#sorry for the inconsistency these were drawn like a week apart

[itemprograms]

More gurlies gijnkafied 👍 pie was probably the hardest one next to barf bag lel

[superblizzardfire]

The Surprise Gift (Bruce & Kamala)

(AO3 Link)

Kamala wasn’t expecting any presents for her seventeenth birthday. But the universe gave her a surprise one anyway…

‘Food poisoning,’ she gasped, shaking as she knelt over the toilet. ‘Figures.’

‘I suspect the pre-packaged egg mayonnaise sandwiches were to blame, Miss Khan,’ said JARVIS.

‘Yeah, I thought they tasted funny.’ She’d woken up feeling nauseous, taken one sip of water and immediately dashed to the bathroom to throw up. Now she gripped the cold metal of the bowl and unleashed a second wave, the burning in her throat bringing tears to her eyes. It was her own fault. But supply runs were inconsistent, and they had to eat when they could.

On the plus side, at least she was throwing up in a bathroom on the Chimera, the iconic helicarrier that was once home to the Avengers (and now housed only one).

‘Shall I inform Doctor Banner?’ asked JARVIS.

‘No! God no, I don’t want him to see me like this!’ Sweat-soaked hair and vomit-stained Captain America pyjamas. Not a good look, and she’d already embarrassed herself in front of one of her childhood heroes this week. She’d been singing along to Cheap Thrills in her room, not realising that she was broadcasting herself through the whole ship. She hadn’t been able to meet Bruce's eye for the rest of the day.

For the last three weeks, they’d been searching for Tony Stark. JARVIS kept bringing up false leads, so they travelled from country to country, flying out in the Quinjet for supply runs and reconnaissance missions. It sounded like something from Kamala’s most self-indulgent fanfics: a secret mission where she and Doctor Banner set out to reassemble the Avengers, five years after they were split apart. It was literally the coolest thing that had ever happened to her… except it wasn’t turning out to be as fun as she’d hoped.

When she’d vomited up what felt like everything she had, Kamala clambered up and flushed away the eggy mess before rinsing out her mouth. The Chimera wasn’t fully operational yet: no hot water, and everything was filmed with dust. She stared at herself in the mirror, panting. Yup, she looked like an absolute mess. On her birthday. This sucked.

‘Uh, hey Kamala? Are you up?’ Bruce's voice echoed through the room.

Crap. ‘Morning, Bruce!’ she said brightly, then shut her eyes tightly as the room seemed to spin around her. ‘What’s up?’

‘I’m just running a few tests on those energy weapons we found. I could use a hand, if you’ve got a minute?’ Bruce always seemed to think he was being a bother. He could make “pass the salt” sound like he was asking a huge favour. ‘Only if you’re not busy.’

‘Sure thing,’ she gasped. ‘I’ll be right – oh god – ‘ She lurched back to the toilet as another wave of nausea swept over her. With nothing left to bring up, her stomach clenched painfully.

‘Are you okay? Kamala?’

But she couldn’t reply. Her breath came in harsh sobs through gritted teeth. She was trying so hard to do her job here, to help Bruce find the Avengers and to hold her own in the fighting. But she didn’t feel like an adult. She felt like a scared kid in disguise. And now she felt like death, it was difficult to maintain that charade.

The beep of the door unlocking was the only warning she got before Bruce ran into the room. ‘What happened? Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, it’s just food poisoning. I’ll be down in a minute, I promise.’ She squinted up at him. Bruce wore his usual purple shirt and pants (Hulk had ruined at least five of those shirts, how many did he have?) with his glasses perched on the end of his nose. His arms were folded as he stared down at her in concern.

He sighed. ‘I told you not to eat the egg sandwiches.’

‘You ate them just fine.’

‘Well, I’m immune to food poisoning. You’re not. And you’re not coming down to the lab, okay? You need to rest.’ He spoke gently, but she still felt she’d let him down somehow. ‘Take the day off.’

They couldn’t afford to take days off. They needed to find Tony. Now because of her they’d be behind. Black Widow would have been stronger than this. Anyone other than Kamala would be stronger than this. But she felt so awful that she just said in a small voice, ‘Okay.’

‘Okay,’ Bruce echoed. Then he started backing out of the door. ‘I’m just gonna go… do some things. Can I um, get you anything? Bring you anything?’

Kamala burst into tears.

‘Hey, it’s gonna be okay.’ Bruce crossed the room and knelt beside her, all awkwardness momentarily forgotten.

‘I’m sorry, it’s just – so hard sometimes,’ she sobbed. ‘I want to go home and see my family and just have a normal life, and I know I can’t because we have a job to do and – ‘

‘You’re allowed to want those things. You’re only human.’

Except she wasn’t, was she? Not quite. She was a human with superpowers, and that meant she had a responsibility to protect others. But right now she wasn’t sure she could even protect herself. The tears kept coming, and her chest shuddered with uneven breaths. She wanted to curl up on the cold bathroom floor and pass out.

She swayed, and Bruce held her shoulder to steady her. ‘You’re going to burn yourself out. No one can be on top form all the time. I’m pretty useless for days after Hulking out, and you don’t judge me for it. I think you’re allowed to have a bad day.’

Kamala leaned forward and hid her face in his shoulder. He stiffened in surprise, then hesitantly wrapped his arms around her in a hug. ‘It’s my birthday,’ she sniffled.

‘Today? Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Didn’t want it to be a big deal. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.’ She closed her eyes, knowing that her forehead would feel hot against his shoulder.

Bruce's low, gentle voice rumbled in her ear. ‘Okay. You’re going to stay here and get some rest, doctor’s orders. JARVIS can keep an eye on you. Can you stand?’

She could, but leaned heavily on him as he helped her walk back to bed. ‘Sorry I got sick on your shirt,’ she mumbled.

‘I’ve got plenty of spares, don’t worry.’ He brought her a cup of water and an empty bucket from the pile in the corner of the room. ‘Call me if you need anything, okay?’

‘Thanks, Bruce.’ She lay down and drew the blankets over herself. Bruce lingered a few moments longer, clearly searching for something else to say, then awkwardly edged out of the room. Kamala gazed out of the window until she fell asleep.

When she woke up, it was afternoon. Her head hurt and her mouth tasted awful, but the nausea seemed to have passed. She checked her phone and found birthday messages from family and friends, which raised her spirits a little. When she reached for the water beside the bed, there was a packet of plain crackers and some ibuprofen there too. Bruce must have returned to check on her.

Then Kamala spotted the parcel at the foot of the bed.

A slow smile grew on her face as she picked it up. It was thick and rectangular, and wrapped in thin graph paper from the lab. An effort had been made to liven it up with stars drawn in blue and red ballpoint pen.

She unwrapped it slowly. It was a thick, spiralbound notebook. The edges of the paper had been coloured neon blue (presumably using a salvaged highlighter), and the front cover had been replaced with a homemade one: a printed photograph from five years ago. A smiling Kamala posed with the Avengers whilst coloured streamers fell around them. It was one of the best memories of her life, and despite the events that had occurred after it, the sight still made her smile. ‘Thanks, Bruce,’ she whispered.

When she turned to the first page, there was a message written in small, neat script:

 Happy Birthday Kamala! I hope this comes in useful. You’re an amazing writer, don’t forget how far you’ve come.

Bruce

 Writing had always been Kamala’s passion, although since they’d embarked on their Avengers quest she hadn’t given it much thought. She certainly hadn’t entertained any fanfiction ideas; it felt weirder to write it when you knew the characters you were writing about. Maybe she could try something new, though.

She dug out a pen from her bag. Even the simple weight of a notebook in her lap brought her a comforting familiarity. That even aboard the Chimera, far from home, she could slip away into a world of her choosing. No bad guys to fight or buildings to destroy. Just the simple act of creating something for the fun of it.

Kamala clicked her pen, snuggled down under the covers, and began to write.

[myaekingheart]

The Hazards of Love

Part 1: The Prelude

@naruto-fantasy-week Day 1: Witches + Familiars / Soul Bonds [Kakashi Hatake x Rei Natsuki (OC)] Sometimes fate has a funny way of bringing people together. And sometimes Mother Nature has a funny way of ripping them apart. [Inspired by the Hazards of Love by The Decemberists] read on AO3

               It was dusk when Rei departed, the sky a watercolor portrait overhead. The young woman, with red hair haphazardly tied back, rode down mossy pathways upon a large, white horse. It was in these moments that she felt the most free, as if the woods were expanding her lung capacity and finally allowing her to fully, unapologetically breathe. She, bred for battle, the little assassin, Rei Natsuki. She gripped her horse’s mane tightly as they weaved between towering trees, her heart pounding in sync with his hooves. If only she could melt into the forest floor, become one with the wilds, liberated from the strict convention of her career.

               Amid her daydreams, her grip on Toshio’s mane had loosened and so when a white flash of something startled the steed, she flew off his back and effectively slammed into the dirt. Rei spluttered into the crook of her neck as she tried to catch her breath, glaring at her horse. “What the fuck?!” she called to him, pushing the long bangs back out of her face. Toshio stamped his feet and shook his head, nostrils flaring. In the near distance, crumpled at the base of a large tree, lay a mass of white fur.

               Rei was, at first, understandably cautious. The wolves were vicious in these parts and she knew better than to apprehend a dangerous animal. Her curiosity, however, overpowered her logic. With sword drawn, she inched ever so slowly nearer, praying for the woods to keep still so as not to startle him. And then she saw it: blood.

               The wolf’s chest rose and fell tumultuously, his mismatched eyes searching this way and that. His right was naturally dark and ominous but his left shone red, bright as the blood on his flank, with a nasty scar straight down the center. He growled softly as he watched Rei approach.

               “I’m not going to hurt you” she murmured. “I just want to help.” When it was clear he had finally at least tolerated her presence, she sheathed her sword and knelt down beside him. The wound was deep and intense but had not severed any important ligaments. The outlook, should he let her treat him, was bright.

               The wolf watched with a wild, alert gaze as she pulled a flask of water from the belt at her hip. She popped the cork and poured the cool liquid all over the wound, a stream of diluted blood rushing into the dirt. Then, grabbing her dagger, she sliced away a strip of cloth from her skirt and began to bandage him up.

               He snapped his jaws at her as she wrapped his leg, but she did not flinch. “I know it hurts!” she fired back at him. “But it has to be done. It’ll only take a minute, so suck it up.” A confused expression flitted across his face before he ultimately accepted his fate. Once she was finished, she stood back and motioned for him to get up. “Make sure you can walk on it” she insisted. The minute the words fell from her lips, however, she felt stupid and childish. There was no way a dumb wolf would understand her human commands. And yet somehow, he did. She watched him rise slowly, testing his back leg with a strange sense of concentration. When he had grown more comfortable and agile, she knelt down to begin gathering up her supplies. As she did so, a heavy shadow suddenly stretched over her, growing with every second. Her hands grew unsteady, and then she heard it.

               “Thank you.”

               A man’s voice. Rei’s heart leapt into her throat as she slowly lifted her gaze. The wolf had disappeared. Standing before her now was a human man.

               Rei whipped her dagger out and stumbled backward, narrowing her eyes at the stranger. “Come any closer and I’ll hang you from that branch by your intestines!” she threatened. He recoiled, his mismatched eyes widening. She studied his every move, every feature. If she was to die right here—or worse—she at least wanted to thoroughly recognize her assailant.

               First and foremost, he was attractive. Frustratingly so. His silver hair fell into his eyes and stuck up in all directions, wild and unkempt. Second was that he was naked. Completely and utterly naked. And in his nakedness, she could not help but notice he was also lean and fit. Her cheeks burned at the mere sight of him.

               “What business do you have wandering around the woods like that, anyway?” she asked, dropping her eyes. “If you’re looking to take advantage of innocent girls, you’ve targeted the wrong person.”

               The man blushed, clearly embarrassed by his own immodesty, as if he hadn’t even noticed until it was pointed out to him. Rather than apologize, he replied, “It’s nice to know your hospitality is limited to animals.” The statement was so strange, it warranted another look at him. A cocking of the brow and a search of the face for any signs of intoxication, or if he was simply a hallucination. Instead, all she saw was a bandage around the thigh and a sharp red eye cut down the center by a nasty scar. No…it couldn’t be…

               Rei tightened her grip on her dagger as she scrambled to her feet. The sky overhead had grown inky black, the stars poking through the darkness to shine down upon them. All Rei knew for certain was that she needed to go home. She needed to get as far away from here as humanly possible. And yet her feet refused to move. If anything, there was an unnerving grip in her chest pulling her ever nearer to him. All she could manage was to pull the ragged cape from Toshio’s flank and shove it into the man’s hands.

               “Put this on” she commanded. “I can’t stand to look at you.”

               The man took the cloak and did as he was told, tying it around his waist like a makeshift hakama. “Sorry” he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hate when that happens.”    

               Blinking, Rei asked in sharp disbelief, “Does…does this happen often?”

               The man paused a moment before asking, “Which part?”

               Unbelievable. Shaking her head, Rei turned to mount her steed and disappear back home. This man was testing her patience—a man she was unsure was even real. No, she needed to remove herself from this situation before she sank too far into her own insanity. Perhaps if she climbed into bed with a cold towel to her forehead, then come morning, this would all be a hazy memory.

               He wasn’t sure why but the sudden threat of her departure struck him with a desperate yearning. He couldn’t afford to let her leave. Not yet. Not now. Acting on impulse, he reached out to grip her wrist. “W-wait!” he called. “I’m sorry” he continued. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I don’t often find other people out here. Nonetheless women as…as beautiful as you.”

               Truthfully, Rei wasn’t buying it. If he was aiming to erase the predatory undertones of his appearance, then this was not helping his case. “Well, maybe that’s for the best” she muttered. There was a fire in her gaze that almost made him back down. Almost.

               “Please…tell me your name” the man then asked.

               Rei considered his question for a moment. She wasn’t sure if it was information she ought to give out. But then again, there was no harm in telling very real things to very fake people. “Natsuki” she replied, her voice breathy as if releasing the pent-up pressure within a balloon. “Rei Natsuki.”

               Rei Natsuki. The name enveloped him in a strange, titillating comfort. “Rei” he repeated, paying close attention to the way her name fit in his mouth. He said it again, nodding. Rei. “That’s beautiful.”

               For a moment, with her hand clasped in his in the moonlight, she suddenly felt as if their flesh was melding into one. She never considered herself particularly beautiful. The thought of someone else thinking of her as such felt foreign and displaced. And whatever was foreign was immediately terrifying. “And what about you?” she asked. “What’s your name?”

               The man cleared his throat before answering, “Kakashi.” The name brought Rei a similar sensation of comfort and anxiety. It seemed so familiar, like a vague echo of childhood nostalgia that she couldn’t quite comprehend. She felt her hand grow clammy in his grip and she knew in that moment that if she did not leave soon, she was likely going to be sick. Kakashi felt her wiggle her way out of his grasp, saw the nausea painting her face, and knew he had made a terrible mistake. “I’m sorry” he said again. “I never meant to scare you. It’s just…you remind me of someone.”

               “Oh yeah?” Rei asked. “Who?” The thought of her resembling a stranger to a man with limited social connections was unnerving and, quite frankly, inconsistent. Her curiosity piqued.

               “I spend most of my time reading” Kakashi started.

               Before he could say more, Rei interrupted. “You read…?” she asked. It wasn’t that she considered him illiterate, necessarily, but rather was simply shocked seeing as so many people these days had given up on books. The thought of having found someone else who thrived within the nooks of narratives piqued her interest that much further, though she was also admittedly unsure of how this factored into the original topic.

               Kakashi nodded in reply, noticing a significant change in the way Rei carried herself. She seemed more open, more accepting, and in that, he could breathe a sigh of relief. “Have you ever read the works of Master Jiraiya?” he asked. “You remind me of his heroine, Junko.” Then, slightly more sheepishly, “She’s actually my favorite.”

               “Oh?” Rei asked. Toeing the dirt, she asked quietly, “What, uh…what do you like about her…?” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him now. She was unfamiliar with the books he spoke of, but she was deeply intrigued by how he could so firmly assess her character after only knowing her for an hour or so.

               Kakashi went on to name off the traits he admired in a woman, exemplified by Junko in the novels. Unbeknownst to him, so many of them paralleled Rei’s personality. She felt stripped down, exposed and terrified. How obvious was she that he could pin her down so clearly? His rattling only further convinced her this had to be a dream. But his grip felt so real, so soft yet strong. Was she really capable of dreaming up something so vivid? She didn’t know. The more she questioned it, the more she feared that perhaps she truly was losing her mind. And all the while, her mind harkened back (on its own accord) to the idea of fate. The idea that everything happens for a reason, that there is a destined companion for everyone. When she looked at him, that strange, shapeshifting man, she somehow saw home. She only wondered if he felt the same.

               Dark storm clouds rolled in overhead to blot out the moonlight.  The moment she opened her mouth to speak, a crack of lightning illuminated the sky followed by thunder so intense, it shook the whole wood. A cold slap of reality.

               “I have to go” Rei said abruptly. She had no clue what time it was but that didn’t matter anymore. Danzo would certainly be searching for her now, seething and strict. She could not let him know what she was up to in the woods.

               Kakashi watched her approach Toshio, who had since become rather impatient, but not without a deep ache in his chest. “Rei, before you go” he called. She turned to him as he approached her at Toshio’s flank. He tenderly brushed the hair out of her face and she felt her cheeks enflame yet again.

               “What is it…?” she asked, her voice small and meek. She was terrified of what he was about to offer.

               Kakashi stammered a moment before motioning toward the makeshift clothing tied around his waist. “What about your cloak?” he asked.

               “What about it?” she rebuked.

               “You should take it with you” Kakashi said. “It’s yours, after all.”

               Rei glanced down at it, the way it cinched at his waist and fell in tatters to the forest floor. Panic rose in her throat as she feared watching him undress. She rested a hand upon his forearm and whispered, “Keep it. You need it more than I do.”

               A small smile touched Kakashi’s lips as her hand lingered on his arm. “I’ll return it to you tomorrow. Come back and see me at sunset. Please.”

               She considered the request for a long moment. For Kakashi, that stretch of time felt eternal. He rested his hand atop hers, a silent prayer that she would say yes. And looking into his mismatched eyes, the way his jaw clenched in anticipation, and his toned chest and strong arms—“Yes” spilled out of her mouth on it’s own accord. Delighted, he kissed her hand delicately before encouraging her back home. His lips stung against the soft flesh and she felt her mind spinning as Toshio raced back to the village.

               Kakashi watched her depart as the rumbling sky intensified. A sinister feeling, like smoke on the moors, crept across the forest floor. He knew what was coming but he did not care. He would deal with the forest’s wrath later. For now, his focus was her.

[jaeminlore]

Leap of Faith | Jaemin

summary: jaemin is spider-man. he’s also in over his head, and head over heels in love with you.

words: 7.6k+

category: ps4!spidey universe, fluff, angst, bad writing 

warning(s): brief mentions of blood, fighting, and threats

a/n: you don’t have to have played the game to read this story. but if you did play the game, yes, i changed the outcome of **** *** because i’m selfish.

The streets of Brooklyn seem almost dead at midnight. You walk to your apartment, one earbud in while the other hangs off and bounces against your name tag every few seconds. Clack, clack, clack... 

You ignore it and focus on the beat of the drums that play through your head. Work was rough, and the weather seems rougher as white breaths surge through your lips. Winter feels horrible here, and walking home during the cold and dark season is not — and never was — your first choice of transportation. However, the subway is sketchy around this time, and you feel like you’ll fend better on the streets. Your apartment is in a well-lit area anyways, so who would try anything?

Clack, clack, clack... thud!

Nearby, a trashcan falls to the ground. The clatter alerts a nearby alley cat, who runs across the road towards safety. Trash falls across the ground. You keep walking.

You reach your apartment safely, but you don’t let out a breath of relief until you’re in your living room with the door locked behind you.

Then you turn on the light and see that everything in the room has been ransacked, and your pet cat is nowhere to be seen. Drawers and cushions are scattered across the linoleum, and all your clutter is, well, cluttering up any free space. You notice an old MCR cd and focus on it as you try to figure out what’s going on.

The first thing you do is pull your cellphone out of your pocket and dial 911. It rings once, twice, then “911, what’s your emergency?”

“My apartment has been—“ your phone flies across the room. You shriek in fear when it crackles with electricity. It drops to the floor and you watch as it glitches a few times before turning off completely. 

“Oops.” Timidly, the culprit appears, and it’s Spider-Man. The actual Spider-Man, with his red suit and tall stature. Your eyes focus on the large white spider that spans across his chest. Was that always there? You don’t think so. Maybe it’s an upgrade.

You still don’t know what he’s doing in your house.

Well, right now he’s shaking his hands, letting a few crackling strings of web fall to your floor. “I didn’t mean to use my electronic webs. I’ll buy you a new one.”

You blink. “What are you doing here? Did you mess up my place?”

“No!” Then he looks guilty. Well, his mask looks guilty (you aren’t sure how that’s possible). “I mean, I didn’t do it alone. I certainly didn’t mean to ransack your place specifically it’s just... me and my friend were roughhousing and it got out of hand.”

“Just say you were fighting bad guys in my house and go.” You grumble and make your way to the fridge, where the frozen pizza you bought is luckily still residing. “Why can’t you take your fights into the street? Or, like, not in someone’s home?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I really didn’t mean to. I can’t exactly control where the fights go. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“I hope there won’t be a next time,” you say honestly. “My insurance is pretty nonexistent.”

“Can I bring someone to help you fix the place?” His voice sounds shameful.

You’re upset that there’s a giant dent in your cabinets, but you don’t doubt that Spider-Man’s intentions were good. “I think I can handle myself. Thank you for getting your, uh, friend, out of my house.”

“It was Hammerhead,” Spider-man says goofily. “And no problem!”

You slip the pizza in the oven and when you turn around, Spider-man is gone. Nothing but an open window and a gentle breeze is left as evidence that he was even here.

Well, except for your destroyed kitchen. You sigh and close your window, flicking the lock. “Be safe,” you whisper against the cool glass.

🕷️

The broken cellphone looks even worse under Octavius Labs’ fluorescent lighting. You grimace, wondering if you could somehow get this fixed before your mother gets worried that you aren’t answering her calls. Luckily, Octavius Labs is pretty famous in Greenwich for its kind scientist and his assistant, who will almost always fix something for little to no cost.

Dr. Octavius must be out, seeing as his assistant is the only one in the lab when you enter. You’re pretty sure his name is Jaemin. You’ve seen him around, especially when his Aunt May owns the F.E.A.S.T. Shelter in Chinatown that you work at. Jaemin is known for making quick friends of the occupants there. He makes many of them feel comfortable and safe. He is exceptionally well at it.

He’s dressed in his usual: jeans and a too-long sweater. The only thing that’s distinctive about the outfit are his bright red Converse, scuffed beyond repair. His back is turned to you, and all his attention seems to be focused on the desk in front of him. You notice he’s sewing some kind of cloth — red and blue — together. Maybe he’s patching up a hoodie? Or some kind of electrical blanket?

You clear your throat.

He jumps, and the cloth is so quickly hidden away that you wonder if it was even there in the first place. Jaemin turns around and leans against the desk casually. “H-Hi.”

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him, but in this cramped lab, you can see the soft brown curls that threaten his eyes. You can see his shiny white teeth, partly hidden behind chapped lips. He’s pretty; boyishly pretty, part of you thinks.

“Hey,” you say, confused by his not-so-secret secrecy. “Uh, do you, uh, know how to fix a phone?“

The boy winces when you hold up your phone in all it’s glitching glory. “What happened?”

You think about the masked stranger in your dorm last night. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

Jaemin lets out a laugh that sounds a little too forced. “That bad, huh?” But he doesn’t question you any further. “I can probably have this done before the week is over.” 

You sigh in relief. “Thanks so much, Jaemin. I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His eyes are leveled, lips drawn in a thin line. “Really.”

🕷️

Ever since the last bust at Rikers, Jaemin has been resuming his duty as friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. As exciting as huge battles are, battling five arch nemesis’ at once can take a lot out of a man. Jaemin thinks he has had enough broken bones to last him a lifetime. Or at the least, the next few years.

He’s perched atop Octavius Labs, listening to his headset spout off different crimes throughout the city. Sometimes he wishes that — despite the famous saying — the city would sleep. Just for a few hours. Enough for him to take a nap, or find a job more stable than Octavius Labs, or go on a date.

He scoffs at himself. “Date. As if anyone would deal with my secretive nature and inconsistent schedule.”

His earpiece beeps. He presses the call button. “Hey, Aunt May.”

“Jaemin, uh, sorry—“ the voice that comes through is flustered, but Jaemin knows he’s heard it before. “—it’s Y/n, from F.E.A.S.T.? Anyway I was just gonna let you know that I took the night shift here, and May said you might come by. I was just thinking that you could bring the phone?”

Each word sounds more nervous than the last. Jaemin is already swinging towards Chinatown when he replies. “Yeah, no problem! I’ll bring it by.”

He wonders why you sound so nervous when he’s the one who tore up your apartment and broke your phone. Not that you knew it was him, but still. His guilt should trump your nerves.

He drops onto the roof of F.E.A.S.T. and extracts the backpack he has webbed to the underside of the air conditioning unit. He quickly slides his sweater and jeans over his suit before tucking his mask in the bag. He hastily runs his fingers through his hair in an effort to look presentable, and then he’s walking down the fire escape and entering F.E.A.S.T. through the front door.

F.E.A.S.T. is essentially a giant gymnasium, with beds and chairs and tables all scattered around for whoever is occupying them at the moment. Jaemin figures Aunt May is either in the kitchen or in her office, but he finds you at a table, playing chess with an older woman. “Y/n, I brought your phone.”

You look up from the checkered board. Your cheeks are still rosy from the chilly air, and your hair — albeit tied up — is rather windswept. There’s one strand that hangs just over your eyes, and it makes him want to tuck it back behind your ear. Then he thinks that sounds too intimate, too weird when he’s just the boy who broke your phone. 

Then you’re tucking your hair behind your ear by yourself, and the moment is gone. “Thanks! How’d you fix it so fast?”

Jaemin’s neck feels hot when you smile at him like that. “I-It was nothing, really.” He doesn’t want to admit that he nearly wiped out your entire cloud, and it took him a good few hours and a few deep dives into reddit forums to figure out how to get it back. He’s still working on getting the hang of his new web designs. It was extremely unfortunate that Hammerhead insisted on fighting inside of your apartment. In retrospect, you’re lucky Hammerhead didn’t decide to ram through your wall.

“Of course it is! You saved me a lot of money and time.” You reach out and squeeze Jaemin’s arm reassuringly. “I know I probably interrupted whatever you were working on, so is there any way I can thank you? Maybe take you out for pizza?”

Jaemin nearly denies, because he knows this scenario all too well: someone nice shows the littlest amount of interest in him, and he ruins it because of his spidey schedule.  He knows what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna schedule a time for pizza, and he’s gonna get a dispatch call, and while he’s stopping thugs from holding up a gas station, you’ll be leaving the pizza place, vowing to never call him again. 

It always happens like that, because he can’t be Spider-man and lead a normal life. He’s tried. He’s failed. Horribly. Multiple times. He’s not ready to do it again.

But then May is sidling up to the two of you, and her eyes are sparkling in a way they haven’t for a few months. “Jaemin would love to go out with you! Gosh, it’s been years since he went out with someone his own age.”

You squeeze his arm again, and Jaemin knows it’s supposed to be reassuring but it’s dizzying more than anything, and he blinks a few times before he remembers where he is. He’s at F.E.A.S.T., with you, and his Aunt has just set him up for a date. Wait, a friendship get-together. Not a date. Because Spider-man doesn’t date, and that means that Na Jaemin doesn’t date.

You seem all too excited about the thought of pizza, and it makes Jaemin’s heart ache when he thinks of your pretty lips turned into a frown once you realize he’s stood you up. But he thinks you might give him the same look if he says no. “Okay. How’s tonight, after your shift?”

“Great!” Then you let go of his arm, and you’re walking away, and Aunt May has this look on her face like she knows.

So Jaemin blushes. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

🕷️

He doesn’t go for a walk, he goes for a wall-crawl downtown, patrolling the streets as the day turns to the dawn. He put his number into your phone when he fixed it, so it’s really up to you to drop a call whenever your shift is over. He prays that until then no call comes in. He prays that for once this city’s police force can hold their own. Just until he can get pizza with you.

He thinks of this pizza when he swings towards Central Park and stops a mugger from taking a lady’s purse. He thinks of your clear and happy eyes when he rescues a cat from a tree. He thinks that he’d really like to hear your soft giggle again, because he’s almost forgotten it, and he’s sure it’s a nicer sound than cars honking and men cursing. 

Jaemin makes a joke to a robber just as the man getting pushed into a cop car, and then his phone rings. It’s Yuri, alerting him of some illegal gun trade in Brooklyn. It makes him worry, wondering if it’s anywhere near your apartment and if it’s safe for you to go home.

Someone called him while he was on the phone with Yuri, and he checks his voicemails to hear your sweet voice. “Hey, Jaemin. It’s me again. Y/n, that is. I don’t think you’ve forgotten me but I don’t know how many people you talk to. Does that sound weird? Sorry. Anyways, I was thinking we could just order pizza and eat it at F.E.A.S.T during my ten o’clock break? I know it’s late but just... just let me know, Jaemin. Thanks.”

Jaemin wants to go. He can make it too, if he busts this trade quickly. 

He’s Spider-man, so he thinks he might be able to do it, but he’s also Na Jaemin. And Jaemin is bad at time management and even worse at relationships.

The clock strikes ten o’clock and he’s still trying to get through the intricate ventilation system. He curses under his breath; he feels angry at himself once again for breaking a promise, but there’s a city at stake.

There’s no telling where those guns will go; who they will hurt. If he can get to them in time and destroy the guns, everything will be worth it. Even breaking up a relationship before it even starts.

🕷️

He reaches F.E.A.S.T. just before the clock strikes midnight. His suit is covered by civilian clothes. His mask is tucked away in his messenger bag. The guns are all destroyed.

You walk out of the back door just as Jaemin is about to walk in. “Oh. Hey.”

He feels nervous again. That jittery feeling in his chest is back, but it’s smothered by guilt. “I’m so, so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to be so late. Something came up and—“

“It’s okay,” you say. “I wasn’t even sure if you’d get the voicemail, so don’t sweat it.”

Jaemin is sweating it. Literally. He can feel the perspiration creep up where his suit meets his skin. His heart is beating fast again. His palms are warm. “Still... I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you? Walk you home, maybe?”

“How about you walk me to my train?” You smile softly, “I’m taking Q at Canal Street Station.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin breathes, “I can do that.”

He spends most of the walk trying to keep his heart from bursting out of his chest. Once he can hear over his heartbeat, he realizes you’re telling him about your day.

“May said we’re getting more people the colder it gets,” you start. “Which is a good thing, I suppose. It’s better they stay at F.E.A.S.T. than out on the streets, but we still need more volunteers. I was thinking of staying over a few nights, so that May will get the nights off, but I have classes and an apartment to keep up, so I don’t know.”

“What are your classes for?”

“Teaching,” you reply. Your cheeks are suddenly dusted with pink under the streetlight.

“Oh yeah? What for?”

“Just early childhood education. Preschool or daycare or something like that, you know? Nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” Jaemin scoffs. “That’s like, the most important job in the whole world. Teachers shape kid’s lives. They’re like, modern day heroes.”

“I think our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man took that role already,” you say.

“Right.” Jaemin suddenly feels hot under his hoodie. He’s hoping desperately that you don’t notice the red, white, and blue suit just underneath his clothing. “What do you, uh, think of him. Spider-man, I mean?”

“Funny you should ask,” you mutter. “You might not believe this, but he’s the one who broke my phone.”

Jaemin feels a thin sheen of sweat line his suit. “No way.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, “I’m just glad you were able to fix it.”

“It was the least I could do.” For ruining your apartment. For breaking it in the first place.

Jaemin’s earpiece beeps. He pretends to scratch his ear as he answers the call. “Spider-Man, did you miss me?”

He nearly groans out loud before remembering where he is. He quickly mutes the call just as you reach your building. “Goodnight, then. Have sweet dreams.”

You smile softly, and Jaemin can’t help but return it. “See you later?”

Jaemin nods. “Yeah! Yeah, of course.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, he unmutes the earpiece. “What do you want, Screwball?”

The girl cackles through the comm. “Welcome to the grand show, Spidey! Today’s challenge is stopping the Brooklyn Bridge from blowing up! But not before you answer my riddles, and find the bombs!”

🕷️

A late night commercial is a murmur in your living room as you continue to study. You don’t have any classes or work tomorrow, so you figure pulling an all-nighter won’t hurt anything. You’ll sleep in tomorrow and then head to the store with the list of supplies May emailed you. You know she’s been overworked as winter draws nearer, so it’s the least you can do after she’s given you the day off.

The commercial ends, and it’s replaced by the late night news. You reach for the remote to turn it off, but pause when they mention Spider-Man. You turn it up. “... Screwball is a well-known adversary to Spider-Man, always creating challenges to stream live. Tonight, bombs were planted under the Brooklyn Bridge, and while police filed to the area immediately, they were unable to find the explosives. Spider-Man managed to crawl under the bridge and dispose of them just in time, throwing them toward the sky and webbing them so that they blew up out of harms way. Twitter blew up over the surprise fireworks, while Screwball was quickly found and arrested. Reports say her lawyer is willing to fight under the grounds that Screwball herself didn’t plant the bombs, only live-streamed Spider-Man’s mission. Her identity is still remaining a secret, but rest assured, she’s locked up tonight...”

The television clicks off as soon as you hear a knock on your window. Keeping the remote in your hand, you raise it above your head and quickly pull the curtain aside. You nearly shriek at the sight of Spider-Man himself, all dressed in red and blue.

You raise the windowpane. “What’s going on?”

“Aw, you didn’t miss me?” Spider-Man leans his hip against the sill and you swear you can hear a smile in his voice. He quickly straightens up. “Actually, I came to make sure your phone was okay, and that no one has broken in.”

“Since you broke in, you mean?” you quip, lowering the remote. “I’m fine. My friend fixed it, actually.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” 

You grin. “Yeah, it was cool of him to do it for free. So... this Screwball business, huh?”

Spider-Man lightly taps his forehead against the fire escape. “She’s killing me. She uses all these loopholes to basically stay out of Rikers. Stupid, really.”

He moves backwards, and then winces suddenly. 

“What’s wrong?” You don’t know why you feel so concerned. After all, Spider-Man has done nothing for you except break your phone and give you a minimum of two heart attacks. Still, he did come to check on you (a week late.)

“Nothing,” Spider-Man says. “Just sore from all the swinging. I’ll go home and take a soothing bubble bath before I get back into the swing of things.” He — his mask? — winks at you. 

It was such a stupid pun that you couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, well good luck with that.”

He’s gone after that. He shoots a web at the building across the street and swings away, like some kind of phantom. You wait until you can’t see him anymore before closing the window.

You get back to your studying, thinking only briefly about the web-crawler.

Because really, what he heck was he doing here?

🕷️

When you wake up at noon, you check your email. Then you see that Jaemin sent you a text, asking if he could come along on the shopping trip. May must’ve told him about her plans for you.

You tell him to meet you at F.E.A.S.T. in an hour, which is just enough time to eat and get ready.

Jaemin is a very cute boy. Especially when he wears his oversized blue sweater brandishing Octavius Labs’ logo. His wire-rimmed glasses keep slipping off his nose as he talks to Miles, another volunteer-slash-worker at F.E.A.S.T., and he keeps pushing them up absentmindedly. You kind of want to take a picture and keep the visual forever. But Miles peaks over Jaemin’s shoulder and notices you. “Y/n! Hey!”

“Hi, Miles.” You wave gently and sidle up to Jaemin. “Thanks for working on a weekend so I could have the day off.” 

“No biggie,” Miles returns with a nonchalant wave. “Jaemin wouldn’t forgive me if I took the opportunity of spending the day with you away.”

Jaemin’s gaze flicks towards you, and his cheeks suddenly turn red. “I thought you’d need help.”

Your cheeks lift as you smile. “I appreciate it, Jaemin. You ready?”

The two of you make it to a department store, where you stock up on the clearance blankets and pillows. May has a budget for F.E.A.S.T., and you and Jaemin intend to get as much stuff as you can with it. You pick up a small plushie shaped like Spider-Man and nearly make a quip about last night before Jaemin gets a text alert.

He checks it and groans. 

“What’s wrong?” You peak over his shoulder and glance down at the text. It’s a news alert, and the news is that Screwball has been tweeting about another challenge for the masked hero. “Again? This soon?”

Jaemin pulls his aunt’s credit card out of his wallet and hands it to you. “You can finish the list, right? I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait—“ you grab his sleeve before you can think. “Why?”

“I— uh—“ Jaemin grimaces. “I forgot I had to be at the lab. I have, uh, a project I need to finish by tonight and I’m afraid I might not make the deadline.”

“Oh, okay,” you whisper, feeling insecure all of a sudden. He’s lying, that much you know, but you don’t know why he feels he needs to lie to you.

He walks out of the store, and you finish shopping for the list.

You return it to F.E.A.S.T., ignoring the blare of the television as it covers yet another one of Screwball’s schemes. As you hand out blankets, you ignore the sick feeling in your stomach.

How much of these challenges can Spider-Man take before he fails?

🕷️

That night feels like déjà vu. Another knock comes at your window, and this time, you let Spider-Man into your apartment. He’s groaning in pain, so you ease him into a sitting position at your table. 

You’re in the middle of making him tea when he speaks. “The challenges are getting harder. She’s timing them now, and the police still can’t find a real reason to keep her in jail for longer than a day. I think she’s in for a week for this one though, so that gives me a break.” He accepts the tea with a quiet thanks.

You watch in silence as he lifts his mask up just above his top lip, enough to take a small sip from the mug. His mouth looks familiar, but you can’t really place it. Besides, he pulls his mask down after every sip, so it’s not exactly easy to tell. “Can’t you just ignore her? Won’t she go away if you let the FBI handle it? It would make it less fun for her, right?”

Spider-Man leans his head against his palm and let’s out a long sigh. “I’ve never been able to trust those guys.”

“Okay, what about Sable?”

“Ew, worse.” 

“I figured, but wouldn’t it be better for them to take the fall instead of you?”

Spider-Man lets a bitter laugh escape him, “I’d have to take the fall no matter who Screwball challenged. Jameson would certainly talk about it over his stupid radio show that everyone seems to believe—“

“I don’t,” you say, because it’s important that he knows. It’s hard to see someone who is clearly just as young as you, risking his life every day. “Anyone with half a braincell can see that you’re doing your best.”

“But is it enough?” Spider-Man says. “Because Screwball nearly flooded the Rockefeller Center today. And that’s certainly not as bad as blowing up a bridge but after a week in prison? She’ll have a horrible plan, I know. And I don’t know if I can keep up. It’s creeping into my personal life, too.”

“What do you mean?” 

Spider-Man takes an anxious sip of chamomile tea. “There’s this... friend. And I kind of really like them, but keeping my secret— my life, basically from them is really hard. I would love to tell everyone close to me, you know? But it’s such a huge risk. If anyone knew who I found important— if Screwball knew...”

“I understand.” Your words are barely comprehensible. You reach forward and grab the boy’s gloved hand. It looks kind of silly: his bright red gloves again your bare skin. But it also looks like your hands belong there; together.

Spider-Man swings away within the hour, but your mind stays fixed on him deep into the night.

🕷️

The next time Jaemin has free time, he visits you at F.E.A.S.T. Today you’re supervising the children that live there, as they paint pictures.

“Hey,” Jaemin whispers. 

You turn towards him, a bright smile on your face and pink paint on your cheek. 

Suddenly Jaemin feels too warm under his lavender sweater. “This is a cute little class. Is it new?”

“Well, May’s driving a bus full of adults to the job fair across town. I needed something to keep the kids distracted until their parents came home.”

“Do you need help?” Jaemin asks, looking around. “Is Miles here?”

“He said he has extracurricular activities,” you shrug. “It’s okay, we’re having fun.”

Jaemin gets along with the kids well enough. They like him as long as he complements them on their paintings. There’s even a little girl that seems to have a crush on him. She ends up following him around the majority of the time, so Jaemin lets her hold his hand and help him clean up the cups of dirty paint water.

You’re in your element. Jaemin can see why you want to be a teacher, as you’re good at it. You’re gentle and encouraging, but authoritative enough to keep all kids at bay. Jaemin would’ve never pictured you as the authoritative type, but now he certainly doesn’t want to get on your bad side.

He feels affection bloom across his chest. There’s something so genuine about watching someone in their element. Someone so invested in their own interests that they don’t even notice how big their smile has gotten; how their eyes suddenly seem to glow. There’s this halo of purity and love that circles around them, and right now it’s around you and Jaemin thinks he’s going to melt at the sight.

He absolutely adores you. He adores you and all you stand for. Though he’s only known you for a short time, he wants it to be more. He wants to make it official and be able to hold your hand. He wants to kiss you hello and goodbye. He wants people to know he’s your boyfriend and tell him how lucky he is so he can reply, “I know.”

He wants to show you the love you show the world. 

You look up and brush your hair out of your face. “What’s wrong? Is there still paint on my nose? I thought I got it off...”

“No, you’re good.” Jaemin clears his throat and returns his attention to the kids.

🕷️

Jaemin walks you home after your shift. Out of hospitality (and your extreme fondness for Jaemin) you invite him inside.

He walks straight to the kitchen and grabs a mug out of your cupboard. It’s the same one you usually give to Spider-Man when he comes over, and you feel a bit possessive over it for that reason.

You take it out of his hands. “Maybe... let’s use different mugs. This is— My friend, he— This is the mug he uses when he comes over.”

“Oh.” Jaemin blinks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I—“ Jaemin isn’t even supposed to know where your cupboard is. Only Spider-Man has been in your kitchen.

Stupid.

“It’s okay.” Your features soften and Jaemin notices the way you hold the mug close to you.

“Is your friend- I mean- Do you like him?” Jaemin doesn’t know why he feels jealous right now. If you say yes, you’ll be talking about him. He’s not sure why it bothers him so much that you might like Spider-Man more than you like Na Jaemin.

“No...” You place the mug back in its place. “I just- You know a lot of people at F.E.A.S.T. are just people looking for safety? Away from their homes or relationships or whatever?”

Jaemin urges you on with a confused nod.

“I don’t think my friend has a place like that. He’s got a lot of enemies and I want him to always feel welcome here. So I don’t want his favorite mug to be dirty if he arrives late tonight for some tea.”

Jaemin knows it’s not the appropriate time, but he really can’t think of anything but pulling you into his arms and kissing your breath away.

There’s no one else in the state of New York as caring as you. Not to Jaemin. Even as Spider-Man, no one has so casually extended their hospitality to him. He carries danger around with him wherever he goes, and yet you make sure his favorite mug is filled with tea every night.

“Jaemin? Are you okay?”

Jaemin bites his lip to keep his affections from spilling out. “Yeah. I’m great, actually.”

🕷️

Jaemin wants to scream. Every single time he sees you, he wants to confess that he’s the masked boy that’s been visiting you every week.

But it’s hard. He doesn’t know who to trust anymore. Not that he doesn’t trust you, but he has no idea who Screwball’s minions are. What if they find you and take you away? 

Hanging out with you as Na Jaemin is dangerous enough, but as Spider-Man? Jaemin seriously begins to wonder if he has any brain cells at all. 

But he likes you. He really, really likes you. He likes you so much for just being around him — Spider-Man, that is — and never demanding anything of him. He can’t remember the last time someone has seen the mask and not asked for any favors.

And as Jaemin, he’s failed you. He always fails you because he has Spidey business to get to. He’s left you disappointed more times than not, and at this point he’s pretty sure you like his alter ego better than him. Not that he can blame you.

It’s another night of infiltrating demon warehouses when he finds himself wishing he could just be honest with you about everything. It’s really selfish, though, so he tries not to think about it and focuses on alerting the police that he’s caught more demons.

“Yuri,” he addresses the captain tiredly, “I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.”

“I wouldn’t do that yet, Spider-Man. Sorry, but the networks getting alerts of a hostage situation in Greenwich. We don’t have any other info yet, but we might need you.”

Spider-Man’s comm beeps. “I’m getting another call, Yuri. I’ll swing to Greenwich and call you back for more info.”

“Thanks, Spidey.”

He answers the new call. “Hello?”

“Aw, did the police already tell you? I was hoping to be the one to break the news! Anyways, today’s challenge is for you to go on a scavenger hunt through Greenwich and find the prize!”

Jaemin’s stomach suddenly feels heavy. “What’s the prize, Screwball?”

“Don’t you know? What’s most important to Spider-Man right now? Who owns that apartment you’re always visiting? My viewers are just dying to hear what’s up. Maybe a love story to tell?”

“Screw off, Screwball.” Jaemin swings towards Greenwich. How did she find you? How would she know that you’re important to him and not just a business partner?

Jaemin can feel the tears stinging already and it sucks because he’s gotta make smart quips to Screwball. He’s gotta play her game so she cooperates. All she wants is content. If Jaemin gives her content she won’t hurt you. It makes him so angry that Screwball is using you for views. Using you to force him to play this stupid little game. 

He wants to cuss Screwball out but he isn’t sure how young her viewers might be. 

“Are they safe?” He hopes the fear in his voice isn’t as evident as he thinks it is. 

“Your precious little darling is hanging out with me! Don’t worry, I’ve got a bucket of popcorn for the two of us and a blanket to cozy up until you get here.”

“Let me talk to them.” He swings over the Rubin Museum and perches on top of the building. He struggles to catch his breath as Screwball cackles.

“Can’t go a minute without talking to your sweetheart?” Screwball coos, but she hands the phone over anyway.

“I’m okay,” is the first thing you say, though your voice is shaky. You follow up with, “Just stay safe. Take your time; I’m okay.”

As soon as your voice catches in your throat Jaemin wants to confess. He wants to you to know that he’s not just some random boy in a mask. He’s Jaemin, your friend, and he loves you so so much. He needs you to know that just in case he- 

Just in case he fails you.

But he can’t tell you because your phone call is being live-streamed for all of the stupid world to hear and damn it if the police couldn’t do their job just once and get you to safety.

The comm begins to break up and Jaemin knows this stupid wild goose chase is almost over. He knows this is when Screwball drops the plot twist and tells him he only has so much time left. But he’s still swinging from building to building with no idea where he’s going or where you are. 

“Y/n here certainly would like you to come quickly, Spidey. We’re just chilling on the balcony, enjoying the night air. Would be a shame if they fell off, huh?”

“You do anything to Y/n and I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” Screwball cackles. “You’ll turn me in? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“You’re blackmailing me. You’re holding someone hostage, you—”

The comm switches, and it’s Yuri in a distorted voice. “We blocked the stream for thirty seconds. You’re not live. Screwball’s stream has a private network and firewall to break through. Our team’s working on it but we need you to keep talking. Alright, time’s u-“

Jaemin listens silently while Screwball tells her viewers that she’s back online. He does his best to try and pick apart the background noises. Any small clue that might show him where you are. He knows the two of you are on a balcony, or a ledge, or something you can fall off of because Screwball doesn’t make empty threats. 

Then he hears it: the sirens. They’re loud through the stream but faint through his own ears. 

He swings toward the sound, desperate to find you before Screwball does anything.  

“What do you want from me, Screwball?” 

To keep Screwball talking, he’s gotta ask her questions about herself.

🕷️

Okay, so you don’t exactly know how you managed to get ambushed by Screwball. All you know is that you were on your way to F.E.A.S.T one minute and the next, you were being dragged into a dark van. After screaming — and being consequently gagged — Screwball revealed herself to you. 

Now you’re tied to stool, balanced on the edge of a balcony in the middle of some neighborhood you aren’t familiar of. 

You’ve managed to stop your blubbering for now and focus on the sky until Screwball lets you speak to Spider-Man. That’s when you’re voice breaks and you find yourself panicking because that’s not Spider-Man’s voice over the comm.

It’s Jaemin’s.

And it sort of makes sense now that you think about it — Jaemin and Spider-Man have never been in the same place at once. Jaemin went directly to Spider-Man’s mug as if it were his own. And Jaemin seemed almost over-eager to fix your phone, as if he somehow had something to do with it.

Right now you don’t really care. Right now you just want him here, with you. You want Screwball arrested and you want to be home, in your apartment, snuggled under a blanket with Jaemin where nothing can hurt you. Either of you.

You want Jaemin safe too.

The tears bring on an instant headache so you do your best to keep them from forming behind your eyes. Instead you focus on the city. If you try hard enough, you can ignore Screwball’s annoying voice. 

You gaze at the skyline and focus on looking for Jaemin. He’s gonna be here any minute now. He has to. 

“Better hurry up, Spidey, or it’s sleepy time for your little sweetheart!” 

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Jaemin swings from a nearby building and kicks the camera out of Screwball’s hand.

You close your eyes during most of the fight. Based on the quips the two keep shooting at each other, it doesn’t sound like a dangerous one. Jaemin’s probably just stalling for the police. Still, it makes you feel queasy and a little bit scared, so you’d rather not watch.

The police finally arrive around ten minutes later, after Jaemin has successfully webbed Screwball to the ground so that she can’t escape.

As soon as she’s in handcuffs, he turns to you and begins to free you from your restraints. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I had no idea she’d ever find out about you. I didn’t know they kept such close tabs on me. I shouldn’t have been so reckless and stupid. I shouldn’t have visited you so often, but I didn’t want to stay away and—”

You grab Jaemin by the shoulders and pull him into your embrace, burying your face in his neck. “Jaemin, it’s okay.” 

He chokes out a sob and squeezes you tighter. “I’m sorry I did- didn’t tell you earlier...”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Now, let’s go home.”

🕷️

The two of you take turns showering at your place, and while Jaemin is cleaning up, you watch the news to make sure that Screwball is being locked up for good.

After a positive confirmation, you turn the television off and go to your room.

Jaemin walks in moments after, face red from the too-hot water. He’s got on one of your hoodies and a pair of your sweatpants, and he looks so broken-hearted that you can’t help but feel sad too.

“Please don’t blame yourself.”

Jaemin crawls under your dark blue covers. He turns to face the wall, away from you. “You could’ve died.”

“I know,” you whisper. Anxiety pools in your chest at the thought. But you don’t want to think about what happened. You want to be distracted, and you want to feel safe.

You wrap your arm around Jaemin’s waist and press your forehead against the space between his shoulder blades. “I didn’t, though, and that’s thanks to you.”

Jaemin’s body shudders again, and your heart breaks at the sound of him crying. You squeeze him tighter and kiss his nape. “We’re safe now. It’s okay.”  

🕷️

Jaemin keeps his distance from you for the next few weeks, and while you know why, it doesn’t make it any easier to bare.

You miss him greatly, and constantly ask May how he’s doing. She’s tried to get him to reconcile with you, but it’s no use. He’s blaming himself for the Screwball incident. You want to yell at him and remind him that •he’s• the hero of this story. He’s the one who saved you. 

Without him you wouldn’t even be here.

But Jaemin doesn’t see it that way. You keep up with the news and follow all the Spider-Man blogs you can, trying to figure out whether or not Jaemin is okay. The last thing you want is for him to do something reckless out of guilt. Luckily, though, he’s back to fighting smaller-scale crimes and tweeting from his Spider-Man account.

So he’s okay. At least, he’s okay enough. 

You know it’s all just one big distraction from that night, so you keep a tea kettle on the stove every night, just in case. You never know when he’ll finally break and swing by.

Your intuition rings true by the end of the week, when a familiar knock appears at your window. You open it with haste, hopeful of a tearful — or just joyful — reunion with your friend. Instead, Jaemin seems rather reluctant to be back at your place.

His mask is off, but his suit (or what’s left of it) is still on. His hair is a mess, and his face is covered in sweat and grime. There are tears in his suit from who-knows-what, and to top it off, Jaemin’s lip is bleeding.

“Jaemin, what happened?”

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, clutching at his ribs. “It’s just... I need help and no one else knows my secret. Except Aunt May, and she’ll worry too much. And Miles, of course, but he’s just a kid—“

You interrupt him. “Miles knows?” 

“Long story,” Jaemin grunts. “Can I come in?”

You help him onto your sofa and run to grab some supplies. After making him change into more comfortable clothes, you take a damp washcloth and begin to wipe the sweat and dirt off of his face. “What happened?”

His eyes stay focused on yours for a moment. Your heart skips a beat at the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him before.

“I- It was just a drug bust. I was distracted because my earpiece was on and it picked up Jameson’s podcast. I should’ve turned it off, but you know how he likes to insult me, and I felt like I deserved it so I listened. It cost me a kick to the rib and a punch to the face, though.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out as a strangled noise. “Ow.”

“I’m gonna get an ice pack,” you say, already halfway towards the kitchen. You open the freezer. “Do you think they’re broken?”

“No, they’ve been through worse.” Jaemin watches you walk back towards him. 

You sit right beside him and hand him the frozen pack. “Here. You apply it. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

Jaemin is still watching you. Although you feel nervous under his gaze, you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking as his eyes flit over your lips for what feels like the hundredth time. “I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“Oh,” you mumble, suddenly too shy to look at him. “It’s okay. You needed your space.”

“Yeah, but you were affected too. You were affected more than me, and I abandoned you when you needed me. I shouldn’t have done that, and I hope I can make it up to you.”

You smile sadly. “Jaemin, all I want is for you to be safe. Safe and happy, that’s all.”

Jaemin is still looking at your lips, but this time he’s leaning in. His eyelashes flutter again as he closes his eyes and you find yourself frozen in place as you prepare for the inevitable.

Jaemin is going to kiss you.

His lips find yours within seconds. They’re warm and soft, and when they slot between yours you think some people were just made to fit together. 

You feel one hand go to cup your jaw, but it doesn’t stop there. Jaemin reaches up and takes a gentle hold of your hair, tugging at the roots every moment or so. 

Being so close to him is overwhelming. You can smell his cologne, and although it’s mixed with sweat, it isn’t any less desirable than before.

You think of Jaemin’s soft eyes and warm smile and low voice, and you sigh into the kiss. Your heartbeat quickens when he smiles suddenly against your lips. “I like you, Y/n.”

You giggle and break contact. “I hope so.”

Jaemin manages to contain his blush as he rubs the back of his neck. “I really missed you when we were apart, and I don’t want to feel like that ever again.”

“So let’s try it out,” you whisper. “Me and you. We’ll protect each other, alright?”

Jaemin hums and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “Alright.”

[loveher286]

You hurt me 🥀

Most days I try to not remember you , only because I just wanted to tell you all the things I’ve felt when I was with you , it’s almost as if I was more With you than you were with me . With that being said it’s like you never wanted me and I’m trying to figure out who was more toxic me or you , well I can say for myself that I’ve always been a bit damaged and you did nothing to help me with that , it’s almost as if you didn’t care or you just never listened to me , you’ll argue more often about how I’m so closed off with you but if I’m being more understanding about my self it’s because if I’m not comfortable with you , you’ll never understand me and you’ll never get a full picture, I’ve been trying to find comfort throughout other people while holding on to you , and that’s only because I’ve always thought there would be hope somewhere that you’ll see that you’re hurting me by just not talking to me . I should’ve left you in the summer but I forgave you because I wanted something new I wanted to feel something different after the movies I really thought when I’m with you I’ll be soo happy I should emphasize on my happy because I seem to always want to find happiness in someone when it’s me, me that wants happiness for myself cause it’s clear no one can make me happy but myself, I’m hurting and I don’t know how why I want to blame you for this hurt but at the same time I don’t. I want to say you’re toxic , but it’s like why did I try so hard to want you when you never wanted me I was so blind by the possibility that you could actually want me . A girl like me so rare and broken so shallow with a broken heart, you didn’t even see that I was so broken , and that’s only because I was never open with you, but that’s only because you didn’t spend any time with me. Time yes time I always wanted your time but your pride took you away you became so inconsistent and I was so drawn to you but you just didn’t care or at least you did I just couldn’t picture you with me no longer so I ended whatever I thought we had , your last words to me was “oh” and that’s the only words I needed to prove you didn’t care 🥀I’ve always wanted you and only you , I tried proving that to you but when I see it clear I was the only one that was doing all the proving , trying , and holding . I wish one day we can reconnect and I just don’t wanna remember you I don’t wanna know who you are I just want you to remember me and not me reminded about how I once fell in love with someone so inconsistent that almost broke me so badly that I almost thought this could be forever , I was so scared you’ll leave me for someone else but my feels always thought you’ve done just that. When you txted me wanting to fix things I really thought you actually would’ve changed I’m sorry so sorry I left but not sorry again because you’re better off without me and I deserve so much better . You consistently told me I deserve so much better and I should’ve just walked away but I was so scared if I was gonna hurt you but deep down I was actually hurting myself . Distance , after you left for DC I just knew I would never see you again “never” yes let’s use that word because I could tell you were trying at one part , but then you stopped you changed so fast , shut me out completely... leaving me to just wonder ... days I would just wonder why you wouldn’t call me anymore... we would go days and weeks without a phone call or message. We made love and I just feel like that’s the only thing that could cure our drama.

Uh .. I started falling in love with you , but that was just toxic love , a love someone shouldn’t fall for , I didn’t love you, I loved the person you became the inconsistent person you became , the boy who would go days without me who wouldn’t call who would have so much excuses . That’s the guy I loved , you couldn’t even see that you hurt me , because you never actually wanted me or maybe you did in the beginning but then now it’s never like that. I showed you apart of me that was broken and I don’t know if you wanted to cure that broken wound but I was trying to open up to you I really was trying, but all I can say now is thank you , thank you for teaching me aside of me I never actually understood, the fact that I realize I’m so close off with people who actually don’t see my worth , a person who doesn’t see me for me . Someone who actually didn’t see how I lied , or just how I couldn’t do the things that you wanted , you wanna know why I was so closed off . Yes ! Because we weren’t really official ... not real .. I couldn’t open up to you because I was so scared to get my heart broken , to not have someone care for me and take care of my heart .. keep me safe and you didn’t realize that’s what I wanted so badly . You would blame me for how closed off I was with you . And that was only because you! Weren’t really there for me when I needed you the most ... I really wanted you to see that side of me , broken , shallow and scared that you would just never care . I don’t really express my feelings because I’m running away from getting my heart broken again and not finding someone that actually sees me for who I really am !

[romioneflufffest]

Practice Calls

Title: Practice Calls

Creator: @hillnerd

Rated: G/PG

Description: Ron and Hermione practice calling each other (missing moments set during POA through summer of GoF)

Easter Break was just around the corner, and it was not a minute too soon. Hermione was happy to have a time turner free week, as well as have her two best friends back in her life. She needed them now more than ever, as the pressures of her class schedule was starting to wear on her in little ways she had not even considered. She knew she hadn’t actually aged all that much, really, but somehow felt old and creaky anymore. Next to the Gryffindor fireplace she was longing for a nap, but something warmed her through far better than any fireplace could.

Ron had just walked into the Common Room and made a beeline for her, a lopsided grin gracing his freckled face.

“Mum sent Easter gifts. You got one too,” Ron said, handing her a wrapped package, the paper covered in little finely drawn quills.

“That was nice of her,” Hermione smiled, ripping into the paper much more delicately than Ron. Inside was a large chocolate egg with a hand-piped orange cat on it. She would have pointed out out the cute cat, but she had been avoiding mentioning Crookshanks in front of Ron the past few weeks. She was so happy for them to be on speaking terms again she was willing to never speak of her cat again.

“Well?” said Ron through a mouthful of chocolate. “You should eat some. You’ve had a tough week,”

It had indeed been a tough week. She’d slept through a Charms class, slapped Draco Malfoy, and even quit Divination. Ron had said he thought she was cracking up, and she wasn’t so sure he was wrong. He happily tucked in to his Easter egg before he took out a great deal of paperwork.

“What are you studying? Perhaps we can work on it together,” Hermione offered, breaking off a small piece of chocolate to nibble.

“It’s Buckbeak’s appeal. Wanted to send it off before the break,” he said, carefully writing something on it. She’d never seen his penmanship look more legible. Something about this made a tiny thrill rush through her.

“Yes. That’s a very good idea,” she said, feeling herself flush.

“You doing alright?” Ron asked, looking up from his neat papers.

“Oh yes! Yes I’m fine!” she said, leaning over to look through her book bag. Cheering charms. That’s what she needed to study. They spent the next twenty or so minutes in silence as each saw to their own tasks. She didn’t mind the quiet when it was her and Ron together. Harry was away at Defense lessons with Lupin, leaving just the two of them together. The companionship Ron provided was always welcome, though. Any time he was near her she felt just a little more capable, a little lighter, and a little more calm. It was no wonder she had been falling apart so much this year. She’d had to spend months out of his, and Harry’s, company. If it weren’t for that, she was certain her very busy schedule would not have made her so overwrought. Harry was nice to hang out with as well, but he just wasn’t quite the same as Ron.

“And… I think that’s done then,” Ron beamed looking down at his work. “Hermione, you mind looking this over?”

“Of course not,” she smiled back. She read page after page where Ron cited prior cases similar to Buckbeak’s, cited formal texts on Hippogriff behavior, and had many witness statements regarding Buckbeak’s behavior both before and after Malfoy’s run-in with the beast. It was more meticulously done than any paper of his she’d ever read.

“This is very good, Ron.”

“You think so?” he hopefully asked.

“I know so. If this doesn’t get Buckbeak cleared it’s due to pure malice on the part of the committee.”

“Good! I’ll ask Harry if I can borrow Hedwig after his lesson with Lupin,” said Ron, leaning back in his seat and putting his hands behind his head. “Don’t have any work due til after break! Mind you, my hand’s so cramped from writing the appeal, I don’t think I could do homework right now if I tried.”

“Would you mind showing me your notes from Charms?” Hermione asked. She’d missed Cheering Charms and knew they would show up on the exam. Ron quickly got them out, and she noticed they were a bit more detailed than usual. He’d done the same thing when she’d been in the hospital wing the prior year. His notes were inconsistent in quality until either she or Harry were absent- then suddenly his notes would look almost as detailed and neat as her own. They’d always had the odd doodle in them, so in some ways she preferred his notes. She found the funny little sketches to remind him of certain movements of the wand, and little notes Harry highly entertaining. She never told Ron this, of course, otherwise he’d never stay on task in class.

“Thank you.”

Ron took a large bite of his chocolate egg and seemed to be preoccupied.

“Y’know, this is the third Easter Harry’s been here, and that pissant ‘family’ or his never sends him so much as one letter,” he said, wadding up the wrapping paper from his egg and tossing it into the fire.

“Well… That’s not unusual for them, is it? They don’t give him real presents for birthdays or Christmas either.”

“Not even one bleeding letter! It’s ridiculous!” said Ron crossing his arms. “I wish I had an owl of my own so I could write him more often this summer.”

“Maybe we could try calling again?”

“After what happened last time on that fellytone thing? I flummoxed it up so badly, I think that fat uncle of his would have a coronary if I called. Worse, he might just put bars on Harry’s windows again.”

“Oh don’t!” Hermione cried out, not wanting to even think about how horrid Harry relatives were. “Those people are such monsters. It’s a miracle Harry turned out as well as he did.”

“Yeah…” Ron said looking down. “Well, I’m hoping to get Harry out of there early this summer, if I can.”

Hermione smiled. She loved how quick Ron was to find ways to help Harry out. Then a little thought began to form at the back of her mind.

“Ron… I was thinking. Maybe we can practice phone calls this summer,” said Hermione, eyes suddenly bright.

“Like I said, I don’t want to get Harry in trouble. That Uncle of his–”

“No no. Not You and Harry. You and me.” Before Ron could put forth any reservations, Hermione quickly went on. “It would be purely for getting better at calling people! Who knows, maybe Harry’s relatives will let him have a phone call. Either way, it would be good to practice. Who knows if you’ll need to call someone in the future.”

Yes. It was purely for practical reasons she wanted to practice phone call with Ron, and not at all because she would love to hear his voice over the summer.

“You don’t need to sell me on it,” Ron said with a laugh. “I can walk down to the village again. It’ll give me a chance to get out of the house without my whole family breathing down my neck.”

Hermione beamed, somehow looking forward to a phone call that was months away, even though Ron was right beside her.

____

Ron kicked a pebble along the dirt road as he made his way to the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. He’d been down the road hundreds of times at this point, but had never felt quite so nervous before. He wasn’t sure why he was so filled with nerves. It was just a phone call, and it was just to Hermione. He talked with her all the time at school, and wrote to her more often than he cared to admit to his family. When he’d told his mum he needed to go to the village to call Hermione his mum had insisted he bring a basket to pick up a few things from the farmer’s market around the corner. He was glad to have this as an excuse to give his siblings. He knew they would tease him for calling Hermione, just as they teased him for everything else.

Ron spotted the family pub just down the street and popped in, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“Excuse me,” Ron said, giving a small wave to the same bartender who had been there last summer. “Is your felltone- I mean— er— telephone available for a call?”

“We ‘ave the same phone booths as last time you was ‘ere,” the older heavyset man said, giving a nod to the set of phone booths at the far end of the pub. They each had old-timey phones in them, according to his father, making it a bit of a tourist attraction. And they were free, which made them a lot more attractive to Ron. Ron had been screaming into one of the phones last summer, so it was no surprise that the gruff man remembered him so sourly.

“They’s for payin’ customers only, though.”

“Right…” Ron said, sorting through the cash his mother had given him. “You have anything cold to drink? Butterbeer?”

Ron winced the moment it was out of his mouth. Butterbeer was a wizard drink! Why was he so bad at this? The barkeep’s red face scrunched up into a frown.

“Think you’re funny? I ain’t givin’ you no beer.”

“Er, whatever’s cheapest then,” Ron said with a shrug. The man rolled his eyes and took out a long snake-like tube and pressed a button, filling a glass with bubbly water the color of coffee. Ron thanked him and shakily doled out change. The man seemed impatient and Ron nearly dropped all the wonky coins he was so nervous. He managed alright, though, and finally made his way to the line of phones, fizzy drink in hand. He fumblingly got Hermione’s letter out of his jeans pocket and scanned it for her phone number. Dialing was an arduous process, and the phone’s dial tone was obnoxious to listen to as he turned the dial for each number. Her number had three nines in it, making it even worse to dial on the wheel of numbers. And then it was ringing. He took a nervous sip of the drink and nearly gagged at the overly sweet taste of it.

“Hello?” said a voice clear as a bell. Hermione!

“Pshlab,” Ron let out with a gagging noise.

“Hello?”

“Sorry!” Ron said rather loudly into the phone, before forcing himself to lower his voice. “Sorry. Had to buy one of those muggle drinks to get to use their phone. It tastes awful!”

“Ron! I’m so glad you called!”

He could practically hear her smile over the phone. Even with the bartender glaring at him, and the prospect of the twins teasing him about the phone call, he couldn’t help but smile back.

———————————————————————————————–

Hermione had been worried about their first phone call, as Ron’s previous experience with phones had gone so poorly, but it had gone very smoothly. She had given him fair warning not to yell into the set, and conversation seemed to flow just as easily over the phone as it had back at Hogwarts. He didn’t need to practice after the first call, but somehow Hermione didn’t want their phone calls to end. Ron didn’t seem to want their phone calls to stop either. A few times a week Ron would hoof it to the village to call Hermione, and tired of the teases from her parents as she tied up the downstairs line, she took the phone from the guest room to her own bedroom. Her mother caught her as she was carrying the phone, its long springy cord trailing behind her on the floor.

“Where are you taking the guest phone?”

Hermione blushed.

“I didn’t want to make my phone calls to Ron downstairs. There’s always noise of some sort, and it’s quieter up here, but more comfortable in my own room. I didn’t need a phone until now, and it’s not like any guests are using it, so I decided to borrow it for the summer. If that’s ok, of course. Sorry I didn’t ask,” Hermione babbled.

“You’re at the age where you’re having long calls with boys. Oh dear!” her mother teased, making Hermione blush harder.

“It’s not boys. It’s only Ron,” Hermione muttered.

“You write him so often, I didn’t think you’d keep up with the phone calls too,” her mother noted.

Hermione really could have stopped writing Ron, but there was something fun about doing both, then talking about the letter they received. She thought they might have nothing to talk about, but they actually had loads. Each phone call was getting longer and longer. That was why she wanted to do it in privacy as well. Her father would look at her, point at his watch, then continue to walk by.

“Well… It’s ok for me to take the phone, then?” Hermione hopefully asked.

“Of course. Just do it when your father’s out. We still only have one line, and he gets nervous when the line is tied up for too long.”

Hermione beamed, and ran the rest of the way to her room. She could have her phone calls with Ron and have them in private now.

Their next phone call was just as pleasant as ever, and Hermione found it so much more relaxing to lay on her bed as she talked to Ron. She could just imagine him there beside her as they talked, and a rush of girlish giggles making their way out of her mouth at the thought.

“You know what, at first I thought they’d be barmy, but I actually like telephone calls!” Ron said into the receiver. “I just wish I could see you, though. That makes Floo calling a bit better.”

Hermione beamed and wrapped the cord around her finger.

“Oh! We could see each other! Let’s practice Floo calls! I’ve never done one, and I don’t want to be the only witch at Hogwarts who doesn’t know how.”

Ron fell silent a moment.  

“Well… The telephone calls are private…” he said, suddenly not sounding very enthusiastic. Was she that bad to look at? Or did he not want anyone to know they were talking?

“Oh… Well, if you don’t want to.”

“Oh I do! I really do,” Ron said fervently. “It’s just… They would be in the middle of our house, and I it’s so mad around here we’d barely be able to talk.”

“I understand,” Hermione said, unable to completely hide her disappointment.

“You know what? Let’s do it. But it’ll have to be after everyone goes to bed, otherwise it’ll be nothing but the twins and everyone else butting in. We can even do it tonight, if you like. You’re already connected to the Floo network for when you come here next week. I can send Pig with some powder and you can try your hand at it. Around eleven?”

“Ok then! It’s a date!” Hermione let out, excitement making her wiggle in place.

“Er yeah! It’s a— yeah see you at eleven!” Ron said back. With that their phone call ended, and Hermione, for the first time she could think of, started to worry about what she should wear and what she should do with hair. She hadn’t seen Ron in nearly two months, and didn’t want to look poorly for him… Perhaps she should plait her hair? Should she still be dressed in her normal clothes? Or as it would be so late at night would it be more natural to have her pajamas on?

———————————————————————————————

Ron had sent Pig to Hermione’s earlier that day, but Pig hadn’t gotten back yet. Perhaps Hermione had borrowed him to send something to Harry? He hoped Hermione had gotten the powder alright. It was only a few minutes to eleven, and Ron couldn’t stop himself from pacing the floor. He wasn’t sure if he should wear his normal clothes or not, given the late hour, but thought he looked more presentable in them than his tatty pajamas. Percy had given him a pair of rarely worn jeans that fit alright, so he decided to wear that and a t-shirt that almost fit right, even though it was a bit tighter through the shoulders than it had been earlier that year.

Right at eleven the fire grew and sparked a bit.

“Ron?” He heard Hermione’s voice say through the fire.

“Yeah, I’m here!” Ron said, sitting down on the ground with his legs crossed. “You can put your head through, if you like.”

“Are you… Are you sure it’s safe?” Hermione said, sounding nervous. Ron chuckled a bit at Hermione being nervous about something. She was always such a little firebrand about things, so it was almost cute to hear her fret about something so common place to him.

“I promise, it’s as safe as a phone call,” he said, trying to hold his laughter as bay. He did his best to not laugh or tease people brought up with Muggle things when it came to new experiences in the Wizard world. Merlin knew he was clueless enough at Muggle things, so he tried to be as patient and aware as he could. He’d felt awful guilty the times he’d overlooked informing Harry or Hermione about something they should know.

The flames danced brightly for a bit, then Hermione’s face came through the flames, her prominent top teeth biting her lip.

“Oh!” she let out nervously. “This is so strange! Can you see me?”

“Yeah, I can see you,” Ron said with a smile. “You can see me too, yeah?”

She nodded before letting out a laugh.

“It doesn’t even feel warm. It’s so odd! I can’t believe it. It feels the same temperature as the rest of my house! I was worried it’d burn my hair, but it hasn’t.”

He could see her wild hair was plaided down the side of her head. It looked different than usual. He preferred it when her hair was all over the place, but wasn’t about to tell her this. In fact, she looked a bit different all over her head. Her eyebrows were a little thinner, and her eyes somehow looked a bit bigger?

“Your eyelashes look different,” he noted.

“Oh!” It was hard to tell in the flames, but Hermione’s tan skin looked a touch darker on her cheeks. “Well… I tried to… My mum gave me some mascara…”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a sort of… A sort of makeup that girls put on their eyelashes.”

“Why?”

“To make the eyelashes longer and darker.”

“Oooh. Do they make that for guys? Half the time I think I look like I don’t have eyelashes at all,” Ron said with smile, fluttering his light lashes at her. Hermione laughed at this and whatever was making her nervous seemed to dissipate.

Their Floo call was going quite well, and they’d been talking for well over an hour when Ron heard a scream on the other end of the Floo and Hermione’s eyes went wide.

“Oh! Mum! It’s fine!” Hermione cried out, pulling her head out of the fire. Ron could hear her mother sobbing as Hermione comforted her.

“It’s fine! It’s just magic! Let me say goodnight to Ron so he doesn’t worry. Look, watch this!” Hermione said, and then her face was in the flames again. “Ron, I have to go. I just gave my mother a terrible fright.”

“Yeah. Yeah, no worries. Sorry about that Mrs Granger!” Ron called back into the fire. The flames went out after that, and Ron had a great deal of trouble falling asleep.

The next morning he woke up to Pig dancing about his bed, a roll of parchment in tow. It took a moment to grab the excited little blighter, but after a few jumps he grabbed the little owl and untied a letter from Hermione.

In her even hand it read:

Dear Ron,

I’m so sorry our call had to be ended so abruptly. Mum was very hysterical to find her only daughter’s body lying headfirst in the fire. It took quite a long time to calm her down. I really liked getting to call you like this, but perhaps we should stick to letters until I come next week? I’m ever so excited to see you (And Harry and everyone else.)

I hope Ginny won’t mind me being in her room. She’s always been so nice all the times we’ve talked before, but I hate to put her out!

Maybe we can have one more phone call before I come over? Get that last bit of practice in for the summer?

I would write more, but it’s well past midnight.

Love from,

Hermione

——————————————————————————————

It had taken almost an hour for Hermione to calm her mother down after she had walked in on the fire chat with Ron. She couldn’t blame her mother, of course. It must have been a ghastly sight to come across at almost half past midnight.

Neither of her parents had been exposed to much magic, despite Hermione having been at Hogwarts for three years. There was little chance for them to learn, really, given how Hermione wasn’t allowed to use magic, and they’d only been to Diagon Alley a few times. She wished she could show them all the different spells and potions she’d mastered, but frankly they always looked perplexed as she described the lessons to them.

They failed to see how turning a teapot into a tortoise was something that would translate into a job down the road. Hermione tried to keep to lessons that made more sense to them, but couldn’t fail to see the mild disappointment and confusion that would cross their faces as she described class. They could understand making great grades, though, so she tried best she could to emphasize that, and lessons that pertained to history, healing, or performing useful tasks even they could appreciate. She had to be careful to avoid all the political bits of school, such as the Blood purists, the corrupt government officials, and the school board.

She also had to avoid mentioning how in danger she was each year. They had no idea how close she had come to dying each year, and the school didn’t deign to contact her parents about much of anything when it came to her exploits. Their hands off approach was rather shocking to Hermione at first, but over the years she came to appreciate it, as she could  almost fully control what information her parents were given about her goings on

Convincing them to let her travel to the Burrow by Floo took a good thirty minutes, but when they were assured over the phone by Ron that he and his father would escort her personally, they finally seemed ok with the choice. Her mother was not entirely happy with this, and let out a small scream when the fireplace broke out into tall emerald green flames, and a soot covered Ron had to crawl out of their low, by wizard standards, fire place.

“Hey Hermione,” he said with a smile. Ron’s father came up right after, and did a quick spell to clean them, as well as the carpet and hearth, of all the soot.

“Hi Ron!” Hermione smiled, and gave him a large hug after he was dust free. He returned her hug with gusto, his ears burning, probably since everyone’s eyes were one them. He seemed taller than he had been just a few months ago, and he was wearing a pair of jeans that fit him much better than most of his others.

Ron’s Dad was every bit as excited to see her parents as he ever was, so Hermione took the opportunity to give Ron a quick tour of her house. At first he seemed quite keen, but after the first few rooms his mood seemed to dip low.

“Are you alright?” she asked, seeing him frowning a bit.

“Yeah… It’s just… Well, you’re house is really nice,” Ron said with a forced smile.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah… Yeah…” Ron said starting to look worried.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Course I am. Just… Well, you’re coming to stay at our place, and I think I could fit three of the Burrow in your living room, and we have almost four times as many people who will be under one roof. It’ll be tight, and not as nice as this…”

“I’ll be with you,” Hermione said with a smile, before catching herself, “and everyone else. I’m sure I’m going to enjoy every single second there. Plus, I’ve never been in a magical home before. It will be amazing, I’m sure.”

“It’s just my home…” he trailed off, still looking uncertain.

“That’s why I’m sure I’ll love it,” she assured him. He seemed to get out of his funk as they entered her room.

“Oh wow,” Ron said, letting out a whistle.

“What?”

“It’s just, this room is a very Hermione-ish room, isn’t it?” he said with a laugh.

“What does that mean?” Hermione asked, uncertainly twisting a curl around her finger.

“Nothing bad,” he said with a lopsided grin that made her toes curl. “You just put your mark on it, didn’t you? Tons of books, the way the photos are all lined up just so, the wall calendar. It’s just very you.”

He gave an inhale.

“Yup. Smells like a Hermione room.”

“It smells like me?” she almost squeaked.

“Yeah, smells like books and that chapstick you always have around. The vanilla smelling one.”

“Oh… I… Oh…” Hermione didn’t know how to respond. Ron was commenting on how she smelled, but it seemed to be in a flattering way. She felt as nervous as she did before exams.

Ron let out a laugh and pointed at the far wall.

“Who in the world is that bloke?” he said, pointing to a poster of Einstein where the scientist had his tongue out.

“A famous Muggle scientist. He’s known for the theory of relativity.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Ron said with a shrug, “but he sure knows how to take a picture.”

“He did the Muggle equivalency of arithmancy, and figured out a lot about how the universe works, including gravity.”

Ron nodded at this and was about to say something when they heard her father call up the stairs, “Ron! Hermione! It’s about time to go!”

They went downstairs, and Hermione gave each of her parents a large hug. Her mother in particular didn’t seem to want to let go.

“You will write us often, won’t you?” she asked.

“Of course I will,” Hermione said, feeling a touch guilty knowing she wouldn’t see them for more than nine months.

“She can borrow my owl any time she needs to, Mr and Mrs Granger,” Ron supplied, and Hermione felt proud of how polite and courteous he was coming across. Ron then walked her, and her parents, through how they would Floo over. Apparently Mr Weasley had already explained the Floo Networks logistics, but they seemed to calm a bit more having a boy know how it works and treats the task as quite mundane. Ron threw the powder into the fire place, stood in the flames, and said ‘The Burrow’ very clearly.

Hermione received another firm hug from each parent before she followed Ron’s example and walked through the flames the same way, with Mr Weasley following behind with her trunk.

The Burrow smelled of freshly baked bread, and some other undefinable flowery scent she was almost certain she’d smelled at Hogwarts at one point or another. There was a brush magically scrubbing pots all on its own, a clock with pictures of the whole family pointing to different locations instead of times, and all the photos were moving. It was tight, but homey and Hermione felt immediately at peace as she walked further into the room. Ron bit his lip and looked a bit uncertain, until Hermione took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“This is the most amazing home I’ve ever been in!” she let out, and the beaming smile he gave her was so warming, she was certain she could power a Patronus with it, even though she’d never tried to do a Patronus Charm before.

“You know, I know it sounds barmy, but I think I’m going to miss our phone calls a bit,” Ron said as he pulled her towards the stairs.

“We can always do it again next summer.”

“I’d like that,” Ron grinned back at her.

She felt pleased down to her tows as he lead her for a tour around the house, her hand still in his.

[byuneebuns]

Fenced In (Part 10)

Chanyeol/Baekhyun x Reader College AU

Rated: M for Smut

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn, College AU

Author’s Note: SO I actually messed up a lot and this should have been the end of chapter nine and the beginning of chapter ten but here we are I am disorganized so it’s a little awkward and mobile formatting will be terrible and it’s filler but it’s less filler than it could have been and it’s okay consider it a breath of fresh air before the next chapter which I am sorry for in advance !!!

Fenced In Mini Masterlist

Chanyeol’s footsteps were slow, heavy thuds echoing loudly in his ears as he approached his apartment. He always felt uncomfortable coming home now and found himself scanning the parking lot for your car every time he pulled up. 

A heavy sigh left his shapely lips as his large palm wrapped around the cold doorknob, the cool sting of the metal a preview for what the door likely held behind it. 

He turned the knob slowly, practically tiptoeing across the threshold, hoping he wouldn’t startle you. He had told you he would be gone all night dog-sitting but he’d forgotten his laptop charger and was in the middle of a project that he desperately needed to finish. 

The first time that he came home early it broke his heart to see fear in your eyes as you quickly excused yourself from the living room and ran to your bedroom to escape him. He mentally berated himself for what had to have been the millionth time that week.

How could he be so stupid?

He hadn’t thought anything much of living with a woman, he always made a point to be respectful, but it seemed like he was too immature to handle it after all. Disgusted with himself as he was though, he couldn’t bring himself to want to leave, which only made him feel worse.

You obviously weren’t interested in him like that and he’d childishly come on to you anyways and now you were uncomfortable and afraid of him. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were, but he just didn’t know how that could ever happen.

The living room was abandoned. He was sure he’d seen your car outside, had you taken to hiding in your room even when he wasn’t home too? His lips were drawn into a thin line at the thought. 

He crept quietly towards his room, hoping he could get in and out without alerting you to his presence and causing any discomfort. He jumped as your bedroom door creaked open and his eyebrows flew toward his hairline as he was suddenly faced with the short, cheeky male from last week. 

His stomach sank like a heavy stone in water and he flushed as he spotted your figure wrapped in blankets over the man’s shoulder in the room he was retreating from, sleeping peacefully, your bare legs and shoulders making it clear what had transpired moments before.

Self pity was replaced with anger when he realized what was happening now though as he took in Baekhyun’s appearance. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and was obviously in the process of leaving.

Baekhyun carefully shut the door behind him and almost walked right into Chanyeol, covering his mouth to keep from shouting with surprise. Chanyeol’s eyes were shooting daggers at the smaller male as he towered over him, hands clenched into fists and shaking at his sides.

“What are you doing?” Chanyeol hissed, his voice low and furious. Baekhyun said nothing, bumping his shoulder on the larger man’s chest as he forced his way past him and towards the exit. Chanyeol’s temper took over and before he could stop himself he was following Baekhyun through the living room and grabbing him by the shoulder, forcibly turning the man around to face him.

“I asked you a question.”

Baekhyun’s eyes were filled with cold fury as he craned his neck to stare at Chanyeol’s face, not shying away from the challenge.

“None of your business. Get off of me.” He shoved the tall man’s chest, trying to loosen the large hand from where it was clutching his shirt, but it held fast. Chanyeol shoved him back, knocking Baekhyun into the wall next to the front door with a loud thump. He should have been concerned about waking you but he was acting on impulse now, fueled by adrenaline.

The two men stared at each other wordlessly, rage and mutual dislike radiating from their bodies.

“You’re a coward, you know that right? Pathetic.” Chanyeol whispered, finally letting go of Baekhyun and stalking away towards his room angrily. 

Baekhyun stood there silently, blood pounding in his ears.

“I know.” He mumbled to himself as he turned the door knob and made his exit.

***

You stretched your arms and legs out as far as they could reach, blinking the heavy sleep from your eyes and trying to adjust to the bright sunlight pouring into your room. Your eyes tried to focus on the clock on your nightstand, groaning when you saw it was almost noon. 

You sat bolt upright and flushed when your memories of last night came flooding back to you.

You and Baekhyun. But-

Your bed was empty and you suddenly felt small and very, very aware of how alone you were. Before you could stop them, tears were streaming down your face. You wrapped yourself in your sheets and ventured into the living room, confirming his absence when you saw that his shoes and other belongings were missing. 

You trudged back to your room, biting your lip hard to keep more tears from falling.

No new messages.

You threw the phone angrily onto your bed, not caring that it bounced away and hit the floor with a dull thud not unlike the dull thump of your heart. You didn’t regret sleeping with him. What you regretted was expecting anything more from him. Men were nothing but a disappointment after all. 

Anxiety clawed at your skull when you remembered that you had an entire semester of class with him left. How would he act when he saw you? Were you jumping to conclusions too quickly? Your instincts shouted at you that no, something was not right. This behavior was inconsistent with the warmth he’d shown you until now.

You brought your hands to your cheeks as hard as you could, the sting they left matching the sting in your chest. You refused to mope. You refused to let yourself be brought down by a boy like this. Not again. You forced yourself back out of bed and pulled on the first articles of clothing that you laid eyes on, not caring about your appearance. You fished your phone out from under the bed where it had landed and tapped a quick text to your best friend and meandered off to the kitchen to force yourself to greet the new day.

You sunk into the couch, thankful again that your roommate wasn’t home to see you in this sorry state. The hot Jasmine tea you’d made yourself didn’t taste like anything. The apartment was eerily quiet and calm, so when your phone vibrated you spilled some of your tea on your lap out of surprise. You smiled bitterly at the angry welt on your thigh from where the liquid had burned you, thinking it a fitting metaphor for how something you liked was always liable to cause pain given the opportunity. 

You tossed your phone on the couch, trying to suppress the disappointment that had bubbled up when you realized it was just your best friend texting you back, not the person that you really wanted to hear from.

***

                                               -One Week Later-

“Hello? Is anyone home?” 

Hani’s irritation was plain on her face as she waved her well-manicured hand in front of your face.

“Huh? Oh, I’m so sorry, I just-”

She waved her hand again, dismissively this time, and cut you off before you could go on.

“You’re tired, yeah, I got that part the first few times. What the hell is up with you lately? You just keep saying that a lot is going on and not actually telling me what that means.” She sulked, taking a long sip from her milkshake.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll explain.” 

You sighed and started to rattle off what felt like years of anguish that had been unceremoniously crammed in to the last several weeks. You were gasping for air by the end of it and you felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, both literally and figuratively. 

It had been a few weeks since you’d last spoken to Chanyeol beyond necessary communications. You were still embarrassed at how strongly you’d come on, and of your lack of self-control, and afraid for what could happen as a result of it. You didn’t want to make things awkward with the person you were forced to share a home with, or more awkward than they already were, and you certainly didn’t want to start the search for a new roommate again so soon. There was just too much at risk. You worried that avoiding him would have made it worse but things had been at least bearable, except for the fact that you felt a heavy weight in your stomach whenever you were in the same room. A longing, and a sadness. Maybe this hadn’t been the best course of action but you didn’t know how to stop it now, so you continued closing yourself off from him.

Baekhyun had been quiet lately as well. Not spending as much time with you, not bombarding you with obnoxious text messages or paper notes during class, and just generally putting up a little distance between the two of you. In fact he barely spoke to you at all unless you spoke to him first. He was still polite, which was nice, but your stomach twisted with sadness nonetheless when your mind wandered to him. You didn’t want to think of him as someone that was only nice to women until he could get in their pants but it was undeniable that his attitude towards you had changed after you slept with him. 

You’d spent a little time together in the days following that Friday night, but to your great disappointment it had seemed like he was careful not to touch you or be as open with you as you’d come to expect. It was just different, strained, and it hurt. You wanted to ask him if you did something wrong, but you weren’t brave enough to hear the answer so you swallowed your feelings and hoped he was just busy, even though every shred of instinct that you possessed was screaming at you to realize that he was avoiding you.

Getting to tell someone all of this was therapeutic in more ways than you could have anticipated, you hadn’t realized just how much you needed it. You weren’t always the best at reaching out to your friends when you were going through a hard time, being a naturally introverted and more reserved person, so you were eternally grateful to have a best friend that would check on you and ease your emotional burdens when you couldn’t reach out for yourself.

Heeyeon, or Hani as you’d always called her for short, had been your neighbor growing up and your best friend since childhood, so you were closer to her than anyone else. She had always been fierce, pretty, and popular, contrary to your low profile and average appearance, but you complimented each other well somehow regardless. It broke your heart to leave her and your home behind for college, even if it was a mere hour drive, but she always made an effort to see you as often as she could between her own class and work schedule. More often than not you just hung out and got food but it was always nice just to see her no matter what you had planned.

You didn’t go home nearly as often as you should, but she always brushed it off and said visiting you at school was a good opportunity to survey the cute college boys. The diner you had chosen to have lunch in was sadly devoid of them though and seemed to rather be a haunt for the older residents of your neighborhood.

“Okay, so you weren’t kidding, you do have a lot going on huh? I told you a boy for a roommate was bad news. I thought you swore off boys forever though, after that one guy, what was his name? Sehun?”

“Please don’t remind me about that.” You groaned, rolling your eyes at the mention of your summer fling before you started college.

Hani snorted with laughter.

“I told you he gave me bad vibes, but no, you were in lo-”

“Please shut up forever.” You dug your index fingers into your ears, trying to drown out Hani as she shook with laughter at your expense.

“Okay, okay! Wow, really though, you want to fuck your roommate? He’s that cute, huh? But you fucked your classmate instead? Some problem solving skills you’ve got.” She said non-nonchalantly, finally recovering from her giggle fit. 

“Shh, what are you thinking!? Be quieter. And to be fair I wanted to fuck my classmate either way, so, there’s that.” You whispered, glancing around to make sure you weren’t overheard, eliciting a scandalous gasp from Hani.

“Wow, you big slut. I love it. Make them fight for you to the death in mortal combat. Like, jousting or something.”

“That would definitely solve my problem, sure, except neither of them are talking to me right now anyways.”

“Well one of them will never talk to you again when the other one wins. See? I’m a genius. You’re welcome.” Hani said seriously, crossing her arms across her chest with finality.

You burst out laughing, earning a look of disgust from a nearby elderly couple that was trying to enjoy their Saturday lunch in peace.

“Finally, you smiled. I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.” She sighed.

“On a serious note though, what you need to figure out is what your feelings about both of them really are. Do you really like hot roommate boy, or are you just lusting after him because you know that you shouldn’t be? Do you like the classmate guy or is he just a placeholder for the boy you wish you could be with? Figure out how YOU really feel before you stress over how they feel about you.” Hani said, the smile that had been gracing her lips fading as she fixed you with a probing stare.

You sighed, burying your face in your hands.

“I don’t know if its that simple. I can’t see things in black and white like you can.”

Hani shrugged, clearly finished with her diagnosis of the situation, and changed the subject before you could retort.

“So, listen, I already know you’re going to be a giant baby about this but I met this guy that goes to your school a few weeks ago and he invited me to a party tonight. You’re going to say you won’t go but you will because I’m going to literally beg you and you love me so you’ll cave, so let’s just skip where you say no.”

“No.”

“Oh, here we go. Please? Like, pretty please? My one and only best friend in the whole world wouldn’t make me go to a party alone? With a boy I barely know? That’s so dangerous.”

You were every bit the petulant child as you crossed your arms and scowled at Hani.

“We could do something else instead. Something that maybe doesn’t involve torturing me with the promise of social interaction.”

Hani groaned, rolling her eyes and tapping her sharp nails rhythmically on the table.

“I already told him that I would go and you really need to get out for once.” She said, crossing her arms and glaring right back.

You stared at each other like that for a few minutes, waiting for the other person to crack. 

“Fine. I’ll go. You owe me for this though, and you better me not ditch me all night for this boy.” You said through gritted teeth. You knew when to pick your battles with Hani and you could tell this wasn’t one you would win. Hani clapped her hands together excitedly, beaming.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! We’re just friends, it isn’t like that anyways. I knew I could count of you!”

You sighed dejectedly, resigned to your fate. 

This was going to be a long night.

[ncfan-1]

ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives: S1 EP017 (’The Bone-Turner’s Tale) and S1 EP018 (’The Man Upstairs’)

Body horror and another episode that reminds me of Ito Junji’s work. Not a good pair of episodes for people with weak stomachs.

No spoilers past Season 1, please!

EP 017: ‘The Bone-Turner’s Tale’

- Sebastian’s gushing about the power of books is kinda sweet, though the power we see displayed in this episode is anything but. (And I happen to have in my possession a few books—not first editions, of course—that have outlived the societies that produced them, so I get the wonder on that account.)

- And Michael Crew (mentioned in ‘Page Turner’) has snuck another Evil Book into an innocent Chiswick library. What the hell, man?

- And we get static when Jonathan reads out the title of the book—‘The Bone-Turner’s Tale.’

- Jared Hopworth sounds like a piece of work, though the fact that he still seems so fixated on a guy who was his friend and now he seems to want to believe he hates is a little… sad. I doubt Sebastian felt much, if any, sympathy for him, but I suppose that as a listener, I can feel sorry for him. Or, at least, I feel sorry for him now. All sympathy dies soon.

(And I’ve since learned that I was mishearing the name ‘Gerard Keay’ as ‘Jared Key.’ Personally, in Sims’s voice the names ‘Jared’ and ‘Gerard’ sound frankly identical, but okay. I’ll call him ‘Gerard’ from now on to avoid confusion.)

- And we have an intermission and our first proper introduction to Elias, where he proceeds to tell us just how badly Jonathan’s first attempt to interact with a statement giver went. And that the creepy, creepy Lukas family is one of the Institute’s patrons. I’m sure that’s not a bad sign at all.

- “I’ll… be more lovely.” No, you won’t.

- Yes, I’m just sure Martin’s off sick. Normal sickness, being shut into your apartment by a living hive of flesh-eating worms.

- Sebastian, I understand not wanting to create unnecessary drama, but it might be better to tell your coworkers if someone’s harassing you if you think there’s any chance he might drag them into it as well.

- It’s odd that Jared would walk off with the book even if he seems a bit frightened by it. Some sort of compulsion, perhaps? Or maybe he’s run into Michael Crew before and recognized a book that had once been in his possession.

- The thing with the poor rat is the reason why I will not be revisiting this episode, not unless I just do a big re-listen of the series in general. It’s also the thing that completely evaporated my sympathy for Jared (Even before we saw what he did to his mother). That was his pet, an animal without any significant ability to hurt him in its own defense the way a cat or a dog could. It probably trusted him unhesitatingly, didn’t even consider Jared might hurt it until he did. And I know a lot of people don’t like rats, but tame rates make for really cute, cuddly, affectionate pets. I do mean affectionate—they have the same capacity for empathy and bonding with owners that cats and dogs possess. And Jared did that to it. I will not go out of my way to listen to this episode again for the very simple reason that animal cruelty, especially cruelty towards your pets, turns me right off.

(I probably would have scooped the rat up and taken it to the vet once I realized it was a tame rat. Of course, given the state it was in, probably the only thing the vet would have been able to do was euthanize it so it wouldn’t suffer any more than it already was. But I can understand Sebastian not wanting to pick up a strange animal.)

- I can understand Jared’s mother taking her anger out on Sebastian. It’s probably a lot safer being angry at him than at Jared, considering the new skill Jared’s picked up. I note we never see her again after she presumably steals the book to take it back to the library. I doubt that bodes good things for her fate.

- We get static again when Jon reads out the title of the book.

(I listened to the first episode again today, and there was static when Jon read out the “Can I have a cigarette?” spoken by the entity of the episode, too.)

- I was curious as to whether pseudo-Chaucerian tales were a thing, and sure enough, it turns out that during the Medieval era it was for a time the fashion to write pseudo-Chaucerian tales in an effort to “finish” The Canterbury Tales. Some people decided to add on to the Cook’s Tale, which Chaucer died before he could complete, or to write new ones whole-cloth. One is called The Plowman’s Tale, another is called The Tale of Beryn.

- It’s a pity the thing with the rat affected me the way that it did, because the rest of the story is quite engrossing.

- And ‘The Bone-Turner’s Tale’ is so evil it makes other books bleed. That’s… definitely something.

- And we get static when Sebastian describes the books bleeding.

- Sebastian pointing out how ambiguous it is as to whether the bone-turner is traveling with the other pilgrims or if he’s just following (stalking) them feels… right, for this kind of series. Horror thrives on ambiguity, on puzzles where there’s just enough empty space or there’s a couple of pieces missing, so we don’t know what the whole picture is supposed to look like.

- The fact that the technical quality of the prose is mediocre is oddly hilarious. Because, you know: evil book that gives people the ability to manipulate bones.

- More static when Sebastian quotes the book.

- Why am I not surprised it’s a Jurgen Leitner book? From now on, I’m just going to assume that any weird book that shows up in this series is a Leitner book.

- The description of Jared’s “modifications” is excellent. Especially the extra limbs and the ribcage modified to be a mouth. Pushing the boundaries on what counts as human, aren’t we?

- I wonder how Jared was running. Was he scuttling along like a giant spider, or something?

- I do wonder what the cops (and the library staff, for that matter) thought about the bloody books. How do you look at something like that without having some kind of comment?

- And Jonathan is predictably rather ill with the thought of another surviving Leitner tome having slipped through the cracks.

- Yeah, Jared attacked and mangled Sebastian so severely that he died, and had a closed-casket funeral. I really doubt Mrs. Hopworth is still with us.

EP 018: ‘The Man Upstairs’

- Here’s another one that reminds me of Ito Junji’s work.

- I understand that in the U.K., the floor numbers in buildings go top-bottom, instead of bottom-top. At least, that’s the impression I’ve gotten. So the fact that Toby Carlisle is said to live on the first floor I take to mean that he lived in what in the U.S. would be called the second floor.

- The smell Christof associates with Toby in the beginning—a combination of pavement after rain on a hot day and spoiled chicken—makes me wonder when exactly Toby started nailing up the meat. Did he start small at first, so that you’d only notice if you got a whiff of it through an open window or door? Or was it his association with the entity in question that made him smell like that—did he just carry the odor of decay with him wherever he went?

- It’s interesting that Toby did the hammering meat onto the walls once every two weeks, on the dot. Did he have a schedule he had to keep to?

- The description of the carpet in front of Toby’s door… ick.

- Interestingly enough, I think we got a little bit of static when Toby said “What do you want?” Do the distortions extend to human agents of the entities we’ve seen in the series?

- Oh, God, I’ve finally figured out what the viscous, off-white liquid seen in the episode is. It’s liquefied fat, isn’t it?

- The plumber’s visit… You know, my senior year working towards my anthropology degree, the washing machine in the dorm above the one my roommates and I lived in broke down and flooded the upstairs dorm—and ours, too, eventually. I can’t begin to describe how fortunate I feel right now that the only thing that came pouring out of the light fixtures in the kitchen was soapy water.

- The interior of Toby Carlisle’s flat, this is what reminded me of Ito Junji’s work. Can’t you just imagine him drawing something like this? I’m pretty sure he has drawn something at least vaguely similar to this before; I’d go and check, but that would require me to look at it again, so no, thank you. (I think it was in a oneshot manga called ‘Greased.’ Only vaguely similar, but way too similar for me to want to look at it.)

- The description of the flat is actually quite good. Probably the only reason I can deal with it is because I don’t have to look at or smell it.

- Was… Toby trying to summon some kind of meat entity with this nailing up meat all over his flat? Was that why the meat thing with all the eyes was in the kitchen? And I suppose it just sort of winked out of existence when it realized it had been spotted.

- “It opened its eyes. It opened all its eyes.” I’ll… just leave this here.

- It’s interesting that the cops, the fire department, and the hospital all give such different accounts. I would have liked to see what the inconsistencies entailed. I feel like that could be very telling.

- I’m glad Christof got some counseling.

- I think the stinger in this episode is the best one up so far. Where was Toby getting all the meat?

[le-sejour]

Say No to This

Written for this prompt on Hamilton Prompts

Word Count: 3,170+

Pairing: Jamilton

Warning: Swearing? Mentions of sex ,and a slightly heated scene c:

A/N: Please forgive me (and tell me c: ) of any errors or inconsistencies in this. It’s been a real hot minute since I’ve written anything for leisure, especially anything historical, and I’m still trying to rediscover my footing. But! I decided to give this a shot bc it seemed like fun c: This was meant to be silly, given the prompt, but I dunno aaaaaa ; A ;

I hope you guys like it! C: (also ha ha cheap jokes and references bc why not)

It’s been a week since his beautiful Eliza and Philip traveled uptown with Angelica for the summer, and Alexander was still wide awake. Stacks of parchment sat on his desk, waiting for his quill. But the words all seemed to blur together and nothing seemed to make any sense. So there he sat, staring at the wall adjacent to him as he sometimes did when he was alone in his study.

Knock knock

He was snapped out of his stupor by the sudden sound. Was that the front door? He glanced out the window and saw the sky changing to twilight. It was getting late. Who could it be?

His eyes lit up. Could it be his wife and son? Have they decided to come stay with him after all? His heartbeat quickened at the thought, he had missed them so much. The house was too quiet without them. His gait gained a slight bounce as he neared the door, the prospect of seeing his wife and son energizing him despite himself.

But as he opened the door, confusion settled on his visage as he stared at someone who was most definitely not his wife or son.

“I know you are a man of honor,” The stranger started, her face held a tinge of red, her eyes puffy. “And I’m so sorry to bother you at home.. But I don’t know where to go, and I came here all alone…”

He felt his conscience stall.

“My husband’s been doing me wrong; beating me, cheating me, mistreating me…” The words seemed to flow together like a song, her voice melodious like a lullaby. He felt his eyes burn and grow heavier with each word.

“Now suddenly he’s up and gone.”

He struggled to keep his eyes opened as his vision of the voluptuous woman and the world swam before him.

“And I don’t have the means to go on.”

Thud.

The following morning, Alexander found himself in his bed. His mind trying to wrap around the situation, struggling to remember when he fell asleep.

Then it clicked.

Frantically, he looked to the side, expecting to see the woman from last night. He was relieved, (yet also a tiny bit disappointed?) to see Eliza’s side undisturbed. Had it been a dream?

His eyebrows furrowed, if it had been a dream, he would have fallen asleep at his desk. He shot up, was the woman a thief?! He ran as fast as he could, after disentangling himself from the mess of sheets and the floor, to the sitting room. Eliza would be fuming if he was careless enough to invite a lady-thief into their home.

But, looking around, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary; all their books, trinkets, and furniture were still in the right place. And after searching through the other rooms, nothing seemed to have been stolen.

“Huh.” He mumbled out loud, his gaze sweeping his sitting room once again. Maybe he had dragged himself to bed after all? Of course, he was skeptical as he was always quite self-aware of himself. However, after realizing the time, he decided to ponder on the situation at a later time.

George Washington was not paid enough for this shit.

Of course, serving the young nation and its liberated people was an honor that no amount of money could ever hold a candle to.

But this?

It had been an innocent enough morning. He woke up, kissed his wife good morning, bathed (a luxury he thoroughly enjoyed after mucking around in blood and shit for the majority of the ‘80s), ate breakfast, kissed his wife good bye, and took a carriage to work.

His morning was the most domestic thing you could ever come across, so why was the man losing his haven’t been invented til 1846 marbles, you ask?

Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton.

Now, most of his constituents would say “Oh, but Mr. President, we all know they’re always at each other’s throats whenever they’re in the same room together.”

Don’t.

Because they are.

They’re at each other’s throats.

Or, more specifically, their tongues are down each other’s throats.

“Jefferson, take a walk.” The president pinched the bridge of his nose. He could handle their normal behaviors; Alexander with his barely filtered mouth and stubbornness, and Thomas the French weeaboo with his arrogance and holier than thou attitude.

“You too, Hamilton!”

But this was an entirely different field. He didn’t even know either of them played for that field!

“A walk?” The Treasury secretary murmured against his lover’s lips. “That’s it! Great idea, sir! Come with me, Thomas. Let’s take a beautiful moonlit stroll together.”

“But it’s morning…?” Someone called out in the background.

“Ah, but what’s in a name?” He sighed, stroking the older man’s cheek with his thumb lovingly. “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Without waiting for another quip, the proud Virginian tugged the lovestruck Alexander (who was now trying to sniff his luscious, curly hair) out the door with him.

“Wait, that’s not what I-“ And they were gone. “Never mind.”

He sighed, rubbing his silky smooth scalp in exasperation. He could already feel a headache coming on. “Meeting adjourned. Someone, write to his wife. I’m going home.”

“I came as soon as I heard!” Eliza burst into the Washington Estate, her bags, Philip, and Angelica still with her.

“Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Church, Philip” George acknowledged, motioning to the couch. “Take a seat, please. This might take a while.”

The Schuyler sisters listened intently, confusion painted across their faces. Philip had already made his way over to Martha, more interested in what she was cooking than the ‘adult’ conversation happening in the sitting room.

“I-I don’t understand.” The younger murmured to her sister as their host left to answer the door, her eyebrows knitted as she tried to make sense of it. “Aren’t they… rivals?”

Angelica nodded, looking perturbed. “Before I left London, Alexander had sent me a letter about how he and Jefferson were at a deadlock. Surely this isn’t the compromise they reached?”

“We are just as bewildered at this display, Madams.” The president stated, setting a package in front of them. Angelica peeked at the contents nonchalantly. It was stacks of legal documents that were vandalized by crudely drawn images of Thomas and Alexander with their names and hearts written all over. Now it looks like The Bill of Rights was made by children. “This is clearly not their ordinary behavior.”

“Is that-”

“Unfortunately. Mr. James Madison is not going to be too pleased at the vandalism of his work.”

“Could they perhaps be playing a trick on us?” Eliza wondered nervously after a pregnant pause, playing with a lock of her hair. “They couldn’t possibly… I mean, Alex would never… Would he?”

“I’m afraid I cannot answer that either, Mrs. Hamilton.” Martha and Philip then walked in with a tray of tea and snacks “However, while waiting for your arrival, we have had Alexander confined to your house. You will find him with a guard stationed by the door to prevent Jefferson from entering, of course.”

After tea and biscuits, the Schuyler sisters and Philip gathered their things and thanked the couple for their time.

“We’re terribly sorry for the fuss my husband created. I’ll be sure to straighten things out at home, Mr. President.”

Two weeks later, and things were just about as straight as the unlikely coupling of Thomas and Alexander.

It was chaotic.

During the first week, they tried to keep the two apart, scheduling two sets of cabinet meetings while they sorted things out. James Madison was tasked to keep an eye on Thomas, but the man was as slippery as a snake and would often sneak out to visit his rival turned lover.

He had tried asking Thomas what all this was about, but all he got in return was a poem he wrote about Alexander’s… quill.

Next, Angelica and Eliza tried asking the other half of the two, and all they got was a 30 paged essay on why Thomas was the love of his life before he tried jumping out the window to try and find his courter.

Eliza, at first, was worried she was going to lose her husband to the curly haired Francophile. But the more it wore on, the more she realized although Alexander would make every suggestive and romantic gesture possible, (they tried to sneak into the house and have sex, once, fully scarring Philip for life before Angelica scared Thomas away) he still came home to her without fail.

Perhaps, she mused, this wasn’t really her Alexander. Maybe he was bewitched by old magicks and this would all blow over soon. She had read before, as a little girl, that sometimes unseen forces (like fairies) liked to cause a little mischief.

But what are the odds of that?

She chuckled. She knew she should be worried about her husband, but she honestly found all this to be hilarious. These two men had been sworn enemies since they laid their eyes on each other, and now they suddenly act like they’re a pair of lovestruck courters?

Hey, Alexander already goes on hour long tirades about the Secretary of State. The only difference now is Eliza doesn’t have to worry about permanently damaging her ears.

Heck, the fact that those two even began writing each other pages upon pages of love letters was oddly endearing to her.

Angelica insisted on keeping them, of course. If this situation was temporary, then these letters could be held above their heads. Though she knew her sister meant it was for when the young Schuyler wanted to get her husband to take a break, she couldn’t help but wonder how else she could use the bundles of love.

“One mile to every inch of,

Your skin like porcelain”

Eliza opened an eye to see her husband’s side of the bed empty. Ah, it must be that time again. They had eventually stopped trying to prevent the two from seeing each other, they were mostly harmless anyway. But they still tried to keep them at least a few meters away at all times to prevent scarring any more children.

“One pair of candy lips and,

Your bubblegum tongue”

She sat up in bed to watch Alexander by the window, sitting and looking comically in love. The voice that woke her up continued, singing a hilariously offkey rendition of some serenade he’s probably made up.

“Alexander.”

Said man turned to face her, his face going from joy to guilt. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Tell Thomas to go home, Alexander. You need to get some sleep.” She murmured gently, beckoning for him to come back to bed.

“Mon loupe, your voice brings me eternal joy whenever you are around. ‘When love speaks, the voice of all the gods makes heaven drowsy with harmony.’ However, as much as it pains me, I must take my leave, my love. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Of course, darling.” Thomas blew a kiss to his Juliet, before standing up. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

Though Eliza’s heart would ache whenever her husband’s attention was turned towards Jefferson, she knew in her heart of hearts that the way Alexander’s eyes gazed at her during the tenderest of moments was reserved only for her.

He kissed her forehead before going back to sleep, a gesture he hasn’t done in so long. Eliza stared at her husband in surprise, before settling in herself. A smile gracing her lips.

“Une orange sur la table,” Thomas murmured against Alexander’s neck, sucking on the junction where his neck met his shoulder. The Virginian’s fingers working to unbutton the immigrant’s green vest as he reveled in his pleasured moans. “Ta robe sur le tapis,”

Alexander’s vest and robe had both fluttered to the floor, Thomas leaning in to capture his little love’s lips in a searing kiss. “Et toi dans mon lit.”

“-mas, where are you? Thomas, we’re meeting with Washingto-oly Mother of God!”

James’ scream caused a couple more footsteps to round the corner. George Washington rushed in, thinking the worst as James was mostly a soft spoken man. His eyes landed on the couple on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m terribly sorry, Senator Burr, I have to deal with this for a moment. If you’d like, James can escort you to another room for now.”

The man in question walked out the room with his eyes wide and his face redder than it normally is. He didn’t even stop to look at the newest addition to the team, he just walked off, murmuring to himself in disbelief.

“I wanna be in the room where it happens…” Aaron whispered, the pull of curiosity winning him over. Finally, he was able to know what happens in The Room.

Slowly, he opened the door ever so slightly, his gaze roaming around before his eyes landed on three figures.

George trying to pry a half naked Jefferson off of an almost naked Hamilton, and is that–?!

“Sweet Jesus.” Slowly closing the door back to its previous position, Aaron walked off, his eyes wide and trained on the floor. What the hell did he sign up for? Because it certainly wasn’t this.

“Actually…I don’t want to be in the room where it happened.”

“So as I was saying-“

“I’m sorry, Mr. Burr, sir, I’ll let you finish, but I just want to say that Thomas had a better declaration. A real nice declaration, in fact.” Hamilton was allowed back into a meeting with Jefferson, everyone agreeing that two cabinet meetings was far too taxing to sit through.

However, now, they’re seriously reconsidering just keeping two meetings a day. Nobody tried to stop the couple from their public fits of passion, no one even gave them so much as a glance.

At this point, everyone just chose to go on with their lives instead of understand whatever it is that happened with the Jamilton duo. But this was getting ridiculous

“Thank you, doll~”

Smooching sounds.

James stared at the ground, still trying to get the image of his friend and his enemy getting it on a week ago.

“I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, mon loupe.”

Then suddenly, as if a veil had been lifted, a disgruntled Alexander pushed an equally disgruntled Thomas from him.

“wHAT THE FuCK ArE YOU DoiING YOU SICK fRENCh FreAK!!!”

The screeching threw them all off guard, everyone’s heads snapped to the couple, seeing Alex about to punch the man who he’d been cavorting with for almost a month now.

“Alexander!” George’s voice rang above their cacophony; strong, clear, and commanding. “Opposite sides, the both of you. Now.”

Begrudgingly, they both stalked off to opposite sides, glaring so fiercely at one another, Burr was surprised smoke wasn’t emitting from thin air.

“Meeting adjourned. Everyone please leave.” Thomas and Alex tried to subtly escape. “Except for you two.”

They moved back into the meeting room, Alexander looking a little green, Thomas looking thoroughly disturbed.

“Mind explaining to me what was going on?” George asked, his tone tired and defeated. What the hell was happening with these two boys?

“All I know is Jefferson started it! He kissed me, sir!”

“I kissed you?! You’re the one who threw yourself on me! Have you no brain nor any modicum of decency?!”

“Alright, enough!” For the nth time, the exasperated leader of the great America pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two have gone and done just about every damn thing under the sun in front of myself and the cabinet, even in front of your wife and son, Alexander.”

At this, the younger man shirked in embarrassment, the memories flooding back to him. He felt his ears burn as the skin under his face lit up with the flames of humiliation. Both parties sneered at the other, suddenly filled with seething hate and shame.

“But Jeff-”

“So help me God, if I have to pry you two away from each other whether in passion or rage, I will be the one to show both of you where my shoe fits. Do I make myself clear?”

“But Mr. Preside-”

“I swear to God Jefferson, that swivel chair of yours will find a new home up your ass if either of you defy me. Do I make myself clear?!”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

A pair of gleeful eyes watched as the two ex-lovers walked out of the establishment, Alexander’s eyes glued to his shoes as he paled with mortification. He got into a flustered argument with a group who must have mention his previous romps with a certain Virginian.

The eyes then turned to the other man who, although held his head up high, lacked the air of confidence and cockiness usually associated with him. He tried to get his partner in crime to talk to him, but it seemed Madison still couldn’t scrub his mind free from what he saw.

A cat-like smirk accompanied the pair of eyes. It looks like she ruffled his feathers, that’s for sure.

Thomas looked around cautiously, as if something was out to get him. She saw his hand shakily grip his cane tighter, causing a chuckle to escape her red-painted lips.

Stepping out of the shadows, the young, voluptuous woman let the sun bathe her already sun-kissed skin and beautiful chocolate curls.

Alexander had already hurried home after Fighting™ some loose lipped groupies, hoping to make things right with his wife. Thomas was now walking away with a very tired looking James as he tried to comprehend what his friend was confiding in him.

“When I ask you to stay, you stay, Thomas.” She murmured, smoothing her red dress before blending into the crowd.

“How dare you say no to this?”

BONUS!

“Eliza, please!” The immigrant begged, his eyes welling with tears. How could he let this happen?

“I’m sorry Alexander.” She stared down at his slumped form with pity before bubbling up again with laughter. “I just.. I don’t think that for one second you were ever the dominant one in that relationship.”

“That’s not true, Eliza!” He whined, pouting dejectedly. “You don’t think that, do you, Angelica?”

“Sorry, Alex, your love letters say otherwise,” The older Schuyler showed him one such letter. “You sounded whipped. He even called you his Juliet. Doesn’t sound like the dominant one to me.”

“I’LL KICK THAT FRENCH FRY LOVING BASTARD TO NEXT WEEK”

“Alexander, he was the one on his knees, serenading you in the yard. I highly doubt resulting to physical violence changes anything. Besides, everyone in this room, even your son, Alexander, knows he was the one trying to slip your pants off.”

Philip paled and ran out of the room, chanting “Hear no evil, see no evil” over and over to himself.

“ELIZAAAA”

(and Peggy)

FIN

(PS The thing TJeffs is saying as he’s thoroughly ravishing Alex is from a poem by Jacques Prevert titled “Alicante”. )

[gorocult]

Victuuri week day 5: family

Victuuri Week 2017: Day 5- Victor: Anniversaries / Yuuri: Family / AU: Crossovers

Title: Gardenia

Author(s): Ayainu

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: I wrote this one go without rereading I’m sorry for inconsistency or errors. I will edit this the first chance I get. I don’t think any warnings apply, otayuri is in this story, fluff and babies? Ah also OCs.

Summary: Yuri and Otabek come over to Yuuri and Victor’s- quoting Victor ‘love den’- to deliver special news. A special guest comes along and from then on it’s only happiness.

Settling down with Yuuri had been almost effortless. After Yuuri won gold they kept true to their word and got married. It was a very beautiful wedding, Phichit was Yuuri’s best man while Victor’s had been Chris. It had been the first time anyone ever witnessed the best man having a pole dance off with the groom but all those things were what made that day even more special than it already unequivocally was.

It’s been exactly ten years since then, they had both retired from professional figure skating. It had been bittersweet at worst. Even now they missed the rink and the rush of landing a jump as the audience cheered, the competitive spirit buzzing between all the skaters. They didn’t totally let go of figure skating though, Victor continued his coaching activities and Yuuri joined him as an assistant coach. Maybe Victor was a good coach to Yuuri but in all honesty he sucked in the spiritual and mental departments. That’s where Yuuri came in.

Together they made champions out of green skaters. Yuuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin still gave no chance for others to get gold or silver, but even they had to retire sometime. Ever since Yuuri and Victor left competitive figure skating it was a constant battle of who wins gold, and according to Yuuri they were tied at the moment. “It reminds me of us,” Victor once said and Yuuri laughed for about half an hour at him, claiming he was starting to truly sound like an old man.

Yuri lived with them for a while, started to right when Yuuri moved in with Victor and moved out about two years after Victor and Yuuri got married. He made it official with Otabek that year and Yuuri took it upon himself to protect them from Victor’s skeptical protective dad phase.

“Hey Victor, aren’t Yuri and Otabek supposed to come over for dinner?” Yuuri asked from further up the aisle where he was picking out some seasonings.

“Yeah, it’s Sunday isn’t it?” Victor asked but checked his phone before Yuuri could. “Yeah it is.”

Victor’s compromise to give Yuri and Otabek his blessing was that they come over every Sunday for dinner. Yuri begrudgingly accepted the demand because despite all that he might say, he really loved their company and over the years of living together they had to have grown on him.

“Let’s make pork cutlet bowl it’s been a while,” Yuuri suggested and proceeded to pick out the right ingredients.

“Perfect!” Victor proclaimed with all his never ending flamboyance.

After ringing up their purchases and paying they split the bags between them and carried them to the car. The second Yuuri buckled up they were on the road.

When they got home they helped each other in sorting it out. After finishing that up they went to the living room. It was still too early to start cooking dinner, so they turned on the TV and didn’t watch anything at all, settling for each others’ lips instead.

“Yuuri do you think we’re going to stop being so ‘mushy and gross’ any time soon?” Victor quoted Yuri, his forehead and nose against Yuuri’s.

“Hm,” Yuuri pretended to think about it, leaning in for a drawn out kiss. “Not until death do us apart.”

“Mm,” Victor murmured thoughtfully against Yuuri’s lips. “I’d like to think we’ll spend the afterlife together as well, reincarnation is a nice thought as well.”

“You’re very sure every single version of me will fall in love with you.” Yuuri chuckled against his lips.

“Yeah we’ve got to be soulmates, no couple loves each other like us.” Victor pushed Yuuri further into the couch his hands starting to roam.

“I think Yuri and Otabek would disagree. I personally think they come close. Not quite though, no one in this whole world loves anyone as much as I love you.” Yuuri’s legs went around Victor’s hips and he buried his hands in Victor’s hair. His fingers laced themselves into the soft silver strands.

“You can’t say things like that when we have to get up to make dinner soon, I can’t be done with you till I spend that entire stamina of yours,” Victor’s lips went to his neck and he bit softly. Yuuri let out a choked breath and tightened his legs around Victor’s hips. He was already starting to get hard.

Victor pulled away completely and Yuuri didn’t even try to hide the whine at the loss the body pressing over him. Victor just laughed. “Hey..” Yuuri murmured, reaching with his arms, trying to coax Victor back into them.

“Yuuri.. that face isn’t fair! Listen after we finish up dinner alright?” Victor compromised, reaching a hand to Yuuri to help him get up.

Yuuri took it unenthusiastically and grumbled something about Victor’s face.

He gave Victor the silent shoulder for a while but stopped after the first splash of sink water hit his face.

“Bring it on old man,” he growled but the smile on his face was bright enough to blind Victor.

They ended up drenched from head to toe with their lips against each other. The katsudon was safely resting in the oven and someone’s hand was already on someone’s waist band. They didn’t even notice the knock on the door and it took them Yuri’s loud “you better not be fucking on the counter again,” coming from the living room for them to stop kissing. They had no time to pull apart though because Yuri was already in the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” Yuri sighed and turned away. “Shower, now.” He motioned to the door. When Yuuri tried to go after Victor Yuri grabbed the back of his sopping shirt. “No, you stay here. We won’t be done till the morning if you go in with him.”

“Who’s idea was it to give him keys to our love den?” Victor muttered from where he was in a few steps into the hallway.

“Yours you old pervert. I will not even acknowledge the fact that you called this poor respectful apartment a ‘love den’,” Yuri ran his hand through his now mid back long hair. “Listen, Otabek’s sister is visiting so we’ll bring her along. I knew the situation would be like this so I came ahead of time. Hurry up and get a quick shower and look presentable. Keep it civil tonight please.”

“That’s great Yuri, I’m sorry about that,” Yuuri had a soft blush on his cheeks as he scratched his the back of his head sheepishly.

“Save it piggy, do my hair.”

Yuuri braided Yuri’s hair and twirled it in a tight bun. He tugged a few strands loose from the braids in the front and hopped Yuri’s nose when he was done, making the younger scrunch it up.

“So how did meeting his parents go?” Yuuri asked. It took them a really long time to feel comfortable enough to tell Otabek’s parents. Cultural differences and norms stood in their way, it was hard enough to tell Yuri’s mom.

“It actually went really well, they were only mad about us keeping it from them for eight years. We actually have something to tell you tonight. We already told Otabek’s parents and my mom.” He was indirectly saying Yuuri and Victor were parental figures for him as well. Yuuri’s heart clenched in happiness.

“That’s great Yuri, I hate to say it but I told you, five years ago too,” Yuuri wiggled his eyebrows at him and Yuri just scowled at him.

“Shut up.”

Victor came back and motioned for Yuuri that the bathroom was clear. Yuuri excused himself and went to shower. After he put on some fresh nice clothes, he made his way back to the living room and motioned for the wrestling duo to come help him set the table.

Just as they finished putting down the last plate a knock came from the door. “I’ll get it,” Yuri skipped to the door and Yuuri looked after him, feeling very warm and fuzzy. A hand reached for his and squeezed, Yuuri looked up at Victor and smiled.

“Otabek! It’s been a while.” They hadn’t seen the couple for two weeks since they were at Almaty on break. Victor went to shake his hand, not smothering him in the usual hug respecting the presence of his sister.

Yuuri trailed behind Victor and reached for Otabek’s hand when Victor moved on to Otabek’s sister.

She was really beautiful, Yuuri noted. A warm tone of skin and dark charcoal like hair to enunciate her sharp grey eyes.

“You must be Otabek’s sister, hello!” Victor reach for her hand as she delicately took it. He reached for Yuuri and Yuuri instinctively folded himself against his side. “I’m Victor, and this is my husband Yuuri. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”

“Thanks,” her voice was soft and heavily accented. “Nice to meet you Mr. Victor, Mr. Yuuri,” a soft flush spread its way through her cheeks.

“No need for that, it’s just Yuuri and Victor.” Yuuri waved at her.

After they settled down on the table, Yuuri started to serve the food.

“Asel is a big fan of you too, that’s why she’s being so shy,” Otabek looked over at his sister and rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even say your name.”

“B-Bek!” She hissed, her face tomato red. Yuri’s shoulders were shaking in silent laughter.

“Beka, as crass as ever,” Yuri’s smile were not very compliant with his criticism.

“What! No need to be shy honey, you’re already family.” Victor said, completely getting off topic.

“That’s actually the meaning of her name,” Otabek pitched in and Yuri was dying of laughter.

“When did you learn Kazakh Vitya?” Yuuri looked confused. As if it was even possible Yuri laughed harder. Otabek glanced at him, very amused. Asel just buried her face in her hand to hide her blush.

“Anyways, I’m not family,” she finally said, changing the subject to shut Yuri’s wheezing up. “Yet, isn’t that right brother?”

That shut the both of them right up. Even Yuuri and Victor sobered up and cast curious glances between each other.

Yuri and Otabek fidgeted a bit under the table before they pulled out their now interlaced hands up for Victor and Yuuri to see.

Just as they noticed the glinting metal Otabek’s voice cut through any choked conclusion they could’ve come up with. “We decided to get married.”

Tears spilled down both Victor’s and Yuuri’s faces as they clambered out of their seats to collect the newly engaged couple in a hug. After a lot of sobbing and congratulatory words, Yuuri went up to put their now cold meals in the microwave to heat.

Otabek’s sister marveled at the taste and Yuri dug up old katsudon related memories. Yuuri hid his face in his hands as they brought back his ‘i’m pork cutlet bowl fatale that enthralls men’ phase and after some more jabs at him and Asel, he decided that he’s going to be her comrade in this world against teasing family members.

After clearing the plates and getting some Alenka bars for dessert, the engaged couple and Asel had to go since her flight was early tomorrow morning. Yuuri and Victor sandwiched her in a hug and whined at her to come back soon and to have a safe flight. They also gave final congratulatory and pride filled words to Yuri and Otabek and told them that they one million percent had their blessing.

After they closed the door and locked it, Yuuri and Victor went back to bed, dazed and warm. As they cuddled in the soft bed, with Victor’s fingers tracing patterns on Yuuri’s back and Yuuri’s hands playing with Victor’s hair, Yuuri suggested quietly, “Do you think it’s time we adopt a child?”

“Are you actually feeling competitive?” Victor gaped at him dramatically.

“Idiot, I am not,” Yuuri muttered. “I just feel like now that our single child has left the nest, it’s time we find a way to fill the aching void.”

“You could’ve said that when he moved out.” Victor wiggled his eyebrows at Yuuri, totally unconvinced.

“Alright maybe a little but I’m still serious, do you want to?” Yuuri implored.

“Of course I want to,” Victor chuckled, his nose going to nuzzle Yuuri’s neck.

“I want a girl, Asel is so very sweet I want to adopt a child as soft and cute as her,” Yuuri demanded.

“Oh so that’s the other half,” Victor deduced and Yuuri didn’t deny. “The cutest girl in the world is going to be our daughter. We can show her off to all the poor unsuspecting children in the rink.”

“Just don’t scare them away if they try to make friends, it’s a miracle Otabek didn’t run when you filled his bike with sticky notes full of threats.

“I can’t promise anything, I’m scared my baby daughter will get eaten up by the hyenas.” Victor shuddered melodramatically.

Yuuri just sighed. They did end up adopting a daughter, she was the cutest creature in the entire universe, probably no bias included. And hilariously enough, Victor ended up not having to intervene in any relationships since their cute child came out to them as an asexual aromantic when she turned sixteen. Just like Yuri, her looks were cute but her tongue was sharp, she always called them gross and quickly became Yuri’s favorite while Yuri became her favorite part of the family.

Yuri and Otabek also adopted an adorable set of identical twins, most of the time Victor couldn’t tell the boys apart but Yuuri always did. Their daughter became a sort of big sister to them, even though they were only a couple of years younger than her.

They always went on picnics with Yuri and Otabek’s family and let the children play together, so naturally they grew very close.

While their daughter quickly found her interest in skating, her fathers being instructors and all, the twins’ paths diverged. After retirement Yuri became a ballet instructor while Otabek settled for teaching, since he did study university while skating. He even went as far as getting a master’s degree in history and quickly climbed up to become a university professor.

The twins were very deeply connected, and did everything together even when they grew up. It was kind of shocking for them to have different interests for the first time, but while the elder seemed very interested in volleyball, the youngest seemed extremely invested in music.

At the end they all went their own paths, even their daughter didn’t end up taking a career in competitive skating and ended up becoming a precessional hockey player, which Yuuri and Victor were very proud of. They should’ve seen it coming with her fierce personality.

The eldest twin didn’t end up taking a career in volleyball either, and actually went to a very strong university abroad to study medicine. Yuri and Otabek were so proud and simultaneously sad about him having to leave. It got even worse when his brother tried his hardest to get a record label to sign him where his brother was, it seemed to be very excruciating for him to have to live without the other half of their duo with him. When their youngest followed their eldest there Yuri and Otabek followed them as well.

Overall their lives were beautiful, and they couldn’t have asked for any more as they grew old and grey together.

[youtube-and-shtuff]

We’ve Got Magic To Do- Chapter Three

Here it is, after long last. Enjoy!

You can read it here, or on Wattpad 

(Chapter One and Synopsis) (Chapter Two)

As always, thanks to @thenwhosflyingtheplane for the prompt and @fantasylegion for all the help and advice

Simon

I’m on the green room couch an hour before rehearsal is supposed to start. Unsurprisingly, my total hours of sleep amounted to a grand total of three. I find myself drifting off on the couch; it’s quiet and the couch is plush and welcoming. My eyes struggle to remain open. I give in, letting my eyelids droop down and my head fall further into the throw pillow. I might just be able to get a good nap in before I have to act like the most high energy person I’ve ever seen for my character in Pippin. I turn over, ready to sleep.

“You’ll never guess who got pneumonia!” Penny practically shouts. I groan and turn back over.

“No, I probably won’t,” I mumble.

“Gareth.” That one word is enough to wake me up like a double shot of espresso.

“Penny, tell me you didn’t spell him so he’d get sick.”

“No! After you left, it got late and Gareth and I stayed to run a scene. After we wrapped up and Gareth was gathering his things, it started drizzling and I knew that this boy who I’d just done a miserable scene with had to walk back to Mummers so I hid his jumper.”

“You’re kidding.” Penny shakes her head. “Do you know how painful it is to have pneumonia? You really shouldn’t have done this.”

“Do you know how painful it would’ve been to have Gareth play Pippin during the actual show? It’s for the greater good. Now, we’ve still got a good hour before rehearsal so you better go brush up on your lines.”

“I don’t know whether to thank you or annoyed with you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me. Just get me roses for opening night and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal. Now let me take a nap.”

“But you’re going to be Pippin-”

“Penny, let’s be honest here. I know those lines forwards and backwards by now.”

Penny shrugs and leaves me so I can get some sleep. Finally, alone at last. I think as I nestle my head into the pillow. Silence falls quickly, and sleep follows close behind.

A theater. The stage lights are on, house lights are off, and it’s a full house. I look down and I’m wearing the Pippin costume. I recognize the scene: it’s the one where I’m supposed to kiss Agatha, or well, Agatha’s character. I turn to Agatha, and she’s facing away from me, singing. When she turns around to say the line before we kiss, it isn’t her face. The eyes are shockingly uninterestingly blue, unlike her own eyes. She kisses me and my eyes flutter shut. The kiss is indescribably perfect and romantic and even though we’re on stage in front of hundreds of people it just feels like it’s the two of us. When I pull away, there’s no hint of Agatha. Her blonde hair is black. Where the hair should be straight and short it’s now long and wavy and it meets in a widow’s peak on the forehead. Agatha isn’t even Agatha. She looks more boyish, and I find myself being more attracted to this version of her. Her lips curl into a smirk.

“Baz?”

I wake up with a jolt. What the hell was that dream? I throw my legs off the couch and get up as quickly as I can. The word “why” repeats in my head as I force myself over to the water fountain and splash water on my face.

I wish I could say that, after that moment, I stopped thinking about him and the dream. Not even close. When I walk around every corner, I pray to Merlin I wouldn’t run into him. When I’m onstage, I look everywhere except the orchestra pit. I’m a mess. Where I lost a night of sleep over fear a little while ago, I’m more afraid I’ll lose a night of sleep tonight over thinking about the dream and whatever weird infatuation my subconscious has.

Other than that, the rehearsal goes off without a hitch. Well, except for the awkward between me and Agatha. Not even dream induced awkward, awkward from me and her having to pretend to be intimate. I don’t know how we got so far apart. Not that I have loads of time to think about that though; I’m onstage more often than not.

It’s an odd feeling, not getting much of a rest for all of the rehearsal. On one hand, it’s nice to be needed and to be playing the main character. On the other hand, it’s very hard to do after getting three hours of sleep.

It’s not just my lack of sleep that makes playing Pippin so surreal. People who would’ve never spoken to me otherwise now give me a thumbs up in the hallway, or stop me on my way to the water fountain to compliment my singing voice, or ask me if I want to hang out sometime. Penny keeps looking over at me in a knowing way. Even though she isn’t saying I told you so, she’s totally saying I told you so. To avoid her glance I just bury my head further into my script. So much so, in fact, that I almost miss my next entrance. I miraculously tune back in at the right moment and haul arse to the stage.

All of this almost seems too good to be true.

Well, except for the fact (or maybe, including the fact) that I haven’t seen Baz’s mischievous face around all day. And that’s saying something because it’s a 3-9 rehearsal and it’s already 6:43. I take a glance down to the orchestra pit, which I had been avoiding looking at all day. Baz isn’t even there, which makes everything worse.

“Where is he?” I find myself thinking when I should definitely be focusing on the scene at hand. “Did I lock the door to my dorm room? Could he have figured out we live in the same dorm and be destroying my room right now? Or worse, booby trapping it?” How am I going to sleep tonight knowing that there might be a murderer under the bed?

I finish the last song and make a bolt for the couch in the green room. I know very well that, for multiple reasons, I am not going to get any sleep tonight. I set to getting ahead on rest. I text Penny to grab me some dinner from the lobby (where I’m supposed to be right now) so I can eat it later. Dinner break is 45 minutes long. Maybe it’s not technically enough for a full sleep cycle, but beggars can’t be choosers.

I start drifting off when the thought occurs: What if Baz is hiding somewhere in the theater?

My eyes shoot open and adrenaline courses through my veins. I’m not so tired anymore. If I were to fall asleep on this couch, I could be killed if Baz was in the mood. Not only does the green room door not have a lock, I also don’t have anyone else back here with me or a defense weapon. With everyone at dinner, I’m left alone in this room, vulnerable to Baz’s murderous whims.

I text Penny a quick “nvm” and head out to the lobby to get some food.

During tech week, we have two nights with dinner involved. Tonight is pasta night. The food comes from the kitchen, of course, but one of the chefs is friends with the Hag and throws extra spices into the sauce. Tech week pasta has to be my favorite pasta. For a moment, I’m sort of glad that Baz forced me to not miss out on this. But of course, then I remember the murder weapons and the possibly-poisonous muffin and the gratitude fades.

I grab a plate of ravioli and garlic bread and sit by Penny. Her mouth is full, but she gestures at her phone and furrows her brows at me.

“I was going to nap but then I remembered it was pasta night,” I lie. Penny nods enthusiastically, gives me a thumbs up, and swallows. She picks up her water bottle and takes a sip. I hope it isn’t poisoned, for her sake and my own. Merlin this boy’s got me paranoid. I feel sorry for whatever person those hearts were drawn for. Penny puts her water down again, and I wait a split second. Not cyanide, at least.

“You haven’t seen Baz, have you?” I ask.

“No, why?”

“Dunno, just seems a bit odd that he’s not around on the second to last rehearsal before the show. I mean, the orchestra’s doing fantastic, but everyone needs the practice.”

“Could’ve gotten sick. Gareth did.”

“Gareth had help.” Penny smiles.

“Listen up everyone!” The Hag shouts from the lobby. “I’m sorry to cut your dinner short, but we don’t have enough time left in the rehearsal for notes and another run of the show, so I’m going to do notes now. Everyone gather around, or at least turn around to face me.”

Everyone either stands or shuffles around. I take the opportunity to pop back to the table and get seconds on pasta. When I sit back down, Penny takes a glance at my plate and rolls her eyes.

“Excellent. Okay, so Simon,” the Hag says. I look up so fast my neck starts to hurt. A note? For me? I could get used to this. “For the first scene, I could see the energy in your face but could you extend it to your arms?” I nod, and the Hag moves on to give someone else a note. The rest of her notes unfold in that sort of way: me, someone else, me, someone else, me, ensemble, me, Agatha etc. etc.

I know this is a terrible thing to say, but Merlin am I glad that Gareth got pneumonia.

Before I know it, the rest of the rehearsal has come and gone. Baz never walks in, much as I stare at the theater door expecting him to. Or the stage door. Or the green room door. Or the tech closet door. Needless to say, it’s a long and vigilant rest of the rehearsal.

I have half a mind to go up to Mr. Webber and ask him if he’s seen the bloke around all day. As much as I want to hate him because Baz seems to like him, he’s a brilliant conductor. He helped me out and quickened to my pace even though tonight was my first shot at singing anything with them. I almost wonder whether he’s relieved. Who knows, maybe it was harder to match tempo with the chronically inconsistent Gareth and Mr. Webber’s secretly routing for me. I sure hope so.

With everyone packing up to go home, I spot Mr. Webber packing up his baton and sheet music. All the orchestra kids are busy in the pit doing much of the same. I pluck up my courage and go towards him.

“Hello, Mr. Webber.” He looks up, recognizes me and grins whole heartedly.

“Oh, hey Simon! How can I help you?”

“Sorry to bother you, but have you seen Baz around?”

“I saw him a while ago. Poor thing, he got his fingers stuck in a door and had to go to the infirmary. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to… uh…” As any sense of an excuse escapes me, I feel the weight of Webby’s confused gaze. Think, Simon, think. Just say something. Anything is better than what you’ve got going at the moment. Mr. Webber leans in a little closer with his eyebrows raised quizzically.

“Yes?”

“He gave me the rest of his muffin yesterday. I wanted to thank him.” Of all things to say, where the bloody hell did that one come from??? I mean sure he had a muffin yesterday, but he certainly didn’t give me it. Before I can think more disapproving thoughts at myself, Webby shrugs off my comment to make his own.

“Okie dokie. I could let him know next time I see him. He said he’d come back by the theater to get the orchestra notes after he got his hand looked at.”

“Sure! Thanks!” At this point I’ve given up making my words satisfy my actual intent. My only mission now is to make any combination of syllables that will get out of this conversation sooner. My last sentiment seems to do the trick, and I’m out of there.

Now to find Baz. This isn't over.

Baz

The blond boy is elusive to me. I stay up the rest of the night with a pad and paper, trying to connect the dots to make them make sense, but nothing comes of it. Sure, he took my papers that I doodled on and found out there were hearts. Why would he even think of doing that? What’s his M.O? He confronted me in the dressing room, but nothing came of it. Was he trying to confront me for doodling hearts, or for something more serious? His tone sounded more serious. He’s such a talented theater kid, too. He loves the production, loves the people he’s around, yet he seems to focus on me.

What is that about?

I finally fall asleep with my notebook and pen right beside me. When I wake up, I see that last night, I amassed a pile of discarded papers both in and around my waste basket. I take a shower, and no answers come to me. (Which is odd, seeing as that’s normally my most productive thinking space.) I proceed to school, where even though I theoretically don’t have time to be thinking about such things, I find myself drifting off. I zone out during lectures, when we read in class, and even during lunch. This is so unlike me, and I hate it.

I need to confront him, and fast. He doesn’t get to make my school work suffer. I won’t let him have this power over me. I look around the cafeteria, and I don’t spot him. He must’ve already left the cafeteria. Alright, theater it is.

After the rest of what has become a very long school day, I get to go to musical rehearsal. I am so relieved to be heading to what has become my second home, I end up running there and arrive fifteen minutes early. Not many people are there. The door is locked, but Webby’s already inside and lets me in.

He hands me a gummy worm from a zip lock bag he had in his pocket. Noticing my quizzical expression, he adds, “The early bird always gets ‘em.” I laugh at his joke in spite of myself.

Together we walk to the theater door, and I open the door for Webby. Not thinking twice about it, I rest my fingers in between the door and the wall. After Webby walks past me, the door shuts suddenly and my fingers are crushed. I let out an inhuman noise and Webby rushes back. He opens up the door, freeing my fingers, and I crumple down to the floor.

“Lemme take a look at it,” Webby offers, and I stick out my hand. “Oooh that does not look good. Can you bend your fingers?” I attempt to bend them again but all that comes from it is another inhuman noise from my mouth. “Alright, that’s a bust. I think you should go down to the infirmary there, Baz. I hereby dismiss you from violin work for the day.” I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off. “Conductor’s orders,” he says firmly. I nod, and accept Webby’s hand to help me up off the carpet.

So much for confronting him and clearing my head.

I lug my violin and my atrophied hand out of the theater, and as I walk out, I see the blond boy fast approaching. Out of terrible instincts, I lunge for the bushes. He doesn’t notice me.

“Hey, Simon!” a girl behind him calls. Simon. Good to know.

He still doesn’t notice her and she runs to catch up to him. As she comes into view, I see that she isn’t that girl who usually hangs out with him. Also Simon must be wearing headphones. She taps him on the shoulder and he nearly jumps out of his skin. Before they start any audible conversation, they disappear into the theater. I take a look in both directions before emerging from the bushes, then make my way to the infirmary.

After a sluggish hour in the infirmary filled with pitied looks, ice, and bandages, I start the slow trek back to my dorm. I can’t believe I missed orchestra today. I send a text to Finn, hoping that maybe he can make me feel better.

How’s the rehearsal?

Five minutes later comes the reply.

MATE, you’re never going to believe this- that shit Pippin got pneumonia or smth and got replaced by the blond

Fucking figures I miss the one day when something interesting happens. Well, at least it’s pneumonia so I’ll be able to watch Simon do the show tomorrow. Not like Gareth’s getting better any time soon.

For now, I resign to settling into my dorm and trying to get some homework done. Halfway through, I get another text from Finn. A video of Simon singing Pippin’s solo.

HE’S SO GOOD, Finn sends right after.

Agreed.

I get no further reply, and decide now is as good a time as any to get dinner.

It’s pasta night, which makes me wish I was back at the theater. But at least here Simon can’t bug me, or hunt me down or whatever. I almost pick up my phone and ask Finn for a report but then I remember Finn would never let me hear the end of it.

By the time I’m back at my dorm, the pasta is cold. Just another way it’s worse than Mrs. Hagwood’s. I check the clock, and it’s already 8 o’clock. Rehearsal will be over soon, so I may as well start walking now.

Mate, do you want me to bring your notes to the dorm?

I have to stop myself from texting a “no” in all caps back to him. I can’t miss going back to the theater. I was gone for a day and I’m already homesick. Or, theater-sick. And besides, maybe there’s leftover pasta.

I wait a minute, and then text back a calm Nah I’m alright. Thanks though.

I grab my coat and start the trek to the theater. People head the opposite way on the path, so I can only assume rehearsal’s over. No matter though, Webby is waiting for me.

He’s not the only one though. Apparently Simon is also waiting for me, or at least, waiting for something. He’s standing in the lobby looking at posters when I arrive, and when he sees me come through the door he practically does a double take. He also takes off towards the stage door right after. Smooth.

I shrug it off and go into the theater. Sure enough, Webby is packing sheet music into his binder right by the orchestra pit. He calls up to me before I get halfway down to the pit.

“Hey! How’s the hand?”

“Much better. Nurse insisted I just jammed my fingers but still made me stay in the infirmary for an hour. I don’t think they get much action there.”

“Well that’s good to hear. Here are those notes,” Webby says, handing me some binder paper with his scrawl over it. He pauses, as if there’s something more.

“Thanks.” He still doesn’t say. “Is there, er, anything else?”

“Simon, the actor who plays Pippin, dropped by. He was looking for you. He said he wanted to thank you for the muffin.”

“What?” Simon? Here? Looking? For me? This can only mean trouble. And thanking me for the muffin? Oh no. I ate that muffin. I’ll be damn lucky if it didn’t have fang marks in it. I can’t believe he found that, and that he would deliver me a cryptic message through Webby! This is a threat, this is so obviously a threat.

“Baz, is this some euphemism I should know about?” Webby’s voice breaks me out of my daze. It takes me a minute to realize what he’s referring to.

“What? No!”

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow Baz. Try not to stick your hand under any doors, alright?”

“I’ll try my best.” Webby grabs the rest of his papers and leaves. Towards the back of the theater I see Simon. Our eyes meet, and then he tries to pass it off as him looking through the aisles for something he lost. This boy needs a lesson in subtle. But fine. Two can play at this game.

I walk up to him, and he’s so busy pretending to look that he doesn’t notice.

“Lose something?” He jumps out of his skin, and takes far too long to answer. I knew he was spying.

“Uh, yes. I lost my… pencil.” He reaches down and grabs a discarded pencil. “Here it is. Well. See you.” And just like that, he beats a hasty retreat out of the theater.

This isn’t over.

[narrans]

One Shot | September Prompts

EIGHT & NINE | Piqued & Grief

Another few months passed in the so called “Tiny Shelter.” Every few weeks, new arrivals were welcomed into the fold of the makeshift family those at the Shelter formed together. The basement walls were finally cleared out, opening up dozens of rooms for other borrowers. There was talk of turning the entire basement into a city like structure with the right materials, but there was the issue of the basement being useful storage space as well as it being the emergency severe weather shelter. Needless to say, there was buzzing inside of the walls as the borrowers’ lives unfolded.

Outside of the shelter, however, was another matter. With anything, laws and opinions took time to form. Arguments dragged on for weeks. Paperwork was a constant hinderance. Even if everything went perfectly, there was still the potential of arriving too late. Things had gone faster recently, but never seeming to be fast enough.

Logan had found himself spending more and more time immersed in legal texts. There were inconsistencies and loopholes which he was able to expose, something his human counterparts were eternally grateful for as were some of his borrower friends, Virgil and Patton being his largest supporters. Patton, ever the optimist, encouraged him to keep reading while Virgil, though supportive, always felt it necessary to advise caution when speaking humans. In reality, Logan had only ever spoken to Ali, and usually it was when she came in from her shift and he felt an urgency to inform her of his discoveries. It felt childish to Logan, not going and speaking to Thomas or the other members of his team like Joan or Talyn. Still, Logan could not summon the courage to speak with them without spending ample time to gauge their reactions. He knew Ali much better than the others and it still took significant gumption to stand up and speak without stuttering. At least, that’s what Logan told himself in the beginning.

In reality, those few months reading legal texts and conversing with Ali revealed to Logan that she had indeed become a friend. He found himself coming around before Ali left for work, if she needed to work, and speaking with her about books and various current events. He had become more comfortable speaking with her over this expanse of time than with some of his fellow borrowers in the walls – and he found he was enjoying himself. She was equally intellectual and as she was caring, cautious and yet unintimidated in asking bigger questions, logical and creative. Only a slim portion of the current borrower population in the Shelter could read and write, leaving him intellectually unstimulated. Yet, with a human, he could hold an in-depth conversation about astrology, biology, or forensic mysteries. Ali never ceased to amaze him; unfortunately, the same could be said of her roommate, Hickory.

Hickory, Logan discovered, was a borrower he became quite annoyed with through minimal interaction – but only when she was with Ali. On her own, Hickory was a bit of a nuisance, but she was willing to go the extra mile behind the scenes, whether it be for another borrower or for Ali. When with Ali, however, Hickory’s personality intensified. She was a little louder than most borrowers, but she would blatantly shout and scold Ali for seemingly nothing in particular. Hickory was bold when it came to clearing out spaces and new rooms, but with Ali she was reckless. Logan had lost track of how many times, when he was conversing with Ali, that Hickory would take a running leap off of the ceiling fan without a safety line or throw thumbtacks at Ali just to get a reaction. Hickory was never afraid of letting someone what she thought about them and, sometimes, she was polite about it; but, she would ruthlessly tease or chastise Ali. Hickory also had no aversion to physical touch, especially when it came to Ali. Hickory often demanded to ride of Ali’s shoulder, her hoodie, or be carried between rooms to interact with other humans. Logan shuddered each time he thought of being at the mercy of a human’s touch, even if that human were Ali.

They had their moments of quiet and thoughtful interactions, Ali and Hickory did. Logan only caught a glimpse of them from time to time, usually when Hickory was apologizing for something she said or did. Without fail, Ali always forgave her and offered a hand so they could go about their day. Logan watched the way Roman and Remus interacted with Thomas and the other Shelter members on a few rare occasions. Not even Roman and Remus, who had quite the rapport with Thomas, interacted quite the same way.

Logan would dismiss Ali and Hickory’s interactions as them simply being good friends if something in the back of his mind weren’t constantly tugging at the mystery before him. His interest was piqued. It was a nuisance for months prior and it was becoming a festering curiosity with every interaction he had with both Hickory and Ali. Still, he kept his questions to himself. The last thing he wanted was an emotional Hickory turning her wrath from Ali to him.

It was evening now. Logan walked the familiar halls, casting greetings only when necessary, toward Ali’s room. Ali would most likely have work tonight, if he remembered her overall schedule correctly. He left a little later than normal and found himself quickening his pace to ensure he did not miss saying good-bye to Ali before she left. He came to the familiar electrical wall covering and pressed it open, his hand no longer trembling as it did a few months prior. He stepped out onto the desk, closing the covering behind him, and into the desk lamp light. Logan scanned the room for a moment. Ali’s bag was hung over the desk chair. The Christmas lights illuminating the books along the shelves were on and giving the room a warm, inviting glow. When his eyes traced over the bed, however, he was surprised to see a familiar figure laying on top of the comforter.

It was Ali.

She was laying very still, almost unnervingly so. Her face was to the wall, back toward the desk. The white, opaque curtain was slightly drawn over the bed, so Logan stepped closer to the edge so his keen eyes could pick up on her gentle inhalation and exhalation. Breathing was a good sign. Was she sleeping? So close to when she needed to leave? Had her alarm not gone off?

“Ali?” he called. There was no response. It wasn’t like Ali to not respond. She must be asleep. Logan was now torn. He wanted to respect Ali’s privacy, just as she had done for everyone in the Shelter, yet he would feel incredibly guilty if she had slept through her alarm and he did not offer his aid. Better safe than sorry, he elected to make sure she was ready for work. He jogged across the desk to the very edge where a small bridge like structure extended from the edge of the desk to her bedside table.

“Ali?” he called again, a little louder this time. Now that he was closer, he could better see through the gossamer curtain. Ali’s breath was not as even as he originally thought. It sounded tense and shuddering. Her shoulders quaked slightly. Was she afraid? Was she having a nightmare? Logan knew there were shelves next to the bed, the top shelves Hickory often used as her room, but there were access panels from inside the walls which would come out right next to the bed. Logan shook the thoughts away. He elected, instead, to stand on the bedside light switch and flick it on and off. The sudden light change did the trick. Ali’s head adjusted on the pillow and she twisted around, slightly startled, to see Logan standing on the switch. Logan felt his jaw slacken slightly as he took a half-step backward off of the switch.

Ali’s eyes were slightly red around the rims. Her face was streaked with tears. Ali looked just as stunned to see Logan standing there as he did seeing her upset. Immediately, she reached up and pulled her headphones out of her ears, the logical explanation for why she hadn’t responded to Logan’s calls earlier. She sniffed and reached up with her palm immediately and wiped away the tear streaks along the edges of her cheeks. Ali pulled the curtains apart slightly.

“Hey.” Ali sounded like she was in a breathy daze. Her voice was as soft and sweet as ever, even though her eyes were still slightly misty. “I’m sorry. Did you need me for something? Do you need help, or did you want me to leave?” Logan could hardly believe his ears. Even though Ali was still visibly upset, she was asking if he needed anything and if she should be the one to leave.

“No,” said Logan quickly, a bit too quickly in his opinion. “I… I thought you might have overslept and would be late for work.” Ali smiled, somewhat weakly, but shook her head.

“No, I called in sick tonight. I’m sorry. I should’ve mentioned it yesterday. It just slipped my mind.” Ali made a loose fist with her right hand and gently knocked it against her temple. “Silly me,” she muttered. Logan felt his brow furrow, unconvinced at Ali’s attempts at lightening the situation.

“It is quite alright. No need to apologize,” said Logan, feeling suddenly quite concerned for Ali’s current emotional state. “Are… are you alright?” Ali glanced over at Logan and smiled weakly again.

“Yeah. Of course, I’m alright,” her voice trailed off. Logan gave her a disbelieving stare. He even went so far as to fold his arms across his chest. Ali picked up on Logan’s dissatisfied curiosity. She raised her hand again, slowly, and wiped her eyes. “It’s… just…” Ali breathed deeply to calm herself. “It’s my dad’s anniversary. He… passed away ten years ago.” Logan watched Ali’s shoulders deflate. He felt himself inhale sharply, exhaling slowly, and adjusting his stance slightly.

“I’m… I’m very sorry to hear that.” Logan was sincere. The loss of a parent was something he was unfortunately familiar with, and it was something he often tried to push out of his mind, especially recently. Logan himself was living on his own for some time before the borrowers were discovered by the human race and, in all reality, he had no earthly idea where his parents and two older brothers were. He felt his cheeks growing slightly warm, not only with the realization of his own situation, but also Ali’s situation. At first glance, Ali didn’t seem like the kind of person who had suffered the loss of a primary parental unit. He looked away, not wanting Ali to feel self-conscious, which surprised him.

“No, it’s okay. It’s a bit silly, really. It’s been a while ago and so many others have it worse than me,” muttered Ali. Her voice was overcoming her quake. “Sorry.” Logan tensed and stared at Ali for a moment.

“Simply because someone is experiencing something more frequently or recently than you does not negate your current emotional turmoil,” stated Logan. He bit his lower lip for a moment. “It is alright to be sad and to feel upset. It is okay.” He could feel Ali’s eyes glancing at him, a small smile turning the sides of her lips.

“Thank you,” she said. Ali crossed her legs under her and allowed her shoulders to slump. After a minute or so of silence, Ali sniffed again and cleared her throat.

“Did… you want the room to read for tonight? I can go down to the living room,” offered Ali. Logan realized after a moment he had shaken his head.

“No need,” he stated. “I wanted to ensure I wished you farewell before you departed but, as it seems, that is unnecessary.” Logan paused. “Instead, should you so desire, I could remain and keep you company and allow you to reminisce unless you prefer to remain solitary. I read in a few of those books and articles you provided that reminiscing can aid a person’s emotional state significantly, unless they’re a habitual worrier in which case it may make their condition worse. As an alternative, I could retrieve someone you may be more comfortable with, perhaps Hickory, to share with. Emotions, especially grief, sometimes require different circumstances to make one feel better.” Logan glanced up at the sound of Ali chuckling lightly.

“That’s really sweet of you,” she said with a bright smile, which brought back that familiar, contagious twinkle in her eyes. “I… I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay; but, if you want to, the company would be nice.”

“Then stay I shall.” Logan realized he was slightly smiling as he elected to sit on the bedside lamp base. He cleared his throat in an attempt to shake the feeling. “Well, I am no expert when it comes to things like reminiscing. Is that what you wish to do? Or, rather, do you want to tell me about your father?” Ali chuckled again as she nodded.

“Um… okay. Well…” Ali’s voice trailed off, memories passing through her eyes in a rapid slideshow. Where could she begin? How could she sum up her father to someone who had never met him? Ali involuntarily spoke in fragments and pieces, as if she were trying to reveal the entire picture of a puzzle by lumping like pieces together. “My dad… well, he was my best friend. He was my mentor, one of the two people who I looked up to. He was funny but he was often quiet. Not that he was shy, but his humor was always perfectly timed. He knew exactly what to say and when to say it, especially if it made the crowd laugh.” Ali paused and inhaled shakily.

“My dad was in the Army, so we moved around a lot, but it was okay. I was pretty good at making friends and I always had my parents. He taught me all of his cool survival skills, so I know about finding water and first-aid; that’s probably what got me into the field in the first place. He was great at math and he loved reading books aloud to me. I remember he would stay up for hours after a long, hard day at work and just read and read until I fell asleep. He had the perfect narrator voice. He actually had to convince my mom to name me Alice, from Alice in Wonderland. That was one of his favorite books, along with ‘The Hobbit.’” Ali paused again. “He… always could see right through me. He had this way of seeing right through any problem I had or anything I didn’t want to talk about and somehow made it better. We could talk about pretty much anything and have a good time with it.”

“It sounds as though you two were very close,” said Logan, entranced by Ali’s description. He was gaining a clear picture of her father. Ali smiled.

“Yeah, we were inseparable. At least, until he needed to go away for his deployments. Even then, he would call or write letters and hide them around the house for me and mom to find,” said Ali. She turned, a little quickly for Logan’s liking, to the shelf behind her and pulled something from one of the boxes. It looked like a piece of laminated paper which Logan identified as a photograph as Ali held it up for him to inspect. The picture was of a tall, toned man with dark hair and bright eyes. He was slightly hunched over in the photograph because he held a girl on his back. She too had bright eyes like his and a smile to inspire others.

“Is this… you? And your father?” asked Logan after readjusting his glasses.

“Yeah. This is right after my sixteenth birthday. We had my birthday party before he went so we could celebrate together…” Ali’s voice trailed off as she turned the picture back to her. Her fingers absent mindedly traced the face of her father, eyes locked in some kind of staring contest. “He died a couple of months later during his deployment.” Ali fell silent as she folded her hand behind the photograph in her lap. “And… something happens every day that I wish I could tell him about.”

“Like what?” Logan asked after a few minutes of saddened silence.

“Well… I would tell him about my work and how many people I helped. I would tell him about this place and about the work I do here. I would probably tell him about Hickory and my fellow bibliophile,” Ali glanced up at him and gave him a small wink, making his ears feel uncomfortably warm. “I’d ask him about what to do and how to fix what’s going on with the laws and regulations. I’d tell him about me and mom…” Ali paused at this point. She didn’t realize she was rambling and, with the last piece, she retreated into herself, as though she had spoken too much. Logan, however, found himself curious again.

“What about your mother?” Logan asked cautiously. Ali glanced away, head slightly tilted with reluctance. “Apologies, I did not mean to overstep any boundar…”

“No.” Ali cut his statement off short. “No. It’s alright. It’s… My mom and I don’t really get along anymore.”

“Really?” Logan found himself genuinely astonished. “I am having a difficult time conceiving the notion that someone would have a hard time getting along with you. You’re certainly quite agreeable with the residence here.” At this, Ali actually laughed. It was a little louder than Logan anticipated, but seeing a smile and hearing a laugh was preferable to seeing tears and hearing sobs.

“I know, right? But, really, I have my difficult moments, but I’d rather keep the peace than make waves. Anyway… I don’t know. We were closer than ever after dad’s death. It was right before I started going to college that she found someone else who made her happy like dad did.” Ali sighed as she placed the picture of her and her father back into the cubby by her bed. “I thought it was a good thing. He seemed nice enough. Plus, she wouldn’t be alone and she could be happy; but she ended up marrying this guy and something changed. She started getting into bad things because of him and now, somehow, a lot of bad choices she made are my fault. I don’t know…”

“I… I’m sorry,” muttered Logan, to which Ali shrugged.

“It’s okay. That’s family. And… I guess we all deal with grief in different ways, right? I like talking things out. Thomas is more a silent, insightful reflector. Roman is… well, he’s Roman. Even Hickory has her ways.” Ali glanced back to Logan, finding his eyes instantly. She had a quirky smile notched in the corner of her lips. “For not being an expert, you’re really good at this.” Logan couldn’t help the small flare of pride in his chest.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you. This… it’s just… thanks.” Logan bit his lower lip and looked away. Then, a thought occurred to Logan, which sent his mind reeling. Hickory had her own coping mechanism. Grief did have an interesting way of presenting itself. Was that why their relationship dynamics were so different? Before Ali could ask him anything about his own family, as he suspected she might, he spoke up.

“Is that why Hickory behaves the way she does with you?” Logan could not find the strength to stop himself nor take back his question. An uncomfortable silence struck them in the chest. “I… I apologize. I do not know where that came from.” Logan looked away, somehow knowing this must be the answer to why Hickory behaved so differently with Ali than she did with the other humans or borrowers. Grief. Hickory and Ali arrived at the shelter at the same time, meaning they knew one another prior to coming to the Shelter. But rather than seeing Ali’s face twist in anger or offence, Logan watched her fall into a melancholy state disguised by a thoughtful smile.

“I suppose so. That’s definitely one reason,” muttered Ali. Her fingers absently traced her palms where Logan had watched Ali catch innumerable thumbtacks. “But, that’s more of a question for Hickory. She’s the subject matter expert anyway,” Ali chuckled slightly, though it was not her usual laughter.

“Of course, my apologies. I shouldn’t pry.” Logan scolded himself for ruining the conversation; something Ali picked up on and waved away with her hand.

“It’s nothing. Anyway, what is your family like?” Logan, slightly relieved and slightly nervous, began talking about his family in comparatively vague terms. His two older brothers were several years older than himself and, as a result, were able to go out into the human world frequently. His eldest brother often brought things back for Logan to read, as did his father, while his mother and middle brother provided him with necessary skills such as mending and storekeeping. It was his middle brother who taught him some more mischievous activities like moving things around to confuse the humans or showing him how to properly snap mouse traps without harming himself or the food, which was usually fresh, but Logan never really cared for such activities. Ali seemed disheartened when Logan told her he hadn’t seen them in a long time, but he assured her that it was generally the borrower way to strike out on your own with the great possibility you wouldn’t see your family again. Logan described it as a rite of passage, though Ali didn’t seem thrilled about that being a cultural custom.

Their conversation evolved from family to family ties to trees to botany and flowers. These things eventually evolved into a discussion of the stars, something Logan was always fascinated with. After a momentary lull in the conversation, Ali spoke up once again.

“You know, there’s a meteor shower coming up here next week.” Logan’s eyes widened.

“A meteor shower?” Ali nodded, a bit enthused herself.

“It’s supposed to be really nice outside and apparently we’re going to be in just the right spot.” Her voice faltered. She glanced away, almost shyly. “I don’t know if you’d be interested… but do you want to go to the roof sometime on my day off and do some stargazing? Maybe see some meteors?” Logan nearly leapt up in excitement.

“That would be amazing. Personally, I have not had the opportunity to stargaze nor observe a meteor shower. This would be an excellent opportunity to test my knowledge of regional constellations!” He could barely control himself, leaving Ali laughing at the scene.

“Alright then, sounds like a plan,” she said with a smile. It was then that a yawn betrayed them both. A quick glance at the clock showed it was nearly dawn and sleep was necessary. With a quick nod and their customary good-byes, Logan began to leave. Just as Logan reached to electrical cover, Ali called to him again.

“Hey, fellow bibliophile… thanks for staying. I know you didn’t have to. It was nice, staying up and talking. So, thanks for listening.” Logan couldn’t help but cast a smile over his shoulder. Suddenly, he realized a fatal flaw, a severe oversight on his part. Everything happened so gradually and yet so quickly he hadn’t noticed before. Ali never called him by his name. All this time passed and she, not once, had asked him to give up his name.

“Actually,” he said, their eyes meeting once again. “It’s Logan.” Ali turned her head curiously to the side.

“Logan?” she asked. He nodded.

“That is my name. I realized only now you, in your efforts to respect boundaries and not procure information not willingly provided, that you did not ask for me to give up my name.” Ali seemed confused for a moment before realizing it herself.

“Oh gosh, yikes! I’m such an awful friend!” she scolded herself, to which Logan shook his head; but then it struck Ali. “So… you’re giving me your name now?” Logan nodded.

“It seems fitting. We are, as you said, friends, aren’t we?” stated Logan. Ali wrapped her arms around herself, seemingly slightly embarrassed and flattered.

“I’d like to think we are,” she stated softly.

“Well then. Get some rest and I shall see you tomorrow, Ali.” Logan ducked behind the electrical cover and began heading home, but not before hearing a soft call after him.

“You too, Logan.”