#ah yes - the bane of my entire existence

[lothiriel84]

"They don't realise that you've taken time out of your day to ruin theirs."

#Foil Arms and Hog #sketch #unsolicited advice #ah yes - the bane of my entire existence #why can't people just mind their own business and leave me alone #(and even worse - why do I need to argue my way out of following their advice?)

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter six — stargazing

WORD COUNT — 1,772

WARNINGS — none

NOTES — ah yes, the iconic skeletal formula fic, which i taught myself how to write a skeletal formula and promptly deleted the info from my brain a week later

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

School was quickly becoming the bane of your existence. Between the economics test you and the others had all studied for last week — which you were extremely thankful for, as it helped your grade immensely — and the teachers grilling everyone about midterms, you were under more pressure than you’d ever felt, and were assigned more homework than you knew what to do with. 

Along with that came the fact that college admissions had finally opened up, and you were entirely unsure as to where you wanted to go. There were good schools in New York City, and for a very long time you had planned to go to one of them with all of your friends so that you wouldn’t have to pay as much for a dorm or an apartment. Now, though, you’d have to do that wherever you went, and you hadn’t been talking to your city friends as much, and you just weren’t sure what to do anymore. No matter how far you went, you’d have to get a dorm or an apartment, and if you chose to go out of state, that meant even more of a cost. 

Today, though, you were focusing on something that, overall, seemed small, but to you, was anything but. You invited Newt over to the house to help you attempt to understand the one subject that seemed to be out to kill your GPA — chemistry. He should be arriving at any minute, wielding his seemingly miraculous understanding of the science in order to help you with the ten homework questions that you’d been putting off since Thursday. 

Dinner had long been eaten and cleaned up, Thomas and Chuck had retreated to Chuck’s room to play video games for the rest of Chuck’s night, and your dad and Maggie were watching a movie in the living room. You were with them, sitting in the armchair and barely processing the movie as you waited patiently for Newt to show up. 

When the doorbell rang, you practically sprung from your chair, ignoring the chuckle your father let out as you did so. Newt greeted Maggie and your dad as you invited him inside, his school bag slung over one shoulder. He received a quick, warm welcome back from the couple as they kept their eyes on the movie.

Newt followed you upstairs as you led him into your room, keeping the door open — a rule firmly set by your dad when you told him about Newt’s coming over this afternoon, though you knew nothing that your dad was implying was going to happen between you and Newt. 

“I still don’t get how you don’t understand chemistry,” Newt said, dropping his bag by your bed and taking a seat on it. 

You scoffed, grabbing your textbook and homework supplies, sitting cross legged near the head of your bed. “Says the guy who was literally named after Isaac Newton.” 

“One, remind me to punch Gally when I see him tomorrow for telling you that,” Newt rolled his eyes, “and two, Isaac Newton was a mathematician, not a chemist. You’re thinking of Marie Curie.”

“Oh, like that makes such a big difference,” you dismissed him, grabbing your pencils. “You’re still named after a freaking genius.” 

Newt laughed, shaking his head before mirroring your position on the bed and diving into the material. 

Half an hour passed by as Newt explained the homework and everything that related to it, but it seemed as though your brain simply refused to process it. You’d only gotten three questions done, and you were twice as frustrated as you were when you first started. 

“How do skeletal formulas even work? I don’t get it.” You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. “Just write out the damn formula, give me a periodic table, and let me figure it out from there.” 

Newt couldn’t stifle his laughter. “It doesn’t quite work like that, Y/n,” he said, writing something out on his piece of paper and showing it to you. “Writing out a skeletal formula is just taking an outstretched version of a molecule and breaking it down into its functional groups and carbon.” 

He turned the paper back to him, writing something out, and underlining ‘2-butanol’ before getting back to work, explaining and showing it to you as he went along. “So, you see how I wrote out all the atoms connected to one another with these lines? C is carbon, H is hydrogen, and O is oxygen. The lines that connect the carbon together is the carbon skeleton, and OH — the oxygen and hydrogen — are the functional group, so they can stay, and so can the carbon.” 

Newt erased some things on the paper before the lead hit the paper, drawing out something new. “Take out all of the letters except for the OH, connect all the lines, and viola,” he showed you the paper with a smile. “A skeletal formula.” 

“Oh,” you nodded, “I still don’t get it.” 

Newt sighed, dropping his pencil onto his paper. “Honestly, I’m starting to think you’re a lost bloody cause.”

“Maybe I am.” You shrugged, glancing around your room before an idea came to your mind. “How about we take a break, do something else, and come back to this with fresh minds.” 

“Like what?”

You smiled, almost mischievously, nodding your head to the window across the room. “Wanna go look at the stars?”

Within minutes, you and Newt had pulled a blanket onto the roof of the garage, laying it out across the shingles in order to be comfortable. Newt had grabbed his jacket from where he put it on the back of your chair, and you brought out your comfiest sweater from your closet. 

Newt was already laying down comfortably by the time you’d gotten onto the roof again, his hands tucked under his head. You laid down in the spot to his right, eyes trailing up to the sky, mesmerized by the view. The quiet of a town already gone to sleep settled over the two of you, washing away the stress of high school chemistry and replacing it with the tranquility of a quiet town and a beautiful sky. 

“It’s so beautiful,” 

“Yeah, it is,” Newt’s voice nearly caught you off guard, as though you’d forgotten he was even there. 

When you turned to look at him, his eyes were already on you. 

Newt sucked in a breath, turning his gaze back to the stars. “I used to do stuff like this all the time when I was younger.” 

“I don’t think I’ve seen stars like this… well, ever.” You admitted. “Living in a big city, all that light pollution… The sky didn’t even get that dark at night. It just got sort of… reddish. It wasn’t even like it was really dark outside sometimes.” 

“Really?” Newt frowned. “I can’t even imagine something like that. When I was young, I had this obsession with the stars and constellations and stuff. Every chance I got, I’d ask my mum to buy me books about them. I even learned how to point out the bloody constellations from my bedroom window.” 

And, for the next little while, that’s what Newt did. For the better part of an hour, though it didn’t feel anything close to that long, Newt pointed up at the stars, rattling off star names, the names of the constellations that connected them, and some of the stories that people connected to them long ago. You watched him happily, soaking up everything he told you. You glanced at him more than you did the sky, though, as the look on his face was what had you truly enamored. The passion and joy gleaming in his eyes was worth the cold chilling you to the bone. 

The chill of the autumn air mixed well with the cadence in Newt’s voice, soothing you until, before you knew it, you were teetering in and out of sleep, balancing very carefully on that dangerous tightrope. 

When you finally found the strength to open your eyes, Newt had fallen silent, eyes locking with yours as a playful smile stretched onto his lips. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You fell asleep,” he laughed. 

“I did?”

“Yeah, about twenty minutes ago, I think,” he shrugged, sitting up. “We might wanna go inside now, though. I’ve gotta go soon, and we still have work to do.”

You groaned, dreading going back to the discarded chemistry textbooks on your bed, watching Newt push himself to his feet and extending two hands to help you stand. You accepted the help and quickly got to your feet, ignoring how warm his hands were in your ice-like ones. 

Still, you folded up the blanket and trudged inside after Newt, returning to your homework and doing your best to complete it within the half hour window you were left with until Newt had to go back home. Most of that time, however, had been spent joking around, mostly about how you were most definitely going to fail the class, until you decided to copy Newt’s homework, which is mainly what you’d been doing for most of the semester, anyway. 

You walked Newt to the door at ten minutes to ten o’clock. Most of the lights in the house were off, and your main guiding light was the TV as your father lay on the couch, passed out with some history docuseries playing absently in front of him. 

You opened the door for Newt, leaning against the frame with one hand on the doorknob after he passed through it and stepped onto the front porch. Just as he began to leave, you said, “Thanks, by the way,”

Newt turned, a playful smile on his face. “For what? Letting you copy my homework for the hundredth time?”

“No,” you scoffed a laugh, “for teaching me something, at least. I might not understand the shrouding mystery behind a skeletal formula, but I do know about the Greek mythology of Orion’s belt, and that’s gotta count for something.” 

Newt shrugged, his smile growing softer with each second. “No biggie. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” You nodded, watching him descend your few stairs and head to his car, pulling away from the curb and heading home. 

Long after his headlights were gone from your sight, you headed inside with a sigh, resting your forehead against the wood of the door as you closed it. And even though the day ahead of you was just going to be another boring, monotonous day, you couldn’t help but be excited for it to begin.

series masterlist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine (open!)

#remember the nights #newt x reader #newt tmr x reader #newt x you #newt x y/n #newt series #newt tmr series #newt fluff #the maze runner fanfiction #the maze runner x reader #au fic #high school au

[tehriel]

Moth and Flame (not Ghoul enough)

Behold, I have finished this fanfic, I am editing chapters as they come out.

Sodo/Dew x Reader primarily. Little Rain and Phantom x Reader too. Reader do just get around.

Mature, more plot over porn.

Tags: banter, attempts at humour, little violence, gore, really don't take this one seriously

Classic enemies to lovers romcom vibes. Not reinventing the wheel should be an easy read. The reader is a too-happy, sparkly ghoul who has been given the position of cardinal. Sodo is the bane of their entire existence; they are forced to work together. Gaffs ensue.

Deals with themes of being a people pleaser.

Below you can find the first chapter~

will probably repost when I have made a pretty cover for this one~

You hummed softly, swaying in the lazy light of early spring. You spun barefoot around your well-trodden paths of the greenhouse, which hid in the great shadow of the cathedral. Your waltz caused your tail to sweep the dirt floor and the skirts of your white cassock to flutter.

You stopped dead in your tracks. “Just look at you~” you chirped, pausing to admire one of your black roses. “Friend, you’re early; the ritual dance isn’t for another three weeks,” you tapped the early bloomer on the head. “Maybe I’ll dry you out so people can still enjoy all the work you’ve put into being pretty, hmm?” You pondered for a while before pouring some water from your watering can. The water ran red. The rose could not be happier.

“Cardinal _______,” came a soft call.

A smile slowly peeled over your face; your teeth were sharp, but your demeanour wasn’t threatening. “Sister Maria~” you sparkled and peered down from the balcony, “I’m in the roses—from memory, you liked my roses, hum?”

“O—o.. yes, Cardinal.” You were her Juliet on your balcony, and the small slight of a girl turned bright beet red.

You cocked your brow and gave her an unassuming grin. “Whatever has you so flustered, Sister?”

“N-nothing, uh, Papa Emeritus has sent for you, Cardinal.”

“And here I was thinking you’d come to see me, Sister,” you teased and picked up your snips from your tool table. “I’ll be down in a moment.” Your voice turned to whisper, “You want to go with her, huh? That’s why you were early, very sly of you.” You took the rose low on the stem and replaced your snips on the bench before walking down the spiral steps, flower in tow. “You look lovely today, Sister~” you twittered.

“Oh, t-thank you…” The scarlet of her cheeks contrasted her black habit.

You expertly dethorned the rose with quick claws.  “Here you are,” you gave a short bow and offered the plant.

“T-thank you, Cardinal,” she stammered and looked away as she twirled the stem between her fingers.

“Anytime, Sister~ You know I appreciate your company~” You twinkled and danced around her, tail moving like a streamer in your wake. “Will you walk with me to see Papa~?”

“No-no, I’m needed in the kitchens today.”

You clicked your tongue, “Ah, too bad—and still, I think I can tell when you are helping out in the kitchens, the meals taste a little extra… mhhm.” You made the universal hand sign for ‘fucking delicious’.

“Oh, I just chop…”

“It’s not what goes in… it’s the way you smell,” you slowly flashed her your teeth.

She swallowed.

“Anyway~ I’ll see you later, Sister; enjoy your rose~” you beamed and near-skipped away to Papa Copia’s offices.

***

“Meet in Aeth’s room after practice?” Rain the water ghoul prompted the group of dark-clad ghouls in his soft-spoken voice.

“Yeah, you can all try my new brew,” Swiss’s grin was too big, it always was.

“Eugh, you didn’t make this one in your toilet again, right?” Aether wrinkled his nose.

“Noooo….” Swiss waved off in a way that everyone with ears could tell he was full of shit.

“Oh, you so did, fucking minging, man,” Aether was loud. His voice echoed up the polished marble hallway.

“Naw, come on, it adds to the-the… experience. It’s fucking powerful stuff—I’ve been bothering Papa for a distiller.”

“I don’t care about the minutia and the abience of your fucking toilet, man!” Aeth’s nose wrinkled.

“I cleaned it before I..”

“Brewed more fucking shit in it?” Aeth’s brows rose in a ‘are you kidding?’ manner.

“Well, I’m in,” Phantom shrugged, “pretty sure I’ve put worse things in my mouth.

“Pretty sure I’ve watched you put worse things in your mouth,” Aether slapped his shorter brother’s shoulder affectionately.

“Uh, hey guys, what are we talking about~?” You twinkled, stepping up to the group. Your white hooded cassock shone colours in the stained glass sunlight, a blinding contrast to their inky black formal ghoul’s uniforms.

“Oh…” is all Swiss said. 

They all went dead quiet. 

You felt the weight of it.

You watched them look at each other. 

Even Phantom couldn’t look at you.

You nodded to yourself, “Uh, I was going to hang out in the forest later this week if anyone wanted to come?” You prompted, still smiling.

“Ah, busy week,” Aether stretched.

“Busy,” Swiss nodded. “Yeah, you know all this ritual prep,” Swiss waved.

“Phantom?” You smiled hopefully. 

“Ah, nah, gonna have to take the L on this one, Cardinal… busy, uh, with them.” He pointed to the rest of the group.

“All uh, week?” You frowned.

“Yeah, yes.” Swiss nodded. “Alllll week, that Copia is a real slave driver.”

You nodded in a big way. “Ah, yeah… I get it, no, uh… probably more fun alone, right…? uh, trees and… yeah. Really absorb the… ambience,” You refused to let your smile die or show any disappointment.

“Anyway, we got a thing with Sodo, like right now, so…” Swiss thumbed.

“That’s right,” Phantom touched his forehead. “Almost forgot that.”

“Oh, cool, yeah, you guys have an awesome day, huh?” You nodded, still beaming as brightly as you could.

“Yes, will do!” Phantom gave a thumbs up but was already walking away.

There was a chorus of ‘bye’s, and they hurriedly walked away. Rain was last to move. “Sorry, Cardinal ______…” he murmured, turning away.

“You know you don’t have to call me that?” You called softly, knowing his grey, pointed ears would still hear you. “Just ______ is fine.”

“______,” he muttered but left anyway.

Your grin shakily gave out, and you sighed softly, watching the leaves dance and mar the light of the windows. You were alone.

***

“Ah, my beautiful Cardi _,” Copia brimmed and stood from his paper-littered desk. He might as well have swum up to you from the depths of ink and paperwork. Poor guy.

“Does not seem fair that I can no longer call you Cardi C, Papa,” you chuckled. “How are you today, Papa E~?”

He was in his comfy red sweats and simple dark eye makeup for a hard day in the office. “Ah yes, good-good. Come sit, my ghoul. You want a biscuit or perhaps a juice box?” He offered you the cookie jar on his desk as he always did.

You sat, your tail ending up politely in your lap as you waved off the biscuit; for some reason, you had no appetite. It definitely had nothing to do with what just happened in the hallway on your way here. “What can I help you with today, Papa~?” You twinkled.

“Naw, can’t I ask you into my office just to catch up?” His grin skewed the black of his painted upper lip.

“I know you wish you could, Papa,” you huffed a small sigh, missing when you were both cardinals and he had actual time on his hands. But humans grew up—and you just wouldn’t.

“I’m taking some holiday time soon, perhaps then, huh?”

“That is the best news I’ve heard all day~” you grinned. “Ooo ooooo, I gotta start planning!”

“Yes, I will book you in for a weekend, but until then, I want you to do something for me.”

“Hmm~? I’m listening.”

“I, uh, need the basement cleaned out and reorganised. I went down looking for what we need for the springtime ritual dance, and I really couldn’t find shit down there.”

“Not even a little turd?” You frowned.

“Very funny,” he said in a way that meant, ‘you’re not funny at all’.

You stood and stretched yourself out. “Last I checked, it’s a fucking hellscape down there; I think I’d know because, uh,” you pointed to the horns that popped out the top of your hood. “But I’ve got this~ Anything else, Papa?” You were already getting ready to leave, though. He just didn’t have time for you anymore, but if this made things easier for him, you were all too happy to help.

“Eh, yes, actually,” he looked away, and his leather-clad finger fiddled with a pen on his desk.

“You’re usually a little more forward about these things,” you chuckled and piqued a brow.

“What? Uh, nah.. it’s…” he cleared his throat. “Sodo will be helping you clear the basement.”

“Eh-what?” You felt your usually springy, chipper mood slipping.

“Sodo is going to be helping you out,” he repeated, but you had definitely heard him correctly the first time. You were praying for a bee to have maybe buzzed passed, and it sounded like people just saying stupid shit for some reason.

“Papa…” you eased. “Papa, this is where you say uh, ‘sike’, and we both laugh because he is an awful shit, and you would never trap me in a basement with him for weeks on end.”

“I am sorry, ______, I am aware of how you feel about him.”

“I am starting to think that may not be the case. Papa, Lucifer created him to be the size of a football for a reason.” You studied his mismatched eyes, trying to detect some kind of joke you were missing.

“A reason, Caro?”

“So that Baggio might one day kick him into the sun.”

Copia laughed before he could stop himself. “Ah, I love Baggio~”

“Come on, Papa, there has to be something more useful he could be doing, like uh, being a hamburger. I have a very good recipe if you ever consider….”

“______,” he shook his head and chuckled, “I’m sorry, it’s out of my hands; Sister caught him trying to set a fire in the abbey again…”

“Of course, he was,” you rolled your eyes. “He keeps saying there are cherubs in there…”

“He’ll be helping you out as punishment.”

“Punish himmmm! Not me! I can do this all so easily by myself.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love you both dearly,”

“I have no idea why…” you muttered under your breath.

“But I worry what would happen if he was in there alone and unsupervised with all our ritual decorations…”

“And the weapons locker,” you huffed, and your lip dropped. “He only has two brain cells, violence and dumb.”

“Naw, come now, Cardinal ______. I am still not wholly sure why you hate him so much.”

“He’s short, angry and mean,” you answered without thought.

“Mean?”

“Oh, you know, ‘______, if you love plants so much why don’t you marry one,’ orrr ‘______, maybe you should sew yourself a body bag next’ orrr ‘______, I get to make love to Swiss, and you don’t so… go eat worms.’ You know, things like this.”

Copia steepled his hands in thought. “I see. Maybe you could, uh, take time and ‘bond’ over this… at least hate each other a little less…”

“Bond? Bond?! Papa! I rather eat glass. I would rather strap on wings and ascend to whatever heaven the Trump supporters go to.”

“At the very least, you will have some more uh, comedic material, huh?”

You blew out your cheeks. “They say trauma makes a person very funny. Eugh, but I’ve already seen hell; why must I survive it here too?!”

“Ah, always so dramatic, my pretty ghoul.”

You gave him a face of utter disapproval.

“I’m afraid it’s my final say on the matter, ______. I believe the two of you can work out the basement without too much damage.”

You closed your eyes for a long time and sighed, “I understand this next ritual takes a lot of time and planning, so I will do this for you, Papa Copia—not for him. For you.” 

“Thank you, my sweet ghoul. Perhaps I will take time to plan out our weekend, huh? As a reward for all this?”

“When did you ever get so charming?” You gave him a tight smile.

“Oh, uh, always~” he grinned. 

“Right, let’s fucking get this done…”

“Hope you have a lovely day, Cardinal~”

“You too, Papa,” you sagged, opening the door. Your tail followed you limply out. Fucking shitty, fuck. Hell.

Thank you for reading friend! I hope you enjoyed it!!

#ghost bc #ghost #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #reader x dewdrop #dew x reader #dew drop ghoul #sodo x reader #sodo fanfic #rain x reader #phantom x reader #rain ghost #phantom ghoul #phantom ghost #rain ghoul #sodo ghoul #tehriel writes

[auxiliarydetective]

Sweeter Than Sugar and Twice As Sharp

Behold! The ultimate cutie of this blog! It's Lily!

Bases by Destinys-Heart and ShinanaPixelBases on DeviantArt

Detailed breakdown and separate baby and kid forms under the cut!

As per usual, we'll be going top to bottom!

The ears. Lily is a fennec fox and fennec foxes have big ears, but baby fennec foxes especially are 90% ears, so the same is true for baby Lily.

Generally, I based Lily's fur colors off of real fennec foxes. Their tails are surprisingly dark!

Have you ever seen fennec fox teeth? They're tiny and razor-sharp. I settled for giving Lily only the canines, in true cute anime fashion. Still, those things cause serious ouchies. You do not wanna be bitten by them.

Funny story about that necklace: I simply didn't like that there was so much dead space in kid Lily's collarbone area, so I decided to add a necklace, but I didn't know what kind of necklace. So, I looked through my gallery and found screenshots from the garden of Kaya's mansion. One of those screenshots showed the pond with the gigantic lily pads - and water lilies! A pun? Perfect! Thus, Lily got a water lily necklace, and I will turn this into a plot point in a future fic because I have something very sweet for it in mind <3

The necklace was originally meant to resemble rose gold, but I'm not sure if I want it to be actual rose gold yet since that would be expensive. We'll see...

Ah yes, the dress. The bane of my existence. I found it on Pinterest and decided that Lily just HAD to wear it. And so, I spent hours drawing and coloring it :) - But I think it turned out really cute!

Lily is a ballerina, in case you didn't know, so she gets the typical tights, leg warmers and shoes. She would actually be in the correct age range to be starting to dance en pointe! Also, her being a ballerina just makes sense to me? She needs a little hobby and ballet just seemed perfect. One day, I'll write some cute scenes of her asking Sanji to help her train...

No shoes on baby Lily both because I did NOT wanna draw those again and also because a five year old should NOT be dancing en pointe. Their poor baby toes and legs and... entire bodies, really. So, she's barefoot like a true kindergartener on permanent summer vacation

H

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄✼▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @supermarine-silvally - let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

#one piece #one piece oc #oc: felicity #fyeahonepieceocs #artsy

[justanotherniky]

hypnosis mic as stray kids songs ☆

Well, yes, because it was necessary, and the brain worms are worming. Stray Kids have something for everyone, HypMic included~

for Buster Bros!!!: 3RACHA

or pretty much any 3Racha song, to be honest. I've said it before and I'll say it again: 3Racha are so Buster Bros coded it's insane. Responsible father figure eldest brother, gym bro middle child, neurodivergent genius little brother??? Hello??? @/3racha do a cosplay some day please

for MAD TRIGGER CREW: FREEZE

mostly for the vibes!!! MTC was probably the hardest one to come up with because I'm always at a loss at what actually fits them best outside of,,, jazzy mafia dudes. The brain worms also proposed Muddy Water and maybe Victory Song?

for Fling Posse: Airplane

and they were definitely the easiest ones. Actually the ones that jumpstarted this entire post today. Airplane just has Fling Posse vibes. Honourable mention to CHILL as well, and to be honest to most of the MAXIDENT album, because it just screams Fling Posse all over the place.

for Matenro: Silent Cry

ah, Matenro. The bane of my existence. (jk I love them) Just. Honestly. All of SKZ's sad songs. I hereby dedicate Alien, VOLCANO, Phobia, and so much more to my favourite angsty bois. (yes I'm a Han Jisung stan, couldn't you tell?)

for Bad Ass Temple: Thunderous

OBVIOUSLY. Nothing but the best for my kings. Kuko would slay Changbin's part and that is final!!!

for Dotsuitare Honpo: CIRCUS

my clown bois. My silly dudes. They're my everything and they get a special silly masterpiece. I also considered CHEESE, simply because the whole "laugh in your haters' face" seems like a very Sasara thing to do.

And that's it for today. Do give my boys SKZ a listen if you don't know them already because they deserve the world and also they're the silliest most talented most adorable human beings ever. 3RACHA AS BUSTER BROS FOR THE WIN

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #stray kids #3racha #hypnosis microphone #song recs #anime #kpop

[rosa-cerdae]

I'm bored right now, so I'm going to share a breeding project I'm working on

So, I recently joined the Dragonwish Foundation through a weird series of events and this is the second project I'm working on for them.

The goal dragon is a umber/gold/sunshine male imperial with metallic/constellation/glimmer and earth eyes.

The main challenge of this project stems from the fact I have to breed in all the genes because they're gem genes, which made the setup of this really hard and expensive, but it's been set up. I'm going to introduce each of the 4 starting pairs and talk about them a little

My first pair is Rhiada and Mimicat. Neither of them were of the right breed, but between them they had all the right genes and very close colors. Contrary to what the breeding card shows you, they actually didn't have umber in their range, but it was still pretty dang close and all of my other pairs have umber in their range, some even have umber guaranteed. They were the first pair I put on a nest, but while they were nesting I realized I should have scrolled them both as nocturnes to save sanity, so I was planning on discarding the entire clutch until

Loreen here popped out. She has all the right genes and is -2/3/0 off from the goal colors. She could even be parent material, but I want to try to take another generation to breed out Nocturnes so I don't have to deal with the pain of a baby with all the right colors and genes coming from the parents but it's a Nocturne. After Loreen was born, I ended up scrolling her into a nocturne (she was originally a snapper) and I sold Mimicat to someone in the DWF. In retrospect selling Mimicat probably wasn't the smartest idea but I still have Rhiada just in case and I'm sure they'll let me borrow Mimicat if I need too.

This is the second pair I have. This one is a bit more complicated. I have since scrolled Pasha into a Nocturne since making this but as you can see, we have a bigger color range. I'm ok with this, as they are the only other pair I have in my starting generation that have a chance for constellation. Myria is a stud, so I'll have limited breedings with her. I probably won't end up discarding most of the hatchlings from them unless they don't have constellation because of how important this pair is. The kid will be guaranteed to inherit Glimmer and I kinda need it to inherit Constellation, but I'm looser on it inheriting Metallic. It would be nice, but I have time to breed in Metallic in the next generation. If they give me nothing workable in the studdings I get, I have another dragon to replace Myria, Noa

Noa is lower quality then Myria, but I don't have much choice if nothing works out.

This pair is probably one of my roughest pairs in this project due their large color range and having only one gene I need for this project. Thinking about it now, I may swap Kaarija and Pasha, but for right now this is the pair. They need to pass on Glimmer and try to get decent colors, that's all I ask of them.

This is my last pair as of right now. Not an amazing color range either, but much better then Kaarija and Ardatha. They're my only pure imperial pair so breed isn't as big of a concern with them. I need them to pass Metallic and Glimmer. I would like them to maybe have a color past gold for secondary and a color before sunshine with the tertiary. I'll just have to see how that works out.

I hope eventually I'll be able to swap Ardatha out for a better dragon, but I don't even want to touch the AH for non Dom reasons right now, so I'll try again later. Ardatha being so far off from the goal is the bane of my existence right now, but oh well .

Yes the dragons I've named for this project are all named after Eurovision 2023 contestants. I like theming things, what can I say?

I will hopefully be providing updates as this project progresses and I hope you're all excited to follow along!

#dwf adventures #flight rising #breeding project #hell

[quietwhispersofaffection]

Written by: Whispers of Affection

Edited by: Whispers of Affection

Date: 2/3/23

Word Count: 1,785 (Itsa big boy)

Status: GREEN

Warnings: None

Pirate Gojou??? I hate this man but this idea was stifling the rest of my creativity, it needed to be written down. Was this inspired by Harry Styles's song…… dEfiAnTlY nOt.

She.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She.

She was always in his dreams, laughing and smiling, a smile as bright as the sun that washed the sea in sparkling colors and sunny skies.

Eyes as dark as emerald pools filled with shimmering stones that held every emotion in its soft waves.

But he didn’t know who she was.

She.

He loved her more than the sea itself. He would do anything for the woman in his dreams.

“Satoru!” She called from the water alongside his boat, that bright smile blinding him. “The water feels amazing! You should come in!”

“Ah, but Darling,” he smirked, looking down and lifting his blindfold to stare at her with his shining eyes, the eyes he knew she loved so much. “I have to watch my crew. You know those men are trouble.”

“They won’t cause trouble!” she laughed, holding up her arms for him, a gentle call for his presence. “Come in with me!”

“You tempt me too much, my love. Get ready I’ll be down!”

She was a piece of heaven that he never deserved.

She.

He loved her so much, the woman from his dreams.

If only he knew who she was.

＿

Satoru opened his eyes to see the ceiling of his captain’s cabin, like every other morning he woke up from that paradise that was his dream. He blinked a few times, thick white eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and eyes sparkling in the dim light the window from the wall provided. He closed them, remembering fondly of his recent visit with her, trying to grasp the thread of a memory that felt like it might slip away.

“Satoru?”

“Yes darling,” he asked, holding her in his arms, staring out at the sea that they both called their home. The waves crashed upon the bluff violently and created a sound like no other, placing them both into a state of pleasant comfort within each other’s embrace. “What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t quite understand.”

“Understand what?” Satoru did not comprehend the vague statement, trying to relax her further with touches as soft as morning rain.

“Why did you go through what you did for me? You traveled the world for me,” she answered, fiddling with his long slender fingers. “You didn’t have to help me, yet you did. And you loved me when I put you through hell.”

Satoru smiled, looking down at her and gently turning her head to face him, feeling her presence even though he could not see her. “I knew from the moment I saw you, that you were the woman of my dreams. My dear, I would cross oceans for you and do it over and over again just to call you mine. I would travel through hell and face Satan himself if just to see you content, our love knows no bounds, darling. ”

Opening his eyes again, he inhaled deeply, face devoid of emotion. Why did she have to be in his dreams, why couldn’t she be real? That thought alone was the entire bane of his existence. She haunted him with that smile every day to the point where his crew thought he might be falling into delusion. She twisted his mind into a state of compliance and left him a lonely man who realized how meaningless his life was without her.

Satoru blinked once more, wondering why she would ever think he wouldn’t love her, or wouldn’t die just to see that smile one last time. Her emotions as of late had been different in his dreams. She was sadder, more insecure, and constantly needed reassurance that he was still there by her side. Normally, Satoru would not find this quality bearable in a woman, he had no time to pick pieces of broken lovers and he was not usually one to pick women who did not match him in power and skill.

But he would pick up her pieces just to try to make her happy. Even though she blatantly did not have any reserves of cursed energy like him, no way to openly defend herself with something as trivial as magic, he would protect her forever. He would die for her if that’s what it took.

“What did she do to me?” Satoru sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes with a wry smile.

His mingled thoughts were interrupted when a brisk knock was put upon his door and someone cleared their throat. Satoru didn’t need to sense the cursed energy to know that it was Nanami, the disgruntled huff was enough.

“Gojo, we are nearing the harbor. Do you want Fushiguro to bring her in?”

“Yes,” Satoru answered after a quick thought, sitting up and tossing his legs over the bed. “He’ll do fine. I've taught him well. Were we followed by Mahito and his band of bitches?”

There was a pause, making Gojo raise an eyebrow. Was his blatant foul mouth too much for his first mate or was there something else? “Nanami, were we followed?”

“No,” he sighed from the other side of the door. “We lost them last night just before we reached these waters. There will be no doubt that they will try to find us but we have a bit of time.”

“Ah good,” he smiled, very pleased by that answer, standing up and going to his drawer filled with clothes. “I would hate to kill them all. Their ship is not designed to keep up with the Infinity so I’m sure they are kicking themselves for losing us. They’re all whale blubber with hair for brains. You can leave now Nanami, I’ll be up in a bit.”

Another sigh. “Alright.”

Satoru stood in silence, waiting for Nanami to go above deck, his footfalls getting farther and higher while he climbed the stairs to get to the outside air. He turned, opened the drawer, and grabbed a fresh pair of trousers and a shirt, putting them on and buttoning up the silver buttons only about halfway, leaving some of his chest exposed. He grabbed his blindfold, slipping it over his head while he leaned back, letting the covering go over his crystalline eyes unhindered by his soft white hair.

He exhaled a tired breath, turned around, and walked out of his quarters. Above deck, he basked in the way the wind hit his face just right. He inhaled the salty air he had grown up around and surveyed his crew, who were starting to hustle to prepare everything.

“Captain on deck!” Todou yelled from his spot refilling the canons with powder, his voice traveling in the wind. “Look alive you rapscallions!”

Gojou chuckled, shaking his head, and walked along the planks of his beautiful ship towards the wheel, waving at Megumi, who adorned a rather disgusted look on his face upon seeing Gojou. “Good morning Megumi! And how are you doing? Taking care of my ship in my stead?”

“Mhm,” he murmured, trying to concentrate on something other than Satoru’s face. “Why did you make me do this?”

Satoru’s smile widened like a Cheshire Cat and Megumi rolled his eyes, deciding it was not worth it to hear his captain's answer. He turned back to the wheel, hoping that Gojou would get bored and walk away to bother another who had more free time on their hands.

“The real reason I’m having you steer the Infinity is that I’ve noticed she has been doing better under your hand,” Satoru answered, face resuming one of a more serious tone. “Since she is technically a weapon imbued with cursed energy, she can feel yours. I think for right now, you have the most potential to become something bigger. You have the upper hand over Itadori and Kugisaki since I am training you three. Use it, sometimes being selfish isn’t all that bad.”

Gojou nodded, turning and walking away from the wheel, leaving Fushiguro to do the job he was getting proficient at.

“Satoru,” she whispered, poking him and turning over in their plush bed, pulling the blankets further up her body. “Satoru I’m cold.”

“Is that so darling,” his voice laced with sleep, eyes slowly opening and staring directly into hers. “And what do you want me to do? Don’t you live in the sea? You should be accustomed to the cold, am I wrong?”

“You know that’s not the same thing,” she practically whined, making him crack a smile at her adorable antics. “Can you please hold me? You're so warm.”

“So, are you saying that you would only be in my arms to be warm and not-”

“Gojou Satoru hold me right now I swear to the gods!”

Satoru laughed, quickly grabbing her by her cute plump stomach and pulling her flush to his chest. He buried his head into the back of her neck and placed a soft kiss there, feeling her relax into what she claimed was his warmth.

“I love you,” he murmured against her skin, gently caressing the now prominent hips that showed when she lay beside him.

“I love you too,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together, bringing their connected hands to her chest. “So much.”

“Gojou?”

“Let’s stay here forever my love.”

“Gojou?!”

Satoru inhaled sharply, turning to Itadori, who was waving a hand in front of his face frantically. “Gojou what happened? Are you ok? You never space out like that?”

Satoru frowned, trying to understand why he was just remembering that now, of all times. That hadn’t been in his dreams had it? No, he would have remembered that.

Then it hit him.

“Don’t you live in the sea?”

“What?” Itadori frowned, starting to feel worried for his captain. “No- no I don’t live in the sea. Are you ok?”

“Yes,” Satoru paused, not truly paying attention to the young man, more preoccupied with the fact that the woman of his dreams did not live on land like the rest of humanity. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Tell me when we are nearing the harbor. I’ll.. be in my quarters.”

“Sure thing! But, why are we going to the harbor? We don’t need to right now. We gathered all of our supplies a few months ago and we don’t need to restock. Plus, we got a whole lot more when we raided that other ship.”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to Yūji,” Gojou called, walking away, expression never changing, making Itadori frown.

The fact was.

Gojou didn’t know why they were going to the harbor either, but he had this very strange gut feeling that it had to happen. And his gut instincts were never something to be ignored.

___________________________

© Whispers of Affection

I do not own any of the characters created by the mangaka of Jujutsu Kaisen but I do not condone rewrites or copies of my work. Reblogs are fine as long as I receive the credit.

#jjk gojou #gojou fluff #gojo imagine #pirate!au #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo fanfic #gojo fluff #fanfic #fan fic things #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #i can do whatever the fuck i want #idk what tags to use #gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo smut

[koushuwu]

I'm hoping to read the rest of your stuff tonight! I got into daiya no ace late so a lot of the blogs are inactive, so it's been refreshing coming across yours lol did a bit of stalking on your posts and I can agree younger brothers best friend is 100% delicious 🫣

ah yes, the struggles of coming to the fandom late. 🫣 tell you what though, the fandom is still alive for sure, albeit the active part isn’t as big as could be. if you want, i could drop a few urls of people still in the fandom. they’re all really lovely people! i am very happy that you do enjoy what you’ve found here and that you’ve gotten into the fandom too! we could always use more active people in the daiya fandom 💕

also listen— both younger brother’s best friend and best friend’s younger brother are literally going to be the bane of my existence. i am down bad for the entire concept and i 👏🏼 need 👏🏼 more 👏🏼

#» answered #» pet: hemlockskookiyama #once again thank you so so much for reading #it means a lot! #and for reaching out too!

[cutieacefuck]

music IS in fact the food of love

#my art #will I ever spend more than a night on a piece? only time will tell lol #ah yes another character to ramble about :3c #anyways this is elysia and her power is Voice so you can kinda assume what THAT entails #she's a lesbian and her gf is marigold's roommate Maha whomst yall have yet to see bc I cannot decide on her colors #I still can't decide on sia's colors but this is it so far #her main color is purple tho so there's that trivia fact #she usually has her hair tied up but I love drawing her wjth different hairstyles bc she's so pretty #she's usually p andro but LOVES being feminine and tends to borrow her gfs clothes #she's the older sister in M's life #also part of the main group of Keegan Marigold Maha Valor and Koyu #and if I HAD to choose I'd say she's closest to Koyu since the other 3 had such a close bond before she came #another fun fact for ya her design I think #along with keegan's #has changed the most dramatically since I came up with her #sia also plays string instruments but reeded ones are the bane of her entire existence and obviously sings since that's her power lol #anyways she's at the school bc her step parent and grandfather didn't like her attitude but her siblings have no idea she's there #bc she writes them letters all the time #something only higher ranking residents and select ones have the priviledge to do #also that crown represents ranks and such and the highest rank is five black dots #which only eden has #so sia is one of the highest ranking residents and has been there for about 8 years? #she's 22 now and has been here since like 14 or 15 give or take #one day I swear I'll make a fucking timeline don't worry #if u don't have a crush on ur characters ur doing it wrong

[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

#this took way longer than ryu anticipated #ryu is nervous and hopes you enjoy ㅠㅠ #part of this was just ryu being a self-indulgent english nerd too #also-new format! #tumblr's new update whoo #stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids soft #stray kids boyfriend #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids minho #lee minho #lee know #stray kids angst #lee know boyfriend #bang chan #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #seo changbin #han jisung #skz as high school lovers

[tqmies]

Get Lost

Description. You and Yeonjun fighting was a guarantee. What wasn’t? Yeonjun staying out of your way.

Pairings. choi yeonjun x female reader 

Genre. angst, enemies to lovers, a bit of fluff, open ending (kinda) 

Warnings. cursing, yeonjuns a jerk, glass and mentions of blood, bad writing.

Word count. 6.4k

Notes. finally finished this! i hope you all like it :) 

You wish Yeonjun would simply get lost.

It seemed like the devil himself came up from hell and materialized into said boy. And the boys purpose? To ruin your day, and every single day after that.

Okay maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but then again, you’d never be as dramatic as Yeonjun. Like the one time he threw three hundred dollar bills at you and demanded you leave. Or the time he rented your favorite restaurant on your date night and told them not to let y’all in.

He was a pain in the ass, but a creative one, you’ll give him that.

You scoff at the thought, walking aimlessly to the café on campus. You had less than an hour until your next class and didn’t feel like hanging out with your friends in the club room again. You got along with them pretty well, you’re usually not one to pick a fight anyways.

That is unless the fight is between you and a certain Choi Yeonjun. Ah yes, the very bane of your existence, right here in the café you just entered.

Your best friend grins at you as his eyes meets yours, signalizing for you to come sit with a wave of his hand. You almost refuse, figuring maybe its best to save your sanity for today. You didn’t even know they’d be here at this time of day.

You weigh your options, make Hueningkai upset or endure a small coffee break with him and his mostly-enjoyable friends. You look back at the grinning boy himself, and just like every time, you take the bait.

“So she joins!” Beomgyu rejoices, handing you a coffee as your brows furrow in confusion.

“A coffee? For me? How’d you know I was coming?” You smile, curiously.

“Kai has your location on and saw you were heading this way so he ordered you a coffee.” Soobin explains, Hueningkai too occupied with his phone to even hear what you said.

“I see,” You laugh, about to bid them goodbye when Beomgyu speaks up again.

“Sit sit, I  saved you a spot right next to me.” He winks, scooting over the café bench to create a seat for you.

“Ah I don’t know..” You grimace, avoiding eye contact with another boy present. The extremely awkward atmosphere of sitting across from him would make you wanna fall into a hole in the ground. “I should get going! Don’t wanna be late for class!”

“Okay one, you have forty five minutes till class starts. Two, we can drive you back, which will save you about ten minutes, so you can afford to stay.” Taehyun grins, satisfied with the look on your face.

It was obvious what you were trying to do, but leave it to the boys to not let you go so easily. Nothing was ever easy with them anyways.

“I hate when you make sense.” You sigh, sitting down in your ‘reserved’ spot.

“Not as much as you hate Yeonjun.” Beomgyu teases as you scoff. The boy across from you just fumbles with his glasses, ignoring everything being said.

“Yeah she hasn’t said a word to him the entire time! It’s like he’s a ghost!” Taehyun teases, laughing as you cringe from being put on the spot.

“He hasn’t said anything either! Yeonjun, are you still with us?”

The two boys banter as you and Yeonjun just silently stare.

Well, more like he stares at you staring at the ground.

“Cut it out!” He whispers sharply. Rolling his eyes as Soobin pats his shoulder in a feeble attempt to ease him.

“Anyways,” Hueningkai interrupts, garnering your attention. “We have this charity ball thing that Heejin is throwing for her birthday, and I need a date!” He speaks, turning to make eye contact with you.

“Hey! Not fair! I was gonna ask her.” Beomgyu says, grabbing your arm and interlocking it with his.

“She was my friend first!” The younger boy whines, stomping his feet like a child denied a toy in a supermarket aisle.

You smile outwardly but on the inside you were absolutely losing your mind. A charity ball? What was that? You had only seen those in dramas. Girls in poofy dresses and tall heels, guys with suits, and a big cake somewhere that never even gets eaten.

Only to these boys, this wasn’t a drama, this was their real life. Sometimes you wonder how it slips from you that you are friends with some incredibly rich people.

To you, Hueningkai was just a boy you met on the playground when you were six; To others, he was a tech moguls son. First in line to be the next boss of the capital enterprise and a model student.

Sure, your family had money, enough to get by at the least. You never felt jealous nor did you ever allow him to pay for anything. Why would you? You knew your friend couldn’t help that he was swimming in cash, it was a family thing.

The other boys were in similar instances as well.

Soobin’s mom was a badass business lawyer, one of the top in her fields. She was so good she ended up buying the firm she was working for.

Long before Beomgyu was born, his great grandparents invested in a odd mechanics dream. Now he owns seven islands and a yacht big enough to fit a small city population.

Taehyun’s dad was a international world-renowned actor, but that was a story for another day.

Then there’s Choi Yeonjun.

No one really knows where he gets his money, some think he robs banks. Some have even gone as far as to say hes in the mafia. All you know is has a big load of cash, and an even bigger mouth to match. In the sense that he never shuts up.

Actually, the fact that he hasn’t said anything to you yet has got to be a new record. By now he’d usually have spat out some weird remark at you.

“Like she’d know how to behave at an event like that!”

And there it is.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” You fire back, ready to start swinging. Being around him always had you on edge anyways.

“It means what I just said. Girls like you don’t know how to handle themselves in general, let alone a fancy party.”

“A girl like me?” You taunt, standing up.

“Alright that’s enough.” Someone speaks as an arm pulls you back. You’re turned to be faced with another boy as an evil plan hatches in your mind.

“Get your dog, Soobin.” You snicker, knowing that comment would set Yeonjun ablaze.

“Now you-“

You didn’t get to hear the rest of Yeonjun’s sentence as Soobin drags you out of the cafe. You wave goodbye to the familiar barista on the way out, Soobin’s clutch on your wrist getting even tighter.

As you’re outside you can hear him muttering “One day! One peaceful day! Is that too much to ask?” As you two arrive to his car. Clearly annoying at the childish display,

He unlocks it and gestures for you to get in, you oblige, figuring it was the least you could do for ruining his morning. 

He could get scary when he was mad. He starts the car and then leans back in his seat. You mentally sigh. All of these signs pointing to you getting lectured. 

“Why-“ He starts, before you speak up.

“Soobin-“

“Why,” he repeats sternly, warning you not to interrupt again. “Must you and Yeonjun fight all the time?”

“Ask him,” You respond meekly. “He started it”

“After you pretended he didn’t exist!”

“Isn’t that better than fighting with him?” You squeak, sinking down in your seat. And you believed firmly in your point.

“I just don’t get it! How did this even all start?” He prompts, you wondering that just as much as he did.

You had all known each other for years, the boys slowly joining you and Hueningkai’s friendship one by one until you were the size you were today.

So where had things gone wrong with Yeonjun? You two used to be so close. In fact, you were closer to him than Hueningkai at one point. 

You just remember one day in the school yard, you caught him ranting about how he couldn’t stand you and how annoying you were. 

If only he had turned around, maybe he would’ve noticed how you stood there with his favorite lunch you had made to surprise him with. 

The worst part is how clueless he was to your knowledge, continuing to try to hang out with you despite the things he said. Even telling your friends that you just started ignoring him for no reason. You didn't owe anyone an explanation, and to be honest, you found the whole situation embarrassing. So you kept the details to yourself, not even telling Kai.

Since then, things went downhill fast.

You had been at each others throats since then, ruining most normal get together’s with your consistent bickering.

Yeonjun started the aggression after he got ‘fed up’ with your behavior. Hueningkai, for some odd reason, thought you two could still get along though. Hence his instance on you all still hanging out. You know he only had good intentions but couldn’t he just let you and Yeonjun be?

“You know this isn’t my fault,” You cross your arms as you look at your lap.

“Jesus Christ, you two are going to make me lose my mind.” He responds, putting his forehead on his steering wheel. 

You’re about to ask him what he means when you two are startled by a knock on his window. 

“Beomgyu!” You smile as Soobin’s window rolls down. 

“Oh thank god,” He feigns relief, putting a hand on his chest. “I was scared you guys were like making out or something.” 

Soobin groans at the comment as the other boy just laughs.

“Whats up?” You ask.

“Yeonjun wants to apologize,” Beomgyu speaks, bringing the older boy into view in front of your window. He had him clutched by the arm, and it was clear he was brought here by force.

You two just stared at each other, you leaning forward and raising your eyebrows, as if telling him to get along with it. You could tell he had no intention of actually apologizing but it’d be nice to get one at least.

“I’m sorry,” He sighs, refusing to make eye contact with you. The words had come out muffled and lazy. 

Nevertheless, apologies from the boy were rare, his pride always being in his way. So you want to soak this in as long as possible.

The boys must’ve made one enticing deal with him to even get him out here. You knew you were acting a bit immature, but that had never stopped you before.

“I don’t think I heard you, come again?” You smile.

“I said, I’m sorry” He repeats through gritted teeth.

Satisfied, you grin widely, cause screw being the bigger person. 

You’re about to respond when he continues, 

“That you’re so fucking unbearable”

Never mind, you take it back. He just knew exactly how to get under your skin. You don’t even think for a split second before moving into a course of action.

You’re livid and you’re going to make sure he feels your wrath, so you do what any sensible person would do.

You attempt to fight him from the window. You almost manage to grab a handful of his hair before Beomgyu pulls him back, You also being pulled to your seat by Soobin.

You’re telling him to let you go but he doesn’t listen, his hand wrapped firmly around your arm. He rolls the window up in an attempt to seal you both off. Good thing you can still give Yeonjun the finger just as well as he can return it.

-

“This has got to end.” Soobin speaks as he stands with his arms crossed at the edge of the couch where Yeonjun lies.

Taehyun and Kai listen in as Beomgyu plays some game on his phone, more amused with the whole thing rather than concerned.

“Please just try and be civil with her for once!” Taehyun speaks up.

“Wait, what even happened after you guys ran off to apologize?” The youngest boy chirps in.

Soobin and Beomgyu exchange looks before the latter throws a thick pillow into Yeonjun’s face. 

“Yah! What was that for?” He groans, throwing the pillow back as he sits up. 

“For not apologizing to her!” Beomgyu explains, actually pissed off.

“You didn’t apologize?” Kai asks as Soobin shakes his head before speaking, “He made another stupid comment and she made a pass at him! I had to stop her from jumping out the window!” 

Taehyun bursts out laughing, falling back into the couch as he continues. Leave it up to you to initiate a fist fight.

“It’s not funny! Beomgyu grabbed Yeonjun but the whole time he was yelling ‘Worldstar’!” 

“He’s lucky I even grabbed him! With that look she had in her eyes I’m confident she could’ve rocked his shit.” Beomgyu retorts. 

Yeonjun rolls his eyes as he calls bullshit, though he knows its essentially a fact.

But never mind that, there were more pressing matters to attend to, such as Heejin’s big event.

One that they still hadn't got you to agree to, seeing as you were somewhat hurt by Yeonjun’s comment. Damn you Yeonjun! 

Two days later, Hueningkai stands in the middle of a store (much too fancy for your liking) and presses on about it. He had managed to persuade you out of the house. Which was a bit of an accomplishment in itself.

”Look it’ll be fine, I’ll even buy you a dress!” Your best friend offers, hoping his smile will convince you.

”I just don’t think it’s a good idea..” You speak, avoiding eye contact as he shoves another sparkly dress into your arms.

“Oh come on, I have more than enough money,” he rolls his eyes, “I can buy you one little dress”

Little? The price tag on this dress was no where near little.

“It’s not about the dress Hyuka.” You start before the boy cuts you off.

“This is about Yeonjun,” he sighs, “Yes I know.”

You know you should jump to deny it, to tell him how wrong he was, but you were never the best liar.

“Which is why you should go,” He says, resuming his browsing through the racks before handing you another dress of your favorite color.

“Look I don’t know what you and him have going on, and he can be a little asshole sometimes I know,” you laugh as he continues, “Which is why you should show him up at Heejin’s.” 

You know he’s somewhat right. It’d be great to show up all beautiful and stunning to her party. Showing Yeonjun that you could indeed handle yourself at an event like that. 

Your friend just gives you a thumbs up and drags you to the other end of the store to try the dresses on, knowing you’re thinking about what he said. 

Two hours, and one large mango smoothie later, you two finally head out of the mall. You having settled on a gorgeous dress, but not before fighting your friend while paying. You two basically wrestled in the store before he made you a proposition. He’d pay for the dress while you paid for the shoes, all’s fair. You disagreed, feeling you should pay for both things but, you know how convincing this boy is. ‘This is a one time thing’ You had warned, hating him paying for it.

“So you want me to drop you off at home?” He asks, to which you softly nod. 

“Oh come on! Just cause Yeonjun’s home doesn't mean you can’t come over!” He complains. 

The boys all lived in one fancy apartment, opting to live together before they inevitably split up. How they could stand each other that long? You’d never know.

“I’d just rather not see him right now is all.” You shrug, to which he responds “It’s been two days!” 

“That’s not even nearly close to the amount of time I’d like to avoid him!” And you were honest, things were still really tense.

“Please!” He continues, “I’ll order those pork buns with the panda design on them if you say yes!”

You could never resist those damn pork buns.

“F-fine!” You hesitantly agree, crossing your arms. 

-

“This is mine!” You speak, not loosening your grip on the glass bottle of soda. You had picked out the pack when you and Beomgyu last went on a convenience store run, and you’d be damned if you didn’t get the last one. 

“If its yours, why is my name on it?” Yeonjun speaks, gripping the other side tightly. He was standing right behind you, having approached you and attempting to snatch the bottle. 

You hadn't let up though, thus keeping you two in the awkward position of his hands over your body grabbing onto the soda. Your back slightly pressed into his firm chest, though all your focus was on the bottle.

“I don’t know! Maybe because you wrote it on there when you knew it was mine!” You grunted, pulling harder. You were mostly correct. He wrote his name on all the bottles the day you brought them over. He just wanted to see you pissed off.

Currently though, he had trapped you against the counter. You hated how tall his stature was, he obviously had the upper hand. Holy shit, had he been working out? Since when was he so strong? You pushing against him hasn’t made him move an inch.

“Why do you always have to fight with me! It’s clearly mine!” He proclaims once again. 

“Yah, you two!” Soobin appears from the hallway, “Knock it off! I’m trying to watch this show!” He complains. 

Yeonjun, taking notice of how you let your guard down, tugs again at the soda. To which you push back onto him, ready to punch him, that is until the sound of glass shattering registers in your head. It’s too late though, and by then, you’ve already stumbled onto several pieces of glass, and some very sticky soda. 

You wince in pain, ready to start yelling. That is, until Yeonjun quite literally sweeps you off your feet. He has you in his arms (Seriously, had he been working out?), carefully trying to avoid the mess on the floor. Before you can even protest, he sets you down on the counter, avoiding the shards on the floor. He then quietly proceeds to grab a broom and clean the mess up.

You’re too stunned to speak altogether, trying to ignore your heart beating roughly against your chest. This wasn’t his normal behavior at all, you’d expect him to blame the mess on you and just leave.

You’re drawn out of thought when Taehyun approaches the situation, not even looking slightly surprised.

 “Where’s Hyuka?” He asks, barely glancing over the mess, as if it was a everyday occurrence.

“He went to go pick up some cakes,” you speak.

You remember how he told you that you’d be fine alone, oh how wrong he was. 

“He just left you?”

“The audacity! I didn't even want to come over in the first place but he bribed me with food.” You roll your eyes, before bring down your hand to clutch your foot. You were met with blood. 

Taehyun smiles but then he notices your foot, “Don’t tell me you stepped in it”.

“I did.” 

“Here let me have a look” He speaks as he lifts your foot up. 

“How are you not crying right now?” He trails, visibly cringing.

“What?” You panic, was there a big shard in your foot? How were you going to walk? Did yeonjun seriously just put you in crutches? Okay even you knew when you were exaggerating. 

“I’m messing with you.” Taehyun laughs, you hitting his shoulder.

You two giggle as he tells you that there’s just a few pieces of glass but that he could get them out with some tweezers. You thank him as he stands to retrieve said tools, ‘my knight in shining armor’ you say. 

You were so thankful for your friend, almost forgetting all about the other boy cleaning the mess behind you until he speaks, “You and Taehyun getting close huh?”

“What’s it to you?” You bite back, still pissed off at the altercation.

“He’s my friend.”

“He’s mine too,” You retaliate, “It’s none of your business anyways”

“Okay see that’s where you’re wrong”, He argues “It in fact, is my business”

“How?” You challenge, it was unbelievable how fast he could make your blood boil.

“Because Taehyun’s my business..” he starts, “And so are you.”

Oh hell no. 

Did Choi Yeonjun, the cause of your current mess, just try to indirectly tell you he cared about you? After all this time? He’s trying to pretend he cares?

“I’m nobody’s business.” You grit your teeth, “And if I was, I sure as hell wouldn’t be yours” 

“I’m just trying to look out for you.” He explains, digging himself in a deeper hole. When has he ever tried to look out for you?

He hasn't had one ounce of care for you in a long time and all of sudden he wants to play big brother? 

“Look after me?!” You’re full on yelling now, “After you been up my ass about everything for these past few years?” 

He stays silent as you press on. “Now you want to act like you care?” You scoff as you hop off the counter, wobbling on your one uninjured foot. 

“Tell Taehyun I’m in the living room.” You speak, tone laced with venom, not even wanting to look at Yeonjun for a second longer.

-

After three pork buns, a plate of mochi, and a bandaid, you sit on the couch mindlessly playing on your phone. Kai had returned and taken his rightful place beside you, trying to set up a game on his virtual reality headset.

All was at peace until you spoke up.

You had never confided in Hueningkai about the whole thing, truth be told. The other boys probably had a better idea of you and Yeonjun relationship. But it was all so confusing.

You had held in the bitter taste in your mouth for too long, you needed to make sure he understood the gravity of your dislike for Yeonjun.

“Kai,” You abruptly speak, him looking up to quickly meet your eyes.

“What’s up?” He says, resuming his previous activity.

“Can we talk..?”

After noticing the edge to your voice, he sets the headpiece down and turns to fully give you his attention.

After a few beats of silence he speaks “Is this about the ball? I’m sorry if you felt pressured, I’d never want to make you uncomfortable. So if you really don’t want to go-“

“It’s not about that” You softly cut him off. You swore you heard a quiet sigh of relief as he looks back down.

“Do you know why Yeonjun and I don’t get along?” You question.

The boy just stares blankly back at you, wondering where this is going.

“I used to like Yeonjun, quite a lot actually.” You laugh, thinking back to your early school days.

You were used to offering him you lunch when he forgot his, sharing your after school snacks, even small things like lending him a pencil.

You always had his back. So why, the time it mattered most, didn’t he have yours?

“I remember that, you guys used to hang out a lot.”

“Yeah well, remember that day we skipped in highschool? When we ran to your house and we ate three tubs of ice cream as I cried over dog movies?”

“I do.., you never did tell me why you were so upset before that though…”

“Well you know how I used to eat lunch with Yeonjun?”

“Yes…” he starts, “Where is this going?”

“I went to give him some food I packed him, and he was talking about me.”

“Well that’s normal, friends talk about friends” he justifies.

“No it wasn’t in that way. H-he called me annoying and said he hated being around me.” Your eyes begin to well, fighting the tears about to fall.

“He said no one really likes me, and that I was just some stupid girl he had to hang out with.” You say, the recalling of the memory hurting as bad as it did in the moment.

You grew quiet as hyuka pulled you into his arms. his larger frame swallowing yours as he caresses your head. Burying your head into his shoulder, words just keep pouring out. 

“Why would he do that? He was supposed to be my friend” You sniffle, tears falling freely. Tears you weren’t even aware were pooling in your eyes.

“Shhhh, its ok,” He assures.

You don’t even know why you were crying. Maybe it was the pain of losing your best friend at the time? Or the fact that you had a well unrequited crush on him?

All you knew was that it hurt.

On the other hand, it felt good to get it all out. You had never confronted your feelings head on. It let you release a breath you hadn’t realized you weren’t holding.

Too bad it had to involve you getting snot all over your friends incredibly expensive shirt.

Whatever, you’d deal with that later. Right now all you wanted to relish in your teddy-bear like friends comfort. Unbothered.

Well that went out the window the minute Choi Beomgyu spotted you crying.

He started flailing his arms around and accusing the younger boy of making you cry. You just giggled as he denied the accusations, finding the situation funny.

“Well then why was she crying?” Beomgyu asks, interrogating the boy seated next to you.

“There’s only one explanation” The boy talks to himself before pointing at you two. “You and hyuka have been in a secret relationship for years and you’ve had to break up because he has an arranged marriage!”

Silence fills the room as Beomgyu realizes his conclusion was very very wrong.

“I might have been a bit off..” The boy admits sheepishly.

“Hyuka and Y/n?” Soobin speaks, walking into the room. “I saw it coming”

“Ok no no,” Hueningkai says, standing up. “She was just a little upset over the drama we were watching!”

“Hmm,” beomgyu presses on, looking closer at you. “I’ve seen drama tears before, and those are not it!”

“It was Yeonjun,”

Another voice speaks, one you hadn’t been aware of before.

Taehyun was sitting there the entire time, out of you and your friends view, in the kitchen. Holding a cup of tea as he stirs sugar into it in an attempt to look busy. You easily call bullshit, he doesn’t even like tea. 

Screw their gorgeous apartment, with the thin walls and stupid open concept floor-plan. You never understood why they’d all desire to be in others business that bad anyways. Any little noise could be heard throughout the house (including the time Beomgyu knocked himself out on the fridge while sleepwalking) 

You just sit there, silently praying Taehyun won’t elaborate.

“She was crying because of Yeonjun. The whole reason they started fighting was because he was shit talking her behind her back.” He speaks, looking disappointed, placing his cup on the counter. 

So much for prayers.

“What? But that doesn't make any sense?” Beomgyu frowns, stomping his feet.

“What do you mean?” Hueningkai reasons, “You know how Yeonjun can be.”

“Because he’s in love with her!” 

Silence fills the room at the revelation as you all become living question marks.

Beomgyu quickly slapping his hands over his mouth as if the news just slipped.

“What !?”

“Now hold on-”

“Why didn’t he tell ME?”  

You just sit, your thoughts drowning out their voices. Yeonjun? Choi Yeonjun? In love with you? Yeah right. When pigs fly then maybe you’d believe that.

You call bullshit as you stand from your place, grabbing your shoes as you intend to exit the apartment. You barely make it two seconds when the other boys come running after you, pleading for you to stay.

“You guys are just making stuff up to get us to get along!” You say, frustrated.

“Please just listen to Beomgyu explain! I’m sure it’ll make sense then!”

Make sense? Nothing about this made sense. What, that Yeonjun teased you cause he liked you? He was a grown man, not a child. You didn’t buy it for a second.

Nevertheless, you slipped your shoes off and held onto Hueningkai as he led you back to the living room.

“You have two minutes,” You speak. “Or I’m out of here and we never talk about this again.”

Beomgyu looks taken aback at the statement. And in all honesty, he’s scrambling to explain it in a way where Yeonjun doesn’t come off as a total asshole.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Okay okay, so I know this is going to sound bad but, you know how high school boys are!”

“Get on with it!” You roll your eyes.

“The whole reason he called you that is because he didn’t want his friends to think he’d like you!”

“Is it that unbearable for people to think he liked me?” You ask sarcastically.

“No! He just didn’t want you to find out!” Beomgyu informs you.

“Thats really stupid.” Soobin admits, and you agree wholeheartedly.

“He went about it in the wrong way, yes! He just didn’t want to be rejected!”

“So he’d rather hurt her feelings?”

Beomgyu looks stumped at the question before he throws himself on the couch and sighs.

“Yeah he’s an idiot”

You nod your head along but the whole situation dawns on you. Yeonjun liked you? All that time? Why wouldn’t he just tell you?

“He tried to fix things but at that point, he said every time they talked they would fight. But he told me he was okay with that, as long as he was back in her life.” Beomgyu admits, knowing Yeonjun would kill him if he found out he’d repeated it.

However, the younger boy felt it was about time you knew, Yeonjun had kept far too much from you.

You, however, wished you hadn’t heard any of this. You couldn’t believe the time you wasted sobbing over the boy. All because of his stupid actions.

“Beomgyu,” Taehyun starts, “You said ‘In love’ correct ?”

“Yes?”

“As in currently?”

Well shit you think, he still liked you? After the hell you put each other through? All while you were a 110% sure he hated you. This was all too much.

You needed time, and lots of space.

You collect your things, despite protests, and really head out the door this time. They let you go, knowing you needed to clear your head

As you reach the elevator, you’re surprised as it opens just in time.

Only for you to stand face to face with Yeonjun.

-

It’s been a solid week since the incident at the apartment.

Referring to the episode you had as you started sobbing outside the elevator.

Yeonjun, bewildered, helped you into the elevator and even took you home. He didn’t even ask you any questions, just let you sit still as he drove to your place. No words exchanged except for the small ‘Thank you’ you muttered when he dropped you off.

You’ve been thinking of him a lot lately, maybe a bit too much. You look at the corner of your room, the dress sits perched on the chair.

It was the day of Heejin’s infamous social, and you knew how badly the boys wanted you to be there.

Despite you barely talking to them lately, only answering occasional texts and calls.

But could they blame you? You were processing a whirlwind of emotions. At this point, you weren’t even sure what you felt towards Yeonjun. He had hurt you so bad but you knew it was a mistake. Could you forgive him?

Would you be able to keep it together if you saw him tonight ?

You brush the thoughts away as you pick up your phone, making a final decision.

The ringing echo’s in your ear as your friend finally picks up.

“Hey! I was actually-“

“Come over,” You interrupt, hearing Kai’s voice falter.

“I wanna get ready for Heejin’s and I need help” You announce, the boy already celebrating on the other side of the phone.

“I’m so excited! You know you don’t have to-“

“Get over here before I change my mind !”

About two hours after your best friend arrived, you finally deem yourself presentable.

The dress looks gorgeous on you! And the way you did your makeup somehow made you even more stunning than you already were. You were ready, for what exactly? Who knows? All you knew is you were going to have the time of your life in a room full of snobby rich people.

-

The party was shaping up to be better than you expected, a lot more loose than it initially was.

You were having a great time with the boys (sans Yeonjun, which you were thankful for) but it didn’t last too long.

He arrived fashionably late, looking breath taking. But next to him, was a just as breath taking girl. God, she was gorgeous, not even, that was an understatement.

You don’t know why but you felt a bit, jealous.

He approached you and the rest as he held onto her hand, she looked absolutely in love with him.

Great.

You did your best to seem unaffected by the whole thing, I mean, it’s not like Yeonjun had any idea.

So you brush it off and continue nursing a drink that was far too watered down by now. His date wonders off as he talks to his friends.

Pretending you were invisible as well, nothing out of the ordinary.

“You clean up nice” He smiles, before he continues. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Beomgyu mentally face palms as he watches the interaction. Geez Yeonjun, could you not be a dick for two seconds?

You ignore him and roll your eyes before speaking, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

He leans in, a bit too close for your comfort, and responds, “Then why don’t you let me find out?”

You physically gag out of reflex, not believing what was happening, before you burst out laughing.

“Goodbye Yeonjun.” You announce before going to the dance floor, hopefully to take your mind off of the interaction.

He was so close to you, his striking eyes, his lips, and his soft hair. All within arms reach, which hadn’t been common for years.

You ignore the beating in your heart as you look back to your table and see the boys arguing: Probably about you being ‘unfit’ to be here.

“Wait, you told her?” Yeonjun yells, baffled; Ready to strangle the lights out of Beomgyu.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you did!” He defends.

“I couldn’t! She wouldn’t even give me the time of day!”

“And who’s fault is that?” Taehyun speaks up.

Yeonjun sighs in defeat, “Mine! Look I know I messed up but.. I didn’t even think she’d find out.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Taehyun responds, “You were so worried about covering your own back that you didn’t think about her feelings!”

“I know, I know,” The older boy continues, “I want to apologize!”

“Well this idiotic plan is not making it any better.” Soobin speaks, not believing what Yeonjun and Beomgyu had constructed.

Yeonjun’s date was just some girl Beomgyu paid to pretend to be the others date. All in the attempt to make you jealous, for whatever reason, but it wasn’t working.

“She doesn’t even care!” Yeonjun looks back at you, dancing with some stranger. “She laughed at me!”

“She laughed at your attempt to flirt.”Hueningkai corrects, knowing you couldn’t stand that corny stuff.

“I already told you, all this elaborate scheming” He waves his hands, “Is totally useless, just go for it directly.”

Yeonjun literally panics at that idea. Just go up to you? And confess? When you possibly hated him? Yeah… no.

“Kai that plan’s even worse than mine.” Beomgyu smirks, “He doesn’t have the balls.”

“Who doesn’t?” Yeonjun turns back, feeling confronted. 

“You.”

“Say I won’t go up to her and do it right now”

“You won’t.”

Beomgyu knew exactly what he was doing; Yeonjun was never one to back down from a challenge. He was hoping the boys pride would work in his favor for once.

Yeonjun hears no more of this before he’s leaving the table, searching for you in the sea of bodies.

You’re lost in your own world in that point, dancing with a boy whose name you haven’t caught. Not that it mattered anyways, you were just having fun.

“Let’s go,” You feel a hand grab your arm, turning you to face him.

“Yeonjun?” You say surprised.

“You know him?” The unnamed boy asks.

“N-“

“Yes, she knows me. I need to talk to her.” Yeonjun interrupts you, looking eager to drag you away.

“I don’t think so.” The other boy argues.

“Stay out of this Heeseung.”

“Do you want to go with him?” Heeseung (You guess?) looks at you.

“Uh-“ You look back and forth. Yeonjun wouldn’t want to talk to you unless it was an emergency. It could be an issue with one of the boys. You couldn’t risk that.

“I’m sorry!” You apologize as you grab onto Yeonjun.“It was nice to meet you! Thank you for the dance!” You speak as the boy drags you away.

He takes you into the hallway of the venue, away from the loud music and chatter.

Yeonjun was shaking inside, he couldn’t believe he was about to do this. Finally, he was going to let it out.

“Hey,” He speaks, brain scrambling while he thinks of what to say.

“Yes?” Confused, you avert your eyes as you look around.

“I like you.” He admits, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

Although to his surprise, you smile. “I know.”

“I know, I just..” He trails. “I had to tell you. Please don’t feel pressured to-”

“I don’t,” You interrupt. “Yeonjun it’s kind of hard for you to expect me to like you back given the circumstances..” 

“I understand completely.” He speaks, and he truly did. 

“But I did,” You say unexpectedly. “In fact, I think I loved you.” 

Yeonjun’s shocked at that statement, and so are you. You never thought you’d be here, telling him this, especially under these circumstances. 

Not with the future being uncertain, and your past being so brutal. You didn’t know where things would go from here, and if this all was even a good idea. But what is life without risks? You had to take this chance.

“If I loved you back then, I believe I can again.”  

#yeonjun #yeonjun txt #yeonjun fanfiction #yeonjun fic #yeonjun ff #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun tomorrow x together #yeonjun timestamps #txt fanfiction #txt fic #txt imagines #yeonjun imagines #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together fanfiction #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fanfictions

[voiceless-terror]

I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer

Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.

He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat. 

It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.

Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.

He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.

And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks. 

She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.

Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.

Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked. 

It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.

A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.

But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it. 

He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”

His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.

“Can you send Tim in, actually?”

______

“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”

Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing. 

On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.

And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.

He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up.  He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be. 

“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.

“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”

“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.

“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”

A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”

“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.

“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant. 

He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it. 

“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is. 

“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”

Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice.  He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.

“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.

“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”

“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him. 

He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.  

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.

Good luck.

He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.

If this is genuine…

Jon prays that it isn’t. 

And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071

reblogs > likes

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #jonathan sims #tim stoker #season one jon feels #with added tim #in which rye has feelings about jon 'dismissing' statements and thinking it could be a joke and TRUSTING TIM #what else is new #reblogs appreciated <3 #a light bit of #jontim

[forever-rogue]

Could I request a Javi x reader fic? Javi and fem!reader are in a secret but established relationship and are at the formal DEA Christmas party when from across the room Javi sees reader politely talking to some bigwig who then makes a physical advance on her?

Sorry this is a little late, but enjoy! 🥰 I am ever so soft for some protective Javi!  🥺

Javier x Fem!Reader; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

His eyes were practically glued to you as he watched you flit around the room, looking more gorgeous than anyone should, and saying hello to everyone with a big smile. Gods, that smile - it was enough to thaw his icy heart and bring him to his knees. Javier bowed to no one, but he would always kneel for you.

You were wearing a strappy, low cut red dress, a new number he noted, that clung to your curves in all the right places, leaving just enough to the imagination. As much as he liked the outside, he couldn't wait to unwrap his present soon and get to the real treasure. And you had definitely made sure that the underneath was just as good, if not better than the outside. But that part was for him, and him only.

You had moaned and groaned about the annual Christmas party all afternoon, wanting nothing more than a quiet evening spent with him and Steve and Connie drinking and fucking around. But if you were irritated about being there, it didn't show. Your laughter was infectious as you pulled everyone around you into your orbit. It was hard not to; even Javier had fallen for you in about 10 seconds, despite what he claimed; the fact that you both ended up in bed together after your first day was another story. One that he wouldn’t ever let you forget. You hadn’t been keen on him after your first introduction, but somehow something had pulled you to him and the rest was...history. Passionate history, but you loved it - him - nonetheless.

Of course, no one could know. Besides Steve and Connie, but they could be trusted unlike everyone else, so only the lot of you knew your dirty little secret. One day, Javi always promised, one he'd tell the world you were his girl, but not right now. Soon.

It was always soon. You hoped it would come sooner rather than later, but you didn't mind - Javier was worth the wait.

He let out a heavy sigh as he downed the rest of his champagne, quickly finishing off the sticky, sweet over-hyped bane of his existence. It was Christmas Eve for fuck's sake, he should be home with you, getting lost in your touch, your taste, everything. Not dealing with this bullshit.

Almost as if one cue, you looked over and met his eyes, shooting him a quick wink, almost as if to say - soon, soon, soon.

Soon.

Another hour or two before you could both leave separately and then meet outside before going back to his place.

He gave you a soft nod before zoning back to his own conversation. Being the protective not so secret- secret boyfriend he was, his attention went back to you every few seconds. Luckily, it didn't take much to be a part of his current conversation, only having to provide a soft yes or no or nod of the head once in a while.

Meanwhile, you were the star of the show, going from person to person as you made small talk with everyone. It was already starting to wear on you, but the champagne buzz was a delicious sweet thing that kept you going.

As you finished off your rounds, ready to run back to Javi, a particularly boisterous member of the FBI found you. He was always a little louder, a little more brash than the others, but for the most part he usually left you alone, which was fine by you. Except today.

Put a few drinks in him and he was a walking, talking disaster and you were the object of this desire.

You cursed yourself for wearing this damned dress and not opting for something more subtle. But you loved it and had wanted to surprise Javi with it and his expression when he had first laid eyes on you was worth it. He'd been dumbfounded, immediately stopping in the middle of a sentence as he drank you in, before that little smirk crossed his features. The devil gives and the devil takes, you supposed - except right now.

Shit. When had he put his hand on your back? His hand that seemed to be sliding lower and lower and then -

"You better watch where you put your fucking hands," Javi's voice was low and dangerous, akin to a predator ready to talk down his prey as he was instantaneously at your side, “or I’ll break every bone in your body.”

The man’s eyes widened as he took one look at the livid expression on Javier’s face, his eyes dark and primal as his chest heaved with anger. He removed his hands from you and held them up in defense, “hey buddy, we were just talking. Nothing happened.”

“Just talking, huh?” his arm snaked around your waist as he pulled you into his side and narrowed his eyes, “I know you - I know all about you. If I ever see you do the same to anyone else - I’ll ruin you, I’ll ruin your entire fucking life. Now get out of here and never come near my girl again.”

The man’s eyes widened in horror as all he could was nod before rushing away and quickly exiting the party. He garnered a few looks that eventually led back to you and Javier, but he didn’t bother to remove himself from you. He didn’t care anymore, if they found out about the two of they - fuck it- they found out. They weren’t really going to break up the three of you, not when you were this close, not when things were going well.

“You okay, dulzura?” Javier turned to you with a concerned expression on his face, his hands find your face to look your eyes. You put your hands on his wrists and nodded, letting out a heavy sigh, “he didn’t do anything else?”

“I’m okay,” you promised softly, “you came just in time, mi amor. Thank you.”

He let a soft sigh of thankful relief before gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. It was then that you noticed a few people around offering up curious expressions. Javi seemed to be able to read your mind as he shook his head, reaching down and grabbing your hand before lacing your fingers together, “it doesn’t matter, they can all know. I don’t care - I only care about you.”

“Yeah?” you asked as you looked at your entwined hands. He chuckled before giving you that dopey smile that you adored - the one that made his soft eyes crinkle in the corners, “I like that.”

“I like you,” he insisted, “now let’s get out of here.”

“Yes, please, nothing sounds better,” you agreed as he started to lead you away, “besides I have a surprise for you to see.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, dulzura,” he practically groaned at the thought, “have some mercy.”

“I suppose,” you whispered in his ear as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I love you, Javi.”

“I love you too, dulzura,” he grinned, “and now everyone else knows too.”

“About time!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #javier pena #javier pena x you

[bokettochild]

Hmmm if you need ideas I always love cultural difference shenanigans so maybe Twilight and Hyrule or Warriors and Hyrule having jarringly different cultures?

I didn't really touch on cultures much, since I'm still learning a lot about the games in general, but here's three boys discussing the educational systems of their respective provinces!

(Asks are open still, if anyone wants a story, feel free to request it! I will try my best! (Crossovers aren't off the table, but I can't promise I'll write them))

From Ordon to Catalia

“So, you’re telling me,” Warriors states disbelievingly. “That you, the Hero of Hyrule, couldn’t even speak Hylian until mere months before you saved the kingdom?”

The traveler nods, a faint flush dusting over his browned cheeks at Warriors’ question.

Twilight shakes his head, a smile on his face. “Who’da thunk it? Chin up traveler, I didn’t even live in Hyrule when I saved it.”

“What?” Warriors turns to him, royal blue flickering with disbelief as he stares from one country hero to the other. “Seriously? Both of you?”

“Well,” Hyrule tugs at one of his curls, eyes glistening with mischief as he speaks. “I mean, Legend saved like, four other countries, and he wasn’t from any of them.”

“But the first country he saved was Hyrule.” Warriors asserts. “And at least he was sent to the other places or something, unlike you two.” The captain stares from one to the other. “Traveling through the kingdom and just happening to run into the Royal Nursemaid?” He turns to Twilight, disbelief still written clear on his face. “And chasing monsters, if I recall correctly. What the heck, guys?”

He can’t help but take a bit of pity on Warriors, the captain has only ever been outside of his Hyrule’s main areas when time traveling, and the poor man clearly has little to no familiarity with the provinces and kingdoms beyond his own home, save for whatever rich and stuffy nobles talk about when royalty from the other kingdoms comes to visit. But even so, Wars lacks the faintest clue of the world outside of Hyrule’s borders, and that's just a little bit sad.

He leans back on the bed that he and Hyrule are sharing, it’s been a few weeks since they were last at an inn and he fully intends on enjoying the plush beds while they can, even if it is a bit too soft for his own comfort. “We could tell you more about them, if you like?”

At his side, Hyrule nods, smile bright if not a bit wistful. “I’m always willing to share about my home.”

Warriors hesitates, caught between disbelief and curiosity.

“I don’t think even Legend has been to Catalia.” Hyrule muses, but Twilight sees the sparkle in Hyrule’s eyes, he’s tempting the captain in a way the both of them know is sure to work.

“That so?” Warriors muses. “Well, I suppose so. Although,” He turns a cynical eye to Twilight. “I’m not sure how much I actually want to know about farm life.”

“Your loss, city boy.” He scoffs in response, a wolfish smile pulling at his features.

It’s nice, he thinks as he leans back further, letting Hyrule pull his thoughts together and Warriors shake off the surprise of their previous words, to just sit and talk with his brothers. Time and Legend have roomed with Wild so he doesn’t have to worry about the Cub making trouble without him there to watch him, and for the first time in a long tie he can just sit down and talk with his other brothers. He doesn’t know why Time let Four assign rooms like this, but he isn’t complaining if the others aren’t.

“Well, what would you like to hear about?”

Warriors frowns, staring at Hyrule for a moment as the Traveler flushes darker under his curls. Maybe the healer wasn’t as ready to talk as he first thought. “How about, your family, what sort of people are they?”

Hyrule stares at the captain disbelievingly for a moment. “You’ve met my mom, remember? And I don’t really remember much of my dad, he went missing when I was a kid.”

“Oh,” Warriors flushes, a strained smile taking over his features. “Right.”

Hyrule giggles softly. “I’m not mad, Cap, just surprised that you forgot. Although to be fair, not many people probably think about it since I look like a Hylian.”

“Yeah, about that, how does that work?”

“Hylian father, I look more like him in this form. We may be from Catalia, but he was there entirely because he was fleeing the destruction of Hyrule. He met my mom in the Aver Forests, where she’d been wandering for the last few years. Great fairies can leave their pools if they so choose, but they do so rarely. Unfortunately, mom had too because of the increase of monsters in Hyrule.”

“What is the Aver Forest?”

“The biggest, lushest forest in all of Catalia!” Hyrule spread his arms wide as if to indicate how big it truly was. “I’m pretty sure it’s just the other side of the lost woods in my time, since it’s so close to the border. It nothing like Hyrule, but it is, was, home.”

“So, did yer ma follow you to Hyrule?”

“Not exactly.” The traveler replies with a small frown. “She came after Hyrule was made safer again. I can’t exactly leave the country freely anymore, so she came to see me. It’s a good thing too, since getting potions is far more difficult than just bathing in her pool.”

“Are potions really that expensive in your time?” Warriors asks, concern flecking his gentle gaze.

“It’s not about the price,” Hyrule frowns. “It’s more that most people don’t know how to brew them, and finding a person who can is difficult.”

“Ah, supply and demand.”

“Pardon, what?” The traveler looks up to the captain in confusion.

“Supply and demand, you know,” Wars states like it’s common knowledge. “When lots of people want something but only a few people can provide it? It’s the reason shops can get away with charging so much for things.”

Both country heroes stare at him.

“Have neither of you ever heard of it?” The captain blinks at them, leaning forwards on his bed. “How is that possible?”

“Not all provinces have a school, Wars.” He replies, chuckling softly at the surprise on Warriors’ face. “For farming communities we focus on animals and plants, don’t need no fancy education to plow a field.”

Hyrule stares between the two of them. “Alright, this might be a Hylian word I haven’t learned yet, but what is a scewl?”

“A what?” Warriors echoes, turning to face the traveler.

“A scewl?”

“A school?” Twilight translates, brow furrowed until the Hero of Hyrule nods in confirmation, after which he relaxes again. “It's a place people go to learn to read and write, and to count and do equations.”

“And here I thought there weren’t any in Ordon?” Warriors teases lightly.

“Get off it, Cap’. We don’t have schools, but we do have books, I know how to read and if I can learn more than I will.”

“Ah, self-taught?”

“Mostly.” He shrugs. “Hylian’s real different from Ordon-Standard, even if they’re essentially the same.”

“That makes no sense.” The captain deadpans, staring at him blankly.

“I mean, even though they have a lot in common, the way people speak and pronounce things, the vernacular and what not, is quite different that Hyrule proper.”

Hyrule blinks at the two of them owlishly. “What are equations?”

A glance is shared between them. “Math.” Warriors answers. “You know, adding, subtraction, multiplication and division?”

The traveler raises a brow, but he's shrinking in on himself in the way he does when he gets nervous. “What are those? Multipulycation and division?”

Warriors stares cautiously at the traveler, gaze gentle but concerned. “Hyrule, do you not know how to do math?”

“Do you know how to count?” Twilight tries instead.

“Of course!”

“Can you combine numbers?”

“That’s counting, but with bigger numbers.”

“Can you subtract it again?”

“Yes.” Hyrule answers slowly.

“Can you multiply?”

The traveler stares at Warriors nervously. “I just told you I don’t know what that is.”

The captain, bless his heart, looks genuinely hurt. “Good grief, what sort of mentor is Legend? Not making sure you know basic multiplication?”

And Hyrule flushes, but his brows furrow as he pushes himself straight, always defensive of his mentor. “He didn’t know, and he’s a great mentor! He’s been showing me how to grow trees!”

“Legend knows forestry?” The captain starts.

“He has an orchard.” Twilight reminds him, light laughter bubbling in his chest at the understanding that crosses Warriors’ face at the words.

“Right.” The captain turns to Hyrule. “How about this, Legend can teach whatever it is he teaches you, but when he’s done with that for the day, you come find me? Math is a wonderful thing, even if it is a tad complex, and it'd be a shame to let you go without knowing it.”

Betrayal makes itself known as Twilight pulls away from the two. “You like math?”

Horror blooms on Warriors’ delicate features. “You don’t?”

“Arithmetic is the bane of my existence and if I didn’t need to know how to count rupees, I would willingly forget it.” Twilight spits out.

“It’s wonderful!” Warriors defends. “Everything makes sense and has a logical explanation! You can count on it having an answer every time.”

One dark brow raises as midnight blue stare back at the captain, unimpressed. “Except when it doesn’t. Except when you have to graph equations but you can’t because they don’t have answers. Except when there’s two missing numbers and nothing fits in together, except when the numbers decide to become letters and you have to spit up the alphabet along with your equations.”

“How much math do you know?” Warriors raises a brow.

“Too much.” He isn’t even ashamed of the shudder that makes his pelt tickle against his cheeks. “Wild is a literal genius at it, and I can’t even number how many time he's decided to use it to explain some hare-brained scheme. Trajectory and angles and-” He shivers again. “No thank you. It’s like he ate a math textbook and just keeps spitting it back up, every time he wants to do something dumb.”

The captain whistles lowly, royal blue eyes sparkling. “You mean he has theories and reasoning behind all that? Dang!”

The glare shot the captain’s way is nothing short of threatening. “Do not encourage him, or so help me, Wars. I can hardly contain him some days as is, he doesn’t need someone else egging him on.”

“Oh, trust me,” Gloved hands raise in a non-threatening motion. “I just want to pic his brain, maybe he can help me tutor the traveler here.”

And Twilight almost asks him not too, almost begs that the captain not, before realization hits. “You know, that is actually a good idea.” He smirks. “I’m surprised.”

The deadpan look he receives is well worth it. “You wound me.”

“Were your skin not so delicate, I wouldn’t.” He returns, smile stretching wider. “But that aside, if Wild is busy tutoring Hyrule, he won’t be off blowing things up, and if Hyrule gets a better education out of it that's even better.”

“I’ll ask him about it.” Hyrule answers, eyes lighting up in a way that looks innocent, but considering the kid is Legend’s descendant there’s a very good chance that it isn’t fully. “Maybe he can teach me some tricks while he’s at it.”

“No!” The voices ring at once, but it’s already too late, Hyrule is tapping his chin and muttering low under his breath as a wide smile stretches over his face.

“What have you started.” Twilight whispers, horrified.

“I’m sorry.” Warriors returns, just as grim. “I won’t tell Legend if you don’t.”

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu hyrule #Hyrule never went to school #Twilight didn't either #they're smart but they haven't got education #wars likes math #twi hates math #math gives his protege excuses to go hogwild #wild is a genius of science and math #change my mind

[rosa-cerdae]

I'm bored right now, so I'm going to share a breeding project I'm working on

So, I recently joined the Dragonwish Foundation through a weird series of events and this is the second project I'm working on for them.

The goal dragon is a umber/gold/sunshine male imperial with metallic/constellation/glimmer and earth eyes.

The main challenge of this project stems from the fact I have to breed in all the genes because they're gem genes, which made the setup of this really hard and expensive, but it's been set up. I'm going to introduce each of the 4 starting pairs and talk about them a little

My first pair is Rhiada and Mimicat. Neither of them were of the right breed, but between them they had all the right genes and very close colors. Contrary to what the breeding card shows you, they actually didn't have umber in their range, but it was still pretty dang close and all of my other pairs have umber in their range, some even have umber guaranteed. They were the first pair I put on a nest, but while they were nesting I realized I should have scrolled them both as nocturnes to save sanity, so I was planning on discarding the entire clutch until

Loreen here popped out. She has all the right genes and is -2/3/0 off from the goal colors. She could even be parent material, but I want to try to take another generation to breed out Nocturnes so I don't have to deal with the pain of a baby with all the right colors and genes coming from the parents but it's a Nocturne. After Loreen was born, I ended up scrolling her into a nocturne (she was originally a snapper) and I sold Mimicat to someone in the DWF. In retrospect selling Mimicat probably wasn't the smartest idea but I still have Rhiada just in case and I'm sure they'll let me borrow Mimicat if I need too.

This is the second pair I have. This one is a bit more complicated. I have since scrolled Pasha into a Nocturne since making this but as you can see, we have a bigger color range. I'm ok with this, as they are the only other pair I have in my starting generation that have a chance for constellation. Myria is a stud, so I'll have limited breedings with her. I probably won't end up discarding most of the hatchlings from them unless they don't have constellation because of how important this pair is. The kid will be guaranteed to inherit Glimmer and I kinda need it to inherit Constellation, but I'm looser on it inheriting Metallic. It would be nice, but I have time to breed in Metallic in the next generation. If they give me nothing workable in the studdings I get, I have another dragon to replace Myria, Noa

Noa is lower quality then Myria, but I don't have much choice if nothing works out.

This pair is probably one of my roughest pairs in this project due their large color range and having only one gene I need for this project. Thinking about it now, I may swap Kaarija and Pasha, but for right now this is the pair. They need to pass on Glimmer and try to get decent colors, that's all I ask of them.

This is my last pair as of right now. Not an amazing color range either, but much better then Kaarija and Ardatha. They're my only pure imperial pair so breed isn't as big of a concern with them. I need them to pass Metallic and Glimmer. I would like them to maybe have a color past gold for secondary and a color before sunshine with the tertiary. I'll just have to see how that works out.

I hope eventually I'll be able to swap Ardatha out for a better dragon, but I don't even want to touch the AH for non Dom reasons right now, so I'll try again later. Ardatha being so far off from the goal is the bane of my existence right now, but oh well .

Yes the dragons I've named for this project are all named after Eurovision 2023 contestants. I like theming things, what can I say?

I will hopefully be providing updates as this project progresses and I hope you're all excited to follow along!

#dwf adventures #flight rising #breeding project #hell

[displacedentities]

Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings​ Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

#Coffee Shop Au #AHIT #A Hat In Time #doodledrawsthings #Snatcher #Hat Kid #Moonjumper #Clover #noticed a couple mistakes and it's too late to fix em wHOOPS #OH WELL