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obeiii-mee · 3 years

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Hey! Sorry to bother you with a second ask but i thought this one would be cool. Fluffy headcanons of the demon brothers watching scary movies with MC??? Somewhere MC gets scared, and some where they don't? Thanks again!! :)

It’s no bother!! I love getting requests from you guys! The more, the merrier. I sort of hc that the brothers and MC do have movie night every week or so and with them being demons, they tend to levitate towards the horror genre. Thank you for sending this, this is really cute :)))

Without further ado—-

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The Brothers watching Scary movies with MC:

Lucifer:

-Haha mf already knows how this is going to end

-He warned you, he really did

-The horror movies DevilDom has to offer are nothing, and I mean nothing, like the ones from the human world

-I’m not going to go into detail but imagine Two Girls One Cup, in a less kinky and more gorey way (then times that by 10)

-But you were adamant into giving it a go and he literally could not deny you in that moment

-Because you were giving him the puppy eyes

-That’s like, the finishing blow you use every time to get your way with him and as far as you know it’s the only one that works so-

-He expected your reaction to the last second

-You were traumatised for lack of a better word and you were basically watching the whole film through the cracks between your fingers

-Seeing you in that state was like a punch in the gut but he couldn’t stop himself from throwing in a subtle ‘I told you so’

-“I told you watching something like this before bed is a bad idea, MC.”

-He might be a bit condescending and judgemental at first, but he’s probably going to baby you a bit for the rest of the night

-Because he feels bad he allowed you to watch it in the first place

-HAHAHAHA SOFT LUCIFER HAS BEEN SUMMONED, USE HIM WISELY

-He will start muttering words of comfort to you later because he’s certain you’re going to have trouble sleeping

-Because of that one time, he’s very hesitant to let you watch another horror film anytime soon

-But he will relent eventually (especially if you want to watch a human horror film as those are technically less extreme)

-If it makes you happy, he will go through with it, even if he has to let you cling onto him for the rest of the day

-Besides, the way you cuddle into him while you’re watching a horror film is very cute and endearing to him

Mammon:

-Ah yes, the most effective method of waking up the entire House of Lamentation at 3:00 am

-Mammon screaming his own vocal cords out in his room as he tries to get through his human’s favourite horror movie without dying of a heart attack

-It was his idea because he’s definitely the type to go: “Yeah let’s do this, it will be fun. Don’t get too scared alright MC? The Great Mammon will be here to protect ya.”

-And then ten minutes in, he’s basically in your lap

-Half an hour in, he turned himself into a demon burrito with his blankets

-You were enjoying the movie, laughing at the stupid sound effects and poor quality while Mammon next to you has wrapped himself in like two dozen blankets and pillows

-“Mammon you’re going to overheat.”

-“Don’t be silly human, I’m a demon who lives in hell. I can take high temperatures the same way I can take this damn movie!”

-He doesn’t take either of them well

-Mammon and the horror genre don’t mix well together to begin with

-So even if you might enjoy horror, he doesn’t react well to it at all

-And he’ll be low-key relieved if you tell him you guys don’t have to watch any sort of horror film for your date night

-“Well I guess if you don’t want to, then we don’t have to. Can’t make my human do something they’re uncomfortable with eh?”

-But if you do watch a scary movie with him, be sure to show any sort of physical affection to him as often as possible

-You don’t have to say anything, just hold his hand or let him put his head in your lap or something

-It might stop him from screeching like a female sloth in heat

-The last time that happened, his brothers weren’t too pleased with him

-They about to recreate the horror film scenes onto him, bring the popcorn have fun

Levi:

-For some reason, I feel like he doesn’t get scared easily while watching stuff

-I mean, after decades of obsessively watching animes with brutal character deaths (like Attack on Titan style) and grotesque horror games that are pretty nasty even to demons, let alone humans;

-A horror film, from the human world or even DevilDom, doesn’t do much for him

-It will have to have very good psychological horror in it if you want the hairs on his arms to stand up in anticipation

-Tension is a big deal for him and he will immediately shut off the TV if there are any cheap jump scares

-But, if you manage to find just the right thing for him?

-You’ll both be hiding under the bed in no time under the bathtub more like

-Hell, if the film you’re watching is that good, he might even be holding onto you for dear life without realising it and getting flustered about it

-For weeks afterwards, any sound that is remotely similar to one from that movie will probably send both of you into panic

-You came to his room one night because you’ve had a nightmare about the stupid film and legitimately thought there was a fucking demon serial killer in your room

-So you wanted to stay in his

-“But what if there is a serial killer in your room and now you just led it to me MC????”

-It’s all jokes, there’s no question he would lock both of you in his room and then stay there with you wide awake until dawn

-You’re his best friend after all, he would have to be completely heartless to leave you on your own! (Besides Levi is terrifying when he wants to be)

-One time you were sleeping over and the sound of fumbling woke you tf up

-And Levi immediately turned into his demon form, like he was ready to throw hands with this fictional murderer that supposedly sneaked into his room

-“DON’T WORRY MC, I’LL PROTECT YOU!”

-“Ah never mind, it’s just Mammon breaking into your room again to steal your Ruri-Cham figurines and sell them on Akuzon.”

-“Oh OK.”

-“.....”

-“WAIT MAMMON WTF YOU FUCKING SCUMBAG, GET OUT OF MY ROOM-“

-I’m playing Minecraft

Satan:

-Believe it or not, Satan doesn’t care much about horror movies

-Don’t get me wrong, he loves watching his brothers shit their pants out of fear in the middle of one while he silently smirks to himself because watching other people suffer brings him euphoria

-Especially if someone actually manages to find a film that is excellent enough to spook Lucifer, because then he will be cackLING

-But, overall, he watches a lot of shows revolved around drama and crime

-That’s his thing

-However, he won’t turn you down if you’re up to watching a scary movie with him

-Any time spent with you is valuable time seeing as it won’t be long before his brothers start hogging you again like the cockblockers they are

-He is honestly surprised to find out you seem to be rather amused by those sort of movies

-So, even if it’s not inherently something he does on the regular, he would definitely watch a scary film with you if you enjoy them that much

-But in exchange, he makes you promise to read with him until bedtime rolls around (imagine Lucifer having a fucking curfew for his brothers and you lmao)

-So for the rest of night you guys just read together, ya know, like sappy romantics

-Tbh, this man will do almost anything with you as long as both of you are having fun

-He knows it’s not likely, but he insists on sleeping in the same room that night just in case you have nightmares and he needs to comfort you

- :)

-Satan is a gentleman. Idk how many people that don’t play OM expected to hear this

Asmo:

-Why would you want to watch a movie when you could be watching him???

-I mean, you would rather watch all that gory stuff on the TV than his beautiful face?

-He may get salty over a fucking movie tbh

-Horror films aren’t something he generally looks for while trying to pick a movie to watch

-He can definitely handle them better than Mammon but it’s not something he takes great pleasure in watching

-But the first time he ever sits down with you to watch one, he’s very intrigued to see your reactions

-You started feeling the sensation of absolute dread creep in at the very beginning and you were trying your best to act like you weren’t getting affected by what you saw on the screen

-But you were

-You went from “I’m grown ass adult, I can watch a fucking horror movie, no problem.”

-To “Welp, not enough of a grown ass adult for this-“

-And Asmo thought the way you tried to hide your nervousness was very mesmerising in a way

-He was planning on flirting with you during the movie anyway, but now that you were pressing himself against him?

-Oh boy, Oh boy

-“Darling if you wanted to touch me, you could’ve just said so. Making the excuse of watching a movie is unnecessary.”

-Nightmares? What nightmares? You won’t have time to have nightmares ;)

-haHAHA funny inappropriate joke

-It’s Asmo, it’s mandatory to have at least one of those added in here

Beel:

-Beel will show up if there’s food and that’s that

-He doesn’t care what type of movie is playing on the TV as long as he has a bucket of popcorn next to him at all times

-Horror films aren’t something he can’t handle, he’s a demon like the rest of his brothers and he is used to...violent deaths and such

-He doesn’t get scared but there are times where he gets attached to the characters

-Especially movies with actual good and not cringeworthy dialogue

-Therefore, when they die, he gets sad even if they’re just fictional and their death had no real impact

-He also thinks that the way you can watch these things without flinching is impressive

-I mean, he can watch it and so can his brothers because they are demons

-They’ve done worse things than the things you see in horror films

-But you’re a human! So it’s weird to see you watch a person get repeatedly slammed against a wall until their neck snaps without batting an eyelid

-Overall, he does not have an opinion on scary movies

-He gets a bit emotional when a character he really liked dies

-But other than that, he’s just focused on eating

-And occasionally patting your head affectionately

Belphie:

-He doesn’t really like horror films because there’s a lot of screaming and tense music and he’s just trying to nap in your lap (rhyme)

-He doesn’t really need sound effects like that in the background while he’s trying to sleep

-But one day he was like “Hey, what if I show my favourite human this particular scary film?”

-And he did

-And he’s internally dying and feeling guilty and yet so flustered because of you

-It’s like you suddenly turn into this very fidgety and anxious mess and he thinks you just look....cute

-At some point you were getting overwhelmed and sprung up on your feet to turn the lights on

-And he just grabbbed your wrists, pulled you down next to him and let you press your head against his chest

-As mentioned, he’s a little shit and will tease you for being such a scaredy cat

-“That was the most predictable jumpscare and you still flinched, wth is wrong with you lmao.”

-But at the same time....

-“Relax. It’s just a horror movie. You’ll be fine. Besides, I’m here. Like I would let something bad happen to you.”

-That’s sweet, even if the tone of voice may not imply it because he’s such a brat-

-He actually really likes holding you for once, because usually he’s the little spoon

-He’s still a bit of a sadist so I imagine him sitting there and watching this while giggling to himself

-Isn’t he the cutest, laughing at other people’s misery and their never ending suffering?🥺🥺🥺 UwU

-Ah well, at least he has the decency to spoil with affection afterwards and make sure you have no nightmares that night

-You know, as payback for the horrific shit he made you watch with no warning

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OK, I think I made a decent job of this even though it took longer than it actually was meant to. Thank you for reading though. I’ve got so many requests to go through and I’ve been feeling motivated lately so yeah!

See you soon

Al~

#obey me #obey me imagines #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #watching scary movies #obey me shall we date #☂️ demon brothers #⭐️ requests #🌸 comfort #💳 mammon supremacy #I love him I’m sorry

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livinginncity · 3 years

Text

if we were human

♚: lee rang x reader

❡: fluff??(angst, pure angst)

ⱳƈ: 2.5k

⚠︎: besides it being really bad? none really. like, literally a couple swears. it was fluff, and then it became angst, so...sorry, but not really because if i’m crying, so are you.

children could be heard all around the park. some screaming and laughing as they run behind, others crying after they tripped, only to soon be comforted by the gentle holds and hushed assurances of their mothers and fathers. a bit further away was a small dog park, from which came all kinds of barks and growl, as well as cooing of the passerby. and there at a bench, located slightly closer to the swings and slides attracting the younger humans, sat a man that looked less than pleased to be where he was.

“Guess who.” a female’s voice rang out as a soft hand covered his eyes. he merely rolled his eyes beneath their new coverings and proceeded to drag the small wrist away from his face. “y/n.”

the young woman sneered and scoffed before yanking her hand out of his grasp to walk around and join him on the bench. “I don’t like you.”

“I don’t like you either.” a smack to the back of the man’s head could be felt soon after the words left his mouth. “Yah!”

“What are you doing here anyway? I never took you for the people watching type.”

“That's because I'm not. As if they deserve that much attention.” a hand lazily lifted in the direction of a familiar little boy, the action bringing a smile to the woman’s face.

“Ahhhh. But that one’s the exception? I thought you didn’t like little kids with runny noses, something I heard you have in common with your brother actually. Is that a gumiho thing or a family thing?” the man she addressed turned his head to look at her with an unimpressed look.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much? Or that you ask too many questions?”

“Well considering that was one of the first things you said to me when we met, I’ll just assume you know the answer to that already.”

she turned to look where the man’s gaze had previously been fixed and he followed suit. their eyes moved as they followed the movements of the young boy whose energy seemed to rival that of a puppy’s. ‘how fitting’ was the thought that came to the pair. minutes passed before they changed positions—the girl moving to settle her head on her company’s shoulder. said company shook her off before she repeated the action, leaving her be the second time. and he stayed in place even after she dragged his head to rest upon her own.

“Rang-ah.” the man simply grunted in response, urging her to continue. “I hate this.”

his eyebrows furrowed slightly at the sudden proclamation. “The kids? The families? Parks? I don’t really like them either. The first are messy and demanding, the second is an extremely unrealistic dynamic, and the last are way too loud and crowded.”

“No.” she took in her surroundings before speaking again. “This. I love all of this. I want it all. The kids are adorable and it feels so rewarding to be someone they rely on and look up to. I’ve had my fair share of family drama, but I’ve always wanted my own that I could cherish—pointless fights and all. And parks are probably one of my favorite places because it gives me everything I need to imagine what it’d be like if I had the first two.”

“What?” at her words he lifted his head to look down at her.

“I hate all of this shit that’s going on right now. It was one thing when you were just this occasional menace to your brother, but now the Imugi is involved and Lee Yeon refuses to let Ji Ah go again. It’s caused so many problems and with them, questions to be asked. Things could be so much simpler. Don’t you ever think about what life would be like if we were all human? This would all just be some petty high school drama. Like, Lee Yeon got class president in school and now, years later, both he and Imugi are CEOs competing in the nightclub industry or something like that.”

“You’re starting to sound like Lee Yeon. I guess you’re just as lame as him. Or maybe even lamer because really? That’s the best you can do with this fake drama?”

“Did I ever tell you that I ran into Soo Ho before you got the Tiger’s Brow back from him?” she ignored the questions, but her own annoyed him slightly. before he could respond. “I asked him if I could try them on and walked to the nearest window I could see myself in.”

“So, what’d you see? What were you? A Snake? A rat? Pufferfish?” her only response to his teasing was a pinch to the side. she shook her head before continuing.

“I saw a child.” her face changed to a solemn one. “All I saw was a snot-nosed little kid that the world seemed to have it out for. I didn’t even live long enough to have many firsts. And no one was ever there for the few I did. Well, there was one. Towards the end, I think my final year, I met an old lady. She lived alone, but she took me in the moment we crossed paths. She gave me my own room, let me help her cook, as much as a child could help, and she would always tell me these stories of her husband who had passed about a decade before. In just a few months, that woman gave me what felt like a lifetime of love. All while I was slowly dying, she made me forget the hardships, the neglect, the hatred, and by some cruel fate, she died first. But before she went, she said to me “treat my death as not another result of this terrible world, but take it as a sign that even when we know that our end is inescapable, we are able to cherish the temporary moments in which we are truly happy should we allow ourselves that much.” And so,”

the woman finally lifted her head from the gumiho’s shoulder to look into his eyes. “I think, if I could be reincarnated as a human again, I would. But since it’s probably never gonna happen I want to live like one. Get married, have a family, get mad when someone doesn’t show up for the holidays. I don’t know if I’d make it as a human with everything I know now, and I honestly don’t want to be human right-right now because I probably wouldn’t get to be around you. And I also just can’t imagine how you’d get by without seeing me every day.”

“Don’t act like you’re anything special.” he scoffed and looked back at the playground.

“You don’t have to admit it.” she stood up from the bench, looked over to the young boy he had taken in, and turned back. the woman grabbed his face and, after looking at the man for a few seconds, leaned in. “I know you love me.” and then she ran. “Soo Ho-ah! Let me play with you, that old fox is being mean again!”

“Yah!” he didn’t get up to chase her. she was right no matter how much he thought about it. somehow that weird girl wormed her way into the list of people he more than tolerated. and as he sat alone with his thoughts, he watched her play with the reincarnated boy, the latter seemingly winning their current sword fight.

does he ever wanna be human? no, it seems way too boring. does he like kids? he likes one, so that’s good enough. will he get married at some point? well, it’s just some rings and paper. and it’s not like he isn’t in love with that girl in the park.

bonus;

“Hey, y/n. If you’re watching this then...you know. I figured a couple good deeds might do me well in the afterlife, so what better way than finally letting my brother be with the girl he’s waited hundreds of years for.”

“You crazy bastard.” those were the only words that she could force her mouth to speak as she looked down at the small screen.

“I know you’re probably cursing me right now, thinking ‘this crazy bastard.’” somehow they both managed to let out a chuckle. “You know I don’t like vulgar words, but I’m not there, so i told Soo-Ho to pinch you for me every time one leaves your mouth.”

“Of course you did. It’s already a habit of his now.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. Especially to you, Yu Ri, and Soo-Ho. I didn’t get to say thank you, either. You’ve all helped me more than I’d ever care to admit, but I really am grateful to have shared part of my life with you. I got to help Yu Ri like Lee Yeon helped me, got to meet Blacky again, and I got to experience so many things with you.”

the tears in her eyes were already brimming and it was clear they wouldn’t stay there long. “y/n.” she looked back to the screen as he called her name.

“go to the nightstand on the right of my bed and open the drawer.” the girl got up from her place at the edge of the bed and walked over to the wooden table. with her phone in her left, she used her right to open the drawer, and she could feel her heartbeat stutter as she laid her sights on the black velvet box that sat in it. she reached a shaky hand to pick it up, and when she flipped it open she couldn’t help dropping the phone as she brought the other to her mouth with a choked sob. all she could do was shake her head and let the tears subject themselves to gravity.

“Do you remember that day in the park?” despite not being able to actually see through the endlessly flowing tears, she managed to scramble around and find the device that had slipped from her grasp. “You were talking about all this stuff like marriage, family, kids—what it’d be like to be human because things would be so much simpler. And while I don’t think anyone could ever convince me that being human would be fun, I figured we could at least do some of those human things. We were kind of halfway there, you know? You practically live in my apartment, and Soo-Ho took over the living room with his toys, so it was only a matter of time for him to get his own room so I could stop stepping on legos—maybe get a door with a lock from the outside so I don’t have to worry about waking up covered in stickers.”

she laughed as she recalled the memory, his interactions with the little boy, and their goofy smiles when things were calm for once. “You dorks were made to follow each other into every life.”

“I was gonna propose to you after this whole thing was over. Once I knew Lee Yeon was safe and not being targeted by a wannabe dragon. I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you or...our own kid, though I think the one we have now is pretty great. And I’m also really sorry that I’m finally telling you this once it’s too late, but you were right. About what you said that day.” her breath hitched as she saw the tears glisten while they slid down his face. “I love you.

as if it were clockwork, a sob made its way from her throat and the tears began again.

“Yah, stop crying already. Please. I’d be upset if I was the cause of it.” and she tried, she really did, but it wasn’t as easy as he made it sound. “And, I know this is probably asking a lot for all that I’ve put you through, but can you wear it? At least for a little bit. Just think of it as a way of honoring my memory—the better parts obviously. You can keep my apartment if you want, too. Soo-Ho might be a job better-fit for Sin-Ju and Yu Ri, but if he says he wants to stay with you, you better let him.”

another laugh emitted from between the sobs as she listened to his final message.

“I really do love you, y/n. And if there is ever a chance of us finding each other again, I’ll tell you every chance I get. Anyway, I think it’s time for me to go now. I only have a couple more minutes and I don’t think the others are gonna make it in time. I’m scared if I’m being honest, y/n. I’m afraid of being alone, but you helped me not feel like that all the way up to the end—I finally had a family. So thank you. Love you.” and he smiled his big, child-like smile before adding on, “And don’t tell Lee Yeon I said sorry, or thank you, or I love you that much in under ten minutes.”

and just like that, it was over. no more, dumb family feuds, no more naengmyeon with no eggs because someone would always steal it, no more Lee Rang. she stared at the paused screen for what felt like hours before setting it to the side on the bed, to do as he had asked. carefully, she took the ring out from the safety of its cushions and slid it onto her left hand. she let out a shaky breath as she stared at her ring finger and she said it back, hoping that somehow, someway, he would hear it. “I love you too, Lee Rang-ah.”

it was a while before she moved from that spot—getting on her feet only to answer the door that had just rung. opening it, she could have seen the man who had taken the place of Lee Rang’s in the living world, but all she saw at that moment was an older brother who had also lost someone he loved.

“Lee Yeon-ah.” it was then that the male finally took in her appearance. she wore jeans, one of his brother’s sweaters, and her hair was in a bun that had clearly seen better days. but what really caught his attention as his eyes traveled, was the black box in her right hand, and shining silver band on her left. then he lifted his eyes back to hers to see just how tired she was. “Lee Yeon-ah. I miss him.”

the man simply brought her into his chest as she sobbed. and she cried, and she cried, and all the while he stood there with her in his embrace. it was all he could do, he couldn’t offer her words of comfort just yet because, even now she may be much stronger than he is. because she’s strong enough to live without the promise of his reincarnation. she knows she may never see him again, but won’t risk exchanging her life just so he won’t go through the same thing.

“I miss him so much.” her voice cracked as the words came out, and he ran his hand over her hair.

“I know, I know. I miss him, too.”

#tale of the nine tailed #tale of gumiho #lee rang #lee rang x reader #lee rang imagine #kim bum #kdrama #kdramanetwork #lee yeon #lee dong wook #i wrote the first part two episodes before the final one #so after acting it out in the shower i wrote the bonus part

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ravenadottir · 3 years

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Hear me out: headcannons about Bobby growing old with mc🥺 (I needed some fluff T-T)

no no no no no, you can’t just come in here and do this to me!! that’s so wholesome! i think i’m gonna have to divide this in decade marks, and maybe stop at the 30 year mark? i can do a part II later. 🤔

‘10 year mark’

the ‘mckenzie’ brand has expanded to restaurants, bars and bakeries all over the uk

the bars are considered a hot spots in the big cities. pictures of young ‘paisley cuddle’ are scattered on the walls, along with the pics from the villa’s parties, to set the theme

the restaurants have bobby and his experiences with famous chefs, like jake ‘sweetcheeks’ wilson, mary berry, gordon ramsey, wolfgang puck.

the bakeries however have the pictures from the time bobby went on the bake off show and won.

there’s small town models of the bakeries/restaurants that are seen as ‘family diners’

you and bobby already have two kids, 4 years apart from each other. in my head bobby is the type to have them earlier so they can live their best life together, have fun in the kitchen or in the backyard playing ball.

he loves throwing birthday parties every year, and of course, baking the cake. to which year is a different theme. “babe, you take care of the decorations and the details i’m definitely gonna forget, and me?” he puffs his chest holding a whisk. “i’m the cake guy.”

bobby is the reason why the kids love the parties so much. he’s the type of parent that goes on the slider with the kids, jumps with them in the bounce house, starts the water balloon wars…

the parents are so thankful for him since he’s pretty much the one who keeps an eye on them at all times.

usually, he’s waking up early every day because it became a habit since his hospital times. he never really shook that habit. so he prepared breakfast, takes the dog out, while you wake the kids up to eat and rush them to school

the dad that takes two different cameras and a phone to film and take pictures during his kids’ public presentations, games, recitals and science fairs “dad, one phone is enough” “yeah, but your dad needs backup! i’m from the 90′s darling. i can’t be any different” he says, shrugging with a grin.

you guys have a small house on the outskirts of glasgow or london, depending on who won the bet you had when you got married.

you’re pregnant again. entirely unplanned and now bobby can’t stop crying,. he always wanted three kids.

‘15 year mark’

a third child came three years ago, which made you consider a much more peaceful place to buy a house. and a bigger one for that matter.

bigger bakyeard means more people and their kids playing around the lawn, as bobby and gary grill sausages, making stupid jokes about it, and you and the girls have drinks shaking your heads.

you and bobby are gary’s kids’ godparents

ibrahim can’t come, he’s to busy making mad money on brand deals. noah is calming the kids down, by reading something in the living room, while bobby shakes a cocktail for the tired parents.

gary gives you a new couple of puppies, because the dog you had has unfortunately passed away. (sorry!)

your first kid is just turning 13 and being a little pain in the ass. but they like their uncles and aunties so they will actually raise their heads from *inser new device that will replace phones*

you guys travel in your car, to spend a week in cabins, fishing, playing ball, having picnics close to the lake

bobby always throws at least one of the kids in the water, before jumping in and splashing everyone. “bet you can’t do better than that, babe…” he says to you, raising his brows suggestively. “watch me, mckenzie.”

summer time and the lake became a tradition since it was the first place you and him spent a holiday alone

the employees that attend to you in hotels refer to you as “the mckenzie’s”

in the city, you have a trustworthy babysitter that will spend the night so you and bobby can have some time alone

he surprises you with dates and flowers out of nowhere

early nights are made for you and bobby to help the kids with homework

at this point, bobby is invited to be a special guest in cooking/baking competitions in the uk

and to have a “masterclass” of hiw own, where he mostly credits you for the idea of expanding, the execution of the administrative plans and how to actually expand a business. “i only do the cooking. she’s the genius behind the money.” he laughs while crossing his legs during his online course.

‘20 year mark’

kids’ sad times. graduations are happening. the youngest is entering third grade, the other one is in uni, far from home. “did you have to choose something so far from your old man?” “dad… of course! how else would i have a ‘paisley cuddle’ phase?” they respond, laughing. “i should’ve never told you thats story! now you’re having ideas!” “relax dad. everything is gonna be fine!” the middle one is entering high school and their rebellious phase.

bobby follows through with his part of the deal when you got married, by wearing something ridiculous to embarrass your kid at their graduation. “dad, you look like a hawaiian drug dealer.” “ i know,” “oh, so it wasn’t dark when you got dressed? mom!” “what can i say, your dad doesn’t care for blacks and blues.” “yeah, right…”

professionaly, bobby has a renowned signature dish, plenty of new ideas for the future, like school and courses.

the house is the same you bought five years ago, but now, it’s mostly parents getting together for barbecues, cocktails, movies and game nights

the younger children stay in the tv room upstairs

‘25 year mark’

your second child didn’t go to uni, and decided to help out on the family business. they always felt like this was the life for them and couldn’t wait to finish school to start.

bobby wanted them to go to school to learn everything they could “but dad, you didn’t, and you know so much.” “oof, they got you there, babe.”

you have a second wedding ceremony and a second honeymoon

bobby has a few grey hairs popping through his dreads

he’s still wearing colorful shirts and girls on social media call him ‘daddy’

he’s been invited to cook for the queen (yes, she’s still alive)

you see your friends a few times more a year now.

your third child is going to uni, to follow a career path you never imagined they would, but you’re proud of them

you decided to sell the house, that’s so big now, and find a smaller one that still has an extra bedroom for when your oldest comes to stay with their partner

bobby cracks dad jokes now, and according to gary, he picked them up from him “sure, gary, ‘cause you’re the only man on the planet who tells dad jokes” “stop bickering! you’re like an old married couple.” you say, slapping their arms playfully

‘30 year mark’

your first child just had their first child

“you’re a grandpa, bobs!” gary slaps him on the back, picking up a box of cigars that they will share with noah and ibrahim.

“can’t believe i’m this old.” “if you’re old, what am i?” you ask him, folding your arms on your chest. “beautiful?” he responds with a clear guilty expression.

‘things that would happen at all times during this entire journey’

bobby would sing to the kids every night

you would read them bedtime stories, taking turns to do the voices

it’s a tradition to cook together on special occasions, no matter what happens. the three kids, you and bobby would always spend the day listening to music, talking about life, slicing, sauteeing, mixing, measuring. it’s a tradition that will never die

when your grandkids come around, they will be the the ones resposible for measuring

drawings that your kids do in school akways have extra colors on bobby’s outfits. his name also has more than three colored letters

bobby has taught your kids how to play the guitar

rainy afternoons were known as “dad’s baking afternoons”

you and bobby had a hard time to find a compromise between being friends and parents.

open conversations with your kids, about everything. they knew what to expect in the world.

bobby’s parents would visit, to spend a whole weekend and share stories of his childhood, as yours would too

family vacation always had a ‘car trip and singing along to the radio’ type of tradition as well

your oldest now takes their child for family vacation in the same spot you and bobby used to

twice a year you guys rent a place for the family to have some bonding, even after they get married (or not)

“your dad is the finest pillow fort architect in the uk”

camping in the backyard when you had to cancel a trip

you’re in charge of coaching and playing sports in the back of the house while bobby relaxes under the sunlight “i was never very athletic”. he’s the empire

*these are the ones on the top of my head. i must’ve left dozens behind :/

#litg #love island the game #love island the game season 2 #litg s2 #litg season 2 #fusebox #fusebox games #bobby mckenzie #queue #submission #litg bobby

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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Look I knew from things my friend reblogged that you have A Gift but now I'm following you and crying every time you post because it is ALWAYS top quality and I am but a poor little goblin with Feelings. You are my favorite and I love you. (also "oh what a hairy valley it is" is fucking hilarious I laugh every time I read it)

You are my new favourite and I love you too! Especially because you find “oh what a hairy valley it is” funny. As thanks, I hope you like a bit of a twist on the Witcher Wolf Pack and their Bard in a modern setting.

Street life was harsh but the wolves had learned how to play the game over the decades. Witchers had become nothing more than myths and they had died out. Or rather, they faded from visible existence and found ways to get with the times. But nobody really wanted grizzly, musclebound men with facial scars so the wolves of Kaer Morhen were left behind by society. It wasn’t like they could get paperwork and ID needed for work and rent, so they lived on the fringes, accepted the ‘help’ of a sorcerer. It wasn’t much better, living on the streets as wolves most idiots mistook for large dogs. But at least they could slink around relatively undisturbed. They could shift forms as they needed but most of the time, they remained four legged.

They had a whole system worked out, honourable as much as thieves could be. Because they needed to steal, needed food and money to survive. The back alley that they’d pulled blankets and cardboard boxes to had become home. But they couldn’t live off things they fished out of the dumpster all the time. It was how they ended up with a range of schemes and ploys.

Easiest was the sad, scared puppy game. It was one that Lambert excelled at, looking vulnerable. If he rolled in a puddle first, he could look exceptionally pitiful. His scars showed up the least too and, as the youngest, he often got the most response. Some days he would hang around outside a food shop and whimper at those going in. The more generous humans would emerge with their shopping plus a little something for him. When something was thrown his way, Lambert would snatch it out of the air and run, hide the stash until he could haul his trophies home to share.

More elaborate was the teamwork of Vesemir and Eskel. They didn’t pull it off often because it was much more dangerous for them both. At some traffic lights where cars were slowing down, Eskel would step in front of a car and get clipped. He’d perfected the art of just getting a glancing bruise on his shoulder but it sounded impressive enough. Once the car stopped, Vesemir, in his grizzled old glory, would fling himself in front of the car with a whimpering howl. That usually got everyone’s attention, the poor old dog, shaking and quivering on the floor. It was enough of a distraction for Eskel to shift to human form and dive into the car, pulling anything of value out. They had to be so careful, not taking anything from those who obviously were in need. That was on top of the constant worry that Eskel could actually get hurt or Vesemir would get carted off to the pound. But the few times they did it, they often got enough things to pawn or, once, a shopping bag full of party food.

Geralt was too bulky to look sad in front of a shop, he got chased with a broom more often than not. He also didn’t have Eskel’s light fingers to steal from cars or Vesemir’s gravitas to look convincingly injured. What he could do though was pickpocket and steal bags. It was so easy to walk pad through a square, a stray dog nobody paid attention to. A snout in a passing pocket resulted in a mouthful of wallet. And the times someone put a bag down to look at their phone or, rarely, to pet him, he could pick up the bag and trot off without much fuss. The other thing Geralt did was trail buskers. He learned about them, knew those who were busking for fun and those who needed the coins tossed at them. Those who did it for a hobby, Geralt had no qualms about ambling up to and snuffling their things. It usually earned him a pat on the head and a laugh. It meant he could curl up with whoever it was playing and, at the end of their stint, Geralt could snuffled a little more under the pretence of curiosity. Nobody ever thought to look in his mouth to find the coins they could have sworn were there.

It was a great ploy until a new busker turned up. Geralt couldn’t get a read on him. The man looked and acted like a peacock but he smelled tired and hurting. Before Geralt could even approach him to investigate, the man was setting his instrument to the side and reaching out in invitation for Geralt to join him.

“You might need a bit of rest.” The man said and pulled a water bottle from his pack. Shoving his handwritten sign of gratitude from the plastic container, it was filled up with water instead. “It’s a warm day, I doubt there are puddles around for you.”

It turned out, the man chattered a lot when he wasn’t playing. He was called Jaskier, had no real family to speak of and loved singing. There was an art to speaking a lot without saying much and Geralt knew Jaskier was a master. In the evening, when Jaskier packed up, Geralt couldn’t bring himself to take any of his coin.

“If you’re ever in the area, you’ll always have a blanket to rest on with me,” Jaskier promised and waved to Geralt. It was only then that Geralt realised that not once did Jaskier touch him.

Once a week, Geralt sought Jaskier out. It was oddly relaxing and on his third visit, Geralt found he had actually fallen into a deep sleep, trusting this stranger to keep him protected. Of course, the others teased him about it relentlessly. Late at night when they were all sprawled in their alley with a rare treat of beer Eskel had managed to snag, they laughed about Geralt’s crush.

“Fine. You go see if you can do better,” he grumbled.

From then on, the wolves took turns and each came back suitably cowed. Eskel had taken the first chance to go see Jaskier for himself. He’d come back subdued and quiet. “He told be about his White Wolf,” he’d said. “How I must be his brother because I’m just as handsome.”

There was nothing handsome about Eskel, or so he thought. His scarring in wolf and human form had his lip pulled up and, as a wolf, he looked like he was continually snarling, teeth bared.

“He wasn’t scared,” Eskel whispered in wonder.

Unable to believe it all, Lambert went to see Jaskier next. He only came back late at night and refused to say anything. It was only later the next night that he whispered to Eskel that he’d tried to goad Jaskier into hurting him, to prove a point. And he got belly rubs instead. Which were a lot nicer than anything Lambert had experienced in a long time, so he had to slink off and think for a few hours before returning home.

Vesemir still had his doubts. His three pups might have been taken in by the singing stranger but he was suspicious. Determined to get to the bottom of their infatuation, Vesemir set out to spy on Jaskier. It didn’t go as well as planned because he was spotted and beckoned over. Even worse, there were freshly bought treats in Jaskier’s pocket, coming out to appease him.

“You look like you could be their father,” Jaskier prattled, handing over another treat. “The same noble, ancient look they’ve got. Living on the streets is no easy feat and I imagine you’ve done it your whole lives. But your pack seem wonderful. You ought to be proud of your boys.”

Vesemir would have thought it all some great, cunning plan were it not for the fact that he could smell the street on Jaskier. Obviously he’d been sleeping in hostels or the like until recently. And yet there he was with the best treats he could afford for a bunch of stray dogs who he knew to be wolves.

From then on, Jaskier enjoyed the company of a wolf beside him for four of the seven days of the week. Geralt slept on the blanket, running and eating in his sleep. By contrast, Lambert was needy, demanding attention and petting, constantly by Jaskier’s feet. Eskel liked to lie calmly and watch, sometimes he’d howl along and get laughs. Occasionally trotting off and coming back with a snack or a drink for them, clutched carefully in his mouth. The first time he presented Jaskier with a sandwich, he man had looked both scandalised and then blissed out as he bit into it like he was starving. Vesemir was by far the calmest, he watched Jaskier rather than the crowds around them, keeping track of how things changed.

“He sleeps on the streets,” he told his pups one night. “I worry for him.”

They couldn’t find Jaskier though, it was a large city and there were a lot of places to hide. By pure luck, they were settling down into a tangle of limbs, tails and fur when they heard voices.

“Just hand it over and you’ll live.” A menacing voice growled.

“I can’t give you that. It’s how I make what little money I have. I’ve already offered you everything I can!” That was definitely Jaskier.

“Along these parts, our word is law. You’ve not paid your dues and now we’re raising fees.”

There was the soft thump of someone being struck and the smell of blood. The wolves were up on their feet as one, quietly padding closer to investigate. Jaskier was on his knees, guitar behind him along with his usual pack which looked like it had been rifled through already. Opposite him were three men, one of them with a nail studded baseball bat.

“I think you need to be taught a lesson,” the man snarled and raised the bat. It arced through the air and there was the sound of it striking flesh and a sharp whine of a wolf in pain rang through the alley.

“What the fuck?”

Geralt was laid flat on the floor and panting, white fur staining red. The other three wolves were snapping and growling at the attackers while Jaskier knelt and watched in awe. Lambert jumped first, jaw latching around the wrist holding the bat and shaking his head.

In two minutes, the attackers were running, bleeding and cursing and the alley was silent save for the panting of the wolves. Eskel and Vesemir shared a look as they approached Geralt. They shifted, ignoring the gasp of surprise from Jaskier.

“You need to shift, pup,” Vesemir stroked over Geralt’s head. “Let us get a better look.”

It took a moment longer but Geralt was human once again and wheezing.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands clenched in fists.

“Let them sort it,” Lambert murmured from just behind Jaskier, making him jump. “It’ll be okay. Geralt’s just a drama queen.”

“A drama queen with broken ribs,” Eskel grumbled. “At least the nails didn’t puncture his lung.”

In all of that, Jaskier was quiet and surprisingly unafraid. Puzzled, most definitely but he didn’t panic or run.

“Will he be okay?” he asked, soft and worried.

“He’s a strong one, survived a lot worse.” The reassurance from Vesemir lifted a little of the tension. “Why aren’t you running and screaming?”

“Why should I? You saved my life and you’re the wolves I’ve known for weeks now. It’s nice that you can talk back now.”

That seemed to settle matters somehow. And the wolves got a fourth act in their repertoire. Now, Jaskier sang and busked with the protection of a wolf by his side at all times. And, when he returned back to the alley, he always shared his bounty with the others.

“And when I get famous, you’re all coming with me. We’ll tour the world together,” he promised each night from the centre of the wolf pile. It usually earned at least one tail thump or a chuffed out wolf-y laugh. The wolves might have indulged him in such fantasies but they were the ones who had to eat their words. A talent scout did indeed pick Jaskier up. Along with his four wolves who became his bodyguards.

Part 2 here.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #vesemir #witcher wolf pack #hurt/comfort #modern au #long post #tldr: the witcher wolf pack adopts busker jaskier #cw: mild injury #shifter au

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ambivalentmarvel · 4 years

Text

he he for celebratory Reasons (and also because i love The Boys) i decided @sreppub deserved some fluffy, mit-era ironhusbands, so here we are!! enjoy and interact with ali’s content for good health

not quite (puppy love)

The night Tony figures out he’s in love with Rhodey, he’s sixteen, Rhodey’s nineteen, and they’re at the movie theater.

They don’t have any special reason for going, but Tony doesn’t need one with Rhodey. It’s a Friday night, and for the moment, they’re both tired of picking a frat house to party at—their haunt of choice still hasn’t replaced the appliance they stole the last time the two of them got bored there, anyway—so they decide to go to a late-night showing, one of the not-as-recent movies the theater puts on just because, Tony guesses.

A New Hope isn’t that great, even if Tony is a little into the dude who plays Luke and can enjoy looking at him for a few hours, but Rhodey likes the story and the effects.

Tony’s thought about telling him that some of the backgrounds they use are realistic paintings—the director told him as much at some stupid event his dad made him go to—but he likes to let him speculate, sometimes, because Rhodey’s tangents about the things he’s interested in are rare but passionate when they get going.

Tony could listen to Rhodey talk, could watch his eyes glitter and hands gesture in circles like he always does when he gets carried away, for hours, and really, that should’ve clued him in long beforehand.

But it didn’t.

(As Rhodey would say, Tony’s both the smartest person he knows and dumb as a box of rocks. For his part, Tony appreciates the honesty.)

So they have a few beers each at their apartment—just enough to get tipsy, to make the room a little warm, to make their conversations about nothing and everything stretch long, like taffy, into the frosty night—and Tony says they should do something.

Rhodey shakes his head. “Kappa Sigma hasn’t gotten a new—”

“Toaster, I know, but it’s the weekend, and finals week is coming up, and then you’ll be stressed, and I’ll be stressed because you’re stressed, and neither of us will really feel like going out.” Tony takes a swig of his beer. He swindled the twelve-pack out of a douche from his microeconomics class trying to suck up to him, and it’s a Coors—not Tony’s favorite, but it gets the job done. “I don’t want to sit around all night and waste our time before then.”

Rhodey raises a brow consideringly. “Fair.” His eyes slide to Tony, on the other side of the couch from him so that Rhodey can use his lap as a footrest. “What were you thinking?”

And while Tony has ideas, like breaking into the zoo (hence the nickname platypus) or seeing how many packets of candy they can shoplift from the corner store with the sleazy owner (hence the nickname sour patch) again, Rhodey shoots those down, unfortunately.

“I can’t study as well when I’m worried about a court date,” he declines with a sigh of disappointment because, whether Rhodey will readily admit it or not, the shit Tony thinks of, while illegal, is fun.

In the end, Tony can’t come up with anything else, so Rhodey chooses. Ergo, the movies.

They’re both still a little buzzed, and the extra-buttery popcorn—Tony’s request, though Rhodey says the sogginess is gross—they share leaves kernels between their teeth that they pick out shamelessly, alone in the theater and not in the habit of being embarrassed besides.

It’s not the first movie they’ve gone to together, certainly isn’t the last, and it’s not even the best time they’ve had at the theater. However, as they sit, Tony drifting off here and there as he puts the armrest between them up to rest his head on Rhodey’s shoulder, it strikes Tony that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

The realization alone is enough to make Tony melt into his sweater, more content than he ever imagined possible growing up in a house where he stayed perched on his tiptoes in case he needed to take flight.

Tony stares at Rhodey adoringly in its wake, admiring the bridge of his nose, the slope of his brows, the depth of the eyes beneath them, and then there’s a dumb-one liner in the movie that makes Rhodey laugh. Tony, taking in everything about Rhodey while he remains oblivious, watches his grease-shiny lips split in a grin, and the dim light of the movie makes the expression sparkle with something Tony can’t find a word for but feels down to his toes.

It’s the fizz of champagne, the crackling of a fireplace, and the texture of a favorite blanket all at once, as homey as it is electrifying, and an oozing warmth spreads across the plains of Tony’s cheeks as his lips part in surprise at the intensity of the experience.

Rhodey never looks away from the screen, but though Tony is young, knows that, even if the emotion flooding him means as much as he suspects it does, he has a ways to go before he can do anything about it, he understands he’s never ever felt that way about a friend before.

(About anyone before.)

Rhodey shakes his head in amusement and takes a sip of his coke. “I love this movie,” he mutters, and though he’s said as much a thousand times before, Tony doesn’t mind hearing it again.

“Mhmm,” Tony breathes, unable to summon a more coherent response as he cuddles back into Rhodey’s side—an action that seems much more intimate than it did a second ago—and sends a flushed, grateful prayer up to any entity listening that he got assigned his best friend for a roommate. And if he’s pink in the face until he dozes off twenty minutes later, unable to stop wondering what Rhodey’s lips might feel like against his own, no one except himself knows. Not until much, much later, anyway, when Tony isn’t so little and Rhodey has only gotten more gorgeous with time and both of them beat around the bush for far too long when it comes to a silent, infallible affection they’ve nursed for each other over the better part of a decade.

But until then, Tony is sixteen, Rhodey is nineteen, and when Rhodey laughs, Tony thinks the whole world could hinge on the sound and still stay balanced from the way it fills him up to the brim.

(It always will, even if he has to wait.)

#james rhodes #rhodey #tony stark #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #fluff #fic #ambivalentmarvel #1k of tony being head over heels for rhodey and barely knowing that he is lmao #ily ali have some of Them #as a treat

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captainjimothycarter · 3 years

Note

I’d be rlly interested in seeing take on infinity war!steve and peggy. You’re writing is great, but most importantly, keep doing what makes u happy & healthy 😊

Like IW Steve like FROM IW or IW looking Steve? Either way, this is what i came up with. I am so unsure if its what you wanted. Also thank you so much, you are amazing and I”m glad you love my writing <3 I also haven’t seen IW so bear with me.

“I don’t understand,” Peggy found herself saying for the unkempt time that evening. She stared down at her hands, not able to bring herself to look up at him.

This isn’t real. This couldn’t be real. This was some dream, some illusion her brain has cocked up from long, overworking hours in a hot and stuffy building because someone had painted the windows shut yet again.

And yet, her mind subtle, it has to be.

Because she does not remember ever seeing Steve with a full beard nor with hair this long, nor with this look in his eyes that has told her he’s lost everything. He’s nearly as afraid of her as she is of him.

She’s seen him with stubble, weeks of over shaving have caused his beard to come in slower than the rest. She’s seen him with longer hair than what the military rules regulate, but in times of war, rules are bent and forgotten. She’s seen him with a lost look in his eyes when it involved saving innocence from camps and even when it came to losing Barnes, but this? This is something so much worst.

He’s pacing in front of her, still having yet to remove his uniform. It’s grimy, covered in God knows what. He’s bleeding still from a busted lip, a cut above his eyebrow. He’s worst for wear with neglect and from what she can make terms of it, a war had happened. A battle had been fought, people lost to weapons beyond her understanding and stones taking people’s lives and turning them to dust.

He stops to look at her, hearing her words, taking in her appearance. She looks straight from his memory, wearing a cream blouse and red skirt. A heel is broken and the hem of the skirt is covered in dirt and there’s a smudge of it on the tip of her nose, but she’s real. She’s breathing. Every scan done to her proves she’s real.

Turning back to a man named Bruce, Steve waved his hand again in her direction, something that was getting annoying. “Explain.”

The man gave an exhausted sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. He took his glasses off and massaged his temples. “Steve, I’ve explained it - the-the fact is I can’t understand this!” His fist hit the computer, making them all jump. “The only people who can are -”

“Don’t,” Steve breathed in a tone she had so rarely heard before. Begging. Don’t admit the words that are true. That he knows to be true.

“The fact is-”

“You don’t know that!”

He’d taken a step towards the doctor, his shoulders squared and jawline clenched. She’s seen that look before - how many times had he given that look in the face of battle? How many times had he looked this determined when arguing his point during tactics of war?

Except he wasn’t arguing to save damage done to their men - he was begging for his own salvation.

“Steve.”

The voice came from a woman Peggy hadn’t seen walked in, a woman with short, cropped blonde hair. The way she held herself told her that she understood the argument between the two, that she was on edge herself, worried for her friend.

The Captain let out a shuttering breath, fists clenched as he turned to look at her. For a second, he looked like he was about to swing and hit her before his shoulders slacked.

“Go take a breather. Bruce, you too.”

When the men cleared out of the room, Peggy let her shoulders drop and ran a hand over her face. She felt a few flakes of dirt fall from her hair. How had she’d gotten so dirty?

“This is not the reunion I imagined,” she attempted to joke, looking up at the woman.

The blonde’s lips twitched slightly as she got on her level, squatting down to look at her. “I don’t think this is what he imagined either. Steve is…”

“I know,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You don’t have to tell me, I know.”

“Then you know he’ll come around to you once…” She swallowed and looked up at the holograms, watching the faces change. Her eyes reflected the hurt. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

Peggy still couldn’t make heads or tails of what the hell had happened. She was sitting behind her desk, late at night when a flash of bright light had taken her. She had no time to react, to shout, to even grab her gun, before she was tumbling head-first and into a pile of mud. She wasn’t alone when she came to her senses, moments later. The woman with blonde hair - known as Natasha - and a man with the clearest blue eyes she’s only remembered in her dreams stared at her.

Steve.

It had been the first name out of her lips and Steve’s face twisted in pain and horror as he dropped to his knees beside her. His hand ghost over hers, just barely touching her. He wouldn’t look at her, past her, to the woman, trying to determine if this was real or not. She had touched him and he flinched, causing her hand to jerk back.

“You’re real.”

Those should not have been their reunion sentence, the first words out of his lips but they were. They were the most heartbreaking thing she had ever heard and the sound played in a record in her head.

It’s what brought the first sob from her lips, the water pouring from the showerhead washing away her tears. She was thankful for a hot shower, scrubbing perhaps too hard at her skin to wash away any trace of dirt. She wasn’t sure why she was crying.

Maybe it was the fact of everything - the horror Steve had been through, the situation she fell in on. Or the overwhelming sense that he’d been alive this whole time. Or just everything. All she knew when she came out of the shower, hair done into an un-elegant knot on the top of her head, she felt no better.

Natasha had left clothes for her to wear. A simple pair of jeans and a blouse, a pair of pajamas were left behind on a bed. She wasn’t even sure where she was staying or whose room this was. Just that she was both exhausted and hungry and wanted to find Steve to give him the comfort he needed, but not wanting to force her place.

A knock at the door distracted her from getting dressed, tying the soft, plush robe tighter around her frame as she went to answer the door. “Oh, Natasha, I’m…” The words stopped on her tongue as she found Steve standing in her doorway.

He’s showered too, given the damp hair hanging in his face. The cuts and bruises looked almost better by a small margin. He had pulled on a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, his hands full of take out that reminded Peggy just how hungry he was.

“Hi,” he breathed, underneath the beard she could see a flush forming. “I...I brought...dinner. Figured you were hungry. Interdimensional travel, I hear makes you starved.”

“Hi.” He looked so nervous, it reminded her of the little boy from Brooklyn decades ago. “Where did you hear that one?” Peggy quipped, hand closing around the frame of the door.

“Thor.”

Slowly stepping aside, she waved him in and Steve seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind them. “I’ll have to meet this Thor, then, if he’s an expert at these travels.”

“You’d like him, he’s...he’s great…” She could see his shoulders sagging as he placed the steaming bag onto the table, gripping the chair hard enough that she could hear the sound of the wood splintering.

There was a little hesitation in her motives, but she forced herself through to take his hands. He turned to her and she wasn’t surprised to find tears in his eyes. She was surprised when he hugged her tightly, face buried in her hair.

Fuck.

She couldn’t deny herself this. Her arms tightened around him, pulling his frame closer to hers. His shoulders shook with a gasping sob, Peggy’s arms only tightening to give him the solace he deserved.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that position or who cried more, but she was reluctant to pull away. His hand held her cheek, gently wiping the tears away.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, always sounding in awe when he spoke of her looks. “You-you always were - I mean you have… you just…”

Despite the sniffling and tears on both of their faces, Peggy stood on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, arms moving to wrap around his neck. He picked her up off of her feet to kiss her in return.

The kiss was not what she imagined, how their reunion should’ve gone, but it was theirs. He gave a weak laugh as he sat her back on her feet, still holding her face in between both his hands now.

“I’m a mess,” she retorted, lips now were swollen from kissing.

“Beautiful,” he corrected, making her snort and roll her eyes. His lips twitched into a small, sad smile, kissing her temple.

They stayed in silence, time ticking by slowly and too fast for Peggy’s liking. It wasn’t until his watch chimed, making them both jumps did they slowly pull away from one another. Suddenly remembering there was food there, her stomach growled loudly and he gave her a look.

“You’re starving, you should’ve said something. Come here.”

Dishing out fried rice and orange chicken, Steve sat beside her, using a pair of chopsticks to slowly eat his rice. It wasn’t the reunion dinner she imagined, but it was theirs.

“Did Natasha send you?” She asked after a long minute.

“She talked me into my senses. She-she’s right… we don’t know what the hell is going on, how the hell you came here to be or-or if this will even last…” His voice faltered on that one, her heart clenching. “But I-I should grab it while it lasts.”

“I’m not leaving,” Peggy found herself whispering, Steve smirking at the determination in her tone.

Steve snorted into his bite of rice, choking when she gently hit his chest. “What? Are you going to fight Thanos yourself?”

“Maybe. And get you to shave that damn beard while we’re at it.”

Behind it, she can see the puppy dog pout that he was trying to get her attention with. She ignored it in favor of a bite of her food.

“I like my beard.”

“Mhm, darling.”

“You-I…” Steve found himself suddenly staring down at the rice, poking it around with the chopsticks. “You called me darling.”

Damnit, if he didn’t know how to make her heart flutter. She set her utensils down and turned to look at him, laying a hand on his thigh. “I did because you are my darling. The beard...suits you, it’s just...I am not used to it. The last I saw…”

“I was a scrumpy man in a too-tight uniform, becoming a human ice sculpture at the bottom of the ocean. Got it.” He grunted when she hit his chest again. “It was a joke, Pegs. A lot changed...too much has changed.”

The wariness in his voice spoke all, it tugged on her heart again. Peggy’s eyes softened as she climbed into his lap and cupped his face between both of her hands. His beard was softer than she imagined and this close, she could tell he put an effort to put aftershave on.

“Then I guess we can only do the right thing and change with it - it’s not like we can go back in time and change things.”

He nuzzled into her touch, leaned so their foreheads touch. A ghost of a smile was on his lips as they kissed.

“I’ve missed you, Pegs. So much.”

“And I, you, darling.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #Infinity Wars

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thecassadilla · 4 years

Text

Pining for the Fjords

Word Count: 5,736/AO3 Link

Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: Kristoff Bjorgman has the ability to bring the dead back to life with the touch of a finger - and only a few rules. After joining forces with a private detective, Kristoff finds himself in a difficult position when he brings his childhood sweetheart, Anna, back from the dead.

The only condition is that they can never touch each other, or else Anna will die, again - but this time, it will be permanent.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Despite feeling quite burned out, I somehow managed to write another fic (I have no self-control). This is a Pushing Daisies!AU. If you haven’t watched the show, I highly recommend it - and if you live in the United States (and possibly elsewhere, but I don’t know for sure), it’s free on cwseed! I can provide a link for anyone who is interested! Pushing Daisies is one of my favorite shows - it’s morbid, grotesque, and mysterious, but also sickly sweet and fairytale-esque. And the visuals and aesthetics are stunning. It’s also from 2007, which is where I’m convinced I left my brain. This fic draws heavily from the source material, but you don’t have to be familiar with it to understand this fic. Will this be continued? I have no idea. I don’t make decisions lol. I hope you enjoy it!

(As a disclaimer/trigger warning, death is spoken about *a lot* in this fic and there is a temporary major character death. If the thought of any of that makes you uncomfortable, I would advise you not to read this fic.)

Pining for the Fjords - a euphemism for death. “Used to describe a dead person or animal as a way of convincing somebody that the corpse is not, in fact, dead,” Urban Dictionary.

Kristoff Bjorgman had a gift. It wasn’t a gift that was nicely packaged with a bow on top, and was rather quite morbid - he could touch someone who had died and bring them back to life. As simple as it sounded, there were terms and conditions that went along with this gift. The first was that he could bring the deceased back to life for one minute only, or someone else would die as a consequence. An eye for an eye, so to speak. The second was that, if he allowed the person he touched to remain alive, he could never touch them again. Or else they would die, again - but this time it would be forever.

He learned about this arrangement the hard way; as a young child, he hadn’t been exposed to death. At the age of ten, while running in a field with his beloved dog, he would learn about death, and subsequently, his gift, the hard way. For, his dog, Sven, would run into the middle of the street and be struck by a semi-truck before his very own eyes.

He would race over to the side of his now-deceased dog, and gently rest a hand on the side of his limp body, only for the dog to become reanimated and jump off the ground. In that moment, he was unaware of the consequences of bringing Sven back to life - not too far away, a squirrel would die in place of Sven.

He returned home that afternoon, with Sven in tow, happily trotting beside him. Across the street from his home lived a pair of sisters; he would often play with the younger of the two, a girl named Anna. In the grand scheme of things, his gift seemed insignificant, for he had fallen in love with Anna. She, herself, was a gift to Kristoff - curious, imaginative, fun, and fearless - and they spent many hours enjoying each other’s company.

As he watched her play with her father on her family’s lawn from his kitchen window, tragedy would strike for the second time that day. His mother, who had a knack for baking pies, would collapse on the kitchen floor, mere inches from him. Suddenly, his newfound gift would once again prove itself useful. He would slowly approach her body and crouch down next to it, hesitantly touching his index finger to his arm. Immediately, she would gasp for air and rise off the ground, completely unaware of what had happened.

Unfortunately, the clock continued to tick away, and once sixty seconds had passed, the first caveat of Kristoff’s gift would make itself known. He watched in silent horror as Anna’s father collapsed on the grass across the street, in front of his helpless friend. An eye for an eye; one life in exchange for another.

The second caveat of Kristoff’s gift would make itself known later that evening; his mother tucked him into bed, and upon placing a goodnight kiss to his forehead, would fall to the floor once again. Only this time, she could not be brought back. And thus he learned that he could never touch a resurrected life, or they would die permanently. It meant he could never pet Sven again. It meant that his mother and Anna’s father became unwitting, and unfortunate, consequences of his gift.

At their respective parent’s funerals, happening just mere feet from each other, Kristoff and Anna, overcome with grief and puppy love, would have their first and only kiss.

Immediately following his mother’s funeral, officials from the state would collect Kristoff and take him away from his life, while Anna would remain in the house across the street from his, with her mother and sister. Kristoff would avoid any and all social attachments, fearing what he’d do if someone else he loved died.

Little did he know, fifteen years later, his life would be turned upside down yet again.

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At the age of twenty-five, Kristoff would find himself in the midst of an unusual business arrangement. Now the owner of a run-down, failing musical instrument shop, and lonely as ever, a chance encounter with a private detective would change his life once again.

Though Kristoff managed to keep his deep secret to himself for nearly a decade and a half, luck would find him in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the alley behind his shop, as he was throwing out garbage, a man would practically fall from the sky - technically, from the roof of the building - and hit his head on the edge of the dumpster. As luck would have it, the dead man would brush against Kristoff and return to life. Unfortunately for the now undead man, he wouldn’t get to live much longer, as Kristoff was constantly reminded of the two caveats to his gift. Unwilling to have a random person in proximity die, with another simple touch the undead man was once again dead. Unfortunately for Kristoff, there was another man on the roof who witnessed the entire thing - Private Detective Olaf Olson.

“So, how long have you been a necromancer?” The detective asked, once they reconvened inside Kristoff’s empty shop.

Kristoff anxiously rubbed the palms of his hands along the sides of his pants and shook his head. “I’m not a necromancer - at least, I don’t think I am. Is that what I am? Oh god.”

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “How long have you been able to raise the dead?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, my whole life?”

“And nobody ever thought to have you tested? Or send you off to the circus?”

“Nobody else knows - except you. And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Mhmm,” Olaf agreed, sucking in his lower lip and giving Kristoff a scrutinizing glare. He motioned around the shop. “How’s business around here, boss?”

“Um, it’s fine,” he answered, nervously.

“Doesn’t seem to be too busy.”

“I mean, it’s not but...it’s fine.”

Olaf raised a hand to his face. “Well, the good news is that I have a business proposal for you.”

Kristoff’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Yeah?”

“You see, everyday in this city, dead people turn up. Sometimes, these people are murdered without an idea as to who killed them. And when this happens, there’s usually a reward for figuring out who the killer is - a big reward. I get us in to see the body, you take advantage of your party trick, and we split the reward fifty-fifty.”

And so, they did. It was easy, albeit dirty, money. The arrangement itself was rather simple; Olaf was made aware of the terms and conditions, and normally the “transactions” went smoothly. The two men were awarded privacy in the morgue, so long as the coroner was paid off, and Kristoff would set his watch for sixty seconds, ask the deceased who killed them, and then promptly return them to being dead. For a few months, it worked really well, and Kristoff was able to keep his struggling business afloat. He was able to justify it all because it brought justice to the bad people of the world. Until the winter morning that everything got flipped on its head.

It was a quiet day in January, and Kristoff was sitting in his apartment, which was situated above his shop. The television was on in the background as he lounged on the couch with a bowl of cereal, his dog Sven on the floor a few feet away. Suddenly, the tone of the news program changed to alert its viewers of breaking news.

“The body of a young woman has been found in a snow bank directly outside of a popular ski resort,” the news reporter announced. “While her name is being withheld at this time, it has been confirmed that she was traveling alone at the time of her death. Officials are still unsure if foul play was involved, or if this was some kind of tragic accident.”

Kristoff’s attention was immediately drawn to the unnamed dead woman. For some reason he couldn’t explain, he had an icy, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach about her. And sure enough, later that day, all of his fears would be confirmed.

It was nearing mid-afternoon when Olaf walked into his empty shop. He was sitting on a stool behind a counter, when the other man walked up and placed a folded newspaper on the counter.

“How’s it going, pal?”

“It’s going,” Kristoff answered, glancing down at the paper.

“You've been keeping up with the news?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “It’s all about that dead girl.”

“Cops think she was murdered - no idea who did it, though. Autopsy said she was suffocated, so she was already dead when they put her in the snow. Big reward.”

“Yeah?” He asked, feigning aloofness.

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “Are you playing stupid?”

“No, why would you think that?”

“Because I just told you that the dead girl was probably murdered and that there was a lot of money to find her killer, and you’re the only one who can find out who that bastard is.”

Kristoff stared blankly at the other man.

“The clock is ticking. They’re hauling her body to the cemetery today.”

“So soon?”

“No friends, one family member. No point in letting her fester. Are you in or not?”

“Do I have a choice?” Kristoff asked drily.

“Good answer. Now let’s get moving, we have a long drive and you need to change your clothes.”

He glanced down at his outfit before standing up and walking around the counter. “Where are we going, exactly?”

“A small town called Arendelle.”

He swallowed, unsure if he heard the detective correctly. “Arendelle?”

“Yeah, are you familiar with it?” Olaf asked, picking his newspaper up off of the counter, folding it up, and tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

Kristoff nodded. “I grew up there. Until I was ten.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready to go back.”

“Do you…?” he started, then trailed off. He was almost afraid to ask.

The other man looked at him pointedly. “Do I what?”

“Her name,” he spit out. “Do you know her name?”

“Anna Andersen.” He pronounced the first “A” in her name incorrectly; pronouncing it like the “a” in “apple” instead of like the “a” in “alms.”

“Anna,” he whispered, correcting the other man’s pronunciation.

The detective cocked an eyebrow. “You know her?”

“She lived across the street from me,” he answered, simply. It wasn’t enough to convince the other man.

“Seems like she was more than just a neighbor.”

“I haven’t seen her since I was ten,” he shrugged, though a profuse blush was spreading across his cheeks.

“Mmhmm,” Olaf acknowledged, though he remained unconvinced. “Well, we better get moving.

And the next thing Kristoff knew, they were on the road. He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up driving, though he was grateful for the distraction. His mind was spinning; he couldn’t believe that she was gone, forever, and worse, that he was going to be forced to have one measly minute with her when he selfishly wanted more. He wasn’t even sure if she’d remember him after so much time had passed - perhaps if she didn’t, it would make it easier on him. And then there was the other problem - should he mention that he’s the reason her father died?

His heart started palpitating as they drove past the cheerfully colored “Welcome to Arendelle” sign, and it only worsened as they pulled up in front of the funeral home. It was so loud that he was positive that Olaf could hear it.

He was overcome with a wave of nausea as he stood unmoving by the car, staring up at the looming building. It wasn’t until Olaf, now a few feet ahead, cleared his throat and motioned for him to follow. He did, shoving his hands into his pockets. He watched as the detective handed the funeral director a wad of cash, and the two men were led to a room at the end of the hallway.

“Would you mind if I did this one alone?” Kristoff asked, once the funeral director was out of earshot. They hadn’t entered the room yet, and were standing in front of the still-closed door. “Because I knew her?”

“What could you possibly have to say to her that you can’t say in front of me?” Olaf shot back, obviously offended by Kristoff’s proposal. “We’re here to find out who killed her.”

“I know, but she was my friend,” he begged, a few beads of sweat starting to gather by his hairline. “I could use the closure.”

“Fine,” Olaf grumbled. “But you better ask who killed her first.”

“I will.”

“And remember, you have one minute. Not a second longer.” His tone was stern, and he raised a finger as a warning.

“I know the rules,” Kristoff assured him. “Wait in the car?”

Olaf muttered something under his breath, but willingly walked away from the situation. Kristoff held his breath and pushed open the door to the room; it was small, and in the center was a shiny white casket. He hesitantly approached it, trying to gain his composure. The entire thing was surreal; he felt like this was some kind of twisted dream. Acknowledging the fact that he didn’t have much time, he opened the casket and looked down.

She looked ethereal; just like he remembered, but obviously much older. She was wearing an off-white lace dress, her hair parted down the center and each half was neatly draped over her shoulders. Bile rose in his throat as he stared at her, unsure if he could do it. Though it would bring her killer to justice, he was also being selfish.

After another moment or two of looking at her, he decided it was time. He set the timer on his watch, slowly brought his trembling hand to her face, and delicately tapped her cheek with his index finger before taking a step back. She sucked in a breath of air and her eyes flew open. And then she jumped out of the casket.

“I’ll kill you!” She yelled, grabbing the first thing she could - which just so happened to be a candelabra off the fireplace next to the coffin.

“Anna, stop!” He begged, bringing his hands up to his face to protect it in case she decided to throw the candelabra at him. “It’s me - Kristoff - from across the street.”

The look of anger that had shrouded her face quickly faded away and a look of relief washed over her instead. Her hand went limp and the candelabra fell to the floor. “Kristoff.”

She took a few steps toward him with her arms reached forward, prepared to pull him into a hug. He stepped backwards, eventually colliding with the wall. “You can’t touch me,” he warned.

“Oh.” Her arms fell to her sides and she glanced over at the coffin. “That’s mine isn’t it?”

He swallowed. “Yes. Do you know what happened?”

“I mean, I was hoping that it was all a dream. That I wasn’t suffocated to death with a pillow.”

“You were,” he frowned. “I’m really sorry.”

She blinked a few times, placing a hand on the edge of the casket, but she didn’t say anything.

So, he spoke again. The clock was ticking. “While there’s a lot I’m sure we both want to say, we have less than a minute. So, I have to ask - do you know who killed you, Anna?”

She shook her head, her eyes cast downward. “I don’t - I was sleeping. I didn’t wake up until the pillow was over my face. I’m sorry.”

Kristoff exhaled harshly, feeling defeated. They wouldn’t be able to bring her killer to justice. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“How much time do I have left?”

He glanced down at his watch. “Forty seconds, give or take.”

She gave him a sad smile. “That’s not enough, I have so much to say. All those years, I wondered what happened to you. You just disappeared. I kept hoping that you would come back, but...you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, I -” he was trying to find the words, but it was difficult. He had so much that he wanted to say. None of this was fair. “The state took me away and sold the house.”

“Well, since I don’t have much time left, I just want you to know that I missed you a lot. And I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I never stopped thinking about you, either,” he confessed. “Life just...wasn’t the same without you.”

“I wish things would’ve worked out differently,” she sighed. “My time is almost up, isn’t it?”

He took another look at his watch before nodding solemnly. Twenty-five seconds.

“I’m glad that you were the last person I got to see before...you know.” She huffed a nervous laugh. “Um, if it’s not too much, could you tell my sister that I’m sorry? And that I love her?”

“Of course,” he promised, though he wasn’t sure if Elsa would be keen to visitors.

“And I hope this isn’t too forward, considering we haven’t seen each other in so long, but I want you to know that I always had feelings for you, and they never went away.”

“Me too,” he said, quickly, a blush creeping over his face. “I mean, my feelings for you never went away, either.”

“How does this work?” She asked. “You just touch me again, and that’s it?”

“Yeah,” he answered, wishing that it wouldn’t have to be this way.

She nodded once, inhaling deeply. “Okay.”

He took a slow step toward her. They had less than ten seconds left now.

“You could kiss me,” she blurted out suddenly. “That probably sounds crazy but it would bookend everything. You would be my first kiss and my last kiss.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he nodded, willing to grant her her dying wish. She closed her eyes, and he leaned down, ready to press his lips to hers and then promptly catch her limp body. But instead, he took a step backwards.

She opened her eyes and looked over at him. “What are you doing? Isn’t my minute up?”

Though he was grotesquely aware of the consequences, he had already made his decision. He didn’t want to live his life without her, as selfish as that was. “What if you didn’t have to die?”

“That would definitely be preferable,” she said, a look of relief washing over her features.

“Okay, look, I’m not supposed to do this because there are grave consequences,” he said in one quick breath. “But I can’t just let you die, again.”

“What are the consequences?”

He closed his eyes, ashamed to admit the truth. “Someone else has to die in your place.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“But it’s already too late,” he assured her, waving his hands rapidly. “I know it’s selfish of me, but I’m not ready to let you go.”

The corners of her lips quirked up slightly. “I’m not ready to let you go, either.”

“Great,” he huffed a sigh of relief. “We have a lot to talk about, though. And we have to get out of here.”

“I can’t just walk out of here,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’m supposed to be dead.”

He glanced rapidly around the room. “The casket. You have to get back inside.”

“Okay,” she agreed, climbing back in.

“Now, just lay really still,” he directed her. “I’m going to follow the hearse to the cemetery.”

She nodded, and he closed the lid. Wiping the sweat off of his brow, he hastily opened the door and raced out of the funeral home. As expected, Olaf was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, reading his newspaper.

“How did it go?” The detective asked, as soon as Kristoff hopped into the car.

“Uh, it went well.”

Olaf cocked his head. “Did you find out who killed her?”

“No, she didn’t know,” he answered, as he started the car.

“Of course not,” the detective groaned. “Did you get your closure, at least?”

He was staring at his rearview mirror, trying to catch the moment the hearse pulled away from the building. “Sort of.”

“Why aren’t you driving?”

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to go to the cemetery and see the burial.”

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, sorry. It shouldn’t take long.”

“I knew I should’ve driven,” he sneered, unable to hide his annoyance.

A few moments later, the hearse was driving down the street and Kristoff was following closely behind. The cemetery was a short drive away, and because no one was going to be attending the burial, that in itself was going to be quick. He had to come up with a plan.

The two men sat in the car and watched as the casket was brought over to the plot of land where it was going to be buried. Finally, Kristoff got out of the car and walked over, just in time to see it get lowered a few feet into the ground.

“Hey,” he said to the gravediggers, who turned their attention away from the shovels in their hands. He pointed towards the entrance of the cemetery. “There were some kids near the front. I think they were defacing one of the stones.”

The two men quickly dropped their shovels and raced toward the pickup truck parked a few feet away from Kristoff’s car. As soon as they drove off, he got onto the ground and opened the lid to the casket.

“Thanks for coming back,” Anna smiled.

“After all that, you thought I was going to just leave you here?”

“No,” she giggled. “I’m just really happy you came back.”

He smiled down at her. “Come on, we have to go.”

He wished he could help her out, but luckily, it wasn’t a difficult climb. As soon as she was back on the grass, he closed the lid to the casket.

“My car is right over there,” he said, pointing at the old car. He still hadn’t decided how he was going to explain this to Olaf, but it didn’t matter at this point. It was already done.

She squinted at it. “Is someone in your car?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s Olaf. He’s my...business partner?” What he also hadn’t thought of was that he was going to have to explain who Olaf was to her and the unorthodox partnership that they had arranged. He decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.

The two of them climbed into the car, Kristoff in the driver’s seat and Anna in the backseat. Upon hearing both doors close, the formerly distracted Olaf turned his attention to the new passenger, and then to Kristoff.

“Kristoff,” he said, a fake smile plastered across his face. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Anna,” she answered cheerfully.

The fake smile remained. “Why is the dead girl in your car and not in the ground?”

“I needed closure,” Kristoff shrugged.

“Your closure was supposed to last sixty seconds.”

“To be fair,” Anna chimed in, “there is a lot of history here. A minute wasn’t long enough.”

Kristoff nodded along with her statement.

The detective was seething. “Does she know about the terms and conditions that came along with her newfound gift of life? That someone else died in her place?”

“She’s aware,” Anna answered, referring to herself in third person. “She’s not thrilled about it, but she’s extremely grateful that she’s alive.”

“And you both acknowledge that I could’ve been the one to die in her place, right?”

“That’s why I asked you to wait in the car,” Kristoff explained.

“You were planning on doing this all along?!”

“No! Yes? I don’t know, I wanted options!” He exclaimed, starting to feel a little flustered. “Look, it’s over. I’m going to start driving now, we all need to go home and sleep on this.”

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The drive back was a lot tamer than the few minutes they spent sitting in the cemetery. Olaf spent most of the drive muttering to himself, clearly upset that he could’ve been a casualty of Kristoff’s impulsivity. Once they reached the music shop, well past dark, Olaf parted ways without saying a word to either of them, and Kristoff brought Anna upstairs to his apartment. As soon as they entered, Sven perked his head up.

“Oh, you have a dog!” She exclaimed, rushing over to him and immediately dropping to her knees. “He looks just like Sven.”

“That is Sven,” he said, dropping his keys on the small table by the front door.

“You saved him, too?”

“He was the first,” Kristoff explained. “That’s how I…found out about all of this.”

“I see,” she said, smothering the dog with pets and kisses. “You can’t touch him either?”

He stood on the opposite side of the room, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. “No. But, um, we kind of have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed, looking over at him. “So I can’t touch you at all, right?”

He shook his head. “No. Even the slightest touch would mean that you die permanently.”

“No hugs?”

“No hugs,” he answered.

“But what if you need a hug?” She looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“I haven’t hugged anyone in years, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Fine, what if I need a hug?”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry?” Was all that he could offer.

“And that means no kisses, too, right?”

He shook his head again, suddenly aware that the tips of his ears were burning. “No kisses.”

“Darn,” she said, softly, gently stroking Sven’s fur.

“You can stay here as long as you want,” he promised. “It’ll take a little getting used to, but I’d love the company. Or, you can leave. It’s your second chance at life and you can live it however you want to.”

“Don’t be silly,” she cooed. “I don’t want to leave. The last time I had the desire to leave somewhere, I literally died.” She annunciated each syllable in the world “literally” as if to stress the importance of its meaning.

“I just don’t want you to think that you’re obligated to stay,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders. “You can have my bed until we can figure out some kind of a sleeping arrangement.”

“I wish sharing was an option,” she said absently, continuing to focus on the dog. “But you don’t have to give up your bed for me.”

“I insist,” he said. He walked over to the couch and plopped down on it. “I’m so tired, I’m just going to stay right here.”

“You’re still wearing your suit,” she pointed out.

“Don’t care. I know you don’t have a change of clothes with you, so feel free to wear something of mine.”

“You want me to go through your drawers?”

“Don’t know what you’d be comf…” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to finish the sentence.

Anna couldn’t help but smile at him; he certainly didn’t look comfortable laying on the couch like that, but she could only imagine how drained he felt.

But an hour later, she, too, would feel incredibly drained. She had yet to change out of the dress she was supposed to be buried in, and was sitting on the edge of Kristoff’s bed, watching television. The entire situation was difficult for her to wrap her head around, and it didn’t help that nearly every station was covering her story. She was grateful that Elsa had chosen a photo to release where she didn’t quite look like herself; a photo from when she was nineteen and had dyed her hair blonde. She was glad that it had been five years and the blonde was gone and she hoped that the world wouldn’t recognize her as the “dead girl” if she went out into it.

She had never expected to see her own face on television in such a morbid, dismal way. Dubbed a “lonely tourist,” a part of her regretted ever venturing out to that ski resort in the first place. She wished she would’ve been content with the life she was living; just her and Elsa, in their childhood home. Reading books and tending to her garden, but always craving something more. She wondered how Elsa had been coping with all of this; she never ventured out of the house, due to her rampant fear of social situations. Anna was practically her caretaker, and now she’d have no one. She wished she could see her sister again. She wished she’d never left in the first place.

Snapping out of her daydream and turning her attention back to the TV, the news reporters were now talking about how her murderer was still on the lam, and the large reward for information pertaining to the case. Upon hearing about the reward, she had a flashback to the viewing room; one of the first things that Kristoff had asked her was if she knew who murdered her. Was he out for the reward money? And the man in his car, Olaf, his “business partner.” What type of business were they running? Suddenly feeling very restless and alone, she turned off the television and went back into the living room.

She perched herself on the coffee table, a safe distance from the couch, and grabbed the remote. Gently, she poked Kristoff’s arm with it.

“Kristoff?” She whispered.

“Huh?” He stirred, his eyes barely opening. He wiped at his mouth and sat up slightly. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really,” she lied, but then decided honesty was more valuable. “Well, maybe a little. They were talking about me on TV.”

“What were they saying?”

“They’re calling me a ‘lonely tourist.’ They’re not wrong, but it’s weird.”

He was now wide awake, focusing solely on her. “I can only imagine.”

“Apparently there’s a big reward for finding the person who murdered me.”

The color drained from his face when she said that. “Yeah?”

She inhaled deeply. “You said Olaf was your business partner. What kind of business do you two run?”

“I have the music shop right downstairs,” he admitted, though it was a half-truth. That wasn't what she was asking.

“And Olaf?”

“He’s a private detective.”

“I guess I should just come out and say it,” she said, slightly frustrated at his hesitance. “Was I an opportunity for monetary gain?”

His eyebrows furrowed together. “Pardon?”

“The reward money. In that first minute, you made it a point to ask me who killed me. Was it for the reward money?”

“No!” He insisted. “It was for justice. I mean, the only reason I found out that it was you was because of Olaf and the reward. I had already agreed to go before he told me that it was you.”

“So, your business is to go to funerals, wake the dead, find out who killed them, and collect the reward money?”

“Yeah,” he answered sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Are you mad at me?”

She blinked. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to be mad when I’m sitting here in front of you and I should be six feet under.”

“I swear, I only go in with good intentions. To see justice be served. Killers behind bars. The reward money is a bonus; it’s how I keep the music shop in business.”

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“Don’t be - it’s a little shady. The entire thing was Olaf’s idea. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and he saw me accidentally bring a man back to life and then immediately re-dead him. If he hadn’t seen me, I’d just be a guy with an ability that no one else knows about.”

“And I’d be in the ground,” she added.

He huffed out a nervous laugh. “Yeah.”

“Part of me wishes that I’d never gone to that stupid ski resort. Why did I have to hate my life? Why couldn’t I just be satisfied with the life I had?”

He paused briefly before responding. “I think it’s natural for us to want to try new things.”

“I feel bad for my poor sister. She barely functioned when I was home, and she warned me about leaving, and now she thinks that I’m dead.” She buried her face in her hands.

“What about your mother?”

“She died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

She pulled her hands away from her face and ran her fingers through her hair. “You wouldn’t have known. Please don’t think that I’m not happy to be here, because I really am thrilled to be alive and with you, and I’m not taking any of this for granted. It just feels so...strange. Confusing.”

He nodded in agreement. “It will be an adjustment for both of us. There’s still a lot we have to talk about.” The truth about her father was one of the things that he knew he’d have to bring up eventually, though he was absolutely dreading the thought of it.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I just needed someone to talk to.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her, laying back against the couch. “But you should try to get some sleep. It was kind of a crazy day for you.”

She placed her hands flat on her thighs for a minute before standing up. “Thank you again for rescuing me, today.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “And Anna? I just want you to know that I’d make the same decision again in a heartbeat. No doubt in my mind.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “Goodnight, Kristoff.”

“Goodnight.”

And so she retreated to his bedroom, keeping her dress on and laying on top of his sheets. She still felt a bit restless, and so she turned to face the wall on the left side of the bed, lifted up her left arm and pressed her palm flatly against it.

Just on the other side of the wall, Kristoff had turned to face the inside of the couch. Unable to sleep and unaware that Anna was doing the same, he raised his right arm and placed his hand against the wall.

Unbeknownst to either of them, without the wall as a barrier of protection, their hands would be touching.

#kristanna #kristanna fanfic #anna #kristoff bjorgman #human!olaf #dog!sven #frozen #frozen fic #pushing daisies!au #please don't ask me how i managed to write 5k+ words #i really don't know what came over me #but i wrote it in 3 days #i just really love pushing daisies and the parallels write themselves #also i'm lowkey really proud of this #my writing

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callmeunstable · 4 years

Text

Angels & Demons - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Characters: Reader, Godling, Healer

Summary: She finds herself in the middle of a unknown forest after falling asleep. It seems like a normal forest until she gets to meet a mystical creature that welcomes her in a different world.

Warnings: Monsters, Cursing, Blood

Words: 2.000+

A/N: Hey! This is the second part of my The Witcher Fic. I accidentally deleted this part so I had to reupload ot. Yes I cried, but thankfully I still had the draft saved on my laptop.

Disclaimer: GIF’s and PNG’s are taken from Tumblr and are not mine! Credits to the creators!

Tags: @marvelbrat @charliestuff

Song: I couldn’t find the original one sooo

Absently, Alva wondered if most of the monsters were meant to be as beautiful and kind as James, or if this one was an exception to the rule, her mind struggled to hold on to one thought, with a whole new world opening in front of her.

“I know the healer of the village on the other side of the forest. She’s nice. She brings fruits to me from time to time. She will help you.” James hopped in front of her leading the way out of the woods.

She couldn’t believe anything her eyes captured. There are bad creatures. According to the Godling, there are a lot of them. The boy explained to her, that “Drowners” inhabit both natural and artificial bodies of water, from rivers and lakes to mill ponds and city sewers. It is commonly thought that these creatures are drowned men, somehow arisen from the dead to prey on the living. This opinion is as widespread as it is false, for the beasts are another post-Conjunction relict.

She couldn’t believe that this Godling just was a boy but knowing such crucial things about this life. She remembered James talking about the powers he has, that’s how he was able to save her.

“Hey, play some more of your music, please? I love the sound of it and we have to walk some time.” The Godling begged and gave his best puppy face.

She grabbed her phone and she had an idea. Maybe she was able to call or text her dad? Letting him know she’s okay. She wasn’t sure if this was the best idea she ever had, but still better than making him believe she was dead.

No signal. Of course.

“Music, please.”

She pressed the icons on her phone monotonously and a random song started playing.

“Oh dear, oh dear, I’m sorry

That you grew up so soon

A cold year and no high school parties

I’ve been drinking alone

Oh, I’ve been drinking alone”

“A blessing to my ears. What's the name of this bard?” The Godling started dancing along while walking in front of the girl.

“What is a bard?” These questions came automatically out of her mouth, wanting to know everything about this world.

Knowledge is power. Even in a world like this. If she knows what she has to be careful about, she can start to protect herself.

“You know the man and women writing songs and these lovely texts of legends, stories of their personal experiences, or their imaginations. I don’t care what they are about. I care about the melodies. I love the tunes.” James seemed to drift off in a state where he was admiring the artists and musicians at this time the whole way out of the woods.

He specifically talked about a Bard called Priscilla. A young woman famous for her poetry.

“So, don't fear, don’t fear their warnings

They’re bitterer than most

4 years of driving across the country

For empty seats at their shows

And they’ve been drinking alone.”

Less and fewer trees came along their way and after some more minutes, a village became visible. Still far away but the girl decided to turn off the music which was rewarded with an angry look of the Godling.

“Her cottage isn’t in the village. It's right here!”

He took a sharp turn between some trees and as told, a small cabin was revealed in front of them. It was old. Looked like a typical middle-aged, self-made cottage. Random kinds of stones were piled upon each other, connected by something that seemed to be a kind of cement. A small chimney was built on top and was busy blowing smoke out of it.

“Savilla! I want to show you, my new friend.” The boy shouted and Alva begged it was quiet enough so no one around could hear them. She wasn’t ready to meet anyone in this world, at least for now.

The old wooden door of the cottage opened and a middle-aged woman stepped out of the house. She was beautiful. Her Long black hair was braided down to the small waist of hers. Her long dress was colored with a dark wood green tone. A small V-neck covered her chest mostly and the butterfly sleeves made her look like a princess. A less fancy princess but a gorgeous one.

“Hello, my lovely James. How can I help you today?” Savilla had a warm smile on her face and holding her arms out for e hug.

The Godling happily jumped into her arms, to just leave them a couple of seconds later to point hysterically at Alva.

“This is my friend Alva. She got lost in my forest and a Drowner hit her. I think shes not from hear so she needs your help.”

Savilla laid her eyes on the small girl for the first time. Silently analyzing every single part of her. At this moment Alva realized that she was a unicorn in this world. Her clothes looked completely different from Safillas and James’. She was wearing a red lumberjacket that revealed her sports bra. Some pair of sporty leggings rested on her legs and short sneakers tied on her feet. Her favorite outfit for hiking. At least her fake leather bag seemed to fit the surroundings.

It wasn’t hard to tell that if the person in front of her wasn’t a cosplayer of Lord of the Rings, she had to be stuck in some kind of middle age century.

“Yes, she's not from here. I can tell.” The firm look of the women changed into a friendly smile. “Come in, I think it’s the best if no one sees you like this.”

Both Alva and James entered the cabin. Inside it was beautiful. Flower and herbs were growing every in countless pottery. An out of stone made kitchen area filled the rest of the room with a cozy fireplace at the opposite wall. Different kinds of fabric and papers stuck to the wall. It was filled with colors and smells that made you feel instantly relaxed, at least if you’re a person like Alva.

“You don’t seem to be in a lot of pain.”, stated Safilla while grabbing a wooden chair and placing it in front of her, guiding her to sit down.

“It’s pretty numb right now. It was worse about an hour ago.” Alva tried to give off a normal impression. But what is normal in this world.

er “That what I was inferred already. You seem to be in shock. Your body numbed itself to protect you from the pain.” While investigating the big scratch she explaining typical injuries caused by Drowners.

“You’re lucky that you had James by your side. He’s a loyal soul.” The healer tossed an apple to the boy who caught it happily.

Savilla mixed some unfamiliar herbs and bandaged it up with a clean cloth.

“It should heal fast, it's not a deep cut. You are lucky.”

The women put everything back in place and then grabbed a stool herself.

“Where are you from?”, she asked.

Where was she from actually? Maybe similar countries still exist?

“Originally my family comes from Sweden but I live in the USA at the moment.” The girl explained but ended up not receiving the reaction she wanted.

“I never heard of a place like that. I traveled a lot through Cintra, Temeria, and Lyria. How did you end up here?”

The girl got quiet. She didn’t want to cause any trouble. She was a stranger to this world. How much corruption was she able to cause?

Alva felt a hand on her shoulder. Savilla gently pat her and gave her a motherly smile.

“Look dear, I’m not here to hurt you. I can see you disturbed, even traumatized. You have no idea how you got access to this world, have you?”

The girl started to tear up and found herself in a warm hug of the healer. She couldn’t help herself but at this moment everything that was built up throughout the day suddenly burst out of her.

Every breath felt like acid burning heart throat, inflaming her lungs. Her heart felt like somebody was squeezing out every single emotion trapped in there. Like a sharp blade that is cutting straight through her chest.

“Mark my words, one day will come when you finally realize that fate is inevitable. One day you will get passed all this pain and realize it was a lesson learned for a better future, for a better you. You believe that this was an accident. But in our world, everything happens for a reason.” Savilla didn’t break the contact because she knew that this girl needed it. This wasn’t the first time something like this happened. The same happened decades ago. When the monsters first got into this dimension.

“I can teach you if you let me.”

Alva lifted her head and looked at the healer.

“I can teach you how to survive in this world until we figure it a way how to get you back. You just need to let me help you.”

“How do you know?” The girl was confused, more confused than she was, to begin with. How much does this woman know?

“This is not the first time a portal opened on accident. What we need to figure out is, if this indeed was an accident or if you have a mission you have to fulfill. I will help you. That’s my duty. Let me explain. I’m a mage.”

Savilla explained to Alva that mages are basically what she knows as a witch. Only rare individuals have the potential to become mages and many of those with this potential are doomed to madness. Unless the individual in question - known as a source - learns to control their power quickly, he or she may end up a half-insane, slobbering oracle. That is why schools of sorcery were created, where talented children study for many years, acquiring knowledge and mastering magical skills. Because of their powers, mages age more slowly than ordinary people. Savilla herself attended a school called Aretuza. But she didn’t believe in their morals so she left and lives on her own.

Mages can extract magical energy from the four elements, transport themselves long distances and heal, as well as kill, in the blink of an eye. They have extensive scientific and political knowledge; in the latter respect, many mages are the equals of rulers.

A witch that is connected so some kind of rule book.

“Know you know about me, but for now we need to get you out of your clothes. They reveal your true identity. There are people out there who will view you as dangerous and they’ll get scared. We need to give you a new persona. But for now, let’s start easy. No one will look for you because James took care of that. New clothes will at least give you the appearance of our dimension.”

Savilla walked in a different room and you could her searching sounds. Fabrics got thrown around after her steps came closer again.

As she walked into the room she showed off a dress similar to hers. The dress was white and it had some floral symbols embroidered in the fabric. Her sleeves were also long and wide, almost touching the ground. The White of the dress was mostly protected by a moss green light coat that had a corset on the front. The white dress was strapless but unseen due to the green coat. On top of that Savilla brought her some flat sandals.

“I can give you some pants to wear underneath the dress if you’d like. Is more efficient when you have to move quickly.” The mage was happy she could assist that young girl. She finally had a purpose to assist to.

Alva only nodded along, speechless by the kindness the woman was offering her.

Savilla walked up to her with a hairbrush and put her hair into different styles. “And maybe we can do something with your hair, putting it up or braid-“, she hesitated the moment when she was putting her hair up. “I think it looks fitting already.”

Quickly brushing Alva's hair down again.

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1dffexchange · 5 years

Photo

Warm Blood

To: Eriza @booksncoffee

From: Natasha @wokeuptired

Summary: This is ridiculous, and Carver knows it.

She doesn’t even know his name, and he’s all she can think about. One kiss at an office Christmas party—an office where she doesn’t even work most of the time—and she can’t get him off her mind.

It doesn’t help that she’s spending a week working in said office, sitting at a neat freak’s desk and trying not to leave fingerprints behind while looking over her shoulder every five minutes to see if he—Mistletoe Boy—is at the coffee pot.

She’s beginning to think she dreamed him up.

ONE.

Carver Cantrell is not somebody who makes stupid decisions.

That is the first thing she would want you to know about her: this is not her modus operandus. She is not the kind of girl who buys a plane ticket and jets off to Paris on a whim. She doesn’t purchase expensive articles of clothing without stalking them online for a few weeks first. The wildest evening she has is when she orders something different from the Chinese place on the corner. Nobody would ever call her a wild child.

And she certainly doesn’t kiss boys she’s never met under the mistletoe at the office holiday party just because she feels like it.

Except she just did.

“Wow.”

Carver pulls back, unsure of which of them said that, her or the guy she’s just been locking lips with. Her heart is beating so loud she can hear it in her ears, and she can feel her blood hot in her cheeks. His eyes are bright blue, so blue she can feel them in her toes.

Which is a feeling she’s never felt before. Crazy, because Carver thought, right before this second, that she’d felt them all.

Her emotions have tended towards the severe ever since she was a kid. Imagine six year-old Carver, throwing a fit at the supermarket because her favorite cereal was out of stock, and her helpless mother, standing three feet away with her hands up so that other shoppers wouldn’t assume she was the cause of the tantrum. Skip to middle school, when Carver didn’t eat for two days after she and her best friend—the same Jess whom she roomed with in college, walked beside at graduation, and is currently accompanying to this party—had a fight. Just last month, she watched a Hallmark movie where a woman reunited with her teenage love after twenty-five years, and she sobbed for an hour.

Anger, sadness, happiness—Carver has always felt them all in extremes. She’s learned over the years to take deep breaths until the emotions calm down so she can figure out which ones to listen to before she acts, but they’re still there, nonetheless.

Like two minutes ago, when she turned a corner on her way to the restroom and walked right into the sturdy chest of the guy who currently has his arms wrapped around her. He sparked something in her right away, and the inches they’ve just put between them have done nothing to dampen that flame.

“Sorry,” he says. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips warm. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

This is where she should say something like, “Fuck that, do it again!” but her mind draws a blank. Her brain is too busy considering his accent, which is decidedly not California surfer boy like every boy she’s dated since she moved here a year ago, to come up with something witty to fire back at him.

“Hey, Car—”

She looks over my shoulder to see Jess coming around the corner. She has a plate in her hand piled high with Carver’s weakness: angel food cake, the literal food of angels.

“I found this,” she says, holding it out. “And you. And, you’re busy, apparently—who’s this?”

Carver follows her gaze back to the boy in question, who’s pushing a hand through his hair and grinning. His hair looks like it’s straight out of a shampoo commercial. She should’ve touched it during their kiss. What a missed opportunity.

“Sorry, I—I was actually on my way out,” he says. His eyes return to her as he brushes a fingertip across her cheek before stepping back. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she manages before he turns away and disappears around the corner.

Jess grabs her elbow. “What was that? Who was that?”

Carver lets her tug her back into the party. “I have no idea.”

Five minutes later, Carver’s shoveling angel food cake into her mouth and recounting the last hour as Jess rambles on with the office manager, Kayla. Michael Buble’s Christmas album plays in the background, stockings hang on the wall, and a small Christmas tree sits in the corner, but nothing can disguise the fact that this is an office. A well-designed office, but an office nonetheless.

Jess has worked for West & Up for a year, and Carver’s going on month three. West & Up is one of those newer companies that’s popped up as interior design has become accessible to anybody with internet access. It’s part online home goods retailer (think Wayfair but a bit less fashionable), part interior design firm. Jess does web design, and Carver crunch numbers.

They both work in the Century City office, where a bunch of nerds in glasses occupy cubicles in a decidedly less fashionable building right next to the freeway. Carver had never been to the Santa Monica office before tonight, and she’s definitely been missing out, because not only can you smell the ocean from the balcony, cute boys also work here.

One cute boy in particular.

Carver has never felt such an instant connection with someone before, and she can already tell it’s going to consume me. This is how her mind works: it can only focus on one thing at a time, and that one thing nearly always becomes an obsession. That’s why she’s so good at math. Her OCD keeps her doing problems over and over again until she’s sure they’re perfect. And her OCD will no doubt have her going over that kiss incessantly.

“Carver, it’s going to be so great to have you here in January,” Kayla says. “I’m so happy you said yes.”

Carver swallows a bite of angel food cake and fakes a smile. Truth be told, she’s not looking forward to her temporary reassignment to the Santa Monica office. She hates changes to her routine, and she hates things that aren’t her choice. Kayla says she agreed, but when her supervisor presented it to her, it didn’t really seem like saying no was an option.

“I’m really excited to see how things work around here,” she says, which is about the best answer she can manage without the unrelenting guilt she always feels when she lies. She doesn’t tell Kayla she doesn’t understand why she can’t continue her internal audit of the company from her own cubicle.

She has a slight suspicion that she’s going to arrive for her first day in January and be instructed to count the pens in the copy room.

TWO.

Kayla Warner is not the kind of person who takes no for an answer.

This is typically something that works in Niall’s favor, because Kayla is the office manager and when she’s on your side, she gets shit done. Niall befriended her on his first day at West & Up, and ever since, she’s been going to war for him. She got him the best cubicle (aka the one furthest from the break room), always makes sure he leaves promptly at five, even if she has to drag him out herself, and never fails to order his favorite brand of pens. Usually Kayla Warner is his hero.

But now that she’s decided to be his matchmaker, he’s moving her decidedly into the “villain” column. Once Kayla has an idea in her head, there’s absolutely no talking her out of it. Which doesn’t mean Niall isn’t going to try.

THIS IS A BAD IDEA.

Niall watches as three little dots appear on his phone, showing that Kayla is responding to his all-caps message. He never should’ve told her about Mistletoe Girl in the first place, but Kayla could tell that something was up when he suddenly appeared way more interested in Kayla’s incessant stream of office gossip than he used to be. Kayla practically sniffed it on him.

“You kissed somebody at the Christmas party, didn’t you?” she demanded, the question mark only there out of politeness. Kayla’s like a bloodhound when it comes to secrets, especially secrets related to the affairs of the heart.

Not that Niall’s heart is involved here. He really doesn’t want it to be, because it shouldn’t be, not after one kiss. Even if it was the most perfect kiss he’s ever experienced in all his years of kissing–barely a decade, so he wouldn’t exactly call himself an expert, but he knows a good kiss when he sees it.

Kayla’s still typing, so Niall navigates away from the text message thread and opens Instagram. He’d scoured the employee profiles a zillion times over the past few weeks searching for Mistletoe Girl, looking at all the Carters and Carolyns and Carlas that work for the company, and he couldn’t find her. But now, thanks to Kayla, he knows her name, her actual name, so he can stalk her on social media.

Carver Cantrell. Her profile is private, so Niall can’t see much beyond her bio and her profile picture (her smiling face pressed up against a puppy’s much smaller one), but it’s gratifying to know that she’s real. It’s a relief to know that he didn’t imagine the whole thing. And it’s nice to know that she loves dogs. Loving dogs is a good sign.

Niall doesn’t blame himself for questioning his sanity. It was like something out of a romance film, wasn’t it? Kayla’s obsessed with those things, “Love Actually” and “27 Dresses” and all that. It’s not every day that you’re on the way back from the bathroom at the dreaded office Christmas party when a cute girl crashes into you right under the mistletoe. And it’s certainly not every day that a kiss with a stranger makes you reexamine the way you look at the world.

Kayla’s reply rolls in, distracting Niall from reading Carver’s bio for the hundredth time.

THIS IS A GREAT IDEA

YOU CAN LEAVE HER CHOCOLATE AND FLIRTY NOTES ON YOUR DESK

I’M A FUCKING GENIUS

The messages arrive one after the other in rapid succession. Kayla texts like she talks: without breathing. It overwhelmed Niall when they first met, the speed at which Kayla thinks and talks and moves, but he’s slightly less intimidated by her now. Slightly.

Sighing, Niall clicks through to the text thread and hits the call button. It only rings once before Kayla picks up.

“You’re not going to be able to talk me out of this,” she says. Something clangs in the background; she’s probably making cookies again.

“It’s a terrible idea in every way,” Niall says. He stands from the couch and goes into the kitchen. Speaking with Kayla always makes him feel like he’s not doing enough. Like he ought to be doing at least 6 things simultaneously while talking to her. “You know I hate people in my workspace. It’s like you’re making us move in together, and we’ve barely even spoken.”

Kayla laughs. “Exactly. This is a great trial run. I’m pretty sure she’s just as much of a neat freak as you are, but if she’s not, you’ll be able to tell, and then you can abort the mission.”

“I want to abort the mission already.” Niall opens the fridge and starts unloading it of containers full of leftovers that should’ve been thrown out weeks ago. “You’re the one who’s not letting me.”

“That’s because I am your best friend and I care about your well-being.”

“But—”

“I’m not hearing it, Niall Horan,” Kayla says. “Now stop pretending to clean your kitchen, hang up the phone, and figure out a plan for tomorrow, will you? I can’t do everything for you.”

“Are you sure you can’t?” Niall asks. “Because you’ve done the rest of this for me. So I think you could just—”

“Don’t be facetious, Niall, it doesn’t suit you,” Kayla says before hanging up.

Sometimes Kayla reminds Niall of his mother, and since she’s far away across the Atlantic Ocean, he doesn’t really mind that.

Except right now. Right now, it’s driving him crazy.

THREE.

On Monday, January 7th, Carver parks her car in the lot outside West & Up’s Santa Monica office. She’s ten minutes early, and she fully intends to use all ten of those minutes to have a panic attack in her car.

There’s a post-it on her dashboard that, at her therapist’s suggestion, reads, “EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE,” and she repeats that aloud to herself a few times, but it doesn’t help. She makes a list in her mind of all the things that could go wrong. Maybe her cubicle neighbor will smell like baloney sandwiches. Maybe she will embarrass herself in front of the CEO. Or, maybe, worst of all, she might run into Mistletoe Boy.

She’s done her best over the past couple of weeks to forget about him, but she hasn’t gotten very far. And Jess’s constant mentioning of the kiss hasn’t helped things. She’s scoured the employee profiles on the company website for the guy with the soft lips and the foreign accent that Carver kissed at the Christmas party, and she’s come up empty.

“He must be one of the ones with no photo,” Jess has insisted multiple times.

“Or maybe he doesn’t work at West & Up anymore,” Carver told Jess last night as she was waxing on about how her chances of running into him again were about to increase exponentially. “Or maybe he never did, and he was crashing the party and that’s why he ducked away so fast. Or maybe he’s engaged to one of the girls from HR, or—”

“Or maybe you’re looking for excuses,” Jess said, jabbing an elbow into Carver’s side. They were watching “Set It Up” on Netflix for the zillionth time, and Jess had paused in speaking all the lines along with the actors to remind Carver that she may have watched her chance at one true love walk out the door a few weeks back. “Do not hide in your cubicle for the next week, okay? You need to, like, make yourself visible.”

“How do you suppose I do that?”

“Go to the coffee machine, like, all the time. Introduce yourself to everyone you can.” Jess turned to Carver, her eyes wide, her tone serious. “And, for the love of God, make a fucking move if you see him again.”

Carver tries not to think about that right now, as she squints into the sunlight and curse herself, again, for leaving the house without her sunglasses this morning, as that’s basically a death sentence in Los Angeles.

She reads her post-it again: “EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE.”

Then she takes a deep breath and opens the car door.

Kayla practically pounces on her when the elevator doors open on the third floor. She checks Carver in and shows her where the restroom is and babbles the entire time about how great her New Year’s was and how she hopes Carver’s was great too and did she watch the ball drop this year?

“You can use Horan’s desk,” she says, leading Carver through the office. It’s an open plan, desks everywhere, most of them totally cluttered. Paper everywhere, knicknacks, dusty computer screens. But the desk Kayla guides Carver to is wiped clean. “He’s one of our architects. He’s on site all week.”

“You’re sure he won’t mind?” Carver runs her eyes over the spotless desktop. There’s a pothos plant in a terra cotta pot next to a black mug holding six identical black pens, and that’s it. The only bit of personalization she can spot is a dinosaur sticker on the corner of the computer monitor. Horan, whoever he is, clearly values cleanliness over, well, pretty much everything else.

It actually reminds Carver a little bit of her workspace, but at least she’s got more than one plant.

“Oh, yeah,” Kayla says. “He won’t care. He might come by in the evenings, though, so you should be out of here by five if you can, and don’t leave anything lying around. He’s a bit of a neat freak.”

“Right.” Carver pushes the keyboard out of the way and puts her laptop on the desk. “I’ll be out of here by five.”

“You know where I am if you need anything. See you at lunch!” Kayla calls as she disappears around the corner

Carver opens her laptop and clicks through her email to the spreadsheets the company wants her to look through. Luckily she hasn’t been asked to count any pencils yet, but the day is still young.

By lunch time, her fingers hurt and her eyes are dry. Kayla takes her to a salad place across the street, and Carver forces myself to choke down kale topped with assorted vegetables. When she was younger, she believed that she’d magically develop a taste for salad once she reached her twenties, since it’s what twenty-something professionals always ate for lunch on tv shows, but it hasn’t happened yet.

Then she returns to Horan’s immaculate cubicle, puts her earbuds in, and zones into the work. She used to think that she’d have to hate her job in her twenties, just as she’d have to love salads, but the truth is, she loves it. She loves columns of numbers and when there’s a knot in the data she has to untangle. She loves losing herself in it, because in the numbers there is always an answer.

In life, there often aren’t answers, and she’s not a fan of ambiguity.

Before she leaves, she can’t resist opening the top drawer to see if that’s where the owner of this desk hides his mess. But, no, it’s just as organized as the surface. Plastic bins hold pens, paperclips, pencils, and post-its, all in separate sections. There isn’t a thing out of place. She wonders if he uses dinner plates with dividers, too.

Carver snags a bright pink post-it out of the drawer and scrawls a quick note on it before sticking it to the monitor.

Thanks for letting me use your desk. I tried not to leave too many fingerprints. Sorry for snooping through your drawer, but I wanted to find your organizational weakness. Apparently you don’t have any. Congratulations. - Carver

FOUR.

Niall chickened out.

After all that berating last night and a pep talk via text from Kayla this morning, he chickened out. He didn’t leave anything at his desk for Carver, and, to top it off, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Every day at the Wilson project is a busy day, and today was no exception. This morning, two of the guys ripped out the old range and found faulty wiring, which is a remodel nightmare second only to flooding. That should’ve been enough to distract Niall, but it wasn’t. He pulled out a pen to make some notes and wondered what kind of pens Carver likes. He looked at granite samples with the Wilsons and wondered if Carver would think the black countertop would darken the room.

And then he thought about how fucked up it was that he was thinking about what Carver would think, considering he doesn’t even know her. Fucked up and creepy.

But here he is anyway, driving to the office in 5 o’clock traffic to see if Carver’s left any mark on his cuble. A very small, slightly creepy part of him is hoping he’ll be able to catch a trace of her perfume lingering in the air. He doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe scents, but he smelled it on her the night they kissed, and he knows he’ll recognize it instantly if he smells it again.

Kayla’s already left, which means he doesn’t have to face an interrogation when he passes her desk. The entire office is pretty much cleared out, which is how he likes it. Honestly,if he could work from home, he would. Other people are exhausting.

Which is part of the reason he’s afraid, he thinks, of meeting Carver. He’s idealized her so much in his head, but what if when he meets her, really meets her, she’s boring? Or annoying or just plain exhausting? What if spending time with her makes him wish he were spending time alone? The disappointment could crush him.

Which is why it’s easier to pretend he doesn’t care.

As he rounds the corner towards his cubicle, his heartbeat quickens, which is a total betrayal of his attempts to be nonchalant about this whole thing. He takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t help. Then his desk comes to view.

Nothing appears to be amiss. His chair is tucked in just the way he likes it, all of his black pens are still in their black mug, and his dinosaur sticker hasn’t moved. But—

Wait, what is that?

Niall grabs the post-it off the monitor and brings it up to his face. Is this Carver’s handwriting? It’s much neater than he’d expected based on the way her hair was slightly askew at the party. One’s general upkeep, he’s noticed, tends to belay their handwriting, and their handwriting reflects their level of organizational mastery.

Niall’s own hair is always flawless.

He reads the note to himself a couple of times, smiling at the mention of fingerprints. Apparently Carver has a sense of humor. And she might like post-its just as much as he does.

Hmm. Niall takes a seat at his desk, opens the drawer for another post-it, and grabs a pen. Time to come up with something clever to say in response.

FIVE.

In the morning, there’s a new post-it note on the monitor. Carver grins when she first sees it, because she’s always loved the idea of penpals, letters exchanged between strangers. She’s never had one herself, but novels always made it seem like you could tell your friend who lived worlds away things you couldn’t tell your BFF who lived next door.

Carver doesn’t have any such expectations of Niall Horan, of course, but it still makes her a bit giddy to see that he’s written her back.

But that feeling disappears as soon as she reads the note.

Thanks for your note, and thanks for keeping my desk clean. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I don’t really mind fingerprints. As long as there aren’t too many. And you keep them off the computer screen. You have neat handwriting, though, so I think I can live with you using my desk for the week. - Niall

Carver turns the post-it face-down on the desk. Maybe she was slightly rude in my post-it, but his message is ruder. “I can live with you using my desk for a week”—who talks to a stranger like that? It might be sarcasm, but he should know better than to be sarcastic in a note. There’s no room for nuance in a post-it note, they’re much too small.

What Carver wants to say in response is also much too long for a post-it note, so she yanks open the top drawer in search of notepaper. Her desk back in her cubicle hosts a variety of cute notepads and post-its, but all she can find in Niall’s desk is a small yellow legal pad. Despite its unattractiveness, it’ll have to do.

She does decorate the corner with a giant flower, though, courtesy of one of Niall’s five identical black pens.

Dear Niall,

Thanks for your note. I appreciate that you can live with me using your desk for a week, although I’d like you to know that I’d gladly vacate for another workspace if given the chance, since you seem like an asshole. Is that your weakness? You don’t know how to be nice to strangers on post-it notes? Good luck with that. I hope you enjoy being alone.

Note written—or at least started; Carver thinks she might have more to say later—she shoves it under Niall’s keyboard and opens her laptop. She’ll leave it there for the day, keeping it in the back of her mind, and right before she leaves, she’ll decided whether or not to leave it.

No impulsive decisions, even in anger.

Except maybe she should be impulsive. Maybe she should stand up for herself, even though there may be negative consequences, like an even ruder reply tomorrow, or a chastising by Kayla or even a meeting with HR for inter-office harassment.

Carver goes back and forth about it all morning. She spends a bit of mental energy regretting leaving a note at all yesterday, and then a bit more energy wishing she’d asked Kayla more questions about the owner of the desk. Like, is he a nutcase? Is he obsessed with fingerprints? Because he catalogues them? Because he’s a crazy, stalking, murdering, psychopath?

By lunch time, Carver feels like she’s bursting at the seams. Kayla shows up for lunch, and Carver practically leaps out of her seat. They barely make it out of the building before Carver brings it up.

“Hey, so this Horan guy? What’s he like?”

Kayla looks over her shoulder as she pushes out the front door of the building and into the sunlight. “Why do you ask?”

Carver wrinkles her nose at Kayla’s smile. “He left me a super rude note.”

The smile drops instantly. “What?”

Carver squints into the sunlight and stops to fish her sunglasses out of her purse. “Yeah,” she says to Kayla. “I left him a note last night, thanking him for letting me use his desk and whatnot, and I come in this morning to a note that’s like, don’t leave too many fingerprints and I won’t kill you.”

“What? There’s no way Niall wrote that,” Kayla says.

Carver follows her into the same salad place as yesterday. “I mean, I may’ve exaggerated a little. But that was the gist of it.”

The conversation pauses as Carver orders her food—the same salad as yesterday—but Kayla brings it up again as soon as the two of them are seated. The restaurant isn’t exactly quiet, but Kayla is not the kind of person, Carver’s beginning to realize, who lets a loud space hinder her conversation.

“Niall is not an asshole, I promise,” Kayla says. She extracts a metal straw out of her bag and sticks it in her drink. “He’s just not that good at people.”

“What?”

Kayla shrugs. “Listen, I’ve been friends with him for three years. He doesn’t always make the best first impression. Like, he tries, but it’s hard for him.”

What? Carver thinks the question this time instead of voicing it. She understands being socially awkward, but the best thing about written correspondence is that you can revise it a thousand times before sending it off (or, as it were, leaving it taped to a monitor).

“Like, okay,” Kayla continues. “He probably thought he was being funny. But he’s such a dingbat he doesn’t realize that sarcasm doesn’t translate when it’s written down, or he thought he was making a joke and he didn’t realize that he’s not funny. Like, he’s really not funny.”

Carver tries to think of something to say in response, but she finds herself coming up empty. Kayla’s trying to apologize for Niall, but Carver’s realizing that she really doesn’t want to hear it. Luckily her salad arrives, saving her. She shoves a forkful of lettuce into her mouth and chews as Kayla rambles on.

Finally, Kayla pauses, so Carver asks what she really wants to know. “So, do you think I should write back?”

Kayla’s fork hovers in the air on its way to her mouth. “Do you want to write back?”

Carver blinks. “I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Well, I’m a firm believer that you should do whatever feels right to you,” Kayla says, setting her fork down. “So maybe what you need to do is figure out what it is you want to do.”

Carver nods, repeating that over and over in her head until it starts to make sense.

At least, the words make sense. She still has no idea whether or not she should leave the note.

SIX.

“I wrote her a note.”

“Yeah, I know, you idiot,” Kayla says sharply. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

Niall nearly drops his phone. That would be especially bad considering he’s currently squatting over a puddle of water in the middle of the Wilson construction site. He’s downgrading it from kitchen to construction site, since every 10 minutes a new problem arises that requires something else to be ripped out or torn up. The drywall is gone, revealing rotting studs, and when they pulled up the tile this morning, they found mold in the floorboards.

This house isn’t even old. Niall doesn’t understand it.

But he has to deal with it nonetheless.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“She asked me about you,” Kayla says. She’s whispering, like maybe she’s sitting at her desk right now and doesn’t want to be overheard. “Hold on, let me go outside.”

Niall stands up and turns his back on the other guys staring hopelessly into the puddle. He walks into the Wilsons’ backyard, which borders a strip of land known for being a mountain lion hotspot. When he first moved to LA, Niall was fascinated with them, with P-22 and his brave freeway crossings (both the 405 and the 101) and his adventures around Griffith Park. Experts say that P-22 will probably never leave Griffith Park’s 8 square miles, which is only half a victory. He’ll be safe because he’s the only male mountain lion living there, but he’ll never mate. His line will end with him.

Niall isn’t nearly as pessimistic about his own future, but he does have a few things in common with P-22. In a city surrounded by people, sometimes he feels like he’s living on an island. Anyone who wants to get to him will have to cross treacherous territory.

“Okay, I’m back,” Kayla says in Niall’s ear. “Now tell me what the fuck you were thinking, please.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” Niall says.

“Your note! You were a total asshole. At lunch today Carver was like, who is this guy and what the heck is his problem? And she’s totally right. What the heck is your problem?”

Right now Niall’s problem is that Kayla doesn’t seem to be planning on letting him get a word in. “Well—”

“Stop talking. I’ll tell you what’s wrong with you. You don’t know how to be nice to people because you are afraid of making authentic connections because then someone might get close enough to see that you’re as perfect as you pretend to be.”

“Hey—”

“It’s not your turn, idiot. You need to fix this now, because you haven’t completely ruined your chances, but you’re close, I can tell you that. I tried to tell Carver that you’re just bad at first impressions, but she wasn’t hearing it. Like, she literally zoned out and stopped listening to me.”

Niall feels like doing that right now. He also feels like jumping headfirst into the Wilsons’ pool, or throwing his phone in so the water can drown out Kayla’s voice. Or maybe he should leave his phone here and walk off into the forest and make a new home with P-22. The mountain lion won’t judge him. It might attack him, but it certainly won’t do so while calling him an idiot.

No, Niall can do that himself. He definitely feels stupid right now. He thought he was being witty and maybe even flirty, but clearly none of that came across. Instead he made himself look like an asshole, and he’s probably completely ruined his chances with Carver, who—he can admit this to himself, even if he hasn’t said it out loud—might be the one girl who could save him from a P-22 fate.

“So figure out a plan, Niall, because Carver is probably sitting at your desk right now writing a note to you about how much of a dickhead you’re being, and your deserve it!” Final words voiced, Kayla hangs up.

Niall sighs, allows himself a moment of self-pity, and opens the notes app on his phone to make a list.

Before end of work day:

- Call plumber

- Figure out how to explain further delay to Wilsons

- Call Wilsons, explain, apologize

- File report with office

By tomorrow AM:

- Fix Carver problem

- Refill gas tank

- Sleep?

It’s shaping up to be a busy afternoon.

SEVEN.

Carver wakes up the next morning feeling perfectly normal, and then she remembers what she decided. Before she left the office, she pulled her note out from underneath Niall’s keyboard, signed her name to it with a flourish, and taped it to his monitor.

She sits up in bed, overcome with a wave of nausea. Assuming Niall went to the office last night, which he most likely did because he seems like the kind of person who follows his routines religiously, without exception, there is going to be a note waiting for her, and it’s probably not going to be a nice one.

But when she gets to Niall’s desk, there’s nothing there. Her note is gone, but there isn’t a new one.

Fuck. There are so many things this could mean. Maybe he read her note and was so annoyed by it that he decided she wasn’t worth responding to. Maybe he laughed and crumbled it up into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder as he walked through the parking lot to his car. Or maybe a janitor threw it away and he never even saw it.

Carver pushes it out of her mind, though, because she has work to do. There are numbers to be crunched and data to be sorted and there is plenty to distract her anxious mind.

But she can’t get the note out of her head. How did he react to her note? Why didn’t he respond? Is she a terrible person for leaving it in the first place?

Just before 11 AM, Kayla pops her head over the edge of the cubicle, a mug of coffee in her hands. “Morning,” she says. “Can you do me a favor?”

Carver minimizes my spreadsheet and grins. “Of course. I need a break anyway.” That isn’t an overstatement. With all the circles her brain has been going in, Carver wonders how she managed to get anything done this morning.

“Great.” Kayla holds out a manila envelope. “Can you take an early lunch and drop this off for Horan at the Wilson house?”

Drop this off for Horan. Oh, shit.

“Of course,” Carver says, but meanwhile her brain is having a heart attack. She hates spur of the moment plans, she hates going to places she’s never been before, and mostly she hates that she might be about to confront Niall in a place she’s never been before, where she can’t control anything.

She can’t say any of that out loud, though, so she takes the envelope from Kayla and puts the address Kayla gives her into Google maps on her phone. She blasts the “Mamma Mia” soundtrack on the drive, but it doesn’t help calm her nerves.

Even though the house isn’t geographically that far away, it takes nearly half an hour to get there, which must be why Kayla told Carver she wouldn’t expect her back before two. Los Angeles traffic is no exaggeration.

She parks her car at the end of a long driveway and pushes her sunglasses onto her head. She remembered them this morning, but she doesn’t think they’re going to save her from whatever is going to happen at the top of the drive.

The house is the first thing that shocks her. It’s beautiful, and that’s not a term she typically uses to describe architecture. She may work for West & Co., but she’s a math geek. She’s a human computer. She doesn’t have a natural taste for beautiful construction, but this she recognizes. It’s two stories and massive but not obviously so, because the facade has varying heights and it doesn’t look like an imposing box. She can tell, though, that the people who live here are loaded. There are mediterranean stones and slightly tinted window panes and she can just bet that the back of the house is entirely glass to give the residents the best possible view of the hills behind.

She walks through a beautifully manicured front yard to find that the front door is open, so she goes inside without knocking. The front hall is two stories high, and a living room with mid-century modern furniture is on the right. It looks like it belongs in an Architectural Digest celebrity home tour on youtube. There is no clutter anywhere, like maybe no one lives in this house and it’s actually just used for filming and photoshoots.

Carver follows the sound of hammers through to the kitchen at the back of the house. There are floor to ceiling windows, just like she expected, and even though the kitchen is entirely deconstructed—it looks like custom cabinets are currently being installed—she can already tell it’s going to be beautiful.

“Hey, Horan!”

Shit. Carver follows the direction of the shout and steps further into the kitchen, and that’s when she sees him.

He’s outside, so they’re separated by a massive kitchen and a sliding glass door, but it’s definitely him.

It’s Mistletoe Boy.

It can’t be, though, right? He can’t be Niall. Niall can’t be him. They can’t be the same person.

But then somebody shouts, “Horan!” again and Mistletoe Boy turns and, oh shit, he’s coming this way, and Carver definitely cannot deal with this right now. She backtracks out of the house and grabs a construction worker who’s just coming in.

“Can you give this to Horan?” she asks, holding out the envelope. The guy wrinkles his brow, but he shrugs and takes the envelope. “Thanks,” Carver says, and then she practically runs to her car.

Carver starts the engine as she’s buckling her seatbelt (even though her mother taught her never to do that), and she drives out of the neighborhood with her heart attempting to beat its way out of her chest. She pulls into the first parking lot she sees, shuts off her car, and leans her head on the dashboard.

Of all the things to happen today, it had to be this. She had to find out that Mistletoe Boy and desk asshole Niall Horan are the same person, and that had to happen at his construction sight and it had to be a total surprise, and now she’s sitting in her car in a parking lot outside of a Whole Foods and this is fucking Beverly Hills or something (Carver really doesn’t know where the fuck she is right now) and she’s probably going to get arrested for having a panic attack in her car.

Deep breaths, Carver, her voice of reason tells her, and she leans her head back and tries to listen. Her dashboard post-it tells her that “EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE” but that doesn’t seem realistic right now.

Nonetheless, Carver says it out loud.

“Everything will be fine,” she tells the steering wheel.

“Everything will be fine,” she tells her bitten-down fingernails.

“Everything will be fine,” she tells her purse, haphazardly thrown on the floor on the passenger’s side as she rushed away from the Wilson house.

“Everything will be fine,” she tells herself.

Then someone knocks on her window, causing her to shriek.

Everything is not going to be fine.

EIGHT.

Carver looks up, eyes wide, and Niall regrets this immediately. When he saw Carver rushing to her car looking as though she’d seen a ghost, he knew instantly that she saw him, realized who he was, and panicked. His brain told him that if he let her go now, he might never see her again.

So he followed her out. He jumped in his truck and trailed her car out of the Wilsons’ fancy neighborhood and into the parking lot of a Whole Foods. Whole Foods is a store that he generally tries to avoid because the prices are ridiculous and all of the Prius drivers in the parking lot give him dirty looks when he parks his truck, but none of that matters right now.

What does matter is Carver, and she looks like she would rather cry than talk to him.

Too bad, because for the first time in a long time, Niall doesn’t want to walk away from this problem.

He meets Carver’s eyes and waves. She grimaces, so he tries to smile. Carver closes her eyes, takes a visible deep breath, and reaches for the door handle.

“Shit.” Niall takes a step back, out of her way, and tries not to panic. He didn’t really think this part through. What the hell is he going to say to this girl? This girl of his dreams? The girl who is now standing in front of him, leaning against her closed car door, looking up at him like he’s already broken her heart.

Damn, what a mess. Niall hates messes.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Carver says. She looks exactly as he remembered her: green eyes, blond wavy hair, oversize glasses. Just as cute as she was before Christmas.

He said hi, then she said hi, so it’s his turn again. Unfortunately, his mind is blank.

This was much easier in December, when they were standing in the dark under the mistletoe and Niall didn’t yet know that the kiss they were about to share would haunt him for several weeks following.

“Sorry about the note I left you,” Carver says, saving his ass. “I shouldn’t have written any of that.”

Niall shakes his head. “No, I deserved it. I’m a terrible note writer.”

Carver bites her lip; she’s either holding back a smile or a frown. “You could definitely use some practice.” It’s definitely a smile.

Niall smiles back. “Will you let me try again tomorrow?”

Carver nods.

NINE.

Dear Carver,

This is what I should’ve written in the first note: I knew that you were using my desk, and by that I mean that I remember you from the Christmas party. I’m glad that you’re using my desk, but what I’d like better is if you’d go out on a date with me. I think you’re kind and funny and sweet, and I want to learn more about you.

Best,

Niall

TEN.

Dear Niall,

Yes.

- Carver

#1dff #exchanges

146 notes · View notes

wannawrite · 6 years

Text

In Your Area

who?: Yuehua’s / Idol Producer’s Zhu Zhengting genre: 🌸 type: bullet point - I’m sorry I promise scenarios soon

blog navigator.

neighbours! AU

• you aren’t quite sure what to make of your new neighbour but hey, he’s nice and pretty cute

Zhengting is so boyfriend material no one understands how I feel :”) I thought Justin was immortalised as my YH baby but Zhengting popped off ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ Thanks for requesting fluff anon!! I really needed it

- Admin L

a/n: sorry this took like two decades and can y’all vote if you want us to start writing for IP in 2018. drop us a message/ask!!!

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to be and credit goes to their original owners.

everything written is purely fictional

ZT’s diary: (/^▽^)/ moving day

what. the. hell. is. happening.

the dream that played out like a perfect movie scene in your head was VERY rudely interrupted and ruined by the ‘clings’ and ‘clongs’ scarring your ears

wrapping your stuffed pillow around your ears weren’t providing much help either

‘you’ve got to be joking...’

you groaned, realising there was, in fact, a new neighbour moving into that empty apartment next door

eyes closed, paradise fought to overpower your current reality

it was drifting in the distance, just out of reach, beckoning you to immerse yourself in the paradigm once again

but a loud crash resounded through the atmosphere and shattered whatever serenity there was

muttering complaints under your breath, you peeled your eyes open and slowly clambered out of bed

sickening...who moves in at this unholy hour

it was 9am

I found out that sleeping until 9am isn’t a hard task I thought it to be

do these people have a conscience? are they not aware that weekends are time for people to sleep in?

while complaints and rants ran through your mind, your cousin and flatmate, Wenjun, threw the door open and barged into the room

‘WAKE UP!’

his face displayed an enthusiastic puppy-like smile. ‘WE HAVE NEW NEIGHBOURS!’

great

‘wonderful, I can tell. Now, go give them some gifts and greet them,’ you tell Wenjun before flipping over and pulling your blanket over your head

‘NO! You come with me! Aren’t you supposed to be the older cousin?’ he complains. ‘It’s rude if I go alone.’

saying hi isn’t exactly the first thing I want to do

you sigh. ‘Okay, okay but later. We should give them some time to settle in. Besides, we need time to get a proper gift.’

I just really need a couple more hours of sleep why can’t you get any hints Wenjun :((((

huh maybe this is why you’re still single even though all of the college kids are in love with you

I follow the confessions page on ig, you don’t even know

oblivious, really

‘just go get something appropriate from the mall nearby.’ you shove Wenjun, eyes still shut and head still resting on your pillow

‘we have to choose it together so it’s more meaningful,’ he says. ‘sleep can wait.’

this child knows nothing about junior year in college

lucky sophomore

sunlight begins to gently flitter in from the curtains, you almost enjoy the warm sensation as it lulls you back to sleep

that is before Wenjun decides to be a little pest and yanks the material apart, bathing your room in ample sunlight

it tickles your face and burns into your eyes, effectively driving you out of bed

‘OKAY! Just let me get ready first,’ you huff grumpily. ‘Wait till your mother hears about this.’

Wenjun just sticks his tongue out and prances off

brat

hastily and half asleep, you pull on a random college camp shirt and walk out in your sleeping shorts

‘get me my sunglasses like qinfen’s and car keys,’ you order Wenjun since it is HIS fault for making me arise so early

I can’t let Mrs Lau on the 8th floor see me like this...geez that nosy auntie

she’ll tell this whole block for sure

I know she secretly tracks our movement to arrive at the lift and the exact time when the gossip is fresh

she really has too much time on her hands being the newest third wife of her current sugar daddy of a husband

I hope our new neighbours aren’t like her...I also pray they know what they’re getting themselves into by moving into this condominium

if we get just ONE more snobby, rich, gossip digger neighbour, I’ll gladly pay for that 11.2 million mansion Wenjun was looking at

there’s no denying the estate you and your cousin resided in was a rich one, flourishing with the younger generation of old-money families

it didn’t help that prestigious universities were planted nearby

okay fine, you and Wenjun lived big because of your family

but y’all weren’t stuck up, gossipy or as gold-digging, as the majority of the neighbours you had encountered

the new ones next door better not be any of the above

click click click

Wenjen pops his head over your shoulder to stare at your phone. ‘Why are you searching up that mansion? Are we moving house?’

your eyes swivel to check if anyone was lurking in the corridor before whispering in a hushed tone, ‘No but we will be if our new neighbours are anything like the existing ones.’

Wenjun sighs and shakes his head dramatically but his lips quirk up playfully

‘I’m sure they aren’t that terrible. C’mon, let me get my new Gucci sneakers.’

remind me why my kid cousin wants to wear his 2K shoes to the mall smh

no one is going to see them

besides, isn’t Gucci a little overexposed nowadays?

yes, I went to the local Gucci store to check it was like 1.9K? but round it up

pushing the gate open, you manoeuvre your way around the piles of cardboard boxes

simple cardboard boxes

nothing at all like the usual sleek black boxes embellished with the family name in silver calligraphy font

all of which ended up in the trash bin afterwards

dumb

flip flop flip flop

‘...could you at least get a new pair of...marketing slippers?’ Wenjun pointed out, blinking in horror at your worn out slippers, the left side’s sole was loose and threatening to fall

‘oh stuff it rich kid. These were from Rubi and there was a sale!’

that led to a family bicker over slippers right outside your front door

the two of you were so engrossed that you didn’t hear the pairs of footsteps drawing closer

‘um hi?’

you froze

Wenjun had a faster reaction time. He beamed brightly and cleared his throat. ‘Hi! Welcome to the neighbourhood! Have you guys eaten yet?’

吃饭了吗？

your eyes scanned over the two boys who would now occupy the last flat at the end of the corridor

they both had dyed hair just in differing colours, one blonde and the other jet black

both were tall

one seemed older and more athletic than the other

‘I’m Bi Wenjun and this,’ Wenjun paused to shove you the in ribs. ‘Is my cousin, Y/N.’

the boy with the blonde hair spoke first, smiling to reveal pearly whites. ‘I’m Zhu Zhengting and he’s my brother, Justin.’

not related but YH are so close they’re all fam

OH SHIT

AM I SERIOUSLY GREETING TWO HOT NEIGHBOURS IN MY PYJAMAS AND FLIP FLOPS

WITH MY HAIR LOOKING LIKE A FRICKIN BIRD’S NEST

at least there are Coach sunglasses perched on my head,,,not so bad not so bad

Wenjun had already started making small talk. Just smile and wave!

THIS IS SO HUMILIATING

I’M NEVER WEARING THIS SHIRT AGAIN

i need new shorts and slippers pronto!

• UGH

‘oh! China School of Fine Arts! I go to the same college,’ Zhengting suddenly spoke up.

at which Justin rolled his eyes at. ‘Pfp, not for a term. Don’t worry if you don’t recognise him, he never actually attends classes.’

Zhengting blushed and elbowed Justin away

hm cute

‘oh cool,’ your tone was clipped and you feigned disinterest, trying to get your burning face to cool off. ‘I suppose I’ll see you around.’

m o v e you tried to send a telepathic message to Wenjun

I CAN’T STAND ANOTHER SECOND BEING IN ZHENGTING’S PRESENCE WHEN I LOOK LIKE SHIT

times Wenjun has been oblivious today: 2

the wait seemed excruciating and when Wenjun finally bid them goodbye, you took of in the direction of the lift with a carelessly wave

it was good that your neighbours were people around your age

just so happened that Zhengting was incredibly good looking and currently the only dateable candidate available

IF YOU CHANGED YOUR OUTFIT, THINGS WOULD HAVE TURNED OUT SO MUCH BETTER

all drive long, Wenjun kept teasing you about your appearance or gushing about how well he and Justin got along

he insisted on gifting them the most expensive hamper from Tangs

you didn’t see a need for two young adults to have bone strengthening essences meant for elderly

but they were complementary in the particular hamper so...

supermarket was particularly quiet that morning

and it seemed to be offering an alarming amount of samples and candy promotions

candy was more suitable for a high schooler and college student but you weren’t up to argue with Wenjun

he seemed too whipped for Zhengting and Justin

‘I need ice cream to get over this,’ you moaned. ‘There’s no way I can ever look our neighbours in the eye again!’

call me overdramatic but you would have done the same

I haven’t even had breakfast yet

stupid Wenjun

I think it’s low blood sugar that’s causing me to be like this

‘sweetie, it’s 10.30am in the morning and you are on a strict diet. Remember that detox tea you ordered a week ago?’ Wenjun reminded, shovelling free samples of chocolate chip cookies into his mouth

why does my kid cousin always have a point...but my day was absolutely terrible!

‘whatever, f*ck it. I’ll just pass those to Cheng Cheng.’ It was your turn to sample those cookies

don’t you just love supermarkets?

you didn’t think the back seat of your car would be stocked with boxes of biscuits

morning supermarket runs are interesting in the Bi household

luckily, there were no snooping neighbours in the lift lobby to witness the Bi cousins haul about a dozen plastic bags filled with questionable groceries

such as croutons without a leaf of a lettuce

lift buttons were nearly hidden from view by white plastic

bring your own bags to shop!

there were no longer any boxes lining the corridors when you guys arrived home

thank god

imagine going all American Ninja Warrior with arms full of grocery bags

there was a lot of packing going on in the kitchen

and ripping open almost all of the cookie boxes by the time y’all were done

Wenjun went over to lend a helping hand while you hibernated in your room, reflecting over your outfit choice and eat more

it was just sheet embarrassment that plagued your mind and influenced your actions

might as well be all comfortable and sappy around them because they’ve seen me in my pyjamas

AND ZHENGTING IS PROBABLY MY BATCHMATE

i hope he doesn’t follow the school’s confession page

those thoughts made you crunch down on the biscuit with unnecessary strength

ding dong

the melodious - rather generic - chime of your doorbell broke your train of miserable thoughts

‘hamper delivery!’

as you were still clad in your wonderful get up, you opened the door wide enough for only your head to be seen

‘send it next door,’ you hissed quietly. ‘Say it’s from your new neighbours with love. Thanks!’

oh my god

WITH LOVE?

HEY ZHENGTING AND JUSTIN I LOVE YOU

WENJUN IS GOING TO LAUGH HIS HEAD OFF LIKE A DAMN HYENA

you slammed the door faster than the delivery man’s reply and raced to your bedroom

‘i’m ruined.’

*cue dramatic Disney princess sob fest on bed*

a few heart-pounding minutes passed, you strained your ears for any sign of reaction

unfortunately, people paid for soundproofed walls around here

yet, there seemed to be a sound coming from outside

out of curiosity, you peeled away your balcony door to take a look

lo and behold

Zhengting was standing on the balcony, tossing small pebbles onto yours

visual reference: Songyi and Minjoon’s apartment balconies from Kdrama ‘My Love From The Star’

is...he really wasting the decorative pebbles...

SHIT I’M STILL IN THE SAME OUTFIT NO NO NO

battling a blush of complete mortification, you gestured for him to say something

‘Thanks for the hamper!’ Zhengting yelled with a bright smile. ‘We appreciate it!’

on impulse, your lips stretched into a grin. ‘No problem! Welcome to the neighbourhood!’

he looked at the small trench of bamboo and pebbles separating the two balconies and then back at you

please please please stop judging my outfit

‘hopefully, we’ll see each other a lot.’

HUH?

he shot one last smile, maybe a soft chuckle before stepping back into his room

his words confused you

maybe he meant to spite your outfit choice

or maybe he genuinely felt like seeing you more often

that’s because he’s new and probably needs someone to show him around the estate and would rather have a friendly next-door neighbour do it than the security guard

get your head out of your ass he doesn’t mean it like that

hmm...

ZT’s diary: one 1/2 months of living with Justin╰( ･ ᗜ ･ )╯

over the course of a month, you learnt that Zhengting and Justin were very inconsiderate neighbours

there was always some loud music playing from their flat at every time of the day

fortunately for them, you and Wenjun were the only neighbours on the right side of the 12th floor and you didn’t really care much to complain

the resident care committee was rather useless anyway

regardless, their music still annoyed and distracted you to an extent

according to Wenjun their apartment was larger and thus, they had extra rooms to build a dance studio in

that was how you found out Zheng Ting was a dance major in CSFA

he just had to be under Professor Zhou or Professor Cheng

Cheng xiao’s real name is so cute omg

at least he was in a different major

you wondered if he knew Professor Wang

Professor Wang knew everybody and Zhengting looked like a popular kind of guy

+ the guy who actually liked his major

while it was touching to see how hard he worked, you wished ‘I am the sheep’ wasn’t stuck in your head while you were studying for a quiz

the clock read 2am, that was the time you finally snapped

popping panadol pills wasn’t going to take a headache away

the soundproofing here sucks! it only works whenever it wants to

shockingly, Wenjun was tucked away in his dreamland, wrapped up in a cocoon of his blankets and oblivious to the world that surrounded him

you grabbed your phone and stormed to your neighbour’s apartment, pounding furiously on the front door

it took a while but the music stopped playing and a few clicks of locks could be heard

‘hi,’Zheng Ting panted out, wiping the sweat that was beading on his forehead. ‘It’s about the noise level isn’t it?’

suddenly, the want to yell at him was gone

he! was! just! too! knowing!

it made you feel a bit ashamed

not to mention that his white shirt was slowly becoming see-through

you clasped your hands together, grinning.

‘No! Not at all! I-I j-just wanted to find out the song you’re dancing to.’

lie lie lie?

Zhengting seemed to ponder about that for a moment before beckoning you to enter his apartment

not shady at all

let’s go

be sure to take off your flip flops before entering houses

each room was slightly larger than the ones in your home

surprisingly, the house was kept neat and tidy, minus the odd one or two boxes that had yet to be unpacked

‘where’s Justin?’

the lack of the younger boy’s presence in the flat noticeable

Zhengting revealed that Justin was away for a week visiting his family

no wonder Wenjun seemed a bit sulkier

Zhengting pushed open the door to his cosy little dance studio

honestly, it was spacious enough to have a group of dancers practice

very well lit by the fluorescent spotlights and outfitted with a panel of mirrors

there was even a ballet bar on the other side

and Zhengting had hidden this treasure how?

his personal studio was comparable to the ones at school

suddenly, you came face to face with an iPad, an iTunes tab open

‘these are all the songs I’ve been choreographing to recently, and uh...loudly as well,’ Zhengting said, handing you the device

all of his fancy music equipment was organised in a small shelf

cut

he’s so damn invested into his dancing career

‘why are you working so hard for?’ you wondered out loud

even during finals, Professor Wang never gave your class so many assignments to work on

this is so inaccurate ^ btw, don’t take my word for anything

Zhengting nibbled on his bottom lip and nervously readjusted his headband. Pink flushed his cheeks as he took a step closer to you

with his lips so close to your face, you could feel the ba-bumps of your heart quickening

if I tell you, will you promise not to reveal it to anyone else?’

so secretive

you nodded, eager to find out what Zhengting was hiding

‘all these are for the school’s dance showcase. this year is more exclusive and getting a seat in the audience is invite-only,’ he disclosed. ‘Scouts from all the prestigious academies are coming to take a look.’

a small gasp of astonishment left your mouth, hands flying into a congratulatory clap

*iPad falls from your grip and your reflexes aren’t quick enough*

forget the iPad

rip screen

ZT has a million more in some boxes anyway

showcases were a MAJOR event for CSFA students, this had to be out of the world spectacular!

discovery: praise only caused your neighbour to turn redder than a tomato

‘will I receive an invitation any time soon?’ you teased, gently nudging his side with your elbow

please say I didn’t smash his iPad screen

hey, I placed it on the floor G E N T L Y

a mischievous glint twinkled in Zhengting’s brown orbs

you guys KNOW that look

he let out a huff and pretended to be in deep thought, weighing out the pros and cons

arms akimbo, you willed for him to stop teasing and provide an answer

he genuinely has no idea if Professor Zhou will grant him so many passes, stop being so pushy😫😔

Zhengting clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth triumphantly, finally able to decide on his answer

‘okay, IF you help me fine tune my choreography a bit more, I’ll beg Professor Cheng to save you a seat,’he offered

SCORE!

‘sure, of course! I am a composer and rap study though,’ you quipped in reply, hoping he would still go through with the proposal

ZT shrugged nonchalantly, ‘the more diverse an opinion the better. And please, you’re all Prof Jin and Prof Jackson brag about to our classes.’

now was your turn to blush and deny his claims

who cared if his iPad was broken

at least his heart wasn’t

ZT’s diary: month two of living with Justin＼(・ω・)/

commotion

yet again

and it was early in the morning

history does repeat itself

thank goodness it wasn’t the sacred hour of 9am but 11am

still early on in the new day

however, havoc seemed to be wrecking your neighbours flat

• one moment, the sharp charring of a vacuum cleaner could be heard and the next, shattering items or dropping of boxes boomed through the flat

basically, just huge chaos

not wanting to seem too nosy, you kept yourself from going over

however, the level of pandemonium was getting so out of hand that Wenjun put down his gaming control and asked if he should check it out

what could be so wrong on a Saturday morning?

you opened your mouth to answer but was abruptly cut off by two urgent knocks on the front door

the door creaked open to reveal a panicky, oddly-dressed Zhengting holding onto handles of pet crates

‘hi,’ you quickly greeted, unable to stand the awkward silence. ‘Is everything alright?’

‘just peachy,’ he replied, tongue slipping over his chapped lips

ZZT WITH CHAPPED LIPS ???

WHAT WAS UP WITH HIS CLOTHING CHOICE TODAY?

my most fashionable neighbour is clad in a shirt that cost more than my life from some new streetwear brand and lounge pants - probably from the market - with yellow butterflies on them

what a fit, a fashion statement

such fittingly random sense of style today

something obviously wasn’t right

yes, I’m referring to his pyjamas featured on idol xinfan

YH sprouts rlly wear questionable clothes to sleep no offence

...at least they don’t sleep nude right?

like that’s living life on the edge imagine getting your period while sleeping that’ll be awful

anyway

turning your gaze on the pet carriers, you spot a pretty white kitten and a caramel coloured puppy

in separate carriers

‘I’ll explain later but um our parents are coming for a surprise visit and they don’t know about my babies yet so could you please look after them for an hour or so?’Zhengting begs, desperation creeping into his voice

an ear-splitting crash echoes from their apartment before Justin yells, ‘ge! I can’t get the cat fur off our clothes!’

this is an emergency!!!

you take the pets from his hands gleefully and throw out your lint roller in exchange

‘try this!’

in no way am I advertising lint rollers I don’t even think I have one

Zhengting shoots you the brightest smile you’ve ever seen and hurriedly dashes over to Justin

Wenjun joins in a few moments later, leaving you alone to bond with your neighbours’ pets

a puppy and a kitten? sign me the f*ck up

sorry, couldn’t find if he was more a dog or cat person so you get the best of both worlds

the snow white kitten cautiously pads onto your ottoman while the more adventurous puppy bounces happily onto your bed

I think your heart just melted into a puddle of goo

just imagine Zhengting playing with these two cuties

ba bump, ba bump, babump, babumpbabump

since you’re worried the young animals might pee on your bed, you take them out to the balcony to play

an animal approved balcony

they mess with a collection of small potted

after which, grow tired and begin snuggling up to you for comfort

without caring you’re attempting conversation with pets - that are not even yours, you pose shy of a billion questions

like ‘is ZT treating you well?’, ‘does he look better with his hair up or down?’,‘isn’t he so cute?’

‘Zhengting’s so attractive,’ you muse wistfully not realising the man standing on the neighbouring balcony

ZT chuckles, feeling red tint his cheeks

he only emerged from his room to inhale a breath of fresh air before the intense grilling by his parents could pepper him

yet he felt his heart grow warmer than ever, prior to your heartfelt confession

*intermission*

the front door clicked shut behind Justin and the brothers flopped onto the living room carpet, finally able to breathe normally

we pulled it off, we did it,’ Justin gasped in disbelief, wondering if all the cleaning he had done was a lucid dream

but the realness of Zhengting’s high-five and sparkling counters proved him wrong

ah ha! whatever ge’s parents said to him also proved it happened!

‘soooo,’ he drawled out teasingly. ‘pa and ma think you’re attracted to our neighbour.’

Justin’s hand reached to pinch Zhengting’s steadily crimsoning cheeks

He only snickered when his ge swatted his fingers away as if they were pesky flies

puppy love

speaking of puppies, Justin insisted that Zhengting collect their babies back

knocking at your door, Zhengting had no idea why he felt more anxious than usual

his throbbing heart seemed to want to jump out of his chest

at least he was momentarily distracted by your endless gushing of love for his pets

compliment after compliment, love confession after love confession

shhh...he kind of wished you were referring to him

‘they’re such great listeners too!’

oh!

they admitted that I’m handsome!

Zhengting raised a smug eyebrow, mouth curling upwards. ‘So, you think I’m attractive huh?’

ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION I REPEAT ABORT MISSION

*sweats nervously*

thankfully, he doesn’t prompt for a reply as he takes the pet carriers from your grasp

with a wink, Zhengting walks off

leaving you in a frantic yet charmed mess

you: ZZT, you did NOT hear that

the text is fast, your fingers flurry over the keyboard

his answer isn’t delayed either

zhengting: hear what? your Romeo&Julietesque confession of your love for me?

you: pft just bc we both have balconies doesn’t mean we’re Romeo and Juliet

you: it didn’t happen

you: I take my words back

zhengting: mhm and you definitely did not talk to my pets as if they were humans

you: SHUSH

zhengting: no :)

zhengting: come to the balcony

zhengting: please

zhengting: where are you

zhengting: :(

zhengting: come out or I’m calling Wenjun and exposing you

you rolled off your bed and onto your balcony faster than Usain Bolt

Zhengting had already propped his arms on the dividing decoration, awaiting your arrival

‘hey, secret lover,’ he poked. ‘Missed me?’

your orbs rolled in perfect circles,

‘please, I saw you a couple of minutes ago. If anything, I miss your puppy more.’

‘come over tonight.’

what? excuse me?

‘I really need help with my choreography. Please? You promised!’

Zhengting looked needy enough for you to say yes...plus, you wanted tickets to the showcase...and it couldn’t hurt to spend more time with help him right?

also because you wanted to see his pets again

you told him you would come over after dinner

the temptation would be too great to arrive on an empty stomach when a full-course meal awaits

Justin was clad in his baby blue onesie and carrying the small white kitten when he opened the door

how childlike

I should get matching pjs for Wenjun too

with a knowing smirk, he mentioned that Zhengting was in his room

in return, you filled him in on the new video game that Wenjun bought

and then let him into your apartment to bug Wenjun

hehe

family goals

you ventured further into the flat, a tad bit more familiar with your surroundings

Zhengting must be playing with his puppy as excited barks were coming from the inside

you rapped your knuckles on the door then entered

bc you’re a cultured person who knocks the door before entering!

you learnt you to knock after walking in on many...unpleasant things

such as wang ziyi and cai xukun proclaiming their eternal love

then catching xukun on a date with zhang yixing a few days later

not the kind of things you want to recall

as you expected, Zhengting is on his bed, playing with his puppy

oh wow can I just say

bedhead ZZT with his shirt sliding off one shoulder to reveal a defined collarbone

his grey sweatpants have loosened around the waist to reveal his Calvins and the very tip of his waist tattoo peeking out

wow

so sexy

but no, in reality, he’s just cradling his puppy and cooing sweet nothings into his ear

‘what’s his name?’ the puppy pads over to greet you, flicking his small tongue over your hands

‘Justin and I decided to name him Ry, taken from the end of Jeffery,’ Zhengting replies while casually fixing his top

...as in Jeffery from school?

oh goodness, of course, these boys had connections

they must be popular

even though ZZT never attends class???

what sorcery

an awkward silence passes

you both communicate without opening your mouths

eventually, you’re seated on the floor of ZZT’s dance studio, cuddling Ry - not exactly paying attention to his dance

honestly, I think Zhengting’s focus is unbreakable

but when it breaks...it shatters

you go from trying to explain that his left arm needs to be at the same height as his right arm

to ‘oh my god I really like your new phone case.’

and then he’ll pick up the conversation from ‘thanks my phone case is from bare bears official.’

he loves being cute deep down and we all know it shh

then it goes back to ‘one two...three...stop! pose. Wow, you’re a great choreographer.’

not even dance counts ^

blame Professor Wang for influencing my class with dance

I’ve been dragged to deep down

eventually, the night wears on and the two of you simply sprawl out on the dance floor

tired

Ry cheers you up by licking your face though, cutie

you’re curious to find out more about zhengting, now seems like the perfect opportunity to pose questions

‘what other animals would you want as a pet?’ Though, you can’t picture Ry and the kitten having TOO many friends yet.

you watch as Zhengting pouts, thinking hard

‘maybe a pet piglet. My friend, Mubo has one and I played with it once at his place. It was so adorable that all my friends were in love with it.’ Zhengting laughs fondly at the memory.

‘my mother would kill me though,’ he adds quickly

idk man we could like share a pet so we both gain from it and become piglet parents

wh00ps did I say that out loud? Why is he giggling at me?

‘yes, yes you did,’ Zhengting speaks between his chuckles. ‘I already am a Zhu so might as well be a piglet parent.’

朱 (last name) and 猪 (pig) are both ‘zhu’

jokingly, you say, ‘I’ll choreograph a celebratory dance if you take up my offer.’

that’s when Zhengting gets all excited and seriously considers buying a pig

one hour passes just researching on pigs

how to care for one

what to feed it

where to buy one

is it legal

how much does one piglet cost

not that the cost affects his decision ^

‘let’s do it,’ Zhengting decides surely, the determination in his tone. ‘Let’s be piglet parents.’

‘you’re kidding...’ your voice trails off when you see he is COMPLETELY on board with the idea

what :) have :)) I :))) done :)))

I CAN’T BE A PARENT TO EARLY ON

yet I really like the idea of Zhengting as a pet dad

with me

it’ll be a small family

‘we’ll work out the custody issues later,’ he jests. ‘Are you ready to sign some adoption papers? I found a reputable place.’

there’s this look of certainty and assurance in his eyes that only read ‘with me, everything’s going to be fine.’

maybe that was when you realised you were SO ready to admit you wanted to be with him

maybe confession could come later but for now

piglet parenting?

hell yeah

‘I’m in on it.’

I’m so glad you moved in next door

I’m so happy Justin chose the right apartment complex

worked on this for one whole week oh my god and this lowkey became crack

rlly wanted to get this up for his birthday!!!

so happiest 22nd/23rd to the gorgeous Zhu Zhengting!!

can’t believe he’s joining the old men club on Idol Producer I’m so proud :)

I fell for him on Pd 101 but unfortunately, his incredible talents weren’t recognised

he and Justin were my Chinese kings and now they’ve both come back to claim their kingdoms

Zhengting is just so talented, hardworking, kind-hearted and humorous

I love

tbh idk what lies ahead for his future bc YH’s plans look a bit scattered for the SKR and CH side

but whatever happens, I only wish the best for him and I hope that he would achieve his dream

literally, I would marry this man if the age gap wasn’t so big and if we shared the same religion

God bless him and his household, they deserve love and grace too

@ zhu family, thanks for raising such a wonderful man

朱正廷，祝您生日快乐！我希望正廷哥哥会得到耶稣的祝福，会继续努力也会好好照顾自己的身体。我希望有一天我们可以见面。加油吧！我一定会支持您。我爱您。💝💞💘

pls don’t bash me for my errors, my ancestors are disappointed enough already :”)

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZHU ZHENGTING #zhu zhengting #yuehua trainees #idol producer #produce 101 #idol producer scenarios #produce 101 scenarios #yuehua sprouts

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80srockher · 6 years

Text

Yuri on Ice Rewatch and Live-Commentary, Episode 1: Easy as Pirozhki!! The Grand Prix Final of Tears

*There are spoilers throughout. I also make assumptions that anyone reading has already seen the episode or has a grasp of the content.*

Source: http://yurionicescreencaps.tumblr.com

The opening scene is so pretty. Really sets a tone. I went in knowing nothing about the anime first go-around, so I found Yuri and Victor’s grow/glow-ups montages interesting.

This theme song is… not my favorite. Maybe it’s the French horns? That and too much synth. I usually skip over it but want to give it a chance this go-around.

Heh, Victor and his gold blades to match his gold medal. And his European af haircut. Can’t remember the last time I saw an American past the age of 12 with bangs. No mistaking him for anything other than Eastern European.

Also, the poster on the left is for Victor, I believe. Can he pull his leg that high in the air? Was that featured and I forgot? I’ll be on the lookout for it.

Also, looks like Jean JACK made it to Sochi and placed third here too, lolz.

Yes, please listen to your coach, Yuri. Don’t poke the wound. Stay off the internets. ESPECIALLY the figure skating internets. What little I remember from when I used to follow the sport is that it’s dramatic, to put it nicely.

I keep getting distracted by the utter Euro-ness of the Europeans in this show. The cut of Coach Celestino’s suit is so Italian I weep. He’s too smooth.

Yuri’s name tag has his name in Cyrillic as well? Cute.

My first impression of Yuri was that he looks about 18 and that impression hasn’t changed. Perhaps it’s the glasses, but he def looks youthful. I’m also someone who’s been accused of looking a decade+ younger than I actually am, so I can sympathize.

Speaking of sympathy – Yuri caved to pressure, binged ate before the competition while mourning his dog, then bombed his first trip to the Grand Prix final. All in front of his idol. Damnity damn damn. Sorry, kid.

Is Cao Bin ever introduced on the show? Something else I forgot, maybe?

Now, when I first saw this poor child crying in the bathroom, that’s when I knew the series was going to be much different from the light-hearted anime about figure skating I expected. It got real deep real quick.

Yuri Plisetsky “The Russian Punk”. Is this something the in-universe media refers to him as? Because I only recall (JPN) Yuri saying it and only this once.

This screencap is during the scene where the journalist Marooka (sp?) is hassling Yuri about his future plans and instead of answering, Yuri can only stare at someone else’s puppy that reminds him of his dead Vicchan.

This baby is crying. Cry.ing. This has been a tough day for poor Yuri, overall.

And he talks down to himself so much. It’s all his fault he caved to pressure. He was an idiot to think he could meet his idol on the same playing field. He’s come so far and still thinks so little of his accomplishments.

So, I understand this “one year later” is not really accurate, lol. It’s just the new year following the previous season. I was confused initially about a number of soon-to-happen events before Yuri’s mental alter ego cleared it up.

So, per Minako’s voice actress, Yuri really is pronounced YOO-RI. Cute.

Four Continents is… not a Grand Prix competition? My figure skating knowledge is all rust now.

LOL, Minako does. Not. Play. And she wears a pinky ring. My God, that death grip on poor Yuri.

It’s snowing outside the train station when Yuri and Minako leave. So, it’s not unusual to snow in this region in March, but it’s highly unusual a month or so later. Man, hard to believe Yuri sat around for almost an entire month before the infamous video became viral. More on that, later.

So, based on everyone’s interactions with Yuri so far, the only person who cares that he didn’t make it to the World Championships is him. And he should care since he’s worked basically his entire life towards that goal. But, he doesn’t appear to have let anyone down but himself, though he doesn’t act that way.

So, the fact that the family hot springs is named “Yu-topia”… did that influence Yuri’s name at all, I wonder?

Ha! I wish I could have recorded the Japanese actor’s voice when he says this line. He makes Yuri sound so done with it all, lol. It’s the best.

Ok, so a number of very interesting and entertaining things happen in succession that I don’t feel like screencapping. No hug between the littlest Katsuki and the senior Katsukis, even though he hasn’t been home in 5 years. Fascinating. No doubt cultural (I’m guessing) but fascinating.

Yuri’s mom basically calls Minako a drunk. To her face. LOL. But I imagine no one can get mad at this sweet lady.

Minako calls Yuri out on his weight gain in front of God and everybody. Though, I think it’s more of a matter of his clothes no longer fitting due to said weight gain.

But, his parents don’t care. Eat more pork cutlet bowls, Yuri! Welcome home!

Vicchan’s shrine is where they also store the unused treadmill. Want to bet the only person to use it was Yuri?

Then older sis Mari-neechan appears with frosted tips. I can appreciate a character that doesn’t beat around the bush (a trait she inherited from her mother, I imagine). Welcome home, Yuri, but don’t sit on your ass. Start thinking about your next move.

Actually *loads headcanon* I suspect Mari doesn’t want Yuri to give up on skating. The longer he stays at home, the more quitting becomes a possibility.

So, the Katsuki family hot springs resort (Inn? Restaurant?) is the last one standing in town. Very OT, but I wonder if the hot springs are still an attraction at all and are perhaps, government-owned? Protected, used by tourists for a fee, perhaps? I think about things like that.

Having never visited a hot spring, and based on the setting around Minako while she watches the World Championships on TV, it appears to be a place for people to come, soak, and lounge and grab a bite to eat if the mood strikes. So, the Katsukis wait on people basically all day long. Gotta be exhausting work.

Yuuuuuko! The Madonna of Ice Castle Hasetsu! Yuri’s crush on her is hella cute.

A slight segue to Yuri’s perceived attraction to Yuko and what it could imply about his sexual identity. Per his labeling of Yuko as a “Madonna,” I figure Yuri considers Yuko untouchable, perhaps even “too good” for him. Yuko, just like Victor, is “ideal”. For someone as self-conscious as Yuri, comparing any romantic prospects against his two ideals was probably a convenient excuse not to get *too* close to anyone, male or female. That being said, he didn’t pursue Yuko. Alcohol loosened enough of Yuri’s inhibitions to eventually openly flirt with Victor, but this is still an important distinction, IMO. He pursued one of his ideals (in more ways than one, even going so far as to leave home to in hopes of becoming Victor’s equal) and left the other one behind.

Yuri idealizes/d Yuko, and comes to love Victor. He’s gay. Bi, at the least.

I don’t feel confident in applying any other labels, because I’m a straight. Yuri could fall under any number of categories as long it they include, IMO, same-sex attraction.

In actuality, Yuko is “introduced” to the audience as Yuri’s straight love interest, but that doesn’t last long. Cute and clever, show creators. Cute. And . Clever.

Then we find out, via flashback, a) how adorable they all were when they were little kids and b) Yuko wanted to see Yuri compete against Victor. Yuko has been a profound influence on Yuri.

So, Victor. This guy is in a class by himself. The animators obviously invested a lot of time in his movements. You can see why he leads the field even at 27.

Also, the creators had the nerve, the audacity, the unmitigated gall to compose an original opera aria for a cartoon. That was my next indicator that this was more than a cutesy figure skating anime.

The song really is beautiful, too. Probably my favorite in the soundtrack.

Who’s the last IRL skater to win 5 consecutive World Championships? Michelle Kwan, maybe? Who is Kwan’s male equivalent? Back then, probably Alexei Yagudin? May research. May not.

Anyway, Victor is the Michelle Kwan of YOI-verse lol.

Hmm. Here come the three brats. Good God. Poor Yuko and Takeshi lol.

So sweet to see Yuri’s childhood bully is his biggest fan now.

Sooo, Yuko’s triplets secretly record Yuri’s private performance, post it online (sometime before April 10, when Victor shows up), and things progress rather quickly from there...

Or do they? It appeared to me that Yuri caught up with Yuko at the rink the same day he returned home. Did he skate Victor’s routine for her that day, as well, or did it happen later? Perhaps the triplets waited a few weeks to post the video, or else it took a few weeks to go viral. Did Yuri turn off his phone for *weeks* to avoid the world?

Maybe he got home on March 30 and then the whole month of April just went to hell for him? The possibilities...

LOL, I’m so SO mad the title of the video is “Katsuki Yuri TRIED to Skate Victor’s FS Program”. Those brats.

This might be the most unattractive Victor’s ever looked. Severe close-ups aren’t flattering on anyone. Welp, down the rabbit hole now.

So, in the next scene it snows in April which doesn’t stop anyone from stripping naked to bathe in a hot spring, apparently. Or it just doesn’t stop Victor.

#moneyshot

I like this ending theme much better. It’s a head-bopper. The Instagram reel kills me.

Thanks to anyone who took the time to read through this stream of consciousness! No idea how long it may take me to get through the rest. I tip my hat to those who regularly and passionately participate in fandom. It’s a lot of work!

#yuri on ice #yuri!!! on ice #yuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #minako okukawa #hiroko katsuki #toshiya katsuki #mari katsuki #yuko nishigori #takeshi nishigori #celestino cialdini #yuri plisetsky #episode1 #myblogisMYsafeplace #hashtagskeepmefrombabbling #yoi rewatch #makkachin #vicchan #yoi

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yvonneshan · 3 years

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This Is Why Tiny Things Make Us So Happy

Have you ever found yourself wandering the kitchen supplies section and gravitating toward exceptionally small whisks or spatulas, wondering how anyone could possibly find a use for them—and yet, feeling strangely compelled to buy them? Or maybe you don't consider yourself a "baby person," but find yourself letting out an involuntary squeal upon holding your friend's child for the first time and noticing its tiny fingers and toes? If so, you—like many other people on this planet—have been on the receiving end of the effects of cuteness psychology.

The "psychology of cuteness" might sound made up, but it has roots in research going back more than 70 years. Here's what to know about the science of cuteness and why tiny objects—both natural and artificial—have the ability to make us happy and comforted.

The Origins of Cuteness Psychology Even if you don't recognize his name, you're probably familiar with the work of Konrad Lorenz, a German ethologist who introduced the concept of the baby schema ("Kindchenschema") in 1943. The "baby schema" is the theory that certain physical features that are typically associated with babies—like a round face and big eyes—are so irresistibly cute to humans they will prompt us to not only feel delight, but actually desire to take care of someone or something.

"The psychology of cuteness is the idea that we find things cute that require parental care," Amanda Levison, a licensed professional counselor from Neurofeedback and Counseling Center in Harrisburg, Penn., tells Real Simple. "This happens to elicit a response out of us to take care of the babies or baby animals that need to be taken care of. Seeing something small and cute stimulates bonding behaviors and the need to take care of it and protect it."

And while this tidy evolutionary explanation makes sense, our attraction to small objects isn't entirely a result of a primitive desire to act as a parent and/or do our part to propagate the species. In fact, more recent research has indicated that our reaction to cuteness isn't necessarily directly related to some sort of instinctual need to nurture, but rather more of a general, positive feeling that can influence how we socially interact with other people. Here are some of the ways that can play out.

Our hormones are at it again. Part of the whole helpless-but-irresistible, big-eyed baby narrative is that seeing these adorable tiny humans or animals releases oxytocin—aka the "love hormone"—which is involved with forming emotional bonds, explains Varun Choudhary, MD, a board-certified forensic psychiatrist. But again, this goes beyond laughing babies and yawning puppies, and also applies to our affection for all things tiny. When the body releases oxytocin, this "makes us feel in love with the object we are attracted to," says Pareen Sehat, MC, RCC, a registered clinical counselor and certified mental health professional practicing in Vancouver, Canada.

Oxytocin is not the only hormone involved. "Dopamine is one of the most important hormones that triggers happiness and any positive emotional response," Sehat says. "Whenever we see tiny things we find cute and attractive, our brain releases dopamine and makes us feel happy."

This is another example of evolutionary biology at work, according to Sam Von Reiche, PsyD, a clinical psychologist in Paramus, N.J., and the author of Rethink Your Shrink: The Best Alternatives to Talk Therapy and Meds, "The human brain is designed to love cute, small things by rewarding us with a shot of dopamine—which makes us feel very happy—whenever we behold them, to help guarantee we will be drawn to our tiny babies and want to take care of and protect them," Von Reiche say. "This ensures their survival and, in turn, the survival of our species."

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Small things bring back the comforts of childhood. There's a reason why we were all turning to the music, movies, and TV shows of our youth during the darkest days of the COVID-19 pandemic: Nostalgia can be a great source of comfort. But it doesn't require a global crisis for us to be drawn to objects that remind us of childhood. "People may experience different emotions to an object depending on the imprinted emotions that may be attached to a memory," Dr. Choudhary says. "For example, a young child receives a Mickey Mouse watch from her parents and later associates tiny Mickey Mouse figurines with a sense of comfort and security."

By the time we're adults, we have decades of experience forming strong emotional attachments with external objects, something Dr. Choudhary says is part of our neurodevelopmental process. "Psychoanalysts call them 'transitional objects' because they are a source of security while we process and understand our world," he explains, noting that these items are usually small, like a doll, blanket, or ball. But, as we've learned from the plot of every Toy Story movie, there comes a point when children outgrow their playthings. "As we grow older, this need to find external security diminishes as our internal world becomes more prominent," Dr. Choudhary continues.

While this makes sense, so does the idea that in times of stress, we return to things that gave us comfort at an early age. And it doesn't need to be the exact same teddy bear or toy we played with as a child—or even a toy at all. It could be a miniature version of an item. "Subconsciously, we positively associate tiny objects with the security and comfort they brought us in an earlier time in our lives," he says.

We experience awe and wonder. Our brains are often drawn to the unique and unusual. "Miniatures—tiny objects—draw our attention because they are extraordinary; the mind knows that the object is highly unusual as to size while being familiar as to design," says Carla Marie Manly, PhD, a clinical psychologist in Sonoma County, Calif. "Thus, the mind finds the tiny object appealing—cute and adorable—as it evokes a sense of normalcy and oddity at the same time."

There's also what Gail Saltz, MD, a psychiatrist and associate professor of psychiatry at the New York Presbyterian Hospital Weill-Cornell School of Medicine, refers to as the "awe factor," or wondering how in the world something that's usually so big can be made in such a small size. "Seeing a marvel or feat that reminds us how amazing, talented, creative people are makes us feel good," she says. "Seeing something that makes us use our imagination, and is so original [that] it gives us pleasure can, like art, [be] a creative wonder."

They're nice and nonthreatening. As humans, we like to feel a sense of control over at least some aspects of our lives (even though, in reality, we don't really). This is another part of the appeal of diminutive items, according to Brian Wind, PhD, a clinical psychologist and adjunct professor at Vanderbilt University, who explains that our fascination with the teeny "could also be linked to the fact that often we have a greater sense of control and power over smaller things."

Along the same lines, Levison points out that we're drawn to "their helplessness [and] inability to pose a threat to us." So not only do tiny things make us feel safer because we don't find them threatening, they can also give us the confidence boost that comes with feeling in control or dominant (even if that feeling is triggered by one of those airplane-sized bottles of Tabasco sauce).

They're symbolic stand-ins for the real thing. On another level, some people may gravitate towards miniatures because they don't have the money or access required to obtain the real-life versions. "While we might not be able to obtain certain items such as a live owl, an expensive race car, or a giant statue, a miniature copy can offer incredible emotional rewards," Manly explains.

This is also one of the reasons people purchase and then gift or collect cheesy souvenirs when they're out of town. "Certain tiny objects from one's travels—for example, a tiny Eiffel Tower—can bring a sense of connection to important life events and the people who have shared our journey," she adds. "Depending on one's inner needs and attachment to a certain item, a miniature object can bring a sense of pleasure, satisfaction, and even emotional relief."

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