#whenever i get board and pull my notebook out of my bag and a pen or whatever and i start sketching a horse i feel like anold timey soldier

[1gramofquinn]

i love to sketch and to draw and to create . so fun

#.talk #whenever i get board and pull my notebook out of my bag and a pen or whatever and i start sketching a horse i feel like anold timey soldier #who has a horse named bloom back home or whatever that he is like obsessed with #but he got drafted so hes sad and sketching it in his. army tent. #sorry that doesnt make any sense but you get what i mean!!!!!!!!

[hajiimes]

purple hydrangeas

pairing: suna rintarou x gn!reader tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, hanahaki au warnings: mentions of blood, surgery, and hospitals word count: 1.4k author's note: if this looks familiar at all that's cuz it's a repost from my previous blog (also hajiimes) from like 2-3 years ago lolol !! i revamped it and am reposting it here :D i'm sorry i was gone for so long it's been a wild time lol

masterlist

There’s a tickle in your throat and pain in your lungs. It’s been there for quite a while, so long that you’ve already forgotten what it felt like without the petals clogging up your lungs. You look at him, so unreadable, so unreachable . No one had told you that falling in love would hurt so much. 

It’s silly, you tell yourself. Childish. Dumb. Foolish. First love, a deadly fate. 

Suna Rintarou sits to your left in school and you cast glances at him whenever you’re sure that he’s paying more attention to doodling in his notebook than you. In your observations, you learn that Suna Rintarou dog-ears the pages of his textbooks to save his spot. You learn that he chews on the eraser at the end of his pencil when he thinks, leaving small indents in it when he pulls away to write. You learn that more often than not, Suna spends class time drumming his fingers on his desk, idly staring out the window instead of paying attention to the board. 

Suna isn’t the type to forget any pens or pencils, but he always forgets to bring extra paper. You couldn’t count the number of times he’d leaned over the aisle separating the two of you to ask for a sheet of paper, to which you’d happily obliged every time—always willing to lend a helping hand. Those reluctant smiles he sent you out of gratitude always seemed to brighten your day.

Honestly, it’s no surprise that you developed Hanahaki. 

He makes small jokes under his breath about classwork, little quips he doesn’t think anyone can hear. He offers you a pen whenever you forget one, accompanied with a small note stating ‘Give it back when you’re done’ wrapped around it. You end up keeping those notes, stuffing them between spare pages of your textbooks and notebooks. 

Suna is a boy of few words, but when he speaks you find yourself hooked on every one of them. Your friends call it puppy love. They call it a little kid’s crush. They tell you that in a month you’ll forget all about it and move on to some other guy. 

You don’t tell them that you probably won’t make it another month. 

The coughing fits become more and more frequent, each one right after the other. They get worse during school, during those hours when you’re near him. Purple petals litter your desk and pile into your hands, but you just discard them into your school bag with reckless abandon. 

Your friends approach you to ask if you’re okay. An easy, practiced smile stretches across your face and you wave them off like nothing is wrong. You tell them as much, you just have bad allergies! Nobody mentions that it’s not allergy season. You think it’s either out of mercy or pity that they leave you alone after that. 

Sometimes you think you can see Suna looking at you during class when you’re trying to discretely spit petals in cupped hands, but you always brush it off as a trick of the light. You think you can feel his eyes on you when you’re talking to your friends, watching as you carefully place your hands over the stray petals you forgot to brush off the desk. You smile and wave off your friends’ concerns like you always do. 

He never speaks up, never says anything about how your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

Suna goes on with his life like nothing is wrong, pretending he doesn’t see you cough up purple petals into your hands out of the corner of his eye during third-period math. He pretends that he doesn’t see you each day in his peripherals, too preoccupied with your own impending demise to worry about the functions written out on the whiteboard. 

Even though things have changed so drastically for you, Suna stays the same.

You learn that he mumbles out the words when he’s reading something. You learns that he bounces his leg underneath the desk when you’re taking a test. You learns that he’s quiet, but that doesn’t mean he’s shy. When his friend—Miya Osamu, from the volleyball team—is around, he’s much more talkative than usual. You learn that he drops his bag on his desk loudly every day to wake himself up in the morning, the slamming of the books in the bag waking you up in turn.

It’s cruel, you think to yourself in those selfish moments you allow yourself to consider him between the last toll of the school bell and the beginning of club activities, watching as Suna packs his schoolbag and slings it carelessly over his shoulder. He spares you one single glance, his lips a flat line as he makes a beeline past his peers lingering at their desks and heads out the classroom door. You watch Suna walk away like he always does, sparing you a single merciful glance as you dump the last of the school day’s purple hydrangeas into the trash. It’s cruel that he doesn’t know the effect he has on you.

It’s getting worse. 

Your parents beg you to tell them who it is, and how they can stop it from happening. They offer to switch your school, to pull you from club activities, to move prefectures if it helps. Your mom begs you to consider surgery; she pleads that you’re too young to die like this. You don’t care—you would rather die in love than live without it. 

Each day you live with the disease is a day your body grows weaker and weaker. Your body runs cold and your head feels heavy every moment you has to hold it up. Your teachers, luckily, are merciful. They don’t say anything when you rest your head in class—they know your situation all too well. You can feel the pitying glances they send you during breaks and passing periods, their stares burning into the back of your head. 

It comes upon you suddenly, like a summer storm, during history class. Bile and flowers rest in your throat and, without a word, you excuse youself to the bathroom—just barely making it there in time.

Flowers bloom in your lungs, growing more and more until the petals fill your throat and spill out of your mouth. It hurts, you want to scream out, It hurts so much, but when you opens your mouth to speak, petals fall out in red, bloody clumps in lieu of words. You clutch at your throat and squeeze, hard, in a futile attempt to force the flowers out. 

It doesn’t work.

They find you in the second-floor school bathroom three minutes later. Petals surround you like a halo and, if it weren’t for the blood on your lips and the odd placement, one might think it’s some sort of art project. 

You remember what happened in flashes. You’re rushed to the hospital. The doctors call your parents. You’re rushed into the operating room. You fall asleep, Suna’s name on his lips. 

The flowers inside of your lungs are gone when you wakes, but a dull throbbing sits in their place. There are no flowers in the hospital room, no bouquets—something you find yourself grateful for. It’s funny somehow, the caution in which the people around you treat those silly little blossoms. It’s almost laughable, the way your family acts like you’ll break at the mere sight of a petal. Like you’re fragile.

It’s not long before you’re cleared to return to school, cleared to return to your fifth-row seat. People crowd you before class, each one asking if you’re okay, how the surgery was, and what it was like to have the disease. You wave them off with an easy smile, only saying that you’re glad to be back. 

There’s a boy who sits to your left. He holds his pencil tightly in his hand, plump pink lips wrapped around the end as he chews lightly on the eraser. His leg bounces with deep-rooted anxiety whenever you glance over at him. 

In the transition between second and third period, he passes a note with the words ‘Welcome Back’ written on it in hurried chicken scratch. You think it’s meant to be a joke. 

When you look up at the boy, you finally notice that his gray-brown eyes are watching you. You raise your eyebrows, watching as the corners of his lips turn upwards—an offering of the smallest of smiles. This classmate is familiar somehow, a creeping presence in the back of your mind. A gap in memory that should be filled, a cavity in your heart. You know that you’ve met before—it’s obvious in the way he’s looking at you. 

For some reason, you can’t remember his name.

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Unspoken

Summary: Dean is cursed with the inability to speak unless a cure can be found. It begins to wear on him in more ways than one...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language

“Stay down,” said Dean, aiming his gun at the witch.

“Why don’t you shut up,” she said, throwing something at Dean. You both shot and she was dead like that but Dean had a hand on his throat, turning to you with a bit of panic in his eyes.

“Dean!” you said, expecting him to start gasping that he couldn’t breathe but it never came. Dean only continued to claw at his throat, opening his mouth and staring at you. “What’d she do?”

You watched him move his lips and even his tongue but not a whisper came out, no sound at all. He looked like he was trying to shout but there was nothing, Dean spinning around.

“You can’t talk?” you asked, Dean nodding as he found a piece of paper and a pen, jotting something down quick.

Can breathe. No talking though. Find spellbook.

“Alright. You look down here. I’ll take upstairs.”

About an hour later, Dean was poking his head in a room, tossing a notebook at you before walking away.

Found it. Doesn’t mention anything. I dealt with the witch. I grabbed the book so let’s go home. Maybe Sam can figure it out.

“Well, I’m sure this will be an enjoyable drive home.”

“Wait. So you can’t talk?” said Sam. Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head on his hands. “Really?”

“Yes, Sam. He’s cursed or under a spell. Help me figure this out, alright?” you said. Sam held up his hands, chuckling a little. “Sam.”

“Hey, compared to the usual crap that happens to us, at least this isn’t so bad, right? It’s not trying to kill him at least,” said Sam.

Dean sighed but gave a half-hearted smile and nodded. He waved and you followed after to the library, each one of you heading off to do your own research.

Hopefully you could find a cure soon.

Four Months Later

Sam was off on another random lead that probably wouldn’t pan out. You’d managed to find a nice and easy ghost hunt but you couldn’t even drag Dean along with you. That was your rule. It was too dangerous to bring him along when he couldn’t talk. It was strange how everything around him seemed to mute. Plates didn’t make noise when they stacked together. Chairs didn’t scrape along the floor. The shower was silent whenever he took one.

He was like a ghost. Except those made sound on occasion.

“Dean. Let’s get out of the bunker, go do something fun,” you said, poking your head in your room. Dean was nowhere to be found. You checked the garage next, Baby still parked in there, no sign of him. “Dean! Where are you?”

You hoped that didn’t make him mad. He’d been having a bad week. Worse than normal which was saying something. You knew he was reaching his breaking point even if he kept it to himself.

“Dean,” you said again, wandering to your old bedroom, finding him sat on top of the bed, staring at you when you walked in. “Baby. What-”

He tossed his little whiteboard across the room and you took a seat beside him, Dean turning his head away.

“I love you,” you said, wrapping your arms around him, giving him a kiss. “I know this is hard and I miss talking to you. So let’s talk, okay?”

He tilted his head and moved to stand but you kept him in place.

“Maybe the conversation is going to be a bit one sided but we can still talk, can’t we?” you asked. He nodded, looking over to where he’d thrown his whiteboard. He went to grab it but you shook your head.

“What?” he mouthed. You pressed your lips to his, gently laying the two of you back. He blinked when you moved away, eyes watching your hand slide up into his hair. Your fingers ran through his stands, green eyes flickering up and back to your face. He was thinking, trying to understand as you grabbed his shoulder and moved his head, resting it closer to your own. You smiled as he kept watching you, still thinking.

“For all the things I hate about this situation, you know what I love? Whenever I tell you how amazing you are, how wonderful and good and handsome and strong and intelligent and witty and awesome you are, you can’t make that tsk noise or scoff or sigh or grumble or interrupt to tell me I’m wrong. You have to sit back and take it,” you said.

He gave you a bitch face, rolling his eyes as you kept playing with his hair. He started to nuzzle into the touch though, his face turning soft.

“I love you,” you said. He nodded and pecked a kiss on the top of your nose, big green eyes staring softly. “I know you love me too, Dean.”

He let out a silent breath of air, pulling you flush to him.

“I don’t care what happens. I’m with you,” you said.

He smiled and grabbed your hand, pressing it flat against his chest and over his heart. You felt his heartbeat and smiled.

Two Months Later

“Dean! Lunch is ready!” you shouted from the kitchen. “Bacon lettuce tomato with extra bacon for you!”

You waited a beat, no tuft of brown hair coming around the corner. You grabbed his plate and drink, carrying them out to the library where Dean was researching again.

“You want to eat in here?” you asked. Dean lifted his head and shook it, waving you over. “You don’t want bacon...okay. That’s not concerning or anything.”

He tapped his book and you set the food down, peering over his shoulder.

“A transference spell? You want to transfer it to someone else?” you asked. Dean nodded, tossing his whiteboard at you.

We can’t break it so let’s move it. Move the spell to someone it won’t affect, like someone in a coma that’s never going to wake up. You think that would work?

“Actually, that’s not a half-bad idea,” you said. “Lunch first and then we’ll see if it’s possible.”

“It was a good try,” you said that night. Dean was in the gym, smacking hits against the punching bag. “We’ll get your voice back.”

He looked around the bag, taking deep pants, hitting it once more.

“Dean,” you said, his face scrunching up as he swung again. Hard. He did it a few times, the bag bouncing around, Dean not letting up until he was breathing hard, falling down onto his butt. He shut his eyes and put his head between his knees.

You sat beside him, Dean letting you pull off his boxing gloves. You frowned when you saw he’d cut up his knuckles.

“Let’s clean this up,” you said when his breathing was more even. He followed you to the kitchen, his head low as you wiped down the cuts and dried it off. “I can’t imagine how hard this is. I can’t. But if you need to go and let your anger out, you will do it the right way. Tape up your hands next time, Ali.”

He nodded, glancing up through his eyelashes.

“What would you like for dinner?” you asked. He shrugged. “Pizza?”

“Uf,” you heard him say, both of you wide eyed. “Igaf!”

“You can talk!” you said. Dean did a fist pump and jumped up and down, his sneakers making the cement floor smack. “Sammy! I think the curse is broken!”

“Really? That’s awesome!” he shouted back, wandering into the kitchen after a moment. Dean was still making baby noises though and he was quickly frowning. “So it’s been about six months. Could have been a timing thing.”

“Yeah,” you said, staring at Dean.

“Ea,” he said, pouting. “Ea icese.”

“I have no idea what he’s trying to say,” said Sam.

“Dean,” you said.

“Ea,” said Dean, finding one of his white boards laying around.

I’m trying to say Dean Winchester. That’s all that comes out. It’s like my mouth doesn’t know how to make the sound.

“Y/N. This may sound strange but...I think I know what the witch did,” said Sam. “I read about it like, years ago.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense, Sam,” you said, Dean throwing up his hands.

“Infantiliccum curse. Six month initial period,” he said.

“Well what is it?”

“I think Dean is very lucky that witch only decided to mess with his voice,” said Sam. “It basically reverts whatever the witch chooses in the afflicted to become that like an infant. Babies can’t talk right? Dean couldn’t talk. The other sound thing might have been a side effect.”

“Yeah but he knows how to talk. Why-“

“Yeah, he does but this is the part Dean’s gonna be pissed about. There’s another six months before it fully wears off,” said Sam.

“Ic uns!” said Dean, his face scrunched up. “Fff mfh uc afh!”

“Pretty sure there was an f bomb in there somewhere,” you said. Dean nodded, glaring at Sam.

“Hey, I said fully reversed. Maybe now you can like, learn to talk again in the meantime,” said Sam. “Get some phrases back.”

Dean growled but he still smiled at being able to make sound.

“I think that’s a good idea. I’m sure you’ll pick it up fast.”

“I know this one’s hard,” you said about a week later, holding up a flash card.

“Owiop,” said Dean, opening his mouth wide. “Owiop. Uckin etter. I ate tat etter.”

“L’s are hard. Come on. Tongue up behind your teeth, narrow your cheeks in and drop your jaw. Lollipop.”

“Ollipop,” he said with a bit of a smile. “Oll...Lol...ipop. Loll...ipop. Lollipop. Uck it L’s. I ot tis now.”

“You want to take a break? We’ve been going all morning,” you said.

He just smiled and stared at you.

“I love you,” he said, no struggle this time.

“Been waiting a long time to hear that again,” you said, kissing him for a few long moments.

“Tank you,” he said. “Th...ank you.”

“Thank you for trying. We keep working it and you’ll be back to your old self in no time,” you said.

“Love you,” he said, kissing you again.

“I love you too, Dean. Even when you couldn’t say it, I knew baby. I always knew.”

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #dean supernatural

[raindownforme]

Hey! I’m back with another request!

Reader and Ted practicality have all the same classes and whenever they have to do projects or work in pairs Ted without fail or shame is always like “Can she work with me! Please!” Even in front of the class So he can flirt with her during the project

She/her pronouns pls :D

Also I LOVED ORBITING JUPITER I NEVER HEAR ANYONE TALK ABOUT IT

An Ode to You

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

The teacher, Mrs. Statham, smacked a stack of papers on her rolling cart. She lined the edges of them up to make it straight, then held the stack in her off arm. She turned to face the class, smiling kindly as she stood tall in her professional shoes.

“This week, we’re starting a project. You and a partner will be writing poetry based on prompts and discussing your different styles of writing. Your partner will be randomly assigned-“ the class groaned, some shutting books in protest. “Hey. It’s 9am, you think I want this either?” The class grew quiet. “Exactly. Now, I’m pulling names from a hat. First is…”

y/n leaned into her open palm, closing her eyes for a moment. She could hear students shuffling around their chairs, tennis ball covered legs scraping the cheap cement. She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back to stretch her back over the cheap school chair.

“YES.” Someone stood quickly in the opposite corner of the room, the scraping and falling sound of the chair making y/n jump. She opened her eyes to see her classmate Ted standing up in the corner with his arms upright in a cheering motion. He smiled widely, looking over towards y/n. He quickly realized his outburst, dropping his arms and pushing his glasses further onto his face. “Should I pick up that chair?”

“Yes, Ted. Then go move over to your partner.” Mrs. Statham shook her head, going back to the task she’d been working on before hand. Ted gathered his things, placing the chair back to where it belonged, and headed across the classroom to where y/n sat. He pulled the chair next to her out and sat down, smiling widely.

“Hey, come here often?”

y/n rolled her eyes, trying to hide a small smile. “Good morning Ted.”

“Good morning gorgeous.” Ted looked away from y/n, sorting through his backpack for a spiral notebook and a mechanical pencil. He turned back to y/n, intending to say something, but Mrs. Statham spoke first.

“All partners have been assigned. On the board are types of poetry and some one-word prompts. Yes you and your partner must pick the same type of poem and prompt. If you have any questions, I’ll be up here grading. Go ahead.”

The students began chattering as Mrs. Statham went to her desk. y/n huffed, staring at the board. She wasn’t well-versed on types of poetry, and the list was quite long.

“How about an Ode? You know like an Ode to something?” Ted gestured with his pencil as he talked. “I’ll let you pick the category.”

“An Ode to…” y/n scanned the board, looking for the right word. “Does that say darling?”

“No?” Ted squinted as he looked at the board as well. “I think it says daring. But I like darling! An ode to darling.”

y/n smiled, turning to begin writing in her own notebook. The rest of the lesson went on with only a few scattered comments from Ted.

“What color are your eyes?”

y/n looked up at him, confused. “Why?”

“Never mind I got it.” Ted furiously scratched at his paper, y/n returning to her own.

“What season is your favorite would you say?”

“Fall.” y/n set down her pencil, smiling kindly at Ted. “I like the leaves and it’s usually a nice temperature out. You?”

“I’m a late spring early summer kind of guy.” Ted taped his pencil over and over in a slow rhythm he could only hear in his head. “I mean, unless you have a pollen allergy.”

“Why?”

“I can’t take you out if you’ll be sneezing and coughing the whole time. I don’t know, maybe the fall could be a good time.” Ted waved like he was getting rid of an idea. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay?” y/n thought to herself for a moment, then ignored Ted’s question to go back to her work.

“Hey what’s your-“ Ted was cut short by the ringing of the school bell. He groaned dramatically as y/n stood to gather her things. “No! Stop.”

“Why?” y/n didn’t stop, instead zipping her bag shut and throwing it over her shoulder. Ted grabbed onto the edge of her shirt, tugging slightly.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Ted, I have a class across the school. I’ll see you tomorrow.” y/n gently pulled her shirt from Ted’s grasp. He sighed, standing up.

“Fine. Let me walk you there at least?”

It took Ted all of a minute to gather his things. He shouldered his back pack and led y/n out of the classroom. He let his hand fall to his side, gently taking y/n’s middle finger and wrapping his own finger around it. He looked down at her, smiling softly, and held on tighter when she showed no sign of discomfort.

The two walked in silence across the school, taking y/n to her science class. Ted stopped her before she walked in, keeping her finger is his grasp. “Can I see you later?”

“Ted, we have class tomorrow. I’ll see you then.” y/n patted him in the arm, politely excusing her self. She watched him walk backwards down the hall, and turned to walk into the class.

“I’ll be thinking of you!” She rolled her eyes at Ted’s outburst, avoiding the peering eyes of her classmates.

———

The next few days continued the same way; Ted endlessly flirting while y/n write her ode. The writing came easy to her. She wrote about the stars, about the constellations and the night sky. It was a basic topic she knew, but it was easy to write about and it fit the prompt. She wasn’t sure what Ted had written about, but by now everyone had finished their poems, and it was time to present.

“Alright, Ted and y/n?” Mrs. Statham sat behind her desk, yawning into her mug of tea. “Please state your type and prompt.”

“We chose an Ode, and I miss read the prompt so instead of daring we chose darling?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the grading sheet in front of her. “I like it. Go ahead.”

y/n cleared her throat. She looked over at Ted, waiting to see who would go first. He gestured to her, offering her to go first while smiling kindly. Oddly enough, for it being the first class of the day, Ted seemed to be the most awake in the classroom.

“For darkness around you, a pattern to make do…” y/n read robotically from the sheet of paper in front of her. The poem lasted only ten seconds, letting her quickly set it aside and awkwardly smile at her classmates. There was light clapping from the crowd, complimentary almost.

“Very good.” Mrs. Statham scribbled on the grading sheet with a blue pen. “And what was that called again?”

“An Ode to the Stars.”

“Thank you. Ted you’re next?”

Ted nodded eagerly, straightening himself. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and looked expectantly at Mrs. Statham. “Do I-“

“There are no extra credit points for memorization. However, if you’d like to, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Ted turned back to y/n, smiling widely. “I’m encaptured in your loving stare; My darling girl, my lady, fair.”

Ted went on for a long minute, leaving y/n a flustered mess. Every stanza, Ted found a new way to look at her. A new way to gesture to her. A new way to emphasize the lines he spoke. And after that long minute, the class fell silent for a moment before clapping loudly for Ted’s display.

“Thank you both. Class, did we notice any differences in Ted and y/n’s writing?”

Someone y/n didn’t know the name of put their hand upwards, prompting Mrs. Statham to call on them. “Well, y/n wrote about an object, Ted wrote about a person.”

“Good. Is there anything else we can infer class?”

“Oh!” Someone in the back classroom sat up straighter as they shouted out. y/n couldn’t quite see who it was. “y/n wrote kind of factual? Like things that we could all see. But Ted sees the person differently than we’d normally… perceive them?”

“Yeah. Exactly. Alright good job you two, go ahead and take your seats.”

Ted followed y/n to the shared desk in the far corner of the classroom. Another set of students went up to present theirs, and y/n kept her eyes glued forward on the pair, avoiding looking at Ted.

“I really liked yours.” Ted leaned over to whisper in her ear. She jumped a bit, surprised by how close he sat. “I think it was beautiful.”

“Thanks.” y/n chewed at the inside of her lip. “What was yours called again?”

“An Ode to You.”

“Sorry?” y/n tried to swallow the heat rising to her face, trying to not be flustered in front of Ted.

“It’s called An Ode to You.”

“To me?”

“No— well.” Ted twirled a pencil around in his finger tips. “It’s called An Ode to You, not like An Ode to y/n, I mean technically it is about you-“

“Me? What, are you flirting?”

Someone snorted in the seat in front of y/n and Ted. “You just noticed?”

y/n watched Ted’s face turn bright red. “I mean, they’re right. You just noticed?”

“I assumed it was a joke.”

“Why would I be joking?” Ted looked at y/n with concern etched across his face.

“I don’t know! Are you not joking?”

“No.” Ted very gently took y/n’s hand in his. “y/n, my darling. I would never joke about you.”

“Well Ted, honey, it’s 9am and you’re flirting with a tired teenager.”

“Can I flirt with you some other time?”

“Yes.” y/n yawned, stretching her arms upwards. “Any other time.”

“Tonight then? 7 o’clock?”

“Why 7-?” y/n stopped, her face becoming increasingly heated as the realization came to her. “A date? You want to take me on a date?”

The school bell rang and Ted stood from the desk, placing a folded piece of paper in front of y/n. “Text me, I’ll come pick you up.”

She watched Ted walk away, then looked down at the paper. On it read a phone a number that she assumed belonged to ted. When she unfolded it, however, was a hand written poem with a title reading, An Ode to y/n.

#ted nivison #ted nivison x reader #chuckle sandwhich x reader #chuckle sammy #chuckle sandwich #lunch club x reader #lunch club

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 33

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: assault, swearing, trauma, tones of ptsd 

A/N: this chapter is heavy with prominent mentions of assault. if that triggers you, please skip this chapter. 

NEXT CHAPTER

She stood in the middle of the set, surrounded by bright lights as the cast and staff moved around to change the setting of the set design. There was nothing she could really feel and she felt herself almost out of her own body, the lack of sleep weighing not only on her eye bags but on her brain and ability to properly function. She felt she was watching herself out of her own body, watching as she dragged herself from scene to scene, almost changing into a completely different person when the cameras were on. It was mechanical, an ability of someone who’d been acting since she was a child. She slipped in and out of her own consciousness, almost knowing everything with a sharp eye but ignoring it. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t sleep. Any news that appeared regarding HYDRA or criminal organisations were always a trigger to keep her up at night. The silence itself was a trigger. Every blank letter she would get would send her into a spiral, every knock on her door. Wherever she turned, either Bucky or however haunted her seemed to surge. Except this time, Bucky wasn’t around. Sharon was but she couldn’t help to think something was off. 

Two weeks. 

Something was off.

She was no super soldier and she was no agent so all she could do was merely put a smile and say “nothing” whenever they asked her if something was wrong. Not that they asked, she was a good actress after all so to everyone else, even Sharon, she was peachy keen, with the same shy smile she always had on set. After all, this was the place she could be anyone but herself. Anna, the character she was playing, was so far removed from her own personality that whatever she felt seemed to dissipate mid takes. Yet, there was no comfort in becoming someone else, becoming someone who was so one dimensional she’d rather be back in her mind. Wherever she turned, she felt trapped, shackled by the weight of her own thoughts. There was nothing she could do. 

     - CUT! It’s a wrap everyone. - the bright lights dimmed as a ‘pop’-like sound removed her from her own dazed consciousness. She clung onto her own arms, turning around with a quickened heartbeat which slowed down as she realised it was merely a bottle of champagne which was now being half poured into flutes and half poured onto the floor. Yet, all she could hear was a buzzing in her ears.

She stood in the middle of everything, almost like a movie shot. Things moved fast but she knew they moved slowly and she remained there, in the middle of the shot, listening to everything as if she were underwater. Everyone was celebrating, drinking and laughing out loud but she couldn’t hear anything. Just a buzz. That’s all she could hear. The buzz and the sound of the wind bustling her dress. 

     - Y/N? - Sharon moved through the crowd, knowing way too well what was happening. She had seen it before. She carefully put her hand just slightly over her shoulder, not touching her but anyone would sense it. - Can you breathe in and out?

    - Huh? - she was once again pulled out into her body and suddenly everything was just too fast, everything was just too loud as if someone had pressed the forward button on an old VHS tape. Her eyes moved side to side as her own hand pressed against her chest, a forceful reminder to feel her own heart beat. - Yeah, hum, I just need a break.

    - That’s fine. - Sharon nodded her head and started to guide her out the middle of the set; however, a much familiar sound of heels hitting the gravel halted those plans. The she was, always board in hands. - Move. 

    - You’re needed. - Ms. Olson pointed at the actress in front of her with her pen. - The director wants to speak to you. 

    - Yeah, that’s fine. - Y/N pulled a fake smile. There was no use putting a fight, she had already done so and something told her not to stray too far off the cage they had put her in. She knew that with Bucky gone and Sharon under the cover she was one of her old university classmates which had settled down in New York as a stage manager, she had no protection, at least no personal protection. What she had belonged to the agency and if she toed out of line, she’d be left to fend for herself. She could barely look at the mail without shivering, much less fend for herself. She was a short woman, anyone taller than her could easily overpower her and that was the sad truth.

Once again, she found herself out of her body, watching as she walked the gravel with Ms. Olson to the trailer belonging to the director. Y/N was tired, she had no intention of wanting to speak to anyone, all she wanted to do was try to sleep yet here she was knocking on the door of the man she had learned to stray away from. The door was opened by his assistant, a small woman barely in her twenties, couldn’t be much younger than 5 years from Y/N, who had an almost meek look to her, hunched back even. Before Y/N could ask her what was wrong, the director, Mr. Powell, was already yelling out for the assistant to leave and for Y/N to come already.  The girl stepped out and closed the door behind Y/N, leaving the two of them inside his trailer. It was grimy with papers and open bottles everywhere and the stench of smoke was thick in the air. It was almost comical, cartoonish even how it looked as if a cartoon, over exaggerated version of a 70′s movie director. 

   - Sit down. - he pointed to the spot on the brown couch near him. She was hyper aware of everything as she sat down on the couch, yet living a big space between the two of them. - You almost ruined my shot today with those puffy eyes, darling. 

    - I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been having some personal issues, I thought they would’ve de puffed by today. 

    - I’ve heard. - he took a puff of his cigarette which laid in the middle of his calloused fingers, laying against the couch rest as if he were on top of the world, when he was merely as much of an unknown as she was. He was no famous director, he wasn’t even a good one. - I thought you were missing your shadow. Where is he anyway? Lost his mind again? You know, darling, I’m always worried about you. I mean once a killer, always a killer, right?

    - ... You’re pathetic. - it came out of her lips without her even noticing it. She stared at him with a lack of respect few people saw yet as quickly as she said those words, she was pined down against the brown leather of the couch. She could feel the cracked leather against the skin of her neck. His hand gripped her throat, hard, cutting her air flow and keeping her against the couch cushions. 

   - You ungrateful little bitch. - Y/N started kicking her feet, trying to somehow roll over on the floor. - I gave you the best role, put up with you not losing any weight and looking like any average shopping girl and how do you repay me? By being a whore? 

She continued to kick her legs up in down so fast it had already started to tire her muscles. Her hands clawed at his face, leaving scratch marks which were sure to remain red and angry on his cheeks. 

   - I’m gonna give you some advice, darling. You wanna get ahead? Start whoring yourself for someone other than your boyfriend.

His hands left her neck and he returned to sit down where the place where he had been, as if he hadn’t just chocked her against the couch pillows. Y/N got up from the couch and bolted towards the door, pulling it open and climbing down the stairs, noticing the assistant was in front of them. Same meek look, yet Y/N continued to charge away from the set villa until she stopped on the sidewalk, sitting down as she watched the traffic in front of her. The weather was cloudy and dark yet somehow the cars lights made it brighter and it hurt her head. It hurt her head too much. The smell of fog and the bright lights hide her away as she tucked her head in the middle of her knees, chest going up and down yet no tears rolled down her face. 

     - Hey ... - Sharon sat by her side. - Let’s go home, yeah? 

The fog merely thickened and lowered, covering the whole of New York in a somber mood. The wind itself was also fast and freezing and as Bucky stepped inside government headquarters, the mood as just as somber. The lights were yellow yet everything had a weird green-like tinge. Everyone was mechanically induced into their own work yet he was hyper aware of everything. Two weeks. Two weeks to bring in a HYDRA general and a senator which were sure to buy their own bail and go back and all he could say and think was he was tired. James “Bucky” Barnes was tired and worn down. 

He strutted towards the interviewing room where Agent Cox and Doctor Raynor were. It was nothing new to him, it was always the same; he would return from whatever assignment had been given to him and be questioned on it by whatever agent was looking over the case and then had a “therapy” session with Doctor Raynor. It was never to check if he was alright, or at least it barely was. They just wanted to see him, to see the Winter Soldier was still inactivated. He understood that yet that didn’t mean he particularly liked it.

He told the agent all he wanted know, from where he had found the two he had just brought in, to some background info. There wasn’t much to say and when he was done, he was left with Doctor Raynor. He stood against his metal chair, convinced to get this over and done with so he could go back to Brooklyn. Back to her. 

    - How are you, James?

    - I’m good, doc. Can I go now? 

    - James, that’s not how this works. You should know that by now. - she opened her notebook. Great. - Tell me about the mission.

    - It was an extraction, mission. No one got hurt. - lies. He had gotten hurt, he had taken a pretty harsh blow to his cheekbone which was developing into a nasty purple bruise, yet, that was not who they were questioning him about. If he had gotten hurt, it didn’t matter. - No nightmares either. 

    - Are you lying to me, James?

    - No, I just want to get out of here. I haven’t seen my girlfriend in two weeks. 

    - Tell me about your girlfriend. - she closed the notebook, almost as if this was off book yet he knew that nothing was off book. Not for him. Everyone has the right to privacy but the Winter Soldier. - What’s her name? 

    - Y/N. 

    - How old is she? 

    - Younger than me. 

    - No need to be hostile, James.

    - No need to ask me about my love life, doc. 

    - Any big fights? Any ... problems regarding your condition? Healthy sex life?

    - Are you asking me if I abuse my girlfriend? - his blood boiled yet he tried to keep cool. He knew an anger outbreak would only keep him in this session for longer than he wanted. Despite this, he chose to get up and leave the room. 

He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear those accusations, he didn’t even want to think about it. Bucky did not like the idea of the Winter Soldier and Y/N together. He didn’t want to merge those two worlds together. The Winter Soldier was someone, a part of him which he didn’t fully understand and he didn’t want Y/N together with it. No, Bucky wanted Y/N to only see whatever bit of kindness, whatever few bits of goodness lied within him. He didn’t want her to the Winter Soldier’s girlfriend. He knew he didn’t deserve her and that title only further reminded him. 

He continued to be lost in his head, those questions running through his mind as he unlocked the door only to be met with Sharon pointing her gun at him. She lowered her gun once she realised who it was that stood in the entrance, putting the gun back in between her jeans and her shirt. 

   - Two weeks? That was long. 

   - Not my fault, Sharon. - Bucky dropped his duffel bag to the floor. - How is she?

   - Not good. - Sharon crossed her arms. - You have to tell her things, James. C’mon, you can do that with me and Steve and maybe even Sam. We know them, we’ve been in missions before but she doesn’t. 

   - Spare me this.

   - She barely slept while you gone, James. God, are you so afraid she’ll stop loving you if you tell her about the Winter Soldier that you’d rather her live in constant anxiety every time you have to leave?

    - I won’t have to leave. 

Sharon scoffed, grabbing her jacket from the coat hanger.

    - Do you seriously believe that, James? 

    - Since when do you care about Y/N?

    - Stop being your worse enemy, James. She deserves to know.

God, she sure was awful now, Bucky thought to himself as Sharon left probably to return to Steve. The flat was intact, things were just as he had left them and everything was quiet except for the TV in the living room. Their bedroom door was slightly opened, probably so Sharon could keep an eye on Y/N. He took his shoes off so his steps wouldn’t alarm her and walked into the bedroom. She was there, in the bed, laying on her side, sleeping peacefully. Bucky walked up to her side of the bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead. 

She stirred in her sleep, eyes slowly opening as Bucky began to shush her, trying to make sure she went back to sleep. Last thing he had wanted was to awake her up.

    - Bucky? - she held herself onto one arm, the other hand coming to rub the sleep off her eyes. Once the blurriness dissipated and she confirmed it was indeed her Bucky, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, almost knocking him into the bed.

Bucky melted in her touch, burying his nose in her hair, sensing the scent of vanilla from her shampoo and the warmth of her skin. This was home, not Brooklyn but her. She was home, she felt like home. She pulled away from the hug for a bit to examine him, her fingers brushing the bruise on his cheekbone.

    - What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?

    - I’m fine. It’s just the bruise, Y/N. 

    - I’ll get some ice. - she prepared to get out of bed but he pushed her back on it. She felt onto his chest and he held her against him with one arm. What he did not expect was to see how uncomfortable she became at the inability to move. He was used to playing around with her, rolling around or having her on top of his chest. 

   - What’s wrong, princess?

   - Nothing ... - she shook her head. - I just missed you. I was afraid you were hurt or you were dead. 

   - I’m not hurt, I’m here. 

   - You’re staying, right? - she questioned, rolling to his side of the bed, laying on his side. - You’re not here just to visit.

   - Yeah, I’m staying, princess. - he caressed her cheek, leaning his forehead against hers. Sharon’s words, however, kept pulling at him. She loved him, he knew she loved him. Right? 

   - You’re making the face.

   - What face?

   - Your thinking face. - she cuddled against him, fingers softly pulling his chin down so he was looking at her. - What are you thinking about?

   - You love me, right? - he probably sounded insecure, he could hear himself sounding insecure, his voice cracking. She cocked her head to the side before raising her fingers to trace his jaw. 

   - Of course I do. You think I’d be marrying you if I didn’t love you?

   - I wanted to hurt them. - he blurted. - I wanted to torture them. Both of them.

   - Who?

   - Every time they send me to any of these assignments. Make amends ... I wanna hurt those people, I wanna hurt them like they hurt me and I hate it.

   - Buck ...

   - I’m ... I wanna be a good person, Y/N. I wanna be good. - he shut his eyes tightly. - And I’m not. 

   - It does not make you a bad person to want to hurt you hurt you, to want revenge. You do not act on it and that’s the difference. You’re not a bad person, Bucky. 

   - You’re the only person who thinks that. 

   - Doesn’t matter. - she smiled at him, softly kissing him. - I’m not expecting you just to move on and let it go. It’s part of your life and it’s part of you and I love you. All bad and all good, I love you. 

   - Maybe you need a better judgement. 

   - I have the best judgment between the both of us. I have no thrown myself off a plane without a parachute. 

   - That can’t be your way of winning arguments. 

   - It is my way of winning arguments. - she giggled at him. - Let’s just go to sleep. 

The night seemed short, way too short but it did not matter because both of them were there. It was calm, too calm until a harsh knock had both of them wake up from her slumber, the morning barely bright yet there was already some light. Y/N clung onto his arm as another harsh knock was delivered against his door. Bucky moved slowly to take his gun from under the bed before he walked out the bedroom, putting his gun behind his back as he opened the door. The police stood in front of him, quite a few of them. Way too many.

   - James Buchanan Barnes, you are under arrest for the alleged harassment and stalking of Miss Y/N Y/L/N.

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[nbrook29]

11 goofy kiss pls<33

4, 7 for Sobbe omg👀💫👀💫 your talent kgnfjfnlfkf ...

Can you do 15 or 20? Or both for sobbe

Sooo this isn't really on the list of prompts but maybe you could write something about Robbe being totally obsessed with Sander's pouty bottom lip - whenever he sees it he has to pounce on it and kisses/bites/touches/pulls on it. Sander is either turned into a wreck or he teasingly indulges Robbe's obsession 

Hi! :)

based on But do you REALLY want the K?

Goofy kiss + Eyelid kiss + Distract kiss + Shut up kiss + Asker’s Choice

In hindsight, Robbe should have seen it coming.

When his school announced that they had received funding to organize free 6-month workshops for their students and local college students after hours, it got his interest right away. Especially when it turned out that the offered courses focused on more niche subjects.

Robbe has always felt some inexplicable fascination with Scandi culture, Norwegian in particular. In fact, ever since he discovered the multiverse theory he’s been half-convinced there must be a Norwegian version of him existing somewhere out there, which would explain this unusual interest of his. 

So when he was scanning the list of available courses and his eyes caught Norwegian 101, his heart beat a little faster and he giddily signed up right away.

And then Sander signed up too, claiming that a) if there’s a Norwegian version of Robbe there must be a Norwegian version of Sander too, thank you very much, so it is his duty to learn a little bit of his alter ego’s language, and b) it’s going to be a perfect opportunity for them to make up for the fact that they didn’t experience being in high school together. He’s always all pouty when he talks about it, mourning all those lost opportunities of them making out against a window sill in biology classroom or having secret meetings in the bathroom during class and demands compensation in the form of extra long makeout sessions in Robbe’s bed. 

Robbe doesn’t exactly mind, neither the joint classes nor kissing the pout away, which always effectively shuts him up. Quite the contrary actually. Ever since Sander texted him a screenshot of the participants list with DRIESEN SANDER under D, he’s been all hyped up at the prospect of the two of them studying together. 

His friends don’t exactly understand why he’s willing to spend his free time in their school building but at least Yasmina shows interest in the workshops as well, signing up for a few, Norwegian included.

He and Sander are the first ones to arrive to the Monday session, and when Sander notices that the classroom is still empty he wiggles his eyebrows grinning at Robbe cheekily, spins him around in a swift move and pins him to the window sill, his hands going around his thighs to make him sit down on it. 

“Is this everything you dreamed about and more?” Robbe chuckles at the delighted look on Sander’s face, legs snaking around his waist to hold him tighter.

“Yes, I got you right where I want you,” he replies smugly and doesn’t wait another second before pressing a tiny kiss to his lips, then another one, and another, until Robbe makes a soft noise of protest making Sander finally give in and kiss him properly, dipping his tongue past his lips in no time. Robbe lets one of his hands slip down, making his path down his back over the black denim jacket, stopping barely above Sander’s belt, and then without second-guessing himself goes down even lower to give his butt a firm squeeze, because it’s just so... deliciously squeezable.

They only break apart when they hear someone clearing their throat and when Robbe catches the sight of Yasmina regarding them with amusement, he quickly disentangles himself from Sander, wiping at his mouth with poorly hidden embarrassment. Sander is unfazed, as always, turning around with a swagger and shooting Yasmina one of his most charming smiles. She’s not a sucker for it though, contrary to Robbe, so she just fondly rolls her eyes shaking her head at their antics.

The classroom starts to fill in quickly after and before they realize the only empty seats left are placed in the back. Only Yasmina manages to snatch herself one closer to the front. Sander graciously allows Robbe to take the only unoccupied spot in the sixth row and he himself marches over to row eight.

The first hour and a half flies by and Robbe is having more fun than he anticipated. The teacher, Vilde, is young, she’s quirky in that positive way and her approach to the subject differs from what Robbe is used to during his regular classes. 

He takes notes diligently and tries to participate as much as possible but he struggles with pronunciation when asked for reading a few words out loud. When Vilde asks Sander to read them, he does it with flying colors, the jerk, and the girl is so impressed that she calls him a natural, praising his perfect pronunciation of “engelsk” and “kjole” while smiling a bit too much and too wide at him. In Robbe’s humble opinion. 

Once she goes back to writing on the board, he turns around to see Sander giving him a shit-eating grin so he does the only right thing in this situation and sticks his tongue out at him.

They are two hours in when Robbe gets hit in the ear with a small paper ball which then lands perfectly in the middle of his notebook. He throws a glance at the obvious suspect but Sander seems to be deep into copying the grammar rules from the board to his MacBook. 

His elegant handwriting gives him away though.

Du er digg 🖤

Vilde mentioned that last word just five minutes ago, more as a fun fact than anything else but of course Sander caught and remembered it.

He’s fighting against the beaming smile that threatens to take over his face because he doesn’t want to look like a lunatic to everybody around. Sander isn’t bothered by things like that though so when Robbe looks at him again he’s resting his chin on his hand, staring at him unabashedly with a grin of his own as he notices the flush on Robbe’s cheeks.  

He tells him as quietly as he can to quit distracting him to which Sander raises his arms in surrender and with a feigned-serious expression busies himself with the given exercise. If Robbe then tucks the note into the back of his notebook no one needs to know.

Not even a full five minutes pass when another paper ball lands on his desk. Robbe heaves a long-suffering sigh and raises his eyes to the heavens because yes, now he has to deal with a rebel of a boyfriend.

When he straightens out the note, he snorts.

Do you like me? 

Circle YES or NO

🖤

Seems like Sander is having lots of fun acting out this high school romance fantasy. 

He decides to indulge him and reaches for a red ink pen to circle YES. Then, he adds a bunch of crooked hearts (because he’s not the artist in this relationship) on a whim. Once he makes sure Vilde isn’t looking in their direction, he throws the note back to Sander, but not without catching the disapproving look from Yasmina who rolls her eyes so hard Robbe is surprised they aren’t stuck. He just shrugs at her without remorse. 

Sander opens the paper ball as delighted as a child opening their Christmas gift and when he sees the answer he pretends to swoon in his chair, blowing him a long kiss from above his notes.

“Sander, I think you should be paying attention.” Vilde’s reproach pulls Robbe from gazing at his boyfriend like a love-struck puppy and he immediately shoots him a cheeky grin because it’s just really satisfying to watch him being scolded by a teacher.  

“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Sander clears his throat as he straightens on his chair before he glances at his laptop and adds with a smirk, “Or, rather, Du har rett, Vilde.”

Then he winks at her and his confident demeanor clearly succeeds to appease her because she starts to wax lyrical about his oh so amazing pronunciation again.

Ugh. What a show off.

Though, Robbe has to admit that it sounds kinda hot when he speaks Norwegian but it’s not like he’s going to go and tell him that. Instead, he reaches for his phone to shoot him a quick text.

R: You’re such a teacher’s pet oh my god

R: Also stop flirting with her, she’s seconds away from swooning 

S: Are we jealous?

R: Yes, very, I’m worried you’re gonna run away to norway with her and have viking children together 🤭

S: 😘

There is no bell signaling the end of the class but at 17:15 Vilde thanks them for today’s lesson and everybody starts to pack and gradually leave. Robbe is shoving his stuff into his backpack when he feels fingers in his hair pulling his head back without real force to angle it better. Then, Sander places a big loud smooch on his lips making him giggle and swipe at him lightly.

“You’re such a dork.”

He reaches to put the strands hanging over his forehead back in their place, scratching at his scalp a little and when Sander leans into the touch, closing his eyes with a pleased purr, he stands on his tiptoes and presses a tiny kiss to his left eyelid, which earns him one of Sander’s sweetest smiles. 

Once his bag is packed, they leave the classroom with their index fingers entwined, swaying their hands a little as they walk. “So, did you like that class?” 

Sander nods. “Yeah, it was cool. You?”

“You know, I thought those three hours are gonna be a bitch but it was actually pretty fucking nice.”

Sander pushes his tongue in his cheek, wiggling his eyebrows at him. “And did you like my notes?”

Robbe pretends to scrunch up his face, trying not to laugh at Sander’s offended huff. “Hey! Well, okay then, if you’re like that I’m not gonna send you any next time.”

He juts out his bottom lip and honestly, it’s Robbe’s kryptonite, and he’s long made peace with a fact that he’s weirdly obsessed with it; it’s just so plush and enticing and he has spent hours upon hours kissing and biting it, the fact that it made Sander go weak in the knees for him an additional bonus.

So Robbe uses it against him to distract him from pouting, and this time it’s him who pushes Sander against the wall close to the school exit. He pulls their bodies together, delighted at the surprised hitch in Sander’s breath when he sticks out his tongue to drag it along his bottom lip, pulling it with his teeth to nip it a little, to then soothe the sting with his tongue again. He can feel his ministrations are starting to work and with each second Sander is turning into a pile of goo in his arms. 

A voice in the back of his head tells him the school corridor is probably not the best place for this so he eventually pulls back and drags him away from the wall to the school yard. Sander follows him but not without half-hearted protests that stop only when Robbe kisses him hard to shut him up in the middle of the school yard.

“Come on, there’s a bed in my room with our names on it and my mom works until 20 tonight.”

“Is there a shower with our names on it too?”

“If you’re good,” Robbe pretends to think about it, “then I guess that can be arranged.”

#wtfock #wtfock fanfic

[bbugyu]

in your dreams + lee seokmin

your lifetime best friend visits you in a less than pg dream.

wc.7413 | fluff, mentions of sex, potty mouths across the board, hs/friends to lovers au, fem reader

i finally am posting a fic about one of my ults haha! this is also a recycled/reworked fic from my old blog so if you've read something similar to this before no you haven't <3

Mornings were never your strong suit. You always hit snooze as many times as possible, rushed to get your uniform on and fix your hair, then ran out the door with a piece of toast. You knew you’d feel less tired if you just woke up at a decent time, had a proper meal, and got ready like a real human being, but staying in bed felt so much better for those few luxurious moments. There was no stopping your bed bug habits, especially after being accepted into university. Suddenly, getting to school on time was the last thing on your mind when you were swimming under your covers.

You always knew you would make it when you caught up to Seokmin. He lived a block up from you, and he always turned up for class exactly three minutes early. If you saw him, you knew you’d be okay.

Today, he was much further ahead of you than he normally was. So, you sprinted past his house, earbuds in and chewing on your breakfast that you hadn't even managed to toast, hoping you would see his familiar form when you turned the corner a couple blocks down.

Sure enough, as you skidded around the corner, you spotted him at the end of the street. You let out a groan, already winded, before shoving the rest of your bread in your mouth and running towards him. You flew past him and pulled out the earbuds when you were a few yards ahead, bent over with your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. He laughed as he caught up to you.

“You’re later than usual.”

You wiped your nose on the back of your hand. “Really? I hadn't noticed.” You fell into stride next to him, still breathing heavily while you straightened out your skirt. “I swear if we're running in gym today, I’m going to fake a migraine.”

He watched you pull your ponytail tighter. “Did you run the entire way?”

When you nodded, he got a plastic water bottle out of his bag and handed it to you. “Oh, god, you’re the best,” you said, drinking from it. “Water tastes so good.”

Seokmin laughed as you chugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That means you're dehydrated.”

“I’ll buy you another bottle when we get there,” you said after you drained the one he gave you. “Thanks.”

“You should’ve tried for the track team this year,” he said teasingly, nudging you with his elbow. 

You laughed. “I’d only do well if you’re at the finish line, yelling at me that I’ll be late.”

“I would have done it, but you better break some school records if I’m doing that much work.”

You liked Seokmin. Your mothers were good friends, forcing the two of you to play together while they talked when you were barely potty trained. Lucky for them, you got along well, and lucky for you, you ended up in the same class all the way through elementary school. You had been worried when you entered high school that he would grow out of having “girl friends,” as many of the guys did, but he never stopped hanging out with you. He continued to walk home with you, at least as far as his house. He still helped you with your homework, even when he was just as confused about the mathematics problem. He kept the promise he made you when you were little tots.

“Seokminnie,” you had said, tiny hands covered in markings from your colored pens. “Can we be best friends forever?”

He had given you the biggest smile his six-year-old face could manage. “Yes! Best friends forever.”

You walked into the classroom and put the bottle of water you had just purchased on Seokmin’s desk, letting out a “thanks again” as you passed. He saluted you as you walked to your seat, then went back to his conversation with his friends. You could hear them teasing him as you put your bag down.

As the two of you grew older, you gained more friends of the same sex. It didn’t stop you from calling Seokmin your best friend, but it seemed natural to have a different group to hang out with at school, one you could go to the bathroom and fawn over boys with. However, whenever the two of you interracted within eyeshot of any of them, they seemed to insinuate that the two of you should be something more than friends.

“You know who’s handsome?” Haseul said once. “Seokmin.”

Sooyoung giggled. “Watch out, somebody already has dibs.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop it. We’ve been friends since diapers.”

“How romantic,” Haseul swooned. “Childhood friends turned lovers!”

You threw your pencil at her, and she laughed as she deflected it. "Guys and girls can be friends, you know!"

From what you could tell, Seokmin’s friends did the same to him, teasing him endlessly about his girlfriend, even though you had spent plenty of time with them by proxy.

“You look like hell,” Sooyoung said as you sat down in your usual seat behind hers. “Late again?”

You laughed, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “Thanks. Yeah, I had to run to catch up today.”

“Thank god for your oppa, huh?”

“Ugh, don’t call him that,” you said, covering a yawn.

“Ah,” Haseul exhaled to your right, straightening out her notebook. “Is ‘jagiya’ better, then?”

You hit her shoulder and she yelped, making Sooyoung laugh. They started talking about something else and you stole a peek over to Seokmin’s desk. He had his face buried in a hand, being prodded by his friends. His eyes opened and he noticed you. You sneakily pointed a finger gun under your chin and he stifled a laugh, which set off his friends again when they realized he was looking in your direction. You would have to apologize later for triggering his torment

When classes ended, you found Seokmin waiting for you by the school gate. Sooyoung cooed at the two of you from a distance, making you roll your eyes as you straightened the straps of your bookbag.

“They’re relentless,” you said.

Seokmin groaned, throwing his head back in agreement. “Has it been especially bad recently for you, too?”

“It's springtime,” you laughed. “They want to watch a pretty romance blossom with the flowers.”

“Someone should tell them to stop watching so many dramas.”

You ended up at his house, reading a webcomic on your phone while he played a computer game. Afternoons were often spent like this. You were sprawled out on his bed, mindlessly crunching on a bag of chips, when he suddenly let out an expletive and dropped the controller on his desk.

You looked up, then read out the red text that was splattered across the dark screen. “You died.”

He spun in his chair. “Yeah.” He pulled the chair towards you and stole the bag, shoving a handful of Fritos into his mouth. “Whatcha reading?”

You looked at your phone. “Slice of life romance. It’s cute, I like the art style.”

He nodded, chewing slowly. He was obviously thinking of something else, even as he was staring at you, but you didn’t blame him for having other things on his mind.

When you looked up at him again, he suddenly dropped the bag by your side and turned back to his computer, scooting his chair as he did. You tucked your hand into the bag of chips and went back to your comic. You ended up going home for dinner, messaging Seokmin when you made it back to your house.

You found yourself in his room again that night, this time the details warped. You spent so much time with Seokmin, it wasn't uncommon for him to appear in your dreams, but this context was entirely new for you.

He crowded you, filling your personal space, his fingertips tracing lace patterns on your bare shoulders. A hand found its way to the back of your neck, tipping your head to let him place delicate kisses on your lips that left you breathless. Every time his mouth found yours, a shock of electricity ran down your spine, the tingling settling in your core. He caressed you, held you, laid you out on his bed. Your understanding of the situation was blurred by the dreamscape, but you liked it. In this reality, you liked him. And you liked what he was doing to you. You even liked it when his thumbs grazed over the peaks of your bare breasts, when he sucked bruises onto your neck, when you felt the pressure of his erection filling you. 

He muttered your name into your lips. “I love you.

Your legs were wrapped around him, hands desperately pulling him close. You gasped. “God, I love you, too.”

You woke up suddenly, sitting up in bed with your heart pounding. It took you a moment to recognize the sound of your alarm clock, and you hurriedly shut it off. You were sweating. You kicked off your covers and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, staring down at your hands.

Was that a wet dream?

You felt your already hot face turn red. Not only was it a wet dream, but it was about Seokmin. An involuntary shiver ran up your body, remembering the torturous detail that your imagination had held you hostage for.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, you rushed to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face. The feeling of his hands ghosted up your torso, and you stomped your feet slightly in an attempt to ward off the strange sensation.

It was just a dream, you told yourself. But... it had felt so real.

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you got ready for school. You spent a long time staring at yourself in the mirror, fixing and re-fixing your half up-do. You couldn’t remember the last time you had this much time to get ready. The time felt empty, somehow. Your mother saw that you were awake and excitedly fried an egg to put over rice for you. The metal spoon lingered in your mouth as you stared into space. 

“I love you,” he had said. His voice had been low, gravelly, a tone you had never heard before. You shuddered.

“Are you okay?”

You snapped to attention, looking up to your mother. “What?”

She pouted. “You look feverish.”

“Ah,” you felt your cheek. It was hot. ���I’m fine.”

“Be careful of hay fever,” she said, clearing her own place at the table. “Your father has bad seasonal allergies, too.”

As you left the house, you realized that you would have to walk right past Seokmin’s. Panic stricken, you wondered if you should start walking faster to make it past and avoid him, or if he had already left. You checked the time on your phone, realizing that he would probably be leaving soon. 

Your legs moved as fast as they could without running. If you made it past his house before he left, you wouldn’t have to face him until you had more time to process. But, as you were about to pass, the front door opened.

“Ah!” Seokmin waved to you. “You’re early.”

Externally, you smiled and waved. Internally, you collapsed into yourself.

“Your hair looks nice,” he said, patting your head. “Did you actually wake up properly today?”

You nodded, trying not to wince at his touch. “For the first time ever, I didn’t want to go back to sleep when my alarm went off.”

“Wow,” he laughed as you walked beside him. “I’m impressed.”

You had never seen Seokmin as anything but a brother. Your best friend. Someone you had been close with since childhood. Now, you looked over to him and couldn’t help but see his naked body hovering over yours. Your heart raced as you stared at your feet, all while he told you about the complex lore of the game he had been playing the day before.

It was unbearable.

Your friends would be no help. You knew better than to confide in them - they had already been so convinced that the two of you should hook up, if you said anything that hinted at some subconscious attraction you might have towards Seokmin, they would never let you live it down. You spent the entire day avoiding him, thinking that if you allowed yourself time to forget the dream, things would go back to normal. But when you saw him with his friends by the school gate at the end of the day, your stomach flipped in your gut and you felt your pulse quicken. You thought about walking past them, blending in with Sooyoung and Haseul, hoping he would be distracted with their conversation, but you had no such luck.

“Hey!” Seokmin waved you over. “The guys wanted to get some food, you in?”

“Uh,” you looked over to your friends for help. They stared back at you.

Mingyu spoke up. “You two are welcome, too, obviously.”

“Sure,” Sooyoung said. “It’s Friday, why not.”

Haseul nodded, and you were dragged along with them to a small restaurant a few blocks down. This had happened a few times before, where the two of your friend groups went out together. The six of you crowded around a table, everyone hungrily picking at the side dishes while you waited for the stew to boil in the center of the table. After getting a consensus from the table, Mingyu got the attention of a waitress.

“Unnie! Could we please get some ramen noodles, also?”

“And more kimchi,” Seokmin muttered, shoving a scoop of rice in his mouth.

“And more kimchi,” Mingyu repeated. “Thank you!”

Sooyoung laughed. “You guys sure like to eat well.”

“We’re growing boys,” Seokmin said. 

The dried noodles got added to the stew, and you took it upon yourself to break it up as it boiled, mixing it in with the army stew. Mingyu was the first to steal some of the cooked noodles, slurping them down and grabbing bits of meat from the stew as he chewed. 

“Oh, it tastes really good,” he said, leaning back. “It never tastes this good when it’s just us guys.”

Haseul laughed as she took a spoonful of the broth. “It can sense your fear.”

“Hey,” Seokmin nudged you with his elbow, sticking a folded bit of meat and kimchi in your face with his chopsticks. “Eat up.”

This was a normal gesture, you tried to remind yourself. This was something he did all the time when you went out to eat. You always distracted yourself so much with cooking the food, you hardly ate anything, and Seokmin always made sure you enjoyed the meal with everyone else. But the action felt strangely intimate today, and your leg bobbed nervously as you chewed. It reminded you of the electricity you had felt when he touched you.

In your dream, you reminded yourself. When he touched you in your dream.

“The three of us will split the bill,” Minghao said when all the food had all been devoured.

“Eh?” Sooyoung looked at you, then back to the boy across from her. “We can pay for ourselves.”

“No no no,” Seokmin insisted. “We’ve already discussed it. We invited you three out, so we’re paying.”

“Wow, what gentlemen,” Haseul giggled. “Thanks for the food!”

You and Sooyoung repeated the thanks, the boys saying that it was no big deal. The three pooled their money to cover check, then met you girls outside the restaurant.

“I should study for that quiz on Monday,” you said when the conversation started to die down. 

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Mingyu groaned. “I don’t want to think about school all weekend.”

Haseul laughed. “Good luck failing, then.”

You threw up a peace sign, backing up towards the road that led to your neighborhood. “Thanks for the food, guys!”

“Seokmin-ah,” Minghao nodded to him. “You coming over?”

Seokmin shook his head and started to follow you. “I should get help studying while I can. Tomorrow?”

You waved to your friends as they headed in the direction of their own homes. Seokmin fell into step beside you as you trotted down the steep alley that was a shortcut towards your street. His hands stuffed in his pockets, as usual. You tucked your thumbs under the straps of your book bag, examining your feet as you walked.

“I love you,” he had said. For some reason, the dreamy sound of his voice wouldn’t get out of your head. The words rattled in your skull; you could almost feel a headache coming on in response to it. The two of you walked in near-silence the entire way.

“Do you wanna come in?” He asked as you approached his house. 

You distracted your fingers with the hem of your shirt. “Ah, maybe not today.”

“Eh?” He punched your shoulder. “Why not? I wanna play Mario Kart.”

You laughed shortly, hoping he wasn’t noticing your blush. “I was serious about studying, Seokmin.”

“Well, come on, then.” He tugged on your arm, pulling you towards the front door. “We can study and then play Mario Kart.”

Unable to find a worthy excuse, you let him pull you through the front door. You slipped off your shoes, greeting his mom and waving to his sister, both of whom were practically family for you, but the interaction felt stilted in your current state. The two of you escaped to Seokmin’s room, where he dropped his bag on the floor and pulled a folding table out of his closet. Trying to not act as awkward as you felt, you busied yourself by messaging your mother on kakao to let her know you would be at the Lee household for a while. You thought about sitting on his bed, but you were hit with a sudden flashback of being pushed down onto it. You picked at your nails instead.

Seokmin quickly set up the short table in the middle of the room, then situated himself at one of the sides, pulling his bag closer to get his school things out. You hesitated before you sat across from him, back to his bed, tucking your legs under you and flattening your skirt.

“You’re acting weird,” he said suddenly. 

You looked at him, wide eyed. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been all day, but don’t know how to describe it,” he said, leaning back on his hands and furrowing his brow at you. “It’s weird. You’re acting… timid.”

You tried to laugh it off, but it sounded unconvincing even to yourself. “You’re crazy.”

He laughed at you. “You know it, too. You’re acting weird but you’re trying so hard not to.”

You groaned, putting your forehead on the table. “Leave me alone.”

“So... are you gonna tell me why?”

You adjusted onto your chin, eyeing him. “I said leave me alone.”

“C’mon, aren’t we supposed to be best friends?” He reached over and poked your forehead. “Tell me what’s up.”

You exhaled while you got up onto your elbows, rubbing your face. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to talk about it with you.”

Seokmin’s eyebrows furrowed again. “Is it really that serious? Are you okay?”

You laughed, despite how incredibly nervous you felt. “It’s nothing serious, I promise. It’s stupid, really.”

“Now I’m worried,” he whined.

“How about that quiz, huh?” You said, pulling notebooks out of your book bag. He whined at you again, but complied and retrieved his own study supplies. He allowed an hour to pass before he brought it up again.

“Do you have a crush on someone?”

Your pencil clattered on the table when you fumbled with it. “What? No! What the hell?”

He squinted at you. “Is it Minghao?”

“Min, seriously,” you rubbed your face again. “I don’t have a crush.”

“You’re lying.”

You laughed incredulously. “I’m not!”

He studied you a moment. “You have a tell,” he said finally. “I’ve always known when you’re lying.”

You were sure the color washed from your face. Always? Surely that couldn’t be true. Besides, you really weren’t lying this time. “Seokmin. I don’t have a crush.”

“Liar,” he said after a beat. “You were being weird when we went out for food. Minghao?”

“No,” you said, suddenly nervous.

He squinted at you. “Mingyu?”

You rolled your eyes. This was insane. “No.”

He paused. “Haseul?”

You laughed. “You think I’m gay, now?”

“Well, who else?” He asked, exasperated. “Me?”

“No way.”

He stared at you a moment, clockwork moving behind his eyes. “Oh my God.”

You frowned. “What?”

“You have a crush on me.”

“You’re crazy.”

He pointed at you. “You chewed on the inside of your cheek. That’s your tell. You did it just now.”

You stared at him, your tongue running to the side of your mouth. He was right. The inside of your cheek was raw from the nervous habit. You stuttered. “Min, I swear, it’s not a crush, but I really don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“How long?” He asked, slouched over the table, watching you closely.

“Listen to what I’m saying, idiot.” You pointed at your lips for good measure as you enunciated each syllable. “It’s. Not. A. Crush.”

He exhaled and leaned back on his hands. “Then what is it? I’m not gonna stop until you tell me.”

You whined, dropping your head onto the table. “God, this is a nightmare.”

He poked at your head. “Tell me.” You whined in response. “Tell me!”

“Fine!” You said, sitting up and slapping away his hand. “I’ll tell you. But you better not tell another soul, Seokmin. Swear on your life.”

He crossed his heart. “I swear.”

You sighed deeply, leaning back, avoiding eye contact. “I had a dream last night.”

Seokmin watched you. “Wow, I got chills.”

You threw your pencil at him. “Shut up, I’m getting to it.” You exhaled again. “I had a dream about you last night, and it was… confusing.”

“Confusing how?”

You looked over at him. “Confusing… like, I don't know how I feel about it. It was… charged. Sexually.”

He stared at you blankly for a second. “Wait-”

You groaned and collapsed onto the floor, already regretting saying anything. “This is a nightmare.”

“Wait wait wait,” Seokmin’s hand hit the table. “You had-”

“This sucks!”

“-A sex dream-”

“Shut up!”

“About me?”

You groaned. “This is why I didn't want to talk about this.”

He picked up your pencil off the floor, laughing. “Wet dreams happen. Why do you feel so weird about it?”

“What,” you said, straightening out your shirt as you sat up. “You wouldn’t feel weird if you had a sex dream about me?”

“Well, I mean,” he paused, fiddling with the pencil. "I have. Had them about you, I mean."

You stared at him, cheeks burning. “What?”

He laughed, looking down. “I’m a guy,” he said, nervously folding the corner of his notebook. “And you’re pretty. I can’t control my subconscious.”

“Pretty,” you repeated.

“Yeah, I mean, obviously.” He shrugged. “That’s not a secret, or anything.”

“Right.” You nodded slowly, “So you’ve dreamt about… us.”

“Not on purpose,” he said, fussing with his notebook still. “But, yeah.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said sheepishly. “We spend a lot of time together.”

He nodded, pointedly tapping the table with your pencil’s eraser. “Yeah, that probably has a lot to do with it. Was this the first time for you?”

“With you, yeah.” You pouted. "I know I've had them before, but I never really remember them like this."

Seokmin chuckled. “Well, I’m flattered.”

There was a pause between you two, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you expected it to be.

“So,” you swallowed. “Are yours just fucking, or…”

“More than that?”

You nodded, staring at your hands.

“It depends,” he laughed nervously. “Sometimes they freak me out a little bit, actually.”

You chewed on your lip. “This one freaked me out.”

He shifted, obviously wanting to ask about it, but not knowing how. You took the hint.

“It was really… intimate,” you said quietly. “Like,” you paused, studying the wall. You put your hands up, palms together. “Like, looking-deep-in-your-eyes intimate.”

He stared at you. You cleared your throat nervously.

“You said you loved me.”

He exhaled. “Damn.”

“And I said it back.”

“Like…” he trailed off, gesturing.

You nodded. “During.”

“Wow,” he flipped the pencil around his thumb. “That’s a lot more than just fucking.”

“No kidding.”

“So,” he started after a long pause, then cleared his throat. “That’s why you've been acting weird?”

You groaned. “Yeah, it’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.”

He stifled a laugh. “It was that good, huh?”

“Shut up,” you giggled, despite how embarrassed his implication made you feel. “I don't know. Every time I see you now, I see that dream in my head. It's awkward.”

“Does that mean…” he paused, tapping your pencil again, his eyes wandering around his room. “You’re imagining me naked?”

“Ugh!” Your hands covered your face. “Well, now I am, you asshole!”

He laughed. “For what it’s worth, I have to pretend that I’m not imagining you naked way more often than I’d like to admit.”

Your fingers slid down your face, uncovering your eyes so you could stare at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I mean,” he dropped the pencil on the table. “Like, yesterday. When you were reading that comic on your phone?”

You nodded slowly, flattening your skirt against your thighs.

“It reminded me of this dream I had once, where you showed me a hentai and wanted to act it out with me.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the fuck?”

He laughed. “Listen, I don’t come up with this stuff on purpose.”

“How long ago was that dream?”

Seokmin thought a moment. “A few weeks ago?”

You eyed him. “How often do these dreams happen?”

He shifted. “I… I don’t know.”

“You’re lying, but I’ll let it go,” you said, sitting back and leaning against his bed.

He laughed. “Thanks.”

You watched him a moment as he stared at his fingers, fiddling with your pencil again. You suddenly remembered the way his lips had felt against yours. You had never really paid much attention to them before, but when you examined them now, you realized how full they were. They formed a sweet heart, you thought, and you wondered if they felt as velvety as they looked. You spent too long staring at his lips, you had to stop yourself from biting your own.

Seokmin exhaled and held out your pencil. “Back to studying, I guess?”

You blinked. “Right. Yeah.”

His brow raised while you took the pencil from him. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

He laughed. “You were looking at me really weird.”

You examined your pencil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously.” He cocked his head at you, a smile teasing his lips.

“Stop that,” you muttered, pouting. “I don’t like that I’m noticing you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” you scoffed for a second, unable to believe yourself. “Like not my brother. Or best friend. I’ve been noticing you. As a man. All day. It’s weird and I can’t stop it.”

“As a man?” 

You looked up. Seokmin’s brows were furrowed, but his expression was still gentle. You felt your heart quicken. You screwed your eyes shut. “I’m going to do something. I want you to be totally honest about it after it happens, okay?”

“O-okay?”

Before you could change your mind, you steadied yourself as you leaned over the table, planting your lips on his.

And you stopped. And he stopped. And you felt electricity run down your spine.

Then time started again, and you pulled away slightly, your eyes opening to find him staring at you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “Was that-”

His hand reached up to you, pulling you back into him with a gentle grip on the back of your neck. This time, his lips moved against yours. You immediately settled into him, goosebumps forming on your arms when you felt his tongue brush against yours. When the pace slowed, he let out a hot breath, and you rested your forehead against his.

He laughed. “Holy shit.”

A giggle escaped your lips. “Yeah.”

“I,” he laughed again. “I’m not gonna lie to you. I have a raging boner.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from looking down, immediately noticing the tent in his pants. You sputtered out a laugh. “Oh my god, Min. You’re such a romantic.”

“Listen!” His hand moved from your nape to your jaw. “That was… A lot. I didn’t realize that kissing you would be like that.”

You smiled gently. You’d never seen his eyes this close before. “Me neither.”

“Like,” he paused. “Is it always like that? Or are we just… insanely compatible?”

You giggled. “I’ve never had a kiss that felt that good.”

“One second,” he said, adjusting himself quickly and standing. He stepped around the table and put out a hand to help you to your feet. “Can we continue?”

You giggled as you stood, straightening your skirt with your free hand. “Yeah, I think I want to.”

He placed his hands on your waist hesitantly. The touch was new. Different, but not unpleasant. You settled your arms on his shoulders, and he dipped down to kiss you again. It was exploratory, almost nervous, but you both settled into a rhythm quickly. You found your hand burying itself in the hair above his nape, and he pulled your hips into him. You gasped slightly, surprised by the unfamiliar feeling of his clothed hard on against your pelvis.

“Too much?” He asked breathlessly, pulling away.

You shook your head and pulled him back onto your lips, immediately deepening the kiss. After a few beats, your teeth tugged on his lip and he groaned, fingers gripping you desperately. His heavy eyelids opened, and you stared at him, trying to catch your breath. “We should… stop.”

He nodded. “Probably, yeah.”

“This is…” You watched his lips. “This is your first time kissing a girl, right?”

He nodded.

“And it would be, you know…” Your fingers were still buried in his hair. “The first time doing that for both of us.”

He nodded.

“So…” You bit your lip. “We should stop.”

He nodded.

But neither of you really wanted to stop. Despite all logic pointing towards it, you really had a hard time justifying it to yourself when you were here, with him, and everything felt so good.

So you didn’t stop. Not yet.

You slowed the pace, both of you aware that you were no longer participating in a sprint, but rather a marathon. He was gentle with you, his hands following the curve of your waist as he discovered your weak points - the small of your back, your lower lip, and the skin between your ear and jaw. You couldn't stop thinking about how you just couldn't believe he had never kissed a girl before, considering how easily he was making you melt in his hands.

And when a curious hand found its way to your ass, playfully pulling up your skirt to grip you better, you nearly fell apart. You desperately wanted to do something, despite knowing that you probably shouldn't, and you fought with the notion for a long moment, all while Seokmin made a very compelling case for you to strip down right that second.

You needed to think logically. Seokmin was your very best friend and you didn’t want to ruin that, but you were a bit beyond that at this point. You had only admitted attraction, not even feelings. You weren’t even close to dating, you thought. You always wanted your first time to be with someone you had been seeing for a while, someone you really cared for and really cared for you. Someone special. But the more you considered it, you realized Seokmin might be the perfect candidate; he was the person you were closest to, and you shared an emotional intimacy that you couldn’t even imagine with anyone else, so even that argument seemed null.

It didn’t take much for you to work up the courage. He pulled your hips into him again, and you let your hands drift downward, finding their way to the (impressive) bulge in the front of his pants. He made a noise - a mix between a yelp and a groan - before grabbing your shoulders and pushing you away slightly.

Your already rosy pink cheeks went bright red. “Bad?”

“I-” Seokmin stuttered. “I thought-”

“I just,” you paused, looking down. You tried not to stare at his crotch. “We don’t have to do anything major but… I want to touch you.”

He let out a strangled laugh. “What happened to ‘we should stop’?”

You bit at your lip, pushing him lightly until he sat on the edge of the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. “Do you want to stop?”

He stared at you, seeming to consider everything for the first time, suddenly awake to what you were suggesting. “Not really, no.”

“Then,” you looked down. “Let me touch you.”

-

The next day, you were on his bed. You were laying next to each other, listening to music, when you suddenly propped yourself up on an elbow to look at him. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Can I help you?”

You laughed. “Yes.”

He smiled, placing a hand on your nape to pull you down to him, resulting in a long, slow kiss. That same electricity ran down your spine.

“Uh oh.”

He laughed lightly. “Why uh oh?”

You examined his face for a moment. “I think I might actually have a crush on you.”

“I told you you were lying yesterday.”

You laughed and hit him. The music stopped suddenly, his phone ringing from where it was plugged in across the room. Seokmin groaned.

“Can you get that?”

“You’re closer than me, asshole.”

He groaned again, rolling off his bed and onto the floor, crawling his way to his desk. He pulled it off its cord and answered. “Hey.”

You watched as he stood, making a noise of recognition. His hand hit his forehead.

“Ah, I forgot. Do you wanna come over here instead? I don’t wanna leave the house.”

As Seokmin walked back towards the bed, you could hear Minghao’s annoyed voice through the phone. “-been waiting all afternoon. Mingyu’s here already, you know? And you’re gonna make us come to you?”

“Ah, well,” he said, flopping back onto the bed and putting his phone on speaker. “Y/N’s over here, so. Are you gonna make her walk all the way to your house? Are you even allowed to have girls over?”

You laughed at Minghao’s stutter as he repeated your name. “Hey, am I on speaker? That’s rude, you know.”

“Hi, Hao,” you said, giggling. “You and Mingyu should come over, the four of us can play Mario Kart!”

“See!” Seokmin said. “Listen to your elders, Myungho.”

“We're the same age, don't call yourself my elder.”

“See you soon?”

He sighed into the phone. You stifled a snort. “Fine, we’ll come to you. Be there in twenty.”

You laughed at the dial tone that signified Minghao hung up without letting Seokmin say bye. He had a look of betrayal on his face before he dropped the phone and rolled onto his side, facing you. You raised a brow. He contorted his face to wink at you dramatically, making you laugh, and him follow suit.

“Yah,” he rolled over again, rubbing his face. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

You poked his side and he swatted at your hand. “What do you mean?”

“To be totally honest?” Seokmin inspected the ceiling. “I’ve liked you for a really long time.”

Your mouth opened involuntarily. “Really?”

He nodded. “I woke up this morning thinking for sure that I dreamt yesterday. I’ve thought about confessing to you so many times, but you never seemed interested in me that way. I didn’t want to make our friendship awkward.”

“Well,” you said, picking at your nails. “I’m interested in you now, so…”

Seokmin laughed, tucking a hand under his head. “Good thing, I was getting worried I wouldn’t be able to keep it in much longer. You keep getting prettier every day.”

You coasted on that high, laying on your stomach and smiling at your phone, for the time it took your friends to make their way to you. You heard the door opening downstairs and Seokmin’s mother’s voice as she told them to go ahead up. 

Seokmin rolled off the bed. “I should move. They might suspect something if we’re laying in bed together.”

You nodded at him, looking back at your phone and mindlessly playing a puzzle game as he settled, seated on the floor with his back against the bed. There was an unspoken agreement that the two of you should keep whatever relationship developed a secret, at least for now. The two of you didn’t even know what this was yet, it’d be stupid to let others in on it, too.

When Minghao and Mingyu practically kicked open Seokmin’s bedroom door, you jumped at the noise and stared at them wide eyed.

“Yah!” Seokmin yelled. “Be careful! The hell is wrong with you?”

Minghao looked like he was trying to be intimidating, pursing his lips to stop himself laughing while he tried to be serious. “You lazy assholes made us walk all the way over here.”

You looked from him to Mingyu, who looked back at you, his face reading like a hostage. You burst into laughter, rolling onto your side.

“Don’t laugh!” Minghao pointed at you, a smile breaking through his facade. “I’m serious. This jerk agreed to come over to my house, yet we somehow ended up here! Because you’re here! Why?”

Seokmin was staring at him, mouth open and squinting. “In my defense, I forgot.”

“I wanted to hang out,” you said sweetly, sitting up and leaning against the wall. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s always choosing you over us,” Minghao pouted, crossing his arms as Mingyu snuck around him to sit on the bed next to you. “What’s up with that?”

“Well, first of all,” Seokmin said. “She’s way cooler than both of you.”

You laughed and said “thanks,” while both Mingyu and Minghao whined in unison.

“Secondly, I’ve known her for literally a decade longer than I’ve known you guys.”

“Whatever,” Minghao said, pulling his phone out of his jeans’ pocket and sitting on the floor. “You’re weirdly confident today. Did you finally get laid?”

You almost snapped your neck with how quickly you looked up at him. Mingyu snorted, laughing at the idea, but both you and Seokmin were frozen, staring at Minghao, who’s forehead creased when he saw the looks on both of your faces. Realization dawned on him and Mingyu almost simultaneously.

“Holy fuck, you two-”

“I have to pee,” Seokmin announced loudly, standing so suddenly that he toppled slightly before walking past Minghao and exiting the room. You stared after him incredulously, ears bright red, silently cursing the scaredy-cat bitch for abandoning you.

Mingyu cleared his throat. “So.”

“Nope,” you said. “This isn’t happening. We’re not talking about this.”

Minghao pointed at you. “So it’s true!”

You shook your head and rubbed your face. “That idiot really just walked out of the room.”

Mingyu laughed his big loud laugh, making you chuckle into your hands as you continued to cover your face.

“I’m so pissed. I can’t believe he actually just walked out.”

“I can’t believe you fucked him,” Minghao said.

Your hands fell off your face. “I didn’t! We didn’t fuck!”

He pointed at the door. “Then what the hell was that?”

“That was an idiot.”

He pouted a moment. “That’s not fair. I can’t argue with that.”

When the door opened again, you threw a pillow at Seokmin. “You jerk!”

He caught the pillow and stared at you. “What?”

The other boys stifled laughter as you fumed. “You abandoned me, you asshole!”

“I had to pee!”

“Nice cover, dick.” You crossed your arms. “I’m mad at you.”

“Don’t be mad at me!” He pointed at Minghao. “Be mad at him!”

Mingyu whined. “Mommy and Daddy are fighting...”

You smacked him in the arm with the back of your hand, and he jumped, rubbing the spot you hit. 

Minghao laughed and leaned back on his hands. “You’re a real dumbass.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, hugging the pillow while he sat down across the room. “I didn’t know what to do.”

You scoffed. “Clearly.”

“So... are you guys done talking about it?”

You threw your phone at him, and he deflected it with the pillow. 

“Hey! That could have actually hurt me!”

“Yet it didn’t,” you said, trying to grab Mingyu’s phone out of his hand to throw that, too, but he held it out of your reach and pushed you away. “We didn’t talk about anything, and we’re not gonna talk about anything.” You pointed a look at Minghao. “Right?”

“Right,” he said, sighing. “Whatever. I’ll corner Seokmin later.”

You continued to fume from your curled position on the bed, pouting and glaring at Seokmin. He stared back at you, eyes wide and lips slightly curved downwards. He mouthed an I’m sorry, but you just kept glaring.

“So,” Mingyu said, scratching his head. “Mario Kart?”

Hours passed, and you slowly let out your anger one shell at a time, Seokmin crying out and begging you to stop every time you hit him. At the end of a Grand Prix, you announced that you needed to pee.

“Have fun,” you said to Seokmin, then stood up to go to the restroom. He stared at you, wishing for mercy, as you closed the bedroom door. You giggled to yourself as you walked down the stairs.

You purposefully took your time, using the restroom downstairs, washing your hands extra well, looking at photos in the hall, peeking into the kitchen and chatting with Seokmin’s mother. When you finally returned, Seokmin looked shellshocked and both Mingyu and Minghao looked up at you.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Minghao nodded. “He’s easier to crack than you are.”

That was the moment where you thought, oh, this may have been a mistake. You gulped, looking at Seokmin. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” he said, but it came out as almost a whisper. He cleared his throat. “Nothing, I swear.”

You looked at Mingyu, and he shook his head with a frown to tell you he was lying. “Seokmin, what the fuck?”

“You abandoned me!”

“That doesn’t mean you can tell them everything!”

“I didn’t tell them everything…”

“Oh,” Minghao said, “So you guys did do more than that.”

You stared at him. “Seokmin, what the fuck!”

“I’m sorry!” He put his hands together and getting on his knees to plead with you. “I’m sorry! I’m weak! You know this!”

“You’re a fucking traitor,” you said, shaking your head as you sat down. He practically put his head in your lap while he bowed to you, muttering apologies. “I’m never sucking your dick again.”

His head shot up while both of the other boys burst into laughter. Seokmin let out a weak “really?”, which made them laugh even harder.

You almost snorted at the look on his face, shoving on his shoulder while the boys were distracted laughing. “Stop digging your own grave, idiot. What did you even tell them?”

He sat up, lower lip sticking out as he stared at you, clearly searching for a sign that you weren’t absolutely pissed at him anymore. "Just that you, y'know," he muttered, aimlessly gesturing. "Taught me how to make you feel good."

"You got pretty good, too," you giggled. You leaned over, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

“Wait, no, come back,” he said, pulling at you with a hand on the back of your neck. You laughed while Mingyu made a gagging noise behind you.

“Ugh, get a room.”

“This is my room,” Seokmin snapped back, looking over your shoulder. He kissed you again, then finally let you sit back. “Hey,” he started. You looked up at him, pursing your lips. “Wanna be my girlfriend?”

You giggled.

“You two aren’t even together?” Minghao whined.

“Seriously, you have to do this right now?” Mingyu groaned.

“I’d like that,” you said.

“Me too,” Seokmin grinned.

#hhahahahah #ive been debating whether i would post this for like two weeks its fine im fine #lee seokmin #dokyeom #dk #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #dokyeom imagines #dokyeom fluff #she do be pretty suggestive tho #anyways the idea of dating seokmin in high school hurts me a lot #sunshine #i wrote dis

[mellifluoushood]

Into The Dark - C.H. AU [Chapter 1]

A/N: Hello and welcome to my first series! This is an alternative universe with Calum Hood as a tattoo artist. Inspired by the thought of Calum with a nose ring, this is what happened. Thank you to @calumscalm​ @toofadedtofight​ and @dukehoods​ for helping me iron this idea out! Moodboard credit to @ammwritings​ !! Thank you so much!! xx Synopsis: Full-time college student, Seraphina Sallow, works as a receptionist for world-famous tattoo artist, Calum Hood. Their friendship blossomed when she wrote an article about his tattoo parlour, Fallen Angel Tattoos, for a journalism project at school. Since then, she’s been working as a receptionist at his parlour to put herself through school. As college tuition increases and her social security checks get smaller, she’s beginning to struggle to keep up with her payments. And then, a fallen angel shows up in the parlour, offering her the solution to all of her problems. But, at what cost? (TEASER) Genre (this chapter is): angst / fluff / smut / normal Warning: heavy mentions of drug use (smoking weed), strong language, weapons (firearms) Taglist: @calumscalm @gigglyirwin @ammwritings @loveroflrh @dukehoods @toofadedtofight @babylon-corgis​

Her giggles bounce off the black walls in the parlour. It doesn’t quite harmonise with the sound of the tattoo gun buzzing along a client’s skin, but it doesn’t sound out of place. At least not to Calum. The laughing and snorts have become a regularity in his shop. It had started as a quiet shop, the only noise coming from a playlist he made weekly and the occasional small talk clients would make with him. But, her laughing bounced through the door one day, alighting the energy of the parlour with something lighter, happier.

Calum remembers the day as if it were yesterday. He had finished a tattoo, sanitising the skin and wrapping it with Saniderm when the silence was broken by the sound of the bell ringing above the door, followed by an eruption of giggles and an, ‘I’m here, I’ll call after I’m done.’. His eyes had rolled as he muttered a ‘finished’ to the customer before standing up and walking to the front desk. There stood a woman, a little younger than him, searching her large tote bag for something.

“Can I help you?” Calum deadpanned, looking at the woman whilst taking money from the customer. He knew he was being rude to both the customer and the woman, but the customer had been asking him questions the entirety of the tattoo and the woman was too cheerful to be in a dark, quiet parlour.

“Oh, yes, I’m here for...” she pulls out a small notebook and a recorder, flipping open the cover and looking at the name, “Calum Hood. I’m Seraphina Sallows, I have an interview with him.”

“That’s me,” Calum raises his eyebrows, a little irritated this reporter hadn’t bothered to look him up, or even know his name when she stepped into the parlour.

“Oh, hello,” she smiles. She extends her hand. Calum doesn’t take it. Instead, he walks from the front desk and to his station. Seraphina purses her lips but follows him. He sits on the tattoo chair, waving her to sit in the spinning chair he usually sat in. She sat quietly, unsure of how to act around him. Her smile tended to put her interviewees at ease, but instead, it seemed to make Calum more jaded, tenser. 

When she sat down, he looked at her from head to toe. Besides from her smile and laugh, she didn’t exactly scream ‘bright’. She had dark brown, curly hair with a straightened fringe hanging just over her groomed eyebrows. Her eyes were a dark shade of brown, much like dark chocolate that seemed to sparkle in the fluorescent lighting. Calum thought he saw hints of green around her iris’s perimeter. She had olive skin that was tanned, covered in small handwriting tattoos. A few rings decorated her fingers that gripped a black pen, notebook open in her lap to jot down notes. She wore an oversized shirt that hung over what he presumed were shorts. He could see scattered tattoos along her thighs and calves. The only thing bright about her was her teeth that gleamed whenever she braced her pearly whites. Through the fabric of her shirt, he could see a navel piercing. He noted the nose ring on the right side of her nose. The only thing bright about Seraphina was her name, her smile, her teeth and her voice.

As the interview went on, he had noted her morbid sense of humour and lack of optimism about her future, even though she was in college. Her voice was light, resonating just the right tone in her chest for her 5-foot 2-inch stature. He was intrigued, to say the least. He wondered why she put off such a happy persona when she very clearly was not happy.

Since then, he’s learned that she is happy. She’s happy in her own way. Calum couldn’t describe it to anyone if they ever asked, he had never been the best with his words.

“You done, Miss Slap Happy?” Calum questions, walking in from his station to say goodbye to his client. He barely acknowledges the client once his eyes land on Seraphina.

“Done with what?” She rolls her eyes at him, giving the client a gleaming smile and announcing the total. Along with the tip, Calum had made good money off this customer. 

“Done with being annoying,” Calum deadpans as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She rolls her eyes at him once more. It’s all she ever seemed to do around him. Except for smile. She smiled around him a lot.

“You’re one to talk, Mister Grumpy,” Seraphina uses a baby voice at the end. Calum just nods at his client before returning to his station to sanitise it before close. Seraphina follows the customer to the door, thanking him for his business and locking the glass door once he’s left. She can hear the sound of the spray bottle along with the squeaking of the paper towel rubbing along the metal rolling table and leather of the tattoo chair as she approaches his work station.

“Are we still on for drinks?” Calum asks, referring to their Friday night ritual. Drinks at Steve’s before either going home or hopping over to a club for more overpriced drinks. She quickly turns around, trying to conceal the guilt on her face,

“I can’t, I thought I told you last week,” she frowns, her attempt at sounding genuine quite feeble as she turns off the computer. Calum rounds his corner from his station, furrowing his brows.

“No?” His voice has an edge to it. He notices the way she swallows before replying to him, 

“I have plans,” she simply states, not willing to share what she was up to. Calum makes a face,

“Care to elaborate?”

“It’s not important,” she shrugs, trying to conceal the lie. Calum picks up on the way that she tried to lighten the tone, but there was something underneath her words that poke at Calum. 

“Whatever,” it’s his turn to roll his eyes. She looks down at the desk, biting at her lip when her phone vibrates in her pocket. She quickly fumbles for it, reading the address from a blocked number before shoving it back in her shorts. Calum watches as her facial features fell at the sight of whoever texted her. He could see the way her eyes had begun to develop small drops of something that he didn’t recognise. He had never seen that look in her eyes before.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Seraphina shrugs off Calum’s attitude, a fake smile winding its way up to the corners of her mouth. Calum scoffs before turning on his heel, unlocking the front door and slamming it behind him. 

She flinches at the sound of the metal edges hitting the doorframe, her own heart seeming to flinch at Calum’s mood. She pulls out her phone, texting an ‘on my way’ before collecting her bag and leaving the shop, locking the door behind her. 

She looks down either side of the sidewalk, turning left and finding her car parked on the side of the road. The old, beat-up Corolla was on its last leg, but she simply didn’t have it in her to buy another car. And neither did her bank account. She unlocked the door, the dark blue showing a few scratches around the handle, looking to her left and right again, before getting in. It’s stuffy and warm, the upholstery absorbing all of the heat from sitting outside all day. She starts the engine, quickly peeling out of the parking spot before heading for the address.

She looks at the abandoned building. Its grey walls are tagged with graffiti, that begin to cover the boarded-up windows. She notices the broken beer bottles in front of the door. She doesn’t see anyone outside. She pulls out her phone before sending Calum a quick, ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t make it tonight.’ He sees her message almost immediately, leaving the words ‘Read 19:57′ under the blue box. She sighs, pulling her hair out its bun and her fingers along her scalp. She looks up again, jumping at the sight of a man appearing at the entrance of the building. 

She turns off the engine of her car, stepping out, looking left and right again, before shutting the door and locking it. She walks around the hood, tucking her hands across her chest as she approaches the man in front of the door. She recognises him as the client she had spoken to earlier in the day,

“Roy,” she nods her head at him. He smiles at her,

“Seraphina, I’m glad you could make it.” She stands in front of him, planting herself a few feet away from him, “I didn’t know if you’d take me up on my offer.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs. Her voice is no longer bright and her teeth no longer shine. Roy is smiling as if this is completely normal for him.

“Alright, let’s get started. You’re going to need this,” he reaches underneath his shirt and produces a handgun. It looks heavy as he holds it, “A Glock 19. Best for beginners,” he holds the barrel of the gun, handing her the grip. She doesn’t take it immediately. She simply stares, watching as the black shines under the street light a few feet from where they’re standing. She looks to her left and right again, looking for any sign of a security camera or cars passing by. 

“Go on, it isn’t gonna bite,” he jokes. Her brown eyes look back at him and she swallows, hard. Uncrossing her arms, she reaches for the gun, slowly. When she grasps her hand around the grip and looks at Roy for further instruction. He releases the gun and it’s heavier than she anticipates. She catches it before she loses her grasp and it clatters to the ground.

“The safety is right next to the trigger. You take that off when you wanna shoot it, otherwise, it’s best if you keep it on. You cock the gun by moving the slide back. Make sure you have the safety off when you do that so you’re prepared to shoot if you need to,” he points to the spots on the gun. She barely absorbs his words as the heavy piece of metal shines back at her, almost as it’s taunting her.

She swallows again, nodding and looking up at Roy. She shakily checks to see if the safety is on before stuffing it in the band of her shorts. It feels stiff against her bare thigh, the metal a shocking cold. The cold always used to reboot her system when she was in shock. This kind of cold, only made it worse.

“You ready to meet the boss man?” Roy chuckles, leaning against the abandoned building and crossing his arms over his chest. She licks at her lips, using her front teeth to bite down on her lower lip. She shrugs nervously,

“I guess.”

Across town, Calum sits at the bar by himself. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t get his one night off. Saturdays, they opened the shop late, so he could be out till whenever he pleased on Friday nights. He had phoned Michael to join him. He didn’t want to drink alone tonight. When Michael walks through the entryway, he’s surprised that Calum’s alone at the bar. Michael approaches, slapping a hand on his tense shoulder,

“Hey, mate, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Calum mutters, sipping at his whiskey on the rocks.

“What crawled up your ass?” Michael takes a seat next to his friend, signalling the bartender for a cider.

“Nothing nice, I can tell you that,” Calum tries to joke, but his voice comes out more like a growl. 

“Where’s Seraphina?” His friend asks. Calum shoots him a look as if to say ‘don’t bother asking’, but Michael’s nosiness isn’t to be battled.

“I’ll ask again,” Calum turns his attention back to his whiskey, “Where’s Seraphina?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckles dryly, tossing back the glass. He gulps down the brown alcohol, no change in his facial expression, “Said she had ‘plans’.”

“And that was it?” Michael pushes.

“Yeah, Michael, that was it.” Calum snaps, flagging down the bartender for another whiskey. He was just starting to feel fuzzy, his stomach beginning to bubble with warmth, spreading a buzz throughout his blood. Michael sips at the bottle that had been placed in front of him, biting at his inner lip, trying to stop himself from asking more questions. Instead, he pulls out his phone, typing a quick, ‘Where are you?’ to Seraphina. 

Her phone buzzes in her pocket as she stands next to Roy. She swallows, ignoring it as the man approaches her. His bald head shines in the dim light of the seemingly abandoned building. There are few lights in the back room, barely illuminating his facial features. The only things she can notice about him is the hollowness of his face and the sharp bones protruding from his cheeks. He has something between a five o’clock shadow and scruff along his jaw and above his upper lip. His green eyes are piercing, taunting as they look her up and down.

“You’re Connor’s ex-girlfriend,” he states with an amused tone. She nods her head.

“Thought you broke up with him to get out of this mess,” he presses.

“Circumstances change,” her voice is quiet. The boss barks out a laugh, turning around to the beaten up table holding bags of lord knows what. She looks at his stained white wife-beater. It’s covered in smears of brown and red.

“Well, I’m glad to have you aboard,” he turns around to look at her, sitting on the edge of the table. His mouth widens into a smile, revealing teeth that hadn’t seen the inside of a dentist office in what looked like decades. She subconsciously runs her tongue along the front of her teeth, “A hot little piece of ass like you will be real’ good for business, real good.” He runs his eyes up and down her legs again. Seraphina swallows once more.

“What were you thinking of starting with? Just some bud, or were you looking to make a bit more?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I think you should go with more,” he reveals his teeth again in some form of a smile, “With you being in college and all, fending for yourself.” His words send a shiver down her spine. She suddenly feels hyper-aware of the piece that’s sitting on her left hip, the cold seemingly burning an imprint into her skin. The hair on the back of her neck stands up and she can feel the blood rush out of her face.

“O-okay,” she stutters. His smile goes wider,

“Let’s start you with some bud and some blow. Those are our best sellers, and I’m sure a lady like you won’t have a problem selling them.” She nods as he grabs plastic bags of white powder and green nuggets. She had seen this exchange plenty of times from a safe distance of a car parked across the street, the man hiding in the shadows, only hands holding bags visible in street lamps. She would watch as Connor looked left and right before taking the bags and stuffing them into his pockets. 

“This bag has three others inside of it; a twenty bag, a fifty bag and an ounce,” he hands her the weed. She takes it slowly, trying to stop the shaking of her hands, “This bag also has three: half a gram, gram and a ball. I’m assuming you know what those go for,” he raises his eyebrows at her. She nods slowly before taking the plastic bag in her free hand.

He turns around and sits at his table again, “Let me just make something clear. If you don’t sell it all, you pay me for it. If you sell it all and aren’t honest with how much you make, you will pay for it. If you take it and keep the money for yourself...” he chuckles. The warning bells in her skull begin to ding at a high rate, “Well, you can fill in the blanks.”

Michael checks his phone for the thirtieth time as it seems like Calum knocks back his fifth glass of whiskey. Calum stopped responding to Michael’s attempts at conversation around glass number three. He’s been sitting in silence, staring at the bar top in front of him, his fingers wrapped tightly around the glass. Michael’s about to open his mouth again when a voice interrupts them,

“Hey, guys,” Seraphina’s voice is breathless when she approaches the bar, smiling at the bartender and ordering her usual. She sits in the open seat to Calum’s right. He lifts his head to look at her for a moment, noticing the small sheen of sweat that had begun to accumulate on her hairline and the redness lingering in the whites of her eyes,

“You’re stoned.” He states, looking back at his whiskey, knocking it back once again. He signals for his sixth.

“No,” she chuckles, “Just warm.”

“Yeah, sure,” Calum scoffs, watching as the bartender switched out the empty glass in front of him for another full one.

“Anyway, how are you, Michael?” Her attention turns to his blonde friend. She directs her voice towards him, but her eyes scan Calum. His black nose ring his still snug against his nostril, his array of roses tattooed on his neck still there, his brown, curly hair resting on top of his head the way it normally does. He’s wearing the same black t-shirt he wore earlier. His eyes are still the same dark brown they’ve always been. She’s checking to see if he’s changed when the reality of the situation is that she has.

Michael’s voice begins to chatter on as Calum’s gaze wanders to Seraphina. Her shoulders are tensed, her posture straighter. And that’s when his eyes spot it. The barrel of a gun outlined in her jean shorts.

#into the dark #isabella writes #5sos #5sos blurb #5sos fic #5sos fluff #5sos imagine #5sos smut #calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood fic #calum hood fluff #calum hood imagine #CH

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

“To bring order to a disordered world was the detective’s job.”

Nanteuil-la-Forêt, Marne, France – June 1848

~Cedric~

The rain howled unforgivingly outside, scratched against the stone and glass beneath a steel grey sky. Cedric tensed whenever they passed a window with its curtains drawn back and his eyes darted to Milton. Thankfully, after his episode in the library, he seemed to be doing better, though he still looked deathly pale. Nonetheless, Cedric wished his chessboard was only half as heavy as it was so that he could go and cover all windows, damping the storm with the thick curtains.

They had decided to go to Cedric’s room first to put away the bothersome chessboard before continuing to the kitchen, and Cedric did his best to divert Milton’s thoughts from the rainstorm by constantly enquiring where they were now and how long it would still take to get to their destination. This seemed to work fine, and without Milton suddenly stopping and staring into who-knew-where and with his notebook navigating the château’s puzzling corridors went surprisingly easy. Still, Cedric let out a relieved sigh when they finally arrived at his room.

“Wait here,” he said to Milton. “I’ll quickly put away the chessboard and be right back.”

Milton nodded, and Cedric hurried into his room.

With Milton waiting outside, there was no time to lose. Just in and out. Even the few seconds it took to drop the board on a bureau and hurry out of the room unnerved me.

“I’m back!” Cedric announced and pulled his door into its lock. “You’re still fine, Milton?”

Milton smiled at him. “Yes, I am, Kristopher.”

“Good. For a moment, I feared you had a breakdown and recovered from it in the thirty-six seconds I was away and now have more ‘underlying’ pain because of it.” Cedric paused. “This did not happen, did it?”

“I assure you it didn’t, Kristopher. I have no reason to lie to you.”

Cedric looked at Milton and a sudden wave of exhaustion came over him, but he ignored it. He could not go to sleep right now. “That’s good. How do we get to the kitchen from here?”

Skilfully, Milton thumbed through his notebook without any loose papers tumbling out and planned their route.

“I wondered,” said Cedric while he was watching Milton going through his intelligible notes, “How do you cope with the rain when you’re travelling, by the way?”

Milton looked up. “Hm?”

“As you are travelling that often – haven’t you said you were on the road for over a year? – I wondered how you manage your ‘phantom pain’ then.”

“I… I have actually learned to endure rain fairly well,” Milton replied, looking at the notebook in his hands and fumbling with the edge of a page. “Normally, I cope fairly well, though the ‘pain’ has become a little more intense a few years ago… Still, it only becomes hard when the rain lasts as long as it does now. Bram then insists to leave and travel to a place where it doesn’t rain – as long as it does not disrupt any of our plans, of course, though Bram often insists to move regardless.”

“So, it’s like you’re being chased by the rain?”

Milton tilted his head. “I have never thought of it like that, but I would say yes.”

“Rain really does not seem to like you,” said Cedric half-absentmindedly as his eyes caught sight of a chandelier above him and yawned.

“H-hm,” murmured Milton and turned his own attention back to his preliminary floorplan. “We have to go left to the stairs first,” he said, and Cedric nodded. Of course, he knew the way to the kitchen from here – it was one of the few ways he knew in this wretched place – but he wanted to give Milton something to do and…

From the hall downstairs, Milton surely would not have to consult his notebook anymore, right?

The more time I spent with him the more convinced I became that Milton was indeed innocent. Odd, but innocent. Ideally, neither he nor Wentworth should turn out to be criminals, but if I had to pick one to be the bad one, I would choose Wentworth right now. Still, it was only a tendency, nothing definite set in stone.

I had to be sure it was Wentworth. I had to be sure it wasn’t Milton.

And even if Milton knowing half the way to the kitchen by heart meant nothing but that last night’s events had not been a fragment of my imagination and acute sleep deprivation, I had to consider everything I got, no matter how scarce it was.

Cedric smiled. “Then let’s get to those stairs, shall we?”

***

~Cloudia~

Nadia Allemand’s tailor shop was nestled between a shoemaker and a coiffeur and stuck out even in the heavy rain because of the fence which had been hastily put together to signal villagers not to enter blocking its entrance. The last time Cloudia had been there, “Crime scene: do not enter” had been written across the fence, but the words had already been washed to unrecognisability. She and Kamden removed the fence and leaned it against the shoemaker shop’s façade. Yvette stepped forward and unlocked the shop and everyone followed her inside.

Carefully tip-toeing around the objects on the ground, Cloudia headed to the closest lamp and ignited it, and with the rising, growing flame, more and more of the shop was revealed and the shadows against the walls grew longer and longer.

Everything was like when she and Cedric had first inspected the tailor shop two days ago: Fabrics had been thrown onto the ground. The pens and papers on the table were in disarray, taken out of their cases and torn from their pads. Scissors and measuring tapes and needles were laying on the ground. Even without the vaguely human-shaped area on the ground where nothing lay, Cloudia knew that the disorder had been created after the murder, not before or during it.

If a thief had broken into the tailor shop, he would not have pulled out the fabrics from their rolls as it was obvious they would not have been hiding anything; rather, if at all, something might have been hidden inside the rod in the middle of the rolls, but the rolls were still secured to their stand. And while the seemingly frantic state of the shop might suggest that the culprit had been in a hurry, had been running against time, the thin fabrics weren’t torn. The old pencils weren’t broken on the ground. The pad containing nothing but sketches and notes might have lain in one piece on the ground, and not systematically shred to pieces. Also, nothing had been taken according to the inventory notes.

Cloudia walked upstairs to the little flat Nadia had shared with her friend Armelle Peletier – to the little flat, touched only by a sheer layer of dust, but vastly untouched by the disorder. Quickly and carefully, Cloudia opened cupboards, wardrobes, drawers, looked under beds and opened and examined jars in the kitchen. She found money and heirloom jewellery far too easily for them to have been overlooked by a thief. After putting everything back, Cloudia headed back down. Halfway down, she stopped on the stairs to look down at the scene beneath her.

The vaguely human-shaped area was like a beacon in her eyes. If the chaos had not been created by a hurried thief trying to find anything of value before being detected, you might suggest that it would have come from a brawl, from Nadia fighting back against her attacker. But no piece of furniture was knocked over. No piece bore any fighting marks or even looked out of place. The paper wouldn’t have been torn from the pads, the fabrics would not have stayed as pristine as they had, and Nadia wouldn’t have perfectly fallen onto the only empty space on the ground.

Whoever had staged the crime scene had done such a poor job with it. Still, it was so very interesting and so very odd: It looked like the work of an amateur, not of a stranger who wandered the lands and regularly murdered people he didn’t know; and it was so different from the other crime scenes which had no signs of disorder and chaos – staged or not. As if the culprit had got bored with trying to cover their marks or had admitted their own incapability of faking a crime scene and decided not to bother anymore.

Or, it was as if this first murder had been committed by one person, and the others by another. The different murder weapon (the needles) and general location (inside) hinted towards that too.

And then there was the other thing that bothered me, something I had noticed at all four crime scenes: Here, despite the disorder, there were no real indications of a fight, and there had been none at the church and in the forest too. The victims hadn’t fought back which meant that they had been surprised.

Or had known their murderer.

But according to Antoine, the only connection between Marius and Dominique was that Dominique had been friends with Gustave. Dominique and Marius had never had a proper talk beyond “hello” and “how are you doing?” And neither Gustave, Marius, nor Dominique had ever been associated with Nadia in any manner.

Cloudia climbed down the rest of the steps. “Grégoire, have you got a clear picture of the crime scene? Maryse?”

Kamden looked up from a drawer he had been inspecting, craned his head to her, and nodded.

“Good. Have you found anything interesting?”

“Mlle Maryse found these,” Kamden said, and gestured to Lisa who was standing at the other end of the room. Catching her cue, she held up a bag that was slightly opened to reveal the needles inside. “Sewing needles,” Kamden continued. “You said Mme Allemand was killed with needles?”

“Yes. Dozens have been run into her body,” Cloudia replied and walked to Lisa. From the corner of her eye, she saw Yvette watching them intently.

“Mlle Maryse found the needles in a cabinet,” said Kamden while Lisa handed the bag to Cloudia. “Do you think they could be the same ones that were used to kill Mme Allemand?”

“The bag doeslook too big to hold only so few items, but I cannot tell if they are the same needles. We would have to compare them later when we inspect the bodies.”

Kamden glanced at Lisa. “If… if they are the same ones… Mlle Maryse found the bag in a cabinet, but inside a box which, judging from its décor, must have originally contained tea. It wasn’t an easy find, and she had to open the box with a picklock.”

“A picklock?”

He nodded. “Yes. It was a locked box. A locked tea box.”

“Not a place anyone would expect a bag of sewing needles to be,” said Cloudia with sparkling eyes and handed the bag back to Lisa.

“What does this mean?” Yvette asked.

Kamden and Cloudia looked at each other, and she grinned. “This means that I would love to talk to Mme Peletier next.”

***

~Cedric~

Milton did need his notebook all the way to the kitchen.

This was a relief, of course. But then… what if he usually knew his way there and was only temporarily disoriented because of the rain? What if he was only pretending not to know?

Cedric shook his head and opened the kitchen door. His tiredness and hunger were starting to mess with his head, and he hoped to find anyone in the kitchen he could ask – or rather, could ask through Milton – if they could prepare them some food. But when he stepped inside, Cedric had to notice with a sinking heart that no one was there.

Typical. Maybe there would be some leftovers from lunch somewhere, at least?

“Milton, apparently, we have to get ourselves some food on our own,” said Cedric with a sigh and walked towards the icebox when he saw, from the corner of his eye, Milton putting his notebook on one of the counters and heading to a cupboard.

Cedric turned around and hurried to prevent Milton from opening the cupboard. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“Uh… helping to find something to eat?” Milton replied and let down his hand.

“Oh, no, no, no. I will get us something. You will sit down and rest,” said Cedric and gently took Milton’s arm to lead him to a small stool.

“But I want to help, and you said ‘we have to get ourselves some food on our own.’”

“I did, but I did not mean that youwould have to rummage around and chop something or so. I meant ‘we’ in ‘oh, we need to get food,’ not in ‘oh, we both have to prepare something.’” Carefully, Cedric made Milton sit down on the stool.

“I could still help though,” protested Milton, but Cedric only shook his head. “Just let me do this. What did you say earlier? It’s a ‘remnant from the time before I became a duke.’ I was once a commoner, after all. Before becoming a baron, you were a lord. That’s the title of a baron’s child, isn’t it, my pampered friend?”

“No… no, it isn’t,” Milton said, and Cedric let go of his arm. “The children of a baron have no title. They are only styled ‘The Honourable’ as a courtesy. Father was the younger son of a baron and, thus, styled ‘The Honourable.’ I was only ever a ‘Mr’ though until Father became Baron. And I was certainly never pampered.”

Cedric groaned. “All this is unnecessarily confusing. Anyway, whether you grew up pampered or not, you’re unwell todayand I won’t, by all Heavens, let you go anywhere near a knife. Or, to be very frank with you, Milton, I am not even sure if I would ever let you go near a knife.”

Milton fumbled with his sleeves. “Yes... that would be the most sensible decision. I will just sit here then.”

“Perfect,” said Cedric and went to the icebox, wishing for leftovers, but was only met with single ingredients.

Cooking from scratch it was then.

“Any lunch wishes, Milton?” Cedric asked and started to look through the kitchen to see what was there.

“I… I think it would be best to look first what ingredients are available and what you can cook from them. I do not want to make a wish, you make it your goal to fulfil it, and then get disappointed or frustrated when you cannot do it,” Milton replied, smiling.

“You are consideration personified I forgot,” said Cedric, and Milton turned red. He got flustered so easily, it was almost endearing, but mostly it was amusing.

Much to Cedric’s relief, the kitchen had basically everything. He was not a terrible cook, but if Denis wasn’t restocking the kitchen’s inventory so diligently and there were only a few ingredients available, the number of dishes Cedric was able to cook would fall dramatically; and he didn’t want to resort to throwing everything into a stew. He wanted to cook something a little more elaborate. Something with a fancy name. Something to impress Milton.

On the small but fine list of dishes Cedric could cook, there was only one that fulfilled all three criteria. He could only hope it would turn out well today.

There was usually a fifty-fifty probability of me ruining the dish, but that was mostly because I often lost track of time and left it on the stove for too long. This time, I would be especially attentive though, so all should go well.

“How about kedgeree?” asked Cedric.

“Oh! I haven’t had it in years,” Milton said, tightly clenched his hands together, and smiled brightly. There was a shine in his eyes that Cedric knew all too well – though he usually knew it from someone else.

“That’s perfect then,” Cedric replied happily and headed to where he saw the rice being stored.

“But, Kristopher, don’t you think it will take too long to cook? You are hungry – wouldn’t it be better to prepare something quick? Or you’ll have to wait an hour or more until you can finally eat.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Milton. I want to eat, but I would rather eat something ‘proper’ before the Lady gives me a lecture later.” Cedric filled two cups of rice into a pot he had found in a cupboard and carried it to a countertop. “Oh, and, by the way, Milton, if it’s itching you to tell me all the things you know about kedgeree, go ahead.”

Milton chuckled. “Did I give myself away?”

“You forget I spent a lot of time with someone like you,” Cedric said and stopped in his movement for a moment before he picked up his pace again. Quickly, quickly. Gathering the fish, milk, water, a pan…

“Oh, where to start?” began Milton. “The history of kedgeree is a very interesting one as it’s not simply an Indian dish. It is the British adaptation or version of khichdi which is a traditional Indian dish, though it is also very popular amongst Muslims and attracted the attention and curiosity of Europeans and North Africans after the Silk Road was ‘reopened’ in the 13th, 14th century. Back then, Europeans were fairly eager to learn about Indian traditions and customs. This changed with the Age of Discovery. The West began to look down on India. In regards to khichdi, Afanasy Nikitin, one of the first Europeans to travel to India, compared the dish to horse feed in his book A Journey Beyond the Three Seas. While the East India Company still possesses this attitude, it also knows that handling affairs in a different country is easier when you are familiar with its customs.”

“That’s interesting,” Cedric said absentmindedly while he added a few cups of water to the pot with the rice before transferring it from the countertop to the stove. His focus had to be on cooking after all, not on Milton’s story.

“The so-called ‘nabobs’ – a Hindustani word which was used to refer to officials or governors under the Mughal Empire before – from the East India Company…,” Milton continued, but then he abruptly halted when Cedric put the lid on the pot, turned on the stove, and then casually proceeded to prepare the fish for poaching. “Kristopher?”

“Yes, Milton?”

“Uhm, I don’t want to offend you or overstep, not only but especially because you are the one who is putting effort into cooking, so I ask this as kindly as possible and hope not to hurt your feelings, and if I do, I sincerely apologise in advance and afterwards I will apologise again even if you said I should not, but I do believe it would be appropriate in this context and…” Milton took a deep breath. “Kristopher… could it be that you forgot to wash the rice?”

Cedric turned away from the fish and blinked at Milton in bewilderment. “You wash rice?”

They looked at each other for one long moment before Milton said, astonishingly succeeding to sound both close to tears and perfectly polite at once, “Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe… Maybe if you are too tired or too hungry yourself, Kristopher, to prepare something… I… I would be fine with sandwiches, Kristopher.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed just to eat a sandwich or a dozen,” meant Cedric. “However, there’s still the Lady… Us eating sandwiches – and, I suggest, healthy portions of biscuits as well, perhaps even cake if we can find some – would require you to lie to her if she asks.”

“I don’t like to lie, Kristopher.”

Cedric looked at Milton, and his next words were only a moment too late, only a second too hesitant. “I won’t force you to do something you don’t want to do, Milton.”

“That is very kind of you, but…” A little shaky smile appeared on Milton’s lips. “But it’s not a lie when I simply mention your kitchen skills, not what we have eaten today,” he said, and Cedric automatically looked at him in surprise.

“Wonderful!” Cedric quickly exclaimed and turned off the stove, hoping that Milton had not caught him. “I will go ahead and make some sandwiches now,” he added and ran off to find some bread – and, hopefully, some pastries on the way as well.

Coming to think of it… I could not remember having anything sweet after Anaïs’ tea party. No wonder I was so tired.

“Any preferences, Milton?” Cedric called before he pedalled back. “Right. ‘Let’s see first what’s there!’ I’ll let you know and ask then.”

Cedric rummaged in a cupboard and found, to his delight, some bread and a box of biscuits. Humming, he put his findings on a countertop and then headed to the icebox to get some toppings. And while he gathered all he needed, he saw from the corner of his eye Milton fumbling nervously with his sleeves as if he wanted to say something, but still weighted out if he should. Cedric was just about to ask him what was bothering him – could it be that he had forgotten something crucial again? – when Milton’s pent-up words burst out of him on his own. “Do you really believe that Lady Cloudia would be upset if she were to learn that you did not have a ‘proper’ meal for lunch?”

Cedric turned to Milton, staring at him. “Huh?”

“We had a similar conversation before,” it tumbled out of Milton who had turned red in embarrassment. “When we played chess, and you wanted me to tell Lady Cloudia that you were able to deduce that I use people as anchors when it rains because you thought she wouldn’t believe you if you told her yourself.” He looked down at his hands. “And now lunch. I mean she would definitely be glad that you have eaten anything at all. So, uh… I mean… I myself am thoroughly… uh… But you, eh… You cannot possibly think that she truly…” Milton buried his face in his hands. “I am so sorry, Kristopher. I did not intend to offend. Please forget that I’ve even talked at all.”

Cedric scrutinised Milton before he said, “It’s all right, Milton.”

Still, part of me could only wonder what he had wanted to say. “You cannot possibly think that she truly” – what?

***

~Cloudia~

Armelle Peletier had been visiting a friend the night Nadia died. She and the friend had talked over tea and biscuits and had promptly forgotten the time. One hour had turned into two, and before they had known it, it had been night. That was a common occurrence as Armelle and her friend often met up to have conversations that would stretch out into the night, though every other time, Armelle could return to a warm home and be greeted by Nadia.

This time, however, when Armelle had returned home, Nadia was already dead.

From what Yvette had told me, the two women had been very close. They had lived together for decades and had never got married to anyone. I could only wonder how hard it must be for Armelle to have lost someone so dear to her. Knowing this, it was even more awe-striking that she had been able to act so calmly and appropriately.

As the tailor’s shop was closed off, Armelle was staying with the friend she had been with that night, Sylvie Fabron, and her family. The house of the Fabron family was quite small and currently inhabited by eight, and on another day, it would have been easy for only Cloudia to go inside to speak to Armelle, but the rain showed no sign to stop soon or, at least, to become weaker. Having no other options, Cloudia, Yvette, Kamden, and Lisa had to squeeze into the already overstuffed building.

And we had thought that it had been bad at the Duhamel apartment or in Denis’ wagon.

“I’m sorry. It’s not an ideal situation, Détective Gauthier,” said Sylvie, a tall woman with a friendly face and flaxen hair.

“There’s not much anyone can do. Still, thanks for welcoming us,” Cloudia replied and glanced over at Sylvie’s curious children who could barely be restrained by their father. There was not much distance between her and them, and Cloudia was not in the mood to be hounded by children today, so she was quite grateful for the husband’s gallant efforts. Lisa huffed behind her, apparently not as grateful about it as she was. “And it’s simply ‘M Gauthier.’ I am not a detective, only the assistant of one,” Cloudia told Sylvie.

“Right, right.” Sylvie looked over to her family. “Margot,” she called. “Stop jumping on the sofa.” With an apologetic smile, she turned back to Cloudia and the others.

“Don’t worry about that. We will try to keep this quick. We don’t want to impose on you for too long. Where’s Mme Peletier?”

“In the children’s bedroom. She thought it would be better if you and she could talk in private.”

“That’s very sensible of her. Where is this bedroom?”

“I’ll show you to it,” said Sylvie and squeezed herself in-between Kamden and Cloudia to walk ahead.

“You will stay here,” Cloudia said to Yvette, Kamden, and Lisa who could not understand a single word and just looked darkly ahead. “Don’t get hounded by the children,” she added, whispering, and then went to go after Sylvie when Yvette said, “Wait, M Gauthier.”

Cloudia turned around. “Yes, Mlle Guilloux?”

“May I come with you?” Yvette asked. “I know you said we should stay here and wait, but considering that Mme Armelle is not at her best right now, I think it would be better if I came too. After all, she does not know you, and I believe it would be beneficial if there were someone she does know. As support.”

Cloudia tilted her head, pondering about it for a moment. “Very well. You may come.”

“Thank you,” said Yvette, and together they followed Sylvie into a narrow corridor and then to the children’s bedroom.

“Armelle,” Sylvie said and opened the squeaky door. “M Gauthier and Yvette are here to talk to you about Nadia. It won’t take long.”

Sylvie stepped away from the door, allowing Cloudia and Yvette to go inside, and Cloudia could take a look into the room – a small place furnished almost exclusively with beds – and at Armelle Peletier who sat on one of these beds with perfect posture and no single strand of her grey hair out of place. She looked calm and composed – on the surface at least. Still, looking at Armelle now, Cloudia could not understand why Yvette had called her “scattered” earlier.

“Finally. I’ve been waiting,” Armelle said with a steady voice and looked at Cloudia and Yvette with hard blue eyes. There was a hint of fury in their hardness, and now Cloudia understood what was driving Armelle to be as composed and collected as she was.

Truly, she was far from “scattered.”

“I’ll leave you alone now,” Sylvie told her and left, pulling the door closed behind her.

Armelle turned to Cloudia. “M Gauthier, isn’t it? The assistant of the detective from Paris.”

“Indeed.” Cloudia bowed her head. “It is nice to meet you, Mme Peletier. My sincerest condolences.”

The old woman’s face hardened at her words. “You do not have to give me your condolences. It is enough if you find the person who killed Nadia.”

“Mme Armelle,” Yvette suddenly said. “How are you feeling?”

“I am perfectly fine considering the circumstances, Mlle Guilloux,” Armelle answered her, a slight edge to her words that caught Cloudia’s curiosity. Armelle looked intently at Cloudia. “I do not want to hold you up for too long. You have more places to go, I suppose, and this one is a circus packed into a matchbox.”

“At the very least, it is warm,” Cloudia replied with a smile on her lips. “This is always a valuable aspect, especially when the weather is as ghastly as it is now.”

“It is not particularly warm though,” huffed Armelle. “I am a bit cold and uncomfortable right now which could be because I am old or because the warmth that fills this house is mostly generated by the people residing inside it. They are all in the living room. Thus, it is much colder here.”

Cloudia nodded. “Thinking about it, you are right: It does feel colder for me too. I guess it is as ghastly inside as it is outside.”

“I guess so too. Your situation will most likely not improve until you have finished for today and returned to the place where you are currently staying.”

“That seems likely,” said Cloudia and kept her gaze on Armelle, even when she saw from the corner of her eye that Yvette was watching her with a frown on her face. “Now, Mme Peletier, I want to ask you a few questions. Did Mme Nadia Allemand have any enemies here?”

“We are a very close-knit group here. Nadia could be a fairly prickly person – and she could certainly be more than a little hot-headed at times – but I don’t think anyone from here could have made an attempt on her life.”

“Are you sure? The needles used to stab Nadia have been kept in a locked box – a locked tea box to be specific. You must have heard of the stranger that has been sighted in Nanteuil-la-Forêt. Do you think a complete stranger would have been able to find it?”

Armelle huffed again. “Didn’t you find it?” she returned, and Cloudia could not help herself but smile at her words. “What else do you want to know?”

“Did you notice anything odd, weird, out of place in one way or another around the time of Mme Allemand’s death? Or possibly at the crime scene after you found her body?”

For a second, Armelle’s eyes softened with sadness before they hardened yet again. “Nothing is ever perfect,” she said. “Our life here was – is – far from perfect, but this is not out of the ordinary. As to the shop… It is not mine, so I cannot tell you what was off there and what was not.”

“I see.” Cloudia sat down on one of the beds and it creaked under her weight. “The other victims,” she began. “Dominique Duhamel, Gustave and Marius Beaubois. Was Mme Allemand connected to any of them? Did she know any of them better? Did you, Mme Peletier?”

“What do you think, M Gauthier?” returned Armelle. “What business could we have with those children? We are fellow villagers and see each other here and there; I was often served by Dominique when I went to his parents’ bakery and he was helping out. There is not much to exchange between them and us. It is not as if we had any common interests. Nadia certainly never cared for woodwork. All she cared for was tailoring and…” She trailed off and briefly looked away.

Cloudia’s gaze softened. “Thank you, Mme Peletier. That would be all.”

***

~Cedric~

He had told Milton to continue his little lecture on kedgeree even if that’s not what they would be eating anymore. And so, Milton talked and talked while Cedric cut bread, buttered slices, arranged different fillings with absurd care. Just because he did not make a “fancy” meal anymore did not mean that he could be lax preparing the sandwiches. Even though he was tired. Even though he usually threw everything he could find between two slices of bread and called it a day.

Milton’s words were white noise to Cedric, but now and then, a word or phrase would reach him clearly: East India Company, Stephana Malcolm, adapting. Milton finished his talk before Cedric could complete his meticulously and artistically arranged sandwiches. For a moment, it was perfectly silent in the kitchen except for the knife’s chopping noises as Cedric quickly cut up a cucumber. All this lasted less than ten minutes, and when Cedric turned around, he let out a joyful, “Voilà!”, hoping for a smile, maybe even an appreciative clap, but Milton did not react to his exclamation at all. Instead, he was staring at his arms like that day when Cedric found him in the library, and Cedric’s heart sank.

Just like then, it rained now. Just like then, Cedric stepped forward and said, “Milton? Are you all right?”

Just like then, Milton flinched. But this time, he could steady himself sooner, could shake himself free sooner from whatever had befallen him. “I am…,” he began and then bit on his lip. “I did not mean to ignore you, Kristopher. I was lost in thought,” Milton continued with an apologetic smile on his lips. He looked a bit paler than before Cedric had turned his attention to the sandwiches. He had been so ghostly pale before, Cedric was surprised Milton had not become translucent.

In fact, I always surprised that he was not translucent. His presence was so faint; he could just as well be an actual ghost.

But he was also so alive – full of bright smiles, shining eyes, and nervous energy – that you only tripped over that thought, never dwelt on it for too long.

And maybe that’s what was unnerving me now: That there seemed nothing “left” of what made Milton Milton. That his life seemed dampened, and he looked so lost and faint that the thought of him as a ghost could catch on and linger.

“What did you say? I was unable to catch your words,” Milton added.

“I’m done with the sandwiches,” said Cedric dully. “But, say, Milton, are you fine?”

“Of course, I am. I am always fine,” he replied and stood up. Briefly, Milton brushed over his trousers, and when he looked up, his gaze gentled at the sight of the expression on Cedric’s face. “I am perfectly well physically, Kristopher. I told you.” He walked to the countertop where the plates of sandwiches rested. “They look delectable, Kristopher. Do you want to eat here or somewhere else?”

“It’s only that you do not seem ‘fine,’” Cedric said before he could contain himself, and Milton stared at him, seeming just as startled and surprised as Cedric was of himself. “I do not want to be inquisitive, but please tell me if something is amiss. Not that I think that you are lying; after all, you said that you do not like to lie. It’s just that I suspect that you may be downplaying the severity of your state not to make me or anyone else worry. The last thing I want is to have you collapse on me as I would have to carry you through this godforsaken château to your room – and it is something I simply cannot do.”

Cedric took a deep breath, and he did not know if the words kept pouring out of him because he was tired or because of something else, “Milton, I do not appreciate it if someone does not tell me about the state of their health.”

Milton looked at him, his eyes wide, and Cedric cursed at himself for having been unable to keep the words from surfacing, to keep them away from Milton. Milton with his current fixation on “reading” people – a fixation Cedric had figured out.

What was wrong with me? I might not always pay the best attention, but I was not that scatter-brained or easy.

I rubbed my eyes. Sleep. I needed sleep. Food and sleep.

“I see,” said Milton finally before Cedric could sort himself out and try to take his words back. “I know you said that I should cease to apologise constantly, but I do believe that I should apologise now: Because you are right.”

Cedric stared at him, and Milton leaned against the countertop. “I reiterate that I am physically fine as I am ‘ailed’ with nothing but simple ‘phantom pain.’ Still, I have to admit that I was not quite truthful when it came to its intensity.” He dug his fingers into the stone. “This will sound silly – I know it does – but the reason why I withheld this from you is that I do not wish her to know. You are doing your best to accommodate my presence, but I know that I am a burden, an outsider here. I know that Lady Cloudia is not quite at peace with the fact that she has brought me into this situation although I had my say in this too. I do not want her to know that I am doing worse than I told her I do so that I will not burden her any further. Not when she seems to be preoccupied with something else. Not after I…” Shakily, Milton ran a hand through his hair. “I do not believe that you will run to tell her all I am telling you now. Still, at the same time, I wanted to keep this with me so that I could ensure that it would never reach her one way or the other, though I now realise how unfair all this is to you, Kristopher, as you have been so friendly to agree to spend the day with me in this miserable state of mine. For this, I apologise.

“The truth is, Kristopher, that my ‘ghost pain’ has been significantly more intense than usual in the last few days. As I told you before, commonly, it is fairly moderate; I have learned to live with it even if I have not overcome it. Now, however, it is different, and I am doing my best to contain myself. It seems that I am not doing a particularly good job at it though.” He put a hand on his chest above his heart and the other still held vice-like onto the countertop. “I feel… heavy in a way I rarely do. Something inside me feels heavy in a way that only happens on days of great distress. The source of this is not always clearly identifiable. This time, it is. I suppose those ‘unforeseen problems’ I have told you about are vexing me more than I want to admit – and this reflects itself in the heightened intensity of my ‘memory pain.’” Milton’s fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt and the expression in his eyes was one Cedric could not quite define, though it still managed to make his heart heavy with empathy. “I only hope that I am not too late,” said Milton which such a low voice that, if had there been a single noise in the kitchen, Cedric would have never been able to hear his words.

Milton shook his head and stepped away from the countertop. His movement was still shaky, though he stood firmly and solidly. “I hope you can forgive me that I have not been fully truthful to you in this case, Kristopher. You shouldn’t have had to lay out your discomfort about this to me like that.” Then, a little smile spread across his lips. “Now, do you want to eat here or somewhere else?”

***

~Cloudia~

After Cloudia and Yvette had said goodbye to Armelle, Cloudia had to help Kamden wrestle free from little Margot, who was apparently the biggest troublemaker of her family and who had jumped at an unwitting Kamden to get a piggyback ride. Then, she, Kamden, Lisa, and Yvette left the little house of the Fabrons and headed to the church where Dominique had been hanged.

According to Yvette, they were halfway there when a figure came running towards them through the pouring rain. Even if this turnout would have been wholly unsatisfying and boring, Cloudia wished for the mysterious runner to be the culprit and was ready to attack them if it was needed. After all, no matter if it was boring or unsatisfying, it would mean that she could finally get out of this damned rain and back to the château to focus on what she had come for in the first place.

All for the sake of this investigation. I just hoped that I – or Kamden or Lisa for that matter – would not get sick afterwards.

The figure halted in front of them and then proceed to gasp for air like a fish on land. When the person had finally caught themselves and straightened up, Cloudia could vaguely make out that it was a man.

“Élève Officier Hector Monteil,” he introduced himself, and Cloudia frowned. Considering the state of the village, she had thought that, for some reason, Nanteuil-la-Forêt had been deemed too unremarkable to need a brigade from the Gendarmerie nationale.

“Officier Monteil, I wondered where you have been,” said Yvette to Cloudia’s surprise.

“M Descombes told me you would be at the inn or the bakery or the Beaubois’ home, but you were always already gone by the time I arrived. I wandered around to try to find you, only this rain makes it very hard to find anything at all…,” Hector replied, and Cloudia had to strain to make out what he was saying against the rain and wind.

“Maybe we should continue talking at the church,” she suggested. To her delight, everyone agreed and they hurried to get to the double chapel which rose darkly from the ground in the heavy rain, a ghastly transformed dark building reaching to the sky.

At the door, they were greeted by a clergyman who told them to wait until the priest would come to them. Then, he ran off to get them some towels and blankets which Cloudia greatly appreciated.

Cloudia pulled off her hood and shook off the rain from her clothes as best as she could, wondering if she could ever feel truly dry again or if the feeling of wetness would follow her from now on. She turned to Hector.

“Élève Officier Monteil,” she said. “Now that we can see each other well and don’t have to yell to understand the other’s words, I would like to introduce myself: Jean Gauthier, assistant of the Parisian detective Alexandre Vidocq. Very pleased to meet you.”

Hector shook his reddish-blond hair in an attempt to dry it, but they only stayed up wildly from his head now. In the candlelight of the church, he looked remarkably young – he seemed to be barely older than Cloudia –, and his messy hair only highlighted his youth. “Élève Officier Hector Monteil,” he returned. “M Descombes told me all about you. I’m sorry that I could not be with you yesterday. Mme Allard’s cat was stuck on a tree, and she asked me for help. Only I’ve never been the best climber, though I am working on it, and the cat was not very cooperative. Then, I went to the townhall to speak to M Descombes, but he was busy and I had to wait for quite some time until I found out that you were already here and when I went to find you, I got lost…”

Cloudia blinked at him in disbelief and then forced a smile on her lips. “Officier Monteil, do not worry about this. Rather, I’m quite surprised that you are stationed here in the first place. Neither Mlle Guilloux nor M Descombes ever mentioned you to me.” She looked at Yvette.

“I am very sorry, M Gauthier,” she said. “I did not think you needed to know of Officier Monteil as he has only come here a week ago and has, to be honest, not contributed much to the situation.”

“Is that true, Officier Monteil?”

“Yes,” Hector said sheepishly. “I haven’t been here for very long and am still getting used to everything.”

The clergyman from earlier returned with the promised and towels and blankets which he distributed to everyone. Cloudia rubbed herself dry as best as she could, but the towel was quickly completely soaked, and she ended up in a half-damp, half-dry state. At least, it was still an improvement.

“There are usually six gendarmes in a village,” Cloudia said to Hector and handed the towel to the clergyman before she wrapped herself in the blanket. “Where are the others?”

Hector smiled uneasily. “The day after I came here, my superiors were called in as reinforcements for a large-scale incident that is going on in a nearby town.”

“And they simply left you here alone?”

“Yes. They said ‘Nothing ever happens here, Hector. You will be fine.’”

Well, at least, this was another indicator that the murderer might not be an outsider at all. It couldn’t be that much of a coincidence for a stranger to come into Nanteuil-la-Forêt to kill its inhabitants a few days after all of the village’s competent police officers had left.

On the other hand, Hector was a stranger to the village. And while it did not seem like he was capable of committing murder and definitely not multiple ones without getting caught immediately, I did not want to rule out this possibility. Even the most outrageous things could be true, and appearances could be deceiving.

“Very well,” said Cloudia slowly. The others handed their towels to the clergyman as well, and as soon as he had all he left. “Officier Monteil, what were you doing when Mme Allemand died? When the others did?”

Hector scratched his head. “Mme Peletier found the corpse and went to the townhall. M Descombes tried to wake me up in the barracks, but I’ve always been a very heavy sleeper and did not find out that anything happened until I went to see M Descombes in the morning. And when M Duhamel’s corpse was found, I was exploring the forest because I wanted to become familiar with my new surroundings and got lost… M Descombes was quite surprised that I was alive by the time I found my way back as he and everyone else assumed that I had been killed as well with the murderer potentially raising their victim count every night or something. And, as I said, I was helping Mme Allard with her cat when M Gustave Beaubois’ body was discovered.”

Cloudia was spared from having to smile through another response when a tall man with brown hair and a beard approached them. He was completely clad in black.

“Good afternoon,” the man said. “I am Marcel Royer, the priest of Nanteuil-la-Forêt’s church. I already know Yvette and Officier Monteil, but who are you?” The question seemed to be directed at Lisa, Kamden, and Cloudia, but Marcel only looked at Kamden who tensed up a bit.

“Grégoire Fouille,” he stammered, and Cloudia stepped forward. “Good afternoon, M l'Abbé. I’m Jean Gauthier, Détective Vidocq’s assistant. My colleague, M Fouille, is also from the Parisian police, and Mlle Ledoux here is his assistant.”

Marcel lowered his head as a greeting. “I welcome you here. I am beyond grateful that you are here and hopeful that you will find the person who killed Dominique and dared to defile this sacred place. If you may follow me.” He walked down the corridor, and Cloudia went to walk beside him, the others following in their wake.

“I cannot show you where Dominique’s body was found because of the rain,” Marcel told Cloudia. “But I will show you the access to the roof.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “While we go there, I have a few questions for you.”

“I am in your service, M Gauthier.”

“Dominique Duhamel, does he have any kind of connection to the church?”

“He and his parents attend church every Sunday, but everyone else does too. His mother was also good friends with my late wife Béatrice, so our families were always close.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Marcel nodded. “My wife and Solange would often help out in the church, and Dominique would accompany his mother now and then. A very nice boy. And so were Gustave and Marius. They regularly assisted their father to deliver wood or to mend a few things here and there.”

“So, does this mean that they spent a lot of time here?”

“Yes,” said Marcel. “Especially Dominique. He would come here whenever he could.”

“Was there someone in this church – a clergyman or a churchgoer – that did not get along with M Duhamel? Or someone he did not get along with?” Cloudia continued as they walked to the ambulatory and, from there, up a narrow staircase, passing by various clergymen on the way down.

“I do not believe that there was anyone he did not get along with.” The priest looked at Cloudia. “Are you insinuating that Dominique was murdered by one of us? I know every single resident of Nanteuil-la-Forêt. They are all good, fine people. I would stake my life for them all. The sinner in our midst is not one of us: It is this man that has come to our village and brought chaos with him.”

“But even friends quarrel,” Cloudia interjected. “You all may get along wonderfully most of the time, but has there been no instance when one of you was upset at another?”

“Not that I recall. Even if there were quarrels, I highly doubt they would have led to such bloodshed,” Marcel stated and came to a halt. Cloudia and the others stopped too. The staircase had led them to the second floor, not to an attic, and did not go any farther, and Cloudia could not spot another. She had no idea how she could reach the roof from here to hang a man.

“Please stay away,” Marcel ordered before he walked to one of the walls of the double chapel and looked at them – or, rather, he talked to them all but only looked at Cloudia. “This church was built in the 12th century, but, in the 17thcentury, when Baron Lambert de Charbonneau let his château be built in this area, he offered to renovate it. My predecessor accepted this generous offer. However, the Baron did not only let the church be cleaned and restored, he also commissioned a few additions to be made.” Marcel raised his hand to a torch holder and turned it. Immediately, a piece of the upper part of the wall moved to the side and created an opening that, though it was situated higher than the windows, could be easily reached by climbing on a chair or table. The opening was also large enough for an adult – or two – to fit through. The howl of the rain that had been kept out relatively well by the stones fully reached them now, filling the church with noise. “The Baron was said to be a paranoid man,” Marcel continued, “and had this mechanism installed as the last escape as, from here, you can reach a small landing and climb down the wall from there. You can also step on the landing and climb upwards to the roof. This is the easiest way to access it.”

Cloudia stepped forward, not caring whether she got hit by stray rain. “Very interesting,” she said, keeping the excitement out of her voice as much as possible. “Who knows of this?”

Marcel turned the torch holder back into its old position and the piece of the wall slid back into place. Only a wet area on the ground indicated that there had ever been an opening. “Not many. I and two more clergymen. This may be the easiest way to get to the roof, but there was never a need to use it. There was never a need to escape from here. And when we have to do repairs on the roof, it is easier to simply use ladders as it is a chore to get the materials through such an opening.”

“When so few people know about this secret opening, why do you think that the culprit used it to hang Dominique Duhamel?” Cloudia wanted to know.

“I live in a house from where I can see the church,” Marcel informed her. “The night Dominique died I could not find sleep and decided to read my Bible and make further preparations for the service that day. This has been a common occurrence since my wife passed two years ago and I have become quite accustomed to being awake at such late hours. I believe them to be very calming hours due to the silence and peace they bring. Only they did not that night, but I would not know that until later. Anyway, I have the best view of the church from my study – and I am always fascinated by its appearance at night: Its outline set aglow by moon- and starlight.

“The night Dominique died, I often looked over to the church, marvelled at its quiet beauty, and not once did I see a person climbing the roof with a ladder. Thus, the culprit must have taken the Baron’s route. It is the only other way to access the roof.”

“Could you not have simply missed the murderer hanging M Duhamel’s body?”

Marcel shook his head. “No, I could not. I… I was the one who spotted Dominique’s body. One moment there was nothing unusual about the church, I turned my attention to my Bible, and when I looked up again and out of the window, he was hanging there. I would have noticed it if there had been a ladder involved. There had been no time for the culprit to set it up and put it away.”

“These two clergymen who also know about the Baron’s route, do you think they could have committed this crime?” asked Cloudia. “Beside them being ‘good, fine people,’ of course.”

The priest looked at her. “They are both elder men. I doubt they would have the strength to carry Dominique’s body up a roof.”

“I see.”

“Also, it may be possible that the stranger found the mechanism by chance. It is not particularly well-hid and easy to handle after all. Only I don’t know when this could have happened,” Marcel said. “I have not seen him at the church at all.”

Cloudia let her eye wander through the second storey of the church, noted everything. “Thank you very much for your cooperation, M l'Abbé. This was all very interesting and insightful.”

***

Marcel guided them back downstairs and just as they passed the altar, the sight of it making Cloudia smile involuntarily, they were approached by a very beautiful girl with auburn hair and a lovely smile. “Papa,” the girl said to Marcel and kissed him on the cheek.

“Mlle Ledoux, M Gauthier, M Fouille,” Marcel said, turning to them but only fixing his eyes on Kamden. “May I introduce you to my daughter Nicolette?”

“Hello, Mlle Nicolette,” said Cloudia, smiling, and Nicolette curtsied to them all. “Good afternoon. I almost thought I missed you,” she said sweetly. “I was very eager to meet you to give you my thanks for helping us when you do not have to and to wish you luck for your investigation.”

“Thank you. We greatly appreciate your luck wishes,” Cloudia replied, and Nicolette beamed at her words. “You’re welcome, M…”

“Gauthier.”

“M Gauthier! I also hope that you all can stay after the storm has passed and the matter has been settled. Nanteuil-la-Forêt is usually such a lovely place, and it would not be right and a shame if you only carried bad memories from here to Paris. No one should be left with bad memories only.”

She smiled at Lisa and Kamden, and Kamden took a small step back, clearly overwhelmed by being watched by both Royers. “We… we will try,” he replied, and Lisa only crossed her arms in front of her.

“I hope you will find the time,” Nicolette said and then turned to Hector. “Officier Hector, how are you? Do you still feel sore after falling down the tree?”

“No, I’m feeling great again,” Hector told her and stood upright.

“That is wonderful to hear!” Nicolette curtsied again. “I apologise for not being able to talk longer, but you must be incredibly busy and I do not wish to delay you – and I promised Antonin to help him with something. Good luck again and until another time,” she said and gave her father another kiss on the cheek before she walked to one of the transepts.

“Your daughter is quite friendly,” Cloudia remarked. “She reminds me a little of someone I know. Is she, by any chance, like this to everyone she meets?”

“Yes, since the day she was born,” Marcel said and led them down the nave. “My wife and I always marvelled where she got that energy from. She has always been a ray of sunshine and never afraid to talk to anyone. Nicolette is friendly to everyone in Nanteuil-la-Forêt; there is no one she dislikes and no one who dislikes her.

“Here, we must say goodbye,” he said when they reached the door where the clergyman that had brought them the blankets took them back. “I wish you the best for your investigation. If you need my help again, please feel free to come to me.”

“Thank you, M l'Abbé,” Cloudia replied. “And goodbye.”

With a nod, the priest walked down the nave again and the clergyman followed him, leaving them alone by the door. At this moment, the bell chimed five, and Cloudia cursed under her breath. “Grégoire, Maryse,” she said, turning her gaze to Kamden and Lisa. “As I said before and as it was agreed on, it is time for us to split up. Mlle Guilloux and I will head to the inn to see whether Maxime has returned to it. In the meantime, you will go on ahead to the hospital to inspect the bodies. Is that still all right with you?”

Cloudia could see that Kamden was a little weary of the thought of leaving her alone, but he nodded anyway and said, “Of course, Jean. Just take care.”

She smiled at him. “I will.” She looked at Hector. “Officier Monteil, do you know how to get to the hospital from here?”

Hector scratched his head. “Hm, yes, I do.”

“Can you bring Maryse and Grégoire there?” He nodded. “Fantastic. Thanks. Let us meet in about two hours at the hospital.”

***

~Cedric~

It had taken me a moment until I had been able to shake myself partially free from the trance-like state I had entered when Milton started to speak. Afterwards, I had told him that a place “with proper chairs and a table” would be good, and we had gone off to find a drawing room.

Now, we were sitting in the salon where he, Cecelia, and I had talked and drunk days before. Milton was praising my sandwiches and I… I was eating silently, nodding now and then, my head too clouded to reply anything, to contribute anything to the conversation.

“Did I upset you?” said Milton, tearing Cedric out of his messy, tangled thoughts. And as he was transported back to the here and now, Cedric realised for the first time that they had already eaten all the sandwiches and that, apparently, Milton had brewed a pot of tea. A cup of it, untouched and certainly cold, was in front of him on the table.

Good Heavens, how deep in thought had I been?!

“Hm?”

Milton tugged on his sleeves. “You have been so silent ever since our conversation in the kitchen. I wondered if I greatly upset you with what I said and…”

“No, it’s not that. I…” Cedric sighed and sacked against the back of his armchair. “I may be more tired than I thought…”

“Oh no,” said Milton and jumped up from his seat. “Come, I’ll bring you back to your room.” He walked to Cedric and held out his hand.

“You’re not doing well yourself either, Milton,” Cedric remarked, blinking at Milton’s hand.

“Well, I have my notebook to navigate us through the château, and I believe I can do it as long as I concentrate on you and don’t let my thoughts wander elsewhere.”

Cedric took Milton’s hand and let himself be helped very carefully out of the armchair. “Oh,” Milton said, and then assisted Cedric to half-sit on the armrest. “I forgot that we need to bring back the crockery.” He shifted from one leg to the other. “I’ll ring Batteux. I guess you are incapable of going back to the kitchen before we head to your room and I don’t want to leave you alone while I bring everything back on my own. Wait here.”

Cedric nodded, not wanting to do anything anymore. Milton went to a row of bells that were placed on one of the salon’s walls and which were directly connected to the servants’ quarters. A few moments later, Batteux appeared, and Milton talked to him before he came and helped Cedric to stand up again. Milton grabbed his notebook, but right in front of the door, he realised that none of his hands was free – with one he held his notebook, with the other he steadied Cedric –, and Batteux had to come to open the door for them.

“What an odd pair we are,” Cedric mused as they walked through the corridors. “We are barely functioning on our own, but still go through it all together.”

Milton smiled at his words. “We surely are.”

“We must look like two drunk, weaving men.”

“Possibly,” replied Milton. “Kristopher, do you mind standing up on your own for a moment? I need to check something.”

“Sure,” Cedric said, and as soon as Milton let go of him, he noticed the full extent of his sleep deprivation. Standing perfectly upright in one moment, nearly falling over in the next. If the wall had not been there to catch him, Cedric would have surely fallen face-first into the ground – and how embarrassing that would have been in front of Milton.

Milton had been on the verge of fainting multiple times today, and even he could still stand properly. Maybe I should have drunk that tea. The caffeine in it would have helped, at least, a bit.

“Give me a few more moments,” said Milton and thumbed through his notes. Cedric pushed himself away from the wall but kept one hand on it. He braced himself from removing it and standing fully on his own when he heard familiar voices in the distance. Familiar children’s voices. And while Cedric did not know what they were saying, it did not sound as if Anaïs, Arnaud, and Gerard were particularly happy.

What could trouble them so much?

Soon, Cedric did not only hear the children’s voices, but could also see them walking in their direction, and the second they spotted Cedric and Milton as well, Anaïs, waving her hands and hurrying towards them, exclaimed, “Duke Kristopher! Baron Milton!”

Milton looked up from his notebook and smiled at the children. “Hello,” he said. “What do you have there?” he added when Arnaud and Gerard joined them. Only then did Cedric notice that Arnaud was carrying a large golden birdcage. It was an intricately manufactured beast of a cage, albeit not one designed for a living animal: Inside the cage resided a bird figure. Or, at least, it would have “resided” in there had it not been lying on the cage’s ground as if it was dead.

Arnaud held up the cage with a sombre look on his face. “We found this clock amongst Baron de Charbonneau’s possessions. It is so beautiful and can even sing, so we were quite fascinated by it and jumped along with the melody… but then we brushed against the clock. It fell and isn’t working anymore. We tried to fix it, but only managed to let the bird fall too…”

Anaïs nodded, and Gerard whimpered. She took his hand and squeezed it. “Our parents will be very cross with us if they find out. This must be a very expensive and valuable piece. I’ve not seen anything like it before.”

“This is a clock?” asked Cedric while he rubbed his eyes and fought back a yawn.

“It is,” Arnaud replied and turned the cage so that Cedric could see the clock-face on one of its sides.

“That’s one weird clock, don’t you think, Milton?” Cedric turned to Milton who was scrutinising the birdcage, his eyes glowing with fascination and excitement.

“A Jaquet-Droz,” sighed Milton and put his notebook under his arm before asking Arnaud, “May I?”

Arnaud nodded and handed Milton the clock. “I’ve read about them,” Milton said without taking his eyes off the cage. “But I have never imagined that, one day, I would hold one of Jaquet-Droz’s singing birdcage clocks.”

Anaïs tilted her head. “Jaquet-Droz?”

“Pierre Jaquet-Droz, a mechanic and watchmaker who built the first singing bird boxes or cages. He and his partner Jean-Frédéric Leschot were pioneers and geniuses in the art of automata and…” A bright smile spread across Milton’s face, a smile that could wipe all shadows away. “And I am holding one of their creations.”

Arnaud and Anaïs exchanged nervous glances. “So you’re saying that it is a very, veryexpensive and important clock?” she said.

“Yes, but it’s not unfixable.” Milton looked up from the clock, and his eyes shone with such vitality that Cedric could not believe that this was the same person as the one who had broken down in the library and had looked so sad and lost in the kitchen. Hell, even that he was the same person as the one he had met at that party and who had travelled with him here from Dover. Then, Milton’s smile became a little shaky, a little sheepish as he asked, “May I try my hand on it?”

Arnaud blinked at him. “Are you saying you can fix it, Lord Milton?”

“I… I…” Milton gazed down at the cage in his hands. “I can try. I have some tools in my room.” He turned to Cedric. “But I have to bring Kristopher to his room first.”

“We can go to your room first, Milton,” Cedric told him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I may be sleepy, but I also want to see this curious clock running – if you can do it.”

Milton took a deep breath. “If that’s what you want, Kristopher. Arnaud, may you be so kind and carry the clock again?”

Arnaud nodded and took it from Milton, and Milton went to steady Cedric who was quite thankful not to have to stand on his own anymore even if he did not say so. With the children guiding them through the château, their little journey to Milton’s room went relatively quickly. It might have gone even quicker if Cedric had not been actively fighting not to fall asleep here and now and if his limbs had not felt as heavy as they did. Still, he did not regret that he had not taken Milton’s offer to help him back to his own room first. After all, he did want to see the clock run and hear the bird sing, albeit not as much as he wanted to learn whether Milton could truly repair it.

To satisfy my own curiosity, I told myself. Not Cecelia’s,I kept telling myself.

Gerard and Anaïs walked ahead, and Anaïs told Cedric and Milton about what else they had done today besides accidentally damaging an ornate birdcage clock. Now and then, Arnaud and even Gerard chipped in, and Cedric was grateful they did as it did not only help to distract Milton – though the appearance of a Jaquet-Droz had sufficiently taken his mind off the persevering rain – but also kept Cedric awake.

When they finally reached Milton’s room, Anaïs opened the door and bolted inside, dragging little Gerard after her. Arnaud halted at the doorsill, waited for Cedric and Milton, and only went inside when they caught up. Right after they stepped into the room, Milton loosened his grip on Cedric and asked him something, but Cedric did not hear his question because, as soon as he had taken a look at Milton’s room, his sleepiness had fallen away.

He felt wide awake. His mind was racing, captivated by the fact that Milton’s room was disturbingly untouched.

#Watchdog of the Queen #IT'S HERE #IT IS HERE #main chapters #kuroshitsuji #cloudia phantomhive #undertaker #fanfiction

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Save A Spot For Me

Fandom: Marvel (College AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

As requested by anonymous: Bucky Barnes x reader where he always saves a spot for her in their one uni class and everyone noticed and ships them

You: sooooo...here’s the thing..

Bucky: late again.

You: yup. save a seat for me?

Bucky: of course

You: 😁 thanks!

Bucky shakes his head with a fond look on his face. He pulls open the door to his next class, one that you share with him. When he entered the lecture hall, there were already a few students in their preferred seats. 

Bucky made his way to one of the middle rows, choosing a seat for him and then proceeding to place his things in the seat beside him, a place for you. As he dug out his supplies for the class, his buddy, Sam, waltzed into the room, heading straight for the seat next to Bucky, the one he was saving for you. 

As soon as Sam grabbed for Bucky’s bag, he was stopped, “Hey, hey! Woah! That’s Y/N’s seat!”

Sam snorted, “And where’s Y/N right now?”

Bucky shrugged, “Said she was gonna be late.”

Sam shook his head, “Snooze, you lose!” he proceeds to move Bucky’s bag to the floor and sits in the seat that was preserved for you.

The brunette frowned, “You couldn’t have just sat in the other chair beside me?” with a shake of his head, Bucky moved his things to the other chair next to him. He then pulled out his notes and began to read the content from last lecture. 

Soon enough, more and more students began to file into the hall. Whenever one would come up to Bucky, they’d ask, “Y/N’s seat?” to which he’d give them a sorry look accompanied with a nod. However, many didn’t seem too upset. Oddly enough, people would smirk at him or give him a knowing look. 

“Why are people looking at me weird whenever I say that I’m saving a seat for Y/N?”

Sam chuckled, “Probably because we can all see how much you like her?”

Bucky scoffed, “What? No! I-I don’t like her! We’re just friends!”

“Mhmmmmm, keep tellin’ yourself that, man,” Sam gave a looking showing that he was unconvinced by Bucky’s words. 

Bucky frowned. He opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted when Professor Coulson entered the room. His mouth shut immediately and he picked up his pen, ready to take notes. 

____________

You absolutely hated living off campus. Well, no, that’s not entirely true. Living off campus meant you didn’t have to deal with the RAs, campus police, annoying floor mates, sharing bathrooms with 50+ people, etc. You had more privacy, a bathroom you had to shared with 3 people, and amazing roommates. The downside was not having the convenience of being closer to your classes. Instead, you had to take the bus to campus and the bus was never reliable. Like today. The bus driver decided to take a different route to the college than the usual and it’s going to make you late. Again! This will be your fourth tardy to class and you’re really hoping Coulson doesn’t rip you a new one in front of everybody. 

At least Bucky said he’ll save you a seat. He’s a nice person like that. A nice person with gorgeous blue eyes, a beautiful smile, soft chocolate brown hair-UGH! Get it together, Y/N! You can’t crush on your friend like that. Was he a friend? You don’t really hang out outside of class. And you two usually only text about school. Maybe he’s not a friend then. But you’d like to be his friend...maybe more. 

The bus finally arrives to campus and you mutter, “Finally!” under your breath as you practically hop off the vehicle and run towards the lecture hall. You’re twenty minutes late. 

You head towards the back door of the lecture hall, slipping in as quietly as you can. You look down to see Bucky and you tip toe over to his row, whispering apologies to the students you pass. Bucky spots you and shoots a smile, removing his bag from your spot. You’re grateful that Coulson’s back is to you as he’s drawing a graph onto the board. 

Just as you’re about to sit down, Coulson calls out your name, “Y/N, you know the rules.”

Everyone’s eyes turn to you, staring expectedly. You sigh, straightening your form as you stand, “I’m Y/N L/N and I’m late because my bus driver thought it was a good idea to take a different route to campus, which made me twenty-five minutes late to class.”

Coulson nodded when you sat down, “Alright. Now as I was saying-”

You drown out Coulson’s voice as you hurriedly open your notebook to write down all of the notes he’d put on the board. When he begins to erase them, you open your mouth to tell him to wait, but Bucky’s hand lands on your arm. He scribbles down something at the corner of his page. You lean in and read it:

Don’t worry. You can copy my notes later. ;)

Your shoulders deflate with relief and you mouth, “Thank you,” to him. 

He shrugs and mouths back, “You’re welcome,” then goes back to writing out his notes. 

After class, Coulson calls you up to his desk and you feel yourself tense as you approach, “Yes, sir?”

“So, I hate to do this, because you’re actually a really great student and you’re doing so well in my class, but I do have to give you a warning that if you’re late again, that’s an automatic absence.”

You nod understandingly, “I know, sir. I don’t mean to be late, you know. It’s just the bus-”

“I understand, but why doesn’t your boyfriend give you a ride?”

You look at him confusedly, “Boyfriend?”

“Barnes,” he says with a smirk, “The guy who always saves you a seat and secretly gives you heart eyes whenever you speak up in class?”

You honestly didn’t know what to say to that, “O-Oh, uh, Bucky and I-”

“Babe, you ready to go?” you look to the door and see Bucky’s head popping in. 

“Uh, yeah?” you say unsurely. 

He nods, “Let’s go then! Sam and Steve are waiting for us so we can head to lunch!”

“O-Okay!” you say and shoot a nervous smile to Coulson, who’s practically beaming at you. You wave at your professor and exit the lecture hall. 

You then frown at Bucky, “Why’d you do that? Now he thinks we’re dating!”

He chuckles, “You make it sound like a bad thing.” you follow him as he continues to walk towards the cafe, “Besides, you don’t wanna embarrass the guy, do ya?”

You snort, “Why not? He embarrasses me all the time!”

“Which is you fault, by the way,” Bucky says with a pointed look.

You feign offense and point a finger at him, “It’s not my fault and you know it, Barnes!”

_______________________

The day after that, you get to campus early, as you told Bucky via texting him a selfie of you on campus. He proceeds to send you a selfie back showing you he’s already at the hall with a seat saved for you. 

He waits patiently as you make your way over, doodling in his sketchbook yet another picture of you. So deep into his doodling, he doesn’t notice one of his classmates settling in the seat next to him, until another classmate from behind speaks up. 

“Hey, blondie! You better take a different spot! Barnes doesn’t like anyone else sitting next to him other than his tardy girlfriend!” 

Bucky grunts in dismay when he realizes Brock Rumlow, the campus asshole, is speaking. He looks over his shoulder with a frown, “Shut up, Rumlow, before you dumb down everyone’s IQ!” he then turns to his classmate with a sorry expression, “Sorry about him...Sharon, right?”

She nods, “Yeah, and sorry. I didn’t know this was Y/N’s seat. I usually sit up front, but my neck is starting to hurt since he’s been using the overhead lately. I’ll move down a seat.”

“I really am sorry.”

She shakes his head, “Don’t be. I think it’s cute that you do that for Y/N. You really like her, huh?”

Bucky feels his face start to heat up, “Well, uh, yeah.”

“You guys would make such a cute couple. You should ask her out! In fact, bring her to movie night that my sorority is holding for the school! It’s a thriller movie so if she gets scared, you can hold her and stuff.”

He nervously chuckles, “Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”

“I hope you mean about the movie and not asking her out. Because you should definitely do it,” she sends him a wink and then moves down a seat. 

A few minutes later, you burst into the room, earning a few playful hollers and applause from some students. You take a bow and then continue to climb the steps towards your seat. You carefully place a coffee cup onto Bucky’s desk, “Here.”

He takes it with a scrunch of his nose, “What’s this for?”

You settle in your seat and gave a shrug, “I mean, you save me a spot for every class. You don’t have to, but you do. So thanks for saving me the effort of looking like a dumbass for searching the room for an empty spot.”

“You’re welcome, but it’s not a big deal.”

“Still. I wanna thank you.”

“While I appreciate the coffee, maybe you can thank me another way?” he then slaps himself on the forehead, “Wait! I just realized how that sounds and that’s not what I meant!”

You throw your head back with a cackle, “I didn’t think of it that way at first, but now that you pointed it out, yeah, it sounds wrong.”

Bucky groans, “Sorry. Sorry. Anyway, what I meant was that...maybe you wanna...go on a date sometime?”

“S-Sure!” you say surprisingly. 

“Great!” Bucky says with much relief, “I hear there’s a movie night comin’ up. Wanna go?”

“I heard it’s a scary movie so I’ll definitely be covering my eyes for most of the film, but sure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand and protect you if need be,” he says with a smirk. 

“HALLELUJAH! PRAISE THE LORD!” a booming voice echoes throughout the lecture hall. All eyes land on Sam, who’s standing on the other side of Bucky. He cups his hands around his mouth and hollers, “LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND THOSE IN-BETWEEN, JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES HAS FINALLY ASKED Y/N L/N OUT!” students from all over the room burst into applause and cheers which makes you and Bucky want the ground to open up and eat you both. 

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel au #au #college au

[taelme]

Spiderman!Eric

genre: spiderman!au, friends-to-lovers!au (fluff) 

pairing/s: Eric / Fem reader (ft Stray Kids Felix) 

word count: 5k+

tw: mild violence like fighting yall know the drill hes spiderman 

Felix  12:33am - call me - 12:33am - srsly call me now i gotta show u smth -

You picked up the (incessantly) ringing device, wondering who it was yet already knowing who it was going to be.

Seeing Felix's caller id show up on your phone screen, you sighed, swiping the call to answer it anyway, putting it at a rather ugly angle on your pillow since it was Felix, after all.

"Why are you video calling, did you press the wrong button again?" you murmured, lazily leaning on your pillow as you talked. Felix looked as if he was in some sort of living room, and that framed geodude puzzle hanging on the wall behind him was beginning to look just too familiar.

Almost as if hearing your thought process, the blonde haired boy turned his head, shouting a loud, "Eric! Come here, dude!" Making you shoot up quickly, a hand flying to your head from the throb you got after getting up too fast.

Angling your phone so you looked a little more presentable, your breath hitched when you saw Eric come into your view, with a small towel draped over his head.

Eric raised his eyebrows at Felix in confusion before spotting you on the phone, his mouth dropping open before closing quickly, smiling shyly at you with a wave. 

"Hi," his voice came out soft, "sorry to disturb you so late in the night, you seem like you were about to sleep."

Even though the three of you knew it was the truth, you replied dismissively anyway, "Oh, no it's fine, really. I wasn't asleep yet anyway." You didn't miss the knowing look Felix gave you, making you shrug your shoulders while Eric got comfortable in his seat next to Felix. His sharp eyes rounding when he looked back at the screen, holding the edges of the towel draped over his head with a certain hint of excitement in his expression.

"Are you ready for this? probably not but we're gonna show you anyway, okay, Eric, one, two....three!" Felix practically tore the towel off of Eric's head, revealing a bright blue head of hair, making your eyes widen, Felix giving the phone to Eric when the blue haired boy held his hand out expectantly after seeing your reaction.

"That's.....bright."

"Do you...." Eric's gaze travelled elsewhere (anywhere but at you, really) as his fingers smoothed down the parts of his hair that got ruffled in the process of Felix's dramatic reveal. "Do you uh...you know, like it?" he asked, flicking and pulling at his hair in an attempt to make it more presentable, thought you felt it was fine.

"I do! yeah! i mean, it looks great!" you were quick to reassure him, enjoying the smile that appeared on his face, relieved almost.

"What made you wanna do that suddenly?" Eric was about to reply when Felix cut in quickly, his face appearing on the screen and covering anything else visible.

"For the fun of it, you know?" Felix shrugged, "Me and my friends used to do stuff like this all the time in Australia," you rolled your eyes.

"So you just convinced Eric to bleach and dye his hair for fun?"

Eric's voice sounded behind Felix, "I thought maybe it was time to try something different for a change, or something," Felix nodded vigorously, smiling widely.

"That's cool," you heard a commotion on the other side of the phone, though you kept talking anyway, figuring it was a normal occurrence for them, "it really looks great, by the way-"

"Okay that's enough, Y/N. Time to go to sleep, bye!" Felix hung up the call before you could say goodbye. Sighing, you set your phone back down on the table, staring at the ceiling for a while trying to figure out why you were so affected by Eric just having different hair when your phone rang with a notification alarm.

Picking it up, you saw Eric had sent you a photo, opening it to see a picture that he'd taken of himself with a snorlax plushie, caption being 'we kind of look the same now, right?'

You laughed, replying him quickly to say he looked absolutely the same, though not surprised at the 'goodnight' text you'd received shortly after.

Eric was nice to you, and everyone else, you supposed. 

===

"Hey dude, that's not very nice," Eric called in a voice that sounded genuinely upset at what was unfolding in the alley beneath him. Despite his lack of combat training (unless you counted fake ‘mma’ matches with Felix as training), as well as the fact that the man was probably twice Eric's size, Eric knew that that couldn't matter right now because whoever that could try to mug an old lady, was a dick. (and should be stopped, of course)

Shooting a web to the opposite apartment building, Eric swung down, landing smoothly in front of the mugger and using his webs to trap him against the wall, leaving him about half a minute to get this old lady whatever she needed.

If Eric was expecting any thanks, he should have thought again because this old lady was practically hysterical that some red and blue spider looking thing had just rescued her from being mugged.

"Ma'am please calm down, it’s okay,” Eric pleaded in his 'Spiderman' voice, only successfully doing so when he pushed up his mask enough to reveal his mouth.

"See? i'm a human! i'm a human boy! Nothing to worry about Ma'am,” Eric waved his hands as reassuringly as he could, calling the police to inform them of the mugger before shooting a few more webs on him as a precaution before bringing the old lady out into the town area. “Please be safe....and try not to walk through alleys next time!”

Swinging himself back onto the roof where he'd tossed his backpack previously, Eric checked the time on his phone, 7:20am, almost time for school. If he left now, he could probably still make it back by 7:30. Thank God he didn't listen to Felix when he tried to convince him not to bring his school uniform to his trips.

Eric was practically sprinting into the school, panting and clothes wrinkled from being wadded up in his backpack for so long, trying his best to slip into the class unnoticed to his desk was next to yours.

Twirling your pen as you tried to remain inconspicuous so the teacher wouldn't notice that Eric had jut arrived, he'd made that a little harder when he'd kneed the table in his hurry to sit down, thankfully going unnoticed by the teacher.

"You're early," you smirked, hearing him grunt in reply, chest still heaving from his trip here. (Eric would have figured that being Spiderman meant he wouldn't get winded from stairs so easily).

Tugging the sleeves of his shirt down, hooking a finger at his collar to pull it away from his neck and fanning himself with his other hand, the blue haired boy shrugged with a breathy laugh, "Sure am.” He told you, sticking his tongue out at you before turning his attention back to the teacher.

You scribbled down notes lazily, trying not to get distracted by the way Eric looked so different with this new hair, even if half of it was hidden under a baseball cap. Getting bored after a while, you shifted your attention to the screen, feeling yourself slowly start to let your vision blur, almost giving into sleep when you felt someone nudge your elbow, turning to see Eric was trying to pass you a small yellow post-it note.

Taking the note and pasting it onto your notebook, it read: -which one are you gonna sign up for?-

Turning your head to face Eric, you nudged him, seeing him jump slightly in his seat before a small huff of laughter left his lips. “Hmm?” his eyebrows raised, pen halting its movements against his paper.

“Sign up for what?”

There was a moment of silence where Eric looked as though you’d just told him his dog died before he leaned his head forward abruptly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and mouth gaping slightly, “Sign up for what?” he asked you.

Rolling your eyes yet not being able to help the smile from your face, you shoved the - now crumpled - note into his hand. “This! Weren’t you the one that asked me?” you whisper-shouted, a hand moving to grip at your hair in mock frustration.

Eric’s expression softened, mouth forming an ‘o’ shape in realization, “Oh, right. Yeah, which internship position are you gonna sign up for?” he pointed to the board at the front of the class, where the teacher had written down various internship positions at different companies.

“What’s this for?” you glanced at Eric’s notebook to see if he’d written anything useful about it, seeing his small neat handwriting of

‘different day, different company take different day -’

Eric was quick to shield his notebook from you, choosing to distract you by pointing his pen to the direction of the board while he tried to make himself look less flustered at the fact that you could have just seen how he’d written that he wanted to take a different attachment day from you so it would be easier to have lunch with you.

“You see, we’re supposed to choose one,” he explained, closing his notebook and shoving it into his bag while you were looking at the board. “I think i’m gonna choose Monday’s,” he started slowly, “You know, since i like that, and you don’t...”

Your gaze went to the Monday slot on the board, seeing that it was something to do with sports and you made a face of disgust, shaking your head.

“You’re right, i don’t like that. I was thinking of maybe Wednesday?” you pointed at the area on the board to direct his attention there, seeing him nod, a soft smile threatening to appear.

“Great then, we’ll still have lunch breaks to spend together!”

“You think Felix will join us?” you bypassed his implication, making him press his lips together in a tight line.

“Eh, up to him, he’s welcome to whenever he wants,” Eric shrugged, not averse to the idea but not completely for it either. Felix was his best friend but...sometimes he was a little too obvious with the whole spider thing.

"Nice," you smiled to yourself, scribbling down quickly onto your notebook about the details of your internship, the thought of work reminding you of Eric's part-time job.

"Right, are you working today?"

Eric had almost forgotten that he had told you about his 'part-time job', if you counted roaming around the streets of your neighbourhood looking for crime to stop dressed in a body suit as a part-time job.

"I work everyday, the city never sleeps Y/N," he sighed dramatically, shaking his head at his textbook wistfully.

"What are you even talking about you work at a pet shop, i'm pretty sure that part of the city does sleep." Eric waved you off dismissively, not being able to help the tiny giggle that slipped from his mouth, his hands coming up to his hair in embarrassment but only coming in contact with the material of his cap, forgetting he was even wearing it.

"Also, are you forgetting something?"

Eric furrowed his eyebrows, tapping his pen on his notebook, trying to figure out what exactly it was he was forgetting. Was it your birthday? no, it can't be, Eric remembered there was still months to go before that. Maybe it's movie night again? Eric frowned, no, we had that yesterday.

"I give up," the blue-haired boy finally slumped his shoulders, dropping his pen onto the table and holding his hands out to you in a begging gesture. "What was it that i forgot this time?" he pouted, trying his best to ease his way out of trouble if you were angry at him.

Pushing the flyaway strands of your hair away from your face haphazardly as you turned to him, you mustered a look of disgust, "You were supposed to help me write my article about Spiderman for the newspaper club!" you frowned, hands finding their way to your hips. A look of realization flashed over Eric's features, making you sigh.

"I knew you'd forget, you're always busy with baseball or your job or playing games with Felix, it's a wonder you even agreed to help me with that paper in the first place." you sighed.

"Look, i'm really sorry it just slipped my mind...let me make it up to you?" he pleaded, earning a dirty look from you.

"Lunch is on you," you decided.

Eric's expression relaxed visibly, glad that that was what you'd decided on as a compensation, nodding his head at you with a smile, "Deal."

===

"And you're sure you don't need me to walk you back?" Felix asked, though you knew both him and his friend Changbin were hoping you would say no so they could head over to the computer cafe to play games.

You shot them a look, eyes narrowing at them as you gripped your laptop tighter in your arm, shooting Felix a tight-lipped smile.

"It's fine, if anything i'll just call Eric," Felix opened and closed his mouth quickly as if stopping himself from saying something, deciding on nodding firmly at you, waving goodbye to let you leave. Eric hadn't told you where the pet-shop was but you figured it didn't matter anyway since you never visited him there, but little did you know tonight you wouldn't have to.

"Hey! Stop!" You heard the clanging of bins and the heavy thudding of running footsteps, looking around to find the source of the sound when you saw someone running past you, knocking into you slightly but the impact causing them to lose their balance and stumble onto the floor. You figured he wasn't that innocent with the cds that had spilled out from his jacket when he fell. So you did what you figured anyone would've done in this situation, you stepped on his chest.

You heard a gust of wind before a light thud in front of where you and the man were, your breath getting caught in your throat when you realized that Spiderman was in front of you.

"I told you not to run, you can get all these cds at a sale!" the masked boy had waved his hands exasperatedly, squatting down and looking up at you when he'd seen that the man - or boy, he looked like he couldn't be much older than you -was still being held down by your leg. In your shock you had pressed your leg harder onto the boy, making him let out a pained groan which fell on your deaf ears.

"Uh..." Spiderman cleared his throat, and your eyes widened expectantly, not realizing your foot was still on the boy's chest until Spiderman gestured a covered finger towards it.

"Oh! sorry, i just you know, thought it would help keep him down.." you blurted, removing your leg quickly and taking a step back from the boy. Spiderman cleared his throat, mustering a deeper, more authoritative voice, or his 'Spiderman voice' as Felix liked to call it.

"Thanks for helping me stop this guy, i really owe you one." Spiderman told you, making you flush, shaking your head at him out of courtesy.

"No problem....Spiderman?" Said boy let out a small giggle, sounding oddly familiar to you but you were too busy observing him clear away the cds and let the boy go to say anything.

"Don't do it again or i'm telling your mom!" you frowned in confusion as you watched the boy scramble off the floor and run off.

"His mom?"

"His mom's the owner of the bakery across the street from the cd shop, she'd kill him if she knew he was doing this." Spiderman stood up, dusting the knees of his suit before turning to you, and you were practically itching to remove his mask.

"So.....kind citizen, how may i repay you?" he said, sounding an awful lot like he was in a period drama, making you laugh, though you couldn't say you had no idea what you wanted him to do either.

He spent a solid minute shifting his weight from leg to leg while waiting for your answer. "What's your name?"

"E-" Spiderman stopped himself, lengthening the vowel so he sounded like he meant to scold you instead. "Foul play, pretty citizen," Eric mentally slapped himself for being so gullible, resisting the urge to scream when you tilted your head at him, not sure why the sudden confidence was taking over you in front of the masked superhero.

"Pretty?" Spiderman was thankful for the mask hiding his face because he was sure he'd never felt so hot underneath the mask.

"Not a valid question, next," he blurted quickly, making you laugh.

"It's okay, Spiderman. You probably don’t have time to answer my questions anyway,” this struck a cord with Eric, feeling as though you were talking to him instead of just talking to Spiderman, rushing to your side and waving his hands in dismissal, “No, noo! I do have time! I’m on duty right now, i’m making sure you get home safely!” he assured you, a skeptical expression making its way onto your face.

“On duty, huh?” you repeated, “Say, Spiderman, you couldn’t possibly explain to me why you became Spiderman in the first place, could you?” you asked, seeing his hand go up to his head, unconsciously starting to walk together with you in the direction back to your place.

“You know, i didn’t know exactly, either. I just thought...it’d be nice to try to make a difference in this town, even if it was just a small difference.”

“I think you’re pretty cool,” you spoke, your gaze still directed forward, looking at the glow of the buildings cast from streetlamps, “What you do, i mean,” you corrected.

“You do?” He replied a little too quickly, clearing his throat before shrugging, “I mean, yeah, it’s just...what it is.”

“You don’t mind, right?” you asked, “Me asking you all these questions. I mean, i heard from my friend Eric that you’re a pretty low-key guy so i was kind of shocked you were actually going along with my questions,” you adjusted your grip on the things you were carrying, shoulders starting to feel sore from carrying them for so long.

“Here, lemme get that for you.” Spiderman reached his hand over to try to take your things, but you were quick to refuse, “There’s really no need for that, i’m fine-“

“I’m only helping a kind citizen after a long day,” he shrugged, and when he put it that way, oh, how tempting it was. So you did let him carry your things, besides, no one would know. Especially not Eric, oh Eric would tease you for days if he found out Spiderman carried your laptop and books home for you.

“Are you embarrassed?” Spiderman asked you, and because of how familiar he felt, his Spiderman voice was gone, and strangely, you didn’t even notice. You shook your head vigorously, letting your hair cover your face before finally squeaking out a, “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

You heard Spiderman let out a small huff of laughter, “That’s cute.”

Your head snapped around quickly so you could glare at him, turning onto the street of your house, “Is it part of your job description to flirt with kind citizens?”

He shrugged, and Eric wasn’t sure where he’d gained this new-found confidence around you but he was strangely thankful for it, “Maybe only the ‘you’ kind of kind citizens?” he laughed, realizing you had reached your house already.

“My friend Eric’s gonna be stoked if i tell him i met you.” you smiled, taking your things back from Spiderman, seeing him step back and nod at you. “Sure is,” he told you.

You couldn’t help but find what he said similar to what Eric usually says to you, not being able to help yourself with your next statement.

“You know...you kind of remind me of him,” you adjusted your bag strap on your shoulders, scrutinizing his mask before shaking your head, “Nevermind, pretend i never said anything. Goodnight, Spiderman,” you smiled, waving at him.

Whipping your phone out, you went to yours and Eric’s chat 

10:43pm -you would not BELIEVE who i just saw-

===

Eric wasn't sure what kind of stupid had posessed him to say he'd enjoy hearing about your encounter with Spiderman, but he'd decided after the 3rd time of hearing the same story repeated to different people that he really hated it. I mean, it wasn't as if Eric wasn't Spiderman, it was just hearing you say over and over again that Spiderman was so 'cute!' and 'kind!' and 'had a great butt!' was just starting to get on Eric's nerves, knowing you would never describe him that way.

You'd found Eric's reaction to your Spiderman story rather unusual, since you was usually so used to Eric being excited to tell you about Spiderman and what he 'researched' about him. But you figured maybe he was just tired of hearing the same story. Not that you cared but still.

You were currently seated at the bistro that you, Felix and Eric frequented, spread out across the cushions of your usual booth, your legs spread out in front of you while Felix chose to squeeze with Eric.

Felix's phone had buzzed, and the boy's eyes lit up upon reading the message. "You guys going for the halloween party? One of my friends just sent me the details."

"Halloween party? Like the one we went to last year?" you leaned forward in an attempt to read from Felix's phone.

"The one i went dressed as a princess for?" Eric's eyes widened and you laughed at the memory.

"Yep," Felix nodded, "Its being thrown by the same person, so you guys are invited too."

"Oh my god, we should coordinate our outfits this year too!" Felix cheered, earning a mock look of disgust from you, but nodding nonetheless.

"Wait, maybe not. Cause i was thinking about going as Spiderman," Felix continued.

You let out a satisfied sound at Felix's mention of Spiderman. "I'm telling you, Felix, there's something about Spiderman that's just so.....so-it gets me, you know what i mean?" you spoke, gaze directed at the tv screen in the bistro.

Felix exchanged a knowing look with Eric, whose eyes widened and slurped his drink hurriedly. You were waiting for Felix reply when Eric had handed you his powerbank, asking if you could help him put it in his bag, only realizing a little too late that he'd forgotten to specify which pocket of his bag. And it wasn't as if he could risk having you see his crumpled up Spiderman suit in there.

Bending down and unzipping the back pocket of his bag, you shuffled around for his pouch before catching a flash of red and blue latex at the bottom of the bag, your hand withdrawing from the material when you realized the implications of it, just as you heard Eric add in a, "Front pocket, please."

As if the timing couldn't be any better, you heard Felix chime in with what he thought about Spiderman.

"I mean, when you think about it, i'd say he's pretty similar with Er- ouch!" Felix glared at Eric, mouthing for him to trust him before you sat up, furrowing your eyebrows at Felix, "Nothing, just hit the table adjusting my legs," he told you casually.

"Anyway as i was saying, i think he's pretty similar to Eric," you frowned, the new knowledge of what was in Eric's bag making you think of the incident happening with Eric in Spiderman's place, the idea threatening to make your face heat up.

"Oh my God, no no, don't make it weird, shut up, Felix," you dismissed the thought quickly, not wanting Eric to feel uncomfortable as well, since after all, you did say Spiderman had a cute butt.

Eric looked at you with a confused expression, before grinning quickly and laughing along with you. "Yeah....shut up, Felix," Eric looked down into his smoothie, hoping the shadow would hide his blush.

"You guys suck, i'm speaking some truth here, you know?" Felix huffed, sinking further into his seat, Eric simply choosing to shrug as a reply.

"Whatever, Felix. Just text me the details of the party, i'm gonna head back to my office now. Lunch break's almost over," you told them, Eric nodding in reply, while Felix gave you a wave, shooing you away.

Felix turned to his friend once you'd left, nudging the boy on the shoulder. Eric slumped onto the cushion of the booth, groaning loudly, attracting attention from some of the diners.

"I'm screwed. She's gonna fall for Spiderman and then they're gonna get married and then she's gonna see me as her stupid friend for the rest of her life," Eric whined, making Felix frown in confusion, an amused lilt to his tone when he replied.

"Bro, i think you're forgetting a really important detail..." Eric's head whipped around so he could glare at Felix for interrupting his crisis.

"What now, Felix?"

"You are Spiderman, dude!" Eric's mouth formed an 'o' shape in realization, eyebrows raising as he straightened up in his seat, taking a long sip from his smoothie.

"Right, forgot." Eric stared pensively at Felix, "But how am i supposed to reveal that to her? What kind of elaborate plan can i possibly make?" Eric pouted, earning a grin from Felix.

Shrugging, the blonde haired boy spoke, twirling the un-used straw between his fingers, "Who knows, maybe it'll be easier than you think."

Which was worse, to have shown up at the halloween party with Felix dressed as Spiderman, or the fact that Eric was nowhere to be seen, you couldn't decide. You'd been calling Eric multiple times that night, but a sudden bank robbery had taken Eric from you that night.

"Will you at least help me bring my costume?" he had blurted hurriedly to Felix, who was already dressed in his Spiderman costume. Nodding to appease Eric, Felix waved his hands in dismissal.

"Dude, really, don't worry about it, i got you covered. Just go do what you have to do," Eric had nodded, already rushing to leave.

"And remember to turn off your phone!"

"Already did!" Eric called back.

He didn't.

Now Eric was fighting a robber with Ariana Grande's voice singing ‘One Last Time’ blasting out of his pocket.

Holding the robber off with a kick, the burly man stumbling back slightly, Eric saw the caller id as your name.

Picking up the phone quickly, trying to divert the robber's attention by jumping from place to place to tire him out. "Eric, where are you? You said you'd be here an hour ago!" you sounded more than disappointed, making Eric let out a small groan.

"I'm sorry! Really, just-something came up, and i needed to," he let out a small grunt when he'd landed on the floor a little ungracefully, "settle it. I swear, i'll be there soon."

"The party's getting boring without you, if you're not there in 30 minutes i'm leaving!" you announced, hanging up quickly. Eric whined loudly, dodging a punch from the robber as he put his phone back.

"Look man, I really don't have time for this right now," Eric threw a few webs around the man to stop him from moving, removing the mask from the man's face. "Remember to smile for your mug shot!" he laughed, dialing the police before leaving quickly, shooting webs and swinging himself from apartment building to apartment building, desperately trying to get to the party before you left.

Calling Felix was no use, the boy was already lost in the party, probably even forgetting he had a phone with how much fun he was having. It was only when Eric saw Felix over at the ping pong table did he manage to get his attention.

The blonde boy turned around, "Oh what, same costume? Not cool, man," Felix groaned, earning an eyeroll from Eric that he couldn't see anyway. "Felix, its me," Eric told him.

Felix stared blankly at the suit-clad boy before realization struck him, "Oh!" he shouted, immediately taking Eric aside into the nearest room he could find, ripping off Eric's mask and letting out a loud gasp when he saw the bruise on Eric's jaw.

"That looks rough, what happened?"

"No time for that right now, Felix, where's Y/N?" Eric made as if to go find you but was stopped by Felix's arms on his shoulders. "Woah, man, no way i'm letting you go around with this bruise on your face."

"It's fine, I'll just wear my mask."

Felix gave him an uncertain look, looking fairly hesitant but shaking his head disapprovingly, "Last i checked she was in the kitchen? But i'd suggest you avoid the crowd now, they're gonna lose their shit when they realize Spiderman is here."

Eric groaned, knowing Felix was right, which was why Felix didn't have a mask on. "Okay, i'll just go wait on the rooftop. Just give me a text when you find her."

Eric swung himself onto the roof with ease after leaving the building briefly. Putting on his mask, he lay down on the floor of the roof, starting to feel tired from fighting.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he saw that you'd sent him more texts asking where he was.

In his fatigued haze, he didn't bother thinking when he'd replied you,

9:50pm -im at the rooftop-

Putting his phone aside, Eric looked at the sky through the muffled view he got through his mask, too tired to process the sound of the rooftop doors opening until he heard your voice.

"Felix? What the hell are you doing here? Eric told me i could find him here and when i get here he's not here again," you stomped your foot weakly, sitting down next to what you assumed was Felix's lying form.

"Stupid Eric," you huffed, "You even told me he was definitely gonna be here! All i wanted was a nice night with stupid cute Eric and have a good time but it's just not going how i wanted it to go."

"How did you want it to go then?" Eric finally spoke, making your breath get caught in your throat when you realized the person next to you really wasn't Felix.

"Er-" you stopped yourself, not sure if you wanted to let him know you knew just yet. Though at this point, Eric was too tired to bother about that.

"Spiderman?" Eric huffed at the name.

"That's me, good ol' friendly neighbourhood Spiderman," he shrugged, sitting up and reaching a hand to fiddle with the material covering his calf.

"I'm sure whoever this Eric person is, he probably didn't mean to leave you here without a reason, you know?"

You stared at him in disbelief, narrowing your eyes at him. "Uh-huh," you crossed your arms over your chest, "Just kinda sucks when you have the boy you like right in front of you still lying to your face," you shrugged.

"What?" Eric tilted his head in confusion, caught off guard when you reached a hand over to yank his mask off of his head.

"That's better," you smiled, enjoying the shocked look on Eric's face, his now slightly faded blue hair sticking up in various places because of the mask.

"How are you not shocked?" Eric spoke, hands waving around frantically, expecting a much more extreme reaction from you than what he had gotten.

"To be honest with you, I knew since that day at the bistro when i was putting your stuff back into your bag. Saw your suit," you explained, seeing him lie back down, his hands covering his face.

"God, i'm really stupid, aren't i?" Eric removed his hands, revealing his giddy smile to you. "To save your last bit of pride, i'm not answering that," you smiled back.

"Correct me if i'm wrong," Eric began, his gaze on the mask you fiddled with in your hands. "You know, sometimes it's hard to hear under the mask, but....did i hear you refer to me as the boy you like?"

"Nope," you said, face completely serious as you watched Eric's expression fall, "Oh,"

"Eric, i'm kidding. I totally did." Eric's hand moved to cover the lower half of his face, blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Good, cause you're the girl i like too," he told you casually. Making your mouth gape open in shock.

"Is it just me or does your confidence just become crazy whenever you put on this suit?" you told him with a laugh.

"Maybe," he shrugged, "you know, Spiderman's a real lady killer." You laughed, shaking your head at him. "Oh, i'm sure."

You were sat in-between the open space of his legs, with himself still lying on the ground, "He's got all sorts of tricks, it'd be hard to resist him at all, not my words, his," you scoffed. Eric was having fun with this, finally feeling fully comfortable and at ease after the unnecessary worrying about what you would think.

"Care to demonstrate said tricks?" Eric placed a hand on his chin thoughtfully, pretending to consider your challenge, his ‘Spiderman' confidence taking over him as he shot a web to the wall facing him, "gladly," he told you. Using the wall as leverage, he lifted himself to sitting position and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

Pulling away and standing up quickly as if nothing had happened, he shot you a smile as he held his hand out to help you up.

"Real lady killer, isn't he?"

#eric #eric sohn #eric son #eric the boyz #the boyz #eric scenarios #eric fluff #the boyz scenarios #eric au #eric sohn au #the boyz au #spiderman!au #the boyz fanfic #lee felix #stray kids felix #lee felix scenarios #happy birthday eric :( #tbz #tbz eric #tbz scenarios #tbz au #tbz fluff #the boyz eric

[reddieorrnot]

I would love to see 22 and 29 for reddie I think that'd be hilarious if your could

shorter than the others but hopefully still as good! hope you like it :)

Eddie was ready to go bat shit crazy. 

It was a Friday afternoon, and he was sitting in a hot, humid, Eleventh-grade History classroom. The whole day had gone by far too slow with not enough excitement. Of course, it’s school. It’s not supposed to be fun or enticing on a basis further than educational, but still. Eddie had been ready to fall asleep all day, and all he wanted was for the day to end, and for all his friends to had over to the quarry. Then they planned on going over to Mike’s and just hanging out. Eddie had stuck out the day until now, and he planned on staying awake until the bell rang. Even though the next period of History was going to make him want to shoot his brains out. 

Don’t get him wrong, Eddie loved this class and every topic that came with it. It was just so horrifically boring today. The lecture was dragging on forever, and at this point, Eddie didn’t really care who saw how he was nearly drifting off. Unsurprisingly, one person had indeed taken notice. That’s what Eddie realized as a note landed onto his desk. It was small, folded in half. Eddie turned to look in the first place he thought of, Richie Tozier. 

And there the boy was, a foolish grin plastered on his face staring right back at Eddie. They didn’t sit too far apart, Eddie was a seat in front and over from his boyfriend. Note passing was a daily thing between them usually when Richie got so restless that he needed to talk to someone or he’d just blurt out everything that came to mind. After getting in trouble countless amounts of times, Eddie had finally told Richie to just pass him a note whenever he felt like talking. 

Remembering this, Eddie turned back around and quietly unfolded the small piece of paper. 

‘Am I the only one melting in this joint? Feels like it’s a hundred degrees!’ 

Eddie wanted to giggle, but the classroom was too quiet for that. So instead, the note produced a smile while he flipped the piece of paper over and started to write a reply. 

‘It isn’t just you, I feel like I’m dying over here’ 

He folded the note over the other way, and checked to see if Mr. Samson was looking. After finding a moment where their teacher was turned away, Eddie leaned back and placed his note on Richie’s desk. The other boy wasted no time grabbing the note and ripping out another piece of paper from his notebook to write on. 

Just like that, Eddie felt more awake. Richie tend to have that effect on him, after all. 

Soon, Richie’s new note landed on Eddie’s desk. It was larger than the last one, perhaps intended for more uses. 

‘Same Eds, not only from heat but boredom

The nickname made Eddie’s heart flutter, glad Richie couldn’t see the blush that appeared. He pressed his blue pen into the paper, writing out his reply.

‘Then do something Rich’ 

When Eddie got the note back with Richie’s response, he immediately regretted telling Richie to do something about being bored. He opened up the note, and read what Richie had written. 

‘How much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?’ 

Eddie gasped at the note, turning around instantly. Richie was leaning back in his chair, curls nearly touching the desk of the student behind him. He had a huge playful smirk, visibly being serious about his idea. 

Eddie scolded his boyfriend, mouthing a very clear, “No.” 

Richie pouted, ripping out another piece of paper. He scribbled something on it, then folded it up. Eddie felt a small sting of jealousy when Richie didn’t pass it to him, but instead to his left. Eddie watched as the note got passed to Beverly Marsh, who was a few aisles down from Eddie’s spot. Eddie saw Beverly open the note, grin, and turn around to Richie. 

She threw up both her hands, showing ten fingers, then mouthing, “Ten dollars.” 

Eddie stared in horror as the amount was said, Richie’s face lighting up. He probably would’ve done it for five cents, knowing him. Not missing a beat, Eddie spun around and abandoned his previous silence.

“Are you insane?” Eddie whispered, as low as he possibly could. The teacher wasn’t a hardass, but wouldn’t be happy with side conversations. 

“No, baby, but I am bored.” Richie shrugged, starting to sit up.

“We all are, Rich!” Eddie hissed, “You don’t see me flippin’ desks, do you?” 

“Because you’re a behaved little cutie, duh.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, understanding that there wasn’t any way he was convincing Richie otherwise. Especially with money on the line, Richie didn’t have to think twice about getting the reward for his stupid actions. Eddie, of course, wouldn’t blame Richie. He nearly never did, he was too in love. 

Eddie looked over at Beverly, who had been watching the whole thing, and mouthed to her: “This is your fault.”

She just chuckled. 

Eddie huffed, accepting what was going to happen. He just looked at Richie, awaiting the scene to unfold. 

Richie waited until the teacher was writing on the board, to quietly stand up out of his seat. He stood there for a second, possibly thinking about what he was about to do. Then looked over at Beverly, who was watching intently. When he had gotten up, Richie had caught the eye of nearly everyone else in the room as well. He grinned at the given audience, then bent down. Richie placed both his hands on the right legs of his table. It was one of those tables that were attached to the chair, the ones that high schools always had. So of course, Richie would be flipping the whole thing. 

He grasped the metal in his clutch, then flipped the whole thing. 

Had the class not erupted in laughter, and the table not made a clanging sound as it fell to the ground, Mr. Samson possibly wouldn’t have noticed what Richie did. Too bad that wasn’t the case though. 

Mr. Samson had whipped around, seeing Richie standing next to an upside-down desk, and students laughing all around him. It was how innocent Richie looked that made Eddie join in on the laughter. 

“Richard Tozier, what the hell were you thinking?” 

Richie gave the teacher an honest shrug, “To be fair, I wasn’t thinking. Just wanted some cash.”

“Well, I hope whatever cash that is was worth detention! Report to the principal's office now, and fix your desk!” 

“Aye, aye, captain!” Of course, Richie had to salute the teacher before flipping the desk back into place. Eddie couldn’t believe Richie, but hey, he knew he was full of surprises. Richie then picked up his backpack, started to walk down the aisle, and stopped at Eddie. He leaned down and gave Eddie a quick peck on the cheek, leaving the smaller boy flustered. “See you at Mike’s, babe.” He whispered before continuing to the front of the class and then out the door. 

Mr. Samson let out a deep sigh, and then looked at Eddie. “Learn to control him, Kaspbrak.” 

If Eddie hadn’t been embarrassed before, he definitely was now. Sinking into his seat, he didn’t miss the smirk Beverly shot him.

***

“Wait, so what happened with Richie again?” Ben asked as the group of friends walked over to Mike’s. They had spent a little bit of time at the quarry but were all more excited to head over to the Hanlon home. Eddie, who had been worrying that Richie would get there before them, was glad to finally be leaving the swimming session. When the others had asked why Richie wasn’t with them, Eddie simply stated he had gotten detention. Beverly looked like she wanted to tell the story, but they both knew that Richie was going to arrive wanting to tell everyone himself, so there was no need to. 

“He’s gonna let you all know detail by detail when he shows up, don’t worry,” Beverly answered, throwing her head back in laughter. Eddie didn’t miss the way Ben’s eyes shined as he watched the redhead grin. He wished his boyfriend were here for him to look at like that, but no, he had to flip a fucking table during their History class. Eddie grumbled to himself the whole walk to Mike’s house, the other losers talking amongst themselves, not wanting to bother Eddie. 

When they finally arrived, Beverly offered everyone a cigarette, even though she knew they’d decline. 

“Oh Bev, I’d kill for a smoke, and also, my ten bucks!”

Richie stood in the front doorway, looking like an utter fool with his glasses crooked and stupid smile. Even though Eddie had been convinced he was annoyed at Richie, he wanted to melt into his arms right there and then. Beverly rolled her eyes and fished in her bag, pulling out a ten-dollar bill. She walked over to Richie and placed it in his hand, along with a cigarette. Before going to smoke, Richie told all the losers his story, making everything more dramatic than it actually had been. Eddie didn’t mind though, he liked the way Richie’s face lit up when he went into storytelling mode, the way he used wild hand gestures and tone of voice changed. 

“You’re a whole different breed of dumbass, Richie,” Stan spoke when the story was over. 

Mike simply chuckled and shook his head. “I can’t believe you just flipped a desk… right in the middle of class!”

“I’ll do anything for that sweet cash, Mikey,” Richie nudged Mike with his elbow, making Bill and Ben laugh.

“Alright guys, let’s see what’s on TV,” Beverley suggested, forgetting about her earlier desire to smoke and picking up the remote. Everyone piled into the living room as the girl flipped through the channels. Richie got up at some point, heading to the kitchen to get a cup of water, he told them. Eddie waited a couple of seconds, then got up to follow him.

Eddie loved Mike’s home. It felt so warm and kind, like he was always welcome. He liked Richie’s house the best, but Mike’s was always a close second. He turned the corner into the kitchen, seeing Richie struggle to grab two juices from the fridge while holding a plastic cup. Eddie smiled at the sight, moving quickly over to help out his clumsy boyfriend. He took one of the drinks from Richie’s grasp and closed the fridge. Eddie then placed it on the counter and leaned back against the wall. 

“Are you planning on mixing those two?” 

“Eds, you know me so well,” Richie planted a kiss on Eddie’s forehead, then returned to his drink. Eddie smiled, then remembered what he had come into the kitchen to do. 

“You know, that thing you did today was really dumb…” He frowned, and Richie noticed this. 

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” 

“No, no. I’m just a little sad that, uh…” 

Richie tilted his head to the side, looking like a confused puppy. Eddie felt his heart burst at the image, wanting nothing more than to be cuddling Richie. 

“Why are you sad?” Richie set down the carton of juice and moved over closer to Eddie, taking his hand and holding it. Eddie’s heart quickened at the contact. He was convinced that no matter how long he dated Richie, he would always find a way to make Eddie feel like a hopelessly in love teenager. 

“I’m a little sad you were in detention, and not at the quarry with me.”

Where his pout once was, Richie now had a smile. He gave Eddie’s hand a light squeeze, “Did someone miss me?”  

Without hesitation, Eddie answered, “You know I always do.”

Hearing that made Richie close the distance between the two with a kiss. A familiar sense of security flowed throughout both of the boys, as Eddie let go of Richie’s hand and moved both of them to his cheeks. 

Once their lips parted, Richie kept his face close, just looking into Eddie’s eyes. 

“I love you,” Eddie whispered, his mouth so close to Richie’s that it was like the words were only theirs to hear, and no one else in the world. “Even if you do flip desks during class and get detention.”

“I love you too,” Richie breathlessly whispered back with a chuckle, then leaning in for another kiss. 

#reddie #reddie fic #richie tozier #richie x eddie #eddie kaspbrak #eddie x richie #reddie prompt #i love these two

[jjonesin4]

Songfic Writing Challenge

Day 2: A song you like with a number in the title

1, 2, 3, 4 Plain White T’s

It is going on day 4 of what Jughead has been calling “Lunch: Unplugged,” where Archie serenades his friends between large gulps of a thick protein shake. With the abrupt departure of Ms. Grundy Archie is left without a music tutor (or a girlfriend). Between football practice, working for his dad’s construction company, and school work he has found that the only time to practice is during lunch. This has the added benefit of playing in front of people that might help him with his stage fright before his upcoming open mic night audition at the new coffee shop, Riverdale Roasters.

Eating is as close to a religious experience as Jughead gets. Since he started investigating with Betty a few months ago he has been sitting with her, Archie, Veronica, and Kevin at the picnic table under the oak tree that provides just enough shade to keep the sun from melting anything creamy and blocks the wind just enough so there is a comfortable breeze without making empty chip bags take flight. As if that wasn’t enough, Betty even packs extra snacks for him! He gets to eat AND sit next to the girl of his dreams for a whole 47 minutes every weekday. Jughead has never been so happy...that was until 4 days ago when Archie and his stupid gutair stole Betty’s everyone’s attention for the entire lunch period.

Lunch is right after his shared English class with Betty. He is sitting behind her looking at the clock and seriously considering eating in the Blue and Gold office, but he is not willing to give up one second of his time with Betty. Maybe he can convince her to join him. It could be romantic. Just the two of them and their murder board. He loves the look on Betty’s face as she stares at their board, mentally untangling the knot of clues before her. She furrows her brow that scrunches up her nose just a little bit and her eyes are laser focused...

Jughead is snapped out of his daydream when Betty moves to put her notebook and pen in her pink backpack. She looks at him with those pretty green eyes and he has to fight the urge to crush her into a post-class embrace right in the middle of the emptying classroom. He just loves how she fits in his arms all warm and soft and his. Before he can act on his need to scoop her up into a bear hug, Betty starts walking towards the picnic table expecting Jug to follow.

Jughead has to speed up to catch up to her. He gives her perfectly curled ponytail a gentle tug to get her attention.

“How about a working lunch at the Blue and Gold?”

“Why, did you get a new lead??” Betty asks excitedly.

Feeling guilty for getting her hopes up Jughead huffs out a dramatic breath and decides he should just tell her the truth.

“No, but Betts, I cannot be held responsible for my actions if I have to listen to one more strum of that acoustic instrument of the devil.”

“Come on, Jug, it’s not that bad. Plus, as his friends, he needs our support. You know the whole Grundy thing has been hard on him.” Her eyes get bigger somehow when she gets sincere.

“Don’t give me the eyes. You know it’s impossible for me to resist. I’m really regretting watching Shrek 2 with you in first grade. Puss in Boots was a terrible influence!”

Betty giggles softly and continues on the path to the picnic table with a less than thrilled Jughead on her heels.

Jughead tries to stifle a groan when Archie pulls out his guitar at the lunch table again. Betty must sense his impending eye roll because she bumps his shoulder and gives him a conspiratorial look with a warm smile that is reserved for only him. Jughead immediately melts into his girl and gives into the smirk he can’t keep off his broody face whenever Betty Cooper looks at him.

Archie hits on the top of his guitar and counts down

One, two

One, two, three, four.

He starts to play the upbeat opening of a Plain White T’s song that Jughead thinks sounds almost hopeful, if a few bars of strumming can elicit such an emotion.

Give me more lovin' than I've ever had.

Make it all better when I'm feelin' sad.

Tell me that I'm special even when I know I'm not.

Make me feel good when I hurt so bad.

Barely gettin' mad,

I'm so glad I found you.

I love being around you.

This is such a nice reprieve from Archie’s original sad boy breakup songs. Veronica, Betty, and Kevin all have their eyes glued to Archie brimming with pride for their friend. This is the best he’s ever sounded and their love for him is pouring out as he plays the soft melody.

You make it easy,

It's easy as one, two, one, two, three, four.

There's only one thing, two do, three words four you.

I love you.

There's only one way, two say, those three words

And that's what I'll do.

I love you.

While his friends are all focused on Archie the lyrics wash over Jughead as he stares mesmerized by the way the sunlight hits Betty’s profile. She is so beautiful. How can he look away? Her skin is basically glowing and there are little strands of her golden hair illuminated in the light that Jughead wants to twirl between his long fingers. But Betty is so much more than her physical beauty. She makes Jughead feel whole. In that moment Jughead decides that he has to tell her tonight. He has to tell her those three words.

I love you.

#songfic writing challenge 2019 #bughead #riverdale #bughead fanfiction #jughead jones #betty cooper #archie andrews #jughead is a soft boi for betty #plain white t's #1 2 3 4 #I know this is a day late #but I will make it up

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Plan B

Part of the Tsuredure Seventeen series

Summary:

Jihoon is the new kid in school. It’s your Junior year and he’s quiet, keeps to himself, and has no friends. You rationalize that you can either let him eat lunch alone or you can use your charmingly persistent personality to make him open up to you.

Yep, the perfect plan.

About 7k words. High School AU. Jihoon is on the basketball team.

-

You walked into your second class of the day, a whole five minutes before you needed to be there. You walked to the front of the classroom, right in front of the teachers' desk where you always sat and set your bag on the floor.

Just as you did every day, you pulled out your notebook, a pen, and the nights' homework.

You greeted everyone as they came into the room, until your closest friends came into the room, and then you three engaged in a close conversation until the class started.

There were six rows of desk, spreading across the room vertical to the front whiteboard. In the center of the room, your teacher had a projector set up, with the days morning work being shined on the board.

You only had about twelve kids in your class. That was one of the reasons that it was so great. It was small.

Everyone sat towards the front of the classroom and the only people on the very edge of the room were your closest friends. Everyone else was centralized and close.

If something were to change in the classroom you would notice. If someone new were to appear you would see them. You had been going to this school for years. You knew everybody that took the same classes you did.

There wasn’t anything that you could’ve missed. No I that you hadn’t dotted, no T that should’ve been left uncrossed.

“Oh my god, look at Jihoon,” your friend Chanhee gushed. You glanced over your shoulder at the person at the desk closest to you and sucked in a sharp gasp of air in surprise.

He was wearing a basketball jersey (one that was notably too big on him), thin glasses perched on his nose. He had a serious expression spread over his face. Eyes wide and focused on the work before him. His glasses were thin, it made you wonder if they were even real. You didn’t dwell on it.

You looked over at Chanhee, your eyebrows raised suggestively.

“When did he get to be so cute?” You mouthed. You and Chanhee giggled to one another, but you quickly returned to the work before you.

While Chanhee really liked talking in class, you preferred actually doing your work. Interacting with the teacher whenever any question was asked, and always keeping on top of everything. You weren’t a stellar student. Sure, you were always a fan favorite, but you weren’t the best you could be.

In this class, however, you truly were great. You took part in every extra credit opportunity and worked hard to make sure all of your assignments were the best that they could be.

You were also like that in one other class this year. Coincidentally, the two classes you worked the hardest in was your Advanced Placement classes that counted for college credit if you did good enough in them and it was just because your teachers were so great.

“Mr. Kneisel spent almost our whole class ranting about the election of 1840, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so fascinated by history before,” you stated with a laugh. Your friend laughed along with you, rolling his eyes just slightly.

“I know what you mean. I actually get excited for his courses,” he stated pleasantly. The two of you walked into the school cafeteria and looked around.

You weren’t all that close to Dongmyeong to be entirely honest, but there wasn’t anything about him you disliked. It was just that before this year you had never had any classes with him, so you had never gotten the chance to get close to him. But this year you supposed you would have to. With this lunch period, he was the only one you had to eat lunch with.

Well… Him and the new girl Maria who was on exchange from America.

“It was really nice of you to let me sit with you guys,” Maria said softly. You rolled your eyes, brushing off the sentiment. “It’s hard to make friends at this school, you’re just lucky that you met us first. We are the best after all.”

You high fived Dongmyeong, both of you giving her toothy smiles. She giggled and pulled her box of food out from her bag.

“Uh-huh, it sure does seem like that’s true.”

You all laughed together and began to eat your lunch. You all had drastically different foods. You ate rice and meats that you had made at home. Maria was eating salads and yogurts and nuts, while Dongmyeong preferred to eat the food provided by the school.

The three of you became rather accustomed to one another and your differences as the weeks unfolded. Despite your varying personalities, you all got along well enough and just like every year, you all just fell into your habits.

“Just look at Jihoon today,” Chanhee would gush.

“What did you write for question 3 on the quiz?” Dongmyeong would ask.

“What fun things are there to do in this town?” Maria would inquire.

And again every day would repeat.

You would talk about classes and smile at your friends and acquaintances as you came across them in the halls. You went to auditions for the fall school play and you got in. Every Friday night, you and your closest friends went to the basketball games, and you cheered everyone on.

You actually knew a lot of the people on the team.

Jun, for one, had been in a number of your class before. One year you had almost all of your classes together, and he would copy your Chemistry homework in the cooking class the two of you shared. He loved to tease you and was a lot more popular in the traditional sense then you were. It was kind of funny how excited he got to see you sometimes when in most of the stereotypical ways, he should just ignore your existence.

You also knew Seungkwan, you had been in theatre together every single year of high school and you two got along fantastically when you were partnered together on stage. He even happened to be in the play with you.

Minghao and Seokmin were also in the show with you, and you were hardly even touching on-

Well, you supposed thinking it over, you knew everybody on the basketball team. Going on and on about all of them was entirely useless.

You loved to stand on the sidelines, arms in the air, smile spread across your face as you cheered for each and every one of the boys.

You liked it when life just… Stayed like this. So even. So familiar. So… Easy.

“Hey look,” you mumbled, bumping Chanhee with your elbow. “Jihoon is wearing an oversized sweater again.”

Normally, whenever he wore his clothes too big, it was the perfect chance for everyone to fall over, practically cooing over how cute he was. Especially Chanhee. You thought it was shallow to fangirl so much over someone just for their appearance, but you had gotten used to noting exactly what things that Jihoon did that were so cute.

You couldn’t help it.

He was always wearing clothes too big for him. When he was sitting at his desk and got really bored he would distract himself by playing with the sleeves of whatever sweater he was wearing, becoming so awed by the strings unraveling from the hem.

He was so childlike in that way, but so serious in others.

His facial expression wasn’t ever joyous… At least, not when you would look at him. His lips would quirk upwards a little bit when he was talking to Mingyu in class, but other than that you had never seen him smile.

You couldn’t help but think that he was quite the little mystery.

“Oh, yeah I’m over that,” Chanhee said, waving off the statement. You frowned.

“Over what?”

“Over Jihoon,” she replied.

A puzzled smile crossed your lips.

“What? You never liked him though.”

Changhee brushed her hair out of her face and sighed.

“He’s just not that cute anymore I guess.”

“What do you mean? He’s wearing a pink oversized sweater, his hair is falling in his face, and I saw him in the library the other day practically climbing a bookcase just in order to grab a book from the top shelf,” you stated bluntly. “How is that not cute?”

Chanhee shrugged and turned her attention to her paper in front of her.

“I just don’t think that he’s that cute anymore.”

That… Regrettably enough was the start of your borderline obsession with Lee Jihoon.

You couldn’t figure out how Chanhee could be so shallow that she would just decide one day he wasn’t cute. Cuteness wasn’t defined by how you were feeling that day. If someone was cute last week, they were cute eternally.

You loathed the fact that she was now trying to pretend like she never thought he was cute and even worse, the fact that she was now trying to make you find him less cute.

“I saw him reading in the library the other day. He wasn’t with anyone, but the way that the sunlight was shining on him… I almost sat with him,” you said softly.

“Didn’t you hear?” She responded, the disgust actually spread over her face. “Rumor has it that he won’t change in the same room as all the other guys during phys ed, or anything because he doesn’t like people to see him without a shirt on.”

“So?” You countered, mirroring her expression. “I was just like that when you met me, the only reason I’m not anymore is because of Theatre.”

She rolled her eyes.

“It’s just weird.”

The more that she stated that liking him was weird and dumb, the more that you realized just how easy it was to really like him.

He was cute after all.

But it also made you wonder why he didn’t seem to have many friends. Other then Mingyu, at least.

And to add onto that…

“Why can’t I remember ever seeing Jihoon before?” You asked, looking at Dongmyeong thoughtlessly. “I mean, before this year we never had any classes together.”

Dongmyeong chuckled at your question but stopped short when you didn’t laugh as well.

“Are you serious?” He asked. “The guy is new to our school this year.”

Of course.

That explained his lack of friends, that explained why you had never seen him before, and that explained…

“Is he sitting over there?” You asked suddenly.

At lunch, you had never bothered to sit facing the rest of the cafeteria. There was no reason for it, you had just sat towards a wall rather than towards people.

So now that you could actually, see the people around you, you noticed that Jihoon had this lunch, and more surprisingly was sitting all on his own.

Dongmyeong lazily looked over his shoulder at the other boy.

“Yeah, I guess he is.”

You stared at him silently, watching as he picked up a sandwich. He wrinkled his nose momentarily before putting the sandwich in his mouth.

“You should invite him to come sit with us,” you stated after a moment. “Aren’t you guys friends?”

Dongmyeong snorted.

“We aren’t really friends, we just have a few classes together,” he responded back.

“Well, I can’t do it,” you replied. “It has to be you.”

“Why can’t it be you?”

“Have you ever seen him talking to girls?” you bit back. He spread his lips into an overenthusiastic smile.

“Hey, look at that, you get to be the first!”

You went to protest that again, but you were interrupted by him closing his fingers into a tight fist.

“Fighting!”

You sighed. You couldn’t expect Maria to go over there and try to get Jihoon to sit with the three of you. He wouldn’t say yes to just anybody, and Maria was just as new here as everyone else.

For crying out loud you were a school ambassador. It was your job to make everyone at school feel totally welcomed…

Well, it was your job to give tours to possible new students of your school but the two things kind of went hand in hand.

You stood up, swallowing thickly.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” you mumbled. You turned around over your shoulder and stared at Jihoon briefly. He didn’t seem to notice your gaze, so you gave yourself half a second to catch your bearings, and you walked right over to him.

“Hey, Jihoon right?” You said. He looked up at you, his eyebrows raising slightly in recognition. “You know we’re practically desk buddies in AP Lang.”

You laughed, but he didn’t. He didn’t even smile. Your smile dimmed slightly but you decided not to let it dim too much.

“Yeah, I know, you’re y/n.”

So, he knew your name. That made things a little easier.

“I know that I don’t know you crazy well or anything, but my friends and I noticed you were sitting alone and were wondering if you wanted to sit with us,” you started. “Dongmyeong’s over there, and I don’t know if you know Maria, but she’s new too, so it’s not like any of us are buddy buddy yet anyways.”

He looked from you to the table and then back to you.

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Uh-”

“Before you say no!” You blurted out, putting your fingers in front of your face. “If you don’t want to sit with us tomorrow you totally don’t have to.”

“I wasn’t going to say no,” he replied. He pointed at the time on his cellphone. Lunch was going to be over in a few minutes. “I was going to say tomorrow.”

You smiled and nodded.

“Alright, that’s fair,” you stated. You turned over your shoulder and began to walk back over to your table. You paused when you got halfway back to your seat and looked back at Jihoon over your shoulder. “Just so you know, I’m totally holding you to that.”

He didn’t respond, just tapped his phone screen. After his index finger had hit it twice the school bell had rung and everyone began to file out of the cafeteria. You didn’t watch him leave, but you certainly wanted to.

“Well, what did he say?” Dongmyeong asked as he picked up his lunch tray. You smiled.

“Tomorrow.”

The next day you were weirdly giddy.

So giddy in fact that when you walked into class that day and saw him sitting in his usual spot you said hi and you weren’t even nervous to do so.

You skipped down the hall towards the lunchroom that day and stopped short when you looked to the side and saw that… Jihoon was right there. You raised your eyebrows.

“Jihoon? What a coincidence,” you greeted giving him a toothy smile. “I didn’t know you had Mr. Brendle’s class this period. You must be smart.”

He looked over at you.

“You know what I haven’t decided yet?” He asked. You tilted your head.

“What?”

“Whether or not I like you.”

You scoffed.

“Are you crazy? Of course you do, everyone likes me when I first meet them,” you responded immediately. You honestly regretted it the minute it left your mouth. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Right,” he responded with a whistle. He fell a couple of steps in front of you, which made you furrow your eyebrows in frustration. You rushed to catch up with him and then slid in front of him.

“Look really I’m not trying to be conceited or anything. I just… People usually like me when they first meet me. I haven’t made friends in years, people just make friends with me,” you explained.

“Well I didn’t,” he replied confidently. “At honestly, I don’t have any intention of doing so.”

You huffed out a breath of air, staring at him uncertainly.

When people called you an extrovert, they were idiots.

You always had this… intense anxiety when it came to other people. No one ever believed you when you talked about it, because when you got close to people it really wasn’t evident and you moved mountains to make sure that people didn’t know you had as much social anxiety as you did.

But there was a reason that when most people first met you they described you as quiet. There was a reason you had never dated anyone before. There was a reason you had never yourself made a friend in your life.

You didn’t know how to act around people.

Normally when you got to know guys, you met them, were at first shocked by their kindness towards you but were still innately terrified of them.

You had this really weird phase you always went through, it usually only lasted a week or so where you just… Didn’t know what guys wanted with you. You weren’t sure who to be around them, how to act. Then after the period was over it became super easy to just… Be their friend.

But with Jihoon… Well, he wasn’t surprising you with his kindness. He wasn’t trying to befriend you despite all odds. He was just… He was different.

You didn’t feel awkward around him, you felt- dare you say it- you felt brave.

“Oh, I’ll change that,” you stated confidently. “Ask anybody, you think you can just escape my charms?”

You stage laughed, putting your hands on your hips and bouncing your shoulders. He sighed.

“You’re crazy,” he decided.

“I’m an actress,” you corrected. He brushed past you, which made you frown slightly. “Hey, you know you still have to eat lunch with us!”

Jihoon did still eat lunch with you. In fact, he fell into your group pretty well.

He was still pretty quiet but he sat there and listened pretty attentively to all of your conversations. He was also a boxed lunch kind of guy, meaning his mom packed his food which was literally the cutest thing to think about.

Like just to imagine if you like, say grew up to be really close to him and he wasn’t with his mom anymore so you started packing his lunches and-

Ah, right, getting a little off-topic.

“Look, I don’t really care what you say, Marvel is objectively better,” you stated. “Do people come out of a DC movie feeling like their entire world just got turned upside down, turned inside out, turned upright again, and then turned inside out all over again?”

“But the television shows-”

“DC television shows are fine but they are much darker and more serious then Marvel movies are,” you started.

“That’s just an opinion,” Dongmyeong shot back.

“You’re right, that was just an opinion. When Avengers Infinity War first came out, like the day it was spoiled for most people six times before first period got out,” you stated. “I haven’t even heard what happened in the last six seasons of Arrow.”

“That’s not fair,” Dongmyeong objected. You pointed at Jihoon who was eating quietly across the table. He didn’t jump at all his eyes had already been on you.

“Well, Judge Jihoon,” you said loudly. “Who do you think wins this one?”

Jihoon squinted at you.

“Well, firstly I think that you are both idiots.”

Without even looking at Maria, he seemed to notice her raise her hand and he hit it with his own in a high-five.

“Secondly, you guys aren’t even factoring in comic books,” he stated. You scoffed.

“Do you really think that if we go to comic books DC is better than Marvel?”

“Almost all of the Marvel superheroes were ripped off from DC!” Dongmyeong blurted out. You turned to face him sharply.

“Just because they did Iron Man better than Bat Man-”

“How dare you.”

Dongmyeong and you would have continued like that, but you were interrupted suddenly by Jihoon laughing. You both looked at him, laughing a little bit too.

It was something completely different to see him smile like that. He didn’t laugh much around you, so whenever he did you felt this incomprehensible need to stop whatever you were doing and just… Appreciate it.

Being friends with him you just felt… So powerful.

He walked down the hallways, and had this super serious face, but all you had to do was say: Hi Jihoon.

And he would smile and wave back.

“Why are you doing this?” Jihoon asked as you walked with him to his car one day after happening into him after school. You turned your head to the side.

“Doing what?”

“Trying so hard to befriend me,” Jihoon replied. “Why not just… Give up.”

“I never know why,” you responded mysteriously. “Just who.”

He made a face at you, so you laughed.

“Okay, that was a Doctor Who reference, but it totally fits the situation,” you stated with a laugh. “I’ve never wanted to be friends with someone who didn’t want to be friends with me. I’m sure you know that feeling. You just… Know who you are going to be friends with.

Jihoon didn’t respond so you looked away from him.

“You really don’t think that the two of us could be good friends one day?”

“Well-”

You interrupted him with a roll of your eyes.

“You're breaking my heart Jihoon. I’ll see you around tomorrow okay?”

Jokes aside, and you genuinely thought that all of your efforts were worth it.

Jihoon seemed to be warming up you.

Smiling more, laughing more.

Sure, he never sought you out but that was just the way he was.

At least… That’s what you told yourself before the whole cafeteria incident.

There were some days… Early release school days in which school started at the same time that it always did but you guys got out of school like two whole hours earlier.

You weren’t sure why the school system had implicated these, but you did know that you liked them. It shortened your usually long classes meaning some teachers didn’t even bother to teach. It also totally messed up the lunch schedules. Instead of being four lunches, there were only three, and pretty much all of the classes had to be there for first lunch, which meant that you got to eat with pretty much all your friends.

A good thing, right? What could possibly be bad about that, right?

Well, nothing at first. You looked around, spotted your friends and began to eat lunch with them. There were so many people in the cafeteria that you weren’t able to hear anything very well, you had to be loud just to be heard. You couldn’t really see anybody either because there were so many large crowds of people.

You had idly wondered if Jihoon was there, but you had figured that if he was… Well, surely you would notice.

And then with about ten minutes left in the lunch period you looked over at.

“Oh my god, Jihoon is right over there,” you blurted.

Chanhee looked to the side, not seeming to be very interested in the conversation topic. Maria, however, looked at you curiously.

“Wonder why he didn’t sit with us.”

You squinted and cracked your knuckles.

“I’m going to find out.”

You walked over to the table, and before you were even halfway there you were calling his name.

“Lee Jihoon, what do you think you’re doing?”

Jihoon’s face reddened, and he looked over at you with that big bright smile that rarely ever appeared shining across his face.

“Eating lunch?” He responded, his voice shaking just a little bit with the words. You sighed.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you replied. “How could you not sit with us?”

“Sorry?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Would you like to sit with us Jihoon?” You asked formally. Of course, you never really thought that you needed to say it and of course, you just assumed he would say-

“Well, lunch is almost over, there’s not really much of a point in going to eat with you guys now,” he stated.

Your mouth fell open.

“What?” You blurted. “So, you’re not going to come eat with us?”

“Well…”

You couldn’t believe it. He was really just going to not eat with them? They ate lunch together all the time! Why was today any different?

You squinted at him, the action freezing Jihoon. He didn’t respond to you, just stared sheepishly.

“Fine,” you mumbled. “I’ll just come eat with you then.”

Jihoon’s eyes widened.

“Wait-”

You ignored his protests. You stormed back over to your table and grabbed your lunch bag. Then you walked back over to Jihoon and put it down on the table.

“So, how has your day been today?”

He was red and he was clearly surprised by your forwardness but you didn’t care.

You two were friends for goodness sake. Friends ate lunch together.

“If he didn’t sit with us once, obviously I’m not trying hard enough,” you stated firmly. Chanhee’s eyebrows rose.

“Well, I don’t know for sure if that’s what that means,” she began but you ignored her.

“Obviously I just need a Plan B,” you said, putting your index finger, triumphantly in the air. Changhee frowned.

“Did you ever have a Plan A?” She asked.

You ignored that too.

“Okay, so first we tried getting him to be our friend by being assertive,” you stated pointedly.

“You tried that,” Chanhee corrected.

“I tried to be the me I am when people finally befriend me, and that’s intimidating,” you stated.

“What are you-”

You shoved your hand in her face.

“Plan B. I take a step back.”

“That’s the dumb-”

“Most brilliant plan you’ve ever heard?” You said excitedly.

She sighed and shook her head, but then again who cared what she thought. She had always been a hater anyways.

You decided Plan B was the best plan you had going for yourself, so you sensibly took a step back.

No more forcing conversation in the hall, no more going way out of your way to walk with him to close. Instead, you just kept things more mundane. No more yelling out his name in the hallway. Instead, something more normal.

You waved at him in the halls still, you still talked to him at lunch, and you still watched that show that he seemed to like so much just for a conversation topic.

You just did less.

You kept yourself a little less intense.

Then he would start to consider you guys to truly be friends.

And so that’s what you did.

For the next few weeks, you were yourself, just… A little less when it came to Jihoon.

His reaction to it, was interesting to say the least.

He had never approached you specifically before, never initiated conversation, but he started doing so only  a few days after you started being less engaging.

He said hi to you, asked you how you had been… Once he even called your name out from all the way across the courtyard to tell you about something that had happened in Basketball that he was particularly excited about.

One day, he even caught you walking towards your car and he took your hand, saying that he had seen you fall earlier that day and wanted to make sure you were okay… The kicker was that you had never fallen.

It warmed your heart to see him like that.

Whenever he made excuses to be around you, your heart skipped a beat, though you told yourself that was just a side effect of bad eating habits.

“Seungkwan!” You exclaimed jumping down three steps on the bleachers just to get to the other boy faster. Seungkwan turned to you, his eyes lighting up.

“Y/n!” He said excitedly. “You came!”

You rolled your eyes.

“Of course I came! When don’t I come?” You asked. He chuckled, giving you a double high five.

“Well, this game was two hours away,” Seungkwan responded.

“I make that trip in my sleep,” you assured.

“Y/n!”

Another voice exclaimed, rushing over to you. You glanced over your shoulder and smiled at Seokmin.

“Hey!” You said eagerly. You paused after only a second. “Wait don’t-”

He wrapped his arms around you and you roared with laughter.

“Get your sweaty body off of me Seokmin,” you blurted. You struggled against the taller boy, but he didn’t seem to mind it at all. He just laughed.

“Ah, what’s wrong? Not excited to see your favorite costar?”

You finally broke free of his grasp and struck a defensive position.

“Geez, you get blocked to kiss one guy on stage-”

“Hey, what are you trying to say?” Seungkwan asked getting offended. “You kissed me onstage last year.”

“And now you pick fun at me all the time,” you replied. “That’s exactly my point.”

Recently with all the rehearsals, you had gotten really close to Seungkwan, Minghao, and Seokmin. Minghao a little less then Seungkwan and Seokmin, but that was just because he wasn’t in as many of the same scenes as you.

You’d already been asked by a number of people if you were dating either of the boys. You’d even skipped lunch to run lines and work on blocking with the two for the show. Jihoon hadn’t commented on it, but you felt bad for leaving him with the others at lunch. It felt wrong to not tease him for acting like he didn’t know you in AP Lang just because Mingyu was around.

“You’ve kissed two guys? What a little hoe,” Jun teased. He walked over to you and began to ruffle your hair teasingly. You swatted his hand away.

“Takes one to know one,” you mumbled, sticking your tongue out at Jun.

“Come on, if you kissed those two I’m sure you’d love to kiss a guy like me,” Jun teased lightly. He pursed his lips at you. “Just one kiss?”

“You better not be trying to actually kiss me,” you said, letting out a surprised laugh as he grew close to you. “I can’t believe I was actually going to tell you that you played a good game tonight.”

Jun ignored you and began to grow closer, so you shrieked and tore away from him, running across the basketball court.

“Stay away from me!” You blurted. “Minghao, Minghao.”

You weeded through the crowd of people, mostly boys from the other team, but you were surprised to see some people you knew.

“Oh, hey Seungcheol, nice form out there today.”

“Thanks, y/n. Glad you could make it.”

You rushed through the crowd, but instead of finding him, you bumped right into somebody else entirely.

You laughed at first, still giddy from messing around with the other guys, but it was then that you realized who it was. His jersey number, 17… You sobered up immediately.

“Ah! Jihoon, hi,” you said shyly. You raised your hand in a small wave, hoping to duck away from him without seeming like a lot, but that was of course when Jun caught up to you.

He grabbed you from behind, lifting you into the air, spinning you once and twice. He laughed.

“Caught you! Now about that kiss-”

“Jun!” You blurted. “Let me go!”

He held you higher the more that you thrashed, so finally you pouted and gave in to his strength.

“You’re the worst,” you mumbled. He laughed and finally set you down.

“You’re just too easy to mess with,” he replied. “I mean, come on, I know a little boyfriend virgin like you wouldn’t be brave enough to kiss me. I’m much cooler than you.”

You shot him a glare.

“Don’t call me that,” you insisted, swatting him in the arm. “Or else-”

As you turned your body, you finally spotted just the guy you had been looking for. Your eyes widened.

“Minghao!” You exclaimed. You rushed over to him, hiding behind his skinny body. “Minghao, Jun is bullying me!”

Minghao didn’t laugh, all he did was hum and look over at the other boy. Jun immediately raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay I’ll leave her alone for now,” he said. He glanced over at Jihoon. “I mean if someone would just go ahead and take her boyfriend virginity I’d leave her alone all the time.”

“One-” You interrupted, putting a single finger up in the air. “Stop referring to it like that, ew. Two, you’re so right. I’m ready to be wifed up.”

The boys all chuckled, and Seungkwan and Seokmin raced over from where they had been left.

“Did someone say, wife? Are you finally going to marry me after all these years?” Seungkwan asked theatrically. You giggled.

In the very first show, you guys did together, you played two people madly in love with one another… But you had been a girl who was playing hard to get. It meant that Seungkwan proposed to her in almost every scene they had previously had together but you guys never officially gotten together.

Those characters had, however, done a lot of kissing.

Unrealistic right? To kiss someone and then pretend like you two weren’t dating?

“Marry you?” You asked coyly. “Why sir, is that really how you are going to ask me?”

“Well, how else should I ask a lass like you?” He replied back. You walked over to him, placing a finger beneath his chin.

“A little something like…” You let your lips grow close to his, so close that a finger couldn’t fit between both of your faces. Then, the two of you laughed, and you pulled away, resting your elbow on his shoulder.

You were going to say something else about it, when suddenly, Jihoon turned away muttering a gruff, “I’ll be back.”

You scrunched your nose.

“What was that about?” You asked.

Seungkwan glanced at you.

“You really don’t know?” He asked.

“We thought for sure you were doing it on purpose,” Seokmin agreed with a nod. You looked over at the other boy.

“Doing what on purpose?”

“Playing hard to get?” He replied pointedly. “Jihoon says you stopped talking to him as much.”

“Oh, that wasn’t playing hard to get,” you said confused. “It’s Plan B.”

“You’re pregnant?” Jun blurted. You scoffed.

“You know I’m not,” you stated. “Look, I’ve just been trying to befriend him, and it wasn’t working out being… Forward so I stepped back.”

“You? Forward?” Seungkwan scoffed. “When we had to kiss for the first time you were so nervous I thought you were going to throw up.”

“Yeah, yeah, well with Jihoon it’s different,” you insisted. “He’s different. I don’t know what it is about him, but I’m never worried about what to say or do around him. I skipped that whole awkward phase I usually do, and I just knew what to say.”

The boys stared at you openmouthed, making you frown slightly.

“What? Why are you guys looking at me like that?” You asked. Seungkwan patted your head.

“You totally like him,” he stated. You laughed.

“What?!” “You definitely like him,” Seokmin agreed. “He was just different? You just knew what to say? When it comes to a guy? And you thought that he was just another person to you?”

“Well…”

“Let me guess, you go the extra mile to get him to be close to you, always delighting in being one of the few people to make him smile?” Jun guessed. You sheepishly let your hands fall to your sides. He sighed.

“The two of them, am I right?”

Seungkwan and Seokmin nodded in agreement. Which made you swat all three of the boys.

“Shut up,” you blurted. Your heart was suddenly pounding in your chest, your cheeks a dark red. “Do you guys… Do you guys think that he likes me too?”

Jun rolled his eyes and swatted you on your butt sharply. You yelped and turned away from him.

“Go after him, tiger.”

You stuck your tongue out at the three boys, but still went after the boy in question.

“Hey, Jihoon!” You called after him. He turned over his shoulder, genuinely looking surprised to see you.

“Y/n,” he stated. You slowed down beside him and bumped shoulders with him pleasantly.

“So… What was that back there?” You asked him. He squinted at you, and then looked to the side.

“What was what?”

“The deeper voice, the nonchalant look away, how you just stormed off…” You trailed off dramatically. “I don’t know Jihoon, it seemed an awful lot like you were jealous for me.”

“Jealous?” Jihoon asked in surprise. He spluttered indignantly and crossed his arms. “I don’t get jealous.”

“You sure about that one?” You asked him back, poking him gently in the chest. He rolled his eyes and looked away from you.

“So, your new boyfriends told you huh?” He asked you in aggravation. You chuckled.

“Boyfriends?” You asked. “I would never date any of them.”

You paused and rethought your worrying on that one.

“Nothing against them, it’s just… Well, we’re just friends.”

Jihoon sighed.

“Right, like us.”

“I mean,” you began. He turned to look at you, his eyes widening. Your cheeks warmed a bit. “Well, I know that you’ve never really dated anyone before and stuff… And I’ve kissed some people on stage, but it’s nothing like a real first kiss I’m sure.”

You nervously closed the distance between the two of you, taking Jihoon’s hands in your own.

“I mean, just think, right after an away game, you’re with the girl you like behind the basketball court…” You brushed your nose against his. “It won’t cure your jealousy, but what if every time I had to kiss Seokmin onstage, I came offstage and kissed you.”

Jihoon’s face was unbelievably red and it was so unbelievably cute.

“I guess I could maybe be open to that,” Jihoon mumbled. “But… I’ve never kissed someone before.”

He shuffled his feet nervously against the ground. You hummed.

“Not to remind you why you’re jealous in the first place, but don’t worry, I’m a little experienced in this field. I can help you out,” you assured. You tilted your head to the side slightly and closed the distance between your lips.

When your lips connected, Jihoon’s first instinct was to pull away slightly. You let him of course, able to feel his hesitation. You didn’t press forward at all, instead, you let him briefly break the kiss, before reconnecting it, deepening the kiss himself.

You were surprised by how… Passionate he was when he finally got his arms around you pulled your hips closer to his and his lips began to prod at your lips-

You pulled away gasping for air.

“Are we really sure that I’m the rookie here?” You asked. Jihoon laughed and shrugged.

“I guess I just caught on quick… Or thought about this a lot.”

You swatted Jihoon away from you and brushed yourself off. You had a lot you wanted to do, a lot to say…. But the first question on your mind was for some reason…

“Why do you wear fake glasses?” You asked.

He made a face.

“That’s the first thing you ask after kissing me?”

You shrugged so he sighed.

“Okay, well, uh, we had this bonding camp thing one of the first weeks of school and the whole team was around a fire talking about crushes and such,” he started. “So I admitted that I thought you were kinda cute-”

“You’ve liked me since the first couple weeks of school?” You asked in surprise. He shot you a glare, so you shut up.

“Well, Jun suggested that if I wanted you to notice me I should wear glasses because all girls think that guys in glasses are cute.”

You laughed.

“That is the-”

“Dumbest?” Jihoon offered. You shook your head and placed your lips on his.

“Cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” you corrected.

“Hey, it worked!”

You groaned, turning back to look at the three boys.

“You couldn’t give us ten seconds alone?” You asked. Seokmin shrugged.

“We gave you three.”

You laughed and raced over to them excitedly. You dropped your voice to be a bit quieter.

“Plan B worked,” you hissed. Jun rolled his eyes.

“Plan B was making you lose Jihoon. This was Plan C,” he insisted. You crossed your arms.

“I never would have found out he liked me had it not been for Plan B,” you retorted. Jihoon looked over your shoulder inquisitively.

“You had Plans?”

You laughed and shook your head.

“Uh, let’s not talk about this one just yet.”

You didn’t care what they said, your plans totally had worked and you had succeeded in making Jihoon the best kind of friend a girl could have. A boyfriend.

And you thought that truly did make this a win-win situation.

#tsuredere seventeen #THE LUNCH SCENE ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO ME BTW #I was trying to befriend this guy in high school #and he didn't sit with us on an early release day #and i don't know what posessed me to this day #but i invited him to eat with us #he said no #so i ate with him #I SWEAR ITS THE BOLDEST THING I'VE DONE TO THIS DAY #He didn't fall in love with me though smh #i did end up liking him senior year though #so jokes on me #Seventeen #seventeen kpop #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #Tsudere Seventeen #Svt #svt woozi #svt fanfic #svt kpop #svt lee jihoon #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #woozi #woozi imagines #woozi feels #man i love this man

[quillreflections]

Title: Beautiful Times [song]

Chapter: oneshot

Series: Yugioh GX

Pairing: Jaden Yuki/Reader

Disclaimer: kinda old, written because I love traveler’s notebooks, basically just me getting one of my recurring daydreams down on paper tbh

The pen's cartridge burst in his grip, splattering all over the page, his hand, the front of his shirt- he lets out a strangled groan in frustration, standing up off the bench and shaking his hand, sending more ink flying. He looked back to the page he'd just been writing on; stained deep, unfortunately. Flipping a few pages forward proved that, the ink leaking further.

From over his shoulder, a voice echoes- not entirely there, but loud enough for him to hear. "Jaden. You've been distracted lately."

Wiping his stained hand down the front of his equally-stained shirt, Jaden turns to face Yubel. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she barely floats above the bench, her dual-colored gaze narrowing at him. He smiles sadly, almost automatically reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, barely stopping himself in time. "I just- I dunno, I'm fine."

Jaden sits back down, absently examining his surroundings as he lets the ink-stained pages dry so he can keep writing.

This place felt nothing like home.

A bustling city, with the buildings towering much higher than anything on the Duel Academy's campus, filled with people who barely cared about dueling and just preferred going about boring, everyday lives. He couldn't tell the differences between the office buildings and the penthouses, because every time he looked up, there was a professional-looking somebody on every balcony or in every window, getting into arguments on the phone, chugging what seemed to be their fifth coffee of the hour.

On one of the balconies above him now, a young woman leaned over the railing, waving a piece of paper at a man who didn't seem to hear her as he joined the jostling crowd of people on the sidewalk. The woman pouts, and her eyes wander. Jaden waves.

The ink has mostly dried. Next to the worst of the splatter, he scrawls a note about clumsiness and turns the page.

"What will happen when you reach the end of this book? What will you do?" Yubel tilts her head curiously, watching Jaden fill several pages with his messy handwriting before he responds.

"I'll just get another one. That's what you do with notebooks."

"That. . . isn't what I meant."

He refuses to look at her.

Jaden's fingers tap in patterns on the leather cover and the cluttered pages as he flips back and forth. Yubel goes silent, not asking anymore questions, but instead trying to tune into her human partner's thoughts. Unfortunately, Jaden has much more control of himself than one would expect; there's practically a wall around his own spirit, and try as she might, she can't peer into his heart.

It seems he's closed it to her. It's for someone else now.

Maybe it always has been.

☆☆☆

Barely a week later, Jaden hunkers down under a heaping, twisting steel structure, hoping that a place like this doesn't have any guards to notice the small fire he's lit. He admires the roller coaster looming above him; the light of his pitifully small fire only goes so far, and a vast majority of the ride stretches off into the darkness.

Smiling to himself, he digs through his unorganized bag until he finally finds the camera he'd saved for. It was instant, and had no phone or internet connectivity, and most would consider it old-fashioned, but as he rocks back on his heels to take a picture, Jaden is perfectly happy with it. The camera whirs and clicks for a moment before spitting out a blank image, and he's careful to hold it away from the fire as the picture fades in.

As the image develops, Jaden sinks down into the grass, resting his back against one of the large metal supports. His fishes out the notebook- agh, there's a myriad of new scratches across the leather- and starts writing.

She likes to hear stories. So he tells one to the page, reminiscing about amusement park visits as a child, with his family or for birthdays, recounting all the times he'd ridden coasters until he was sick. He carefully sticks the picture onto the page and smiles. Maybe they can go to one together someday.

The chain link fence clatters off in the distance. He kicks dust over the fire to put it out.

☆☆☆

"I've decided!" He says aloud, to both Yubel and the store clerk. She floats closer. The man behind the counter steps over, holding the case keys. Jaden points to the small charm, and the clerk smiles as he removes it, holding it up to the light for them both to admire.

"A rather feminine choice; for anyone in particular?" He has a knowing smile on his face.

Jaden blushes as he smiles back, but he doesn't give any particular answer.

He fumbles with the small bag as he leaves the store, pulling the tiny charm from its fancy little packaging and clipping it to the elastic closure on the notebook. It suits the thing well; a small bronze heart, decorated sparsely with twinkling red rhinestones, looking like an absolute treasure as it rests on the deep brown leather.

He senses Yubel's gaze boring into him.

"You've decided?"

"Yep!" Jaden forces himself to keep walking. "As soon as it's full, I'll. . ." his voice trails off, and he smiles at the Duel Spirit. "I'll do it, I really will."

☆☆☆

Shipping was expensive.

The young man frowned at the prices listed up on the board. It all varied by weight and distance- he tucks the box under his arm and holds his fingers up in front of his face, muttering and trying to do the math. Yeah, way too expensive for something only that far.

He turns to leave the post office, pushing past the line of people.

One old woman, holding a stack of what looks like bills. A teenage boy, waving an envelope and holding it to the light; it's sealed with a heart-shaped sticker, and he seems nervous. A young mother, guiding her small children to the counter, each of them holding a small package and grinning at each other.

What would she look like when she got it? Would she smile? Would she cry? He hoped it wouldn't be sad tears.

Jaden steps into the cold. The freezing air hits his lungs and rejuvenates him. Shifting the box to one hand, he pulls out another notepad, one he's had for awhile- the one she'd scrawled her address on at graduation, before he'd left. The last time they'd seen each other.

He hoped she hadn't moved since then.

He starts walking, looking up at the street signs as he passes. He slowed for a moment to check a map on one of the street corners; it'd be a long walk, but that's fine.

The cluttered city streets meld into suburbs, and cute neighborhoods, and the sidewalks go from well-maintained to cracked and broken and crumbling and well-used. He trots along, running a cold hand along a rough stone wall as he passes, stopping to pet a cat.

He's not nervous.

Graduation really wasn't that long ago- she couldn't have forgotten him already. And she'd said. . . she'd said she would wait for him as long as needed-

There it is.

Jaden stops outside the fence surrounding the cute house. The gate is more for decoration than anything; it swings open easily as he rests his hand on it. Not even locked.

His eyes nervously search each window as he approaches the home. He doesn't think he can face her yet, so he's praying she isn't watching from somewhere here can't see.

Finally reaching the porch, Jaden brings his hand up to knock on the door, but he hesitates; behind him, he feels a whisper of air, and when he turns, Yubel is motioning him onward with her wings.

He inhales deeply and knocks.

☆☆☆

You'd almost missed it.

There had been nobody at the door when you opened it, so you'd assumed it was some neighborhood kids fooling around- but then you'd noticed the small brown box on your welcome mat, with your name etched in very familiar handwriting. All of the air rushed out of your lungs.

Now, seated at your kitchen table, the sloppy packaging having fallen to the floor long ago, you're completely absorbed in the small leather notebook.

'I'm in Paris now! Man, I thought Slifer had some funky food-' A picture of plate after plate of cuisine.

'This reminded me of that story you told me about your parents!' An old movie theater, lit up at night.

'Today, in the middle of Italy, I met someone who needed me.' You smiled at that, remembering how lonely he'd seemed when he'd told you that was his plan.

Page after page after page of Jaden's messy handwriting. Stamps and stickers. Spilled ink. He'd pressed your favorite flowers in between a few pages, and included copies of your favorite card whenever he found them in another country.

On the very first page, he'd written your name. On the very last pages, a note.

'I'm sorry I've been gone so long. Believe me, I miss you more and more as the days go by- but now, no matter how things were, I don't know if you'd want to see me again. Are you still waiting for me? I promise I'll be home soon. Please, wait until then.'

You blink back a few tears, wondering how he could ever think you'd be unhappy to see him.

Maybe he hadn't gotten too far yet. Wiping your eyes, you climb out of your chair and head back to the front door, hoping to find another memory of the boy you feel so strongly for-

When you open the door, he freezes like a deer in headlights. His hand is in the air like he's going to knock again. You stare at each other for a long silent moment.

"I've missed you so much-!" The words feel like they're bursting out of him. You step forward, wrapping your arms around him, not quite believing he's real yet.

"Please don't leave me again." It's barely a whisper as you bury your face in his chest.

He wraps his arms around you in return, nuzzling into your hair and holding you close. "I'm home, [Name]."

#yugioh #gx #jaden yuki #beautiful times #oneshots

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Master of Puppets

(Yandere Risotto Nero X Female Reader)

Originally from my wattpad

Hope you enjoy

Ever since you were young you had an interest in forensics. You used to read about many of the murders that had shaken the world and watched many shows about how criminals had been brought to justice. You even had done projects on the subject for school passion projects.It was a life long passion that you persuaded, even thou your mother was hesitant on the idea due to the exultation of organised crime in Italy.

Eventually you had gotten the job you had been working so hard to get. You had finally become a forensic detective and it wasn't long until you had climbed through the ranks.

Now you were sitting at your desk in your bedroom. Looking through CCTV footage, scribbling down notes with one hand while eating take out butter chicken with the other.

Recently some rather strange death's had occurred. A man and his wife killed by a car that had bursted from inside of him, a man frozen under a lake in mid summer, a woman with several lacerations to her organs with no outer wounds, bodies of younger people found as old frail corpses and so on...

All of your coworkers had given up on the cases due to there not being and significant evidence to lead to any murderer, but you were determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

As of now you had found a few suspects, it seemed that they had always been around the area during the murders.

Your phone began to ring. You quickly paused the video and put down your pen before answering.

"Hello,(Y/n) (L/n) speaking"

"Hello (Y/n), I was just calling to see how your going" a familiar soothing voice said. The voice of your mother.

"Oh hi Mom! How are you!" You said as you put another piece of chicken in your mouth.

"Good, how about you"

"Tired. Been looking over CCTV footage for hours now" you said as you started reading over your notes.

"(Y/n)... I worry for your safety, what if you get caught up with the Mafia"

"I'm fine trust me, I've got it all under control" you said as you looked up to the board you had just above your desk. Several pieces of string were placed around the board to link up several profiles.

"Just make sure to keep yourself safe" she said.

"I will" you replied.

"Well, good night (y/n)"

"Night Mom" you said before hanging up, placing down your phone and getting back to work.

As you continued your work you couldn't help but feel as if you were being watched. Sometimes you felt someone breathing on your neck or playing with the strands of your hair but every time you turned around there was no one there.

'maybe it's just the fatigue' you thought.

"your so close, the last piece is right next to you" a voice whispered causing you to frantically look around, you found nothing.

'I need some sleep' you thought as you hopped into your bed.

🔗🔗🔗

The next two weeks those same sensations kept happening and dreams of a pair of red irises watching you looped in your mind. Eventually sleep had become something you didn't get, making coffee your best friend.

Your phone rang

"Hello, (y/n) (l/n) speaking" you spoke robotically as you answered.

"We've got another case you might want to add to that large stack of yours" your work colleague, Monica said.

"Meet me at the station, I'm about to do a toxicology test" she said before hanging up.

🔗🔗🔗

You had been feeling a bit feverish all day but after seeing what you had just saw you couldn't help but make a rush to the bathroom and throw your guts up.

"(Y/n)... What's going on? Your usually good with this stuff" Monica said. You spat out the remaining vomit from you mouth before grabbing a handful of toilet paper to wipe your mouth.

"I haven't been feeling well lately" you said before walking to the basin to quickly wash up. You left the bathroom and grabbed a cup of water before heading back into the autopsy room.

"How the fuck did he get a pair of scissors inside his neck without any openings!" You exclaimed.

"That's what you've got to figure out" Monica said to you.

🔗🔗🔗

"No! You can't be serious!" You yelled at you boss.

"Listen to me please I am just one piece away from cracking this case, you can't just tell me to surrender all my evidence and pretend that this all never happened!" You please.

"(Y/n) this case has gotten to your head. I can't have one of my best detectives drop dead because they can't manage themselves" he responded.

"Please there must be another way?" You asked. He looked through his notebook before replying.

"I'll need you to get a psychological report, if they give you any requirements to continue working you must follow them" he said.

"Yes I will" you said

🔗🔗🔗

"So (y/n) tell me what's been troubling you lately" the psychologist said as he held his note book and pen ready to jot down some notes.

"Well you know about my work so I'll skip that" you said.

"But lately I've been this strange feeling" you said as you stared at the roof.

"Like what?" He asked.

"Like I'm being watch... Whenever I'm doing my work I get these occasional feelings. Like a breath on my neck or something playing with my hair some times I hear voices that aren't there" you explained and he jotted what you said down.

"And I've also been having this strange recurring dream..."

"About what?"

"I'm being stared at by someone in the inky abyss"

"Do you know who it is?"

"No all I can see are a pair of red irises. Eyes without a face, nothing else"

"Any psychological tests you've had before" he asked.

"Last one I had was a mandatory psychological profile to see if I was fit for the job" you responded.

"And it came back relatively clean, enough to get me the job" you continued.

After that he gave you a few tests before grabbing his laptop and typing up his diagnosis and printing it.

"Miss (Y/n) I'm going to give you a prescription for apo-seratine which you need to take one tablet with breakfast, I also have advised your boss that you must take two days off a week" he explained to you.

"Hopefully that will help you out, if you need to enquire about anything else please call me to arrange another appointment" he continued.

🔗🔗🔗

"Hi Mom" you said over the phone.

"Hi sweetie, how are you?"

"Good, I was just wondering if we could meet up? I don't have work today so I just thought that we could spend the day out!" You asked

"Yes of course, dear!" She replied.

"We could have lunch at that restaurant that I use to take you to when you were little"

"Sounds like a great idea" you replied

🔗🔗🔗

The day had been a blast, you a d your mother had gone on a big shopping spree and eaten some delicious food but great times never lasted forever and the train ride back would be long.

"Bye Mom" you said as she hopped in her car.

"Bye (Y/n), have a safe ride" she said as she started the car and drove off.

You began to walk to the train station but stopped as you heard a scream, you quickly ran towards the ally that it came from, you halted as you saw the scene in front of you. A man being torn up as another male watched. You quickly grabbed out you camera an began to film the gory sight in front of you. The man turned and you hid behind the wall.

Was this the missing piece that you were looking for. Was he the man behind some of the murders.

You saved the video before running out the ally and into the main streets. Your heart began beating rapidly and you breathing became heavy.

"Excuse me miss, are you lost?" A male voice said. You turned to see who it was, it was him, looking at you with his red irises with the rest of his eyes were black.

You quickly formulated a plan.

"Yes I am sir! Could you please help me get to my hotel, it's supposed to be a few blocks down but I've seemed to have lost my way" you explained while attempting a french accent.

"Sure I can help you" he said in a monotone voice.

You quickly pulled out a town map that you had fetched earlier.

"It should be around here, I'm just horrible at following maps" you nervously giggled as you pointed to the street. He gave a small grin.

"I'll take you there" he offered.

"Yes please sir" you said as you grabbed out your phone and quickly texted work, telling them to send the police.

🔗🔗🔗

It seemed as if everything was going as planned, the hotel was only a few metres. You just had to bare your nerves for just a little longer. He then grabbed you and pulled you into the back alley. You tried to scream but you mouth had been stapled shut.

You flailed in his grip.

"You were so close, weren't you?" He said as he grabbed your camera from your bag, crushing it.

"You had every piece..." He continued as he did the same to your phone before resting his head in the crock of your neck.

"But I just can't let you unearth our secret... But I've grown far to attached to you to kill you..."

#jojos bizarre adventure #jojos #jojo part 5 #jojo golden wind #yandere #yandere x reader #Yandere jjba #risotto nero #jojo risotto #spacy works