#nobody expects you to wake up in the morning without an alarm clock

[awkwardlybenevolage]

I have no task permanence. If I start something else, my current task just disappear from my mind until I stumble upon it again. I could not count the number of times I forgot things when I was a kid.

However, I also have a compulsive need to clear all notification badges from my applications.

Combine the two, and you find the greatest invention in modern history: the "remind me" feature of Slack.

When I need to do something, but I can't do it RIGHT NOW, I *immediately* write down a message to myself and set it as a reminder. Oftentime it's a reminder in 20 minutes from now. Sometimes it's for the next day, sometimes for next week. And if I cannot do the task when I get the reminder, it's ok, I just push it back 20 minutes, 1 hour, 1 day, whatever fits. And until I have either pushed back the reminder or clicked "Finished", the notification badge will STAY.

Everyday I come to the office I have somewhere between 5 and 10 reminders. I push back most of it, do the ones I can immediatly, etc.

It can take other forms. Sometimes I put the letters I need to adress on my keyboard so I know I have to do it when I sit down on my computer. Or I dangle the bag I must not forget from the handle of my front door. Or I set an alarm clock for something I must do on the evening. Whatever forces the issue back on my mind.

Know your mind, know your quirks, work with them rather than against them.

Since I started doing that, I no longer forget things, and I even get praised for my thoroughness. And trust me, it feels even better when you feel responsible for your success.

It's a good thing to bear in mind that just because someone is correct doesn't necessarily mean that they are right. For example, it's true that in order to maintain consistent work, you've got to have a consistent routine. A good routine consisting of good habits is as vital to consistent work as building a sturdy foundation is important to a house. It doesn't matter how good all your other plans are - no foundation, no house. This is correct.

However, a sturdy foundation requires solid ground to build upon. And sometimes, some people just don't have that. Sometimes you've just got a swamp for a brain. You can try to build foundations, over and over again, but that isn't going to work. All your fine stonework and masonry is just going to go to waste, sinking before it settles. and you've tried doing that so many times that you know that it isn't going to work. The rocks just disappear.

And people who don't understand what the fuck you're even talking about think you're lying. Solid stonework house foundations don't just magically disappear on their own. So they tell you to try again, accusing you of being lazy for being unwilling to keep doing work that you know is futile and achieves nothing. You cannot explain what the problem is to people who have never experienced it, and people who don't understand the problem can't help you.

But just because you can't do shit their way doesn't mean that you can't do shit. Problems nobody else has require solutions nobody else does. If you've got to build a house on a swamp, you've got to put that thing on stilts.

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Rain Blues (Axl Rose x Slash)

Summary: Rain seems to bring out the worst memories for Slash and Axl. How would they cheer up the other?

TW: mentions of past abuse

A/N: As you voted, here's this little Slaxl fic. I really missed writing for them, it was fun to get into my hurt/comfort groove. I hope you'll like it and comments are always appreciated.

The rain started trickling down the windows around 6 am. Slash was sure about that because he had the displeasure of waking up and looking at his alarm clock, the blurry numbers being the only source of light in the dim bedroom. He stared at the droplets on the glass, imagining them to be in a race, like he had been doing since he was little. Usually he would have never been up at that time of the day, but fall always seemed to fuck up his internal clock like it did with changing the color of the leaves. The only good thing was that Axl was still sleeping, his breathing coming out soft and steady. The redhead always had problems sleeping to the point Slash got used to feeling someone tossing and turning near him, but the colder months were even more brutal to Axl' sleep cycle. But as long as there wasn't screaming involved, Slash was more than happy to let him enjoy some rest. There was no point in going back to sleep, at least not in the near future, so he got out of the bed, reached for his cigarettes and headed towards the balcony, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible. 

The crisp morning air hit him in the face, his nose wrinkling at the sudden sensation as his skin slowly got used to the wind. The city seemed to be still asleep and the rain only gave it a sinister look, which was highlighted by the gray sky and dark clouds that Slash hated so much, even if he couldn't exactly pinpoint why or maybe he didn't want to.

Without wasting more time he lit up his cigarette, at least if he had to be miserable he would have satisfied his cravings, and kept looking out. Without the obvious differences, the city reminded him of his childhood spent in London, when his parents were still together even if the weather was shitty, when he had less problems and was carefree, yet LA always warmed his heart with the excessive heat, colorful life and the dream of becoming a rockstar. Maybe he was turning into his beloved snakes that needed constant sun exposure to live.

The noise of the balcony door opening almost blended with the rain's to the point that Slash thought he might have just imagined it, however the two arms who slowly surrounded him, Axl's chin resting on his shoulder. He slowly went to position his hands over his boyfriend's but Axl flinched away.

"It's okay. No touch". Slash stated and Axl seemed content enough with the answer, keeping holding his boyfriend.

Over time the guitarist learned it was easier to treat Axl like a cat: slow movements, letting him get close and allowing him to get away if he wanted to, especially when he was silent and clingy, clear signs of Axl's mind playing tricks on him. Slash took a long drag from his cigarette, focusing his eyes on the landscape, but even if the sun was slowly rising, the sky remained gray.

"This weather fucking sucks." He wasn't surprised by the silence that followed, it would have been stupid to expect Axl to talk, however the words were just pushed out of his mouth.

He was used to being the silent one, while Axl kept talking for days, so whenever these moments happened, he always had a slight embarrassment washing over him. Without even noticing it, Slash moved his hair forward, hiding his face even if nobody could see him.

"Rain is just so fucking melancholic. I hate..." he took a pause, shifting his attention to his cigarette, "I hate this feeling."

Axl's arms seemed to get tighter around him, probably in an attempt to comfort him, then his hands started to go up and down Slash's arm smoothly. A warm, welcoming sensation formed in the guitarist's stomach, so much different from the wind brushing against his skin and it made him think a bit. Usually, whenever he felt like that, the solution was drinking a bottle of Jack or worst case scenario getting high, he never thought a hug could feel like that even after all the time he and Axl had been together.

Slowly he got used to it and he had the feeling Axl was enjoying the distraction as much as him, occasionally resting his head on Slash's shoulder a couple of times. But soon his cigarette was over and reality crushed back in, as the sky got somehow darker.

"We should probably get inside. We can rest some more before I need to get to the studio".

Axl seemed to agree and let the other man go, stepping in front of him. Face to face, Slash felt compelled to observe Axl's face while simultaneously feeling his boyfriend's gaze doing the same: dark circles were sitting under his eyes, his freckles were a faded memory due the lack of sun, yet Slash felt the uncontrollable urge to kiss him, only to refrain himself. He would never overstep the "no touch" rule and neither he wanted to get punched, however Axl seemed to have read his mind, because his lips were soon planted on Slash's.

The shitty rain, the chilly wind, his appointment, all seemed to disappear in the background leaving him to enjoy the moment. If only Axl's kiss also had the power to skip ahead to June and get them on a beautiful beach where they could relax and not freeze their butts off. He moved his hands in his boyfriend's hair, making sure to be as careful as possible but Axl seemed to feel better and he even returned the favor by letting his fingers wander all around Slash's forearm.

A familiar warmth started to make its way in his body and he knew that if he didn't stop now, they would end up making out in the rain so he slowly let the redhead go.

"We really need to go or we're gonna get drenched".

Axl seemed to agree, tugging Slash's wrist and leading him towards their bedroom, leaving the sad rainy sky behind. Once they were back in bed, Slash looked at the ceiling waiting for his boyfriend to make his first move, if he wanted, while his own head started to run in circles.

He wasn't the overthinking type or the one to indulge in sadness, the only emotions he liked were the good ones and he hoped anything else could be erased by either alcohol or being busy enough. He didn't even know why he felt so nostalgic, why his brain kept going back to London and his parents and it almost made him scream in frustration.

"Maybe we can shower together. You know, it's almost time for you to get ready". Axl's voice managed to snap him out of his tumultuous thoughts.

"Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah, I can handle that kind of touch". The redhead shrugged his shoulders, however Slash analyzed him for a second. No signs of distress or anger were visible so eventually he agreed.

Following his boyfriend into the bathroom, Slash realized maybe that was the solution: a hot, steamy shower and his gorgeous boyfriend helping him get clean. Yeah, it sounded like something that could make both of them relax and especially a nice distraction before stepping out in the rain.

---

Axl poured a hefty dose of coffee into his mug. Slash left already for the studio, yet he couldn't ease the heaviness that was squishing his heart and every thought seemed to drive back to his boyfriend. The redhead thought that the shower would help him, he even put his still persistent discomfort aside, but Slash's gaze still felt distant even when he was devouring him with lust and his demeanor just lacked his usual chill.

Did something happen? Or is he mad at me?

Rationally Axl knew it wasn't the case, and if it was he shouldn't have cared, but it was so strange to feel Slash's muscles so tensed up, his usual silence being a shade more depressing than it usually would have been. It was Axl's role being the moody one, yet there was something bothering Slash and he needed to do something about it. Screw his brain, screw whatever memory was lingering around his mind, he needed to cheer Slash up.

But how?

Talking always helped Axl out but it wasn't Slash's case, the guitarist was either too chill to care or would just feel awkward talking about it, which was counter-productive. Taking another sip, he scanned the kitchen and took the little notepad stuck on the fridge deciding to brainstorm some ideas.

What made Slash happy?

Snakes. Well, Bonnie and Clyde were currently chilling in their heated cages and fed before their owner left. He had no desire to buy another snake.

A bottle of Jack. A quick and dangerous solution. Something Slash wouldn't object to but also too basic and definitely he didn't need him to drink more than he was already doing.

Sex. Again, something Slash wouldn't say no to but the shower proved that when their minds weren't in the right place, their game sucked. Plus, Axl didn't think he had it in him at that moment, forcing himself would have made things more depressing than they already were.

Horror movies. Now, that was something Axl could work with. They could be rented fairly easily, Slash would have a nice distraction for a couple of hours and he might even join him. Plus, thinking about it, didn't Slash mention a recently released horror movie he wanted to see at the movie theater but never got the chance to? That was the perfect idea! Dumping the mug in the sink, the singer tried his best to get ready as fast as possible, dodging himself into his car and hitting the breaks.

The rain was merciless, making sure to soak as much of Axl's clothes as possible which only made him regret more his decision of getting out of the house. Fidgeting with the bracelets on his wrist, he made sure to scan closely the horror section but he couldn't help but feel invisible eyes all over him, praying and waiting to lure him. Mostly he didn't want to be recognized by any fan at that moment but there was also a more hidden fear.

He couldn't find him, could he?

"Do you need help, sir?" The unknown voice made his heart jump more than Axl would ever admit but soon he realized it was only the cashier. He was glad he decided to wear sunglasses inside, even if that made him look even crazier than he already was.

"No, thanks". He opted to say, almost regretting using his voice and not just shaking his head.

He could still feel the intense beating in his ears while picking a random VHS from the shelf, making sure to focus all his attention on it. The shivers and the pressure on his head signaling a headache didn't matter because he had to find the movie. After seemingly endless time, his eyes took a glimpse of a familiar image. Yes, it was just what he needed.

"Oh, that's a great movie!" The cashier started politely and Axl couldn't do much but to give him a fake smile. He just hoped Slash liked it.

On the way to his car, while the rain seemed to slow down a bit, the singer couldn't help but feel like a piece was missing. Was just a movie okay? Shouldn't he have done something more?

He almost didn't notice passing a supermarket until his eyes were caught by some flashy Christmas decorations. For fuck's sake, it was November still. However, it wouldn't hurt too much to stop by.

Yeah, maybe he knew what to add to movie night.

–

Slash thought that the temporary distraction from discussing and recording his new guitar parts would have lasted longer, however as soon as he stepped outside and was hit by the rain, his morale dropped back to zero.

He hated feeling this heavy, he hated the invisible grip his mind seemed to hold over his body at that moment, he just wanted to be carefree. Instead he found himself nervously playing with his fingers as he waited to start his car, dreading having to come back home but not because of Axl but the lack of control over himself.

Running a hand through his already frizzy hair, he took a deep breath. He wasn't like him to be this emotional and probably everything would have been over by tomorrow yet he hated being stuck into the present.

"Get it together, Slash. Axl's probably worried".

Axl. Slash didn't stop thinking about him even in the recording booth, hoping that his mood didn't drop down too much or that he didn't have any accidents. He didn't exactly know how to call them, they didn't seem like panic attacks: he just knew Axl wouldn't move and started crying and screaming. This type of weather didn't seem to be forgiving with him either, which made Slash lose his cool even more.

After what had seemed ages, Slash finally entered his house, only to be met with the kitchen door closed. He raised his eyebrow in confusion, usually Axl would jump on him as soon as he heard the front door unlocking but there was no sign of him.

"Ax, where are you?" He asked, with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Kitchen, do not come in". Axl yelled. "Go to the living room, I'll join you soon".

"Okay". Now Slash was freaking out a bit. Did Axl want to talk about something? Or worse, did something happen?

What the hell was happening? He and Axl went through the worst shit and came out still together. Yeah and so did Slash's parents before divorcing. He started to run his bracelets up and down his wrist as the faint sound of rain came back. Maybe the rain was really cursed. He stopped dead in his tracks once he noticed the TV on, more precisely showing a VHS screen movie.

Fidgeting with the remote, he couldn't help but smile once he saw the title popping up on the screen. He had no idea if it was a case or if Axl really picked it up  for him but either way his heart skipped a beat, not out of anxiety this time. Slash sat down and kept playing with the remote, patiently waiting for Axl until muffled steps could be heard.

"Close your eyes". The redhead demanded.

"What?"

"I know it's stupid but it's a surprise, so close your eyes".

Slash gave up, covering his eyes with his hand and waiting for Axl's instructions. Was he about to give him something? Or maybe Axl was about to tease him by wearing Slash's clothes again. Either way, he started to feel a hot rush.

"You can open them".

Certainly what met Slash's eyes was very curious: a big bowl of potato chips, some homemade cupcakes, two sliders and... spiders? Taking a closer look he realized the spiders were just chocolate balls and that the potato chips were bat shaped, meanwhile both the cupcakes and the sliders had received some Halloween decoration.

"Wow".

"I stopped at the supermarket. It's all pre-made shit and Halloween kits for kids, don't flatter yourself by thinking I would cook for you". Axl's harsh tone hid all his insecurities, starting from the way his eyes dropped down and his body language was ready to fight.

One of the hardest things Slash had to come to terms with was to learn Axl's way of interpreting the world: his stepfather and the people around him growing up made sure to install some beliefs that were hard to eradicate, resulting in Axl always being ready to pounce to avoid being disappointed.

"Of course. But still, thank you". He wanted to use more meaningful words but they seemed to die in his throat, overwhelmed by such a nice gesture. Just like that, Axl managed to help him forget the pouring rain outside and instead warm his heart.

Slowly, he pressed the play button while waiting for Axl to sit next to him. Just like earlier, he didn't force or initiate any contact but soon enough his boyfriend was leaning his head on his shoulder and Slash made sure to hold him in his arms. Soon, his hand found his way to Axl's lower back and he started to gently rub it while, on the TV, the main character started to raise their voice, making Axl scooping a bit closer to him.

"Are you sure you are not afraid?" Slash teased him.

"Fuck you". Axl replied.

"At least let's wait until the end of the movie". Slash regretted saying those words as soon as they left his mouth but Axl didn't seem to be offended or scared. Instead, he started to trace Slash's tattoos while the other man resumed his rubbing.

Eventually, all the sounds started to blend and it became increasingly harder to focus when he could feel the redhead's breathing on his neck, sending tingly sensation all the way down to his back. Soon, his lips found Axl's cheeks as he planted a kiss. His boyfriend responded by kissing him back on his mouth, the sugary taste of the cupcake still lingering and Slash's hands gripped every inch of Axl's back, soaking in the warmth irradiating from the skin until they parted away.

"God, they are so fucking stupid! Why don't they just hide?" Axl broke the silence.

“They can't hear you”. Slash shot back with a smile.

“I don’t care, they are still idiots!”

The guitarist decided to stay silent, preferring to position his body so that Axl could hold him. The redhead didn’t let the opportunity slide, starting to play with Slash’s hair almost as if he was a cat, earring a happy sigh from the other man. While his mind was still focused on the movie, his brain and thoughts seemed to be shut by Axl’s touch, his heartbeat slowed and the heaviness surrounding it seemed to be lifted at every fingertips on his skin.

Maybe this was the solution for rainy days: stay in each other’s arms forever. Slash liked that idea, anything that could make his brain shut and his heart happy.

–

Hands, all over Axl’s body. Purple bruises started appearing all over his pale skin but it wasn’t the worst sensation at that moment: the little droplets falling from his hair and his clothes bothered him more. He was shivering but he wasn’t allowed to change, he wasn’t punished enough according to his stepfather.

“You dared to say that?! On the Lord’s Day!” Axl’s heart started to beat so fast that he thought he could have died right there.

He kinda wished he did. It would have been better.

He stayed silent while his throat was closing up. How many times did he have to relive that? Wasn’t the torture enough? The water even started to burn, leaving marks alongside his bruises. It wasn’t supposed to happen… why was he burning?

“You’re the devil, William. I know Lucifer is inside you, but I’ll get it out”.

His airways were definitely closed now… he knelt to the floor, gasping for air and only later he realized what was happening: two strong hands were around his throat, choking him out. His eyes started to get heavy, his vision blurry but he waited for the voice, his angel’s voice, the one who seemed to always rescue him whenever he was having a nightmare. But this time the voice didn’t come, instead Axl collapsed on the floor and his stepfather’s grin was the last thing he saw before waking up.

Once his eyes were open, he started to feel the space next to him waiting to meet Slash’s body but instead his finger clashed with the cold sheets. His heart started to beat faster but he opted to focus his ears, hoping to listen to the shower running, but instead it was met with silence.

“He left you”. His brain supplied him.

It couldn’t be, there were no reasons for Slash to leave like that, it had to be something else. The suffocating sensation seemed to come to reality again, forcing Axl to run on low oxygen as he started to walk the bedroom in circles. The windows were tainted with raindrops again, which only increased Axl’s worry: if it was pouring, why did Slash leave?

“Because he is sick of you. You didn’t let him sleep last night”.

“No”. The redhead replied out loud, sitting on his bed.

It couldn’t be, it wasn’t the first time he had nightmares so why leave now? It didn’t make sense. He started to pick the skin around his finger, desperately trying to keep himself lucid and to find a plausible answer to all of this. His throat still felt like he was being strangled and the rain seemed to only get louder each second passed.

“You have fucking done it William. You deserve to be left alone, in your sins”.

Axl immediately covered his ears with his hand as strong as he could, until he could feel his finger digging into his skull. Maybe if he held that position long enough everything would have been okay… maybe he was having a nightmare again and he just needed to wake up. The sound of the rain, the feeling of having cotton into his ears and his stepfather’s voice all melted together, making him unable to move or hear anything. He just wanted Slash back, he needed him so bad.

“Axl?” The voice at the back of his mind seemed to mock him, reminding him of the man he had lost.

“Axl, it’s me. Can you turn around please?” The voice said again, this time not just in his head. 

Collecting all his energies, Axl’s body moved only to be met with Slash’s worried face. He almost wanted to laugh at the sick joke his mind was playing on him, until he felt a cold sensation under his fingertips: Slash’s bracelets were damp and laying under his hand.

“You’re back.” He managed to choke out. His stepfather was wrong and Axl was so relieved. 

“Of course I am.” Slash said, like it was so obvious. Little did he know, Axl's brain was still screaming at him. 

The guitarist held his hand, waiting for his boyfriend to either take it or ignore it. Axl’s body felt the urge to squeeze it, to grasp it until he would feel safe again and beg him to never leave him again. He only used a fraction of his strength, he held Slash’s hand feeling the cold rings against his palm, a weirdly calming sensation.

The rings were there. He was there.

“You were gone. I opened my eyes and the bed was empty”. He hated himself so much for saying those words, for using that lost puppy tone as if he wasn’t an adult and him and Slash hadn’t been together for years now.

“Ax, I’m sorry! I thought it would take less time, but this fucking rain slows everything down”. He gently started to rub circles on Axl’s fingers while his free hand went to grab a plastic bag.

The redhead couldn’t help but feel chills all down his arms at the sudden touch. Once again, he was disgusted with himself for being so scared even of the guy that did nothing but support him. How much patience had Slash left? Was the breaking point near and was he pushing him to it?

No wonder nobody loved you, you’re a fucking piece of work.

Shaking his head, he grabbed the bag that soon revealed a small pale yellow box with a writing on it : Macy’s. It was Axl’s favorite bakery, located on the other side of the town. 

“Slash… what the fuck did you do?!” The singer cringed at how bad his tone sounded. God, he was a real asshole, the guy drove through the rain and that was how Axl thanked him. “You’re crazy, it’s pouring out there!” He corrected himself.

His boyfriend shrugged his shoulders and moved some strands of hair out of his face. Axl was glad to see that the dark light that seemed to taint his eyes the previous day was replaced by a usual tiredness, both a blessing and a curse of how well the movie night went but also how little he let Slash rest.

“It wasn’t that bad when I left the house, it got worse on the way there and the fucking traffic… oh man, people seem to forget how to fucking drive in situations like these!” He chuckled, releasing Axl’s hand. “Now open that box, little shit”.

A strong sugary smell invaded his nostrils as he lifted the container to reveal four chocolate cookies, all looking insanely pretty and incredibly delicious. Axl stared at the food then back to Slash, who had a pleased smile pasted on his face, clearly enjoying the good outcome of his mission.

“Thanks”. The redhead’s voice was barely audible, probably he should have spoken louder to not seem ungrateful but the words died in his throat a bit. After an initial hesitation, Axl went to take a bite out of his food, only to be interrupted by Slash’s voice.

“Wait! I forgot to start the coffee machine. Shit, gimme me a minute, okay? I’ll go in the kitchen and I’ll be right back”.

“There’s no need to…” Axl started but his boyfriend was already gone.

Putting his cookie aside, Axl’s heart was still beating faster than normal and he couldn’t figure out why. Slash was just in the kitchen, he wouldn’t leave. He knew it wasn’t what was bothering him anymore, then why his hands were starting to get sweaty? 

You gotta repay him.

The realization hit him like a truck, making his eyes wander all over the room. He didn’t think he had the energy to return the favor back to Slash but what if that disappointed him?

You did the whole movie thing the other day. Slash would never ask anything in return. 

His rational side chimed in, making the redhead exhale loudly only to be crushed with doubt again: would really that be the case? Or the fairytale would end soon? In his confused state, he didn’t even notice his hands starting shaking neither the soothing pressure and the overgrowing heat, only when his hand felt like burning he realized that he was helding a hot mug and that the pressure was from Slash’s hands over his. 

Stuffing down the urge to jump away, he waited a moment while Slash quickly snatched away his hands, looking almost mortified. Axl wanted to punch himself so bad, maybe he should have or maybe break the old lamp in the living room.

“Sorry”. Slash said and then he took a sip out of his coffee.

The redhead shook his head and tried his best to give the other man a convincing smile, opting to focus on drinking his mug. The silence seemed to prolong for hours even if it was five minutes at best, the time to drink their coffees and eat their cookies, while letting occasionally satisfying noises of approval at the decadent dessert.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you what happened at the store! Dude, LA is fucking crazy!” Slash broke the silence and Axl’s heart started to beat normally again.

“Wanna get in the bed and tell me? It’s freezing here”. Axl said, sliding under the sheets.

Slash grinned and happily followed his boyfriend, opening his arms and waiting for Axl to cuddle against him, which didn’t take much time. He made sure to move as slowly as possible and the singer was grateful for that. The calming voice of the guitarist, who progressively got more excited in telling his story, made every voice and thought in Axl’s mind dissapear.

He didn’t realize the rain started pouring again, too busy listening to Slash and feeling his arms around his body. Whoever thought that the solution for rainy days was a morning spent in bed and Slash’s contagious laugh as he talked about a old lady yelling to sue the bakery because “they run out of oatmeal cookies”.

[fallen-gravity]

One Call Away

It's 1982. Somewhere in New Mexico, Stan recieves a phone call from not-quite his brother. Someone is threatening to take his life. Whether Ford himself is desperately reaching out for help, or someone else entirely has him at gunpoint, Stan knows one thing for sure: He needs to find him and fast.

Alternatively: An AU where the payphone Bill used to call Stan while posessing Ford worked, and Stan is actually forced to listen to his "brother" threaten to kill himself.

Notes:

Caution: This fic has MAJOR spoilers for The Book of Bill. Proceed with caution.

Author's Note 2 Electric Boogaloo: God, this book has had a huge grip on my psyche all week. I'm losing my mind. I'm going absolutely feral. I lost my shit at the section of the Missing Journal 3 Pages where Ford revealed that Bill tried to make a phone call in his name to Stan threatening to kill himself. I audibly gasped. I read it three times. God. I'm insane.

No character death tag because nobody dies! This fic ends on a positive note, I promise :')

AO3 Link

Or under the cut:

When you’ve been scamming suckers out of their money as long as Stan has, you come to learn to expect that anything can happen. You learn to tend to your own injuries, you learn the best escape routes, you learn as many languages as you can in case you need to flee the country, you learn to disappear without a trace; when you expect everything, you learn to let nothing surprise you.

When you have a public phone line that anyone can call, you learn to expect that only about half of those calls are gonna be potential new customers eager to try out your products. When you’ve been relying on these new customers to provide the money for your next meal, you tend to pay attention to patterns; you notice when your commercials air, how many customers are likely to call in, and how long it takes for customers to realize they’ve been scammed and call back demanding their money back. To most, it looks like the world’s most elaborately thought out scam they’ve ever seen. To you, it’s survival.

Expect everything so you can be prepared for anything. That’s how Stan sees it, anyway. As long as he’s prepared, nothing can catch him off guard. If he knows what’s coming, he’ll never have to wake up in the trunk of a car with his hands tied behind his back ever again.

Unfortunately for Stan, though, that means being hyper-alert at all times, even in his sleep, so even the most mundane of noises can wake him up. If the couple in the hotel room next to him drops a bottle of shampoo in the shower, he’s gonna hear it and wake up. 

If the phone starts ringing at god-knows-when in the morning, he’s going to shoot up awake, even if it just turns out to be some dumb telemarketer trying to reach him about his car’s extended warranty.

The alarm clock on the hotel nightstand tells him it’s nearing four-thirty in the morning when the complimentary phone in his hotel room starts ringing. 

That’s…strange. There’s no way that could be a customer, because Stan never bothered to buy commercial spots for late night and prime time television. For one, prime time is incredibly expensive and has too many competitors who are selling actual products, and secondly, Stan’s found that he has the most success when he advertises on the daytime soap opera channels, because that’s when all the bored housewives and old folks’ homes are likely watching TV. 

Could it be someone he’s pissed off? No, that doesn’t make any sense either, because they don’t usually have the courtesy to call before they show up with a shotgun or twelve. It can’t be Ma, since she usually calls when Pa goes away on his weekend trips to Atlantic City. 

Nothing’s adding up. Every fiber in his being is telling him not to answer.

And yet… 

He fears more for what will happen to him if he doesn’t answer. 

He pats his hair down, takes a deep breath, and picks up the receiver. 

“You’ve reached Stan-Co! Totally authentic and worthwhile products. If you need it, I have it. Stan’s your man. How can I legitimately help you today?”

“Stanley!” replies an all-too familiar voice, one he hasn’t heard in nearly ten years. “Just the man I wanted to see!” he says, despite not being able to see him and having been the one who called first. 

“Wh- Stanford?!? The hell are you doin’ calling my infomercial line?” Stan splutters, too shocked to even bother trying to keep his voice down. 

“Awww, that’s not a very nice hello for your favorite brother, is it?” Ford’s voice replies, sounding like he’s suppressing hysterical laughter. 

Something’s wrong.

 Stan may not have spoken to his brother in years, but he can instantly tell that something’s wrong.

“Stanford, what the hell is going on?”

There’s a short pause, and then Ford blows a raspberry into the receiver. “You’re no fun! I thought for sure you’d cry like a baby when I called!” 

Yeah, okay, something is definitely wrong. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on, Ford? Why the hell are you calling me so late? Why me? I thought you hated my guts!”

“Oh, I do!” Ford replies without a drop of hesitation, giggling like a madman. “But I don’t have much time, and there’s something really important I need to say, and you’re the only person I want hearing what I’m about to say.” There’s something…off about the way he sounds, not quite the slur of someone who’s drunk and far too energetic to be that of someone lacking sleep. But there’s something almost garbled about it, like he’s not all that aware of what he’s saying, and if Stan listens close enough he’s sure that he can hear an echo.

But Stan can recognize the cheap, static-y sound of someone calling from a payphone anywhere. Wherever Ford is, he’s calling from outside, and the last time Stan checked the only places outside that echoed were either very high up, very dangerous, or both of them put together. Stan does his best to repress the lump forming in his throat trying to imagine what kind of danger he possibly could’ve gotten himself into, especially if he felt the need to call him, rather than the cops, but he still can’t quite shake the tremble in his voice when he replies.

“Not much time? C’mon, Ford, don’t say that! I can help you! Screw this cold shoulder bullshit! I can help you! Just tell me what’s going on so we can figure this out together!”

An eerily long pause, and the next time Ford speaks it’s as if he brought the phone as close to his mouth as he possibly could. 

“You’re too late,” he replies, colder and more dismissive as Stan’s ever heard in his entire life. “I’m going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back, so if you don’t hear from me, I just want you to know that it’s because I never loved you. Buh-Byeeeeee!” 

“WAIT!” Stan screeches, and thankfully it’s enough to stop Ford from hanging up. “Ford, c’mon, there’s gotta be something I can do! You’re acting crazy! I’m not asking anymore, I’m begging! Where the hell are you?”

Another pause. 

Then, a voice that doesn’t sound anything like Ford’s.

“Oh, goody! An audience! You want to watch him die so badly, that’s fine by me! I’ll even hold off just for you!” An ear-shatteringly high pitched cackle. “Gravity Falls, Oregon. If you want him, come and get him.”

“Him?! Who the hell is-” Stan snaps, but before he can ask any more questions, Ford hangs up, and all Stan is left with is the droning buzz of the dial tone.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Either Ford’s lost his mind and really is planning to off himself, or someone else is threatening to do it for him. Shit. Shit. Stan has to go now. Everything else be damned, if he doesn’t leave before this other maniac gets bored of waiting then Ford’s not gonna be there at all when he finally makes it to Oregon. That’s nearly halfway across the country from his hotel in New Mexico as is, so he already doesn’t have any time to spare.

He leaps out of bed, reaching underneath until he finds his duffle bag, and practically tears the place apart trying to get all of his belongings together. There’s something in his gut telling him he’s not coming back any time soon, and even if Ford had miraculously said he was only one state over, Stan isn’t willing to risk leaving behind anything important, weaponry included. How’s Stan supposed to know what kind of bullshit Ford got himself into? How could he live with himself if he assumed all was well and left his brass knuckles behind, only to find his brother half-dead in an alleyway somewhere? 

He’s not risking it. Even if everything is fine, and Ford had only sounded like that because he was drunk off his ass and had no idea what he was actually saying, Stan’s not risking it.

Even if Ford doesn’t want him in his life, Stan’s not willing to risk losing him. Not again. Not permanently. 

Once he has all his stuff together, Stan scribbles down a half-assed apology for housekeeping and tapes it to the door alongside a twenty dollar bill. He hastily tosses all of his stuff in the back of the car, and speeds off out of the hotel parking lot as if it were his own life on the line. He doesn’t want to think about the worst case scenarios, so for now he focuses only on the road signs for directions to the closest pit stop and hopefully enough energy drinks to last him the twenty-something hour drive he’s about to make. 

Thankfully, the closest one is less than an hour away and open 24/7 to boot, so Stan is sure that his luck is turning around; all he has to do is pop in, grab a few things, and be on his way. He’ll be in Oregon before he knows it.

That is, of course, until he realizes that none of the maps at the place even have a so-called Gravity Falls listed on any of them.

“Uh, hey,” Stan calls out to the worker behind the cash register, who looks like he’s falling asleep where he stands. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Gravity Falls is, do you? Gravity Falls, Oregon?” 

At first Stan’s not entirely sure if the poor guy even heard him, but then the worker eyes him up and down and sighs heavily. “You makin’ fun of me or something?”

Stan blinks. “What? No, A’course not!” he sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t exactly have a lot of time here! I don’t know why I can’t find it on any of your brochure maps, but I’ve got a gut feeling that someone I love is in a lot of danger and I need to get there as fast as I possibly can. Do you know where it is or not?”

For a brief moment the man still doesn’t answer, eyeing him up and down again, before he sighs and leans forward, like the information he’s about to give him is top-secret government information. “Alright,” he whispers, and glances around the store to make sure the two of them are alone. “I’ve heard things. Rumors. Crazy stories about ghouls and goblins and people who come and go without a trace of memory of who they were before they entered that town. I’ve got a general idea of where it is, but I’m not confident. If you’re willing to listen, I’ve got theories.”

Under any other circumstances, Stan would wave him off as insane and book it out of there as fast as he could, but he’s desperate for any information he can get, and he’s not entirely sure when the next time he’ll find anyone even remotely familiar with the town will even be. So Stan agrees, and does his best not to show how insane he thinks this worker is as he starts going off about the supernatural and monsters that sound like they belong in a Saturday morning cartoon. 

If Ford really is anywhere near any kind of place that fits this man’s stories, it’s no wonder he sounded like he was starting to lose his mind. 

After listening to the man ramble on for god knows how long and watching him draw circles in the map where he thinks the town could be, Stan thanks him by actually paying for what he came in for before jumping back into his car and speeding down the highway as fast as he possibly can. 

It’s an agonizing two day drive, only stopped by the times Stan fell asleep at the wheel and forced himself to pull over and take a nap, and the time he was so desperate for food that he pulled off at some truck stop (with admittedly the grossest food he’s eaten since becoming homeless) for a hot meal. If it were up to him, he would’ve done the whole drive in one go, but it was when he nearly careened his car off a cliff trying to stay awake that he realized that he wouldn’t be any good to his brother dead, so he resolved to also take short driving breaks here and there to make sure he kept his energy up; if he really does need to fight someone when he gets there, he’s gonna need all the strength he can get. 

Thankfully, upon arrival at Gravity Falls, Ford’s place of residence is much easier to find than Stan had feared; for a guy who’d been longing for a place he belonged since early childhood, Ford sure likes to stick out like a sore thumb wherever he goes. As soon as Stan goes around town asking townsfolk if anyone had seen anyone who looked like him “except a lot smarter, I guess,” nearly every single person he asks points off in the same direction of the woods and gives him the same confused sort of I think he lives somewhere in there. If he hadn’t gotten it from at least five separate people, Stan would’ve been sure that they were all screwing with him. 

And, as it turns out…every single one of them is right. It doesn’t take that much venturing in the woods for Stan to come across the giant cabin aglow in eerie blue lighting and surrounded by tall fences of barbed wire with pieces of cardboard stapled to it and “KEEP OUT” written on them in shaky handwriting. If Ford is anywhere, it’s here. 

Now…breaking into somewhere he’s not allowed? Stan can do that in his sleep. He’s done it hundreds of times, and he’ll probably do it another hundreds of thousands of times again before he dies.

But… 

Seeing his brother again? 

That terrifies him to his very core. Reason for driving all the way out here aside, there’s still a very real chance Ford’s gonna tell him he still never wants to see him again and slam the door in his face, and then Stan’s really gonna have nowhere to go. After everything, if Stan rescues Ford from whatever’s after him and he still tells him to leave and never come back?

What then?

…No. That’s not what matters right now. He can worry about that later.

With a shake of his head to brush off his thoughts, Stan rams his car into the fence hard and fast enough to topple it to the ground. He drives down the path until he’s close enough to the front entrance that he can hop out of his car as quickly as he can, but hidden enough that he won’t be seen if someone (or something) tries to escape.

Stan takes a deep breath as he exits his car and makes his way to the front door, and finds himself hesitating to knock the door as soon as he’s on the porch steps.

It’s for his own good, Stan tells himself. It’s for his own good. I’m just trying to help. It’s for his own good. 

He stamps down on any last remnants of hesitation and knocks on the door, loud enough for Ford to hear but gently enough to hopefully assure him that it isn’t anyone who wants to hurt him. Almost instantaneously, Stan can hear the sound of objects falling and glass shattering from inside, like a spooked deer trying to dodge the headlights of an oncoming truck. Stan’s sure he can hear the sound of someone muttering, and he’s relieved beyond comparison that it’s the only voice he can hear coming from inside.  

Because he can tell that it’s Ford’s voice. 

Which means he’s still alive.

Stan huffs out a huge sigh of relief, and subconsciously begins patting down the wrinkles in his clothes to make himself more presentable. He waits, and he waits, but despite Stan knowing he heard Ford stumbling around inside, he never comes to answer the door. 

Stan frowns. This is going to be even harder than he thought. Stan tries again, this time knocking exactly six times in the hopes that it’ll clue Ford in on the fact that it’s just him at the door.

As it turns out, though, that seems to be an even bigger mistake than knocking normally, because now the noises coming from inside sound even more frightened. From inside, Stan can hear a muffled string of curse words, followed by the sound of some piece of furniture being knocked over, and finally, the sound of feet trying and failing to sneakily run across a squeaky hardwood floor.  Stan’s about to give up, head into town, and try reaching Ford from a payphone instead, but the door slowly starts to creak open before Stan has the chance to step down from the porch and get back in his car. 

“Stay back!” Ford shrieks, his voice trembling. Stan still can’t quite see him, because he’s too distracted by the crossbow being shoved in his face. “I don’t care who you’re pretending to be, I will shoot if you try anything!”

Ford finally steps out into view, and Stan’s heart falls to his stomach. Sweet Moses, he looks so much worse than Stan ever could’ve imagined. His hair is a wreck, sticking up in some places and sticking to the side of his face in others. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, which Stan can only hope is from crying and not something…worse. There’s a dried streak of blood running down from his right eye, and there’s scratches and cuts splattered around his face. He’s wearing a ratty trench coat, and the white shirt underneath is practically falling off of his body, concerningly torn to bits at the chest area. And from what’s left of the poor shirt, there’s splotches of vomit mixed with some other…unrecognizable liquids.

Stan can feel a foul-tasting bile rising in his throat at the sight of him. Surely anyone else would flee, thinking him to be clinically insane, but Stan refuses to sit around and ignore whatever caused his brother to turn out like…this. 

“Stanford?” Stan splutters, failing to keep the shock out of his voice. “What the ever-loving  fuck is going on?” 

Somehow, that of all things is what seems to snap Ford out of his trance. He’s still clinging to his crossbow, but his fingers aren’t on the trigger anymore and his eyes are already looking less foggy than when he’d opened the door a minute prior. He blinks and rubs at his eyes, and takes a cautious, shaky step forward, like he’s afraid the ground will shatter like glass under his feet if he moves too quickly. 

“S-Stanley?” Ford whispers, more to himself than to Stan, but Stan can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes him. 

He’s not too far gone. There’s still hope. Stan goes to take another step forward, but before he has the chance, all the color drains from Ford’s face.

“Oh no,” Ford whispers, and the crossbow slips from his hand. “Oh no no no no no no no,” he mumbles, retreating back inside without closing the door. He comes back out moments later, gripping a flashlight in one hand and a VHS tape in the other. 

Out of nowhere, Ford grabs Stan by the shoulders, prompting a surprised yelp out of him, and even more out of nowhere, Ford takes the flashlight and flashes it in his eyes. 

“Ow! What gives!?” Stan exclaims, pulling himself out of Ford’s grip and rubbing at his eyes with his wrist. When his vision finally readjusts from the assault, he’s surprised to see that Ford’s whole posture has relaxed significantly. Sure, he still looks frightened out of his mind, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to shatter to pieces anymore. 

“How long have you been here?” Ford asks, completely ignoring Stan’s previous questions. 

“Uhh…” Stan pauses, admittedly taken aback by the question. “About an hour, I think?” he shrugs. “Had some trouble finding you, since some of the folks I asked around town didn’t seem to know who I was talking about when I asked about you.”

Ford’s eyes widen in horror. “You asked around town about me?” He splutters, but then clears his throat to regain his composure. “Did anyone try to get anything out of you? Were you followed?” 

Stan snorts. “Puh-lease. The most dangerous person around here is probably me, and I haven’t eaten a healthy meal in weeks.” He shakes his head. “Nobody said anything. And if I was followed, I’d know. It’s something you learn to look out for when you’ve been living on the streets for ten years.” There’s a shred more resentment in his tone than he meant for it to be, but it seems to get the message across well enough. Ford sighs, and gestures inside. 

“Come in,” Ford mumbles, his gaze falling to the ground. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time.” Without waiting for Stan, Ford turns heel and hastily returns inside. Stan does his best to follow close behind, but stops dead in his tracks as soon as he steps foot inside. 

The whole place is trashed. 

Trashed far beyond what Stan thought a single human could ever be capable of. There’s papers scattered everywhere, bottles of ink spilled and pooling everywhere, cupboards with holes smashed into the doors, broken plates and twisted rusty nails scattered all over the floor, a concerningly bloodied hammer on the kitchen countertop, multiple windows boarded up with splintered wood, and empty boxes of instant coffee mix strewn all around the kitchen.

Most concerningly of all, there’s a door that leads somewhere that’s covered with scratches and dripping with blood, and Stan’s not entirely sure whether that means something wanted in or if something was desperate to get out. 

Stan’s not entirely sure which thought he prefers. 

He doesn’t have too much time to stew on that, though, because he’s pulled from his thoughts by the loud thwack of plastic being smacked against the wall. He turns to the source of the noise, and he’s surprised to find Ford desperately trying to break the VHS tape in half. When that doesn’t work, he groans in frustration and resolves to throwing it on the ground. 

“Uh…Stanford?” Stan tries, and reaches out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Ford moves swiftly in another direction before he can reach him.

“I can’t do it,” Ford’s voice wavers with emotion. His head droops in defeat, and though his back is turned, Stan can see him cover his face with his hands. “I can’t do it. I’m too late. I can’t do it.”  He starts to shake even harder, like his body wants him to cry but he’s forcing it not to happen because he needs to stay strong.

For who? Himself? For Stan? For someone else?

“Hey, hey…” Stan drops his voice to a whisper, hoping a calmer tone of voice will be more likely to get a proper reply out of Ford. Stan is one-hundred percent not calm, and is in fact getting more and more freaked out the longer he doesn’t get a reply, but the last thing he needs is to stress Ford out even more than he already is. “S’alright. I’m here, okay? Whatever it is I can help you with. I don’t even care if it involves any nerdy-smarts stuff. I can learn it for you. I can help you.”

For a few brief moments, Ford’s heavy breathing pauses. He turns to look at Stan, and it’s hard not to flinch at the fact that he’s looking more and more like a kicked, abused puppy. He looks like he’s genuinely considering replying, even goes to open his mouth, but clamps down on that moments later when another thought seemingly comes to him. 

“I…” he stammers, and violently shakes his head again. “I can’t. I could never.” He starts pacing back and forth in place, rubbing his arms up and down together in a failed attempt to self-sooth. “I wish I could, but…” he trails off, but stops before he can allow himself to finish. He violently shakes his head again, like he’s not allowing himself to even think that things could possibly get better. 

Stan scowls. That’s the last straw. 

“Stanford.” Stan speaks firmly, and grabs at both of his brother’s shoulders. His grip is gentle enough not to hurt him, but strong enough to prevent him from squirming away. As it turns out, though, the strength isn’t very necessary, since Ford practically goes limp in his arms at the touch. 

“Stanford,” Stan repeats as he turns Ford around to force him to look him in the eyes. “I’m not asking anymore. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I know for a fact that I didn’t just haul my ass all the way out to Oregon from New Mexico worried sick to death that my brother was going to kill himself just for him to push me away again. I don’t know if something happened to you after you got rejected from that fancy nerd school, or if someone’s after you, or if you really are thinking about killing yourself. I don’t care if that phone call from the other day was a threat or just a drunk dial you made after watching too much Galaxy Sci-Fi Wars, or what, but I don’t need any of that to see how much trouble you’re in! You’re shaking! You’re hurt! Your house looks like it was hit by every single natural disaster all at once! I don’t care how it happened, I care that it happened. Talk to me, Stanford. I’m not leaving until you talk.”

There’s a heavy pause. Ford’s eyes are darting all around Stan’s face, and Stan’s not quite sure what he’s looking for. He doesn’t look angry or offended, but he doesn’t look all that convinced, either. It’s almost as if there’s a deep-rooted sadness in his gaze, like Ford’s not fully convinced of his honesty, and that breaks Stan’s heart more than anything else.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ford finally replies, breaking eye contact but not bothering to break out of Stan’s grip.

Stan wants to laugh. If the situation were less dire, he would laugh. “Wouldn’t understand?” he replies, gently shaking Ford’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t understand what? Having a target on your back wherever you go? An expensive bounty on your head? You think I don’t understand having to sleep with one eye open? With having to pack everything up as soon as possible because you might not survive the night if you don’t leave? Or do you think I don’t understand being too scared to try leaving, because you feel like the moment you’re out of a so-called ‘safe zone’ is the moment someone’s gonna kidnap you? Or throw you in the trunk of their car? Or do something much, much worse to you? Just because you pissed off the wrong guy? Do y’really think I don’t understand that, Ford? I understand that better than anybody. I understand that better than I’m willing to admit.” 

One final pause, and then Ford sighs heavily enough that Stan can feel the tension slumping off of his body.  Stan finally releases his grip on him, and Stan is hugely relieved to notice that Ford’s posture already looks significantly more relaxed. 

“You’re right,” Ford mumbles, and stretches his arms into the air to try and release any extra remaining tension. “You’re right,” he repeats, and nervously scratches at his chin. “Plus, uh…it probably would be easier to deal with this alongside someone else. I’ve…” he trails off, as if too embarrassed to finish. “I’ve been alone with my…thoughts for far too long. Some human company might do me some good.” 

Stan snorts. “Ha! Listen to yourself. Human company might do me some good. If I’d shown up any later you would’ve turned into a full-time nerd robot!”

Ford cracks the tiniest of smiles at that, whether he’s aware of it or not, and then it’s right back to business as usual. “Alright, fine. You got me.” He rubs at the back of his head. “There’s…someone after me. Someone who wants me dead. I don’t really know how to explain it to you, but it wasn’t exactly…me that called you the other night. I mean, it technically was, since I was the one who was speaking, but it was more like…he was forcing me to say those things. There’s something of mine that he wants, but I’m afraid that if he gets his hands on it, it’s going to hurt a lot of people. No, scratch that, I know it’s going to hurt a lot of people. I know that, and he knows that, and that’s why he wants it. But that’s also why I refuse to give it to him. It’s a big vicious game of cat and mouse. He wants it, I don’t give it to him, he retaliates with violence. There’s no winning.” He takes a deep breath, clearly trying his damn hardest not to spiral again. “Either I give him what he wants or he kills me taking it by force.” He buries his face into his hands. “I can’t do it.” He whimpers. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“...Bullshit.” 

Stan doesn’t even realize he’d blurted that out loud until Ford pulls his face from his hands to stare at him slack-jawed. “Come again?” 

“I said that’s total bullshit.” Stan replies, firmly standing his ground. “Listen, Ford, I’ve been dealing with his type for a lot longer than I’m willing to admit, and lemme tell you something; that’s just what he wants you to think. He wants you to give up and assume everything’s hopeless, because the moment you lose hope and stop fighting is the moment he’ll strike. He wants you to think he’s got no weakness, because that makes it so much easier to exploit yours. Everyone’s got ‘em, Sixer, but only the cockiest and most powerful aren’t willing to admit that they’ve got ‘em, too. And you wanna know a secret? They don’t like to admit they’ve got weaknesses because they know what it does to them. They know the second anyone finds out about their weakness that they’re just like the rest of us. If we know their weaknesses, we can fight back, and that terrifies those suckers to their very core. That’s the kind of stuff that sends them running home to their mamas. If there’s even an inkling of a chance that someone’s gonna knock them off of their pedestal, or that nobody’s afraid of them anymore because we’ve got ‘em figured out, that’s what gets them. They get so obsessed over the power they have on others that they forget to stop and consider that others can have power over them.”

“I’m telling you, Sixer, no matter what this guy tries to convince you, he’s just sayin’ it to keep you complacent. He wants you to think he’s got no weakness because he’s terrified at the idea of losing his power over you. Once you stop letting him control you, he’ll have nowhere else to stand. Once he loses you, he loses everything. It’s not about whether or not you can fight back, it’s about how you’re gonna fight back. Because once you fight back and you take control, he’s gonna have nowhere to run, and then he’s gonna be the one backed into a corner. You can fight back. You can tell him no.”

“B-but-” 

“Up up up, I don’t wanna hear it” Stan waggles a finger in his face. “If I’m still alive after all I’ve been through, I sure as hell know that you’re gonna make it, too. If I can chew my way out of the trunk of a car and tunnel my way out of a Colombian prison using nothing but cheap plastic cutlery, you can break away from whatever hold this guy has on you. Don’t sit around and wait for this guy to strike, you gotta stand up and strike first. He’ll never see it coming.” He slaps Ford on the back. “You’re a smart guy, Sixer, I’m sure that you of all people could figure out how to outsmart this guy. 

Ford looks like he wants to believe him, like he wants to hope that things are gonna be okay, but there’s something that’s still tethering him to his fears. There’s the briefest spark of hope in his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly as it arrived.

“I wish I could believe you, Stanley, but Bill, he’s-” Ford starts, but flinches like he’s been shot when he accidentally uses this other guy’s name. It breaks Stan’s heart to see his brother so fearful for his life, but it also makes his blood boil over with rage thinking about the power this guy’s got over him.

 What, is saying his name gonna summon him or something? Did this Bill guy plant bugged cameras all over the house so he could keep a constant eye on Ford so he’ll know if he’s ever thinking of pulling something over his eyes? Is that why Ford’s place is so trashed? Did he tear the place apart looking for secret cameras and hidden microphones? What gives?  

Ford freezes, as if he’s actually expecting this guy to kick his door in, and when nothing happens he audibly sighs in relief. 

Stan crosses his arms. “But what? This Bill guy’s supposed to be different? More powerful? I’m tellin’ ya, he’s no different than any of the other jerks I’ve had to deal with.” He jabs another finger in Ford’s direction. “And even if he was, by some chance? Even if this guy is somehow the most powerful and feared dictator in the whole universe, what’s the first thing I said when I got here?”

Ford goes to respond, but then his cheeks burn red and stops, a clear sign that he’s forgotten. 

“I said I’m here for you. I’m here because I want to help you. I could stand here and lecture you about crime lords all day, but nothing’s ever going to change if you don’t let me help you. I don’t care how big and tough this guy thinks he is! You’re my brother, Stanford. Nothing else matters more to me than my family. You even said it yourself earlier!” Stan throws his arms into the air in an exasperated manner. “Two heads are always gonna be better than one. Two pairs of fists are also always gonna be better in a fight. You don’t have to magically stop being afraid of this guy, but I’m telling you that it’s gonna be a lot easier if you have someone fightin’ the good fight with you. I wish I had someone when I was on the run from Rico and his gang.” 

Ford frowns. “Stanley…” 

“Point is,” Stan waves him off before he can go down a guilt-ridden spiral. “I’m not leaving. Matter of fact, I’m not asking you anymore. I’m telling you. I’m staying. Until we get this whole thing sorted out and send this Bill guy running for the hills, I’m not leaving. Protest all you want, but I’m gonna stay right here by your side until you feel safe again. Hell, I’ll even sleep on the front porch as lookout if you need me to! I’m tellin’ ya, I’m done asking nicely. I won’t let you kick me out this time, Ford. I’m here for ya through thick and thin.” 

For a few painstakingly long moments, Ford doesn’t respond. But he does look like he’s deep in thought, which is a hell of a lot better than all of the flinching and nervous pacing he’s been doing since Stan arrived. If nothing else, that in itself is a huge improvement. But before Stan can start again, Ford pulls a polaroid out of his trench coat pocket, and despite a gentle tear at the corner seemingly from age, it’s looking like the most well-kept object in the entire house. Stan doesn’t bother sneaking a peek out of fear of breaking what little trust he seems to successfully be rebuilding with Ford, but whatever it is seems to bring him a lot of comfort; he only looks at it for a moment, but those few moments are enough to sneak a soft, nostalgic sort of smile onto his face.

“You’re right,” Ford finally says, the calmest he’s sounded all day. “I don’t think there’s any way I could tackle this on my own. But with some help?” He smiles sheepishly. “I think there’s something we could do.”

“There he is!” Stan exclaims, grabbing his brother in a chokehold and giving his hair a rough noogie. “I knew my brother was still in there somewhere!” he grins, and tussles him up one more time before letting go. “And hey, maybe after all this is over you can give Ma a call, eh? She’s worried sick about you, I just know it.”

“Hah!” Ford laughs, tiny sparks of confidence returning to his tone and posture. “Now that’s someone I’m really afraid of upsetting.”

Stan grins, and gives Ford a gentle slug on the shoulder. As hard as Ford’s trying not to show it, Stan can tell he’s starting to enjoy the company. As much as Stan really doesn’t want to admit it, he was desperate for this kind of company again. He watches for a moment as Ford starts to go around cleaning some things off the floor, and Stan can’t help but crack a smile as he goes to join him.

If there’s one thing Stan does want to admit, it’s that he never wants to lose this sort of companionship ever again. Situation be damned, he has his brother back, and that’s more than any material goods he could ever ask for.

Given the situation?

Well, he said he’d stay until Ford wasn’t afraid of this Bill character anymore. But if things were completely up to Stan?

Stan won’t stop until the guy’s dead for daring to mess with his family. 

[freedvmrouge]

Slow Dancing in the Living Room

Word Count: 679

Tags & Warnings: POV Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Steve wakes up alone in bed and heads to the kitchen. Amidst the sudden silence, music rings out from Bucky's phone.

For @stuckybingo R5 / February Monthly Adoptables

Steve woke up blearily, unsure of the time or even what day it was. There was nothing pressing to wake up for, he gathered. Everyone kept saying how he had eidetic memory, and he did. But there was some nuance to that. He needed visual references, for instance, like having it written down. He still needed associations to form those memories, and right then, he wasn’t associating an appointment with— he looked directly at the clock hanging unnecessarily on the opposite wall— a startling one in the morning time slot. 

He was free, unless anyone told him otherwise.

The other thing, though, was that Bucky wasn’t laying beside him in their thousand thread count sheets— or whatever the insane number was; he wasn’t paying attention. It was quickly losing its warmth, so Bucky’d been away for a while now. He could look for him, surely. He could ask FRIDAY for assistance, too.

Steve did none of those things.

Instead, he got up and raided the refrigerator. All of the kitchen’s light was thanks to this one appliance, and the longer he stood there, the colder it was on his skin; compensating for the lost coolness. 

He quickly picked out a pop tart— probably the least nutritious thing he could’ve settled on— and popped it into the toaster. There were only so many things he could handle this late into the night, and cooking was not one of them.

As he waited, he was met with deafening silence. Even the toaster was dead silent.

Steve patted down his pockets to find his phone only to realize a second later that he left it in his room.

Before he could go and grab it, however, he heard the beginning piano notes of Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘Somebody Nobody Loves’-- an otherwise cheerful and optimistic song if you didn’t understand the lyrics. Steve turned his head toward the incoming music, finding Bucky leaning against the front door with his phone out in his left hand; a small smile curled on his lips.

Although I know it sounds alarming; I've prayed on bended knee; For that certain gay Prince Charming; Who was meant for me.

Steve couldn’t help but laugh out loud, the pressure tickling his sides and pushing out of his throat easily.

“You couldn’t have picked a more solemn song for one in the morning,” he said with rolled eyes.

Bucky’s smile widened and he shrugged. “What can I say? I was going through it tonight.”

Steve’s laugh teetered off, and he looked at his partner with soft eyes; watching him closely. He could see how Bucky’s eyes were a little red, and the end of his pajama sleeves had only recently dried.

The song continued to play, even as Bucky shut the front door and traversed the living room toward him. 

Steve met him halfway, somewhere behind the outrageously large living room couch. He gathered Bucky in his arms as soon as he was within reach. He pressed a kiss atop the other’s head as Bucky settled against him, ignoring the windswept hair and cool fabric under his palms. Bucky likely went to the roof for some alone time despite the low temperatures.

They stood there in the comfort of one another’s warmth. He didn’t move, even when his pop tart was ready, and toasted just how he liked it.

Instead, he closed his eyes as they started swaying in place with no real intention to dance. He felt Bucky’s breath coming out calm and steady as the song continued. Steve hummed lowly into the darkness, following the happy tune of the music. 

When the song finished, another soon started up with a gentle cello or some other. Steve didn’t pay attention to the words this time, and neither did he stop swaying with Bucky; enjoying the moment as it was— without any expectations to perform, not even in the bright light of a stage or dance hall. 

Just the two of them, swaying in the dark as the sweet scent of artificial blueberries wafted through the air, and that was enough.

[bondew]

I got bored- I love my freckled, fluffy red head! (Oh Cade, u and ur neatly brushed hair are loved too)

Two Bathroom Stalls.

Cadence Lane.

The piercing sound of my alarm rings in my ear the next morning. It’s around 6am and I’ve only slept for 4 hours. I stumble to the mirror and I flip it back to face me. As the sun peeks from under the curtains I brush my hair so it doesn’t reflect my mind. My room is completely clean, well excluding my desk drawers. I shove on a tight black turtle neck and white dress pants. I don’t change my black stud earrings, I don’t really have any other pairs anyway. I swing my bag onto one shoulder and slide on my loafers as I step out.

Tossing a mint into my mouth a sudden hoard of people pile into the hallway. They sound like squawking vultures as they push past me. I run my hand through my hair and make my way downstairs. My first class is at 8, I was meant to finish my project last night but because of the situation I have to do it this morning. I skip breakfast and end up in the library. Without saying a word I sit down and open up my laptop. Skimming through the essay I quickly edit it, I’m confident that I won’t miss any mistakes. There is hardly ever any, I am the top of the class for a reason.

I put my earbuds in and open up my notebook. My peace doesn’t last long, the stampede of boys stride into library. I notice one of them sneak away from the group as they wander around and talk to girls. He heads to the non-fiction section and grabs a thick, hard covered book about bugs. My computer is still open so when he decides to ignore all the other free tables and sit in front of me he is partly blocked out. I can see his freckled forehead and fluffy orange hair over the top of my screen but this decreases as he slumps down and starts to read. Shaking my head back to reality I tap on my page with a pen and start to write. My playlist is open on my screen and every time a song changes I glance up.

I’ve basically fallen asleep but when a book slams closed I suddenly jolt up.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you! U-uh I have to get to class!” The orange-haired boy says as he runs out of the room. Glancing at my watch I gather my stuff and sprint out just behind him. I arrive in the lecture room just before the clock hits 8, I’m panting and all eyes are on me. Fixing my hair I stand up straight and rush to a seat before anyone says anything.

Dazz Shawn.

It was probably a mistake choosing to study literature and theatre. I basically have no free time. I’m only a couple minutes late and luckily the director doesn’t seem to care. Dropping a heavy book about bugs and my tote bag on the floor I head backstage where I’m warmly welcomed.

We do a lot of theory in theatre obviously, I mean it is still a university class but today we have prac, the best part. For some weird reason the teacher randomly decided this year was the year we were going to do a performance! I mean I’m not unhappy, I love plays! But it was kinda out of the blue. I landed the male lead somehow so.. um yeah. I can’t really afford to be late to class anymore. The stage has been prepped with half-painted sets and random boxes since somebody lost the proper ones.

I washed my hair this morning so it’s all kinda fluffy and sticking out weirdly, nobody has really noticed. Not like I expect them to anyway! Like it’s just washing my hair.. haha. Um.. thankfully all my friends are studying things like, physics, sports science and mathematics so I don’t have to embarrass myself in-front of them when I’m horribly acting.

“Oh, by the way Dazz! You obviously know that we are doing Romeo and Juliet but just confirming you’re all good for the kiss?” My teacher interrupts my train of thought while I’m sitting on the edge of the stage. My legs instantly stop swinging and I go bright red.

“Yeahhh.. wait who’s Juliet again..” I struggle out.

“Right!” He flips his clipboard, “Hmm.. oh right of course! It’s Olivia Irwin!” He looks at me and smiles innocently.

“Yep! Ok all good!” I say quickly. Like obviously I knew I was going to have to kiss someone like it’s Romeo and Juliet for gods sake! But Olivia?! She’s like the prettiest, most talented person ever! Well atleast in this school!

Now don’t get the wrong idea I definitely don’t have a crush on her! Like I don’t really have a type but I just can’t date or crush on someone who has seen me trip into like three paint buckets!

[wyattjohnston]

everything that we should be - jack hughes

note: this is part of the we don't have no time to waste series

word count: 1,378

summary: Jack and Daisy spend another Christmas together.

warnings: underage drinking but nobody gets silly

Daisy had been awake for nearly an hour, lying in bed on her phone waiting for Jack to wake up. She didn’t want to wake Jack up after he’d made such a big deal about sleeping in and not being woken by an alarm clock, so it was nearly half past nine and she had accomplished nothing other than scrolling through her mostly dead Twitter feed.

Ten o’clock arrived before Jack began to stir, first with a couple of twitches and then with a grunt as he screwed his eyes shut before they flew open dramatically.

“Do you always stare at me like this when you wake up first?” he asked, his voice slow and mumbled.

Daisy buried herself further under the covers, low enough that they were up around her ears. She shuffled closer to Jack, pressing her mouth against his and ignoring a healthy dose of morning breath just as he did for her.

She said, without a hint of sarcasm, “Only when I’m waiting for a present.”

Jack’s eyes shut, so Daisy poked at his bare chest until he smirked. He tugged her until she was pressed up against him and her arms were pinned by his, leaving her unable to poke him at all.

“Are Ty and Luke up?”

“Someone is, don’t know who. They don’t have presents for me, though.”

“I don’t either,” he said, deadpan. “I’m Jewish. Don’t do Christmas.”

Daisy rolled her eyes and freed one of her arms so that she could facewash him, “Shut up.”

He’d been hyping up the present he’d bought her for weeks, since she handed over a present on the final day of Hannukah. It was the culmination of what was essentially an advent calendar with things like Christmas themed bath bombs, a new phone case that may-or-may-not have had a drawing of himself on it, a slew of scented candles and a colouring book set complete with a ludicrous number of coloured pencils.

Jack groaned dramatically, rolling out of the bed. Daisy followed him out into the living room, wrapping the blanket from the couch around herself as she sat down beside the tree. Jack disappeared into Ty’s room and came back with a decent sized box.

She sat up straighter and wasted no time ripping into the wrapping paper. Her expectations were along the same lines as what she’d already been given, something small and sentimental because that’s what he was good at. The Gucci logo on the front of the box was not what she had been anticipating.

“Jack…”

“Did I do good?” he asked, his face lighting up hopefully. “I saw it on your phone.”

She didn’t have to open the box to know what it was; honestly, she knew what it was before Jack even mentioned having seen it. Her fingers traced over the embossed logo, “I was saving up for it. It’s expensive, Jack.”

“I make NHL money, it’s not expensive.”

“You make entry-level money,” she countered.

“8 year and 64 mil extension, baby,” he said. The contract he’d signed at the beginning of the month was never going to be something Daisy could comprehend.

Daisy lifted the lid to the box carefully. She, like everybody else in his life, had been trying to drill some fiscal responsibility into him. It wasn’t like the black disco bag was going to break the bank, it just hadn’t been something she’d expected him to buy her.

“Thank you,” she said upon seeing the bag. “I can’t believe I own a Gucci bag.”

Jack stooped down to kiss her, saying, “You’re gonna own so many Gucci bags. And expensive dresses and shoes and whatever else you want, yeah?”

“Okay, Mr NHL Money,” Daisy mocked, her eyes barely leaving the bag.

It was Luke’s voice that cut through their moment, loud and disgusted, “Do you both still have your clothes on?”

“Yes, asshole,” Jack called back before he kissed Daisy again. “He’s never staying here again.”

Ty and Luke did have presents for Daisy, just like she had presents for them, so they all sat down in front of the tree together—it was more or less an exchanging of gift card than presents, which suited them all just fine—before they realised that they did need to start getting ready for their day.

It had been agreed sometime during November that PK would host Christmas lunch, and then unanimously accepted that that meant he was having most of the food catered. It was going to be amazing, nonetheless, and Daisy knew that for a fact because this was the second year, she was getting to experience it.

Daisy made everybody wait an extra five minutes so that she could swap everything into her brand-new bag. Jack stood in the doorway to their room, his shoulders pulled back and his chest puffed out while he watched.

An assortment of players and their partners were there, the ones who wouldn’t get to see their families. There were proper place settings on the table, purely for decoration, so Daisy picked up her own and placed it down in the empty seat beside Nico, moving Dougie down the table.

“You talk to those boys all time,” Daisy said before Nico could even ask, “We never get to chat.”

“Hello, Daisy. Schöni Wiehnachte,” he said cheerily.

“Merry Christmas, Captain. Have you spoken to Stef today? What’s she doing?”

“Sleeping. We do Christmas things on the 24th so she’s recovering.”

Daisy knew a secret, that Stef was most certainly studying and not sleeping because she was giving up valuable time for her master’s degree over the winter break to surprise Nico. Daisy just smiled and kept her mouth shut, though, because there wasn’t another soul in the room who knew about the plan she had concocted.

There was a lot of alcohol flowing throughout lunch, as well as multiple jokes thrown around at Jack and Luke’s expense for being too young to drink, that then led onto many light-hearted jokes about Jack dating an older woman—it was true, by a whopping eight months. Nobody cared if either of them had some a beer or a glass of wine, despite the jokes.

After they’d eaten, Jack and Daisy wandered away from the group into a quieter room, largely because Jack’s hand had been wandering up and down Daisy’s thigh throughout their meal. Though they were never shy about being all over each other, knowing what was acceptable in what environment was important so PK’s empty front room was where they ended up.

Perhaps it was inappropriate for Daisy to climb onto Jack’s lap, straddling him lazily as soon as he sat down. Perhaps a lazy but heavy make out session was inappropriate for a Christmas lunch. Perhaps they had been caught in so many precarious positions since Daisy moved to New Jersey that neither of them were bothered anymore.

Luke’s retching sounds were probably the most dramatic Daisy had ever heard; she couldn’t begrudge him, though, given their position. She looked back over her shoulder, wiping the back of her hand over mouth.

Ty was standing with Luke, neither of them were shocked at what they were seeing.

“You’re allowed to get a spray bottle, like they do with cats,” Luke told Ty, holding out an imaginary spray bottle and pulling the trigger in Jack’s direction. “You can’t get Daze, though, because he’ll lose his fucking mind.”

“I lost my mind because we were dressed up to go out and you fucked it all up—you never tried it again so shut it.”

“We’re at your teammates house. Mum would be so disappointed in you.”

“They’re mostly clothed,” Ty commented. “We’ve seen worse.”

Luke retched again.

Daisy turned back to Jack, kissing him once softly before she moved out of his lap and lamenting that they should probably head out and leave PK to his house. Jack couldn’t even nod before Luke was making a comment about getting back to their own house before they made a baby.

The short walk back took longer than the walk to PK’s, their limbs heavy with food and alcohol and their minds distracted by the Christmas lights and decorations in yards that had been turned on when the sun went down.

Please consider leaving feedback—reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

[ackerfics]

omg i loove your modern!levi as boyfriend it makes me soft❤️ do u have any hcs of him in a modern au when it comes to bed? like how he cuddles and wakes you up? or how he reciprocates to your touch when it gets steamy?

oooooh i know this is long overdue but modern!levi still makes my heart beat like crazy and i have a few hcs of him in the modern world :>> here's modern!levi being the best boyfriend when it comes to anything related to the bed (i should've phrased this better but screw it)

let's start with this list by chronological order, based on the things we do during the day.

the way modern!levi wakes you up depends on his mood, really. if he's running on less than three hours of sleep (if his classes demand hectic requirements), expect him to be cranky (just a little bit) but he'll still gently shake you awake with his pet name for you even before your alarm clock rings, just because. even if he's got a full six-hour sleeping time, he'll still wake you up before your alarm. according to him, alerting you before your alarms pierces your ears can slowly stir you awake without you groaning at your alarm clock.

"wake up, love. breakfast is ready."

"just five more minutes."

"i don't have the time for this right now. stand up or i'll eat the egg fried rice all by myself. you know i have a huge appetite if i sleep for only two hours."

"okay, okay, i'm up!"

levi wakes up before you to prep the breakfast for the day. this is something he did after witnessing you running out of the apartment with only a piece of toast. he promised that he'll be cooking for you for the rest of your life with him. if he slept for more than five hours last night (which is almost everyday now so yey), he'd wake you up with small kisses on your cheek, humming into your ear in an attempt to tickle you out of your sleep. his smile will never disappear from his face even after you blink up at him. seeing you in such an unfiltered image --- hair all mussed up, eyes softly staring into him in a sleepy haze, and a smile sitting prettily on your lips --- it makes levi so soft that he nearly (key word right there) slide down under the covers beside you.

"good morning, beautiful." levi kisses you on the forehead. he just can't stop roaming his lips on you when you look this pretty early in the morning in his eyes.

"good morning, baby. this is such a nice way to wake up."

"i wake you up like this everyday. get up, let's eat breakfast, yeah?"

nobody would've guessed that one of levi's favorite things are your cuddles.

if he goes home feeling all drained from the constant lectures in your university and if he finds you in your shared bed browsing through your social media accounts, levi will instantly go to where you are and plop himself on top of you while you let out an amused laugh at the added weight on your body. he'd stay like that for about thirty minutes, either snuggling more into the crook of your neck or burying his face on your chest as if that was his safe haven at the moment. please run your fingers through his hair, he absolutely loves that. your touch alleviates all the tension in his body and he will willingly let himself sink into the ocean in his life that's named after you.

cuddling with levi in general can happen both ways, you two will exchange as the big spoons if you feel like it. if he's the little spoon, he chooses to face you with his face right in front of your neck. he'll place gentle kisses on the hollow of your throat before falling asleep. if he's the big spoon, he'll hug you as if he'll never let you go. it's so tight that you can feel his heartbeat on your back. levi will occasionally press kisses on the back of your neck and your jaw to let you know that he's always there for you. cuddling with levi doesn't require turning on the heater, his furnace-like warmth is all you need to lull you into a dreamless sleep.

now, the suggestive part djkjdnem

levi's touch is always so soft when it comes to things getting heated. he's afraid to hurt you unintentionally when his mind gets filled with thoughts of you in that see-through nightgown. his heart is pounding but he doesn't press his fingertips too much on your skin. he treats you as if you're his salvation --- his goddess that he worships and offers his life to. he's so vulnerable when it comes to you and the moonlight is the only witness to him whispering his emotions through the dead of the night, all for your ears only --- always. levi's kisses are the same, too, but if the physical contact isn't enough, he'd wantonly kiss you as if it's your last day on earth.

"levi, i want you."

"you don't have to say anything, beautiful. i'll give my everything to you."

he prefers slow, gentle, and tender. he wants to feel you for a longer span of time and he wants to relish skin to skin contact with you. this is why you two will probably last until three in the morning because he will never stop. if he senses that you're becoming tired, he'll stop connecting your bodies and instead trail hot kisses on your skin to calm your rapid breathing, pouring his feelings for you close to your ear as you drowsily smile at him in that beautiful way of yours. but seeing you overstimulated always makes him weak so that will probably get him riled up. though he keeps it in because you're getting tired and sleepy.

"one more time, okay? fuck, you're so gorgeous, love. fuck, fuck, fuck, where do you want me to come, beautiful? ah."

"inside, levi --- ah!"

"fuuuckk, you're so amazing. you take my breath away. i love you so much."

"i love you just as much, levi, always."

your shared bed will always creak tho if he wants to get rough in your lovemaking. rip bed. he'll grip the headboard so tight when he loses himself into showing how much he loves you, one hand gripping wood while the other cups your cheek like you're the most fragile thing he ever held in his life. rip headboard the next morning. don't worry, he'll fix it.

therefore i conclude, modern!levi is The Boyfriend. and i thank you.

[maria-chwan]

What is this morning?

___

_________

Summary: Finished!! Unexplained and crazy shit happens in the morning because the Black Army wants to do favors. Reader didn't expect this. Softness, unexplained craziness. That's it.

Characters: Black Army (Ray, Sirius, Luka, Fenrir, Seth), Reader

_________

___

Sometimes you live a series of moments that feel like a dream. Unrealistic.

Today morning you feel like you are living in a haze. You have to wake up at five a'clock today, to go to work. You have to take the bus and travel almost an hour to the work.

You wake up when your alarm clock goes off. The birds have barely began singing outside.

Instead of being alone in your room, the first thing you see is Seth sitting in the chair in front of your table. Then again, you are too tired to freak out about it. Seth shuts up the alarm with a press of a button. He is sitting with his legs crossed while you keep laying underneath your soft covers for a couple of minutes.

Finally, you get up and softly walk to your closet to change your clothes. It is silent in the room, even though there's two of you and you haven't invited Seth.

You leave the room. The house is silent. Cold gray morning light colors the hallway. You walk to the bathroom with a blank look on your face. It is so early.

You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom. Again, you haven't invited any company. But it's too early. It's understandable that you barely notice Sirius. He emerges like a ghost from the corner of the bathroom while you grab your toothbrush. You don't acknowledge him as he stands there, brushing your hair while you brush your teeth.

Maybe you are listening to music with your headphones, maybe you are not. It is silent in the house. Nobody speaks a word. You don't want to disturb, and you feel undisturbed.

You make yourself breakfast in the kitchen. A simple meal under the gray morning light, just enough to sustain you. Damn, you think to yourself. There is no escaping the long work day you are going to have today.

Nobody else has to wake up this early except you. Your mood is flat, until you notice that it's you and Luka alone in the kitchen.

Luka pulls out a chair for you. He pushes the chair closer to the table after you sit down. You smile slightly.

You remember Seth and Sirius from earlier. Finally, something inflates inside of you. You don't think much about it, but you aren't ignoring it anymore.

You eat. Damn, you think to yourself again. You are going to work early today.

You are like a zombie, being awake at this miserable hour. And damn, you think to yourself. There really is something unexplained and unrealistic happening in the house this morning.

Something with the boys...

It's time to leave the house and go to the bus stop. You may be unmotivated and tired to go to work, but you are smart enough to expect something similar to earlier favors to happen when you go to the front door to put your shoes on.

You are correct in your expectation. When you are putting your shoes on, a coat is being offered and held open for you so that you can slip your arms in the sleeves. You can thank Sirius for that.

You adjust the bag on your shoulder, slowly blinking your eyes. You haven't stopped feeling hazy. It's early in the morning. You step closer to the front door. At the same time you step closer to the hat stand that stands next to the door.

Fenrir is laying on top of the hat stand.

As you reach out to open the door, Fenrir reaches down while balancing himself. He is hanging off from the hat stand while his legs grab it. While reaching out like an acrobat, he holds out a face mask to cover your face.

You stop in your tracks. Fenrir hooks the face mask behind your ears so carefully, without saying a word.

You don't ask. You open the door to see the sunrise. You hear the birds chirp. A slightly disturbing sound in the morning.

You close the door behind you. You walk to the bus stop in a haze. But you are also feeling better. Because the boys did something.

Ray is standing alone in front of the bus stop, dressed in his coat and a sword on his hip. He nods at you and waits without speaking until your bus comes and when it comes, he steps inside with you.

He sits behind you in the bus. You don't speak. He keeps you silent company and when you step out of the bus, he is in the window smiling at you as the bus drives away.

_______

[thiswasinevitableid]

71. you’re famous and you want to hide out in my bookstore which is fine except the stupid paparazzi won’t leave and now there’s a photo of us in the tabloids and they’re printing misinformation and why the fuck won’t you clear this up on your twitter account

Sternclay, NSFW, please!

Here you go! Let's end this round of meet uglies with a bang

The post-holiday slump is always the worst; everyone maxed out their credit cards last month and doesn’t want to buy anything, and the tourists won’t be back until the spring. It’s not that he’s concerned about keeping the lights on; Bookworms is popular and has a prime spot downton. It’s that he’s bored out of his mind.

All his orders for the day are in, everything’s been received and shelved, and he’s running out of things to tidy. If he’s lucky, the clouds that have been threatening a snowstorm since this morning will burst and drive some people to shelter among the stacks.

Dingdong

Thank the lord.

“Welcome to Bookworms, can I help you?”

The man stays by the door, peering through the glass onto the street while pulling off his beanie, “Huh? Oh, uh, nope, just coming in to, uh, get out of the cold.” He turns, and two realizations slap Joseph in the face.

One: this is the hottest man he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Two: He’s seen this man dozens of times, just never in person.

Barclay Cobb is a Food Network darling who got his start on Youtube, sharing recipes from vintage cookbooks he found at garage sales. That’s not why he’s starstruck, but it is probably why the taller man is hiding in the craft books alcove and keeps nervously looking his way.

“I won’t tell anyone you’re here, Mr. Cobb.”

“Phew” the man sighs, unzips his jacket, “thanks man. Thought I’d be bundled up enough that no one would spot me while I was out, but I didn’t get my hat on in time coming out of the Chinese place down the block.”

“I love that spot, they have the best beer-braised duck.”

“Yeah, I always stop by when I’m in town, they’re food is worth getting photographed for.”

It’s odd, everything he’s read suggests chef Cobb is friendly and warm when approached by fans in public.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate that people like my shows but, I, uh, sometimes I just want to eat or walk down the street without someone taking pictures of me.”

“Do you want to head into the back sections? There’s no windows in that half of the store.”

“Sweet, thanks. Uh, would it be cool if I autographed any books of mine you have? I like doing that, means I can send a little business towards smaller stores.”

“Of course. Here, the cookbooks are on this wall.” He slips into his office to grab a sharpie while Barclay pulls a stack of books and sits down on the floor. As the scratching of the pen fills the air, Joseph takes a trip to the paranormal and occult section, coming back with three copies of The Case for Bigfoot.”

“Y’know, not everyone stocks these.” Barclay smiles as he adds the paperbacks to the pile.

“Which is terrible business; you’re just as famous in the cryptozoology community as you are in the foodie one. This is the best book on bigfoot ever written, and I should know; I run a, um, a blog where I review books on paranormal topics.”

“You a true believer?” The cook blows on his signature in the copy of Desserts for All Seasons

“More an optimistic skeptic; your book is perfect because you make your case using actual evidence instead of reporting the same ten, poorly verified stories that everyone includes in their books. And I appreciated that you included recipes from the places you visited; that was a very nice touch.”

“Funny story about that” Barclay freezes as the front door opens. There’s definitely more than one person coming in, and when Joseph pokes his head around the corner he sees fifteen people, all with cameras or phones.

“Shit. You might want to hide in my office for a few minutes.”

By the time the crowd reaches him, Joseph is almost done re-shelving the signed books.

“Good afternoon, let me know if you need help finding anything.”

“Uh, yeah, we do, someone saw Barclay Cobb in your store-”

“Strange, we’ve only had one customer” he winces as someone’s shoulder knocks a hardcover off its display, “I didn’t get a good look at them before they went downstairs.” He tips his head at the staircase to the YA and Graphic Novel sections and is promptly knocked into the shelf as the throng hurries away.

“Come on, I can get you out through the back door” Joseph whispers to the Red Dust on his Soul poster on his office door. Barclay is remarkably quiet for a man his size as they sneak across the floor and let frigid, January air rush into the store.

“Thanks man” Barclay whispers, “I owe you one.” He sets a big hand on Joseph’s shoulder, squeezes it with a wink, then pulls on his hat and disappears into a crowd coming off at the bus stop.

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

Joseph always comes in through the back, flipping on lights as he goes, so the sea of bodies pressed to the front windows like a zombie horde surprises him. He knows Barclay tweeted about the signed copies, but this seems like excessive excitement even for a celebrity chef.

“Morning, Joseph--whoa, what the heck?” Aubrey clocks in without taking her eyes off the crowd, “why is everyone here this early.”

“Fan culture. I think.” The registers finish waking up, “I’ll pay holiday rates if you open that door for me.”

Aubrey gives a thumbs up, unlocks the double doors, and is swallowed up so quickly he worries she might have been trampled until she emerges near the greeting cards. Some people swarm the cookbooks, but an alarming number cluster around the counter, all shouting for his attention.

“How long have you been seeing Chef Cobb?”

“What?, I, I’m not-”

“Does he often visit your store?”

“No! He just came by yesterday!” There’s a horrible clatter of all the books on display near the door taking each other out like dominoes.

“Do you fuck in the backroom all the time?”

“Oh come on” He pushes past the man who asked that, deals with shouting all the way to his office and slams the door. A quick Google search for “Barclay Cobb” brings up a blurry photo of them in the alley, Barclays hand on his shoulder, and multiple headlines speculating on why the reclusive chef and author has chosen a nobody bookstore employee (he’s the owner, damn it) as his lover.

Okay, there’s a logical, easy fix to this.

He opens the door enough to speak, whistles so everyone will be quiet and listen to him, “I’m sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. Mr. Cobb isn’t in any kind of relationship with me; he just came into the store yesterday for some peace and quiet. So, if you’re looking for information about him, this is not the place for it. If you’re looking for the signed books, the cookbooks are there, and the paranormal section is just around that corner.” He gives his best customer service smile as the paparazzi exchange perplexed glances.

“...Is it true he bought you this store?”

“Wh--no! We rent this space.”

“From him?”

“Arggh!” He closes the door, slumps against it and cards his fingers through his hair. As he contemplates closing for the day, he spots a little, copper card on his desk. It’s Barclay’s, which is what he expected, but when he flips it over there’s a message scribbled in pen.

Main St Hotel, room 503, here until Monday.

He pulls out his phone, tells Aubrey she’s allowed to get the crowd out by any means necessary except for fire, and elbows his way out into the winter air.

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

Barclay almost purrs when he peers through the peephole in the hotel door; Joseph, as his nametag read, is standing on the carpet, looking twice as handsome as he did yesterday. His cheeks are even a little pink, and Barclay has some thoughts on how to make that blush deepen.

“Hey, glad you found-”

Joseph holds up his phone, screen in Barclays face, “please fix this.”

“Oh fuck.” He ushers him in, “I’m so sorry, I thought they’d stopped doing this shit.”

“No, and they’re fucking up my inventory as a result.”

“On it, lemme text my assistant, she’s good at drafting these kind of messages.”

“Thank the lord. Right, thank you for that, I’ll go now.”

“Wait” Barclay reminds his instincts that blocking the door is rude, “do you wanna stay a few minutes? You look kinda stressed.”

“Because my store is being overrun!” Joseph snaps, then takes a deep breath and straightens his sleeves, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t called for, this morning has just been a mess. And it, um, it’s a little bittersweet to have people thinking I could land a hot chef when I can’t get past a first date with most people. Um, sorry. Too much information. That’s a bad habit of mine.”

Barclay tucks his hands into his pants pockets, “About that. Y’know how I left my card?”

Blue eyes blink, then brighten, “I thought that might be the reason but I dismissed it as wishful thinking.”

“Nope. A guy who's hot, nerdy, and competent enough to sneak me away from the paparazzi? Sign me the fuck up.”

“I’m not opposed to a, um, tryst, but I really, really need to get back to the store, I can’t abandon Aubrey to deal with this mess on her own, that’s not fair, and now we’ll have to reorder things too....” He laughs, a tense sound, “good lord, I get a chance to fuck a celebrity crush and I’m turning it down for work.”

“Hey” Barclay sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “it’s okay. You’re not the first guy to be married to his job. But, uh, out of curiosity, you got any vacation days to spare?”

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

“This is all yours?” Joseph takes in the sprawling farm as Barclay unlocks the front door of a charmingly rustic house.

“Yep, all the way to the creek and all the way to the road. Might surprise you, but I like my privacy.”

“I’d never have guessed.” He replies with faux shock.

“Smartass.” Barclay kisses his cheek, holds the door open with his shoulder so Joseph can pull his bags inside. He packed as light and efficiently as he could for two weeks away (he’d initially planned on one until Aubrey and Moira ganged up on him and told him he hadn’t taken a real vacation in years so he was taking one now, damn it) but his suitcase is still heavy as he rolls it to the stairs.

“I got that.” Barclay shoulders his own travel bag and hoists Joseph’s in the other hand, carrying them to the second floor like they’re nothing more than pillows.

The week the chef was in Madison, Joseph went to his hotel almost every night. Fell asleep in his bed more than once, when discussions of fusion cuisine or the Fresno Nightcrawler turned into frantic, heated kisses under the covers. It’s only when the cook drops all luggage into the master bedroom that the truth of why he’s on this trip sets in.

“You really invited me all the way here because you think I’m hot.”

“Yeah but no.” Barclay drapes his arms over his shoulders, lips still a little chilly as he kisses them, “brought you here because you’re smart” another kiss, this one on his jaw, “and funny” another, on his nose, “and you’re the biggest bigfoot fan I know.”

“You wrote a book on it!”

“Point stands. And yeah” he pushes Joseph back so he lands on the bed, crawling atop him as he growls, “I invited you here because you’re so hot I wanna pour sugar on you and see if it melts. Now get your pants off; I’ve been thinking about sucking your dick since we left the city.”

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

“How did the whole bigfoot thing start?” Joseph sips his Irish Coffee as Barclay puts his feet into his lap.

“Guess the same way any famous person ends up with two gigs; I was doing the thing I love, then was dicking around on cryptid hunter forums and found out I was also hella good at researching bigfoot. By the time I got really into it, I had enough cash that I could write my book without worrying about going broke. Helps that I’d handed off The Arch and The Lodge and was just the exec chef on them, since then I could travel if I needed to.”

Joseph nods, moves one hand down to rub Barclays foot; in spite of no longer working the kitchens of his five restaurants or having to test recipes for the books right now, he spent most of today on his feet making elaborate meals for two. Joseph teases him that he’s trying to stuff him to the point he can’t leave. Barclay always chuckles and says he doesn’t know how right he is. The last two days, Joseph then wraps his arms around his boyfriend and tells him he’d stay forever if he could.

He’s never thought of himself as romantic; he’s pragmatic, knows that relationships are things built out of time, trial, and error. But god help him, he’s fallen for Barclay like they’re rom-com leads with only ninety minutes to reach their happy ending.

They’re out near the creek--really more of a small river--the next morning, talking about books and speculating on the existence of life on other planets, when a storm sweeps through the trees. As trunks groan and roots pull loose from the snow, Barclay calls, “we better head back.”

He gives a thumbs up. Then the ice under him cracks.

He doesn’t correct course quickly enough, the rest dropping from under him and dunking him in freezing water. It’s deep, too deep to stand, but he’s a decent swimmer and kicks towards the surface. When the shadow covers the opening with a boom, panic threatens to push the rest of his precious breath away.

The tree that fell across the ice is heavy, and no matter how he pushes it won’t give. He bangs on the ice on either side, trying to get it to crack, but his lungs scream and his limbs alert him that the cold will soon shut them down.

He closes his eyes, trying to think, not ready to give up, not with Barclay so close. There’s a groan of wood and frozen water. His mouth opens without permission, desperate for air, and chokes him on frost instead.

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

“...be dead, please don’t be dead, please please please don’t be fucking dead.”

“Nnff.” That’s not what he meant to say, but it seems to calm the voice above him.

“Thank fuck. I’m so sorry, I got to you as fast as I could, do, do you need anything?” Barclay sounds exhausted.

“Cold.” He mutters.

“I’m trying to warm you up gradually, that’s what the first aid book said but, uh, here.” Warm, fuzzy arms draw him into a hug.

Wait.

The first thing he sees when his eyes flutter open are arms covered in reddish-brown fur. When Barclay rubs their cheeks together, it tickles more than his beard usually does.

“Barclay? What the hell is going on?”

“Uh. So.” He’s rolled with ease to face a creature he’s never seen and eyes that he’d know anywhere, “I’m bigfoot. Or, uh, a bigfoot. Maybe that’s kinda obvious now.”

His brain crackles to life, “What better way to stay undiscovered than get famous by giving people the wrong information about you.”

“Some of it’s true. Just not anything people could use to actually find me.”

“Smart, big guy” Joseph pets his face.

“You’re taking this pretty well.”

“I think my system is too shocked to experience more shock.” He shudders, “relatedly, how’d I get out of the river?”

“I lifted the tree off and pulled you free. Took my disguise off to do that and, uh, the fucking thing fell into the water when I got you. So I’m gonna be stuck like this until a friend of mine can get me a new one.”

“No complaints here. You look incredible.” He runs his hands up and down Barclay’s side and chest, warmth seeping into his fingers as he does, “But I’m a little surprised you were willing to risk someone seeing you or me blabbing to someone and trashing your whole life in the process.”

A low rumble as Barclay kisses his forehead, “It’s worth it. I, this is gonna sound so fucking cheesy, but I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time, and there was no way I was gonna lose you.”

“Oh.” Affection and surprise well up in his throat, pressing down his words so all he can do is nestle closer to the cryptid and let himself be loved.

His mind rebounds quickly from his misadventure. His body would like him to remember it for a while so he doesn’t put it in such jeopardy again any time soon. Instead of helping Barclay with cooking and chores, he lays under the covers while the storm rattles the roof and the cook clangs pots on the lower floor.

Barclay, attentive to a fault, is downright doting now that he’s stuck in bed. He’s never without a hot drink or something to read, and the cryptid is happy to answer the majority of his questions about the finer points of being bigfoot. When it’s bedtime, his boyfriend pulls him atop his massive frame and cuddles him, whispering over and over that he’s glad he’s okay, until they fall asleep.

Today followed much the same pattern, though when dinner time rolls around he gets a fantastic surprise.

“Chocolate fondue?” He peers hopefully at the bed tray in Barclays hands.

“Only the best for you, babe.” The cook sets the burnished wood down on the bedside table, “we lucked out, the berries I bought last week are ripe.”

Joseph reaches for the fork, but Barclay beats him to it.

“You should save your energy. Since you’re, uh, still recovering.”

He shrugs, sets his hands in his lap and opens his mouth for a chocolate dipped raspberry. It doesn’t take long to spy Barclay’s ulterior motive. The cook has a whole wardrobe designed to fit his cryptid form, but it’s having trouble concealing certain things.

“You’re getting off on this.”

“I, uh, I, maybe a little” Barclay blushes under his fur.

Joseph raises an eyebrow, tilts his head at the bulge in Barclay’s pants, “You call that ‘little’?”

A rumbly whine, the fork paused halfway to Joseph’s mouth, “I can’t help it. I’ve got a thing for taking care of partners, especially ones who are all competent and put-together the rest of the time, and you look so good when you eat and, ohfuck.”

Joseph inhales sharply as chocolate hits his exposed upper chest. It’s not hot enough to burn, and he moans as the sensation seeps across his skin. Barclays eyes, wide and ravenous, keep flicking between the splatter and his face.

“Looks like you made a mess, big guy.” Joseph begins undoing the remaining buttons on his pajamas, “you should clean it up.”

“Fuck yeah.” Barclay lunges, mouth first, lapping and sucking at the marked skin as Joseph laughs. Their shirts hit the floor together as he digs his nails into auburn fur. Barclay grunts at the pressure, sits up with a grin, and drips a line of chocolate down the right side of Joseph’s ribs.

“Oops. Better fix that too.”

“Cleanliness is importantAH, ahhnn.” He squirms a bit as Barclay nuzzles his stomach before dragging his tongue up his skin. There’ve been times he mourned the fact T didn’t make him as hairy as some other guys, but right now he’s grateful for the clear canvas Barclay can mark however he pleases.

“A mess can be more fun.” The cook licks his lips, sucks a hickey above his belly button, “and by the time I’m done with you, babe, won’t be a single part of you that isn’t one.”

“Then get to it.” He shoves his pants down, lets Barclay pull them the rest of the way off and fold them. He lays back, resting his arms behind his head, and moans as the cook drizzles chocolate on each hip. Joseph feels like a gourmet dessert and, from the growls between his thighs, Barclay intends to treat him like one.

His boyfriend is always enthusiastic when sucking him off, but tonight he throws finesse out the window in favor of burying his face at the crease of each thigh in turn, licking his hips clean while clawing at his calves and sides. He lifts his head, wipes his mouth with a satisfied grin that shows the points of his teeth, and dives down again.

Joseph yelps with pleasure, the hint of fangs hitting all his buttons, lighting him up like downtown on a dark night. It’s intense, the scratch of fur on skin just different enough from the usual beard to remind him of who’s down there, and his legs try to kick closed. Barclay growls again, holding them open with ease.

“Not until I’m done with you, babe.”

He surrenders to flood of feelings from both outside and within him, Barclay’s sheer delight at his body rendering all his doubts and worries toothless and small, quieting them until all he can think about is incredible creature holding and all he can say is some variation on-

“Barclay, please, right there, lordalmighty that’s good, that’s so good big guy, please.” He squeezes his eyes shut, craving the impending orgasm more than he has words for. Barclay sucks determinedly and huffs, pleased, as Joseph's thighs tense in his hold and his climax chases away the remnants of yesterday's aches.

As his brain insists that really, body, opening our eyes isn’t that hard, there’s a metallic zip and strong legs bracketing his thighs.

“Here I thought you couldn’t look any better.” He murmurs as Barclay gleefully strokes his cock, “as soon as my brain works again, I’m coming up with so many ways to use that gorgeous thing.”

“Can’t, fuck, can't wait to hear ‘em, but I only got one for tonight; I’m gonna use it to cum alllll over that fucking perfect body, fuck, Joseph, you look so good when you’re ruined, fuck.” An impressive amount of cum spatters up his stomach, chest, and neck as Barclay howlgrowlpurrs and then sets his hands carefully on the bed.

Joseph’s whole body is sticky with chocolate, sweat, and cum, and Barclay definitely has at least two of those things mussed into his fur.

“You’re right, big guy, a mess can be fucking amazing.”

That being said, being sticky gets old quick, and soon they’re in the tub, Joseph whistling as he shampoos Barclay’s chest. The cryptid hasn’t stopped purring, and every time he looks Joseph’s way the sound deepens.

“When are you next in the city?”

The cook yawns, “Was gonna check on how the new chef de cuisine is getting on at Kepler in about two week.”

“Would you like to stay with me? It’s not fancy, but it’s close to the Ismuth, so you can get to Kepler on foot without trouble, and there are fewer crowds there this time of year. I suspect paparazzi are also less likely to track you down at some random house than at a hotel. That might make up for my lack of, um, high class amenities.”

“Good point. But I gotta be honest babe; as long as you’re there, that’s all I need to be happy.”

[rocketink]

LOST AND FOUND

In which you lose your stuff all the time but your first-floor neighbour somehow always has it for you. Or, in a soulmate world, your soulmate finds everything you loses and reverse.

pairing: minghao x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, crack + neighbor & soulmate! Au 

wc: 2.2k+

warnings: none I think (this type of soulamte thingy is kinda crazy tho). Btw this is my first au so I’m sorry fpr any mistakes!! + English is not my first language so apologies :)

notes: I migh turn this into a series since I’ve thought about some details here and there as I wrote this au?? What do you think?? 

The situation inside your apartment has turned unbearable, and you know should have moved with Joshua when you had the chance. He wasn't the closest of your friends, but you're sure it would have been more comfortable with him rather than third-wheeling your roommates.

Now, you don't hate Mingyu and your best friend, you just think they are disgustingly cute. You feel very happy since you've seen them pining after each other for a while now (all the furtive glances they sent to each other when they thought nobody was looking was like being inside a rom-com movie and it was hilarious at first. It eventually became too much to handle). You've never seen two more oblivious people inside a room, it was exasperating. Things began to turn serious when they discovered they were each other's soulmates and they've been seriously dating ever since.

It's great, really, but why do you have to see each of their displays of affection? Or, should we say, why doesn't the time to find your soulmate finally get to you?

Because you know, deep down inside you, that the problem is not that they have a soulmate. The problem is that you don't find it.

"Good morning, love." Mingyu greets your friend with his deep morning voice, and gives them a kiss on their temple. "Good morning, Y/n." He gives you a tiny hug and you growl.

"It's too early for being cute don't you think?" You ask joking-not-so-joking.

"Feeling grumpy at eight in the morning? Woah, breaking your own record." You laugh at what your friend says and they laugh too. You don't mind being like this, just why does it have to get so awkward sometimes?

"Guys another disgrace has happened." You announce solemnly. "I have lost my jacket"

"Again?" Mingyu judges.

"But didn't you wash it yesterday? It must be hanged with the rest of the clothes."

"I checked when I woke up because it's cold and it wasn't there."

"It was pretty windy last night, maybe it fell?" Your friend suggests and they grin. "Maybe Minghao will bring it back to you later?"

Ah, here we have the other reason why you want to move to a lost town somewhere in Australia: Xu Minghao, your first-floor neighbor, the one that has an apartment to envy because of his small, well-decorated courtyard. You don't envy that, though, because your clothesline is right on top of his courtyard, and sometimes he has to bring you all the clothing items that fall into his yard. You don't know how all that ends up there, you've tried everything: from securing your clothes with more pins to tying it to the clothesline. But none of that ever works, and he always goes all up to the third floor -where you live- to give it back to you with a smile and a 'see you soon'. How does he know it's your clothes? You made sure to tell him the first time this happened.

Just like your friend predicted, that afternoon Xu Minghao knocked at your door.

"Hello." He greets with a friendly smile and your heart melts.

He's too adorable to handle.

"Hi, Minghao. Don't bother I think I know why you're here." You joke at your own clumsiness and he laughs with you too.

"You must have been cold without it." He seems worried and you shake your head.

"Don't worry, two layers of blankets made up for it."

He puts his hands into his pockets and smiles shyly and you feel your heart bursting off. When he leaves, you notice your jacket smells like him.

Ah, how you wished Minghao was your soulmate.

Things get more complicated when the finals approach. You can barely stand even after drinking your daily coffee and you spend day after day coming and going from home to the library. You are so focused and stressed that you barely pay attention to anything else, and you've lost from pens to your entire case. All of them safely brought back home by Minghao. You do not know how or when you threw your case through the window for it to end up at Minghao's yard, but he always brings some hot chocolate and a small talk with him, so you do not complain.

After all, you don't even remember how you wake up every morning by the end of the day. You end up thinking you need to control yourself a little more during finals.

One day it gets out of hand. You've probably had the worst of the days. You woke up late because you didn't hear the alarm clock, your roommates being all lovey-dovey already got you on your nerves, your exam was harder than you expected and you had a bad feeling about your answers. Then, when you finally got home, late and tired, your keys were nowhere to be found. You could feel your eyes getting watery and you knocked at the door. Nobody answers, your friend and Mingyu are celebrating their anniversary and you don't want to bother them even if all you want is a hot shower and watching a romantic without friends to cuddle. You immediately think of Minghao, would it be too much if you asked him to spend some time with you? You answer to yourself that yes, it would be too much, there's no need to bother anyone else. So what do you do now?

"Y/n?" Somebody asks behind you.

"Minghao?" And there you have it, just the one you were thinking of.

"Hi, uhm, are you okay?" You want to cry to that question, but you manage to hold back your tears.

"I'm fine I just- I must have lost my keys because I can't find them and there's no one home and I just want to sleep." You explain briefly.

"Are these your keys?" He holds something in his left hand that looks like your keyring -a framed pink paper with your name on it and a little olaf your sister once bought you-

"How did you find it?"

"I didn't, it appeared in my yard". He is as confused as you are.

"But... I remember I put it inside the pocket of my bag." You explain. "When I arrived it was opened so I just supposed they fell out. And there's no way they fell into your yard because they are always inside my bag, I never threw them... Why would anyone throw a keyring through my window? I-" You try to explain without taking a breath so that Minghao doesn't think you're a weirdo, but now you can't fight back your tears and Minghao looks worried.

"It's okay Y/n, don't worry, I understand. Well, I don't, but I know you didn't do it. Hold on let's get inside I'll make you some hot chocolate and we can watch a movie, okay?"

You nod without thinking, just wanting to be lulled into some peace. He makes you some hot choco as promised and makes some small talk while choosing a movie to watch.

"So where are your roommates?" He asks.

"Celebrating their anniversary."

"Wait, are they dating?"

"Didn't you know?"

"No? I'm so shocked what the hell." You laugh at his astonished face. "But are they...?"

"Soulmates? Yes, they are."

"Woah, lucky."

"I know right." You don't want this topic to surface but you can't help but ask. "Have you met your soulmate?"

"I haven't." After a few seconds, he adds, "have you?"

"No, not a single clue of who they are. I don't have a timer or a tattoo, or see them in my dreams... I'm getting tired of waiting. Overall watching the two lovebirds every day of my life."

"It is the same thing for me. I'd love to meet them or just to know how they are. I know I'm young and all that but I'm just very curious and almost all my friends have met them while I still don’t know how to find them. I feel left out."

You nod, relating to that feeling.

"By the way, if it gets tiring, why don't you just move out?"

"I don't know where to move to be honest. I don't know if I want to go through the 'look for a new apartment' process again, it's too tiring. Besides, I still have fun with them, they're not to blame for my loneliness."

Minghao laughs and looks away.

"Just so you know, I'm moving out next month. I found another apartment for a better price and I'm going to leave the one I have now. If it gets too unbearable, you can just take my place." And you are too focused on yourself to notice the sad look on his face.

Because Minghao and your little encounters made your whole living in a student's apartment life better, and you don't want him to go away. But you are just a neighbor in Minghao's life, so who are you to tell him that?

Minghao moves the following month just as promised, and you can't remove the moping face you wear.

"Why are you so sad Y/n? I've seen the new neighbor, he is as hot as Minghao." Your friend winks and you roll your eyes.

"I don't care. If he doesn't pick up my stuff then I don't want him."

"I've heard he is all the time arguing with their other roommate. Maybe they leave sooner than expected and Minghao comes back!"

"Don't be mean, Gyu!" You nag and he shrugs.

Somebody's knocking at the door distracts you from your conversation and both of your friends turn to look at you.

"Why do I always have to get the door? There's no Minghao now, I don't want it."

"Maybe is your new blue prince"

"Shut up, Mingyu."

But when you open the door to a frowning Minghao, your heart backflips.

"What are you doing here Hao? Is everything okay?"

"I am a little concerned." He shows you a small necklace you recognize immediately. "What was this doing in my house?"

"I lost it last week at university! I didn't know where it went." You try to answer.

"To my room?"

"Look, I also don't know what was my necklace doing in your house in which I've never stepped a foot in because is like five kilometers away ... Oh my god Hao did you walk here?"

"I took the bus." He looks down and then right at you. "The last time I saw you you were wearing it. I've been thinking for a week how did this get there since I haven't seen you in a month, I never took it and I know for sure you are not a stalker who would leave their necklace inside my room when nobody’s looking."

"Have you reached any conclusion?"

"Absolutely none. Then I talked to Jun and he said some of the romantic trash he usually thinks of, but this made me think."

"What did he say?" You don't know what direction this conversation is taking.

"He's a soulmate expert you know? He told me that maybe it’s because destiny wants us to meet again and I thought that couldn't be because oh god, what have I done to deserve you? Then I decided to make a little experiment and I'm really nervous because if this doesn't work out I might have lost the most important thing to me. Do you mind checking your room?"

You feel everything inside you revolving because of every single one of his words, but still, you do as he requests. You check your room, ignoring the question marks over your roommate's heads, and find nothing different. Except for a new notebook on top of your nightstand you hadn't noticed. It's a sketchbook, and all of the drawings on the inside are signed with Minghao's name.

"Is this yours?" He sighs in relief when he recognizes the sketchbook.

"This is a part of my life, you know?"

"Then how did you lose this?"

"I told June to leave it somewhere I didn't know so that I couldn't even look for it. I wasn't sure if it was going to work."

"I can't believe the universe does works like this."

"Me neither, but I'm glad it did."

"So, you said this friend of yours is an expert in soulmates?" You don't want to ask it directly, but you want to know if he's implying that you two are soulmates.

"Yes, I used the s word." You both laugh.

"Does this mean that you and I... You know."

"Jun told me this type of soulmate is rare, but it has happened under easier circumstances. All I know is that I keep finding you every time and I don't know if I ever want to stop finding you."

"OH COME ON JUST KISS ALREADY." You hear Mingyu shouting from the kitchen. "Babe, now I know how Y/n felt with us."

You want to laugh at Mingyu and tell him 'Ha, suffer you loser', but Minghao has other plans.

When he kisses you everything just seems simple and suddenly everything is fine, and you don't want to stop doing it. It's warm, it feels as if you had lost and found the most important thing in your life.

"Hold on then why did I never find anything yours?"

"Y/n, you break the kiss just to ask this?" You blush and he sighs. "I'm a very organized person, unlike others, so I barely lose things, happy now?"

"No. Does this mean that if I get lost in a crowd would you magically find me? You know, since I got lost."

"I don't know Y/n, and I don't want to find out. Now come here, I want to cuddle."

"Oh, yes. Finally."

[parmesancheeze]

TRANSCRIBING MY LITTLE JOURNAL BECAUSE THERE AREN'T ANY PAGES LEFT (2018-2022)

ANG LANGIT AY BUGHAW ANG MGA IBON AY HUMIHIYAW AT ANG ARAW AY DILAW DITO SA MUNDONG IBABAW

SA BAWAT TUGMA SANA’Y MADAMA BUHOS NG DAMDAMIN SANA’Y DINGIN

If I close my eyes long enough I could still see it. The vision of you and me, growing old together. Having kids and being a family, lying on the front porch sipping coffee and reading a book. And if I focus a little bit longer I could conjure you out of pure thoughts and memories of you. The way your lips curve when you smile and the sweet scent of your skin. The warmth of your touch and the sound of your breathing - and it's like you never left.

I woke up to the sound of my phone’s alarm. While blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I checked my phone for messages. As usual, there is none. Who am I kidding? I have no friends and nobody knows who I am.

I received a good news today! Though it’s not yet confirmed, there is a chance that I might have a full-time job soon. So, don’t quit. Life is unpredictable, sometimes it’s easy and sometimes it’s not. So, don’t quit because it will get easier again.

Every day we wake up and we have to get up every time. Our every waking moment means the day had begun and you have to start working. That is the life written for the poor – long before they've actually lived.

As babies we are expected to be cute and cuddly. As we grow older, the expectations thrust upon also grows and as children we tend to do our best to live up to those expectations. “You’re tall and strong, you should be an athlete.” or “Your parents were top of their classes, you should also get high grades.” Growing up we are continuously bombarded with the expectations of other people upon us that we lose sight of our true selves, we lose sight of doing the things that actually makes us happy.

When I was little, I wanted to be a priest. Because my Mom told me that I should be given back to the Lord because she asked the Lord for me – a baby boy. For a long time, I believed that that was what I wanted, it was expected of me. Last school year, I enrolled again in college because a friend of mine told me that he wanted me to be there with him that school year, I did because it was expected to be to go back to college, not just by my friends but also by my family.

At around 3 in the morning, I felt something and for a moment it was amazing. But like most good feeling, it was fleeting. I couldn’t catch it back.

Though miniscule. I feel like I am living again.

I know that the flame inside me is still burning and that my soul doesn’t need saving. I stare blankly at my walls as I was listening to the sound the clock ticking – knowing that it was true but I just couldn’t make myself believe.

IT’S FOUR IN THE MORNING AND I FEEL I’M LIVING WHEN WORLD IS SLEEPING AND I AM ONE WITH MY FEELINGS THE MOMENT WAS FLEETING BUT I FELT THE FLAME IN ME BURNING

I’m about to be interviewed for a job. I’m neither nervous nor calm. I had experience working but the change of industry and scenery might be too much for me. Writing this to remind me to be confident and that I am great.

“It’s those key moments that burn brightly in our minds.” – The Last Time We Say Goodbye

“Brave isn’t something you are. It’s something you do.” – The Last Time We Say Goodbye

Ayos lang matagalan. Ang mahalaga, makarating.

And even without proof, I trust you blindly.

Kahapon, Bukas, at Ngayon.

I don’t think people fall out of love, rather people stop falling in love.

I think I’m falling in love with you, but not exactly. The proper way of saying this is: I think I’m falling in love with the idea of you – and it is bad. It’s bad because I’m creating a version of you that exists only in my head and if you couldn’t be the same person in reality. I’d be disappointed and I’ll lose interest.

Come take my hand and I’ll lead to you home. To the place where flowers bloom and angels sing.

In the never-ending pursuit of happiness. Can we be truly happy?

The wealthier you are, the more privilege you’ll have. 

I THOUGHT TO MYSELF, “SHE’S THE ONE” AND THE LONELINESS WILL PROBABLY BE GONE

THE SUN HID BEHIND THE CLOUDS TODAY AND THE RAIN REMINDS ME OF DEATH

Yesterday will be long forgotten with time. But I will always remember how you lifted me up.

My definition of home is – waves crashing and sea breeze blowing to my face. Home is where your heart is.

Jonathan Morgenstern has the power to be good. There is no one who is inherently evil.

My sins are for me to bear.

Sometimes, loneliness is my only friend.

There are times when I am on my own – whether in the showers, or driving alone, or right before I sleep. I feel my chest hurting, I feel my heart aching – and it feels like I have run out of air. Like someone drowning, I will gasp and try to breathe but all I get is loneliness – and loneliness suffocates me even more.  So, I will try again, this time harder and deeper and I’ll feel a little better. But a time will come where I will forget to breathe and it will be blissfully over.

It’s hard to cure a sickness that isn’t seen. Without the physical manifestation of the sickness people will look at you with indifferent eyes and gaslight you into thinking you are a piece of trash for having mind that works differently than theirs. I AM NOT LOOKING FOR SYMPATHY

A world where we can be who we want to be and be with who we want to be.

But without need, there will be no desire.

WANDERING AROUND ALONE LONGING FOR SOMETHING GONE

What is philosophy? I do not know if my personal code about life can be considered philosophical. When I was young, I lived a very comfortable life with my family. We were well-off and there were more than enough money to spend on wants when our needs are fulfilled. It gave me a sense superiority to others. Being young and naïve, I didn’t really care about other people. I ordered people around and I was insensitive to their feelings most of the time. I was very proud of my status, I relish the fact that I had more power. When things went south with our finances, my arrogant self, tried to maintain the previous status without nothing to back it up. It was hard to be around me during that time. I was hurting and angry and in denial, without even noticing I lost my friends and my family because of my character. It changed me. I understood the way other people lived, I learned about compassion and kindness. It taught me that no matter where you are in life we are all equally deserving of good things in life. By good things, I don’t mean money or power or status. By good things, I meant love and all the little things that make us feel alive.

YOUR VOICE SOOTHES ALL MY PAIN LOVING YOU HAVE GIVEN ME MUCH TO GAIN AND ALL THESE WORDS ARE WRITTEN FOR YOU I HOPE THEY REMIND YOU OF ME

Why do we connect the rain with death and sadness? Rain cleanses and purify the soul. It gives life to the ground. Why does summer loves end along with the falling of leaves? Seasons change and so does people.

[iloveyou3thousand]

married peter and tony waking up to find bucky in the doorway because he had a nightmare and didn't want to be alone (not winterstarker platonic onlt w bucky pls)

soft boys soft boys soft boys

————————————————————————

Peter’s instincts are good.

They’re very good.

So when there is someone in the doorway in the middle of the night, a figure lurking, swathed in darkness, he feels it even though he is asleep.

He’s awake in a second, eyes blinking blearily in the dark of the room. In a flash, he notes the time on the alarm clock on Tony’s bedside table on the other side, directly in his line of vision. It’s three in the morning. Peter’s brain immediately provides him with the thought that it’s the perfect time for burglars to make their way into your house without getting caught – a fear left over from living in some of the worst parts of town for years of his life. But he knows, logically, that nobody could get through the security system in the compound without Tony being notified, so it put him at ease slightly before he rolled over to look at whose eyes were burning holes into his back.

The movement has Tony stirring gently beside him, but he doesn’t wake up. As Peter’s eyes adjust to the darkness to better see the silhouette in the doorway, he catches a glimpse of something shiny, a little bit of moonlight catching on metal, and he belatedly realizes who it might be.

“Bucky?” he croaks, and Tony beside him sighs softly in his sleep.

“Sorry,” comes a groggy voice from the doorway, clearly hesitant. The figure does a small step back, the metal of his arm glinting a little more in the faint light falling into the bedroom.

Peter pushes himself into a sitting position, and when the movement pulls away the blankets from Tony’s chest, the man lets out a small sound of protest before his eyes open and he looks around toward the source of the lack of warmth. When he sees Peter sitting up, he turns onto his side, about to ask Peter what is going on when he, too, sees the man in their room.

“No,” Peter shakes his head, and waves a hand in Bucky’s direction, “No, don’t be. What’s up? Is something wrong?”

Peter can see that Bucky hesitates, even if he can’t read his expression from where he’s lying in bed. He wants to get out and go take a closer look, but he has the feeling that Bucky won’t respond too well to that. He seems…skittish, almost. Or maybe he’s just tentative.

“No one’s awake. And I thought… I thought you two usually stay up pretty late. Figured there might be a chance you’re still up.”

Bucky’s voice wavers in a way that doesn’t sit well with Peter. And neither does it feel particularly good to Tony.

“Do you want us to come sit with you for a bit? I’m okay to do that. I don’t mind,” Peter offers. Bucky almost immediately shakes his head and protests.

“I really don’t want to impose. You were sleeping—I’ll let you get back to it. Good night, Peter. Tony.”

But before Bucky can give the both of them a tentative smile and turn to leave, Tony props his head up on his hand, elbow sinking into his pillow, and offers something neither Peter nor Bucky expected from him.

“Why don’t you join us? In bed, I mean. In case that wasn’t clear. There’s plenty of room, big guy. Even with all that bulk you’re bringing to the party.”

When Bucky visibly hesitates, Tony continues, and playfully pats the mattress.

“I know the aftermath of a nightmare when I see one, buddy. Now come on. Peter’s a great big spoon. And I snore. Keeps those mental monsters at a distance.”

Peter swears he can see the corners of Bucky’s mouth quirk up, if only for a second. And just like that, he’s won over, and he finally walks further into the room, the dim light of the moon revealing he looks frazzled.

Peter sits up to make room, and allows Bucky to climb into their large bed to settle between them. Tony’s face is neutral but kind. Bucky lies down, and as promised, Peter wraps his arms around him, and when they fall asleep, it’s to the increasingly less gentle snoring coming from Tony’s side of the bed. But all in all – it’s not a bad night.

Not a bad night at all.

[lstories]

Emma and Gaudi(um)

(Safe, Soft, Unwilling, Vore, accidental fearplay.)

Original idea by @mangotangovoredango. I just put my own spin on it and used my own oc's

"Owww." Emma woke up, her back was killing her. "Every God damn night." She muttered to herself still half asleep, she tried to grab one of the blankets to cover herself and fall back asleep as the morning sun crept in. She flailed her arms to no avail, looking down to the foot of her bed Emma realized she had kicked off all her blankets trying to get comfortable in her sleep... again. Every night was the same, waking up in weird positions and her muscles aching from working and resting. She didn't have to work, she didn't have to do anything. She was the CEO of a nationwide electronics/shopping chain and didn't have to work in store but, she wanted to help more than shoot ads and work as a telephone line between the board of directors. She still had to work as the CEO while also working in store and it was starting to catch up to her.

She didn't want to fall into the category of not having to work a day in her life so she worked retail in her own company. After laying in bed for almost an hour, waiting for the alarm to get her out of bed she was not expecting a knock at the door to be the thing to fully wake her up. "Why is anyone out here, and why right before work." She thought starting to sit up. Putting her slippers on. Emma lazily walked over to the front doors. She wasn't expecting anyone and she lived a few miles out of town so nobody should be here. "Hey! I told you this was her house." Emma could recognize the voice immediately without needing to see their face. A few of her work friends stopped by with a car parked out front. That would be great if she didn't have to take a shift in an hour. "Hi, work starts in an hour, what are you doing here?" Emma said trying to sound as awake as she could. "You signed up for the carpool, remember? It was a four person pool and you signed up as the third person in ours. Also why aren't you ready for work yet." Hope said, a bit confused and concerned.

Emma started to remember, she just thought it was another paper for her to sign and now the pictures started to make more since. She didn't want to let her friends down so maybe a week would be ok before she stopped to not hurt their feelings. "I... guess it just slipped my mind, I'll get dressed really quick." Emma said closing the door and walking back to her room. "MAKE IT QUICK, WE GOTTA BE THERE SOON!" Paige yelled threw the closed door. Emma started to get dressed as quickly as she could. Stoping only to grab a small tied bundle of physical cash she put into a side pocket in her purse. She was still so tired, she couldn't keep going to work with how she's been sleeping, mostly less than an hour or two a night. She also refused to drink coffee, it was too bitter and it only made her feel even worse after a while. She walked out the door, just barely remembering to lock it as Paige basically dragged her to the car. "WE GOTA GO NOW!" She yelled as Hope started to drive off before Emma could put her seatbelt on.

"What is your rush, we have over an hour and a half before work starts." Emma said finally getting her seatbelt on. "No, it starts in half an hour and we're 10 miles away AND we have to pick someone else up!" Paige said as she frantically looked threw map and clock apps. Emma couldn't help but peek over the seat and look at her phone, and then she realized something. "You remembered daylight savings, right?" Emma said tiredly, showing her phone to Paige. She looked at the time on her phone, then the time on Emma's phone, back and forth until editing her time. "My time was off." She quietly said. Hope started to laugh her ass off. "Looks like we'll be able to stop and get coffee too." Hope said as her laughter started to die down. "Oh... cool." Emma said, a little annoyed that she couldn't go back to sleep for this. She tried to drift off, her head resting into the soft cushion. She almost fell asleep until the car stopped and another person got in the car. The briefcase they were carrying hit Emma in the legs and she winced in pain. "What the, why's there a forth person. Who... Faith?" Emma exclaimed rubbing the side of her leg that was hit by the briefcase.

"Oh, sorry Emma. Were running late and looks bad when the manager shows up last." Emma slightly glanced at her, annoyed that she couldn't sleep. "Did you-" Emma tried to talk before she was interrupted by Paige. "Daylight savings was last week and we were late but Emma showed me that my clock was fast and now were heading to the coffee shop because were early, is your clock fast?" Paige said. She didn't seem to need to breath when she talked. "Oh, I guess it is. That's embarrassing. Where are we going for coffee?" Faith asked as she started to settle down. Emma couldn't believe it, this was the first day of the car pool she didn't remember signing up for. They were uncoordinated and didn't plan for time, and she wouldn't expect anything less from her friends. "Theres a coffee shop on the corner and the new guy there makes amazing drinks. Should we go there?" Hope said, turning the corner before anyone could answer. "Guess that's a yes." Emma said under her breath. They all talked and waited in line and Emma just tried not to fall over. "Hi, what can I get ya." Gaudi exclaimed. "Hey your the new barista that Hope has been talking about, didn't you just move here because the old coffee shop you worked for closed and you were transferred here because you were so good and did you know Amy she was a regular there." Paige said, a giddy smile on her face and no falter in her breath. "Like a walking plot machine." Emma said under her breath. Gaudi slightly laughed at it, but no one else heard it. No one was supposed to hear it, she knew she said it quietly enough so nobody could hear it, let alone someone on the other side of a glass pain while she was in the back of a crowd.

"Ya, I knew Amy. She always got a hot chocolate instead of something caffeinated." Gaudi said, his face going from concerned back to chipper in an instant. "Anyway, what can I get you all?" He said. Everyone ordered their cups and last was Emma to order. She had never ordered coffee before and she didn't want to start now. "I heard something about hot chocolate, could I just get that." Emma said, her eyes were too heavy to hold open for very long. "Its not my specialty but I can load it with sugar if that's going to help you threw the day." Gaudi said, slightly laughing. "If can get me threw the day I might come back tomorrow." Emma said, placing 100$ on the counter. "You can keep the change." She said walking back to her friends. Gaudi was shocked, he looked at it and back at her. He wanted to make her drink perfectly, would it be so selfish to use a bit of magic to help her and himself. She seemed nice and she was cute so why not have her around sometimes, and maybe she might give him another big tip someday. He started to work on all their drinks, once he got to Emma's drink he made it as normal before lightly scratching something into the side of the cup. Emma couldn't stop looking back at him, there was something about him that she couldn't shake. It wasn't bad but she didn't trust it.

"Here you go everyone, and we hope you come back soon." Gaudi said while handing everyone their cups. Emma took one sip and immediately her entire body seemed to wake up. It was super sweet and she took another sip. Once she finished she felt like she had slept an entire day. When Gaudi wasn't making anything or helping anyone Emma came up to talk to him.

"What did you put in my drink? I haven't felt this awake in months."

"Magic."

"You put magic in my drink?"

"Ya, a small awakening spell."

"Come on, what did you put in it. I need to put it in my own drinks at home."

"If you won't accept magic then it's my personal secret."

"So you want me to come here every day to get your drink."

"I'd be able to see you every day and that would be nice."

"You want to see me? Can't tell if that's flirty or stalkerish."

"Well you said you would come back if the drink woke you up."

Emma started to talk once again before getting cut off. "We gotta go now, work actually starts soon." Hope said walking out the door with the others. Emma walked away without saying anything, trying to catch up to her friends. "Guess I'll see you tomarow then." Gaudi said with his head on his hand and a big grin on his face. Emma spun around, her cheeks were slightly red. She was about to say something before turning around and following her friends out. They all got into the car, everyone was eerily quiet. Emma had one last glance at Gaudi threw the window, he was helping a customer and was able to slightly glance back at Emma for just a second before Hope drove away. "So... You like him, don't you?" Faith said looking over at Emma. "No. Quiet, I'll fire you if you dont be quiet." Emma said, her cheeks brightening. "You do, you think we didn't notice." "Of course you do, and I think he likes you." They kept talking about how cute it would be if they were together, Emma just buried her head in her hands until they got to work.

Timeskip: Next Day

"Ugh" Emma's back was killing her... again. This time she had to get up even earlier for the car pool. She got up, got dressed, and waited outside for her friends. Her mind started to wander, she thought about what would happen at work, what the board of directors would be arguing about and all that. Then she started to remember what happened yesterday, Gaudi, the drinks, her friends, and how they would probably bring her back there. Oh and speak of the devil's, her friends pulled up at that moment. She lazily got into the back seat and they drove off, Hope and Paige were talking about her. "You were more productive yesterday and you seemed happier." "Maybe its because of the new barista." They kept pestering her about it. Soon they picked up Faith and she joined in, joking about her and the new barista. Not even five minutes later and they were at the coffee shop. They all gave their orders, leaving Emma to talk to Gaudi at the other counter.

"So, your back."

"I said I would be."

"Well, what can I get you today."

"Another hot chocolate."

"Will do."

Gaudi got to work making her drink, once she sat down he put another scratch into the side of her cup, covering it with the sleeve. Emma took a sip, her body started to wake again. If it kept waking her back up she was going to come here every day without complaint, other than her friends annoying her. They all talked, Emma actually able to commit to the conversation now. Before they left Emma put 200$ in the tip jar, smiling at Gaudi on her way out.

Timeskip + Brief Summary: 4 months later

Emma continued to go nearly every day. She stopped going in the car pool after a while but still met up with her friends there. She gave a sizable tip to Gaudi almost every day, but his coworkers were starting to get annoyed. She experimented with the drink, staying up for almost two full weeks with no sleep and no repercussions. She kept wondering and pestering Gaudi what he put in her drink but she never got an answer more than "magic". They started to get to know each other more, eventually Gaudi got her number and they watched a movie at her house. He was amazed at how big her house was, he didn't believe it when he saw it. Eventually, Emma had to go on a business trip and couldn't take Gaudi with her.;

Gaudi was glad the day was over. His shift was getting long and he just wanted to get home, well, as much of a home as it was. Working at a coffee shop didn't pay much, Emma's tips did help but it wasn't enough to buy a house. He walked down his normal route to home, letting his mind wander on the day. He was sad that Emma had to leave today but she told him what it was for and it made enough sense. He only had to wait 2 more weeks before she would be back and they could watch another movie or something. He walked threw a back alleyway, and into the nearby forest. It didn't take more than 30 minutes to walk to the small clearing in the forest. He could feel his wings and tail getting restless, whenever he turned into a human all of his draconic features turned into a shadow of what they were. He could still feel his tail, wings, the horns on his back, etc. They weren't invisible, but they weren't not there. Either way they needed to move, every night he turned back to a dragon to sleep and he never needed to worry about someone seeing him because they believed that there was a monster in the forest. He was a little bit sad though, his friends were getting mad that he was getting huge tips from a single customer. They all split the tips so he didn't understand why they were mad. He didn't really think on it too long before falling asleep, surrounded by his collected "treasures".

Timeskip: next day (again)

Emma couldn't belive how boring this was. She thought this work trip would be a little more fun but it was just signing more papers and agreeing with the board of directors and signing off with the marketing department. She wanted to leave and go back home, even being with her family would be more entertaining than this. She did read that 2 people went missing on the same day in her home town and that would be fun to look into. If she did have to go threw this, she wasn't going to do it tired. She called Gaudi, his phone rang for a few seconds before he picked up.

"Hey Gaudi"

"Hi, how are you"

"I was wondering if you could tell me how to make the drink, everything is so boring and I'm to tired to deal with anything."

"You know I can't tell you how to make it, it's my secret."

"Come on, how long have we known each other."

"Long enough to say that I will tell you someday, but i can't today."

His voice sounded broken and sad, she couldn't see him but she knew that he wasn't happy. He was always happy about something so this was different.

"Are you ok, you dont sound too good."

"Oh... ya, dont worry. Everything's fine."

"Well, ok. See you when I get home."

Emma couldn't stop thinking about what might have happened to Gaudi. He was never sad, he always seemed to be happy about something so hearing him like that worried her. This was going to be a long trip if she couldn't stop thinking about it.

(Before the call) Gaudi walked back to his work, he was always the first there to open shop. He never had any trouble before and he always did everything right, if he got fired he wouldn't know where to go other than back home. Once he got inside he unlocked the doors and started to turn on the heaters for the drinks. Soon enough his colleagues started to come in. They were all staring at him and watching the windows, eventually the boss came in and called Gaudi into his office. He started to get worried, the boss only ever called someone into his office if something was wrong. He sat down on the other side of the boss' desk, his leg shaking. "Gaudi, your track record and work ethics are astounding, but we've been getting complaints about you." The manager said, his face still as uncaring as when Gaudi first saw him. "Who put in the complaints?" Gaudi chocked out, his throat felt swollen. He feared the worst from what his boss would say, he didn't know why but he knew that something bad was about to happen. "Your coworkers have all been complaining about you, that you haven't been working as hard and that you have been fraternizing with a customer. We are sorry to say this but were letting you go. By signing this form you will be given a full year's pay as compensation if you leave today." He said. Gaudi's mind raced at this, where he would go, what he would do, how he would explain why he had to leave to the only friend he had here. His mind went darker and he wanted to turn into his dragon self and bat the manager around, like a cat and a ball of yarn. It wouldn't be hard and the manager did resemble a ball.

"Yes, I'm sorry sir and have a good day." Gaudi said sadly, signing the papers while holding back tears. He walked out a few of his former colleagues were smiling at him as he walked outside while the others didn't seem to care. He walked home finally laying down defeated, on the verge of tears when his phone rang. It was Emma, he didn't want to talk to her despite her probably being the only thing able cheer him up right now. He answered after letting his voice return to normal and calming down a bit. He didn't want to worry her so he wouldn't say anything about his job right now. He reassured her that everything was fine but still couldn't explain how her drink worked yet, especially over the phone.

Timeskip + brief summary: 3 weeks

Emma got threw the excruciating 2 weeks of mindless board meeting and peptalks to a camera. Once that was over, she reunited with her family for a week. Her youngest brother had finally made a friend and she believed she saw a dragon at the edge of the forest her brother was running to. She tried to stop him and ran after him only to find his new friend with cutout of a dragon and a flashlight. He did seem a bit confused while he was holding them tho. Gaudi was miserable, still sad over losing his job. Sitting in the parks most days to feed off the joy of people walking in the park. He started to use it more as a drug than a food source at this point. He couldn't stop himself, until he got a call from Emma.;

Emma got up from her seat, tiredly stumbling off the plane. A limo pulled in next to the private jet and the 2 other people on the plane started carrying bags from the plane to the limo. Emma got in, trying to go back to sleep. Eventually the limo started moving, jolting Emma back to consciousness and the man driving it started to talk. "Where should I take you mam." Emma tiredly mumbled to him before showing him the address of the coffee shop Gaudi worked at. After a few minutes of driving they arrived, Emma got out of the limo and stumbled into the coffee shop looking for Gaudi. After a bit of waiting she walked over to one of the counters, the persons face was ecstatic that she was walking over.

"Hi, how can I help you."

"Is Gaudi here today?"

Their face slumped a little in disappoint when they heard that the rich CEO that gave out hundreds of dollars in tips was asking for a specific barista.

"Gaudi? He was fired almost 3 weeks ago."

"What! He didn't tell me he was fired."

"Ya, he was fired a few days after you stopped coming in. Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, I'm leaving."

Emma walked out, getting back into the limo and driving off. She called Gaudi to ask where he was. It took a while for him to pick up. He told her he was at the park and she immediately started to head down there. It didn't take long for Emma to find him but his usual smile was replaced by a cold frown. For the first time ever she saw Gaudi sad. It started to break her heart and she walked over, sitting next to him on the grass.

"So you were fired?"

"Yep."

"And you didn't tell me? I talked to one of your colleagues and he said it was the same day I called awsking for your drink recipe."

"Auctly, it was after I was fired. I just didn't want you to worry."

A tear started well in Emma's eyes, rushing in for a hug. She was able to force herself from crying, and she saw the smile return to Gaudi's face. He couldn't hold back his tears as he returned the hug, he felt a wave of emotions wash over him.

"I... I have to leave soon, I just wanted to stay and say goodbye to you."

"What! No, you can't leave. Why are you leaving?"

"I wanted to get away from my family, to live my own life and now that I'm out of a job I need to go back."

"Wait, because you dont have a job you have to go back home? What if I hire you."

"For what? I was fired from the only thing I'm good at."

"That's it. You could be a personal at home barista. It would pay your what your monthly salary of your last job daily, you would have a new place to stay, and you wouldn't have to go home. You could stay with me, here."

"You would do that?"

"I could print the documents in the limo and we could hire a moving team to get everything from your home."

"I don't own a house."

"Your appartment?"

"Nope."

"Where have you been living?"

"In the forest neer the lake."

"You've been... what did you have, is there anything you need to pick up?"

"Nothing important."

"Do you just want to go home?"

"I could make you your drink."

"Or we could finish watching the movie series we started."

"That would be nice."

After a few silent minutes they eventually got up from where they were sitting, Emma had forgotten how tired she was. The adrenaline she had from needing to help her friend was enough to forget she hadn't slept for the past few days. Gaudi sat down next to her, some tears still pooling in the bottom of his eyes. She typed away on the computer she had in the car until they got to her house, Gaudi silently watching the entire time. When they got home she printed out the papers and Gaudi signed them. Emma showed him his new room, it was massive, deffenetly big enough for him to sleep in his dragon form. She showed him where the supplies he would be using were until she could get a full side bar set up somewhere. Gaudi immediately began to work on a quick drink for Emma, the soothing taste and the quick energy fix was needed. Soon the day came to an end, he had unpacked the one bag he was going to use to bring his minor belongings home. Emma had put on a movie in the private theater in her house. Soon a scene came on, a monster showing it's true form to their friend with them immediately accepting the monster as they had known each other. Gaudi couldn't help but want to tell Emma. Gaudi stood up from his seat and motioned Emma to follow him. She followed Gaudi into the front yard of her house. She didn't know what was going on but she thought it was going to be fun.

"So the monster scene that was just on in there, this is kinda that. I'm... I know its weard but I'm... I've wanted to say this for a while that... I know what im trying to say here."

Gaudi kept getting caught up in his words, wanting to just show her. Emma was confused but more happy than anything, it was cute.

"Ok, I'm just going to show you, but I want you to know that I really like you and that I would never do anything to hurt you and I will only ever try to protect you."

She didn't know what he was talking about but it didn't really matter, but her calm face soon went from calm and happy to horrified in just a few seconds. Gaudi's skin started to shift and ridges soon formed, and those into scales. His limbs started to extend as his clothes started to undergo the same process as his skin. Wings and a tail started to form from nothing and grow with him. And in a matter of seconds, a full dragon stood in front of Emma, the dragon of Joy. His pink scales glistened in the moon light. Gaudi fell onto all fours, accidentally shaking the ground with his weight. Emma instinctively took a step back, her face only held one emotion, fear. She was to afraid to move, her muscles were frozen and her heart was racing. Gaudi, tried to keep his smile, but his face was burning with worrie and confusion. Emma took a step back towards the house and Gaudi's instincts started to kick in. He lowered his back closer to the ground as if to pounce on Emma while his face stayed the same. They stood in silence studying each other for a few seconds. Emma made the first move, running toward the front door to get to the safety of her home.

Gaudi jumped, missing the door and jumping past her, trying to reach out his claws to stop her from entering the house. He tried to tell her to wait but she ran threw the door without listening. Emma grabbed her phone and started to unlock it as Gaudi reached threw the open doors and grabbed her. She screamed as a claw came up and flicked the phone out of her hands. He gently pulled her out of the house, holding her in front of him so they could talk. She was punching at his claws, screaming and begging to be let go, trying everything to get away. Gaudi knew she was making to much noise, trying to calm her down. "Please, I'm not going to hurt you. You wanted to know how I make the drink and I told you, magic, It's ok, your safe just please be a little quieter for just a minute so I can explain. " Emma kept screaming for help, her voice barely able to travel to the nearest house. Gaudi kept trying to reassure her that everything was fine when something caught his eye. The neighbors light a ways down the road turned on as a silhouette walked near the blinds. Gaudi ducked between the house and the lake as Emma kept screaming. There was a scene in a older movie that had a monster eating something whole and making it completely silent. He had swallowed a few squirrels and birds when he was younger and put them in his storage stomach to transport them so his mother who could heal them but nothing as big as a human. With a sorry look on his face he shoved Emma into his open maw, making sure not to hit his teeth. He gulped again and again, the sound of Emma's pleas getting quieter and quieter. The taste of chocolate was so strong and he couldn't help but let out a sigh, his eyes widened as he did. He forced himself to gulp faster to stop it from happening again. Eventually her head reached his stomach, a thin shallow liquid pooling at the bottom, covering her already drool covered face. Gaudi closed his mouth, one final powerful gulp and he let gravity do the rest of the work. Gaudi held his throat high, he let out a sigh as his stomach started to expand, a tear started to well in his eyes as he thought about what he had done. His ate his only friend who helped him stay away from his family, and it felt amazing. He knew it was safe but he didn't know if Emma knew, he wanted to help her but he didn't know how. Emma slowly slid into his stomach, the mussels of his throat and stomach started to crush her and she had to pull herself into a ball. After a few seconds of contemplation she started kicking the walls of his stomach and stretching as far as she could when she was fully in. She begged him to let her out, offering money and whatever else, she was fully crying and hearing her cry started to make Gaudi cry.

She couldn't believe it, her friend, the only person she felt she could auctly confide in betrayed her. Gaudi didnt know what to do, his mind raced as his stomach started to hurt. Maby he could make it all seem like a dream, marking a sleep spell into the dirt and raising his hands to his stomach. The clear liquid pooling around her started to glow, more of the liquid started to seep from the muscles of Gaudi's stomach even faster. A blue dust was mixed into the new stomach fluid. She touched a bit, her mind started to swirl and the tips of her fingers went numb. She tried to stay away from the new stomach fluids but it was no use, she begged gaudy not to digest her. A small amount of the liquid driped onto her head, her legs and mid torso were already numb and she couldn't think anymore, she kept awake for as long as she could, but her mind was falling and she couldn't help but drift off.

Gaudi started to calm down, he could feel Emma slowly drifting off to sleep, she stopped fighting his stomach walls and her begging turned into quiet mumbling and sobs. He started to think of how he could spin this so she wouldn't remember what had happened. He could clean up and stay in his human form, putting her back in bed and pretend it was a dream when she wakes up. His mind started to drift and his eyelids were heavy, he laid down on the grass between the house and the lake. He started to think about how he could help her, and if she found out would she let him stay. The grass was so soft, Gaudi's mind started to swirl as he unknowingly let the sleeping spell take him.

Timeskip: Morning

Gaudi woke up to the sound of birds chirping, he looked over to his side and saw a house, the morning sun bounced off his scales and onto the white walls of the house. His gut felt amazing, he hadn't felt this full ever but he didn't remember eating anything. He rolled onto his back, the weight of whatever was in his stomach pressing onto his back was nice but he wanted to know what happened. He rubbed his distended gut for a while, it was so sensitive he almost passed out from the feeling and went back to sleep. As he massaged his stomach he thought he could feel it moving. He sat up, his claws lightly dug into the ground as he watched his stomach. He held his breath for a second watching his stomach slowly, ever so slightly expanding and contracting. If his stomach was moving while he was holding his breath then what did he eat. He laid back down and extended his neck around the corner of the house, there was a limo in the driveway and the doorway looked familiar. He realized he was at Emma's house, had it worked, did he tell her that he was a dragon, but if he was out here than were was..... EMMA!

He rolled over, immediately grabbing his stomach and pushing it forward and forcing himself to get her out. His stomach started to hurt as he pushed Emma up his throat, he couldn't stop thinking about what he had done. If she was awake she would deffenetly call the cops and he would have to leave, and if she wasn't awake how would he fix this. Gaudi was finally able to push her out, he positioned his tounge over his teeth and she slid off of it like a slow sticky slide and onto the grass. She was still somehow asleep but covered in stomach fluids. Gaudi picked her up and hastily blew off all the fluids that were on her, he couldn't feel anything in his hands or claws when he set her back down on the grass. He quickly shifted back to his human form and cafully picked her up and carried her inside. He put her on the bed in the middle of her bedroom with her head resting carefully on her pillows and lazily threw the covers over her before he quickly walked out of the room. He started to make her drink, it was still his job and he would only be fired if she remembered. He worked as fast as he could and looked for a cup, eventually finding a water bottle and peeling one of the stickers down to scratch in the rune. He put the sticker back on and as he poured the drink into the cup he heard slight movement from Emma's room.

Emma woke up slightly moving her arms, somehow the blancket was still on her bed when she woke up. She was getting ready for the surge of pain whenever she wakes up but it never came. She opened her eyes expecting them to stay heavy and her not wanting to get out of bed, but she was fully awake, she sat up in her bed and looked over to her clock seeing that it's an hour until she has to be at work. She got out of bed already dressed, but her clothes were a bit wet for some reason, oh well. She walked out of her room seeing Gaudi pouring a drink into a water bottle. He was already smiling and it only grew as he saw her walking out of her room.

"Goodmorning, it's nice to see you awake"

"Morning Gaudi"

"I tried something new for you. A white hot chocolate, courtesy of your new personal barista Gaudium"

"Thanks, it's nice that... wait, Gaudium"

"Right, I've never told you my full name before"

"I thought your name was just Gaudi"

"Ya, well... I put my full name down for my last job and no one wanted to call me that so they called me Gaudi and I've just been using that ever since"

"After all this time I'm just now learning your name? Why didn't you tell me before"

"I guess it never came up"

"Huh. Well work starts soon so I should get going"

"Alright, when you get back we could finish that movie we started last night"

"Right... it was getting good to, why did we stop watching"

"Oh umm... I don't remember"

"Well I better get going, thank you for this and I will see you when I get back"

Emma walked out of the house, Gaudium was still smiling at her as she walked out. Whenever he smiled it made her happier. She walked down the intricate brick pavement to her car but, something to the right caught her eye. It looked like a liquid splatter, it was thick and was left in small clumps around her tree and on the lawn. She walked across the lawn and knelt down to get a better look at one of the bigger clumps. There was tiny blue specks in it and it looked like they were glowing. She stuck two of her fingers in it and brought a small amount of it closer to her eyes to get a better look. It was sentless and it was silky smooth but also sticky. The blue specks in it started to move closer to her fingers and once they touched her fingers it started to numb them. Her mind started to swirl as she couldn't keep a thought strait. She flicked the substance off her fingers and wiped the rest off on the grass.

Once she got into her car she took a sip of her drink, her mind started to straighten and she kept thinking about the substance. She had seen it before while she was terrified, she thought hard on it and eventually it clicked. The pink scales, the flesh surounding her, falling into his stomach... Gaudi's stomach. She rubbed the pocket of her pants leg, it was still slightly damp. Once she felt it her face slowly shifted to pure terror and she started to shake, he eyes quickly started to well with tears. She looked at the window to the kitchen in her house, Gaudium was silently sweeping away at the floor. He seemed focused and scared but once he looked out to Emma his smile reappeared. Emma couldn't help but smile back, it was involuntary but she still felt happier when she looked at him. She pulled out of the driveway and started to think about everything that happened, shaking all the way. She was eaten whole, how was she still alive, she should have been digested, why did the slime make her numb, how could he do this? She had so many questions she couldn't think strait, all she could think about was how her friend betrayed her. She instinctively parked not realizing where she was, her mind still raced as she looked up and, all at once, it stopped.

She instinctively parked outside the coffee shop and when she realized it her mind slowed to a stop. She sat in her car for a while just trying to process what she was doing and slowly her mind became more active. She started thinking about how he worked there, her friends forcing her to meet him, the happy times they had together in and out of this shop. He was a friend, he always looked out for her and he thought he could trust her enough to tell her something probably nobody else knew about him. He may have ate her but she was fine, and for the single second she remembered not struggling it was almost peaceful. Like the biggest hug he could give her, and somewhere deep down she felt protected, almost enough to stay there. She started to remember what he said before he was a dragon and as he was a dragon and like he said, she was safe. He fully trusted her and she trusted him. She started to drive to her work, she thought about what she would say to him when she got home, maybe he'd be willing enough to show her again... and possibly eat her again.

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Forty-Eight // Jay Halstead x Reader

Description: Jay was the one to find you.

Warnings: Major Character Death. Major Whump.

Words: 2898

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader

A/N: I just hurt myself. I am sorry...

A little more than forty-eight hours ago, he was waking up next to you in bed. The sheets were tangled around you both as sleep slowly left, allowing the daylight to wake you. Your bare skin was against his, warm and soft. It was familiar, comfortable. He never wanted to let you go, kissing along your neck, sure to make you both late for work. 

A passion filled night turning into a lazy morning. He was sure you’d be late for work, but being so close to you was more than worth it. Traffic could be to blame, or a faulty alarm clock. Anything but the truth. Though, it didn’t matter. The connection between you two was magical, something nobody could deny. Not even Voight. 

Forty-eight hours ago, you were sitting at your desk across from his, laughing at a joke Adam made. Your hair pulled back to keep it out of your face, save for one strand that never wanted to listen. Jay couldn’t help but stare, not sure how he got so lucky to not only have you as his partner, his friend, his confidant, but the woman he got to share a bed with. He had to be the luckiest guy in the world, his eye catching yours as you directed that smile at him. 

Forty-seven hours ago, a case came calling. A young woman dead in an abandoned house in Austin. She had y/h/c hair, similar complexion. If he was being honest, she could have probably been your sister if you’d had one. 

Forty-six hours ago, the two of you were in the car, driving back to station to start working on leads to catch her killer.

Forty-five hours ago, you sat on your desk as her picture was taped to the white-board, brow furrowed. He knew every case hit you in a different way. You just wanted to make the world a better place, make Chicago safer every day. It was your home. 

Thirty-seven hours ago, the two of you dragged yourself back to your shared apartment, exhausted from the day’s work. There was no passion that night. Instead, it was groans as you laid down in bed. A quick kiss goodnight, before holding each other until sleep overtook you. 

Twenty-eight hours ago, they’d gotten a lead, but you weren’t there. Nobody was worried because you’d promised to bring them lunch. That’s what you were doing -- or what they thought you were doing. 

Twenty-seven hours ago, Jay started getting worried. You should have been back by then, but you were nowhere to be found. Your phone went straight to voicemail. The tracker on your car still had you at the restaurant, though a call to the manager said otherwise. He said you’d left almost an hour ago. 

Twenty-five hours ago, a note showed up in a box left on Trudy’s desk. How nobody saw who dropped it off would always be a mystery to Jay. Maybe if they’d paid attention, or if it hadn’t been as busy, or if the cameras were at the right angle they would have been able to see. Instead, they were left with a box with a picture of you. Ropes were around your wrists, gag in your mouth. Jay could swear he saw tears on your cheeks, though nobody else did. Maybe it was his imagination, but he knew there would be no sleep until you were home in his arms. 

Twenty hours ago, they caught their first big lead, leading them to an abandoned house in Garfield Park with no sign of you anywhere. Jay felt like he couldn’t breathe, didn’t know what to do besides work himself to the bone to find you. Again, there would be no sleep for him until you were home. 

Fifteen hours ago, Voight yelled at the team. Why couldn’t they find a single lead, a single clue that would lead them back to you. Jay didn’t want to imagine what your captors were doing, based on what the autopsy revealed on their first victim. Your picture was taped next to yours. Top priority. Intelligence wasn’t the only team looking for you, far from it. Every team in Chicago was looking for you. You were one of their own. 

Ten hours ago, Voight told him to sleep, even if it was on the couch in the break room. Jay was no good if he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He’d been staring at the picture on the white-board, your picture from the day you graduated the academy. It would be the same picture at your funeral if they didn’t find you in time. Jay didn’t sleep well, but got a couple hours. When he woke, he knew that was wasted time. 

Four hours ago, they finally caught their big break in the case. A disgruntled criminal you’d arrested early in your career had gotten parole. They were narrowing down where he could be keeping you.

Three hours ago, the team was getting ready in the dungeon as you so called it. Jay was strapping his vest on, not even letting Voight entertain the idea of taking him off the case. He was going to be there when they found you. He was going to be there for you, to make sure you were okay even if you weren’t. He was going to be there for you even if you were never okay again. 

An hour ago, he sat in the car next to Voight. Neither man said anything on the drive to the address. Jay’s hands were steady despite his heart pounding. Soon. Soon you’d be back in his arms. Soon, he’d be taking you home and making sure you were okay. Soon. That’s what he told himself. Soon. 

Twenty minutes...Thirty minutes ago, they were parking their cars just a couple blocks away as to not spook their suspect. Voight was directing them on the plan, who was with who. Where each team was going. Voight put Jay with Kim. It was go-time.

Ten minutes ago, Jay was the first to breach the house, gun drawn with Kim right behind him. Room by room, they cleared the basement and first floor before moving to the second. His heart pounded in his ears. So far, it didn’t seem like you were there. 

Two minutes ago, Jay finally reached the second floor. His hand was on the doorknob of one of the upstairs rooms, knowing you were going to be there. It was the last room of the house. He didn’t hear the radio going off, telling them the suspect was found dead in the backyard. His hand turned the knob, pushing the door open. 

One minute ago, Jay’s life was completely different. He had a future planned out with you. He had a ring in a drawer, waiting to ask you to marry him. He had the idea of the perfect life with you. He could see your kids running around, a smile on your face as you looked up at him with those eyes. You were his future. One minute ago, he had everything. 

“No,” he whispered, hand dropping and gun clattering to the floor. 

He took a step before falling to his knees next to you, not sure when the tears started. Was it before or after the sting of the hardwood hit his knees? He didn’t hear Kim suck in a breath behind him, too focused on you. Skin pale, unmoving. He knew he shouldn’t touch you, shouldn’t contaminate the crime scene. But this was you. Y/N. His partner. His confidant. His best friend. His future. 

“No!” he said again, louder, more forceful as he pulled you to his chest, not caring that the vest was the only thing that separated the two of you. 

Blood matted your hair, lips parted slightly. The same lips that forty-eight hours ago were kissing his skin. The same lips that he’d kissed a thousand times and was expecting to kiss a thousand more. Ropes were still tied around your wrists. Bruises were evident from where you tried to free yourself, knuckles bloody from the fight you gave. If he didn’t know any better, he could think that maybe you were sleeping. If it hadn’t have been for the gunshot wound to your abdomen, blood soaking the front of your shirt. 

“You’ve got to wake up,” he cried, a shaking hand stroking through your hair. Despite the blood being dry, that didn’t stop it from getting on his hands. “You can’t leave me, Y/N. You’ve got to wake up.” 

A radio keyed up behind him, but he didn’t move. “We found her,” Kim finally said, voice shaking. “He killed her.”

Jay paid no attention, falling back from his knees to his ass hard, bringing you with him as he cradled your body. Sobs coursed through him like the waves of an ocean, wracking his body. You couldn’t be gone. Just forty-eight hours ago, you were with him. Just forty-eight hours ago, you were living and breathing and laughing. Oh, how much could change in forty-eight hours. 

-----

Forty-eight hours ago, Jay was sitting in the bedroom of an abandoned house in Englewood. The hardwood floors stained with your blood, the paint peeling off the walls. He was sitting in the bedroom, cradling your body in his arms as he cried. He cried for the love that he lost, for the future he would never get with you. He cried because of the memories that were always only going to just be that -- memories. 

Forty-six hours ago, Adam drove him home to the apartment you shared. He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, not knowing what to expect when he walked in. His chest was heavy and tight, trying to will the tears away as he entered the apartment. 

“One of us will be over in the morning to check on you. Will’s on his way right now,” Adam told him before leaving. 

Jay was thankful he didn’t stay, locking the door behind him before pressing his back to the wood. He wasn’t sure he could go any further without you there, knowing you’d never be there again. He was never going to hear your laugh, or see your smile. He was never going to get to hold you, or tell you he loved you. He was never going to get that future he imagined with you. And his heart shattered, sobs coming from him again as he buried his face in his hands. You were never going to be there with him again, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

He’d experienced plenty of loss in his life. His mother dying. His friends. People coming and going. Yet, you were the last person he expected to leave him. You’d promised him at one point. You’d promised you’d never leave, and yet here he was. Crying alone in an empty apartment you’d never get to come back to. 

He cried for the future he’d never get, but yet the same one you’d never get to see. He still got to live his life. You didn’t. And if he could trade you spots, he would do it in a heartbeat. Because you were stronger than he could ever imagine himself to be. You’d get through this gracefully, not like him. 

Forty-three hours ago, Will showed up and held his younger brother as he cried. When he tried to take him to the bedroom to let him sleep, Jay wouldn’t budge. He begged Will to let him sleep on the couch, not able to sleep in the same bed that you’d shared. Will obliged, letting Jay sleep on the couch while he kept watch of his brother from the chair. This was going to set Jay back.

Forty hours ago, Jay woke up screaming. Screaming because he couldn’t save you. Screaming because he couldn’t get your dead body out of his head. Screaming because he blamed himself. 

Thirty-eight. Screaming. 

Thirty-six. Screaming.

Thirty-four. Screaming.

Thirty-two. He finally gave up on sleep. As did Will. He’d gotten up before his younger brother, making breakfast for him, knowing he needed to eat something. For a moment, Jay let his eyes remain closed as he thought that maybe you were home. That maybe it was all a nightmare he would wake up from. Until he saw his brother’s face, pity staring down at him with a plate of eggs. 

Thirty hours ago, he began planning your funeral. It was considered a line-of-duty death. You would be memorialized. He didn’t leave his apartment the rest of the day, Will telling the team it wasn’t the best time for them to come over. Maybe tomorrow. 

Sixteen hours ago, Will sedated his brother. He didn’t want to, but Jay had left him no choice. Jay was inconsolable with grief. He’d never seen his brother like this before, and he’d seen him at his worst. After their mother died, Jay was sad, but not like this. After Erin left, Will was able to glue the pieces back together. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do that again. Pieces were missing, pieces you took with you to the grave. Will had gotten his brother into bed, hoping that the sedative would help with the sleep.

Five hours ago, Jay woke up to Voight shaking his arm. The man stood in his dress-blues, solemn look on his face.

“It’s time, Jay,” he told him, letting Jay get himself ready in peace. 

He wasn’t expecting to wake up in your bedroom, tears coming to his eyes again. He was sick and tired of crying. He just wanted to be okay again, not knowing if that would ever happen. He took a shower, shaving his face. He tried to ignore the stranger that stared back at in him the mirror with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He could imagine you behind him, wrapping your arms around him as you pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. You would laugh and tell him to stop hogging the mirror.

But you weren’t there. You were a ghost in his memories. 

He exited the bathroom, pulling on his uniform, making sure it was straight. No wrinkles. Everything in place. Only the best for you. He pulled the ring box out of the drawer, placing it in his pocket before walking out to the living room. 

The entire unit was there. Each of them looking at him. He could see the sadness in their eyes, on their faces. Yet, he was consumed too much by his own grief that he had no words of comfort for them. 

Now, he stood next to your open casket at the front of the church. He was the last one there, nobody daring to move you until he was ready. They all knew one way or another that the two of you were together. 

He was tired of crying, pulling the box out of his pocket. 

“I was waiting for the right time,” he said softly, voice cracking. “I wanted you to have everything and more. And I couldn’t-” He grasped the side of the coffin, staring down at your face, unmoving still. “I couldn’t save you. And I’m sorry.” 

“You can’t blame yourself.” He chuckled, able to imagine what you’d say to him if you were there. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he told you, squeezing his eyes shut as tears dripped down his cheeks again. “Until I see you again.” He placed the ring box in your hands carefully. A part of him wanted to slide the ring on your finger, but knew he wouldn’t be able to. He never go to ask you to marry him, so why would he get to slide that ring on your finger. It was more fitting that it go with you to the grave. Carefully, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before turning and walking down the aisle of the church to go outside. 

He stood with the rest of Intelligence, waiting for the radio to go off. 

“Final call for 5021 Henry.” There was thirty seconds of complete silence. “5021 Henry is 10-7. End of watch August 8th, 2019. Detective Y/N Y/L/N served this community for the past eight years. A sister to us all. You may rest now, your watch is over.” 

The bagpipes played as the pallbearers carried your casket out to the hearse. Police cars lined the streets, every officer saluting until the hearse drove away to the cemetery. 

Jay was thankful that Voight had requested the burial to be more private. There would be your memorial, your name carved into the monument for those lost in the line of duty. This was for them to say goodbye. You had no family left, so it was just Intelligence standing around the grave-site. The priest said a few more words, everybody else silent as he spoke. The only other sound were the sniffles of the team, trying to keep it together. 

Jay didn’t want to say goodbye, but had no other option as the wooden box was lowered into the earth. How could so much change in forty-eight hours? He tried to imagine your smiling face in front of him, the feel of your fingertips on his skin. He didn’t know if he’d ever be alright, but for now, he could imagine.

[hargrove-mayfields]

this is part two of this fic if you want to read that first!! warnings in the tags!

When they finally make the leap out of Hawkins, they move into a one story in Oregon, of all places. It’s not California, but it’s close by, and the doctors say that for the sake of Billy’s lungs, he needs a more mild climate than he’d have there. Besides, Billy insists that anyplace is home enough for him as long as Steve’s with him.

After a few months of living there with a nagging sense that something was missing from the space, they’re able to complete their new home when they find an upright piano for next to nothing on the side of the road to replace the old grand they had to leave behind at Steve’s parents place.

It’s much less sophisticated than what they’re accustomed to, the finish had long ago chipped off and half of the yellowed keys played the wrong notes, but they’re able to fix it up with some work.

Once it’s presentable, shined up and once again functioning properly, it sits like a trophy in the corner of their dining room, a symbol of what they could do with music. That graceful ability to grow and to change and to heal that they were so familiar with, and of the love that developed between them on the bench.

Billy plays more than Steve does, to keep himself occupied when he’s on his own and itching to get out there and break every rule of his recovery laid down by his doctors.

Even after he regains most of his strength, his hands no longer shaking from the simplest of tasks, the piano never loses its power to keep him out of his thoughts, chasing away nightmares and rampant fears so he can feel like himself.

The sounds of Billy’s playing carrying through their houses, the soft twinkling of keys as the first rays of sunshine cut through curtained windows is like an alarm clock, has Steve waking up in a bliss each morning.

Even in the winter, when the cold is especially hard on Billy’s body, his scars sore like they’re still new and his joints stiff and aching, he’s guaranteed to be up to play at the first rays of the morning sun, usually before Steve is even up for work.

One particularly snowy morning, when Steve wakes up to the usual melody of Billy’s playing with the sun in his eyes, he takes a moment to just stay in bed and revel in the warm music drifting in the room before he realizes he’s slept through his alarm.

He panics for a moment, shoves his glasses onto his face crooked and stumbles out of the bed fast enough he almost trips over the comforters still wrapped around him, but in his effort to stay upright he notices a note on the nightstand.

In Billy’s shaky handwriting it reads, “School’s cancelled. Thought I’d let you sleep in -B”

Steve chuckles to himself over the mix-up, and peeks out the window past thick curtains to see a few inches of snow that wasn’t there when they’d gone to bed the night before. He’s not one to say he hates his job, or even dislikes it, teaching is what he’d always wanted to do, but a thousand times over he’d rather be given the chance to stay at home with Billy.

Without bothering to change out of his pajamas, he pads down the hall into the kitchen, focusing on the song drifting in from the dining room, one he doesn’t think he recognizes, as he starts to make their morning white tea.

Billy would’ve rather it be a morning coffee, but that much caffeine is bad for his heart, so they settle for tea with honey and a pinch of sugar.

“Mornin’, Stevie.” Without looking up, he acknowledges Steve as he enters with two steaming mugs. “Did you get my note?”

“Wouldn't I be out the door by now if I hadn’t?” Steve sets their teas on the corner of the dining table to cool, and sits down so he’s straddling the bench. He situates himself so he can wrap his arms loosely around Billy’s braced torso, and rest his cheek against his shoulder so he can watch scarred hands as they glide across the keys.

Billy chuckles, smiles down at the keys. “Touché.”

Once he’s settled, Steve sighs through his nose and asks, “What’s that you’re playin’?”

“S’a song called When.” This tip of Billy’s tongue pokes out just between his teeth, his concentration on what he’s playing intense. He acknowledges Steve again when he reaches a slower part of the song. “You wanna hear it?”

An answer isn’t really necessary, Billy knows undoubtedly that Steve is interested in anything he does, but he gives a confirmation regardless. “You know I do.” He shifts until he’s comfortable against Billy’s side, and Billy starts into the song.

His voice is much better than before, now that his throat is healed. It’s still a little gravelly, gets deeper when he sings where Steve’s gets higher, but it’s smooth and warm and just about Steve’s favorite sound in the whole world.

Closing his eyes, Steve focuses on just listening to the magical sounds that Billy can make, on feeling the soothing vibrations of his voice as he works through the piece.

With words the song is vaguely familiar, and it’s truly a beautiful thing.

It’s a ballad to nature, ironic for someone who spends most of his day confined to indoors or his own backyard. The song is gentle, full of pretty trills to accentuate even prettier lyrics, but it takes on a melancholy tone, given the context.

Appreciation for life, for the world and everything good within it is something anyone can relate to, but apply it to a sick man and it changes the meaning drastically. Gives it more a sense of longing for these things, and it’s got Steve feeling overwhelmed by its sincerity.

Typically, Billy favored songs he thought were fun like The Bitch is Back and piano covers of songs far too hard core for the dainty instrument, so it’s surprising, hearing him pouring his heart out through an actual ballad, but Steve is glad for it, that fond and warm feeling growing in his chest at hearing Billy’s song.

The song trills one more time into a slow crescendo, and finishes off in a way that Steve couldn’t have been expecting with the words, ““When the whole world is filled, with Mother Nature's noises… that's the time to stuff cotton in your ears!”

The change of tone in the song is so abrupt it makes Steve open his eyes again and pull away from his hold around Billy’s waist, keeping his fingers linked but leaning way back to look at his face. Billy’d duped him, had him feeling all emotional before revealing his cards, his normal sense of humor.

He’s wearing a smile, crooked and relaxed as he takes in Steve’s reaction, the confusion at the pace change. Despite the humor twinkling in his eyes, he asks innocently, “What?”

“Nothing.” Steve can’t help but smile back, even if he shakes his head at Billy’s choice of song.

Still smiling, Billy kisses him, soft and slow in a way that has always made Steve feel like it was the first time, his heart doing backflips while he melts into the bench.

They pull away for a breath, and the moment passes bittersweet, just as many do these days. Giggle almost always turn to tears anymore, and Steve feels his lip start to tremble, feels Billy put a hand on the small of his back so he can pull him closer and sigh into his hair.

Billy’s dying.

The doctors say he’s only got a few years left in him, if that. His heart is worn out from too many surgeries and medications to keep the hole in his chest closed.

They can’t fix it for fear of doing nothing but speeding up the process. They’re stuck with the recommendation to take him home and make him comfortable that nobody ever wants to hear, especially not now, when they’re still young, supposed to be living their lives to the fullest.

He’s already lived longer than they initially estimated when his body started rejecting the transplanted lung a while back, but he’s sick, getting sicker all the time.

The weight he’d been able to put back on in the years following that initial hospital stay was gone again, and his lung capacity was worse every day to the point that even with the oxygen tubes he felt breathless and dizzy, and he was coughing up blood.

Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do when Billy’s gone. Doesn’t know if he’ll keep teaching, if he’ll leave the area, he doesn’t like to dwell on it too much.

But what he does know for sure, is that the house will never be silent, and the piano won’t be covered. Won’t be forgotten in that corner or left unplayed after he goes.

It will stay just where Billy left it, to commemorate him and all he’d done with it, to honor and remember his music through Steve’s own.

Moments like these, fleeting as they are, are everything to Steve anymore. When Billy isn’t here anymore, all he would have were the memories of mornings like these and every second together with him, sealed in a box in his heart where nobody could touch them.

To lose the person behind that, there are no words that can describe how hard that’s going to be. Loss has never been easy for Steve, and having time to anticipate it did nothing but draw out the pain of knowing what was coming, what he’d have to let go of.

But it wouldn’t hurt forever.

Of course he would allow himself the time to mourn, how couldn’t he, when he’d be losing the only person who’d been able to take every wish and dream he could ever have possibly had and make them all come true, who’d ever really loved him. But he promised Billy, and himself, that he wouldn’t let himself be sad.

Because he refuses to remember him by his lows, all the countless days spent in the hospital, sleepless nights when he’d have coughing fits and be in so much pain he couldn’t sleep, the teary eyed panic attacks when something triggered a bad memory. That wasn’t Billy.

When the time comes, Steve wants to keep making music. To use the very tool he’d given Billy after government conspiracy and more than a year in the hospital, back then to offer him an outlet to feel better, to now keep his memory alive. Give him a legacy.

In the moment, Steve lets Billy wipe away his tears and pull him closer still to kiss the top of his head. He chokes back a sob listening to that wavering heartbeat from where he’s drawn close, and tries to chase the thoughts away.

Because they’re here now. Billy isn’t gone yet and Steve isn’t letting go. Right now, there’s still time to create more moments to hold onto, to create something beautiful, melodic, powerful.

Steve taught Billy to play the piano, but Billy taught Steve how to live in the moment, how to care for someone with all of his heart. More than anything, Billy taught Steve how to grieve.

[cosmiclatte28]

Take Care (Second part of villain! Taemin series)

I did the first part here, a villain!Taemin x hero!reader imagine / scenario 

and I come up with another imagine... (╹ڡ╹ )

ENJOY!! 

You wake up wincing from the pain from your internal injuries and scars. Opening your eyes slowly, you realize you’re not in your own bedroom. Looking around, this is new and unfamiliar. The smell of fresh sheet is definitely not the one you used to wash your clothes in. Where are you?

Your head feels heavy, you did not quite remember what happened yesterday, but now you’re more confused when the room you are in lacks pictures or clues of where you are.

You push yourself to sit down on the bed, holding one hand to your head, you made it to a sitting position. There is no clock or alarm in sight, but the sun ray peeking through the curtain is enough to tell you it’s late already.

A distasteful grumble from your empty stomach snaps you back to reality. Hey you’re starving. Judging by how sore your stomach is, you know you haven’t had food since last night.

With much struggle, you stand up and wobble a bit. Feeling super weak since your body doesn’t have energy at all to actually move, but you heard the deafening silence in the house and you know you’re all alone. If you do not eat now, you’ll pass out and passing out in a house you don’t know… is not a good idea.

One palm over your temple, tells you that you’re having fever. Judging by the pain you feel under your skin, some internal bleeding must have happened when you fought yesterday and thus having fever made sense. Now who the hell is taking care of you?! Why doesn’t that person leave you food or at least check on your condition before leaving the house like this.

You walk slowly to the kitchen, awfully stopping whenever you feel like falling. The refrigerator doesn’t have food except an apple juice and the medicine rack luckily has aspirins.

You drink the apple juice as if it’s the finest wine in the world, savouring the sweet tangy feeling of the golden-brown liquid sliding down your dry throat.

Sadly, that happiness didn’t last long, there was not much apple juice in the carton, and you can only fill your stomach with a water and aspirin.

You groan and try to walk back to the room to rest and make sure you’re healing properly; nevertheless, your legs give up. Halfway there, you no longer feel the ground and you fall.

You slump down sideways against one of the sofa, thinking of crawling back to the room, only to realize that sounds so hard and challenging.

Your eyes grow heavy and unknowingly, you’re drifted to sleep.

Hours later, Taemin comes home to his house. In his hands are bag of groceries product. He did not realize his fridge is so empty, if he did not check them this morning to make you food. He wanted to make you food, but when he was on his way to shop, there’s an urgent call and he must leave you behind starving. Taemin believes you’re a strong hero and starving once won’t kill you.

The tall slim figure kicks the door opens with his full hands and quietly makes his way to the kitchen. He did not see you yet, for he is focused with the eggs and bottles of wines he just bought.

Taemin hums as he takes his time to arrange the food and drink stocks. He only remembers your existence when he sees the empty apple juice box and the opened aspirin bottle.

“Oh shit (y/n)! I hope she did not pass out!” Taemin rushes to your room, only to pause when he sees your lifeless form on the ground. Sleeping uncomfortably against the sofa.

“Fuck-“ he goes down to support your weak body. “Wake up (y/n)!!” He pulls half of your body up to his chest and he feels how you’re still warm and hot from the fever.

You’re sleeping so deep, but the fever made you rumble chaotic words. It’s burning there on your temple, just as Taemin wants to touch your neck you stir from your sleep.

”No! Don't- Don't touch me!" you scream in a weak voice, flinching away from the desperate Taemin’s touch. Your eyes were wild, your breathing fast and shallow like you just woke up from nightmare, your whole-body trembling in uncontrollable fear.

"I'm not going to hurt you", Taemin says, gently taking you by the hand holding it firmly. Gosh it’s burning! Your eyes met.

“They’re trying to take me down again..” your eyes in run around in terror, looking through the empty living room. But Taemin gets it, you’re probably imagining things from the fever.

He understands this coz he once gone through this. Gently Taemin holds you softly and whispers in a sweet calming voice next to your ear.

"Listen to me. You're safe and they aren’t going to hurt you again. I'm here now. Trust me, I won't let anybody hurt you." Taemin expects you to yank your hand away in panic, but you didn't -instead you relax a little, tears forming in your bloody eyes, and let out a shaky breath.

"I-“ your eyes are still wildly scanning the room, just to calm down when you realize nobody is there.

"It's okay", Taemin calms you down. He smiles and pulls you into a hug you didn’t resist "It's okay.” Your eternal enemy hugs you tightly as he comforts your trembling body.

“Sorry for leaving you without meals, now I have foods… shall we eat and take care of your body?” Taemin soothes a hand on your sweaty back.

“I’ll have you drink the milk and you can change your clothes with a dry one, then we can eat dinner.” Taemin stands up to leave you, but you hold on to his leg.

“Don’t leave me, they’re coming back…” your eyes are glazzy again.

Taemin crouches down and runs a hand on your hair, “That’s your mind playing tricks. Calm down, you’re safe here.” He plants a quick kiss on your crown of hair and your eyes widen when you realize what he just did.

“Now, want to follow me to the kitchen or stay here?” he puts away the strands of hair sticking on your face.

“You.” You say and hug his arm tighter.

Taemin smiles and helps support you back to your feet. With his help, you are now seated on the dining table. He hands you one glass of warm milk and a bread. Like his promise, you change to a fresh clothe and wait him for dinner in a better state. You still sometimes doze off and shake, but when Taemin reaches out for your hand, you’re calm again.

“Look, I don’t know what else they do, that makes you this vulnerable and paranoid, but trust me for this once…. That I am taking care of you until you’re strong again to fight me.” He smirks, “After all, I need my healthy strong rival back.”

You secretly smile on his statement, Taemin indeed is the best rival one could ask for.

  THE END