#why would I look at the side of the screen that only has advertizing?

[kiragecko]

Okay, with the new layout, something has broken the 'Dim Read Posts' feature. I think that all pages are being loaded multiple times, and therefor always count as read. Have to keep my mouse hovering over every post to keep it bright enough to read. (It also seems twice as dark as it was?)

I've turned off the extension in X-Kit Rewritten, but it hasn't helped. I vaguely remember Tumblr offering me the same feature, but I can't find it in any of my settings.

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I'm also having to click the home button twice before it will actually go to the top of my dash instead of just the top of the page. And it can take a long time - I'll just have an empty dash with the 'Next' button until it eventually flickers and loads some posts.

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My hands jitter (and wander) a lot, and keeping them steady on a post so I can read it isn't consistent. And the posts shifting colour as I scroll is giving me (more) headaches

Anyone know if this is a Firefox thing? A Tumblr thing? An X-Kit thing? An addblock thing? Etc? Or how to fix it?

[venusvity]

"no need to be gentle" + chloe 👀

IN WHICH ... Chloe has never cared about her personal safety.

FEATURING ... CHLOE LEE + KANG JUYEON

TRIGGER WARNINGS ... Kissing, Fan and Celebrity Relationships, Chloe is Mentally Ill.

Chloe stands in front of the tall man with an awkward laugh, smiling up at him as he looks at her like she's some ancient relic that shouldn't be touched let alone looked at. She can't blame him. It must be overwhelming for him to meet a celebrity of her caliber.

The air is sticky and still in this foggy park, making Chloe's bangs stick to her forehead slightly as she tilts her head at the man, raising her brows.

"Are you nervous?" Chloe asks, taking a step towards him. The boy nods, swallowing down his anxious laugh.

"Yeah," He admits, looking her over again to make sure she's real. Chloe laughs sweetly, taking ahold of his jacket to pull him closer. She can see his Adam's apple bob as he gulps, eyes widening slightly. Chloe likes it when they do that, look at her like she's some mystical creature. It makes her feel special. It gives her a rush.

"I wouldn't have messaged you if I didn't want to see you," Chloe coos, putting her hand on his cheek. His cheekbones are high and sharp but his eyes are round and soft. He's so handsome. Just looking at him fills Chloe with the adrenaline she's been craving for months now.

"I know. It's just..." The man shrugs, laughing awkwardly once again. "It's so weird you're here and I can...touch you and stuff."

Chloe giggles in response with a hum.

"You can touch me all you want," Chloe assures, making the man advert his gaze at the ground with a nervous laugh. Chloe loves making boys nervous. It makes her feel in control for once.

Chloe will be the first to admit that male validation brings her back to life especially when the limelight isn't on her. Right now, she has to be the supportive best friend to Yoonah, the star of the show, and she plays the role well enough she assumes. Still, Chloe is made to be the center of attention and she needs to get that attention from somewhere.

Fansites are usually the easiest and fastest way to get that attention.

Chloe watches her fansite slowly lift his hand and rest it on the side of her face. Chloe tilts her head into his palm, smiling up at him as her thumbs stroke his cheekbones.

"What's your name?" She wonders only knowing him by his screen name. CozyChloe. She thinks it's cute. He takes cute pictures of her at fan signs and performances. Chloe likes to pretend she knows his face, which she has seen before in the crowd, but she knows she's never seen him before tonight. It just makes her feel better to pretend she knows him.

"Juyeon," He tells her, resting his hand on her waist with a small growing smile. Chloe smiles at him, whispering his name like a becking call. She learns she likes the way his name falls from her lips. Juyeon's eyes light up when she says his name, flicking up to look into her eyes.

Chloe smiles at him again, watching him brush the hair out of her face so he can clearly look at her. His touch is gentle like she's made of glass and he'll shatter her. Chloe hums up at him before leaning in to press her lips to his but Juyeon pulls back in surprise. He looks at her in shock as Chloe keeps her chest pressed to his.

"There's no need to be gentle," Chloe assures him, showing him a second of her self-destructive nature. Juyeon shakes his head once the words immediately leave her lips, continuing to cradle her face in her hands.

"There is," Juyeon nearly interjects, "You're...You're Chloe. I don't want to be anything but gentle with you."

Chloe blinks slowly at his words, trying to process them but she just can't. It doesn't make sense why someone who could easily physically overpower her would want to be gentle with her. It's clear she doesn't understand and that makes Juyeon's brows knit slightly, wondering what she's been through to end up this way.

Juyeon moves his hands from her face to her waist again, squeezing the revealed skin softly as he holds her close.

"When I think of you, and you won't believe me, but I don't think...sexual," Juyeon tells her in a quiet and sweet voice but he's right. Chloe doesn't believe him. Why would a man ever think of her any other way? She can't stop the scoff from leaving her lips but Juyeon quickly shakes his head, nearly whining at her disbelief.

"I think about taking you on dates and seeing you get all dressed up to see me," Juyeon explains, shaking her playfully as if to get it through to her. Chloe laughs softly but now avoids his gaze, looking at the swingset to their right. She wonders if she should bail out now, tell Juyeon she isn't interested and walk away, but something keeps her in his arms and listening to him.

"I think about buying you flowers and taking pictures of you with them-"

"With your big ass camera?" Chloe teases, looking back at him with a small grin that makes Juyeon smile fondly at her. Chloe sees how much he likes her, how she's already his world without him even knowing her. A cold surge of adrenaline rushes through her, making her eyes widen slightly. This rush feels different from the one she was originally chasing. It feels better.

"I have smaller cameras. I have a lot of cameras actually," Juyeon begins to ramble about his cameras and the different kinds of photos they take but Chloe isn't listening. She stares at him, seeing all the possibilities of what she can do with Juyeon, what he'll let her do, and how he'll make her feel. It makes her body buzz, holding tightly onto his shirt before pushing herself up on her toes to kiss him again.

Juyeon lets her this time, leaning down to kiss her deeper just for a few moments before pulling back. He keeps her forehead against Chloe's, nuzzling her nose against his, making her hum sweetly.

"Do you want to show me your cameras?" Chloe playfully whispers. Juyeon laughs but nods in excitement, beaming at the proposition as he releases her waist to take her hands in his.

[toyahinterviews]

TONIGHT WITH JONATHAN ROSS, CHANNEL 4, 9.1.1991

JONATHAN: If I could choose just one word to describe my next guest, it would be versatility. Her music career has seen her labelled as the thinking man's punk, but she has also turned up on the big screen in such films as "The Tempest" and "Quadrophenia"   Most recently you might have seen her on TV in "Cluedo" standing in the parlour next to Colonel Mustard clutching a lead pipe. Did she do it? Let's find out  - Toyah Willcox! Thank you for joining us! TOYAH: Pleasure JONATHAN: Last time I met you was on "Sunday Sunday", you'd been sort of forced to go around town with Paul Daniels. Must’ve been horrible for you? TOYAH: Oh, it was terrible (the audience laughs) JONATHAN: I was surprised because I followed your singing career. I'd bought a few of your records back in the early 80s - TOYAH: You admit to that?!

JONATHAN: I do. I don't play them anymore but I bought them (Toyah laughs) But because then you started acting and I thought you just started acting but you'd been acting before - TOYAH: Oh yeah, I started acting when I was about 18. I was at National Theatre in a play with Kate Nelligan, directed by Maximilian Schell. Got very good reviews. Then I formed a band and started to have hit singles JONATHAN: And then after that - your acting probably is just as important now I guess as the music side, if not more so? TOYAH: Both acting and singing are really important. I just want to do both really well and I think it takes a lifetime. You just have little obstacles in your way, especially with singing like ageism and sexism and stuff like that. But you just get on with it and do the job JONATHAN: So do you find that now - you're getting on a bit, you're a bit older than you were ... (the audience laugh) We’re all getting slightly older ...

TOYAH: I'm very optimistic. I find singing - it's a tough industry to work in. And I think by female terms in the music business, especially the pop business I'm getting on a bit, but I'm not going to go away JONATHAN: You’ve acted with some great (names) but you were in a TV film with Laurence Olivier, based on the John Fowles book ("The Ebony Tower") I remember but also at the moment you're seen in the commercials for "Mum" antiperspirant (Toyah looks awkard, the audience laughs) The reason why I’m raising that is I just wonder - because I've done a few commercials purely for cash myself as well, Toyah ... (the audience laugh)      No one does it out the love of the product purely. We had (the DJ) Andy Kershaw on the show last week and he was advertising a spot cream and I think if you have to choose why go for something like a spot cream or an antiperspirant? They're not the most sexy subjects to be associated with - TOYAH: I’d rather go for them than a bank! JONATHAN: Would you really? 

TOYAH: Yeah! I mean, number one, it was at the time when Ark was just being launched and celebrity has power. Ark was asking a lot of celebrities to try and inform the public of the power they have as consumers to stop things like CF gasses going on super supermarket shelves. The "Mum" thing came along, OK, I did it and I got paid very well and that meant it gave me the choice of what work I could do for the next few years   I made two albums on it. I could work in theatre, because usually in theatre per week you get about 50 quid to go home with and thanks to the "Mum" advert  not only did I do my bit to combat CF gases, but I also had enough money to choose what work I wanted to do JONATHAN: So whenever when anyone buys a little tube of "Mum" they're sponsoring one of your albums? Would that be … ? (Toyah cackles) Do you not think we should put a warning on the packet or something? If they’re unhappy with the deal? I'm not saying they would be but  - (Toyah laughs) TOYAH: Not only are they buying a very good antiperspirant but they're actually buying a wonderfully phallic symbol JONATHAN: Oh, well ...

TOYAH: When we did that advert we spent the whole day trying to get me to hold this product without it looking as if it was my vibrator (the audience laughs, Jonathan looks jokingly deep in though as if thinking about it) JONATHAN: I'd hazard a guess that the outtakes for that pass for quite a lot of money (Toyah and the audience laugh) So you're still doing music then? You have some new -

TOYAH: Yeah I've got a new album out next month called "Ophelia’s Shadow" which is kind of my answer to "Hamlet". There's a kind of big speech in "Hamlet" where - JONATHAN: That sounds quite a pathway to sort of - you've got one of the possibly finest plays ever written and you've got an album as an answer to it - TOYAH: Yeah because Hamlet says to a Ophelia: “Get thee to a nunnery. Go! Get thee gone! God gives you one face - you make yourself another. You lisp, you amble, you make monsters of us.” And the way it's written Ophelia says “Oh, what a noble mind is here overthrown.”   My album has changed the inflection on that and Ophelia says (mockingly) “Oh my, what a noble mind is overthrown.” (sticks two fingers up as if to say f off) So I mean ... my Ophelia doesn't drown herself JONATHAN: So you've made the ending a bit happier then? TOYAH: I’ve re-written it

JONATHAN: It's kind of like the Dynasty (an 80's TV series) people would have done. “Give us Hamlet (but) give us a happy ending”. Is it that kind of thing? TOYAH: After doing "The Tempest" with Derek Jarman – Derek completely rewrote "The Tempest" so I thought well, I'll give it a try JONATHAN: When you look back on your earlier albums, on the kind of 80s stuff, the hit singles, "It’s A Mystery" and "Sheep Farming In Barnet", which I remember very fondly (Toyah giggles and the audience laugh) Now, what do you feel about them? TOYAH: I don’t look back. I don't look back because I'm ashamed. I'm not ashamed, but it's history. And I think the 80s is really history. I think we are aeons away from that decade and I just don't relate to it JONATHAN: We just put a photo up of you (below) in one of your incarnations modelling what looks to the early Gloria Hunniford – (the audience laugh) TOYAH: Yeah, that's the early "Mum" advert - JONATHAN: It’s the full under arm expose – I see that

TOYAH: Use "Mum"! I just don’t look back. What's the point of looking back? Life's ahead of us. Life I think is a pretty short thing whether you live to old age or not - it goes really quickly. What's the point of looking back? JONATHAN: Another project you’re involved in … You work really hard, you're involved in all sorts of things but you're also doing something with the "Survival" (a nature documentary) programme, is that right? TOYAH: Yeah, I've done the kind of - what's it called … the narration for "Survival Factor" which is on Channel 4 every Tuesday. I read one critic where the critic said “wear your raincoat if you listen to Toyah Willcox, narrating this programme” - JONATHAN: That's because of your lisp (Toyah cackles). Because I was always surprised you had a hit single with (puts on a bad lisp) "It's A Mystery" - TOYAH: (with an over the top lisp) It’s a mystery - JONATHAN: Because I've had a similar problem myself (Toyah laughs) Maybe we should get together and do a duet. That'd be nice

TOYAH: I’ll take you up on that JONATHAN: Me, you and Pete Beale from EastEnders (they all laugh) You said life is short. This show is far far shorter. Thanks for coming on -  Toyah Willcox! 

Watch the interview HERE 

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Fiction - Shin x Reader drabble

I know one popular imagine (or at least I’ve certainly seen it come up a lot) is some sort of reverse AU where your favourite character is the one that lives in the real world while you’re fictional and they’re left fangirling over you. 

It’s something that doesn’t work quite so well with the diaboys, Shin in particular because I really don’t see him as the type to get fictional crushes, but I definitely see the appeal, and recently I felt inspired to have a go at writing it. Because leaving Shin as a first blood but trying to make him fall in love with a video game character would have genuinely broken my brain, this is set a modern AU I talked about in this ask (in other words it is a true reverse AU).

Possible trigger warnings only really include some vague mentions of disease + treatment. If anyone needs me to add any warnings then please let me know!

***

The first time Shin sees you it’s on the cover of a magazine—one of the one’s the nerdy guys who look like they could use less time on their parent’s couches tend to drool over—that he’s stacking on the racks at the convenience store, one of the many part-time jobs he’d had to pick up when the money dwindled along with his older brother’s health. There’s no reason why the cover should catch his attention—the title it’s advertising is called Diabolik Lovers of all thingsーand he wouldn’t have said you’re particularly his type, but for some reason, his gaze lingers on it as he works on shelving some of the other magazines. 

Maybe it’s just that after spending so much time around his brother, he’s started to pick up something of an eye for art. Whatever, he has more shit to do before his shift ends and no matter how hard he’s working himself, he’s still far above becoming one of those weird otaku types. So he turns his back on you and gets back to work.

He watches the screen out of the corner of his eye for a bit, waiting for the perfect time to catch him out. It’s not at the right angle to let him read the text, but he can make you out well enough. There’s something about you that seems familiar but he’d never play these sorts of games himself so he writes it off as nothing more than some weird déjà vu. At least whoever was in charge of your character design had a halfway decent sense of style—your hair frames your face nicely, unlike the characters plastered all over the adverts on the trains that he’s forced to look at on the way to and from the café. Your figure... isn’t terrible per say and your outfit definitely flatters it. 

The second time he sees you, it’s on the screen of a co-worker's portable games console—hidden under the counter during a particularly slow shift at the coffee shop. Shin has half a mind to bark at the guy—Tanaka or Tamura or something—to put it away, but it’s been a long week; a bad week, with Carla’s doctor’s bills wracking up even though none of the drugs they give him seem to do a damn thing. As it is, Shin himself feels like he’s about to go out of his mind with boredom so he might as well wind the guy up to get some sort of a kick.

The screen changes then, switching from a sprite of you pulling some sort of haughty expression to something that looks much more like embarrassment, your eyes no longer looking at the player and instead off to the side as you bite your lip.

Cute, Shin thinks, unbidden, before catching himself. The stress and exhaustion of the past week must be catching up to him more than he’d thought if he’s seriously eyeing up a bunch of pixels. Then his attention is snatched by the sound of the café door opening, a bunch of tourists bundling in to escape the faint autumn chill in the air, and he snaps at Takada(?) to put the damn game away and get back to work, your face shoved to the back of his mind and forgotten about. 

It stays that way for the next couple of months as autumn turns into winter proper, the outside temperature going from slightly chilly to downright uncomfortable. It’s on a day when the weather is particularly bad that Shin finds himself stuck in the same café. He has the job of closing up for the night, and is about to be on his way when his phone buzzes with a message from his brother notifying him that apparently there's been some sort of major fault with the trainline and the service has been cancelled for the rest of the evening so he’ll have to find another way home.

Shin lets out a particularly foul curse as he tosses his coat and scarf onto a nearby chair and sunk down into one opposite. He doesn’t have the money for a cab—well, he does, but if he uses it then he can kiss that new pair of glasses goodbye, a pair he sorely needs given how scratched the lenses of his current ones have gotten despite his best efforts. The last bus is long gone and there's sure as hell no way he's going to try to walk home—not with the snow that's coming down in thick flakes and starting to pile up outside the door. In fact with what's quickly starting to look like a blizzard sweeping through the city, Shin isn’t sure he’d be able to get a cab even if he was prepared to fork out for one.

He shoots off a quick message to his manager explaining the situation and asking if he's alright to stay the night. By the time the reply comes through, the scene outside the window looks actively hostile and Shin’s already decided that he’s staying no matter how much trouble it gets him into. Fortunately that’s not something he has to worry about, as his manager not only gives him the clear to stay the night, but also to help himself to some food so he doesn’t starve. 

He’s halfway through his second sandwich when he notices the battery on his phone is in the red. Crap, without it he’s stuck in here all night with fuck all to do. Abandoning the sandwich, he goes to search the employees' room to see if anyone’s left a phone charger he can borrow lying around. It’s as he’s hunting around the space that he spots it, Tadaka something or other’s game console. Huh, he must have forgotten it when he’d left earlier. Shin looks at it for a moment, it would be something to pass the time at least but there’s no case lying around so he’d be stuck with whatever the idiot was last playing. 

Shaking his head, Shin resumes his search for a phone charger, borderline turning the whole room upside down, only to come up short. How can his colleagues have left behind everything from a college text book to spare—he hopes—underwear, but not a phone charger? Cursing his luck, he grabs the game console as he stomps back to the main space of the café, throwing himself into a seat and taking a vicious bite of his sandwich as he powers up the handheld.

He pauses when he reads the name of the highlighted game icon—the one that’s actually loaded in the console—Diabolik Lovers, why did that ring a bell? Whatever, he’s probably just seen some poster for it around town he thinks as he taps through the various company logos and the opening movie. It’s only when he gets to the title screen and your sprite shows up next to the title, your voice playing through the speakers as you say the name of the game, that he realises what game this is. 

Now that he’s actually got a good look at the screen, Shin thinks he was right in his initial evaluation of you—you’re not really his type, but you’re not exactly bad to look at either. He chooses the new game option, leaning back in his chair and he selects to keep the default protagonists name and quickly reads through the prologue. God the premise for this game is even worse than he’d been expecting, what sort of weirdo wanted to play through a game where they were trapped in a mansion with a bunch of sadistic vampires? 

Still, at least it might give him something to laugh at. He’s just thinking how much he already dislikes the stupid and meek protagonist when he gets to the route selection screen. There’s no real reason why he chooses you—if anyone asked he’d say it’s because the other love interests all seem likely to irritate him to death before he could even get past their prologues. 

As it is, the game is even more corny than he'd imagined. There's no real plot to speak of, just a series of scenes where you find some reason or another to harass the feeble protagonist.

He's at the point where he's about to turn the damn game off and try to get some sleep when the audio changes slightly, so that it sounds as though your voice is coming more from one speaker than it is the other. For a moment he knocks the console against the surface of the table, thinking the stupid thing must be on the fritz. The audio still sounds janked and Shin frowns at it before an idea strikes him. He plugs his headphones in and tries playing the next voice line andーOh.

It sounds like you're speaking right in his ear, your voice is low as you deliver a threat to the protagonist about just what will happen if he disobeys you. In spite of himself, Shin feels a faint burn start to spread across his cheeks. It's really really stupid that he's being even the slightest bit affected by such a cheap gimmick but your voice is nice and it's definitely doing something for him whether he wants it to or not. He clicks through the next lines of dialogue, a shudder running through him when your voice drops to a whisper. Shin swears he will never ever admit to anyone the heat that pools in him when you call the protagonist a good boy for nodding along with your orders.

When you pull away and the audio goes back to normal, Shin sits there for a moment. There's no way he can just lie his head on the table and go to sleep now, not when he feels far more awake than he had before he'd picked up the gameーfar more than he has for a long while now in fact.

The snow has long stopped falling by the time the low battery icon starts to blink, the sky having lightened to a now a mid-tone gray against the otherwise white outdoors. Shin blearily squints at the time on the console and sees that the store is due to open in just a couple of hoursーhe's somehow spent nearly the entire night playing some dumb video game. 

He finally turns handheld off, stretching out in his chair and cursing at himself for not noticing the time earlier. Taking off his glasses, he folds his arm to make a rudimentary pillow and rests his head on them. And when he finally sinks deep into the clutches of sleep, he dreams of you.

A couple of weeks pass. Shin doesn't buy the game or make any effort to play it again but he does think about it more than he'd likeーfor some reason he just can't quite shake the sound of your voice in his ears and it keeps him awake at night. There's no way he can straight up ask to borrow it, not with the hit it'd be to his already thoroughly dented pride, and he can't justify spending the money on it either. So he tries his best to put you out of his head and get on with his frustratingly tedious life.

That is, at least, until he walks past a second hand shop on the way back from the supermarket and spots a CD with you emblazoned on the cover on one of the racks outside. He quickly checks to make sure there's no one around before stepping closer, taking the CD in his hand and turning it over. Shin hadn't known there were drama CDs too一seriously how many freaks had to be into this stuff for there to be this much material for it?一and as he looks from the case in his hand to those still on the rack, he realises that it's not just one set of CDs either. There must be nearly two dozen volumes from the franchise at least, many from different series boasting increasingly stupid titles. 

The CD he's holding is the only one featuring youーwhich means you're either one of the most popular characters or no one was even willing to buy your volumes first-handーand it's only two hundred yen. He shouldn't buy it, really, listening to this sort of stuff is beneath him. 

Minutes later he exits the store with a small plastic bag and his wallet slightly lighter for it.

The CD ends up being about what Shin had expected, a solid hour of you degrading the witless protagonist from the games interspersed with the obscene noises of you drinking his blood. He listens to it just before he goes to sleep, and then again the next evening and once more while he's closing up the coffee shop.

A few weeks later, he spies another one of your CDs in the same second hand shop for four hundred yen. He buys that too.

Shin still doesn't buy any of the games, but as it turns out, he doesn't need to. Some losers with far too much time on their hands have translated nearly every single one of your routes into English, so he reads through those instead, the years spent at that private bordering school in England before his family had fallen apart finally coming into use. 

That’s not all though, there are a whole bunch of stories about you on various blogging sites, clearly written by shut-ins who spend too much time hunched over their laptops to have any hope of being in a real relationship. That doesn’t stop him from reading them all though—the good, the bad, and the ones that are far more depraved than anything in the actual games. He learns to stop reading the latter in public after an incident in which he misses his train stop due to being preoccupied by trying to cover his crotch with his bag.

It takes a while for him to notice how deep he’s getting, that the new earring he’d bought the other week with a small amount of extra cash just happens to have a crystal in it the same colour as your eyes. That most nights he falls asleep to the sound of your voice being played through his shitty headphones, which he justifies to himself by the fact it distracts from the noise the upstairs neighbours usually inflict on him. That some of his limited free time has been spent arguing with idiots online, who clearly don’t know anything about you at all but like to pretend they do. 

It’s only when he 's walking through the street, the summer sunlight warming his skin, and he catches sight of a poster plastered over a nearby building that it really hits him. The poster is big, full of all of the different love interests from the game franchise dressed in fancy outfits as part of some limited edition campaign thing. You’re there, front and centre—and fuck you’re beautiful.

Something in his chest aches as he looks as you—actually aches—and if he weren’t so preoccupied with the sight of you, he’d be more than a little disgusted with himself. As it is, Shin’s not prepared to admit how long he stands there, staring. And if he drops by the event to pick up the free postcard of you in your event outfit then that’s nobody’s business but his.

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

[waitimcomingtoo]

fine line - p.p

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: there’s a fine line between love and hate and you and Peter dance it on a regular basis

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

When your dad told you he had recruited a boy your age to the Avengers, you felt a little flame of jealousy bubble inside you. Without any superpowers of your own, you were often left out of the heroic and dangerous missions the Avengers went on. Your dad did his best to include you by letting you help out in the lab and tag along on lowkey missions, but that all changed when Peter started coming around.

A lot of things changed when Peter started coming around.

The way he seemed to replace you, and so effortlessly at that, boiled into a deep resentment for the young hero. He was always there, occupying the spaces you once did, and you resented it. You resented him.

Just not as much as you resented the way he made your heart flutter when he looked at you.

~

“What are you guys doing?” You asked as you walked into the lab to see your dad. Peter was by his side, as he always was, making you roll your eyes. Peter smiled brightly at you as you sat down, and you gave him a tight lipped smile back.

“Hey, Princess.” Your dad greeted. “We’re adding back up back up jets in the butt of Rhodey’s suit in case the back up jets in his legs fail.”

“I call them the weapons of ass destruction.” Peter said gleefully as he held up the jets.

“Yeah, hilarious.” You said sarcastically and turned to your dad. “Um, daddy, I thought we were gonna do that.”

“Sorry sugar plum. I needed to get this done before the trip later and sticky fingers said I shouldn’t wake you.” Tony apologized to you and a familiar feeling of anger filled your tummy. This wasn’t the first time you’d found Peter doing something with your dad that you were originally supposed to do. It seemed like every plan you made, Peter weaseled his way in and took your place. You looked at Peter with narrowed eyes, to which he responded with a sympathetic smile.

“Did he now?” You said, just a little bitterly.

“Maybe you can help us next time. Did you sleep well?” Peter asked politely, and you just rolled your eyes.

“Did I sleep well? What are you, my Fitbit?” You snorted and looked away from him. Peter’s heart sank at yet another rejection from you, but he kept his mouth shut and continued working. Your eyes shifted back to him once he went back to his work, feeling a pang of guilt for being short with him.

“What trip are we going on later?” You directed your question only to your father, acting like Peter wasn’t there.

“Cap got a hit on where Bucky might be. We’re heading to Canada to check it out.” Your dad explained as he twisted a screwdriver.

“Okay. I’ll pack my stuff.” You got out of your chair and went to leave before you heard your dad sigh.

“Sorry Princess, but this is just gonna be an avengers thing.” He said with apologetic eyes. “We only have room in the jet for four and I promised Peter-“

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, not wanting to hear about Peter again. “I’ll just hang out with mom.”

“It’s really cold in Canada anyway. It’ll probably be a bad trip.” Peter offered to make you feel better.

“Yeah, thanks weather boy.” You teased and looked at your dad again. “Can we hang out tomorrow then?”

“Of course. Mall and a smoothie?” He asked, making you smile as he suggested your signature thing to do together.

“Mall and a smoothie.” You nodded, happy that he was finally making time for you. You rested your chin in your hands and watched them work, feeling slightly better now that you made plans with your dad that Peter couldn’t infiltrate.

~

You tripped over a cardboard box the next day, stumbling right into Peters arms as he caught you. You looked down and saw a bunch of boxes outside your old playroom, boxes with Peters handwriting on them.

“What is all this? You’re blocking the hallway.” You snipped at Peter as you stepped out of his arms.

“Sorry, Y/n. I’m almost done.” Peter apologized as he picked up another box. “Hey, I like your shirt.”

“Almost done with what?” You ignored his compliment, despite it making your face flush.

“Moving in. Mr. Stark gave me this room so I wouldn’t have to commute here everyday.” Peter explained. Your eyes widened up upon hearing this, not believing your dad would let Peter move in without asking you.

“You’re moving in?” You nearly yelled, making Peter clutch his box in fear that he did something wrong.

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “Maybe we can hang out more now that-“

“Sorry, I’ll be right back.” You cut him off and rushed to the kitchen, finding your dad rummaging through the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” You demanded.

“Making a smoothie. Want one?” He offered as he shut the refrigerator with his butt.

“No thank you.” You shook your head. “And I’m talking about Peter. Why did he tell me he’s moving in?”

“Oh, cause he is. Now, do I want straw-bana or kale-berry?” Your dad pondered as he tapped his chin.

“Why does he have to live here? He has a house.” You reminded him.

“He has an apartment smaller than the first dollhouse I bought you. Princess, he was basically living in a cardboard box and sleeping under newspapers.”

“This isn’t an dog pound, daddy. We can’t just take in strays.” You whined, wishing he could take your side for once.

“He’s not a stray. He’s my son.” Tony quipped as he booped your nose and crossed the kitchen. Your heart sank to your stomach at his words and you felt your face fall.

“No he…no he isn’t.” You sputtered in a weak voice.

“Cheer up, sour patch. Think of it this way, now you have a brother.” Tony shrugged and dropped some blueberries in the blender.

“I don’t want a brother. Our family is fine the way it is.” You insisted, feeling the jealousy come back in a wave when your dad called Peter his son.

“He’s a good kid, Princess.” Tony said in a tone that told you the conversation was over. “Give him a chance. He’ll surprise you. Hell, he surprised me.”

Before you could respond, Peter entered the kitchen with a happy smile.

“Hey Mr. Stark. Hi Y/n.” He waved at you and put some bowls in the cabinet.

“Yeah, hi Parker.” You said dismissively, wanting him to leave so you could finish talking to your dad.

“You ready?” Tony asked Peter as he poured the smoothie into two cups, handing one to Peter.

“Yep. I’ll see you in the theater.” Peter nodded as he clicked his glass against your dads.

“What are you guys doing?” You wondered, watching them interact with disgust.

“He’s got me hooked on this show about teenagers in a glee club. The writing is horrible, I love it.” Tony beamed as he took a sip form his cup.

“I thought we were gonna hang out today. You know, mall and a smoothie?” You reminded him, feeling a bubble of hurt that he didn’t remember.

“Oh, sorry buttercup.” Tony realized he forgot. “I promised Pete the treat I’d watch the show with him. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded sadly as your dad cupped your chin and left the room.

“You could watch with us if you’d like. They sing a lot of the songs you like.” Peter extended an invitation to you when he saw your disappointment.

“Thanks for the sales pitch, but I’m good.” You mumbled at him and left the kitchen, missing the solemn look on Peters face as you went.

“She doesn’t like me.” Peter sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at his smoothie.

“No, she does not.” Tony laughed, cutting it short when Peter looked at him in dispare. “Oh, not funny. Don’t sweat it, kid. It took me a long time to like you too. She’ll come around.”

“Okay, good.” Peter nodded, content with the answer. “Wait, what?”

~

“FRIDAY, what’s my assignment?” You asked the screen outside the lab as you reported for your job the following day.

“Good morning, Y/n.” FRIDAY greeted. “Mr. Stark asks that you repair bullet holes in one of the suits.”

“Cool. Let me in.”

“Access granted.” FRIDAY chirped as the doors opened. You only got a few paces into the lab when you saw Peter sitting at a table, sighing in annoyance at the sight of him.

“Hello.” He said weakly, knowing you wouldn’t thrilled to see him.

“What are you doing in here?” You eyed him skeptically as you got some tools off a shelf.

“Not much at the moment.” Peter shrugged, trying to make a light hearted joke.

“Well you can’t stay. I have an assignment.” You told him, a little proudly at that. You were finally given a task after being idle for months.

“Actually, I have to stay.” Peter said, looking a little weary of you as you neared him.

“Why?”

“I am your assignment.” He grimaced, anticipating your reaction to be bad.

“You have bullet holes?” You folded your arms and eyed his body.

“Canadians aren’t as friendly as I thought.” Peter chuckled.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “Where’s the suit?”

“Right here.” Peter pulled it out of his backpack. “Theres three of them. The holes are in the front. And the back. They sorta went through.”

“Went through?” Your eyes widened as you worried for him. “As in went through your body?”

“Canadians really aren’t as friendly as I thought.”

“You said that already.” You stated as you laid his suit out on the table.

“Sometimes jokes are funnier when you say them twice.” Peter explained, coming to stand by your side.

“I don’t need you to explain humor to me.” You grumbled as you began working on the holes.

“Feels like I do.” Peter muttered, adverting his eyes from you.

“Excuse me?” You snapped your head up to glare at him.

“Nothing.” He gave you an obviously fake smile. “Nothing at all.”

Doing your best to ignore him, you got back to your work. He was close enough that you could feel his breath in your neck, your elbows touching every-time you pulled on the thread.

“Is there a reason you’re hovering?” You said suddenly, losing your ability to focus with him that near.

“I just want to make sure you’re doing it correctly.” He shrugged, leaning down to check your work. Your jaw dropped a little, feeling offended that he didn’t have faith in your to do it correctly.

“So what, you think I can’t patch a bullet hole on my own?” You laughed shortly as you raised as eyebrow at him.

“Well I know the suit better than you do.” He said simply, taking pleasure in getting a rise out of you.

“I helped design it, Parker.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I know it just as well.”

“Then you won’t mind me making sure of that.” Peter shot back, running his finger over the newly patched hole.

“Whatever.” You scoffed and went back to work. “Just because you’re my dads lab rat doesn’t mean you’re mine.”

“I didn’t say I was.” Peter leaned again, watching your work closely.

“And yet.” You looked up with a sarcastic smirk, your nose nearly touching his from how close he was. “Hovering.”

“Sorry.” Peter mumbled and took a step back.

“You said there were three holes. I only see two.” You realized as you held the suit up.

“That’s weird. I definitely got shot three times.” Peter tilted his head as he stared at it.

“Did you find three bullets?” You asked him, a rare moment of civility.

“No. Just two. Oh…” He trailed off when he realized where the third bullet was.

“Yeah. Oh.” You mocked him. “Take your shirt off.”

“What?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows at your request as you went to a different shelf in the lab.

“You can’t leave the bullet in there, you’ll get an infection.” You reminded him as you set medical supplies on the table. “Take your shirt off.”

Peter hesitantly pulled his shirt over his head once you turned around to disinfect the table. You turned around, needle in hand, and turned a deep red at the sight of him.

“Good.” You swallowed thickly. “Just leave it on the counter.”

“Are you trained to do this?” Peter worried as he folded his t shirt. You did your best to hold eye contact, but your eyes slipped every now and then.

“I’ve read about how to do it.” You said quietly, not trusting your voice to be steady.

“Have you ever done it before?” Peter wondered as he stared at the large needle.

“I’ve read about how to do it.” You repeated to avoid the question.

“See? You said the joke twice. That makes it funny.” He smiled smugly at you and you made a face.

“Shut up and get on the table.” You groaned and he complied, laying on his side to let you work. You rounded the table to work on his back where the exit wound was located.

“Oh good.” You commented as you rested a hand on his bare rib cage. “It’s right at the surface.”

“Okay. Try not to kill me while you’re back there.” Peter looked at you over his shoulder so you stuck your tongue out at him.

“I won’t.” You grumbled, hesitating a little as your stared at his wound. “Um, this is gonna hurt.”

You felt a moment of sympathy for him, knowing he was in for a lot of pain. His skin was hot, even under your surgical glove you could feel it. In a brief lack of judgment, you squeezed his arm to comfort him.

“I’m Spiderman. Nothing hurts - SON OF A BITCH.” Peter screamed as you pressed a hydrogen peroxide soaked gauze pad to his wound. You quickly took out the tweezer and fished out the bullet, all while Peter hissed in pain.

“Sorry sorry sorry.” You stammered and threw the bullet into a dish. “It’s out.”

“Oh my God. I feel like a pencil sharpener.” Peter whined as he rubbed his back near the area.

“Sit up. I’ll patch you up.” You said in a kinder tone then he was used to hearing.

“You don’t have to.” Peter looked at you as he sat up straight.

“Yes I do. You’re my assignment.” You shrugged, trying to portray that you couldn’t care less when in reality, you did. As much as he got under your skin, you didn’t want to see him hurt.

You poured more hydrogen peroxide on a gauze pad as you cleaned his wound, feeling his body retract at first contact.

“That’s cold.” He winced, twisting his body around to avoid the pad.

“It’s also gonna save your life.” You grumbled. “Hold still.”

“Ow.” Peter jolted when you applied numbing cream to the wounds. “Cold again.”

“Can you stop whining?” You yourself whines as you blew on his cuts.

“Can you be a little more gentle?” He retorted. “Just try to be nice to me for five minutes. It can’t be that hard.”

“I am nice to you.” You hissed as you started your sutures. “I sewed up your dumb suit and I’m cleaning your stupid cuts so you don’t get an infection in your dumb ass body. I am nice.”

“Said the joke twice.” Peter quipped, grinning at you over his shoulder to rub it in.

“Shut up.” You sneered. “Stop fidgeting.”

“You think I’m funny.” He said in a sing song voice. “That’s fine. I get it all the time.”

“Oh my God. Could you be anymore irritating?” You groaned as you put the last bandaid on his back. You walked around the table to patch the front, looking up at him shyly as his bare chest rose and fell.

“Easily.” He snickered. “Wanna see?”

“I’ve seen plenty, trust me.” You rolled your eyes, meaning more than one thing with your words. Peter smirked a little, able to heart your rapid heartbeat with his advanced hearing. You rested a hand in his shoulder as you cleaned his chest, the wounds in the front stinging less as they already began to heal. Peter watched you intently as you worked, admiring the way you bit your lip when you concentrated.

“You know, if you stopped acting like I was the devils spawn for a minute, you might actually like me. We’d get along.” He laughed softly, making you look up at him. Your eyes locked and for a moment, he saw kindness in them. It quickly retreated as your face hardened, looking down to avoid his gaze.”

“Thanks for the life advice but I think I’ll pass.” You replied sarcastically as you opened a bandage.

“Is there a reason you don’t like me?” Peter honestly wondered. “Is it something I did?”

“No.” You grumbled, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. “Be quiet, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Oh, I get it.” Peter nodded like he knew something you didn’t.

“You get what?” You took the bait, looked up at him in angry confusion.

“You like me.” Peter smirked, making your whole body ignite. Your face twisted in shock, followed by anger as you stumbled over the right words to say.

“What?” You sputtered. “What could possibly lead you to believe I like you?”

“That’s the most obvious answer.” Peter pretended to yawn, making you even angrier. “You’re mean to me because I you like me. Classic playground logic. It’s cute if you think about it.”

“I do not!” You stamped your foot, feeling frustrated that you couldn’t come up with a better argument. He had caught you red handed and you didn’t see a way out.

“Okay.” Peter’s voice was dripping with false innocence. “I believe you.”

“Listen Parker.” You growled, leaning your hands on either side him and gripping the table. “Let me make this clear, I do not, nor will I ever, like you. I don’t even tolerate you.” You shook your head slowly while holding his gaze. “I don’t want you here, okay? My life was a whole lot better before you came around and ruined it. If it were up to me, you’d be thrown out on your ass before lunch. I do not like you.”

“And yet,” Peter leaned forward, tilting his head a little, “your heartbeat says something entirely different. You know what they say, there’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“You’re all done.” You ripped off your gloves with a loud snap. “Put your shirt back on.”

Peter smirked as he tugged his shirt over his head, loving the angry flush he left on your face. You gave him one last glare before storming out of the lab, your footsteps echoing loudly as you went.

“See you later!” Peter called cheerfully, laughing when you let out an angry huff.

 To be continued…

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[hellowkatey]

I refuse to believe the droid that blew up under tech's ass didn't cause more damage

3.9k words ~ depictions of violence ~ ao3 ~ a little whump for your troubles

"They're using live rounds!" Hunter hisses, and Tech's blood runs cold. Live rounds? The Kaminoans have never resorted to training with live rounds within the simulation chamber. Even at a low power, live rounds have 62% chance of causing extensive damage to the room's durasteel construction, as opposed to the 21% chance with stuns. That does not even account for the monetary loss if a soldier were to lose their life or require medical attention. All in all, it's a horribly irresponsible training tactic. Something has changed. But why? Tech does not have an answer for that.

He looks at Hunter and Echo crouched behind the barrier next to him. "Get Wrecker," Hunter commands, the flurry of bright red blaster shots zooming overhead. "We'll cover you."

Tech offers a single nod in confirmation and eyes the distance to his fallen brother. With cover from both Hunter and Echo, and if he approaches from the opposite side of his barrier, he should have a relatively high chance of success. Assuming he can keep his head down, of course.

Tech makes his way to the barrier closer to Wrecker without issue.

"Wrecker, are you alright?" He asks, his anxiety quelling at the sight of his brother crawling toward him. The shot did not seem to fully penetrate his armor, which is good news. Tech runs out to meet him, grabbing Wrecker by the shoulder to help him get out of the line of fire.

Just in time it seems. One of the trigger-happy droids notices their movement and leaves a trail of carbon scoring in their wake.

Tech and Wrecker collapse against a barrier just as Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair fall back from their previous positions. He can see them approximately eight meters away. Too far to hear any orders without Hunter alerting the droids to their potential plan.

Suddenly their barrier is getting pounded by blasters. The training droids have discovered their hiding place and are firing without mercy. Smoke from the live rounds curl from the other side of the barrier, fogging up Tech's goggles and filling the air with the horrendous scent of burnt plastoid.

Or perhaps that is the smell of Wrecker's melted chest plate. Difficult to tell. Tech is quickly inching toward overstimulation from the deafening shots, heavy footsteps, and smell of smoke assaulting his senses..

He peers around the corner of their hiding space to get an idea of how close the droids are when a shot slams against the corner— far too close to comfort. He recoils just in time, but the heat of the shot still warms the skin between his helmet and blacks. There seems to be no clear break as the line of their attackers moves forward. He and Wrecker are stuck unless the others can help.

A whistle cuts through the sounds of battle. Tech and Wrecker look at their sergeant who waits for their attention before going through a serious of hand signals.

Split up. Cover. Draw fire. Distract and manual take down. Reprogram. Tech nods along, recognizing this particular sequence.

"Oh!" Wrecker exclaims, collapsing dramatically from his crouched position. "I hate hand signals."

"Perhaps if you memorized them," Tech offers, though he knows there is no chance in hell that will ever happen.

"Why don't you memorize them?"

"I have." Tech is more surprised that Wrecker assumed he hadn't. "What we did on Felucia."

Wrecker is on his feet in an instant. "Why didn't you just say that?" He throws a thumbs up to Hunter and the others— the only hand signal they can ever trust Wrecker to remember— and crouches his way to the outskirts of the chamber.

Tech watches as Hunter and Crosshair lay down cover fire, splitting up to spread the attention of the droids. And Echo assumes his ARC trooper role of running head-on into the action. As the droids shoot at his quick run, Wrecker runs up from behind, tackling one of the training droids to the ground with a satisfied laugh.

Also in typical ARC trooper fashion, Echo jumps onto the back of the other droid as though it's an angry rancor he's attempting to ride. And the droid bucks as any rancor would-- until Echo slams his scomp link into its neck, deactivating it all together.

Now it's reprogramming time. Tech runs to meet them, catching Wrecker's eager arm as it moves to punch the fallen droid again.

"Reprogramming this thing will be pointless if you crush it."

Wrecker seems disappointed, but he resists the urge to wreck. "You better be right about this."

Tech ignores the doubt and gets to work in the droid's circuit board. He works as quickly as possible, acutely aware that Hunter and Crosshair are undoubtedly being swarmed by this point.

"Hurry up," Wrecker warns. It is a statement more of worry for their brothers than a critique of Tech's programming speed. With a quick glance at his vambrace monitor, he slams the circuit board shut.

"Done. Let him go."

Wrecker and Echo back off just as the other droids launch a new attack at the site of their droid field surgery. They run for cover. Tech, on the other hand, situates himself on the shoulders of his new pet droid.

If Echo is the rancor rider, then he is the rancor tamer in this analogy.

The droid stands at its full height, nearly throwing Tech off on the way up, but he manages to press his thighs against its head to balance his weight. Shots from the other droids are whizzing past him in growing frequency. He is an easy target at this height and visibility. He needs to work quickly.

Taking control of the droid's weapons, he fires the live rounds back at the combatant droids. While their training blasters were useless against the thick durasteel plated training droids— as they were meant to be in a simulation— the live rounds actually do sufficient damage. He breezes past Echo and Wrecker's battle stations. Instructs his droid to punch the other droids that managed to get past his initial rain of fire. And as he weakens their defenses his brothers move in with vibroblades, perfectly placed stun shots, and raw strength.

A little bit of pride swells in his chest. The tides appear to be turning in their favor. If they can keep up this pace, their outcome will be favorable.

With his vantage point, Tech spots a droid sneaking up on Wrecker, who is otherwise occupied by beating another droid into submission.

"Wrecker, look alive," he warns. Wrecker lets out a sound of confusion before whirring around to find his next victim. It only takes an impressive suplex and Echo jabbing the droid in the neck for the danger to be adverted. But a new danger has begun to emerge.

Warning signs start flashing across Tech's vambrace screen. His rewriting job had to be hasty, which means he did not get the chance to secure every single circuit. His rush may prove to be their downfall as the connection flickers in and out. The droid sways beneath him and he fights to remain on its shoulders.

"I can't sustain the connection," he says through grit teeth. But with two more enemies stalking toward him he has no choice but to hope he can hold on through the end. His droid manages a weak strike against one of the attacking bots, and a few point blank shots in the face of the other. The connection suddenly re-establishes with full strength, and he grins with glee.

But his success is only temporary. His ride jolts backward as a droid from the upper tier manages to shoot right though its chest— right into the main circuitboard, Tech realizes with dismay. He can't do anything but watch as the droid gets hit a few more times and explodes beneath him. The surge of the blast sends Tech flying backward with much more force than would have been a problem had he simply fallen off the droid. His body hits the ground back-first, ripping the air from his lungs. And then he bounces. When he hits it again, the back of his head slams into the durasteel floor and his vision swims with black dots. Tech tries to blink through the cloudiness of his vision, barely aware of somebody yelling his name through the ringing in his ears.

Everything suddenly hurts. The back of his legs are hot and the smell of burnt plastoid is even more putrid than earlier. Considering how long the droid had been engaging in active battle, and the numerous shots straight to the power source... the heat of combustion had to have been fairly significant. Perhaps even sufficient enough to melt his armor, he realizes with a deep groan.

"Tech!" his name reaches him this time. A little clearer. Definitely Wrecker. He tries to lift his head but only succeeds in lobbing it to the side. But it's enough to see Wrecker crouched a few meters away. "Hold tight, buddy."

Tech can see the consistent shower of blaster shots still thick in the air. It is a full-on battlefield tucked within the confines of Kamino's training facility.

"I'm..." he starts to say, attempting to assure Wrecker that he's okay, but even the act of raising his arm and head is enough to send a jolt of pain down his back and limbs. His vision blurs again and he suddenly is whipped by exhaustion. His adrenaline has finally dropped off and it is pulling him down with it. Tech collapses back on to the ground, letting out a shaky sigh. "...not going anywhere."

He wants to help. But he runs the numbers in his head even as the aura of a migraine starts to dance before his eyes. With the number of droids and taking into account their individual firepower abilities paired with handicaps that come from limited programming and movement, Tech calculates that they have a 46% chance of success without his help.

They've won on lesser odds.

And when he takes into consideration the alternate scenario of him pushing through his current injuries and attempting to aid them in completing the simulation, their chance of success actually reduces to 41%. He knows his presence would distract the rest of his squad, or introduce a number of uncertain variables he is too tired to take into account at the moment.

Well, the math does not lie, he thinks, and lets his eyes flutter shut.

Wrecker watches Tech's body go limp and he seriously considers running at that last droid and tearing its head clean off with his bare hands. His youngest brother mutters something he can't really hear— whatever it is, his voice is pinched with pain. Not a good sign.

This needs to end now.

As though Crosshair was reading his mind, the sniper appears out of nowhere with his rifle at the ready. (Sometimes Wrecker wonders if he really can read minds. It wouldn't surprise him.)

"Wrecker, knife!" he yells. He has no idea what Cross is gonna do, but he unsheathes his knife and throws it in the air with a backspin. Crosshair shoots and strikes his knife mid-air, sending it blade first straight between the eyes of the last droid.

"Wow," he says in amazement.

There's a moment of quiet after the droid falls. Wrecker stands at his full height, still in awe that Cross managed to actually get that shot! He knows his brother's aim is impressive but wow— sometimes it's just next level.

Wrecker suddenly remembers Tech still lying next to the burnt leftovers of his pet droid. He and Echo rush to his side. Though Tech has pushed himself to a sitting position, Wrecker has enough experience with explosives and getting too close to them to notice how his brother refuses to let the back of his legs touch anything. On top of if, he saw the way his head bounced against the floor. Wrecker's no medic, but he knows a solid hit to the noggin when he sees one. Tech's usually sharp eyes are unfocused. The smears of carbon scoring across the lenses aren't helping, so he tries to wipe it away with his gloves. He only succeeds in making the smearing worse, but what worries him more is that his younger brother didn't react like he usually does when anyone tries to touch his goggles. Usually he jerks away, insists he can fix them himself. But now he's just... staring at nothing. It sends a spike of worry through Wrecker's large body.

As they attempt to pull him to his feet, he glances down at the state of Tech's armor. A shutter runs up his spine.

It's not good. He can't tell if the red that is dripping down Tech's boots and onto the floor is from his melted armor or blood... neither is a good sigh. And as soon as he and Echo get Tech to his feet, he immediately starts swaying to the side. Wrecker catches him under the arms, hearing a low hiss of pain and wondering if he should let him lie back again.

"Tech, are you okay?" Hunter asks as he and Crosshair make it to their position.

Tech's reply is very not-Tech like. A low groan. Not a single word. But he shifts his weight to his feet and gently pulls out of Wrecker's grasp to stand on his own.

"Techy you don't have to--"

"We're being watched," Crosshair interrupts. Wrecker looks up and realizes that Tarkin guy and Lama Su are still watching from the viewing gallery.

A part of him is glad they can't see the death stare on his face for shooting live rounds— live rounds!— at them.

Another part of him wants to give them a piece of his mind.

But as they disappear from sight, it becomes very obvious that Tech was only standing for their benefit. This time, his knees buckle and he falls forward. Hunter and Crosshair both lunge to catch him.

"He's out," Hunter says as they gently lower him to the ground. Now the overhead lights shine down on Tech's back and all of them freeze.

"Shit," Crosshair curses. The explosion melted his armor for sure. But what concerns them all is the mess of raw skin and melted blacks behind his knees and at his ankles. "Where the hell is medical?"

For some reason, when Tech awoke he expected to be staring at the ceiling of a med tent. It is a natural association to make in his newly conscious state. He suffered an injury due to an explosion, which is usually a scenario that is only possible in an active battlefield situation.

Hence, why seeing the sterile white ceiling of the Kamino ceiling sent him into a momentary panic. Did they cart me straight back to Kamino from the battlefield? Am I that injured? Does this mean I am being decommissioned?

He begins to try and sit up, but strong hands press down on his chest. It takes a few rounds of blinking to clear the tears that have welled up in his eyes. Echo and Crosshair stand on either side of his bed. Still in their armor. Both wide-eyed and looking quite exhausted as they attempt to calm him.

"Breathe, Tech," Echo says, demonstrating by drawing in his own large breath and slowly releasing it through his pursed lips. Tech imitates him until the tightness in his chest subsides. And he remembers.

A simulation. We were doing a training exercise. I was sitting atop the shoulders of a droid and... the droid combusted.

Right. Suddenly the numbness in his legs and the dull bite of a waning migraine make sense.

"Did we win at least?" Tech asks, looking between Crosshair and Echo.

"You don't remember?" The sniper asks carefully.

Tech remembers falling. A white hot pain. And then a lot of yelling and a lot of darkness.

"My current memory of the end of the exercise seems to be a bit... murky."

Echo and Crosshair exchange glances.

"We destroyed all the droids," Echo says finally.

"Wrecker was pleased about that part," the sniper mutters.

"So we won then. That's good." Both of them are silent for a long moment. Long enough that Tech replays their conversation up to that point wondering if he said something incorrect. From his point of view, there has been nothing that would offend either of them. So why they are acting so strange is beyond his understanding, unless they are withholding other context from while he was unconscious. "...isn't it?"

Finally Crosshair clears his throat. "None of us would consider you getting blown up a mission success, Tech."

"Well, technically, I didn't blow up, the droid—"

"Technically, nothing," Crosshair snaps at him. Echo glares at the sniper but doesn't exactly try to correct his outburst. "Either way, you got hurt."

Oh. So they are worried about his condition. For the first time since he's woken up, Tech cranes his head to look down at himself. He's in a thin, medical gown. No wonder he was feeling a bit of a draft. His bare legs are completely wrapped in thick bacta strips. That explains the numbness as well.

"How... bad?"

"Not as bad as it looks," Echo admits. "Mostly second-degree burns on your legs with a few small spots of third degree burns. No concussion and no grafts needed. Doc said after this round of bacta they'll rewrap and we can take you back to the barracks. It'll just feel like you have a bad sunburn for a few days."

That's good news at least. He does feel much better. Not in terrible pain like before, though Tech suspects the IV in his arm might have something to do with that.

"You passed out after the simulation," Crosshair says with a haunted stare.

"From the pain, I assume?"

"Also from the adrenaline dump." Echo shrugs. "We all came out of that with shaky legs."

"Speak for yourself," Crosshair mutters but Echo ignores him.

"None of us expected to fight for our lives today."

All of them can agree on that. Speaking of fighting for their lives, Tech realizes it's just the three of them. He looks to the beds at his left and right and find that they're empty. The memory of watching Wrecker's body crumble after getting shot flashes through Tech's mind and he tries to sit up again. This time Crosshair presses his hand against his back and helps him up.

"Where's Wrecker and Hunter? Are they alright?"

"Wrecker also had a burn on his chest, but they discharged him already. Hunter is with him," Echo smiles. "I think Wrecker said something about being hungry."

"Well, we didn't get much of a meal before this," Crosshair says bitterly.

Tech finally relaxes back into the pillow. His brothers are all safe, he's going to be discharged soon, and they completed their training exercise. It's a much better outcome than he expected from waking up in the med wing.

After his bacta is changed, Echo helps him into a fresh pair of blacks while Crosshair grabs his armor. The shirt is no problem, but the tight-fitting pants prove to be a more difficult feat.

"Maybe we can go get you a looser pair," Echo suggests as Tech has to literally bite down on his own lip to distract himself from the discomfort. Even with the barrier of bandages, the thick material feels scratchy against his sensitive skin. So bad that shivers run up his spine and he begins to feel a little nauseous.

"No," Tech pushes Echo's hand away. Honestly, the very thought of the pants having to peel back down his leg is worse than the idea of keeping them on. "I'll adjust." Echo seems hesitant but he doesn't fight him further. Tech gets his armor on-- sans the pieces that were melted in the explosion, of course. Those will require a trip to the armory to replace. (But he is not exactly jumping at the idea of restraining his swollen legs right now, anyway.)

"Ready?" Crosshair asks, though his facial expression looks as though he won't believe a word that comes out of Tech's mouth no matter what.

"Indeed."

They walk slowly back to the barracks, taking the long route to pick up Hunter and Wrecker from the caf. For the first few corridors, the scratchy feeling is agonizing. He has to walk with stiff legs to avoid bending his knees too much. It earns him his fair share of strange looks from the regs that pass, though they usually look at him like he was some sort of abomination, so it doesn't bother him. (Tech hypothesizes it has something to do with his goggles and how they stick out of his helmet. Makes him look quite different from even his own squad.)

But as they reach the caf, the stinging has begun to fade. His body is adjusting, as he predicted. The pain receptors in his legs are finally recognizing that it isn't a stimulus worth the trouble to continue griping about. He manages to bend his knees just enough that his stiffness isn't so obvious, more of a limp.

Wrecker's joyful tone rings out as soon as they grow near to the cafeteria. The largest of their brothers appears around the corner, his face brightening as he breaks into a run. "Tech!" Echo and Crosshair are quick to jump in and stop him from body slamming Tech.

"Easy, Wrecker, you know better than any of us how it feels to get blown up," Crosshair says before stepping aside for Wrecker to pull Tech into a bear hug. He sees Cross glance at Echo and then smirk. "Well, maybe that's not true. Echo here might have us all beat."

The former ARC trooper rolls his eyes. "Very funny."

Wrecker releases Tech. Somehow without aggravating his burns too badly. He is glad he opted to wear his helmet instead of carrying it. The mask hides his wince as pain shoots up his legs when Wrecker drops him back on the floor.  "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"As am I," he replies sheepishly. They start to make their way back toward their barracks. "Though I hardly blew up, it was merely a droid overheating."

"Did it have smoke and fire?" Wrecker asks.

"Minimal, but yes."

"Did it make a boom sound?"

"Well I'm not sure I would classify--"

"And did you get thrown really hard and burn your butt off?"

Tech sighs. "Perhaps."

Wrecker shrugs with a smug grin, looking around at the others. "You may be the expert on most things, Tech, but I know explosions. And that sounds a lot like an explosion to me."

Crosshair chuckles, his face in its usual sneer as he pats Tech's shoulder pauldron.

"It's alright," Echo whispers to him as Wrecker starts a loud tangent about getting shot at. "Means you get to be a part of the Got Blown Up Club. Meetings are bimonthly."

Not exactly a club Tech expected to be joining at a battle simulation. But then again, when do things ever go right for their squad in normal circumstances? He is curious to see what justification they had for such an irresponsible stunt. Tech has a sinking feeling Tarkin and Echo's claim that he hates clones has something to do with it.

[simpsiren]

the deformed all-rounder;

lee donghyuck x reader

At first glance, you would think that he’s just the class clown. If you’ve never seen him out of class, that would be your only perception of him. But in truth, he’s one of the most well known guys in school. Part of Dream, he’s always the talk of almost everyone’s day— everyday. But not mine. I see nothing more than an arrogant, playful and annoyingly confident guy who wants nothing to do with the rest of the school other than his friends, but girls are constantly falling on their knees for him and I can never understand why. But like any other seemingly perfect student who’s living the life, they were bound to be rough around the edges, some edges digging deeper than others.

genre. angst, fluff, strangers to friend to lovers, an extreme slowburn

warnings. none!

word count. 15.3k~

description. I never wanted to get involved with him. I never liked him from the start. His presence in class has always made my eyes roll due to his nature that I just never seem to be fond of like the rest of the school. Personal problems led us to meeting in detention. But when Haechan could have possibly slipped out something he shouldn’t have, and our instances of meetings got more often, coincidental or not, as much as I couldn’t tolerate that unique nature that sets me into flames of anger, the world has its ways of bringing us together regardless. And my curiosity got me to know that there was much more to him than what meets the eye.

!as they should masterlist!

My eyes stared at my laptop screen, which only showed the five sentences I’ve typed out long minutes ago. My fingers couldn’t bring themselves up to type on the keyboard. Even if it did, it’ll simply hover above them for minutes as my mind remainded blank. I wasn’t able to think of anything to write. How was I able to type those five sentences when I didn’t even have a rough plot to go off by?

I was sitting alone in the quiet morning. I was able to get the keys to unlock the classroom since I’ve always been one of the little few that comes by very early in the morning. Silence made itself comfortable, the sound of the wind softly blowing in from the windows. Nothing came to mind. No ideas, no plot, no inspiration— nothing. Why wasn’t I able to write? I’ve faced such days when my brain would malfunction since I simply wasn’t in the mood. That was the case for most days. Today’s definitely not like that. Today was new. It’s not that I wasn’t in the mood, I just had no motivation. Why’s that? Since I didn’t have an idea. And who did I have to blame that for? No one but myself. And that’s what I didn’t like, not having to know the root cause of my inability to write.

I’ve tried to suppress my frustration, telling myself “It’s fine. Think deeper. You’ll find something to write. Just think.” But that sliver of encouragement was of no use at all as the inner voices of my self-disappointment popping up and attacking my confidence in every corner, and that was all I could think about. I instantly slammed my laptop shut, groaning out loudly and grabbing my hair. I leaned forward, elbows supporting my upper body as I balled fists in my hair. I took deep breaths in an attempt to stay calm. It worked, but I assumed it’ll only be for a short while.

I closed my eyes, thinking of them resting them awhile after being blinded by the screen’s light for almost an hour. Just then, I heard footsteps walking by. Instinctively, I looked up to the windows on the right hand side of the classroom that allowed us to see the hallway. Someone walked past. I couldn’t figure out who it was. It’s a guy. What seemed to be the only thing that stood out in the darkness was his somewhat bright orangey brown hair. Other than that, it was just his dark figure walking past. I glanced down on my phone. I still had thirty minutes till the school turned on the lights. Who is he and what was he doing here so early? From what I know, no one in this building comes to school early other than me.

I let out a sigh, shaking my head. For a moment I thought I had seen a ghost. But, I don’t believe in such things. The possibility was there though. Either way, I slid my laptop back into its leather case and placed it under my table. I waited in silence as I pressed my palm on my cheek, looking out the window. The trees swayed camly in the wind, the sun yet to rise and so the light that shined on the trees and school field gave off a grey hue. The sound of birds chirped softly in the distance. I slowly put my eyes to rest, as well as my brain before I get back to fighting another tiring day of school and making myself suffer even more by coming up with something to write, as well as other stressful things regular students go through.

I snapped back to reality once my classmate strolled in. So the day has started and I wasn’t able to enjoy the peacefulness of the morning any longer. It went by as usual. With the help of my friends making me laugh through each one hour class, I was able to keep myself fully awake. Then came History. The few subjects I liked most, but also hate. It wasn’t the subject’s fault, but the teacher’s. I had a strong dislike towards the way Mister Low taught History. I much rather preferred Miss Jenkins. But she only ever came to class as a relief teacher if Mister Low wasn’t around. To which was why I always prayed that something would happen to him so he wouldn’t have to clock into class. Luck wasn’t on my side today.

I said goodbye to all my other friends, taking my History materials and moving over to the classroom next door since the rest of my friend group took Geography, which I had zero interest in.

Mister Low barely thought us anything today. We were simply only told to write essays as time practice for our exam that wasn’t even coming in months time. I was hungry for content, to learn more about the topic that we were just barely a quater way done with. But he wasn’t giving any of it. I looked at the clock, thirty two more minutes. I glanced at my paper. I was already done with the essays, quickly pushing through it with the mentality of “Just get it done and other with.” That self-made motto was what got me through these three years. I then adverted my attention to Mister Low, who was sitting down at the teacher’s desk and typing away about who knows what, teacher things I guess.

The classroom was silent. And obviously it wasn’t because we were well behaved. I turned around, scanning my eyes over the classroom. Everyone was doing anything else but the task to be completed at hand. Majority were on their phones. They didn’t even bother hiding, their phones all out in the open on the table. Some were even holding their phones high up with their elbows on the table. The rest were either sleeping, drawing, or listening to music on their wireless earpieces.

I puckered my lips. My eyes shot to one person that caught my eye. Lee Donghyuck. Or what everyone else calls him by, Haechan. No one has called him by his real name before. Even the teachers call him Haechan. He was at the back, the farthest row of tables. His bright brown hair stood out to me. Was he the one I saw this morning?

Haechan was talking with some others at the back. They were having their own little group session, only their voices were being heard in the silent classroom as they huddled up. I faced back to the front but immediately turned around and glared when Haechan’s loud laughter spreaded across the room. Why wasn’t anyone bothered by them? How could anyone be fine with the fact that their annoying chatters and laughter constantly disrupted the class’s peace?

“Oi! Mister Low!” Haechan voiced out, making everyone, and I mean everyone, even the ones that are usually in their deepest sleep, turn their heads in sync to face Haechan. Mister Low lifted his eyes off his screen. “Yes?” He questioned with a tilted head. Haechan stood up from his seat and slowly made his way to the teacher’s desk, fingers interlocked behind him as he casually stride down the gap between the row of tables. He bounced on the balls of his feet slightly with each step.

“Can we get released early?” Haechan’s question made everyone turn their heads to each other and exchanged looks. “What is he thinking?” “Will he actually let us go?” “It’s Haechan. Let him do his thing.” Those are what I envisioned the students telepathically saying to each other. I however was shaking my head. There Haechan goes again. Being the all teacher’s pet and horning his ability to take advantage of each one of them, even the most strict ones. Mister Low was on the lenient side, the dumb lenient one to be specific— the pushover teacher.

“No. You still have twenty minutes. What would you guys do then?” Haechan laughed, clapping his hand once and keeping them clasped together in front of his chest. “It’s not like we’re getting off school grounds. Majority of us still have lessons after our late lunch. As you can see, all of us have already completed our essays. So I don’t see why you need to hold us any longer.” Haechan’s voice flowed in a formal and engaging way, just like an orator who can easily grab the interest of his audience. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I can’t belive he’s actually doing this.” I mumbled to myself.

This proposal was taken into consideration as Mister Low didn’t give a reply, but was looking up elsewhere thoughtfully. After a moment, he sighed in defeat, lazily swirling his hand in the air. “Okay, okay. Go. Put your essays here.” Mister Low called out to everyone.

No one even bothered to greet Mister Low. Or give in their essays. Everyone packed their bags as quickly as ever and ran out, desperate on getting out of this hell-hole of boredom. Haechan muttered a “Thank you, sir.” skipping back to his acquaintances and they all gave him a pat on the back. Mister Low has already exited. And I was the only one left sitting there, frozen in shock. How did he even get Mister Low to agree to that? All he had to say was a few sentences. The amount of persuasion he brought to the table was incredible. But I didn’t like it. He had good speaking skills, that I know. But he’s using it for the wrong reasons.

“Aren’t you leaving?” The familiar confident voice rang in my ear. Just when I was deep in my thoughts, I looked up, seeing Haechan standing in front of me as the rest walked past. This was the first time he’s ever spoken “Yeah.” I whispered. It was also the first time I’ve ever spoken to him. I stood up, blinking twice. I gathered my things and made a run for the door. I would never want to talk to him again. Just from his voice I could tell he was annoyingly confident, a feature that is commonly seen from those popular guys in rom-com movies. He wasn’t a bad boy per say, just... over the top stuck up.

I got back to classroom after walking around school for the rest of the minutes. I didn’t have to do that if Haechan hasn���t released the class early. I had nothing to do. I could just stayed in class if it weren’t for Haechan. “You look dead.” Yiung said, coming up from behind and placing a hand on my shoulder. I dropped down to the floor after placing my materials on the table, covering my head with my arms. I was completely brain drained at that point. “History shot me flat out.” I replied, my voice muffled.

“Are you staying here for lunch again?” I felt a presence beside me. I lifted my head up, seeing Mina squatting down while Yiung had her arms folded. I hummed in response. Mina placed a hand on my back, rubbing it up and down slowly. “It’s okay. I’ll get you gummies to eat during Biology.” Mina reassured me. She stood up and called out to Yiung, the both of them waving at me and sending me mental support as they left.

I was sitting at my study table, completed homework neatly stacked and pushed off to the side. The only thing left in front of me was my laptop, opened and glaring at me with its bright screen despite setting the brightness down to its lowest. My eyes never left the blank screen, an empty white simply looking back at me as it waited to be loaded with words. As much as I tried squeezing out every idea I had, I realised that it was all too boring. Too cliche, too predictable. It wouldn’t stand out like my other works do if I were to publish the piece of writing.

I glanced at the time shown on the bottom right of the screen. 6:05AM. I could get ready and head out now. I did stay up all night, but I took a nap immediately after coming home and ended waking up at eleven. My sleep schedule is all over the place. I lifted myself off my chair, turning my body here and there to stretch out my back and arms, instantly making my way to the bathroom.

I entered the school, greeting the security guard as he handed me the classroom keys. I placed my index finger through the key ring, swirling it around as the keys made its sound while it dangled and moved around. Just when I was about the enter the building to my classroom, I paused in my tracks. A familiar figure stood in front of another security guard. With squinted eyes, I went forward and pushed open the door.

“Hey.” I said, not directing it to a specific person. They didn’t respond and instead kept their stare on each other, which made me look at them weirdly. I shrugged and walked past them, slightly offended with their zero reaction. Due to the silence of the hallways, I was able to hear their conversation clearly, though they kept quiet the moment I came in.

“You aren’t suppose to do that. You’ll be reported to the principal. This is major.” The security guard lectured Haechan. “Honestly, I don’t care. Do what you want. I’ll settle it my own way.” I heard Haechan’s footsteps coming. Fast. He was storming. And in a matter of seconds, he was ahead of me, going a few more classes down, unlocking his classroom and furiously swinging open the door, disappearing out of my sight.

My steps to class got slower, my eyes not wanting to leave the opened door of Haechan’s classroom. Questions began circling in my head. What were they talking about? What is Haechan hiding that he had to keep it a secret from anyone who walked past them? Something major?

I took out my laptop from its leather case, turning it on and heading over to Google Docs. The stress of not having anything written settled in, but it somehow got overpowered by my thoughts and curiosity about Haechan’s situation. It was suspicious. Haechan talked to the security in a completely different manner. He was normally seen as the sun of the school. Bright, cheerful, always happy and living the life. But I felt the coldness of his words. It was so hard-hitting that I could feel it from when I was walking to class.

“Honestly, I don’t care. Do what you want. I’ll settle it my own way.” I shivered, closing my eyes and shaking my head. He was rough and harsh with his words. I was still shocked by it. However, as I looked at my screen again, something clicked in my head. I slowly brought my fingers up to the keyboard, they hovered above them for a moment before I began to type.

Major. Possibility of being reported by the principal. Keys...

I clicked on the period key at least twenty times before finally ending it with a question mark. I exhaled sharply, leaning forward against the table and allowing my elbows to support my upper body as I interlocked my fingers together and allowing my chin to rest on them. Why couldn’t I stop think about it? What was it that struck out so much that I couldn’t shake it off? It wasn’t even my business so why was I eager to find out?

“Wait.” I whispered. I thought about how this gave me the opportunity to come up with something. Thiller, mystery type of story. I’ve never written in that genre before, mostly being romance and fantasy. But Haechan’s suspicions behaviour moments ago peaked my interest. I could write something about that. I’ll use what I heard as guidance. I didn’t have an exact plot. Nor was I fully settled and happy with the idea, but I’d still be able to write the introduction with this mystery.

My fingers began typing away, faster than ever. The satisfaction of hearing the keyboard made its sound while I quickly pressed on each key. I was feeling that adrenaline to complete the introduction before the start of class. Something in me apparently fueled. But it wasn’t my motivation. I was simply typing. I didn’t feel anything. Aren’t writer suppose to be emotionally drawn and attached to their own book? It’s as if I’m writing to simply put words on paper without any other agenda, staying in the stagnant state of nothingness.

Later that day, I was met with the dreadful History class yet again. It’s the only lesson I had this week so might as well “Just get it done and over with.” I mumbled to myself as I made my way to the classroom next door. Everyone was doing their own things. Once again Haechan’s group of acquaintances were at the back chatting as loudly as ever. I call them acquaintances since I’ve only ever seen them hang out with Haechan during History. Other than that, Haechan doesn’t give a damn about anyone, besides the other Dream members.

I rolled my eyes and sat down at my table. Seconds later, Mister Low came in. We greeted him and sat back down. “So class today we’ll be doing another time practice after I go over some key point. I’ll be handing out the essay questions now. You’ll have to complete by the end of class.”

“You can’t be fucking serious.” I growled lowly, watching him handing out the papers to the first row in front. As he headed to my row I couldn’t help but feel the anger rising up in me. We aren’t actually going to be doing this right? When the student in front of me handed me the papers, I took one off the stack and passed it on to the back. My eyes looked down it. In annoyance, I scrunched it up in my hands, now smashing it to a small ball in my palm.

More than half an hour has already passed. He’s taking forever to go through the things that we learned, despite it not being a lot. I furiously pushed myself off my seat, the loud noise getting everyone’s eyes and attention on me. I looked down, teeth gritting as I tried taking in a deep breath before looking back up to Mister Low, who gave me a blank expression as his eyes travelled from the crumpled paper in my hand and back to me.

“I’m not doing this shit. What the hell have you been doing, Mister Low? You are barely giving us any content to learn and study. We’ve been doing time practices for weeks. I get that it’s important, but we aren’t even halfway done with chapter seven. Not to mention that we still have chapters eight, nine and ten to finish by the end of the fucking year!”

I was breathing heavily now. My arms were stiff and my stare on him fired with fury was intense. “Fuck your time practices.” I simply said, not giving a flying care about my consequences at that moment, throwing the crushed up paper past Mister Low and into the dustbin behind him. I ran a hand through my hair, turning around and seeing how everyone had mixed expressions. Shocked, satisfied, scared? Most probably all of the above. Haechan however had the widest smirk on his face. I swung my head back to Mister Low.

“I’m gonna have to give you detention for that, Miss _____.” I scoffed loudly, folding my arms and cocking up a brow, the corner of my lip lifting up ever so slightly to a smirk. “Do it. Give me hours of detention. More of your stupid practices. But you better teach this class something before I report you to the principal about how much you suck.”

Just like it was on cue, the school be rang, signalling that class had ended. I jerked my head slightly at Mister Low as I packed my things, everyone doing the same and rushing out.

“The fuck did you do?!” Lucas sat down beside me at the lunch table. Yiung and Mina were completing homework last minute and being the kind friend, I fed them chips whenever they opened their mouths for it. “You’re so busted.” Mina muttered, shaking her head in disappointment. “I shouldn’t be laughing oh God I’m sorry.” Lucas tried to suppress his laughter but wasn’t able to achieve it for even one second, bursting out laughing so loud. I slammed my hand palm down on the table.

“Someone had to do it! We can’t just be writing essays forever. We needed to learn the content but the idiot refuses to even do it. How’s that being a good teacher?” I angrily spoke, seeing Yiung opening her mouth wide. I shoved a chip in her mouth as she hummed in satisfaction. Lucas glanced down at his phone. “You’ll be getting the notice for detention in nine minutes.”

“Oh by the way...” Lucas started. I turned my head to him while Yiung and Mina still had their heads down, but their ears wide open. “I got some tea on Haechan.” A big mischievous smirk crept up his face, giggling ever so softly. I tilted my head and widened my eyes. Could this be related to what happened this morning? “Spill.” I said in a firm tone. Lucas nodded, leaning in close to me as his shoulders raised up till his ears. “I heard that this morning Haechan was seen with the principal in his office. I’m not sure what it’s about, but it must be serious since no one’s talking about Haechan today.” 

Mina gasped loudly and lifted her head up from her worksheet. She pointed her pen to Lucas and nodded her head vigorously with affirmation. “You’re right! The fact that no one had talked about Haechan today weirded me out so much! What I’m most shocked about is that no girls had even approached him today.” Mina whispered, joining in on the conversation as well and leaving her incomplete homework. 

I furrowed my eyes. That was indeed weird, and very out of the ordinary. I would always see girls gathered outside of Haechan’s classroom, waiting desperately for him to walk out and chasing him to shower him with gifts and presents. Most girls used that chaotic situation to confess to him, knowing very well that the answer from him would be a flat out “No.” I still don’t know why they even bother despite knowing the outcome. It’s as if every girl in this school has fallen under some kind of spell that make them act like vampires wanting to suck the life out of the unbothered Haechan. It’s ridiculous and immensely dumb. Explains why I don’t have that any other girl friends than Yiung and Mina. 

“Is it weird that I want to know what’s going on with him?” I questioned awkwardly. Lucas shrugged. “I guess that’s just your journalist side of you showing.” He simply replied. “Why did you quit writing the school’s newspaper when you are still going to write books? It’s the same thing.” I let out a disappointing sigh. “What you write about is different, Mina. How many times do I have to explain it to you guys.”

Suddenly the cafeteria that was loud and rowdy seconds ago has been put to silence instantly. All of us turned our head to the doors. It swung open, revealing the Dream. The school’s normal reaction would be to swoon over each one of them and having a fangirl session as they across their area. As cliché as that sounds, it is what usually happens. However, as expected due to the new information I acquired from Lucas, no one gave a single reaction to them, Instead, their eyes followed them warily with each step they took. They were quick to grab their food and leave. If the pin drop silence wasn’t enough, the atmosphere changed completely too. It was cold and deadly, as if a serial killer who  kept us hostage just came waltzing in. 

The moment they left, whispers and murmurs filled the room. The four of us looked back at each other, exchanging unrecognizable looks. “That was...”

“Interesting.”

After lunch, I was notified to head to the detention room once I ended school. I found it unexplainable. I screamed at the teacher and basically called him useless and this is what I get? Just detention? I mean I’m glad I didn’t have to do anything more, but I also thought about just how poorly this school manages its students, settling every problem with clearing up detentions hours. Any student could walk in with an empty mind and come out the exact same. It made no difference. 

I stepped in, only one teacher I was unfamiliar with sat at the teacher’s desk. I assumed she was only here for detention since I’ve never seen her around before. And because this was my first time in detention. She didn’t bother looking at me and instantly jerked her head to the tables, urging me to sit. I raised a brow. What else was I going to do?

I picked a seat, fully out of random. “Uh excuse me?” I asked, trying to sound polite as I pulling my chair in. The teacher looked up at me, her eyes narrowed with her eyes furrowed. “What?” She asked back with a rude tone. I arched one of my eyebrows in a questioning look. “Can I use my laptop?” 

“Do whatever you want.” 

I breathed a quiet laugh and nodded my head. “Well that was easy.” I whispered to myself. I took my laptop out of my bag and turned it on after placing it on the table. While waiting for it to start up and keying in my password, the door opened. I simply thought it was just another student who had detention. However, I could already tell from how their footsteps sounded that it wasn’t just any student. 

“Haechan. Nice seeing you here.” I looked up from the keyboard. I noticed how the woman flashed a bright smile as Haechan bowed his head slightly and making his way over to the tables. “I’m only here for an hour, right?” He asked, as if I wasn’t sitting in between their conversation. The woman hummed happily. “Yes, of course. It’s what I can do to repay you for your hard work.”

Haehan chuckled. “I’m glad.” He decided to take the seat next to mine, placing his bag on the chair and sitting down. He then turned to me, having a wide smile till his eyes formed a thin line. “Nice seeing you here. Care telling me how you ended up here?” Haechan questioned me in a playful manner. I took my eyes off him and to my screen, proceeding to head to Google Docs are per usual. I heard Haechan let out an exasperated sigh. “Nice meeting you too.” He muttered. 

Only a few minutes of silence have passed and the woman has already left the room since she had “personal matters.” to attend to, which left the room completely unattended and unsupervised. I assumed that she wouldn’t be coming back either. While I was thinking of how to continue my writing, I looked over to Haechan, who’s taking out a very large and full pencil case along with a stack of paper that had a very small grid. It looked like one of those papers that neat girls used for their notes to make it look aesthetic. 

He proceeded to open his pencil case and fished out for something. It was a felt tip pen. Or a calligraphy pen. I couldn’t exactly tell. He leaned forward and started writing on the paper. Seconds later, he took out a textbook from his bag. I noticed it was the History textbook.

“What are you doing?” I asked, suddenly getting curious the moment he took out the History textbook. He raised both his eyebrows, staring at me for a moment before lifting the textbook up slightly. “Making notes.” He replied very simply. I peeked over at his table, his other notes were scattered around. I was indeed impressed. “They’re... pretty.” I complimented awkwardly. Haechan chuckled. “Want to buy one?”

“Excuse me?”

“Eight dollars per paper. But the cost vary depending on the topic and subject.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

Haechan turned his body to have me, his arm resting on the back of his chair as he gave me an unimpressed expression. “I’m selling you my notes. What else?” He asked dryly, rolling his eyes and paying his attention back down to his notes. I blinked my eyes twice, trailing them from the notes and back to Haechan. What was he even doing? “You sell your notes...?” I asked softly. Haechan nodded firmly. “Indeed, I do.” 

“So do you want one or not?” “No.” I replied quickly, turning back to the front to focus on my writing.

Nothing else could be heard other than the typing of my keyboard, Haechan dropping his many pens on the table constantly as he switched between them every second and Haechan tapping his feet to unrecognizable beats as he listened to music on his Airpods. As I continued on with my writing, I realised that I’ve come to the part where the character had to know the truth about what actually happened, or in this reality, what actually happened to Haechan.

I looked over to him, he was flipping through another textbook now, getting ready to write another set of notes. I reached out, poking him on his shoulder with my index finger. He raised both his brows and took off one side of his Airpods. “Hm?” He asked questionably. “I have to know why you’re here.”

“You mean what got me into detention?” I nodded my head. Haechan took in a deep breath, letting a loud and lazy sigh escape his lips. “Everyone’s curious about that. Not just you. What right do you have to gain special access to know the truth?” I brought my head back, my mouth gaping slightly as my face went blank. That was true. I had no right. Everyone was curious about it too. It may not be seen in the hallways, especially when Haechan walks by. But rumors have been spreading behind closed doors. 

“People are talking about you.” Haechan scoffed, leaning back into his chair. “Of course they are. It’s an everyday thing.” I furrowed my brows, surprised at just how delusional he was being. “I meant that people are spreading rumors about you. I get that you’re the it-boy of school or whatever you’d call it. But I don’t think you realise that your reputation is slowly going down the drain.”

I paused for a moment, tilting my head a few angles down as a small smile, which later grew into a more satisfied one as I slowly watched Haechan being thrown off guard by my words. “I also happened to hear you talking with that security guard about the classroom keys.” I was now smirking, my eyes never leaving his. “It’s not even a big deal.” I huffed loudly. “Must be if the principal’s involved.”

Haechan glanced at the door, he was suddenly acting cautious and wary, as if someone would jump out to get him if he didn’t keep his eyes on the door. “They found out that I got stole a spare of classroom keys.” Haechan blurted out. I puckered my lips and nodded, bringing my hands back to the keyboard to record his words. “What the fuck? Are you some reporter?”

“No but I need to type this down. Could say it’s a habit. I used to write the school’s newspaper afterall.” Haechan arched a brow. “So you’re planning to tell this to the newspaper team?” I gave a half-shrug, shaking my head. “I quit two months ago. I thought you knew. It was in the newspaper.”

“I don’t read them.”

“Because you’re sick of seeing your face in it every week?”

“Could say that again.” I chuckled lightly. “I just need it for inspiration on a story I’m writing. Anyways, continue.” Haechan gave me a skeptical look, eyeing me up and down with suspicion before pinching his temples. “I didn’t exactly stole them. I made them.” His words made me widened my eyes. “H-How?” I stuttered, purely curious and somewhat amazed at the same time. 

“Chenle brought a 3D printer once. It could copy and make the exact replica of anything. I simply used it to make a spare key just so I can come here whenever I wanted to.” Haechan inhaled quietly. “But they also found out I used that method to gain access to other things... That’s as far as I want say.” For some reason, instead of freaking out, I sat there in silence, staring at him as I couldn’t move an inch. I didn’t know how to react. “That’s... Wow.” No matter how hard I tried to find words to say, those were the only two that came to mind. 

“If you use it for other things, why aren’t you getting a more severe punishment? We’re literally just serving detention hours when I thought I’d be doing community service for talking shit about Mister Low.” Haechan chuckled lowly, running a hand through his soft-looking hair. “You nit not worry about that.”

“What do you mean?” I whispered. “Mister Low is about to get fired since the other students in our History class are complaining to other teachers about how you’re right and that he really couldn’t teach. Word gets around in the teachers’ office and so.” Haechan bobbed his shoulders, not needing to complete to full sentence as I already got the memo. “And I have my own ways for settling my problems.” He was saying the same thing he said to the security guard that morning. “How, exactly?”

“The world is tipped in favour of the rich and powerful. Don’t you think?” Haechan smirked widely along with a giggle. “You use money to get what you-” 

“Calm down. I was just joking. I wanted to make your story more interesting.” Haechan laughed. He began packing his things up, slinging his bag on one shoulder. “My time here is up so ciao.” Haechan said in an instant, as if wanting to get away as fast as possible while trying to look casual. He walked away, lifting a hand up and waving it while using the other to open the door and left. The room was met with utter silence. “What the hell just happened?”

For the rest of the day I couldn’t help but wonder if his words were true. What else could he have done with 3D printer? What if it was something more than just replicating classroom keys? He said it was just to help with my writing, but what if it was actually true?

I never got Haechan out of my mind as I took reference from the points I’ve taken down while he talked to me for my writing. It helped, nonetheless. I had a flow of a proper plot. However, I was not fully satisfied with it. The way Haechan structured his words were weird, the possibility that there’s more to it got glued to my mind and was the main topic of my thoughts every day. 

One afternoon, I chose to stay back at the library to do my assignments. I had the sudden motivation to be productive at school. While making my way there, I passed by a dark corner. I stopped in my tracks and walked back, as for a split second I thought I had seen a shadow of some sort. Indeed, I was right. Two people were standing there to be exact. I was all too familiar with one of their figures, noticing that it was Haechan. The other I assumed to be a regular student. They stood at the furthest end of the dark hallway. Anyone could have walked past and not realise anything. I hid myself behind the wall, my head peeking out just a little that only my eyes could be seen. 

“I need more.” I heard the student beg. Haechan folded his arms, weight shifting from one leg to the other. “Can’t do. You’re lucky you bought my notes. It should be enough for the test.” Haechan whispered, leaning in towards him. The student looked down at the plastic bag, eyes staring at it for a moment before slowly trailing them up to meet Haechan’s. The student let out a defeated sigh, holding the bag up in front of him. “Pleasure doing business with you.” He bid Haechan goodbye, shoving one hand into his pocket while letting the bag hang on the index finger of his other hand that fell down to his side. With a leaned back posture, he slowly made his way out of the hallways. With quick and brisk steps, I speed walked forward, turning a corner and hiding there till he walked past. 

I decided to stay there, cautious as to whether Haechan was about to walk past as well. However, I heard his footsteps, but they weren’t coming to my direction. I peeked my head out of the corner once again, this time a little further with confidence of him not coming my way. Haechan was walking towards the opposite direction. I wasn’t sure what drew me into doing so, but I decided to follow him. Where I ended up was seemingly unexpected. 

I was steps away from the door. Tilting my head upwards, I was met with the sign above the door. Music room. I’ve only been here once, to interview the student that was about to perform solo for a concert we had last year to showcase the performing art curriculum. I slowly made my way to the door, the window giving me a clear view of the room. I looked in, seeing Haechan sitting  by the piano. His fingers hovered above the keys, just like how mine would float above the keyboard when I had no idea what letter to press. I couldn’t see his face due to his hair that covered till his eyes. 

Either way, I gulped and placed my hand on the handle, pushing it down and going in while clearing my throat. Haechan shot his head up from the piano and to me with a blank expression. I quickly closed the door behind me and awkwardly placed the hand behind my head. “Hey. It’s our second time meeting.” Haechan greeted, letting his forearm rest on edge of the fall board, leaning his upper body. I hummed as I slowly sidled my way up to him. “It is.” I simply said.

“So why are you here? Did you follow me?” Haechan asked, tone filled to the brim with suspicion as he squinted his eyes on me. I opened my mouth, but words couldn’t come out. I wasn’t able to speak as I tried to come up with an excuse. “I- Uh was headed to the library when I walked past and saw you in here.” 

“So? You have no reason to want to come in here.” Haechan replied dryly. I mentally rolled my eyes. I felt as if I couldn’t keep up a conversation with him without wanting to burst due to his rudeness. He had no reason to be this cold towards me. Does he always have to be like this?

“The libraries in the opposite block. Our classrooms aren’t even here.” Haechan breathed out, eyes scanning across the keys of the piano before shooting up to me. “What’s your actual reason coming here?” Haechan’s voice grew lower with each word till it became a faint whisper. His eyes were piercing into me deadly, as if I was meeting the grim reaper that’s about to take my soul. Once again I tried to speak but I couldn’t. Even if I did, I would be slurring through my words as I didn’t know myself why I chose to follow him here. 

“I... I want to know more about you.” I blurted out. I wanted to give myself a smack in the head. I sounded too weird, like a stalker. I had millions of other ways to phrase that but I chose to be too straightforward. Haechan jerked his head, hissing when he puffed his chest up as he inhaled. “Do you like me?”

“What? No. Why would you even-” “You wouldn’t have followed me all the way here if you weren’t interested. This is the first time I’ve seen you having the urge to talk to me.” Haechan cocked an eyebrow in my direction, to which I responded with a loud huff of amusement. “My intention was to know what else you are doing with that 3D printer of yours for my story.” I stated, matter-of-factly. I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. 

“You’re a writer. Aren’t you suppose to be creative?” I took a deep breath. Breathe, just breathe. I was actually about to explode like a volcano that was about to erupt at any second. Why did he have to be so hard to talk to? On instinct, I slammed my hand on the keyboard, the loud sound coming from the keys I pressed down pierced through my eardrums. “Listen. It’s getting really fucking annoying to talk to you. Answer my questions, and I won’t needing to see you again.” 

Haechan had zero reaction to my words. It’s like he had a bullet proof screen in between us as I fired my words in anger. “Incorrect. We have another session of detention on Wednesday. Three hours to clear, and it’s just the two of us. Sounds fun, don’t you think?” My blood was boiling. With each second that passed, I bit my lower lip as I tried hard to not slap his face. “I highly doubt you’ll be a good enough student to attend anyways. Besides the damn point, just tell me what you’ve been doing with the printer.”

“You know some things should be kept private. Like I said before, you have no right to force it out of me.”

“But you were willing and gave me some information at that time.” I could tell in Haechan’s eyes that he was taken off guard, but he was able to skillfully bounced back. “Because I was kind enough to wanna help you with your writing.” At this point, we were constantly firing words at each in a matter of seconds. It was like a war zone, keeping our eye contact and never breaking it once, our voices growing higher with each comeback. 

“You know what? Fuck it. I’ll find out myself. Since you’re unwilling to tell me anything at all, it must mean that you have something going on. I’ve already been suspicious of you from the start.” I stormed my way to the door. Forcefully grabbing onto the handle, I turned around sharply as I muttered a “Watch out.” before walking out and slamming the door shut. I needed to put the story on hold. I won’t give up till I find out what Haechan’s onto. I had to know, I just had to. To satisfy myself with solving a mystery that I unconsciously got myself into. 

The very next day, I chose to get to school earlier than I normally would. If I wanted to discover what Haechan was doing, I had to be ahead of him. This was just the start.

When I reached my classroom, I looked down the hallway., my eyes slowly looking up to the sign of Haechan’s class and back down. Absentmindedly, I took small and wary steps, walking up to his class. I glued myself to the walls when I got there. My mind slowly began to wonder why was I even digging deeper into this trivial matter that wasn’t even any of business. Perhaps it was due to me  not being able to complete the story myself, losing all my creativity in one go and I have yet to know why. Or was it perhaps because I was curious as to who Haechan was? I’ve only see Haechan as someone perfect to the eyes of society. It was only natural for him to not be perfect behind the shadows. Perhaps I wanted to know that he was human as well.

I peeked my head ever so slightly, just a few centimeters. I was quite shocked to see Haechan there, sitting at the back of the class. Just how early does this guy come to school? And for what? I saw another unfamiliar person stood next to him, hand on the edge of the table as he leaned forward. What I found to be the most weird and out of the ordinary was the fact that there was some kind of light being illuminated on the table. Due to the guy who was standing up, I couldn’t tell where the light came from. The dark classroom made this look a hundred time more eerie than I expected it to be. 

“We need to do this quick.” I heard Haechan’s mutter. He was attempting to keep his voice down. He looked extremely cautious ad he kept looking out the window. I had to pull my head away and rely on my ears for information. He was too skeptical of his surroundings. “Chill. It’ll be done in ten minutes. You know how fast this baby works. When are you going to do it?” The other male spoke in a normal voice, which make Haechan groan and let out a loud “Shh.”

“Keep your fucking voice down. No one should be hearing about this. Especially her.” I heard the male scoff. “Ah that girl...” Was the last I’ve heard. I slowly peeked my head out once again. “Maybe after detention on Wednesday. I don’t know.”

“Well you better be quick.”

They were both looking at whatever was on the table. It was dark but the light coming form it didn’t help me recognise it at all. From what I could infer, it was probably a machine of some sorr, from the way the other male called it “baby”. Was it the 3D printer? I had no solid evidence that it was. What was Haechan going to do? I was indeed clueless. But was Haechan referring to me?

Throughout the school day, I had my eyes on Haechan the whole time, watching his every move. Where he went, what he did, who he talked to. I was all eyes and ears on him. He didn’t seem to be doing anything weird. And the school was back to normal too. Girls were back to screaming his name wherever he showed up, he was back to being the all-rounder student he was. I still doubt he was an all-rounder at all. Maybe a deformed one. A deformed all-rounder. Well, that was new.

“Sorry guys but I have to stay a little while to spy on Haechan. Head home without me.” I said to the gang as we walked down the hall, on our way to the main gates. Lucas stopped, making Yiung and Mina do the same. “If you get more information, you should tell it to the school’s press. Who knows? Your story on Haechan could be a hit.”

I thought about it for a second. And for awhile I was starting to consider. I could simply put the author and Haechan as anonymous. It’ll send the school to an uproar, desperately wanting to know the identities of the people involved. On top of that, I missed the feeling of investigating and trying to gather information. It was something I did often as a writer for the newspaper. It felt good to have that surge of constant curiosity as more factors come to play the more you find out, and more questions that had to be solved slither out.

“I actually might consider it.” I said, the side of my lip rising just a little. I sent them off to the main gate and waved them goodbye. One thing I instantly realised was that I completely missed Haechan. I forgot to keep track of him and now I didn’t know where he was. I groaned silently as headed back in school. The first place I checked was his classroom. Of course he wasn’t there. Lights turned off, door and windows locked. Not a single person on sight.

The next place I checked was the music room. Lord and behold, he was there. Again sitting by the piano. This time, he was scribbling onto what I assumed was a music sheet. He was doing it in a rather furious matter, which got me worried for second. Suddenly, Haechan threw the pencil on the floor, screaming at the top of his lungs and slamming his head on the piano. Out of pure shock and instinct, I opened the door and ran up to him.

“Are you okay?! Why the hell you do that?!” I sat down the the empty space beside him and held onto his cheeks to lif his face up. His eyes fluttered open slowly, my hands feeling the warmth of his cheeks. “And what are you doing here again?” He said in a tired and hoarse voice. His eyes trailed downwards to my hands. For some reason, I didn’t let go. My hands were still against his skin which felt extremely soft. Something about this made my heart skip a beat. Why was I feeling this way? That for a split second my hands cupped his face perfectly, like were meant to be there.

“Having fun keeping your hands there?” Haechan broke me out of my thoughts with his words. I quickly pulled away, rubbing my palms on my shirt awkwardly. “You seem to always show up and meeting me here.” I gulped, avoiding eye contact as I tried to look everywhere else but him. “You seemed to be stress.” I said, making a poor attempt at changing the topic. I could tell from his soft and short breath of laughter that he knew what I was doing, but decided to go along with it mumbling a, “Yeah. I was.”

“With what?” Haechan didn’t give an answer. He blankly stared down to his lap before smacking his lips and jerking his head up to the music sheet thatw as propped up. “Just like how you write stories. I write songs. And just like you, my brain does not want to function at all to come up with something.” Haechan sighed ever so softly.

Silence settled in the space between us. We were simply there, not a word exchanged as I let his sink in. Were we the same? Though I find that hard to believe, I felt it. His struggle. I could feel it from outside the room moments ago. Haechan slowly brought his fingers up to the piano. Starting to press a key, he began to play.

Though I wasn’t a piano player or an expert in any way, it didn’t take me long to realise that he wasn’t comfortable sitting on this very piano, like how his fingers weren’t meant to make contact with the surface of the white, lagging and messing up a few notes that made whatever he played sound improper. He was out of place. Yet, the produced a beautiful twenty or so seconds of music. Despite the slip-ups, it sounded amazing. But he wasn’t playing with feeling. He was emotionless, stagnant.

“That’s all I have.” Haechan chuckled weakly. I frowned. “It sounded fine.” I whispered softly, eyes not leaving his fingers that rest itself on the keys. “Fine, but not great. Not meaningful. I didn’t feel anything while playing that. And that’s the worst part of it.” Haechan was biting his lower lip. His eyes were being welled up with tears. He quickly wiped them away.

“Don’t cry. I’m not the type that knows how to comfort people.” I laughed softly, trying to joke around to lighten the mood. Haechan responded with a small laugh, making me smile with sincerity. “It’s fine.” He simply said.

“I get what you mean. I’ve been feeling that too. Got the general idea but never know where to go from there. The creativity’s run out and I’m left with nothing. I’ve lost the urge to do what I love most.” I fiddled with my fingers on my lap, head tilted down. The room got quiet instantly. We were just sitting there in silence, deep in thought as we let ourselves sink into our complicated yet somehow similar situations.

How did I even up here? Sitting down and having a deep conversation with Haechan. Why was I feeling the connection with him? The connection of similarity as we felt each other’s pain. How did it only take one observation of Hechan playing for me to see the emptiness and hole that dug around him? I came here wanting to know his hidden secrets, digging into his weird behaviour beyond the light that he always stood in. But I guess there were aspects of him that were more hidden, and he chose to show this side to me.

It’s funny how we opened up to each other, not knowing each other at all. We were practically strangers. People that we only see as we walked by very occasionally. We weren’t someone that would be engraved in our minds the moment we saw each other. But it probably gave us a sense of escape, thinking that it was better for us to open up to someone who barely knew us so they wouldn’t judge who we were. I guess that was more coherent for Haechan.

Our class was the first few to arrive at the cafeteria since our English teacher is one of the very few that releases us on time. I decided not to have lunch since I didn’t feel like eating. Or maybe I was but too lazy to get any food. Only a few hours of school have passed and I was already walking like a dying corpse on my way here. I looked down and used my phone, continuing the read the online book I just purchased recently.

Suddenly, a bunch of high pitched wailing and shouting was heard. I tilted my head up and followed the noise. I expected it. Haechan, walking into the cafeteria, confident as ever, owning it all. He had such a bright smile. It’s as if the deep and lost Haechan I saw just yesterday disappeared entirely, a simple ‘poof’ and it’s gone by the wind. He waved to his other friends at the table which was just a few tables apart of ours with excitement, walking with long strides. I couldn’t believe just how thick Haechan’s mask was. After seeing him yesterday, I couldn’t help but wonder so long how those two completely different sides of him become one in his being. It was hard to picture. It was such a drastic difference that it became too hard to visualise it in my head.

“Look at Jaemin being all flirty with her.” Mina came up from behind and gagged as she jerked her chin to the direction I was looking at. However, I adverted my focus from Haechan to Jaemin. A girl was standing very closely behind Jaemin, occasionally trailing her fingers in a teasing manner down his shoulders. Jaemin bobbed his shoulders, shooting a glare that luckily she didn’t notice. However, he turned around and quickly flashed a soft smile to cover up his annoyance towards her. His action made me laugh and chuckle softly. “I don’t think he’s enjoying it.”

“Just how can he look so normal after what he did? I still can’t believe it.”

“What are you talking about?”

I grew silent, not wanting to explain the situation I had with Jaemin. It was a far distant memory which should be kept out of my mind and away from me, something I wouldn’t have the courage to face. I was over it, but I’d never want to encounter it again. It’ll send me down the loophole again, and that is something I’d much prefer not to remember and go through again.

Lucas raised a brow. “Hello?” He asked, trying to get our attention. Mina cleared her throat after swallowing her bite of food. “Ah you weren’t here when it happened. It’s fine. We shouldn’t be talking about it.”

“It’s a story for another time.” I lied, blurting it out.

I looked down to my phone once again as the our table grew quiet and ate in peace. As if thrown an asteroid was thrown from space, an object went flying to the side of my head, hitting it hard. It didn’t hurt that much, but it was so sudden that I couldn’t help but wince from the attack. “What the hell was that?!” I half-shouted, my brows furrowed with confusion, scrunching up my face as I picked up the object that landed beside me.

Everyone had their heads up and towards me with looks of concern. “Are you okay?! What hit you?” Yiung brought her hand up to caress my head softly where it hit. I brought the object up to my face. “Pack of grapes...?” I whispered, blinking my eyes rapidly. I scanned my eyes around the area near me, wanting to know who threw it at me. Oddly enough, Haechan had his head poking out from the table. He was looking at me, and urging me to look at the grapes. I shot him a weird look and trailed my eyes down to the grapes. It had a note.

“Why aren’t you eating? You still have detention later. See you soon.” I read the small note that was taped to the plastic wrapper to myself, mumbling. I lifted my head up to Haechan, noticing that he was already back to talking to his friends happily, laughing away. “Who threw you that?” Mina asked. I stared at the note for a moment, reading over his words and imagining his voice. I shake my head and looked back to Mina. “Must be a secret admirer.” I joked. They didn’t have a big reaction to this and continued with what they were doing with a shrug. I didn’t want them to know that I was getting close to Haechan.

Either way, getting free snacks was always a bonus. I didn’t hesistate to open the wrapper and plopped a grape into my mouth. Throughout the rest of lunch while shoving a grape into my mouth immediately each time I swallowed one, my eyes were glued to Haechan. Though he wasn’t fully visible due to his other friends crowding around him, it was as if he’s the only one in my view, with everyone else fading away.

I hadn’t forgotten my agenda. I still had to know more about Haechan’s secret that was about to unfold after I remembered that he was going to do something after detention later. If it’s going go help me write my story, I’d want to know as much as possible.

I made my way to the detention room, lazily opening the door. Haechan was seating somewhere near the back, deeply concentrated with writing something and wearing his Airpods. I looked over to the woman who laid back in her seat as she played with her phone. I nodded my head as I took in the situation, walking up to sit beside Haechan.

“What are you doing?” I asked Haechan while sliding the straps of my bag off my shoulders and putting it on my lap, only to find Haechan not hearing me at all as he continuously nodded his head to whatever song he was playing. I reached out to poke him on the shoulder with my index finger, making him flinch at the sudden action and removing one side of his Airpods immediately. He leaned back as he realised that he was looking at me. “Oh you’re here.” Haechan smiled softly, proceeding to continue writing. I moved my head a little to notice that he was writing notes again.

“Selling more notes? What are you, an illegal business?” Haechan responsed with a chuckle, placing his pen down and facing his body to me. “Perhaps I am. It’s not like I can get caught though.” He shrugged and placed a fist to his cheek, resting his head against it and leaning sideways. “But what did you get caught for?” I copied his posture, sending him a cheeky smile.

Haechan scoffed and shake his head. “Can’t say. How many times do I need to drum it in your head?” Haechan threw a sharp glare my way, exasperated. “If you don’t tell me, at least help me with my story.” I said, unintentionally sounding desperate as a slight tone of begging shined through my words.

“You really have lost your creative touch, huh?” Haechan faked his amusement. He already knew that from the time we were in the music room. “And you can’t write your songs either. So you’ve lost it as well.” I smiled grew bigger and more mischievous, giggling ever so softly. “If you want, maybe you can use the 3D printer to print a world of your imagination. And when you finish making it, it becomes a real place for you to go and release yourself from reality.” Affer unlocking my laptop and waiting for it to start up, I looked to him after he said that, but his eyes and hands were concentrated on making his notes.

“Is it because that’s what you want to do?” I asked softly, opening up Google Docs and seeing my long paragraphs of nothingness. It meant nothing. They were simply words to be displayed on the screen. I read it over while I waited for Haechan’s answer. It was bland, nothing like the ones that I wrote with much enthusiasm and drive. It disappointed me how I could stoop this low to such a level, to the point where I was slowly loosing interest in what kept up my sanity all these years.

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that?” Haechan stared into my eyes, pausing for a moment. “It’s your book that you’re writing. You need to make it personal somehow. You can’t always be relying on me as your direct source of idea.” I thought about it, long and hard, his words resonating in my head again and again as I tried to force myself to think deeper. “What if I can’t make it personal? What if I don’t know what’s personal to me, I don’t know who I am...” My two fingers played with the touch pad of my laptop, scrolling up and down mindlessly.

“Use my idea as inspiration. What can happen when you build and enter that fantasy world made by a 3D printer?”

“The entrance collapses and I get trapped there forever.” Haechan smiled. It was a small, almost transparent, but sincere smile, painted on his face. “There you go. You have a conflict to write about now.” I instantly typed down the information in point form so that I could elaborate on it. As much as I got the energy and adrenaline to start writing now, I wanted to focus on another matter. For some reason, I just wanted to know.

“How’s your song doing?” He avoided my eyes, licking his lips, seeming to be deep in thought, trying to construct a sentence. “I’m thinking of abandoning it to be honest.” Haechan said in a nonchalant manner. He can’t actually not be bothered by it. I saw it. His frustration, stress, the negative energy that centered around him in the music too. He can’t actually want to do that.

“But it sounded good.”

“I just need a fresh start. Who knows, I might come up with something better... Hopefully.” He dragged on the last part slightly, the tint of of doubt flowed through his unstable voice. He sighed loudly, pressing his fingers on both sides of his temples. “I’d ask for your help, but I’m guessing you aren’t exactly creative in this art form.” I nodded my head agreeably, though I felt the embarrassment.

“We’re going to be stuck here for a long time.” I said with a bored sigh, dragging on the word ‘long’ for emphasis. Haechan laughed at my statement. “I don’t think we’d have to stay here long.” I turned my head to him, an eyebrow arched. “Why’s that?”

Haechan pulled his chair close to mine and leaned in, close to my face. “We’ll get to go out once something to do. Which is what happens every day.”

Though I was listening, I couldn’t help but notice just how close Haechan was to my face. Too close, than a normal person would when wanting to whisper something. My heart began to race and my breath hitched in my throat. I looked at his eyes, ones that had so much emotions and feelings that can never be expressed, helplessly trapped, then to this nose, and finally his lips, soft and lushes, one that’s disconnected to his brain, inability to say what he thinks and needing to think twice to protect his reputation. Yet, it was all perfectly structured, carefully and beautifully, no matter how much he might be going through. I never realised how good looking he was till now. And it felt like a huge crime seeing it now.

“Are you hearing me?” Haechan whispered. I lifted my gaze from his lips and back up to his eyes. But it was now he who had his eyes down. I followed them, and they were on my lips. “Y-Yeah. I was.” Haechan instantly pulled away after a moment, chuckling awkwardly or shyly as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I don’t get the use of detention. It’s not going to change us, no matter how long we stay here for.”

“This school really doesn’t manage us properly yet our reputation is still high on the list.”

“Maybe it’s because of you and your friends.” I said, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “Is a school’s reputation depended heavily on the looks of students?” Haechan scoffed, huffing as he ran a hand through his hair. “That’s shallow.”

“It’s the world we live in.” I simply stated.

“Oh, she left.” Haechan turned his head, and I followed along. The woman have left the room. I was shocked at the fact that we didn’t even notice. Haechan and I turned our heads to each other in unison, laughing. “Looks like we have the place to ourselves.”

Though you would think that we’d be going crazy and having a party of two while blasting music through the room’s speakers, the room was quiet. Haechan was silently listening to music while doing his notes and I typed away on my laptop, the satisfaction of the sound being produced at a fast rate. I wore my headphones too. I jumped and turned when I felt a tap on my arm.

“Hm?” I asked, taking off one side. “Should we just go?”

I paused for a moment with hesitation and contemplation, but it didn’t take long for me to blurt out, “Let’s please do so.”

We ended up going to the cafeteria. Haechan offered to buy me whatever snack I wanted. Was it bad to say that I am surprised at his generosity? It was weird in a way, I never thought of him as someone like he is now. If I could describe Haechan, he was like a book. One with a cover that was plain, unoriginal, stereotypical. You’d read the synopsis and think “The story plot is too expected.” But it’s not. The plot, characters and words change entirely, opening the reader to a whole new world that was definitely outside the box. And the more time I spent with Haechan, the more pages I flipped and read, new words and phrases pop up every which way. He slowly opened up, showing me that there was more to his all-rounded nature that he held. 

“Why are we here at the garden when we can go in the library? I’m desperate for the air condition.” I walked beside Haechan and pointed to the library just a few steps away from the small garden we were headed. Haechan skipped his way down the pathway to the one bench table that was surrounded by plants and flowers. 

“I like it here. Being surrounded by books can drive me insane.” I laughed at his comment, sitting down on the opposite end. I placed the snacks on the table, Haechan doing the same as we opened our snacks and took a bite in silence. “We should do this more often.” 

“Do what?”

“This. Impromptu hangouts. It’s... fun, refreshing.” Haechan whispered, looking up and sighing softly with his eyes closed. He opened his eyes, locking them with mine as I hummed in response, still chewing. “Refreshing.” I repeated back to myself, nodding my head. “Actually... I have an idea. A present, if you will.” I took out my notebook from my bag, flipping through a few pages till I reached the page where it had notes. I placed it on the table and pushed it forward. 

“In a way it’s a thank you gift. For helping me write again. You didn’t even say much but it made me think and turn my gears.” Haechan brought his head close to the notebook, his eyes scanning very slowly over each line. Haechan looked up, mouth opened but I decided to continue before he could say anything. 

“At first my words were meaningless. The story was leading to nowhere and I had no idea where I was going, no road, no guidance. But you unintentionally, but also intentionally later on gave me ideas. A shoulder I could lean on, something I could depend on. I don’t think I have the need to dive in deeper into whatever shit you’re doing. I’ll respect the fact that you don’t want to share.”

“These are song lyrics...” Haechan whispered, holding to the edge of the page with his index and middle finger. He was completely silent and frozen, as if my words had hit him right in the heart like an arrow. “They’re... so me.” He said simply, a short chuckle leaving his lips. 

“I noticed a few things about you. One, you really aren’t like what you seem to be. Living the perfect life with friends, grades, popularity. Everyone would think you had it all. I, however, started viewing you from a different angle, a new perspective. I didn’t even have to know what you hide to know that you’re transparent.”

“It shocked me, really. It sounds cliché, I know. But you are the one that has a cliché life.” Haechan and I laughed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. It’s a trade. You to me, and me to you.” Haechan’s eyes lifted off the paper. We didn’t say a word. Instead, we let our eyes do the talking, the most bare and deepest sense on our expression. “Eyes are the gateway to your soul.” I really felt it. He was stripping me bare with his stare. Nothing was left to hide between us. And this all happened in the span of just a few weeks. 

Time flew by in a blur. The thought of Haechan’s mystery that I delved so deep into became a distant memory. I never really got to know the truth. Maybe I was being too skeptical about it and perhaps it was just a simple matter that Haechan could not share. We went along with the pact of going on impromptu outings. One of us would text the other during the last period and go out immediately after school just to hang out and have each other’s presence to admire. We’d never talk in school. We wouldn’t greet each other if we walked by in the hallways. Our lives were completely separated in the school’s setting, as if we’ve never made a single contact, like our lives had never crossed paths. In simple words, strangers. 

Today’s outing was at a cafe. We decided that this week, we’d travel around the city and go cafe hopping, visiting a new cafe and try out places we have never went to. I was utterly shocked when I found out that Haechan had never visited the cafe that I was extremely obsessed with. Despite the place being on the other end of town, the drinks and desserts are worth the trip.

“What would you recommend?” Haechan asked, the two of us looking at the menu above the counter while we sat down on the table. “I love their red velvet cheesecake. Oh! And caramel frappé.” I said with a happy giggle, tapping my feet in excitement as I already envision the delicious dessert on the table in front of me.

“You love cheesecakes that much?” Haechan gave an amused laugh. I nodded with a gleeful hum. “It’s my all time favourite dessert!” Haechan glanced down and shook his head, a smile shying through. “Get something else while I try the cheesecake. We need the variety.” Haechan pressed his fingers together as if pinching something, puckering his lips as he mimicked the popular meme. I bursted out laughing at his weird act. “Alright, alright. I’ll get the chocolate soufflé.”

I brought out my wallet from my pocket. Before I could even slide a note out, Haechan gripped my wrist and closed my wallet shut. He didn’t need to say a word, holding up his own wallet and jerking his head to it before turning around to walk away. I sighed, a slight frown forming on my lips. He’s always been paying. It always made me feel bad. I’d be at the edge on loosing all my money yet I’d still have that urge to pay.

Haechan was waiting by the counter for the food. He turned around. I abruptly locked my eyes with his, absentmindedly not realising that I had my eyes on his back the whole time. Haechan threw me weird and goofy faces to my way, quietly laughing while his shoulders bobbed. I shook my head, once again getting second hand embarrassment. Though it wasn’t a bad thing at all. It brought me joy from his weirdness and humour.

Minutes later he came back, carrying two plates and going back to grab the drinks. He sat down after and clapped his hand once, looking down at the food as his mouth shaped an ‘O’ at the sight.

We ate, chat and laughed. There wasn’t a moment of silence. Our conversation flowed as smoothly as the waves on a peaceful day at the seashores. We’d be able to change topics so quickly that we didn’t even know how we ended up talking about roller coasters at amusement parks.

“Should we go anywhere else?” I questioned. Haechan raised both his brows and leaned forward. “Anything you want.”

The two of us looked up at the sky, painted with shades and tones from red to yellow and hints of purple shining through. The beautiful sunset that we caught today was certainly lucky. It’s not everyday a sunset can look this incredible and perfect to the eye. It was one of those moments when you just needed to silently bask in the sight, embracing the comfort it brings you before the sun fully sets and the night starts to settle in.

I heard the sound of grass moving. I took my attention off the sky and to Haechan, who had his phone out and going to his camera. He snapped a picture, taking the time to position his phone and making sure it captured the whole scenery. He turned to me, a smile plastered on his face. “Moments like these should be permanent.”

I turned back to the sky, my chin lifted up and I took in a deep breath, eyes closed, taking in every ounce of calmness and relaxation. I suddenly heard the sound of Haechan’s phone, signalling that he took a picture. I fluttered my eyes open, looking over to Haechan who had his phone faced to me.

“You are something that should be permanent too.”

As days inched closer and closer to exam week, Haechan and I started meeting less and less, which was to be expected. I was holed up in my room, getting on my study table immediately coming home after showering and having a light snack, not having a break till it was time to sleep.

The stress settled in, and I had to put off my writings. I wasn’t a genius who could multitask to such extremes. I’d eventually go insane. Though I already am with the amount of content I had to fit in my brain.

Knocking down one day at a time, exam after exam, we finally ended the week. It feels the same with every end of the year exams. You’re just stuck in that loop of studying and screwing your heads into textbook and notes. But once it’s all over, you go into complete shut down mode and your brain will grow rusty and not as functional and efficient over the holidays. And the cycle repeats once you start the new school year.

Funny enough, Haechan and I stopped going out together. You’d expect us to meet all the time due to the free time we’d have during the holidays. But for some reason we jusy didn’t contact each other. Maybe we were too concentrated with our studies that not having Haechan by my side became something neutral. I didn’t feel anything about it. It is what it is. We drifted apart, with no reason whatsoever.

I was laying down on my bed, thumb tapping on the screen at a fast rate as I skipped through everyone’s stories on Instagram. However, I immediately stopped when I got to Haechan’s stories. My thumb was pressed hard on the screen as I saw Haechan’s face. He was out with his friends, seemed to be like a party. I chuckled to myself in amusement.

Was Haechan just my dream? Just a short period of filled happiness that wouldn’t stay with me for long? Was he temporary? The moments I’ve spent with him flashed by me like a movie tape that lasted in a second. I overlooked at myself, my situation. I was helplessly staying at home. Being the homebody I am, I never really go out unless someone invited me to. Haechan’s out living his life, back to being the all-rounder, as if I’ve never been in his picture ever.

Months passed since school has started, and we never made contact since. We wouldn’t even smile to each other in the hallways. We were invisible to each other. We were back to simply being strangers. We were never in each other’s lives. We have never opened our hearts to each other. It felt like none of that happened, like none of it was even real.

The bridge made by Haechan that helped me to get back on track in my writing was still there, but the work he did to build it felt like nothing. Just like how no one remembers the fact that it was the workers that worked hard to build and construct the bridge. It just never came to mind anymore.

I just got home. Making my way to my bedroom and tossing my bag at the study table, plopping onto my bed and sinking my body into the soft sheets. I turned around, back on the bed as I took out my phone. The first notification I saw was a text from Haechan.

I instantly sat up from my laying posture, eyes narrowing to his name showing up on my lockscreen. I had to unlock my phone to see the message. I was blankly staring at it. Why did I suddenly feel nervous? I opened my phone, which immediately brought me to iMessage.

Haechan: if you’re free, text me and head to the Winstar park

I tilted my head at this. I gulped, bringing my thumbs up to the screen. However, it was hovering over the key pad, not sure of what to type. I realised that I was being too cautious as if I needed to make a good impression through the text, when all I had to do was type a simple, “Sure. Meet you in an hour.” I exhaled sharply and got off my bed. I tossed my phone on the bed and started to get ready to head out.

While I stared out to the window on the bus, the city came to view. High skyscrapers, high end shops and buildings, bustling and busy as ever. But the bus drove past it. Immediately the scenery changed. It was quiet, not a lot of people to be seen. Only the sound of leaves and branches swaying in the calm wind.

Perhaps that’s why Haechan and I liked the park so much. The silence it held gave us a moment of distraction out of our lives filled with much complexity and complication. Our time together wasn’t energy draining. We had each other to thank for that, but it was also the absence of the fast moving pace of the world that gave us a time of rest, peace. Even if it was for a short period of time, the feeling is still there, though it’s being suppressed by other by our realities.

I came walking through the park’s entrance. My legs walked me to where Haechan and I used to sit when we last came here. I didn’t even have to think for my body to be drawn to him. His back came to view. He wore a black leather jacket and jeans. His brown hair glowing under the sunlight.

On one end, I felt the need to just run up and embrace him fully. It felt like a calling, a sudden need. However, I also felt hesitant to even take one step closer. What if we weren’t as close as we used to be? What if the Haechan I knew isn’t in front of my eyes right now? Anything can happen within the span of months. People change.

That dilemma and contemplation made me stand in my spot for far too long. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Haechan as my gears began to turn, more doubts floating up from the depths of my overthinking. What I didn’t notice till now was the fact that he had a guitar case beside him.

I shut my eyes for a moment, hands clenched tightly by my sides as my chest puffed up while taking a deep silent breath. Just do it.

I tapped Haechan on the shoulder lightly, making him jump and turn around. “You took forever.” He said, flashing a smile. At least that didn’t change. It still sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach like it did last time. It made my heart ache in the best ways possible.

One look in his eyes and a whole tsunami of our memories came crashing and attacking my mind and heart. It flashed through my eyes. Every little moment, though it may seem meaningless to some, was what made my whole relationship with Haechan gain its meaning.

“Sorry about that.” I simply said. He placed the guitar case on his lap, motioning with his free hand to take the empty space next to him. I sat down, the two of us met with comfortable silence for about a minute.

“How was your exams?” I asked, not being able to handle the fact that we weren’t talking. “Great. Except for Chemistry. I can never do it.” He chuckled, shaking his head while smiling to himself on the floor. “Could’ve asked me. I aced it.” I bragged, flipping my hair with much sarcasm which made him arch a brow. “I could have. But I didn’t want to bother you.”

“At that period of time, I wished you had bothered me.” I bit my bottom lip. His eyes narrowed down on me. “Really, now?”

Haechan’s phone suddenly dinged. He took it out of his pocket. With one glance he scoffed loudly and shoved it back in. I gave him a weird look. “Just another girl texting me. It’s the fifteenth this week. I’m lazy to delete their messages.” Haechan shrugged lightly.

“Anyways, I asked you to come here for a reason.”

“You never did anything without a reason.”

“But you do. Always showing up coincidentally at where I’m at.”

“That was last year. Stop talking about it.” I punched Haechan lightly on his arm as the two of us giggled in unison. I missed this. Why did I have anything to fear? It felt as if we’ve met up just yesterday.

“You’re going to be the first person who hear this. And for your information, you should be thankful. When an artist plays their song for the first person to hear, it means that they value them a lot.” Haechan whispered after his laughter died down. Slowly, he took out his guitar from its case. He placed it on his lap. It fits and settled right on his lap perfectly.

I pressed my hands on my thighs as I waited for him to adjust a few things on his guitar. Looking up, I noticed the shades of orange and yellow coming into view. The sunset, again, was just as beautiful as last time we were here. It really did feel like nothing has changed, as if that very day had repeated itself and teleported me to this very moment.

I heard Haechan strumming the guitar once, making me turn to him instantly. He took in a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment for looking down on the guitar and placing his fingers on the right strings.

He began to play. The strum pattern was simple yet calming. Then came in his voice. True enough, I’ve never heard him sing, ever. To hear his voice washing over me like a huge wave, I felt the goosebumps on my arms, my face tightened and my breathing stopped for a moment. His voice was beautiful. It’s one that you can listen while you fall asleep. The perfect lullaby.

I noticed how he sang the lyrics I made with very little knowledge of lyric writing, yet it still sounded as if it was made by him. He made those lyrics of mine his own with his voice. I smiled softly as we looked to each other, he sang his heart out, full of emotion and love. His talent, passion, everything came up to the surface with just a short song. He ended the song with “This world is better with you around.” Which hit an arrow right on my heart. My heart ached in the most best way possible. The feeling of my heart sinking as I tried to absorb all that beauty.

“So do you like it?”

My words were at a lost. I had no idea what to say, what to think. The mixed emotions surrounded around me like a whirlpool. I had a lot of things to say, but I also didn’t, not having a clear idea to speak about. He probably noticed me simply being awestruck, retrieving his eyes back to the sunset that was already about to come down and welcome the night sky.

“That was my gift to you. I’m sorry, for not talking to you for so long. For a moment I thought you were just my escape, someone that could give me freedom whenever I wanted. But I didn’t forget you, I couldn’t.” Haechan exhaled sharply, a frown forming on his lips.

“I was able to find my way back to my love for writing songs, singing. I didn’t have to knock my head against the wall trying to figure out what lyrics to write. I was stuck and I thought I had hit a dead end. I know you’d be thinking I just gave you lyrics. But what I’m thankful for was the fact that the lyrics matched me so well. It’s as if you dug out all the thoughts that were shoved and hidden at the back of my mind. Like you knew me inside out.”

Haechan turned his head slowly to me. I opened my mouth, but no words could come out. They were all stuck in my throat. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. You’re part of this gift exchange is your book. I mean I don’t like reading but I’d love to read yours. Me to you, and you to me.”

So, did I ever find out about Haechan’s secret? No, not at all. Turns out it was all a lie he came up just to play with me. The more important thing is the fact that I finished writing my book.

The deformed all-rounder; the story of transparency and the lost that was to be found. It all started when a 3D printer came to doorstep of a boy. He didn’t know what it was used for but he knew how 3D printers worked. But this one worked, quite uniquely. It could made things you thought weren’t possible, like a world.

So he made his own. One that was filled with happiness and joy, no fear and negative energy to be found. It was his own little world, what he wanted his reality to be. He went in, and though he enjoyed the days there, his heart shattered to pieces when the door back for reality crumbled down. He was trapped in a world filled with too much joy and glee. It was suppose to be a place brightness and everlasting greatness. But it didn’t feel anything like that. It was lonely. He eventually grew crazy due to the overdose of seeing butterflies and rainbows every which way.

Then came a girl who was the complete opposite of this world. Dark, mysterious, anger. Every negative feeling you could think of all in one person. The contrast between her and his world was drastic. How did she even end up in the world? Beats him. But she came strolling in with the most stuck up energy ever. It irritated him, of course. They never got along.

But slowly and surely, through harsh times of trying to get along with each other, they accepted the drastic difference. The world that revolved around the boy now began to take notice of this unknown girl’s personality. Further down the road, he realised that they were the same, a balance of good and bad. That was the reason why the gateway crumbled. There was no balance, no give and take of between the light and dark. With that solution, they were able to get out of the world.

He wanted to crush the 3D printer, never wanting to face it again so that he wouldn’t have to go through whatever that had just happened. However, he chose not to. Because it housed the memories of him meeting the girl that changed him entirely. His reality was a whirlpool of mess and obstruction, his printed world was seemingly perfect and filled with all things lovely. He could travel between the worlds, but there would be no point to it. As much as he could assume the world he made was perfect, he knew it wasn’t. It was made by a human. And humans were never perfect. She helped him see that there were bound to be rough edges, some only digging deeper than others.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Place Like This 1

Warnings: this short series will include dark elements including noncon, possible violence, mentions of mental illness, and other explicit content. I’m not your mother, curate your own consumption.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your new boarder isn’t who he seems to be.

Note: So I wanted to do a lumberjack!Andy and got a bit carried away but let me tell you, somehow Andy always turns into an ultimate creep with me.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It wasn’t often you found a stranger in Heron Creek. 

The small town was barely more than a single street; most residents lived further out. It was more a marketplace than anything. Townsfolk came to shop and socialise amid the limited stretch of businesses and not much else. The lumberyard fueled much of the economy and was closer than any home.

After weeks of arguing with your mother, you’d finally resigned. You needed a boarder to see you through the winter. Money was tight since your mother’s diagnosis; pills, therapy, reduced income. Your own job was just enough to see to the bills but not for the groceries or any incidentals. Even if you did some odd jobs around town, you wouldn’t be able to scrape enough to get by.

You’d never seen the man before. The message had been expected and a last hope. You agreed to meet at the town’s only cafe and were surprised and slightly disappointed. 

He greeted you by name as you looked around. You expected a woman; the advert had requested only females but, you supposed, that beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Andy,” He introduced himself as he offered you his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” You lied as you sat.

“You want a coffee? I’m headed up for a refill,” He grabbed his empty mug.

“Sure,” You reached for your wallet. You could tell by his accent he was from the city; if you were to guess, one far from Heron Creek. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can get it.” He waved you off as you fumbled with your purse. “I’ll be back.”

He returned with two cups and slid one over to you. You added cream from the table.

“I know you advertised for women only but… I’m kinda running out of options and judging by how long your ad’s been in the paper, I think you might be too.” He began.

“Uh huh,” You sipped from your coffee. “You’re new around here.”

“I am.” He confirmed. “But you’re not so you should know there’s not a lot to choose from.”

“Why would you move all the way up here?”

“Tired of the city.” He said evenly. 

“You have a job?” You asked.

“At the lumberyard.” He replied. “Been there two months now, living down at Harry Brennan’s but he’s ready to have me out.”

“Hmm, yeah, he can be a bit prickly,” You remarked. “My mother, too. She’s sick. Moody. You sure you wanna trade in one for the other?”

He looked at you. He sat with his shoulders back, his head held up proudly. His gaze was discerning, as if he was measuring your every word and move.

“I can pay more than you’re asking and I’ll help out around the house.” He said. “Well, I won’t decide until I see the place, of course, but I’m optimistic.”

You tasted the bitter coffee. You preferred your own brew. You nodded as you set down your mug.

“They don’t have many lumberyards in the city. What’d you do before?”

“I was a lawyer.” He said. “And what do you do?”

“A lawyer? You’d give up that to live in the middle of nowhere and chop wood?”

“It’s quiet up here. Peaceful.” He tapped his fingers on the table beside his gloves. “A few more months and I should be able to afford my own place. At least a plot to start building.”

You considered him and held your palm to the warm porcelain. Your mother was wary of men. You couldn’t make the decision without her.

“You didn’t tell me what you do.” He said.

“I’m a writer. Mostly pieces on the local species and whatnot. There’s not many jobs to be had around here but on the internet…”

“So?” He asked as he shifted in his chair.

“I’ll have to talk to my mother.” You answered. “Then maybe you can come check out the room. It’s a big enough place for three. Probably too big but there’s a lot of work to be done in the winter.”

“Right,” He said. “As I said, I’ll help out with anything I can.”

You squinted and gulped the coffee even though it burned your throat. You stood and gathered up your purse.

“I don’t mean to run out but I have to hit Marla’s.” You hooked the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll let you know before the end of the week, but… well, my mom isn’t an easy person to deal with. Not unless you’re related.”

“Got it,” He watched you placidly as he rose. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

🍂

You heard voices from the front porch. You blinked and set down the basket of warm laundry on the kitchen table as you sighed at your mother’s mug. There was still tea in it which meant she had taken her first chance to chase her innate stubborn streak.

You’d argued for much of the morning as she accused you of inviting a strange man into her home and you countered that you’d merely agreed to a look at the house. No decision had yet been made, though the only reason your mother entertained the notion was the desperately needed money. And that had been your only winning point of contention.

You didn’t want the strange man living in your space anymore than she did but you also realised that you couldn’t possibly go on as you were. You went to the door, the thicker one open as the screen door was the only shield from the bitter late autumn air. You heard the creak of your mother’s rocking chair and the deep voice of a man. You recognized it even after a single meeting.

“...hauling wood, ma’am.” Was all you caught as you peered through the mesh.

“So you work at the lumberyard? My husband worked there before he tucked tail,” Your mother ranted. “That was almost twenty years ago.”

“Just like every other man in the county,” You opened the door. “Ma, I’d be down there too if I hadn’t lucked out.”

“I’m sorry about your husband, ma’am.” Andy slipped in as he stood on the bottom step. 

“Don’t call me, ma’am,” Your mother rebuked. “I’m not that old just yet.”

Andy glanced at you and you touched the back of your mother’s chair and stilled it.

“It’s a nice looking house,” Andy broke the silence. “Big property.”

“All that bastard left me,” Your mother swore and leaned on the arm of her chair. “Well, aren’t you going to show the man around.” She pushed back so you were forced to let go of the chair or else sprain your wrist. “Take your shoes off, sir.”

You nodded and waved him up the steps with a wry smirk at your mother. You held open the door as he passed and your mother looked pleased with herself as she rocked again. You let the door clatter behind you as Andy bent to loosen his work boots. He stood as he kicked off his boots and you rubbed your forehead.

“I’m sorry about my mom.” You said. “She’s… stubborn.”

“Don’t you apologize for me, girl.” Your mom called through the screen door and you quickly closed the thicker one.

“Well, nothing too fancy,” You stepped past him into the front room. “Living room, dining room,” You waved your hand back. “Kitchen in the back, bathroom as you walk through and the laundry room just on the other side.” You lowered your arm and neared the stairs. “Your room would be up here.”

You turned and he followed you up the noisy old stairs. The carpet at the top was faded and tattered and did little to cushion the hard wooden floor as you walked along the hallway.

“My mother’s is at the end. Mine is to the left and yours is right here,” You opened the door next to yours. “Looks out onto the yard, so not the worst.”

“Mmm, okay,” He paced around the bed and went to the window. He felt the lace curtains as he gazed out through the glass.

“I’ll empty out the closet. Probably why it smells like mothballs.” You explained. “Pretty simple, we share the common spaces and clean up after ourselves.” You shrugged. “My mom will leave you alone as long as you don’t get in her way. She usually stays in her room if she’s not out front.”

“That’s fine. I won’t be here much.” He said. “Just really need a place to sleep.”

“There is one other thing. My mother...she has some issues. She gets manic and sometimes… well, I can take care of her but I don’t want you to be blind-sided. She’s on medicine but she’s still adjusting and--” You gulped. “It took me a lot of convincing but if you want the space, it’s yours, at least until spring.”

“I don’t have a lot of choices but I’d be happy to.” He said. “And don’t worry so much about your mother. I was a lawyer, I saw a lot worse in the courtroom.”

“Mmm,” You tucked your hands in your pocket. “Well, anytime after Sunday the room will be ready for you.”

“Sunday,” He repeated. “Okay, that works for me. Should I call ahead?”

“Uh, yeah, you have my number,” You replied and paused as you heard your mother hollering. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“I really hope it’s a squirrel and not a bear again,” You swept out of the room and stomped down the stairs. You went outside as your mother was tossing a stone and shouting at it, the wind chime tinkling and swaying from the porch. “Ma, it’s just a bird.”

“It damn nearly tore the chime off,” She sneered. “Your grandmother made me that.”

“I know, I know, just sit down.” You nudged her back to her chair. “You forgot your tea inside, do you want it?”

“My tea?” She blinked. “Oh, I forgot. Again.”

“It’s okay,” You patted her shoulder as you went back inside. Andy knelt as he pulled his boots back on.

“Everything okay?” He asked as he looked up at you.

“It’s fine,” You assured him. “Sometimes her meds make her a little jumpy. And forgetful.”

“Anything I can do?” He asked as he stood.

“Keep clear of her if you can,” You advised. “I’m not going to sugar coat it. She’s a lot to handle and she’s not very keen on men.”

“The latter I guessed,” He chuckled. “I’ll get out of your hair and see you next week.”

“Next week,” You confirmed as he pushed open the door. “Drive safe.”

“Thanks,” He called over his shoulder as he stepped out onto the porch. “I’ll be seeing you.” He said to your mother as he passed. “When I come back,” He stopped on the second step and you got closer to listen. “I can fix that feeder.” He pointed at the broken bird feeder under the tree. “If you like?”

“Oh,” Your mother grumbled. “Well, I think that… might be nice. As long as it keeps ‘em away from my chimes.”

“I think it will,” He smiled. “My-- I used to have a feeder just like that.”

Your mother was quiet as she stopped rocking. Finally she cleared her throat. “You have a nice day, sir.”

“You too,” He nodded and continued down the steps. 

You watched him go to his pick-up before you spun back and went to fetch your mother’s cup. You returned to the porch as he was backing out and you gave the lukewarm tea to your mother.

“Friendly,” She commented and took a sip. “The ones from the city usually don’t have such good manners.”

“Mhmm,” You grumbled. “Do you need me to warm that up?”

“Go on, girl,” She brushed you away. “I can stomach cold tea.”

🍂

Andy showed up on Monday. He called you the night before to let you know he’d be there and so you planned a trip into town with your mother to let him get settled. You waited until his truck pulled up, his tires crushing the pine cones and twigs as it neared. He got out and you handed him the spare key you had made. Your mother wore a parka and shivered in the car.

“We’ll be gone for a few hours,” You crossed your arms as you resisted the chill that nestled over the top of your scarf. “So you should be able to get settled in.”

“Thanks,” He turned the key over in his hand. “I’ll be discreet.”

“She’s in a good mood today. Well, until she starts complaining I left her in the car so long,” You rubbed your gloved hands together. “I’ll go. There’s logs by the fireplace in the living room. Heating downstairs isn’t so good but it makes a difference.”

“I’ll figure it out,” He assured. “You ladies have fun.”

“Ladies?” You arched a brow but he was hardly bothered. You nodded and left him.

You got in the jeep as your mother played with the radio and bemoaned the downfall of modern music. You shifted out of park and backed up as you tuned out her and Patsy Cline fizzling from the local station.

You went to Gerry’s, the only proper restaurant in town. Breakfast was often better than the evening’s affair and you showed up just in time for the lunch menu. Your mother gabbed with the waitress a little too long and you resisted apologizing on her behalf, knowing it would only sour her already brittle mood.

You ate and grabbed a pie from the display at your mother’s behest. She stopped by Geraldine’s thrift shop and bought another figurine for her collection; the porcelain wolves decorated her room and even some of the front room. You grabbed a few books you hadn’t read before and checked the time. You were certain you’d wasted enough time for Andy to get figured out.

As you drove back, the pale sky made the trees seem bleak in comparison. The first snow was imminent.

“You should make a nice dinner tonight.” Your mother said.

“Oh, I should?” You asked.

“I’m pooped. I gotta lay down.” She huffed. “But you always made a good chili. You can send that man off with a good lunch tomorrow if you make a big pot.”

“Mom,” You looked at her briefly. “You know his name.”

“I do. And that’s it.” She crossed her arms. “He seems nice enough but you never know. He’s not from around here.”

“No he’s not. But no one around here would pay what you want for that room.” You argued. “You’re lucky he’s from the city, they’re used to paying a fortune for shit.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“You said it was alright, ma. You agreed to it. It’s too late to send him off now.” You muttered.

“I like him,” She sneered. “I don’t like the way you look at him.”

“What?” You scoffed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“If I was younger, I wouldn’t turn my nose up at him. He’s handsome but I do wonder how he ended up here. You said he was a lawyer.”

“All sorts end up here, ma,” You countered. “Kenneth used to be an ad exec and now look at him; he sells sod and salt.”

“Still,” She rubbed her chin. “You’re young. When I was your age, well, if I had been alone all the time like you are, I’d be rearing to go.”

“Ma,” You were almost laughing. “You’re crazy.”

“That’s what the pills are for,” She retorted. “But I’m not blind.”

“Okay,” You said dryly as you rolled your eyes. “I think maybe I should be keeping my eye on you.”

“Ha, maybe I should give you a few pills,” She chuckled. “I’m not that mad.”

“Alright,” You gripped the steering wheel. “I’ll make chili but don’t go on about this in front of him. It’s gonna be weird enough.”

“Sure,” She harrumphed. “I’ll be good.”

🍂

As you took the lid off the deep pot, a billow of steam went up and the front door opened and closed. Your mother sat at the table after her nap and sipped on a hot tea. You listened to the floor groan as Andy stopped by the door and proceeded with lighter footfalls into the kitchen.

“I fixed the bird feeder,” He clapped his hands together. “Your chimes should be safe.”

“Oh, thank you,” Your mother beamed. “So sweet of you, Andy.”

“Not at all,” He said. “Simple work. Didn’t realise how much easier life is when you don’t have to think so much.”

He neared the table and grabbed the back of an empty chair. “You mind if I sit?”

“Go on,” Your mother was unusually chipper. “So how’d you fair? Got all your stuff unpacked?”

“Yep,” He answered, “Mmm, whatever you’re cooking smells good.”

“Chili,” You answered as you replaced the lid. “Twenty more minutes at most.”

“Chili. I remember--” He stopped and cleared his throat. You turned and watched him as he smoothed the front of his shirt, his fingers grabbing at the tie that wasn’t there. “I knew someone who used to make chili but it wasn’t chili chili. White beans and turkey… good but, I don’t think I’ve had real chili in forever.”

“You go down to Gerry’s on a Thursday and you’ll get some,” Your mother intoned.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Andy gave a small smile. “How was your day in town?”

You didn’t answer and looked to your mom. She frowned at you but quickly wiped it away.

“It was nice. You know, me and my daughter live together but we really don’t spend too much time together.”

“That’s great,” He said but barely seemed to see your mother as he watched you lean against the stove. “Well, hopefully I can help out some more and you can find more time for each other.”

“Uh huh,” You muttered. “Hopefully.”

🍂

That night, your mother went to bed and you retired soon after her. Andy had been quick to hide after dinner and you were thankful for that. You told him you’d set aside a container for his lunch and he was almost sheepish at the gesture.

You climbed up the stairs and slipped inside your room. The night was quiet and no moon floated above to shine in the windows. It was almost eerie. You changed into your pajamas and climbed into bed with your laptop. You turned off the lamp, content to type in the dark and eke out a few more paragraphs for your latest commission.

As the night wore on, only the tapping of keys filled your ears and you found yourself slumping lower against the headboard. You flipped onto your stomach and hugged the pillow as you tried to keep going, yawns blurring your vision as your body resisted your determination. 

You didn’t recall falling asleep but it was a haze of visions. Your head swirled with your mother’s voice and Andy’s deep blue eyes. A blizzard turned the landscapes white and a wolf’s howl made you shiver. 

You woke, still on your stomach, an arm beneath your pillow, and your laptop dead. You groaned as you rolled over. The grey light of dawn filled your room and the frigid air raised bumps on your skin as your blanket was twisted around you. 

A floorboard creaked along the hallway and you sat up. You blinked at the shadow that flitted away through the crack between your bedroom door and the frame. You had closed your door; you were sure of it. Entirely certain as your door always stuck terribly and was quite a pain in the ass.

You drew a blanket around your shoulders as you stood and went to the door. You blinked and peeked out into the hall. There was nothing, no one. You sighed as your eyes froze on the closed bathroom door. You heard the sudden whine of the shower and the rattling of the pipes. Andy must have woken up to get ready for work.

You always wondered how the lumberjacks could handle the early mornings, especially in the winter. You turned back and closed your door. Your feet were cold on the floorboards and the rug was just as unwelcoming as you crossed to the window. Snowflakes blurred the horizon and shrouded the dawn.

Winter had come and you sensed a storm brewing.

[plethoraaz]

Okay, so I know we’re all bummed about what happened in the last update, but the idea of He Tian leaving without telling Mo because of what he said has my imagination spinning 390°. 😵‍💫

Just picture this. 📷

It’s been a few years since Mo and He Tian have seen eachother, Mo still stays in contact with Jian Yi and Zheng XiXi but not that often. Mo moved to New York to start up his career on whatever could make the best money. He got into the Modelling department, now keep that detail in your mind.

Zheng XiXi lives in Philadelphia, which is 1 hour and 35 minutes away from New York. He already has a relationship with Jian Yi (they’re romantic partners) and he works as…. um- an accountant or something- lmao you can decide that part if you wish.

Jian Yi works abroad, he tells Zheng XiXi that he’s a freelancer, when in fact he’s doing business with the mafia he’s partly involved in. The reason Jian Yi doesn’t tell him the real truth, is because he’s scared of what Zheng XiXi’s reaction will be. Whether he leaves him or not, it’ll become more complicated; is what Jian Yi thinks anyway. He does indeed sometimes visit XiXi in Philadelphia, hell, sometimes they’ll both even drive up to Mo in New York to say hello and catch up on things.

He Tian, he’s a real mystery to Zheng XiXi and a heartbreak to Mo. Jian Yi is able to keep in contact with him and sometimes even sees him face to face, for the sake of the mafia of course. He Tian knows about Mo living in New York and how Jian Yi and Zheng XiXi are a thing, but he is unable to do much more than know due to the restrictions given by his father.

Now here comes the juicy bit.

It’s a nice day in Philadelphia for Zheng XiXi. Jian Yi is coming over to visit for the 3rd time that year, and the month was only April, and for Jian Yi to have visited that many times in such a box of time was quite immaculate.

Zheng XiXi was waiting in the airport at the gates of which Jian Yi should arrive in, and when he did spot that same shade of strikingly white blonde hair, he also recognised the black, charcoal hair that once befriended him all those years ago. For it was not just Jian Yi who came to visit.

It was He Tian.

Okay. Blah. Blah. Blah. Zheng XiXi’s shocked at He Tian’s arrival. Blah. Blah. Blah. Jian Yi explains how He Tian wanted a little holiday. Blah. Blah. Blah. Then they end up going to New York to see Mo. NOW we can stop Blah-ing.

It was nighttime by the time they all got there, and the city lights lit up the still busy streets. He Tian walked with Jian Yi and Zheng XiXi along the pavement while they were being all lovey-dovey with the hand holding. He was tired and wanted to go somewhere that would stop all the eyes-in-awe-at-his-fucking-beauty staring at him. He wanted to see his little Mo after all these years.

He interrupted Jian Yi and Zheng XiXi’s little moment to ask if they knew what Mo had been doing and why he moved to New York.

Jian Yi opened his mouth to answer but his eyes were drawn to one of the big advertisement screens behind He Tian.

(Quick disclaimer, they’re in somewhere like Times Square where all the big screens of adverts are, if you still don’t know what I’m talking about here’s a photo:)

Jian Yi would smirk at look back at He Tian.

“Turn around and see for yourself.”

Cue He Tian turning around-

His eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he saw his little Mo flash up on the screen (in a completely bombass outfit might I add), posed whilst ‘freaky’, you could say, music played. A perfume bottle then swirled up to the side, while the sound of a thick Spanish accent said ‘Edernica’ (the name of the perfume).

And then um

He Tian fainted or something <3333

[chim-chimchii]

Highway to Heaven (Yuta)

Genre: Fluff and Sauce! (It’s like eating something really spicy while being buried in a soft blanket)

Word Count: 1,920 

Note: I'm finally getting around to posting this. This Yuta drabble has been a WIP since summer, I believe? I want to thank Ashley for initially giving me this idea and for making the banner. Feedback is always appreciated! 

Set The Mood: Highway to Heaven by NCT127 (You can pick which version to listen to)

It was the day before spring break, and all your friends had decided to rent a van and drive to meet up with the others at a popular camping ground. Your bags were packed and stacked by the door for easy grabbing. You had just put the last bag down when your phone began to vibrate in your pocket.

"Bad news, Champ." Mark's voice sounded from the other end.

Without having him explain further, you already knew what he was going to say.

"The trip's canceled?" You tried not to sound too disappointed, but you were. The excitement was fading with each second that passed.

"Well, not technically. Everyone here had last minute things come up. Everyone, except you and Yuta."

You leaned against the wall and chewed on your bottom lip. Just hearing Mark say his name brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I only agreed to go because I wanted us all to be together. Plus, it's safer when there are more people." You clenched your phone a little tighter, silently praying that Mark would cancel his other plans to come along.

"It would just be you and Yuta until you get to the campgrounds. What could possibly happen on the drive there?" Before you could tell him of the possible outcomes that you came up with, he spoke again.

"Yuta really wants to go still, and I know you do too." You could imagine him smirking on the other line knowing that he was hinting at your crush on Yuta.

"Mark, I don't know." You were still trying to decide. The thought of you and Yuta being alone in a van for a couple of hours brought a blush to your cheeks.

"C'mon, Y/n." Mark was practically begging you to go even though he wasn't coming along.

"Okay, okay. Mark, you have to promise me that if you guys get the chance, you'll come and join us."

"I promise! You're going to have fun tomorrow!" . . . . . . You leaned against the van and watched as Mark and Yuta made small talk while loading your bags into the back. Yuta threw his head back and laughed at something Mark had said; undoubtedly, it was something weird and idiotic, but it made you chuckle too.

You were thankful for the dark sunglasses, for they hid the fact that you had been staring and admiring Yuta from where you were. As quickly as you could, you adverted your gaze when they both made their way over.

"You sure you're not forgetting anything?"  Yuta asked, he leaned his shoulder against the van and looked at you with a lopsided grin.

"I'm sure. I checked again before meeting you guys here."

Yuta nodded and stood upright.

"Good girl." He winked.

You immediately looked at Mark to see if he had heard Yuta, but, thankfully, his attention was on his phone.

"Well, Mark, I guess we'll see you next weekend."

Mark slipped his phone into his pocket. "Have a safe trip, and let me know when you both get there."

Yuta and Mark did a little handshake you didn't understand before Yuta rounded the van to enter the driver's side.

"I really wish you were coming with." You gave him a sad smile.

"Everything happens for a reason. Y/n, try to have fun." Mark wiggled his eyebrows before opening the passenger door for you. You eyed him suspiciously.

"You coming or what?" The engine roared, which made you break eye contact. Once seated and buckled in, Mark closed the door and waved.

"Have fun!"

Yuta honked twice, and the van lurched forward.

"It kind of sucks that the rest of them couldn't come." He quickly looked at you before returning his gaze to the road.

"Hopefully, they'll be able to join us later."

"Well, we'll have fun even if it's just the two of us, right?"

A blush rose to your cheeks.  

"Even if it's just the two of us." You agreed.

"That's right." He mumbled pleased with your answer.

. . . . . . . 

The music faded as Yuta turned it down. "Can I ask you a question?"

You turned your attention to him and nodded for him to go on.

"Why were you so hesitant on coming when you found out everyone else canceled?"

The question shouldn't have shocked you, but it did, and you were sure Yuta could tell that you were nervous. He was still waiting for an answer, and when you decided to be an adult about your feelings, the van began to sputter. You didn't know whether to be relieved that you wouldn't have to confess or be worried because the van was breaking down.

Yuta steered the vehicle off to the side of the road before putting it into park.

"Well, this can't be good." He opened the driver-side door and made his way to the hood. Once the hood was popped open, smoke billowed out. You followed his example and exited the vehicle.

"Should I try calling someone?" Your phone was already unlocked, and Mark's contact was showing on the screen.

Yuta nibbled on the bottom of his lip as he cautiously checked the oil and other fluids in search of the problem. "If you have service, try calling someone."

You pressed down on the small phone icon and listened to your phone as it rang and rang and went straight to voicemail.

"Of course, you wouldn't answer." You muttered under your breath as the monotone voice explained how to leave a voicemail.

It beeped, indicating for you to leave your message. "Remember when I said something could happen? Yeah, well, the van broke down. Please call me back as soon as you can."

As soon as you hung up, you threw your head back and gazed at the sky in annoyance. What good was a best friend if they never answered your phone calls?

The second person in your recents was Taeil. You expected him not to answer as the phone kept ringing, but on the fourth ring, he finally answered.

"Y/n, what's up?"

"I'm so glad you answered. Taeil, the van broke down, and we don't know what's wrong."

There was shuffling from his end. "Did you call Mark?"

You nodded as if he could see you. "Yeah, but he didn't answer."

Taeil tsked. "Sounds about right. I'll go find him, and hopefully, we can rescue you and Yuta."

"Thank you so much! I owe you big time." The tension in your shoulders began to relax.

"You're welcome. I don't know how long it will take to get there, but we'll try to hurry."

You said a quick goodbye and rounded to the front of the van to tell Yuta the excellent news. The hood had been closed, and he was now leaning against it, his arms folded over his chest. You couldn't tell if he was agitated or just thinking; you decided whichever one it was, you would cheer him up.

"Mark didn't answer, but Taeil did. He's going to find Mark, and they'll be on their way to get us." Copying his pose, you managed a smile and watched as the sun changed from a sunflower yellow to a strawberry sky.

"I'm sorry your spring break is starting so horribly." Yuta let out a disappointed puff of air. Whether he was disappointed in himself or the trip, you honestly didn't know.

"If could be stranded with someone worse, like Mark." You nudged his shoulder playfully with yours. He glanced down at you and let out a light chuckle.

"Can you help me up?" You placed your palms flat on the hood behind you to help push yourself to sit. Yuta moved quickly; his hands were gripping your hips as he lifted you.

Once you sat comfortably atop the van, you smiled. "At least the sunset is pretty, and the weather is nice."

Yuta nodded in agreement but stayed quiet. You could tell the situation was still bothering him. To distract him from the current predicament, you decided it was now or never; it was time to discuss the topic of your feelings and why you were so hesitant to come on this trip.

"Yuta."

You waited for him to look at you before continuing. 

"I'm not one for taking a whole lot of risks, and when things don't go as they were planned, I tend to be hesitant--"

He nodded and listened.

"--So when Mark told me everyone backed out, I panicked."

You adverted your eyes away from him. "I was also too nervous about being alone with you because I like you. It's easy to hide my feelings when there are other people around."

You stared down at your fidgeting fingers after confessing the feelings you held dear to your heart. The fear began to set in when Yuta didn't say anything right away. Was he thinking of ways to turn you down? You didn't have time to think of another horrible scenario because he finally spoke.

"You have feelings for me?" His voice was low and almost timid, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

You took this moment to sneak a peek at him. To your surprise, he was biting his bottom lip to hide that he was smiling like a child.

"Mark always told me that someone liked me, but I just thought it was just talking out of his ass."

The two of you shared a small laugh, and finally, your eyes connected with his. He was smiling not only with his mouth but with his eyes too; your heart did a small dance at the sight of him.

"I'm glad Mark wasn't talking about some random person. I'm glad he was talking about you." He turned his body, so he was now facing you, his arms resting on your lap as he leaned forward.

Yuta took your hands and held them carefully. "You make me nervous."

You let out a gentle laugh. Moments ago, he was smug and flirty; now, he was acting shy.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

Yuta blinked at you, deciding whether or not he should answer. You took that moment to slip your hands from his grasp to cup his face, and without thinking about it further, you brought your lips to his. His hands snaked to the underside of your thighs and pulled you close to him.

In the seconds that your lips connected, the kiss took an intense turn. You had never experienced anything like this, and honestly, you were so happy it was Yuta you were sharing it with. His hold on your thighs was firm, you were sure there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow, and that wasn't a bad thing.

Yuta pulled back for a breath of air, his lips red and swollen from the deep kiss. No doubt, yours looked the same. He chuckled anxiously and bit down on his bottom lip. "I'm sorry if that got a little too intense." 

Your hands found their way to his cheeks again. You couldn't help but give him another kiss.

"It was the best kiss I've ever had." You admitted.

"For not being a risk-taker, that kiss was very risky." He said with a wink.

You threw your head back, thoroughly shocked at how quick Yuta could switch from being shy to being coy, which Yuta took as an invitation. He started at your collarbone and peppered kisses up to your jaw.

 "I'm so glad it's you." He mumbled with a final kiss on your lips.

[elmflowers]

New writing challenge I just write in a Tumblr post and post the result.

[story below the cut it's witch au tommy]

It's been a very very long time since anything lived here.

Nothing was supposed to live here in the first place, just happenstance and incredibly stubborn characters forcing their way into the forest clearing that could not have screamed danger more than it did now. Saying fuck you, I want to live here. I'm going to build a sick shack. The fuck are you (nebulous and malicious beings) going to do about it?

And the clearing with it's dainty flowers and two short trees, one big, and the small pond in the middle with the lilypads, could not have cared less. The beings that would live there, that took the chance to be that ballsy, already knew the malice that came with the place. Young witches trying to become more powerful made up quite a few of the previous tenants.

They knew how cruel this place was and still tried to make it home. It didn't work, obviously, thus why there's nothing that lives here anyways.

And then, one afternoon identical to all of the rest, it changed.

There was a new person, a young boy wearing a witch's hat dressed in red and white. Blonde hair and bright neon blue eyes, with an expression looking focused and tense, he walked into the clearing with a guitar case slung over his shoulder and a red and white composition ruled notebook tucked under his arm.

The clearing, if it could, raised it's eyebrow minutely up. It's been a while since a intrepid witch came to try and tame the place. Apparently, it had been considered quite the challenge among witches. None quite strong enough to bend the land to their will and make a companion out of the malice.

He looked around the clearing. There wasn't much there, nice grass, a small pond front and center with a big tree growing next to it, another smaller tree on the other side with a similarly sized small tree near it.

He grinned to himself.

"Oh yeah. The great Tommy, witch of many, very manly things, has got the best project yet." Smiling wide, he slung the guitar case off of his shoulder and set it on the floor.

"Tommy" was the name of this tenant, huh? Well, he seems awfully sure of himself. The clearing thinks that this one might be fun to watch try his best. And fail regardless.

Opening the case, he brings out a tent that should not have conceivably fit within it. But it did anyways because magic doesn't work with "conceivables" and "inconceivables".

The clearing watches from it's many hidden eyes as the kid sets up shop. Getting out the tent fabric and poles, setting it up wrong the first time and being forced to redo the process, cursing as the rock he grabbed from the clearing (oh so rudely, may it add) accidently hit his fingers while nailing in the stakes, the works.

The tent is under the big tree and emits a warm glow from inside. A beacon of kindness, harmonizing with the soul of the young witch.

And really, young is the best word to describe him. He couldn't've been older than thirteen, practically a new fledgling leaving the nest (quite literally, too. Witches tend to forge their own identity and leave home at thirteen). Bright eyed and slightly unsure in his movements but genuine nonetheless.

This place was going to kill him.

He hums a short tune while sitting himself down by the water. Opening the notebook, he motions with his hand like he's magically pulling out something, and a empty glass bottle stretches out like a smear frame, and pops into existence. Grabbing the bottle in midair (fumbling a little but that's a detail only for Tommy and the clearing to know), he bottles a bit of the pond water.

He repeats the same bottle creation technique, and the wildflowers and grass can't help but be a little impressed. His magic is very strong, just in need of a little refining is all.

Instead of bottling pond water this time, he start putting in petals of water lilies, wildflowers, blades of grass, leaves from the old willow, bits of rock, and whatever else he could get his hands on. The bottles were lined up nice and neat like soldiers ready for battle on his guitar case.

He then closed his notebook (at this point the clearing assumes it's his grimoire) and then opened it again as if he was opening a laptop and. No, the book is straight up now working like a laptop. It still looks like a notebook, but the top page is now like a laptop screen and the bottom page has a keyboard with buttons overlayed on the page. It looks like the page is projected onto a keyboard, or if the page was stretched over it like lamination.

Tommy clicks away at the notebook-laptop, turning his body to face the line of bottles and setting the seeing glass (hung in the notebook as a bookmark, presumably) as if it was a camera, and then returning both hands to the keyboard.

A large mouse cursor appeared in the air in front of him, seemingly projected from the seeing glass still hanging in the air where Tommy set it. Selecting all of the bottles in front of him like apps on a computer and dragging it back towards the computer until it landed in with a "krr-THUNK".

Some more clicking, he seemed satisfied with his work. He closed the grimoire and set it within the Mary Poppins guitar case.

He's been quietly talking to himself the entire time, laughing at his own jokes. The clearing has been tuning the one sided conversation out, until it suddenly stops and there's a sound missing.

He looks over the horizon at the setting sun and frowns.

He pulls out the grimoire again, ripping off a tab of paper from a bigger piece (much like those adverts with phone numbers attached) and threw it on the ground.

It spontaneously combusted.

Tommy doesn't pay it any mind as the fire started to create a campfire and tended to itself, while he pulled out a cauldron from the guitar case and bottles of stuff from the notebook.

Setting the cauldron over the fire, he set about uncorking the bottles. The clearing realizes that those are the bottles he used to capture some of the clearing's stuff, like the pond water and petals.

He dropped in a bit of everything, half a cup of pond water, a couple of petals, one daisy, etc. Until the cauldron was boiling and gurgling, ready to be cast.

Tommy whispered to the cauldron something no one could hear, not even the clearing. The mixture swelled until it popped into a. Pineapple and steak sandwich.

Tommy grimaced. Okay, he probably should've expected that for a first location meal in a new place. And especially this clearing.

He took a bite of the sandwich. He hates it. He takes another.

"One day, you will be my land." He says to the clearing while chewing his sandwich. "One day you will be my companion."

It's been a long time since anything lived here.

It cant wait to see how long this one lasts.

[yyuangss-main]

CONGRATULATIONS | w.ushijima

Anon said: please please please do a part 2 to career !!

First, happy birthday to my number one husband in Haikyuu, Wakatoshi ❤️ It’ll be mine soon as well on the 16th. We stan getting old. Second, let it be known this is technically kind of Ushijima x Reader x Iwaizumi. Heavy on the Iwaizumi. Third, The Talk Shit Five is something I made up with Haikyuu friends and I will probably make a SMAU with them. And fourth, have fun reading!

Word Count: 2k+ Words First part can be read here

It has been two years since Wakatoshi found out you’re Iwaizumi’s girlfriend. According to the male, your relationship’s been great. Iwaizumi wishes that Ushijima could meet you since their friendship had been rising in recent times. But due to Ushijima now being a part of the Scwedien Alders, it almost seemed impossible.

“Thanks again for helping me.” Iwaizumi rolled his neck after placing the plastic bags on the table. “I can’t believe I fucking forgot the most important thing.”

“No need to stress yourself about it.” Ushijima started sorting things out. “People will not get here until later.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Iwaizumi decided to have a cookout, feeling it was too long since all his friends were reunited. “Did we get the coal?” Ushijima furrowed his brows.

“We had to buy coal?” Iwaizumi face palmed.

“Damn it. I don’t want to run out there again. I’m gonna call Yahaba and see if he can bring it.” The black haired male stepped out from his kitchen, typing away on his phone. Ushijima preoccupied himself with the task in front of him. Iwaizumi took a few minutes to come back.

“Yahaba’s getting the coal and (Y/N) is almost here.” Iwaizumi crouched down, rustling in the white plastic bags below him. Ushijima stopped moving, feet frozen in place. You were almost here? This is not good. And he can’t bail out now. Iwaizumi had trusted him to be of assistance.

“Ah. Guess I’ll finally get to see her again.” Ushijima mumbled.

“Yup. You guys’ll get along.” Iwaizumi’s hand placed the box of spoons on his countertop. “Since you two are Shiratorizawa grads.” Ushijima said, ‘mhm’ so he could go back to his internal panic.

What will it be like to see you? Would you walk out and not come back? Had you told Iwaizumi the truth yet? Or did he already know?

They had all the essentials, heads snapping up to a loud knock.

“That’s gotta be (Y/N). Stay right here.” Iwaizumi jogged out the kitchen. There was no avoiding this now.

Maybe he could run out the back door and say he had an urgent call from Tendou that he was hospitalized. There was the sound of a squeal after the door opened and a kiss accompanied it.

“How was it?”

“Hajime! Kentaro is so adorable I wish you would’ve come!” Wakatoshi bit the inside of his cheek, marveled at hearing your voice. Too long since he last heard “Good luck then”. They are distant now, your voice barely distinguishable. “I know he’s coming later for the party but still!”

You were now rambling on while Iwaizumi repeated the word, “Baby,” doing his best to get your attention. Wakatoshi’s love for how passionate you get never left. He had his fair share of you rambling on and yearned for more.

“Baby. I want you to meet someone.” You were finally quiet, done talking about Kyoutani. “You might know him ‘cause he went to Shiratorizawa as well. Come with me.” There were footsteps heading to the kitchen. Damn, Ushijima can’t stand here and look awkward once you come in. Quickly, Ushiwaka pulled out his phone and spun to face the counter.

Now, he stared at the black screen that reflected his face.

“Hey—” Ushijima heard the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice and lifted his head over his shoulder. In half a second, your smile was wiped clean off your face. “Ushiwaka, this is (Y/N). It’s about time you two meet.”

Someone had to speak. Would it be him? Would it be you?

“Wakatoshi. Haven’t seen a glimpse of you since graduation.” You said, hanging your purse on the chair nearest to you. “How’ve been? Job doing you well?”

“I’m fine. I had a few problems but Iwaizumi helped me through it.” Ushijima returned his cellular device in his back pocket. “And you (Y/N)?” At least you were still on the first name basis.

“Ah, here and there with the photography. I’m booked with ten weddings.” You exhaled.

Iwaizumi seemed thrilled that you finally met Ushijima after the long time he spent trying to make it a reality. He didn’t stop from asking questions about how you two knew each other. It was awkward since it was only the three of you. Iwaizumi and Ushijima set up the tables in the backyard. They also brought out two coolers and the grill.

You were sorting the spoons and forks into cups to place on tables, ignoring Ushijima who’s eyes lingered instead of helping.

Matsukawa and Yahaba had to get there earlier since they brought the coal. The duo, currently completely angry about it now stood surprised with Ushijima’s precense. The two Seijoh grads gave a knowing look and gave it to you as well. Eventually came the rest of the guests.

They were the boys who played with Iwaizumi his third year. Kageyama, Tsukishima, Tanaka, and Kiyoko who graduated from Karasuno. Kuroo from Nekoma. Someone by the name Rintaro Suna. And a few people who you worked with.

Obviously Oikawa came “fashionably” late with nearly melted ice cream. His beige turtle neck made you forgave him. It was chaos once he reunited with you. Now Ushijima saw why you wanted to stay in Argentina with him.

Ushijima talked with Tsukishima, Kageyama, and Kyoutani most of the time. He felt much of an outsider seeing the connections Iwaizumi and you had with the others.

Tanaka, Tsukishima, Kuroo, Suna, and Iwaizumi were apparently what they called “The Talk Shit Five” after meeting at training camp. The Aoba Johsai graduates kept their relationship with Iwaizumi and you. Since Kageyama went to Kitagawa, you still kept in touch even after different high schools. Where did Ushiwaka fit in all this?

Your ex from Shiratorizawa that half of these volleyball players envied? That was his category.

Everyone began eating, sitting at the tables with their respected people. Your table consisted of you, Iwaizumi, Kyoutani, Kageyama, Ushijima, and Oikawa. All in that order at the round table.

“Excuse me!” Oikawa clapped his hands for everyone to listen to him. “Although I don’t have a drink, I’d like to propose a toast!” A water bottle hit his shin after he said that. Oikawa sent a glare in Iwaizumi’s direction. He bent over to snatch it up and picked stray grass off it.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. My drink goes to us! For our success, that we may all find our dreams and press on into the future!” Oikawa opened the water bottle with ease and took a drink from it. “And that Iwa—chan may be nicer to me.”

“Let me go!” Hanamaki grinned, nearly falling back from his chair. Everyone’s head followed Hanamaki as he stepped to replace Oikawa. The setter who spoke first went to sit down at his chair he got up from. “This goes to my dearest Matsukawa. Let’s finally get a job.”

“No thank you!” Matsukawa cupped his mouth.

Kuroo thought it’d be a good idea to go next, instituating a chain where almost everyone went. You’d just finished, dedicating your speech to Tooru and Hajime, your Kitagawa boys that were there in hard times. Ushijima knew hard times translated to your break up.

What did you tell them?

“Oh, calling me by the first name! Are you trying to kill me woman?” Oikawa’s flirty tone made you laugh. “Anywho. Iwa—chan’s heart is broken after losing the Shiratorizawa match, blech.”

“He’s not the only one heart broken by Shiratorizawa.” You replied, voice low now.

“Great! Since both of you are moody. Let me lighten you two up! Meet us at the front of the mall! Love you!” The line on the other side beeped before you could reply.

“Ushiwaka, why don’t you go?” Oikawa blinked at him. The wing spiker now awoke from his day dream, hearing everyone urge him on. They also cheering for him. Ushijima dragged his water along, clearing his throat. By now, the chairs were turned to face the so called stage.

“I don’t… Have something to make a toast about. So, I’ll do it for someone I was once friends with.” Ushijima said, adverting eye contact with you. “This person told me to never give up. They supported me in every step I took to be where I am today. They were with me through thick and thin. I made a mistake and lost them. But I haven’t lost their advice. I hope they’re doing fine today.” Ushijima let his eyes land on you. Your face was neutral. Yes, he’d stubly made a speech about you.

“To Ushi’s friend!” Tanaka, seated near the back, raised his soda can. Others replied in choruses of “To Ushi’s friend!”, drowning their drink in for the mysterious person.

“If I may go.” Iwaizumi left his soda on the table, right hand in his pocket. “This one, goes for someone I love so much—”

“Iwa-chan! You shouldn’t have!” Oikawa placed the back of his hand on his forehead, faking a faint. “I knew you loved me back. I’m wearing the dress.” Chuckling and snorting went around with Iwaizumi rolling his eyes. Ushijima was burning holes in the back of your head, guts telling him the speech was about you.

“Like I was saying. This toast is for (Y/N). The only thing I’ll ever thank Oikawa for, is getting you to hang with us again.” You couldn’t help but smile brightly, ignoring Matsukawa and Hanamaki recording from the sidelines. “I’ll get cheesy just this one time. You saying yes to be my girlfriend made me feel the luckiest. Having you by my side is what I needed to continue. You give me motivation. Every day, I wake up excited to see you again.”

Ushijima leaned his elbows on the table.

“I love you, Wakatoshi.” Your eyes were staring into his olive ones. “You mean so much to me.” Wakatoshi placed a kiss to your forehead.

“You mean a lot to me too. I’m thankful for you.”

“(Y/N), you’re the one who told me to never give up.” With each word, Iwaizumi took one step closer to you. “These past two, near to be three, years have been the best. And I wonder what it’ll be like with you for the ones to come.”

“Can you believe it’s about to be one year?” You were settled on his lap while he laid down on the bed.

“I can. And I am glad to have spent it with you.” Ushijima sat up half way, arms bringing you into an embrace.

“Who said you weren’t romantic?”

“You own my heart. I don’t want it any other way.” Iwaizumi now stood in front of you. “So, (Y/N).” Your happy expression went into shock. Matsukawa and Hanamaki, now closer with their phones recording. Oikawa, letting out a loud gasp beside you. Ushijima, feeling his heart sink further down. And Iwaizumi, kneeling down before you and bringing a black box from his pocket.

“Have you ever thought about getting married?” You played with Ushijima’s hair, back pressed against the itchy oak. Ushijima’s head was on your lap, eyes closed.

“I have. I’ve thought about it many times.” He said. “If a year like this was with you, I’d like to know what the rest of my life will be like.”

“Will you marry me?” The box was now opened, the ring inside showing itself to you. Iwaizumi giving you the rare, loving smile he showed to you.

‘Say no.’ Thought Ushijima. ‘Say no. Say no—’

“Yes! Yes!” Your arms through themselves around Iwaizumi’s neck. Kuroo and Tanaka wailed in the distance, clinging onto each other. Iwaizumi muttered, ‘I love you’ in your ear, giving you a kiss anywhere he could land it. There were claps spreading about as you and Iwaizumi stood up. Iwaizumi grabbed your hand, slipping the diamond cut ring on.

Ushijima leaned back, observing as the two of you shared a passionate kiss. Some of the people you worked with were taking pictures of it.

“Good luck then.”

He should have known that pain meant he regretted it. He should have chased after you like his legs wanted to. Then, that’d be him instead of Iwaizumi. Wakatoshi brought his hands together, clapping too. Congratulations, you’re getting married.

[theevangelion]

Keira: Dom Cat/Sub Kara Sneak Peek

For Kendrene: Mistress Cat/Sub Kara. Kara has some special duties as Cat's personal assistant, including being fucked by her boss in the office after hours. Bonus points for involving Cat's very steep heels in the process.

*OR*

Cat Grant gives her Bambi-legged personal assistant an intensive course on how to walk in high heels.

“Oh! Keira while you’re here!” Miss Grant halted the personal assistant escaping in search of her lunch hour. “I need you to run and grab coffee before you take your break.”

“It’s Kara.”

“Excuse me?” Miss Grant glanced over the top of her glasses from the photographs spread out on her desk.

“It’s Kara, not—”

“Did I ask for your name?” Miss Grant didn’t so much as blink. “Keira, I can only assume you got out of bed on the wrong side this morning—presumably in the dark too if those last season bargain basement shoes are anything to go by—which you wear with all the grace and elegance of a reversing garbage truck without any wheels on, by the way.” Miss Grant turned her attention back to the grainy photographs of a popular athlete kissing a woman who was not his wife. “I’ll take a danish too.” She shooed with her fingers.

Taken aback, Kara realised that she now simply had a new name until Cat Grant decided otherwise. There was nothing to say—nothing she could say—other than blither foolish apologies for misspeaking. Kara had been warned about Cat’s quick, no survivors taken attitude. The several ex-personal assistants in the Facebook support group had made it abundantly clear.

But, Kara hadn’t found the advertisement for this role on Indeed or LinkedIn. She found it through quite a different website altogether.

“Coffee, Keira.” Miss Grant pointed a manicured finger to the door. “Why are you still here?”

“Sorry! Yes! Coffee, Miss Grant. Almond milk?” Kara became determined to get it right for fear of the alternative.

“Of course I want almond milk, Keira,” the petite woman scoffed, “I’m not a fucking barefoot savage.”

***

“She’s looking to finish strong but the ankles are weak. Her coach and team will be disappointed with her performance today. Wibble wobble, will she make it?” Miss Grant chided behind Kara all the way through the office as though walking in these particular heels were an Olympic gymnastics floor final. “Oh! She nearly tripped but she stuck the landing!” Miss Grant burst enthusiastically as they made it through the door into her executive office. “Goodness, Keira. It’s like watching a horse try to gallop in roller skates inside a pressurised vacuum chamber.”

“I can wear flats instead of heels if you prefer, Miss Grant?” Kara suggested with blushing cheeks, leaning over slightly as she placed the coffee and rival daily newspapers on Cat’s desk for morning appraisal.

“Keira.” Slender hips pressed against Kara’s bent bottom, then lips craned and pressed against the back of her reddened ear. It made Kara’s heartbeat stop and her brain empty outward. “I’m offended you would suggest such a thing. Firstly, I’m offended on behalf of high heels. Secondly, I’m offended you would think about stripping me of the small joy that comes with mercilessly mocking you.” Kara swallowed hard and felt her boss gently tuck her wavy hair behind her ear. “You don’t want to offend me, do you Kara?” Cat whispered.

“You said my name.”

“Excuse me?”

“You—” Kara stopped and inhaled, shaking her head at her own foolishness. “Nothing, sorry. Of course I don’t want to offend you, Miss Grant. I… I like working here. I just want you to make sure you like me working here as much as I like working here.”

“You sound like bad Roald Dahl fanfiction when you speak off the tongue. I don’t like it.” Cat pulled back, but she gently slipped her slender fingers along Kara’s shoulder as she moved away—almost taking the venom out of her own statement. “Still, a woman without confidence is like a bisexual person without a Harry Potter inspired tattoo, Keira. Incomprehensible,” Cat snided, stepping around her desk with clasped hands at her waist. “I’ll teach you how to appreciate heels. Be here at six this evening.”

“After work?” Kara gulped and fiddled with her glasses.

“Will that be a problem?”

“No Ma’am.” She shook her head.

***

Kara was a pretty thing. Annoying, but pretty. There were few things that Cat enjoyed less than a young woman falling all over herself like a wounded deer in the wake of a cutting word from her quick tongue. But, Kara had seemingly made herself immune to the humiliation in recent weeks.

Cat would try, of course, nasty little remarks here and there to make the girl wither crimson. But Kara would just smile the most radiant smile and say a blushing thank you, apparently grateful for the attention and constructive feedback.

Truth be told, it warmed Cat.

But that didn’t stop it being any less infuriating.

Cat had placed the job advertisement on the fetish website for two reasons: to draw in the type of submissive natured assistant who would prove long standing—because having to re-explain the basics of how she wanted things done around the office every few months after the latest one quit was more headache than it was worth. Cat also placed the advert on the fetish website because it was a very, very fun and convenient way to bring her most private fantasies to life.

Cat enjoyed the thought of humiliating a girl to tears, parading her naked, spanking her over her knee, doing all sorts of rude and cruel things to her. There were the overtly sexual things too—the thought of taking her personal assistant to business dinners with electrified toys in all sorts of sensitive places. A tear-stained porcelain face buried underneath her hiked skirt licking her stresses away—waiting for the chief’s permission to gasp for a much needed breath.

Why keep it a filthy, private fantasy when she could find someone as equally perverted as herself? Better yet, why keep it a filthy perverted fantasy when she could find a little fool who would do these things without the good business acumen to demand a premium salary rate.

Kara made above market average of course, if only from the benevolence of Cat’s tender heart. The girl didn’t have enough between her ears to think to demand it, though Cat supposed that was rather a good thing for longevity's sake.

Cat never abided demanding types very well.

“Panties off too.” Cat didn’t glance away from her laptop screen despite wanting to stare. “I don’t care if you cry yourself blue in the face. Take them off or put the rest of your clothes on and march yourself down to the unemployment line.”

“I’m not crying,” Kara whispered softly as though confused by the statement. “I wasn’t wearing panties to begin with, Miss Grant.”

At that Cat snapped her stare across with witheringly cold precision. Kara stood there completely bare with her hands clasped behind her spine. From stood beneath the lighting directly above her, her skin was a gorgeous shade of bone white, her muscles taut and slender, which gave her the impression of being much taller than she actually was. Cat thought she looked beautiful, and she wanted to give the compliment where it was due, though she would never miss the opportunity for a quip.

“What happens when you assume, Keira?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Grant.” Wrong footed, Kara startled like a wide-eyed deer.

Much better, Cat thought.

Kara continued, “I just. I just like to be prepared for you, Miss Grant. I like to anticipate what might be required of me—”

“And what were you anticipating when you decided to forgo panties this morning?” Cat rose from her chair with a cool, indiscernible expression. “What? You had some infantile, school girl fantasy that perhaps I might use your dripping little hole as balm?” Cat blinked and pushed the smallest of smirks. “Of course, I suppose today wasn’t the first day the air from the subway vents tickled you in private places?” She clipped around her desk with poise.

YOU CAN READ ALL FOUR CHAPTERS OF THE COMPLETE STORY HERE!

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 120 - Eye Contact

A cold and well-cleaned room, sterile metal tables that overflow with a gentle trickle of blood. The hearts that beat upon them spasm and spurt without any sort of rhythm, and were they to stand still for but a moment, it might become clear just how wrong they are in their construction. - Statement of Elias Bouchard

So when I first listened to this episode, I didn't realise that the statements referenced here are SPECIFICALLY those and ONLY those that Jon took himself. I also didn't remember what some of the references actually referred to. So I'm probably going to be spending this entire relisten going "Oh, that was THAT statement", starting with this bit, being clearly in reference to "Anatomy Class" (episode 34).

The doctor cannot bring himself to look at the tables, so instead, looks to the Archivist, whose eye watches him, and cannot close.

"Eye" singular sooo ... does dream!Jon appear as a cyclops? But no, I'm imagining him more as a three-eyed being. Two eyes closed in sleep, one Eye eternally open to watch.

Desperate, he tries to throw the apple at his observer, but it is too late. The doctor has forgotten how the elbows work, and wrenches it to the side with a sickening crack. He tries again to scream, but he hasn’t got the throat right, and the wheezing, half-choked gurgle that escapes would stir pity in the Archivist, if he had not heard it so many times before.

It's kind of fascinating to me that the doctor's nightmares focus not so much on the idea of inhuman strangers pretending to be human but on HIMSELF forgetting how to human. To be honest, that IS actually scarier, but not what I expected, exactly, given the origin of his nightmare.

He turns to see the familiar screen, the familiar woman beneath it. She looks up at him with an expression of recognition and weary dread. She types and types and types, her fingers a blur, flying across the keyboard, and yet never fast enough to outrun the relentless words that flow like dark water across the screen that stretches off into the sky.

Episode 65: Binary

He passes those places he can no longer watch – the silent wards of peeling skin, the empty warehouse of thick darkness and frightened children, the rusted train car that smells of eager, infectious hate.

Okay, so this one gave me trouble, so I ended up checking the Wiki to figure it out. The silent wards of peeling skin is Melanie's statement about the hospital. The empty warehouse of thick darkness and frightened children is Basira's statement about Rayner. The rusted train car is, once again, Melanie's statement. Why can he no longer access these? Basira and Melanie are both still alive, after all. Is it because they're being "protected" by their own Entities? But...

The rain is still there, though it is empty. The long and desolate road, slick with the downpour; a police car’s lights flashing over the unmoving van. The doors are open, and the too-familiar statues stand either side of the well-worn wooden box.

Daisy is about as Hunt as Hunt can be and has been for a long time, so why can he get to her nightmare just fine? So I don't get why Melanie's and Basira's nightmares aren't watchable.

Here he sees the train, twisted and pressed in on all sides, nothing but shrieking metal and cracked glass. He climbs inside, and takes his seat, mouth tasting of mud and soil, his eyes moving through the dust and grit unblinking.

Episode 71: Underground

He catches a glimpse of an advert above his seat: “Dig.”

"Dig" wasn't actually a statement taken by Jon, but then this nightmare is of the Buried, so it makes sense for it to be here anyway.

There is a door in front of him. A yellow door. He knows the dream it used to lead to; he knows it well. But that’s not where it leads anymore. He does not know what is behind it anymore, and he is deathly afraid of finding out.

This used to be Helen's nightmare, but of course Helen is now melded into the Distortion so yeah, going through that door would be one MESS of an experience.

The Archivist turns away. Behind him are the ants. They move like a terrible rolling wave along the hard-packed ground, and he can see every twitching antenna, every clenching mandible. Somewhere, underneath that twitching, burrowing mass, is the exterminator.

Episode 55: Pest Control

Before him rises an incinerator door, the glowing light of the flames curling around the cracks. With a wailing shriek, the door opens, and the burning silhouette that stands within is ingrained upon the Archivist’s racing mind. They smoke and sizzle, but still the worms crawl through her charred and pockmarked flesh, her now-singed red dress shifting with the movement beneath it.

Okay, this is interesting 'cause Jon is still in Jordan Kennedy's nightmare, but given how traumatised Jon was by Jane Prentiss, this may as well be his own. And his reaction to it as recounted by Elias actually does make it sound like this is one of the hardest dreams to watch because it hits so close to home.

When faced with her, he even longs for the terrible dream of the melted woman, who would see everything desolated without rhyme or reason. But she was beyond his reach the moment she knew he was there, so the Archivist can only stand and stare, as the hive goes about its infested, long-dead work.

Jude Perry (who somehow fucked off out of Beholding's reach)

The dark building is newer, but he knows it well; knows the two lost souls who creep through it with an alert hunger on their faces. He recognizes that look from the other hunter, whose dreams he has watched for so long. They stalk the darkness itself, and hope to catch and kill it before it can do the same to them. They see him watching, but they cannot catch his scent.

And this one is Julia and Trevor's nightmare.

At last, he is in the moonlit graveyard – the oldest of the dreams. It is peaceful, cool and damp, as the rolling, boggy fields stretch out in all directions. He hears her calling pathetically from the bottom of the graves, but by now he knows there is nothing he can do but stare. She begs to be released, to dream of this place no more, but there is nothing he can do.

And this is Episode 13: Alone.

Another dissection room, another figure standing in its centre – but this one is calm. She simply looks at him sadly, a pity in her face that burns him worse than any flame. More than anything, the Archivist wants to look away, to turn his eye from her gentle sadness, from the disappointment in what she sees in him.

Is this Georgie, then, who is beyond the reach of fear, even when she is still being watched?

Elias: Hello, Inspector. Martin. I’m, uh, sorry to hear about Tim

Until this point I was still hoping that Tim had somehow survived, despite the fact that the narrative was HEAVILY signposting that he wouldn't for multiple episodes.

Martin: You didn’t just see it in me? Elias: Honestly, I didn’t look. For all my power, I will admit I am not immune to making the occasional lazy assumption.

People keep making this mistake with Martin, don't they?

Peter: Oh, and if you want to talk to a counselor, the Institute will of course cover any cost.

Okay, but like, why exactly is the embodiment of isolating-yourself-and-never-talking-to-anyone-about-anything suggesting counselling? Is this something along the lines of ... making sure Martin doesn't actually talk to his friends and colleagues thing? Giving him an impersonal outlet that won't create the same sort of connection?

My impression of this episode

So I spent most of the first listen AND the relisten trying to figure out which reference goes with which statement, but actually, looking past the "spot the reference" game, this episode is very well written and when you let the horror of it sink in, it's really rather - well - horrific: all these people, endlessly relieving their trauma every night, including Jon who's being forced to watch and cannot look away. Where the overall plot is concerned: I did not imagine Martin getting Elias arrested or Peter Lukas becoming the new head of the Institute - at all. It is a pretty lovely set-up for the next season.

[reddesertcolbs]

drunk confessions // colson baker

kind of hate this, kind of don’t at the same time 

requested: yes - using this prompt list.

summary: a very drunk colson calls you whilst you’re in the middle of a date, which is nothing new, asking for you to pick him up and it leads to some drunk truths.  

word count: 2.2k words.

warnings: mention of alcohol and weed, swearing. 

my writing

//

“this food is gorgeous,” smiling up towards the man that’s sitting on the opposite side of the table. picking up some of the pasta onto your fork, popping it into your mouth, chewing the food and swallowing, before looking back up to meet his eyes. “how’s your food?” 

“amazing thanks,” you watch as he puts a forkful of food into his mouth, washing it down with some of the wine that you ordered to the table. “how’s yours?” 

“really good thank you, i’m glad i went for this.” pointing to the pasta dish with your fork, lifting up your own glass of red wine with your free hand and taking a sip. placing the fork back into your hand, you scoop up more of the tomato pasta, shoving it into your mouth.

the loud text tone of your phone that’s sitting in your bag makes you stop the chewing of your pasta, covering your mouth with the back of your hand, as you send him an apologetic look before reaching into your bag to put it on silent. 

“i thought i put this on silent before i came.” you smile at him, pulling the device out of your bag and glancing down as it begins to buzz and ring loudly in your hand. your eyes knit together in confusion, as the name “cols” is on the top of the phone and a picture of him is displayed on the screen. “sorry, i need to take this. could you excuse me for a second?” 

“yeah of course, take all the time you need.” he sends you a polite smile, watching you as you mutter a quick thank you and stand up from the chair, and begin to make your way to the bathroom, accepting the call as you stroll. 

“hey, cols. you okay?” you mutter, opening the door and leaning against the sink, looking around the bathroom and noting it’s empty. 

“y/nnnn,” he drags out the last letter of your name, laughing loudly when you hear shouting from the other side of the phone. “what are you doing right now?” 

“you know what i’m doing,” your brows are still knitted together, chewing your lip in confusion as you have already mentioned your date to the blonde many times. “why is everything okay?” 

“wait, what are you doing?” he questions again. you can hear shuffling around in the background, and you’re still not too sure why he’s calling right now, as he knows you’re on a date. 

“i’m busy, cols. i’m on a date, you know this.” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. pulling the phone away from your ear briefly, you check the time, before parting your lips again. “do you need something? because i need to go.” 

“that must have slipped my mind.” he slurs down the phone. you can hear the smirk in his voice, and you can’t stop your head from shaking in annoyance. “i need you to come and pick me up, i need to go home but i’m too drunk to drive. please y/n.” 

“colson, i can’t. can't you ask slim to get you?” you turn around in the mirror, glancing over your appearance. 

“i can’t, he’s with me. please i’ll pay you, i need you please.” he begs, causing you to shake your head again. 

“this isn’t the first time you’ve called me when i’ve been on a date, colson.” sighing deeply, you bite your lip in frustration. after thinking the situation over, you nod your head, even though he can’t see you, before exhaling loudly, making sure he could hear the annoyance that is present. “fine, you owe me big time. where are you?” 

“thank you, i really appreciate it. i’m in soho, i’ll stand outside so you can see me.” you can hear the smile in the tone of his voice, and you can feel the corner of your lips starting to tug into a smile, but you stop yourself before it can. luckily you have only had one glass of wine, therefore it was safe for you to drive. 

“i’ll be there in five. don’t move.” sighing once more, you end the call and stroll towards the door, swinging it open and walking back to the table with an apologetic grin. 

“hey, i know this is bad timing, but i need to go. something has come up and i need to leave.” you feel shitty, ditching your date so soon, but you’re always going to be there for your friends if they need you. “we can rearrange this if you would like?” 

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it. yeah of course, i’ll text you.” he smiles, standing up from his chair and extending his arms, pulling you in for a quick hug before pulling away. 

“i’m really sorry again.” you give him a soft smile, as you pick up your bag, resting it on your shoulder as you begin to back away. “thank you for tonight, it was nice.” 

“you’re welcome, i’ll see you soon.” he grins, giving you a small wave as you turn around with a smile, walking out of the restaurant and towards your car. 

unlocking your car, you slide into the driver’s seat, placing your bag onto the floor of the passenger’s and turning the ignition on, not before fastening your seatbelt. you begin to make the small drive to soho, where colson is waiting patiently for you. 

pulling up right outside the door, your eyes connect with the tall blonde who is leaning against the wall with a blunt situated in his mouth, as he pushes himself off the wall. jogging slightly, he makes his way around to the passenger’s seat. 

opening the door wide, he sits down in the seat with a huff, throwing the burnt out blunt onto the ground before shutting the door with a smile. 

“hey bestie.” he turns to look at you, eyes heavy and red with a sleepy grin. 

“hey.” you smile wide at him, before beginning to make your way towards colson’s house.

“how was your date?” he asks, leaning forward and cranking the music up loud, drumming along to the tune on the dashboard. 

“it was going great until you decided to call.” you smirk, reaching over to turn the music down, before sighing. “cols, can i ask you something?” 

“sure. you can always ask me anything you know that.” he throws you a smile, then looks down at the fraying thread that’s hanging out of the slit on his knee. 

“why do you always call me when i’m on a date?” you ask softly, your eyes leave the road for a moment and you glance towards him, eyes darting around his face as he brings his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing gently as he looks deep in thought. adverting your eyes from him, you look back onto the road.

“i, erm,” he takes a deep breath, before looking over at you with glossy eyes from the alcohol and weed that he has been smoking. he rests his head against the coolness of the window with a sigh, letting his eyes shut for a moment, then glances over to you. “no reason.” 

“colson.” you pry, not believing his response at all. “come on, be honest with me.” 

“i just don’t like to see you with other guys.” he mutters out too quickly, words slurred from the whiskey he has most likely drank all night. he flicks his eyes from you to the window, whilst clearing his throat as the awkwardness settles in.

“pardon? i didn’t hear you, can you repeat that slower,” chuckling slightly, eyes removing from the empty road ahead of you and over to him with crossed brows, sending him a sheepish grin. “please.”

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, voice low before he repositions himself, sitting up straight and turning his body to face you. “i hate seeing you on dates with other guys when it should be me.” 

“what?” you choke, eyes wide as your head whips to look at him with parted lips. “do you know what you’re saying right now? how much have you had to drink?” 

“it’s fine, just drop it.” he sighs, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing it gently, exhaling through his nose loudly. 

“no, colson. i can’t drop this now.” you shake your head, pulling up to colson’s driveway and once you park, you turn the ignition off and turn your body to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“i get jealous every time you mention a date because i’m into you.” he looks over at you, eyes dancing around your face as you process his words with your lip between your teeth and eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “and i know i’m drunk, very drunk, but i mean every single word.” 

“cols,” you exhale softly, “why didn’t you just say something earlier?” 

“i didn’t want to ruin our friendship, that’s why i decided not to say anything.” his gaze is on his hands, playing with the large amount of rings that are littered on his fingers, avoiding your eyes that are fixed on him. “plus, i don’t even know if you have any feelings for me either, so yeah. you can just ignore everything i said.” 

“nothing will ever ruin what we have between us, colson.” you smile warmly, trying your hardest to calm the nerves that are visibly radiating off the blonde. “i’m not going to lie to you and say i have a lot of feelings for you, but i can admit that there is something there, between us.” your hands move back and forth, pointing at him and you to help further explain. “and there always will be, you know that, because we’re close friends.” 

“very close,” he adds with a grin, making you roll your eyes at him. the strong bond between the two of you wasn’t new to everyone, the late night cuddles and bed sharing, drunken kisses and many occurrences where one of you would accidentally walk in on the other one when you were butt naked after a shower, or getting ready for the day.

“look, why don’t we talk about this properly tomorrow, when you’re sober?” you inquire, eyes darting around his face as his gaze lingers on his fingers, spinning one of many metal rings around his digit to distract himself. 

“can i pick you up and take you to the diner?” he flicks his attention to you, a hopeful glint glistening in his irises. “i know how much you like it there, especially with me.” 

“of course you can.” smiling brightly, as he brings one hand to rest on top of yours, tugging it towards him and lacing your fingers with his.

“i’ll pick you up at 1pm, don’t be late.” he winks with a cheeky grin, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your soft hand. “it’s a date.” 

“it’s a date.” you nod in agreement, grinning as he leans over to connect his lips to your cheek, leaving a soft peck to it before sitting back in his chair. 

“thank you for picking me up, you have no idea how grateful i am to have you in my life.” his cheeks turn a light shade of pink once the words leave his mouth, and you’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol and weed that he’s consumed during the night, or if it’s because he’s sharing his genuine feelings with you, something he doesn’t do often with anyone. 

“no need to thank me, it’s what i’m here for,” you give his hand a loving squeeze to show your appreciation for his words, and him, with a small smile. “i’m so grateful to have you in my life too, cols.” 

the blonde can’t wipe the huge smile off his face it’s starting to hurt, your lips mirroring his when he lifts your hand up to his mouth again and places a quick kiss to it. colson wishes your hand was your lips, but he’s going to keep that to himself for the time being, baby steps. 

“right, get out so i can go home,” you tease, turning the key to the ignition, causing the car to roar again. you glance over at him, feeling his eyes watching your every move, and you’re correct once you meet his gaze as soon as your head turns. “i have a date to get ready for.” 

“okay okay, i’m going.” he chuckles, unlinking your hand with his and raising his palms up to show his surrender, making you giggle. “i’ll see you tomorrow, thank you again.” 

“see you tomorrow.” you respond, rolling the window down to the passenger seat once he steps out and shuts the door behind him with a slam. 

“drive safe, give me a text when you get home so i know you made it home in one piece.” he demands, leaning his arms on the window with a warm smile, before pushing himself off it and turning around, strolling to his door. 

you stay parked outside his house, watching his every move to make sure he got in okay, knowing full well how clumsy drunk colson can be. colson gives you a small wave once he opens the door, signalling that it was fine for you to leave now, so you head off into the direction of your home, mind clouded with the tall blonde that you’re very fond of.

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