#I wanna study on making them pretty fonts

[sleepycoffins-and-benhargreeves]

Ben Hargreeves

The only Umbrella to live in death And the only Sparrow left alive

Alligator Blood by Nicole Dollanganger Listen @ Spotify from the playlist Ghost Boy

[evermorehoon]

❣︎ ⎯⎯ misshapen reality

Idol pairing: jake x reader

Genre: fluff, heavy angst

Wc: 2.5k

Warnings: death, accident, injuries, mentions of marriage and weddings, too much hope, more tears than a human can create, surprise at the end!

A/N: so here's my first jake fic on this account!! And yes I chose angst because why not?? I'm a little iffy on it since it feels oddly paced but I hope you like it, feedback is highly appreciated♡♡ enjoy!!

You weren't someone who believed in true love, often thinking of it as something only in fairy-tales and fiction. Seeing the people around you fall in and out of love so easily chipped away at the thought of ever meeting that special someone.

Until you met him.

The library where you sat studying for your second year finals, it was dull and dreary. You rubbed your eyes, closing them for a few seconds before continuing to read the boring font when you felt a light tap on your shoulder. You wondered if you'd accidentally yawned too loud or something, thinking a librarian was giving you a warning.

"Are you using this?"

The low voice caused your ears to perk up, having heard it from somewhere. You turned around, being met with coffee brown eyes behind a pair of round glasses.

"The plug or the book?" Your voice came out as a whisper, somehow lost in his eyes. You could've sworn you'd seen him somewhere…

"The plug," he motioned to the laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

You gestured towards the plug against the wall, trying to bury your head in your book and not think about where you'd seen this boy.

Several minutes pass and nothing, nothing but wondering where you-

"Is something wrong?" His voice knocked you out of your thoughts. He had a genuinely concerned expression, worried he was making you uncomfortable with his presence.

"No!" You accidentally yelled out, earning an aggressive "Shh!" from a librarian. You mouthed a quick sorry before turning back to the pretty nerd in front of you. "No, it's just that I recognize you from somewhere."

"Maybe around campus?" He asked as he continued typing.

You shook your head. "I don't pay attention to people, I just wanna get to class, y'know?" You weren't sure what was coming over you. You'd never been one to start and hold a conversation with a stranger, but it seemed he didn't mind the company.

A few more minutes and you'd finally come to the conclusion that you shared two classes, with him always sitting in the middle and you right at the back. His hair was dark brown now, not much of a difference from the black hair you normally saw yet your slow brain couldn't recognize him until his hair blew out of his face.

"I'm Jaeyun," he introduced, keeping his voice low. "But you can call me Jake if you want."

After introducing yourself, a question of his origins came about. His expression and his slightly exaggerated chuckle evident he'd been asked this before way more than normal.

"You aren't mixed?" You furrowed your eyebrows, whisper-yelling in surprise as he shook his head; all he did was grow up in another country.

The few minutes turned into hours of conversation, with him somehow getting work done and you managing to understand content he could explain to you.

There was something in the way he spoke, the way he covered his mouth as he let out little laughs, the way he nodded to show he was listening, the way he'd stop typing to lean on his hand and use his index finger to pat on his plump lips in thought.

You assumed you wouldn't see each other again as you never crossed paths with people often, opting to stay at home alone where nothing could disappoint or hurt you. You didn't want to keep in contact with him, thinking he'd get bored of you like so many before him.

Yet days went by, and you found yourself in the same seat in the library with him sitting opposite you. The prettiest smile plastered on his face as he listened to you talk/whisper. He was a great study buddy, nice enough to let you borrow his laptop for a quick search for something.

He'd offered to study at a nearby coffee shop instead, wanting to have freedom to talk more, and just wanting to take you out on a date. He was too nervous and opted to ask you as a study buddy rather than potentially courting you.

But study days turned into three date nights, turned into weeks of courting and into months of dating.

You had asked him out, nervous yet excited. He couldn't contain his joy, his cheeks nearly burning from the smile on his face. His hair bounced gently as he let his puppy-like mannerisms get the better of him, hugging you happily.

The framed graduation picture of you two stayed on your side of the bed, diplomas in your hands as he placed a kiss on your cheek standing in front of the library.

Two years later, a picture of your left hand on instagram, adorning the silver engagement ring Jake had proposed to you with. It was a simple ring, with him having saved up for the wedding rings.

You talked of your future together, the two kids you planned to have, a golden retriever running alongside them. You often joked about him looking like that specific breed of dog, how he looked like his childhood companion that was now living with his parents. What fun would it be to watch Jaeyun and his future competition battle it out for the most loved golden of the family.

The wedding was set for at least another two years, searching for a house suitable to start a family in. Your combined salaries weren't very helpful when it came to property buying but you did your best.

"Two bedrooms sound good to me," you said, showing him the floorplan of the house. The backyard was a good size with a garage attached to the side of the house.

"Is it safe?" He asked. "Is it at least well centred?"

Good schools and safe neighborhoods mattered a lot to him. He wanted his children to grow up happy and have the best childhood he could offer. The house you showed him was close to perfect, residential area but with easy access to public transportation and not too far away from town. And just within your price range!

The single story house felt homey, maybe it was because of Jake. His presence made everything warm. He felt like the cuddliest hug on the coldest of winters, like a cup of coffee on a rainy day.

'Is this what love feels like?' You often wondered when you looked at him doing menial tasks like cooking ramen at 2am, humming softly. Watching him sleep on the nights where he was extra tired, seeing his chest rise and fall rhythmically, listening to his cute sleepy noises.

Marriage was right around the corner. Next stop, the rest of your lives together!

Your dress hung on the door of your closet after having your last fitting a week before the wedding. You and Jake had been staying in separate hotels close to the venue, excitement overflowing through both of you.

"No, you can't come in!" You yelled as he whined from the other side of the door. "You can't see the bride before the wedding!"

"Come on, do you really believe in that?" He asked, laughing at your cuteness.

'Doesn't matter, go away!"

"Fine," you could hear him mumbling sadly before speaking up. "It took me a while to get here, y'know?"

"I know," you giggled, leaning against the door. "I can't wait for tomorrow."

"Me neither," he smiled softly.

It seemed after you had let out a dreamy sigh, you noticed his presence was no longer there. Just a few more hours before you were officially wedded to each other, husband and wife.

It made you excited to know you’d found someone so unbelievably perfect, someone wanted by many and yet fell for you. Your life was surely brighter with him around. He filled your everyday life with love and light. The thought of sleeping was barely on the table, wanting nothing more than to marry the love of your life.

Having woken up super early, you didn’t feel an ounce of exhaustion from having barely slept. The smile on your face never left as your bridesmaids took random pictures of you for the “scrapbook” they planned for your gift. They planned to collect the pictures they took, getting Jake’s groomsmen to do the same for him.

Everybody was super excited, with everything prepared it looked like the perfect day.The guests had been seated, Heeseung - one of Jaeyun’s friends from uni - offered to play the piano for your entrance. Only he didn’t look very ready, neither wedding party did.

‘What’s taking so long?’ You stood outside the entrance of the church, wondering why no one gave you the go ahead.

“Y/n!” You heard one of your bridesmaids call out. “We have a problem…”

“What?” You wanted to let out one of those ‘what could it possibly be?’ type of laugh but it came out way more worried than it should’ve.

“We can’t find Jake.”

You seemed to blink in disbelief. ‘What?’ you thought, but it came out of your mouth in a broken tone. There was no way he suddenly got cold feet. Not when he was practically elated last night.

“We can’t reach him,” another bridesmaid came from behind her. “Jay and Sunghoon aren’t here either and we can’t reach them.”

Should you be crying? Do you even want to cry? What are you supposed to be thinking? What are you supposed to be feeling? Did he change his mind that quickly? Did Jay and Sunghoon help him ‘escape’ marrying you?

Your head began to hurt from all the swirling thoughts, trying to come up with a reason as to why he wasn’t there. He always had his phone on him and he was known to be punctual.

What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it?

“Keep trying,” you said softly. “Maybe he’s late.”

And with that, you walked down the aisle. You opted to have the veil cover your face, close to masking your empty expression. Heeseung was too busy trying to reach either of the three to play your entrance, so silence filled the air. Not long before, a wave of murmurs and whispers came as the congregation began to pity you.

Never did you think you would be stood up, left alone at the altar of all places.

After what felt like hours, you’d given up on waiting, urging the guests to enjoy the reception’s food and drinks. There wasn’t any reason to let that money go to waste, might as well let them enjoy themselves as you walked out, having handed your bouquet to your maid of honour and asking them not to follow you. You just wanted to be alone, almost as if that’s how your life was meant to be; lonely and empty.

You decided to go straight home, sitting uncomfortably in the back of the stranger’s car. It was a struggle to feel anything, let alone cry. Maybe when you were alone and drowning yourself in alcohol, you would.

You had no motivation to change, flopping yourself on the couch and ripping the veil out of your hair. You looked down at your left hand, feeling the long awaited tears well up in your eyes. You’d left your engagement ring in your hotel room, having been excited to replace it with the gold band you would’ve worn for the rest of your life.

Mere seconds later and tears finally spilled down your cheeks. Your pained cries echoed through the cold and empty house, wailing sounding like one of a widowed ghost. You didn’t expect to cry so the mascara you wore ran down your cheeks as you cried.

You cried, and you cried, and you cried until you passed out. You were sure your head would be pounding in the morning but you didn’t care. Nothing could mend your shattered heart, it was too early to tell if you would ever get over it. Most likely not.

The next morning, the after effects of drinking and crying came to bite you in the ass. The entire day felt like a blur but at least you changed out of your dress, sitting on the couch in a ball of tears and emptiness.

The queen-sized bed felt wrong to sleep in. It was cold and unwelcoming, it didn’t seem to want you to sleep in it unless Jake was with you. And he wasn’t. He left you at the altar, gutted and embarrassed and hurt. Like a discarded dog toy.

It may have been just a few days, maybe less than a few, you didn’t know. But one of your friends managed to barge her way into your house, having the only spare key.

Nothing she said seemed to stick, it seemed like her mouth was just moving.

“It was a freak accident.”

You stared at the floor of the hospital’s waiting room, blank and emotionless.

‘He was in an accident. An accident the night before his wedding. He didn’t leave me. It wasn’t his fault.’

It was the worst thing imaginable. There were multiple bystanders, each telling the same story but none of that mattered.

All you remembered was that the three were hit by something huge, too big to jump out of the way of. Jay tried to save the two, tried to push them out of the way and let it hit him first. He died on impact, with the other two managing to survive.

Sunghoon wasn’t fortunate enough as he passed away on the way to the hospital with no way to save him as he’d suffered a heavy amount of injury. Jake, the only surviving one, was put in a coma.

You wanted to offer comfort to Jay and Sunghoon’s families but the info was too much for your broken brain to even try processing that all you could do was breathe, even if it was barely. They had been good to you, Jaeyun’s same age best friends and now they were gone. You couldn’t imagine how he would feel when he woke up.

Days passed and he was still in a coma. Both families wanted him to be there for the funeral but had to go ahead with it seeing as they had no idea when he would wake up. With the two laid to rest, all you could do was wait. Sit at home and wait.

Until the news came. The long-awaited news that he was awake.

You rushed to the hospital, heart filled with relief and anxiety, tears threatening to spill from the joy knowing he was alive.

But you didn’t listen to whatever the doctor was saying. You just wanted to see him, to know he was okay.

His parents and his brother were in the room, talking to him slowly. He sustained heavy brain injury as his head hit solid ground hard enough to cause long term damage. It meant the only thing that you failed to listen to.

Upon seeing his face, his head heavily bandaged, you wanted to cry. There he was, alive and breathing. “I’m so happy you’re okay, Jaeyun, I missed you so much!”

It was a shame that his brother had to hold you back, eventually having to hold you up as Jaeyun scanned your tear-stained face.

“Who are you?”

[hua-fei-hua]

tag game from @cadriona~~ 15 questions for 15 mutuals

1. are you named after anyone? uhhh my middle name comes from like, One of my white ancestors, though i don't remember the exact tracing of the bloodline rn

2. when was the last time you cried? honestly not sure, but i feel like it was not terribly long ago. less than a month ago, i think; i can be a crybaby sometimes

3. do you have kids? legally no; biologically also no; but emotionally? the number is fathomless.

4. do you use sarcasm a lot? i don't feel like i'm a terribly sarcastic person, but many other people disagree. just today one of the kids at work asked me why i use sarcasm a lot! i think at this point my habit of "saying ridiculous things with full sincerity and then expecting people to understand that its sheer absurdity means it's a joke (but still actually doing said ridiculous thing if people call it a bluff)" is just hard for people to parse in general, but since i just roll with whatever they think i'm being, it's not a big deal.

5. what sports do you play/have played? this question is so funny bc recently i've been joking that i'm the only non-jock at my workplace, but my coworker in aquatics tried to rope me into lifeguarding for the summer when he found out i could swim, and i did marching band in high school. oh, and i took a fencing course in uni before plague.

6. what's the first thing you notice about people? their jacket, then their hair. if you change both of these things at once i might have trouble recognizing you.

7. eye color? brown. you know how dominant genes are.

8. scary movies or happy endings? for the most part happy endings, but if you're too saccharine about the beginning and middle then i'm going to wish you gave me a scary movie instead.

9. any special talents? i can do calligraphy with italic / oblique pen tips (think gothic blackletter, even tho gothic is probably one of my shittiest hands); i can burp at will still; i can touch type at around 92 wpm (certified)

10. where were you born? in a hospital <3

11. what are your hobbies? good lord that's a doozy these days. regularly i read n write fic (obviously), play genshin (still), study fandom (specifically the weeb sphere and its history), and code my shrine of cringe neocities. (and also sometimes stream any one of these things to friends) irregularly i watch youtube, keep a diary, read manga n watch anime, press flowers, do calligraphy, scanlate manga, typeset n bookbind fic (physically restrained by everyone from buying $500 worth of fonts bc Literally no one understands my font disease except other typesetters) mostly, but i have god knows how many other dormant hobbies (arranging music, editing fonts, edit videos, etc.) hiding in the cracks that i should probably just put on a resume by this point. you know how it is with adhd.

12. do you have any pets? not anymore, unless you count [pet] projects, in which case yes, the spreadsheet project abt fandom migrations in particular

13. how tall are you? abt 5'6", more specifically 166.4 cm.

14. favorite subject in school? chemistry, though i english/literature was a close second, and math (aside from geometry and statistics) is still beloved.

15. dream job? someday i'm gonna teach chemistry to a bunch of high school idiots, and i'm gonna love them all so fucking much, and i'm gonna be so fucking happy that i'm still alive.

tagging (if you want!!) @stardust-make-a-wish @reach-4-thesky @cece-0708 @yongnep @kanonavi @krackerka @isnt-it-pretty @yume-fanfare @aranarumei @italiantea and now staring at my mutuals list i have started to lose my nerve so i'll leave it at ten LOL but if you wanna do it too you can just say i tagged you ( •̀ ω •́ )y

[imnotgoinganywhereok]

Happy Sim-post Monday, everyone!! It feels good to be able to breathe and smell through my nose properly. I still have small coughing fits but other than that it’s been splendid!! Mega weird to be sick twice these past two months but I guess that’s Autumn for you... My students (or pupils) are gonna have tests this week, I’m sure they’re very happy about me coming back for that. The school stuff never stops...

[I had a paragraph about my job here but it became an embarrassingly long vent... so if you wanna see it, read it under the cut]

So, about the Owls now!! My fun with university is still here; I really was sleeping on the dormitory system, I love the uni life here (even if romanticised - I guess it’s not as cool IRL). Sure, doing projects and attending classes gets repetitive but it’s because studying just looks like that - between the classes is where the fun hides!! Darby’s Den is a pretty sweet spot for spending the entire day in, even after the classes. It’s very close, has a cafeteria if the Sims are hungry, and a library-like part if they wanna have late study sessions with other students. It’s mega cool!! I really adored how this Commons was built but - just like with the housing - I also renovated it a bit (gave it a bit of a personal touch, I suppose). Since poetry events are held there, I also made a very small place where Sims can sit and listen - of course, they prefer standing.

And this is how the trio spent their second semester. Nothing too special beside me discovering new features of the DLC and the sisters taking up new hobbies and making friends. Socialising really is fun, especially when some roommates stay for longer. Family members like to come over, even from other cities - which might be a lil weird, especially if they don’t have too high a relationship with each other. By the way, earning money by delivering lectures is not worth it in the long run (takes lots of time, gives back little money), but it’s a way to pass time too. Debora certainly likes to teach about Fitness to get others into it. Gizela reads poems in her spare time - not surprising, considering her love for Writing. Blanka still tries to get her first win at a ping-pong game.

Speaking of school stuff!! No, we’re not talking about the Owls yet, hold on. You can skip this paragraph no problem. I need to talk about this - even if it means I’m writing for myself. I just wanna say that I had a revision with my students and the state of Polish education is baffling. This is nothing new for us Polish folk but the thing is that many people really are becoming dumber and dumber. They’re in high school, first graders. We were revising Present Perfect. You could never tell me a person who knows this tense since elementary school (if not since kindergarden) could possibly say stuff like “Oh, the prompt says ‘to be,’ it turns into ‘didn’t were,’ right? ‘My parents didn’t were home last night?’” BECAUSE I WOULD NEVER BELIEVE YOU. But this happened in front of me!! How??? I absolutely understand the mental limits many students can have that can hold them down (my father has troubles learning languages too - because his brain just is like that, and that’s natural) but this is next level!! The sheer oblivious audacity when they hope I’m just gonna... what, surgically put knowledge in their brains without their own input? Crazy!! I was never like this and I can’t comprehend what’s going on nowadays. Another group, second grade. They had to write a short (200 words) informal letter. They were mostly good, I dare to say fantastic! But... See, I don’t have a problem with students with dyslexia, dysgraphia, and other dys-orders: you need a bigger font? Let me change that for you. More time to write? Be my guest. There’s too many exercises with writing and I should swap them for a simpler one? No problem, minister of education. But if you dare say “Why did you suggest I should work on my spelling if I have dyslexia?,” I think you’re gravely mistaken about the reason you are in school, or have the info about your dyslexia in the first place. This is not your golden ticket so you can never bother to spell words properly, and there’s no reason for you not to at least attempt to work on it and improve yourself - even for your own sake. Ehh, y’all would NEVER know how fucked your education system is until you WORK in this environment and see it for yourself. Makes me wanna punch walls and bite everyone who let this happen, not gonna lie :^(

[shotorozu]

writing letters

character(s) : midoriya izuku, bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto (bnha)

PART TWO | PART THREE (?)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk’s not specific

note(s) : how the bnha boys would write you notes/letters and when they’d do so! this also includes headcanons of their handwriting, and examples of their letters (without visuals, because of the image limit)

— .｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ it’s my birthday (part 2) ˚✧₊⁎

»»————-　♡　————-««

midoriya izuku

↛ his hand writing is quite rounded, sometimes messy— but most of the time, it’s alright. izuku usually writes at the center of each column. he occasionally hooks his y’s and g’s (think of what the cursive form of y and g looks like)

↛ he writes you a ton of letters, sometimes for special occasions, sometimes for just no reason at all— like whenever you’re feeling downer than usual, or if he can’t see you at the moment. in reality, he only ends up sending out one. boy has a lot on his mind! i mean, izuku’s a natural writer, he’s been writing about heroes for as long as he could remember in middle school. green boy loves you so much, he could write you an entire novel just filled with the nicest words of affirmations, and he could write sequels stacked ontop of more sequels! but,, he’s hesitant on sending you a lot all at once, or even sending you a lot in just a span of one week, because he’s scared of coming off as stalkerish or too obsessed.

hi Y/N!

work study has been busier than usual, and i’ve been wanting to see you check on you. but sadly, i really couldn’t see you as much as i could. i’m so sorry again! but ok, okay! moving on to the reason why im writing this letter in the first place.

i love you i hope you’re doing well :) even though i can’t really see you at the moment, and even when i’m busy at this work study with kacchan, i hope you’re eating, sleeping, and doing well!

i hope you’re thinking about me, as much as im thinking about you :)

— love, izuku <3

bakugou katsuki

↛ surprisingly, his handwriting isn’t the worst thing in the world. it’s decent, and definitely legible. the edges are sharp though— it definitely suits him.

↛ thinks he has no reason to be writing you letters, and he says that because he— as an individual, prefers telling the things he needs to say to you to your face. so, the chance of him writing you letters is pretty slim. katsuki’s not a fan of the idea of hiding behind some ‘stupid’ letter, with the ‘stupid’ inking and ‘stupid’ paper. but then, he hears that some people tend to appreciate handwritten letters ever so often, especially when they’re feeling particularly down. he rolls his eyes at this new profound information, but he takes a mental note of it. even though he could just tell you the words he means to say over and over again, katsuki ends up pushing through with it anyway.

hey, dumbass.

yeah, me writing letters? you thought i’d never in a million years, huh? wrong. super wrong. have you forgotten that i’m a man of a million talents? anyways. shitty ha kirishima told me that writing you a letter would make you feel less shitty, and he’s not completely wrong. he says the weirdest shit, but he makes sense here and there.

look, you do know that i don’t mean any of the shit i say, right? i don’t wanna come back and see you all sulky and pouty, because you know that i don’t actually mean it when i call you that. sometimes i wish you’d fucking yell at me, because you’re not a doormat. then again, you’re my dumbass anyway. never let anyone tell you otherwise

— katsuki.

todoroki shouto

↛ there he is, the love of my life <3 moving aside, his handwriting is pretty neat. not too round, and not too sharp— if there’s an absolute balance, then shouto’s handwriting would probably be just that (his writing isn’t like a font though, and bonus! aizawa has the easiest time checking his papers during written exams)

↛ he probably sends you letters the most, out of all of the characters i’ve wrote about, or will write about. usually, he writes you a letter once or twice a week, even when you’re in the same vicinity as him. however— if you’re away for like,, a work study, or for a family holiday across town, and for quite some time, he’ll end up writing you 4-5 letters a week, depending on the duration of your stay away. he’s quite used to writing letters, since he practically writes his mom whenever he can— you could even say that this is a love language of his, from the way that his words are precise, and nothing short of being sweet and just,, filled with words derived purely from the heart. in his opinion, he doesn’t mind telling you how he feels face to face, but he also doesn’t mind writing letters. he just,, needs to tell you how he feels!

my love,

it’s been a while. i know, and i do want to apologize for that. we.. haven’t been able to see each other, due to the work study with the old man. it’s excruciating to say the least, just thinking about not seeing you for days upon days. i haven’t touched, seen, or spoken to you in person for way too long. and i feel like you might’ve babied me for quite some time, since i can’t even imagine a week without you. but it’s impossible. you’re so delectable, and you’re for sore eyes. i can only yearn for your touch for how much longer.

lastly, i just want you to remember that i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you. i should probably start making the closing point of this letter. before endeavor comes in, and starts looming over my shoulder like the old man he is. i’ll write about that old fart another time, don’t you fret just yet, love.

— with ever lasting love, shouto todoroki <3

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[kuroosweakness]

their study habits?

me writing this instead of studying :D u have no idea how much i wanna study with kuroo right now </3 

━ kuroo tetsurou

- he’s so smart it’s annoying >:( 

- barely studies, yet just seems to understand everything??? sadly, he’s not very good at teaching ... he tries his best, but he’s just not making much sense :’) 

- kuroo’s one of those people who endlessly teases you. normally, the teasing would be annoying but since it’s coming from him, YOU CAN’T HELP BUT SMILE. and he’s aware of it. 

- his handwriting is just ... lines. messy, yet neat? it looks like a font, the type of font that makes you wonder “who would even use this?!” 

- definitely messes around with his hair when frustrated 

- pulls the “did you know?” every 20 minutes. no kuroo, i did not know that humans share 50% of their DNA with bananas, but now i do...thanks to you 

- he’s so cheesy he passes notes with you even though you’re sitting right next to him 

━ miya osamu 

- the snacker. always has some sort of food beside him. 

- while everyone else is contemplating what to review, he’s wondering what to eat for lunch :’) 

- the food he brings to study sessions are immaculate. yogurt pretzels, dried mangos, pizza, instant ramen, celery, chocolate tiramisu, cinnamon rolls, apple juice, lemonade, strawberries and nutella, fruit sandwiches, french toast, chicken sandwiches. he’s got them all. 

- be on his good side, and he’ll bring you a serving! 

- depending on who’s asking, he’ll whether nod his head if you ask him for food or immediately snatch it away 

- he only writes down the most important parts. even though he doesn’t really try, his notes are pleasing to look at. he has his own special way of note-taking. 

~~~

“‘samu have you done #14 yet?” 

osamu blinks and brings a piece of garlic bread to your mouth, opening his mouth wide open as if he’s feeding a baby. “no.” 

━ miya atsumu 

- gets off track every five minutes. 

- “i haven’t rode a bicycle in so long. you know what we should do later? go ride bikes.” .... okay? but what do bikes have to do with stoichiometry? 

- i feel like atsumu only studies when he REALLY needs to. such as a few days before exams. 

- plays with his hair a lot. twirls, twists, pulls, ruffles, his hair all over the place. it’s cute, especially when he walks out the library looking like he has never touched a hair comb before 

- complains about studying every ten minutes. but who doesn’t :( 

- his pencil lead breaks so often it’s funny

- acts like he reached a major milestone everytime he walks out the library 

━ suna rintarou 

- has his earbuds in for most of the time. he likes how quiet libraries are, but at the same time, doesn’t care if it gets loud.

- seeing suna study is a rare sight 

- is always talking shiz about teachers and professors 

- knows the best study spots! the perfect lighting, perfect noise level, perfect tables, yes. 

- randomly bumps your leg under the table and pretends nothing happens. will definitely play footsie with you. 

- likes to people-watch in libraries 

- uses the bare minimum of two notebooks, two pencils, and one eraser

━ sakusa kiyoomi 

- he’s so boring. studying is just studying. he probably uses a black 0.7 lead pencil 

- once in a while, he’ll get off track and stare into the far distance, giving you a full view of his side profile ... 👀

- randomly stares at you sometimes. when you ask “what?” he just shrugs and goes back to studying 

- he’s a dumbo. has no idea what happens during class, but truly tries! most of his learning is self-taught 

- uses flashcards. he truly believes that flashcards are the way to success. his flashcards are so neat and pleasing to look at! 

- doesn’t put his pen down until he fully understands something. it frustrates him to end something he’s not satisfied with 

- barely talks during study sessions. but likes to hear you ramble, even though it’s distracting for him 

━ oikawa tooru 

- HAS THE BEST STATIONARY! 

- pulls up to your study sessions with a bunch of new stationary! the first 30 minutes is just oikawa giving you a haul-explanation 

- his notes are so pretty!! (just like him .3.) when he puts in effort, his notes looks like they’ll be on my pinterest page. but when he doesn’t try, his handwriting is barely eligible. 

- has a whole schedule. 45 minutes of studying, 15 minute break. the breaks are quite chaotic :’) 

- studying with oikawa are more like dates than study sessions :) he makes it fun and enjoyable in a way that makes time fly by 

[stxvercgersslut]

Meeting Unexpectedly

Description: Trying to sneak you boyfriend into your bedroom was one thing, but expecting you father to be at all happy with it when he found out was a whole other thing.

Warnings: Language, make out, Angry Ransom

A/n: this is a third part of Promises but it is in no way a continuation in the plot of the first two parts. I have no idea how many parts this entire series will be as I’m kinda just taking it one at a time and if I have ideas then I put them down instantly. So who knows maybe this will be a forever on going series. And if you’re wondering yes, yes it is Jake Wyler that y/n is dating 😂 I really couldn’t resist 😂

“Y/n, babe, are you sure that this is safe?” Your boyfriend, Jake voiced as he paced back and forth across your bedroom floor. He’d already been there for almost 20 minuets yet he was still panicking over the tiniest of details. Who knew Jake Wyler could be such a baby when it came to your father, Ransom Drysdale?

The two of you had been dating for over two months now. The only reason you had really met Jake and had so much in common was because his mother just so happened to be your private tutor. Hired by none other than your father, Ransom Drysdale, who just so happened to be the one your boyfriend was terrified of.

If you’d have known that then maybe you would have never actually invited him over in the first place. No scratch that, you definitely still would have brought him since Jake pacing and panicking was 100% becoming your favourite and thing in the world. Causing it to almost land you in a fit of giggles on your bed. Of course you’d attempted to hold back your laughter but no matter how hard you tried it only came bubbling back to the surface much stronger then before. Due to that very issue, it had only been a matter of time before the giggled got the best of you and you were doubling over in fits of laughter.

Noticing this Jake whined, he fucking whined to show his disapproval with your actions. Could he not have growled? At least then he wouldn’t have fuled your enjoyment. “Y/nnnnnnnn” he whined, drawing out the last letter of your name to make it sound even whiner.

“Whattttttttt?” You responded, repeating his technique of drawing out that last words. Practically mimicking his comment.

“Your father is thee Ransom Drysdale!” He yelled, pretty much terrified of him.

“Yeah I know he’s my father after all...” you replied, clearly not in the mood since all you really brought Jake up here for was a quick make out session and some cuddles before he’d have to escape out the window so Ransom wouldn’t notice him.

“Stop laughing y/n! I really like you but I also really like my head attached to my body” He panicked, causing you to instantly stop your hysterics and look towards him with as much sincerity as physically possible, yet you just couldn’t stop yourself from laughing just a tiny bit more.

After a little while longer you finally managed to calm your short breaths from laughing, slowly standing up as you pulled him towards you before cupping his cheeks in your hands. That little pout on his face getting slightly wider as he looked into your eyes “I can’t help it baby! You look so adorable freaking out. It’s cute. But you seriously have nothing to worry about. My dad won’t find out. You just have to be gone on an hour so just relax okay?” You explained softly as you ran your fingers of your right hand through his hair whilst the other caressed his cheek gently.

Finally Jake calmed down, leaning into your touch as his own hands made their way to your waist somehow fully calm at this point as he leaned down and captured your lips. Kissing you with a lot more passion than before just enjoying the moment until he finally pulled away to speak. “Okay okay. I’ll stop worrying but I’m trusting you” he groaned before pulling you back into yet another kiss. It wasn’t long before the both of you were on your bed, Jake on top of you as the two of you were making out. Clearly this was all Jake needed in order to calm down and you were happy enough to fulfill that.

———————————————————————

“That Fucking Walt!” Ransom groaned to himself as he stretched his arms out infront of him, cracking his neck ever so slightly before finally pulling himself from his car.

Being at his family’s home for the last couple of hours had seemed to do much more harm to Ransoms mood then it had good. Then again he had always despised the rest of his family, never truly getting along with them due to the fact that they were all truly dicks. But today? Well today had been all kinds of stressful. For some unknown reason Linda had decided that today of all days was the perfect time to force Ransom and the rest of the Drysdales and Thrombys into one room so that they could ‘catch up’. Although it wasn’t exactly a catch up, it was more just argument after argument. However, this particular argument had been worse than the others.

Ransom had always been good at keeping you out of conversations, always making excuses as to why he was always busy at home when he didn’t have a job. However, today he hadn’t been so quick at hiding his phone as Jacob had noticed the incoming call appearing on his phone with the words ‘Y/n’s Tutor’ in a large font appearing alongside it. At first the former playboy had attempted to play it off as some kinky nickname for some girl he’d fucked,but that hadn’t seemed to work well due to the words on his phone.

He’d fucked up. So he came clean. Explaining very viciously and rudely that you were his daughter. Of course that hadn’t gone down to well, in fact the family had resulted into just insulting and threading each other as well as Ransom. Clearly pretending to be hurt by his decision to keep them in the dark about you. But he saw through that facade, they weren’t brilliant liars none of them were. What had pissed Ransom off the most though was Walts last words.

“you should bring your daughter here some time to meet us. Don’t we deserve the right to meet her?”

The fact that Walt had even suggested that in the first place had caused Ransoms blood to boil to the point where his fists clenched. He’d kept you out of their lives for a reason and now they wanted to be in your life? Hell no, he wouldn’t ever allow that. Yet everyone seemed to agree it was only ‘fair’ that he did that. But why should he bring you into this part of his life? You didn’t deserve that yet he was forced to take you there next Saturday....he may have hated his family but god did that have a brilliantly twisted way of manipulating people into doing exactly what they wanted. Not that Ransom was manipulated, he just couldn’t force himself to listen to his parents yelling at him and calling him a failure anymore. So he went along with it. Oh he was aware you’d hate it but what other choice did he have? Exactly he didn’t.

With one more grumble the former playboy pulled himself away from his beloved Beemer, running his hand across his newly shaven face before finally walking over to the front door and letting himself in. He was an hour early but it wasn’t exactly like he cared, especially since he knew you would probably just be up in your room watching tv or studying. Or at least he thought that’s what you were doing.

Little did he know that you were actually practically making with your boyfriend of 2 months. Yeah you shouldn’t have continued kissing him but you were happy with him clearly.

“Y/n!” Your father called from the front door, taking a quick scan from where he was standing to see if he could see you. Which of course he hadn’t, so like any other parent he just assumed that you were upstairs catching up with homework.

However, the ever so slight sound of the words ‘Jake window now!’ seemed to concern Ransom. Surely he’d heard it wrong right? He didn’t want to believe it. Did you have someone over without his permission?

Assuming he’d heard wrong, the male shook his head. Wandering into the kitchen to get get himself a light snack before dinner. But, as soon as he heard that same words repeated again he was up the stairs in a flash.

What he saw when he swung your bedroom door open had his blood boiling even more than it had been before. You, his (up until now) innocent 16 year old daughter, making out with your tutors son. This had to be a dream right?

“Y/n what the fuck were you thinking?!” He growled, not exactly giving a shit about the fact that he was most likely spooking you. Of course you hadn’t exactly expected him to react the way that he had but you couldn’t blame him.

“Dad I c—“ you began before being cut off.

“No! We’ll talk about this later!” He explained before turning back to Jake “now you get the fuck out!”

“Dad no! He’s not leaving!” You spoke angrily as you looked towards Jake, practically begging him not to leave.

Oh he was mad now, that much was clear from his face. “You don’t get a say in this!” He growled once again before turning back towards Jake “you get the fuck out of my house now before I drag you out!” And with that Jake had zoomed out of the room, racing down the stairs and practically throwing himself out of the door. Yeah he wasn’t coming back.

“D—“ you began but before you could Ransom interjected.

“I’ll talk to you later! Now do some studying or something and don’t come downstairs for a couple hours. I don’t wanna see you right now!” He once again growled raising his voice before turning on his heel and leaving.

Yeah you were in for it.

Tag list: @chuckbass-love @star-spangled-steve @stargazingfangirl18 @navybrat817 @jtargaryen18 @et-lesailes @dwights-new-plague @harrysthiccthighss

[the-panmixxia]

Logan Accidentally Steals Two (2) Children - Chapter 13; Accidentally A Fugative

Original Link (by me!)

Rating: Gen

Characters: Logan, Remy, Virgil

Ship: (eventual) Logan x Janus

Summary: Logan Sanders is so excited to study this exciting new creature that's been discovered! The spider-like creature is very interesting, and oddly adorable.

A few weeks later, a similar situation arises when an octopus like creature is discovered.

But surely they couldn't know each other. They aren't sentient. They're not related, and they definitely don't have an overprotective (and oddly attractive) snake parent looking for them. Nope, definitely not.

(or, how Logan became part of a monster family)

Warnings: Food, bugs in food, head injury, talks of concussion/dying

(fic is not in this font)

Remy's head was still sore by the time he came to, though he was lying on something plush and felt comfortably warm. There also seemed to be something on him, right on his chest, not heavy enough to hurt. Something was sitting next to him, too, leaning on his chest and sitting on his hand.

"Do you think he's dead?" a distinctly young voice asked, poking at his ribs.

Directly above him, something croaked gently, and the child's voice hummed in agreement.

"You're right, Vee, papa said he's sleepin', but like, he's been sleeping for forever! I wanna play already"

More croaks and small chirps responded, as Remy absently tried to get his body to respond.

"I know papa said not to bother him -"

"Boys? I thought I told you not to bother Remy while he's getting better"  a new voice called out, stern.

"Papa!"

"Very cute, you little horror, but I told you not to be here."

"I just…he kept us company, when we were somewhere new. Don't want him to be scared."

" Oh," the voice cooed, full of warmth and compassion "Aren't you a caring little thing? Unfortunately, you'll have to leave anyway, I've just finished preparing your dinner, but if you promise to be gentle I'll let you two stay in here for tonight"

"Really? Really really?"

" Really, really, really, my dear" the voice hummed, amused

The weights on his chest and side were lifted, making a slight shiver run through him.

"What are we having, papa?"

"Little three pasta, dear, and Virgil is having mealworm and woodlouse mixed in if you'd like some too?" a gentle chirp seemed to cheer the choice of meal

"Oh, yes please papa!" the child shouted, making his head hurt

"Very well, my sweet little monstrosity, but let's leave Remy alone if you want to yell…"

The voices tapered out as a door was pulled shut, leaving Remy back in darkness. The throb of his skull begged for him to go back to sleep, but there was no way he could when it was alarmingly obvious that he was in a place and with people he did not know.

After some moments of pretty awesome will power, his eyes finally pried open, to a tall ceiling painted a gentle eggshell with an intricate floral detail carved in. He slowly glanced around, wincing slightly, before deciding to heave himself up.

The headache intensified instantly, but he felt slightly less vulnerable so Remy counted it as a win. Glancing around, he was honestly shocked to see he wasn't in some dingy basement or abandoned shack.

Pretty decent kidnapping, all things considered.

Still, he thought as he steadied himself out and tried to balance there's no way I'm sticking around to see what kind of family feeds their kids worms and louse

Standing wasn't the easiest, but once he was up, he glanced down at himself. The only thing his that he had on was mismatched socks covering his feet. Other than that, he had a plain yellow shirt on, and some ridiculously oversized pyjama pants, pink and covered in cartoon cats. Numbly, he inspected them, seeing that they had the text 'cool pussy' all over them in a font alarmingly close to comic sans.

"Girl boss as fuck," Remy mumbled, laughing quietly, only slightly manic.

The drawstrings were pulled as tight as possible on the pants, but there was plenty of slack to pull the hem, glancing down. Remy found himself sighing in relief; his underwear had remained intact too.

On the bedside table sat his trusty shades, so he was quick to slip them on.

"Right let's…try and get out of here. Preferably alive and without eating any bugs."

Mumbling to himself seemed to help as he made his way through an empty, but cosy feeling, hallway. So far, the house felt rather large, and practically oozed the 'old money' vibe. Instead of old family portraits or naked renaissance women, large frames held illustrations of mythical creatures and monsters, not even a hero fighting it. Just the creatures, looking rather majestic.

In the hallway there was a large mirror, and so Remy could finally catch a glimpse of himself,  tilting his head slightly to see the bandaging wrapped around it. His hair was parted in two, a bun above the top of the bandages and one below, presumably to keep it out the way. He idly pulled the ties out, fluffing and fussing his hair until it looked semi decent and mostly covered all traces of the injury. Nice.

"Right, time to not fall down these stairs,"

The double staircase was more proof of being in some rich ass house, creeping Remy out further as he considered a multitude of horror movie tropes. Would there be staff members trying to hunt me down? What if they've got guard dogs outside to shred him? What if -

The multitude of rushing thoughts died instantly as he turned a corner and ended up in some form of dining room. With people inside. Dining.

'Well, people was putting it lightly,' he mused as he simply stared ' that one seems to be a giant frog, and that's a massive snake tail, and that's -'

A confused whine escaped him at the sight of the lil spider dude sitting at the table. Well, sat on the table, being fed by a scaly dude. The gooey looking child on the booster seat with random tentacles popping out of them? Probably the other creature.

Shit. We stole some kids.

"Oh, kiddo, you're awake!" the large frog guy beamed "You've been uh, 'having a nap' for quite a while, why don't you come eat? There's plenty. It's little pasta three tonight, with garlic bread."

He was hungry, starving really, and the food smelled great. But that wasn't what made him sit down, no, it was in a purely bewildered daze that he sat at the chair pulled out for him, allowed it to be pushed, watched multiple arms assemble a plate of pasta and slide it over.

"Would you like a drink, dear?" the snake asked, idly scratching the spider baby, who purred along as he nibbled.

Mouth dry and extremely parched, he slapped his lips together a few times as he stared at the dish.

"There's no…" he trailed off for a moment, brain still chugging like an old computer "there's no bugs in this"

"Apologies, no, there isn't. I didn't think humans would want any- nevermind, there's plenty left, I'll go get you some,"

The snake had his hands on the table, ready to stand, so Remy shook his head as much as he could without pain. Which wasn't much.

"Um, no thank you, on the bugs. I will have a drink though?"

"Absolutely, I'll go and get that, what would you like? We have all sorts of juice, or some milk -"

"Chocolate milk!" the slimy child cheered, happily pouring his own cup of milk all over his own food. The snake man simply sighed and gently took the cup off him, the child gleefully tucking into his meal.

"I'll refill your cup, Remus, and for you?"

Remy gulped as the man's gaze turned to him, unnerving eyes unblinking.

"Oh, just a water, that'll be fine…" easier to taste if anythings amiss, too

"Certainly, I'll go and get you a cup"

With that the man slivered off, still cradling the little spider in his hands, who in turn was still nibbling at a bit of pasta.

Remy relaxed his shoulders slightly, now only stuck with two unknown creatures instead of four, and no closer to knowing how the fuck he was getting home.

"Is your head still hurting, kiddo?" the frog asked, all gentle and caring.

Caught off guard by the absolute mind-fuck of the situation, and probably still rather concussed, Remy barked a harsh laugh and stabbed some pasta with his fork.

"Yeah, gurl, it's killing me."

EARLIER

Logan made his way into work, a duffle bag full of toys and equipment to be used for today. He'd admittedly gotten rather enamoured with videos of various sea creatures being trained, and had raided a few stores in search of some tools for training. Very exciting.

The main reception was bustling with employees, security, and many people Logan didn't realise. With a frown he walked over to the desk to ask Dot, who was speaking to a militant-type person looking rather frazzled. She glanced at him with disinterest, before seemingly registering who it was, and jumping.

"Dr. Sanders! Just the man we need. There's been a security breach!"

Logan blinked, trying to decipher why a security breach would require him in particular, before recalling the incident of his little creatures almost being abducted, and nodded confidently.

"Ah, yes. Well I'm happy this is getting pursued with importance - will I be filling out a statement?"

"Yes, sir, we'll be interviewing soon but we need to ask you a very important question," the militant asked, hands on their hips and looking rather serious "Are you aware of where your intern is at this current moment?"

"Remy? He should've been here before me, I assumed he'd have spoken to one of you. He was with me, I'm sure his statement would also be valuable"

The person looked up from their notepad, frowning slightly, "With all due respect, sir, it's him we're looking for. We have four staff members all confirming that he took off at  around seven forty am with the new specimens signed under your care."

"WHAT?"

He didn't even acknowledge the way everyone looked over at his yell, too shocked to believe that Remy was being accused of something so serious. And he knew exactly who had actually done it, it had to have been the same scientists trying before.

" Calm down, sir, we really need you to cooperate in helping us find him. He's still a minor, so I'm sure his sentence won't be as severe" the person tried to soothe, but Logan shrugged it off - stupid lies, even though Remy didn't do anything, Logan had no doubt if caught they'd slap the maximum punishment and stick as much stuff in him as possible.

The creatures were of extreme scientific interest and potentially dangerous, he wouldn't be surprised if they tried to claim Remy was attempting some form of terrorism with their destructive saliva. He winced at the thought.

"I wish to see the state of my laboratory, and I won't be making any statements until both me and my intern have attorneys."

" Dr Sanders, please-"

"Absolutely not! I can't believe you're accusing Remy, his record is perfect!"

"I don't understand!" they huffed, hands thrown up "You were cooperating five minutes ago!"

"I thought you were talking about the break in that happened in the labs, two days ago!"

"We weren't informed of any break in except for the one today"

"Four individuals with staff members ids were trying to transport my - the specimens away, claiming they'd had permission to sell them!"

"A very serious accusation, did you report this?"

"Not at the time, I-" he took a deep breath, no use losing his composure, Remy needed him to sort this "I should've filed a report and pulled up the scientists involved but I didn't, and I apologise, I was preoccupied trying to pull both creatures out of the distressed state they were in"

"Hmm" they mumbled, like they didn't quite believe him "Well now you're here, you won't be allowed to leave. These creatures are not only a massive breakthrough scientifically, but potentially lethal in the wrong hands. This is a government matter now."

"What? You can't just, keep us all in here!"

"Just you, and those that work on your floor and department. But yeah, we can. You've got all your needs met, the canteen is open, bathrooms, you can sleep on them benches if you really want --"

Logan scowled, dread crawling up his spine as he stared off at them. This was not good, not good at all. The militant simply smiled sharply, jerking their head to the elevator.

" C'mon, I'll walk you to your lab. See if the mess your intern left it in can convince you to talk."

[everybodyscupoftea]

keeping a secret

pike jj x reader (ft. cody and tyler)

family secret santa in which the boys can’t keep a secret

this made my heart soft btw so y’all are going to melt

(warnings: cursing, light editing)

Secret Santa never worked the way it was supposed to. The four of you drew names the weekend after Thanksgiving, and when you got together to exchange gifts, you had pretty much figured out who had who.

“There’s a forfeit this year,” you interrupted their excited chatter, clutching Cody’s name in your hand, “if I find out who everyone has before we open gifts because of y’all’s dumbasses, you all have to buy me a gift.”

Tyler scoffed, “How is it our fault, maybe you’re just nosy.”

You raised your eyebrows, “So last year you didn’t borrow my chapstick and accidentally slide your slip of paper back into my pocket with the chapstick? And then JJ didn’t literally try and buy my gift while I was in the same room?”

Cody snorted, “She may have a point.”

“Yeah, I have a point. Y’all are sucking the fun out of it, so please, keep it a secret for fuck’s sake.”

“Mhmm, sure. Um, J, what were you wanting for Christmas this year?” Cody asked, grinning at you.

“I’m going to kill you,” you threatened, flipping him off, before pulling your phone out, “everyone send what they want in the group chat.”

You watched Cody’s message roll in and had to hold back a scoff at a date please.

“Cody, you’re being difficult,” Tyler complained.

“Fine,” he huffed and sent something else.

Idk kitchen shit i guess

Now that you could work with.

-

“You know,” JJ mused from where he was lying on your bed, “I think that you have me.”

“Pardon?” you asked.

“What’d you get me for Christmas, I know you have me for Secret Santa.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “I’m not going to ask how you came to that conclusion, but I want to make it absolutely clear that if you try and ruin Secret Santa again, I will kill you.”

“You won’t,” he answered, confidently, “but I know because Tyler obviously has Cody after the text thing. And I have-” you lunged across the bed to clap your hand over his mouth.

“Maybank, I thought I was clear.”

He smirked and licked your palm until you jerked your hand back, JJ answered, innocent tone of voice, “I was just going to say that I have someone other than myself.”

“Sure you were.”

As you moved to stand, he frowned, grabbing your wrist, “I promise I’ll drop it. Can we study?”

“That’s what you’re here for.”

-

Wanna go to the mall this afternoon

Came onto your phone in the middle of your class, and you sighed, reminding yourself to respond to Tyler once the lesson was finished. Your professor let the class out early, and you responded, walking toward your apartment.

Yeah sure. What time?

Now. I’ll pick you up at your apartment

Okay I’m not quite there yet

I know. I’m sitting outside

You snorted, not even remotely surprised. He was parked right outside your building, looking down at his phone, and you ducked, sneaking around the front of his truck before popping up and tapping on the driver’s window.

He jumped high enough that his head slammed into the roof and screamed so loud and high pitched that even you flinched. Tyler grabbed his chest and glared at you, flipping you off.

Laughing, you ran around the truck and climbed into the passenger seat and asked, “What’s up, creep?”

“Nothing much, asshole.”

“To the mall?” you said, buckling up.

“Yeah, gotta get my Secret Santa gift.” You gave him a look, and he glanced over at you at a red light, “What?”

“Ty, baby, please tell me you’re not bringing me to spoil Secret Santa.”

“I’m,” he paused, “not?”

“Uh huh. Well, I hope you’re buying one for me too, that’s the deal.”

“How do you know I’m not getting one for you in the first place.”

“Tyler,” you warned, “I swear to god.”

“Darling,” he answered, “I’m not religious.”

You groaned, “I’m going to kill you before your driving does.”

-

“I need help,” Cody told you, sitting down with a dramatic frown.

“With what?” you tossed your notebook aside to give him your full attention.

He smiled sheepishly, “Can you wrap my gift for me?”

“What?”

“I know you’re joking. Did the three of you plan this? You’ve all done this.”

“Done what?”

“Tried to ruin it for me.”

“Nope, it’s honestly coincidental and absolutely hilarious.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not helping you.”

“Fine,” he pouted, “I guess that my person will be very disappointed, don’t want to upset-” and before he could answer, you kicked out and hit his thigh hard.

“Cody, you’re going to make me do something drastic.”

He smirked, “Oh yeah, like what?”

“I’m going to spoil it for you. I know how much you love Christmas.”

Cody looked conflicted, “Damn, you’ve kinda got me there.”

“Wrap your own damn gifts.”

-

You showed up to the frat house in your pajamas, ready to exchange gifts. Cody was in the kitchen, finishing up some snacks for the group, and you leaned against the counter, “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“Excited for today?”

He beamed, “Of course.”

Tyler stumbled into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and you gaped at him, “Bro, it’s 2 p.m.”

He yawned, scratching his stomach, “I’m catching up on sleep.”

“From what?”

“Life, bro. It’s exhausting being alive.”

Which, fucking true. You held your fist out for him to bump, “Feel that.”

“Nap later,” he suggested and you nodded.

JJ came down the stairs next and tilted your chin up to kiss you hello, tapping his fingers on your jaw a few times before pulling back.

Tyler made a gagging noise and reached for a mug of coffee Cody poured. JJ rolled his eyes, “Don’t be bitter.”

“Can we just open gifts?” Tyler whined.

You laughed and nodded, “Yes, let’s take a seat, shall we?”

Cody looked at you warily, “Why the tone?”

“Tone?” you asked, faking innocence.

JJ side eyed you, “You know?”

“I know.”

Tyler groaned, “Literally how? Who blabbed?”

“Cody did. He drunk texted me asking what JJ wanted.”

He smiled sheepishly, “I have zero recollection.”

“Okay but how did you figure out the rest?” Tyler interrupted.

“You have me, we didn’t buy anything at the mall that time we went, but you followed me around all afternoon, trying to figure out what I was interested in.” Tyler narrowed his eyes, “That obvious, huh?”

“It was. Which means JJ has you because I have Cody.”

Pushing himself back, JJ laughed, “Got it in one.”

You crossed your arms, “So I will be accepting gifts from JJ and Cody in the near future, thanks.”

Cody sighed, “We figured you’d find out, so we actually already ordered them, just not in yet.”

“Oh my god,” Tyler muttered, “y’all are awful.”

“Hey,” Cody pointed at him accusatory, “just because you weren’t at fault doesn’t mean you get to take a moral high ground, you’re the one who ruined it last year.”

“Yeah,” JJ added on, “I’m the only one who gets to take it.”

“You ruined it the first year,” you reminded him, “well, Brooke did I guess. She texted me asking why the fuck you were spending more money on my gift than hers.”

Tyler choked on his coffee, “What?!”

JJ’s jaw dropped, and you suddenly realized you’d never told any of them about it. They all stared at you, waiting for a response, “Yeah, she was mad I guess.”

“Jesus Christ,” JJ muttered.

Cody laughed, “God she was the fucking worst. That’s why your gift was cheap sweetheart.”

After a few more seconds of laughter, JJ finally interrupted, “Okay, we should actually exchange gifts.”

“Right, so, I had Cody,” you started, passing over your gift.

He tore into it and pulled out the apron that said plant mom in a script font with plants scattered randomly all over the front. He snorted, “This is fucking fantastic.

“Thank you,” you beamed, “but there’s actually more, so don’t get stuck on the apron.”

Cody pulled out a set of hockey tickets, two for the upcoming Hurricanes Leafs matchup and gasped, “Dude, oh my god, I’m going to kiss you right now.”

Laughing, you puckered your lips, “Any time, baby.”

JJ chuckled, “Mr. Steal My Girl, huh?”

“Maybank, she’d leave you in a fucking heartbeat for a Leafs player, we both know that. I’m not quite as great, but I’m close,” Cody fired back, softening it by sliding his gift for JJ across the table. 

Picking it up, JJ shook it a few times before digging through the bag. He made a weird face and pulled out a pair of boxers. His jaw dropped and Cody was very clearly holding in laughter.

“What is it?” Tyler asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Wordlessly, he held them up and flipped them around so everyone could see daddy issues written across the ass in pink writing.

You and Tyler busted out laughing as Cody sat, arms crossed looking smug. JJ was clearly unsure how to feel, close to laughing, until Cody took pity, “Don’t worry, bro, there’s more in the bag.”

Sure enough, JJ pulled out a new wallet, one he’d been eyeing for months but hadn’t pulled the trigger on because it was a bit out of budget. Smiling softly at Cody, he told him, “Thanks bro, love you.”

“Love you too, J.”

“No sappy hours early,” Tyler interrupted, “give me my gift.”

“It’s 2 p.m.,” JJ muttered but passed the box over to Tyler anyway.

He tore into it and JJ jolted forward, “Dude, it’s breakable, chill.”

Inside was a nice tea set and a box of fancy teas. Tyler blinked a few times, in awe of the contents, “Woah.”

“I know you like tea more than coffee, and we never have any here, so I figured I’d set you up.”

“I-” Tyler cut himself off, “wow, this is really thoughtful. Thanks buddy.”

“Anytime. I’ll tell you where I ordered them too so if you like one you can order more. I kinda just got a starter pack.”

“Yeah, that would be sick.”

JJ squeezed his shoulder and Tyler cleared his throat, passing a small bag across the table. You picked it up, curious, and pulled the tissue paper out. After looking, you let out a loud laugh, “Great minds, huh?”

“Great minds,” Tyler nodded, folding his hands.

“What is it?” JJ asked, leaning over.

“Leafs tickets. Two of them.”

“Well,” Cody said, “guess we can all go now. Sitting in different places, but we can make a trip of it.”

Tyler lit up, “I didn’t even think about that!”

“Boys night,” Cody cheered.

“Fuck yes,” you agreed, clutching the tickets to your chest.

“Oh,” Tyler leaned forward, “there’s something else, but it’s in my room, be right back.”

He disappeared up the stairs, and JJ stood to grab his wallet to start switching everything over. Cody looked pleased, and Tyler came running back down a few seconds later with a box in his hand.

“This too,” he huffed out, collapsing back into the chair.

“You’re going to break that one day,” you warned him, tearing into the wrapping paper. Inside was the pair of running shoes you’d talked about the day you went to the mall with him and you smiled, “Thanks, bud.”

“Mall trip successful,” he responded, taking the last sip of his coffee before standing again, “who wants tea?”

“Me,” you answered, standing with him while Cody started pulling out plates for the snacks he’d made. 

In the loudness of everyone talking over each other, you just had to smile. Sure it was chaotic, but it was your family, and you loved them all dearly.

“Oh,” you remembered, “Cody and JJ I expect my gifts on Christmas Eve, thanks.”

Cody groaned and JJ squeezed his shoulder, “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

~

for day nine of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: secret santa

[ecto-american]

If Found Please Return to Danny Phantom

Phic Phight Oneshot for @imperfection-at-itsfinest: When Jack manages to get his hands on Danny Phantom's ghost hunting logbook, an investigation reveals some information about ghosts and the infamous specter himself that a scientific study would never cover.

Read on FFN and AO3

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It would be wrong of him to read it. 

Jack kept staring at the book in his hands. It resembled a diary, the front design being colorless but a pressed design. The moon with stars, with no words, and the diary itself felt unusually thin. There was no lock, as if it was almost inviting him to just read it. Jack had, in fact, already opened to the first page, and the first words greeted him. In a standard font read: If Found, Please Return to: and the name scrawled, in surprisingly tidy handwriting, was the name Danny Phantom.

What an absolute find. It was pure dumb luck. He had seen Phantom drop it, but Jack had went looking for it in hopes that the ghost teen had dropped one of the stolen Fenton gadgets. Only to recover...this book that he had taken home and into the privacy of his lab for study.

The idea of Phantom keeping a diary was kinda funny. He never struck Jack as the type to write down his deepest darkest secrets or teenage embarrassments in a book. That would imply that the ghost had some kind of emotions. They didn’t. They were blobs of ectoplasmic energy.

So it should be okay for him to read, right? Why was he so hesitant? Well...it was an invasion of privacy. But it was fine. Phantom dropped it in the park. Phantom was a menace to society. There was likely evidence in this journal that could explain all of the ghost boy’s terrible deeds, that could prove that he truly was evil. This diary could change everything.

...Jack had children though, and he knew both were avidly creative. Scrapbooking, drawing, painting, writing. They were stress outlets for his girls, and he wouldn’t ever dare dream of invading their privacy like that. So he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Phantom deserved privacy, right?

“Jack? Are you coming to dinner?” Maddie’s voice snapped him from his thought process. She hadn’t made a noise as she came down the stairs. But Maddie was a much better stealth hunter than him.

“Yes, yes! Sorry, I was distracted,” Jack apologized. He set the book down on the table. Maddie rose an eyebrow at him.

“Did you get a new ectobiology book?” she asked. His eyes glanced to the book, and he shook his head no. Maddie came over to him, studying the book cover. Of course, it didn’t resemble any of the scientific texts that they owned. 

“I don’t know how to explain it…” Jack said slowly. He held it out to her. Maddie accepted it.

“This looks like it belongs to the kids,” she stated. She opened the first page, and Jack saw her eyes widen. Her breath hitched, and she looked up to him “Jack...where did you...get this?”

“He dropped it during a fight,” he replied. “I thought it was Fenton tech, but…”

Her eyes sparkled, and she shut the book. A wide grin had appeared, and she threw her arms around her husband.

“Oh Jack! This could teach us so much! If this really is a journal or some kind of diary, then he may have recorded motivations! Thoughts! We can really get into how Phantom thinks and a raw, honest, firsthand account from Phantom himself! This changes everything!”

She was right. She was absolutely right, and he hugged her back. They were scientists first and foremost, and this journal could fill in so many missing blanks about ghosts. It was a starting off point. Jack’s mind raced with all the things they could possibly learn. Just from a simple peek of the book. That was worth more than the invasion of privacy of a ghost that caused so much havoc, destruction and pain. 

“We should look at it right now!” he exclaimed. Maddie pulled away with a small frown.

“After dinner,” she reminded him. “I finally got everybody corralled upstairs for a family dinner. It’s nearly impossible to get either of the girls at the same time.”

“Oh, right!” Jack nearly slapped his forehead. Yes, they were scientists first and foremost, but before even that, they were Mom and Dad. “First thing after dinner.”

“First thing after dinner,” she agreed with a smile. 

Upstairs, he saw that Jazz was already serving herself. Chicken, mashed potatoes and peas. His youngest was pouring iced tea into glasses for everybody. 

“Hey Ghost-kateers!” Jack greeted cheerfully with a grin. Both kids groaned in embarrassment. Perfect. 

“Daaad!” his youngest complained, a whine hitching as she put the pitcher of ice tea back. “I told you, if I’m going to be some kind of ye olde soldier type, I wanna be a knight, like at the renaissance fair.” 

“Ah, but if you’re a ghost-kateer, you can get an anti-ghost musket!” Jack teased. As he walked past her to get his own food, he playfully ruffled her pixie-cut hair. She waved his hand away. 

“But as a ghost knight, I can get a cool sword!” she protested. Jack shook his head in fake disappointment. 

“Never bring to a ghost sword to a ghost musket fight, baby boo,” her dad replied.

“Can’t shoot what you can’t see!” she shot back with a grin. Jack had to hand it to her, and he just chuckled. 

“Can we please have a ghost free dinner?” Jazz scowled. 

“Yes, yes, let’s save ghosts for after dinner,” Maddie agreed. Jazz shot her a grateful look, and Jack focused on getting his serving of dinner from the stove. His youngest pushed her sleeves up, exhaling. Jack stole a look at her and frowned. She had some sweat collected on her forehead.

“Honey if you're hot, you can just take your sweatshirt off,” he told her. She shook her head no.

“No, I'm fine,” she insisted. Jack was skeptical.

“You sure?” he asked. 

“Mhm!” 

Jack shrugged a bit. She was always insisting on wearing a hoodie, no matter the weather. If she got hot enough, she’d take it off. No need to force it. He got his food and took his seat.

“How's school going?” Maddie questioned. Jazz lit up a bit, and her sister flinched. She raised a suspicious eyebrow at her youngest.

“I managed to get a B on my chemistry test,” the youngest spoke up with a forced smile.

“That’s excellent!” Maddie’s demeanor shifted as she smiled warmly. “Keep it up!” 

“Yeah!” The youngest seemed to visibly relax. “Sam’s been helping me study.”

“That’s good, I always studied better when V-man or your mom helped me,” Jack nodded at her as he cut up his chicken. 

“Oh it’s true, I used to help your father study for all of our shared classes,” Maddie confirmed. “Otherwise he’d get so distracted.”

“Yeah, Sam just explains it super well,” their daughter agreed. “Tucker’s been going over math with me a bit, which helps some.”

“Well if you need a tutor, just let us know, and we’ll help you arrange one,” Maddie smiled. “What about you, Jazz?”

“Pretty good,” she replied. “Mr. Lancer asked if I wanted to be his TA this summer, which I really do. It’ll look good on a college application, and I might even get paid!”

“Have you been narrowing down where you might wanna go?” Jack asked. Jazz eagerly nodded.

“Yeah! Oxford is my number one choice, but I also would love to go to Yale or Stanford. I’ve been talking with the college counselor about what else might look good on an application for them that I can do over the summer. I wrote them down in my planner notebook earlier-”

“Hey, that kinda reminds me,” her sister interrupted. “Have you guys seen one of my notebooks? I think I lost it,” she asked them. Jack stared at her. The reminder of the notebook he actually had found. Maddie seemed unbothered by the question. This wasn’t unusual, for the parents to have to play “where’s my stuff?” with the kids. 

“What notebook?” Jazz asked hesitantly. 

“My important one,” came the reply. Jazz frowned lightly. 

“Sorry, princess, haven’t seen any notebooks laying around,” Jack replied. He saw the briefest of a cringe cross his youngest’s features. “Did you leave it at school?” Her shoulders slumped.

“I don’t think so?” she said hesitantly. “I’ll have to check tomorrow. I was so sure I had it earlier…” Her voice trailed off before she forced a smile. “If you see it, let me know!” She picked up a forkful of chicken, only to freeze. The clattering made Jack glance up curiously as she was turning her attention to Maddie. “Can I be excused? I have some homework to get done.” 

Maddie let out a soft sigh. So much for family dinner.

“Of course, just make sure you come back down before you go to bed to get your chores done,” Maddie nodded at her. The young Fenton snapped to her feet with a thanks, fully abandoning her dinner as she went to the stairs. Jazz stared after her sister, craning her neck to track her movements before hurriedly shoveling more mashed potatoes in her mouth.

“Uh, I’m not that hungry, and I totally forgot to do this online assignment,” Jazz spoke, standing up, taking hers and her sister’s plate. She was already walking away before either parent could truly give permission. “I’ll put our plates up and clean up in a bit!”

“A-alright?” Jack hesitated, watching his other child put the plates on the counter before rushing up as well. Another child down. They seemed to grow up so fast. 

“Least they’re doing homework,” Maddie sighed lightly, shaking her head before taking a drink of her tea. “Oh well. Might as well take their lead and eat in the lab?” 

“Please,” Jack agreed. He stood up, taking his plate. “I’m dying to see what Phantom has to say.”

January 10

Skulker: 1; captured

Ectopuss: 1; captured

Box Ghost: 8; captured

Ember: Fought; got away

Fenton Thermos: half-full

Fenton Fisher: untangled

January 11

Vultures: 1; got away

Cujo: 1; played fetch and he went back to the GZ

Fenton Thermos: Full

Ghost Bazooka: overheated and doesn’t shoot anymore, take apart and fix it

January 12

Skulker: 2; got away

Box Ghost: 3; captured

Sidney: 2; got away

Fenton Fisher: tangled, untangle asap

January 13

Skulker: 1; captured

Box Ghost: 4; got away

Fenton Thermos: damaged, won’t suck up ghosts

I met a new ghost today named Desiree. She got away, but it allowed me to discover a new ghost power. Ghost ray.

Maddie furrowed her brow as she studied the words. She stood at the table, her dinner half-forgotten as she thought on the words.

“It sounds like a record,” Jack mused, and he ate another spoonful of peas. Maddie nodded in agreement.

“I think we found Phantom’s logbook,” she agreed. “I’m assuming these are the ghosts he’s fought. And he seems to be recording his powers too. This is huge, we can match up what we know about his powers and what he’s claiming.”

“And he’s recording the status of our equipment.” Jack frowned. “Why would he care?”

“Yeah, he made note that he was going to fix the Fenton Bazooka too,” Maddie pointed out. The scientist flipped through the pages, only to stop at a page, staring curiously. Maddie laid the journal on the table, pressing the spine so that the pages stayed open. She read the page aloud to Jack.

December 19

I hate my life. I hate this existence. I look in the mirror and wonder why it has to be this way. Why am I the one cursed to be this freak? Why is everything about me and my body wrong? For once, I wish something about me was normal, that somebody about me could be right. If Desiree wasn’t such an unreliable asshole with wishes, I’d give everything I have to wish that life could, for once, allow me to be a normal teenage boy. 

Jack listened to her in a stumped silence. This couldn’t have been a pre-death thought process of a moody teenager. It was written too recently, and the words hit a sorrowful chord to him. He didn’t intend to, but he quickly began to feel sorry for Phantom. He was very young. It couldn’t have been easy to lose everything at that age. His daughter was his age. Jack cleared his throat.

“It’s not just a log then?” Jack questioned. Maddie shook her head, flipping the pages back.

“No, I think it’s a mix. There’s still records of ghosts and FentonWorks equipment,” she replied. Using a leg, she pulled a wheeled chair to her to sit in. She leaned back, and she pulled the journal to her. After a moment of flipping through and scanning pages, she settled on a page about a third of the way through. “It seems like this is when he began to record things other than just ghosts.”

“What’s it say?” Jack wondered. Maddie read aloud the next few entries as Jack silently continued to eat. 

April 4

I only fought this shitty panther today, and he still got away. I’m such a fucking idiot. I can’t believe he got away. I was too slow. All I do is fuck up. There’s ghostly activity happening around the school, and I just can’t figure it out. I feel like I can’t stop them anymore. I don’t know what’s going on, why I suddenly suck so much. I honestly probably just always sucked, and now it’s starting to hit me. [scribbles] and [scribbles] were trying to make me feel better, but I fucked up. It was only one ghost today, and I couldn’t catch them. It destroyed an entire store, and it’s my fault.

April 8

No ghosts today, surprisingly. But [scribbles] has been acting weird lately. The other day she poked and prodded me at dinner. No clue what that’s about. She also tried to give me this speech that I can talk to her about anything, and that she’d love me no matter what. That makes me think she found my binder. I’m honestly kinda freaking out. I knew I shouldn’t have left it out like that. She’s such a nosy know it all.

“Phantom must keep more records than just this,” Maddie lightly mused. “He has an entire binder full of information that somebody discovered.”

“Maybe on other ghosts?” Jack theorized. “He’s recording his fights, he must be also recording information about them.” Maddie’s eyes lit up.

“That makes so much sense,” she agreed. “He probably keeps so many kinds of things written down and logged. I wonder where he’s keeping it? Obviously paper, which is a bit odd. I figured a teenager would move to the digital age…” Maddie paused.

“Maybe he’s older than we think he is?” Jack suggested. “He could have died fifty years ago, and just be more comfortable with writing things down.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Maddie mused. She put down the notebook to take a long sip of her drink. Jack picked it up to observe the page she read.

“Phantom has neat handwriting,” he noted. “He’s not fighting ghosts when he writes these.” Jack’s eyes scanned the words. “...I wonder who he’s scribbled out.”

“Allies?” Maddie shrugged. “He probably went back and blacked out some of the names. Privacy. Especially if this isn’t the first time he’s lost this.”

It made the most logical sense. Jack skipped the purely log entries to one that had more written, and he read it aloud to his wife.

April 10

She was feeding on us. Spectra, the Casper High “psychologist” was feeding on emotions, like some kind of emotional vampire but she’s a ghost. It’s so scary. I saw her do it. She asked [scribbles] and [scribbles] about their lives. What made them unhappy, and why. And when they left, I saw her absorb? I guess how I’d describe it? She absorbed the energy into her skin and it just seemed to instantly revive her, and it made her happy. When she did it to me, I could just look in her eyes and know that she enjoyed every minute of my misery. I managed to stop her, with [scribbles] helping me. It was weird. She didn’t seem afraid of me. I don’t know why. 

Spectra: 2; captured

“Ghosts can feed off of energy!” Maddie exclaimed. “Human energy! We always suspected it, but this is confirming something!” Jack glanced up at her excitedly. It was the first real, true ghostly discovery that Phantom was revealing to them. 

April 13

All I do is fuck up lately. Because of me, this ghost dog just absolutely has been causing havoc on this girl’s life. She blames me. And I don’t blame her. I ruined her entire life. She lost her house because of me. I didn’t mean to. I tried to stop the dog, but he just won’t respond to anything I say. I can’t capture him. I’ve been trying. I’ve been just calling the dog Cujo. After the Stephen King book, because damn is this dog giving me one fucking nightmare of a time.

Cujo: 3, got away

April 16

[scribbles] kissed me. It was to force me to change back, and it worked, but she kissed me. It was great. She smelled like lavender. I don’t think my heart’s ever beaten so fast. Afterwards she clarified to me that it was just a fake-out make-out. It didn’t feel like it. I don’t want it to be. But she’s my best friend, and I can’t lose her. So I agreed, and when I came home I cried. My dad caught me, and I pretended it was just girl problems, even though that excuse made me feel even worse. He got me some ice cream, and we watched Star Trek together. It didn’t really help that much, if I’m being honest. 

Anyway, apparently Cujo’s trained. He knows his commands. [scribbles] thinks it’s because he was a guard dog when he was alive for Axion Labs. For a guard dog, he’s such a playful puppy though, he loves his squeaky toy. And [scribbles] became a hunter specifically to kick my ass. It’s my lucky month. But I deserve it. Will there ever be a day where I actually can do more good than bad?

Skulker: 1; captured

[Scribbles]: 1 Red Huntress

Cujo: 1, got away

“Phantom has a family?” Maddie wondered. She chewed on her food as she thought. Jack shrugged, an odd, unsettled feeling hitting him as he put the book down for a moment. He used his spoon to push around his peas.

“I mean, we all do,” Jack reminded her. “Just...I didn’t think Phantom still talked to his family. After his death. Or did such...non-ghost things with them.” Watching Star Trek with his dad? Jack did that with his own kids all the time. It was his and his youngest daughter’s favorite show to watch together. Jazz typically preferred documentary series, and Maddie was too bothered by scientific inaccuracies to really enjoy science fiction. So it was always “their thing” and knowing that Phantom did it too was...too human. 

“Yeah, I didn’t...really expect him to still be haunting them,” Maddie said. Jack could tell that this was disturbing her a little. 

“But ghosts can retain their memories from life it seems,” Jack spoke up. Maddie stared at him. “The dog remembers commands from his life as a guard dog. What extent, I’m not sure.” Maddie hummed curiously.

Jack picked the book up again, skipping through more boring logs to other words. 

April 29

Ember: 2; captured

Fenton Thermos: full, empty

The past few weeks have been terrible. I have definitely come to the conclusion that I really am developing a crush on [scribbles]. Or maybe I always had one, I dunno. Is this really just an effect from Ember’s supposed spell? Does ghostly mind control really last? I think I always knew that I liked her though. I mean, ever since I told her that [scribbles], she’s been so supportive. She even cut my hair for me, which really pissed my parents off, but they ended up admitting that I looked better with my hair short anyway. Almost like it’s meant to be, huh? Ha. [scribbles] is also one of the only two people who know my deeper secret. She’s been so supportive through that too. She calls me Danny, and every time she refers to me as that, it makes my heart go crazy.

But would she even like me? Would she even wanna be with somebody like me? I don’t think I’d be her type. Some other friends I met at this local support group have complained about the struggles of dating. The stories are depressing, and it makes me worried that while [scribbles] will always love and accept me as a friend, that she’d never be able to love me as a boyfriend. I hate my life.

“Aw, Phantom has a little girlfriend,” Jack half-joked, only for goosebumps to raise and an odd chill run down his spine. He looked to Maddie for her opinion, and her face was scrunched up.

“That’s a bit creepy,” she commented. “He’s pretending to be human.”

“I dunno, Mads,” Jack shrugged. He re-read the ghostly teen’s internal conflicts. “Why would he pretend to be human in a journal that nobody’s meant to read?”

“He has to be sharing it with his allies,” she argued. “Those people he’s been scribbling out. Phantom has to be pretending for them. To keep them around. He even mentioned ghostly mind control.” 

She pushed her mostly-finished plate from herself, motioning for Jack to hand over the journal. He complied, and Maddie flipped through it. She stopped, and she set the journal down on the table once more. Leaning over, she studied the spine. A finger ran along the inner spine, and she frowned.

“Pages are missing,” she noticed. Jack pushed his plate out of the way to lean over as well.

Indeed, the top of the diary revealed that it was meant to be a normal, full diary. Now that Maddie pointed it out, it looked like well over a fourth of the diary had missing pages. Jack squinted, pulling his hood over his eyes. He used his googles to better examine.

“They weren’t ripped out, like in a ghost fight,” Jack told her. He pointed to what remained of a page, a barely noticeable strip. “It was carefully cut out.” Maddie narrowed her eyes to get a better look.

“You’re right,” she mused. “Phantom did this purposefully. Probably to hide stuff from his allies.”

“But why hide some stuff and not others?” Jack wondered aloud. “Clearly this girlfriend figure is an ally, but he can’t be...sharing this with her, right?” Maddie pulled back from the notebook to lean in her chair with a heavy sigh.

“...I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think he would. But he’s also a ghost, they do weird things.” Jack didn’t know how to reply, and so he continued to read.

May 16

The past few days have been so full of drama. Walker ruined my life. He absolutely ruined it. He set out to make me the most hated person in Amity Park out of pure spite, and he succeeded. I’m public enemy number one. I can never win. For a while now, I had debated telling my parents, because I so desperately want their support, but they were part of the news coverage calling me a disgusting, evil ghost. I ended up crying yesterday. I don’t think they’ll ever truly love me if they knew. I also failed Wulf. Another failure on my plate. I’m just waiting for it to all crash down on me.

Walker: 1; sent to the GZ

Wulf: 1; sent to the GZ

Walker’s goons: at least 14, all captured

Fenton Thermos: overflowingly full

“Oh this is just becoming nonsense,” Maddie complained. “He’s lying. We were there, Jack! We saw him attack us.”

“I know, I know, he did, yeah, he did,” Jack tried to gather his thoughts. “But why would he lie in this? I don’t think anybody was meant to read this?” Jack flipped through the pages. The further he flipped through in, the more he could tell that some sections had more carefully cut out papers than others. Why was Phantom cutting out? What was he hiding? Why was he hiding it?

“He meant for somebody to read this,” Maddie lightly argued. 

“Yeah, it seems like it, but…,” Jack trailed off. He shook his head a bit, flipping back to where they had left off. “I dunno.”

“Hold on a second,” Maddie urged him, standing up. “Let me get something to write with, we should take some notes.”

“We can just use the scanner to make a copy of the journal afterwards, and we can further analyze it afterwards,” Jack suggested. Maddie thought on this, and she nodded, but she still reached for some scrap paper and a pen.

“Good idea, we should probably read through it fully first anyway,” she agreed. “But I still want to jot down some thoughts.”

“Of course, of course,” Jack replied. He knew that’s how she thought and processed information best, and it was always from her notes that he could visualize his own theories properly. He took a drink of tea before he continued reading the next true entry.

May 24

My entire relationship with my other crush (not [scribbles]) was a lie. She was being overshadowed by Kitty the entire time. This was my first real girlfriend, and it was all fake. I had assumed I was so lucky. I found a girl who knew and was okay with both of my biggest secrets. When I got home I ended up just going straight to my room. [scribbles] brought me dinner, but I didn’t feel like eating. Is this what life is going to be for me? I don’t want it to be like this. The only good thing is that [scribbles] doesn’t know either secret alongside our brief relationship.

Least Kitty and Johnny seem happy again. For now at least. I swear, they’re always breaking up and getting back together. 

Kitty: 1; sent back to the GZ

Johnny 13: 1; sent back to the GZ

Shadow: 1; sent back to the GZ

Jack could lightly hear Maddie taking notes on her scrap paper, the pen scratching at the surface. He didn’t comment on it, silently flipping to the next page, and he continued to read. 

August 19

I was forced to really face the reality of how much I fucked up [scribbles] life. I hate it. I’d do anything to take it back. It makes me wonder if I should just retire. Am I even really doing anything to help? Am I just a nuisance? Everybody thinks that. 

Rationally I know I can’t. I’m the only one who can properly deal with the ghosts, who has the power and abilities to fight back without getting killed. I have to do what I can, but I just wish I could do it without making so many mistakes. [scribbles] said that it’ll be okay, and that it gets better, but it sure doesn’t fucking feel like it.

Skulker: 3; finished

Red Huntress: 2; temporary truce?

“He’s so full of...emotion for a ghost,” Maddie finally spoke up. 

Jack glanced at the paper she had in front of her. There was some notes of what they had been learning so far, and there were emotions written in all caps with a line under, and a list of various emotions. Emotions Phantom seemed to be displaying. Guilty, despair, loneliness, self-hatred, self-doubt. Despite the few entries, it was already quite a list.

“It’s not just him either,” Maddie continued. Jack rose an eyebrow at her. She didn’t immediately reply, fingers on her lips as she stared down at the journal. “He’s giving emotions to other ghosts too.”

Jack stared down blankly at the journal in his hands. 

“Where?”

Maddie began to write, and as she wrote, it clicked. Spectra’s joy in hurting others. Kitty and Johnny’s relationship. Walker’s spite. Cujo being a playful puppy. According to Phantom, and against what they knew as scientists, ghosts were experiencing a wide variety of emotions and for different reasons. It was weird. 

Jack continued to read.

October 17

I don’t know what happened the past few days. It’s this weird blur. According to [scribbles] and [scribbles] I did a lot of bad things under Freakshow’s control. [scribbles] hugged me and told me that it was nothing that we couldn’t fix, but I doubt that. Why does this keep happening to me? I don’t want to hurt people. I want to be a good person, and I want to help Amity Park, but I don’t know what keeps happening. Everything’s a fog, and I’m exhausted. 

Freakshow: 1; arrested by APPD

Circus ghosts: freed from Freakshow’s control, went back to the GZ

Replace Fenton Anti-Creep Stick, print out another sticker to put on it

“Freakshow...that was the weird circus guy,” Jack interrupted himself. Maddie nodded.

“Yeah, and if Phantom’s right...he could control the ghosts,” she mused. “So there’s a way for humans to take control of ghosts...That’s something to look into. If we can control the ghosts into staying away, it’d be such a massive scientific breakthrough.”

“We should look into Freakshow more, and see if we can talk to him!” Jack agreed. “Maybe he’ll share something with us.” Maddie smiled softly.

“I doubt that,” she replied gently. “But there’s no harm in trying. What else does it say?”

November 8

I have to fight Pariah Dark. I’m terrified. I don’t think I’ll live through it. How can I live through fighting the actual ghost king? I may never see my family again, and I can’t even tell them what happened to me if I die. I’ve been debating telling [scribbles] that I like her, but I don’t think I could bring myself to do it. 

What happens if I die? I have no clue. I’m scared to find out. I can’t die now. I have to make it back. I’ll go missing, and I won’t even be declared dead as my parents’ son. Nobody will know who to really look for. I have to come back. Maybe if I succeed, and people like me again after this, I can tell my family everything.

November 10

I couldn’t tell them. My parents still despise part of me, despite what I’ve done. I know they love me, cause my mom’s already been fussing over me like crazy because of my injuries. [scribbles] said she cried when they couldn’t find me, and that my dad had gone out looking for me all over the city, even in the dangerous parts. They of course love me, but do they really love me unconditionally?

Jack felt his voice trailing off as he hit the end. He coughed lightly, and he took a long drink. Maddie stared off into nothing. The only thing he could think of was his own search for his baby girl. He wasn’t alone, bumping into several other parents desperately looking for their missing children, and several children who got separated from their parents. The entire day was somber and frightening, and Maddie had spent the entire day glued to the phone. In case she called them. 

It was all...too real, and Jack flipped past more logs. He couldn’t help but begin to take note of how every single day had a log of ghost fighting activities, even if Phantom didn’t write down his feelings every day. This was so much more than the ghost hunting duo ever expected, more attacks than they were recording.

His eyes rested only for a moment on December 19, and he decided to just skip it. They had already read it earlier. No need to refresh those memories. More logs, and more missing pages, and he came upon another one. 

March 26

I ripped out a lot of pages, more than I intended. I can’t risk anybody finding out what happened, but also other pages revealed too much, so I kept them tucked away where nobody could ever find them. I’d burn them, but I don’t want to lose the ghost hunting data. It’s okay now. I fixed the problem and assured that everything’s going to be fine. Possibly better. I made the right choice this time, and now I know that one day, I will grow a sick beard. 

I know somebody knows my secrets now. All of them. She had known for months but wanted me to tell her. She asked me if I had a name, and ever since I told her that it was Danny, she’s been calling me that whenever she can. It made me cry the first time. It’s so great to have her know everything now. She loves me no matter what. I couldn’t ask for a better person. Even though she found out because I’m an idiot. This entire thing also made me realize how important it is to keep those secrets, and how poorly I’ve been keeping them. 

I didn’t ever mean for this to turn into a diary. I wanted to keep track of ghost fights. But it honestly helps with both the dysphoria and the stresses of being a ghost. I just went back and scribbled out names. Just in case. In the future I need to be more vague. 

But this is also the end for one secret. If things go wrong then well. I don’t know. I’ll make it up as I go along. But I know that this is who I am, and that I’m hitting a point where I need help to just be me. 

Him: 1; captured for good

Skulker: 2; captured

Desiree: 1; captured

Ectopusses: 1; captured

Cujo: 1, sent back to the GZ

Fenton Thermos: full

Fenton Anti-Creep Stick: destroyed, get new bat and sticker to put on it

Also learned a new ghost power: Ghostly wail. A scream that can just absolutely fuck somebody’s day up. I have to use it sparingly though.

Jack closed the journal, and he set it flat on the table. His mind was blank, and he couldn’t read Maddie. She continued to stare at the closed book, hand in pen but almost unsure as to what to even jot down as a note. He leaned in his seat, finishing his drink. Maddie exhaled deeply, dropping her pen in favor of stretching.

Neither said a word. Jack knew that this journal was not any kind of trick. It was too raw and emotional to be anything more than the thoughts of a teenage ghost. He regretted reading it. It held some interesting information, and he was sure if he dug deeper, that he would find more. But as it stood, his own intense guilt was settling as he knew that he just took too personal a look into the private emotional afterlife of Phantom.

“This is a lot to take in,” Maddie finally spoke. Jack only nodded.

The basement door opened, and they heard dual pairs of footsteps hop downstairs. Jack instantly brightened, and he turned in his chair to smile as his kids soon came into view.

“Hey, is this a bad time?” Jazz asked. She glanced between them, and Jack immediately shook his head no. 

“No, no,” Maddie replied quickly. Jack saw her push the journal and her notes, along with her pen and a few spare lab tools, carelessly into a drawer to help assure the Fenton kids that they weren’t interrupting anything. “What’s up, sweetie?” 

“Well, I have something that I wanna talk about,” their youngest spoke slowly. Jack noticed that she had finally taken off her hoodie, and that while she wore her normal tomboy attire, that something was a bit off about her. He couldn’t place it. Jazz stood close to her, an arm full of books clutched to her chest, though he couldn’t make out any titles. “It’s something important, and I don’t really want to put it off any longer.”

“Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?” Jack asked. His daughter shook her head no. 

“Oh, no!” she said. “It’s just…” 

She took a deep breath, and soon, their son began to explain.

[yikesharringrove]

how do u feel abt doing smth like a modern au where billy is like , all this punk rock and teen angst and leather nd jean jackets kinda of thing and steve is the exact opposite of him with fluffy skirts and soft polos nd just really soft and they two have seen eachother but dont actually talk to one another until they have a school project and they just. fall in love overtime? basically , femme steve + punk rock billy falling in love.

(pt. 2) also!! happy 21st birthday 💓💕💗💖💕

The university had a strict core curriculum, meaning that Steve was ten minutes late for his Philosophy of the Modern Era class.

He couldn’t find the room, was wandering around in this basement with his schedule written on the back of his hand. He was peering at room numbers and muttering to himself 067 067 067.

“You looking for that philosophy class?” Steve turned around at the voice.

The guy was stomping down the hallway in big leather boots. His jeans were ripped and shredded, and he was wearing a black t-shirt with pink font reading Dog Park Dissidents. His denim jacket was covered in pins and patches and sharpie drawings. He had Silence = Death written on one of the pockets, Being nice IS punk rock was scrawled down one arm.

“Yeah, that modern era one?” The guy smiled and nodded, reaching forward to shake Steve’s hand. His eyes were a startling blue, lined with a thin smudge on black. His hair was wild and curly, shaved on each side into this beachy looking mohawk. He had his nose and his eyebrow pierced, along with several in his ears.

“Billy Hargrove.”

“Steve Harrington.” Steve could feel the tips of his ears go red as Billy looked him up and down. He was wearing something cute for the first day of class, a chunky white cardigan over a soft pink peasant dress. He had gotten up early to do his makeup well, and was late to class anyway because this stupid building was a fucking maze.

They set off down the hall together, looking at each door they passed by.

“Oh shit. Pretty Boy, I think I got it.” Steve flushed slightly at being called pretty, still not used to being able to dress like this in public. Billy wrenched open the door, and stomped in, not a care in the world for being twenty minutes late.

The professor raised his eyebrow.

“And what were you two doing out in the hall?”

“I’m sorry, we couldn’t find the room.” Steve’s cheeks were hot as he was standing at the front of the class.

“That’s okay. you have missed class introductions, to please say your names, pronouns and majors.”

“Billy Hargrove, he/him, double majoring in literature and social work.”

“Steve Harrington, he/they. I’m also a double major in education and early childhood development.” The professor made a note on his role sheet.

“Thank you, you may sit down.” Steve went for the back of the room, flopping into the first empty seat he could find, ducking his head as he quietly got his laptop out. Billy had stomped into the seat next to him, had gotten out a notebook and proceeded to doodle in it for the rest of class.

He sat next to Billy every Monday Wednesday and Friday from 9:20-10:35 and and outside of their ten minute search for the classroom, they had yet to say anything to one another.

It certainly didn’t help that Steve was harboring a little crush on the guy. He would watch him in class, the way he would doodle little sunflowers in the margins of his notes, smiling softly at them.

“So, for the rest of the semester you will be working in pairs. I want you to go through the readings we have completely and work together with the philosophers we have discussed to create your own system for the modern era. How do you believe society exists now?” Billy turned to Steve, grinning at him.

“You wanna be my partner?” Steve gave a sheepish smile, his heart racing.

“I, um. Yes. Yeah, I’ll be your partner.” Steve dug his phone out of the tight pocket of his skirt, trading with Billy. He put his number under Steve Harrington - Modern Era Philosphy.

“You wanna get coffee after class, start working through our beliefs?”

“Um, sure. I don’t have class until, like, 3:30 today.” Billy grinned again and fucking winked at Steve. He needed to calm the fuck down.

“So basically, a lot of my beliefs are based on the punk message.” Billy was sipping at his black coffee, had laughed and said should’ve fucking known when Steve ordered a large mocha with extra chocolate syrup, and whipped cream. “I’m a very live and let live person, but I believe everyone should live and let live. If someone is trying to dictate how others should exist, they’re fucking garbage.”

“Okay, I actually really agree with that.”

“That’s because you’re punk rock.” Steve laughed, but Billy’s eyes were serious. “No seriously, there’s nothing more punk rock than being unapologetically yourself.”

“When did you get into punk philosophy?”

“When I was in high school. My dad was a real prick, and I was angry, and a lot of punk is loud and pissed off and it helped, but then I started going to shows, and talking to people, and it’s not what you’d expect. Everyone at a show is like a weird family for a night. If someone comes in and tries to fuck with someone, the family deals. I can’t tell you how many fights I saw that broke out because someone was perving on a girl, and these other guys started protecting her. And that only grew as I started getting into queercore.”

Steve was listening to Billy, eyes wide as he described stories from shows, how he had jumped in on fights to defend the family, how he would walk girls home or to their cars parked a ways down the street, how he knew everyone would do the same for him.

“God, I wish I had a community like that. I didn’t really have anyone growing up. You know, token queer in a small town kinda vibe.” Billy smiled at him sympathetically.

“That why you came out to San Fransisco?”

“Oh yeah. Wanted to come somewhere where, this, didn’t matter.” He gestured to himself. “I just don’t get why it bothers people. I just do it because it makes me happy. I don’t know why it concerns anyone else.” Billy was nodding vigorously.

“Exactly. That’s the whole truth about being queer. People hate you for something that has nothing to do with them. It’s completely wack. Like if I’m with someone in whatever capacity, we’re both consenting adults. It literally doesn’t matter.”

“Do you think we could expand upon this enough for our project? Talk about how we feel the world should just stop caring about what other people do if it has nothing to do with them.” Billy grinned.

“I think we could make something happen.”

They began getting coffee after each class, taking through their project, finding resources to back up the ideas they had discussed. The more time they spent together, the more Steve liked Billy, liked how sweet he was, how positive. They talked about having terrible parents, how Billy’s dad had kicked him out at sixteen for being gay, how he had lived with friends, saving up to get himself through college. They talked about how Steve’s dad had found his stash of makeup and threw it all away, making sure it was ruined and broken. How disappointed his father was that he was studying to become a teacher.

There was one Friday they had met up and stayed all day in the coffee shop stayed until the 5 pm closing.

“You wanna come over? I have a single room. We can keep working.” Billy grinned at Steve like he always did, showing off all his white teeth. So they walked side by side to Steve’s room.

Steve kept his room neat, a habit left over from overbearing parents who would shame him into cleaning his room.

Steve’s room was exactly how Billy imagined.

He had soft white lights, a full length mirror on one wall. His bed was covered in pillows, duvets, and even a few stuffed animals. The wall above the bed was covered in pictures of Steve back home, several with a group of younger kids, and a lot with a blonde girl.

“This your girlfriend?” Steve snorted.

“No, that’s Robin. She and I are just really close friends.”

“What’s with the kids?” Steve blushed.

“I babysat all through high school, and those kids kinda adopted me as their pseudo parent. It was a lot of driving them all over town.”

“That’s cute. That why you wanna teach?”

“Yeah, I’m good with kids.” Steve had plopped himself on the made bed. He watched as Billy took off his heavy boots, placing them neatly by the door before stepping onto Steve’s plush grey rug. His socks were thick wool and had little cartoon dogs on them. Steve was in love.

Billy sat with Steve on the bed. He was taking a closer look at the photos.

“I could see that for you. You’re a caring type.” Steve looked down as his feet, could feel his face getting hot.

“Why did you pick social work?”

“When I was a kid, CPS would be called to our place like, once every few months. My dad was a real good schmoozer, so I would always just be left with him. I wanna be able to help kids get out of bad situations.”

“God, and you call me a caring type. You’re gonna save the world.” Billy laughed.

“The children are the future. I’ll save ‘em, you teach ‘em.” When Steve looked up, Billy was leaning closer into Steve’s space. He had a soft smile on his face. His eyes were bright and beautiful and so fucking blue. “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you, what?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” Billy still hadn’t leaned back.

“‘Cause I have a big dumb crush on you, and I think you have one on me.” Steve’s face was pink.

“I, uh, yeah. Go, go for it.” Billy laughed, taking Steve’s face in both hands. He leaned in, just gently pressing their lips together.

“So, was I right?”

“Yes. Very much so.” Billy laughed again, loud and sweet, pressing another kiss to Steve’s lips.

“You wanna go on a date? A real one? Not just us getting coffee and pretending we both weren’t totally into each other.” Steve snorted again.

“Yeah, I would really like that.”

[mellowmoonn]

Writing Help - Genres

As a writer, you really need to know what age group you intend to write for. Depending on the age, you may need to censor yourself or glaze over some heavier topics. Think of ATLA and how they never actually stated Jet died but instead insinuated it. Or, in YA novels when characters get close and the narrator skips over the most NSFW parts of the sex scene. 

Disclaimer: Keep in mind I’m writing from my knowledge and what I remember reading at a certain age. Some research has been done for accuracy. I also don’t enjoy adult novels, particularly because they tend to be too much for me (...there tends to be lots of NSFW). With that said, forgive me if the examples aren’t amazing.

Who Do You Want to Write For?

Understanding who you want to write for makes the process much easier. If you want to write horror books for children because there aren’t enough of them, great. You can then proceed to write down your ideas and focus on the scare factor as well as how detailed you want your descriptions to be. Less is more, especially for younger kids. A single sentence in middle-grade horror can disturb even me. And trust me, most things don’t bother me.

Once you know what to write for, you can study your demographic more. By that, I simply mean what people your age are interested in. This isn’t saying you cannot write what you want to for who you want to write it for, but looking at the demographics will get your book(s) out there. For example, children might not enjoy or understand romance but gravitate more to adventure, comedy, slice of life, or superhero stuff. 

What Do These Genres Entail?

You need to know what you’re getting yourself into when you write, so I’m going to give you a shortlist of genres and the content that is appropriate for each. Assuming most aren’t writing for children younger than 5, I won’t include those genres.

Remember to do your own research.

Children (5-8)

Due to childhood development, this genre varies quite a bit. I’ll generalize for simplicity.

Children between the ages of five and eight typically begin to independently read. Development varies, but using simpler language and including pictures aids them in taking in the content and understanding it.

From younger to older children: picture books, comics, short chapter books. It depends on their development and interests as well. 

Even in picture books, these are usually longer than for younger children. They never exceed 100 pages and often have larger fonts.

Characters are usually animals or younger children (some with their parents).

Book examples: Pete the Cat, Poppleton, The Magic Tree House, Fantastic Mr. Fox

Middle Grade (8-12)

Pictures are still relevant sometimes, but it depends on the book. Most kids this age can visualize and don’t need much unless it’s something like fantasy or horror (Coraline has an edition with pictures as well as a disturbing graphic novel).

Slang begins to be included at this age and more mature language. Depending on the book, simple swears like “crap” or “damn” may be used. Insults begin to pop up as jokes and body humor are more appropriate at this age.

Sometimes romance makes its way into these books, but kids these ages still gravitate to things that aren’t so “gross.” 

Middle-Grade books begin to exceed that 100-page mark and chapter book series with a logical plot and/or order comes about. 

Characters are typically human, but supernatural creatures are popular in novels in this age group.

Book examples: Coraline, Ramona’s World, Because of Winn Dixie, Charlotte’s Web, Goosebumps

Young Adult (12-18)

You (typically) won’t catch pictures in a YA book, rather vivid descriptions. The only time pictures are in books is when maps are included. Pictures are an author’s choice.

YA is also a very large genre with varying developmental stages. Some books gravitate more to middle grade, others new adult.

The genres of books boom in YA because so much more can be done. You will catch books that are strictly romance, others crime, and even mystery. 

Swearing is no longer avoided in YA novels. Characters will openly say fuck a thousand times and no one looks twice. 

YA books tend to have deeper conversations than books for younger audiences. Killing off main characters isn’t looked down upon. These books also tend to speak about and represent sex, but never in grave detail. Characters will never get past removing clothing. The issue of sex in YA is also a controversial topic that is pretty interesting when looked into.

The themes of YA books are ones that teenagers typically experience. This could be gender, sexuality, self-worth, etc.

YA books are usually between 200 and 500 pages. It depends on whether it is a novella, stand-alone, or series.

Characters are in middle or high school, to which the readers can relate to. The home and parents are also relevant. Lots of talk about family life and such.

Book Examples: The Fault in Our Stars, The Book Thief, Divergent, The Hunger Games, The Catcher in the Rye

New Adult (18-25)

Once again, pictures are usually maps and such.

NA does everything a YA does in more detail. It’s the genre for people who like YA but want a bit more or don’t want to be held back as much. When your target audience doesn’t involve children, your creative freedom can run (nearly) wild.

Sex scenes are explicit. No one questions a sex scene in a NA, nor censors them in the way YA does. The narrator doesn’t have to glaze over this, rather describing the emotional and physical aspects of it as they would with anything else.

In comparison to YA, NA books tackle different themes. A NA book might not focus on growing up, rather the independence or struggle of having grown up. More adult things such as struggles for housing and finance might arise differently than it would to someone younger watching their parents struggle and going down along with them.

NA books tend to fall in the same page range as YA books. Again, very similar, but not the same. Think of YA as the bridge between YA and Adult. A little more, but not too much.

Characters are typically between the age range of the readers, but they don’t have to be. 

Book Examples: A Court of Thorns and Roses, Lily and the Octopus, Red White and Royal Blue, Code Name: Verity, The Good Girl

Adult (25+)

Keep in mind that I do not read adult books...

I’ve never heard of photos in adult novels. Correct me if I am wrong.

Nothing is really off-limits in adult books. Anything you could ever want to write about can fit in this genre. Period pieces, historical fiction, horror, and autobiographies are often found as adult books.

Pieces are much more complex than those meant for younger audiences such as a YA or NA. They also tackle more difficult topics such as racism and abuse in more mature ways. It’s much easier to cover something like that in a book for older audiences than younger ones because you don’t necessarily have to simplify things. Focusing on the experiences of the character as if it were of coming of age isn’t as important.

The detail in adult books also changes in comparison to books for younger audiences. Whereas violence maybe something quick and easy, an adult book will drag it with vivid details. In Cirque du Freak, a middle-grade novel, the tearing of a person’s arm was described in two sentences in a way that made the reader imagine what an arm tearing would be like. In an adult book, you best be sure you’ll be reading about anatomy and immense amounts of gore.

Adult books can be short or extremely long. It depends on the genre once you hit adult books, as attention span isn’t much of a big deal anymore.

The characters in an adult book can be any age. It’s the content at this point and not who’s reading. An adult book can follow a tween/teen, an adult, or an elderly person. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is how you handle what is happening to certain characters. For example, if your character is a minor, you shouldn’t be writing graphic sex scenes. 

Book Examples: The Help, The Girl on the Train, The Handmaid’s Tale, The Kite Runner, The Shining

Conclusions

I feel like I could write more in this post, but I won’t. It will be much too long if I say anymore. It’s really up to what you like and the way you want to execute it. As a newer reader, I find that I like YA novels but gravitate to the grittier or mature ones. I dislike sex scenes, so the intimacy in YA is just enough for me. 

For my writing, I want to write a NA that can achieve what I like and in the way I enjoy it. In my reading endeavors, these past eight months, the Feverwake duology (my ever mentioned series...) has hit what I enjoy. While it is categorized as YA, the second book leans more toward NA and I love that. The way the author writes is also similar to the way I do, which is cool.

In the end, do what you love. Keep your audience in mind and remember that you don’t have to fit yourself into one genre. James Patterson wrote books for children and adults. Have I read any of his works? No, but I have family and friends who do enjoy or have enjoyed his work. You wanna write a book for your younger sibling? Do it. You want to write a book you need or want? Do it. You want to write a book that will make adults feel like children again? Do it. 

You’re the writer and write for a reason. Keep writing a passion, not a chore.

[Gif from Ouran High School Host Club]

[gabagaba05]

phew it's good to know i'm boy the only one super behind lmao

alright answering questions and asking some more because i have a funny little group of questions that mean nothing but i like to ask

alright so i do bias soonyoung 🙄🙄 didn't think you'd guess so early. i also like seokmin and minghao 🥴🤤 aLSO, WHY HAS SEUNGCHEOL BEEN LOOKING SO CUTE RECENTLY I CANT HANDLE 😩😩

outside of kpop i may or may not have had an emo phase (read: fall out boy, panic!at the disco, my chemical romance). i may or may not still listen emo music. i also LOVE CONAN GRAYYY. idk if he's still indie but i love indie too! probably one of my favorite genres though is classical (instrumental if you wanna get technical 🙄 been yelled at bc cLaSsiCaL iS a TiMe PeRiOd)

the best of us had emo phases ☝️ mine is a little longer lasting three years in middle school. due to this, fall out boy is one of my favorite artists! i’m also a big tchaikovsky fan, and i like doja cat a lot too!

in response to your question about 1518 strasbourg, this is when and where the dancing plague of 1518 happened dnsbsbshja. it's where the phrase "dance till you die" originated lmao. i think it'd be funny to witness this/take part in it. aside from that, id probably fuck with california in 1849 because the gold rush🧎‍♀️, france in the 1880s, or america in the 1980/1990s! i’m a history nerd courtesy of my father, so i choose all my time periods based off some of my favorite historical events! 1880s for architecture mostly, gold rush because lawlessness and the "wild west", and the 80s for the cold war :)

the night is beautiful if you take the time to live it. for me, my favorite time across the board is lunch time-12:00 ish to 3:00 just because the sun is highest and i feel happiest! i like the night when i go out on bike rides because i feel alive/ like i’m not wasting my teen years

GIRL IM NORTHEAST US TOO DJNSBSBSVABWB #goals lmao

i have 1 sister and she's super annoying🙄 i also have 2 cats and a dog (i consider them my siblings)

the most recent show i binged and finished was criminal minds, and i tried supernatural but it's just so bad i cant get past season 11. i’m working on hannibal right now!

the last book i really enjoyed was the summer i turned pretty! i’m a sucker for romance books 😩

questions i've got:

- do you have any siblings or pets?

- do you play any instruments?

- what's your favorite font?

- how many pillows and stuffed animals do you sleep with? (i have too many to count)

- would you rather live in an urban, suburban, or rural setting?

I FRIKIN KNEW U BIASED SOONYOUNG UR VIBES R SO HORANGHE I COULD JUST TELL and i gotta say ur the second person who’s had both minghao and soonyoung on ur bias list and i just find that so funny cuz they’re polar opposites to me (also u have impeccable taste with minghao that boy is my ult and has my whole heart) AND OMG RIGHT??? seungcheol needs to *CHILL*😤

omg yes conan gray😫 this is gonna sound whiny but heather was one of my favorite songs of his before it became a tiktok trend💅

and yes the best of us *did* have emo phases, mine lasted from late 8th grade into the first half of freshman year, so it was kinda short lived but it still happened lol

also, seeing tchaikovsky and doja cat next to each other in a sentence is so funny (but in a weird way i get it lol) i’m not the *biggest* classical/instrumental fan, but i have def used it as study music when songs with lyrics r just too distracting. back to doja tho!! have u listened to her new album?? do u have a fav song off of it? (i haven’t listened to all of it but i do have a couple that i rlly like)

omg how did i not recognize that u were talking abt the dancing plague!!!!!🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ idk if u watch buzzfeed unsolved or watcher but they have a series called puppet history and the episode on the dancing plague is one of my favorites! also omg yes another history nerd who knows abt history b/c of her dad!!!! i’m prob most knowledgeable abt wwii, the civil rights movement in the us, and the spanish civil war cuz those r my dads main interests and i was sat down in front of documentaries abt those topics at the age of like, 3 lol. and wanting to experience the wild west is such a perfect and iconic era to want to live in, and wanting to experience the cold war is so funny (b/c i’m sure the ppl who were living it without knowing the ending like us felt the exact opposite lol)

and yes the night is so beautiful when u just give it ur attention. like, on my birthday it was raining and i didn’t have school the next day (and my birthdays i’m may so it was pretty warm) so i just went outside at like, midnight ish and listened to the rain and crocheted and it was truly so nice 😫 also omg last year when covid had us all at home i went for a bike ride almost every day after school to just get out of my room and it was so nice!! it was my bike from when i was like, 12 but i’m 4’11 so i was still able to ride it without a problem lsnsksns

and yes pets r absolutely siblings, my cat prob acts more like s typical sibling than my two younger siblings do lsnsksns (srsly tho my cat is an asshole she fucked up my leg the other day cuz i gave her food late smh)

omg hun season 11?? how many seasons of that goddamn show r there??? i couldn’t get past episode 1😭 (i rlly only started watching it b/c of dean from gilmore girls sksnksns) the show i’m currently bingeing rn tho is downton abbey, as i’m sure u can tell from how much downton shit u had to scroll past to find my answer to ur last ask alskkskjsjs (i’m so so sorry 😭)

ooo that sounds like a rlly good book title, what was it abt? i just finished a secret history (which FUCKED ME UP MY GOD THERES A LOT OF MURDER) and i’m currently working on the sequel to my name is asher lev by chaim potok (who is one of my fav jewish/classic literature authors and also just a rlly good author in general)

for ur questions:

-yes i do have siblings! two younger (one four and a half years younger and one a little over nine years younger than me so i’m the oldest by quite a bit lol) and i do have a pet! my cat sweetie who is an asshole who i love very much

-i took piano for like a year in second grade but then third grade happened and i was rlly bad at math so my parents switched from paying for piano lessons to paying for math tutoring lessons and i now remember literally nothing from piano lessons sksnksns

-i,,, dont think i have a favorite font? i do like to write in cursive and have a collection of calligraphy pens that i bust out on special occasions so there’s that i guess lol

-ok i have two normal pillows, one chair/armrest/pillow thing (idk if that makes sense but that’s the only way i know how to describe it sksnksns), a body pillow, and a single stuffed bear that live on my bed

-ooo so this is difficult for me cuz i technically live in a suburb but we’re *right next* to a major city in my state (like i’m a 20ish min car ride from my states baseball stadium and a 20 min walk to the college of the major city) so this has kinda made me rlly like both? like, i like the quiet of the suburbs but i cant handle not being able to walk to the closest boba shop or movie theatre or bookshop but i also don’t rlly love the noise and lights that there are in the city at night. so idk sksnksns

what do u like more tho? the city or the suburbs? also since u asked the question i’m assuming u have a fav form and i’m now rlly interested in finding out what it is lol

goodnight!❤️ (or good morning if ur seeing this in the morning since i’m answering this at midnight lol)

[dcforts]

[ring for an angel]

11k, half au, ao3.

Dean speeds up as soon as he spots the blinking Rooms Available sign half a mile away. The tires squeal on the wet asphalt as he makes a rapid turn and enters the parking lot.

It’s not a big place. Ten rooms or less, all ground floor. The blue neon sign on top of the short building says Feathers in a friendly font and has a pair of little wings and a halo to blink with it.

Pretty tacky, if you were to ask Dean in another moment. But right now, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass how the place is called. Right now, he’s got Sam slumped in the passenger seat, wet like a fish and shaking with cold.

They had an unplanned encounter with two vetalas they were hunting a couple of towns back. In the last few weeks the vetalas had lurked on a hiking trail, casually bumping into tourists to steal something valuable from them, only to attack them once they returned on their steps to search for it. Being the middle of winter, they’d been feasting undisturbed, favoured by the small numbers of people that braved the paths and by the sun setting early.

Dean and Sam waited the early hours of the morning to cross the police tapes and track them, but the trail was long, it was dark and cold and the vetalas had the advantage of being familiar with the grounds.

They hadn’t seen them coming.

They would have still managed to overpower them if only one of them hadn’t pushed Sam into a lake and fled and Dean had been too worried getting him out of the freezing water, to worry about the other one fleeing as well.

He got him quickly to the car, but all the motels they passed by were full, and every mile Dean had driven had seemed a mile too far and every second a second too long to have Sam paling and shivering and half unconscious in the Impala.

He had stripped him of his heavy jacket and shirt, draped his own jacket and flannel over him, trying to dry him as best as he could, and cranked the heating at its max, but Baby could only do so much. Outside the windows, it looked like it was about to snow.

Dean increasingly worried about the way Sam seems to slip more and more into unconsciousness. He tried to keep him talking, slapping his chest and asking him questions but for the last ten minutes or so, Sam had his head lolling on one side and his replies had become only barely coherent mumbles.

But they are here now. Dean stops the car and shakes him awake one more time; he touches his face, tries to meet his eyes.

“Hey, Sammy, look at me,” he says and Sam seems to make an effort to focus on him, “we are here. We’re gonna get you inside now, you hear me?” he says. “You just gotta hold on for one more minute. I’m gonna check us in and you’ll be warm in no time.”

Sam’s nod is weak and his pale face is not at all reassuring, but Dean knows it will do no good to stay in the car. He needs to get him inside.

So he braves the cold in only his t-shirt for the short jog it takes to get to the lobby. It’s a little inviting square of bright light. Mostly glass doors, which is an unusual choice for a motel, and especially not in a place of the country where it gets this cold. But the glass turns out to be thicker than it looks and the room, surprisingly warm. Dean finds himself exhaling relieved, as the door closes behind him.

The place is definitely new, all furniture is shiny clean and modern. In a corner, a few tables make up the breakfast area with a brand new model of coffee machine. Everything is in white, except the light wood counter right in front of Dean, that has engraved on it a replica of the blue sign that is outside. Dean only now notices that everything is angel and heaven themed. There are little white wings on blue wallpapers all around him that make the place look like a nursery. Behind the counter, there’s an open door that gives into a dimly lit backroom. But as far as humans, no one.

“Hello?” Dean calls, frowning and craning his neck to try and spot someone moving inside.

He turns towards the parking lot again and sure enough, it started snowing. Irritated by the delay, he approaches the counter and spots a little desk bell. It’s painted light blue and it says Ring For An Angel to match the theme of the place.

Dean hits the bell a couple of times but nothing happens. “Hello?” he calls, and he hits the bell again and again, nervously tapping on the wood with his other hand. He spots an open book next to keyboard of the main computer. Someone is there then. Dean doesn’t stop hitting the damn bell.

Come on.

How long a piss break can take?

He is about to shout “Hello?” again when, finally, someone emerges from the backroom.

It’s a guy about his height, dark hair and striking blue eyes. He is wearing just a white shirt and a blue vest with a tag that reads Steve and he’s carrying a steaming mug in his left hand. He lingers on the threshold, between dark and light and stands there, just watching him.

“Yes?” he says then, in a wary tone. His voice is deep and husky, as if he just woke up, and if you were to ask Dean in another moment, it was like the bow on an already rather attractive package, but right now Dean is too irked by his attitude to pay him that kind of attention.

What does he think he could he possibly want?

Okay, maybe aggressively hitting their desk bell and coming in from the snow with his arms bare and probably dirt smeared across his face, it’s not exactly the best first impression Dean’s ever given to someone. But who cares? He just wants him to do his job.

“I need a double for tonight. If you could make it fast,” he says, hastily. He ignores the way the guy just keeps standing there, watching him – he can be weird, but honestly, he’s seen worse – and fishes out his wallet to grab a credit card. He slams it on the counter.

“Make it two nights.”

Finally, the guy moves.

“I need to see some identification,” he says, placing aside his mug and exchanging it in his hand with Dean’s card. He studies it meticulously, looking at each side and everything.

Crap.

Usually at this time of night nobody even bothers with this. Dean has no idea whose name’s on the card he just gave him and he can’t really deal with this when Sam’s in those conditions back in the car. He pulls out one of his fake IDs and hopes for the best.

But of course the guy – Steve – does the opposite of giving it a once over, like anybody else would. In fact, the asshole holds the ID next to the credit card and, upon inspection, clicks his tongue.

He looks at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“And how would you like me to register you, as Mr. Houdini or as Mr. Plant?” he says. He doesn’t look even a little bit amused.

Dean isn’t either. He clenches his fist and his jaw. He tries to keep calm but he just doesn’t have time to waste with this guy.

“Either works.”

“Not for me.”

“Alright, Poirot,” he bites out, “it’s my uncle’s card. Do you wanna call him in the middle of the night to check?”

Steve levels him with a hard stare.

“No, but I can ask you to leave.”

Dean pales. He feels the ground giving in underneath him.

“Jesus. Look, I don’t need this right now. I got a medical emergency. The card works, just give me the room.”

He knows he sounds distressed and as he hardens his tone and raises his voice, possibly a little scary, but he is just out of options. This is it. He doesn’t know what he can possibly do if the guy actually kicks him out of there.

The guy stays impossibly calm and that just adds to Dean’s anger.

“If you refuse to leave, I can call the police.”

“Damn it! I don’t have time for this.” he says making eye contact to try and get through to him. What is he, some kind of robot? Does he even blink? “You don’t understand. My brother is sick -”

“I could recommend another establishment three miles ahead. They are less selective with their guests. I’m sure they’ll be happy to welcome you.”

Fuck. Dean hits the counter with a fist so hard that the little bell shakes and a handful of business cards slide down from their pile. Steve doesn’t even flinch. Dean exhales heavily and tries to calm down. This isn’t doing any good.

“I can’t go any farther. Believe me, I would,” he says, matching his cold stare and trying to keep the volume of his voice in check. “My brother is outside in my car and he’s freezing to death,” he says, enunciating every word. Steve impassive façade crumbles a little. He looks suspicious, frowns and titls his head a little to the side. Dean keeps going, sensing an opening. “He can’t possibly go another mile in this snow. I can’t take him anywhere else. You gotta let me take him in.”

Steve blinks at him like he’s trying to understand if he is in fact out of his mind as he seems. “What?”

“My brother,” he repeats, still firm but now pleading, “he is soaking wet and unresponsive and I need to warm him up before he dies of hypothermia. I’m not lying, I’m begging here. I need you to do me this solid, man. And it’s gotta be now. Please,” he says, almost out of breath.

Steve searches his face with an inquisitive look for a long moment in which Dean can feel his heartbeat speed up. Then Dean sees him reach under the counter and he holds his breath. He may have a shotgun or one of those buttons that calls security or something. Instead what he holds up and slides over the counter is a room key.

“3 B” he says.

Dean exhales in relief, looks at the key, then up at him. In a second he’s grabbed it and he ran out again. The cold bites his bare arms but he’s almost at the Impala and he doesn’t care.

He opens the passenger door and lets Sam up, slinging one of his arms over his shoulders to carry him more easily.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy, come on, I need you to walk now, can you do that? We’re almost there.”

But Sam barely moves. “Sammy?” he calls again, more urgent now. “You gotta help here.”

Sam tries to take a step but his legs give out under him. “I can’t do it.” he says. “It’s too cold.”

“Course you can. The door’s just there,” Dean says, struggling to keep himself upright too.

Then he hears footsteps behind them and suddenly the weight becomes more bearable as Steve is holding Sam up from the other side.

“Come on,” he simply says, in response to Dean’s silent question. Dean sees that he doesn’t have his coat on either, he must have been right behind him. Dean nods and accepts his help.

Together they can easily lift him and get him inside. Dean leaves Steve to lower him on the bed closest to the door as he turns on the lights, checks the heater and starts a warm bath.

Then he is over Sam again, untying his boots and taking off his socks and addressing him gently but urgently to keep him talking. He feels Steve’s eyes on him the whole time, boring the side of his face. He has taken a step back and he’s watching them from the door with a thoughtful expression. Dean looks up at him and not unkindly he says: “I got it from here”.

Steve nods, catching the drift. He says “I’ll be in the office,” and slips out of the room, clicking the door shut behind his back.

*

Three hours later, Dean can’t sleep. He is sitting at a little table against one of the walls and he is watching over Sam, finally asleep on his stomach, clutching his pillow. He promised him he wouldn’t do that, but he can’t help it.

It took a warm bath, dry clothes, a long sesh with the hairdryer (and a half-fight about hair length), all the blankets in the room, a cup of tea – that Steve brought on his own initiative, knocking lightly on their door – two temperature check and a hundred or so questions about how he was feeling, but Dean is fairly certain that Sam is fine now.

Dean is also fine. He doesn’t feel his heart in his throat anymore. He is tired, but he can’t sleep. He will be able to really relax only when the sun will come out and Sam will wake up and he will be able to forget about all of this. If he goes to sleep now, he knows he’ll only have nightmares.

But his legs are feeling stiff and Sam’s snoring is not very entertaining, so he takes out some change from his jeans and heads out.

The jacket that he used on Sam is still hanging to dry so Dean has to make do with just an extra shirt. Thankfully the snow has let up and he is only planning on making a quick stop to the vending machine he saw outside earlier.

As he walks towards it though, his eyes are drawn to the bright light that comes from the main building across the parking lot. No one seems to be in sight but Dean now knows who’s there. And he also knows that he kinda owns him an apology.

So he pockets his change once again and takes off towards it.

As the glass door swings open and he lets a swirl of cold air inside, Steve looks up. He is sitting on a high stool behind the counter now, and has his book on his lap.

Dean greets him with a nod as the door closes behind him.

“Hey.”

“How is your brother?” Steve asks, same cold tone and deep voice.

Dean stops one foot short from the counter. “He’s gonna be fine,” he says. “Sleeping now.”

Steve nods and doesn’t offer anything else. “So,” Dean shrugs in the awkward silence, “just thought I’d come say ‘sorry’ about earlier. I’m not usually such a jerk. You really saved my ass though, so, thanks.”

Steve appraises him for a long moment and in the end he asks, “What happened to him?” again sounding a little suspicious.

“Slipped into a lake. Just an accident” Dean gets closer to the counter, and clumps his hands together on the wood, trying to make it sound like it’s not a big deal. "He’s a little clumsy."

Steve’s frown deepens. “Why didn’t you bring him to an hospital?”

“It would be a little difficult to explain.”

“What would be?”

Dean tilts his head on one side and sighs. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you and you wouldn’t even wanna know, trust me.”

Steve doesn’t seem like he trusts him even one bit. In fact, he doesn’t seem to appreciate at all his evasive answers.

“If it makes you feel any better, we’re not bad guys.” Dean adds, going for charming, trying to melt the ice a little.

Steve still looks at him unimpressed. “That is exactly what a bad guy would say.”

And somehow the stark contrast between what he said and the way he said it makes it sound funny even if Steve didn’t intend to. Dean lets out a laugh and seeing him throwing his head back, one corner of Steve’s mouth tilts upwards ever so slightly.

The air around them lightens up a little and for the first time Dean takes in Steve’s mussed hair and broad shoulders, his strong arms, his tights trapped in his jeans. Dean realizes he may have checked him out a little too obviously when his eyes snap up and unsurprisingly he’s being stared at. He covers up his embarrassment asking: “So, whatcha reading?”

But Steve doesn’t seem in the mood to indulge his curiosity. He ignores his question and stands up to stop right in front of him. Despite the counter between them the guy is suddenly at a distance that Dean would deem a little too close for comfort for a stranger, and from where he finds himself now, he is forced to look up at him a little. But there’s a challenge in the way he confidently entered his personal space and Dean is not going to be the one who backs down.

Steve keeps eye contact as he takes something from under the counter and drops it in the space between his arms, right behind his clasped hands. Dean looks down: it’s his wallet.

“You forgot your personal effects.”

The wallet is closed and the credit card and ID have been put back inside, meaning that with every probability Steve has seen all the other stolen credit cards.

Dean is taken off guard but he’s determined to not give him the satisfaction of seeing him bothered, so he doesn’t move, says nothing and keeps challenging his gaze. Steve has an unreadable expression on his face, but judging from the lack of sirens swarming the place he hasn’t called the police. At least, not yet. He is staring at him as if he’s trying to see inside of him and from that distance, the intensity of his blue eyes make Dean’s skin tingle.

“I charged the room to your uncle,” Steve speaks again. "One of your many uncles apparently.”

Dean does his best not show how uneasy he feels.

He grins: "Guess you're not very familiar with the concept of privacy," he mutters, sliding his wallet in his back pocket.

"And you must be very familiar with the concept of theft."

"Hey, that's a very offensive assumption."

"Just an observation."

"Alright, then why haven't you called the police?"

He knows that he’s pushing his luck, this guy could make a phone call right away if Dean pisses him off. But there’s something that tells him that he won’t. He leans more heavily against the counter and the distance between them shortens still. He briefly licks his lips and grins cheekily up at him.

"You can say it's cause I'm handsome," he adds, teasing, breaking the silence.

Steve recedes of a few steps. "Your brother needed help," he says plainly, resuming his position on the stool, “I wanted to help.”

“And I appreciate that. Is there something I can do to repay you?”

Steve frowns. “I don’t want anything.”

“Oh, come on, we are friends now.”

Steve stays silent.

“Alright,” Dean grins. “Then allow me to give you a piece of advice. If you wanna be successful in this business, you really need to cut it out with the third degree. Cause, one,” he says, holding up a finger, “no one likes a busybody. And two,” he holds up another, “people coming to places like this expect the situation to be a little more chill when it comes to paperwork and whatnot. They aren’t gonna appreciate you playing the Spanish Inquisition with them, you know what I mean?”

“I just want the guests to be safe. I’m not going to endanger them letting just anyone walk in.”

“You made an exception for me,” Dean says, and it’s meant to be playful but it hangs heavy in the air.

Steve doesn’t break eye contact as he says “I did,” like he’s asking him not to make him regret his decision. If Dean had a collar now it would be a good time to tug at it. Man, the guy can be a scary son of a bitch with those eyes and all.

“Well, as I said, I’m not here to endanger anybody,” he says, rolling his eyes. "Alright, look, I can answer some more question if it’ll make you feel better.”

“And you’re going to answer truthfully?”

“Yeah.”

Dean starts to relax as he sees Steve’s face lights up with curiosity and for the first time since they met it’s the kind that it’s not suspicious, just genuinely interested. Then with a hint of saracasm, Steve asks, “Why are you here?”

“Working.”

“You and your brother are in the same line of business?”

“Yeah.”

“Which is?”

Dean stays silent, looks down at his hands, smirking slightly.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Let me guess. You’re not going to tell me because I wouldn’t understand nor wanna know.”

“Well, it’s true.” Dean shrugs in his defence. “But, it’s not what you think.”

Steve doesn’t press further but says, “He is your little brother, right?” Dean frowns a little and Steve adds, gentle: “You seemed very caring.”

“Yeah, well, it’s just us. We look out for each other.” He clears his throat. Steve must sense his uneasiness because he lets this one drop as well.

"Is your car stolen?" Steve asks then, out of the blue.

"What? No!” exclaims Dean, shifting on the spot. “That’s my baby. We’ve been together forever." He sounds outraged and Steve seems amused by it. “It’s a family car,” he grumbles, settling down.

“Do you carry a gun?”

Dean opens his mouth but no lie comes out of it. He gives him an apologetic look. "Generally, yeah."

Steve looks at him sternly. “Did you have one on you when came in the first time?”

“No, Jesus, who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. You won’t tell me.”

Dean sighs and then plasters a big grin on his face. “My name is Dean Winchester, I’m from Lawrence, Kansas and I’m a Sagittarious. That’s it, really, it’s all there is to know.” 

“Somehow I doubt that.” Steve says but he has his lips stretched in a half smile and Dean is gonna take it as a win. “But it’s nice to finally know your name, Dean.”

Hearing him say his name makes Dean’s heart strangely flutter for a second. “So, you satisfied?”

Steve lifts a shoulder. He seems to have relaxed as well.

Silence falls then and fills up the space all around them. There’s only the tired whirring of the computer informing them that it’s still alive and kicking and the hands on the wall clock that ticks away the night.

Dean doesn’t like the bright light, it makes the place look like the reception of a corporate office but he likes the way it smells, sweet, sugary, almost like – candy? It’s nice and Dean doesn’t want to go back to his room just yet.

He looks over his shoulder at the rest of the space, the heavy carpet at his feet, the fake plant in a corner, and his eyes linger on the pamphlet rack on the far end of the counter, stacked with local spring events brochures and hiking trails maps. He picks one up and gives it a once over.

“I heard about the missing people. Pretty freaky, uh?” he says, casually. “Did you know any of them? Heard they were mostly locals.”

“No. I- I moved here recently.”

The hesitation catches Dean’s attention. “Hm.” he puts the map back on the rack and focuses on Steve again. “From where?”

“New York,” he replies, a little reluctantly, and that picks up Dean’s interest even more.

Dean whistles and settles once again with his elbows on the counter. “Must be one hell of a change.”

“It’s quieter.”

“Got family here?”

“Just my brother, Gabriel, that moved when I did. My other siblings stayed in New York.”

“So, how did you end up here, then?”

Steve sighs and shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

“Got all night.” Dean shrugs, then still sensing resistance he insists. “Hey, I answered your questions. Seems only fair you do the same.”

“If you call those ‘answers’,” he retorts actually air quoting and it makes Dean huff a laugh. He is starting to really like the guy. He’s kind of dorky but he’s cute and Dean is not sure if he’s ever felt more at ease with someone he just met than he does with him right now.

After another moment, Steve speaks again. “When Gabriel and I left New York, we went on a road trip. We were passing through and had a room here. The place was in shambles; but for some reason, Gabriel fell in love with it and, just - bought it. I guess he saw the potential in it.” he recounts. A fond smile blossoms on his lips. “He can be – very impulsive.”

“So you got stuck.”

Steve shakes his head. “We invested in it together. I was happy to stay.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen, I think you did a bang up job with the place,” he says, “Might even see myself sticking around for a couple more days. If something interesting to do comes up,” he says and grins suggestively.

But Steve frowns. “I’m afraid there’s not much to do around here. They closed all the hiking trails because of the missing people,” he says thoughtfully, completely unreceptive of Dean’s flirtation.

Dean rolls his eyes a little. “Right.” 

“It’s better to visit during the summer. They even have concerts up on the mountains. They come from all over the world to see them.” he says and his voice gets a dreamy tone. “You get to meet all kinds of people.”

“Sounds nice.” he clicks is tongue and tries again. “So you brother is the owner, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why is the place basically about you?”

Steve squints at him, confused. “How do you mean?”

“You know,” Dean grins and wiggles his eyebrows, “an angel.” Steve scoffs surprised and shakes his head as if he’s embarrassed to hear that, but Dean keeps going, “Helping me out even thought I didn’t deserve it. Trusting me. Giving me a chance when anyone else would have thrown me out,” he even throws in a wink.

“I would have never left someone to die out in the cold,” he says, but his cheeks are pinkier than they were a moment ago.

Dean gives him another of his patented dumb grins. “See? An angel in the flash right there,” he jokes and he even makes a show of ringing the little bell . “This must be the real deal. I mean, I rang for an angel and you showed up, didn’t you?”

Steve shakes his head again.

Dean leans over on the counter and lowers his voice. “Hey, you know what they say about freckles?”

“I don’t?” Steve says, surprised by the question. His gaze is drawn to the freckles all over his face and Dean feels his skin heat up.

“Well, you should look it up and let me know what you think then.”

They share a smile. The air gets charged and Dean gets a little dizzy. He bites his lower lip as his eyes follow the lines on Steve’s face, from his brow, his nose, his chin, along the line of his jaw covered in stubble and down his strong neck. Dean realizes he is shamelessly staring again.

With an almost involuntary intake of breath, he raps his knuckles on the wood. “Alright, uh, I should probably go check on my brother now.”

Steve nods, blinking rapidly, and he seems a little shaken too.

"And I should get ready to leave. My shift is almost over."

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Dean pulls back. “See you later, Steve,” he says, but all he receives is a confused look back.

“My name is not Steve.”

“Uh? Your vest says it is.”

“Oh,” he says, looking down at his clothes as if he only now remembers that he’s wearing them, “this isn’t mine. I’m just filling for someone else.”

Dean makes a pleasantly surprised sound. “Well, well, looks like I’m not the only one with a concealed identity after all.”

Not-Steve quirks his lips and says: “My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel." repeats Dean and he likes the way the name rings in his mouth new and unfamiliar. "Wait, so you’re saying you don’t work here?”

“No,” he says, “well, not usually. Only if they need me.”

“You know if they’ll need you tomorrow?” Cause I was kinda hoping to see you again, he doesn’t add, but Castiel must hear it anyway because he slighly blushes again.

“I have a shift at the library. Actually I should be opening in a couple of hours,” he pauses throwing a look at the wall clock, but then adds. “But maybe I can ask if Steve needs another night shift covered.”

Dean flashes his teeth. “Awesome.” then he eyes the clock above the counter too and sees that it’s five past seven already. He hasn’t notice because it’s still dark outside.

He makes a sympathetic face. “You are going straight to work after this? No hours of sleep?”

Castiel shrugs, “I’ll manage,” he says, but he hasn’t time to add anything else cause someone pushes open the glass door behind Dean and with a way too cheerful voice for that hour of the day exclaims: “I’ve got the kielbasa you ordered!”

A short blond guy comes in, carrying a big box that Dean instantly knows contains at least a dozen glazed donuts, and he can tell because his sense of smell when it comes to delicious food has never failed him. He feels his mouth watering and his stomach grumbles.

The guy says loudly and obnoxiously, “Good morning everyone!”

“Hello, Gabriel.” Castiel greets him.

“Cassie, what are you doing still here? I told you, you could leave early. You’re gonna be late for work.”

Castiel looks at Dean and then back at his brother, “I was with a guest.”

Gabriel follows the trajectory of his gaze and wiggles his eyebrows in an unsettling way, if you ask Dean.

“I see” he says, with a deep theatrical voice.

He rounds the counter and opens the box, angling it toward Castiel so that he can grab a napkin and a donut. Dean almost shouts “Ha!” as he discovers his predictions were correct. Those donuts look as delicious as they smell, and he can’t take his eyes off of them. He catches Castiel giving Gabriel an insistent look that prompts him to say, with a sight: “And does the gentlemen here have breakfast included, by any chance?”

“Yes,” Castiel says and Dean could kiss him right then if it wasn’t for the counter between them.

Gabriel rolls his eyes and open the big box to let Dean select a donut.

“And one for my brother,” he says, quickly snatching another before the lid closes on his fingers.

“Fine, two donuts! But now shoo Romeo, or Juliet here is gonna be late, and I’m the one they’re gonna blame,” he says, disappearing in the backroom.

Castiel wraps his donut in the napkin while Dean dives in unceremoniously on his. He watches as Castiel slips off his vest from his shoulders and starts gathering his things going in and out the backroom.

Then the glass door opens again and a petite dark haired woman walks in. She is dressed in all black and she’s sporting a pair of big dark sunglasses even if the sun is barely out.

She stops in her tracks as soon as she sees Dean. “Morning,” she drawls in a melodic voice, eyeing him up and down. Dean is on his second donut. Sam can’t miss what he never knew he had, after all.

He gives her a courteous quick nod, not bothering to cover his mouth full and the sugar all over his lips.

“Morning, Meg,” says Castiel behind him, and her attention shifts.

“Clarence, what are you doing still here?” she asks with the same phlegm, but Dean can sense a little exasperation as well, as if it’s something she often directs at him, “don’t tell me Gabriel is late again,” she is saying as she joins Castiel behind the counter.

“No, I was just about to go.”

She slides her sunglasses on her nose to look from Castiel to Dean and she keeps her eyes on him as she passes behind Castiel, making a show of trailing his shoulders with her fingertips. “Well, have a good day then, dear.” She says sweetly, disappearing in the backroom.

Castiel presses his lips together and gives Dean a somewhat apologetic look.

“She is a friend. And the bookkeeper,” he explains.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Yeah well, you know what they say about people who wear sunglasses inside.”

Castiel looks at him confused.

“I don’t.”

Dean stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Forget it, another time, looks like you’re late already.”

Castiel’s eyes widen, “Right,” he says, as if he’d forgotten again that he was supposed to leave.

Dean downs the last piece of donut and eyes the coffee machine in the corner.

“Hey, coffee is free, right?”

Castiel throws a “Yes,” over his shoulder as he disappears once again into the backroom.

He remerges a moment later wearing a tan winter jacket and a wool beanie while Dean is still trying to figure out which damn button to press. Shouldn’t latest models be simpler? He turns back to Castiel who’s shouldering his backpack.

“How the hell does this work?”

Castiel huffs a laugh, grabs his car keys and goes to stand next to him. He quickly flips a switch, puts in place a paper cup and fiddles with the commands on the touch screen; the machine starts whirring. Dean realizes that they’re on the same side of the room for the first time in the whole night, if they don’t count the rescue mission for Sam. They are both looking at the coffee that is now filling the cup but Dean can’t help sneaking a glance at his profile, his straight nose and pink lips. He smells of some kind of sweet herbal tea and fresh snow, and Dean is inexplicably drawn to it.

The machine whirrs to a stop and starts beeping.

“Here you go,” Steve says, his voice low, and their fingers brush on the warm cup as he hands it to Dean. “Sugar?” he asks, now almost in a whisper.

Dean just shakes his head as if enchanted, and he kind of feels like he is, especially when Castiel smiles at him. It’s a pressing of lips but it reaches his eyes.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.”

They both take a step back from each other like something just dropped at their feet and Dean realizes they were standing far too close than he thought. Suddenly, unprotected by the counter, he feels a little weird and seems like Castiel is feeling awkward as well.

He walks around him maintaining the distance, almost advancing on the side like a grab.

“Bye then.”

Dean nods and gives him an embarrassed wave.

Castiel hesitates with a gloved hand on the handle. He looks back at him.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Not going anywhere,” smiles Dean.

Castiel quickly turns around once again, and this time he pushes open the door and exits but Dean’s pretty sure he saw a smile on his lips.

He drinks his coffee and watches him as he walks towards his car. Then he loses him from his sight as someone in the room calls his attention back.

It’s Meg. She’s glaring at him, pointing at what Dean assumes are the donut crumbs that he left all over the counter. “How would you call this?”

She looks at him with her eyebrows raised, as she expects him to apologize but Dean goes towards the door and cheekily says: “A five stars breakfast. Thank you.”

Meg mutters something after him but he’s already out of the door and he can’t hear her.

*

Sam is still sound asleep when he goes back to their room. As the sun rises all the worries of the night before have disappeared. His encounter with Castiel has filled him with a lightness he can’t explain. He thinks it’s mostly sleep deprivation.

He takes a shower and when he gets out, he’s still feeling it. When Sam gets up, and he’s got glassy eyes, a nasty cough and a runny nose, and Dean argues with him to make it stay in bed – uselessly – but after that, he’s still feeling it. He even catches a nap as Sam showers and resumes his restless tapping on his laptop. And when he wakes up, he’s still feeling it.

Sam notices that there’s something different with him, because he keeps calling him back to reality, snapping his fingers and looking at him all weird as they plan what to do with the vetalas.

Dean insists Sam takes it easy and stays in for the rest of the morning – he complies, not without putting up a fight - while he drives back to the hiking trail. They fear the vetalas might have attacked again while they’ve been away, but there are no signs of them anywhere.

Which is still bad. If the vetalas skipped town they’re back at square one, and can only wait for their next attack, which could be anywhere, in a day or in a month from now.

But maybe they’re just staying low for a few days, thinking Sam and Dean will move on. Sam is really bummed out when they talk about it but Dean doesn’t think it would be too bad to stay around a few days more.

He gets back around noon to pick Sam up and go get something to eat. As they drive around Dean gets a chance to take a look at the town, the little shops, the tidy sidewalks, the nice little houses with their nice little gardens. “Hey, this place’s not so bad, uh?” he says.

Sam looks up from his tablet. “What?” he asks, like he was not paying attention. He sneezes. “Dean, we need to decide what to do,” he says then, but Dean is distracted by the tall building with the stone step they’re passing by. Hanging on the wall outside there’s a brass plaque that says Library.

“Uh?”

“Dean, are you okay? Have you, like, slept enough?”

Dean finally turns towards him, flashes him a smile. “You know what I think? I think we should look at some books,” he says, like he’s had a revelation.

“What?” Sam seems even more confused.

“Yeah, you know, get to know more about the local history, see if we can spot a pattern. Maybe these vetalas have been around for years. We should check for robberies gone bad too. I’m just saying,” he raises his eyebrows. “books always served us good.”

Sam opens his mouth but Dean cuts him off before he can retort.

“Let’s do this way. I’m gonna go to the library, okay? Do some digging. And I’ll see you back at the motel tonight and we’ll see what we got.”

“What? Tonight? Are you out of your mind?”

“Yeah, man, you know I’m a slow reader.”

“Seriously? You’re a faster reader than I am.” Sam is one bitch face away from losing his temper. He exhales, then says: “Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean rolls his eyes, but then he can’t restrain a smile, especially with Sam’s eyes that nags him to talk.

“Alright,” he concedes. He feels a blush rising on his cheeks and he keeps his eyes on the road to avoid looking at Sam. “There’s this guy – you know, the one back at the motel that helped us out last night.”

“Yeah?”

“He works at the library. Just thought I’d pay him a visit, that’s all.”

“And why would you - ” Sam cuts himself off and silence falls upon them. Sam clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable.”

So they decide over lunch that Sam is gonna drop him off at the library so that Dean can check the archives to see if there’s been attacks on different hiking trails in the area, see if they’ve got another habitual spot they might have switched to. Dean is paying for their lunch when on a whim also pays for a coffee to go.

Sam raises his eyebrows when he sees the coffee in Dean’s hand but thankfully he doesn’t comment on it. He assures him that he will keep his distance from lakes and other body of waters as he carries his own research, asking questions in tourist points in the nearby towns where hiking trails start and end.

The library is a small edifice of just a couple of rooms one after the other and Dean sees Castiel right away, behind the circular desk at the entrance. He is wearing a thick blue sweater, with a zipper down the front and snowflakes across his chest. It looks soft and warm and Dean wonders would it would feel like to press his face against it and how it would smell like, most likely of candy, fresh snow and herbal tea. Then he tells himself to get a grip because he is feeling way too happy to see someone he met less than a day ago.

Castiel is turned mostly away from the door and he is busy with a visitor so he doesn’t spot him right away. Dean hovers around the entrance, takes a peek at the newspaper rack by the door, until he sees the visitor passing him by towards the exit.

Castiel looks his way as he’s approaching him. He freezes in spot and Dean gets to see his eyes widen and his lips parting in surprise.

“Dean,” he says in a breath.

Dean flashes him a big smile. “That’s me.” He gets closer and confidently slips the coffee towards him. “Brought you coffee. For helping with Sammy and – not calling the police, I guess,” he says.

Castiel stares at the coffee and looks up at him again and Dean realizes. Castiel does look surprised – but not happily surprised. His gaze on him is intense and makes him shift on the spot.

Dean’s smile dims. Maybe he made a mistake, maybe he got it all wrong. Maybe it was all sleep deprived induced fantasy he entertained himself with? He tries to see it from Castiel’s perspective. He is a man who showed up in his motel in the middle of the night with a half dead brother offering no justifiable explanation, someone who then hanged around him till morning, flirted heavily with him and then followed him to his workplace. Okay, it sounds pretty bad put like that.

He tries to salvage his dignity, but he knows he looks as uneasy as he sounds when he says: “I’m not a stalker or anything,” he fakes a chuckle. “I didn’t come here just to hand you a coffee. That’d be crazy. Turns out I – I actually need some books.”

Castiel finally blinks and seems to deflate a little, looking relieved as he says “Oh,” and “of course. Right.” he even gives him a small smile. “You are in the right place,” he says awkwardly.

“Yeah” Dean takes a breath. Better cut this short. “So, can you point me to the local history section?”

Castiel doesn’t ask what he needs it for and gives him direction in a professional and practised voice. Dean’s got a knot in his stomach but still fakes a smile and says “Great. Thanks, Cas.”

He catches his eyes once again and he feels unable to move and unable to say anything and he suddenly feels like the heating is set on a little too high for him, still in his jacket.

Dean wonders how pathetic would be if he walked out of there saying “Let’s just pretend I never came in here.” Maybe it’s too late for that, but he needs to let him know that he’ll stay away, cause he caught the drift.

He says “Look - ” and at the same time he hears “Dean?”

Castiel precedes him in saying: “You first.”

“Uh, I was just gonna say that me and my brother are probably leaving town tonight, so – just – wanted to let you know in case you take that shift off of Steve.”

“And I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Steve and he needs the shift tonight, so – I wasn’t gonna make it either.”

“Yeah, okay,” it’s all Dean manages to say, already halfway turned to walk away.

“And thank you for the coffee. You didn’t have to,” adds Castiel quickly, as if only now remembering his manners.

“Yeah, no, sure Cas,” says Dean, and then ducks his head and makes his way to the local history section without looking back. He chooses the farthest table from the entrance and buries himself in old newspapers and doesn’t think at who’s only a couple of rooms away and the burning knot of disappointment in the middle of his chest.

*

A couple of hours later Dean has got absolutely nothing. Sam texted and he seems to have reached the same conclusion. A complete waste of time.

As he passes through the entrance to exit the library, his eyes dart to Castiel’s station but there’s someone else in his place. Dean doesn’t bother looking around to say goodbye, just takes the door.

The sun has already set and the temperatures have dropped significantly again. Dean is not in a great mood. He can’t wait to finish this job and get out of there and forget all about this town and this cold and those stupid vetalas.

More annoyed he is at the thing in his chest that since that afternoon has never dissolved. Whatever. He’ll never see him again and it’s not like it’s the first time that Dean’s been rejected.

Sam is waiting for him at the bottom of the stone steps. He is still wearing his FBI suit and his heavy coat and scarf but he’s got his hands buried in his pocket and his shoulder drawn together as if he’s still cold. As Dean approaches him he coughs a few time and Dean’s irritation for that case flares up again.

They talk again about how they don’t have jack squat.

Sam tells him in so many words that if the vetalas don’t show up soon they might as well move on. He says it tentatively and he seems taken aback when Dean agrees right away. “No reason to stay around,” he grumbles as they reach the Impala.

Sam opens his mouth to say something but he’s interrupted by a loud sound from an alley not far from where they are.

They stop, and stay alert, ears on. Another sound, then a muffled scream.

Sam draws out the gun from his inside pocket and moves quickly on the sidewalk towards the noise. Dean takes out the silver blades he got hidden in his right boot.

They move in synch and stealthily reach the alley. Just a look is enough to recognize the vetalas even with their back turned, the blonde woman that had thrown Sam into the lake and the young guy that had attacked Dean. They’ve got someone pinned against the wall and the man is whimpering and imploring them to let him go.

Sam shouts “Hey!” to catch their attention and as one of them turns around he shoots her in the chest. It does nothing to her except pissing her off, but Sam gets what he wanted, she hisses and lets go of the man to go after him.

That’s when Dean is able to see him clearly. That man is Castiel.

He sprints into action, white hot rage pumping in his veins and he wastes no time to grab the other vetala by the shoulders and rip him off of him.

Castiel’s eyes are wide and terrified. He looks in disbelief as the creature turns to growl and launch himself at Dean.

Dean shouts “Go! Run!” but he seems to be frozen in place, pressed against the wall.

Taking advantage of the distraction, the vetala hits him and he loses his balance, falls on the ground. He recovers quickly, rolls on his back and gets back up again just in time to tackle the vetala. They roll around punching and kicking each other until Dean finds himself pinned down, his knife trapped under his back.

He struggles to shake him off with one hand while with the other he tries to reach for the blade. The creature opens his mouth and he’s about to sink his fangs in his neck when Dean squeezing his eyes and pushing with everything he’s got, gets them to roll once again. The vetala is on his back, the blade now visible next to it. Dean quickly snatches it from the ground and buries it in his heart.

The vetala growls one last time as Dean twists the blade inside him and pushes himself up to watch the body whiter and crumble under his eyes.

He breathes heavily and looks back at Sam, who’s doing the same, catching his breath with a crumbled body at his feet. He meets his eyes and they nod briefly at each other, to let the other know that they’re alright.

Then Sam’s gaze flies somewhere behind his back and something twists in Dean’s stomach as he remembers that Castiel is still there, his body against the wall and his eyes frantically going from the crumpled bodies of the vetalas on the ground to Sam and Dean and back again.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean asks, shortening the distance.

“They had – fangs,” he says more to himself than to him, as if he’s still processing what he saw.

“You hear any ringing?” Dean asks, loud and worried, trying to catch his eyes.

Castiel lifts his gaze to look at him as he’s asking absurd questions.

“No.”

Only then Dean relaxes and looks back at Sam. “No venom.”

Castiel’s mouth is still hanging open: “Venom? Dean, what -?”

Hearing him speak his brother’s name, Sam’s gaze travels between the two of them and a look of understanding crosses his face. He takes a step towards him, and goes into his comfort-victim mode.

“It’s Cas, right?” he asks and Castiel’s wide eyes set on him as he nods. “Those were vetalas. They are creatures that poison humans and feed on them.”

Castiel scoffs. “Wha- how can there be such things?”

Sam shrugs. “There are all sorts of things.”

Castiel blinks as his world seems to be rearranging in front of his eyes.

“How did you - ” he looks between them. “How did you know they were here?”

“We didn’t. We were actually trying to track them; they must have followed us.” Sam says.

“You were tracking them?” he is in disbelief. “Why?”

“It’s our job,” chimes in Dean slipping the blade in his jacket. “We kill ‘em.”

Castiel looks at him and he’s silent for a long moment. Dean fights the urge of looking down, wondering what does he think of him now. Has this made his opinion of him even worse? In addition of being a stalker, does he now think he’s a killer and that he’s made a mistake trusting him with that key?

But Castiel just looks thoughful and in the end he just says, “You told me there were things I wouldn’t believe nor wanna know about. You were telling the truth.”

It’s not a question but Dean nods anyway and sighs in relief.

“You’re safe now.” he says and tries to lighten the mood. “So, can you stop going full Spanish Inquisition on us?”

Castiel seems to lose the last bit of tension he had left and exchanges it for a spark of annoyance and a challenging tone. “Well, I was about to die, the least you could give me is an explanation. What kind of job is that?”

Dean huffs a laugh. “That’s fair. Come on, we’ll give you a lift and fill you in. Where you headed?”

So they pile in the Impala while Sam gives their usual “hunters fighting monsters” speech. Castiel takes it fairly well. Or, at least, doesn’t start screaming or anything. He seems to have recovered from the attack fairly quickly too. Dean, on the other hand, feels weird with him in the backseat. Seeing him in the rear view mirror makes him nervous and smiley at the same time. Sam must sense that his unusual quietness means that something’s not right with him because he keeps sneaking glances his way.

But the whole thing at the library still burns and it’s made pretty clear what was what.

“It’s right up here.” Castiel says after not even five minutes on the road. “I told you there was no need to take the car.”

“Nonsense, you’ve just been attacked and it’s freezing.”

“Well, then. Thank you.” He says as the car rolls to a stop in front of a little house. It’s too dark to see it properly but under the snow, the front garden seems a little unkempt and there’s still a string of unlit Christmas lights with one end dangling from the gutter. Dean thinks it’s kinda cute.

Castiel pauses with one hand on the handle. “Are you leaving right away?”

Dean swallows. “I guess.”

“Oh,” Castiel hesitates, “so this is goodbye?”

Dean’s gaze darts towards Sam next to him. His brother shifts in his seat but doesn’t offer any lifelines.

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

Castiel meets Dean’s eyes in the rear view mirror and looks torn, like he’s about to say something. Then he seems to think better of it and just nods briefly. “Well, then, stay safe. And again: thank you. Both of you.” And with that, he gets out and walks away.

Dean doesn’t know what to do. He stares intensely at his hands on the steering wheel, with a sensation of wrong in his stomach. Every second is too long and not long enough to decide. Sam doesn’t ask what they’re still doing there, even if Dean killed the engine and it’s starting to get cold in the car.

But then quietly, with the corner of his mouth, he says: “He’s almost at the door.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, already reaching for the handle.

He walks quickly towards him, slipping a little on the snow covered grass.

“Cas,” Dean calls and he stops, looking curiously over his shoulder. Dean’s resolve falters, so he starts by saying, “Hey, mh, just wanna make sure you are okay.”

Castiel nods. “I’m fine, I guess I’ll need some time, but I’m fine.”

“Alright, well, I thought I’d give you my number, just in case uh -”

“Something else decides to attack me?”

Dean huffs a nervous laugh and looks at him. “Yeah. No. I mean, I don’t know, maybe you wanted to talk. Later.”

“I thought you were leaving.”

“Yeah, I was - I am. I am leaving. I mean unless…” Dean swallows, and just gives him a look that hopes it’s enough to finish his sentence for him.

But Castiel frowns and says “Dean?” and Dean doesn’t mean to be hopeful but he says it like he’s said it a million times before, like they’ve known each other for a lifetime and he only ever spoke this word to call him. Castiel squints and tilts his head to one side, “I don’t understand.”

Dean wants to laugh; they are so bad at this.

He steps closer. His fingertips are tingly with cold as he grabs the lapels of Castiel’s jacket and gently pulls him towards him. Castiel lets him. Lets Dean get so close that their lips touch. Dean kisses him slowly, sweetly. His lips are cold but soft and so close to him Dean can smell all the wonderful things he knew he smelled of. He pulls back to finally say: “I know I shouldn’t have shown up at the library today. I freaked you out, I didn’t mean to.”

Castiel seems windswept. His eyes are wide, his lips and cheeks bright pink. He cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, no, it was me. You took me by surprise and I wasn’t sure what to make of last night. This whole thing has been – weird.”

Dean smiles and leans closer once again to make their nose touch for a second.

“Am I making myself clear, now?” he whispers and Castiel smiles.

Dean feels ten pounds lighter all of the sudden. He lets him go, widens his arms, “Alright, then. Should we make it right? I can come pick you up in a couple of hours and we’ll go grab a bite or something.”

Castiel shifts on the spot, looks back at the dark windows of his house then turns again.

“Why don’t you just – come in now?” he asks hesitantly.

Dean’s mouth hangs open for a few seconds, then he beams up at him, nodding vigorously.

“Yeah. Or I could – do just that. Yeah. Sounds great. Just, uh, give me a sec.” he says and before Castiel can say anything else he goes back to the Impala to open the driver’s door.

“So, change of plans. You can go back to the motel, I’ll stay here.”

Sam’s eyebrows skyrocket on his forehead. “Are we staying another night?” he huffs a laugh.

Dean shrugs. “Sorry, Sammy. He is - ” he feels himself blushing, “I just gotta stay.”

Sam laughs again and slips in front of the steering wheel with an amused sigh. “Whatever. Don’t know what he did to you but as long as you’re sure he’s not a witch.”

“Nah, he’s an angel.” Dean says and that reminds him of something.

He ignores the way Sam rolls his eyes when he says Good night, Sammy and he goes back to Castiel who’s waiting for him.

“Hey” he says as they walk towards the door, “did you look up then, what I said about freckles?”

“Yes, and it was really cheesy. Like, very low level cheesy.”

“You liked it.” he teases, bumping his shoulder against Castiel’s. “I bet it made you blush and all.”

Castiel looks upwards in a matter than suggests annoyance, but he is pressing his lips together as if he’s keeping a smile at bay.

Dean’s heart makes a summersault. Man, whatever this is, must be powerful stuff.

+

 Dean comes back two weeks after they finally leave town and three weeks after that.

And then he just keeps coming back.

Suddenly it’s spring.

And Dean mows Castiel’ lawn and they go out with Meg and he gets so drunk that Castiel has to drive them home and Dean keeps nuzzling his neck and jaw, making it difficult for him to walk to the door and later in bed he whispers in his ear things he never thought he’d say to anyone like “I missed you” and “I think about you all the time” and the morning after he doesn’t even freak out cause Castiel said it back and it’s all fine.

So he keeps coming back.

And then comes the summer and Castiel takes a few days off from work and drags him up to a hiking trail but it takes them all day because Dean keeps stopping at all the perfect trees to snog against – and that’s every tree. And in the end they are sweaty and sticky and Dean’s body hurts all over and would take a nest of vamps any day over something like this, but the way Castiel smiles in the summer sunset makes it worth it. He snaps a selfie and sends it to Sam and Eileen and his brother writes back glad to see you happy. give cas my love.

And then Cas’ posh corporate dick sister Naomi shows up unexpectated one night and tries to convince Castiel to go back to New York with her. Dean hates her the moment she steps in with a face like she’s coming down from Heaven to set her rich foot on the smelly Earth, and she very clearly despises Dean’s everything, judging by the way her eyes slide over the room and stop on him when she tells Cas, “Look what you’ve become”. And Castiel throws her out shortly after that but Dean understands that even if he doesn’t regret it and Gabriel too calls to say, “So what? The witch is dead, good riddance!”, Castiel is still feeling like shit. So he curls up on the couch with him and when Castiel whispers “I’m sorry for that,” Dean holds him tighter and when he hears him sniffle quietly Dean says, “It’s okay. I’m here,” and strokes his back until he falls asleep.

And Dean keeps coming back.

Soon it’s fall and when Dean gets there he finds Castiel in the little garage attached to the house looking for the leaf blower among the clutter. It’s the first time he sees the space and he is assaulted by the thought that his Impala would easily fit in there, next to Castiel’s car. He doesn’t dare mention it but the thought nags at him all weekend.

And on his last morning, Castiel pretends he doesn’t hear the alarm going off, keeps his arm tight around him and looks sad when he hands him his cup of coffee for the road. Later he texts him it’s getting harder and Dean’s chest fills with rocks because he knows exactly what he means.

It’s getting harder.

One time when he’s walking to pick up Castiel from work to go out to dinner together, his phone pings and it’s a text from Sam saying Dean, you know I wouldn’t bother you if something something case something something we need you. can you?

He puts it back in his pocket right as Castiel comes out of the heavy doors and happily bounces down the stairs asking “How was your journey?”. He is about to lean in to peck his lips like he always does when he takes in his expression and pulls back, asks what’s wrong.

“I gotta go,” Dean says and he sounds miserable to his own ears.

Castiel face falls and Dean hates himself. But Castiel straightens up, presses his lips together and nods. He says “I understand.”

It’s getting harder.

One time, on the bathroom tiles of a smelly motel, Dean is grinding his teeth, trying not to scream as Sam sews a gash on his leg.

His brother looks up at him, his hands bloody, his forehead covered in sweat. They don’t have any booze left, and Sam was never the best of them in that kind of things.

“Don’t look this way, think of something else,” he pants.

And Dean closes his eyes and focuses very hard on the weight of Castiel’s hand in his, on the familiar smell of his couch and on his voice the last time he picked up the phone and said “Hello, Dean.” He focuses on the silhouette of his shoulder against the light of the sunrise when Dean wakes up before him. He focuses on the sound of Sam’s laugh that time he’d seen him wearing an apron at Castiel’s and then they all went down to that weird spring event and Sam had won a salt and pepper set with little bees on them and how it’s now sitting in Castiel’s cabinet. He tries to pretend to be in his kitchen, with Castiel in the other room calling his name and telling him to turn down the radio. He thinks about those things and soon a wound is closed but another is open.

It’s getting harder.

One time he calls Castiel after being tied to a chair and tortured for five hours. He is limping out of the warehouse, holding his phone against a bloodied ear and Castiel replies on the first ring. There’s music in the background and Castiel’s got a cheerful tone when he says, "Don’t tell me you’re here already. The potatoes still have fifteen minutes to go."

And Dean’s heart breaks as he tells him that he won’t be able to make it. On the other end, he hears just music for a while and when Castiel speaks again he just says “I understand.” But he sounds disappointed and Dean feels like shit.

It’s getting harder.

Still, he keeps coming back.

And it’s winter again and the front garden is covered in snow. Dean lets himself in with his spare key knowing that Castiel is still at work and toes off his boots at the entrance. He places the wrapped boxes he brought under the little Christmas tree that Castiel has left up for him even if the holidays have already come and gone. He turns on the radio and starts their dinner. A few hours later, as he hears the keys turning into the lock and he’s filled with anticipation, he realizes, not as a surprise but more as a confirmation, that he doesn’t want to leave anymore.

They eat on the couch in front of the tv, their plates balanced on their laps, one of Castiel socked feet bumping lightly against Dean’s calf.

The commercials start playing and Castiel is telling him a funny story about Gabriel when Dean puts his plate down.

“Cas,” he says, “I was thinking I could stay a little longer next time.”

Castiel gives his calf a little kick. “The whole week?” he asks, and sounds hopeful.

“Uh, was thinking, maybe more than that. I mean, if it’s all right with you, I -”

Castiel doesn’t let him finish. He puts his own plate down and surges forward to kiss him.

Dean pulls back because he starts laughing. “I still haven’t- ”

“You mean it?” Castiel cuts him off. He is serious now, stares at him, studies his face.

Dean throat is tight. He only nods.

Castiel kisses him again then smiles. “Dean, this is your home since the first time you came through that door. Of course it’s all right with me.”

Dean kisses him again and this time doesn’t let go.

 *

So, for the last time he leaves and for the last time he comes back.

He walks up to the door, carrying way too many bags with him.

He doesn’t take out his key, he rings the bell.

Castiel answers the door with a smile.

 ________

(* what they say about freckles: every freckle is a kiss from an angel.)

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 10: Hattie

The night is but young.

❃❃❃

“Are you done yet? Are you done yet?” Hattie asked, squirming as she repeated her question for what seemed like the thousandth time.

“For the thousandth time, no, I’m not done yet. Stupid three thousand word count.” Cait groaned, slouched over their desk. “I swear, the day I graduate, I’m gonna kick Professor Rook square in the junk… boring old bastard… ”

“Sorry, time’s getting away from me.” Hattie apologized. “You’re still using that trick I told you about?”

Cait shrugged. “Even if I don’t count it as I go, it still feels like I’m never gonna finish it.”

The two had been spending the entire evening in their dorm room; Cait had been working on their assignment since the moment the Armilde sisters had left, and Hattie had been trying to keep herself busy by dusting, staring outside, dusting again, and even going as far as to read a lesson they hadn’t yet covered in class.

Tossing the Modern Remnant History textbook to her side, Hattie fell back on her bed spread-eagled, disappointed at the evening so far. She regretted how she had never really fostered a social life outside of Haven Academy— or much less her team, for that matter.

She had grown up as a ward of the underground Sisterhood, mostly keeping to herself and her small collection of fairytale books back then. Having dwelled for so long down in the habitable mine tunnels that the Sisterhood called home, she had recently found herself wanting to explore the world outside more often, if only to make up for lost time.

Those extracurricular lessons with Professor Gormlaith don’t count, she mentally noted.

Hattie didn’t have many friends, either— ironically, the happy-go-lucky girl could be a lot more introverted than extroverted at times. She knew a few students in their year by name, but not enough to warrant anything closer than a “hello” in the hallways. Plus, she didn’t find it to be much fun going out without her friends, which essentially consisted of LLAC and pretty much nobody else.

Well, there is CMYK, she thought to herself, remembering the team of now-second-years that they had tutored in the previous semester. I bet ol’ Mallow or Kara would have been free at this hour… but they’re all over in Vale helping with the set-up for the Vytal Festival, lucky dogs.

And since Lillian and Amaryllis were out doing their own things, she was left cooped up with Cait, who had been taking their time in writing an essay she had already finished.

“…Don’t you have anywhere else to go, Hattie?” Cait asked, glancing over their shoulder.

Hattie turned, wilting slightly as she did. “Should I leave you alone?”

“Nah, it’s not that.” Cait replied. “I just don’t want you to feel stuck here with me, y’know? You could go if you wanted to.”

Hattie shrugged. “Yeah, but I don’t really wanna. I’d prefer to wait for you rather than leave by myself.”

“Fair. Are we going somewhere after I’m done, anyways?” Cait said, turning back to their writing.

“I don’t know. I mean, Ammy said we can come down to her boyfriend’s family’s charity event, but it sounds kinda formal.” Hattie said, then shook her head. “I’m not in the mood for formal tonight.”

“So you don’t have a plan for this evening?” Cait inquired.

“I was kinda hoping you had that part sorted out,” she said with a lopsided smile. Having hung out with them the most, Hattie had always left the ideas up to Cait— they did always know where to go for a fun time. Also, she tended to worry that she’d make a big plan and it would turn out to be a flop.

Lost for any follow-up, she wondered aloud, “What do you think Detective Yuen and the old guys are up to now?”

“Probably living their nice and worry-free adult life.” Cait said sarcastically.

“Do you think we should give them a call? You know, check up on them?”

“Nah. I’m sure they’re doing fine on their own for one night.”

Hattie grabbed her Scroll from the far edge of her bed and waved at Cait, sticking out her tongue. “I’m gonna do it anyways! What if they’ve finally found the bad guys or something?”

Cait rolled their eyes. “Whatever you say…”

***

Sardion paced back and forth in Yuen’s office, his gaze fixed on the vinyl floor. The day had been yet another bust— Rudyard had hung back at Yaara’s house, while Sardion and Yuen, with little else to do, had returned to the precinct.

“I’m just saying, don’t you think we should give LLAC a call?” Yuen suggested. “They’re part of this investigation too, and we could really use some help right now. Plus, they might see something we’ve overlooked.”

“They’re having a night off, Yuen. I’m sure they have better things to do.” Sardion replied. “You don’t want to tire the young’uns out before they even graduate, right?”

“Maybe.” Yuen sighed. “Hear anything from Rudyard?” 

“Not yet, but he said he’d call if he found anything to go on.”

***

Rudyard stared up to the inky heavens, taking in the starry night sky from Yaara’s old lawn chair, a half-empty bottle of beer loosely grasped in his fingertips.

In the backyard of her humble home, the Huntress had cultivated a small flower garden. In the back of his mind, Rudyard reflected on the visits he had paid her, how she had meticulously tended to them every day; thoroughly watering them, rooting out any weeds, gently humming while she kept her garden impeccable.

Now, seeing as their owner had been dead for a week, the garden had slowly begun to die as well. The bright petals and leaves of the flowers had begun to fade and wilt from a lack of water, and weeds had taken over a small patch of dandelions.

Rudyard rose to pick up a rusty old watering can on the back veranda, then filled it up with a nearby hose. As he let the water trickle down onto the garden’s parched soil, he let out a long sigh— after all she had done for him, it was the least he could do. Eventually emptying the can, he opted to go back inside, as the night air started to grow colder.

Searching for a spot where the police hadn’t tagged or taped anything of interest, he made himself comfortable in a reclining chair in her personal study. Looking around, a single book lying on her desk caught his eye, the tip of a torn sheaf of paper stuck in the pages halfway through. The title on the cover read Eternal Blue Sky, luminescent gold font on a pastel blue background.

“Of course.” Rudyard chuckled to himself. “You would have hated this, Yaara, leaving a book unfinished.” Absentmindedly, he picked up the book and opened it up to the bookmarked page.

He paused.

Written on the scrap of paper in what was unmistakably Yaara’s handwriting was a short message; 1100 apr 23 for further details - stored on hosaki comm log 1138.

“April…?” Rudyard muttered, squinting at the writing. He remembered that April 21st had been the starting date of the last mission on her and Berilo’s record, and it had been marked as remaining within city limits.

He had never heard of a place called “Hosaki” anywhere in Mistral City.

Frowning, he tucked the sheaf of paper into his pocket and rose from the chair, reaching into his pocket. “Wonder what Yuen’ll make of this.”

He paused, fingers fumbling inside an empty pocket.

“…Where’d I put my Scroll?”

***

“Do you know of any other places they might have escaped to?” Sardion asked as he took a closer look at the map of Mistral spread over Yuen’s desk, doing his best to focus despite his inner restlessness slowly clouding his mind.

“Besides the forest, nothing, and if that’s the case then they’re likely long gone by now.” Yuen said, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe the Manju-Shage District, but I doubt it. The whole thing’s cordoned off by a tripwired security fence. There’s no way someone could’ve broken in without us knowing about it.” She continued, tapping her fingers against the armrests in mild frustration.

“Well, maybe they could’ve snuck in, if they had the right Semblance for the job. At this point, I’m ready to try anything if it means we might find a lead,” Sardion paused, sharply exhaling, “Any step we take, no matter how small, is at least a bit closer to the whoever’s behind this.”

“True.” Yuen said, glancing up at him. “After all, there’ve been times that thugs occasionally get the great idea to break in and squat there, to lay low or whatever… you want to check it out, just in case?”

“Might as well. I’ve already got my weapon on me.” Sardion shrugged. “I’ll call up Rudyard first, see if he’s up for it.” He pulled out his Scroll and sent a call to Rudyard’s contact.

Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz. A small buzzing hum came from beneath a stack of papers on the right of Yuen’s desk. The Huntsman and the detective exchanged confused looks, before realizing what was making the noise.

“Oh, for the love of…” Sardion muttered, sticking his hand underneath the stack and pulling out a Scroll— Rudyard’s own. “Perfect time to forget this, you freakin’ cueball…” He stuck his Scroll back in his jacket and tossed Rudyard’s onto Yuen’s desk.

“Okay, well, that’s a bust… like I said before, we could call up LLAC.” Yuen suggested.

Sardion was inclined to disagree with her, given that it had been the students’ night off— calling them in for duty at such an hour wouldn’t be the most gracious move. However, he figured that they’d best bring some backup, if only to cover more ground if nothing else.

“Alright, go for it.” he said.

Yuen took out her Scroll and pulled up Lillian’s contact. “Here goes. Hope for the best.”

***

“Why do I always have to be the one to make the food?” Rosario asked, swinging her now-empty basket from one hand as she walked alongside Lillian down the cliffside path.

“You’re a great cook, and I can’t even season my food correctly.” Lillian replied. “Do you remember the last time when I tried to make instant ramen unsupervised?”

“Point.” Rosario said. “You did literally set a pot of water on fire. I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty certain that violates every law of thermodynamics that there is.”

Lillian nodded. “See?”

“Riiiight.” Rosario drawled. “Imagine what adult life would be like. Every night, it’ll just be me greeting you, ‘Welcome home, mi amor! What do you want first? Dinner? A bath? Me?’ And then you’ll go, ‘I’ll have you for dinner in the bath!’”

“I know you’re trying to make fun of me, but you’re drooling, Rosario.” Lillian said, giving her girlfriend a flat stare.

Rosario flushed red, wiping the corner of her mouth. “I am not.”

Lillian snorted.

***

“Damnit, her Scroll’s turned off.” Yuen groaned. “Her sister’s offline as well.”

“Thought so. They have private lives too, you know.” Sardion shrugged, slinging his coat over his shoulders. “C’mon, might as well see if any airships are available and just get this over with.”

Yuen rose from her chair. “Fine. I’ll leave them a message if we do find anything.” Just as she was about to follow Sardion out, her Scroll suddenly vibrated in her coat.

The profile picture that displayed the caller wasn’t Lillian— rather, it was the Lazuli kid calling her.

It’s something, I guess. Yuen thought to herself, swiping to accept the call.

“…Hey, Detective Yuen.” Hattie chirped up on the other end.” How’s it going? It’s Hattie from, uh, Team LLAC. Uhm, we just wanted to check in, and—” She continued, stumbling slightly over her words.

“As a matter of fact, I’m glad you called.” Yuen replied. “Listen, Sardion and I are going to investigate a possible lead down in the old Manju-Shage District, and your help would be very much appreciated.” She hesitated before continuing. “That is, if you’re not already preoccupied.”

***

On the other end of the line, Hattie’s face lit up as she heard Yuen’s invitation. For the moment, she managed to suppress the urge to whoop and cheer out of deference to the still-working Cait. “Nononono, no problem. We’ll be there right away, Detective,” she said, struggling to contain her excitement as she ended the call.

It took her a few seconds before she was able to produce words, since all that was coming out of her mouth were muffled joyful squeaks. “…Cait?”

“Gimme a sec.” Cait replied, holding up a finger.

Hattie paused, her smile falling slightly.

“Cait.” she repeated, her tone becoming  normal.

“Wait, I’m almost done.” Cait said, focused on their computer’s monitor.

“Cait!” Hattie repeated for a third time, her voice rising slightly as she grew irked by their dismissal.

“I said wait, Hattie.” Cait said, still not turning around. “…’Make sure to provide footnotes along with citations’? Aw, what the hell’s the point of that?” they muttered to themself as they reviewed their essay.

Hattie scowled darkly, thoroughly annoyed at the brush-off. After a moment, she tiptoed up next to her teammate’s shoulder and leaned in towards their ear as close as possible.

“CAAAAAAAAAAAIT!” she screamed.

“AUUUUUUUGH!” Cait screeched, jumping up from their seat in shock as they spun around to face her. Their brow contorted, startled and frustrated at the girl’s outburst.

“WHAT?!” they snapped.

Hattie’s expression morphed into a tooth-bared cheshire grin, her attempt at emulating Cait’s own habit.

“I know what we’re gonna do tonight~♪.”

[samwritesforyou]

ARMY ZIP drabbles

JOURNEY

you and joon have been pretty close friends since you first came to this new highschool. your family has been moving around a lot, so you never stayed long in any schools, until this one.

your mom eventually got to know namjoon’s mother and they became friends as well.

there were always some activities for your class, and one day it was a trip for the whole day, where teachers took all of you to the place that was very similar to some kind of jungle.

it was no surprise to find this type of  surroundings in australia, so nobody was really super stoked by it.

but the exciting part was, that your main partner for the day was joon, and together you’d get lost, just enjoying each other’s company.

to avoid punishment, joon took the situation under his control and called the teacher in charge, bluntly lying about the fact that you two have gone home already. you two didn’t mind spending more time together, especially in this beautiful scenery.

after all you’d find your way out of there and joon would walk you home from the bus station, because it already got dark, and he would give you his grey jacket, because you said under your breath a silent, “how much colder can it be..”

your mom was waiting for you on the porch already - pretty mad - and joon took all the blame on himself, apologising and saying that you two got lost because of him.. she actually forgave the both of you and even invited joon to stay for a cup of tea.

the whole time beside the dinner table you couldn’t take your eyes off him, and he did the same, captivating your eyes with his..

in the hall you were just simply talking about how much fun the whole day was and you both ended up in a warm hug towards the end of your conversation.

since you’re both still underage, your mom makes a firm statement that she will drive namjoon to his own home and as you waved him goodbye you were smiling, because.. damn, he forgot to take his jacket back from you. and you couldn’t help yourself but realise that it smelled just exactly like him.. like home.

PERFECT

yoongi was this perfect friend. you didn’t know him for too long, but it didn’t matter. your personalities clicked and you started to spend a lot of time together.

he was the best baseball player in the whole school and you were fortunate enough to always be by his side, whenever some victory happened.

but what you missed on - in the early stages of your friendship - were the losses, the bad things that happened.

one day you were just passing by the slightly opened door of the changing rooms, when you heard a slight whimper.

you immediately stopped and carefully peeked through the crack, trying to inspect who’s inside.

you saw light hair and a small posture, crouched on the floor near the lockers, shuddering their shoulders, with arms wrapped around their knees, as they desperately tried to hide the sounds that sometimes escaped their lips.

it didn’t take you long to realise who it was..

“yoongi?..” you called, softly, opening the door further and making your way inside.

“i fucked it up.. i fucked it all up,” was all he said, burying his head even tighter to his knees.

so he wasn’t perfect, after all, huh? everyone kept painting yoongi as this cold and professional kid, but they just never got to see the more emotional and vulnerable side of him.

perhaps he didn’t let them see it.

didn’t want them to see it.

but he let you. and when you dropped down on the floor next to him, consoling him and patting his hair, he let you.

when you leaned towards him, he started to cry even harder, letting his emotions out, and finally felt how it was to be truly supported by someone.

that’s what true friends do, right? being here for each other in good and bad times.

ZOMBIE

it was the end of it all. the world has gone insane since last week, when a massive zombie virus broke out... somehow.. to the whole world.

Nobody knows exactly what or how it happened, but even though everyone was fairly “educated” on the apocalypse matter from all the movies and books, loads of people were still getting turned on a daily basis.

in other words, it was terrifying, and not as adventurous as in the fiction.

you were fortunate enough to find yourself, after days on the road, in the abandoned house, still filled with some leftover foods around.

you just did your evening routine and came back to your “room”, where you stood by a small window, looking out and trying to concentrate your attention on the lightest of sounds.

and you finally heard it. a zombie was approaching from the hallway, their grunting clear as day for your careful hearing.

you had no weapon, no help around..

you didn’t know exactly what was your plan, but.. something will have to do.

you grabbed the nearest brick into your palm and squeezed hard, getting nervous.

the undead person already came into the view, feeling your presence and moving in your direction.

when there were only a few meters between the two of you, the gunshot blazed through the air.

the body fell to the floor and you saw a man standing in the hallway, rifle in his strong hands.

“hey.. you okay?” a man said, fixing his freshly dyed purple hair.

“yeah..”

“good. i think you could use a friend in this apocalypse,” a man smirked and gave you a bag with some food, by this making a peace pact between you.

STREET

hoseok was an international student from korea, who was studying art and dancing majors.

you were friends for some time already, but both of you never had time to actually hang out outside of the school grounds.

you were into filmmaking and your study hours were crazy, to say the least.

but finally, summer holidays were approaching. you didn’t make any plans, because most of your friends went travelling, and your buddies from the dorms were supposed to leave to go back to their lovely families.. you just didn’t have that.

one of the final days of the semester before the big break, you were just wandering around the campus, finally having nothing to do, after months of hard work..

and suddenly your phone rang. it startled you, on the screen showing “hoseok” with his number underneath it.

you picked it up, of course.

“hey, are you in town?” you heard an exciting tone on the other end.

“yes, actually..”

“wanna hang out? come to that park near the school, in 20 minutes?”

and it was settled. when you dragged your ass over there, you came perfectly on time and hoseok was already waiting for you, sitting on top of the many big cans that were laying around here.

he simply handed you the graffiti colour. you couldn’t help yourself but to make a surprised expression, but took the paint anyways.

“let’s create something!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and started to dance around, filling the walls with some slogans and pictures of all sorts.

he noticed you hesitating at first, and gently put his elegant hand on your back.

“heyy,  don’t be afraid, it’s my first time with this kind of medium too! i just figured we could do something for the first time together and not worry about the result that much, most important thing is just having fun, isnt it?” he smiled at you warmly, and you just couldn’t help it and put your arm towards the wall, spraying his name on it.

YOUNG

it was one of those days, when everything seems quiet, slow and kind of lazy.. it was just another weekend in your small city, far far away from all the excitement of the bigger metropolis.

you were fortunate enough to meet one of the closest people in your life here, though.

you came over to jimin’s place, as you have previously agreed on.

he made you some tea. kettle boiled in the silence of his apartment and you smiled at each other, when he picked your favourite kind.

you knew each other well. and jimin knew even better about your current struggles, as of the problem that you’re trying to become a tattoo artist, but it wasn’t quite working out yet.

he was always trying to help and make things better.

so when you ended up in his room, he took out a marker from his pencil-case and showed it to you, excitedly.

“what should i do with it?” you chuckled, but sadness still prevailed on your face.

“draw on me,” he simply said and put the tool firmly into your hand, “imagine i’m the canvas and you’re about to ink my skin.”

“okay..” it seemed a little weird and embarrassing at first, but after a while you both got fully into it and your passion literally blossomed in front of his eyes and reflected there as beautiful sparkles.

“youth?..” he asked, looking at his arm, with a genuine warm smile.

“youth. let’s never forget about this. when we’re still young, you know?” you smiled and then jimin started laughing with his angelic voice.

“i like it! write more, please..”

you ended up writing things like “i  me”, “happy song :)” and a big “nevermind” in some really rough, but pretty font on his ribs.

“i really like this one..” jimin said, truly amazed.

and a few years later, after you’ve finally made it out of the small town and owned your own tattoo studio, jimin came with a request of nevermind on his ribs.

MAFIA

it was really risky to try and accomplish this mission and you knew it.

there were literally myths and stories going around this mafia, especially their leader.

nobody never described how he looked, just that he was ruthless and never spared their enemies.

all the other heads of gangs had exceptions for some people, but not him.

and when you were caught, illegally transporting some dangerous.. “items” by one of his people, you were immediately captured. this wasn’t supposed to happen and now you knew your fate.

you were held hostage for some days, but now you’re finally on the way to meet the master head behind all of this.

you were pushed into this luxurious room, doors closing loudly behind you. but it was empty..

after the uncomfortable silence the backdoor of this strange place opened and you saw him come in.

his expression was grim and intimidating, but changed in a heartbeat when your eyes met.

“taehyung?..” your voice cracked in between the pronunciation of his name and you were just.. astounded.

you were close friends until last two years, because you suddenly lost contact with each other.

“are you okay?” he immediately rushed to you, uncuffed your hands and wrapped you in a warm hug, dropping his stern facade this instant. in that second all your memories from when you were younger and just having fun together popped up in your head and you couldn’t help but only hug him tighter.

when you pulled away after a while, you cupped his cheeks with your hands and stared into his eyes, “how the fuck did you get into all of this mess?”

you just wanted him to stay this innocent and pure boy you always knew..

“i should ask you the same thing then,” he frowned his brows and pouted.

“i guess we’ll have to figure it out somehow..” you turned your head towards the doors, that slowly clicked as someone was clearly ears dropping you.

“now it’s only you and me, partner.”

MESSENGER

you were just an ice cream truck worker, giving out yet another frozen treat to a happy family in front of your face. ugh. you didn’t like your job one bit. but what can you do in summer, when you don’t have enough money from your usual income like drawing or writing articles, right? next second you look up from your phone and another customer is standing there. “can i get some ice, please? just ice,” he says firmly and tries to keep up a smile, but it breaks a few times, because the man looks genuinely injured on the side of his head. “are you sure? you should call a doctor for that-“ you can’t even finish your sentence when he just pulls his hand into the ice-cubes container himself and pushes it against his temple, part of the ice melting and some of it falling down. suddenly he’s checking his phone and then frantically looks around, not loosing his cool image. then his eyes dart back at you and he says, “do you think i can hide behind the truck? you’d still stand there so its not suspicious that the truck is here by itself?” he really seemed to be in a hurry, so you just nodded your head yes and he was already crouching next to you, in a still position. soon a group of bulky men appeared, coming to you and asking if you havent seen a younger guy with longer brown hair, tattoos and piercings. you have, and he has been hiding just next to your legs. “no, i’m sorry,” you said with an innocent smile and eventually they went away. when the air was clear, the man finally stepped away and most adorable smile appeared on his face. he was holding a small transparent package, full of white crystals. from all the happiness he kissed the package and then patted you a little awkwardly on the shoulder. “thank you so much for covering me. i’m jeongguk, by the way,” he stretched his tattooed arm towards you and you shook hands. “can i get an ice cream now?” he said, a little bit embarrassed, as he stood in front of the truck now, like a normal customer.