#like yes and hes worn some before but with a fluffy edge he wore them during bungee jump musical in aug 22🙄lolll

[galaxymagick]

231215 dear my muse fansign | ©vcloud_leo

[binniesthighs]

don’t you forget about me | reader x jeongin

it’s the last day that you might ever see him again, so, to hell with it, right? (image from straykidsfilm on twt!) 

please read the CWs bc this fic talks about body image!! this is something close to me as well, and I wanted to share some cute innie love!! <3 

hey you reading this! you’re gorgeous ;) 

don’t you forget about me | reader x jeongin 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x yang jeongin 

Genre:  fluff n’ smut 

Tags: high school crush au (everyone depicted in this fic is at least 18), virgin!reader, virgin!jeongin, plussize!reader (i think this is the right tag, if not plz correct me!) first time au, cuties in love, softdom!jeongin, (hehe ya know I love me a soft dom), sub!reader, unprotected sex (stay safe cuties!) semi-public sex, nipple play (f), fingering (f), cumshot, somewhat of a quickie, dirty talking, lil bit of a corruption kink, cute fluffy undertones!

CWs: brief mention of a fistfight and blood/wounds, insecurity over weight and descriptive narrative about body weight/appearance and negative self image 

Word count: 7.1k 

Word had spread that someone had gotten into a fight on the last day of school.  Supposedly, it had occurred during the second to last hour of the day, and it was a group of three to four boys. The rest of the details had been unclear, but you had heard mutterings about their names, or how each of them had walked into the principal’s office with bloodied knuckles, fat lips, and purple bruises to their cheekbones. You had heard that one of them had laughed in the face of the principal, claiming that they simply had it coming. 

“I heard that they were from class A-4. Or was it A-3?” 

Your friend leaned over with her skirt ruffling on her plastic chair. 

“Who could be so stupid?” She strung her bubble-gum around her finger with cracked nail-polish. “Are they looking to graduate, or what?” 

“I don’t know...” 

In your lap, you hands grew clammy with sweat. It was against your will, but you couldn’t but help thinking...

Yang Jeongin was in class A-4. 

Your chest tightened thinking about if it had been him that had gotten in the fight. 

It was no secret that you had harbored a crush on the boyishly handsome student from the other class of your same year. You had read or seen somewhere that the reason that they called crushes “crushes” was because they did just that--they crushed you to the full extent of the word. Whoever had said that, you had learned that they were 100% right. Having a crush on Yang Jeongin had been the most painful experience of your life. Since middle school, it had been something that you had scribbled in your diary, and the reason why you would hold your breath when he walked by with his friends, or when you’d see him on the same bus as you. 

You can’t exactly recall when it started, it just kind of did. 

There was nothing extremely notable about him: he wasn’t his class president, he wasn’t the ace of a sports team, nor did he even have friends who really were notable either. No matter how much you pondered it, you couldn’t figure out what it was about him. 

Yang Jeongin was known for having a kind smile and a jovial laugh, so you just decided that it must’ve been one of these things. This semester he had ashy-grey brown hair, and your best friend still hadn’t heard the end of it from you. Over time, you had learned that he liked banana milk with his lunch and kept a fox enamel pin on his backpack. He had worn the same beat up sneakers for all of high school and wore this same grey hoodie on most days when it would get cold. 

A couple times you had imagined what it would’ve been like if he had let you borrow it on the days when it would mist on spring mornings, or when snow would fall early in November. There had even been times when you imagined him holding your hand, walking down the hall, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to hold you close...among other things. Somehow, you liked to think that he would be the kind of person who would love you more than you could love yourself. Granted, you never could know for sure. Being optimistic made up half of your fantasies. 

“Just confess already.” 

Your best friend had said half a million times over the course of the years. 

The more you had contemplated it, the less sense that it made. A confession would’ve been a whole lot easier if he had known who you were. 

“There's no way.” You had said morosely. “As if he would say yes to me.” 

“Can’t know unless you try.” Your friend smiled, sucking at her lollipop on the walk home. “Don’t pretend like you’ve never written him a confession letter before...” Her backpack hopped up and down with her arms outstretched animatedly in that alley decorated with vines. “...Where do you keep them? In your desk? Under your bed? In your sock drawer?” 

“Oh shut up!!” You nudged her, sending her spiraling out with laughter. 

“If it’s the last day of school, you’ve got nothing to loose! You’ll never see him again! If he says no, no big deal!” 

The clock ticked on the wall to your classroom, the seconds hand moving silently faster and faster the more that you looked at it. Under your desk, your fingertips pricked the edges of the pink envelope. You had written your the name as nicely as you could with flowery cursive with tiny flowers. On the back, you had sealed it with a sticker: an orange fox. 

Your throat grew dry seeing only six minutes before the bell would ring, and then the metal legs of chairs would scrape on the floor, the hallway would flood with students, and you would make your way to his locker and pray that he would stop by there. In many ways, just thinking about it was enough to make your stomach do somersaults and for your hands to wet even more embarrassingly with sweat. Your knees felt limp, and you wondered if you even had it in you. 

Even worse, a deeper fear crept in the back of your mind--it was much more venomous and horrifying, but you couldn’t keep it down. You feared that he would laugh in your face, throw the letter down, and throw his head back at you and how ridiculous your moment of confidence had been. 

How could be like someone like me? 

Perhaps your biggest fear of all, even greater than the rejection, was him admitting that he could never like someone like you. 

Your skirt was tighter on you than most, at least, tighter than it was on the other girls. When you would shop at the school uniform store, you could never escape the glares from the ladies when you and your mother asked for the larger sizes that they had. Your soft cheeks were plush and squishy, and your belly striped with stretch marks that you had stopped looking at in the mirror. Because it was more comfortable, you wore leggings under you skirt, even in the warmer months, even if it made you sweat. Oversized sweaters would swim over your frame, for the very reason that you could swim in them. 

As optimistic as you could be, there had been some nights worse than the others where tears would wet your eyes before sleep, no matter how many affirmations and positive sticky notes you had pasted to the back of your bedroom door. 

How could I like someone like you? 

It would be so easy for him to say it. Words flicked off the tongue hastily are the ones that often hurt the most. You just hoped and hoped that he had been everything that you had made him to be...as unrealistic as it was. 

The bell chimed, and you felt your heart leap into your throat when the room erupted into cheers and papers and desks went flying and screeching around the floor. 

“Are you ready?” Your friend winked, and the corners of the letter pricked your fingers. 

~💌~

With some stroke of luck, he was exactly where you had wanted him to be. Even then, some small part of you had secretly had hoped that he hadn’t just so you could walk away. You would’ve walked away from him, that school, everyone who had known you and just let it be. However, fate had been much kinder to you...damned fate. 

Your heart quickened upon seeing him. He was wearing that same grey hoodie with the drawstrings that he would tie into bows sometimes, and that same enamel pin shone silver on his backpack. You realized that it even looked almost exactly like the sticker you had used. His navy uniform slacks were dusted with dirt however, and one of the knees had a bit of a tear to it. In your horror, you then saw the scrapes on his face: one right under his eye, on his left cheek, and a thin red line on his bottom lip where it had cracked open. Before you could think of anything else, seeing how much it must’ve hurt him made your heart twist.

From your backpack, you drew out the rest of the stuff that you had prepared, and tried your best not to collapse from the way that your knees trembled. 

“H-hi...” You announced, head down, and mouth deathly dry. 

Yang Jeongin whipped his head over to see you, slightly startled. Up this close you could see his adorable brown eyes that even looked at if they glistened with stars in them. 

“...Hi?” He returned, closing his locker, and wetting his lips. 

Your heartbeat rang in your ears, and you quickly presented him with the letter, the carton of banana milk with the heart sticker on top, and the tiny case of animal shaped cookies. 

With eyes glued to the floor and his beat up gym shoes, you said the words as fast as humanly possible, “I-know-that-you-don’t-know-who-I-am-but-I’ve-really-liked-you-for-such-a-long-time-now-and-seeing-as-its-the-last-day-of-school-I-wanted-to-tell-you-so-please-accept-this!!” 

You waited for what felt like hours, then he took the items from your hands with a tentative touch. “Um...thank you...for this.” 

This was it. It was happening. You had already known that it wouldn’t get much better, and the way that he looked petrified only made you feel even more heat rush to your cheeks. Even then, now that the words had escaped your lips for the whole universe to hear, it felt good in some small, relieving way.  

“Y-you don’t have to say anything back. Please don’t...don’t feel obligated to, I just...” Your voice trailed, and your eyes wandered to the exit door behind him, and the green of the summery trees. 

I should just leave. It would be better if I left. If I walk away, this is all over...

The hem of your skirt tickled your nervous fingers, and you had nearly made up your mind. You wished at least that he would say something rather than just staring. 

“I-I can just...leave, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...how could I think that...nevermind.” 

It took everything that you had, but you blinked the tears that stung the corners of your eyes and you hiked your backpack straps up a little higher. 

You motioned to the things in his hands, “I hope that you enjoy those things and...good luck at university.” 

You flashed a feeble smile for him, right back to his astonished face. Just outside of the exit, there was the rest of the world in front of you, and you also took peace in the fact that it really was a really nice day then. 

“W-wait!!” He suddenly said with a slight crack to his voice, turning after you to grab at your wrist too. As soon as he did, his eyes widened, the the gruff voices of a group of boys echoed down the hall. 

“Where is that shithead?? This isn’t over.” The tall boy from class A-4 balled up his hand into a fist, and smacked it into his palm. The tall boy and about three of his friends also had red knuckles and scratches on their faces, each to a varying level of degree. 

“Shit.” Jeongin bit his lip, and his grip on your wrist tightened. “Uh-can you come with me?? This way?? Fuck--” He nodded toward the opposite hallway, and your head spun thinking why he would want you to come with him. 

“What?? Why??” 

“Just--” He watched the boys coming frantically and hid behind his locker door. “They’ll beat the shit out of me again. Just....come on!” 

A nervous thrill sent a shiver down your spine feeling his hand and the warmth there while he guided you, pushing and parting the sea of bodies chatting and hugging each other goodbye. 

“Where are we going?” You called to him, and the little carton of banana milk swayed in his opposite hand. 

“I don’t know. Anywhere.” 

You followed him further and further, through the hallways that had emptied of students or any semblance of them. Shades had been pulled in most of the empty rooms, and the chairs had been placed on top of the tabletops of desks. Both of your shoes squeaked under the flooring when you turned corners, and the sound of his nervous panting became louder and louder. Where he held you, the sleeve of his sweater bushed up against you, and it was even softer than you had imagined. 

Jeongin pulled at several doorknobs, finding them to be locked, head turning to see if the group of boys had followed. At last, he found one that did unlock, and he threw it open on its hinges as quickly as he could. It was one of the storage closets for the theater department, and it was dustily coated on all surfaces and even moldy smelling, with not a window to be found. Jeongin flicked on the light, revealing the stacks of props and furniture that you vaguely remembered seeing in performances in the past. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you so hard.” Jeongin finally said. 

“It...it’s okay.” 

“If I got caught with them again I might as well kiss college goodbye...” He raked an anxious hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to fight with them before...” 

“Are...you okay?” You softened your tone, seeing the way that the pink marks on his face must’ve been made against the hard cement of the floor outside. 

“I-I’m fine. Thank you.” 

His eyes really did look like they glistened. 

“It...it’s really funny actually...” He shoved his hand into his pocket, fumbling with the contents with a shaking hand, then took out a crumbled piece of notebook paper that had been torn. “Take it.” He prompted with wide eyes. 

“Me??” 

“Who else?” He laughed lightly. 

The note had been written in black ink, and it smudged and bled to the other side of the paper, and the scribbled handwriting looked rushed as if it was an afterthought or some kind of crazed ramble. You unfolded it all the way, starting at the first sentence. 

dear y/n from A-2, 

you probably don’t know my name, but I’m yang jeonjin jeongin from class A-4, i wanted to write this to tell you that I think that youve you’re really  pretty, beautiful and that i’ve been kind of watching you for about a year now, i’m sorry if that’s creepy but, yeah, i just think that you’re really cool and i like it when you smile. i’m sorry that i didn’t say anythimg aything anything about this sooner, i was kind of shy about it to be honest, i didn’t want you to thank think that I was being disrespectful or anything like that, but seeing that its the last day of shcool school and I don’t have a ton to lose loose lose i thought that it was worth a shot. if this doesn’t go the way id i’d like it to, please don’t stop smilng smiling ♥

-yji 

By now, the boy from A-4 was swaying his body back and forth almost violently as he waited for you to read the letter and fiddled with his arms crossed. His teeth tugged at his lip, and he anxiously awaited for you to say something. Little did he know that reading his words you were so shocked that you were certain that you had forgotten how to breathe for a couple moments. 

“M-me? You mean this...for me?” 

“Yeah?” He advanced to take the letter back, “I’m really sorry if it’s creepy, I know that you don’t know me at all and we’ve never spoken, this must be really startling but...I wasn’t expecting for you to write me one too.” 

The adorable boy blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with a tiny growing smile. 

“S-sorry that I was so quiet earlier, I was just really surprised.” Jeongin flipped your letter over too, then gasped a little seeing the fox on the back. “Oh.” 

On the other side of the door, the loud and clambering footsteps of that group of idiotic boys clomped and they grunted among themselves asking where Jeongin had went. The two of you held your breath, and soon the voices receded. Once they passed, you threw your backpack around to scramble around the front pocket, pulling out a Band-Aid that must’ve been there for at least a year, but it still worked the same. 

“Here...do you need it?” 

“Oh! Um-no, but, thank you.” 

A silence filled the dusty room, and Jeongin awkwardly moved to sit on one of the old prop couches. He patted the spot next to him, beckoning you to do the same. 

“The timing...kinda sucks.” 

You laughed slightly, “That’s sort of my fault.” 

“--My fault too.” He quickly added. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get the chance to know you sooner. Maybe we could’ve...” Jeongin dug his fingers into the velvety upholstery. 

Slowly, your sinking insecurities started to creep like vines with thorns, and the words spilled out of your mouth before you had something to do with it. 

Maybe he’s just being nice? Are you really certain that letter was meant for you? 

“I guess that I’m just really surprised that you of all people could end up liking someone like me. Someone...that looks like me.”

The young boy cocked his head with his eyebrows confusedly crossed. “I don’t see what you mean?” 

“‘Cause I’m like...” You motioned to your thighs, a bit chubbier, your larger breasts, and your skirt riding up your legs too. “...like this?” 

“But there’s nothing wrong with you?” 

“Psh...”nothing wrong with me”...” You laughed with sarcasm at the comment. “Have you seen the other girls in the school? Some of them are frickin’ idols for crying out loud...” 

Jeongin’s eyes widened, and he scooched in a bit closer, but slowly; carefully. “What I’m trying to say is...that there’s no one else like you! And--” 

“--That’s exactly it. I’m not like everyone else...” 

Jeongin blabbered, and his hand found yours resting on your lap. “I-I’m not s-saying that’s a bad thing! I’m saying that the reason why you stood out to me was because I think...” He shied, cheeks becoming even rosier. “...Because you just seemed so happy all the time, like, you didn’t care what others did or thought of you, I could tell, even from kind of far away, that you were someone who’s real not some kind of made-up thing that you put on every morning for the rest of the world to see you as. Also...” He giggled, “I just thought that you were really cute too.”

His thumb brushed up against the back of your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile at the small feeling. 

“I mean...I do think about what people think of me, I think about it all the time...” 

“I do too.” He said quietly. “Why else did I let it get so far that I let four guys gang up on me outside school?” 

You didn’t press him for more, but merely let your opposite hand rest of top of his as you watched his expression fall. When he was in school, you had only ever seen him smile, but now seeing him like this, it was a whole other side. He looked up at you with his pleading eyes, and they were utterly gorgeous. 

“My mom...my mom doesn’t make a ton of money. She barely makes enough to send to me school here, or buy me stuff like new clothes or uniforms each year. I almost never see her because she has to work so hard for me and my brothers...those...assholes had something to say about it and I kind of...snapped. No one can say shit about my mom when they don’t know how hard that she works for us.” 

Your eyes fell to his scuffed and worn sneakers, and it all made sense. 

“Then they found the letter...I didn’t want them to ruin the last good thing that I had going for me.” 

In that moment, the whole world became silenced. You were the last good thing going for him and you had never even known. 

Then, he smiled, broken as it was, bit it was still embodied his gentle warmth that you had fallen in love with all those years ago. 

“But! It turned out okay I think.” Jeongin said with a sigh. He glanced down at your interlocking hands on your lap and chuckled a little bit. “Kinda cool that this worked out though. Maybe we could spend the summer getting to know each other?” 

This time, you let one of your happy tears drip down your cheek, and nodded gleefully. “Okay. I’d like that.” 

Jeongin smiled, just as you had seen him do it a hundred times, but this time you knew that it was all for you. 

“Can I...can I kiss you? If that’s okay? I-I’m sorry if this is really forward...I just...really want to.” He asked gently, then wiped away your tears with the pad of his thumb. 

You nodded, feeling  your whole body shake just a little with your nervousness and anticipation. The world appeared to melt away once he had leaned in to press his lips on yours as softly and as carefully as he could. In that moment, you had forgotten where you were, what time it was or the rest of the beautiful summer day outside the doors of that school. Here, it was just you and him. Embarrassing as it was, this had been your first kiss too. Your mind raced with a million thoughts, asking yourself if you had been doing it right, but once you felt him smile lightly into you, your chest shivered with a sense of relief. 

You had never expected kissing to feel like this, and it was a bit strange feeling something so close and intimate right on your own skin. At the same time, it felt like nothing else in the entire world had, and you only wanted more and more of it. He was cautious and respectful in the way that he had tilted his head, and loving how he had cupped your face with his hands cracked and bruised. You didn’t know where to put your hands at first, but settled one hand on his thigh, and the other on his shoulder where you tugged at his white button up stained with dirt. 

He too shook with a sigh, readjusting himself, then ran one of his hands down your arm to hold your hand were it rested on him. He tangled your fingers together, and made a tiny little gasp feeling you connect with him. In seconds, he allowed himself to grow rougher, running his lips over yours with a type of fervency that teased at your bottom lip where you felt the warmth of his tongue. It took no more consideration, and you gave him the permission to meet the heat of his tongue with yours between parted lips now becoming a bit swollen. 

Jeongin broke your connection for moments, and a different kind of haze took over his eyes. The way that he looked over your quivering lips sent shivers through your whole body, and he dragged his thumb over the tiny streak of saliva that shone on your lip. 

“Is it okay if I touch you? In other places?” His eyes fell, and you giggled at the way that a kind of lust-filled hunger seemed to overtake him. For years you had fantasized about him ravishing you like this, and giving love to every inch of your body no matter how hard it had been for you to do that same to yourself. Still, as hesitant as you were, you feared that he would get a taste of all of you, and still change his mind. 

“Really?” You stammered, instinctually crossing your arms around your chest. “You don’t think that I’m gro--”

“If you’re about to say “gross” don’t.” His expression became much more serious. “I-I’ll say it again a million more times if I need to: you, all that you are, is what I’ve been thinking of for so long, I’d love to touch you wherever you’ll let me.” 

This time, you didn’t know if the tears were happy or sad, but regardless, the fat drops still fell down your cheeks. 

“--And you can say no too. If you’re not comfortable, we can just keep doing what we were doing...there’s nothing wrong with that at all.” 

The dim yellow light in the room buzzed, and you had recalled all the many number of times that you had pictured the very scene about to occur. On lonely nights, you wished to have felt his hands all over you, and now, they really could be. 

“What do you say?” He asked, and squeezed your hand along with his. 

“Can we...go slow with it? I’ve never...no one has ever offered to--” 

“Of course we can.” He smiled adorably, which was a bit odd considering what he had just proposed. “But...I didn’t hear you say yes?” 

“Yes.” You quickly added with a nervous inhale, but held his gaze with your assurance. “I-I want you to.” 

The boy from the other class grinned, then took to carefully running his hands down your arms once more, and craning his neck to plant sweet little kisses into your neck: the stimulation from which made you whimper out of your own accord, and he giggled upon hearing it. 

“You like that?” He whispered greedily, then continued sucking a little harder. Jeongin shrugged down your sweater from the collar, and his wandering hands circled little rubs into your bare arms. 

Next, his fingers crept up slowly and cautiously at the bottom of your shirt, testing at first, but not pulling up the fabric all together. His cold fingertips buzzed on your skin in that drafty room, and he brought his lips back up to yours, also making tiny trailed gasps as he crept up all the way to your breasts. The moment that he touched them, both of you appeared to shiver on each other’s bodies, and your kisses grew even needier. At first he cupped over the padding of your bra, kneading and squeezing to play with the way that they jiggled slightly then pulling a bit harder, and relishing the way that they filled up his palms. 

“Does this feel good?” Jeongin asked on your lips and you nodded back immediately. 

The two of you leaned back on the aged couch, and the young man cradled your head to guide you into the cushion of the upholstery. He admired you for a few moments under him with one leg between your thighs and the other supporting himself and slipping a little on the cement floors. His thigh was just close enough to the heat of your arousal between your legs, and it ached and throbbed so badly, you were convinced you had never felt a feeling as intense as this. He leaned in closer, and pressed the muscle into your clit, and a muffled moan caught on your lip that surprised even him. 

“Can I touch you even closer?” He asked, and those ashy grey-brown strands of his dipped over his eyes. 

“Y-yes...please.” You found yourself begging, and he mischievously grinned at your desperation. 

Under the cotton of your shirt, his fingers slipped under the padding of your bra to toy with your breasts directly. He kissed even more tiny quaking breaths into your mouth, finally finding your hardened nipples and tweaking them with his thumb and index. He pulled lightly at them, making your buds even more sensitive. You cried out with a helpless “ah!” and he stopped, worry across his face as if he had hurt you. 

“F-feels really good. Don’t...don’t stop please...Jeongin...” 

Absentmindedly, your hips had started to grind against his leg, and he had taken notice of it too. Had you been a bit more attentive, you could’ve seen the way that his member had swelled in his navy slacks, and throbbed, begging for attention too. 

You could barely watch, but he hiked your shirt up, baring your cushy tummy for him to see only and you threw your embarrassed arms over your face. As long as you had kept the evil words at bay, they were much more seductive than any affirmation you could’ve repeated to yourself. 

“Oh-are you okay?” Do you want me to stop?” The young boy immediately stopped and removed his hands. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“N-no...it’s just...I’m really nervous be-because I’m--” 

He sighed, then pulled your shirt down once more. “I can stop doing that for now. But...I just want you to know...I think that everything about you is even more beautiful than you know and these...imperfections--which they’re not--is everything that drives me crazy. Please don’t think that I see you negatively at all. I promise that I want to make you feel good everywhere.” 

“Mm-okay.” You shook with a heavy sigh. “You aren’t...disappointed or anything?” 

Jeongin pressed a simple kiss onto your upper lip with a smile “Disappointed? Why?” 

“Because I don’t want--” 

“--No?? I’m not disappointed at all! You don’t owe me anything at all! Especially when you’re not comfortable with it.” 

“Hm, thank you.” 

He continued with a tiny grunt, lowering himself even closer to you, “Can I please kiss you some more?” 

You allowed him, with the warmth of your kisses' meeting in the middle. The heat in your pussy pooled even greater, and you grinded further, thirsting for him in ways that felt forbidden. For a brief moment, you felt the fear seeping back in, head racing with the dozens of thoughts that he might have if he were to see your stretch marks on your belly and on the top-parts of your thighs. The more that you found desire for him, the less that you were convinced that he wouldn’t desire you as much as you did him. 

“Do you want...I can touch down here too?” Jeongin hushed, breaking for a minute to hold your eyes earnestly. “Would that be okay?” 

He had noticed the way that you had pathetically rubbed into his leg, and this too sent your hands over your shy face. 

“M’ sorry...I can’t help...it feels good too...” 

“Don’t apologize! I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way.” Your crush smiled with his eyes smiling in the same way. “You can...probably tell.” 

“--But...what if you don’t like it?” 

He cocked his head, “Like what?” 

Your lip quivered and you found tears stinging your eyes once more. “Don’t like..m-me? What I look like?” 

“What!? Y/n...my head is like frickin’ spinning thinking about what you look under these clothes--can you please believe me?” 

“It...it’s hard to...” Fat tears came waterfalling down your cheeks, and once again the young boy fully stopped his advances. 

“The fact that I’m here with you, kissing you like this after daydreaming about it for so long...there’s nothing more that I want than to make you feel good right now. Trust me.” 

“A-are you sure?” 

“Y/n. I’m 100% sure. And you don’t--you don’t have to even take this off if you don’t want to...” He toyed with your skirt. “But these might get in the way.” He ran both of his hands up and down your thighs and leggings with flat palms, and you felt your whole body ache for more than just that. “Again, we don’t have to if you don’t want.” he gave you a reassuring smile, “We still have the whole summer--” 

“I do!! I...still do...” 

Your quick answer started the both you, but Jeongin still didn’t advance faster than what was comfortable to you. Instead, he carefully snaked his hands up and under your skirt, finding the elastic of the leggings then pulled. 

His eyes blew out, enamored, seeing your bare skin, and he wetted his lips too seeing the way that your underwear had glistened with your essence. It was against your will, but you had soaked through your panties which he had swiped over a couple times accidentally, and the action itself sent an aching quiver to your untouched bud. You watched his every move has he angled his hand to ghost over the wet fabric, making you squeak from the new sensation. After, he found the band to your panties, pulling them down too. 

“Wow.” He gasped, seeing the way that your bud twitched. 

Jeongin dipped his fingers into your wetted folds, teasing at first. 

“Woah.” He said with a little gasp. “You’re really...” 

You stifled a moan with your lip, feeling your cheeks grow even warmer as his digits slicked with your arousal. “I-I know...I’ve never like, done anything like this before.” 

The young boy’s thumb grazed over your clit, eliciting an immediate response, and your heels went digging into the cushion of the couch. 

“This is your first time?’ He asked gently, two fingers now filling up your entrance. 

The best you could, you tried to remain quiet, but the harder and deeper that he had advanced, the harder that it became. Your eyes wandered, right to the pressure he had created under his belt loops, and you wondered furiously what he would’ve felt like inside of you; if he could stretch you out, or what it would have felt to just be like that with another person. 

Jeongin admired the way that your face scrunched up with a prideful little smile, and loved every minute of the way that your mouth would form airy “oh’s.” 

“You like feeling my fingers inside of you? Fucking right into your wet pussy?” 

His gaze held a lusty glaze seeing the way that your eyes blew out upon hearing his dirty words, and it only seemed to make him throb even harder himself. 

“Y-yes...” You mewled, reaching out grabby hands to hold yourself steady on his shoulders, the other going to tug at his belt. 

“I-I wouldn’t mind if you...you know...” 

Jeongin rolled his body over yours, attaching his lips with yours once more just to let the words stick on your tongue. “You want me to fuck you?” 

“Only-only if you want to--” You could barely get the words out feeling your thighs to shake as he coaxed your nearer and nearer with his thumb rubbing circles over your enlarged button. 

“Of course I want to.” He assured you with even more kisses. “Are you sure?” 

You hooked a couple of your fingers to pull out his black leather belt from its confines, muttering a tiny “yes.” 

Jeongin carried out the rest of your job for you, going to quickly clink the metal of his belt away, tossing it to the cement floor haphazardly. From the boxers that he wore, there were a couple little wet stains, and the outline of his dick protruded thickly. Seeing it like this awakened something in you, something primal and feral that wanted nothing more to be connected to this boy and to have him spread you out until you could barely breathe. It was a horribly naughty thought, but as shameful as you felt, it was just as thrilling. 

The boy sprung free his erect member, pink and dripping with his pearly pre-cum, and pumped at it a couple times, eyes raking over your whole body in the way that you had only ever dreamed of. 

“This is actually...my first time too.” 

He had said the words coolly, almost like he didn’t care at all about them, but you had assumed he had done so to keep you from worry. 

“Oh fuck--” He muttered, taking his left hand to reach under your shirt once more and play with your breast roughly. “God, I can’t believe that this is happening.” 

You coyly hiked up your skirt a bit higher for him to get better access, but not all the way, just as far as you could feel comfortable. 

“I might’ve thought about this a couple times...” Jeongin said with a tiny smirk, then slowly dipped his hand back down to wet his fingers with your arousal, then coat it around his length. When he did so, he let out an unapologetic groan that wavered out of his mouth and filled up the room beautifully. 

“I’m gonna go slow, okay? I feel like I heard somewhere that it can kind of hurt for you the first time?” 

You nodded out quickly to let him know, finally becoming impatient enough to claw at his arms all wrapped up in that grey hoodie of his. 

He leaned down one final time, kissing you over before aligning himself with your pussy, kissing down your jaw, then to your neck where he buried his head as he lead himself into you. His arms shook where he held himself up, and the two of you shuddered at the feeling at last: that euphoric, tight, unreal feeling that you shared for the first time. 

You whimpered out, digging your nails into his back, and his breath hitched in his throat too. 

“I-its...s-so..tight.” Jeongin barely got the words out, but merely let himself throb around your velvet walls for a moment. “Y-you okay?” 

“Mmhm.” You said, barely able to get more words out than this. 

Truthfully, it did hurt just a little, but not as much as you had pictured it to be, but it was more like a pressure, and it only grew heavier as you got used to him. 

Jeongin started to thrust his hips slowly, even painfully so, but he maintained his pace dragging his hips over yours. He filled you up so fully it was unfathomable, and his length pressed up against your deepest spot, sending a kind of electricity through your whole body. 

He settled into a rhythm, finally getting comfortable enough to return back to your mouth to slick his tongue across yours, and cradle the side of your face in his hand. You let little whimpers fade into his mouth, as he did for you, and after long, he had decided to speed up just slightly to milk himself off with your tight walls. To your surprise, he reached his hand back down to your clit to rub at it erratically. His pattern made little sense, but compared to how he had been stimulating you deep inside too, you could barely hold on. 

Jeongin grunted, biting into your lip with a trace of teeth. “I-I want you to c-cum first--I can’t...I can’t--” 

Before you could even understand what he had said, the young boy snapped his hips harder, eyes closed and tiny bits of sweat forming on his brow. The pads of his fingers pushed harder, and you found yourself spinning even closer to an orgasm by his hand, the thought alone was enough to fulfil your deepest fantasies. 

“I want you to cum all over my dick for me, okay? Sh-shit...” 

“Jeong--” 

“God, you’re...fuck...” He laughed a little. “I really really like you y/n. I really...” 

It was as if the words had been stolen right from his mouth, and his voice had abandoned him, but all he could do was press harder, faster, glide his hips over you rougher...

“M’ gonna--” You gasped out with your whole core tightening into a knot that was just about ready to snap. The pressure behind your clit was intense and burning, and you became light-headed nearing the brink. 

All at once you came with a searing and inexplainable white heat--much more intense than you had ever felt before in your whole life, and every single muscle in your body quaked as you did so, and you threw your head back to that dusty cushion of the couch. Your eyes rolled back on their own accord, and the best that you could do to muffle your moans was throw your hand over your mouth--which was quickly removed by the young man to do the job himself. 

Your thighs violently shook and you felt yourself tighten around him. He too strung out explicatives as if they were the only words that he had known. You breathed out shallow gasps into his palm, and soon he tore himself out of your walls with incessant breaths, only having to jerk himself off for a few moments before his swollen tip burst with the white strings of his cum. He continued jerking himself as such until he had nothing more to give, and his own thighs shook where he had straddled you. You could feel his warmth on your thigh and the way that it dripped and slicked with the sweat of your leg. 

Jeongin’s entire face flushed with pink, and he stammered out realizing the mess that he had made all over you. 

“I-I’m so sorry...I-I didn’t realize, I wasn’t thinking...I just...” 

While it was a predicament, you mustered the best smile that you could for him, secretly and utterly loving the way that it felt on your bare skin.   

“I’ve got...I can figure something out--” 

“--Jeongin?” 

His attention snapped back to you in your afterglow, and you could practically see the boy melt right then and there. 

“--Don’t worry about it.” 

Just as he had been before, his smile creased into a shy and awkward little line, and he could barely hold your eyes. After the initial embarrassment, he couldn’t help himself but admire you.

“Hey Y/n?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t know if you’ve ever heard this before, but I really do think that you’re perfect. If not perfect for yourself, I hope that I can show you how you are to me. You’re perfect for me. You’ve always been.” 

“So have you.” You admitted to him in that cobwebbed room that held all kinds of forgotten trinkets and items. 

“And thank you for giving me your letter too.” Jeongin raised the back of your hand to his lips where he placed a chaste kiss, then helped you carefully back up as to not make a mess of your skirt with the white staining your leg. 

Your crush smiled, then let out a gleeful exhale, “I can’t wait for this summer.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

[drabbles-mc]

Comfort Zone

Chibs Telford x F!Reader

Request from Anon: Can I have some Chibs? I don’t care how you do it, but I want me some Chibs. But just a happy ending, yo girl loves happy endings ❤️

Warnings: language, alcohol

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Two fics in one day because today has been rough and writing is my number one coping mechanism haha. This is my first time writing for Chibs! Writing the accent was new so please extend a little extra grace there lol. Sorry if it’s clunky at all in that regard. But have a nice little dose of fluffy feelings with our Filip xo

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @adela-topaz-caelon​ @garbinge​ @chibsytelford​ @mijop​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ (If you want to be tagged in future fics don’t hesitate to let me know!)

Chibs was making his way back towards his dorm when he heard someone scuffling around inside. He sighed—the day had been long enough, the last thing he wanted to do was go toe-to-toe with whoever was rummaging through all of his things.

He pulled his gun out from his kutte as he pushed his door open, “Ye got about ten seconds to get the fuck out before I—” he stopped short when he saw you standing by his dresser.

You chuckled, motioning for him to finish his sentence, “Before you what? C’mon, I’m invested in this now.”

Despite his exhaustion he had to chuckle. He shook his head slightly, “Nevermind. What’re you doin’ here, lass? Haven’t you got a home of yer own?”

You laughed as you walked up to him, “Yea but you’re not there.”

The two of you were standing close enough to touch, to hold each other, but you didn’t. It was the same song and dance the two of you had been doing for weeks, now. There was no denying that there was chemistry between the two of you. You’d never made any attempt to hide the fact that you were attracted to him, and he wasn’t exactly a person you would describe as subtle. But despite all of that, neither of you had ever really pushed things to the next level. You couldn’t speak for what was going on inside Chibs’ head, but you knew that he wasn’t someone that you could afford to lose. If playing this game in limbo with him was how you got to have him, then so be it.

“What’s goin’ on, love?” he ran his hand back through his hair.

The smile faded away slightly from your face, “I…I’ve just had a really rough day. And honestly? All I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.”

He laughed, not at your exhaustion or distress, but at the plain and simple honesty of your statement. He’d never been someone who was good at saying no to you. He reached out and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

“Alright then. Sounds like I can help with both those things,” he pulled away and stepped back towards the door, “Let me go grab a bottle.”

You chuckled, “You really expect me to believe that you don’t have at least one stashed in here somewhere?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “Course I do. But if yer looking for a full bottle, you won’t find that here.”

He disappeared out the door and you couldn’t help but to laugh quietly to yourself. You sat down on his bed, curling your toes into the worn-out throw rug that was on the floor beside his bed. Your hands smoothed out the blanket next to you while you waited. You’d popped into his dorm countless times to talk to him. He’d even let you crash a few times if you got too drunk to drive home after a party, not that he would ever share the bed with you. It was the first time the two of you were really sharing the space together this way.

A few minutes later he reappeared in the doorway. He walked in, shaking his head slightly as he shut and locked the door behind himself. You looked at him, head cocked slightly to the side.

“You okay?”

He nodded, “They’re afraid I’m gonna drink myself into oblivion in here,” he lifted the fresh bottle of whiskey to prove his point.

You laughed, “Tell them you were at least sharing?”

He shook his head, “You wouldn’t get a moment’s peace if they knew you were in ‘ere.”

You smiled but didn’t say anything. You knew that he was right, if the guys knew that it was the two of you back here sharing a room and a bottle of whiskey, you’d never hear the end of it. They gave you a hard enough time as it was and nothing had ever even happened between you and Chibs. This might be just enough to make all their heads explode.

He shrugged his kutte off, draping it over the lone chair in his room. He tossed the bottle onto the mattress and you laughed as you picked it up, unscrewing the cap. You were about to press the bottle to your lips when you heard the sound of his belt buckle being undone. You froze, eyes automatically darting over to look at him.

He saw the look on your face and chuckled, “Don’ let me stop you. Drink up.”

You felt your cheeks get hot and you let out a nervous laugh as you took a swig from the bottle. Hopefully it would help to calm your nerves. The other possible side effect was that you were going to lose what little resolve you had left that was keeping you from attempting to climb him like a tree.

He was down to just his t-shirt and boxers as he made his way over to the bed. He stopped just before he reached it, taking a moment to really look at you. His brows furrowed for a moment as he looked you up and down.

“You wearing my shirt?”

You bit at your bottom lip, the heat in your face intensifying with every passing moment, “Um. Yea. Wanted something more comfortable. That alright?”

He chuckled and nodded, “Glad yer so comfortable here,” he sat down on the edge of the bed, “G’won, scoot over. Make some room.”

You laughed as you crawled to the far side of the bed, getting yourself underneath the covers as you did. Chibs slid in beside you and held his arm out, gesturing for you to come and tuck yourself up against his side. You did so gladly, reveling in the way his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, just passing the bottle back and forth to each other. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest and it made all of the stress that you had previously been battling with melt away. Every now and then he would lightly run his fingers up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

While he was still holding onto the bottle, you turned so that you were laying more completely onto his chest, one of your arms slung across his stomach. It earned a chuckle from Chibs, who then used the hand not holding the whiskey to lightly massage your temples.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, love?” he kept his voice quiet.

You sighed, drumming your fingers on his chest as you thought about whether or not you really wanted to get into everything that was bothering you. You didn’t really want to bore him with your work and family drama—you knew that he had enough to worry about with everything that had been going on with the club.

“Just a shitty day,” you looked up at him, “You okay? You usually don’t walk into your dorm swinging your gun around.”

He chuckled before taking another drink from the whiskey bottle. He handed it to you before leaning his head back against the wall behind his bed. “Don’t usually have people goin’ through my shit, either,” he pulled lightly at the sleeve of his shirt that you were wearing, “Thief.”

You laughed, “I guess that’s fair,” you sat upright so that you could take a swig from the bottle, the burn bothering you less and less as the night wore on.

You reached over him so that you could set the bottle on his nightstand. His breath hit your neck as you leaned across him and it almost caused the bottle to slip from your fingers. You tried to keep yourself composed as you leaned back, pulling your legs so that they were tucked up underneath you.

“Somethin’ on yer mind?” there was a hint of a smirk playing at his lips as he asked, and you had the feeling that he knew exactly what was on your mind.

“Why don’t we do this all the time?” you asked.

It wasn’t what he had been expecting you to say. He thought about his response for a moment, “Prob’ly because I’d run out of shirts for you to wear.”

You laughed, giving him a playful shove, “You know what I mean. Wh-why do we always have to pretend that we like each other less than we really do?”

“You tell me, darlin’,” the expression on his face was soft, knowing, “’Cos I’ve seen you backpedal about a dozen times just tonight.”

You wanted to sink into the mattress, hating how well he could read you, “Do you even like me?”

He couldn’t help his laughter, “Nah, can’t stand ye. That’s why I keep lettin’ you come around.”

You playfully slapped his chest, “You know what I mean.”

He rested his hand over yours, fingers tracing along your knuckles, “Course I like you. But I’m too old for games. I’m not lookin’ to convince anyone into anythin’.”

You mulled his words over for a few moments. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the alcohol, or a mixture of the two that made it so difficult for you to believe what he was telling you. It seemed too easy that he might feel the same way as you.

“So if I kissed you right now, you’d…just…”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling slightly at the edges, “G’won. Find out.”

You were hardly able to believe your own level of confidence as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. He instantly leaned into you, lips moving perfectly in sync with yours. You could taste the whiskey off his lips and tongue and it was everything that you imagined it would be. His hand came up and cradled the back of your head, keeping you pressed against him.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, you could see the smile on Chibs’ face. “See?” his hand slid down to rest on the back of your neck, “Wasn’ so bad, was it?”

“Not bad at all.”

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “Alright then. C’mere,” he reached and shut his bedside lamp off, “you had your drink. Come a little closer so I can give you a proper cuddle fer yer bad day.”

You laughed as he slid down so that he was lying on his side, facing you and waiting for you to do the same thing. You shimmied down farther underneath the covers. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you so that your chest was flush against his. Your hands came to rest lightly on either side of his neck, thumbs tracing idly along his jawline. Every few minutes he’d lean in and kiss you—on the lips, on the cheek, on the forehead. He never tried to drag it out. You found yourself settling into him, your legs involuntarily tangling themselves up with his.

“Goodnight,” you mumbled sleepily against his chest.

You felt his chest vibrate with quiet laughter. He pressed a kiss to the edge of your forehead, “Goodnight, love.”

[unchartedthelostlegacy]

Chlodineweek Day 3: Reunion

It was good that Windows XP somehow didn’t notice that she had already failed at entering the correct password five times. 

Chloe gritted her teeth and glared back down at the keys, and began to peck at them one at a time like they were the platforms she’d jumped across in the axe fortress.

Tommyiscute2003.

Wrong.

TommyIhateyou03.

Wrong.

“How important is this?” Nadine called from Chloe’s childhood bed. She was flipping through an ancient Shonen Jump.

“Oh, don’t even start.”

“Why can’t you access it on your phone?”

Chloe touched her lips. “I think I wrote it...in my diary.”

“Frazer, let’s look at the Neopets on your phone and be done with it. You know they’re all dead anyway.”

Her casual tone made Chloe bristle all over again. She didn’t even remember what had started the argument. It had to have been something about Nathan Drake. Their entire trip back home to Chloe’s mum’s house in Australia’s capital had been peppered with back-and-forth character assassination focused on which of them had neglected and starved her Neopets more.

“You’re going to be dead before my Neopets are,” Chloe retorted, pushing back her hair, and noticing Nadine had slid off the twin bed and was rooting around in the drawers. “Excuse me, I didn’t give you permission to--”

“Find this?” Nadine tossed a book at her.

Chloe recognized it the moment it hit her hands. A pink-and-blue diary with a cute lock on the cover.

“I’m assuming you still have the key, Frazer?”

“Oh give me all of three seconds,” Chloe said with a chuckle, sitting and pulling the lockpick from her hair. “These are never--” click. “Here we go. Ah, it’ll be on the last page...I think.”

Nadine had rested her arm across the chair and around Chloe’s shoulders. “What’s that drawing?”

“That is me.”

Nadine’s laughter was scoffing. “And--and the hair?”

“That’s what I looked like,” Chloe paged away from the emo self portrait. “Makeup and all.”

“Oh, that hasn’t changed.”

“Very funny.”

Nadine leaned forward. “Who’s this Tommy you mention on every page?”

“You can actually read that? I’m impressed. I definitely have better handwriting now--”

“Chloe?’

Somehow, they hadn’t noticed footsteps on the stairs and down the hallway, but the click of the door made them both jump.

Chloe’s mother walked in, holding some mail, and blinked. Why would they have a guilty conscience now? Why did it feel like they’d been interrupted in something important and bad?

They were only two grown adults trying to break into an ancient computer because Neopets wasn’t mobile-optimized, after all. Chloe wanted to hiss to Nadine that her job was the lookout, but Nadine looked more terrified than Chloe had ever seen her; she had just about hopped back from the chair.

“Something came for you,” Leah Frazer said.

“I...see that,” Chloe said, hand going to her hair. “You can leave it, mummy.”

“Think it’s from your school.”

“From...which school?”

Leah shrugged her shoulders. “The uni you never went to? It’s from Tim M. Pierce High.”

And she wonders why I never visit. Chloe stood, pushing her hand through her loose, damp hair one last time, reaching out for the envelope with the familiar emblem in the corner.

She’d worn it on her silly skirt-and-polo uniform all those years ago, fighting its conformity with home-dyed streaks in her sharply cut hair and her eyeliner even more intense than she wore now. She might have switched it up with novelty contact lenses sometimes too--she wasn’t proud of that--but she could stop a black-pentagon-bedecked ball with one black-nailed hand and aced all her history tests.

Yes, Chloe remembered Tim M. Pierce, and she also remembered opting out of another few years of being treated like she was weird and dumb.

“Are they...asking for donations? Or something?”

“I think it’s an invitation,” Chloe’s mother said. “Might be having the reunion soon.”

“The reunion,” Chloe said, as if the word was foreign to her.

“Nice timing, isn’t it? You being back for the first time in forever. You could go.”

Chloe breathed out sharply through her nose as her mother closed the door and her footsteps paced back down the hall.

Nadine leapt in front of her. “Let’s go to a hotel, ja?”

“Are you scared of her, love? She’s not going to kill us.”

Nadine shook her head so emphatically Chloe actually had to look up from turning the envelope around in her hand. “She doesn’t like me. She doesn’t like me here.”

It took a long, embarrassing moment for Chloe to even pick up on what she meant.

“Oh. No, no,” Chloe laughed, waving her hand and turning back. “No, she’s mad at me, honey. Because I haven’t been in awhile and--”

“Frazer--”

“Nadine this is my mother. She doesn’t even know--no. She had--you’ve misjudged her.”

Nadine said, flatly, “I’ll find one myself.”

“Nadine, she’s not like that. She’s just snappy. I--I get it from her,” Chloe said, sitting back down. “Where were we? Oh yes, let’s find the password.”

“You didn’t even call ahead to tell her we were coming?”

Chloe felt the nerves in Nadine’s voice, but she also felt sick that her mother had inadvertently upset her. “I’ll talk to her, Nadine. I’ll tell her to--”

“No, no, no!” Nadine was really losing it, wasn’t she, wandering around the emo-band-poster-walled fortress with her face in her hands. “Don’t say it. Don’t say I told you to--that she--”

“Was making my partner uncomfortable?”

“Ja, that’s what you don’t tell her. Do not tell her that.”

“Oh relax,” Chloe said. “Between you and Nate, she’d throw him out of the house first.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That she judges character. Well. About that. You wanted to know about Tommy?” Chloe held out the open journal, showing a double-page spread of a crude drawing of a boy and her very impractically dressed self, holding hands. “He was my widdle baby crush. Mum didn’t like him.”

“Was he the psychopath type you always go for?”

Chloe laughed. “He was a good student. Squeaky-clean. She still hated the sight of him.”

“Ja, your drawing doesn’t really sell him either.”

Chloe returned fire by throwing the entire journal back at Nadine, who snatched it out of the air and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, glancing back at the door. Chloe turned back to the keyboard and typed the password that had been scrawled beneath the drawing:

ChloeAndTom4ever.

“Open sesame,” she said, as the startup noise pinged and the cursor did its loading animation.

“You think he’ll be at the reunion?” Nadine said.

“Oh, who goes to those? Did you go to yours?”

“My schools didn’t have them.”

“Well,” Chloe chuckled, but it was flat, nervous, “I didn’t enjoy my time at school, and I don’t see why I would want to be reminded.”

“Maybe he’s still single.”

“I doubt it. He’s balding and divorced, Nadine, one hundred percent. Crushes in your teen years do not hold up. Ah, here. Just...click on internet explorer...”

“God this is ancient,” Nadine muttered, having come over to hover at Chloe’s shoulder again. “Does it even have an antivirus?”

Chloe hovered the mouse over the taskbar. “McAfee.”

“Oh,” Nadine said. “Then, no.”

“I used the same password for Neopets! Let’s see. Oh. Well, the map is different. Didn’t it use to have Mcdonalds?”

Nadine bumped her arm. “I thought you called it Maccas or something here?”

Chloe squinted at her and said, “‘Didn’t it use to have Maccas?’”

Nadine’s laugh was worth it, even as Chloe reached up and gave her a poke in her stomach. Nadine held her stomach and flopped back on the bed. Chloe loved Nadine’s laugh to pieces, loved how it completely overcame her.

“See? My Neopets are all here. Nadine, pull yourself together!”

Nadine did, eventually, and came over to peer at the screen, at Chloe’s five Kaus and two Kougras of varying shades. “Starving. Starving. Starving,” Nadine recited, hovering the mouse over all of them. “Great parenting, Frazer.”

“All right, but they’re not dead, are they? I’ll just go get a free omelet and feed them now,” Chloe said.

“They’re not even wearing any clothes.”

“They’re animals, silly. They don’t wear clothes.”

Nadine snapped, “Let me log in.”

And Chloe had to stare at four perfectly dressed Mynci. Skirts, hats, entire outfits. And they were all fed.

“Someone,” Chloe said darkly, standing and grabbing Nadine’s shoulders, “Waited for me to fall asleep on the plane and logged into her account on the sly--”

“Or maybe I’m just proper at Neopets, Frazer?”

Nadine grappled her back, and they fell onto the twin mattress, giggling and slapping at each other.

“You didn’t even know they could wear clothes. All of them can wear any clothes--” Nadine was saying, as Chloe shook her by the shoulders, “not like those MMO’s that gender-lock everything--oh shit it’s your mum again--”

Nadine said the last few words lightning-fast, trying to separate from Chloe, who only grabbed her tighter, and they both tumbled to the carpet as Leah Frazer walked in.

“What are you doing. Chloe, I swear to God,” the woman said, setting a pitcher of lemonade down by the computer with two glasses. “Stop hitting Ms. Ross. You never grew up.”

“We weren’t fighting.”

“Oh come off it,” she said. “And get these posters off the walls. It feels like these freaks are about to stab me every time I walk in here.”

“You could have taken them off,” Chloe said, struggling to keep Nadine pinned to the fluffy floor. “Could have made it a nice guest room, chucked all my stuff in the bin--”

“So dramatic,” Leah said, taking her elbow and forcefully pulling her off Nadine. “And immature. Where did you get these cuts?”

She looked at Nadine too, taking her wrist, searching for the scabs that hadn’t quite healed off in the week or two since the end of their adventure in India. Nadine had treated hers, but Chloe’s definitely had worsened. “What were you doing there?”

“Mum, you remember how it was, the mosquitos--” Chloe said.

“Tree branches,” Nadine said tightly.

“--hiking is a--a contact sport--”

“You’re both lying,” Chloe’s mum said. “And to think you brushed it off when I told you about that insurrection. I was watching the news getting worse and worse and you didn’t even call to let me know you were all right, Chloe Frazer.”

The woman headed back to the door, but remembered something, as parents will after having already scolded you, and turned back. “Maybe you can show those photos at the reunion. They’re gorgeous.”

“Mum, I told you, nobody there was on my wavelength.”

Nadine burst out laughing.

A very rare smile came to Leah Frazer’s face. “Well, they usually allow a plus-one...”

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Mystery Twins: Not Freaking Out

A new AU inspired by Mystery Skulls…

AO3 link

Ch.1

~~~~~~~~~~

April 6th, 1972

“What?! Stanford, tell him he’s crazy!”

But Ford glanced down at his navy-blue pamphlet, wincing, and closed the curtains, purposely keeping his eyes off his brother.

“Stanford? Don’t leave me hanging?” Stanley croaked. “High six?”

And the door was slammed in his face by his father’s hand, deaf to the wails of his nephew and the choked sobs from his mother.

Stanley growled in his throat. “Fine! I can make it on my own! I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone! I’ll make millions and you’re RUE the day you turned your back on me!”

~~~~~~~~~~

May 14th, 1976

Fiddleford had insisted that he and Stanford go out to celebrate their upcoming graduation. In a few days they would no longer be students, ready to use what they learned out in the real world. Stanford was reluctant, but agreed. What were the odds anything outside of a few drinks and some good food would occur? Stanford had a lot to drink for and it did seem like he never left campus for some typical college fun, so he took a shot and then stuck to some cozy beer and some onion rings.

After fleeing Columbia prison with a gang, and then weaseling his way out of that mess in New Mexico, Stanley had been apprehensive about trying to make it big in southern California, not knowing much about Stanford’s new life, but he did know that’s where he was going to college; Moses bless Ma and her phone calls. But what were the odds Stanley would ever run into his brother? He needed the money so he took the shot. 

At first, Stanford thought it was his imagination and he nearly choked on his beer while Fiddleford was busy talking to a guy who was also from Tennessee. A second, longer look confirmed his fears and Stanford saw his long-lost family member exit the bar, leaving behind a small table with a few empty beers on it to smoke.

With Stanley’s back to him, Stanford studied him through the glass. His hair was a bit longer than how he kept it in high-school and it wasn’t slick back tonight; probably from holding his head so much. From what Stanford had seen before Stanley had leaned against the window, his face wasn’t as round and youthful as it was four years ago; he had grown a square jaw like Pa’s. Like Stanford’s. His skin was rough and scraggly, unlike Stanford who was clean-shaved, and he wore work boots, dirty jeans, and a worn white t-shirt. Stanley Pines looked rough around the edges, but when he re-entered the bar Stanford saw that spark in his brown eyes that guaranteed a heart made of plastic gold and a promise to protect the things he cares about.

Stanford wanted to be angry. He wanted to shake his rage, punch the jerk in the face, and leave for campus. But he couldn’t. He was too relieved to see his brother alive and a very very small part of him had missed him like crazy these last four years. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive Stanley for what he did, but maybe if he was ready to apologize, Stanford could be ready.

Stanley’s eyes landed on Stanford on his way to his table and he froze like a statue and paled three sheets. Stanford wondered if Stanley would pass out and he could feel himself turn red with embarrassment. He bit his lip and tried to move his own eyes to the six-fingered hand around his drink, but his mind stayed on Stanley and the corner of his eye kept him in view.

Stanley looked ready to walk out the door, but with a sigh he returned to his table. Stanford could feel Stanley staring at his back; he let him; it was only fair that Stanley got to absorb Stanford’s appearance since he had his fill of how much Stanley had changed. He was bigger than he was in high-school, taller and slightly thicker maybe, but not nearly as muscular as his twin. Stanford’s hair was still an uncontrollable fluffy mess and he still wore glasses, and today he wore clean jeans with black sneakers to go with his black t-shirt that was covered by a brown jacket with tons of pockets.

Stanford couldn’t stand his brother looking at him and not looking back for too long. When he looked at Stanley, a waitress was picking up the empty glasses. Stanford watched Stanley hold up two fingers, the waitress nodded and said something he could hear across the bar, and she left. Stanley looked at Stanford, their eyes meeting, and he gestured casually for Stanford to join him at his two-person table and looked away, waiting for Stanford to either accept or reject the invitation. After taking a deep breath, Stanford swallowed one last mouthful of his drink, wiped his lips dry, and made himself walk to his brother’s table.

If either of them thought things were awkward before the moment Stanford sat in the empty chair, the atmosphere became even thicker and the room suddenly felt even warmer. None of them said a word and remained silent until the waitress came by with two more beers. While Stanford quietly thanked her, Stanley gulped his down. Stanford snorted with a small smile as he brought his glass up to his lips. The drink half-empty, Stanley slammed his down, gave a small grunt, and spat out, “So, what’s the word, Sixer?”

Stanford smiled as he slowly began to spill about college and his new friends. Well, more like best friend and acquaintances, but his status was much better than it was in high-school and he was much happier. Stanley nearly choked on his beer when Stanford mentioned his twelve PhDs and he immediately congratulated him and told him how proud he was; he even ordered two shots to celebrate with. Stories of college were swapped for stories of Stanley’s travels and before either brothers knew it, it was almost like nothing had ever happened. (This was probably thanks to the alcohol in their systems, but let’s not ruin a good thing.)

As less and less people crowded the bar and the drinks started to slow down, more and more was said between the pair of twins and it was almost too easy with how things flowed. Eventually they were the only ones at the bar and they could tell the staff was waiting for them to leave so they could close, so they decided to go for a walk to keep the good conversation going. It seemed like nothing could end such a surprisingly successful night until the hairs on the back of Stanley’s neck stood up and he looked over his shoulder.

Four dreary shadows followed them in the dead of night, but Stanley recognized them instantly. He tried to get Stanford to leave, but the eldest twin refused, no matter how hard the younger one pushed. Stanley stopped trying when Stanford gritted through his teeth, “I won’t abandon you again, Lee.”

The twins may have been out-numbered, but the gang was out-matched. After a few scrapes and close calls, the Pines twins left the goons on the sidewalk and ran before the cops could be called. One look at Stanley while under a lamppost and Stanford saw how badly his brother was beaten, so he forced him onto a trolley for Backupsmore and took him up to his dorm, where a first-aid kit sat under his bed.

Stanford ignored the fact that Fiddleford wasn’t back while he fixed Stanley up. He also ignored his twin’s groveling, claiming he could take care of himself, but Stanley had a broken nose and needed the extra pair of hands to snap his bones back into place. When all was said and done and Stanley’s schnoz had quit bleeding, Stanford filled an ice pack and made his twin lay down on his bed so he could rest. That was when Stanley spat out what had been on his mind all night.

“Why do you even care?” His eyes were covered by his beefy arm, making his expression hard to read. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

Stanford stared. Had he really made it seem he was so angry at Stanley he wouldn’t help him? “I… Yes. Yes, I’m still mad at you, but… but I…” He stumbled over his words and swallowed, the ice pack making his fingers numb.

Stanley peeked at his brother and sighed. “I’m mad, too… but I missed you so much that I ain’t got the time to be mad. You get what I’m sayin’?”

Stanford smiled and could feel a hundred pounds being lifted from his shoulders. “I think so. I might be angry at you for what you did, but I’m at a point in which I don’t care. At least, not as much as I care about getting my brother back.” He added nervously.

Stanley finally returned the smile. “Yeah. Me too.” And he accepted the ice pack and placed it on his head to help with the ache.

The next morning, Fiddleford tiptoed into his dorm and was surprised to find Stanford asleep on the floor, sitting with his arms-crossed on the bed, and a stranger on Stanford’s bed, one of his hands in Stanford’s hair. But a closer look told Fiddleford that the stranger was family and so he left them alone without a single sound.

~~~~~~~~~~

“No way?!” Stanley reread the check his brother handed to him. His eyes were particularly drawn to all those zeros, but he also checked the address and such and such. He grinned proudly and handed the slip of paper back with a playfully shove of his twin’s shoulder. “Congrats, Sixer!”

“Thank you, Stanley.” Stanford replied with rosy cheeks, pocketing the check in his brown jacket. “Now I just have to decide on what to study and how I’ll study it.”

“You’ll figure something out.” Stanley said as he munched on his bacon, happy to sit at a breakfast joint with his brother and just casually talk about life and junk. He didn’t need anything else. “Stanford Pines always thinks of a way.”

Stanford chuckled nervously, then changed the subject. “So, how do you like San Francisco?”

“It’s nice.” Stanley muttered with a shrug. “Not gonna lie, much of what I’ve already seen. Big city on water. It’s a lot nicer than Columbia, for sure, but it’s okay.” Stanford didn’t miss how uncomfortable he was about the subject, which made him only more sure what he was about to say was the right thing.

“I… I think I’ve decided what I want to study.”

Stanley grinned, his spirit much higher. “That’s what I’m talking about! Let’s hear it!”

“Well, when I was thinking about it, I couldn’t help but remember how I had always been teased for my six fingers.” Stanford started, raising a hand and wiggling his fingers. “But that got me thinking about anomalies.” And he pulled out his book on the subject and set it on the table for Stan to pick up and flick through the pages. “You know, things that are odd, unusual, statistically improbable, but not impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible, yeah I know.” Stanley agreed. “Well this all looks great! So you’re gonna go find monsters and stuff? Sounds right up your alley!”

“Thank you.” Stanford said with a smile. “I’ve already calculated where to start, and there appears to be a large cluster of anomalies in Oregon. The grant will cover the cost of a house and lab and everything I could need to properly investigate. But… it’s a bit overwhelming.” Stanford admitted. “It’s a lot to explore for one man.”

“Hey hey,” Stanley said firmly to squash any doubt. “You’ll be amazing at it.”

“I was thinking of hiring an assistant.” Stanford went on, hoping to get his point across successfully. “The grant is enough to cover some help.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea! What about that Fiddlesticks guy?”

“I was actually thinking of keeping this in the family.”

Stanley’s smile dropped. After staring at him for a second or two, he lowered his head and sipped his orange juice. “Oh.”

“I’ll pay you for your work.” Stanford explained. “I haven’t even started on the blueprints for the house yet, but you were always creative and ingenuitive; we can think of a design we both like and would give us our own rooms and space. You wouldn’t have to pay for rent or the bills, you working would do that, but your pay would be lower, but it would be enough for whatever you need. Sure, if I really had to I could probably figure it out, but I would really rather not, and…”

“I’m in.”

It was Stanford’s turn to stare. He was really expecting his brother to refuse, to be stubborn about this. Stanford wasn’t an idiot; he knew Stanley was living in his car and had not been doing well the last four years, and he harbored a lot of guilt for that, but now he had a chance to make things right. Things were still uncertain, and there were still some things about what happened they would have to talk about, some day, but family helps family. Right? “Really?”

Stanley laughed and smiled at him. “Yeah, bro! You need help and I can help you, so I’m in. Last thing I need is for you to go skipping into Roadkill County by yourself and getting eaten by a two-headed mountain lion or something. ‘Sides, we always wanted to go on monster hunts as kids, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that life is way too short to not do whatcha wanna do.”

Stanford grinned. “You won’t regret this, Lee! I swear!”

“Don’t sweat it,” Stanley chuckled. It was scary how similar they were; it appeared that Stanford was just as scared of losing Stanley as Stanley was of losing Stanford. “Wherever we go, we go together, right?” And he raised a hand to him.

Stanford grinned. “Right.” And they sealed the deal with a high-six.

~~~~~~~~~~

August 30th, 2000

“Move! MOVE! Outta my way!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Please excuse us, sorry!”

Ford was attempting to be the responsible and respectful one, since Stan was clearly going to be rambunctious and obnoxious enough for them both, but truth be told, if Stan was the one who was calm, Ford would be going ballistic.

They both ran into the hospital lobby, glanced at the directions board for the correct floor, and glanced at the elevator, stuffed with people like sardines in a tin can. Stan groaned and darted for the door to the stairs, making Ford grin and follow. They both used their adrenaline to run as fast as they could up the stairs and they nearly broke the door off the hinges at the sixth floor.

Of course, no one familiar was there to greet them, but the twins took that as a good sign; they hadn’t missed it. They walked to room 18 and saw that it was labeled “Pines.” The door suddenly opened and they were met faced-to-face with their nephew, Alex. 

The young man grinned at the sight of his uncles. “Hey! You made it!”

“We wouldn’t miss it, my boy.” Ford assured, patting his back.

“Is the squirt here yet?” Stan asked. 

Alex shook his head. “No, not yet. But Dana’s at eight centimeters, so it shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Well, we’re here for you if you need us.”

“Thanks. I better go get her ice chips…”

“Oh, I gotcha, sport.” Stan said and headed down the hall casually, his hands in the pockets of his khakis.

“Seriously,” Alex muttered to Ford, a bit more mournful now. “I really appreciate… I’m glad you’re both here.”

Ford smiled kindly and squeezed his shoulder. “Your father would be very proud.”

Alex managed to smile back. An alarm rang over the door for room 18, and Alex ran back inside, leaving Ford to stand there in horror as Dana lay in bed, sweating. Two doctors hurried inside the hospital room and the door was closed, leaving Ford in the dark. He sighed, hoping no more death would strike this family, and he took a seat in the hall to wait.

Stan was shaken, but hid it well, when he came back and Ford had to tell him that something wasn’t right. They were both very surprised when the door was thrown open and Dana was wheeled out in her bed. Alex was squeezing her hand as two doctors called out orders and took the new mother away. Ford and Stan hurried close behind, but were stopped at a different door.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but only the father is allowed with the mother for the C-Section.”

The twins paled. “C-Section?!”

Two hours later, Alex emerged, shaking, but grinning. “They’re… they’re okay. They’re okay.”

“Holy Moses, Lil’Lex, what happened?” Stan said sympathetically.

“It’s… well, why don’t you come in first, then I’ll tell you.” Alex suggested. The pair of men nodded, and were led into a bigger room.

Dana was asleep, apparently on some kind of medicine to help her sleep. There was a special hospital crib next to the big bed. Stan and Ford cautiously approached with Alex, but Ford had to cover his mouth with his six-fingered hand and Stan accidentally let out a long line of swears, making Ford smack him upside the head.

There were two babies. One wore a pink hat, one wore a blue hat, both wrapped in warm blankets, and lying close together. There was a second crib off to the side, but there was no wonder why it wasn’t in use. Twins stick together.

“Mighty Axolotl, thank you.” Ford muttered under his breath. “Alex, they’re beautiful.”

Stan rounded on his nephew and ruffled his fluffy brown hair. “You trying to be a conman like your uncle?”

“Heh, we did decide to take a leaf outta your book, Uncle Stan.” Alex admitted. “We wanted to surprise you both. That’s why things were a bit complicated, but everything worked out. The girl, Mabel, came out first. She kicked the doctor in the jaw.”

“Hah! That’s my girl!” Stan said proudly.

“The boy, Mason, had his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Came out blue.” Alex admitted. “He’s okay now, just gave us a scare, but the doctors say he’ll be alright.”

“Thank goodness.” Ford looked down at the baby boy and smiled, truly grateful he was okay, and he thought he could see something poking out of his hat, but it was probably just fuzz.

Alex watched amusingly as the older twins just looked down at the sleeping younger twins. They were smiling so peacefully while their brown eyes were glued hungrily at the newborns. Alex waited for them to ask, but apparently they weren’t going to, so he chuckled warmly, “You know you can hold them too, if you want.”

Ford swallowed. “V-Very well…”

Meanwhile Stan pulled up a chair, sat, and excitedly waited like a child.

Alex scooped up the baby boy and gave him to Stan, who held him like a champ. Then Alex carefully picked up his little daughter and let Ford hold her, who was as stiff as wood and extremely cautious, but after a minute of feeling how peaceful she breathed against him and slept, it was easy to relax.

“Hello,” Ford muttered down at the baby girl, who slept happily.

Stan smiled down at the baby boy, getting strong deja vu from when he held his nephew all those years ago. He noticed something on the baby’s forehead and carefully freed a hand to smooth over his skin, but it wasn’t something that could be wiped away. He gently pushed the tiny blue hat up the small forehead and beamed with pride at the unique birthmark. “Well, look at you, buddy boy. Whatcha hiding that for, ey? That’s pretty special.”

Ford looked down and smiled. “How interesting.”

“Kinda looks like the Big Dipper.” Stan said.

Ford chuckled. “It does.” Something caught his eye, drawing his attention back to the baby girl. She was stirring in Ford’s arms, and soon opened one eye, getting used to the bright world. The scientist held his breath as she looked up at him, and slowly opened her other eye, staring up at him with brown eyes that matched his own. “Stanley,” He hissed. “Stanley, he’s looking at me.”

Stan looked and smiled. “She must see something she likes.” He sneered playfully.

Ford smiled warmly down at her. “Hello there, sweetheart. I’m your Great-Uncle Ford, hi.”

Stan snorted and looked down at his new nephew. “That’s too much of a mouthful. You two gremlins just call me your Grunkle Stan, k’?”

~~~~~~~~~~

January 18th, 2001

The phone was ringing. No, maybe Stan had dreamed the phone rang, because when he lifted his head to listen, he couldn’t hear it, so he let his head fall back on his pillow and he began snoring again.

Ford soon opened the door. He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathed deeply to control himself, and then he entered Stan’s bedroom. He stood beside his sleeping brother and squeezed his shoulder. “Stanley. Stanley, wake up please.”

Stan blinked awake, groaned, and turned. “Whatcha want, Sixer?”

“Stanley, please sit up. I need to tell you something.”

That got his attention; how grave Ford’s voice sounded, how serious, how scary and non-urgent it was. This wasn’t an emergency, but it wasn’t good if Ford was waking him up in the middle of the night. Stan sat up and slipped on his glasses. “What’s wrong?”

Ford sat on the bed, facing his twin. He was quiet for a moment, but then began to talk in a melancholy tone. “W-We… um… The…” Ford cleared his throat in a sad attempt to start again. “I need you to, please, be ready to leave for California as soon as you can. W-We should pack for a few days, maybe a week just in case.”

A shiver went down Stan’s spine. “Why?”

Ford took in a deep breath and took off his glasses. That was never a good sign. “Alex and D-Dana went out. Left Mason and Mabel with a neighbor for a date night. I-It was raining…” And Ford was at a loss for words.

Stan sighed tiredly. “They got into a car crash, didn’t they?”

Ford nodded.

Stan clapped his hands on his knees. “Well, we can help ‘em out. Those little guys love us, and we can stay longer than a week to help the love birds recover.”

“Stanley… they can’t recover.”

That nearly made Stan’s heart stop. He watched as Ford’s head was hung low, but he could still see how wet his eyes were. 

Ford swallowed and croaked out, “They’re gone.”

Stan bit his lip.

Ford turned his head away. “Let’s try to leave within the hour…” He made to move, to attempt to be a man and hide his tears, but Stan wouldn’t let him.

He brought his brother in for a tight, warm hug, and closed his eyes. Ford’s eyes brimmed with tears, and fell when he shut his eyes and buried his face in his twin’s shoulder, but he couldn’t do more than shudder and control his breathing. Stan was still as stone, but a single tear leaked out of one eye, and he let it fall without shame.

~~~~~~~~~~

The nice old lady who had babysat the twins when their parents died kept an eye on them until the uncles arrived, coming just as quickly as they did the day they heard the niblings were being born.

When Ford and Stan arrived at their dead nephew’s house and made a short journey to the one next door, crying disturbed their ears. The frail old lady sighed sadly and explained to the men, “I’ve tried everything for her. Bless her heart, she’s fine, but she misses her parents.”

When the old lady shuffled away to find her spare key for Alex and Dana’s house, Stan and Ford went to see their niece and nephew, the pair in a bassinet in the living room. Soft music played on a record-player, but they were deaf to it. Poor Mabel was crying her little heart out, wailing as hot tears streamed her red cheeks. Mason was by her side, holding her hand as his bottom lip trembled, trying to help his sister but having no idea how.

Stan noticed this and smiled down at the six-month-olds. He ruffled the brown fuzz on top of Mason’s head and cooed, “Hey there, gremlins. Remember us? C’mere, pumpkin, let’s see if we can’t make you feel better, ey?” Stan carefully picked Mabel up and Mason let go of her hand, his bottom lip still shaking with emotion.

Poor Mabel still cried just the same, but Stan was patient and even smiled at her stubbornness. Ford watched, intrigued, as Stan cradled the baby girl in his muscular arm, ran a finger down her button nose a few times, slowly, and breathed deeply. By the time he ran his finger down her nose the third time, Mabel had stopped crying, curious, and then yawned, turning towards his chest and clinging onto his red Hawaiian shirt.

“There we go, better?” Stan asked. Whimpering from the bassinet made Stan chuckle and he reached a strong arm down for his nephew. “Don’t think I forgot about you, Lil’Dipper. I gotcha.”

“How did you do that?” Ford whispered as Mabel snuggled against his chest and Mason calmed down the second he was in Stan’s embrace.

The businessman shrugged. “I dunno, it worked for Alex when he got fussy and it worked on one of Soos’ cousins at Thanksgiving last year.”

Ford smiled and patted his shoulder. “Well you’ve always had a way with children, Stanley.”

“You’ll get the hang of it, Sixer, don’t worry.” Stan assured, but he was suspicious when he saw a new expression on Ford’s face. “Well we are taking them home with us.” You would think they had this conversation on the long car-ride, but the drive had been dead silent as the cold reality had set in.

“Stanley, no.” Ford said firmly, looking away. “We can’t.”

“Have you lost your mind, cuz I’ll help you find it!” Stan scolded. “Why in the world wouldn’t we take them home?!”

“W-... I… I w-... It’s not a good idea.” Ford stuttered, finally looking at his brother again. “It’s not that I don’t want to! I want to! And you would be brilliant at it, Stanley! But… But they would be b-... I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t be any good at it.”

“You were fine at the hospital!”

“That was different! Gravity Falls is too dangerous. I hate to say it, but they…”

“Then don’t say it.” Stan growled warningly. He calmed down a little, and then said with the kind of authority that made his word final, “Listen, we’re family; wherever we go, we go together. If they didn’t come home with us, where would they go? Everyone’s gone, so they’d go in the system, and you and I have both heard the horror stories. Best case scenario they would be separated, and that’s the best case scenario. They aren’t going in the system. They’re coming home.

“And what’s all this talk about you not being good enough for them?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and I’ve heard you say some stupid sh-stuff! They need you, and you need them. And honestly, if these kids are anything like us, I’m more worried about the town surviving than I am of them being okay.”

Ford snorted and bit his lip, smiling down at the pair of babies.

“It’ll work out, Sixer, just you wait and see.” Stan reassured and handed Mabel to him, despite the frantic look on Ford’s face and the fact that he was shaking his head “no”. 

Mabel hadn’t really fallen asleep; she was merely resting against Stan’s body. Now she grabbed Ford’s black sweater tightly and nuzzled her chubby cheeks into the yarn. She smiled at the soft touch. Ford held his breath, waiting for Mabel to start crying again, but she didn’t. He took in a few breaths and adjusted his hold so she was cradled more comfortably. The scientist smiled down at her and found all of his troubles were a bit less troubling.

“And no offense, Brainiac, but I don’t give a… gnome’s butt what you say.” Stan injected; he was really going to have to work on his swears. “I’m going to the courthouse before we leave town and I’m adopting these gremlins.”

“What?!” Ford looked back up at him in shock. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Stan had a very serious look on his face that Ford had only seen on rare occasions. “I ain’t risking some distant cousin or whatnot deciding I ain’t good enough, or the system deciding to take ‘em. They’re my kids…”

“I want to adopt them with you.” Ford interrupted, his voice lighter than it had been all conversation.

Stan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to do that…”

“I want to.” Ford said earnestly, looking back down at Mabel. The second Stan mentioned the possibility of them going away again, Ford’s heart broke. He couldn’t do it. Not if his life depended on it. He couldn’t let his children go. “Y-you’re right. I can’t… I can’t lose…” And he bit his lip and cleared his throat. “You were right, Stanley.”

“Heh. A broken clock is right twice a day.” Stan quoted and let Mason hold his finger as he held him in his arms. “Trust me. We’ll be okay.”

And Ford nodded, putting all of his trust in his family.

~~~~~~~~~~

“SIXER! C’MERE!”

Ford jumped up from his desk, knocking his chair to the floor, and sprinted down the hall for the living room, where he was certain his brother was yelling from. He stood at the doorway to find Mabel standing thanks to the help of the couch, a chubby hand on the cushion, and Dipper on his hands and knees beside her. Stan was sitting on the floor just two feet away from the toddlers and grinned at his brother. “Mabel almost took her first steps!”

“Really?!” Ford gasped happily and stepped into the room to watch.

“C’mere, pumpkin!” Stan cooed and waved his hands to himself. “Come to Grunkle Stan, c’mere!”

Mabel giggled and bounced on her knees, but still didn’t step to him. Stan even clapped one or twice to grab her attention, but all that made her do was let go of the couch to clap, but she was more than capable of standing on her own.

“Go on, sweetie, you can do it.” Ford encouraged.

At last Mabel seemed to notice that her other great-uncle was present. She turned and smiled a big smile at him, showcasing her new baby teeth, and surprised everyone when she turned and ran to Ford. Mabel might have tripped and fallen on her baby butt, but that didn’t stop her from giggling and reaching out for Ford, who instantly scooped her up while Stan stood, laughing.

“Mabel, you can walk! Clever girl, clever girl!” Ford praised.

“That’s our girl!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was on the floor of the living room a few days later, playing with Dipper and Mabel, building block towers. The door opened and closed and a booming voice called, “Where’s my troublemakers, ey?!”

The babies squealed and giggled and had a little race, crawling as fast as they could to the hall where Stan stood with groceries in his arms, but he sat the food on the floor to have free hands for his kids, and he scooped them up and scratched their chubby cheeks with his stubble.

“Hey there, kiddos? Been good for Grunkle Ford? No? Good!”

Ford rolled his eyes as he picked up the groceries. “They were as good as gold.”

“Eh, I guess that’s okay.” Stan smiled at Dipper, who was reaching for his glasses, and said, “Hi.”

Dipper smiled. “Hi!”

Ford did a double take as Stan laughed proudly and squeezed his nephew.

~~~~~~~~~~

From first steps to first words to first birthdays, the pair of old explorers were there for everything and couldn’t believe their luck. Pretty soon they were taking the children on safe adventures with them, fishing and hiking, and teaching them everything from Cowls to how to hot-wire cop cars. For eight years their lives were complete and things were too good to be true.

But then Stan went missing. At first Ford wasn’t too worried, only mildly annoyed, but to be fair they had a disagreement recently and Stan was a grown man, so maybe he needed to blow off steam. But then days went by. This was extremely unlike Stan, and there were some people that would want him gone, so without scaring the children too much, he began searching for his twin, definitely not freaking out.

[pigeontheoneandonly]

Have some fluffy swordfighting practice for no reason.  From my Pathfinder fan novel Shallow Graves: 

Clack, clack, click-clack.

“No.”  Lanna lowered her practice blade, ending the exchange, and blew her hair out of her eyes.  “Retreat on your right foot.”  Then, pre-empting his question, “Yes, it matters.”

Kel shook his head, frustrated, but not at her, and gave the sword a rueful glance.  “I am never going to get this right.”

“I’ve been practicing for eighty years.”  She leveled her gaze at him, and asked, brightly, “How long have you been working with a long blade?”

He rubbed his neck and glanced up at the ceiling.  “Four months.”

“The odd thing about swords is that you get worse before you get better.  And you, my dear—” here she prodded his middle with the practice blade— “Are smack in the middle of the downturn.”

They were alone, for the moment, in the middle of the indoor practice area at the Grand Lodge in Absalom.  Just about halfway through their first year as Pathfinder initiates, the novelty had totally worn off, and they were knee-deep in the messy slog that was training. The current Master of Swords, a one-legged dwarf woman by the name of Larkin Axetemper, visited the new initiates on their first day of weapons, and told them all sternly that she did not send out Pathfinders to die, and if they should fall in the field, it would not be any failing of hers.  They would each learn one method of melee combat, and one of ranged.  No exceptions.

It could have been worse.  Some initiates came with barely any proficiency.  Or perhaps that would have been preferred, Lanna thought, watching Kel’s patience wane.  Those who knew nothing about any form of combat might not feel quite so foolish trying to master a new one.  

And in truth, she wasn’t the best tutor for him.  This was a high art in Kyonin, and while every maneuver traced back to a martial purpose, much of what she’d learned was intended to display skill and provide entertainment.  A solid foundation, as her own Pathfinder instructor noted, but one that needed refining towards the realities of combat.  But Kel desperately needed the practice.  “Let’s do it again.  Unless you’re ready to give up…?”

His mouth set in a stubborn line.  He squared up and extended his rapier.  “Alright. Round six.”

Lanna cleared her throat.  His eyebrows bunched together.  She glanced pointedly at his feet.

“Oh. Right.”  Kel shuffled until he was once again in line, presenting the smallest possible target to her.  “Hey, if I manage to hit you, will you show me the leaf thing again?”

Leaf thing. She rolled her eyes.  “You are referring to the Whirling Leaf dance, perfected by the great swordmaster Adondlyra Alain eight centuries ago?”

He grinned. “You know, your Iadaran accent gets that much thicker when you’re offended.”

“Pfft.” Without warning, she lunged towards him. He managed a clumsy but effective parry, and actually retreated three steps without tripping over his own feet. “See, you can do it when you’re not thinking about it.  Just get out of your head.”

Without replying, he flashed towards her, slashing with the practice blade.  She leaned back out of the way on sheer reflex, her hair whipping past her face, and only some very quick footwork saved her.  But he’d over-extended in his eagerness.  Lanna slipped to the side and swept her sword towards his exposed flank.  He froze as it bumped against the padded cuirass he wore by requirement.  The blades might lack an edge, but they could do some real damage as clubs, if swung hard enough.  Lanna wasn’t running at top speed.  It wouldn’t have helped him.  

He took it well, absorbing the scene for a moment or two.  “Let’s say I saw that coming.  How do I get out of it?”

“Move your rapier down to the left.  No, more angled.  Here.” She lay her sword on the ground and came around behind him, adjusting his sword arm.  “And you want to swing your off-hand back like this, for balance.”

She took hold of his wrist with her other hand, and slowly moved him throw the parry.  By necessity, she stood very near him, a part of her distracted by the familiar feel of him, his shape, his scent.  It took a bit of work to keep her mind on business.  “You’re lucky I’m this tall.  Just think, it could be Master Elwick walking you through this.”

He caught the slight change in her tone despite her best efforts, and twisted his head towards her with a smirk.  “Perish the thought.”

“And I’m sure he will,” she continued, just as sweetly, “If you cannot manage to pay attention.”

She smacked his ass and retrieved her weapon.  He sighed.  “Spoilsport.”

They faced off again.  He eyed her, teasing.  “I have wondered if one reason you were so satisfied when Larkin decided I was best suited for the rapier is that the longsword instructor looks absolutely nothing like Master Elwick.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” she replied, in the most sultry tone she could manage, and was rewarded when his mouth dropped open.  Lanna took advantage to lightly slap his arm with the sword. “Of course not, Kel.  It’s because I agreed with her.  I might not be an expert, but I do know some things.”

“It seems to work well enough for you.”  Plainly doubtful.

“This,” she said, flourishing the practice longsword with a certain over-the-top dramatic flair, “Is the ancient weapon of our people.  Its mastery demonstrates an appreciation for one of the great art forms of our culture.  It is serviceable and venerated.  Its design has not changed in two thousand years.  It looks very nice in traditional sword dances like the Whirling Leaf.”

Kel’s grin widened until it became an actual laugh, at that last bit.  She lowered the sword and pointed towards his rapier.  “That is a modern weapon of deadly design.  It is intended for killing anyone who attacks you quickly and efficiently.  It is light, it is strong, and those it cuts will be dead on the ground before they know the point has pierced them.  It is better.  I’m helping you practice because this blade and yours are similar enough to help you.  But you do yourself no service trying to make them the same.”

She took it from his hand and went to rack the practice weapons.  As she put them away, she could feel him watching her.  That slight pressure of his gaze raised gooseflesh on her skin.  Most of her life, she did her best to make herself smaller, in every possible meaning of the word, to go unnoticed and unmentioned.  Someone spying her through that veil made her nervous.  It always felt like a threat.

Except for him.

“You know,” he said, in a lower voice, one soft, admiring.  “You really undersell how smart you are.”

The compliment made her cheeks warm.  He was wrong, of course, but it was still nice to hear.  “I’m not.  I just listen more closely than people think.”

A bark of laughter.  “That is not even a little true.”

“Kel,” she chuckled.  “I know this for the same reason I can recite poetry or play the eiwel.  I had a strictly classical education.”

To make me more decorative, she thought, bitterly.  Not sure how she felt about even Kelinthal appreciating that.

Familiar footsteps behind her.  Kel always walked loudly, deliberately, in her presence.  She couldn’t remember how that started, but it was a small courtesy she hadn’t ever realized she wanted until she noticed how some part of her unclenched.  He put his arm around her, gathered her hand up in his, and kissed her fingers, resting his chin on her shoulder.  “Hey, where did you go just then?”

She turned her head.  His expression read concern, but laid in with traces of lingering amusement, at her antics. Nobody thought she was funny, either. “I love you.”

He stuck out his tongue.  “It would be pretty awkward if you didn’t.”

She let out a snort.  He went on, “How would I ever explain why all my clothes are in your room?  Oh, where would I put my face, the embarrassment—”

Lanna pivoted in place until she faced him and poked his chest with her forefinger. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Well, I—”

She pushed forward and kissed him.  His hands slid around her back.  And for that small moment, she nearly believed everything he said.

[innuendostyles]

Your from the UK right??? Not to make u sad but imagine going to Asda with Ben at 2 in the morning (u only went for some milk) and u end up coming out with almost the entire shop in ur trolley 😂😂 Happens to the best of us

YAY

“We’re only going for milk.” He quietly mumbled as he aimed the keys at the car and pressed the lock button, hearing the sound of the mechanisms working to ensure the car wouldn’t get stolen from the car park. He held his hand out for you to take before he crossed the zebra crossings, giving a silent nod to a car that’d stopped so the two of you could pass.

It was a gentle reminder but also a jest at himself, considering the last time he’d gone to Asda this late, he’d returned home with a new DVD player for your living room, an abundance of on-sale Easter chocolate, and a DIY friendship bracelets set (it was located in the 6 years and over section, but he wouldn’t tell anyone that part.)

The bracelets aforementioned had been tied to your wrists for a month and a half now, yours was a braided black, white and yellow band while his was black, white and red. He somehow matched his outfit, black jogging bottoms, a red Nike hoodie and the best part of all…. socks with sliders. You’d claim that if he wore those out of the house, you’d pretend not to know him, but later decided that it was more endearing than embarrassing. His socks were black with red love hearts printed all over them, some you’d got him for Valentine’s Day as he claimed that “a pair of socks is the best present you could ever buy a man.”

You, on the other hand, wore a pair of black leggings, paired with an extremely worn “Rolling Stones 1979 Tour” acid wash t-shirt. Ben had insisted that you wear one of his jackets, given the fact that your local Asda always seemed to be freezing around this time, so it was topped off with a navy blue Nike Air Max windbreaker. Your fluffy bed socks really pulled the outfit together.

You each had one of Ben’s AirPods in your ear, currently listening to a song by The Lumineers, one that Ben described to you as making him feel as if he was “running down a sandy beach trying to get to you.” His pinky finger slid around your pinky finger as he strayed to the shelter where all the trolleys (shopping carts) were located.

He always pushed the trolley, claiming his driving skills were better than yours, but you knew the only reason he enjoyed pushing them so much was so he could “fly down the aisles”, an act in which he would push the cart extremely fast when there was nobody near you, and lift his feet from the ground, letting the cart take all his weight.

The song ended and changed to a Snoop Dogg song, to which you quirked an eyebrow, asking, “What fucking playlist is this?” with a laugh.

You walked through the sliding doors, Ben already getting distracted by some plants that were on clearance at the front doors, silently placing 2 small plant pots with some sort of pink flower in the middle into the cart.

There was a display as soon as you entered the shop floor, a large green cardboard cut out of the grinch, next to it sitting a handful of Christmas DVD’s, letting all the customers know that they could “Buy 1 Christmas DVD and receive a free 9” pizza”. Ben’s eyes immediately lit up, turning his head towards yours as he exclaimed that Christmas films and food are two of his favourite things ever. You shook your head in disbelief as you picked through the DVD’s, most of them being new and animated films you’d never heard of.

You were looking for one in particular, though you had little faith that it would be in the same pile as these cartoon ones. Ben loved The Nativity, one of the funniest Christmas films in the world, he reckons. He thought Martin Freeman was one of the best actors ever, and that along with Marc Wootton, it had to be the best film ever.

You rifled through the array of cases, finally picking out a white cover that read, “The Nativity!” You placed it in the cart, seeing Ben’s eyes light up as he bounced up and down in excitement, like a child.

“Can we get pepperoni on the pizza? Please!” He whined, earning a “yes” from you, to which he skipped down the aisle and giggled like a schoolboy.

You reached the fridges, Ben picking up 2 pints of milk and putting them in the trolley before giving an accomplished nod.

“Can we ‘ave a look at some vinyls?” He asked, with a pleading pout that he knew always won you over.

“Ooh, yeah actually, Gwil said he wanted the Hamilton vinyl a couple of weeks ago. Might be a good present, yeah?” You suggested, knowing it would result in Ben realising he hadn’t yet bought Christmas presents for any of his friends yet, something you’d been trying to gently remind him of for the last couple of weeks.

You made your way to the music section, getting distracted by anything and everything you could find. Ben was clinging onto a t-shirt with a green dinosaur on it, lit up by Christmas lights with a star on top of its head, the phrase “Tree-Rex” printed underneath it.

He held up the knitted fabric to you, and you both whispered, “Joe.” at the exact same time. It was folded and placed into the cart.

A pack of 250 small Christmas cards was the next thing to grab your attention, Ben telling you that the two of you “had to send the neighbours a card this year, considering the amount of times they’ve had to endure foolish giggles and the  creaky bed really late at night!” You’d simply nodded with a chuckle, though he didn’t put them in straight away. He noticed the box had been busted open at the top and went on a hunt for an unopened box. He reached his arm all the way back into the shelf, jokingly asking you to hold his hand so he didn’t get lost. He finally grabbed a pack, throwing them into the trolley from about a meter away and doing a celebratory dance when they went in.

One of the lights overhead flickered, which caused Ben to turn to you with an over-exaggerated gasp, claiming “Asda is haunted!!!!” and running away from you frantically. You guffawed at his antics, lightly jogging after him while trying to catch your breath from laughing.

After collecting your pizza on the way to the music section, Ben made a quick turn down the homeware section. He browsed the cushion cases, holding up a few colours and patterns that he thought may match your living room sofa, all of which received a horrified glare from you (this was the exact reason you didn’t let him take the lead when you decided to start decorating your flat together… his first suggestion was warm brown walls with a stripy turquoise and black sofa…)

He reached the mirror section, finding an extremely large plain mirror, with no frame, slowly running his finger over the edge of it.

“Might buy us this for Christmas.” He stated.

Your brows raised in confusion, tilting your head to tell him you were unsure why he’d said it.

“One of them naughty mirrors…… when you put it on the ceiling so I’d be able to see everything when you’re ridi-“  your hand quickly shot over his mouth, your eyes widening as you took in what he meant. You could feel his lips sporting a smirk beneath your palm. You shook your head and giggled along with him.

“C'mon babe… know you’d love seeing this juicy cheeks every time I’m on top of you…” you lightly smacked his chest and delivered a sharp, yet humorous, “enough!”.

Once you’d finally made it to the music section, Ben appeared to be in his element. He’d picked up the Hamilton vinyl for Gwilym, as well as a new Ariana Grande record for Lucy. He was eyeing up Taylor Swift’s newest release, hoping you wouldn’t notice when he slipped it into the cart. He groaned when you looked him directly in the eyes and shook your head with a knowing smile on your face.

“I was gonna give you that for Christmas! Now you’ve ruined the surprise!” He whined with a pout.

“You are all I want for Christmas.” You replied, already cringing wondering if anyone else had heard you.

He, too, shook his head, but still gave you a quick kiss on the cheek to show his appreciation for you.

The next aisle was the clearance aisle. This was a dangerous one for Ben. His Mum had always taught him “never to pass up a bargain, cause you’ll see it one day, regret not buying it, go back the next day and it’ll be gone!”.

Within 5 minutes of browsing the shelves, he’d picked up a large Christmas-themed Yankee Candle gift set for his brother, a turkey-shaped dog toy for Frankie (this one you’d suggested) as well as a pack of 3 photo frames and a new flower vase for his mum.

Walking to the checkout was always a dangerous game, as the bakery part of the shop was located right next to all the tills. He’d always claim to be “just looking” while you unloaded the trolley onto the moving belt so the cashier could scan your items, and most times he only came back with a box of flapjacks or at the most, 2 jam donuts and a reduced fat chocolate eclair cake.

What you weren’t expecting today, however, was for your boyfriend to return with a basket he’d picked up from somewhere, filled with pastries and cakes that made your mouth water.

“These’ll be alright til Christmas Eve won’t they? Can watch Nativity with our little pizza ‘n then fill ourselves wi’ these after? Yeah?” You didn’t really get a chance to reply before the food was placed down onto the belt. You’d never seen him so happy with himself, thinking he’d just come up with the best idea in the entire world, even though you’d done basically the same thing for the last 2 years of spending Christmas together.

The cashier gave you your total, a whopping £110, even though you’d originally come in for 2 pints of milk, which should’ve brought your total to around…. £3.

He shook his head with a small smile as he took his card out of his wallet, swiping it over the reader and thanking the lady when she gave him his receipt. He rolled the trolley out onto the car park, you following closely behind telling him to unlock the car so you’d be able to hear the beep it made and find it, considering how dark it was outside. After locating the vehicle, he gently placed all the items in the backseat, taking extra care to make sure the pizza was cushioned by Joe’s new shirt and Frankie’s new toy. He dropped the trolley back off at the shelter before getting into the car, strapping his seatbelt and turning the radio on.

Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime” filled the speakers, causing Ben to let out a quiet, “What a fuckin’ banger!”.

You couldn’t resist the urge to lean over and give him a peck on the cheek and a ruffle of his hair. You simply were having a wonderful Christmas time.

[khunfounded]

See You in the Morning

As the adrenaline wore off, Bam found himself continuously looking around just to make sure they were all real. His friends surrounded him, worn out and bleeding, but alive. These were the people that kept him fighting, that kept him surviving all these years, despite everything that Fug put him through. He worried that if he blinked they would all somehow disappear. If he weren’t so tired, he honestly thought he would be crying out of sheer joy and disbelief.

Early that day, Shibisu had proclaimed that a celebration was in order for the winning team Sweet & Sour, and in honor of their members that were currently out of commission. Food and drinks were passed around, with sweet and sour pork making a prominent appearance.

Bam sat on a couch in between Khun and Rak, only partially listening to Quaetro and Yeon avidly discussing Yeon’s newly discovered control over her fire. He loved them all, truly, but his eyelids were falling and it was getting hard to keep up with how fast they were both going. He found himself leaning more and more heavily into Khun’s side, which elicited a side-eye and a faint chuckle from the other.

He had missed this dearly, but at the same time he couldn’t help but think that he had never really had it before, either. There was no Sweet & Sour, or Ran, or Quaetro, or really Quant and Lero-ro. Even the people he did have back then, he thought, he didn’t appreciate enough. Bam had known what loneliness was, but he hadn’t known true loss until he fell away from all his friends and had to use every ounce of his determination just to keep them alive.

Bam knew they felt the same way, too, with the desperate hug Rak gave him when they finally saw each other again, and the long glances Khun kept giving him every time he thought Bam wasn’t looking. Bam wondered if Khun thought he was going to just disappear out of thin air, too.

His head fell onto Khun’s shoulder as he turned his face to watch Ran and Anaak slowly get into a more and more aggressive debate over hotdogs that would have quickly gone to blows if Arkraptor didn’t intervene. He felt Khun shift next to him as a breath wisped over his temple.

“Tired?” Khun murmured so only he, and perhaps Rak, could hear.

“Nah,” he responded through a yawn, which didn’t help his case, but he persevered, “I’m fine. Just a little sleepy, I guess.”

“You look exhausted, Black Turtle,” came the gruff voice on his other side, “as my prey you should take better care of yourself, so I can beat you fair and square!”

“I’m fine,” Bam promised, unable to control his grin, “I just wanna stay up for a little longer”.

Yeah, Bam missed this. This unyielding friendship and unquestioning love. People that cared about his health simply because they wanted him to be okay, rather than wanting their god to be at tip top shape. He had been worried, sometimes, in the back of his mind, if his friends would treat him differently after all this time, after all he’s changed.

It wasn’t the same, true, but not because they were afraid of him or wanted to use his power, but because they had all changed over these past seven years. Rak seemed more self assured, less likely to just jump into battle without any forethought. Shibisu was more comfortable in his own skin and Hatz was starting to trust more in himself than his sword.

Khun, too, he thought, as he got comfortable against him, was different. He was more closed off from the people around him, unless they were Bam or Rak, and there was an edge to him that Bam hadn’t seen before. It was like he was holding his cards close to his chest, except you had no idea how many there were or even what game he was playing. Bam was sure that it was good for battle, but he was also worried for his friend.

He turned his head slightly, looking up through his eyelashes at Khun. He was watching with hidden mirth as Lero-ro tried and failed to teach Miseng and Quant some game using spoons. To Bam, Khun had always looked ethereal, like a shinsu moon. But unlike the moon, Khun was right there, and Bam was allowed to be close to him, rather than just bask in his glow.

That’s why Bam could never understand Rachel’s fascination with the stars. Sure, they were pretty, and they gave you light, but there were so many more important things, like friendship, and laughter, and games with spoons. Things like Khun’s eyes, bluer than the rarest suspendium and crinkling at the corners.  

Those eyes shifted to look straight at him, making Bam smile softly.

“I missed you guys,” he admitted, words gentle in their honesty.

A long look and then, “I missed you, too,” whispered like a prayer. 

Except Khun would never pray to Bam, which was one of the reasons why Bam loved him so much. In a fit of contented inspiration, he knocked their fingers together, before grasping Khun’s hand and squeezing.

That earned him a tiny smile and a squeeze back, Khun intertwining their fingers. Bam was just about to ask him about the spoon game when he found himself letting out a loud yawn. 

“That’s it,” Rak said above Khun’s snickers, in a tone filled with humor but brooking no argument, “It’s bedtime for tired turtles.”

Bam raised his head to interject but Khun spoke before he could.

 “I’m pretty exhausted, too. You weren’t the only one fighting for your life, there, Bam,” he teased as Bam pouted, “I’ve been ready to sleep for a while.”

He got up, bringing Bam’s hand, and subsequently Bam himself, up with him.

“We’re going to sleep,” Khun loudly announced as Bam stumbled against him, “Don’t wake us up unless someone is actively dying”.

He turned to Rak, who’s compressed legs were swinging from where he was sitting on the sofa, “You coming, Croc?”

Rak bounced up and scrambled over as Khun started to tug Bam out of the room, “Of course, Blue Turtle, you couldn’t stop me”.

Beneath the cries of goodbyes and goodnights, Khun smirked, “I wasn’t trying.”

--------

They headed into a nearby empty room, and Khun shoved Bam into the bathroom to get ready for bed whilst he and Rak put together a makeshift bed. It was an unspoken agreement that none of them wanted to be away from each other for any longer than they had to. Seven long, long years had been enough.

Bam splashed his face with cool water, washing the stress and excitement of the day down the drain. When he looked up at the mirror, he almost jumped from shock. He was smiling, small but genuine, and it was the first time he had seen his face like this in years. He didn’t look like Viole, he looked like Bam, someone he thought he had lost years ago.

Pushing his bangs out of his face, Bam looked into his own eyes and saw himself. Not the 25th Bam, the new Irregular out of his depth, or Jyu Viole Grace, the monstrous Slayer Candidate. He just saw Bam, the teammate, the friend, the person. Even with the needle glowing brightly behind him, he felt like a human, rather than the deity half the Tower wanted him to be. Unable to help himself, he let out a tiny giggle as his bangs fell back onto his face.

He had once asked Rachel what home was. After so long, he couldn’t quite remember what her response was. But maybe here, he thought, he had found the answer. Home is where you can be yourself and be loved for it.

There was a knock on the door and an, “Are you okay in there?” from Khun.

“Yeah!” Bam responded, quickly rubbing his face with a fluffy towel, “Almost done!”

When he came out, he saw that Rak and Khun had made what could only be called a nest on the ground. Rak looked supremely comfy swaddled in the giant pile of soft blankets and pillows. There were a couple of candles laying about that could only be Khun’s doing. They matched the red color of Bam’s needle, but their soft glow and scent were far more soothing.

“What was so funny in there?” Khun asked from where he was throwing another blanket over Rak, much to the crocodile’s protestations. 

“Nothing,” Bam said as Khun raised his eyebrow and Rak scrambled out from beneath his fuzzy trap, “I’m just really, really happy.”

Both of his friends stopped, twin looks of something like awe on their faces, before they smiled and Khun said, “Good, now get over here.”

“Yes, sir!” Bam exclaimed, before taking a running leap at the pile, dragging Khun down with him as he did. Truly, this is what all his training had been preparing him for.

Khun spluttered loudly in his arms as Bam and Khun laughed breathlessly. After pushing Bam on top of a squawking Rak, Khun got comfortable, settling under the blankets. Rak shoved Bam in between the two of them and put his scaly head in the crook of Bam’s arm. 

“This way I can make sure no one steals my prey,” he informed them.

Bam grasped Rak’s claws in one of his hands and squeezed, “Thanks Rak. I knew I’d be safe with you.”

Rak huffed, “Of course you are, Black Turtle! I am Rak Wraithraiser and you are my prey! Nothing will keep us apart!”

He covered himself in a thick blue throw and nuzzled further into the nest, his breaths turning quickly into snores. Bam chuckled quietly before turning his head. Khun was on his side, head tucked into his elbow, looking at them both fondly. There was a comfortable silence as they stared at each other, each drinking in the presence of their dear friend.

“Hi,” said Bam.

“Hey, yourself,” Khun replied, “He missed you, you know. He never really believed you were dead. He always told us, “Someone strong enough to be my prey could never die just like that!” I still can’t make myself believe he’s actually right.”

“Well,” Bam swallowed at the intensity in Khun’s eyes, “I’m right here.”

“You are,” Khun smiled, cupping Bam’s face with one hand, thumb gently caressing his cheek, “And I have never been more glad for anything.”

The words, accompanied by the soft touch, made Bam’s cheeks heat up. He couldn’t put into words how precious this person in front of him was. Khun had fought harder than anyone to get him back, and even before he knew Bam was alive, he was still devoted to keeping his wish. No one had ever done something like that for him, no even Rachel, who had given him light.

Bam took Khun’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each of his fingertips gently. This time it was Khun’s turn to blush, and Bam watched as it went all the way to the tips of his ears. In a fit of inspiration, Bam kissed the tip of Khun’s nose, making his friend squeak and get impossibly brighter.

“You’re here,” Bam whispered, kissing Khun’s forehead, before gazing deep into his suspendium eyes, “And I have never been more glad for anything.”

Khun opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Rak’s voice rumbled from Bam’s other side, making both of them jump.

“Go to bed, mushy turtles,” he commanded, before quickly dropping back to sleep, snores once more filling the room. Bam and Khun, looked at each other, breaking into hushed laughter.

Bam once more took Khun’s hand, brushing a soft kiss against the knuckles and intertwining their fingers.

“Goodnight, Khun-ssi,” he whispered, letting his head fall against the pillow and eyes droop closed.

He drifted off to sleep to the soft promise of, “Goodnight, Bam. See you in the morning”.

[Guess what arc I finished. Gonna edit it before putting it on ao3 and maybe add another chapter]

[imagine-loki]

Feels like Death

TITLE: Feels Like Death CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One shot AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine unexpectedly getting your period and having to explain it to Loki. RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 here

It was a series of unfortunate events that had you in your current situation.  You writhed in your bed, trying to find some position that was remotely comfortable.  But everything hurt.  It didn’t just hurt.  Hurt was too weak of a word for the aching cramps in your abdomen, the ones in your back.  You felt sick, nauseous, fevered and chilled at the same time.  

You shifted again in your bed, though this position was no better than the last one had been. You felt like you were laying in a pool of your own blood.  That may have actually been more comfortable than the tampon that felt like a rolling pin shoved up a very uncomfortable place and the pad that felt like laying in a wet diaper.  

Everything reeked and hurt and gods, you felt like you were dying. Or at least that ripping out your uterus yourself would feel less painful than what it was doing to you.  It had been months since it had been this bad.  The medication you were on usually kept you from even having periods most months.  This month was different.  You’d missed a dose of the shot while you were on a mission with the team.  You’d caught up on it later, but it hadn’t been enough.  Plus you were due for a real period.  

You groaned as you reached for the bottle of pain pills.  You were going to have to take them dry.  Getting up to get water was out of the question with how awful you felt.  

“Miss, breakfast is ready,” Jarvis announced.

That made you groan louder and curl into a tighter ball.  “Fuck off, Jarvis,” you grumbled as you whimpered in pain.  You weren’t going anywhere.

There was a pause where you could practically feel the AI’s offense at your words.  “Shall I tell the others you are sick?” He asked too politely.  Yup, he was pissed.

Somehow, you couldn’t find enough fucks to care. 

Fuck.  

Loki.

Loki didn’t know about periods as far as you were aware.  You’d been dating him for a few months now, but hadn’t had to tell him about this unfortunate part of being a midgardian female.  You last period had been before you’d started dating.  

He was going to freak out if he found you curled in a ball in your bed unable to move.

You tried to sit up, you wouldn’t have long before he came to try to find you if you didn’t show up for breakfast.  He worried over you during the best of times.  While you were skilled enough to be on the team, you still weren’t a god of Asgard.  You usually bickered with him that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself, and had even handed his ass to him in the training room before, but today you knew he wouldn’t listen or believe you.  

You managed to get to a mostly sitting position before the pain got too bad and you fwumped back among the pillows with a whimper of pain.  

There was a polite tap on your door.  “Darling?” Loki asked, concern in his voice.  Jarvis probably ratted on you for cussing at him.  Fucking stupid AI.  

Fuck.  You were out of time and still had no idea how to explain.

“Loki, I-“ you paused.  You couldn’t lie to Loki, even though a closed door he would be able to smell your lie.  You sighed and laid your head back down. 

“Darling?  May I come in?” Loki asked more insistently when you didn’t answer properly.  

You groaned something in reply.  Or just groaned in pain.  You couldn’t quite be sure which.  Regardless, Loki took your groan as permission to enter and opened your room’s door.  You looked up at him when he came in.  He was perfectly handsome as ever, even in the Midgardian clothes he’d taken to wearing after you’d finally convinced him that most people on Midgard didn’t wear court clothes from Asgard.  Or tunics.  Despite how hot he looked in them.  He’d worn sexy suits for two weeks straight after that just for spite.  Today he was wearing perfectly tailored jeans and a green shirt, his raven hair was down as he usually wore it, reaching just past his shoulders.

It wasn’t fair that he looked so stunning while you felt and looked like shit warmed over.  Your hair was a mess, you were too pale, soaked in sweat and beyond gross as you were bundled in your bed and blankets. You felt like death and you were sure you looked just as bad.  

You were extra sure about that point when Loki rushed over to your side, sitting on the edge of your bed and reaching for one of your hands. “Darling? What’s wrong?  Are you ill?” He asked you gently as he reached with his other hand to touch your forehead and cheeks, checking you for a fever.  

You blushed at the question.  Fuck.  You would have to tell him.  “It’s that time of the month,” you told him, hoping against hope that he would understand what the phrase meant.  You didn’t know if Asgardian women went through the same monthly woes as human women did.  Loki’s blank look made your heart drop and you fought not to groan, even as you curled in on yourself, whimpering in pain.  

“Darling, please,” Loki begged, hating seeing you in pain or hurting.  He cared too much for you.  This wasn’t an injury or a foe he could fight and he didn’t know how to help. ���I don’t understand,”

You sighed and looked up at him.  Words fell from you in what you hoped was a coherent manner. “You get an abbreviated explanation since I feel like death,” you warned him.  He nodded his agreement, willing to accept whatever explanation you were willing and able to give him, any hint of how to help you. “Every month a woman bleeds from her vagina for a few days if she’s not pregnant. It hurts like hell, there’s a lot of blood, and cramping, and I feel like I’m dying~” you whined that last as your words became incomprehensible.  

Loki squeezed your hand as he took in that information.  You weren’t sure if he was as squeamish as mortal men, but he definitely accepted your words.  “What can I do for you?” He asked you gently.  He hated seeing you like this, you saw that much in his eyes.  

You didn’t know where to start. You were gross and hurting and so very gross and just wanted to sleep and you couldn’t.  “I should bathe, and change clothes, and the sheets, and find more paint meds, and…” you trailed off, babbling again.  Gods, you needed to control your tongue.

Loki gave you a gentle smile.  “Then allow me to help you, my love,” he told you gently.  You nodded weakly, unable to do more than mew and let him care for you.  He placed his hand against your forehead, the other against your abdomen where the pain was worst. His cold skin felt fantastic and you sighed in relief.  His hands started glowing green with his magic and you sagged with a moan as the pain eased, the cramps eased.  At least momentarily.  

“I love you,” you told him, not having other words for how amazing it felt to get some relief.  

Loki chuckled.  “And I love you, dearheart,” he said warmly.  That done, he carefully unbundled you from your blankets and lifted you into his arms bridal style.

“Loki?” You asked, though you didn’t fight him, your arms going around his neck automatically.

“Let me take care of you, darling,” he said gently instead of actually answering.  He carried you into your bathroom and you saw that he had magicked you a hot bath, filled with some kind of floral herbs you couldn’t recognize, but they smelled soothing and relaxing.  Loki vanished your clothes before you could protest.  “It isn’t as if I do not know what you look like,” he reminded you.  You’d had plenty of sex with him.  He was fantastic at it, after all, so of course he knew very well what you looked like.  He set you carefully in the bath and you sighed in relief.  

“This is amazing,” you said in a purr as you sank back and relaxed.  

“Soothing herbs from Asgard,” Loki told you with a warm smile.  He knelt next to the tub and slowly began to wash you.  You tried to protest that you didn’t need to be bathed like a child, but it felt so nice to not have to think or take care of yourself when you felt so much like shit.  “Let me care for you,” he repeated when you tried to protest. 

You were so strong most of the time.  It was hard to let your guard down, even to him, but you nodded and let him care for you. You knew he wouldn’t hurt or betray you, or think any less of you for the condition you were in.

He massaged your scalp as he washed your hair and you moaned in pleasure.  “You have magic hands,” you told him with a purr, relaxed and putty in his hands.  

Loki chuckled. “Yes, darling.  I’m quite aware,” he said warmly.  You could tell he enjoyed this, enjoyed this simple caring.  He was glad you trusted him when you were vulnerable.  

You don’t know how long you were in the bath.  Loki left you there for a bit to relax in the hot water and let the herbs from Asgard work their magic on you.  He eventually returned and helped you out of the bath.  “Are you up for getting breakfast?” He asked you gently as he used magic to dry you.  Soft fluffy pajamas formed around you and you sighed in relief.  You were comfortable for the first time since your period had started.

You looked up at him and fought back the nausea.  “I’m not sure…” you said, feeling queasy.  You wrapped your arms around his waist to lean on him and let him support you.  You really did feel like death and just wanted to curl up in your bed again.  

“Can you try?” He asked gently, pressing a kiss to your hair.  He knew perfectly well that you needed food to keep your strength up.  You sighed heavily, but nodded.  You couldn’t deny Loki anything.  

He helped you shuffle down to the common room, holding and supporting you, but not carrying you, as he knew you would hate to appear weak in front of the rest of the team.  They all looked up at you when you came in and all of them were on guard when they saw you, clearly concerned. They never saw you at less than your best, even when bleeding from injuries on missions.  

Yet, your own fucking body was taking you out of commission because it couldn’t behave and give you a break.  

You held onto Loki tighter, not wanting to explain, not wanting to deal.  “She feels like death,” he told the team, drawing the attention to himself.  The look in his eyes clearly told them all that they weren’t to question it or harass you.  They would be facing his wrath if they did.

You loved him even more for that. 

Loki led you to the dining room, past the team, and helped you sit down at the table there.  He brought you breakfast and you laughed when you realized that it was his favorite: pancakes.  Of course he thought pancakes would fix everything.  They were among his favorite Midgardian food, so he thought everyone should like them as much as he did.  

“Thank you,” you said, cheered up by his adorable love of pancakes.  You took a couple of bites before the nausea crept back up.  Loki took your free hand and started telling you stories.  He distracted you from the nausea so you could eat.  You had a feeling a bit of magic was involved too

Somehow the pancakes were gone and you were full and happy for the first time in any period you’d ever had.  Loki got you safely back past the team and to your own bed.  The sheets and blankets had been magically cleaned.  He slid into the bed next to you and pulled you into his arms.  He held you close, stroking your hair and telling you stories until you fell asleep in his arms, feeling as good as you could, with your body turned against you.

He continued to care for you through every moment of your misery, through the pain and nausea, suffering through all your symptoms and soothing them all away, until you could finally be yourself again.  

And you loved him all the more for every ounce of love and care he gave you those days.

[themysteriousphoenix]

A Nighttime Journey

This is an old, old prompt (from October!) given to me by @silvertonedwords. The prompt was from THIS LIST of prompts. I was given number 14, “nighttime journey.”

Moonlight shone down on the empty dirt road. It was late. It was quiet. A single man in a battered, mustard-yellow waistcoat appeared with a barely audible pop, landing in the grass near the tree line. His eyes were sharp as he looked around, watching for company. Newt Scamander, after years of watching for danger and tracking beasts, was quite adept at spotting what most others would not.

Creeping up to the road, his boots scuffling softly in the dirt, Newt set off for home with only the light of the moon to guide him. This was a practiced journey now, and it was best traveled at night. Danger lurked all around him most days, and he was finally on his way to the only place he felt safe. Years of war had put his senses on edge, and he was ready to let down his guard a little for the first time in several days. He was tired. He was always tired now.

It was a surprisingly clear night, a few fluffy clouds danced in the light of the nearly-full moon, and Newt allowed himself to look up at the constellations above his head. His sharp, green eyes traced the memorized shapes of Draco, Cygnus, Aquila… They were familiar, constant, and a little calming; he realized they brought him back to nights of safety at Hogwarts, huddled under a blanket as he charted them from the Astronomy Tower with Leta. Distant, sad memories, now. He walked on, the summer breeze becoming slightly colder as it pushed his messy fringe back from his forehead.

Atop a hill, Newt stopped and looked down into an empty clearing below him. The moon shone on a wide expanse of grass, a rolling area cut out of the trees that stretched back to the small brook in the distance. He reached into his coat, pulling his wand out of hiding. Newt closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again. He smiled widely as a white cottage edged with white fencing, several small outbuildings, and a large garden came into view.

As Newt entered the front gate and let it fall closed behind him with a creak, he could smell the flowers that had been potted near the front door and under the windows. They were new. They must have been planted in the last four days since he had last been here. A single light shone in the window on the second floor, dim and welcoming.

Quietly, Newt unlocked the front door with a wave of his wand and let himself in, closing the door tightly behind him and replacing the security spell. It was dark in the entryway, but the light from the next floor was enough for him. He slipped his wand back into the holster at his hip and, with practiced agility, silently began to climb the wooden stairs. He could hear a voice now, a single, soft voice that was coming from the illuminated doorway to the right of the stairs.

Newt was captivated by the sight before him. In the light of a single lamp was his everything. Tina was sitting in a wooden rocking chair, her hair tangled and her eyes puffy and tired. She wore the same blue housecoat that she had brought with her from America four years ago, even more worn and ragged now than it had been the first time he had seen her wear it. She was singing a song as she rocked, her eyes watching the small bundle in her arms. The song was in Hebrew. Newt didn’t know what the words meant as they slipped softly and with practiced ease from her lips, but he knew it was probably a song that her father had sang to her when she was young. One finger brushed the fuzzy, dark hair over the baby’s ear in a repetitive motion as she rocked.

He watched from the shadows of the doorway until she finished, his shoulders relaxing and his heart clenching at the view before him. Here he could finally be free of the dangers of the outside world. He was home. He stepped into the room and Tina looked up toward him.

“You’re home.” Words that held surprise, relief, and care, all at once. She smiled tiredly up at him as he walked toward the rocking chair, kneeling next to her on the floor.

“I missed you,” she whispered as he leaned over to kiss her gently on the lips. He rested his forehead against her temple as he lifted one hand to caress her cheek.

“I missed you, too, love. Very much.” He looked down at the bundle in her arms where dark blue eyes stared attentively up at him. Eyes that looked just like Tina’s; eyes that Newt hoped would fade into a dark, fiery brown as beautiful as her mothers’.

“Why are we still awake, my little one?” The baby in Tina’s arms was wide awake, her eyes were alert and a single arm that had escaped from her swaddle was waving slowly through the air, her little hand grasping and unclenching at nothing. At the added attention, she let out a coo and a grunt as she blinked up at them. Newt reached out and placed his first finger into her hand where it was gripped tightly.

Tina leaned back and kissed his cheek. “She was waiting for her Papa, I guess,” she whispered into his ear. Newt smiled widely, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s face. He released a deep breath and slowly rose to his feet.

“C’mere.”

Tina rolled the rocking chair forward and stood, meeting her husband and sinking into the comfort of his arms, their child between them.

“I’m so glad to be home. Four days is far too long,” Newt whispered as Tina rested her cheek on his shoulder.

“Were you able to find it?” She asked, mumbling the question into the fabric of his jacket.

“I was. Dumbledore was very pleased.”

Tina snorted lightly, “He’d better be-- and he’d better let you stay home for at least a few weeks before sending you off to Mercy knows where again.”

Newt chuckled as he leaned his head against his wife’s. “I told him just that not two hours ago. I’m needed here right now. No more trips for a while.”

“Good.”

They stood like that for quite a while, Newt rocking the three of them lightly and rhythmically. Tina leaned on his shoulder, breathing deeply and evenly, and their daughter gripped his finger as her eyes finally began to soften.

Tina yawned, breaking the peaceful moment before snuggling more closely into Newt’s shoulder. He chuckled again, rubbing her back where he held her. “Go to bed. It’s late.”

“Yes, but you just got home.” 

“--and I will be here when you wake up,” he whispered. “Go.”

Tina sighed deeply and kissed his shoulder. “Mm, okay, fine.” She grinned tiredly up at him and leaned forward for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tina gently transferred the baby to Newt’s waiting arms before leaning down and kissing her forehead gently. “--and I love you, my darling,” Tina whispered as her knuckle gently caressed her child’s soft cheek. She stood up straight and began walking from the room. She waved at Newt from the doorway before making her way back down the dark hallway to their bedroom.

“Goodnight,” Newt said to her quietly as she slipped from the room. His attention fell to the child in his arms. She squirmed as she tried to get comfortable, letting out a single cry in the silence.

“Sh-sh-sh,” he whispered as he rocked her in his arms, “Shh, I’ve got you, Papa’s got you.” Newt shuffled over to the painted rocking chair in the corner, a gift from Uncle Jacob, and slowly lowered himself into it, rocking forward and backward steadily. The baby seemed to settle a little in his arms as she struggled to find sleep.

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” he asked softly as he continued the comforting motion, “I’ve been on quite a journey for Dumbledore this week. I missed you and your mother terribly, but I found some truly interesting things while I was away.” Newt’s gentle voice rose and fell as he began to tell of wanderings through the woods, spellwork, and searches for old books. His daughter’s eyes drifted closed as he spoke of a meeting with a very odd old witch who had been determined to ‘fatten him up’ before she would allow him to leave her rickety, stone cottage. He continued his tale, rocking gently, as he held his child in his arms. Even after he was done speaking he continued rocking.  He watched her sleeping, her cheek pressed against his chest as she breathed deeply.

He was home, and he was staying. War might be raging outside, but he was needed here. The rest of the world could wait.

[wichols]

May I request Hikaru for fluff “You know I have feelings for you, right?”

This ask has probably been sitting in my inbox for about a month. And it sat that long cause I wanted to give it the attention it deserved. The last fluff I wrote reeked of angst and I wanted this to be all fluff. And I can confidently say that this is indeed 100% fluff and 0% angst. I know some of you were really sad about my last post of HikaHaru (Disgust and Devotion). Let’s consider this an apology for writing that. Timeline speaking this would happen before Disgust and Devotion. Shout out to @amoreosalina for helping me get the right amount of Italian sprinkled throughout this one-shot!

Fashion and Feelings

Pairing: Hikaru x Haruhi Word Count: 2,700

“She should be here by now,” Hikaru grumbled, tossing his phone back onto the table. “What’s taking so long?” His fingers deftly pushed the needle through the delicate fabric, adding another bead onto the bodice. “Fangul. (fuck)”

Light poured through the large wall of windows of the studio while fluffy white clouds hung effortlessly against the clear blue sky. A plethora of immaculately dressed mannequins lined the wall of exposed brick, ready for a final inspection.

Turning his attention back to the lilac chiffon dress pooled atop the workbench he continued to mutter to himself. “It has to look perfect. She deserves my best work.” His hands moved with ease adding more beads and removing the last of the pins holding the pleats in place, doing his best to pour his all into his final piece- though this one is reserved for someone more special than a model.

Haruhi watched with bated breath as she leaned against the door frame, not having the heart to interrupt Hikaru from his work. Her eyes followed his hands as they diligently worked with the fabric. Though it was not often she was able to witness him working it was always a treat to see him come alive in the studio, his body trained for fashion excellence. The flight from Boston to Milan was exhausting but the prospect of a week away from school and reuniting with her friends was enough for her to push through her final assignments and her current exhaustion to enjoy what little time they had together.

Glancing one last time at the completed piece Hikaru sighed with contentment, allowing himself to smile widely at the finished dress. “Perfecto.”

“An awful lot of space for just one person. It never amazes me how much space you think you need.” Haruhi giggled from the doorway, finally catching Hikaru’s attention.

“You made it!” His childlike giddiness getting the better of him as he practically rushed over towards the door, lifting Haruhi up into a hug.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She wheezed under his hold, allowing her bag to drop carelessly to the ground. “How could I say no when you threatened to come to Boston yourself just to drag me here yourself?”

Releasing her from his hold, he placed her back onto solid ground before smirking. “We all know how one-track-minded you get with school, besides if it wasn’t me it would have been.”

“Tamaki.”

“Tamaki.” He watched her body shiver at the thought before she leaned down to retrieve her bag.

“Good point.” Shifting her weight to shoulder her bag she stepped further into the studio.

“Here, I can take that.” Hikaru gestured towards her bag.

Reluctantly she handed it over and followed him towards the work desk.

Depositing the bag on the bench, he cocked a brow back at her. “Is this all you brought?” He asked, looking between Haruhi and the bag.

“I have known you long enough Hikaru Hitachiin to know that you probably already have three suitcases stuffed full of things I will be forced into this week. So yes, my one bag is all I brought so that I have enough hands to drag whatever you have for me back home.”

“Bella, and just when I thought you couldn’t get any smarter, there you go again.” Smiling, he pointed towards the clothing rack against the wall filled with colorful patterns and miscellaneous sized boxes. “You caught me.”  Anything for you, my love.

“You are only making more work for yourself when you do things like this. When did you even have time to pick all of this out?”

“You make time for the important things.” He sighed quietly as he watched her hold up a summer dress dotted with small flowers- that’s one of my favorites.

“What’d you say?” The light clinking and slide of the hangers filling the space between them.

“It wasn’t all me, you know as well as I do how mother feels about dressing up her favorite little doll.” He cooed before gliding his hand over the soft materials hanging at the end of the rack.

Skeptically she placed another cream colored blouse back onto the rack. “Right.”

It’s not like it was a total lie. His mother did pick out things but they were neatly folded and already placed into their own suitcase. This rack was all his doing, but he would never tell her that. “So what do you think?”

“It all looks nice but you know you guys know you don’t have to keep doing things like this just for me.”  

“I know but we are just as stubborn as you are.”

“Thanks. And tell your mother thanks in case I miss her in the business of this weekend, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

Leaving the rack of clothing Haruhi walked back over to the workstation to admire the work she interrupted with her arrival. “This is really beautiful Hika.” Her hands glided across the fabric fluttering over the edge of the table. “Is this the last look?”

Hikaru felt his heartbeat quicken as he watched her admire his work. Without even knowing she had given him the affirmation he needed to unravel his heart to her. Walking up behind her he watched over her shoulder as she lightly held onto the chiffon. “Well, as much as I would like it to be, I’m afraid this one wasn’t meant for the runway.”

Haruhi glanced at the line of mannequins and back at the dress before looking over her shoulder confused. “What do you mean this isn’t the last look? It’s beautiful, it deserves to be seen by everyone.”

“Oh really?” He grinned back at her.

“Yes really.” Turning to face him she lightly pressed her finger into the center of his chest. “You don’t mean to tell me that you had extra time to make this and not put it into the show?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but I don’t have an extra body on hand to model this specific piece for the show.” He knew he was cornering her into an unsuspecting trap but he just couldn’t resist pushing her buttons- just a little bit more.

“You are Hikaru Hitachiin, eldest son to the Hitachiin brand! You mean to tell me that you couldn’t find even one person to come in and wear this?”

“Are you volunteering? Because if I recall, I am indeed Hikaru Hitachiin and I did happen to pay for someone to come and wear this piece.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to walk the show but I would be honored if you wore this and accompanied me down the carpet.”

“I can’t wear this! It was meant for someone with a totally different body type. I would practically be swimming in all this fabric.”  

“Well if my last set of measurements for you are still accurate then you shouldn’t be unless you’ve decided to drastically change your body within the last six months.” He was practically giggling as he watched her come to the realization.

“My measurements?”

“Yes, dear, your measurements.”

Turning back around to face the dress she clutched her hands to her chest. “You made this for me?” Her head was swimming as her eyes examined the dress again.

“I couldn’t resist.” His hands twitched as he fought the urge to wrap them around her small frame and snuggle into her tousled hair. Her reaction made it nearly impossible to maintain what little self control he had left.

“You shouldn’t have.” Her voice felt so small in the openness of the studio. She felt her heart begin to betray her composed exterior.

“So is that a yes?”

Haruhi could hear the smile in his voice as he asked. “How am I supposed to say no?”

“If you want there are a few options hanging up on the rack if you would feel more comfortable in something else.” He didn’t want to reveal how his feelings cracked at the thought of her denying his gift as his eyes raked over the garments hanging across the room. “But I will say I will look pretty silly in what I made for myself if you pick something else.” Using humor to try and break the tension of his question. “And if you do decide to wear it I will need to see if I need to make any last minute changes.”

“I think it would be a travesty if no one but you and I were the only ones to see this.” She picked up the dress with care looking around the room. “Changing room?”

“You could always just get dressed in front of the mirror.” He snickered, wiggling his eyebrows back at her. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Har, har, har. Don’t you get enough time looking at half naked bodies?” She deadpanned back at him.

“If you insist.” He tisked, placing a hand at the small of her back he led her to the adjoining room with a partition placed near the corner. “You can change behind here and I can help you with the zipper once you are finished.”

Disappearing behind the partition Haruhi popped back out to wag her finger at him, giving him one final warning. “No peeking.”

“I promise.” Holding his hands up to placate the female’s warning.

Tossing the dress over the top of the partition Haruhi looked at the small box set on the bench placed against the wall. “Most people would be creeped out by someone other than a significant other who bought them lingerie.”

“If that were the case you wouldn’t have any underwear, though I am not opposed to that idea.” He watched her silhouette move behind the partition, letting his imagination wonder. “Can’t have you wearing that dress with just anything underneath, my mother would scold me the entire time on our trip back to Japan.”

Flipping open the box she exchanged her well worn undergarments for the newly purchased ones. “Nice choice,” she remarked at the blush colored lace.

“I thought you might approve. I have a whole other set left out with the other clothes so you have a fresh set this weekend.”

“And what per se are you going to do with my other clothes this time?”

“Well, the last time I burned them and you about choked the life out of me. I would rather not have a repeat of that particular event. Turns out being choked is not my thing.”

Haruhi couldn’t help but giggle at his admission. “Glad to see physical violence was the right choice to get my point across.” Slipping her arms through the off the shoulder sleeves and tightening her hold on the bodice she walked to the edge of the partition turning her back towards the open room. “Zipper please and no peeking.”

“Fine. Fine. No peeking. But it’s going to be kind of hard to find the zipper without my eyes. I might just have to feel around to find it.”

She felt his hands lightly trace down her exposed skin fumbling for the zipper. “We both know that you could do this blindfolded and with one hand.”

“You’re probably right but where’s the fun in that?” His hands gilded the zipper up with ease giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “All ready! Now out to the podium for inspection.”

The deep side slit fluttered open, revealing the smooth skin of her exposed leg, as she followed behind Hikaru back towards the main room of the studio. Taking her place on the podium she watched in the three panel mirror as he moved swiftly around the room flicking on switches and grabbing a pin cushion. The fullness of the gown pooled around her feet before she lifted it lightly allowing it to fall more naturally into its proper resting place. This might just be his best work yet.

“Faccia bella.” He could hear his heart practically pounding out of his chest as he finally allowed himself to look at Haruhi in all of her glory. Her skin glowed under the white lights of the box lights making her look like an ethereal fairy basking in the light of the moon. The dress clung to her body like a second skin, a nearly perfect fit.

“Hikaru?”

A quiet voice bringing him back into reality, eyes snapping to the woman staring at him in the mirror.

"What are you staring at? Is something wrong with the dress?" Glancing down at the gown, she twirled slowly to face him. “Is it not how you thought it would look on me?”

“What? No, its perfect.” The pincushion slipped from his hand, forgotten as he walked up to her.

“Oh good!” Stepping off the podium she did a small twirl. “It doesn’t need any alterations?”

“No alterations needed. You’re perfect.” His eyes shined brightly as he took her hand, placing a gentle kiss upon her knuckle.

Haruhi’s cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as she watched his eyes rake up and down her body. “I don’t want to upstage you at your own show.”

"No matter how long its been, you are still as oblivious as ever."

"What is that supposed to mean? Am I missing something?"

Grabbing her other hand he watched her eyes searching his. All self-control be damned. If he was going to unravel his heart he was going to do it right. Leaning in he watched her eyes for any signs of hesitation. His lips stopped just far enough away to feel her taking shallow breaths. "It has to be obvious now. You know I have feelings for you right? I mean come on Haruhi. I have been chasing after you the moment you walked into the club room. No matter how far apart we are I can't get you out of my mind. The only thing I ever think about is you."

Haruhi’s eyes flicked between his lips and his golden eyes. What is he waiting for? “Hikaru?”

Bending down ever so slightly he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers. It was everything he ever wanted. Just a moment. Just one moment. All he had wanted for the past three years was for her to know exactly how he felt. And now here she was in Milan with him, wearing a dress inspired by her, and kissing him. It was pure and wonderful. “Woah.”

“Woah,” she responded back breathlessly.

Releasing her hands he brought his up to cradle her face, caressing the softness of her cheeks before pulling her in for another kiss. If this was going to be the only and last time he would be able to kiss her he was going to make the most of it.

She found herself responding to his kiss, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his back pulling him closer, deepening their kiss. Perhaps between school and work, she had found herself thinking of him too.

After a few more moments of pure bliss, he found himself giving her one final kiss before pressing his forehead against hers. He couldn’t help but smile as he tried to catch his breath. “Sorry, I just couldn’t go another moment without you knowing my feelings and after seeing you in the dress my heart was going to explode if I kept it in any longer.”

“Maybe I am a bit too oblivious for my own good sometimes.” Haruhi chuckled nervously.

Laughter bubbled up from his chest as he wrapped her up in a hug. “You don’t say?”

“A little.”

“I’ll take your kissing me back as a sign of your agreement to be my girlfriend. Do you agree to the terms?”

“And just what kind of terms are we dealing with with your proposed agreement?”

“Future lawyer-like as always. Well I guess it would be what we are doing now plus you get the benefit of now having a significant other who is really good at picking out lingerie. Deal?”

“Hmm, deal.”

“Does this mean I am allowed to peek now?”

“Just because I am your girlfriend now does not mean that my no peeking rule is redacted. Instead of acting like a respectable profession you now have to act as a respectable boyfriend.”

“ Merda (shit).”

[aurorafreerose]

Don’t Be Late- Ch 2

Summary- Bakugo and Uraraka go on a walk, but not before Ochaco gets flustered. 

Notes- Baku is so clueless while this cinnamon roll over here is an becoming an idiot in love aaaahhh also mild inappropriate-ness(?) but not real smut 

Writer’s note- I wrote this while listening to Do I Wanna Know by the Arctic Monkeys, Daddy Issues by the Neighborhood, and I Can’t Handle Change by R.O.A.R. Feel free to join in! 

Read on a03!

Ochaco, upon examining herself, found herself wearing a large blue gingham skirt with two layers of fluffy material, ruffles along the edges, a tightly drawn patterned corset, a blue bonnet tied to her head with a silk ribbon, and heavy white stockings leading to a pair of blue high-heeled, lace-up boots. She was holding a large white cane which had a small bell affixed to it, and it rang whenever she wasn't idle.

She was standing in a shockingly green field, and the sun's rays bounced off of her cheeks as she spotted something in the distance.

It was a herd of sheep, except they all had a pair of familiar slanted red eyes and wore rowdy blonde fur instead of their trademark white coats. The cluster reminded her of something- no, someone, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. They all growled at her when they saw her approaching, but gradually let down their guard, and soon, she was able to mingle about them with ease. Before she knew it, Uraraka was tending to a flock of slowly-growing-content Baku-sheep, and actually enjoying herself in the task.

Unfortunately, a soft beeping noise began to disrupt the comfortable routine she'd settled into. She looked around the field for the source of the noise ruining her satisfaction, but it only grew louder and louder, before-

Ochaco's eyes burst open. She was no longer in a field, but laying horizontally across her bed. The sight of a still-beeping alarm clock, the source of the annoying noise that haunted her dreams, greeted her dreary eyes. Her right hand, almost as if it was on cue, slammed the button off. Adjusting to the jarring morning daylight that was peeking through the shutters, Ochaco rubbed her eyelids and leaned forward to check the time.

No way.

10:30??

Oh, no. Oh no, no, no...

Starting to panic, she slipped off the edge, landing uncomfortably in the small gap between her bed and her drawer. Ochaco violently grabbed the alarm clock to examine its contents, hoping what she read was merely an extension of the absurdity clouding her dreams. She grasped the clock, drawing it closer to her eyes in order to confirm what she really hoped, for her own sake, wasn't true.

The universe had no such luck for her in store. The clock still read half-past-ten, and Ochaco was now filled with dread. Realizing her brain had tuned out the clock's irritating beeping noises in her jumbled hurry, she pressed one finger to the button and subsequently jumped out of her bed, imagining obscenities she wouldn't be caught dead saying out loud.  

She hurried over to her bathroom and brushed her teeth hurriedly while simultaneously splashing water on her face. Then, Ochaco pulled on an outfit not too dissimilar from the one her new sparring partner had worn yesterday; with cerulean athletic shorts that were slightly too tight and a cropped black tank top made out of a light, breathable fabric, you could almost say they were coordinated. In the rush to conserve time, Ochaco didn't realize this in the moment, but she would regret the choice her subconscious had made on her behalf soon enough.  

Grabbing a small black duffel bag that she thankfully had the foresight to pack the previous night, the frantic girl stuffed her feet into a pair of old, worn-out sneakers and threw on a cozy gray sweatshirt. She rushed out of her room, slamming the door with a loud shut behind her. Running as fast as she could down the halls of the girls' dorm, she glanced at her watch.

It was already 10:42?

After what seemed like an eternity, she threw herself down the stairs, stopped halfway to catch her breath, and finally entered the common room.

She didn't particularly want to examine her surroundings, but her eyes seemed to make the trip upwards on their own.

They landed upon a boy with unkempt fluffy blonde hair, about 6'2, leaning with one arm resting on a quartz pillar. He, too, was wearing a tank top, and it was accenting his tantalizing body nicely. Her eyes darted to his abs, which were not concealed at all but instead closely hugging the extremely thin, yet tight, fabric of his top. She could see his rock-hard, roughly carved muscle, the product of lots of intense work. His well-defined arm muscles were plainly visible; his biceps were all but perfectly sculpted, but what really caught her eye were the sharp, angular veins that bulged prominently down his arms. She followed their trail all the way down to his hands, where his veins were most noticeable; they accented his hands nicely, complimenting his long, slender fingers, all of which were about 4.5 inches (she guessed). They were scarred all over, no doubt due to previous fights. His right hand's ring finger and forefinger both sported bare silver bands, while his left's middle finger wore a plain gold one.

It was just a few seconds, but she realized her eyes were greedily drinking in his appearance only when a rough, loud voice snapped her out of her hypnotic trance.

"Oi, what the fuck are you just standing there for?"

Bakugo was staring back at her with a look of disgust, which she assumed was in response to the fact that she had stood at the bottom of the stairs, just looking at him, for a good number of seconds. Heat rushed to her face, and her body turned slightly inwards as she stared at her shoes, too embarrassed to make eye contact with him.

"Anyways," he continued angrily, not appearing to grasp the implications of what had just happened. "You're late. What the fuck did I tell you yesterday? And don't think you can get away with this easily, Angel Face. I woke up on time just to meet you here, and you pull this shit?"

Ochaco's face remained heavily flushed. She still couldn't bring herself to speak to him, mainly because her brain was in overload trying to decipher the events of thirty seconds ago.

"Yes," she wanted to yell back at him, "why was I just standing there? I'm not that kind of person! I'm not like... like Mineta or anything!" she thought, going from bashful to downright indignant. "

Wait, he didn't notice that, so who am I arguing with? I know that I'm not! And it's not like there's anything really special about you, Bakugo, anyway," she thought resentfully.

"I only asked you because you were the one who suggested it in the first place! Bakugo's rude, cocky, disrespectful, inconsiderate, not to mention always angry for no good reason, always! He was kind of like...an angry little Pomeranian."

The tiniest of smiles harbored Ochaco's lips as she raised her face to meet Bakugo's irritated gaze. The thought of him as a tiny puppy who was rapidly barking at everyone had momentarily distracted her from her sentiments. This wasn't lost on him, however.

"Fuck are you smiling at, cheeks?"

"Oh, nothing." She realized that Bakugo wasn't actually angry with her; he was just mildly annoyed. He was just expressing any emotion that verged on the edge of anger with a lot of yelling. Their height difference was even more apparent as Bakugo happened to lay eyes upon a pair of large, doe-like eyes that were now looking up at him. His expression softened momentarily, his eyebrows raising upwards and his mouth dropping slightly open. He drew his face back into its usual trappings of anger, but for some strange reason, he seemed like his temper was evening out.

When he spoke to her, his voice was softer than it was only a few minutes previously. It had taken on an oddly calmer quality, which it suited the brash tones of his voice nicely; he still sounded angry, but just in a different font.

"It doesn't matter anyways," he said in a mollified kind of way, avoiding looking at her as he turned his head to glance in the opposite direction. He looked down at his steel-colored watch. "Damn it, 10:50 already? Let's go, Uraraka."

She nodded silently, not knowing why she didn't feel nearly as angry anymore.

They walked alongside each other on the stone path to the training rooms. For the first few minutes, they were silent. Bakugo firmly kept his hands in his pockets, his fingers jutting out at the sides from the awkward angle he'd inserted them in. He stared straight ahead, a weird mixture of concentration and grit on his face. Ochaco, on the other hand, had noticed his habit of sticking his fingers in his pockets. Then, she blushed, remembering how shamelessly she had admired the very same fingers earlier, and gotten both angry with and ashamed of her own mind. Soon, she was too subdued by her own confused head to even bother with initiating a conversation.

Bakugo, without taking his eyes off of the ground, asked Ochaco: "You figured out I wrote to you, didn't you?"

Ochaco, for the second time that day, snapped out of her self-imposed crisis. "W-what?"she replied, bemused.

"Don't fuck around, cheeks," he said, irritation creeping into his tone. "You figured out that I was the one who assigned to write to you in class?"

"Well," she responded, a smile beginning to appear on her face, her eyes crinkled and one hand touching her neck. "You're the only person I know who calls me Angel Face..."

[tallestsilver]

Disneyland Modern AU

For @littlelonghairedoutlaw‘s PotO AU Fic Contest! Summary: While at Disneyland, Christine is determined to make Erik have fun and figure out his favorite ride.  Rating: PG or K+  Ship: Erik/Christine kinda. More friendly than romantic  AU: Modern

“Erik, please at least try to enjoy yourself.”

A noncommittal exhalation of breath, too light to be a grunt, was the response. The dour look on Erik’s face only worsened as more people lined up behind them, becoming more crowded. “The ‘Happiest Place on Earth’, indeed,” he monotoned. 

Christine sighed in exasperation and rummaged through her petite backpack as the line moved a step closer to the entrance to the park. “Look, I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t like at least one-” she held up her index finger to emphasize her point, “-one thing at Disneyland.” She withdrew a set of plain Minnie Ears, complete with a pink bow and situated it on top of her head. It barely peaked out from her massive amount of fluffy curls, but it remained steadfast. “You cannot be serious with that ridiculous thing.”

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do!” “I have been to Rome and they certainly do not care about the doings of tourists. They would rather-” “Erik, it’s just an expression,” Christine said with a roll of her eyes as he continued muttering about barbarians. Perhaps this was not the best idea she had come up with. She was determined to have fun with Erik in one of her favorite places, but he always had to make things more difficult. His rotten mood would not spoil her magical day, and she was focused on making his day magical as well.

“You said you wanted to go with me,” she reminded him as she passed her ticket along to the taker. A scant, a delightful tinkling of approval, and she passed through the turnstile. 

She waited on the other side, watching Erik fidget with his hands and recheck his prosthetic nose, complete with fake mustache. He was overly anxious, she realized, with a sinking feeling. He was denied his mask, for they were not allowed in the park, and so he settled on some makeup and a detachable nose. Despite his disguise, he wore dark shades to try and hide himself as much as possible. 

Erik held his breath and passed through the turnstile, as if he was going to be tackled by security and thrown out of the Magic Kingdom, and worse yet, be tossed into California Adventure, but he passed through without any protestations. He exhaled in relief. “Well, now we’re here so let’s get on with it,” he said. Christine grinned and grabbed his arm. “First stop, the Mad Hatter’s!”

“WHAT?” 

Walking at a determined pace, but walking nevertheless, Christine pulled Erik by the elbow straight down Mainstreet. They passed by window panels that depicted scenes of various Disney movies. “These were my favorite as a kid,” she told him, imitating a grinning Ariel rocking back and forth. “They would release the whole movie in these little scenes for whatever came out that year. They stopped doing that, though…” 

Erik leaned in and inspected the window next to hers. Cinderella was waltzing with Prince Charming, the clock tower looming behind them. 

“Let’s go!” And he was yoinked away. Christine inhaled the intoxicating aromas wafting throughout the street as they headed toward Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. Confections enticing her with their sweet promises nearly stopped her in her tracks, but she had one thought in mind that she dare not tell Erik until they arrived in Fantasyland. “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” he declared as she held up a simple black Mickey hat. “Everyone gets one, Erik!” Christine said joyously. Despite his black sunglasses, she could feel his piercing gaze. 

“Christine, you’re wasting your time and your money.” She handed over the money to the cashier, who was eyeing Erik with uncertainty. “Ma’am, we have other hats that-” “Just ignore him. He’ll grow to love it.” “Would you like that embroidered?” “NO HE WOULD NOT,” Erik interjected. “Yes please! Erik, if you wouldn’t mind. That’s E-R-I-K. No ‘C’.” “We will do that in one moment!”

“Wonderful! Thank you!” 

The embroidery machine whirred to life as Christine turned back to Erik with a grin to match the Cheshire Cat’s above her. 

“Fie, a pox on both your houses,” he glowered at her, but she just continued to smile without regard to his fuming. 

“Hate me all you want, but this will help you blend in with everyone else.” She was handed the Mickey Ears, smartly embroidered in swirling yellow letters with “Erik”. She stood on her tip toes and snugly placed it on top of Erik’s head, securing the elastic bad around his chin. “There! You can throw it away after today, but for now, you’ll have plenty of Disney fun with me!”

He slumped his shoulders in defeat. “If I must…” “You must!” Christine told him cheerfully, because damn it all, she was going to make sure this day was fun for him. Even if it killed her. 

Or even if it killed him. 

At Christine’s insistence, they hit Fantasyland first, “since we’re already here,” she explained, “although Adventureland is the best, by far.” His arms were tightly folded on the Mad Tea Party Teacups, as Christine dutifully spun them faster and faster, laughing all the while. His sour disposition never faltered through Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, or King Arthur’s Carousel. Christine could have sworn she saw the slightest crack of a smile on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride upon their exit into Hell. But however quick it might have been, it vanished before she could have been certain. 

“Now I know this next one will be your favorite!” She cheered gleefully as they soared up and down through the air on Dumbo - 

“-a character who faced discrimination and torment on a daily basis until he had capital value,” Erik commented with a growl. 

Christine’s face fell as their Dumbo rose up into the air with the other elephants before making their descent. “You don’t have to put it like that…” she said softly. She shook her head, “no matter! Dumbo isn’t your favorite.”

As they exited the ride, she stuck her chin out defiantly and posed like Peter Pan. “We will find what you like today!”

Erik adjusted his dark glasses delicately, avoiding too much contact with his fake nose. “That’s highly unlikely.”

__________________________________________________________

By the afternoon’s end, Christine was in a slump. The cheer had been sapped from her, despite her earlier exuberance. She sat defeated on a bench in New Orleans Square, face cradled in her hands. Even her hair lost its usual fluffy bounce, and her curls were bedraggled. Erik approached her, holding two churros from the nearby cart. Christine made no acknowledgment of him. “Christine, I acquired the confection you demanded.”

She rotated her body away from him and focused on Tom Sawyer’s Island. She watched as the raft loaded with people and drifted away from them, toward the island.  

“Christine?”

She continued to ignore him and instead gazed at all the happy families, couples, and others enjoying their time in the park.

Erik stiffly sat beside her, his body rigid in a perfect posture, holding out the churros mechanically. He stared out alongside her, in the direction of her gaze.

“Christine, you are obviously upset, and it is highly likely that the variable that caused you to be upset is me.” He took an audible breath, and continued to stare straight ahead, but Christine shifted her gaze to him. “I cannot begin to rectify the situation and my behavior if all I can infer is that you are sullen.” 

Her mouth was set in a line, not willing to smile or frown. Yes, she was irritated with him, and this false way of apologizing without outright doing it grated on her nerves. At least he was trying to be a bit more considerate to her emotions.

“Yes, Erik, I’m ‘sullen.’ Any suggestion I have, you immediately turn it into something negative. I’m trying to show you something you’ll enjoy, but you keep nit-picking and draining all the fun out of it!” 

“That’s hardly the case-” Erik began to counter, but Christine cut him off. “-YES, it is!” She stuck out her hand and began counting on her fingers all the dismissals and critiques he had. “You hated Tomorrowland because you complained about all the outdated technology and how you could create better animatronics.”

“Why have a ride that is essentially recreating the traffic we experienced to even get to this park? It’s absurd!” “You didn’t like Space Mountain because you calculated the speed and scoffed at how slow it actually was.” “It’s all illusions, Christine. It’s only 28 miles per hour-” 

She shoved another finger in his face and she continued her infraction count, “- you were utterly disinterested in Big Thunder Mountain,” “-ain’t, Christine. Thar ain’t no way that would appeal to me. And the excavation of that Tyrannosaurus is completely ludicrous-” “-You were whining all throughout ‘Galaxy’s Edge’,” “I was just saying the Empire is a bunch of fascists and the Rebels are terrorists-” “IT’S STAR WARS, ERIK!!” Christine shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. “AND THEN when we went to Critter Country,” “-crawling with tiny children I might add-” “-you described the Winnie the Pooh ride as a fevered dream you had on opium once,” “-to be fair, it was a rather good dream-” “-and then you kept saying how exploitative Song of the South was and ruined Splash Mountain. HOW DID YOU MANAGE NOT TO GET WET? I’m STILL ringing out my hair and that was nearly an hour ago!” 

“One can take a measured approach to these things, my dear-”

“-AND you would not SHUT UP about how historically inaccurate Pirates of the Caribbean was!” “NO ONE,” Erik rose to his feet, “IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, HAS EVER WORN HATS THAT LOOK LIKE BUCKETS! THERE’S NO HISTORY HERE, CHRISTINE!”

Christine jumped to her feet and stood defiantly to Erik, despite him still looming over her, “IT’S A RIDE, ERIK! IT’S MAKE BELIEVE! PRETEND! IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE FUN!!”

“BUCKET-HATS!!”

As the two of them panted in their frustrations, a baby somewhere nearby began crying. Christine broke first and flopped back down on the bench with a groan. “I just wanted you to enjoy yourself.” She slowly removed her headband and traced her fingers over the Minnie Ears. “This place means so much to me… My Dad and I would-” her nose got that peculiar warm tickle that means tears were soon to follow. She shook her head to rid herself of that anguish. “Disneyland is just my happy place, and I wanted to share that with you, too.” Erik lowered himself down onto the ground, to look up at Christine as she fought her emotions. He removed his dark sunglasses to be more open with the woman sitting in front of him. “I have been having fun,” he told her softly. “Perhaps my enjoyment of things is more unconventional, but spending this day with you is more precious to me than anything else.” A half-smile appeared on her lips. “Crowds and all?” He offered her the churro as he rose from the ground to sit beside her. “Suffocating crowds and all.” 

Christine smiled into her churro, biting into it quietly as she and Erik sat in thought. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His entire body tensed and grew rigid at the sudden intimacy, but he slowly relaxed. He hesitantly lifted his arm, and with taking pause, wrapped it around Christine’s shoulders. Christine had nearly finished half of her churro before Erik finally tasted his own. The crispy sweet crust pairing with the fluffy light middle delighted him. “Christine!” He exclaimed, “these are incredible!” “Yeah, Erik. Disneyland churros are amazing. I always need to have one. OH! And the beignets, too.” “I don’t think you fully comprehend the magnificence of this pastry! It’s entirely delightful!” He took another bite, “sweet, but not overpowering!” Another bite. “The delicate taste of cinnamon!” Another, “the exquisite crunch with the decadent exterior!” 

Christine covered her mouth with her hand, struggling to keep from laughing at Erik’s sudden enthusiasm. As he continued exclaiming his delight, probably with more gusto for Christine’s benefit, the adhesive on his prosthetic nose began to disintegrate. Her amusement quickly turned into concern, knowing how poorly he would react if it fell off. “Erik,” Christine cautioned him, suddenly serious, “Erik, maybe you shouldn’t-” And that’s precisely when his nose fell into his lap. 

Erik yelped several octaves higher than Christine thought he was physically able to, clamping his hands over his face instinctively. His mustache hung limply above his thin lips, exposing the jagged scar of his former cleft palate that ran up to his nose cavity.

The cry made several people look in their direction, certainly not aiding in Erik’s mortification. “The poor guy dropped his churro!” Christine explained, putting on her Stage Voice and gesturing to the fallen delicacy. 

That seemed to satisfy the onlookers as Erik curled up on himself, hiding his face as best he could. Christine rubbed his hunched back soothingly as he silently suffered. “Shh, shh... Erik it’s okay! There’s a bathroom nearby where you can apply it again. Although honestly,” she said with a shrug, “no one will care if you don’t reapply it. There are so many people who come here with all different backgrounds and abilities that-” “Christine, save me your princess fairy tales for the moment,” Erik hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m more Victor Hugo’s Hunchback than Walt Disney’s, and people aren’t kind no matter where or when we are. Or perhaps I should just kidnap a princess into being my prisoner like some kind of Beast. That will turn out well!” 

Silenced by his sardonic words, Christine helped him to his feet, and hurried him along to the restrooms in New Orleans Square. They were mercifully close, and as Christine was just about to tell him as such, a small boy approached Erik. “Jack Skewwington!” He squealed gleefully, bouncing up and down, pointing at Erik and back at his shirt that displayed the character. 

Christine had to bite her lips to keep from laughing and making the situation worse as Erik blushed in fury. The mustache had vanished somewhere along their short walk, fully exposing Erik’s death-like face. 

The small boy hugged Erik’s spindly legs in his delight at finding the Pumpkin King. 

Erik’s jaw clenched, unsure of what to do. His hands flexed into fists at his side, wanting to throw the child off of him or pat him on the head awkwardly.

“Owen!!” Cried a nearby woman, running up to the boy. “I don’t think he likes that, honey,” She held out her hand to Owen and beckoned him back to her. “But Auntie Pwincess...” he whined taking her hand. She turned to Erik, “I’m sorry, your Disney-bound is really good. He thought you were Jack,” she said breathlessly, trying to excuse the young boy’s behavior. “It’s FINE!” Christine interjected before Erik could say anything, “he gets that all the time. You gotta keep the secret, okay?” She pressed her finger to her lips and winked at the boy. “Have a good Halloween!” She waved to the pair as Owen waved back. “Bye bye!”

Erik stood there in shock, unable to process what had happened. Christine handed him a tube of eyelash glue and his fallen nose. He took them mechanically and left to enter the restroom. After a few minutes, he returned, adjusting his sunglasses back on his face and lightly tapping his raw upper lip. A few flecks of glue remained, but only Christine would notice. “I suppose that’s what you get for wearing black pinstripes at Disneyland,” she laughed sheepishly, trying to make light of the situation.

“I’d rather not discuss it,” he said, with all of his curt authority, but there was a certain softness to his voice. “Where to next?” He asked Christine, offering his arm with jerking, stilted movements. She took it and smiled. “My favorite ride, but you have to promise not to criticize it!” Erik gave her a mock aghast look. “I would NEVER-!” “Erik. Promise me.” “Oh, all right, I promise. I’ll hold my tongue. Now which one is it?”

Christine lifted her arm to the towering manor before them. “The Haunted Mansion!”

“Haunted, hmmm? I should really leave my card if they want a proper Phantom…” Ignoring him, Christine giggled with excitement, bouncing not too unlike their little visitor from before, and dragged Erik along behind her. She was all but skipping through the Pet Cemetery and pointed out all the puns on the various tombstones and mausoleums.

“I. M. Mortal? The evidence proves the contrary, sir,” Erik said. Christine shot him a dirty look and he held up his hands in innocence. “It was a joke, Christine! They’re all deceased.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him and whipped her hair at him with a small, “hmpf!” She strolled quickly into the front doors of the mansion as a glassy eyed Castmember ushered them in with a deadpan, “look alive. Right this way.”

Erik squeezed his way past through the bodies of the crowd to get back to Christine’s side. She gazed up at the foyer in awe, excitement vibrating from her being. 

“When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls.” Christine clasped her hands in giddiness, mouthing the words along with Paul Frees’s narration. “Whenever candlelights flicker where the air is deathly still — that is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight!” “... well I feel called out,” whispered Erik in Christine’s ear. Christine snorted in laughter.

“Welcome, foolish mortals, to the Haunted Mansion. I am your host, your Ghost Host. Kindly step all the way in please, and make room for everyone. There’s no turning back now.” One of the walls opened to reveal another room. The group shuffled their way in as another Castmember stated in the deepest voice he could muster, “Drag your bodies away from the walls and into the dead center of the room.”

“Are these puns going to continue throughout this journey?” “Yes, Erik!” Christine hissed at him in a whisper. “And if you don’t like it-” “Our tour begins here in this gallery, where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state.”

“You misunderstand, I love it entirely.” Erik looked longingly at Christine, aching to make her happy. She inadvertently was standing similarly to the ballerina-tight rope walker portrait stretching just behind her.  

“Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination — hmm?” 

“Oh. Well good!” The smile she gave him was dazzling. 

“And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows and no doors… which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out!” Christine echoed the laugh of the Ghost Host with chilling accuracy.  “Of course... there’s always my way-!”

Christine released a practiced blood curdling scream as lightning flashed and the hanged body of the host appeared above them. Erik jumped at her terrifying cry, but she was still smiling in delight. The lights flickered back on and a door slid open revealing another hallway in the labyrinthine manor. “Ohhh, I didn’t mean to frighten you prematurely,” Christine cooed along with the dialogue, smirking at Erik. “The real chills come later. Now, as they say, ‘look alive,’ and we’ll continue our little tour. And let’s all stay together, please.” “I was concerned about your safety,” he huffed, a slight blush rising to his sunken cheeks. He adjusted his Mickey Ears as they had skewed in his jump. “You were scared, just admit it!” Christine laughed as they walked through the hallway, where the curtained windows showed a thunderstorm raging outside the Mansion. To their right, more portraits flickered with the lightning, showing not all was as it seemed. 

“Christine,” Erik said sensibly, “a hanged body is something that does not frighten me.”

“I’m going to ignore that,” Christine told him, peering at the two busts whose faces turned to follow them down the line queue. 

“There are several prominent ghosts who have retired here from creepy old crypts all over the world. Actually, we have 999 happy haunts here — but there’s room for 1,000. Any volunteers?”

Christine nudged Erik with her elbow. “They’re looking for a new ghost. Need a new job?”

“If you insist on lagging behind, you may not need to volunteer.”

Erik tapped his finger against his lips in thought. “That’s not a bad notion…” “You’re not ACTUALLY considering it, are you Erik?” The two of them stepped onto the moving walkway and slid into their doom buggy carriage to whisk them off into the bowels of the mansion.

“Why not,” he mused. “Put my skills to the test, and so far, I am pleased with the traditional techniques they’ve been utilizing for their optical illusions.” The safety bar lowered on them, bumping against Erik’s gangling legs. “I find the older tricks are the most effective.” 

“We find it delightfully unlivable here in this ghostly retreat. Every room has wall-to-wall creeps, and hot and cold running chills. Shhh, listen!”

Their ghostly carriage rocked and swayed, providing them the direction where to look as they journeyed down the Corridor of Doors. A floating candelabra surrounded by a hall of mirrors that led to nowhere illuminated the scene to the right as groans from a moving casket cried out on their left. Leering eyes warped the wallpaper pattern into a frightful brocade as narration continued. 

Christine cooed in contentment as she leaned back in the Doom Buggy and watched the creeping horrors as they passed by. Several doors rattled and growled with threats of danger on the other side. 

“Ha! They used the effect revolutionized in ‘The Haunting,’” Erik hummed in his amusement as they passed by a particularly intimidating bulging door, the wood creaking with every ‘breath’ of movement.  “In fact,” he craned his neck around and tried to carefully observe the other doors, despite moving away from them, “this whole hallway is...a marvel...” Christine gave Erik her best vacant expression and told him, “the house is alive..!” He actually chuckled at her reference. Christine was pleased at his amusement. 

“It’s about time you found something you like-” But she was cut off by the seance Madame Leota was conducting as they swiveled into a pitch black room with instruments floating all around them. 

“OoooOooh, a medium,” Erik wiggled his spidery fingers in sarcastic spookiness, “how obnoxious,” he scoffed, but his smile remained. 

“Do not mock the great Madame Leota!” “Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween, awaken the spirits with your tambourine!”

Their vehicle turned and face the Seer, to reveal she was not seated at her seance table in front of the crystal ball. Rather, she was a disembodied head inside the ball, floating above the table. The jingling beat of a tambourine was the response, as if the ghosts of the mansion were responding to her words. 

“Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond, let there be music from regions beyond!” Music began to play as they were ushered from Leota’s chamber and into more darkness. Their Ghost Host whispered in their ears as they ventured deeper into the Mansion. “The happy haunts have received your sympathetic vibrations and are beginning to materialize. They’re assembling for a swinging wake, and they’ll be expecting me… I’ll see you all a little later.”

The organ music swelled around them with the melody of the mansion as ghostly apparitions began swirling in a waltz in a ballroom before them. Duelists stepped out of their portraits to fire, spirits were piling in from a crashed carriage, gathering around to feast on the rotten food on an elongated table. And a man in a top hat played the organ with great vigor, despite it being off-key. 

“The Pepper’s Ghost illusion, of course,” Erik whispered to himself.

“My favorite part!” Christine squealed in a hushed voice. “Yes,” he murmured, entranced as well, his eyes focused on the organ player, “I can see why…” Listening to the repeating music, his finger unconsciously swayed to it, as though he was conducting it and learning along. Christine hummed along, dancing in her seat as they turned away from the spectacle and into the attic, where the thudding of a heartbeat echoed in their heads. Scattered before them were portraits of various couples in their wedding attire. The woman, all the same in each one and smiling pleasantly, but every groom was different. Then, the swing of an axe, and the heads of the grooms vanished. A piano with only the shadow of a pianist played a discordant wedding march. At the end of the attic, was Constance Hatchaway, the bride herself, in her glowing ethereal splendor. “I do,” she whispered innocently, her bouquet revealing an axe, “...and I did,” she hissed, the axe shining with light. “Here comes the bride…”

“I know I’m desperate,” Erik remarked, “but I’m not that desperate for a bride.” 

Christine scoffed, “you sure about that? OH! HERE HE IS! THE HATBOX GHOST!”

Christine leaned forward as they left the attic and a ghost with skeletal features, not too unlike the man sitting next to her, appeared. He wore a magnificent top hat and a hatbox hung from his hand. His eyes looked suspiciously around before he laughed sinisterly. His face suddenly vanished from his body and reappeared inside his hatbox.

Their carriage tilted backward away from the mansion and into the backyard cemetery. Christine laughed and clapped her hands in delight.  

“What was so remarkable about him?” Erik puzzled. 

“The rumor of the Hatbox Ghost is amazing! He was put into the Mansion on the opening days, but then he vanished!” “The animatronic… vanished?” “Yes! They never saw it again! They just put him back in a couple of years ago. But can you imagine? Almost fifty years without Hattie and his image is all through the mansion! But now he’s back and better than ever!” The recurring music suddenly shifted from melancholy and dour to exuberant and lively. A raven cawed at them during their descent out of the main house and into the graveyard. They passed the terrified groundskeeper and his dog, both trembling in fear as the ghosts and corpses rose from their graves to have a frightening soiree.  

Christine bounced along to the music and sang along to the macabre choir, 

“When the crypt doors creak and the tombstones quake,

Spooks come out for a swinging wake.

Happy haunts materialize and begin to vocalize. 

Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize!

Now, don’t close your eyes and don’t try to hide,

For a silly spook may sit by your side.

Shrouded in a daft disguise, they pretend to terrorize.

Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize!

As the moon climbs high o’er the dead oak tree,

Spooks arrive for the midnight spree.

Creepy creeps with eerie eyes start to shriek and harmonize.

Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize!

When you hear the knell of a requiem bell,

Weird glows gleam where spirits dwell.

Restless bones etherealize, rise as spooks of every size!

She cackled and continued right from the top again. Ghosts popped up from behind tombstones, a Mummy was having tea, four busts sang very expressively, and several opera singers belted out their tunes. 

Erik nudged his elbow against Christine and nodded to a large woman’s ghost with long Valkyrie braids, projecting out her notes. “I wasn’t aware Carlotta was employed here!”

Christine sputtered in laughter as they left the graveyard only to be accosted by three hitchhiking ghosts, thumbing their way out. 

“Ah, there you are!” The Ghost Host’s voice cooed, “and just in time… there’s a little matter I forgot to mention — beware of hitchhiking ghosts! They have selected you to fill our quota, and they’ll haunt you until you return! Now I will raise the safety bar, and a ghost will follow you home!”

Christine wiggled in her seat, eagerly peering in the mirrors displayed before them to see which ghost would select them. However, all that they saw were their own reflections, Erik doing everything he could to avoid looking at himself “That’s odd… it must be down… usually a ghost appears next to you…” She looked over at Erik, who shrugged in response. 

“...nevermind, a ghost is next to me,” she commented dryly. 

A lulling melody lured them out of their Doom Buggy as the bar lifted and they stepped out onto the moving platform. Christine looked back as her palm sought the handrail, carrying them back up to the world above. “Hurry baaaack… Hurry baaaack…” The small bride-like figure of Little Leota taunted them as they headed upward. Erik rested his hand on Christine’s shoulder. “Oh, we plan to.” Christine gasped in delight, her eyes sparkling with unmitigated joy. “Again?”

Erik nodded, “how else am I to construct a summer home?”

[hardyimagines]

Part 1 — His Letters

———————————————————————

Can you please write about Alfie, where he has a crush on the reader but he’s nervous because of their age difference so he decides to communicate via letters with her (secret admirer vibe). Eventually they agree to meet up and it’s all cute and romantic and fluffy 😍

———————————————————————

Roses, carnations, daffodils, lilies, tulips, orchids. If it was wanted, it was delivered. The little store perched up on the corner beside the oversized bakery was casted in its looming shadow. Being a flower deliverer meant loads and loads of trips into the intimidating building, but it also meant many intriguing conversations with the men who worked in the establishment. Quite a few friends had been made, and many buyers had been found.

The little basket on the edge of the table was packed full of multiple different flowers. Some were blue, others were pink. The petals were lively with color and soft to the touch. They’d been taken care of. Watered daily, plenty of nutrients. The brown basket was a little worse for wear, but it didn’t matter because the gift was inside, it wasn’t the exterior. Lifting the basket into your small palms, you held it to your chest and made your way next door. The navy dress you wore had buttons along the front of it which stopped at your navel. The flowers, pressed against you in their current position, popped against the dark fabric. Men in all directions stopped to peer at you, in awe by the beauty of the flowers and the girl who carried them. Your fingertips traced the basket shyly beneath their stares, lips curving upwards politely.

Ollie was stood in the corner, clipboard in hand as he checked off all the tasks he had to complete before the day was over. He was tall, stood near all the barrels of alcohol. He rubbed his teeth together in frustration. Today, he was going to visit his mother. She’d fallen horribly ill and because he kept things to himself, he hadn’t told Alfie, otherwise the man probably would’ve let him off work early. The chap moved his hand to his cheek and scratched it nervously, trying his hardest to finish everything up as quickly as possible.

“Hello,” Your soft voice chirped as the men at the front opened the door for you. The nametag attached to your dress told them who you were and what your occupation was. The little flowers that decorated the tag, alongside the name of your business and familiar face, told the men that you meant no harm. Thanking them politely, you halted in the door and looked down toward the label on the flowers. “I’m looking for an ‘Ollie’?” The men at the door rotated around. Each one spoke over the other, their eagerness blatantly obvious. They both wanted to help. Their fingers pointed toward the boy, he looked a little younger than you. “Ah,” Patting their arms gratefully, you brushed past them before heading in that direction. “Thank you!” You called over your shoulder before heading toward the man who’d purchased the flowers. “Ollie?”

The boy’s eyes were glued to the words on the paper. He really hadn’t heard you when you’d called his name. He’d only realized you were coming toward him because of the soft clack your heels created while they hit the cemented floor. He glanced in your direction, brows furrowing instantly before he caught sight of the bouquet. “Are those for me?” He inquired. “I mean.. the ones I ordered?” Your smile was as bright as the yellow flowers that mixed in with the assorted ones.

“Yes, sir. So long as you’re Ollie.” A little breath of amusement escaped you as you handed him the basket. He nearly dropped the worn clipboard, but he didn’t seem worried at all. Tucking the pen away in his hand behind his ear, he took the basket from you. “Careful of the basket.. it was something new I tried out and it’s a little broken in some places, but it won’t fall apart.” You sweetly brushed one of the petals back into its appropriate position before withdrawing a card from your back pocket. “I’m sure these are a gift of some sort for someone, but this is the um.. instructions to care for them.” He took the card gratefully, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Thank you. Really, can you wait right here for just one second?” The boy hurriedly brushed past you before running toward the stairs.

Alfie Solomons was sat at his desk, eyes low and hand pressed against his head. He couldn’t seem to get any work done because of how distracted he seemed to be. His mind was focused on a hundred different things and work wasn’t one of them. Added to the fact that someone was stomping on his stairs so he really couldn’t focus then. Tearing the glasses off of his face in annoyance, the frame dangled around his neck, attached to the silver chain that embraced him like a necklace. The door, as he assumed it would, opened in a whisk. Ollie stood, breathing heavily, with a bucket of flowers clasped in his hands. He stepped into the office, no apology resting on the tip of his tongue. He placed the flowers down on the table nearest the door before finally looking toward his boss, who was eyeing him with a baffled look.

“Mr. Solomons. I- I need..” Alfie’s brow twitched. Was the boy really this out of breath from running up some steps. Leaning back in the seat, Alfie rolled the pen in his hand between his fingers, waiting impatiently for the boy to regain his breaths and speak clearly. “A tip, I haven’t got any cash on me. The flower girl- need to give her some money.” Ollie’s brows crinkled. He took a deep breath before shaking his head and attempting to speak much clearer. “The girl next door, the one that delivers flowers, she’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever met and I haven’t got any cash to tip her so I was wondering if you had some to give her?” Alfie was really stunned then. His blue eyes drifted to the door, opened wide for all downstairs to hear. The man behind the desk shook his head in disbelief before slowly looking toward the flowers. They were pretty, but why would Alfie do the tipping. He hadn’t ordered anything.

You stood at the foot of the stairs, cheeks hot and body growing flustered and warm. Ollie didn’t need to tip you anything and he certainly didn’t need to climb the intimidating stairs to request for his boss to do it. You shyly set your hand on the railing before beginning to climb the incline. You’d just tell him, there was no need for all this fuss. You needed to get back to your little shop anyway. Ollie’s voice had grown softer, but the plea was still evident. Alfie seemed completely uninterested, beyond bored out of his mind and unwilling to loan the lad any amount of money. You slowly came to a stop at the landing before moving toward the open door. Your hand curled, knuckles tapping against the wood before you poked your head inside.

“Hello.. I don’t mean to intrude.. or eavesdrop, but I don’t need a tip, that’s alright.” Smiling toward Ollie, your eyes briefly drifted toward the seated man. “and I certainly don’t want to take money from someone who hasn’t even ordered flowers from me.” Your eyes held a tint of amusement and the smile that morphed into a smirk made Alfie instantly interested. He straightened in his seat before rising. You were the flower girl that every man in the bakery ran their mouth about. He could see why. Long lashes. Beautiful tresses. High cheekbones and kind eyes. He pulled his lips in before looking to Ollie. If looks could kill, Ollie would be on the floor. The lad noted the stare before nodding once and excusing himself. He bid you farewell before taking his flowers off the table and disappearing, this time remembering to close the door. Your eyes lifted to the man in front of you, brows raising and hands finding your hips. His finger curled before ushering you toward him. Your brows furrowed in confusion, footsteps shyly and hesitantly moving in his direction.

“Here you are.” He sunk his hand into the deep pocket of his trousers before withdrawing a bill and handing it to you. The look on your face was one that made him almost smile.

“Did you want to buy some flowers, Mr. Solomons?” Inquiring that the money he’d handed you was suppose to be from Ollie seemed a bit rude, so instead, you flipped the situation around, dimples beside your lips deepening as he looked toward you. His blue eyes lit up with brief consideration befor the light died and he shook his head lightly. His finger brushed along the curled hairs that decorated his chin before he pursed his lips.

“I’m not much, right, of a flower type of gent, am I?” He told you softly. He didn’t expect you to speak up seeing as you didn’t know him, so he continued on. “Besides,” He took in a deep breath as he lowered himself back down into the creaky chair. His legs spread wide beneath the desk, elbows planting down firmly on the top. He kept you under a close eye. “I don’t have anyone, yeah, to be giving any fucking flowers to.” He looked toward the table where the flowers had previously been sitting. “You do a lovely fucking job though putting the bouquets together.” His blue eyes dropped to the table in front of him. Stacks and stacks of paper sat in lines on the desk, waiting to be given attention. It was impossible to know what all of the paper was for and it wasn’t your business either so you stepped back to give him a little more space. The temptation to pry and offer him examples of people he could give the gift to was strong, but you managed to swallow down the words that bubbled in your chest. Politely brushing your hands along the front of your dress, you pulled your cheek in and offered him a dismissive smile.

“Well.. I’ll be on my way then.” Cradling the money in your free hand, you thanked him for the tip before taking another step back. “If the time ever comes and you do need to purchase some flowers, please do come by and see me.” Bidding him farewell, the sound of your shoes clicking against the floor filled the room. The sound faded the further that you walked until Alfie was left with nothing but a distant memory of the pretty little florist.

The next day.

The bakery was empty apart from the man who’d been hired to keep it clean. He was called the janitor by everyone apart from himself — he thought the title was too servant-like, so he corrected people non-stop, insisting on just referring to him as an employee. He was stood in the middle of the dusty room, ridding of all the dirt and overnight filth that had managed to make its way on to the floors and machines. It was an impossible job — to keep the entire place spotless, but he did his best, cleaning every two hours. Little dribbles of sweat raced along his skin as he tended to the floors, kneeling down on the hard ground so that he could ensure the baseboards were void of any bugs, dust, and mold, he let out a heavy exhale. The puff of air revealed that there was nothing left to clean in this area — usually a gust of dust would’ve lifted and he’d be sneezing like crazy. His attention was pulled from the task at hand at the sound of someone knocking on the front door. His eyes lifted to the clock in the corner. Alfie was always the first to arrive; but typically that wasn’t for another hour. Pushing himself up and off of the floor, he rubbed his filthy palms off on his trousers and approached the wooden door. Wrapping his hand around the handle, he twisted the lock and undid the bolt before lugging the heavy thing open.

Stood outside the building, you cradled a small bowl of flowers. The plant was situated beautifully, stood tall and blooming inside the bowl-like vase. The exterior was solid black, a dark contrast to the vibrant petals attached to the lively green stems.

“Good morning.” Your voice filled the morning air. The sun wasn’t even beginning to creep out to bid the world hello yet. “I was just wondering if I could bring these upstairs? They’re for Mr. Solomons.” The man watched you shuffle your feet, a shy trait that many people seemed to have. He wiped his palm across his head in order to rid of the salty droplets that continued to form, but instead of ridding of the moisture, he smeared dirt across his skin.

“Mr. Solomons ain’t here yet, and I’m not meant to let no one in until he is.” He started to close the door. You extended your arm, small palm pressing against the door to cease it from shutting further.

“Would you.. mind setting these on his desk then? They’re a surprise, I didn’t want to hand them to him myself.” Your eyes, so honest and innocent flickered between his own. He sighed heavily. He didn’t have time to climb the never-ending flight of stairs to set a damn bowl on the man’s desk. He hesitated for a moment before opening the door all the way and ushering you inside.

“Make it quick.” He ordered before slamming the door shut and twisting the lock. He didn’t need anybody else wondering inside. You gratefully pat his arm before slipping past him. The purple dress you wore today matched the flowers that bobbed against your chest with your movements. Stair after stair made your body grow warmer. You felt a little foolish, sneaking into the man’s workplace before hours just to deliver a bouquet to him. You’d been unable to forget what he’d told you. If he didn’t have anyone to deliver flowers to, then that meant he didn’t have anyone to receive flowers from. Your palms grazed the bowl as you set it down on the corner of his desk. Tucked away between the stems was a sealed envelope and inside a simple letter you’d written for him. It wouldn’t be a question as to who had given him the nice little gift — but you figured it would still be appreciated for you to sign your name. The flowers weren’t dropping in the slightest. They’d been taken care of since they’d sprouted. You left a little instruction card beside the vase, a detailed list so the man could properly feed the flowers what they needed. You didn’t think it polite to linger, so without wasting any time, you spun on your heel and headed for the stairs. The janitor watched you as you skipped hurriedly down the steps and toward the door. Making a mental note to lock up, again, after you left, he looked back to the floor and continued to sweep, gaze only moving away from the ground at the sound of the door slamming.

——

It was 7 am. Animals were waking, the sun was rising, and Alfie was exhausted. His bed did its best to convince him to stay and get an extra hour of sleep, but the work that needed tending to pulled at him harder. He held a hot cup of coffee in one hand and had his free hand fisted around his coat. The usual cool breeze that accompanied him on his walk to work was vacant today meaning the large trench coat he wore wasn’t needed. He yawned tiredly, blue eyes scanning the length of the city streets. Nobody else was awake apart from the beggars that lurked around each corner. Now and then he could spare a few coins, but most of the time he was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear their quiet please. Taking a sip of the steaming liquid, he grimaced at the bitter taste and made a mental note to add some sort of sweetener. Licking his pink lips and bits of his facial hair, he tongued his cheek and turned the corner. At the end of the road, he could see his shop, doors shut and lights off. He was always the first one to arrive. And directly beside said shop, he could see your little flower booth. It wasn’t large or overpowering and it certainly didn’t scream ‘NOTICE ME’, it was just a small set up, but one that seemed to be treating you well. His eyes caught sight of a few strands of your hair, blowing in the breeze as you dipped beneath the counter and hauled out some vases. The glasses were packed full with flowers, prices attached to the front for all of those who walked by to see. His eyes didn’t linger for too long and he didn’t once look toward you once you’d risen. He didn’t know you, he simply knew of you and because of that, it didn’t seem smart to bid you good morning. What if you thought he was a creep? He pressed his lips together and set off in the direction of the building’s entrance.

You sensed his stare. Those eyes of his, such an evident shade of blue, were hard to miss as they lingered on you. He made poor assumptions that you couldn’t see the glances he gave. He probably figured you were too indulged in your work to notice the little gazes he sent your way, and though you were quite focused, you’d trained yourself to be attentive to customers when they looked toward the flowers. You supposed it also worked on a handsome man’s stare. Alfie didn’t stop. He didn’t speak. He simply walked by. Your heart strings tugged, warning you not to even dwell on the fact that he hadn’t said hello. He was far too handsome, mature, and to put it simply old. Not old as in too old and gross, but as in he wouldn’t want a girl your age. Far too young for someone so.. wise. He probably thought you were immature. You nibbled your bottom lip before pushing Alfie to the farthest corner of your mind. What was so special about him anyway? He wasn’t even a customer let alone someone you knew enough to like.

Alfie lifted his hand to his face and rubbed the length of it down, happy to be tucked away inside the warmth and privacy that the building offered. His footsteps were loud on the stairs, thudding noisily against each one. He was being stupid. Why would you even want to associate with a man like him? You looked far too young. Young, carefree, curious. You seemed so passionate about selling flowers and he, well, he was just a violent criminal who’d been on his own for as long as he could remember. He set his mug of coffee down and tossed his coat onto the sofa before setting down at his desk. You were much too young for him, he figured as he flipped through the awaiting paperwork on the desk. And he was sure that you thought he was far too old. Alfie’s fingers brushed along the corners of the desk as he absentmindedly caressed the sharp edges. His blue eyes flickered, cornea’s increasing and decreasing in size as he zoned in and out. It took him a few moments of running through the frantic, similar thoughts in his head before he came to and began to study his surroundings.

The pen he always used was sealed shut to prevent drying it. It was set crookedly on the pile of paperwork. The drawer beside his thigh was shut tight, secretly holding his revolver, cocked and loaded and ready for use. The lamp that sat on the side of the table was dim and burning, power switch flipped to on so it illuminated the contents in front of him. A little bowl of flowers sat beside the photo frames on his desk and it was then — when he took a double take — that he realized that was out of place. He studied the bouquet, brain instantly lighting up with the revelation of who’d sent these to him. Your name circled around in his head, teasing and taunting him because when he realized how cute he found your gesture, he also realized that he had to remind himself of his previous thoughts. You wouldn’t want an older gentleman.

Alfie pushed himself up and leaned over his desk in order to retrieve the gift. Lifting the bowl securely, he set it in the center of the desk, on top of the paperwork, before settling back down on his chair. The thing creaked noisily as he shuffled, fingers slipping between the stems so he could pinch the envelope that resided there. Dragging it out from its position, he stuck his thumb beneath the slit and smoothly pried the thing open. Your name was vacant. But the sweet little note for him to enjoy the flowers made his face feel warm.

Alfie Solomons didn’t blush.

Flipping the envelope closed, he dropped the paper into the drawer beside him and nudged it shut with a very quiet, almost inaudible grunt. It noisily shut beneath the force of his palm, letter enclosed inside the small space. Alfie’s eyes lifted to the door, ensuring that nobody was about to enter unannounced. He didn’t see anyone. The man lowered his hand to the very bottom drawer. Gripping the handle, he hauled it open and stuck his hand blindly inside, rummaging around for a blank piece of paper. He found one after a few moments, free hand caressing the petals that practically smiled at him. He lowered his hand to the instruction sheet and smoothly lifted the small card so that he could tuck it away betweeen the plants as you’d done with the envelope. Alfie looked toward his hand, the one that held the paper, and without thinking on it too much, he set it on his desk. If he thought on the situation too much then he wouldn’t write the thank you note.

————

‘Grateful. Flowers are a beautiful way of greeting someone, don’t you think? Clearly you do, for you wouldn’t have given me the beautiful things. Can you even remember who I am? I think a successful woman such as yourself would become confused after a while. Blurred faces and overlapping voices. Would you remember me if I were to say hello?’

Alfie brushed his hand along the length of his face. Two weeks. It had been two weeks and he still hadnt delivered the ‘thank you’ note. In fact. He hadn’t even written it. Not fully. He’d ripped the paper up 27 times, but this time.. this time he was going to deliver.

‘Caring eyes and a smile to match. You seem so genuine and full of life. I’d give anything to be able to tell you that in person, but for now, I think I’ll just remain as is. Anonymous. I’m nobody and I’m sure that wouldn’t change if you knew my name and face. Congratulations on the business and thank you for the flowers. I wish you the best, nobody.’

You adjusted the hand-written note. The folded slip had been placed in between the banner you’d just created. It stuck out in the slightest, but it was evident because the white was a stark contrast against the red sign. The smile on your lips refused to fade and the confusion that flooded you insisted on staying. Who had given this to you? It was too hard to assume. To ponder. To go over the list of names — of all the people you’d delivered flowers to. The note could’ve been from anybody.

Alfie watched from the upstairs window. The smile that graced your features was contagious. It was like a sickness, one that took hold of your immune system and weakened it within milliseconds. His fingernail caressed the chipped wood of the windowsill. He would write you more, he’d write as many as it took if it meant he’d get to see that beautiful expression wash over your face. And so he did. He wrote letters. And he wrote many.

October 1st. A month of letters. 12 to be exact.

—

Alfie — ‘One day I will tell you who I am. I’m sure the curiosity kills you. Anonymity is beautiful in its own way though. Judgement doesn’t exist, betrayal isn’t a possibility. Everything stays the way it is. Just a letter here and there, one that makes you light up as bright as the stars in the night sky. I hope to one day speak to you. Maybe something much deeper than a brief inquiry about the weather or a mere hello. Write to me, Y/N. Leave a letter by the golden pot.’

Y/N, your first letter — ‘Who are you? I need to know. You’re on my mind day and night. I picture you to be tall, handsome, such a gentle human being. The way you speak and the way you write, you’ve caught my attention from letter number one. I want to see you. Anonymity is beautiful — in a sense that you get to hide behind this shadow. But revelation is also relieving. Don’t you want to be able to see me up close? To feel and kiss and talk to me as much as you want? Please, tell me your name.’

Alfie heaved a heavy sigh before hitting the desk with his fist. He did want to kiss you. To touch you. See you up close, talk to you in person. But it was frustration. Every day he got a little older. His hair sprouted a few more gray’s. The pain in his body grew stronger and he could feel himself weakening beneath the strain of his muscles. Why would you, someone so healthy, young, and capable of doing so much, want to be with him? An aging old man who was nothing but unwanted.

‘Anonymity. Anonymity, anonymity, anonymity. That is my name. Perhaps, one day, you will see my face, but it would be brief. A flicker of a face in a sea of rushing people. I am not the man for you, but I believe you’re the girl for me.’

His letters were tucked away beneath your bed in a loose floorboard. Tied together with a thin ribbon in a secure bow, you folded closed the most recently received page and sighed. Tucking it away under the marshmallow of a pillow, you grumbled out incoherently, but unhappily. Your secret admirer did a fantastic job at not giving up too much detail. You wanted to meet him — so, so badly which was strange seeing as you really knew nothing about him.

“One day.. I will meet you.” You mumbled in the dark room. Rolling over and on to your side, you peered out the shiny window and gazed at the stars that shimmered in the night sky. Your secret admirer would soon be found and when he was, you were sure you’d feel the same feelings that bubbled in your tummy. Was he really interested in you enough to continue to send you little letters of admiration? You couldn’t believe he was so interested and he didn’t even know you. He simply knew of you. And you couldn’t wait for this to go beyond that.

———————————————————————

@peakblogbecauseimweak @bsotstory @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @xxxxxeroxxxxx @wheresthewater @anrm1 @pansexualginger @marvelgirl7 @evilspretty-dead @heyitscam99 @wow-he-cute @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @sparklyreaderx @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @giftofdreams @ihclipse @meer0rauschen @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @jamierdr @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @matoki-darkpanda

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Pairing: Arthur Hastings/Nick Lightbearer

Rating: M

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/54456913#workskin

Chapter 2:

Thanks to the tea, Nick Lightbearer felt much more frisky than before when made his way to the church St. Genesis. The tea had been mixed up with a whole bunch of other herbs but he didn’t mind it that much. It seemed to be normal these days. Maybe some new fashion he had missed. 

What he really wondered about was that downer, Arthur Hastings. He wasn’t at all what he imagined a downer to be. Sure, he acted crazy, even suicidal. Nick still hoped that most of their odd adventure was only the result of his dizzy brain producing nightmares. Without all that, Arthur sort of was just a normal human being who wished to fit back in, what made his fate both touching and unsettling. If all downers felt like this, why did nobody help them? 

The thought gave Nick such an uneasy feeling in his stomach that he popped another Joy, just in case. He had to greet his fellow men with a happy face after all, as a mere act of courtesy. Soon, the substance washed away his stupid sorrows and he started to see it all differently. It wasn’t the first time he got something wrong after all, it didn’t have to be so bad. Why would it be? He even laughed at his ridiculous thoughts. But the downer…he could help him. There was nothing bad about that.

When he reached the church St. Genesis he solemnly knocked at the door. 

„Open up, I’m the bringer of the light!“

The old lady behind the door squeaked with pleasure. 

„Oh dear, Mr. Lightbearer in person! We’re so happy to have you here!“ She opened the door and Nick strode in, watching the players cheer and wave.

He didn’t expect anything less. Bathing in their excitement, he walked through the rows of players who all wore black rubber suits. 

As if that helped to ease the pain, Nick thought gloatingly. 

He loved this game, at least as a caller. He loved how everyone hung on his every word, how they jumped when he demanded it. And how they got zapped, when they didn’t obey. And still, everyone was having a lot of fun. Why couldn’t it always be so easy?

„Are you ready to play?“, he shouted at the cheering crowd, noticing that his voice sounded smashing today.

„Oh my god, it’s really him!“ 

„Nick, I love you! You’re my hero!“

Nick let his gaze wander around the crowd until he found a rather cute kitten in the corner to the right. He winked at her and she almost blacked out at that.

„Alright, 

Music on! 

Zapper on! 

Simon says the game begins!“

Nick started the game with his favorite call, because using it at the beginning meant that everyone would follow it. 

„Simon says, slap your face!“ 

It looked hilarious.

He was even more overwhelmed when the first loser went down under a massive flash of lighting that was accompanied by a fulminating thunder. This church was much better equipped than the little clubs he used to play in back in the day. 

After a few rounds he noticed that the players were real professionals, so this was going to be a long session. Usually it meant to be even more fun for him, but this time it could be that the winner was too worn out after this. He had to fasten things up.

„You’re fantastic, guys! I love this game! I love you! Do you love me?“

The players screamed across each other to display their affection.

„Bow down to me“, he demanded and indeed some people bowed, eager to show how much they loved their idol.

„I’m sorry my babies, I didn’t say Simon Says“, he apologizes with false compassion and enjoyed the great thunderbolt that almost blinded him.

Later a woman didn’t step on her own foot in time. Nick made a little dance when she got zapped and gained applause for it. If only someone made photos right now. He hadn’t felt so great in a long time and he wanted his fans to remember this day.

„Do you have fun, guys? No tricks this time!“, he shouted and held up his hands to prove that he wasn’t pressing any buttons to zap someone. The players jumped even higher, cheering and screaming louder. They should be really exhausted soon. Nick saw that their concentration faded and it didn’t take long until the next one went down dramatically. The smell of burned rubber filled the air and more and more zapped losers tossed about on the ground, moaning in pain.

The end of the game was near. 

Only three players were left and the kitten from the right corner was still there, even if she was already staggering. Nick guessed she couldn’t make it for long anymore. 

For his last rounds, he chose a row of harmless calls to make the players feel save again, until he sprang the trap. 

Two fell for it.

It was the girl and someone on the other side of the room who were running to nowhere fast.

„I didn’t say Simon Says“, he chanted, pointing at the two losers and letting the last bolt of lightning strike through the church. When the smoke faded away the kitten was still standing upright, looking around in surprise while everyone else was on the ground.

„And we have a winner! Yeah baby, it’s you! You’ve been fabulous!“

She could hardly believe her luck, screamed of joy and clapped her hands together while the organist played a cheery tune and the old lady announced her, Melissa Dupree, as the winner. No one questioned it as long as everyone was jolly.

She radiated with happiness when Nick presented her with the big shiny medal in the following ceremony, for that she had replaced the rubber suit with a colorful close-fitting dress.

„It was a pleasure to play with you guys! See you next time! Bye, bye“, Nick bowed out, drowning the noise of the loud moaning losers on the ground, a quite satisfying sight after such a great game. The winner was staring at him with wide eyes when he offered her his arm to lead her out of the church. She beamed brighter than her medal when they promenaded along the plastered rainbow but she also had a lot of questions.

„You did that for me, didn’t you?“, she said in a tone that told Nick she was melting away. „How did you do this?“

„Well…I just have a way with light, or lightning, if needed“, he answered mysteriously, making her giggle and wagger her finger at him.

„You’re a naughty boy, Nicky.“

He took the hand she held up, feeling her raging pulse.

„Forgive me luv, but I just couldn’t do this to you.“

To reinforce this he gently kissed her shivering hand, what made her moan with pleasure.

„Believe me, you deserve it anyway. You’ve been amazing until the end.“

„You really mean it, don’t you?“, she whispered, looking at him with her dark blue eyes that looked even bigger with the shiny white mask framing them. Their eyes met.

„I swear, I never cheated at Simon Says before. It’s a sacrilege!“, he pretended, slapping his hand on his forehead like he was really upset. Then he came closer and whispered: „You won’t tell anyone, won’t you?“

She giggled again.

„Huh…I can be a real chatterbox sometimes“, she said playfully and eyed him up. „Not sure if I can keep this a secret without any help.“

Nick liked her more and more.

„Let me help you, kitten. Come with me and we’ll have a lovely day.“ 

With that, he put his arm around her and she rested her head on his chest. 

He led her right to the Avalon Hotel, where the Wonderland Suite was waiting for them. 

He didn’t bring anyone into his house anymore because it kept being overrun by unannounced visitors. The suite at least had a secret exit he could use without almost killing himself. In addition, it made quite an impression to the fans when he brought them into the most expensive hotel in Wellington Wells that had everything: the red and golden carpets and furnishings, reverently bowing service staff that saluted him whenever he passed and finally his well-spaced ultramodern lounge in the suite.

Also Melissa stood there with a gaping mouth. „It’s so pretty.“

„It’s all for the two of us, baby,“ he purred and pulled her closer, what caused her to moan again with relish. „Oh Nicky…“

He silenced her with a lustful kiss and she leaned into it, wrapping her arms around him, made him feel how much she wanted him. Needed him. And he needed her. 

Long before they reached his bed her onetime perfect beehive hairdo was completely messed up, and his hair was probably too. Nick laid her down on the mattress and kneeled down at the edge of the bed, feeling her greedy stare on him. He raised himself up, clasping his hands behind his head.

„Do you love me, baby?“, he asked dramatically, presenting himself like an exhibition piece, ready to be judged.

„Yes, Nick…“ she sighted and came closer, her fingers touched his chest, making the cloth of his suit rustle promisingly. „You’re my hero…“ 

Now he shivered.

„Do you want me?“, he whispered in her ear and the started pulling at his jacket.

„Shag me, Nick Lightbearer! I’m all yours!“

That was what he wanted to hear. He grabbed her, pressed her into the mattress and 

everything the staff ever witnessed from this day were their screams that longed until the day passed into the night.

Nick woke up with a massive headache the next morning. He found himself lying on the sofa in the lounge in a rather uncomfortable position that made his muscles ache. The blonde girl lied next to him, still half undressed and snoring so loudly that he wondered how he had managed to fall asleep with her around. He clumsily crouched out of the lounge, not without tripping over empty bottles and spilled out pills. He missed the edge of the sofa and tumbled on the floor, now remembering why he liked the fluffy carpets so much.

Cold water..he needed cold water right now.

When he proceeded to stumble into the bathroom he felt his stomach turn badly and because he couldn’t run anywhere he let it all out right were he stood, before he moved on. He managed to get into the bathroom by clutching the doorframe and shoving himself in. When he was finally inside, he reached the tap at the third try, achieving that the ice cold water pattered right on his head. He jumped backwards, spluttering and cussing and dashed against the sink.

Now he was somewhat awake, he decided. And he was done with cold water for today. He somehow succeeded to turn off the tap without drowning himself and then he started to search the cabinet above the sink for his supply of Strawberry Joy. 

He couldn’t start the day without it. 

A lot of trash fell out and startled him before he finally found his pills. He greedily swallowed one and closed his eyes, waiting for the stimulating effect. He knew that after such a long night the substance needed more time to spread in his system, but eventually all the pain and anger vanished behind a cloud of pleasure. When he opened his eyes again the room glowed in the most beautiful colors. He could even look at his own face in the mirror again.

„Lovely day for it“, he greeted himself with a smashing smile.

His legs were still a bit wobbly when he walked back into the lounge. 

The girl in his bed…there was something about her…something important. 

Shit…why didn’t he make any notes? Or did he?

Nick searched his crumpled pieces of paper wich were filled with confusing words that were supposed to become lyrics someday. He could hardly read them because a big metal plate on the table was glowing in the sunshine and blinding him. He was about to throw the weird thing out of the window when he suddenly remembered something. 

The medal! Simon Says! 

He wanted it, but why? To pay his bills? No, who would take this as payment? 

Shit. Maybe he’d remember when he passed by the church again.

So Nick took the shiny medal and left his suite, wondering about what could’ve been his plan yesterday…if it had been yesterday. 

How did he even walk all the way to the church without being spotted by half the town? The moment he stepped out of the Avalon he was free to be assaulted. He was lucky that it was still early in the morning and not many people were already out there.

Nick sneaked along the side roads or hid behind newspapers, knowing how ridiculous he looked. He wouldn’t do that again soon. 

It was unavoidable that a constable caught him creeping around.

„Holy moly, Nick Lightbearer in person, in the middle of the street, unguarded!“, he shouted out before Nick could stop him.

„For heaven’s sake Constable, you wanna drum up the whole town?“

The bobby silenced and eyed him suspiciously.

„What are you doing out here anyway? It’s not save to leave your house without your personal guard“, he asked lifting an eyebrow.

„You know…just…taking a walk…it’s a wonderful morning“, Nick answered and faked a smile. He didn’t fool the bobby.

„You seem to be a bit nervous, Mr. Lightbearer. Did you take your Joy?“

Nick tensed. One pill probably wasn’t enough in his condition. Still, he decided to do something he usually never did. He pretended that everything was alright and thereby refused to pop another Joy. How was he supposed to remember the last day after all, if he took more? Could’ve stayed in bed just as well. But of course he looked even more suspicious now.

„Are you sure? I know better, but some people could mistake you for a downer“, the Constable said half jokingly and half warningly.

Nick affected a laugh.

„A downer, me! Ridiculous!“ He was serious about this. He didn’t want to be a downer at all. The word alone felt like a whiplash. But this time something was different.

„Downer…downer…“, he muttered to himself, as if the word wanted to tell him something.

„Are you alright Mr. Lightbearer?“, the bobby sounded concerned.

Suddenly Nick jumped up.

„Yeah, that’s it!“

The downer he met yesterday in the tunnels! He wanted the medal!

Excited about his discovery he stared into the eyes of the bobby until he realized what he was doing.

„I mean..uh…I better pop another Joy. You can never have to much Joy, right? Lovely day for it!“

He abandoned the confused constable to go for the next mood booth and get another pill. Now he was certain that he won’t forget again. This day became better and better. 

Now he also remembered how he had walked to the church without being seen. Some time later he entered the underground tunnels, thinking that this was actually not a bad place to hide. Sure, it was a bit dirty and not very homey but he could do something about that. This downer was quiet smart. What was his name again? Albert? Andrew? It was something with „A“ at least. 

Nick kept entertaining himself with his dizzy thoughts until he came to the spot where he wanted to meet the downer again.

[viptrash]

Lune

(A/N)

Well I have a new daydream plot 🤡 A while ago, I read Crescent, a Werewolf! Changkyun AU by @miss-noo-na , and if you haven’t read it or any of her stories go and do it because they’re so good. This is just a lil continuation with an angsty ending my heart made me think about, so now I have to share my pain with you. It is 100% @miss-noo-na ‘s story, and she gets full credit for it, this is just a lil scenario on how I personally would’ve continued the story. You do need to read the story to understand this, so go read Crescent here, and show her some love!

This starts a few months after Crescent’s ending. It’ll be fluffy for a bit but then it’ll get real angsty (character death), so I’ll put a warning where it begins for those who just want to read the fluff and not the angst.

—————————————————————————————————————

After traveling around for a few months, you and Changkyun finally settled into a small cabin, similar to the one Changkyun lived in before everything went south. It was a long ways away from everything about your past. You were just hoping it was far enough away for your mother to leave the both of you in peace. In the back of your mind, you knew it was only a matter of time before she would find you. But even if your mother found you and raised hell tomorrow, you wanted to just be happy today and spend every last happy moment you could with Changkyun. Your past was your past, and hopefully it wouldn’t be tomorrow’s problem.

The cabin sat on the edge of the woods, where a pack of werewolves dwelled. Yet their territory was much deeper in than you both were comfortable in wandering, so they never bothered you. Holding hands and giggling about nothing, you both enjoyed the beautiful scenery.

There was also a small village nearby, a couple miles away from your cabin, but close enough to easily get to in your truck, hauling ingredients home to cook every few days. While you bought most of the ingredients, some of them you would get from helping an old elderly couple in their vegetable garden. You didn’t know where their kids were, if they had any, but you knew better than to ask.

You even tried your hand at baking. It was strange to adjust since you were used to killing and destroying with your hands, but creating something cute and tasty was a very needed and welcomed change. Changkyun joins you from time to time, but those sweets usually don’t turn out. Not because he was bad at baking, but because he would usually use the ingredients to start a food fight and you wouldn’t have enough leftover for the recipe. Not that you were complaining, those days were quite fun.

Most of Changkyun’s time was spent reading books or writing in his jounal. You don’t really know what he writes, he’s never shown you anything he’s written. Regardless, he seems happy doing it, so it didn’t really matter what he wrote, as long as it made him happy.

About a year and a half after settling into your cabin, you began to feel nauseous and missed your last period. (I think we all know where this is going guys gals and non binary pals) Holding a positive pregnancy test in your hands, you wondered what Changkyun would think. You were both still young, and a baby is a lot of responsibility. Yes, you both loved each other deeply, but it’s a lot to take in. You knew he wouldn’t leave you because of this, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you walk out of the bathroom to find Changkyun. You could feel your nerves getting to you as you took each step closer to his form hunched over the kitchen counter, scribbling in his worn out journal. As nervous as you were, his presence calmed you, your lips curving up into a smile without realizing it.

“Guess what?” You hugged him from behind, placing a kiss on the nape of his neck.

He hummed, smiling as he turned around to face you.

“You found a new recipe to try? Ooh will you let me help?” He questioned.

“Nope, not a new recipe.” You fiddled with your fingers, your nerves returning to you. “I’m pregnant.”

He froze, trying to process what you had just told him. You could feel your hear beat faster in anticipation, biting your lip nervously.

“Really? Are you really pregnant?” He whispered, hopeful eyes staring up at you.

“Yes.” You breathed.

You’ve never seen him smile wider.

“Like really? We’re really going to have a baby? How far along are you? Do we need to start going to the doctor? When can we find out the gender? It’s going to be a boy for sure!” He stood up from his seat, hugging you tightly in excitement.

“Slow down.” You laughed. “I’m only like a couple months along at most, and it’s way too early to tell the gender. But it’s going to be a girl, I know it”

“Can I choose his name?”

“You can if it’s a boy, but it’s not.”

“I guess I’ll be choosing HIS name then.” He smirked.

“Listen I’m making this baby I know it’s a girl don’t you dare tell me I’m wrong,” You fired back.

Of course, you two had to make a bet about whether it’s a boy or a girl.

Once you baby bump starts showing, Changkyun becomes very protective of you. To be fair, he was a werewolf, it was his instinct to protect his family.

Now that you were showing, he enjoyed talking to the baby whenever he could. Especially before bedtime, he would read a piece of whatever book he was reading to your stomach. It was a bit uncomfortable at first, considering he’d balance the book on your stomach and practically lay down on you. But you couldn’t complain, he was excited and it was cute.

At night, you would fall asleep with Changkyun hugging you from behind, his arms wrapped around your little bump. It was the perfect peaceful life you wanted, with the love of your life.

(whew boy here we go: angst)

—————————————————————————————————————

You breathed in the crisp autumn air, spreading your arms out as you twirled around in a circle. You giggled as Changkyun watched you with a loving gaze. You two were making your way back to the cabin after a short walk in the woods, the warm sunshine breaking through the beautifully colored trees.

You were about 4 months along in your pregnancy, your baby bump growing, but it was still easily hidden under the large sweater you wore.

However, there is no rainbow without rain.

Changkyun froze as your cabin came into sight, not recognizing the black truck that now sat in your driveway. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tried to make out the figures through the tinted windows, but to no avail. Regardless, he pushed you behind him as he moved slowly towards the unfamiliar truck.

The truck door opened, and you cursed as you saw a familiar woman start to make her way over to you.

Changkyun growled, noticing the gun nestled in in its holster at her side. Yet your mother only held her hands up, showing that they were empty. She didn’t mean harm, for now. Knowing your mother, she would try to talk you into going home with her, and resort to drastic measures if she wasn’t getting her way.

You pulled your sweater down, grateful it covered your stomach. If your mother knew you were pregnant, things would only get worse.

“Y/n come home.” She looked past Changkyun, ignoring his presence as she stared into your eyes.

“No.” If she was going to be blunt, you would be too.

“Y/n you need to come home.” She sighed. “You can’t live like this, you can’t be living with this...this monster.”

“I can and I will. Changkyun’s not a monster and I’m happy here.”

“Y/n he’s just using you. He’s lured you here and one day he’s going to kill you! Just like he killed your father.” She dragged her hand over her face in frustration.

“If he wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it already. But he hasn’t, because he doesn’t want to hurt me. Believe it or not, we’re in love.” You stated firmly, knowing you were just talking to a brick wall.

Your mother sighed, slowly pulling her gun out from its holster, “Don’t make me do this y/n,” aiming her gun at Changkyun.

“I’m not making you do anything. You don’t have to do this. You can turn around and go home. You can let me be happy. You can let me live my life here. You don’t have to hurt him. You don’t have to hurt us.” You said.

“Yes I do, because apparently you haven’t listened to a goddamn thing I’ve said! He killed your father! Does that mean nothing to you?!” She raised her voice, reaching the end of her patience. You know it hurt her after your dad never came home, but that didn’t give her the right to dictate your life. She’s done that for too long, you wanted to decide for yourself for once.

“Mother.” You gently pushed Changkyun away for you to move beside him. He began to protest, but backed down when you nodded and gave him a small smile. “I’m happy here. Does your hatred for werewolves really have priority over your own daughter’s happiness? I’m not going home. You’re going to go home, and never come back.” You said forcefully, despite knowing that your mother would never listen to you.

Your mother simply cocked her gun, her stance unwavering.

And before you could move to stand in front of Changkyun, she pulled the trigger.

A scream ripped through your throat as you watched Changkyun fall backwards, your hands barely managing to catch his head before it hit the ground. Your hands worked quickly, pulling up Changkyun’s shirt to tear the end off, exposing the bullet wound on his abdomen. You bit your lip, assessing the severity of the situation. He was bleeding fast, the bullet definitely hit at least one organ, and you knew your mother only used silver bullets.

The chances he’d survive were minuscule.

Yet you swallowed the lump in your throat, managing to smile down at Changkyun.

“It’s okay, it’s not that bad. You’re going to be okay Changkyun you just need to stay awake for me.” You said in the most soothing voice you would muster as you folded the fabric as well as you could with shaking hands, placing it over the hole and applying pressure.

You held back tears as you leaned down to kiss his forehead, bringing a hand back to smooth his hair out of his face.

“You’re going to be okay.” You found yourself chanting those words like a mantra, and you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself anymore.

As you go to move your hand back to apply more pressure to the wound, Changkyun grabbed it. “I know it’s bad,” he whispered. “I know I’m not gonna make it.”

“No don’t say that, you’re going to be okay Changkyun, everything’s going to be okay.” You sniffled, barely holding back your tears.

“It’s my time y/n. I have to go see my pack now.” He smiled softly, bringing your hand down to his heart. “I’ll be mad if I see you soon. Live long for me, okay?”

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Do you remember the name I picked out?” He asked.

You managed to hum, your throat burning as you clutched his hand tighter.

“I’m definitely winning the bet.” He tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a wheeze. You only sobbed harder.

He wasn’t going to get to see your baby. To see their first steps, to hear their first words. He wasn’t going to be there to watch them grow. He wasn’t going to be here to help you through the rest of your pregnancy. He wasn’t going to be by your side anymore.

He was dying in your arms, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

“I love you y/n.” You placed his hand over your heart. “I love you so much Changkyun. You’ll always be right here. Go see your pack now. Say hi for me. I love you so much.” You could barely choke out the words, your throat raw.

You wanted, no, you needed him to know how much you loved him. If it’s the last thing he ever hears, you needed him to know that you love him.

“I love you I love you I love you Changkyun, so so so much.” You leaned down to kiss his forehead, your tears dripping onto his pale skin.

He closed his eyes as his heartbeat slowed, and your fingers traced over his features, desperately trying to etch every inch of his face into your memory. The curve of his nose, his full cheeks, his soft skin. You wanted all of it to be burned into your mind, you never want to forget a single part of him.

And then, all too soon, his heart stopped.

All you could do was sob, your body wanting to curl in over itself from the pain. Kneeling on the ground, you held Changkyun’s head to your chest as you cried your heart out.

You could hardly register the arms grabbing at you, prying you away from Changkyun’s body. It was all a blur, you jerked and screamed at your mother to let you go.

Two men you didn’t recognize were now stalking towards Changkyun’s body.

“Don’t touch him! You call him a monster but what about you? Huh?! You killed him! You killed the love of my life, you monsters.” You spat out, scratching at your mothers arms to release you. But she was stronger than you, you couldn’t pry yourself free of her grasp.

“At least let me give him a proper burial, please.” You begged, your voice hoarse.

They only ignored your pleas, putting wood together to make a bonfire.

He wouldn’t get a proper funeral.

They weren’t going to leave a single piece of him left.

And all you could do was watch and sob.

—————————————————————————————————————

Your body felt heavy when you woke again, your breath catching when the memories of yesterday’s horror came back to you.

Your throat was dry and burning, yet you didn’t want to move a single muscle. You were numb to everything but your heart throbbing in pain.

The love of your life was dead. He was ripped away from you, and all you could do was sob in his absence.

You laid in your bed, your mother hadn’t dragged you back to your hometown yet. She would bring food and water to your bed, encouraging you to sit up and nourish yourself.

You just ignored her, turning your back to her and staring out the window as tears soaked your pillow. How could you forgive her? She took away your happiness, your entire future. She killed the love of your life. How could you bring yourself to eat food that she made after that?

You couldn’t.

Days passed and you still couldn’t bring yourself to consume anything. Until your mother was finally fed up with you.

“Honestly y/n how long are you going to keep this up? You need to eat and drink to live. He did say he wanted you to live a long life. It’s what he would have wante-“

“You killed him! You took away the only happiness in my life and you expect me to be okay with that!? You didn’t even let me give him a proper burial, you have no fucking right to be telling me what he would have wanted. You didn’t know him, you didn’t care to know anything about him! Who the fuck are you to tell me what he would have wanted me to do with my life, huh? You know what I wanted? I wanted to live in peace and happiness with the love of my life in our home. But clearly what I want doesn’t fucking matter to you does it?” You growled.

“He was planning to kill you! Just like he killed your father last year! He’s a monster when he transforms, an animal that loses control. You think that just because he felt something for you that he wouldn’t have eventually lost control and killed you? Grow up y/n, Changkyun would’ve-“

You whipped around to face her, your eyes blazing and wet with tears. “His name doesn’t deserve to be tainted by coming out of your disgusting mouth. You have no right to say his name like you knew a goddamn thing about him.” With that, you huffed and laid back down, pulling the covers over your head.

She tried to reason with you, spouting nonsense about how it was all for your own good

Once she realized you weren’t going to respond to her, she placed the food and water on the nightstand and left. Once you were sure she had gone, you sat up and ate a few bites, chugging the glass of water as well. But it wasn’t going to be enough to sustain your body.

You just stared out the window, the soft light from the full moon dancing around the room. And for some reason, you just started talking. It felt strangely therapeutic, like you were talking to him somehow.

“I miss you Changkyun. It hurts so much. They didn’t even let me bury your body. I have no piece of you left.”

“I know you’re mad at me right now for not eating well. I know you’re worried about her. I’ll start eating better. For the both of you,” you rubbed your stomach, smiling softly.

“I’m winning the bet though, it’s definitely a girl. I can feel it.”

A week later, when you physically started feeling better, you went looking for a memento of him, a personal item he was close to, to at least bury it and give him a grave. Even if you couldn’t bury his body, you felt like you had to do something to mark his death.

You came across his journal on the kitchen table, but you couldn’t bring yourself to bury it, or even read it. It felt too soon, and you knew you wanted to keep it in case one day you would work up the nerve to read it.

Eventually, you settled for a pendant he often wore. It was a simple obsidian crystal, tied up with black string. It suited him. You remembered when he got it, he looked so excited to wear it. A few months after that, he bought you a necklace from the same shop. A pitch black crescent moon, made of obsidian to match his pendant. You loved it, and as much as it was a set and you wanted to bury your necklace with his, it just didn’t feel right. It was one of the few gifts he gave you, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Besides, you two were a set, now separated. Burying your matching necklaces seems like it would only bring you misfortune.

So you settled for just burying his pendant, laying it down in the shallow hole you dug in your yard. You could feel tears burning down your cheeks as you said a few words about him, and a short prayer before filling the hole and placing a few stones around the mound. It was as close as a proper burial and a grave as he would get, but you felt a little better knowing he at least has a place to rest by your home.

The week after that, you gathered your things in the night and left. There was no way you were going to stay long enough for your mother to figure out you were pregnant, who knows what she would do in that situation. Considering how much she despised Changkyun, you wouldn’t put it past her to go to drastic measures to make sure you wouldn’t have his child.

You didn’t want to leave, it was your home after all. A place where you both shared plenty of happy memories. Yet you knew you had to, for the safety of your daughter. You packed up your things in your truck and forced yourself to not look back.

—————————————————————————————————————

Both of you won the bet, you gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. Dal-Bich and Il-Chun.

Moonlight and Sunshine.