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snorlaxlovesme · 9 months

Text

let me do this for you

"Lu Guang’s limbs feel heavy as he climbs the stairs, every changed minute weighing down his body as he goes to check on Cheng Xiaoshi. He wishes he could do today over again. He doesn’t know if he’d have the strength to do today over again." Lu Guang experiences Cheng Xiaoshi being sick for the first time. Twice.

My long-awaited Link Click fic is finally here!! I have been so excited to post this for MONTHS because it's genuinely one of my favorite things I've written. I love Link Click for letting me write just about anything with a layer of agony over it because Lu Guang is in a permanent state of anxious paranoia about messing up the timeline. It means even the funny bits include angst :)

So this baby's got it all! Sickfic shenanigans, big sister Qiao Ling, whiny Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang feeling like he's mourning every time he looks at Cheng Xiaoshi's face, soup..... What more could you ask for?

(Spoilers for season 2. Content warning for vomiting. 12k words. Ignore the fact that I completely messed up the layout of the studio and then didn't want to change it. The living room and their made-up kitchen are on their own separate floor, because I said so.) (ao3 link)

---

Dingdingding. Dingdingding. Dingdingding.

Lu Guang cracks his eyes open and feels around next to his pillow for his phone, thumbing at the screen to turn off his morning alarm. Early morning sunlight is already filtering in through the window, so Lu Guang relents that it’s time to start the day. He pulls himself down the ladder, ignoring the groans from Cheng Xiaoshi coming from the bottom bunk as his own phone begins to buzz. Lu Guang silently descends the stairs, allowing Cheng Xiaoshi his customary extra few minutes of sleep while Lu Guang prepares tea and a simple breakfast for the two of them.

After living together for almost a year, Lu Guang enjoys the comfort he finds in this familiar morning routine. He sets the breakfast on the table and sets to eating his own, waiting for his roommate.

But Cheng Xiaoshi never comes down. Lu Guang waits patiently, knowing that Cheng Xiaoshi is a sloth and some days he takes longer to rouse himself than others. But after watching the time tick by on his watch for 21 minutes, he can no longer idly wait. Lu Guang climbs the stairs, ready to bang his fist on the doorframe to wake his roommate up, when Cheng Xiaoshi flies past him, almost knocking Lu Guang over, and runs straight for the bathroom.

Lu Guang waits outside the bathroom door impatiently. “Hurry up or we’re going to be late—”

And that’s when Cheng Xiaoshi starts retching.

The morning does not get more pleasant after that. As it turns out, the only thing more annoying that an overly chipper, healthy Cheng Xiaoshi is a sick one.

---

“Was it something you ate?” Lu Guang asks Cheng Xiaoshi reproachfully. The first round of puking had only lasted a few minutes, but before Lu Guang even had a chance to speak to Cheng Xiaoshi properly, he was back in the bathroom, coughing and moaning as he continued expelling everything he had in his stomach.

Cheng Xiaoshi is on the couch in the living room now, looking a little green and definitely not in the mood for answering questions. The quilt from his bed is wrapped around his body, coming up over head to look like a hood.

“How should I know? It’s not like the answer was written at the bottom of the toilet bowl.”

Lu Guang sighs. “We ate the same meals yesterday. I was just wondering if your food felt off in any way.”

“If it felt off, I wouldn’t have eaten it!”

This is debatable. Lu Guang has seen Cheng Xiaoshi eat plenty of things in the name of “not letting it go to waste” that seemed questionable. While this situation is an appropriate time to mention that fact, Lu Guang refrains.

“Okay, well maybe you have a virus, then.”

Cheng Xiaoshi holds a hand to his stomach pathetically. “Can you cure me, Lu Guang?”

“No, but I can go downstairs to open the studio alone while you stay up here and keep your puke away from the customers.”

This is apparently the wrong response, because Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes widen like he was just told that Lu Guang is moving out of the country today.

“You’re leaving me?” he cries. “In my hour of need, you’re going to abandon me?”

Lu Guang rolls his eyes. “I’m going to be directly underneath you, idiot. Just call me if you need something. Someone has to pay rent this month.”

“Do you think Qiao Ling would come take care of me?”

“Qiao Ling has her own priorities besides dealing with your whining. Go lay back down; I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

Lu Guang leaves silently. He wasn’t wrong; they really did need to open the studio today. There were customers scheduled to pick up their prints this morning. He makes sure to take his phone off silent mode as he works, in case Cheng Xiaoshi calls for something, but he never does. Lu Guang finds himself staring nervously at his phone throughout the morning. Is Cheng Xiaoshi still throwing up? Has he made it to the toilet every time, or is he defacing every surface of their apartment in revenge? Does he need something? Why hasn’t he called?

By lunch time, Lu Guang can’t stand it. He locks up the studio and goes upstairs to check on his roommate. His worries melt away when he sees Cheng Xiaoshi in the exact same position he was left in, strewn across the couch with a plastic-lined wastepaper basket on the floor beside him, groaning pathetically.

“Lu Guaaaaaang….” Cheng Xiaoshi moans, long and desperate. “Everything huuuurts.”

Lu Guang tries a gentle approach. “Could you be more specific? Is it your stomach? Does your body ache? Are you feverish?”

Cheng Xiaoshi pulls the quilt higher, tucking it under his chin. “I’m not gonna make it. Call Qiao Ling. Tell her to come quickly so I can update my will.”

Lu Guang sighs. “You’re not dying, idiot. You probably have a virus. Or it was something you ate. Now could you tell me the rest of your symptoms?”

Cheng Xiaoshi ignores his questions yet again, cracking his eyes open slowly, like it’s taking him a great amount of effort to do so. “Have you called Qiao Ling? Does she know I’m ill?”

“I could help you get better if you’d just tell me what’s wrong,” Lu Guang says crossly. The quilt is pulled up so high he can barely see Cheng Xiaoshi under the blanket. Does he have a fever? Does he need medication? He debates leaning forward to feel his forehead but doesn’t know a way to pull it off without it seeming strange. He refrains. “I know your stomach is upset, but what else—”

Cheng Xiaoshi rolls over flippantly. “Tell me when Qiao Ling gets here. I’ll only speak to her. I’m taking you out of my will.”

Lu Guang looks to the ceiling, balling his hands into fists and breathing slowly. After a few slow exhales he calmly tells Cheng Xiaoshi that he should try eating something small to settle his stomach. He goes to their pantry and prepares a small dish full of plain wonton strips and a glass of cool water.

“I have to go back to work. Please try to eat something,” Lu Guang says evenly. He ignores the cries of “Qiao Lingggggggg!” echoing through the apartment as he leaves.

Lu Guang returns to the front counter, pulling out several canisters of film that still needed to be developed for customers later this week. Thankfully, they don’t have any new clients from Qiao Ling. Lu Guang isn’t entirely sure how their powers would work if Cheng Xiaoshi was sick during a dive. His physiology tends to get transferred to the person in the past he possesses. Would their client start puking uncontrollably mid-dive? Lu Guang dreads the thought.

No, this is better. Let Cheng Xiaoshi sleep if off while Lu Guang tends to the studio. Cheng Xiaoshi will have to dip into his meager savings to pay for his half of the rest this month if he doesn’t come back to work in the next few days, but that can’t be helped. If he’s lucky, Qiao Ling will be merciful on him.

Lu Guang stares at the canisters on the counter before him. The studio is blessedly quiet without Cheng Xiaoshi’s usual chittering and loud pop music playing through the speakers of his phone. Lu Guang should be reveling in the silence, but he does feel marginally bad for leaving Cheng Xiaoshi by himself upstairs, no matter how irritating his dramatics are.

Lu Guang picks up his cell phone and dials Qiao Ling’s number.

---

Qiao Ling arrives around closing time, a paper bag full of groceries on her hip as she opens the front door to the Time Photo Studio, the pre-recorded greeting ringing through the silence.

“Is he in bed?” Qiao Ling asks, before remembering her manners and greeting Lu Guang properly.

Lu Guang waves away formalities. “He’s on the couch. He keeps calling for you,” he tells her, his normal deadpan tone giving way to the smallest hint of annoyance.

Qiao Ling rolls her eyes, but fondly, and hurries up the stairs. Lu Guang flips the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ and follows her up to the apartment.

“Where’s my patient?” Qiao Ling calls in a sing-song tone. A long, monotonous “uuuuuuuuuuhn” echoes back to her, indicating that Cheng Xiaoshi is still alive, and probably in the same condition Lu Guang left him in.

His assumptions are proven correct when Lu Guang follows Qiao Ling to the living room. Though now Cheng Xiaoshi has a hand over his forehead like a swooning maiden as well. Lu Guang crosses his arms at Cheng Xiaoshi’s childishness. He expects Qiao Ling to share in his annoyance, but she smiles good naturedly as she sits down on the edge of the couch to pull his hand from his face and replace it with her own, pushing his bangs back to feel his temperature.

Lu Guang ignores the odd feeling in his gut watching the tender gesture. Their relationship has always been a curious thing to him. As an only child, sibling dynamics have always been interesting to observe. Though they may not be related by blood, Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi have been together for half of their lives, and little moments like this show their closeness. While Lu Guang spent most of the day reluctant to get within a few feet of Cheng Xiaoshi, Qiao Ling presses her hand gently to his forehead with no hesitation, frowning at whatever she feels. Lu Guang wonders if he should have pushed past his own reservations and checked his temperature himself earlier. He silently curses them for not owning a thermometer.

“Sorry I’m late,” Qiao Ling tells Cheng Xiaoshi. “I was with Xu ShanShan and Dong Yi at the new noodle shop downtown and the trains were far behind schedule. I would have taken a cab back if I knew it was urgent.”

“I almost perished while you were gone. And Lu Guang just left me here!” Cheng Xiaoshi accuses sourly, making a face at Lu Guang that he pointedly ignores.

She pats his cheek twice. “Don’t be like that. Lu Guang was running the studio. Now,” she claps her hands together, “would you like some soup?”

Whatever dumb act Cheng Xiaoshi has been putting on for the whole conversation falls away from his face, his tired eyes lighting up again with genuine happiness. “Really?”

Qiao Ling smiles once more, then hefts her bag from the market back onto her hip and carries it to the kitchen.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and sleep in an actual bed for a while?” she calls over the rustling of the bag as she pulls ingredients out and sets them on their small counter. “Lu Guang can help you!”

Lu Guang isn’t sure what face he is making, but if he had to guess, it probably looks similar to the expression he made last week when he stepped in dog poop on the sidewalk. Cheng Xiaoshi stares back at him, eyes narrowed.

“I can take myself, actually.”

He pulls himself to his feet, albeit much slower than he would on a typical day. Cheng Xiaoshi is normally so bouncy and energetic that Lu Guang often wonders if he’s possessed by a child. Lu Guang’s own muted personality is only made more apparent the longer he spends time by Cheng Xiaoshi’s side.

Cheng Xiaoshi drapes the quilt over his shoulders and shuffles out of the room past Lu Guang. After he leaves, Lu Guang glances at the lined trash can they left by the couch; mercifully, it’s still empty.

Qiao Ling is already in the kitchen, pulling out a few of the ingredients from her bag and setting them on their cutting board beside their hot plate. Calling the meager set-up a “kitchen” is more generous than it deserves. With a sink and a few feet of counter space, the area barely counts as a kitchenette, but Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang make do. It’s not like either of them do much cooking anyway. Their singular hot plate is more than enough to boil water for cup noodles.

He approaches the kitchen and sits on a wooden chair near the counter, watching Qiao Ling as she chops vegetables.

“You’re being awfully nice to him.”

“And you’re being awfully cold,” she counters, thought she doesn’t sound upset by it. “What’s gotten you in such a mood? Did he do something?”

Lu Guang rests his chin on his fist. “No, he’s just been trying my patience all day.”

“That’s nothing new,” she says with a laugh. “He’s always like that when he’s sick. He used to drive my parents crazy when we were kids. Always wallowing and complaining whenever he got even the slightest cold.”

Lu Guang internally wilts. So he’s going to be dealing with dramatics like this every time Cheng Xiaoshi gets sick? How many times will he be written out of his will?

“And you humor him?” Lu Guang asks.

“He’s sick,” Qiao Ling says with a shrug. “It’s the one time I’ll let it slide.”

They fall into an easy silence for a few minutes, Qiao Ling getting a pot of broth simmering on the hot plate as she chops the vegetables, the quiet shuck shuck shuck of the knife against the wooden cutting board being the only sound in the room as Lu Guang reflects on his own attitude.

“What kind of soup are you making him?” Lu Guang asks after a while, peering at the ingredients spread across the counter.

“I’m honestly not sure,” Qiao Ling says dubiously. “When we were little, Cheng Xiaoshi used to always claim that his mom had a soup recipe that would cure you of just about anything. During all his complaining he would beg for his mother’s soup. Taking pity on him, I made him some when we were maybe eleven. He ate it, but according to him it tasted all wrong. It’s been my mission since then to try and replicate the recipe correctly.”

“Are you close?”

Qiao Ling shrugs and shakes her head. “Who knows?”

She points to a piece of paper she set on the counter earlier. A basic herbal soup recipe was written at the top, and the bottom had subsequent ingredients written down, scratched out, added quantity to, over and over again in a formless mess.

“These are all my attempts so far. I found out it starts with chicken bone broth. And contains daikon radishes. And root vegetables. And fennel. But the rest is just blind guessing. He tries to offer me suggestions, but I don’t even know if he remembers what the original tasted like at this point.”

“But you make him soup all the same?”

Qiao Ling nods. “I make him soup all the same. He likes being cared for.”

They devolve into silence once more, this time more comfortably than the last. Lu Guang observes Qiao Ling as she works, stirring the broth and submerging herbs in a small pouch made of cheesecloth. Occasionally, Lu Guang glances at the scribbled-over piece of paper, tallying up all of Qiao Ling’s attempts to replicate Cheng Xiaoshi’s mother’s recipe over the years. Given the amount of time Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling spent arguing, Lu Guang could hardly believe this caring and sweet side of Qiao Ling. They weren’t really siblings, but all the scribbles on that sheet of paper surely remind Lu Guang of something a sister would do for her brother.

After several cycles of simmering, taste-testing, adding ingredients, and simmering once more, Qiao Ling finally declares the soup to be finished. After searching their tiny kitchen and being unable to locate their small wooden serving tray, Qiao Ling settles for retrieving Cheng Xiaoshi from his bed and depositing him in the kitchen beside Lu Guang at the counter.

If his movements were slightly sluggish before, the slowness is only exaggerated now as he gingerly lowers himself to his seat. Lu Guang recalls the small dish of wonton strips and glass of water on the coffee table when he and Qiao Ling came to see him this evening, untouched from how Lu Guang had left them. Cheng Xiaoshi probably hasn’t had anything to eat or drink all day for fear of being sick again. The usually fluffy hair stuck to his temples with sweat indicates he probably does have a fever.

Lu Guang is so focused on Cheng Xiaoshi that he’s surprised when he looks down to see not one bowl of soup, but three being prepared by Qiao Ling.

“We all need to taste-test it, don’t we?” Qiao Ling says with a grin she aims at Cheng Xiaoshi. She slides the bowls across the counter to the boys and places a bowl in front of herself as well.

Cheng Xiaoshi, though still looking haggard, grins back like this is custom, and digs into his soup with a gusto Lu Guang didn’t think he was capable of, given his ailment. Across the counter, Qiao Ling sips from her spoon as well. Not wanting to be rude, Lu Guang dips his spoon into his bowl and brings it to his lips, tasting the soup Qiao Ling has spent the past few hours perfecting. Warmth floods his chest as he swallows the spoonful, and despite not being sick himself, Lu Guang can feel the earthy root vegetables and flavorful broth breathing new life into him. He had no idea Qiao Ling was such a fantastic cook.

“Well?” Qiao Ling asks, looking to Cheng Xiaoshi, who was currently devouring his bowl like he thinks it might be taken from him if he slows down.

He stops suddenly, his spoon clanking against his bowl. He swallows thoughtfully.

“I think you’re getting close!” he says, his smile as sunny as ever. His tone isn’t patronizing; there’s a naïve kindness to it that prevents Qiao Ling from being hurt, though there is a slight disappointment in her eyes that Lu Guang catches, though Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t seem to. It must be frustrating that after all these attempts she’s yet to nail down the correct flavor.

“Maybe it could use more sweetness?” Cheng Xiaoshi muses, like that was something common in bone broth soups.

Nonetheless, Qiao Ling jots down the critique on her cheat sheet diligently, the character for “sweeter” followed by several question marks. Lu Guang doesn’t blame her confusion. His critique is both vague and unhelpful.

All of them finish their bowls of soup, regardless of lack of sweetness. Lu Guang can’t help but marvel at the rich and flavorful taste of the soup, whipped together in only a few hours’ time. When Cheng Xiaoshi begins nodding off at the counter, Qiao Ling places a hand on his shoulder and instructs him to go back to bed.

He nods, sending her a sleepy smile before turning to leave the kitchen.

“Thank you, my landlady!” he says jovially.

“Bah, bah, get out of her before I charge you for it,” Qiao Ling says, sounding more like her usual self, though with the same gentle teasing in her tone she’s been using all day.

Lu Guang waits for Cheng Xiaoshi to leave the room before turning to look Qiao Ling in the eye.

“Sweeter?”

Qiao Ling sucks her lips in for a moment, trying to hold it back, but eventually giggles tumble out of her, the sound of her laughter bouncing off the tiles of the kitchen. Even Lu Guang snorts, unable to help himself.

“He’s always like this,” she says fondly, as she begins ladling the soup into smaller containers to fit in Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi’s fridge. “I try to make him the soup he wants, but he’s so unhelpful. What could have possibly made her soup sweet? Beets?” she asks incredulously. “That would change the color of the broth too much, though. Ah! I can’t even make a guess right now. One day I’m just going to put a spoonful of sugar in his bowl and see if that makes a difference.”

Lu Guang chuckles softly and offers to finish the dishes for her since she cooked the meal. She stays in the apartment a little while longer, chatting with Lu Guang while he washes, and she dries. Afterwards, Lu Gung instructs Qiao Ling to go home before it gets too dark. Qiao Ling agrees, going upstairs to check on Cheng Xiaoshi once more before leaving for the night.

Lu Guang ponders staying downstairs for a few minutes, allowing Cheng Xiaoshi time to get settled into sleep before going up to their room. He has a book he’s been meaning to finish, so Lu Guang goes to the living room and turns on a small lamp, prepared to stay a while.

He only manages to read a few pages before he hears rustling from the top of the stairs, and soon Cheng Xiaoshi is descending them slowly, still wrapped in his quilt.

“I thought you were going to bed,” says Lu Guang.

Cheng Xiaoshi shakes his head petulantly. “I’ve been sleeping all day! I don’t think I can anymore. Watch something with me.”

Lu Guang looks at the novel in his hands, then back to his roommate uncertainly. Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him with hopeful eyes, like he’s a child and Lu Guang is a strict parent deciding whether he’s allowed to stay up past curfew. He really does revert into a younger state when he’s sick.

Lu Guang knows he should tell Cheng Xiaoshi to go back to bed; rest was an important part of getting well again, and even in the dim light he can still see how pale his complexion is. But Cheng Xiaoshi blinks his brown eyes at him once more and Lu Guang feels himself giving in.

“Fine,” Lu Guang says, sounding resigned. He ignores the way his face warms when Cheng Xiaoshi smiles at him and plops down right beside him on the couch. “But only for a short while.” He leans forward to open his laptop on the coffee table and pull up a movie from a few days ago that they never finished. When he leans back on the couch, Cheng Xiaoshi is practically sidled up next to him, legs touching and giant quilt pressing into Lu Guang’s side.

Lu Guang raises an eyebrow, before adding:

“And if you puke on me, I’m never speaking to you again.”

Cheng Xiaoshi laughs and scoots over to the other side of the couch instead. Lu Guang uses his foot to push the small garbage can to Cheng Xiaoshi’s side of the couch as well, though he doesn’t think Cheng Xiaoshi has gotten sick since this morning.

The tense atmosphere from the day has finally fallen from between them, and they watch the movie peacefully. Whenever Lu Guang glances at Cheng Xiaoshi from the corner of his eye, his eyes are bright.

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

Lu Guang jolts awake to the sound of dinging beside his ear.

His alarm. It was just his alarm. He looks around the room in the dim light of the morning sun. His books are still neatly piled on the desk, Cheng Xiaoshi’s clothes from yesterday are still scattered across the floor. He breathes slowly.

He thought this would be easier. He’d only experienced Cheng Xiaoshi being gone from this world for a few hours, so by comparison a world where he softly snores beneath Lu Guang, oblivious to his phone’s own buzzing alarm, should be normal by comparison. But being in this timeline is like wearing a shirt that’s buttoned up wrong. Maybe it’s his body, a year younger, that feels so odd. Maybe it’s this room, this hazy, peaceful atmosphere that’s getting to him. His alarm is still distantly ringing in his ears, and it sounds so much like the sirens from that night. He’s been in this new (old?) life for a month, but nothing has felt comfortable yet.

Lu Guang tries not to dwell on it as he quietly climbs down the ladder of their shared bunkbed and makes his way to the kitchen in his t-shirt and sleep shorts. He’ll make them tea, fix up a simple breakfast, and keep pretending that a month ago his hands weren’t soaked in the hot pulses of Cheng Xiaoshi’s blood. Lu Guang can still feel the crusty sensation of where it dried between his fingers. He washes his hands, taking extra time to scrub them like the phantom blood can finally be burned from his skin’s memory if he uses water that’s hot enough.

When his skin starts to feel sensitive, he finally gives it a rest. He needs to stop doing that. Cheng Xiaoshi is going to notice his scrubbing one of these days and question him about it. He dries his hands on a dishtowel, a fleck of blood still visible only to him on his right knuckle. He won’t wash it again, he won’t wash it again, he won’t—

Where is Cheng Xiaoshi anyway? Shouldn’t he be up by now?

Lu Guang shoves his hands in his pockets and ascends the stairs. He wonders how he should wake him. He doesn’t want to startle him, but Cheng Xiaoshi’s laziness is going to cut breakfast short. Now when they open the studio, he’s going to spend all morning complaining about his hunger, and Lu Guang will spend all morning secretly considering ordering delivery for him, before reminding himself that he never would have done that two years ago to placate him.

Lu Guang’s head is still buzzing with too many colliding thoughts when Cheng Xiaoshi whips open their bedroom door and flies past him, slamming the bathroom door shut louder than necessary.

Lu Guang sighs and paces over the bathroom door, calling “Hurry up in there or we’re going to be—”

That’s about all he gets out before he hears a horrible guttural cough, then the echoing sound of liquid splashing against the toilet water.

Oh.

Lu Guang had forgotten all about this day. This was the first time he had seen Cheng Xiaoshi sick. He’d spent the morning throwing up and the afternoon wasting away on their couch in the living room, whining while Lu Guang tried to figure out what was wrong.

“Cheng Xiaoshi? What’s wrong?” Lu Guang calls through the bathroom door.

More retching. A dumb question, but he’s sure he must have asked something like this the first time around. He opens the bathroom door slowly, peering in to see Cheng Xiaoshi kneeling before their toilet, forehead resting on his forearms as he pants.

“Sick,” Cheng Xiaoshi replies finally, like that wasn’t glaringly obvious.

“Do you think you can stand?” Lu Guang asks.

Cheng Xiaoshi nods, panting for a moment longer before pulling himself to his feet carefully. He leaves the bathroom, and they speak for a moment before Cheng Xiaoshi rushes back to the bathroom a second time. Lu Guang already knows, but says anyway, “You’re in no condition to work today. You should go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t remember Cheng Xiaoshi looking this miserable. His skin is pale and clammy, his bangs hanging limply in front of his eyes as he nods. Lu Guang helps him to his feet this time, allowing himself to keep a hand between Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulders as he walks him to the couch. He leaves for a moment to get him a quilt to cover up with and remembers to grab the wastepaper basket from their room, too, lest Cheng Xiaoshi need to be sick again and not be able to make it to the toilet. Did he continue throwing up the rest of the day? Lu Guang wishes he had committed more of these days to memory.

He passes the quilt over to Cheng Xiaoshi, setting the basket on the floor and lining it with a plastic bag.

“Do you think it was something you ate?”

“How should I know? It’s not like it was written in the bottom of the toilet bowl!” he says indignantly.

Lu Guang never ended up getting sick last time, and they ate the same food yesterday, so he doubts it was food poisoning. Most likely a 24-hour bug that Cheng Xiaoshi was unfortunate to catch. Lu Guang watches Cheng Xiaoshi wrap the quilt around his shoulders, going as far as to pull it over his head as he shivered. Lu Guang doesn’t know how he missed Cheng Xiaoshi’s fever before. He’s obviously freezing right now. Guilt claws at Lu Guang’s throat. He swallows it down.

“It’s probably a stomach virus,” he says curtly.

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him pitifully. “Can you cure me, Lu Guang?”

Lu Guang internally reminds himself of all the good times he will spend with Cheng Xiaoshi after this. One day of sickness is not the end of the world (Lu Guang already knows what that is), so he shouldn’t feel so terrible about leaving Cheng Xiaoshi alone. It’s what he did last time, so he has to follow the flow of the timeline.

“No. What I can do is go down to open the studio. And you can stay up here and keep your puke away from the customers.”

“You’re leaving me?” Cheng Xiaoshi cries. “In my hour of need, you’re going to abandon me?”

Never, he thinks desperately. But this is not the same as that night.

It’s not that serious, Lu Guang reminds himself. It’s one day of being apart from him. The first time this happened Lu Guang had been secretly pleased to be away from Cheng Xiaoshi’s sickness. He didn’t know how to deal with taking care of someone, and it seemed easier to leave Cheng Xiaoshi to his own devices while Lu Guang managed their responsibilities with the studio. He tries to channel that energy now, putting on a show of rolling his eyes at Cheng Xiaoshi.

“I’m going to be directly underneath you, idiot. Just call me if you need something. Someone has to pay rent this month.”

“Do you think Qiao Ling will come to take care of me?”

“Maybe later,” Lu Guang says, thinking of Qiao Ling and her morale-saving soup showing up later today.

“Later? I’m sick now,” Cheng Xiaoshi laments, trying to sit up without jostling himself.

Suddenly, Cheng Xiaoshi sucks in a sharp breath; Lu Guang’s back straightens at the noise.

It’s too similar to the sounds Cheng Xiaoshi made that night. Lu Guang’s skin pebbles with a sudden chill, and his palms begin to sweat instinctively. He can feel the world begin to spin when Cheng Xiaoshi leans forward and throws up what’s left in him in the garbage can beside him.

The sound and the smell and the memories are too much for him, so Lu Guang turns on his heel and leaves the room.

---

This is not a great time to be having a panic attack. Lu Guang has closed himself in the darkroom and is currently counting backwards from one hundred, telling himself that Cheng Xiaoshi is fine and that today is normal and that no one is gasping for their last breaths right now, blood gurgling from a bullet hole in their chest.

But he’s fucked things up. Lu Guang doesn’t remember how he left Cheng Xiaoshi last time, but it wasn’t that suddenly and it definitely wasn’t mid-puke. So now on top of controlling the PTSD he’s not supposed to have, Lu Guang also must control the panic that he’s fucking up a timeline he’s not supposed to know about. There’s too many fears to keep track of, and the day has hardly even begun. Lu Guang looks down at his shaking hands, then immediately regrets that choice, the red lighting of the darkroom not helping his spiraling mental state at all.

He goes to the bathroom in the studio, splashing water on his face and washing his hands for far longer than necessary before leaving, then heads back up to the apartment to fix things.

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him bitterly.

“I—” Lu Guang looks at him guiltily. “I don’t do well around puking.”

“I noticed,” Cheng Xiaoshi says.

“I’m sorry,” Lu Guang says, not knowing what else to say.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s expression softens. Lu Guang could never understand this. How easily forgiven he was.

He grabs the trash can and empties it into the garbage in the kitchen, returning it by Cheng Xiaoshi’s side with a fresh bag in it.

Concern paints Cheng Xiaoshi’s pale features. “Are you sure you aren’t sick too, Lu Guang? You don’t look well.”

Lu Guang remembers his quest to return to the normal timeline before he hits an unchangeable node.

“I’m fine. I should go open the studio. I have my phone, so call if you need anything.”

He heads downstairs, and after a few minutes of preparation, opens the studio. The world won’t stop turning just because of one man’s existential crisis. The morning is mostly quiet, only a few customers coming in to pick up prints from the day before. Lu Guang could spend his free moments developing more photographs in the darkroom, but he can’t bear to go back into the red lighting alone just yet. He spends the morning dusting the studio and wiping down the front windows, completing small, menial tasks while he waits for lunchtime to go check on Cheng Xiaoshi.

He doesn’t call, but Lu Guang doesn’t expect him to, so the morning passes by in relative peace. It reminds Lu Guang of times when Cheng Xiaoshi is on a dive and Lu Guang is left to take care of things while he’s gone. He’s used to this, so he tries not to let it bother him that precious moments he could be spending with Cheng Xiaoshi are being wasted alone.

At lunchtime he closes the studio and returns to the apartment. Cheng Xiaoshi is right where he left him, the quilt pulled up to his chin as he lies on the couch.

“Lu Guaaaaaang…” Cheng Xiaoshi moans, long and desperate. “Everything huuuurts.”

“What hurts?” Lu Guang asks. His body, probably. With the fever and shivering his whole body probably aches. “Is it your stomach still? Your body? Are you going to be sick again?”

Cheng Xiaoshi only grumbles irritably. “You ask too many questions.”

Lu Guang lets out a controlled breath. Ah, there’s the irritation he should have been channeling all morning.

“I’m trying to help you. Be more specific about your symptoms, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“I’m dying, is that specific enough for you?”

Lu Guang’s irritation evaporates, the breath punched out of him. He’s kidding. Lu Guang knows it’s a joke, but it’s not one he likes.

Cheng Xiaoshi ignores whatever expression is on Lu Guang’s face, rolling his eyes back in fake agony. “I’m not gonna make it. Call Qiao Ling. Tell her to come quickly so I can update my will.”

It’s a stupid impulse, but Lu Guang can’t stand it. He needs to touch him. To feel Cheng Xiaoshi, alive, beneath his palms. Lu Guang sits on the edge of the couch, reaching forward towards Cheng Xiaoshi’s face. He opens his eyes suddenly, flinching away from Lu Guang’s touch.

“What are you doing?” he squeaks.

Lu Guang thinks fast. “I’m trying to check your temperature, idiot. We don’t have a thermometer.”

Cheng Xiaoshi blinks a few times, then gingerly leans forward, letting Lu Guang’s cool fingers brush his damp bangs back and rest on his forehead for a moment. Something inside Lu Guang settles at the contact. He’s warm, but not dangerously so. Lu Guang feels his own forehead for comparison with his other hand, and notes that the difference between them is minute.

“A slight fever,” he confirms after a few more seconds. His hand trails down Cheng Xiaoshi’s temple of its own accord before Lu Guang pulls it away reluctantly. Cheng Xiaoshi frowns like he’s disappointed.

Lu Guang stands up. “I’ll see if we have any medicine.”

He leaves the room, mostly to put space between them, and searches the kitchenette for medicine he knows he won’t find. Their kitchen was rarely ever stocked with things they actually needed. It took a long time for Lu Guang to finally begin purchasing useful things for their apartment, like medicine or first aid kits. Right now, all their cupboards are stuffed to the brim with cup noodles and other convenience food. Lu Guang sighs. It will be so long before they can afford nicer groceries.

He returns empty-handed. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t look surprised.

“I don’t know what you expected to find,” he says with a sad snort.

Lu Guang sighs. He needs to get back to the studio. He goes back to the kitchen once more and returns with a glass of water and a dish of plain wonton strips.

“Here. This should be simple enough to digest. Try to eat something and see if you can keep it down. And make sure to drink water. I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

If leaving him was hard a few hours ago, now it’s taking a Herculean amount of strength to leave Cheng Xiaoshi behind. Lu Guang has to stand at the front counter of Time Photo Studio and pretend to be a normal person while his mind is still lingering on the feeling of Cheng Xiaoshi’s clammy skin beneath his hand. He could have gotten him a wet cloth to put on his forehead, at least. He debates going back up, but a customer comes in, and Lu Guang’s attention is needed elsewhere.

After they leave, Lu Guang tackles the darkroom, finally. Leaving these photos for another day could mess up the timeline somehow, and it’s imperative that he keeps things the same. The critical node he’s waiting to change hasn’t happened yet.

He tips a photo back and forth in the developer fluid, wondering if he’d crossed a line to reach for Cheng Xiaoshi the way he did earlier. Lu Guang tended to avoid physical contact in the past. It wasn’t something he was used to, before he met Cheng Xiaoshi. Lu Guang had kept firm physical boundaries between himself and others, holding himself at a distance.

But with Cheng Xiaoshi, there was no such thing as distance. If Cheng Xiaoshi wasn’t casually leaning into Lu Guang’s personal space, he was slinging an arm around his neck, grabbing his sleeve, nuzzling his face into Lu Guang’s shoulder to get his attention. Lu Guang couldn’t fathom that other people could be this physical, and it always confounded him. It didn’t take long in their friendship for Lu Guang to give up on pushing Cheng Xiaoshi away. It was clear he wasn’t ever going to stop invading Lu Guang’s space, and after a while it stopped feeling invasive, truthfully.

But Lu Guang had never been the type to initiate contact. That was one of the toughest parts of being in this timeline, if he was being honest.

---

Lu Guang had realized just how difficult restraining himself could be on his first day in this timeline.

He had only had a few hours to think about it. After declaring Cheng Xiaoshi dead, the police officers had dragged Lu Guang back to the station to question him. Despite Captain Xiao’s patience with him, they could barely get a word out of him, much less a helpful statement. They wanted specifics, any clues to help them with the serial killer case, but Lu Guang could barely breathe, staring at his shaking hands in the bright fluorescent light of the station. Lu Guang didn’t care about answers, he only cared about fixing things.

After a few hours, an officer drove him back to the studio. Lu Guang bounded upstairs, his mind already made up. He would save Cheng Xiaoshi if it was the last thing he did.

He sat down at their shared desk, a picture he took from one year ago lying before him. He could have waited longer to make the decision, but waiting was not going to bring Cheng Xiaoshi back. This might.

Clap!

Lu Guang blinked. The bleak shadows of their bedroom were replaced instantly with streaks of afternoon sunlight streaming in through the large windows of the living room. Lu Guang lowered the phone in his hands, looking at the photo of a small slip of paper resting on his knee—a fortune from a fortune cookie.

“Well?”

The sound of his voice, bright and curious, made Lu Guang flinch.

“What does it say, Lu Guang?”

Lu Guang looked up.

And there he was. Cheng Xiaoshi, staring at him, breathing and alive and wearing his pristine varsity jacket, un-stained by blood. He looked at Lu Guang expectantly, and Lu Guang threw himself at him.

Barely able to contain his emotions, Lu Guang crashed into Cheng Xiaoshi and pulled him into a breathtaking embrace, almost knocking the takeout from his hands.

“Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi had shouted in surprise, not knowing what else to say with the sudden attack of affection.

Lu Guang held tight to Cheng Xiaoshi, feeling his hair tickle his cheek and breathing in his scent. He’d been dead. Just hours before. The police were mid-investigation with a serial killer on the loose, and Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang had gotten too close. Cheng Xiaoshi was unexpectedly killed, dying as he lay in Lu Guang’s arms. He could still hear Cheng Xiaoshi’s stuttering gasps as the blood gurgled out of the wound in his chest. Lu Guang’s dry palms still felt slick with the sensation of warm blood.

Lu Guang was so grateful for another chance, another moment with Cheng Xiaoshi. He almost lost himself in the sensation of feeling him, warm and safe and alive in his arms.

But then the second rule of diving flashed through his head like lightning.

Change nothing.

This was his first lesson.

“What’s wrong, Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked him.

Lu Guang stepped away suddenly, still marveling at the sound of Cheng Xiaoshi’s voice and reeling for an excuse. He awkwardly returned to his chair and picked up the piece of paper he was taking a picture of when he’d reinhabited the past.

“My fortune,” he said stiffly. “It told me to hug a treasured friend.”

Cheng Xiaoshi beamed at his response. “Does it bring good luck?”

“Sure,” Lu Guang said, trying to recover when everything about Cheng Xiaoshi’s smile made him want to cry. It worked. He’d dove back in time and would find a way to fix everything. He’d find a way to make it up to Cheng Xiaoshi for losing him before.

But the damage to the timeline had already been done. The rest of the day Cheng Xiaoshi kept bringing it up.

“Don’t you think you should let your treasured friend handle that invoice for you?”

“C’mon, Lu Guang! Try the crane. I’m here with you to bring you good fortune after all.”

Lu Guang couldn’t escape it. One misstep, and he’d already altered the timeline. He’d never understood why following directions during a dive was so hard for Cheng Xiaoshi, but it was becoming clearer now.

It wasn’t until they were in their apartment that night, Qiao Ling meeting them to discuss a new client, that things shifted back to normal.

Qiao Ling stood in the living room, thumbing through posts on her phone, when Cheng Xiaoshi brought it up.

“Hey Qiao Ling, did you know that I’m Lu Guang’s treasured friend?” he asked, pointing to leftover fortune cookies. Lu Guang had trashed the piece of paper from before, not letting Cheng Xiaoshi read the message on it that contradicted his odd behavior. “I’ve been bringing him good fortune all day!” he said proudly.

Qiao Ling didn’t look from up from the phone she was scrolling through, which didn’t have its usual bunny case.

“Hey, Lu Guang,” she said, unimpressed, “could you tell your lucky charm that if he stopped spending money on mobile gatcha games and take-out he might be able to afford his monthly rent?”

“Hey, that’s my phone!” Cheng Xiaoshi shouted, pushing past Lu Guang to fight Qiao Ling for his cell phone. His reach was longer, so after a second of wrestling it was back in his hands. “How did you even unlock it?”

Qiao Ling sneered. “If you’re foolish enough to make your password your birthday then you deserved it. Look, I bet Lu Guang’s password is harder to crack. He’s younger than you but still wiser. Right, Lu Guang?”

Lu Guang blinked, suddenly remembering this conversation from the first time they had it. His password was also his birthday.

Cheng Xiaoshi burst into laughter, knowing Lu Guang’s password to be just as easy as his, and Lu Guang fumbled with his settings, slinking shamefully over to the other side of the room to change it out of their line of sight, like he had years ago. He silently thanked Qiao Ling for returning the conversation back to the normal flow of the timeline. He needed to remember not to slip up like he did today. There was a larger node he was aiming to change, and he couldn’t falter in the early stages.

He looked down at his phone’s password settings and gave himself a reminder.

“Are you going to tell me your new one?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked, throwing his arm over Lu Guang’s shoulder and leaning into his personal space.

There it was again. Lu Guang’s heartbeat tripled at the sensation of Cheng Xiaoshi so close to him. Lu Guang resisted the urge to pull Cheng Xiaoshi in closer, to revel in the sound of his breathing and the feeling of his pulse. If the old Lu Guang didn’t do those things, he couldn’t do them either.

If Lu Guang was a little slower in pushing him away, well. That was neither here nor there.

---

Lu Guang shakes his head at the memory as he pins the photos on the line to dry and leaves the darkroom. The sun is dipping behind the buildings across the street, so it must be close to closing time. Lu Guang looks at his watch. Any minute now, Qiao Ling will be bursting through the studio door to make Cheng Xiaoshi her magical soup, reviving him from his illness and returning the vitality to him. Lu Guang checks the register to make sure the till is correctly counted, glancing at the front door every few minutes.

After a while it begins to unnerve him. Was she this late last time? Lu Guang could swear she came around closing time. Lu Guang opens his phone to check for messages from her, swiping over to his Recent Calls menu to ask where she is.

Lu Guang’s blood congeals in his veins.

His last few Outgoing Calls are all to Cheng Xiaoshi, from days ago. Lu Guang hasn’t spoken with Qiao Ling today.

If he hasn’t called Qiao Ling, that means she doesn’t even know Cheng Xiaoshi is sick. If she doesn’t know he’s sick, she is unaware that she is supposed to urgently come to the studio. If she doesn’t come quickly, she won’t have time to make Cheng Xiaoshi her replicated recipe. If she doesn’t make the soup, the timeline—

Lu Guang puts his hands to his head, his fingers gripping the roots of his hair as he pulls in frustration.

This can’t be happening. Just one slip up, and everything could fall apart. What if eating Qiao Ling’s soup was a critical node? Lu Guang’s painstaking care of keeping this timeline the same will all be undone because he forgot to make a single phone call.

Lu Guang tries to ignore the tremor in his hands as he dials Qiao Ling’s number.

“He’s sick?” Qiao Ling asks him. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me sooner. I could have taken care of him so you could keep running the studio.”

“I still opened today. Cheng Xiaoshi is upstairs.”

“You left him alone?” she asks. There’s a little too much emotion packed into the question for Lu Guang to overlook.

“Should I not have?”

Qiao Ling hesitates. “No, it’s—it’s fine…he’s just sensitive about being left alone. You know.”

You know.

She leaves the implication dangling before him. Lu Guang wants to slap himself. He did know. And now this is the second time he’s left Cheng Xiaoshi by himself when he was feeling vulnerable. Lu Guang burns with shame.

“He’s been asking for you,” Lu Guang tells her, feeling defeated. “Is there any chance you could stop by?”

“Probably not tonight,” she says. Lu Guang’s heart sinks even further. “There’s an event going on downtown. All the trains are behind schedule, and it will be impossible to hail a cab in the crowd. You said he was asking for me? He probably just wants—well, it doesn’t matter now. Tell him I can stop by tomorrow if he’s still feeling unwell, okay?”

Their phone call ends shortly afterwards. Lu Guang stares out the window of the studio, watching the sky become streaked in pinks and purples. It’s getting late. He supposes there’s nothing else to do but to face Cheng Xiaoshi. He doubts there’s any way to recover the timeline now. All he can hope for is that today’s missteps didn’t change any critical nodes for the future.

Lu Guang’s limbs feel heavy as he climbs the stairs, every changed minute weighing down his body as he goes to check on his friend. Cheng Xiaoshi is exactly where Lu Guang left him, though now he has an arm thrown over his eyes, trying to block out the rays of the setting sun as they beam in through the windows of the sunroom.

“Hey.” Lu Guang sits in the chair beside the couch.

Cheng Xiaoshi pulls his arm away from his pale face. His eyebrows draw up in concern. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Lu Guang can’t even fathom what his expression must look like right now. “Yeah, just tired.”

Even though he’s ill, Cheng Xiaoshi still manages to grin. “Looks like someone is finally realizing how much work I do in the studio. And you say I don’t pull my own weight.”

Lu Guang tries for a smile, though he doesn’t think he quite manages it. “You’re right. Today was hard without you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cheng Xiaoshi sits up gingerly. “If you’re sick too, you should say something.” His concern almost cheers Lu Guang up, but then he continues, “When Qiao Ling gets here, you can ask her for some—”

��Qiao Ling isn’t coming.”

He keeps his eyes trained on his lap, so he doesn’t have to see Cheng Xiaoshi’s disappointed expression.

Lu Guang is so tired. He wishes he could freeze this conversation, this whole day, and go nap for a thousand hours. The stress of it all is sucking the marrow from his bones. He wishes he could do today over again. He doesn’t know if he’d have the strength to do today over again. The longer Lu Guang exists in this timeline, the more he wonders if his mission is even possible. Will living in the past really allow Lu Guang to eventually change Cheng Xiaoshi’s future? Or is Cheng Xiaoshi existing on borrowed time? He thinks of today’s mistakes, piling up on one another, how one misstep can change the entire course of the future, and feels dizzy.

He jumps a bit when the feeling of cool glass brushes against his knuckles. Cheng Xiaoshi is pushing a glass of water into his hand.

“Drink.”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s stern command is so absolute that Lu Guang actually obeys, taking a sip of the water, which turns into a gulp, which turns to him finishing the glass.

Cheng Xiaoshi pushes the plate of wonton strips across the table to Lu Guang, who delicately takes one and crunches down on it.

“Better?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks.

Lu Guang nods. The world has righted itself a little, and the shining edges of his vision have receded back to normalcy. He looks down at the empty glass in his hand, the dish on the table. Recognition hits him.

“I left these out for you,” Lu Guang accuses.

Cheng Xiaoshi shrugs, the blanket slipping from his shoulder a little. “You looked like you needed them more.”

Lu Guang sighs. “You haven’t eaten anything today, have you?”

He shrugs again. “Not hungry.”

Lu Guang thinks of the last time he lived this day, and the way Cheng Xiaoshi devoured his meal. He doesn’t believe him.

“It’s just that…normally, when I’m sick—” Cheng Xiaoshi cuts himself off, like he doesn’t want to say it and make Lu Guang feel worse.

Lu Guang finishes his thought for him. “Qiao Ling normally cooks for you, doesn’t she?”

“It’s not just that. It’s stupid, really,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s a tradition she started when we were kids. She tries to recreate a dish my mom made for me when I was little.”

Even after years of knowing him, Lu Guang can’t remember Cheng Xiaoshi ever telling him this story himself. Should Lu Guang have thought to ask?

“What dish?” he asks carefully.

“Just soup,” he says, sounding shy. “I guess when I was little it was difficult getting me to eat nutritious foods. When I was sick my mom would make this incredible soup that had a ton of nutritional value, but somehow didn’t taste bad! It was like she covered up the taste of every awful vegetable somehow.” Cheng Xiaoshi looks down, fiddling with the edge of his quilt. “I never really questioned how she made all those healthy things taste so good. Special mom powers, I guess.”

Now Lu Guang remembers why he never asked for this story. He never liked this, hearing fond memories about Cheng Xiaoshi’s parents. He’d never tell him, but Lu Guang hates them. He hates how they abandoned their son and constantly villainizes them in his head whenever Cheng Xiaoshi brings them up.

He also hates them because he can’t stand the way Cheng Xiaoshi looks after talking about them. The sad, distant look in his eyes as his gaze trails back to the door, like part of him is always waiting for them to return through it.

Lu Guang stands suddenly, startling Cheng Xiaoshi. “What was in this soup?”

“Lu Guang?”

Lu Guang rifles through a drawer in their kitchenette, locating a piece of scrap paper. “What were the ingredients?”

Cheng Xiaoshi looks dumbstruck, still not entirely sure what Lu Guang’s intent is. “I’m not sure. Qiao Ling has been trying to recreate it for years.”

“Then tell me the ingredients you know to be correct. I’ll try to make it.”

“You don’t know how to cook!” Cheng Xiaoshi says incredulously. “And you definitely don’t know how to make soup.”

Lu Guang does. A year from now Cheng Xiaoshi will make him a bowl of noodles so lumpy and overcooked that Lu Guang will actually learn to cook just to spite him and make a better bowl. He knows enough to get by, not that Cheng Xiaoshi would know that right now.

“I’ve seen cooking shows,” he responds flippantly, grabbing his wallet from the table and putting it in his back pocket. “I’ll figure it out. Now, what ingredients can you remember?”

Cheng Xiaoshi rattles off a few ingredients absently, a look of disbelief on his face as Lu Guang jots them down on his paper. Lu Guang mentally tacks on a few other ingredients, remembering that they were in Qiao Ling’s soup when she made it for them originally. He wishes he could remember everything on her scribbled over recipe sheet, but this will have to do for now.

Lu Guang looks at the ingredients and nods. He makes it all the way to the stairs before stopping short. He turns to Cheng Xiaoshi, quilt still loosely wrapped around his shoulders and bewildered expression still plastered on his pale face.

“Will you be fine on your own while I go to the market?” he asks seriously.

Cheng Xiaoshi blinks at the question.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Lu Guang nods. “Call if you need anything.”

---

The trip to the market is quick. Lu Guang grabs herbs, spices, and fresh vegetables— foods that until now would have been considered a luxury for him and Cheng Xiaoshi. If there’s a possibility it could go in a healing soup, Lu Guang adds it to his basket. He pays for it all with little concern for the few bills remaining in his wallet and hurries back to the studio.

Lu Guang paces down the road, lined with shadows now that the sun has almost fully set, with a paper bag in his arms full of ingredients he only kind of knows how to cook. He enters the studio and goes straight upstairs to Cheng Xiaoshi, who must have watched him walk up the road from the window, clammy handprint still on the glass behind him as he turns to look at Lu Guang.

Lu Guang wonders if his own expression matches the unsure one on Cheng Xiaoshi’s face.

“Well,” he starts uncomfortably. He looks down at the ingredients in the bag, which look much more intimidating now that he’s standing before Cheng Xiaoshi with them. He clears his throat delicately. “I’m going to get started.

“Let me help you—” Cheng Xiaoshi starts, trying to stand. He blinks rapidly and falls back to the couch, too lightheaded from not eating all day.

Lu Guang fills another glass of water and takes the added step to put it directly in Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand this time, the same way Cheng Xiaoshi did earlier with him. He doesn’t speak until he sees Cheng Xiaoshi take a tiny, tentative sip.

“You should be resting,” Lu Guang says. “Let me do this for you.”

The flush in cheeks probably has more to do with the illness than anything, but Cheng Xiaoshi’s expression is swirl of emotions as he relents, leaning back into the couch with a quiet “okay.”

Lu Guang returns to the kitchenette with his bag of spoils. He’d sat with Qiao Ling for the entire time that she made her healing soup the last time, so it shouldn’t be that hard to recreate a facsimile, right? Simmer some broth, chop a few vegetables, do something with herbs, how difficult could it be?

He puts their one large pot on top of their hot plate and dumps in a container’s worth of store-bought chicken bone broth. He turns on the hot plate. Step one complete.

“You should have the herbs in there already,” Lu Guang hears an annoying voice call from behind him.

He looks over his shoulder at a snuggled-up Cheng Xiaoshi, eyes closed and breathing too evenly for someone who was awake but two minutes ago.

Grumbling under his breath, Lu Guang turns off the heat and pulls out the tiny cutting board they have, ripping a few sprigs of each herb off their stems. He sets them on the board, knife hovering over them, but hesitates. Did Qiao Ling chop these?

“She normally puts them in whole.”

Lu Guang rolls his eyes and puts the knife down, reaching over the pot with his handful of herbs.

“In a bag.”

His hand stills.

“Made of cheesecloth.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi!”

Now Lu Guang is glaring over his shoulder. Cheng Xiaoshi smirks in his “sleep.”

It goes on like that for a while, with Lu Guang completing a handful of steps before a certain sleeping patient’s voice drifts from behind him with some unsolicited advice. Eventually Lu Guang gives up on pretenses and pulls a chair up to the kitchenette and glares at it pointedly until Cheng Xiaoshi happily takes a seat. Lu Guang only lets him stay after he finishes his whole glass of water.

But it’s…nice. Neither of them have ever been good cooks. And it won’t be months until they’ve built up a strong enough reputation from diving to earn them some real money for groceries. But it reminds Lu Guang of a time not that long ago, a time that hasn’t yet happened, where he and Cheng Xiaoshi would stand in their tiny kitchenette, shoulder to shoulder, as they argued about how much bean paste to put in their mapo tofu. Emotion still claws at his throat when he thinks of it, of a Cheng Xiaoshi older than the one before him (though not much more mature) whose days were unknowingly numbered. Lu Guang stops cooking twice to scrub his hands in the sink at the thought of it.

“It’s no wonder you never get sick, Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi says as he watches Lu Guang paw at the edge of the sink for their bar of soap. “Surgeons probably wash their hands less often than you.”

Lu Guang pauses, looking at the red, sudsy skin on his hands. He swallows and rinses them off.

The whole cooking process takes about an hour. Lu Guang wonders if he should let it cook longer, but with how famished Cheng Xiaoshi looks after a day of not eating, he’s not sure he wants to wait any longer.

“It’s probably done,” he says, trying to sound sure of himself as he turns off the heat. He looks over at his scrap sheet once more, wondering what ingredients from Qiao Ling’s paper he might have missed in preparing this dish. With Chinese yams and codonopsis root, it should at least help Cheng Xiaoshi’s digestion, thought Lu Guang can’t speak for the taste. He’s about to start rooting through their kitchenette for a clean bowl when a memory hits him. Qiao Ling’s blocky handwriting, a word with several question marks after it. She and Lu Guang giggling at Cheng Xiaoshi’s expense.

It probably won’t make a difference, but before Cheng Xiaoshi can look, Lu Guang grabs their jar of honey that they use for tea and tips it over the pot, dumping a small glob in.

He stirs the soup a few times for it to dissolve, then pulls out a bowl and ladles a large helping of soup into it before pushing it in front of Cheng Xiaoshi.

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at it, then back to Lu Guang, eyebrows pinched up.

“Aren’t you going to pour yourself some? We’re supposed to eat it together.”

Lu Guang could argue that this is Cheng Xiaoshi’s meal. He’s the sick one here. He’s the one who hasn’t eaten all day. But he can’t keep his composure with Cheng Xiaoshi’s brown eyes shining at him like that. Maybe it’s some sort of tradition he and Qiao Ling have. Lu Guang relents and pours a second, albeit less full, bowl.

“Happy?” he asks.

Judging by Cheng Xiaoshi’s smile, he must be. He finally begins eating his soup after that, so Lu Guang takes it as a victory.

He looks down at his own bowl. He has to admit, he is curious. He scoops up a spoonful, trying to get as many bits of vegetable as possible, and eats it. Warmth flows through his chest, same as before, with the earthy flavors of the vegetables complimenting the chicken broth. Even some of the more complex flavors of the traditional Chinese herbs are more muted, making them a little less bitter than last time. It’s not a perfect replication, but hopefully Cheng Xiaoshi enjoys the attempt all the same.

Lu Guang looks up from his bowl to ask Cheng Xiaoshi what he thinks, but the sight of him has Lu Guang stopping in his tracks.

He’s crying.

“Cheng Xiaoshi?” Lu Guang says, unable to disguise how worried he sounds.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes squeeze shut as hot tears drip down his cheeks. He opens them slowly and tries to blink them away, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand as he takes another careful bite. But the second he swallows, more tears fall.

“How did you do this?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks, voice thick.

“You can stop if you don’t like it—” Lu Guang tries to tell him.

Cheng Xiaoshi sniffs a little. “It tastes like my mother’s.”

Lu Guang looks down at his bowl and freezes.

This wasn’t a part of the plan.

He was supposed to recreate Qiao Ling’s attempt at this soup, not actually try to make his mother’s recipe. It’s Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling’s tradition, and now Lu Guang has usurped it and through blind, hasty grocery shopping and an impulsive addition managed to find a combination of ingredients that satisfied Cheng Xiaoshi. Is this going to mess up the timeline? Has Lu Guang somehow tripped up in an even greater way than before, unable to stop himself from smashing this timeline into ruin before he can attempt to find the correct node that will save Cheng Xiaoshi in the future?

He can feel himself falling into another spiral, but when he looks at Cheng Xiaoshi, the ball of anxiety in his gut unravels minutely.

While Lu Guang has been wrestling with another panic attack, Cheng Xiaoshi’s face has broken into a radiant smile. Tears still shimmer at the edges of his eyes as he takes bite after reverent bite, but the joy on his face is enough to stop Lu Guang from losing all composure.

Lu Guang takes another sip of the soup. A soup that tastes like home to Cheng Xiaoshi. When he is sick and miserable, when he craves warmth and care, this is the dish that he longs for. A soup that reminds him of his mother’s love, no matter how distant a memory it is to him now. A dish that Qiao Ling has spent almost a decade trying to make, purely so she could help Cheng Xiaoshi feel precisely like this.

Because what even is the point of all of this if not to make Cheng Xiaoshi happy?

He prays that the timeline will favor him in this one moment, because when he looks at the joy on Cheng Xiaoshi’s face, Lu Guang can’t find any regret left in him.

Cheng Xiaoshi looks to Lu Guang and clears his throat a little.

“You better eat your soup before it gets cold. If you’re not careful, I might eat your bowl too.”

Lu Guang wraps a hand around his bowl protectively, and Cheng Xiaoshi’s laughter chases away all his doubt.

---

“Aghh!! I can’t believe you spilled broth all over it! Lu Guang, I’ve not known you to be so clumsy.”

Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang both look at the soaked sheet of paper, the ink already starting to blot.

“You don’t happen to remember the quantities of all the ingredients you used, do you?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks Lu Guang.

Lu Guang looks at the paper forlornly. “I barely remember what I bought. I was picking through the vegetable section at the market at random.”

There’s barely enough soup in the pot for another full bowl (Cheng Xiaoshi devoured two of them, though Lu Guang forced him to eat slowly), and most of the vegetables had already been eaten, so there isn’t much evidence left for them to pick through.

While the universe seemed to favor Lu Guang in giving him such a convenient out, Lu Guang can’t help but pity Cheng Xiaoshi. He wonders if their destroyed ingredient list will fill him with heartbreak, now that his mother’s healing soup recipe has been washed away.

But Cheng Xiaoshi picks up the remains of the list, smiling good naturedly.

“Ah, it’s alright. I’m sure Qiao Ling still wants to try and recreate the recipe anyway. It would make her sad to discover that you’re such a cooking prodigy on your first try.” He balls up the wet paper and throws it away. “Let’s keep today between us, alright?”

“Are you sure?” Lu Guang asks.

Cheng Xiaoshi nods, still looking happier than he’s been all day. Lu Guang’s heartbeat quickens every time he looks at him. It’s hard to believe the change in Cheng Xiaoshi after just one meal. It could just be that after a full day of not eating, his revitalization has more to do with a full stomach than anything. Or perhaps the ingredients in the soup truly are medicinal. But color has returned to Cheng Xiaoshi’s cheeks once more, and he’s moving with an ease that he hasn’t had since yesterday.

Lu Guang gathers their bowls, washing them in the sink and leaving them on a dishtowel to dry. He sees Cheng Xiaoshi return to the couch instead of going upstairs.

“You should probably go to bed,” Lu Guang tells him, prioritizing responsibility.

“I’ve been sleeping all day!” Cheng Xiaoshi responds indignantly. “Come watch something with me.”

Lu Guang weighs the options of arguing with Cheng Xiaoshi versus doing what he wants. When he looks at Cheng Xiaoshi’s pouting expression, Lu Guang finds himself giving in, yet again. He tells himself it’s only because Cheng Xiaoshi is sick.

“Fine.”

Lu Guang takes out his laptop and pulls up a movie from the other day that they didn’t finish watching. As he’s adjusting the volume on his speakers, Cheng Xiaoshi speaks.

“Hey, Lu Guang?”

Lu Guang turns to face him. “Hm?”

“Thank you.” Cheng Xiaoshi looks at his lap shyly. “For today.”

The earnest admission stops Lu Guang short.

Every moment from today has been one continuous misstep after another. The stress, the anguish, the panic from it all was enough to take years off Lu Guang’s life. Lu Guang has known from the start that his mission to save Cheng Xiaoshi would be difficult, but days like today truly made him question if saving Cheng Xiaoshi was even possible. Lu Guang knows what the future looks like, but he’s more unsure of it than he’s ever been. Keeping the timeline the same long enough to find the critical node that will save Cheng Xiaoshi’s life might be a dream so farfetched that it might not even be worth attempting.

But Lu Guang thinks of the tear-streaked smile after Cheng Xiaoshi took that first bite.

Spending every waking moment agonizing over his next step won’t get him anywhere. Instead, Lu Guang folds up that smile and tucks it into a corner of his mind for safekeeping.

Cheng Xiaoshi thanked him for today.

Maybe that is enough.

Lu Guang offers Cheng Xiaoshi a nod, unable to help how bashful he feels as well. If he opened his mouth to respond, he worries that something far more revealing might tumble out of him. Something about promising to always care for him, to always keep him safe. He settles on a small dip of his chin and hopes it conveys what words can’t.

It only takes a moment longer to set up the movie. Afterwards, Lu Guang sits on his side of the couch. Cheng Xiaoshi sidles up next to him, so close the quilt he’s wrapped in presses into Lu Guang’s side.

Lu Guang pointedly does not look into his eyes when he asks, “Are you feeling well, now?”

“Yes,” Cheng Xiaoshi replies happily.

“And you’re not going to throw up on me?”

“Of course not!”

Lu Guang nods to himself. Then he leans forward to press ‘play.’

He does not tell Cheng Xiaoshi to move. Timeline be damned.

#link click #shi guang dai li ren #lu guang #cheng xiaoshi #shiguang #qiao ling #link click fic #my writing

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 1 year

Text

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 11: April I

{{ Chapter 10: March I | Chapter 12: May I }} Chapter Directory

noooow y'all can understand why i had to rename the ex-boyfriend to zack instead of having him be porco because i made him too much of a dick skdjfksd

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✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, mutual pining, idiots in love, the ex boyfriend that used to be porco that i renamed to zack, emotionally abusive behavior, negative self-talk, levi being kinda mean again, levi being bad at feelings ✧ word count ➼ ~7.2k

It was finally spring break. After the events of last month, you were more than ready to leave town and get a much needed vacation. Luckily, Hizuru wasn't far and was just across the bay, so you got a nice cruise ride in addition to your time spent at the resort. You decided to keep this trip just between you and Petra, spending the week with just the two of you to recharge and be ready to take on the rest of the semester once you came back.

Levi couldn't be more thrilled. The past few months have all involved something related to you that ended up distracting him from reading or writing. Having you gone for a week means he can finally catch up on work without being distracted by your shenanigans every other week.

However, he currently found himself standing at the doorway of the apartment, glancing into the living room. He was thrilled for sure, but despite that, he seemed to have a heavy heart when he entered his empty apartment. It didn't make any sense to him. Why would he feel remorseful that you're gone when all you've ever done is be a pain in the ass to him?

He couldn't deny it. He missed you. Levi felt a confusing mix of emotions and he couldn't keep his mind off you all week. Given your habits with partying, he wondered how you were doing on your own in a foreign town. Sure, Petra was with you, but she could hardly count as a sober contact. If she was drinking with you, you'd have to rely on yourself to get home, which was unsettling to him.

He found himself both looking forward to and dreading you getting back home. It got to the point that when you did find yourself back home, Levi did everything in his power to ignore your presence. He was too confused and lost in his thoughts to want to be around you. He would have a mix of happy thoughts and distressing ones of confusion and anxiety while you were around. Thus, he barely said a word to you once you got home.

"Nice to see you too, I guess," you mumbled, a little taken aback by your roommate's increased level of aloofness.

Ever since November and especially since January, the two of you had started to bond. Levi wasn't always referring to you as an annoying undergrad and you no longer saw him as just your "grumpy roommate". You understood each other more and there was some foundation of basic respect there, but none of that was to be seen at the moment.

You awkwardly shifted around the house as you unpacked your suitcase from the trip.

"Hey, have you seen my phone charger?" you asked Levi, who was standing in the kitchen, brewing his late afternoon tea.

"No," he said, glancing at you. "Why would I have?"

"You're the one that's been here all week," you said with a shrug.

"Yeah," Levi scoffed, "actually doing work, unlike whatever the fuck you were doing across the bay."

You frowned at him, slightly offended by his comment.

"Hey, I was doing work!" you said with a pout. "Whatever. Can I borrow your charger then? My phone's almost dead."

"What else is new?" Levi said dryly.

You were on your way to grabbing his phone charger when you heard him make that comment and you immediately halted, scowling while looking back at him.

"Okay, what the hell is up with you?" you said sternly as you walked back towards him. "You've barely said a word to me ever since I got home. Did I say something? Do something? Did I not clean something the way you wanted it?"

Levi responded with an overly exasperated groan.

"God, it's such a pain in the ass to have you back again."

You fell quiet at his comment. The fact that this was all he said in response to your questions over what you did wrong indicated to you that it was just your presence that he was pissed about. You weren't sure why his comment stung you as harshly as it did. He essentially thought the same thing when you first moved in and you didn't give a single shit—but now the idea of him hating you made you want to shut down and hide.

"Well," you spoke quietly, "I'm sorry being around me is so bothersome for you."

Levi didn't respond, which only confirmed your suspicions.

You clenched your fists as you felt your emotions beginning to rise up and threaten to boil over.

He was an asshole. That's all he was and that never changed and you were a fool to think otherwise. He probably hated you for all the times he had to come rescue you from some dumb situation that you found yourself in.

"Whatever," you whispered as you walked past him and grabbed your phone and keys.

"Where are you going?" Levi said with a sigh as you opened the door.

"Getting some air, I guess," you grumbled before glancing back at him without fully making eye contact. "I thought we were over this."

~~~~~

You had stormed out in such a hurry that you didn't even bother to change into outdoor clothes. You were currently swinging alone at an empty playground that had been long abandoned for the day due to the incoming storm. The wind blew through your hair, which had come undone from its ponytail and you lacked the motivation to put it back up. You were wearing a loose t-shirt with a pair of sweatpants on.

Normally, you'd feel a sense of shame for being out in public like this—but right now, you couldn't give less of a shit. You needed to get away from Levi.

Things had begun to improve ever since November when he took you on that drive after your aunt had decided to tear your entire life apart through a single phone call. You had reached some point of mutual respect. He wasn't the aloof asshole you thought he was, and you weren't the naïve undergrad that he thought you were. After January, it even seem like he cared for your well-being. He went out in the middle of the night searching for you and even went out of his way to care for you when you were sick.

Yet, he seemed to have completely regressed after you came back from spring break. What if you were misreading him? What if his opinion about you never actually changed and you were just deluding yourself?

Maybe I should find another apartment after all.

Levi's lack of a response earlier when you were trying to figure out what was wrong only confirmed your suspicion that he thought you were a nuisance. You had asked him what you did wrong so you can do better, and all he responded with was that he was sick of having you around. If it was a few months ago, you'd be more than happy to continue being a nuisance to him. With how grumpy he always was, it felt like a comedic job to you.

However, after you had opened up to him about your dynamic with your aunt and even slightly alluded to your situation with Zack, you had hoped that dynamic would have changed or at least improved. The fact that it didn't seem to wear away at you.

His comment had hurt you.

You gripped at the chain holding the swing onto the bar above it as thoughts of your inability to hold any type of long-term friendship began to swirl around in your mind. Oluo and Gunther were surface-level at best. You called Petra your 'best friend', but even that relationship felt shallow, as if she was just tolerating you. You were always the one reaching out.

Being tolerated was a feeling you were used to. After all, that basically summed up your relationship with Zack. You had started off as high school sweethearts, but over the course of the three years that was your stormy relationship with him, you knew that he only tolerated your presence, which is why he was more than ready to kick you out in June.

As if he was listening in on your thoughts, you felt your phone buzz and frowned when you saw that you had received a text from your ex-boyfriend.

> [zack (3:45pm)]: we need to talk. i'll pick you up at the bar we used to go to. > [you (3:46pm)]: why > [zack (3:51pm)]: wtf do you mean why? plus some of your shit is still at my place > [you (3:53pm)]: wonder who's fault that was > [zack (3:54pm)]: the hell is up with this attitude? just get to the bar, i'll be there in 20.

~~~~~

Levi's day had been going terribly. Without even considering your little tantrum, he was already stressed about a research update he had to do in two weeks that he hadn't had the time to work on.

The forefront of his mind blamed it on you. You came home and immediately began disrupting his life and bringing chaos home again—but he knew that wasn't true. It wasn't your fault. You were gone for an entire week throughout spring break and he still wasn't able to get anything done. His inability to work had nothing to do with you.

Upon realizing that fact, he scrunched his eyebrows together, wondering if he had actually been a bit too cold with you once you got home. He had caught himself getting much softer with you throughout the last month, even allowing you to sleep in the same bed with him because you had a nightmare. That, itself, was already unheard of for Levi Ackerman.

He brought out his phone. The time was a bit past 6:30pm. He had around two hours before he had to get to the café to pick up a closing shift from Onyankopon. He opened up his text message thread with you and frowned, wondering if he should shoot you an apology message.

Eventually, he decided against it. After all, why should he apologize to you when you were the one being a little shit?

Still, you were gone for a while. It was around 2:00pm when you stormed out of the apartment, and it was starting to get late.

He placed his phone in his pocket, annoyed for even getting remotely concerned about your well-being for something as simple as you stepping out of the house for the day. He could feel himself getting attached, despite all of his efforts to get himself not to. The feelings that you elicited out of him were miserable to deal with and he knew the best way to get rid of them was to put a stop to any feelings of this newfound attachment. Why he was even getting attached to you in the first place was astonishing. It pissed him off.

He let out an exasperated sigh as he shut his laptop and got up from his desk, walking out of his bedroom. He grabbed his jacket off of the coat hanger as well as his car keys, deciding on going for a drive in an attempt to clear his mind from any remaining thoughts of you.

~~~~~

After an exceedingly awkward dinner and car ride with your ex-boyfriend, you finally arrived back at Zack's apartment. You felt an uncomfortable, dull feeling appear in your chest as you walked into the apartment that you had lived in for the first two years of your undergrad. It could hardly be even called an apartment. It appeared more like a loft that had multiple bedrooms and bathrooms and nearly triple the amount of the living space that you currently had in your apartment with Levi. It was obnoxiously luxurious and it ironically made you appreciate your humble lifestyle with Levi now.

You shuffled awkwardly as you followed Zack towards the dining room area. The t-shirt and sweatpants that you wore felt out of place and inappropriate. He rarely saw you like this, if ever. Even when you were home for the entire day, you were constantly wearing outdoor clothes, like a blouse and jeans, around him. That's just how you were. Appearing the way you did now around him felt wrong, although you couldn't quite explain why. It wasn't that you were uncomfortable with dressing more casually—you did that at home now all the time, but the minute that you stepped out the door of your home and into Zack's, you began to feel your anxiety rise up.

"Well, you certainly look like a slob," Zack mumbled, glancing at your outfit.

"Well, I didn't have time to dress up for you, Your Majesty," you retorted, frowning at him, "since you decided to text me last minute."

Zack was not used to this outspoken nature of your personality. When you were with him, you were much more pleasurable to be around—at least according to Zack. He did not appreciate this new facet of your personality that has suddenly arisen within the past few months.

He made a head nod towards a box of some of your stuff that was casually thrown into a corner of the living room. You looked over before taking a seat at the dining table.

"What did you want to talk about?"

He sat down across from you.

"Listen," he began, and you immediately clenched your jaw, having a basic idea of where this was going. "I know I overreacted when we left off. I shouldn't have exploded at you like that. I shouldn't have kicked you out."

Your mind went back to the fateful interaction with Zack that led to you being forced to find an apartment last minute. No matter how you tried to rationalize it, you knew that Zack was controlling and prone to getting extremely angry whenever you resisted his wishes. Small grievances with him had built up to a penultimate point in which you confronted him and he reacted poorly.

If this was any other day, you'd likely immediately tell him to fuck off—but the events of the day that had happened earlier with Levi left you much more emotionally vulnerable than usual. You'd be lying if the idea of falling into someone's arms didn't bring even the slightest amount of comfort to your mind—even if that someone was Zack.

However, as Zack continued to monologue about the potential of you moving back in with him, you began to pull up the reality of your relationship with him. You were definitely more unhappy than you were willing to admit to anyone and you knew it had something to do with his controlling nature. He had kept you pretty isolated from any potential friends—and now that you think about it, that could be why you struggled with making and keeping deep friendships now.

No matter how desperate you were right now for some form of intimacy to make up for the turmoil swirling within you throughout the latter half of the day, the last thing you wanted to do was get back together with someone that felt the need to dictate your every move and action.

"You're the one that kicked me out, Zack," you said once he finally gave you a chance to speak.

"Well, now I'm inviting you back in."

"What if I don't want to?" you responded, feeling your anxiety kicking in. Zack hadn't even done anything yet, but your instincts immediately dumped all of the reactions that constituted being anxious onto you.

"What the fuck do you mean you 'don't want to'?" Zack asked, scowling at you, the anger beginning to creep into his voice.

You took a deep breath, clenching your fist that was resting on your lap to maintain your resolve.

"I said what I said. You kicked me out and I'm over it."

At this point, Zack had fully realized that he can't control you anymore, which further irritated him.

"Whatever," he said, waving you off. "Just take your shit and leave."

"Gladly," you responded coldly as you began to get up.

"I'm not driving you."

You stopped and looked back at him. You weren't that surprised by his comment, but you still felt a little off-put by his lack of remorse to just leave you stranded again.

"The buses around here aren't running this late."

"Sounds like a you problem."

You remembered this. If Zack got pissed at you and didn't get what he wanted from you, then no one was getting anything at all.

"You really expect me to walk?"

He shrugged.

"Or sleep on the streets until the buses are up. I don't really give a shit."

You felt your anxiety quickly turn into anger and frustration as you felt the corners of your eyes heat up. The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of the person responsible for all of your recent misfortunes, but what was currently happening was representative of all the bullshit that you had to deal with for three years.

"Fine," you said quietly as you headed for the door, not even bothering to grab your stuff from him. "You're a dick."

As you walked out the door, you felt your breathing quickly destabilizing.

Recently, the only person you had been regularly referring to as a dick was your grumpy roommate. However, after having this interaction with Zack, you realized that Zack was actually a dick and that Levi was nowhere close to it. It brought up a slight sense of guilt regarding your hostility towards your roommate. You would choose living with Levi over moving back in with Zack any day.

Reminiscing about your attitude towards your roommate immediately reminded you of him, and although you were still mad at him for his behavior earlier, you knew that you could at least trust him to not leave you stranded.

As a result, you immediately pulled out your phone and shot him a quick text, asking if he could pick you up as you continued to navigate your way out of Zack's apartment complex.

~~~~~

The rain had already started pouring. There wasn't too much wind, but the rainfall was heavy, which would have made it even more impossible to walk home if you were forced into that decision. Instead, you were waiting for Levi to arrive, seeking shelter under the canopy of Zack's apartment building to stay dry.

You glanced up as you heard the front door open and saw that Zack came downstairs with the box of your belongings with the intention of tossing it all into the dumpster. You watched as all of your former stuff disappeared into the green container of garbage.

When Zack saw you on his way back, he scowled at you.

"When I said sleep on the streets, I didn't mean here. Fuck off."

"You fuck off," you replied, matching his scowl.

The two of you held a staring contest for a few minutes until you heard a car drive up out of the corner of your eye. A feeling of relief washed over you once you saw that it was Levi's. You could finally go home and forget this nightmare.

He had arrived faster than expected, and part of you knew that this was likely due to a combination of the situation that had occurred in January and how far out you currently were. Plus, at this point, he was probably more than ready to expect texts from you to ask him to pick you up. It had become a pattern, although you weren't entirely sure how you felt about that fact.

You did not include in your text message the reasoning as to why you were trapped at an apartment that was a 20-minute drive from campus, so you weren't too surprised when you saw a look of concern on Levi's face as he saw you scowling at who he was able to deduce as your ex-boyfriend.

"You'd really call anyone to pick you up, huh?" Zack said to you as you began to walk off. "You're fucking pathetic."

If you were the same person that you were when you were with him, then his insult might have had some merit. If this was a year ago, you really wouldn't have had anyone to call. You didn't have any reliable friends back then, and that's likely what Zack still believed to be the case now.

"He's my roommate, you asshole," you said as you grit your teeth, "and a much better one than you ever were."

Your last comment must have made something snap within Zack's psyche, as he immediately grabbed onto your wrist before you were able to walk further towards Levi's car.

In the split second before you were forced to turn around to face Zack, you were able to see Levi's face transition from one of confusion to one of immediate concern as he began to move out of the car to see what was going on.

"What, I leave you for less than a year and you're already hoeing around with other men?" Zack scolded. "Why the fuck would you get a male roommate? Did you do this shit-"

"Just leave me alone, Zack!" you yelled back at him as you yanked your wrist back from him.

"You're fucking pathetic, _____. I'm giving you maybe another two weeks before you come crawling-"

"Do you ever shut up?" a third voice said.

You looked up and saw that Levi had walked over from the car after seeing the commotion. He held an irritated look on his face that was directed towards your ex-boyfriend, able to fully deduce the context of what was going on.

Zack was caught off-guard by your roommate coming out of the car to come to your defense. He was almost half a foot taller than Levi, but Levi's commanding presence took up all the space between them, making it so that it took Zack a few seconds longer than usual to come up with a retort.

Levi rolled his eyes at him as he turned to follow you after you began to storm towards the car, not paying particular attention to Zack, who had begun to open his mouth to speak again.

Any word that came out of his mouth was unheard, although you couldn't tell if that was due to your own thoughts overwhelming you or if it was because of the rain and wind that was rapidly picking up into a full-fledged storm.

Once you finally got into the car and shut the door, you buried your face in your hands as the tears finally flowed out from your eyes and down your cheeks, eventually collecting in the palms of your hands, only adding onto the chaotic whirl of thoughts that were running rampant in your head.

~~~~~

Levi remained silent as you continued to sob quietly in the passenger's seat, giving you time and space to process whatever the hell just happened.

You peeked through your fingers as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. With how frequently it was vibrating, you were already able to tell that it was Zack spamming you with text messages.

You glanced at your phone, opening the texts, although you were barely able to see with your tears clouding your vision. You vaguely saw a string of text messages of Zack calling you pathetic, a burden, a waste of three years of his life, and everything in-between. You clenched at your phone as you felt more tears gathering up in your eyes and you shakily navigated to his contact information to block him before tossing your phone into the back seat of the car.

After a few more minutes, you felt your breathing stabilize and you rubbed at your now-swollen eyes.

"I assume that's your shitty ex?" Levi finally spoke, breaking the silence between the two of you.

"Wonder how you figured that out," you grumbled with a sniffle.

"Tch," Levi said as he clenched his jaw, more than a little annoyed with the attitude that was attached to that response. "Why'd you have to choose the one night that I have to work an extra shift to pull this shit? How the fuck does you 'getting some air' translate into this?"

While Levi's grumpy attitude and snarky remarks were something you were usually used to and barely fazed by, given the fact that you were already really emotional and vulnerable from what had just happened with Zack made Levi berating you hurt much more than usual.

"I'm sorry, okay?!" you yelled out. "I didn't know who else to call. You could've said no."

Levi glanced at you for a moment. He found himself getting increasingly annoyed.

That wasn't the point. He wasn't annoyed because he had to come out to get you. That was the least of his concerns. What had concerned him more was what could have happened if he didn't come to get you. What annoyed him the most was how reckless you were and how you were never able to see that.

"Why did you even go to see him anyway? You said he's your ex? The one that was dragging you around all over the place and-"

"I don't know, okay?!" you yelled out again, feeling increasingly frustrated with every word that was coming out of Levi's mouth. "He just texted me and said we needed to talk and as usual I was dumb enough to listen to him. I don't even know what the hell I was looking for. The minute I got into his car, I was able to tell that he wanted to do something along the lines of getting back together and I was enough of an idiot to believe even for a second that it was genuine—and then I saw how pissed he got when I said no and he kicked me out all over again and I'm always, always, always making these stupid decisions and it's probably just a burden on everyone around me: Zack, you, my aunt—hell, probably even Petra and Oluo and-"

"Cut that out," Levi said in an attempt to cut off your rambling.

"-and my aunt was probably right in that I'm literally wasting my life getting a degree in something that might not even get me a guaranteed job. Literally every single decision I have ever made in my entire life has been a fucking disaster and I bet you can't fucking wait to get rid of me once summer arrives, because I'd be wanting to get rid of me, too! And-"

"God dammit, cut that shit out, _____!"

The storm was pouring down on you full-force at this rate, almost as if it was mirroring how volatile your emotions were.

As soon as Levi snapped at you, you clenched your fists, nearly trembling with rage.

After a few seconds of saying nothing, you decided you had enough. You immediately went to undo your seatbelt, fumbling around a bit more than usual due to the shaking that you couldn't seem to control.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Levi asked as he noticed your movements.

His eyes widened and he had to slam down on the brake pedal as he noticed you open the door to the car as he was still driving.

Luckily, he wasn't going very fast in the first place due to the storm, but you still ended up stumbling out of the car, nearly falling straight down onto the soaked concrete.

He slowly came to a stop right next to you, leaning towards the passenger seat as the door still hung open.

You shot him a glare before turning around and beginning to walk away.

"Where the hell are you going in the middle of this storm?"

You stopped walking and clenched your fists as you faced him again.

"Anywhere but here!" you shouted. "I'm sorry I made you come out all this way. I'll find a cheap motel to stay at or something if I'm really that much of a bother to you right now."

You turned towards no direction in particular and began walking again.

"_____, come back."

You glared at him again.

"So you can just berate me again? Fuck off."

You continued walking.

"You're such a dumbass."

You halted in your footsteps as he blatantly insulted you again.

"Excuse me?"

"I said what I said," he said, frowning at you. "Did you really think I'd come out all this way if I didn't want to?"

You matched his frown.

"Well, it sure sounds like it with how pissed you sound."

"Because you piss me off."

You threw your hands up in frustration.

"Then why the fuck are you still here?!"

Levi let out an exasperated sigh.

"Yeah, I'm pissed beyond belief and I'm still here. Now get the fuck back in the car before you get all soaked and make a mess all over the seat."

You glared at him for a few more seconds before mumbling a "fine" and reluctantly getting back into the car.

He drove in silence for a bit, bewildered at the fact that you almost ran off into the middle of nowhere during a raging storm without your phone. If that wasn't the definition of reckless, then he didn't know what was.

"You didn't have to come out just to pick me up," you mumbled again. "I know I texted you, but that doesn't mean shit."

"Tch, did you not hear me?" he said, slightly shaking his head at your repeated commentary. "I came because I wanted to."

He glanced at you before speaking up again.

"Get over yourself, you didn't force me to do shit."

His grip on the wheel tightened as he looked back towards the road.

"You're not special."

He heard your breath hitch at that last comment and his finger tapped on the wheel gently as he felt a very subtle hint of guilt creeping up in the back of his mind.

You're not special.

That thought kept running through your mind. You knew that you weren't special. The chaos that was your life was pretty indicative of that. Yet, why did it hurt so much when it was him that said it?

You finally opened your mouth to speak again. Your voice was quiet, as if you had given up on fighting against that comment. You'd accepted it, whether you wanted to or not.

"Then why the fuck are you so pissed off?"

It took Levi a moment to figure out the best way to respond as he continued to glare at the road.

"I'm pissed because you're always putting yourself in these situations without thinking for yourself. You're always going alone to get shit-faced at a party or staying out late enough that you're forced to walk home, or getting into shitty situations with shitty people."

You didn't respond, trying to figure out how to interpret his words.

"I'm pissed because you keep putting yourself in danger."

Ah, you thought as you came to a conclusion over what he was trying to say. He was saying that you were too dumb or naïve to take care of yourself.

Whether that was actually true or not didn't matter to you—that's what was going through your head. No matter what Levi was actually trying to say, you had now settled on the idea that you were nothing more than a nuisance to him and that he felt some weird sense of responsibility for you. Similar to everyone else in your life, you were nothing but a burden to him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Levi slightly looked over at you, noting that you were getting caught up in your head from the events of today. He knew that he was at least partially responsible, yet he still never imagined that he'd find himself in this type of situation again. He was used to picking you up from random places at this point. He was fine with that. However, picking you up from your ex-boyfriend's in the middle of what could be interpreted as a violent confrontation was not something that he was expecting to have to deal with.

By the time you got home, you were shivering from standing out in the rain. Levi had given you his jacket to wear and it hung off of your shoulders as you got up out of the car. It had provided you some warmth, but your shivering wasn't going to resolve itself if you didn't change into some dry clothes.

As you walked from the parking lot into the lobby of your apartment, you saw Levi pass you your phone, having completely forgotten that you tossed it to the backseat of the car after blocking Zack. You mumbled a quiet thanks as you put it into your pocket.

The two of you walked into your apartment and you noticed that literally nothing had been moved since earlier in the afternoon. All the stuff you were unpacking was left in place, despite the fact that the mess was likely driving Levi through the roof. You gripped on his jacket, an uncomfortable bubbling feeling rising up within you. It was just another inconvenience that you unintentionally threw onto him.

He flipped on the light switch, allowing you to properly see the mess that you had made. However, within the next 30 seconds, a crash of lightning lit up the room before all of the lights fell dark.

The power went out.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Levi groaned as he tossed his keys onto the table.

The night couldn't get much worse.

~~~~~

You let out an exhausted sigh as you slid down the wall across the hall from Levi. The two of you gathered next to the balcony doors for what little light peaked in through the blinds. It seemed that the power only went out for your apartment building and the street lights were still functional. There was a small candle lit in between the two of you.

You had stumbled into your room and changed into a hoodie and a pair of loose pajama shorts. You had your hands tucked into your hoodie pocket as you looked over towards Levi with a blank expression, unsure of how to process the events of the day.

He was sitting with his back leaning against the wall with his legs out in front of him as he matched your expression. The two of you were quiet for a bit, simply listening to the rain.

The entire room lit up as another flash of lightning cracked through the sky.

You felt yourself flinch and tense up at the sudden sound. You weren't particularly afraid of storms, but you were significantly on edge due to the events of the day. Every sudden movement or sound made your heart skip a beat. Your mind was on overdrive.

"How was your break?" Levi asked. He had noticed your reactions to the storm. Initiating conversation, no matter how frustrated he was at you currently, would at least provide you with a distraction.

You gave him a weird look before freezing up again due to another lightning crash. You rapidly shook your head to try to shake off the tension.

"It was okay," you finally replied. "Traveling was more annoying than the trip was enjoyable—honestly kinda wish I just stayed here."

Levi grunted at that last comment without acknowledging or dismissing it, which made you frown.

"Which I guess would've ruined your break. I assume you just spent the entire break reading and writing?"

"Something like that," he mumbled.

In all honesty, he probably would have also preferred it if you had stayed for break.

You pulled your knees up to your chest and hugged them, resting your chin on them. No matter how much you tried, you couldn't get the events of the day out of your head.

"Lev', can I ask you something?"

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If you really didn't mind coming out, then why were you so pissed off?"

He blinked at you, not really expecting the question to be brought up again.

"I already told you."

"I don't believe you," you said with a frown. There had to be more. What he said and what he did was too contradictory for you to just accept without getting more information.

Levi gave you an annoyed scowl and clenched his jaw. After a moment, he parted his lips to speak again.

"Why did you go back to him?"

"What?" you asked, not expecting him to deflect your question with another question.

Levi looked you straight in the eye. He couldn't wrap his head around why you would've ever been involved with someone like Zack. A few months ago, he wouldn't give a single shit, but now that he's had a few months of knowing you, he legitimately could not understand why.

"Answer the question."

"Answer mine first," you immediately responded.

He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Because you're always putting yourself in these shitty situations, _____," he said in an exasperated tone. "First, there was the thing with Floche, and now this. I can't even count the amount of times I've had to pick you up from somewhere and that's not even counting when I had to drive around the fucking city looking for you when you went out."

You fell silent, hugging your knees a bit tighter.

"I'm sorry I'm such a shitshow, Levi," you mumbled. "That shouldn't have to fall on you."

"Tch," Levi's eyebrows scrunched together into a frown. "Didn't I tell you to cut that shit out?"

"Cut what out?"

"Quit pitying yourself," he said as he leaned forward and gently flicked your forehead. "That's not what made me mad."

A pout appeared on your face as you rubbed at your forehead, although you finally began to understand what it was that he was trying to say. He was pissed that you kept finding yourself in these situations, but he never thought it was because you couldn't take care of yourself. You were more than capable of it, which is why he's pissed that you still found yourself in those situations.

"Your turn," he said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"What?"

"I answered your question," he nodded towards you, placing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Now you answer mine. Why did you go back to him?"

You looked down, away from him as you contemplated what it was that you wanted to say in response.

Levi could tell that the topic was another sore spot. You had reacted similarly during Halloween when Hange brought up the topic of your parents.

"He..." you started speaking before trailing off.

"He what?"

You buried your face in your knees, clenching your fists as you pulled up those turbulent memories. You were more emotionally vulnerable than ever.

"He made me feel good about myself when nothing else would," you said, your voice muffled. "My parents had just died, my friendships at school were falling apart because I couldn't keep my shit together, and he just gave me whatever I wanted as long as..."

You trailed off again before lifting yourself back up and looking towards Levi, without really making eye contact.

"...as long as I gave him what he wanted, too. As long as I just shut up and listened to him, as long as I wore the clothes he wanted me to wear and presented myself the way he wanted me to present."

You recalled that Zack didn't even really let you hang out with anyone outside of school when you were dating, which heavily contributed to why you were so confused about navigating everything on your own now.

Upon noticing Levi's lack of a response, you buried your face in your knees again as you felt the corners of your eyes heat up again from the tears building up.

"You probably think I'm pathetic, don't you?" you mumbled as your voice began to break up. The last thing you wanted to do was to start crying again, but the events of the day only added to any pre-existing thoughts of self-doubt and shame.

"Stupid? Yes," Levi began to speak. "Reckless? Yes. But pathetic?"

He paused as you looked up at him again.

"No, I don't."

You gave him a slight nod as you used the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe away any stray tears that were threatening to fall.

"You don't need that douchebag's approval—or anyone's approval, actually—to be worthy of love and respect, _____."

You felt your cheeks immediately begin to flush up at his statement. You were also able to see out of the corner of your eye that Levi began to awkwardly shuffle in place, as if he just realized what he had said.

"So quit pitying yourself like that. You're valued more than you think you are."

You pressed your chin into your knees and wrapped your arms around your knees in a way that hid your cheeks that were rapidly heating up. You've felt nothing but guilt and turmoil the entire night, but his comment made something else pop up deep within you. You didn't know how to describe it. You didn't know if it felt good or bad, but there was something there.

Levi watched as you struggled to navigate your own reaction to his comment. He tapped his finger against his leg as he held his hands in his pockets. He'd be lying if he said that there weren't also confusing feelings that were arising within him as well. He remembered pulling up to Zack's apartment and feeling slightly distressed upon seeing you with Zack—maybe even a little jealous, although he would never readily admit to that—before feeling incredibly panicked as soon as he saw Zack grab you.

He could no longer deny that you were not the shallow undergrad that he thought you were when he first met you in June. You weren't just a student dredging their way through college. Life had thrown misfortunes at you left and right and you were forced to try to navigate through that on your own. There was more to you than you had ever let on.

"Just promise me something," he finally said, waiting for you to look up at him. "Just, try not to get yourself into those situations again."

You looked down again, wondering if his intention was to tell you that he didn't have time to help you anymore when the time came to it. However, he didn't give you much of a chance to dwell on that thought.

"It'd be a shame for me to see something happen to you."

You immediately felt your cheeks flare up again. It was clear that he cared at least to some extent and that itself was enough to get you to question everything around you, including the nature of your relationship with him.

"Storm's over," Levi mumbled as he began to stand up. As he was pushing himself up off the ground, the lights flickered back on.

He held his hand out towards you and helped you get up off the ground.

"Go take a shower and get warm since you decided to casually run off into the rain earlier," he said, motioning towards the bathroom, letting go of your hand. "You were a pain in the ass the last time you got sick."

#: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @alexkibutsuji

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #modern!au levi #coffeeshop!au levi #college!au levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #levi fanfiction #fics: matcha

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eclectic-sassycoweyes · 4 months

Note

hi! for the character ask game: 9, 10, 21 for tk!

Hi!! Thank you!! (Character ask game)

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

Wow this genuinely a very good question.. hm🤔 well, even though TK is sometimes depicted as the opposite, I actually feel like he has his sh*t together way too much for us to be compatible roommates - I’d feel intimidated lol. At the same time, he is kind of chaotic and, we know he sometimes skips dinner and eats a 2 in the morning and can be very emotional.. and in those regards I’d feel like we’d compliment each other too well 😅 we’d end up eating dinner after 11pm ever day talk ourselves into a spiral about feelings.. and I have lived with a dear friend of mine before who were impulsive in her emotions and sometimes lashed out a bit as a reaction which I hc TK has the tendency to, and her emotions took up quite a lot of space, and while it didn’t damage our friendship that was very hard bc I’m the opposite, I hardly ever get annoyed and like to talk things out calmly and rationally lol.. and so when people lashes out at me it feels like a Big Thing and I don’t always handle that as well as I imagine Carlos would😊 so I guess we wouldn’t be the most compatible..? Or maybe it’s just because I’m picky with roommates atm and looking for at place of my own since I have literally not been alone for more than maybe a week in hours added together in the last year, (😭)and also I can’t imagine TK living with anyone but Carlos🥰 BUT! TK is such a genuinely good person who I like very much, so that counts, AND he’s a pretty good communicator, which I consider myself to be too so we’d make it work😌

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

I think this question would be answered with some of the same pros/cons listed above. Although it is sometimes easier to be best friends than rommies! Added to that, I think that TK is kind of drawn to people who are kind of steady, and are natural caregivers, in his close relationships. And while I am definitely caring and also the one of my friends who kind of analyzes and their chaotic situations and give them solid advice, the everyday caretaker role of like cooking food and reading other’s emotions and needs without having them explicated sometimes and stuff doesn’t come very natural me. I am unstructured, slightly chaotic and very reflective and bad at even making food for myself to be ready on the Correct Mealtimes hehe. But okay, considering Carlos fills out that role for TK, I guess pros are that we are both nerdy about and love animals (also the non-furry ones lol) and both like to go dancing and are open about things that many people might consider private, and have a thing for short sleeved shirts with cute patterns🥰

I guess again, I don’t see it as a perfect match, but we could definitely make it work! Some of my best friends are not friends who are perfect matches either but are best friends because I’ve known them for a very long time and fate brought us together lol, and they are the types, like me, to form close bonds with openness and vulnerability and you can be yourself, and I think TK can be the same way:)

Wow sorry for the long answers, those were difficult questions! I really went not only ‘hm how do I see TK as a roomie’ and ‘what make people compatible as best friends’ but also ‘who am I??’ lol

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I love writing and reading TK Strand shenanigans. Him being the biggest adventure of Carlos’ life. Just being slightly chaotic and menacing😌 Also TK being sexually open-minded and adventurous, and communicative. Hm. Something I’m aware of when both reading and writing TK is writing him as also insecure and somewhat inexperienced, in that I think he hasn’t felt comfortable sexually and romantically the way he does with Carlos. So I don’t like to depict him as some sort of savior of Carlos’ love life who knows all the answers. But I also don’t like to depict him as if nothing in his past has been good you know?

Also it’s important for me to make sure to depict TK as nuanced in terms of “masculine” and “feminine” (I really don’t like those words) traits. But like yeah, TK is slightly chaotic, his voice is lighter than Carlos’ and he dresses more colorfully and in light colors and is a bit more flamboyant and does the cutest little bouncy-shimmy and he is definely more in tune with his emotions. But he is also steady and badass af in a storm, he is Carlos’ rock, unfazed in emergencies involving sickness, gore and literal fire and explosions, he is strong, caring and hella competent, and he’s good at communicating (when he’s not too wound up and lashes out it runs off) but yeah. I love those nuances about him and it’s important for me to depict those, which can feel like a challenge to do it in a subtle show-don’t-tell way bc I’m such a beginner at writing!

TK’s past and present with addiction can also be difficult to write, mainly because people who struggle with it have a lot of different experiences, and it’s a subject surrounded still by a lot of stigma and I want to be sensitive about it without leaving out the hard and nitty-gritty parts.

I really gotta practice shorter answers, thank you for the asks, and thank you to anyone who have actually reached the bottom of this😅😅

#tk strand #mar answers #Rachel asks #ask games

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bunbeeplays · 1 year

Text

The Lemon Legacy, Chapter 2: Meet The Neighbors

Ophelia needs to gain the mischief skill so she can start swiping, and since the Welcome Wagon never came, she decides to introduce herself to the neighbors. Maybe some brownies will make them warm up to her so they'll be less annoyed by her shenanigans.

... too bad Ophelia's never baked a day in her life. Girly pop, don't look at me like that, you're the one making them!

Well, they're nothing special but surely they'll appreciate the gesture. Time to meet the BFF Household!

Ophelia: Here you go. They should still be fresh!

Summer: Brownies? Thank you, they... Oh. You used a premade mix, huh?

Ophelia: ...You can tell just by looking?

Summer: I should probably mention I'm in the culinary career. Thanks, though, I guess.

Well, that stings. Ophelia really did try her best with those brownies. She's the new neighbor, SHE should be the one getting baked goods anyway! Maybe she'll hit it off better with Summer's roommates...

At least Travis is nicer. He even made mushroom steaks, which Summer was quick to nom, lol

Travis: So you're the new entertainer at the Blue Velvet, right?

Ophelia: How'd you know?

Travis: We're no Windenburg, word travels fast in this little town. We'll have to see you perform!

After chatting (and Ophelia getting some mischievous interactions in), Liberty finally joins the group.

Liberty: I'm Liberty, but everyone calls me Libby. Thanks for the brownies, they smell great!

Well, these two check out. Travis and Libby's valuables are safe for now.

Ophelia tries to give herself a pep talk to convince herself to swipe something from Summer's room, but she just can't bring herself to do it... yet. She needs to start smaller...

Ophelia steps outside for some fresh air when she smells something... The mushroom steaks that Travis made, which Summer seemed to love. They were too busy goofing off inside, they've completely forgotten about them. Surely no one would notice...

When Ophelia rejoins them, she seems way more energetic than before. Travis chalks it up to getting over the nerves that come with meeting new people.

Ophelia: Thanks so much for being so welcoming! We'll all have to hang out again soon.

Travis: Yeah... I'd like that.

Travis and Ophelia are really hitting it off. They don't even notice Summer and Libby left the convo.

Summer: I know that face. I give it a week before he asks her out.

Libby: Oh. You think he likes her?

Summer: Travis likes any woman that pays attention to him.

Libby: Fair.

Ophelia says her goodbyes to the ladies and goes back to Travis.

Ophelia: I have to get ready for work but hopefully I'll see you guys soon.

Travis: You know where we live. *hugs*

Ophelia: Oh, you're a hugger, okay.

Libby goes back to her bedroom. No reason.

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #The Sims 4 Legacy #The Lemon Legacy #TS4 #The Sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 #ophelia #travis #summer #libby #generation 1

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thru-the-grapevine · 2 years

Text

Tangled-Up Knots

Characters: Kim Sunwoo, Choi Chanhee/New

Summary: Making his roommate a Christmas present good enough to apologize for all his shenanigans from the rest of the year turns out to be harder than Sunwoo thought.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags: idiot best friend roommates, fluff, humor, college au

Author’s Note: this is a little late for the holidays but ! Happy late holidays!

This was the stupidest looking heap of tangled knots Kim Sunwoo had ever seen.

He tilted his handiwork side to side, nose wrinkling in disgust at himself. You can’t give this to someone. Not unless they’re your enemy.

Which, granted, people often wondered whether Chanhee was his enemy. Even Chanhee. Which wasn’t Sunwoo’s fault at all, not even a little bit. Sunwoo merely liked to prank Chanhee out of fun and friendly affection. Constantly. Nonstop, one might say. With no explanation at all.

Okay, maybe that could easily be construed as enemy behavior.

But it was December, and Sunwoo always started to feel bad about things like that around the holidays. He blamed it on the constant presence of the Hallmark Christmas movies Chanhee liked to watch (and insist he didn’t like watching whilst refusing to let Sunwoo change the channel, holding the remote away from him in a death grip). People were always insufferable and trying to do right by everyone in those movies, in “the spirit of Christmas”. Disgusting.

But Sunwoo was a sucker with a conscience, no matter what everyone else thought. And the disgusting goodwill in the Hallmark movies would be nice of him to try, especially since Chanhee put up with Sunwoo practically nonstop as a roommate.

The deal was sealed when a gift labeled “Sunwoo” appeared under the mini Christmas tree in their living room. After all of Sunwoo’s constant torture, Chanhee had still gotten him a gift. Thus began Sunwoo’s quest for a “sorry I’m an asshole friend” gift that might make up for at least some of his worse hijinks. Sunwoo’s one unnecessary stipulation for himself was it had to be made, not bought. That was the “spirit of Christmas” part. Simple, surely.

The first attempt was a painting. In retrospect, it had felt a little too easy to Sunwoo, since it was from a wine and painting night their friend Kevin had gotten him into for free. It had been fun, to his surprise, and had made him feel a bit guilty for all the times he’d made fun of Chanhee for enjoying them. And it must’ve been too much to ask to have fun while making the gift, because once Kevin got a look at Sunwoo’s painting he’d laughed so hard he’d fallen out of his seat. And if Kevin had laughed, then Chanhee most certainly would.

So the painting was out.

His second attempt was a batch of cookies Sunwoo knew Chanhee liked. In retrospect, the recipe was a little too ambitious for a baker like Sunwoo, the kind of person whose name didn’t belong in the same sentence as the word “baker”. But in his defense, there were instructions; it shouldn’t have been hard to follow step-by-step instructions and get results. Except when he’d been too proud to ask Chanhee the difference between the different measuring cups and spoons, or how cold “chilled” was, or why the self-cleaning option on the oven was on the same knob as the rest of the temperatures. Frankly, it’d been a miracle Sunwoo had convinced Chanhee not to call the fire department and to just let their apartment air out.

“What the hell were you trying to do?” Chanhee had asked through the haze of smoke in the kitchen.

“Annoy you,” Sunwoo had said in a panic to not ruin the surprise, and Chanhee had smacked him upside the head.

So the cookies were out, too.

By the third attempt, Sunwoo was rapidly running out of time. The holidays were only a handful of days away, and both he and Chanhee would be leaving the apartment to celebrate with their families. He had to have it done and ready before they left, or it wouldn’t count. Not according to Christmas spirit.

He’d wracked his brains trying to think of something whilst un-booby-trapping the apartment (a demand made by Chanhee after realizing Sunwoo had managed to reverse the shower knobs as a joke). He couldn’t make him a song, since they liked completely different types of music; how many times had Sunwoo been working on a rap verse only for Chanhee to bang on his bedroom wall and shout at him to keep it down?

This is all his fault, Sunwoo had griped to himself as he opened Chanhee’s closet and dug out the hidden fog machine he’d planted. If he wasn’t so nice all the time….if he wasn’t so thoughtful….if he wasn’t so easy to bother….

He’d found himself glaring at a crocheted dragon on Chanhee’s desk when it came to him. Hey. In a surprising twist, Sunwoo knew how to crochet. He’d learned in an arts and crafts course Chanhee had dragged him along to last semester. It was surprisingly easy and relaxing to do.

He probably couldn’t do an animal like the dragon; that was probably too out of his league. But on god, Sunwoo could make a scarf. Chanhee had been complaining about the cold lately…

Maybe I have some yarn left over from the class. Sunwoo had lugged the fog machine back to his room and done some digging. He hadn’t found yarn, but he had found an old craft store gift card he’d been meaning to gift to his mother for her birthday last year. Sorry, Mom. Chanhee needs it more than you do.

By the next day, Sunwoo had procured several skeins of festive-colored yarn and had dug his old crochet hook out of a desk drawer, and had gotten to work. His friend, Hyunjae, had smirked at him when Sunwoo pulled it from his backpack during lectures, but Sunwoo had ignored this in dignified silence. This was gearing up to be one hell of a scarf; Sunwoo could do the stitches fast, and he even decided to get fancy and swap back and forth between colors.

He’d been so engrossed in his work for the past several days that he hadn’t stopped to check how the entire thing looked. By the time Sunwoo cast off the last stitch, most of the skeins he’d bought were gone. But that’s okay. Sometimes scarves just use a lot of yarn.

Well. Sunwoo realized his mistake that afternoon, when he came home early to wrap the gift and put it under the tree before Chanhee got home from classes. It could have been a bit out of a three stooges scene, Sunwoo pulling and pulling and pulling yard after yard of knobbly scarf out of his backpack. By the time the entire thing came free, the pile of scarf was large enough to completely obscure the toaster oven it sat in front of on the kitchen counter.

“What the hell,” Sunwoo muttered to himself, digging through it and trying to figure out what to do. How long were scarves normally? Maybe he could cut it at some point? No, he couldn’t cut it or the entire thing would unravel. It already looked a little tenuous as it was; Sunwoo had opted for speed over precision.

Sunwoo rubbed a hand over his eyes, hard. This was God punishing him for being a jerk all the time, surely. The moment he’d actually tried to do something nice…

Sunwoo jumped as the door to the apartment clattered open.

“I am cold and I am tired and I am starving!”

Sunwoo leapt in front of the pile of scarf as Chanhee trudged into view, haphazardly kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his coat.

“I need a bottle of wine and some takeout and maybe a Hallmark movie and I don’t want to hear a single complaint about it or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“Mmm,” Sunwoo managed out as Chanhee opened the fridge door and slumped against it, scouring the contents within.

“I swear to god my professor is trying to kill me. She wants me to review three of the students’ final projects for that intro class I’m TA-ing. Three! The projects are supposed to be all her thing, I’m only supposed to be her homework lackey. What do I look like, someone with a form and analysis Ph.D?”

Sunwoo knew a loaded question when he heard one. “Long day?”

“You have no idea,” Chanhee mumbled. He pulled wine out of the fridge and promptly yelled, losing his grip on the bottle.

Sunwoo dived across the kitchen and caught the loose bottle. “Whoa.”

Chanhee smacked Sunwoo’s arm. “Yah! Didn’t I tell you to de-booby-trap the apartment?”

“I did, I did…” Sunwoo spluttered, trailing off as he caught sight of a few rubber snakes on a shelf in the fridge. “…oh, yeah. Forgot about those.”

Chanhee scoffed and took the bottle out of Sunwoo’s hands. “Idiot. Get rid of them, please. Nearly cost me a bottle of cab sauv.”

“Yeah, a whole seven bucks,” Sunwoo muttered, digging around on the shelf and grabbing all the snakes.

“What’s this, then?”

Sunwoo whirled around to see Chanhee standing next to the scarf pile, looking at it as he uncorked the wine.

“Nothing! It’s nothing!” Sunwoo scrambled to close the fridge, losing the handful of rubber snakes in the process. He huffed in frustration and crouched down to grab them again, tossing them in the trash bin.

“It’s certainly a whole lot of nothing.”

Sunwoo fought a wince as Chanhee picked up one end of the scarf between his thumb and forefinger, staring curiously. Oh, god. He was going to have to explain this mess. He was going to have to say with his mouth that he’d tried to make Chanhee a gift and failed, that this was the most recent in a long line of failures, and that it was all an attempt to apologize for being an ass all the time, and this was embarrassing, he didn’t know how to make things, he should have just bought some stupid thing instead, he should have just not been an asshole, why was he like this, why couldn’t he just be a normal, nice person, and Sunwoo hated this, actually, he couldn’t bear it. It was too much for one man, even a jerk like him.

Chanhee cleared his throat, and Sunwoo snapped back to attention.

Sunwoo cleared his throat. “Oh, um. Right. It’s….well, it’s a….”

Chanhee studied the scarf again as Sunwoo stammered, then hummed in recognition.

“Ooo. It’s perfect. Where did you find it?”

Sunwoo stopped scrambling, confused.

“I, uh….I made it. Wait, perfect for what?”

“You made this?” Chanhee raised his eyebrows, looking at the scarf with new eyes. “I didn’t know you knitted.”

“Crocheted, actually. Chanhee, I—”

“This is damn good for you making it. I’m actually impressed.”

Sunwoo snapped his mouth shut, blinking. This…was not right. Something about this wasn’t right.

Before he could take the scarf back and explain or apologize, Chanhee scooped the whole thing up and walked into the living room. “Help me with it?”

“I…uh.” Sunwoo stumbled after him, lost.

Chanhee sat on the floor by the hearth and handed Sunwoo one end. “Here.”

Sunwoo took it slowly, unsure what the hell needed to happen next. Was he supposed to…drape it over Chanhee’s shoulder…?

He blinked as Chanhee straightened out a considerable length of it and tucked it into the lower branches of their little Christmas tree.

“What are you, uhm…” Sunwoo trailed off as Chanhee scooted a couple feet to the right, picking up more of the scarf length and continuing to tuck it in.

Chanhee looked up at Sunwoo with a raised eyebrow. “What, are you going to tell me you’re the angel on top of the tree that holds the other end?”

“I…I’m…” Sunwoo blinked stupidly and looked from the tree, to Chanhee, back and forth.

Chanhee sighed, laughing in exasperation. “Hang up the garland, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo raised his eyebrows. “The…the gar—” Oh. Oh. Well, that…made sense. That was a far more reasonable conclusion to draw about Sunwoo’s disaster knots than “scarf”.

…He should correct him. This was far kinder than Sunwoo’s sad, sorry, knobbly, thirty foot scarf deserved. Much kinder than what Sunwoo himself deserved.

Chanhee looked at Sunwoo curiously. “Why did you make a garland, anyway?”

Sunwoo opened his mouth, shut it, then repeated the process a few more times. “I, um….”

Chanhee cocked his head, and Sunwoo sighed.

“It….it was supposed to be a gift. For you.”

Chanhee blinked. “A…gift?”

Sunwoo couldn’t look at him anymore; he was too embarrassed. “Yeah. I hadn’t gotten to wrap it yet.”

There was a long silence, the rustling of the mini pine tree’s branches the only sound in the room as the two continued to put up the garland.

“You got me a gift? You made me something?”

“Well, yeah, it’s Christmas,” Sunwoo said, as though it was obvious. “And you’re my best friend. I can’t just not get you something.”

Sunwoo glanced at Chanhee and wished he hadn’t when he caught the touched look on his roommate’s face.

“That’s….so nice.”

Sunwoo groaned. “Come on, man, this isn’t a crying kinda thing.”

“Shut up,” Chanhee sniffled. “You’re just….you’re you, all the time, you know, the snakes in the fridge kind of guy, and then you do something like this—”

“It was supposed to be a scarf!” Sunwoo cried. “Okay? A scarf! Not a garland!”

“Don’t you dare badmouth my garland that you made for me!”

Sunwoo groaned. “You can do so much better. I can do so much better than that. This isn’t a bar you want to set.”

“I didn’t set it, you did,” Chanhee sniffed, wiping and eye and then staring in disgust at his hand. “Ew. The tree’s leaking sap, I think.”

“A lovely addition to your garland,” Sunwoo muttered as Chanhee stood up and moved to the kitchen.

“Shut up, you made it for me and it’s a perfect garland and I love it, wasn’t that the goal?”

Sunwoo pursed his lips. “…just feels like I’m getting off too easy.”

Chanhee looked like he was biting back a smile as he made his way to the sink. “Well….it’s Christmas. I can let you off easy, just the once.”

Sunwoo was reminded, for what must have been the millionth time, how astronomically lucky he was to have a friend like his roommate.

Chanhee turned on the sink and immediately yelped, water spraying him directly in the chest. Fumbling around frantically, water going everywhere, Chanhee reached for the faucet knob and shut it back off.

Sunwoo stood frozen, staring in surprise. Oh, shit. Right. “I, uh…I forgot about the rubber band on the sprayer head. Um, sorry…”

Chanhee stood there for a long moment, entire front soaked, before turning to Sunwoo.

“I change my mind. You’re buying our takeout tonight. And extra dumplings. I’m not sharing.”

“I….” Sunwoo rubbed the back of his neck. “….Yeah. Totally fair.”

“And lunch tomorrow.”

“Done.”

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nottadog · 1 year

Note

What's some inconveniences of living with your muse?

The biggest issue with living with Pup is that his living situation is fixed. He can leave his home and forest, but not for extended periods of time. He HAS to live pretty much right where he's already living. This means anyone who would want to live with him would need to be able to deal with not having ready access to a lot of amenities or people.

It's easily a 3-5 mile walk to get anywhere. The upside is once you learn how things work, you can go pretty much ANYWHERE, so this can be ignored if that walking isn't an issue.

This isn't even to mention that there are a bunch of monsters that live in the woods around him. He can sense where they are, most anyone else would not have that luxury.

But if we were to remove him from survival type scenario and just consider him as a roommate in more normal life, he's a little more useless. He would be another mouth to feed and doesn't have an easy way to participate outside of his survival skills. I mean he's a kid so he really shouldn't be doing that anyway, but 'you'll be taking care of a kid' is a pretty beefy downside.

He's also a lot less mature than he should be when it comes to worldly knowledge. He's had no schooling, can't read, doesn't know most things about life in a society. He also hasn't interacted with nearly as many people as your average kid would at his age and he hasn't grown up with any parental figures.

Because of this, it would probably feel like dealing with a toddler sometimes. You'd need to be able to have patience with him or he'd be very annoying. He's absolutely got an open mind for learning and would take to things fast, but you'd be dealing with Pup's shenanigans for a while.

Like, if you showed him what a thermostat does without thinking, he'd absolutely just set it to whatever he wanted at a moment with no regard for the cost of it because he doesn't really understand there's a huge cost associated.

#dm whispers: ooc #deep lore: worldbuilding #long post

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chipper-smol · 2 years

Photo

made a handful of lmk posts and I already have an AU? that tracks

what if Macaque became stuck as Sun Wukong’s literal shadow, essentially making the worst pair of roommates you’ve ever seen?

Extra Bonus:

#lego monkie kid #lmk #sun wukong #six eared acaque #Re-boundAU #myart #fanart #ive drawn like an introductory image like thREE TIMES #took a break on one and then went like 'OOH but what if i did it from this angle?'#did that twice #anyway #get ready for annoying roommate shenanigans #I like the shadowpeach ship but the way I ship shadowpeach is #sfnfsfng I ship them like annoying roommates #so this'll hopefully be fun for both parts of the fandom who enjoy and dont enjoy the ship #also if you cant tell im being super clean with my language so this actually shOWS UP IN THE TAG

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albel0ved · 3 years

Text

10 FAVORS I ASK OF YOU.

⚠️ WARNING⚠️; mentions of death and violence. (No beta we die like teppei)

Pairing; Xiao x ghost! Reader

AN; this was an impulsive decision and mostly self indulgent because i was craving some Xiao.

SUMMARY; when Xiao moves into his new apartment and meets something unexpected.

Xiao has had enough of his roommates shenanigans.

Always partying, drinking, and bringing home random strangers from clubs, and throwing trash everywhere, it disturbed his peace so he tried voicing his concerns to his roommate but he was just ignored.

Clearly being polite definitely didn't work and being passive aggressive didn't go through their tough skull either.

So he decided to move out.

Hu Tao overheard his muttering about his roommates and suggested he should move in the apartment that was a few blocks away from campus.

At first Xiao was a bit skeptical of Hu Tao's offer, because of her reputation of being mischievous and being a prankster, but he quickly dismissed those thoughts, because he didn't really have another choice if he wanted to get away from the hell hole he lived in.

Turns out the place wasn't that bad.

The rent was cheap and the landlady was a nice old woman living with her cat.

The apartment itself looked a bit worn down, clearly hasn't been maintained in a while but still decent enough for a person to live in.

After a few weeks, Xiao finally settles down in his new apartment. He finally has his own personal space or should i say he finally has some peace and quiet. But after a few days, a new problem arises.

At first, he thought it was just normal occurrences like his pen suddenly goes missing, his erasers, papers or other common things on your daily life that disappear for no reason.

But it gets much more annoying when his shoes kept getting misplaced where he's sure he put it in the shoe rack,

and his clothes that he stored properly in his wardrobe are strewn carelessly around his room.

He just shakes his head in annoyance, and start to pick up the mess to clean it.

Most of these things were just insignificant problems, it's not like it actually hurt him or anything, but it sure was annoying.

He could tolerate it up to a certain point until one day he just couldn't take it anymore...

After a week being busy without taking a proper rest. Xiao finally arrived home. He put down his belongings on the couch and headed straight to his room to take a shower. After taking a long shower, he checks his phone (lol no one chatted him my boy is emo and has no friends /j) .

Its 7 pm, he hasn't had dinner yet. He goes to the kitchen and put his phone down on the counter.

He opens the fridge and looks for the almond tofu he bought a few days ago, it's gone? He cocked his head in confusion. Where did i put it then... Asking himself. He opens the cabinets and its not there either.

He's pretty sure he put it in the fridge no one else could've taken it, his face darkens unless it was-

A rustling noise breaks him out of his stupor. Xiao is a bit pissed(you sure that its a bit???) that someone stole his almond tofu and that he might have an idea who stole it. He shakes his head before he gets too distracted, he needs to find out who keeps messing with his things and why they do it.

Slowly following the source of the sound, making sure he's quiet so the thing or person making the noise isn't aware of his presence. The sound leads him to the living room, he can see a shadowy figure behind the couch. He can see that it's...

It's eating his tofu.

Angered.

Xiao picks up his bat (dont ask why its there), creeping towards the figure, and getting ready to swing.

It suddenly turned around surprised that he noticed them and Xiao is also surprised that it suddenly faced him so he accidentally swung his bat towards it (SIR EXCUSE ME YOU JUST COMMITED MURDERRJRJR???!????).

The plate smashed against the ground, and the almond tofu is splattered on the cold hard surface of the floor.

" AH FUCK!" You exclaim. "You could've hit me you moron!"

Xiao drops his bat, face slackened. He was sure he hit a person but- Why did the bat go through them???

You stand up and brush the nonexistent dust off your arms, but Xiao grabs them before you could walk away.

"You," A confused noise leaves your lips by being pulled back harshly.

" Who are you and what are you exactly?" Xiao asks, gritting teeth.

"Oh-! I'm y/n and I'm just passing through, hahaha.." you chuckle awkwardly, while scratching your cheek and look to the side to avoid looking guilty.

"and I'm a reeeally busy person, so i have to go now goodbye~" you try to run away but Xiao's grip on you tightens,

"I asked what you are not some bullshit excuse." He growls, amber eyes glowing dangerously.

"Ok ok, I'll explain!!" You exclaim, looking terrified because of what Xiao might do to you.

Xiao loosens his grip and drops you on the floor. You sigh for the rough treatment, so you sit up and start explaining,

"So basically i am what you call an apparition,"

Xiao raises his eyebrow and crosses his arms, unamused about what this idiot is talking about.

"I'm basically a spirit, a ghost, a poltergeist or whatchamacallit," you take a peak at him while playing with your hands.

"..."

"Could you please be a bit more responsive, you're a bit terrifying ya know!" You whine,

" So what you're saying is that..." He sighs, rubbing his fingers between his eyebrows, "You're a ghost" he points at you and you nod.

"Get out."

"huh?"

"I said get out!" Xiao yells his patience thinning,

You stand up facing Xiao as you put your hands on your waist and you huff "Look here Mr. Grumpy ass, I would love to do what you just said but I lived here first!"

"This place was literally empty before I moved in!"

" I lived here a few years before that, didn't you hear from the landlady that someone used to live here?"

"I couldn't care less, so I didn't ask."

" ugh, you're so annoying,"

"And you're pissing me off."

"tch, even if I wanted to leave this place, I can't."

" What do you mean you can't, Do you not know how to open a door?" He scoffs at you,"

You gape at him offended," OF COURSE I KNOW HOW TO OPEN A DOOR BUT THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT!" You try smacking him but he just scowls and swats your hand.

"What did you mean then?"

"I can't leave this apartment,"

" The door is right there, you said you could open it or just pass through it if you're feeling a bit transparent," Xiao motions towards the door

You roll your eyes, "I physically can. not. leave this place even if I liked it or not,"

"You literally don't have a body. "

" yeah I don't, but lets just say ghosts with grudges can't leave the place they were last in. "

" That makes me want to ask another question,"

"yeah ask away."

" How did I touch you earlier, If you're actually whatever you say you are explain how," He questions you, " Hmm... " You hum, mulling over his question for a few seconds,

"I actually have no idea."

He stares at you incredulously mentally saying seriously?? " I'm seriously not surprised that you're a dead person when you're like this."

You glare at him, "And you don't respect the dead, no wonder you have no friends."

" I don't need friends, especially if they see the 'thing' I'm living with." He scoffs,

"Yeah too bad, but this 'thing' is gonna be stuck with you for a loo~ng time." You stretch out your hands with the o.

"If you're gonna be here freeloading, then you better clean your mess up." He points at the broken table, the smashed plates and the floor tofu.

"nu uh, you literally did that mess when you saw me peacefully eating there" you walk to the couch and plop on it.

"you were eating my almond tofu you dipshit how could I not get mad."

"just buy a new one its that easy"

That's how he got stuck with an another annoying roommate.

After the whole ordeal he just wanted to go to sleep, so he cleaned up the mess quickly and he went inside his room. He plops bed trying to forget everything that happened, and luckily he passes out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The next day, he woke up early but he didn't get up from his bed yet.

Checking his phone. Its 6am, he still has a few more hours before his classes start. He scrolls on his phone a bit more but his thoughts start drifting to what happened last night.

Or specifically a person, so he gets up and goes to the living room to check if they're still there. There's no one on the couch and the things are tidy as if nothing happened yesterday.

He shakes his head, it must've been hallucinating because he was so tired. So he starts getting ready for the day.

He walks towards the door, getting his keys and jacket. After making sure he's got everything he needs he puts his shoes on and walks outside the door.

On the way to the parking lot, he sees a familiar shadow but he ignores it, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him again. He hops on his motorcycle, driving to his campus.

It's lunch time but Xiao wasn't gonna eat again(bro you better eat to stay healthy, how r u gonna be my husband when you die of fatigue and starvation 😟😟😟😟).

He was staying in the almost empty library, sitting by the table on the back that was hidden by bookshelves so that its less likely that people could bother him.

Typing away on his laptop, trying to focus on his assignment so he doesn't think about what happened yesterday- but the chair in front of him suddenly scrapes from the floor, making him look up. There was no one in front of him and he looks around but there was no one there. Weird... He says in his thoughts.

He tries to go back to work , but before he could,

"What are you doing? Hmm?" You blow on his ears, while standing behind him.

Xiao yelps from surprise, his face reddens like a tomato because of the attack on his sensitive ears (haha do what you want with that info) , almost rupturing his ear by slapping it too hard. He looks up, seeing you the ghost from last night!

You grin devilishly, seeing Xiao's flustered face and chuckle a little because he was so cute.

"Urgh, it's you." He groans seeing you. He covers his face trying to calm himself down from the initial surprise.

"Yep! It's me your favorite ghost ever~" you hum happily

"More like the only ghost I know" he removes his hand and faces you.

"Yeah yeah you really know the ways to burst my bubble" you pout at him.

Seeing you here was something Xiao didn't expect and it didn't add up with the information he remembers from the incident last night.

"How are you here anyway," He narrows his gold eyes at you. "Didn't you say you could t get out of the apartment, even if you could why did you follow me?"

"oh~ i knew you'd ask about that." You sit on the table and cross your legs. " So basically, i can go outside when you go outside."

"So you were just lying to me yesterday."

"shush, I'm just getting to that part!" you out your finger on his lips. He smacks it away so you bring back your hand to your side.

"Here's the fun part! I can only follow you and can't go anywhere else 5 meters away from you."

"how exactly can you follow me outside," he sighs

"you ask a lot of questions you know! But you're in luck, because i love answering questions about me!" you put your hand on your chin making a thinking pose." if i had to guess, its probably because you're connected to apartment because you're its new owner."

"..." Xiao stays quiet, thinking about what you just said. You being a mischievous person, decide to tease him more.

"So what I'm saying is..." You hold his face pulling it closer to you, his eyes widening. while you lean down on him, breaths mingling. "You're my property now." You pull away and boop his nose.

Xiao is so flustered and his face is probably on fire. You giggle at his cute expression and decide to kiss his forehead to fluster him more.

Luckily he dodges your lips, covering your face with his callused hands (makes out with Xiao's hand 🥴🥴🥵🥵🥵), regaining his senses. "Why didn't you just stay back in the apartment then?"

" I've been stuck in that place for so many years, you expect me not to go outside for a walk?"

"What are you a fucking dog? You need someone to put you on a leash and take you out on a walk?" He jabs at you.

You frown at his statement and you both bicker back and forth until you got tired and just yelled.

"Fine!" You stomped " If you want me gone that bad then you have to do 10 things for me or else ill be bothering you for the rest of your boring mortal life! "

Xiao thinks about his options carefully, and reluctantly agrees because he just wants his peace and quiet.

"fine." Accepting defeat.

"really you'll agree to it?!" Your eyes sparkle with excitement.

"as long as you don't make me do something weird or else I'm kicking you out"

You clearly ignore the last thing he said. Hopping off the table so you could dance giddily around the table.

Xiao sighs worriedly 'what have I gotten myself into... '

AN; some things might not make sense and look very rushed because this is a 2 week old idk draft and i just tried writing most of it at 3am. Enjoy reading whatever this is im passing out good bye.

#xiao brainrot #xiao x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact #genshin xiao #xiao drabbles #xiao angst #genshin x reader #xiao headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin imagines #xiao imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xiao

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Caution

Corpse Husband & Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Dark Humor (Lighthearted)

Genre: Platonic Fluff, HUMOR, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: The shenanigans of the two best friends who’ve been roommates and have been spending way too much time together during quarantine.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it and write it but here it finally is! Hope you come across it even after all this time and give it a read - if so, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Why are you calling me when you’re literally down the hall?!“

“You didn’t hear me yelling and I really don’t want to interrupt whatever Satanic ritual you’re in the middle of performing.“

Valid excuse, or so Corpse thinks it is as he grins over the dining table which is set up for dinner - all be it very poorly but Y/N wouldn’t be able to do it any better which comforts him.

“You’ve already interrupted it.“ With that, she hangs up on him. A second or two later, the music that’s been blasting from her room subsides and she walks out in the hallway where Corpse has a clear view of her for the first time today.

“What animal were you sacrificing today, sweetie?“ He asks in a sing-song voice, mimicking a parent asking their child what they did at school that day.

Y/N sits down in her chair, not at all amused by his joke, narrowing her eyes at him, ready to fight sarcasm with sarcasm, “Animal sacrificing is reserved for Friday nights only, remember? On Sundays the sacrifice must be human.”

He sits down as well, twirling his fork in the bowl of noodles in front of him, “Aww, that’s too bad hun, you can’t really find a lot of people on the streets nowadays. However, if you’re thinking of breaking and entering I must say you’ll have to count me out.”

She smirks, “Why would I break into a stranger’s home when I am living with a rather annoying person myself.”

Corpse puts a hand over his heart, ‘offended’ by Y/N’s comment, “Oh come on now, it’s the season of giving dear! Can’t you give me another chance to be a good roommate.”

If she’s being honest, Corpse is a great roommate - best one she’s had or will ever have. A big element of them getting along so well is the long friendship they had even before moving in together. It might not seem like they are too fond of one another to an outsider. But someone who knows them well enough can guarantee the two would do anything for each other. Corpse is a pretty non-confrontational and quiet guy who does look intimidating but would never live up to it. However, if someone upsets Y/N, he’s no less dangerous than a pissed off lion. Y/N is similar - a small neutral and rather unopinionated bean. Very few things fly on her radar cause she’s so done with everything and everyone and has learned how to not allow anything to surprise or shock her. She doesn’t let many things offend her or bother her but mess with the guy who’s basically been her older brother for almost a decade now and - although the whole sacrificing and Satan worshiping thing is a joke - she’d gladly sacrifice you to the Under-lord without a second to consider it.

“Indeed it is the season of given, although early, but I’m still gonna give myself the gift of a new roommate.“ She replies nonchalantly, taking a bite of the noodles Corpse over-spiced for the shits and giggles of it.

He doesn’t reply, just hums in response as he cautiously watches her reaction to the flavor of her food. He’s even filled a glass of water for her and left it by her plate in case she needs it but as it seems she hasn’t even noticed the change in flavor.

“What have you been doing all day? I mean, I get you were working on a song - I had to play my own music to drown that shit out - but what came of it?“

He smiles, knowing full well she bops it full volume when he’s not home. He knows this cause he caught her in the act - it’s not a guess anymore, it’s a full-blown fact supported by not documented evidence which maybe wouldn’t stand in court but it’s enough for him to have some leverage and certainty when she’s being a dick about it.

“I finished the song. Posted it too.“ He shrugs as though it’s nothing. receiving a nod with the same amount of enthusiasm back from Y/N.

Regardless of the lack of reaction from both parties, they’re both thrilled.

“That’s great.“ She gives him a hint of a smile, “We gotta celebrate, no?“

Realizing they’re finally on the same wavelength, he nods with a smile and proceeds to get up and go to the kitchen to grab the red wine they’ve got for special occasions - or to cure breakups, either goes - and two wine glasses.

He pours them each a bit, knowing many refills will come, and the two clink their glasses, taking a sip before continuing to eat.

Well, Y/N continues to eat while Corpse spits out the bite he just took, appalled by the saltiness of it. “What the hell, Y/N?!”

She snorts and continues to eat while Corpse accepts defeat, realizing he should never leave her alone with his food ever again.

“You win this round...” He mumbles under his breath as he walks to the kitchen to boil himself a new bowl of noodles.

* * *

It’s been about three hours since the incident and Y/N’s gone back to her room once again to play Minecraft with some friends as she usually does in the evenings when she’s finished her homework for her college lectures.

She’s in the midst of betting with one of the friends who can build a better makeshift house in ten minutes or less when she gets a text from Corpse, asking to do the her dishes, aka the bowl her noodles were in and her utensils as well as glass of water she did end up taking a sip of while Corpse wasn’t looking - the spice really got to her at one point but she got it under control.

Figuring it’s the least she can do after basically ruining his dinner, she tells her friends she’ll be back shortly and mutes herself on the Discord call.

Upon walking out the door, however, she doesn’t really get far. Instead, she walks straight into the web of caution tape put on the outside of the door, stuck to the door frame.

Y/N does her best to not lash out as she ‘calmly’ tries to untangle herself from the stripes of caution tape that have wrapped themselves around her like snakes upon detaching from the door frame. Despite her tries, what ends up lighting the fuse of anger within her is the quiet laughter of her roommate coming from the living room.

“CORPSE!!!“ She screams in frustration which only fuels Corpse’s satisfaction, making his laughter louder. “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

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

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possiamo-andare · 3 years

Text

In Your Blood: JJ Maybank

JJ x Y/N

MASTERLIST

summary: JJ and Y/N go to visit John B in jail and while they're there, an officer makes a comment that hurts JJ. But, Y/N's there to comfort her boyfriend.

word count: 3.6k

a/n: THERE'S SPOILERS IN THIS FIC FROM SEASON 2. I'm not done yet but when I was watching episode 5 of season 2 I thought of this fic and couldn't help myself. Enjoy!

JJ was full of stupid ideas and lately, since Peterkin was shot dead by Rafe and John B had been on the run, those ideas were getting you in more trouble. Before all of this, before the new life you seemed to have, JJ’s bad ideas consisted of playing impractical and foolish jokes on Rafe and all the snot-nosed Kooks who deserved it. But now, these jokes were more dangerous and would involve you breaking the law. Like kidnapping Rafe and putting a gun in his mouth (a plan you had to talk JJ out of), or kidnapping Sheriff Shoupe (another bad idea). JJ even kept a gun in his waistband, as if he was ready for whatever was coming. It was quickly getting out of hand.

He said he had done all of this to protect you. You were his girl after all and wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. You had been through too much, been together too long, to let psychos like Rafe and Ward split you two up. But you knew it was more than that. John B and Pope were the closest thing to brother JJ had and he would do anything to help them. To save them. It just so happened that to save them, he would have to put his own life at risk.

But, like he always said, stupid things have good outcomes all the time. He had started saying that after you guys met, and he had been saying it ever since.

You guys met when JJ had been arrested for destroying Topper’s boat. At the time, he was only covering for Pope so his friend wouldn’t be arrested, but you didn’t know that. You had seen JJ many times when you volunteered at OBX’s police station and every time he saw you, he’d wink. You were a Kook and had heard not so flattering stories about JJ and his shenanigans so whenever he’d wink at you, you’d roll your eyes and continue cataloging.

But, on that fateful day, JJ was complaining in his cell more than usual. In an effort to piss Peterkin off more than usual, he had attempted to escape his cell by stealing Shoupe’s key. Unfortunately, that was a stupid idea and instead, JJ had to be taken to the infirmary to bandage a wound he had gotten when Shoupe discovered what he was trying to get away with. You were the only person on site that could treat the wound and since Peterkin knew JJ was not violent, she let you.

You remembered him saying something about how pretty your hair was and you remember yourself blushing as you got close to his face to treat his wound. Looking back, you probably fell in love with him then and there but, because of your social standings, you fought hard to not fall for him. To not feel something for the flirty blonde Pogue.

But none of that mattered anymore. You had been his girlfriend for a year now and you had been through everything together. You were there for him to mourn John B and Sarah and you were here for him now, trying to talk him out of another bad idea.

“JJ, if you get caught smuggling something to a prisoner,” You whisper-yell, leaning against the front desk of Kildare County Detention Centre. “You’ll be roommates with JB here.”

JJ looked to you, frowning softly. He had worn a tight, white shirt with just as tight jeans and looked so handsome, but you were too annoyed to focus on that. “Don’t call John B a prisoner. Makes it seem as if he’s guilty.”

Your glare softened. “I’m not saying he is, but he’s their prisoner and you know it.” You hated the cops in this town and simply addressing them in any way left a bad taste in your mouth.

JJ readjusted his signature snapback. “Darling, let me handle this.” JJ stroked your cheek softly, his knuckle wiping away the grime and dirt that had been left on your face. You had been so stressed with everything that was going on, you barely had time to care for your appearance. Not that JJ cared. He thought you looked beautiful all the time.

You rolled your eyes at the pet name he used. He rarely used it in public but when he did, you knew what it meant. I only trust you.

Before you could answer him, an officer entered through one of the doors to the left. He took down your names on the log sheet, growling as he discovered you were here to see John B. Not many people in this town liked John B now and those who did were treated horribly.

“Take off your hat and empty your pockets.” The officer commanded, watching the both of you carefully as you emptied your pockets and JJ took off his hat.

“Yes ma’am.” JJ replied, saluting the officer quickly before snickering softly. You couldn’t help yourself and you snickered along with him. You knew he was doing this to cheer you up and you reminded yourself to thank him afterwards.

The officer rolled his eyes but, after you had emptied your pockets and showed him you weren’t carrying anything illegal (at least you weren’t), he directed you to the waiting room where you’d finally be able to see John B.

As you followed the officer through a long hall, prisoners banged on the glass. They yelled at the both of you but some of the prisoners directed the most sexual obscenities at you. You reached out for JJ’s hand, and he gladly accepted it. He pulled you close to his side, kissing your forehead as he glared at the men who were yelling at you. Finally, you made it to the room where you’d soon be reunited with John B.

You and JJ waited for a few moments, sitting at one of the many tables. JJ’s hat was gone and waiting for him outside so now his unruly hair was out for the world to see. You reached up to comb it down, but he only dodged you, a sneaky grin on his lips.

“You know you like it when it’s messy.” He snickered, leaning down to kiss you.

You accepted his kiss and kissed his back, your hand still in his hair. “I only like it when I’m the one who messes it up.”

JJ’s eyes glimmer with excitement at all the ways he could get you to pull on his hair so it would be messy. Just the way you like it. “We’ll discuss it when that lady cop over there isn’t glaring at us.”

Your head turns 180 degrees, and you see as a brunette cop glares at you and JJ. When she notices you looking, she instantly hides. You snort, annoyed that you two were always being watched by cops. “How’d you know she was watching us?”

JJ smirked, kissing your jaw to get your attention. It worked because your head turned back to face him. “Just do. Just like I know that this plan will work.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he had to work that into the conversation. He knew how upset you were about what he was planning on doing but he also knew you’d never let him do it alone. That’s one of the many reasons he loved you; you would never let him tough it out alone.

Before you could respond though, there was a buzzing from the door on the other side of the room, signalling that a prison was being released into the same room as you and JJ. John B was coming.

Seconds later you saw him, in all his glory. This was the first time you had seen him since he had been arrested and he looked worse than you thought. His hair was more tangled than usual, and it looked as if he hadn’t slept in months. But you knew you’d be the same way, maybe even worse, if you were in his position.

No one spoke. John B made it across the room, and he sat down in front of you and JJ before any words were uttered. You watched JJ and John B, looking to see who would start the conversation. You were surprised to see them both smile at each other, laughing at the other without a single word being spoken. You slowly join in, laughing at how immature your boyfriend and friend are and soon, all of you have smiles on your faces. It was weird, you knew that, but it was comforting to know that John B had not lost his heart in this place.

“I thought it was gonna be me!” JJ spoke first, still giggling.

John B nodded, a small smile on his face. “I did too.”

You giggled, shrugging. “So did I.”

JJ winks at you. It’s not just a flirty wink, although it kinda is. He’s telling you something. Thanks for making me feel better.

The joke continues as John B speaks again. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

You and JJ continue to laugh, the joke still as funny as it was before. Maybe it was because you were so tired or because you had always had a dark sense of humour, but you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, trying to be serious but you could hear his teasing tone underneath. “When you said you had a new apartment, I had no idea.”

You smile, watching as John B looks around the cold and dark room. “Yeah, it’s a…”

“Cozy?” You add, finishing his sentence.

John B smiles at you. “Yeah.”

“A little aluminum theme.” JJ adds, patting the table that you all were sitting at.

John B nods. “Yeah. I like to go for the cold, dark …”

He trails off for a moment, but JJ continues. “Alone kinda theme.”

But John B isn’t done. “Depressing…”

You stop right in your tracks and so does JJ. This hurts you because you know he’s not joking anymore. You try and wrack your brain on what to say next, but JJ decides first.

“Look, I would like to sit and chitchat, but I’m on the clock. And I’m here for one reason only, okay?” He pauses for a moment to build suspense and you can’t help but roll your eyes because you know what he’s gonna say next. You heard him rehearsing this. “Operation Liberation.”

“Oh boy.” John B sighs, looking to you. “Here we go.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yup, just wait JB.”

“I know, I know.” JJ says, completely serious. He knows how done both you and John B are with his ideas, but he continues. “Hear me out.”

“He’s got a bunch of steps, JB. Just wait.” You tease, a small smirk forming on your lips.

JJ looks at you then back at John B, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Step one, piss off the cops so badly they don't see what's coming.” JJ looks behind him for a moment and waves at the woman cop who just rolls her eyes. Then he looks back at John B. “Check. Step two, at exactly 11pm this evening, you’re gonna have an attack of acute appendicitis.”

You and John B both frowns. Before you can ask, John B does. “Do you even know what appendicitis is?”

“Yeah.” JJ says matter-of-factly but you and John B are still not convinced so JJ continues. “Remember in eighth grade? Algebra final?”

You frown. You definitely don’t know what he’s talking about now. “What?”

JJ looks at you. “Faked appendicitis, baby. Just to get out of a test. Worked like a charm.”

“Jesus Christ.” John B muttered, his head in his hands. You could tell JJ might be overselling how well the trick actually worked.

“Now,” JJ continued. “To sell it, you gotta actually look sick, though, okay? You got some of that ghost face sunblock in here?”

You frowned. Did JJ really think prisons gave out sunblock to prisoners? “JJ,” You sighed. “It’s a prison. They probably only give him a bar of soap if he’s lucky.”

John B nodded to what you said, watching intently as JJ turned to you again. “She’s right.”

JJ smirked, giving you a quick kiss on the lips before turning back to John B. “Is it white.”

John B frowns, confused. To be honest, so were you. “Yeah?”

“That’ll work. Take some of that. Rub it into your face well, okay? You don’t want that shit rubbing off when they check your vitals. After that, you run your hands under cold water for five minutes. After that, you’re ready.” JJ said, but he wasn’t done. “Showtime, baby. Stumble out and collapse, okay?” JJ’s hands slam the table, as if John B was his hand. “Once you’re down on the ground squealing, they’ll rush you to the infirmary. There, you just gotta convince the nurse that that sucker’s about to burst. Okay? Then -”

You had just about heard enough. There was no way you could listen to any more of this. “He gets it, JJ.” You sigh and look at John B. “Basically fake appendicitis.”

John B scoffs. “Yeah, easy enough.” You think he’s gonna stop JJ. You think he’s gonna tell him to stop but instead he smirks. “Then what?”

You roll your eyes. These boys are gonna be the death of you. “Seriously?” You groan.

They both ignore your plea and instead, JJ continues. “They’re gonna eject you to the hospital. Remember cousin Ricky?”

You scowl. “The dude who smells like ass and was trying to kiss me during Thanksgiving?”

JJ nods, smirking at you for a moment. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

John B furrows his brow when JJ looks back to him. “Cousin Ricky, the weed dealer?”

“He’s an EMT.” JJ excitedly states.

“He’s an ass.” You state, rolling your eyes for what seems like the twentieth time.

“He sold us our first dime bag.” John B remembers, a small smile playing on his lips.

You scoff. “Of course, he did.”

JJ glances at you. “So? He can do both. Gig economy, baby.” While you swear under your breath, JJ continues, “okay, then step three. Extraction.”

John B looks up to JJ, no humour in his eyes. “This is the dumbest fucking idea you’ve ever had.”

JJ nods and so do you. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but you know what’s even more dumb? You think you have any other way out of this.”

“JJ,” You sigh. “This prison is a fortress. Do you think you can just stroll in here?”

“Thank you.” John B says, shaking his head. “JJ, they have barbed wire, cinder blocks, and guards on every corner.”

“I know.” JJ defends. “You’re not the detail guy so don’t worry. Leave it to the professionals.”

You want to yell at JJ. You want to say that he's not the professional either but instead, the lady cop calls out for you to both leave because time’s up and John B has to return to his cell. You both stand to leave but before you take even one step, JJ speaks again.

“You gotta trust me.”

You look at John B and you can tell he’s scared. But you also know he’s out of options and soon, he’ll be convicted for a crime he did not commit. You give John B a knowing look, as if to say that he shouldn’t worry and that you’ll take care of JJ. Because you will. Even though this might be a stupid idea, you’d back JJ up one hundred percent.

As you leave the waiting room and go out into the hallway, it’s much quieter. The prisoners that were there before are now outside in the yard. You can see them roughing it up and having fun through the window. Just as you pass the window though, JJ stops. Something has caught his through the window and when you go to check on him, it catches your eye too. It’s JJ’s dad. He has a basketball in his hands and is shoving some of the other inmates while he dribbles. He seems to be having fun, but you could never tell when it came to JJ’s dad. He was always so serious, a stark contrast to his bubbly son.

“JJ,” You whisper, trying to get his attention. He looks at you, a soft smile on his face. But you know the truth behind that smile. He is sad. “Let’s go.”

He nods and reaches out for your hand which you gladly take. His hand just feels so right against yours. You truly believe you guys were made for each other. But the lady officer, who you now know is named Officer Plumb, is annoyed with you and JJ, and shoves you forward. It causes you to trip over your own feet and, if it wasn’t for JJ’s strong grip, you would’ve hurt yourself.

Just as you both exit the detention centre; JJ turns to look at Plumb. “What’s your problem? Don’t hurt her.”

You want to smile at how protective he is over you but instead, you hold onto one of his arms, so he doesn’t lunge at Plumb. The last thing you need is to be visiting JJ here. “JJ, it’s fine.”

JJ doesn’t take his eyes off Plumb though. Even as you make your way down the steps of the centre and are met with the fresh air, JJ can’t let it go. He lets go of you for a moment and turns to face Plumb who is an arm’s length away.

“I just have one question before I leave. How much are you splitting with Shoupe?” JJ asks, a smirk on his lips.

This must anger Plumb because she furrows her brow and shoves JJ forward, causing him to stumble down some steps. Thankfully he’s holding onto the railing so he’s okay but once you get to the bottom of the steps, you wrap your arms around his stomach and hope he doesn’t retaliate at her.

Instead, surprisingly, JJ just wraps an arm around you and smirks up at the officer. “Ah, sorry. Did that hit a nerve?”

Officer Plumb scoffs. “You’ll be back here one day. It’s in your blood. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t drag her into it.”

You know she’s talking about you. It makes you so mad that you want to lunge at her yourself and hit her. But you can tell those words have hurt JJ and you care more about his feelings than your own petty revenge. Besides, Plumb will get hers one day.

As you both turn to leave, you can see JJ has gone quiet. His bike is only a few feet away, but you don’t want to get on just yet. You need to comfort him. So, you stop and although JJ doesn’t want to, he faces you. His arms are still wrapped around your waist, so you move your arms to wrap around his neck as you pull him into a bear hug.

“JJ don’t listen to her. Maybe if she wasn’t a corrupt piece of shit, she’d have some room to talk. But she doesn’t.” You say, your head buried in his chest. You wish you could see his face, but you know he needs a hug right now, so you continue to hug him.

“She’s right though. I’m bound to be here like my dad, and I shouldn’t drag you down with me.” JJ mumbles, his head buried in your neck.

You pull away only a little. Just enough to see his face. “JJ, all the decisions I have ever made are my own. I love you. Do you love me?”

JJ nods, tears pooling in his eyes. You swear, you’ll kill anyone who makes JJ cry. “I love you more than anything.”

You smile, your heart fluttering at his words. Even after all this time, he still makes you feel so special. “Then that’s the end of that. I don’t want the person I love the most walking around thinking he’s bad for me or that he’s gonna end up like someone he’s nothing like. You’re good, JJ. You are. Sure, you have stupid ideas, but what’s the thing you always say?”

JJ smiles. “Stupid things have good outcomes all the time.”

You nod. “The stupidest thing you ever did was get arrested but that’s how you met me. So, I have to believe that John B will be alright.”

JJ smiles. “I gotta kiss you now, darling.”

You smirk, leaning forward a touch so your lips could connect. And when they did, it sent electricity through your veins. No one kissed like JJ. Maybe it was because you loved him so much or because he was the kindest person you ever met but, every time you kissed, you felt yourself fall even more in love with him. Something you didn’t think was possible.

When you two finally broke away from the kiss, JJ was smirking again. “You think if we got back to John B’s house fast enough, we’d have enough time to mack before Kie and Pope get there?”

You smirked right back. You were so glad he was back to his flirty self. “I don’t know. How fast can you drive?”

JJ laughed. “Very fast, ma’am.”

You nodded and spoke in a very teasing tone. “Then we better hurry home.”

You said home as if it truly was you and JJ’s home. Although it was John B’s home, you knew that wherever you were with JJ, that was your home.

#jj x reader #jj x you #jj fanfiction #jj maybank #jj obx #jj outerbanks #outer banks #outerbanks #obx #obx s2 #obx season 2 #obx spoilers #jj maybank imagine

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strbymacaroon · 3 years

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❀𖧷 My Hero Masterlist! 𖧷❀

❀ Welcome to heroic world of My Hero! Stories to open and experience. From meeting students and taking about drama, to soaring in the skies with heroes!

❀ I am your hostess, Angel, and allow me to assist you in your story to read! And to which adventure you’d wish to take.

(Just to remind you! These are the disclaimers!!)

Disclaimers!

☦︎︎ -> Smut

☹︎ -> Mature themes (As in heavy topics.)

☁︎︎ -> Fluff

⚠︎︎ -> Angest

♡︎ -> Requests

❀ Class 1-A

❀𖧷 Izuku Midoryia 𖧷❀

❀ Episode 2, Class 1-A Shenanigans: ☟︎

☁︎︎ ❥ Where your and Izuku talk about first kisses. And how he shouldn’t have his. And how much of a virgin Bakugou fucking is.

‘First kiss!’

❀𖧷 Shoto Todoroki 𖧷❀

❀ Episode 4, Class 1-A Shenanigans: ☟︎

☁︎︎ ❥ Where you finally question where the hell Shoto gets all his money.

‘Shopping with a Todoroki’

❀𖧷 Bakugou Kastuki 𖧷❀

❀ Episode 1, Class 1-A shenanigans: ☟︎

☁︎︎ ❥ When you are fairly new to U-A, and don’t have the best social skills- you’re dire to make friends. And if poking a bear while being innocent about it is what it takes? So be it.

‘Honesty… is sometimes best kept secret.’

❀𖧷 Jirou Koyka 𖧷❀

❀ Episode 3, Class 1-A Shenanigans: ☟︎

☁︎︎ ❥ Where you and Jirou talk about a certain crush she’s developed. With you fully understanding why.

‘Same taste in people, literally.’

❀𖧷 Kirishima Ejiro 𖧷❀

❀ Episode 5, Class 1-A Shenanigans: ☟︎

☁︎︎ ❥ Getting ready for the day, you seem to notice the wandering gaze of your friend Kirishima. So, with your skill in makeup- decide to give him a small makeover!

‘Makeup with Kirishima!’

❀ Hero’s

❀𖧷 Hawks 𖧷❀

☦︎︎☹︎ ❥ Small and innocent Y/n starts to attract the attention of drug dealer hawks. With a sinful desire following with it.

❀ Sweet Oblivion; Part 1

“Now, go be a good little Puppy, and fetch me, my fucking money.”

❀ Sweet Intoxication; Part 2:

“Go on Dove, tell them how much you love my cock.”

☦︎︎☹︎ ❥ Where Keigo gets annoyed with Rumi’s bickering and he thinks he knows a way to shut her the fuck up. Which also happens to include his roommates Dabi and Shigaraki.

(Completed!)

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zorilleerrant · 2 years

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given the popularity of WFA and the expected popularity of the announced Red Hood webtoon, I think we should get a TimBer webtoon. it’s a good format for just fluffy slice of life stuff that we won’t get in the comic books, and given what the app keeps trying to get me to read, there are a lot of fans who like queer content reading WFA. other webtoons I would like to see:

something with secret identity shenanigans. I miss those. doesn’t matter if it’s one character slipping up over and over or a variety of characters, either would be cute and funny.

Victoria October backstory. I want to see how she became a monster scientist! I want to see little baby Vicky just starting college and discovering a secret mad science lab or something!

HarlIvy, but it’s exploring their polyamory. we’ve got cute shippy content in both main continuity and lots of AUs, but like. where’s the cute content where they support each other’s love lives and befriend their metamours and help each other get ready for dates and stuff

villain perspective. none of the big time ones, maybe even one made up just for this. low-level day to day villainy, what’s it like?

outsider perspective from just random Gotham citizens. hi Gotham side of tumblr! a group of friends who meet up for a book group or something once a week, and talk about the heroes and villains they’ve met that week while they sip wine

Batman Beyond but it’s just worldbuilding. set during the TV show and fills in the blanks left there, especially wrt youth culture, fashion trends, slang, what people do for fun. some references to superheroing but less than in WFA. mostly about what it’s like living in Neo-Gotham.

a sitcom style Batgirls or Birds of Prey type story, centered around Babs and her annoying neighbors she’s feuding with. one or more of the other women could be roommates, or they could visit a lot. not even about trying to keep her identity secret, just the desk someone left in the hallway and how people won’t pick up their yellow pages

you remember how the Maps story tagline implied there was like. a Scooby-Doo style mystery society at Gotham Academy? anyway I want more stories about Maps and their mystery solving club

Ace the Bathound. Ace & Titus. Superpets. Damian’s pets being friends. Goliath hero arc. any of these. all of these.

#look i said something

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hookedonapirate · 3 years

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Book Update

If anyone is wondering when Hard To Handle will be coming out, I have some news! So, for those who don't know, Hard To Handle is an original A Helping Hand rewrite featuring Harper and Owen (Killian and Emma) and will be part 2 of the series. And if you haven't guessed yet, part 1 features Audrey and Brady (Elsa and Liam from A Helping Hand) with a Harper and Brady friendship. For those interested in their story, I have a little treat for you below. However, this Sneak peek doesn't show Audrey and Brady meeting yet because I haven't gotten that far.

This is sort of an enemies to lovers story (I say sort of because their "enemy" status in the beginning is too complicated to slap a label on it) that starts off with Harper and Audrey butting heads with their new neighbor, Brady, and him and Audrey exchanging love hate letters. 😉 Then Brady and Audrey form an alliance and break up Harper and Bryce. I promise it's not evil like it sounds because Brady discovers Bryce is cheating on Harper. Remember, Bryce is the Neal of AHH.

This book is a bit darker than book 2 because of the toxic nature of Harper's relationship with Bryce, and because Audrey often pays the price for his shenanigans, but there's still humor and fun in this one.

Anyway, here are the first few chapters. I may post more if anyone's interested ❤️

Chapter One

Brady

There are strange sounds coming from the unit next door.

Laughter maybe?

Yes, definitely laughter.

More like Cackling. From one—make that two—females.

Two loud, annoying females.

Just great.

I take pride in being a fairly simple man who doesn’t need much to be happy. A few things like fishing, enjoying an ice-cold beer and having a few moments of quiet time usually does the trick. Even the sound the can makes whenever I crack open the pull tab of Coors Light is music to my ears. I finally have time to relax after sweating my ass off from all the unpacking I did. I just moved in today and couldn’t stand the idea of tripping over boxes or searching through them every time I needed to use something. I was unable to stop unpacking until every single item in those boxes had a home.

Now I’m able to sit back in my patio chair, prop my feet up on the plastic stool and breathe in the pleasantly cool evening air, enjoy a refreshing, ice-cold beer and some quiet time.

Or at least I was able to until my air of tranquil serenity was so rudely disturbed by my cackling neighbors.

They could at least close their balcony doors, so the entire building doesn’t have to hear them.

I’m already in a foul mood, and the two laughing hyenas aren’t helping. If anything, my mood is worse than it was when I was packing.

They, however, sound like they’re having a grand old time. Doing what exactly, I’m not sure, but it sounds like one of them needed a break from studying and the other one is encouraging her to get drunk and let loose. Which means they’re college students.

Just fucking perfect.

This is exactly why I moved off campus, even though it meant paying rent and enduring a much longer commute to work.

It’s just my luck to get stuck living next to two loud teenagers or early twenty-something-year-olds. I’m around college students all the time, considering I’m an instructor; I don't need to live next to them, too. I learned that very quickly.

Young adults, my ass. More like impudent children.

I feel like the property management should’ve included that minor detail in the apartment listing. Or that not everyone is required to follow their uniform policies.

A peaceful, friendly community? Ha!

The management will definitely be hearing from me about their false advertising.

“Dude, I’m sorry to tell you this, Harp, but your boyfriend’s a fucking loser! Even Elisa said so!”

“He’s just misunderstood!”

“Misunderstood?! Bryce is such a creep!”

“Is not!”

I take a swig of my beer through gritted teeth. I really wish I had a TV right now.

It won’t be delivered until tomorrow, though. Which is very unfortunate and inconvenient at the moment because I need a distraction from reality. Listening to their conversation makes me furious and sad at the same time because it reminds me of me and my brother arguing about his girlfriend. I kept trying to tell Owen she was no good for him, but he wouldn’t listen. I bet this Bryce guy isn’t married, though.

Or maybe he is; I really don’t know.

I need something to take my mind off the overwhelming urge I feel to hop on a plane, fly to Chicago and kick my brother’s ass for being the fucking moron he is. And let me tell you, the urge is very strong right now. Earlier today, Owen told me the woman he’s been seeing is married. They’ve been dating for six months, during which she was lying to him the entire time. I already didn’t like her very much to begin with because she was a controlling bitch—I’m the only one who’s allowed to be a controlling bitch to my brother—and because ever since he started seeing her, I haven't been able to hang out with him very much. Whenever we made plans, he canceled them because Naomi wanted to spend time with him instead. And he was my best friend. Now he tells me she’s married and that he’s still staying with her.

What the actual fuck?

He’s so brainwashed by her, I couldn’t talk a lick sense into that goddamn head of his. Now he wants me to be okay with them staying together while she’s still with her husband?

Fuck that shit.

“Okay listen, if you’re going to talk shit about my boyfriend, we’re going to need more wine.”

“Agreed.”

It becomes silent next door for a few minutes, which makes me sigh in relief. Soon I hear, “Son of a fucking bitch!”

There’s a litany of curses and then, “We need a new corkscrew!”

“But we’re too drunk to drive anywhere!”

Damn, if only I had a corkscrew so they could drink more wine, get drunker and become even louder and more annoying than they already are.

That’s actually not a bad idea, though. If they’re anything like my ex-girlfriend, the quicker they get drunk, the quicker they’ll be ready to sleep. The quicker I’ll finally have my peace and quiet.

I contemplate driving down to the corner store, but what would I even say if I showed up at their door with a corkscrew they didn’t ask for? Oh, hi, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and took it upon myself to go to the store and buy you this corkscrew so you could both drink yourselves into an alcohol-induced coma and I could finally have some peace and quiet?

Nope, I definitely can’t say that.

Chapter Two

Audrey

“Son of a fucking bitch!”

When I rush into the kitchen to see why my roommate’s cussing up a storm, I’m expecting the counter and floor to be covered in wine and shattered glass, even though I didn’t hear any glass break, but Harper’s just holding the corkscrew and staring at the top of the bottle.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need a new corkscrew!” Harper grabs the bottle of wine and points the top of it at me. The cork is still jammed into the neck of the bottle, and the worm of the corkscrew is stuck inside it.

Which is very unfortunate.

She’s been studying her ass off, except for the occasional interruptions from her asshat of a boyfriend, Bryce. She had a really tough time getting him to finally leave so she could study, and she had to literally push him out the door. So I thought Harper could use a break and I could feel saner again by indulging in some wine. But one bottle of wine quickly turned into two. Or rather, it would’ve if not for the end of the corkscrew inside the cork.

Fuck.

“But we can’t drive anywhere,” I point out, considering how tipsy we both are, even though we only went through one bottle between us. But we’re both lightweights.

“Hold on,” she says, picking up her phone from the counter.

I cock my brow. “You do realize Amazon Prime takes two days to ship, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Aud. I’m not that drunk.” After looking at something on her phone for a minute, she leaves the kitchen, returns with one of her tennis shoes and sets the phone down to pick up the wine bottle. She places the bottom of the bottle inside the heel of the shoe, raises her hands above her head and goes to one of the walls in a striking pose.

I rush over and put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“This will push the cork out.”

“But won’t the wine spill all over?”

“Not if I can only push the cork part of the way out and then pull it off the rest of the way.” She hits the shoe against the wall a few times, but the cork doesn’t budge.

“Why don’t we see if any of the neighbors have a corkscrew,” I suggest. “This method doesn’t seem to be working.”

She sighs and drops her arms. “Who do you think would have one?”

“What about Mandy? She’s a wine drinker.”

Harper shakes her head. “She doesn’t get home from the office until late on Mondays. And there’s no way I’m trying mister grumpy pants across the hall. It always seems like he’ll snap at any moment. Plus, once his dog starts yapping, she never shuts up.”

“What about the new guy who just moved in next door?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if he’s an ax murderer?”

“I saw him earlier when he was moving in. He seems harmless enough, and is kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, well so was Ted Bundy. And I’d like to stay alive with my head intact, thank you very much.” I haven’t seen the new neighbor yet, but I don’t think going over to a stranger's place while we’re both a little tipsy is the best idea, for several reasons.

She flicks her hand. “Well, you don’t have to go. I will.” She grabs her keys, removes her pepper spray from the attached chain and throws her keys back on the counter before heading toward the door.

“Harp, wait…”

Ignoring my pleas as I follow behind her, she slips into her Nike slides. “I’ll be fine. I got my handy dandy pepper spray,” she says, holding it up.

Before I can talk some sense into her, she’s already dashing out the door and calling out over her shoulder, “If I’m not back in five minutes, call 911!”

I sigh and lean against the door, pressing my ear against it so I can listen for Harper’s screams or any signs of a struggle.

Chapter Three

Brady

When I head inside from the balcony, there’s a knock on the front door. I scratch my head and stride over to answer it, wondering who it could be. I just moved into this apartment today, so I literally don’t know any of my neighbors yet.

I open the door to a skinny blonde with green eyes, long, shimmering hair and soft pink lips. She’s easy on the eyes, but I have a feeling she’s one of the laughing hyenas next door. She’s not as young as I thought she’d be, though. She looks to be around my brother’s age. When I give her a once-over, I notice the pepper spray she’s trying to hide in her fist.

I wince at the sight of it. She doesn’t even have the safety lock on.

I offer a tight-lipped smile. “Hello.”

“HiI’myournextdoorneighbor,” she mumbles, her words slurred together. She’s a little tipsy and has to lean against the doorframe so she doesn’t fall over.

“How can I help you, next-door neighbor?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the pepper spray. The sight of it brings back too many painful memories. Memories I’d rather keep locked away.

“I was wondering if you had a corkscrew my roommate and I could borrow?”

On the balcony, I wanted to strangle the two neighbors who were interrupting my quiet time, but now I feel very protective. She’s obviously drunk, yet stumbling over to a neighbor she doesn’t even know. I mean, I like to consider myself an overall decent human being, or as I’ve been called before, “one of the good guys,” but this woman doesn’t know that. She knows nothing about me, yet she’s over here asking to borrow a corkscrew. And yes, she’s carrying a weapon, but I doubt she knows how to use it properly, and with how tipsy she is, I doubt she’d even be fast enough to use it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Her smile fades, but she looks determined, so I’m hoping she doesn’t go knocking on all her neighbors' doors asking for a corkscrew.

“I could buy you one,” I offer, trying to sound as polite as possible. Which is difficult when I’m irritated.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really? You’d do that?”

I cross my arms and give her a stern look. “On one condition.”

She nods excitedly. “Of course, anything.”

I’m so glad I’m a nice guy because this woman seems far too trusting, and I’m afraid of what would’ve happened if I were anything less than a decent human being. “I’ll go and get you a corkscrew if you return to your apartment and keep the noise down for the rest of the night. And maybe close your balcony doors so the entire building can’t overhear your childish conversation.”

I’m thinking this is a very reasonable request. I’m willing to leave the comfort of my apartment to get in my car and go to the corner store to get some women I don’t know a corkscrew, and all they have to do is put a cap on the noise.

But the scowl on her face tells me she doesn’t agree. “First of all,” she raises her index finger, “ruu-uuuuuuude!” She raises another finger. “Secondly, my roommate and I aren’t children. We’re having a stressful week and were finally able to relax and drink some wine when the corkscrew broke. But that’s okay, we’ll figure out how to get the cork off ourselves!” She turns on her heels and starts to head toward her apartment, but spins around again and gets in my space, jabbing a finger at my chest. “And thirdly, we weren’t being that loud!”

I clench my jaw as she storms away and slams the door shut after disappearing inside her apartment. I throw my own door shut, huffing in frustration.

Why couldn’t my neighbors all be sweet old ladies?

So much for having a relaxing evening!

I head back to my balcony when there’s another knock on the door.

“Son of bitch,” I curse under my breath as I march over to the door and yank it open. “What, now?” I ask angrily when I see her standing at my door again.

“I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

I furrow my brows, growing more agitated. “A what?”

She sighs as though I’m the one inconveniencing her. “A dress shoe,” she says impatiently. “Surely you’ve been to a wedding or funeral. You must have one.”

“I do, but why do you—” Before I get the chance to answer, she shoves past me and heads toward my bedroom.

I follow her in there and cross my arms over my chest in the doorway as I watch her go to my closet. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing?”

“I told you, I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

Seriously?!

The audacity of this woman waltzing into my apartment and taking one of my shoes! “That’s funny because I never said you could borrow one.”

“Wow, your closet is super organized,” she comments as she looks around, easily finding one of my brown dress shoes and grabbing it from the shoe rack.

I’m still standing in the bedroom doorway when she tries to get through. I reach for my shoe, but she steps back and aims her pepper spray at me. I instinctively duck out of the line of fire and lunge forward, grabbing the pepper spray from her hand and twisting the safety lock.

“Wait, please don’t kill me! My roommate’s calling 911 if I’m not back in two minutes!” she cries, shielding herself with her hands.

I sigh in exasperation and extend the pepper spray to her. “I’m not trying to murder you, I was trying to get my shoe back.”

She slowly drops her arms and narrows her eyes as she snatches the spray from my hand. “Then why did you take away my weapon?”

I scoff. “It was a reflex so I didn’t get sprayed in the face since I wasn’t actually attacking you. Do you know how many times I’ve been pepper-sprayed in the face?”

“Why, because you’re a rapist?!” she accuses, stepping away from me and aiming her pepper spray at me again, even though the safety is still on. She probably doesn’t even know that, though.

I sigh in exasperation and raise my hands in surrender. “No, because I was in the Marines. Getting pepper-sprayed was part of my training. It taught me how to use my weapons and equipment.”

She lowers the spray, guilt etched in her features. “Oh, sorry. My roommate said you might be another Ted Bundy, and I don’t want to be raped and murdered.”

“Yeah, because breaking into your neighbor’s apartment and stealing their shoe is a good way to prevent that from happening,” I say, my words laden with sarcasm.

“Well, no, but that’s what the pepper spray was for.”

“It won’t do you any good if you don’t use it properly. You need to have a firm grip and use your thumb to activate it so it can’t be taken out of your hand like I just took it out of yours.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She raises the pepper spray at me again and presses the button to activate it. But it’s still disarmed. Once she realizes her mistake, her eyes widen.

I cock my head to the side and plant my hands on my hips. “Really?”

She offers an apologetic smile, then scurries toward me, ducks under my arm and squeezes past me, darting for the front door. “I’ll bring it right back, I promise!”

I let her go and exhale another deep sigh. What could she possibly need my shoe for anyway? To squash a spider or something? Can’t she use her own Goddamn shoe for that?

Right, she probably doesn’t want to get her precious shoe all gross, so she’s using mine instead. Which means my shoe will be returned with spider guts on the bottom.

Just great.

I go to the balcony and curtly grab my beer so I can head inside and not have to hear every goddamn word of their conversation again.

Pound, pound, pound.

What the hell?

It sounds like they’re banging something against the wall.

My shoe, perhaps?

Pound, pound, pound.

Then I hear a loud pop!

“Yessssss!”

They got the cork out.

“Holy shit, you made a mess!”

“Sorry, but at least we can keep drinking!”

“Woohoo!”

I head inside and close the sliding doors, hoping to go to bed and get some rest. But then there’s another knock on the front door.

“Fucking hell,” I groan as I go over to answer it. It’s probably the blonde neighbor with my shoe, but I’m not sure I want it back.

Sure enough, it’s her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” She hands over my shoe with a small smile and heads back to her apartment.

“You didn’t borrow it, you stole it!” I call after her. But she completely ignores me.

“And sorry I tried to spray you...twice!” Before I can respond, she’s already inside her unit.

I bring the shoe to my nose to get a closer whiff of it. I noticed the smell as soon as she handed it to me. “Hey, why does my shoe smell like wine?!”

But I’m talking to the door at this point.

I shake my head and go back inside, trying to decide if I should try to get the smell out or just toss the pair into the trash. For now, I set it aside and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, hoping my neighbors will down the bottle, get tired and pass out so I can have a quiet evening.

No such luck.

They turn on the music, and I can hear the pounding bass through the wall and also, “Yeeeeesssss, this is my jam!”

The walls are actually shaking.

Why do the other neighbors put up with this! It’s absurd, really.

They should be evicted.

I contemplate calling the police to make a complaint, but this is New York City; the police have better things to do than respond to non-emergency noise complaints. So I return to my bedroom, strip down to my boxers and toss my clothes into the hamper before slipping into bed. I can still hear the noises coming from the unit next door, but thankfully, I’m a patient man. I’m sure they’ll get tired soon and go to bed. Or at least I hope so.

But an hour passes, and the music still doesn’t cease. I groan and roll over on my stomach, pulling the pillow over my head, wishing I had noise-canceling headphones right now. I’m normally against the idea of something that cancels all sounds, because it also cancels sounds that alert danger. Like if a burglar broke into the apartment or there’s an explosion or gunshot. But right now, I’d do anything to get a good night’s sleep. Between arguing with my brother over the phone into the wee hours of the night yesterday and spending all day moving into my new place and unpacking, I’m completely exhausted. Not to mention I always start my day at five in the morning. My classes don’t start until eight a.m., but I like to get an early start to my day. I got up that early when I was in the Marines, and some habits just never die.

I’m about to get up and go down the hall to ask them to turn down the noise, but I’ve already asked her once and she got offended, so I doubt it will do any good.

Chapter Four

Audrey

I’m immediately regretting the two bottles of Barefoot Harper and imbibed last night. My head is pounding, I’m dehydrated, and I have to be at work in an hour. I take some aspirin, drink a full glass of water before jumping into the shower.

When I leave my bedroom, dressed and ready to go, Harper is shuffling out of her room.

“Morning,” she says groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning, Harp.” I head to the kitchen to make her some coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker myself, I prefer tea, but I know Harper can’t function in the morning without a fresh cup of hot Folgers.

“Why did we drink on a weeknight again?” she groans, taking a seat at the table.

“That’s an excellent question.” I pour water into the pot and place it in the coffeemaker, turning it on.

Harper buries her face in the cradle of her arms on the table as I grab some aspirin and a tall glass, filling it with water. She doesn’t have to work today, but she does have classes. She’s already a registered nurse like me, but she’s going for her master’s degree to open up more job opportunities. And also because she’s an overachiever, when it comes to her career at least. I just wish she were an overachiever when it came to other aspects of her life, like the kind of men she dates. Or maybe Harper was purposefully aiming for Class-A levels of douchebaggery when she started dating Bryce. If that’s the case, then she definitely went above and beyond expectations. And while she is my best friend and roommate, there’s only so much sense I can talk into her. And I'm not willing to let some lowlife scumbag get in between our friendship.

“Here, these will help.”

Harper lifts her head and takes the aspirin and glass. When she pops the pills in her mouth, swallowing them down with a big gulp of water, she already appears to be more human again.

I grab my keys and strap my purse over my shoulder, heading toward the front door.

“Speaking of drinking, are you going to be here Friday night?”

I snort-laugh and turn to look at her, placing my free hand on my hip, knowing exactly where this is going. She’s still recovering from her hangover and already has booze on the brain. “That depends. Is Bryce going to be here?”

When she takes a slow sip of her water, I know what her answer is before she says it out loud. “Well, considering he’s the one who invited a few people over, yes, he’ll be here.”

“Then no, I definitely won’t.” I head for the door, trying to leave again.

“That’s a shame because Bryce has a good-looking friend who thinks you’re gorgeous.”

I spin around, cocking a brow. “Which friend?”

“Treyton. You haven’t met him before, but he saw your pics on Instagram.”

I walk to the table, placing my hands on top of the chair, my key ring dangling from my finger. “How did he find my Instagram account if we’ve never met?”

“Bryce showed it to him.”

What the fuck?

I furrow my brows in confusion. “Okay, why is Bryce showing his friends my Instagram account?”

She smirks. “Because Treyton was asking him if I had any cute, single friends.”

I sigh, not liking the idea of Bryce trying to set his friends up with me. I’ve met some of his guy friends, and neither is one I’d kiss if he were the last man on earth. “Sorry, not interested.”

I remove my hand from the chair and try to leave again.

“Oh, come on, Aud. Give the guy a chance. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but he’s fucking hot.” She picks up her phone from the table and pulls up something before handing it to me across the table. “See for yourself.”

I reluctantly take the device, a heavy sigh leaving my lips. I highly doubt his looks will sway me. Even if is hot, he’s still Bryce’s—

Holy crap.

He’s got those smokey grey eyes, a chiseled jaw and a little smirk on his beautiful face that makes me melt.

Well, fuck.

“So, what do you think?” Harper asks curiously, trying to stifle a smirk as she perches her chin on the back of her joined hands, her elbows resting on the table.

I try not to show how attracted I am to a freaking photo of a guy I’ve never met before, but damn, those eyes are spellbinding, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. “Okay, he’s a little cute.”

“A little? Honey, you and I have similar tastes in men, so I know you don’t think he’s just cute.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We usually do, which is why I have no idea how Bryce got your attention. He must have a big dick or something.” I narrow my eyes. “Does he have a big dick? Because that would explain a lot.”

Harper bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, Aud, you know it’s not all about the size! And no, he doesn’t, he’s average, but as much as you hate him, you can’t deny he’s good-looking.”

“Yes, maybe on the outside he’s cute but personality-wise he’s ugly as fuck.”

She sighs in defeat as I hand over her phone. This is just an argument neither of us will ever be able to agree on. Well, until she finally decides to take off those damn rose-colored glasses and sees Bryce as he truly is. But I know it would make Harper happy if I agreed to stay for the party. I know that sometimes she feels out of place considering most of Bryce’s friends are college kids. Normally, she’s the oldest one there, but you could never tell, because she has a baby face and looks at least five years younger than she actually is, so to the other college kids, she's one of them.

“Fine, I’ll be here for the party.”

Harper’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, but if any of his friends grab my ass, I’m leaving.”

She laughs. “Okay.”

The coffee machine beeps, so she gets up from her seat, grabs a mug and creamer and pours the steaming, hot liquid into her cup. She returns to her seat and sips her coffee as I once again try to leave. “Thanks for starting the coffee, Aud.”

“No problem. See you tonight.” I unlock the door, and when I pull it open, I notice a folded up crisp piece of copy paper taped to the outside. I cock my brow and peel it off, unfolding it. I’m expecting it to be from the building management.

But then I read the first line...

To the two hoity-toity princesses,

I immediately suspect it’s from mister grumpy pants across the hall, but the letter is in fancy cursive writing. Who even writes in cursive anymore? Maybe an old lady or mister grumpy pants, I suppose. But he normally doesn’t leave letters. He’ll just knock on the door with his cane and chew us out in person. Harper said the first time he knocked on her door to complain about the noise, he made her cry.

When he tries that shit with me, I give it right back to him and threaten to call the cops on his dog and have her taken to the pound. He tends to leave us alone now. So, I’m surprised he’s resorted to leaving us notes.

Can you kindly tone down your loud music and obnoxious woohooing, laughter and overall commotion that kept me up until 2 a.m.? Some people actually have to work on a Tuesday morning. I, myself, wake at 5 a.m. every single day and am now forced to go to work on three hours of sleep. Luckily the students I teach possess much more class and are at maturity levels you both obviously could never achieve if you actually tried. I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty, as you’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income and never worked a day in your lives, but some people actually have responsibilities and obligations, not just classes they can skip whenever they feel like it. So have a little respect and lower the volume a few notches.

This time you get a warning, but if the noise persists, I will be forced to contact law enforcement. Have a lovely day drinking your Starbucks lattes and trying to get rid of what I hope are nasty hangovers.

Sincerely,

The tired and cranky guy from 8C, thanks to his loud, annoying neighbors

P.S. The blonde who took my brown dress shoe owes me a new pair seeing as it now reeks of Pinot Grigio, thank you very much.

My nostrils flare before I even finish reading the letter. The audacity of this asshole! He doesn’t even know us, hell he hasn’t even met me in person, yet he makes all kinds of false assumptions about us.

I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty.

What the actual fuck?! Harper and I both wake up at the crack of dawn to go to work at the hospital, and we’re constantly on our feet for at least twelve hours. We only work three days a week, but our jobs are emotionally and physically draining; I mostly use the other four days to sleep, recover, clean the apartment and run errands. So, for someone to say we don’t work or ever get our hands dirty is a blow to the gut. We’re nurses for crying out loud! Getting our hands dirty is part of the job!

Another remark of his that irks me: We’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income. My parents would actually laugh out loud if they read this comment. They always tell me how independent I am. Hell, I wouldn’t even allow them to pay for my schooling even though they wanted to; I wanted to do it all on my own, so I had two jobs while I went to college. They also weren’t too happy when I took a job in New York, but they told me if anyone could handle herself in a big city, it was me. Not to mention, Harper had it way worse than me, growing up.

But the fact that this douchebag is so ridiculously wrong about us makes me smile a little. It will feel so goddamn good to make him see the error of his ways.

I’m still carrying the letter with me as I go to my bedroom closet and grab my stationary from the top shelf. I take out a sheet of paper and a pen from the box, replace it on the shelf and return to the kitchen. I hate the idea of using my good paper on this asshole, but if I’m going to stoop to his level and leave a note on his door, I might as well do it with class.

“What’s the note about?” Harper asks with furrowed brows. “I paid the rent just in the nick of time.”

“It’s not from management.” I take the pen and paper to the table and start writing out a letter. “It’s from our friendly neighbor in 8C,” I say sarcastically.

Her eyes widen as she reaches for the letter. “What did he say?”

I look up and hand it to her.

When she reads it over, the sleepiness in her eyes morphs into anger. “What the hell?! Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even know us!”

“Exactly.” I look down again at the paper and continue the sentence I was working on.

I can feel her staring at me as I write. “What are you doing?”

“Replying to him,” I say without taking my eyes off the page.

“What, are we in elementary school?”

“According to him, we are.”

“He’s just a douchebag, you can’t take anything he says seriously.”

I almost laugh. Normally she’s the one wanting revenge when someone wrongs her, and I’m the one having to talk her out of it. “Maybe, but this will teach him not to make assumptions about people.”

After I’m finished, I let her read it before I tape it to his door. I head to work with a smile on my face. This should teach him not to be such a dickhead.

Chapter Five

Brady

Dear self-righteous butthole in 8C,

~~~

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ahopelessromantic · 4 years

Text

Calm After The Storm ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Word count: 2,6k

Warnings: none

Your new intern causes you to look back on years of companionship with Spencer and think about what’s still ahead of you. (Inspired by Calm After The Storm by The Common Linnets :))

“Excuse me, are you (Y/N) Reid?” Still on your first coffee of the morning it took you a moment to realise that you had been addressed. With a sheepish smile you looked up from your desk to meet eyes with an unfamiliar face. “Depends on who’s asking.” You joked half-heartedly, scanning the unknown woman’s attire for a badge or visitor’s pass. “I’m Anna, Anna Wilde. We talked on the phone?” Realisation dawned on your face. Anna’s father was a friend of Hotch, he had called in some favours with your boss so she could have an internship in your unit. “Of course!” You smiled and got up to shake her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you want to start by meeting the rest of the team right away?”

“So, these are Agent Morgan, Agent Prentiss, Agent Rossi and Doctor Reid. And you already know Hotch, of course. Guys, this is Anna, our new intern for two months.” The team all smiled at her friendly, sensing how nervous she was. It wasn’t every day you met a bunch of FBI agents. After the round of introductions, you took her to the small kitchenette, telling her all about the small kinks the coffee machine sometimes had. “And feel free to ask any question, be as outright as you want. This is a tough job; I don’t want to sugar-coat anything.” She nodded, looking conflicted for a moment before speaking up.“You said Doctor… Reid? Are you married?” You chuckled, flashing her your wedding ring.

“You’re perceptive, that’s good. Yes, Spencer is my husband.” She frowned. “Aren’t there like, policies against that or something?” “Oh, believe me, there are. Relationships can pose a huge conflict of interest.”, you laughed again. “But we annoyed everyone around us with our crushes on each other for so long that everyone was actually grateful once we actually got together. We just had to make it clear that we wouldn’t treat each other differently because we’re romantically involved.” Anna nodded, still looking surprised. “Are you prepared to see some case pictures? We’re about to go into our morning meeting to talk about our next case, but you don’t have to look at anything you don’t want to look at.” Her eyes lit up at that and she nodded decidedly. “No, I’m ready. I used to intern with a surgeon. I can see some blood.” You almost told her that a dead body and an alive, breathing one under anaesthesia weren’t quite the same, but couldn’t bring yourself to do it. She was so young, and so ready to take on the world. In some way, she reminded you of yourself. Young you had been so ready to kick down doors and arrest bad guys when she started out in law enforcement, and it had taken some time for you to find the golden way between enthusiasm and a cool head. But despite her eagerness, or maybe even because of it, Anna actually didn’t do too bad during her first two weeks with your team. She knew how to take orders, something you hadn’t known back then, and also knew herself well enough to step down from a case when she couldn’t stomach it, something you also should have learned way sooner. Once, she even figured out the one clue that had kept you all from figuring out who the unsub was. You were growing to really like her, and she would make a great agent should she actually decide to join the bureau further down the line.

“(Y/N)?” “Hm?” You answered, still in the middle of writing a report. It was late in the evening, and the day had been eventful. The case had ended in a shooting, a bullet had barely missed your shoulder and given you a nice graze wound. “How do you do it?” It was only after hearing her question that you looked up from your screen. Upon seeing the confusion on your face, she elaborated further. “How do you and your husband make it through all the stress? You constantly have to worry that your partner is going to get shot, or kidnapped, or even worse, die. How do you deal with that?” You gave her a gentle smile and gestured for her to sit, using the short moment of silence to organise your thoughts. “I think… as cheesy as it sounds, honesty is the key.” You spoke. “We never leave anything unsaid, so that we’re in the clear if… something happens to either of us. There’s nothing we don’t tell each other; we’ve learned our lesson with that.” Anna nodded solemnly. >“I think I’ve never met a couple like you. Most married couples I know would have long split up.” You had to chuckle at that. “I think that’s because there probably aren’t any couples like us. Somehow, people think that when you’re married you either hate each other or are constantly overly lovey-dovey with each other. But Spencer is my best friend, my partner. The one person I want to come home to after a long day. He’s kind of just like my sexy roommate.” “Hey!” Spencer called out from his desk across the bullpen. “I heard that!” “Good!”, you yelled back. “You were supposed to!” Both you and Anna laughed, your eyes meeting. “It’s not easy, but I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. He’s also kind of the only one who understands my horrible working hours.” Anna nodded and chuckled. “Thank you. For being so honest with me, about everything. Most people just belittle me when I tell them I want to join the FBI.” You smiled. “Trust me, I know how you feel. Anything to give you a better picture of the life you have with this job. Do you want to go get some dinner?”

Later that night, after grabbing some orange juice from your fridge at home, your eyes landed on wedding picture that was pinned to its door. Spencer and you had been so young when you had met, barely even adults. Never before had you realised just how young you had really been, until you had seen Anna and how different she still was from your nearly mid-thirties self. The two of you had been so hellbent on proving yourselves to the world back then, so quick to prove anyone who told you what you could and couldn’t do wrong. Basically, the only people you felt safe to relax around had been each other.It had always been obvious that one day, there was going to blossom love between the two of you. Urged on by the pictures on your fridge you got a box from your living room and spread its content across your kitchen table. It was all the memories you had of yourself and Spencer, collected since the very start of your friendship. There were clippings from newspapers, pictures from birthday celebrations, museum tickets from all over the country. A plastic figurine Spencer had won for you in an arcade, a poker chip from when you had taken him to a casino and of course, quickly gotten kicked out again. But your favourite, of course, were the pictures of your wedding. The happiness on your team’s faces, small Henry bearing your rings, the way Spencer looked at you in your dress. He had been your companion for years now, your shelter, and the love you felt for him only ran deeper with every passing day. Working the job you did, the one thing you really needed was someone you didn’t have to question, and he was just that. The keys turning in the front door’s lock shook you out of your trip down memory lane. “Babe, I’m home!” Spencer announced, knowing damn well that you never slept until he was home. He often stayed at the BAU longer than you, always making sure the team hadn’t missed the littlest of details in a case.

“Hey.” You greeted him happily, pressing you lips to his. Your husband sighed into the kiss, pulling you closer. “I missed you today.” He murmured, gaze wandering across your face as if he had to memorise your features all over again. “You saw me a few hours ago.” You chuckled. He scrunched his nose. “Still. It’s been some time since we had a full day off. Are you looking at pictures?” He asked excitedly upon seeing the mess on the kitchen table. “Mhm.”, you hummed. “Talking about you with Anna brought back some memories.” He chuckled, immersed in the pictures spread out in front of him. “I wish I'd had someone like you being so open with me about the job back when I started at the BAU.” You joined him at the kitchen table, sneaking your arms around his waist. “Would you still have joined?” He looked at you, running his fingers through your hair. “I don’t know, actually. What I do know is that I wouldn’t have met you then, and I don’t know if I’d still like my life without you in it.” You felt yourself blush and buried your face in his side. “Shut up.” Not paying much attention to your shenanigans, he took a picture in his hands with a gentle smile. “This one is my favourite.” You furrowed your eyebrows. It was a picture of the two of you on the jet, months before you had even confessed your feelings to one another. You were asleep, face smushed against your seat, and Spencer was sitting next to you. He had an open book in his hands, but in the picture, he wasn’t reading. He was looking at you, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. You didn’t even know who had taken the picture, probably Emily or Morgan. “I think this was the day I realised I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” Spencer mused, his trademark shy smile on his lips. You looked up to him with wide eyes. “You already liked me back then?” He chuckled. “You really didn’t know? I felt like I was constantly embarrassing myself in front of you.” You laughed, shaking your head. “That was the time when I was still in denial.” You sighed and looked at the picture again. “It’s going to be eight years since we’ve met soon.” Spencer pulled you closer to his side. “Feels like it was yesterday to me.”

“What happens when an FBI agent gets pregnant?” You laughed at Anna’s question. She had become very comfortable around you over the course of her internship, and you couldn’t even imagine her not being around anymore. “You have to ask JJ about the kids stuff.” “Do you not want children?” Her question took you off guard. Did you even want kids? Of course, right? You were successful in your job, had an amazing partner… how had you never thought of that? The whirlwind that had been your twenties and first years at the bureau was over, and the current calm after the storm seemed to be a good time to think about it. Anna disappeared to ask JJ some questions about being a mom working for the FBI and the day went on, but her question didn’t quite leave your thoughts. Even when her internship was over and she went back to university, her words still echoed through your head. The young girl seemed to have given you a new appreciation of your life and had especially caused some thoughts about adding more to it.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” You bolted up from your thoughts, eyes zoning back in on Spencer’s face. “Huh?” You hummed stupidly. He deadpanned at you. “First you’re not able to look anywhere but the witness’s baby bump, and just now you were looking at my nose for ten minutes straight. Is everything alright?” You chuckled nervously, tucking your hair behind your ears. You had been staring at your husband’s face without an explanation. “I, uh…” You looked around the jet, making sure that no one else was listening in on the two of you. “It’s embarrassing to talk about.” Spencer just sent you a look. “We’ve been married for years and worked together for even longer. I thought we had gotten past ‘embarrassing’ a long time ago.” He did have a point; you had been the one to hold a big speech to Anna about honesty. “I…”, you sighed. “I was thinking about how cute your nose is, and if our baby would get it if we were to have one.” Your words seemed to completely catch him off guard. For few moments he just looked at you in frozen shock. Then facts about genetics started spilling from his mouth. “Actually, up until this day scientists can’t predict what a baby will look like based on its parent’s dna, but the philtrum is around 62% likely to be inherited from the parents, the tip of the nose 66% even. Additionally, considering the fact that male genes are generally more aggressive than female, ones it’s actually quite likely that a child of mine would have my nose.” Upon seeing the look on your face, he grew quiet. “But… judging by your expression I’m starting to realise that that’s not really the answer you had in mind.” You smiled at him, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the minute. “Not really, no.” He gave you a long look, then sighed. “Do you think we’re ready for that? I don’t know if I am.” You took his hand, squeezing it gently. “You would be an amazing dad, Spence. I don’t think anyone really has an idea what they’re getting themselves into when they decide to become parents. And yeah, I think we’re ready. I mean, we have stable incomes, an amazing support system… and I’m not really getting younger.” “Statistically, you’re still of great age to birth children.” He cut himself off and shook his head. “Okay, I heard it myself this time, this is making me nervous.” You pressed a long kiss to his hand. “Relax, my love. I’m not saying we have to get to it right away. I just know that that’s something I want now, and I wanted to talk to you about it.” He nodded. “Maybe it wouldn’t even be too bad if it happened soon. If it happens it happens, right?” You laughed incredulously, but then thought back to all the times Spencer had held the Team’s children with nothing but fascination and adoration in his eyes. Maybe he had been playing with the idea even before you. You watched his gaze space off into the void. “I have so many books to read.”, he said with an empty expression. You chuckled, looking at his nose again. He really had a cute nose. And it wouldn’t be too bad if your children inherited his eidetic memory, too, you guessed. While Spencer stared out of the window, probably trying to remember everything he had ever read about pregnancies and parenthood, you leaned back into your seat and closed your eyes. Whether you were going to get pregnant and be prepared for it or not, you had the best soulmate by your side you could wish for and there was nothing you didn’t trust the two of you to accomplish. You were so ready for the next challenge that was going to be baby Reid.

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