#there’s also a post for this on rung if you’d prefer

[best-first]

If you’d like to talk with Optimus in regards to the event and you’re not sure where to start, please like this post and I’ll come up with a starter :>

[eunsuri]

Sanctuary

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Summary: While spending time in your sanctuary, Namor's latest artwork captures your attention.

Word Count: 1287

A/N: I just can't get this beautiful, stunning, gorgeous man out of my mind so I had to write this. This was meant to be a lot longer, but I hated the flashback so I cut it down to something cute and sweet for now hehe hope y'all enjoyyy! Let ya girl know what you think 🤍

For those who prefer to read on AO3, I’ve also posted it there! 🤍

Sanctuary; protection or a safe place. That’s what Namor’s cavern had become to you over the years. Your sanctuary.

Talokan was beautiful, it was almost unbelievable to see an entire nation built underwater, a sun made of vibranium glowing above Namor’s gilded throne, bringing light to the depths of the ocean. You would gladly spend hours on end just exploring the kingdom, and speaking to locals who initially gawked at you, a surface dweller, swimming through their cities. But this cavern was your safe haven.

A relaxed sigh slipped through your lips, tilting your head back to take in the magnificent art in front of you.  You would often find Namor there, painting stories intricately across the walls, splashes of vibrant colors melted together to create a visual history of his world. It was his sanctuary too.

You gently tugged his cloak closer over your shoulders as you stood, stepping closer to the wall and tracing your fingers over the figure which depicted himself, along with the Black Panther, telling the story of the alliance formed with Wakanda. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips, your eyes trailing to the left where you discovered a more recent painting, a familiar figure decorating the wall.

It was your story. 

Your escape from the research facility, the crash landing into the large cave, your near death at Namor’s hand. You were a surface dweller with strange power he had not seen in all the centuries he’d lived, trapped in a research facility, as scientists attempted to take your power and reproduce it to create more enhanced individuals. 

In your escape, you’d found yourself sent crashing into the waters of Yucatán, where you’d awakened in a large cave with a destroyed ship and surrounded by Talokanil warriors. Namor would have killed you that day for endangering his people, knowing your escape could lead more surface dwellers to Talokan. 

“Do you know what they would do to my people?” He’d spoken dangerously into your ear, gripping your jaw in his hand. “You are too dangerous to be kept alive here.”

And yet, when they came for you, the two of you fought side by side along with the Talokanil army. The agents were slain before they could even reach the water, wiping any trace of your location from the organization. 

When he saw how you cared for his people, aiding any of the wounded that you could and shielding his underwater lands, Namor offered you protection. So long as you remained in Talokan, keeping their nation hidden and protected, you would be safe from the clutches of the surface world.

This was your home now, your safe haven; where you were free to live as you were, in the depths of the ocean, hidden in underwater caverns. 

Your heart swelled at the memories, the lingering scent of Namor wrapped around your shoulders, his cloak warming your skin. The paint was still fresh on the mural, his tools strewn about on the rocky table behind you, waiting to be cleansed for his next piece. 

Namor was a magnificent storyteller, through both his words and his art. His words rung through your ears, memories from when he’d told you the story of how Talokan came to be, about his mother. It was heart-wrenching to hear how his people had fallen victim to the death and diseases brought by Spanish invaders, how they had to leave their lives on the surface and begin anew underwater.

"He called me, 'El Niño sin Amor', 'the child without love'. And I took my name from there. Namor. Because I have no love for the surface world."

It was strange to hear, for a man who was filled with so much love for his people, his nation, the world they’d created for themselves where they could survive without the threat of the death and diseases brought by the surface. He had no love for the surface world or its people, and he would do anything to protect his home from being ravaged again. Yet, he’d found love in a surface dweller.

Rippling water behind you broke you from your thoughts, the sound of jewelry lightly clicking and wings fluttering, causing your heart to skip a beat at his presence. His footsteps were light as he made his way to your side, his figure towering to your right, the golden bands on his wrists glimmering in the corner of your eye. You couldn’t restrain the smile that tugged at your lips, turning silently to face him. 

“My love,” you greeted, before reaching for his hair, pushing it back to reveal more of his face. Namor’s hair was thick between your fingers, it soaked your skin with water as it folded into place.

He was beautiful. From his pointed ears, to the curve of his nose, and his wet lips, which curved into a smile of his own, while his eyes trailed down your cloaked body.

“It suits you,” he complimented, running his hands over your shoulders where the cloak hung and down your arms. “I could have one made for you, as my queen.”

You shook your head, lowering your gaze with a light laugh as a warmth spread across your cheeks. It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested something like this, but it could never be that simple.

“Please, amor. A surface dweller as queen? There would be an outrage.” You chuckled at the idea, lifting your head while he tugged you closer to the warmth of his body. 

“Well, yes.” He nodded, shrugging his adorned shoulders, the stunning jewelry around his neck clicking as it shifted. “But your home is here now. You are no longer a surface dweller, an outsider.”

“And yet, some still look at me as one.” You pressed back softly and shook your head once more. 

You both knew such a prospect could divide the Talokanil, though they loved and revered Namor as K'uk'ulkan, the fear and hatred for the surface world burned in many of their hearts. To see an outsider from the surface take a throne alongside their leader would cause confusion and go against the beliefs of many. While the people showed kindness and respect to you for the work you had done to protect them, some remained wary of your presence. The risk was too high.

Tearing yourself away from the idea, you nodded towards the mural on the wall with his latest creation. “It’s beautiful.”

The warmth of his hand cupped your cheek, bringing comfort to your mind as he regarded you with those deep eyes. The eyes that once glared at you threateningly, ready to kill you, now gazed at you with an adoration that made your heart swell and your stomach flutter. His touch brought you peace and safety. A breath you didn’t know you were holding in escaping quietly through your lips.

“Thank you, for protecting me.” You spoke softly, placing your hand over his and leaning into the comfort of his warmth with a light kiss to his palm.

Namor brought you forward, lowering his forehead to your own. “I’ve waited centuries for you, In yakunaj.” My love. The cool surface of his jewelry tickled at your skin. “You are mine now, and I will always protect you, as long as I live.” 

“In k’áatech.” I love you. You knew he loved it when you spoke his tongue, rewarded with an affectionate smile. “And I will be by your side, always.”

He closed the distance between your lips and you melted into the kiss, feeling all your love pour into him as he drowned you with his own. “In k’áatech.”

He was everything. He was your love, your home, and your sanctuary.

[bitch-im-your-biggest-nightmare]

It Doesn’t Matter What They say [Corpse Husband]

Hey! This is my first time doing something on Tumblr. If you’d like, go to my Wattpad because thats where this story comes from! Also, sorry if its not accurate. Im still knew to the Corpse_Husband fanbase and the people the people he is seen playing with (-Cr1tiKal and Pewdiepie] and im not familiar with personalities 

Summary: No one knew of Corpse and Y/Ns relationship. Until Corpse thought it was a good time to reveal it and maybe to make the people who simp way too much over him calm down a bit. he thought it was a good idea, so did Y/N. But the fans were not happy..

-------------------------------------------

Corpse really loved Y/N. He loved her so much that he let her see his face- a week after they met. They met online through Twitter and became best friends, and they totally hit it off. Y/N made Corpse happy, and he trusted her with all his life. Y/N was small, cute, and innocent. She had a soft high pitched voice and was short. She was the exact opposite of Corpse, and that's what he loved about her. He loved when she wore his hoodies, they were always way bigger on her and the sleeves went over her hands. He loved how kind she was. Y/N was a sweetheart, and Corpse didn't know how he was able to score this hard.

Y/N really loved Corpse. He loves so damn much it might kill her. She was happy she got her phone fixed after it stopped charging, if she didn't this wouldn't have happened. They became best friends and hit it off, and she loved when she made Corpse smile. She knows his real name- but calls him Corpse because that's what he prefers. She knows his birthday, his favorite foods, his favorite songs, his personality, how to cheer him up, she knows everything. She loved Corpses deep voice and how it soothed her to sleep. She loved how tall he was compared to her. She loved sitting on his lap while he made his videos and did his streams. He loved wearing his warm hoodies and snuggling up to his chest after long days. Corpse was the best, and Y/N didn't how she was able to score this hard.

Corpse and Y/N thought it would be a good idea to reveal their relationship to the world.

So they did.

In his last stream, he was playing Among Us and decided to tell everyone about Y/N. His exact words were "Guys by the way, I think it's pretty important to tell you guys that I now have a girlfriend. Her names Y/N, and shes the sweetest little thing."

"I'm not little!" Y/Ns voice rung out from behind him. She was sitting on his bed watching him play. Everyone he was playing with freaked out at how soft and high pitched her voice was.

"Her voice is the exact opposite of Corpses, how is this possible?" Felix said with a laugh.

"How can a demon score with an angel?" Charlie commented.

"She sounds so cuuuute!" Poki said, already falling in love with Y/N even she never heard her voice.

"Awwe now I feel lonely." Sykkuno said, sending a sad face in the chat which made them all laugh.

"Nice to meet you all!" Y/N said, walking over to sit on Corpses lap. She was wearing a familiar black hoodie that was way too big on her. Hmm.. wonder whose it is.

"Wha- are you wearing my hoodie again? I was looking for it all over." Corpse had a smirk plastered on his face and looked Y/N over. She was wasn't wearing any pants- but she knew that smirk meant he was just teasing her, they don't make love very often. They just have late night cuddle sessions and kisses.

"I hid it from you so I can wear it." Y/N said a little sheepishly. She was a little awkward talking to Corpse like this infront of everybody. But by how his friends greeted her, she knew they liked her. She was sure the fans would like her as well.

"Wow. You know I was very cold without that hoodie. I had to wear this plain white t-shirt that made me even more cold." Corpse shook his head in a teasing way. Though Y/N was very soft and innocent, so she thought he was being serious for a second.

She frowned, "I'm sorry! I'll give it to you now-" She started to take it off but was stopped by Corpse.

"Ay ay ay ay- no no no, it's fine I was just joking Y/N." He chuckled, hugging her tightly.

"How is she so pure?" Toast muttered, sitting there in disbelief.

"Shes so innocent." Aoc chuckled, already liking this Y/N girl. She really wanted to play a game of Among Us with her, she seemed like such a nice girl to play with.

"Corpse you better treat her like a queen or I swear to god I will-" Charlie was cut off by Sean.

"SHe sound so perfect for Corpse, I'm for ya dude." Sean said, knowing what to come with that sentence.

"Oh how dare you cut me off. I was about to speaks of wisdom!" Charlie said.

"You were about to say profanity. We need to protect this bean we know as Y/N" Poki said.

Charlie sighed, "Fine. But you better expect a fucking DM Corpse!"

Y/N decided to play along with this, She looked curiously at Corpse and said "Babe? Whats fucking?"

There was audible gasps, and Corpse looked at her in complete and utter disbelief. His little innocent bean just said the no no word, it was forbidden in her vocab.

"CHARLIE!"

"OH MY GOD!"

"NOOOooOOOOOOO!"

"DON'T TAKE HER INNOCENCE!!"

"pretty sure Corpse already took it if you know what I mean."

"Ew what the f--feck?"

--------

It was a fun night for Y/N and Corpse. Y/N enjoyed her time talking to the others and studying Corpses strategies as an imposter. She was excited for when she was gonna be able to play with them, she really looked forward to it. After the stream, Corpse went to record a video reading some more fan written horror stories. Y/N went and laid on the couch, waiting patiently for her boyfriend to finish up his recording- which was going to be a while. She scrolled through her phone, watching a few of Corpses videos and looking at photos of them on her camera roll.

But she made a mistake by going on Twitter.

"Corpses gf is so fake lmao"

"Y/N does not deserve Corpse! Shes sounds like such a bitch"

"I hope @T/N and @Corpse_Husband break up. I hate their relationship already 😭"

"Y/N sounds like a hoe and isn't worthy of Corpses time."

"I bet Corpse is so tired of @T/N lmao. its obvious in his voice loooooooool"

"I hope Y/N dies so i can get a piece of deep daddy 🤩🥰"

"I already hate Y/N and I haven't even seen her in any other vids XD"

"Yoo they sound like they hate her lol. I bet they're just putting on an act to make her feel better about herself."

The DMs, messages, and comments on her posts were even worse..

"You don't deserve Corpse. Fuck off hoe."

"You aren't worry of Corpses time."

"You're such a user."

"Bitch"

"User"

"I bet Corpse really hates you."

"I hope you fucking because Corpse doesn't need an ugly hoe like you in his life"

And they just got worse and worse. Y/N was shocked, why are they hating on her so fast? Does Corpse really not like her..? Is she really not worthy of his time..? NO! She pushed them away, Corpse loves you, and that's truth.

But even so, Y/N couldn't stop reading the messages. They were all so mean.. Only a few people stood up for her. She felt her heart break, everyone hates her... Just despises her! She felt tears run down her face. She cuddled into the hoodie, pulling the oversized hoodie her H/C hair. She felt hurt and hated, like no one wanted her, not even Corpse- the person who loved her the most.

--------

After an hour, Corpse decided to take a little break from recording and check on Y/N. He missed her soft voice and her cuddles, so he was on a mission to get just that thing. He stood up from his gaming chair and gave a nice long stretch and ran a hand through his black hair. He walked to his door, slowly opening it and quietly walking through the hallway. He planned to scare Y/N, and sense it usually takes him hours to finish his recording she wouldn't suspect a thing.

But when he got closer to the living room, he felt worry and concern overwhelm him. He heard the soft sobs and cries of his beloved girlfriend. He rushed into the living room, sitting on the couch and picking her up to hold her in his arms. "Hey babe- are you ok? Whats wrong?"

Y/N didn't say anything, she just snuggled into Corpses chest and hugged him tightly as she sobbed.

"Babe, you can tell me anything, you know that? What's wrong? Did someone say something that hurt you on stream? Wait- is it what Sykkuno said? Baby I'm not gay he's just a friend and you know that, it's just a joke that we're-"

"I-i-its not that.." Y/N muttered out.

"Then whats wrong?" Corpse asked, his voice full of nothing but worry and concern.

Y/N grabbed her phone and turned it on. She went on Twitter on looked up the hashtag 'HateY/N' and told Corpse to scroll through.

She watched as he scrolled through the tweets, and his expression twisted into one Y/N has never really seen before, anger. Oh he was livid. How could they say those things at his beautiful, sweet, and happy girlfriend? He thought his fans would support him and Y/Ns relationship. Why didn't they care?

He read some of the battles, some people loved Y/N.

"Bro stfu. Y/N is perfect for Corpse."

"lmao what? Shes ugly asf"

"Seriously? If you really cared about Corpse you would support him. Now fuck off."

Corpse pulled his own phone out and hopped on Twitter,  instantly typing a response to everyone who has been hating on Y/N.

He said "To everybody who has been hating on @T/N, my girlfriend. I love her with all my life and I do not like how some of you guys have been treating her. She has changed my goddamn life, and all this bullshit you guys have been spitting has made Y/N cry. So please.. just please stop."

After that, Corpse threw his phone onto the carpet and hugged Y/N tightly, kissing her temple softly. "It doesn't matter what they say, I will always love you Y/N."

[primergon]

Hey there!! It’s the anon that you matched up with Velocity in one of your latest posts! I’m a little late in sending this in due to some issues with tumblr (the app decided that your blog didn’t exist at all for some reason) but I just wanted to send in a big, heartfelt thank you for entertaining the matchup request I sent in!! I was seriously blown away by the details and effort you put in and your timing was impeccable as it really cheered me up after a rough day at work :,) You put so much thought into everything and I can’t help but wish to see how you’d tackle a matchup with a male bot for me too, if you would at all be willing to indulge me?

I was really surprised that I got paired up with Velocity and all the scenarios were so cute and wholesome that I couldn’t help rereading them again and again- I loved the way you characterised her and I’ll definitely treasure your post forever. Not to mention, it was my first time requesting a matchup anywhere so I was kind of shocked when I got the notification for it 💀 Thank you so much for putting in the time despite being busy and for this blog in general. Your writing really does lift my spirits!

My rambling aside, I was wondering about your opinion on fan gifts and if you’d like a piece of transformers related art? It could be an OC, a favourite bot or even just your persona if you’ve got one, anything at all. I’ve seen some blogs that are uncomfortable with surprise gifts and such, so I thought I’d check with you first to make sure. I just wanted to thank you in some way for responding so earnestly, so please do let me know what you think! If you aren’t up to receiving them, though, it’s absolutely okay! I simply wish to convey how grateful I am, so think of this ask as fan mail that you aren’t obligated to reply to/engage with.

- A very thrilled anon (ง’̀-‘́)ง ✨

A/N : Hello Anon !! Thank you for taking the time out of your day to write this for me, it does mean a lot! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ I'm so glad you enjoyed my work and I do try my best to put in as much detail as I can to make every matchup feel special. I'm sorry you had to go through a terrible day at work, but it warms my heart to know I can help make your day a bit better (｡𓎆 𓎺 𓎆)

Of course! I'd love to indulge you therefore I'll match you up with IDW Rung!

01| Rung is inherently a creative nurturer with this drive to help others. That is why he's the best mech to go to whenever you have trouble expressing your feelings. Rung is patient and encouraging, giving you this safe space that allows you to vent and understand your emotions. He's more than happy to take the first step forward for you. Whenever you isolate yourself, Rung would come looking for you, offering you his help. His concern for you extends professional barriers as he regards you as someone special to him. This sense of comfort and trust was one of the many reasons why your friendship eventually turned romantic.

02| He admires your love for philosophy. Rung is also one for literature and art, so conversation was easy between the two of you. You'll often visit him in his office to spend time together and it warms his heart to know that you approach him for company ( a lot of people only tend to go to him when they want something, so it was a nice change of pace.) You'll be reading to him your latest poem while he assembles his miniature boats. You like how versatile Rung was: beautifully handling topics that most people can't usually stomach. Thanks to you, he has started to open up as well. While sharing stories of his past with you, Rung's eyes were bright and loving.

03 | Although you are subtle with your show of love, it doesn't make Rung cherish you any less. The reason you make such a good pair is that Rung is good at reading people. He knows you're sincere every time. Both of you are more on the bashful side of showing your affection so there's a lot of blushing and stuttering. But once the initial awkwardness wears off, physical touch comes naturally. When in Swerves, the two of you will be holding hands under the table. Rung giving you silent support whenever you start to feel too overwhelmed with the crowd. He also likes stroking your cheeks and holding you close, always delighted whenever you give him handmade gifts. He tries his best to return the gesture: Rung occasionally surprising you with a bundle of novels and books he got from shore leave.

04| Speaking of shore leave, Rung would always take you to the local market to explore the foreign planet's culture. He was more than happy to go on a culinary journey with you even if he can't eat anything, as long as you were enjoying yourself that was more than enough for him. He makes sure to always keep an eye on you because he knows you like to wander around. To avoid being separated, Rung would insist on linking your arms together. Or when he does not have his mass displaced, Rung would carry you away from the commotion. Smiling at you in his arms ( he likes how you make him feel strong, although he's too shy to say it aloud.)

05| Arguments between you and Rung were almost nonexistent. As natural peacemakers, both of you loathe conflict. Yet, when problems arise, Rung isn't the type to shy away from them. Your perfectionism paired with Rung's sensitivity towards criticism may lead to a few disagreements. But it's nothing you both can't handle, especially when no one is better than Rung in finding a win-win solution.

06| Spending time with you is something Rung looks forward to. He loves watching you do art and is supportive of your passions, knowing you'll do great things in the future. Although Rung prefers your taste in historical fiction and comedy, he would sit through horror movies for you every once in a while. Rung has a difficult time accepting the love he deserves. For eons, he's spent his life alone. Now, Rung is more than happy to share it with you.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this anon! Also thank you for the offer on a fan gift (≧∇≦). I am open to fan gifts but you are not obliged to give me anything in return as I am more than happy to give this matchup !! (ˊ•͈ ◡ •͈ˋ) However, if you'd like, I will be more than happy and honoured to receive your present !! I'm very touched, thank you! We can talk about it further in the Tumblr chat or you can drop by my Instagram ( @/primergonn) for a dm. Or you can choose whichever is best for you and I'll follow. Thank you so much for the sweet offer Anon! I'm really thrilled <3 ＊*♡( ⁎ᵕᴗᵕ⁎ ）

[mxstyassasxin]

Little pieces of me in my writing

Thank you for tagging me in your ephemera post @cluelesspigeons and to @the-starryknight for starting this off. I thought finding examples of myself in my writing would be pretty easy, but I actually don't seem to do it as often as I think! I have managed to pick out five fics that have little bits of myself in them, however, so here goes!

1. Family Is What You Make It

This is the big one as the whole idea of Hermione as a werewolf discovering her pack came from my own pain and loneliness. I suffer with an auto-immune disease that results in chronic pain, so pretty much every description of pain that Hermione has, I have had myself at some point or other. Things like;

The pain in her shoulder had washed over her so intensely when she moved to tie her hair out of the way that she'd run to the bathroom, anticipating her breakfast to make a return trip into the toilet bowl.

I also snuck some more light-hearted bits of information in there as well such as Hermione's food choices, including this wonderful interaction with Bill at The Burrow;

He disappeared into the pantry again after a brief inspection of her breakfast and checked that the coast was clear before reappearing with a bowl of fruit and some croissants. Sitting down on her right, Bill pulled the plates of savoury food towards himself and set the fruit and croissants down in their place. Hermione met his eyes and smiled, mouthing her thanks to him. How he knew that it was sweeter food rather than savoury that settled her stomach, she had no idea. But she was grateful he did.

2. Six

"What song?" Draco was curious. "You know... Divorced, beheaded and died. Divorced, beheaded, survived. They taught us it at school. Primary school in history class."

This is something I learnt myself that still lives in my head rent free, although whether it was from school or Horrible Histories, I can't recall.

3. Baptize Me

In this fic, I basically took what I experienced growing up Anglican and considered it from the point of view of a young, terrified, pureblood who has defected from the Death Eaters. This is pretty much the description of the bibles we had in my local church;

Picking it up, the red, leather-bound book was no bigger than his hand. The pages, edged in red, were so thin that they appeared almost translucent and the writing upon them was tiny, an effort to fit so many words into such a small book. Regulus finished flipping quickly through the pages and ran his thumb thoughtfully over the symbol debossed into the cover.

4. Never Too Late

“Well the soundtrack was composed by Hans Zimmer. Brilliant film composer. We’ll have to watch his others.”

I really really adore Hans Zimmer soundtracks!

5. Ministry Business or Minister's Pleasure

There are two specific bits of ephemera in this one. Firstly, I wrote it while listening to Debussy and I love cinnamon tea so just had to include this little routine for Hermione;

Hermione had hoped, when she flooed directly to her office, that she would be able to sit down at her desk with a nice cup of cinnamon tea, fill her office with Debussy, and continue with her Ministerial approvals, providing a slice of normality ahead of informing every one about their divorce at the Burrow later.

Secondly, this snippet of conversation has never rung truer for me;

“Astoria was curious and dragged me along once,” he had admitted to her and, although he couldn’t remember the name of the film, he quite easily relayed to her his thoughts on the horrifying, incestuous pit of grime and bacteria that was the cinema. Hermione had sniggered at that and he’d shot her an incredulous look which just sent her into peals of laughter. “I always preferred watching movies in the comfort of my own home,” she had confessed, reaching across the table and entwining their fingers, beginning a discussion of her favourite films.

So that's me in my writing so far. I don't know who's already done this so I'm just going to tag @drarrymehome @ladderofyears @rockmarina and @aneiria-writes . If you've already done it or if you'd rather not, don't worry, and anyone else who sees this also feel free to share as well if you'd like to!

[mar1garden]

going batty part 1

masterlist

warning: this will be salty. very salty. if you think it’s ooc let me know and i’ll do the best i can to fix it, but the characterization in this show is so shoddy already that there isn’t much i can do. alya salt, adrien salt, lila salt, bustier salt, class salt. this is also my first posted fic!! if u wanna be on the tag list let me know 💙🌹

The first impression Damien had of his new class was that they were loud. Even as he walked up the stairs, he could hear voices in the classroom. It seemed a debate was occurring, though he couldn’t quite make out the two sides. He reached the top of the stairs, but before he could even make a grab for the door handle, the room fell silent. Damien was about to thank whatever deity was watching out for him and silencing the roomful of screaming children he was about to walk into when he heard another voice from inside the room.

“Of course she’s in love with him,” an effeminate voice said matter-of-factly. “But he barely knows she exists. It’s tragic, really. She tells me about it every time she sleeps over- oops!” the voice continued. Damien didn’t know who was speaking, and he didn’t know who they were speaking about, but he knew from their cadence and their confidence in “accidentally” spilling secrets that he couldn’t trust them as far as he could throw them. Damien sighed deeply to think that he was joining a class of liars and idiots as he reluctantly opened the door to the classroom. Once more the class quieted- chaos had broken out once more after the liar mentioned her little tidbit, which he expected had been the goal.

“Ah! Our new student! M. Damocles told me to keep an eye out for you. Would you like to say a few words to the class?” a woman- presumably the teacher, though she did nothing to show it- asked. She smiled expectantly at him as he moved to stand in front of her desk, facing the class.

“I’m Damien. I’m 15 and I’m an exchange student from America. I do not wish to distract myself from my studies during my time here, so please do not try to make friends with me. I’m not interested,” Damien told the class sharply. He walked briskly to the only open seat in the room- back row, next to some girl who smiled gently at him before returning her gaze to the front of the class. Interesting, he mused. By her bright clothes, he had expected bubbliness. Perhaps a high-pitched greeting. A hug, maybe. This was a pleasant surprise, though it was the only one of its kind he had had all week.

On Monday, they had received video evidence of a super villain in Paris. Tim had suspected it was CGI, especially since Paris was visually completely fine when he hacked some security feeds, even though the video clearly showed the Eiffel Tower falling. Bruce had decided that they really ought to at least check before writing it off, and Damien had drawn the short straw.

On Tuesday, Bruce had told him his cover for being in Paris was that he was an exchange student. He wasn’t allowed to be Robin while he was there, as it may put his identity at risk. He wasn’t allowed to leave until he had confirmation that the thing was either a hoax or genuine, unless he was in actual danger.

On Wednesday he packed. He couldn’t take weapons with him, obviously, because airport security may be a joke but he was pretty sure they would catch an actual sword stuffed in his bag. That afternoon he had flown to Paris and gotten settled in.

And now it was Thursday. Damien had learned much about the class very quickly, mainly that it was composed of a liar and some idiots. He had learned his deskmate was quiet. He had learned that he was far enough ahead in the syllabus that he could afford to study people in class.

He hoped the rest of the week was calm. Even if it meant he had to stay longer, he would rather have time to get settled before suffering a villain attack- if the whole thing was real, anyways. He pulled his focus back to the task at hand- assessing the class and finding any useful allies or sources of information. He recognized the girl next to the liar as the Ladyblogger. This meant the Ladyblog was likely an unreliable resource, which he mentally jotted down. That was good to know.

Damien cast a sideways glance at the girl next to him. She was patiently listening to the teacher and obviously tuning out the other students. When Damien bothered to listen, he noticed them gossiping about her. So Marinette was her name, huh?

Every rumor he heard was traced instantly back to the liar, and with each word he noticed the girl next to him tense imperceptibly more. He mentally scoffed. It was clear that she wasn’t going to stand up for herself. How pathetic. She was preferable to the liar or any of the blind idiots, but certainly not by much. So lost in thought was he that he flinched when the bell rang. Where had his restraint gone?

Marinette turned to him once the bell had rung. In a voice clearly pitched down so others wouldn’t hear, she spoke for the first time that day: “You’re Damien, right? I’m Marinette, the class president.” He scoffed slightly. The whole class clearly hated her, and she refused to stand up for herself. How had this mess become class president? As if she hadn’t heard him, she continued: “If you need anything, let me know. Here’s your class schedule and syllabi, and here’s a map of school. If you’d like, I can give you a tour later and explain the multiple purposes of some of the classrooms.” She handed him a short pile of papers and waited, as if she expected a response. When she got none, she nodded and left, and somehow, that made Damien feel worse than he would have if she had scolded him on his lack of a ‘thank you.’

The rest of the day, he remained in the same classes as her. He sat next to her in a majority of them, as she was often the only person with no seat partner. She remained quiet and focused, and she continued to pointedly ignore the other students, though it seemed he was not among their ranks. When he asked any questions, she answered quickly, quietly, and to the best of her ability, which he appreciated. She may be useful yet, if her succinct answers to non-hero questions were any indication of her general temperament. As he thought this, the bell rang for lunch and the class began to pack up. Damien wasn’t sure if he should risk the caf or head off campus, but as he turned to ask Marinette, he noticed that she had frozen in place. Her bag was half packed and resting on the table as she looked in surprise at someone standing at the table.

The boy was blonde and green eyed. He had had the liar hanging off of him, which either meant they were working together or he was a bigger idiot than them all. He smiled condescendingly at Marinette and Damien, then he turned solely to Marinette. “Marinette, may I speak with you real quick? It’ll only take a minute,” the boy asked, though it was clear ‘no’ was not an option. At the girl’s small nod, he turned to Damien. “Do you mind if I steal her for a sec?” he asked. Damien raised an eyebrow.

“Seeing as she’s a human being and therefore not property, I don’t see how you could steal her, but be my guest.” The boy smiled that same smarmy smile at him, and Damien decided that too many unlikeable people disliked the sweet girl next to him. He didn’t want to be among their ranks, and while the girl could do with a bit more spine, she had been nothing but pleasant to him. As the boy maneuvered her away to speak, Damien moved a bit more quietly. It would be easy for his trained ears to overhear, and they should both underestimate him, so it would be simple to eavesdrop.

“Mari, you didn’t say anything to him, did you?” the blond asked, looking searchingly at the girl in question. She sighed in response.

“Is that what this is about? I promise, I didn’t tell him anything. I think he knows she’s lying, and if he asks, I won’t lie to him to protect her, but I haven’t told him anything and he hasn’t asked.” Marinette rolled her eyes at the boy. Damien couldn’t help but notice that her posture, while visibly scared when other students were around, was simply bored when only Blondie was there. The boy had sighed in relief at Marinette’s words, but had quickly tensed back up.

“Wait, if he asks if she’s lying, you’ll just... tell him? Just like that? Mari, you can’t do that! He doesn’t know us, he doesn’t need to know our secrets!” the blond protested. He assumed a superior expression and quickly looked at Marinette in as disappointed a way as he could manage. The aforementioned girl glared at him.

“Agreste, I’m not going to lie. I refuse to do so, especially to try and protect a girl who hates me. Damien is perfectly kind and has been nothing but cordial, I have no reason to deny him information that may affect his time here. I won’t make him listen to some liar thinking it’s the truth.” Marinette ended the conversation there, walking back to the desk quickly and packing her bag before leaving class. Damien took this in with an air of quiet amusedness, though he was touched that she defended him.

Maybe his time here wouldn’t be so impossible after all.

that’s where i’m ending the first part! if you’d like to be tagged in the next part let me know! have a wonderful weekend folks! ~💙🌹

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hi, I really like your berth sharing headcanons. They're so cute! But in the post about Thunderclash there was something about the medics starting to wonder if recharging next to a human had benefits. I was thinking it would be cool if you maybe considered making headcanons about the medics, maybe trying to test it. Feel free to take as much time as you need. I really like your headcanons, and I hope I don't come off as pushy or anything!

You don't have to apologize for absolute GOLD, anon! You're not pushy at all either!

For the sake of simplicity, I'll leave who the human is dating vague, so you can imagine whatever bot you'd like spurring this scientific wonder. Each medic discovers something a little different, but they're all based on ideas I have regarding how bots and humans are ultimately a great team when they're cooperating.

Ratchet

·This mech considers himself to be a solid and unwavering voice of reason, so while he's seen them performing their duties more effectively than ever, he's still positively baffled when the bot you've been cuddling turns up for their next exam and appears to have improved on every physical level. Their reaction time, fuel efficiency, speed, stamina... it's all better than ever before!

·It's a great development, obviously, but he's bothered he can't make sense of it. Sure, he's well aware that a good relationship can be a benefit to mental health, which obviously has an impact on physical well-being, but this is well beyond what simple positive thoughts should be able to accomplish.

·For the sake of his sanity, and because he's genuinely interested in the potential medical benefits of your species, he proposes conducting a study to you and your significant other. He knows it sounds silly, but his reasoning is solid enough to convince everyone involved to try.

·Always putting the well being of his patient's above all else, he keeps the tests simple and (mostly) unobtrusive, and a great deal of the data is gathered by simple scans overnight or through questionnaire. He's especially interested in whether or not this phenomenon is found in all humans or just you.

·It's hard to be put off when you see how serious he is about the whole thing, particularly as he starts to put together all the ways humans and Cybertronians are alike, and the results absolutely fascinate him and get him genuinely excited.

·Drift has suggested on a few late night research sessions that he may just be underestimating the power of positive thoughts, but he doesn't push that answer, not so much to avoid a wrench but because he too is quite curious about the potential interspecies benefits. Like Ratchet he reasons that, if the two races can find such benefits with each other, it would go a long way to encouraging harmony through the universe.

·After many nights of brainwave mapping and days of simple physical exams, Ratchet announces that he has developed a theory! He's beaming, partly because he's been proven sort of right, but mostly because there does appear to be some solid evidence of a medical benefit!

·From his studies, he reasons that humans are capable of triggering a number of hardwired responses in Cybertronian biology, and those he's managed to confirm are all related to social interaction, protective instincts, and even stress reduction.

·In essence, he concludes that humans just naturally appear "cute" to bot's once they've formed a bond with them, and the instinctive drive to protect smaller lifeforms as well as socialize is satisfied to fulfillment and beyond by regular physical contact, which leads to a boost in all systems and a general sense of elation.

·You're incredibly surprised to hear bots would have an internal drive to label you as "cute", but that pales in comparison to your shock when Ratchet suggests more humans be brought on board for study. He then gives you complete medical clearance to share a berth with your partner every night, along with the promise to provide whatever resources or assistance will make it easier for the two of you, especially if you'll offer to help any of the other crewmembers on their quest for human partners.

First Aid

·Always one to look for new solutions, he immediately notices when the bot you're with has a huge boost to their wellbeing, well beyond what he'd expect even from your particularly positive relationship. Without hesitation, he calls you both in to discuss potential implications.

·His enthusiasm is convincing in its own way, particularly as he begins to theorize that Cybertronians being so ostracized from other species means that a great deal of potential benefits from interaction could be waiting to be discovered! Thus, the rarity of your relationship makes this quite a unique opportunity.

·His ideal study would involve a number of humans, but if you're comfortable with it he'd love to see if you have the same effect on other bots as well, as that could provide some absolutely fascinating data!

·Scans of your entire physiology are requested, along with samples of whatever you feel like providing, though he quickly realizes he'll need to study humans in general to make sense of his results. The process of learning everything related to the biology of a new species keeps him enraptured for days at a time.

·He's especially interested in whether or not you've experienced similiar benefits to your bot partner. This means he has quite a few questions regarding your wellbeing and would like detailed answers. After all, if the process benefits one species but hurts the other, that's important to know too!

·At times you're absolutely baffled by what results he seems intent on analyzing. The exact number of hours you slept, down to the second? What kind of pajamas you wear? The total number of breaths you take each night?

·His insistence on the importance of details at least convinces you to let him continue. Though he keeps it to himself, he clearly has something to be excited about, but will deny absolutely anything when pressed.

·Finally he calls you and your bot partner in to share his findings, at least before he plans to propose an official theory. His board of data is covered in notes and miscellaneous papers, most of which you can't even begin to understand, but his tone is calm and his delivery smooth when be finally speaks.

·He's elated to explain the countless benefits he believes both species derive from sleeping in close proximity, some of which he's only just begun to scratch the surface of, and many which he believes can be confirmed by studying more individuals. Humans receive exceptional stress reduction and an increase in bonding hormone production, and bots see something similar but also appear to experience a boost to their self repair! By the time a half hour has passed he's listed so many these are all you can remember.

·You're impressed and fascinated, especially because you and your partner were mostly just... cuddling? It's hard not to be amused when he starts proposing a serious interspecies initiative, and lays out his plans to do so, complete with contacting the leadership of each species to request volunteers.

Velocity

·Ever the more observant and subtle of the medics, she initially keeps her awareness of the boost your partner has been experiencing to herself, quietly taking note of the phenomenon and accumulating a small file of her observations and thoughts. Once she determines there is indeed something going on, she decides to get some concrete answers.

·She approaches each of you individually for an actual examination, which is relatively routine so you think nothing of it. Checking for any potential explanations in your anatomy, she doesn't find anything out of the ordinary, which is good news because it means nothing is amiss and she can begin to do some real science!

·Sitting you down in the privacy of the medical bay, but only after assuring you nothing is wrong, she lays out some simple notes and explains what she's been observing. Describing the unique benefits your partner has been experiencing, she lays out her desire to learn more, because bots need all the help they can get staying healthy.

·Not one to be obtrusive, a lot of her research is focused on the mental health aspects and their benefits to the physical, which she accomplishes mostly by asking questions to measure your feelings.

·With your permission she gets a bit of assistance from Rung on these matters, as his understanding of the Cybertronian processor and how it relates to mood, as well as his experience with emotional wellbeing, make him an excellent guide on the information she gathers.

·She's less focused on testing a specific theory than she is on simply putting together information and analyzing it, mostly because her "sample size" is much too small to rule anything out to her satisfaction, but she is absolutely determined to prove something is happening.

·Being more cautious means she's going to take her time to properly analyze everything she gathers, which takes a little while both due to her tendency to prefer hands on study and her fascination with what she starts to put together. It's actually hard for her to keep everything confidential once she gets an idea of the positive implications of what she's seeing.

·Almost out of the blue she sits you down and starts to delightedly relay her observations, going so fast at times it's hard to keep up. Thankfully she catches herself and backs up to clearly state her thoughts as well as answer any questions you may have.

·For Cybertronian benefits, she actually believes this sleeping in close proximity to a human is having a kind of healing enhancement to your partner, specifically to their brain. All bots have endured trauma, but for your partner the effects of their unique mental struggles have been lessened, as if they're recovering at a supernatural rate.

·While she admits to being less experienced with humans, she confidently states that your own body appears to be experiencing a similiar phenomenon, and while its obviously not "cured" your brain is showing an incredible capacity for handling new stressors and processing old ones effectively. To say she encourages the two of you to continue is an understatement.

[make-me-imagine]

Ainslie, 26, straight, female, dyed red hair (from blonde), 5’ 2”, blue eyes. I liked to read and write (Though I’m not very good), I HATE spiders. Preference: Male Fandoms: Leverage and Vampire Diaries Prompt: Sick Day Both?

Special 5k Ship Event (Read post if your going to request)

-

I hope you like it! Sorry if they are a bit short.

Leverage: 

I ship you with Eliot. It wouldn’t seem like you'd be the type of attract Eliot (at least to the others) since most of the girls he’s dated are more bold and outgoing than you usually are, and most are usually spitfires around others. But when he met you he not only thought you were adorable, but you had a comforting presence around you. It made him want to protect you and care for you. Also, he would get rid of any spiders that came your way, often without alerting you to their presence because he knows how much you hate them. 

Prompt: Sick Day

The second Eliot found out you were sick with a cold, he was immediately at your house and making you soup in the kitchen. He had already brought you some nice herbal tea to help with your throat and stomach. 

As you lied comfortably in your bed, the sound of clinking and light music, as well as the smell of soup wafting into the room was comforting to you. Eliot had a way of making your home feel even more home-like. 

Eventuall you felt like you had enough energy to make your way into the kitchen. As you slowly waddled out, blanket still wrapped around you, the smell of fresh chicken soup filled your nose. Luckily it didn’t make you nauseous, 

Eliot turned at the first noise you made. He looked at your tired eyes and red nose, a small smile making it’ way onto his face. “How are you feeling?” In response all he received was a groan, making him chuckle. “Well the soup is almost done it should be strong enough to help kick that colds ass”

You sat at the counter, watching him as he minced some parsley before tossing it into the pot. “Why don’t you ever get sick?” you asked before sniffling.

“I do”

You glared at him “Tell me one time”

He hesitated for a moment “Three years ago, I got pneumonia”

“Do I wanna know what you were doing to have gotten that sick?”

“Probably not” he smiled at you as he walked around the counter, stopping in front of you. He placed the back of his hand on your head, and then cheeks “No fever, so it’s definitely a cold”

Suddenly he scooped you up into his arms before carrying you easily over to the couch. After setting you down he placed a kiss on the top of your head through the blanket you were wrapped in “I’ll bring you some soup”

“Thank you” you muttered out as you leaned into the couch watching him walk away from you, a smile on your face as you wondered how lucky you got to have such a caring boyfriend.

-

Vampire Diaries:

I ship you with Stefan. He is also pretty quiet and enjoys the company of a few rather than many. The two of you get on really well, and it didn’t take long before he developed feelings for you. You gave him a sense of peace, especially when things got hectic. One of his favorite things to do is hang out with you in the evening, chilling on the couch with music playing in the background. 

Prompt: Sick Day

Stefan was starting to get worried, he had texted you a bunch and tried to call, but you weren’t answering. He stopped pacing around the living room before grabbing his keys and heading straight for your place. Everything had been fine in Mystic Falls recently, but something felt off.

Once he got to your house he listening for you, hearing your heartbeat he rung the doorbell and knocked. Hearing no movement, or change to your heartbeat he took action. 

Climbing up to your bedroom window  and getting it open was easy enough. Once he climbed into your room, he saw your still figure on the bed, face covered. Just as he was about to call your name, pulling your figure toward him, he saw your bedside table. Covered in cold medicine and tissues. 

So, gently he remove the blanket from your head, finding you sleeping peacefully, nose red and all. He smiled to himself, realizing that he had no need to worry. He gently stroked your head, causing you to stir from your sleep.

You blinked a few times as your gaze landed on your boyfriend “Hey Stef” you greeted sleepily “How long have you been here?”

“Just a minute. I got worried, you weren’t answering my texts or calls”

“I‘m sorry” you apologized “I don’t feel good today”

He motioned his head at the medicine “Yeah I figured. A cold?” You nodded your head. “Well, staying in bed all day wont help, why don’t we get you downstairs, and I’ll get you some soup and Gatorade huh?”

“I don’t wanna move” you mumbled

“Don’t have to” he responded as he took your blanket off of you before picking you up. He slowly carried you downstairs, knowing that if he used his vamp speed he might make you dizzy and/or sick.

Once he set you on the couch downstairs he handed you a different blanket before wandering to the kitchen.

“You vampires are so lucky you don’t get sick”

You heard him chuckle from the kitchen “True” as he came back in, handing you a Gatorade he smiled at you “Though I wish you didn’t get sick, it gives me the chance to take care of you”

You smiled at him “Nurse Stefan to the rescue huh?”

He winked at you as he wandered back into the kitchen, getting ready to make you some soup. He felt guilty for being glad you were sick, but he did love taking care of you, and you having a sick day gave him that exact chance.

[insanechayne]

Hey so I’m an actual homeless person and I wanna talk about how the coronavirus panic is directly and immediately harming poor/homeless people

First off, I’ve been homeless for two years. I’m currently unemployed because no one wants to hire me no matter where I apply to, and my dad works Lyft nearly everyday to help us pay bills and have a place to live (we live in and out of hotels)

Because of the mass panic, less people were taking trips over the weekend. After four hours of working my dad only made $28 on a Saturday morning. This means we immediately became displaced and are now living in our car with our belongings and our dog

I’m lucky to get food benefits from the state, but when people hoard food it makes it harder for me to find things I can safely store and eat in the car that I can actually afford. The only loaves of bread that were left in the store today were specialty breads (rye, organic, etc.) and cost $4+. There were also very few cans of food left, like canned chili and ravioli. This means I was able to buy even less food than I normally could have for a higher cost, and had to try and make do with things like crackers and snack bars, which will technically fill you but have very little nutritional value. Thankfully I was able to find one liter bottles of water for $1 each and could stock up on some for the day for us and the dog.

But my point is that with water shortages and food hoarding, homeless people who desperately need these things for basic survival have an even harder time getting them. Not everyone has benefits or can afford a $4 loaf of bread. Not everyone can find water. If enough restaurants decide to close their inner dining areas then that will leave even fewer options for the homeless to use a bathroom and/or get free water. And due to the nature of my situation, this is something I have to worry about on a daily basis.

I could care less about getting the coronavirus. If I did get it, I could more than likely get government assisted quarantine and have a place to live for two weeks. But because neither my dad nor I have it, there is no help for people like us right now. Think of how many homeless people are on the streets right now, tonight, who are struggling to find water and cheap food, or who have to go to the bathroom on the sidewalk. This was already a reality in places like San Francisco, but now with this mass panic over coronavirus it makes these issues even worse

In California alone (where my dad and I live) there are 129,000+ homeless people. That’s 129,000+ people in their cars or on the streets that are at immediate and severe risk of dehydration, starvation, diseases of other kinds spreading from not being able to use a normal bathroom or use toilet paper, and even death. This is a real issue my dad and I are facing right now.

I’m making this post for two reasons:

1. To beg for help from my peers, as dad and I are desperate to get back into a hotel room and try to work and keep a place to live (as weekdays have been better for working, even during this panic, and because we are getting some money on Friday that goes to bills and room costs)

2. To inform everyone about a situation they may not be aware of and spread information about a reality many are facing.

This is your reminder: DO NOT HOARD FOOD OR WATER. There is no reason for shelves to be completely empty of water and cheap food staples. No one needs 15 cases of water for a 14-30 day quarantine. No one needs 47 cans of any kind of food staple. When you hoard food and water of any kind you are actively and directly harming poor/homeless people. We may be the lowest rung of society, but we still need to live, and we deserve to be treated like human beings too.

And now, if you’d like to help someone suffering from this whole coronavirus thing and being homeless, it’d be very nice if you decide to donate some money to me. Any money I get will be either used for gas in the car (for us to run the heat and charge our phones off and on), used to buy dog food and cheap pain medication (Advil, Tylenol), or if I get enough in donations will be used to get us back into a hotel and have a place to live and get dad back to work

So please take this to heart, and please help out if you can.

To donate, please use my PayPal: https://www.paypal.me/ChayneGreer

Or if you prefer to use Zelle, message me directly for my info there.

Also share this as much as you can. Not just for me to get donations, but also just to inform others of the kind of issues people like me are facing. These are the problems that really need attention

[allthings-fantasy]

See You Again - Part Eight

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2521

Warning: nothing really, lil bit of angst, lil bit of fluff (if you squint)

Author Notes: I am literally writing so many things write now my brain is going bonkers but I’m so happy to be writing again. Along with writing I posted last night how I am close to 700 followers and want to give back to you guys! I’ll link the post about that right below!

Previous Part   All Parts   700 Followers Giveback

The hustle and bustle of work seemed to buzz by you. No matter what you did you just weren’t able to focus on today. At two, Dean had texted you and asked if you were still good to meet him later. After that your mind was permanently somewhere else and the last hour of your shift dragged.

At exactly 3:00, your phone rang as you were pulling your duffel bag from your locker. Looking at the screen, your eyes rolled. “Yes, Jason?”

He chuckled from the other end. “I’m just giving you another chance to back out of this. You don’t have to feel obligated to go.” There was a twinge of hope in his voice, as if you were actually going to back out.

“Nice try, but I’m going through with this. Who knows, maybe this will be the closure we never got.” You shrugged even though he couldn’t see and moved to clock out. “I promise I will text you when I get there and call when I leave. Now I have to go if I’m going to make it on time.”

You quickly pushed Jason off the phone and shoved it into you pocket, walking out to the hospital’s parking lot. The drive to Mickey’s was just over fifteen minutes. You planned to use the extra time to fix yourself up a little bit, but a quick glance around the parking lot you noticed the Impala was already here. Pulling down the visor, you quickly ran your fingers through the messy parts of your locks and ran a finger under your eyes to collect any stray mascara.

“Well, here goes nothing,” you grumbled. Sending Jason a quick text message, you tossed your phone in your bag and headed for the front entrance. The bell rung above your head and your eyes scanned the small diner until you saw him. Dean was sitting in the back booth, large hands cupped around a mug that probably contained coffee.

He must’ve felt your eyes on him. Dean shifted in his seat and lifted his head, eyes connecting fully with yours. The emerald green twisted a knot somewhere deep in your stomach but you quickly brushed away the feeling. Chewing on your bottom lip, you gripped your purse strap tighter and made a beeline straight to the seat across from him.

You were ten minutes early and Dean’s mug was almost empty. Your brows furrowed. “How long have you been here?”

Dean chuckled and ran the tip of his index finger across the rim. “Honestly, I’ve been here for about forty minutes. Just kept pacing the motel room, so I thought I’d watch the clock here instead.” One of his shoulders lifted and you found a smile twitching at your lips.

“Motel? Wouldn’t happen to be the Blue Skies one, would it?” Your cheeks turned a shade darker as a few vivid memories flashed in your brain. It didn’t matter how old you were, you didn’t think you’d ever forget that weekend.

“Couldn’t come into town without visiting the old place.”

You opened your mouth to respond but was cut off by the sound of a waitress smacking her gum. “What can I get for ya?” Her voice was directed at you but she was only occasionally glancing in your direction.

The sound of you clearing your throat seemed to snap her out of her Dean-like trance. “Can I get a chocolate milkshake? With extra whipped cream… and a bacon cheeseburger, extra bacon. Oh! And a side of fries, thank you.” While the waitress, Krissy, seemed to pale at the amount of calories you just ordered, Dean looked at you like you hung the stars. Too bad your gaze was elsewhere and you missed it.

“I’ll have the same thing, but extra onions on mine too.” Dean gave her a small smile but kept his attention on you. You snickered at his order as Krissy walked off. “What?”

You leaned your elbows on the table, shrugging. “Always with the extra onions, not sure I have enough gum to combat the breath I’m about to endure.”

Dean snorted and pulled a pack of icy mint gum from his pocket. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Gotcha covered.” He sent you a wink and tucked it back into his pants.

A strained silence fell over the two of you, both awkwardly fiddling with your fingers. “So um, you find anything solid on the case?” That was a good common ground to start on.

His brows furrowed at your question, taking a moment to consider his answer. “Not as much as we’d hope. The biter’s good, covers their tracks more than usual. Been tracking the attacks over the past couple counties. This is the first time the victim was left alive. Just trying to figure out where they’re camped.”

You nodded, genuinely interested in what he had to say. You always did like hearing him talk about hunting. It was fascinating to you, all of these creatures you only dreamed of were out there somewhere. “It’s funny… even after you uh, left, I still always kept an eye out for things here and there. Yanno, your kind of things.”

The mention of him leaving seemed to strike a nerve inside of Dean, his shoulders squared and spine straightened. “Yeah about tha-”

Dean was interrupted by Krissy setting the edge of her tray on the table and began passing out the various orders. You practically drooled at the milkshake in front of you. Quickly grabbing a fry, you scooped up some milkshake and popped the salty sugary treat into your mouth. Dean’s nose crinkled but he chuckled anyways. He never did understand why you did that. “So what were you saying?”

“Oh I just had a question.” Dean wiped the excess ketchup from the corner of his mouth and set the burger down. You arched your eyebrow waiting for him to continue. He looked so uncomfortable you almost told him to forget about it. “Sam and I have been here for a couple days now. And uh, I stopped at the store one of the days and you were there. I wanted to say something but you were with your boyfriend or husb-”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” You held up a hand, eyes wide with amusement and a loud laugh escaped your lips. Dean seemed confused by your laughter but you just couldn’t help it. The idea of you and Jason being married and having a kid was funny to you.

After you controlled your outburst, you wiped a stray tear from the corner of your eyes and let out a huff. “Okay um, do you remember Jason? From high school, my best friend?” Dean nodded and shoved three fries in his mouth. “That was him, not my boyfriend and definitely not my husband. “You giggled a little again. “Just my best friend.”

Dean’s shoulders seemed to relax a little after that. “And the little girl?”

“Addison is Jason’s daughter, while I’m not biologically her mother, I am the closest thing she has to one.” The oldest brother slouched back in his seat, the look of relief washing over his features. “What about you, Winchester? Any special woman manage to hold you down?”

You wanted to smack yourself for asking that, you didn’t even know which answer you preferred to hear. All you did know, was that your heart was pounding faster than it was two minutes ago. The corner of Dean’s lips turned up into a smirk. “Nah, no one was ever as special as you.”

His words were sweet, eyes kind and caring. It was exactly what got you attached to him in the first place. It was also what got your heart broken. You couldn’t allow yourself to feel that way again, not when he was only here for business, then off to the next case. Your smile faltered and head shook. “You don’t get to say things like that anymore, Dean.”

A flash of hurt crossed over his eyes but he quickly regained his composure. Running a hand across his jaw, he kept his eyes locked on you so intently it made you squirm. “Why can’t I?”

You scoffed around the chewed up burger and rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I completely forgot that it wasn’t you who I fell in love with and then got my heart ripped from my chest that was the other Dean Winchester.” You finished with a sarcastic smile and took another bite, keeping your eyes cast downwards.

“Listen Y/N, what happened all those years ago wa-”

“Stop! I didn’t come here looking for excuses. I accepted what happened for what it was. I don’t need… anything from you.” You huffed, no longer feeling hungry. Your nose turned up and pushed your plate to the middle of the table. Jason was right, you should’ve just come home.

Dean shifted awkwardly in his seat, his knuckles turned white from clenching. The vein in his neck tensed as his jaw ticked. None of it was out of anger, simply panic. “Please, let me explain sweetheart.”

If your eyes rolled any harder they would’ve fallen from your head. Grabbing your purse, you rummaged until you found a twenty dollar bill and tossed it on the table. You had to get out of there, you could feel your throat contracting and a tear sting your eye. “I can’t, Dean.”

Dean’s POV

Lunch with Y/N was not going to plan. At all. All I had wanted to do was explain what happened all those years ago and get back in her good graces. But of course my big mouth wasn’t connected to my brain and I had to ruin it. Now I sat at the table with a slack jaw and watched as she dashed for the front door with tears in her eyes.

When my brain fully comprehended what I just witnessed my feet moved faster than I thought possible. I was thankful for her shaky hands when I found her fumbling to find her keys. “Y/N!” I yelled her name but he kept her head down, shaking it slightly.

A growl left my chest as I gently gripped her upper arm and turned her around. “Swe-” I sighed, quickly correcting myself. “Y/N, you gotta stop running for me. I’m not that young anymore I don’t know if I can keep up much longer.”

Her bottom lip quivered and I had to stop myself from tracing it with my thumb. She let out a sniffle and blinked hard. “I never asked you to chase me.”

The smile on my face was inevitable. Even with a runny nose and glassy eyes she was single handedly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. “Can’t exactly leave you hanging now, can I?” One of my eyebrows rose in a teasing manner.

Y/N’s brow creased and bit at her bottom lip, continuing to shake her head. “You did it before.”

My eyes softened and I tried to convey every ounce of regret into my expression. “And I promise you that it was the biggest regret of my life.” Her walls seemed to crack but only barely. My hands slid down her arm to her wrist, carefully caressing it. I felt a hint of raised skin and my eyes immediately dropped. Nestled underneath the strap of her watch was a set of initials I knew all too well. I still had mine but I had no expectation of her keeping hers. “You still have it?”

Slowly, Y/N nodded and drew in a ragged breath. When my hand began to travel back up her arm, every muscle I passed over seemed to tense. But I didn’t stop. Her breathing changed when I reached the top of her shoulder and carefully moved to cup the side of her neck. I kept my eyes locked onto hers, watching for any sign of her wanting me to stop.

When I didn’t, my thumb pressed against the underside of her chin to tilt her head back slightly. Y/N molded against my touch, let me move her how I wanted it. The look on her face was intoxicating. Her eyes were hazy and hooded, lips parted slightly, cheeks tinted pink. I swallowed hard and cautiously dipped my head closer to hers.

I would be lying if I said my hands weren’t shaking. I couldn’t even hear my own breathing over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. My nose brushed against hers and I swore I heard the tiniest of whimpers come from her mouth.

There was no more than a breath between the two of us. I’ve dreamed of this moment for years. Finally having Y/N back in my arms, being able to taste the sweet taste of her mouth that I could barely remember anymore. One of her hands lifted to rest against the center of my chest. Damn her little hand was warm.

“Dean…” I felt her say my name more than I heard it. But if that little whisper didn’t make me weak in the knees I don’t know what would.

My fingers flex around her neck slightly, tracing the line of her jaw with the pad of my thumb. “What, sweetheart?” I felt her shiver at the pet name and it was hard not to smile at that. After all this time, I finally had her back where she belonged.

“I should go home.”

The words lingered in the air for a moment before I fully realized what she had said. It felt as if she dropped a bucket of ice down my back. Goosebumps rose on my skin and they weren’t the good kind. Looking in her in the eyes I realized she was serious and I took a step back, dropping my hand from her body.

Neither of us said anything for a moment, I couldn’t think of anything to say, I just kept on looking at her. Y/N shifted her weight between her feet and turned her attention back to her purse and pulled her car keys free. Turning to her door, she quickly unlocked it and moved to sit down. Before she could shut the door, my hand shot out and grabbed the edge of the door. “Wait!” Her fingers froze on the ignition and slowly turned her eyes in my direction. “Am I gonna see you again?” Her mouth opened and closed a few times. “Y/N, please.”

All she gave was one nod of her head. I wasn’t sure if I should believe it or not but what else was I supposed to do? Hold her here and demand she stay with me? Listen to me? Take me back? I gave her the best smile I was able to muster and let her close the door.

I stood in the parking lot for a few moments, watching as Y/N backed up and turned towards the road. There was nothing left for me to do but pray like hell I didn’t fuck everything up for the second time.

TAGS: @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

[i-am-made-of-memoriies]

Okay, so I’m going to shamelessly post a fic that I wrote for my O.C Amathel. She is not a self-insert ( @spideypan would never forgive me for that), but a completely independent character who is incredibly different from me. This will probably be a two shot (maybe more?), but you never know!

The characters and themes of this story will be a mix of the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings movies and the books, because though I’m not really a fan of the Hobbit movie, some characters have potential!

Summary of the first chapter: Amathel of the Woodland Realm has been sent on a scouting mission with a young and promising silvan elf, Tauriel. Though the scouting mission is Amathel’s priority, she can’t help speaking at length with Tauriel and sharing the trials and tribulations that come with being part of the Mirkwood royal family. 

Amathel closed her eyes briefly, imagining the targets around her, the way her bowstring cut into her fingers, and the weight of the bow in her hand. Breathing in the sweet air of the forest, she opened her eyes and loosed arrow after arrow. Much to her pleasure, each arrow met their mark, impaled deep into the target.

“Sister,” A familiar voice called from behind Amathel, “Father requests your presence.”

She turned to face the voice, meeting the gaze of Legolas, her brother. “Thank you for the message. You may use the field now, if you’d like. I just need to pick up my arrows first.”

“Thank you, but I think I will go for a ride through the forests,” Legolas mused, “I am in need of a quick trip.”

“So be it! I will see you at dinner?”

“Of course.”

Amathel reached the throne room, still clad in her training gear, bow in hand. “You called.”

“Indeed, I did.” Thranduil sat askew on his throne as he often would, nursing a glass of wine in his right hand.

“Is there a task you would like me to perform?” Amathel did not dare make eye contact with Thranduil; from a young age, she had been afraid of her father’s cold aura and had subsequently grown distant from him. After the death of her mother, the distance only grew until she considered herself more of one of Thranduil’s guards than an offspring.

“There is a Silvan elf I would like for you to scout with. She has rising potential and I believe you could help her grow as a hunter.”

“I will gladly take this assignment. What is her name?”

“Tauriel.” Thranduil took a long sip of wine, “You are to meet her in half-and-hour in front of the throne room.”

Amathel nodded in acknowledgment and lifted her bow from the ground. In the time between her meeting with Tauriel, she opted to retire briefly to her room and read. To pass time, Amathel enjoyed the grace of elven poetry. Though she felt duty bound to protecting her people and home, she secretly hoped that she could settle down one day and become a poet. After she was done fighting and killing, she could only hope for a simple life, full of art and peace.

The minutes flew by and before she knew it, the bells of the hour had rung. Grabbing her cloak and bow, Amathel fastened her quiver across her chest and jogged through the meandering hallways of the palace. In front of the grand doors of the throne room, a tall, lean elf stood, checking her arrow tips.

“You must be Tauriel.” Amathel nodded her head as a sign of respect, “I am Amathel, daughter of Thranduil.” Though she uttered those words with frequency, they never failed to feel foreign and leaden on her tongue.

Tauriel nodded back, “Your father has asked us to attend dinner then depart.”

“We are to leave in the evening?” Amathel knew that the woods were the most treacherous during the night; in the darkness, creatures who would not likely show their ugly countenances in the daylight found courage to venture out of their dens.

“I suppose we are,” Tauriel chuckled, “I’m sure the king has his reasons.”

“But of course.”

Dinner was quiet as usual. Amathel’s eldest brother and heir to the throne, Elyon, sat to the right of Thranduil, his posture perfect and his bites dainty. Legolas, the youngest, sat properly as well, glancing towards Amathel every few minutes, as if imploring with his eyes, “who is the girl next to you”.

Finally, Thranduil spoke up, “You may have noticed an addition to the table this evening.”

Legolas nodded, relieved that his question was finally being answered.

“This is Tauriel, a Silvan elf with whom Amathel is to go on a scouting mission.” Thranduil announced, extending a graceful arm to towards Tauriel, “They are to leave tonight.”

“About that,” Amathel began, “I mean this with no disrespect, but why are we to leave at night? Night is when danger is greatest.”

“I trust you to defend yourselves,” Thranduil met Amathel’s gaze, “Perceive this as an exercise.”

Amathel nodded and returned to her meal, taking small sips of her wine. As much as she hated to admit it, she was quite a lightweight, and though she could beat any man or dwarf in a drinking contest of their own ale, she could seldom finish more than a glass of elven wine.

Tauriel, on the other hand, finished her glass in two hearty gulps, thanking the servant that filled her glass again. Amathel watched her intently from the corner of her eye, observing her motions. She was bold, each movement strong, but still beautiful. Her features were delicate, yet defined, and her long, red hair cascaded down her back. Unlike Legolas and Thranduil, Amathel and Elyon possessed darker shades of hair instead of the near-white. This was a feature taken from their late mother. Instead of hair color, Legolas had his mother’s thin face and bright eyes.

The remainder of dinner passed in silence. As soon as Thranduil finished his meal, he stood up, his robes billowing out around him.

“You two may grab supplies and depart within the hour.” He motioned towards Amathel and Tauriel, “Be back by nightfall tomorrow.”

“Of course, my lord.” Tauriel bowed her head respectfully and Amathel followed quickly in suit.

Before the two could leave, Legolas caught Amathel’s wrist. “I saw you looking at her.” He mentioned, his voice full of faux nonchalance.

“Indeed.” Though Amathel was caught off guard, she pretended to expect the question, “I am to go on a scouting mission with her tonight, I’d like to get to know her as well as I can.”

“By gazing at her profile throughout all of dinner?” Legolas teased, a playful smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

Amathel huffed quickly, “I must leave. I’ll see you tomorrow, brother.”

“Be safe.” Legolas, placed his hand on Amathel’s shoulder.

“You know I’ll be fine.”

Amathel and Tauriel set off into the forests just as the sun receded behind the peaks of the mountains.

“Tell me about yourself,” Amathel began a conversation, “My father says that you are a proficient hunter.”

Tauriel chuckled, “I’m sure he exaggerates. I am average at most.”

“I’m sure you’re being modest. Why did you learn archery? If you were male, I wouldn’t have to ask, but for women like us, learning to fight is a choice.”

“I wished to be able to protect those that I love.” Tauriel’s horse moved in perfect synchronization with Amathel’s so that they were able to converse with ease. “Also, growing up alongside my brothers, I hated to be the weak one. Learning to fight only felt natural. And you?”

“I am the daughter of Thranduil,” Amathel chuckled, clenching her fist as she uttered the words, “I could have chosen to live my life as a doted-on princess, but like you, raised alongside two brothers, I loathed being weak.”

“You must be an apt fighter.”

“I am not bad, no, but I do not enjoy killing. One day, I hope to live a life of peace. Though I want peace, I don’t want to be weak; I want to know how to defend myself and my people, but never have to use it.”

“You do not enjoy killing?” Tauriel’s eyes widened, “When your father spoke of you, he mentioned the ease in which you have ended the lives of orcs in the past. He says you are a natural.”

“I suppose he would. I spent little time with him while I was younger.” Amathel remembered the first time she had to kill an orc. She had never fought anyone in open combat, only regulated training matches. While on a ride through the forest with one of the elven generals that was in charge of her training, they came across a few errant orcs.

Amathel remembered the terrifying faces of the orcs getting closer to her. Quickly, they would be too close to hit them with arrows and she’d be forced to resort to close combat. She could run away and let the general deal with the orcs. There were few enough for that to be possible; but if he reported back to her father that Amathel was a coward, she’d only be asserting her weakness compared to her brothers. By the time she had mustered enough courage to fight back, the orc was in close combat range. Amathel had been trained extensively with a sword. Unlike her brothers, who preferred daggers, she had chosen a sword.

Unsheathing her blade, she pivoted on her heel, her moves circular and flowy, typical of elven fighters. With well-practiced ease, she parried the blows from the orcs, finally getting into a position to finish it. Holding her breath, she ducked under the orc’s messy blow and plunged the blade into the chink of its armor. Caught by surprise, it stumbled back, allowing Amathel to strike it over the head with the butt of her sword. The orc crumpled to the ground, bleeding black blood over the grass, its body completely motionless.

By the time Amathel had killed a single orc, the elven general had taken out the rest of them.

“Are you alright?” He ran over to where Amathel was frozen, leaning heavily on her sword.

“I killed it.” She murmured, her voice shaking. Glancing at the corpse again, a wave of nausea and dizziness overcame her. Her body heaved as she retched violently, disgusted in what she had done.

“I will take you home to your father now, you are not well.” The general helped her to her feet.

“I am fine!” She pushed the general’s hand away, standing on her own, “It was my first kill, that’s all. I can go on. I need not to return home.” Amathel was afraid that her father would quickly deem her a coward and disallow her from training further. She refused to be seen as weak; not in the eyes of her father.

“I will take you word, then. We continue now.”

“Amathel?” Tauriel’s voice snapped her back into reality.

“Ah yes, my apologies! I was merely spacing out for a moment.” Amathel waved her hand dismissing Tauriel’s concern, “Ah, what was I saying? Right! I truly do dislike killing. The first time I killed an orc, I threw up, in fact.”

“Oh! Well I’m sorry to take you on a fighting mission, then.” Tauriel looked concerned. She expected Amathel to be a stone-cold killer, trained extensively in warfare. Instead, she seemed to be quite the pacifist.

“Worry not! As long as there is danger, I have no qualms against fighting it. I can only hope for a peaceful future.”

“Good, for the orcs have become more bold.” Tauriel’s tone grew serious, “They now venture further into the forest.”

“We will take out as many as we can,” Amathel agreed, “We are nearly at the border of the forest.”

“Shall we make camp and begin scouting?” Tauriel suggested, motioning to the pack on the side of her horse.

Amathel nodded, dismounting her horse gracefully, landing on the ground without a sound. Unpacking the supplies from her horse, she gazed at Tauriel inconspicuously. Amathel noticed how graceful Tauriel was in all movements, as if dancing; the more Amathel observed, the more enthralled she was by Tauriel. Not only was she graceful in movement and speech, but she was strong of will and similar to Amathel herself. Maybe Legolas had a point. Amathel was interested.

After placing her bedroll on the ground, she beckoned Tauriel to sit beside her.

“Tell me of your childhood.” Her voice was quiet and inviting.

“But, we must scout.” Tauriel appeared opposed to the idea. Behind the determination in her eyes, Amathel could spot a yearning for conversation.

“We can spare a minute.” Amathel chuckled, “We will be efficient.”

Tauriel capitulated, settling onto the bedroll, her legs crossed. “My family is small,” she began, gazing off indefinitely, “Very typical, in fact. My father was a royal guard, which provided some privilege, and my mother stayed home and cared for me and my siblings. My brothers were ambitious children. They aspired to be royal guards like my father, training in archery as soon as they could grasp a bow. My parents encouraged it. Strong sons make a prosperous family. They were not nearly as enthusiastic when I expressed interest in warfare. They allowed it nonetheless. My first few centuries were uneventful, sweet childhood. After I was old enough to marry, my parents encouraged it. I refused and found my own way. Though they weren’t pleased, they respected my opinion. That is all.” She smiled softly, looking to Amathel, whose eyes had not left her face. “And you?”

Troubled childhoods were a token of one of royal lineage. If your father was Thranduil of the Mirkwood elves, life was that much more exciting. “I am the middle child.” Amathel started with the obvious fact. As a middle child, she had neither the privilege of the first-born nor the intrigue of the youngest. “My older brother, Elyon, was the perfect heir, similar to father in his sense of...superiority. Though, I will admit, he lacked father’s flamboyance. Before Legolas was born, I spent most of my time with my mother, following her everywhere. Though she was the queen, she was independent and strong. I admired that. Once Legolas was born, I had a playfellow. We got along splendidly; both of us despised the stuffy haughtiness of the palace and would often embark on long rides through the forests. It was nice. Mother died when Legolas was still young. Father never spoke of it, he didn’t spare us the details. All we knew was that she had died. That is all.”

Tauriel simply nodded, her brows creased, as if trying to formulate a response.

Breaking the tension in the air, Amathel stood up. “Let’s scout.”

“Yes, good plan,” Tauriel replied, flustered. Quickly, she assembled her supplies and fastened her quiver over her chest. Signalling to Amathel, she ran deeper into the forest.

[rose-of-pollux]

The Skull Cove Lighthouse Affair (MFU fic), part 4 / 4

Title: The Skull Cove Lighthouse Affair Rating: PG13 (for action/danger) Chapter summary: Napoleon and Illya solve the mystery--but a malevolent spirit has reason for them not to reveal the truth. Notes: This version of the fic (cross-posted to AO3) is light slash; if you prefer reading gen, there is a gen version on ff.net.

                                        Act IV: The Insatiable Greed

It took them some time to get back down the stairs and outside to where the others were gathered, but, as they arrived, Fusco’s car was already being gently laid back onto the ground.  Despite this, Fusco scrambled out of the vehicle, still staring at it with a mix of horror and frustration.

“What happened!?” Illya asked.

“I don’t know!” Fusco bellowed.  “I was trying to get through the fog, and, all of a sudden, the car started floating!”

“Look at where the car is pointed, though,” Napoleon indicated.  “Right towards the cliff.  You’d have ended up a ghost yourself if this one hadn’t intervened!”

Fusco grumbled something under his breath; Napoleon ignored him and turned to Hawthorne.

“We didn’t really find anything up at the top; there is one other place I wanted to look at, and that was at the bottom of the cliff—is there a trail that leads down there?”

“There is,” Hawthorne said. “But I’d advise against it in the fog, too—it’s pretty steep, even on the trail.”

“I say we forget that, Napoleon,” Illya said.  “We’d be just as foolish as Fusco if we knowingly attempted that.”

Fusco glared at him, but Illya ignored him; Napoleon, of course, agreed with Illya, and then changed his inquiry.

“Do you happen to know the exact spot where the ship went down?” he asked.

“I do—not that it matters on a day as foggy as this, though—you won’t be able to see a thing,” Hawthorne sighed.  “But on clear days, you can actually see the shipwreck under the water from the top of the lighthouse.  …It’s a humbling experience—especially when the ghost ship rises from the spot, according to the thrill seekers.”  He sighed. “And it doesn’t look like Junior and I will get away like we usually do—so we’ll be around with you when the ghost ship rises again.”

“So the ghost ship…” Illya began.  “It rises on Halloween and… goes back down again by morning?”

“Just before dawn,” James Jr said, with a nod.  “Apparently, at exactly the same time it sunk a hundred years ago.”

Lotte shuddered.

Schuler attempted to look through the fog, but gave up.

“Well, the ship will be visible through the fog, I’m sure,” he said.  “Guess there’s nothing to do but sit around and wait for dark.”

Lotte turned and ran back inside, much to the concern of her sister, who followed her.  Napoleon and Illya also went inside.

“Are you alright?” Napoleon asked.

“No.  I wish to leave this place,” Lotte said.

“If it is a small consolation, the spirit of the lighthouse keeper is not a malevolent one,” Illya pointed out.  “As you saw, he saved Fusco from his own stupidity.”

Lotte sighed and nodded; she had to agree with that.

“Illya’s right,” Napoleon said.  “We’re perfectly safe in the lighthouse; this place is as solid as a rock--”

To demonstrate, he struck the central support column with his fist, which the stairwell was wrapped around, and was startled and distracted by a hollow clank.  Illya and the sisters also stared at the column in confusion.

“…Well, maybe not as solid as I thought,” Napoleon said.

“Why would this central column be hollow?” Illya wondered aloud.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Napoleon said.  He turned to the Rigassi sisters.  “Ladies, I highly recommend staying in your room if you want to feel safe; we’ll investigate the mystery behind this central column.”

The girls nodded and went back to their room as Napoleon and Illya inspected the central column as they ascended the spiral staircase.

“There’s only one reason why a central column would be hollow, Napoleon,” Illya said.  “And that is to conceal something within it.”

“And if there’s something hidden in it, there has to be some way to get to it,” Napoleon agreed.

If there was something hidden, then it was well-hidden, however; as the duo continued to ascend the staircase, there didn’t appear to a way into the column, and soon, they were back at the light at the top—and the column did not continue into it.

“…Well, that didn’t make any sense at all…” Napoleon said.  “Were we wrong?”

Illya paused for a moment, mulling things over.  Absently, he kicked at the old, dusty carpet that covered the floor.  Napoleon wrinkled his nose as dust filled the air, and he was about to say something when he looked down and noticed something through one of the threadbare patches of the carpet.

“Hang on…” he said, kneeling down in front of the spot.  He frowned for a moment, and then knocked on the floor.

It, too, gave out a hollow sound; his eyes widened as he exchanged a glance with Illya, whose eyebrows arched in surprise.

Without even needing to say a word, the two of them pulled the carpet back, revealing a thinly-cut trapdoor in the floor.

“There is the entry,” Illya said, as he pried it open.  He shined a flashlight down into the open pillar—sure enough, it was hollow all the way through.  Moving the flashlight around revealed a series of metal rungs built into the side of the pillar.

“This must go to some sort of secret cellar down there,” Napoleon said.  “I think I want to climb down and take a look…”

“I would advise against it,” Illya said.  “But if you must, I wouldn’t trust this old ladder that is built into it; I have an extendable grappling hook in our supplies.  I suggest we use that to climb down.

Napoleon considered this for a moment, and then nodded.

“Good idea,” he said. “But let’s act nonchalant—we don’t want the other guests realizing what we’re up to.”

“…How nonchalant can you look carry a grappling hook?”

Fortunately, they didn’t run into the other guests—the sisters were in their room, and the others were still trying to figure out what had happened to Fusco’s car outside.

Using the grappling hook, Napoleon clambered down into the hollow central column; he was keeping track of the floors, and paused once he realized they had certainly gone below the ground floor.

The central passageway continued for another 20 feet before Napoleon’s feet hit the ground; looking around with a flashlight, he saw that there was an underground tunnel that led downward, further into the cliff.

“Hey, Illya, it looks like we’ll be able to get to the bottom of the cliff after all!”

“Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t coincidental?” Illya replied, as he joined Napoleon and saw the tunnel.

“Because I’m sure it isn’t, too,” Napoleon said.  “I think we may have found the key to this whole thing…”

The tunnel looped around and continued downward into the cliff; it was almost a half hour before it began to level off—and water soon was covering the floor of the tunnel.

“The tide affects the water level,” Illya realized, checking his watch.  “See?  The tide is coming in now—would you rather come back later, Napoleon?”

Napoleon frowned.

“Let’s see how much deeper it gets,” he said.  “I think I’m okay for now--”

No sooner had he said that than he tripped over something and fell on his face into the water.  Illya hastily helped him up as he gasped for breath.

“Okay, nevermind, let’s go back,” Napoleon sputtered.  “Ugh… Well, here’s another suit for the laundromat.”  He scowled at the wet mud and sand that now covered him.

Illya gave him a sympathetic look and glanced down to see what exactly Napoleon had tripped over.

“Napoleon!”

He aimed his flashlight in the water, showing what was once a small, wooden boat—now no more than chunks of rotten wood.

“Someone had been using this tunnel,” Napoleon said, forgetting about his muddy clothes in an instant.  “But I wonder…”  He trailed off as his flashlight caught the remains of letters carved into part of the wooden boat.  “‘W…y…v…’”

“The Wyvern!?” Illya exclaimed.

“It’s the lifeboat that Purser Smith must have taken!” Napoleon said, continuing to shine his flashlight around the pieces of the lifeboat.  “Huh…  What were the odds that the storm would send his lifeboat right into this cave…?”  He trailed off again as his flashlight beam caught something else in and amongst the rotten wood—something mostly buried in the silt and mud, but still giving off an unmistakable shine…

Napoleon reached into the muck and pulled out a gold bar, covered in the gunk, but still very much a treasure.  Illya’s eyes widened at the sight of it.

“The odds of the storm sending the lifeboat here by chance are not as likely now,” he said.  He snapped his fingers.  “Napoleon, do you remember Adams’s log?  ‘I pray they will be able to make it safely, especially with that heavy cargo.’  Gold, Napoleon—they were carrying gold!”

“No wonder they were willing to risk the storm to bring it in,” Napoleon said.  He then frowned.  “Then… that means that…  Lying just off of the coast here is possibly…”

“…A fortune in century-old gold,” Illya finished.  His eyes widened.  “Napoleon, can I speculate on a possible scenario?”

“Speculate away…”

“Whenever merchant ships were carrying gold, there were, generally, very few people who knew about it—for reasons of safety.”

“Obviously,” Napoleon agreed.  “In a case like this, the less who would know, the better.”

“Exactly,” Illya said. “The captain would know—and he would trust his first mate with this information, too.  Keeper Adams seems to have known, as well, given the log entry, plus the fact that the shipping company would have been questioning him about the wreck later in order to find out what happened to their gold—unless the gold was off the ledgers, but, even so, Adams knew the captain well enough to be privy to the contents of the cargo.  Other than the three of them, there would be no one else who would know in the event that things on the voyage go smoothly.”

“…But things didn’t go smoothly; most of the crew got sick, including the first mate,” Napoleon recalled.  “I see where you’re going with this—Captain Sturges had to let Purser Smith in on the secret of the cargo…”

“…And, somehow, Purser Smith becomes the sole survivor of the crew,” Illya finished.  “With gold in hand, apparently, right into this tunnel.”

“And this tunnel goes all the way to the top of the lighthouse…” Napoleon realized.

The two exchanged glances.

“The light that went out!” they exclaimed, in unison.

“…Bozhe moi…” Illya gasped.  “Then it wasn’t Adams’s fault at all—Purser Smith sabotaged the lighthouse out of greed!”

Napoleon nodded.

“He grabbed some of the gold and took off in the lifeboat—probably couldn’t take as much as he wanted since it would be too heavy,” Napoleon theorized.  “Either he knew about this tunnel, or just ended up in it by happenstance from the storm.  Regardless of how he got here and found out where it led, he decided to take advantage of it.”

“He probably did not intend to have the ship sink,” Illya said.  “At least, I would hope that was the case—perhaps he just wanted to run it aground, so that he could retrieve more gold later…”

“But the ship sank; it would have caused quite a stir—so many people milling around, including press and investigators…” Napoleon said.  “Smith wouldn’t have had a chance to dive for the gold, Adams probably stuck around for long hours out of guilt, and the new keeper probably stayed extra hours, too, just to be vigilant and make sure nothing happened on his watch.”

“But then the place was abandoned,” Illya said.  “Why did he not go for the gold then?”

“Maybe whoever ordered the shipment hired divers to collect it before Smith could,” Napoleon suggested. “But I feel like that would have been mentioned in the logs…  Maybe Smith did go for the gold afterwards, who knows.  At any rate, at least Adams has been vindicated…”  Napoleon trailed off, slapping his forehead.  “Vindicate!  It wasn’t about the wind at all!”

“What?”

“What I thought I heard Adams say—he wasn’t saying ‘Wind hates me,’ he was saying ‘Vindicate me!’ He goes to visit Captain Sturges’s ghost at the shipwreck—Sturges probably told him about Smith’s betrayal!”

Illya paused.

“Then… do you suppose that the spirit who took Schuler’s camera and polaroids of Adams’s footprints was Smith—trying to keep us from finding out the truth?” he asked, putting the pieces together.

“That must be it; there’s no one else who would benefit from Adams taking the blame for the shipwreck,” Napoleon said.  “But why would Smith be haunting this place if he eventually got his gold?”

They glanced at the gold bar in Napoleon’s hand, and then out the tunnel—towards the cliffside and the ocean.

“Perhaps he did not get the gold,” Illya said.  “Perhaps he never got the chance—or perhaps he drowned trying to get it.  Regardless of the reason, Smith never got to enjoy the gold.”

“That must have driven him crazy—in life, and after,” Napoleon mused.  “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that—let’s get back up there and let everyone know the truth.  Maybe then, Adams will finally be able to cross over once the truth of his story is out.”

Illya nodded and moved to follow Napoleon back the way they had come, but a sudden gust of wind that was abnormally chill-inducing blew back at them with such a force that they could not proceed down the tunnel.

“What’s going on!?” Illya demanded.

“I don’t think Purser Smith appreciates the truth getting out,” Napoleon scowled, and he furiously addressed the spirit.  “Hey! It’s over!  It’s been a hundred years—and everything you did was for nothing! Let this whole thing go, and let Adams and the rest of the Wyvern crew cross over!”

The chill wind blew with a greater force, sending Napoleon flying backward into the rising water.

“Napoleon--!”

Illya swam after him, helping him stay afloat.

“What now…?” Napoleon said, looking at rising water with concern.  “We can’t go back—and the tide is coming in…”

“…He means to drown us…” Illya said, going pale; Napoleon followed suit.  “So many deaths are on his hands already—two more mean nothing at this point.”

“Should we try and rush past him again and try to get back up the tunnel?” Napoleon asked.

“It is not a force from this world; we’ll never make it,” Illya said.  He looked behind him, at the exit to the sea that was rapidly being closed off by water.  “We shall have to swim for it, Napoleon; it’s our only chance.”

Napoleon exhaled, cursing his weak swimming skills.

“I will help you,” Illya assured him, giving him an encouraging kiss.

Napoleon nodded, kissing him back, and the two of them swam—against the rising tide, out into the water.

Illya was, of course, true to his word, refusing to let go of his partner.  A few times, they did end up, briefly, underwater, and they saw a glimpse of the wreck of the Wyvern off in the distance.  Once they finally made it to the shoreline, they glanced at each other, both of them exhausted from their efforts—as well as the grim truth of what had happened that night a hundred years ago.

So much death and devastation, and for what?  Bars of yellow metal?  Were they really worth the lives of so many innocent men?  And yet, this was just one example—gold and the greed it caused had been the motive for plots upon plots throughout the course of history—and would likely continue for centuries to come.

After catching their breath, Illya spoke again.

“We need to make our way up the cliffside path; the tide will continue to rise,” he said.

“Smith will try to stop us,” Napoleon realized.  “You heard what Hawthorne said; in this fog, the trek is going to be dangerous.”

“At least we have some amount of daylight,” Illya sighed.

No sooner had he said that than the entire area around the lighthouse and the cliff was surrounded in darkness.

“What!?” Illya exclaimed in frustration.  He aimed a flashlight at his watch.  “It’s only noon!”

“His powers will be stronger in the dark,” Napoleon realized.  “He’s giving himself an edge!”

“He can do what he wishes—we are not going to drown here!” Illya fumed.  “I vowed after last year—I will not let anything from the supernatural world take you away from me! My love—our love—is stronger than his greed!”

He kissed Napoleon again, and the darkness around the immediate area around them lifted slightly.

“…I think you’re on to something here, Illya,” Napoleon said, after they broke apart.

“You aren’t just saying that to kiss me again, are you?”

“No… well, mostly no,” Napoleon admitted.  “But look; our kiss did this—lifted the darkness a bit.  I think even part of the fog has thinned around us, too…”

Illya nodded.

“Let’s go, Dorogoy.”

It was a slow journey up the cliffside path—Smith sent everything he could at them to stop them, or send them tumbling down the cliff—darkness, wind, fog, and rain.  But they stuck together, reaffirming their trust and love, and these acts of true love were enough to lighten the area and clear it of the malice-infected elements.

It was as they were nearly two-thirds up the hill that they paused; coming at them from the opposite end of the path was the blue ghost light Napoleon had seen in the lighthouse when they had arrived the night before—and following the light were Schuler, the Rigassi sisters, Hawthorne, his son, and even Fusco.

“I see them!” Lotte cried, pointing at Napoleon and Illya.

They hastened down the path as quickly as they could.

“What’s this?” Napoleon asked.

“You never came back from inspecting the pillar,” Lotte said, a slight quiver in her voice.  “And then everything was covered in darkness. Gina and me, we told Signore Hawthorne and Signore Schuler for help—and then this appeared…”

She indicated the ghost light.

“We remembered what you said about this one not being evil,” Gina added.  “So we all agreed to follow him, in the hopes he would lead us to you.”

“Yes, this is the ghost of the lighthouse keeper,” Napoleon said.  “Who wrongly thought that he was responsible for the wreck of the Wyvern…”

The wind and darkness howled around them again, and Napoleon glared furiously at the greedy spirit.

“Look, I told you—it’s over!  The power of love that Illya and I have is stronger than you can ever handle!  And it’s not just the two of us—look around you, Smith!  Look at these people who came to help us, when they haven’t even known us for 24 hours yet!  They didn’t do this out of greed—this is a goodness that your dark heart can’t touch!”

For a brief moment, a dark, shadowy mass appeared, which then formed into the shape of a person—features were visible in the shadow: a face, bearing a furious expression.

“It’s over, Smith,” Napoleon said, again.  “And your time is up.”

“Do svidaniya,” Illya said, nodding, holding Napoleon’s hand.

Smith let out a frustrated, angry roar, leaped into the air, and plunged into the water—in the direction of the shipwreck, bound by his greed for gold.

The darkness around them dissipated—and then the fog lifted, too.  The weather was a clear, fall morning, just as pleasant as could be.

The ghost light now also took a human shape—Adams, as he had looked in life.

“Thank you, my friends,” he said.  “For clearing my name.  It happened as you suspected—Smith betrayed Sturges and the crew, and led me to think that I had been responsible for the shipwreck.  Sturges and the others never let him claim the gold in life—and now, he will continue in death to claim it, but in vain.”

“It seems to me a fitting punishment,” Illya said.  “He will not be able to cross over until he finally learns to curb his greed.”

“But what about you?” Napoleon asked Adams.

“Now, I may finally rest—but I will wait until tonight, for when my good friend Sturges raises the ghost ship, I will join him—for they, too, were bound to this place until the truth came out.”  He managed a weary smile.  “I would be honored if you stayed here until tonight to see us off.”

Napoleon looked to Illya with a questioning look; the blond sighed, but managed a wan smile.

“Very well,” he said. “It can’t hurt.”

“Si…  We, too, will stay,” Lotte said, causing everyone to look at her in surprise. Gina looked thrilled, exchanging a glance with James Jr.

“Well, you bet I’m staying!” Schuler added.  “Hey, think I can get an interview with you, Mr. Adams?  Sir?  It’d be my first ghost interview--”

“Look, I really have places I need to be, so I’m going to have to turn down this little invitation,” Fusco said, gruffly.  He looked back at Napoleon and Illya, and managed a nod.  “You two did good,” he admitted, and then went back to his car and drove off.

“…He’ll never admit it,” Hawthorne said.  “But I think he really was worried about you boys when you went missing.”

“Well, I do grow on a person,” Napoleon boasted.

Illya just rolled his eyes.

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

There was little ceremony or fanfare that night; Adams had regaled them with tales from a century ago until Captain Sturges and crew emerged from the water on a ghostly version of the Wyvern.

Adams thanked them again and walked out to join them, embracing Sturges’s spirit in joyous relief. And then, as the crew on board waved farewell, they vanished, ship and all—their souls at rest, at last.

By morning, they had gone their separate ways—the Rigassi sisters were on their way to Brooklyn by train while Napoleon and Illya headed to Manhattan by car, aiming to have U.N.C.L.E. track down the rightful owner of the gold and eventually return it to them; Schuler had extended his stay at the bed and breakfast to write out his next book on the story of the Wyvern while everything was still fresh in his mind.

“You know,” Napoleon said, as they sailed along the highway. “Aside from the part where we almost got stuck in that tunnel with the tide coming it, it wasn’t a horrible adventure after all.”

“…I have to agree,” Illya admitted.  “Stingy Jack was far worse.  Most of the spirits were blameless, and the one malevolent one never stood a chance against us.”

“I wonder if he’ll ever let go of his greed…” Napoleon mused.  “Well, even if he does, his fate isn’t so great—with all the lives he took and his lack of remorse, even if he did cross over, he’d end up with old Mr. Zero. He’s probably best off where he is—as an example of what happens when greed consumes you.”

Illya nodded.

“Very true,” he said. “You know I have always opted for living a simple life.”

“Well, comfort and luxury aren’t inherently bad things.”

“Of course not,” Illya agreed.  “I will not look gift horses in the mouth—but I would be sure that others less fortunate than myself would get a chance to benefit from them, as well.  And while I may roll my eyes at your penchant for the luxuries of life, I know that your heart is pure and will not be tainted by greed, for you put human lives ahead of riches—that was where Smith went wrong.”

“Everything I have, everything I have a birthright to…  I’d give them all up in a heartbeat for you,” Napoleon promised.

“I know you would,” Illya said.  “And I do not take that lightly.”  He smiled. “You know I do not wear my heart on my sleeve, but I must say this--I do love you very much, Napoleon, and I know I am a wealthy man solely because I have you in my life.”

“Likewise, Illya,” Napoleon said, smiling back.  “I love you, too.”

A partnership and love as strong as theirs was truly the most valuable treasure that could ever exist.

                                                    The End

[thenickelportrust]

OKAY SINCE YOU'RE WILLING TO INDULGE ME: what if the MC and the LI find themselves under the mistletoe and are very much about to uphold the tradition when someone ruins the moment

Indulgence, (ho-ho-)ho! (In other news I was severely tempted to make the person who interrupts each one of these V but then I realized I couldn’t write V’s without assigning a specific V and then having one of their siblings (aka basically another V) barge in. And sadly that would leave one V left out of the fun.)

Anyway, here you go! An extra-long holiday gift ask!

Side note: because these got so gosh darn long I just kinda put the Exes at a point in the relationship where it wouldn’t really matter whether or not they were your Ex.

Side side note: It’s under the cut to keep the post itself from flooding people immediately.

Finley: The office was fairly quiet. Most people had already left- taking an early start to their holiday break, buying last-minute gifts, or meeting family and friends at various parties. You’re just about getting ready to head out yourself, standing with arms crossed in front of the printer that slowly, and loudly, churns out page after page of your most-recent cover-piece draft. A quick little diddy that you whipped up on whatever new pop scandal you had to cover to keep your cover alive and well. You’ve avoided it up until now because someone had the bright idea to put some mistletoe above the printer, which has resulted in a lot of flustered coworkers laughing uncomfortably as they give some chaste, and somewhat unwilling, pecks on each other’s cheeks. Not willing to participate in this office-wide ritual of discomfort, you quietly procrastinated printing until everyone else left. Now that the office was quiet once more, there’s no one to awkwardly kiss- unless you wanted to try your luck with the printer.

But by its hissing and growling, it probably wouldn’t be all that keen on the idea.

Finally, the printer reluctantly spits out the last page. You gather your work up and turn to leave- but stumble back a bit as you nearly crash into someone entering.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t see- ah…” Finley backpedals to the doorway, their surprised expression softening into a smile when they see you. “It’s you, I didn’t think anyone was still around here…”

“Neither did I.” You admit, then with a quick nod up to the mistletoe, “You avoiding it, too?”

Finley nods once, “I swear, whoever had the bright idea to hang that thing up…” They sigh, “Say, I guess we both failed avoiding it. So…” Finley clears their throat, rubbing the back of their neck- are they- are they blushing? “If you want to get it over with then… Well, ah, I guess it’s custom to make it as awkward as possible, yeah? So which would you prefer- the awkward ‘we both try to kiss the cheek and end up head butting’, the ‘avoiding eye-contact as much as possible before a barely-pass-for-a-kiss on the forehead’ or…?”

“Never took you for one to keep custom, Finn.” You find yourself taking a step forward, the papers set aside atop the printer.

“Mmm, I’m surprised, after all I’ve such a reputation for being formal.” They also drift forward, your back and forth banter fading when their hands drift to your hip, and yours to their shoulders. As if in rebellion of the avoidance-based custom your gazes lock. You brush a strand of straw-colored hair away from their bright blue eyes. You can feel your heartbeat against your chest- you wonder if they can feel it too. You lean forward, your eyes close slowly- until the last thing you see is Finley’s bright blue eyes slowly fluttering closed as well and-

“Hey! Boss! I thought you’d left already!”

Both you and Finley jump- and you may or may not let out a somewhat undignified yelp out of shock. But the jury’s still out on that one, of course. You stumble back, grabbing your papers and holding them out in front of you like a shield. Finley doesn’t fare much better, whipping around so quickly that they nearly slip on the slick tiled floor and end up awkwardly balancing their weight on the old printer- hand landing on its top with a loud bang as they attempt to play it off with stiff casualty.

“Ah, you’re here too! The usual nightworkers, eh?” A coworker who you could’ve sworn had already left stands very much not-having-left with arms crossed over her chest as she grins towards the two of you. Your heart is still beating loudly. Can she hear it? Can Finley? No, no, that’s ridiculous. “I’m just ‘bout to head out, thought I heard something in here.” Her eyes flicker up to the mistletoe.

Please don’t- “Ah I see how it is… Got caught under the mistletoe- eh?” She wiggles her eyebrows conspiratorially. “Well, then I won’t interrupt- have fun you two!” She knocks on the side of the wood once, casting another sly smile your way before disappearing around the corner.

Both you and Finley seem to just… watch her leave with astounded expressions. At least you think so, you can’t really see their expression from here. “Finn-”

Finley’s laughing- you can barely hear it, just quiet chuckling that’s really only hinted at by the bouncing of their shoulders, they turn around to you, one hand digging up into their hair, brushing their messy bangs away from their forehead as they glance up at the mistletoe. “I swear, that thing is cursed.”

You can’t help but laugh a tiny bit as well, “Wouldn’t be that surprised, knowing the luck of this place.”

“Yeah, really. If there’s anywhere that ends up with cursed mistletoe…” They shove their hands into their pockets, Finley’s head shakes slowly, “It’s coming down as soon as I’m done here.”

“Just try not to invoke the wrath of some angry dead guy? That’s honestly the last thing we need.” You shuffle around the papers in your arms, “Well I- I guess I should… get going then…?”

“Ah…” Finley looks down, their face kept a careful blank, “Yeah, I suppose you’ve got… everything you need here.”

You make a noise that might stand in for an agreement, a sullen disappointment digging into your steadily slowing-back-down heart. Just as you pass them, however, a hand latches onto your arm. “Yea-” Your voice stutters to a halt when Finley leans over and quickly presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Happy holidays,” They whisper into your ear, “We should… find some time to celebrate it, together, when there’s not some fake plant hanging over us telling us what to do.”

You couldn’t keep the smile from your face if you tried, “I… I think I’d like that.”

Raf: “So what time did you say your sister was coming over for dinner?” Your currently perched atop a ladder- which on your own would most likely not result in any grievous injuries, but that still didn’t stop Raf from stopping his own helping with the decorations to wait carefully beside your, hands always up and hovering by your hip to make sure you don’t fall.

“According to Ash six o’ clock… which means anywhere between five and seven- ah, be careful!” You can’t help but smile when you see him tense at even the slightest wobbling of the ladder. Who would’ve thought hanging a bunch of lights could be so stressful for one person? You pull back your sleeve and check the watch on your wrist- it’s already five-ten, so with any luck she’ll stick to her proposed-time. There’s still a couple of things you want to put up.

“Is that it, then?” Raf asks hopefully, “At least for here?”

“Hmmm…” You lean back- which of course only makes Raf fidget a tiny bit more, “Not yet, there’s one other thing I want to put up here- think you could grab that tiny box over there? There’s something in it I want to put up right over the doorframe here.” You pat the empty space beside you.

Raf turns warily towards the box, he seems conflicted about leaving your side. You can’t help the wistful sigh- though to be entirely fair you’d be worried if Raf wasn’t so paranoid about even something small like this. You fight a smile from your face, “I’m not gonna fall.” And ultimately fail.

“S-sorry, I know I’m…” Raf backs away, smiling bashfully as he scratches the back of his head- though he still eyes the ladder warily, “I’ll go and get the- uh, the box.” Raf quickly scurries over to where you’ve piled the majority of the decorations in one big culmination of holiday enthusiasm. You sit back on the top rung of the ladder, hands folded underneath your chin as you watch him dig around. The dim, warm light falling around the house from the candles and few lights you’ve left on, the soft music drifting over the air from the speaker that for some unknown reason was so complicated it took the both of you puzzling over it for a solid half hour, and the smell- Raf must have made enough for six people set out on the kitchen and it all smells amazing. Everything is so… quiet. It’s nice. You so rarely get to use those words together nowadays. ‘Quiet’ and ‘nice’.

“This one?” Raf holds up the tiny red box containing something you bought on a silly little whim.

“Yep! That one!” You’re not even really sure what made you buy it.

“Here you go.” Well, no, that’s a lie. You know exactly why you bought it. Raf places one hand against the ladder, glancing up at the red-wrapped box curiously, “What is it, anyway?”

“Oh, just something small.” You pop the top off, you hold it up and let the tiny waxy leaves and little white berries glint with the soft orange glow of the room lights.

“That’s…” Raf trails off, watching you carefully as you stretch over above the doorframe, tying the red ribbon into the string you used to hand the rest of the decorations on. Leaning back, you pause for a moment to admire your handiwork.

“Happy holidays, Raf.” You scoot down a few steps on the ladder and turn towards him- and he’s wearing a grin as big as your own.

“You are… unbelievable.” Raf lowers his head as he laughs, “In all the best ways.”

“And…?”

“And?” You nod to the mistletoe now hanging almost directly above his head. Raf’s eyes crinkle in another smile, “And, apparently, impatient.”

“Hey, now!”

Raf just reaches up, his hands cupping your face, you lean in towards him- arms looping around his neck-

“Happy goddamn holidays, everyone!” The door slams open- a foot kicking its way through- the door hits the side of the wall with ferocity. Apparently more ferocity than it’s assailant intended, as a quick, “Oops!” follows up the loud slamming noise.

And then you, shocked by the sudden noise and in a desperate attempt to scramble back all the while forgetting that you, still, on the ladder, end up kicking the ladder aside and crashing to the ground. Raf, who was no longer expecting you to fall, yelps as well, trying half to catch your fall and half to break it- which all only ends up with the two of you slamming against the floor with the ladder crashing along beside you.

Another, albeit much more quiet, much more apologetic “Oops…?” floats up from the front doorway.

“Are you… alright…?” Raf groans from beneath you, one of his hands presses against his eye.

Your head aches, your knee hurts, and you think you landed at least partially on your funny bone, “I’m great. How about you?”

“I’m good if you’re good.” He smiles- and immediately winces once more.

“No- you’re not.” You gingerly press against his hand, “Let me see- what happened?”

“It’s fine.”

“Raf.”

“You, uh, might’ve landed on my eye, though.” You finally get him to move his hand away- the beginnings of a purple bruise painting the skin around the closed eyelid. “Nothing too bad, though.”

“Raf!”

“I’ll go get some ice!” You see a blur of black hair dart to the kitchen. You quickly pick yourself up off of the ground, helping Raf up as well. Almost as soon as your up, a bag of ice is shoved towards the two of you- Ayesha smiling sheepishly.

“Uh, sorry, this is my fault, isn’t it? You left your front door open so I thought I’d surprise the two of you but, uh- that didn’t work very well, did it?” She laughs uncomfortably.

“It’s not your fault, Ash, you’re fine.” Raf reassures her, gratefully taking the bag of ice and pressing it to his eye, “We… probably should’ve put the ladder away first.”

“Right… well, happy holidays! I, um, I have more gifts than just a black eye, by the way.” Ayesha gestures to the door, backpedaling quickly, “I was gonna wait till I left to give them to you guys but, uh, maybe I should do that… now…” And with that, she rushes out the door in a hurry once more.

“The mistletoe was a bad idea.” You mumble quietly.

“The mistletoe was sweet- is sweet.” Raf corrects, somehow still smiling, “It was the kiss from a ladder that was the bad idea.”

“Seemed romantic at the time.”

“So does a kiss from a sinking boat, or in front of an active volcano,” Raf points out, “Doesn’t mean they’re good ideas.”

“Hmmm… good ideas there…”

“… I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m just playing with you.” You nudge his side, “Besides, we don’t need any of that to make it romantic.”

“You’re right. As long as you’re here, it’s always romantic.”

You can’t help but laugh a little bit as he gives you that sappy-sweet smile all the while pressing the ice to his injured eye, “Even when I’m unceremoniously injuring you while trying to give you a kiss?”

Raf only grins wider, “Well, less so then than other times but… yes, even then.”

Jacob: It’s not a very comforting thought when you remember that the man walking through the cold winter snow coming home late from work on the holidays usually ends up being the unlikeable main character for the first half of any holiday special. But here you are, the busy businessman who didn’t mean to but somehow ended up missing holiday dinner with your loved one now trudging home through the ice and snow entirely miserable- and not just because the car finally gave up and died somewhere on the road back, not just because your pants are soaked through and your legs are chilled to the bone, but because you know from how excited Jacob had sounded before that he’d been planning something special for tonight and you had to cancel. It wasn’t even a life-or-death, hero-crashing-into-the-side-of-your-office exciting cancel either. But that the printer called and there was a mishap and you were required to spend an extra two hours tucked away in a space two sizes too small for even the shortest of your emergency-maintenance group that smelled of burning ink, paper, and rubber.

Some start to the holidays.

No doubt Jacob was already asleep. You didn’t even get a chance to call and explain, just send off a quick text saying you might not make it- and what kind of good boyfriend sends ‘might’ in that kind of context anyway?

With some slight resentment making you even cold enough to compete with the wintry chill, you throw open the doors to the apartment building, trudging up the steps as pinpricks tickle the edges of your fingers while they slowly regain feeling in the artificially-heated building. They don’t regain full mobility, however, by the time you reach the front door, which leaves you fumbling awkwardly with the keys trying to get the apartment door to open without making a complete fool of yourself.

Luckily, the door spares you the chance, instead it whips open before you even manage to put the key in the lock. Jacob stands on the other side, his eyes wide- hair wild and messy like he’d been asleep, which he probably was.

“Jacob I-” You think up a million and one ways to phrase your sudden absence on your planned day together that might deflect his anger. But you get to say exactly none of them as Jacob’s face splits into a grin, and he wraps you up in a large, warm embrace- practically tugging you into the apartment.

“You’re back! You didn’t come back and I was starting to get worried! I stayed up- er, I tried to stay up, I ended up passing out on the couch but I wanted to stay up! What happened? I got your text but it seemed so rushed I thought something had gone wrong but then you didn’t send anything else and you weren’t there so I got worried that maybe it was something serious that happened and- you smell bad you know that? You smell like… rubber- was there a fire? Are you alright? You didn’t get burned did you-”

“Woah- woah! Slow down.” Jacob backs away- just enough to look at you, his hands still gripping the sides of your snow-soaked clothes. Clothes… He’s still wearing his day-clothes. He didn’t even change, just… waited for you? “There wasn’t any fire- but the printing machine almost exploded.”

“Exploded…?”

“It’s been a ticking time bomb for years.” You shrug, “I’m… I’m sorry. That’s no excuse, I should’ve- I should’ve called or something or… I just thought you’d be asleep but I guess…”

“Oh- oh, no! It’s fine! You’re fine!” Jacob is quick to reassure you, shaking his head rapidly, “I mean- I was worried, of course, but you’re back! And… you’re really cold.”

“Uh, yeah, my car kinda… died.” You don’t really know why you laugh, to dispel the lingering feeling of guilt? To break the silence? Either way it ends in an awkward clearing of the throat. “I think I should probably get changed.”

“Ah- right!” Jacob releases you from his embrace- and part of you regrets saying that. The warmth and familiar comfort of his arms around you was… nice. Perhaps the first nice thing you’ve really had today. “You go get changed. I can- uh…” He looks down, eyebrows furrowing in thought, “Ah!” He claps his hands together, “There’s some extra blankets Iaying around here somewhere! I’ll grab them!”

“You don’t have t-” But he’s off, already tearing one from the couch and scouring around the apartment.

With the bedroom door half-closed behind you to give some semblance of privacy as you switch into a much drier, much less rubber-smelling, and much more warm pair of pajamas, you can still hear Jacob dancing around the livingroom looking for blankets. Even if you didn’t want to laugh to yourself you don’t really think you could hold it back. Old clothes discarded for now, you can see Jacob through the slim crack of the door that leaks light through- piles of cloth spilling over his arms. You’re about to go over and call out to him that he can stop when you spot something dangling over the door, nearly imperceptible in the low light. Is that…

Is that mistletoe?

You swing open the door to get a better look at it- yes, there’s no doubt about it- that’s mistletoe. Jacob put some mistletoe over the door.

“Ah, good! You changed!” Jacob skids to a halt in front of you, “I don’t think there’s any more than this- and some might not be very warm but I got all the ones I could so I think these might help some…? Uh,” He tilts his head, brows furrowing when you don’t respond. He follows your gaze, “Oh! Oh that,” Jacob laughs, he shuffles around the blankets in his arms, turning his reddening face away. “Uh, I saw it earlier today. I dunno, I just- uh- well, it’s a holiday thing, yeah? And I mean, it’s supposed to be romantic, and I’m not really the best at being romantic- or decorating- and especially not romantic decorating- but I guess I thought it might be nice? Somewhat. Is it too cheesy? It’s probably too cheesy. I can take it down. In fact, let me just put these down and I’ll take it down right now.” He marches past you.

“Jacob.”

“Hm?” Jacob turns to you, dumping the blankets on the bed.

“You didn’t kiss me.”

“I- uh- I’m sorry?”

You stifle a snicker, and point up to the mistletoe. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss me?”

He brightens visibly, “I mean, I guess so.” You can see him trying to play it off with a shrug, but his eyes spark with a kind of jovial energy. “If you want.”

You welcome the return of his warm embrace, already feeling the warmth of him chase away the chill that lingers on your skin. Jacob falls silent, he reaches towards your face, hands cradling your chin, brushing along the line of your jaw- brushing off the outside cold, “I’m… glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” The tension that had been propping up your shoulders clattering away with one long sigh. You close your eyes, pull him a little closer and-

And then the phone starts ringing.

And instead of a sweet, romantic holiday kiss you’re left breathing out an irritated, sighing-hiss of “Oh for the love of-,” You peak around Jacob’s shoulder- and it’s work. Of course the number is work.

“Do you, um, do you want to get that?” Jacob shuffles his feet, hands already slipping off of your face.

“You know what? No.” You reach up and grab his hands. “Ignore it. It’s not important.”

“Are you sure…? I don’t want you to get in trouble because-”

“I’m sure.” You shake your hand, grip loosening enough just to shift your fingers through his, “I don’t care how important it might be. It’s not as as important as this. As you.”

“Oh.” Jacob clears his throat, “Oh, well, uh… Ditto…?” Jacob laughs, and buries his head in your chest, “Oh god. I’m not good at coming up with romantic lines.”

“Mm, guess I just need to pick up the pace for both of us, then.” You nudge his head away, “And Jacob? You still haven’t kissed me yet.”

At least those angry businessmen in holiday movies always end happy. Perhaps… it’s not so bad to be one of those, after all, then.

Lucy: There are many things to expect when you come home for the holidays. Lights, sure, maybe even some candles or a tree or candycane-themed decorations or perhaps anything that glows brightly and has some sort of festive spirit about you. Normally, though, these decorations are set up on the walls or inside the house.

Normally you do not walk into your home to find Lucy struggling against a string of fake holly leaves, half pulled up along the walls and the other half somehow wrapped around the majority of her arms, neck, and torso.

“What the-?”

“Oh- you’re back!” Her head pops up towards you, only to be jerked back once more from where her long hair has gotten wrapped up in the fake leaves. “Would you, uh, mind helpin’ me out? I was trying to get these untangled but I was ‘fraid I would break them if I just tugged so I was trying to be gentle but…”

“Didn’t work according to plan?”

“You could say that.” She shrugs, then swings her arms out to the side- or about as much as she can, what with them currently occupied by the vine. “But, hey! Least I’m getting into the holiday spirit, y’know?”

You stifle a laugh as you walk over to her, examining the twisted tangles of the string, “Yeah, and from the looks of it the hard part is going to be getting you out of it… How did you even manage this?”

“Determination and perseverance, mostly.” Lucy waits patiently… Or at least what her version of patiently is, with a constantly tapping forth, occasional shifting of the feet, and overall shuffling around making it considerably more difficult for your to find the key to freeing your girlfriend from this predicament she’s gotten herself into.

It’s insane. The loops and twists and tangles remind you of the kind of rollercoaster torture device a B-movie horror film’s villain would use to try and kill off the protagonists. There’s just no way to get it undone. “I think we have to break it.”

Lucy’s expression shatters. “You sure?”

“I mean, unless you want to spend the rest of your life as a holiday lamppost… then, yeah, I think we have to cut this off of you… got any scissors?”

“In the box.” She nudges her head- perhaps the most mobile thing about her- towards a pile of holiday ornaments and decorations- most of which are covered with several layers of dust and you think that snowman is missing one of his button eyes. There’s so much here- handmade decorations, store-bought, some of them even still have the price tags attached. Somewhere in the jungle of festivities you find the scissors and return to Lucy.

You set to work freeing her from the twist of the light-vines. “What’s all this for, anyway?”

“Ah, y’know…” Lucy shrugs, “I though it’d be fun.”

“Cutting you out of fake leaves is supposed to be fun?”

She rolls her eyes, “Not this part. But… Well…” You snip the last cord, and the leaves fall away- or those that don’t are quickly tossed aside by Lucy as she steps away from the offending vine, giving it one last dirty look. “I mean, I just thought that it’d be fun to have a… normal-ish holiday. With everything else that’s constantly going on and how we’re both always bouncing from thing to thing I thought it might be… nice to take it slow?”

You can barely believe what you’re hearing. “Wait- you’re telling me that Lucille Pinchette wants to take something slow?”

Lucy laughs and runs a hand through her hair, “I mean- Maybe? I dunno, not really slow-slow in all that weird… gather round the tree and sing cult-songs kinda slow, but just…” She sighs, then Lucy steps forward and wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to her. “I wanted to spend some time, just the two of us, and the holidays seemed like a good excuse. So I guess I had to commit to the excuse.”

“You don’t need an excuse just to spend time together, Lucy.”

“I know,” She grins, “But I thought- ‘hey? Why not make it special? That’d be neat!’“

“It’s always spec-”

“Oh!” And then you’re perfectly romantic, beautiful, planned declaration was unceremoniously interrupted as Lucy releases you, sprinting towards the haphazard pile and digging through the holiday decorations with the kind of intense fervor only Lucy can manage to pull off, “Hold that thought!”

Lucy digs through the box, “Uh, Lucy?” she seems wholly intent on unearthing whatever it is she’s set out for- “Lucy…?” entirely having forgotten you in the process. Luckily, her distraction doesn’t last for two long, and soon Lucy shoots to her feet, presenting something proudly between her fingers with a loud,

“Aha!”

She marches up to you, hands folded carefully behind her back. “You know, the decorations might not have worked so well, but I think I have a good way to make this special either way…”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” You cross your arms Lucy’s confident grin growing as she strides towards you, her hands detangle, and she holds up something right above your head. You glance upwards- and between Lucy’s pinched fingertips is a small branch of fake mistletoe. “You bought… mistletoe?”

“Yeah! Make it special, right?” Lucy grins coyly, “‘Sides, now you gotta kiss me. No backing out of it.”

“Who ever said I was gonna back out of it?” You loops your arms around the back of her neck.

“Mmm, call it… insurance?” Lucy’s free arm settles back into place against the small of your back, the mistletoe slowly drifting downwards as she seems to forget that she’s holding it, leaning in towards you. You can feel her breath against your face- she smells like peppermint and other holiday store smells.

And of course to complete the moment Lucy’s phone starts ringing in her pocket. The bright and cheery tune shattering whatever romance had built up somewhere between de-tangling her and retrieving the mistletoe. Lucy groans, her eyes dancing up as she clutches the mistletoe with a closed fist. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me…” Your left with a sudden chill where her hand once was, eyeing it almost longingly as she fishes the phone from her pocket and checks the name of the rude interruptor.

“Who is it?” You don’t yet release her neck from the loop of your arms, reluctant to let ago once more.

“It’s… my boss.” Lucy sighs, “Probably a battle just ended and they need more people ASAP.”

“Oh…” Your fingers start to untangle, “Then I guess… you should go…?” Sliding off of her neck to her shoulders.

Lucy’s eyes flicker from the phone to you and back to the phone- that merry jingle playing once more on repeat, her lips pursed and her eyebrows scrunched together. She tosses the phone onto the couch, reaching up and grabbing your hands in her own, “You know what? Nah. Today’s the start of the holidays and I might not be able to make that very special but…” She smiles at you, “I guess everyday is special when it’s with you, eh?” Lucy blinks once, twice, then sighs defeatedly, “Wow, shit, that was… bad. Even for me that was really, really bad.”

“Yeah, it was.” You speak through a series of laughs, “But you know what? Had you not gone to get the mistletoe, I would’ve said the exact same thing.”

Lucy barks out one bright laugh as well, “Ha! You’re as bad as I am.”

“We make a good team for bad pickup lines.” Her phone finally stops ringing, her boss apparently giving up, “And failed attempts at romantic moments, apparently.”

“Now that,” Lucy’s grin is wide and lopsided, one eyebrow raised with it making her entire face look a little crooked, “We do.” She leans forward, pressing her cheek to yours, “And it’s absolutely perfect.”

Yolanda: You never really thought you’d start to get used to things like champagne, diamonds, and the kind of extravagant ball gowns a princess would consider a pipe-dream. But then again you never really thought you’d start dating Yolanda Waltz of all people.

Life is full of surprises.

You stand, shuffled off to the corner like with most events, with the only people who really ever approach you being those who either know why it is you’re here, at Chat Blanc’s exclusive holiday party, and think that they can somehow weasel some of Yolanda’s dirty little secrets out of her girlfriend… Or those who think you’re probably a part of the staff and want to be directed to where the bar is. Or ask you for a plate of some kind of food whose name you couldn’t even dream of pronouncing.

You had hoped to spend more time with Yolanda during the holiday but… Well, duty calls. “Oh, darling,” She’d said in that melancholic, sweet voice of hers one hand trailing down your cheek, “What I’d give to spend a quiet holiday with you… I promise- once this dreary routine is done we’ll have the rest of the weekend all to ourselves. Just you and me- no parties, no press, just us.”

‘Just us’…

Well, you hope so, at least. Because right now this is about as far from ‘Just us’ as the Earth is from the other side of the galaxy. Speaking of which, is just about how far away Yolanda seems to be from you right now.

You can still see her, it’s always hard to miss Yolanda in the crowd with the way her mere presence seems to dwarf them- and her height helps too, of course- but she’s on the other side of the room. A room filled to the brim, as per usual, with people in a myriad of expensively tailored suits and gowns. Granted, there’s less here today than normal- and you’d heard that the holiday party was even more exclusive than usual…

Can something get more exclusive than Chat Blanc to begin with? Apparently. But Nickelport’s vast and star-studded population more than makes up for the lack of invitations. Filling and perhaps even overfilling the room even with a third of the usual cat-cards sent around.

Which of course means that there’s about a hundred or two people between you and Yolanda. And the promise of ‘just us’ has taken to the sidelines along with you.

At the food is good and the alcohol is free. You turn the drink around in your hand- brightly colored as per usual, only now it’s a swirling mixture of green and red. All of the drinks around you have different holiday colors- blue and silver, red and green, black, red, and green, and many others. You hold it up to the light, peering at the small bubbles that drift between the drink-

“Enjoying the refreshments, darling?” And jump, nearly spilling the decorative liquid all over yourself. The corner of Yolanda’s lips twitch upward. But she still manages to keep that calm, serene face she wears during all of her parties. “Though I can confidently assure you that they taste much better than they look.”

“You’re here.”

Somehow, though, you’re rather blatant exclamation almost makes her break face. “Indeed I am.”

You can feel the heat rising to your face, “Right, yes, what I mean is- uh, why are you here?”

“Well, if you are referring to the party, I am the hostess. It would rather… improper for me not to show.” Her hand rises to your cheek, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “However, if you’re asking why I’m here speaking to you, well… I’m surprised you have to ask. I would think it obvious that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You almost allow yourself to melt into her gentle touch- and boy do you wish you could. But the piercing glares of Yolanda’s scorned guests keep your nerves buzzing too much for that to happen. “Yeah, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s where you should be.” You jerk your head away from her hand, nodding towards the whispering mass. Yolanda doesn’t bat an eye.

“I beg to differ.” Her fingers fall to your wrist, slipping her hand into yours she leans forward until her breath brushes against your ear- and in a low whisper, “Come with me.”

“But the-”

“They can wait.” You feel her smile stretch against your cheek, “I’d rather spend my time with someone more important.”

“Don’t tell them that,” You laugh, “I mean, geez, say that anyone is more important than them and half the egos here will probably implode.”

“If that what it takes to steal a moment with you then I would gladly announce it to the world.” Yolanda tugs on your wrist, already guiding you towards the door, “Now, come with me.”

The crowd parts as she walks. Yolanda doesn’t even have to extend an arm or speak up- it’s as if they sense some aura radiating off of her, pushing them carefully aside and leaving a wave of eyes trailing against your back. Some curious, some envious, and a few with almost angry stares. But none dare to step into her path as she guides you towards the door and into a dark hall.

You hear the door close behind you and then he world is shrouded in dark, “Yolanda?”

You’re answered by the flick of a switch, and suddenly the room is alight with starlight. No- not starlight, just a series of tiny light bulbs imbedded into the ceiling, the walls, there are even a few lighting up the floor beneath you- surrounding you in a pale, romantic glow that makes it feel as if you’re standing in the center of a wintry night sky, surrounded by a pearl necklace of stars. And there she is. Next to you, her hand resting on your hip, enthralled not by the glittering galaxy around you but by the surprise and delight on your face.

“How did- Why did- What-” Your mouth fails to make proper sentences… Granted, your brain is struggling with making them up right now as well.

“I promised you that you’d have me all to yourself after all is said and done,” Yolanda takes your hands, stepping in front you with concern warping her expression, “I must ask you to wait a little bit longer for me to truly keep up that promise but…” She steeles herself, chin raised defiantly, “I am still a woman of my word, and so I suppose I had… Well, I wanted to do something to show you that I had not forgotten our promise.”

“Well, this is one hell of a something.” You couldn’t stop yourself from grinning if you tried, “Yolanda this is- I don’t- I don’t even know how to say how amazing this is! I could kiss you for this.”

“I’d be honored… However there is one missing piece before you do that.” Yolanda gives your hands a squeeze, and then slips away quietly. She steps towards the door, producing something hidden by her hands that she hangs above the door frame. You trail after her quietly, trying to peak past Yolanda’s shoulders to see what it is she’s doing. But a coy smile and quiet ‘Not yet’ brush you back until she’s finished with… whatever it is she’s doing. Yolanda steps away moments later and there, dangling among these faux-stars is…

“Mistletoe?” The waxy green leaves catch and reflect the glittering light, and the tiny white berries almost blend in among its dazzling brethren.

“As grand as all this is I figured some… festive spirit might also be appreciated.” She takes your hands once more, “And as you know, I’m quite the stickler for tradition.”

“Hey, if this is tradition then I’m not about to complain.” Yolanda pulls you forward, her face comes closer to yours, your eyes flutter close until even the stars fade and you’re just left with-

The sound of a door slamming open and a surprised, meek squeak of, “Miss Wa-ah, oh, uh, um….”

You hear Yolanda sigh- her breath brushing against your cheek, the sweet smell of apple and lime drifting around you- so close, but so far. “Yes? What is it?” Yolanda leans back as your eyes reluctantly open. A shy and nervous waiter in the Chat Blanc uniform shuffles around in the doorway- the bright orange light of the ballroom washing away a few of the stars.

“Oh, well, I-I um,” They swallow nervously, “People were, uh, asking for you, s-so I came to see if if- uh… You were available, but…” Their eyes flicker over to you. “I can, uh, tell others that you’re otherwise… oc-occupied.”

“No, no. I shouldn’t be gone for too long.” Yolanda’s fingers slip away, she brushes out her dress and squares her shoulders, “Tell them I’ll be right there.”

“Yes ma’am!” The waiter seems all too eager to scurry away.

Yolanda turns to you once more, her calm façade breaking momentarily into a conflicted mix of regret and disappointment. “Soon, it will be just us, my darling.”

“Just us.”You repeat.

“Just us.” She presses a hand to your cheek, “Wait for me, and I will see you soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You smile. “Just don’t be too long.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” She presses a kiss to your cheek, and then Yolanda slips away- casting you one last longing glance before the door closes and you’re left among the stars.

Eileen: You woke up to the smell of countless sweet goods floating through the room. Apples and chocolate danced around the ceiling while raspberry smells and cinnamon scents quietly wandered below. Delicately dancing among all these was a blueberry perfume and all were, of course, warm and inviting. So warm and inviting, in fact, that you could already feel your eyelids closing, those sweet odors lulling you back into a dream filled of cream puffs and pies. But the sunlight was already poking its thin yellow tendrils through the gap in the curtains, filling the room with a pale winter light. More than that you know that if the house smells like this then it must mean that Eileen’s been up for quite a while.

So you drag your feet from the bed and onto the soft carpet that squishes down beneath you. Slipping on a jacket but forgoing the clothes that would mean you’d really have to wake up you follow the trail of delicious smells down out the room, down the hall, and to the kitchen.

Eileen buzzes about, fluttering from stove-top to oven to counter with her hands shoved into mitts two sizes too big. She places one still-steaming pie next to another, which lies next to a tray of brownies, which is next to a platter of cookies which is… How much did she make? And how long has she been up?

“You know, I don’t think the apocalypse is starting anytime soon- isn’t it a little early to start stockpiling food?” You jest but you’re met with no reaction. In fact, Eileen seems not to hear you at all. Already going at a chocolate-chip laced batter with a whisk and the kind of ferocity that you can normally only find in the destructive aftermath of hero-villain battles on the street. “Eileen?”

You walk around to her side, but she still doesn’t see you- her green eyes zeroed in intently on the batter in her hands. In fact, there’s a bit of a purple bruise from lack-of-sleep underneath them, her red hair seems frayed and messy, with fly-away strands floating about her face- she looks paler than usual, too, the few freckles on her cheeks seem more pronounced now then before. “Eileen, are you alright?” You reach out- but when your fingers brush her arm she screams in surprise, jumping back and letting bowl and batter clatter to the floor, chocolate-chip dough scattering over the tile.

“It’s you!” She squeaks out, then grows red with embarrassment and clears her throat, “Sorry- I-I mean, it’s you. You… you scared me.” One hand presses to the space above her heart to emphasize this.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… but I called out.”

“You-you did?”

“Several times.”

“Oh… dear…” Eileen sighs, and looks forlornly at the batter on the floor. Her lower lip quivers as gloved hands squeeze together, the fabric warping and stretching over her knuckles. “I’m sorry- I guess I got so lost that I… I’m sorry.”

You step around the mess, gingerly resting your hand on her shoulder- Eileen’s head snaps up to you, but she doesn’t jump away this time. “Eileen, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Ah… It’s nothing, really.” She carefully, slowly, removes the gloves from her hands, smoothing down her shirt and fidgeting with her hair, tucking it behind her ear and then twisting it undone between her fingers. “I just- Well- I got to thinking about how this is our first holiday together- really together, I mean. And I- well, I was trying to think of some way to celebrate it and I couldn’t really think of anything so then I thought I’d bake you something special but then it wasn’t special enough so I had to try again, and again, and again, and…” She waves a hand towards the sweet-feast slowly piling up on the counter, “You can see how well that worked out.”

“You made all this… for me?”

She laughs, a nervous, tittering laugh, “I suppose it sounds rather silly when said aloud, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, Eileen.” You cup her face in your hands, and even with just that much she already seems so much more relaxed- leaning into your touch, a soft smile gracing her bright face. “You really didn’t have to do all of this- any of it really.”

“I know, I know… but… I wanted to.” She sets the gloves aside, gently removing your hands from her face, “You are… dearly important to me- and indescribably special. I just wanted to show you how much… but I guess I got a bit nervous that it couldn’t quite come up to my expectations.” She squeezes your hands, shrugging to herself, “But I should have expected that, really. Nothing I could make would ever really show just how much you mean to me- not really.”

“And nothing could ever be as sweet as you are.”

“You… You were waiting to use that line, weren’t you?”

You shrug with a grin, “Eh, maybe. Maybe not. We’ll never know.” Your eyes trail down the line of pies and cakes and cookies. Breathing in the mix of warm, familiar sugary scents. Your eyes inadvertently flutter closed, and when they open you glance at the ceiling- “Huh? When did that get there?”

“What is- oh.” Eileen laughs once more, “I got tired from baking, once, and ended up doing a little decorating, just some small things, like lights and wreaths and candles and-”

“Eileen, do you know what that is?” She follows your gaze upwards, eyebrows crinkling in confusion as her lower lip juts out in a pout.

“Hmm… no?”

“It’s mistletoe.”

Eileen’s head tilts to the side, mouth curving over the word slowly, “Mistle…toe…” Then a bright red flush takes over her cheeks as she tears her hands from yours, covering her mouth with a tiny, “Oh!”

“Hm? So you didn’t plan to get me under the mistletoe today?” You feign a wounded look, one hand over your chest as you sniff dramatically, “And here I thought you wanted to kiss me.”

“Shush, you.” Eileen lightly taps you on the arm. “So dramatic. I must have put that up there while decorating and not noticed but… I suppose now that it’s there we should kiss.”

“There’s simply no escaping it.” You agree, already moving your hands back to the sides of her face, pulling Eileen closer as her eyes close and you bend towards her. Surrounded by the sweet smells of the pies and the burning smell coming from the oven-

Both you and Eileen seem to realize that burning smell at the same time, she gasps and quickly tugs herself away, already slipping the gloves back on and whipping open the oven- which pours out black smoke. You back away, one hand to your nose, coughing, as Eileen pulls out a smoldering corpse of a cake, dropping it into the sink with a plunk and turning on the water faucet. You hurry to a window, throwing it open and watching the smoke trail out and dance up into the sky. You stick your head out of the window, taking a big gulp of air not-tainted by the smell of failed cake, and when you turn back around Eileen’s turned off the water, and the cake has become little more than a soggy, blackened mess.

“Well, now, that didn’t really work as planned.” You loop an arm around her shoulders, which bounce lightly as she laughs.

“Oh, it’s no matter.” Eileen grins up at you, “I think we’ve got enough cakes for now, anyway.”

Informant: Sometimes it’s nice to have a quiet holiday. The day passes by lazily- but not in ‘dragging its feet’ kind of slow, instead, it’s much of a sunny-day lethargy, like lounging on the beach with the sun’s slow slither across the sky as your only telltale sign of time. Granted, it was neither sunny nor were you at the beach. The snow had piled up outside trapping you within the house, and the warmth came not from the hot sand and sky but instead from a warm fire’s glow tickling your feet, the cup of hot chocolate clutched between your fingers, and the slow and steady rise of the Informant’s chest as you cuddle up against him in front of the fireplace.

You’d had plans to go out today, do something nice and holiday-themed… but the snow put a quick and sure stop to that. It wasn’t safe to drive and there was no way in hell either of you were about to go trudging through hip-deep snow drifts with flurries attacking your face when you had a perfectly serviceable cocoa and fire here. It also gave you the excuse to snuggle up with the Informant, his arm draped around your side and a blanket covering the both of you as you marathon holiday movies, occasionally breaking up the ‘joy and peace to all’ with your own odd observations about how surreal some of those movies can get. Or creepy. Some are very, very creepy. You’re not sure they meant to be but they are.

The Informant’s hand runs idle circles over your shoulder, tracing unseen lines. You feel your eyes growing heavy, your yawn brings tears to your eyes and blurs the movie in front of you into a mess of green, white, and blue colors.

“Hey,” The Informant’s fingers stop running lines around your shoulder, squeezing it lightly instead, “How about we turn this off and turn in early? Sound good?”

“Mm, but it’s not late enough for sleep yet.” You shake your head, “I guess the chocolate’s just getting to me, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh yeah?” The Informant’s lips quirk upwards in a crooked smile, “Then how come you’re about to spill it all over yourself and the couch?”

“What?” You look down, and sure enough your hands hand been drifting to the side, with the hot chocolate dangerously lapping the edge of the cup. You right it quickly, leaning forward and placing it on the much safer coffee table instead of in your apparently unstable hands. “Okay… point. But it’s still too nice here to leave.” You flop back against the Informant.

“You just don’t wanna move.”

“Maybe,” Drawing out the letters in one long drawl, you pull the blanket around the two of you tighter.

“Are you gonna make me carry you back there?”

“Maybe.” You drawl once more, grinning up at him, “I mean, I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

“True, that’d be far too easy.” The Informant mulls, “Ah, I’ve got a better idea.”

“Now I’m scared.” And apparently rightly so, as the Informant wiggles his fingers threateningly, and dangerously close to your neck, you gasp. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Hey, last time you were the who tried to get me in a tickle fight… And we all know how that ended up, don’t we?” Your face goes red, and part of you berates yourself for it, but the memory flares up in the back of your mind.

“Yes, well, still.” Nice rebuttal, there.

The Informant chuckles, “Alright, Alright. No tickle fight… for now. Well, I guess that leaves me with just one option, then.” And suddenly his hands scoot underneath you and you’re hoisted high into the air. Instinctively you wrap your arms around his neck, yelping with surprise, but the Informant cradles you carefully- never letting you fall. He laughs despite your frown at him.

“At least warn me next time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The Informant carries you towards the bedroom, with your head pressed into the crook of his neck- he still smells like hot cocoa.

“Oh, wait.” You press a hand to his chest as the two of you pass under the doorframe.

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You point above his head, the Informant looks up and smiles.

“Right… the mistletoe.” He shakes his head, “I’d ask why you put that right there… but knowing you, I’d say that you planned for this exact situation.”

“Well I didn’t account for the snowstorm in my master plan,” You tap your chin thoughtfully, “But I’ve learned to accommodate sudden changes, and of course not much could stop my grand scheme.”

“Your grand scheme to get me to kiss you under the mistletoe?”

“It’s truly a very nefarious plan.” You twist your hands through the Informant’s hair.

“You’re practically a supervillain.” He holds you up a little closer.

“Do you really think so?” Your voice drops into a whisper.

“Absolutely dastardly.” He leans in closer.

A knock on the door resounds through the quiet of the apartment, rising over even the din of the TV’s quiet prattling. The Informant sighs, and you can’t help but feel that string of disappointment in your heart as well. Still, he takes it in good humor, smiling as he presses his forehead to yours, gently setting your feet back down on the ground, “Well, it looks like your plan’s been foiled either way.”

“Oh, no,” You shrug with a smile, “This is just a minor setback. I’m sure that my plan will come to fruition eventually.”

“Is that so?” Another knock at the door, The Informant squeezes your hand, already slipping away, “Then I look forward to seeing when that day comes.”

Ricky:  You would’ve thought that, somehow, the holidays might make Ricky a little less… Well, a little less Ricky. Maybe he’d even smile at the happy-looking decor or the warm feeling of companionship that always comes with the holiday spirit or… or… or something. But no. No Ricky is still there, frowning over his papers from work, even though he technically has the day off, still a grouch as always.

Now that won’t do at all.

It’s the holidays! He doesn’t want to spend it doing something big and extravagant? Fine. But there’s no way in hell you’re going to let him just sit there and work through the holidays with that sour look on his face. You need to do something, anything to remedy this disastrous situation.

So you went out shopping. You may have shopped a bit too much. Because now you’re trying to stealthily maneuver around Ricky’s home-office by dragging too-heavy boxes around and stringing up holiday lights and decorations- you’ve dropped more than one thing, and you can tell by the curious, cautious glances that break up Ricky’s workaholic trance that he’s growing suspicious of everything you’re doing around the flat.

Still, somehow you manage to place the snowglobe on the table without shattering it and plug in the lights without the power going out, and Ricky is none the wiser. Still, the last touch is going to be the trickiest, it involves hanging something just above his door without Ricky catching wind of the surprise. You’ve left the space just outside carefully devoid of any holiday spirit to keep him in the dark up until now, and if you’re caught here then the entire surprise will be ruined. So you grab a step-stool, place it carefully outside the door, setting it down so very gently so that it doesn’t make a peep. You’re practically holding your breath as you step up on it, the last touch clenched in one hand as you lean over to-

“What are you doing?”

“Ricky!” You gasp, and in your shock the decoration slips from your hand, falling to the floor. You stumble off of the stool, arms waving out beside you until you catch yourself awkwardly on the wall, hands pressed against it with feet skewed unnaturally to prevent yourself from falling. “You, uh… Hi.”

Ricky’s eyebrows rise upward, but he doesn’t look all that surprised at your sudden display of a lack of coordination, just confused… Well, confused, that is, until he glances around the room, taking in the newly decorated walls adorned with multicolored lights, the tiny snow globes and candles and nutcrackers lining every flat surface you could find and the little paper snowflakes and stars strung up around the ceiling.

“Su-… Surprise?” You recover from your half-fall, smiling hopefully, “Uh… Too much?”

“Just a bit.” Ricky admits, “What did you do- buy out the whole department store?”

“They had some great sales.” You give a strained laugh, Ricky still says nothing. Your shoulders slump- there’s still no holiday joy or even a mere spark of happiness on his face, “Okay, yeah, it’s too much. I just-… You didn’t seem happy!”

“You did all this because I didn’t… seem happy?”

“Yes!” The disappointment begins to bubble up and boil into frustration, “I mean, come on, Ricky! It’s the holidays! And all you’ve done is sit in that office and work! And I get it, you’re a grouch who can’t find any joy in any of this stupid, silly stuff, but really? You won’t even come out of there and spend the holiday- I dunno, not working? This is supposed to be a time that you spend with the people you love and care about and I had hoped that maybe, just maybe we could spend a little time together but no- you’ve been locked up all day and I guess I just… I dunno, I thought maybe if a quiet holiday wasn’t going to work I had to be loud enough to actually get your attention.”

Ricky falls silent, he bends down and picks up the fallen decoration you failed to get up- “Is this…?”

“Mistletoe.” You sigh, “It was a stupid idea but I thought- I dunno, I thought that if I could get you outside I’d have this whole ‘Ta-dah! Look at everything here. Isn’t this great?’ and that the best way to start off the holidays would be with a kiss or something- Look, it’s cheesy. And it was a bad idea, obviously.”

Ricky presses his lips together in contemplation. Then, wordlessly, he steps over to the stepstool- “Ricky?”- righting it as he stands up and hangs the mistletoe above the door. “What are you-?” Ricky steps back down and places his finger to your lips.

“I’m sorry.” He starts, “You said you wanted this to be a grand surprise, right? I’m not the best actor, but…” Ricky steps back into his office, he leans back against the desk, and gestures outward with his hands, “Go ahead.”

“Oh.” You feel a grin spreading over your face, you clear your throat and knock on the side of the door, “Hey, Ricky?”

“Hm?” You can already see him fighting off a smirk- he really is a terrible actor when it comes to this.

“Come outside, I have something to show you.”

“Well, I suppose I could spare a moment.” Ricky pushes himself off of the desk. He feigns a look of surprise at the door- perhaps a bit too much surprise if you’re being critical. So you match it, and show a bit too much enthusiasm as you eagerly throw your arms out towards the gaudy decorations.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s… absolutely garrish,” Ricky smirks at you, “But you put them up, and I suppose that makes them amazing, too.”

“Well, now, you could’ve been a bit nicer…” You shrug, “But I’ll take it.”

“You’re forgetting something.” Ricky nods to the mistletoe.

“And who’s to say I wasn’t just waiting for you?” You wind your arms around his neck.

“Happy holidays,” Ricky mumbles, pulling you close. He leans towards you then…

Then his office phone begins to ring. And you can feel Ricky grip the back of your shirt as an irritable sigh makes it way out from his lips. “I step away for one minute and-”

You laugh to hide the disappointment. “It’s fine. I get it. You’re ‘off work�� but you’re never really off work, right?”

Ricky shakes his head, he doesn’t even glance towards the phone, just cups your face in his hands. “No. It doesn’t matter. Not today.”

“But-”

“But nothing.” Ricky smirks, “You said it yourself, didn’t you? It’s the holidays. No work- not for today. Today is about you- today is for us.”

V: You would say that V really went all out for the holidays but that would imply that they don’t normally go all out for… Everything. V’s making scrambled eggs? V’s going all out. V’s throwing a party? V’s going all out. V’s celebrating the holidays? V’s going all out. And by all out you mean that you woke up nearly suffocating under a pile of presents wrapped in thousands of different brightly colored patterns each of which hurt your eyes in a new and interesting way. Once you manage to stumble out of the swamp of wrapping paper and bows you find yourself lost in a jungle of holiday decorations- a candy-cane forest maze with the way you think you’re supposed to take lighted by a series of dimly glowing candles.

“V?” You call out but to no response. Shrugging away any sane wonderings of how they could have set this all up without you having heard or just how long this took you follow the path of candles towards the living room.

And there’s the culprit themself, “Ah! Hello, love!” V stands surrounded by even more candles, a burning match in their hand as they light another- all of them are scented, you realize, as the almost overpowering stench of everything holiday- from pine to mint- overwhelms your senses. “So glad you’re awake- what do you think?”

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Now, now, that’s no way to get into the holiday mood.” V saunters over to you, laying a hand against your back, “You’ll go numb to the feeling soon, darling, and then you’ll simply be left with that pleasant holiday smell.”

“V… why did you raid a candle store, again?”

“Can I not simply wish to wash you with the greatest holiday experience ever known to humankind?” V gasps innocently, “Oh, darling, I simply wished for you to have the grandest holiday season possible, so of course I couldn’t decide which was more fitting- dawn pine or candy-cane lane? Of course both have their own pros and cons but it was simply too difficult a decision so, of course, I remembered that the most integral part of any relationship is compromise- and therefore I bought both.”

“This is a fire hazard.” You glance around the room, “This is… absolutely a fire hazard.”

“Ah but that just makes it all the better!” V wraps you up in their arms, “Oh, did you open your gifts? I was so hoping you’d enjoy them. Of course if you don’t then I’ll gladly return what you don’t wish to have- that way I can simply find you something even better!”

You flash back to your previous struggling to emerge from that sea of presents, “I- uh- yeah, they’re great. Hey, V? You really… didn’t have to do all this. I would’ve been fine with a small holiday.”

“A small holiday?”

You push yourself away from them, “Yes. I was kind of hoping for it, actually, just you and me together. Doing something… not quite so crazy?”

“Ah…” V’s face drops in disappointment, but they recover quickly, “Well, then, no matter! I’m sure there’s some lovely restaurants we could peruse if you’d so wish, and besides- the greatest gift I could possibly bestow upon you is my own company so I suppose that will have to do for now.”

You snicker, and plant a kiss on their cheek, “I’d like that.”

“Well, then we simply must find the best possible restaurant- ah! But before we go, there’s one last surprise I have for you, dear.” V leans in close to your ear, and with a quiet, happy hum, tells you, “Look up.”

Cautiously, with the usual amount of dread that comes when V tells you they have a surprise, you glance upwards- “That’s… a lot of mistletoe.” The entire ceiling is covered with a layer of mistletoe- it almost looks like the plant is growing out of the ceiling itself. “This is even more of a fire hazard than I thought.”

“Well, now, I wanted to be sure that no matter where you went you’d be bound to kiss me.” V places a hand to their chest, that sly smile creeping across their face, “I suppose as it is now you’ll just have to keep kissing me for the time being. Not that that’s an unpleasant situation, I’m sure.”

“I know I’ve said it before but you really are insane, you know that, V?”

“I’ve something of a reputation to keep up at this point now, don’t I?” V pulls you close, their hand pressing against the small of your back, keeping you to them, “Now then, my love, would you perchance bestow upon me the honor of your kiss?”

“Well when you put it like that…” You lean forward- even V themself smells like the candles- peppermint and pine.

The doorbell rings, and sufficiently shatters the atmosphere. Both you and V pull back with a sour look at this interruption… but… Who is it? “Were we… expecting anyone?”

V frowns in thought, then they grin widely, “No but… ah! I think I’ve a keen idea of who it is.” They grab your shoulders, the bitterness washed from their face with a new grin of excitement, “Tell me, love, have you ever met my siblings?”

[blessed-but-distressed]

This is a thing that I wrote a long time ago.

It isn’t fanfiction. It’s just fiction. 

I will be posting here until I think of what to do with it.

FERNWEH

 When Becca decides to shake off those shackles and get the hell outta Dodge, she doesn’t have many regrets. She won’t miss those late nights folding baby clothes at her local All Baby Needs SuperStore. She won’t miss her distant parents or her uninspiring classes for her useless degree. The only person she will miss is Jack.

Jack is stuck in the post-university, pre-real job wasteland of delayed adolescence. He doesn’t know if he is a socialist, or an anarchist, or just reads too many books. He stacks vegetables, he haunts libraries and he chases girls. But now his best friend is leaving town, and he doesn’t know if he can handle being left behind.

A story about growing up, leaving home, staying behind, sad bastard music and the people who make everything bearable.

Chapter One: 

Becca

Truthfully, I can handle all of it. The cloying stench of mouldy socks and clove cigarettes. The scratchy, standard-issue woollen blanket that wasn’t quite enough to wade off the night-time chill. The oddly masculine snoring that would make any trucker proud. The clanking of pipes in the wall beside my bed that had me sat bolt upright on my first night, half convinced the ghost of Jacob Marley was coming for me, dragging the chains he’d forged in life. All of this didn’t bother me. Not really. But the weeping. I couldn’t handle the fucking weeping.

I’d been sharing a room in Berlin’s cheapest youth hostel for a week with Ilonka, from Hungary. Ilonka the weeper. And we aren’t talking about girlish sobs here, with intermittent hiccups. Oh no. Not Ilonka. Beautiful, heartbroken, weeping Ilonka. She didn’t do anything by half measures.

She’d told me her life story on the first night, over a Midori and lemonade in the bar downstairs. I was quickly coming to the realisation that this was how it was done. Nothing in Backpacker World got done without a bit of Dutch courage.

Ilonka’s story was that she’d come to Berlin to intern at one of those ridiculously trendy, ridiculously contemporary art galleries in Kreuzberg. Which made sense. With her extensive collection of very cute multi-coloured berets, long, lean legs encased habitually in skinny jeans, and her Franka Potente in Run Lola Run hair, she certainly looked the part. She made me feel inadequate every time she entered a room, and I was convinced that was at least half of what contemporary art was all about.

Which is why it was so disconcerting when halfway through her third Midori and lemonade, big fat tears began to slip down her perfect, Eastern European face, and into her drink, which she continued to sip through her straw, unperturbed. Then, without much warning, she keeled forward, and a high-pitched noise of distress began to rise from the back of her throat, not unlike that of an ambulance leaving the scene of an accident. The barman, cute and Irish though he may have been, gave us that ‘You’d better clear the fuck out’ look perfected by cute Irish bartenders the world over, and I bundled her upstairs before he summoned over the bouncer, who was significantly more intimidating.

Once I’d gotten her settled on her twin bed, she pulled herself together enough to relate to me the rest of the story. On her third week into her internship, she’d rung up her boyfriend, Kolos, back home in Budapest, and her best friend had answered the phone. Turns out they’d been screwing around behind her back for the last six months, and they had used Ilonka’s absence to move in together. Which you have to give points for, if only for the sheer brazen cowardice of it all. Were they going to keep up the charade until it came time to ask her to be the Maid of Honour at their wedding?

Ilonka was a wreck. She’d keep it together all day, every day at work, but as soon as she got back into the room she would just lie on her bed, crying inconsolably for hours, until she eventually, mercifully, fell asleep. If she wasn’t weeping, she was sitting on the window sill, where she had pried the window open, and was smoking her favourite clove cigarettes in flagrant disregard of our dorm’s no smoking policy, and my (fabricated) assertions that I was an asthmatic. She’d hold her cigarette in one hand and her mobile phone in the other, and yell obscenities in Hungarian to whoever was on the other end, in between puffs. I don’t speak a lick of Hungarian, but you can always tell an obscenity, no matter the language. It’s about the force behind the delivery. The venom behind the words.

The hostel had been chosen for its location, just off the Ku'damm, not for its internal décor or sterling customer service record. Which is just as well, because I’d been in cancer wards with more cheer; the grey-speckled institutional style walls hinting at the building’s previous life as an insane asylum perhaps, or at the very least a reform school. My polite request to move to a different room had been met with a coolly raised eyebrow, and an unconvincing promise that they’d see what they could do.

It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for my first foray into the world of international travel. But it certainly made for interesting anecdotes for my emails sent back home.

I’d say things were going much better for me outside of the hostel, but that was a matter of some debate.

A few months back, embittered by my slow slide from promising Journalism student to person-who-straightens-cans-of-baby-food-in-a-budget-department-store-for-a-living, I’d stayed up until four in the morning one night, researching methods of escaping the monotonous retail hell that my life had become.

My unlikely salvation was with a company that would pay for me to fly to Germany to work as an Au Pair for a year. They’d even put me up in Berlin for a month, so I could brush up on the language, before they dispatched me to the family they would pair me with. All of those weekend evenings spent wrangling my neighbour’s kids to bed when I was sixteen had suddenly come in handy, and I had signed on the dotted line.

Of course, when I say “brush up on the language”, I mean learn from scratch. Of course. German had never been an elective at high school. I’d learnt Italian, although that data had almost been completely rewritten in my mind, replaced with an intricate knowledge of song lyrics by a particular favourite band of mine, who specialised in what my friend Jack liked to call “Sad Bastard Music.”

The total sum of my German language proficiency before my departure had been restricted to numbers one through ten, hello, good bye, thank you, and handful of random phrases one picks up after a lifetime of watching World War Two dramas, none of which were suitable for polite company. My knowledge of German culture was mostly restricted to a general appreciation for Daniel Brühl’s face, and a vague recollection of having read Faust when I was fourteen.

It was not until I took a seat on the first day of classes, that I realised what a grave mistake I had made. There was no way I would be able to wrangle children, even relatively small, uncomplicated ones, in four weeks time, with absolutely zero grasp on the language. It was impossible. Unfathomable.

Our teacher was a jovial fellow called Hans-Peter. He had the kind of white bushy moustache and knitted jumpers which made him look rather like a benevolent tug-boat captain, and kind eyes that encouraged students to take risks where they might otherwise have kept silent. He was a good teacher. I could tell. But there was no way in hell he was going to make me semi-fluent within a month.

Every classroom in the language school was named after a particular river in Germany. Our classroom, Donau, which I later discovered was the German word for the Danube, was right at the top of three dizzyingly uneven flights of stairs, in a converted attic where every inch of wall space was dedicated to laminated charts depicting a different German verb, and its various forms. It also had a broken radiator, which Hans-Peter would kick good-naturedly every morning when it failed to break the chill, before instructing us to keep our gloves on.

That’s the first useful German phrase I learn.

“Handschuhe auf!“ Gloves on.

The second:

“Jacken auf!“ Jackets on.

I’d always had a natural talent for scholastic endeavours. Which is to say, I’d really crashed and burned at university when I’d gotten through twelve years of schooling without really trying too hard, to find I actually had no idea how to study. But I’d always managed to scrape by on natural ability. I had no natural ability when it came to German. I was a babe in the woods. And I definitely needed to study.

Being in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language is a little like being a newborn lamb. You stumble a lot, and you’re vulnerable as hell, but everyone finds you pretty damn adorable anyway, for the most part. But for someone who has always been really good at things, it is the ultimate exercise in humility. Suddenly, you’re unable to do even the most simplest of things. Order a coffee. Ask for directions. Make an effusive apology to the angry looking guy you bump into on the train.

It had taken me five whole days to work up the necessary courage to approach even a McDonalds counter. I practiced the order in my head, as I waited in line.

“Ein Happy Meal, bitte.” One Happy Meal, please.

I didn’t think even I could fuck that up. I tried to anticipate what questions they would ask me, in which order. Would I like a toy? Would I like ketchup?

When they asked me if I wanted mayo or ketchup on my fries, the unexpected option made me answer in the affirmative, without specifying which I preferred, pissing off the harried-looking girl behind the counter in the process. I could feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I backed away from the counter, waving my hands and butchering an apology in my pidgin German.

I never went back to that McDonalds.

Like a diamond in the rough, I found a T-Mobile payphone on my way back to the hostel and I fed about ten euro in change into the machine until it finally connected me to Jack’s mobile. It rang out, and went to voicemail, and instead of leaving a message, I hung up the receiver, and burst into angry, embarrassed tears. I didn’t get any change back, either.

Wiping my face clean with the sleeve of my coat, I hurried back to the hostel, before I could make an idiot of myself in some new way. Still hungry, I raided the vending machine in the lobby, and sat on my bed eating out-of-date chips until Ilonka had returned. She took one look at my tear-stained face and unsatisfying dinner and bundled me into my coat and took me out to an Irish Pub around the corner for a pint of Guinness and something called a Blarney Burger.

“It will not always be so,” she reminds me sagely, as she steals a chip from my plate. And for a little while there, Ilonka is my hero. When I grow up I want to be just like her. We sing Cranberries songs together, and make the acquaintance of some chipper blokes from County Clare who are, of course, enamoured with Ilonka’s ethereal Eastern European beauty, and keep us plied with enough black stuff that I quite forget about the dizzying regret that has been eating me away inside for days.

But later that night, the weeping starts again, and it chips away, slowly but steadily, at my newfound regard for her. I get up for class early the next morning, head still throbbing from the previous night’s excesses, and leave her a note on her bedside table.

“It will not always be so.”

[wwonder-landd]

Mon Amour [Lafayette]

EEK I LOVE WRITING HAMILTON IMAGINES OR CAST IMAGINES-- I LOVE IT.

Request: @crazypup11: “I'm not sure what kind of requests you take but maybe a Hamilton one where Alex finds out that his sister and one of his best friends (Lafayette or Hercules preferably) are secretly dating? And the only reason he found out is because he walked into her room to find them sorta maybe making out. This would be in a modern AU.”

Warnings: alex+laurens being gay dat’s it but like not even a lot, just jokes lOl

Pairing: Lafayette and Reader

Preview: The reader tells Eliza all about her feelings for Laf. These feelings that she has been hiding all along. Some of which the guys overhear.

Masterlist

“Little sis! I’m going out with the boys soon! Stay inside!” You heard your older brother Alexander yell. 

“I’m literally two minutes younger Alex, give it a rest.” “Never!”

The next thing you know, the doorbell had rung and you heard the door open and the sound of feet shuffling. Allowing a few more seconds to pass before finally heading downstairs. As you walked down the stairs you headed to the coffee maker, knowing you’d need it when Alex got back and planned to write some federal document that he doesn’t want you to know anything of.

No worries of Alex not telling you, John would keep you updated on what Alex was writing. You knew of John’s affection towards your brother and when you were alone with the two of them you’d constantly joke of the sexual tension between the two. Although, Alex didn’t know, Lafayette was quite fond of you, and you him. Whenever John or Hercules made jokes about the two of you, Alex would cover his ears and threaten to kick them out of the house.

Here you were, in your kitchen looking for a K-Cup to put in your coffee maker. You hadn’t noticed Lafayette come in. 

“Can I have a cup, mon amour?” His voice startled you. 

“Oh, hey Laf. Sure you can.” You say, wanting with everything in you, to forget he called you ‘his love.’

“So Laf-” You tried, before getting cut off.

“Ooooh are the lovebirds in here being up to no good?” 

John Laurens. The cause of your fury.

“We, friends, are making coffee.” You said with much emphasis on ‘friends.’ 

“At 8 o’clock at night?” John says raising his eyebrows in a quizzical manner.

“Yes John, because I know I’ll have to take care of Alex when you all get him wasted tonight! Now would you like a cup or not?” 

“Someone’s feisty!” 

“John!”

“John are you agitating my sister?” Alex says walking in the kitchen. 

“Oh please Alex, we all know that Lafayette will please her soon enough!” John says with a smirk on his face, as he glances between you and Lafayette.

“I’m going to go now.” Laf says with a hint of red on his cheeks.

“Have fun getting wasted boys, I’ll be upstairs.” 

“Writing blog posts about how dreamy Laf is I’m sure.” Laurens adds. 

“Herc have I told you lately that you’re my favorite.” You say, as you stop in the living room and look at him sitting on your couch, before cutting your eyes to John. “Goodnight and be safe you guys.” 

“You too Y/N, see you after.” Laf said, 

“Bye Lafayette, see ya later.”

Hours online and you’ve only written four paragraphs of your paper. Granted it’s not due for three weeks, but you, like your brother, always wanted a head start. 

It was about climate change and how that’s affecting people and wildlife all around the world. How humans have created a demise for themselves and the wildlife and forests around them. Jotting down a few more facts and opinions on the matter, you closed your laptop. Then picking up your phone to call Eliza.

Eliza had been your closest friend, aside from any of the boys. 

“Hello Y/N! Good to hear of you again! How’re those uncles and cousins of yours?” 

You had recently gone to Pennsylvania to visit some family members and had intended to tell Eliza all about it. Had you not gotten so caught up with your writing.

“Well come on over and you can spend the night! The boys are ‘out on the town’ as Alex says.” 

“Sounds good I’ll be there in an hour or so.” She says as you hear her shuffling around to get her things to stay the night.

“Eliza! Oh it’s so good to see you again! Not near all my younger and immature cousins is such a relief.” 

“I bet! So tell me, how’s the love life?”

“That always the first thing you want to know!” You say while getting up and preparing some cocoa and grabbing a blanket.

What you didn’t know, was the boys were back, not nearly as drunk as you had thought. 

Not to mention, they were also in the game room across the hall, sprawled out near the floor, with their ears near the door hoping to hear you and Eliza talking to one another. 

“Anyway, so! Don’t you and Lafayette have a thing?” She asks, taking a mug of hot cocoa out of your hands.

“Well..” you trailed off. 

“What is it Y/N?” 

“I mean, we sort of do, I think maybe.” 

“Maybe?” Eliza inquired. 

“He called me ‘mon amour’ earlier, but I tried not to think too much into it.” 

“YOU DID WHAT?” You suddenly heard. 

“Wha- Alex?” You say as you walk closer to the door to the game room. 

“Y/N why didn’t you tell me?” Alex asked you as you opened the door and walked in to see all of the boys standing, ears pressed to the door. 

“Well Alex we aren’t even officially a thing so I don’t know what you’re getting worked up about?” 

“Oui mon ami, we are only friends.” Lafayette says, from behind Alex.

“Only friends with feelings!” Alex seethes.

“Alexander calm down, they aren’t dating and they just told you that. It’s okay.” Hercules said, trying to help you. 

Lafayette walked over towards you and wrapped his arms around you. 

“You are mon amour.” He whispered in your ear before giving you a hug. “I’m going to go now, we can discuss this when it isn’t ten at night. Goodbye.” Lafayette says as he heads for the door. “I am sorry if I have hurt you Alexander, but I promise you that I love your sister and I have for a very long time. I understand if you do not agree.” Before walking out.

“Alex! By God just leave the girl in tears why don’t you!” Eliza says from beside you. “No wonder you’re gay because with that attitude no woman would be able to stand you! Apologize to Laf right now! Call him, do something!” 

“Yeah bro, she’s right about this.” Herc says, as he sits on the couch and starts watching Family Feud. 

OMG EEEK, I DID IT YIKES. THIS IMAGINE IS ACTUALLY SO BAD AND NOT EXACTLY LIKE THE REQUEST BUT I HOPE YOU LIKED IT YEEHAW. I’m also thinking of making this a series pls tell me what u think :))

[jincherie]

catsitting | kyungsoo

↼pairing: kyungsoo x reader ↼genre: fluff, slight-but-not-really angst, Hybrid!AU ↼rating: sfw ↼words: 6.6k+

You somehow find yourself ‘catsitting’ for your best friend while he’s on a week-long trip. The only problem? His ‘cat’ hates you.

↼posted; 15.06.2017

↼masterlist

It was on a lazy Friday morning that you were startled awake by your phone and forced to reconsider your choice of ringtone at 7:23AM. “Kim Jongin why are you calling me at seven in the morning?” you answered the incessant ringing blearily, not even halfway to being fully-functioning yet.

“Come to your front door.” He said, only causing you to feel confusion. “And hurry up.” He added.

Half-asleep and dressed only in the Star Wars boxers you wore as pyjama pants and a singlet, you rolled out of bed and onto the floor, the resulting bang and abrupt pain enough to jolt you reasonably awake. “OW! Fuc—“

“Don’t swear there are children nearby!” Kai scolded, and there was what sounded like someone being hit on the other side of the line and some muffled protests.

“You don’t own me.” You grumbled as you dragged yourself to your feet and started your trek to the front door. You yanked it open unceremoniously, glaring at the person before you. Kai hung up on you, grinning with a cheerfulness that did not belong on the face of someone who was about to die.

“Good morning!” he greeted. “I have a favour to ask of you!”

“Go away.” You tried shutting the door but his movements were quicker than yours.

“That’s so rude y/n!” he whined, pouting. “Anyway, I need you to do something for me.”

Begrudging and acknowledging the fact that you weren’t going to be able to leave without at least hearing what he wanted, you sighed. “What do you want?”

Kai beamed, delighted, and looped his arm around someone who had until then been just out of sight, bringing him to his side. “I need you to look after Kyungsoo for me while I go on a business trip for two weeks.”

Kyungsoo, Kai’s beloved cat hybrid, was giving you a blank look that although was not outright disdainful, was on its way there. You winced. Kyungsoo hated you, and you didn’t even know why. From the day Kai had brought him home from the shelter and excitedly called you over to show him to you he had taken a clear disliking to you. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, it was hurtful, especially since he was warm and friendly to Kai but preferred to ignore you. Every other cat in the world would love you, or at the very least tolerate you, but Kyungsoo? He didn’t care much for you at all.

It took a moment for his words to catch up to you. “What?” you blinked, running a hand through your hair. You gave the hybrid a wary glance. Last time you had been this close you had been reaching for the TV remote at Kai’s and he had scratched you, clearly displeased. “Why me? Don’t you have friends that he actually likes that you can ask? Oh, wait, that requires having other friends.” You snickered. You may be half asleep but an opportunity to burn your best friend was still an opportunity.

“They’re all busy, either with work or school or their own hybrids. You’re the only one who literally has nothing going on in their life.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, but you still felt like you should be insulted. Your hand came to rest over your heart in a movement of feigned hurt. “Rude,” you said. “And how would you know? I might have something going on this week, and the next. I’m a busy girl you know, I have a lot going on. Fish to fry, irons in the fire. My time is very sought after these days.”

Kai snorted and Kyungsoo made a face. Wow. Why hadn’t you shut the door on them again?

“Anyway, my plane leaves in an hour so if you could hurry and come to a decision—“

“Kai!” you cried. “Are you kidding me?! Give me some more warning next time! Why am I even friends with you?!”

“So is that a yes?” Kai looked hopeful, ridiculously so, and his cat looked the very opposite of pleased at this new development.

You groaned. “Yes, fine. But you owe me, and I will not accept McDonald’s this time! I want smoothies, and frappes!”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he gushed, letting go of Kyungsoo to rush forward and envelop you in a hug before retreating and pushing the hybrid towards you. Kyungsoo yowled, knocking into you and hissing before leaping back. Oh, god, this was a terrible idea.

Kai grinned. “See you in two weeks! I’ll text you a list of things you need to know later!” he called, making his leave and quickly closing the door behind him.

You and Kyungsoo stood in shock a few moments after the door shut.

“Incredible.” You muttered to yourself. “The urge to beat him increases every day.”

You then turned— you needed a shower.

“Make yourself comfortable, Kyungsoo. The loungeroom is over there, and you can have the spare bedroom. It’s the first door on the right. I’m going to shower,” you said, before you then abruptly left, not wanting to see the displeased look the adorable hybrid was probably sending you by now.

Oh boy were you in for a long ride.

. . . . . .

Four days had passed and Kyungsoo was clearly trying his best to pretend you didn’t exist, with varying degrees of success (he had to eat with you sometimes), and for the most part you let him. It hurt a little, especially since you had an intense urge to pet him and scratch behind his adorable little ears, but if he didn’t want anything to do with you then you would leave him alone. For the most part he did his own thing, but you could swear you caught him looking at you every now and then.

Over the days you had work you had gradually been forced to stay back longer and longer, and this time you had to stay back until 6 when you normally left at 4. Needless to say when you got home you were tired as all hell and surprised beyond belief when you opened the door and heard footsteps come scampering towards you. Kyungsoo rounded the corner, doe eyes wide as he took in the sight of you in the doorway, startled and holding a takeaway bag. An indescribable emotion passed across his face before his eyes narrowed at you and his ears flicked in annoyance, long, dark tail following suit behind him.

“Where were you?” he demanded, looking grumpy. “Why did you take so long?”

Naturally you felt the urge to snap back but honestly you were too tired and didn’t want to be mean to Kyungsoo (even if he was being a total meanie himself). This was the most he’d spoken to you in four days, and you were a little salty that it was only to demand where you had been with his food.

He really must hate you a lot more than you thought.

Suddenly overcome with a wave of sadness at the prospect that the hybrid before you hated you that much and you still didn’t even know what you’d done to warrant it, you sighed. You felt completely sapped of energy.

“Sorry,” you muttered an apology. “I got kept back again at work and they took a while making the food.”

Not looking at him you finished entering the house and after locking the front door you moved to drop the food on the table. Hesitating only for a moment, you continued down the hall to your room.

“I’m not hungry, but you can eat. I’m going to bed. Goodnight Kyungsoo.”

You didn’t fall asleep for a long time that night.

. . . . .

 ‘…He gets lonely at night so you have to let him sleep in the same room as you, at least! I usually let him sleep in my bed. And he enjoys cuddles, he’s a cuddly person, so make sure you cuddle him at least once a day.’

You snorted to yourself as you read the list Kai had sent you a day or so ago, dressed and laying on top of your bed. That was certainly not going to happen, not while Kyungsoo had such an aversion to your presence.

‘…You should also make sure he bathes. Tongue baths don’t count!! He doesn’t like water much at all, so you might have to go in there and make sure he actually—‘

Alright, you’d read enough for now.

Sighing, you lay there and closed your eyes, trying to postpone the inevitable: leaving your bedroom. You honestly shouldn’t be taking some cat hybrid’s rejection so much to heart, but you couldn’t help it. At the very least, you wanted to be friends with Kyungsoo.

You had just about resigned yourself to laying on your mattress until you died when your doorbell rung. You froze, mentally checking what day it was; you didn’t think you were expecting visitors. Unless…

Crap. Today was Wednesday and you had completely forgotten that you had promised to watch your friend Luhan’s cat, Sehun, for the night. You groaned in a sickening moment of realisation. Was this what your life had come to? Catsitting for every owner under the sun?

You rolled from your bed and hurried to the door, passing a confused and sleepy looking Kyungsoo on the way. Kyungsoo was friendly to everyone but you, right? Surely he would get along with Sehun. Sehun was only a little bratty sometimes.

You nearly tore the door of its hinges in your rush. “Good morning!” you chirped, trying to make it seem like you’d been awake a lot longer than an hour. You’d only showered and dressed twenty minutes ago.

“Morning!” Luhan greeted cheerfully, Sehun doing the same where he stood towering over his owner. Holy shit had he grown since you’d last seen him?

You squinted at Sehun playfully. “Do you ever stop growing?”

He cracked a smile, playfully swaying a little where he stood. Luhan answered for him. “No, he doesn’t. Technically he’s still a kitten so he’s not really meant to stop growing but he just shot up, right? I need something that gives me a warning so I know when I need to buy new clothes.”

Sehun seemed amused but stayed silent. Luhan continued. “Anyway, thank you so much for doing this. I figured it would be better for him to stay with someone rather than alone at home, and he likes you so… I’ll be back for him at 12 tomorrow. No brainstorming ways to make my life more difficult, okay?!”

Sehun giggled and Luhan leant up to kiss his forehead goodbye, before he waved at you and left.

“What a weirdo. Anyway, Sehun, come on in. I have someone else staying with me right now, but he’s pretty chill so I think you’ll get along.”

You were right, the two hybrids hit it off pretty well, but Kyungsoo had given you a strange look when you had brought the other hybrid into the room. When Kyungsoo left an hour later after playing with his new friend, most likely to go read something, Sehun sidled up to you, seeking affection. You grinned and allowed yourself to be guided to the loungeroom. Sehun was usually pretty quiet when not in a playful mood and simply enjoyed your pets and scratches. He wasn’t like this with just anyone, which was undoubtedly part of the reason Luhan had dropped him off with you in particular. You’d looked after Sehun before and knew he enjoyed the comfort of having someone next to him, even while he slept.

You sat on the couch, turning the TV on and putting on a movie because you knew when Sehun settled down for a cuddle it was until he was ready to get up, and attempting to leave before then got you a tight grip and a whining catboy. So you settled on a movie and allowed Sehun to curl his larger frame around you. Kyungsoo was the tiniest bit shorter than you but Sehun was a fair bit taller. A satisfied hum started in Sehun’s throat when you ran your fingers through his hair and began scratching behind his ear, and he nuzzled his nose against your neck a little. You could feel his ear flicking against your cheek and his tail resting over your thigh. He was warm, and you both felt relaxed. At one point Sehun began to purr softly.

At some point in the movie Kyungsoo had wandered back into the loungeroom, and froze upon seeing you and Sehun. You glanced over in time to see the look he shot you, a mixture of hurt and frustration, before he sat on the other couch, angling his body away from you and reading. You were confused and also a little hurt yourself. What had you done this time?

Kyungsoo left soon after, presumably to go to his room, and you hadn’t even realised Sehun was still awake until you heard him speak against your neck.

“Why are you sad?” he asked softly, clutching you a little tighter.

You contemplated lying before dismissing the idea. For such a whiny, needy catboy Sehun was alarmingly perceptive. He would know you were lying.

“Because he hates me,” you sighed. “And I don’t even know what I did to upset him so much.”

Sehun simply hummed against your neck, staying silent. Whether it was because he didn’t know why himself or for another reason, you didn’t know.

. . . .

That night you had slept with Sehun cuddled up to your side, a pleasant warmth in the cool of your house. You saw nothing wrong with it, of course; you’d done it many times before. Sehun simply enjoyed human contact and being cuddled.

Kyungsoo, however, seemed to possess opposite views on the matter, scowling at you as you shuffled into the kitchen the next morning, Sehun gripping your shirt and lagging behind you. You pretended not to see the look, instead turning to the cupboard and asking what they both wanted for breakfast. After eating Sehun and Kyungsoo played in the loungeroom a bit while you cleaned the house a little.

As 12 o’clock rolled around and Luhan arrived to pick up Sehun, you were about to wave goodbye to them at the door when the tall hybrid rushed over and leaned down whisper into your ear.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Sehun whispered hurriedly, his cute little lisp making an appearance. “He’s just hurt.”

He then pulled away with a smile like that was meant to explain everything and waved, running off to where Luhan stood waiting in your front yard. They went, and contrary to what Sehun had probably intended you were left even more confused than before. Hurt? Why was he hurt? What had you done?

You puzzled over it for the rest of the day, hardly having to worry about bumping into Kyungsoo since he avoided you like the black plague anyway. What could you have possibly done?

You didn’t have a clue as to the answer until after dinner when you were curled on the couch, playing a videogame on your Xbox. Kyungsoo shuffled into the room, glancing at you momentarily before moving to the spot he had claimed as his on the other couch. He had adjusted the cushions there so that they sat almost like another person as he curled into them.

You figured he was going to pretend you didn’t exist like he had been for the past week, and so were surprised when he spoke to you, sounding annoyed and upset. “Is anyone else coming over for you to cuddle and be affectionate to, or was Sehun the only one? Why did you even say yes to watching me? Why did you cuddle with him when you refuse to touch me?”

Your gaze had fallen on him when he first started speaking and you were alarmed at his words to say the least. You hadn’t expected them at all. His tail had begun twitching agitatedly as he spoke, thumping against the couch faster and faster until he was finished and he sat a moment before leaping up and rushing away, head bent down.

The sounds of your character dying in the background greeted your ears as you watched him leave. Absentmindedly you saved and turned off the console and TV, no longer in the mood for playing. You went to bed but didn’t sleep, mind whirling a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant and why he was upset until it clicked.

Did he think… that you didn’t like him? And didn’t want to pet him? But what could have given him this impression? You thought back. When Kai had first brought him home and summoned you over you hadn’t petted him at all, but that was because you were trying to respect him and give him personal space. Kai had told you how literally everyone else who had seen him hadn’t been able to resist giving him a pet or a scratch and so you thought he might appreciate a break from being manhandled.

But maybe, from his perspective… you winced. It probably looked like you disliked him. Everyone else had shown him affection but you had kept your distance and refused to touch him. Oh boy were you an idiot. Why were you like this?

You couldn’t tell for sure, but you had a feeling this was what had been causing such problems between you. You rolled over, eyes finally growing heavy, and resolved yourself to testing this theory tomorrow.

. . . . . . .

“Hey, Kyungsoo, wake up, I have something for you.”

The hybrid’s ears, the only visible part of him beneath the covers he had bundled around himself, twitched at the sound of your voice. Slowly he rolled over, blinking blearily. You grinned. “I brought you breakfast, since I have to leave early today. I’ll leave it here for you.” You set the tray down as you spoke, dusting your hands once you were done. As your eyes fell back on him you noticed a downy feather caught slightly in his hair near his ear.

This was the perfect opportunity. Taking advantage of the fact that he was still half asleep and therefore couldn’t scratch you, you shuffled closer and leaned to gently pluck it off. You allowed your hand to pet the hair down after you were done, brushing his ear a bit. It twitched, and he was looking at you in slight shock as you leaned back, shooting him a smile. “See you later, Kyungsoo.”

And then you left before he could come to his senses and chew you out.

When you returned after work it was to the sound of the TV softly playing in the loungeroom and you saw Kyungsoo on the couch, watching it determinedly (most likely because he’d just heard you come home).

“Hello, Kyungsoo.” You greeted warmly, ruffling his hair gently as you walked past. You caught a startled look from the corner of your eye but didn’t hear anything else. Grinning at the success so far of operation Let-Kyungsoo-Know-You-Don’t-Hate-Him, you went to your room, changing before returning and going to the kitchen to start dinner. Kyungsoo walked past several times, sending a confused and slightly curious look your way with each round he made. Eventually dinner was ready and you both sat down to eat it, the meal spent in silence. After dinner you washed up and left for bed, however this time, unlike all the previous nights, you left your door open. It had occurred to you throughout the day that maybe Kyungsoo did want to sleep in your bed with you at night and the only reason he hadn’t might be because he took your closed door as a sign of rejection. So this night, you left it open.

You had work the next day and it was spent much in the same fashion as the previous, except when you came home it was to the smell of an already cooked meal. Slightly alarmed, you rushed to the kitchen to find Kyungsoo serving your two meals. You felt pretty guilty, you had come home a bit later than usual.

“Sorry,” you said with a sheepish smile. “You didn’t have to, but I really appreciate it.”

Kyungsoo shrugged, averting his eyes. “I was hungry.” He mumbled.

Dinner was delicious (you had a feeling it also had a lot to do with the fact that someone other than you had cooked it for once), and after you finished you had the urge to turn and speak to Kyungsoo. He was still at the table, lost in thought as he pushed the last bit of food around his plate.

“Kyungsoo,” you started. He nearly jumped in surprise, large doe eyes finding yours. You smiled. “I want you to know, I don’t hate you. I don’t dislike you either. I like you and I’ll always cuddle with you if you want, but only if you want. I don’t want to force you to do anything.”

The hybrid was more than startled, wide eyes following you in shock even as you placed your plates in the sink and moved to your bedroom. You left the door to your room open once more.

The real difference came the next day. It was after work and dinner once more that you settled down in the loungeroom, putting a movie on, and simply enjoying it for now. Around ten minutes later the couch you were on dipped from a light weight and you turned, surprised, to see Kyungsoo. He wasn’t looking at you, but everywhere else his eyes could reach, his hands clutching the material of his pants.

He simply sat there for a while, and you smiled to yourself, turning back to the movie you had chosen. Gradually, over an excruciatingly long period of time, Kyungsoo crept closer, shuffling and shifting until he was just a hair’s width away. You smiled, lifting your arm, and he slowly cuddled into your offered side, still slightly stiff. Any tension that was in his form left as you started petting him gently, and he finally relaxed completely into your side, tail flicking in a way that for once didn’t indicate irritation.

You were absolutely ecstatic at the new development in how Kyungsoo regarded you. He was letting you pet him!! And he had come to you!!! Just wait until Kai heard about this when he returned in a week. You were grinning stupidly to yourself, thankful the hybrid in question couldn’t see the dumb look on your face.

That night you went to bed alone, but a few hours after you had both departed for bed you woke to see a timid figure in your doorway. Blinking blearily, you shuffled over so there was space and lifted the duvet for him, a beckoning gesture. Kyungsoo scampered over in the minimal lighting (you were thankful he could see pretty well in the dark) and climbed quickly in, like he was afraid you’d come to your senses at any second and take back your offer, kicking him out. What a strange cat.

You were facing each other but even with your eyes closed you could almost sense his tension and silent anxiety. Wordlessly you moved and grasped his hand comfortingly. You heard a soft gasp and for a second he remained tense but moments later it began to bleed from his form and he shuffled closer, tangling his legs with yours. You could feel his tail tickling your thigh where your pyjama shorts ended. Smiling to yourself, you fell asleep quickly thanks to the giddy glee you’d felt at Kyungsoo’s actions and the warmth he radiated.

. . . . .

The next morning when you woke Kyungsoo had worked his way over the space between you and had managed to entangle every limb you had with his own, his tail wrapped around your waist securely and an arm joining it, holding you close. You never would have guessed he was this kind of snuggler. His head was nestled in your neck and your own arm had fallen over him during the night as well. Unable to resist you moved your free hand and petted his head a bit, running your fingers through hair that admittedly was getting a bit close to its use-by date (a shower or bath was in order, you were thinking— Kai had said he was prone to avoiding them because of the water and you hadn’t seen him go into the bathroom to bathe at all) but still soft nonetheless, and you rubbed behind his ears. The reaction was instantaneous— Kyungsoo jolted the slightest bit and his breath hitched into a purr in his throat, the sound like music to your ears. Now this was progress!

You lay like that for a while, simply holding him close. He seemed pleased, satisfied, and the thought made you happy. You did know, however, that you needed to get Kyungsoo to bathe at some point lest Kai found out you’d let him go two weeks without so much as touching soap and water.

“I have something to say and you’re probably not going to like it,” you warned, feeling the cat tense in your arms. “You should probably shower before Kai kills me.”

Kyungsoo huffed, clutching you tightly as you tried to sit up. “No.” he refused bluntly. “I don’t want to. I don’t like water.”

You sat up with much effort, Kyungsoo clinging to you even as you swung your legs over the edge. “You gotta,” you attempted to persuade him, forcing yourself up. Kyungsoo was like a koala in the way he gripped onto you, refusing to let go.

“No.”

“Kyungsoo,” you whined, shuffling towards the bathroom. He had a ridiculously strong grip, it was honestly incredible, but he was also heavier than he looked so the trip to the bathroom took much longer than you thought it would.

As you got closer he seemed to realise that clinging to you was, in fact, doing the opposite of what he had originally intended and instead was bringing him much closer to the exact situation he was trying to avoid. He hissed as you crossed the threshold onto tiles and instead of gripping began attempting to push off you. You looped your arms around his middle, grinning.

“Bath time! Please don’t scratch me I don’t know where my bandaids are!”

Kyungsoo yowled, trying furiously to get out of your grip, his position making it difficult for him to get enough leverage to break free. He hissed and whined the entire time you filled the bathtub, only pausing in curiosity as you threw a bath bomb in there for his sake. Maybe he’d enjoy it more if it was special.

Then the tap was off and he was back to refuting the experience with all his might. He wriggled and squirmed, looking like he was about to bite you. You were reaching for something along the bathtub when he gave a particularly strong movement, knocking you (and therefore consequently him) off balance and causing you to fall backwards into the tub. There was a loud splash and Kyungsoo squawking as he was submerged all of a sudden in the very substance he had been avoiding for a week. You laughed at the situation, keeping your arms around him even as he freaked out a little and frantically tried to escape even more. Your pyjamas were soaked but at least your hair was still dry.

“Kyungsoo!” you said, bringing him close to you so he wouldn’t freak out so much. “Kyungsoo, its alright! Look, you’re fine, I’m here, you’re okay I’ve got you. Look at the water, isn’t it pretty? Look at all these bubbles.”

Your attempts to distract him seemed to work and you watched as he gradually stilled and brought his hand to cup some bubbles that were floating on top of the water. “See? This isn’t so bad.” You murmured, rubbing Kyungsoo’s side gently before reaching for the shampoo. His hair had gotten pretty soaked in his flailing, but his ears being pressed against his head had stopped any excess water getting inside them.

From that point the bath went pretty smoothly, you managed to get Kyungsoo pretty clean (you had made Kyungsoo wash himself with soap, too embarrassed to do it yourself but after washing his hair and massaging his scalp he seemed a lot more cooperative and mellow). He had protested and clung onto you when you tried to exit the bath without him though, so you had sat there while he finished up and waited for him to be done.

You wrapped him in a towel once you both climbed out, water sloshing everywhere and you winced at the thought that you’d have to clean that up at some point. You grabbed another towel and gently dried his hair, being mindful of his ears.

“Well, that isn’t exactly how I planned for that to go but at least you’re clean now.” You said, rubbing his scalp gently. The sensation must have been nice because a low purr began to rumble in the back of Kyungsoo’s throat and he leaned into your touch. His resentment of a bath and the fact that you’d forced him into one seemed forgotten.

After you’d both gotten dry and changed, and you emerged from your room Kyungsoo was at your side in the blink of an eye, his own wide eyes looking up at you. His hand found purchase in your shirt and you smiled at him, reaching up to pet his ears. Purrs erupted in his throat and he looked embarrassed before you laughed and began to move towards the kitchen.

You could hardly believe he was actually warming up to you.

. . . . .

The next few days were pleasant and spent more amicably than you could have hoped. He really had warmed up to you, putting your fears that maybe his responsiveness was just a fluke to rest. He’d grown to be almost as clingy as Sehun, except from time to time his pride caught up to him and he pretended he wasn’t as needy as he was acting.

The previous day he had come up and wound his arms around your waist as you were cooking, pressing his face into your neck and purring softly. You’d blushed but felt over the moon.

However, before you even knew it your week with the hybrid had come to an end, and as you heard the sound of your doorbell ring out you realised belatedly that the time had come for you to bid him farewell for now. Kyungsoo had run to the door as soon as he heard the sound of his owner arriving, waiting eagerly as you opened it to see a grinning Kai on the other side.

“Kai!!” Kyungsoo exclaimed, leaping at him and wrapping his arms around him tightly. Your friend staggered from the sheer force of the affectionate hug, but nonetheless returned it, laughing.

“Hey ‘Soo!!” he spun the hybrid around a bit. “I missed you! And oh my god I see you’ve showered?? You got him to bathe???” he seemed more shocked than anything towards the end as he looked at you, bewildered.

You grinned, pushing your misplaced sadness to the back of your mind for now. “Yep. What can I say, I think bath bombs really do the trick.”

Kyungsoo hugged Kai a little tighter before running off to gather his bags. You watched him go, before turning back to see your friend looking at you smugly. You had a sudden urge to hit that look off his face.

“What?” you asked, already knowing the direction the conversation was about to take.

“I see you’re still in one piece, alive and well and, oh, happy, in the company of a certain lovely feline no less!!” he exclaimed, extremely smug and looking beyond pleased with himself.

“Shut up Kai.” You ignored the slight flush that came to your cheeks. “We’re good now. He doesn’t hate me anymore, and honestly I’m kinda sad he has to go.”

Kai seemed taken aback. “Wow, what happened while I was gone?” he joked, poking you playfully. “Are you even the y/n I know and love?”

You batted at him. “Be quiet, you still owe me. I’m expecting those frappes.”

Kyungsoo returned before Kai could respond, carrying his bags with him and looking at both of you happily. “I’m all ready.” He said, smiling at his owner.

“Excellent.” Kai said, taking one of the hybrid’s bags. “Well, we should probably be off. I went for groceries before coming here and can’t really leave the milk in the car very long. Thank you again so much, y/n, I really appreciate it.  I’ll be sure to deliver on those frappes sometime.”

You smiled, a little sad. “It was my pleasure.” You spoke, looking at Kyungsoo. “I’d love to have you around again. You’re welcome anytime.”

Kyungsoo beamed at you, dropping his bag to throw his arms around you tightly. You were a little surprised but laughed, wrapping your arms around him too. He nuzzled your neck before retreating and grabbing his bag once more, ears flicking happily. “Thank you.” He said happily, with the cutest smile you had ever seen on his face.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled, before laughing at the pleased expression on Kai’s face. He had been trying for God knows how long to make you and his hybrid get along and now it was finally happening he seemed very pleased with himself.

“Well, bye y/n! We’ll see you around!” he bid you farewell, looping his arm through Kyungsoo’s. They both waved as they left, and you returned the gesture, a little sad, but overall sated.

You knew as you watched their car disappear in the distance that you’d be seeing them both soon again anyway, and next time you were going to spend the whole time with Kyungsoo.

Yeah, you thought to yourself as you closed your door with a small smile. That sounded great.