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monsterenergysimp · 4 years

Text

Permanence

corpse husband x fem!reader

summary: you meet corpse on a stream and you’re surprised when he reaches out to you

warnings: cursing, mentions of tattooing

word count: 1.9k

notes: This is proof read but could have missed some stuff. This is my first corpse fic and my first time writing fanfic since I posted that super cringey book on wattpad when I was like 12 or something. I’d appreciate feed back so please reach out to me :)

main blog @itsmysleepover

read part 2 here!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were cleaning up your station so you can get home and stream. You loved your day job as a tattoo artist but you also really enjoyed streaming. It started as a way to promote yourself as an artist and the shop you worked at but it eventually became a really fun way to destress at the end of the week (or day if you were really itching to stream). “Hey Y/N was that your last client?” your boss, KC, asked as she walked to the front of the shop and put new flash drawings on the walls.

“Yes ma’am!” You said back excitedly. You finished cleaning your station and tossed your black gloves in the trash. “And you can’t trick me into staying and taking walk-ins,” you joked with her. She rolled her eyes and walked back into her office “It was one time,” she said as you slid on your jacket. As you walked out your phone buzzed in your pocket and you checked to see who had texted you. It was a message from Sean asking if you were free to play Among Us with him and some other streamers. You replied that you were on your way home right now and totally down. You were excited to see who was playing this time around since their Among Us streams are super entertaining and have gotten really popular.

On your way back you tweeted and posted to your Instagram story that you’d be streaming soon and set up all your stuff once you made it home. After a few minutes, you had a couple of thousand people watching. You entered the discord chat and Sean spoke up. “Everyone this is Y/N she’s sensitive so be gentle.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you guys and I’m not gentle, I'm ruthless,” You say into your mic and notice the chat calling you a liar. Everyone was in the lobby waiting for the game to start. “You sound way too sweet to be ruthless,” Corpse said. The countdown started and you were imposter with Charlie.

“This should be fun,” you told the stream. Yout tried playing strategically but after such a long shift your brain was mush. You saw Poki in nav and killed her then vented into shields. Not long after the body was reported and you were sure you were going to get voted out or at least sussed.

“Where was the body?” Felix asked. “Nav and I didn’t see anyone near there so whoever is imposter must have vented,” Corpse responded. Felix spoke up again. “I think I saw Y/N walk that way and I haven’t seen her since.”

Shit, shit, shit shit. “I’m in shield right now so-” you said trying to defend yourself but Charlie spoke up. “I was doing tasks with her earlier and I saw her walk into shields so she’s safe but I’m still not sure about Rae.” Everyone discussed a bit more and some people, including Corpse, voted for you but Rae got the majority vote and was ejected. You released your breath and kept playing being extra careful.

“Okay, guys that was super close. Corpse knows and is out to get me,” you said to the chat. You were eventually voted off but one round later victory was written across your screen with your ghost and Charlie’s avatar. “Good game guys,” Corpse said.

“I told you guys I was ruthless!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat at your station doing nothing because a client had canceled a four-hour session. You were listening to music and sketching some stuff but you were bored out of your mind and you didn’t want to leave in case you got a walk-in. The music got quiet as you received a twitter notification saying someone had messaged you. You reached for your phone and saw you had gotten a dm from Corpse.

C: hey :)

You didn’t know what to respond. You were mostly confused as to why he decided to message you out of the blue. Did he want something? But what would he want?

Y: Hii! This is sudden

C: was i bothering you?

shit sorry!

Y: Youre fine I wasn’t doing anything rn

C: how has your day been

i dont usually do stuff like this

Y: Im glad you did im doing better now I was so bored

C: what were you doing that was so terrible

Y: NOTHING! thats the problem :(

C: im sure youll find something to do

You stared at his message. Unsure what to respond.

Y: Im gonna give myself a tattoo

C: what?

NO!

You tossed the needles you used for your tattoo into the sharps box. “Oh my god you didn’t,” KC said. She noticed the wrap on your calve from the tattoo you just gave yourself out of boredom. “It’s not my fault I didn’t have anything else to do!” You said trying to defend yourself. She sighed and just shook her head. “Just go home business is slow today.” It was raining so the shop probably wasn’t going to get a walk-in anyway and you didn’t have any more clients for the day. It was only 2 pm but you drove home and after making lunch for yourself decided to stream. You weren’t expecting too many people so it was bound to be super chill. Your leg felt sore reminding you of the tattoo. You snapped a quick pic of the fresh jack-o-lantern on the side of your calve and messaged it to Corpse.

Y: [image] it came out nice!

C: thats super cool actually

i was concerned why you would just give yourself a tattoo but i found your instagram and youre super talented

Y: Thank you!

For some reason, it felt strange to just have that be the end of your response.

Y: Im about to start streaming if you wanted to watch

[link]

C: ill be watching ;)

What’s that supposed to mean?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat in your apartment watching tv, hand lost in a bag of Doritos, and scrolling through twitter. You had stopped paying attention to the anime playing on the screen since you’ve watched it a hundred times and knew you wouldn’t miss anything. It was Saturday and you usually take those days off. Take the time to do chores or meet up with some friends but today you felt like not doing any of those things. As you continue your endless scroll (not helping the twitter addiction you told yourself you’d try to get a handle on) you got a message from Corpse.

C: wanna talk?

You looked down at the message unsure of how to answer. It was a simple yes or no and the obvious answer was yes. You and Corpse had started talking more regularly. You still didn’t have each other’s phone numbers but it was fine. Your conversations weren’t too big-- just you sending him memes, tiktoks, and telling him how much you liked the songs he would drop. Or him complimenting a tattoo you did. Sometimes he’d message you during streams telling you funny stuff his fans would say in the chat and you’d do the same. You learned a bit about each other but nothing too deep or serious. Like how you two lived a few cities away and you both really liked Donnie Darko. When Sean first invited you to that game out of everyone else there you were most excited to meet Corpse. He’s just so sweet and funny. Of course, you’d love to talk to him but you were also itching to talk to him and the last thing you’d ever want to do was make him uncomfortable.

Y: Yeah id love to talk

Here goes nothing.

Y: Wanna facetime or something?

No pressure or anything it could even be a regular call

I think facetime is just my default lol

You sent those last two messages quickly after you had sent the first. You wished you could know what he was thinking. It was killing you to think you had turned him off from talking to you completely. You put your phone down on the couch and went to wash your hand of Dorito dust. When you got back from the kitchen you turned off the tv and tossed yourself onto the couch.

Still no message.

Why am I so fucking stupid?

Just as you were standing up to stretch from sitting on the couch all day your phone buzzed. You reached for it fast and looked to see that it was him. You became super excited still not even knowing what the message said. It could have told you to never talk to him again for all you knew.

C: sure lets facetime

xxx-xxx-xxxx

You had his phone number. You added him to your small but growing contact list and called. You sat on your couch waiting for a response when he finally picked up the screen was black. It didn’t upset you; you kind of expected it and didn’t care what he had to do to make himself more comfortable during this call.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was raspier than usual.

“Did you just wake up?” You asked and looked at the time. It was about a little past noon and you had only eaten Doritos all day. Shit, you should probably make a decent meal.

“Not that long ago but yeah,” he responded and giggled. That giggle.

“Well, I’ve eaten nothing but Doritos all day while rewatching Ouran High School Host Club, so you’re welcome to join me as I make myself something to eat.”

“Sounds like fun; what are we eating?”

“I don’t know yet,” You said as you stood up and made your way to the kitchen. You opened the pantry and looked. You noticed a can of diced tomatoes and reached for it then checked the expiration date. It was still good. On your counter were some onions and garlic. “How about some tomato soup?”

“Sounds delicious.” you smiled at Corpse and your phone screen not knowing if he was also looking at his screen or not. “You’re really pretty-- you know that?”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to--”

“I’ve already told you what an incredible artist you are so many times I bet you’re tired of hearing it, but you already know what a talented artist you are.”

“That is very kind of you Corpse,” you said to him bashfully as you chopped the onion and opened the can of tomatoes. “But once again you don’t have to reach so far to compliment me.”

“I’m not reaching you are talented and beautiful and--”

“I thought I was pretty.” You could hear him chuckle with a smile on his face. “You’re both,” he said. You could feel your face getting warm from blushing.

“Fuck you you’re making me blush. My face is all hot and stuff.”

He laughed at how flustered you got. “That’s the cutest thing ever.”

You didn’t know how to respond so you just put some olive oil in a pot and tossed in your onions. It became silent but it was a comfortable silence. You turned the stove on and watched the flame for a few seconds. “If it was dark we could pretend we were together and having a bonfire or something,” you said to the phone as you turned the camera to show him the flame (still not 100 percent sure if he was looking at you or not).

“I’ll put it on the list of things to do when you visit me someday.”

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband x y/n #youtubers #caffeinated ramblings

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

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The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it. To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth. But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me. What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them. A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen. What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining. Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance. You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me? I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee. Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.” (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence. The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way. And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty. To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

#the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #thealienist #the alienist fanfic #the alienist fanfiction

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hologramband · 3 years

Text

One Day p1

Alive!Luke x Fem!Reader Modern AU Word Count: 2.6k A/n: hehehe here’s the first part! I have it mostly planned out, there should be 3-4 parts! Lmk what you think! Summary: A shy girl is used to floating under the radar, keeping to herself most of the time, all was well until an opportunity fell into her lap, but what will these new people bring with them?

You were really good at staying right under everyone's radar at Los Feliz. You knew everyone, everyone knew you, but you didn’t have anything more than just a surface relationship with your classmates. You didn’t mind that, it was harder to get hurt this way. You got accepted to the Performing Arts High School with your ability to dance, but have always found your real talent lies within your visual art. Whether you were using paints, pencils, or a pen, you loved the way that your hand flew over the paper and created an image that represented your many different emotions.

In a way it made sense how you loved both dance and drawing, both sharing the flowing of movements to express things that words cannot. It was easier for you to express your emotions and thoughts in these mediums since social connection was hard for you. You had tried it once, really connecting with a person, but it ended up coming back and hurting you, causing you to shut down, so you weren't in a rush to try again any time soon. You floated down the hallways with ease, only having to stop at your locker to grab the remaining textbooks you need for the next few classes. While you were stopped you heard your name called from across the hallway, looking up to see Julie raising her hand in a small wave. “Hey, (y/n)! I like your top!” She came to a stop by your locker smiling. “Thanks! It was my moms, she just found this box of old clothes from when she was in school, this one just really stuck out to me.” You smiled down at yourself and looked back up at the girl to see three boys approaching. You felt heat subtly rise to your cheeks and you tried to focus your eyes on Julie. “Hey Jules, you ready to go to class?” Luke spoke as soon as they reached her side, sending you a nod of acknowledgement when he noticed you standing in front of them. Alex and Reggie both raised their hands with small waves in greeting to you. You smiled in return and turned back to close your locker, swinging your backpack on in the process. “Well, I gotta get to class too, see ya around.” You smiled back at the group and heard Julie call after you. “See you in Art!” You turned slightly and waved in return. Julie and you were pretty decent friends, you talked to her more than anyone else at the school, she had a good balance of how to get to know you without pushing you. You had met the boys a few times in passing, much like the previous occurrence, them not really speaking much more than a ‘hello’ here and there. There was something about Luke though, he never failed to send a storm of butterflies loose in your stomach. He probably didn’t even remember your name, but you could remember all the details of his face, not in a weird way, just in an artistic way, ya know? He had such a coolness about him, like he could totally embarrass himself but brush it off like it was nothing, like he meant to do it even. You thought you were getting better with your anxiety around people, but as soon as that boy was in front of you, it seemed as if your brain forgot how to function. You shook the boy from your thoughts as you continued through your day, classes went by like they typically do, all your general classes like math and english were in the first half of the day, the second half being taken by your dance class and then art. It was simple to say that you much preferred the second half of classes. In dance you went about as normal, running through a few routines and while wrapping up your teacher mentioned something about a new project that would be announced tomorrow. After changing you made your way to your final class where Julie had already arrived and claimed a table for the two of you. “Hi!” she smiled up at you. “Hi! How were your classes today?” You replied, starting a conversation that you hoped would carry throughout the class. You really did like talking with Julie, she was so sweet and really made you feel like she wanted to get to know you. The first day of class she noticed you were sitting alone and she took this as an opportunity to introduce herself, commenting on the particular band tee you had on, being able to strike up a conversation instantly. You admired her for this, the confidence she had when walking in a room was just astounding to you. The two of you went about the class in a way that you similarly would, talking about this and that while sketching away in your respective books, her only pausing to write ideas in her song notebook when an idea would hit. The class you were in didn’t have many actual assignments, just that you needed around 3 small pieces turned in periodically and one larger one for your final at the end of the semester, it made it an easy free flowing environment where there wasn’t too much pressure to stress on any one thing. Before you knew it the ding of the bell was going off overhead and you and Julie started packing up your things, she quickened her pace when she saw the boys waiting at the door for her. “You guys have practice today?” You giggled at her rushed movements. “Yeah,” she laughed as she zipped her bag closed, “Luke and I just finished up a new song too so I’m really excited to get back to the garage to figure out the music behind it.” She smiled up at you and you returned the affection. “Well don’t let me hold you up! Hope it all goes well! See you tomorrow!” You waved to the girl as she ran to the door, only pausing to throw a wave back at you. You laughed and shook your head at the girls' antics and went about your day as usual, starting your walk back home, you didn’t live too far and enjoyed the fresh air and time to recollect after the school day. After getting home you grabbed a quick snack and retreated to your room to finish a sketch that you had been working on in class today. Digging through your bag your heart rate increased when you pulled the red covered book to see the top covered in multiple stickers, this wasn’t your book, it was Julies song book, meaning she was currently in possession of your sketchbook. She must have grabbed yours on mistake when she was packing up quickly. You lightly sighed as you pulled out your phone to text her about the accidental switch-up. She replied instantly just realizing the mistake herself, then invited you over to switch them back and possibly hear some of the songs they were working on, looking for an outsider's opinion. You hesitated in saying yes, did you really need your book back that bad? Sighing, you sent back an okay and asked for an address, as nervous as you were to hang around the guys, more specifically Luke, you remembered how excited Julie was to go over the new song, the one that was probably sitting in the book you were holding in your hands. You threw on a light jacket and grabbed your backpack, for reasons unexplainable to you it just always just felt safer to walk around with a backpack on, and you were on your way to Julies. You could feel your nerves rising with each step you took towards her house, by the time you stood at the end of her driveway you felt like your heart was in your throat. “Calm down, (y/n), it’s just a little hangout to get your book back and hear a few songs, no biggie, nothing to fret about at all.” you whispered to yourself, taking one last deep breath before continuing your walk up her driveway. You had just come into view from the garage when you heard Julie calling out your name. “(Y/n)! How was your walk?” Julie ran out to meet you, now walking beside you into the garage. “It was good! You actually live closer to me than I thought, it was only like a 15 minute walk,” you smiled at her and you continued the small talk until you looked up and met eyes with the brunette guitarist. “(Y/n), these are the guys, Alex, Reggie and Luke,” she introduced them to you and you raised your hand in a wave. “Yeah, i’ve seen you guys perform before, you’re all really good!” you smiled and met each of their gazes. “Thanks! And that was all our old stuff, just wait until you hear what we have coming, um..” Luke stuttered realizing he didn’t know your name. You went to say it but Alex beat you to it. “(Y/n) you idiot,” he hit the back of Luke's head, while rolling his eyes. A blush rose to Luke’s face and he laughed it off. “I-I knew that, I-I just-” “You’re at the school for dance right?” Alex spoke again, interrupting and trying to take the attention off of the stuttering Luke. You smiled and nodded. “Yeah! I’m on a dance scholarship, so that's my main focus but my second is visual art, which reminds me,” You take your backpack off and pull out Julies song book, “here’s this!” She smiles and takes it from you. “Ugh thanks so much, I don’t know what I would have done if I lost this, Reggie can you grab her sketchbook? It’s on the piano!” Julie opened her book and smiled looking at the page. “Oh wow,” you heard Reggie mutter causing everyone to turn to him, “(y/n) this stuff is like, really good.” You blushed and looked down at your feet, you’ve never been good at accepting compliments. “Dude, boundaries!” Julie muttered reaching for the book, but Luke got to it first, taking his own turn looking through the pages. Your heart jumped when he started smiling at the pages he was flipping through, you didn’t have anything in there that you kept hidden, it was just that no one had ever gone through your work before. “You have so many different styles, this one is like a cartoon, but then the next one is like hyper realistic.” Luke looks up to make eye contact and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. Alex took the second of him being distracted to pull the book away from him and hand it back to you. “I’m sorry for them, they still haven’t figured out what it means to respect someone's privacy.” He narrowed his eyes at his two bandmates. “You know,” you opened the book in your hands to search for a particular page, “I actually have something of each of you individually. I sketched them out the night after I saw one of your guys’ gigs.” You scrunch your face in concentration, you feel everyone rush to stand behind you when you finally find it. You look around at them to take in their reactions, their eyes were all glued to the papers you were displaying in front of you, Reggies mouth falling open. “Oh! Is this why you asked for the pictures my dad took of that night?” Julie looked up at you. “Yeah, I wanted to be able to add the details of everyone's chosen instruments and get some added information on where the highlights were from the lights,” you looked at each of their faces again and made a rash decision to gently tear the pages from your book, handing them to each respective person. Each person held them gently in their hands, then looked up to you in amazement. You just shrugged your shoulders in response, not knowing what else to say. “Well,” you looked out the window and saw the setting sun, “I better start my walk back to my house, it’s getting dark and I wanna get back before that happens. Enjoy the pictures guys!” You smile and turn to walk away, all the band still shocked to silence. “She’s never torn a page from her book before,” you hear Julie tell the boys as you walk further down the driveway, smiling to yourself. It was true, you never pull pages from your sketchbook, not this one at least, it was the better quality of all the other ones you had. You typically just used the less expensive books for class, you go through all the pages so quickly you didn’t want to waste the one’s in your higher quality notebook for the rough sketches, but the pages that you drew the band on were in the higher quality notebook, you had taken the time to really get them right, and they turned out fantastic. Your mother had always told you to spread joy where you can, and after seeing all their faces you knew that it was only right to let them have the pages that they were looking at. You arrived home and couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, there might be something there with them, an opportunity to make new friends, to open up. This idea makes you both nervous and excited, you let these thoughts and ideas later lull you to sleep. --- The next day at school you were walking to your locker when Julie caught your eye, she was waiting in her phone by your locker door. You would usually see her in passing in the mornings, but this is new. “Hey Julie, what’s up?” You greet the curly haired girl at your locker. “Hey (y/n)! Not much really, just watched to catch you this morning and run an idea past you…” She smiles and looks around her before returning her gaze back to you. “Okay? Is everything alright? You seem nervous,” you giggled at her antics and went back to putting the combination into your locker. “Yeah, yeah, I just know you take a while to open up and get close with new people, and I don’t wanna rush you into anything you aren’t ready for, but the boys and I were wondering if-” She gets cut off by a yell from down the hallway. “JULIE! HAVE YOU ASKED HER YET?” You turn to see all three boys running towards you, Julie facepalming at Reggies yell. “Geez Reg, she literally just got here. There's no need to yell,” Julie rolls her eyes at them and looks back to you. “Anyways, we were wondering if you wanted to make more designs and stuff for the band, like for posters and maybe album art one day.” She smiles at you after finishing. “You-you want me to… really?” Your eyes widen in shock. “Yeah! We all really like what you did with those portraits, and you’re pretty chill letting us keep them and all, we want you to be a part of our band, even if it isn’t you on stage with us, you’ll keep things looking cool.” Luke says as he leans against the lockers beside you. “Plus, then you’ll be able to hang out with us more!” Reggie pipes in. They all look at each other then back at you. “So,” Alex smiles at you, “What do ya think?” A million thoughts fly through your mind at once, they really want you to hang out with them more? They liked what you did? You looked at them all, looking back at you, and smiled. “I’d love to.”

tag list ✨

@gia-kerks @fangirlangioma

#jatp #jatp imagine #jatp luke #jatp luke x reader #luke patterson #luke x reader #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #jatp luke patterson #jatp luke patterson imagine #jatp luke imagine #one day #luke patterson x fem!reader #mini series

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mister-supernova · 3 years

Text

If I Saw You on the Street

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader - Platonic Josie Saltzman x Reader

After Malivore

For as long as you could remember, summer vacation was your absolute favorite time of the year. To your surprise, it’s actually been a huge drag for you this year. It wasn’t like this was the worst summer ever--you could think of a few others that could take that spot--but there was definitely something off that you couldn’t piece together.

For instance, no one has any idea as to how Landon destroyed Malivore, not even Landon himself. That whole day seemed to be a huge blur to all of the students. You remembered the bigger events like the school defeating Triad, but everyone seems to struggle when it comes to the smaller details.

In order to keep yourself busy, you decided to stay at the school and take a summer job at the Mystic Grill. Besides the fact that everyone else was back home with their families, the whole school had this off-putting sense of emptiness. The place has magic in the walls for crying out loud, you usually feel some sense of liveliness.

There was this one room in particular that you felt strangely drawn to. You had no idea why since you knew that no one stayed in that room this past year. At least, no one you knew anyways.

One day out of pure curiosity, you picked the lock to that room to see what was special about it.

Just as you expected, it was just a regular empty dorm that was probably going to be taken up by a new student during the fall. It looked like every other bedroom at the school, but this one felt familiar.

Something that caught you off guard was the scent that faintly lingered in the room. The best way you could describe it was something floral with a hint of sweetness and spice--vanilla and cinnamon maybe--and it wasn’t like anything else you had smelled in the school before.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave for the longest time. The urge to stay and wander trumped over the obvious choice that was to walk away.

Something happened here, you thought.

A few small drops of pastel blue paint chips stained the wooden floorboards and you wondered how the hell they got there given the rooms have white walls.

Instead of questioning it any deeper, you just assumed that a student who had this room before must’ve gotten the paint on the floor and the janitors hadn’t noticed it.

But how could they have missed that?

You stood there for what felt like hours, trying to piece together what it was that made this place have this unexplainable affect on you. You could’ve stayed there for the rest of the day digging through your brain for an answer that would never come.

At the end of the day, you knew nothing would come to mind no matter how hard you tried. It was like the answer was at the tip of your tongue, but your mind was radio silent.

Frustrated and defeated, you had to force yourself to leave the strange room. After that, you made yourself forget about that place completely for the rest of the summer and refused to ever return to it.

Whenever you weren’t at work, you spent time with Landon, Josie, and a wolfed-out Rafael which was fine in the beginning. Dorian gave you permission to shift in the woods on full moons for the summer so that Raf could talk to somebody and you guys could possibly get information on how to help him.

He definitely appreciated the company that you could provide, but alas he had no idea on how he could be turned back.

The happier times were the nights you four had weekly movie nights by the Old Mill. You all would alternate who would pick the movie to watch and Landon absolutely hated that you chose a horror movie every single time, but you loved hearing the phoenix boy screech with terror. Josie would get a good kick out of it, too and you were positive that you’d see Raf wag his tail every time Landon screamed.

During those small moments, things felt like they could possibly get back to normal, but once you stepped foot back in the school, you were lost again.

Your thoughts were much louder through the night. It would get so bad that you could barely get any sleep and the times that you would, you’d wake up screaming from a night terror.

There was one night when you were tossing and turning, you knocked on Josie’s door to ask if she knew some kind of incantation to get you to fall asleep. You were up for anything at that point, even letting her swing a frying pan over your head to knock you out.

Not wanting to hurt you or possibly kill you, Josie made you some sleepytime tea instead which actually helped a lot. It didn’t help so much with the vivid dreams you’ve been having, but you thought that it was better than getting no sleep at all.

Everything felt like it was going decently well until Raf decided to bow out once Josie and Landon started getting close. You wanted to curse at him for making you the third wheel, but you understood that he couldn’t wait here forever for some solution that could help him become human again. He had to move on somehow, especially seeing that his best friend seemed to be moving on, too.

Regardless, you started feeling awkward hanging out with just the two of them. They wanted to include you during their weekly movie nights, but you’d just make up some excuse that you had to be up early for work the next morning.

Landon--damn him for knowing your work schedule--could tell that you were bullshitting, but he didn’t want to force you into doing something you didn’t want to do.

You tried busying yourself with other activities like running through the woods, canoeing in the lake, taking extra shifts at work, binge eating all the good snacks in the kitchen; you even got yourself into drawing and painting for some weird reason, but no matter what you did, there was still something missing.

Towards the end of the summer, you didn’t feel like your usual jokester self. Sure, you’d throw out a line of sarcasm or make a witty comment here and there, but most of it would sound forced. You’d mainly do it so that Josie and Landon wouldn’t worry about you so much, but Josie quickly picked up on your facade.

They really wanted to help you figure out what was making you feel this way, but as much as you appreciate their help, there was nothing they could do. How could they figure out what was wrong if you didn’t even know for yourself?

One day after your shift at work, you decided to do something you never in your wildest dreams thought you would ever do.

You started cleaning your room.

Josie volunteered to help even though you assured her you’d be fine doing it alone. She bribed you by saying she’d buy you a milkshake if you let her help, so without another word, you agreed to let her stay and assist.

“Gosh, do you throw out any of your old assignments?” Josie asks as she rummages through your desk drawers, “This is an algebra one paper from three years ago, Y/n,” she says, flashing your old homework assignment with a huge F circled in the front.

“Hey, less judging and more cleaning.” You say, digging through your dresser for clothes you don’t wear anymore.

“Did you try writing a reminder for a history test or something?”

You furrow your eyebrows before turning to look at Jo, “What do you mean?”

“You have this post-it note that says “Don’t forget H”, but that’s all that’s written,” she holds up the note and from the other side of your bed, you read exactly what she had said.

It definitely looked like you tried scribbling another letter after the H, but it ended up being a long messy squiggle, “Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug, “Probably. I must’ve been half asleep when I wrote it though because I have no clue when I did that.”

Josie puffs her lip out in confusion, “Well. I would be surprised by that, but judging by the ten cans of energy drinks I just tossed out, it’s not so surprising to hear that your memory is a little fuzzy.”

You drop your jaw in shock, “Is today Judge Y/n Day and I wasn’t made aware of it? You asked to help clean my room Jo, now save your judgments for another day please.”

Josie playfully rolls her eyes at you, followed by a small chuckle, “Toss?” She asks, ready to crumple the piece of paper up. You take a second to answer back, wondering whether or not if you did forget some history assignment or maybe something even bigger than that.

“Sure,” you feel your stomach churn seeing her throw the note in the trash bag, but there was no taking it back now.

Another few minutes of silence pass until Josie speaks up, “Since when do you draw?”

You look back up from your clothes to see Jo now holding up a sketchbook you snagged at the lost and found a few weeks ago. It was brand new and untouched, so you thought to yourself “why not?”.

After explaining that to Josie, she flipped through some of the first few pages. You were no Leonardo DiCaprio--or whatever that painter guy’s name was--but you thought you were decent with your sketches.

“These are really good, Y/n. Did you just think of these by yourself?” She asks, talking about the drawings you had of a girl you’ve been seeing in your dreams.

You could only see parts of the girl’s face. Mostly you’ve only been able to clearly see features like her eyes and hair, so most of the pages were taken up by a pair of blue eyes and waves of auburn hair.

“Not really. I’ve been having these really vivid dreams lately.” You tell Josie.

“This is who you see?” She looks down at the pages again, “Who is that? She doesn't look like anyone we know.”

“Yeah, I don’t know either. She’s all I’ve been seeing, though.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve found yourself a hidden talent.” Josie smiles, gently setting the book back down on the desk, “And maybe she’s your soulmate,” she teases.

You just roll your eyes with a small smile and get back to your tasks.

Like a girl that beautiful could even exist let alone talk to me, you think to yourself.

As you continue sorting through your clothes, you notice a pair of sweats that look almost smaller than half your size.

“Uh, Jo?” She turns to your attention, “These aren’t yours, are they?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “How short do you think I am? I think my legs are a little longer than whoever those are.”

“Well, they’re not mine, obviously. How’d they get into my drawer?”

“Maybe they belonged to whoever lived in this dorm before you?” Josie shrugs.

“But the dresser was completely empty when I moved in,” you think for a moment, now questioning everything, “At least, I thought it was. I would think that I would’ve taken these out if they were here. Why would I keep a pair of sweatpants that I don’t fit in?”

“You do a lot of questionable things, you know. Like that one time you jumped through a bonfire wondering how hot it really was or when you tried to do a backflip off the roof of the school and into the pool or the time you “drank” a beer through your-”

You raise your hands in surrender and cut her off before she could finish, “Okay, I get it! I do stupid shit. The sweatpants belonged to whoever lived in here before I moved in and I didn’t take them out of the drawer. Case closed. Swiftly moving on.”

You were positive they weren’t there when you moved in, but there weren’t any other reasons you could think of as to how they got into your dresser.

Seconds before you tossed it back into the bottom of your drawer, your nose barely caught the same sweet and spicy floral scent that you recalled smelling in the strange room. Breathing it in again brought back that memory of being mentally lost in that room, but oddly enough this time it made you feel calm.

After another hour passed you and Josie ended up filling three bags of trash, one of them recycled trash, and one large donation box of clothes.

You didn’t waste any time reminding her that she owed you a milkshake. She kind of hoped that you would’ve forgotten about your deal, but she was a woman of her word.

You made a “compromise” to take your box of clothes over to the donating center on the other side of the town square while Josie bought the milkshakes.

Your task was a lot quicker than Josie’s since it was pretty much rush hour at the Grill right now, so you waited for her on one of the benches in the square.

Sitting by yourself with nothing else to do but wait, you couldn’t help but feel that empty feeling return. The emptiness never hit you all at once, but it definitely drained the hell out of you.

Again, you felt stumped. Like there’s somewhere you should be or something you should be doing or someone you should be with. You knew Josie was going to be back any minute, but that wasn’t what was missing.

You anxiously looked toward the Mystic Grill, feeling your breaths becoming more and more shallow as every second passes. You started wishing Josie would walk out so that all your worries could just go away.

Then--almost like you knew right where to look--your gaze stopped when you noticed someone looking at you from where you just came from on the other side of the town square.

You couldn’t make out her facial features from so far away, but it was the auburn color of her hair that stuck out to you more than anything. For a moment--and just for a moment--all the weight that had been weighing on your shoulders this summer felt much lighter and everything felt okay again.

“One cookies and cream milkshake,” Josie’s voice startles you and you face her abruptly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she chuckles, lending you your milkshake.

“No, you’re good. I was just…” you look back to the spot you saw the girl only to find that she was gone, “I was just lost in thought.”

You had no idea what just happened or how you seemed to have possibly seen the girl from your dreams, but just a glimpse of her made you feel more emotions than you have all summer long. Because of that, a huge part of you hoped that you would see her again.

heyyyyyy beautiful people! thanks for over 100 likes on This Isn’t Goodbye you guys gals and nb pals! i’m super super happy that you’ve been enjoying this series so far! still have no idea how many more parts this will be just yet lol but i really appreciate every one of you for the love <3

*also the title was inspired by the song Dreams Tonite by Alvvays in case you were curious ;)*

taglist: @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch @sodangtired

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #hope mikaelson imagine #legacies imagine #legacies x reader #legacies cw #legacies

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writtenonreceipts · 3 years

Text

A Throne of Glass Fanfiction. Rowaelin.

8k words later and everything hurts. I just kept writing and writing because I couldn’t make up my mind on what I wanted to happen or how to end it so here we are...part four? i seriously don’t know if i can or should fix it at this point, hahaha...ha. ha?

Warnings: angst. it hurts.

Based on a prompt I received here and you can find part two is here

PART 3

December 18th

“How are you today, Aelin?”

The was, without a doubt, her least favorite question.

Picking at her nails, Aelin shook her head. There was so much to say and most of it wasn’t significant. Did she talk about how she hasn’t had a decent night's sleep in over a month? Or how she couldn’t concentrate at work for more than ten minutes? Or maybe she could talk about the fact that her best friend and cousin were getting married and she was asked to play the piano as Lysandra walked down the aisle.

“I’m fine,” she said as she looked up.

Across the room Yrene didn’t look convinced. Her curly brown hair framed her lovely features and accented the golden-brown light of her eyes. She was a beautiful woman and Aelin had to wonder why she didn’t have a ring on her finger. She was obviously successful, kind, attractive, and when Aelin wasn’t being stubborn—easy to talk to.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you may as well leave now,” Yrene said. She leaned back in her seat and clicked her pen as she watched Aelin.

Sighing, Aelin ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how I am.”

“You don’t want to be here, we can start with that,” Yrene suggested. She smiled knowingly and Aelin rolled her eyes.

“I don’t want to be here because I know it’s a waste of time,” Aeline said.

“But you came anyways. Why?”

“It’s what everyone expects of me,” Aelin said with a shrug. “So, I may as well get it over with.”

“So, you don’t think anything is wrong?” Yrene pressed. “There’s nothing keeping you up at night? Your tapping foot is just a random occurrence?”

Aelin’s foot stopped. She pursed her lips and glared at Yrene who smiled serenly.

“When we are in uncomfortable situations we have tells, unconscious ticks,” Yrene explained. “I’m not trying to intimidate you; I hope you know you can be honest with me.”

Intimidate. Yrene was not intimidating. Not really. Aelin just didn’t want to spill her problems out like this. Not now.

“Why, despite everything, did you come today?” Yrene asked.

There’s no point lying. Not when Yrene can point it out so easily. Not when she doesn’t get much satisfaction out of it anyways.

“If I didn’t come, I would have had to go into a work meeting,” Aelin said, “and Sam would have been there. And after that stupid party—I just can’t be around him right now.”

“Why do you think that is?” Yrene prods. “Are you embarrassed by what he may have seen with you and your friends? That was the first time he really met any of them, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I mean, we only got together a few months ago after I left,” Aelin replied, her foot began tapping again and she adjusted the bracelets on her wrist. “But why should I be embarrassed by him? He treats me well; he cares about me. But it was my first time seeing everyone in so long and I didn’t think he would have come.”

“You didn’t want him to meet everyone.” Yrene’s words were innocent as they tried to make sense of Aelin’s rambling. For which Aelin was grateful, at least one of them knew what was going on. And yet...and yet they sent a chill through Aelin’s body.

“I didn’t want him to meet everyone,” Aelin agreed. She met Yrene’s eyes. “Because as soon as he did everyone would try and assume that I was fine. And dammit, fine is the farthest from what I am feeling.”

When she started therapy, Aelin had been back in Terrasen for all of twenty-four hours. November twentieth was her first session with a woman who had a private practice and a website that declared her specialties lied in healing from trauma and working through anxiety and depression. It was a simple profile. One that Aelin wasn’t sure why she went for it, but in a spurt of desperation she’d made an appointment.

Almost a month later and at times, bi-weekly appointments, Aelin didn’t know if she were any better off than when she first stepped off the plane from Paris.

Sitting in her office near the end of the workday, Aelin scrolled through social media on her phone. She really had to stop doing so, but staring at a computer screen full of fashion sketches or marketing reports was not appealing. She unfortunately stumbled across a post Fenrys made not twenty minutes ago.

It was a simple picture of him, Lorcan, Conall, and Rowan. Each dressed in a suit and tie. Each handsome in his own right. Of course, Aelin’s eyes lingered on Rowan. Of course, she couldn’t help but imagine what he had done with himself over the past year. Of course, she knew it was stupid of her to do so.

Landed an epic deal in Wendlyn! Got the best team around.

Aelin was surprised to see Fenrys had managed not to cure on the page, even if it was a work-related post. Just as she was surprised that he had kept his innocuous verbage kept simple using only one “epic” and not a single “dude” or “rad.”

The knock on Aelin’s door had her looking up and she found Sam staring in at her. He had a handsome smile and his bright eyes watched her with interest.

“Hey,” he said, “you almost done here?”

Aelin glanced at her screen where numbers and approvals still needed to be inputted. She was a terrible person. How the hell had she been selected to go to Italy, let alone Paris, for those work assignments?

“Chock it up to the Monday brain, but I’m going to need to make it a late day,” she said regretfully.

Sam frowned and Aelin knew he could see right through her. At least mostly. He might not have seen everything going on in her mind, but he knew her enough to take an educated guess.

“Let me order take out and I can stay and help you,” he offered.

An unexplainable stab of emotion filled Aelin as she looked up at him. He was too good to her. Too good for her.

“I thought you had plans,” she said after she was able to school herself.

Sam smiled sheepishly. “Just with your cousin and Dorian. They invited me out for drinks.”

I didn’t want for him to meet everyone.

Just as soon as she’d swallowed down her emotions, the panic began to rise again. Hell.

“Go.” She said. The response surprised her. It was the absolute last thing she wanted to say but the simple word slipped her lips before she could stop it. “Go. I’ll be fine. It’s not much anyways.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” she lied.

And because Sam was too good, he couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t see the subtle shake of her foot or the way she adjusted the bracelets on her wrist.

Instead he crossed her office and leaned over the desk to kiss her. Slow and languid. He pulled back much too soon.

“I’ll call you later, yeah?” he said with a heart wrenching smile on his face.

“Yeah,” she replied and watched him go.

It wasn’t long before five o’clock rolled around and he stopped by again to make sure she was fine working late by herself. After she convinced him to leave, she waited. She waited until the last of the interns and admins left before she pulled out her phone and made a call.

They picked up on the second ring.

“I’m going to send you an address,” Aelin said, “can you bring a few things and meet me there in an hour?”

“I thought I was mortal enemy number one on your hit list.”

Chaol Westfold. Tall, muscular, handsome, and an ass.

“Did you bring the cake?” Aelin asked.

He hefted a plastic bag up. “And the beer.”

“Then congratulations,” Aelin replied, “you are now welcomed back into the fold of friendship.”

Chaol looked as though that were the last thing he wanted, but he entered her office and shut the door behind. He muttered under his breath about this not ever happening again as he unloaded the cake and beer.

Aelin immediately went for the cake. Chocolate hazelnut with a creamy frosting. It was the first thing she ate after getting back from Paris. It had to be the best creation in the world. She grabbed a plastic fork from one of the drawers in her desk and immediately dug in.

“Are we going to talk or am I just your cake supplier now?” Chaol asked.

Reluctantly, Aelin dug another fork out of her desk and tossed it to him. He accepted, but he didn’t eat.

Aelin licked a blob or frosting from her fork. “Do you know why we broke up?”

“We lied to each other about everything,” Chaol answered. Slowly, he scrapped a bit of frosting on his fork. He contemplated his next words before continuing. “And we never talked about it either.”

“Right,” Aelin said, nodding. “Do you ever regret breaking up?”

That was the question that drove Chaol to a real bite of the cake and Aelin had to smother a laugh watching the sight. Chaol never ate cake or chocolate or anything that wasn’t specifically for keeping in excellent shape. So the sight of him actually enjoying eating the cake was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

“Of course I do,” Chaol said. “At least, I regret how we broke up. You’re the first woman I ever loved, Aelin. The first one who really...I don’t know taught me how to live.”

She shook her head. “Nah. I dragged you around into trouble.”

They sat in silence as they ate the cake. Aelin ate far more than her share.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Chaol asked. “Or tell me how the hell you still have my number?”

She grinned viciously. “I had to keep you in my contacts in case I needed someone to frame for murder. And you were just the asshat to fit the bill. Until you brought me cake.”

He rolled his eyes at her and cracked open a beer. “Why am I not surprised?”

Cackling, Aelin stuffed her face with more cake. She knew that she couldn’t ignore his original question for long. There was a reason she had called him and only him. Maybe this was something she should have talked to Lysandra about. Or even Yrene. But there was something about her friendship with Chaol that no one else could fill.

“Rowan cheated on me,” Aelin finally said. Chaol nearly choked on his beer. She grabbed a few spare napkins to toss at him before continuing. “That’s why I went to Europe. I had to get away.

Chaol sat quietly as she continued. She told him everything about the fight she had with Rowan, returning to his apartment, hearing what he did. She told him about leaving. About Sam. About the party.

“He said he still loves me,” Aelin finished. “But if he does, if he ever did then why did he do what he did?”

It was a lot to put on Chaol. He’d never cheated on her. But he’d lied about various things. She’d lied too of course, but they’d been fresh out of high school trying to live their lives. She’d certainly loved him enough to have sex with him for her first time.

And then they’d drifted further and further apart. To the point that Aelin never knew who she was when she was with him. It was unfortunate really because his friendship had helped her through the hellish years of high school and on into that first year of college. And then it was gone.

“Have you talked to him?” Chaol asked. It was an innocent enough question, but Aelin could see the rise of his brow and knowing glint in his eyes.

Aelin sighed dramatically. "You should meet my therapist. All the two of you want me to do is talk."

"Aelin," Chaol said, his voice growing just a tick more serious.

"What is there to talk to him about?" Aelin stabbed at the cake, suddenly feeling ill which was far too disconcerting. "I know how I feel on the matter. So does he."

Chaol grunted unconvinced. "I doubt that."

She stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed the second beer he brought and settled in to mock him endlessly.

December 19th

"It's seven in the morning." Yrene frowned as Aelin pushed herself into the office.

"And yet you're already here," Aelin said.

She hadn't slept the night before. Not really even after talking to Sam who's had a riotous night with Aedion and Dorian. And all she could about was her conversation with Chaol.

"To get ready for the rest of my appointments," Yrene said slowly, still watching Aelin with obvious confusion.

Settling down on the couch, Aelin looked up at Yrene. "Why do I still love him?"

Yrene pursed her lips and shut the office door before crossing to her own chair. She said nothing and simply waited for Aelin to continue.

"I mean, he hurt me, betrayed what I thought we had together, what we could have had together...and all he can say is I don't know what happened. Am I that replaceable to him?"

Yrene continued looking at her, quiet. But she had opened up her notebook and began taking notes on what Aelin was saying.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Aelin added, “and I have not talked to him yet. I don’t think I can.”

Silence stretched through the room and Yrene clicked her pen as she stared at Aelin. The latter woman staunchly avoided looking up from her nails. It wasn’t until Aelin’s phone buzzed with an incoming text that she sighed heavily.

“Where do you feel safe, Aelin?” Yrene asked suddenly. She leaned forward in her chair and fixed Aelin with a long look. “Where do you feel like you are in control and confident?”

Aelin made a face and shrugged. She’d never really thought about that before. “Serious answer? There’s this dumpy little apartment that the company rents out for storage. I go there when I need to get away. Or the coffee shop down on Fifth. A friend I met in Paris has family that owns it.”

“Okay,” Yrene said with a slow nod. “If, and only if, you feel comfortable I think you need to talk to Rowan. You deserve closure on what happened.”

“You really don’t like me, do you?” Aelin asked.

Yrene smiled. “I really think you deserve more than what you are allowing yourself to have.”

Glancing at her phone Aelin sighed. “I need to get to work. Let me know how much I owe you for this.”

Yrene assured her that she would and Aelin slipped out of the office.

By the time she made it outside, a light snow began to fall. The thick white flakes assaulted her and clung to her hair and coat. Aelin muttered a curse. She really did not miss the snow. Nothing about it. Not the cold, the ice, the distinct scent of pine that always seemed to come when the chill did.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Aelin hurried down the walk towards her work building. Thankfully Yrene’s office was close to her own so Aelin was usually never late for work or gone long when she had her appointments during lunch.

She texted Sam and he met her in the lobby of their work building, coffee in hand.

“Hey babe,” he greeted with a kiss to her cheek.

Aelin smiled warmly and accepted her coffee, grateful to the immediate warmth that spread through her fingers.

“Thanks,” she said. She leaned into his side as they made their way to the elevators. “You have fun with the guys last night?”

“They’re great,” Sam agreed. When he glanced down at her a strange expression flashed on his face.

“What?” Aelin asked. “Dorian didn’t shove you into a rose bush, did he?”

Frowning, Sam shook his head. “No?”

“Never mind,” Aelin said quickly. “He just does that sometimes.”

Sam still looked utterly confused and it was such an endearing look that Aelin rose on her toes to press a quick kiss to his jaw.

“They just mentioned something,” Sam began slowly, “it’s just, ah, they mentioned Rowan.”

Aelin nearly choked on her coffee. Sputtering, she covered her mouth. “Rowan? Why the hell would they?”

“It’s nothing,” Sam said quickly, “he was at the bar and they—I don’t even know what it was about. It’s not a big deal.”

Aelin didn’t have a chance to say anything as the elevator opened on their floor and a group of interns was already waiting for Sam to sign off on orders and marketing issues.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Sam called over his shoulder as he hurried off towards his office.

Aelin could only wave weakly as he disappeared. Sometimes she wished she’d thought through starting a relationship with him a little better. But after everything that happened with Rowan...Sam had been something new. And she’d believed that something knew was just what she needed.

It didn’t help that sometimes Aelin could still feel Rowan’s hands on her, his lips ghosting hers. She could still feel the rumble of his laugh when they spent late nights together and woke up early.

Her stomach churned with acid. The coffee was not sitting well in her empty belly. At least she still had chocolate cake hidden in her office from her chat with Chaol.

But Aelin certainly didn’t want to feel this way. Not anymore, not when she had been trying so hard to move on with her life.

So as soon as she got into her office, she pulled out her phone and sent a text.

Rowan without a doubt hated himself.

He had for a long time and without a doubt fully deserved it. So when he got a text from Aelin he promptly threw up in the nearest trash can of the office break room.

Fenrys laughed at him, absolutely pleased with how the morning was going. Over the passed year they’d been working together, diving into a business management system to help companies and the likes from going bankrupt. The only reason it was going so well was because Rowan did nothing else but work.

"Dude, did you get wasted on a weekday again?"

Rowan flipped him off and grabbed a cup to fill with water. He took a long drink before he glares at his friend.

"Aelin texted me," he said, "she wants to meet for coffee later. To talk."

"And your first response was to vomit?" Fenrys asked, brow quirked.

"Yes," Rowan affirmed.

"If you're looking for sympathy, you're not finding it from me," Fenrys said. He pulled a soda from the fridge and cracked it open, "I'm a sucker for Aelin and would choose her over you any day."

Rowan scowled. "Thanks man,"

"Anytime," Fenrys said. He ripped an invisible hat as he left the break room.

Rowan scrubbed a hand over his face. He knew that Fenrys was right. It was a miracle he'd even managed to hold onto any of his friends. For some reason, they’d all stayed with him. For the most part. Elide and Lysandra were the exceptions. Neither of them, no matter the situation, even bothered to look at him.

One year.

He didn’t blame them.

So now Rowan had the chance to meet with Aelin and, hopefully, talk to her. If she yelled that was fine. If she threw things at him that was fine too. As long as he got the chance to be around her at least once more.

Oh hell he actually had to talk to her didn’t he?

It was going to be an impossibly long day full of Rowan hating himself and coming to terms with the fat that Aelin was going to kill him.

And despite the fact that he’d had a year to prepare for this, Rowan couldn’t have been further from being ready. In all honesty all the scenarios he’d come up with in the last year had not prepared him for this in the slightest.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Rowan barely got anything done throughout the day. Every time he would start on something his mind would begin to wander and he’d find himself on Aelin’s social media pages. Which consequently would make things worse.

Photo after photo were of her and Sam. Italy, Paris, white beaches, and blue waters. She was a goddess in each and every picture. And the smile in each picture, Rowan had to remind himself, weren’t meant for him but for another man. A man who knew how not to screw up the greatest thing in his life.

As he left his office, Rowan took care to avoid running into Fenrys, Lorcan, or any of the others. He knew full well that Fenrys wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut and Rowan wasn’t in the mood for dealing with anyone else telling him he was an idiot. Even Lorcan had avoided talking to him for several months after the incident. Lorcan whose least favorite person was Aelin.

Granted Lorcan was a better man than he was on so many levels.

Brown shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he headed down the street towards the coffee shop Aelin had indicated. It was a small place Rowan had passed by several times but had never bothered to go in. The shop was small and had such a niche ambiance that Rowan never felt like he could go in.

Now as he entered the small space with its rich scents of chai and chocolate, Rowan’s concerns were confirmed.

A woman with chin length black hair and warm, bronze skin greeted him from behind the counter. As Rowan glanced over the menu, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Aelin chose this place. Half the menu was devoted to pastries.

“He wants a black coffee, Nesryn,” a soft voice said from behind him.

Rowan winced and turned to where Aelin sat at a small table tucked into a corner. She already had a large slice of cake in front of her.

Nesryn fixed Rowan with a glare and nodded while muttering under her breath in French. He had no doubts that she knew exactly who he was. Death was most certainly in his future.

Rowan waited until his coffee was finished and paid for--a generous tip added to the jar on the counter—before he joined Aelin.

He didn’t know what to do other than pull the other chair out from the table and take a seat across from her. They sat in silence like that for a long time. Aelin slowly ate her slice of cake and sipped on her own drink. Rowan was startled to see that it was a cup of tea instead of her standard double shot of espresso with hemp milk and cinnamon.

“You wanted to talk before,” Aelin said slowly. It had barely been three days since that party and she couldn’t believe that she had actually let herself meet with him so soon after being staunchly against it. She kind of hated herself for it, but she would deal with that later. “So let’s talk.”

She still didn’t look him directly in the eye. Rowan could see creases in her makeup lining on her eyelids. Her lipstick had long since worn off and he could tell she’d been chewing on her lips like always. A habit that even a year hadn’t taken away. She was still beautiful of course.

“I’m sorry, Rowan said immediately.

Aelin flinched at his words and dragged her teeth over her fork as she scraped as much frosting off the tines as possible.

“And,” Rowan continued, “I can’t...I’ve never forgiven myself for what I put you through.”

Soft classical music played overhead. It reminded Rowan so much of what Aelin liked playing--the gentle folds of notes blending together until they reached a crescendo of sound, of feeling. And then slowly fading bad into those gentle folds.

It wasn’t until a new track started that Rowan continued. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but given with what he did he wasn’t entirely sure what good any of his words would do. Perhaps they would at least help him move on. Maybe.

“I never wanted any of this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you.” Rowan stared at his coffee. His words sounded hollow to his own ears and he couldn’t imagine how Aelin was handling his ramblings. “It just seemed for the longest time we were never on the same page. Nothing was changing and we...we were barely treading water together.”

Aelin pushed the plate of cake away and crossed her arms over her chest. Rowan could feel her eyes digging into him but he was too much a coward to look up and meet that gaze.

“So you left,” Aelin said. “Instead of waiting and trying to make our relationship work, you ran.”

“I’ve regretted it every day,” Rowan whispered.

Music continued to play overhead and a few people trickled in to order drinks or dessert. No one lingered long however, despite the empty tables, the warmth as compared to the outside. In and out. In and out, the customers drifted.

Aelin’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the message and sighed. Barely sparing him a look, she stood grabbing her coat and pulled it on.

“I need to go,” she murmured.

Finally, Rowan glanced up at her. Her eyes were rimmed red, yet she hadn’t shed any tears. Instead the sorrow on her face turned fierce.

“Aelin,” Rowan began, he started to rise, but Aelin held a hand up.

“My boyfriend needs me,” she said. And then she spun on her heel and left the little shop.

Rowan stood next to that little table in the back corner of that shop and watched her go. He watched through the front window until she crossed the street and disappeared around the corner.

He would never get over the idea of her walking away.

Sam was waiting for her in the kitchen of her apartment. He smiled brightly as he looked up from the stove. He was making something that smelled like spices, and warmth, and home.

"Alright, so this is something my mom used to make around Christmas," Sam said. He had a twinkle in his eyes and a dopey sort of grin on his face. "And I know you've had a long week."

Aelin can't help but smile gratefully. She hangs her coat up on the hook beside the door and drops her purse on the small side table there too.

"It smells wonderful," she said. Coming into the kitchen she took a seat at the counter so she could watch Sam as he chopped vegetables and slowly stirred the pot. From what she could tell is was a stew of some sort.

"How was your day?" He asked. As if he didn't know. She'd told him that she was going to meet with Rowan, and while he might not have known what had transpired in that relationship, he'd known something. And especially after the conversation she’d had with Chaol, Aelin knew she had to open the doors of communication and honesty.

And it sucked.

“It’s better now,” she said.

He smiled softly and poured her a glass of wine. It was different from what she usually drank but she was just grateful he was even here that he’d stayed.

When they first got together almost six months ago it had been something haphazard. Slow but quick. Random but natural. And after everything with Rowan...Sam had helped her pull herself together.

It had been something she’d never thought possible. She’d thought that Rowan was her soulmate. That he would always and forever be her person.

As she sipped her drink, Aelin watched Sam work. He talked endlessly about winter nights where he’d helped his mother with cooking dinner for the family. The stew had been his favorite comfort food and thus figured it would be something she might enjoy.

And then he told horrible stories of other occasions where he’d burned dinner too.

Aelin cackled at the idea of him setting off the smoke alarm and having to wave a towel around like a madman.

“I swear I was banned from the kitchen for a full month after that,” Sam laughed. He set the table, simple settings of Aelin’s mismatched bowls and cutlery.

“Well you can’t do anything worse than what I could do,” Aelin said.

Grinning, Sam pressed kiss to her forehead and took a seat next to her.

Through the meal, Aelin was able to press everything else about her day away. She could forget Rowan. She could forget the past year. She could see herself changing.

Maybe it was that notion that caused her to lose her appetite.

“So, what prompted you to make me dinner,” she asked, pushing her half-eaten bowl away. “Your text sounded off.”

Sam shrugged halfheartedly. He’d removed his tie long ago and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. He looked so relaxed and at ease that the slight pang of panic Aelin had felt just moments ago returned full force.

“I’ve just been thinking about you,” he said honestly. He smiled again in that same delightfully silly way that he had.

Aelin knew that wasn’t all that was on his mind. She rolled her eyes and kicked him beneath the table. “And?”

He opened and closed his mouth before taking a large bite of stew to get out of answering.

Aelin stuck her tongue out at him and rose to get a start of dishes.

“Nope,” Sam said, he snatched a hand out and grabbed her wrist. He swallowed his bite of food and shook his head. “You have no responsibilities tonight.”

“Oh?” Aelin arched a brow. “None at all?”

Sam shook his head.

“Then why the hell am I not in my pajamas yet?”

Aelin ran her fingers through his hair and hurried off to her room, more than ready to be out of her work clothes. And, in all honesty, needing to get away for a breath.

There was something about the way that Sam looked at her just now. Something about how he’d been acting recently. It wasn’t anything bad, but it was enough to make Aelin’s breath catch, her pulse race. There was something about him. The man.

She’d never really noticed it before. Not in all the time that she’d been dating Rowan. But when she and Sam had been in in Paris working on the extended project together. She’d seen in then. There was compassion and honor written all along the threads that made Sam who he was. And now...now those threads were becoming more and more noticeable.

By the time Aelin had changed, Sam was already started on the dishes. He topped her wine off and allowed her to help him dry what wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher.

“Aelin,” Sam said after they’d started the dishwasher and left the last few items out to dry.

“Hm?” Aelin hummed taking a long sip of wine.

Sam stepped closer, placing his hands on her waist. He was trim, lean, and obviously in good shape, but not bulky or broad like other men. It didn’t deter Aelin’s attraction to him though.

She leaned into him, willing herself to play on those subtle emotions building in her body.

Sam pressed a kiss to each corner of her mouth before hovering just before her--waiting to give her a longer more meaningful kiss.

He’d been patient with her the last six months. Never pressuring her into sex or anything more intimate than she was ready for. And Aelin would be forever grateful to him for it. But she also couldn’t help but wonder how long that patience would last.

As Rowan had shown, men had their limits.

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut. She would not focus on him. Not now. So she closed the distance between her and Sam and kissed him. It was somewhat sloppy as he’d not been expecting her to move so suddenly, but Sam was quick to recover.

She could most certainly get used to him. Every little thing about him.

“I love you,” Sam said. So carefully his lips moved against hers as they sounded out the words.

I love you.

Aelin’s hands froze at the lower buttons of his shirt. She’d gotten a little out of hand, not that she was too sorry. But his words just reminded her what was really happening.

She opened her eyes and stared into his golden gaze. Her throat constricted as she found herself pulling him closer, closer.

“You love me?” she whispered.

Sam nodded once, firm and definite.

Aelin felt her breath slip out too quickly from her lungs as she kissed Sam again.

December 20th

It was ten o’clock the next evening when Aelin was knocking at the door. Someone swore behind it and Yrene answered. She was still dressing for the day, still wearing makeup. Still holding her case notes in one hand.

"I'm going have to start charging you extra if you keep showing up like this," the woman said. But she let Aelin into the office all the same.

"Fine by me," Aelin replied.

The office was dimly lit by a single lamp and a pile of take out containers from an Indian restaurant took over the table.

"So do you live here or what?" Aelin asked. She turned a lifted a brow at Yrene.

Snorting, Yrene ignored Aelin and crossed to the chair she usually took over and sat down.

"What are we talking about tonight, Aelin?" Yrene asked.

Why was she here? Aelin had no idea. She just knew she didn't want to go home. If she went home, she knew Sam would be there because he was too good for her. He was planning on a late night of hot chocolate and cheesy Christmas movies. And Aelin should want to be there. But she was the idiot who went out for coffee with her ass of an ex. An even bigger ass than Chaol had been.

"I talked to him," Aelin said. "At least I listened to him."

"And? Do you feel better?"

"No." Aelin answered immediately. “Because my current boyfriend who is the best man I could ask for after the hellhole that is Rowan Whitethorn. My current boyfriend told me he loves me. And what do I do but give him a kiss and tell him thanks. He barely left my place half an hour ago before I came here.”

Yrene gave her a bland look. “Don’t you have friends for this? This is girl talk Aelin.”

Aelin cursed and pushed herself off the couch. She stood there for several long moments. “Why can’t I love him? I want to. Dammit, I want to. But, I just…”

“What?” Yrene prompted softly when Aelin didn’t continue. “But what, Aelin?”

“But what if it happens again?” Aelin asked. She looked at Yrene and shook her head. “I thought I could trust Rowan and then he cheated on me. I think I can trust Sam. But I just can’t go through it all again.”

Neither of them spoke as Yrene makes a note in her little booklet. She lets Aelin stand there breathing heavily and collect her thoughts.

But Aelin isn’t thinking much aside from being angry. Angry at Rowan especially.

“He had no right to tell me he still loves me,” Aelin said suddenly. “If he’d really wanted to talk why would he do that to me? Why would he put me in that position?”

“Would you have listened any other way?” Yrene asked. Aelin shot her an angry look and Yrene held up a finger. “All I’m saying is that he might not even know how to deal with it all either. Have either of you moved on?”

“I’m trying,” Aelin whispered.

“And I am so proud of you for that,” Yrene said with so much conviction that Aelin felt tears prick her eyes. “But I also want you to consider what else might be holding you back. You talked to Rowan; you made that step. What else can you do? Do you think you could—”

Yrene cut herself off and frowned. Aelin watched her have an internal battle.

Finally, Yrene shook her head. “Do you think you could forgive him?”

Aelin cursed and stalked to the office door, closing it with a loud snap.

December 23rd

Rowan decided that he hated the holidays.

And he did not have to explain himself for it.

Besides, everyone basically already knew why he did. And that it was his own fault for being in such a miserable state of existence.

Because of course he’d tried. He’d tried to reach out to Aelin in the past year, just for some sort of reconciliation. He’d never gotten anything in response. Connall told him to try therapy. Lorcan told him to try drinking himself to oblivion. Fenrys had ignored him for the better part of the year.

And now they were in the holidays and Rowan had to at least try and not be a “broody old buzzard.”

As Aelin would have said.

He was a fool. An utter waste of a fool.

“Remind me again why you’re having another holiday party?” Rowan asked Dorian that night.

Unlike the last party, this one was far more casual with far more alcohol and far less dress code.

“Because this one will actually be fun,” Dorian told him lightly.

The man still didn’t like Rowan, of course, but he had been gracious enough to allow Rowan to join his other friends to the invite.

“Especially when Aelin gets here and skins you alive,” Doran added. With a feral grin that he’d likely learned from Manon Blackbeak, Dorian slapped Rowan on the back with far too much force and left him alone.

He needed a whisky.

As Rowan went to get a drink, he heard more guests arrive. He glanced up to see Elide Lochan give a squealing hug to Lysandra.

Elide, he knew, was a longtime friend of Manon’s as well as a somewhat potential girlfriend of sorts to Lorcan. Rowan wasn’t sure and didn’t really want to ask knowing Lorcan would likely punch him. Elide was also a friend of Aelin’s so he would also be avoiding her.

“Oh look, it’s the ass,” Elide said as she calmly slipped past Rowan to grab a beer for her and her friend.

“Lochan,” he said looking down at her.

She fixed him with a sharp smile that was mostly teeth and derision. Lorcan better pray he never get on the woman’s bad side.

The night was progressing far too slowly for Rowan’s tastes and he debated to simply walk out. No one really wanted him there anyways. He had to squash that plan when Aelin entered, her new boyfriend at her side.

As always, Aelin looked phenomenal.

Her hair was straightened and pulled into a low ponytail so it hung down her back. Her makeup was simple with only bright red lipstick as the biggest accent. If Rowan hadn’t already been screwed over by the sight, the tight black dress she wore did the trick.

Hell she was glorious.

But he shouldn’t look at her like that. He had no right to. Not anymore.

Rowan knocked back his whiskey and refilled his drink. What was he even doing here?

Aelin was laughing too loudly at something Manon said. The two it seemed had the potential of becoming friends which in and of itself should terrify everyone.

He knew he must have been staring too long and too intently because Aelin chose that moment to look at him. The light that burned in her eyes snuffed out almost immediately and Rowan felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

He was a damned fool.

Like everything else in her life, tonight wanted to screw her over.

Aelin found Rowan staring at her. Blatantly. A slight haze of panic wrapped around her, until her felt Sam’s hand cup her elbow and pull her into his side. For that she was grateful. Grateful for that small ounce of support. Even though she couldn’t quite focus on anything, she could focus on Sam and the fact that he was there.

“Oh, we’re so excited,” Lysandra said, pulling Aelin from her tunnel vision of self-doubt. “It’s a miracle there was even an opening at the venue, but it’s going to be perfect.”

“That vineyard is so beautiful,” Elide agreed. She wore her hair long with her straight-line bangs finally growing out to the point that she could part her hair properly and style her hair the way she wanted to. Aelin had tried to convince Elide that getting bangs was not a good idea. But Elide had been drunk and on a mission.

“You’re going to make me play the piano outside?” Aelin complained. At least she could somehow contribute to the conversation even though she was lightyears away from the party.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” Lysandra insisted. She sent a wink Aelin’s direction as if to prove the worries were unfounded.

Aelin rolled her eyes.

This was normal. She could do normal. She could do easy and relaxed. All of her friends were here. All of the people she knew and loved. With of course the one exception.

“I just can’t believe you guys were able to squeeze your way onto the top of the list,” Manon said. She not so subtly thrust a drink into Aelin’s hand. Something that would most definitely get her drunk, no doubt.

There was the briefest of pauses where Lysandra and Aedion exchanged a look that was so quick and practiced that Aelin first thought how wonderful it was that they knew each other so well to communicate the way that they did and then a terrible sense of foreboding.

It was seconds. Seconds spanning years.

“Rowan helped,” Lysandra finally admitted. The guilt on her face was evident.

Aelin immediately took a sip of the drink Manon had made her. Oh yes, it was certainly going to make her forget about the night.

“He knows someone who knows someone,” Lysandra added. She glanced over her shoulder to where Rowan was still hiding near the kitchen.

His feature’s in their perpetual scowled lightened only for an instant. “My friend, Ren owed me a favor.”

“Ren?” Aelin couldn’t help but burst out. Ren was the last person she would have expected Rowan to interact with. Even though she was part of the reason the two even knew each other. “He hates you.”

“I became one of his managers in his company,” Rowan said softly. He met Aelin’s eyes. “Helped him from going bankrupt.”

Her mouth went dry and she had to fight against her automatic instinct to drown the rest of the hellish drink in her hand. Instead she nodded once. Stiffly.

Well here’s to doing something right, she wanted to say. She wanted to scream. She wanted to do anything but stand there and tell Lysandra and Aedion how excited she was.

But what else was there? She would not make a scene. Not so close to the holiday. Not when somehow everyone had moved on with their lives.

And then as a saving grace, her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Deliberately, she leaned up to kiss Sam on the cheek before excusing herself.

By the time she made it to the hall outside the apartment, she’d missed the call entirely. Aelin scowled to herself and headed downstairs. As long as she had escaped, she would make the most of it.

Outside, the wind had settled. At least she had a coat this time. Her coat with the long sleeves and deep pockets.

The missed call was from Yrene which made Aelin roll her eyes. Now who was bothering who? But she called back all the same.

“Hello Aelin,” Yrene’s calm voice came on.

“Are you upset that I made it one day without bothering you?” Aelin asked with a low chuckle.

She walked a few steps down the block, careful to avoid chunks of ice from a brief dusting snow last night combined with the sudden chill of last week.

“I just like checking in on my people,” Yrene said. The line went silent for a minute. “Are you okay?”

Aelin let out a long breath, glad Yrene couldn’t see her. But it seemed that the therapist could read people well enough without actually seeing their face.

“I’m fine,” Aelin said. She tilted her head up to the dark sky and watched as the first few flakes of snow began to descend.

Yrene made a disbelieving grunt on the other end, but remained silent.

“I am,” Aelin insisted. “I’m surrounded by my people.”

“Alright,” Yrene said, “let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Aelin promised.

As she hung up, she took a long breath and told herself it was fine for not going into everything with Yrene. Because she was fine. Really.

She turned to head back inside and came face to face with Rowan. He remained a few feet off, just descending the steps from the apartment building. At first, it seemed he didn’t even see her. Until he turned.

They stood there, feet apart. Worlds apart. So far from where they had been.

“I was just leaving,” Rowan said.

Aelin stared.

“I didn’t even want to be there anyways,” Rowan continued.

Snow continued to fall. The large flakes weren’t that imposing. It would end quickly, at least that’s what Aelin had always heard. A large snow would come and go, but the small one always lingered.

“Why would you even be there?” Aelin asked. She shook her head, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “You don’t even like Dorian. And Lys and Aedion will tie you to a spit and burn you alive. Why—”

She cut herself off before saying something truly unnecessary. Collecting her thoughts, Aelin breathed in the bone chilling air.

“Don’t you realize how hard this is for me? I’m done trying Rowan.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “Try? Did you try Aelin? Or are you just like me, running away. It’s what you did back then too.”

“Don’t you dare put this on me,” she hissed.

Aelin drew herself up so close to him. Close enough to smell his cologne. It hadn’t changed in all this time. Close enough to see the dark flecks of his green eyes. They were just as bold as before. Close enough to remember.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she stumbled back. Too close. Too close.

Rowan cursed and ran both hands through his hair. The longer bits fell into his face, cutting across his features.

She wanted to tell him good-bye. Wanted to say that this was it. She was done. Because she was, wasn’t she?

“I’m sorry,” he said. So soft that the words were almost swept away on the snowflakes curling past. “I didn’t mean that. I just...Dammit Aelin, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to erase myself from your life. From my life. When even after all this time it’s always been you. It’s only been you.”

The snow fell around them. The thick tufts turned into tiny specks. There was so much that Aelin almost lost sight of Rowan, even though she stood mere feet from her.

Bastard. Bastard for doing this to her again.

Because all she could see was that woman, Lyria, leaving the apartment building. A smug, secret sort of smile on her face. And the woman couldn’t have been more different from Aelin. Dark hair, tanned skin. Small and petite. And all Aelin could see was Rowan’s hands roving another woman. His lips…

Aelin shuddered.

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life regretting what happened,” Rowan continued. He was the one coming closer now. He reached out to catch her when she turned away, his grip soft enough that she could have left if she’d tried. “I’ll spend the rest of my life hating me for what I did to you. To us.”

His words were too soft, too gentle. Aelin found herself staring up at him with the tears in her eyes that she would not let fall.

She would not break. Not now. Here she was falling into the sense of love and life he always provided. Hell. What couldn’t she just let him go?

Aelin pressed a hand against Rowan’s chest. The sweater he wore was thick but she could still feel the steady thrum of his heart beating an uneven rhythm.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life hating you for that too,” she said.

And then she pulled away.

Seriously though, idk what happened here. Oh boy, ooooohhhh boy. thanks for reading my dears. love y’all!

AND I promise that I do have stuff in the mix that’s not so angst ridden.

tags, if i missed/you don’t want to be tagged-- let me know, I’m trying and failing at getting my life in order.

@ladywitchling @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @sjmships @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

#angst #rowaelin #rowaelin au #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin and rowan #aelin x rowan #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction

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galactichen · 4 years

Text

work of art | seo changbin

prompt #51. “Please stop rolling your shirt sleeves up, it’s terribly distracting.”

description. seo changbin, your tattoo artist of a boyfriend, is a work of art (and he knows it).

pairing. seo changbin x reader

genre. romance, tattoo artist au

word count. 1.0k+

author’s note. hello! starting up a brand new series where i work through a list of 100 prompts, writing up little drabbles or whatever comes to mind. mostly using these to introduce and perhaps develop some au’s and muses that have been running around my head.

warning. gets slightly suggestive bc tattoo artist changbin is a cocky piece of shit.

Changbin’s room was always fascinating to you.

Everytime you walked in, there was always something different about it compared to the last time you visited. Whether it be a different poster on the wall, a new arrangement of post-it notes with blueprints of his next design, or a new record on his desk for inspiration—there was always something to look forward to seeing.

Today is no different.

As you lay on his bed, eyes scanning the room, you take note of the new rock posters plastered on the wall—ones that you recognize as bands he’s recently taken a liking to based on his recent purchases at the record shop you worked at. They take up nearly half of the wall and would have kept going if not for the tall black shelf that is home to many of Changbin’s vintage records. They’ve been neatly arranged like books on a shelf, save for the few larger ones that have their own display stands, as well as his personal favourites. Rush, Led Zeppelin, and even The Beatles are among the albums that you could see from your perch on his bed.

One of the records in his collection has been taken off the shelf and now leans against the wall at his desk before Changbin himself, quiet humming coming from the boy as he sketches away, his chin in his other hand as he works.

His left arm that faces you is decorated in countless designs of black ink—some of his own, some from his friends, and some even from you. They swirl across his skin, curling across like snakes from his fingertips all the way up to his biceps before disappearing beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. It’s a work of art, much like Changbin himself, with his sharp eyes that are accentuated by his eyebrow slits, his other brow pierced with two little studs. His hair is messier than usual from the day’s work, exposing his undercut as well as the many piercings on his ear. And if you looked close enough, you could see another tiny tattoo of minimalistic stars behind that same ear.

It’s evident that Changbin viewed his body as, quite literally, a canvas, and took pride in his accessories and the art that trails across his skin. And not a day goes by where he’s not dreaming up more designs not only for himself, but his clients as well—just what he was doing right now.

You, on the other hand, had your laptop in front of you playing the latest season of one of your current favourite shows, your boyfriend’s beloved Munchlax plush toy clutched in your arms. It’s funny, really, how Changbin treasured this little toy—nobody (not even you when you first met him in your shop a year ago) would have guessed that an intimidating guy like him would own such a thing. It was literally almost as precious to him as his all-time favourite records.

A movement in your peripheral catches your eye, and you’re quick to notice Changbin lean back in his chair slowly, arms stretched over his head as he stretches out the kinks in his back. He lets out a sigh, dropping his arms back down before beginning to roll up his sleeves, exposing the rest of his tattoos as well as his biceps.

You struggle to keep focussed on your show, your eyes subconsciously trailing back to Changbin’s arms as he shifts his attention to his other sleeve. The way the muscles in his arm move is captivating, and it makes your insides turn to literal mush just watching him.

“Please,” you say, pausing your show. Changbin turns to you with a raised brow, arms paused in the air. “Stop rolling your sleeves up, it’s distracting.”

Changbin only grins at your words, turning in his swivel chair so he’s facing you. He spreads his legs, leaning forward so his elbows are resting atop his knees and god—he knew what he was doing.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” Changbin tells you with the absolute cockiest grin on his face. “What did you say?”

You sit up with a frown, still clutching his Munchlax—Gyu, you should call it—in your arms. “Don’t make me say it again,” you mutter quietly.

The way he sits in his chair, sleeves rolled up to expose his inked arms and hair tousled from constantly running his hands through it made you want to squirm in your spot, legs pressed together—but you don’t, because your boyfriend was a cocky piece of shit who thrived on things like that.

But then he opens his arms with a much warmer smile this time, and you find yourself on your feet before your brain can fully register it, his hands wrapping around your wrists to pull you onto his lap like second nature. Gyu gets temporarily squished between the two of you, so Changbin quickly tugs him out of your grasp and places him gently (wouldn’t want to abuse the poor thing now, would he?) on his desk.

“Am I a distraction?” Changbin whispers as you bury your face in his neck, the scent of his cologne bringing a familiar warmth to your chest. His hands slip beneath your shirt, sliding across your skin and the feeling of his cold fingers against you makes you shiver slightly.

“Unfortunately.” Your voice comes out slightly muffled and Changbin chuckles. “I was trying to watch my show, ‘binnie,” you whine quietly.

“What if we watch it together, hm?” he responds, his lips trailing light kisses down your neck. His hands begin to wander elsewhere, but you’re quick to lean back and catch them before they wander too far. He only gives you an innocent look when you glare at him, as if he was saying, I didn’t do anything.

“But what about-” you start to say, in reference to his work, but he cuts you off by pressing his lips against yours.

“It can wait,” he murmurs against your lips that move in rhythm with his. “My baby needs attention right now, doesn’t she?”

Cheeks flushed, your breath hitches when his hands wander again. This time, however, you don’t stop him.

#hi sorry this is a repost bc the original got hidden from searches #changbin #changbin imagines #changbin scenarios #changbin x reader #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #seo changbin #changbin imagine #changbin scenario #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #tattoo artist changbin #100 little prompts #update

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aimeelouart · 3 years

Note

Ma'am I am begging you for your brain scraps. Might you have anything--a sketch, a sentence, a thought--to feed your hungry followers today? (Also, jsyk I absolutely loved the "fight scene" between Seph & Gen in SSC. Gen being... well... sweet, and Seph being vulnerable are two things I never knew I needed until now, and I have you to blame for that craving!!)

(Thanks! That was mostly @sheseesinthedark ‘s genius at work! Genesis can only be sweet by being an asshole haha!)

Mmm, scraps huh? Okay, so in the SSC team writing server we have this channel called “sketchpad” where we just throw out little bits of writing as they pop in our heads. Context, no context, end of fic or middle, doesn’t matter. Here’s a scrap I wrote a while ago that, based on the way things are going, we aren’t going to use.

Angeal sighed. "Listen, we don't exactly want to keep you here either, but until you start working with us there's not much else we can do."

Cloud tossed his head and snorted angrily. "There is literally nothing stopping you from letting me walk right out."

"There are some things," Angeal returned dryly. "Common sense, morality, honor—"

"Honor?" Cloud interrupted incredulously. "What, your honor as a SOLDIER?"

Stung, Angeal snapped back a little defensively, "yes, as a SOLDIER—"

Cloud interrupted him again. "No one in Shinra can boast of honor," he said, low and dangerous. "SOLDIER is nothing but a den of monsters." He cocked his head, eyes far too cold for his soft face. "So what do you think that makes you?"

#ask #fic reply #Saving Subject C #writing scraps #angeal hewley #cloud strife

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marriael · 4 years

Text

Be my Latibule? (Changbin x Reader)

@skzrequests

Request: My pace 24 w changbin? uwu im a sucker for the idea of tattooist bin lmao I so vibed with this request, I love thinking about tattoist bin

Word count: 3717

a/n: part of the reason this took so long is I had to restart it twice :(

You walk into work at Insomnia Coffee Shop and your co-worker, Sohee, greets you.

“Anyone fun yet?” You ask. She's usually in when the store opens and often gets the most interesting customers.

“Not today. But yesterday a cute guy came in and ordered 3 americanos. Turns out it was for him and 2 friends. I tried to give them for free cause he looked half dead but he wouldn't let me. Who even does that?“

While she was talking you had slipped on the ugly orange apron and scowl when you noticed someone double knotted and didn't untie the strings.

You shake your head, “probably a college student pulling an all-nighter. What college student turns down free anything? Ugh, I wish some cute barista offered me free coffee, just, ever.”

Sohee turns and passes the drink over the counter. “For Jeno!”

A cute guy comes up to grab and winks at her before he turns to the door. Your jaw drops a little and you slap her shoulder.

“Is he a regular?” You ask.

“Nope. Said he got a recommendation from a friend and went out of his way to come. Weird day to do it though.”

You hum as the next customer comes in and you get thoroughly distracted. It isn’t until he comes up to the counter and speaks that you stop staring blankly.

“1 latte, 1 americano,” his voice is low and rough and he’s a little bit intimidating honestly. He’s got a small bit of a tattoo poking out one of the sleeves and you try and look at it before you have to turn around.

“Is that a tattoo?” You ask him when you turn around.

He rolls the short sleeve up to his shoulder to expose the full tattoo and you stare at the simple beauty of the moon and stars.

“Woah, that’s cool!” Sohee must’ve seen him just in her peripheral… or she was staring like you. You nod emphatically in agreement.

He blushes a little and says “thanks. Couldn’t reach this part of my arm or else I would’ve done it myself, but I still drew it.”

“Do you work at a tattoo parlour then?”

“Yeah, I do a lot of the designs for our place,”

You gasp, “can I come look at them? Please?” You pout trying to convince him to accept your strange request. You just felt something pulling you towards these drawings and the man who made them.

He looks at you for a moment then says, “yeah, let me give you the address. When you come in just ask for Changbin.”

He pulls out a random business card, not his unfortunately, and writes down the address. He slides it over and covers his smile with a sip.

You turn back to the coffee machines as he walks out the door but Mina stops you.

“Changbin huh? He was pretty cute,” she smirks.

“Hush your mouth and get back to work, brat.”

“Nuh-uh! I get to leave now but if, no no not if when, you meet him we're talking about this later.”

The next day was Tuesday and, thankfully, it was mostly empty of things for you. So you pull out the piece of paper Changbin gave you and looked up the address.

It was just a couple blocks down from the coffee shop and you head out. The building is small and squished right between a bakery and a florist, basically some cheesy romance just waiting to happen.

You walked in and looked around. There were corkboards on either sidewall and they were filled with drawings pinned to them. The bottoms of them fluttered a little at the draft you brought with you.

When you looked at him the man behind the counter raised an eyebrow at you. Ah, so it was very obvious you wouldn't be in here often.

You let out a little nervous laugh, “hi, Changbin told me to come see him here?”

The man raised both eyebrows at that. You fiddled as he looked you over again then laughed a little. “Changbin!” He suddenly yelled.

From one of the closed side rooms comes a muffled voice “go away Chan, I’m busy!”

The man at the desk, Chan, turns back to you “sorry, he’s always like this. He’s probably just sketching a custom.”

“Oh, I can come back later if he’s busy.”

Chan doesn’t answer you and instead yells at Changbin again “I know you’re not actually busy. Your partner is here to see you!”

“Hey!” You protest but Chan just grins at you as you hear the door open.

“Chan what the hell are you-” Changbin cuts himself off and gently smiles when he sees you “hey, didn’t think you were actually gonna come.”

You smile back at him. He looks much softer when he’s smiling and you were briefly caught off guard.

“Tell me again about how you’re not dating or at least interested, “ Chan’s eyes flick between the shy but wide smiles on yours and Changbin’s faces.

Changbin rolls his eyes but inclines his head towards the door he was behind and you follow behind him. He closes the door most of the way behind you and then moves to sit at the desk in the far corner. There are more drawings in here and you assume all of them are his. It’s a wide variety of subjects, from small sketches of animals and plants to large and detailed fantasy creatures.

“Sorry about Chan, he’s always delighted in teasing anyone who’s younger than him,” Changbin shakes his head, probably at Chan even though he can’t see or hear in the room.

“Have you two known each other a long time then?” You ask and tilt your head a little.

“Ah, yeah,” Changbin looks at you again, “most of us met in high school and a couple joined right at the start of college. College was really when our whole group started getting close, too.”

“Sounds nice,” you were paying attention to him, promise, but with such wonderful drawings surrounding you, you really couldn’t help it if your attention drifted a bit.

Changbin notices and raises an eyebrow slightly, “interested in getting one?”

“What? Oh, no no, not right now at least. They’re just… really, really good.”

Changbin immediately looks down and smiles, and you could swear he was blushing a bit but when he looks back up it's gone.

“There’s a couple hidden ones in here that aren’t mine. Think you can spot ‘em?” He challenges.

You immediately head up to one of the boards and stand about 5 centimetres away. You push a couple of them up and out of the way, making sure to be careful. There really is all sorts of stuff, Changbin must be pretty busy. A rushing river done with such detail you can almost see it moving. Swirls that when you look just right suddenly snap into focus to make an abstract, soaring bird. Nature moulded with a person or item in such a seamless way that there is not a difference between them, they are simply one continuous sight.

You’re looking for hidden drawings, not ogling at Changbin’s skills. Right. When you move one more there is a small piece of paper. There is… something on it. Either Changbin drew this when he was about 5 years old or it was someone else.

“Hey, I found one. I don’t even know what this is though, it looks like a squiggle.”

Changbin laughs, “hold on.”

He comes and looks right over your shoulder. You can feel his hot breath on your ear and feel his chest move when he laughs at the drawing again. You quickly reign in the slight disappointment when he moves away.

“Yeah, that’s the thing Chan keeps trying to make our mascot. Felix and I won’t let him so until one of us breaks it’s two against one,” he shrugs and it doesn’t look like he feels bad at all.

“Do all your friends have a drawing stashed in here somewhere?”

“Well, I’ve seen at least 16 drawings put in here so yes they all have one. Some of them and Felix, Jisung’s special twin, has hidden at least 4. There’s probably more that he did when I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Ugh, how many friends do you even have. If it’s more than, like, 6 I might be genuinely angry.”

Changbin practically cackles, “well then get ready to be absolutely furious. There’s 9 of us, including myself and everyone I’ve already mentioned.”

“That’s not even fair! How have you all been friends for so long without someone murdering someone else.”

“Oh, believe me. Seungmin’s wanted to. Unfortunately, his best friends are some of our greatest problem children. Though sometimes I'm pretty sure he'll murder them first.”

“Any other possible murderers I should worry about seeing?” You flip a couple more pictures up, still passively looking for any other weird drawings.

“Hm, Minho's murderous intentions are usually directed at Jisung. He'd do it for his cats too, though. He definitely fits in well.”

“Were there concerns about him not fitting in?”

“Yeah 'cause, he was the last one to join us, but he’s just as chaotic if not more. For Chan’s graduation night he insisted on using some mini firework things he found. Nearly lit himself and Jisung on fire with the very first one.”

Something clicks in your brain. You’ve heard this story before, from one of your random classmates. He was… interesting, to put it politely.

“Are you talking about Lee Minho? The smug bastard who tried to get everyone to call him Lee Know for like 5 months? And Han Jisung, my co-worker kind of, that I’m pretty sure hates me for some reason?”

“Wait, you know them? And why do you think Jisung hates you?”

“Yeah, Minho was my weird classmate. I’m like 90% sure Jisung hates me because he barely looks at me and gives one-word answers to all of my questions. I don’t really see him other than during shift switches but still!”

“I think Minho actually might have mentioned you before. And Jisung is just like that around people he doesn’t know. Trust me, he actually has the capacity to be the loudest person in the room. By far.”

“Huh, I wonder how many of your friends I actually know.”

"Well, we're hanging out on Thursday. Do you want to come with and meet some more of them?”

You hum thoughtfully, thinking of any possible commitments you had made lately, “I probably can but can I bring Sohee? Just so I know someone there?”

“Do I still not count as someone you know?” He whines and pouts a little for the extra effect.

“Not enough. If you all go off on some inside joke I need someone to be confused with.”

“Actually fair, because it might happen. I’ll let you know when and where we’re going later then.”

You pull out your phone and extend it to him, when he looks at it confused you raise an eyebrow, “unless you plan to send it by bird I recommend putting your number in my phone.”

He makes a surprised noise and keeps his eyes away from you and on your phone. It has not spread to his face but under his dark hair his bright red ears peek out just enough for you to see. Even when handing it back he doesn’t look at you and you smile at his bashfulness.

“See ya soon, Bin. I work again tomorrow.”

Directions are not always your strong suit. You’d like to believe they are and that’s how you end up like this, no map and unsure of what direction you should even look in.

“You look lost,” a voice comes from behind you.

You spin around. A tall puppy-like guy is standing behind you, he looks slightly amused and you’re betting it’s at your expense.

“Yeah, do you know where M.I.A Café is?”

“Oh,” he nods, “yeah I’m going there. Let’s go.”

It’s slightly awkward, walking this distance with someone you don’t know. You search your brain with how to start a conversation with someone.

“Are you… meeting someone at the café?” You ask, slightly awkward.

“Yeah, a couple of my friends.”

“Huh, so am I. Well, actually, it’s someone else’s friends and I’m just kinda tagging along,” you shrug, realizing how awkward this will probably be.

“Good luck with that,” he says as he holds the door for you.

You enter and scan the tables for Changbin’s face. You wave and slip into the chair opposite him. On the edge of the table thankfully, hopefully Sohee can recognize the back of your head. Someone sits next to you and you get a little shock seeing who it is.

He grins at you, “hey stranger.”

The guy you walked all that way with one of Changbin’s friends!

Changbin looks between you confusedly, “you know Seungmin?”

“He helped me get here. I might have gotten a little lost.”

“A little, ok. You had no idea where you were,” Seungmin snarks.

“Maybe so!”

“Well good to know you get along with another one of my friends already,” Changbin interjects.

Someone comes up and sits beside Changbin.

“Hey, I’m Hyunjin,” he greets you simply.

You give him a little wave. You don’t like judging people so fast but he’s a little intimidating.

You hear a little scrape of a chair beside and Sohee pops down at the end of the table.

“Sohee, you made it!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” she sticks out her tongue at you.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before,” Hyunjin speaks up and you whip your head towards him.

Sohee looks at him and squints for a moment. They start looking at each other for so long that you think they’re actually just having a staring contest. You think you recognize someone walking outside but when you actually look out the window you have no idea who any of them are. It’s still a nice day out, maybe you can go out somewhere after this.

“Oh! You’re the guy I thought was going to drink 3 americanos the other day!”

“Sohee~” you sing.

“What?” She looks at you, annoyed.

“You forgot an important detail that you told me about him.”

She looks genuinely confused for a moment before catching on and shaking her head, “shut up, nope nope nope.”

“You think he’s cute!” You cackle.

You, Changbin, and Seungmin make fun of Sohee and Hyunjin for a little while. It backfires when Sohee manages to sneakily turn the attention on you, well you and Changbin. Together, you being together.

“Yeah, and you stared at him for so long when he came in!” Sohee says.

“Sohee, kindly shut your mouth,” you reply, smiling the most pained and fake smile ever.

“Ok, please don’t pour your drink on me, I’m afraid. Also we work together so I’m coming for you.”

You just roll your eyes at her, you didn’t actually scare her and you both know that. She just likes to be some sort of annoying sister to you.

Hyunjin clears his throat and when you look at him his eyes are bright. He smiles sneakily and says, “you should hear about the time Changbin actually poured his drink on someone.”

“Hyunjin that was an accident and you know it!” Changbin exclaims, attempting to shoulder check a giggling Hyunjin.

You breeze into Blueprint Tattoos and Chan looks up in surprise.

“Hey there, didn’t know you were coming in today.”

You let out a single, unnatural ‘ha’, “I didn’t know either but uh, here I am.”

“Well, Changbin’s in his usual spot. I don’t think he has anything today.”

“Thanks,” you nod stiffly.

Looking around at the cork boards you can see some of them definitely done in Changbin’s style and a handful more you suspect would be his. You breathe out heavily and slouch a little before straightening and walking towards where Changbin should be, full of false confidence.

“Are you ok?” Chan asks and when you look over his eyebrows are furrowed and his forehead pinched down a little. The concern from someone you barely know is a little unusual but the warmth you get from it is welcoming.

“Yeah, just a little nervous you know?” You force a small laugh but you know it’s not convincing.

“Oh!” Chan exclaims, “well if this is what I think it is then good luck.”

Chan’s face is completely relaxed and you feel a little bit bad for making him worry so much. You’re not entirely sure what he thinks you’re doing but you smile at his kindness as you open Changbin’s door.

He has headphones in and doesn’t hear when you close the door behind you. You stand there for a minute, back against the door, just looking at him. Most people move to what they’re listening to but the only thing moving is his hand and it glides across the page. You have no idea what he’s doing but you just hope he’ll show it to you when he’s done.

You take a big breath in and out before approaching him. Tapping his shoulder gently you hope not to cause him to jerk his arm and ruin a line or anything. He stops completely and pulls his headphones out. He looks a little annoyed but then he looks up to see you and his face eases.

“Hi! I didn’t know you were coming today. Anything specific on the brain or did you just want to hang out with Best Friend Binnie?” He gives you an exaggerated and comical wink.

“Give me a tattoo?” You say, surprisingly calm for how jittery you actually feel.

“Wait, what? Are you sure? Like really sure?”

You roll your eyes like a stereotypical teenager would at their parents, that is to say, so far back it felt like they would disappear into your head, “no, Changbin, I’m not sure. I’ve really only been thinking about it basically since the first time I walked into this room.”

“That was only a week ago,” Changbin deadpans.

“Yeah, and?”

Changbin shakes his head, “I’m not going to give you a tattoo you’ll regret.”

You look around at the drawings. Feeling like that one action gave this decision away as way more spontaneous than it had originally seemed. Yes, you had been thinking about getting one and getting Changbin to do it for you but doing it today specifically was a complete impulse.

“I’m not going to regret it! Bin, please,” you pout at him.

Changbin tilts his head to look at the ceiling as if it will give him some guidance.

“What do you want?”

You clap your hands excitedly and then hesitate again.

“Well, I know I want a flower but… I want you to choose which one. I want it to be a flower with a good meaning behind it.”

Changbin nods and stands there considering your request. You take the time to look around his office again. Staring at all the intricate drawings on the walls you feel a bit dorky choosing to get a simple flower. Your eyes briefly catch on two stylized drawings of the word SpearB. One of them has a cute little ‘Binnie~’ under it and the other has a messy ‘Chanathan’ in English and Korean.

There are a couple of flowers scattered throughout the room so you’re a bit surprised when you hear Changbin ripping a page out of his sketchbook. His back is to you so you can’t see him cutting it down to a size to la and trace on your body. You can hear the gentle snips of scissors as you distract yourself with rows of flowers connected and individual petals with such detail you could believe them being real.

You watch as he gently traces the pattern onto your skin. You don’t recognize the flower right away but it looks delicate and beautiful. You think you catch him glancing up at you a few times but you’re pretty sure the clock is behind you and he’s looking at that.

You zone out almost entirely as he prepares. Well, it’s not exactly zoning out. You’d say it’s appreciation of an attractive man, your friends would say that you’re just checking him out.

Ok, so what if you are? Changbin’s shirt has no sleeves which means his arms are on full display which means that you can’t stop looking at the muscles flexing as he moves. Thankfully you’re conscious enough to look away when he turns back around.

The buzz of the gun wakes you up and Changbin is looking at you.

“All good?” He asks.

“Yeah, let’s do this.”

You watch for a moment as he starts going and the ink sinks permanently into your skin. It’s a strange thing to conceptualize, something being on your body forever. You catch a glimpse of Changbin’s concentrated face and you get completely distracted by him. If this is what he looks like everytime he gives a tattoo then you want to observe, even study, him.

His mouth is set in a firm line and eyebrows pinched slight inwards and downwards. His eyes are wide and focused and if you look closely enough you can see every slight movement of his irises following his hand around.

Neither of you say a word and you don’t dare move to try and look at the clock or your phone. Just watching and waiting in silence, but together. A shared silence is different than one had alone.

Silences by yourself can feel wrong sometimes but this kind of silence with Changbin feels so right that you almost never want it to end.

Good things often come quicker than they should and soon the buzzing stops. You can hear phantom buzzing still and suspect you will for quite a while. You lift your arm and look at it, it’s finished now but you’re still not sure what it is and certainly not what it means.

“What is it?” You ask.

“An almond blossom. It, uh, it means promise.”

“Promise, huh?” You grin and look at Changbin's pink-ish face.

You expect him to have some witty comment but instead, he just smiles goofily and breathlessly says, “yeah.”

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 13)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 My Master Post

Remy was slumped down in his seat as Emile continued to lecture him on all the possible consequences of his actions over the past 24 hours. Jeezy creezy was Emile miffed about all of that. Remy had been trying to blow it off, but Emile was fully, painfully aware that he’d almost had lost his brother today and Remy was going to hear about it until Emile’s lungs aches.

“And another thing…” he said.

“Wait,” Remy said, and Emile did because there was a lace of panic to his tone.

“What?” Emile asked.

“The tracker stopped working,” Remy answered pushing buttons a little bit desperately on his device.

“It went completely offline somehow,” Remy said.

“Did it get turned off?” Emile asked. “Or run out of batteries?”

“It doesn’t turn off and the batteries are designed to last for years,” Remy said. “It can even track through 20 feet of water. The only way it could stop sending a signal this abruptly is if the thing was destroyed.”

Emile paused. “You said Virgil knows what the blinking light means.”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible that he knows, or well, ‘knows,’ you’re dead? Barbara did send a man after him, he could have mentioned it.”

Remy stared down at the device in his hands.

He pressed a couple of buttons and studied the screen for a moment. “You little shit,” he groaned. “You threw it out the fucking car window, didn’t you?”

“How do you know?” Emile asked.

“Because if I look at the history, it was going at 65 miles per hour down the interstate, suddenly stopped cold, and then went offline probably when another car inevitably crushed it.”

“Ah.”

“Well, at least the fucker’s probably okay. Dammit Virgil! Where are you going?” Remy pushed a few more buttons almost idly as he thought. “Let me get into Virgil’s head for a minute: emo music, dark clothes, would rather have his toenails ripped out than go to parties, makes split second decisions based on little info. Yep! Got him.”

Emile rolled his eyes, but Remy wouldn’t have noticed as he had his own eyes closed. “Hmm. So, I’m Virgil. My bitch mom killed my dad and sent someone after me. I have no idea what’s going on, but I bolt out of there because fuck mom. I want to get the hell out of dodge so I convince someone to drive me somehow, I guess, but where would I want to go? Someplace safe. Where’s safe? Maybe Emile, but obviously that’s not where he went. Or Janus, but he’s too connected to mom. I don’t really know anyone else, especially not someone who could help with this sort of stuff.”

Remy thought for another long moment. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Emile asked. “What oops?”

He could tell by the expression on Remy’s face that he was not going to like the answer. “I may have let something… slip.”

“What do you mean, Remington?”

“Um, well you see,” Remy said. “A couple of months ago Virgil was being, you know, himself: a little shit. He may have, possibly, found some papers.”

“What kind of papers?” Emile asked.

“They were nothing important!” Remy assured. “There wasn’t any dangerous info in them or anything, but…”

“But?”

“It is somewhat possible that they had the name on them.”

“How possible?” Emile asked, eyes narrowed on him.

“He asked what Green Bellow Foods was and why they needed 50 top-of-the line computers outfitted at an old factory.”

“And what did you tell him?!”

“Nothing!”

Emile glared at him.

“Okay, well I had to tell him something,” Remy mumbled. “I just kind of said that I knew the owner well and was working with him on some stuff. Then I told him not to worry about it, which was probably a mistake, because he’s Virgil. So, then I found him snooping in my car. At that point I had to sit him down and talk to him. So, I told him a bit about Logan.”

“Remy that’s not nothing!”

“I didn’t use his name or anything. I just told him a couple of really, extremely, tremendously, vague stories, so he didn’t think I owed money to the mafia. Which, yes, he did suggest.”

“That’s worse!”

“What do you want from me Emile?!”

“Some common sense!” Emile answered. “I’ve been comparing you to the rat in Ratatouille for years, but I’m starting to think you’re more of a Pinky from Pinky and the Brain.”

“Hey, ouch,” Remy replied. “Also, I personally subscribe to the theory that Pinky is actually the intelligent one who is foiling Brain’s evil plots from the inside. So, there.”

“Now is not the time,” Emile said.

“Oh, it’s not the time to discuss cartoon theories?” Remy mumbled into his lap. “Must be serious.”

“It is serious! Virgil is missing!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Remy snapped. “I know, Emile.”

There was quiet. Emile took a breath. “Okay,” he said, calmer. “Do you really think he’s going to Logan?”

“He’s headed somewhere,” Remy answered, “and wherever that somewhere is, it’s inexplicably down the most direct route towards base.”

“Well, Virgil is smart. I don’t think he’d just keep going so quickly without a destination in mind. We should call Logan.”

“Do you honestly believe Barbara doesn’t have your phone tapped when Virgil is missing? If you had one of Logan’s phones, I might agree with you, but as it is, we’d be giving away our position, and possibly clueing her into Virgil’s plan. If he shows up at base, Logan will take him in no question. It’s less dangerous for everyone this way.”

“Fine,” Emile said. “We’ll just keep driving towards Logan and hope you’re right about where he’s going.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Remy said lightly. “I’ve got the paternal instincts going on. Course, they didn’t stop the knife throwing incident of ’09. I blame Janus for that, though.”

Emile shook his head at him.

“It is good for when he tries to steal sweets, or that one time he brought home a baby piglet and tried to hide it from me in his bedroom. Or when he’s feeling anxious about something but won’t tell me because he thinks it’s silly.” Remy’s own fingers tapped out an anxious pattern against his knee. “It also worked with the golf cart incident, but it was too late. Again, I blame Janus. He messes with the paternal instinct meter. He’s far too unpredictable and I make the mistake of thinking he’s responsible, which he is half the time, but the other half of the time I remember that he’s still mostly a kid and one that grew up in an unstable environment. Did I tell you that last month they went and won a bunch of tickets at the arcade and used them to get those 5 ticket rubber ducks and just unloaded them all over my room? Honestly, you’d think a 21-year-old would have a better use for his money or at least have the brains to go buy them at a store. He could have gotten like 500 more ducks for the same amount of money. Of course, it was his mom’s money, so I guess I can get behind wasting it on arcade games and rubber ducks. The prank was apparently based on some comedy sketch Virgil found online.”

“You’re doing the thing again,” Emile pointed out calmly.

“Stop psych evaluating me,” he shot back.

“Fine, fine,” Emile said. “Keep distracting yourself from your emotional responses with silly stories. See if I care.”

“Thank you,” Remy replied. “I will.”

Emile sighed as he started back up again mumbling something about having taken away Virgil’s Gameboy after catching him playing it at 3 o’clock in the morning. He claimed this wasn’t because the boy hadn’t gotten any sleep on a school night, but because he’d insulted Donkey Kong to Remy’s face. After that story had run its course, Remy continued to babble at an increasingly fast pace about all sorts of things. Emile imagined most of the stories he sprouted off were quite embellished.

Emile had tried to turn on the radio once, but Remy had slapped his hand away saying, “The next one’s a really good one.” So, he had resigned himself to his fate of tuning out Remy’s coping mechanism to the best of his abilities and just focusing on driving for the next 45 minutes. Which is probably why he noticed that traffic had strangely decreased. He didn’t really pay the fact that much mind until the traffic suddenly increased… in the form of a wall of stopped cars.

“Jenkies, what’s going on?” he asked, as he came to a stop at the end of the line of cars.

“Um…” Remy said looking out of his car window. There, staring into their car with beady black eyes was a cow. As Emile watched, said cow leaned forward to drag its tongue across the passenger side window. “Shit.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 14

#sanders sides #remy sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #platonic remile #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #road trips and missing persons #adriana writes #murder mentioned #emile piccani

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years

Text

Being Human - Chapter 12

<= Chapter 11

Summary : Snatcher has a talk with someone. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/65084764

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NEW CHAPTER HEEEEY I hope you'll like it ! I managed to work quite well on "Being Human" recently and I finished writing the 14th chapter yesterday (and it's a long one too) ! I had a blast writing the 12th and 14th chapter and I can't wait for you to read it !

Thank you so much for all your support, it means so, so, so much to me. I know I keep repeating this, but this is the truth. Without you, I wouldn't be where I am today.

Fun fact: I will soon draw my 100th drawing on "A Hat In Time" (I'm colouring the 98th one and I sketched the 99th one, I genuinely wonder what the 100th will represent!). I have been extremely productive this year, I think I drew like 150 pictures (in general) from the beginning of 2020 to today. And it's all thanks to you guys !! Thank you so much !

ANYWAY.

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 12 - “You’re bad at telling scary stories.”

-“Here, come this way,” instructed Cooking Cat, as she led him to the machine room, her face serious now that the kids were nowhere in sight.

Snatcher’s expression showed how confused he was, seeing where she was taking him. Why there? He didn’t have his place in this room, and certainly neither did she, unless he greatly underestimated her. If she saw his face, she didn’t say anything, leading him further into the ship instead, stopping in front of a green door with the pictogram of a brush on the centre of it. Where would it lead? A playroom perhaps? A room dedicated to hobbies? After all, with such a huge ship, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to find a room like that inside.

The door opened swiftly revealing -another!- hallway, just as sloped as the others. Oh, this was just great, especially with how he fell earlier. His legs hurt. Well, everything did, but mostly his legs. However, the cat seemed to notice the scowl on his face and offered her paw for him to remain stable.

-“Need some help?” she offered, concern plastered all over her face. Ugh, Gods, did Snatcher hate that expression. It just made him feel even more pathetic than he already was.

-“No,” he spat, keeping his eyes fixed on the slope not to stumble, “I can walk on my own. I’m not a stupid baby, thank you,” he added, his stone still very harsh. Deep inside, he knew the other was just trying to help, but he couldn’t keep the words inside. He was too mad at himself, at the whole situation to care. But, surprisingly, Cooking Cat only smiled at him and pulled her hand back.

-“Okay,” she simply replied and the former ghost cringed at her compassionate tone. Still… This was a very different reaction than what he had expected. The hatted brat would have yelled at him, the other one would have given him a sad look… But Cooking Cat just agreed, not looking different than usual, despite his harsh words.

Somehow… Somehow, it felt like he wasn’t rushed to accept his current “condition” for once. It was a nice change. He knew the little girls had been trying to help him, but this was different, in a way he couldn’t describe precisely.

Great, and now he was feeling bad. Just another negative feeling on the top of all the terrible ones he was already feeling, perfect, fantastic. The former ghost avoided looking at Cooking Cat, guilt eating him inside. This was so ridiculous: he was (used to be…?) a soul-stealing spirit, one that forced people to work for him only to kill them afterwards… And now he was feeling guilty? What the heck?

“This is just this stupid human brain,” he thought grumpily as they walked into the hallway, the cat adapting her pace to match his, not forcing him to go faster than he could. He hated to be pitied that much, it just reminded him that he was less capable than any human… Yet, a part of himself felt grateful for it, no matter how much he was trying to repress it.

Snatcher wasn’t weak, he didn’t want to be. How could he, with an entire village to protect against a crazy Queen? It was his responsibility.

They eventually reached the other door, which opened just as quickly as the first one. The sight that greeted Snatcher’s eyes was definitely not one he had expected. His jaw dropped from the surprise, his eyes glancing everywhere, examining his surroundings with much interest.

It was a gallery. The walls were green, with burgundy columns in the corners of the room. The floor was covered in red carpet, with round, darker patterns on it. A long light green rug was in front of them, starting from the door to the opposite wall. On their left was a pedestal on which was exhibited a bust with a golden, shiny necklace. Just as expected, the room was full of paintings, all very different from one another. Most of them represented the hatted girl, others showed people he didn’t know, or ones he vaguely remembered such as the mafia goons who often wandered in his forest. He entered the room, more than impressed with what he was seeing… Until he found a particular painting that caught his attention.

-“Hey, that’s me!” he exclaimed, surprised. He moved just in front of the painting, admiring it in bewilderment: his previous ghostly appearance could be seen in the middle of the picture, as if he were screaming, though his expression wasn’t a horrified one. The setting seemed awfully familiar to him, as if he had seen another version of that painting somewhere else. Huh. Weird.

Confusion replaced his initial surprise as questions echoed in his mind. However, his lips moved on their own, voicing them as he kept his eyes stuck on the painting before him:

-“Who made that?” he asked, unable to look anywhere else.

Cooking Cat stayed silent for a brief moment, as if to think, before replying, unsure:

-“I don’t know,” she answered trustfully: “I’ve only been here once, to be completely honest. I tried asking about it, but the girls avoided the question. They’re usually pretty talkative, but there are some things they try not to talk about. So… I don’t force them.”

The former ghost remembered what the kids told him earlier, about the war that broke out between their people… If this was something like that, it made sense they didn’t want to talk about it. He couldn’t really blame them, considering he didn’t like to mention his own past. However… This was different: his face was literally on the picture, he was directly concerned by this! He never gave anyone the right to use his image! Really, the nerve of some people, he should sue!

But, as he finally managed to inspect the other paintings as well… He realized that he wasn’t the only one concerned, seeing as some pictures featured other people, like that awfully annoying tourist that always managed to avoid his traps…

For real, who painted those? Certainly not the kids: he had seen their drawings and they certainly didn’t look like that. These paintings were obviously made by professionals, people who knew how to draw and how to colour. What a strange mystery…

Snatcher was brought back to reality as Cooking Cat called out to him softly. He turned in her direction, noticing only now that she was sitting on the floor, patting the spot next to her, as an invitation for him to join her.

-“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, with a mix of confusion and mockery in his voice.

-“Trust me,” she answered, patting the spot harder, clearly insisting. The man looked at her for a few seconds, wondering how naive she could be to think he’d sit on the floor just because he was asked to… But no matter how motionless he remained, she just kept her eyes on his, waiting patiently for him to sit, not pushing him nor rushing him to do so.

Just waiting.

It wasn’t long until her stare made him ill at ease, made him feel like he was ridiculous, just like a child throwing a tantrum at his patient mother. But as soon as that thought came to his mind, he realized this wasn’t really far from the truth, given how motherly Cooking Cat had acted up until now… And he had just admitted he was behaving like a kid.

Now that was just great.

With a loud and frustrated sigh, Snatcher eventually gave in and sat next to her, a clear frown visible on his face. His arms were around his legs, keeping his knees close to his chest. He stared at her with irritation:

-“Fine, I’m sitting next to you. Amazing. What now?” his voice sounded bored and exasperated, but he was actually intrigued, if he had to be completely honest. Why would she take him to this room, only to have him sit on the carpet? As if this was going to help him fight his so-called emotions! Ugh.

Being human sucked.

However, before he was able to say anything else, he felt a powerful tug on the collar of his jacket, pulling him down to the floor. His back soon hit the ground, though not as hard as he thought it would. His head thankfully was stopped by the cat’s paw before any possible impact. Snatcher’s eyes were wide open from the surprise and the shock, looking everywhere as the gears in his mind started to turn. And then it clicked.

Cooking Cat had pulled on his collar, forcing him to lie down, his back against the soft carpet.

-“Hey!” he protested, trying to straighten up once more: “What do you think you’re doi-”

Yet, despite his wish to yell at the other for her over-familiar gesture, he was silenced both by the cat and by the sight caught by his eyes.

-“Hush and look up,” she simply said, pointing at the ceiling, forcing him back down. She lied down as well, putting her chef’s hat aside as she did so. Snatcher stopped moving as he stared at what was above him, speechless with awe. A glass ceiling, one he could see through, one that showed him many stars and planets so, so far away from him and yet so beautiful.

-“What-,” started the former ghost, only to close his mouth, not sure what to say. A lot of conflicted emotions were echoing in his mind, like exasperation, impatience but, most of all, confusion. Why would she bring him here out of every room in the spaceship? Why would she make him lie down to look at Space -not that he’d complain about that last point- ? What was she trying to achieve by doing so? Snatcher didn’t understand and that only made him even more irritated.

Thankfully, Cooking Cat seemed to pick up on his emotions without having him explain them in details. It really was impressive how she managed to read people like open books and, in a way, that made the man quite uneasy. Knowing his heart could be so exposed to someone he barely knew… This was not something he enjoyed.

-“Thought you might like this,” she explained calmly: “I wanted to talk to you in private and, well, we might as well be in the nicest room of the ship, right? Plus… We have such a good view, here.”

Snatcher stared at her, not sure what to answer at first. Yet… He could only agree. They did have a really good view. The stars were all shiny, very distinct from the black, interstellar void. Planets could be seen in the distance, like ants walking on the glass ceiling. Somehow, lying down and watching all of that gave the man the feeling of floating above water, as if he were drifting away and seeing the sky moving. In a way… This wasn’t entirely false, as the ship was drifting away. Still, the sight remained particularly magnificent and very different from what he was used to see in Subcon Forest, even at the top of his tree.

-“There isn’t anything to talk about,” replied Snatcher with a scowl, glancing away. Why would he talk to someone he just met? He would be stupid to do so, especially since he didn’t even like talking to people to begin with. Well, unless they could be useful to him in any way, he supposed. In any case, personal topics were a definite no-no and nothing this cat could say would change anything.

-“Really?” answered Cooking Cat with a false surprised intonation: “I thought you’d like to hear about one of the tales I was told when I was only a kitten, you know, the one about you.”

Okay, maybe Snatcher was ready to talk about some personal topics.

He squinted, wary, eying the cat with suspicion:

-“You’re trying to gain my trust to make me talk, aren’t you?” he accused her, though she only smiled more at his accusations, lifting her paw to her heart to feign being hurt by them.

-“Me?” she gasped with exaggeration: “Oh, no, I would never!”

The man just frowned even more. Yeah, she was totally trying to make him talk. At this thought, he let out a long and loud irritated sigh. Whatever, it wasn’t like he could get out of this situation anyway. He had the feeling the cat wouldn’t let him, especially with how he had behaved earlier. And so, what could he do but to endure this, if it meant he could leave faster and stay alone to mope just like he wanted to? Thus, with an audible and exaggerated groan, Snatcher agreed.

-“Fine,” he grunted, already feeling he was going to regret this, “Hope it’s scary, otherwise keep it to yourself,”

-“Oh, it is,” she confirmed, nodding vigorously: “It kept me up at night many times. We were told that naughty kittens would be taken away by a mysterious spirit called “The Snatcher”, only to be eaten and forgotten by their family.”

The former shade listened attentively, wondering where the story would go. Well, so far, the story was half true. He didn’t kidnap kittens, but he did eat people somewhat, so heh, close enough.

-“So, I was your Bogeyman equivalent, basically,” he interrupted, not sure what to think of that. It was nice to know he terrified children, but being compared with such a ridiculous monster was kind of an insult. His words made his interlocutor laugh though, and she continued telling her story:

-“Ahaha, yeah, pretty much! I used to fake not being scared by it in front of my parents, but as soon as night came, I would always shake like a leaf under my bedsheets. It lasted a few years, I must admit,” she giggled awkwardly at the memory: “But you know, I’m glad I was scared of you as a kitten,” she confessed, glancing back at him with a warm smile.

-“Why?” retorted Snatcher, quite perplexed. Why would someone be happy about something like that? Usually, people would do everything to repress childhood traumas like this, or at least laugh about it later… But being happy about it? This sounded off, if not just wrong.

-“Because one night, I was so scared I couldn’t sleep. And so, I slipped out of bed and rummaged through my parents’ bookcase, doing my best not to wake them up… And then, I found what changed my whole life.”

-“And that was…?” asked Snatcher curiously, still wondering how he could have indirectly impacted someone’s life so much. He disliked helping people, so even doing so without actually wanting to made him frustrated.

-“The first cooking book I ever read,” she told him with, perhaps, the most heartfelt expression he had ever seen: “It wasn’t special or anything, just an old book my mother had kept just not to throw it away… But I was immediately hooked on it. Just thinking about creating something new from completely different ingredients… It’s, woah, you know?”

The former spirit remained silent, not sure how to answer. He wanted to retort something disagreeable, he wanted to shut her up, wanted not to listen to her sappy backstory… And yet, he kept his mouth close, for a reason he couldn’t quite place.

Was he becoming soft?!

Hating the sound of that thought, he just scoffed at her words. Yet, he already knew it wasn’t as sincere as his usual mockeries were. It felt like he was just trying to prove to himself that he was still the horrible and terrifying ghost he had been the last few centuries. This just made him feel ridiculous, ugh.

-“Hey, it’s true!” protested Cooking Cat with a little nudge, though she didn’t seem like she was offended by his attitude. Instead, she seemed to take it lightly, like a joke or something: “I remember that time so clearly. I went down in the kitchen in the middle of the night and I tried cooking something from the book. But not only did I end up cooking something that tasted terrible, but I also woke up my parents in the process!” she started to laugh again, staring into space as she looked like she was remembering it fondly: “Oh, they were mad, really mad, I can tell you that. But still, it made me realize how much I loved cooking and it soon became my dream job afterwards.”

-“Couldn’t have guessed,” he remarked sarcastically, hinting at her own name, which was pretty obvious on that regard.

-“Oh, hush!” she nudged him once more, still mischievously. Her smile faded after a few moments and she let her eyes wander in the interstellar void. Silent fell between the two and Snatcher couldn’t help but imitate her, watching the stars drift away through the window, his ears catching up on the many sounds caused by the ship. The constant whirring of the engine was… Soothing, so much that he almost fell back asleep at some point, only to be brought back to reality as Cooking Cat started to talk again:

-“So, I guess… I wanted to thank you. For existing and for being you, I mean,” she said softly: “Without you, I wouldn’t have become what I am today. Thank you.”

Snatcher glanced away, his expression turning bitter. He didn’t want to be thanked for anything. He didn’t want to help anyone, he didn’t want to be nice, even indirectly! He was a soul-stealing ghost, an entity who had murdered countless of people and had done so without feeling any guilt!

… Well, he didn’t anymore, at least. But that wasn’t the point!

Apparently, his face must have been pretty obvious to read as the cat spoke again, an embarrassed tone in her voice:

-“Sorry, I think I said more than I should have,” she confessed, giving him an apologetic look: “I didn’t want to make you feel ill-at-ease. But, if that makes you feel any better, you did give me plenty of nightmares as a kitten, so that makes us even, right?”

The former spirit only scoffed again, this time much more sincere than the last. Gods, this was so sappy, he could almost throw up because of it… Well, figure of speech, considering that he didn’t really want to experience that out of everything possible from being back from the dead. Still, this was some mushy stuff right there, exactly what exasperated him the most.

And yet, he kept his mouth closed once more. The other waited patiently, not pushing him to say or do anything and… It really felt nice. And while he was still feeling pretty… Bad, it was still better than a while ago. At least, he was calmer and less likely to snap.

It is only at that moment he realized that Cooking Cat’s purpose had not been to make him talk about his feelings… But just make him feel better, if only a little bit, never forcing him to listen if he didn’t want to. Snatcher frowned, though it wasn’t from irritation this time.

He was feeling guilty and he hated that. Why did he have to feel things like that?! However, the former shade did his best to push that thought away, very much aware that this would only lead him to snap again. And so, Snatcher took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so. He couldn’t describe how much he had needed that.

-“You know,” he reopened his eyes after a few minutes of silence, “You’re bad at telling scary stories,” he eventually said, the tinge of a smile on his lips.

Cooking Cat smiled back at him, not taking that as an insult… Because it wasn’t really one, in the end. Fortunately, she was observant enough to notice that instantly.

-“I know, I know,” she answered with a short giggle, before continuing, her eyes fixed on his as a more serious expression appeared on her features: “I hope you’ll teach me someday, though.”

The message between those words was clear to the man: “I’ll always be there if you need to talk again, never fear to ask”. Although… He couldn’t deny he was quite hesitant on the matter. After centuries spent without talking to anyone about his -ugh- ‘feelings’, suddenly doing so wasn’t really easy. On the contrary, it was pretty difficult. However, another thing he couldn’t deny was how he felt a bit better after talking to the cat, even if they hadn’t talked about anything related to the recent events. But perhaps it was the reason, maybe he was feeling better because she hadn’t mentioned anything about that, because she had let him choose whether he wanted help or not… And it felt nice, to have his boundaries being respected like that.

He had needed this.

-“Maybe,” he finally replied with a small nod, his eyes fixed on the glass ceiling: “not sure you can handle it, though, I am pretty scary,” he joked, even though it was still a little hard to do so considering how he was feeling at the moment. But it did the job and Cooking Cat laughed again:

-“Oh, don’t worry, I’m kind of stubborn,” she assured him. After a few more moments of silence, she stood up, catching Snatcher’s attention: “The girls must be waiting for us, by now. Let’s go back,” she told him, offering her hand to help him to stand up.

The thought of seeing the brats again after the incident in the kitchen made him quite uneasy, for obvious reasons. It would be stupid to wonder about what they talked about, considering what had just happened. He didn’t really want to see them now, yet some part of him knew that waiting would just make things worse. And as they were the only persons in the world able to revert him to his spectral form… It was best to avoid any conflict with them.

And so… Snatcher took Cooking Cat’s paw, the cat waiting patiently for him to do so. He stood up just like her, his posture tensed as he agreed to her words:

-“Yeah… Let’s go back.”

Whether the bad feeling he had about this was going to become reality or was just the product of his pessimistic nature… He didn’t know yet. But he would very soon.

Snatcher did not look forward to it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

I had so much fun writing this dialogue when, in reality, dialogue is one of my weak points, alongside writing action scenes. I hope you liked this chapter ! It wasn't the longest one but it was one of them! (7 pages and approximately 3700 words).

I read all of your comments and I love every single one of them. Thank you so much for following me and my fanfictions, thank you for leaving kudos and thank you for leaving such lovely comments. It really means so much to me, I mean it.

See you on the next chapter, take care everyone ! :)

=> Chapter 13

#A Hat In Time #ahit #ahit being human #Being Human #BH #oth #oth au #Oh The Humanity AU #snatcher #ahit snatcher #cooking cat #fanfiction #ahit fanfiction #my art #doodledrawsthings #erekio #erekio bh

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loveau · 4 years

Text

You + Me = ? | Wendy

Genre: highschool!au, fluff

Word Count: 2,989

Request: Hi, there! 😁 May I request a high school!AU scenario with Wendy where the reader needs help with math and she becomes the reader’s tutor, then the reader improves in math and they fall in love and all that fluffy stuff?

Summary: While your math grade seems to be falling, it’s not the only thing that does once a pretty math tutor comes in to help you. You can only hope she’s there to catch you like she’s doing for your grade.

You curse at the dumb equations staring mockingly at you from your paper. Stupid algebra, stupid factoring, stupid polynomials. Nothing was sticking in your brain, and, at this point, it was pretty much fried. You bang your head on the desk and groan into the multiple eraser markings sticking on your cheek.

Yeah, you totally shouldn’t have convinced the counselor to let you take that extra elective instead of the math class. The entire year’s worth of not doing math had been both a blessing... and a curse. You sat in a class of mostly sophomores as the only junior taking that algebra course. It stung your pride to sit there staring at a low mark as they seemed to be passing with ease.

The only other junior in the class was the TA, and she stops by with a concerned look. However, one glance at your half done worksheet (with most of the answers wrong, by the way) she concludes that you’re frustrated and need help.

“Hey,” she calls. At this you put your head up and come face to face with her. “Do you need help with this? I can tutor you after school if you’d like to get help outside of class.”

“Oh my gosh, really, Wendy?! You’re literally an angel!” She smiles at you, only proving further to you that she not only acts like an angel, but she looks very much like one too.

She waves you off dismissively, but the red in her cheeks shows that she appreciates the comment. One look at your paper shows her that you really were in need of the help. No offense, of course, but the factoring you had done so far somehow led you to completely get rid of the variables. While this led to much confusion on her part where to begin, she was amused by your doodles on the page.

“You draw?” You peer down to see what she’s referring to. There’s small little sketches of your favorite characters from some show you were currently watching. A slight flush of embarrassment moves across your cheeks, as if it were a crime to like your shows. However, you just shrug to play it off cool.

“Kind of... I usually do this when I’m bored.” You realize that you’ve just admitted one of the reasons why you are behind in class. Wendy only reassures you with a smile, deciding not to point that out if she caught it at all.

She tries to help you as much as she can before the period’s over. You’re much too distracted by the curve of her bangs over her forehead and wonder how she must have done it. Done what? You know... looking so effortlessly stunning. You’re well aware of how she uses a hair curler in her bangs sometimes. You’ve seen it at lunch a couple times when she’s laughing loudly with her friends, but you could never bring yourself to look away.

About to be caught again, you quickly busy yourself with whatever problem you left off on. Wendy watches you for a couple more moments before deciding that she should start packing up and taking some last minute questions. You’re scribbling down the answers to the next couple of questions and she makes a mental note to check in with you later. In the mean time, she hopes you don’t mistake her number she wrote on the corner of your page for some polynomial without variables.

Luckily you caught it fairly quickly before the school day ended, when you had decided to continue your doodling on a previous sheet. And just like that, you were meeting Wendy after school to go over your homework that you had completed in class. Nerves began building up inside of you. Both at the idea of seeing Wendy again, but also... her relation to your math class reminded you of an upcoming test. As well as your low grade. It wasn’t that bad per se, but it wasn’t exactly ideal. You were bordering from a C+ to a B- and you knew you’d be in for it if your parents saw that as a final grade.

Your leg bounces as you wait by one of the lunch tables, and it distracts you so much that you miss the text from Wendy that she’s on her way and should only be another minute. By the time you’ve formulated your runaway plan and to make sure your FBI agent can’t track you down when you fail your next test, Wendy arrives with a chipper smile and taking a seat right next to you. Immediately her smiles drops at your worried face.

“Hey, are you alright? We don’t have to be meeting up right now if you don’t want to.”

“No! You’re fine.” Her concerned eyes don’t stop trying to figure out what’s eating you until it clicks.

“You’re worried about next week’s test, right?” You nod and Wendy pats your shoulder. However, she doesn’t take her hand away and instead squeezes your shoulder so that you feel the warmth through your shirt. You’re not that surprised to find that warmth has spread all throughout your body as well. “I can totally help you with that! I often see you looking frustrated in class but didn’t want to pester you. I figured today wouldn’t hurt.”

You shake your head and find that you were grateful she stepped up today. You could never with how preoccupied you were with trying to reteach yourself concepts as well as her being almost intimidatingly pretty. If it wasn’t obvious, your crush on her really made you freeze up. You remember developing your crush on her in your sophomore year, when the two of you shared a literature class together. The two of you got to interact some, but not much. What stood out to you was the reenactment of Romeo and Juliet where she played Romeo and you read the part of Juliet. Her character building and voice somehow made you feel as if you were really Juliet, easily swooning by her love confessions. You really began to daydream that they were real... and in modern english.

“If I bomb this next test, then I’m easily set to get a solid C instead of a C+. I have almost an 81 in the class, but just barely.”

Wendy hums and fixes her ponytail to stall while she thinks. Suddenly she brightens up and snaps her fingers. “Have you thought about doing the extra credit? It could definitely bring your grade up to an 85 at least! It can act as a safety net in case you do poorly on the test, but I won’t let that happen!”

“How so?” She takes your hands into hers and looks you earnestly in the eyes.

“Starting today, I will tutor you everyday to make sure you feel prepared and confident for the test. It doesn’t have to be just after school either. We can meet at lunch, during class, before school, or any time we can work it out. I promise you I will be there for you so that you don’t fail.” Your heart beats a little quicker at her promise, but the intensity also adds butterflies to your stomach. You can only nod in response and realize you’ve been holding your breath by the time she turns around to get some papers out. “Here, I keep these on me in case anyone approaches me outside of class for help. These are some of the extra credit sheets that’ll help you. They also pertain to the test so it’s a double whammy.”

She helps you get started on the sheets, telling you they’re honestly easy points to boost your grade. They really are with how much time Wendy spends talking you through the concept and making sure you’re not iffy on a problem. It’s like this the rest of the week. However, you also realize she’s been super affectionate once you get a problem right or giving herself whatever excuse to get as close as possible.

Sometimes her pencil might roll away from her as you work and she allows it to roll far enough so that it hits you. She either brushes her fingers against your hand or arm or she purposely touches her fingers loosely against yours if you happen to pick it up before she does. Some comments or corrections she makes on your paper also come in the form of hearts. It’s hard for you to keep your cool when she is being playfully flirty with you, but it also saddens you that it’ll most likely no longer happen once the week is over and you’ve taken your test.

“Here,” she interrupts during your last session on Friday. The two of you are sitting together at lunch and she decides to write down some problems for you to practice.

“Wendy, this is basic math. I did this in, like, second grade.”

“I just want to warm up your brain. Go ahead!” You look back down at the 2+2 written on the paper. Once you write down a hesitant 4, Wendy adds more simple math problems to your paper. The lunch bell rings signaling that you get to your next class. “Make sure to do the last one! I’ll see you next Monday on test day. Oh! And make sure to text me on the weekend if you have any questions.”

You’re too busy packing up to see what she’s written on your paper, but you assume it was something like 1+1. You figure that she must be doing this to reassure you and give you a slight break since all you’ve been doing is working on factoring for the past couple of days. By the time you get into your history class, a friend of yours points to the paper on the top of your notebook.

“How’s it going with Miss-I’m-too-pretty-to-make-you-function?”

“Shut up, it’s not like I’ll be seeing her after the test. She’s just tutoring me.”

“But you said the touches-”

“I’m overthinking it. It’s fine.” They roll their eyes at your dismissiveness. You’d been trying to swallow down the crush over the past couple of days, but Wendy honestly made it too hard. Her subtle touches and words of encouragement did nothing but make you hopeful. It also didn’t help that her bright smile plagued your mind whenever you went home and you were... looking forward to going to your math class.

“Hey, I think you’re overthinking the part where you think you have no chance.”

“That’s because I don’t.” They tap your paper and say otherwise. You’re unable to question them since they turn away to focus on the teacher beginning the lesson. You try to focus on the material about some revolution somewhere, but you can only focus on running through equations, the quadratic formula, perfect squares, and Wendy in your mind.

She stays on your mind the entire weekend as well, and you’re worried about the material even though you’ve run through it so many times you can practically do it in your sleep. On test day, you’re so focused on your work that you can’t even bring yourself to look at Wendy in fear of all your work together going to waste or seeing her be disappointed. But her quick squeeze of your hand as she passes by while handing out the tests lets you know that she’s rooting for you. She doesn’t mention the last problem she wrote down for you on that Friday. You don’t mention it either because you forgot.

It feels like time flies by so quickly, and you practically run up to the front desk to turn in your test. You’re unsure how to feel about it and wring your hands nervously. Wendy gives you a thumbs up with a determined look while mouthing “You did it. You made it through.” The gleam in her eyes sets your heart fluttering with all the confidence she has in you. It makes you disappointed that soon the two of you would part ways just like you had after the brief interaction during your Romeo and Juliet reading. However, Wendy makes sure to continuously check in with you about the material of the test to see what you thought of it.

The day you get your test back, Wendy looks just as nervous as you. It’s been only two days since the test, and your teacher has graded the test faster than normal. You look at Wendy while your hands are balled up into fists on the top of your desk. She’s biting her lip and you can she her feet are kicking at the floor in anticipation. It looks like she’s running while sitting, and you wish you could do just that. Run. The teacher has her pass the tests back while they begin writing up some commonly missed questions. Before they could, they call for Wendy’s attention right before she reached your row of desks.

“Wendy, could you pass me one of the tests? I can’t find my answer key.” She nods and immediately hands one of the tests over. Once she’s finished passing out the tests you realize whose test is up with the teacher. Ah, how fickle fate seems to be with you. Wendy realizes that she’s passed your test up when she looks over at you and your anxious form trying your best to peer at the front of the paper by the board. She hadn’t seen your score either, which makes her just as anxious as you. From where you were, you couldn’t figure out what red marks meant what on your test.

The rest of the period was spent with you writing down all the right answers on your test just in case you got something wrong and you could figure out why, hopefully with Wendy’s help. Throughout the class, the two of you had been communicating with nervous looks while trying to put each other at ease at the same time. It didn’t work for both of you since you had started biting your nails and she was picking at threads of her sweater. You absolutely hate that the test review spent the entire period. Especially the fact that the teacher asked to see you when the class ended. Dread fills you when you hear the bell ring. Your footsteps seem heavier as you walk up to the front desk.

Wendy wanted to hang back, she really did, but she knew that it’d be better to respect your privacy and head out with the students. She waits for you to come out and you find her tapping her foot to a song in the middle of the hall. The second you spot her you squeal and throw your arms around her.

“Oh my gosh, Wendy!”

“What’d you get? How did you do? Are you okay? I’m so nervous, I didn’t even know it was your test!”

You shake your head and show her the test. You got nearly full marks, some rounding errors or accidentally using the wrong amount of sigfigs cost you a couple points, but not enough to bring it lower than an A.

“I can’t believe you practically saved my grade!” You’re jumping now and she’s still in your arms. It’s not a problem since she’s also jumping along with you with a large smile on her face. You pull away with a frown.

“What’s wrong now? Did your grade not rise enough to where you thought it was?” There’s panic in her voice and you’re quick to deny her question, but a pout remains on your lips.

“I won’t get to hang out with you anymore since I won’t need any more tutoring...” Wendy pauses for a second and looks as if she’s trying to find something in your eyes.

“... Did you see the last problem I gave you on Friday?” You think back on it and return her questioning gaze.

“You gave me basic addition. Are you telling me I need to work on what I learned in elementary school?” She shakes her head quickly and asks if you still have the paper, to which you nod your head since you haven’t cleaned your binder yet. She has you take it out and you’re about to tell her you’re not that bad at math until you see the problem she wrote.

Underneath the 2+2, 4+4, 3+7, and 1+9...

You + Me = ?

You look up at her and she smiles, but it’s wavering. She’s nervous about your reaction, but she’s somewhat relieved. She thought you had seen it and decided to ignore it, thinking she was weird or that you were trying not to be mean by rejecting that.

“What... Wendy, does this mean what I think it does?” Wendy puts on an air of fake confidence and takes a pencil out.

“Well, it’s simple really. You, that’s you, plus me, Wendy, equals...” She trails off and begins to write on the paper. A little drawing of a heart takes place at the end of the equation and you can only look at her in shock. She decides that it’s now or never to explain what it meant. “I was just... too nervous to approach you since I didn’t want to scare you away thinking I was there to bug you about getting help. I thought you were really cute at the beginning of the year, and after I finally got to talk to you I started developing a crush... I really worked the courage up to write that.”

You look back down at the heart and can’t help but smile at her. Wendy smiles hesitantly in confusion.

“You know, since it took me that long to solve such a simple problem... I think you’ll have to continue tutoring me. Why don’t we set up another study date to work on it!”

#elli writes #red velvet #wendy #red velvet imagines #red velvet scenarios #red velvet fluff #wendy imagines #wendy scenarios #wendy fluff #neutral pronouns #fluff #high school au

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