#'hi sorry i ghosted your simple question for two days i forgot you messaged me' AGH

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

the desire to do comms vs my inability to remember that i got a message FIGHT-

[thefanficmonster]

Perspective

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse recounts the time he first met his now best friend who too has been gifted with a deep voice.

Requested by two Anons. This fic is a mash up of two very similar requests I got from an unnamed Anon and 🖤🥀 Anon, so a big thank you to the both of you for sending in your requests! I’m really sorry to be posting your requested fic so late but I hope the final product is gonna make the wait you had to endure worth it! If you come across it and read it, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Yeah, yeah ok, I know.“ I can’t help but playfully roll my eyes at the comments that are flooding in, “Before any more people address it - even though it’s only been five minutes - I’m gonna address it myself: I apologize for the absence of the guest I promised would accompany me on this stream. She made the choice to party until late - or should I say early - and is currently probably asleep. And...I just don’t have the heart to wake her.“

In all honesty, all the blame should fall on Y/N’s lack of responsibility but I could never say such a thing - she rarely let’s herself loose and allows herself to have fun so there’s no way I’m gonna hold this one instance against her. Quite the contrary actually: I hope she starts going out and having fun more frequently cause really deserves it. She’s a super hardworking girl, studying college and working her ass off simultaneously.

“For those of you who don’t know who I’m referring to: the girl in question is Y/N, aka Jumpscaretastic, a horror games oriented streamer. She was supposed to join me for this freaky journey but...yeah I’ll have to endure it on my own because fuck me.“ I take a look at my chat again, deciding to keep this interaction with my viewers going for a bit longer before I start the game. I may be stalling but you sure as hell won’t hear me admit it. The game may be terrifying as hell - I have no doubt it is - but I doubt it would affect me so much if Y/N was here.  My eyebrows furrow automatically at the sight of one specific question that I’ve been getting asked quite a lot recently and I’ve been doing my best to avoid it cause the idea - to me, at least - is so messed up. Why, we’ll get into that later. “No- ok, this is the first and last time I’ll be addressing this wild assumption, you guys, so listen carefully. Y/N and I are by no means related. I’m not related to every deep-voiced person on this planet, just FYI.“ Speaking of Y/N’s deep voice which I’ve gotten so accustomed to hearing, I can’t help but recall the first interaction the two of us had when she got invited by Toast for a game of Among Us with us when Felix canceled on us due to technical difficulties. “I may not be related to her but she really put into perspective how other people feel and react when they hear my voice. I, honestly speaking was astonished by hers.“

A few months ago

“Ok guys, since Felix texted me about an hour ago, saying he won’t be able to make it, I invited a friend of mine so I hope that’s ok with you.“ Toast announces when the majority of us have accumulated in the lobby.

“Yeah, all cool. An introduction to them would be nice though.“ Charlie says, tampering with his avatar’s appearance on the in-game laptop.

“Oh, I’m sure she can do that herself.” He says with a bit of a chuckle, “Y/N?“

“I’m here, I’m here.“ 

My gaze moves from my chat to the monitor displaying the game in an instant as though it would reveal to me who the owner of this unfamiliar voice that just travelled through my headphones is. You know how my voice is considerably deep, yeah well this girl’s voice is six feet below that.  My eyes have widened without me even noticing as I hurry to unmute myself despite being a little late to the reaction party which already consists of a ton of ‘OMG’s and “WHOA”s from the rest of the people in the call. Not one of them, however, considers to question the authenticity of the voice.

“Was that a voice changer or something?“ I say, my eyebrows shooting up when I hear the laugh I receive in response to the question - a sound so deep but simultaneously sweet and girly it messes with my head.

“I wish I kept count so I could tell you which number on the list of people who’ve asked me that you fall under.“ The girl, Y/N replies, “But for the record no, it’s not a voice changer.“

Realizing how hypocritical this question probably seems coming from me, I decide to believe her - probably cause she gets nothing if she lies anyways. “Oh, so this is how it feels hearing my voice for the first time, huh?“ I say, slowly nodding my head, still in slight disbelief.

“Yeah, meeting her was quite rattling - in the best way possible though.“ I say, fixating myself back in reality following the little trip back in time to the day Y/N and I met. “She’s now one of my best friends so that should tell you enough.“

It goes without saying that, since she’s my best friend, I know her quite well. That being said, with the detailed knowledge I have on her, I can guess she’s gonna be in for a massive hangover when she wakes up. I just hope she texts me when she does so I can make sure she’s at least semi-functional. Just then, my phone buzzes with a message. Much to my shock, it’s a message from Y/N. Truth be told, I didn’t expect her to be up for another hour or two or three but here she is, sending a simple text that reads:

“My head’s pounding like a drum mid rock n’ roll concert“

There are no emojis accompanying the message, suggesting she’s deadly serious and in quite a bit of pain. Ok, I won’t sugarcoat it - she’s in a fuck-load of pain right now.

“The Sleeping Beauty has awaken and is complaining about a headache, just in case you were wondering.“ I chuckle seemingly nonchalantly as I silently contemplate whether to text her back or call her instead. Who’s gonna know better than my viewers, after all... “You guys think I should call her? Or would that annoy her?“ I ask, furrowing my brows at the chat as I see different responses coming in.

Meh, fuck it -  I think to myself, already taking my phone to call Y/N when the support of my viewers floods in as well.

She picks up after two rings, letting out a sound that sets the tone for the discomfort she’s in.

“Hello to you too.“ I say, putting the call on speaker so my mic can pick up her responses. “Would you please rate the pain you’re in right now on a scale 1-10?“

“A hundred.“ Her strained, raspy and deeper than usual voice comes through, stealing a chuckle from me, “I’m hungover and still a bit drunk. Like, how does that even work?“

“The morning after is a straight-up bitch. Welcome to the world of bad decisions.“ I tell her compassionately, low-key wishing I could go over to her place and provide her with at least a tiny bit of comfort, as much as I can.

“Yeah...“ she sighs halfway dramatically, “Anyhow, we usually text around this time, what’s up with the call?“

“Just wanted to make sure my best-girl wasn’t really dying, you know. Who am I supposed to annoy in Among Us if you’re not there, after all?” I raise my brow and, although she can’t see me, I bet she can probably guess I’m doing that.

“Whatever...“ The same way I can imagine her rolling her eyes while smiling as she said that, “Tell me this, am I wrong or was I supposed to be on your stream today?“

I barely manage to hold in my laughter at the question, “Uh, yeah you were, but...” she doesn’t let me finish my sentence, instead cuts me of:

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, Corpse! I totally forgot. Believe me, if I could roll my ass out of bed I’d hop in but I really can’t. Unless you want me to be a bore for an hour and a half, that is.“

“For starters, you could never be a bore to me.“ I say matter-of-factly, “And for seconds, you’re kinda on the stream anyway...“

“Come again?“ She cuts me off yet again, “You’re calling me mid-stream? If so, hey everyone! Sorry I couldn’t join, I promise to make it up to both you and Corpse soon.“ A yawn comes from her end before she continues, “As of now, I think I’ll go back to sleep.“

“Alright, alright. I’ll call you again later to make sure you’re still alive. Sleep tight.“ I tell her, already hovering my thumb over the ‘Hang up‘ button.

“Won’t let the hangover bite.“ She slurs/murmurs, stealing my opportunity to end the call cause she does it herself.

I stare at my phone for a second, finally becoming aware of the grin that has spread across my face. Eventually, I address my viewers once again, “There you have it, guys. Technically, you can give her a pass for answering the call, especially in her current state, so let’s all agree to not hold this against her, cool?“

A brief look at my chat shows me the ton of fluffy comments that are coming in as a reaction to the interaction Y/N and I just had. One, however, sticks out especially. It reads: ‘You like her or smt?’

“Do I like Y/N?“ I read the comment out loud, a smirk coming across my face, “Of course I do. She’s a darling.“ If I had a webcam on I’d look straight into the lens and wink. That’s probably spark more than enough rumors, but at the very least they wouldn’t be wrong. “I’ve stalled enough, Outlast is waiting.“ I announce, finally starting the game. After all, it cannot be scarier than the conspiracies my fans could come up with. I get it though - from their perspective, we’re already the perfect couple; from my perspective we’re impossible because from Y/N’s perspective we’re best friends.

Ain’t that how it always goes?

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo  @beatrhizn  @blueberrystigma  @beatrhizn  @chicken-taco-burrito  @scorpios-echos

[seita]

— reacting to your death.

includes: oikawa, iwaizumi, matsukawa, hanamaki, + kyoutani.

+ this is childhood friend!reader.

tw: major character death, grieving, blood and violence mention.

p a r t o n e ;;

⤿ part two: next (coming soon!)

-ˋˏ seijoh ˎˊ-

— tooru oikawa.

to tooru, the best course of action is to ignore it.

ignore the hurt, ignore the pain.

ignore the news completely.

in his mind, you’re just on vacation. or maybe you’re mad at him and ignoring him. you’ll come back.

he makes up scenarios and reasons in his head for why you’re not around. iwaizumi is angry, always yelling at him for being an idiot when he brings you up. but he doesn’t understand why.

he won’t talk about it. he doesn’t even acknowledge you’re gone until the funeral.

+

his hands are clasped in front of himself. the suit is uncomfortable and he doesn’t want to approach the casket. iwaizumi stands beside him, a sharp scowl plastered on his face.

“are you finally ready to face it?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet so the grieving people around them aren’t disturbed.

oikawa huffs out a laugh but it’s shaky -- watery. he’s trying so hard not to cry that it’s making his throat close up painfully. iwaizumi relaxes beside him with a sigh, his shoulders sagging before placing his hand on the taller’s shoulder.

“she wouldn’t want you to ignore it, shittykawa,” oikawa wants to laugh at his friend using that name even in the current situation.

typical iwaizumi.

always a pillar. always trying to be the strong one.

suddenly, oikawa finds himself wondering what your place in their little dynamic was. it feels like he can’t even remember you properly. it’d only been a few days since they lost you and it already feels like he’s...

“i don’t want to forget her,” oikawa suddenly chokes out, unable to stop his tears from falling finally.

“well then don’t dumbass,” iwaizumi’s voice was breaking, choked as he cried but oikawa didn’t want to look because he didn’t want to see his other friend falling apart as well.

— hajime iwaizumi.

he does not have good coping methods. his first and most immediately reaction is denial. he doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing, so he just...doesn’t.

he assumes everyone is lying to him. there’s no way he could lose you. you’d been his friend since you were children; it’d always been you, iwa, and oikawa. so how could you possibly just be...gone?

the answer? you couldn’t.

that’s what he chose to believe, anyway.

+

“what are you talking about, shittykawa?” he snaps, refusing to pull his nose from his notes, “i think this has to be your worst joke yet.”

“it’s not a joke,” oikawa sighs, shuffling on his feet as he sniffles. if iwa chanced a look up at him, he’d see his friend had been crying for hours. but he wouldn’t look. because he didn’t want to see it, “her mom tried calling you...couldn’t get a hold of you. so i thought i’d...”

iwa slammed his notebook down, glaring straight ahead, “i told you to stop playing these stupid fucking jokes on me. it’s not funny.”

“iwa-”

“get the fuck out,” iwa jumped to his feet, grabbing the other brunette by the shirt.

the fabric creaked as it stretched. but oikawa didn’t put up a fight, letting iwaizumi toss him out of his bedroom door. he hit the floor with a thud before wincing at the deafening slam of the bedroom door.

iwaizumi sit back down, pulling up your text message. he had never answered your text asking if he would be alright studying on his own today. he had meant to answer but just forgot. his thumbs moved across the keyboard, eyes blurring with tears as he typed.

“come over. we can hang out together, okay?”

— issei matsukawa.

he was the first to admit that he wasn’t the best friend to have. he was sort of ghosty and a bit unreliable. he doesn’t mean to be. you knew that. he knew you did.

so there’s no way you would be upset with him, right? not for what he did.

he lets his own guilt eat him alive. even if everyone on earth told him it wasn’t hit fault -- he still puts every ounce of blame upon himself.

he lets it eat him alive. he thinks he deserves it.

because he let you down.

+

he stared at his phone. sometimes he could clearly see what he was looking at and other times it felt like he blacked out.

it was your text thread.

it wasn’t unusual for him to ghost you. he was never very talkative. you liked to tease him about it from time to time.

still, looking back, he could have at least responded this one time.

he doesn’t even remember what he was doing. probably nothing as important as it felt at the time.

“can you come pick me up?” it was a simple question. he hadn’t even bothered to ask where you were. if he had, he would have known you were only 10 minutes by car. it would have taken no time at all to stop what he was doing and go get you.

he wonders how long you had stared at his read receipt, wondering if he was going to come. he’ll never know.

he’ll never know the answer to why you were out so late. why you needed him to pick you up. how you felt in your last moments. he wondered if you thought of him then. if you blamed him. if you were sad or hurt by his ignoring you.

why didn’t he just go get you? why didn’t he answer you?

if he had, you would still be safe.

he wishes he could talk to you again. tell you that he was sorry. he didn’t know how important it was. he didn’t know you were scared -- that you weren’t safe.

he wanted to apologize, tell you that whatever stupid shit he was doing was nowhere near as important as you were.

he wanted to know if you had thought about him in your last moments -- the one person you had reached out to for help.

only for him to fail you.

he just wishes you knew that he didn’t mean to let you die.

— takahiro hanamaki.

it’s gotta be a joke, right?

ha-ha really funny. come out now.

when you don’t he’s confused. this really isn’t funny.

you can’t be gone. you can’t. because he needs you.

who else is going to help him during exams. or laugh at his terrible jokes. or make him feel better when he has his heart broken. what about when he’s sick? who will make him that amazing soup that always has him better in a day?

he refuses to let you go. he can’t be without you. it’s just not realistic.

so just...come out of wherever you’re hiding now, okay?

+

he tries to force the smile to remain in place as he stares at the unfamiliar faces in front of him.

“what um...what do you mean?” he laughs nervously, placing his hand to rub nervously on the back of his neck.

they repeat the news. it goes in one ear and out the other. he laughs, ignoring the confused look on their faces.

he takes a few steps back, shaking his head.

“that’s a...real funny joke. i’m just gonna...” he feels tears stinging at his eyes but he doesn’t know why. it’s obviously just a joke. he doesn’t want to be that dork who cries over a practical joke, “go call her now.”

they don’t try to call him back, pity on their faces as he slumps away, phone in hand as he dials your number. he’s pretty sure he’s far enough away when he starts crying at the sound of your voicemail.

— kentarou kyotani.

kyoutani copes violently. if there is one thing he doesn’t like, it’s change. and there’s no bigger change than losing someone you’ve known your entire life.

he didn’t have many friends -- really you were the only one he was comfortable actually giving that title. so without you, he had no one. he refused to let you go.

anger builds and builds.

and without you there to mellow him out like you usually do...it explodes.

+

there’s a fist sized dent in the wall. or maybe 4.  his knuckles are busted open and bleeding but he doesn’t feel the pain. his shoulders are heaving but even after lashing out he doesn’t feel better.

what is he supposed to do?

usually he calls you.

usually you come waltzing into his bedroom with a frown, ‘kenta, you can’t do that!’ you’d scold him. but you wouldn’t.

he knew you wouldn’t.

but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

god, he wanted you to walk in so bad. even if you didn’t knock. sometimes he would get so mad at you for that. but right now, he would give anything to hear his bedroom door fly open.

he held his fist close to his chest, squeezing his eyes closed to keep himself from crying. he never cried. he didn’t want to start now. he clenched his jaw together aimed his fist at the wall again, a large cracking noise coming from the plaster as if caved under the pressure.

then, almost as if it were out of his best dreams, the door clicked open. he whirled around with wide eyes, hope sparkling within them.

only to find the troubled face of tsukishima there instead of you.

kyoutani finally allowed himself to cry.

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

[maplerin99821]

hey if you accept requests can you make a fluffy fanfic about Lucifer and Mammon being close? like that pic that you reblogged?

Hello, Anon! Omg, sorry for the long wait!!! 🥺💖 I was busy with irl stuff but AAAA I have finished the fluffy fic! I'm sorry if it didn't reach your expectations.😓 It was a bit difficult to write 'cause I'm not really used to writing fluff.😂 But I hope you like it!! (Also, I didn't base this fic off to the art that I had reblogged, but it's still a fluff fic!! It's fan art, and I think I need permission to write a fic about it.😅 So here's fluffy fanfic of Lucifer and Mammon being close.) Thanks for being the first person to request me haha. Please enjoy this. _ A Day To Relax. [ 1 & 2 ]

Mammon's back hurts; he did the best he could to organized the library at RAD. Maybe he deserves this, or maybe not. He sighs for the tenth time of the day.

There's nothing he can do about it because this was his light punishment for skipping classes again. Although he hates doing chores for his discipline, he needed to be a good big brother for Asmodeus.

Mammon decided to skip his classes so that he could be there to support his little brother. Everyone was busy at that time, with upcoming exams and projects, not one of the brothers could make time for Asmo. The latter understood. It's not like he could force his brothers to watch the stageplay with his classmates. But when he saw Mammon among the crowd with his D.D.D out, he almost cried while performing on stage.

(He felt a bit guilty when he found out that Mammon, believe it or not, skipped classes to watch him.)

Mammon stretched his back when he felt his phone vibrating. He took it out from his back pocket to receive a message from Asmodeus.

[Hey.

I just wanted to say thanks for supporting me there.

This beautiful brother of yours is going to treat you tomorrow! <3]

His lips cracked a smile. He feels soft and loved. Mammon chuckled as he took his bag, ready to go home. He had finished organizing anyway; he preferred to play on his phone for a while.

He started walking to the hallways; almost all of the demons were back to their places already. Some are doing their part-time jobs, and some are being lazy at home (Preferably Belphegor.)

"Mammon."

In instinct, Mammon quickly turned around. He already knows that deep voice.

"Are ya gonna assign me another chore to do?" Mammon quickly questioned his older brother, who was leaning into the student council's door frame.

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly annoyed already. He pushed back his hair and fixed the wrinkles of his uniform.

"No. Well, if you want to do more. Your choice." With that answer, Mammon crossed his arms, a pout on his face— ready to complain. But Lucifer stopped him.

"Remember that cafe I showed you the other day? Let's go there, my treat." Lucifer stated; he laughed when he saw Mammon froze.

"I don't believe you." His eyes narrowed, looking for a flaw in Lucifer's face and words. "Are ya' truly Lucifer? What if you're a ghost possessing my big bro's body?"

Mammon intentionally loudened his gasp; his eyes were wide, one hand placed on his heart, while the other was grasping on his hair. He paused for a dramatic effect.

Lucifer brought his hand up quickly to pinch his brother's cheek. "You idiot. It's me, of course." He proceeded to ruffles Mammon's hair. "Come on, let's go before I change my mind and give you another chore as punishment. Maybe you could clean up the laboratory next time for a month."

He whispered the last part, but Lucifer knew Mammon could hear him, making the second-born whine.

The two exited the school, taking a detour through the streets.

"I thought yah were gonna give me another punishment." Mammon broke out the silence; Lucifer hummed before replying.

"Why would I? I only gave you a chore for skipping classes, but you being there for Asmodeus? You don't deserve punishment for that."

Mammon stared at the far distance. The cafe they were going to has a nearby sea, and he smiled at his elder brother's words; he enjoyed these simple moments between them. (They're rare. They don't hang out anymore like they used to do in the Celestrial realm. That's why, as much as possible, Mammon cherished these moments.)

Mammon could say that he's close with Lucifer, but not like before— It's weird. Lucifer is his older brother, his family. But as time passed by, Mammon started to get nervous whenever he had done something wrong. He doesn't want to anger and disappoint Lucifer. (But sometimes, he can't help it— he misses his big brother's attention.)

"We're here," Lucifer said. Mammon followed the latter's gaze and immediately formed star-shaped eyes.

"WOAH!! I didn't expect it to be this cool! I only saw the picture but never expected that it would be this big!"

Mammon kept looking around the newly built cafe. The cafe was a bit massive, with a view of the sea beside it. Its structure is similar to a casino. Mammon could already smell the fresh-baked bread and pies inside, making him giggle.

Mammon had loved the view it was showing; he could eat while staring at the horizon. The cafe was located on top of a hill, not too far from the beach. It looks so nostalgic and therapeutic that Mammon took his time admiring the whole place while Lucifer already entered the cafe.

Mammon wished it wasn't too expensive. He knows that Lucifer would be the one to pay, but he doesn't want to burden him with that kind of responsibility. The second-born tried to grasp the wallet on his bag, but then he hesitated. Mammon recalled that the money in there was a payment to his debt.

Ah, yes. Mammon needed to pay it today but decided it would be better to bond with his brother first.

He sighed, still has a firm grip on his bag. He's feeling unwanted emotions today. He wants to cry, laugh, or do something he doesn't usually do. Mammon was overwhelmed with emotions.

He remembered Levi's words that it's okay to be feeling emotions you usually can't explain. Sometimes, it doesn't have to be a reason.

Mammon's snapped out of his thoughts, thinking that Lucifer was likely waiting for him inside. He turned to see the display of different pastries outside, and Mammon immediately recognized Simeon's art.

Mammon recalled Simeon's word. He said that he's going to work part-time somewhere near the sea. And this made Mammon excited. He had already counted the treats and thinking which one would his brothers choose. After planning, he tried to hurry inside but suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Mammon looked over to his shoulder to see an unfamiliar demon. Their body is most likely the same size as Beelzebub but with a strict stare present. Mammon felt like he was burning.

"Heya! May I ask—who are you?" Mammon said; his tone wasn't that confident, and it's evident with his form that Mammon's going to run away in any second now.

He felt the grip on his shoulder got tighter, and the demon dragged Mammon into a less crowded area. He knows he's far powerful than this guy; he's one of the princes of Devildom. He's the Avatar of Greed. But man, he entirely wants to relax today. Mammon tried to stand with honor and kept his breathing in control.

The demon startled him. "Where's the money?"

And then Mammon realized.

"Oh!? You must be the brother's witch! Ah, here— give me a minute," Mammon took out his wallet and gave them the money. He doesn't feel that nervous anymore. Okay— he lied, maybe a little bit. Can't a demon have fears too? "Geez, you scared the hell out of me for a second there. The agreement was me and her meeting later." He muttered the last part.

But a dark aura surrounded him, and Mammon quickly backed away. He can't meet the other demon's eyes, but he can feel the rage from him.

Is the money not enough?? It can't be. I perfectly counted this; I also worked hard for this. What else could be missing???

"With all due respect, please don't go any nearer to him."

A voice. It must be Lucifer's. Mammon couldn't stop overthinking. What if Lucifer scolds him after this? What if Lucifer started to regret spending time with Mammon because of this?

Mammon looked up, tears threatening to fall. He saw his elder brother, standing behind them as classy as ever. His composure is straight, yet the glaring eyes are full of terror. Mammon recognized Lucifer's stance. It's for preparing himself to change into his demon form if the rest of his younger brothers are in serious trouble.

When the demon started to get closer to Mammon, the latter only felt a swift wind before realizing that Lucifer was there, in front of him now. "Didn't you hear what I said? What else do you need from him?"

"The money."

"It's not sufficient? Then alright, here." Lucifer took out his wallet to satisfy the demon in front of them. Mammon's full-out panicking now. His older brother saved him from trouble, and now he's going to be a disappointment in Lucifer's eyes.

"There, you got the money. Tell your sister that my brother had paid the debt." Lucifer dragged Mammon out of the other demon's sight. He looked back with sharp eyes.

"And as great as reasonable, if you're looking for Mammon—" He looked back with sharp eyes. "—strictly appear to see me. Thank you."

Both never turned their eyes back again as they entered the shop. Mammon quickly explained the whole situation. "I'm sorry! I'm sure— precisely sure that I had counted that money. And it's exactly the price the witch had been asking. I don't know what he's up to with—" He kept on babbling as they reached their reserved seats. Lucifer sighed.

"Look, stop chattering; it's annoying. I believe you. Can't I have a day where I relax with my little brother under no stress or orders whatsoever? Seeing you outside in that kind of situation is making my blood boil. How dare he waste such time when you and I could have been eating here already."

Mammon snickered, ah yeh— It's been so long that he forgot how dramatic Lucifer could be at times.

"Forget about it, Mammon. You had settled the debt, and the food that I ordered is already here. But make sure whenever you're going to meet someone concerning payment, always inform me. I'm serious. If the shares had been a burden to handle, you are welcome to visit my office anytime."

Lucifer already had bread in his mouth, but his expression is still irritable from the situation earlier. Mammon can feel his tears coming back again. Why am I so emotional today?

"Ah. Uhm, hey—" He called out to his older brother. "Thanks for backing me up earlier. I appreciated it!"

Lucifer munched the donut he was holding and then drank the newly served tea. His gaze was on the view outside, seemingly avoiding eye contact. "Hm? Of course. I'm your big brother after all, in case you forgot about it."

In moments like this, it was a rare scene between him and Lucifer. They usually argue and sometimes making each other's day stressful. But, just them eldest brothers, talking and sharing random topics— Mammon cherished this.

And behind that frown the eldest always wears, Lucifer could say the same too. He loved calm moments like this.

"But ain't Michael my first big brother?" Mammon teased. Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Silence, you have no elder brother other than me. Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor, you all are my baby brothers." And when Lucifer realized what he said, he quickly replaced the topic. "And eat the dessert I ordered for you."

Mammon's eyes turned into stars immediately when he recognized the smell, "Woah, no way?! How did you know this was my favorite?!!! This desert is expensive! Big bro! You do love me."

Then they chatted, random topics or something concerning about their home that needs fixing. Nevertheless, the atmosphere around them is comforting and warming. After a while, they had finished eating, and the moon was already out. Both agreed to go home.

"We should invite the others here too!" Mammon stated as he breathed the cold wind that passed by them.

"Yes, that would be a pleasant bonding time. Just don't be too chaotic, please. It's hard to handle all six of you."

It was a great day, Mammon thought to himself. It was entertaining and soothing to talk with his big brother without insults nor orders. Lucifer treated him today; it was— nostalgic for Mammon. It's like he doesn't want this kind of treatment to end. But of course, as the little mischief, as he is, he asked one more request.

"Lucifer!" Mammon rolled the letter r, a bit of a whining tone. "It's night, and I'm tired, yah know? Can I request a piggyback ride?" He knows Lucifer will reject it immediately. So it wasn't like he meant it, already hoping for the worst.

But then Lucifer looked at him, a contemplating expression, before getting down on one knee.

"Alright, just this once. Hurry up before I regret my decision."

Mammon's eyes were wide; he smirked before quickly hugging Lucifer from behind. He felt himself getting lifted off, and it reminded him of the old times, back in the Celestial Realm.

Lucifer doesn't mind; he also missed this. But not like he's going to say this out loud.

I should start spending time with my little brothers whenever I'm free. That would be nice.

[ssa-steverogers]

𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨

pairing ╏ aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count ╏ 2.4k

summary ╏ a couple years have passed, and aaron and reader begin to question their status; inspired by two ghosts by harry styles

warnings ╏ none (?) please tell me if i missed anything x

note ╏ guys. i haven't written fanfics for like three years!1!!1!1! so i apologize in advance for any mistakes and grammar errors! i do hope you enjoy though! and also for the sake of the fic, jack and haley don't exist sorry guys lol and the ending is kind of bonk bonk but leave a like, comment, or reblog if you want! <3

I couldn’t pick up the phone. I sat back on the chair in the apartment we bought a couple years ago. But it tasted bittersweet just thinking about it; something I was supposed to cherish but couldn’t. The two plates of food on the table were now dull. What was once smoking and bled with heat was now encrusted in a dry film; unappetizing.

The phone continued to ring. Once. Twice. A pause. Once. Twice. Three times. But after the eleventh call, I figured he stopped. Aaron had forgotten his key that morning. It's almost humorous how he could tell the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath in his sleep but forgot the simplest things like our house key. And our fifth anniversary.

Earlier today, I had asked Aaron to go home early. But even after five years of marriage, eight of living together, and ten of dating, he couldn’t seem to care less of my whereabouts lately. Distracted, distant, and rigid.

“Hotch,” I swung into his dimly lit office earlier that day, “I'm going to be headed home early tonight. I-“

“Alright, see you at home,” Aaron continued writing his paperwork and took half a second to glance up at me. It’s unclear if he meant to cut me off or not but it didn’t matter because it would’ve hurt either way. Distant, I thought. A quick look at his office and nothing would’ve seemed different but I thought I saw more clutter than usual.

“Okay, well... I’ll see you tonight. Don’t be late!” I tried to look past it, for now. I blew a kiss his way and he looked up to smile at me briefly. The smile reached his eyes but I couldn't tell if it was genuine. His pen didn’t stop writing. Distracted, I thought. “Bye, I love you,” I breathed out and quickly shut the door, walking out to gather my stuff. I didn’t wait for his reply; unsure if he even had one. I wondered what he’d say. And if it’d hurt more than what his words didn’t say.

Looking at my watch on the way to my desk, it was half past four and it was clear to say that no one was done with paperwork yet.

“Where are you going?” Spencer questions, catching Emily’s attention. She looks up from her pile of work as well.

“Well, things to do and places to be,” I smiled at the two, putting my tablet into my bag. I grabbed my gun from my drawer and put it to my holster. Emily smiled knowingly. She knew it was me and Aaron’s fifth anniversary. Emily even helped pick out the perfect outfit for tonight’s homemade dinner. She also knew about Aaron’s behavior lately. We both thought of it and we discussed every scenario except the worst one yet. He wouldn’t do that to me, I would think to myself, not after what Haley did to him. It was the unspoken what if that I wasn't ready to swallow yet.

Emily and Spencer waved me goodbye and she wished me good luck, along with a smile that was poisoned in pity. I was almost entirely sure it wasn’t on purpose but I wasn’t sure of anything at that point. I walked out the door, into the elevator, and it felt so repetitive. The same elevator every day, the same building every day, living the same life every single day. I’d casually mention to Aaron how the repetition felt like a lot sometimes over paperwork in our office at home and he’d hum quietly. Maybe in agreement. We both loved our job. The same thing every time; but we were saving lives. Maybe it was the effect of his changed behavior. Maybe he felt it because he thought my behavior changed as well.

The same thing every time; coming home separately, even though we used to come back together. We were drifting and although it wasn’t the first time, we always resolved it. Things happen and we’d come out stronger and I had never had a doubt. Sometimes the job was hard and I was there for him, and he was there for me but it was different this time. He'd come home late and I'd be asleep by the time he got back. Then, I started to do paperwork at the local coffee shop and he’d be sitting in our office, waiting for me to get back.

No words would be exchanged once we were together for the night. Maybe a ‘hey’ or ‘how was your day?’ and then a simple ‘good.’ We’d both change our clothes and get into the bed. We were getting further and further away every night in bed. Too exhausted to think of words for this odd place we were in. Sometimes he'd hug me and take a deep breath and I'd release a breath I didn't know I was holding. Something was just not working this time. Trust your gut, Aaron used to say to me when I first joined the BAU. My gut told me that this couldn’t keep on going at the rate this seemed to be deteriorating.

All these moments led to right now. The phone rings beside me as Aaron waits outside in the drizzling rain at eight o’clock, without the key that he forgot this morning. I unlocked my phone to read the messages exchanged earlier tonight.

today 7:40

y/n: hey aaron are you still at the office?

love: Yes, is there something going on?

y/n: aaron

love: Yes?

y/n: oh you forgot, didn’t you?

love: Forgot?

y/n: aaron, it’s our anniversary?

read 7:46

I purse my lips and wonder if he still loves me. Of course, he does, my mind wanders, would he have been with you for ten years if he didn’t? I chuckle sadly. The food on the table now cold, the outfit Emily and I chose doesn’t seem so perfect anymore. The candles on the tables nearly half melted. The dining room looked eerie now, sitting by myself on a Thursday night with two uneaten plates of food with candles nearly burnt out.

That’s when I hear him knocking on the door gently.

“Y/N? Please let me in. I didn't forget, I just,” Aaron’s sigh is muffled by the door but I hear it clear as day when I get out of my seat and walk up to the door. I think he hears me walking to the front and continues. “I was distracted. Something isn’t right between us right now and we should talk about it. I’m sorry, Y/N, please let me in so we can talk.” I sigh in defeat and unlock the door, slowly. The door opens and his hair is flat from the rain, briefcase tucked under his arm with his phone in the other hand. But his posture isn’t as upright as it usually is – he probably knows he fucked up. I wonder if he’s been profiling me from my texts, or my current body language even though we promised we wouldn’t do that to each other.

He walks through the threshold of this house but his eyes don’t waver from mine as he sets his stuff down and puts his gun away in the drawer. A glimmer of his keys reflects the light in the drawer. It’s almost funny, how he remembers his gun but not his keys even though they were in the exact same place. It makes me wonder about the integrity of our situation and if he had left the keys on purpose.

I walk to the dining table with the food I made and turn away from Aaron. I’m not sure about what to say. I've obviously been avoiding this conversation for quite some time and even after all this procrastination; I still don’t even know what to say. I hear Aaron's footsteps from behind me and I wait to see if he has anything to say. After I'm sure that he doesn’t, I begin.

“Aaron,” I turn around to face him. I smile grimly, feeling tears prickle at the back of my eyes and it hurts to swallow, “What the hell happened to us?” Aaron stands there, arms crossed and a hand on his chin. Crossing arms suggests closing yourself off and is a gesture of defensiveness. “What happened to our Thursday night dates? Aaron- I don’t- I mean,” I struggle to complete a sentence when millions of thoughts are racing through my head, “I know you’re not happy. Sure, maybe everyone thinks that you don’t show a lot of emotion but I know you and you have a tell for specific things. When was the last time we really talked about how we felt about us? C’mon, Aaron, who are we bullshitting? We weren’t communicating and you know that it’s one of the most important parts of a healthy relationship.”

“Why are you using past tense?” Aaron asks and he’s doing the face he only gives to people he thinks are suspicious.

“What are you talking about? And why are you giving me that face?” I pause and Aaron tries to cut in but I get to it first. I make a face and pull my eyebrows together. “Are you profiling me right now?”

Aaron looks taken aback at my comment. “Are you?” Oh. When I don’t say anything he continues, “You’re using past tense when you mention our… marriage and relationship. If you have anything you want to say you should say it now. There really isn’t a better time,” His voice grows cold on me, the same way he does to unsubs we interrogate. I don’t think the ice in his tone is intentional but he probably can’t help it. He’s right though, should I confirm my suspicions? I don’t want to hear his answer to my question in fear that it might be the wrong one. But he is right, this conversation is long overdue.

“Are you cheating on me?” I breathe out at once. “Are you?” The tears are getting harder and harder to hold back and time seems to move slower by the second.

“Y/N, what? No, I'm not! Why would you think that? I could never do that to you. You know about Haley and how she cheated! And you think I'd do that to you?”

“You were just distant lately and-“

“Distant?” He pauses, I know he wouldn’t interrupt me if not necessary so I let him go on, “Y/N, so are you. I didn't think you were cheating. I thought you needed time and that I needed mine. I had thought about what you had said a couple weeks ago about how repetitive life felt.” I nodded at his words. “You’re not the only one who thinks that.” A pang of guilt radiates in my chest, because I think we both know how this was going to end.

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” I walk a little closer to him and cradle his face in my hands. He rubs circles on my wrists, caressing me and I do the same to his face. Tears are spilling from my eyes, down my cheeks, “Aaron Hotchner, I love you more than anything in this whole entire fucking world. I know you love me and that I love you but you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life and we both know what’s coming. It’s been unspoken for too long, I know that. But whatever happens, you have to know that I love you. We had our good days,” I look around to see picture frames on the walls of our relationship in earlier stages. Smiling, dancing, laughing. I remember each and every one of the pictures and thinking that this would be the man I would love for the rest of my days. “And we had bad days. There will never come a day that I forget all the wonderful things that we had. I’m using past tense now because I think-“

“I think you’re right,” Aaron quietly cuts me off. “We’re not the people we used to be. We’ve changed but we can’t grow like this. I love you too, more than words will ever be able to encompass but maybe we’re feeling stuck, not bored or repetitive.” I want to say something for the hell of being a couple for probably the last moments but I don’t want to stray far from the truth. Aaron’s eyebrows turn downwards a bit and his eyes are glimmering with tears. He envelopes my body in his and leaves a quiet kiss on my hairline.

I take a deep breath of air, trying to savor this moment for the rest of my life. My face is wet from tears and they won’t stop falling. I hiccup from the crying in his grasp so he plays with my hair fondly and almost inaudibly hums to me.

“Will we be okay? I mean,” A hiccup, or three. “I don’t want either of us to leave the BAU because of this but also will we be okay? In terms of feelings and… well, more feelings.”

“Of course,” Aaron begins. “I don’t love you any less but we both agree that things will be better this way. We just... go back to how it used to be before you asked me to a drink for the first time,” I can feel his small grin as he leans against my head. Being reminded of that day hurts now, but it has for a while anyway. I wonder if I hadn’t asked him to that drink one night after a local case, if we’d be where we are now. But I know everything here was nothing less than fate itself and that I probably shouldn’t dwell on what if’s.

And so after some moments of silence for something that would soon be gone, we stand underneath the dim lights of the dining room. Aaron holds me against his chest as we look at the candles on the table. They’re both burnt out. There’s no light there anymore. The candle has melted onto the chamberstick, leaving long trails of wax.

I hold him a little tighter and he does the same to me. I don’t know what the future holds but our two halves have drifted too far to come back together and that’s okay. I know things will be weird for a while but it’ll be okay.

“It’ll be okay,” I whisper under my breath. For the sake of us, we'd leave it here. Once upon a time, we were younger and more naive, better for each other then. But we're older now and we're stuck. Just two ghosts standing in the place of him and me.

[nct-jungjaehyun]

broken promises and long distance with jung jaehyun

this came out a long longer than i expected but i hopeyou love it nonetheless! please check out my pinned post if you can, it would mean a lot. happy reading with jung jaehyun.

the calendar stared back at you in disappointment. january 19th. it felt like just yesterday when you first brushed your hands on this leather sofa and promised yourself that you would tell him everything.

after boyfriend!jaehyun’s long pleads and whines, you finally stepped away from the states and came back into his arms. you graduated from college last year during late may, but you created a handful of excuses to lengthen your stay there. 

jaehyun did not mind waiting. he had been waiting for 14 years, what was a little more time? most of all, he was determined that time was not his enemy, distance was. friends and family warned him that your heart might stray, but he remained unmoved by his own heart. even when you had posted a picture of yourself being piggybacked by another man while posing on the top of the mountains, he never brought it up in your text messages. he never showed a hint of jealousy. while he never doubted your love for him, he was filled with constant fear that he would chase you away. whether he was on stage or filming a variety show, he made sure to keep his distance from all females and earned himself the title as the idol who cannot flirt for his life. however, his text messages with you tell a different story. his text bubbles would all fall under the category of lovey-dovey. the batches of cringey voice messages he delivered every week still sat unopened on your end.

you, on the other hand, returned his packages of text messages with lesser words as the months slipped by. for a college student as busy as you, a simple ‘okay’ seemed more than sufficient. you always wondered how jaehyun had endless time on his hands to send you paragraphs of text, some felt longer than the english assignments you were given.

before you went to the states, your entire world knew about jaehyun’s feelings for you. jaehyun’s world was much bigger, incomparably bigger. he had his fans to worry about and his members to stress for. you felt like a speck of dust in his life. the constant reminder from your parents that jaehyun will be the ultimate husband lost its meaning somewhere in between. 

moving to the states meant that a whole new planet will be added into your life. it was fascinating, all the people and places. at first, your motivation behind your english major was jaehyun. you wanted to communicate with him on another level, as well as to impress his members and fans if they were to ever find out about your relationship. during your second year in college, you considered giving up on your studies. the hundreds and thousands of dollars that jaehyun had poured from his own wallet to support you in college would have gone to waste. the guilt was enough to keep you up at night, questioning everything that you were doing. what were you going to do with this knowledge? you were staying up night after night to rush papers that lacked passion and energy. like a ghost, you floated through the crowded halls and sat through classes as an invisible. eating and sleeping turned into things that required immense effort. jaehyun sent his support not only financially, but also spiritually: “don’t forget to eat breakfast!” or “sleep tight!” in the end, you failed to meet his expectations. 

the wobbly tower you tried so hard to keep upright collapsed. a classmate took you to the hospital when you fainted at the library one day. he stayed at your bedside until the nurses informed him that you were replenished with all the nutrients and vitamins your frail body desperately craved for. it was not a long process, but the nightmares and loneliness the first few nights were unbearable. that is until he began coming by after class every day to tend to you. he was different from jaehyun. he was younger, but he carried a sense of maturity and sophistication that other men around you failed to demonstrate. unlike the other man across the world performing his heart out for his audience, this man on your bedside was willing to hold your hand and be the first person you see when you open your eyes. 

on the day of your graduation, you gave jaehyun another chance to grasp the tiny bit of hope to spark your relationship again. the first chance was at the hospital. you told yourself that you would clench your teeth and fight through the rest of college if he can show up right then. sure, a figure walked through and, we already know, it was your classmate, not jaehyun.

graduation day. you stared at the mirror and took a deep breath. “jung jaehyun,” you said, at the image of him pulled up on your phone, “be here for me and i promise i will be there for you for the rest of our lives.”

you waited and waited. they called your name and from the podium your eyes squinted into the sea of proud family and relatives of the class of 2020. sitting in your designated seat for valedictorians, you twist your back to search for him. again, nowhere to be found.

you called him the moment that the ceremony was over, hoping that you had simply missed him in the crowd and he was lingering somewhere on the grassy field with your parents.

the call went to voicemail. maybe his phone was on silent. you called again. nothing. the monotone voice that instructed you to call again played back quicker this time.

out of nowhere a hug engulfed you from the back. you broke out into a huge smile, realizing that jaehyun was still the same romantic and cheesy boy you knew best. 

you were wrong. 

turning around, the one who had hugged you was your classmate. in his arm, the object that spiked your back, was a bouquet of flowers. they were crysanthemums, your favorite. “congratulations,” he said, his cheeks blushing a strong pink, “i’m very proud of you.” it surprised you when he leaned down to kiss you on the cheek, but you did not dodge from it. it was sweet and charming of him.

today is january 19th and it was time to tell jaehyun everything. 

right on schedule, you see him coming through the main entrance of the sm building. he patted your head and asked, “hey, why did you want to meet me here?”

“it’s been a month since i came back and you’re already tired of me?” you laughed.

he shook his head, laughing with you, and invited you to the practice room. “the members are out shopping together. we have the practice room to ourselves.”

it always felt stifling to be around him. jaehyun was a delight, but sneaking around like criminals just to talk was not.

walking up to the practice room, where a plaque with the words NCT were engraved on it, felt like a blur. your heart was pounding and your legs somehow found it difficult to walk on flat ground. walking with him was not that bad if you compared it with what came after. the both of you broke out into an all out fight.

“what do you mean you found someone else? i waited so long for you to come back!” he shouted, arms flailing.

you flinched at the volume of his voice. you can not remember the last time that he raised his voice at you. “jaehyun, we were never really a thing. normal things that normal couples do, we never did any of those. you know that. we promised each other that we were going to get married when i finished college, but deep down we both knew that wasn’t gonna happen.”

“i don’t know about you, but i believed it was going to happen. why are you giving up on us so easily?”

“you’re telling me that you will be willing to let our relationship destroy your reputation and threaten your career? do it right now and we’ll get married.”

you left him speechless. it never occurred to him that he would have to choose. he felt that it would just happen, that he will have both. you and his career.

“when i was in the hospital-” you started.

“when were you in the hospital?” he interrupted, rushing forward to hold your arm. his eyes glanced down once, as if making sure he did not miss a broken limb.

“i forgot to eat my meals and i stayed up to finish work. no one was there to take care of me. i don’t blame you for that, but i silently wished, i wished hard, that you would show up. if you did, i was willing to give up everything, just to be by your side.”

“if i showed up...” jaehyun wondered how much this would have all changed if he would have listened to his heart. he missed you so much but when he thought about all the faces in the audience, he knew it wasn’t a decision for him to make. he had a responsibility to be a part of NCT. he assumed the love you two had for each other would be strong enough to withstand all of the obstacles.

“my graduation ceremony, where were you?” you questioned, although you already knew the answer. you surfed the web that night and realized that he had another ceremony to attend, an award ceremony. his group won best artist of the year.

when he didn’t answer, you answered for him, “congratulations on the award. i wasn’t sure if i should have mentioned it before...”

he took a step back, furthering the gap between the two of you. his eyes were growing teary and so were yours. “he was there... both times when i wasn’t?”

you nodded and stared at your feet as tears dripped onto your shoes.

that gap was restored when he leapt forward and gripped you tightly against his chest. he was sobbing now. ��i’m sorry. please don’t leave. we can fix this. we can fix- we can still- we still love each other, don’t we?”

you sniffed back your tears, “don’t do this, jaehyun. it’s time to let go. we wasted 14 years bounded by this obligation to love each other. we loved each other too much.”

the knives that stabbed into your heart felt like they were being pulled out. one by one. all the wounds were opening, vulnerable for bacteria to infect it.

he pulled away and turned around to wipe away all of his tears that strayed from the rest which had soaked into your shirt.

your phone rang from the pocket of your jeans. jaehyun tensed at the new ringtone. it used to be the tune of his song, try again. the new ringtone was unfamiliar to him, but it was a song that you heard often. it was a piano recording of your favorite song played by him.

“don’t pick up. we’re not over. you can’t do this to me. tell me, what did i do wrong?” jaehyun was getting desperate. you wanted your relationship to work out as much as he did, but the only person who can heal the wounds in your heart was not him, it was the person who was calling you right then.

you picked up the call and put his voice on speaker. i contrast, his voice was soft and assuring, “hey, i’m outside, are you ready? i can drive around the block if you need some more time.”

you smiled at his attentiveness. it felt as if the world was put on hold and only you and him existed—something you once felt with jaehyun. “i’ll be right there, two more minutes, okay?”

jaehyun’s strong breaths pulled you away from your phone call. you glanced at him for a moment before talking into the phone, “hey, i’m really hungry, can we go to my favorite restaurant for dinner?”

you can see his smile despite not seeing him in person, “i already made a reservation, love. i also got you your favorite flowers, crysanthemums.”

“i’ll see you soon, alright? bye,” you ended.

“bye,” a barely audible kiss sound came from the phone before you tapped end call.

jaehyun did not hesitate to pick at your boyfriend’s words like a lawyer, “your favorite restaurant is not open today. your favorite flowers are roses. he doesn’t even know you.”

you sighed and grinned at him, trying your best not to look apologetic, because there was no need for apologies. “my favorite restaurant changed. it’s a new name that originated from the states. i never liked roses. your favorite are roses. i was never fond of the color red.

“things change, jaehyun, our hobbies, our favorite foods. these are all feelings. don’t ignore these feelings. right now, i only have feelings for him.” you raised your phone towards jaehyun at your last word, reminding him that the person you grew a newfound love for is real.

lifting the necklace from underneath your shirt, you twirled the ring that looped on the rope. “he gave me this promise ring. he has one, too. it’s a commitment. we’re both going to keep this promise.”

with that said, you turned away and headed for the door.

you paused after two steps, without turning around, you added, “be happy, jaehyun. find someone who will keep your promise and make sure to put them on top of all of your other commitments. i’ll pay you back all the money bit by bit. it’ll work out somehow.”

you heard a loud thump on the floor. it must be jaehyun. a part of you wanted to go back and comfort him, but going back would mean never moving forward.

the one outside waiting for you was willing to move forward with you. he inspired you to use your english major for private tutoring and perhaps someday write a book. 

holding your head high, you took a deep breath. you were glad to finally put jaehyun behind you. 

you did not want to dream of the future anymore, but one thing that you knew for sure: don’t lose sight of the one you have right now and love him with your whole heart.

[grapefruitsketches]

Untamed Spring Fest 2020 - Days 18 & 19: Breath & Journey

Part of my Songxiao post-canon fix-it fic series (this is the “SL Prequel”):

XXC Prequel | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Also available AO3: link

5,540 Words

Songxiao, happy ending (for both of them), canon-compliant, post-canon, hurt/comfort, mentions of canonical major character deaths, 

As promised, here is my companion piece to my Day 6: Breeze contribution  (though either can be read as a standalone). See the XXC piece at the “XXC Prequel” link above. 

-

Roam this world with Shuanghua, exorcise evil beings alongside Xingchen.

Song Lan had been doing exactly that since he had regained consciousness in Yi City. He drifted from town to town, feeling like he had more in common with the ghosts he was there to disperse rather than the hero the villagers seemed to think he was.

The spirit bag dangled at his side, weightless, lifeless, but he never for a moment forgot its presence. It was everything. He hardly touched Shuanghua, though, feeling guilty for the comfort its companionship brought him. He tried to make up for his partner’s absence - he moved constantly, always looking for the next sign of trouble he could help solve. Fighting became mechanical. Sometimes he felt that the only difference between his day to day life now from his life as a puppet was his choice of target.

Shuanghua had begun to weigh on him. The first time he’d noticed had been after a particularly grueling night hunt, four months into his travels. He had assumed that he had simply been tired, but when he woke up the next day, and had trouble just lifting the sword onto his back as he did each morning, he was knew it must be something else. He tried to figure out what Shuanghua wanted. He used it on a few night hunts, wondering if it was bored. Shuanghua only grew heavier, if anything, after these hunts, and after a few near misses where a parry or attack had failed because of the unusual weight of the sword, he abandoned this theory. All he had accomplished was a feeling of shamelessness in using another cultivator’s sword, especially the one belonging to the man he had wronged so deeply.

He knew he might find an answer if he visited one of the towns governed by a major clan. There were swordsmiths there, ones who seemed to understand the swords they made more intimately than even the cultivators who carried them. He decided that it was not worth the journey, though. Not only was there a chance that an ordinary swordsmith wouldn’t have the skills to evaluate the sword of one of Baoshan Sanren’s disciples, but Song Lan also preferred to avoid major cultivator cities if possible. There was too much risk he would be recognized, that Shuanghua would be recognized, that even if he weren’t recognized, that there would be questions about why a cultivator would carry two swords. Song Lan had never liked being pestered with question, but now that every word would have to be painstakingly carved out in the ground or written on paper, and every answer inevitably something too painful to relive, it would be far worse.

So the sword grew heavier, and Song Lan treated the sword’s moods as an unfortunate but unchangeable fact of his current life.

One day as he was making his way from one small village in Yiling to another, a voice he recognized called out to him.

“M-master Song!”

Sighing, he turned around to face the person who had finally found him after two years of successful avoidance.

Long black robe, disheveled hair hanging loose, and, most tellingly, black veins creeping up his neck. Wen Ning waved and jogged lightly, stopping in a bow just in front of Song Lan. Song Lan bowed instinctively in response, grateful as ever for the automated etiquette he could lean on as he tried to restart the part of his mind that knew how to act around someone from the clans. The manners, he could handle. But Xing-, …others had usually been better than him at resisting provocation if the conversation turned somewhere unpleasant. Though perhaps, he thought wryly to himself, it might be easier to get through these conversations without what Master once called “my sharp tongue.”

The Ghost General smiled, “Strange to meet here, isn’t it?”

Song Lan nodded.

Song Lan remembered being briefly introduced to Wen Ning at the Yiling Supervisory Office, so many years ago. He’d been disoriented, his sight damaged but recovering. He also, vaguely, remembered fighting him in Yi City. But Song Lan had not had a chance or really the will, at that time, to speak with the man, besides to offer a quick bow as an apology for the fight, which Wen Ning had politely returned. The Ghost General was a name he’d heard often in the last two years though. Few villagers knew Wen Ning’s face or even his birth or courtesy name, but almost every town had their own version of the Ghost General - who in one town would be said to come to take children who did not finish their vegetables, and in another, it was an omen of foreboding for any upcoming weddings if someone heard the rattling chains of the Ghost General nearby.

None of the stories matched the pleasant, unassuming man before him.

“I was just passing through. Y-you were too?” Wen Ning asked.

Again, Song Lan nodded.

“Ah.” Wen Ning smiled and shuffled a bit, “I… I heard that I might find you here. Everyone you’ve helped… It’s very impressive!”

Song Lan only smiled and nodded gratefully, wondering briefly if Wen Ning was deliberately keeping his questions to need simple yes or no answers. He did want to ask, though, why Wen Ning sounded like he had been looking for him.

They walked together in silence a while, Song Lan not wanting to pull out Fuxue to keep the conversation going. It was one of those days where Shuanghua was acting up more than usual. Alone, Song Lan had felt free to walk slowly to compensate. Alongside Wen Ning, he hadn’t wanted to show such a weakness, so he tried to keep pace. The weight seemed to grow with every step he took. Soon, it had grown to a point where he would either have to stop, or, more shamefully, collapse on the path under Shuanghua’s weight. The former option sounded slightly more appealing.

Song Lan veered off the path and leaned against a tree, catching his breath but keeping his face passive. He gently took Shuanghua off and laid it gently against the trunk.

Wen Ning quickly realized that he had lost his walking companion and turned to look quizzically, first at Song Lan, then, eyes widening, at Shuanghua leaning on the tree, even while Fuxue was still strapped comfortably to the cultivator’s back.

“Master Song!” Wen Ning cried, hurrying over, “Are you ok?”

Song Lan nodded, but knew his heavy breathing gave him away. He closed his eyes, hoping he might be lucky enough that Wen Ning would take this to be a perfectly normal nap, with no further questions.

Wen Ning frowned, “… I know we… we’re not friends.” Wen Ning’s head leaned one way, then another as he considered each word, “We don’t really know each other… but…” he sighed, “what happened in Yi City,” Wen Ning’s eyes widened as Song Lan flinched at the words, “Sorry, I just mean, well.” He breathed deeply, “This is obvious to everyone else but I think you might need to hear it. It… it wasn’t your fault.”

Song Lan’s eyes snapped open to look at Wen Ning, brows furrowed. Of course he didn’t blame himself, of course he knew that that man… that monster had been truly responsible. But that didn’t mean he denied his responsibility for his role in what had happened to his cultivation partner. If not for his cruel words, Xingchen wouldn’t have been there in the first place. If not for Song Lan’s incompetent interference, Xingchen might have continued as he was, tricked, but alive and happy even if in ignorance. Song Lan reached for Fuxue, suddenly not feeling so burdened by the prospect of writing in the dirt.

What wasn’t?

Wen Ning smiled. “I don’t know, Master Song, but I think you do.”

Song Lan huffed in frustration, adding next to his first message, He was alone and blind because of me.

“Was he?” Wen Ning asked gently, meeting Song Lan’s eyes.

I sent him away. He saved me. Song Lan’s eyes had started to tear up as he wrote, I couldn’t even manage to warn him without getting him, Song Lan couldn’t bring himself to write what had happened to Xingchen after all the love and kindness he had put out into the world, had given to Song Lan.

He remembered the moment he had rounded that corner in Yi City, A-Qing by his side. His eyes had, of course, first landed on Xiao Xingchen. His smile. His laughter. The comfortable life he seemed to be living without Song Lan by his side. He had almost turned and walked away there, willing to set aside his own feelings if Xiao Xingchen was happy. If Song Lan had lost him and Xingchen had moved on without feeling that he had lost Song Lan, maybe that was the most just outcome. But then he realized that there was also something familiar about the second voice coming from those steps. With some difficulty, he pulled his eyes away from the beautiful man he’d once had the honour of sharing every day with, the moon to Song Lan’s cold winter nights. And had felt a jolt like a stab to the chest as he recognized the figure sitting beside Xingchen. In that moment of realization, everything had changed.

Xiao Xingchen had been lured right into a trap, one that couldn’t have worked if Song Lan hadn’t abandoned him, leaving him to walk alone when he could most use a trusted partner by his side.

And newly armed with the knowledge of how bad the situation was, Song Lan had made every wrong move in the moments that followed.

By now, the tears were flowing freely. Wen Ning awkwardly pet him on the back.

“I used to blame myself for my family and sister’s deaths.” Wen Ning said quietly.

Song Lan looked to him in confusion. He had heard many stories about Wen Ning, ones he believed and ones he hadn’t, but despite all the fightening tales of the Ghost General, despite the excited whispers he had overheard years ago when he travelled with XIngchen about the grisly fates of the remaining Wen clan members, he’d never heard a story that cast the Ghost General as the executioner.

“She was always protecting me, always fixing my mistakes.” Wen Ning smiled sadly, “She thought that if we both turned ourselves in, that that would protect our family. But instead, I survived, she died, and no one even paused before attacking our family.” Wen Ning sighed, “I used to wonder if it would have been better if I had gone to Lanling alone. If Master Wei and Jiejie hadn’t protected me, saved me until then, they probably wouldn’t have died. She was so strong,” a tear fell from Wen Ning’s eye even as he smiled at the thought of his sister, “If she hadn’t come with me, hadn’t tried to make up for what I’d done, maybe she could have protected the rest of our family and they would all still be alive today.”

Song Lan was shaken. He remembered Wen Qing, too, from his days in recovery. She had been gentle, but stern. He had no doubt she was as strong as Wen Ning described. He had also heard talk, not too long ago, that it was now common knowledge that Wen Ning had not been in control when he had killed the Jin heir. That Wen Ning blamed himself for his sister’s fate… Wen Qing had not struck Song Lan as someone who would step back as other people stepped up. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where she would simply bid her brother farewell and watch him face the consequences for actions he couldn’t have prevented.

“I-I think she blamed herself, that she thought I was her responsibility, so if I did something wrong or something bad happened to me, it was because of her,” Wen Ning said, “I should have known that the consequences for anything I did would end up on her.”

Song Lan carved harshly into the dirt, the cuts so deep and so large it might take several rainfalls before they disappeared completely NOT YOUR FAULT.

Wen Ning looked at the marks, and smiled, “I know that now. It took me a long time, but I know others will make choices that you don’t like that you can’t control sometimes, will try to protect you from the world as if you can’t be trusted to make your own choices.” He looked hard into Song Lan’s eyes, “Do you understand?”

You and Xingchen didn’t do anything wrong.

Wen Ning nodded, then gently added, “And neither did my sister. And neither did you. It’s good to try and protect people you care about but…” Wen Ning paused as though searching for the words, “but you shouldn’t blame yourself just because they end up in trouble, even if you think there was a way you could have prevented it.”

Song Lan let his back slide down the tree, collapsing on the ground, unsure if it was the aftereffects of carrying Shuanghua, this conversation, or simply the amount of spiritual energy he had put into those last few lines but he was exhausted all of the sudden. He gripped the bag dangling from his hip, detaching it and pulling it to his chest. It still felt empty, but it brought him some comfort.

He had one more question, though, Why are you here? He wrote, tracing the characters with his finger in the soft dirt, not wanting to lift Fuxue again.

“Oh, yes! I have a message from Master Wei.” Wen Ning said, clearing his throat, “He said to find you and tell you…” Wen Ning worked his way methodically through the sentence, and Song Lan was confident that this was almost word for word what Wei Wuxian had told him to say, “to tell you that he has a theory for something that might work for Master Xiao.”

Any drowsiness forgotten, Song Lan scrambled to his feet, his sudden grip of Wen Ning’s shoulder making his meaning clear enough without the need for any more writing.

Wen Ning nodded, confirming that Song Lan had heard correctly, “He said that once you’re your spirits are healed, you should come see him in the Cloud Recesses, and he can try something. He said he couldn’t know if it would work,” Wen Ning shrugged, “but I don’t think he was sure about me either.”

Now Song Lan did reach for his sword, How do I heal Xingchen’s spirit? He wrote, clutching the spirit bag firmly to his heart as he did so.

Wen Ning shook his head, “I’ve been trying to explain, I’m just not very good at it,” he breathed out, “You can’t.”

The adrenaline, the hope that Song Lan had so eagerly grabbed on to evaporated. He felt like he might faint. If Wen Ning was anyone else, Song Lan might have drawn his sword on him for this, but Wen Ning’s face was neutral. It did not tease, did not make light, this man did not seem like he had a malicious bone in him. A part of Song Lan wondered if that was why Wei Wuxian had chosen him to bring this message - to boast about his innovation, without risking Song Lan’s frustration with its insufficiency. But Wei Wuxian didn’t seem the type to do that either. So why bother telling him at all?

“He has to,” Wen Ning provided gently, “All you can do is try your best to work on healing yourself and support him if you can. Just like you’re already doing.”

Wen Ning pointed at his chest, at the spirit bag being hugged like a lifeline.

Healing myself? I am well.

Wen Ning tilted his head, looking Song Lan over, “I don’t know if you are. But I think you will be.” Wen Ning continued, “You do remind me a bit of… of my sister. Always thinking of others. Always protecting others. And I’d like to think, if she were in your place, she would take a break, just for a little bit, and just… do what she wanted to do for herself.” Wen Ning smiled, “I don’t know if she ever had the chance to do that, but if you do, maybe I can believe she did too.”

Song Lan still looked skeptically at Wen Ning, reattaching the spirit bag to his side but not letting go.

“We’ve both been used as puppets. We, more than anyone, should know that there are sometimes things we do that we can’t be blamed for. And if there were one thing I could tell my sister if I had the chance, I would want her to know she was allowed to live her own life too, that the worst part of bad things happening to me was never what was happening to me, but was worrying about how she might hurt herself to fix it.”

The words resonated in Song Lan’s head as he processed them. He looked down to the spirit bag. If there was a chance - even a chance - that Xingchen could come back, he would do everything he could to be sure that Song Lan would be the person Xingchen needed, not just a guilt-ridden protector, but a true partner.

The two parted ways not long after that, Shuanghua mysteriously lighter when Song Lan picked it back up. Song Lan wondered whether his conversation with Wen Ning would have happened if the sword had not been so heavy before. It seems it might have encouraged him, coaxed him into having his first conversation about Yi City since his departure from that cursed place. Not forced, not threatened, just gently guided him into making a choice that ended up being right for him.

--

Song Lan had decided to make the long journey to the place where he and Xingchen had first met, a quiet town not far from Baixue Temple. He knew many of the people in the town, so any stranger was remarkable, but he had been especially curious as to why such a man would be buying enough food to serve a small banquet. He had followed Xingchen around a corner into a dark alley. Song Lan had hidden in the shadows and watched as the man had knocked on a door Song Lan had never noticed before. The door soon opened to the sounds of wailing children and a very tired looking woman. Song Lan hadn’t been close enough to hear the conversation, but he did see the food, all except a tiny portion, handed across the threshold to the thankful woman inside. Xingchen had smiled, his beautiful, heart-shattering smile, then turned to leave the way he came.

Song Lan had realized too late that there would be no way Xingchen would pass him without seeing him there, and leaving the alleyway at a run would be even more suspicious, so he had stepped out and greeted the man who would soon become the dearest person to him in the world.

“I saw what you did there. That was kind of you.”

Xingchen had simply smiled that gentle smile of his, held out the little food he had left and said, “Would you like some as well?”

Now, Song Lan passed by the same alleyway, the town, still so familiar, had had enough changes to make it feel a little uncanny. He wondered vaguely what had happened to all those children, who would by now (hopefully) be healthy, happy adults.

Before he fully realized what he was doing, he bought some food from the same stand Xingchen had visited all those years ago, from a man who looked like a carbon copy of the previous vendor, though with a rounder jaw. Song Lan followed the same path he had all those decades ago, found the little door, and knocked.

When the door opened, a man just as disheveled as the woman had been back then stood there, looking confused. Unable to speak, unwilling to write, and unsure how to put his reasons for being here into words, Song Lan simply bowed, handed the food to the bewildered but cautiously thankful man, and left. He laughed at himself - what a ridiculous thing to have done. This simple gesture - one without fighting, done without guilt, without a drive to do anything but the things he thought might make him happy, might make someone else happy, would remind him of his fondest memories, even though it might have left the man confused, left him glowing inside. He felt full though if he, unlike Xingchen, had forgotten to retain any of the food for himself. The warmth of the glow travelled from his heart and radiated outwards, a small smile formed on his face, and as he felt himself relax through the very ends of his fingers, Shuanghua lighter than ever. He felt a slight quiver at his side.

Eyes widening, he reached down and pulled the spirit pouch up to his face, peering closely at it. Was it… fuller than before? He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but something certainly felt different about the pouch. He held it close to his cheek, and as he did, felt a soft vibration in the cloth, no more noticeable than if a moth had flapped its wings inside, but definitely there.

Xingchen. Xingchen, I’ve got you. He wanted to say, And I know you’ve got me. He moved the pouch to his chest, hugging it tight, hoping the meaning might come through to whatever form his Xingchen took right now. I know we’ll get through this together.

--

A year passed, a year in which Song Lan learned more about himself than he had ever allowed before. He had grown restless after three months of walking through various places and memories, eager to get back to his work protecting the innocent wherever trouble arose.

Gradually, he felt lighter. He had learned he could take breaks, and was greatly rewarded when he did so. He felt Xingchen’s pouch shift and saw it glow more and more frequently and dramatically over time, most reliably whenever Song Lan paused to relax, to take in the little things. A patch of flowers at the side of the road. Children who played, laughing through markets. And, though this had taken the longest to prompt anything but a deep ache in his core, couples walking side by side, hand in hand, taking in the scenery but turning again and again back to each other.

He visited Wen Ning sometimes, to ask advice, to see how he was doing. It felt good to have someone who understood, a much needed anchor to this world while his world still fought to reassemble himself at his side. Besides, Wen Ning was training himself to carry on his clan’s legacy of healing, and Song Lan was not immune to the occasional need for medical attention, and no longer felt that healing needed to be put off until all the other work was done. Wen Ning was especially excited to discuss the books on mind healing he had found in some books he had found, hidden for years in Dafan Mountain.

Song Lan was sure that Xingchen was healing, but in the meantime, despite the glows and quivers of the spirit bag, Song Lan still felt very alone. He felt the loneliness less as time went on, as he allowed himself to spend more time celebrating victories with villagers, more time enjoying the world around him, more time reminding himself that he had friends still in this world. The loneliness could not be chased away, and though they had dampened, he still experienced pangs of guilt some mornings as he put Shuanghua onto his back, or brushed against the spirit pouch, or if his mind wandered to thoughts of Yi City, the one place he and Xingchen had both visited that he refused to return to. These feelings were still there, would never truly disappear, he thought, but as he took more time to pursue the paths he wanted to follow, to protect himself if he stumbled into dangerous situations, he began to feel, despite his loneliness, whole.

--

After another full year, one full of more joy than Song Lan remembered in the last 20 years since he had come home for his Master’s birthday, but a year not free of nights weeping over the sword and pouch he carried, not free of moments where he reviewed every detail of events from their first encounter with Xue Yang to Song Lan’s last moments with Xiao Xingchen and told himself all the things he should have done differently, all the moments that could have changed everything. But these moments grew more distant, shallower with time. Song Lan continued his visits with Wen Ning, who never failed to share some proud story about his nephew, who by Wen Ning’s account, was shaping up to be the top cultivator of his generation. Song Lan, in return, brought back the slowly shifting tales of the Ghost General he heard whispered through villages - that if you stood in a certain spot under a full moon, the Ghost General might enter your dreams, giving you advice sure to bring you good fortune. Song Lan had never revealed the source of these rumours, but he was sure Wen Ning had his suspicions. They had both been near dead, had both lost nearly everything, but were both managing, were both happy, even.

The one thing Song Lan wished for in the quiet hours, the thing he on some level had always known would come, even before he’d been told it was possible, came on a quiet night, a quiet night with a full moon, wind gentle on Song Lan’s face. He was sitting on a hill, alone, simply enjoying the feel of the breeze on his face, the spirit pouch sitting on his lap as it often did on such nights, when the pouch moved. It was not violent, not trembling. It seemed almost purposeful, the bag expanding, and in doing so, shifting closer to Song Lan’s hand, which rested on his thigh. On contact with his hand, the bag began to glow. Not the gentle flickering it had produced in the past, but a steady, yellow shine, strong and… and… healed.

All thoughts of a quiet night evaporated as Song Lan grunted in surprise, brought the bag to his chest and squeezed it tight, willing his love and support through as hard as he could. He touched Shuanghua, trying to communicate softly that the one they had been waiting for might be here soon.

He stood on Fuxue, and crossed valleys, mountains, towns, all the way to Gusu, far faster than he would have previously thought possible.

After flying nonstop all night, he arrived at the gates of the Cloud Recesses just as the guards were starting their duty for the day. The white and blue disciples blinked and exchanged a glance at the panting cultivator who had just landed on the steps, who had bowed politely, but urgently at each of them in turn. One of the guards opened his mouth to ask this unannounced guest who he was, but another, looking open-mouthed at the two very recognizable swords strapped to the man’s back, cut the first off.  

“Get Hanguang-Jun,” this second guard commanded, and the first nodded, setting off up the steps.

Hanguang-Jun was at the gates in a matter of minutes, his neutral, cold look melting into something softer when he caught sight of the unbreakable smile on Song Lan’s face.

“You are both ready.” Hanguang-Jun did not phrase it as a question, but Song Lan nodded anyway. Hanguang-Jun mirrored the nod in response, said, “Come,” and turned to walk back up the stairs. Song Lan obliged. He was hardly absorbing anything that was going on around him, focused more on the stirring spirit, the life, at his side to take in any of the serene beauty of the residence.

“Lan Zhaaan, what could be so urgent that I had to be up before 9?” Wei Wuxian’s voice rang loud and clear through the quiet of the Cloud Recesses as they reached the main residences.

Wei Wuxian had come out of a room rubbing his eyes. Song Lan vaguely noted that the room was called (in the state he was in, he only just prevented himself from laughing giddily at someone of Wei Wuxian’s temperament ever being in such a place) the Jingshi.

“Wei Ying.” Hanguang-Jun drew the other man’s attention to their visitor.

“Song Lan!” Wei Wuxian bounded over, all talk of exhaustion gone. He looked down at the pouch Song Lan still clutched to his chest, at its fullness, at its glow, and at Song Lan’s peaceful look of genuine happiness, of profound hope.

Wei Wuxian smiled. “I think this will work.”

It took some time to gather what they needed. Wen Ning was summoned to retrieve Xiao Xingchen’s body. Wei Wuxian prepared the necessary space and talismans, and also Song Lan, who, the Yiling Patriarch explained, was key to this whole process.

“It’s your eyes.” Wei Wuxian explained with a smile, “I can’t usually revive the dead after so long but then I realized… Xiao Xingchen still lives. By continuing to live and breathe, you kept his body alive and connected to this world while he worked on his soul.”

Within a week, they were ready. Song Lan had almost cried when Wen Ning had arrived carrying the limp body of the man thought about so often during the years, but refused to visit precisely because he didn’t want to see him like this. They laid Xiao Xingchen’s body on a bed in a guest room.

Song Lan knelt by the bed and opened the bag that had been by his side all this time. He was only faintly aware of the flute and guqin music playing in the background. As instructed, Song Lan looked into the bag, then slowly drew his gaze from the soft, beautiful glow, to the equally beautiful but horrifyingly still form on the bed. The glow followed along the path of his gaze as if pulled along by a string. The spirit entered Xingchen’s chest.

Silence, but for the flute and guqin music.

Song Lan’s heart seized, the last week’s high yielding to a sudden fear - what if, after all this, this didn’t work? It was only experimental. Wei Wuxian had never done this before. No one had ever done this before. He knew he would live even if this failed, but that almost made it worse. What if…

A finger twitched. Hands moved.

Song Lan’s eyes widened. He had never missed his tongue more. He wanted to be able to say something to Xingchen. To tell him he was there. That they were together, had been all this time, but now could finally touch and share in each other’s worlds again, be truly home again. He ended up communicating all this the only way he knew how, by throwing himself over the stirring white robed man and sobbing.

Xingchen’s mouth opened and let out a breath, held for 20 years, carrying with it two gentle syllables, “Zichen.” His chest rose and fell. Two pink spots grew on the clean white cloth covering the place where the eyes now living in Song Lan’s head had once been. Red began to drip down the sides of Xingchen’s face. His arm reached up, towards Song Lan. One arm, then the other, found the man who had remembered him, carried him, loved him, for so long. “Zichen” the newly revived man repeated. The music stopped, and Song Lan understood that the other two, who understood what this moment meant probably better than anyone, had given them the time and space they so desperately wanted.

Song Lan’s heart swelled at the sound of his name, at the name he had refused to even introduce himself with since he had left the side of the man who said it best. He held the other man closer, a person not just a spirit but a full person, gloriously alive, healthy, and happy in his arms. That they were both so complete, that they had both struggled to get to this point through their own efforts, that they had each done so with but not relying on the other’s support, only made their reunion that much sweeter. They were not two halves making one whole, but two wholes making a loving pair.

They could not stay there forever. That was for certain. And until they figured something else out, Song Lan couldn’t say the things he wanted to say unless they brought someone into this space to interpret. But for now, being here with Xingchen in his arms, that didn’t matter. For now, each other’s touch, their embrace, their tears, said everything that needed to be said. For now, every moment together, every breath together, felt like a new forever they would protect together.

Next: Chapter 1 of my post-Songxiao reunion fic

[destination-despairing]

if anyone wants to see that snippet I wrote last night for a project I’m currently calling “Shuichi Saihara and the Ghost of Hope’s Peak” here ya go, I’m gonna go try to focus on my current wips for now but I would kinda like to neaten this up and continue it

“So, have you guys seen the ghost yet?”

It was a question going around campus, spreading like a virus. Everyone was talking about the ghost, the strange figure seen in the windows of empty classrooms, out of the corner of your eye, lurking on the grounds after dark. 

“Fuck off, the ghost isn’t really,” one student laughed, pushing his friend.

“It totally is! People have been seeing her for years!” his friend insisted. “I heard she’s a reserve course student who committed suicide.”

“You’re wrong, she’s a teacher who died in that fire.”

“I thought she was the Ultimate Psychic and she’s still trying to get a message through that there is an afterlife.”

“You’re all wrong.”

The students all turned to the quiet kid in the corner, sitting and scribbling away in a small notebook, a hat covering most of his face. 

“What’s that?” one of the others asked. “Wrong?”

“It’s not a woman-” he began to explain.

“What? She’s got long hair!”

“Lots of people can have long hair.” he tugged his hat down a little at the loud voices. “But it’s a man. About twenty-two to twenty-five at most, and he’s not a ghost. He’s a person, he leaves footprints a-and fingerprints.”

He had a piece of tape in that notebook where he’d collected those fingerprints, traced over them to keep them from smudging. 

“... yeah, okay,” one of the others snorted and rolled their eyes. “Guess Virgin Holmes here has all the info.” 

His cheeks turned red at the laughter. They didn’t all laugh, one of them even elbowed the offending girl and gave her a stern look, but just a little bit of laughter was enough to make him want to disappear. 

“Like you can…” he muttered to his sketch of the ‘ghost.’

That night as he was heading home he saw him again, standing by the fountain and staring into the water. It was the boldest he’d ever been in showing himself, but he had the ability to vanish so quickly it really was just pure luck he was seen.

He gasped, and moved to hide behind a bush. That small sound alone was enough to make the ghost lift his head, and look around. The student held his breath, and tried to take a small step to the side to better conceal himself.

He turned and found himself face to face, inches away, from the ghost.

“What are you doing?” the ghost asked, tilting his head. 

The student yelped and jumped back in surprise, dropping his journal which fell open on the cobblestones. The ghost snatched it up and started leafing through it. 

“... you are following me,” he remarked.

“Investigating you,” the student corrected, standing and dusting himself off. “I… s-sorry.”

“You have a lot. A lot more than others ever found.” The ghost sounded… impressed? But above all that he sounded… tired. Monotone. 

Bored.

“I wanted to know what you were doing here,” the student said. “No one ever sees you during the day, you don’t teach or attend classes, I… can I ask you who you are?”

The ghost tilted his head again, and shrugged. “I am Izuru Kamukura.”

“The school’s founder?” the student asked, confused and doubtful.

“No.”

“So… it’s a coincidence? 

“No.”

“You’re not being very helpful,” the student sighed.

“... ask more precise questions.” the ghost handed him his journal back, and the student hesitantly accepted it, before flipping to a fresh page and patting himself down for a pencil. 

“Okay, why do you have the same name as the school’s founder?” the student asked, following the ghost’s advice.

“Because I was an important investment and symbol for this school.”

“I’ve never heard of you.”

“What’s your name?” Izuru asked, moving to the nearby bench and perching on the armrest. 

“S-Shuichi,” he answered.

“I’ve never heard of you either,” Izuru replied, making Shuichi groan but also chuckle. 

“Okay. How about… why haven’t I heard of you, if you’re important to this school?”

“Because I am a failed experiment.” Izuru stood and started walking along the length of the bench, hopping down at the end and moving to repeat the childish sort of fidgeting on the fountain instead. 

Shuichi noted that in his book: restless behavior

“What do you mean by ‘failed experiment?’” he asked.

“I failed the personality tests,” Izuru said. “I lack empathy and motivation.”

“What were you supposed to be?” Shuichi kept scribbling notes, he was so focused he didn’t hear Izuru approach and was once again startled to find him inches away.

“Why do you want to know all this?” Izuru asked. 

“... I’m a detective, why are you telling me all this?” Shuichi countered.

Izuru shrugged. “I’m bored.” he glimpsed over Shuichi’s notes quickly before continuing. “Four years ago, a reserve course student volunteered for an experimental procedure, a study regarding the ability to create artificial talent. I am the result, the ultimate human being. However, I failed to become what they wanted: the ultimate hope.”

Shuichi noticed he wasn’t having to prompt him anymore, it seemed he had Izuru’s full attention now. 

“As the years passed and it became clear I wasn’t developing the personality they lobotomized out of me, they stopped their experiments. Cut their losses. Supposedly, they are still keeping me for study, but I no longer hide my nightly outings and they no longer care so…” Izuru shrugged. 

“... they forgot about you?” Shuichi asked, feeling sad. “And now you just live here?”

“No point going anywhere else.” Izuru sat on the edge of the fountain, hunching over looking almost sulky. 

Shuichi tried to gather all the information in his head and process it. It was a lot to digest, but Izuru seemed honest. Of course, a lot of people seemed a lot of things. 

“Can you prove it?” Shuichi asked. 

“Prove what?”

“Prove you’re the ultimate human being.”

Izuru looked him over. “You’re the ultimate detective this year?” “Yes.”

Izuru quickly circled him, so fast some of his hair hit Shuichi in the face and he made a spluttering sound. 

“You don’t stay in the dorms and you’ve been spending nights away from home, avoiding something. You haven’t been sleeping either, but it’s not just from following me. Following me was something to do to give you a reason to avoid home and not sleep. Something at home is troubling you, keeping you awake, causing some sort of emotional distress. You’re also distracted by several of your fellow classmates whom you find attractive.”

“H-how-?”

“Bags under the eyes, rumpled clothes you’ve worn several days in a row, I’ve seen you sneaking about before, and you wrote their names in your journal,” Izuru remarked. “Kaede Akamatsu, Kaito Momota, Maki Ha-”

“Okay!” Shuichi cut him off, blushing. “But that’s simple deduction! I’m not special for being able to do that, anyone could! What else can you do?”

Izuru rolled his eyes, then performed a triple backflip.

Shuichi’s jaw dropped.

“Why is it always the acrobatics that amaze you people?” Izuru sighed. 

“It’s… flashier,” Shuichi said. 

“Why are you avoiding home?” Izuru asked suddenly, and Shuichi’s face fell. He tugged his hat down.

“... I have to be a detective at home.”

“You’re being a detective right now.”

“... I’m not putting anyone away, I’m not hurting anyone. I’m just watching you… and you could probably kill me for even trying…”

Izuru raised an eyebrow. “That’s reckless. Do you want me to kill you?”

Shuichi shrugged and Izuru suddenly found himself a lot more interested.

Interested? Or… there was a word. He used to use it quite often but…

Concerned?

“A case you’ve solved is troubling you?” Izuru guessed. “Your guardians expect you to continue regardless?”

“My uncle, it’s a family business and… helps to have a Hope’s Peak student as an employee. Good for business.” Shuichi closed his journal, suddenly uninterested in taking notes. 

“He’s using you for your talent?” Izuru asked, seeming as close to emotive as Shuichi had seen him so far.

“I mean… I wouldn’t say that but…”

“He is a detective, who either has not noticed or is willfully ignoring your emotional distress so you can continue aiding him. He is either using you, or an incompetent guardian.” Izuru huffed, and folded his arms over his chest. “I am familiar with this. Come with me.”

“W-where to?” Shuichi asked, as Izuru put a hand on his shoulder and started guiding him.

“I don’t use my bed, you can,” Izuru replied.

“I… wait, what?”

“I’m giving you a place to sleep safely, until you finally decide to ask for a room in the dorms,” Izuru said. “Eventually you will have to find the courage to ask for that or tell your uncle no, but right now it interests me to help you so I will.”

“So… I get to see where you live? Where you were experimented on?” Shuichi asked, unable to help his curiosity. 

“Yes.” Izuru stepped on the hidden panel that opened the doorway to the stairs, and Shuichi was left surprised once more.

[heyyyharry]

My Girl Series: Chapter 6 - This Time

…in which Y/N needs a wedding date, and this time Harry’s not giving up.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 5: Somebody Else - Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy, and no one else.

A little happy gift from sad Allie 😂 You’re welcome.

wattpad link

.

It had been two weeks since the last time Y/N saw Harry.

Like a ghost, he disappeared into thin air without a single clue only to reappear on a sunny Thursday afternoon via a simple text, saying he was waiting for her outside her flat and that it was an emergency. When she received that message, Y/N was in the library and had to drop everything at once to rush back home for him.

It was not until she had run up five floors and saw him standing outside her door with the brightest smile on his face, intact, that she realized she had been worried all for nothing.

"Hey, Bam—Ouch!" He jumped away, rubbing the sore spot on his arm where she'd just hit him, mouth agape. "What was that for?"

"'Come home quick. Emergency'? Emergency my ass! I was shit-scared when I read your text."

"This is an emergency." He bent down and picked up the paper bag at his feet. "I bought you ice cream and it's melting."

"Ice cream?" She dropped her jaw, hands on her hips. "I thought something bad had happened to you, H!"

"You thought I was in trouble and came home right away?"

Y/N rolled her eyes in response to that idiotically gorgeous smile of his, yet she decided not to answer that question.

"What's the occasion?" She asked, eyes fixed on the paper bag full of snacks he was carrying. She didn't understand why he looked so shocked as if she was supposed to know the answer already.

Wait, am I supposed to?

It took the girl a moment to remember the date, and when she had, she felt like the shittiest person alive.

It was her mother's birthday.

When they were little, Harry had always helped her prepare a small birthday party for her mother each year. They would make cupcakes and birthday cards together. Now that her mother was gone, he knew it was meaningless to come over with ice-cream for her and flowers for her mum since there was nothing left to celebrate. But he felt like he should, hoping his presence would count for something.

"I can't believe I forgot mum's birthday," she groaned into her palms, mentally cursing herself for being so thoughtless. But he knew it wasn't her fault, she didn't mean to forget. A lot of things had happened in her life recently, starting from her dad's engagement, to her struggles with her unfinished first novel, her unpaid rents, and then of course...him.

Harry was just about to say something when the girl lifted her face up, eyes squinted at him. "How did you..."

"Your dad told me you always visited her on her birthday..."

"My dad? Are you best friends with him now?"

"No, I just—"

"Don't." She raised a finger so he wouldn't continue, and he was waiting for her to tell him to leave. To his surprise, she didn't this time. She just took a long pause and asked him if he could give her a ride to the train station, so she could catch the next train back to Cheshire.

Y/N assumed a famous actor like Harry didn't have much free time to spare, and she really had to think twice before asking him for such a favor. After all, he had his own busy life, he wasn't her personal chauffeur.

The last thing she would expect to hear from him was, "I'll drive you back to Cheshire."

"What?" She raised an eyebrow at the man and he supposed she thought he was only kidding. He definitely wasn't. "It's a four-hour drive, H."

"Then we should leave now." He pressed his lips into a small smile, and her heart suddenly forgot how to beat.

She didn't know why he was doing all of that for her. She just asked for a small favor which he could have easily declined, still, he volunteered to drive nearly 200 miles so she could visit her mother's grave. She honestly didn't get it but she didn't want to ask him why.

"Thank you so much," she said. "I owe you this once."

"Wait, but..."

"But what?" Y/N had already climbed down a couple stairs when she stopped to look back at him.

"We should put the melting ice cream in the fridge." He nodded towards the door, making her smile.

It was actually the first smile he'd received from his Bambi after two weeks away from her and Harry couldn't put into words how glad he was to see it again. He knew they still had a lot of catching up to do. But he had a whole four hours in the car to worry about that. Right now, he let himself be happy.

.

.

.

The drive was long but neither of them was tired. Harry and Y/N blasted music in their car while driving away from the big city, singing songs they didn't know all the words to at the top of their lungs with the windows down and wind in their hair. Harry couldn't recall the last time he'd felt this free. He didn't have to worry about all the responsibilities waiting for him in London, nor think about how his manager would react when he found out Harry had rescheduled another interview for personal reasons. At that moment, in his car driving down the empty country road, it was just him and her and no one else.

When the music had become louder than their own voices, Harry stole a quick glance at the girl sitting by his side. She was too distracted by the beautiful sunset to continue singing or even catch his eyes on her.

"Watch out!"

Harry steered the wheel just in time to dodge the massive hole on the road. The car bounced ahead pretty hard, causing him to grip onto the wheels and her to scream out loud. Fortunately, both were safe as was the car but his heart was still beating out of control. When he turned to give her an apologetic grin, she smacked him right on the arm, telling him to be careful or else they would be dead before they even reached the graveyard. That threat really had the 24-year-old rooted to his seat. Maybe from now on, he should keep his eyes on the road instead of her.

When they arrived at Graceland Cemetery in Holmes Chapel, the sky was already pitch dark. Under the pale moonlight, the iron front gate looked exactly like one of those gateways to hell in the horror films she was obsessed with but he loathed deeply. He walked closer to her, one arm hugging the bouquet of lilies to his chest, the other gripping onto her arm as they passed many headstones laying all out of order on the muddy ground. It took them five minutes or so to get to where Y/N's mother was laid.

The girl kneeled down on the sew grass without minding the soil would ruin her beautiful white dress. She burnt three jasmine scented candles on the ground after laying the lilies down by her mother's grave.

"Happy birthday, mum," she mumbled, smiling at the grey stone with her mother's name on it. "I love and miss you very much, and I'm so sorry that I'm late today."

Watching her from the side made Harry feel like he was intruding the special mother-daughter moment and he intended to walk away. But all it took was one sound of his name from her lips and Harry's feet immediately grew roots into the ground.

"Harry is with me. He drove me all the way here from London so I could see you." With a faint smile, she turned to him. "Don't worry. He takes very good care of me."

The green-eyed man could hear his heartbeats echoing in his ear as all the hair on his arms stood to attention. He didn't know whether it was because of the cool April breezes blowing through his thin jacket, or the fact that they were in the middle of a graveyard, or the lovely hue in her sparkling eyes as they were gazing at him. What he did knew was in that very moment she might also feel the same, maybe a little if not entirely. And that was all it mattered.

.

.

.

"Since we're already here, do you wanna stop by to say hello to Anne?"

"My mum's on vacation actually. There's nobody home," Harry said as he made his way to Y/N, standing with his back against the car like she was as they both looked up at the magnificent view above their heads, a sky full of stars.

The sight was almost surreal, like the whole world had been covered in black velvet with little diamonds strung up as decorations. For too long Harry had been living in the big city where all the best views were hidden behind skyscrapers, and the busy lives on the ground didn't allow him to look up, not even once. Now in an open field with just them two and the sound of crickets chirping in fading moonlight, he could finally feel alive.

"You don't get to see this in London, right?" She said as both of them turned to look at each other at the same time.

"I think I've missed out on a lot of things since I left this town," he said, almost as a soft whisper for only them to hear. The stars were mirrored in her crystal clear eyes like little shiny specks of magic dust. The sight of it reminded him of the lake behind his high school on a summer night, when it looked like the water had captured the moon and all the stars. To him, Y/N was no different from that summer late. She carried the entire universe in those eyes.

"Harry," her voice, with the help of a cold breeze, soon dragged him back to reality. She was still looking at him and her expression was unreadable as she questioned, "have you ever considered talking Anne into selling that house?"

"No. She loves that place too much," he said. "Gemma and I don't wanna sell it either."

There was a pause.

"Thank you," she finally said, giving him another smile and looking up again.

Harry knew she meant to ask about their treehouse. She wanted to know if he'd ever thought about selling away one of the few things that were proof of what they used to have. Then she thanked him because he hadn't. Somewhere deep inside he felt joy because now he knew she still looked back to those days to the kids they once were. Maybe the part of him inside of her had never really faded away.

"Do you wanna stop by our treehouse?" He asked all of a sudden and he could tell from her reaction that she was taken aback.

"No, thanks." Y/N shook her head. "I might run into those two."

"Your dad and Marcy."

She confirmed with a sigh, puckering up her lips.

"I got their wedding invitation last week," he said, smiling at her but she was far from happy to hear that.

"I did too, but it's now in the bin." She shrugged, eyes on the stars whereas he was still staring at her. "I'm not going to their wedding."

"Why?"

"Because that would make me feel like I'm betraying my mother."

"But that's your dad. He really wants you to show up."

"So? He's a shit dad anyway."

Harry knew it wasn't his business when he received that stubborn eye-roll from her. He understood that she had every single right to hate that man for all he had done to her and her mother. But Harry cared about Y/N too much to let her keep tormenting herself and her father this way.

"Look, kid, I know he's shit at being a dad but...at least...he's still trying to be one."

That sentence made Y/N turn her head to face him once again. It had been too long, yet she could still remember the photo he had kept in his bedroom. The only photo of the man she had never seen before.

When nine-year-old Y/N asked him who it was, thirteen-year-old Harry hesitated for a little while before telling her it was his father. Before then she had assumed that every dad had to either live with their children, or come visit them once in a while like Celine’s dad. But from Harry's story, she learned that not every father wanted to be close to their kids and watch them grow. Harry's father had left his family since Harry was still too young to remember. Just like Y/N, he had never met the man. His mother had thrown away everything that belonged to his father, except for that one photo the little boy found in the attic and decided to keep as a secret. He had never shown it to anyone but the little girl next door.

Eyes still on her, Harry took a deep breath and squeezed the hand she put on her knee. "You don't have to forgive everything he's done but please don't cut him off for good. At least show up at his wedding."

"I can't do it alone." She shook her head fast and lowered it so she could stare at her feet instead of him. "I couldn't even have dinner with them alone..."

"Then I'll go with you. Sounds good?" He titled his head to read her face, squeezing the girl's hand a little bit tighter to remind her that he was there for her.

And after a moment of thinking, she finally answered, "I'll think about it and...let you know."

.

.

.

It was nearly 8PM when Harry and Y/N got back into their car to head back to London. The drive home was rather silent since both of them had been exhausted and it was getting late. They put on some slow songs and drove through the night with eyes kept away from each other. The scent of candle wax mixed with fresh soil still remained on her clothes. It smelt rather delicate, reminding him of a garden full of jasmines, and he loved it just as much as he knew she did.

"Where have you been?" She finally asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them both.

"Where have I been?"

"In the last two weeks. What? You have a tendency of ghosting on the people in your life once in a while?"

The people in his life, he knew she meant her and Isaac. He couldn't straight off tell her that he'd only been avoiding them while keeping contact with everyone else in his life. She wouldn't understand and hate him as much as she had before.

So he told her he'd been busy getting ready for a new role for a movie which started shooting in the summer. It was also the truth, well, half of it. He'd left out the part about him trying to figure out what he wanted and what he was willing to give up in order to be happy. By the end, he'd realized that he missed her too much to be able to stay away from her life and still feel joy at the same time. He'd done it before, living six years without knowing where or how she was. But now that she had come back, he must admit that it was a struggle trying not to think about her every second of the day.

"Don't worry. I won't disappear like that again," he said.

She didn't reply and he didn't hope that she would believe him. He could always show her that he was sincere.

Harry parked his car outside her building and they both got out at the same time. He was slightly disappointed because he wanted to open the car door for her like they did in those romantic films. But then again he remembered, his Bambi was never one of those cliché leading girls.

Before he could open his mouth to say goodnight and goodbye, Y/N pulled him into a sudden hug and thanked him for everything he'd done for her that day.

"Do you want to come in?" She asked, to his surprise. "There's ice cream in the fridge."

Her offer made him smile.

"I would love to," he said and for sure meant it. "But I can't. I've got dinner with Niall."

"Dinner at midnight?"

"That restaurant opens until 3AM." He shrugged, checking his watch. "But...I'm kind of an hour late now."

"Oh, okay. See you another time then?"

"Sure." He stroked her tangled hair and pressed his lips to her forehead as he wished her goodnight. When they parted, he felt strangely incomplete even though she wasn't even out of sight. Harry now began to think he had turned into one of those clingy high school boys who couldn't stop missing his secret crush, and the fact that he had just implied that she was his secret crush was already too embarrassing. He had no control of whatever going on inside his brain anymore, and he felt like it should be a bad thing.

"What are you doing next Friday night?" He shouted out the question, making the girl turn around just as she reached the glass doors.

"Uh...Probably studying for my finals. Why?"

"You stay at home and study on your birthday?" The amusement in that question of his had her eyes widened and her jaw fell open. That was when the man realized she had not only forgotten her mother's birthday, but also her own.

"Right." She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. "Now that I remember. I do have plans on that night."

"Oh...With Isaac?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

Even though he had already seen it coming and received that apologetic look from her, Harry still felt like crap. He told her it was no big deal as he got back into his car and started the engine. They waved at each other one last time before he departed. This time, the girl stayed exactly where she was, watching his car until it blended into the moving traffic on the busy avenue.

.

.

.

"Sorry, I'm late!"

"Aren't you always?"

Niall blew up his cheeks as he closed the menu in his hand, dark blue eyes narrowed at Harry, who was still trying to catch his breath as he told the waiter to get him whatever his friend had already ordered.

"And two glasses of Cheval Blanc 2010," he quickly added, with a smile.

"We only sell that by the bottle, sir."

"Bring me a bottle then."

"Wait." Niall held up a hand just as the waiter turned away. "He'll have a glass of water."

"A glass of water?" The actor snorted.

Niall Horan was the least serious person he'd ever known but this time the guy wasn't joking. The singer nodded his head, telling the waiter to leave them and intertwined his fingers on the table, intense eyes staring his best friend down.

"You can't show up here drunk and order a whole bottle of wine, Harold."

"I'm not drunk."

"Then why's your face red and why do you keep smiling like an idiot?"

That one simple question got Harry tongue-tied. He thought he might know the answer. But he couldn't even say it to himself let alone to his best friend who couldn't even keep a secret for longer than a day. Of course, he loved Niall with all his heart and would do anything for that man had he asked just once. But there was a good reason he would always confide in Isaac and had to think twice before confessing something to his other best friend.

"Are you sure you're sober, Harold?" Niall asked, probably still suspecting Harry was lying to him

"I am. Absolutely!"

"Good. I don't wanna see you as that drunk mess when the witch left again."

Niall paused as soon as he realized what he had just said, slowly lifting his eyes to check his best friend's reaction. Despite not mentioning any name, he knew Harry could already tell whom he was referring to. Of course, Niall didn't mean to bring her up at a happy dinner like this, it just slipped out by accident. Now he felt so bad about it.

Harry hadn't thought about Ruby for weeks now. He'd blocked her number and he couldn't even remember the last time he'd checked social media to see what she had been up to. Ever since the BAFTAs, the name Ruby Ellis had completely vanished from his mind. But Niall accidentally bringing her up tonight was almost like opening up an old wound.

Harry didn't know how to describe his relationship with Ruby, if it was ever a relationship. But his feelings for her had been real. His pain, his jealousy, his tears, his nightmares, all of them had been real. He couldn't even describe the post-goodbye since it had been the worst six months of his entire life. He would wake up in the middle of the night screaming her name and reaching out to search for her figure only to hold onto air on the empty side of his bed. What he and Ruby had together was heaven and hell at the same time. So when he'd escaped from the maze that was her heart, and finally looked back from an outsider's point of view, he realized how wrong she had been for him, how much she had damaged him, physically and emotionally.

But he had loved her. He really had loved her. So much to the point even now if he was walking down the street, he would turn his head the second he smelt her favorite perfume on a stranger. However, some people were only meant to stay in your memory and not in your heart or your arms, and Harry had to learn it the hardest way in order to let her go.

"Don't worry. I'm not going back there again," he said, giving his best friend a reassuring smile.

"I believe in you." Niall reached out to hold his wrist. "She taught you to smoke and you quitted. Now you could quit her."

That sounded so sad, yet so true.

His ex-lover was nothing more than a bad habit.

The mood at the two gentlemen's table was lifted once again when the waiter from earlier returned with their food and two crystal glasses of mineral water. Niall had quite a passion for food as he did for music, so the look on his face when he saw the steaming dishes laid down in front of his eyes made Harry dissolve into laughter.

"I'm gonna take a photo for Isey," said the singer as he unlocked out his phone and rose from his chair to find a good angle for the shot.

"Why isn't he here though?" Harry asked. "Is he busy?"

"What are you talking about? He's in Rome right now. Didn't he tell you?"

"He's on vacation?"

"More like workation." Niall sat back down, rolling his eyes and put his phone away to grab the napkin. "You should try the fish, Harry. It's marvelous."

"Niall, what do you mean?" Harry honestly couldn't concentrate on eating at the moment to even think about how marvelous the fish was. "He's working in Italy? For how long?"

"At least six months or more. I don't know."

"Six months? But Y/N's birthday is next week."

"Who's Y/N?"

Harry sighed in frustration as he corrected himself, "Bambi."

"Oh, right! The Bambi/Smiley girl." Niall chuckled, shaking his head. "Isey asked her to be his girlfriend last week, but at that point, he still hadn't received the offer to shoot for Vogue Italy. Somehow Smiley...I mean Bambi found out about it so she turned him down. Isey was really sad so he flew off to Rome without telling anyone, and I just found out last night when I asked him to come with us. I assumed you'd already known because he always told you everything."

As Niall went on with his speculations about how Y/N had discovered the Vogue thing, Harry could only try to make sense why she'd lied to him that she had birthday plans with Isaac, knowing the guy was in Rome. Maybe she didn't want Harry to feel pity for her, maybe she just wanted to be alone, or maybe she thought he had done too much for her and didn't want him to show up at her door with a teddy bear and pink balloons with her initial on them. Anyway, her two best friends were in Boston and she obviously wouldn't come home for dinner with her dad and his new woman. So he couldn't let her celebrate her 20th birthday with a stack of books and way too much caffeine. Harry had missed many of her birthdays already and that was entirely his fault. But this time he had to do things differently.

"Niall." He calmly looked at his friend who had already finished half of the fish. "Do you happen to know any stargazing spot in London?"

[cassie-and-ren]

Hi~

So obviously I haven’t been posting, for one I’m sorry I’m finally on summer break and I really wanted to relax from school for a bit before my life kills me and secondly it’s really just because I had huge writers’s block and I still do. I”m trying to get new ideas and whatnot, but who knows. I hope I can keep writing for you all! On to my normal blurb...

I really don’t know what this is but I’m a sucker for Catfish the TV show and I always love it when they meet who they were really talking to. So yeah...

Enjoy reading~

Ghosting

    You weren’t the most social person on the planet, that’s an understatement. You didn’t like speaking to people in real life or at all, pretty much you wanted to keep to yourself, and for the most part you were able to. All through school no one bothered you unless they were forced to speak with you and you were content with having no friends. That wasn’t to say you enjoyed it all the time, seeing girls and guys hang out with their friends, talking for hours, laughing and doing things together you did envy it, but what were you to do now? It’s not like you could just all of a sudden start acting friendly. At least you didn’t want to, High School was ending soon for you and making friends seemed pointless. So you hoped maybe as you got older you’d make friends at work or maybe even in higher learning.

    Either way you didn’t really concern about it most time, just the few time it did cross your mind, but you didn’t concern too much about it because you did have one friend…

    As you got home your parents didn’t say much to you so you quickly went to your room and opened your laptop checking to see if he was on. This he was named MaL, at least that was his username. You met him randomly while you were scrolling through your social media, you came across a fan page for Mark and decided to follow it since you felt like you needed some more Mark Lee pictures in your life. That was when one day he messaged you with a simple hello. From there you two talked almost everyday, he knew you had school so he didn’t bother texting you then, but it had become pretty routine to talk with him every other day. You wanted to talk with him more but you didn’t want to come across as needy or annoying and settled on doing it every other day. MaL never said anything either so you were content with how things were.

    Even though you two had never video chatted or spoken on the phone you trusted him and what he told you. He explained he was a male, that he was around your age. He didn’t say where he lived and neither did you, apart from a vague country or continent but a part of you wanted to know. Eventually things went from you just having a cool online friend to having a crush. You enjoyed speaking to him and found yourself wanting to hear his voice and meet him in real life. You never asked because you worried if he’d think you were strange for wanting to meet up, you had only known each other for two months or so, but things were good so you settled on just talking online and didn’t do anything to mess that up.

That’s when you heard a chime on your laptop.

“Hey~ you home yet?” You smiled and responded.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t text first… I was thinking about something.”

“What about?”

“Nothing serious, just some dumb stuff”

“You don’t think about dumb stuff, are you lying?”

“Lol why would I be?”

“I don’t know, you never know.”

“Well you know, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Right…”

“I’m serious!”

“Alright calm down, I was joking! But  I have a day off tomorrow so I can stay up really late tonight!”

“You’re not going to fall asleep on me?”

“As long as you don’t.”

“Touche.”

“Lol”

“Well you know NCT is coming to your country?”

“Of course I know! Everyone blew up about it online.”

“Are you gonna go?”

“I really want to but…”

“No, you have to go!”

“Why?”

“Because, when EXO came last time you said you wanted to go but forgot to buy tickets, you complained about it for almost a week after!”

“Who cares, just ignore me or tell me to stop complaining.”

“You can’t be mean to friends.”

“So I can be rude to you then?”

“Okay, not funny.”

“I’m kidding, but if I do go I’ll be all alone.”

“No you won’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I’m going too.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, this time I wanted to see all their concerts, I took some time off from work and my parents are cool with it. So when I heard they were coming to where you are I figured maybe… we could meet up in see each other in real life.” You really didn’t know what to think, if you said yes you were going to meet him. That made you heart race, but you had to respond.

“You really want to meet me?”

“Of course! You’re almost like best friends and this way meeting you won’t freak you out… even though I swear I’m not some creepy dude.”

“I know… but you don’t know if I could be some creepy person!”

“I don’t think you are, if you were you would have asked to meet me, but you never did.”

“Have you ever seen catfish?”

“Okay extreme cases there, besides have I ever sent you money?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Well that aside we’ll be in public with a ton of other people, I wanted to meet you in the venue, I was getting my seat really close to the stage too, but I figured if we went in together we could get seats together.” That seemed like a good idea, you’d meet where everyone was going to be. You did have some money saved and while buying a seat that close was expensive… you’d be killing two birds with one stone.

“Okay…”

“Hey, don’t be nervous… I mean I am too but only because it’ll be new getting to see you and hear your voice.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I’m glad you feel that way too… we could do it now if you want. Buying our seats together?”

“...Yeah alright should I pick where we sit?”

“If you want I’ll go in and try and get my right beside you… or at least in the same row.”

“Okay let me bring it up.”

    After that, you spent most of the night trying to find two seats that were empty together, eventually you and him found seats that were close enough together and you bought yours. You and MaL talked for the rest of the night until you started to get sleepy, you were more so than usual and told him you’d call it a night. He let you go and soon you were fast asleep…

    Since their concert was happening after school for you ended, you focused on the end of the year. You still wanted to talk to MaL but despite your wants he seemed to just disappear. You tried to text him everyday now because he wouldn’t respond to you. You were worried maybe he was bailing out on even meeting you, you tried asking him questions only for him to totally ignore them. You weren’t even let on read. He somehow just disappeared from your life, and while you were disappointed you had spent over two hundred dollars just to see NCT so you were going to force yourself to be happy and within the following two weeks you were getting ready to leave…

    The day of the concert had you were nervous for one reason or another, you still told none of this boy to your parents for fear they’d be so worried and prevent you from going, but you did tell them that you wanted to be picked up by them which they happily agreed to. So as you and a large group of other girls were waiting for the doors to open you looked around trying to see if MaL was there. You two did plan to wear something that you two would recognize, you wore a pink bandana on your left wrist while he said he have on black ripped jeans with a key chain he sent a picture. You were still worried that he may have just been setting you up, but you did think maybe he thought the same way. You didn’t have high hopes for tonight and told yourself not to take any stupid risks. Eventually you were let inside and you quickly found your row and seat. You knew what seat he had gotten so you wanted around for a while seeing girl after girl fill the spaces, by the time the stands were filled there was still a seat left open in your row. You hoped it was his and tried to get your mind off it. Then NCT came onto the stage.

    In your mind you were thinking about how handsome they all were up close, but that quickly faded when you saw Mark. He was your bias but that’s not that caused you to stare blankly at him. Once they were all on stage preparing for the first song Mark turned to stare directly at you. You were caught off guard especially when you noticed that easily recognizable key chain. Mark stared at you for a while longer before you decided to raise your left hand showing the pink bandana, upon seeing that a bright smile came to his face and the song started. Everything hit you then. MaL was Mark! You couldn’t believe you didn’t put two and two together! He never said when his birthday was, but you assumed it was during the summer since he would always talk about his gifts during the winter. He also knew a lot about Mark, most of it you brushed off as simple coincidence but thinking about it now, of course he’d know that stuff about himself! You couldn’t believe it, now you were laughing and soon joined everyone else in the fan chants…

    The concert had been amazing, Mark stole glances your way making you laugh when you really didn’t need to, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. Once everything was over you were slowly making your way out of the concert hall, that was until you finally got a message from Mark again.

“Sorry about this, but do you think we can meet up?” You smiled.

“Of course we can Mark… where?” He told you where and you went there and waited around until pretty much everyone was gone. You told your parents you’d call them when you were done so you didn’t have to worry about them just yet. You were about to text Mark again when he called out to you.

“Hey…” You turned as he approached you. You two said nothing for a little bit, Mark broke the silence. “... Did you have fun.” You smiled.

“Yeah I really did.” He smiled happy to hear that, “But I didn’t have fun being ignored for the last two weeks.”

“I know! I’m sorry it’s just after you said you were coming I figured I’d just talk to you here, but I didn’t think about how long that would be.” You nodded.

“I almost didn’t come because I thought you were baiting me.”

“I told you I wasn’t some creep.” You smiled.

“Yeah, instead you’re a liar! I can’t believe you’re Mark Lee!” You were acting like a normal fan would as reality finally hit you, he just laughed at you. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t really know how you were, I was worried you’d tell everyone you knew and things would get out of hand fast.” You nodded. “Plus I really didn’t want you liking me because I’m Mark from NCT, I know it’s kind of corny but I wanted you to like me for me, not what I do.” You smiled.

“I get it, but I wouldn’t have told anyone since I really don’t have friends,” He seemed shocked, “And secondly I already liked you as a bias.” His face went red.

“Y-you did?” You nodded.

“I hope that doesn’t make things weird.”

“No! It just means… uh I know we can keep being good… friends.”

“Yeah… friends.” You two sat in silence for a little bit.

“Hey can I ask you-” You both stopped speaking over each other, he let you go first.

“Well, I was gonna ask if uh you’d be okay with-” You shook your head. “Actually never mind, what were you going to ask?” He got stiff suddenly.

“Uh, I was just going to ask if you were dating anyone, but you said you didn’t really have friends so maybe I shouldn’t have asked that?”

“No, it’s fine, but why did you want to know?”

“W-well because we’re kind of close and I was hoping we could keep being this close and I figured if you were with someone it’d be kind of bad you know?” As cute as he was you held back a smile.

“I get it… and I hope we can keep being close too.” Mark smiled to you. “But no more lies.”

“I promise.” You nodded to him.

“So… do you wanna go backstage with me? Everyone was kind of curious about who you were.”

“You told them about me?”

“Yeah, they kind of make fun of me for it.” Your face went hot, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I’m going! Just swear you’ll catch me if I pass out.” You joked, he laughed.

“Sure I’ll have Jaehyun carry you.” You didn’t expect your meeting to wind up this way. You were happy and even more so knowing that your feelings for Mark may have been mutual…

[ncityreplay]

request

Sicheng angst+fluff (slightly NSFW)

It had been two weeks since the glaring message on your phone had broken your heart in five simple words.

"We need to end this."

It wasn't anything like you were used to waking up to from your boyfriend, Sicheng. He was happiness personified, the sweetest boy you'd ever met who quickly grew to become the most loving man you could ever hope to know. You were too shocked to even cry, your head swimming with confusion. Was this some kind of sick joke? But a short, blunt phone call later told you everything you needed to know.

Sicheng was ending it with you. You had never heard his voice so stoic or cold. In fact, you didn't even know he was capable of sounding like that. He sounded like a completely different person, a stranger...but a stranger who was breaking your heart more and more with every word.

You tried asking questions, tried to talk to him, to understand why he was doing this, but he refused your calls and your text messages went unanswered. For the first few days you were mostly angry and shocked, unable to believe he was doing this. But when it finally sank in, the sadness inside of you broke free and you were inconsolable. You cried and you screamed and you cursed him, even though you didn't mean it. You wished you could hate him, because that would make it so much easier, but you loved him the way you always had.

The worst part was you had to keep on with your everyday life like nothing was wrong. Going to work, running errands, dealing with people. You didn't want to do any of it but you had to. Your friends knew what happened, and they tried their best to help you, but you were telling the truth when you said there was nothing they could do. Maybe time could heal this wound but it would take so much longer than you wanted to admit.

Honestly, you really wished you knew what happened. Had you done something wrong? Had he found someone else? Was he tired of you and just wanted to move on? It was driving you crazy not knowing what could have made him go from your loving boyfriend to this cold monster overnight.

It also didn't help that there were reminders of him everywhere. He had been such a big part of your life for so long, after all. You had clothes that belonged to him, little gifts from him scattered around your apartment, and of course, all the pictures. Pictures of him you had snapped, pictures of the two of you together you had posed for so cutely. They were all things you knew you would be better off disposing of but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. The memories hurt, but they were all you had now, and you couldn't bring yourself to erase them...not yet.

It became a vicious cycle of the same old things. Work, sleep, eat, repeat. Even your sleep was horrible because most nights, you dreamt of him, and when you woke up, for just a few seconds, you forgot everything...and then when you remembered, it was like hurting for the first time all over again.

Eventually, you became numb. You were like a robot, going through the motions, doing what you needed to do. Sometimes you would stare at a movie on tv. Other times you just came home from work and immediately went to bed.

You were walking home from work one cloudy evening, thunder rumbling in the distance as you drudged along the sidewalk leading to your apartment building. You wondered if it would rain. You also realized you didn't really care. It would be fairly suiting to your mood, after all.

The last thing you expected was to see him standing there outside your apartment building. You stopped dead in your tracks as your gaze found his and your breath caught in your throat, a painful ache shooting through your chest.

"Sicheng," You breathed, and you truly didn't know what to do or say.

"I..." He began, blinking rapidly. He chewed his bottom lip, looking at the ground. "Can we talk?"

You squinted your eyes at him. Suddenly, you weren't numb anymore - you were mad. Pissed off. "Talk?" You seethed through clenched teeth. "What is there to talk about, Sicheng? About how you dumped me via text message? How you broke my heart without a warning? Or how you refused to give me a reason or an explanation after the fact?!" You shouted at him.

Sicheng cringed at your words, his face flushing red with shame. "All of that." He murmured. He found your gaze again as he dared take a step toward you. When you didnt move, he took another step, and another, until he was inches from you. He shakily laid his hands on your arms, and he closed his eyes, sighing as if touching you was a relief he had been yearning for.

"I'm so sorry," Sicheng said, his voice cracking slightly as he looked down at you. "I know you won't believe me but it killed me to do it. It broke me. And it's why I ignored you. Because you're my weakness, and I knew I would change my mind."

"So why did you do it?!" You glared up at him, shaking with anger. A light drizzle of rain began, getting you both wet and sticking Sicheng's hair to his forehead as he refused to tear his gaze away from you.

"Because I thought I was going to have to leave the country for a long time," He admitted. "There were talks of staying 3 years overseas with no travel back and forth and no visitors allowed. And I didn't think you deserved that. I thought it would be easier to break your heart now in the hopes you could heal and move on instead of hurting for three years while apart."

You stared up at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" You scoffed. "Sicheng, I've been miserable! I love you, you idiot! You could have just talked to me about it, you didn't have to break my heart like that!" You were crying now, and the sight of your tears made Sicheng's heart ache.

"I overreacted. I was stupid." He said quietly. "I wish I hadn't said anything because I won't have to go anywhere. Plans changed. I'm...staying here, for good."

You stated at him in disbelief. "Sicheng..."

"I'm so sorry," He broke down, clutching your shoulders as he bowed his head to hide his tears. "I'm so sorry for what I did, I'm so sorry...please forgive me, please.."

You were still angry, you were still hurt, but you also felt like having him here with you made everything right again. You opened your mouth to speak when he lifted his head, grabbing your face and pressing an urgent kiss to your lips. The familiar taste of him and the warmth of his body pressed against yours felt like home, even with the salty taste of tears on both your mouths.

"I love you so much," He told you, teary eyes sparkling as he met your gaze. "Please forgive me. I'm so sorry."

"I love you too." You said finally, and you meant it. You were tired of hurting, and the smile that spread across his handsome face warmed your heart. This was your Sicheng, the man you loved and who loved you. For the first time in two weeks, life made sense.

Your proclamation of love was like fuel to a fire as he kissed you again, longer and deeper, his tongue prodding your lips to ask for entrance which you happily allowed. You were tangled up in each other, lost in the familiar tastes and heat of one another and yet somehow managed to stumble your way to the apartment building. As you fumbled with your keys, Sicheng stood behind you with his hands on your hips, his lips ghosting wet kisses along the side of your neck.

When the door finally budged, you had never been more thankful that your apartment was on the first floor and close to the entrance. More stumbling, more key fumbling, and you letting out an embarrassing sound when Sicheng nibbled on your earlobe.

"I missed you so much," He breathed, his warm breath tickling your skin. You opened the door and stumbled inside, Sicheng kicking the door closed before turning you to face him and pulling you close. You threw your head back, gasping as his mouth assaulted your neck while his hands all but ripped at your clothes, peeling away what he could within seconds.

"Don't ever pull that again," You managed to say, sliding your hands beneath his shirt and scraping your nails lightly up the smooth skin of his back, delighting in the whimper he made at your touch. "Whatever happens, promise me. You'll talk to me before you decide to do something so stupid"

"Never again," He murmured against your skin, unbuttoning your blouse. He kissed a trail along your collarbone, his hands digging into your hips to pull you closer, allowing you to feel his growing hardness pressed against your leg. "There won't be a next time because I'm never leaving you again."

His lips found yours again, another heated kiss that was one of many throughout the remainder of the night. You had gone two weeks without each other, and you had a lot of catching up to do.

[sfiddy]

Pardon me, but I need to apologize. If your latest fic is for me, I would read it, but I won't, as I'm sixteen. I feel so bad, I forgot that you're new, and didn't know that. I forgot to say that I really would prefer the fic to not be explicit. Please don't feel bad, it's my fault for forgetting. I'm so sorry! Is all of it smut, or may I read some of it? I really love your writing, and I feel so terrible. I hope this won't ruin things between us, because I want to talk to you more.-Pure Anon

Dear Pure Anon,

You are astonishingly considerate and I extend my deepest apologies for the misunderstanding.  No, it’s not all smut.  Allow me to present an edited version (I was careful to remove all rated content but I believe I left the tension and affection) that provides all of the flavor and none of the spice.

Silver Storms, rated PG-13

Summary: Summer is easy to survive, but winter is not so kind, and comfort is as valuable as coin when ghosts howl in the wind.

…

Leningrad in summertime was an easy place to survive. It was easy for Anya to sweep all day and relax in the afternoon, eating a ladle of cheap street stew bought with her slim wages and still each week lay a little by for travel. She had a tin cup for her stew, a bed roll to sleep, and enough clothes that she was never too ripe. She had enough for a slice of soap every week, and the Neva was a fair enough washtub. The breezes that rolled from her banks were refreshing on warm nights.

And it was a fine life in summertime.

There was even entertainment in the mornings. Speeches in the square. Marches, sometimes, too. Decorative uniforms and sleek words. Good words. They were plain and good and Anya understood work and it’s value. When she finished sweeping a street, it was cleaner. That was good, and she was paid and that was better. So she got her assignment every day and swept the street, usually in the area around the Prospekt and the square, and listened to the speeches as she did her work.

And if the man giving the speeches sometimes lingered when he looked at her, well, that was nothing to be concerned about. As long as he only looked, though worse fates had been suffered and occasionally enjoyed in the course of her treks, though not since arriving in Leningrad. Anya knew how delicate her situation was. It was enough that she had bad dreams. She did not need visitors in her patch under the bridge, too.

And thus, everything was such. A fine life. In summertime.

…

The weather hinted at change one day, and Anya needed her coat until mid morning. With winter coming, she would be able to save less– it took more food to survive and she’d need shelter some nights, though how to find it was yet to be worked out. The cold, too, brought its demons, waking her in the night with faded strains of a song full of sorrow. Images floated in the darkness, crowding her from peace with rhymes of wings and silver storms and other words not common to her speech. Ideas not safe for a simple Russian. Her nights were haunted by ghosts.

Her arms were slow to loosen that morning and, even working, it was chilly until the sun was quite bright. Even the commissar giving the morning speech had kept his great coat on. Anya was amused that there were medals on both the coat and the uniform underneath. Only the Cheka were permitted such duplication of goods, it seemed.

Even as he spoke– of a brave future, of shared work and shared rewards– his eyes followed her. But for the first time, it seemed, it was with concern. Anya looked away quickly, but had seen the way his sturdy brow knitted together. For winter came fast in Russia, and without warning. The same could be said for much else, if the occasional raids that resulted in new faces on the street and in the shops she swept the doorways of were any indication.

Warmth returned again, fading the song, the ghosts, and dreams of places far from Leningrad. Anya rose refreshed and gathered Russia’s dirt into piles, following her broom on a slow march across the Prospekt.

…

A pile of grit had knocked loose from a damaged concrete barrier and Anya spent her day chasing the debris. In the afternoon, nearing the time when Anya would return to the work station for pay, she stopped to survey her work.

“A good day’s work, comrade.”

She spun around, ready to hold off whoever had come so close without her knowledge but… it was the speech maker, his uniform glinting with medals.

“Ah, thank you. Just doing my part.”

He smiled, and nodded at the smooth pavement and the tidy seams along walkways. “And an excellent contribution. Russia is in your debt.” He gave a little bow, and offered her something in his hand. When she shied away, he unwrapped the package a bit. “Russia may not be able to offer many comforts at present, but just one will do no harm, eh?”

Crinkled white paper parted in his hand and inside was a small clutch of dried fruits and nuts. Sweets. Hardly decadent, but her mouth watered at the idea of a dried apricot, leathery and chewy and melting with sugar.

But who knew what this was? Perhaps it was a trick. Some test of loyalty or her adherence to austerity. “I shouldn’t.”

He gave the bag a little shake, jostling the treats around. “Well, if you just look, I’m sure you’ll find something you like. Oh look! I’ve got one more date!” He held it out proudly.

“No. I’m just doing my job.”

He looked a little defeated. “Oh. It’s the uniform, isn’t it?”

Anya looked down. “I can’t lose this job. They’re very hard to come by.”

“I understand. What is your name?”

She looked up sharply. “Why? Am I in trouble?”

“No!” he said quickly. “I just… I see you every day and I wanted to say hello properly.”

“By giving me candy?”

Curiously, he muttered to himself before clearing his throat and looking up again. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to do something nice. Just… just cup your hand behind you, like this.” He tucked his arm to his side and made a well with his hand. “I’ll walk by and your work leader won’t see, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not.” But she cupped her hand by her side anyway because you don’t turn down food and you certainly don’t say no to someone with two sets of medals. He passed by and her hand filled with various nuts and fruits.

He turned and showed that the bag was empty, glee painted in his smile. “I’m here every day!”

She already knew that, but she stuffed the nuts and fruits in her pocket and saved most of her wages that day.

…

The next morning she woke to the chilly breath of the Neva and finished the last of the fruit as her dream song full of sorrow faded. Then Anya spent her day thinking about the officer. He was sweet and charming. A fine example of a man, but not for her. Surely a man like that belonged to someone.

It was almost an accident. Anya was simply sweeping but found that her path crossed his before his speech, and he tipped his head towards her as he made his way to his podium. She saw the direction he came from and noted it. If she lingered over her broom later, she was marked for her efforts, and it gave her a view to the street he walked and the row of doors he approached before she had to mind her work once more.

It took nearly a week to find out which flat was his. And it was his. Only his. Two entire rooms and a bathroom. Running water and a kitchen and a little balcony with a few potted plants. Anya scurried back to her detail and worked fast to make up the time, but kept his shy smile at the back of her mind.

…

There were soggy, shredded pamphlets in the square today. Rain and wind during the night had turned stacks of them to mulch, spreading decomposing to slop in her usual work areas.

“I’m sorry, comrade.”

She knew his voice well by now. He was here everyday. “What for?”

“I had the pamphlets set out last night. I’d hoped to start early, but instead I added to your burdens.” When she turned, he was in his coat and had his hands clasped in front of him. He looked like a confessing child. “I’m sorry. I did not think of the weather.”

She shrugged. “It’s work.” He nodded at that, but lingered, watching her sweep the gobs of wet paper into neat piles for later collection. It was odd, his inspection of her broom’s harvest. While Russians were discouraged from idle chit chat, Anya realized she had not thanked him for the sweets the other day.

“I’m Anya.”

He held out his hand. “Gleb. Gleb Vaganov.” When her eyes travelled to the stacked rows of medals and the thick epaulets, he tipped his head to the side with a faint grimace. “Ah, Deputy Commissioner Gleb Vaganov.”

Anya took his hand, but only then. “Just Anya.”

The shy smile returned and Anya wondered what made him bashful. Was he shy or did he lack experience? Another idea to examine later in her bed roll.

“Anya. That’s a good name.” Gleb released her hand. “A strong name.”

“It’s the only one I’ve known.”

Gleb nodded. Russia was a place where you did not ask too many questions. There were ghosts everywhere.

“May I buy you a cup of tea, Anya? For the mess?”

Her mouth nearly watered. She’d not had good tea in weeks, usually contenting herself with herbs and pine boiled in her tin cup. But the broom… her job.

He caught her hesitation. “I will send a message to your work leader.”

It was just a cup of tea, and they were both here every day. And if Gleb slipped an extra biscuit onto her saucer, who was she to refuse?

…

Another day, another street full of chipped wood, sand, and… ice? Anya had dreaded it, but the first morning came when the edges of the gutters were wet with ice shards melting in the morning sun. Over the next week, the ice took longer to melt as the concrete cooled more every night, and Anya wrapped her scarf around her head and neck against the cold.

She looked up from her work as Gleb approached.

“Brisk morning, comrade!” He rubbed his hands together and clapped them. “I have risen early every morning this week and I have yet to see the first snow of the season. Tell me, my friend, have you seen snow yet?”

She laughed. “What a good Russian you are, Gleb. And no, I have not seen snow, only ice.”

He sighed dramatically. “A pity. I suppose we will have to find solace in this.” He held out his hand. Anya had grown accustomed to his offerings. Nuts one day, an egg another. She swept her way to him and looked at the waxy paper his hand.

She could not name the memory. She had no reference for it, but she recognized the glossy brown lump peeking from the waxed paper.

“Is that… chocolate?”

Gleb closed his hand. “Shh! It took me two weeks to get it! Here.” Artlessly, he took her hand and tucked the package into it. He backed away, cheeks blazing, and glanced down at his shoes. “Enjoy it later and tell me all about it!”

“Wait, don’t you want–”

But he was already walking to his office.

Anya curled one corner of the paper to see, then she dented the shiny crust with her fingernail. Definitely chocolate, though she wasn’t sure when the last time she’d had a taste.

He was nearly to his office on the Prospekt, and Anya watched as the door was opened for him.

She whispered to no one. “Don’t you want some?”

That night, Anya broke off a piece of the cold chocolate and slipped it into her mouth. It warmed and loosened. It slid across her tongue, melted smoothly, and coated her mouth in a polished, bittersweet glow. It made her mouth water but she didn’t want to swallow too often. Anything to make this last.

It didn’t, but that was alright. The taste slicked her mouth and was the most luxurious thing she could remember. It was tempting, the other half, but she wrapped it tightly in the waxed paper to tuck away in a spare pocket and then tucked herself in her cold bedroll. She would save the rest for a colder night. Maybe.

…

A colder day came soon enough. The ice lasted through the morning and the sun did not come out to melt it. The sky was gray and lightened only enough to make the darkening all the more ominous. Anya felt the chill of heavy wet air, and it was late afternoon when the first pellets began to fall. They bounced off her shoulders, then grew sticky. Before Anya could make her way back to the meager shelter of the bridge, the cold rain had passed into ice, then rain, and back again.

In the late afternoon, back at her patch, Anya shivered violently and tried to light a few coals but her matches were wet and so was the kindling, and she was shaking. There had been nothing to eat even with her few ready coins, and as much as she would have enjoyed the chocolate, it wouldn’t help her tonight.

With no way to get warm and no food, Anya searched her slowing mind for options and found only one. Using her broom to keep upright in the freezing rain, she picked her way past landmarks she knew well enough to know on which side the street filth accumulated, beneath the very few lamps burning dim with fish oil, and past the Nevsky Prospekt. She stumbled past the shops she swept, and finally slogged shakily to the row of doors.

The cold was so deep in her she could scarcely stand to knock on the door. It was a kittenish knock. If he did not hear then the doorway was good enough. A little warmth seeped from the chinks around the frame.

Exhaustion dimmed her sight, and she banged her thin fist against the door once more.

“Yes! Yes! I’m coming!” The door opened a crack as shoes shuffled about on the other side. “A terrible night, comrade. Do you have a message— Oh!”

It was warm inside. Gleb was in shirtsleeves.

“Anya! You’re freezing!”

She managed a weak smile. Blue-lipped, most likely. “A terrible night indeed, comrade.”

The swift motion made Anya’s head spin and she was suddenly inside, clutching at a wall as Gleb closed and locked his door. There was warmth but she could not feel it, not through all the wet and the crusts of ice.

“Get out of that! Here, in here.” Her coat was stripped away and Gleb led her to a washroom. “I’ll get you some blankets and hot water. Anya! Listen!”

She’d been cold before. Worse, maybe, and managed to live without help but she would not refuse it now. Not when she could sense heat on her face and smell the steam of a boiling kettle.

“Yes, Gleb.” Once she started loosening her clothes, Gleb let her be. Her wool skirt was sodden and slapped to the floor in a heavy heap. Next her undercoat and scarf, and she could hear pots moving around and water being pumped into them. A glance in the mirror showed that she was a fright, hair plastered down and her lips white. Her blue eyes were too bright in her pale face with no warmth for balance.

“Towels are there in the cabinet. Here,” he set a steaming tea kettle by the door and took her clothes. “You can use this.”

Anya used the basin to wash and wrapped her hair in a towel. It wasn’t much, but she was warmer and certainly cleaner than she’d been in days. It was dangerous to wash when the weather was turning.

She accepted a robe and a quilt he slipped through the door. The robe was warm and whole, and the blanket was soft with age and had places where the mismatched fabrics were cut by the threads that held it together. Surely an officer would have better finery?

In her bare feet and clutching his robe around her, Anya opened the washroom door and caught Gleb arranging food on a plate, her clothes carefully hanging near the stove to dry.

“I’m sorry, I interrupted your supper.”

“No! No, I already ate. I had some extra. Come and eat.” Anya did, eating her fill until her stomach warned her to stop. Gleb fussed over her, tucking the quilt over her legs, then went to the cooker, heating potfulls of water and his kettle again. “I’ll, uh, make tea.”

He left for the washroom and returned a moment later, his hair suspiciously smooth and combed. “How did you get caught in this storm, Anya?”

She shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“It’s not a joke,” Gleb turned stern. Perhaps a touch fearful. “The first storms can be the most dangerous. People aren’t ready and don’t realize how long they can last.”

Stern did not suit him; not without the medals, at least. Anya thought back to one morning in the square. “I thought you did not think of the weather.”

Whatever severity had been there, relief swept away. “You frightened me.” A small smile. The one he offered when he had a treat. “You must be feeling better if you can tease me.” He set a cup of tea in front of her and Anya immediately cupped her hands around it.

“I think I should tease you no matter how I felt.”

Gleb looked away quickly and took his tea with him to stand by a window. He looked out and shook his head. “I can’t let you go back out tonight, even when your things are dry. I’ll only need a blanket or two and I can sleep by the stove.”

“I can’t take your bed, Gleb.”

“You need it. You need to keep warm tonight.”

After Gleb washed the few dishes and put things away, he went to fetch blankets from the chest in his bedroom and wash up for bed. Anya sat by the warm stove and stretched her toes, no longer wax-white from the cold. Her face was warm too, so she would not look so haunted. The ghost who walked across Russia only to risk freezing by the Neva.

Anya ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it into something acceptable. If Gleb had made an effort, so could she. He gave her a shy smile and laid out a small rug, then stacked a few blankets on a chair next to Anya. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out of the way in a few minutes.” He took a pot of hot water into the washroom and moments later Anya heard water splashing.

Experience had taught her that a meal before sleep kept bad dreams away. It also taught her that few things were as generous as a shared hearth and food. While Anya was hardly a woman of loose morals, she was not immune to generosity. Morality had little to do with it anyway; when your goal was survival, the means hardly mattered, and comfort was as valuable as food.

Still chilled, but warmer than she’d felt in days, Anya waited until there was a pause in the splashing. Gleb deserved her consideration, so it was only when she heard tapping on the sink and the sounds of his things being reordered that she set the quilt aside and approached.

The door was well oiled and did not squeak when she opened it.

“Anya!” Gleb was toweling his face when he saw her and startled. The edges of his cuffs were wet. “Did you need something?”

In the mirror, she caught sight of herself. Pale lips, but warm cheeks. Eyes bright with purpose. “No, I am very well. Don’t let me interrupt.”

He was lean in the way soldiers were. Strong and economical. Able to miss a meal or two without weakness, but had obviously known hunger. Everyone had. There were ghosts everywhere and that was why a little comfort went further than coin these days.

She stepped closer to him. Close enough to see where the shirt clung to him. “Your shirt is wet, Gleb.”

His breathing was louder. It bounced off the tiled walls. “I put it back on. I didn’t want to offend you.”

The fabric was translucent where it was wet and Anya lightly plucked at it. “It’s cold. You shouldn’t wear wet things to bed.” He was warm and the shirt would be dry soon, but that was not the point.

Gleb had gone very still but for his rapid breaths and his dark, searching eyes. Eyes that watched her so often from across a square watched her now in the glass, peeping at his edges, her head by his shoulder.

Her hands on his sides. “Let me help you, Gleb.” Slowly she reached around him in a loose hug from behind. Watching in the mirror, as his eyes glazed for just a moment, her fingers reached the top button and went to slip it free.

“Anya,” he said, and stopped her hands. “You don’t owe me anything. I won’t take from you.”

He was kinder than anyone could be allowed to know. Anyone but her. Others got his scowls and speeches but she got his smiles and chocolates.

“You aren’t taking, Gleb. I’m giving.”

His hold on her hands remained, but was not so strong. “I didn’t expect–”

“Shhh, Gleb,” she whispered by his ear. They were alone, and though the walls were thick a whisper says more than a shout and travels over the skin, into the bones. Like a benevolent twin to the violent cold howling outside.

Both could rattle the nerves.

Maybe it was a testament to how much he liked her, or perhaps it was just inexperience. Whichever it was, he did not strip hastily, did not leap at her, all hands and grabs.

She opened her arms.

Once, while traveling, Anya had fallen into a river and clutched a floating branch until she reached the shore. The cold had clenched her lungs and she nearly didn’t make it. The ghosts came that night, singing sadly.

Perhaps Gleb was drowning and that was why he held her the way he did. A kiss at her forehead, then her temple, then he lifted her hand to his cheek and pressed it to his lips. Anya shivered.

“You are still too cold, little sunshine,” he said as he rubbed her hands between his.  He led her to the bed and laid the well-loved quilt over it and tucked a brick he’d warmed on the stove at the end for her feet.  

“Thank you, Gleb.”

When she was tucked in, Gleb knelt at her side.  “Good night, my Anya.”

“Good night.”

There were no ghosts that night.

…

The next morning found her clothes stiff and dry. Anya shook them out and dressed, and after a few bites of bread with Gleb, collected her broom from the doorway.

She left first. It would not do to walk together so early, and an hour later, Anya was sweeping the square. She was a little stiff from the previous day, but the Gleb’s bed had been warm, and the cold had not quite yet chased it from her bones yet.

“A fine morning, comrade.” He was bright and pink lipped despite the damp chill. Like a grin was fighting to break through the stern looks he kept for the day.

Anya smiled. Gleb’s voice was never this tender when he gave his speeches.

“It is,” she returned. “You should be cautious with your cheer, comrade. Someone might think you too happy for a good Russian.”

Gleb suppressed a smile now. The one he saved for her. “A good Russian loves the winter.” He was about to turn when he stopped, looking back. “Will I see you again, Anya?” he asked quietly.

She pushed her broom, shifting one mess closer to another. It was early in winter, who knew what it might bring?

Anya offered a little smile. “I’m here every day.”

…

There, Pure Anon!  I hope you enjoyed it!  

[-this-dizzy-dreamer-]

Colleagues and Cocktails (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Coworker!Sebastian Stan x Plus-size!Reader AU

Summary: When you get moved up to a new department at work you can’t help but dread every aspect of it, that is until you find yourself expecting one of your co-workers to walk through the door every day. Then you realize it might not be as bad as you thought. But the thing is he doesn’t seem to notice you at all. All he seems to give you are daydreams and interesting chats with your best friend.

Warnings: Language, Smut.

Word Count: 2.5K

Enjoy!

At exactly 6 in the afternoon, you arrived home to hear your television playing inside your apartment and shoes already outside the door. You laughed to yourself since by now you should have known your best friend would be over before you’d even arrive. Elizabeth could never wait to hear your gossip, but then again you could never wait to tell it to her either.

“Hey, girl! Sorry I got here so early. I couldn’t wait. On the bright side, I put the drinks in the fridge when I got here!”, she said as you put your things down on the couch beside her.

“It’s ok Liz, it’s a good thing you did get here before me. I have so much to tell you, but let me go shower first and then I’ll tell you over pizza. Order it, yea?”

“Of course, the usual with jalapenos, right?”

“Duh! Oh and get cheese fries too!” You said as you headed to your room to pick out some sweats and a tee.

You then made your way to the bathroom for a much needed soothing hot shower. Opening your phone to play some music while you showered you noticed an unopened notification in your email again.

sstan01: So how was it? Want to quit yet?

coffeelover04: Haha it’s not that bad. I think I could stay til I retire or you know die from staying late at the office and being murdered by some ghost or something. Whichever comes first.

After a minute without a reply and remembering the water had been running for a while now you finally stepped into the shower. Just as Billie Eilish’s Ocean Eyes started playing you had started conditioning your long jet black hair. For some reason, as you sang along you couldn’t help thinking about elevator guy and his beautiful blue eyes. He had seemed like such a jerk, but you couldn’t lie to yourself that was totally your type. Tall and brooding. You loved the idea of them being nice just for you. But then again, Sebastian seemed pretty cool too. He was nice. But maybe you could try talking to elevator guy, right? I mean it wouldn’t hurt if anything maybe just having him under you would be enough, or on top whichever he preferred…

“Damn it (Y/N), he’s a coworker you can’t go messing with him, besides he wouldn’t be interested in you.”

Once you had finished your shower and taken your head out of the gutter, the pizza arrived. You pulled out two wine glasses and the bottle that had chilled in the fridge and settled yourself on the floor next to Liz who was sprawled out on the couch.

“Alright, spill! How was it? You didn’t find anyone to replace me, right?”She said taking a slice of pizza.

“Of course not, loser. No one else in this whole universe could possibly stand me and all my shit. But I mean, it wasn’t bad or anything. I was a little underdressed, and by a little I mean a lot everyone was literally in like business casual shit and here I was in a tee and leggings, I almost died of embarrassment on the inside. And when I was going in I forgot my ID and some dude didn’t hold the elevator door for me and he made me almost spill my coffee and then I couldn’t find a phone to actually work with for over half an hour and I didn’t finish all of my work for today too, sooo...yea.”

“Was he at least cute?”

“Is that really all you heard?” Laughing you shook your head. “He was alright.”

“Alright, what does “alright” mean? It’s a yes or no answer.” She said shoving you slightly.

“Fine. Fine. Yes, he’s cute, alright? Well, maybe a little more than cute, happy?!”

Elizabeth let out something between a screech and what sounded like a wounded animal cry. Startling you just enough to make you drop some cheese on your shirt from your fries.

“Are you okay?”

YOU JUST CALLED SOMEONE CUTE. YOU TOTALLY HAVE A CRUSH!"

"It's not the first time I call someone cute."

"Besides me. I didn't know you had feeling OMG who are you. Where is my best friend?"

"Stop ok. It's not a big deal."

"Uh, yea it is. This calls for bottle number 2 to come out."

"Dude no I have work tomorrow morning and like I said it's no big deal."

“Uh yes, it is.”

As Liz was coming back with the second bottle you decided to check your notifications.

sstan01: lol glad to hear, even though that was oddly specific????

coffeelover04: Omg, so sorry. That probably sounded super weird. I’ve been on a supernatural binge and I’ve been drinking. Haha..ha I’m sorry.

“Who are we texting?” Liz plopped back down on the couch handing you your glass and looking at the messages over your shoulder. “sstan01? Who’s that? A tinder match? You’re still on that?”

“Dude no he’s not a tinder match, although I am still on it, that’s not important right now.” You almost chugged the wine n your glass remembering how you told yourself you were going to delete tinder a week ago. “He’s from work, I think.”

sstan01: Really now? Drinking on a Thursday? All alone, without me? Haha, jk. It’s ok don’t worry about it, it’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard.

“You think?? What do mean you think??”

“ Well it’s from a work email, so it has to be someone who works with me.” You shrugged in defeat as Liz questioned you.

coffeelover04: Yes really. And I’m not alone I have a friend over. And I don’t know what to tell you about it not being the weirdest thing. Unless of course, you’d like to share what that thing is lol. Are we on that level yet, stranger?

“But it’s your personal email, how could he have gotten that?”

“Liz, I don’t know. I mean it’s on my resume...he could have gotten it from there? Why does it matter I don’t even really know this guy.”

“Exactly! Are you hearing yourself right now?” Said, Liz, as she playfully smacked your head. “You don’t know this man, but somehow he has your personal email?”

“Liz he’s not going to turn out to be a serial killer. He’s nice.”

“Again, are you hearing yourself? They’re always nice!”

sstan01: Oh, drinking with a friend? I’m going to let you go then. Could tell you my old man stories another time.

“ (Y/N)! See, old man stories! He’s a gross old man.”

“Ok, you’ve had enough to drink.” You say laughing and taking Liz’s glass. “You can crash here for the night and I’ll make us breakfast in the morning. Sound good?”

coffeelover04: Just my best friend, but alright. I’ll hold you accountable to those stories lol goodnight!

“Sounds great!” She said as she put away the half-empty bottle and pulled out the bed inside the couch, which you had bought exactly for these occasions. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight.”

Heading to your room you checked your phone one last time before plugging it in to charge.

sstan01: Anytime you want to hear them just let me know. Goodnight (Y/N)!

There was no way he could be a creepy old man, right? He had to be from work and most of them were pretty young looking, well at least those you’ve seen. Maybe you were overthinking it and had too much to drink too. It was best to just sleep on. So, slipping into bed you curled up and found yourself thinking about elevator guys deep blue eyes.  

All of a sudden you could feel him against you. Wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Feeling his breath warm on your neck making your hair stand. You couldn’t help but whimper softly as you felt him push closer to you. Turning around you face those gorgeous blue eyes.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

His hands trailed up your back and through your hair to your face. He caressed your cheek softly and began to pull you in.

“I think I love you (Y/N)...(Y/N)”

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!, Dude come on you said you’d make me breakfast….” Liz slowly came to view as you opened your eyes.

“God damn it, Liz, fine...gimme a sec. You know I was pretty content sleeping.”

“Yea I saw you were all smiley, it was a little unsettling.” She laughed as she shoved you toward your bathroom door. “But no time for that you have 2 hours before you have to go to work and I want food.”

“ Ok, but don’t start without me, I don't want you burning my apartment down.”  

Quickly putting your hair up and brushing your teeth you planned out your morning in your head.

1. Quick breakfast. Pancakes and eggs. Maybe bacon?

2. Change for work. Do you have work clothes?

3. Find sunglasses. This headache is going to kill you if I don’t.

4. Find keys. Probably on the couch.

Walking into the kitchen you could already hear Liz cursing the stove.

“ Come on stupid thing turn on already....”

“I’m here you can stop pretending you don’t know how my stove works.” Laughing you start the stove and start pouring in the pancake mix Liz made. “If you want some you can take out some bacon and eggs.”  

After breakfast, which took a lot longer than what you had anticipated, you started to look for an outfit and maybe even your sunglasses altogether. Finally after trying on 3 of the 4 dress pants you owned you decided on the only ones that did go over your thunder thighs and a nice light blue dress shirt.  

“Hey, you start work at 8, right? It’s 7:15.”

“Shit, ok can you do my hair please?”

Hurrying out of your room and into a chair you pulled out your phone and debated whether or not to let Jessica know you would be late.

“ I can still make it right?”

“ Yea, totally”, said Liz tugging at your hair “ If you quit moving like a five-year-old.”

Sitting still you decided to just convince yourself you wouldn’t be late. Plus finding your sunglasses could be put aside and you were pretty sure you were now sitting on your keys so everything would be fine.

“ Done, simple, but cute braided half up half down do”

“ Thanks, I owe you one. Help yourself to food if your staying and lock up when you leave! I love you!” Grabbing your bag and keys you made your way to your car as your phone went off.

sstan01: Good morning, are you getting coffee for everyone today or are you just late?

You decided to answer later because well, you were late and time wasn’t going to freeze at 7:55 just because you wanted it to. As you got to the office you make sure you had everything before you got out of the car this time and you prayed no one would see you or at least call out the fact that you're late.

Coffeelover04: Very funny, actually just walking in. Little hungover, but nothing serious.

Seb couldn't stop thinking about last night. you had told him you were with a friend and his mind raced. Were you on a date? Did you have a boyfriend or girlfriend? He had to remind himself that he barely knew you and was in no place to ask you. Plus you had said you were with your best friend, so why was he worrying? Or why did he even care? Maybe it had been because he had had someone over last night too, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do more with that girl other than kiss her once. He didn’t know why he had never had that problem before. He was charming and it had always worked in his favor. So why hadn’t he been able to turn on his charm last night with that girl? And why did he to this moment still feel a pang of jealousy in his gut. You weren’t the type of girl he usually chased, but for some reason, he was drawn to the mess you were. But he couldn’t let himself fall for you, especially not now that he had been promoted too with a new office and everything. But he still had a pretty good view of your desk, with the wall being clear glass and all, which you weren’t in yet and it was already 8:15.

Walking in you slowly tipped toed across Jessica at the front desk just as elevator guy walked in clearing his throat. You couldn’t help, but blush as you thought back to the dream you had and how good he looked in a full suit. He looked so serious and his face was just too captivating, the way his eyes searched the office and his tongue licked his lips before he spoke.

“Good Morning everyone. Just wanted to let you all know that al data is due at the end of the day, no matter what time you come in.” You hadn’t been too sure, but it was like he was directing that last bit to you, but he had no way of knowing you had just gotten there, right? You started walking back to your desk and as you got there noticed Jessica following close behind.

“ You know if you had warned a gal I could have covered for you.”

“ I’m sorry Jess, I promise I’ll let you know next time. Not that I promise they’ll be a next time or anything.”

“Don’t stress over it, love. But tell me what was all of that with Mr. Boss man?”

“ What are you talking about?”

“ (Y/N) dear, I saw you blushing and eyeing the boss when he told us about data.”

“ Wait….the boss? Jess no he can’t be the boss!”

“Oh but he is, just got promoted yesterday. Maybe if you had stayed till the end of the day you would have found out or at least came in on time today.” Jessica said as she walked off smiling to herself.

sstan01: Glad to see you finally made it. Seems like you’ve got a record of coming in late and it’s only your second day.

coffeelover04: Thanks, but don’t judge me ok? Pretty sure you aren’t Mr. Perfect.

Seb smiled to himself as he read your message in his office. Oh if you only knew.

Again, feedback is much-appreciated guys! ~xoxo~

[mythmica]

Ezra’s Day

Surprise! So this is my @rebelsgiftexchange submission for @redrikki! (Sorry it took a bit, irl stuff got in the way and I wanted to make sure it was perfect (especially since this is the first fic I’ve done lol) before posting.  Hope you like it!

A/N: So for this fic I thought it’d be interesting to see how another “Empire Day” later down the storyline would have turned out. This is set around season 3.

Word Count: 1746

"Ezra."

The boy looked up at his father, who knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder.

The man lowered his voice. "We have to stand up for people in need. Especially those in trouble with the Empire." he gestured towards the stormtroopers in the distance, and then at the frightened faces of the crowd. "Remember, if we don't stand up, who will?"

Ezra tightened his grip on his father's hand before looking away. He blinked. Suddenly, the sky was overcast, and the plaza was empty.

"I'm proud of you, son." he turned back to his father and gasped. His face, previously youthful, had suddenly aged, and streaks of grey marked his hair.

Ezra tugged his hand away and stepped back, trembling. "Dad?"

He smiled sadly. "Remember, son. No matter what, stay strong…” Ezra's vision began to darken.

"And have hope.”

.

Ezra woke up with a start, sitting up to check his surroundings.

He was still on his bunk. It was dark and the room was quiet, save for Zeb's light snores below him. He exhaled and lay back down.

It had been a while since he had a dream about his parents. Not since he found out that they were gone for good. He rubbed at the tears in his eyes before closing them.

Figures, considering what today is, he thought bitterly.

Empire day. His birthday. No matter how old he got, no matter how much he tried to forgot the so called "holiday", each year the day was a painful reminder to what he'd lost. And a couple of years ago, he'd probably still be on the streets, hungry, alone, and afraid, under the empire's tight fist in capitol city.

But things had changed. He'd found a new family, and new hope as they inspired and taught him to fight back against the Empire's tyranny.

He wasn't a loth rat who only looked out for himself anymore. He was a rebel. And thanks to Kanan, he was a jedi.

Ezra smiled for a moment before frowning. His recent birthdays hadn't gone too well. He had just turned fifteen on the day the crew got mixed up in a mission to get Tseebo off Lothal. On his sixteenth the crew had split up for separate missions.

Today he turned seventeen, and he couldn't help but hope for today to be mission-free, or for Hera to at least have a simple one planned.

After trying (and failing) to go back to sleep, he slowly made his way off his bunk and trudged to the kitchen, where he poured himself some water and sat at the table. Hopefully Chopper wasn't lurking around- he wasn't in the mood to deal with the grumpy droid, and he didn't want to risk having him alert the rest of the crew that he was up this early.

Yawning, he propped his head up the table and debated brewing some caf. Might as well, since he didn’t want to risk another dream like that. He finished the water and began rummaging in the cabinets.

“Bit early to be making breakfast, isn’t it?”

Ezra jumped, and then grinned sheepishly as Kanan walked in. "I was just planning on making some caf. Sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't." he answered. "At least, not because you were making noise."

Guilt tugged at him. Kanan could always tell when something was up, and Ezra had been so distracted by the dream that'd he had forgotten to shield himself through the force- which means his fear and stress was what alerted him to his padawan's status.

"The caf can wait. It's not a good idea this early anyway." he strode past him to take a seat at the table. “So, what’s bothering you?”

Ezra sighed and poured two glasses of water before walking over to the table. He offered the glass to Kanan, who accepted it, before sitting across from him.

“Bad dream.”

“Because of today?”

“Yeah. Long live the Empire, huh?” Ezra picked at the table. “With how long it’s been it’s sure starting to feel like it will live forever.”

Kanan frowned. “Kid. I know today’s hard for you.” He sighed.  “It is for all of us. But you know what helps me?” He set the glass down. “Looking at how much things have changed. Sure, the Empire’s still around. But so is the Rebellion. And we’re part of something much bigger now than it was a couple of years ago.” He grinned. “So things will change, ok? Just gotta have hope.”

Ezra smiled. “You’re right. But...it’s still just-“

“-Hard. I know. And it’s ok to feel down about it. Especially since it’s your birthday, and I know you’re probably thinking about your parents right?” he said softly. “Is that what the dream was about?”

Kanan felt a spike of sadness from his padawan and continued. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, alright? Just know that I’m here for you. We all are.”

There was a pause. “Even Chopper?”

The man laughed. “Even Chopper. Well, most of the time.”

Ezra chuckled before swallowing the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Kanan. For everything. It means a lot.”

“Anytime. And thank you too, ok?”

His brows furrowed. “What for?’

Kanan downed the glass of water before continuing. “For how you’ve changed and helped me as well, along with the rest of the crew. No matter what feelings today brings, just remember that we’re glad to have met you. Ok?”

Ezra reached up to rub at his eyes. “Ok.”

Kanan stood up and put both empty glasses away before returning and patting the boy’s shoulder. “Now try get some rest. It’ll help.”

Ezra nodded and stood up, turning to leave before stopping. “Kanan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know if Hera has anything major planned for today? Not that that would be a problem!” he stammered, “I just want to know how busy today will be.

Kanan paused to think. “I don’t think so. I mean, no missions that I know of. I’ll check with her later.”

Ezra exhaled. “Ok. Good night- er, Good morning.”

He chuckled. “Good night, Ezra.”

Kanan waited until he left before speaking up again. “You can come out now.”

Shuffling was heard before Hera appeared in the doorway, yawning. “Everything ok?”

He nodded. “Yeah. He’ll be fine. Today’s always a bit hard for him. How much did you hear?”

“Only a bit at the end. Thought it’d better to let you handle it. And to answer his question, we’ve got a free day, shockingly enough. No missions and all the errands and chores are done. So we’ve got all day to carry out Sabine’s plan.” she smiled.

Kanan smiled back. While the crew couldn’t change the bad memories today brought for Ezra, they could at least help him make some good ones.

.

Later that day the Ghost crew began preparing for Sabine’s plan in the common area.

Zeb groaned loudly. “Argh, when’s that kid gonna wake up? The day’ll probably be over by the time we get done waiting.”

“Keep it down, will you?” Sabine shushed him. “It’s not that late yet anyways.”

Kanan tapped the table. “He didn’t get that much sleep last night, Zeb. Give him a break.”

Chopper grumbled loudly.

“No Chopper, you’re not going to wake him up.” Hera rolled her eyes. “Knowing you you’d probably shock him.”

“You’re definitely right about that.” Ezra called out from the hall before walking in the room. “Although the chatter woke me-“ he stopped as he took in the room.

“Surprise!” the group shouted.

Ezra blinked as he looked around. There was a banner decorated in blue paint that spelled out “Happy Birthday Ezra!”, surrounded in little drawings. Probably Sabine’s handiwork. The table was covered in food, including some treats and fruits Ezra recognized from Lothal. There were also some boxes stacked up in the seat across from Kanan.

Ezra took a bit to absorb everything before speaking. “Guys… what-”

Hera walked up and put an arm around his shoulders. “We thought we’d surprise you with a little party today. I know your birthdays haven’t always been very happy, but we wanted to at least help cheer you up,” she nodded at Sabine. “It was Sabine’s idea.”

Ezra turned to look at her and she grinned.

“Sabine, I-“ he swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled. “Thank you. All of you.”

“Don’t thank us yet, kid, wait till we finish all this grub!” Zeb yelled reaching for the table.

The rest of the day was spent eating, laughing, talking. There were even stories, Hera recalling how she met Kanan, Zeb boasting about his achievements from when he was in the Honor Guard.

Then came the gifts. Ezra couldn’t remember the last time he’d celebrated a birthday, much least received a birthday gift.

A new helmet from Zeb.

A necklace with a stone pendent from Hera.

A couple of credits from Chopper. (He suspected they were probably from Hera.)

A painting of the entire Ghost crew from Sabine.

And a journal from Kanan. It was half empty, the first half being full of messages written by each of the team along with drawings, jokes, and other things. “For when you’re feeling down or we’re all separated on missions and whatnot.” he explained. “Figured it might help.”

Ezra set the journal down next to the other gifts and brushed his eyes before looking up. “I- I don’t know what to say.” he laughed.

Sabine put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok. We just wanted to help make today a bit brighter. Did it work?”

Ezra grinned. “Yeah. It really did. Thank you.”

.

Soon enough they all left to get ready for bed, each wishing Ezra happy birthday again before they left. Now it was just him and Kanan once again.

But before Ezra turned to head back to his cabin after saying goodnight, Kanan spoke up again. “Ezra.”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you. We all are. You’ve grown so much as a rebel, as a jedi , and as a good person. Your parents would be proud.

Ezra was unable to stop from letting his tears spill this time, and hugged his master after stammering out his thanks.

He wouldn’t remember today as a painful reminder of what he had lost. Instead he would remember what he had now. A new family, a new sense of strength, and a new hope.

[barpurplewrites]

Keep an open mind - Chapter 2

Chapter One (HERE)

-x-x-x-

For a first day on a new job it had gone well. Jefferson had let her have free reign, only stepping in to ask her for a few specific shots when they were filming the research stage. Gold had been easy to work with, he’d made a few suggestions, but never once compared her to their old cameraman and the only frustration he’d shown had been at honking cars. Belle suspected that he was a dog person, because the pooch that messed up one shot had been fussed over and called a ‘Good Doggie’.

It had been ordinary, which Belle had been expecting, because what were the chances she would film a ‘real’ ghost?

They’d wrapped for the day and headed to a quiet local bar, that was cheap and cosy. It was the sort of place that only locals would know about, which confused Belle since Jefferson had said they’d never been in Springfield before.

“We always let Ariel scout out the bar in a new town. She’s got a sixth sense for finding the best places.”

Belle sipped her beer, and was impressed, Ariel certainly had a skill. As he’d promised Gold had bought the first round, although he did pull a face at having to order a cocktail that came with an umbrella, sparkler and a lobster swizzle stick for Jefferson.

“I order the wildest drink on the menu when Gold is paying, anything other than beer or scotch offends his delicate Scottish alcohol sensibilities, one of these days he’s going to break the rules and refuse to order my drink.”

“What are the rules for this thing?”

Gold sat down opposite Belle, his glass of beer looking very plain next to Jefferson’s cocktail; “Have you ever noticed how the last person to arrive is the one who says, ‘Are we ready to start’, like the rest of you haven’t been hanging around while they got their arse in gear? We formalised that, so if you are last on site, you have to say something like that, and then the first round is on you.”

It was a simple little ritual that obviously kept tempers level, knowing that whoever was late had to buy the first round would do that for a crew. Belle had worked on a few jobs that would have benefited for a similar arrangement.

“Is there a penalty for not ordering a drink if it’s your round?”

Ariel laughed; “You have to streak around the motel parking lot. None of us three have done it. Yet, but Jefferson keeps trying to catch Gold out.”

“I’ve still not worked out why Jeff is so keen to see my saggy pale arse jiggling in the cold, but he is a man on a mission.”

Jefferson plucked the umbrella from his drink and tucked it behind his ear; “A man is entitled to his foibles, now to the real business of the evening, the interrogation of the newbie.”

Belle raised an eyebrow and set her pint down; “Okay, let’s do this.”

She’d worked with Jefferson before and knew ‘interrogation’ was a chilled getting to know you twenty questions type thing. He’d once fired a sound engineer on the spot because he insisted on asking new female staff personal, or sexual questions. There would be no pressure to answer anything she was uncomfortable with.

Ariel kicked off with; “What’s your dream film job?”

“I’d love to film theatre. Broadway musical, or an RSC performance, especially at the Globe in London.”

That lead them into a conversation about the challenges of such a job. Ariel pointed out that sound levels could be a nightmare with a cast who were used to projecting for the stage. Gold liked the idea of a whole film focused off the main action, so the audience could enjoy all the bits they might have missed.

Jefferson fired the next question at her; “Pets, you got any? If not, what would you have?”

Gold frowned; “That’s two questions Jeff.”

“Nope! It’s a question with two parts, totally different.”

Belle was so busy giggling at the way Jefferson and Gold bickered like an old married couple that she forgot she had a question to answer until Gold twirled a hand at her.

“Oh right, I own fifty per cent of a cat.”

Ariel wrinkled her nose; “Just to be clear; are you co-parent to a fur-baby, or do you own,” – she made a chopping gesture with her hand, - “half a cat?”

“Ick no. My neighbour and I share Bilbo.”

Gold gave her that wonky smile of his; “Bilbo? Let me guess, he alternates between houses for breakfast and second breakfast?”

“Yep, and every other meal he can wrangle out of us. Eleanor and I have to co-ordinated on his feeding or he’s going to end up a contender for the fattest cat world record.”

While Jefferson went to get the next round of drinks Belle showed Ariel and Gold some pictures of Bilbo on her phone. Ariel cooed and declared a desperate need to pet the ‘darling little ball of fuzz’, while Gold nodded at the screen and asked; “Is that Eleanor?”

It wasn’t the most flattering picture of Eleanor since Bilbo had been sat on her shoulder and decided to flick his tail across her face just as Belle clicked. She’d ended up with a cat tail moustache that had made her laugh so much the picture was a bit blurred.

“Yup, that is my very own living Beatles song neighbour and co-cat owner.”

Gold cocked his head and frowned before he snapped his fingers; “Eleanor Rigby. Wow.”

Belle took her pint from Jefferson and decided to get this bit out of the way early on; “She’s a fan of the show and of you Gold, can I do the awkward request bit?”

He blinked at her, a total lack of understand on his face. Jefferson huffed and rolled his eyes; “She wants an autograph, or a picture. Please try to remember you are the star of our little production, old chap.”

“Oh shite, right, yeah we can do that for her, or you can take a picture now and I’ll type her a message?”

Ariel leaned into Belle and stage whispered; “He just doesn’t want you to see his chicken scratch of a signature. God help you if you have to read any notes he’s written, spider scrawl with numbers scattered in.”

Gold gave her a mock-scowl and then shrugged; “Aye, canne deny that one, at least not with a clean conscious. So, picture and neatly typed message?”

Belle held her phone up ready to snap a picture. She’d noticed today that it took Gold a moment to slip into his on-screen face. She waited and then he grinned and raised his pint. She snapped the shot and handed him the phone.

“That one okay?”

“Bloody hell. Jeff needs to pay you more. You make me look damn good.”

Gold was not a speed texter, he carefully jabbed each letter with one finger which twirled around as he searched for the next letter. Belle smothered her giggle in her pint as his tongue poke out of the corner of his mouth.

“Here, check it and send it.”

Belle took her phone from him and laughed at the message he had typed.

“Hi Eleanor, Bilbo’s other mother tells me you are a fan. Here’s hoping your nights are ghost bump free, Gold xx”

Jefferson spluttered into his drink; “You realise how filthy that sounds?”

“What? No, it doesn’t. Does it?”

“Too late sent it!”

Gold’s lips moved as he went over the message he had typed. He groaned and dropped his head; “Oh no. I’m sorry. I’ve been working with Jeff too long, I’m numb to double entendres now.”

With his head still down, his arm shot out and covered Jefferson’s mouth with his hand. Jefferson played up the affronted hurt and then laughed; “Okay, Gold’s question for our Belle.”

Gold lifted his head and brushed his hair back with both hands. He looked Belle in the eye and said; “Do you believe in ghosts?”

[missmeikakuna]

Vocaloid fanfic- The Librarian and the Maybe-Bisexual Bookworm Ch. 1

This is a fanfic I wrote for Vocaloid Amino for a previous Pride Month and thought I'd post it here. Rated: T Fandom: Vocaloid Relationship: Yukari x IA Relationship Type: F/F Description: Yukari is a hardworking student who manages to balance her studies with her relationship with a boy. Things start to change when she meets her high school's young, beautiful new librarian IA. Yukari asks her to help her find a lesbian-themed novel like one she's read and all goes well until she realises she might be more like the characters in those novels than she thought.

Chapter one: Self-discovery is like finding a book in a new genre.

The library was quiet as usual, and Yukari couldn’t be more mad.

Exams were looming over everyone. Or maybe just her since no one was here studying. No groaning over a difficult question, no asking friends for help, not even distracted chatter about the latest meme. It was just her and the librarian.

Yukari brought a chunky book to the back of the room and rang the bell. She would wonder how anyone could hear its tiny tinkle, but then she remembered that no one was here to drown out the sound with inane conversation.

The room was so quiet that the next sound almost caused Yukari to drop her book. In the room behind the librarian’s desk, dozens of books thudded the ground. Yukari heard a squeak of pain.

A moment later, a woman who barely looked older than Yukari opened the door and made her way to the desk, straightening her uniform and wiping the books’ dust off her shoulders. Her blonde, almost pink hair was so long that Yukari could only see a part of it as the rest of it disappeared behind the desk. Her smile was small but somehow dimples were visible on her chubby cheeks. Despite those cheeks, the rest of her body was so thin she seemed more like a wisp of light than a real person grounded in this reality. Her unbelievably pale skin added to this impression.  Her big eyes were the colour of harvestbells and the more Yukari described this girl in her head, the more she realised that she was standing there staring at this person she was 55% sure didn’t really exist.

“Sorry for the wait. Are you looking to borrow a book?” 

Maybe she did exist.

The woman’s voice caressed Yukari’s ears. The library was designed specifically not to echo and yet the woman’s voice seemed to echo on its own. It was high-pitched, but less in a nasal way and more in an operatic way, though even in this empty room it didn’t sound loud enough to fill a theatre.

Yukari gulped and looked down. “Uh, I was actually wondering if you had any recommendations. I’m looking for a novel similar to this one.” She raised her head. “I’m still doing school work, I swear! I won’t read it until after exams are done.”

The woman’s giggles embraced Yukari. “It’s okay. I won’t judge.” The woman’s eyes somehow managed to grow even wider. “Oh, and, uh, I’m kind of new here. First day. I don’t really know enough of what’s here to make any recommendations.”

“Oh, um…. I guess I’ll just...” Yukari said, throwing the book in the returns box and galloping away.

“Wait!” The woman called out. Yukari did as she commanded. “Um, what did you like about this book? I could recommend something I’ve read and see if it’s here.”

Yukari’s cheeks changed from the paleness of ghosts to the bright shade of poppies. “It was… a strange book. It was about a Japanese woman meeting an Australian florist during World War One. I… I’m not gay or anything, but I was wondering if there were any other books about a romance between two women. You don’t see that too often, so it stood out.”

The woman grinned. “You’ve come to the right person! I’ve got loads of books like that in my collection.” Yukari clenched her teeth to stop her jaw from dropping. “Do you want to read another historical lesbian romance or a lesbian romance about flowers or maybe just a regular modern lesbian romance?”

It took Yukari a moment to process what she was asking as the frequent casual use of the word ‘lesbian’ threw her off.

“Oh, uh, I don’t mind.” 

The librarian leaned over her desk to get a good look at Yukari. “Hmmm…. I think ‘Rentica’ by Ikamusume Hunter would be a good fit for you.” She typed into her computer and frowned. “... and it’s not here. Sorry. Oh, um…” She lowered the volume of her voice despite no one else being there. “You could always borrow it from me. Come here after exams are done and I’ll lend it to you.”

Yukari nodded. “Thank you, miss…”

The woman laughed. “You can call me IA.”

When Yukari headed back to the table she was studying at, she heard a beep on her phone and saw a message.

Hey babe, wanna hang out tonight ;) - Roro row your boat

Yukari smiled. Roro still hadn’t changed that punny text signature even after his grades in English started slipping. She remembered the adorably awkward time he tried to explain the joke to her in Japanese.

Her smile dropped when she looked back at IA, who was struggling to keep the pile of books in her arms balanced kept dropping them.

Yukari passed all of her exams, though just barely in home ec. She headed to the library after getting her marks back.

IA chuckled and rubbed the back of her neck. “I forgot to bring it. I guess I should have been more specific about which date you should have come here. Would you be able to wait until the library closes? We can head back to my place and I can give it to you there.”

Yukari’s cheeks reddened. “Is that allowed?”

IA tilted her head to the side like a dog failing to understand a command. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Yukari grinned her concern away. 

After IA locked the library entrance, she led Yukari to her old car with bits of paint missing. Yukari pushed the take away boxes off her seat. 

IA smirked at the wheel and sped to their destination. Yukari had to hold onto the door to keep herself from accidentally ramming into it. 

IA’s house was a tiny apartment with piles of books on the floor. She somehow knew where everything was and found ‘Rentica’ with ease. It was a thin book with a ghost silhouette filled with a floral pattern on the cover.

“It’s a romance between a working woman and a strange woman she thinks might be a ghost but doesn’t know for certain. Enjoy.”

“T-thank you. So, um, I’m sorry if this is rude, but I didn’t expect you to have a car like that.”

“Oh, I like to save money wherever I can. Books don’t grow on trees. Well, actually they technically do, but not direct…. Anyway, I hope you like the book. Do you need me to drive you home?”

Yukari shook her head. “My boyfriend lives near here.”

IA had an expression Yukari never imagined seeing on her. Her smile was still there, but it was smaller and didn’t show her teeth. The outer corners of her eyes were creased and her eyebrows were furrowed. 

“Oh. Of course. I, uh, hope things go well with him.”

Silence followed. Yukari froze for a moment, then bowed and left without saying a word.

She rang Roro’s doorbell and when he didn’t open the door, she kept pressing the buzzer over and over again.

When he finally opened it, and he only partially opened it, Yukari giggled. He was wearing pyjamas that were way too big for him and his cotton candy hair was a mess.

“Good morning,” she said with a smirk.

Roro glared at her. “You saw me at school today.”

“So, uh, can I hang out for a bit?”

The boy looked behind him. “I don’t know if this is a great time. I’m kinda watching a show and it’s getting really good. You can watch it with me if you want, but it’s near the end so you might be a tad confused.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got a book I can read.”

“You came all the way here to read a book?”

Yukari chuckled. “I was already doing something near here and thought I’d drop by.”

Roro opened the door wider. “Okay, I guess.”

When they got to the living room, Roro sat down on the couch and Yukari sat on a beanbag. For the first few pages of the book she kept getting distracted by the dialogue on the show, but after that she was hooked.

She started to pick up on a few similarities between the characters and her and IA. The ghostlike girl had a similar physical description to what IA looked like and was incredibly friendly. The main character didn’t look like Yukari but had the same love of books. She was also a little shy, spending a good chunk of the story trying to muster the courage to talk to the other woman.

The writing was simple and Yukari managed to get through half of it before Roro finished his show. In fact, it just stopped after she reached the book couple’s first kiss.

Roro slid down the couch and sat next to Yukari, kissing her on the cheek. She turned her head and kissed him on the lips.

Soon enough tongue was added and both people’s breaths became louder. 

Something strange happened. After a while, Yukari forgot who she was kissing and thought about the kiss scene in the book. 

For a while she felt as if she was kissing a blonde woman with pale skin.

When she returned to reality, she pushed Roro away. Her head was spinning and her breaths quickened almost to the point of hyperventilation. 

She covered her mouth, trying to push the image of IA out of her head. She silently swore. She was familiar with these heart palpitations. They were the same as when she first started having feelings for Roro.

“Um, I… I have to go.”

“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

Yukari shook her head. “I’ll see you at school.”

She ran out of the house with her book. She raced home on foot despite knowing the long distance ahead of her.

‘I’m not a lesbian. I’m not a lesbian! I like Roro! What the hell’s wrong with me?’

When she finally reached home, she jumped on her laptop and searched, ‘how to know if lesbian’. She found a lot of stories that didn’t fit her own. Most of the girls online had always felt different but couldn’t put their finger on why. They told stories about having a boyfriend they felt nothing towards. And some of them said they had crushes on female celebrities and classmates when they were as young as eight years old.

However, one person’s advice struck a chord. ‘If you’re questioning your sexuality, you might not be gay. Consider the other labels out there, such as bisexual, asexual and pansexual.’

Such as bisexual, asexual and pansexual.

Such as bisexual.

Bisexual.

Yukari’s entire body shook. She didn’t even need to look into the other sexualities, although a tiny logical part of her thought she should. She found the word and that word made tears fall down her cheeks.

She pictured her parents towering over her, shaking their heads before disappearing. She imagined Roro crying. She could see her female classmates shuffling their chairs a few inches further away.

However, after a few seconds of sobbing she smiled. She felt as if she had been welcomed into a club. This weird girl crush may have been just that- a crush, and given her pre-existing relationship a forbidden one- but a discovery about herself was still a discovery. She felt like she had stumbled upon a book in an entirely new genre.

Yukari opened her book from where she was up to and read the rest of the story, kicking everyone from Roro and her other classmates to her parents out of her mind. It was just her and the ghostlike librarian.