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svchengss · 3 years

Text

hey barista! | l.dh

summary | befriending the barista from your local cafe doesn’t seem too bad

pairing | lee donghyuck x fem!reader ft. jaemin who’s a rlly cute side character in this :(

genre | fluff, angst, slight humour (?)

warnings | a kiss?? i don’t think there’s any but if i missed anything do lmk !!

word count | 3k+

s. tg | @hyuckefi [my apologies since i didn’t release a proper teaser for this 🙏🏻]

author’s note | this is my first fic exceeding 1k words so if u enjoyed reading this, please leave some feedbacks !! rb’s are also appreciated :D ALSO I SUCK AT SUMMARIES LMAO PLS IGNORE THAT

just another day of working at palm coffee, the same old routine. cleaning the countertop and tables before opening up the cafe, prepping the ingredients - more for top favourites! - and examining the machines to make sure they’re working properly. that’s some of hyuck’s daily routines as a barista. he didn’t mind them though, he loved his job. he couldn’t specify the reason why but all these tasks are genuinely interesting to him.

seeing you drop by the cafe is a normal occurrence for him. since you are a regular customer after all, the rest of the staff already know you well. heck, they’re even good friends with you. jaemin hangs out with you more than he does despite being jaemin’s childhood friend. except for him, he doesn’t really know why. he’s not really shy, considering the fact that he’s a social butterfly. he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you, the only times he did so was to take your orders when the rest of the workers were busy in the store.

upon hearing the doorbell chime which signals a new customer entering the cafe, hyuck blurted out the usual line. “hello, welcome to palm coffee! how can i help-“, looking up from the cash register only to find you in a disheveled state. “-you?” he eyes you up and down, noting how a few strands of your hair were out of place, the nude lipstick smeared on the left corner of your mouth and your outfit looks really rushed.

“sorry, what was your name again, hyuck right?” you quickly glanced at the nametag hanging nicely on his apron. “i’m in a rush right now, can i get a,” you scanned over the menu behind him, “uh, white coffee, please?”.

“that will be six dollars. you can use the restroom in the meantime to, you know, touch up your makeup and stuff,” he takes the bills from your hand, putting them in the machine in front of him before flashing you with that warm smile of his. you wished him a quick thanks before disappearing into the back of the place.

now that was embarrassing.

your eyes scanned over the hall to find your friend before hearing her shout your name from across. damn, why does she have to be so loud? stares were directed towards you as you walked up the stairs to your designated seat. all the chatter going on in the lecture hall became quiet as soon as your professor placed her things on the desk, which means class has started.

after hearing a two-hour lecture and writing some notes - where suddenly song lyrics and scribbles appear - the words you’ve been waiting to hear finally echoed through the speakers.

“class is dismissed, thank you everyone for listening,” mrs. hui’s voice later being flushed out by the buzzing voices of the students walking out the hall, determined to finish their own activities. you stuffed your ipad and papers into your light yellow jansport backpack before going out to meet vic who’s waiting for you outside.

“i’m exhausted, what did she even teach just now?” vic sighed to her heart’s content. you can’t blame her, today’s topic was quite complicated. circuits analysis or something? you can’t really wrap your head around it, your brain being stuffed with all the information. vic kept on ranting about the problems she faced from the moment she woke up, making you giggle at some comments she made.

“wait for me, i’m almost done,” he folded his apron neatly before shoving it into the drawer and grabbing his bag from the counter to join jaemin, who’s waiting at the front door with the keycard. hyuck accepted jaemin’s request to help him with some shopping for his sister’s birthday party next week. obviously, the rest of the staff were also invited.

jaemin divided the shopping list into two, allowing hyuck to find the rest of the things with ease.

“now where are the streamers…” he muttered out loud enough for himself to hear, crouching down to browse through the party decorations on the shelf. or he thought so, as you could hear him sighing clearly in dire need of the certain decoration, that you decided to help him out.

“um, hyuck? i think the party streamers are in the aisle beside this one? you look a bit troubled there,” you chuckled lightly. the heat flushed to his cheeks, feeling dumbfounded.

“really? uh, thank you for the help,” he gave you a small grin that could hardly be seen if you didn’t spot the corner of his lips. and with that, he’s long gone with his shopping basket.

you are fond of the atmosphere you’re in right now. the decorations left you in awe - white and pink silk hanging from the wall with silver letter balloons spelling out happy birthday stitched onto them. you can see jaemin’s sister, eun-ji, being carried out of her room with a small flowy white dress and wearing a golden bow on her head, her brunette hair being tied into ponytails. the na family really adore their youngest girl.

meanwhile, there are only a couple of adults your age attending the party - jaemin’s co-workers, some of his other friends which you aren’t familiar with and hyuck. he looked rather chill, with an oversized beige sweater and white jeans to suit the party’s theme. you’re not quite bad as well, your hair combed nicely and kept neat with a headband, a white sundress with strawberry patterns on it fit nicely on your figure, complemented with a heart-locket necklace placed on your collarbones. before reaching jaemin’s house, you made sure to drop by a local store to get some gifts for eun-ji. she’s a very well-mannered kid which made you adore her very much.

“y/n? very glad to see you here,” hyuck said as he approached you, offering you a plate of cake which he cut.

“i could say the same to you too, mr. lee,” you let out a soft laugh. he made sure to keep a mental note over how pretty you looked today.

“y/n, hyuck! glad you two broke the ice, did you know how hurt i was seeing you two act like strangers whenever y/n came by the cafe?” jaemin enveloping you into a small hug before fake pouting. you can only laugh at the fake debate the two guys in front of you were having. after conversing with hyuck and jaemin for quite some time, you realised that he’s a cool person to talk to, where all this time, you thought he hated you for some reason. before leaving, you made sure to thank mrs. na for hosting the party and off you went home.

following the previous encounters, hyuck felt much more comfortable around you - even hanging out with you during his shift where you would do your assignments at the cafe he’s working at. every now and then, he would also invite you to hang out with him and jaemin. however, what he didn’t realise was how he slowly pent up feelings - romantically.

ding dong!

he pressed on the doorbell button with a box of doughnuts in his left hand. the three of you were supposed to be having a movie night, but jaemin got caught up with his groupwork which leaves the two of you alone.

“hey hyuck! come in,” you gestured, arranging the cushions on your sofa to make it look more organized. the interior of your rented apartment is calming, the light grey walls suiting the navy blue sofa and furniture with darker undertones. the walls are also not left empty, with modern art portraits hanging from it.

“i brought donuts, your favourite, right?” he opened the box, placing it on the coffee table while you set up the television. you wished him a quick thank you before grabbing two canned drinks from the refrigerator, handing one to him and pressing play on the remote control. you two weren’t quiet throughout the whole movie, with snarky comments on how hot the actors were or how stupid they were being were made.

he didn’t know you were sleepy though as all of a sudden, he could feel the weight of your head on top of his shoulder. it was a rather awkward situation as he didn’t move at all so you could sleep comfortably. before long, he joined you and dozed off to wonderland. the next morning, you were more than embarrassed to find yourself cuddling up to him, with the next movie still playing on the screen.

seeing your figure outside the front door made hyuck more excited to greet you today. after making a quick order for a green tea latte, you fished out your purse from your handbag, feeling frantic if you’ve lost it outside. luckily, you were the only customer in line as the rest of them were already seated and carrying out their own businesses.

“sorry, but i think this might be yours,” you turned around to find a tall-looking guy handing out your black purse. a wave of relief washed over your soul, thanking the latter profusely.

“mind if i buy you a drink? i hate feeling like i owe someone,” you offered, which he gladly accepted.

“i’d like a double espresso, please,” he kept his hands into his pockets.

“and your name, sir?” hyuck looked mildly bothered.

“yukhei,” he ran his slightly blonde hair through the slender fingers. hyuck hated how cocky he looked, feeling more annoyed than ever over the scene that was played in front of him just now. he hated how yukhei looked at you.

why should he get jealous? he’s just a mere friend to you, that’s all. you have to stop overreacting, hyuck.

those words kept running through his mind all day.

“dude, are you okay? you looked-” jaemin opened the staff room, interrupting him from the self-talk he was having, “-distracted,” finishing up his sentence.

“nope, i’m just fine,” he said, bringing the honey smile back onto his face. jaemin nodded before disappearing back to the front to serve the customers.

stop being so jealous, hyuck. you’re just a friend. not more, not less.

“jaemin, how do you know if you like someone?” that question is kind of shocking to him, especially if it’s coming from hyuck. of course, he’s had a crush before but it was during middle school. just a silly, little crush. growing up, he’s never had one - not even in high school.

“you’ve asked the right person,” jaemin managed to do his obnoxious voice, even while driving the car. he’s right, he is the matchmaker of the friend group, just how many relationships worked out because of him? eyes still focused on the road - he’s a responsible driver of course, he began to explain the feeling to hyuck, making his points loud and clear.

“first of all, you start feeling a little too happy whenever you’re around them. and no, this is not the oh-we’re-best-friends-forever type of happy, it’s the i’ll-make-you-the-happiest-person-on-earth one. not to forget, you will also experience some kind of turbulence in your heart, expect them to be jumping around a bit. or a lot, whichever suits you the best.

you also tend to feel nervous around that person. like, stuttering your words in obvious or non-obvious ways, feeling faster heartbeats than usual, you name it. oh! if you’ve ever felt jealous whenever they are around someone else, i mean, in affectionate ways, you might have one. however, my tip is for you not to act out of your mind. you don’t want to ruin whatever relationship you have currently, do you?” even when driving, he still managed to deliver his points with full precision and accuracy.

nodding his head, hyuck took some mental notes to be thought through when he gets home.

hyuck stared at you, whose figure is snoring soundly on his lap. he assumed you must be feeling exhausted, mid-terms just ended after all. while threading his fingers through your hair, he remembered what jaemin said to him weeks earlier.

1. being happy around them

like jaemin said, it is normal to be happy around your friends. but being with you, it kind of gave more joy for him. not to mention that he started to catch himself smiling over your texts and being reminded of you over small things - your favorite donut topping, the name of that one stray puppy you gave.

2. feeling nervous around them

his heart would beat a lot faster whenever you get closer towards him, whether accidentally or to mess with him.

3. getting jealous over someone else

he shouldn’t be jealous of how yukhei looked at you. but he seriously can’t help it. and the way he’s always there during your hangouts. he doesn’t care if he seems petty, yukhei just isn’t in his favour.

his deep thoughts came to a halt when you called out his name, eyes still half-closed, attempting to open them a bit more.

“did i interrupt you or something? gosh, i’m so sorry,” you quickly stood up but he pulls your body back onto his lap, asking for you to stay.

“what are we?” that question caught you off-guard. the same one that has been at debate in the back of your mind these days.

i don’t know hyuck, it’s complicated.

“what do you think we are, hyuck?” you shot the question back at him, your gaze piercing through his soul.

“i don’t know. it’s just-”

“are you sure?” a deep sigh left your lips. have you been interpreting his body languages wrong? did he only see you as a normal friend, nothing more?

“sorry, i’m not feeling well. see you later hyuck, bye,” you tried your best to shoot the sweet smile of yours but only a faint one seemed to appear. once you stepped out of the room, he buried his face into his hands.

god, what have i done?

“don’t feel too down, y/n. maybe there’s something more that he couldn’t bring himself to say?” vic suggested, handing you some tissue.

“i don’t know, i seriously have no idea. why can’t he just say it?” you continued to sob into her arms, she pitied you, especially in your condition right now. but she can’t do anything to help you, other than consoling and listening.

jaemin knew something was wrong, from your rare visits to the cafe to hyuck not being himself lately. something was definitely wrong and it’s between the both of you. sure, hyuck might be saying that he’s fine again and again, but his expressions can’t lie. the sweet smile of his is long gone and his jokes are no longer heard. whatever it is, jaemin is determined to solve it. he just wants his best friends back.

looks of dismay can be read all over hyuck’s face when the person facing him is no other than the guy himself, yukhei. still, he tried to control his composure, not making his inner feelings any more obvious.

“so what brings you here?” he took a sip of the mineral water, still making his throat rough from the tension hanging in the air.

“look, i’m not here for any fights. i know you like y/n, everybody can see it. and honestly, you were oblivious to your own feelings,” he rubbed his hands together. the latter’s puzzled face made him continue his words.

“i’m not trying to make her like me, or whatever you’ve been assuming. sorry if i gave the wrong message but you are the one who should make a move. i can see from the way she looks at you, the feelings are mutual,” he straightened up the denim jacket outside the white shirt wrapping his figure.

letting out a heavy sigh, hyuck’s face begins to soften up. “no, i should be the one who’s sorry. i’ve been such a prick to everyone around me lately, especially you,” he took of the cap from his head, messing up his hair.

“no problem, bro. it’s understandable, i guess. now good luck with her, please treat her well,” the two guys exchanged a fist bump for the problem solved. jaemin leaned his back against the wall, smiling and feeling satisfied.

you called out jaemin’s name but to no avail. he invited you to his apartment but seeing that the lights are out, it’s clear enough that he hasn’t finished whatever he was doing yet. just as you were about to leave, you saw hyuck at the other side of it, both your faces mirroring the same look of confusion.

“so, uh, how have you been doing these days? it’s been a while since we talked,” he chose to break the silence. now, you two were sitting facing each other by the balcony. inhaling the breeze, you paused for a moment before responding to his question.

“i’ve been feeling, not as usual. definitely not happy but not that sad,” you pushed some of the loose hair strands hanging on your forehead behind your ears before asking about his.

“you know what, i’m just going to be direct with you. i, lee donghyuck have been holding feelings for you since i don’t know when. yeah sure, i wasn’t really sure at first about what i was going through. i guess i was just scared of how you would react,” he scratched his ears which are not feeling itchy at all, but rather an attempt to distract himself from the overwhelming emotions deep inside him.

not wanting to waste time any longer, you placed your right hand onto his cheek, standing on the heels of your feet to bring your two lips together. the kiss was short before he pulls you back in for another, this time a more passionate one. he could feel you smile against his lips before enveloping your body into his arms.

“i’ve missed you, you know?” he whispered, his voice tender, directing right into your ears before you replied with how you missed him more. the both of you continued to whisper sweet nothings while embracing each other’s presence.

jaemin looked at the both of you from a distance, his heart swelling with pride.

— another pair of lovers matched, cupid jaemin signing out.

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woozisnoots · 3 years

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hey alex, i'm kind of in need of an emergency request :/ i've not been feeling well at all mentally for the past few weeks and its been eating me out from the inside. it may be symptoms of being burnt but yeah. i was wondering if could you write something with jihoon and him comforting you by taking your mind off the thoughts and distracting you with little things such as talking or showing you what he's working on? the little things can be completely up to you to choose c: - lissa

hi baby 🥺 i’m sorry i know this is late! >< exams has me 🦀 crabby this season but i know how stressed you’ve been lately and i wanted to make sure you got the jihoon you deserve !!! and ofc, i’m always here if you ever need to talk it out with anyone 💓

𝙤𝙣 𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙙𝙖𝙮

° pairing: jihoon x reader ° genre: fluff ° summary: you’re stressed, blessed and jihoon obsessed. ° word count: 1080 ° warning: none! ° a/n: [unedited]

masterlist!

a typical thursday night for you and your boyfriend is as follows: both of you having no where to go but jihoon’s study since it was the only place to provide quiet and facilitate creative freedom. on the far end, jihoon has his eyes glued to the computer screen as he has one hand hovering over the whites of his keyboards while the other grips the fret board of his guitar. while you on the other hand, tap your apple pen on your temple staring at a half blank canvas on your iPad. for legal reasons, sadly, this was all for school.

you swear the idea came to you in the morning but just as the day went on, the picture slowly started to drift away like your will to tolerate the amount of assignments your professors love to give. going into to art school, you would think the semester would fly by doing what you love.

but there’s a line between an occupation and a hobby; and lately, you’re too worn out to know the difference.

you abruptly turn off your iPad, almost slamming the deice hard on the couch. you were done for the day. this sucked. ask any artist, musician, or writer what it’s like to be stuck in a creative block or burned out, if you will. it is anything but a good time, and this was only just the rise. it’s late, you’re tired, and you desperately want to go home and sleep it off.

after relinquishing your anger, you cross your arms over your chest as you slump down onto the cushions, not noticing your boyfriend look over at you.

“everything good over there?” the concern in his voice makes you pout.

“no,” you replied honestly, not putting anything past him. “quite the opposite actually. i’m mentally exhausted. i have no idea what to draw, and even if i do draw literally anything, it’s probably gonna suck donkey ass.” the memory of

“so like, ass ass?” jihoon’s hysterical laugh now fills the room while you take a few seconds to register what he said. finally realizing the joke, you mutter a ‘oh my god’ under your breath before throwing the nearest plushie his direction.

“can you shut the f-” your words are still overpowered by jihoon’s laugh, not bothering to finish your sentence. besides, the sight of him catching the medium sized elephant plushie and hugging it so tight to try and suppress his giggles makes you forget what you were going to say anyways. “you’re real lucky that you’re cute as hell.”

“not as cute as you and your button nose.” you practically roll your eyes out of your sockets at jihoon’s remark, gagging at the sight of him being intentionally adorable. he only does this when he knows you’re upset. you let it pass though, like you always do since you’re one of the only ones he acts cute to.

“well, if you’re not particularly doing anything right at this moment, how about you come over here and help me with this melody?” jihoon rolls his chair out to create a space for you to come over.

“you know i know nothing about music right?” you say doubtfully.

“come on, all you gotta do is choose between these two samples. i have it all set up, you just gotta tell me which one sounds the best” he prompts to you.

eyeing your iPad at your feet, you stick out your tongue in annoyance. well, it’s not like he was wrong. you definitely weren’t revisiting your assignment for awhile. but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t add a little bit of fun in the mix.

“and what’s in it for me?” the palm of your hands find the edge of your jawline, patiently waiting for your boyfriend’s answer. he’s always quick to find the catch to your antics, it’s just a matter of what he’s willing to offer.

“let’s see,” he says as he mimics your position with his elbow resting on his desk and his hand meeting his cheek. “a free ride back at our place, food on the way there, and…”

he rolls his eyes to the ceiling, displaying a full face of concentration. all his options sound deliciously appealing, but you need something more to cure the never ending trauma that dawns over you so the obvious solution is purposely wait a little longer to see how far he’ll go for you.

“a back massage? and extra kisses?” jihoon finally concludes.

“in addition to you cleaning up the laundry on your side of the bedroom,” you add, proudly smiling.

“deal.” with that confirmation, you gladly prance over to stand beside jihoon, letting your hands press against the desk to support your stance.

jihoon, however, stares at you with a look of immense confusion. “what are you doing? i have a spot reserved just for you.”

now, there are technically only two available places to seat at his studio. granted, it is a snug studio to begin with but you can make room if you’re creative; unfortunately, yours was running out at the moment. there’s a single sofa, essentially for you to fully stretch out your limbs as you worked, and a single wheely chair for himself.

but this time, your boyfriend apparently wasn’t about to let you uncomfortably lounge around on your feet even for a second. no, he thinks his lap is a much more comfortable place.

“i lied, i’m almost done with the song. i just wanted you near me,” he whispers near your ear as he securely wraps his hands around your waist.

your usual self would have made a snarky comment at his sneakiness, but his attempts to make you feel better prevail and you lean your head to the side to meet jihoon’s.

“well now you get kisses to go with it,” you turn your head slightly to face him, cuffing both his cheeks so you can clearly see the array of brown shades in his eyes. ones that could take you away for hours on end and make you feel like you never left reality.

your face relaxes as you feel the warmth of jihoon’s hand gently placed on top of yours. what started off as a bad night, the thought slowly dissolves from your mind the longer this moment lasts. and with a delicate kiss to seal your boyfriend’s lips, you move on. thankfully, with life in your favor and jihoon by your side.

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #woozi #woozi fluff #caratwritersclub #jihoon #jihoon fluff #seventeen fanfic #woozi fanfic #seventeen scenario #woozi scenarios #seventeen imagine #woozi imagines #seventeen au #woozi au #seventeen x reader

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

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here is a part 2 of my valentine’s day one-shot from the other day!! part 3 of them actually celebrating is coming fri, but wanted to make it a lil countdown:) also big creds to @udontfuckangie for their post about ian getting mickey stargazer lilies for valentines bc it… truly made me feel so many things and i had to write this

Ian didn’t really remember ever celebrating Valentine’s Day for real— not like everyone else in middle school or high school, like when Lip was off buying flowers for girls or Mandy was trying to get the guy she liked to ask her out— but he definitely remembered celebrating it as a kid, when he’d have to scrounge up some shoebox from under his bed and bring it to his overcrowded classroom to cover with colorful construction paper and make shitty valentines to swap with his friends. Those were the days when Frank was around some, and so was Monica— he remembered one year, when he was maybe 5 or 6, when Monica was there and he had come home with a thin pink slip of paper from his teacher saying that he needed to bring in valentines for his class. Monica had whisked him down the street to the dollar store where they’d ransacked the rickety shelves of all the art supplies they could carry, and then they sat at the kitchen table for hours gluing glitter to cut-out hearts.

So maybe that’s why Ian’s heart had melted last Sunday, when Franny had mentioned that she needed to buy valentines for her class at school— Ian knew it was stupid, or whatever, but he knew how far a few solid childhood memories could go in this neighborhood, how those types of moments were the stuff you lived on for years afterwards when things got harder and darker. So while he’d been caught up in so much shit lately, for a couple of hours on that Sunday afternoon all Ian wanted was for Franny to soak up that feeling like a sponge—to make memories with her like the good ones that he’d had with Monica, the ones that stood out and burned in his chest like a hot branding iron when he remembered them.

And then a yawning, sleep-soft Mickey had stumbled into the kitchen, and the three of them were nestled beside each other at the table doing fucking arts and crafts; and for some reason it made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and got him thinking about how fuck it, he wanted to give Mickey a Valentine’s Day this year— not in the weird, heteronormative bullshit way, but in the way that he could just kind of… show Mickey how much he meant to him, how Mickey still made his heart feel like it was going to explode out of his ribcage even after the years they’d been together. This was the longest time that he and Mickey had ever been together consecutively, the longest time they’d slept side by side before something dark curled its fingers around them and pulled them apart, and he wanted to do something to acknowledge that— something to start their forever, as fucking cheesy as that sounded.

Of course, Mickey had no concept of Valentine’s Day or any of that shit, which made the whole thing all the more perfect— Ian wanted to catch him off guard, wanted to pull them both out of the funk that had been hovering over them for the months after the wedding, when everything turned brittle and stale once the bills started to pile up. They were better now—or at least they were trying to be— but it still meant something that half of their time being married had been spent navigating a fucking global pandemic and squabbling with each other and barely making ends meet.

So now it was the day before Valentine’s Day, and Ian was standing on a busy Chicago street corner in the bitter cold, watching the bundled passersby briskly walk by to scramble inside and stave off the chill. Ian hadn’t been to this neighborhood since his days working at the club, or maybe once or twice when he was hanging out with people from the youth center; the pristine glass storefronts with minimalist displays nearly blinded Ian’s eyes after the past ten months of being accustomed to the crumbling paint-chipped architecture of the South Side. But he was here on a mission; in front of him stood the high-end, boujee as fuck florist’s shop, one of the top-rated ones in the city according to the quick search he’d plugged into his phone.

Ian normally didn’t give a shit about stuff like this— to him, a flower was a flower, and a chair for a wedding was just a goddamn chair— but he knew Mickey, for some reason this sappy shit was a whole lot more important to him, no matter how hard Mickey tried to hide it. All the symbols and the fanfare meant something to Mickey—it meant that they’d made it, that they got to have a normal fucking life together, beyond both of their wildest dreams. So if Ian had to brave a stupid, gentrifying flower shop on a chilly Friday afternoon to make Mickey happy, then that was what he was going to do.

A soft bell tinkled as Ian entered the shop, immediately surrounded by the nearly-bare shelves of minimalist bouquets. The store was incredibly cramped and narrow, with overly-peppy music playing low, and was packed tight with wire-rimmed glasses wearing, re-usable bag toting hipsters standing in a line all the way to the counter. Shit. This line was going to take all day—and who the fuck knew if they even had what Ian was looking for? A looming pang of desperation started to churn in the pit of his stomach as he lurked by the doorway. Fuck it, he had to do this.

Before Ian really processed what he was doing he was quickly darting past the line, getting a series of dirty looks from everyone he shuffled by.

“S’cuse me, coming through, floral emergency.”

Finally, he reached the counter, sliding in beside some girl in her mid-twenties with a punk haircut. “Uh, sorry, can I just ask if they have what I’m looking for real quick?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “If you’re desperate enough to cut the fucking line, I’d say you’re worse off than I am. Men are fucking clueless.”

Ian nearly grimaced, but tried to twist his face into a soft, grateful smile. “Thank you.” He turned to the cashier at the counter, a dude with a man bun and a floral button-up shirt who looked pretty amused by this whole situation.

“It’s the day before Valentine’s Day, honey. Everyone here is in a floral emergency.” The cashier sighed, looking Ian up and down appraisingly. “What’re you looking for?”

“Uh. I think they’re called… stargazer lilies? The ones that bloom at a specific time, or something? We were supposed to have them at my wedding, but then the venue got burnt down by my husband’s homophobic father, so we kind of had to pull the whole wedding thing together on short notice— it’s kind of a long story, but I really, really need to get these flowers for Valentine’s Day.” Ian leaned in close over the counter, hoping he didn’t look too desperate. “It’s our first one together and it’s been a fucking shitty year and it would just— it would mean a lot.”

Ian finally exhaled, and hoped by some miracle that this cashier, or someone in the fucking universe, would take pity on him.

The cashier pulled his glasses down to the bridge of his nose, tapping away at the iPad on the counter before glancing up. “Hmm. I’m sorry honey, you’re fresh out of luck. Those lilies bloom in the summer mostly, and no one around here really has them. You could maybe check one of the little flower shops down the street, they do special orders and stuff this time of year—but I’ll be honest, I don’t know if you’re gonna get these flowers by tomorrow.”

Ian felt disappointment bubble up inside him. Of fucking course there were none of these obscure flowers in Chicago the day before Valentine’s Day— he’d had this grand idea of giving Mickey a perfect Valentine’s Day, of starting off on the right foot, and he still put this shit off until the last minute and couldn’t give Mickey what he deserved. Mickey would’ve never made this mistake.

Ian cleared his throat. “Shit. Well, uh, thanks anyways.”

He turned, heading for the door and getting ready to be assaulted by the bitter cold again. Okay, there were a couple flower marts down the street, he could try that— but he had a sinking feeling that the results would be the same, that he’d be left empty-handed tomorrow with nothing to give.

Okay. Focus. I’ve gotta plan a bunch of shit for Valentine’s Day by tomorrow.

What would Mickey do?

The flat drone of the dial tone made Mickey’s head buzz, the same dull vibration he’d heard dozens of times that week. Finally, he heard the click of someone answering.

“Hello, this is Sizzlers, how may I help you?”

“Hi, it’s, uh, it’s Mickey Milkovich. Again. I’m just checking in one more time to make sure we’re all good for tomorrow?”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, like the hostess was taking a moment to compose herself. “Yes, Mr. Milkovich. Since this is the… seventh time you’ve checked in in the past week, I believe, everything has definitely been arranged as you requested.”

Mickey cleared his throat. “Uh, good. Thanks. We’ll be there for our reservation at 8.”

He clicked his phone off and flung it down onto the bed. It had been nearly a week since he’d decided he was going to try to give Ian some kind of Valentine’s Day like the normal fucking couple Ian wanted to be, but he had to admit, this shit was hard work; he had to think of the perfect place he wanted them to go, had to call and make a reservation and arrange everything perfectly— and then there was the matter of deciding what to get Ian, because apparently married people also got each other fucking gifts on Valentine’s Day, which sounded like overkill to him. He’d been scrolling through Buzzfeed “Valentine’s Day Gift” lists for the better part of the afternoon, and even snuck some of Debbie’s chick magazines into the bathroom to sift through articles like “Ten Things to Get Your Man for Valentine’s Day” or “Best V-Day Gifts for Newlyweds.” Finally, after fucking days of plans stirring in the back of his mind, Mickey finally thought he had all of the pieces together; the reservation was made, the timing was set, and he’d even stopped by some fancy fucking chocolate shop on the other side of town on the way home from the Alibi earlier that afternoon.

Everything was planned—now there was just one thing left to do.

Mickey grabbed the crumpled piece of paper he’d set on the bedside table, the one he’d been staring at all week. Fuck it. He grabbed a discarded pen from the windowsill, from the collection of pencils that Ian kept next to his notebooks.

Mickey sighed as he put the pen to the paper. Now comes the hard part.

part 1 is here! and part 3 is here!

#this has been such a fun lil distraction this week!!!#actual cute fluffy content coming friday lol #<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ian and mickey

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melaninxateez · 3 years

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the woosan bond-vamp au (.01)

Hi! Thank you so much for reading my first blog post. My main account is @ kmelanin, so :)) Enjoy.

No warnings yet.

At the age of 21, you were quite alone…a lot. You did not really have many friends, except a few from high school who hit you up to catch up over a couple of drinks. You have never dated anyone either, too afraid of commitment or heart break. Which means that you were still a virgin. It did not really matter to you, until anytime you try to date, and they cut you off because you do not want to fuck on the first date. Maybe you were just looking in the wrong area. Maybe you should not be looking at all.

You could not help but blame the way you look. You were on the heavier side, your body shaped more like a pear. Your hips protruded and so did your belly a bit. Your ass was huge and your boobs on the smaller side. And that, that is not what people want. You are trying to get over this insecurity, as it will do nothing for you. Or maybe this is just another excuse to not lose your virginity a move on with someone random. Maybe you are too picky.

When you woke, you grab your phone that started to beep a couple of times. It was a group chat with you and two of your best friends, San and Wooyoung. You do not really remember when you three became so close. But they made sure to keep in contact with you every day. Without you saying anything they always reassure you on how much they love you. You truly did not deserve them.

Wooyoung and San told you a couple of days ago that they were going to be out of town for a couple of days. It threw you off a bit because you have not been apart from them for that long since you first met three years ago. You couldn’t help but to feel a bit depressed because of it, and you hated that.

You hated that you depended on them so much. Its been two days since they left and you didn’t want to bother them on their vacation; or whatever they were doing. You lay in bed and open your phone. You’ve read all of their messages from the past two days, you just didn’t answer. They wondered what you were up to one day and wondering why you weren’t answering the next. They started to get worried and upset yesterday so you made sure to tell them that you’re fine and that you’re just busy. Now you read todays messages,

WOO- I can’t help but feel like you’re avoiding us.

�� Sannie- Its not like you to message us once in three days.

WOO- its pissing me off

Sannie- we are on our way back to you

Sannie- expect us around 8 tonight…

Your eyes widen at the last message. You look at the time noticing that its almost 10am. Your heart started racing, you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t really have a valid reason to not messaging them, you just didn’t feel the need to. They needed time away from you, you felt. More like you needed time away from them, you needed to clear you mind a bit. Because what you felt for them is different than anything else you ever felt. Is it wrong to feel like this for them? For both?

At this point, you’re overthinking. You decided to message them back.

YOU- sorry, I just woke up guys. But did you guys have fun?

You didn’t know…they don’t know how to tell you. San and Wooyoung, they fell in love. Not only with you, but with your soul. They are bound to you for eternity and you didn’t know. It was absolutely the most painful thing this man has ever gone through. Days before them leaving, Wooyoung was losing this control a bit to fast.

It was a night that they decided to sleep over. You don’t usually cuddle with them, which made them upset sometimes. But that night, you fell asleep against Wooyoung while watching a movie in your bed. San was laying on the end more focused on the movie than anything. Wooyoung was sitting next to you, his back against the wall. You were laying against some pillows next to him.

Wooyoung looks over at you halfway through the movie to see that you were asleep. He pokes your cheek a bit to make sure that you were fully asleep. Then he gently pushes your head so that it fell right on his lap. Then you started to move making Wooyoung freeze and San to look back. When San watched you cuddle into Woo young’s lap, his eyes widen, and he starts to sit up a bit.

“Fuck…” Wooyoung groans softly, his body was tingling like crazy. He didn’t think this all the way through. San looks up at Wooyoung noticing the younger one staring back down at you.

“Yah, what are you doing?” San starts to freak, but also tries not to wake you up. San clenches his hands on the bed when he watches Wooyoung run his whole hand down your arm. He then rans his hand over your head and pushes your hair away from your neck. San didn’t know what to do and Wooyoung couldn’t stop.

Wooyoung felt his fangs start to protrude out, and his vision goes a bit red. He knows his eyes were glowing at this point. He looks up at San, noticing his eyes were glowing back at him.

“I just wanted her to rest on my lap a bit, as we never really get to hold her.” Wooyoung speaks slowly, he feels as if he might crack at any moment. Both men make sure not to move to fast, because if they did…who know what would happen.

“You know what skin on skin contact does to us, we can only handle it for so long. And you haven’t had any blood in a week, you’re really push our luck.” Sans voice starts to get deadly. He starts to threaten the younger one, warning him not to do any harm to you. “When we mark her as our, then it won’t be so intense. Until then we need to go and feed, and plan how we tell her.

In a blink of an eye, Wooyoung was standing next to the bed. They both watch you, making sure you don’t wake up. When you turn over and fall back into your deep sleep, they let out a breath.

“I hate this…” Wooyoung pouts softly as he tries to pull himself together. He also adjusts his pants a bit because he was supporting a hard on. San just shakes his head and pulls the younger one out into the living room.

It was the next morning when they told you about their vacation.

They are always with you, because its impossible to be away. They remember seeing you sitting in a café window enjoying some tea and a muffin as you drew on your iPad. San couldn’t help but to admire you the whole time, while Wooyoung was practically jumping up and down where he stood.

San tends to be the calmer and more serious one between the both of them. He tends to care for both you and Wooyoung so very much. San and Wooyoung have always been a duo, and they just knew that they needed one more.

Wooyoung being the giddy one, he walked up to you first, complementing your art and sitting down next to you without asking. San just rolls his eyes and his bluntness from outside.

Ever since that day, they haven’t left your side.

San watches Wooyoung pace around the hotel room as they wait for their friend Yunho. He’s dropping off some blood bags for them to take back home. His pacing was driving San insane.

“Will you sit down? You pacing around like that is pissing me off.” San says lowly as he rubs his temples a bit. Wooyoung instantly stops and groans, he runs his fingers through his hair.

“I need to be next to her. Do you think she’ll accept us?” Wooyoung asks San. He walks over to the bed and sits next to him.

“I have no fucking idea. I never know what shes thinking.” San mumbles. Its true, they never knew. That kept things interesting for them though, as they can read people quite easily. Wooyoung throws himself back on the bed, and he sighs.

“I don’t think I can survive if she rejects us.”

Suddenly both of their phone dings, they both instantly take out their phones and read the second message you’ve sent them in three days. They are pretty sure you loved driving them crazy.

YOU- sorry, I just woke up guys. But did you guys have fun?

Wooyoung couldn’t help but to laugh a bit.

“I cant believe she just messages us like she hasn’t been ignoring our messages.” He grumbles. Hes always asking if you’ve eaten, or wonders how your day is.

“Be happy that she even said anything back.” San says as he starts to text something back.

Sannie- Did you sleep well? Did you eat?

If you were asked what question they ask you the most, it would be “Did you eat?”. At first you thought it was sweet that they wanted to make sure that you were well taken care of. But at some point, it felt like they were trying to fatten you up. You always complain to them that you’re thick enough, maybe a bit too thick. Suddenly your phone starts to ring, your heart beating out of your chest. You look back at your phone seeing a group chat facetime call coming in.

You couldn’t ignore it, so you answer it. You face the camera towards your closet at the end of your bed instead of on your face.

“Hi Woosan.” You say, your voice cracks a bit since you didn’t wake up not to long ago.

“Why is the camera pointed at the wall, I called to see your face.” Wooyoung whines a bit into the camera. You couldn’t help but to blush while looking at both. They always look so good, in every angle and in every lighting.

“I just woke up, I look ugly.” You complain rolling your eyes a bit. You couldn’t help but to laugh little bit when you noticed that he rolled his eyes too. You found that cute, so you just turned your camera towards you. They’ve seen you when you first wake up plenty of time, how is this any different?

“Ahhhh, there you are pretty girl.” San smiles big when he sees you. You start to blush when you notice both smiling big and just staring at you. You wait a couple of more seconds before you notice them not really saying anything.

“Are you both just going to stare at me the whole time?” You ask covering your face a bit with your free hand.

“Mhmm.” Wooyoung smirks and nods his head, making a point to hold his head up with his hand and look lovingly into the camera at you. You throw your blanket off of your body and you sit up and stretch. You didn’t realize that the camera was catching the whole scene for them up close. They both looked at each other with huge smiles on their face.

“So cute.” They both coos. But you don’t hear that. You stand up from your bed and you head to your bathroom to start your morning routine.

“Why must you facetime me now if you’re coming home later.” You ask them as you set your phone up on a shelf that was near your sink. You grab your toothbrush and open the toothpaste.

“ahh, well…” Wooyoung starts off as if he wanted to say something, but he stops himself and looks over at San who was in the same room as him. San looks from him back to his phone at you.

“You suddenly forgot how to text, so facetime is the only way.” San puts it simply. They were damn near praying that you would answer.

“Sorry guys, I just feel so..” You pause from saying what you wanted, and you continue brushing your teeth.

“Eh?” San asks, not sure if he heard you or not. You just shrug and point to the brush in your mouth, then you leave the view of the camera.

When you’re done brushing your teeth and washing your face, you look back at the camera and noticed that they muted themselves. They were looking at each other and talking but you couldn’t hear them.

You take this time to look at your best friends, you will never get over how fucking gorgeous they are. San has dark hair with some red strands in it, he could rock any hairstyle. You were still trying to convince him to grow his hair out for a mullet. Wooyoung hair wasn’t black, but it was a dark brown. He got it done days before he left.

“Guys…” You say wanting to hear their voices. “Why am I muted? Are you talking about my birthday coming up?” You joke around.

“Of course, we are, it’s in a couple of days and we still haven’t gotten your gift yet.” Sans voice comes through first, his words getting you excited. His gifts were always amazing, from random songs he’s made for you to expensive jewelry. Wooyoungs always made you blush, giving you really pretty lingerie and expensive shoes. They really did spoil you.

You didn’t know, but they wanted to confess to you on your birthday. They wanted to tell you how much they love you before the bigger secret. They needed to see that you could handle them without all the extra stuff. They were very afraid of your reaction, but they were also confident in you. They wouldn’t have bonded with you if you couldn’t handle it.

“Actually, I want to go to a club for my birthday. I haven’t been to a club in a while.” You perk up at the thought. But the boys look at each other confused as hell. You always reject their attempts to get you into one. You know they loved dancing, so you always forced them to go without you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you guys fully dance, so I want to.”

Its true. Sure, you’ve seen them do a little dance here or there, but you haven’t seen them go all out. And if the rumors are true, they go crazy in clubs.

“Okay, but what about our little get togethers, I miss those.” Woo whines a bit as he speaks, making you blush a bit. You loved when he spoke like that, it made you feel like whatever you said next to him would make or break him.

“We can have one the night after, plus its Wednesday and my birthday is Saturday. We have time in between.” San nods his head in agreement with your words.

“Which one are you thinking?” San asks, he brings the camera closer to his face so he can hear you loud and clear. He wishes he were there right now talking about it with you. But the sun makes his skin itch, and he didn’t bring clothes for that. They will have to wait until the sun starts to go down.

“Mhmm,” You set up your phone on a cookie jar in your kitchen. You open the fridge and bend down to grab some thick cut bacon and some eggs. Both San and Wooyoung enjoy the show a bit too much, seeing your oversized shirt rise a bit as you bend over, showing off your black and white stripped undies. Wooyoung had to rip the phone away from his eyes. San looks over to him and watches as he fixes his pants to make his hard on more comfortable.

“Did I teach you anything about self-control?” San whispers harshly. He swears Wooyoung will never learn. He looks back at the phone, and watches as you start to cook some bacon.

“What’s the one club on the edge of town with the red sign called?” You ask

“Hwa Fang?

“Oh yes!! Let’s go to that one, you say you go there all the time, right?” You ask them while smiling. You couldn’t tell, but they got nervous. Hwa Fang is a club owned by one of their dear friends SeongHwa. SeongHwa is a much older vampire, he owned vampire clubs and human clubs. Hwa Fang so happen to be a combination of the two, allowing humans and vampires to mingle together freely. They don’t feel comfortable enough to let you go there without even telling you about them.

Their secret will come out then, and they can’t let that happen. But then again, they don’t want to disappoint you.

“How about the one downtown, the roof top on you’ve always wanted to go to?” Wooyoung brings up the club that you always see glowing at the top. You didn’t know it was a club until they told you.

“That’s true, but its also so much more expensive.” You contemplate your options as you finish cooking your food. You would rather not pay $50 for one drink.

“You know you don’t have to worry about that,” Wooyoung starts.

“Especially on your birthday.” San finishes.

You three continue talking about random shit, trying to make the time go by faster. While talking with them, you’ve realized how much you’ve been over thinking. These boys are your life and you’re okay with that. No matter what happens you can’t lose them, you refuse.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #choi san #jung wooyoung #ateez au #atiny #fluff #angst #smut #vampire au #ateez vampire

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3pirouette · 3 years

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Fic: Iterate (1/1)

Title: Iterate By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: Up through Endgame. Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 2953 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Summary: Steve lived through the 21st century twice, the second time hurt much more than the first.

A/N: I literally made myself cry today on the way to work while I was working this out in my head. It was SUPPOSED to be FLUFFY. I’m not exactly why I decided on this format, all I know is that it felt right. I hope you enjoy. Steggy is just mentioned, more Steve-centric.

It was supposed to be a stupid, fluffy story about Old Steve living with his granddaughter and being a LITTLE SHIT to her all the time because he’s 100% comfortable with modern things and it drives her nuts. I’m sorry.

Also, please pay attention to vague time stamps. Certain details are changed for impact. Hence, AU (Even though I FULLY BELIEVE that once the stones are placed back there is only ONE main timeline where Steve lived, was Peggy’s husband, and that’s how he showed up at the end of Endgame. Fight me.)

AND I’M SORRY.

~*~ October 2023

He supposed he’d always been waiting for this day. Steve knew he’d be around for it, one way or another. At least, he’d always assumed that, though he’d thought he’d experience it in a very, very different way.

He didn’t know the exact time, just a vague recollection that it was early afternoon, that there had been sunlight they’d blocked out with the blast shields, that they’d tried to eat lunch but they were all too nervous.

Funny. Same thing happened to him today. He couldn’t manage to get anything to slide down past the lump in his throat, couldn’t fill his stomach to calm the butterflies. He tried coffee first. It was warm and robust but had no effect.

He pulled out the tin from the back of the cabinet and made a cup of tea from one of the few remaining bags there. He sipped it and imagined Peggy sitting across from him, telling him off for using old tea that would be bitter and teasing him for how much sugar he put in it.

He drank a beer and wished to god that he had just one flask of whatever it was Thor used to carry around. He needed something to calm his nerves.

He caught his reflection in the window over the sink. For just the briefest second he saw his young self, so broken by so much, not knowing that today would be the day he’d be put to his greatest test. But the sun shifted and he could see every wrinkle in the refection, every grey hair, the haziness to his eyes that the doctor said was the beginning of cataracts.

A lifetime ago this day had changed everything for him without him knowing. Today, he was just as eager for the moment when Banner would put on that glove, this time for very different reasons.

~*~

In the end, Steve Rogers managed to live a fairly normal life.

Once back with Peggy, he kept away from the spotlight. Unsure if he’d created a parallel timeline or if he was living in his own, he did his best to avoid changing things.

Because even when he wanted to change things, he realized very quickly, he couldn’t.

He became enamored with sci-fi and fantasy that included time travel, with physicists who wrote books on the subject. He wanted to understand it, to know the unknowable.

He eventually decided that he was prescribing to the Doctor Who Theory of time travel: that it was all very, very complicated but that some things, no matter what, had to just happen in their own time and some things were simply fixed and would always happen the way they were supposed to. He’d seen this first with Zola- as he’d tried to get the man and his influence away from SHIELD they only dug their heels in deeper and kept him. It was later reaffirmed when, despite every effort, The Winter Soldier escaped him and Howard and Maria were left for dead in their car, young Tony devistated.

After that day, he stopped trying so hard to avoid squishing butterflies and focused instead on enjoying what he had.

What he had was, after all, quite a lot: A wife, two young boys, and a second chance at the life he’d missed while fighting other men’s wars.

~*~

Despite knowing all that laid ahead for him and his friends in the future that was now his past and yet somehow once again his future, Steve eventually started longing for the new millennium as decades past him by. He missed the technology, the ability to have whatever kind of entertainment he waited at the tips of his fingers. Though he’d known a good portion of what would happen from history books, once he’d gone back, he’d lived an entire lifetime full of surprises, experiencing things like the moon landing and the Vietnam war first hand. But now, as he grew older and he knew his days with Peggy were numbered, he longed for the small comforts of familiarity, for e-mails and smartphones and heated steering wheels on cars that parked themselves.

As the 2000’s arrived, he felt himself get more and more comfortable with the things around him: the news, the events he’d already experienced once and would again in a different way. It felt good to feel at least on solid ground with the world around him, knowing what was to come for him.

His home was lonely after Peggy was gone, and he made his only granddaughter an offer she couldn’t refuse: free room and board if she helped him keep up the house. An elementary school art teacher, Maggie was happy to step in for a little financial relief as she tried to navigate the churlish economy.

If he never told her that he was perfectly capable of taking care of the house by himself, it didn’t quite matter. The company was more than enough. And if when she smiled she looked just a little like her namesake and it warmed his heart… well, that wasn’t a bad thing, either.

The best part, he’d found though, was that it was hilariously funny to drive his granddaughter crazy. He’d lived through the early decades of the 21st century as a young man. He’d learned how to navigate the internet, interface with the most complicated technology there was to offer, and listened to music that wouldn’t be written for years to come. He loved watching her face as he sang along to Billie Eilish on the radio or realize that she didn’t have to explain to him how to use an iPad or Facetime.

~*~

She yelled at him the first snowfall. Skidded her car (all-wheel drive, thank goodness he’d convinced her to get the newest model) into the freshly shoveled driveway and tore out of the driver’s seat, yelling at him a mile a minute.

They’ll think I’m some kind of self-centered princess letting a centenarian shovel this and try to kill himself! She’d yelled, trying to take the shovel from his hands.

He was still stronger than he should be, and held his ground. I don’t want you hurting yourself on this stuff.

Me? She’s screeched, and he’d laughed. He couldn’t help but smile and find her concern at least a little comical. Deep down he understood, knew that he should be trying to sell his age a little more, be trying to hide that he was still strong and fast and in better shape than some of his middle-aged neighbors.

As much as he’d like to push her off, tell her to go inside, he couldn’t. She wasn’t a self-centered princess, but she was his princess, and he bent to her whim like a branch in the wind. He’d kissed her on the head and finally handed her the shovel, leaving her the last bit of the path to her to clean up, and promised to take better care of himself.

She didn’t know that when she left for work, he still went down the basement and bench pressed 225 on an easy day.

~*~

She teased him about his record collection. Even though records had come back in style, she still thought it was silly to have a whole wall dedicated to them when she could access nearly all of musical history on her cell phone. He showed her his own digital playlists and popped in his airpods when he was reading sometimes, but he loved the sound the needle made when it hit the wax.

One night, when he couldn’t listen to her teasing anymore, no matter how good natured it was, he played dirty.

You know, there’s a new song coming out by one of those artists you like. WAP? Heard it’s a cover of a song your Nana and I used to dance to all the time.

Two weeks later, he heard the familiar opening bass to the song Barton had played incessantly in the gym while he was working out and had quoted for months, the song that he hadn’t been able to get away from even in the past with random phrases like macaroni in a pot popping into his head at the most inconvenient times.

Barely half a verse in she’d either shut it off or turned the music way lower. At dinner she couldn’t look at him.

That was not at cover, Pop Pop. And I don’t want to think about you and Nana like that… ever.

~*~

She cried when she came home, a year after Peggy’s death, to see Peggy’s beautiful vanity had been moved into her room, Peggy’s jewelry box on it front and center.

What did you do? She’d kept asking him, tears in her eyes.

She’d want you to have it. He knew it was the truth. He hugged her tight as she sniffed and knew he’d made the right decision. He remembered Peggy sitting with Maggie on her knee on the small stool, letting the girl paw through her necklaces and play with her big fluffy make-up brushes. Maggie reaching for her eyeshadow and Peggy deftly pulling it away. Peggy being just a little too slow with the lipstick and the toddler bouncing around the house, proudly showing off the circle on the bottom half of her face to anyone who would look at her.

They’d loved their boys, but Maggie had both of their hearts in a way they hadn’t been prepared for.

Steve had to make up and excuse to leave the house the next morning when Maggie came down to breakfast, wearing the single pearl drop necklace he’d gotten for Peggy on their 25th wedding anniversary and her signature red lipstick. It was a good pain, but the first time he saw her in her grandmother’s necklaces, it was pain none the less.

~*~ Spring 2018

He knew the date it was supposed to happen. He’d kept up enough to know that it would, too. His other self was out there, somewhere, fighting what would become the biggest battle of his life.

Steve decided to focus on the small things. He kept the house stocked up with food and drinks, nonperishables that would last months and even years, toilet paper and paper towels. He ordered big metal shelves for the basement and made sure there was enough for multiple people for the long haul.

He didn’t know what would happen to his family in the snap- who would make it and who wouldn’t, but he was going to be sure whoever survived would be set for the following months where there was chaos, food and water shortages, and fear.

It would be a long five years for anyone that was left.

Even though she was home most nights, he asked Maggie for a standing Thursday night date. Some nights he showed her how to keep the house up: where the water main was, how to shut it on and off, where the gas line was, what to do if the roof started leaking. He made notebooks full of lists of things to do, how-to’s for the house and for life, and even, when he was awake in the middle of the night, wrote her letters so she wouldn’t be lonely.

Somehow, he just knew it would be him this time. He had survived the first snap, but if there were two of him and one survived, the other, statistically, did not. Thanos was very clear on how half worked.

Maggie, at first, had been scared. His family knew he had a knack for predicting the future, but didn’t know quite why.

Are you dying? Maggie had asked, fearing the worst when she started to realize that their Thursday night take-out and movie date was about more than just spending time together.

No, he’d said so very often, I just want you to be ready for anything.

Despite all of her questions, she went along with it.

When the day came, he couldn’t quite keep the sadness out of his eyes. Couldn’t quite smile at her. They ate pizza in front of the TV, watching a comedy Maggie had picked. He kept his eyes on his watch. It was coming.

His fingers itched. Like he could already feel his cells pulling apart.

He reached out, taking her hand in his and covering it with is other hand. “Maggie, you know I love you, right?”

She smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She’d sensed his anxiety all day. “Of course, I do. And I love you, Pop Pop.”

He looked away and then back at her. “I promise you, whatever happens, I’m alright, and I’ll be back.”

“Pop Pop,” her eyes filled with tears, “What are you talking about?”

He shook his head, “I’ve left you everything you’ll need, and I promise I’ll be back.”

A tear fell from her eye as she squeezed his hand tighter. “But where…”

It was as if the world went silent as it started to happen. Though the television droned on in the background, he could swear the air was stiller. He started to see the dust fill the air and tried not to breathe.

But it was wrong.

It wasn’t him.

Her hand was falling to nothing in his, the fear in her eyes haunting as the skin of her cheeks flecked into the air, swirling before falling along with the rest of her into a pile on the couch.

It was so fast. So fast.

And it wasn’t him.

“No…” The word fell from his lips as a whisper, sobs starting to form in his throat.

~*~

He wondered, nearly every night for five years, if Thanos knew. If it had somehow been a conscious choice to keep him alive, to make him suffer just a little more. To make him watch his other self on television trying to promote healing.

Sometimes, he realized that this was a blessing. His sons and granddaughter were safe while they were snapped, protected by the fabric of the universe. Bucky had told him that he didn’t remember anything from being snapped, didn’t feel any different when he woke up than if he’d taken a long, heavy nap.

Somewhere, his family was taking the universe’s longest nap without him.

But they’d be spared these memories. They’d be spared lonely nights of missing loved ones and too little to eat while the world sorted out the jobs that were suddenly empty to keep things running for those that were left behind.

They’d be spared the fear of the gangs that started roaming the streets of half abandoned cities, looting for food and clothes in stores that had never officially closed but also couldn’t open with their owners simply gone.

They’d be spared the rolling blackouts and the contaminated water scares.

They’d be spared the fear of the country as the government suddenly found itself missing elected officials and the infighting and the rhetoric that came with martial law and hasty elections.

They’d be spared so, so much pain and loss.

Every day, he relived it all, twice over.

He counted every day for five years, making his way through each week and month motivated by only one thought: they were coming back. He needed to be ready for them, for her.

He helped his daughter in law keep their house, managed his other son’s apartment in DC and kept his things ready and waiting, made sure Maggie’s things were safe and in working order, made sure her bank account stayed open and her phone bill was paid. He’d never, not once, considered he’d be the one left behind, and the logistics of all there was to do left him busy for the first few weeks.

Everyone told him his hope that the dusted would return was infectious, but after the first year, people stopped listening. He knew, for a fact, they’d come back, but everyone else didn’t. Even the past him was operating on the idea that they’d never be back.

Some days he didn’t make it out of bed. He laid there, talking to the ceiling, whispering to Peggy, wishing she could talk back, wishing she could be one of the ones brought back. He missed her with a ferocity that hadn’t changed since the first time he’d been in this time, but had only been tempered and strengthened by a lifetime together.

As the days drew closer to the five-year mark, he began to make arrangements.

~*~ October 2023

He cleaned the living room and set it to the way it had been that night. He pulled out every note and letter he’d written Maggie and his children and put them in the kitchen, ready and waiting.

He sat on the couch, facing the blank television, a new, piping hot, pepperoni pizza sitting in front of him, untouched.

He still couldn’t eat.

He still didn’t know if this was the right timeline. As he’d gotten closer to this day his faith had wavered. What if all he’d come to believe wasn’t true? What if this wasn’t the one fourteen million? He wanted to believe, but he didn’t know for sure.

He looked at his watch, watching as the seconds ticked by. What were a few seconds to him? He’d lived more than one lifetime, and that had been enough. He had barely made it through these five years the first time. The second time had almost truly broken him. He was ready for this to be over. He was ready to stop having to deal with loss and to be able to live whatever time he had left with the family he loved.

He held out his hand, and waited.

#3P's Fic #so sad #I am so sorry #yes #that's the end

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choruscas · 4 years

Text

suptober day 12: rewind

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!

Pie was a guilty pleasure. While not necessarily a guilty one, it was still a mighty pleasure to Dean.

Almost as if tradition, Dean’s husband, Castiel, made him a different kind of pie every Saturday. Both of them would be off their jobs, as the weekends were a blessing in disguise, and Castiel would make pie for dessert after dinner.

Now, Dean never necessarily asked Castiel to make these pies, but he did anyway with a smile on his face and lips ready to kiss. It was something that the man had always wanted to do, warmth in his heart, ever since he realized his sexuality.

Meeting Castiel over four years ago was to start with agonizing, as the love for him was permitted. However, grabbing up the strength to talk to him was the best decision he had ever made.

This week was pumpkin pie, as the October weather forecast was chilly and Halloween was creeping up.

Dean was laying down on the couch, his hot dog pants and ‘Send Noods’ socks kept him warm. When he had first bought them, Castiel had belly chuckled and spooned him in the night. The oven radiated heat and Dean’s hands were cold so he popped his knuckles, causing a hiss of pain from Castiel.

“Stop doing that, silly!” Castiel scolded. “You’re gonna get arthritis!”

“At least it ain’t a cancer scare. My fingers are cold.” he responded, still cracking his knuckles.

“Dean.” Castiel said sternly.

“What?”

“Don’t.”

Dean looked down. “Yeah I know... sorry.”

“It’s okay, beloved.”

Dean repeated the nickname on his lips, silently. Beloved. He has always loved that nickname. The first time Castiel had called him that was in bed and it was the best sound he had ever heard.

The cancer scare was true. Dean had started feeling chest pains, and almost couldn’t breathe when he laid down flat. They went to the doctor and they told him that it could be a heart tumor. Turns out, it was only heart burn and they gave him medicine for it, but the drop in both of their stomachs was still scarred in their minds for all of eternity.

“About five minutes, alright?” Cas told him, tilting his head and wiping his hands on the handkerchief.

Dean, love-sickened and smiling like Castiel hung the stars, reached out and motioned Castiel to come to him. Unable to resist the urge, Castiel succumbed to Dean’s puppy eyes and laid in his arms sprawled across the couch.

Five minutes had rolled around of them cuddling and Dean made grabbing motions out to Castiel as he stood up to get the pie out of the oven.

“Dean...” Castiel said sternly. “Would you rather have burnt pumpkin pie for a few minutes of cuddling, or a delicious pumpkin pie and better and more cuddling afterwards?”

Dean huffed. “Guess you’re right.” he replied with a smile hidden in his jaw.

After the pie had cooled down, Castiel served it to him at the kitchen’s bar. Putting his elbow on the counter and cupping his own jaw with his hand, Castiel stared at the man like he was the finest piece of art he had ever seen.

Dean took a bite and practically melted into the gooey taste of pumpkin. He offered it to Castiel, like he almost always did, but he simply shook his head no.

“Cas, why don’t you ever eat your own pie?”

“Dean...” Castiel blushed.

“What is it?”

“I don’t like pie.” He shrugged.

Dean practically gasped.

“Cas. Of course you like pie!” Dean said accusatory, laughing. “You make me some every week!”

“I don’t, Dean. Have you ever seen me eat one?”

Dean pondered for a minute, and his conclusion was the same as anyone else’s would be. “No.”

“Then there’s your answer. I don’t like pie, but I still make it for you.”

“Hold on. Rewind. You’re meaning to tell me, I’ve known you for four years, we’ve been married for two... and you’re telling me that you don’t like pie but you still make it for me? Why didn’t you ever tell me?!”

A small smile appeared on Castiel’s face. “You told me that you would never marry someone who didn’t like pie.”

Dean’s jaw slacked. “You... let me say this again— you’re telling me, you don’t like pie.”

“Yes.”

“And... you never told me because I said I’d never marry someone who didn’t like it.”

“Yes.”

“Because you thought I wouldn’t marry you.”

“...Yes.”

A long pause of contemplation.

“Cas, you’re a fuckin’ dork.”

“I know that.”

Dean motioned, once again, for Castiel to come to him. He did and Dean enclosed him in his arms, the earthy and cinnamon-like smell of Castiel filling his senses. He was everything he ever dreamed and more.

It was now tradition, that every week, Dean had bought Castiel ice cream (hisfavorite dessert) to go along with his pie separately. Castiel would enjoy his ice cream and Dean would enjoy the pie, snuggling on the couch together enjoying the fall weather.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

#suptober #suptober20 #deancas #destiel #pie #destiel au #day 12: rewind #day 12 #rewind #writing

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itsnsfwalways · 4 years

Text

Canyon Moon

FIC MASTERLIST

WARNINGS FOR CHP. 2: swearing, mild drug & alcohol use, brief mentions of death

CHAPTER TWO: wish i could get to know you

The two of you pull up to your buddy Mike’s place, a small, hole-in-the-wall studio.

Harry parks the car and gets out to open your door, although he waits for you outside to tie your boots.

“How’d you meet this guy?”

“Oh, Mike? We can’t really remember the first time, I’ll tell you the story with him when we’re inside.”

You hop out of the car and grab his hand, swinging it back and forth as you walk up to the front, hearing soft music playing already.

The two of you reach the door and Y/N swings it open, yelling out,

“I hope you’re ready because mama wants a tattoo.”

Harry shakes his head and tries to hide his grin as he turns around to shut the door all the way.

“You’re fucking stupid,” A male voice laughs out, looking up from his sketchbook. His feet are propped up on the counter, and of course, he is littered with tattoos.

“Mike, this is Mr. Ferrari, Ferrari, Mike,” you introduce, waving your hands between the two.

“I saw that fuckin car, I was like ‘who the fuck is coming to me in that?’” Mike exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

“Hey, mate, I’m Harry,” Harry says, leaning forward to shake Mike’s hand while giving you a look that makes your head drop to the floor and your heart skip a beat.

“Nice to meet you, dude. I’m Mike, Like your tats,” Mike says, getting up from the chair behind the counter.

He leads the two of you over to his station, getting all his supplies laid out as you hop into the leather chair.

“So what are you getting, Y/N?” Harry asks, sitting in a chair near you.

“This extremely intricate design that’s going to take lots of mental power, and, of course, only gives me a few hours notice,” Mike teases, kicking the bottom of your chair.

“It’s just this geometrical thing I saw on a Tarot card a little while ago, it really stuck out to me.” You explain, pulling the card from your purse.

“Oh, cool.” Harry nods, picking up the card, only after looking at you for permission, of course. He holds it lightly by the edges, being sure to be gentle with it.

“‘S not gonna bite you, baby,” you giggle, knocking your knee against his, biting back a smile at the way his head shoots up.

He grins at you, knocking his knee back while setting down the card carefully on the table.

“I know, but I know these cards are special to some people, want to be gentle with em,” he says softly, twirling his pointer finger ring.

“Some decks are, but these are very relaxed. You don’t have to treat em like glass.”

He nods and blushes slightly, looking away for a second to hide his smile.

“You done flirting so I can start?” Mike asks, removing the transfer paper from your inner right forearm.

“You’ve had sex on my living room floor, I’m allowed to do whatever the fuck I want after that,” you say, shuddering slightly at the memory.

“Fair point.” Mike nods, beginning the design.

“So, um, Y/N said that you guys can’t remember how you met? I’d love to hear the story.” Harry jumps in, eyebrows raised at your last statement.

“Oh, fuck,” Mike laughs, dipping the needle in more ink. “I think it needs to come with a warning that I spent pretty much the entire year of 2015 drunk. She says we met at a Tame Impala gig but I have no such memory of this happening.”

“It did happen! You gave me your number because I kept bugging you about your tattoos but it was to this random mom in Philadelphia, who did not appreciate me calling her at 3 am.”

“Anyways,” Mike cuts in, rolling his eyes, “We officially met at a New Year’s Eve party later that year that my wife, Maggie, hosted. Y/N and her ex came and proceeded to break up right before the ball dropped, and she made out with my sister instead just to piss him off.”

You let out a laugh and cover your quickly turning red face with your hand, peeking through your fingers to gauge Harry’s reaction.

“Wow.” He acknowledges, eyebrows raised and fingers pinching his bottom lip, glancing back at you. His lips quiver slightly as he tries to hold back his laughter.

“Alright, haha, very funny. The ending to this, BEAUTIFUL, story, I must say, is he gave me this tattoo the next week and the rest is history.” You gesture to the sunflower bundle inked on your thigh, before puckering up your lips at Mike, who, without even looking up, shoves your face with his other hand.

“Honestly, Harry, I’d run while you can. There’s never a dull moment with this one, that’s for fucking sure.” Mike advises, rolling his eyes when you smile widely.

“I’m starting to learn that,” Harry laughs, eyes trained on you.

The three of you go into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the tattoo gun whirring and your occasional whimper at a sensitive spot.

A thin line of sweat has slowly covered your body, and Mike notices, scoffing.

“We’re gonna take a quick break. I’m gonna go get a cig when you get calm, back in 20,” He says, stopping the machine and leaving the room quickly.

“So, uh, you guys have quite a fun dynamic,” Harry comments.

You take a deep breath and look to him, your mouth closing at how he’s positioned. It’s been about an hour at this point, and he’s shifted in his seat to a more comfortable position. Leaned back against the chair, legs spread open, arms resting behind his back, it wasn’t helping your situation.

“Yeah, he’s like my older brother. His sister is great too,” You mindlessly say.

“I’ll bet,” Harry smirks, nodding slowly.

“Hey, quit it. You get to have fun with pretty girls and so do I.”

Harry clears his throat at your boldness and adjusts his positioning, changing to lean forward on his knees.

You get up to grab two water bottles from the mini-fridge under the counter, offering one to Harry when you sit back down.

Drinking about half the bottle, you let out a sigh, trying to get your shaking legs under control.

“What’s your shirt say?” You ask, still having not figured out the small black text.

“Oh, it says ‘Treat People With Kindness’. It’s kind of my motto, or slogan, I guess. Most of my merch says either this or the abbreviation for it.” He tells you, hands going down to pull the shirt away from his chest.

“That’s really nice, Harry.” He glances up at you with a small smile on his face, nodding slightly.

“Bit egotistical wearing your own merch, but hey, who am I to judge?”

He rolls his eyes and bumps the bottom of your chair with his foot.

“Why’d he stop? You don’t seem to be freaking out to me. Maybe a little sweaty,” he teases, not realizing what he’s asking.

Groaning, you lean your head backwards towards the ceiling, hating yourself for what you’re about to say.

“Got a bit of a pain kink so I’m... overwhelmed, let’s say, and Mike hates that about me.”

Harry lets out a breath of air at this and you turn your head to look at him.

Your slight leg tremors are now starting to click, the blown out pupils, and swollen red lips from how much you were biting them.

“If it makes you feel better, I had to get a tattoo on live television and to this day, I still see zoomed in photos of my eyes from it online. At least they make the process fun.”

Your jaw drops and you lift your head up.

“Alright, Harry, shit,” you mutter, wiping the sweat off your brow. “Always got to one up me.”

He looks shocked at this and mockingly puts a hand to his chest.

“Says you! From the minute I met you, you’ve continued to surprise me with everything you say.”

“Okay, Mr. ‘I sang with Stevie Nicks and cruise around Malibu in a beautiful car’.” You say, blushing slightly from his words.

“You sang with Stevie Nicks?” Mike asks, walking through the door.

“Yes! He’s a musician, let’s play his album. What’s it called?” You jump up, slapping your hands on your thighs.

“Harry Styles, it’s a self-titled album. You can listen to it later if you want, I mean, we don’t have to-“

You shut off his rambling quickly.

“I wanna hear your voice! Also self-titled, we love a man with a big ego,” You tease, getting up to get the iPad that controls the music.

Typing in his name, you raise your eyes at the number of streams he has, clicking on the album and playing the first song, ‘Meet Me In The Hallway’.

“You’re quite pretty, Harry. That’s some gorgeous cover art.” You comment, pretending to examine it further.

“Oh god,” he laughs, tucking his chin down to hide his face a little bit.

“Okay, Y/N, shut up, sit your ass down, so I can finish this and you can listen to the song properly.” Mike points, making you put the iPad down and come over.

The song hypnotizes you for a second, trying to zone out and listen to it.

“Shit, Harry, you are fucking good.” You mutter, hand going to your mouth at his talent.

“Thank you,” he whispers, looking almost nervous at your reaction.

Your jaw stays open pretty much the entire song, each note making your eyes go wider or glance at Harry, trying to figure out how he is this perfect.

“Is it too soon to propose?” You ask, his voice slowly fading in the background as it changes to the next song.

He laughs and scrunches his nose slightly before telling you, “Just a tad.”

The next song starts playing, and you’d be lying if tears didn’t fall.

Trying to play it off, you look away and wipe your eyes. Mike glances up at you and stops for a minute, rubbing your arm slightly and giving you a squeeze. You tap back on the table and he nods, feeling better that you gave him an okay.

“Fuck, sorry, this is a lot. Crying on the second song, phew. Hope you’re doing good upstairs, Harry,” You laugh, sniffling a little.

“Don’t apologize, please. Music brings up a lot of emotions, I feel so honored that you’re reacting to it so strongly.” He says, rubbing your knee slightly,

“Should I cry a little more then?” You tease, smiling at him with damp eyes.

“Boost my ego a bit, maybe,” he smiles back.

All of a sudden, the song climaxes, and your jaw drops once more.

“Holy shit, Harry! Do you have anything wrong with you? My god.” You shake your head, in disbelief over him.

“I mean, I am always traveling, so there’s that. But other than that, I’m pretty much awesome,” he pretends to boast, fake popping his collar.

The song shifts to Carolina, which Harry tells you after you ask as soon as it starts playing.

“She’s such a good girl, she feels so good. Am I hearing that right? Just wanna check,” you recite the lyrics slowly back to him, moving your free arm around.

Harry looks away, pretending to check out the pictures on the wall behind him.

“Are you gonna be like this for every song?” Mike asks, and you nod happily, bumping your head to the beat.

Almost the entire album plays while Mike is tattooing you, all with varying reactions of either, ‘Harry!’, ‘Is this real?’, ‘I’m gonna start crying’, or ‘this is the sexiest shit I’ve ever heard’. Without fail, you ask him the song name when the first few notes start playing and he tells you it, sitting quietly and smiling at you getting so happy over his music.

Mike finishes wrapping you up and goes to the back to find some healing products for you as the final notes of Woman play, and you swivel in your chair to face Harry, knocking your knees against his.

“What’s the next one called?” You ask, so in awe of the man sitting in front of you.

“From the Dining Table. ‘S the last one. Quite an emotional one.” He says back, smiling sadly at you while playing with his rings.

You nod in understanding as it starts, coming to sit next to him and leaning your head on his shoulder, so drained from the last few hours. He wraps his arm around you, tucking his head over yours.

The song goes by without a noise from either of you, sans a few sniffles that made Harry squeeze you a little tighter.

After it ends and the two of you sit there in silence for a while, you say quietly,

“I like how at the end the music swelled when you wanted them to call you, and then it cut out. That was pretty powerful.”

He nods, the movement moving your head slightly.

“I like that part too.”

You pull away from him and look at his face close up for a second, trying to read him.

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I mean, obviously not with me, but that you let me freak out over you. You’re really special, Mr. Ferrari,” you whisper, brushing his hair out of his face.

“So are you, Y/N,” he mumbles, eyes flickering to your lips for a second.

“You paying cash or card?” Mike’s voice cuts through the air and the two of you jump apart, feeling like teenagers.

“Um, card,” You say, standing up with your purse and heading to the counter to pay.

Mike rings you up and you grab a hundred from your wallet to tip him with.

“Ah, I remembered why I like you,” Mike smirks, grabbing the bill from you.

“Stupid,” you mutter, giving him a hug goodbye.

“Oh, before you leave, I’m throwing a party this Saturday, Harry, you’re welcome to come as well,” Mike adds, gesturing him over.

He moves from his spot against the wall to stand next to you, a hand resting on your lower back for a second before dropping to his side.

“Thank you, I’ll have to check and see but I’d love to come. It was great meeting you mate, might have to set an appointment up in the future,” He smiles, shaking Mike’s hand once more.

“Hell yes, brother, I’d love to. Great album, by the way. Can see why Y/N brought you by.” Mike crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you while he says this.

“Alright, shut it down,” You snap your fingers at him, glaring slightly. “I’ll text you later, loser.”

“Get out!” He yells, making you laugh as you drag Harry away.

“Need help with your bag?” Harry asks as you exit the shop, the cold air biting your bare legs.

“I’m good, thank you though.” You swing the bag so it hits his butt just to see the way he jumps and runs away from you for a second.

“Hey! No hitting the driver!” He scolds, wagging a finger pointedly.

“We haven’t even gotten in the car yet!” You argue, coming to a stop in front of his car.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head and grins at you when he unlocks the door, immediately reaching for yours to open it for you.

“Thank you.” Your voice came out as a meek whisper and you cleared your throat after he shut the door, trying to shake out your butterflies.

He plops himself down next to you and pats his hands on the steering wheel for a second.

“Do you want me to drop you off at your van or your apartment?” He asks, turning to face you.

“Trying to kick me out?” You questioned, laughing at his expression.

“Van’s fine. I’m probably just going to write, I’ve got some stuff to do for a friend.”

“Is there a name for the beach? I’m not sure I remember how to get there,” Harry admits, opening up Google Maps on his phone.

“Not really but I can just find it on the map real quick, I’ve been in this position way too many times.”

He hands his phone over and you find the cove in less than twenty seconds, handing it back over.

“So where are you from? I’m realizing you tricked me into spilling my guts without telling me too much about yourself.” Harry questions, hand going up to scratch his chin.

“I grew up kind of all around California, my family was always traveling so I was homeschooled for all my life. Only child, because we were pretty broke and I was a ‘happy accident’,” You quote, laughing at your mom’s phrasing.

“Aren’t we all really?” Harry grins, shrugging slightly.

“I think so. Anyways, my parents died when I was 15 and that really made me get my shit together. I moved in with my best friend, Laura. Graduated high school early and just worked my ass off for a couple years. Bought Miss Sunflower and renovated her, traveled through America for about a year and a half before moving here with Laura. She and I got an apartment together and just have kind of figured life out since then. She works at a record label and I’ve been working as a part-time songwriter since I was 16, mostly just helping out whenever an extra person is needed or they need some extra little sad sprinkles in a song.” You explain, taking a breath after you finish your little rant.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I know your parents would be very proud of you staying true to your roots.” Harry sadly smiles, rolling up to a red light at the perfect time. He leans over to give you a quick hug and you graciously accept, whispering a little ‘thank you’ in his ear.

“It’s been a rough grieving process but I’d like to think they are. Please don’t pity me though, it sucks, yes, but life could be so much worse. I’m lucky to have the people in my life that I do,” you explained, picking your nails nervously.

“I completely understand. I lost my stepdad last year and being there for my mum was the only thing that kind of kept me going,” Harry sympathizes, twisting one of his rings around his hands.

“I’m sorry as well,” you murmur, taking his hand and holding it.

“Yeah,” Harry exhales harshly. “Life’s a bitch.”

You giggle lightly, nodding. “That she is.”

The two of you sit in silence for the remainder of the drive back, listening to the ocean waves and the sounds of your breathing.

Harry parks his car next to your van and puts it in park, leaving the headlights on.

“Thank you for coming with me and sharing all of this, you really know how to make a girl feel special,” you blush, tucking a loose curl behind your ear.

“Thank you, Y/N. I feel like my whole view on the world has shifted so much in the last few hours,” Harry gushes, and you have to turn away to smile for a second.

“Come on,” you mumble, hiding your mouth with your hand.

“I’m serious! I know we just met but I really like you, I’d love to continue this. And I need to listen to you play still, not fair I only got to hear from far away for a few seconds.”

“I’d definitely like to see you again, but it’s a harsh maybe on the playing,” You nod, biting your lip to stop the smile from plastering itself on your face.

“I can give you my number if that works, but, like I said, I’m always here.” You offered, gesturing to your car.

“Number works great. And I’ll let you have your spot, I don’t want to take it away from you,” Harry pulls out his phone to give you his contacts.

“No, please come join me, with friends too! I need to share this little bundle of joy,” You hope to pursuade him into visiting this spot, but his expression is unreadable.

“How about this, I’ll text you before I come?” He suggests, taking his phone back from your hands.

“Perfect. Thank you again, Harry,” you emphasize, leaning over to give him another hug.

“Of course, love. Thank you for a wonderful night.”

You wave goodbye after getting out of his car and head into your van, taking note he doesn’t leave til you’ve gotten yourself inside and shut the door.

You plop yourself down on the bed and sigh, looking up at the ceiling.

“Holy shit,” you sigh, getting up to get into the driver’s seat.

You FaceTime Mike on your way back to the apartment, unable to wait to talk to Laura when you get home.

He answers a few seconds later, beer in hand.

“‘Sup loser,” he greets you with a head nod, “You get home okay?”

“Yes, oh my god. What the fuck was tonight? What do you think of Harry?”

He sighs and moves to lean his phone against something.

“If I’m being honest, the man is unreal. I don’t know how the fuck you found him but, wow. I can’t think of anyone who is down to not only drive someone they just met to get a tattoo, but to then sit through the entire thing while having them fangirl over their album.”

“I was not fangirling!” You try and defend, but one look from Mike shuts you up.

“Okay, maybe I was, but I’m just so in awe. I gave him my number because I thought he might feel weird giving me his. He had almost a billion streams on his first fucking album. That’s insane.” You explain, biting your thumb.

“Quit biting. And yeah, I’m not going to lie I looked him up after you left. Mans is a proper superstar, used to date Kendall Jenner allegedly.”

“Bleh,” you shake. “I don’t want to know about his life from the internet, that’s so weird. Also, when Alex and I were together he was dating some new model every other week, all those magazines are bullshit.”

“True. But Alex also was dating a model,” Mike retorts, trying to pick your buttons.

“Haha, very funny,” you deadpann, rolling your eyes.

“I’m just saying, as your brother, be careful. He really does seem like an amazing guy.”

“Yeah. He really is. Say hi to Maggie for me when you get home! I’m rolling up to my place right now so I gotta go.”

“I will. I know you already know how to take care of your tattoo so I’m not gonna waste my time. Later, loser.”

“Bye, dumbass.” You hang up, pulling into the driveway.

Practically dancing up the steps and through the front door, you’re met with the cozy atmosphere the two of you have created for yourself. You can tell your favorite vanilla candle is burning somewhere in the house and you slip off your shoes, practically running into Laura’s room and leaping onto her bed.

“Hello, my love,” she smiles, hugging you tightly. Her perfume envelopes you and you squeeze her back, lying your head in her lap.

“I thought you were staying at the beach today?” She wonders, playing with your hair.

You sit up at this, resting on your elbows.

“I met a boy,” you smile, putting your hands to your cheeks.

“Shut up!” Her voice raises a few octaves and she scrambles upright, hitting your thigh with her hand.

“Ow!”

“Who is he? Where? Oh my god!” Laura rattles off, bouncing up and down on the bed.

“His name’s Harry, we met at the spot. He came with me to get the Tarot card tattoo at Mike’s.” You gesture to the bandage around your forearm.

“Shit, man. What’s he look like?”

“Fucking hot. He’s British, for one. Tall, curly brown hair, green eyes, lots of tattoos. Also, he’s got the voice of a goddamn angel.”

“You’re not talking about Harry Styles, are you?” Laura asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know him?” You wonder, surprised she knows his name.

Her jaw drops and she fully shoves ou off the bed, emitting a ‘hey!’ from you.

“Of course I know Harry fucking Styles. Are you serious?”

You blow your hair out of your face and lean up on your elbows, one leg still on the edge of the bed.

“No, I’m not joking, what the hell?” You laugh, pulling yourself back onto the comforter.

“How the- who- what?!” She stutters, looking at you expectantly for a story.

“He came up to me on the beach asking for a lighter, we smoked a j and just kind of started talking. I asked if he wanted to go to Mike’s with me and he drove me over, and I’m me, so I tried to pick apart his brain a little. We listened to his album, which, by the way, have you heard it? That shit’s incredible.”

“Of course I’ve heard it! The entire world has heard it! Keep going!”

“Jesus,” you laugh, shocked by her reaction. “He drove me back and we got a little deep, I gave him my number before I left. I think we kind of had a moment though, he looked like he wanted to kiss me for a second.”

You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, thinking back to that moment.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Laura sighs, falling back dramatically on her pillow.

“I know. I feel kind of weird though, he seems very closed in. I mean, I get it, I saw that he has quite a bit of fame, but I don’t want to have to pry him open, y’know?”

“I mean, yeah, but he’s really fucking famous. His fans are some of the most die-hard people out there. And there’s a hell of a lot of people who would do unspeakable things to be in your position. Myself included,” she mumbles at the end, and you swat her with a pillow.

“Gah,” you moan, lying down next to her. “I don’t know how to navigate my way around that kind of fame. What if he sees that, or still thinks that I’m lying about not knowing who he is? That’d be a bit egotistical, though, so maybe I’d be dodging a bullet.”

“Nope! You are not missing out on an opportunity to fuck Harry Styles.”

You laugh, scrunching your nose.

“I don’t want to think of him like that. Just Harry, the dude who I’ve been relentlessly teasing all night.” You turn onto your stomach suddenly.

“Shit. What if I was being too much?”

You groan again, pushing your face in her pillow.

“Than he’s dumb for not realizing how funny you are.”

Your phone pings suddenly, and you grab it from your back pocket, not recognizing the number on your home screen.

“Shit, he just texted me.” You shout, standing up onto the ground while you read the message aloud.

Hey, Y/N, it’s Harry. Hope you’re enjoying the rest of your night, I just wanted to give you my number and thank you again. Tonight was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while, if I’m being honest, and I was wondering if you wanted to do lunch tomorrow?

“Oh, fuck ME, he just asked me out to lunch.” Your hand goes up to your mouth as you look wide-eyed at Laura, who’s expression matches yours.

“Bitch, say yes!”

“Okay!” you yell back, pacing back and forth.

hey harry ! i’m glad you had fun tonight, i was worried i might’ve scared you off haha. i’d love to do lunch, what time were you thinking ?

“Does that sound okay?” You hand your phone off to Laura, getting her stamp of approval before sending it.

“Ah! Okay, shit fuck, it’s sent.” You throw your phone onto her bed and lean against her door, waiting for his reply.

Your phone lights up not even two minutes later, a text from Harry reading,

Haha, definitely didn’t scare me off. If anything, the opposite. How does noon sound? I can pick you up if you’d like?

“A gentleman,” Laura sighs, fanning herself as you read it together.

“Shut up,” you mumble, blushing slightly as you type back,

well, good, i’m glad :). noon works great, here’s my address. sleep well, harry.

I’ll be counting down the minutes. Goodnight, love.

You scream as you read his last text, shoving your face in your hands.

“Oh my god, okay, Y/N, take a chill pill,” you tell yourself, taking a deep breath in. “Ugh, why am I getting so worked up over a guy?”

“Because he’s funny, cute, talented, and rich, bitch.”

You give Laura a look and she laughs,

“Okay, money, fame, and any prior knowledge I have aside, he seems like a great dude. And if he’s not, well, my dreams will be absolutely crushed.” She shrugs, going back to scrolling through Instagram.

“Oh, wow, thanks.” You roll your eyes, standing up. “I’m gonna make some tea, you want any?”

“I’m good, thanks though.”

You nod and shut her door behind you, going into the kitchen to turn the kettle on.

Hopping up on the counter while you wait, you decide to do a little bit of Instagram stalking, just to see what he posts.

You click on his most recent one, smiling at his caption.

“Kissy,” you mutter, shaking your head lightly.

Scrolling through a few more of his photos, you bite your lip at his outfits, incredibly jealous of his stylist. His feed is better than yours, if you’re being honest, and you smile at the thought of him making sure all the black bars line up.

Hearing the whistle of the kettle, you hop off the counter and pour yourself a cup of chamomile. Closing out the app, you take your mug into your room, turning on your lights that make your room look like you’re floating in the galaxy.

Placing it on your nightstand, you get yourself ready for bed, spending a little extra time washing your face and doing your skin care routine.

You slide into bed and open up your latest book find of the week, this one being Misery by Steven King.

You find your eyes drooping after a while and set your things on your nightstand, snuggling deeper into your blankets.

With a smile on your face, you drift off to sleep, excited for tomorrow.

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imaginetings · 4 years

Text

the winter witch - welcome to the fun house, blackwood.

Y/N - Your Name

Word Count - 1512

Prologue - Welcome to the Fun house, Blackwood.

Warnings - Death, filicide, swearing, all around shitty situation considering family beforehand.

Moving 5.3 thousand miles at sixteen wasn’t exactly my plan but it’s what ended up happening. No GCSE taking, no getting drunk in a field on the last day or after prom. Instead it’s a flight to California to live with my older sister. Although I guess it was bound to happen given the circumstances and the only place, I could realistically go without being put into a bad situation was here, Beacon Hills in the Golden State. As if being a 16-year-old isn’t melodramatic enough, being one with issues and a fish out of water creates melodrama for a good year or so. The drive from the airport to Beacon Hills itself wasn’t too bad considering I fell asleep whilst my sister drove, there wasn’t much conversation, I guess she’s still in shock considering she had a much different experience in comparison to the one I had, not that I blame her. I think something simply snapped in them, mum was always murmuring to herself in a different language, it seemed as if it was Latin and dad would randomly snarl at people. I guess everyone has their points, but theirs led to them filicide, whereas others just simply have a breakdown and they have a support system. Not killing three of the four children in the home at the present time. Although Bea has been living in our great grandparents’ old house since she inherited it and done it up. Yet I have a feeling with her being a successful author helps to pay the bills.

It’s only when Bea pulls up in front of the house that I feel myself to get choked up. “How can you sit there so calm Bea? After what they did to Alastair, Blaze and Harry, how can you not be a bit more of a mess?” I question my sister, tears rolling down my face.

“Because Y/N, I didn’t see it like you did, it hasn’t processed in my head like it has for you. But I’m here for you now and I am going to be the big sister you’ve missed out on since I left.” Bea explains and she puts her arm around me across the centre console and I rest my head on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry Bea, I should’ve done more to save them or to stop them.” I sob out.

“Hey, Y/N listen to me, it’s not your fault one bit now how about you come inside and meet Apollo, he’s dying to meet you and I am sure he’d love to give you all the cuddles in the world.” Bea tries to cheer me up and I sniffle and nod.

I hop out of Bea’s grey Toyota and grab my bags from the boot of her car and follow her up to the house after locking the car behind me. Bea is already at the door and after unlocking it and opening the door, a Pit Bull comes darting out the door and jumps up on my front and starts licking me. “Aw, hello little fella. Aren’t you the cutest guy around here huh?” I say dropping one of the bags so I can stroke him, and I can hear Bea laughing. “Okay, Apollo! Come here!” He gets down instantly and retreats to her and I pick up my bags and follow suit to the house. It’s only when I get inside, I really grasp how big the house is. “Jesus Christ Bea, when you said that the house was a bit bigger than what I’d be used to, I didn’t expect this. Fucking hell!” I exclaim in amazement and the scale of the downstairs area and how cosy it is at the same time. All Bea does is laugh.

“Hey, follow me, I’ll show you your room.” Bea suggests and I follow suit and gaze around the house as we walk and how the walls look so clean and modern with different prints from artists around ranging from simple line art to intricate landscapes. There are few photos, but I assume she has a majority of them in her room. That’s when we stop in front of an eggshell white wooden door. Bea ushers for me to go inside the room and it has a little corridor before opening up to the room which is simple and has a double bed with a wooden frame and white bedding. To the left there’s a door that leads to what I presume to be my bathroom which also doubles up as a wardrobe as well. I find myself gobsmacked. “Like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” I exclaim and hug her.

“I know it’s not much right now at least until your stuff from England gets here but you can decorate however you want it okay?” I simply nod at Bea.

“Thank you, seriously Bea.”

“It’s fine. Anyways, whilst I am working tomorrow, I need you to run some errands for me and when you are done with them, I’ll teach you how to drive and maybe we can watch some movies? You’ll be having to start school when it starts up again in January, so we have three weeks for you to adjust here.” I give her a small smile and that’s when she leaves me to my devices. That’s when I lie down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling, what adventures will come to me? I don’t know. Will I meet new people? Indefinitely. Do I have a feeling that this town has something to it? Yes. Am I going to find out? Now that is an answer that I don’t think anyone knows or would be willing to answer.

--------

Falling asleep in my clothes from the day prior was apparently a bad idea since it made me feel dirty as soon as I woke up. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I quickly shower and get into some clean clothes. Wandering through the house I end up in the kitchen and I find a list of errands for me to do today and underneath is another note to give to someone called Deaton? I shrug and put them in my pockets so I can get some breakfast before leaving.

Just as I am about to put the bread in the toaster, I hear Bea shout my name. “Yeah?” I question. “I’ve got a friend coming around so let him in when he gets here please!”

“Sure!” I reply and turn back to the toaster and push them down.

Yet just as they pop out of the toaster the doorbell rings. “I’m coming!” I pull the toast out and drop it on the plate before sliding towards the door and slipping back as I open the door due to wearing socks on a clean laminate floor. I fall on my ass as the door swings open to reveal a dark figure in a leather jacket and seems to have a case of resting bitch face to me. He looks down at me. “Hi.” He awkwardly greets and offers me a hand up.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Bea’s younger sister. You must be…” I trail off.

“Derek. Derek Hale. It’s nice to meet you Y/N, can I ask where’s your sister?” He questions and I step away from him due to the proximity.

“I think she’s in her study, I’m sure you’ll know where that is because I sure as hell don’t. Now if you don’t mind me, I’ve got some toast with my name on it. It was nice meeting you Derek.” I explain and give him a sincere smile.

“You too Y/N” he returns with a smile and heads down the nearest corridor presumably to Bea’s study. I close the door behind him and head back to the kitchen. As I sit there eating my toast I notice my iPad lighting up with messages from Facebook messenger from my friends back at home. I elect to ignoring it and go back to eating my food when a shiver runs down my spine. Ha, it must be somebody walking over my grave. That’s how the saying goes right?

I finish up my food and head out to do the errands that Bea has requested. I stop by the animal clinic where I am met with a boy my age with an uneven jaw. “Hi, is Deaton here? I have something for him from my sister.” I explain to him and he explains that he’s just gone to pick something up from the shop, or store as he called it.

“So, are you new in town?” He questions.

“Let me guess you could tell from the accent?” I return and he chuckles.

“Just a bit, do you know your way around town?” I shake my head. “After Deaton gets back, I’m meeting with my friend Stiles, if you want we can show you around.” What sort of a name is Stiles?

“You know what I’ll take you up on that offer…”

“Scott. Scott McCall.”

“Nice to meet you Scott McCall, I’m Y/N Blackwood.”

#teen wolf fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey x reader #the winter witch fic teen wolf #imaginetings

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thelittlesttimelord · 4 years

Text

The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 13

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 13 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 13/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.

[A/N - I feel like I’m going to break everyone’s hearts with this chapter. This one is a longer one.]

The Doctor and Elise stepped out the TARDIS to find little black cubes everywhere.

The Doctor picked one up. He turned to Elise with a smile. “Well this is new.”

They met up with Amy, Rory, and Brian.

The Doctor was now walking around the console examining the cube in his hand. “All absolutely identical. Not a single molecule's difference between them. No blemishes, imperfections, individualities.”

“What if they're bombs? Billions of tiny bombs? Or transport capsules maybe, with a mini robot inside. Or deadly hard drives. Or alien eggs? Or messages needing decoding? Or they're all parts of a bigger whole. Jigsaw puzzles that need fitting together,” Brian suggested.

“Very thorough, Brian. Very, very thorough. Well done. Stay here. Watch these. Yell if anything happens,” the Doctor said, placing his cube on top of the one Brian was holding.

“Doctor, is this an alien invasion? Because that's what it feels like,” Amy told him.

“There couldn't be life-forms in every cube, could there?” Rory asked.

“I don't know. And I really don't like not knowing,” the Doctor said.

They stepped out into Amy and Rory’s lounge and the Doctor made his way into the kitchen. “Right, I need to use your kitchen as a lab. Cook up some cubes. See what happens.”

“Right, I'm due at work,” Rory mentioned.

“What? You've got a job?”

“Of course I've got a job. What do you think we do when we're not with you?”

“I imagined mostly kissing.”

“I write travel articles for magazines and Rory heals the sick,” Amy told him.

“My shift starts in an hour. You don't know where my scrubs are?” Rory asked.

“In the lounge, where you left them.”

The Doctor went to work constructing whatever it was he was going to use to experiment on the cubes. “Ah, the Ponds, with their house and their jobs and their everyday lives. The journalist and the nurse. Long way from Leadworth,” the Doctor said, sonicing his device.

“We think it's been ten years. Not for you or Earth, but for us. Ten years older. Ten years of you, on and off,” Amy said.

“Look at you now. All grown up.”

The front door was busted down and heavily armed people entered the house.

The Doctor pulled Elise behind him and Amy stepped closer to the Doctor.

“Clear! Trap one, kitchen secured.”

“Trap three, back garden secured.”

Rory was lead into the kitchen at gunpoint. “There are soldiers all over my house, and I'm in my pants,” he said.

“My whole life I've dreamed of saying that, and I miss it by being someone else,” Amy quipped.

A blonde woman entered the house. “All these muscles, and they still don't know how to knock. Sorry about the raucous entrance. Spike in Artron energy reading at this address. In the light of the last twenty four hours, we had to check it out, and the dogs do love a run out. Hello. Kate Stewart, head of scientific research at UNIT. And with dress sense like that…” She pulled out a scanner and held it up to the Doctor. “You must be the Doctor. I hoped it would be you.”

Kate frowned. “We seem to be missing someone.”

The Doctor reluctantly stepped aside, revealing Elise behind him.

“Ah, hello there.”

The Doctor stepped back in front of Elise. The Doctor wasn’t too keen on all these heavily armed soldiers around his daughter. “Tell me, since when did science run the military, Kate?”

“Since me. UNIT's been adapting. Well, I dragged them along, kicking and screaming, which made it sound like more fun than it actually was.”

“What do we know about these cubes?”

“Far less than we need to. We've been freighting them in from around the world for testing. So far, we've subjected them to temperatures of plus and minus two hundred Celsius, simulated a water depth of five miles, dropped one out of a helicopter at ten thousand feet and rolled our best tank over it. Always intact.”

“That's impressive. I don't want them to be impressive. I want them vulnerable with a nice Achilles heel.”

“We don't know how they got here, what they're made of, or why they're here.”

The Doctor picked one up and tossed it in the air. “And all around the world, people are picking them up and taking them home.”

“Like iPads have dropped out of the sky. Taking them to work, taking pictures, making films, posting them on Flickr and YouTube. Within three hours, the cubes had a thousand separate Twitter accounts.”

“Twitter?”

“I've recommended we treat this as a hostile incursion. Gather them all up and lock them in a secure facility. But that would take massive international agreement and co-operation.”

“We need evidence. The cubes arrived in plain sight, in vast quantities, as the sun rose. So, what does that tell us?”

“Maybe they wanted to be seen. Noticed,” Amy said.

“Or more than that, they want to be observed. So we observe them. Stay with them round the clock. Watch the cubes, day and night. Record absolutely everything about them. Team cube, in it together,” the Doctor said. He kissed the cube and smiled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Four days later and the cubes hadn’t done anything.

The Doctor was currently hanging upside down on Amy and Rory’s couch, while Elise sat by the window. “Four days. Nothing! Nothing!” He picked up one of the cubes and started hitting it. “Not a single change in any cube anywhere in the world. Four days, and I am still in your lounge!” He sat up.

“You were the one who wanted to observe them,” Amy told him.

“Yes, well, I thought they'd do something, didn't I? Not just sit there while everyone eats endless cereal!” The Doctor jumped up from the couch.

“You said we had to be patient,” reminded Rory.

“Yes, you! You, not me! I hate being patient. Patience is for wimps.” The Doctor threw himself back on the couch. “I can't live like this. Don't make me. I need to be busy.”

“Fine! Be busy!” Amy yelled, “We'll watch the cubes.”

The Doctor jumped up from the sofa and started to get things done around the house.

“How are you not bored?” Rory asked Elise.

Elise shrugged. In truth, she preferred the quiet. She could let her mind wander.

The Doctor soon threw himself back onto the couch. “That's better. Nothing like a bit of activity to pass the time. How long was I gone?” he asked.

Rory checked his watch. “Uh, about an hour.”

“I can't do it.” The Doctor jumped over the back of the couch and went inside the TARDIS.

“Where are you going?” Amy asked.

Amy, Rory, and Elise followed him into the TARDIS.

“Brian, you're still here,” the Doctor said, finding Brian in the jump seat.

“You told me to watch the cubes.”

“Four days ago.”

“Ah! Doesn't time fly when you're alone with your thoughts?”

“You can't just leave, Doctor,” Rory told him.

“Yes, of course I can. Quick jaunt, restore sanity. Ooo, hey, come if you like.”

“They can't just go off like that,” Brian said.

“Can't they? Can't you? That's how it goes, isn't it?”

“I've got my job,” Rory said.

“Oh yes, Rory. The universe is awaiting, but you have a little job to.”

“It's not little. It's important to me. Look, what you do isn't all there is.”

“I never said it was.” The Doctor looked at Amy, but she just stood there. “All right. Fine. I'll be back soon. Monitor the cubes. Call me. I'll have the TARDIS set to every Earth news feed. Come along, Elise.”

“I’m staying,” she told him. Her statement stopped everyone in their tracks.

“Ellie…”

“I want to stay with Amy and Rory. I like not having to run for my life or wondering who’s gonna die.”

“Oh, okay then.” Elise walked over to him and put her hand on his cheek. “It’s not forever. Just a few weeks. Just like when you sent me off with River.”

The Doctor smiled softly. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. I just need to grab a few things from my room.” The Doctor managed to keep it together long enough for Elise to pack a suitcase and say goodbye. The minute he set the TARDIS in flight, he broke down. He should have known she’d leave.

They always did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elise settled into life with the Ponds quite well. Their friends got used to seeing Elise around the couple.

Amy and Rory had come up with the story that Elise was Rory’s niece who needed a place to stay while attending university.

Amy loved having Elise around the house and enrolled her in art classes.

Amy and Rory treated Elise more like a daughter than a friend; Elise becoming a surrogate ‘Melody’ for them both.

“Goodnight, Elise,” Amy said.

“Night,” Elise said and closed her bedroom door. She’d been with Amy and Rory for about a month now, but she missed her father and River.

Amy and Rory were great and all, but they weren’t the Doctor.

She spent her days sketching and painting. Amy and Rory tried to convince her to sell some of her paintings, but Elise refused so they kept getting moved into the garage.

Eventually one month turned into two and soon it was Christmas.

Amy and Rory noticed a change in Elise. The happy girl who had first moved in with them turned into a girl who spent all her time in her bedroom, sketching in her sketchbook. Even the allure of Christmas presents and Christmas dinner could make Elise come out of her room.

Amy burst into her room.

Elise was laying on her bed, staring at a picture of herself, the Doctor, and River taken on a past Mother’s Day.

“That’s it. Get up. I’ll not have you moping!”

Elise rolled away from her.

Amy sighed. “Elise, I know you miss your father, but you can’t keep doing this.”

Elise ignored her.

“Have you tried calling him?”

“He won’t pick up the phone. I can’t even get in touch with River!”

Amy heard Elise’s voice crack and she soon dissolved into tears. Amy quickly embraced the girl, holding her tightly.

Elise didn’t think it would be this bad. She thought she’d like being stationary. She did, but she missed her father more.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The New Year rolled around and Elise’s attitude started to improve.

Amy and Rory made sure to get her out more often, instead of just leaving her in the house with Brian all the time. She got back into painting and even started writing in her journal again.

Soon, Amy and Rory’s wedding anniversary rolled around.

Amy had purchased Elise a new blue dress for their summer barbeque, reminiscent of the one she wore to their wedding. Amy even taught Elise how to put on makeup and did her hair.

Amy was leaving yet another message for the Doctor. “Hey! Doctor, it's me. Hello. So, the UN classified the cubes as provisionally safe, whatever that means, and Banksy and Damien Hirst put out statements saying the cubes are nothing to do with them. And the cubes, well, they're just here. Still. What's it been, nine months? People are just taking them for granted. Maybe we'll never know why they came. But anyway. Elise is doing better. Personally, Rory and I just think she was going through her rebellious teenage phase. I remember how I was when I was her age, but let’s not get into that. I got to Laura's wedding. It was great. She's here tonight, being as it's our wedding anniversary. We thought you might have dropped by. I left you messages.”

The Doctor appeared behind her, holding a huge bouquet of flowers. “I know! Happy anniversary! Come with me. And bring your husband. Where’s Elise?”

Amy pointed over to where Brian stood.

Elise looked…beautiful. He almost didn’t recognize his own daughter.

Elise finally looked over at him and dropped the drink in her hand. She ran over to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream.”

The Doctor smiled. “You’re completely awake, Ellie.”

“Good, because I’m never leaving you for that long again.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Doctor tried taking Amy and Rory on one trip as a gift for their anniversary and things kept going wrong and soon it had been two and a half months.

They returned on Amy and Rory’s anniversary, but no one but Brian noticed that they were in different clothes. Even Elise.

As Elise settled in for the night, the Doctor entered her room.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked.

“Um, yeah.”

The Doctor sat down next to her on the bed. “I’ve decided I’m staying.” “What?”

“I miss Amy and Rory. And I missed you most of all.”

“I missed you too.”

The Doctor reached out and wiped a tear off Elise’s cheek, causing her to break down.

She’d cried so much in the last nine months, it was a wonder she still had tears to cry.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now,” the Doctor cooed, rocking gently, “Why are there so many songs about rainbows and what’s on the other side…?”

The song wasn’t enough to calm Elise like it normally did.

The Doctor felt bad that he was causing her all this pain and that he couldn’t take it away. He worried for what it would do to Elise in the end.

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor imagine #eleventh doctor fanfiction #doctor who #doctor who imagine #Doctor Who fanfiction #amy pond #amy pond imagine #Rory Williams #rory williams imagine #brian williams #brian williams imagine #the littlest timelord #the littlest timelord: the fall of the eleventh #power of three

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thecleverdame · 5 years

Text

TTWDBI - Eight

Part Eight - Deceit

Masterlist

Summary: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader - Sam is young, powerful and comes from one of the wealthiest families in New York. When he meets an Omega bartender who’s far from what his family expects, Sam is forced to make a series of hard choices.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, smut, knotting, breeding, dominance, ownership, angst, family drama. This chapter contains an attempted sexual assault, actual physical assault, and talk of past abuse.

Words: 6.5k

Beta: @ilikaicalie -

Part Nine is currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

“Where are we going?” You peek out of the walk-in closet. “I need a few details. I don’t know what to pack.”

“Just pack everything.” Sam’s distracted, staring down his iPad with a stylus between his teeth.

“Winter everything or warm weather everything?” You slink out into the bedroom. “Come on, just a hint. Just tell me...are we staying in the state or are we going somewhere more exotic.”

“Nope.” He quips, marking notes on the digital screen.

“How long are we staying? Are we driving or flying?” You persist.

He perks up a little, actually making eye contact with a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Pack enough for a week, a dress or two, something warm. A bathing suit, well, on second thought you won’t need the suit…”

“You’re awful.” You laugh, as he nips at you.

It’s been a month since Jake and things between you and Sam couldn’t be better. The last four weeks have been wonderfully uneventful and it’s given you the time to enjoy each other. In fact, you’ve discovered that the more you’re around each other, the deeper your love grows. Fate must have known what it was doing when it brought you together.

“Bring that black thing with all the lace, the one piece. I love your ass in that.”

“Maybe.” You smile, pulling the aforementioned neglige from the hanger and carefully folding it into the suitcase. “How many bags can I bring with me?”

“As many as you want we’re taking my dad’s plane so you can - fuck!”

“Aha!” You jump back out of the closet, to find Sam shaking his head, glaring at you. “We’re taking a plane somewhere. Out of the state? Out of the country?”

“You think you’re so slick.” He puts down the iPad and stands up, moving toward you. “You’re just going to have wait until tomorrow.”

“Come on!” You whine. “I wanna know.”

“I’m not saying another word, I might give something else away. I’ve kept it secret this long. I’m not letting you trip me up at the finish line. My lips are sealed.”

He pulls to you him, one hand around your waist, fingers curling around your back as his thumb trails over the scar on your neck.

“I’m excited.” You whisper, eyes fluttering at his touch. “I haven’t traveled much. I always wanted to, Donna and I were going to backpack through Ireland but neither of us ever had the money.”

“I’m gonna take you everywhere.” He murmurs, leans down for a light kiss. “Just wait.”

Prague, Czech Republic

The city is like a rich noir novel come to life. It’s a taste of the old world, with its decadent buildings and thick, hanging fog. It’s like living in a Bela Lugosi movie. You’ve been here for three days, with five more to go. A whole week in a place you didn’t know you loved until the plane landed and you stepped out into this strange new land.

It’s well after sunset as you walk arm-in-arm with Sam over the cobblestones.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, hot breath puffing out into the frigid night air. He places a gloved hand over yours.

“Starving.” You smile, picking up the pace.

Dinner is a five-course meal in a candlelit tavern that looks like a medieval alehouse, complete with walls of stone and soft music playing the background. It’s a small place, only a few other couples cuddle around the aging wood tables giving the illusion of privacy. You might as well be the only ones here as you get lost in Sam, and food, and the otherworldly surroundings.

By the time the sorbet arrives you’re both so full, you can only manage a taste before sitting back, grinning like a fool. Sam looks just as happy, he’s had a smile plastered across his face since you left New York and this broad, unadulterated joy looks good on him.

“I can’t believe this is my life.” You giggle, reaching across the table, laying your hand over his.

“You like it here?” He doesn’t need to ask, he knows he picked well. He’s watched you discover art and architecture and European cuisine. He knew you had deeper interests, a desire to see more than your previous life afforded but in this place, you’re blossoming.

“It’s not just the city, it’s being here with you. Everything just feels right.” You blink back tears. “I’ve never been able to breathe without something looming over me. I just feel so free. I love you so much.”

If it’s even possible his smile widens, dimpled cheeks rounding out.

“I love you, too.” He squeezes your fingers. “What’s been your favorite thing so far?”

“St. Vitus Cathedral at night.” You answer without even thinking about it. “I’ve never felt anything like that before, it was overwhelming and...emotional. Is that weird?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I felt the same way when I saw it for the first time. I was visiting my mom and we came here. I was eight or nine and I stood there for an hour, transfixed. We should go back. We can go tonight.”

“Really?” You confirm. “I’d love that.”

“No better time than the present.”

After dinner, you wander through the city. It’s chilly but tolerable as you stroll for the better part of an hour, talking about nothing and walking arm in arm as a fat moon rises high in the night sky.

St. Vitus rises in front of you like an architectural beacon, lighting up the night like a gothic fairy tale.

“I never wanna leave.” You whisper, feeling both of Sam’s arms wrap around you from behind.

“What do you love so much about it?” He asks softly, nuzzling into your hair.

“The city, the people...but mostly I think it’s being with you. When we’re home you work so much...I’m not complaining. I just miss you sometimes.”

“We’ve got the rest of our lives to be together.” He whispers as he releases you. You turn to look at him but he’s already on one knee, crouching in front of you.

“Sam.” You’re already crying as he tugs the glove off your left hand.

“I love you. I wanna spend my life with you.” He states simply, a sparkling ring between his fingers. “I don’t want to wait any longer to start our life together. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You blurt out, half laughing, half crying, while he slips the ring onto your finger.

“I’m gonna make you so happy,” he whispers, standing and cradling your face between two warm hands. “I promise.”

The rest of the week is a lovesick haze. The days are spent making love and endless conversation about the details of your new life. Everything feels like it’s falling into place, life has finally come together to give you something good.

New York City

“Come in!” Mary claps her hands together, grinning wildly.

“Hi,” you gasp as she embraces you in a tight hug.

“Sam,” She releases you and reaches out to her son, kissing him on the cheek.

“Hi mom,” he grins as she pats his face. “You’re happy.”

“Well, I have a surprise for you.” She looks at you, the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on her face. “I think it’s just what we need.”

“What is it?” Sam smiles at you, taking your hand and leading the way to the study.

Rounding the corner you find two extra guests seated on the leather sofa, your parents.

You stop in your tracks as Sam tugs on your hand, turning to look between you and these new strangers. You’re locked in a staring match with your father, who’s teetering on the edge of the couch with a glass in his hand. Your mother is sitting uncomfortably beside him, these two couldn’t be more out of their comfort zone. They’ve always considered wealth in itself to be an offensive extravagance.

“Hello, Y/N.” Your father stands up, clearing his throat.

You unconsciously sidestep closer to Sam even though he’s not physically intimidating like when you were a girl, now he’s just a man in cheap trousers who no longer holds sway over your life.

“Hi, Dad.” You don’t move to greet him, there’s complete silence until your mother joins her husband, slinking past him to place a kiss on your cheek. “Mom.”

“Well, this isn’t exactly the reception I was hoping for.” Mary’s tone is painfully cheerful despite the unbearable tension.

“I’m sorry,” You pull yourself together. Turning to Sam you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes, you won’t be able to fake your way through this. “Sam these are my parents, Alastair and Naomi. Mom, Dad, this is Sam.”

Sam, always quick with his social graces, shakes your father’s hand and introduces himself to your mom while you are trying to formulate a plan. You were fully prepared to never see either of them again, but you find yourself in a room with two people who rival John and Mary in their cruelty.

“I just thought it was about time that we met Y/N’s parents.” Clasping her hands, Mary scrunches up her nose, smiling from you to Sam. “And what better time? You two can tell us all about Prague.”

“Actually, this is perfect.” Sam’s arm slips around your waist. “We have some news.”

“Oh?” John speaks up for the first time, tilting his head and staring at Sam. It’s amazing how much disappointment the man can convey with a single, one syllable word.

“Yeah,” Sam’s hand squeezes your hip and you look to him for the first time. He’s smiling, a bright genuine smile that even his father can’t take from him. “I asked Y/N to marry me.”

John snorts, Mary’s face contorts into a hideous expression of forced joy and your father remains stoic. It’s Naomi, your mother who has the biggest reaction, moving in to embrace you while your arms hang at your side.

“Congratulations,” she sputters, lifting your hand to see the ring. Her eyes go wide at the sight of the sizeable diamond. “Oh my gosh.”

“If she’s a wearing a ring that must mean she said yes,” Mary approaches you for a hug, nearly shoving your mother out of the way to get to you. “I wish you would have told me Sam, I could have helped with the ring.”

“I think I did alright on my own.” Sam’s grin, his eyes locked on you.

“It’s perfect.” You add, trying not to be distracted by this unexpected turn of events. This should be a happy announcement and you hate that your past is tainting the present, bleeding into your new life like an open wound that refuses to heal.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married.” Your mother has the same dulled, Stepford Wife expression she wore your entire childhood. “Marriage is such a gift, such a sacred bond.”

“Does that mean you’re happy for me?” The question comes out with an edge despite doing your best to temper the disdain.

“Of course.” She looks between you and Sam.

“Congratulations.” John’s face is even, unreadable as he approaches his youngest son.

“Thanks.” Sam accepts his father's half-hearted hug.

“Well,” Mary’s frozen in place, hands clasped together, turning to your father who hasn’t spoken or moved from his seat. “This is delightful news, isn’t it.”

“Seems backward to me.” His eyes lock onto you just like when you were a kid, so much silent contempt for what you are. He’s always resented that his daughter is an Omega. “You’re already claimed. What’s the point?”

“Dad.” You warn. Everyone is watching but all you can see is your father.

“I think it’s wonderful.” Mary tries to intercede. “With the baby things will be-”

“Mom!” Sam hisses.

Your mother looks heartbroken and your father’s eyes narrow in on you.

“You expected me to be shocked?” He snorts. “I wouldn’t have expected anything different from our daughter. She’s always had trouble keeping her legs closed.”

“Hey,” Sam is right beside you, ready to jump but you put your arm out to stop him.

“I know what you think of me. You’ve always made that much clear.”

“And you’ve always lived up to expectations. I tried my best with you, your mother and I both did. But you and your sister never listened.”

“Tried your best?” You laugh dryly. “You treated us like we were filthy, like being an Omega meant that I was damned from the get-go.”

“You had no self-control. It was bad enough when you were little but once you presented and that first heat came it was clear what kind of women you’d end up becoming.”

“I was a child!” You shout, tears springing to life. “I needed you to love me, to protect me. I needed mom to show me how to handle myself. All either of you ever did was hurt me.”

“This is the problem with today’s society. A little discipline never harmed anyone, and you needed more than you got.”

“I can’t be here with him.” You turned to Sam who’s already wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You’re going to burn in hell. You’ve always been a whore and I knew that you-”

“Stop.” John’s booming voice cuts through the noise, snapping everyone to attention. “You can’t speak that way to her, not in my home. You should leave.”

“Gladly.” Alastair stands up, your mother following blindly just as she always has. He stops to offer you final look of disgust. “You’re in the middle of a vipers nest and you don’t even know it. I’ll pray for you.”

“Get out.” Sam pulls you against him.

“What an awful man.” Mary comments, tucking hair behind both your ears. You can’t stop crying and the embarrassment doesn’t help. She wipes her thumb across your cheeks. “If I had any idea I would never have invited him here.”

“All I want is to live my life, to be happy. I don’t know why that’s always been so hard for me.”

“Well, there’s nothing happier than a wedding.” She dotes, handing you a glass of water, turning to Sam who’s seated next to John at the end of the table. “Have you two talked about dates yet?”

“Next month.” Sam nods, tapping his finger on his whiskey glass.

“Next month?” She scoffs, eyes darting to John. “Why so soon?”

“She’s going to start showing at some point.”

“My son is suddenly concerned about what other people think.”

“We don’t want to wait any longer. We want to move forward as a family.” You chime in. Mary doesn’t look at you, instead takes a seat at the table.

“I think it’s a good thing.” John offers casually as the three of you turn to look at him in disbelief. “Family is important. That’s a lesson I’m still learning. I haven’t always been the most supportive, but if Sam’s happy, if you two make each other happy, then why the hell not.”

He raises a glass, tipping back the final vestiges of whiskey, his eyes never leaving you.

On Monday morning you’re not feeling well. Sam looks at you sideways, sipping a cup of coffee.

“You alright?” He kisses your cheek before checking his tie in the mirror beside the door.

“Just tired.” You mumble, wrapping the robe around yourself. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Go back to bed.” He suggests, grabbing his keys off the counter, swooping in for one last kiss.

There’s a gentle buzzing coming from somewhere in the kitchen. Sam pulls away as you both look around. After a few seconds of silence, it buzzes again. Something’s vibrating. He follows the sound to the pantry, sliding the doors open, the sound growing louder. After shifting a few canned goods around he pulls a small black flip phone from the back of the highest shelf, from behind a 5lb bag of rice.

“It’s a phone?” You ask, watching and he flips it open with his thumb.

“Yeah, it’s dying.” He holds it up, the screen is nothing but the image of a drained battery.

“How’d it get in there?” You ask as Sam hands it to you.

“No idea, must be the housekeeper’s.” He shrugs. “I gotta go, see you tonight.”

Sam’s knee deep in a fresh set of analytics, already late for the quarterly meeting when there’s a knock the door.

“What it is?” He asks, expecting Rowena’s head to poke around the corner. Instead, it’s Mary who steps into his office, offering him a tight smile.

“I came at a bad time?” She’s slinking toward his desk as he shuffles papers back into the proper folders.

“Sorry mom, I’m right in the middle of it. I’m already late for a meeting. Can we talk later?”

“I just need a second.” There’s a large manilla folder in her stands, clutching it like she’s holding the crown jewels.

“I’ve only got one minute, but we can get coffee later if you want to-”

“I’d like that, but I-I have to show you something.”

“What?” He’s only half paying attention. When she doesn’t speak he looks up to find her holding the folder out toward him. “What is that?”

“Before you get mad at me, I want you to hear me out.” She explains calmly.

“Mom-”

“I care about you Sam, I won’t ever feel bad for that. I know you think you love this girl but the truth is no really knows where she came from or-”

“I’m not having this discussion.” Sam rests his knuckles on the desk, leaning forward.

“She’s not who you think she is.” Mary’s flustered, unadulterated anger rising her voice. “I know you think I’m always trying to manipulate you, but I’m not the only one-”

“Please, just stop. You’re on dangerous ground. You wanna be careful what you say next. I thought you were on board. Has this whole supportive production just been an act?” He can’t believe she’s still trying to pry her way into his relationship.

“No, I’ve been trying, honestly I have.” She walks around his desk, setting the folder in front of him. “You need to look at this when you have the time.”

“What is it?”

“After I first found out you claimed an Omega I hired a private investigator to look into her background. I needed to be sure you weren’t going to end up hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” Sam shakes his head.

“Sam, he found some things you need to see before you decide to marry this woman.”

“Everybody’s got shit in their past, mom.” He throws up his hands, looking from her to the folder, unwilling to dignify this with an adequate response.

“Not like this.” Mary’s jaw clenches. “She has been busy-”

“No.” Sam interrupts, he’s had enough. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“I hope, for your sake you look at what he found. Don’t call me, call him. His number is in there.”

Sam sighs, takes a deep breath trying to fathom what in the world his mother is up to now. He’s disgusted but interested enough to pick up the pack and slide it in with his other documents.

“You need to stay out of my life.” He grabs his jacket off the back of the chair. “Find a way to get supportive or get out. It’s one or the other, Mom. I love you, I do, but I’ve got to go.”

By noon you’re sick to your stomach, lightheaded and generally feeling unsettled. Figuring it’s better to be safe than sorry you call the clinic. Dr. Johnson has an open appointment the next morning so you take the slot and go back to bed.

A few hours later the cramps wake you out of dead sleep. You jolt into consciousness clutching a hand over your abdomen, sweat covering every inch of you. Something is wrong, you know it in your bones.

You get yourself in a cab and head to the nearest emergency room. You don’t want to call Sam, not yet. He and John are having an important day, meeting with investors and getting ready for the global launch of their new flagship drug. Things have been going so well even his father is coming around. You don’t want to throw a wrench in the works by overreacting.

Omegas are made to carry children. You keep repeating that to yourself as you sit in the waiting room.

After twenty minutes you’re in a triage room in a paper gown waiting for the doctor. They’ve taken a gallon of blood but no one’s told you anything.

There’s a soft knock at the door.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Tuttle. I’m told you’re not feeling so well?”

“Not the best.” You smile as he takes a seat on the stool, rubbing hand sanitizer between his hands. He flips open your chart, reading through the notes.

“Twelve weeks, no complications. You’re claimed… Sam Winchester?” His eyes snap up, glancing at the gleaming rock on your finger.

“Yeah.” You blush, covering the ring self-consciously.

“I just read an article in the New England Journal of Medicine about the work Gilead’s spearheading. It’s an exciting time in medicine.”

“Sam will happy to hear that.” You try to move on from the niceties to the issue at hand, closing your eyes as pain bubbles up from your gut.

“I’m surprised you’re here. You don’t have a personal physician? And you're alone?”

“My doctor couldn’t see me until tomorrow and I didn’t want to worry Sam unless I know something’s wrong. I didn’t think I should wait, though.”

“Smart.” He smiles. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re fine. No bleeding?”

“No, I just feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. The cramping comes and goes.”

“It’s not uncommon.” He places a hand on your arm. “Lay back for me.”

You stare at the ceiling as he gently presses on different areas of your stomach, asking about abdominal tenderness while making small talk.

There’s a knock on the door and a nurse enters the room, handing him a tablet. He reads the screen, forehead furrowing.

“The doctor you’ve been seeing, Dr. Johnson, she never mentioned you have low progesterone levels?”

“No,” You sit up, unease tightening in your chest. “Is something wrong?”

“I didn’t say that.” He shakes his head. “We’re going to do an ultrasound, just to be on the safe side.”

After a few minutes, there’s a cart wheeled into the room. One nurse is joined by two more as the doctor squirts gel onto your stomach, all four pairs of eyes silently glued to a screen you can’t see.

Dr. Tuttle clears his throat, mouth tightening. It doesn’t take a genius to gage the confused reactions of the medical team.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, tears pooling. “Did I lose my baby?”

“No.” The doctor removes the wand from your stomach. “I can’t discuss this any further with you. I have to speak with your Alpha-”

“Are you kidding me?” You’ve reached the end of your rope with this shit. This is your body, your child and you want to know now. “Tell me what’s going on, I have a right to know.”

Dr. Tuttle takes a breath, “Can I have the room please.”

“Please just tell me.” Wiping tears you wait in terrified anticipation until it’s only the two of you in the room.

“I shouldn’t do a pelvic exam without the consent of your Alpha. I could get in trouble. But I feel in this case I need to make an exception.”

“Why are you telling me that?”

“Because I need to do one. Right now.”

“This doesn’t feel right, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“I don’t want to say anything else until I have more information.” He looks you dead in the eyes. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

“Great.” You close your eyes, trying not to sob. “Why not.”

There’s an ultimate humiliation in not having power over your own body. You lie on the table, feet in stirrups and an arm hooked over your eyes, as the doctor performs an examination. It’s almost twenty minutes before he’s finishing poking and probing. You listen to the sickening sound of him snapping off rubber gloves.

“We’re done.” He gently places a hand on your arm, using the other to pull you into a sitting position. His face is grim, looking at you like he’s truly sorry for what he’s about to say.

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“You’re not pregnant.” He states calmly.

The air feels thick like you can’t get enough into your lungs to take a full breath. There’s a numbness that starts in your head and descends over your entire body as you sit and stare at Dr. Tuttle, expressionless.

“Did, um, did I do something wrong?” You ask, the words falling out of your mouth on autopilot. “Is this my fault?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You were never pregnant.”

“I don’t understand.” Never pregnant. It’s too much, too confusing and your brain can’t process what he’s telling you. “But I…”

“You have high levels of estrogen, extremely low progesterone and a synthetic version of hCG that showed up in your tox screen. It’s tricked your body into pseudocyesis. It mimics all the symptoms associated with a normal pregnancy. Swollen belly, breast tenderness, nausea, and weight gain. In some cases even the feeling of fetal movement. You wouldn’t have known the difference. But I can say with a hundred percent certainty that you have never been pregnant.”

You stare at him, unable to move or speak, the gravity of this revelation setting in.

“But I-I saw a heartbeat. I saw my baby.”

“Whatever you saw, it wasn’t your pregnancy.” He takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is unconventional, I shouldn’t even be telling you this. I have to call your Alpha.”

“Okay.” You’re still, focused on the wall. You can’t think anymore. If you let yourself feel it’ll be too much, so instead you shut down. “I need to go.”

“I think you should stay. We’ll call your Alpha, maybe we can all sit down together-”

“No.” You discard your gown in front of him, nudity is your last concern as you search for your jeans. “Thank you, but I need to go home now.”

Sam’s phone vibrates in his pocket for the third time in five minutes. He checks it again, it’s a number he doesn’t recognize so he hits the mute button.

“You need to take that?” John leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the shareholders presentation that’s currently in progress.

“I don’t know.” Sam grimaces as a fourth call comes in. “I think I better.”

Stepping into the hallways he answers, already annoyed. “Winchester.”

“Sam Winchester?” The voice is male and unfamiliar.

“The one and only. Who is this?”

“My name is doctor Tuttle, I’m a physician at New York Presbyterian.”

Sam’s heart drops into this stomach.

“What’s wrong?” He’s sweating before the question is finished.

“Your Omega came in today, I treated her for what I thought were pregnancy-related symptoms.”

“Is she alright?” He takes off toward his office, breaking into a run. He just needs his car keys. “Is something wrong with our baby?”

“She’s fine, but I do have some pretty unsettling news, Mr. Winchester. I think it’s best if you come here so we can speak in person.”

“I’m on my way.”

Twenty minutes later Sam’s sitting in a small office with lime green walls, listening as he’s told that his entire world has been a lie.

She was never pregnant. It appears to be a chemical induced pregnancy.

The words rattle around in his head. The doctor keeps talking, the hospital legal counsel sitting in the corner taking notes.

“How is this possible?” Sam can feel the rage boiling in his veins. You’ve been lying to him all this time, it’s the only explanation. “She had an ultrasound, I was there.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that a woman has faked a pregnancy.” The lawyer speaks up. “You’d be surprised what people will agree to do for a little bit of cash.”

“I’m not entirely convinced that’s the case.” Dr. Tuttle speaks up. “She came in knowing we’d run tests, all it took was a blood screen and an ultrasound to determine she wasn’t pregnant. And her reactions appeared to be genuine. I tried to get her to stay, to wait for you, but she insisted on leaving.”

“I haven’t been able to reach her.” Sam runs a hand over his mouth. There’s a pressure building in his chest, starting to make it hard to breathe “I need to get out of here.”

He tried to call you several times on his way to the hospital but your phone is turned off. He left Donna a message but he didn’t know who else to call. You’re unreachable and his entire world is coming apart at the seams.

He sits in his car in the parking garage, key in the ignition but the car is still off. Sam can’t think straight. There are a million thoughts swirling in his brain. His eyes fall on the folder his mother handed him this morning, and he picks up, pulling out a stack of documents.

The first sheet is withdrawal history from your bank account. He hasn’t checked it since the business with Jake but the money didn't stop there. There are a series of withdrawals every month totaling around ten thousand dollars. There are two pages stapled to that one, showing charitable donations to the clinic you’ve been attending. And a deposit statement from the account of Amelia Richardson for fifteen thousand dollars.

Next is a transcript of text messages from an unlabeled number to a second number identified as Jake. It’s a series of messages that end in asking him to come to the apartment the day of the assault, along with the building address and security code.

The following page is a list of internet searches from your home IP address. Some of it’s about him, his family and then the inquiries trail off into fertility. Next, are various detailed searches regarding marriage laws and the details of financial responsibility once an Alpha marries an Omega. Then the specifics of the new drug that Sam’s been working on.

The connections begin to click together. He’s spent the last year listening to scientists explain how their cure for heat sickness works, It’s simple really. It tricks the body into thinking it’s pregnant. It can’t be a coincidence. There’s no way.

The next page is a series of photos. The first two of are you coming and going from the clinic.

In the third, you’re sitting alone at a table in a cafe. Directly behind is a young blonde, it takes Sam a moment to place her. It’s the ultrasound technician. In the following photo, the girl is gone and you’re joined by Donna. There’s a handwritten note in the margins that reads withdrawal of a thousand same day - pay off?

Next is a surveillance shot of you and Amelia in a hallway at Gilead, you’re talking about something and there’s a note, a reference back to your bank withdrawal and the corresponding deposit into Amelia’s account.

The final photo makes his heart stop. It’s different than the rest and there’s a Post It that says found in Jake’s apartment. It’s from four or five years ago at a charity event. Sam and Dean are front and center, arms around each other’s shoulders. Sam remembers that night well, they both drank too much and ended up flying to Vegas at 3 am. But behind Dean is your image, a younger version of you dressed in a caterer’s uniform, holding a tray of champagne, staring at the back of Sam’s head.

The last page is the name of a divorce lawyer, Rouel Felder, and grainy photos of you leaving his office. Felder is ruthless, he’s represented everyone from Rudolph Giuliani to David Gest.

There’s a handwritten synopsis from the investigator.

It is my personal opinion, based on these facts, that the subject has engaged in ongoing deception regarding her pregnancy and her relationship with Jake Livingston. I believe the subject new that J. Livingston had photos of her contact with S. Winchester prior to their most recent meeting and that the subject cultivated the situation that lead to the death of J. Livingston at the hands of her Alpha.

The picture is clear. You’ve had an agenda from the beginning, this has all been one long, elaborate con designed to get him to marry you.

He opens the door of his car just in time to vomit on the cement. He wipes his mouth with his tie, before yanking it off his neck, tossing it on the ground of the parking garage. There’s a moment when he can’t see straight, his vision blurring as a sickening combination of anger and betrayal rises up.

He punches the steering column a half dozen times, not stopping until his knuckles bleed, but what he really wants is to punch a hole in the windshield. He’s about to really lose it when his phone vibrates and Donna’s name scrolls across the screen.

“I got your voicemail.” Donna quips as soon as he picks up. “I haven’t heard from her. Is something going on-”

“Did you fucking know?” Sam snarls, gripping the phone so tight his fingers turn white. “Have you two been laughing behind my back?”

“You’re gonna need to take a chill pill, buddy.” Donna shoots back. “You might be used to talking to other people like that, but not me.”

“I know what she’s been doing.” He hits the horn of the car with a closed fist.

“Care to share? Because I don’t have a freakin’ clue what you’re talking about.”

“This whole thing was a setup. The sob story about her parents, getting me to take out Jake and a baby that doesn’t fucking exist.”

“Are you drunk?” She asks flatly. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

“I’m so sick of people lying to me!” Sam lashes out, he wants to hurt someone, the rage bubbling up inside him has almost reached its breaking point. “I trusted her.”

“I still have no clue what you’re talking about but you need to take a breath.” She replies calmly.

“I’m talking about Y/N being this whole other person...I was so blind.”

“Stop.” Donna commands and Sam bristles. “Whatever happened you need to stop. This is the kind of crazy shit I warned her about. I told her you’d be bad for her..”

“Me?” Sam snorts in disbelief. “Bad for her?”

“Yeah, your crazy family has had it out for her since you two hooked up. I don’t know what happened but what I do know is that if you think she’s lied or betrayed you somehow, then you really are just a self-absorbed asshole. She’s put herself out there over and over again just to be with you, and now you’re talking like she’s some kind of criminal or something? Have you actually taken the time to get to know her? Because if you had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Sam’s silent.

“You don’t deserve her.” She spits. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to find my friend and figure what the hell is going on. It sounds like she probably needs someone to be there for her, and it sure as hell isn’t you.”

He’s calmed down and he’s got a plan. He’s going to remain collected and confront you with the facts. Show you the photos and the documents and ask for your side the story. The more he thinks about Donna’s words the more he knows she’s right.

This isn’t you. He’s an idiot for thinking anything else.

He can believe a lot of terrible things about almost anyone, but not you. Maybe he’s blinded by his love for you, or maybe it’s just your bond but he can’t imagine that the situation is what is appears to be.

Sam can hear it the minute the door opens. Your cries are audible from the living room and he follows the sound to find you sitting in the middle of the bedroom floor, sobbing into your hands.

He doesn’t understand much about what’s happening, but the moment he sees you he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you had no idea. There’s no faking this kind of despair.

“Y/N.” He says softly from the doorway and you let out a howl, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself, rocking back and forth on the floor. Gasping through the tears he can hear you struggling to breathe, you’re hyperventilating.

“Hey,” he sits on the floor, scooting closer, pulling you between his legs to wrap himself around you.

“I c-can’t b-breathe.” You sputter, gasping like a fish on dry land.

“Yes, you can.” Sam wants to cry too, but his emotional outbursts are the last thing you need right now. This moment is the greatest test of his ability to be an Alpha and he’s not about to let you down, not again, not after everything. “Breathe with me. Come on, in...out...in...out.”

He takes exaggerated breaths so you easily feel the rhythm of his body, each inhale and exhale is measured and slow until you calm down enough to find the pace on your own. But as soon as the panic attack passes your tears come back, gut-wrenching sobs that crush Sam’s heart.

“I don’t understand. I could feel our baby.” You howl. “I could feel it inside me but it was never there.”

“I know.” He kisses your head, rocking with you in his arms.

“I-I didn’t w-want it and then I fell in love with the idea of-” You can’t finish.

For a long time, neither of you say a word, you just cry for nearly an hour until you’re too physically exhausted to shed another tear. Even after the crying stops, he holds you as the minutes tick by and you lie limply in his arms.

“We’re gonna find out what happened. I promise you.”

“I don't care.” You whisper, utterly defeated. “I want my baby.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispers, a tear sliding down his cheek. “We’ll have a baby. As soon as you want, whenever you’re ready.”

“I don’t think I can.” You grip his arms, holding on like some unseen force might try to pull you away from him. “My heart is too broken.”

Part Nine is currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

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#TTWDBI #Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader #sam winchester x reader #alpha!sam winchester

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bluebellhairpin · 5 years

Text

The Unusual Canvases

Kyoya Ootori X Artist!Reader

A/N: The reader’s been turned into a bit of a street-artist. I do hope you don’t mind. (And I haven’t read the manga, so I’m winging the whole ‘America’ thing.) - Nemo

Request: Hello are you still doing requests? If you are, can I please have a Kyoya Ootori one-shot or mini series with him falling for an artist? You know how everyone goes to America at the end of the manga? I would love for them to meet there! I like your writing so I'm excited to see if you can do this. - Anon

Summary: After the whole ‘Tamaki leaving the Host Club’ deal, everyone decided to take some time off. What better way then to go to America? While there Kyoya took off to find a renowned Artist who lived in the area. What he didn’t expect was to find them working on an artwork in an alleyway. Who knew walls were the best and biggest canvases? You, apparently. However both you and Kyoya find that painting each others hearts is art that really lasts forever.

Masterlist

Kyoya didn’t actually want to go to America. He’d rather of been doing something else - anything else - but yet here he was; looking down at the buildings of New York City through a floor-to-ceiling window wondering what he was supposed to do for the next week and a half.

Haruhi was being dragged around the city by Tamaki, the twins following purely to annoy Tamaki and not give him alone time with Haruhi. Mori and Honey were going around and visiting all the bakeries and cafe’s that were worth visiting. Neither option interested Kyoya, especially since he’d already spent a day with each group and found it all rather boring.

He held an iPad in his hand, looking down at the list of things he could be doing, and only one really caught his attention.

He soon set off, making his way further downtown in order to find the person he was after, and once the buildings started shrinking, and the alleys started filling up with graffiti and street art, he decided to get out of the car and walk the rest of the way.

The door to the studio was in sight, he was so close, but the alarmingly loud noise of a Panic! At The Disco song made him slightly loose his composure, before a giggle then reached his ears.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it - I swear - but your face was priceless!” The owner of the voice said, still giggling as you moved to turn the volume of the speakers down. You looked over at him, a bit of blue paint smeared just under your right eye, and the white shirt they wore was almost completely colored-in with paint.

“You’re the artist who owns Ingenuity. The place around the corner. Aren’t you?” Kyoya asked, looking over at you as you lean down to pick up a small-tipped brush in place of your spray gun.

“You’re a quick one.”

“I have to be, I live around idiots most of the time.” You let out a laugh again as you stepped up onto the scaffold to start working again. A few moments passed as you started detailing your work; it was your biggest yet.

“So what brought you here?” You called down to him, only half-focused on him, which was something that he wasn’t very used to.

“I’ve seen your artworks online. I liked them and wanted to meet you in person.” He said, stepping back to lean on the wall behind him.

He finally got a good look at what you were working on; a mural of many different sorts of plants; very colorful, very exotic, and very big. He rather liked it.

“Ah, so you stalked me?” He could tell he liked you already.

He payed you a visit every day for the next week, and before you knew it he only had three more days before he had to go back home. Meaning you only had three days to start your next mural and finish it so he could see.

It had only been a week, but he had already infatuated you beyond words. He told you a lot about himself, even the part about how he only did things for his own gain, but you soon found that that was a lie; he just told himself that to make him think he was as tough as his brothers. But in short, he had found a place in your heart, and when he left, you’d miss his visits an awful lot.

Kyoya found you interesting, quirky, witty. At first that was all it was, but then he got to know you. You soon became a ray of hope in his life, something bright and something to look forward to; he hadn’t had that in a while. He wanted to take you back to Japan with him, if you wanted to come, just so he could spend more time with you. He’d miss you an awful lot.

You had been working on your mural to Kyoya on the back wall of your studio. The wall was usually behind a curtain anyway, so he wouldn’t even notice it had been started or finished until you showed him; exactly how you wanted.

“You do like painting on walls, don’t you?” He said, wandering into your studio for his visit; you’d finished the painting outside a day ago, and had started another new one inside to cover for your surprise for Kyoya.

“I do.” You laughed. “There’s more space on walls. That way I don’t have the edge of a canvas to constrict my creativity.” You explained, still smiling as you worked on the fur of the lions mane.

“‘Constrict.’ You wouldn’t have used that word a week ago.” He said and moved to sit on the sofa in the corner to watch you work.

“You weren’t here to give me such a bad influence a week ago.” You quipped back with a smirk, looking back at him to catch his look before going back to work. You’d gotten more quick-witted since he started visiting too.

“Well,” he started, grabbing a paintbrush and beginning to toy with it’s bristles. “Know that when I leave again I will annoy you still. I have got your phone number now, and the time zones would surely mess with you more.” He said, and you smiled at the thought he could still remember you after going back to his life of luxury.

“You really do plan to torment me for the rest of eternity, huh?” You say and fully turn to softly smile at him.

“If you’ll let me, it would be my honour.”

“You’re using your ‘host’ words again. You promised not to.” You playfully scolded, walking over to tap his head with the clean end of your paintbrush.

“Those words aren’t ‘host’ words. They’re no lie or flattery. They are the truth.” Kyoya wasn’t good with emotions anyway, that much you’d learnt in the short time you’d known him, but you were very good at telling when someone was lying to you; he was really speaking the truth this time.

“You’re so precious.” You said, leaning down and giving his forehead a quick kiss before backing off to wash your paintbrush, leaving Kyoya a little bit stunned.

“What was that?”

“A kiss, dummy.”

“Obviously. I don’t ask stupid questions (y/n). What I mean was why.” As he spoke you casually wandered over to the back wall and the curtain that hid your gift to him. He also abruptly stood to come walk over to you, just encase you said something too quite for him to each back at the couch.

“Here.” You said, pulling back the deep red fabric to reveal a half-finished portrait. You made it so it looked like him, but not if you’d never seen him before; to a stranger he would just look like a model used for the artwork, to anyone who knew him it’d definitely mean something more than that. “Does that explain anything?” You said with a light giggle; his face was so priceless, you’d never seen so many emotions show by one person before.

“It’s amazing. But missing something.” He said as his face gained it’s natural look back.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Well, how can I look so beautiful if you’re not in the painting with me?” He asked smugly and smiled down at you.

“You idiot! I thought you were going to give me real criticism!” You yelled and tried shoving him into the chair beside him, failing as you only managed to move him a couple steps towards the chair instead,.

“Hey,” He started between laughs, “It is real cririsism, I’m about as tough of a judge as you can get.”

“Don’t hurt yourself with your narcissism Kyoya. I could wash it all off if’d your prefer.” You joked.

“Please don’t, I quite like the idea of my face being so close to you even after I go.”

#kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya ootori #kyoya ootori imagine #kyoya ootori one shot #ouran high school host club x reader #ohshc x reader

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taexual · 6 years

Text

HOLIC - 8 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: some strong language + angst

words: 3.1k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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Work was awful. It tended to be this way on Tuesdays because that was usually the day when so-called high-class socialites swarmed to art galleries to purchase pieces that’d make their guests think they knew anything about art, and, on top of that, crowds of artists and photographers gathered here, trying to get meetings with every possible staff member, wanting their work exhibited here. But today was bad even by those standards.

At first, the iPad you usually used stopped working. You were informed that they were doing maintenance on the servers today but you didn’t expect the entire system to crash on you just when a particularly pompous woman asked you for more information about one of the photographers whose works she’d enjoyed at the exhibition last week.

You told her the name but she wanted more details that you couldn’t provide her with because no matter what you pressed on the damn tablet, it would only display errors.

“I’m very sorry,” you said, feeling cold sweat wash over you. An epic escalation was awaiting, you could feel it. “We’re having some technical difficulties today, if you could just wait a moment, I—”

“I think I’ve waited enough,” she responded in a thundering voice that almost made you flinch. “I came to an art gallery to buy something from you, did I not? Why am I being forced to wait when I’m not even sure I want to invest in this… artwork, at all.”

Already having learned to be patient with similar snobby attitudes, you gave her an apologetic smile.

“My apologies, ma’am, this should be fixed soon and then I can answer all questions you might have about the photographer,” you said and then tried to get rid of her by sending her to a floor you didn’t work at, “in the meanwhile, could I interest you in the photography exhibition on the second floor? The theme is—”

“I could not care less,” she cut you off again. You understood her irritation so you could forgive her for not really listening to you, but, Jesus Christ, did she have to yell? Her loud voice echoed all through the gallery. “Find me someone who can answer my questions immediately. Or better yet, find me the manager. I refuse to be treated with disrespect by incompetent staff members.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” you said, hating the endless apologies that passed your lips. You wondered if she could tell they were fake. “My manager is the owner of the gallery and he is, unfortunately, away on a business trip. I can direct you to my supervisor, though, if you’d like.”

“You better do that,” she responded, crossing her arms over her chest and nearly scratching herself with the huge, sharp-edged rings on all of her fingers. “And don’t give me attitude. I will not tolerate that.”

You didn’t realize that explaining the hierarchy of the gallery – since she was so eager to talk to someone higher up – was a form of giving her attitude, but, for the sake of not getting kicked out for bad customer service, you nodded wordlessly and guided her across the gallery to where Eva, your supervisor, was having a conversation with one of the new photographers, whose exhibition the gallery was preparing for.

“Eva,” you said, not bothering to address her in a formal way. She wasn’t much older than you and the two of you spent so much time together at work that neither of you bothered with the formalities anymore. “There’s a snobby woman ten steps behind me. She is a nightmare. The system crashed, so I can’t help her, and now she wants to talk to you.”

Eva bit her lip, not particularly happy to be dragged away from the photographer – you tried to get a look at him, but he had turned away, watching the paintings around him instead, while he waited for Eva to give him her attention again.

“Could you keep her occupied for just one moment?” she asked. “I’ll be with her in a second. I’m kind of busy right now.”

“She is a nightmare,” you repeated, emphasizing the word for more effect. “I’m sure she’ll sue us if we don’t accommodate to her wishes right away.”

Eva groaned.

“I swear this is the tenth time this had happened in the past few weeks,” she said, after excusing herself from the photographer, who – aside from being very attractive – was a lot kinder than the snotty, problematic woman. “It’s time the staff here grew some balls. You, included, by the way. It would really take some weight off my shoulders if you just found a way to deal with her without getting me involved.”

Eva – probably – didn’t mean it personally but you took offense. You couldn’t exactly intimidate the woman with your status in the gallery and she wasn’t listening to anything you tried to tell her. On top of that, her loud voice truly gave you the chills. You felt bad for her children if she had any.

Confused what to do with yourself now that you were subtly scolded, you glanced at the photographer next to you, nodded at him as a way to excuse yourself as well – Eva hadn’t asked you to keep him company, after all, and you really wanted to get out of here, anyway – and then headed to the staff room to finally inhale.

The system still wasn’t fixed when your workday came to an end and you were forced to stay up later to help the IT team test out the updates they’d attempted to install after finishing with the maintenance. They had you walk around the gallery and scan the names of the photographs and the paintings while they checked if the system recognized the names and provided the user of the program with all the information about the artwork possible.

You knew this would make your job easier in the long run, but you were completely not in the mood to spend the whole night at the gallery, hence all of the complaining the IT team had to endure from you – they got their revenge on you by constantly criticizing the way you used the tablet, though, and that didn’t really help your self-esteem.

You ended up getting home three hours later than usual and, naturally, feeling three times more exhausted and upset than usual, too. To be honest, you just wanted to jump into the shower – which, you weren’t sure if you’d even enjoy – and then go to sleep. But, aside from not knowing if the hot water was back or not – Jaebum was on the phone with someone when you got home and you haven’t parted on a good note anyway, so you didn’t ask – you also realized you had no idea if the sheets on the mattress in your room were fresh or not. You had initially planned to sleep here because you weren’t in the mood to spend another night in Jaebum’s room, no matter how comfortable his bed was, but he did have sex here last night.

Groaning because you just couldn’t relax today, you walked out of the bedroom and saw Jaebum walking out of his at the same time.

“Did you change the—”

“I called the—”

Both of you had started to talk at the same time and both stopped, watching each other for a moment or two.

“You go,” you told him then. If he had something offensive to say to you, you’d rather get it over with faster so you could spend the rest of the night sulking. You’d planned to do that anyway.

“I, uh, I called the maintenance,” he said. “They said they’ll be here on Friday at best but Monday for sure.”

You closed your eyes. “That’s next week.”

“I know,” Jaebum said. When you opened your eyes, you saw him bite his lip while avoiding your gaze.

God, you could feel an outburst coming but you made no attempts to stop it. Maybe a part of you thought he deserved to hear it after being the cause of your inner misery ever since you moved in here.

“I’ve never had a roommate before,” you said and waited until he dared to look you in the eyes. “But, I swear, you are the worst imaginable roommate in the world.”

“W-wh—”

“You shut the fucking hot water off! And why? To get back at me for getting your water bottles out of the fridge,” you were louder now. “Well, guess fucking what? You can fix the damage I’ve done within an hour the most – your stupid water can get cold again. But you—you do shit without thinking about the consequences, you broke my—”

“I let you sleep in my room!” Jaebum cut you off, your aggression brushing off on him as he threw his hands in the air. “I tried to make it up to you for that.��

“I left you no choice the first night,” you disagreed. “And it doesn’t even matter. Does it look like I want to sleep in your room? I’m sort of left with no other option since I still don’t have a proper bed.”

He was going to object – the first syllables of his counter-argument were already at the tip of his tongue – but then you pushed past him into his bedroom. There was no point in asking him if he’d changed the sheets of your bed. You weren’t going to sleep there.

“But since you’re obviously so kind to me,” you said, glancing at him over your shoulder one more time. “I’ll be sleeping here again.”

He was taken aback for a moment after you slammed the door of his bedroom in his face – if he wasn’t so angry, he’d have admitted: this was a real power move – but then he tried knocking. Gently at first, but harsher after you didn’t react and didn’t open the door.

“Jesus, I’ll fix your damn bed!” he yelled at you through the door. “Just lose the fucking attitude and talk to me like a normal person. I was trying to be nice to you.”

The attitude, again. First, the rich, snobby bitch at the gallery insisted you gave her attitude for just doing your job. Then Eva countered by saying you don’t even have an attitude at all, or else she wouldn’t have to do your job for you. And now Jaebum was accusing you of the same thing even though you just told him the truth; not in a particularly nice way, but you had to put it out there.

After you simmered down, though, – while staring at the books piled by the wall in front of Jaebum’s bed for a whole hour, – you realized that if you hadn’t let the comments made at work get to you this badly, you wouldn’t have bitten Jaebum’s head off. Maybe he deserved that for all of the snarky comments he’d said and the things he’d done, but he was truly trying to have a normal conversation with you today, so maybe you should have been more understanding.

Sure, you’ve argued with him this morning – it got kind of bad, really – but you were still forced to live him and being civil with each other would have surely made this experience appear less like a torture.

Or maybe, another part of your brain disagreed, you should have truly let him know that he was not going to get away with everything by just being nice to you. Maybe you should have slapped him, too, for more effect.

As two sides of your brain gnawed at each other, arguing about what you should have done and said, you heard another knock on the door of the bedroom. It didn’t take a genius to guess who was behind the door, but you still hesitated before opening it because you weren’t sure how to act.

You did feel guilty about the outburst in the hallway. You’d always been a firm believer that the best way to resolve any issue was to have a calm discussion about it; it’s just that sometimes, you acted before you allowed yourself to think.

Maybe you’d feel better with yourself if you didn’t yell at Jaebum after you opened the door. So, you just stared at him.

He stared back, truly having expected you to scream at him. He had prepared what to say to you but he forgot all of that when you just looked at him, no words leaving your lips.

“Uh…” he said, lifting the plate in his hands slightly. “I brought cupcakes.”

Not having expected that – the two of you were now, clearly, involved in a wordless fight which one could surprise the other one better, – you looked down at the chocolate treats on the plate in his hands. “So you have. Are those the ones Lily brought over?”

You had moved away from the door slightly – Jaebum wasn’t sure if you did that consciously, though – and he slipped into the room. After you didn’t object against him being in your personal space – even though, technically, this room was his – he nodded with a small smile.

“I hadn’t slept with her when she brought them, though,” he said, putting the plate on the bed and sitting down next to it. “So, I’m sure they’re not poisoned.”

You let out a sound that was a mix between a sigh and a chuckle and sat down on the other side of the plate. You didn’t feel like talking about the way he’d handled everything with Lily. Actually, you couldn’t even remember why you were so upset about it, in the first place. Jaebum and Lily’s relationship – or lack thereof – wasn’t really your business. Maybe you’d allowed your personal feelings to get in the way and that’s why you yelled at him this morning. And this afternoon.

Both of you took a cupcake off the plate each and, after unwrapping it, began to eat. You stayed quiet for the most part, but when the cupcakes were halfway finished, you sighed again.

“Sorry for bursting out like that when I got home,” you said, choosing to only apologize for the most recent fight. A small part of you still considered Jaebum worthy of the harsh words you’ve said to him after Lily had left. “I had a long day at work.”

Jaebum nodded as a way of accepting your apology but didn’t make a big deal out of it, asking instead, “what happened?”

“It wasn’t… I guess it wasn’t truly horrible,” you said. “I’m just sensitive to that sort of stuff, maybe. I can’t be myself when I work – I’m not sure anyone can – so that means I can’t stand up for myself, either. I just have to let the visitors and even my superiors walk over me.”

“Yeah, that sucks,” Jaebum nodded. “You have to put up with every degrading thing they say if you want to keep the job.”

“Exactly.”

“I laughed mid-track at my station today,” he said then and you looked at him, curiously. “I didn’t realize the mic was on when I was reading a text on my phone during one of the songs, and I just burst into laughter before a part of me went, oh, but wait… I don’t remember pressing the button.”

You tried to gasp but just the image he put in your mind made you chuckle. “Did you boss realize?”

“No, he wasn’t working today, thank God,” he said, smiling, too, now that this got you to laugh however softly. “I would have been fired for sure. He’s a no-bullshit sort of fellow.”

“I’d have loved to hear that, though,” you said. “What time is your show?”

You already knew Jaebum worked at a radio station because he’d mentioned that during one of your late-night conversations back when you still thought he was a girl, and he thought you were a guy. He never elaborated much – and you didn’t really push – so you found yourself rather excited to find out a little more about him. He was starting to feel like Def to you again.

“Two to four,” he said, explaining why he was still at home most mornings. “It’s this really uncomfortable time because most people are already done with lunch but not done with their work day yet, so no one really listens to the radio at this time.”

“What do you do there?” you asked. “I mean, what is your show about?”

“Up-and-coming artists,” he said, sounding unusually sad. “They’re not really that, though. I just basically play underrated songs that no one knows. People send them to me – well, not to me, personally, but to the radio station – and I pick the ones I like the most and play them. It takes me a while to get through all the Soundcloud mixtapes we get sent, but I don’t mind. I don’t get to talk a lot during the show.”

“I can imagine how many days you make by doing this,” you said and Jaebum gave you a confused look, so you explained, “well, I think when someone hears their song on an actual radio, they really lose their shit, you know what I mean? It doesn’t matter to them what time the radio show is on. They’re just excited to hear their song playing and they’re probably very grateful to whoever chose it. You’re the reason for their happiness.”

“Huh,” Jaebum looked away from you, a slight rosy shade adorning his cheeks. “I-I forget that sometimes. The job—it’s all mechanical. I listen to music without thinking much of the artist, but you know what? You’re right. If it was my song playing there, I’d be losing my shit as you put it.”

You snickered at that but then an idea hit you. “Why don’t you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Play your own song at the radio,” you said, reminding him – and yourself, too – that the two of you knew more about each other than you had pretended to know for the sake of acting as hateful roommates to each other. You weren’t really complete strangers to each other, after all.

“Oh, man, no,” he shook his head, his eyes scanning the room wildly for a way to change the topic. He was like this when it came to his music. He refused to talk about it overly much over texts but he was even worse in real life. “Anyway, I came here to make amends and maybe make you feel better about your day at work. Shocking, yeah? But, look what happened: it’s you comforting me.”

You laughed. “Get out of my room before we actually bond.”

He laughed at this, too, but then stopped, “oh, well, technically, this is my room.”

“Oh, I’m not going back to sleep in my room,” you said. “You had sex there, that mattress is… marked.”

“Oh, God,” he visibly cringed at your choice of wording. “I changed the sheets, I’m not some animal.”

You chuckled, but your mind was starting to wander. Now that you’d finished eating Lily’s cupcakes and the topic switched to Jaebum and Lily’s previous activities, you couldn’t help but remember Jaebum’s scared face when you told him a girl had been knocking on your door.

And then, before you could think twice about it, you asked, “hey. Remember, the other day, when Lily first came over?”

“Yeah?”

“When I told you that there was a girl behind the door, your face kind of…” you couldn’t find a way to describe it properly but Jaebum seemed to understand what you were getting at as he looked away, his face paling slightly again. “Uh, what was that about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s nothing,” he tried to dismiss it. “I just… for a moment, I thought it could have been my ex-girlfriend. She’d reached out to me recently but I didn’t reply and I thought she might have found where I lived.”

Oh, this was loaded. You didn’t know Jaebum had a clearly problematic ex, but, more than that, you had no idea she was trying to get back together with him and he was, evidently, terrified of that. There was so much you wanted to ask him but before you opened your mouth, he stood up from the bed, taking the empty plate with him.

“Anyway,” he said in a somewhat forceful way as if he was letting you know that you weren’t going to discuss this topic further. “I’m going to go to bed. Well, your bed. You sleep here.”

You tried to smile despite the change of topic. “You don’t mind that?”

“No,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I don’t.”

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