#i have two more to do and oof... my writing skills are so rusty

[threeletterslife]

Propinquity (Law of Seesaw)

→ [6/7] of the Glossary Series

→ summary: You first meet him on a seesaw. What a surprise, your relationship with him is exactly like that of a seesaw too—there are ceaseless ups and downs. So much so that you wonder when it’ll end. 

→ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 50% fluff, 33% angst, 17% crack | e2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, mean insults

→ wordcount: 9.2k

♫: Seesaw by BTS

You can't remember the last time you've gone a week without fighting.

There is always a new problem that arises. A new argument that is sparked from the depths of trivial problems. Then Yoongi stops talking to you for a day (or days if the fight is serious) and sleeps downstairs on the couch until he wants to crawl back to you and apologize. Other times, you're the one who has to drag yourself to your boyfriend's study with a plate of his favorite fruit and an apology in your head.

But it seems like the fighting never ends.

Now the bed feels cold. It is empty. Just like you.

You know that Yoongi's downstairs, either working with his new client (through the dead of the night) or already sleeping on the small couch. Though you're supposed to be mad at him, you worry. The couch isn't good for his already deteriorating posture. But you can't nag at him now. It'll result in more arguments.

When was the last time you and Yoongi didn't fight, though?

The correct answer is never.

From day one, you and Yoongi were destined enemies.

"Hi." You're a proud little child, standing up straight with your hands on your hips. A bit chubby and round in the middle but you flaunt the extra weight. "My mommy says I need to make friends before kindergarten starts."

"My mommy says not to talk to strangers." The young boy peeks at you through his shaggy black hair. He rocks the paint-nicked seesaw by himself, kicking his feet off the ground only to come back down with a light oof.

"I'm not a stranger," you scoff, crossing your hands over your chest. "Let me play on the seesaw!"

Yoongi doesn't even have time to answer because you're crawling up on the opposite side already. "H-Hey!" he yells but he's too late. The moment you innocently perch upon the seesaw, you’re slammed to the ground and Yoongi's lifted up high in the air.

Ah, the weight difference.

"GET ME OFF!" Yoongi screams. "GET ME OFF!!"

Your eyes turn wide. You hadn't meant to scare the boy. You thought everyone wanted to fly up in the air, and you were just granting the little boy's wish. In your head, you didn't even think of the possibility that Yoongi is afraid of heights. (Which was stupid of him to even try playing on the seesaw in the first place.)

"GET OFF!" Yoongi yells viciously at you. His face has turned a bright shade of pink and purple.

You think he looks like he's about to suffocate.

"I'M SORRY!" you shriek as you dive off the seesaw.

Yoongi lets out a high-pitched, ear-piercing scream as he subsequently flings off the seesaw. He lands on his butt several centimeters away from the rusty playground equipment and bursts out crying.

You gasp. Oh no. This was bad. Very, very bad. So you do the first thing that comes to your head: run away.

The boy's cries become louder and louder as you sprint in the opposite direction, but you grit your teeth and dash on. Eventually, your guilt for throwing off a boy from the playground seesaw dissipates when your mother buys you ice cream for lunch. Food is always the solution.

You have no idea that day you accidentally made a little boy cry was the day you met your future boyfriend. You just thought you met a crybaby coward.

And he thought he met the devil. If the devil was a chubby little girl with chipmunk cheeks and rolls on her arms.

You two had no idea you would meet again.

So far, the first day of kindergarten isn't going so great. All the other girls brought their barbies to class. You brought your stuffed animal snake—Mr. Slithers.

And now the other girls don't really like you. Because "snakes are icky!" Their words, not yours.

If they only knew this week was a rainforest theme in your head. Every day of the week, you would prepare to bring a new stuffed animal that lived in the rainforest. Today would be the green snake, then tomorrow, the tree frog and so on. But no one applauds your genius planning skills.

So you mope around for half of the day. The girls are playing princesses with their stupid barbies and they won't let you join because a snake cannot wear a ball gown.

You end up poking at the seesaw in the kindergarten playground. It's boring when there's no one else to sit on the other side. Mr. Slithers isn't heavy enough to seesaw with you either. You want your mommy.

"You!" a high-pitched voice shrieks.

Jumping, you whip your head around to see the little boy. No. The same little boy who you accidentally flung backward on the seesaw.

"Are you gonna throw me off the seesaw again?" he yells. For such a skinny little boy he has quite a loud voice.

"I didn't mean it!" you yell back.

"You need to apologize to me!"

"No!"

You run away again.

And just like a real big stupidhead, Yoongi tattletales on you to the kindergarten teacher, Mr. Kim. In your defense, you didn't even do anything to Yoongi at kindergarten, so Mr. Kim can't make you apologize to stupid Min Yoongi.

Mr. Kim agrees with your defense. But he doesn't approve of you using the word, stupid, so you have to apologize to Yoongi anyways. While you're positively livid, Yoongi is triumphant.

That is only the start of the rivalry.

In first grade, Yoongi calls you fat.

You aren't normally one to waste your time tattling to the adults, but Yoongi did it to you in kindergarten so it only feels right to get revenge. But apparently calling someone fat is much worse than calling someone stupid. Yoongi has to apologize to you and he has to sit in the time out corner. He also gets a call home so his parents are notified of his bad behavior.

In second grade, you start losing weight. Not because Yoongi called you fat. But because you figured you should start exercising to be as healthy as your gym rat parents. When you tell the second-grade class you want to become a football star and you've planned out your whole athletic pathway, Yoongi is the first one to rudely laugh at you. So you make sure to boo his presentation when he brags about writing a whole book by himself (it's called Dot Goes to School—pretty mediocre stuff). Both of you have your recess privileges taken away.

Staying in for recess with someone you absolutely despise is not worth the satisfaction you got from teasing them. So you and Yoongi become more discreet in your never-ending ways to spite each other.

In third grade, Yoongi calls you a stick during recess. He makes sure to say it loud enough so you can hear his insult but not as loud so the playground monitor doesn't hear. Sneaky brat. You turn to him with flashing eyes and tell him very upfrontly, "Says you."

The rivalry still exists in fourth grade, when both of you feel like you're too old to play on the playground. The seesaw incident is still ingrained in the backs of both of your heads, though. So even when you and Yoongi have your separate groups of friends, you still manage to be mean to each other.

For instance, the day before the annual fourth-grade square dance, you and your new group of friends spread a rumor that Yoongi has cooties. As a result, no one wants to be his partner the next day.

But then your partner, that brat, Park Jimin calls in sick on D-Day and so your plan backfires in your face. You dance with Yoongi. And now you have cooties too.

In fifth grade, girls are starting to talk about boys during recess. When the shy, cute Gayoung confesses her crush on Min Yoongi, you have to excuse yourself from the friend group. Instead, you go out on the fields to play soccer with the guys. Thankfully, cooties are 'for babies' in fifth grade, so you have free reign with the boys.

Park Jimin confesses he likes you in sixth grade. He tells you that you are pretty. But his confession was definitely not in your schedule. You're supposed to go to swim practice in five minutes. So you wave him off. Not because you hate him. But let's face it. The boy ditched you in fourth grade and you had to dance with Yoongi. Plus, now Jimin's Yoongi's friend. There is no way in hell you are going to butt noses with Yoongi's friend.

The whole grade goes in an uproar when they find out you rejected Jimin. You couldn't care less.

Seventh grade is weird. You finally get your period. And the new sex-ed class collectively makes everyone embarrassed. It also starts the influx of period jokes from yours truly, the boys. Whenever a girl is in a bad mood, the boys yell, "YOU MUST BE ON YOUR PERIOD!" You make note of every guy who says this. Then the second time they yell that to a poor girl, you hold up a tampon with ketchup on it. It shuts them up so well that all the girls in your grade start to carry around tampons and ketchup packets.

Surprisingly enough, Yoongi isn't part of the rowdy group of boys who make insulting period jokes. He's gotten much quieter over the years (middle school must've brought some sort of maturity on him), but he still finds ways to make your life miserable.

When there are rumors that Jimin will ask you out to the Halloween dance, you actually prepare to accept—maybe just to spite Yoongi. But turns out the whole rumor was a lie made up by the boy you despise. So you're rendered embarrassed.

In eighth grade, to your surprise, Gayoung asks Yoongi out. Of course, Yoongi would say yes. He knows you hate Gayoung. She had grown ample boobs and fit in with the popular girls who talked about boy bands and got dress-coded every day. You have no idea why such a popular girl would ask out a nerdy, rat-faced boy. But apparently, Yoongi is conventionally handsome. What a load of bullcrap.

It irks you even more when they become a revolutionary couple—the first time a girl has asked out a boy.

You make a bet with your friends that the couple won't last a week. Your wallet cries that year. You lose nearly ₩30,000.

By tenth grade, they are still dating.

You're starting to wonder if Yoongi somehow got his grubby hands on a love potion. There's just no way that whiny asshole can keep a girlfriend for that long. But according to your friend who is friends with the friends of the friends of Gayoung's friends, Yoongi is a good boyfriend. You want to gut yourself after hearing that.

Gayoung is always bragging about how Yoongi buys her flowers before class, and she makes sure everyone knows of this by posting pictures of the aromatic bouquets on Instagram. Yoongi often writes her little love poems and short stories, and though you're 100% sure Gayoung doesn't read them, she posts those online too. God, she is so annoying that you unfollow her. (You've blocked Yoongi's account a long time ago.)

For the most part, though, when hating Yoongi is not on your mind, your life is pretty normal. And you're definitely content. You and a sporty transfer student from America, Jungkook, have hit it off. It's fun taking him around everywhere to taste test all the convenience stores in Korea.

Until the day you catch Jimin and Gayoung lip-locking behind your favorite kimbap store. You and Jungkook look at each other with wide eyes. Before Jungkook can stop you, you snap a quick picture of the action and run away, tugging your friend along with you.

"Dude, you should delete that picture," Jungkook says for the billionth time.

"No can do," you tell him. "I'm sending it to Yoongi."

"To spite him?"

"Duh."

"Aren't you helping him by telling him his girlfriend is a cheater?" Jungkook challenges.

You squint. "You're actually right, Kook. Then I won't tell him."

"Isn't that a little bit too mean?"

"What??"

"I mean, they've been dating since eighth grade. It's been nearly two years, right?" Jungkook points out. "I think Yoongi deserves to know."

"Don't you dare!" you gasp.

"Sorry, Y/N," Jungkook shrugs. "It's just the right thing to do."

Two days later, Gayoung comes to school wearing not the school uniform but a short skirt and tight shirt. Her arm slings around Jimin, her apparent new boyfriend. Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

Rumor travels around fast. And they're all accurate for the most part.

But it's not very satisfying to see Yoongi missing from all the action. The whole school day, you wonder where the fuck the boy is. Maybe he's crying his guts out. You've never experienced heartbreak before, so you're not sure if you have the right to say Yoongi necessarily deserves it. You can say though, that he had it coming. After all, all those years he teased you, he hadn't felt a single bit of remorse.

Sucks for him.

It's dark by the time you begin to walk home from school. You'd stayed late to brush up on your horrible chemistry skills so you wouldn't completely fail the final test. On the walk back, you notice the familiar playground. You'd grown up with that thing. But it's been a while since you've cared enough to stare at it.

Usually, the rusty old playground is empty. But today, a figure sits in the shadows. More specifically on the seesaw.

It brings back memories. That had been the same seesaw that had started your rivalry with Min Yoongi. And someone's sitting on it.

You squint, your curiosity getting the better of you as you creep towards the figure. Oh god. Once you see the outline of the person, you know this isn't going to be a very fun experience. Ew, you think. Gross.

But that's until it occurs to you that the person is crying.

Holding your breath, you walk closer to the crying boy. He's shaking, hands covering his face. The other side of the seesaw is up in the air.

He's crying about Gayoung, you realize.

You breathe out. "Need someone to sit down to fling you out again?"

Yoongi jumps. He hiccups. Then he quickly wipes away the tears streaming down his face. "Shut up."

You grin, sitting down on the other side of the seesaw. And this time, neither of you fling off. It is completely balanced.

"What are you doing here?" Yoongi croaks when he realizes you're not going to be leaving any time soon. He sniffles, but for the most part, he hides the fact that he'd been crying very expertly.

"I dunno." You shrug. "What are you doing here?" When there's a pause, you add, "I didn't see you in school."

"Oh, didn't know you cared."

"I don't."

"Figured."

"Did you break up with Gayoung?"

Yoongi laughs scornfully. "No. She broke up with me."

"Yikes, really?"

"What is your deal, Y/N?" Yoongi sighs. "Are you going to laugh in my face? Tell me I deserve this?"

"Not anymore..." you grumble. "Because now there's no element of surprise."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "I reckon you spread the rumor?"

"...The rumor?"

"Yeah, the fucking rumor!" Yoongi shouts, throwing up his hands. "You're the one who told everyone Gayoung was cheating on me!"

"Woah, there! I didn't say anything about it!" you yell. "It's not my fault your ex decided to hook up with Jimin!"

"What??"

"Here! I have the fucking receipts!" You whip out your phone, aggressively swiping through your photos before landing on the exact one you were looking for. When you show Yoongi, his eyes turn wide but his posture deflates. He looks defeated.

"She actually cheated...?"

The way he says it with wide eyes and a slumped attitude makes you feel a tiny bit of pity. But the habit of being mean to Yoongi sticks.

"I'm not even surprised."

Yoongi glares at you.

"I mean," you say with an innocent shrug, "she's been eyeing other guys since you started dating her."

"I know..."

You are not about to show sympathy to Min Yoongi. You are not going to let down your guard. You are going to stay cold and emotionless—

"I'm... uh... I... er, I guess I'm sorry."

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow. "Why are you sorry?"

"Well, it just seemed like you really liked her—"

"Nah."

"Oh?"

"This is going to sound very stupid."

"Try me." You grin. "In my eyes, you always sound stupid. Remember? I got in trouble for calling you stupid in kindergarten."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "How could I forget?" He grips the seesaw handles. "I don't think I've ever really liked Gayoung."

"Damn, this is tea," you gasp. "Why bother dating her for so long, then?"

"Ha!" Yoongi laughs. "Good question, Y/N. I don't know," he says sarcastically. "I was probably trying to piss you off. Didn't think it'd last that long."

"Oh??" You raise your eyebrows. "But didn't I just see you cry over Gayoung?"

"Er—"

You definitely caught him in a lie. Though it's dark, you can imagine Yoongi flushing a bright shade of pink—he does that when he's guilty. Not that you cared enough to notice over the years.

"It's okay she's with Jimin now. Not your problem."

"Is this your half-assed attempt of trying to solace me?"

"No?" You make a face. "Why on earth would you think I'm trying to solace you, Yoongi? You called me fat in first grade."

"I see you still hold grudges."

"Oh, that's really my only talent," you snort.

"Aren't you a really good planner?"

"Me?" Is this a compliment you hear?—and from the Min Yoongi?

"Yeah, you're going to plan the graduation ceremony, right? They hand-picked you from the student council, didn't they?"

"Well, uh, yeah." You raise your eyebrows in both surprise and suspicion. "Didn't think you'd care."

"I don't."

Of course.

"Okay, fine by me."

"Why are you even here again?"

You pause. Actually, why are you here? You could've just simply walked away and never had this conversation with Yoongi. But you'd stopped. And now you're talking with him. You answer him truthfully. "I really have no idea."

Another pause.

"Are you gonna ask me to leave?"

"... No."

"Oh." You cock your head. "Okay."

The two of you stare at each other. A staring game commences.

But Yoongi blinks first, claiming you the victor of the little contest. "You can stay if you want."

You scoff. "Excuse me, I didn't know I needed your permission."

Yoongi throws his hands up in the air. "Do you always have to fucking pick a fight?"

"You're the one who starts them!"

"I didn't even say anything mildly rude."

Okay, he might kind of have a point. Maybe all those years of hating him have ingrained permanent hatred in your head, so whatever comes out of Yoongi's mouth seems like an insult that you have to respond to with equal rudeness by reflex.

"Where did we even go wrong?" you sigh, rubbing your forehead.

Yoongi snorts. "Literally right here. On this seesaw."

"You're right," you laugh. This is probably the first time you and Yoongi have agreed on something; it's a foreign feeling that doesn't quite settle right in your stomach.

"Remember when Jimin had a crush on you?"

"Oh stop—" Just one single sentence brings back so many memories.

"Now he's downgraded to girls like Gayoung," Yoongi snorts.

"Oh?" A wide smile stretches across your lips. "Are you saying I'm an upgrade compared to that vile girl?"

"When you put it that way, I'm not so sure."

In any other circumstance, you'd think Yoongi's attacking you again, putting up another unnecessary fight. But right now, it's obvious he's just teasing you.

"Let's face it, Yoongi. I'm better than your ex, aren't I?" you tease right back.

"Barely," he grumbles, but he mumbles under his breath, "but yes."

Thankfully, your owl ears pick up the last part and you grin haughtily. "That's all I needed to hear." Just by habit, you glance down at your watch, frowning when it reads a little past 10 p.m. You're definitely behind schedule right now. Strangely, though, it's kind of worth it, talking to your self-proclaimed nemesis without ripping each other apart with moderately hurtful words.

Yoongi takes notice of you checking the time. Always the same, he thinks. He can't remember the last time he saw you without a watch.

"Anyways... it's getting kind of late..." you say. But you're careful not to stand up from the seesaw—just in case you'll accidentally fling Yoongi off again.

Yoongi nods in agreement. "Yeah." But what he hears next is beyond what he would've ever thought would come out of your mouth next.

"Wanna get some cup ramen? I know a good convenience store nearby."

"With me??" The words slip out of Yoongi's mouth before he can maintain his stoic, chilled composure.

"Why not?" You shrug. "Maybe tonight's the night we can finally stop fighting and act civil for once."

"I am getting tired of the back and forth bickering," Yoongi admits. "Not a bad idea, Y/N."

"I come up with genius ideas once in a while." You flip your hair back and grin. "We just can't stay out before 12 because I need to plan my friend's birthday party before 1."

"I'll get you home by then."

"You're going to walk me home? How boyfriendly."

"It's a habit," Yoongi grumbles.

"A good habit. Keep it up, Min," you laugh. "Then you'll get a new girl in no time."

The two of you count to three before carefully getting off the seesaw together. There are no accidents this time. Everything seems... balanced.

The most what the fuck moment in your life comes when you wake up one morning and realize the person you text and hang out the most is, indeed, Yoongi. Months ago, the thought of him made your blood boil. Now, he's just a friend—a very close friend, too.

Entering eleventh grade with Yoongi by your side is weird. Every other school year, the two of you tried to stay away from each other as much as possible. Yet this year, it's the complete opposite. The two of you solace each other. Even if that involves heavy teasing and harsh verbal exchanges.

"You idiot!" Yoongi shrieks. "And you just let her get away with it?"

"Why yes, why yes I did!" you scream in your shrill voice that makes Yoongi almost flinch back. "What was I supposed to do? Yell at her and tell her I deserved to be class president and not her? Tell her to her face that she cheated the votes?"

"Yes?!"

"Well, I didn't have the guts!"

"Why do you always run away from your fucking problems?"

Yoongi's words pierce through your heart and suck up your anger, replacing it with regret. He’s right though. When something doesn't go the way you planned, you have a habit of ditching. You're afraid of the consequences that will follow when you freestyle everything. And Yoongi knows this.

"I-I... I just... It's easier," you sigh, slumping over your desk seat. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Fight back maybe?" Yoongi's tone is softer after he sees you become dispirited. "I mean, hey, you win some, you lose some."

"I know... I just feel like I'm always losing these days."

"It's okay," Yoongi says. His big hands awkwardly pat at your back. And as funny as it is that he's attempting to comfort you, you're actually well comforted. "Doesn't matter whether you win or lose. What matters is the experience."

"Wise words."

"Well, I'm a wise person." Yoongi gives you a shit-eating grin.

"Oh god."

Sometimes, Yoongi's the one who breaks down, though it's not as often as you do. But once the storm comes, it's hard to make it leave.

"Please don't talk to me right now."

"But Yoongi," you plead, knocking on the door to his room. "I had to practically beg your parents to let me in!" you whisper angrily. "Come on, open the damn door!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Do you want me to break the door down??"

Silence follows and a small click indicates that the locked door is now open. You carefully turn the knob and push. Yoongi faces you immediately and the way his eyes are red and his cheeks are wet is indicative of a beforehand hysterical crying session.

"Oh, Yoongi..."

"I said I don't want to talk about it," he mutters. But you know he's just saying that because talking about it will make him cry again. You know him too well.

You pull him into a hug. "Maybe music isn't for you," you say. "It's okay if you failed that path. There are many more to take."

He's silent, squeezing you tightly. But you don't mind the silence at all. It's more peaceful that way, and you know he's actually listening to you when he's not talking.

"You're good at writing aren't you?" you whisper, patting his back. "Maybe that's your path. And if it isn't, so what? Poke at every pathway until you find one that's just right for you."

It's advice for yourself as well. Yoongi's upset that he was rejected from a music audition he was preparing to pass for years; he knew he wanted to pursue music and he did it, though it might not have been very successful. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you want to do in the future.

"I guess we both have to start on new paths now, right?"

By twelfth grade, you and Yoongi are beginning to bicker like a married couple. At least, that's what Jungkook says.

"For the last time, we do not sound married!"

Jungkook rests his head on the palm of his hand. "Sure. Sure."

"The thought of even being romantically interested in Y/N gives me goosebumps," Yoongi snorts.

"But the good kind of goosebumps if you know what I'm talking about," Jungkook says. He wiggles his eyebrows in such a suggestive way that you mock vomit.

"Okay, gross," you groan. "The day I catch feelings for Yoongi is the day the whole world will end."

"Um, right back at you," Yoongi frowns. "Don't worry," he says, giving you a cocky grin. "I'm very repulsive. You'll never catch feelings for me."

"We'll see about that," Jungkook snickers.

Every year, Yoongi writes you a birthday letter. Even now, in college, he manages to find time to make the same effort he's made for the past two years. Every year, he somehow makes you cry with his elaborate words. And every year, Yoongi films it because he's a little shit.

This year though, the tone of the letter is much, much sweeter than you expected. Almost as if it's a love serenade and not a platonic letter to your best friend. The writing is elaborately flourished and fluffed up to the point it sounds like a love poem. And you swear Yoongi spritzed perfume on the envelope because the letter smells (shockingly) amazing. The message itself doesn't make you cry. Instead, after you finish reading it, you stare up at Yoongi's camera in shock, jaw dropped open but no words coming out of your mouth. Yoongi seems to like that reaction a lot, and he even zooms up on your dumbstruck face to make fun of it later.

He'd written ten things he loves about you. And it drove you crazy that you didn't know whether it was platonic or romantic.

Love, Yoongi. He'd signed the letter. Not the usual, From your bestest motherfucking greatest friend, Yoongi.

What the fuck did 'Love, Yoongi' even mean??

And it happens so that the two of you fight about it later on.

"This year's birthday video is the best one yet," Yoongi laughs as he tries to turn the camera around to show you the screen.

You jerk away, frowning. "That is not funny."

"Why? Didn't like my letter this year?" He's teasing you but you're annoyed.

"It was different."

"A good different?" Yoongi nudges your shoulder, a smug smirk plastered on his lips.

"Literally, please, stop. Before I wipe that smirk off your face."

"Okay, okay," Yoongi sighs, raising up his hands in defense. "I bet you're just salty you can't name ten things you love about me."

"You're right, right now, I can name zero things," you scoff.

"Liar. You wouldn't have stuck by my side for this long if you didn't love me."

The fact that he's right makes it more irritating.

"Fine. One. You're an asshole—"

"Come on, is that really a reason?" Yoongi laughs. "This isn't ten things you hate about me, you know."

"Hear me out. You're a certain species of asshole that I find slightly more bearable than any other asshole," you say. "I think you're a tolerable asshole. It's a compliment."

"Thanks?"

"Two. You're an idiot—"

"Is this how the rest of the reasons gonna go?" Yoongi scoffs incredulously. "My letter was heartfelt at least!"

"No, but you're a bearable idiot. The kind that irks your strings just enough to make you pissed but not enough to make you explode. No idiot is tolerable but at least once in a million years you give good advice." You shrug as Yoongi shakes his head in denial.

"I always give good advice."

You roll your eyes. "Three. You're not very good looking—"

"I shouldn't even have asked," Yoongi grumbles. "Why did I fucking bother?"

"No, but you're not ugly. Isn't that good news?" you giggle as Yoongi just shakes his head at you. "It's perfect! That way, you attract people with your personality and not your looks! It's a compliment," you add when Yoongi glares at you.

"Whatever," he says.

"Four!" you say triumphantly. "You are drama-free. Except with me. But I'm an exception because I'm special."

"You got that right," Yoongi mutters underneath his breath. "What about five?" Compared to a minute ago, he looks more interested in your list now.

"Five? Well, you're genuine," you say nodding your head. "You wouldn't let me walk around with an eyelash on my face or spinach stuck between my teeth."

"Yeah 'cause you'd embarrass me too because you'd be by my side," Yoongi protests.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that."

"Fine. Six?"

"Six... hm..." you hum. "You have pretty eyes."

Yoongi laughs out loud. "Thanks, I guess."

"Seven... let's see... hm..." You rub your chin thoughtfully. "Well, you put the toilet seat down for me."

"My mother didn't raise a hooligan."

"I actually agree with you on that one," you say, laughing. "For eight, I want to just say you're a good friend."

"You stole my number 8 on my letter to you!"

"Yoongi, you should just be glad I even repeated it back to you," you giggle. "Wanna hear nine before I forget?"

Your friend sighs but he nods.

"You're a very good writer. And I'm not just saying that to boost your already enormous ego or anything, but I genuinely think you can write," you say. "And I love that because then I get these good ass letters on special occasions. It's weird how you can choose each word so carefully that all of the meanings fit in this gigantic well-flowing story. And you'd think you'd use all these hard vocabulary words to throw me off, but your writing's easy to read and comprehend. It makes it more impactful." You quirk your brow at your friend who finally looks satisfied. "Is that enough?"

"Yes, now that's more like it!" Yoongi grins. "Butter up my ego a bit more, won't you?"

"Can't. I don't have a number ten for you." You shrug. "Sorry."

"C'mon, you can only think of nine reasons why you love me?" Yoongi leans into you, poking your cheek. "I thought of eleven but I had to take one off. This isn't very fair."

"Oh? What was the eleventh?"

"It was more of a joke so you don't need to know."

"Excuse me? I love jokes—even though I don't take them very well."

"Yeah, well, I especially don't want you to take this a bad way," Yoongi says.

"Was it something mean about me??"

"Kind of."

You frown, scrunching your nose. "Try me."

Yoongi shrugs. "Fine, then. I called you oblivious. Happy?"

You lean back from your friend, giving him a disgraceful look. "Me? Oblivious? First of all, no. And second of all, why would you love that about me?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you're so oblivious you can't even tell that I like you??"

One look at Yoongi and you can tell he's dead serious. "Woah," you breathe. You want to ask him to repeat what he just said to see if you heard him correctly the first time. But he's already looking a little impatient at your delayed answer. So you gape at him, muttering a soft, "Like? As in...?" You can't finish the sentence.

"As in love?" Yoongi finishes for you. "Sure."

"Bro..."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "I thought the letter made it obvious, Y/N."

"Well, I thought you were joking." You fidget with your hands. "Damn, Yoongi, now what the fuck am I supposed to say?"

"Do whatever you want with that information," he says, shrugging so nonchalantly that you wonder if this man even has feelings.

"Broo..."

"And if that means you're gonna keep saying 'bro,' then I guess that's fine too." He gives you a shit-eating grin.

"No, it's just that... wow. Since when??"

"Like, a year ago? Bit after Jungkook called us a married couple," Yoongi says. "But I'm so dead inside I hid it pretty fucking well. I kept thinking it'd go away too, but man, I still like you now, so I guess the feelings aren't going away anytime soon."

"But what are you proposing??" You run your hands through your hair. "That we go out??"

"Okay, you said it, not me."

You huff. It's weird. This dynamic you have with Yoongi. One moment you're bickering and the next, Yoongi's confessing his feelings for you. Strangely, though, you're not as turned off as you expected.

"One date."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. "One date?"

"You can buy me dinner, and if it goes horribly, we're going right back to friends," you bargain. "In the case that it goes well, then, uh, you tell me."

Yoongi laughs. "Oh, I'll be the one to tell you, all right."

And unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the way you look at it), he's right. Four days later, your relationship with Yoongi becomes official. It irks your strings that none of your friends are even the slightest bit surprised about your newfound romantic relationship with the man you'd known for way more than half of your life.

"We all saw it coming, Y/N," they tell you. "We're actually surprised you two didn't date sooner."

But Yoongi is actually a good boyfriend, so there are no regrets. Aside from the small bickering here and there (the married couple kind of arguing), your relationship with him is sound. And the fact that not much has changed in the way you treat each other since you began dating makes you wonder if you were technically in love with Yoongi this whole time but you were way too blinded by your stupid senses and habitual, platonic teasing that you didn't think you actually liked him romantically. It doesn't really matter now, though. Because you're with him anyway.

Yoongi's love language is quality time and coincidentally, so is yours. College becomes a blast. When you're not studying, you're with Yoongi and when you're not with Yoongi, you're 'studying,' but really thinking of your boyfriend.

Yoongi has a way of plaguing your mind. It's been like that since you were little, too.

Once out of college, things become more difficult. Marriage matures into a serious question that neither you nor Yoongi is ready for. So both of you put it off.

As soon as you secure a job as an event planner and Yoongi becomes a professional grant writer, the honeymoon phase of the relationship plummets to the ground.

For nearly eighteen years you were a victim of Yoongi's 'teasing.' His judgmental remarks. But there is a time and place to be a critique.

"Oh, come on, the food isn't even that bad, Yoongi. Just a little bland. That's it."

"There was a hair in my soup," your boyfriend complains. "I'm asking for another bowl."

"Okay, fine, but don't ask for the manager like last time."

"Last time, the waitress called me a tightwad!! What was I supposed to do?"

"Just let it slide? You yelled at her for bringing you bad food when she didn't even cook it! Can you please stop acting so above everybody?"

"Whatever." Yoongi sets down his silverware. "I'm gonna Uber home." He tosses you his credit card and it slides across the wooden table and stops right in front of your dish. "And I'm going to write a Yelp review of this shitty place."

"You're not a fucking entitled writer! Stop acting like one!" you call out to him as he turns his back to you and storms away.

You end up eating dinner at a restaurant by yourself. Yoongi's right, the place is shitty, and the food is bland, but it's not downright intolerable.

Often, these days, it feels like your relationship with Yoongi is spiraling downward. The two of you cannot seem to agree on anything. It reminds you when you'd hated him in your younger years. But you can't hate him now; you live with him.

He's unavoidable.

Usually, Yoongi drives. The car feels foreign to you only because you normally don't sit in the driver's seat. The short mixtape of songs Yoongi wrote and produced for you plays the moment you turn on the engine. He'd gifted that to you a few months ago, after one of your bigger fights. You let the soft serenades play as you drive home.

No matter how many times you and Yoongi fight, the two of you make it up to each other somehow. There is no fight without a resolution. Yoongi will be waiting for you when you get home.

And he is. He's waiting with a blueberry yogurt cake from Paris Baguette sitting on the kitchen island and a letter in his hand. A written apology. Because Yoongi thinks he conveys his feelings better in writing than with spoken words.

"I'm sorry for storming off..." he says almost shyly. The man is nearly twenty-five years old but he sounds and looks like a guilty child with his lips pulled out in a pout and his eyes glancing nervously at your face to see if you weren't going to yell at him. "I, uh... didn't write the Yelp review."

How can you stay mad at that?

"And I wrote you an apology..."

You walk closer to your boyfriend and hug him. "Thank you..."

"Yeah," he says. "And good news, the cake will be really flavorful compared to what you had for dinner."

You smile. "Good thinking."

After a storm, there is always a rainbow. When there is a down, there is an up. And vice versa.

"Can we please stop planning every single fucking second of our lives?" Yoongi says exasperatedly. He flings away the brochure you had handed him that detailed the week's trip to Hawaii down to the last minute. "We're going on vacation. This makes me feel like I'm going to a stupid summer camp."

"If we're going to Hawaii, we shouldn't just relax around in the hotel all day, Yoongi," you scoff, gathering the abandoned brochure and tugging it to your chest. "There's stuff to see on the islands. We need to try everything my friends did! Why would we even go to Hawaii if we're not going to do these fun activities?"

"Come on. 7 o'clock breakfast? 8 o'clock hiking up to the falls? 10 o'clock scuba diving in the ocean? 12 o'clock lunch at the top of a big ass hill that we have to climb up ourselves? 1 o'clock zip-lining meters in the air? 2 o'clock festival? I could go on, but isn't that too much? When can we breathe?" Yoongi shakes his head. "No way. And all of that's just in one day. And the second day is even worse. Y/N, I want to go there to rest."

"If you wanted to rest, then you can do it at home," you argue. "Why go to Hawaii to rest?"

"There are different types of resting," Yoongi sighs. "What's a better way to fall asleep than in front of the ocean? We get to relax in a hotel, which means we won't have to make our beds or cook our meals or even do the dishes. That's relaxing for me."

"Well, it's not relaxing enough for me."

"Come on, Y/N. We went to Banff and you planned every single second of the trip there. I thought it was miserable. Can we please relax just once? For literally one trip?"

"But I already booked everything..."

Yoongi curses. "Why are you always four steps ahead of everything? It's unnecessary!"

"Maybe I'm not four steps ahead and you're just four steps behind!"

"Oh, so you're telling me that everyone else in the world plans their days down to the last second." Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Bullshit, Y/N."

"It's not my fault you're so—so, fucking lazy!"

"I'm not lazy!" Yoongi's eyes flash as he slams the dinner table. "You're just too high maintenance! Fucking nobody can keep up with you!" Before you can react or even yell back, he pushes his chair away and stands up, stomping away in a fury. You can hear him enter his study. There's that familiar door slam again. And the click of the lock means you won't be getting in that room anytime soon.

You're left by yourself, clutching the Hawaii brochure to your chest. A little angry at yourself but a lot madder at your boyfriend. With a bitter scream, you toss the brochure in the trash and curl up in a ball at the side of the couch.

But the thing about you and Yoongi is that with time and space, you recognize each other's perspectives. The rest is history.

Three hours just crying out your pent-up anger gets the irritation out of your system. By the time you're done though, you're a little hungry and guilty. You make a few phone calls and switch things around.

"Hey." You knock on the door of Yoongi's study. You're too afraid to turn the knob yourself. "I know you're in there."

No answer.

"I canceled the excessive activities..." you whisper against the door. "We can plan the trip together... I mean, better yet, we don't even have to plan anything at all... We can be..."—it pains you to say but—"spontaneous."

"Go away. I'm trying to work."

Sometimes Yoongi takes a bit longer than you to come around.

But by dinnertime, he's crept out of his study and has already ordered takeout from your favorite restaurant. The steaming pile of white rice and perfect side dishes lie on the dinner table, waiting for you. He waits for you too.

"I got a new client," he says, looking down at his hands. "And I got your favorite food." You notice that he's holding the Hawaii brochure you'd thrown away. It's a little wet on the sides. Maybe because Yoongi had to wipe off the remnants of the leftovers in the trash that had stuck onto the paper. Your boyfriend finally looks up at you. Shyly. Almost cautiously. "Wanna compromise?"

"Compromise?"

"We plan half of the trip and wing the rest of it," he offers. Yoongi slides you the brochure. "See, so I was thinking..."

You've always hated roller coasters. They are almost always unpredictable with head-jerking twists and turns that bring you closer to vomiting the contents of your stomach rather than pure bliss. There are one too many ups and downs.

Yoongi likes to joke that your relationship with him is a roller coaster. Only because there are too many dips that rocket up to the sky only to plummet down again. You disagree. Because, eventually, no matter how shitty the ride is, roller coasters do end. Your relationship with Yoongi is not over.

You like to compare your relationship with Yoongi like the ocean waves. But during a tsunami. The ups are great; the towering waves give you a beautiful vantage point. And it's all fun and games until the waves crash down on everything you once loved, destroying them. And the process repeats so much that in the end, there is nothing left.

That's what you feel now. Empty.

Alone in the bed with Yoongi downstairs and nowhere to be seen near you.

After a while, even the highs of the relationship makes you feel numb. The lows wreck you past your breaking point. It takes more time to find resolutions—the fights go on for longer than days, even weeks.

When you were younger, fighting with Yoongi was irritating at most. Now, they leave you sobbing and drinking alone in the corner of the bathroom. But it's so late in the game.

You've known Yoongi for over eighteen years of your life, since kindergarten. You keep telling yourself that he's the only one in the world who could understand you; and you're the only one in the world who can understand him. But other than that, you can't find another reason why you're with him.

Sometimes, you listen back to the mixtape he made you years ago. The lyrics don't apply to you now. And this year, for your birthday, he half-assed a letter for you last-minutely because he was 'busy.' Busy drinking with his friends the night before. You've stopped planning your dates for months.

Actually, when was the last time you went on a date with him?

You can't recall.

Maybe the back and forth arguing you and Yoongi had gone through in the majority of your relationship was a sign—a bad sign. If only you hadn't met him on the seesaw that day. Then maybe none of this would've happened.

You might be dating someone you have things in common with. Maybe someone you don't argue with as much.

Falling asleep with tears in your eyes that keep the pillow wet until morning is an occurrence that you're too familiar with. It is an occurrence you want to stop. When Yoongi isn't downstairs by morning, you're thrown into further misery. He usually works from home... He must be really angry to leave without saying anything.

You eat breakfast by yourself. Lunch consists of ramen. And dinner... Yoongi's still not home so you skip the meal altogether.

By 9 p.m., you look at your phone. You don't want to be the first person to break—the first person to apologize—but you worry. Will he hang up on you? Tell you to go away? The possibilities seem endless.

So much thinking hurts your head. Some fresh air might do the trick. Before you know it, you're wandering around a familiar rusty playground again. It brings back childhood memories. When your hand trails across the paint-chipped monkey bars, you're brought back to when you were only six years old. The towering obstacle had looked so big when you were little. Now, you could easily cross the bars by simply walking.

It's strange to see the once-bustling playground be completely empty and in the dark. You hear that they're going to tear down this place to construct a little convenience store so no one must've visited this playground in a very long time. You'll miss it when it's gone. You had a lot of fun around here.

Just as that thought passes through your head, your eye catches sight of the seesaw.

Ah, the start of everything.

Slowly, you walk towards it. Each step makes your feet sink further in the smoothed over gravel but you manage to sit at the very edge of the seesaw. Immediately, the other side flings up in the air. It reminds you of when you flung Yoongi in the air. A pretty funny memory. But not right now. Thinking about Yoongi now hurts.

You hate it when you start to contemplate the worst-case scenario. A breakup. Moving out. Stress. Tears.

You run your fingers across the rusty handle of the seesaw. Hopefully, things don't come to that. But how much longer can you handle the arguments? They seem to be elongating as time passes. What if one day, the argument lasts a month? Several months? A year?

If there is one thing in your life that you strive to achieve, it's predictability. With Yoongi, there is none of that. He makes last-minute plans out of nowhere and doesn't tell you until the last second. Then you have to go on a frenzy to reschedule everything. It is a cycle that you've become sick of. And he's sick of you planning everything.

That has been the issue of the last ten fights.

The same issue.

And it's unfixable.

You and Yoongi are rock bottom on the very floor of the Mariana Trench. The back and forth game of banter has turned into something more serious, and it just isn't as light-hearted and funny anymore.

"Hey."

You nearly fall off the seesaw at the sound of Yoongi's voice. He's got his hands shoved in his pockets and he looks like he was awake for more than 24 hours.

"H-Hey," you say.

"The seesaw, huh?"

"Yeah." You nod. "The seesaw."

Yoongi smiles but it's not a very happy one. Even now, you don't think either one of you wants to apologize for the fight.

"I've been thinking," Yoongi sighs. He doesn't spare you another glance before he sits on the other side of the seesaw. You're suddenly jerked up in the air. There used to be a balance but it seems like Yoongi's gained some weight—or you've lost a lot. "Remember when I said our relationship is like a rollercoaster?"

"And I said I disagreed."

"Right." Yoongi sighs. "I take that back. We're not like a rollercoaster. We're in a game."

"A game?"

Yoongi gestures at the seesaw. "This is our game."

"...The seesaw?" You raise an eyebrow at the man but Yoongi doesn't budge.

"Yes. Look." Yoongi pushes off the gravel with his feet, putting himself in the air while sinking you to the ground. "And when you push..." Following his words, you launch yourself back in the air. Yoongi looks up at you as he sighs. "We're always on opposite sides, opposite places."

"Even when we try to balance," he continues, trying to lift his body to bring you down to the same level as him, "we fail." He ends up higher than you now and you look up at him.

"Some game this is..." you mutter.

"It's a game of ups and downs," Yoongi tells you. "It's tiring, isn't it?"

"Of course it is."

"And like all games... there is an end."

You raise both eyebrows. "Oh."

"From day one, you know... we weren't really supposed to get along," Yoongi says. "But somehow seeing each other every day, bickering with each other... all of that let us be in closer proximity with each other. And then we thought we were meant to be."

"You're analyzing our relationship?" you scoff.

"Don't act like you haven't done the same, Y/N."

You're silent.

"It doesn't matter whether we love each other at this point, Y/N... Does it? Love or not, I don't think I can live like this."

It's ridiculous. You're having a grown-up discussion possibly leading to a breakup on a fucking seesaw of all places.

"You want to separate?" Your voice comes out smaller than you expected. When it becomes a reality, it's much harder to digest.

"You've been thinking about it too, right?" Yoongi sighs. "I mean, I heard you call your mom the other day. And it didn't sound too good."

Guilty. "Well, yeah, I've been thinking about it... Just... I just didn't think it'd become a reality so soon." And you always thought you would have initiated the breakup, not the other way around.

"Yeah... I felt bad you always took initiative with things so I decided to save you the stress and do it myself."

"Wow. Thanks." You shake your head. "Real thoughtful."

"Right?" Yoongi grins. "I don't think a lot will change if we break up. We've always hated each other a little."

You let out a wry laugh. "I'll never forgive you for calling me fat."

"And I'll never forgive you for calling me stupid."

"Looks like we're even."

"Yeah, for once." Yoongi shrugs. "I guess we can be platonic roommates until I find another apartment."

"Sounds good to me." You ignore the tears welling up in your eyes as you try to smile. "Let's get off this seesaw to seal the deal then."

"The end of the game." Yoongi's voice shakes just enough for you to know he's crying.

And as the two of you walk back to your shared apartment with tears streaming down your faces, you realize you wouldn't have it any other way. A breakup any later would be regretful—even wasteful of time. A breakup any earlier would've left you to separate forever. A breakup now is perfect.

You're acquainted enough to still possibly be friends. But not bound by marriage to make the procedure worse and more complicated.

Of course, you love Yoongi. But sometimes, you love the wrong people—the people you don't belong with, the people who won't make you happy. You're just glad you didn't run away in the beginning. Yoongi taught you a difficult rivalry, a difficult friendship, a difficult relationship. But you don't always have to go the hard way.

When a relationship becomes like a game—repetitive with the addition of wins and losses—that's when you know you can stop.

You'll be on the easy route now and find someone who is as crazy about planning as you.

You look up at Yoongi. His cheeks are wet with tears but he doesn't necessarily look sad. Instead, he looks hopeful. Like he'll find somebody who can appreciate his love for leaving sarcastic Yelp reviews or somebody who loves spontaneity as much as he does.

And when he finds that special somebody, you'll be happy for Yoongi. But, of course, not before you tease the living shit out of him first.

—masterpost

—masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #propinquity #okay let's pretend i totally posted this fic last friday #like halfway thru this week #i remembered i never posted on friday omg clown #🤡🤡 i don't even think i've been on social media #school rlly said no❤️

[powertothefan]

Coffee

A Stanford Pines x Original Character Fic

Hazel DeForest belongs to @evaroze

Stanford Pines is property of  Alex Hirsch

This was something tossed together after discovering the adorable OC known as Hazel, she’s so cute and I love the design of her~ So, I did a little dabble of when both her and Stanford were in college and their first official conversation. I hope I wrote her write, as I have been a little rusty in my writing, Far too long since I posted something here that was worth the read. Anyway, please share any thoughts or feelings you have as long as it’s constructive. 

Hazel was wandering the commons of the college that morning, a little on the early side. She left the door early that morning to do some research at the library for one of her papers. Just because Backupsmore wasn’t her first college pick didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to put in the effort! She wasn’t as dressed up as she usually would be, just a simple blouse and shorts. She had pulled on a pair of flats as well before herring her hair up in a big ponytail and tossing on her bright pink glasses. With her messenger bag full of notebooks and pens, she was ready to go anywhere

Glancing to her watch, Hazel checked the time. Her first class of the day wasn’t until mid morning, so she’d have plenty of time to get some work done before classes that day. Most of her dorm mates were sleeping in from yet another party. She honestly couldn’t believe it. Just because they were at Backupsmore University didn’t mean they could party the semester away. Who did that anyway? Not her! No, definitely not. 

Hazel was terrible with social interaction. In truth, she would have probably never gained any friends unless they proactively were the ones to speak with her first. She knew a few other people, mostly from those forced social circles they did as an ice breaker during the first weeks in the dorms. Otherwise, her friend group was very, very small. She was fine with that though, most of the people she did know the names of were not people she would actively spend time with. They drank and partied and blew off their classes as if they could afford to do it. Hazel didn’t have that luxury. Every penny counted! Still, a very itty bitty part of her wished that she didn’t have such terrible social anxiety. 

It would have made trying to introduce herself to a certain someone easier. 

Huffing to herself, she let her thoughts pass on as she got to the library door. Stepping inside, it was calm and quiet. It was a massive place too. For a second choice college, it had an outstanding collection of literature. Likely because they didn’t have much of a sports team to spend money on. Either way, the ability to have such a vast collection of books at her disposal made her studies all the easier. Especially with her focus on mythology. She never would run out of resource material for her papers. 

As she walked further into the library, she realized that it was very empty. In fact, there was really no one around at all, save for the librarian. Then again, it was a Monday. No one ever got up before classes on Monday, unless they were someone like her and super focused on their studies. It was all the better really, she’d have the whole place to herself. Wandering further into the library, she hurried to the folklore and mythology section. It was her element, her one true oasis. No one and nothing could take it away from her-

“Oof!” Hazel sounded as she smacked right into something. She hadn’t been looking where she was going, instead skilling the shelves as she walked past them. Just as she was stepping back out into the open areas beyond the shelves, she collided with someone, and hard. Books were flying, paper scattered by the ceiling fans, and the two moving forces pushed off the courses and onto the thin and worn carpet. Laying there, Hazel had to take a moment to breath, that impact hurt! Carefully, she groaned while sitting up, rubbing her side where he was sure she was charged into an elbow. 

“Oh, gosh. I”m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going!” A deep voice said, A shadow overcoming her as a hand was offered up. “I was carrying too many books, and couldn't see a thing. I shouldn’t have assumed I was the only one here.”

The tone was upset, clearly more so at themselves than her. There was some obvious disappointment in their own carelessness. However, it was also very familiar...too familiar. 

Not really thinking as she grabbed the hand, she was dizzy and shaken still, she was easily pulled right back up to her feet. With the bright ceiling lights no longer glaring down right into her eyes, Hazel could focus on the man who helped her up. As she locked her gaze on their face, about to give them a stern talking to for being so reckless in such a sacred place, her throat swelled and her heart stopped. 

Stanford Pines... It was like an arrow to the heart, struck by a cupid with a sniper rifle. So accurate that it fried her brain. Stanford Pines was everything Hazel had ever wanted since high school! Originally, he was supposed to get a scholarship of some kind and head off to some amazing college. Instead, he ended up going to her only affordable pick. She had wanted to try and be good and say hello. He had been her obsession throughout all of high school after all, not that he even knew she existed back then...Hazel never had the heart to speak. Now, as an adult, and independent, she had told herself she’d try.

And boy, did she try. 

They had gotten classes together, unknowingly of course because she hadn’t realized that he had any interest in the fields of mythology or folklore. They were English heavy studies after all, not the wonderful sciences that he seemed to be skilled in. Part of her knew that he was aware that she existed, he often waved at her with that handsome smile. However, every time that she saw him, with that grin and cute sweater vest, the ability to talk was replaced with the need to nervously vomit. In all cases since the semester began, she flat out ran away before she could lose her lunch to her anxiety. Not exactly the best way to say hello. 

Now, here he was, his glasses skewed off a bit from the impact and his large hand wrapped firmly around her’s. Only a foot apart, both a little shaken from the impact but still breathing...or at least Ford was. Hazel couldn’t get her body to continue their usually automatic functions. As Ford seemed to get himself resettled by fixing his glasses, Hazel felt herself just melt at his touch. They were rough, but not painful, Just worn from all his tinkering and building. They were so large too, and not just because of the extra finger which she had always found to be an adorable addition to an adorable man. 

Ford had really grown up, a lot more than she was prepared for. 

“Oh! It’s you!” He said suddenly, bringing hazel back down from the second hand high of his existence. Breathing in suddenly, she blinked, her mind rushing forward to catch up to the conversation. “M-Me?” She weakly said, her voice still a little breathless from the lack of air in her lungs. 

Stanford turned a slight shade of pink, giving a nervous smile of sorts as he tried to correct himself. “I mean, I recognize you from the folklore seminar class. ‘Folklore and Its Effects on Modern Development.’ You..ah, You sit in the row behind mine.”

His tone had gotten a little meek, almost as if the man was becoming uncertain of himself as he addressed her. Why was he getting nervous? She was the one having an internal battle between heart and brain!

Wait.

He was talking to her...Stanford Pines was physically talking to her! He knew she existed! The man she had been obsessed with for years knew they were in the same class. Holy crap! She needed to speak, to say something, anything. For the love of god open your mouth Hazel DeForest! 

“Ah- RIGHT!” She said very loudly, her face going bright pink as her mind finally caught up to current events. “Rightrightrightrightrightright. I remember! You did the opening argument statement about how folklore was only lore until people could collect it! It lost the folklore touch when people found out it was all fact.” She blurted out, saying just about anything to show that she wasn’t a brainless zombie. 

“Ah, well, it's true! Once something is discovered to truly exist, it isn’t lore. It’s Science. That in turn means it can’t be categorized as lore but as a truly existing species. The professor was not really impressed with my reports for that debate session but he didn’t flunk my report either so I guess my point was valid enough!” Stanford said, seeming to pick his tone back up while in a subject he could work on. “Anyway, sorry for running you down. I was walking to my table with more books and...clearly got over zealous.” It was then that Ford looked around, causing Hazel to pause and do the same thing. Oh, they had made a bit of a mess...The books were scattered all over, some having flown far enough to land on top of the shelves! His notebook was crumpled nder a couple and the pages from it seemed to have scattered to the winds, still being carried off by the breezes of the fan. 

“H-here, I’ll help clean up.” Hazel said, pausing a moment as she then looked down at their hands, which were still tightly held together. Ford noticed this too, and quickly let go with a nervous chuckle before roughly clearing his throat. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll start over here.” 

The pair turned away from each other, Ford kneeling down to grab and gently fix the books near his feet. Hazel did the same, grabbing a couple and fixing the pages before gently setting them on a nearby table. She then also started to snatch up the flying papers, trying to keep them from wrinkling any further as they continued to flutter at her feet. It took a minute, but with the two of them collecting they were able to get it cleaned up easily. The last book was picked up by Hazel, her eyes a little dazed until she read the title. Instantly, she was back to her usual self for a second. 

“Ah, It’s here!” She said suddenly, causing ford to look up as he grabbed the last few books from their places on top of the selves. “Hmm? Something catch your eye?” “This book, I’ve been trying to get it for ages but every single time I get here it’s pulled off the shelves! I need it for my report on the correlations of folklore creatures and their real life potential counterparts. It has a segment on how folklore creatures and mythological monsters are created based on a person seeing something for the first time and using other animals to describe it! I wanted to read it for my paper and reference some of it’s points on how artistic interpretation cannot be trusted unless done while actually in front of the creature.” She rattled, her tone serious and smooth as her intellectual side kicked in, a finger moving up to adjust her glasses for a second. “Oh, You’re referencing it as well?” Ford asked, coming closer and putting the last of the books on the table. “I originally grabbed it because I’ve been trying to get it as well. Whoever has been hoarding it just got it back over the weekend. I’m using to further my argument that just because we depict creatures in a certain way does not diminish their potential existence. The author has a wonderful part about the statues of medusa actually and how they believe that medusa is a real being, but her hair was misinterpreted.” “I came here this morning to borrow it...Looks like you beat me.” Hazel said, suddenly feeling herself getting shy again. 

Damn it, Hazel. This was your first real conversation with Ford and you were going to blow it because you couldn’t keep the talk going! What was worse, she had gotten up for nothing. Ford got the book first. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t have the heart to try and ask him to let her borrow it first. So much for getting a head start on that report. 

“Do you wanna borrow it?” Ford asked suddenly. 

“What?” Hazel squaked, not prepared for that statement. 

“Well, I don’t have classes until mid-morning. That’s our Folklore course. If you don’t mind just using it this morning, you’re more than welcome to take whatever notes you need from it while I’m referencing other books. I technically already checked it out but if you need it now you can keep it until after classes. Then meet up later to give it back?” Ford asked, his tone strangely hopeful. 

Was he- Nooooo, naw he couldn’t be...maybe? 

“Um, well...I really do need the book for a few other things besides just the research. If it's not an issue I guess we could meet at the coffee shop off campus? The one with the big tables? It’s very dead in the afternoon on Mondays, so we could meet up after all our classes for the day and I’ll try to quickly get the notes I need before giving back the book. The library gets too busy later in the day anyway for me to focus.”

“Heh, yeah, I have to move my work back and forth from the dorm to here because the afternoon library people. However, I can get coffee later! I’ll need it anyway for my second wind of research. So coffee, after the day's classes?” 

“Yeah, coffee!” Hazel said, suddenly finding herself smiling as her cheeks turned a bright pink. 

Ford seemed to also, his own lopsided grin making Hazel’s heart flutter harshly in her chest. Stanford quickly stacked his books back up again, still grinning a little before carefully turning so he could see Hazel beyond the still massive stack of literature. “Alright then, I’ll get back to my work. I’ll see you for coffee.”

With that, Ford smiled again and headed off, hurrying back to his work table but making sure to take the time to check each eye before moving past. Hazel stood there, clutching the book to her chest as the gears in her head turned, trying to comprehend what just happened.Coffee, she was going to get coffee with Stanford Pines. A cute cafe~ Where people sat together close and chatted over lattes and teas. So, she didn’t actually drink coffee, as she preferred tea, but that didn’t matter! She was getting coffee with Stanford Pines!

Slowly, she took a few steps into a shelf area so that she wouldn’t risk being seen, before falling to her knees in giddy delight, covering her mouth to make sure her excited giggles and squeals did not echo throughout the whole place. Looking back to the book that she set down, she snatched it up again before darting out of the place with a high skip in her step. She had to get as much note taking done as she could, as she knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to focus on her work if she was sitting across from Stanford...But that was a problem for future Hazel, current Hazel had work to do!

#stanford pines #hazel deforest #Gravity Falls #GF AU #Original Characters #Original work #Fan Fiction #One Shot #Romance #First Meeting #Not my Characters #Coffee #Cute Couples #Ford x OC #Ford Pines #Stanford #Alternate Universe #Sweet #evaroze

[cyberflows-art]

Shoulder Devil

Oof! This sure took me a while! Not really because it’s long (although it kind of is, whoops!), but because I have terrible time management skills XD

I always plan what I’m going to say for this little introductions and then completely forget what I was supposed to say...

Well, this is my fic for the Joey Drew Studios AU at @ask-joeydrewstudios! I knew for quite some time that I wanted to do something for this AU because the characters are very well developed and consistent, the art is fantastic and it’s always a good time whenever I receive a notification telling me there’s a new post! I could spend a looong time telling you why I love this AU so much, but instead I’m just going to recommend checking it out! I wan’t sure whether to draw something, or write something, soooo I did both! Oh! I’m also going to put it over on AO3 and ffnet if that’s more your thing!

I really hope you like it!

Cough Don’t use or repost my drawing without my permission, please! Cough

It had been a very productive Friday in the studio. Most of the animators had managed to get ahead on their work, the voice actors had very smooth recording sessions and Joey found himself praising a lot of people when he checked on them. The ink spills where almost null, the projectors all in outstanding condition, the pipes hadn’t emitted any creaking noises or given any signs of damage. The toy department had just finished some new concepts for a limited edition line of toys that could boost their income quiet a bit. The studio was reveling in a contented mood, and the employees certainly appreciated the relaxed work environment, so different to the usual stress of having to meet an approaching deadline. But that productivity came at a price. 

A price called Sammy Lawrence.

Due to the presence of a certain prank loving toon, people who worked at Joey Drew Studios knew to have spare clothing at hand, even more so if you worked in the Music Department. But that usually meant just an extra shirt for the week. This day? Sammy had already had to change his shirt twice before lunch break. The first time was due to a bucket of ink being dumped on his head; the second because Henry just so happened to be passing through the same hallway as him with a bowl of (thankfully not boiling) soup, and Bendy just so happened to run by them and “accidentally” push Henry. The entirety of the contents of the bowl, of course, ended covering Sammy. From that point on, the positivity in the air was slain by Sammy’s irate aura and the employees instinctively stepped aside whenever he walked by. And now that he had finally been able to eat something and calm himself a little, he sat at his desk and grabbed a pen only to discover half of his stuff was coated in honey. He groaned in exasperation and cursed the substance while trying to detach the pen from his fingers.

Sammy didn’t know why the little brat suddenly decided to focus all of his attention on him, (this considering the music director was a favorite target), but he knew it needed to stop that instant. In fact, it should have stopped days ago. Since wednesday, Bendy had been making his working hours a living hell. It ranged from hiding random ingredients in his food, to messing with the lyrics in his incomplete songs, to hiding every single one his goddamn cigarettes in a different location each. The only reason he had managed to not fall behind was that he locked all of his important documents and work in the upper right drawer of his desk. He bet that the little devil would have turned them all into paper airplanes if he didn’t.

Grumbling, he stood up once again and started walking towards the nearest bathroom to wash his hands. Of course, it would be his luck that said bathroom was the one in the worst condition in the whole studio. The door, specifically, was a bother to open since there wasn’t enough space between it and the floor, making it drag noisily; not to mention the rusty hinges and knob people had tired of reminding Wally to oil. Maybe the fact that it was the bathroom closest to the music department had something to do with that. Sammy wouldn’t put it past the janitor to be petty like that. He would normally go the extra mile to go to a decent bathroom, but he had wasted enough time as it was, so he resigned himself and stepped in, careful not to close the damaged door all the way.

He got as far as rubbing the soap on his hands before the water stopped flowing from the tap. Frowning, Sammy tried opening and closing it, but quickly lost his patience and tried the other two. Nothing. Anger rapidly increasing, Sammy took a moment to count to ten, planning to calmly go to the bathroom in the floor above. But while he focused on counting, he failed to notice the rattling of the pipes in front of him. 5… 6… 7… 8… 9…  The sudden loud creaking finally caught his attention and alarms rang in his head when he saw all three sinks slightly shaking. He managed but one hasty step towards the door before the three taps were sent flying and three forceful water streams drenched him from head to toe. Sammy instinctively covered his face, desperately trying to maintain enough visibility to walk the short distance to the door. Unfortunately, with all the chaos he wasn’t able to notice the bar of soap that had landed on the floor, and thus couldn’t prevent stepping on it. He yelped when he felt himself tripping forward, barely being able to slam against the door with his shoulder rather than with his face.

A dull pain spread through his upper arm but nothing too serious. Sammy rubbed at it and stood up, his mind trying to process what had just happened. If he had had a moment to collect himself, rage and annoyance would have probably consumed him, but he heard something above the sound of the flowing water. Laughter. Really loud laughter. The door of the stall closest to the wall slowly swung open and hanging from the inside was the little devil himself. He obviously couldn’t hang there for much longer, shaking with laughter as he was, so he jumped to the only corner of the floor untouched by the water to continue from there.

“WOW, Sammy! I thought I had something great by breaking the sinks, but you made it even better with that soap bit!!!” he managed to say through his giggles. “You sure you don’t wanna be a toon? You’d make a great target for gags!”.

Sammy remained silent. He remained silent and looked at the mess around him, one of his eyes twitching. He remained silent because even if he was normally able to yell at Bendy for his pranks, he couldn’t believe the absolute stupidity of the whole situation. He remained silent because even if he would usually call the demon a little shit, he still had to remember he was a kid and at the moment he didn’t trust himself to not say something he could regret later. And the absolute least he needed that day was for Joey to visit him to berate him on his conduct. So he bit back the venom that threatened to escape from his mouth and limited himself to glaring at the demon as harshly as he could. Bendy’s laughter did wither under the look that Sammy was giving him (and the lack of an explosive reaction), but he kept a defiant attitude by crossing his arms and returning the stare with a smile. This only further irritated the music director, so he turned around to open the door, not wanting to see the smug brat’s little face anymore. He wasn’t used to repressing his anger, and since he was absolutely furious, he needed an outlet fast. Except… the doorknob wasn’t working. In fact, it felt pretty loose, probably detached from whatever internal mechanism was inside the door. He struggled with it, as if he could force it to work just by violently moving it, but he ended loosening it it to the point it came off. Sammy glared at it for a second before flinging it against the wall. He heard snorting behind him.

“What?” came Bendy’s voice. “Can’t even open a dooooor, Sammy?”

He then started blabbering about how Sammy needed to start lifting weights and eating more vitamins. Sammy sighed in frustration and turned towards Bendy to yell at him to undo whatever he did to the door so he could go tell Joey to ground the demon for the rest of eternity. He froze, however, when he saw the floor of the room. The flow of the water had considerably diminished, but it was still consistently adding more liquid to the floorboards. The growing puddle was silently creeping in Bendy’s direction, but the demon couldn’t be bothered to notice. For a split second, he toyed with the idea of just watching him notice and freak out about his crucial mistake. But a pang of guilt immediately hit him, knowing well that it would be the equivalent of letting a fire get close to a human. He was furious, but not even he was that cruel. Sighing, he sacrificed the one spot on his clothes that had been spared from the water attack to dry his hands. He crossed the distance between them, tuning out Bendy’s incessant rambling, and lift him up before the puddle could reach his shoes. Three seconds later, there wasn’t a dry spot on the floor.

“Hey!” Bendy exclaimed. “Put me down!! I don’t like bein’ carried around, ya hear me?! Let go!”

He then proceeded to poke Sammy’s head with his tail and trying to wiggle out of his hold. Sammy tightened his grip, afraid he might actually drop him and then held the demon to arms length in a way that wouldn’t allow Bendy enough movement to bite him (which he was known for).

“Okay, you little brat. You are going to look down for a single second and then I dare you to say that again to my face,” Sammy deadpanned.

“What, you think I wouldn’t?” Bendy crossed his arms. “Fine! I’ll look down and then I’ll tell you to your face to put me- Oh...”

“‘Oh’ is right.” Sammy glared at him as he stopped struggling to fall to his demise. “Now, if you could stop throwing a tantrum and fix the freaking door so we both can get the hell out of here, that would be great, wouldn’t it?”

“What?! I didn’t do anything to the door!!!”

“Oh, yeah? Then why won’t it open? Can you really not stop playing dumb even when you turned the floor into something you can’t so much as touch without melting?!” Sammy made him face the door, hoping that he would pull out a tool or something that would let them get out,

“Ugh! I told ya, I didn’t break the door! You’re the one that slammed his ugly face against it! Maybe that’s why it broke, huh?”

Bendy stuck his tounge at him and looked away with a huff.

“So what? We’re just trapped here now?!” Sammy looked at the demon incredulously. “Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted? Well, congratulations! I bet Joey will give you a trophy!”

Bendy scowled at him, but quickly looked away under Sammy’s scolding stare and resigned himself to pout in silence. This was doing nothing for Sammy’s mood. Now there was no way he wasn’t going to fall behind in his work. Besides, the water was already up to his ankles and the cold from being soaked was starting to get to him. His arms were also getting tired.

“Why am I even carrying you still?” he said more to himself. The little guy didn’t really deserved the effort after landing them in the situation they were in. He walked towards the stalls, hoping that he could set him down.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Bendy asked once he felt they were moving.

“I’m getting tired so I decided you are going to stand on one of the toilets,” he said matter of factly.

“WHAT? But… but toilets are filled with water!”

If Sammy didn’t fear he would drop him he would have smacked his own forehead with his hand.

“I’m not putting you inside the toilet, you moron! You’re gonna stand on top of the lid.”

“Ew! No way! Joey told me what goes in there and I’m NOT touching those things.” Bendy scrunched his face up in disgust and clung to Sammy’s hands, refusing to be put down. “And the water is rising so fast! What if it reached me if I was standing there? Oh no! What if it goes all the way up to the roof? What if nobody saves us?!”

Sammy rolled his eyes at the toon’s exaggeration. This wasn’t a worrying predicament, only an infuriatingly annoying one. At this point, he would even accept if Joey offered to teleport them out of there.

“Calm down, we are not going to drown,” Sammy told him. “The door isn’t fused to the floor. There’s gotta be some water leaking, and the moment somebody notices they’re going to-”

“WHAT THE HELL?”

Wally’s voice reached them right on cue. Bendy’s face lit up in an instant.

“Wally! Wally, we’re trapped! You gotta save us!” He yelled.

“Bendy? What-? How-? Oh, shoot! Are you ok? You aren’t like… half melted or something right?” Wally’s voice became a bit panicked with the possible implications of what he could find on the other side of the door. They could hear him frantically turning the useless knob.

“Thanks for the mental image, Franks…”

“Wait… Sammy?! How many people are in there?!”

“Oh no, just the two of us!” Bendy exclaimed happily, as if he hadn’t been freaking out just a few moments prior. “I’m using him as my personal island!”

“Uh, yeah, you keep doing that buddy…” Wally said. “How did this even happen?”

“Sammy broke the door!” Bendy immediately answered.

“Excuse me?! You’re the genius that thought exploding the sinks was a good idea!”

“He WHAT?” Sammy could tell by the distress in Wally’s voice that he knew who would have to deal with the mess. He would have found it amusing if his shoes weren’t completely submerged.

“Franks, my clothes are soaked and I am locked in here with a three foot tall nightmare incarnated. How about you get us out, and then you play detective?”

Sammy didn’t doubt the silence that followed was Wally trying to come up with a good comeback to not just accept an order from the music director, but in the end he had to acept this wasn’t a good time for that.

“Fine, fine,” he finally said. “You might want to step away from the door! I’ll get you out in a second!”

The door creaked when Wally pushed forcefully against it, but with no results, A groan of frustration was heard before repeated pounding against the wood, which the trapped pair could only guess was Wally either tackling the door or trying to kick it down. Bendy started cheering him on. After the fifth hit, one of the rusty screws of the upper hinge was sent flying while the other hinge got crooked and Sammy swore one of its sides got lodged into the wood frame. From that point on, nothing else even budged.

“... Maybe I won’t get you out in a second…”

“Wow, it’s almost like it’s important to do your job maintaining the building, huh?” Sammy said bitterly.

“Agh, shut up. Look, there’s an axe somewhere in the studio. Joey told me where it was, but I uh, kinda forgot where it is… I gotta go ask him.” Silence. ”Dammit. He’s not going to like this…”

“I would prefer it if you cut the water first. It’s almost up to my knees already.”

“Uh, right, right. First things first, and all that.”

“Hurry up, Wally! I don’t think Sammy has the strength to carry me for much longer!” Bendy called.

“Wha-? You little-!”

“Try not to shove Bendy into the water while I’m gone Sammy!”

Wally’s voice faded along with his hurried steps. Sammy’s shoulders sagged. Great. More waiting. He guessed he could try doing something productive. Maybe see if he could loosen the hinges. Oh wait! He couldn’t. He was carrying some dead weight. And as much as he hated to admit it, said dead weight was indeed putting a strain on his arms. He let himself lower them just a bit to get his blood circulating better, hoping that the demon wouldn’t notice. With his luck that week, of course he did.

“Uh, you did hear what Wally just told ya, right?” Bendy said glancing down and lifting his feet.

“Oh, sorry! It must be that I’m not strong enough to carry you. I could just drop you any minute now.”

Bendy pouted up at him. Sammy retaliated with a glare, but found that just looking at the demon reminded him of the terrible week he had had. He decided that he had enough of the staring contest soon after and looked around for, well, literally anything else he could do. He spotted the towel that was placed for people to dry their hands, which had miraculously been spared of the shower, and he got an idea for a solution for the tiredness of his arms. He crossed the room towards it and held Bendy in front of it.

“Grab it.”

“Huh?” Bendy gave him a confused look.

“Grab the towel.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Sammy lifted Bendy up so that they were looking eye to eye. “I despise carrying you as much as you despise being carried. So you are gonna take that towel, put it on my shoulder and sit there until we get out of here.”

“Why don’t you grab the towel if it’s your idea?” Bendy’s cocky demeanor started chipping away at Sammy’s last bit of patience, and he was desperately trying to remind himself he was supposed to be the adult. “Why do I gotta do all the work here, huh? How lazy of you! Are you sure you’re fit to be the director of anything?”

“Ok, that’s ENOUGH! Why are you being such a prick?! This whole situation was YOUR fault! Least you could do is cooperate with something as easy as this!”

Bendy flinched at the louder tone of voice, but he wasn’t deterred.

“‘Why are you being such a prick?’” he imitated in a high pitched voice, using his hand to simulate a mouth. However, he did grab the towel and threw it on Sammy’s shoulder, hitting him on the face (not so accidentally) during the fact. Making sure it was placed well enough that his wet shirt wouldn’t come in contact with the little toon, Sammy let him climb on his shoulder and he finally could put his darned arms down. His relief was short lived, though. Now he had a whining demon right besides his ear.

“That’s it,” he said not even paying attention to whatever Bendy was saying. “I’m quitting the moment we get out of this stupid bathroom…”

“Yeah? Well maybe you should,” Bendy suddenly muttered with a scowl. If he hadn’t been so close, Sammy may not have heard it. “That way you wouldn’t break Boris’ stuff.”

Sammy startled so forcefully he had to quickly hold Bendy in place so he wouldn’t fall.

“Break Boris’- What are you even talking about?” he asked frowning.

“Oh, just admit it!” Bendy turned so he was sitting sideways and could look at Sammy better, He poked his face in an accusing manner. “You broke Boris’ favorite banjo! You know how long he had been practicing a new song to show Joey? Like a month! You even know how long a month is? He had even prepared a mini stage in our apartment, and I was gonna do an opening act and Alice was going to be there too!” Bendy threw his arms in the air as if he could convey the grandiosity of their planned little show by waving them around. “It was going to be great, but then you went and ruined our good time! Boris has been so bummed out since Tuesday he won’t even play with me!”

Sammy was taken aback. Not only could he already feel the headache coming from all the yelling in his ear, but he also realized a very important thing. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Is that really why you have been insufferable all week? Because you think I’m the one who did that?”

“I know you did it! Joey said you are the one responsible of all music stuff, so obviously it had to be your fault! If you are innocent, why don’t ya prove it, huh? Oh right, because you can’t! You’re guilty!”

Sammy gave a big sigh, wondering if he was about to waste his breath.

“Tuesday? You mean this tuesday? The same tuesday I had to leave early?” He narrowed his eyes at Bendy and saw the devil’s confidence falter. “You know what happens on tuesdays? There’s a weekly maintenance of all the instruments. You know what else happens on tuesdays? The imbeciles that conduct those checkups often stay and organize a mini ‘act like an idiot’ party after the oh so hard work that task represents for them, even when repeatedly told not to. So more than likely, it was one of them that broke that banjo, and more than likely, if I find out who did it and made these days hell for me because of it, I’m gonna move heaven and earth to make Joey fire them! So there! I hope you are proud, because not only did you waste my time making me clean after your little ‘revenge pranks’ for hours and then make me lose hours of sleep to catch up on work, you also wasted your own time doing something completely worthless. I don’t think you even wanted to put the effort to find out who it was. I bet you just wanted it to be me, because for some goddamn reason you just want to make me quit. So congratulations! You might have just succeeded this time!”

Sammy took a deep breath once his rant was over and noticed at last how Bendy had gone really quite. He wasn’t looking at him and had his head hung low.

“So you really didn’t do it?” came Bendy’s meager question.

Sammy didn’t even dignify that with the obvious response. Instead, he focused on how the water flow from the sinks weakened until stopping altogether, Took Franks long enough. The silence that followed was tense, but Sammy greatly preferred it to having to deal with more tantrums from the toon on his shoulder. Sighing, he moved to the center of the room and settled for impatiently staring impatiently at the door. A chill went up Sammy’s spine, and he cursed his body’s inability to maintain a decent temperature. He would normally find it annoying, but with all that had happened and his head starting to pound, he had ran out of steam. He shifted his weight uncomfortably in place, his feet already feeling numb in his shoes. If he got sick and Joey didn’t give him some kind of compensation, he would make sure he never heard the end of it. Fortunately, he wasn’t needed the next day. Well, he was always needed since his department was filled with idiots, but they could usually handle by themselves whatever there was to do on the weekends, so he’d be able to rest until monday.

“Soooo,” Bendy’s voice broke the silence. It had been nice while it lasted. “Whatcha, uh, whatcha thinking about, Sammy?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering whether it’s worth it to write a formal resignation letter or just use the honey on my desk to paste a piece of paper that says ‘I quit’ to Joey’s office door.”

“O-oh…”

Bendy fidgeted in his place, refusing to look at him.

“W-well. You can’t do none of those!”

Sammy raised an eyebrow.

“Really now? And whose stopping me? Because it’s certainly not you.

“Because, uh, because…” Bendy frowned in concentration, before he snapped his fingers. “Because Boris would miss ya! Yeah! You wouldn’t make Boris sad on purpose, would ya?

Wait. Did Bendy actually think he was going to quit? Sammy threatened to quit almost daily. One would think that Bendy would know better. Nonetheless, Sammy decided to play along.

“Boris would miss anyone that worked here even if they had never talked with him. Maybe if I quit the experience will help him to get over it if it happens again, huh?”

Sammy was aware that sounded harsher than he meant it. Boris was one of the few people in the studio that he didn’t feel like yelling at all the time. But he couldn’t help but smirk when his answer had the desired effect. Bendy was trying to come up with another reason of why he shouldn’t quit. Was it immature of him? Absolutely! But he was standing in a flooded bathroom, clothes soaked, a literal little demon on his shoulder and no cigarettes at all. He figured he deserved to have some petty revenge.

“Uh, A-alice, then! Don’t you think it would be bad luck to upset an angel?”

“I already have to deal with a demon on a daily basis. I don’t think I have the luck of any angels on my side. Besides, I think it would only actually affect her if it was Susie who quit instead of me.”

“Wait, that’s it!” Bendy’s tail briefly formed the outline of a lightbulb. “Susie! You can’t leave her here all alone! That would make you the worst boyfriend in the world!”

Sammy huffed.

“We only spend time together on our break time, which we can still do even if I worked elsewhere.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Actually, she also does some extra work in some other places. Maybe she can recommend me to a boss that doesn’t practice black magic as a hobby.”

“Shoot,” Bendy said under his breath. “But- But you can’t leave because you are already Joey’s favorite director! What if you are not the favorite of your new boss, huh? Maybe he’ll hate you!”

“Oh? So I’m Joey’s favorite now?” Sammy asked in an intentionally bored but fake tone, crossing his arms.

“Yeah! He said that, ah, that you were the best music director in the history of forever! That you were better than Boteevan!”

“Beethoven.”

“That guy! And he said that, um, that he was considering giving you a raise! It’ll be such a raise that you will be on the top floor of the studio!”

Sammy… wasn’t sure Bendy understood what a raise was. But he shook it off.

“So, those were Joey’s exact words?”

Bendy nodded enthusiastically, his usual smile a bit strained and his cartoony eyes unable to hide the alarm he was feeling.

“So, if I were to go to Joey and ask him about it, he would tell me the exact same thing?”

Silence.

“...Yes… Maybe…”

Ok, Sammy had had his fun. Now Bendy’s nervousness and guilt about ‘causing’ him to quit was starting to become too obvious and the hand that he was using to keep himself stable was latching a bit too hard to Sammy’s shoulder. He didn’t want to cause the kid a meltdown (which got a very literal meaning with the toons when they were stressed). He was about to give in and tell him the truth when a loud cracking noise caught their attention. They both slowly looked at the door.

“What was that?” Bendy asked warily.

“I don’t know, but it sure didn’t sound like an axe to me.”

Sammy backed away slowly from the door until his back touched the wall opposite to it. They flinched when they heard the sound again, and a crack cut right through the middle of the door. Then again, and splinters were sent flying everywhere. Once more, and the door was split in two. Sammy instinctively grabbed Bendy to shield him from the raining debris that exploded as a result. All the remaining water gushed out into the hallway, but Sammy didn’t take notice, nor did Bendy. There was something far more important that had just appeared. Right in front of the destroyed door was an enormous mass of ink, so tall and wide that it wouldn’t have been able to fit through the doorway if it tried. It vaguely resembled the top half of a human, it’s hunched torso being its support on the floor. Hollowed eyes looked at them with a dead stare. Sammy didn’t even dare to breathe.

“What are you doing standing there? Move aside!” Joey’s order returned them to reality.

The ink monster immediately obeyed, granting the space needed for a very panicked looking Joey to run into the bathroom. His glasses were crooked on his face, he was breathing hard and he was clutching a book with such force that his hands were shaking. The instant he spotted Bendy in Sammy’s hands, his face flooded with relief. On Sammy’s part, he couldn’t take his eyes off the monstruosity that had just appeared before him, so still petrified in his place, he could only ask:

“What the hell is that?!”

“Oh, well Wally said the door was stuck, so I figured we would need a little help.” Joey answered, waving his hand dismisively. “More importantly, Bendy are you ok?!”

Sammy, realizing he was still holding Bendy as far away from the door as possible, cleared his throat and shoved him into Joey’s arms. He didn’t stay to see Joey smothering Bendy in a hug and checking him for any damage. Instead he headed towards his sweet freedom, giant monster outside or not. He still practically hugged the wall to not come close to that thing, though. He got out just in time to see Wally Franks arrive running and lean against the wall to catch his breath, muttering something about Joey being fast for his age. Sammy didn’t spare him a second before pointing to the ink creature and giving him an incredulous look.

“What about that looks like an axe to you, Franks?!” His voice was just a tad more high pitched than he would have liked, but he ignored it for the time being. Wally looked at him to respond, but couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you were drenched!”

Sammy’s death glare shut him up.

“R-right, uh, so I told Joey what happened and I thought he was going to yell at me and then tell me where the axe was, but he just got all pale and then he grabbed that book and started running while yelling some weird crap on another language. Next thing you know, big guy over there is growing out of the ground and following him down the stairs! It was crazy!” Wally scratched his head. “Umm, I also think someone fainted when it passed in front of them…”

Sammy let out a sigh and rubbed at his head. The pain that had been receding was now returning tenfold.

“Sammy!” Joey called out to him while he, too, exited the bathroom. “I’m glad everyone’s ok, of course, but I would like to know… how did that happen?” He pointed at the destroyed sinks.

Nope. He was NOT dealing with that right now.

“Oh, I’m sure little prankster there will tell you what he did with plenty of detail. I’m going home early.”

He glared at Joey, daring him to protest. But just looking at the state he was in, his boss nodded.

“Of course, you need to go get some dry clothes. And I’m guessing I won’t see you tomorrow?”

“You guess correctly,” Sammy said as he walked past his boss, not taking his eyes off the ink beast, just in case.

“See you on monday?”

At that Sammy stopped. That had been Bendy asking. He turned around to look at the demon in Joey’s arms, who was looking up at him with pleading eyes. Sammy remained silent for a moment. He guessed he could just ignore him, but he had punished him enough already.

“Yeah, yeah. See you on monday. Unfortunately.”

At that, Bendy visibly relaxed. Sammy rolled his eyes and kept walking.

Monday arrived way faster than Sammy would have liked, but then again, that was nothing new. What was new, however, was that he found his office exceptionally clean. He hadn’t bothered tidying things up before he left on friday, but now the honey was gone from his desk, and there didn’t seem to be a paper out of place or a speck of dust on any surface. A report of what had been done on saturday and a list of future tasks was already waiting for him, too.

But what caught his attention the most was a colorful piece of paper sitting on the middle of his desk. It was a drawing. It depicted him conducting a band, with random musical notes (some of which weren’t even real notes) forming an arch above his head. He stared at it for a long while,slowly processing the fact that this was most likely some sort of apology. He shook his head. He couldn’t waste more time on this. He had work to do. Sammy was going to just put it away into a random drawer, but looking at it again, he changed his mind. He put it in the upper right drawer instead.

#ask-joeydrewstudios #my art #my bendy art #my fanfics #my bendy fanfics #bendy and the ink machine #batim #sammy lawrence