#we know if he stayed at that shitty company he’d be miserable but alive !

[cattoru]

you want me to go to work? the thing that killed nanami kento?

#wrote this after a long day of work and it blew up on twitter kjsdnckjdsc #'well teChNicALLy—' nanami died bc he showed up to exorcise spirits which is his job as a sorcerer #we know if he stayed at that shitty company he’d be miserable but alive ! #cattoru's #jjk #nanami #up1k

[star-spangledstud]

Like You

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (Female) Reader.

Word Count: 2800-ish.

Summary: Steve has a really shitty way of saying goodbye. 

A/N: My friend sent me the prompt: “If I knew then what I know now.”. I decided to play around with it and then this happened. 

Warnings: Angst at its finest. Such brief mentions of sex you hardly notice them. Heartbreak. 

You didn’t understand why he didn’t come back to you like he was supposed to. 

It wasn’t like the two of you didn’t have a solid relationship. You complemented each other when you walked into the room, the perfect blend of two different people that had come together as one. You hardly argued, barely even disagreed on matters that concerned the both of you and you never got sick of each other’s company. You were complete, whole when you were with him and he was with you. 

You ate together, trained together, slept together in the same bed night after night. Even as the world burned after the big Snap, you stayed together, thankful every day for the fact that the both of you had made it out alive. You mourned the loss of friends together, tried to overcome the holes in your hearts together. It was an obstacle in the road that paved the way for your lives and you faced it together. When everyone was brought back, you couldn’t have been more grateful, because five years of learning how to rebuild everything had made the two of you stronger, more aware of how much you needed each other to survive. Most importantly, it made you aware of how all you needed to survive was each other. 

A power couple, that’s what they called you. Sun and moon, yin and yang. The perfect balance of work and play, of fun and professionalism. You kept each other moving, kept one another going with words of encouragement and wisdom, forced each other out of bed after half the world had literally vanished in the blink of an eye. It hadn’t been easy, but you expected the strain on your relationship to have been much worse. You got off easy compared to many other people. 

When the two of you first caught wind of the possibility to bring everybody back, of course, you jumped on the bandwagon. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to see your best friends again, for things to go back to the way they were. You knew it would be hard because people had moved on, started new relationships, new careers and had moved house, but you had faith that humanity could overcome it.

You still got chills when you thought of the orange portals that signaled everyone’s return. The distant memory of seeing the people you thought you’d never see again in the flesh for the first time in five years still brought prickly tears to the corners of your eyes, as did the knowledge that Natasha and Tony had given their lives to make it happen. They sacrificed their lives so you could have yours.

You hardly had time to notice the sudden change in Steve’s behavior. You were so busy trying to reintegrate half the population into the current day, that the two of you spent less and less time together. You were in charge of bringing back the positions of SHIELD agents that had vanished and offered your help to them both professionally as well as privately. Some of them had lost their families because they’d moved on and it was very hard on them to realize that five years of life had simply passed them by. 

Steve had been talking about retirement for years. You knew he wanted to finally lay down the shield once and for all and the two of you had been talking about it more and more as time progressed. Finally, he decided to bring the team back to its former glory, to rebuild the facility and to find new possible recruits, before he’d finally call it quits forever. 

Before that could be done, the Infinity Stones had to be returned to their respective timelines. Of course, he was the one to suggest to do it. You’d honestly be surprised if he didn’t offer to do it himself. You told him it was okay because you trusted him and trusted his judgment and if he felt like he could complete the mission successfully, you would stand behind him and support him because that’s what good girlfriends did. 

You remembered the way he gently kissed you before stepping onto that godforsaken platform all too well, the way his hand caressed the side of your face and hair, the squeeze in your shoulder. It was a kiss unlike any of the ones you’d ever shared before, not even the ones he gave you after Tony’s funeral, filled with grief, sadness and need. No, this one was different. You didn’t know it at the time, but you did know it when looking back. 

He was telling you goodbye.

“No,” you cried, “no, no, no!” 

Your arms and legs flailed miserably, chest heaving rapidly up and down in irregular motions. Bucky cringed with how horribly upset and distraught you were, unsure of what the hell he should do about you crying beneath him.

He was sitting on the edge of your bed, rubbing your back in soft, circular motions while you hugged your pillow tight to your chest. Your face was red, tip of your nose glowing and your cheeks were so puffy you looked almost like a clown. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t think words could suffice or make you feel any better. He was probably right. 

“Why?” You choked out, “Why did he leave me?” 

You could hardly breathe without Steve. 

Bucky could hardly understand what you were saying. Every word came out in hiccups, forced to the surface by the tension in your lungs and contracting chest. For a long moment, you stopped breathing. Bucky panicked immediately. His pulse quickened and grip on you tightened. Then, you took a deep, panicked breath of air with a high pitched cry.

All you could think of was Steve, how he glanced at you from his spot in the dead center of the platform. How his lips tightened into a sad line, how his brow creased and his eyes closed just before he disappeared on you forever. You should have fucking known, but how could you? He was everything you ever wanted and you thought you were the same to him. He never even gave you the indication that he was unhappy, that he didn’t love you. That he was going to leave you for her. 

“Shh,” Bucky cooed, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sam showed up at the door, which stood slightly ajar. His head peaked in, eyes following your heaving body and Bucky’s slouched form before resting on his face. Bucky shook his head. Sam quietly left. There was nothing he could do to ease the pain one of his best friends had caused you.

“Get some sleep,” he told you quietly after your sobs had silenced.

“Don’t leave me,” you managed to whimper, grabbing hold of his flesh arm and pulling it down with you.

You needed human contact, couldn’t stand the thought of being alone after being left by the love of your life.  

“Of course,” he replied, biting the inside of his cheek, “I’m not going anywhere, sugar.” 

You slept with Bucky by your side that night, still dressed in the clothes you’d put on while Steve was still lounging in bed that morning. The make-up you’d put on while Steve was in the shower had mostly come off on your sheets and on Bucky’s left shoulder. You clutched his shirt while you dreamt of Steve in short bursts, the desperate need for comfort so dire that you refused to let the man leave when he tried. He was angry too, angry with his best friend for putting the woman he loved so much through such pain. 

You cried as soon as you woke up the next morning, hand sore from fisting Bucky’s shirt all night. Your head hurt terribly, a pressure had built up behind your eyes overnight and it worsened as the day continued. Bucky eventually managed to leave you alone so he could get changed and talked to Steve, who was now an old man instead of the man who’d taken you to Paris on your first anniversary. 

You became indifferent to the saying ‘time heals all wounds’, because it no matter how many days passed you by, it never seized to hurt. Every little thing that reminded you of Steve would send you in a downward spiral. People recognizing you on the street for once being the most beloved Avenger began to walk around you with a wide arch because even they could tell something was terribly wrong with you. Soon enough, they all knew what had happened.

You hardly slept, because images of Steve dancing with Peggy haunted you all night long. Images of him, telling you he’d chosen her instead of you would flood your mind, along with pictures of the two of you when you were happy. You began to question it, all of it and wondered often what would’ve happened if you had been the one to join Tony on his journey back to the 70s instead of him. You wondered if he’d still be here, sleeping soundly next to you with his arms engulfing you in warmth. Now, there was only cold. 

You didn’t have the energy to be productive anymore. Life without Steve was no life and the void of his existence had taken away the importance of everyday tasks for you. Literally, everything you came in contact with reminded you of him, from the cereal you used to eat together to the movies you would watch. You couldn’t go to your favorite coffee place anymore, because that’s where you went to get his morning cup on the weekends. You couldn’t even stand to look your fellow teammates in the eye. They’d become afraid to be around you, walking on eggshells when you ventured out of the depths of your room for food because they were scared of saying the wrong thing. It happened once when Bruce made a comment towards Sam’s shield. His shield. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he said as he watched Bucky carry you back to your room, “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault,” Wanda assured him, “She’s in a lot of pain right now. It could’ve been any of us.”

“Can’t we do something?” Sam asked, hands on his head. 

Wanda shook her head, “We can support her, but she needs time to heal.”

You never knew heartbreak could cause physical pain, but the constant strain on your heart was exhausting. You went through entire boxes of Ibuprofen to ease the constantly looming headaches, but they did very little to ease the dull throbbing of the back of your head. Your eyes were red constantly and your skin didn’t glow anymore. Everything had dulled like Steve had taken your life light with him back to the past, engulfing you in complete darkness.

You’d never find someone like him again because nobody compared to him. 

You often reminisced the good times you experienced with him by your side. The fun you had while sparring in the gym room, climbing on his back as he tried to push you to the floor. You thought back to the many dates you had, fancy candlelit dinners inside of expensive restaurants that involved your favorite flowers at the beginning of the night and passionate sex at the end. You remembered holidays, Tony’s extravagant parties that were mostly just you and him eye-fucking each other in fancy clothing with champagne on your breaths until it was late enough for you to bail so you could fuck for real. 

It was holding his hand, kissing him hard and long on his beautiful mouth before he had to leave for missions that sometimes lasted far too long for both your liking. Placing fingers on his thigh while he was driving and toying with the soft fabric of his jeans higher and higher until he couldn’t take it anymore. It was walking on the beach early enough to see the sunrise and long drives back on the back of his motorcycle, safely hidden away from the world behind tinted helmets.

Now, there was nothing. No hand-holding, no joking around, no fucking each other in the storage closet because you couldn’t wait to get back to your room on the top floor. Nothing but emptiness, cold and dreadful and tiring like a weighted blanket made of snow that refused to thaw under your own body temperature. 

Even when you finally decided to become more active again did the emptiness not leave you. It followed you around like a ghost, always lingering in every corner of every room you entered. Bucky felt sympathy for you, but even he couldn’t help you. You had to pull yourself from the depths of the ocean by yourself, had to swim back to the surface without a life vest or oxygen tank strapped to your back and you constantly felt like you were going to drown. Maybe you already had and this was your purgatory. 

You couldn’t help but regret it sometimes. Getting together with him. It was when that looming darkness engulfed you that you allowed yourself to regret ever getting to meet him. You’d lay in bed at night and pray to the Gods to turn back time just once, allow yourself to make the choice that would’ve prevented you from getting to learn who Steve Rogers was because that choice ultimately led you to fall in love with him.  If only you knew then what you knew now.

You sat by the fireplace alone now, staring at the smoldering embers and the flames that licked slowly burning wood. You watched the trees move in the wind by yourself now, watched the rain drip against the window panes with your knees pulled up to your chest. How could loving Steve Rogers hurt so fucking bad?

“How you holding up, kiddo?” Bucky asked, taking a seat beside you on the couch that directly faced the window. 

“I’m alright,” you responded, voice raspy and dry. 

He offered you a glass of water, which you took gladly. At least someone cared about you despite your efforts to push everyone away.

“I talked to him this morning,” he said finally, “he misses you, I think. Might even regret his decision to leave.” 

Your eyes flicker to Bucky, then fall back on the fireplace, “I miss him too.”

“He asked how you were doing,” he said carefully.

“What did you say?”

Bucky exhaled, “I didn’t lie.”

A comfortable silence fell over you, allowing you to listen to the crackling of the fire and Bucky’s breathing beside you. Sometimes, no words needed to be said for them to be exchanged. You toyed with the shaggy blanket over your lap, twirling the fabric between your fingers. 

“I don’t think he has a lot of time left.” 

You scooted closer to him, allowing your head to rest on top of his torso. He patted your head and drew circles in your hair while you rested your eyes for a moment. You hardly slept the night before and were beginning to feel drowsy. You started napping frequently, finding sleep wherever and whenever you could because your bed was too empty and too large at night. 

“Will you come with me?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I will,” he said, nodding although you couldn’t see it, “I’ll come with you.”

“When?” 

Bucky’s shoulders rose, “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll make time.” 

Maybe you should’ve known that he’d go back to her if the opportunity arose. You’d heard stories, of course, Bucky had told you enough. Steve didn’t talk about her much, except for after her funeral, which he attended alone without telling you. You should’ve known it then with how messed up he was after her death. Should have known that he’d never been able to really get over her. You couldn’t even really blame him, either. She’d been ripped from him when he went into the ice and was already on her deathbed by the time he woke up. For her, a lifetime had gone by. To him, it felt like seconds. It’s how Bucky must’ve felt when he came back after the Snap.

Sitting with him on the couch, you weren’t sure if you would’ve changed things. You had a lot of good times with Steve, they largely overshadowed the bad. He’d made you a stronger person, made you appreciate your talents and weaknesses for what they were and he never made you feel less than your worth. He was a good man, you knew it deep down, but accepting that you might not have been good enough for him was a wound that would never heal, not even as you took your last breath.

Still, a small shimmer of hope began to grow somewhere deep within your chest like a seed had been planted. Laying with Bucky in silence, watching the rain pitter-patter against the window, made you think one thought before sleep engulfed you properly for the first time in months.

Maybe things were the way they were meant to be. 

#steve rogers imagine #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagines #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel #marvel fic #steve rogers fic #captain america imagine #captain america #captain america smut #captain america fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #jammywrites #steve rogers angst #captain america angst

[rosemarylemonades]

Do you want to be helped?

What’s up uhhh here to share this thing I wrote for my creative writing class that got really good feedback and now I really like it and I wanted to put it into the world

It’s about a sad boy named Sage who’s really going tf through it

CW: self-harm/suicide, no explicit descriptions

Monday

           I stared at the mess I’d made for a moment, before breaking my trance and getting the cleaning wipes from under my bathroom sink. The lemon scent of the cleaning wipes quickly overpowered the metallic smell that had filled my nose moments ago.

           I tossed the used wipes in the small trashcan and washed my hands before pulling my sweatshirt on. The sleeves fell just past my palms, hiding me from the rest of the world nicely.

Tuesday

           I sat in front of Dr. Brady’s desk, anxiously waiting for him to finish his phone call. He spoke quickly to whoever was on the other end of the line, “Yes, thank you so much, I’m with a student now so I’ll speak to you later.” He hung up the phone and turned to look at me, offering a reassuring smile. “Sage,” he began.

           It felt like someone glued my mouth shut, so I just nodded at him to indicate he had my full attention.

           “I promise you’re not in trouble, but I’m very concerned about your performance in my class,” Dr. Brady said. “You’ve always been a good student, is something going on in your personal life?”

           I thought back to my last few attempts at doing anything for his class – staring at what seemed like an impossible amount of homework questions each week before shoving everything into my backpack and missing exams because I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.

           A lump rose in my throat and I choked it back. “No sir, I think I just took on too much and overwhelmed myself this semester,” I said. My bottom lip quivered slightly, but I kept my voice steady.

           How do I explain to my English professor that I have no motivation to finish my homework because most of the time I’m wondering if I even want to be alive?

           Dr. Brady ran a hand through his short, graying hair and let out a small sigh. “You have a lot of potential, and like I said, you’ve always been a good student. I can give you a couple of weeks to make up your missing work, but if you can’t I have to recommend you drop the class.”

           I thanked him and left, opening the registration portal on my phone and dropping the class as I walked down the hallway.

Wednesday

           “What seems to be bothering you today, Sage?” Dr. Fitz folded her hands on her lap. I shrank down into the oversized armchair in her dimly lit office, glancing at various things in the room to avoid eye contact.

           “I’m behind in my classes and I had to drop one,” I mumbled, picking at my already torn-up cuticles. “It just made me feel shitty. I can’t do it anymore.”

           “Well, why don’t we talk about why it’s making you feel that way?” Dr. Fitz said. “Maybe we can find some new motivation.”

           I half-heartedly agreed. I didn’t really care about finding a solution to my problems anymore.

Thursday

           I stared at the blank text document on my computer screen. The thought of even attempting my homework frustrated me to no end, and I honestly didn’t care about my classes anymore, but I wanted to give it a try. I pulled up the questions on the browser next to my document, looking between the two. I struggled to process the words I read, let alone form a coherent answer to them.

           I slammed my laptop shut, a bit too dramatically, and gripped my dark hair in frustration.

           Idiot. Lazy. Failure. Screw-up.

           My mind was full of words to describe how I felt about myself these days. Tears had welled up in my eyes, and they threatened to spill over at any second. This had been building up for weeks, and now it was all going to burst out over a homework assignment.

           A knock at my bedroom door snapped me out of my miserable state for a moment.

           “Just a minute!” I called. I took my hands out of my hair and smoothed it down in an attempt to look normal, blinking the tears out of my eyes and wiping them with the back of my hand.

           “Sage? Are you busy right now?” Quinn’s voice came from the other side of my closed door, catching me off-guard. I had expected it to be my roommate, Aiden, asking if I wanted to go to dinner. “Sorry for just showing up, I haven’t heard from you all day and Aiden let me in.”

           I crossed the room and opened my bedroom door. My boyfriend stood there, concern painted all over his face. Before I knew it, the floodgates opened and all the emotions I’d been trying to force down poured out. I couldn’t even get a word out before fat tears began rolling down my cheeks. He backed me into my room and shut the door, enveloping me in a tight hug.

           I took in his comforting scent of cigarettes and pine with every gulp of air I managed to get in between sobs, and he rested his chin on top of my head while I gripped two fistfuls of his t-shirt and cried it out.

Friday

           Quinn kept treating me as if I was about to break, and it was starting to get on my nerves. I was embarrassed at the way everything spilled out of me when he showed up at my door. He had enough on his plate, but now he had to worry about the fact that I scream-cried on him for an hour over my homework and I might have let it slip that I wanted to die. That’s just fantastic.

           I desperately wanted to go back to pretending everything was fine and I was dealing with normal college stress.

           “Baby, have you talking to your therapist about what’s going on?” Quinn said on the other end of the phone line. He’d called me on every break he had today, met me to walk me to some of my classes, and even brought me lunch. On a normal day, I would have relished in every second of his company, overwhelmed by how in love I was with him, but today I just wanted to be alone.

           “Yeah, but I feel like it just doesn’t help anymore,” I said. I felt uncomfortable, like I wanted to crawl out of my skin if we stayed on this topic. I was tired of talking to people about how messed up my brain is, and how my family disowned me when I came out as gay, and how I didn’t see the point in anything anymore.

           “Do you want to be helped?” Quinn pressed.

           I stayed silent. He didn’t want to hear my answer to that question.

The voice in my brain scrutinized everything about me, making sure I knew how much of a waste of space I was.

           My mom’s voice replayed in my head, just a few weeks ago demanding I get out of her house if I was going to choose to be a fucking faggot.

           Things would be so much easier on everyone if I was just gone.

           “I’m worried about you.”

Monday, again

          I sat up in bed for the first time in a couple of days. My body was sore, but I pushed past the discomfort. The sunlight streaming through the window made the white walls of the hospital room brighter.

          I had texted Quinn and Aiden each a goodbye Saturday night. One of them called for help, apparently just in time to get to me before it was too late.

          I wrestled with so many emotions when I woke up and grasped what happened; I felt angry and depressed, God, I couldn’t even kill myself right; I felt guilty, imagining the stress Aiden and Quinn must have been under dealing with me before, and how I made it even worse.

          The emotions hadn’t quite settled yet, but they were getting there.

          I spoke to Quinn on the hospital phone a few hours after I woke up, still pretty out of it. I didn’t have any family to be there for me, so he was the first person I thought to call. I apologized profusely, cried on and off, barely able to form a coherent sentence as I stammered out apologies.

          He forgave me, but hearing him cry on the phone while we talked made me feel even guiltier about the entire situation.

          Aiden forgave me, too, when he and Quinn brought me my phone and snuck in some soup from Panera so I could eat decent food.

          Despite how depressed and guilty I felt, I was starting to reach a sort of… relief, that I had survived.

          People in my life cared enough about me to get me help, they forgave me for what I did, and they continued to be there for me despite how hard I pushed them away and everything I put them through.

          Maybe I didn’t want to be gone as badly as I thought I did. The voice in my head continued to whisper nasty things to me, but I had the proof right there that maybe things could get better.

          I didn’t really know anymore.

#creative writing #angst #real sad boy shit #writing #short story #writers of tumblr #now that we're done with that wanna see my renegade

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

I have so many prompts😭😬 my last one was "Peter works at a rescue, Tony comes to get a doggo because he’s a single man in his 50s starting to feel the emptiness of the penthouse more and more. He gets way more than that."👬🏻🐶 But if that's not your thing and you fancy having a look at the ones I think of + ones others have come up with and I thought were cute I'll leave you the link ( /tagged/pp%3A%20prompt ) 🌸🌸🌸 can't wait to read regardless of the prompt!! have a lovely day!!

Struck From A Great Height

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Teen (T) Notes: This was perfect! I love puppies and Tony with a puppy was a true treat to envision. Thanks for the prompt @puppypeter! I’ll take the next one please ;D Oh, & the picture Tony sends to Peter is this one!  Word Count: ~3.3k Warnings: There aren’t any - just cute puppies. Summary: 

Tony is lonely so he adopts a white lab named Zero. He meets another kind of puppy at the rescue and decides to keep him, too. 

do the thing, send in all the prompts 

Loneliness – a word that could easily be used to describe the feeling that steadily crept up on Tony Stark.

He couldn’t pinpoint when it became a thing. For most of his life, being alone was the goal – with no one around to want things from him, Tony was free to do whatever he wanted, when he wanted. Building a multi-billion-dollar company up from a structure that Tony didn’t want anything to do with took a lot of time and effort. Simple things like love and affection weren’t really anywhere near his scope.

When getting older started to become apparent, Tony ran from it. He hopped into bed with whatever man looked his way with the right sparkle in his eye. If these people found him to be desirable, did looming near 50 actually mean anything?

The longer he let himself stoop to the lowest of low, the more he realized that men who wanted nothing more than his body weren’t worth the effort it took to get dolled up, go out, entice them, and do the whole song and dance that inevitably led to something quick in the bathroom or a rough fumble in his bed. Waking up alone after that made the emptiness ache a little more.

It became pretty apparent that behavior like that didn’t particularly help, so he reverted back to the lab rat that he truly was and put all of his efforts into the creation of tech and furthering of the projects that were already in the works. If Tony could rely on anything to get him by, it was his brain and the depths that existed within it.

And while that was fulfilling in a professional sense, Tony craved something more. No matter how much he told himself he didn’t need anything or anyone else – the deepest part of his soul called out, his soft bits desperate to take care of another living thing. The grandness of his penthouse that used to bring him so much joy just seemed empty – the multitude of rooms wouldn’t make him happy, that much was for sure.

Rhodey brought up the idea of a pet one night over dinner – he’d been able to step away from his pregnant wife to spend a bit of time eating junk food and playing the latest COD update. Tony didn’t like to admit it, but this time with his best friend was the highlight of his month. The thought of that made his skin crawl slightly – he loved the hell out of Rhodey, he couldn’t deny that. Yet, being completely overjoyed by nothing other than his presence had that pit of loneliness opening up within him a little more.

Listening to him talk, Tony wasn’t put off by it – in fact, having a dog with floppy ears to make a mess around the place might actually be the cure to the melancholy that didn’t want to go away. Tony couldn’t take the blue feeling for much longer – to most people, his life was perfect. Trying to portray that constantly was exhausting and compounded the already shitty feelings that weren’t anywhere close to changing.

The very next day, Tony spent the first part of the day looking up rescues that were open for adoption. His heart started to beat a little faster when he started to scroll through the many adorable little faces of the dogs that were just waiting for someone to come along and take them home. A small white lab puppy caught his eye, the small dog making his decision pretty easy.

Tony took the rest of the day off – he wanted to see about the adoption process and if all things went well, get his new friend home and on the path to adjusting to the good life that he couldn’t wait to provide. Changing out of his suit into a pair of jeans, an old AC/DC shirt, and an open black and red flannel, Tony set out towards Happy Tails, his final destination.

A wave of nerves washed over him when he first walked through the door of the shelter. The smell of cleaner reminded him of the many hospital visits he had over the years, the memories almost enough to send him back through the doors and as far away as possible. Before that could happen, Tony was welcomed by a soft voice – a sense of calmness surrounded him almost immediately. Continuing on his original path, Tony clenched his fist tightly and walked towards the comforting voice.

“Welcome to Happy Tails!” Tony heard again when he got a little closer. Looking up, Tony had to stop himself from gasping – the man behind the counter was the most exquisite being he’d ever seen. Chestnut hair framed sharp cheekbones that were covered with a soft redness that probably sat there enticingly all day. There was the slightest touch of facial hair coating the man’s face, the chin strap he was working on still on the thin side. When they locked eyes, Tony felt himself blush, the wide smile on pink lips knowing and entirely too enticing to actually be real.

Raising a hand like the idiot he actually was, Tony waved at him – his stomach dropping at his stupidity almost instantly. “Uh, hi – “ Tony muttered, his brains attempt to fix the situation failing miserably. The hearty chuckle he was met with was just as sinful as the smile and eyes and cheeks that this man was graced with.

“Hi! Thanks for stopping in. I’m Peter – one of the resident puppy gurus. What can I help you with today?” The man – Peter, said with a wide smile and the most brilliant twinkle in his eye. Tony found himself returning the look without a second thought, his cheeks pinching uncomfortably after a few minutes of the beaming grin taking over his face.

“Puppy guru, huh? You may be exactly who I’m looking for, then. I saw this dog online,” Tony started as he walked closer to the desk Peter stood behind. He showed him the beautiful white lab, the fingers on his phone shaking slightly. “I want to adopt him, if he’s still available.”

“Oh, that’s Zero. He’s one of the newest fellas on the block and is very much available. He’s really chill and likes to sit around a lot for a dog his age. Labs are usually filled with energy. Not Zero – he’s just along for the ride.” Tony listened intently, Peter’s babbling about the dog absolutely adorable. Not to mention the fact that Zero sounded like the best companion – another entity in the house that just wanted to exist.

“Why don’t we got back and meet him? They just got fed, so he’ll be ready for a nice cuddle.” Peter gestured for him to step around the counter and opened the door leading into the kennels, following behind him closely. Tony looked around, his senses overwhelmed by all the sounds and smells that immediately hit him. There were a multitude of dogs in kennels, all shapes and sizes of them, each one looking at him with some sort of look in their eyes.

Peter put a hand on his lower back and pointed towards the end of the hall – “ the puppies have their own hallway.” The hand stayed where it was until Tony was out of the danger zone and in an area that was far less populated. Tony saw Zero before Peter could point him out, the small white lab sat in the middle of its kennel, looking at them curiously.

Tony felt his heart melt a little when Peter opened the kennel and Zero walked right over to him. Crouching down, he put his hand out to be smelt – the wet nose against his skin had him laughing, a huge smile slipping across his face. When the paw shot out to press against his wrist, Tony was a goner. He sat on the floor and let Zero walk into his lap – Tony wrapped his arms around the pup and scratched wholeheartedly up and down his back.

He saw Peter sit down beside him in his peripheral vision, his hands reaching out to run over Zero’s soft fur, too. Tony turned his head to look directly at him, the grin still alive and well on his face. “What do I need to do? I can’t leave here without him,” Tony admitted shamelessly, his chest light in so many ways for the first time in a while.

The smile he got from Peter in response to his question could only be described as breathtaking – the roundness of his cheeks made Tony want to reach out and touch; his entire being ached to see if his skin was really as soft as it looked. He watched Peter slip his tongue out and wet his lips, the other not missing the fact that Tony couldn’t look away. Peter let out a soft breath and kept staring at him.

“The process is pretty easy, honestly.”

And it was – Tony paid the fee and signed the paperwork while Peter ran through Zero’s latest vet visits and the ones that would be necessary in the future. Tony didn’t think to bring a leash, so Peter gave him one hanging behind the desk. “I teach a behavior class on Friday nights. You can bring the leash and Zero back later this week for it,” Peter said confidently, their fingers brushing when the leash exchanged hands.

Nodding, Tony held up the leash in salute. “Whatever you say, puppy guru. Do you happen to have a card? Just in case I have any questions, or anything.” Tony tried to sound innocent, but the smirk that pulled across his face gave him away. It’d been a long time since he tried to get someone’s number – he felt a little rusty.

Peter didn’t miss a beat, however – he pulled a drawer open and de-capped a pen, his hand flying over the card quickly. “That’s my personal. Just in case,” Peter shot back, his fingers pushing the card across the counter.

Tony picked it up before he knelt down to get the leash attached to Zero’s collar – the dog resting heavily against his leg while he did. Petting his head lightly, Tony stood back up and threw Peter one last grin. “Thanks for the help, Peter. We’ll see you Friday.” Tony couldn’t help but smile as Zero started to pull him forward, the dog’s paws slipping on the floor in his haste.

----

After letting Zero explore both the front and back seat of his car, Tony settled into the driver’s seat and set off towards the nearest pet store. He felt a little nervous bringing his brand-new friend into the store – they weren’t used to each other yet. Zero didn’t even bat an eye, though – he followed Tony around the aisles with a wagging tail and minimal barking. Tony held the different toys down for Zero to sniff every now and again, his dog just as indecisive as him.

In the end, they left the store with a whole lot more shit than Tony originally intended. The big bed looked hilarious in the backseat of the small Audi. Zero seemed to like it, though – he curled up on the thing the second Tony started the car. He figured he’d be dealing with an unruly puppy, or overexcited thing that couldn’t control itself. The reality of the situation was even better.

The night went surprisingly well – Tony let Zero take up whatever space he wanted in the penthouse. Peter assured him that he was potty trained, which proved to be correct pretty early on when the dog scratched his leg and looked longingly towards the balcony. He did it again early the next morning, his cold nose pressing against Tony’s cheek more than enough of a wakeup call to get him out of bed, stumbling towards the sliding glass door. The damn dog was too cute, it seemed impossible to hold anything against him.

Physically unable to part himself from Zero, Tony put the brand-new blue collar and tags they got the night before around his neck. The ‘bad to the bone’ leash clipped nicely to it – the whole look totally fitting for the badass little pooch. With Zero completely decked out and identifiable as Tony’s, he felt comfortable enough to leave with the pup for the day.

Tony’s caffeine headache had him pulling into the drive-thru of his favorite café, a smile coming to his face when he got to order a pupachino for the little dog that already owned all the pieces of his malfunctioned heart. Zero climbed up onto his shoulder while they waited in line, so Tony flipped the camera on his phone and took a picture of the two of them. Fumbling around the cupholder he put Peter’s card in, Tony sent the picture in a text – the happiness he felt needed to be shared.

Tony Stark: Look how cute we are. Thanks for hooking us up.

He got a few sips of his coffee in before his phone went off, the number he already typed in as Peter Parker lighting up his screen. Tony shook his head at the giddy feeling spreading through his chest, an old man like him shouldn’t feel as on edge about a cute guy texting him as he did in that moment.

Peter Parker: You two are quite the pair. Peter Parker: It was my pleasure! Glad to have made such a sweet connection.

The soft grin he already associated with Peter stayed on his lips the rest of his drive into the office and even further into the day as the two of them continued to text back and forth. Tony didn’t get much work done – between trying to be as charming as possible in his texts to Peter and loving the fuck out of Zero, there wasn’t much room for anything else.

Predictably, the rest of the week followed suit. Tony couldn’t get enough of the white fur-ball that got more and more comfortable with him as the days passed. Zero stayed by his feet while he was in the lab and followed him around the penthouse when Tony was finished for the night. The mutual appreciation of walks had them wandering around the little neighborhoods Tony never took the time to explore before.

By the time Friday rolled around, Tony was excited to show off his and Zero’s bond – a big part of him thought that Peter would be the most impressed by something like that. In their conversations throughout the week, Tony learned that Peter trained dogs professionally after studying behavior in college. He answered any of Tony’s questions and appreciated all the little anecdotes Tony shared about the short time he’d been enjoying the heck out of Zero.

Walking into the room he was directed to, Tony lit up when Peter noticed him. In a couple of long strides, Peter was right in front of him, his hand already reaching down to press against Zero’s head. “Hey you two! You guys are in luck – it’s a small class, so you’ll get lots of hands on stuff tonight,” Peter caught his eye as he spoke, the smirk on the younger man’s lips making Tony’s throat suddenly very dry.

He nodded his head listlessly, his hand tightening on Zero’s lead. The crush on Peter that he’d been fostering for the past few days doubled in size throughout the next hour. There was one other dog owner and their pup – another puppy adopted from the rescue. Not only was Peter attentive, he knew his shit and didn’t mind explaining things as he went. As someone that put information above almost everything else, Tony liked all things about that.

Zero seemed to like it, too – he showered Peter with affection when he stood talking to Tony at the end of the class. He nosed at Tony’s hand, then pressed against Peter’s leg and licked at his ankles. Tony couldn’t help but grin down at him – the antics already too much.

“I found a local brewery that has a patio that allows dogs – any interest in catching a drink with us?” Tony asked – the conversation had got to the point where they were just staring longingly at each other. It seemed like the perfect time to put himself out there. The grip on Zero’s lead tightened for just a second; he didn’t think he read their interactions wrong, but after so much time away from the dating game, he could never be too sure.

Peter reached out and laid a hand on his arm, the touch the slightest bit reassuring, “I would like that very much. I hope you’re talking about Landry’s – they have the best cheese curds.” He turned his body and started to gather his stuff up like he’d merely been waiting for Tony to buck up the courage to invite him out before getting his shit together. Maybe he was – the idea of that honestly not the worst thing. At least then, he was joined in the intensity of his feelings.

They split up for the few minutes it took them to drive their separate cars to the brewery and met back up at one of the picnic tables closest to the open grass space right next to the building. There were a couple of other dogs milling around the grass – Zero looked over at them curiously, but remained by Tony’s side, his body resting on his feet after a while.

Their view of the sunset was fantastic – they shared a couple orders of cheese curds and truffle fries; Tony liked the way Peter closed his eyes around the bites that were extra indulgent – the redness of his cheeks absolutely divine. The amount of times being caught looking at him probably should have been embarrassing. Yet, Peter simply smiled back and moved his hand a little closer to Tony’s on the table.

It took most of the night for their fingers to finally tangle together – Tony wanted to be sure and enjoyed the build-up to it once he was. Peter’s hands were just as soft as Tony imagined them – his long fingers fit perfectly between his own. They shared a shy smile and sat together until the sky started to rumble a little while later.

Big raindrops suddenly falling on them made the decision to pay the bill and huddle for warmth in Tony’s car easy – Peter climbed into the passenger seat without any restraint. It was obvious that neither man was ready for the night to end. 

In hopes of a few seconds to think his next move through, Tony started the car and made sure the vents were open so the car didn’t get too hot. He was startled by a cool hand on his own, Peter’s fingers around his wrist pulling his attention back to where they both wanted it to be.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Peter admitted, his body shifting in the seat. The Audi didn’t have too much space in it, so they were already close. The move of Peter’s shoulders brought them within breath sharing distance. “I like spending time with you.”

Tony didn’t bother trying to find the words to respond appropriately. Without any hesitation, he closed the space between them and pressed their lips together. His hands wandered to the front of Peter’s shirt; the fabric there warm from the heat of his body. A soft moan left Peter’s lips, the sound so encouraging – Peter’s response to it all exactly what Tony was hoping for.

Tilting his head, Tony was about to deepen the kiss when he felt a wet tongue on his cheek. Since his was currently tangled with Peter’s, it could only belong to none other than Zero. He pulled away with a sudden laugh – the excellence of the situation hitting him when Peter beamed at him.

“Better get used to him, Zero. I don’t think he’s going anywhere,” Tony murmured, one of his hands running softly over the puppy’s head.

Peter pulled Tony and Zero towards him, the group hug the sweetest thing Tony figured he’d ever been a part of. The press of lips against his forehead had Tony sighing, his body light for the first time in decades.

The start of something new felt pretty damn good.  

#starker #ironspider #puppypeter #bobbie writes #au prompt #struck from a great height

[missinghan]

dawn ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : runaway! au; demon!au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 10k.

❖ warning : explicit language, mentions of alcohol 

❖ summary : it seems like everyone has their own guardian angel, everyone but you because you’ve given up on Jesus the moment you come down to Lee Minho’s level and shake hands with the Devil.

one.

Your dad is definitely not gonna approve of you hanging by the bar alone after midnight. 

It all happened too fast, and you don’t even know where you’re going next. After a call from your manager, which you almost fell asleep as he rambled about boring paperwork, until he dropped the bomb. He said he was sorry for what he’s gonna say next and turned out the label wanted to cut you loose. The entire universe was completely shattered right in front of your eyes. You were utterly speechless when the line went dead so long story short, you packed your bag and ran away. 

Like a coward. 

You stare blankly at the half-empty glass of Martini in your hand before chuckling lowly. Because life is a little son of a bitch, who’s born with the power to pull on everyone’s strings as if people are a bunch of puppets for whatever gods up there to entertain themselves. Getting signed into a music production company right after your graduation swept your life over with joy. Your parents were… overwhelmed to say the least but they still wanted you to move to Seoul. Two years later, your life once again was flipped upside down because of a single phone call. They didn’t even bother to call you in and meet face-to-face. 

“Cheers to this motherfucker.” You almost laugh at your own miserable state but suppress it and down the whole glass in one go. “Another one.” You tell the barista absently and he just sighs before starting to mix your drink. 

“Tough times ?” He leans over the counter and slides your drink across the wooden surface. 

You gratefully take the glass, words slurred between hiccups. “You have no fucking idea.” Your eyes travel down from his defined features gleaming under the neon light to the name tag hanging off his white dress shirt. It reads ‘Kim Woojin’. You shake your head to lure the weariness away while your right hand reaching inside your pocket to pull out some cash. 

But before you can place them on the table, Woojin stops you abruptly. “Keep a hold of them. This last one’s on me.” He sighs defeatedly. Judging by how you look right now, he must have thought that you’re some petty college girl who just got into a fight with her boyfriend and now you have nowhere to stay for the night so essentially, he wants to be certain that you’ll have enough money for a cheapass motel of some sort.

Woojin pats his wet hands onto the black apron wrapped around his hip. “You’ll need them more than I do.” And you feel kinda bad for him, partially because this place doesn’t serve cheap vodka like most bars, and partially because you’re now a somewhat burden to the bartender. “Listen, no matter how much bad shit happens, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. Besides, looks like that punk over there has already had his eyes on you the whole time.” He winks at you playfully before walking over to his coworker at the other side of the counter.

Speaking of the Devil… literally, not even sarcastically, a hollow presence seems to come into sight the moment you place your lips on the rim of the glass. You automatically reach your hand backwards only to find exactly what you’re looking for. “Do not touch me.” You deadpan, normally you would have felt bad by now upon your sudden discourtesy but unfortunately you’re not in the mood to be kind today. Hearing his melodic chuckle, you yank his hand away rather harshly, the coldness of his touch still chills you to the bone.

“Why so sad, bunny ?” He moves over to sit down on the nearby wooden bench, lips curled into a devilish smirk. Out of 7 billion people on this glorious plant, he chooses to pester a mundane mortal like you. Out of 365 days of the year, he chooses to visit you on the worst day of your life. Lee Minho is worse than Lucifer, it’s official.

Not enjoying your dull state, he cocks a brow at you. “You’re jobless because that stupid label doesn’t need you anymore. And now what ? Are you gonna be petty and depressed about it for the rest of your life ? Because if so, you’ll have a really shitty life Y/N. Do you really want your demons to come out and conquer the path ahead like it’s their fucking playground ?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Said a demon himself.”

“Then aren’t humans the closest things that we have to demons alive ?” Minho almost snickers at your suggestive remark, but he wouldn’t admit that it did sting a bit. After all, he is a demon, an epitome of a creature that’s second to Lucifer and his descendants generation, highly worshipped and exceptionally feared. And he’s low-key impressed that you didn’t throw yourself out the window when he stepped out of a wisp of black smoke the day you two first encountered.

You on the other hand didn’t know that he was too utterly soft for you to actually erase your memories. From then on, he would visit you occasionally at the godly hour when you’re close to kicking yourself in the process of composing or when you accidentally fucked up something. ‘Til this day, you still don’t know whether his concern for you is pure sincerity or he just finds your first world problems very amusing. You can’t tell either way.

Taking another sip of your drink, you groan slightly at the slight burn in your throat from the strong alcohol. “I mean ... fair point.” Your lips pursed unknowingly. “I don’t know Minho… I think I must have done something fucking messed up to be kicked out of the game like that. I wasn’t even thinking straight, you know, just packed my stuff and drove downtown. Ugh now I feel like shit.”

The demon in front of you glares at the glass of Martini coldly. He’s not letting you finish that shit after who knows how much alcohol that Woojin has permitted you to drink. “Do you think that overcoming cowardice is easy ? If it was that easy, everyone would go outside to get some fresh air, smell some flowers, meet new people; not fucking hide behind their screens and whatnot while talking trash about others like a bunch of scaredy-cats.” Minho spats, swiftly taking your drink away before you gulp it again.

Funny enough, you’re sitting at a bar with a demon, who’s obviously so done with your shit, but also the one that you have least expectations for listening and giving you advice. Just like how that one song goes.

Well, I shook hands with the devil

Down on the south side

And he bought us both a drink

With a pad and a pencil sat by his side

I said, "Tell me what you think".

Except that Minho didn’t buy you a drink, he actually stole yours.

“I may not know much about your world, but I’m confident that you’re very talented and passionate about what you’re doing. I saw how much effort you put into your work, staying up after midnight, heck, you barely got any sleep when you’re still working for that shitty company. I saw how much you care, Y/N and I don’t give two fucks about how much you’re doubting yourself because you’re so much more than that. I know you got this, you’re as stubborn as a human being can be, you’re not gonna let a tiny cut or bruised knee hold you back, are you ?”

You shake your head slightly, starting to acknowledge his words. You don’t get why you never noticed this but for a demon, Minho gives really good advice. In spite of his cocky personality because he thinks that he has every right to sass every human being out whenever wherever he wants to, his company always makes you feel fuzzy inside. It’s almost heartwarming but that makes no sense because demons are nowhere near ‘sweet and caring’.

A strange look flashes in his eyes when his eyes meet yours but before you can properly react, it vanishes. “You’re not drinking ever again… at least not for the time being.” He tells you off with his eyes before chugging the whole glass. Woah, good shit, he admits internally. And he’s mildly surprised that you’re taking this better than he’d thought. Other young producers would have been bawling their eyes out by now, not talking to a creature from the underworld.

“Alcohol helps me sleep.” You pout slightly, feeling the need to actually pay Woojin back when you get paid again. Oh wait… but you’re practically unemployed. “Insomnia is painstakingly arbitrary, like a needle that’s constantly pricking my spine whenever I’m trying to get comfy in bed. Guess I’m not sleeping tonight, thanks a lot.” You huff and lean over on the wooden counter, cheek pressed against your left upper arm.

Although Minho thinks that you look ridiculously cute right now with tinted pink cheeks and messy hair, he’s still not gonna buy you another drink. “They do say that insomnia is just another word for chit chatting with the demons during bedtime. And you’ve already wolfed down three fucking Vodka Martinis by the time I teleported here, aren’t you concerned about the stupid hangover tomorrow morning ? I swear to Lucifer— are you even listening to me right now ?”

Minho asks in disbelief when you stay unresponsive. The demon peels his eyes away from the empty glass and turns his head only to find you already fallen asleep, like a bear in hibernation. Your eyes are closed shut, chest heaving up and down rhythmically as you drift away from the cruel reality and into dreamland. Truth be told, you tend to fall asleep whenever he’s lecturing you a lot, and that gives him an excuse to stay for a little more than he should.

two.

Hangover hits you with a bang, almost knocks you out cold. But it’s not going to let you pass out, at least not before you start regretting the amount of alcohol that you chugged last night. Your eyes are still screwed shut, refusing to flutter open as your head throbs uncontrollably. Usually you would have been awake by now since you’re dumb enough to have white curtains instead of colored ones which helps the sunlight goes right through your apartment.

But something seems off today because there’s nothing that’s bothering your eyes. And you would definitely sleep in if it wasn’t for the strange feeling beneath your skin. Wait a second… A worrisome feeling runs down your spine, causing your eyes to open. You look down and check your clothes properly, everything stays the same except for… hold on, since when did you have a silky black sheet ?

“You woke up, finally. Be grateful that you’re on time for breakfast.” Someone’s voice booms in the distance when your eyes adjust themselves on the foreign surroundings. The studio apartment in front of you has your jaw dropped to the floor. Minimal yet modern pieces of furniture, a fully equipped kitchenette and an enormous window that gives you a breathtaking view of the whole city. This isn’t your apartment, is it ?

You groan loudly before pushing yourself off the bed and shiver slightly when your feet come in contact with the cold floor. “Tylenol’s on the table, you’re welcome.” Minho says nonchalantly as he has his back against you. You drag yourself to the dining table and pop the pills into your mouth before downing the glass of water beside them.

Yeah, no, you’re not drinking ever again.

“What are you doing ?” You ask him in a raspy tone and sniff your nose continuously at the aroma that’s filling the entirety of the apartment. Minho stays silent, deciding to fully concentrate on his current task. When you suddenly approach him from behind and place your head lazily on his shoulder, he almost drops the pot of freshly made soup. His chest swells a bit whenever you get close to his body, whether it is because it’s all in his head or just you having that kind of effect on him, he dares not to know.  

“Tsk, you’re in my way, shoo.” He sneers, motioning for you to move so that he can transfer the pot over to the table in peace. Minho quickly scoops the thick liquid into a smaller bowl and gives you a look. You just stare at the hearty soup in complete awe, mouth slightly watered. No one has ever cooked for you before, much less a pot full of hangover soup. And you would be lying if you said that you’re not touched right now because you feel like it’s been forever since you’ve had homemade food.

Lee Minho never changes, still ever so caring.

He sits down at the table and pushes the bowl towards you. “Eat this and write me a 1000 words essay for instant feedback later.” Without a word, you automatically take a spoonful into your mouth, almost choking because of how hot it is. “Dude, it’s not 1945 anymore. If this goes on, you’re not gonna die from anything other than choking yourself.” He purses his lips at your eagerness, dabbing the excess soup away with a napkin on the corner of your lips.

After coughing furiously, you figure that your voice can finally function normally. “I didn’t know that you can cook, god this soup is everything.” In the next ten minutes, you finish inhaling the whole bowl as if you’ve walked through the desert, searching for an oasis for a week straight.

You’ve never let anyone cook for you other than your parents because one, none of your friends can cook, Changbin almost burnt your apartment down while Jisung came up with the idea to crack eggs with a knife; and two, you still remember a creepy story you once heard on a podcast vividly. Basically, there’s this girl who allowed her date to make her a meal on their very first encounter. She was hospitalized a week later, suspecting food poisoning but the test results came out as cannibalism. Yikes.

“Demons eat souls, not human flesh you paranoid bitch.” Minho reads your thoughts in a matter of seconds before taking his wooden spoon and smack you on the head. He looks unimpressed right now, he really does because he’s so over your delusional ass from binge-watching way too many investigation related shows at three a.m. “They’re not even that tasty, I’d rather have a boring sandwich.”

You scoff at him, rubbing the spot where he hit previously. “You can’t have mine then, it’s too dark for you.”

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” He almost grit, lips pressed into a thin line.

You stand up from the wooden stool and carry the dishes over to the newly renovated silver sink. “This is your place ?” You ask while turning on the faucet to spray water all over the dirty bowl. “It’s really nice, not gonna lie. Just not as nice as mine.”

When you’re having your back against him, Minho looks somewhat guilty. What would Hyunjin say if he found out that his roommate brought a mundane mortal home and even made her a bowl of hangover soup ? “For the time being, it is.” Whatever, Hyunjin’s staying in Italy for a good two weeks anyway. With a little bit more effort of ridding off your human scent and reorganize some stuff, Minho can pretty much pass without being suspected. “And what do you expect ? That I’m gonna leave you at the bar where sketchy people are getting wasted ? FYI, a demon doesn’t necessarily have to own a place where it’s just full of miserable souls swimming around. I take my beauty sleep very seriously, actually, all of us do. Even Satan.”

You carefully line the dishes up on the white rack next to the sink and sighs. “Beauty sleep ? I don’t know her.” When you turn around to face Minho, his lips are slightly curled upwards. “What, Minho ?” You ask, slightly annoyed.

He props his head onto his palms and cocks his head to the side. “What will you do now ? Going home is a no-no, obviously, and I believe that your coworkers/best friends are flipping the whole city upside down looking for you so your apartment isn’t really an option anymore. What’s next Y/N ?”

You think for a bit and hum. “Technically I’m running away ...so…why not make the best out of it ?” Then, something clicks and your eyes lit up in mischief. “I have an idea. It’s genius, a fucking genius idea.”

Minho immediately shakes his head furiously, looking like he’s encountering a panic attack. “Hate it.”

“You love it, don’t even lie to yourself.”

“It’s humiliating.”

You reach your hands inside your pocket to look for your keys. “Too late.” That’s when Minho knows that he doesn’t have a say in this.

three.

“You know what’s more fun than this ?” Minho supports himself on his knees as his breaths come in short, he feels like he’s gonna throw up. Being on a rollercoaster is most definitely scarier than attending a meeting with the Underworld Authority. He still doesn’t get why humans enjoy torturing themselves as a form of pure entertainment when they can do something like educate themselves by reading more books. “Hearing Lucifer play the fiddle, the Devil plays it damn good and a fun demon to hang around. He’s a real entertainer, trust me. Just hire a lawyer beforehand if you’re signing any contract with him.”

Minho’s making it sound like you’re planning on having ‘a thing’ with Lucifer meanwhile he practically follows you everywhere, watches your every move and you think that’s close enough for an example of the infamous slavery contract.

You run a hand through your hair and exhale in satisfaction. Since middle school, you haven’t really got a chance to come to amusement parks before. You’re far too caught up with the new tempo to life these days. “Come on, it’s not that bad. It ain’t my fault when you can’t teleport us both to somewhere further.” You almost laugh at his current state; disheveled hair, beads of sweat rolling down on his forehead, and he looks as pale as a ghost like he just saw one. Not like he’s terrified of ghosts or anything, actually, he might be scared of heights.

“You can’t teleport with me for fuck’s sake, even when I want to, you’ll end up disintegrating into dusts forever because your mortal body doesn’t have enough energy to recollect itself piece by piece.” Minho grits and shakes his head slightly to adjust the messy mop of hair on his head. He looks really cute, you think. Like a cat that’s trying to clean itself but can’t quite reach the itchy spot.

Upon your stubbornness because he knows too well that you just wanna see him being drowned in misery, Minho can’t help but roll his eyes. “And can you get any dumber ? You have a fucking Range Rover and a valid license. Technically, there’s no law against driving with a demon sitting in your vehicle. Ugh, I really should have left you at the bar last night.”

Right when you’re about to snap back at him with a witty comment, your phone buzzes loudly. And your eyes are about to jump out of their sockets the moment you open up the device. There are more than thirty missed calls, from your family and friends along with countless texts filled with nothing but concern. Changbin and Jisung both work under the same label as you so you assume that your family already knew everything. Now you feel guilty for running away so spontaneously because after all, you do have people who are always willing to be there for you.

[ 3:25pm ]

jisung | dude, I’m outside, open up

jisung | we know everything already

changbin | Y/N I’m bringing food over, you’re gonna binge-watch Netflix with us whether you want to or not

[ 3:27pm ]

jisung | uhm, hello ? Y/N ?

changbin | we’re breaking in if you’re not coming out, FYI

[ 3:35pm ]

jisung | you know I have the keys right, we’re gonna go in

changbin | this isn’t fucking funny

jisung | stop being such a stubborn piece of shit

[ 3:36pm ]

jisung | Y/N where the fuck are you ?!

changbin | …. look, just go home, your family are worried sick

[ 3:45pm ]

jisung | at least call me back ?

changbin | whatever you’re planning on doing, don’t do it

[ 9:23pm ]

chan | call me, I’m not going anywhere

Sensing your racing thoughts and seeing your tense posture, Minho swiftly takes your phone away from your hand and drops it into his pocket. The last thing he wants to see is you curled up into a ball and cry alone in the bathroom. “You’re so rude ? What kind of human are you, Y/N ? This is how you’re treating your date ?” He huffs, arms crossed in front of his chest like a little kid. But wait, a date ?

“This is not a date, Lee Minho, stop flirting with me.” You knit your brows together in confusion when his eyes twinkle. What’s with his demon nature being on steroids right now ? “Give me my phone.” You order.

“It’s a date when I say that it’s a date.” Minho reaches his hand outwards and links his fingers with yours. He quickly narrows the proximity between the two of you, backing you up against a wall. Utterly speechless, you find yourself dumbfoundedly melting into his touch. How can a demon possess such radiant warmth and tenderness ? Is it all just a facade or does he seem more human when he’s around you, you can’t tell either way. But what you do know is that when you relax a bit and let him hold your hand properly, it fits like a glove.

Minho cocks his head and cracks a smile. For the longest time, you’ve never noticed anyone looking at you with so much sincerity and affection. Maybe it’s all in your head after all. “What now ? You wanna watch a movie and put our hands into the popcorn at the same time to see what’ll happen or nah ?” You question, but it feels more like a question towards yourself.

Minho chuckles lightheartedly. “You’re so damn predictable Y/N.”

The rest of the night is absolutely magical. You feel like you’re acting in one of those One Direction’s music videos that’s not the typical ‘too good to be true’ kind. It really does remind you a lot of ‘Night Changes’ when Minho almost slips while holding onto you like a cat that just came in contact with water. Meaning, if it weren’t for your mediocre ice-skating skills way back from middle school, everything would have been exactly like the music video itself, in which you don’t mind. Because it’s Lee Minho, because his warm presence is something you never knew you needed in your life, because you always have this sense of comfort and happiness even when he starts cursing so loudly that your ears bleed. Demon or not, him being him is truly a blessing already.

Minho says. “I told you it’s humiliating.” He links your hand into his before stuffing it inside his pocket and drags you away from the front entrance. His hand’s got a lot warmer from staying inside his coat for so long and that makes him more human than ever. In which, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You freaking loved it, you can’t tell me otherwise.” You shake your head in denial.

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes for the tenth time. “Let’s go home.”

four.

The next day, Minho somehow convinces you to drive back to your apartment for packing. Not for running away this time, he’s had enough of that shit. But for a trip back to your hometown instead ( you really should have gone deeper into his ‘let’s go home’ from last night ). The flight will take approximately ten hours or more so he only gives you two hours to pack before leaving. You basically spend half an hour picking out clothes from the messy walk-in closet and another ninety minutes to fit all of them into your suitcase while having a mental breakdown inside your head.

Because gosh, what would they think ?

You’ve scared them all shitless for the last two days and now you’re just gonna show up at the front door and go “Hey, I’m done being miserable now.” ? Sounds like a pretty solid plan but you doubt that your mom’s not planning to beat you up with her favorite broom that’s covered in nothing but dust and spiderwebs. Not to mention, your brother is definitely gonna grill your ass for causing such a commotion in your family. You can already imagine him waiting for you at the foyer with crossed arms, getting ready to lecture the heck out of you.

“Did you lose your favorite pair of shoes or something ?” Minho suddenly fades into your room, making you jump slightly. You’ve got used to his particular ways of intruding your personal space but the demon never seems to fail at surprising you.

You glare at him. “Look who’s being rude now.”

Minho purses his lips. “I didn’t know humans were notorious for being terribly indecisive when it comes to their belongings.” He almost sneers, leaning back against your bedroom wall.

“That’s not the problem.” Yeah, that’s not the problem because not every human takes pain in packing their stuff, it’s just a ‘you’ problem. “I’m coming home after scaring the shit out of my loved ones. I wouldn’t blame them if they hated me, it’s just that I don’t know what to say. What do I say in situations like this ? School didn’t teach me that.” A sigh escapes your lips as you kick your suitcase towards the door. And you’re kinda glad that Changbin and Jisung left your apartment last night, specifically when you called them at one a.m. because you were driving back with a demon right next to the shotgun window.

Minho politely grabs the doorknob and pushes the door open for you. Now that was a first. You almost smile at his out-of-nowhere kind gesture. Normally, he would have teleported to the front porch and complained about how you’re always taking so long. “Hurry up dumbass, we don’t have all day.” He raises his brow at your thoughts.

“Tsk, you’re not the one who’s driving.”

Minho can’t drive, sadly. Partially because he doesn’t see the point in moving around in a fucking box with four wheels when he’s fully capable of teleporting from one place to another within a snap of his fingers. And partially because he can’t afford erasing some cops’ memories because they might have some kind of innovative technology that’ll automatically record when things go down. Another reason is that he might or might not chug a whole bottle of whiskey while driving just because he feels like it.

“It’s cold, roll down the windows.” Minho reminds you when he enters your car because gosh, you always love to keep the temperature at a minimum of 71 degrees even when it’s freezing outside. His cold-hearted demon ass is quaking because another cold case remains another mystery for the entirety of humanity. “You’d be a badass demon, just saying. I’m surprised that you’re still alive at this point.” He shakes his head in disapproval and leans forward to turn off the AC. Not because he’s cold but he’s afraid that you’ll actually freeze to death before you two can even make it to the airport.

You kick the brake when the first red light occurs. “Just admit it, you’re cold. If anything, you can always hold my hand.”

“Okay,” He blinks numerous time at your reply. When did you become such a brat ? You’ve been acting like him these past few days and now he knows how it feels like. Woah, he does act like an old, bitchy cat. “Who taught you that ?”

You say, sparing him a slight smirk. “You know, only the best of the best.”

“Just don’t act like that in front of your parents, will you ?” Minho scrunches his nose at your particular way of having a civil conversation. “You did tell your parents right ?”

You nod. “Yeah, I told them that I was gonna go home sooner or later. I even texted Chan— OH MY GOD,” You let out the loudest gasp whilst trying to make sharp turn at an intersection.

“What the fuck is wrong with you ?” He gasps in disbelief at your sudden outburst, holding onto the side of your car for dear life.

“I can’t just bring a demon home !” You cry out. “You’d be considered safe if it weren’t for my brother. He just happens to be home for break. God, do you know how protective he is when it comes to bringing a guy home ?!” One time, you asked your desk mate from highschool to do a project at your house and Chan didn’t even hesitate to put him on trial. Luckily, they talked things out pretty smoothly and became friends later. Now Felix’s probably the only guy who wouldn’t be thrown off a cliff for breathing in the same room as you.

Minho stares at you weirdly for a full twenty seconds, and that makes you think he’s mentally judging you, which he totally is. “Wouldn’t me being your boyfriend the best option then ?”

“Are you dumb, or are you dumb ?” You haven’t dated anyone since elementary school and the relationship didn’t even last a week. And now out of nowhere you’re just gonna bring a ‘boyfriend’ home after running away ? That’s practically equivalent to adding fuel to the fire and you doubt that Minho’s comprehend the situation correctly. That’s it, you’re officially letting all hell break loose from here. “Yeah, go ahead and be my boyfriend if you wanna sleep with the fishes.”

He throws a look at you. “Is that a challenge ?”

“Better not dress like that in front of my family then.” You glance at his bold choice of a silky wine colored dress shirt along with leather pants and combat boots. Can’t have him walking around looking like a celebrity now, can you ? Although he does look good in them… so annoying.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

However, Minho’s outfit is most definitely the least of your worries.

five.

“Don’t tell me that you thought this through because-“

Minho says in a hushed tone. “I did think this through, baby. Loosen up a bit.” A devilish smirk blooms on his lips as he tucks some loose strands of hair behind your ear. He really needs to stop doing that because you’re already a blushing mess. He switched out his usual clothes and went for a comfortable hoodie with some jeans and sneakers. You hate him even more now because the demon easily pulled off the perfect boyfriend look.

Grimacing, you slap his hand away. “I’m not your fucking baby. And keep your hands to yourself, will you ?” And with that, you turn on your heels and make a beeline towards the kitchen where everyone’s busy setting up the table, leaving him in the living room alone.

Minho unconsciously plops himself onto the white faux leather couch and looks around in awe. Your house sort of symbolizes you because it’s minimal in the best way with a white color scheme and the occasional colorful tiny details on some of the decorative pieces. He starts pondering about how you never told him anything about your family in Australia. And although you grew up in a pretty well-off household, you didn’t flaunt your wealth. That makes you much more admirable in his eyes because not everyone can keep their mouth shut for more than two seconds when it comes to money.

Truth is, when your parents saw Minho for the very first time, they totally freaked out and drove to the nearest supermarket to shop for more ingredients. Now the house is filled with the aroma of a variety of grilled meat, vegetables, seafood and rice. He finally understands why you’re always homesick because gosh, who wouldn’t miss this kind of homemade food ? Minho props his head onto his hand as he watches your hard-working back figure from the living room, arranging the dishes onto the dining table with a smile on your face. And that stirs something inside him, he just doesn’t want to know it yet.

And Berry - your very much spoiled dog - is absolutely terrified by his dark presence. She keeps barking whenever he tries to pick her up, then ends up whimpering in the corner later. “Berry, don’t be rude ! He’s no stranger to us now.” Your mom nags while looking at Minho with an apologetic look. “Minho, honey, come join us. There’s no need to be so formal.” She offers him a seat at your family’s table warmly and he can already see where you got your smile from.

When he beams at her words and quickly takes the seat right beside you, you secretly roll your eyes at him. “I didn’t know dogs were supposed to be scared of demons. This is so obvious.” As you continue to complain about how he’s not acting naturally and all in a small tone, your hand automatically reaches for the chopsticks and picks out some lamb loin chops onto his plate. Minho simply brushes your words off, muttering a quick ‘thanks babe’ before pressing a kiss on your cheek.

Your eyes widen in surprise at his action, immediately darting towards your family members else whom have already gathered around. But before you can react properly, your dad cuts you off. “How sweet of you two.” He shows that signature ‘dad smile’ which never fails to melt your heart. “Don’t they remind you of us when we were young, dear ?” He tells your mom.

“Certainly, I still remember how—“

“Uhm, so, how did you two meet ?” Your brother - Chan - who’s sitting across the table tries his very best not to gag and changes the topic before things get out of hand. Your dad used to tell you about his first encounter with your mom, their first date and etc.. as an alternative version for the regular bedtime stories session. Chan has known too much already.

“We met at a dinner through a mutual friend during her business trip to Paris. I knew she didn’t come from Europe so if I didn’t ask for her number then, we would never meet again.” Minho has already made up a story during the dreadfully long flight, now all he has to do is read outloud. Easy mode. “We kept in touch and eventually, I moved back to Korea to meet her and stayed with her since then.”

Chan hums as a response, he doesn’t hate Minho yet, you can tell. “Why didn’t you tell me about him, Y/N ? Dad was so close to talking to Felix’s parents about setting you two up.”

You gulp slightly to hide your nervousness. Under the table, Minho squeezes your hand in reassurance, and that gives you enough courage to explain slowly. “I didn’t want to freak you out with our long distance relationship. You might go nuts knowing that I’m dating a guy who I’ve only met once and he’s nearly six thousand miles away.” And setting you up with Felix ? You would never let that happen. Not in a million years. It makes you shiver just thinking about holding your highschool deskmate’s hand while walking down the aisle. “And dad, Lee Felix ? Really ? I would rather be single.”

Your dad laughs. “Come on, he’s a pretty decent boy. Too bad he’s traveling overseas right now or I might invite him over.”

“So, Minho,” Chan sips on his drink. “What do you do for a living ?” When you two arrived at the front door, he finds such little amount that Minho’s luggage holds a bit skeptical, as if your relationship and the idea of coming home happens overnight. And how he wears clothes pretty casual too for a first time meeting the parents but Chan knows better than to judge a book by its cover. However, he wants to make sure that your ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t do drugs of any kind.

Minho doesn’t even hesitate. “I’m a dancer and owns a dance studio with my friend after when I flew back to Korea. I was in Paris for an internship over the summer.” You just sit there, blinking at him in disbelief like a total dumbass. Now you’re starting to wonder how it feels like to dance with the Devil. And if it weren’t for him kicking your leg under the table, your face would have given it away.

“Hmm, interesting.” Chan nods in acknowledgement. Well, at least he’s not unemployed… could have been worse.

Your mom advises thoughtfully as she walks over to the kitchen aisle and refills the plate of beef. “Oh, and be careful with the sauce for the lamb, it’s quite hot. If you’re not good with spicy food, just leave it out.”

“No, it’s fine. Actually, I can handle spicy stuff pretty well.. unlike someone over here.” Minho glances over at you. You immediately gut him with your elbow, earning a low grunt followed by a lighthearted chuckle of your family members.

“Minho can handle spicy things only because he’s getting old. His taste buds are losing their senses.” Your comment is partially true because he once told you that he’s been around for quite awhile. Definitely a lot older than the new batch of demons. He stopped counting at some point but ensured you that it’s somewhere from fifteen thousand and twenty thousand.

Minho looks at your sternly as the corners of his lips curled up. You’re already low-key mortified of what he’s going to say. “If you’re gonna act like a brat for the rest of the night, I’ll have to make sure that your legs will lose their sense by tomorrow morning.” Yep, there it is. You’re so used to his flirtatious remarks to the point that they don’t faze you anymore but having your family witness this is another level of torture. Minho’s definitely the type of guy ( if he were an actual human being ) who can’t be bothered about publicity and would straight up kiss you in the middle of the street.

And it doesn’t help either when Chan just doesn’t laugh loudly at your ‘boyfriend’s’ less than appropriate joke, he’s also on his side. Along with your parents. “I like you, not everyone can make her shut up like that.” Your brother nods in approval, clapping happily like a seal. Your parents even supply unhelpfully. “Try to keep it down and use protection, okay kids ?” Is this what betrayal feels like ?

You feel so adopted at that moment.

six.

“What the hell are you doing here ?” You try to groan as quietly as possible when you find Minho creeping up to you in the living room. “What part of ‘you can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch, wake up before everyone else then come back to my room later on’ couldn’t you understand ?” A compromise was almost made, and he fucking blew it.

He chuckles and looks at you dreamily. For a second there, you really thought that he was sleep-walking. His brown hair is in a bird nest, accommodated by a pair of plaid pants and white t-shirt. This prick never fails to make your heart skip a beat. You’re glad that at least he doesn’t sleep shirtless like your brother. It gives you major nightmares since middle school just by waking him up every morning.

“I can’t sleep on a foreign bed..” Minho pouts. He really can’t, especially when you’re not around. And he’s not risking the chance of one of your folks or Chan accidentally. barging into the room when he’s doing some voodoo shit either.

You huff tiredly and walk over to him, grabbing the pillow from his arms before throwing it on the couch along with your blanket. Well, lucky him, your parents just happen to love ginormous couches and you’re far too lazy to drag him back to your bedroom. “Come here.” You order after plopping yourself onto the soft surface, letting out a prolonged yawn. Minho takes a good ten seconds to look at you again. He can’t help but keep staring like a creep when you’re in an oversized t-shirt with shorts underneath, exposing your bare thighs. You’re too cute for your own good.

You say when he remains silent. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

He obediently nods, quickly settling down under the blanket. You two shuffle around for a bit until no one’s uncomfortable with less than a few inches away from each other. And when you decide to flip yourself over to face the wall, Minho gently pulls your back flush against his chest. Your eyes fly open at the sudden contact. “What-the-fuck-do-you-think-you’re-doing ?” You turn around and stare at him square in the eye.

Even in the dark, his eyes are gleaming with a demonic glint of silver. He beams innocently at your threatening tone. “Get comfortable ?”

“I mean…” You hesitate for a few seconds. Because you’d hate to admit but it does feel kinda nice having his warmth radiating off from underneath his thin shirt. It makes you feel fuzzy inside, more secure, more like you’re finally home. “If you don’t mind then…” You gather up every last bit of courage and energy to scoot yourself towards him, your arms snaking around on either side and hug his torso closer, your face buried in his chest.

And it takes every single strand of willpower for Minho to not jump and teleport to the nowhere. His breath starts to quicken when your body is practically attached to his. He didn’t expect this at all. It might be because you’re exhausted from the flight so you’re just far too sleepy to be conscious of your own actions. But anyhow, he’s not against the idea of having you in his arms like this. It makes him more relaxed knowing that you’re safe in his sound right here.

So Minho drapes one of his arms around your waist to hold you in place and the other underneath his head, straddling his legs with yours to keep them warm since you’re only wearing shorts. “Thanks for dinner, by the way.” He murmurs into your hair, taking in the scent of your familiar shampoo.

“If anything, you should be thanking my parents. They looked like they just saw Jesus when you first arrived.” You say and snuggle closer to him.

He chuckles, sending vibrations to the tip of your nose. “Admit it, your family’s in love with me. Even your brother isn’t half as bad as you made it sound. I think he would actually have nothing against our wedding.”

You make a face and lift your head upwards to look at him. “Dude, it’s just really good acting. Such a shame how the other Lee Minho gets the title of an actor when you’re over here stuck with being a demon.” If you’re being completely honest, you’re kinda scared right now. Because one, all of this is just a big play and when you fly back to Korea, it may seem like nothing has ever happened. And two, if this goes way too far, your family might disown you for ‘breaking up’ with Minho when he wasn’t even your boyfriend in the first place.

“Actually, I’d be glad to take the title of being your boyfriend instead.” And the thumping force inside your chest picks up the pace as you can feel your cheeks heating up. His simple acknowledgement makes you flustered, absolutely moonstruck. No one has ever said that to you before, well, partially because you’re super single but you can’t help but let those words affect you tremendously. “Where do you want to go for our honey—“

“We’re not getting married.” You hiss at him like a snake.

Minho draws a cat-like grin on his lips, mischief glistening in his eyes. “Nuh uh too late. I’ll consider you as my own from now on, Mrs. Lee.”

You reply flatly. “You talk a lot for a demon who treasures their beauty sleep. You’re not vampires and you don’t watch people in their sleep, do you ?” The only person Minho watches in their sleep is you, but he’s not saying that to your face. And that was one time, one-time.

Upon his silence, you raise a brow. “Wait, you do ?”

“Who I watch in their sleep is none of your business, Y/N.” He replies with flaming cheeks.

You giggle. “I knew it, you’re related to Edward Cullen.”

“No, not that bitch Edward !” Minho makes a disgusted face but can’t contain his laughter for long. God, what are you doing to him ?

seven.

You wake up with a cold sensation wrapping around your feet. With body shivering slightly, you instinctively nuzzle your head into the nearest heat source, retreating your legs deeper into the fuzzy blanket. Groaning, you shake your head slightly to shake the weariness away. This is why you hate long flights with a passion because you’re never not gonna be jet lagged for the rest of your life.

“Why do you always wake up so fucking early ?” Your eyes shoot open at the hoarse voice only to find Minho squinting his eyes at you sleepily with his bedhead and wrinkled shirt. He looks so human right now you can care less about the fact that you’ve just spent an entire night on your parents’ favorite couch with a creature from Hell. Definitely boyfriend material.

“My feet get cold easily in the morning, and that wakes me up.” You pout and hold his torso closer. Minho tries his best not to flinch when your arm brushes over his as the strangest warm feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. And you’re glad that he doesn’t snore and isn’t a messy sleeper. Just sleeps like the death, which makes sense. Unlike your best friend, Seo Changbin who sleeps like a fucking starfish with his four limbs wide open. Give him a king sized bed and he can still manage to have his blanket on the floor by the time the sun rises.

Minho runs a hand through the messy bird nest on his head which takes the breath right out of your lungs because it looks like those too good to be true shampoo commercials with people who have shiny, luminous hair. But those models spend hours on a wooden stool for their stylists to make it look like they didn’t even try but they’re not even close to Minho’s league because he needs none of that in order to look attractive.

Finally, he sighs. “Go back to sleep then.” He pulls the blanket down slightly to cover your feet completely and hugs your waist closer so that your upper body won’t be bothered by the morning breeze. “I’ll make breakfast later, what do your folks usually prefer ?”

You look up at him in awe. No one has ever offered such a sweet thing to do when they come over to your house. Not even your relatives ‘cause they’re far too busy bombarding you and Chan with questions about your personal lives rather than helping your parents out with washing the dishes after a meal is done. Minho might look cold and all but it’s all really just the typical demon facade that he’s trying to maintain. He’s actually really caring and thoughtful, you’ve found more sense of morality whenever you look into his eyes deeply than when you look at other people.

“Lee Minho is making breakfast for my family ? What’s this ? Is World War III coming ? Is the world hanging on the verge of ending ?”

He shakes his head at you in disapproval. “I just wanted to do something nice in return to last night’s dinner. Your parents really didn’t have to go all the way to the supermarket just because of me.” And he secretly enjoys seeing you munching happily on the food that he makes. How your cheeks are bunched up when you accidentally take too much of a bite, how your eyes light up in joy when you melt into the taste. He loves you for being you, for going all out without trying to act like a lady, eating quietly and shit.

You think for a bit. “They all have a big appetite, plus they’re not picky so anything will do. Just try to work with things in the fridge that you find promising ?”

“Oh okay.” Minho shrugs before leaning forward to press a kiss on your forehead. “Go back to sleep please, I beg. Jetlag is killing me, or else I’m gonna have to kiss you again and again until you get tired of me and doze off.”

With coral cheeks, you muster the calmest voice possible. “Is that a challenge ? Because if so, kiss me before I kick you off the couch.”  

He smirks at you. “If you’re willing to.” As he leans in closer, you can feel your confidence level decreasing dramatically, your heart feels like it’s running on a treadmill endless. You’re no longer brave enough to keep eye contact so your eyes are screwed shut at some point, waiting for his lips to collide with yours.

Suddenly his phone buzzes obnoxiously on the coffee table, making you two pull away in a hassle. “Sorry, I gotta take this.” Minho says sheepishly as he sits straight up and grabs his phone. The apologetic smile on his face drops when he sees the caller’s ID. He swipes right to answer, placing the cool device close to his ear. “Yeah, Hyunjin ?”

“Hyung, you’re going too far. Come back.”  

eight.

It’s been a few weeks later, and your family can’t stop gushing over how lucky you are to find a boyfriend like Minho.

You start getting daily voice messages from your parents, asking if you’re taking good care of yourself, if Minho’s treating you well, if anything’s been hard lately. Oh boy you sure regret running away before because your parents keep checking up on you every two hours. If not for Minho, they would have made you move back to Australia for who knows how long.

With that being said, Minho is obligated to move in with you. But you’re not complaining at all because cuddling with him is naturally carved into you like second nature. Even Jisung and Changbin didn’t bother to question why you start to have two mugs by the sink, two pairs of slippers by the shoe rack and a foreign smell of cologne all over your couch. They’ve probably figured it out that you got yourself ‘a man’ since the night that you came back to the apartment in such a rush.

And from then, you wonder why you’ve never considered having a roommate before. There are always really shitty excuses inside your head like : what if your roommate has some kind of questionable habits, what if they’re secretly a part of some mafia organization ? But really, it’s because he’s Lee Minho, because you’re too utterly soft for him. Nonetheless, you did learn a few things from spending more time with him rather than locking yourself up with work.

The feeling of having someone waiting for you to come home is beyond heartwarming. And you’ve also learnt to use your time and effort on someone else rather than just yourself. It actually feels really nice because his presence brings more than just a sense of comfort and happiness to you. There’s something about him that’s irreplaceable. As if he’s your soulmate, that one person who adores you to the moon and back, who’s willing to bring out the best in you and deal with you when you’re at your lowest.

But the whole concept of soulmate is still debatable because life isn’t just peaches and cream, it’s roses and thorns.

“Something’s bothering you, tell me.” You make the sharpest of a turn to the left to snap Minho back to reality. You don’t like when people keep ignoring your questions.

“Nothing’s bothering me.” He answers flatly. Obviously, he’s lying because he’s only spoken to you seven words maximum since you started the car. “Follow-the-GPS-to-reach-the-destination.” That’s it. No more. No less.

You scoff. “Something’s clearly bothering you. I don’t need your mind reading crap to know what you’re thinking.” You’re trying so hard not to take an argument out on him, especially when you’re driving to somewhere you don’t even know. But Minho’s not dumb, you bet he already had everything planned out on his mind. There’s a reason for everything, so you don’t have anything against driving in the middle of the night, just because he insisted you to.

He voices. “I’m thinking about surprising you.” And when you glance at him sideways, there are those specks of playfulness glistening in his midnight orbs again. But there’s also something else, and it’s unfathomable. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” He reassures you with a somewhat forced smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Fine.” You sigh in defeat, carefully pulling over not to hit the tree by the road.

Minho jumps out of the vehicle first. “We’re here.” You roll your eyes at him playfully and follows not long after.

And the sight in front of your eyes leaves you speechless. Even in the eerie darkness, your eyes can still make out the vibrant display of multicolored flowers all over the green field. The sweet scent soon fills your nostrils, making your eyes go wide in awe. “Come on, over here.” Minho links his hand into yours and drags you along the dirt road, trying his best not to step on any flower. Once he stops, you realize that you’re in the middle of the field, surrounded by the most surreal things that you thought could only happen in fairy tales.

The sky represents a black curtain being draped over your entire universe, with milky swirls and glitter specks dancing elegantly in various patterns. It’s transcendental, you think. How the sight have all of your worries and concerns disintegrate into dust, how you’re here with him as time seems to stop when he looks at you with nothing but pure devotion in his eyes. You’re hanging by this moment, waiting for him to say something. “Do you like it ?” He breathes out ever so softly.

You nod repeatedly. “I love it, thank you, thank you, thank you !” Mixed emotions burst inside your chest and you unconsciously fall into his embrace as if you were meant to be there all along. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, letting his more than familiar cologne hug you like a warm blanket.

Minho opens his mouth to say something but snaps it close later on. The bitterness inside is making him nauseous, burying every last bit of courage to the bottom pit of his stomach. He has so much, so much to tell you yet nothing comes out right.

He’s the first to pull away. “I’m glad that you like it, Y/N.” Take good care of yourself, okay ?

“Of course I like it, it’s everything !” You smile, not noticing how there are tears brimming in the corners of his eyes when it’s so dark outside.

Minho tries to hide the shakiness in his voice. “Close your eyes, the stars will grant a wish to whoever has enough sincerity and purity.” You’ll be fine without me, will you ?

“A wish ? I guess…” You close your eyes, tightening the grip on Minho’s hands, accidentally ignoring how his hands are getting colder, and colder by the second. “There, I made a wish !” Your eyes fly open as you giggle happily. “We should come here more often, don’t you think ? Promise me that we’ll be here every week.” You extend your pinky finger outwards.

Minho nods, intertwining his finger with yours. “I promise.” I’ll miss you.

As a silent tear rolls down on his cheek, his orbs flash a shade of crimson red.

eight & ½.

Changbin cries out dramatically. “Y/N, a little help over here ? Hello ?” He’s struggling real hard to open the door while carrying the groceries all by himself.

You quickly snap out of it, running to help him with the whopping five paper bags in his arms. “Sorry, I just thought that I saw someone who looked familiar.”

He cranes his neck tiredly after stuffing the bags into the backseats of his Tesla. “Could be some guy who reached out to you before. You know how the industry works, if they want you, they gotta have you. So be careful, creepy people are literally everywhere.”

“Right..” You trail off and jump into his car, shutting the door close. Even when Changbin twists his key and drives away from the supermarket, you can’t help but turn your head constantly to see if there’s anyone. On the way out, you made eye contact with someone, who has an odd ray of red in their eyes. Normally, things like this would have crept you out but you found an unexpected sense of familiarity in those eyes. Perhaps you’ve met before ?

But why… red ?

“Hey Bin…” You start. “Do you believe in soulmates ?”

Changbin snickers. “What the fuck is wrong with you today ? Are you sick ?”

You wave your hand to brush the topic off. “You’re right, I stayed up until three last night, can really use a nap right now.” Maybe everything’s in your head after all.

But little did you know, from across the streets, the silhouette of a demon who once shared unforgettable memories with you is embedded onto the cold brick wall. Minho has his arms crossed in front of his chest, mind blank, eyes empty. He only dares to watch in silence as your friend drives you away, fighting back the voices inside his head that are yelling at him to just hug you, to see your smile, to hear your laughter.

Little did you know, he longs to be by your side again. Minho tried to force himself into hating you but he can’t. He can’t because you taught him how to love, because you mean far more than just the universe to him, because blaming hurts more than trying to forget you. But before things get out of hand, he managed to get a hold of himself and decided to cut ties with you for good.

This is for the better, he keeps telling himself.

People say that there’s no sorrow in the demons. Since joy and sorrow are like fire and ice, there’s no possibilities for them to exist in the same subject. Demons are believed to find joy in those who despise God’s commands, and rejoice over this kind of sinister power. Therefore, there’s no sorrow in the demons. Meaning, demons can never feel heartbroken because they simply don’t have one.

If so, then why can Minho hear something shattering into pieces inside his chest ? That’s because he’s experienced something other demons aren’t supposed to. He finally knows what it feels like to actually be ‘someone’ to someone, what it feels like to think of them all day and smile stupidly about it.

And that’s something other demons are fortunate enough to not get themselves into. Because they wouldn’t want to know how painful it is to not being able to be with their loved one. Demons attract other demons by their scents so if a demon fell in love with a mortal being, that one human will live in constant danger.

Not to mention, it’s going against God to fall in love with someone who’s so different, so out of reach. And Minho could never risk losing you to anything but he can risk it all to protect you.

“I just feel so fucking broken.”

“You’ll be fine.” Hyunjin gently places a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

But it is love after all… what can he do ?

#stayshub #stray kids #stray kids ot9 #lee know angst #lee know fluff #demon au #lee minho #kim woojin #kim seungmin #bang chan #christopher bang #han jisung #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #lee yongbok #yang jeongin #skz fluff #skz angst #skzinc #lee know au #jypnation

[vagrantblvrd]

Going off this post from last night?

But like.

Michael who goes to Los Santos Because Reasons (crime related, because of course) and goes around working for various criminal sorts for a bit before meeting Jeremy.

And then the two of them work together, hire themselves out as a team to criminal sorts and get better jobs and pay from it.

At some point they meet this asshole named Matt, maybe get sent to break his knees (literally or not, idk) and he’s like “Okay, you could do that, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t?” and tells them about their current boss planning on using them as bait or throwing them under the bus or something with this big job the asshole’s planning.

“Yeah? Why should we believe you?”

To which Matt doesn’t have a reason, just “I dunno,” because they do have a point? But also their boss is a shitty human being and they have no problem believing he’d do something like that, and anyway.

Matt’s knees go unbroken (for now) and Michael and Jeremy go back and tell their boss the little bastard Bragg ran off before they could catch him.

Which.

Sus? But their boss doesn’t really care and then shenanigans?

Michael and Jeremy going along like they’re not expecting to get stabbed in the back, and then The Moment comes, but they’re prepared, you know?

Get out of that mess more or less alive and teach their boss a lesson - namely, fucking do not fucking dare - and then become a bit more picky about who they work for.

Fast forward a few months when Matt contacts them out of the blue, all, “So, uh, what’s you’re going rate?” because he’s in trouble and could they maybe keep him alive for a bit, and anyway, anyway.

After several Close Calls and minor misunderstandings Trevor joins their little club.

Because looking for this hacker asshole who ruined a job he was on, but in doing so inadvertently saved Trevor’s life (shitty boss, shittier plans and you just never know what a good hacker can do for you, you know?)

ANYWAY.

The four of them forming this little gang (crew???) if you will and one day deciding to pull a lovely little heist.

Only things go wrong pretty much immediately.

Matt and Trevor are supposed to sneak in and grab some files at A Place they need, and Michael’s in there too to keep an eye on them with Jeremy waiting in an escape vehicle.

Only they get separated and Michael ends up in the room with the computer files they need and Matt and Trevor are ducking security patrols on the other side of the building.

Michael’s like what the fuck does he do now, geniuses, when a ceiling panel slides open and some son of a bitch drops down into the room and -

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Some scrawny asshole in obvious Thieving clothes and hands up having mistaken Michael for security or worse before he turns around and is like ??? and then :DDDDD when he realizes no way Michael is super not supposed to be there.

At all.

“I could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?” the asshole asks.

Michael’s a little thrown by the British accent, because Los Santos? But whatever.

Anyway.

This Thief Asshole gives Michael this onceover, amused as he takes him in in all his lglory, and ends on this crooked little smirk.

“The fuck are you smiling at?”

The asshole laughs, lowers his hands like he thinks Michael won’t shoot him, and glances around the room like he’s trying to figure out what brought Michael there.

The only thing of note is the computer, which.

Fuck.

“Hmm,” the guy says, and gives Michael a more thorough onceover before spitting computer nerdspeak at him.

Obvious test of some sort, one Michael fails miserably if the little snort is any indication.

“Fuck off, asshole.”

The guy hmm’s again and goes over to the computer.

Pauses.

“Would you like a copy?” he asks, and fishes out a couple of thumb drives from the fucking fanny pack he’s wearing. “I brought spares.”

And that’s how Michael meets Gavin, the little shit giving Michael and the others copies of the files they apparently were both after and also how Michael gets shit from Jeremy and the others for forever.

And then!

More heist shenanigans in which Michael ends up running into Alfredo while attempting to steal a car they need for the heist.

(Alfredo’s there to plant cameras and listening devices and look, if they have to work together not to get caught that’s no one’s business so long as Michael got what he was after.)

And then!

More instances in which Micahel’s path and Gavin and Alfredo’s keep intersecting and it’s weird, isn’t it?

Because they keep going after the same things/places, but aren’t in conflict with one another?

Also the flirting.

So much of it, although Michael doesn’t clue in for the longest time, and when he does -

“Are fucking flirting with me, asshole?”

Things have gone to shit and he and Alfredo are in the middle of a shootout. Some assholes with an axe to grind with Michael and Jeremy and bad timing, and Alfredo is having way too much fun for someone trying to stay alive, but whatever, Michael’s likewise enjoying himself.

“Took you long enough,” Alfredo says, shit-eating grin on his face as he shoots some fucker trying to sneak up on Michael. “Gav thought you’d never figure it out.”

Which is also when Michael realizes that not only are Gavin and Alfredo working together for crime purposes, but also flirting purposes.

“What?”

Also, also, Michael gets shot, just a little bit, because what the fuck is his life???

Bullet graze, flesh wound, but enough for Alfredo to go from >:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDD at Michael’s reaction to >:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( I’ll kill you!!! (and meaning it) in the blink of an eye.

Alfredo deals with the rest of the assholes and gets them somewhere safe where he ~tenderly patches Michael up and gets a kiss from him before they go their separate ways.

More shit from Jeremy and company after learning Michael’s going to be okay, and then, like.

Shenanigans - crime-related and not - and Michael learning Gavin and Fredo are after the same guy they are because some assholes from out of town hired them for a job, some big name guys from back east and blah, blah, blah.

Michael and his idiots are just looking to steal some shinies from the asshole, and anyway, it all ends in climactic shootout and shenanigans and Michael getting smooched by that asshole Gavin and his asshole parter (in crime and smooches) Fredo and just.

It’s a mess, you know?

Especially when Michael’s idiots get to meet Gavin and Fredo and Matt’s like “Hey, guys, long time no see,” because of course he knows Gavin, and therefore Fredo and just.

Yeah.

Gavin and Fredo don’t team up with Michael’s idiots because their out of town bosses and other business (Crime) ventures?

But they do take him out on a ~date or two, where smooches and so on are given and Michael’s like how the fuck did this even happen??? because really???

And then the two of them leave town for a bit for business (crime) and when they come back, they’ve got this asshole in a freaking suit and his asshole friend in a Hawaiian shirt and job offers for Michael and his idiots with Gavin and Fredo vouching for them, and anyway, anyway.

Los Santos is like oh, goddammit when the Fakes spread chaos and confusion wherever they go shortly afterward.

Especially when Lindsay and Fiona show up, because seriously.

#ragehappy #mavin #seriously whatever ship name for michael/gaving/fredo??? #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #not as romcom-ish as previously advertised #but still hilarious enough to me #/o\ #long post

[gazingupatthemoon]

Roses Are Red, I Am Not Sharing This Bed (1/1)

Found here at ff.net or A03

Summary: There are only two things Rey likes about Valentine's Day: chocolate and her annual Valentine's Breakfast with her friends. And the only thing that going to threaten that this year is Ben Solo and his stupid desire to be the most boring person alive. Well, not if Rey has anything to say about it. (or, Ben makes Rey stay late at work and one thing leads to another and they get locked in together. Uh oh)

Rating: M

__________________________________________________________________

Rey has a love hate relationship with Valentine’s Day.

For one, she hates it because, the obvious, a day dedicated to love? Come on now. Maybe it’s because she never had anyone to share with it. Maybe. But she can’t help but feel like she’d still hate it. Hearts, and cupids, and everything drenched in red? Nonsense.

But then, there is the two aspects she can’t help but love about it. One, the chocolate. So. Much. Chocolate. It’s like Halloween all over again. She could drown in chocolate and go with a smile on her face. Two, annual Valentine’s Day Breakfast. Sure, she goes out to eat with Finn, Poe, and Rose practically every week, but this one is special. It started out with just her and Finn, years ago, when they had been two single, financially struggling youths who needed a roommate to afford the cost of living in the city. They had gotten drunk the night before the big day, lamenting on not being in relationships and also how much their jobs sucked (jobs, by the way, they still had to go to the next day). Hungover and slightly less miserable the next morning, they desperately needed greasy food in their stomachs in order to go on with the rest of the day. Maz’s Diner has never been more of a godsend.

And so it went on from there.

Finn and Rey just kept doing it, finding the tradition endearing, funny, and, most importantly, an excuse to actually do something on Valentine’s Day. But then Poe got involved. Rey loves Poe, don’t get her wrong. He and Finn had bumped into each other (quite literally) jogging in the park one day. (FYI, Finn’s jogging history lasted approximately a week before he threw in the white flag. Poe is still going strong). The rest is history. Love at first sight and all that. 

So Finn actually found someone else to celebrate Valentine’s Day with. Rey had been bitter for a number of reasons (she still is sometimes when she seems them together and so in love) but she’s happy for her friend, really. But she figured annual breakfast was off the table. Finn, bless his soul, balked at the idea. “We’ll just bring Poe with us!” He had decided without any room for argument.

And then came Rose. After putting up with Plutt’s shit and barely livable salary for what seemed like an eternity, Rey quit his auto shop. Poe promptly swooped into the scene, thrusting a number into her hand for another shop across town that was apparently looking for a new hire.

“Family friends!” He winked with that charming smile of his. “Mention my name and you’re good.”

Poe usually thought too well of himself for Rey to believe getting a new job would be that easy, but she was desperate. She could afford to be unemployed maybe one whole month before things would start getting dire. Finn still lived with her but he was at Poe’s more often than not, and Rey was dreading the day he’d finally up and leave for good.

So she called, and was greeted by the voice of a chipper young woman. “Solo Mechanics! Rose here! How can I help you?”

Suffice to say, she got the job.

Han Solo was a bit old and grumpy, and seemed like he had no desire to hire anyone during her interview. But Rose berated every gruff comment that passed his lips, and pointed out everything wrong going on in the shop every time he insisted that everything was fine. Rey liked her immediately. Honestly, she liked Solo too. His demeanor seemed more a front to her than anything, and besides, she responded much better to sarcastic people in her life. Just easier conversation.

Rose and her became quick friends. Rose did a lot of the paperwork and phones for the shop, but she also worked on some projects herself. She was bright, quick with her hands, and had a profound knowledge of the more technological side of cars and machinery. So when Rose had sighed and sadly complained of being alone on Valentine’s Day, Rey didn’t think twice of inviting her to breakfast.  

So yea, annual Valentine’s Day breakfast maybe one of her most favorite holiday traditions. 

And no one can ruin it except, quite possibly, Ben Solo.

Rey glares pointedly down at her grease soaked hands instead of the offending man in question as he all but shouts his head off at his father.

“You’re spending too much. You’re always spending too much!”

Ben is a sight to see on a normal day. It’s quite another story when he is angry. His massive form quivers with barely restrained rage, his already dark eyes turn near black, and he emits this air of tension that a person can actually choke on. The moment he had stomped his way into the shop this morning, Rey knew it wasn’t going to be good.

Han, for his part, didn’t look too intimated. He actually rolled his eyes at his son’s tantrum. “Ben, you’re overreacting.”

"Have you seen the numbers?"

"The numbers are fine."

"Fine is not good. Fine is fine. We need to be good. Or dare I even hope to say great!"

Rey finally glanced up, if only to send Rose a meaningful look. The other girl has put a hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh in return.

This happens at least once a month.

Though Rose is aware of financial state of the shop, it's not technically her job. It's Ben's. Apparently, it had been an attempt for more father-son bonding, or something like that. Leia never really painted the whole picture to Rey, just sparse details. Ben, who was shit at mechanics (Han's words), had a history in the financial sector so it seemed like the best thing for him to do. But really, it just seems more like an excuse for them to fight than bond.

Han waved a hand in the air. "I've been living off fine my whole life."

"Yea, don't think I'm not aware how well that's been working out for the family."

Rey even flinched at Ben's callous comment. Just another story she is not intimately aware of; the Solo family dynamics. They're not perfect, but who really was? At least Rey also thought of that excuse when Ben made his not so subtle comments. Family was family. It was more than she had ever had. But there is definitely some unspoken and unexplained unrest between them all, Ben being at the center of it all. Rose had even told her once Ben had dropped out of the picture for five years before showing up again. Something about some nasty fall out and a job offer half way across the country.

So yes, Ben Solo was definitely an enigma to Rey.

A real shitty enigma highlighting as the world's biggest ass.

Who, Rey is about to find out, is going to ruin her annual Valentine's Day plans.

Ben seemed to calm down, somewhat, after his blunt comment. He breathed nosily out his nose, and got his trembling down to a simple quiver. "Look," He began through clenched teeth. "It's not just that. There are receipts missing. We have expenses that have no paperwork to back them up."

Han, for his part, seemed to deflate a little as well. "You know I've never been good with that stuff."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Dad. You can't just spend things and not document it. This is a business, albeit a shitty one."

"Watch it," Han gruffed. "Look, I'm sure they're around. We can look-"

"You're leaving in an hour for your trip," Ben reminded him, none too gently. "And Mom will leave you for the fifth time if you're late or make her miss the flight."

A Valentine's Day gift from Han to Leia, a trip to some sunny beach in Florida. Rey had helped him book it herself.

Han scratched at his head. "Shit, forgot about that. Well, when I get back-"

"I need it this week," Ben interrupted again. "Today, actually. The appointment with the tax guy is tomorrow."

"Well can't you reschedule it?"

"It's the only slot our free times coincided."

Rey was now the one to roll her eyes. Of course, Ben Solo would only be free for the foreseeable future on Valentine's Day to do taxes. The comment didn't surprise her at all.

"Well then what do you want me to, Ben?" Han snapped.

"Act like an adult for once in your life-"

"Listen, I'm your father-"

"I could count on one hand how many times you've actually acted like it-"

This was going nowhere good. Rey had seen enough of their blowups to know this. Even Rose was cringing in her seat. Han and Ben could get vicious with each other within seconds, and the collateral damage was always the worst.

"I'll do it!" Rey shouted before another vicious word is said. "I'll help look for the paperwork!"

Han's face immediately broke out in a smile, his relief palpable, but Ben's is a whole other story. Surprise, at first, but it quickly contorts into obvious annoyance. Too bad such a handsome looking face can be scrunched up so grossly.

(Not handsome Rey. Get it together)

Though Rey tries her best to avoid Ben since her time working here, it's surprisingly hard to do so. He keeps his trips to the shop minimum, and yet even then they always wind up bumping into each other. There was the time Rey got grease on his pristine white button down. When Ben had bumped his foot into her tool kit, sending everything scattering onto the floor. Rey not giving in receipts on projects she worked on in the time span Ben deems acceptable. Ben "accidentally" deleting Rey's info on the company website he maintains with Rose.

What makes it worse, though, is when they interact outside the shop.

Despite Han's initial reluctance towards Rey, he warmed up rather quickly. Which meant being invited to the house, meeting Leia, spending hours of time together outside work. It's a sense of family Rey hadn't felt since making her small one with Finn. This family, unfortunately, includes Ben Solo. Who isn't there for all the weekly dinners, but the time he is acts unbearable towards Rey.

There was the accidental dropping of a moat of gravy on Ben's lap. The ongoing saga of who sits on the loveseat (since they will not, by any means, sit next to each other or squeeze between Han or Leia on the couch). Ben conveniently not hearing Rey knock on the door or ring the bell whenever the others are outside and he's in the house. The never-ending war for Chewie's love (yea, Ben has history with the oversized dog, but Rey is definitely much sweeter on him).

Comments on her being a dirty mechanic.

Comments on him being a stuck up white collared jerk.

You get the picture.

So, Rey understands the horrid look Ben is sending her way. It's usually the way he looks at her. But for once, he could possibly be a little more appreciative. It's not like she had to volunteer her time to help fix whatever mistake Han created. She could have easily let the two kill each and walked out the door once the clock hit 5 o'clock.

A look of indifference would even be acceptable.

She doesn't feel even a smidgen of bad when she openly glared back.

Han ignored their heated starring contest. "Thanks, kid. That'd really help."

"Does she even know anything about paperwork?" Ben scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. His very large chest, Rey has noticed more than once. She wished he'd stop wearing such tight shirts. Who the hell did he think he was?

"She," Rey seethed. "Has the ability to read, thank you very much."

Ben smirked nastily. "Well, I had actually been wondering about that, but that wasn't what I had been implying. Do you know where the old man keeps them? Deciphering his nonsensical lingo? How to cross reference them with the main account-" "If you do it, it can't be that hard." God, did he think she was an idiot? Fixing cars doesn't mean you failed out of high school.

Ben doesn't fall for her easy bait. "Rose would be better."

The dismissal and rejection, in one fell swoop, has red beating beneath Rey's cheeks. She wanted to scream at Ben Solo. Hit him over the head. Watch his obnoxiously large body collapse onto the ground.

Rose scurried quickly onto the scene at the mention of her name. "I can't!" She exclaimed, not before sending an apologetic look Rey's way. "My sister Paige is visiting tonight, I have to pick her up from the airport."

Rey had forgotten the other Tico sister was coming to town. Rose had just asked last week if it was okay if she could come to their Valentine's Day breakfast.

Rey hadn't really considered Rose when she had (stupidly) volunteered her help, but something in the back of her mind had hoped the other woman wouldn't let her suffer Ben Solo's company alone.

Now she was truly screwed.

"Looks like you're stuck with Rey," Han grinned, not really sounding sorry at all. "Though I'm sure she's going to regret it more than you. Rose, mind driving an old man home so he doesn't miss his flight and get thrown out by his wife?"

"Sure! But didn't you drive today-"

"I did, but I'll leave the Falcon for you, Rey. Who knows how long you'll be here tonight."

Rey didn't own a car, but did quite well with buses and trains. But Han was always trying to wheedle free rides her way, to which Rey was grateful but didn't need the pity offers. Even if it was the Falcon, the vintage car Rey immediately fell in love with on sight.

"Han, you don't have to-"

"Kid, it's yours. Not like I need it where I'm going. Leia has us getting some damn rental. Keep it till I get back."

It's possibly the most generous offer he's ever forced on her, and Rey's throat wells with unexplainable gratitude.

"Besides," he murmured closer towards her, "See it as a thank you for dealing with my son."

The way Ben's shoulders tense makes it obvious he heard his father's words. Rey convinced herself that she doesn't feel bad. She absolutely doesn't.

Rose and Han leave with a couple more goodbyes then it's just Rey and Ben.

Alone.

"Well, might as well get this over with," Rey announced when Ben didn't make another move.

He's doing his usual brooding, looking all ominous and agitated, and starring anywhere but at her. Her words barely even seem to have an effect, for he just keeps on standing there.

Rey is about to ask if he's having a stroke when Ben sprang to life and dashed off towards Rose's desk. "Ill check here." He threw over his shoulder.

Rey rolls her eyes at his hulkish back. He wanted to keep to opposite sides of the room? Fine by her. _________________________________________________________________

Almost two hours later, Rey has nothing to prove for her hard work save three crumpled up receipts, two unfinished(?) itemized lists, and an aging piece of paper that she cannot make heads or tails of save the dollar amount of $350.00 scrawled on the bottom.

Han's handwriting truly does need its own decoding system.

It doesn't seem like Ben has done much better. Anything they find they put on Rose's desk, so Rey can't help but notice he was adding barely as much as she was.

"This is ridiculous," Ben scoffed at the second hour mark. He's using his long arms to swipe under a cabinet, but is only succeeding at collecting dust balls.

Rey could have gotten a good laugh at how grimy his nice shirt was getting, but Ben, unfortunately, had the foresight to roll up his sleeves.

(Stupid good looking body)

"How does this place even function? We haven't found half of the paperwork we need."

Rey blew out a sigh and collapsed onto a chair. "Beats me. But we've searched this place from top to bottom."

"We obviously have to look harder-"

"It's almost 7 o'clock!"

"You're the one who volunteered to stay! Now you're backing out?"

"I didn't think we'd be here till midnight!"

Ben rose up from his squatted position on the floor and fixed her with a look. "First off, sweetheart, midnight is hours away-"

Sweetheart.

Rey has heard Han say it to Leia millions of times, so the first time it had past Ben's lip aimed at her, Rey had been thrown for a loop. She remembered the red on Ben's face, because it must have equally matched her own. She had accidentally used oregano instead of basil in some sauce Leia was cooking for dinner (which, really, was not even the worst mistake that could have happened) when Ben pointed out the misstep with the offending "Sweetheart" glued to the end. They starred at each other painfully after the utterance, until Ben hastily, and nastily, made some crack about her lack of cooking AND reading skills.

So, unlike his parents, Ben did definitely not mean sweetheart in endearing way when he said it to Rey.

Rey nearly snarled. "I know how to tell the time you jackass!"

"You can read and tell time, I'm learning so much about you today," Ben drawled. "Secondly, if we don't finish this tonight, then we're back here tomorrow morning, early."

That made Rey lose her anger fueled momentum. Tomorrow morning was breakfast. Her annual Valentine's Day breakfast. She was not, repeat, not going to give that up to be trapped here again with Ben Solo.

"Absolutely not!" She protested, hopping up from her seat. "I have plans."

Ben eyes drop down to the floor. "Of course, you do," He murmured so quietly, Rey wondered if he meant for her to hear him at all.

But Rey can't worry about whatever is going on Ben Solo's head. Breakfast was at stake here. The thought made her frantic. She began to dash around the shop, pushing things to the side and squinting into dark crevices. "Fine, let's stay late. Look harder, whatever it takes-"

But Ben wasn't moving. Now he looked at tired as she felt mere moments ago. "No, maybe you're right. It's getting late."

"What? No, you never admit I'm right. C'mon, Han must have stuck them somewhere!"

"Rey, there's a very good chance the old man tossed them and they're rotting in some dump right now. Actually, I'd bet money that's just what happened. Tomorrow morning we can do a final sweep, just in case, but-"

"No!" Rey's voice exploded. It echoed loudly in the shop, a tooth grinding sound that even made Rey cringe.

Ben's mouth closed slowly, whatever other excuse he was going to say dying within, and instead he just simply stared at her. Not glared. Or grimaced. Or even pinned with cold indifference. A simple, curious stare.

It made Rey squirm.

"Is your date that important tomorrow morning?" He asked softly after another agonizing moment.

"I…" Rey steels herself for how ridiculous things is going to sound. And maybe it is stupid. How could she explain it? A dumb get together with her friends on a holiday she has no right to celebrate to begin with? Ben Solo wouldn't get it. How could he? He grew up with family, and traditions, and never having to second guess if tomorrow was the day he'd end up alone again. Sure, she's not celebrating Valentine's Day in the traditional sense with no relationship to speak of, but it's a cherished date of how she and Finn grew close, then Poe, and then Rose.

It's a yearly reminder that she not alone, that she has people who love her.

And Ben Solo would not just understand.

Tears, foolish, foolish tears, burned behind Rey's eyes. She turned quickly away from Ben, giving him nothing but the sight of her back. "Yes," She grit out. "It is."

It's silent again, and Rey can't bear to turn around and see if Ben is looking at her in that open way again. Because then she'd really break. Then she'd really have to face how childishly-desperately-she is holding onto this small thing.

"Fine," Ben said, again so softly. "Let's keep looking." _________________________________________________________________

It's 9 o'clock pm by now.

And really, there's nothing to show for it.

Rey found one more wrinkled paper, but for whatever charges Han had written down, it totaled to a meager 20 dollars.

Ben had come up with nothing else.

Somehow, the whole sticking to separate sides of the room thing ended, for Rey and Ben now sit a few feet away from each other, both on the concrete floor and shifting through shoe boxes Han had stored away in his office.

"He's a slob," Ben growled, picking out a dirty burger wrapper and starring at it as if it was diseased.

"Makes you wonder who raised you, huh?" Rey snarked, throwing a loose penny into the pile of other misplaced change.

Here's hoping she could scurry away with that later.

Ben scoffed. "No one, that's who."

Rey looked at him pointedly. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Say those things? Do you know how much it hurts them?"

Ben frowned down at his shoebox. "Why bother explaining myself to you? You've already decided how you feel about me."

"Because how you act!" Rey argued. How on Earth was he trying to make her feel guilty about this? He was an ass, therefore, she treated him as one. Was that not simple enough? "How you treat everyone around you, especially me!"

"How I treat-come on, Rey. Your mind was made up about me before we even met."

"What are you even talking about?"

_________________________________________________________________

"Ben Solo?" Rey echoed. She gently squeezed the mug of tea more tightly in her hands, enjoying the warmth seeping through her skin.

Heat has been a bitch at the apartment and the Solo's house is nice and warm.

"Leia and Han's son," Poe whispered. He shot a quick look out the window, confirming the couple in question are still outside collecting food from their garage refrigerator. "Kind of the black sheep of the family."

"Why?" Rey asked, her voice dropping as well. She's seen pictures of the so-called son, but has yet to meet the man in person. Apparently, he is coming over today and Rey is more than a bit curious.

She's only a human. She's noticed the young Solo is good looking.

"Up and left to work for some asshole out in California who was running for office. And by asshole I mean like corrupt-movie-villain asshole. Ben and his parents never got along, he was the troubled kid, you know? I was probably the closest thing to a friend he had and there were some days I couldn't stand him. So, him leaving just was the final nail in the coffin."

"Really?" Rey couldn't imagine anyone running away from their family. She'd kill for one, for Christ's sake.

"Yea. After making Han and Leia miserable for who knows how long he came back. The ass he worked for got caught for some shady shit by the feds. But even when he's back he's still a prick to them. I've seen Leia crying more than once over him."

Making Leia cry? Seriously? She was the sweetest, if not formidable, woman Rey has ever met. "Sounds like a monster."

_________________________________________________________________

Guilt licked up Rey's spine as Ben quietly retold the story.

"You…heard that?"

She racked her mind for any hint that Ben had been anywhere in the vicinity when she and Poe had that conversation. But she specifically remembered seeing him appear in the backyard, glumly greeting his parents as they made their way back from the garage.

"I came through the front door," He shrugged. His eyes were fixed on some yarn he had discovered, his large fingers absently running through the knots that had formed. "Heard you and then…just, didn't want to deal with Dameron's bullshit. So, I went back the way I came and came through the back."

Rey must look like a gaping fish. She doesn't know what to say. Sorry? A part of her feels like she owes him one, but a larger, more stubborn part denies the urge. She feels the heat under her cheeks, even an uncomfortable warmth at the back of her neck, and Rey hates that Ben Solo has done this to her. Because he's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. Maybe she slipped up, a little, but didn't he eventually prove her right about the person he is?

"Ben-" Rey finally managed to strangle out.

"Don't," He snapped. His eyes rise from the yarn to level her with a glare. "Whatever it is you're about to say, just don't."

Rey hadn't the slightest idea what she was going to say but his refusal to hear it-whatever the hell it would have been-has her angry. "What the hell is your problem?"

"I told you-"

"I never met you," She interrupted before he could go any further. "And okay, I took a friend's story at face value, because Poe is my friend, and I made a judgment. Shitty on me, I get it. But it's not like you proved him wrong!"

"I don't need to prove anything to anyone." Ben growled.

"Then why bother!" Rey exclaimed. She should shut up. End this stupid conversation and stupid quest for long gone receipts. Leave the shop, go to bed, and go to Valentine's Day breakfast. Forget Ben Solo and the way he looks when talks about his family, the way he sounds, the pain and anger, and why Rey just doesn't understand but some ridiculous lunatic part of her does and she can't just-

"You come to dinners! The shop! You work here, for Christ's sake. You continuously put yourself in the vicinity of people you supposedly hate and I just don't get-"

"Why would you?" Ben cried. He jumped up from the floor and Rey hastily followed him, intimated enough by his height when they're standing that she doesn't need to gawk up at him while sitting. "You never bothered-"

"You never gave me a chance-"

"You never gave me a chance, Rey. Monster, remember?"

"Ben, I said it was shitty of me. But it could have been overlooked or forgiven or forgotten or-"

"People my whole life expected things of me." Ben seethed but anger no longer laced tightly around his words. Now, she could see the vulnerability of his eyes, the quiver of his lip, and the pure desperation that plunged his voice into a deep tone she'd never heard pass his lips. "The son of a politician and retired solider. Uncle in the White House. I was supposed to be someone. To do great things. It was always too much to bear. It was like the only time anyone paid attention to me was when they were checking in on my grades or future aspirations. Never there for just me, though. Just Ben. So I needed to get away. Needed to be my own person. And I…I…"

Rey knows this part of the story. California. The corrupt Snoke. Whatever wonderful life Ben had imagined being destroyed within five years and sending him back home.

But Ben had stopped talking now.

"Why come back then?" Rey asked softly. Because they had gotten this far, why stop.

"Because I…Christ I…" Ben swallowed thickly. "I needed my family."

Rey's heart broke at his words. For the first time in her life, she felt the urge to hug Ben Solo. To let him nuzzle into her embrace, let the tears stuck in his eyes streak down, and whisper words of encouragement, kindness…love.

But it didn't seem like Ben wanted that. For he didn't move closer to her and Rey, too afraid herself, wouldn't risk a step either.

"You can't change the past," Ben began again, taking in a shallow breath. His hands clench at his sides, restless for something out of reach. "I know I did things wrong, but so did they. And…and it's a lost to be forgiven just like that. But they're….I'm…" He swallowed again. "Trying" He finished.

A simply word meant for all involved.

Trying.

Rey wondered if she should begin to do so to.

"Let's go," Rey sighed, tired all over again. She needed it. Ben needed it. Enough was said tonight that they'd didn't need to suffer in each other's company anymore. At least, that's what Rey figured. "This is…we're not getting anywhere."

Ben quietly nodded his head and moved past her. He retrieved his things from Rose's office and Rey did the same from her own employee locker.

They both met awkwardly at the back door.

"I'm sorry," Rey blurted out before she could think better of it. But for what, she's not sure. The failed attempt to get the receipts? Making him confess so many personnel things? Being, as usual, a thorn in his side?

Ben, as well, seemed to be as unsure to what forgiveness she was seeking. But he doesn't question her. Thankfully (or unfortunately?) he didn't. He just nodded and placed his hand on the doorknob.

Funny thing is, it doesn't turn.

_________________________________________________________________

"Rose, what the hell?"

"Oh my God, Rey, I am so, so, so, sorry!"

Ben had his arms across his chest, starring at Rey with a hint of annoyance.

Rey, on the other hand, is openly fuming. She might crush her cellphone in her fist right then and there.

"Rose, this can't-no, just no, this can't be happening. There's no way I-we-are locked in here all night and that-"

"Rey, it's a new system!"

This does, unfortunately, register in Rey's mind. They had gotten a new security set up last week when Han swore they were missing some parts. Rose was given the task, and that was really the last Rey heard of it.

"I'm always the last one at the shop!" Rose continued desperately to explain. "And typing in a code wasn't working, for some unknown reason. The stupid thing wouldn't save it! I'd always have to put a new one in! And I've been on the phone with the company ten times, I swear, and they said they were going to send someone down but they're booked the next few weeks-"

"Rose-"

"Using facial recognition just made sense-at the time. And-and I forgot today that you'd stay late-but Rey! The whole thing locks down at 8 pm. What are you still doing there?"

Rey wanted to groan aloud. So she did.

Ben raised one his eyebrows at her.

"We couldn't find what Ben wanted," Rey explained. "We didn't know this place was a ticking time bomb ready to trap us."

"I know, I'm sorry! I should have warned you regardless. Christ, I feel like crap."

"Rose, can't you just-" But Rey knew the answer before she could even finish.

There isn't any airport in their town. The closest one was a three hour drive. It's why Han and Rose needed to leave so quickly today. Rose had specifically gotten a hotel room for the night knowing once she picked up Paige it would be too late to drive back.

They were stuck.

"Rey, I'm sorry. We're leaving bright and early tomorrow-"

"I know, I know."

It was a small consolation, knowing at least she wouldn't miss breakfast. Rose had said she was heading straight there once she and her sister made it back in town.

"Rey-"

"Rose, it's…fine. We'll just make do."

Make do.

All night.

In a locked auto shop alone with Ben Solo.

Fantastic.

_________________________________________________________________

"What are you doing?"

Rey had made camp on the shop's ancient couch, something apparently older than Han itself. But it was soft, if not a bit smelly, and its patches made it all the more endearing to Rey. Worn and loved, as all things should be.

And she was definitely claiming it before Ben's monstrous form could.

There was the paper-thin mattress with lumps the size of rocks in the back Han usually slept on when Leia kicked him out (which, fingers crossed, hadn't happened for a good year).

But instead, he had disappeared into Han's office while Rey got comfortable, only to come back with a large bottle of brown liquid.

"Whiskey," he simply said.

Rey scrunched her nose. "You're going to drink?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Because-" Well, she supposed there wasn't really a good reason not to. It would certainly make the time go faster and sleep come quicker. Make this whole nightmare just come to a much-needed end.

During her silence, Ben had the audacity to plop down beside her on the couch. The furniture groaned a bit and Rey squawked in indignation.

"I am not sitting on the floor," He proclaimed and opened up the bottle.

"You are so-"

"Be nice or I won't share."

Well, he had her there.

_________________________________________________________________

Ben hadn't bothered with glasses, so the two are taking turns swigging down the whiskey.

Rey coughed each time.

Ben barely hides a smirk each time she does.

"What's California like?" She asked after another embarrassing sputter.

Ben tensed beside her.

"I mean," Rey's tongue felt immediately thick. "I wasn't asking to be rude. I-uh, I'm just curious. I've never been. It's looks…" Beautiful, she had wanted to say. But her tongue felt too twisted to get it out. She took another swig before handing the bottle over.

Ben relaxed, somewhat, but still eyed her a bit warily. "It's overrated."

"Really?" It seemed like a ridiculous notion. "But the beaches-"

"If you hadn't noticed by the color of my skin, I'm not much one for sun."

"But…all that blue!" Rey continued to argue. "It must be something!" Endless seas, bright skies, the smell of fresh air, and vibrant colors that seem too good to truly exist. How could anyone ever deny such an image?

Ben wiped at his mouth after a long sip. "It's something all right. It was a place to escape, not some pipe dream I had since childhood. I would have run to Alaska had it been an option. Hell, even out of the country but I had sat on my ass getting a passport."

A sour Ben Solo dressed in all black on a beach in California had Rey shaking and coughing up loud, broken laughs. "Only you would willingly run away to somewhere that would make you miserable."

Earlier, that might have caused another fight between them. But now, even Ben couldn't hold back a soft smile.

"I liked my apartment." He added shyly, catching a noiseless moment between two of her googling noises. "It was quiet. And mine. The first thing I really got for myself."

Rey calmed herself down to regard him and the soft, genuine admission. Eventually, she found herself retuning his smile. "That seems nice. That's going to be me soon."

Ben looked at her questioningly.

"Well, he hasn't out right said it, but Finn will be moving out soon. He and Poe have been together, for like, ever and he can't want to be strapped with me for much longer."

"You don't sound too happy."

"I am!" Rey argued but she knew how she sounded. Weak. Fake. Barely holding it together. The alcohol was stripping away her attuned ability to hide behind a mask. "I mean, I am-I'm happy Finn and Poe have each other. I don't wish that away."

"But?"

"But…" Rey sighed, her head falling back onto the muddy couch. When the dark colors of the ceiling began to swirl, she closed her eyes. "I'll be alone, again. I guess I should be used to it."

Ben was silent beside her.

"I-I just thought. I don't know, it was stupid whatever I thought. That Finn was going to stay with me forever? That's ridiculous. I know that. I do. But now-now that it's actually here…and happening and I-I…"

Her throat dried and shrank, and Rey could barely continue to speak let alone breath.

"He's moving out of your apartment, not your life." Ben whispered close to her ear. "It's going to be okay, Rey."

"I know, I swear-"

"Do you? It's okay to break down. To let it all out. A lesson I wished I learned a little earlier."

"Ben," Rey laughed and turned to face him. Oh, was he close. He must have shifted during her little tantrum, his leg now brushing her own and his breath blowing softly onto her cheeks. The shop's aging lamps cast their faces in a dark glow, an eerie yellow with just a tinge of green, but Rey could see just see how deeply brown his eyes were now. How they seemed to smolder as they stared down at her. Too burn.

She stared, suddenly forgetting whatever it is she was going to say. "I…" Her tongue darted out, sliding against her dry bottom lip.

Ben's eyes dropped down to it, following the motion slowly.

"I'll be fine," She finally whispered out. Her voice felt as dry as the rest of her. "I will."

His eyes slowly crawled back up her face, reuniting with her gaze. "You have more than Finn, you know."

Rey should have looked away or put some distance between them. They were drinking, and alone, and this was bound to end up nowhere good. But those eyes. She couldn't look away from them. And the way he was speaking to her, so hushed, so intensely.

Ben took her silence as reluctance.

"You're not alone." He repeated again, louder and firmer.

The small increase of volume had her straightening up, ever so slightly. If anything, the movement only made her slide closer to Ben. Their shoulders pressed against each other now.

Rey whispered back, "Neither are you."

And this was it. The moment they would kiss. She'd seen the movies. Read the books. Hell, she had her own fair share of in real life moments. Stories being shared. Voices hushed. Faces angled. Liquid bravery coursed through their veins and all Ben needed to do was lean his head down just a bit closer.

But it's not what happened.

An indecipherable look crossed Ben's features and before Rey could even process what it was, he was pulling away. The couch groaned, seemingly just as pissed as Rey, as he rose up, all but running away from her and towards the back of the shop.

"I need to use the bathroom," He called over his shoulder.

The door slammed shut behind him.

"What the fuck?" Rey hissed into empty room.

Because what the fuck?

It's her own fault, she supposed.

What was she thinking, Ben Solo wanted to kiss?

Sure, they had climbed over some walls tonight. Bared some parts of their souls and connected in a way they never really had the chance too since meeting each other.

But that didn't erase the past. Hadn't that been what Ben said? Maybe they could forge some kind of friendship after tonight, but it wasn't like a shared bottle of whiskey and some whispered confessions was going to speed them past go and straight to kissing.

It was only four-five-six(?) hours ago they hated each other.

Rey rationalized all of this as she sat alone on the couch. The now very, very empty couch without a certain man's hulking presence. But that didn't stop her from continuing to chug down the bottle. Or quell down any of her anger. Or have the sting of rejection lessen.

Because now it was near midnight-or one? Rey couldn't read the clock right. But whatever, it was Valentine's Day. Great. She had gotten rejected on Valentine's Day. One of the exact things she specifically tried to avoid during this damned holiday.

And rejected by Ben Solo no less.

Her knuckles were white, twisted around the neck of the bottle when Ben reappears.

He's shuffling on his feet, and his hair looked like he ran his fingers through it about fifty times. He's looks wrecked, to put it bluntly, and Rey wonders what hell trouble he could have gotten into in a bathroom the size of a shoebox.

His eyes breezed past her to land on the bottle. "You're still…drinking?"

He sounds so very confused that Rey bristled, misinterpreting his tone for judgment. "Is there a problem?"

"Ah, no-that's…do what you want." He finished lamely. His eyes are now everywhere but her. "I guess I'll head to bed now."

"So early?" Rey snipped. "What a lightweight." She's being mean, and it would probably be best for both of them if he did just go to bed. Certainly for Rey who just wants blood at the current moment and will probably regret this come morning.

Ben frowned down at his feet. "It's late."

"If you think after tonight I'm coming in to work tomorrow-"

"Well, I have a meeting tomorrow."

"A tax meeting on Valentine's Day, how romantic."

Oh, that got him to finally look at her. Glare, more like it. "As if it's any of your business what I do or don't on Valentine's Day."

"I could care less!" Rey agreed with a shout. The liquid in the bottle sloshed along with her. "But I'm here tonight because of you and your stupid receipts!"

"You volunteered-"

"I was doing it for Han-"

"Well God bless you and your love for Han-"

"Christ!" Rey snapped and hopped to her feet. Bottle still clutched firmly in hand, mind you. "Here we friggin go again. You and your God damn comments!"

Ben ran a hand through his hair. Tugged it so painfully, actually, there was no way some of those luscious black strands were not getting pulled out. "What the hell do you want from me, Rey?"

"Man up and drink with me!"

Oh yea, because that was the right thing to say at a time like this.

_________________________________________________________________

"This is fucking ridiculous."

The volume of Ben's voice implied he wanted to have kept the comment to himself, but he and Rey were sitting way too close for her not to hear.

For the sake of her sanity, and for this stupid game she had started, Rey chose to ignore it. "Pick a damn card."

"This is meant to be played as a group, Rey."

"We can play Kings however we want to play Kings."

"Rey…"

"Drink," She commanded, pushing the bottle towards him.

Ben looked at her incredulously. "I didn't even pick a card!"

"You're complaining. New rule, you complain, you drink. So drink."

His lips (plush, damn lips) thinned into a line. But he took a swig without another word, slamming the bottle a little loudly back onto the ground.

"Good, now pick a card please."

Ben sighed and flipped the one nearest to him. "Five"

"Guys!" Rey chirped.

"Me? Again?"

Rey motioned toward the bottle.

"Looks like you're just trying to get me drunk."

"Yes, thank God, now you get it."

Ben shook his head and tipped his head back.

Rey definitely did not watch the way his neck bobbed as the liquid slid down.

"Your turn."

Silently, Rey flipped a card and immediately smiled. "Well you just got lucky, Solo. You just got a date."

"Rey, that means we're going to be drinking every single turn."

"And the problem is?"

Ben rolled his eyes.

"Come on! You just scored yourself a date on Valentine's Day! Much more exciting than your stupid tax date."

A lovely red colored Ben's cheeks. "It's not a date. And maybe you should slow down for your date tomorrow."

"Oh yea, because me being hungover will put a big stop to those plans. Now your turn, let's go!"

Ben's brow furrowed, and Rey could clearly see a question forming behind those expressive eyes. But whatever it was, he thought better and stopped himself. Still blushing, though, which was interesting. It was hardly anything but a fun tease she had delivered him, why was he being effected so? Rey almost asked that question herself when Ben turned up a new card. "Jack"

Rey grinned. "Never have I ever."

"Of all the childish games-"

"Three fingers up, let's go! I'll go first. Never have I ever, been out of the state."

Ben's eyes narrowed. "Cheap shot. Alright, never have I ever, had a date on Valentine's Day."

"How dare you. We are currently-"

"Not dates, not because of this stupid game. You know what I mean."

Rey huffed and, even though she didn't need to yet, grabbed the bottle of whiskey. It was getting much, much lighter. Not a good sign for this night. Especially with this next awfully embarrassing admission, "Well, jokes on you, we're both losers." Worse, her own situation was keeping her from mercilessly teasing Ben for never having a date.

Ben's mouth slid open, then closed, and that innocently, stupid, confused look graced his features once more. "But you said you had a date."

"Well yea but not a date-date."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It's not…" Rey huffed. "Every year me and Finn go out to breakfast for Valentine's Day. We were poor and single and hungover and it was fun so we just kept doing it. So now Poe and Rose come too, and it's kind of a tradition, and I really didn't want to miss it before when you threatened to let this stupidity spill into tomorrow morning."

The dull tick-tock of the clock, hung crookedly over Rose's office door, followed her slurred explanation. A tick-tock that thumped too loudly in her head, possibly even her heart, but why? She didn't say anything important. Not really. And yet it sounded like she did. Ben was looking at her like she did. Like her rushed and drunken explanation of a silly breakfast was actually admitting to…to…

To what?

To-

"Oh." Ben said simply. Just that. Oh.

God, she must be more drunk than she realized. Making up looks Ben was shooting her. Making up that there was something between them. That she said something that actually meant something deeper. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had rejected her once, did he need to do it again?

"What a self-sabotaging move, Solo," It was a hasty and obvious attempt to redirect the convo. Pathetic, too, in Rey's own opinion. "Trying to take me down while admitting you've never had a date. Not exactly suave."

"My turn," Ben said instead. "Never have I ever-"

"Wait, it's not your turn-"

"Not had a crush on one of my coworkers."

"A double negative? Seriously Ben? That's so stup-" Oh. Oh wait.

What had he just said?

Coworkers. He didn't have a crush on one of his coworkers. No- wait, right, double negative. So, Ben did have a crush on a coworker. Which were-who were-ah, "Rose?" Rey blurted out, confused and more intoxicated by the second.

"What? No, God Rey, not Rose."

"Well not Rose, then-" Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Her. It was her. She was the only other option. The only other coworker.

Ben Solo had a crush on her.

Rey starred dumbly at his ridiculously handsome face. Which yea, she was going to admit to that now. Because he just said he had a crush on her. And if he could admit that, then she could admit how hot-God damn hot-she found Ben Solo.

And she was starring way too long at this point.

"Rey?" Ben asked.

"I'm processing."

"Oh. Um, is that…good?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I don't know, I'm processing!"

"Look, if it's easier-just forget it. I'm drunk. I'm sorr-"

Rey's hand shot up, covering his stupid (no, perfect, she was calling it perfect now) mouth. "Don't you dare apologize. Explain first."

From beneath her palm, Ben mumbled, "Explain?"

A tingling wave of pleasure swept up Rey's arm and down her spine, the feel of Ben's lips moving against her skin too good to believe. She wanted the sensation elsewhere. Everywhere. On her lips, her neck, her-

Rey gasped. Out. Loud.

The image of Ben's head buried in her chest, between her breasts. Her hands in his hair, grabbing those black locks herself, feeling how soft they were. Finding out why he liked to run his fingers through them himself so friggin much.

"Rey?"

She swallowed thickly and pulled her hand back like Ben was an oven and she was a foolish child who didn't know any better. "I…" The images wouldn't stop. Ben mumbling against her skin, deep, husky words in between sloppy kisses. Shit, her nipples were hardening underneath her shirt. Which was nothing but a dumpy white tee, dirty from a day's work and sweat covering a bra that desperately needed to be replaced and held absolutely no cushioning. So if Ben was to look, oh yea, he would see the effect he was unintentionally having on her.

"Are you okay?" Ben asked, completely oblivious to her struggle. He even leant forward, reached toward her with a hesitant hand-

With a squeak, Rey slipped backwards with an embarrassing plop right down on her rump. "Fine! I'm fine!"

Ben frowned but withdrew his hand. "Okay. I just-look, forget it, like I said."

"No!" Rey cried. Because that was absolutely the last thing she wanted to do, even if she was acting like a confused mess right now. "I don't want to-look, just…I thought you hated me? Don't you hate me? The way you act…"

"It's not as if you treat me any better."

Rey crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not the one who just admitted to having a crush."

"Fine. Just fine, you got me there. I," Ben breathed loudly through his nose. "Look, what we talked about before. The conversation I overheard between you and Poe? Shockingly, it sent me on edge. And, shocking yet again, I lashed out. Then it was like I couldn't stop. Because of course you gave as good as you got, why wouldn't you the way I was acting? I even admired you then when you were biting my head off. And I-shit, I'm really pouring out my heart here, Rey. We got so far down that road it was like I couldn't turn around even though I wanted to."

The picture was so clear. Rey didn't understand why she hadn't pieced it together herself before Ben's confession. Because why wouldn't the hurt boy turned still healing man trust anyone new in his life? Especially some stranger, who had never even met him, and had called him a monster? Why would he be kind? Or trusting?

It wasn't so simple. Obviously. He wasn't blameless either nor was she completely guilty.

And apparently the ball was in her court of where this night was going to head.

"It's my turn," Rey said finally, holding up her two fingers.

Ben's lips curved downward. His whole demeanor seemed to sag.

"Ben," Rey prompted, nodding toward his hand. "Please."

Weakly, he raised his two fingers.

"Never have I ever kissed a Solo."

His eyes snapped up towards her.

She was too shy to do anything but grin in return.

Silence ensued for a moment, and it had Rey ridiculously thinking that maybe she had got something wrong. But then, "Is that a statement, or a challenge, sweetheart?"

Funny, that was the first time he ever used that nickname in a non-mocking way.

Rey wondered if he had always wanted to say it to her like this. She didn't have to time to ask, or even ponder, because she leant forward without another word and Ben happily met her half way.

It was tentative, at first.

Both were still a bit unsure, and perhaps a bit too drunk. Ben was gently moving against her lips, navigating their shape before settling on her bottom one and sucking softly. Rey gasped when she felt the tug of his teeth, and it was all he needed to slip his tongue inside.

Hands were suddenly at her hips, dragging her across the concrete floor and making a mess of their forgotten King's game. Rey moaned when Ben lifted her onto his lap and right against the seam of his pants.

Her hips rolled without a conscious thought, and now Ben was the one groaning.

"Rey," He whispered, pulling back to look at her. "You don't know how long I-"

"Me too," She gasped, arching against him. Ben was now meeting her movement with thrusts of his own, as well as she could manage on the hard floor. "God Ben, me too."

His hands gripped her waist, directing her to go harder, faster against him. "Fuck," He hissed, looking down to watch them move against each other. "Sometimes I didn't even need to come here, I just wanted to see you."

She closed her eyes and leant her head back, surrendering to the sensations ravaging her body. Ben immediately took it as invitation to suck happily down her neck, his tongue lavishing her skin as he gave quick nips here and there.

"You were infuriating," Rey breathed when he latched down a particular spot that had here seeing stars. "Fuck, you're still so fucking infuriating."

Ben let go and gripped the back of her neck, pulling the hair back there to angle her lips toward his. "You fucking love it." He growled before catching her in a brutal kiss.

Their movements were getting too sloppy, too fast. Rey was helpless to do anything but chase the pressure that was nearing its edge. She let out a whimper when her legs began to tremble and Ben gripped her ass with kneading hands.

"Cum for me," He ordered, again sucking her bottom lip into his mouth, "Fucking cum for me right now."

Yes, it was right there. His hands. His voice. The feel of his cock, covered by his pants, but large and thick enough to create delicious pressure against the seam of her own jeans. She drew down just a little harder, felt his lips bite her neck again in what must be leaving a mark-

"Ben!" She cried and it all exploded.

"Fuck Rey," He groaned, bucking up harder. She was nothing but air now, weightless and buzzed, but felt him use her body for his own release. "So perfect, so good. Fuck, fuck-"

A brutal groan escaped him with one more thrust, and then they were both still and panting.

Sweat dripped down between her breasts (which shit, he hadn't even got to explore) and Rey could feel her hair, loose and knotty, beginning to stick against her neck. Her knees were also starting to hurt, and she couldn't imagine the effect the floor was having on Ben. But he seemed content to just hold her tightly against him, his face buried in her neck while he took in deep breaths.

"Ben," Rey whispered, taking the still moment to card her fingers through his hair. And oh yes, it was everything she'd ever dreamt about. She was definitely never going to stop doing this whenever she could. "I must be hurting you."

"Worth it." He mumbled, still not moving. But his thumbs began to stroke circles on the skin peeking out between her shirt and pants.

She giggled, the sound soft and sweet and so very, very welcome. Ben's lips even curved into a smile at the sound of it. "We could do this somewhere more comfortable."

"If you're suggesting that piece of rock in the back-"

"The couch, tighter fit but more comfortable."

He finally pulled back to look at her, his face so calm and care free it must have been the first-time Rey had ever saw him like this. "I don't mind the fit."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, you don't."

As they both got up and settled down onto the couch, Rey more or less having to drape herself over Ben (though no one was complaining), one more question occurred to Rey before sleep finally took over.

"Ben?"

"Hm?"

"Never have I ever brought a date to my Valentine's Day breakfast."

His hand stroked up her back, resting in her hair to gently massage at her scalp. She practically purred like a cat, nuzzling her face into his chest.

"Well, let's see what we can do to change that."

_________________________________________________________________

"So you found them sleeping? Together?" Finn hissed, leaning towards Rose.

The girl nodded her head esthetically, stealing a glance over at the couple in question. "I thought I was dreaming. Or maybe one of them was dead. Or like, it got so cold they needed body heat or something. I had to get Paige out of the car to make sure I wasn't hallucinating."

Maz was currently giving them, well, more Ben, a harsh talking to about visiting her more often. Rey was gazing adoringly at Ben, who was standing like a chastised child, as Maz rambled on. And they were holding hands.

Like, seriously, holding hands.

Poe took a sip of his mimosa. "Never thought I'd see the day Ben Solo got a girlfriend."

"Never thought I see the day Rey got a boyfriend!" Finn countered.

Paige smirked. "Seems like they're a match made in heaven then."

"More like hell." Poe mumbled, earning him a biscuit at the head from Finn.

"Well," Rose picked up her menu, beginning to absently flip through it. "Maybe this means less blow ups at shop. I could do with a more stress free working environment. And Han and Leia are absolutely going to freak."

Poe took on a devilish grin. "You're going to eat those words, Tico. There's certainly going to be more of something at the shop. A different kind of yelling, if you get my drift."

Finn slapped his boyfriend on the shoulder. "You're disgusting."

"Love you too. Happy Valentine's Day!"

#reylo #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #reylo ff #roses are red I am not sharing this bed

[stormtrprinstilettos]

 Chameleon - Ch. 1

Summary: Reader (that's you!) moves to London, hoping to leave her past behind and find happiness. She makes friends with her new neighbors. (Guess who?) I can't summarize the entire story because, well, I don't even know where it's going or how it's going to end.

Word Count: 4,252  || AO3 link here

Notes: This is my first fanfic! I'm kind of nervous about sharing it, so please, be gentle. First chapter here gives the backstory. This isn’t going to be historically accurate, because it’s fiction. I don't even know which direction it's going to go, so like every girl should do when she's trying to decide between two guys, I'm weighing the pros and cons... You’ll get your smut - just have to follow along. *wink wink*  Hope you enjoy this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

You were in the taxi on a gloomy, rainy Sunday afternoon headed to the only place in the world you wanted to be, replaying the events of the last seven years in your head. They had been nothing but a big, nauseating roller coaster ride that you were barely strapped in for, and all you wanted was normalcy for a change. You wanted – no, you needed to prove to yourself that you didn’t need to depend on anyone, that you were perfectly capable of not being the massive fuck up that your dad always told you that you were whenever he was on one of his drunken rampages. The only person who ever gave you any semblance of encouragement, your mom, had passed away when you were 14. By the time you were 16 you left home, tired of being your dad’s figurative punching bag. Mark, the older guy you met a few weeks before leaving, promised he would take care of you, and you believed him. It only took a few months for you to become his literal punching bag, but you believed him when he said he loved you, so you forgave him every single time.

When you were 18, you went back home, deciding that it was time to grow up. Your dad offered you a job at his company, and you thrived, but he never missed a chance to let you know that you were still a massive fuck up. He had a fatal heart attack a year later, and then you ended up with his money, his house and the flat in London that your grandmother left him when she passed away. Mark showed back up, said he was a changed man, and, as always, you believed him.

You didn’t want to stay home anymore so you left, leaving the business in the hands of the people who knew what they were doing. You wanted to travel and took Mark along as your companion. You and your mom traveled a lot when she was alive, and you missed her – you needed her – and thought that going back to the places the two of you loved would somehow bring her back in whatever form she could return. You should have been happy, but you were miserable, thanks to Mark. One day he decided he wanted to go to India and change himself after reading an article in some magazine about how The Beatles did this transcendental meditation stuff, so you went to the airport in Paris, bought him his plane ticket and that was the last time you ever saw him.

When he left for India, you left to go back home, determined to grow the hell up, maybe go to college or something. You didn’t know, or care, but you wanted stability… normalcy. You were 21 at this point and it was time to be a big girl. You met with your father’s best friend, Jake, who was also his business partner, one night so he could go over the stuff about the company that you didn’t even care about. You woke up the next morning with him laying next to you in bed. The only thing that bothered you about it was the fact that it didn’t bother you at all.

And so that’s how it continued. Jake would run the business, he’d come over once a month to go over to give you updates that you didn’t even care about, and he’d wake up in your bed the next morning before going home to his wife. Soon it started to get to you that when he wasn’t around, you weren’t getting that affection, so you had to go find it somewhere else. Attention equaled affection, self-destruction was your therapy, and you needed both. You didn’t even remember their names most of the time, but it didn’t matter, because you’d probably never see them again anyway. None of it bothered you, because if you had any combination of alcohol, drugs and sex, you were okay. Anything to make you not have to deal with reality.

Everything was fine until Jake’s wife figured out what was going on. He gave you the whole sob story about how he loved his wife but she just wasn’t satisfying him so that’s why he would sleep with you, and how she would take the kids and half of his money and...  blah blah blah  , you thought. You rolled your eyes as he was telling you because you really didn’t care. The only reason for him to exist in your world was to go down on you (because the actual sex wasn’t even good) and take care of the business affairs that you had no clue about. His wife demanded that he buy out your share of the company, so you agreed, and just like that he was gone.

One morning - or afternoon, rather - you woke up with another massive hangover and another random person in your bed. As you stumbled to get a drink of water, you caught a glance of yourself in the hallway mirror and stopped to look at yourself. Your bloodshot eyes, your hair a knotted mess, mascara running down your cheeks, lipstick smeared all over your face. “You really are a massive   fuck   up,” you told yourself. The only way you were ever going to fix yourself was to change everything - your attitude, your friends, your surroundings… everything. You called Sam - he was your financial advisor of sorts, the one who took care of your money so you didn’t blow everything - and told him you wanted to go to London. He took care of the arrangements, and now here you were. Rain beating on the taxi window as the driver pulled up to the sidewalk to let you out.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰  

“Here you are, Miss,” the driver said as he parked the car and snapped you out of your thoughts. “We can wait until the rain stops if you’d like.”

“No, that’s alright,” you say with a smile. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

He jumped out of the car, came around to your door to let you out, pulled your two suitcases out of the trunk as you took the money out of your purse to pay him. He offered to help you bring your bags in, but you insisted you could do it yourself, so you exchanged pleasantries and he was off.  

You proceed to attempt to drag your suitcases up the steps to the front door, making things more complicated than they needed to be, just like you always do. They were both way too heavy for you to handle alone, and you could have kicked yourself for not taking the taxi driver up on his offer, but you took the whole “I need to do things on my own” pep talk you gave yourself just a bit too literal. You start to lose your grip on one of the bags, so you let it go, intending for it to stay on the step until you got the other one inside of the door, only for it to go barreling down to the sidewalk.

"Of course," you murmur to yourself. You let go of the other suitcase to chase after it, not thinking, and that one also fell to the sidewalk, and that was all it took to break you. You sit on the steps in the rain, let your head fall into your hands, and allow the tears that you had no idea you had been holding back to flow.

"You alright?" a voice asks. You don’t move. You’re too embarrassed. The voice gets closer. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need some help?" You feel a hand on your shoulder, which you find quite comforting. You slowly lift you head and turn towards the voice. "Are you alright?" the voice asks again, for the third time. "You don't look alright."

You study the face in front of you, not knowing how to answer. No, you aren’t alright, but who is this person and why is he concerned? He looks kind enough. You can tell he is genuinely concerned, but you’re afraid if you speak you’ll let out everything that’s going on in your head. You don’t know this person and he doesn’t need to deal with it. He smiles, not showing his teeth, which you can tell he’s trying to hide, but you aren’t really even focused on that. His eyes. You feel such a comfort in his eyes. "Do you need some help?" You nod, finally acknowledging the fact that he is speaking to you and give the stranger a thankful smile. "Alright, let's go then." He jumps up and walks down the steps, and you follow. You each grab a suitcase and walk back up the steps. "Fuck's sake, what do you have in this thing? Everything you own?" the stranger complains about the weight of the bag but doesn’t seem to struggle with it.

You look back and giggle, "Well, that one has half of everything I own. This one has the other half."

"Oh! She speaks!" the stranger exclaims over-dramatically. "I was beginning to think you were mute!"

You smile sheepishly and explain. "No, I'm not mute. I've just had a long flight in and am having a shitty day. You're the first person I've encountered since I got on the plane in New York that hasn't been absolutely dreadful from the start." You pause, waiting at the door for the stranger to make it up the last few steps. "Thank you so much for the help."

"Not a problem, doll," the stranger replies, looking quixotically into your eyes. "You're not from here."

You laugh, "What gave it away?"

"Your hair," the stranger replies sarcastically. "No one in the entire United Kingdom has hair like that." You both laugh. "I'm Freddie," the stranger says as he extends his hand. "I live here with my two friends. Well, they live there. I'm just staying with them until I get a place of my own. So I suppose I do live here, just temporarily."

"Y/N," you answer as you shake his hand. "I'm Y/N. It's nice to meet you, Freddie."

Freddie helps you carry your suitcases into the flat, taking the opportunity to glance around the inside. "We were wondering why this place was locked up with no one living inside, but it looks like someone does?" He noticed the place was fully furnished, only all of it was covered by sheets.

"Yeah, this was my grandma's place." Your voice trails off as you look around reflectively. "I haven't been here since she passed away." You take a deep breath, snapping yourself out of the sentimental journey you were about to embark on. There was plenty of time to do that, and you knew you would, but you wanted to be alone when it began. Freddie had already seen you crying and looking like a drowned rat and you didn't want to overwhelm him with any more of your emotions. "I spent a lot of summers here with Grams. Millions of good memories here." Your voice trails off again. This was the only place you ever felt comfortable. Happy. Welcomed. Safe.

"Well if you need any help getting settled in or cleaning up, I'm right next door. Two other guys there, too, who I'm sure would be happy to help if you need us," Freddie offers.

Freddie seems to be genuine in his kindness, and you appreciate it. Most of the time when guys were nice to you for no reason it was because they only had intentions of getting you into bed. But there was just something about Freddie that didn't make you feel uncomfortable or like a piece of meat he wanted to gnaw into. "Thank you, Freddie. You're really kind to offer, but..."

"No, no," he stops you as he holds up a hand. "No 'buts.' If you need help, ask for it. We don't need you sitting on the steps in the rain crying again. It makes the neighborhood aesthetic ugly." Freddie chuckles and turns to head to the door. "And before you get offended I did not say that you're ugly," he yells back. You smile, relieved that you have at least one nice person in your orbit.  

He waves and walks out the door, leaving you there, feeling optimistic for the first time in months, feeling that finally everything was going to be okay.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"We have a new neighbor!" Freddie proclaimed as he walked inside the flat, seeing his two roommates sitting in the living room. "She just arrived."

"She??" one of the roommates asked excitedly.  

Freddie rolled his eyes and chuffs, "Yes, Roger. She. And she's sweet and adorable and I will not allow you to corrupt her." Noticing his friend sinking into the sofa looking somewhat defeated, Freddie explained further. "She flew in from America this morning. She's tired." He walked over and took a seat in the chair and continued. "Her name is Y/N. That was her grandmother's place next door."

"Oh, yeah?" Brian, the other roommate piped up. "I was wondering if anyone was ever going to live in there."

Roger started to laugh. "Yeah, we were hoping it would be you, Fred, to get you off our sofa."  The three of them get along fantastically, and the truth is that they wouldn't know how to handle it if one would have moved out. They are polar opposites, personality-wise, and even interest-wise, but what bonded them together was their love for music.

"Well now that you've found us an adorable neighbor, think you can find us a bass player, Fred?" Brian asked in a frustrated tone. "I saw Bogie today and he told me he was quitting the band to go with some other blokes."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You walk out of the bedroom with your hair pulled up, wearing an old, ragged t-shirt, blue jeans and a worn-out pair of sneakers. You know that if you take a nap like you desperately want to you would lose all motivation to at least get started with the cleanup. You stand in the living room and try to decide which area you would tackle first. You start to remove the sheets and drop cloths that cover the furniture, making sure not to disturb the dust that had been collecting over the years. After everything is uncovered, you sit on the sofa and smile to yourself. “Home. I'm finally home.”

This room feels cluttered. You look over to the old apothecary cabinet that is against a window on the back wall and think if you move it somewhere else it would feel more open. You try, but it’s heavier than it looks. After struggling to get it to the back of the room, you realize it won’t fit against the wall under the huge mirror that is hanging there. Frustrated, more at yourself for not planning it out better, you start to yell. "Dammit!" Your voice echoes throughout the room and over to the other side of the wall. After yelling out every possible word you could think of that fit the moment, you turn on your heels, face the rest of the room, and realize how loud it is in there without the rugs down. "Where are the rugs?" you yell. "This room needs fucking rugs!" You start walking around the room as if your heavy pacing will make rugs miraculously appear when you hear a knock on the door.

Still in your fit of anger, you fling open the door, exasperated. "I told you to come get me if you needed help, dear." Freddie says, standing there, somewhat taken aback by the look of utter frustration on your face. "What's going on over here?"

"I can't put the fucking cabinet against the wall and I can't find the fucking rugs and..."

He grabs your shoulders and starts shaking you, trying to calm you down. "Why are you doing this today? You should be resting," Freddie says in an almost paternalistic tone. "Show me what you're trying to do." He nudges you inside, following you to the middle of the room. "Well, love, that won't fit..."

You snap. "I know it won't fit. I know that now." You gaze angrily at the mirror on the wall. "And I can't move the mirror because I'm too short." You sigh, realizing that Freddie is the last person you should be taking your anger out on. "I'm sorry for being bitchy. I'm just so tired."

He smiles at you reassuringly and puts his hands on your shoulders and stares into your eyes trying to calm you down. "I know you're tired. Wait here and I'll get some help, alright?" You nod, and Freddie walks out the door, leaving it open so he doesn’t have to bother you again.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"Alright, you two, I need someone tall and strong to come help our damsel in distress," Freddie called out as he walked back into his flat.

Roger quickly stood up, ready to spring into action, before Brian pushed him back down. "He said 'tall,' Rog ," Brian joke s . At over six feet tall, Brian didn't exactly tower over Roger and Freddie, but he never wasted a chance to let them know that he was taller than them.

"He also said 'strong,' Bri," Roger sarcastically replie d.

"Cut it out," Freddie interrupted. "I need at least one of you to come help." Both walked eagerly to the door, anxious to meet their new neighbor. "And Roger? I'm warning you now. Do not..."

Roger rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. 'Do not corrupt her.' I know." He smirked mischievously and walked out the door. Freddie turned to Brian.

"I'm not going to corrupt her either, Fred,” Brian joked.

"You couldn't corrupt a virgin, Brian. I'm not worried about you." Brian raised an eyebrow and followed Freddie out the door.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You’re standing off to the side of the living room with your back facing the door as the three of them walk in. You’re so deep in thought you didn't even hear their footsteps, trying to picture what the room would look like if you move some of the other furniture around. Your thoughts are interrupted by Freddie's voice. "I'm back and I've brought in the reinforcements."

Startled, you turn around, only to be startled once more, hoping desperately that you aren’t showing it, and politely smile at the two new visitors.

"Hi, I'm Roger," the blonde-haired one says as he moved in closer, hand extended. His eyes catch you completely off guard. They’re so blue – the bluest eyes you had ever seen.

"Oceans," you say out loud, feeling yourself turning red with embarrassment once you realize that didn't stay in your head. "I'm sorry," you try to recover, squinting your eyes and shaking your head. "Your eyes. They remind me of the Caribbean ocean, that's all. I've never seen eyes that color." You smile and shake his hand. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

Freddie quickly grabs your shoulders and directs your attention elsewhere. "This is my other roommate," glaring at Roger as if to tell him to stop thinking whatever he was thinking.

"Brian," the tall, curly haired one says with a smile. "I'm Brian. Nice to meet you, Y/N." He hold out his hand, which you happily shake and smile back. You don’t have to say anything. He knows the pleasantness he’s feeling while he’s touching your hand is reciprocated. Your shared gaze, handshake and smile lingers, not going unnoticed by the other two people in the room.

Freddie clears his throat, interrupting the shared trance between you and Brian. "So... shall we do this?" He walks over to the cabinet. "Brian, you're tall. Grab that mirror. Roger, help me push this thing over there." You stand back, watching the three of them get the cabinet saga resolved almost instantly. When they’re finished, they step back, admiring their work as if they had just finished building the Eiffel Tower. You can’t help but giggle. They all turn to face you when they hear.

"I'm sorry. It's just that you guys are so proud and..." You stop. You don’t want them to think you were making fun of them or that you’re unappreciative of the help. "It's just..." you stumble over your words and sigh. "Thank you. Really. I'd offer dinner or drinks, but I have nothing to give."

They all smile, no offense taken. Roger is the first to pipe up, completely amused and mystified by your voice. "I don't need a drink or food. Just keep talking to me. Your accent is..."

"Adorable." Everyone turns their eyes to Brian. He stands there, hand rubbing on the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed that he blurted that out. "Well, it is," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "Never heard an accent like yours. It's... adorable." You blush.

"It's sexy as hell," piped up Freddie. You scowl at him. "What? It is! You will melt a million hearts with that voice of yours. It's exotic around here." Roger and Brian nod in agreement while you blush even more. Freddie pinches your cheek and gives a wink as he tells you, "Get used to the attention, babe. You're gorgeous." He walks toward the door and beckons everyone to follow him. "Come, now. Let’s go home. You come too, Y/N. We have food and beer." The three of you follow, doing as you were told.

The guys have so many questions for you, naturally, as you do for them, and you feel surprisingly comfortable sharing a bit your story with them as all of you sip your bottles of beer and eat the sandwiches the guys were kind enough to supply. You learn how they met each other, and of their band. You find out about Roger's schooling for dentistry and Brian's work in astronomy. It was confirmed, just as you had guessed, that Freddie was the artistic one in the group. You give them very minimal details about your life, not wanting to scare them off. You do tell them about when you were 16 and left home to join the hippies out in San Francisco, which they find amusing. They wonder how you got here, so you explain that this place was your grandmother’s, and now it’s yours since both of your parents had passed away.

"So you're a spoiled little rich girl who decided to move to London and spend daddy’s money," Roger blurts out after taking a drag of his cigarette,  not angrily or being mean. He’s joking, but you don’t find it funny, at all. Freddie slaps the back of Roger's head. "What? I'm just joking! Y/N, come on, I'm sorry. I was just joking." You aren’t hearing any of it. You’re tired anyway and don’t have the energy to put up a fight.

You stand up, grab your empty bottle and walk to the door. "I'm calling it a day, guys. Thanks for the help, food and beer." Brian glares at Roger as he stands up to follow you. Freddie starts whispering something to Roger that you can’t make out, but you don’t care.

"Hey. Y/N. Wait..." Brian calls out. You stop at the door, turn around and meet Brian's hazel eyes yours. "He can be a jerk, don't get me wrong, but really, he was joking. Don't let him get to you, okay?"

"I'm fine. Really. I'm just tired, probably cranky and being over sensitive. I've had to deal with so many emotions today I don't think there are any left for me to feel. Happy, sad, scared, excited, angry, puce..."

Brian chuckles. "Puce? Is that what you said?"

"Yeah. Puce." You try your best to explain the emotion you’ve always called  puce . "I don't know what else to call it. It's that feeling of excitement, but you're still sad, and scared, not thrilled but terrified, you know? You don't know whether you want to laugh or cry or punch someone. It's a terrible feeling. I didn't know a word for it, so I thought of the most terrible color I could think of and, well, I can't think of a color worse than puce."

Brian looks down at you with an amused grin. He is intrigued, to say the least, and he’s finding himself completely spellbound, needing to know more about you. The physical attraction was apparent. He was studying your every feature while you were all talking, from the natural highlights in your hair down to the way your feet turn slightly inward when you sat down. The way you talk fast and get overly detailed when you’re trying to explain something. He found the little quirks he picked up on to be charming: the way you talk with your hands; the way you nibble on your fingernails when you’re listening intently; the way you fidget with your rings. He couldn't help but wonder how many other quirks you had.

"Well, Y/N, I hope tomorrow you feel like a prettier color." You softly smile and walked out, closing the door behind you.

He turned around to rejoin the guys, only to see Freddie and Roger smirking at him, as if they could read the thoughts that were swirling in his mind. "Come on, Bri. You'll see her tomorrow," Freddie assured him. "Let's so see whose playing at the club. Maybe we'll find new bass player."

#queen fic #brian may fic #roger taylor fic #queen fandom #queen fanfiction #roger taylor fanfic #brian may fanfic

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt #8 : The Agreement

 Overlooking the pushing tides eye closed and hands clenched before a fallen wry smile befell a Captain of Gold, a seagull cawing and swooping up a smaller fish upon it’s beak, not far from the spot a cliff hungover nearside the Silver Bazaar where the flight of the free savored their delights peace of calmness was felt in the surrounding environment, “Ye gonna stay lurking in those shadows? It’s kinda of hard not to hear the excitement bubbling from the overgrown butterfly.” He lightly rotated and tilted and appearing before him was another Miqo’te with a blindfold but not simple one, this one held more history. For you see this was his biological Father. The man who gave himself to a Doma resistance group and led assassination operations instead of stuck close to true treasure...

A encapsulating figure of marvel and luminous speaking up in a squeaky high-pitched voice floating closely to the mysterious man, <What did you call me? Butterfly!!! I’ll show you.” The Eos getting pulled by two finger digits and held back by a dress. Softer and more gruff with experience and harden pitch, “Son.” He rung. Still coveting that mask of his eyelids. His perception of senses heightened and his trusty companion leading him.

The ruffian pirate retorted, “What brings you out of the shade and into my orbiting Sun? Huh old man? Came to assassinate me or for the better term attempt too? The bounty better be worth a nifty sum of gil to have you step to me reminds me, how’s the arm pops?” His golden amber hue looking towards a damned well limb that was ripped asunder in a battle that took place a few Moons passing now right before the crucible of a War of the Depths. Hoku’s metallic magitek augmentation lifting up lightly no sound slinking from it almost perfectly only to those with the most sensitive hearing. “Seems you’ve but still remained ever the delinquent and unwavering. Should know damn well why I returned to see how you’ve been training and coming along ensuring you haven’t slacked off just because one battle was over... How about we cut it out? He said wisely and seriously atone.” The toothed-fang smirk and arrogance returning back, “Aye? Ye wanna know how I’ve been doing. Absolutely dandy. I’ve got dead crewmates here and there some captured and held, I’m wanted. I’ve never felt more alive! I’m atop of the world. Hell I get a golden ovation every time I step in a room. They always remind me in applause of my upstanding Father and being raised!” Talking with sarcasm towards the ending response.

“Yes well, I didn’t expect you to be fine. You’re already lying to yourself still it seems, you’re miserable. Worse than that aren’t you? A parent knows...” Being cut off by the loudmouth scoundrel, “What the hell exactly do you know what I been through? Were you there! No, I had to do heinous things on the norm to survive. You least can abandon your emotions all behind and ditch what matters to you, NOT ME. When I see a Treasure, They are the object of my World. My closest parent was only one man, he’s in these depths. Leviathan, I can show you t’ spot!” “It’s not wrong, when you become a contract killer you abandon nearly all of you have to forget and be within coldness so it doesn’t dampen your inabilities to see too a well earned victory stricken when another head’s off the list. You’re right I might one day, I’ll be deployed to have to kill you. But it’ll be in pride and at this point... However, It’s not the worst option now either. I was controlled before but I fought you, I saw you. Truly within my Sight. You all but know how special our gift is... In a moment, I saw what you did, became, it was an omen.” The furrowing eyebrow tattooed and battered scarred pirate stood closer in, “What is that?“ An answer simple and held grave. “You sold yourself... To death. Your death or better of the like term for it the Ferryman. Only visited when sought with ambitions bigger. The individual offers to give up his Soul in due time as a bargaining chip but your Soul’s split before he could reap you and ever since then you been on borrowed time. Here is the thing though, no one outruns it. It’ll catch up. You already been experiencing the nightmares? You losing control? Slipping out of balance and touch with yourself waking up in sweats. I know you took the deal because your fighting style. While it’s true an assassin borrows the skills required to administer and serve as the reaper themselves. You instead borrowed it’s luck. Ever since then you been on borrowing. Everything you’ve done has led to this. You already want to cut your own heart out of your torso don’t you? The pain gets worse, that psyche is already acting distorted. You’ve already seen it fallen into shambles. Even THAT beast you chained, is frightened. You’ve brought damnation upon yourself and you.... smile.” He fatherly scolded and also act as a former Mentor of the pirate. That infamous smirk was placed on Kuro as he looked over at Hoku, “What’s the matter worried? You’re correct, I did give in to something bigger than me. Cause ye see that’s what I have to do. You weren’t left with nothing, screw the compass where did it lead me? Getting my ass-kicked and no friends at that shitty orphanage? How about every single thing I’ve stolen to survive in the Lanes? News flash there isn’t much to eat there. You have no where to go, or turn too, be alone with nothing! Even your caretakers don’t give a single shite. I appreciate your sentiment but it’s none of your business mate you’ve but sunken your opportune time for a lecture. Hell maybe it’s not a bad thing to give into what else lies dormant in me, let him have control wreck havoc and then let him get reaped shortly after. Surely, that’ll be any better!” “You’re the exact same as your Mother was stubborn and risky at a fault trying to prove something bigger. You’ll always run into curses but taking that of Death’s is the worst one. You wonder why your crew is dead? Why chaos follows you, because you bring it’s company with you on your adventures, It doesn’t matter at all that you can lead them. It’s the fact by them being around you their luck considerably has diminished. That specter knows no bounds and it’s swiping for your head to cleave it off! Yeah, you dodge it. But look who is with your in the cross-hairs being replaced.Seems you found yourself someone special, I’m happy. Though even she and partially in death’s favor can be disposed of and it’ll come by, you. So you’ve got two options, son. You let me end you right now, which is probably for the better as mercy for the pain you’ll be inflicted. You’d rather prefer any other cruelty. Or you can listen to me and take option two.” Boldly stepping closer and hearing his eye gave thought and looked over at the seas the clouds darkening. He felt ringing truth, “How did you obtain knowledge even of this?” The pirate’s father and guide in life, “My own Mentor you see is a rather unique individual an Immortal but not the type you’re accustomed too. This immortality is but a curse that leaves a man sick, he cannot be killed by any means but he has a fate worse than that. He suffers from Death’s Choke. Where his body becomes encased in the worst pain of any lifetime all at once constantly and causing him to have servants and others to draw upon aether and bring it to them to cope. There’s no telling when he’s allowed to move or do anything but sit on a weakly bed and be tarnished. People have associated him with many titles but lately he’s taken up in the creation of a Sky Pirate crew that you know runs the biggest black market and trade organization a fleet so big that there is Six Tiers too.” Scoffing and sighing lowly, “Seriously we’re going on that again? Flaming Pegasus or aka the ‘Arbiters Line’ It’s a rumor at this point the only people who’ve real contact has been Beast Tribe and a few odd strays. I’ve bought things from them and they helped us with the Sea Lurkers with their devices. But they’re but rumors. They’re a criminal organization in upper-world instead of underworld. Not many people can even reach them or touch them. You want me to go on a goose-chase, buy a sky ship find some sick old timer and just HOPE he can somehow find a solution to fix me? Am I really grasping at straws here with this, I’m cursed situation? This seems like a whole lot of dramatic theater for me, mate.” Lighter steps close in from the older Seeker to the more younger one equally battered and seasoned. “If you want treasures, freedom, to live. This is your only option. You can go return to biding your time out watching for which person is your downfall. You don’t fear death’s but it’ll come and that pain will be so destructive... You thought you knew nothing...” He’d frown, “Go, train. Find Arbiter’s Line. This isn’t something I can push you on. If you don’t do this... I’ll have to let her know. Do not be selfish on this one thing or allow your greed to consume you or be hesitant upon action.” Flicker the fairy strolled up and slapped Kuro with a stinging slap before heading back. “That’s for picking on me more lately!” She’d hide underneath a folded pocket on Hoku’s garb as they begun walking off to once again fade within the shadows. “Hey, old man.” The Cap’n of the Goldbrand spoke, Hoku stopped in tracks not turning but in listens. “Thanks, father... I’ll give it some thought.... I always did relish me some adventure! There’s got to be someone out there who can teach me something new!” He’d return his starry gaze to the seas before turning back and noticing they were gone and causing him splitting a gnarling-fanged curl of his lips.

#FFxivWrite2018 #hoku #kuro #father #son #developement #time to cut the bs #death #curses #pirates #assassins #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv rp #ffxiv miqo'te

[thepartyresponsible]

this fill is for @roguetelepath​​, who had the beautiful idea of Jason Todd/Harry Potter with “a post-war, done with everything Harry in Gotham.”

my general disregard for canon compliance is stepped up a bit here, because i’ve only read the first seven books and seen their movies. i know nothing about fantastic beasts.

...well, i know that i am a fantastic beast, but that’s probably not what the movie is about.

Talia would call it a Lazarus gift, the way Jason can sense magic these days. She’d call it that - a gift - because she’s never experienced it herself. When the dark-haired man passes behind him, Jason feels the magic on him, sharp and unpleasant, like fingernails and ice chips scraping across the back of his neck. It doesn’t feel much like a gift, but he’ll grant that it’s interesting.

The place is a dive bar, sure, but people usually don’t layer on high-level repulsion charms before they go out for a drink. Especially when they’re nowhere near the magic-friendly districts of the city.

Jason counts thirty seconds and then he stands up, takes his beer, and follows the man across the bar. The magic pushes against him, but charms that rely on redirection tend to lose most of their punch when you confront them head on. He feels it, though, the whole way over, chilled air settling across every inch of exposed skin.

“Hey,” he says, as he leans into the space next to him at the bar. Jason smiles, trying for friendly, self-aware enough to know that he’s probably missing the mark.

“Hello,” the man says, glancing at him. He has a British accent and some kind of spell on his face, concentrated in the center of his forehead. Jason can’t see behind it, but cosmetic magic always looks wrong in his eyes, vaguely blue-tinted and reflective.

Jason never did finish high school, but the dealers on his street taught him all about basic arithmetic.

An English accent, a concealed mark on his forehead, and magic, a lot of it, equals Harry fucking Potter, hiding out in a shitty Gotham bar.

Jason thinks about asking him if his press knows he’s here, but Potter’s watching him now, mouth bullied into a flat, miserable frown, pretty green eyes gone all dark and defensive. Jason spends most of his nights patrolling the city with a mask on his face; he knows what it’s like to try to cut your way out of an identity you don’t want anymore.

It’s a little like clawing your way out of a coffin.

“Buy you a drink?” Jason asks, instead.

Potter blinks at him. His eyes dart toward the bartender, who’s hanging back, reading Jason. “There some reason you would like to?” he asks, after a moment.

“Sure,” Jason says, with a shrug. There are a dozen reasons he would like to. He read the news, when it hit, a couple years back. He knows all about the clusterfuck that happened to the British Ministry. He knows about the horcruxes, and the bullshit Dark Lord. He knows about the dead kids. “I’ve got a thing,” he says, “for brunettes.”

“Really,” Potter repeats, like he doesn’t believe it. Like he’s exhausted by the very idea of pretending, again, to believe whatever lie someone’s selling him.

“Sure,” Jason says. It even has the benefit of being true. He looks over at the bartender, who finally starts making his approach, apparently reassured that he doesn’t need to stay out of the shrapnel zone anymore.

“Look,” Jason says, when Potter just keeps staring down at the empty bar napkin in front of him. “You’re here to drink. You really think it’s a good idea to do that alone?”

Potter’s eyes snap up to his, and there’s a moment where Jason can feel himself being assessed. He doesn’t mind. He’s been calculating how dangerous Potter is since he walked into the bar.

“Fine,” Potter says. “But I’m terrible company.”

“Oh, good,” Jason says, settling onto the nearest bar stool. “Me too.”

  Later, after they’ve shared a few beers and some meandering conversation, after Harry quietly eased the repulsion charm until it disappeared entirely, they go outside to smoke behind the bar. Harry – who introduced himself as Neville Longbottom – goes through the whole process of fishing out his lighter and hunching inward, shielding his cigarette from the wind.

Jason snaps his fingers, summons a bright blue magical flame that dances briefly above his thumb, and lights his cigarette neatly, efficiently, waving the flame out of existence while Harry’s still holding his stupid lighter in the air.

“Thought so,” Harry says, after a beat of silence. “How’d you know about me?”

Jason rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers again, holds the flame under Harry’s cigarette until it finally lights. He closes his hand around the fire, and it disappears. “Yeah,” he says, “you’re really not that subtle.”

Harry sizes him up again. He’s been doing that all night. Jason wants to tell him that, someday, he’ll shake himself free from the habit of continuously updating the threat level of everyone around him, but Jason’s an asshole, not a liar. Shit like that never, ever goes away.

“This whole city,” Harry says, settling back against the wall, “is cursed. How do you stand it?”

Jason shrugs. “Grew up here,” he says. “Get sick if I leave for too long.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, thinks that over. “Do you really?”

Jason nods, although it’s not a sickness the way that word maybe implies. It’s more like an addiction. Leaving the city for too long leads to anxious, skittery, bone-deep aches that feel like withdrawals. There’s a reason people don’t leave Gotham, no matter how shitty the place is, no matter what they lose to it.

“Over there,” Jason says, “you British wizards, you’d probably call it Dark magic.”

“Call it Dark magic?” Harry shoots him a faintly incredulous look, lighting up his green eyes with skepticism. “It is Dark. This whole city’s Dark.”

“It’s all just magic,” Jason says. The difference is that this kind’s got a higher price and a sharper bite. And maybe Jason would care more about the former if he weren’t so dedicated to the latter.

Sometimes, he can feel the echoes of the spellwork he’s done settling into his joints, aging him early, rotting him from the inside out. But there are hundreds of people alive today that wouldn’t be, if he hadn’t done what he’d done. So what’s it matter, in the end? He’s living on borrowed time anyway.

Harry frowns at him. Jason figures that’s fair. Harry’s probably still a little sensitive to that whole bullshit light-and-dark divide. Bruce can get that way, too, if you let him corner you into a philosophical debate about it. But the reality is Bruce uses whatever magic he can, and dark and light are just words frightened people use to keep each other in line.  

“It feels bad,” Harry says, finally, and gestures outward, toward the sprawling nightmare of the city.

And, yeah, Jason imagines it does. The city always seems to weigh heavy on new arrivals. “If it feels so bad,” Jason says, “why the hell are you here?”

He already knows. Of course he knows. He knows why every single one of them surfaces here, all the runaways, the fugitives, the deserters. He knows what Gotham can offer people, if they’re desperate enough to bargain.

“Can’t be traced here,” Harry says, finally, after he busies himself for a while with the nearly finished cigarette in his hand. “I’m on vacation.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, with a smile, as he flicks his cigarette into a nearly puddle. “Sure. The kind of vacation where you’re actively hiding from everyone who knows you. That kind of vacation.”

Harry’s eyes narrow. “I’m not hiding,” he says. He sounds like he means it. Maybe he hasn’t figured that part out for himself yet.

Jason grins at him, leans closer, settles his hand on the brick wall beside Harry’s head. “So, Neville Longbottom,” he says, enjoying the quickfire focus that ignites in Harry’s eyes at the mocking tone Jason uses when he calls him by a name they both know doesn’t belong to him. “You got a place to stay yet?”

Harry’s still for a second, and then he drops his cigarette to the ground, crushes it beneath his boot. He runs his fingers through his hair, and, in the wavering light of the nearby neon sign, Jason catches the glint of a line of scars down Harry’s hand: I must not tell lies.

England, he thinks, is just as hard on its boy heroes as Gotham. Maybe the whole world over, Robins and Harry Potters get eaten alive.

“I’m entertaining options,” Harry tells him. For a second, his eyes drop down Jason’s face, to his mouth, his throat, down all the way to his hips and then slowly back up. And then he looks away, squints up the alleyway. “But,” he says, “I’m a nightmare to share a room with.”

“Oh, really?” Jason thinks it’s sweet that Harry said share a room instead of share a bed. Especially since he just got finished eye-fucking him in the back alley behind one of Gotham’s least impressive bars.

“Yeah,” Harry says, eyes dropping, dark with guilt and maybe shame. “I’ve got-- dreams. Bad ones. Broke somebody’s nose once.”

For fuck’s sake. This is what happens, Jason thinks. This is what happens when you’re fourteen and someone you trust tells you that you can save the world.

Jason’s not sure of the details of what happened to Harry. They were, as usual, on the brink of the end of the world in Gotham, too. But he knows the look on Harry’s face, knows the weight of that directionless rage, the drag of all that that hollowed-out exhaustion. He knows what it’s like to play hero too young.

“This is Gotham,” Jason reminds him. “You don’t have to apologize for shit like that here. If we couldn’t handle a few nightmares, we’d all be sleeping alone.”

Harry’s eyebrows pull together. He sizes him up again, and Jason waits, lets that threat analysis buffer until Harry nods, once, slow and thoughtful. Cautious. “Well,” Harry says, “not sure I’ll be staying the night.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Break my heart, English.”

Harry grins, then, bright and uncomplicated, sharing the joke. Jason sees, for a second, who he could have been, if he hadn’t been sent out to fight, if he hadn’t been asked to save the world before he had a chance to find his place in it.

It’s no use, second-guessing the sacrifice once it’s already been made. But Jason wishes like hell that all these old men would learn to fight and lose their own Goddamn battles.

Jason wonders if that’s the reason the two of them do what they do. He wonders if Harry’s an Auror and Jason’s a vigilante so they can put themselves in front of all those desperate, stupid kids, build a wall with their bodies that keeps all the starry-eyed, Bambi-faced preteens from looking at the you must be this tall to avert the apocalypse sign and figuring fuck it, close enough.

Or maybe this is what they do because it’s all they know how to do. Maybe, once you put a price on your life, hand it over in trade, you can’t ever get back to a place where you have any value at all.

“C’mon,” Jason says. He tips his head up the alleyway. “Let me show you the parts of Gotham that are slightly less shitty.”

Harry smiles, and it doesn’t have the wattage of that grin, but the grittiness of it – the worn-down edges, the glint of danger in his eyes – has a hook all its own. Jason always did have a soft spot for lost causes.

“You know,” Harry says, as they start up the alleyway. “My name isn’t actually Neville Longbottom.”

“Well, holy shit, English,” Jason says, feigning shock, clutching his non-existent pearls. “Does this mean you’re Hermione Granger?”

Harry laughs, sharp and surprised, and there are shadows in his eyes, scars on his skin, but there’s still life in him, still something bright and sweet and worth preserving.

As they walk up the alley, Jason feels the magic fade, like the softest brush of breath against his throat. When he looks over, Harry’s scar is clear on his face. It feels like a declaration, like some kind of trust.

“Oh, hey, Harry Potter,” Jason says, with a small, sideways smile, “welcome to Gotham.”

#writing #fic #fill

[tozierpunks]

uhhhh 22 with stenbrough?

22. Two Miserable People Meeting At a Wedding AU

A/N: Meet: verb 1.come into the presence or company of (someone) by chance or arrangement. (ah……….. so…. not meeting for the first time?). Also follow me here, but we’re gonna switch perspectives so normal text is Billiam and italics is Staniel. K, thanks. Love u. Appreciate u.

There were flowers everywhere; apparently freesias were Patty’s favorite. Taking a breath was like stepping into a cloud of Febreeze.

Looking around at the church, he couldn’t help but chuckle. He thought Audra would want an outdoor wedding; either she changed her mind or lost out to the love of her life. What a way to start a marriage.

Bill fixed his tie, clearing his throat as he checked himself out in the bathroom mirror. He wanted to splash his face with water, but knowing himself, he’d mess up his suit. Did it really matter? He wasn’t exactly the main event. His stomach lurched, but he ignored his body. If it failed him, it failed him. Frankly, he didn’t care. He already wanted to die.

Stan clenched his fists. He shouldn’t have come and he knew it. Of course he would see Bill! … And of course Bill would see him. His breath caught when their eyes locked, and for a split second he thought maybe - just maybe - Bill would remember.

But then Bill gave him a curt nod and walked on.

He forgot first. Not Stan.

When Bill saw Stan, a fire was lit inside of him. He desperately wanted to ask if they could leave together, but then saw Patty in her dress. It was beautiful, really. A sharp pain seared through his chest, because he remembered down to the last detail what Stan wanted to wear.

That dress. White and flowing. Shoulderless. A v-cut down the back. Stan had a great back. Bill missed it so much. He missed Stan.

All these years later, he became the cliched bitter novelist. It dated back to college, when he lost the only person who made him happy. Eddie moved first, eventually forgetting him. Then Richie. They were alive, but it was like losing his little brother all over again. If cancer of the body got Georgie, then cancer of the memory got all of his friends.

That’s dementia, Bill, he thought dryly.

He and Stan were the last two in Derry, and their plan was to move far away. Maybe California. Maybe Seattle. But then he was accepted into NYU, and Stan received an offer from CalTech.

He swore. He fucking SWORE. They made a promise to each other and Bill couldn’t keep it. What made Stan think he could handle binding marriage vows? His jaw tightened. Sitting in the back row didn’t make this any easier. His feet were lead; he couldn’t escape the suffocation of such happiness from everyone else. The energy wrapped around his throat like the fucking hand of Thanos and choked him.

And yet, all he could think about were the nights they read their X-Men and Avengers comics, listening to Bill’s shitty pop punk bands and arguing which Marvel universe was more interesting. Those arguments were at least helpful for falling in love. They were fun.

The college arguments weren’t.

He wouldn’t sacrifice his education for anything, and as much as Bill pushed, it was clear he wouldn’t either.

So they promised to keep in touch.

A year of phone calls, letters, mixed CDs or mixed tapes, flowers, presents… None of it mattered in the end.

There were a lot of things Bill regretted. He didn’t think transferring to a writing school in England would be one of them. To celebrate the occasion, he flew out to see Stan, expecting they’d spend the weekend making love and drinking champagne.

Stan recalled how hard he sobbed when Bill told him he’d be going to London. Being across the the country was hard enough, but across the world? He couldn’t handle it. Maybe it was unfair, but Stan told Bill to choose. Him or London. In retrospect, he might’ve made the same choice, but it didn’t hurt any fucking less.

Even if Bill chose wrong, they promised forever. He didn’t forget. Stan did.

Was being here, so close to him, a form of self-torture? He wasn’t the man to cry at weddings, but here he was, ready to break. Sitting in the third row, behind the important family- Hell, that was enough to choke him up. He wasn’t significant here. He wasn’t significant at all without Stan.

The music started and Stan saw Bill look over his shoulder, but he wasn’t looking at Audra in the gown Stan should’ve been wearing. Their eyes met.

Bill wanted to scream.Stan wanted to scream.Audra passed him.Patty took her place beside Stan.

If he could protest the wedding, he would’ve, but what right did he have? Bill invited him as a mere formality. We used to be lovers, here’s your consolation prize.

Stan invited him out of pettiness. This outdoor wedding, Patty in her gorgeous gown, Stan’s smiling and accepting relatives… It was all to choke Bill up and remind him that he did this first. The ring on Bill’s finger burned.

“Do you, Bill Denbrough, take Audra Phillips as your lawfully wedded wife-”Stan could’ve said “I object” early. He could’ve gone up to Bill before this shit show started. He didn’t want to marry her and Stan knew it. Why was he doing this to them?

“With this ring, you are made holy to me, for I love you as my soul. You are now my wife,” Stan said, loud and clear. Bill wanted to vomit.

Slamming down shots at the reception didn’t make this any easier to grasp. For the life of him, he didn’t know why he stayed. Maybe he hoped Bill would pull everything out at the last second and take him away to California.

Bill sat alone at the reception; Audra left to chat with the bridesmaids. He got up to get a drink, paralyzed when he bumped right into Stan.

Oh God, he’s coming over, Oh God, Stan panicked in his thoughts, keeping a straight face when Bill motioned to the bartender for a drink.

“Hey! I’m glad you could make it!” Stan said, the hollow words ripping through Bill like bullets.

“I’m glad you came, Stan. It means a lot to me,” Bill said softly. Everything he said was soft, but only because of his stutter. Did it still plague him? What hurt the most was how Stan didn’t know anymore. Bill was a stranger. He was at a strangers’ wedding.

“Listen, try the lamb, it’s delicious. Pat’s mom made it!” Stan’s enthusiasm over his new wife was the final blow. Bill managed a tightened smile and nodded. Someone called Stan away, and he gave Bill’s shoulder a squeeze. When he pulled his hand away, Bill felt their last ties pulling tight and severing.

“You look happy,” Bill commented, and that truly was the final nail in Stan’s coffin. It was dismissive. It was a “you look happy, so you don’t need me, and I’m free.” All he could do was smile and nod, letting Bill walk away.

He wanted to badly to say “I love you.”More than anything he wanted to say, “Come back, Bill.”

#stenbrough #baby's first! #I imagine this wasn't the hot take the prompt meant but I got inspired #I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE #I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT #I AT LEAST STUCK WITH THE WORD ''MISERABLE'' #Anonymous #truly tho I tried my best #I don't usually write anything that doesn't have Richie or Eddie as at least one half of the pair #but I wanna be versatile so I'm trying!!!! I've got like three more shots to get Stenbrough down tho so bear with me

[blueinkedfrost]

Heathers - Bud Dean

Bud Dean has about three canonical personality traits - explosives obsession, exercise/fitness obsession, not a very good parent. Four personality traits if you count his and J.D.'s sarcastic roleplaying exchanges as a trait. Everything else is absolutely conjecture.

Bud's other important trait is that, for a character who has 2.5 brief scenes in the movie, he's a real spotlight stealer. He's extremely interesting! This is why he tempts people to conjecture about him.

In terms of defending Bud, he's not the worst character in the movie! He only killed one person and a memorial oak tree, and in both cases was legally acquitted of responsibility. He's not a very good parent, but none of the other adult characters are particularly good either.

And, very importantly, what is 'Bud' a nickname for? I think his full name should be Burton, as it makes a nice little reference to Ira Levin's A Kiss Before Dying, which you should definitely read without spoilers.

Here are my Bud conjectures, in the order that we get information in the movie.

The first thing we learn about J.D.'s home environment is that he moves around a lot but there's a Snappy Snack Shack in every town.

J.D. I've been moved around all my life. Dallas, Baton Rouge, Vegas ... Sherwood, Ohio. There's always been a Snappy Snack Shack ... Keeps me sane.

This early in the movie, 'Keeps me sane' just sounds like hyperbolic banter. Later we realise that J.D. has some very serious issues, and Snappy Snack Shacks as his one source of stability in an unstable life were not an adequate means of support. When Veronica comments on J.D.'s motorbike, he explains a bit more of his background:

J.D. Yeah, just a humble perk from my dad's construction company. You've seen the commercial, right? "Bringing every state to a higher state".

Then it's Veronica who says the company name and Bud's name, 'Big Bud Dean Construction'. So the background here is:

Bud's business causes him and his son to move around a lot - we'll figure out that the constant moving and having no friends has a negative effect on his son's mental state. Maybe Bud would've been a better parent if he'd sent J.D. to boarding school. It seems like Bud prioritises his work over his kid, although in his defence he needs to earn a living. 

The company's clearly doing well enough to have popular T.V. ads. Bud's very competent at what he does. 

Naming your company after yourself makes you a self-made man with a high opinion of your creator. (It's not even just 'Bud Dean Construction', it's a boastful 'Big Bud'.) In contrast, Veronica's family, established in Sherwood, might have inherited money, as her parents seem to lead pretty leisurely lives.

We meet Bud in person when he walks in on J.D. and Veronica watching television (Veronica quickly removes her hand from around J.D.'s shoulders). Comparing Bud's physical appearance to Veronica's father, he has a lot more grey in his hair; it's possible Bud's meant to be older, although different people go grey at different rates and he is very physically fit.

Bud and his son communicate by putting words in each other's mouth. This roleswapping exchange is offputting, and an indication of the chaos that surrounds J.D.

J.D. Hey, son, I didn't hear you come in. BUD. Hey, Dad, how was work today? It was miserable. Some damn tribe of withered old bitches doesn't want us to terminate that fleabag hotel.

This exchange makes me conjecture that Bud's on the more misogynistic end of the Heathers spectrum, although this movie sets the bar pretty low (J.D. has the dubious distinction of 'only male character to show a vague awareness that date rape is wrong'). Veronica says 'bitch' too and she'd probably identify as a feminist, but Bud uses particularly vivid, imaginative language to denounce these women - tribe of withered old bitches, then later the judge told them to slurp shit and die. (Which the judge probably did not literally do.) This combined with the backstory on Bud's wife and Bud's dismissive attitude toward Veronica makes me think Bud doesn't think much of women.

Bud and J.D. then talk over an anecdote in "fucking Kansas", where Bud was arraigned but acquitted for illegally blowing up the Memorial Oak Tree with thirty fireworks attached to the trunk. Bud is willing to break the law and clever enough to get away with it, and doesn't care much for trees, environmentalism, or history. J.D. repeats the story as if Bud's told it many times before.

Then there's a nonverbal exchange that's quite interesting. Veronica offers to shake Bud's hand and he refuses, walking on a treadmill and giving her a perfunctory wave instead. He's clearly very interested in exercising and not very polite to her. Veronica leaves in a hurry soon after.

J.D. Veronica, this is my dad. Dad - Veronica.

VERONICA. Hi. (Bud refuses her handshake.)

J.D. Son, why don't you ask your little friend to stay for dinner?

VERONICA. I can't, uh, my mom's making my favourite meal tonight. Spaghetti, lots of oregano.

After the role reversal conversation and the handshake refusal, Veronica seems to find Bud offputting and leaves quickly. Since Veronica later asks J.D. 'Do you like your father', she doesn't find Bud likeable. However, in Veronica's second encounter with Bud, she's sarcastic about him within his earshot ('the beaver's home'), so she probably doesn't find him particularly scary or threatening.

J.D.'s last line before Veronica leaves is this tantalising beginning of a reveal, that Veronica is completely disinterested in asking for more information about:

J.D. How nice. Last time I saw my mom, she was waving from a library window in Texas. Right, Dad? BUD. Right ... son.

There's an earlier script version that gives more information about Bud's attitude here:

J.D. The last time I saw my mom, she was waving out the window of a library in Texas. Right, Dad?

BIG BUD DEAN stops rowing to grin a You-Think-You're-Tougher-Than-Me-But-You're-Not smile to J.D.

BUD. Right, son.

Bud literally killed J.D.'s mother while he watched, but instead of thinking that some kind of emotional support might be appropriate, he sees mentions of her death as a tough-out contest. Bud probably wins that contest, and along with it a 'bad parenting' prize. The way J.D. brings up his mother's death makes it feel like an unhealed wound - J.D.'s poking at the scab, trying to get some sort of reaction out of his father that he doesn't get at all.

In Bud's second appearance, J.D. and Veronica are again in the living room. Veronica threw the photo of J.D.'s mother at him in frustration, not knowing what it was. Bud walks in with a videotape, gloating over how We beat the bitches ... the judge told them to slurp shit and die. He shows the video of his deconstruction job.

BUD. I put a Norwegian in the boiler room. Masterful! And then, when that blew, it set off a pack of thermals I stuck upstairs. Some days it's great to be alive.

Bud has a high opinion of his own talents (warranted - he clearly did a good job of demolishing the hotel) and loves destruction. The video seems to be much more for enjoyment than analysing his work; he watches it and laughs. Deconstruction is a job that clearly someone has to do, and lots of people like explosions in moderation - but, for Bud, he loves them. While watching the video, J.D. clearly also starts to feel excitement and consider how he could blow up Westerburg High School. Like father, like son.

When Bud leaves, Veronica asks J.D. a question.

VERONICA. Do you like your father?

At that point in the story, Veronica's disturbed about the three murders J.D. planned and she's also noticed Bud's love for destruction - it's plausible that she asked that question hoping for a definite 'no, I'm not as destructive as my father'. She doesn't get that definite no.

J.D. I've never given the matter much thought. I liked my mother. They said her death was an accident, but she knew what she was doing. She walked into the building two minutes before my dad blew the place up. She waved at me, and then ... boom.

(The camera zooms in on the picture of a light-haired woman casually dressed on a beach, in sunglasses. The sunglasses probably symbolise 'we didn't need to find a stock photo that looked like Christian Slater'.)

Since Bud literally pulled the trigger on Mrs. Dean, it's tempting to take the way she died as symbolic of It's-Just-Possible-That-I-Might-Have-Had-Some-Issues-With-My-Husband. The death was ruled an accident; she would have walked into the building of her own will; Bud probably didn't know she was there. If Bud was a decent or semi-decent spouse, then forcing him to literally kill her was a shitty thing to do. (Similarly, Martha's method of committing suicide would've been horrifying to the car driver, but in Martha's case, she didn't know that it would be one specific driver.)

While it's not spelt out, it's easy to picture Bud as an awful or abusive spouse. Ruling Mrs. Dean's death an accident was probably quite lenient from the coroner, considering that Bud was responsible for securing the demolition site and could have been considered negligent. In this real life example where a person was killed in a demolition (it's a very sad story), the contractor's responsibility was certainly considered. In some religions, there's a stigma against suicide, which means that ruling a death accidental is considered kinder to the family. Maybe the Deans are (nominally, anyway, as they don't seem remotely devout) Catholic.

(By calling her Mrs. Dean, I'm even making an assumption that they were married, which also isn't explicitly stated - but it's a pretty safe assumption.)

J.D.'s line on whether he likes his father is I've never given the matter much thought. I liked my mother. His mother was the better parent of the two, with J.D. feeling affection for her but indifference to his father. I think J.D.'s line reminiscing about his mother is a genuine emotional moment from him. Not long after this, J.D. shoots the radio playing 'Teenage Suicide' for no obvious reason. He's an impulsive character, but also a pretty calculating one, so it's hard to understand what motivated him there. Unresolved anger from reminiscing about his mother's death seems a convincing explanation.

Bud's final brief scene in the film actually shows him in a relatively positive light. While J.D. is building the bomb to blow up the school, Bud knocks on his son's door. He's not seen, only heard.

BUD. Hey, pop, I need some help with my homework!

J.D. Not right now, tiger, I'm a little busy.

Bud tries to reach out and engage his son; his son asks him to back off; and Bud respects J.D.'s boundaries and does so. (Of course, in this particular case, obviously things did not end well.)

And then J.D. goes off and tries to blow up the school with a trigger in the basement and packs of thermals in the gym. Veronica says the line Like father, like son. She literally means that the bombing style is the same. But it's really tempting to extend her line to mean more. J.D. displays a lack of empathy and concern for human life. Could those traits be inherited from his father? Bud doesn't show much empathy and concern for his son, and doesn't seem to have any friends or any interest in remarrying. Bud's exercise habits are solitary exercise, on his personal machines (not even at the gym with other people around!). Bud shows some grandiosity in his opinions about himself, such as calling his company 'Big Bud Dean Construction' and his interpretation on exactly what the judge told the protesters. It's tempting to read Bud as the 'sociopath who succeeds in business' stereotype - someone who channels his love for explosives into mostly legal channels, is willing to break the rules (see also the Memorial Oak Tree), and doesn't care for other people's feelings.

In a movie that uses a lot of colour symbolism, Bud's colour scheme greatly varies - a red and grey tracksuit in his first scene, (bright) blue and black in his second, unseen in his third. He prefers casual clothes or exercise clothes. Red is used to symbolise power (Chandler's scrunchie); grey seems pretty neutral; blue is Veronica's colour, symbolising intelligence; black is J.D.'s colour, symbolising destruction. Power, intelligence, and destruction pretty much fit Bud's character, although it's weird to see him in blue as he and Veronica hardly have anything in common. The photo of Mrs. Dean shows her in light colours, perhaps showing that she was more vulnerable and weak.

In terms of what I like about Bud, I really like his competence and his sarcasm. He's obviously good at what he does (blows up hotels, runs a successful company, keeps physically fit). He's clever enough to blow up a memorial oak tree without getting caught. His exchanges with his son show that he's rather verbally apt. Bud seems to be doing exactly what he wants to do in life with no inner angst whatsoever, which is a lot more than most Heathers characters can say.

Overall, how terrible a parent was Bud? It's pretty open. In the suicide note for Heather Chandler, J.D. contributes Suicide is the logical answer to the myriad of problems life has given me, which you can imply that he was also using to talk about himself. 'Myriad of problems' sounds like there might be more to J.D.'s issues than 'My mom died and I move around a lot', but that's a major conjecture. Bud clearly gives his son enough pocket money to support a motorbike, a smoking habit, and a convenience store habit, as well as way too much access to weaponry. Bud's not very emotionally supportive, and rather neglectful; his son stays the night away from home on at least two occasions (before killing Heather and before killing Kurt and Ram) without Bud apparently caring much.

Given J.D.'s issues, it's tempting to blame his father to a greater or lesser extent. However, J.D. is seventeen, not seven, and responsible for his own actions. J.D.'s penchant for killing other people's bullies seems like it might tie in to past bullying he experienced himself, where if he went after his own tormentors it would be too much like admitting weakness. It's believable enough to assume his father was one of the people who hurt him, whether by action or neglect. J.D. seems to mind when Heather Chandler targets Martha and when Kurt and Ram target the nerd at the funeral, in a twisted way of showing empathy; J.D. also has some feelings for his mother and for Veronica, despite how dark he becomes. Bud isn't shown to care for anyone at all.

Through Bud's exercise obsession, he's physically tougher than his son, and he seems more emotionally callous as well. No wonder he survives the movie where his son doesn't.

Go Team Bud?

#heathers #Bud Dean #Jason Dean #fandom meta