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voidnoidoid · 2 years

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Weaktober Prompt 7: GREASE

A/N: Sorry this is 2 days late... this piece of writing got way out of control. It's extremely, extremely loosely based on the 1978 movie Grease! I hope this makes up for me missing the entire first week of prompts. Enjoy. (total word count 3626)

“When you return, we’re gonna meet back here, you got that?” Lily said, facing the sun setting below the horizon, slowly dipping below the river. Glowing golden specks danced across the surface of Yeouido river. The sky was a gorgeous splash of reds and yellows, fading away to a dusty blue. Julia smiled, her gaze fixed on Lily, whose mocha hair and pale skin glowed gently in the sunset light.

“Yeah, that’s a promise.” Julia murmured. Lily turned to look at her, grinning.

“Don’t forget it!” She declared. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, watching the sun go down, and the sky transform from radiant gold to soft pinks and blues.

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Lily twiddled her mechanical pencil in her fingers, gazing listlessly at the clock. An entire year had passed since she’d last seen Julia, who had gone abroad to further her studies. They had kept in touch, messaging each other frequently. However, texting every day dropped to every few days, to once a week, and finally to pure radio silence. Lily tried to brush it off as perhaps time zones got in the way, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Julia was trying to avoid her on purpose.

“Alright everyone! That’s the end of today’s cram school class. Make sure to finish reading pages 70 to 100 of the textbook, and see you all back here next Thursday!” The teacher announced, snapping Lily out of her reverie. She glanced at her notes, and breathed a sigh of relief as she had managed to take note of all the crucial parts of the lesson but there seemed to be something amiss. Her eyes drifted over to a supposedly blank corner of the page, where a drawing of Julia’s face sat, gazing melancholically into space. Gosh! Why had she doodled Julia out of all things? Lily grabbed an eraser, preparing to rub that drawing out of existence, but found that she could not bring herself to do it. She snapped her notebook shut and replaced her eraser back into her pencil case.

Lily put on her backpack and walked out of class, to see her friends waiting for her. “Lily, what took you so long?” One of them complained, a tall girl with hair cut in a short brown bob.

“Oh come on, it was only 5 minutes!” Another piped up, a slender girl with hair tied in two low pigtails.

“Haha, sorry to keep you waiting. Come on, let’s go home!” Lily chimed with faux cheerfulness. Hopefully walking with her new friends could take her mind off of Julia.

In the year following Julia’s departure, Lily had enrolled in a prestigious high school, and built up a reputation as the school’s resident star student, earning stellar grades with a sunny personality to boot. Lily had a warmth which drew people to her, and a subtle, unwavering inner strength. Despite how it seemed like Lily had it all, she always felt like something was missing.

Lily and her friends walked along the cram school street, talking and smiling on their way to the subway station. They were just about to walk past the convenience store across the road when Lily noticed something, more specifically someone, and her eyes widened in shock and surprise. Leaning on a wall outside the convenience store was none other than Julia Chae. There was no mistaking that deep purple hair and faraway stare. Julia was smoking a cigarette while scrolling on her phone, wearing a white scarf and a black leather jacket over a striped shirt.. In front of her was a huge black motorbike, with violet tyre rims and a decal of a flying raven of the same colour, emblazoned on the side of the motorbike, leaving a trail of feathers behind it.

Lily couldn’t believe her eyes. She never knew Julia as the delinquent type, and she hated smoking! More importantly, Julia was back and she did not tell her. Conflicting emotions churned within Lily. On one hand, she was glad to see an old friend, but on the other, she was hurt and worried over how she practically cut all contact with her. Just then, Julia looked up from her phone and their gazes met. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Lily. Moments passed, and neither of them wanted to look away.

“Hey! Lily! What are you doing just standing there?” The tall girl called out from ahead of her.

“Ah! Coming!” Lily replied, and started jogging towards her friends. She cast a look back at where Julia was, but she was already gone.

At home, Lily sat on her bed, furiously messaging Julia, but to no avail. She wasn’t picking up any of her calls either. Lily let out a cry of frustration, as Julia was clearly reading all her texts, judging by the little notification next to them. “We’re gonna meet up, whether you like it or not!” Lily huffed. She sent another message,

[Julia, I know you’re reading this. Meet at Dawn Cafe this Saturday at 3pm. I’ll be waiting.]

With that, she shut off her phone, placed it on her bedside table and flopped onto her bed, letting out an exasperated sigh. What happened to the girl she once knew?

Dawn Cafe was filled with the buzz of conversation, the tinkling of teaspoons in ceramic cups, and the soothing jazz that played in the background. Lily sat in a secluded corner of the cafe, next to a window, sipping her vanilla latte. It was 2:45 pm, and she was early. She stared at the entrance, watching as each customer walked in, anticipating Julia’s arrival. After what seemed like an eternity, Julia walked through the door, dressed in a simple long-sleeved black shirt and loose jeans. She had her hair down, unlike the last night where she had it fixed in a low bun. Julia looked tired, her eyes sunken and face thin. She made her way towards where Lily was sitting, and sat down.

“Look who decided to show up.” Lily said. Julia remained silent, but her eyes darkened slightly. “So, you came back to Korea huh? How was life overseas?” Lily said, barely masking the hurt in her voice. She gripped her skirt under the table, feeling the soft fabric scrunch up beneath her fingers. Julia did not speak. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

Julia finally met Lily’s gaze. “Lily, I’m sorry. I lied to you.”

“Wha- what do you mean?”

“I never went overseas. I took a gap year to work and earn some money.” Julia confessed, shamefaced. Lily was stunned.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“I didn’t want you to worry-”

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you respond to my messages? Why didn’t you call, or email, or anything? You practically ghosted me for half a year, and you’re telling me you didn’t want me to worry?” Lily spat in anger. She felt her eyes water, and took off her glasses to rub the tears away. “And what’s with the whole… motorbike, smoking thing? It’s so not you.” Despite everything, Lily managed a small laugh.

Fidgeting with her sleeve, Julia responded, “I joined a gang… to work as their courier. No fighting or anything, I just do deliveries.” Lily raised an eyebrow. “It pays well, enough to make ends meet.”

“But why this? Why not some normal job?” Lily asked, incredulous.

“I needed money, a lot of it, and fast. You know my mum… well, she’s not doing too good right now. Someone has to pay the bills. One thing led to another and… here I am. It’s a long story.”

Lily went quiet at that. She was so wrapped up in her own hurt feelings that she hadn’t stopped to consider how Julia was feeling. She had her own problems too. “Julia, I’m sorry I-”

“No Lily, I should be the one to apologise. I don’t have any excuses for how I’ve treated you. I felt like this side of me was something I couldn’t let you find out about. I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

Lily took a long drink from her latte, which was getting cold. She set it down with an audible thunk against the table. The light from the window reflected off her glasses, making them shine with an ominous glint. “Apology…..” Julia gulped nervously. “....accepted.” She let out a sigh of relief.

“I- I thought you’d be angrier.” Julia remarked.

“Oh I am. But you know how you can make it up to me?” Lily said.

“How?”

“No more secrets! You better respond to my texts this time!” She declared, pointing at Julia, who smiled in relief. “And… Could you stop working for your gang? I don’t think it’s the right thing for you to do.”

“Alright. That’s a promise.”

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Julia raced down the highway on her Yamaha YZF-R3, on her way to her next assignment. The street lights were a yellow blur against the midnight sky and the edges of her leather jacket that she wore backwards fluttered behind her, like the feathers of a bird. She had done some reflection after her meeting with Lily. The delinquent life she was leading now gave her no satisfaction. It was simply a means to an end, and was in no way a long term solution to her problems. Thinking about it rationally, Julia felt a pang of regret for the choices she made that led her down this path. It was job after job, one risk bigger than the other, and for Lily’s sake, Julia had decided that enough was enough.

“You want out of this gig? Sure. If you’re able to bring back what was stolen from me. If not… I’m afraid your wings are gonna get clipped, Violet Raven. ” Her boss, Wolf Keum, gave her this final mission. She was to retrieve a bag full of important documents currently in the possession of a rival biker gang, the Hounds.

The Hounds were a group of vicious thugs willing to do anything and everything for a large sum of money. Whoever hired them was filthy rich. “Sort of like me.” Julia thought, but she shook that thought aside. She was different. She had a good reason to need the money. She wasn’t some brainless thug.

Soon, she arrived at the Hounds home base, an abandoned warehouse in a shady part of town. She parked her bike somewhere inconspicuous, and kept her helmet on. If the Hounds caught sight of her face she would be done for. Sneaking into their base was like jumping straight into the lion’s den, but according to the intel she received, the Hounds would usually be out roaming the streets at this time.

Under the cover of night, Julia sneaked into the warehouse through an open door. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. She found herself in a room stacked with various boxes and crates, the walls lined with shelving units. Quickly, she scanned the room for any signs of a leather bag emblazoned with “GOLD”. She was just about to leave when a glint in the darkness caught her eye. Right there, beneath a small open window was the bag she was looking for, tucked away in a corner. If she hadn’t spotted the reflected light, who knows how long she’d be in here for? As silent as an owl in flight, Julia retrieved the bag and retraced her steps out of the warehouse. That was easier than she thought.

Stashing the bag safely in a storage compartment on the back of her motorbike, Julia hopped on her bike and was about to leave when-

“Hey! Who the fuck is that!” It was one of the Hounds. She had to leave. Now. Gripping the handlebars tight, she sped off into the night as fast as she could, hoping and praying to whatever God out there that she wouldn’t be tailed. Thankfully, it seemed that the Hound did not recognise her.

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The next evening, she was summoned to the rooftop of Ganghak High, where she returned the stolen bag to Wolf. The head of Ganghak lounged on his chair, his lackeys standing on either side of him. “Didn’t think you could do it.” He said, looking nonchalantly at Julia. He unzipped the bag and peered inside, checking the contents. After a few seconds, he closed the bag, satisfied. “Good, everything’s as it should be. You’re a reliable one, Raven.” Julia nodded, feeling stiff from the immense aura Wolf gave off.

“Welp, I’m a man of my word. You can leave.” Wolf remarked. Julia’s eyes widened, feeling a bit stunned. Was she really being let go this easily? His smile dropped after seeing Julia just standing there, unmoving. “Well? I said leave.” Julia cast her gaze downward, muttered a thank you and left in a hurry. Thankfully he was in a relatively good mood that evening, and for whatever reason, let her go with no strings attached. Julia descended the stairs, mounted her bike, and with a muffled roar of her engine, drove to the convenience store near the cram school street.

The convenience store was a comfort to Julia. The clean, pristine floors, neatly organised shelves of snacks, medical supplies and other miscellaneous goods. A place where people passed by and nothing more. The feeling of impermanence, ironically, was a grounding force to Julia. She had come in to buy a pack of cigarettes, and was just about to go to the counter to get some, but stopped herself. “I’ll have one of those please.” She gestured to a package of strawberry candies, Lily’s favourite.

Julia stepped out of the store, the chime ringing as she exited. She pocketed the candy, and was just about to leave when she heard a distant roar of multiple engines. She looked out to the road, and there they were. The Hounds. A quintet of blood red motorbikes were speeding down the road. Their leader, Jeongmu Choi, led the pack straight towards her. “Shit!” She muttered, stuffing her head into her helmet. She’d have to shake them off.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she raced down the road. Thankfully there wasn’t much traffic at this hour. In her side mirrors, she could see that the Hounds were hot on her trail. She grit her teeth and accelerated as fast as she could. The wind whipped her hair behind her, biting cold. If she weren’t being hunted down, she would have found this rather exhilarating. Julia neared a crossroads, she turned left. Then a right. Right again, and another left. Surely she’d lost them by now right? She was dead wrong. Once the Hounds had caught wind of her scent there was no shaking them off now.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Julia skidded to a halt, tyres screaming against asphalt as her bike turned at a 180 degree angle. She stuck out a leg to stabilise herself, dragging against the road. She’d reached a dead end. The hounds had cornered her into a dead end street. The walls of the buildings stretched high above her akin to a birdcage. Julia dismounted her motorbike, and removed her helmet, fixing the rival gang with a steel-cold glare. The Hounds formed a barrier with their bikes, removing all possibility of escape. Jeongmu dismounted his bike and smirked maliciously at her.

“You’ve got nowhere to run, little birdy. Nobody steals from us and gets away from it.” He said, voice low and threatening. A girl emerged from behind him, stalking arrogantly towards Julia. It was Lala Lee, the two-faced narcissist who humiliated her a year prior.

She flipped her hair, getting right up in Julia’s face. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? We’re gonna put you in your place you worthless bitch.” She shoved Julia roughly, sending her stumbling back a few steps.

“Hmph, I’ve got nothing to say to you. You’re a pathetic attention-hungry brat who’s only method of filling that empty hole in your heart is by hanging out with brainless idiots like them.” Julia retorted, venom lacing her words. Lala, enraged, slapped Julia in the face. She didn’t flinch.

“Argh! Y-you BITCH!” Lala turned to Jeongmu, pointing angrily at Julia. “What are you waiting for, get her babe!” At that, the Hounds began closing in on Julia. She put her hands up in a guard stance, steeling herself for the pain that was about to come.

Jeongmu cracked his knuckles and said, “You heard what she said. A shame I gotta mess up your face, you’re pretty cute.” Lala shot him a glare. “But obviously not as hot as Princess over there.” Julia shut her eyes and braced herself, there wasn’t any way out of this one.

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Lily was scrolling through social media when something caught her eye. It was a post from Lala, her ex-friend from middle school. She gasped in shock when she saw it, a selfie of Lala with a menacing group of thugs in the background, cornering a girl. Lala had really gone too far. And was that… Julia? Lily read the caption, “Bye bye birdie! Prepare to get crushed.” Lily zoomed in. There was no mistake. That really was Julia. Her leather jacket and black and purple motorbike gave it away. She was in deep trouble! Looking closer, Lily recognised that street, it was the shopping district near her apartment complex!

She had no time to lose. Lily threw off her blanket, grabbed a hoodie from her closet and threw it on. Quietly, so she would not awaken her parents, she crept out of her room, slipped on her pair of slides, and snuck out of the house. Within minutes, Lily was on her bicycle, pedalling as fast as she could on her way to the shopping street where Julia was. It had been a while since Lala had posted that picture, she hoped she could reach Julia in time.

Turning a corner, Lily finally reached her destination. The alley was completely deserted, save for a figure lying on the ground in a crumpled heap. “Julia!” Lily exclaimed, getting off her bike and rushing to her. “Oh… Julia…” Lily breathed, examining Julia’s condition. She was unconscious, her pale skin littered with bruises, black and blue. Lily gently brushed the hair from Julia’s face, revealing a streak of blood dripping from her forehead and lips. Lily sat and rested Julia’s head on her lap. She retrieved her cell phone and dialled the number for the ambulance. “Julia, you big idiot.” Tears started welling up in Lily’s eyes. “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” She sniffled.

She held Julia in her arms til the ambulance came, the wailing siren and red-blue lights enveloping them both.

Julia regained consciousness the next afternoon, with Lily by her side at the hospital bed. “Lily…?” She whispered, her voice raspy. Lily’s head shot up, immediately turning to look at Julia.

“What happened?” Lily asked, concerned. Julia recounted the events that had transpired, and she listened with rapt attention. “So… it’s over? No more gang stuff?”

“Yes. I’m done with that life now.” Julia said with a smile.

“You idiot… you could have just come to me for help instead of going through all that alone! I was so-”

“Worried? Yeah, sorry.”

“Agh whatever! That’s all over and done with now. I’m glad you’re okay Julia.” Lily smiled.

Julia looked down, cheeks reddening slightly. “C-can we start over? Hang out like we used to?” She asked in a soft voice. Lily beamed brighter.

“Heh, that’s a promise!”

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It was the end of another school day. Lily was heading towards the school gates when she spotted a crowd gathering at the front. Curious, she went to see what all the commotion was.

It was Julia, waiting for her at the school’s entrance, le

aning against her bike. She smiled and waved when she saw Lily. “Hey, come on, let’s go!” Lily’s blushed, embarrassed by the murmurs and attention the other students were giving her. She took her helmet from Julia’s hands, white with pink flowers emblazoned on it, complimenting Julia’s dark coloured helmet. Lily sat behind Julia on the passenger seat, and held on to her waist. “Hold on tight.” Julia said, right before she sped off.

“Where are we going?!” Lily yelled over the noise of the bike.

“You’ll see!”

Giggling, Lily had an inkling about where Julia was taking her, but she didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Slowly, she leaned forward and rested her head on Julia’s back, hugging her from the behind. Unbeknownst to Lily, Julia’s heart skipped a beat.

“We’re here.” Julia announced. They were at the bank of Yeouido River, at the exact spot where they had promised to reunite a year prior. The two girls walked over to the stone stairs leading down to the river, sitting on the second step.

“It’s just as beautiful as I remember.” Lily said. They were just in time to catch the sunset, which burned the sky a brilliant array of pink, yellow and red. A soft breeze blew in from the west, a gentle, cool wind.

“Hey Julia?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for remembering.” Lily said.

“Even if I’m over a week late?” Julia teased.

“Yeah! What gives, ya dummy?” Lily shot back, grinning from ear to ear.

For a while, the two of them sat and watched the sunset, just like old times. As the sun sank below the horizon, Lily said to Julia, looking into her eyes,

“I missed you.”

The golden sunlight formed a halo behind Julia’s head. Her gaze was impossibly warm, Lily felt herself getting lost in it.

“I missed you too.”

#weaktober #weak hero #lily nam #Julia chae #weak hero lily #weak hero julia #weaktober day 7 #this is horrendously late im so sorry #worked on this for 3 days lol #weak hero july #lily x julia #weak hero lily x julia #am I tagging this right

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byanyan · 5 months

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@lee-sol sent:ㅤhe’s been concentrating on forming the perfect drink for the past twenty, hellbent on adding something new to his menu. it’s almost like he’s working on a science experiment, putting a very specific amount of flavor into a cup, writing down how much of the flavor he’s put in, and repeating the process a few more times. it’s like he’s in his own little world of concentration, so much so, that he’s barely glanced up to look at them. and if they had tried to speak to him, their words had gone completely unnoticed. in his defense though, this is what happens when they visit the shop during one of his slow times, and that pressure to switch menu items loomed over him like some threatening presence. but finally… his efforts hopefully pay off, when he seems to be satisfied with his concoction. it’s a holiday themed drink, a traditional peppermint mocha, with an experimental hint of hazelnut. and to make the ensemble more festive, it’s topped with whipped cream and holiday sprinkles. there’s a bright smile on his face, as he slides the drink towards them, hopefully making up for the fact that he’d unintentionally been ignoring them for the past twenty minutes. “ will you taste this and let me know if i should add it to the menu? i wanted to try something different from other coffee places, but i dunno if it’d be a success. ” even though he’s sure they won’t turn him down, he’s batting his eyelashes just in case. “ maybe i’ll let you help me name it. haven’t come up with any ideas yet, so… ”

ㅤhaving given up on talking or trying to get sol's attention about ten minutes ago, byan is leaned forward against the order pickup counter, elbows perched on the surface as they idly scroll through tiktoks. as interesting as it is to watch him while he's in his zone of concentration, focused so seriously on whatever drink he's making, it only holds their attention for so long before they need another source of stimulation. considering he hadn't even turned around at their whines for attention, they suspect that nothing short of stepping behind the counter to physically grab him will succeed in getting them what they want. thus, they wait with an impatient sort of patience that only sol is truly capable of earning from them.

attention fully grasped by the video of a cat being startled by a cucumber, notes being taken for the next time they see fit to get a bit of revenge on jjijji, they almost don't notice that sol has finally turned away from the drink station. only when the cup touches the countertop and gets pushed toward them do their eyes lift, first to the (admittedly cute) drink, then to their boyfriend's face. despite planning for the last twenty or so minutes to pout with every intention of making him feel bad for ignoring them, they can't do anything about the way their lips start to curve at the eagerness in his expression. curse his stupidly adorable smile and the effect it still has over them after all this time!!

ㅤㅤ" mmh... try the thing that was more important than paying attention to me? i dunno... "ㅤadjusting their own smile to something playfully skeptical, byan scrunches their nose and looks back down at the drink in question. sol continues, and the corner of their mouth twitches slightly at the mention of helping him name it.

ㅤㅤ" guessin' that 'up yours, starbucks' is still one i'm not allowed to suggest? "ㅤtrying to look disappointed despite the smirk that continues to creep its way across their face, they look back up and— god dammit, he's batting his eyelashes now. it's not like they were actually going to turn him down, but now it's harder than ever to pretend like they might! heaving an overdramatic sigh even as their expression softens once more, byan reaches out and pulls the drink closer.

ㅤㅤ" okay, okay, i'll give it a taste. you're lucky i can't say no to whipped cream. "ㅤor their boyfriend's obnoxiously adorable face and gorgeous long lashes. now grinning away, they roll their eyes and lift the cup to their lips, taking a cautious sip so as to avoid burning their tongue.

ㅤㅤ" hey, that's— "ㅤpause. squint. open mouth. close mouth. furrow eyebrows. go in for another, larger sip. still looking rather perplexed as they hold the sip in their mouth for an extra moment, byan swallows and gives it a second for the aftertaste to hit again.

ㅤㅤ" that's really good, "ㅤthey finally decide, their smile returning with a hint of puzzlement as they meet sol's gaze.ㅤ" tastes like a normal peppermint mocha at first, but then there's, like... this whisper of somethin' else that caught me by surprise. i like it, though! i'm gonna finish it, actually — i was gonna weasel a regular mocha outta you, but this shit's even better. "ㅤeyebrows wiggle playfully, and byan raises the cup to their mouth for yet another drink, during which they hum their appreciation for his creation. finishing with a slightly obnoxious smack of their lips, they nod.ㅤ" yep, definitely add this one to the menu. 'f no one else likes it, i'll drink enough of it for all of 'em. "

#lee-sol #━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ answered: ic ⋮ i am a vulture that feeds on pain.#━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ verse: adulthood.#this is the absolute fluffiest thing i've written in a while #but it's CUTE i'll always love him having them try his drink ideas #and once he tells them that that hint of something is hazelnut? they'll suggest hazelmint mocha for the name

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saviorfoxowlis · 1 year

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N:Era: Where We Lie Part 5: Close Your Eyes

Flashback: One year prior.

Mosor, Vanos, and Kyofi struck out from Ralax Islands first in their family. Ahmond found herself in the next wave, going as an apprentice under her older brother and cousins.

Her parents sent her with a sandwich, two Drakold of money, and a ticket.

Ahmond never saw Wysdom before, however, her emigration took her on a course through upper Rosaberg, down towards Sunnyvilla.

Vanos was the one who primarily trained her in the art of ice creamery because he was her older brother. The triad made a powerful business force, despite mostly struggling through the years. Vanos had a better way with customers, Mosor had a better way with numbers and records, meanwhile, Kyofi was best at making ice cream.

However, Vanos and Mosor both had special powers, which Ahmond had too - Qualities. A specific type of magic that amplified a trait. Upon discovery, Owlis took interest in the Ice Cream Pack. So her first week of Wysdom, she was invited to talk to the Empress.

Everyone swung around under the chandelier, covered with perfumes, and body sprays. Owlis talked with Mosor. Both drank grape juice and laughed - however, Mosor's was forced.

Owlis' eyes fell on Ahmond, and she felt like her soul was being searched. Averting her gaze, she went over to the punch bowl.

"Ahmond, come over here," Mosor had said, with a performed grin. "I must apologize, Ahmond is really out of her element here, and she's very shy."

Ahmond's ears perked up as she walked up towards the fox. Despite being half-wolf, she was still shorter than the Empress. She ambled and sat behind one of Mosor's forelegs.

"Hallo, Ahmond," Owlis told her. "Your Quality is Dependability. How does that work?"

"Oh, um, I would need a volunteer. This can only work on someone else."

A pink hyena snickered. "Not much of a power if you need help."

Ahmond pinned her ears. An older hyena, clearly her parent, gave a faint smile and said in a quite condescending manner, "We don't tease others."

Owlis rolled her eyes and said, "How about you demonstrate on Lilu?"

The pink hyena from before cautiously took a few steps toward her. She whispered, "If you do anything that I'm not going to like, I swear I will rip your throat out."

Feeling some sweat, Ahmond said, "Find someone you can't lift."

"Someone who I can't lift? Probably you. But I'll find someone else, oh great magician," and Lilu would stalk around, before looking at Vanos, and she got underneath him and stood up as best she could. Vanos raised a brow.

Ahmond put her paw down and an essence of magic came from her. Mocha-colored waves flowed in and flooded the body of Lilu. She gasped, shocked, as suddenly, the hyena was lifting the coywolf.

Several of the party goers clapped at the display while Owlis said, "I see, so your power increases the strength of others."

Ahmond said, "Not only that." She released the power and Lilu was crushed underneath Vanos. "I can ampli... Amplifi... Amplificate powers."

Owlis said, "Excellent. Anyway, my girl, we've been talking. You're only 24, yes?"

"Yes."

Owlis seemingly went over a few calculations in her head. "In that case, you're absolutely a perfect fit, because I've been wanting a few children in our community helping out, and I think you would be a benefit to the organization of N:Era."

"I don't know what N:Era is," Ahmond said.

"N:Era stands for Next Era," Owlis told her. "Your main missions and objectives will be helping out the land in various ways."

"Like picking up litter?"

"Erm, yes, that's definitely one way. I'm asking your siblings, Vanos and Mosor, to be teachers because I know of their powers, and I think these qualities will enhance the mainland."

Ralax Islands were both part of and not part of Wysdom. They existed as a legal gray area for some reason Ahmond never really figured out, so she was never sure if she was from Wysdom or not. Certainly not culturally.

"Okay," Ahmond said with a nod.

"Go ahead and play with the others," Mosor said.

Ahmond went back for the punch bowl when she saw the pink hyena with a crimson. "Sooo," the hyena said, "my name is Lilu, and that was an interesting trick we saw. What's your name, Kid?"

"A-H-M-O-N-D."

"Is that pronounced Ahmond or Ahmond?"

"Uh, Ahmond."

"Take a walk with us..."

That had happened over a year ago, at a time she could have had a great life, in a great empire.

Ahmond was now sitting on cold grass, by a misty bay, in the capital of Wysdom known as Lavandar. She is currently friends with that hyena and crimson.

She was taking a walk with Owlis, their feet getting sucked in by the muddy swamp. The odor of moss grew stronger as lake waters kept slapping each other. Ahmond wasn't sure why Owlis wanted to meet her at night, but perhaps that made burying bodies easier.

Ahmond attempted breaking obvious tension by saying, "I heard that this swamp is known as a fen because the place is alkaline. I read that in a book."

"I see."

"Rosod finds stuff out through school because her family can afford school, but my family has some struggles. But she learns a bunch of stuff she says is useless and boring..."

They arrived at the lake and Owlis said, "Ahmond, your family took out the loan for business about a couple of months ago, and I've tried being patient, I really have. But for some reason, despite a very hot Spring season that should have helped your business immensely, I haven't been getting anything back, and instead, I get scammed. You attempted giving me my own money."

Ahmond looked away. "I just, well we don't-"

"Well maybe we should nip the situation in the butt, how about you tell me more about financial struggles. Tell me where that money went exactly."

Owlis was proof lie detectors were unnecessary because she could pry anything from anybody. Ahmond felt the stone in her stomach, as she said, "Okay, the truth is we spent a bit of the loan on stuff that wasn't business."

"I was suspecting as such."

"...We bought wrestling tickets, jazz tickets, and lottery tickets." Ahmond blurted the words out as her legs shook. "Why are you only going after me, why not the rest of my cousins?"

"I don't remember your cousins letting an attempted regicider back in the kingdom while giving them sanctuary."

Ahmond received another flashback. Several months ago, when Cyras first invaded Civic lands, she attacked and attempted murdering Owlis. Despite being captured, the wild fox escaped.

Ahmond, who had known the news, brought Cyras back. Secluded her. Wrapped her in a scarf.

Yeah, harboring a fugitive was already a major offense.

Ahmond looked for an excuse but noticed a set of shadowy figures on the lake. One of them looked like a hyena, and one of them looked like, well…

"VANOS!" Ahmond shouted as the fog cleared up a bit as Owlis summoned a few winds, pushing the atmosphere away.

Owlis told her, "He can't hear you, the winds are very strong." Maypol, the primary hyena guard, stood behind Vanos.

"Don't worry, little one," Owlis told her in an oddly soothing voice. "I wasn't only going after you, you were simply the one who I was warning. The eyes of the Owl are everywhere across this entire empire, every single square inch of these 500,000 square miles is under my surveillance."

Owlis picked up a walkst-whilst-talkst. "Hit him."

Maypol picked up the heavy canoe paddle, which dangled at an angle because of the heaviness. However, she lifted up and adjusted, showing her jaw's massive strength.

Vanos said, "In the name of the four elder gods, and the four main ice cream flavors, I thank the water for blessing this place with beauty. Amint."

Maypol swung the canoe paddle at Vanos. Even Owlis' sound dampening couldn't stop the sound, as the Empress hung her head.

Ahmond's pupils dilated.

Owlis whispered in her ear, "Where's. My. Money."

***

Rosod approached her parents. Because Crimson culture was known for large families, a bunch of siblings aired grievances. This meant the parents would be broken. They wouldn't argue.

Rosod entered the birch office room while carrying a delicate and artistically crafted forgery of a school field trip permission slip. Her dad was busy with some papers of his own, organizing them, while her mother marked stuff in red ink on a calendar.

"Mother, Father, I was wondering if I could attend this field trip for school, where we will be going out towards the Rosaberg Kingdom. The trip does cost a bit of money though." She gave a shy, bashful head gesture so her parents thought she was being reticent about asking for money.

Her father pored over the note, and read aloud as he always did. "Mm, to the parents of Rosod... mm... Put down any allergies or food intolerances... The faculty members are not responsible for any harm such as loss of fingers, limbs, beheading, re-heading on the wrong body, measles, mumps, other diseases, or loss of eyeballs... Sign here... I really don't think we will be signing off on this one."

"Huh?" Rosod asked.

"Well Sweetheart, we've got news that you're attending the birthday party of your friend, Cyras. That Field Trip is on the same day."

Her mom asked, "Speaking of, why are they only telling us about the trip now?"

Rosod went blank. She put the field trip on the same day as Cyras' birthday which was the same day as Ahmond's punishment so she could get the money before the punishment.

"Besides," her dad said, "Rosaberg is a long way away and is very rainy. However, you should go back to studying."

"Yes, Dad," she said as she walked back to her room.

A few hours passed. She failed Ahmond. However, she heard a ringing on the phone.

"Rosod, someone wants you," one of her little brothers said.

Rosod put down the pencil, cracked her knuckles, and came down the stairs. She wasn't sure who would be calling at this hour. Usually, Lilu was too busy "doing literally anything" else when she called her, but maybe that wasn't a two-way street.

"You dodge my calls but expect me to answer yours. Typical." Rosod put the phone to her ear, eyes half-lidded.

"Rosod," a voice came. Whispery, lighter than Lilu's, and sorta lower-pitched.

"Huh? Who are you?"

"Ahmond!"

"I never heard your voice over a telephone before. Alright, what's up?"

"I'm in jail.."

Ahmond gave a brief recap of events during that night, how Owlis had threatened her, how she saw her brother get whacked by one of Owlis' guards, and how she got arrested.

"Ahmond, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Am I really supposed to stand here, mouth agape, and believe half of the lies you just told me."

"This really happened!"

"Look, my parents aren't going to give me the money, so short of me literally going in their wallets, I don't think I can help you. And yes, I did try that."

Another ringing came, as Rosod said, "Please hold."

Lilu said, "Hey, did you know that Ahmond got arrested?"

Rosod rolled her eyes, as Lilu began laughing over the phone, in an electronically distorted tone of voice.

"Lilu, that's not funny," Ahmond said. Then a third ringing came to all of them, as all three said, "Please hold. Hello, who is this?"

"I would like to order a pizza. Here's my idea."

Rosod deepened her voice as she said, "Yes this is Rosita's, please tell me what your order is."

"Okay, well I would like two large pizzas, with pepperoni, ham, cheese, meatballs, mari...mari... marigold? Sauce, bacon, and sausage. And a small drink of water, please."

Under her breath, the weasel muttered, "Does her palace not have flunking water- Cyras! This isn't a pizza line!"

"Oh, I must have pressed the wrong button."

Lilu asked, "Wait you have Owlis' dungeon on speed-dial?"

"I don't know what speed-dial is," Cyras said, "and wouldn't you? What else is speed-dial for besides prison and pizza?"

"People who have something called 'friends'," Rosod said.

"I talk to you all day, I need some me time, as in me and a pizza time."

Lilu questioned, "Where are you even putting all of that? That's like 4000 calories worth of food."

Ahmond said, "Ahem, I don't wanna be pushy, but Maypol said explicitly she'd tap my tushy. Please, there's no way I can get any money now that I'm in jail."

"Holding, actually. KARV!" Lilu said. "When do people get their butts blistered when they're in holding? ...He says thirteen hours. So at Cyras' party."

"I'm glad the entire palace knows."

Cyras said, " I've got a great idea."

"Breaking me out?"

"Oh no, sorry, I thought I was calling pizza this time. I was going to say put down all the meats."

Rosod mulled this over and being the coordinator amongst the girls, she actually had a plan. "Here's my suggestion, but this depends on what level of the dungeon you're at, Ahmond."

"Um, I'm at third class."

Cyras said, "Seriously, there are class divisions in prisons? Lilu, when you told me that your castle had servants' corridors so Jazmyn wouldn't have to see their ugly faces, I thought that was extreme."

Lilu said, "Class divides everything."

"Yeah, well good news then," Cyras said. "Owlis loves hearing the tortured screams of the punished so there's actually a few grates around the left of the palace. So, maybe, at my party, we could all go by the grates and bust Ahmond out through the sky."

"Sounds good," Lilu said, "and we'll give Ahmond a fake name. We'll say Bruise is her new name since she's been in prison."

"My name is not gonna be Bruise..."

"Good night, Bruise," Lilu said, "good night Cyras." She hung up.

Rosod said, "I have a name. Anyway, good night Cyras, good night, Bruise."

"That's not my name!"

"Good night, Ahmond."

"Thanks, Cyras."

"What is your full name?"

"Ahmond Brews Freezer."

"Huh?"

"I'm just kidding."

"Shut up, Bruise."

Cyras hung up but as she turned around, she saw a purple fox.

#Cyras #NEra #Coywolf #Ahmond #Lilu

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starlightinhumanform · 3 years

Text

Nothing Sweeter

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Moxiety, Platonic Analoceit (only mentioned)

Summary: When Virgil agreed to work a cashier shift at the bakery, Logan had assured him that they never get customers that late. Instead, Virgil comes face to face with the cutest customer he’s ever seen.

Warnings: None! (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Bakery AU, Tooth-rotting Fluff

A/N: This was written for a request for @catemons-blog ! I haven’t written these babies in such a long time and to was so nice to write them again!! All reblogs and replies are greatly appreciated <3 Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Virgil could feel flour beneath his nails, the warm dough under his hands, his arms moving automatically in the comforting, repetitive shifts of kneading bread. The bakery was like a second home to him but, more specifically, he loved the kitchen. He loved the whole cafe but the front wasn’t where he belonged— Logan and Janus took care of that— but this world of warmth and sweetness and soft scents, that was his.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, they just didn’t seem to click. It seemed like he was always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time or missing some social cue that was apparently obvious to everyone else but invisible to him. No, Virgil loved people and he loved to share what he made with them; it was just a lot lower stress to work behind the scenes.

So he surprised even himself when he agreed to run both the front and the back of the cafe for the night. Maybe it was Logan’s promise that nobody came in on a weekday in the late evening. Maybe it was Janus’ bribe that he would make Virgil an extra special mocha coffee tomorrow. Maybe it was the combined power of their pleading eyes. Whatever the case, Virgil found himself alone in the cafe on a late Wednesday evening, with nothing but his hands and his work for company.

Logan had been right— Virgil hadn’t seen a customer since his shift started at 7:00 and as the time stretched forward, it began to seem less and less likely that some would order a coffee this late at night.

When the door chime ran at 10 pm, Virgil was half-expecting it to be Logan or Janus stopping by to see how he was doing (and probably to steal a jam-filled cookie or two).

Virgil walked into the front of the store to say hello but was instead faced by a stranger. They had a round face with large blue eyes and a mop of curly blond hair sweeping down their forehead— their face wasn’t ringing any bells. But Virgil didn’t really know the customer’s; he knew their orders .

He quirked an eyebrow as went down the list of regular customers this stranger could be and began taking guesses, “A dozen maple doughnut bars?”

“Um, no actually I want—” Their voice was soft but had a gravely quality that bite at the ends of their words. The voice was unfamiliar to Virgil but for some reason, he wanted to hear it more.

“Hmm, a ciabatta loaf and three everything bagels?”

“No… I was hoping you had—”

“Oh, I know! A loaf of rye, a loaf of pumpernickel, and a loaf of sourdough?”

The stranger began laughing. It was a nice laugh, Virgil guessed, but he couldn’t figure out what was so funny. He could feel his cheeks beginning to turn red; he had said something wrong again, hadn’t he?

They stopped laughing long enough to flash Virgil a bright, amused smile, “Are you going to keep guessing the entire night until you get my order right?”

The customer didn’t seem mad, he wasn’t even laughing at Virgil; he was laughing… because of Virgil? Virgil had made them laugh and that felt very very different than being laughed at. Their laughs ran through the empty little dining area and bounced off the display case, almost entirely empty by this time of day. Their laughs made Virgil feel good, even if he didn’t quite understand what was so funny.

Virgil let himself take another look at the person in front of him. There was a warm, sweet sensation beginning to flutter in his stomach and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The customer was cute, no doubt about it. They were wearing large, round-framed glasses, nearly as gold as their hair. Behind the glasses, their eyes were one of the bluest blue Virgil had ever seen— like water drawn in a saturated kid’s cartoon. They were wearing a blue top tucked into a white pleated skirt and white mary-jane shoes. The skirt had attached suspender straps, one of which had a small pin on it. Looking closer, Virgil realized the pin was a small transgender pride flag with the pronouns “he/him” stamped over it. Ok, so the customer was a he ; and he was really, really cute.

Virgil tried to snap his mind back on focus. The man in front of him had stopped laughing but was still looking at him with a soft, somewhat lopsided smile.

Virgil looked down at his hands, feeling like making eye contact with this person was just a little too much right now. He cleared his throat, “So, uh, do you want to order something?”

“No, I actually was just planning on standing here for the rest of the night.”

“Really?” Virgil could feel his eyebrows furrowing together.

“No, no,” He stepped closer to the counter Virgil was behind, “I was just joking, sweetheart.”

Sometimes Virgil had a hard time catching social cues but the way he said “sweetheart” held too much kindness and sincerity for Virgil to miss its meaning. Virgil’s blush grew to a deep crimson.

He walked all the way to the counter so he and Virgil were only a foot apart. Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to flirt with him or run away to the kitchen. Somehow, putting a stove fire out seemed easier than talking to this customer.

Virgil shook his hands below the counter, hoping stimming would help release all of the energy and feelings bouncing around in his body. He tried to remember what Logan had told him in case customers did come in; there were specifically steps Logan was very particular about, “Could I get a name for your order?”

“Of course! My name’s Patton!”

God, even his name is cute.

“Your name’s Virgil?”

Virgil glanced down at his name tag as if he needed reminding of what it said. He nodded in confirmation of Patton’s question.

“That’s such a pretty name,” Patton’s smile reminded him of opening an oven door on a cold day, the warmth and sweetness rolling over him in waves. He felt like he was melting.

Patton’s eyes wandered over the menu board, licking his lips absentmindedly as he tried to make a decision. Virgil wished he could stop looking at his lips.

Finally he looked back over at Virgil, “Could I get three muffins—”

“Uh huh,” Virgil nodded as he jotted the words down on the receipt the way Logan had asked him to.

“—and, uh,” Patton leaned forward even a little closer, “Could I get your number?”

Virgil forgot how to talk in that moment, feelings of happiness practically vibrating through him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he just exploded, just nodding his head to answer Patton like his life depended on it.

Virgil moved as if he were in a dream, packaging the muffins as Patton paid. He felt like the planet’s gravity had suddenly been turned down and he was floating a few inches off the ground. He quickly scribbled his phone number on the bag before handing it to Patton.

“Oh! I almost forgot something!”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow at Patton’s exclamation, “You did?”

“Yeah! Your tip for such great service.”

“No, no you already gave a tip. See, it’s on your receipt beneath—”

Virgil froze as Patton leaned forward and planted a kiss on Virgil’s cheek.

“There! Extra tip for being so cute,” Patton gave him that lovely, warm smile before turning with a wave and walking out of the bakery.

Virgil sank to the floor, disregarding whether or not that was a health code violation. He didn’t care about that right now. His face was tingling and his heart was racing and he felt out of breath. He clapped his hands together, happy stims taking over for a moment as he processed the interaction he had just had with the cutest boy he had ever seen. Maybe working in the front of the bakery had its own benefits…

Virgil couldn’t stop smiling.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist just send me an ask or reply to this post :)

General Sanders Sides Taglist: ~ @centimeter-tries-to-communicate @bee-syndrome @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @mossdeemo @im-actually-ok@softnic @catolicabuena @queer-disaster106 @lunawolf89 ~

#moxiety #romantic moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #virgil x patton #moxiety fluff #moxiety bakery au #moxiety fanfic #sanders sides #sanders sides fluff #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides bakery au #tooth rotting fluff #moxiety meet cute #platonic analoceit #autistic!virgil #trans!patton #my fics #starlight writes

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cotccotc · 3 years

Text

genre/s: felix x barista!reader (gender neutral), fluff, angst, coworkers to lovers au, bakery / barista au (feat. baker / bff!minho, (strict) manager!chan, barista!jeongin, and baker!seungmin)

wc: 6.9k 😎

warnings: many mentions of food (specifically sweets such as cupcakes, brownies, cookies, etc.), some swearing, arguing, probably very poor editing oops <3

a/n: this is part of the @districtninewriters “dear skz, with love” event :D THIS IS ALSO THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN AHHH i’m really really proud of it !!! i hope u love it besties !!!!!!!!

it was a frostbitten february evening when you met the boy at the bakery.

you were seated upon the counter, back turned to the deep brown door through which you’d first entered months ago, eager to apply for a barista position. minho sat across from you on the cashier stool. he was always better with the baked goods. you were a great team. the two of you were bored; a familiar feeling that accompanied weeknights at the bakery-cafe. people tended to arrive either in the morning time or late in the afternoon, and very seldom later. plus, your manager trusted the two of you enough to lock up on your own. and so, the two of you would be left to your own devices for a few measly hours a night per week.

“i bet you couldn’t make a batch of sugar biscuits without instructions,” he teased with a snarky grin. he was right. that was more his thing than yours.

so, you retaliated. “i bet you can’t do the same with a mocha frappe. or even simpler: an iced americano.”

“please!”

“oh yeah? step right up, biscuit boy,” you retorted with a giggle, gesturing to the coffee maker that sat beside him. there were multiple in the shop, and truth be told, he had no idea which was used for what types of beverages.

confidently, he grabbed a cup from the stack on the table behind him, striding over to one of the machines. he then took a look at all the knobs and buttons, clearing his throat. you chuckled. with his finger ghosting over one of the buttons, he turned back toward you to check for your reaction. “not even close,” you remarked. he clicked his tongue, turning back toward the coffee maker. “just a hint,” you added, “the first step isn’t coffee.”

he simply looked up, bewildered. he turned back toward you, dropping his hands to his sides and parting his lips into a circular expression of disbelief.

suddenly, the sparkling tone of the door chime behind you caught both of your attention. peculiar. nobody was usually around at that hour. as minho put his cup back on the table, you hopped off the counter, turning toward the front of the store.

in walked one of the most strikingly handsome boys you think you’ve ever seen. if not the most handsome. an angular face; fair, slightly pink-tinted skin decorated with the most endearing assortment of freckles. they were almost reminiscent of the chocolate sprinkles minho used to top off the cupcakes situated inside the glass counter case. his hair was a vanilla blond and long enough to delicately cascade over the side edges of his face. cherry red lips that parted upon his arrival, chocolatey brown eyes staring right back at yours. he was astonishing.

“how can we help you?” minho asked him, stepping forward. he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes seemed to be bugging out of your head. he had to stifle a chuckle or two.

the boy’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment. or maybe you dreamed it that way. regardless, he walked up to the counter, inquisitively placing his hands behind his back and bent over to glance at the contents of the case. “hi! uh…” he seemed sweet, though his voice was much deeper than you’d expected. it was unique. he was unique. and in quite a rush, as well. “...shit,” he cursed under his breath. he seemed to have startled himself with his expression. he looked back up at you, then at minho, a tight-lipped smile and strawberry-pink blush appearing on his face. “sorry,” he said.

minho finally let out a chuckle. “no worries. what’re you looking for?” he was always so good with the customers. smooth yet considerate, witty, yet firm. you always aspired to be a little more like minho when it came to customer service.

“do you have any of the salted caramel cupcakes left? they seem to be gone.”

“ah, we seem to have run out of those. could i interest you in a peanut butter cupcake instead?”

the boy shook his head. “no… she likes caramel.”

she. there was a she.

“may i ask what the occasion is?” minho asked.

“it’s my mom’s birthday, and she’ll be home from work soon... hopefully. i would’ve made my own gift to her but i didn’t have the time…”

“enough said,” your coworker assured him. “does she like chocolate? we have a few salted caramel brownies in the back.”

he almost gasped. “that’s perfect!” he paused. “um… how much is that? i-is it more than the cupcake, or…?”

minho glanced through the glass at the tag beside the brownie tray. “nope. less, actually.”

the boy let out a short sigh of relief. “great. thanks so much.”

“ah, it’s nothing. one sec,” minho said before walking into the kitchen to grab the brownie from the fridge. an awkward silence ensued between you and the boy.

“a name for the order?” you blurted. dumbass, you thought to yourself.

“i’m… the only one in the store…” he replied.

heat rose to your cheeks. “i… um… it’s protocol-”

“felix.” he cut you off before you could embarrass yourself further. he could tell you were nervous.

a unique name as well. of course.

“coming right up, felix,” you murmured, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. both of you chuckled.

minho came back out to the counter holding a small blue box with the cafe logo on top. “you’re all set! that’ll be…” he pressed few buttons into the cash register before continuing. “ten thousand won.”

“perfect.” felix grabbed his wallet out of his coat pocket. he pulled out a few bills from the black leather case, handing them to minho with a small smile. he was excited to surprise his mother, and happy that it wouldn’t cost as much as he’d thought it would. and you found it adorable.

minho took the money, ringing felix up and inserting the bills into the register. he handed felix the box, which made the boy’s face light up even more. it was hard for you to suppress a similar countenance. “i hope she likes it. have a good night!” minho said, closing the register. he crossed his arms and leaned on the counter as felix waved to the both of you and began walking back toward the door.

“thanks so much. you too,” he said, giving minho a small bow.

with his hand on the door, he glanced back at you once more. you smiled. he returned the expression. and just like that, with a brief gust of cold air sweeping through the shop, the boy was gone.

“you, uh… you know we only take names when there’s a line, right?” minho teased as the door shut, the chime letting out what seemed to be a pitied laugh.

you held your hands up to your forehead. “ugh, i know! i’m such an idiot,” you replied, letting your nerves go with a chuckle. he patted you on the shoulder, laughing with you.

in between laughs, he remarked, “he really made you that nervous, huh?”

“you could tell?! oh, great… wonderful!”

the two of you carried on for a moment, making light of the otherwise mortifying exchange. but finally, minho glanced at the clock and asked, “would you mind locking up tonight? i’ve got a date.”

“ooh!” you cooed, taunting him. “a date... who’s the not-so-lucky lady?”

“what joke book did you get that one from, hm? i had no idea you even knew how to read!” you gave him a playful punch in the arm for his sarcastic dig, causing him to giggle. yet, he answered your question, saying, “it’s a girl i met on the train home from school the other night. chaeyoung.” he looked off to the side, seemingly entranced. “she’s really witty and smart… and gorgeous. like... gorgeous.”

“ah, yes… so gorgeous that it causes men to leave their posts… and friends…”

“if i bring you back some takeout, will you quit being an ass?”

you pondered the question for a moment. and, while you’d be bored as hell in his absence, closing up the shop wasn’t much of a hassle on weeknights… and, well, you could always go for a free meal. “...pleasure doing business with you, lee minho.”

“thank you. as with you,” he commented in return. he took off the periwinkle blue, involuntarily worn apron which you’ve both been made to wear, revealing what you hadn’t even noticed was a dressy outfit. well, dressier than usual. he’d opted for a pale blue button-up shirt, tucked into black skinny jeans, all tied together by a chic black belt and a pair of black loafers. not to mention the small silver hoop earrings and matching necklace. you had to admit, he did look dapper.

he quickly strode to the back of the kitchen at which there resided a small storage room where you and the other employees usually dropped off your belongings. he grabbed his backpack and put on his long black coat, quickly making his way back up to the counter and walking around to the front of the store. “catch you tomorrow! thanks again.”

“takeout! don’t forget!”

“i couldn’t even if i tried,” he retorted, opening the door. the two of you waved to each other before he took his leave.

moments later, the door opened once again. you figured minho must’ve forgotten something. looking up, you began to ask, “what’d you forget this ti-”

it wasn’t minho.

it was felix.

he paused in his footing, little blue box still in hand. you jumped just a little. he noticed. “s-sorry… i just, um…” he looked off to the side. “i guess this is a bit of a long shot... considering the two of you seem to be more than enough staff… but…” he paused again, taking a moment to straighten his posture and scratch the back of his head. “is there any chance you might be hiring… any time soon?”

the answer was no. undoubtedly. he was right in thinking that you, minho, and the other employees were perfectly capable of handling the cafe. though some mornings and weekends were a bit tight, the team made it work. if this was anybody else, you could’ve easily said no.

yet, he persisted. “i can bake! i like to think i’ve been getting better at it… and i can clean as well.”

you couldn’t turn him down. you simply couldn’t. not with those kind eyes locking themselves with yours, the enthusiasm in his deep voice, or the hastening beat of your heart. “i’ll talk to my manager!” you affirmed. you smiled, causing a similar reaction out of him. an idea popped into your mind. if only for a moment, you thought it was the best you’d ever had. your eyes averted themselves to the pale yellow note pad and ballpoint pen on the counter, used to take orders from seated customers. “here,” you said, reaching for the pen and paper and handing it to felix. “if you’ll give me your number, i can text you with any updates.”

he walked back up to the counter for the second time that night, taking his number down on the pad. as you watched him intently, eyes fixated on his concentrated face, you silently praised yourself for being so brave. especially after the whole name debacle. your heart was at its wits’ end. “there,” he said, placing the pen down on the counter and sliding the notepad back to you. “i really appreciate it.” he sounded so genuine. he flashed you another smile. he had such a grand, bright, toothy smile. it would stay in your memory for days, weeks, even months to come. you can still recall it now.

“it’s no problem,” you responded. “...i really hope your mom likes the brownie.”

“thanks. i’m sure she will.” he turned to walk toward the door. you almost turned away as well, excited to examine the style with which he’d written on the pad, until he spun back around once more. “oh! one more thing… can i get your name as well?”

the question came as a bit of a surprise. you nodded to him, letting out a short giggle. “y/n.”

he grinned again. it was smaller that time; a bit more subdued. effortfully so. “ah. well…” he began walking backward, eyes connected with yours as he headed toward the door. “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, felix.”

and thus, your pursuit for a job offering began.

your manager, chan, was reluctant to accept your proposal for him to give felix an interview. however, you made note of how eager he’d seemed that night and the skills he’d mentioned having. you also mentioned how he’d been so enthused to find out the price of his order. and so, after a couple days’ worth of mulling it over, chan finally gave in.

you weren’t supposed to be at the cafe when felix was being interviewed. however, your saturday afternoon shift had just ended, and the place was essentially empty. well… apart from you, chan, felix, and then jeongin, who wandered in from the storage room to find you eavesdropping from behind the wall separating the kitchen and the dining area.

“y/n?” he asked. “what are you-”

you inaudibly shushed him, motioning for him to come closer and hide with you. he did so.

“chan’s interviewing someone,” you whispered to the boy.

“ah…” he responded, his tone hushed. “so why are we hiding?”

“because we’re not supposed to be listening.”

“so why are we doing it?”

“because i want to know how it’s going.”

“so why can’t you just-”

you shushed him again. he obliged, covering his mouth with his hand.

from the other side of the wall, chan asked, “so felix, do you have a resume?”

“uh…” felix stammered. you could hear the nerves in his voice.

“let me put it this way,” chan offered instead. “do you have any prior working experience? at another cafe, another store, a completely different place...?”

“oh! yes. i’ve bagged groceries at the supermarket on third street for the last few months. that’s where my mom works. but i’d much rather work here, if i’m honest...”

“ah. okay.” chan nodded, jotting down some notes in his notebook. “so y/n told me you could clean...”

before chan could finish, felix proudly exclaimed, “i can! i do a lot of cleaning at home.”

“perfect.”

the interview went on for a few more minutes. jeongin let out a few silent chuckles every once in a while, mocking your state of concentration. but who could blame you? you just wanted to make sure felix got the position. he seemed to need it.

you totally weren’t in it for his smile… the freckles… the adorable creases that formed at the edges of his eyes when he grinned with that sweet, genuine, toothy grin of his… no, not at all…

nevertheless, he got the job.

“i love this apron,” felix had said to you on his first day. he was quite fond of your uniform. everyone else in the shop hated them; what, with the pale blue color, white pinstripe pattern, and the ‘one-size-fits-all’ design. yet, in every sense of the phrase, it fit felix perfectly.

“i’m glad someone does,” you replied. he laughed.

“when i got the cleaning job, i wasn’t sure i’d get to wear one. but i’m happy i do.” he smiled at you, his pearlescent teeth on full display and face aglow with joy.

after about a week of training, felix became a natural at his job. though it wasn’t much, he took great pride in his work and enjoyed taking any opportunity he saw to do a little extra sweeping, some more dish washing, and even some dusting here and there.

he also fit right into the employee dynamic. every once in a while, you’d find him playing hand games with jeongin. or, sometimes, minho would discuss baking with him, as he often noted his affinity for it.

“have you ever tried using oats in your chocolate chip cookies?” felix asked. it was monday night. and, as per usual, the shop was devoid of customers.

minho looked puzzled. “oats?”

“yeah. it adds a little nuttiness. it’s really, really good.”

“huh… i’ll have to try it out sometime. i like to add a bit of coffee grounds to the flour when i make mine.” then, he leaned in to whisper, “don’t tell chan, though.” felix let out a nervous giggle.

“don’t worry,” you said to him. “minho’s only kidding. i’d never let him touch my coffee grounds.” this made all three of you laugh.

after the laughter died down, felix looked at the clock. it was four in the afternoon. “well, my shift is over,” he said. you were disappointed. hanging out with felix had become a bit of a highlight for you. he always carried himself so kindly. he had a bubbly soul, and a pure twinkle took residence in his eye whenever he smiled. you couldn’t help but feel light and airy while around him.

“hey, i’ve been meaning to ask,” minho started to felix. “do you bike here?”

the other boy was confused. “no. why?”

“oh… then, do you walk?”

“yeah. it’s only a few blocks,” felix responded, shrugging.

“do you need a ride?”

felix paused to think. “don’t you need to stay here? to lock up and everything…”

“i’ll come right back.”

you chimed in, suggesting, “i can close tonight.”

“you sure?” minho asked you. “i don’t have any food to bribe you with this time.” you both chuckled.

“it’s fine by me,” you said.

minho thanked you, stating once again that he owed you. the amount of times you’d done this for him was countless. but you never seemed to mind. and so, off they went. you were glad felix had integrated into the friend group so well. you supposed that he was just that loveable.

when it finally came time for you to close up shop having not received any other customers for the night, you waltzed into the storage room to grab your things. however, you noticed something strange sitting atop one of the shelves that hadn’t been there that morning.

an envelope. with your name on it. and a tupperware container filled with a single slice of what looked like chocolate cake.

your heart flinched. you were shocked. flustered, flushed. confused… but endeared. you hesitated. shakily, you tore open the cream-colored envelope’s seal, careful not to rip too much. you wanted to preserve its crisp smoothness.

“y/n,” the note said...

“a gift to you,

a chocolatey treat,

a token of thanks

for being so sweet.

~ me”

your heart fluttered. you ran to the kitchen, opening the container and grabbing a freshly-cleaned fork from the metal sink. you dried it off on your apron before excitedly digging into the dessert. it was more of a brownie than a cake, you realized, with melted chocolate chunks stuffed inside. it tasted amazing.

you began wondering who this mystery gifter could’ve been. it couldn’t have been minho… it simply couldn’t have. the two of you were much too close. and he was always more confident than anybody you’d met. if he liked you, you would have already known. besides, things seemed to be going well with him and chaeyoung. no… this had to be someone else. jeongin, perhaps. he did always made such high praises about your cappuccino-crafting abilities. you looked to your left and right, peering around the kitchen for signs of life. but alas, you were all alone in the cafe.

then it hit you.

of course...

felix.

you recalled the first time you met. when you had him jot his number down on the piece of paper. you remembered his handwriting; the way some characters curled on the ends, the rounded shape of his letter e, the squiggly line he used before he signed his name… it was felix. it had to be.

and you were ecstatic.

the next day, you entered the shop to find a full house. it was a saturday morning, after all. you enjoyed the breakfast rush, mainly because you got the chance to show off your coffee-making skills. you made your way to the kitchen, greeting jeongin at the counter on your way in. you said hello to minho and seungmin as well, who were busy stand-mixing and hand-folding various types of batter. they were a great team, especially on mornings like those. though they tended to bicker about ingredients and proportions, the sweet treats they’d concoct always turned out excellently.

finally, felix emerged from the storage area, duster in hand. when he saw you, however, he froze. with his eyes wide and cheeks beginning to flush, he greeted you. “h-hi, y/n… good morning!”

you let out a bit of a giggle. does he know that i know? you asked yourself. granted, the mysterious gift giver signed off as ‘me,’ so you couldn’t say you were positive… but this reaction told you otherwise. “morning!”

he nodded, smiling nervously. he gestured to the storage room. “the shelves in there are all dusted now.”

“great! i think i’ll… um…” you pointed to the room, slipping past him to stash away your belongings and put on your apron.

“yep! you… do that…” he muttered as you walked away.

however, when you walked in, you found something peculiar displayed upon the shelf.

another envelope. and another container.

you turned back toward the door to find felix peeking in. you chuckled. “so it was you!”

he stepped to the side, coming into full view. “how’d you know?” he asked.

“i just… had a feeling.” you grinned.

he paused, a tight-lipped smile spread across his face. “well, open it.”

you placed your coat and bag on one of the shelves below. you then opened up the envelope just like you had the previous night: meticulously, yet enthralled. it read,

“another dessert

for a person so sweet

will you honor me kindly,

and go out with me?

YES / NO

~ me”

once you looked back up at him, felix commented, “you were supposed to circle one…” he then began rambling. “i thought you didn’t come in until later. you don’t have to say anything right now, or at all, and-”

though you thought it adorable, you cut off his nervous prattle, stating, “yes.”

his eyes grew even wider, his strawberry tinted lips forming a circular shape. “you mean…”

“i’ll go out with you, felix,” you confirmed.

his face lit up. and yours did, too.

thus, one date became two, two became four…

by the end of february, you were officially a couple.

you were a perfect match. each of you complimented each other so well, rivaling the bittersweetness of a good cappuccino when paired with a light and fluffy slice of cake. like minho, felix’s baking abilities and knowledge never ceased to amaze you. you explained the ins and outs of coffee brewing while he told you all about how he bakes his tasty treats. he even showed you some of the recipes his mom handed down to him from generations past.

his mom sounded so wonderful… yet, a part of you felt so sorry for her. felix’s dad left when he was young, and she’s always had to fend for herself and her son all on her own. however, when she was let go from her office position the previous year, things began to spiral. she took up two jobs: one at the local grocery store and another waitressing at a restaurant in the next town. she was always so busy. but felix understood. he tried helping out, especially by working at the supermarket with her that fall. nothing seemed to get any better.

that is, until he landed his job at the cafe.

felix constantly thanked you for helping him out. chan paid him a considerable amount more than what he’d received at the supermarket, which helped him and his mother out greatly. anything would. aside from telling how lovely, smart, witty, and gorgeous you were, felix’s mission in life was to remind you how you’d saved it.

one monday, you entered the storage room on your break to find a sight all too familiar. a handwritten note and small sliver of baked loveliness, all wrapped up in a metaphorical bow of allure and intrigue. nevertheless, however, you were still just as giddy as the first time you’d received one of felix’s treats. suddenly, you felt a finger graze along your shoulder, moving your hair to the side as an arm wrapped itself around your waist. two warm, pillowy lips made contact with your cheek, gently pecking the skin. felix.

you let out a giggle. “is this for me?” you asked, facetiously.

“of course,” he muttered beside your ear, his tone low, entrancing, and chill-inducing. he kissed your cheek again, holding you close and swaying you from side to side. “it’s another brownie. try it,” he suggested as his chin settled upon your shoulder.

you did as he said, biting into the small slice of fudgy goodness. to your surprise, chunks of melted caramel oozed out of the dessert, cutting through the rich chocolatiness of the brownie with a tangy edge. you hummed in satisfaction. “a salted caramel brownie,” you noted, swallowing your bite.

he chuckled. “i figured i’d finally try it out, maybe give some to my mom… do you like it?”

you placed the sweet back into its container and turned around in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you smiled. “i love it, lix. thank you.”

he grinned back at you. pulling you closer by the waist, he sealed the space between his lips and yours with a kiss. his lips were always even softer and more captivating than the texture of his confections. sweeter, too.

after his lips left yours, he gazed into your eyes, holding you close. “open the note, love.”

you excitedly spun back around, doing as instructed. opening the crisp white envelope seal and pulling out the folded sheet of paper, you read its contents.

“a caramel kiss

for you, my love.

i can’t give you the world.

but i hope i’m enough.

~ felix”

you paused. you were puzzled. visibly so, you figured, since when you turned around the look on felix’s face shifted.

he took your hand in his, rubbing small circles into the skin with his thumb. he kept his head down as he spoke. “i wish i could do more. i wish i could take you out to nice places, bake you batches of your favorite sweets, get you real gifts…”

a sharp pain struck your heart. “lix…” you murmured. “i don’t need any of those things. and as far as i’m concerned, these are ‘real gifts.’ they come from your heart. that’s as real as it gets.”

“i know, love, but…”

you placed a hand on his cheek, guiding him to look back up at you. “you don’t even have to do this stuff for me. i know that you care.”

he gave you a forced, shy smile. “okay. i’m glad.” he placed his own hand on top of yours, warm fingertips pressing gently against your skin.

“felix! y/n!” chan called from the kitchen. it was saturday night, and the last of the day’s customers were taking their leave. you were standing by the coffee-makers, in the middle of telling felix about the time you’d bested jeongin in a macchiato-making contest during a breakfast rush.

both of you turned toward the kitchen door, concerned. chan poked his head out. “can you come here a minute?” he looked serious. something was wrong.

nevertheless, the two of you obliged. holding hands, you made your way to the kitchen, led by chan to the cooling racks. “what’s up?” you asked.

chan cleared his throat before shoving his hands into his pockets. “i have reason to believe that one of you, or both, has violated protocol.”

you quickly grew confused. felix’s hand tightened around yours. you glanced at him, noticing how his face flushed pale. “uh…” he stammered.

“early this morning, seungmin pointed out that we’re low on cocoa powder. now, that’s odd, especially considering we had three cans of it yesterday. now we only have two.” you both nodded at him, following along. “...so i took a look at the camera footage.”

felix let go of your hand. “c-cameras?” he stuttered. you were even more confused.

“yeah. the cameras,” chan confirmed, looking felix dead in the eye. “i watched the footage from yesterday. and the day before.”

felix gulped. “you… you did….”

“what the hell is going on?” you asked.

chan let out a bit of a sigh. “y/n. were you aware that felix has been taking ingredients from the kitchen?”

your heart dropped.

you glanced at your boyfriend. he glanced back at you. he then bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes down to the floor. you looked back at chan, calmly answering, “no… i had no idea.”

“is that true?” chan asked.

“yes.” you then turned to felix, face ablaze. “it’s true.”

“then in that case, you can go for the night. i’d like to talk to felix. alone.”

after one last unreciprocated look at your boyfriend, you quickly rummaged through the storage room, collected your things, and left. you stood outside of the cafe, waiting for whatever might happen next. your stomach was doing flips. you couldn’t possibly believe what you’d heard.

minutes elapsed. it felt more like hours. all you could think to do was lean up against a lamp post and watch the gloomy clouds shift overhead. the sun was close to being fully set, casting a deep purple tint over the whole street landscape. and it looked as though it was about to rain.

after what felt like an exorbitantly long time, felix emerged from the shop. the door closed behind him as he bolted down the steps and onto the pavement, that familiar chime sending a chill through you. it sounded almost eerie that night. out of place. taunting.

“lix,” you called. you walked behind him, despite his quickening pace. but he wouldn’t stop or slow down. “lix,” you exclaimed again. no answer. finally, you grabbed his arm, realizing his apron was gone, and shouted, “felix! slow down.”

he scoffed, stopping dead in his tracks. “he fired me.”

you stared at him, blankly. once again, you couldn’t believe it.

“i tried to do something nice, and he fired me.”

“do you think it makes me feel any better?” you asked. “you getting yourself fired so you could make me little brownie experiments?” you paused, taking a deep breath. you were outraged. more so with yourself. you should’ve asked how he was finding the time or the resources to be doing what he was doing. you should’ve known. “i thought you needed this job. when were you gonna tell me you were a thief?”

“a thief?!” felix’s eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head. he was surprised at your verbiage. he’d never seen you upset like this. “y/n, i’m not a thief.” you rolled your eyes. his cheeks flushed crimson. a prickling sensation began around his eyes. a stinging, almost. tears. he looked down at his sneakers. tattered white converse. the same ones he wore every day to work. the same ones on which he’d splattered a few droplets of brownie batter during his latest attempt at making you a gift. now, it just looked like a stain of mud. “i didn’t just take cocoa powder. i took eggs… some milk… a couple cups of flour here and there… my mom got demoted at the restaurant. she works the bar now. she thinks i asked for the stuff. so yeah, i did need this job! i do need it. i just fucked up...” under his breath, trying not to give into the tears that prodded at his eyes, he remarked, “‘little brownie experiments’... that’s all they ever were to you? little brownie experiments...”

you realized what you’d said. of course that’s not all they were to you. they were everything to you. but that isn’t what you’d said. “lix… i-”

“you know what, you’re right,” he muttered, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes rapidly blinking to avoid the inevitable. “they probably weren’t even all that good.”

you took a step closer to him. a drop of water fell onto your shoulder from above. “no.. no, that’s not what i-”

but, as quickly as you approached him, he stepped back. he locked eyes with you once again. his eyes were glossy; tainted with the aftereffects of a broken heart. suddenly, a steady stream of drizzling rain began to fall from the night sky above you. felix’s lip quivered. yet, with a furrowing brow, he continued. “you know what, maybe this was all a mistake.” his voice cracked a bit; frayed at the edges. “maybe i should’ve gotten a different job. at a place that would pay me enough to be able to buy my own shit and pay my mom’s bills.” the rain fell harder now, coating his hair and dragging it down over his face. you didn’t even feel it as it completely drenched you as well.

seeing him like this affected you just as much as your words did him. guilt. the panging, crushing weight of guilt laid heavily upon your heart. “felix…” you whimpered, tears of your own beginning to cloud your line of sight. though, you could still see clear enough to watch him shake his head, turning around and beginning his ascent up the avenue. clear as ever. even despite the pitter-patter of evening gloom.

sopping wet, you marched back into the shop. you ripped off your apron, throwing it down upon the counter. you then walked back behind it to start preparing to close up for the night. all you wanted was to go home.

that is, until you spotted an envelope tucked beside the cappuccino maker.

a creamy white envelope, with your name and a heart inscribed on the back. and a tupperware container. a single teardrop descended from the corner of your eye, resembling the droplets of rain that covered your form. you carefully took hold of the envelope. you gently tore it open, making sure not to rip it, just like you’d done the very first and subsequent times.

“another present

for my love;

my dear y/n,

sent from above.

~ felix”

a drop of rain fell from your hair onto the page, dampening his name. the black ink began to run, the letters seeping into each other.

you could no longer control your tears. you took a seat on the floor, back resting against a leg of the table upon which the coffee makers stood. the metal was cold. but you paid it no mind. with your head on your knees, legs bent and arms wrapped around them, you cried. audibly. you couldn’t believe how you’d spoken to him. you should’ve known that he didn’t have the money to bake you these little presents on his own. you should’ve realized from the moment he confirmed it was him. at least, that’s what you thought to yourself as the tears expelled themselves from your system.

he just wanted to make you something special. yes, he broke the rules. yes, he stole from the cafe. and yes, he knew it was wrong. but he just wanted to make you something special. it was the only way he believed he could. and you wish you’d seen that. not just so you could’ve prevented it, but also so you could’ve appreciated it even more. so you could’ve seen that not only was he working overtime to make you something you might enjoy, but that he was risking his job for you and his mother. it wasn’t a perfect gesture - not by a long shot. but he meant well. he always did. and you didn’t even give him the chance to explain.

you loved him.

after a few moments of solitude, you regained your breath. you sniffled, looking down at the note. you then stood back up, taking hold of the container. its contents looked delicious. but you couldn’t consume it. not even if you’d been hungry. so, you dumped it into the trashcan beside the table. and, with a deep, shaky breath, you ripped up the letter and envelope into tiny pieces. it was a bittersweet feeling, letting go. but you had to do it. and so, home you went.

a week passed. things never really changed at the cafe once felix left. weeknights were still as slow as ever. maybe even slower. you missed him.

minho emerged from the kitchen one evening to find you wiping down the cappuccino maker with a coffee-stained rag. it was the third time you’d done it that day. twice more than you were getting paid for. and of course he noticed. “how’re you holding up?” he asked.

you barely glanced up at him, busy rubbing the same spot on the metal machine over and over. this stupid stain just wouldn’t budge. each time you’d gone over it that day, you couldn’t seem to make it go away. it plagued your mind, infiltrating your subconscious when you least expected it until you finally decided to go back to it for the second time, then the third. it was a real mood killer. though your mood hadn’t been very lively when the day began, either. “‘m fine,” you replied through gritted teeth, brows angled inward as your focus remained on the task at hand.

“are you?” he questioned, playfully. he leaned on the counter behind you, crossing his arms and watching you scrub. “you’ve been going at it with that thing for hours now. what’d it ever do to y-”

“i’m fine!” you interjected. you then paused, both in speech and action. suddenly, you were aware of how fast you’d been rubbing the machine. as well as how loud your voice had raised itself. you turned around. “...sorry.”

he gave a pitied smile, crossing his arms. “it’s ok. i’m fine,” he replied, mimicking you. it made you chuckle. he was glad it did. “is, uh… is this a bad time to ask you to lock up? i’ve got a.. uh…”

“a date?” you supposed, unfeeling.

he cleared his throat, glancing between you, the clock above you, and his shoes. “yeah,” he confirmed. “with chaeyoung. would you mind?”

“not at all.”

“you sure?” you nodded. “alright… i owe you one… or ten...” he joked, untying his apron.

“no you don’t,” you murmured, eyes drifting to the side. you almost turned back around, heart set on getting to that stain, until you felt his hand on your arm. you glanced at each other for a moment. he looked sad. sorry. he pitied you. and you hated it. yet, as he took you in his arms, wrapping you into a tight, benevolent hug, you became a little less tense. a little less angry. you hugged him back, burying your face into his shoulder. this was the first time you’d ever engaged in such a gesture with your coworker. sure, you were friends. and sure, you’d talked about some deep stuff on nights like these with nothing better to do. but this was different. meaningful. sweet.

after a moment, minho remarked, “you know i miss him too, right?” he sounded mockingly peeved. “he was your boyfriend but he was my friend.”

you looked up at him, confused. “you’re not still friends?”

he chuckled. “no! he’s avoiding me the same way he’s avoiding you.”

laughing with him, you responded, “shit… i’m sorry, minho.”

“you have nothing to apologize for.” he let go of you, hands remaining on your sides for a moment. “you both messed up. it’s not all your fault.” you nodded to him, a reluctant, close-lipped smile upon your face. he glanced up at the clock again before pulling his apron off. “i’ve gotta go. thanks again for locking up, y/n.” he walked past the counter to the front of the store. “i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he added, pointing at you while striding backwards toward the door.

“see you tomorrow,” you replied, waving to him. “have fun.” you still sounded a bit bitter. you couldn’t help it.

“thanks,” he said. the chimes twinkled as the door closed. it haunted you.

and with that, he was gone. nothing but you, your rag, and that unnerving coffee stain for another half-hour’s time.

you heard the opening and closing of the door behind you once again. with a sigh, not even bothering to turn around, you blurted, “we’re about to lock up for the night.”

no response. odd. maybe they didn’t hear you. you tried again, raising your voice a bit but continuing your attempts to clear up the stain all the while. “i apologize, but we’re closed for the night-”

“one salted caramel brownie, please.”

a familiar voice. a familiar, low-toned, nostalgia-inducing voice. the voice that, at one time, softened for you… close enough to your ear to make your stomach tie itself in knots. the voice that made you giggle, the voice that called you “love”... the voice that cracked when faced with the realization that it was never to be heard by you again. you spun around.

a familiar face, too.

felix.

his eyes gazed into yours. somber, silent.

“y-you...”

“hey.”

tags: @magglesx, @crscendoforsung, @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @skzctnightnight, @serenityswords-main, @childofthecosmos, @changbinniee, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @ncityluvvs, @vera-liscious (send a 🍓 in my ask box to be added for skz !)

264 notes · View notes

writeofmind · 4 years

Text

a ghost?! (pt. 1)

Genre: fluff, slow burn, multi-shot <3

Pairing: College!Rosé x Reader

anon: Hi! If possible could you make a master list of all the fics and scenarios you have posted? 😅 I’d also like to request a blackpink college AU focused on Female Reader x Rosé 🥺 lots of fluff and maybe some slow burn and smut? I’d be happy with any Rosé fluff or blackpink fluff though 🤍🤲🏻 thank you 😊

A/N: hi, j anon! this is part 1/? of your slow burn college!au. :D I will try to make this as slow and fluffy as possible. i don’t have a specific plot that i’m sticking to rn, but i have general ideas that i’m very excited to write. that being said, feel free to send in suggestions as to how you want this story to go! (or you can leave it up to me, and be in for cute surprises >:) )

a ghost?! | caramel lattes | your favorite regular

There were two things that you learned from living your college life. One, you definitely weren’t a morning person, and two, your roommate was a ghost.

Not literally. The thing was just that you had never formally met them; when you moved in, they weren’t home, and when you would wake up in the afternoons, they would already be long gone and out of the house. Your schedules never lined up with each other, so for the past few weeks, you’ve just been barely missing them, not even knowing their name.

You didn’t mind, really. The apartment was kept clean at all times, so it really did feel like only you lived there sometimes. But, you can say: if your roommate was a ghost, then they were the loudest ghost. Ever.

It was just your luck to be paired with them, too; they would be up at the crack of dawn, most times even earlier. You’d often wake up in the mornings to music playing or their (you’re sure you can say her) voice singing along. If you were being honest, the latter was your preferred way of waking up. She did have a wonderful voice, and you wished you could get yourself out of bed to tell her that; but she just woke up way, way too early.

Today was another one of those days. Music was blasting in the background, yet another replay of “Call Me Maybe.”

Ugh, god... you raised your head at the rude awakening, squinting your eyes at the door. Not this song again.

Based on what little you knew about your roommate, you had an image in your head of what she may look like. To put it short, you imagined a sorority girl, in a way. The type that dance and sing along to pop songs, dresses in tank tops and jeans, partying everyday, that sort of thing. You figured that maybe she didn’t party a lot though, considering she was already home and sleeping when you would walk through the front door.

You let your head drop back into your pillow. You were too groggy and beat from work the night before that you blocked out the song, blocked out your roommate’s singing, and fell soundly asleep once again as her music faded out the front door and into the hallways of your apartment. Jeez, that girl needed some headphones.

When you woke up a few hours later, the apartment was silent. There was a sigh of relief from you, and you groaned as you stretched your entire body out. Class started in about an hour and a half, so you decided not to laze around in bed and instead get ready for the day.

When you walked into the kitchen to grab something quick to eat on your way to campus, you smelled something delicious. Sniffing the air, you smelled... something spicy?

Sure enough, when you walked inside, there was a pan of tteokbokki sitting right on the stove. The aroma of the spiciness itself made your mouth water the closer you got to it- then, you saw a note next to it, sitting right under a bottle of water.

Good morning, roomie! I heard you come home late last night, (not that I was trying to be a stalker, but I couldn’t sleep so I was still up when you got back. Crazy, right?) Anyway, I figured you didn’t eat because I didn’t hear you in the kitchen, so I made extra tteokbokki this morning for you to take with you. I made it a little too spicy, so make sure you grab the water too!!

- PC

Your eyebrows raised higher the further down you read the note. She made you breakfast? And packed you a water?

How sweet of her, you smiled. You wasted no time in scooping a whole bunch of the delicious rice cakes onto a plate and devouring every single piece. (She was right, though, it was super spicy.)

That was really sweet of her. I should do something for her, too. I feel bad that I haven’t thought to even leave a note. And PC, huh? I wonder what that could stand for. I should make a mental note to ask.

After eating and cleaning everything up, you realized that you wasted a little too much time in your own head and was running a bit behind schedule. You grabbed the water bottle quickly and ran as fast as you could out the door, into the elevator, and out the main lobby of your apartment. You didn’t even notice the blonde haired girl you almost ran into along the way.

When you were finished with your school day, you always dreaded having to go to work afterwards. Not that it was a terrible job, you were just a barista at a café near campus, after all- but you would be tired and drained after pulling afternoon to closing shifts.

So there you stood, leaning against the counter top at your job as you sipped away at a small cup of espresso. You and your coworkers chatted absentmindedly. It wasn’t too busy tonight, except for a few straggling students that stayed to study. Your manager had even offered to let you go home early, but you decided you needed the money- you were practically getting paid to stand around, anyway.

The bell on the door jingled after what seemed like hours (and maybe it was). Your coworkers, all clowns, hid away from the incoming group of customers and shuffled behind the counters, leaving you to take care of them all. You glared at them and groaned internally, but that was the rules of a college student barista. If you’re not fast enough to hide, you face the consequences.

“Hey, guys,” you put on your smile as you approached the register, “what can I get for you tonight?”

When the girls got closer, you were glad that your hat was a bit too big for your head. It covered the burning read at the top of your ears at the sight of how pretty they were— all four of them, to be exact.

One of the shorter ones smiled back at you. “Hiii,” she greeted, “do you guys know what you want?”

The redhead of the group spoke up first. “Yes, can I just have a tea, please?” She turned to the other girls, “I noticed that my voice has been kind of raspy from rehearsal. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

You minded your own business as you punched in the order. “Of course, and for you?” You looked at the tall brunette, who was squinting at the menu board. You had to hide a laugh as you slid a smaller menu to her. “Here you go, our menu is printed kind of small.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you,” she laughed and took the menu in her hands. The shorter one that spoke earlier laughed too and simply pushed the brunette’s hands down.

“Can we just get two large white mochas, please?”

You smiled as you punched in that order too. “Of course.” You now turned to the final girl of the group, who stood silently, staring back and forth at the pastries in the case and the menu board. “For you, miss?”

When she looked up at you, you froze.

Wow, she was cute.

She smiled at you so sweetly, brushing her blonde hair behind her ear. “Um, yes please, can I get all of the vanilla scones that are in here? Oh, and a caramel latte, please.”

Just from eyeballing the case, there were at least 10, if not a couple more scones in there. You glanced at her with a humorous smile and nodded. “Yeah, no problem.”

As you punched in the order, you made sure that you only rang her up for four scones. It was almost near closing time anyway (you told yourself that, but really you still had a couple hours left), and you didn’t want to have to waste any pastries.

“Can I have your guys’ names for your drinks?” You popped the tip off of your sharpie.

The redhead, again, spoke first. “Jisoo.”

Then went the brunette. “Lisa,” she then pointed to the shorter one, “Jennie.”

Lastly, you turned to the blonde. Again, she smiled, and nodded when she spoke. “Rosé.”

Such a pretty name, you thought to yourself. You made it a point to draw a little flower next to her name, just for funsies. You let them know that their drinks would be ready soon, and you gathered all the scones in the case for the girl to have.

The girls didn’t notice the price difference at first when they paid. After calling out their names for their orders, it wasn’t until they sat down at their table with their drinks and snacks that they realized something was off.

It was Rosé who came back up to the counter as you were wiping it down.

“Um, hi,” she spoke softly as if not to surprise you, “I’m sorry, but I think there may have been a mistake?”

You looked up at her from the counter with raised eyebrows. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was your drink wrong?”

“No, not at all! It’s great,” she shook her head and showed her bag of scones, “but, um, I think you mischarged me for these.”

Ah, so she did notice. “No miss, that’s okay,” you laughed at her innocence and honesty. Her face even looked worried just from you saying that. “We’re going to be closing in a couple hours anyway, and to be honest, the scones can be a bit overpriced when you buy a lot. Don’t worry about it.”

Her eyebrows were furrowed in the cutest way possible. “But— are you sure? You won’t get in trouble?”

“I’m sure, I’m sure. It’s fine, really miss.”

“Aww... well, thank you—” she beamed and squinted at your name tag, “Joy.”

Aw, shit. You internally slapped yourself in the face, I put on the wrong apron.

Of all days to be talking to a cute girl, you weren’t even wearing the right apron with the right name tag. You really didn’t want to have to explain yourself and essentially embarrass both you and the girl right now, and you were quite frankly a bit shy already from talking to her for as long as you have. So you just smiled back. “It’s no problem, Rosé.”

With a giggle, the girl turned back around and hopped over to her table, where you could hear her recounting your conversation. You chuckled.

As your shift went on, the students inside the café began to disperse and pack up their bags to head home. One of the last students to leave was the group of girls you served earlier, and they even made sure to call out “bye, Joy!” as they left. Your coworkers looked at you funny but ended up laughing at your awkwardness once they realized your mistake.

“Oh, come on, y/n!” One of your best coworkers, Seulgi, laughed, “Now you’re gonna be known as Joy to them! Joy is not going to be happy.”

“Look, man, I didn’t wanna correct her, alright??” You sighed and palmed your forehead, “I got nervous!”

“Ah, well,” your other coworker Yeri shrugged, “at least you may not see her again. So you don’t have to be too embarrassed.”

Your shoulders dropped at the sound of that. You may not see her again? Boo.

Your closing shift went by smoothly and before you knew it, you were walking through the threshold of your already dark apartment. You saw that your roommate’s door was closed and her light off, but her shoes were on the shoe rack, so you knew she was already sleeping.

You almost went straight to your room to knock out before remembering what your roommate did for you this morning. You didn’t want to just leave her hanging and make yourself seem ungrateful, so you grabbed a post-it note and a pen.

Hi there, roomie, you began, thank you for the tteokbokki this morning! It was delicious, actually, and I only needed a few gulps of water between each bite. (lol, i’m just teasing, it really was good. i love spicy food.) i’m not sure if you like flavorings in your coffee, let alone if you like coffee or not, but here’s some for you for the morning, since you’re usually up earlier than me. you can use any of my coffee cups, i have way too many.

- y/n

After setting up the coffee machine to brew in the early morning, you stuck the note on top and dragged yourself into your room to get ready for bed.

The next morning, you woke up to silence. No music, no singing, nothing. And it wasn’t early in the morning- it was the usual time you yourself would get up and out of bed.

Huh? you wondered, This feels... unnatural.

You got yourself out of bed and ready for your day as you normally would. You walked into the kitchen for your usual breakfast of coffee and a single granola bar, when you saw yet another note waiting for you on the kitchen table.

it’s no problem at all! i almost thought you hated the tteokbokki when i didn’t see any feedback when i got home. TT TT it’s so funny that we haven’t even met yet. btw, i’m sorry i’m loud in the mornings, i never realized how late you got home every night. i’ll let you sleep in more. :) and you’re so sweet, thank you for letting me use one of your cups, and thank you for the coffee this morning :)

p.s, just so you know a fact about me too, i love caramel in my coffees.

- PC

#rosé #blackpink scenarios #blackpink #gg scenarios #kpop scenarios #rosé x reader #girl group scenarios #park rosé #park roseanne #park chaeyoung #rosé fluff #rosé fic

296 notes · View notes

bauslut · 3 years

Text

ii. what makes a man?

pairing: aaron hotchner x rowan rivers

word count: 3.840k

warnings: canon typical violence -- blood, gore, mentions of murder, discussion of murder, discussion of weapons, cursing, trauma, dealing with trauma, death of children

prev. | next

“here you are,” jj bore a kind smile as she slid a manila folder towards the brunette, “here’s your official welcome to the bau. i’m sorry it wasn’t on more.. positive terms.”

“oh,.it’s quite all right,” rowan’s eyes widened, “this is what we’re here--”

“she’s sitting in my spot,” rossi chuckled, “but i don’t mind.”

“are you sure?” rowan stammered, a rosy blush painting her cheeks, “i-i can get up and move--”

“don’t sweat it,” rossi nodded curtly, “there are plenty of open seats.”

“hey baby girl,” a wide, jovial, grin painted morgan’s lips as a woman entered the room, her blonde locks intricately woven into an up-do, “don’t you look delicious today?”

“as always,” the woman scrunched her nose, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, “how are you this morning baby-cakes?”

“hey there!” a chirp startled rowan, sounding from her left, “i’m emily, but around here, i’m referred to as prentiss.”

she was met with kind eyes, a warm mocha hue. they were bright, glimmering as they followed every minute movement as rowan studied her features. the woman was gorgeous without a doubt, with full lips and an oblong face. her hair was luscious, parted down the middle, styled into bouncy curls.

“hi,” rowan breathed, sticking out a hand, “i’m rowan riv--”

“i am afraid we do not have time for introductions,” a stern voice echoed through the space, “we are fbi agents, not kindergartners. we can have icebreakers or whatever it is you’re doing on the jet.”

rowan choked back a sharp retort as hotch strode towards a whiteboard, his spine straightened, chest puffed out slightly. sliding into her seat, her hands settled on the armrests, a puff of air exhaling from her lips. she was sandwiched between two seasoned agents, as morgan was munching on a bag of cookies on her left, prentiss sifting through papers to her right.

maybe if she just shut her mouth, she would blend in and he wouldn’t pay any sort of attention to her. which, wasn’t such a bad idea in the moment. the less he focused on her and berated her, the better.

“cookie?” morgan rattled the bag.

“not right now. thank you though,” rowan whispered, lips curving into a small smile.

“i’m about to begin discussing the case,” hotch shot rowan a glare, words barbed with venom, “so listen up.”

he pinned several images on the board, bile rising in rowan’s throat as her focus transitioned to the pictures. prentiss sucked in a shaky breath, while morgan muttered a strand of incoherent sentences.

the images progressively became more grotesque as they spanned across the board. mangled, beaten, and bloodied corpses were presented, the bile approaching the back of her mouth as she realized the age range.

the bodies were children, their jugulars slashed, lacerations and bruises littering their tiny frames.

“there has been a surge of murders in the rural farm town of homer, illinois. in the past week, there have been a total of five. all of the victims were children, with no specific physical attributes,” hotch cleared his throat, “however, all of them bear one aspect in common.”

“they’re all boys,” reid murmured, “from the images it appears as if they’re about ages eleven or twelve.”

“then they are pre-pubescent boys,” rowan’s voice was clear, pairs of eyes falling on her as she spoke, “i’ve seen something like this before, when i was working in columbus. we had a ring of traffickers who preferred this age range.”

“and?” morgan arched a brow, “why pre-pubescent boys?”

“hotch,” rowan nearly trembled as the supervisor’s cold gaze shifted on her, “i-if i may ask, were there any signs of assault or rape?”

“the severity of sexual assault varied on each victim.”

“you said that they have no physical attributes in common but looking at these photos,” reid shook his head slightly, “the brunettes are the only ones who have lacerations covering their entire bodies. the blondes, the only sign of violence demonstrated is the murder itself, the incision along the jugular.”

“could it be that our unsub has something against brunettes?” morgan inquired.

“potentially,” rowan blinked, scanning over the text, “it also says here in the autospies that the only boys who were sexually assaulted were the brunettes. i may be going on a whim here, but i think our unsub is lashing out on the brunettes for a reason. it could be power, dominance, you name it. perhaps the hair color is a stressor, or was the initial stressor. he might be reliving a traumatic event from his childhood.”

rossi whistled, “look at you, rivers. already building a profile and we’ve only met for five minutes.”

“sadly i’ve seen a lot of this before,” rowan let out a sigh, rustling through papers, “it also says here that the bodies were all found at homer lake forest preserve. i have a strong premonition that our unsub is male.”

“and what makes you say that?” hotch countered.

“by the way the bodies were handled,” rowan shrugged, “they were beaten, mutilated, and dragged through the woods. the amount of physical strength to do that is just an inherent trait males have."

“how were the bodies discovered?” jj bit her lip, a trace of fear glimmering in her icy blue depths.

“they were found by a new fisherman every morning around dawn, in the same location. they were located about half a mile from the entrance of the preserve,” hotch tossed the file onto the table, “our unsub is bold.”

“he wanted the bodies to be found,” rossi added, “he’s arrogant.”

“or he’s sloppy,” rowan remarked, “he’s devolving. he could be killing just on that need burning within him, with no remorse or any sort of emotion within him at all--”

“we need to get to homer as soon as possible,” hotch interrupted, glancing at his phone, “it’s ten o’clock in the morning. it’s only a matter of time before another body is found.”

“where’s the closest airport?” jj folded her arms across her chest.

“willard airport in champaign-urbana,” reid piped up, “other than that, the other closest one is in bloomington-normal.”

“and how do you know that?” morgan’s eyes widened.

“champaign-urbana is the home of the university of illinois,” reid swallowed thickly, “i’ve been there a few times. it’s an exceptional school for engineering, truly one of the greatest in the country--”

“all right, all right,” morgan stuck out a hand, “you answered my question.”

“wheels up in thirty,” hotch announced, plucking the file off the shiny wood.

rowan followed the others in suit, filing out of the space. trailing reid, she was the second last to leave the room, hotch right behind her, deep, smooth, voice filling her ears.

“i need to speak with you agent rivers.”

“yes?” she swiveled on her heel, facing the supervisor, folding her arms across her chest.

“i hope you’re aware that i do not tolerate any sort of childlike behavior. we’re not teenagers reuniting on the first day of class. i did not appreciate the interruptions in my conference room. you can socialize on your own time.”

“you’ve never once interrupted anything in your entire life? wow, you really must be mr. perfect. i mean look at you, all put together. i doubt you’ve even done anything wrong in your life you’re so per--”

“you realize you’re speaking to your boss with this tone, right?”

“i don’t fucking care,” tears brimmed rowan’s eyes, “this is my first day and it’s even worse than i could have ever imagined.”

“excuse me?”

“you’ve really made sure i’ve had a warm welcome to the bau, mr. perfect,” rowan scoffed, rolling her eyes, “it’s been an amazing first day, i’ll tell you that.”

for just a moment, hotch’s tough exterior cracked, a flicker of sympathy flashing in his gaze, “i’m sorry.”

“‘i’m sorry’?”

hotch paused, inhaling a deep breath, “i was going to write you up. however, i may have been a little too harsh on you. after all, this is your first day. strauss put in a good word for you, and i want to see your skill set out in the field. come on, we’re going to be left behind.”

******

“gotta love the midwest,” morgan placed his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling.

“you love it?” reid’s lips curled in disgust, “it smells like manure.”

“it smells like home,” rowan giggled, shouldering her way through the men, “c’mon, let’s go.”

“well she’s eager,” rossi chuckled, turning to hotch, “where are we setting up?”

“there’s the local p.d. in homer,” hotch slung his bag over his shoulder, “the station is only about four miles from the forest preserve.”

“i was doing some reading on the village of homer,” reid stated, “there’s only about one thousand people who live there. it’s such a tiny place, and as hotch mentioned, it’s only four miles from the preserve, surely the unsub lives there.”

“or he lives close to the lake,” rowan pointed out, “there are so many homes out there surrounding the lake in the countryside. with these rural communities, your neighbors could be a mile down the road, or miles away. it gives him the perfect opportunity to make frequent trips to the lake without being noticed.”

“you make a good point rivers,” hotch remarked, “we’ll have to keep that in mind when we investigate the lake and the surrounding woods.”

“this murder isn’t going to solve itself,” rossi cleared his throat, nodding his head towards the cluster of suvs, “we need to get to the police department and we’re losing time.”

stepping into the vehicle, rowan slid into the back seats, figuring that hotch would take the wheel, while rossi would sit shotgun. yet, curiosity buzzed in her mind as rossi took the wheel, while reid settled into the passenger seat.

“you’ve got to be shitting me,” she muttered as hotch thrust open the door, “rossi, are you usually the one who drives?”

“typically, no,” in the rearview mirror, rowan snorted when she noticed the shit-eating grin plastered on the agent’s face, “but i figured that you and hotch would love to get to know one another on the way there.”

“can i pick the station?” reid bounced in the seat, hands flying to the knobs and levers.

“pick something good, find an oldies station or something. maybe they’ll play back in black,” within seconds, the suburban was in motion, rossi revving the engine, “i plan on racing morgan, jj, and prentiss to the station. whoever loses has to buy dinner.”

“this is ridiculous,” hotch rolled his eyes, the vibration of his phone piquing rowan’s curiosity.

“by the way,” reid turned in his seat, facing hotch, “who’s been calling you so frequently today?”

“haley,” rowan tilted her head as the name spat from hotch’s mouth, “it’s not important.”

haley. from the sound of it, she was hotch’s significant other, girlfriend, fiancee, even a spouse, maybe. rowan’s eyes drifted downwards to his lap, where his hands rested on his knees. in the light, a golden band gleamed on his left ring finger.

so, hotch was married. he had a wife.

but there was something in his tone that was unsettling. were they fighting? having the typical lover’s quarrel? maybe that’s why hotch was so distant and cruel, he was constantly dealing with his marriage.

“so tell us a little about you, rowan,” rossi was far ahead of the other suburban, shades resting on the bridge of his nose, “i never got an icebreaker.”

rowan scoffed, fidgeting in the leather seat, “there’s not anything too riveting, i can spare you guys the details.”

in the corner of her eye, rowan felt his eyes pierce through her, digging deeps within the confines of her psyche. he was profiling her, desperate to get some sort of read. perhaps he was well aware of how uncomfortable she was by rossi’s query. the way her palms were slick against her pants, sweat prints clinging to the fabric. the way her cheeks were tainted pink, her jaw tightened, throat dry.

“didn’t you go to ohio state for undergrad?” reid licked his thumb, scouring through some novel or book.

“yeah,” she nodded, “i’m from a tiny town in ohio, called tiffin. i went to ohio state for an undergrad in psychology, along with a few minors in criminal justice, linguistics, spanish, so on. i stayed there for grad school since i loved the city, and the university. from there, the bureau picked me up from the academy, and i was thrown into the infamous case.”

“the child sex-trafficking bust,” hotch murmured, “i remember glancing over that in your file.”

“how long did that case go on?” rossi turned the radio dial, lowering the volume.

“longer than it should’ve been,” rowan brought a hand to her temple, a dull pain seeping into her skull, “hey, does anyone have ibuprofen?”

hotch’s eyes softened, concern painting his features, “i think i have some in my briefcase. hang on.”

rowan brought a bottle of water to her lips, sipping as hotch placed a couple of pills in her open palm. as he set them in her hand, skin grazed skin, her heart skipping a beat.

for someone as rough and callused as hotch, his hands were so utterly soft.

“thank you,” she whispered, “i appreciate it.”

“of course,” he murmured, “do you usually get frequent headaches?”

“yeah,” rowan admitted, a new wave of blush spreading, “i’m just prone to them i guess.”

“the humidity is also high today,” reid remarked, “and from the way the wind just picked up, along with the darkness of the clouds, i think it’s going to storm. your headache could be from the low pressure.”

“fantastic,” rowan threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut, “you know reid, that’s kinda a myth.”

“actually research has been inconclusive.”

“how many did you take?” hotch nudged rowan, inflections of concern within his inquisition.

“six.”

“jesus christ,” rossi’s lips pursed, “are you trying to kill your liver?”

“we’ll see about that,” a giggle bubbled up in rowan’s throat.

as the suburban sailed down the interstate, her lashes fluttered, sleep threatening to pull her into its clutches. she blinked, rubbing soothing circles onto her temple, lips falling to a frown as a dull pain seeped into her forehead.

biting her lip, she fought back tears, inhaling a shaky breath. this was no place to show any weakness.

not with him around.

*****

“good afternoon, chief sellers. i’m supervisory special agent hotchner with the fbi,” hotch stated, his voice ringing with authority as he shook an officer’s hand, “and these are my colleagues.”

“thank god you’re here,” the officer’s voice was hoarse, wavering as he spoke, “it’s been a living nightmare these past few days.”

“i can only imagine,” jj murmured under her breath, “there’s someone out there killing little boys.”

“he looks so shaken up,” prentiss exhaled, folding her arms across her chest.

“we had most of the state p.d. flock out here once the second body was discovered,” chief sellers cleared his throat, his focus directed on hotch, “we’re all doing the best we can, but of course, as other duties call, we tend to be short-handed at times.”

“we’re going to do everything in our power to help,” rossi’s words were warm, brimmed with sincerity, “we’ll catch this guy, i promise.”

“and we’ll help you all in every way we can,” chief sellers nodded curtly, “anything you folks need, let us know.”

“should we start by heading out to the crime scene?” hotch inquired, “it might also be best to split some of us up.”

“of course,” chief sellers strode over to a pair of state officers, “these men will escort you to the scene. what else do you need?”

hotch’s eyes flickered over to his team, “i want morgan, reid, and rossi to go investigate the scene. prentiss and jj, would you speak with some of the locals? we need to gather as much information as possible in order to rule out anyone or gain essential details about our unsub.”

“what about me?” rowan coughed.

“you’re staying with me here at the station,” he commanded, “and you’re going to answer every phone call we get from garcia.”

“good luck newbie,” rowan rolled her eyes as morgan teased her, his breath hot against her ear.

“you might want to listen to morgan,” rossi shot her a wink, “you’re going to need it.”

“thanks,” the reply was a deadpan, the agent’s shoulders slumping as hotch approached her, “putting me on a short leash, are we?”

“you’re the one who understands the profile of our unsub the best,” he retorted, “and before you fire back with another verbal assault, think before you speak. this is your big girl job now. act like it.”

“don’t you think it’s interesting that the unsub stopped killing?” hotch murmured a few words of gratitude to an officer who handed him a coffee, cocking his head as he took a sip.

“do you think that there’s a reason behind that?”

“possibly,” rowan shrugged, denying the same styrofoam cup, “hey, where’s the closest gas station?”

“about half a mile away,” the officer replied coolly, “would you like a ride? a few of the guys and i are going to pick up pizzas for lunch.”

“i’m okay,” she paused, running a hand through her hair, “thank you, though.’

“you don’t like hot coffee?”

“i prefer iced,” the agent muttered, surveying the empty desks, “i assume they cleared some space for us?”

“indeed,” hotch huffed, “if your phone rings, assume it’s garcia.”

“i feel like i’m at columbus p.d. all over again,” the brunette slid into the seat, rolling a few inches as she plucked the file out of her briefcase.

“well this is nowhere near that,” hotch rolled his eyes, leaning against the wooden surface.

“well it sure feels like it,” his throat tightened as her eyes drifted upwards, locking with his, “it sure fucking feels like it. now, if you don’t mind, i’m going to look over the file.”

“would you like some company, agent rivers?”

“i’m sure you have ‘unit chief’ matters to tend to,” the words were barbed, hot and venomous as she spat them out, “hovering around your new recruit like she’s some child is quite ridiculous don’t you think?”

“i should have you turn in your badge right now.”

“you seem like you’re all bark and no bite. you scolded me only only hours ago about the conference room, threatening to write me up. that tough exterior of yours is only an act. or at least, i think it is. you’re not going to write me up until you have a valid reason to. also, like you claimed earlier, ‘strauss put in a good word for me.’ i know you won’t terminate me. plus, you just went through all of that paperwork to get me here. do you really want to go through all of that again?”

“you piss me off.”

“good,” she puckered her lips, “maybe you should chat about that with strauss hmm? she’d probably just tell you to suck it up and that i’m here to stay.”

hotch’s jaw clenched, prepared to retaliate, yet the vibration in his pocket distracted him momentarily, the shrill ringtone piercing through the air, “yes?”

biting her tongue, rowan glanced back at the file, bringing her hand to her cheek. part of her was wailing, screaming and kicking, fighting the urge to study those horrid images. but the other part was driven, adrenaline coursing through her veins, pumping into her body.

even the slightest detail that she hadn’t noticed initially would be immensely helpful to building the profile, piecing together who this deranged individual was. flipping through the photos, rowan’s eyes narrowed.

although the team held a short briefing before departing from headquarters, there was one minor aspect about the way the bodies were laying in the shrubbery. the boys were all on their backs, dried blood coating sliced flesh. not a single article of clothing framed their bodies, just the thin layer of briefs or boxers.

her heart lurched as one arm was pressed tightly against their sides, while the other was raised. right hands pointed upwards, three fingers: the index, middle, and ring. yet, the pinky connected with the thumb, almost as if the children were purposely holding up three fingers.

“garcia called with an update,” his voice floated into her ears, “with the bits and pieces fed to her from jj and prentiss, we still have a lot of ground to cover. are you up for a drive?”

“wait,” rowan held up a hand, “hotch, were you ever a member of the boy scouts?”

his brow furrowed, confusion settling across his features, “what?”

“just look,” she huffed, gesturing to the images, “look at the way the unsub left their bodies. it’s a clear message, almost like how he dumped the bodies in clear sight. his arrogance blinded him, goading him to taunt us. but little did he know i would see right through his bluff. i think he stopped the killing spree because he knew we’d be looking for him. it’s like he wants us to find him.”

leaning over, hotch’s chest hovered above her shoulder blade, a hand settling on the desk. the ghost of his badge hung over her cheek, a speck of white in her peripheral vision. a hum rose in his throat, “you’re onto something here. let me call garcia.”

“did i make a break in the case?”

“perhaps, but don’t let that get to your head,” the supervisor brought his phone to his ear, “hey, garcia, i need you to run something for me. how many boy scout troops are in champaign county?”

*****

“you up for some drinks tonight?” prentiss giggled, wrapping her jacket around her shoulders, “it’s all on me, especially since we should be celebrating your first case with the bau!”

“i’m fine,but thank you,” rowan beamed, “i still have a forty minute drive ahead of me. i shouldn’t stay out too late.”

“oh come on,” jj groaned, “we won’t be out for long. just a couple rounds.”

“pleaseeee?” garcia practically pranced over to rowan, jutting her bottom lip out, “we don’t know a single thing about you. hotch had you under his watch all day.”

“okay,” she exhaled, “a few drinks, and then i need to get to my apartment. i’ve barely finished unpacking so i’ll have to rummage for my towels and pajamas when i get back.”

“you have an apartment?” prentiss queried, “do you have a roommate or do you live alone? did you bring a boyfriend with you, by chance?”

rowan blinked, “uh, no. i live alone.”

“good thing you’re a fbi agent huh?” garcia winked, “c’mon, we know the perfect bar.”

“maybe we’ll get you loosened up and you can spill some secrets,” jj chuckled, the sound airy and light.

“sometimes,” rowan felt the corner of her lips tug into a wide grin, “sometimes i truly wonder what i’m getting myself into working with all these other profilers.”

*****

{feel free to ask for a tag or let me know what you think! :))}

tagging: @tempus-ut-luceant @daffodin @kleinbluu @inlovewithaaronhotchner @spencerreidsbitch @art-and-thoughts @criminallminds @ethade3

#hotch #hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #cm

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ellgrimm · 3 years

Text

Sweets (OHSHC bakery AU)

He lightly dusted the rectangle of dough with fine, white flour and ran it through the sheeter one last time. Mori peeled the slightly bouncy dough off the machine bed and placed it on a tray lined with a piece of plastic film. Wrapping the film snuggly around the croissant dough, he smoothed out the indents impressed by his fingertips. He scooped the tray off the maple wood table and spun around gracefully, with habitual movement, to slip it into the fridge along with the other identical trays of dough.

With that done, he slid out of the floury work apron and traded it for a fresh one he kept tidy for sales at the front register. He washed his hands and checked for any errant streaks of flour on his face. Satisfied, Mori walked out from the fairly austere kitchen and into the world of rich woods and shining glass cases that was the customer-service side of the French patisserie shop and cafe.

Haruhi was in the middle of preparing a cup of drip coffee for a patron. Another customer just arrived at the pastry counter and stood politely, waiting to place his order. “Why don’t you see to our guest, Mori?” she asked cheerfully, as she held a gooseneck kettle and slowly circled hot water over the fresh coffee grounds, keeping an eye on the weight of water being poured. A rich, gold-black coffee dripped out the bottom of the cone filter into a ribbed glass pitcher.

Mori turned to face the pastry case and reflexively picked up a set of tongs. He performed a test click: *click*. Then he looked out over the top of the case and said in a deep and calm voice a phrase he had said at least 500 times before: “Good afternoon, what would you like today?”

But there wasn’t anyone there?

He scanned left and right.

Then he directed his gaze down and his heart skipped. A pair of enormous, caramel eyes were looking up at him from underneath a glorious mop of flaxen hair. The boy spoke, blushing a bit, in a voice that rang out clear and light, “Good afternoon! I would like one tartelettes aux fraises, please.” His French was pretty good, or at least it sounded good, Mori thought. “For here,” the boy added.

“Of course,” Mori replied, as he carefully lifted the mini tart off the ceramic tray. A glazed strawberry, sliced and fanned out over piped pastry cream, sat like a glistening red jewel. He placed it on a round plate and brought it over to the register counter. “Anything else today?” Mori asked.

“Can I… get a caffe mocha?” the charming and petite lad said reluctantly after reading through the coffee menu.

Mori caught the hesitation. “Yes, sir. How many shots of espresso?” he asked attentively.

The caramel eyes wibbled a little, damply, and he burst out suddenly “um? No shots? Please?”

Mori was relieved. Now he understood what the problem was: the menu did not list “hot chocolate.” He made a mental note that he should suggest a menu update to the manager. Making cute boys cry was already not his preference; and this boy in particular deserved the world, he immediately and definitively decided.

Mori nodded and completed the cash part of the transaction. “I will bring your strawberry mini tart and no-shots ‘caffe mocha’ to you in a minute, sir. There is a table with a nice view by that window, if you like.” He gestured to a small, round table that offered a glimpse across the street of a park with a duck pond. A coveted sight in urban Tokyo.

The boy smiled and practically floated over to the promised seat. He caught sight of a mama with her raft of ducklings zooming past and gasped with delight. Mori had to work incredibly hard to suppress a grin. It was everything he had hoped for.

Haruhi noticed. She noticed a lot of things, to be clear. Here, she was shocked and intrigued that Mori had said the longest continuous string of words than she had heard at any point over the past two years since he had started working here.

To be honest, she had been surprised when Kyoya had hired him on, considering how much talking is often involved in customer service. Kyoya, in an uncommonly forthcoming reveal into the inner workings of his mind, succinctly told Haruhi once that “diversity is a strength.”And that meant, in stark contrast to longtime coworker Tamaki’s effervescent and somewhat scattered personality, a staunchly grounded giant who is almost religious in keeping up on the daily labors of a bakery is certainly an asset.

Haruhi grabbed a silver dessert spoon and placed it and a napkin on the wooden serving tray, next to the strawberry mini tart. She winked at Mori as he finished making what was honestly a hot chocolate. He grunted softly, as if to say “hush, you.”

---

He came in every day that week. And every day he tried a different sweet pastry. As far as Mori could tell, he loved them all equally.

And Kyoya saw no objection to adding Hot Chocolate to the official cafe menu. “It’s not seasonally appropriate, but there has been an anti-caffiene health trend picking up lately,” he said decisively.

On the last day of his work week, Mori once again watched the boy leave the shop for the day. This time, the boy, busy looking at his phone, bumped into a trio of well-built, strong young men. He started to apologize for running into them, and Mori panicked a little, instinctively leaping over the counter and dashing past the other customers sitting at their tables. A blur of hyperactivity in an otherwise amazingly calm and inviting space.

And then Mori stopped, his heart beating hard.

“Haninozuka-sensei! We are so very sorry for getting in your way!” the trio barked, stiffly and respectfully bowing. Honey smiled kindly and waved them off.

“Oh, no, it was my fault entirely! I must have been busy with my own thoughts,” Haninozuka offered brightly. And after a quick exchange of pleasantries, he turned and walked up the street.

The trio lingered and talked amongst themselves. Mori tried not to listen, sort of. But he desperately needed to know more about this Haninozuka person. Their… sensei?

“Sensei was so...” Said the first one.

“I know! He’s been such a goddamn hardass at the dojo lately. I wasn’t expecting it.” The second offered.

“I was ready for him to beat us up right here on the sidewalk.” The third expressed, now relieved.

Mori was dumbfounded. This bubbly slip of a lad who giggled at baby ducks and was afraid to ask for a coffee without coffee... was apparently also a brutal martial arts teacher? He couldn’t possibly... and the name was familiar, but he couldn’t finish the thought.

Mori swam in his thoughts for a minute, completely adrift in the dissonance, before Tamaki finally caught his attention and brought him back to earth. “Mori-senpai!” he practically sang, “you left this winsome young lady before giving back her change~”

Mori’s eyes flashed and he looked back, embarrassed. “Very sorry, miss.”

“Um, well, I don’t mind!” she chirped. And she honestly hadn’t minded. He had been athletic and lithe --like an action hero-- when he vaulted himself over the counter, and it had made her think spicy thoughts she would never say aloud. Not something she had expected to experience during her trip to the nicest pastry shop in the ward, but it was a surprise she would treasure for years.

---

It was an agonizing week before Haninozuka came back into the patisserie.

Mori spent every shift that week dutifully doing his work, to the best of his ability. But his ability had degraded because a solid half of his brain was fixated on this mystery. Cute? Cruel? Sweets? Sensei? It consumed him, and he was beginning to hate himself for it. It had been much easier to do this job before he had someone he so looked forward to being around.

Then Mori caught himself. Sure, the work was easier before, when he had been habitually focused entirely on the tasks. Separating eggs. Measuring flour. Shaping butter into thick slabs. Pouring coffee and picking croissants out of the case. Even washing dishes. It had become a somewhat mindless rhythm.

But Haninozuka had made him want to come to work. It made the work feel more purposeful, somehow. It was like Mori had a specific audience in mind when he wiped tables. An audience he wanted to feel safe and comfortable and happy in his domain.

But what if Haninozuka was a bad person? Those three guys had been so sure that this was an unusual side to him. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for their comments to color his idea of this boy. But he also was afraid it would be foolish to not heed their words. Surely they knew their sensei better than Mori could possibly have gotten to in a handful of hours over a few days?

But eventually, he did come back.

This time, he was escorted by the trio from before, as well as a new face. The fourth person, who had similar facial features to Haninozuka, but was a bit taller than him, also had a permanent scowl topped with a grown out bowl cut and glasses, and he was nervously eyeing Haninozuka, watching to see what he would order.

Mori was ready to push the register icon for in the hot chocolate part of the order, and jumped ahead to asking “What pastry would you like today, sir?”

Haninozuka, looking resolute, jaw clenched and without the usual gleam in his warm eyes, stated plainly “I’ll take a plain croissant and black coffee today. Thank you.” The bowl cut kid visibly relaxed a little.

Mori felt the pain in his unusually flat voice, but only nodded. “Excellent choice. Is this together or separate?”

Once he finished taking the group order, they paid and left to go sit down at a pair of tables outside on the sidewalk, well away from the previously frequented pond-viewing seat.

Mori turned to the task at hand. He brought out a set of wooden half-trays, one for each order, and selected pastries for each guest while Haruhi got to work on the drinks. Mori used the tongs to pick up the plain croissant and paused. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt so wrong.

He put it back and selected a hazelnut and chocolate ganache filled croissant instead. It looked nearly identical on the outside, especially if you weren’t paying close attention. Only a small seam with chocolate peeking through could be noticed, and even then, that was on the bottom side of the pastry.

He then turned to Haruhi and said, without room for question, “make the black coffee a hot chocolate. And put all the drinks in to-go cups.”

Haruhi smiled, and used a marker to write “black” on the paper cup that would be destined to not, in fact, have any coffee in it whatsoever. She was already thinking similarly, but had been waiting for Mori to declare it officially.

Haruhi helped Mori carry the trays of drinks and pastries out to the sidewalk tables. He carefully placed the correct one in front of Haninozuka and gave a half smile. Haninozuka barely noticed, staring dead ahead, bracing himself for what would be an absolute trial of bitter drink and plain food. She distributed napkins and utensils appropriately. They both chimed “Thank you, please enjoy,” and turned to head back inside.

“Why don’t you wipe down table 3?” prompted Haruhi, who magically produced a clean damp rag and offered it to Mori. Table 3 was inside the shop, but aside from the large pane of clear glass, was right next to the sidewalk tables. The audio was barely muffled. Mori took the cloth and singlemindedly started wiping at a table that was cerftifiably already clean.

Haninozuka tremulously started with the pastry. He nibbled cautiously at one corner. He sighed.

Mori cursed silently. “You have to take a bigger bite to get to the filling!” he thought.

Haninozuka couldn’t bring himself to try a sip of black coffee yet. He went back to the croissant. This time a luscious double whammy of chocolate and hazelnut hit his tongue. His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

Haninozuka Yasuchika, his brother, was taking a bite of his own pastry and found the kouign-amann satisfactorily salty as well as only lightly sweet. He grabbed his latte and brought it to his lips, then paused. He couldn’t help himself. Squinting suspiciously through his glasses, which light glinted off of even though they were all fully sitting in the shade, he prodded verbally “what about your black coffee, Mitsukuni-san?”

Mori kept pushing the cleaning rag over a now polished strip of an already spotless table and watched intently. “Mitsukuni” he thought to himself. “A nice name. And… I feel like I know it?”

Mitsukuni tried to not lament the inevitable ruination of his surprisingly edible, nay delicious, croissant. He reached for his cup and brought it closer. Holding his breath, so as not to overpower his sense of taste, he sipped delicately. Yasuchika grinned.

“Why it is perfectly tasty, brother! As usual, I mean.” Mitsukuni smiled, practically florid.

Yasuchika was caught between doubt and relief. His alien brother had so obviously hated giving up sweet things this past month. How could anyone go from entire cakes to once piece of (albeit very nice) plain bread? And from the most syrupy, whipped cream-bedecked drinks to black coffee? It was an unprecendented transformation. But on the other hand, Yasuchika felt accomplished. He had singlehandedly pressured his older brother to reform his ways. It was for the best, obviously. What sort of dojo is led by someone who would do anything for a chocolate bar? The lack of self control was shameful.

The other three guys were completely oblivious to the intimate details of sugary drama. They had simply thought it would be a good idea to bring their sensei to the only place they had seen him happy in recent memory, as part of a quiet campaign to improve the captain’s mood. Practice had gotten shockingly intense this past week, and, if they were to survive next week they needed their sensei to ease off a touch. Not that they could EVER say so to his face.

Mori checked that Mitsukuni was happily enjoying his hot chocolate and pastry, and that Yasuchika remained none the wiser. Satisfied, he decided the table’s newly worn hole was deep enough and turned back to his work behind the service counter. Haruhi winked and said nothing.

---

It was almost another week before Mitsukuni came back to the patisserie. Mori had been more patient this time. He felt firmly confident that Mitsukuni would find his way back when he was ready.

And his patience was rewarded, in a way.

Mitsukuni staggered in, after dark and only twenty minutes before closing. His eyes were bleary and his countenance groggy and listless. Mitsukuni, usually so sprightly and upright, dragged his bookbag on the ground and pulled up to the duck-watching table. Mori wasn’t sure what to do. Hand the man a hot chocolate as usual? Or… ask how he was doing???

Mori decided to walk over and offer some direct, compassionate human interaction. “Good evening,” he said, simply.

Mitsukuni looked up, with dark circles under his eyes.

He slammed his hand on the table, which startled Mori for but a moment, and said “I wanna shot!”

“...” said Mori.

“Of chocolate syrup, I mean. Like, a couple pumps in an espresso glass.”

Mori left and came back in an inhumanly fast turnaround with exactly that, and offered the teeny glass full of viscous sugary syrup to Mitsukuni, who promptly sucked it down and smacked the glass upside down on the table. “Another!” he garbled.

Mori didn’t remember grabbing the entire syrup bottle, but it was in his hand already. He decided not to think too hard about that and just left the entire thing on the table and walked away, back to cleaning up behind the counter for the night.

Well after the shop closed, with most of the lights off, save for the one over the register, Mori was done closing with one exception. Mitsukuni was finishing the last of the chocolate syrup. He had perked up considerably, and was now waving his arms animatedly, talking fast about his troubles.

“And Chika-chan comes up to me, and says, you know what he says?” Mori did not know. “He says that real men don’t like sweet things! He tells me I won’t be able to get any respect from my men if I keep eating midnight cakes and carrying candies in my pockets!”

Mori assumed Chika-chan must be the grumpy boy in glasses from the other day. He couldn’t say he liked him, particularly. Or, to be more precise, he didn’t like anyone who dared tell Mitsukuni that his respectability was dependent on having “appropriate” and “masculine” interests.

Mitsukuni blurted out a final exclamation of “Chika doesn’t have the balls to talk shit about Usa-chan, though!” and he… passed out.

Mori didn’t know who this Usa-chan was, but he did know that the shop was closed and that Mitsukuni needed to go home. But where was home?

He decided to try something. He looked up the name “Mitsukuni” along with the words “Bunkyo ward” and “dojo.” The search results were conveniently helpful, offering a website that encouraged serious karate students to sign up under the tutelage of Haninozuka Mitskuni.

“Oh. He is really that Haninozuka,” Mori thought to himself. Ages ago, there had been a falling out between their families. Once a close bond through fealty and eventually marriage and bloodline between the Haninozuka and the Morinozuka families, had been broken a couple generations back. The stories we still told, the wounds still fresh. Mori hadn’t even thought about them as “real” since they had become more of a background radiation to his life than a pressing influence. Until today, that is.

He grabbed the leather book bag and slung it over his shoulder, and then picked Mitsukuni up gingerly. Mitsukuni remained unconscious, a few smears of chocolate around his mouth. A legendary sugar crash.

Mori locked up the shop, without even having to put the boy down. He walked towards the Haninozuka family dojo, which was close by.

The lights were on. It was fairly quiet on the grounds. Only once voice was shouting from inside the dojo training hall as they practiced the forms.

Mori called out. “Excuse me. I have your sensei.”

A surprised face poked out. It was Yasuchika. “My… sensei? Oh, you mean my brother, Mitsukuni.” He looked suspiciously at Mori. “Who are you? What did you do to him?”

“I work at the French pastry shop up the street. I didn’t do anything, he was just very very tired.”

Mori purposefully “forgot” to mention his name. And he didn’t want to stick around to find out what Yasuchika really thought of him, especially with their families at odds.

Instead, he gently deposited Mitsukuni’s slumbering form on a training mat and put the book bag down next to him. Mori looked into his calm, round face and committed it to memory. Then he issued a quick departing bow and turned away, leaving the compound. He didn’t look back with his eyes, but a small part of him looked forward with his heart, in a complicated way.

He couldn’t shake that, despite it all, he still wanted to see this Haninozuka back at his patisserie and cafe. He walked home, tired.

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wangxiangiftexchange · 3 years

Text

Winter Solstice Gift for moonanstars124

The request was for fluff, found family, annoying the extended family, and AU coffee shop vibes (which I took extremely literally). I had a lot of fun writing this (my first actual coffee shop AU!) and I hope you enjoy it @moonanstars124!

Read on AO3

*****

The Burial Grounds

“Is there even a point in telling you what I want?” Jin Zixuan asks. “As you’ve never once made what I ordered.”

Wei Wuxian beams at him. “Of course! It gives me direction. A genre, if you will.”

“You do have a specific listing for a surprise drink.” Jin Zixuan resettles a-Ling on his hip. “If I wanted that, don’t you think I’d have ordered it?”

“Well, no,” Wei Wuxian explains reasonably. He reaches across the counter and pats the baby’s cheek. “If you wanted to get what you ordered, you’d have asked Wen Ning to make it.” Wen Ning turns from where he is setting up the soup tureen to shrug in apologetic agreement.

Jin Zixuan sighs deeply. “Someday I’m going to stop tipping you.”

“You can do that on the day that you don’t like what I make you,” Wei Wuxian informs him. “I mean, you won’t, because ajie would never stay married to someone who didn’t tip. But I would understand if you considered it.”

Lan Wangji half-listens to the exchange from his corner table. It is a familiar one, enough so to be pleasant background noise without distracting too much from his book. When the proper disruption comes, it is neither unexpected nor unwelcome, as it happens every morning around this time. He has already closed his book and moved his empty cup to make room for the small chalkboard that appears in front of him.

“Spicy vegetable for the soup,” Wei Wuxian announces, flinging himself down in the other chair. It is not yet nine in the morning, and he already looks happily tired. Lan Wangji nods and wipes the board clean—perhaps not strictly necessary, but if he redoes the borders, Wei Wuxian will sit with him for longer and take a proper break. “White chocolate and cranberry scones, because ajie loves us very much. And...hm. I’ll do a blueberry mint lemonade today, I think. Do we have blueberries?”

This last is for Wen Ning, who sets down Wei Wuxian’s coffee, Lan Wangji’s refill, and a plate with two of the aforementioned scones. “We do,” Wen Ning confirms. “But they’ll go moldy soon, so you should use them up.”

“Perfect.” Wen Ning smiles at both of them and returns to the counter. Wei Wuxian leans back in his chair, stretches his legs full-length, and looks around the coffee shop with satisfaction. One of his ankles comes to rest against Lan Wangji’s. Without looking up from the chalkboard, Lan Wangji puts his free hand on the table. Wei Wuxian laces their fingers together and dips a scone in his drink.

This is how mornings have gone nearly every day for a few years now. Wen Ning arrives early to open; Wei Wuxian staggers down from the apartment upstairs after being prodded awake by Lan Wangji, who claims his table and reads as the coffee shop comes to life around him. Jin Zixuan arrives at some point, bearing the day’s soup and pastries from Lotus Pier Cafe and often as not a dinner invitation for all of them from Jiang Yanli. Lan Wangji earns his coffee by writing out the day’s specials; Wei Wuxian seizes the opportunity to sit down for as long as it takes him to complete the task. Then Lan Wangji gives his table over to the morning rush and goes to work himself. Cloud Recesses Books is close enough to walk to in good weather, and he gets there in time to open. When the coffeeshop closes at three, Wei Wuxian wanders over and spends the rest of the afternoon doing his own reading or debating with Lan Qiren. It is a pleasant routine, and Lan Wangji sometimes has to stop and wonder at how happy he is.

There has been a coffee shop here for decades, under one owner or another, but the Jiangs bought it only three years ago. Lan Wangji remembers perfectly the first time he visited it after that. It was Lan Xichen’s idea to see what the new management had done with the place, and they went for lunch the first month after it reopened. “‘The Burial Grounds?’” Lan Xichen reads, pausing outside the door. “Interesting name choice.”

“After the Burial Mounds, presumably,” Lan Wangji points out. “The nature preserve outside the city.”

“Ah,” his brother says. “Naturally.”

Despite the name, the inside is entirely pleasant: walls repainted to brighten the space, spider plants hanging in the windows, a detailed menu in plain neat lettering on the chalkboard above the counter, specials in the same writing on a smaller one by the pastry case. “They must outsource their food,” Lan Xichen observes, nodding at the familiar lotus image. “The Jiangs own Lotus Pier too, so it makes sense.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says. He is listening. He is.

Lan Xichen follows his gaze to the mug on the counter, which holds pens for signing receipts and also a small rainbow flag. “Ah,” he agrees. “That is a pleasing development.”

The line is long enough that they can take their time reading the menu. This is good, because it contains none of the conventional titles. The Med Student, Lan Wangji reads. Four espresso shots in a cup. Below that is The Jiejie: soooooup! (See Specials board for today’s variety). And on and on: The Peacock (a white chocolate mocha with nutmeg), The Angry Brother (chamomile and hibiscus tea), The Adorable Nephew (warm milk with honey), The Headshaker (“Decisions are hard, so let us surprise you!”). Some have less of a story, Lan Wangji thinks: The First Timer is just a latte, and The Adventurer promises undisclosed amounts of cayenne. The result is a place that feels well-loved without being unwelcoming.

“It certainly has character,” Lan Xichen observes as they near the counter. The young man who takes their orders has a quiet earnest smile; he carefully lists the non-dairy milk options for Lan Wangji.

Despite the line, they find a window table easily enough—it is towards the end of the lunch hour—and they watch the street while they wait. It is only a few minutes before a different employee appears with their orders, mugs and bowls balanced precariously enough that Lan Wangji watches the soup in some alarm. But the dishes and their contents reach the table safely, which means that he can look up when the server says brightly, “Can I get you anything else?”

Lan Wangji thinks, Oh. He only barely prevents himself from saying it aloud, and the effort keeps him from speaking at all.

“Oh, wow,” the beautiful man says, staring back at him. Then he shakes himself. “Uh. Sorry. Is this your first time here?”

“We thought we’d see what the new ownership had done with it,” Lan Xichen explains. There is laughter in his voice, subtle enough that Lan Wangji hopes nobody else can hear it. “Our family owns Cloud Recesses, the—”

“The bookshop down the street!” The server’s face lights up—lights up more—and Lan Wangji gives up any hope of forming words himself. “I’ve been in there a few times. I thought you looked familiar.” This is to Lan Xichen; to Lan Wangji, he says, “I haven’t seen you before, though.” He does not say, I would remember, but the sentiment comes through clearly enough that Lan Wangji feels his ears go pink.

“My brother just finished university,” Lan Xichen explains. The amusement has become noticeably less subtle. “He will be working with us.”

“Oh wonderful!” the beautiful man says. “We’ll hope to see you again, then. Both of you, of course.” He sticks his hands into his apron pockets. “I’m Wei Wuxian, the manager. Which is, you know, terrifying. I’m probably not supposed to tell customers that part, though.”

Lan Xichen laughs aloud now, kindly, and Lan Wangji loves his brother for the way the beautiful man—Wei Wuxian—relaxes. “We understand,” Lan Xichen says. “Starting a business is a rather stressful experience at the best of times. I am Lan Xichen; this is Lan Wangji.”

“Welcome to the Burial Grounds, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian says gravely, eyes dancing. “Please do let me know if you need anything. Or Wen Ning, he’s honestly much more capable than I am.” He jerks his head towards the counter, where the young man who took their orders is wiping down the espresso machine. “Anyway, I have to get back to work, but I hope you’ll come back.”

“I am certain we will,” Lan Xichen assures him. Wei Wuxian’s eyes linger on Lan Wangji’s face for a moment. When he manages to nod agreement, the smile widens. Wei Wuxian ducks his head at both of them and disappears into what is presumably the back room.

“Well,” Lan Xichen says, after a moment. “This is a delightful discovery.”

“Brother,” Lan Wangji says, deeply pained. He suspects that his ears have gone full scarlet by now.

“I mean the coffee shop, of course.” Lan Xichen takes a sip of his latte and hums with pleasure. “And as a small business ourselves, it’s only right to support others in the neighborhood. We shall have to become regulars.”

Lan Wangji sighs.

He returns alone the next day, just for a coffee in the morning. The one after that, Wei Wuxian sets his drink on the table with a hesitation that already seems out of character. When Lan Wangji tilts his head in question, he says, “I, uh, made you something special. If you want the one you actually ordered, I’ll do that instead, I just...sometimes I get the idea for new things, and I thought you’d like this one.”

Lan Wangji looks at the mug in front of him. It looks like the perfectly dull mocha that he had ordered, unsure what else to get, except that there are flower buds of some kind on top of the foam. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods and takes a cautious sip. “Lavender,” he says. He closes his eyes, which helps keep his brain from panicking when Wei Wuxian sits down in the empty chair. “Salt. Something sweet, apart from the chocolate?”

When he opens his eyes, Wei Wuxian’s smile is brilliant. “Birch syrup,” he confirms. “Good, I wasn’t sure how much that would come through; I haven’t used it before. But do you like it? You’re the first person to try that one.”

“Mm.” Lan Wangji looks down at the cup again: something made just for him, not for anyone else. “I like it.” He lifts his head again.

“Oh, wow,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, as he had the first day. “Sorry, I know I’m being weird. I just hadn’t seen you smile before.”

“Not weird,” Lan Wangji says, when he finds his voice. “At least, I don’t mind.” He clears his throat. “Thank you. For the drink. You should put it on the menu.”

“Yeah?” Wei Wuxian grins. “I can do that.”

There is indeed a new listing on the large chalkboard the following day: Dark chocolate mocha with lavender, sea salt, and birch syrup. Lan Wangji looks at the name of it and swallows. The Beautiful Stranger, it says, printed neatly in white chalk below The Headshaker.

When he has been coming to the Burial Grounds several times a week for a month, Lan Wangji arrives one morning to find Wei Wuxian darting frantically back and forth behind the counter. “Wen Ning called out sick,” he explains, when Lan Wangji gets to the front of the line. “This is definitely my reminder to hire more staff. I meant to, since we’ve been doing pretty well, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it. Anyway, sorry, what can I get you?”

Lan Wangji looks at the smear of cocoa powder on his cheek and says, “Is there anything I can do? I do not know how to use the machines, but I could help with other things.”

“You know,” Wei Wuxian says, “that would actually be amazing. Uh, let’s see. I need to get the Specials board up but my handwriting is atrocious. Would you mind? We’ve got chicken dumpling soup and vegan ginger snaps. No drink specials because I have too much else to worry about today.”

When that task is done (“Oh my god,” Wei Wuxian says, staring. “Well, I know I’m never ever showing you my writing”), Lan Wangji clears tables and wipes down the counter and takes orders. All the while, Wei Wuxian darts around the shop like a cheerful whirlwind. “Don’t you have to go to work?” he asks at one point, managing to pour a perfect latte and read the next ticket at once. “I’ll manage. I mean, I don’t know how, but—”

“I have texted my brother,” Lan Wangji says calmly. “He and uncle will cover the bookshop today.”

“...Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “I feel like I should fight you on that, but also I don’t have time. Thank you.”

At three o’clock, Wei Wuxian sets the Closed sign, draws the curtains, and collapses facedown onto the couch where the college students like to study. Lan Wangji regards him for a moment, then puts down the rag he was using to wipe down the last table. He still cannot use the espresso machine, but the kettle is a more familiar creature.

Wei Wuxian lifts his head blearily at the clink of saucer on table. He sits up enough to drink his tea without spilling it, and he devours two of the ginger snaps that Lan Wangji brought over in rapid succession. Lan Wangji sits down in the armchair across from the couch and sips his own tea.

The cookies seem to revive Wei Wuxian a little. “Thank you,” he says. “Again. For the tea and for, you know, everything. How can I repay you? Not a rhetorical question.”

Lan Wangji cradles his tea, glad to have something to do with his hands. “Well,” he says, “when I came in this morning, I meant to ask if you would have dinner with me.”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian looks at him, wide-eyed. “I—hang on, past tense? Did you change your mind? I guess you did just get the total immersion experience, which I’m told is a lot—”

“I enjoyed the experience,” Lan Wangji says. “But I do not wish you to feel obligated. I will not ask you in a conversation about compensation for my labor.”

“...Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “Because you think about things like that, because you’re a ridiculously good person as well as gorgeous and in possession of unbelievably nice handwriting. Hold on.” He sets down his mug and goes to the counter, does something out of sight involving paper and a pen, and returns. “Here.” Lan Wangji puts down his own tea and inspects the offering: a gift certificate (filled out in a scrawl that is admittedly dreadful) for enough to keep him supplied with coffee for a month, more if he cuts down on his visits. “And I’ll get you all the tips from today, once they’re counted.”

Lan Wangji does not imagine that he will be cutting down on his visits.

“This will do,” he decides, and tucks the paper away in his wallet. “And half the tips. You worked very hard.”

When he looks up again, Wei Wuxian is fidgeting beside his chair. “Sure,” he says. “Great. So is the compensation conversation finished? Can we have the other one now?”

Lan Wangji smiles; he cannot do anything else. Deliberately, he stands up so they are facing each other. Wei Wuxian swallows, but his eyes are bright and he is smiling helplessly as well. Lan Wangji says, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian replies immediately. Then, “You mean like a real date, right? I mean, I’d still say yes either way, but just so we’re clear.”

“A real date,” Lan Wangji confirms.

“Oh wonderful,” Wei Wuxian says. “I really hoped that was what you meant. Yes. Did I already say that?”

He is still in his apron, which has great smears on it from when a cup of coffee spilled on the counter earlier. His hair is coming loose from its tie for at least the fourth time that day; there is raspberry syrup on his forehead and powdered sugar on his nose. He is very, very beautiful.

Lan Wangji reaches up and tucks one loose strand of hair behind his ear. It does very little to help anything, but it means that he gets to feel the slight intake of breath as Wei Wuxian goes still. Lan Wangji does not drop his hand back to his side. Instead, he cups Wei Wuxian’s cheek very gently. He whispers, “May I—”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, a little hoarsely. “Yeah, yes, please—”

Lan Wangji kisses him. Wei Wuxian makes a soft sweet sound and puts both arms around his neck; Lan Wangji cradles his face a little more firmly and drops his other hand to the small of Wei Wuxian’s back, drawing him in.

And so now it has been three years, or near enough. Lan Wangji dutifully writes out the Specials board every morning; the main menu also bears his script. He has met Wen Qing, who is now a surgeon and no longer the Med Student of the four expresso shots but who remains alarmingly intense. He has also met the Adorable Nephew and the Headshaker as well as the Peacock, Jiejie, and the Angry Brother, all three of whom received him with some combination of suspicion and amusement. “So you’re the Beautiful Stranger,” Jiang Cheng says, having shown up at the Burial Grounds to demand an introduction all of two days after that first date. “Hmph. He’s been yammering about you for a month; you better have been worth it.”

Lan Wangji is trying to be worth it. He plans to ask Wei Wuxian to marry him soon, and he thinks that Wei Wuxian will probably accept. This doesn’t really make the prospect of proposing any less daunting; what does is the way Wei Wuxian pulls him back to bed for sleepy kisses in the mornings, trusting and sure of affection reciprocated. Lan Wangji rather expects that he will slip and ask the question at one of these times, rather than at the dinner date he has scheduled for their anniversary. He doesn’t really mind the idea.

#moonanstars124 #wangxiansolstice20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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lemonpeter · 3 years

Text

Sugar And Spice

Chapter 1

So, here is the beginning of a new fic! I’m really excited about this one, I love pregnancy fics so this is my kinda unconventional take on one lol I hope everyone enjoys 💕 I’m a little nervous to post it because I love it but I’m not sure other people will, so please don’t be too harsh 💕

On ao3

Warnings: discussion of pregnancy (not mpreg, this is not that kind of fic), surrogacy, Peter’s age isn’t mentioned (but he’s somewhere in his early 20s)

————

The first time Peter proposed his wish it was completely out of blue.

He and Tony were cuddled up together, just holding each other and whispering sweet nothings that made the other blush uncontrollably. It was one of their favorite pastimes together, always entertaining.

But one thing Peter whispered was completely different than the others:

“God, I want a baby with you.”

To say it surprised Tony was an understatement.

The older man choked on his own tongue, coughing and sputtering until he caught his breath again. “You...Peter. Honey. Love of my life. You realize that’s...impossible, right?”

His husband just sighed a little, kissing him gently. “I mean, it’s impossible from us, but we could still have a baby. We could adopt. Or something like that.”

Tony watched him, trying to gauge if he was serious. But the dreamy look on the other’s face told him that this really was something he wanted. “Yeah...something like that….”

They’d talked about kids before. Peter wanted them, Tony wasn’t sure. He’d never even considered the possibility for a multitude of reasons before he met Peter. But then they got together and he saw the appeal of having children. Of course, it wouldn’t just happen, but there were other ways. They just hadn’t really discussed them too much.

Although he figured maybe the time of not talking about it was over.

But then it didn’t get elaborated on. Maybe Peter got embarrassed, maybe it was just a fleeting thought he shared. So it was a while before it was talked about again.

It wasn’t brought up again for nearly six months.

But then they were buying their first house together. Not an apartment, not a penthouse over Stark Industries. An actual house, complete with their own land and-

And it had a couple extra bedrooms.

Tony’s thinking was that they could use them for storage, maybe knock out a wall between a couple of the rooms to make an extended lab.

Peter, on the other hand, touched the door frame of one with more gentleness than Tony had ever seen. A tiny, dreamy smile pulled at his lips.

“What, honey? You got any ideas for this one?”

The younger man nodded a little as he turned to face his husband again. “This room would be so perfect for a nursery.”

And Tony was taken by surprise all over again. He didn’t choke this time, at least.

But his heartbeat sped up considerably and suddenly he could see exactly what Peter was talking about.

His eyes darted around the room as he mentally mapped everything out. A crib in that corner, a changing table there, play area, dresser. He envisioned Peter entering the room with a little baby in his arms as he hummed under his breath.

Wait- no, the humming really was coming from Peter.

“What do you think?” He asked nervously. “Is that stupid? I mean, I know we can’t really...yknow. But I still….” he trailed off, sighing a little. “Never mind.”

The nervousness and shutting himself down made Tony think that maybe that was why it hadn’t been talked about again.

“No, no,” Tony quickly assured him. “I can definitely…” he looked around the room. “Yeah, I can definitely see a nursery in here.”

The younger man still looked down, sighing again. “But it’s not...possible. I know.” He rubbed his arm, an action Tony knew he used to calm himself down. The fact that they couldn’t have kids genuinely upset him.

That just wouldn’t do.

“Hey, don’t say that. We could still have a baby. We could adopt, like you’ve talked about. Or there’s the surrogate route.”

Peter watched Tony, nodding a little. “Yeah...you’re right….” he just didn’t know how to really go about anything.

Tony hummed a little, one finger tapping to his chin as the ideas flooded his mind.

His husband watched curiously. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, nothing. But all I’m saying is it’s not impossible. Maybe in one way it is, but there’s always more than one way.”

The younger man finally smiled a little, nodding. “Yeah. Maybe we can...look into other ways?”

“Of course, honey. Of course we can.” He picked the man up and spun him around, laughing softly before kissing him. “We’ll have our baby.” He looked around the room. “You’re so right about this room, honey. I can’t wait to see it in action.”

———

The house was purchased and a week later they started moving in.

They worked hard, filling every room that they had plans and decor for. The rest of the avengers helped as well as some of Peter’s non-powered friends. Everything was unloaded pretty quickly and then Peter and Tony were alone again.

Peter disappeared for a while after Tony started on sorting out his tools and things in the garage. But after a while, he started missing his husband and went looking for him.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to find him in the vacant room that they had discussed being a nursery.

The younger man was sitting on the floor, fingers sliding over the soft, new carpet.

There was no furniture or any boxes in the room, as Tony specifically told everyone to keep it empty. They had plans for it, even if the plans weren’t set in stone yet.

Tony moved to sit next to Peter, groaning a little as he felt his knees creak in protest. “God, my knees and back are really feeling the heavy lifting we did.”

His husband looked at him, laughing softly. “I told you to leave the lifting to the super people. Your poor old man back can’t handle it,” he teased.

The older man snorted. “Oh, shut up. I’m not old. Just got a decade of superheroing and being thrown around under my belt. My poor body has been through a lot.”

“Uh huh. So you should have left it to us.”

Tony chuckled. “I know, I know….” he smiled a little. “So...have you just been sitting in here?”

“Yeah,” Peter admitted. “Is that super weird?”

“I kind of expected it,” Tony told him. “You’ve got baby fever,” he teased. “Of course you’d be in the nursery.”

“Not a nursery yet.”

“Yet.”

There was a moment of silence, almost tense as Peter audibly took a heavy breath.

“I want a baby so bad, Tony. I don’t know why it’s so sudden but it is. We would be such good parents! And we’ve got a new house with space, a big yard, more than enough money to support a child.” He sighed a little. “But I know...you don’t really….”

“What? I don’t what?”

“You don’t...really want kids. I know we’ve talked about it but-“

Tony made an offended noise. “I do want kids. I wouldn’t lie to you about that. Peter, I would love to have a child with you. It just takes time to look into everything, a baby isn’t just a split second decision.”

“Then let’s talk about it. Let’s talk. Plan. Find the best plan for us. Let’s do this, Tony!” Peter looked at him, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. He had put himself down for so long because he didn’t think that Tony really wanted kids. So he would jump at the chance to talk knowing that wasn’t actually the case.

“Okay. Okay.” He smiled a little. “We’ll talk about it. But for tonight we need to relax. Most of everything is set up and we have a new house to christen,” he joked.

“You’re so dirty,” Peter laughed, covering his mouth.

“Is that a no?”

“No, we definitely need to do that. Doesn’t make you any less dirty, though.”

———

They did months of research.

Adoption was ruled out after a bit, it seemed too emotionally complicated from their points of view. And they’d determined that they want one of them to share genetics with the baby. Even if both of them couldn’t be biological parents, they wanted to have one. They wanted their baby to look like them.

So they began looking into surrogacy instead.

They got in touch with an agency to draw up a baseline contract while they looked for the perfect candidate. And there were many candidates to talk to.

All of the women they interviewed were nice and seemed like good people, but none felt like the One.

Until they met Beatrice.

She was on the younger side and sweet, helpful and seemingly right for them right from the first phone interview. So they set up an in person meeting next.

The first thing that Tony noticed was her eyes.

He didn’t want to say that they looked like Peter’s, because no one could match the level of beauty that his husband’s eyes held. But they were similar enough that he instantly felt a connection to her.

And his immediate thought was that if she was a good match, their baby could potentially look like both of them. Since Beatrice looked so much like Peter.

That wouldn’t be a bad thing at all.

“Come in, let’s sit down,” she murmured, gesturing towards a table and chairs.

They’d set up the meeting at a cafe, so it would be a nice and relaxed setting. And so Peter could have a cup to fidget with nervously as they talked. It seemed like the perfect setting.

“I’ll go order, what do you want, Beatrice?” Tony asked. He slid his fingers over the back of the chair as Peter sat down.

“You don’t have to do that, Mr. Stark, I can do it,” the woman told him, starting to stand.

“No, it’s alright. I can order so you and Peter can talk and I’ll pay for your drink.”

She sat back down, smiling a little. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. That’s very kind. I think I’ll just have...oh, anything mocha. Surprise me. As long as it’s got chocolate.” She laughed, looking across the table to Peter.

Tony nodded. “Perfect. I’ll go place the orders. Be back in a moment.” He walked into the building, humming to himself as he did.

Peter smiled at the woman across from him once Tony was gone. “So, have you ever done this before?”

“The interview part? Or the actual end goal?”

“The second one. Have you been a surrogate for anyone yet?” He asked curiously.

“I have. Just once before.” Beatrice smiled a little. “But I’m still in tip top condition so I’m happy to help someone else. And I have my own kiddo at home, so I’ve actually done the whole pregnancy and birth thing twice.” She laughed.

“How did it work the first time? For you and for the family?”

She leaned back in the chair a little. “Well….”

———

When Tony came back, the other two were getting along fine and laughing.

“Glad to see you two are having fun.” He grinned, setting the drink carrier down on the table and sitting next to Peter. “Oh, and I got you a salted caramel mocha,” he told Beatrice. “I hope it’s good.”

“I bet it’s perfect,” she assured him, taking her drink.

Peter smiled, grabbing his cup and taking a sip. He hummed. “Absolutely perfect. Thanks, Tones.”

“What did you get? Probably something fancy-shmancy, being married to this guy,” Beatrice joked.

Tony snorted. “He doesn’t even drink coffee. He has hot chocolate.”

“Fair enough.”

“So what did you guys talk about while I was gone?”

Peter hummed, sipping his drink before talking. “Just about the first time she did this. Carried for someone. It sounds like it went smoothly.” Which was typically a good sign. Even though pregnancies were fairly unpredictable. “And how it all worked between them.”

“Them?” Tony asked.

“Me and the family,” Beatrice told him. “Things were good. They still are. I still get to see the kid if I want to. We’ve had a few meetings.”

The older man nodded. “That sounds really good.” He glanced to Peter.

His husband was absolutely beaming, eyes bright and excited as they kept talking.

He didn’t have to say anything for Tony to know what he was thinking. Of course they’d have to talk about it...but she seemed like the one.

They went on for nearly an hour, discussing every little detail, talking about their lives, things that mattered and things that didn’t matter for the arrangement. They ended the interview with a promise of a next meeting and friendly goodbyes.

Peter and Tony got into their car, taking a moment to relax and process everything that had gone on in their time with the candidate.

Then Peter started crying.

“Honey, what is it?” Tony asked, worried. “Hey, talk to me. Did it not go well?” He was worried that maybe he misread his husband’s reactions to everything. Maybe everything wasn’t as good as he thought.

But, “She’s perfect,” the other man whispered, wiping his eyes. “Tony, it has to be her. She has to be the one. Do a next meeting, all the background stuff, whatever. But it has to be her.”

A smile tugged at Tony’s lips and he nodded. “Of course, honey. Let’s contact the agency. See how she felt about everything. But I think we’ve found our girl.”

“She’s gonna have our baby,” Peter said happily. “God, this is so perfect.”

And Tony couldn’t disagree with that.

#starker #peter parker #tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #tony x peter #married starker #tw pregnancy #pregnancy fic #sugar and spice au #my writing #I think I’ve tagged everything but #someone let me know if I forgot anything #original female character #forgot whoops #Beatrice (sugar and spice)

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wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.VII: Shattered Memories

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, Angst, Fluff, light Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, mentions of trauma, brief depictions of sexual content, nudity, mentions of alcohol, some satanic themes, etc.

word count: 6,9k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Your eyes desperately survey the dim room, searching for a way to escape from this strange man who magically appeared in your bedroom. There’s no possibility of reaching the door without alerting him to your motives, nor is the window even an option since your apartment is almost nine stories up. You’ll need to come up with a different plan… Even if it means fighting your way out.

“Look, I know it’s hard to believe—”

You glare incredulously at the stranger, curling further into your bed to create more distance between your forms while hissing, “Jackson Wang died years ago, so unless you have some logical explanation or something, then I’m going to kindly ask you to get out of my fucking apartment before I call the police!”

“I do have a logical explanation!” The man insists as you take another glance at your surroundings. If you play your cards right, you might be able to grab the tea mug off your nightstand, throw it at the stranger, and while he’s distracted, make a break for the door. If anything, the noise will hopefully wake up Sana…

You snap out of your thoughts when you notice the man beginning to approach your safe perch. Deciding now is better than never, you lurch forward to grab the cup and heave it toward the stranger with all your might. However, the object merely soars straight through the man’s head and shatters against the opposite wall with a loud crash. He continues to stare at you as if nothing even happened.

A choked breath slips past your lips. “What… the fuck…”

“I tried to tell you.” The man raises his hands, as if to promise pacifism, and literally slides one arm inside the closed door of your closet, “I am Jackson Wang, and I am dead… but you’re still somehow able to see my spirit.”

“So you’re… a ghost?”

He nods.

You narrow your eyes, still suspicious. “If you’re Jackson, then how did you die?”

“I was killed.”

“By who?”

Jackson tilts his head, “Mark never told you…?”

Your shoulders slightly loosen at the mention of your witch best friend, but you still remain on your toes in case you have to grab and weaponize your lamp. “How do you know about Mark and I?”

“Because I’ve been watching you guys.” Jackson’s eyes widen. “Shit—that sounded really creepy. Think of it like… a guardian angel? Kind of?”

“What?”

He waves his hands as if expelling the idea before moving on, “If you’re a supernatural being, and you die, your spirit doesn’t really cross over like a mortal would. You’re kind of just… stuck in this place of limbo called the Other Side.”

“But how are you able to be here? And how can I see you?”

“Spirits can attach themselves to people or objects, and use their energy to stay in the land of the living.” Jackson shrugs, “As for how you can see me, I have no clue. I’m honestly just as surprised as you are.”

You bite your lip, trying to configure whether he’s telling the truth. If only you had asked Mark to describe Jackson back in the cave, then maybe you could have matched up his appearance. But all you have to go off of is this ghost’s words… which for the most part, seem genuine. And he hasn’t tried to hurt you—big props.

“Okay. Let’s just say I believe you for now,” You start before quickly raising a stern finger to point your companion, “but I have tons of questions. For starters, why the hell are you in my room?”

“I don’t really know.” Jackson grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “It sounds really weird, but it was like I was drawn to you…”

“Drawn to me? You mean like a magnetic pull or something?”

He nods. “Exactly. But I really don’t know why. Maybe it has to do with how you can see me.”

Feeling hot, you shove the heavy blankets from your body and embrace the newfound cold air against your bare skin. An exhausted, baffled sigh escapes as you bury your face in your palms, hoping to calm the throbbing in your head. Your thoughts are too wild though, and you end up meeting Jackson’s gaze in a matter of seconds.

“So am I supposed to play Ghost Whisperer and help you cross over…?”

“I don’t think so.” You fight off the urge to flinch as Jackson collapses onto the end of your bed with a deep huff, “But whatever it is, it’s really nice to have someone to talk to…”

“Are you alone? Like can you talk to other ghosts?”

“I can, but it doesn’t happen very often. A lot of people on the Other Side can be pretty… intense.”

To your dismay, your heart yearns for him. You grew up on your own after all, so you can understand what it feels like to be lonely.

“You never answered my question from before.” You say after a brief moment of silence, “...Who killed you?”

Jackson’s eyes are dark as he thinks over your question, almost hesitating to give you the answer. While he’s debating with himself, you take the time to study his features. Now that he’s sitting entirely in the light and you’re able to see everything.

You’re not surprised you mistook him as a human, because there’s literally no physical detail that reveals his ghastly nature. Unlike the ghost stories you’ve known, his skin is dark like honey and not transparent, while his lips are slightly chapped and hued the palest of pinks. His hair is a mocha-type brown with a couple sun-kissed caramel highlights, complimenting the sharpness of his handsome features.

In summary, he looked no less human than another man. Although probably a bit more on the attractive side.

“It’s honestly a long and complicated story.” Jackson says after a while, yanking your attention away from his well-defined jawline. Even so, you still continue to stare as he leans back to lay on your mattress, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression. “I should really tell you everything from the beginning.”

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere at…” You peer at the clock above your closet, “3 AM. We’ve got plenty of time to talk.”

He shakes his head, “It’s not that easy. I can’t stay on this plane for too long, or else some of the witches on the Other Side will pull me back.”

“How long do you have?”

“Honestly… seconds.” The ghost forces himself back to a sitting position in order to better face you, “We’re technically not supposed to cross into the plane of the living. I’ve been caught a couple times before, so the witches have been keeping a close eye on me.”

You furrow your brows. “Why don’t the witches want you over here?”

“Because they’re afraid of upsetting the balance of nature. You’ve talked to Mark a little about that, right?”

“He mentioned it once or twice.” You watch as Jackson rises from your bed and begins to head back to the corner in which you first saw him. He catches your gaze when he turns back around, offering forth a small smile.

“Sorry for scaring you, by the way.” He chuckles.

You shrug, your own lips upturning slightly. “It’s not everyday you talk to a ghost.”

Jackson nods at your response before glancing toward the mounted clock. It’s subtle, but you manage to catch the slight flash of worry that overtakes his bright irises. When he turns his attention back to you, however, the concern is gone.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to return, but in the meantime, I want you to go talk to my pack.” Unlike beforehand, Jackson’s tone is scarily serious. Though it still contains remnants of his unusual gentleness. “They’ll tell you the basics you need to know to start. And, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah?”

Jackson’s eyes soften. “I don’t want Mark to know anything about this, okay? You’ll understand better when you hear the story.”

“Of course.” You thumb at a loose thread along the seam of your pillowcase before shaking your head toward the ghost, “Before you go, can you at least tell me who killed you?”

“Like I told you, it’s complicated…” He sighs, “But if you have to know, the Prime Two had a hand in my death… specifically Jaebeom.”

You don’t know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the name of the ancient hybrid. Still, it surprises you, and it doesn’t. Given the tension all between Mark, the pack, and Jinyoung and Jaebeom, it actually kind of makes sense. But what about the conflict that Changbin hinted at? Or Jaebeom’s bitterness with Mark? What has everyone been keeping from you?

So many puzzles pieces, yet no clue how to fit them together.

“I have to go now, but I’ll come to you as soon as I can.” Jackson’s urge brings you back to reality. “Just do what I said and get as much info as you can, okay?”

You nod. “I’m on it. See you soon, I guess?”

Jackson smiles again. “See you soon, (Y/N).”

You open your mouth to say something further, but in the literal blink of an eye, Jackson is gone. Just vanished into thin air. If you didn’t know any better, you swear you hallucinated the entire conversation… but after all you’ve witnessed in Moon Dye Bay, you do unfortunately know better.

With a groan, you fall back into your pillows, although the exhaustion from before is long gone. You doubt you’ll be able to fall asleep anytime soon, so you rise from your bed and set out to clean up the broken pieces of the mug you threw at Jackson only minutes before.

Guess having tea before bed comes in handy sometimes.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Steam wafts through the tiled bathroom, gathering in a blanket of fog along the glass walls of the shower. Jaebeom releases a sigh of relief as the hot water beats against his bare back and shoulders, massaging the tension from his muscles and soaking the rest of his naked body. To gain better access to the stream, he leans forward and presses his hands against the fogged glass for support. Less he wants to slip and fall.

Jaebeom peers down to watch the water spill down the drain, tinted red from the blood decorating his skin—Jinyoung’s blood, to be more specific. His mind immediately rushes back to the memory of his brother calling out for help in such agony and pain. He wanted to ignore it. He tried not to care. But then Jinyoung called out his name… what else was he supposed to do?

Jinyoung deserved a lesson for getting involved in witch business again, but Jaebeom couldn’t just sit back and let him suffer through the hallucinations of their hell of a childhood. He curses himself for giving into such weakness and angrily scrubs away the patch of dried blood on his forearm.

Maybe if you hadn’t looked at him with those bright, horrified eyes of yours after he left the room… then maybe his inhumanity could have won the battle over his sanity.

Jaebeom continues to clean himself as his thoughts wander like the steam of the shower. Jinyoung’s fever broke earlier, so he should sleep much more soundly for the next few hours or so. His body will need time to heal, more so because of his stupid, anti-human diet. Maybe Jaebeom will be able to finally convince the pretentious prick to hunt with him after all these years. Or at the very least, drink from a blood bag.

A faint noise that sounds vaguely like footsteps awakens Jaebeom from his shower-thought reverie. He squints through the shower door, trying to see past the curtain of steam. The bathroom is vacant save for the blurred image of his own reflection. Even so, something still proceeds to urk at Jaebeom’s senses, like an itch he can’t scratch.

There’s someone here.

It only takes milliseconds for Jaebeom to corner the figure that sneakily crept inside the shower with him and press them against the tiled wall. A little, feminine giggle emerges from the intruder as the hybrid cages them between his arms and broad chest. His nerves immediately calm at the devious face that stares back at him, instead earning a loud sigh of annoyance.

“You’re lucky I didn’t rip your fucking head off.”

“Mhm. I know how… rough you like to be.”

Jaebeom provides the female an unamused expression. “What are you doing here, Tzuyu?”

“Come on. I know you’re happy to see me.” Tzuyu flashes Jaebeom a radiant smile that resembles one of a temptress. Because of their position underneath the showerhead, her dark brown hair is already soaked. He also quickly realizes that she is just as naked as him. “I can’t just drop by and see my most favorite person in the world?”

“You and I both know that’s a lie.”

Tzuyu smirks. “That you’re my favorite person in the world, or that you’re happy to see me?”

“What do you think?” He begins to pull away from the female vampire, but she stops him with a tight arm around his neck. Before he can blink, Tzuyu’s lips are pressed firmly against his own. Her sweet taste invades his brain like a parasite, and he can’t help but melt into the kiss, hungrily pushing his tongue past the seam of her mouth to find more of her delicacy.

When she pulls back, Jaebeom almost growls. He lowers his hands to tightly grasp her waist before pressing her even further into the wall with his own body. In an effort to make up for the loss, he busies himself by sucking and nibbling along the canvas of her throat. His pride swells when she moans at a particular nip.

“A little eager, aren’t we?” Tzuyu mocks, deviously brushing her knee against Jaebeom’s gradually swelling manhood. His body thrums at the brief contact, quickening his abuse against the patch where her jaw meets her neck.

“You’re the one who interrupted my shower, remember?” He abandons her throat to trail a hand up to her breast, roughly pinching at her taut nipple and smirking at the low groan that bubbles in her chest. “If anyone’s desperate here, it’s you.”

“Touche.” The vampire arches her back more into Jaebeom’s alluring touch. The hybrid welcomes the newfound access, dipping his head down to take one of her buds past his lips. Tzuyu releases a faint whimper before burying her fingers in his wet locks. When she harshly tugs against his scalp, Jaebeom responds with a warning growl.

He detaches from her nipple and chuckles darkly, “We also know that you are the one that likes it rough.”

“Maybe I do.” Tzuyu’s smile is dangerous. “So what’s the big, bad hybrid gonna do with a helpless damsel like me?”

Jaebeom relishes the squeal of surprise that flies from her lips as he lifts her body in the air, tying her legs around his waist with a smirk. “I can think of a couple things…”

Just as soon as the words are spoken, the muffled ring of the doorbell distracts Jaebeom from his lustful rendezvous. He releases a frustrated groan, carefully lowers Tzuyu back to the floor, then shuts off the water. The vampire follows him as he exits the shower, watching intensely as he towels off and slips into a loose pair of sweatpants.

“Stay here.” Jaebeom says before taking off, quickly making his way through his bedroom, downstairs until he reaches the front door. Shaking out his still rather wet hair, he opens the door, prepared to tear apart whoever interrupted his moment.

However, all his anger vanishes into thin air at the visitor on his doorstep.

His eyes widen to saucers. “(Y/N)?”

“Jaebeom.” The animosity along your features falters when you notice his bare chest. You clear your throat before locking your gaze with his own. “How’s Jinyoung?”

Jaebeom’s mood deflates. You’re here for Jinyoung. Not him.

“The worst is over.” He replies truthfully, “He should be back to full health in the next few hours or so.”

“I’m sure he could have been better a lot sooner, but whatever, right?” Jaebeom decides not to drop the fact that he actually did heal Jinyoung. Besides, even if he wanted to, your voice would have beaten him to it, “Anyway, I’m here because I need to know what happened to J…” Confusion invades his veins when your voice suddenly cuts out. He notices your gaze on something over his shoulder, internally cursing himself for already knowing what it is.

“Who’s this pretty, little thing?” Tzuyu sidles up beside Jaebeom, eyeing your speechless form from head to toe. Her hand slithers to lazily rest on his tricep, but the hybrid can spot a symbolism of claim anywhere. And judging by the strange look in your eyes, so can you.

“I thought I told you to stay upstairs.”

“And miss meeting your human pet? How could I ever?”

Jaebeom shoots the vampire a warning look. Tzuyu innocently bats her eyes.

“I was actually just leaving.” You say, tearing Jaebeom’s attention away from his devious companion. He wants to say something further, maybe ask you to stay a little longer, but you’re already tugging your bag further over your shoulder and backing away from the door. “Tell Jinyoung that I hope he feels better, ‘kay?”

Jaebeom shakes his head. “Sure, but (Y/N)—”

You’re already walking away before he has the chance to finish his sentence. Jaebeom watches your form until it disappears inside a car, and even then, he watches the car until it drives past the entrance gate of the estate and out of sight. A strange, empty feeling remains in his chest, as well as the beginnings of annoyance and rage.

Tzuyu leans forward to litter light pecks across his bare shoulder. “Should we… get back to where we left off?”

Jaebeom slams the front door shut with a pound before pushing past the vampire without so much as a response. Tzuyu’s sigh follows him as he makes his way into the living room where he heads straight for the liquor table. He begins to pour himself a drink while Tzuyu situates herself against the doorway. Even with his back to her, he can feel her piercing gaze staring into his soul.

“She seemed nice… (Y/N), was it?”

Jaebeom downs his first glass of bourbon before shaking his head, “Drop it, Tzuyu.”

“So I’m not allowed to learn about your other girlfriends? Though I have to say, I’m surprised you’d ever go for a human.”

“It’s not like that.” He answers, glaring at the pouting vampire from over his shoulder. “She’s a friend of Jinyoung. We’ve only met like twice.”

Tzuyu smiles. This time it doesn’t spark arousal through Jaebeom’s body. It strikes fear.

“I saw the way you looked at her, Beomie… I wasn’t lying when I said she’s a pretty thing.”

Her tone of voice sends warning bells through his chest.

Jaebeom hisses darkly, “Stay the fuck away from her, Tzuyu. I mean it.”

“I would never lay on hand on your fragile human, Beom.” Something about the way her eyes gleam leaves an uneasy feeling stirring through his chest. That, and the way she looks down to check her nails with a sinister smirk. “Though I’m sure it would be so easy to cut out that sweet tongue of her—”

“Tzuyu—”

“Just kidding.” The vampire leaps from her perch against the doorway to steal the drink from Jaebeom’s hand. He watches her warily as she skips toward the window, staring out on the estate courtyards as she sips at the alcohol. Though her back is turned, Jaebeom can practically feel the cogs turning inside her head.

He only hopes she keeps true to her words. For your sake.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The purr of the car engine blends with the hum of your cell phone receiver. With each ring that passes, the trees outside the window grow more and more abundant while the hope within your heart only becomes less and less. You sigh when the familiar monotone message clicks across the line. For a moment, you debate on whether or not to leave yet another voicemail… It’s not like she’s answered the dozens you’ve already recorded before.

The little hope that remains outweighs your logic. “Hey. It’s (Y/N) again. I don’t know if you’re not getting my messages or just ignoring me, but… I’m really worried about you, Jihyo.” You bite your lip, readjusting your grip on the steering wheel before steering the vehicle onto another branching, dirt road.

“Sana was really shaken up last night and things are just kind of screwed up right now—for fucksake, Ji, please just pick up your goddamn phone and call me!” You end the call with a lot more force than necessary, tossing your phone into your open bag resting on the passenger’s seat. In order to calm the frustration bubbling through your veins, you focus your attention on the winding road ahead.

After somehow managing to acquire the location of the werewolf pack’s hangout from Bambam, Sana agreed to lend you her car. She needs some time to cope, especially with Momo and Mina’s “sudden disappearance”, so she’s taking the next couple of days away from work at Moon Dye Bay’s local cafe.

You thought it would be wise not to drop the real bomb about her high school friends when she was already wrecked over Jihyo’s walk-out, and while you hate lying… what choice do you have? If you tell Sana the truth, then you’d have to also tell her how and why Momo and Mina died. And with that, you’d have to tell her about the bay’s secret society of witches, werewolves, vampires, etc.

Disgust filters through your body as you’re reminded of your less than awkward visit at the Project Estate. The fact that Jaebeom is able to fuck one out of probably very many of his pretty call-girls while his best friend endures the worst of all sicknesses right down the hall just rubs you all the wrong ways. Maybe that whole speech about his humanity from Jinyoung was one big hoax to get you to feel sorry for him, but you refuse to do so.

You also refuse to linger on how that woman you saw with Jaebeom was one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen… and how it settles an uncomfortable pit in the depths of your gut.

At the sight of the cabin, you push all thoughts from mind and maneuver the car to pull up in front of the large residence. It surprises you how abandoned and poorly-taken care of the outside of the cabin is, considering Bam said that everyone in the pack basically lives here. Then again, if one of your closest friends and packmate was killed out of the blue, you wouldn’t care much about appearances either.

After cutting out the engine and grabbing your bag, you exit the vehicle. Bird songs and the buzzing of mosquitoes welcome you as you make your way up to the front door. You almost trip over a loose board on the cabin’s wraparound deck, but you manage to catch yourself before you slam nose first into the wooden ground. Just as you’re about to lift your hand and rap your knuckles against the door, a familiar voice seizes your attention:

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Dahyun emerges from around the side of the cabin, carrying a homemade, woven basket full of wet laundry. With a hand on her hip and a raise of her eyebrow, she continues, “You’re the last person I expected to see today… Did Mark send you?”

“No, no.” You shake your head, “I was actually hoping to talk to Chan, or maybe Yugyeom about something?”

Dahyun offers a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, hun. Everyone’s out today except me and some of the youngsters.” She pauses to support the basket against her hip. “Is there anything I can help you with? If you’d like, we can talk while I take care of these clothes?”

“That would be great actually.” You agree, returning Dahyun’s bright smile with a weak grin of your own. The werewolf nods and gestures for you to follow her with her free hand, which you do so without any complaint.

Once you turn the corner, your jaw almost drops at the sight of the backyard. Unlike the front of the cabin, which looks so unkempt and depressing, the back is the total opposite. It almost reminds you of a mini oasis, with the tiny pond full of flowered lily pads and the bushes of vivid, flourishing roses. Twinkling fairy lights hang from branches of trees, and you can only imagine how pretty it would appear at night.

You and Dahyun pass a couple of other strangers playing Uno at one of the few picnic tables stationed around the massive yard. One of them, a young dirty-blonde teen, looks up as you walk by and offers a kind smile, which you can’t resist to return.

Dahyun hums, “That’s Felix. Chan’s little brother.”

“Really? I didn’t know he had a brother.”

You take a seat on a mossy tree stump, watching as Dahyun sets down her basket and begins to hang the wet laundry along an already prepared clothesline. After staring for a few moments, you climb back to your feet and move to help the werewolf.

She grants you a grateful smile and shrugs, “Most don’t. Felix hasn’t triggered his gene yet.”

“His gene?” You repeat, pinning a large, black T-shirt onto the line.

“Oh right. You probably don’t know much about wolves yet.” Dahyun peels open a moist towel and continues, “Basically, we’re born with this gene that has to be ‘triggered’ in order for us to activate our werewolf abilities.”

“So the whole werewolf bite or scratch thing is a myth?”

“One hundred percent bullshit.” She laughs.

You chuckle as well, before inquiring further, “How do you trigger it?”

Dahyun’s laughter immediately cuts out. Thinking you said something wrong, you open your mouth to reconcile, but the wolf beats you to it. Her tone nowhere near as light-hearted as before:

“You have to… kill someone.”

Your stomach twists, butterflies of revulsion fluttering all the way up to your chest. You notice how Dahyun no longer tries to meet your eyes, instead fully investing her attention in wringing out the dripping wet mass of fabric before pinning the corners to the line.

“It’s usually an accident for most of us though.” She shrugs with a faraway expression, “Sometimes we just lose control of our emotions and things get out of hand… then somebody ends up dead, and you turn the next full moon. Whether you meant to or not.”

You reach over to place a comforting hand on her elbow. “I’m so sorry… That sounds horrible.”

“It’s just the world we live in.” Dahyun seems to snap out of her traumatized state and throws a slightly awkward smile in your direction, “Anyway, once your gene is triggered, you turn into a wolf every full moon for the rest of your life.”

“Do you have control when you turn?”

“Not exactly. Our werewolf form is like a totally different part of us.”

You nod in understanding. At her guidance, you begin to take down the clothes that had dried beforehand while she finishes hanging the last of the remaining laundry. Once the last garment is pinned to the clothesline, the werewolf takes a seat in the grass and moves to begin folding the dry batch. You do the same.

“Now with all that aside, what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh. Right.” You bite your lip, trying to come up with the best way to bring up a dead Jackson without striking a personal chord. After a moment of silence, Dahyun must notice your apprehension, as she drops the socks in her hands and leans forward to lightly pat at your calf with a patient smile.

Her kind facial expression alone is enough to evoke a slight wave of bravery from your soul:

“Well, I was wondering about… Jackson Wang.” You say carefully, keeping your eyes on Dahyun’s gradually faltering smile.

The werewolf leans back from you with a heavy sigh before releasing a soft chuckle, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard that name. Though I’m a little surprised… I thought Mark would have told you all about Jackson by now.”

You shake your head.

“Jackson was our first Alpha, before Chan took over. All of this actually belonged to his family—” She pauses to gesture to the cabin. “—but after his parents found out he triggered his curse, they gave it to him so he could have somewhere to get away. Eventually it became a sanctuary for the werewolves of Moon Dye Bay.”

“Mark told me Jackson was his best friend…”

Dahyun nods. “Ever since high school. Mark helped Jackson when he turned the first time, and Jackson was there for Mark when his mother died.”

Your heart warms at the thought of Mark having such a close, supportive relationship with someone. However, that same feeling falters when you remember Jackson’s mysterious, tragic death.

“So how did he die?” You ask quietly, peering over Dahyun’s shoulder to check the state of the other inhabitants in the backyard. Felix and his other friends are still engaged in their rather intense card game and are paying no mind to you nor Dahyun. The information lessens your anxiety, though only slightly.

You return your focus to your companion when she tosses a wrinkled shirt back inside the basket with a bitter glare. “The Primes killed him.”

“But why?” Dahyun turns at your inquiry. “There had to have been a reason? Right?”

“When the Primes first came back to town, about four years ago, Mark and Jackson came up with a plan to try to kill their ancient asses once and for all.”

“How? They’re invincible?”

“Mark was going to gather enough power to break the immortality curse that makes them untouchable.” She answers, “Once Mark took out their safeguard, Jackson would drive a stake through each of their hearts.”

You frown. “I’m guessing that didn’t go as planned?”

“Mark couldn’t get the magic in time, but Jackson was never one to back down from a fight.”

“What do you mean?”

Dahyun rolls her eyes. “Jackson was one of the best people I will ever know, but his ambition always went to that big-ass head of his. That night, he was going to kill the Prime Two or he was going to die trying…”

“So you’re saying it was… his fault he died?”

“Yes and no.” She hums with a shrug. “Like I said, Jackson was always that ride or die kind of person. He was passionate and driven, but he was also reckless and stubborn.”

You furrow your brow before leaning back on your palms. Puzzle pieces are slowly starting to fit together, especially concerning Mark and why he blames himself for Jackson’s death, but what doesn’t make sense is why Jackson died in the first place? If Jaebeom and Jinyoung couldn’t be killed then, and still can’t be killed now, what threat is a brash, pig-headed werewolf?... And why would Jackson be so driven to kill the Primes that he’d give up his own life doing so?

Before you can spill your concerns to the waiting werewolf, the buzz of your phone seizes your attention. You retract the device from your bag to check the text message, finding a thread of new messages from Sana, one of which asking when you’re going to return to the apartment. You shoot her a quick answer with a promise to also pick up some dinner before you turn back to Dahyun.

“I should probably get going. I have a couple errands to run before the sun goes down.”

She rises to her feet in synchronization with you. “Of course. I hope I helped at least a little.”

“You helped so much, Dahyun. Really. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.” The werewolf smiles. “It was really nice to see and talk to you, (Y/N). If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to come visit me again.”

“I appreciate that more than you could know.” You lean in to give Dahyun a quick, easy hug before walking with her back toward the front of the cabin. In the midst of approaching Sana’s car, your mind shifts back to another important, yet crazy thought that occurred to you while in conversation with Jackson last night. Without thinking about the consequences, you pause and ask Dahyun one final question:

“Is it… possible to bring someone back from the dead?”

Judging by her tense shoulders and bewildered expression, your abrupt inquiry takes Dahyun by surprise. She merely stares at you with saucer-like eyes and parted lips for a moment, until she seems to regain her composure.

Even then, her words are muddled and full of confusion. “I-I mean, I don’t know anything about witchcraft myself, b-but I think so?” She narrows her eyes. “...Why?”

“Just wondering.” You play off her curiosity by pulling your keys from your bag and opening the driver’s door. With a weak smile and a nod, you bid the werewolf farewell. “Thanks again. I’ll see you around.”

You don’t wait for Dahyun’s response, too worried that she might somehow pick up on the plan slowly building inside your head. Without a second to spare, you switch on the engine, put the vehicle in proper gear and back out of the cabin’s driveway. Dahyun watches from the deck, and though you’re distant from one another, you can feel the intensity of her stare as you maneuver back onto the dirt, forest roads.

Once you’re a decent distance from the cabin, you find your cell phone, pull up a specific contact and balance the device on your shoulder. The line picks up after two rings, and you don’t wait for the usual chime of a greeting. Not when you’re so deep into everything now.

“Bam, I need everything you have on necromancy.” You say into the phone, squeezing the leather cover of the steering wheel in a mixture of anticipation and excitement. “And I also need you to promise not to say a word about this to anyone… Not even Yugyeom.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Changbin is fuming. Absolutely fuming.

It feels like his entire body is made of electricity, coursing through his veins and boiling his blood red-hot. He can’t control the trembling of his hands. Not even when he stuffs them inside the pocket of his hoodie. The urge to break something is strong, but Changbin doesn’t want to break just anything… No—he wants to break someone. Hurt someone.

There was once a time he would have never thought these words. Then again, that was before the Primes came to town, and before Jackson was murdered. Everything changed after that. Everyone changed. When the pretentious, youngest asshole of a bloodsucker showed up to reveal that Jackson’s body couldn’t even be handed over, no one put up a fight. No one stood up for their Alpha. Life just went on, as if nothing had changed.

A hiss sounds through Changbin’s gritted teeth as he thinks back to his most recent argument with Chan and Yugyeom. Neither of them even cared when he told them that Dahyun was the one who came at him first. They didn’t listen… but why would they? Changbin is just the runt with the anger issues, right? Why would anything he have to say matter? Why should they give a damn about his perspective… about his pain?

No one understands how much Changbin misses Jackson, nor do they understand how much anger it brings him that his legacy still goes unavenged. For fucksake, no one is brave enough to say his goddamn name aloud anymore. And even when he’s mentioned, everyone pretends as if there isn’t one giant ass elephant in the room. It makes him sick. Furious.

Changbin is suddenly awoken from his racing thoughts when his shoulder slams into the body of another walking pedestrian. He reels around and regards the hooded stranger with a deep growl, “Watch where you’re fucking going, asshole! Unless you want me to break your fucking arm!”

“That won’t be necessary.” Changbin watches, unamused, as the stranger removes his jacket hood. His face is familiar, he realizes. Changbin feels his anger grow tenfold.

He pulls back his own tattered hood with another growl, “You better have a good fucking reason to be lurking in our territory, witch.”

“I came to talk to you.” The witch remains unphased by the wolf’s aggression, even when the latter stalks closer and closer to his lean form. “I think you’ll like what I have to say.”

“Oh yeah?” Although the male is slightly taller than him, Changbin doesn’t hesitate to get up in his face. “And what makes you think that?”

The witch doesn’t pull away, but merely shrugs. “Because we both want the same thing… Revenge.”

Changbin’s ears perk at that single word. His ferocity falters, prompting him to create distance between his and his companion’s bodies. After tucking his hands back inside his pockets, he doesn’t say a word, but nods for the former to continue.

The witch smirks.

“What would you say if there was a possibility to destroy the Prime Two?”

“I’d say you’re crazy.” The wolf bites his lips, “...but I’d also say I’m the slightest bit interested.”

“And if I told you there was also a possibility of hurting Mark Tuan in the process?”

This time, a mirroring smirk pulls along Changbin’s lips.

“I’d say I’m in.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Are you sure I don’t need to come over there?”

Youngjae rolls his eyes at Mark’s concerned tone, adjusting the phone on his shoulder to better his grip on the thick grimoire in his hands. “No, hyung. Jisung and Lia left hours ago, so it’s just me.”

“I can help you out.”

“I really don’t think I need your help for a plant revival spell.” He glances toward the array of wilting flowers and herbs, before releasing a chuckle into the phone. “Seriously, hyung. Take the time to rest… You had a long day yesterday.”

He can almost see Mark shaking his head over the line. “Trust me, I’m very well-rested. I slept close to sixteen hours last night.”

“Then sleep another sixteen. Satan knows you need it.”

Youngjae sets the grimoire down on the countertop beside a yellowing, potted basil. He lays his hand over the ancient book, feeling the electric rush of magic entering his body through his palm. Once he gathers a satisfactory amount, he removes his hand and instead points toward the dying plant.

“I just… hate not being productive, you know?”

Youngjae watches the leaves of the basil gradually lighten and shift from rotted to fresh, finally answering when the plant stands tall, proud and very, very green:

“You need to give yourself time, Mark-hyung. That’s the most productive thing you can do right now.”

“I… I guess you’re right.” Mark sighs, and even through the phone, Youngjae can pinpoint his friend’s exhaustion. He hums in response and turns to revive a drooping sunflower, making note to move the plant to a perch where it can reach the sunlight.

“By the way, have you heard from (Y/N)?”

“No. Not since last night.” Youngjae answers.

“I texted her this morning and this afternoon, but she hasn’t texted me back.” The siphoner doesn’t respond, focusing on ripening the cherries of the sick miniature fruit tree. “Jihyo apparently left town last night… You don’t think that’s something to be concerned about, right?”

Youngjae shakes his head. “She was probably spooked by an ex-boyfriend or something. And I’m sure (Y/N) is busy at the university. You know how hard she works.”

“Yeah, I know. I just wish she would at least text me back.”

“She probably needs time to process too, hyung.” He reasons with the head witch, glancing toward the front of the mausoleum when the knock sounds from the door. “I gotta go, but I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

Mark hums in agreement. “Thanks, Youngjae.”

“Mhm. Get some more sleep.” Knowing Mark would retaliate with his command, Youngjae hangs up the phone before he can respond. The siphoner mumbles a quick illusion spell to hide any evidence of witchcraft to the mortal eye, then heads toward the front door, unsure of who would be visiting the mausoleum this late in the evening.

Who Youngjae certainly doesn’t expect to see behind the door is you, standing outside with a large mass of books cradled within your arms.

Youngjae’s eyes widen when he notices one of the titles of the books, as well as the flames of determination burning inside your eyes. He parts his lips to inquire further, but you beat him to it… and your words nearly knock all the air from his lungs:

“I need your help to bring Jackson Wang back from the dead.”

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