#she has a nice polished wooden box she's in

[faytelumos]

A Good Girl's Eulogy

cw: real death; animal and human death mentions

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On August 28th last year, some time around 5pm, my family's 18 year old chow/shepherd mix took her last breath.

When we first got her, she fit comfortably in my mom's hands. She was the runt, and mom had picked her out for that fact. The runt of the litter doesn't always get adopted, she said. While us kids and Dad were at home, fawning over our new baby, Mom went to get bowls, food, and toys. Us kids went to bed and Dad watched the puppy, the gears in his mechanic's brain working, and when Mom got back, he looked up to her, our new family member in his lap.

"We have two choices for her name. Diesel, or International."

Diesel was smart, and maybe all dog owners think theirs is unusually intelligent, but our girl was clever.

By the time Diesel was a "teenager" she knew we didn't like her out of the yard alone. She belonged in the back yard when there wasn't anyone around to watch over her, since the front yard was completely unfenced and open to the neighborhood. Every day, when Mom got up, she would let Diesel into the back yard to do her business, and ten or so minutes later, would call Diesel back into the house for breakfast. Every single day, this was the pattern. And one day, Mom strayed from that pattern to look out into the front yard.

And there was Diesel, casually patrolling the front yard, unattended.

Shocked, Mom had headed to the back yard, but by the time she got around the side of the house, Diesel, too, was in the back yard.

We learned that day that she had found a hole in the fence, and more than likely was taking daily constitutionals into the front yard, perhaps to check up on things or watch birds, before returning to the back yard to be collected for breakfast. If she ever had any more sneaky escapades or excursions, we never caught her.

We adopted other dogs, who became Diesel's companions and fellow family members in her adulthood. A stocky little thing that had been surrendered to us from another family (we gave him a Nicholas name after a US president) a tiny pup we had gotten from a local breeder (who we also gave an automotive name) and another tiny breed who we adopted from a home that couldn't care for him anymore (named after a color).

Diesel was always the biggest by far, tall and strong. She was dominant in personality and in charge, and she often led the others around the yard here and there to anything that was interesting or required attention.

She didn't need a leash if a human was with her. She started one-sided fights with President, chased rabbits and birds, always came when she was called, knew how to shake hands, and you could pat your chest to get her to jump up, put her paws on you, and gives kisses.

She deserved more love than we gave her.

Dad played fetch with her, took her for rides in the truck, and called her his good dog. He was outside working often, and they spent time together when she wasn't exploring or checking things out with the others. She'd sit with him inside in the evening, and he'd give her scritches.

Five years ago, he died suddenly. I lived out of state. The police officer on my mom's doorstep told her she didn't want to see the body.

A lot happened in that week. I asked myself more than once if Diesel knew he was gone. I came and visited, and then went back to the life I had left paused.

Three years ago, Diesel got very sick.

Mom wasn't sure she'd make it through the weekend, and I dropped everything again to return. She was sixteen at the time. She had been a part of my family for sixteen years, and I stopped just short of telling my boss and coworkers that my sister was dying.

She was his dog, Mom wept over the phone.

When I got into the house, she was in a sorry state; skin and bone, her strength sapped as she lay on the living room floor. She hadn't eaten in two days, and she'd stopped drinking that morning. I couldn't have imagine it, not from the girl who had been a powerhouse and boss over her huge back yard not so long ago.

I gave her bland food to coax her to eat, and overnight she seemed to gain ten pounds. I took her to the vet, told them where she hurt and to be careful of her temper, and then took her home. The appointment that, three days ago, had been for her final breath, turned into a prescription for antibiotics. But at her age and in her state, chemotherapy and surgery wasn't an option. So we let that battle go.

I came, visited, and then went back to the life I had left paused.

Last year, another call.

She's really bad. I think this is it.

Tell her I'm coming. Tell her I'll be there tomorrow.

I silently hoped I could perform that miracle twice.

She was so thin. She wobbled on her back feet, toes getting caught as she walked. She coughed, raspy and rough. I picked her up, my once 60 pound firecracker, and she let me carry her upstairs so mom could give her a bath in the tub.

I laid with her for hours, two towels wrapped over her and curled up against her back so she didn't shiver as she dried.

The vet came to us. A new, affordable program for geriatric or terminally ill dogs. I made sure Mom would get her ashes back. Because we'd had her for eighteen years, and she was going to stay with us now forever.

The other dogs and all of us kids and mom held her and stroked her. The vet was so kind, and we all watched as our beloved girl let go of her pain.

I carried her, wrapped in my dad's favorite blanket, to the back of the vet's car. There were two other bundles in the back. Small, and tenderly covered.

I watched her go, and I stayed in the street after she'd turned the corner.

[tumblingdownthefoxden]

"The Assistant and The Star"

Chapter 6: When Old Wounds Bleed

*TW: emotional manipulation

Under the orange lights hung over the marketplace, Simon stood behind masked Asha as she and Hal investigated the stalls with little crafts. She still wanted to have something for Sabino when she returned. There were little people there, which meant no long lines, but the hard part was finding a stall with a little trinket he might like. It was no secret that Asha was great at gift giving, the unspoken part was how picky she was with potential gifts that she finds. Her friends had shown her several stalls but all of the options were either too big or too grand.

Now, Asha stood before a stall of jewelry that Hal suggested, belonging to an older Romani woman. “Is there anything in particular that you are looking for?” She asked. Asha looked up from the bracelets.

“Uhh, what do you recommend for birthday gifts?” “Hmm.” The woman put her hand to her chin. “For family or friends?”

“Family. It's for my grandfather.” Asha said.

“Oh. I know.” She bent down and brought up a box that she opened on the table, revealing 3 statues of rearing horses. “These are some of my best crafts that are in low demand.” She picked up a silver one. “I crafted this one from platinum, so it stays shiny for a long time. It's attached to a piece of raw labradorite stone. Looks unimpressive from the side but there is great wonder underneath.” She turned the horse over to show off the radiant color of polished labradorite at the bottom. Hal reach over and carefully held up the horse. She handed it to Asha but she shook her head. Not quite what he likes. The woman picked up a white horse.

“This one is carved from a block of white marble. If you look closely, you can see the curves and bulges of muscle on the body.” Hal took the horse to look closer at the minor details on the body. “The mane, tail, and hooves are layered with carefully placed gold leaf.”

“Oh, this is impressive.” Hal said. “What about that pale one?”

“Oh, this was my most difficult piece.” The woman commented as she picked it. “It was hard to find someone that sold real and high quality jade. Not to mention how hard it is to even chip at!” She looked at it with adoration and pain. “When I did get it to give way and become a horse, I lined some designs with molten gold.” She handed it to Asha. “Because it's jade, it won't easily scratch, but be careful not to hit it on something hard. It's hard but not tough.”

Asha examined the horses for a while. “These are beautiful but they're not I'm looking for. Do you have anything smaller?”

The woman bent under the stall, slightly upset that she couldn't sell her best crafts again. Nonetheless, she placed a long black box on the table. “These might do. Perhaps your grandfather has an interest in the exemplary rare?” She opened it to reveal an assortment of brooches. “The smaller the piece, the easier to add rare metals and stone.” There are a few shaped like leaves and flowers. Others are shaped like dragonflies, moths and various beetles. Now these were more his speed.

Hal held onto the marble horse. "Ma'am? Could I buy this horse please?" The shopkeeper's eyes widened. This was it! Her work wouldn't go to waste! "Oh! Yes! Of course! Let me packaged that for you." She chimes. Asha examined each brooch piece until she found a bronze brooch shaped like a Hercules beetle.

Great detail to the beetle. A shiny allure with a smooth surface. It was cool and nice to touch. Just his style! “This one is perfect! How much do you charge?”

…

Dahlia was talking to Gabo before a stall with wooden utensils when he noticed the three of them approaching. “Hey! You're back! Did you find anything for him?” She asked.

“Oh yeah, he should like it.” Asha held up a little dark box with the brooch inside before putting it in her satchel. “It will look good on his shirt.”

“Sweet. Hal, what’s you got there?”

“A horse!” She proudly held the box with the marble horse that she got for herself.

“Aren’t you worried about your budget? That horse was expensive.”

“Am I not the master of chaos? Had my hand not dealt with various trades? Do I not have all the means to twist fate in my favor? So why must I restrain myself. The world is ablaze my friends. Indulge in the gifts of life for tomorrow is never promised.“

Everyone looked at her like she just prophesied the heat death of the universe.

“Anyway… We found a new mural in the market.” Gabo said.

“Oh, another? Let me guess. Is it a dog playing with wishes? Or cats?” Asha asked, weary. There's been an odd trend in murals lately. No matter what, they all had to do with wishes.

“Oh, no. This one is of a bull!” Gabo pointed at the wall behind the utensil stall, where there lay a large painting of a happy bull wearing a flower wreath around his neck.

Now they had Asha's attention. Valentino stood back and looked over to notice some dandelion flowers at the corner of the stall. He licked his lips at the sight. First, he checked Asha. Then he checked Charo and the surrounding area. No one was near and Charo could handle a threat. Valentino walked over and sniffed the flower before eating it. It’s been so long since he got to eat some dandelions. He looked over to see a plucked dandelion laid on the ground a few feet away. He excitedly trotted out to eat that one too. There were three more dandelions laid out in a line from him. Valentino ate one more dandelion before looking back at the group. He was just past the stall and was farther from Asha than he wanted. Before he could walk back to her, a pair of hands seized Valentino. One hand closed over his mouth, the other held him against the body of a figure that disappeared into the night.

The others came to the scene and took a look at the wooden utensils when Simon spoke up. “Hey, uh, where did Valentino go?” Asha looked down and noticed his absence. She looked back at the jewelry stall and around the utensil stall. “Oh. Oh no!” She went. Valentino always went where she went. Not unless someone held onto him.

“Oh no. Did you see him?” She asked them. They shook their heads.

The group split to look for the baby goat. Simon and Charo stayed near Asha when they heard a soft and long bleat. From near the end of the market. Immediately, she ran after the sound. Simon ran after her when a young man ran out from the side, crashing into him and knocking both of them to the floor. “Ow! Watch where going! Ah!” He hissed.

Simon was the first to rise when he saw the unscathed man before him, hissing as he held his arm. “Oh stars! I am so sorry! I didn't see you!” He apologized, reaching down to help up the man whose legs had suddenly given out.

Asha went on without him, Charo still on her tail as more panicked bleats sounded. Running through alleyways and across streets. Nearing the edge of the city, the two passed by an alley when another pair of hands grabbed Charo in a similar manner as Valentino and retreated. Only a strained yowl called Asha's attention. She turned to see that she was now alone in her pursuit for her goat.

“What? Charo? Simon?” She called out.

“Looking for someone deary?” Asked a soft voice. A familiar voice. Asha froze. That voice. She slowly turned towards the forest to see a smiling woman with long blonde sausage curls. In her arms, she held Valentino, mouth clamped shut with her hand.

“Oh, hello there.” She said. She was still disguised so maybe she can just get Valentino and leave if she played dumb. “How are you doing today?”

“I'm a little upset actually. My hopes of getting my wish granted today were crushed.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe the King will grant your wish during the Autumn Equinox Ceremony. Or the King might grant it before then? You never know with him.”

“Oh yes, but I think his assistant might know.” She said with a knowing smile as she gently stroked Valentino’s face with her thumb. He bit down on her hand but she made no expression of pain. “But tell me Asha. Just how is the King?”

‘She knows!’

“He's… better. Can I please have my goat back?” She needed to leave now.

“Oh, why the rush? Can't a lady have a nice chat with her old friend?”

“I need to go home, Tiffany.”

“The night’s still young. I'm sure your mother won't mind. Speaking of your mother, I saw her on the stage. She was quite happy with her spinning wheel.”

“Oh yeah! She was waiting a while for it. Like everyone else up there.”

Tiffany’s smile disappeared. “I also saw her wink at you before getting off stage. Do you know why that is?”

“She wanted to say bye.”

“Are you sure? You are the King's assistant and she is part of your family.”

Asha took a step back. “What are you getting at, Tiffany?”

“Everyone knows the racket, Asha. The King's assistants get their wishes granted, and usually their family wishes too. Maybe even their closest friends.” Tiffany took a step forward.

“During your first year as his assistant, I told you my other wishes because he wouldn't take them. I remember those wishes, and I know they weren't granted.”

“I can't just convince the King to grant your wish! And I... stopped being friends with you a year ago!” She hesitated.

Valentino jerked as Tiffany dug her nails into his skin.

“You may have been on shaky grounds with me, but that doesn't excuse how you didn't tend to my needs!”

Asha lunged forward and yanked Valentino out of Tiffany's arms and made to run when two men appeared, blocking her path. One man was the same fellow that ran into Simon. The other was much larger and bulkier than him.

“Don't you consider friends to be your family?” Tiffany continued. “How come you were never home when I visited like before? How come you haven't sent me your letters anymore? How come no wish of mine that I gave you came about after nearly 3 years? The King was oddly polite with your mother so he was more than willing to fulfill her desires with her association to you. How did you even acquire this position without a care for the people.”

Asha still faced her new obstacles.

”Look at me when I'm talking!” Tiffany grabbed her sleeve to pull her closer. Asha yanked away but she held on, ribbing the cloak fabric. Valentino jumped down and rammed into Tiffany, making her lose her grip. The goat ran off past the men and into the city loudly bleating. “Hey, where are you-” Asha ran after him but the men took her by the arms and turned her around towards Tiffany, holding her in place.

“This... has..." It was happening again. "I don't... owe you anything.” It came out softer than Asha would like.

“You don't owe me anything?!”

She reached over and yanked off her mask. “Who was there to calm you down when you were getting ready for your interview with the King?” She continued “Who got you flowers to leave by your father on his birthday? Who got you a new sketchbook for your birthday? I have been so good to you and all I asked for in return were a few wishes, a little help for my needs. And you repay it all by making me sad during a festival!”

“I crawled to you at my most vulnerable moment to seek comfort only to be shut out because you had a busy life." She looked to the men holding her. "So I took matters into my own hands and got some friends who actually care about me." She looked back at Asha.

"As for you? You turned in a wish. The King granted it, didn’t he? How many people did you neglect when they asked you for the love that you offered. How many were left heartbroken because you were also "JuSt To BuSy" with the King and yourself.” Asha didn't respond to that. Tiffany gently lifted her chin with her finger. “Looking back at everything. I'm beginning to see why you lost so many friends in less than 2 years.”

Holding back tears, Asha knee kicked her under the chest. Tiffany buckled and backed up.

Before Asha could try anything with those holding her, Valentino returned and bit one of their legs. The bulkier man he bit looked down and kicked him off, only too suddenly let go of Asha. All his attention brought to the angry lynx that pounced onto his head. Tiffany looked up in frustration. “You… said… he could take care of the cat!” She stammered to the other man. “Wha- I did! How did it-” Before he could finish, a yellow and blue cape ensnared his head as Simon yanked him away from Asha. The man struggled and tried to back kick, in which Simon picked him up and threw him at the nearest tree like a ragdoll. Tiffany looked dumbfounded before she was brought into a chokehold by Dahlia with her cane, who looked ready to break her neck.

“Hey! Are you okay?” She asked. Asha was silent.

“Oh look, you even have a little entourage to save...” She fell silent as Simon pointed his sword at her with a look of silent rage. Slowly stepping back and sheathing his blade, Simon gently took Asha’s hand and led her away. Dahlia kicked Tiffany onto the ground before she picked Asha's mask and ran after them. Charo and Valentino followed behind her. Simon turned into an alleyway where Gabo and Bazeema rushed in before them. “We heard Valentino nearby. Did you find him? Oh stars! What happened to Asha?” Gabo asked. Asha was silent. A haunted look in her eyes. Simon sighed. “Asha was attacked by 3 people. Valentino found me and Dahlia and brought us to her.”

“WHAT!” Gabo shouted. He reached over and pulled out Simon’s sword. “Alright! Where are those punks!?”

“We’ve already handled them but we need to help Asha.” Dahlia said.

Bazeema walked over to Asha's side. “Do you want to sit down, Asha?” Bazeema asked gently. Silence. “Did they hurt you?” Again, silence.

Asha couldn’t form any words. Only the tears falling down her cheeks spoke of the storm brewing in her head. Everyone kept saying words. Words of comfort? Words of vengeance? Words of aid? Asha couldn't tell. Soon, it was just noise joining the brewing storm of voices in her head. It was all coming back to her.

The horror stories she heard from previous assistants. The soulless conversations of strangers that only wanted her to take their wishes to the King. Hecklers tracking her location to question if she turned in their wish or why the King won’t see their attendance.

Being crowded by countless people so she could jot down their wishes because she couldn’t risk any aggression by saying no. Inability to ask the King for help.

Asha’s breathing began to stagger.

The very people she aimed to help with her position turning her into a cash cow. With only a few to defend her from those who made her terrified to leave her home sometimes. Who envied that her wish might have been granted already. A wish that she knows hasn’t been granted yet.

She stepped back.

“Asha please. Talk to us.” Simon tried to assure. “How can we help you?” Asha slowly retreated.

Dahlia touched her hand. "What did Tiffany say to you?" Asha jerked back from the touch like she was bit.

Barely thinking, she ran away. She didn’t hear her friends calling for her to come back in her effort to stop the conversations and other memories from coming back.

She kept running out of the city and into the forest. No matter what she did, it all came flooding back and her eyes stung with tears.

All the friends she lost during her employment. The "friends" that only wanted to be with her because she might bring them their wishes.

Tiffany’s kindness during her darker moments. Tiffany using them to justify that she is in debt.

Becoming the King’s assistant because she was concerned with how tired everyone looked and wanted to help.

Too scared to leave her home once because people stalking her.

Exhausted and brokenhearted, she stopped and knelt down next to a tree, softly weeping. She finally took the chance to rest and have a fun evening. How did the evening go so wrong so quickly?

She felt something nudge her hip and turned around to see Valentino nuzzle her cloak. He looked up at her with sad eyes and walked over to snuggle into her side. She wiped her face with a hint of a smile, “Thanks buddy.”

She looked around the wilderness when her eyes landed on a Spanish moon moth on a nearby rock. It struggled to flap its wings, still wet from the previous drizzle. Asha reached over and held out her hand. The moth approached and crawled onto her palm.

Holding it carefully, she began to walk through the forest, trying to enjoy the scenery. As Asha walked, she found a well light house. Gazing at the window, she saw a carpenter set down a log and pull out his tools. In the blink of an eye, the carpenter shaped the perfect replica of a hand holding a wish. He had a wide smile looking at his creation but in less than he made it, he lost the smile and looked at his work with disinterest and walked away from it.

Asha looked at the statue with gloom. It was a wonderful statue.

She kept walking until she was on a bridge over a river. At the middle of the bridge, she looked down at swimming fish. Thinking about her wish that she wrote down while she was 17, to be one with the people. Still waiting for it come about. How much longer did she have to wait for change…

*cue in the gentle guitar

They say time will heal all your flays. So why does my heart still feel this ache

( Asha sadly looks at her reflection )

Was I so naive to believe. That I could relieve their woes and their hearts would be lightened

( She turns to the moth in her palm, reminiscing on the carpenter. )

But all my words fall on deaf ears. And now I go on to face all my greatest fears

( Valentino follows her with a concerned look as she walks off the bridge. )

But it's far from just. It cannot be that only I must fight back their apathy

So I look up the stars to guide me. And cast my burdens onto the sky

( She looks up at stars with a determined face )

If this is all that I have to drive me. Then may I be the first to stand in line

So I make this wish. For the world to change and us with it.

( The moth climbs to the tip of her fingers, stretching it's freshly wings )

So I make this wish. To have something more for than this

( She holds out her hands and... )

Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah, ah.

More than this, oh whoa, whoa, ah

( Valentino jumps happily with moths as Asha faces the night sky. )

I never knew I needed space to fly. When all forms of force had made me shy.

( Asha runs along the hills. )

There's a great fire scorching inside my heart. But now I need an idea on where to start

( She takes off the cloak and hangs it on a tree. She pulls out her sketchbook. )

Because in the constellations are revelations. Of how despair will be followed by the light.

Even if it's not in near sight. I will not stop doing what is right

( She starts flipping through pages of constellations of mythical heroic figures. )

Now I am locked in this feeling of anticipation. So let this be what I need to do.

I'm wading through the water and my head's held high. The way you always taught me to

( Asha looks a drawing of the tree with herself and her dad. The paper is illuminated and Asha looks up to see the North Star shining brighter than before. )

So I look out at the stars to guide me. I'm taking this to be a sign

( She runs along the path, jumping over rocks and roots. Valentino close behind. Her eyes still on the Star, shining through the tree branches. It leads her to the great tree at the cliff side. )

I'm sure they'll be challenges that find me. But I can take them on one at a time

( Asha climbs up the branches to steps along a steady branch, looking up at the star. )

So I make this wish. For the world to change and us with it.

So I make this wish. To have something more for us than this

( The wind picks up. Flower petals and leaves swirl around her and even dragonflies pass by her. )

Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah.

More than this, oh whoa, whoa, ah

So I make this wish. To have something more for us than this

( Asha sits down on the branch and "this" ends with a soft note. The Star shining on her face right before the music swells. )

A/N: WHY ARE SONGS SO HARD. I wrote down my song lyrics here because I don't feel like doing an entire comic for the sequence. Anyway, I got new characters and more antagonists! This will be chaotic and fun. Tiffany's dialogue was difficult but I think she was characterized well. We need to continue tradition of bastardly women with sausage roll hair. Enjoy some sad Asha.

Hang on to your socks. Altan will arrive next chapter.

@annymation @signed-sapphire @chillwildwave @wings-of-sapphire @oh-shtars @uva124 @cocoapowderpictures @your-ne1ghbor @rascalentertainments @mythartist21 @hopeyarts @flicklikesstuff @spectator-zee

[collabpartners]

Hazbin Hotel: The Contract of Blood Ep. 12

*Hey guys, we're back with another chapter/episode! This is published on April 9, 2024. If you guys like this episode/chapter, don't forget to leave a heart, reblog, and comment! That would be greatly appreciated. Warning: Violence, blood, gore, and vulgar language. Enjoy!*

“Husk...Husk...HENRY!!!”

Husk snaps his eyes open with a gasp, finding himself standing in front of the small white house by the edge of the cliff. The waves crashing are the only sounds he can hear at the moment. He holds his head with a small groan and realizes that he can feel his own skin and hair. He glances down to find his own dark skin covered by white splotches coming up to his arms. He finds himself with his beer belly under his bright red and white checkered shirt. His brown belt tightens a hold on his black slacks, which surprises him that he’s wearing bright colors. He looks up and sees the small white house.

Somehow, he remembers this house from a long time ago. He makes his way up to the house out of curiosity. He hears wind chimes ringing on the porch, dancing in the gentle breeze. He opens the door and finds the calm colors of green paint along the walls, clothed with porcelain decorations of blue flowers covering them. Next to him, there’s a wooden hanger with three hooks to hang the jackets, sweaters, and beanies.

Husk realizes he’s wearing the polished brown slip-ons and takes his shoes off. He blinks in surprise to find his feet covered by black socks. As he walks across the wooden floor, he hears someone humming softly. He enters through the small kitchen with clean black and white checkered floors and emerald countertops. He enters the dining room, finding an opened puzzle box on the polished wooden table. His eyes move to find scattered pieces of puzzles piled up by a dark-skinned wrinkle hand of a woman in a purple dress and purple hat that has a feather sticking up.

“Well, hello, stranger,” the woman responds with a smile.

“Mom?” Husk utters in recognition. “W-Where am I--?”

“You’re home now, Henry,” she replies while taking the edges out of the stack of puzzles. “Won’t you sit down and help me with this?”

Husk sits down with a brow raised in his human form. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

“I know. First time in a long while, has it?” she responds with a warm smile. “It’s nice to do this again.”

“A-Again?” Husk questions. Sudden flashes of his mother leaving the house while his drunk father throws a glass of whiskey enters his mind. He grabs his head with clenched teeth.

His mother watched him get beat up and yelled by his father. He can’t remembered why he’s yelling at Husk as a child, but the screams are worse than he realize. But his mother did nothing to stop and defend him. It was then, he watched his mother left him with his abusive father. She hadn’t returned to him since.

Husk slams his hands on the table, standing straight up with his eyes narrow at her. “Bullshit! You’ve abandoned me with that asshole! We’ve never done anything like putting the damn puzzles together! You were gone! You’ve been out of my life! Why the fuck are you in my head?!”

He watches her go silent. She hasn’t flinched from her seat when he slammed his hands on the table or yelled at her. She watches him with a blank stare. He can’t tell if she is filled with guilt and regret or confusion.

She frowns and looks down at the puzzle pieces, continuing to take out the edge pieces. “You were left in pieces, haven’t you?”

Husk blinks in surprise at her question.

“It’s no wonder you became a cat--bird--thing in Hell. Heh, I know cats used to be your favorite animals before I left. You want one, but your father would’ve killed the poor thing without knowing it. You used to be the newspaper boy, riding on your little bicycle and throwing newspaper at the neighbors’ doors. You start working in casinos, which helps grow your love of magic and gambling. You’ve looked at the bottom of the bottle every day, wondering why you’re still alive. You’ve died of a heart attack once you reach seventy-five, never seeing the Light. You became an overlord at one point, but someone has your soul on a leash. Now, you’re in a loving relationship with your boyfriend.”

He tilts his head in confusion.

“I remembered every detail of you.”

He starts to tear up and wipes his tears away. “This is not real.”

“Maybe not. But the visions you’ve been having are,” she says while pulling out edge pieces.

In one of the edge pieces, Husk can see Stolas standing in front of his daughter, Octavia, with a protective arm in front of her to protect her from the shadow with a bloody knife. There are tears running down his face while Octavia appears horrified at what’s ahead of them.

In the other edge piece, Husk can see Charlie watching something in horror, black tentacles with green outlines surrounding and stopping her so that she wouldn’t dare spring into action.

Shining on the other edge piece, there’s Morrigan attempting to rip Fizz’s robotic limbs off one by one by the gang members. Fizz’s face contorts of anguish and pain.

Husk blinks to find another edge piece, noticing Moxxie and Blitz fighting against Striker and Crimson, bloodied and bruised.

Alastor and Vox are fighting each other in another edge piece of the puzzle.

Val holds Angel hostage, the pink and purple chains are firmer and tighter around Angel’s neck. They are sitting at the other side of the poker table with Val smirking and Angel appearing to be scared.

“Your visions are like puzzles,” his mother interrupts his thoughts, gaining his attention. “You’ll see fragments of what will or will not happen. It all depends on what path you and your friends will choose.”

Husk sees another edge piece of Rosie, except it appears to be Rosie barely taking off her mask, purple silk dress and blonde hair flowing to the side. A gasp escapes his lips, almost in terror.

“If you keep seeing the same thing, then it will happen whether you choose a path to avoid it or not,” she replies, finally done finding all the edge pieces. She puts them together, almost like he’s still seeing fragments of memories.

“How do we stop them?”

“Stop who?”

“The Vees! Morrigan and Orais! They’re going to destroy the realms and kill us all! They’re going to darken the Light and it’s only a matter of time before any of us can stop it. How do we stop it?”

She frowns and leans back against her seat. “You can’t if the pieces don’t fit together.”

“The pieces? Forget the damn pieces! Why can’t these visions tell me directly what’s going on instead of making up these puzzle-pieces bullshit?!”

“If things were given to you straight-forward, then you’re not really forging your own path to redemption, are you?”

Husk blinks in surprise. “What are you saying?”

“If things are given to you for the next steps, you wouldn’t be making choices. Your visions aren’t supposed to your guides. Your visions are supposed to show you the futures that you and your friends might have. Your visions are supposed to warn the others of danger. But you can’t stop futures, son. You can only watch them approach you,” she responds softly.

Husk sighs, looking at the edge pieces forming a circle. He tilts his head in confusion.

She hears the wind picking up the speed from outside, the light flickering above them.

“It’s time to go, Husk,” she responds with a sigh.

He glances at her. “What’s happening?”

“The future.”

He watches the house ripped apart, breaking all the porcelain dishes and tearing up the new paint. He turns to find the black hole in the red skies, sucking everything. He feels himself being pulled as he grabs onto the wooden pole planted on the ground. He looks up to find his mother having her skin and flesh torn off of her bones in a quick matter and flying up to the black hole. He closes his eyes, holding on a while longer.

“Husk...Husk...baby, can you hear me? HUSK!”

He starts to scream while his vision of the vortex seems to suck everything off of the earth. But it’s not the only thing that’s seen.

Tornadoes tearing through the forests, lifting up the dirt and trees up in the air.

Tsunamis crashing through the cities and flooding them, knocking down skyscrapers.

Earthquakes that creates large cracks that leads that lets the victims of it to fall into the lava.

Sinkholes sucking the earth into an eternal hole.

Volcanoes sending fireballs and lava oozing out from the top, coming down to the island cities.

“Husk! Husk! Wake up, it’s just a dream! Wake up!”

~.~

Husk snaps his eyes open with a scream, sweating around his furry face. He blinks to find Angel by his side.

“You okay, Husky?” Angel asks, watching his boyfriend breathing in and out heavily.

Husk looks around to find the others gather around him to make sure he’s okay. He looks down to find himself being furry again with only red swim trunks on.

He leans his head against Angel’s arms, placing his paw on his chest. However, Angel’s hand rubs his hand over Husk’s hand over his chest.

“It’s okay. It’s just a dream,” Angel reassures Husk.

Husk shakes his head. “No. No. No. This isn’t a dream. This--this is all real. We’re fucked!”

“Uh...is he okay?” Blitz questions with a brow arched.

Stolas hears the rustling of the leaves outside and senses something is off, walking away to look outside.

Husk shakes his head. “Our worlds are getting torn apart. Hell! Earth! Heaven! They’re all getting torn apart. There is this black hole that sucks everything up in some fucking sky. Many people are going to die! There’s going to be no one left alive! We have to do something!”

“He’s right,” Charlie determines. “We need to head back down to Hell and take down Morrigan and Orais along with the Vees.”

“Oh, the Vees will be easy to deal with,” Alastor responds with a wave of a hand. “I know just how to kill off Vox’s signal.”

“No, Alastor, you don’t want to fight Vox,” Husk begs.

“Oh dear Husk, you shouldn’t be worried---”

“You’re going to fucking die if you try to fight off Vox right now!”

Alastor growls, his antlers growing to the sides of his head. “Are you saying that I’m weak?”

“No! I’m trying to say that he’s going to kill you! They’re all going to kill you!” Husk screams in panic, his arms trembling.

“Husky--”

“We can’t stay here! We-We have to do something!”

“Baby. Baby, come here.” Angel picks Husk up like a cat and hugs him from behind. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

“No, it’s not okay,” Husk replies, shrugs off his boyfriend’s hold. “Nothing is going to be okay!”

“Husk, you’re freaking us out,” Fizz responds in fear.

Stolas looks out of the window and widens his eyes at the foreign sight. He blinks his red eyes, his white pupils shrinking in fear. “W-What is that?”

The others look to see the tornado tearing through the woods, moving towards their campsite.

Blitz notices it coming closer. “Oh, fuck! It’s coming towards us!”

Alastor slams his staff down from within the cabin, using the black liquid shield to cover the entire campsite and protect them from the incoming tornado.

Husk starts to breathe heavily. “It’s happening...It’s happening!”

“W-What’s happening?” Bella whispers to Charlie and Vaggie.

Both of the women don’t have an answer for her daughter.

Unbeknownst to them all, there are only five more tornadoes roaming around the forest they are in, tearing through the trees and setting the forest on fire, sucking up the fire.

~.~

The dark swirling clouds reign over in Hell, creating a vortex to send the black birds down to their as the music begins creepily with the choir singing in the background.

“Give in to the dark, Give in to the dark.

Give in to the dark, Give in to the dark.

Give in to the dark, Give in to the dark.

Morrigan steps out towards the city with her staff and sings lowly while the choir sings in the background.

“Since I have the powers of the seven rings,

All throughout Heaven, Hell, and Earth.”

Morrigan sings with the choir in unison as she sends out the bugs towards the Pentagram City, letting them spread throughout the Pride Ring.

“I send the plagues and the pests!

Into your rooms!”

The citizens are getting torn apart by the wild raptors limb by limb and eating them alive.

“Into your beds!”

The couple sleeping together in the Lust Ring feels the bugs crawling on their naked bodies, which is now common in the Lust Ring.

“Into your clubs!”

The clubs are now on fire, with people having boiling skins running out and screaming in pain as if they’re on eternal fire.

“Into your streets!”

The streets of the Greed Ring are filled with rats, biting and eating the demons and sinners alike alive.

“Into your food!”

On Earth, the food the people are eating in Los Angeles on Earth has grown rotten and filled with mold, letting bugs crawl out of it.

“Into your drinks!”

On Earth, the rats flood into the coffee shops and restaurants, getting into the humans’ drinks and trying to eat their flesh as the humans run out of the streets.

“Upon your skin!”

On Earth, the girls’ skin starts to boil and rot under the heat of the sun, causing them to scream in pure pain and agony.

“Upon your organs!”

Back to Hell, one of the buff demon’s chest burst out, his beating heart obtained by the rat crawling inside of him and taking his organs.

“Upon your hair until you grow bald!”

In a different and smaller city on Earth, every human has their hair falling out with bugs nesting on their scalps.

“In your dreams, in your waking hours!”

On Earth, the blonde little girl wakes up from her sleep with cockroaches all over her, screaming out for her parents to rescue her from her bedroom filled with cockroaches.

“Until you break, until you die!”

The music grows more the chaos unfolds both Hell and Earth. Morrigan and the choir sings boldly as everything is catching fire in both Hell and Earth, being observed by the Vees.

“I send chaos! I send disunity!

All to snuff out the Light!”

The music pauses as the gang back at the camp look at the city in the distance on fire.

Moxxie and Millie hold hands while Sir Pentious stands in front of Cherri, Nifty, and Emily to protect them.

Rosie gasps in shock at the sight in front of her while exchanging gazes with Alastor, who is still putting up the shield.

Eleanor and Sebastian hugs Nora close to them like Vaggie and Charlie are holding Bella close.

Stolas and Blitz stands in front of Loona and Octavia in a protective stance, as if they are ready to fight with whoever is causing this chaos.

Fizz breathes heavily in fear, trembling at the sight.

Angel looks at the skies turning red above them.

Everything is frozen around Husk as he starts to sing.

“Once I thought I am doing the right thing.

Once I thought the chance of

Breaking free from our chains

Can be so simple.”

He looks to see the vortex starting to form in the red skies, breathing heavily as he hears Morrigan and the choir singing in the background.

“I send the tornadoes from the skies!”

Husk’s vision is interrupted by a tornado lifting up the earth.

“I send an earthquake to shake your cities!”

Husk groans when he sees another vision of an earthquake happening at a different city, throwing his arms down and singing with pain in his voice.

“Now, more than ever, I want to be free from the curses!

Foreseeing the destruction of all living beings

Is the last power I wanted!”

Morrigan and the choir sings in the background from Hell as the hail rains into Pentagram City.

“I send the hails from the clouds!”

The hurricanes sweep through all over the world of Europe, Asia, North America, and South America while Morrigan and the choir sings in the background.

“I send the hurricanes sweeping through your nations!”

Charlie starts to cry from the camp as she sings with a heartbroken tone.

“If this happens to my home,

All this suffering and agony,

Oh, how it twists like a knife to my chest!

Now innocents and sinners suffered

Under their darkness and control!”

Morrigan overlooks the chaos going on throughout all of Hell with a sly grin. She raises her staff to summon the locusts and sings with the choir.

“I send the locusts in the wind.

Such as the realms have ever seen!”

On Earth, the locusts are tearing through crops of farmlands, leaving no food for the farmers to harvest. The blood rain starts to pour throughout all earth and Hell, boiling the people’s skins and covering them with blood.

Morrigan and the choir croons in unison.

“I send the blood rain of millions of lives,

Until there’s nothing left behind!

I send disorder, I send the scorch!

All to snuff out the Light!”

From Heaven’s Gates, Sera goes to St. Peter to check on him until she notices the creeping darkness going towards Heaven. She looks down to find Earth and Hell being in absolute chaos, tearing at the seams. She gasps in shock, realizing that the dark is coming to Heaven sooner than the Pure Angels thought.

Sera sings in her most worried tone.

“Oh, you who causes destruction,

Why must you do this?”

She watches the typhoons destroying the land of the Philipians and the bombs dropping at the Middle East, hearing Morrigan and the choir singing in the background.

“I send the typhoons! I send the bombs!”

Sera shakes her head and looks to St. Peter to sing to him.

“We must protect the Light now!”

Morrigan and the choir sings from Hell as she points her staff towards the light.

“All to snuff out the Light above!”

The angels stand in front of Heaven’s Gate with Sera, their weapons ready to fight the darkness. Lute stands by Sera’s side with more exterminator angels ready to fight the darkness.

Sera sings beautifully.

“We must protect the Light!”

The music pauses as Orais is overlooking every country, city, and continent in the Earth to see the destruction unfolding from his cauldron. He also overlooks all seven rings of Hell being overunned by chaos, tearing through and boiling the demons and sinners alike alive. Then he sings with passion and mockery of Lucifer, who’s sitting next to Ozzie and Bee.

“Now that we have the advantage!

Now that we have the upper hand!

How can you stop us, your Majesty?”

Morrigan and the choir sings in the background as the oceans on Earth boils and the thunders roar in the skies above the lands.

“I send the boiling water, I send the thunders!”

Orais corners a maniacal smile and towers over Lucifer, singing angrily.

“Let my heart be filled with glee!

For an hour of joy is amongst us!

It’s only the beginning!

I won’t stop until I destroy everything you love!”

Morrigan and the choir sings as every child and adult dies from the chaos left and right from all over the world.

“I send death, I send the powers of the sins!

All to snuff out the Light!”

Morrigan, Orais, and the choir sings together.

“We will--”

Sera sings, getting her weapons out to fight the darkness.

“We will--”

Charlie’s eyes turns red with white pupils, narrowing her brows in determination.

“I will--”

Husk looks up and starts to croon.

“I will--”

Morrigan, Orais, and the choir sings together again to finish their sentence.

“--snuff out the Light!”

Sera sings, harmonizing with Orais and Morrigan.

“--protect the Light!”

Charlie joins in with Sera, Morrigan, and Orais to sing her own intentions in unison.

“--fight for my home!”

Husk jumps in with Charlie, Sera, Morrigan, and Orais to sing in unison with them all for the final note.

“--break free from these chains!”

The song ends with a beat drop, leaving only Sera and the angels charging towards the darkness to fight against it. However, the darkness starts to creep up among the exterminator angels, including Lute, almost tearing her apart.

The dark overtakes the rest of the angels easily, storming through Heaven’s gates to get to the Light in the middle of Heaven. The angels are captured by the darkness, including Sera, being dragged away from Heaven’s Gates as they were kicking and screaming down towards Hell.

~.~

Blitz watches the lake boiling in front of them along with the forest fire. “Well, Husk is right. We’re pretty fucked.”

Vaggie notices everyone in the camp starting to whisper in panic and clears her throat. “Alright, listen, everyone! We’re not going to solve anything if we sit here and panic! So, we need a solid plan to get back into Hell and deal with those bitches once and for all.”

“Hell yeah!” Cherri cheers for Vaggie’s speech.

“Uh, question, do we have to go back now?” Stolas asks with uncertainty in his tone.

“We have to!” Fizz, the clown jester imp, answers. “Oz is down there and-and-and I can’t imagine what’s going to happen to him. He-He--I don’t want to--He means--” Fizz appears to be ready to break down crying.

Loona sees this and places her paw on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Mom might be down there too! We need to find her and rescue her too!” Octavia responds boldly. “Even if she’s a B-I-T-C-H.”

Stolas laughs nervously at Octavia’s spelling.

“Yeah, Bee is stuck down there too,” Loona responds.

“Wait a second, why are we planning on saving the realms?” Alastor questions the group.

“Because we’re the idiots that live in the realms, dumbass!” Blitz shouts at the radio demon.

“We’re going to need an army,” Rosie replies with her hands on her hips. “A big one! I know where to get ‘em.”

“I know where we can take shelter in Hell,” Vaggie adds, holding Charlie’s hands. “She might help us with the weapons.”

“It’d be good if we split into groups,” Stolas responds. “Charlie, Vaggie, Bella, Nora, Eleanor, and Sebastian can go find us the shelter we need when we arrive. Alastor, Nifty, Rosie, Husk, Angel, Sir Pentious, Cherri, and Emily can go get an army for us to use. Then the rest of us can go and find my Grimoire and maybe find Stella.”

Octavia smiles brightly, earning a frown from Loona.

Stolas opens the portal back to Hell. “Then I believe we got ourselves a plan.”

With that said, they all enter back to Hell. 

To Be Continued...

[raine-or-shine]

outside the box

✩summary: wednesday’s writers block has left her irritation more prominent than usual, but enid and thing are quick to notice—and quick to help

✩characters: lee!wednesday, ler!enid (wenclair)

✩word count: 1.6k

✩warnings: This is a tickle fic, if that’s not your thing, scroll <3

“There! You’re all done!” 

A few thumps of glee, and the appendage flexed its fingers, giving a thumbs up. Enid clapped her hands together with a prideful grin at her latest achievement. After some convincing, Thing’s nails now glimmered with a glossy coat of charcoal polish. Tapping a few fingers together, it then waved around, and Enid nodded with a smile, “Well yeah, it’ll take a few more minutes to dry, but you look amazing!” 

The door creaked open, and the severed hand spun around, hopping up and down with glee to greet Wednesday, who simply looked it up and down as she approached Enid’s bed. “Hmm. It’s a new look, for sure. Maybe it’ll stick after a week.” Thing only waved a few fingers, before tapping Enid’s hand followed by a thankful snap. 

“Glad I could help! You look fantastic, don’t worry.” She assured, and they exchanged fist bumps before Wednesday cleared her throat, making her way over to her desk. “I see you and Thing are getting along nicely.” 

“Yup! We’ve had a few heart-to-hearts, and I learned how much he needed some reimagination for himself—sooo, that’s the nails!” She hopped to her feet, her tail flicking to the side as she tried to get a glance at Wednesday’s expression, but as usual remained blankly concentrated on her next task. She sat to continue her writing, the steady stream of clicks from the typewriter now filling the room. But as soon as they had started, they ended, Wednesday squeezing her eyes shut with a sigh, Thing climbing up her desk and drumming a few fingers against the wooden top. 

“I’m fine.” Wednesday mumbled, her eyes opening to an unconvinced finger wag from the appendage, and Enid's brow furrowing in confusion. “He’s right, you’ve been acting weird—well, weirder than usual.” Wednesday turned her gaze to meet Enid’s, the girl's ears perked in curiosity. 

“I’m stuck.” The discouraged air to her voice only proved her sincerity, as she pushed her chair back with a constrained creak against the wooden planks below them. Enid’s mind remained at a standstill for a few seconds, blinking before raising an eyebrow, “Writer’s block?” Wednesday gave a silent nod, frustration evident with an exhale. Enid folded her arms in thought, pacing over back to her side of the room. “Wait wait—what always helps me when I’m bored—”

“…Boredom is not the same thing as writer’s block—”

“Well I know that, but they’re both unavoidable states of frustration right? In this case, like a block of your creative flow!” Thinking out loud at this point, her tail flicks only confirming her concentration as she paced about. Also joining the determined effort to help, Thing hopped down from the tabletop, scampering over to the foot of Enid’s bed, where she now sat. It extended an index finger, and Enid’s ears perked up once again, her eyes now wide with resolution. “That’s it—Wednesday!”

The other lifted her head in response, awaiting Enid’s words. “Try to think outside the box…trapping yourself in a box of what you want to write about can limit your ability to write or think!” A few lengthy moments of silence, now wondering if she’d even heard her, caused her brow to furrow as she rose to her feet again. “...Wednesday?”

Her voice fell on deaf ears, as the other only remained silent, eyes glued to the typewriter. Enid’s ears fell, her eyes now focused directly on her, as she gradually made her way over to the desk. Thing wasn’t far behind, even crawling up the legs of the chair to rest on its top. Wednesday was either deep in thought, or didn’t care enough to respond to either of them. It wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary, but Enid found her eagerness to help fend off the writer's block that plagued her partner more defining than a simple zoning out. 

Thing patience however, was immune to Wednesday’s apathy. Her surprised jolt from a swift poke to her side had brought her back to reality, feeling her cheeks reddening as she inhaled sharply. “Do that again and you’ll lose a finger.” The vexed tone in her voice only made Thing hop down from his pedestal to the floor, while Wednesday still attempted a look of irritation, which was almost ruined by the red hue making itself more visible by the moment. Enid couldn’t help but notice as much, her ears perking up with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. She was blushing? Oh, this was too good. 

“Oh my god—Wednesday, are you ticklish?!” Her face lit up with a wide grin, the excitement of a puppy strongly resembled through her now swishing tail. Thing’s fingers drumming against the floor somehow was enough of an expression for Enid to pick up on, Wednesday quickly rising to her feet, “The last person to tickle me lost a finger. Try me.” She uttered, her composure slowly slipping away as Enid rocked from side to side with that shit-eating grin, a strategy clearly brewing. “Mhm, like that time you were also going to smother me in my sleep? Bury my snood in the graveyard?” 

Wednesday swallowed dryly, blinking in response as she slowly backed a few steps back. The giggles from Enid were enough to convince her of her fate, her heart skipping a beat when she placed Thing atop her shoulder. “What it sounds like to me is that you have quite a few empty threats, wouldn’t you say?” Still at a loss for words, Wednesday didn’t know what to do besides remain standing. Making a run for it surely wouldn’t end well—the last thing she wanted was for anyone else to see what fate would possibly await her. 

“I’m not.” She finally managed after a minute, startling herself with her sudden difficulty with making eye contact. “…ticklish, I mean.” She clarified with a slight furrow of her brow, realizing the need to clarify when Enid’s head cocked to the side in confusion briefly. What a feeling, a very odd one at that, she couldn’t recognize at all. It was like butterflies in her stomach but, why wasn’t she anxious? Why was she intrigued? 

Before she could finish that thought, Thing’s fingers drumming against her sides had her preoccupied with a lip bite, swallowing back any giggles that threatened to make an appearance as she crumpled to the floor. Afraid if she spoke she’d lose composure, she swatted at her companion with furrowed brow. Enid only skipped over not long after, giggling as she gave some quick squeezes to her sides, her face lighting up when Wednesday’s lips quivered into a faint smile. 

“Well, I seem to still have all ten of my fingers—and you seem like you might be ticklish.” Enid’s words only earned a death glare from the other, but it quickly crumbled away with the sudden prodding up her ribs from the appendage, replaced with a wide grin, giggles following close behind. Enid couldn’t help but gush over her reactions, her eyes lighting up when she saw her smile only grow.

“Wednesday—you have dimples?! Oh my god—you're adorable!” She found herself laughing along with the other, the comment making Wednesday’s cheeks flush darker. Thing halted its movements for a moment, jumping up and flexing its fingers briefly. Enid grinned from ear to ear, suddenly scribbling her fingers up her ribs, “Oh, go for the ribs? Ahaww—you’re right!” She cooed, Wednesday’s laughter picking up in volume as she squeezed around her upper ribs. Enid’s eyes only widened with a grin at every new reaction she discovered, laughing at a few snorts she didn’t expect. 

“God I had no idea you could laugh like this! You’re adorable, holy shit!” She snickered at the weak shove Wednesday attempted at her hands, which only pinched at her sides for a moment, before halting her attack. “Oh my god,” Enid repeated again, her grin still present as she tilted her head a bit, trying to get a good look at Wednesday’s expression. And to her pleasant surprise, she was still smiling. In fact, not even a second later she was leaning into Enid’s touch, which only encouraged a growing flush against her face. 

“You had fun didn't you?” Enid sang with a few additional pokes to the other’s torso, her tail thumping happily against the floorboards as Wednesday dissolved into another quite giggle fit, offering nothing in response but laughter. “I-I’ll get you—“ She managed to get out, still giggling even when Enid withdrew her fingers. 

“Mhmmm, I know I know! But now I can get you.” She smirked with a playful hum, Wednesday rolling her eyes once Thing waved around. “This whole thing was your fault, wasn’t it?” The hand was still for a moment, before swiftly scampering off. Enid chuckled, “Don’t be mad at him, it was my idea.” Her ears drooped as her cheeks flushed slightly, averting eyes, “You were so in your head and upset about writing so…I just wanted to help get your mind off of it?” She offered a lopsided smile, and Wednesday blinked, before nodding slowly. 

“I see what you meant…I appreciate the efforts.” She mumbled the last bit, staring up at the ceiling now. What was it she said about thinking outside a box? A box was restricting…isolating. 

With a sigh, Wednesday rose to her feet. “Maybe you and Thing could stay. I think having company might help me get out of this…box.” She stated, before walking over to her typewriter and cracking her knuckles. Enid couldn’t help but smile, her gaze fixed on the girl in front of her. Wednesday Addams was difficult to read for sure, but that’s only if she wanted to make it hard for someone to. Counting herself lucky to be one that she didn’t feel the need to hide behind any mask, Enid stood with stretch. 

“What chapter are you on again?”

[pinkiepiebones]

if it’s ok can I request gardener renfield opening up a greenhouse :-)

Years after the death of Dracula, Robert Montague Renfield buys his first home. Well, technically it's his second home, but the first one was purchased well over a hundred years ago and for all he knows might have been knocked down and paved over to create a new by-pass.

Anyway.

Robert's settled in New Orleans, because it is where Dracula was dismembered and mixed with concrete and dumped into the sewer system and he'd like to keep an eye out for any vampiric shenanigans that may arise, but also because he's just tired of moving. He sells most of the objects d'art he's been lugging around the past century. He puts some in a storage unit though, out of a sour mix of nostalgia and dread- the stuffed raven, the stuffed albino fox, a few paintings, some bolts of fabric. The coffin.

"Dude, someone would pay millions for that coffin," his best friend Rebecca Quincy asserted the day Robert wheeled it out of the rented U-Haul and into storage. "There's some weird old rich guy out there who would totally want it. You don't have to keep it."

Robert swiped his arm across his brow. "Who'd buy this thing? Honestly? It's a lead box lined with the fur of some extinct animal. Give me a name."

Rebecca thought a moment. "Nicholas Cage?"

"Hasn't he already got a pyramid tomb?"

"Oh yeah... Well maybe he'd use Dracula's coffin as a coffee table or somethin'."

Robert shook his head. "Even if I had a way to contact Mister Cage, I doubt even someone of his, ah, eccentricity would want this." Robert shoved the coffin into the darkest corner of the storage unit. "No, it'll do just fine tucked back here."

Robert's new home is small-but bigger than his apartment with two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, and a full acre of yard space- and what the home renovation shows would call a "fixer upper" with "good bones." It makes him happy to work on it. He listens to music and the occasional psychology podcast as he polishes the original wood floors or paints the walls or rewires the light switches. It's therapeutic- he's gone from caring for a monster to caring for himself, and he has found that he enjoys making things bright.

The yard is a paradise for Robert. In the front yard he sticks a couple of those cheery plastic flamingoes he'd wanted for decades and puts in a white picket fence. He gives his home what the home renovation shows would call "great curb appeal." Perhaps superstitiously now, Robert makes sure to not buy a "welcome" mat, and he plants wolfsbane just inside the fence's perimeter. In his head he plays a very old memory of Doctor Van Helsing waving the wolfsbane in his face. It turned out that the man had been right- Dracula fucking hated this stuff.

His backyard is the bigger of the two yards and he decides quite early on he wants a greenhouse. Rebecca helps him build it (mostly because he promises to take her out somewhere nice for dinner, but also because she's his friend and she loves how happy he is). It's small, maybe a bit bigger than two tool sheds, but the inside walls have sturdy, wide shelves where he can start seeds, there's a toolbox with drawers for labels and waterproof markers and seed packets. Bags of soil and watering cans are carefully tucked under the shelves and garden spades varying in length hang from a little cork board propped up against a wall. Robert even refurbished an old battery powered radio and has it set to a station playing classical music, since that seems to be what plants like the most. There's fresh white gravel making up the floor and a thermometer hangs from a string of fairy lights tacked to the wooden frame of the glass door. Plans for a garden are scribbled on a pad of paper beside the toolbox.

Robert and Rebecca are on his little patio one evening, sitting in refurbished mid-century lawn chairs and drinking fizzy alcoholic drinks. Rebecca gestures to the greenhouse. "That turned out pretty good, didn't it?"

Robert nods.

"You ever think about scaling it up?"

"What do you mean?"

Rebecca sets her drink down to gesticulate as she talks. "I mean, you still own the hospital, right? If you pay someone to demolish the building, that'd be a great place to build a greenhouse that people could come buy stuff from." She picks up her drink and sips. "You could even have classes, y'know, on proper plant care. People would love that shit."

Robert smiles. "I guess I never really thought about it. Might feel good to share what I do," he pauses to take a drink, "especially now that what I do isn't, you know, terrible."

Rebecca chuckles.

[fitemilk]

long post so settle in

when i was at the nail tech school tour, the owner (director, i think is her official title?) asked me why i wanted to be a nail tech. this is something my therapist prepared me for!

___

one of the goals i had for therapy was gaining enough confidence to career switch. i was unemployed for the longest time, had a brief but unsuccessful stint at a local game store, and have been unemployed since. i refused to go back to retail and needed to switch.

my therapist would always notice my nails during a session. they are well-manicured and the color was always different each session. they are also my natural nails.

after a couple of unsuccessful tries at finding something out there for me, she asked to see my nails up close. she got me talking. since we communicate using telehealth, i showed her the nail polish collection i’ve amassed for 18 years, neatly organized in an ikea file cabinet.

she was impressed. nearly every color has its own drawer. she remarked, “i think this is what you were meant to do, patton. i think you should pursue this.”

i told her a story. it goes like this:

——-

when i was a little kid, my mom would do my nails. my mom had a modest polish collection, stored in a small wooden box. they were older polishes, based on what i currently know. not from the 90s, when i was little, but earlier. some of them probably dated back to the 70s, but they were still good. back then, the range of colors was nowhere near as wide as it is now. it was pinks and reds, maybe a plum purple. my mom would paint my nails pink.

then in 1995 (i don’t know why i remember that year, but i do), the game changed. revlon had just put out its street wear line. finally! more than just pinks and reds and maybe that purple. there were blues, greens, yellows, even a black! i went gaga. my first one was a dark blue.

my auntie got me a markwins polish set for christmas when i was 13. it was HUGE. i think it was a 30-polish set. while everything else in the house may have been an absolute clusterfuck of a hoarder mess, i held on to my polishes.

when i moved out and out-of-state, i had three polishes in my possession — a frosty blue from mary kate & ashley (yeah, those twins), a orange from wild n’ crazy, and a sheer sky blue from revlon called bright sky. i still have the latter two! and i did my nails with bright sky last week!

i began to amass my collection once more. my mom was diagnosed with cancer shortly after i left home, and by 2009, my mom was dying. she signed a dnr (do not resuscitate) order, and by late summer/early fall, the time had come. my mom was in too much pain to continue. she was in at-home hospice care, in a hospital bed, hooked up to a morphine drip. i made my final visit. i was spending what little time i had left with my mom, watching tv, getting out any final stories we wanted to share.

my mom wanted me to do her nails one last time. she knew i brought polish with me, i always did any time i traveled. she picked out two colors — korean fruit and flower stand by carolyn new york for her hands (a light peachy coral crème) and cherry glaze by sally hansen salon for her feet (a slightly jelly neutral red)

it came around full circle.

my therapist was right. i was meant to do this.

————

when the director asked me why i wanted to be nail tech, i simply said, “my mom would paint my nails when i was a little kid. when i was older, i would paint hers. it’s something that i’ve always loved.”

she loved it. when i was leaving, she said, “i thing you’re going to do well here. you’ve got style, your pink hair is very nice!”

—-

and that’s my long-winded non-linear story

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

An Offer

Warnings: coercion, threats, slightly blackmail-ish, intimidation, entrapment, implied noncon

This is dark!(lumberjack/nomad) Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Steve makes you an offer you can’t refuse.

Based on this drabble request:

Nomad Steve Rogers + “You'll never find anyone better than me.” + Lumberjack AU + Smashed and broken dreams of a good career forces reader back home. With a degree in her hand but no real chance of finding a good job reader has to accept any job she finds and Steve isn’t making it easy cause he wants her so he sabotages any job opportunity to make her depended on him. This really hits home 😭. Sorry 😭.

When you sat in your college lectures, you never expected to end up there. Never expected to be carrying armfuls of wood to a large stack, splinters catching in your gloves as each piece clacked between the noise of the logs being split. You didn’t expect to be working for pennies, busting your ass for hours, just to pay for the room above the liquor store in your hometown.

You didn’t expect any of it. It was a surreal nightmare. It was as if that purgatory could never let you go. The small town’s always claimed what was theirs. Blood grown of that soil could not venture far before the roots dragged them back, a constricting coil around the throat.

Another log split, almost exploding as the two halves fell on either side of the stump. Steve took one and chopped it again, then the other. Perfect quarters for you to pile in your arms and add to the mounting stack. Your sweat soaked the flannel coat, the same kind your father wore when you were a child, the same that everyone in town seemed to have somewhere in their closets.

Steve rested the head of the axe on the stump and leaned on it as he watched you.

“Think that’ll do,” he said as you heard him scratch his beard, “supposed to be a mild winter.”

“Mild? Around here? You know that just means the snow stops at the knee, right?”

You carried the last of the wood to the pile and laid it out in the niches perfectly. It was like a Tetris game, every piece had its place. You clapped off your gloves and looked back at Steve as he shook out his jacket and pulled it back on. Even as his work left him sweaty, you didn’t know how he could stand to take it off and bear the bitter winds in only a tee.

“My knees are higher than yours,” he said, “think I’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh,” you put your hands on your hips and looked out at the trees, the sun setting behind them in an amber haze.

“Hey,” he interrupted your sightseeing, “how about you stay for dinner? I finally tried that chili recipe…”

“You? Cooking?” you shook your head, “so that’s why I’m out here lugging wood.”

“Is that yes?”

“Do you have pepto?” you joked, “sure, guess I could. Save me the trouble of opening a can at home.”

You followed him inside as he held the door for you. You shoved your gloves in your flannel pocket and hung it as you wiggled out of your boots. Usually you tidied and did the household chores as Steve worked outside. It wasn’t much of a job but there was nothing to be had in the lifeless town. Still, even with the work you found in the city, you couldn’t afford even a closet to live in.

The house was nice, big. The country land was cheap and as Steve told it, he built the entire thing himself. It was a wooden castle with better amenities than most of the antique houses in town. He bragged about how he chose every countertop and cut down every leg of every chair and sanded and polished the thick table over a willowy fall.

But you wondered how he ended up there. He wasn’t from the town and his accent was not of the nearby metropolis. He must be from far away. You could see it was an escape from the life he didn’t talk about.

You sat at the table as he clinked around in the kitchen. He came out with two red bowls and set one before you as he sat at the corner near you. He handed you a spoon with a wooden handle and you twirled it as you watched the chili steam.

“Did you make these too?” you asked.

“Ha,” he said dryly and stirred his bowl.

“Well…” you shrugged and looked around.

He smiled at you and leaned his head back until his neck cracked. He let his spoon rest and rubbed his jaw. It twitched and he looked out the big bay windows of the dining room, the ridged bark and overgrown grass staring back.

“I…” he shifted and leaned on the arm of the chair, “I slipped your pay in your jacket.”

“Oh, thanks,” you were embarrassed to talk about money. He knew how little you made even if he did pay you generously for the work you did.

“But… I did want to talk about it, er, about…” he sighed and rested his chin in his hand as he traced his lower lip in thought. He sat up and cleared his throat, “we get along, don’t we?”

“Sure,” you blew on a spoonful and tasted the chili. It was spicy but not bad.

“I know how hard it’s been, Maggie, Lester, Jeff… tough break.”

You swallowed and sat back. You frowned. “How did you…” your resume had been turned down by almost every business owner and manager in town.

“It’s a small place, like that box you’re living in.”

“Steve--”

“I’m not saying it to embarrass you but… because I… want to…” he gripped his spoon, thought about having a bite, then let it go again, “I want to make you an offer.”

“You pay me more than you should for doing your chores,” you left your spoon in the bowl and ran your nails up and down your jeans, picking at the little metal snap by the pocket.

“That’s not--” he squared his shoulders and all humour left his face. He bit down and the vein in his head surged, “you could live here. The place is more than big enough… lonely.”

“I can’t--”

“Please, just listen,” he raised his palms, “I’m lonely and you’re in a bind. We could help each other.”

You squinted and shook your head. He took a breath and leaned forward. He reached under the table and touched your knee. He slid his hand up your thigh until it met yours and you stopped him.

“What--”

“You don’t even have to keep on cleaning or any of that,” he said quietly, “just be mine. You’ll be comfortable here. All you have to do is… be here… with me.”

“Steve,” you held onto his thick fingers, “maybe you don’t mean it that way but I’m not… not a prostitute.”

“It wouldn’t be that,” his throat constricted, “it would be convenient; practical.”

“I should go,” you shoved his hand off of you and stood, “you did a good job with the chili.”

The chair scraped behind you as you stepped out from between it and the table. Steve was fast and caught your shoulder before you could evade him.

“Go where? Do what exactly?” his voice was stern and stolid, “huh? No one in town’s gonna hire you, we both know that. And you can’t make it in the city.”

“That’s mean, Steve, I want to go,” you pouted, “let me go.”

“Why can’t you see I’m helping you?”

“You have helped me but what you’re… offering is insulting, don’t you understand?”

“It’s generous is what I’d say,” he grabbed your other arm and pulled you close as he snarled down at you, “I can give you everything you need and want, all you have to do is give me…” his eyes crawled down your body, “a little sweetness.”

“Steve--”

“You’re proud, I get it, you don’t want to admit you have no choice but what happens when Fletcher needs that room for storage or he rents it out to a higher bidder? Where do you go then? Huh, you keep handing out that resume and what has that degree got you but sorrys and no thank yous?”

“Get off--” you pushed on his chest as he squeezed your arms painfully.

“Let me tell you I will be the only yes you ever get,” he growled, “I made sure of it.”

“Wha-- I--”

“I’m not driving you back to town,” he released you, “so if you really wanna go, if your pride is worth all that, you can walk and see if you beat the wolves. Or you can stay and earn that extra bill I put in your pocket.”

“Steve, what the hell?”

“Your call,” his fingers stretched around the waist of his jeans as he flexed his chest, “reception’s shit so good luck getting a ride.”

“You can’t--”

“Let me make this easy for you. Walk and see if you make it home, stay and you’re already home.”

You searched his face. You’d never seen this side of him. You blinked and spun on your heel. Fuck him. You’d drive yourself and he could tell the police you stole his truck. You ran to the front door and snatched his keys from the hook. You bent to grab your boots but his hand on the back of your neck stopped you. 

He wrenched you back and tossed you against the wall. The keys tumbled to the floor and he kicked them away, “no cheating,” he said, “you wanna go then?”

Before you could answer the high whine of a coyote cut through the air and the glass slats of the front door dimmed. You faced him and your heart beat wildly.

“Why?”

“You going?” he asked again.

“Steve--”

“Well?”

“You can’t do this,” you pleaded, “keep your money then. Just take me home.”

“No,” he marched towards you and pinned you by your neck against the wall. His hand threatened to stifle your breath as he leaned in, “go or stay?”

You batted away tears with your lashes. You turned your head as far as you could whimpered as the sky continued to darken through the marbled glass, “Steve.”

“Go or stay?” he rasped as his breath tickled your cheek.

You trembled and touched his wrist. He squeezed just a little and you gasped, “and if I get lost? If I die out there?”

His lips curved and he chuckled lightly, “you willing to take that risk?”

You watched him, looking for any crack in his veneer, looking for an ounce of the man who’d been your godsend in that desolate town. He wasn’t there. It had all been an act, a trick. He had you in his snare like any good hunter.

“What choice do I have?” you whispered.

He pressed his forehead to yours and his large nose brushed against the tip of yours, “I’m not that bad,” his other hand crept along your stomach, “you’ll see that,” he played with the ribbed cotton, “you'll never find anyone better than me.”

🪓🪓🪓

Please reblog and leave some feedback if you enjoyed. Thank you 💕

[sideblogforcrimpy-plus]

Title: Shape of You

Words: 16,109m and it's a oneshot (idk how to chapters)

Rated: General, there’s no smut. Idk, teen and up (rlly not expecting under-teens to be reading CM fic tho)

You can find this on Ao3, by the way

Summary: Emily is house hunting while the BAU has an ongoing case. The house that she buys may or may not be haunted. Is haunted the right word? Probably not, but let's not dwell on the semantics. Also Emily is in lesbians with Penelope and tryna be cool about it.

Besties this one tuckered me out in the best of ways. Ignore typos, I'm making this post at after 6am after a full night of writing and editing. Thank.

Emily's house-hunting was made easier by the fact that their current case was close to home. At least, it was initially.

A man -going by the profile- was attacking young men in bars, and had been for some time. He seemed too advanced with the victims list they were given in the beginning. Too experienced, too precise. Seeing the number of likely linked cases go from single to double digits after running details of the attacks through the NCIC was horrifying, but not a surprise.

Then, after Garcia and Derek hunted a little more online they were able to find a small number of incidents at bars in what seemed the unsub's initial hunting grounds. These incidents felt an awful lot like the small spark preceding a wildfire.

And it was right there in their home state, under their noses.

You’d think that while dealing with the stress of a case like this, looking for a home as a prospective buyer would be a nice break.

You’d think.

Walking around the house, fingers trailing along benches, tables, and walls, Emily was once again unsure. She knew she wanted to own a house, to not have to deal with the pain of scheduling repairmen through landlords adverse to both repairs and timely replies on top of her own terrible schedule. To be able to have a cat and not worry if the next landlord would kick up a fuss, or whether or not she could find another place suitable for said hypothetical cat.

This house, like the others she had looked at, seemed to offer her what she wanted, but she was constantly unsure. What if she wound up despising it? What if after she bought it she felt less like a ship safely anchored and more a ship ran aground?

Every time she walked through a house with the thought of buying as a possibility, she was plagued with these thoughts. And every time she had called to make an offer after thinking maybe she could see herself living there, she'd been told someone else had done so already.

She was tired of it, and this apartment was aged in a comfortable way -it was far from the stark whites and beiges she grew up with.

It was like she could see little bits of the previous owner in it. The house was coming pre-furnished, with some of the prior owner's belongings actually still boxed up in the spare room. As she made another lap through the house, she pictured a kindly, doddering professor that chose comfort over fashion, and she liked it.

The carpet, and what hardwood flooring was exposed, was well treated but also well used; scuffed and worn from use over time, but carefully cleaned. Even with the wooden flooring, it looked polished somewhat recently.

There was a reading nook that seemed nice in theory, but she knew she wouldn't get much time to utilise it. The couch was one she could picture sinking into at the end of the day, the fabric old and soft with cushions that were plush and inviting.

The kitchen was the least used, by the look of it. The appliances were cheap but serviceable and looked mostly unused, whereas other features of the house looked carefully selected. The wooden countertop that would work wonderfully as one you could use as a cutting board and sand down -an expensive feature Rossi wanted to use immediately when she'd showed him the listing- hardly had a mark on it.

All this and the stash of takeaway menus slotted down the side of the cutlery draw made Emily smile; she wasn’t one for the kitchen, either.

She concluded that that old house felt homely in comparison to the one she was raised in. It felt lived in and loved, warm and welcoming.

As a result, Emily put in an offer before she’d even left the house; if there was no time to think about it, then there was no time for her doubts to belay her. Regret started digging its claws in her the moment she sat in her car, the windows of the apartment above her looking like they were frowning down at her with the blinds half closed as they were. She debated going back in, likely interrupting the real estate agent’s call to the owner, but a text came in about a new case, so she hesitantly pulled out of the park and got herself into work mode.

Buying a house as a spur of the moment thing couldn’t really be done, given all the forms needing processing, finance information going back and forth, and an agreed upon settlement date among other things.

But Emily thought this was pretty close to it.

The search into their unsub regarding the attacks at bars and clubs had slowed down; it appeared the heat on the unsub after interstate attacks were linked and the FBI being brought in had halted the killings. It meant they were back to predominantly doing consults individually while the team as a whole worked on piecing together what they could on what was now their ‘main’ case.

While the reprieve was certainly good for those who would have been victims, it meant there was no new evidence coming in. It also meant that Emily had less distractions when it came to her potential new home.

Undecided on whether it was too long or short of a wait to hear the news after going through the motions in the following months, Emily got a call while boarding the jet that settlement had gone through, and she could pick up the keys whenever she had the time to from the real estate office. Conveniently, the peppy receptionist advised, it was only five minutes by train from her wonderful new home.

The joy she’d been told about when hearing settlement has gone through felt an awful lot like the dreadful familiarity of anxiety and regret, she found.

Coming home to an apartment half unpacked wasn’t Emily’s ideal way of decompressing after a frustrating day’s work, but at least she could leave it a bit messy with no repercussions in the form of upcoming rental inspections.

Their ‘main case’ unsub had recently started back up again, but with previously unseen fervour; it seems holding back as long as they did was a struggle, and they were making up lost time in the form of brutality and frequency.

Adding to that the anger of precincts not willing to share with the FBI now that they were linking more attacks across cities and everybody was getting quite fed up.

Emily crumpled up the packaging of the biscuits she’d just finished off, and dragged her feet on the way to the kitchen. She opened the cupboard beneath the sink and threw the rubbish in, frowning when she heard it hit the bottom of the cupboard instead of the bin.

“What the hell?” The open cupboard revealed an empty, bin-sized gap, and she tapped her fingers on the counter as she tried to recall what happened. 

“Must have washed it.” She mumbled under her breath, picking up the rubbish and moving to check the laundry. She stopped, however, when she saw it beneath the bench on the side of the living room, certainly not where she’d normally leave it.

She hesitated, lifting a hand to rub at her collarbone while her eyes cast about the room. They settled on a sturdy torch with a long, heavy handle. She couldn’t remember how it came into her possession, but she was suddenly thankful for it. Wielding it more like a bat than a torch, she walked around the house in a self-conscious way. If an intruder had been in here, the last thing they’d likely do is move her bin, so it felt a little ridiculous. All the same, the tense rigidity of her shoulders eased away as she circled back to the kitchen.

Angrily, and a little embarrassed despite there not being an audience, she shoved the bin beneath the sink again and decided she’d had enough of today. Besides, Penelope had gifted her beautifully soft bedding for a housewarming gift and she was eager to sleep in them.

“So you moved it, forgot, and then felt like you had to snoop around your own house?” Penelope’s grin was a balm to Emily’s embarrassment, even though it was because Emily was telling her how stupid she’d acted.

“Yeah, I... I guess? I mean, how else could it have happened?” Emily had pilfered a spare office chair, which she was now spinning in half circles on while the other woman clacked away at her keyboard.

“Well, everyone is tuckered out by this case, dearest, so a little forgetfulness is understandable. Although the image of you holding a nightstick while walking around your house is what I’ll picture next time the sandman mistreats me with bad dreams.” At Emily’s exaggerated sigh, the colourfully dressed woman beamed, an equally bright laugh making Emily force back a smile.

“My protector and my nightlight, what more could I want in a woman?” At this, Emily bit her tongue and jutted her chin in the direction of the analyst’s screens.

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on those?”

“Shouldn’t you be at the precinct doing some profiling and investigating magic so you have an excuse to call me and give me things to research?” Emily conceded, nodding her head.

“Yeah, maybe.”

While she was yet to host a house-warming party, Emily eased the pressure of holding one by planning to have Penelope over while Derek was there to help her fix some issues.

More accurately, she’d complained about leaky taps making it hard for her to sleep until Derek offered to come over and fix them. He’d tried giving her tips on what to do at first, but when he started talking about needing ‘only’ a flat-headed screwdriver and a spanner, she raised her brows.

“Derek, I’m the daughter of an ambassador. I’m flattered you think I’m capable, but I’m really not.”

He’d laughed, waving a dismissive hand. “Alright, princess, I’ll come help you out this weekend.”

“My knight in shining armour,” she rolled her eyes, “what would I do without you?”

“Lose your mind over a leaky tap, is my guess.”

She flicked a hand in his direction, shaking her head as she did. He was insufferable sometimes. He couldn’t take offence at her sarcasm on account of the obvious smile she was sporting.

-

Before Derek was able to come over, Emily had started losing her mind over a number of other small things. Truthfully, her regret had given way to joy at the house; it really did feel like a home instead of a house.

But.

There were just little things that caused hesitation, and maybe a little fear.

Thursday night, Penelope had decided to come over and check out the house. She used the excuse of wanting to be the first to see it, before even Derek that coming weekend. But it was Emily’s unease; the mostly but not entirely true smile she gave when talking about the house, that had prompted the self-invite.

Emily was still getting used to the house, occasionally misremembering where she placed the washcloth for the dishes, going to throw something in the bin and almost dropping it on the floor when the bin was by the darn bench again instead, or even pushing open windows she hadn't recalled closing to begin with. Maybe she should have adjusted to the house already, but it’s not like she was actually able to spend a lot of time there given their work.

After a tour of the house, Penny had immediately claimed the reading nook; she was so excited by Emily having one she turned down the more comfortable couch for the novelty. Emily wouldn’t fight it, because it meant she could lay down across the length of the couch without putting Penelope out of a choice seating spot.

With her eyes closed and arms crossed on her chest, she spoke to Penelope about it, about the feeling of someone, or something, moving things while she wasn’t looking. Subtly messing with her stuff but not enough for it to be a full threat. 

Penny mentioned she might have a ghost on her hands. The two laughed, but the teasing 'don't offend the dearly departed, my dear' Penny said before she left the house that evening sat uncomfortably in her chest.

Those words began stewing in the back of her mind; Penelope's ghost comment. Just quietly, as Emily dealt with true horrors and demons in her line of work, and didn't believe in ghosts, did she?

Did she?

Fear she tried to bat away slowly gripped her as she became less sure of her convictions regarding those no longer of the living.

-

“See? I told you, changing a washer takes nothin’.” Derek was washing his hands, and when he turned off the tap, he pointedly listened out for a drip that was no longer there. “Except these and a little elbow grease, I guess,” he gestured to the two tools he brought.

Penelope chimed in, “and a new washer.”

“And a new washer, yes.” Emily handed him a cup of coffee, and he dried his hands on his pants before taking it gratefully.

“Anything else troubling you about the house? Might as well offer more of my services since I’m already here.”

“What isn’t troubling me?” The words were more for her; a thought spoken aloud more so than an actual response. Still, Derek raised a brow.

“Bought more of a fixer-upper than you bargained for, Prentiss?”

“No, not that. It’s nothing. Well, actually, I did want to ask you about an exhaust fan in the bathroom?”

He stared at her for a moment, and in that moment she wished he wasn’t so good at his job as a profiler. “Emily. Is there something more on your mind than the exhaust fan?”

She squirmed, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she debated telling him. He pulled the trick of staying quiet, patiently waiting for her to fill the growing silence.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?” She felt so much more exposed sharing this with Derek than she did Penelope, but her discomfort was eased when Penelope nodded encouragingly.

There was a smile in his eyes when she described walking around the house with the light/nightstick, and he gave it an approving glance when she showed him. But he was concerned she felt unsafe in her own home.

“Show me your carbon monoxide detector.”

“My what?”

He was appalled.

While she was ushering her two guests out her front door, Derek was repeating himself about her newly installed CO detector.

“And remember that it can take a few hours for it to go off depending on the buildup. I installed a couple just to be safe. If they go off, call me again. If they don’t go off…”

Penelope patted his cheek before turning to Emily.

“If they don’t go off, invite us back next weekend so our hunk of delicious and protective muscle can install security cameras instead.”

“Guys, really thank you. Although I can’t see how someone would be getting into my apartment for this. Maybe I’m just being really forgetful.” The words were weak, and the other two looked at her knowingly.

“We’re here to help. Or rather, he’s here to help,” Penelope looped her arm around Derek’s, leaning her head against him. “And I’m here for moral support and oogling.”

“Is oogling and house maintenance all I’m good for?”

“Who said I was oogling you, sweet thing?” The lascivious wink Penelope gave Emily would provide sufficient distraction for the brunette tonight.

“Wait, I’m doing this hard work and I’m not even being oogled?” Derek looked a little offended, and Emily shrugged before responding.

“Sucks to suck. Thanks for today guys, I mean it.” She shut the door to the two of them laughing, and she felt lighter than she had in weeks.

When the alarms didn’t go off later than night, or even in the following days, Emily didn’t know how to feel about it.

The bonus was that she didn’t have CO poisoning to worry about. The negative was that it meant she had some other, mysterious thing to worry about instead. One that didn’t have a clear solution.

She was tired of feeling afraid in her own house, though. Her fear grew to hold a sharper edge.

Now, when the soap dish moved to the other side of the bathroom sink, or the cutlery sorted itself into different compartments that she knew wasn't done by her own hand, she felt the same thrill of fear but it now featured a side of annoyance.

"This is my house now, you haunting creep. I'll put things where I want and they'll stay there, you get me?"

She felt foolish, after her angry chastising, when an empty silence was her sole response. She gripped the bench, steeling herself and reaffirming she was the only person in this house, dead or alive, and she'd damn well act like it.

She might also, she thought, consider buying elsewhere.

-

Turning off the shower, Emily wondered if Derek really would come over again to install an exhaust fan in her bathroom. She’d never thought about them before outside of finding them noisy. Now though, she frowned at the thick fog of steam in the bathroom as echoes of ‘mould build-up’ in Derek’s voice bounced around her head. She hadn’t wanted to open the window as it’d let in bugs.

“Maybe I’ll get him to put in a fly screen while he’s here.” She stepped in front of the counter, an annoyed huff following her words when she saw she’d forgotten to bring in her clothes. The heat of the water seemed to have eased her muscles out of the day’s aches, and she rolled her shoulders while walking out to her closet.

Pyjamas on, she walked into the kitchen to turn on the kettle for a tea before circling back to the ensuite, then suddenly clutched the towel she meant to hang up to her chest when she pushed open the door.

        GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, SQUATTER

She pulled the door shut with a slam, beginning to push a chair beneath the handle to hold it closed before she remembered it opened in the wrong direction for that.

-

Emily awoke after not nearly enough sleep, but was still excited for a day off. Not because she had plans of going out, but staying in. She’d said she needed to unpack and sort out the house still, and while that was true, she had no intentions of unpacking on her first day off.

After opening the fridge, she let out a groan. There were no left-overs she could have for breakfast, and she’d be mad about it if the takeout last night hadn’t been so good.

Well, she could still be a little mad about it.

Turning to pick up her keys from the end of the bunch, she stopped in her tracks when she saw the takeout container -rinsed, now- sitting atop the recycling that had built up. Bewildering her further, was the little sticky note prominently left on the top.

WHILE A LOT OF PLASTIC ISN’T RECYCLABLE, THIS ONE IS. I’LL THANK YOU IN ADVANCE FOR DISPOSING OF THINGS PROPERLY GOING FORWARD.

She let out a surprised, half scared laugh, not much more than a glorified huff of air. Then, she laughed a bit more forcefully, a wave of indignance rolling over the building fear she could feel welling up in her chest.

“I’m going crazy. That’s what this is. I have carbon monoxide poisoning and the detectors missed it. Get out of my house!” She yelled the last bit, making herself jump at the vehemence of it.

“Actually, I was here first. You’re the intruder.”

She let out a shriek, stepping back to press her back against the fridge as she looked wildly around the space before her, needing a solid surface at her back to assuage at least a little bit of fear.

“Show yourself!”

“Your anger at your inability to see what’s before you shouldn’t be directed at me.”

“This is my house! I bought it, I’m paying a mortgage.”

“You got me there.” There was a resigned sigh, and squinting, Emily thought she could see the outline of a man on the other side of the kitchen bench. The longer she looked, the more defined he became. His hands were clasped before him, and he was looking down at them with a frown. She couldn’t quite see the details of him, the intricacies that would make him identifiable, but she could see enough to ensure she was thoroughly scared.

So scared that the world got quite dark around the edges, and she fell to the floor in a graceless heap.

“Emily! Emily, it’s okay! It’s okay! We’ll check the carbon monoxide detectors, and we’ll sage the house! We could burn some candles, spread some good intent, and I will be there with you every step of the way!” Emily was seated on the arm of Penelope’s couch, elbow resting on her crossed legs so her arm was propped up and allowing her to anxiously bite her thumbnail in comfort.

“Garcia, I-I saw him. Not all of him, or clear features, but I saw a strange, transparent man in my kitchen. I can’t go to work like this! Oh, I can’t go back there.”

“My beautiful badass, you have to go back there at some point. Even if you move, you have to pack, and move the packed boxes. An option that I fully support, but…”

“There’s a ‘but’ here?”

“But, did he have bad intentions? Did he feel evil?”

Emily’s hand dropped enough for Penelope to see her mouth fall open a bit, confusion creasing the brunette’s brows.

“He called me an intruder!” Her indignance was back.

“Well, I mean, maybe he,” she whispered, leaning in like she was sharing a dark secret. ”Maybe he died there.”

“Great!” Emily threw up her hands, “so I’ve got a dead man’s apartment and he’s mad about it? What am I supposed to do with that?” Penelope moved to stand beside her, rubbing the woman’s shoulders before wrapping her up in a comforting hug.

-

Penelope had sworn to secrecy; she was absolutely forbidden from telling Derek they were walking around her house, waving incense and thinking good yet uninviting thoughts for her unplanned roommate.

“Penelope, this is just making me sneeze.” She walked into the main bedroom where Penelope had wandered, talking still as she joined the other woman in the ensuite. “I dropped ash on the carpet, and I- Penelope?”

“Hey, Em. Uh, did you happen to write a little note for me about incense burning? You could have told me if you were that uncomfortable with it. I mean, I appreciate the non-combative approach, but it’s not your style.” Despite the joke in Penelope’s words, the tone was forced and brittle. Emily stepped up beside her, careful to hold the incense away, and bent to see a note on the counter.

WHILE OFFICIALS WITH THE U.S. FIRE ADMINISTRATION DON’T HAVE STATISTICS ON HOW MANY FIRE DEATHS ARE ATTRIBUTED TO THE BURNING OF INCENSE, THEY’VE SAID BURNING INCENSE IS VERY SIMILAR TO BURNING CANDLES, A PRACTICE THAT CAUSES ABOUT 18,000 FIRES A YEAR IN THE UNITED STATES. 

Emily and Pen were now both scared, but the note wasn’t threatening, and was also exactly what Emily would expect from a doddering old professor

Penelope nodded, as if affirming her thoughts in her head before sharing them with Emily. “See? He’s just protecting his- Your! Yours and his? House? Plus, also, he’s sharing fun facts!”

“Fun facts?” Emily picked up the note, tone taking on shrill notes and disbelief shaping her face as she pointedly shook the note in her hands. She did it exaggeratedly on purpose, to hide the unwilling, fear-borne shaking already there. “Fun facts from the U.S. Fire Administration about house fires?”

Penelope’s unwillingness to make eye-contact did nothing to help Emily, but she appreciated the effort.

-

Emily did start looking for a new house, but that dissatisfaction from the first time she was looking seemed to be back tenfold. Still, she wasn’t stupid enough to fight a ghost for a house. She’d seen enough scary movies to see that it never panned out well.

Still, when she and Penelope were next alone, the conversation swayed back to her house. Penny was sat at her computer, and Emily was spinning in half circles again on her stolen chair.

“He hasn’t like, he’s not- you know?” Penelope flapped her hands helplessly, unwilling to word the question she wanted to ask.

“You mean he hasn’t gone full Amityville Horror on me?” Penelope cringed at the wording, but nodded. Emily heaved a sigh, shaking her head. “No. Or well, I mean, he has asked me to leave the house, but I haven’t been violently ill, and there’s no swarm of flies.”

“Okay, well, that’s a great start. Does he seem malevolent at all?”

Emily laced her fingers together, planting her feet firmly as she looked down at her hands on her lap. She frowned in thought, then tilted her head to look up at Penelope.

“Actually? He seemed sad. Annoyed, yes, but mostly sad. If I wasn’t so scared I think I would have felt bad for him.”

Penelope tapped her manicured nails on the desk’s edge, and Emily didn’t have a good feeling about her expression -she was planning something.

“Hear me out.” Penelope uncrossed her legs and scooted her chair over to be in front of Emily. Emily watched the movement, marvelling that Penny went through the effort of nailart on her toenails. It made sense for her though, and they matched the orange heels that sparkled as Penelope used her feet to pull her chair closer to Emily. “I’m not saying ‘let’s have a seance’ -we’re not qualified for that even if I were saying that. But I am saying, why don’t the two of us try and talk to the guy?”

Emily couldn’t keep the scepticism off of her face, and Penelope clasped Emily’s hands in her own and gave them a comforting squeeze.

Emily ran her tongue over her teeth, giving herself a moment to think before firmly shooting the idea down. As she took a breath to respond, Penelope cut in again.

“Have you tried talking with him yet? Maybe he doesn’t-” she looked around like they weren’t already alone in her office, leaning in as she spoke quieter. “What if he doesn’t know that he’s dead?” Emily was a little lost, because Penelope was close enough to kiss right now, and it made the second half of what she was saying almost unimportant by comparison. At least for a moment.

In the end, she and Penelope had planned to try and have a chat with not Casper, the maybe not unfriendly ghost.

God, she was going to die like the girls in every scary movie she’d ever seen, but she couldn’t say no to an earnest Penelope.

Penelope had taken Emily’s hand, and the two of them were seated on Emily’s couch. She smoothed her thumb over Penny’s skin before breaking the quiet.

“Penelope,” Emily was hesitant to continue, and sheepishly kept her gaze from the other woman.

Penelope squinted at her tone, jutting her chin out. “I know my track record with secret keeping is spotty,” she dutifully ignored Emily’s small smile, “but I really didn’t tell anyone about this. Not that it was easy because this is straight up crazy movie stuff, but also…” She pushed up her glasses, and Emily didn’t fail to take note of the slight colouring of Penelope’s cheeks and neck. “Also, this feels like an us thing.” She paused, as if she was going to say more, but just squeezed Emily’s hand a moment instead as she looked away.

Emily nodded, bumping her shoulder to Penny’s in thanks. “So, how do we do this?”

Penelope laughed, “I would know this why?”

Emily shoved her shoulder then, scoffing. “This was your idea!”

“And this is your ghost! You decide!”

“It’s rude to talk about someone like they’re not there.” The man’s voice cleared their smiles away, their grip on each other’s hands tightening. “Also, I don’t think I’m a ghost.”

Despite her reservations, Emily squinted, leaning forward to peer at the armchair across the coffee table. Once more, the more she looked for him the more visible he became. Like she was willing him into sight.

She wanted to look at Penelope, to check on her, but she was worried if she looked away, he’d disappear again. Sure she could see him, but it was more like a suggestion of him. “Uh, hi. I’m Emily.” 

The words felt stupid to say, but how else are you meant to introduce yourself to a possible ghost in your house? No horror movie she’d seen had the ghost meet the new inhabitants like a roommate interview, so she had nothing to guide her.

Not that a horror movie should be a guide, and if it were, she should have moved already.

He seemed startled, and while she was sure that if she reached over that her hand would go right through him, he looked about ready to cry.

“Hi, I-I’m Spencer.” His breaths seemed shaky, his tone hopeful. “You can actually- you can see me? Hear me? Properly this time?”

Try as she might to keep that healthy fear around -fear keeps you alert and alive- he looked so much like victims she talks to at work that she smiled comfortingly at him, nodding. “Yeah, yeah I can see you. Spencer, who are you?”

He laughed in disbelief, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. Emily felt Penelope lean forward, the woman beside her bringing their linked hands up to hug them to her chest.

Penelope spoke while it seemed Spencer was trying to get control of his emotions. “Sweetheart, how long have you been alone like this for?”

He shook his head in response, a few false starts with his words before he could properly respond. “I don’t know. I-I just,” he sighed, shrugging. He wiped at his eyes, lips pressed together while he thought. “I woke up, I think, some time ago. And- and I couldn’t-.” He leaned forward, leg bouncing as he rubbed his hands together.

It looked like thinking of how he got the way he did was stressing him out, so Emily tried to change the subject at least a little. She didn’t think she could handle a stressed-out maybe-ghost.

“However this happened, and however long ago it happened, it seems like we’re cohabitating now.”

He nodded, frowning a little. “Guess you can’t really give up your house for a- a spectre.”

Emily smiled, the kind of smile you give when something’s not funny, or even good, but you can’t do much else. “No, I don’t really think I can.”

“If it weren’t possibly detrimental to your very important job, your ability to sleep through alarms would be impressive.” Emily rolled her eyes and she leaned against the counter, the coffee machine working up the courage to even heat up, it seemed.

“Look, I didn’t get much sleep, alright? And it’s because of that very important job. Related topic, why did you get such a shit coffee machine?”

He scoffed. “I looked at the reviews online and watched videos about different machines, and this one seemed the best for my needs. There’s no waste from coffee pods, it doesn’t burn the coffee, and all the components are machine washable.”

Emily narrowed her eyes at him, not wanting to admit that this machine did indeed make some of the best coffee she’d had in a long time. “You know, it’s things like that, and your decor, that make me think you’re an old man.”

She thought she saw him press his lips together to hide a smile, shaking his head. “Researching expensive appliances to ensure they’ll give me what I want isn’t an old person thing. Surely.”

Emily held up a hand, frowning. “Hold on a minute; there’s not a computer here. Unless it’s packed away in the spare room?”

Spencer shook his head, a look of distaste seeming coming over him. Or maybe it was more of a feeling she picked up on. “No, I don’t have one.”

“You researched coffee machines on your phone?” While technically google became available on phones last year, she didn’t know anyone comfortably using it for research yet.

His distaste seemed to grow stronger, now mixed in with what Emily thought was actual disgust with hints of confusion. “What? No. I went to the library and used their computers. Phones can do that?”

Emily laughed, getting her mug from the coffee machine and holding it between her cold hands. “You really are an old guy, huh.”

He looked away, petulant. “No I’m not.”

“Cute. For an old guy.” She grinned at him on her way to her bedroom, getting ready for work with Spencer’s complaints about technology keeping her company.

She thinks she can believe him. He sounds young, younger than her even. But the house, his opinions on technology, and the brains on him? God, he could be Gideon’s age.

Hopefully, she’d be able to properly see him someday, rather than an almost tangible ghost.

-

Emily was sitting on the kitchen bench, the phone on loudspeaker beside her as she flipped through the fast-food menus she’d lifted from the cutlery drawer. They weren’t hers, but she didn’t think Spencer would mind her thumbing through them.

“Look, I’m not thrilled to be talking about work when I’m already home, but since it’s you? I’ll overlook it.” She smiled down at the phone when Penelope laughed.

“I just wanted to let you know that you might have to fly out tomorrow! I can come and see Spencer while you’re gone -if you’re gone- and look after the house.”

“Sometimes I think you’re just coming over to see Spencer and not me. Keep this up and I’ll get pouty.”

Penelope seemed to be considering her response, so Emily took a moment to read the Indian takeout menu in her hands. She jumped in surprise when she felt one of the menus beneath it in her hand get tugged out, and she must have made some sort of sound, because Penelope seemed concerned.

“Emily? Are you alright?”

“What? Uh, yeah. I think Spencer’s giving me dinner recommendations.”

“So that’s how it is, hm? You have the one and only, picturesque Penelope on the phone, but you’d rather some old brainiac take you out to dinner?”

Emily laughed, and she’s pretty sure she heard affronted noise from Spencer. She flapped the menus in the direction she thinks Spencer is, meanwhile cooing at Penelope.

“Aw, come on. It’s not like that, baby.” Even though they were joking around, she got a thrill at saying the words. “You’re the only one for me, you know that.”

“And don’t you forget it, dollface.” The two laughed, and that thrilled rush kept Emily feeling light after their call despite the fact that their unsub seemed to have crossed the state lines again, and she might be one of the people leaving to go after him. The whole unit wouldn’t be going, because there was still a relatively new crime scene close to home.

“Are you two dating?” The words seemed small, like something fragile held in careful hands.

She took a moment to get her head in the right space for responding; this seemed delicate all of a sudden. “No. But can you keep a secret?”

“Not only am I confident in my ability to keep secrets normally, but remember I’m currently not really uh, able to talk to many others?” 

Emily nodded. “Okay, point taken. We’re not dating, no. But I’d certainly like to. Why’s that?”

Silence answered her, but the more she peered into the space Spencer was, like before, the more visible he seemed to get. Not as much as he had previously, but there was a definite man-shape before her. Even with this limited sight, his shoulders seemed hunched. Burdened.

“Nothing. It’s just…”

“We’re both women?” She had a small smile. Once more, she seemed to feel his emotions rather than being able to parse them from an expression; hopeful yet troubled.

“Y-yeah. I mean, it’s not- well, it is common. The numbers are constantly changing, but the percentage of people identifying as things other than straight is growing based on more recent studies.”

“It is,” she tilted her head, friendly teasing in her tone, “you read that on the library computers?”

There was a sheepish laugh, and some of that troubled feeling seemed to bleed away. “Yeah, I did. I just. If you two started dating, I think I’d really like to see you happy like that.”

She felt the urge to hug him, and felt a pang of sadness upon realising that she may never be able to. Of course, if she’d thought about it earlier, she would have known that was the case from the beginning. When she started thinking of the fact that he might not feel any physical affection, friendly or more, she shook her head to clear it from her head.

“Thanks, I’d like that too. Changing to an equally important topic; takeout. Were you trying to tell me this place is better?”

Emily was laying on her back on the couch, and Spencer was sprawled over the armchair opposite her. It was late; she’d gotten back from work late, and had almost walked through Spencer in the kitchen. His corporealness seemed to depend on whether or not she was home for the most part, and how much they were interacting.

“Feel free to tell me to shut up, or mind my own business, but I have a question.” Emily had been debating on how much to ask Spencer. Was it invasive, or was it learning about a friend? Was Spencer friends with her because he wanted to be, or was it because he didn’t have much choice? Rather than continuing to overthink it, she figures she’d talk to the man himself.

“I’m not fond of how you’ve started, but yeah.”

She laughed. “Well, I wanted to ask about you. Like, when I can’t see you, are you still here? Or are you somewhere else?”

“I’m not too sure. Sometimes I’m here. But the times where I’m not,” he sighed. She could see that  he was fiddling with his clothes, but didn’t know if it was with buttons or a tie. “It’s like when you’re almost asleep. And when I do come back? It’s like when something startles you from that almost sleep.”

She turned to lay on her side, facing him. “Can you always pick up things, or are you more like Patrick Swayze in Ghost?”

“The end half of that sentence means nothing to me.”

They were grinning at each other; they’d yet to find an intersection in their movie interests.

He continued. “But going by the first half of what you said? No. Mostly when you’re here, and you mention me, or you talk to me. Then I can uh, interact with stuff around me. While you’re not here, I can’t always.”

“Partial Swayze confirmed. But while I’m not here, you normally aren’t either?”

“No, not normally.”

Next time Emily was away from home, anytime she talked about Spencer with Penny, or held thoughts of him in her mind, she took note of the time. When she was finally able to go back home, she asked him about it.

She was startled that he remembered the exact time, to the second even, but it checked out.

Emily started thinking about Spencer as often as she could to ensure that he was able to be in their house.

Emily brought up Spencer’s inability to manifest himself with Penelope not long after. It was troubling her, and she wanted to find some sort of resolution.

“Well maybe if we’re both thinking of him, it’ll help?”

Emily smiled, humming in agreement. “Yeah, I think so. And maybe uh, I was also thinking of doing something for me, that might benefit him.”

Penelope smiled knowingly. “Oh? What, prey tell, are you scheming?”

“Firstly, I don’t scheme.” She tried to look offended, but Penny knew better. “And secondly, I was thinking I might finally get a cat. I wanted to get one after I bough-” She was cut off but an excited squeal, and knew she would get the confirmation she was seeking.

“I was going to offer that I could visit while you’re on cases -which I’m still happy to do- but yes you should adopt a gorgeous little friend!”

“I bet that you’ll wanna go and visit now, just for my little cat. But I do want to ask for Spencer’s input as well.”

“Oh I hope he says yes.” Emily took in a deep breath, a little worried he’d say no.

After a brief debate, filled with facts and also warnings of illnesses cats can get or transmit, and the dangers they pose and that are posed to them, Emily and Spencer agreed on getting a cat. One that was already litter trained, and that would be strictly indoors.

Spencer was excited about the idea of being present in the home more with an extra set of eyes on him, and Emily was elated about finally getting a cat.

Emily came home feeling horrid. They’d followed up on what turned out to be false leads all day, and Derek going undercover at clubs and bars wasn’t ending up useful either. Really, they needed someone like Spencer on the team, since he seemed to fit the unsub’s type better.

Now hold on a fucking minute.

Emily paced outside the doorway, not wanting to be this ruffled when she went inside. She and Spencer hadn’t talked about how he got into his current state since they first sat down for a conversation. He grew anxious and unsure back then, frazzled.

If she were to ask him about it now, it’d be like conducting an interview, like a full cognitive interview, with a victim. Suddenly, she was very sure that Spencer was linked to their case.

But she’d also seen the photos of the victim’s what felt like a hundred times and definitely none of them were Spencer.

She leaned against the door and pressed her fingers to her temples.

“I may not be able to leave the house, but I can feel you thinking so hard about me right now.” Spencer’s voice from the other side of the door startled a laugh out of her. She headed in then, expression carefully guarded.

“You can, huh?”

“Yeah. And thank you, for thinking of me more often. I’m in the house more, and I-, I like it.”

Her expression softened, and she set her bag down on the kitchen counter. “I’m glad, I got Penelope onto it as well.”

“I imagine Penelope’s to credit for my being here nearly every hour on the hour, during standard waking hours?” 

Emily laughed, nodding. “Probably; I was wondering why she had an alarm going off so often.”

Emily felt a wave of gratefulness come from him, with a sure accompaniment of surprise, and she smiled at the shape of Spencer. “She’s really doing that just for me?”

“There’s not a lot our Penelope wouldn’t do for those she likes.”

The contentment coming from him soothed her anxieties about her sudden, but very late, realisation.

While she made her way to the fridge, sniffing out leftovers for an easy dinner, she called out to Spencer. “Maybe once I get time to get a cat, you won’t be so lonely in the house you’re present in.”

“Since I’m only really here when you two are thinking of me, it’s a little hard to feel lonely anymore.” Emily’s heart hurt. “But it would be nice to have something to do with my time other than pace around.”

Emily lifted her head in sudden surprise, and thoroughly hit it on the fridge since she’d been poking around in it for food. “What?” She rubbed at her head, cursing under her breath before continuing. “What do you mean? Can’t you, you know, interact with stuff sometimes? Since we’re thinking of you a lot and often?”

While she wasn’t looking at him, she knew what he’d be doing; that sheepish shrug. ‘I was inconvenienced but I didn’t want to tell you, so that you wouldn’t be inconvenienced either’.

She was going to bring him to the physical realm just so she could murder him for that.

“I feel like you’re thinking malicious things about me.”

“Don’t be silly.” She knew she didn’t sound convincing. It was too hard with her head hurting and her heart aching and she was so stupid.

“Spencer, have you just been wandering around the house, every hour on the hour, for days, without telling me that you couldn’t do anything?”

She turned then, to watch him tidy up the too often used takeout menus and placing them beside the too often empty fruit bowl.

She brought her hands together like she was going to pray -for the ability to slap a ghost going by her current thoughts- and pressed her fingers to her lips. After taking a deep, calming breath, she lowered her hands.

“Spencer, you’re an idiot. You’re a big brain, don’t get me wrong, but you’re an idiot.”

If she couldn’t feel that he was doing that shy little smile he does, he’d look insulted, she thought.

He tapped his fingers on the counter, the action noiseless. “I didn’t want to trouble you. It seemed trivial.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Permission to go through your boxes, Spence?”

“Permission granted?”

“With me, old man.” The nearly habitual ‘I’m not old’ followed her into the spare room, and she started pushing gently at the boxes in there until she found the heaviest one. “This one has your books in it, right?”

“Some of them, yeah. Why’s that?”

In answer, she opened the box and started pulling out the books in it, filling her arms with them before heading back out to the living room. “Is it that you can’t move anything, or that you can move little things, what’s the deal here? Because before I knew to think of you, you were shifting stuff around. And scaring the living daylights out of me, might I add.”

“You might add that, yeah.” 

She’d flick his ear if she could.

He was grinning, she knew, when he added, “I can sort of, sometimes, move little things. My guess is that it’s based on how focused you are on me when you’re out of the house.”

“This would be easier if you weren’t allergic to technology, I think.” She started leaving the books around the house, covers opened and held that way by whatever she could find; a paperweight on one, remote on another, and on the coffee table she left multiple books open; she opened each one, placing the next on the pulled back cover to keep them all open.

After placing them around the house, she smiled at Spencer. It wasn’t much, but it would leave him with something to do, and meant he’d have to focus less on lifting some of the heavier books. Come to think of it, most of them were heavy books.

He really was an old professor; he had to be.

“You think you’d be able to just turn the pages if you didn’t have to lift the books themselves?”

Again, that wave of surprised gratefulness hit her, and again she was sad at not being able to even grip his shoulder like Derek does her to give comfort.

His voice was the same quiet hers is when she thinks she might cry. “Yeah, I think I could.”

-

Penelope, while happy that her hourly Spencer Thoughts alarm was helping, was devastated that he wasn’t able to do much in the house alone. She commended Emily’s idea of leaving out the books for him, but said she’d be coming over to lend something of hers to Spencer.

Later that week, when they could plan it with work, Penelope brought herself, a dinner to share with Emily, and her gift for Spencer over.

Emily saw that Penelope moved to kiss each of Spencer’s cheeks in greeting. She stayed a hair away from the form of him; no one liked accidentally moving through Spencer, but he seemed to light up at it. Again, her heart ached.

Penelope put down the bag with their dinner in it, and Emily smiled when she realised what it was; it was from the restaurant Spencer had recommended while she and Penelope were on the phone and she was going through the menus. She’d been there a few times since and he was right, it was one of the best. She’d even since taken Penelope there, and Spencer seemed to like that they took his recommendations seriously.

Now that Penelope had only the gift in her arms, she turned her bright grin on Spencer. “While I know you’re not always able to manipulate your surroundings, I did wrap this. I can’t help who I am; I love wrapping presents. That said, I can unwrap it for you if you need.”

Emily was sure that Penelope could feel the glee coming from Spencer now, which only heightened after Penny set down the present - he was able to unwrap it.

He laughed, “a CD player?”

Penny nodded emphatically, taking it upon herself to plug it in as she talked. “Yes! So that you can put on music, or audiobooks, while we’re out! Emily told me about you silently moping about while no one’s here.” She waved an admonishing finger at him. “I get it; Gideon wasn’t overly active, and neither is Rossi when they’re left to their own devices, but you still need entertainment, stimulation, while you’re here alone.”

“I’m grateful but Penelope, are the two people you just mentioned older?”

She paused, surprised. “Yeah, hun, why’s that?”

Emily snorted at Spencer’s indignant ‘I’m not old!’ that followed. 

Penny looked mortified and cast an accusing glare at Emily. “Emily! You lied to me!”

Emily held up her hands, in surrender or as a placating gesture she wasn’t sure. “Hey now! What else am I meant to think? He doesn’t like technology, his home is styled like an old person, and his clothes consist of vests, sweaters, and neckties!”

Penelope smacked her shoulder, then turned to Spencer. “Sweetheart, how old are you?”

“27.”

“A baby!” 

Penelope’s aggrieved cry made Emily laugh. “What do you mean, ‘a baby’? He’s only four years younger than you.”

Penelope’s glare was back on her, and Emily shut up again.

Spencer was trying not to sound amused, “I’m not that young.”

Penny waved a hand at Emily before turning her attention back on Spencer. “No honey, you’re not. But you’re certainly younger than someone had lead me to believe.” She clapped her hands over her mouth then, and looked between the CD player and Spencer. “Oh no! Because somebody lied about your age -I went to Hotch and Rossi for music recommendations.”

Spencer laughed, and crouched down in front of the CD player. “I think that’s okay, I’m not too fond of more recent music. The neighbour plays the radio sometimes and I’m not that interested.”

Penny seemed to light back up and moved to sit on the ground beside Spencer. “Well, in that case!”

Emily left the two to talk about Penny’s multi-disc CD player (“And you don’t have to worry about not being able to handle discs all the time!”) as she moved the food onto plates in the kitchen, the house feeling more like a home in recent days than it had before. Than any house had before, she thought.

Emily would remember that night for the rest of her days; Penny had pulled the both of them into dancing to the older music. Spencer was hesitant, but after seeing the two women do silly moves together and laughing, he’d joined in.

Emily also noticed that that night, Spencer’s form was more substantial than it ever had been; he really did look youthful, even if still blurred.

After Emily had learned just how quickly Spencer could read -and subsequently getting mad at him again for not saying anything- she asked to rifle through his belongings again to get more out for him.

She took more time to look at them this time, and was surprised to see some in Russian. Rather than saying anything to him directly, she got Penelope’s help in looking for some Russian movies the two thought Spencer may like.

Sitting down in blankets on the couch, the two ended up watching some together, Emily’s contentedness doubled by being able to feel the same emotion coming from Spencer as well.

-

The day Emily brought home Sergio, Penelope was crushed she was caught at work assisting another department and couldn’t join in. Emily had promised many cat sitting nights to ease Penny’s expression down to just a pout. Still, while she was sad Penelope couldn’t be there as planned, she did want more of the focus on Spencer, so it helped her feel a little better about it.

She let out the slinky little thing in the laundry; the litter, food, and some water in there as it adjusted to the new environment. She’d made sure to spend some time with it before taking him on the trip home, so the friendly cat warmed up to her at least a bit before being brought here.

“Spence, come say hello.”

He was behind her in a moment, having come through the closed door silently.

“What if he hates me?” Having not heard Spencer come in, the cat startled. Ears flat and tail flicking, it inspected him for a long minute.

“Think you’re up to holding treats right now?”

“I hope so.”

She shook the little bag she’d been given to get the cat’s attention before tipping a couple into Spencer’s waiting hand. They both released a breath when the treats landed on his hand instead of falling through to the floor.

He knelt down, holding his palm out and flat for the cat to come up when it was ready.

“I forgot to tell you, but a lot of animals don’t seem to like me.”

“Get that negative attitude outta here; animals pick up on it. Sergio will love you and help to keep you present at home, and you can keep him company while I’m out on cases.”

Spencer laughed, his reaction reserved as he tried to look inviting to what was not much more than a kitten.

“Sergio?”

“Yeah, thought of it just now. But he looks like a Sergio, doesn’t he?”

Considering the cat for only another moment, Spencer nodded. “Yeah, he does.” After that, Sergio deigned Spencer good enough to accept treats from, the feeling of his whiskers ticking Spencer’s hand melting away any remaining fear he had.

-

Spencer seemed happy, and less transparent, since they welcomed Sergio into the house. Penelope was also there more often, and almost each time she came with some sort of treat for Sergio, as well.

Between one of Penelope’s visits and the next, Emily brought up with her the suspicion that Spencer was linked to their current case.

“But we haven’t seen any Spencers, let alone our Spencer, in any case notes.” Emily smiled at the ‘our Spencer’ Penelope said without hesitation, and nodded along.

“Still, I can’t shake this feeling. The house was on the market by the time we were on the case, meaning that- that something happened to Spencer earlier. Possibly before the unsub got enough practice in to be on our radar. There would have been time between when the listing was put up, and when whatever caused the house to,” she paused, pressing her thumb into the palm of her other hand as she stumbled around wording she didn’t want to use. “Not be in his hands anymore.”

Penny fretted, fingers drumming on her desk as she shook her head. “I don’t want to think of our sweet boy being tangled up in this, this horrible mess.”

“I know.” She got up from her chair to place her hands on Penelope’s shoulders, kneading slightly. It helped her with her nervous energy, and seemed to help ground Penny at the same time. “I hate the thought of it, but I can’t overlook it. What if it helps us with the current case?”

Penelope nodded, rubbing her hands together before placing them back down at her keyboard. “Okay, that’s a good point. Have you spoken to him about it?”

Guilt had found its way into Emily’s chest; she’d delayed asking only because she felt she knew Spencer wouldn’t react well. Like when they’d first been asking him.

“Not yet. But Pen?” The other woman turned in her seat to look up at Emily, and Emily prepared for her next words. “I don’t want to pry, and I don’t want you to pry, but-”

“You want me to find out who our sweet boy is?” Emily nodded and Penelope seemed to recoil from her keyboard. “It feels preemptively icky to poke into his life when he may not want us to.”

“I know,” when Penelope turned back to facing her computer, Emily leaned to place her chin on the top of Penelope’s head. “But I’d feel a lot worse if we didn’t look down this avenue and it cost more lives.”

Penelope let out an uncomfortable groan before motioning for Emily to leave.

“You’re right, and I normally love when you’re right, but I don’t like this. Don’t watch me snoop on our ghostly brain; it’ll make it worse. I’ll do it as soon as I can while working on the current case.”

Emily turned her head to press her cheek to Penelope’s hair, wishing she’d used her lips instead, then left the room.

-

Sitting in the back of the car on the way to a scene, Emily was regretting not saying yes to staying behind at the office. Hotch was driving, and also pretending like he wasn’t smiling, while Derek was grilling her unnecessarily.

“Come on now, I know you got some poor man hook, line, and sinker. You’re too eager to leave the office, and you’re actually early most days instead of late.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, Morgan, but those two seem conflicting. Wouldn’t I be in late if I had someone taking up my free time like that?”

He held up his pointer finger, nodding. “See now that’s what would normally happen. But everyone knows you’re not a morning person. You’re too awake by the time you reach the office these days, and that’s got to be somebody else’s doing.”

She frowned at him, but thought better than to wish he wasn’t quite so good at his job. She frowned more when she noticed Hotch nodding along, as if saying ‘good work, Derek, we hadn’t considered that possibility’.

“I’m not in a relationship with some poor man, maybe I just value my time more than before.”

Derek turned in his seat, and Emily wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face. “Okay, alright. Then you’ve got some sweet ladylove, don’t you?”

Again with Hotch’s agreeing nod. ‘Good deduction, Derek, we didn’t think of that as an option’.

Without meaning to, the image of Penelope relaxed and happy while sprawled out on her couch came to mind. On the heels of that was the memory of Penelope dancing along to Paul Anka in her living room with her and Spencer.

She was mortified to see Derek’s smug face when she came back to the present, and kicked the back of his chair.

In the voice Emily thought of as his ‘tired dad voice’, Hotch seemed to recite, “Now now, kids, if you fight in the car I’ll turn it around and we’ll all go right back home.”

Her only consolation was that it was Hotch hiding a small smile in the driver’s seat and not Rossi; she’d be pestered by two children at heart otherwise.

She kicked the back of Derek’s chair again for good measure, eliciting a laugh from him.

-

Emily noticed that Spencer is a tactile person. They spoke about it, and he said he wasn’t normally with touching other people, but for things he guessed he might be. He turns his nose up at Penelope’s computer when she brings it unless it’s showing the TV show they’re watching. He likes when they use his DVDs instead of Penelope pirating things.

“I thought you’d be against that given you work as a tech analyst for the FBI. Aren’t you catching wrongdoers with your computer skills?” He gestured to her hard drive of shows and movies that they’d been using.

“Spencer, my sweet baby genius, how do you think I got this job?” Spencer was horrified.

He loves Emily reading things out to him instead of audio books, but makes an exception for ones on CD that she hires from the library for him. She borrows from the library for when she’s away on cases so he has another way to read more when home alone, and they all go into Penny’s CD player.

After one of Penelope’s visits, she learns that Emily has been reading to Spencer, and immediately wants to be involved.

She reads the sci-fi Emily teases the two about while Emily’s away, and again, Spencer seems more there than he has before.

-

While she loved having the time she did with Spencer and Penelope, and was resistant to the thought of changing it, she felt selfish. She should want more people meeting and befriending Spencer for his sake, and it felt wrong keeping a secret so big from the team.

As a result, she made a decision she was scared she’d back out of. Before she could overthink it, she was thinking hard of Spencer and calling her home phone.

When it was answered, her victorious feeling squelched a little of the dissatisfaction she was forcefully trying to shove away.

“Spencer?”

“Emily! I didn’t know if I should answer or not, but since, well, I knew you were thinking of me, it seemed logical.”

“Look at that brain, hard at work.” She grinned, and heard his quiet scoff in response. “Look, I called you for a reason.”

“I put my big brain hard at work and guessed that too, did you know?”

“Alright, smart-arse,” she laughed, “I don’t know how you’ll respond to this question though.”

“Again, not fond of how you’ve started, but you can ask.” She thought she could hear the documentary she’d left in the dvd player for him in the background, and it eased her nerves further.

Emily checked the hallway outside the empty room she’d found, making sure no one would overhear her. “I think I want you to meet another of my team members.”

She cringed at the following pause, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand.

Spencer was just as hesitant as she thought he would be. “What if- I mean. You and Penelope know me already, but what if- I mean they might not believe you, or if they do, they might think I’m a threat.”

Emily’s brows rose, hearing her own fears repeated back to her didn’t help. She nodded, then realised Spencer couldn’t see her. “He may do, but I don’t think it’ll take long for him to come around. He has a soft-spot for Penelope, and she adores you. Actually; you may remember him. It’s Derek, he came to the house and fixed the leaky tap?”

Again, there was a pause, but Emily didn’t know the cause of it this time. “Spencer?”

“Uh, y-yeah, I, I think um, I remember him.”

She felt her lips curve into a grin, and she bit her tongue for a moment before caving into the urge. “Oh, you remember him, huh? I don’t actually remember you being present in the house, so does that mean you were just watching him?”

“We weren’t talking at that point.” His response was so quick she couldn’t hold back a laugh. She knew that if she were there, she would feel shy embarrassment oozing off of him.

“Maybe you remember Penelope’s wording from that day; she and I might have been oogling each other, were you oogling him?”

“If you want to tell him, I have minimal reservations about it. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll see you when you’re home.” Emily thought she was actually cackling when the call cut out.

-

“Alright, Prentiss. You’ve pulled me away from the action and I’m a little concerned.” His voice had surface-level teasing, but Derek really did look troubled. Her obvious nerves on display as they sat across from each other probably weren’t helping the situation.

“Derek, I’m going to share something that’s uh, well, it’s pretty out there.” She rubbed at her jaw, and he raised a brow then gestured for her to go on.

“Do you-” She sighed. She’d agonised over how to discuss this and wasn’t happy with anything she’d come up with. “Do you believe in the afterlife? In anything after someone dies?”

He looked thrown, but took a moment to think about his answer before replying. “How can we be expected to know what’s waiting for us? People who have been revived tell all sorts of stories, and the ones that leave permanently can’t tell what stories they may have. People in comas report different things as well, so I don’t think we can ever know. I like to believe there’s more for us on the good days, but on the bad days?” He shrugged, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his lap. “When I’m laid to rest, I want that to be final. So, I don’t know. What’s prompted such a question from you anyway? You’re deeply rooted in the tangible, aren’t you?”

“I used to think so.” He looked worried, but she didn’t want him to get too comfortable in thinking that that was the right emotion, so she switched tracks. “So, I’m not hiding a romantic relationship.”

He clapped his hands, sitting up straighter in his seat. “Think I got a little whiplash from that change. But okay, you are hiding a relationship then?” At her nod, he smoothed his hands over his lap. “Alright, go on.”

“I want to preface this with the fact that Penelope already knows and adores him.”

“I don’t like that you feel the need to preface this relationship with information, and I’m getting a bad feeling.” He leaned forward, putting a hand on her knee. “Emily, tell me what’s going on.”

When she carded her fingers through her hair, he gave her knee an encouraging squeeze. “There’s a man living at the apartment with me. Well, he’s there with me, but I’m not sure he’s living there.”

“What the fuck, Emily, do you mean?”

She rushed to reassure him, placing a hand over his on her knee. “It’s- he’s like a ghost? We’re not sure.”

Disbelief creased his eyebrows, and started looking a bit like anger. Emily bit her lip.

“Emily, I don’t know how you expect me to react to this. But you’re not joking, are you?”

She shook her head, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t know how I expected you to react, either. I got the wiggins when I first met him. I started looking for a new house, Derek.”

He stood up, throwing his hands in the air before bringing one of them to rest on the top of his head. As if he was physically pushing down this shocked anger. “You’re telling me you bought a house with a goddamn ghost in it, realised, then didn’t move out as soon as you could? Are the batteries still in those CO detectors I installed?”

She tried not to look offended. “Would it help if I got Penelope in here?”

The hand on his head closed into a fist. “So both you and Garcia are possibly in danger dealing with a haunting? That’s what it seems like you’re saying to me.”

“Haunting has negative connotations, I’m not sure it’s the right word to use. It’s- it’s more like he’s- we’re cohabitating.” She brought her hands together, lacing her fingers tightly as she struggled to give an apt description of the Spencer Situation.

“If I had any hair, it’d be grey right now.”

“Would you come and meet him? He’s just a kid, and he’s really sweet.”

“I thought you said it was a man?”

She waved a hand, sitting back in her seat now that Derek’s protective anger seemed to have subsided at least a little. “I mean, he is a grown man. But, you’ll understand when you see him. He’s almost thirty, but, you’ll get it.”

“I’m gonna die in a modern day haunting and you’re going to be the reason.”

“That’s the spirit.” She got up and patted his shoulder, hoping he knew she was thankful he didn’t call her batty right from the start.

They’d arranged it so Penny and Emily were already at the house, sitting with Spencer to try and help with his anxiety before Derek showed up. After a little wheedling from Emily, he was also bringing things to install an exhaust fan.

Spencer wasn’t leaving any steamed up mirror messages anymore, but Derek had scared her about mould build-up in a humid room now anyway.

When there was a knock at the door, all three of them seemed to jump in their seats despite the fact that they were expecting it; Derek was right on time.

Despite the fact that Penny, Emily, and now Derek were very conscious of Spencer, he seemed a little more faded than usual. His leg was back to bouncing, and Emily turned to face him fully.

“Spencer, whatever happens, he won’t try and hurt you.”

Penelope nodded, “And we wouldn’t let him even if he tried.”

He let out a stressed little laugh, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s not like he could if he wanted to. Can’t touch people, remember?” He had his hands pressed together between his thighs, stopping himself from gesturing as much as he usually did when nervous.

Not knowing how to respond, Emily inclined her head before getting up to open the door.

If someone had told her before buying the house that she’d be introducing Derek to her stressed out ghost friend and roommate not too long later, she’d have thought they had CO poisoning.

-

The meeting did not go well.

Derek’s fear after actually seeing a see-through Spencer translated into anger, and Spencer vanished.

While Penelope cried and looked around the house for him, Emily rounded on Derek.

“I invited you here to meet him! Not to brandish your fear at the unknown as anger like a weapon! He is a poor, helpless man that Penelope and I are trying to help!” She gestured at the empty spot on the couch Spencer was just in. She was fearful that with him disappearing like that he may not come back. The fear compounded her anger.

“Prentiss, are you serious? It’s great that the two of you are well-meaning. That you’re so willing to help those in need, and I love that about you two, I really mean it.” He pointed to the same, empty spot on the couch she did. “But you just showed me a real, actual ghost, that has been around you and Garcia for god knows how long, and expect me to be good with that?”

“Yes, actually, I did. How stupid of me. How stupid of me to think you would trust me.”

“You two could have been in danger. Danger we haven’t dealt with before. For god’s sake, Emily, he’s a fucking ghost!”

“You think I don’t know that already? Do you seriously think that I would leave myself in danger, for months, if I thought Spencer was dangerous?”

“We put ourselves in danger every day for this job. And you hide so much about who you are, what am I meant to think about you in a situation like this?”

Her breaths quickened. Fear, outrage, betrayal; they made her eyes sting and her voice quieting and stony. “You think that I would put Penelope in danger? You may think I’m reckless with my own life, but hers? Get out.”

“Emily, you have to understand, I-”

“I don’t have to anything! Get out!”

Both their chests were heaving, and both were holding back from saying more, or yelling more, but barely.

Penelope came back after her search of all the rooms, hands swiping at the tears in her eyes as she looked between the two.

“No more yelling, please.” Her voice cracked, and Emily thought she might scream instead.

Derek lifted his hand and put it back down in an aborted move towards Penelope. “Garcia…”

“Don’t. He’s gone now, and the way I see it? It’s your fault.” Derek recoiled like he’d been slapped.

“Penelope.” His voice was hurt now, and Penny clenched her hands.

“I mean it, Derek. He’s so sweet, and he’s so harmless, and he’s so fragile. And he’s never just, gone like this. And unless, and until, he comes back? I don’t think I can look at you without thinking some really hurtful things.”

Derek’s eyes took on a heartbroken sheen Emily hadn’t seen before. While she couldn’t imagine the pain of Penelope saying something like that to her, she knew it had to be tearing him apart.

All the same, she gestured to the door.

“You’re not welcome here.”

Penelope stayed over that night, and fell asleep crying in Emily’s arms.

-

The tension at work was off the charts, but all three remained tight lipped about the cause.

While they knew that sooner or later, Hotch would pull them into a room and demand an explanation, they could delay that happening as long as they didn’t let it impact the quality of the work they were doing.

There were well-meaning prods from Rossi to all three; Derek responded with anger, Penelope with sadness, and Emily with cold indifference.

Emily thought she might actually get fired due to being the perceived cause of a serious argument in the team where she was the newest member.

And it only made her anger at Derek worse.

Every night that she had to go home to her now achingly empty house, her resentment built up a little more.

Every day, she looked for little signs of Spencer. Like when she’d first moved in. She started putting recycling in the rubbish bin just to see if she’d get a passive-aggressive little note.

Penelope came over once to find her crying over the takeout menus with Sergio purring on her lap.

She was sick of it.

Sick of her empty home. Their empty home. Of seeing concerned glances from Hotch, JJ, and Rossi. Sick of seeing Derek’s guilty anger every day. And broken over seeing Penelope dealing with the loss of their friend.

She started reading his books aloud. She’d sit on the couch, reading them aloud and commenting on things like he was there. She’d talk in the house like he was listening. Point out funny positions she found Sergio in like Spencer was right there and able to see.

When that wasn’t working, since she felt she was already on the way to being seen as losing her mind, she figured she might meditate. It really wasn’t her thing.

She sat down on the floor of the living room, legs crossed and eyes closed, and thought about him.

She tried to think of nothing but him being in the house. From right when she first moved in up until the day he left. She was frowning, and could feel she was crying, and her legs were cramping, but she just dug her nails into her legs, gritted her teeth, and kept going.

“I don’t know why you’d sit on the floor and look so uncomfortable when there’s three chairs right nearby.”

Her eyes flew open, and she stood up so fast on cramped legs that she almost fell right back to the ground.

“Spencer! Jesus, where did you go?” She moved as if to hug him, pulling back at the last minute and wrapping her arms around herself instead.

He stood before her, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, with that silly little smile and overwhelming feelings coming off him in waves.

He shrugged, looking at his feet as his hair fell into his eyes. Hazel eyes, she realised. The image of him was so clear now it was like he was actually, physically there. No longer a suggestion, but a full person right there.

“I can see you. I can really see you.”

“Took you long enough.” She laughed, a sob escaping at the same time as she brought her hands up to her face, wiping at her tears.

“I have to tell Penelope, she’s been distraught.”

“Just Penelope?” He grinned, tilting his head to look closer at her.

“Yeah, just Penelope. I liked having the space all to myself, actually.”

Spencer glanced around the room; his belongings strewn about like she was going to summon him with them. “Yeah, looks that way.”

“I’m afraid if I stop looking at you, you’ll disappear again.”

“I hope not.”

“How did you come back?”

He cast his gaze around again, and Emily felt a little shyness from him. “I’m not really sure. It’s like, I was back in that almost-dream state. It was dark, and I feel like my ears were ringing? Beeping? But I think I could hear you. Did you read to me in Russian?”

“I tried.”

“Your Russian is getting better.”

She let out another sobbed laugh, stepping closer to him. She couldn’t stop staring; he seemed actually tangible and she couldn’t get over it.

He lifted a hand, almost bringing it to her face like he was going to wipe away tears, but closed his fist and let it hang between them instead. “The more you spoke to me, the more it felt like I was returning. I-I don’t know how to explain it. You were like a candle in a dark room, burning brighter every time you spoke to me. And then just before, it was like being, being suddenly yanked into, well, being.”

Without thinking the action through, Emily lifted her hand to hold it near his cheek, like when Penelope kissed his cheeks in greeting. Her breath caught when he felt solid. Not warm or cold, which was odd, but there.

Shock widened both their eyes, and they quickly pulled each other into a tight hug. Hands fisted in clothing like it was the only thing holding Spencer in place, and Emily was torn between elation that she could actually hold him and fear that if she stopped he’d be gone.

“I really, really need to call Penelope.” The words were muffled in his shoulder, but he nodded.

“I’d really like that.”

“You’re so tall. Have you always been this tall?”

“No. When I was born I was just as tall as a baby.”

She laughed, hitting his shoulder through blurred vision. “You idiot.”

“You love me.”

“I do.” She pulled back and took his hand in hers, her grip uncomfortably tight but he wasn’t fighting it. He revelled in the thought of seeing the impression of her fingers when she did let go; he was tangible.

She found it difficult to fish through her bag, get her phone, and call Penelope while trying to keep her eyes on him. But if she looked away and he disappeared, especially before Penelope got here? She really would break.

He laughed as he watched her, helping a little after she hit his shoulder again.

“Why are you smiling more each time I hit you?” She was grinning, and he shrugged.

“It’s nice that I can actually feel it.”

“Pft, masochist.” His response was cut off by Penelope answering her phone.

“Penelope, he’s back. Get over here immediately.”

“Oh god, I’m coming.”

They sat on the couch while they waited, and it felt surreal for Spencer to be correcting her on Russian grammar while they waited the 15 minutes it took for Penelope to get there.

She had a key, and didn’t hesitate to let herself in.

The first time Emily took her eyes off of Spencer, it was to see the relief and joy in Penelope’s eyes and she squeezed Spencer in a crushing hug.

They were all here, and whole, and Emily thought that finally, she might be able to forgive Derek only a little bit.

-

Emily and Penelope realise that this is the first time they’ve seen Spencer sleeping. Neither of them feel like they’re even capable of sleeping, which will really wreck them for work the next day.

“Hey Em, I know it’s late, but I was able to-” Penelope looks at Spencer, her whisper not even causing him to stir. “I was able to look into him.”

Emily lifted her head. The three were crammed in on Emily’s bed, but Emily and Penelope had wiggled up a little after Spencer fell asleep so they could see each other and talk.

Emily felt her body go rigid, not knowing what to expect. “What did you find?”

“Him. I found him.”

Emily brought her hand up to cover her mouth, making sure she didn’t wake Spencer with any startled noises. She needed to know what Penelope did immediately, but at the same time, was scared of what she might learn.

Penelope’s fingers were moving through Spencer’s hair. “He’s alive.”

Emily closed her eyes, tears of relief falling as she let out a shaky breath. “Thank god. Where?”

“He’s in a coma, in hospital. Not even a twenty minute drive from work.”

“Twenty minute like how Derek drives, or like how Rossi drives?” Hurt flashes over Penelope’s expression just as Emily realises what she’s said.

“We can maybe start to forgive him, now.”

Emily nods, eyes dropping to the peacefully sleeping Spencer between them. “I was thinking that, but it won’t be easy. For me, at least.”

“I get it.” Penelope nods, wetting her lips before continuing. “But that reaction, however bad, came from a good place. He was worried. He was scared for us.”

Emily clenched her jaw. “I know. But the lack of trust? The thought that, not only would I put myself in that much danger, but that-” She felt the angry crease in her brows, and her fingers tightened into a fist at her chest. “That he thought I would put you in danger having you here so often with Spencer? Pen, I wanted to hurt him just for thinking I might do that, let alone for how Spencer-” She cut herself off, closing her eyes to take a deep breath.

“His name is Spencer Reid, you know. It suits him, I think.”

Penelope graciously ignored Emily’s sniffling, and how she wiped at her eyes again. “Yeah, it suits him.”

“We could go and see him tomorrow?”

“I’d like that.”

Penelope looked a little uncomfortable then, and Emily held her gaze until the blonde continued.

“We should of course go there as his friends, but… I think you need to go there in an official capacity, too.”

“Oh.” Penelope nodded at Emily’s quiet, hurt ‘oh’.

“Hotch, you’re not serious.”

The stern glare Emily got in reply caused a twitch in her brow she couldn’t control. Hotch pointed at it and she could have hissed.

“That. That’s why. You’re all closed up about what happened between the three of you. I feel like pulling you into my office is as good as pulling the pin on a grenade, but maybe if you two are forced to actually work like a team, like you’re meant to be, maybe it’ll grease the wheels of conversation.”

“Did you record Rossi while he said that last part, or are you just role-playing as him?” It usually would have come off as a harmless joke, and maybe even earned a smile from him, but this time, Hotch glared at her.

She straightened her shoulders, not dropping his gaze as she conceded.

“I’ll let Morgan know that we’re going to the hospital together.” Hotch’s eyes changed from an angry glare to scrutiny that left Emily feeling exposed. She inclined her head and turned toward the bullpen to avoid it; he was too perceptive, though he’d never guess what actually occurred between she, Derek, and Penelope.

Her mood soured further when, at Derek’s desk, she saw Rossi probably giving Derek a similar stern talk as the one she just got from Hotch. Her suspicions were confirmed when the two of them looked up to see her, and Rossi looked caught as a deer.

The ride to the hospital was filled with the tense silence that had been building up for days. Emily knew now that with Spencer back, she could and should work on forgiving Derek. She knew Penelope would before she did, but she just didn’t know how to start.

She was driving, and when they pulled over, she locked all the doors to indicate she wanted Derek to stay put.

He could have unlocked his own door, but he took the action for what it was. A firm ‘please wait’.

“I don’t forgive you for what you did. It hurt. It hurt more than you bargained for, and I think you lost big.” She turned to see he was already looking at her. She could feel the gaze she was giving was glassy with unshed tears, but she didn’t let it get in the way of getting out what she needed to before going in there.

Before seeing Spencer in the flesh.

“Spencer is real. He is a real person, and Penelope found him.”

Shock blanked out Derek’s careful patience, and he opened his mouth to respond. Emily continued before he could.

“Shut up. He and I have been living together for months. Struggling to tether him here, for months. And you fucked up that effort in one fell swoop.”

Chastised wasn’t a look that was natural for Derek, it seemed. But right now, she liked it on him.

“Luckily for all of us, he was able to come back last night. Before that, Penny had been looking for him. The physical version. Unfortunately,” she had to stop. The thought of Spencer as a victim of their current unsub causing a heave in her chest. “He is very likely one of the first victims of our unsub. He’s been in a coma for a long time, so he may not-”

She covered her face with her hands, sobs shaking her body while she tried to be silent. When she felt Derek’s hand on her shoulder, she pulled away.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

When she looked at him, he looked devastated all over again, and she was just, unmoored.

“What if he hadn’t been able to come back to me, and- and he doesn’t wake up, Derek? Oh god-” This time, when he pulled her into his arms, she let him.

His words were muffled by her hair, his grip tight and grounding. “I’m so, so sorry, Emily. I was so scared for you, and I acted terribly.” He started rubbing her back as she fought to compose herself. “Now I can’t go back and change the past, as much as I wish I could. But Emily I swear, I will do everything I can for you and that boy. We’re going to catch this unsub, and I’ll do your paperwork when I can if it means you get to come here and see him more. I’m so sorry.”

They stayed like that until Emily was able to compose herself, and she sat holding Derek’s hand for another minute after that.

“You ready to go see him?”

She took another slow breath as she looked up to Derek, helpless. “I have to be.”

Derek took the role of asking the nurse in the room about his injuries when admitted and ongoing care. Emily held her professional composure up until the nurse wasn’t facing her anymore then bit her knuckle hard to control herself.

Yet another deep breath, and she went from frozen with Spencer just in view to sitting at his bedside holding his hand with no memory of the movement.

“I thought I’d lost you, handsome. But look, you’re right here.” She bit her lip, looking him over and comparing what she was seeing with the version she saw in her house last night. In their house.

“You were so close this whole time. Aren’t you meant to be smart? You should have told me.” She smoothed his hair, laughing when it sprung back to what might be an unmanageable mess as soon as she moved her hand away. “I thought you were dishevelled because you were a ghost, but that’s your default, huh?”

She felt Derek’s arm on her shoulder, and he lifted his phone up in his free hand. “Hotch asked us to come back as soon as we can. Linking Spencer gave us a new location, from when the unsub was more of a beginner.”

“From when he was more likely to make mistakes.” She said what Derek’s words implied, and he nodded. 

An alarming amount of hope started to fill her chest and she tried to contain it. “Okay. Alright, we’ll go. And Derek?” Her gaze was intense, and he held it. “Thank you.”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze then left the room before her, allowing her another moment alone with Spencer.

She stood up, steeling herself to get back to work as she looked down at him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay? And we’re gonna get him. I don’t want to promise it, but, I’ll do my best.”

She leaned in to kiss Spencer’s head, and if she’d still been holding his hand, she would have felt a twitch in his fingers.

When Spencer’s attack had first been looked into, it was a rush job. He’d come from a bar smelling of alcohol, and it was wrongfully assumed he’d been involved in some sort of brawl based on eye-witness accounts.

One witness had apparently seen so much that police were confident it was some stupid fight that had gotten out of hand, and ended with an unfortunate injury but no death.

The CCTV footage that Penelope got her hands on, however, showed a new side to that too-neat story.

Spencer had come out of the bar, looking bewildered and struggling. It matched prior cases where victims were plied with drinks stronger than usually served, who were then ‘shown out’ by bar staff where after they unfortunately were murdered.

In the footage, a blurry Spencer Reid stumbled out under the guiding hand of a staff member. While they were talking with him, another person wearing the same uniform came out, and seemed to relieve the previous person.

“Garcia, who is that?” Hotch’s eyes hadn’t left the screen; this was entirely new evidence that he and Penelope were undoubtedly going to watch many more times.

“No answer for you yet, sir, but I’m working on it. Believe me I am going to get him.” Her voice came over the loudspeaker, the audio quality not impacting her tone. The vehemence in her voice surprised him, but not enough to distract from the task at hand.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, though.

Horrified, Emily watched as this newer person forcefully led an unwilling, but incoherent, Spencer down the alley nearby. While the view was obscured from there, Penelope let out a pained little noise that matched the one Emily did.

Derek squeezed her hand, and Hotch’s analysing gaze didn’t miss that.

When Spencer had stumbled out of the alleyway not long after, the unsub behind him, there were a couple people around. It was clear despite the muted footage there was yelling, but Spencer stumbled away from an unsympathetic audience with the person dressed as staff stopped and spoke with the bystanders.

-

Emily worked late into the night, and considering the fact that she and Penelope had seen Spencer sleep for the first time last night, she figured that was why she didn’t find him in the house.

It set her on edge, but at least she knew from recent experience that if he really disappeared again, she’d be able to bring him back.

The next day, Emily found that Penelope had been in the office before sunrise, and had searched CCTV footage from all around the bar to find and follow Spencer’s attacker.

They didn’t have this opportunity with the later cases, because the unsub grew more criminally sophisticated after Spencer’s attack.

But Emily knew Penelope had him by the balls now, and her grip was unforgiving.

After such an arduous, truly horrific time of chasing him, they finally got their hands on one Paul Sunderland rather quickly after looking into Spencer’s attack.

Derek had a hand in keeping Emily from the takedown, and while Hotch didn’t understand why, he trusted Derek’s advice and had Emily back in the office with Penelope; seething.

Later, when Paul was in custody and being processed, Penelope received a call from the hospital. Emily had leaned in, pressing her ear to the side of Penelope’s headset to hear the muffled conversation.

“-released at 2:30pm this afternoon.” She bit her tongue to dam the outburst of anger; Spencer had been released from the hospital hours ago and they’d only just been called about it. How was he even moving? His muscles must have atrophied something chronic.

Penelope and Emily called Hotch together, citing a personal emergency with a close friend requiring their immediate leave, should he be able to grant it.

While they could sense he was sore at missing so much information recently, he let them go. In Emily’s car, with her driving scarier than Penelope’s could be, they rushed to Spencer and Emily’s house.

Penelope was on a rant the whole way, with Emily emphatically cutting in with agreements and outrage.

Emily wasn’t kind in her break when parking the car, but neither of them stopped to think about it as they made their way up the stairs. 

Her keys were already in hand when they two reached the apartment level, but Emily suddenly halted at the top, and caused a puffing Penelope to run into her back.

“Why-” She took a break, hand on Emily’s back, steadying her. “Why are we stopping?”

A pale, sweating Spencer was sitting on the floor, back to their apartment door, with crutches on the ground beside him. The two women rushed over to him, pulling him into their arms where he held them back just as tight.

“Spencer, what- what are you doing here? How’d you get here?” Emily pulled back to look him over, concern clear.

Penelope cut in before he could respond, running her hands over his arms. “Why are you on the floor outside, sweetheart?”

“It’s my house.” He was breathless, but gleeful. “Sorta sat on the stairs and worked my way up. What kind of building doesn’t have an escalator?” He took another breath, head falling back onto the door. “Crutches didn’t help. Locks have been changed.”

The two girls helped him in and onto the couch, fawning over him. He might not like this kind of attention usually, but soaked it up while it felt good and was available.

The night saw them wrapped in blankets on the bed, Emily conceding to watching old Doctor Who episodes while they drank Spencer’s tea.

Emily felt whole again. Restored.

Maybe she and Penelope weren’t in a relationship yet, and they’d have to go back to work the following day to a demanding and unwelcome amount of paperwork to finally close off and finally ditch Spencer’s attacker’s case, and Spencer had guaranteed grueling physical therapy to attend, but for now…

Just for now, Emily basked in the feeling of belonging, relief, and home.

[intangibly-here]

i miss you (more than anything)

zhongli x gn!reader

- scenario; 2.4k words - modern!au - fluff - jealousy

————————————————————

zhongli isn’t one for jealousy— usually.

title from mitski - francis forever.

requested by anon.

————————————————————

“an excellent choice, sir.”

again with the nicknames... 

slender fingers pick up a considerably stylized box, the smooth white a stark contrast to dark, glove-adorned palms. zhongli turns the box over in his hands, inspecting the various fine print explanations splayed along the edges of the plastic. now this is...

BANG!

clink. 

zhongli barely stifles a flinch at the sound of the door slamming, hinges squeaking and metal lock clicking into place with a whirlwind of motion. amber eyes flick up to the doorway, then back down to the polished counter.

five minutes late.

he sets the ice cube he’s handling into a wine glass after a brief pause, beginning to fashion up a flute of apple cider vinegar. the pattering of lively footsteps against tiled flooring rapidly grows nearer, clattering to a halt directly across the bar from where he stands. 

“hey there, mister zhongli! looking just about as boring as ever!”

hu tao plops into the cushioned chair, swiveling back and forth on the seat and leaning forward to watch him pour the concoction.

(it’s designated for customers of course— though that’s only usually. she happens to claim, to his exasperation, that she has “owner privileges”; whatever that could possibly mean when the place itself is meant to serve the needs of customers: that would include the spacing and chairs they may potentially desire when they enter the premises. unfortunately, he’s given up on understanding on her whims.)

from his position across the counter, zhongli absentmindedly spies the edge of a bright-red butterfly wing from underneath her outfit’s loose, flowing sleeves, the simple pendant string looped twice around her wrist. 

swallowtail. 

it’s the name (”like the butterfly, zhongli! the butterfly!”) of the establishment he’s currently employed at and is “run” by the granddaughter of a distant relative (though the bar is legally owned by said relative’s family). due to his— well, rather particular (per say) spending habits and a lack of mindfulness regarding the matter of what they liked to call savings (why would there be a need for these “savings”? he’d like to protest he’s traversed life well enough without them), he’d been pushed into putting the multitude of experience from past jobs into this one. 

and well, here he is now. 

chop. chop. 

two evenly-sliced apple slices tip over from against the blade of the knife and onto the wooden cutting board. fetching a sprig of mint from the small potted plant just below the rack of knives (growing lights and shelving did wonders in the spontaneous lighting of the nightclub), zhongli finished decorating the non-alcoholic drink of choice for the pseudo-proprietress. who knew what havoc she’d cheerfully throw herself into, archons forbid, if it were liquor. she’s already enough of a handful as it is. 

he sighs in resignation and slides the beverage over. the ice tinkles in the glass confines. he does have a favor to ask today after all. hu tao gives the drink a sniff, then puffs her cheeks in mock anger. 

“no alcohol? booooo, you’re such a rock.”

she takes a generous sip anyway. 

“so, what did you call me here for? not very zhongli-like for you to ask something of lil’ ol’ me. archons, have you been replaced?” 

she squints at him judgingly, then raises an eyebrow when he hesitates to answer.

“doesn’t look that way, old man.”

zhongli can feel the beginnings of a headache forming between his brows. he waves his hand dismissingly as if flicking away her babbling nonsense. 

“i have a favor to ask of you.”

“oh-ho?”

hu tao smirks playfully and pushes the half-finished drink aside, craning her neck forward. 

“what can i do for our esteemed mister zhongli, hm? hehe.”

zhongli clenches his fist under the edge of the woodwork in an effort to calm his raging annoyance. 

(it doesn’t help.)

he should just ask, shouldn’t he..?

“..i’ve been pondering this for a number of days now, but nothing quite appropriate for the occasion has happened to come to mind... do you happen to have any gift ideas for...”

he looks to the side to avoid eye contact and trails off, but hu tao immediately gets the memo. 

“ohhh..” her smile only grows wider, “this is for your daaaate—”

zhongli’s face flushes the slightest tinge of rosy pink and he hisses a sharp “shush!” through gritted teeth. and here he had thought she couldn’t get on his nerves beyond how she’d already acted thus far... 

the cheshire grin on her face still continues to climb. 

“well, you’ve definitely asked the right person! how about...”

some new polaroid film? is what she had proposed.

“it’s not some fancy-schmancy anniversary gift, no? just a date! a date! don’t worry yourself so much over it— no, don’t look at me like that. if you called me over to ask about it, you’re deeeefinitely losing hair over this— okay, okay, i got it! don’t kick me out! old man... sheesh. why don’t you get some more polaroid film and wrap it up all nice? useful and an excuse to take more pictures together! i know, i know, i’m a genius— mmph!”

he can still hear her voice bouncing around in his head (”can’t believe you’re getting rid of your boss, mister zhongli! didn’t take you for the rebellious type—”). zhongli brings his hand up to his temple and breathes out another sigh. it’s not like her idea was a terrible one; if anything, it were a wonderfully exquisite proposal— not that he would tell her. 

“i’d like to purchase this, if you would.”

he hands the box over to the shopkeep, who scans the package and rings up the bill. indiscreetly, he feels up the pocket of his jacket. thank the archons he remembered his wallet today. it would certainly be embarrassing to put this particular item on your tab. 

“sure thing, mister zhongli. i’m assuming this is a gift,” they eye him knowingly, “so would you like it wrapped up?” 

deja vu, his brain mutters, this is very much deja vu. he shuts it up promptly. 

“not this time, but you have my sincerest thanks for the offer. i’d like to wrap it myself.” he can feel his (generally..) expressionless face flaring up the faintest hint of pink and berates his mind once more. only when it comes to you...

acquiring the purchased item, zhongli dips his head in acknowledgement as he heads out. the plants hanging from baskets strung along the ceiling sway their leaves to and fro, nearly catching a wayward lock of his hair. he smooths the stray strand back.

“thank you once again, aether. let lumine know they can drop by for some tea again whenever they’d like for me, please.”

the bell hanging over the doorway tinkles when he pushes it open, and the bustle of the busy harbor seeps into the tranquility of the shop. aether nods and waves a hand at him in return, resting an arm on the cash register. 

“come again.”

-

while he’d imagined many ways your planned outing could play out, this was certainly not one of them. 

he’s approaching the meeting spot you two had decided on (right in front of the flowering quince tree near the park; its blooms resemble those of simpler, smaller silk flowers, and it happens to be quite the scenic location to wait) when he spies not only your stature, but another figure residing right besides you. 

who...?

as he steps closer, he can hear your laughter, the kind that he knows bubbles out of your chest and escapes your lips unconsciously. your amusement isn’t lost on your companion apparently, because they smirk teasingly, letting out a full-blown laugh of their own. 

“oh, zhongli, over here!”

your voice snaps him out of his meandering thoughts, and he stops fiddling with his earring (when did he start doing that?), continuing forward from where he’d paused in his observations of this newcomer. something starts to bloom in his chest, small and bittersweet. he’s not sure what to make of it. 

following your beckoning, zhongli finally makes his way to your side, mentally taking note of your.. friend? he doesn’t remember you mentioning anyone like this before though. surely he would remember your friends, no? 

his earring sways in the wind, white tassel fluttering cheerfully. 

“zhongli, this is my friend kaeya. i met him when i made that trip to mondstadt awhile back, remember that? oh, and kaeya, this is my boyfriend zhongli.”

(the little dragon curled up in his heart preens at your introduction of him, small and sweet.) 

ice blue meets molten gold when zhongli’s eyes dart up to make eye contact with this stranger. they squint at him, assessing, then dip into the makings of a playful twinkle. a hand reaches out for a handshake, which he returns in equal measure. interesting...

“he got a little lost touring liyue and i happened to see him here in the park. small world, huh? i know it was our day love, but do you mind if we take him around for today?”

zhongli smiles appeasingly, gentle and assuring as always. he can recognize the slightly nervous look on your face, one that’s a stark contrast to how energetic you’d looked just a few minutes ago. if kaeya’s company makes you happy and you’d like to take him around, then who is he to refuse your request? you two will have more time to spend with just the two of you later, he reasons with himself. accompanying your friend, and in turn his acquaintance, is nothing big.

(and no, it’s certainly not you calling him love that makes him cave.)

“of course we can.”

tugging at the string of his eyepatch, kaeya swiftly ties his hair back and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “so, where to first?”

zhongli takes your hand in his, squeezing softly. you squeeze back.

getting along together should come just fine.

-

he takes it back. 

he takes it all back. 

he’d accepted it at first because, well, this was your friend. he shouldn’t be controlling who you interact with nor who befriended you - that’s not up to him. it shouldn’t ever be. however—  with every passing moment that kaeya inched closer to you, taking up the entirety of your attention and bringing that bright, bright grin to your face—

(this was supposed to be your date. just the two of you. he hasn’t seen you in a month; surely he can feel a bit selfish, right?)

the three of you turn the corner to an intricately-themed restaurant and pause, where even zhongli looks appreciatively at the beautifully grown bamboo stalks lining the edges of its front walls. 

“wanmin restaurant,” kaeya reads, craning his neck up to gaze at the signboard. bold red calligraphy is sprawled across the rough-cut wood. “awfully simple name for such a stunning place, isn’t it?”

if he weren’t stewing in a pot of conflicted emotions, zhongli would surely inform him of how carefully selected this title was, how it represented more than just a name, how it hid at least several decades worth of effort and teachings— but as it is, he (really, of all people) has no patience for that at the moment. 

first tugging on the hem of your outfit, zhongli then takes you by the elbow and hastily leads you forward to the glass doors of the establishment. he grasps your hand in his as usual, but something must be off, because you twitch a little and look at him curiously. 

he turns his head away, lips pursed just the slightest.

“let us dine here for the time being. it is an appropriate time and place, after all.”

the sun shines brightly in the clear sky as if illuminating his words.

kaeya raises an eyebrow, singular eye looking on inquisitively and arms crossed, then moves further ahead of you both once more. the corner of his mouth dips in a clear show of mirth. bowing with one arm held at the waist, one not unalike a formality from a server, he looks straight into zhongli’s eyes and holds the door open for entrance. 

“that sounds like an excellent idea. well, if you would.”

-

“thanks for the tour around you two.”

kaeya hums his thanks with a cheerful lilt to his voice as you all stand under the porchlight of zhongli’s house. 

(it’s not the largest abode, but it’s cozy and sweet, and it’s definitely enough for the both of you whenever you decide to stay over. tonight is one of those nights, and they may as well become more frequent after the trip you took abroad.) 

his car keys reflect the glow of the bulb, swinging around his finger in loops. they clink noisily, metal against metal, and he grabs them all at once, halfway through another turn. in his car sits a box of treasure-themed artifacts, likely old and had found its way into your hands somehow. zhongli knows you’d been meaning to give them to someone, but he hadn’t known it were kaeya— either way, the artifacts that’d been laying on his shelves for weeks were now handed off. 

ruffling your hair, kaeya pulls you in for a brief hug; although zhongli can feel the bitter pang in his chest, he stays where he stands, keeps it still and small. he can wait. 

that said, the moment kaeya drives off, he’s hauling you into the house and curling up on the couch, pulling you onto his lap and tugging you into his arms. the long thought over gift sits patiently on the counter. it’s waited the entirety of today; it can wait another. 

right now, he needs you. 

your body sinks against his, relaxing from the lively, though exhausting, day. slumped against his chest, he burrows his head in the crook of your shoulder and cuddles you, nuzzling into your neck. finally, you’re home. home with him. 

it’s warm...

“..it was our day...”

you shift your head at his mumbling, lifting his chin to presumably look at his expression. your attention is his now. not kaeya’s. not anyone else’s. just his. 

(his eyes are soft and droopy, smudged red making them look especially mellow in the dim lighting, and lips pushed into the slightest pout. he knows what you’re seeing when you gaze at him fondly, and you can almost see the puppy eyes he sports. how unusual of him.)  

“someone’s a little jealous here, hmmm?” 

you drag out the syllables teasingly, and from lips that are pressing kisses against your skin, he responds a little muffled—

“perhaps.”

[burberryharold]

hey, lovies! i’ve been so excited to post this fic because i am in love with Harry and Jules and i hope you will be too (and excuse the lousy banner i just wanted to have something lol)! this is a part of @1dffchallenges’s valentine’s day challenge, so i hope you enjoy reading it and happy valentine’s day, it’s all about spreading love around so here is some love from me to all of you ❤️

a special thank you to @fireproofrry @bodejacketharry @strawberryystyles​ for beta reading and giving feedback, you are absolute angels <3

word count: 7.7k

warnings: none!

challenge prompt and dialogue: strangers alone on valentine’s day + “I’m allergic to chocolate. And roses.”

It’s official, valentine’s day is the worst.

At least that’s what Jules thought as she adjusted herself on the bar stool, trying to get into a comfortable position while she waited for her drink to be served.

It wasn’t in Jules’ agenda to spend what was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year alone at a bar ten minutes away from her apartment. If she was still with Leon, they would have been having a nice dinner somewhere, laughing over whatever funny story one of them had to share about their day at the company.

But alas, Leon was someone else’s now and Jules was only left with her own company.

Truth be told, though, Jules never minded being alone, in fact, she enjoyed being by herself because people were simply exhausting.

But being alone and being lonely were too completely different things, and Jules hated feeling lonely.

And valentine’s day only made that worse. Seeing loved up couples around her, flashes of red and pink everywhere she glanced, hearing cheesy love songs blasting through the speakers of the shops she passed by. Everything about valentine’s day just seemed to remind her of her lonely status.

Instead of staying at her apartment all night long doing nothing but watching rom coms and feeling sorry for herself, Jules thought of a better alternative, which was to get pissed drunk. So when she got up in the morning to go to work (because even on valentine’s day duty calls), she put on her favourite black dress, one that was sleeveless and had a deep v-neckline, and put on enough makeup to feel confident in the way she looked before pulling on her coat and venturing into the cold streets of London.

If she was going to get pathetically drunk by herself at a bar after work whilst everyone else was being all lovey dovey, then she would look hot doing it.

The sound of a glass coming in contact with the wooden surface broke her out of her reverie and she glanced up, finding that the bartender had placed her drink in front of her and he was beaming at her. “There you go, love, happy valentine’s day.”

After squinting at the name tag (she’s never seen him here before, he must be new), Jules forced herself to return his smile and lifted her glass. “Cheers, Jonah.”

Poor guy must have thought she was waiting for a date or something. Too bad, no one was going to be joining Jules on this fine evening. Just me, myself, and I.

Setting her glass back on the counter after taking a big gulp, Jules scowled as she was reminded of the items she had received earlier in the day. For some reason, Leon thought it was a good idea to give her a box of chocolates and a rose, even though they were no longer together and he had another woman by his side.

She appreciated the thought behind it, he probably just wanted to be nice or maybe he felt guilty, but his gift was staring at her, almost laughing at her misery and she wasn’t having it.

That is why she instantly asked Jonah for a fork, which caused him to send her a confused look but he complied nonetheless, and she proceeded to stab the pieces of chocolate placed perfectly in the box, taking out her frustration on the sweets.

Once satisfied, she dropped the fork with a clunk and heaved out a sigh, lazily resting her chin in her right hand before looking back at Jonah. He was staring at her with wide eyes as he dried off some shot glasses, surely thinking that she was a lunatic, but Jules just flashed him a sweet smile and shifted her eyes back to the chocolates she had just assaulted.

Poor chocolate, but oh well.

“Are you alright there?”

“What the fuc-“ The sudden voice caused her to jump in her seat and she almost fell off the bar stool if it weren’t for the hand that magically materialised behind her, holding her steady.

Before she had a chance to slap the hand off her back, the stranger retracted it and returned to his seat and she had the chance to take a proper look at him.

The man stared back at her with concerned eyes, a stool separating the two of them, but he was still not that far away from her. Jules wondered when he had gotten there because she certainly didn’t feel him arrive. Perhaps it was during her chocolate rampage.

What really surprised her though, more than his sudden appearance, was the fact that she knew who he was. In fact, she believed everyone knew the man sitting beside her because it was none other than Harry Styles.

Many questions ran through Jules’ head, the most important being what on earth was a guy like him doing at this bar on valentine’s day? Jules never believed in the image the media painted of him, but surely he has something better to do than be here, all by himself it seems?

As big of a fan as she was, the fact that he was right before her didn’t faze Jules all that much, her mind was more preoccupied by other matters. So, she ended up doing what she would’ve done if it was any other person: she glared at him and wordlessly turned back in her seat, pretending as if he wasn’t there.

He didn’t seem to take the hint.

“You were quite aggressive with the chocolate there.” His deep voice floated in the empty bar as he pointed at the box in front of her.

Jules inhaled deeply before responding in a flat tone. “I’m allergic to chocolate.” Glaring at the single rose lying beside the box, she grabbed it and tossed it on the floor beneath her, silently cursing Leon once more. “And roses.”

She felt guilty for littering, but she’d pick it up when she leaves. Eventually.

“Are you really?” The man beside her questioned, leaning forward in his seat, his body completely turned towards her at this point. She could tell from her tone that he was skeptical of her supposed allergies and she honestly couldn’t blame him.

“No,” she found herself shaking her head, signalling for Jonah to get her another drink, still keeping her body facing forward and only glancing at him from her peripheral vision, “I’m just fucking with you.”

To her surprise, he let out a small laugh, not seeming to be upset. Jules couldn’t help but turn her head a bit to look at him, finding a dimpled smile on his and she wondered what was wrong with this guy.

“May I ask why you were stabbing the poor sweets then?”

Figuring she should just put him out of his misery and answer his question, Jules huffed and crossed her legs, not missing the way his gaze flickered down for a split second before returning to her face. She ignored it and sighed, “Well if you must know, my ex gave them to me this morning.”

“Trying to get you to take him back?”

“Oh god no,” Jules laughed at the notion, her hand waving off his wrong assumption, “he’s as happy as can be with his new girlfriend.”

The blatant confusion on his face prompted her to provide more explanation.

“We broke up a couple of months ago, he left me for someone else. So he probably just felt guilty.”

“He left you for someone else? And before the holidays?” When she nodded in confirmation, he shook his head with a frown. “Bastard.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Valentine’s day just sucks, it’s just a reminder of how lonely you are,” she muttered with bitterness, “Of how lonely I am.”

“Well if it’s any consolation,” Harry said, pausing to ask the bartender for another drink, “I’m lonely tonight too.”

“Well, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t be here getting drunk on your own.” With a few drinks already in her system, Jules practically had no filter whatsoever (not that she really had one in the first place).

“Touché,” he clicked his tongue, then leaned back to chug down the rest of his glass. Jules was almost concerned by how quickly he downed his drink, but she’s not in a position to talk, after all, she’d been doing the same. “But I’m not getting drunk on my own now, am I? You’re right here.”

She scoffed, eyebrows raising at his words. “Who said I’m keeping you company? Or that I’m not leaving any second now?”

“I don’t think you are.” He responded with much conviction that it almost threw Jules off.

“You think too confidently about a stranger you just met.”

“Let’s fix the strangers part then, shall we? I’m Harry.” He extended his ring-clad hand and Jules noticed a coat of red nail polish on his fingers. How ironic.

She sighed before deciding to entertain him, grabbing a firm hold of his surprisingly warm hand. Maybe she’ll allow him to keep her company tonight. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to leave her alone anyway.

“Jules.” She simply responded before turning back to her drink, swirling the pink straw around. She made a mental note to thank Jonah later for the cute straw.

“Jules” Harry repeated, as if testing the name on his lips and Jules would be lying if she said that she didn’t like the way it rolled off his tongue. “Is that a nickname for Julie? Julia? Short for Juliann-“

“Juliet. It’s Juliet.” She interrupted his ridiculous ramble. He surely was inquisitive. And did she really look like a Julianne?

“Huh,” he hummed, gliding a finger over the rim of his glass, staying silent for a few seconds and Jules thought he was maybe done for the night.

She thought wrong, it seems.

“Oh, Juliet, oh, Juliet, where art thou, Juliet?” He dramatically recited, voice going deeper as he stared upwards at a spot over the bar. Simply put, Jules thought he looked ridiculous.

She could hear Jonah snickering in the background.

“It’s where art thou, Romeo, but nice try.” She rolled her eyes in response to his theatrics. Almost everyone she’s ever encountered has commented on her name and made a reference to the infamous Shakespearean tragedy that she’s never been too fond of. It’s why she mostly went by Jules.

No one’s ever recited that line though, however wrong it was. That was a first.

“I knew that,” the curly-haired man mumbled beside her, swirling his glass and watching the ice cubes swim around, “was just joking, geez, tough crowd.”

Jules couldn’t help but roll her eyes again in response. That joke got old a long time ago.

She’s beginning to regret coming to this bar tonight. Maybe she should’ve just headed straight home and cuddled into her blankets.

“It’s pretty, though,” he added a few moments later, “beautiful name for a beautiful woman”

No way. She huffed, spinning in her seat to face him once again. “That’s your line? Tell me, Mr. Rockstar, has that really worked on anyone before?”

She could tell he was a bit surprised but tried to hide it; unluckily for him, Jules was a very observant person, hardly anything passed her.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that-“

She interrupted him again and leaned in closer, resting her elbow on the countertop and raised an eyebrow. His eyes flickered for a fleeting second to the charm bracelet adorning her wrist. “So you don’t think my name’s beautiful? Or that I’m beautiful? Sheesh, Harry, you’re not looking good here.”

Harry spluttered, staring at her with eyes blown wide in panic and Jules almost felt bad for messing with him; it was just hard not to, she was lonely and he was right there annoying her with his lousy jokes, so he has the unfortunate fate of being her victim tonight (and truthfully, he brought it on himself). And if she was being honest, messing with Harry Styles was just too entertaining of an opportunity for her to pass on.

To be fair, she was a little annoyed by his presence in the beginning, having originally planned to wallow in her misery all by herself, but now she’s having fun. She might just enjoy her time with him.

“No- no of course I think you’re beautiful, y-your name too,” he responded in clear panic, seemingly trying to figure out how he can redeem himself. Jules’ attention was momentarily caught by the way his rings glimmered under the light as he flexed his fingers, still fumbling for a response. “I was just-“

“Styles,” she interrupted him, yet again, with a light-hearted laugh and shook her head, hair falling forward on her shoulders, “Relax, was just messing with you.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed and he heaved out a sigh of relief; his eyes then narrowed and he lifted his hand, pointer finger wagging in her direction. “You really like messing with people, huh? Not very nice of you.”

“Made you sweat, no? Was just having fun. I can now say that I’ve made the infamous Harry Styles stumble over his words. How much do you think they’ll pay me for that hot gossip? Reckon it would be a lot.” She said as she turned back in her seat, now facing the bar once again, but she knew he caught the smirk on her face and the teasing lilt in her tone.

Coming to the bar was definitely a good decision.

Harry felt like a proper idiot.

Here he was, sitting at a pub with a lovely woman that clearly didn’t want to be bothered, yet he had to fuck things up and be a git.

And the Juliet bit? Harry had never been more embarrassed, he didn’t know what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. He made sure to remind himself that he wasn’t that funny and should just stop trying to be. You’re making a fucking fool of yourself.

In spite of his rather embarrassing advances, Harry found himself enjoying Jules’ company immensely, even if she had barely looked his way when he had arrived at his spot.

She might’ve looked irritated by his insistent attempts to start a conversation with her in the beginning, but from the way her body has been facing him for the past half an hour and the smile or two she’d thrown his way, Harry had a feeling she was warming up to him.

He discovered that she was an accountant, which thoroughly surprised him because she didn’t seem like one. Harry doesn’t like to judge a book by its cover, but Jules definitely didn’t scream accountant, more like a Greek goddess or something. Her black dress hugged her body in a way that almost made Harry dizzy; he had noticed her the second he walked into the nearly empty pub – and before he could even think about it, he found his legs carrying him in her direction (he was already headed to the bar anyway, or so he told himself).

Admittedly, the way she was stabbing the chocolates had him fearing for his life for a split second, but Harry brushed it off and figured she just wasn’t a fan of valentine’s day, if her apparent disdain for the sweets and the rose before her was any indication.

He was also surprised to learn that she’d moved here from America about five years ago and this pub was one she often frequented, yet Harry had never run into her somehow despite coming here a lot and living not too far himself.

He’s glad their paths have finally crossed tonight, though.

That being said, Jules was definitely keeping him on his toes. He never knew what she was going to say next, and she certainly did not hold back from saying exactly what was on her mind.

Harry found himself liking that about her, even if her forwardness came at his expense sometimes (he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it). Oftentimes, people acted cautious around him and treated him differently just because of his status. Not Jules, though.

But now he could tell that she had something on her mind, from the way she looked at him then shifted her eyes elsewhere a second later.

“What is it?” He questioned, deciding to put her out of her fidgety state. He wasn’t sure what was holding her back, she certainly had no problem handing his ass to him earlier.

“It’s just,” she started, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, the movement catching Harry attention for a second before he reminded himself to be respectful, “what are you doing here by yourself tonight? I find it hard to believe that someone like you doesn’t have anyone to hang around on a day like this.”

Someone like him? Harry furrowed his eyebrows, not sure what she was implying with her words but he didn’t believe she meant it in a negative manner necessarily.

“That came out wrong, I didn’t mean anything like that,” she quickly defended, face becoming redder by the second and Harry was a little endeared by the sight. The woman before him was confident all throughout their conversation, having no fear in expressing her thoughts, yet now she was the flustered one. And Harry couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Time to give her a taste of her own medicine.

“What, thought someone like me had a flock of women at their beck and call and that I’d be off with one or some of them tonight?”

He gave her a blank look afterwards, pretending that he found offence in her words and he almost blew his cover at the way her face visibly fell.

“N-no!” she exclaimed, voice rising a few octaves and Harry could see the bartender, Jonah, suddenly flinch behind her from the sound. He pressed his lips together to silence the chuckle that threatened to escape and continued to stare Jules down.

“Of course I didn’t mean it like that,” she added in a much calmer tone, though Harry could detect that panic lacing her voice and he was starting to feel guilty. “I never believed that you were like that, I just,” she paused, averting her gaze away and staring at the lights above them instead, “never mind, just ignore me.”

Harry figured that she already knew of who he was and his status, and despite having just met her, the fact that she just said she doesn’t believe the rumours about him filled him with inexplicable warmth and he had to remind himself again that he’d only just met this woman. He shouldn’t feel anything of the sort towards her.

He could tell by the way her eyebrows were furrowed that she felt bad about what she’d said, so Harry called out her name and waited for her to look at him again.

When she did, her face holding an apprehensive look, he smiled at her and leaned a bit closer, which made little difference because there was still some space separating them.

“I was just messing with you, Jules,” he reached forward and flicked her nose, causing her to instinctively scrunch her face in a cute manner that had Harry’s stomach fluttering. “Doesn’t feel that nice now, does it?”

Jules chuckled in disbelief, wide eyes staring back at him and a smile was slowly stretching on her lips. “Touché. I see how it is then.”

Harry just shrugged, his own lips twitching as another smile threatened to appear. “Just having some fun, eh?”

Jules was now beaming at him and if Harry was standing, he was certain that his knees would’ve buckled at the sight. He already knew that Jules was gorgeous, and he was sure anyone would agree with him, but when as she smiled at him like that, eyes shining bright under the warm orange lights, brown hair cascading loosely yet somehow perfectly on her shoulders, there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that there was an angel sitting before him.

“Truce then?”

Her voice brought him back to earth and Harry chuckled before he shook her outstretched hand, marvelling for a moment at the way it felt enveloped in his. “Truce.”

“But to answer your question,” Harry said after a few beats of silence, glancing at her to find her eyes already set on him. “I didn’t have anything planned, haven’t been on many dates recently to be honest, so I just figured I’d come here and spend time with my good friend,” he lifted his drink with a wide grin on his face, “alcohol, the one thing that never let me down.”

Jules threw her head back in a laugh, the sound being music to Harry’s ears and he wished he could record it just to hear it again and again. “Amen to that.”

The two clinked their glasses together, laughing stupidly for no reason, before they threw their heads back to drink.

“Another round, then?”

Jonah suddenly appeared in front of them, startling Harry a bit. Sometimes he forgot that the man was lingering around behind the bar.

Jules took the liberty to respond for the both of them, exclaiming a “hell yeah, buddy!” that had the two men laughing, and soon enough their glasses were refilled.

After taking a sip, Harry leaned his head on the palm of his hand and set his eyes on Jules again, “So, are you a fan? Of me or of the band?”

He had to ask, he couldn’t help but wonder. If she was indeed a fan, she certainly didn’t show it.

Jules shrugged, playing nonchalant it seemed, but it didn’t escape him the way her cheeks seemed to redden. “Eh, I dabble. You’re alright.”

Her response made him chuckle. “Good to know.” Call him a narcissist, but he really wanted to know whether or not she liked his music. Perhaps he’ll inquire further later.

Because Harry knows that there’s no way he’s letting Jules go anytime soon.

Getting to know Harry was fun.

Sometime during the night, Harry had migrated from his seat onto the bar stool beside her, their thighs brushing against each other every now and then.

Tapping his fingers around his glass, Harry’s rings clinked against it and Jules couldn’t help but be slightly captivated by the action. She wasn’t one to stare at anyone’s hands, but she had to admit that Harry’s were fascinating to look at; his long and slender fingers, adorned by a number of his infamous rings, were truly a sight to see.

She took the chance to also admire his outfit, something she was too busy to do earlier on. His coat was long discarded on the stool beside him, which allowed her eyes to run over his figure. His upper body was covered by a plain white t-shirt with the word “Sex” displayed on his chest, a pair of pair of wide-legged black pants covering his long limbs; it was a simple fit yet it made it difficult for Jules to take her eyes off him. And his hair just looked so soft that her fingers were begging her to touch the fallen strands on his forehead.

Hearing Harry clear his throat broke her out of her trance and Jules realised from the smirk that stretched on his lips that she’d been caught in the act.

She tried playing it off, as if she hadn’t been shamelessly checking him out for the last couple of minutes and smoothed her hands down her dress, adjusting in her seat because honestly, her butt was starting to ache.

But she didn’t want to leave just yet.

Seeming to notice her discomfort, however, Harry downed the last bit of his drink before setting his glass down with a smack, causing Jonah, who was still lingering around them, to shoot Harry a warning glance and a low “careful!”, to which Harry smiled sheepishly before turning to face her again.

“Want to get out of here?”

Jules’ eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, having not expected him to want to continue spending the night with her.

“Sure there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?” She couldn’t help but question, still struggling to grasp the fact that he still wanted to be around her. Her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her dress, eyes staring into his emerald ones as she waited to hear his response.

Truth be told, she was enjoying his company far much more than she had anticipated and she didn’t want to part from him just yet.

To her relief, a dimpled smile adorned Harry’s face as he took in her words before he shook his head, “Trust me, Jules, there’s no one else I’d rather be with tonight.”

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t skip a beat at that.

The two got up from their seats after thanking Jonah and fighting over who’s paying because Harry insisted on paying for her drinks. As she was gathering her things, she felt Harry’s presence behind her and she realised, after looking at him over her shoulders, that he was holding her coat up for her.

Heat rushed into her cheeks at the gesture, finding it sweet that he was helping her when he didn’t really have to. “Thank you,” she whispered, turning to him with a smile after feeling him adjust her hair.

His only response was a faint “No need” and he quickly turned to shrug on his own coat, the bashful smile on his lips not going unnoticed by her.

Flashing Jonah another smile, Harry extended his arm towards her and nodded his head towards the exit. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

The two stepped into the night, the biting London air hitting Jules’ cheeks immediately and she was positive her nose was already red from the cold.

Jules reached into her pocket to grab her phone, realising that she hasn’t checked the device since she walked into the bar. There weren’t any notifications that she missed, which wasn’t surprising since her friends (all four of them) were out on dates or staying at home with their partners, so she was sure no one was thinking of her at the moment.

Noticing that it was already 8 in the evening and they were aimlessly walking down the street, Jules turned to Harry with a questioning gaze. “Where are we going?”

Leaning his head down to look at her (or perhaps to be closer, Jules wasn’t sure), he paused, seeming to think, before shrugging his shoulders. “Dunno if I’m quite honest.”

Jules found herself chuckling at him. How did her day end with her walking around with no purpose with a man she’d just met?

She looked at the sign closest to them before she turned to him and did something she rarely ever did. She found herself inviting him to her apartment because they were quite close.

A smirk found its way onto Harry’s lips and she started to regret her decision. “Already trying to get me into your bed, Juliet?”

She mentally cursed at the way her heart leaped upon hearing her name roll off his tongue. Almost no one called her Juliet anymore, except for her parents when they were being serious, but she found herself wanting to hear him say her name over and over again.  

Shaking her head at the thought, Jules reached her arm out and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Oh come off it, you idiot. You can just go ahead and cry alone in your mansion if you want.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender and muttered an apology, although the smile lingered on his lips and Jules tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her chest.

“Lead the way, then.”

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get us something to drink.”

The walk to her apartment was full of smiles and laughter. She’s come to the conclusion that Harry loves making people laugh, even if his jokes were actually awful, but she found it endearing; he was like a ray of sunshine bringing joy to those around him.

She was glad that she had cleaned up the place a couple of days ago, it would’ve been embarrassing to have someone over to see pyjamas and junk strewn over her furniture. Suffice to say, Jules was a bit of a mess around the house.

After hanging up her coat and Harry’s, she made her way into her kitchen and looked for the good wine she reserved for special occasions. She easily grabbed it, along with two glasses, but then Jules found herself lingering by the kitchen island.

It dawned on her that there was a man in her living room, and he wasn’t just anyone. This was Harry Styles, someone she’d long admired and holy shit was this really happening?

And as sad as it may sound, she’s never felt this connection with anyone before, never felt like the person before her got her and could keep up with her. Yet with Harry, it felt different, and that scared her because she’d only just met him a couple of hours ago.

And he was bound to forget all about her after tonight. He’s just looking for some company, and Jules didn’t think she was that special. Eventually, he’s going to leave. Just like everyone else.

Feeling like the black marble of the island was starting to swirl in her vision, Jules snapped out of her thoughts and sucked in a deep breath before moving back towards the living room.

Harry had his hands interlocked behind his back, perusing through her record collection and it made her inadvertently smile. She was proud of her vast collection of vinyl records, a good portion of them handed down to her by her father; they both had a deep appreciation for records that her mum often made fun of them for.

“Found anything you like?” He jolted at her voice, not having noticed her presence behind him, but then his shoulders immediately relaxed.

Turning towards her with a wide grin, Harry gestured to the shelf behind him. Jules liked the way he seemed to glow underneath the dim lights and she wished she could take a picture of this moment as a keepsake. “This is amazing, there are records here that I couldn’t even find.”

“You can thank my dad for that,” she told him, making herself comfortable on the couch but not breaking eye contact once, “he’s been collecting them for decades and I’m so glad he let me have some, like you should see his collection back home, it’s even more impressive.”

“Hope I’ll get to someday.”

His response caught her off-guard. Before Jules could react, Harry’s teasing voice carried through the room.

“You dabble, you said?” He smirked, turning the Fine Line record in hand to show her and also nodding to the space that held One Direction records. Jules groaned out loud and flopped against the back of the couch.

“A little yeah. Sue me.”

She blushed under his amused gaze, a little embarrassed that he’d found her collection of the band’s records and his own solo music.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, dimples adorning his cheeks, “think it’s cute that you’re a big fan.”

“Don’t know why that makes me cute but okay if you say so.” She mumbled under her breath, realising that he heard her when he chuckled.

“Mind if I put on something then?”

Jules shook her head, signalling for him to go ahead while she poured their drinks. Soon afterwards Stevie Nicks’ voice filled the silence and her lips tugged up at the choice.

The couch dipped beside her when Harry sat down, the scent of his cologne invading her senses. Jules doesn’t think anyone has ever smelled as good as him, but she chose to keep that thought to herself and instead handed him his drink.

A few moments of silence passed after he quietly thanked her, Stevie’s voice the only thing that can be heard.

“So,” he started, throwing an arm on the back of the couch, a shit-eating grin on his handsome face, “would I find any 1D posters if I went into your room?”

“Oh fuck you.” She threw one of the cushions at him, smiling at the way he threw his head back in laughter.

Jules did not mind his company at all.

“Hold on a minute,” Harry straightened up from his previously relaxed position on the couch, “you all work together and you see him and his new girlfriend every day?”

“Yup, you can imagine how fun that is.” She loved her job as an accountant, having always been fascinated with numbers, but she hated having to see him every day in the office across from hers.

It’s not like she hated him, they actually ended on good terms, all things considered. Leon wasn’t bad, he never cheated on her, but the feelings between them just died out, a flicker of something that dwindled into nothing. So, they were friendly with each other and that’s probably the reason why he brought her a box of chocolate and a rose.

But Juliet just didn’t like the daily reminder that she was in fact much lonelier than he was; it’s like rubbing salt in the wound.

“Shit, Jules, that must be hard,” he frowns, leaning forward to pat her hand, “I’m sorry you have to go through that.”

“It’s not that serious,” she mumbles, feeling heat rushing to her cheeks at the simple touch and she mentally cursed herself. She had sworn off men for the unforeseeable future. “I’m over him. You know, I actually think I was never really in love with him to begin with.”

“Why’d you think that?” He questions, his thumb still softly caressing her hand; Jules wasn’t sure if he was aware of that or was absentmindedly doing it. Either way, the touch warmed her.

“I think,” she started, setting her glass of wine on the coffee table so she could sink in further into the couch, the move unintentionally bringing her body closer to Harry’s. “I think I was just happy to have someone around, someone to spend time with. I’ve spent a lot of my life alone and I think I just clung onto him because he kept me company.”

A few beats of silence passed before she continued. “That makes me sound horrible, no, it’s not like I used him, I did enjoy his company and we had a lot of fun together, but I think I was just in love with the idea of him, not him.”

Harry nodded his head, leaning back and mirroring her position, “I understand. That’s how I felt in most of my relationships actually. I longed to have someone around so I wouldn’t be lonely, but I’ve learned over the years that having company doesn’t mean that you won’t feel lonely.”

“You sounded pretty heartbroken on your last record though.” If she wasn’t as inebriated as she was, Jules would have probably had some filter and wouldn’t have said that.

Luckily, Harry chuckled in response and relaxed further into the couch, retracting his hand from hers (she instantly missed the warmth), but he didn’t seem upset. “I was. I would say that I was actually falling in love with her, so I was a bit of a mess when she left me.”

His words made her frown. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t know how anyone could leave you.” She muttered under her breath, forgetting that she was usually louder than normal after she’s had a few drinks.

“Could say the same thing about you.”

With her cheeks flushed, Jules forced herself to look him in the eye again. “You don’t even know me.”

“But I’d like to get to know you.” He almost instantly shot back, resting his chin on his hand and his dimples made an appearance, “I think you’re very interesting.”

“Pfft, me? Interesting?” She laughed, waving him off with her hand. “I am anything but.”

“That’s not true!” Harry vehemently denied, sounding almost offended at the thought, which admittedly made Jules’ heart skip a beat. Just a little.

“I’ve spent a few hours with you now and I can already confidently say that you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met,” his eyes shone bright as she stared into them and she could somehow tell he was being sincere, “and trust me, I’ve met a lot of people.”

Dramatically placing a hand over her heart, Jules flashed him her biggest smile. “Oh how special that makes me feel, I can just die happily now.”

Even though she was being melodramatic, his words did cause Jules’ heart to flutter. In the past, some people told her she was annoying, or brash, and some others would make her feel invisible and undeserving of attention.

Harry, though, was unlike anyone she had ever known. From the moment they met, Harry made her feel like the centre of his attention, never once ignored her or brushed her off, even when she was taking the piss; his emerald eyes were always set on her, giving her his undivided attention as he listened to every word that came out of her mouth.

Jules was definitely not used to that.

Harry threw his head back in laughter, a sound that Jules found to be a beautiful melody, and gazed at her with those bright eyes. “Oh you’re insufferable, I take it back.”

She gasped in feigned shock, crossing her arms with force. “No backsies.”

Another melodic laugh left Harry’s mouth and she couldn’t stop the smile forming on her lips; right then and there, Jules decided that his laugh was one of her favourite sounds.

“Backsies?” He echoed, his tone still laced with laughter, “what are you, five?”

“Shut your pretty mouth.”

“Oh so you think I have a pretty mouth?” His smirk caused his skin to flush and she cursed herself for saying those words. She really needed to think before she spoke, something her parents always reminded her of.

She recovered quickly, bringing her glass closer to her mouth. “I mean, it’s fine, your lips are a little on the thin side but-“

“Heyyy now,” he protested, pink lips forming a pout and Jules definitely thought about kissing them at that moment. “That’s not nice.”

“Never claimed I was nice now, did I?” Jules smirked, feeling a sudden surge of confidence as she took another sip from her drink.

Jules did not miss the way Harry’s eyes seemed to darken just a little, his jaw tensing as she continued to stare him down. Harry leaned forward, mouth opening to respond when suddenly a shrill tone burst their bubble.

Patting the couch cushions, Jules was trying her hardest to forget the look on Harry’s face as she searched for her phone. Stop it, Jules, he’s an international rockstar and he won’t even remember you after tonight.

She sighed in relief when her hand made contact with the device, but that quickly turned into a groan upon seeing who the caller was. Looking back at Harry, who was leaning against the armrest simply staring at her, she shot him an apologetic look before she answered the call.

“Hey, mama” she closed her eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Not that she was expecting anything to happen between her and Harry, but the mood was definitely ruined now.

“Hello, honey, how are you? Are you home yet?” Her mother’s calming voice sounded from the other side of the line, making her smile a bit despite the interruption. Ever since the breakup, her mom made sure to call her frequently to check up on her, even though Jules insisted that she didn’t have to.

“I am home, mom, yes,” she responded, shifting her gaze back to Harry who was now leaning his head against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed.

“Good, good. Just checking on you, cariña, how was your night then?”

“It was fine,” she paused for a second, not sure if she should mention meeting Harry now, but she decided it was best not to, “had a few drinks then went straight home. Think I’m gonna go to bed in a few actually.”

She could tell by the way Harry’s lips twitched that he was awake and listening.

“I won’t keep you up then,” some noise was in the background and she heard her mother whisper to someone, “okay, honey, good night! And your dad says good night too.”

“Good night, mama,” Jules smiled, finding herself suddenly missing her family that she hasn’t seen since the holiday season. “Tell dad I said good night too, and that he better spoil you today.”

Her mother’s laugh ringed loud on the other side, “We’re going to dinner tonight, cariña, and he even got me a large bouquet of my favourite roses! Joseph shh- Alright then, bye bye, sweets, love you!”

“Bye, mama, love you too.”

A few seconds passed after she ended the call before Harry spoke up, head tilted to the side. “That sounded sweet. Does she check up on you often?”

Jules hummed in response, resting her head sideways on the sofa so was mirroring his position. “Especially after the breakup. She just worries too much about me.”

“I don’t think she needs to,” he shot her a gentle smile, one that made her want to wrap her arms around him and bask in his warmth, “her daughter’s a very strong woman.”

Not finding any words to say in response, Jules continued tracing Harry’s features, lazily admiring the slope of his nose, the curve of his brows, the sharpness of his jawline; everything about the man before her was mesmerising.

Turning her gaze back to his eyes, Harry flashed her another smile before sitting up straight, the smile slowly dropping. “I should probably go now, it’s getting late.”

Jules immediately wanted to shout “no!” and ask him to stay, but the rational part of her mind told her that she shouldn’t, that she would only set herself up for heartbreak when he finally leaves her.

So the only thing she could say was a faint “Okay.”

As they stood up, it seemed like Harry was holding back from saying something, but she didn’t know if she was just reading too much into things. It was probably just her hazy mind (though she’d argue her head has never been clearer)

They silently made their way to her door, Jules feeling deflated at the prospect of his departure. Would they keep in touch? Would she just become a distant memory, a miserable woman he spent a lonely valentine’s day with?

“Can I-“ Harry abruptly stopped in his tracks, causing Jules to almost run into his back because she was trailing behind him. His demeanour was suddenly all shy when he turned to face her, cheeks flushed crimson.

Jules waited with bated breath and wide eyes for him to continue, heart beating loudly in her chest.

“Can I have your number?”

Relief washed over Jules and Harry visibly relaxed at the bashful smile on her lips. Jules didn’t know why he was so nervous, but the sight was so endearing to her.

She added her number after he handed her the device, secretly smiling at her contact name Juliet x. She already earned herself an x after her name after a few hours? Jules’ heart was beating so loudly she feared Harry would hear its calls for him.

Jules watched him put his shoes on, wishing the night wouldn’t end so soon and wondering if it would be too forward to ask him to stay longer.

Deep in her thoughts, Jules didn’t register that Harry was standing in front of her, bodies close enough that the scent of his cologne engulfed her senses once more.

“I should go now.” Harry whispered, leaning down and wrapping his arms around her and Jules had never felt so whole. She’s heard about Harry’s incredible hugs and now that she’s experiencing it, she never wanted to let go of his warmth.

Harry broke their embrace much too soon for her liking, but not before peppering a gentle kiss on the side of her head. “Good night, Juliet.”

Say something. Don’t let him leave. “Good night, H.”

And then he was gone and Jules was left on her own once more.

After staring longingly at the closed door, as if he would suddenly appear behind it, Jules sighed and made her way back to the living room, slumping against the couch cushions and wishing Harry’s arms were around her again.

Her phone dinged on the coffee table, signalling the arrival of a text. A simple “Hey. I really enjoyed tonight. H” was staring back at her.

Jules contemplated for a few seconds, heartbeats picking up their speed again, before she whispered “fuck it” and clicked on his number.

“Juliet?”

Deciding to go after what her heart wants for once, Jules didn’t hesitate to respond, “Do you want to-“

But an insistent knock interrupted her and Jules wanted to scream at the intrusion. Who on earth would be knocking at her door at this hour?

“Harry, hold on just-“

She takes frustrated strides to the door, ready to yell, but the sight behind it made her anger immediately evaporate.

“H-Harry? What are you doin-“

“What were you going to ask me?” He interrupted, sounding a little out of breath and she wondered if he ran all the way back to her apartment.

Feeling emboldened by his return, Jules took a few steps towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands immediately grabbing her face and pulling her closer, their lips joining together in a gentle yet eager kiss. 

Jules felt her body melt in his hold. Their kiss only lasted for a few seconds before they pulled apart, still lingering so close that she could taste his wine-stained lips. 

“Stay?” Jules asked, rubbing her nose against his, her heart thudding in her chest as she waited for his answer. Her words carried more weight than she had intended them to and she hoped they wouldn’t scare him off. But her worries vanished when she felt him smile widely against her lips. 

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

Maybe valentine’s day isn’t so bad after all.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it and please come talk to me about Harry and Jules and tell me your thoughts!

[flowerwrites06]

diamond trail finale — myg

Plot: The theft of his most elusive and mystery possession leads to a web of trickery that threatens every large syndicate in the country. (alternative: Yoongis’ prized possession is stolen but he’s not the only gang leader being betrayed)

Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Yoongi x Consigliere!Y/N

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 3k+

Genre: Mafia | Marriage | Mature Themes/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: criminal activities, mentions of past abuse (outside of the pair), explicit smut (spanking and very brief anal play), mild violence, coarse language, prostitution, slightly more graphic physical violence in this part (it’s brief but beware) 

Authors Note: here's the finale peeps! hope you like how I ended everything off! as usual, let me know what you think of this story and a like/reblog/comment go a long way!

Nectar Oak still had the same atmosphere as it did all those years ago. The smell of allspice flowers and jasmines, plumes of smoke flowing out of the customers’ mouth as their wallets emptied and cheeks glowed from excitement. All the workers held themselves up with the elegance of a geisha despite knowing they’d never be considered to such a standard. You looked up at the height of the building. How much bigger it looked when your mother used to hold your hand walk you around the streets just for some fresh air.

You felt like a ghost eerily wandering the place an old part of you died. You didn’t miss it but you could feel her. The innocence of hoping that you’d never have to work here and the relief of finding a better life. Not the best life. It was still filled with tears and suffering but at least here, she was in power. And she had the people she loved.

Silk red robe draped upon your form, resemblant of a traditional hanbok twisted and ‘modernized’ to create an erotic appeal. Golden vectors curled to accentuate your waist, the band covered your torso to enhance the curve of you breasts and you hair loosely tied by a gold clip encrusted in emeralds. You habitually touched your finger but found it empty, a small twinge of anxiety grew heavy in your chest.

*With a deep reluctant breath, you pulled off your wedding ring, hugging it to your chest before carefully placing it in a jewelry box for safe keeping.

When Yoongi saw you, a cold wave washed over him. Like the cruel turns of time twisted back to those days where he felt the walls closing in on him. Preventing him from holding onto his parents’ legacy for his mother and building his own family. His heart already dropped into the pit but he still noticed the ache. “Let’s get this over with.” He muttered under his breath.*

The owner of Nectar Oak became one of your connections. A solid reminder that things were not as it used to be. You talked to him like you were his equal rather than a worker. He also had enough brains to know he wasn’t talking to a random worker anymore. He was speaking to someone who could break his business in a blink. The thought of it caused sweat to drop on the sides of his temple.

“You know how to promote me, Jung,” you spoke as you two sat in his office. “Just do what you do best and your building will stay safe and funded.” A smile tugged at your lips, sadness gripping your gaze but you knew well to hide it from the likes of his kind.

Yoongi secluded himself in one of the courtesan rooms. He sat on the velvet couch, shirt sleeves rolled up and a cigarette between his fingers, burning eyes fixated on the cameras set up inside Nectar Oak. Particularly targeting you and Jungkook.

The man-child arrived in a half hour. Exactly on time. Black dress shirt and his cheeks sucking in an almost burnt out cigarette, dark hair messy and damp with the look of someone who was given everything he wanted. He blew the plume of smoke as he eyed the courtesans dressed in coloured silk.

Jung, the plump owner of the courtesan house pranced over to Jungkook with a jovial smile. “Welcome, sir!”

“Jung.” Jungkook grinned, leaning against the emerald marble counter. “What’ve you got for me?”

“Only the finest, Master Jeon.” Jung chortled, grabbing the hardcover book designed in teal and gold vectors. Inside were different pictures and descriptions of all the patrons that lived in the current courtesan house. “We have your favourite selections of curvy and petite as you well know. There’s also the special treatments if you require a little more spice.”

Jungkook scanned the book with an air of a teenager seeing a picture of a naked woman for the first time. Hungry eyes finally stopped and stared at one picture. “Who is she?”

“Uh—oh, she’s not quite available yet, sir.”

Hunger turned to determination. “Why not?”

“Well—see her prices—she’s one of our most risky patrons.”

“You’re saying I can’t afford her?”

“No, no no no!” Jung chuckled nervously without hitch of losing his act. “It’s just—only a select amount of customers have actually been able to have a session with her. She has her own ground rules, you see and some extremely challenging—eh—punishments if those rules are abided by. Experienced employee benefits.”

Yoongi had to hand it to him for his marketing skills. Anyone like Jungkook would love a challenge if someone thought they couldn’t do it.

“I’ll take her,” Jungkook said. “Whatever the price.”

“Oh, sir—”

“I don’t like waiting, Jung. Let’s not taint this friendship we have, hm?” Jungkook narrowed his gaze.

Jung let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Of course, sir. I will call her down.” He pressed on one of the buttons at his desk.

Yoongi heard the buzz from the vanity table where you sat.

You stood up from the chair, walking out of the room without sharing a glance at Yoongi so you could steel yourself. The time for softness wasn’t now.

Walking down the wooden stairs, even the echoes of your shoes were too familiar. Time rewound, bringing you right back where you started. No. You mentally shook your head and raised your chin. Your presence lit up the room, silencing the younger members and alerting the other customers. The silk train left behind exuded an air of magic, like wildflowers growing at your every step.

All the illusion of a trained courtesan in this country.

Jungkook stared at you, hunger burning in his eyes as he stamped the cigarette on the silver ashtray lain on the counter.

“Master Jeon,” you said, bowing in front of him. “Pleasure to be of your service.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Jungkook spoke with the delicacy of a lover but the fire of a conqueror. “Jung here holds you to high regard in this establishment.” He walked close to your form until he towered over you, feeling the filmsy satisfaction for seeing your gaze lift for him. “I’m excited to see what the mystery is all about.”

You side-eyed Jung with a calculated smug smile, reddened lips and eyes moist. “He’s an enthusiastic man but not a liar, I assure you. One doesn’t make a room stand still like this without having a few skills under her skirt.” Your cheeks glowed like polished jewels.

Jungkook chuckled under his breath. “That’ll be all, Jung.”

Jung bowed with a wide grin and walked away.

You held onto Jungkooks’ hand. “This way, sir.” Nervousness faded completely as the mission at hand became your first priority. The scent of opium was thick around Jungkooks’ form as he shifted closer, nudging his nose in your hair slightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Master Jeon.”

“Oh? Nice things I hope.”

“Tales of conquering the higher ups and standing up for the street dwellers.” You looked over your shoulder. “You’re a hero amongst the whispers of the alley.”

If confidence had a physical form, it’d be like gold oozing down Jungkooks’ ears and mouth like tears and slobber after sex. He was young. His nerves were easy to tug and manipulate to your whim. “Do you think I’m a hero?”

You hummed with a cheeky shrug. “I like physical proof of things rather hearsay. Lingers more on the mind.”

“I can fix that soon.” Jungkook moved his hand over to your waist, squeezing and digging into the skin. You tried not to wince. “And when I’m done with you, you can watch the chaos I created soon.”

“Chaos?”

“I’ve achieved a magnificent feat of having the Queen of Gae Pa herself…” He pressed his lips against your ears. “…giving herself over to me.”

A tiniest twinge of anxiety tugged at the back of your mind but you stayed steady. “Was I really that obvious?”

“If I could steal all of the most powerful gangs’ precious items, I think I could recognize your face.” Jungkook traced a finger down your cheek. “Must say you’re a thousand times more beautiful than your pictures.” He moved his fingers down to the curve of your breasts. “Your daughter looks just like you.”

The anxiety that tugged now flooded your entire body, hot rushing in then freezing. All in confusing pattern until your head started spinning. Glossed eyes blinked slowly and your chin raised, staying strong.

“I have my own spies too,” Jungkook whispered. “There’s alleys and streets everywhere. Enough sorry souls to do anything for a new life. You understand that, don’t you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Do you have her with you?”

“Oh no…I’m not that evil.” Jungkook jutted his lips out. “She can stay happily in that cute safehouse. Except there’s eyes always on her.”

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. A neutral expression on your face. “What’s your negotiation?”

“Nothing special. Just for all the Dons to pledge themselves to me.” Jungkook shrugged. “Especially Don Kim and your husband.” He tilted his head. “You also know just as much as I do that I have every measure possible to ensure they won’t say no.” Palm traced up her back to her neck. “And I also require your mind. Despite my little street friends running around, you have the most connections known to the underworld. Your body could be a wild bonus.” He smirked.

You raised your chin, breath sucked in and stuck in your throat. “I don’t want to talk in the hallway. Everything is being recorded.” You spoke under your breath.

Jungkook hummed as you brought him towards the bedroom.

Yoongi refrained from trying to break another mug of coffee. Instead he listened carefully. Anxiety shook through his body hearing a stranger—no, their fucking rival—speak of their daughter. But he knew what had to be done. Eyes sharp, he flickered his gaze over to the corner of the courtesan room. The bed adorned in red and gold silk sheets held a figure, both arms tied to the bedposts and his mouth gagged with cloth, stained with the blood from his fresh glistening wounds.

He stood up from his chair, hands dug in his pockets as he examined the heaving body. “You’re up, Kim.” A sinister smile flashed to Taehyung. Silent reminder on who held one of the underworlds’ pillars. The lead alpha of this country. That same terrifying individual now stood here, heated with anger and the urge to protect his family sent sizzles throughout the room.

Taehyung blinked slowly as the realization hit him.

Jungkook wasn’t coming out of here unscathed.

***

It was the best news you received in a while. They found him. Kim Taehyung.

Your notes at the auction managed to help the spies track down the buyer. Apparently they wanted to be rid of it after hearing of the murders in the other gangs. They kept it hidden in their backyard instead of displaying it. You took it off their hands and sent it to Jwi Pa.

Despite their current clean slate, the gang still had the best trackers. You needed them to find the elusive auctioneer. The moment they saw the ledger in your gloved hand, they were putty. Any request and they would abide.

Kim Taehyung lived in a private estate personally gifted by Jeon Jungkook once he rebuilt Mal Pa to its former glory. As soon as his location was exposed, it took only a couple of minutes of breaking through security and having the man in their grasp. Jungkooks’ weak spot.

Nor Yoongi or Namjoon were happy to see him. Both of them failed to push back their punches but they knew enough to keep him alive.

“There’s a high chance Jungkook will know my face,” you said.

“So send someone else,” Namjoon suggested.

Yoongi tightened his jaw, not wanting to admit the truth that was right in front of him. “She’ll know what to do better than anyone.”

“You have so many talented spies!” Namjoon gestured wildly. “Fucking hell, I hate that I’m the one who has to admit it.”

“A scenario, Namjoon.” You intertwined your fingers together. “If Jungkook sees through the operation, what do you think they’ll do to a faceless spy?”

“If it’s her then Jungkook will be distracted.” Yoongi curled his fingers into tight fists.

“Well enough for me to actually bring him to the room whether he finds out or not.”

Namjoon let out a frustrated sigh. “Why is it so annoying that it’s a good idea?”

“For the first time, Kim, I agree.”

You gave them both sharp looks. “We end this now. No hitches.”

***

Opening the door, Yoongi noticed your glossed eyes. He wanted to hold you right there and then but there was still work to be done. Yoongi knew partly you were maintaining an act. It wouldn’t finish until the curtains were closed.

“Don Min!” Jungkooks’ lips stretched ear to ear. Expression bright and confident of the achievement right in his grasp. In a split second, his gaze flickered over to the tied figure. The golden tones of his skin lost its vibrancy, grin disappeared and his eyebrows in the realization of the bleeding man. “Tae—”

Taehyungs’ groans and screams muffled by the soaked cloth. Eyes flooded with tears as Namjoon closed the door behind Jungkook. There was no way to escape.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder. Both the leaders of Gae and Sutal Pa together in the same room. Caging him in. Namjoon had a satisfied smirk, dragging the stone mallet towards him.

Out of instinct, Jungkook pulled the gun out of his holster and pointed it to your chest. A sense of accomplishment rushed through him when he saw Yoongi raise his gun frantically. He could do this. All that progress to come this far from a street rat to a gang leader. It couldn’t all end here in a second. It was too quick. He needed to breathe. "Want to see which bullet reaches first?”

Taehyung protested through his cloth, struggling out of the rope.

You pushed Jungkooks’ hand to the side with your left hand, causing a stress shot to speed past your shoulder. Right ear ringing, you used your other hand to reach for the grip. Gun now in clasped in your hand, end of the barrel pointed at Jungkooks’ heart.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate taking a shot at Jungkooks’ leg, causing him to drop on his knees with a pained grunt.

Namjoon chuckled with a raspy tone, raising his stone mallet. “What a good day.” He slammed the mallet on Jungkooks’ calf. The crack and scream that came afterwards was one that could haunt you at night. But it was nothing new in the underworld. You try to break the underworld pillars, they’ll break you back ten times worse. It was the law in this hell.

You watched Jungkook thrash on the ground, blood darkening the wooden floor. Mixed with Taehyungs’ loud sobbing. It was a nursery rhyme of nightmares. Melodies of suffering that will melt into the walls of the courtesan house. No one will speak of it but they’ll know. They’ll never forget.

***

The new dawn arrived golden and the birds sung the continuous reign of Gae and Sutal Pa. Mal Pa was once again broken down into chaos as their usurper leader stepped away from his position and hid away after the two gangs made their example clear. Taehyung, still healing from his own wounds, opted to stick by Jungkooks’ side. The new looming darkness over their faces were hard to miss.

“If it’s worth anything, Jeon, you did good.” Yoongi stood over him on the stretcher. “Just not good enough.”

Jungkook stayed silent, gaze averted to focus on Taehyungs’ shirt. “Might not be me but someone else’ll come back to do the same thing. You can’t reign forever.”

The diamond ending of every underworld devil. Every gang had it. That one day when everything falls apart before their eyes and there was nothing to do about it. A fate worse than assassination.

Sun peaked through the buildings, framing Yoongis’ silhouette and casting warmth on his cool cheek. “It’s true. But when it does, it’s gonna be by my hand.”

Jungkook blinked over at him in confusion.

Yoongi smirked, gently tapping his shoulder. “Get well.” That day for Yoongi wasn’t to be shut down by another gang or a new leader. But to throw the match in himself and see it all burn. The beautiful end to his diamond trail.

Jungkook and Taehyung were moved to secluded area, away from any kind communication with the underworld.

Street dwellers will be loyal to anyone that could promise them something good. Now that Jungkook couldn’t provide it anymore, they scurried like rats under Yoongi or Namjoons’ wing. The underworld, even in the top ranks was cruel and brutal, leaving no mercy for even the good-hearted.

When you arrived back to the manor, the first thing was to remove the god awful dressing from the courtesan house. You draped back into your work dress, letting out a sigh of relief that it was all a play.

Namjoon paid a small visit to cast a farewell. Shaded eyes scanned across the mansion, admiring the architecture and paintings. Or just staring at them to avoid eye contact with Yoongi. “So European.”

“My mother grew up travelling between France and Italy,” Yoongi said. He dug his hands into his trousers. “She really liked all the architecture of the old buildings.” His heart swelled remembering the years after their father passed away. They found a new venue and spent over a year just working on the house. It was the most time they had ever spent alone without any kind of distractions from their father.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking—what happened to your mother?” Namjoon asked. “She was quite young when she married.”

Yoongi hummed, a sad smile tugged on his face. “She wasn’t well for a long time. Since she gave birth at a young age, the stress of it had lot of side effects in the long term. She held out long enough to ensure that I wouldn’t have to live with my father alone.”

Namjoons’ expression softened. “I’m sorry. Having a good family member in the household is already a rarity in itself. I can’t imagine losing them.”

In the small silence, you stepped down the stairs. You met the two men with a kind smile, fingers intertwined together. “Nice to see you two playing nicely.”

Yoongi smiled. “Of course.”

You, Namjoon and Yoongi padded outside of the manor into the afternoon light. The black SUV glinted and the guards looked like insects scurrying to their positions so that Namjoon was protected.

Pausing at the end of the entrance stairs, Namjoon turned to face the two of you. “It was fun working with you—just lighten up a little more.”

“Not a chance,” Yoongi stated plainly. “But—it was good not being at war for once.”

Namjoon smirked, eyes flickered to you with a softened expression. “Good day, my lady.”

You nodded in acknowledgement as the male turned on his heel and climbed into his SUV. A sense of relief washed over your form. Yoongi took your hand and escorted you back into the comforts of the manor.

“The diamond gun is back in its original place.” Yoongi let out a long exhale, emptying his chest of the anxiety. “I can take a fucking nap now.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. A silent reminder that nothing was lost in this fight. You were safe and your childs’ location was still unknown to everyone else. “I know what you were doing.”

“You did?” A smile stretched across your lips.

“Taehyung was just a final tick.” Yoongi led you over to the couch, settling down with a deep sigh. “Jungkook was more terrified at the fact that Namjoon and I actually worked together.”

“If you two fought then both the pillars would’ve been crumbling. Easy for Jungkook to break.” You traced your fingers across his raven fringes. “Maybe you two should stop bickering so much. Just in case another street dweller comes in to hurt you.”

“One step at a time, my love.” Yoongi smiled, throwing his head back against the couch. “How’s Jewel?”

Jewel was her nickname. Her eyes shone even when there was no light reflecting off them. Maybe it was just their rosy lenses but you didn’t care. “She’s been moved to another safehouse. She says she’s happy.”

“Good.” Yoongi nodded. “That’s good.” He held onto your hand and kissed it. “We’ll all be together soon for the holiday. I promise.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” You raised a brow.

Yoongi loved his new family.

<< prev chap | 

[magniloquent-raven]

31 and 42 for any character(s) you want

eyyy ty for the ask 🥰

31. most prized possession

billy has one picture of his mother.

he managed to keep some of her stuff hidden from neil. a few small things. a filigree dolphin ring she’d left by the bathroom sink, a rinsed out jam jar full of her favourite bits of sea glass, and a paperback novel with curling edges and a broken spine. he used to pester her while she was reading, ask her endless questions until she relented and read out loud for him. didn’t matter what she was reading, he barely paid attention to the stories anyways, he just liked to hear her do the voices.

and all of those things are important to him. (he keeps them in separate hiding places, in case neil ever goes looking through his things, he doesn’t want them all thrown out at once, if it comes to that.) he’s read the book dozens of times. he used to wear the ring when he was alone in his room, but he outgrew it years ago. when he has the house to himself he sorts through the sea glass, lays it all out on his bed and tries to remember the stories she told about each piece.

and he treasures all these little keepsakes, but none more than the single, faded photograph he has of the women herself. a polaroid he took when he was too young to hold the camera properly. it’s crooked, and at a weird, unflattering angle, the sun blotting out a whole corner of the photo, but her smile is still clear and visible, and that’s all that matters.

because she left when he was so young. and he worries that one day he’ll forget what she looks like.

so he looks at the picture every day. sometimes just a glance, to remind himself, and sometimes, when he’s snuck in through his window after a party, drunk and woozy and in his feelings, he’ll sit on his floor and look at it til his eyes get tired and he can’t blink away the tears anymore.

and i think that steve would have a weird relationship with possessions. like. as a teenager, stuff feels like a burden sometimes. all the things his parents bought. he isn’t allowed to complain about his parents not spending time with him because they’ve given him things instead. that they’re at least somewhat invested in keeping him alive. his dad would definitely be one of those “you’re so ungrateful, and after we fed and clothed you all these years” kind of parents.

so he has all these things that are supposed to mean something to him, but they just. don’t.

then when him and billy become tentative friends, billy decides he’s deeply and personally offended by steve’s taste in music. and he makes him a mixtape. it’s just. songs billy likes. music that doesn’t suck scribbled on the label, with a dumb little winky face drawn on the corner. it is in no way a romantic gesture, except. excep steve’s already got a massive crush on billy so, really, he couldve handed over a fucking math textbook and steve still would’ve gotten butterflies over the fact that billy thought of him at all.

and then billy listens to it with him. talks to him about it. it’s not just that billy thought of him, made something for him, but it’s an excuse to spend time with him too.

and when they start dating billy starts to give him other stuff. little things. a wonky little stuffed turtle he snagged from a claw machine while steve paid for their pizza. a piece of sea glass he found when they took a trip to the beach (he looked real serious when he handed it over, his eyes a little distant, and steve didn’t quite understand why, but the frown was easily kissed away). and a couple more mixtapes over the years. that steve would keep even when they couldn’t be played anymore.

he keeps these things in a fancy little wooden box on his dresser, all polished and shiny with gold plated hinges. full of all the things billy’s ever given him. and maybe it’s a little fucked up that sometimes he thinks he keeps these things because he needs the tangible proof that he’s loved, and that without all the little tokens of affections he’d just float untethered and unsure, but. they aren’t just things anymore, they’re memories, and love

42. hobbies

i absolutely adore the idea of post s3 billy just. doing a bunch of grandma activities lmao. his lungs and his heart are all busted up and there’s residual chest pain and he just can’t be as active as he used to be. plus he’s not as social anymore. being possessed and traumatized will do that to you. and then people start to notice that he’s stuck at home, bored and depressed. max notices. steve notices. word gets around.

and somehow their campaign to help him leads to him learning how to bake (max starts taking out cookbooks from the library and giving them to him) and taking care of plants (steve buys him cacti and herbs and anything that blooms blue) and eventually mrs henderson teaches him how to knit. (doc owens says it’ll be good for his hands, keep his fine motor skills sharp. and he doesn’t laugh. which helps)

and all of it helps keep him occupied. keep him from wallowing too much. and it’s nice to make things. keep things alive. feels like a step forward

and idk about in canon, but whether it’s an au thing or not, i love steve as an artist. he’s not great with words, and he just feels. dumb a lot of the time. he’s not intellectual. not good at school, things that his dad and his teachers tell him he’s supposed to be good at if he wants to amount to anything. but when he gets bored in class, when he just doesn’t understand the book he’s supposed to be reading, or he can’t follow along with the complicated formulas up on the board, he doodles. his notebooks are full of little drawings. caricatures of his classmates. landscape snapshots of what he can see through the window. he gets restless and his mind wanders but when he’s drawing he focuses.

and he doesn’t really show people. doesn’t tell anyone. he doesn’t think of himself as an artist, he just can’t concentrate in class so he doodles. it’s a shameful thing.

but maybe a teacher notices. takes an interest. encourages him a little. and its not much but it’s a start. lets him think about it a little more positively. he still hides it from his parents, he knows it’d just end with a lecture from his dad, but he feels less shitty about himself when he flips through his notebooks that are full of more pictures than words.

headcanon asks

[insertmeaningfulusername]

📚

Thank you kitten 🥰

OMG okay so: the plot of a fanfiction I'll never write but occasionally dream about. Well, you know how there's this post that goes something along the lines of "Oh to be a handsome young seaman on shore leave reading a little blue magazine entitled Homosexual Life while the baker's son eyes you from across the street suggestively"? Yeah, this but Cherik it. Charles, heir to the Xavier fortune, has run away from home and signed up as a deckhand on a ship. His journey takes him all over the world, and once to a town on the German/Polish/Netherlandish shore - where he meets Erik, the local Jewish baker's son, who offers him half-burnt raisin buns from his mother's oven because they'd be thrown away anyway. Of course, Charles can't help but adore Erik - adore the way his apron clings to his slim waist, adore the way his nose or forehead or bare lower arms are always dusted with flour, adore the way his hands are soft and warm and gentle (because this Erik never lost his parents and grew up in a kind, loving home). And Erik in turn is enticed by the air of mystique and adventure that surrounds the Nice English Boy From The Docks (Edie's words). He wants Charles to take him away, to show him the seven seas and all their wonders - or, if that doesn't work out, wants him to stay and take over his parents' bakery once Jackob and Edie retire. Of course, that's not how it happens. They share a few nights of secret passion in the small bed in Erik's room - the attic of the bakery, and it's right above the room of Erik's parents, so they have to be quiet (they aren't always, but Edie and Jackob are just glad that Erik's started to sing love songs while helping them prepare the bread and pastry dough). Then, Charles has to go back to sailing the seas. He promises Erik he'll write. He promises Erik he'll come back. He promises Erik he'll think of him every night when he looks out the porthole and sees the stars twinkling in the cool night sky. After a few months, the letters stop coming. Erik almost falls ill with worry, and Edie starts to think she might've misjudged Charles - kind, polite, dashing Charles, who always avoided questions about his family and his past. But life goes on, and the oven still has to be fired up every early morning and the dough still has to be kneaded, and so, Erik does just that. But he never, ever forgets, and keeps Charles' last few letters safely locked away in a precious little wooden box. From this point on, the story could go two ways. One, Erik and his family read the paper one day and find a short article - it's international news, nothing important, just a piece of gossip - about a young homosexual heir of a rich English family who ran away from home and got himself lost at sea while serving as deckhand on a ship. With the article comes a photograph. It shows Erik's Charles, younger and better groomed and sadder. Edie has to pry the paper from her son's trembling fingers, and Jackob burns it immediately. They don't know if they should be glad about Erik finally finding closure, or saddened about the lover he's lost. Two, Erik opens up shop one morning - years after Charles left, and months after his parents gave the biggest part of the family business into his hands - and looks out across the pavement to the docks and the calm sea beyond, as he always does. Some days, he sees the fishermen return with their catch, and other days, he sees street curs fight over a rotten bone. Today, however, a lonely figure by the very edge of the quays catches his eye. They're in a wheelchair, looking out across the sea as they absent-mindedly feed a few morsels of stale bread to the seagulls swooping low above the waves. Then, after the last of the bread is gone, they grab the hand rims of their chair's wheels and turn, at the same moment as the sun rises in the east and sends its golden glow spilling over their figure. Erik is across the street and by Charles' side before he even realises he's moving. All that matters is that Charles is alive and well and here - that he's kept his promise from so

many years ago.

[mashedpotittiess]

Arrangements Ch 1

Title: Arrangements. Chapter Title: It’s just a little crush.

Pairing: Lim Sejun x Reader. Mentions of Choi Byungchan and non mentions of Do Hanse, Heo Chan, Kang Seungsik, Han Seungwoo and Jun Subin as well as OC’s.

Summary: He was the aggravating fuckboy roommate of your best friends but maybe that’s what caused you to agree to such an arrangement. But will the arrangement work out? Between mutual friends, his other hookups and a certain romantic interest on your part, this could all be trouble.

Words: 6,500

Rating: PG13 but will eventually become M

Genre for this Chapter: College! au, Angst.

Tags/Warnings: Drinking, Mentions of sexual scenarios, mentions of possible drug use (a roofie), Mentions of someone possibly wanting to take advantage of someone (While Nothing happens I need to put this as a warning as it can trigger some past experiences readers have had)

Fic Series inspired Playlist Link:

Taglist: @a-mess-of-fandoms @dnyad

——————————-

You hated Lim Sejun and his band of one night stands. Before anybody assumes it’s a case of “oh she has it bad for him and she’s just jealous” you were in no way into him like that and in no way jealous of the Grey haired man you dubbed ‘FookBoi’ nor his female companions. He simply cramped your style.

When he moved into your best friends apartment as a third roommate you thought you’d have the same dynamic with your friends that you had had for about a year before his sudden appearance. But you were sorely mistaken.

It was Friday night and you had your body sprawled over the deep grey fabric of the couch with your sock covered feet lying on your best friend Do Hanses blanket covered lap. Byungchan had occupied the black leather like single seat to your right and you all were currently debating on whether or not twins were creepy. The debate brought to you by you all watching The Shining once again.

“How could you even think twins are creepy? It’s clearly just the matching outfits with the head tilting that eludes to the creepy factor” you were thrown into a fit of laughter as Hanse imitated the twin’s expression when Johnny first saw them, his lip ring glinting in the soft shadows of the single lit lamp to his right. Byungchans dimples were on full display as he couldn’t help but laugh as well. You really did try not to blush at his adorable face. You had a thing for one of your best friends and you couldn’t help it, your small crush had existed for around 8 months are you knew it was a matter of time before it was known.

You were admiring his soft contours of his face down to his defined jawline and back up to lip plump lips curled upward around his teeth as his focus was still on Hanses face when the front door slammed open causing you three to jump in surprise. Hanse grabbed your feet as if to use your unicorn print covered appendages to shield himself from the big scary monster he assumed had not only come through his front door but also used a key.

As you tore your gaze away from the man you had been admiring you looked up to see Lim Sejun walking passed the back of the couch with some blonde traipsing her body on his ebony leather jacket covered shoulder. He threw you a smirk as he had undoubtedly witnessed your admiration for his roommate. “Enjoy your movie” was all that left his lips before you heard a woman’s giggle and the closing of his door followed by a hard thump.

Pulling your feet back to your body you crossed your soft cotton short covered legs and snatched a fist full of buttery salty popcorn from the shared bowl in the center of the dark wooden coffee table situated in front of you. Hanse pulled the off white blanket closer to his body and used a black nail polish covered finger to press play on your movie. As you took another bite full of popcorn your munching was cut short by a woman moaning a loud “Unngh yes Daddy” Choking on the salty kernels your face took on a sour expression and you turned to see Hanse grimace and Byungchan blush a bright crimson followed by a shake of his head.

The sounds of what started as a soft mumbling were turning into a shrieking of sorts causing you and your best friends to stand up together and make a beeline to Hanses bedroom. You all knew it would be no use to higher the television to try and drown out the sounds of pleasure the two people in the room next to the living room were feeling. Clutching your beloved popcorn and fizzy coke you settled yourself in the middle of the light blue jersey sheet covered bed. Hanse with the fuzzy blanket from the living room took up the space to your right and Byungchan settled himself on your left, his long legs sprawled out, his green and yellow parakeet printed socks causing you to smile softly.

With a few clicks of the remote the movie had been ready to be continued but before you could immerse yourself into the infamous “Redrum” scene, Hanse decided to look you straight in the eyes and with an obnoxiously loud screech he let out a “ HOOOYAH D A D D Y.” His eyes rolling back into his skull. Fake gagging you shook your head and slapped his tattoo covered shoulder over his thin tank top. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

Curling yourself into your oversized hoodie you got comfortable with both of your best friends, settling yourselves once again into weekly movie night. As the movie played you were brought back to what had just happened in the living room. While this certainly wasn’t the first time your plans were ruined by Mr ‘Fookboi’ himself, it still irked you. You knew this wasn’t your apartment and you had no say what happened around here but you missed the fun times you three had had without the possibility of hearing ridiculously loud sex take over the three bedroom apartment at any time of the day or night.

Hell, before Sejun moved in, the boys had shared an apartment with a man named Seungsik. He was genuinely nice and even joined in for a couple of your movie nights. It was peaceful and the only loud banging happened in the apartment was when Hanse attempted to make cookies and the clanging of pots and pans that most certainly weren’t used in baking resounded throughout the shared space. But that peace was cut short when Seungsik accepted a study abroad opportunity and Sejun occupied his space.

You spent about 4 days out of the week here and you swore there was a new female face that accompanied Sejun almost every one of those days for the passed six months that he had been living here. You were in no way sex shaming him as you believed everyone can do whatever they wanted with their own bodies but his choice in woman was sometimes infuriating. They held no respect that this was a shared apartment and it showed.

From the Brunette last week who had walked around in nothing but a towel while you helped Hanse study for his Psych midterm to the Blonde the week prior that you caught using YOUR purple toothbrush that you had left in one of the two bathrooms for nights you slept over. Like who the fuck uses a toothbrush that isn’t theirs? As you had taken in her party dress which you assumed she had been wearing earlier in the night when she followed Sejun to his room passing you and Byungchan grimacing over Hanses attempt at baking  muffins, covered frame and her makeup smudged eyes, your eyes narrowed in on your toothbrush between her pink stained lips.

“Excuse me, that’s my toothbrush” you said with a grimace on your face as she leaned down to spit the toothpaste that had been sloshing in her mouth into the sink, the white fluid making its way down the drain. “hmm? oh here” was all she replied before placing the toothbrush in your palm. It still had toothpaste on it and it took everything in you to not throw the toothbrush at her and go full on hulk mode.

Then there was the Red head a few days ago that you knew as Cynthia from your shared Calculus class. You had been making dinner for your best friends that had been having a difficult school week. Walking into the apartment with the the bags full of groceries using your key the boys had given you, you set the canvas bags onto the white counter before organizing them into piles of what needed to be made in order from first to last. Pulling together the pots and pans you needed your thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched whine and the sounds of a bed thumping against a wall. Glancing towards the door you saw what appeared to be a woman’s taupe coat. Shaking your head you let out a disgusted ‘gross’ and pulled up your Spotify playlist hoping it would drown out some of the sounds coming from the occupied bedroom.

Throwing the tomatoes and onions into a pan you let them sauté until they were caramelized and got started on putting together the garlic butter for the fresh baked french bread you scored at the grocery store. Grooving to your music, you went along with your chopping of vegetables for the salad followed by dumping a box of penne into the salted water you had prepared. Spreading the herby garlic spread onto the soft doughy bread you plopped it into the oven and checked your pasta.

‘Buss it Buss it Buss it Buss it’ came through the speaker of your phone and you let your body do a little twerk as you plated the penne a la vodka, salad and finally the warm garlic bread fresh from the oven, turning around you checked to make sure everything was turned off and grabbed your phone to check the time. “They should be home soon” you mused and poured yourself a glass of ice water. ’Is you FUCKIN’ yelling the fuckin part you wiggled your hips as you sipped your water and turned around when the sound of crunching put a halt in your boppin.

Your jaw twitched as you took in the Red head leaning against the island counter with a piece of garlic bread between her smeared lipstick covered lips. The smell of roasted garlic and tomato sauce hung in the air as you stepped towards the female eating the food you had just made.

“That food isn’t for you, you do know it’s rude to just eat what someone else had made without asking right?” you furrowed your brows at her and extended a hand towards the rest of what you had plated up. Leaning her head against her left palm she licked her lips clean of what looked like breadcrumbs and smiled. “Aww, were you making a meal for Sejunnie? if so, I can assure you this won’t get him into your pants, not when he has a lady like me right here. But it’s cute that you tried.” Opening your mouth ready to ask her what the literal fuck she was talking about, Cynthia moved her elbow along the counter followed by a ‘oops’ and a shrug of her shoulder.

Looking down at the tray that had skidded across the wooden floor when her elbow knocked down your garlic bread just milliseconds ago you let out an annoyed “are you fucking kidding me?” Looking unaffected, Cynthia shrug her pale pink covered shoulders at you and licked her index finger of what looked like garlic butter. Leaning down with a bend of your knees you started to pile the bread you now had to throw out onto the faux marble tray that balances itself in your left hand. You grit your teeth stopping yourself from saying much else knowing that it wouldn’t do a thing. Knees knocking against the floor as you reached for a piece that had gone under the counter, before you could grasp it between your deep purple nail polished fingers, a pale hand reached out and placed it down onto your tray.

Looking up your eyes met Sejuns light grey contact covered gaze and you shook your head head towards the woman he had just been fucking. “Some company you keep” you mumbled to him before standing up, lavender slipper covered feet coming into contact with the dark wooden floor. As the door clicked open you were met with an enthusiastic“y/n did you cook? your’e the BEST.” Hanse stepped through the threshold of the open plan kitchen and took in the scene. You with a tray of what looked like garlic bread, a furious gaze in your eyes, Sejun with his hand extended towards you and a red head smacking her lips along a napkin.

“Um what happened?” left Hanses lips as you tossed the food that had been in your hand into the trash and got to work looking for the swiffer they kept in a linen closet close to the kitchen. Your ears picked up on what sounded like Sejun saying out a soft yet firm “I called you an uber, they’re here already” followed by a sickeningly sweet “But Sejunnie we could spend more time together.” Rolling your eyes you entered the kitchen once again and wiped the wet wipe along the grease covered floor. “Domestic, cute” Looking up you stepped towards the red haired female ready to throw hands. You were beyond tired of her shit and weren’t going to take anymore. She fucked with food, precious FOOD.

“I told you to leave already” Sejun grabbed Cynthias elbow and guided her towards the front door. “But, ugh fine. Call me later?” she asked and he just shrugged his shoulder while walking her to the elevator.

Angrily throwing the swiffer pad into the trash you thrust the mop to Hanse to put away and bounded to the sink to wash your hands. “I fucking can’t stand people like her, Sejun needs to filter out the bitches from his list of hookups. I swear to god dealing with someone like her is not worth getting your dick wet.” You shouted and Hanse pat your back.

Byungchan’s soft head of hair leaning on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you sighed shaking the thoughts of Sejuns hookups out of your mind to focus on the movie that was almost finished. Looking to your left you smiled softly at the dimpled boys sleeping face. Hanse shifted on you right to pull his blanket closer to his body.

While Hanse was still awake you knew it would be a few minutes before he completely passed out like the sweetheart to your left had. Sitting up carefully you leaned Byungchans head onto a pillow and brought the comforter up his body while Hanse curled into himself mumbling a “you can sleep here or take Channies bed.” Shaking your head you let him know you’d be taking the couch as you tucked the bowl of kernels under your arm and balanced two glasses between your fingers of your fight hand as you maneuvered your way out of his room and to the kitchen. The soft lighting over the stove illuminated your trek to the kitchen and you spotted Sejun in a pair of joggers and an oversized pale blue t shirt sipping a glass of what looked like water.

Moving passed him you dumped the remnants of the kernels into the trash and carefully plopped the dishes into the sink to his right. To your left his eyes followed your movements as you cleaned up. “I’m sleeping on the couch so if you’re going for round two with whatever her name is, please keep it down.” you grumbled without looking at him and you made your way to the couch you had spent many a nights on. From the open kitchen you heard him shift as he placed the glass he had been drinking out of into the sink. “She left already, goodnight y/n” he responded and walked the few steps to his room, his door softly closing behind him and you shut your eyes, pulling the blue blanket that had been on the end of Hanses bed and you had snatched, closer to your body letting sleep overtake your tired brain.

The smell of sizzling bacon and warm butter invading your nostrils sending your senses in an uproar and your body to slowly open your eyes. Sitting up you still clutched the blanket you had been using tight around your body in a makeshift cocoon. Gaze scanning the kitchen behind the couch you were sitting on you watched as Sejun joked with Hanse while preparing the bacon that was sizzling in the pan below him. Hanse was mixing up more pancake batter and Byungchan was finishing a flip on the duo of cakes bubbling up in the pan he had been working with.

You could almost curse your stomach as an obscenely loud grumbled was heard in the open space causing all three boys to turn around and take in your messy bun that more like a turd flopping atop your head and your mascara slightly smudged under your eyes. Raising your left hand into what looked like a small wave you heard Hanse laugh loudly causing you to smile. “The Princess is awake” with a stern look in your eyes his smiled widened “I forgot y/n hates being called Princess, EHEM my queen.” Standing up you stretched your arms over your head and arched your back hearing the muscles pop from lying in the same position for too long.

Trudging towards the bathroom, you abandoned the blanket on the kitchen island on your way there. As you took in in your appearance in the bathroom mirror while you let the water warm you shrugged. Your best friends had seen you look a lot worse.

As you smoothed the foaming cleanser onto your hands and over your face you let out a soft sigh in content. Reaching into the cabinet under the sink you pulled your small body of makeup remover you had stashed there and massaged it onto your eyes to cleanly remove any remnants of eye makeup. Letting the warm water rinse your face of all impurities you got to work on bushing your teeth with your N E W purple toothbrush.

Letting your hair loose from its turd like confines, you softly ran what you knew as Hanses brush over your locks and shuffled back into the kitchen after your bathroom escapades were done with.

Tucking your hair behind your ears you poured yourself a glass of cold OJ and watched as the men finished with their Gordan Ramsey like cosplay of cooking. Giggling to yourself as the visual of Gordan Ramseys face on your friends bodies overtook you.

When you noticed the boys were just about done preparing the food you pulled plates from the cabinet and paired them with silverware for all four persons. A comfortable silence surrounding the room as you all piled your plates with food and made your way to the dining table to the left of the kitchen.

“Thanks for the food” you smiled out while cutting into your fluffy pancakes earning a wide from Hanse, a smile from Byungchan and a nod of your welcome from Sejun. Plopping a piece into your mouth you almost moaned at the warm syrupy goodness that coated your tongue, you could take the vanilla Hanses flavored the cakes with.

For the most part you all had ate in silence with the exception of Sejun and Byungchan talking about the college Basketball team Byungchan was on.

You had offered to do the dishes in repayment for the delicious breakfast the boys had cooked up and joined in on the conversation that took place in the living room when you had finished. Settling yourself on the cushion next to Hanse you let him ruffle your hair and leaned your head on his shoulder.

Hanse was like the brother you never had, you had known him since your first year of college, you small body nervous as all hell when you walked into your first Literature class of the year. Sitting next to you he had struck up a conversation when he took in the crescent moon earring dangling from your double helix piercing on your right ear.

From then on you all had become great friends, you had liked the same music and enjoyed some of the same aesthetics. A couple of months later you all had stumbled upon Byungchan at a frat party and a conversation about Liquor vs Beer ensued in the comfort of the lit kitchen. Before you knew it you all had drug your asses to waffle house for 4am food to nourish your alcohol filled bodies. You both becoming fast friends with the tall teddybear of a man.

A year later and the two men rented an apartment together inspired by the fact that you had been living in an apartment with your roommate since the middle of your freshman year. They had invited you to be their third roommate but you were on a multi-year lease and to be honest, you didn’t mind your roommate. You loved your friends but you liked being able to come home when you needed alone time or just girl time. Lately you had been spending more time at your best friends house due to your roommate having her boyfriend over a lot more before he graduated later this year and you wanted to give them alone time.

Musing to yourself on how grateful you were for their friendship you took in the effortless conversation between all three men. You knew they had been friends with Sejun for sometimes prior to him moving in but you hadn’t really taken in how friendly they were all with each other. You had to admit it put the moving mattress of a man in a new light.

“Favorite Nirvana song..3..2…1.” Hanse blurted out. All together four answers were heard at once “Lithium” you heard Hanse shout which you had already known. “All Apologies” Byungchan smiled and “Come as you are!” you and to your surprise Sejun yelled at once. “oof we have a tie.” Hanse said followed by a “Okay, okay.. Favorite BEYONCE song 3…2…1”

“Wait wait, Beyonce solo or Destinys Child included cause that’s a whole other convo” you added in before anybody could answer before taking a sip of your ice water and roaming your feet into the blanket you had been using. “Solo Beyonce” Hanse answered before shouting his countdown once again.

“Crazy in love OG version” Hanse shouted, “Formation” was Byungchans answer. “Irreplaceable” Sejun answered while tilting his head onto his palm with his elbow resting on the arm of the couch to your left. “If I were a boy” you smiled at the lyrics invading your thoughts. “But seriously Yonce is a fucking icon and you can’t just pick one song, that’s like ILLEGAL!” you added which earned claps from your best friends and a genuine smile from Sejun causing you to cock an eyebrow at his dimples cheeks.

The familiar ding of your phone signaled a text and you entered your password into the drive while vaguely listening to what the three men were talking about. Sending a message in reply to your friend and classmate Haley you tossed your phone back onto the coffee table in front of you and leaned back onto the comfy cushions behind you. “Oh shit y/n I almost forgot! Heo Chan’s frat is having a party tonight and i’m making you come with” The inky haired man to your right said with a clap of his hands, his rings clanking against each other. “Oddly enough that’s what Haley was texting me about and I already agreed to go with her since i’m obviously the best wingman ever. I also love how you weren’t planning on giving me a choice on going.”

“I wasn’t giving you a choice because I knew you couldn’t say no to this face” with a pucker of his pink lips, Hanse folded his fingers under his chin leaning closer to your face in a mock pout. Rolling your eyes you flick his slightly exposed forehead with a painted index finger. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

“Byungchannies going too and I think Sejun may show up too” Hanse added and you nodded. You knew Byungchan would go, with him being good friends with Chan and Seungwoo from Lambda Tau Nu or VTN for short. Sejun going came as no shock to you either knowing the amount of girls that would be wanting him to go with them and of course leave with them as well.

Checking the time on your apple watch linked onto your wrist with its black leather strap, you stood up throwing the blanket that kept your legs warm onto Hanses lap and grabbed your phone while looking for your slippers you had worn there. It was a little passed two in the afternoon and you knew you need to go home, shower and then later prep for the party. “Imma head out to freshen up, see you later. Hanse you picking me up?” with an of course heaving your best friends mouth you left the comfort of the three mens apartment and heading off to your own.

Smoothing your warm vanilla and rose body oil over your freshly shaven legs you checked your phone noting you had a little over an hour to finish getting ready before Hanse and byungchan would be pounding on your door. You had just finished pulling your black satin bra and panty set when your doorbell sounded off. Wrapping your fluffy white robe close to your body you opened the door to a smiling Haley who was carrying what you presumed to be her “getting ready shit” and a bottle of Svedka.

“Pre game sweets” she said when she caught you glancing down to the bottle clutched between her fingers. With a slight smile and a shake of your head, you both headed towards your room to finish getting ready.

Checking her ass in the mirror, Haley gave a little booty jiggle in her skin tight taupe body con dress that accentuated her deep mocha colored skin. You had just finished styling your straight hair with some silkening gloss when Hanses called signaling them leaving their apartment and heading towards yours. Sliding your feet into your black suede high heeled ankle booties you smacked your medium toned nude lipstick covered lips and followed Haley into the kitchen.

When the boys got there Haley demanded a pre game shot and you all but obliged. With a slam of the clear shot glass onto the faux marble counter you all headed out, following Hanse to his small Silver SUV.

Pulling up to the long street of parked cars in front of the VTN house you shook your head at the seemingly already drunk couples making out in the bushes and a half naked guy running down the lawn with a V painted onto his chest in what looked like red lipstick.

Entering through the oak double doors behind Byungchan you squeezed his shoulder as he maneuvered you all through the crowded entrance. Settling on a quieter side of what you knew from a few parties here as the living room, Byungchan excused himself to bring you all some drinks and you surveyed the area you were in. A couple of kegs were a few feet to your left where some guy you recognized as Subin was performing a keg stand. The two couches and coffee table were pushed closer near a wall where the stairs leading to the second floor bedrooms was to make the makeshift dance floor where bodies were rhythmically shaking the hips. Behind you to your right was the brightly lit kitchen when bottles lined the counters and bags of chips were strewn everywhere.

As you surveyed the kitchen you noticed Byungchan talking to a girl you knew as Emi. Byunchans dimples were on full display as he laughed at whatever she had been saying causing a soft bloom of rose to flush onto her pale cheeks. Leaning down to stir her drink her light brown hair fell slightly over her face to which Byungchan leaned forward and swiped his fingers over her forehead and still blushing cheeks to tuck her shoulder length hair behind her right ear. Noticing your gaze, Hanse chimed in “Oooooooh is Channie finally making a move on Emi? He’s been into her for like a month now” Whipping your hair around towards the tattooed man your deep brown smokey eyeshadow covered eyes widened slightly.

“He what now? How did I not know about this?” Hanse furrowed his eyebrow at your seemingly upset look and Haley cleared her throat. Haley had been the only person who knew about your crush on your friend from a night of one too many Vodka Tonics and Tequila shots. “I only knew about it cause I caught him shooting her google eyes and I asked him what was up until he fessed up.. why do you look? wait..y/n did you?” With a tick of your jaw you shook you head pleading with him not to continue his question.

“Since when?” was all he asked and you softly told him the answer. “But it’s fine, I honestly didn’t think much would come from it. I wasn’t sure how our friendship and the dynamic would work if we ever got together” You ran your thumb along the hem of your black and deep green plaid skirt. “It’s for the best, I’m glad he looks happy.” you were being honest, you wanted your friends to be happy and that’s all that had mattered to you. Yes you were a little heart broken but it was better than him finding out about your crush and you getting rejected then, or you all getting together then later breaking up and you losing one of your best friends and Hanse being stuck in the middle of his two best friends.

With an are you sure? Hanse headed off to the kitchen when you nodded your head and sighed. “God you’re such a good person babe, I would’ve been like ‘HELL NO IM NOT OKAY I AM A HEARTBROKEN WOMAN ON THE VERGE OF A MELTDOWN’” Haley whisper screamed into your ear and you felt yourself smiling at her over dramatic theater kid self.

“Ugh Chan looks so good” biting her deep fuchsia colored lips Haley wiggled her eyebrows and you shook your head. You knew she was staring at his ass in those tight light wash jeans as he talked to Hanse and Byingchan in the kitchen.

“Oh shit he’s coming over here” Fluffing her black shoulder length curled hair Haley pushed her boobs out by straitening her back causing you to giggle and accept the drink Hanse handed you. “Hey Haley hey y/n” Chan smiled causing adorable dimples to grace his cheeks. ‘Do all these men have dimples or what?’ you thought and shook your head slightly.

With a hello and a thank you for invited us you let Haley grab all of Chans attention with a conversation about Musicals. Hanse caught on to what you were doing and stepped further away from the two, taking you with him.

You had been talking to Hanse about Haley and Chan when Byungchan stepped in front of you both with Emi right behind him. “Hey guys, this is Emi” Hanse smiled and gave her a little wave. Suppressing your urge to be jealous and petty you took a deep breath and nodded towards her “Hi” leaving your lips. As Byunghcan talked to you both about how sweet Emi was and how they had been talking but it hadn’t been anything serious, you gripped your glass in your right hand and tilted your head back drinking all of its contents in one go. The familiar warm burn of alcohol siding down your throat and distracting you from Byuns dimples as he spoke so highly of the female clutching onto his right arm.

Taking in the girls pale blue satin liken dress and beige sweater handing off of her arms you had to admit she seemed nice, very demure and soft spoken but nice. “You’re so pretty, Byungchan didn’t do you justice when he told me about his best friends” Emi genuinely smiled at you and you thanked her. Needing a refill of your drink you excused yourself and headed towards the kitchen.

Setting your glass on the counter you got to work mixing Rum and a splash of coke. Taking your first sip you nodded and hummed at the taste. If you were going to deal with your crush and best friend finding a girlfriend you definitely needed something strong. Taking another sip you leaned your hip against the counters and slowly moved your head in a circle to relieve the tension you had been building up. You felt your body starting to heat up from the amount of bodies in the house and the alcohol flowing freely through your veins as you finished your second drink with a long chug.

Shrugging your oversized medium blue denim jacket off of your shoulder you looked for a suitable place to hide it from partygoers. Situating your jacket behind bottles of soap under the sink you made a note on your phone letting you know where you hide it in case you forgot and needed to retrieve it the next day.

Pouring yourself another drink you capped the Rum when you were done and sighed as the breeze from the overhead vent licked against your skin in your black crop top and plaid skirt. “Damn, now that’s a drink” came from your left causing your to look up with an arch of one of your eyebrows. Liam Martinez stood in front of you with a smile of his pearly whites and you couldn’t help but smile back. You recognized the Wide Receiver of your college football as you shared a literary course with him. You actually also shared that class with Sejun as well.

“Want one?” you asked with a smile to which he shifted closer to you and handed you his red cup. “Yes ma’am” you opened the same bottle you had been using and started pouring it into his glass, followed by a splash of the open coke to your right. Scooping a bit of ice from the bag in the sink into his glass you handed it back to him which he accepted gratefully.

“So, what’re you doing here? or better question, why are you drinking alone in a kitchen full of bottles?” Leaning your hip against the counter you quirked you lip slightly over you glass. “Well if anybody was drinking wouldn’t it be better to drink in a room full of bottles?” Chuckling at your retort Liam placed a hand on the counter and sipped his drink waiting for you to continue. “But if you must know, I finished my drink my friend made me and came to make another, plus they were having a convo I didn’t really feel like being a part of” you let the last bit slip out with a shrug of your shoulders.

With a ‘hmm’ in acknowledgment you two started a pretty nice conversation about your shared class and the frat house you were currently in which Liam had been a part of. Feeling the buzz flowing through your body you accepted his offer when he asked you to dance.

With your hand tucked into his you made your way to the dance floor and wrapped your arms around his neck as the music thumped around you. Settling his hands on your hips he pulled you closer to him, swaying your bodies to rhythm of the bass. Under the soft lights in the dark living room Liams light brown hair shined. Liams hands trailed up and down your hips, eventually turning you around pulling your back into his white t shirt and blue plaid covered chest feeling his muscles rippling against your back.

Leaning your head back onto his chest you ground your hips back into his and smirked. The alcohol coursing through your veins lending confidence to your dance moves as your began to grind with him in the middle of the other swaying dance partners crowding the space.

Another song came to a finish and you felt your body heating up tremendously. With a huff of air escaping your parted semi glossy lips, you knew you needed water and as Liams fingers grazed up your left thigh you excused yourself telling him you’d be right back but he had insisted on going with you.

Reaching the kitchen you looked for a clean empty cup to be the vessel that you needed to quench your thirst and hopefully cool your body down. Liam handed you an opaque red cup from the stack of downturned cups and you poured yourself some water from the fridge and took a long sip relishing in the fresh cool liquid cooling your body down and causing a small shiver.

“Hey can you pass me a coke from the fridge?” The taller man in font of you asked as you were closer to the fridge than he was and you nodded thinking nothing of it. Opening the metal fridge you looked around on the middle shelf before your eyes landed on the signature red cans, plucking one from the shelf you turned and stepped your way back to Liam, handing it to him which caused him to smile his pearly whites in return.

“Hold on, did he just drop something in y/ns glass?” Hanse voiced out while putting a black nail polished hand up in a stop motion after his eyes had zeroed in on the man in question drop something that looked like a small white circular pill into your drink. Earlier in the night Sejun had been talking to Hanse when they both noticed you dancing with Liam, he couldn’t quite place where he knew him from but after Hanse voiced what he had just seen, he remembered a girl he had hooked up with a couple of weeks ago said that after she had hooked up with Liam about a week prior. She had been looking for her shorts and found what looked like roofies on the floor in a bag under his bed. Sejun had asked why she didn’t report him to which she just shrugged and said Liam hadn’t done anything to her and she wasn’t sure that’s what they were so she wasn’t going to start trouble.

With a narrow of his eyes he peeled Tashas hand from around his torso and bounded off into the kitchen following Hanses fast steps towards your figure holding a red cup smiling up towards the tall figure in front of you.

——————————————

ANNNND chapter 1 is done! I’m going to try to update this pic every week but i can’t make any promises as i’m also writing a Jungkook Magic/au fic series.

I hope you enjoyed the read and pls let me know of any errors you come across as this is partially unedited and i don’t have a Beta reader or anything of the sort. ILY

-C/Potittiess

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

gotta say I’m particularly pleased with Loki using magic fireworks to show off, because I literally put that in the Steve/Loki fic I wrote for @veliseraptor​ a few years ago, where they sort of grow up together as childhood friends because of handwavey time-travel shenanigans:

Loki shrugs, looking down. After a moment he says, “We Aesir live such long lives that we mark such events differently as we age, or at least that is the common practice. Young children’s birthdays are celebrated every year; later, perhaps the day is marked in small ways but is truly celebrated once each decade, or once per century for adults and those nearing adulthood. I am approaching that age myself, so it is not as though I expect a regular, lavish celebration or anything of that sort. It is only…”

“Thor gets a bigger party?” Steve guesses.

“A feast of some kind, most years,” Loki says, his voice flat. “It is good for our warriors’ morale, you see. When he turned 750, the festivities lasted nearly a fortnight, and he was gifted with Mjolnir, a weapon of great power. So I thought…well.”

“Yesterday was your 750th too,” Steve says (it still feels unreal to him to measure someone’s lifespan with numbers that high, but when he does the math in his head, he’s pretty sure that’s about equivalent to 15, so basically Steve’s age).

Loki looks down again and nods. “In truth, I am not sure anyone remembered this year was anything out of the ordinary.”

Steve and his mom have never had much, but she’s always managed to make Christmas and his birthday special in some small way, taking extra shifts to afford an art book for him or ingredients for a cake. He’s been a little jealous sometimes of the stuff other kids’ parents can afford, but he’s never, ever felt forgotten. In every other way, Loki’s so much richer that Steve can barely comprehend it, but—

“Well,” he says, “I can’t throw you a feast, but I can take you to Coney Island for ice cream or something.”

“Ice cream,” Loki says.

“Yeah, haven’t you—no, of course you haven’t had ice cream, that’s my fault. I don’t really want to spend money on the rides right now, but just walking around is fun, and I can at least do ice cream.”

“I would like that,” Loki admits.

***

“Here we go, this vendor doesn’t charge extra for toppings.”

Loki balks again when Steve pulls out his wallet. “You needn’t, truly.”

“I know,” Steve says. “But it’s your birthday, and I want to.” He buys them both double-scoop cones with chocolate sauce and hands one to Loki as they head down the boardwalk. “Careful, it’ll melt and start dripping if you don’t eat it fast enough. Uh, but don’t eat it too fast or you’ll get a headache. You just lick it.”

Loki smiles sidelong at him, looking faintly amused. “I think I can manage.” He licks at the ice cream once, delicately, and then his eyes widen a little and he returns to it with a lot more enthusiasm.

“I guess you like it,” Steve says, grinning.

“This is good. I wonder if the cooks at home could make something similar.” He catches a drip running down the side of the cone. “How is it made?”

“No idea. I bet we could look it up somewhere, though. I think it’s milk, ice, and sugar, mostly.”

“Mm.” Loki’s almost reached the cone already—maybe Asgardians just don’t get ice cream headaches—and is finally slowing down. “Well, if you can find me a recipe, I will see what can be done.” He neatly sidesteps a child running between them and smiles at Steve in a way that makes his heartbeat pick up. “Thank you, my friend.”

Steve ducks his head. “Glad you like it.” His own ice cream is starting to melt, and taking care of that keeps him occupied for a few minutes. Then Loki hops up to sit on the boardwalk railing, facing the beach and the water. Steve scrambles up next to him a lot less gracefully, but he manages, and for a little while they just watch the boats and beachgoers, with the Wonder Wheel standing sentinel overhead.

“When is your birthday?” Loki asks.

“July 4, actually. Just a couple months away now. There’s always…” His lips twitch. “My mom used to say the fireworks were just for me, like the city was wishing me a happy birthday too.”

“I am afraid this is another custom with which I am unfamiliar.”

“Right, yeah, of course. July 4 is America’s independence day, since back in—well, actually, that’s not important. Everybody celebrates with fireworks, they’re like colorful little explosions, and we don’t have a great view but my mom started taking me up to the roof to see better.” Steve laughs a little. “I think she felt bad after a while for telling me the fireworks were for me, but I’d already figured it out, and honestly I didn’t mind. I’m nobody special, I know the city’s not going to celebrate me, but it’s still nice feeling like everyone’s celebrating with me.”

“Well,” Loki says, “to your assertion that you are ‘nobody special,’ I would be inclined to point out that you are almost certainly the only living human to count a prince of Asgard as a friend. Which…focuses on me rather more than I intended.”

Steve snorts. “That was pretty much luck anyway, right? You could’ve stumbled across anybody.”

“True enough. But I met you instead, and I am glad of it. If either of us has cause to be grateful for that luck, I think it would be me.” He darts a glance toward Steve and then away, studying the shoreline, and Steve is suddenly struck by how beautiful Loki is. He’s noticed before, but not quite like this, with the breeze ruffling Loki’s hair and the sun highlighting those fine, sharp features Steve is always itching to draw. He doesn’t just want to draw Loki now, though; mostly he’s wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

***

The next time Steve sees him, it’s slightly more than two months later and he’s sitting on the roof sketching the skyline when Loki pops into existence next to him. He’s doing a terrible job of trying to hide a self-satisfied grin, so whatever his latest prank was, it must have gone well. Before he can ask, Loki says, “Your birthday is soon, yes?”

“Last week, actually.”

“Damn. I’d hoped to find you on the day itself, but—well, nothing for it now. I wanted…” He reaches into a satchel, hesitates, and pulls out a small wooden box. “I brought you a gift. A small thing, but—I hope you like it.”

Steve sets his sketchbook aside and takes the box, intrigued. The top opens on a hinge; inside, cradled in a nest of straw, is a black crystal ball about the size of Steve’s two fists, with a polished wooden base. When he pulls it out, flecks of color glint across its surface wherever the sun hits it. It’s pretty, but he can’t think why Loki would give him a fancy paperweight, and he’s not sure how to ask without sounding ungrateful.

“Put your hand on the sphere,” Loki says, his voice still full of suppressed excitement, “and think of your fireworks.”

Steve does. A tiny spark of light shoots up from the base of the globe and bursts under his fingers, then another and another, red and blue and gold and green, spiraling downward and fading out before exploding again, and his confusion turns to wonder as he stares at it. It’s like a snow globe but it’s full of little fireworks instead, fireworks that look just like the real thing in silent, miniature form. He turns it in his hand and the lights follow the motion, sinking back to and shooting out from what’s now the bottom, in spirals and spiders and starbursts.

“Fireworks in a jar,” Steve says. “This is incredible.”

Loki grins. “It is, isn’t it? I didn’t make the globe, of course, I bought that, but the enchantment is mine, built from scratch.”

Steve turns the globe again, marveling at the tiny little world in his hands. “I thought you didn’t know what fireworks were?”

“As it happens, they are a very old invention—as Midgard marks time, anyway—so I was able to observe some myself at a celebration of some kind in China, and I replicated those. So…now you have fireworks that really are just for you.”

The globe is slightly warm against his palms, and Steve closes his hands over it. “This is—way better than anything I gave you.”

Loki looks at him with a crooked smile. “I suppose that is a matter of perspective.”

I mean, I guess I was wrong about fireworks not being a thing on Asgard, but still, it’s fun. :)

[tabbycasto]

Nail Tech Talk : Top Tips For Setting Up In An Unconventional Space

Setting up can be a little daunting when you first start out, but it doesn’t take long to start building your collection & creating a space that you're happy with. When I started to set up my treatment room, I began by creating a mood board to figure out the aesthetics & practicality of the room. I love to use Pinterest to get my visual ideas out and have mood boards for things like Storage Ideas, Pedicure Set Up and design inspo.

Once you’ve figured out the style you're after you can start to figure out how to make it come to life. Everything takes time and you’ll find sometimes it’s not until you’ve actively worked in a space that you can truly see what you need to change & adjust to make the space really work best for you. It's a work in progress that grows with you as you develop new skills. Don't feel that everything has to be done at once.

My Treatment Room aesthetic is kitsch, plant adorned & bright. I try to keep things fun, but tidy and cozy for clients. I’m not a "normal salon space", but that’s one of the reasons my clients like to come to me. I don’t try to make the room do something it can’t do, I just work with what I can.

Storage

Storage is really important, especially as it can actually save you time if you keep yourself well organized. I really love easy access storage so that I can grab things quickly and not waste time looking around for products.

Nail Polish/ Gel Polish Storage 

I originally started out with both the long and short Ikea Alex drawers. These are great if you are just starting out and don't have too much product as they provide a lot of storage space, but if you are like me and tend to have a lot of product (I do makeup as well as nails), I’d recommend going for better quality drawers with more side supports than Ikea. My Alex drawers lasted about 3 years before I had to replace them with a similar Tallboy Style Drawer which I found on sale at La Redoute. My advice would be to spend a little extra on furniture if you can so that you don't have to replace it in future.

Ikea Picture Shelves are also a great way to display polish/gel colours on your walls, but they will need dusting regularly which is why I prefer to use the tallboy style drawers. I tend to use the Picture Shelves to create a "gallery wall" where I display framed art and photos, but these would be great for displaying certifications and awards as well.

Glitter/Diamonte/Dried Flower Storage

I invested some time decanting all my glitters, diamantés and dried nail art flowers into clear acrylic lidded jars which sit in clear boxes (labelled on the bottom) so I can showcase colours more easily to clients rather than rummaging through boxes. Clear Acrylic storage is great as you can see when things are running low and need topping up. I tend to separate these into colour sections keeping like colours together. Ebay, Amazon, Hobby Craft & Muji are great for finding these kind of clear acrylic storage solutions.

Wire Storage

I keep wires under control with a wire tidy box also from Ikea to reduce tripping hazards and keep the room looking tidy. As I do a lot of filming in the room, I do have quite a few different wires for various things, anything that doesn't fit into the Ikea Wire Tidy, when not in use, gets stored in Ikea Rattan/Wicker Storage Boxes and slotted away in my Ikea Kallax. I label the different plugs with a Dymo Label Machine so I don't get things confused. 

How To Display Your Nail Art Professionally

I love nail art and have a lot of nail tips left over from content creating and old Pop Up Nail Bar menus. I was looking for a way to showcase these to clients and discovered a really cool Nail Art Display Box on Ebay which looks very professional. You can change the display every season or theme each clear pull out frame to your liking. With so many ideas and options available this is a great way to break it down visually for customers. Here is a break down on how to start yours (links to where to find it are in the description box) :

https://youtu.be/F5Yzousncqg

Pedicure Set Up

I recently started offering pedicures again and needed to create a cozy pedicure space that could easily be put away when not in use.  As I don’t have laminate flooring, I had a custom size floor matte made to protect my rug and carpet area from splashes and mess  by https://www.floormats.co.uk . When not in use, this slots away under a sofa and easily pulls out when I need it again. It's also easy to wipe down and keep disinfected.

Instead of using a storage trolly to display Pedicure Products (as my room is carpeted which wouldn’t be practical), I keep my bottles and sprays on trays on top of a wooden stool. I have 2 different trays which I alternate with the two systems I use, Footlogix & Famous Names Releaf. * Nail techs use my discount code TABBY10 for 10% off these brands and more on the Louella Belle site.

I purchased  my concrete pink/white tray to display my Footlogix products from Etsy Seller JustSoDesignbyRachel (https://etsy.me/37c1csl ) who had to adapt when first lockdown hit & set up a shop selling hand made beautiful concrete items. Where I can, I love to shop with and support smaller businesses & fellow nail artists.

To display my Famous Names Releaf I went for a more rustic looking tray from Dunelm which suits the natural ethos of the system : https://www.dunelm.com/product/wooden-tray-craftland-1000167605?defaultSkuId=30696657

For a leg rest/foot rest, I use a foldable stool from Amazon with customised vinyl material that can be disinfected. I found out about the stool from a fellow nail tech on the Footlogix Facebook Group ! The vinyl I reupholstered the stool with came from Etsy Shop HomeTexStudio (https://etsy.me/2JJlRsb). The height is just right for my set up, not for everyone I’m sure , but for the space I work with it’s perfect. Here’s a video of the DIY stool transformation :

https://www.instagram.com/tv/CHGFgx6D6EY/?utm_medium=copy_link

I use Belava Pedi Bowls with recyclable disposable liners for my pedicures as I love glitter & they really go with my room's aesthetic! I think customers also feel much better knowing each time they visit they get a fresh pedi liner. The Belava Glitter bowls do come with a disinfectable insert, but I prefer to use the disposables as I feel it reassures customers that my hygiene standards go above and beyond, especially in these times.

I use an IKEA rattan stool to sit on when doing pedicures and my clients sit on a large sofa chair which allows them to really relax and decompress. After each client, I disinfected the soft furnishing with Sursol Fabric Disinfecting Spray as removing all soft furnishings was not an option for me.

Retail Items

As my set up has less surface space than a traditional salon space, I show off the products I retail on my shorter Ikea Alex Drawers & Ikea Kallax shelves. I try to keep displays and clutter to a minimum as every surface gets wiped down and disinfected before/after each client. In keeping with the aesthetics of my room, I display my products in small wooden boxes and clear acrylic shelves.

The Work Table

My work table is the area of my room that gets the most use. I use it as a work space for not just my nail clients, but also to film and create nail tutorials and content. Unlike many techs, my work table is a little wider than usual which is not for everyone, but works well for me. I have the Ikea Nordan Gateleg Table which has 6 storage drawers down the middle and two sides which can fold down. I use the Clear Ikea Skvallra Desk Protector to keep it free of any accidents and spills. To add a little personality to the space I alternate Paperchase Wrapping Paper which I find very fun and colourful under the Desk Protector, these make great backdrops for nail art photos as well. To get the best out of my nail art photos I use the Ikea Tertial Lamp with a Day Light bulb which I find works well as a work lamp and for photography purposes.

I keep my tools tidy with a custom made Jesmonite tray which I had commissioned by a fellow nail tech ( @bylaurajayne_jesmonitedesigns). It matches my room aesthetic and keeps things nice and tidy when I'm working. I tend to sterilize my tools in my Enbio Auto Clave and then place them on my tray ready for use! If you haven't seen her trays do check them out ! They are the perfect size for nail techs as she makes both rectangle long trays and smaller square trays so there is plenty of room for everything. I think displaying nail tools on the work table like this also gives the tools a bit of respect and helps you to look after them, after all they are probably your most used items and I think it's nice to look after them well so it's just fitting to display them proudly and with a bit of care and thought!

I recently purchased a new hand rest from @gb.wrist.rests. This has been a real game changer as it definitely improves the posture for both myself and my clients when working. Previous to this I had been using an Ikea Wooden laptop holder, which worked well for a couple of years, but over time the disinfectant began to wear down the varnish and I felt it was time to invest in something better. It was also great to support another fellow nail tech who started the GB Wrist Rests business up with her partner during lockdown.

Dust Control

To control dust, I have the Zephyros Dust Collection from Tafs. I find this works really well for keeping the space tidy and protecting mine and my clients lungs. I tend to work more with soak off systems and don't currently e-file so this works well for me. I would recommend getting a more powerful Air Purifier for busier salons working more regularly with enhancements.

Sterilisation

In the corner of my room I store my Enbio S Auto Clave which is used to sterilize tools after they have been washed, then disinfected. I store this on an Ikea Alex Cupboard which doubles up as a storage space for all my cleaning products and spare nail files etc. The Auto Claves are not cheap, but one of the best investments in my Treatment Room. I think customers feel more reassured and I certainly feel better using one. Nail techs can use my code TABBY to get money off their purchases at https://www.enbio.com/uk/

My greatest advice for anyone new to the industry or just starting to set up would be take it a bit at a time. We all have to work within budgets and as you gain clients and get busier you will be able to afford to work your way up towards a space that suits you. I spent many years working as a mobile freelancer before building up a client base that comes to me. It's also worth noting that your own health and client health is so important. Consider the comfort of both of you when creating your space - make sure you are looking after skin and lungs. Protect your hands with gloves when you work to avoid over exposure and make sure you  protecting your lungs from dust particles, but most of all have fun creating a space that suits you!