So, you have an interest in moles...

not your fault, but mine

tangerine x single mother!reader (with tangerine being paternal, I know y’all love that)

2.1k words

cw: kidnapping, brief child endangerment, a lot of swears for the wordcount

tag list:  @honestlywtfisgoingon @white-wolf-buckaroo @felhomaly @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway @georgiee-riviere @mushywutty @piechans @apieceoffabulousshit @4ng3l-0n-34rth @minjaz @starl1g4t @earth-elemental18 @luhvbot​ @underratedboogeyman @july-is-summer @vocalvixen20cp @northerngalxy​ @tangerinesgf @chaoticroaddreamerpasta @rxcently @skrrten @nightmarefeast @lost-lila​ @hardcore-flower @mrsdanieljackson

a/n: thank you to @lady-jane3​ for being my beta! if you enjoy this fic you will probably enjoy this one by @whatstruthgottodowithit​!

Tangerine has been a little bit in love with you since the two of you first met. 

Sometimes it’s pertinent for handlers to be sent on missions with their agents in the field. Insider intel and all that jazz, overseeing what’s going on. When he saw you in the hotel lobby waiting for him and his brother he was smitten with the smart black dress and look of professional interest you wore; but he was fucked when he heard you laugh at one of his jokes. 

It was enchanting. You were enchanting. 

You wriggled your way into his affections without even meaning to. You worked well with them both, and you were easy on the eyes and on the soul. Strong and capable in your own right, too. The job was easy because you were there; and when you all went out to celebrate that night it didn’t hurt that you were so receptive to Tangerine’s advances you’d ended up shagging him by the recycling bins round the back of the pub.  

The fact that you’d exchanged private numbers afterwards was a welcome surprise though. Tangerine isn’t usually the sort of bloke people are interested in having a long term relationship with, so he’d expected it to be a one-and-done sort of night. But then there you were the next week, getting coffee back in London. Like the two of you were civilised people, not involved in the business of murder for hire. 

It became a weekly thing. No more fucking, not yet anyway; just sitting there and chatting. He found himself looking forward to it each Friday. Seeing your smile, hearing your laugh again. It was a few macchiatos later you dropped the bomb. 

“If this is going to be a thing, you’d better know I have a daughter.”

He peered at you from over the ceramic rim of his coffee cup. 

“Right.”

“If it’s a problem, we call it here. She’s the most important thing to me. I like you a lot, Tangerine, but if a single parent is too much for you to handle I need to know now. So you don’t break my heart.”

You were upfront about it and he respected that. Maybe if you were anyone else he’d turn tail and run at that announcement. 

But you weren’t anyone else. You were you. Gorgeous, wonderful you. 

“That’s alright with me.”

The grin you gave him made him know he’d made the right choice. 

Then the moment he’d been bricking it over came. After a few evening dates and a couple of dalliances with you in local hotels, he was introduced to your daughter. She was a shy, quiet girl of six, who hid behind you and peeked out at him from the safety of her mum as a shield. 

“This is my friend Tangerine, love. Are you going to say hello?”

When she shook her head and hid her face in your shirt, Tangerine knew he was in for an uphill battle. But he’d fight it, for you. 

It was like trying to dig a tunnel through an iceberg with a spoon. The process was long and tiring. But he always made sure to be thankful whenever he was invited along to one of your days out with your daughter, to be given a chance to be part of the family. 

Your daughter is cautious. It sounds like you had a nasty breakup with her dad, and you never discuss it much - but your little one has trouble trusting new men because of it, it seems. But as the ice starts to melt around her he finds himself loving her as much as he loves you. 

He knows he can’t buy someone’s affections. But when he shells out an eye-watering amount for a stuffed dinosaur at the Natural History Museum and your daughter beams at him, he thinks it might be alright to cheat a bit. 

She might be quiet, but she’s concise when she speaks; pithy and never using more words than she needs to. Still she has that same intensity many young children do. She reminds him of Lemon, actually, back when they were kids: sincere to a fault, but affectionate in her own way. 

When she first held his hand in a crowd out in public, Tangerine grinned harder than when he heard West Ham got into the FA Cup final (didn’t win though, did they? Fucking Liverpool). Maybe he didn’t sign on to have a kid in his life, but he can’t help but feel incredibly lucky it ended up happening. And sitting with you cozied up on one side of him and your daughter falling asleep on his arm on the other, he’s even more surprised that he’s genuinely happy.

He heads to your house with a bouquet of flowers for you and a toy in garish packaging for your daughter. Oh, he’s going to earn points for this one - she never asked for it outright, but he’s seen the way she lights up whenever the advert comes on the telly. He’s not Lemon, but he’s still smart enough to pick up on these things.

And you’ll be pleased she’s happy, of course. And when you’re pleased it usually leads to him being pleased later that night.

But the blood in Tangerine’s veins freezes when he sees your door is ajar. You don’t leave it open, ever, and he can hear his heartbeat thunder when he nudges it and sees broken glass behind.

He drops the toy, and the flowers burst into petals on the concrete as he runs inside. 

It’s a mess. The coffee table is shattered, furniture has been overturned - and, fuck, there’s blood on the carpet. Signs of a struggle.

He shouts for you at the top of his lungs, for your daughter, sweeping the house and checking anywhere someone could be hiding. He comes up empty. Fuck. Fuck! How could he let this happen? 

Dazed, he heads into your bedroom. Sits on the bed. Fishes his phone out of his pocket, numbly taps your number to dial it. 

He doesn’t hear your phone go in the house. It rings off to voicemail. 

Right. Okay. Right. You must have it with you. That’s something.

Adrenaline surging through his body, he checks to see if your location is turned on. It is. Whatever happened, you made sure to know you could be found.

He stands up, clenches his fist so hard his knuckles turn white, and starts to call Lemon as he leaves.

You wake up to the taste of metal in your mouth. Christ, your head hurts. It’s a sharp ache that reverberates around your skull. Something sticky is running down from your forehead and has gummed your left eye shut, but you look around with your right the best that you can.

Some sort of warehouse. Of course. How original. Things begin to come back to you: the men smashing your door in, the couple you managed to deal with before you were overwhelmed. Your hand still hurts from the punch you delivered to someone’s nose, and you remember the satisfying crunch it made. Oh, god - and your daughter trying to run away but getting caught -

You call her name and you feel a shuffling against your back; you try to move before you realise you’ve been restrained. Hands bound behind you, ankles tied to chair legs. With a groan you crane your neck as far as it will go to take a look.

Your daughter comes to, groggy. You can just about make out her familiar shape in your periphery. If they’ve harmed a single hair on her head, you’re going to set this fucking building alight with every cunt who did this still inside. 

“Love?”

She lets out a little sob of terror. 

“Mum, what happened?”

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

She takes a moment to answer, her voice shaking.

“I’m… I’m okay, I think.”

You hope she’s telling the truth, and not just lying to seem brave for you. It’s not like you can turn around and check, is it?

Alright, one thing at a time. You test the restraints. No luck, shit. They’re done tight. With multiple zip ties it feels like. It’s a chore to steady your breathing but you manage to do it, and talk yourself through what you remember.

They burst in, attacked you mostly in silence, but they were talking as they choked you out - about what? Focus, focus. 

Oh, fuck. A sentence comes back to you.

‘Let’s see how he likes it when he finds out we have his bird.’

Tangerine. This is all about Tangerine.

You hold back stupid tears. Crying isn’t going to solve anything, is it? But you want to, though. You want to cry over being weak enough to get fucking kidnapped, at being enough of a vulnerability to Tangerine that they’d take you to hurt him, that you got your daughter mixed up in all of this.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The door at the end of the warehouse space swings open. A man crosses over, a balaclava obscuring his face. Despite it all you can’t help but let out a little laugh - how fucking old school, you half expect him to whip out an Anonymous mask.

“Not sure what you’re having a giggle at, love. Seems to me there’s not anything funny about the situation you’re in.”

“Oh, what do you fucking want?” you snap, squaring up the best you can under the circumstances. Keep a brave face for her. The man rolls his eyes. 

“Well, darling, a very nasty man likes to get his end away with you. So we figured you’d be a useful bargaining chip when dealing with him. See, he’s pissed off the wrong person, and they’re interested in making sure he pays dearly for it. And the fact you arrange his little missions means this is a two-for-the-price-of-one deal.”

Your daughter whimpers. You bare your teeth at him.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do for me, but let her go. She didn’t do anything, she’s a child.”

The man rolls his eyes.

“What, so she can go running straight to him to tell him where you are? Don’t think so, sweetheart. No, much better to make sure she’s here. Safe. With us.”

He grins and it makes you feel sick. You open your mouth to lay into him, but a beeping from the walkie-talkie at his belt stops you. He grabs it and turns his back to you. 

“What?”

There’s the unmistakable sound of gunfire on the other end.

“Oh, fuck, they’re -” is as far as the speaker gets, before he’s cut off with a bloody gargle. The man freezes for a moment, but he’s been distracted long enough - you’ve managed to wiggle one foot free from your restraints and you bring it up as hard as you can between his legs. The man screeches in agony and drops to the floor.

You call for your daughter and tell her to work on her bindings. You feel her struggle behind you. She’s small, maybe she’ll be nimble enough to get free…

The man gets back up all too quickly. 

“You bitch,” he spits, and pulls out a knife from around his back. You feel the blood leave you.

Please don’t kill me in front of my daughter.

Any further action he was going to take, however, is somewhat interrupted by the fact a quarter of his head explodes all over you as a bullet flies through it. He looks shocked for a moment before collapsing for the last time.

They’re here. Tangerine and Lemon are dishevelled, covered in blood, and looking worse for wear - but they’re here. Tangerine lowers his gun and runs over to you, dropping to his knees to check you over.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, get her!” you say, motioning back towards your daughter. Tangerine doesn’t need telling twice. He picks up the abandoned knife and starts working on freeing the little girl behind you, as Lemon finishes closing the distance to help you.

You hear your daughter sob in relief and see Tangerine stagger back as she launches herself into his arms.

“Dad!” she cries, burying her little face in his neck. Tangerine doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him properly dumbstruck: standing there, covered in blood and holding your child with wide eyes. 

“That’s a lot to unpack,” Lemon mutters with a smile as he finishes letting you go. You stand up and give him a tight hug.

“Am I glad to see your ugly mugs,” you sigh. 

“Oi, easy! If you want to keep kissing this ugly mug,” Tangerine says, and it makes your daughter giggle even if she doesn’t loosen her grip.

A bubble of laughter escapes from your lips. Pure relief. Oh, fuck, this could have been bad. It wasn’t though.

Not when you’ve got your boys around to watch your back.

Burnout

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: Working nonstop leaves Clay officially exhausted. Too bad he doesn’t know when to call it quits. Luckily for him, you do.

Warnings: depictions of anxiety + exhaustion + burnout

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: this was inspired by some of my own personal experiences. please get some rest if you need it. i hope you enjoy!

Clay awoke to the sound of meowing in his ear and a paw prodding at his cheek.

Letting out a small groan, he shifted, vaguely aware that his cheek was pressed against something cold. He reached up in front of his face, his fingertips meeting soft fur. He blinked an eye open, his hand rubbing at his bleary vision. Little by little, the fogginess slowly parted to reveal Patches’ olive green eyes peering back at him. The moment his gaze met hers, she meowed, swiping at his face again.

“Stop,” he croaked, surprising himself by how dry his mouth was. Almost immediately, Patches took a step back, meowing once more at him before hopping off the table and vanishing from his line of sight.

He raised a hand to his throat, swallowing uncomfortably. Slowly, he lifted his head from the desk, taking in the sight of his desk set-up. While his monitor was dark, it was his laptop that was lighting up the cluttered mess that had become his studio. Off to his right sat his green water bottle.

Right. His water bottle had been empty for—

His eyes darted to the clock, squinting. The numbers 1:47 AM flashed back at him.

—six hours.

When did I knock out? he wondered to himself, rubbing at his temples. Two hours ago? He shook his head. Well, doesn’t matter, now. Gotta finish the new plug-in.

He reached over, nudging his mouse with his elbow. The moment his cursor moved, his monitor came to life, light flooding the dimness of his room. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the glaring brightness of the screen with the back of his hand.

His code was still open, the line having cut off in the middle, the open bracket hanging wide, waiting to be completed and closed.

He grimaced, the gears already whirring in his head as he stared at the ticking clock on his screen. He needed to have the plug-in coded by tomorrow—or, well, today—so he could send it off to George for their scheduled test run. Not to mention the video he was only halfway finished editing he wanted to upload in two days’ time.

He dragged a hand over his face, a low groan rumbling in his chest. Just then, there was another low growl, this time coming from his stomach. He glanced downward at his hoodie pocket, something sharp digging at his insides.

Well, first, it seemed like he would need some food.

He pushed back his chair and pushed himself onto his feet, wincing at the way his muscles ached. They were definitely sore from not having been used in god knows how long, now. With another sigh, he turned, pushing the door open to his studio before climbing the stairs.

It only took a few moments for him to find the kitchen. He fumbled with the light switch for a second before the room was suddenly flooded with light. He winced, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Oh god,” he muttered, his throat feeling raw, “it’s so bright.”

A few seconds later, he peeked through his fingers and lowered his hand, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. As soon as he could see clearly once more, he dragged himself over to the cabinet, pulling the door open to peer inside. Empty space stared back at him, and he frowned. We forgot to go grocery shopping.

A snack-size bag of chips and two cups of instant ramen stared back at him, almost tauntingly. After staring for another moment, he found himself pulling out one of the two cups, eyeing it dubiously before shrugging. It’ll do. Flipping open the kettle, he quickly filled it with some water before setting it to boil. As he waited, he grabbed a pair of chopsticks and tore open the cup cover, fishing out the flavour packet and tearing it open with his teeth. Just as he was pouring the flavour powder in, he heard a voice behind him.

“Clay?”

He froze, then felt something in his chest soften. He turned, mustering what energy he had to send you a smile. “Hi, [Y/N].” At the sight of your bleary eyes, his smile drooped. “You’re still awake?”

You yawned, holding a hand over your mouth. “Mhm. Hungry. I’m just grabbing a snack, that’s all.”

Behind him, the kettle whistled. He quickly removed the top, then turned back to send you a knowing look. “Me too.”

You strolled over to the cabinet he had looked through earlier, frowning as you let out a sigh. “I’ll go grocery shopping this weekend,” you murmured, reaching for the chips. “Anything you want?”

He cast a glance at the chips in your hand. “More chips?” he offered softly. “I dunno. I haven’t really thought about it.”

You bobbed your head and pulled the bag open, immediately sticking a chip in your mouth. Clay let the sound of chips crunching fill the air as he poured the boiling water into his noodle cup, stirring absentmindedly as you quickly finished the bag. After a few moments, he eagerly raised his chopsticks to his lips, a whirlwind of flavour filling his mouth. The noodles didn’t particularly help with the dryness of his mouth or his tiredness, but at least he wasn’t hungry anymore.

The two of you ate in silence for a while. At one point, you finished the chips and threw out the bag, but he wasn’t quite paying attention. He felt his toes curl beneath him as he shifted in an effort to keep himself awake, but he could still feel the exhaustion pulling at his ankles. He wished he was asleep, he really did.

Just then, you spoke up. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, snapping out of his tired daze. “Yeah,” he mumbled in between chews. “I’m just a bit tired.”

You pursed your lips, leaning back against the counter as you eyed him up and down. “You look more than just ‘a bit tired’, Clay.”

He swallowed, averting his gaze from yours as he focused on shoveling more noodles in his mouth. His eyelids burned, weighed down by bricks made of exhaustion. “You think so?”

You didn’t answer, only staring at him for a few moments longer as he finished the cup of ramen. He didn’t even have the strength to think about the tension pervading the air. As soon as he was finished, he set the cup down, ignoring how heavy his arm felt. He felt your eyes on his as he rinsed out the empty container before tossing it in the recycling bin. He turned, your gaze locking onto his. Irritation prickled up his spine at your expression.

“What?” he said, his tone coming out harsher than he intended. A flicker of guilt ran through him, but it quickly dissolved into weariness once more. Whatever. He was tired. It didn’t matter. Right?

To his surprise, you didn’t flinch like he thought you would. Instead, you took a small step toward him, your hand reaching up and forward tentatively. Your fingers brushed against his cheekbone, and the moment your palm met his skin, he nearly melted into your touch. How long had it been since his shoulders felt so loose? He couldn’t recall.

“Clay,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheek, “will you come to bed with me?”

His breath hitched. Sleeping? Now? He couldn’t afford it—even a single lick of sleep would throw him off entirely. He needed to finish his code and finish editing that video for the day after. He couldn’t just sleep, now.

He sent you a smile, hoping it didn’t look as sad as it felt. “Sorry, love, but I have a bit more work I have left to do.”

You blinked, your lips curling downward. Your frown bit into him harder than he would have liked. Slowly, you pulled your hand back from his cheek, something disappointing flashing in your gaze. “Okay,” you said quietly, turning to walk out of the kitchen. “Please go to sleep soon, though, alright?”

He nodded, but the action didn’t fully register in his head as he watched you disappear from his line of sight. Already, he missed your warmth against his face, and he had half the mind to change his mind and go to bed with you right then and there.

But the deadline hanging over his head wrapped a fraction tighter around his throat, whispering into his ear like a menace. “You don’t have time.”

Indeed, he didn’t.

Shutting the kitchen lights off, he slipped back down the stairs once more, striding back into his studio. He collapsed into his chair with a grunt, shaking his mouse as his monitor came back to life. He cracked his knuckles once before settling his hands back on the keyboard, focusing his attention back on the open bracket once more.

He wasn’t sure how much time he spent typing, opening and closing Google as he ran into bug after bug. The longer he stared at the screen, the more his brain felt like it was slowly getting the life sucked out of it. He had only completed another dozen lines of code or two when something tore him out of his focus.

“Clay.”

His thoughts came to a jarring halt in his head. He turned, spotting you leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest. A concerned expression was plastered to your face, and he nearly fell out of his chair. “[Y/N]? Why are you still up?” His eyebrows knit together. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I sent George a text,” you said abruptly, your eyes scanning his face with a wary look, “and he said he doesn’t mind doing the test run another day.”

Clay’s mouth fell open, a wave of shock rolling over him. You... what? Swallowing, he closed it, shaking his head slightly. Just because he didn’t need to finish the code didn’t mean he still didn’t have any work to do. “I still have to finish the video—”

“You can finish that another day, too,” you suddenly said, your eyes not leaving his. He saw your fingers curl into your pyjamas. “You know your fans will love it no matter when it comes out.”

Something welled up inside of him, something hard and cold that dug straight through his bones. “B-But...”

You simply tilted your head at him, a weary look crossing your face. “But what, Clay? Is there anything else?”

He paused for a moment, a pebble of shame dropping into his stomach as he shook his head. “No,” he admitted quietly. His heart burned uncomfortably between his lungs. “But I could always get a head start on—“

“Clay,” you said sharply, not missing the way he jumped, “don’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?” You lowered your arms and your voice grew quiet, something pained flitting across your features. “This is killing you.”

He stared at you, the light of his monitor making your face glow in the dimness of his studio. As much as he tried, he couldn’t think of another rational justification for staying up. He had no other immediate tasks, no other projects he needed to work on in this moment. He had no reason to stay awake any longer.

And yet, deep down, something anxious and angry thrashed in his gut. Sleeping now just felt wrong. It was almost as though it was a crime, as though he would somehow fail if he didn’t keep working. After all, if he didn’t keep working, then what kind of creator was he?

But the longer he stared at you, taking in the sight of your pleading eyes and worried frown, he felt something else overtake him entirely. A different kind of sinking feeling settled over his shoulders, and he swallowed.

“[Y/N],” he said honestly, suddenly feeling vulnerable and very, very sad, “I’m tired.”

Your gaze softened, and he almost wanted to cry. “I know,” you said, soft and sincere.

With quiet steps, you made your way over to him, stopping just in front of him. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against your stomach as he let out a shaky breath. You didn’t move, simply raising a hand to pat his head. For a few moments, he simply leaned against you, feeling his eyes sting and burn with a mixture of fatigue and sadness. Was he really that tired?

“You put too much responsibility on your own shoulders, Clay,” you murmured, your hand leaving his head. “You’re allowed to be your own person. You’re allowed to spend time to yourself. You’re allowed to take care of yourself—you need to.”

You pulled back slightly, and he raised his head. His lungs felt like they had tied themselves into a knot in his chest, but the moment his eyes met yours, he could suddenly breathe clearly again.

“Please,” you said, “come to bed with me.”

He blinked. Then, he nodded. “Okay.”

He didn’t miss the smile that stretched across your face as you reached over to save his code, turning off his monitor. As soon as the studio filled with darkness, you slipped your hand into his, tugging him out of his chair and up the stairs. He didn’t remember walking into the bathroom, but you were suddenly shoving his toothbrush in his hand.

“I’ll wait for you in our room,” you said, “okay?”

He nodded again, still too dazed to fully comprehend anything. He only half remembered brushing his teeth, spitting out the toothpaste as he rinsed out his mouth in the sink. Before he knew it, he was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, his eyelids already drooping. You were sitting on the bed, your legs curled beneath you and the blankets pulled back for him.

The moment he stepped inside, you lifted your chin, tilting your head at him. “You done?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but cut himself off with a yawn. Wiping at his blurring vision, he nodded. “Mhm.”

The pleased grin you sent him made his heart swell with affection. “Perfect.” You patted the space in front of you. “C’mere.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, he walked forward and climbed onto the bed, settling his head back against the pillow as you pulled the sheets up over him. After a few seconds of shifting, he finally settled down, his shoulders sagging as he let the tightness seep out of his body and into the bed.

“Comfy?” you asked softly, your voice washing over him like a soothing melody.

He shifted his head slightly, his legs curling further into the warm blankets. “Very.”

He could only imagine the soft smile on your face, a fond look filling your eyes. “When’s the last time you slept before four o’clock?”

He thought for a moment. If he had the energy, he would have shrugged. “Can’t remember. Must have been a month ago, or something.”

He could hear the frown in your voice. “That’s not healthy, Clay.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, feeling his lips curl slightly. “Probably.”

There was a slight pause, then he felt your hand in his hair. In an instant, he had melted into putty on the mattress, tilting his head slightly toward you. “You can only run on sheer passion for so long,” you murmured, dragging your fingers through his hair. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. “People need rest. And good food. And warm hugs. And love.”

He blinked, slow and lazy. “Love?” he repeated.

You hummed. “Yeah.” Dipping your head, you pressed a kiss beside his ear, whispering, “Lots and lots of love.”

He nodded ever so subtly, his head sinking further and further into his pillow. “Love,” he whispered back, caught in a dreamlike haze.

Your fingers scratched against his scalp, and he let out a tiny sigh. “You still with me?”

“Mm,” he mumbled, “not really.”

Your hand stilled for a moment, then carried on. “Good. Go to sleep, Clay.” He could hear the soft smile in your voice. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He said something back, or at least he thought he did, but he had drifted too far to care at that point.

This was nice. He missed this.

That night, Clay fell asleep with your hands in his hair and a smile on his face—feeling warm, safe, and oh-so loved.

Something Old and Something New — Part Three

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: angst, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, arguing, fluff

Today was the day.

The day your best friend Sam would be back in town any minute now. The day you’d see the expression to match the words he’d spoken to you on the phone just a few nights back. You told him about Stanford, about the way you felt uncertain of your return there and the way you felt about finishing your degree. Of the way you felt you might not have wanted to go there in the first place. Well, you did, but the beginning always seemed to be different.

But you told him. You finally broke it to him after days and days of stewing on it since you’d come back home, after days and weeks and months of letting it simmer back at college. No matter how much you gave yourself a pep talk for that conversation, told yourself it’d be fine and no matter how many deep breaths you took, you still found yourself shaking as you held your phone to your ear.

He was just as understanding as you thought he’d be, a quality Sam Winchester had that would never falter. You could hear it in the way he sighed on the other end, not one of disappointment but one sounding as though he’d already known this phone call was going to happen. You were sure he did, you don’t think you were great at hiding your discontent, but it only did so much to soothe your nerves on the subject. Because truthfully, it was still a big deal, still a big decision that you seemingly already made for yourself without having gone through with it.

But the weight that sat heavy on your shoulders felt a little lighter, that tension easing a little more.

Now, now you’re at Benny’s house, lights strung from the back porch just waiting to be switched on in the evening hours. The ones he’d used each and every time an event like this happened in the warmer months. The grill was going and cooking some of the best food you’d ever have, the smell of it filling the air and making its way into the house. Lawn chairs were set up in the backyard as family and friends made their way in until the whole group had arrived and filled the late Saturday afternoon air with the boisterous cheer that came with them.

Mary had brought her family famous homemade apple pies, a slice already taken out of one of them with only Dean to blame. There’s no way he would admit to it on his own despite being the pie enthusiast of the bunch, not a chance, but you knew by the scent of cinnamon on his breath when he hugged you, by the residue you swiped from the corner of his mouth that it was him. Mary knew just by the look on her son’s face, getting him a light smack to the back of his head for digging in.

Bobby had brought more than enough beer and Jody just the same but you were sure the accidental blunder wouldn’t be a problem with this group.

It was shaping up to be a nice afternoon, the sun shining goldenly and the fresh air warm, a gentle breeze sifting through at just the right speed. The garage was closed for the weekend, offering a little break from some work for the first time in a few weeks. Benny’s old radio sat tucked on the back porch, classic rock playing as expected but it was more so playing softly in the background of everyone’s conversations more than anything at that point.

You wouldn’t miss these occasions for anything.

It wasn’t until then that your eyes laid on the younger Winchester as he walked out of the back door to join everyone else, a grocery bag of chips and pretzels in his hand and a smile on his face at the sight of his family talking amongst themselves in the comfort of the yard.

You were the first to get on your feet and hug him, arms tight around him and he nearly dropped the stuff in his hand. It was safe to say you missed him over the time you’d spent away from Stanford, and you were sure that much was obvious.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me,” he chuckles, his free arm wrapping around you. You squeeze him all the more tightly, a hum having been your response as your smile stays the same. “And here I thought you abandoned me.”

You looked up at him then, lips pursed and gaze narrowed. “You know that wouldn’t happen in a million years.”

“I know, I know,” he says, eyes rolling lightheartedly as he smiles.

“Well if it isn’t my baby brother,” a voice sounds, that ever familiar voice, rumbling just behind you deeply.

“Do you have to say that every time?” Sam huffs, humor on the edge of his words as the corner of his mouth quirks up, his brow raised in an effort to maintain at least a little annoyance at his brother’s choice of words.

“You’re damn right I do. What kinda big brother do I look like?”

Sam tilted his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he set the bag down. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

The humor in Dean’s expression dwindled in that moment at Sam’s words, lips pursing before the corner of his mouth tugs upwards once more. “C’mere, Sammy.”

He tugs him in close for a hug and a pat on his back, his smile quick to return.

Things went as good as ever the more the day went on, the afternoon slipping into the evening as the burgers and barbecue rapidly became less and less until it’d been eaten. Dean had been responsible for at least three burgers and another two slices of pie, having you hot on his heels in a close second.

An old football had been tossed around, paired with a game or two of catch that’d become very close to turning competitive once Dean got ahold of his old mitt and you found yourself taking a turn up against him. Turns out you were far better than he expected, far better than you let on, and the surprise on his face had given you more than enough amusement.

You’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve and Dean was quickly starting to realize that.

Now you’d been looking for him as the sun dipped down lower in the sky, the chilly evening air beginning to take hold.

You laid your eyes on the green eyed Winchester, the one you’d found yourself wanting to see since he’d disappeared earlier that day after he gave Sam the hug you knew he’d get. You weren’t exactly sure just when it was that he’d run off, or if he even had for that matter, but your habit of scanning the room for him had left you coming up short each and every time you’d done it until now.

You caught sight of him on the back porch, the empty beer bottle in his hand being tossed in the recycling bin as he stood over the near empty cooler. It wasn’t until you’d walked up to him with crossed arms that he looked up, squinting against the setting sun to get a glimpse of you.

“Would you look who it is?” He says, digging around for the beer he likes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smile playing on his lips.

“Feel like I haven’t seen you all day, sweetheart,” he says as he swipes another beer from the cooler before closing the lid, standing upright again.

“And here I thought you’d run off ‘cause I beat you at your own game of ball,” you said, watching his eyes roll as you look up at him with a half-grin. “Seriously, what’s going on with you?”

He looked up at you briefly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as a laugh puffed out through his nose, one that’s half-humorous.

“Nothing,” he says.

You nod with a hum, entirely unconvinced as you stood there in front of him and he knew that, could tell by that look you’re giving him. You’d be right not to believe him, but he won’t admit it. He wouldn’t admit to the jealousy that simmered in the very pit of his stomach each time Sam stole your attention. He wouldn’t because he felt stupid for feeling that way. For feeling it over the fact that you’d spent most of the afternoon with Sam the moment he’d arrived.

He was your best friend, he knew it’d happen and he knew it with the way you talked about Sam, eyes bright and smile beaming at the mention of his brother. It made his stomach twist and churn and he knew it shouldn’t have, he knew he shouldn’t have been feeling that tight coil of jealousy building within himself over the mere thought of it but his mind took every scenario and ran with it. He felt childish but he couldn’t help it either.

He found himself wanting to be selfish and have you all to himself, but part of him told himself that’d be absurd. You were Y/n, the one he bickered with and the one that got on his nerves on a good day. But he knew that was changing, he knew it from the moment he started thinking about you more often than not, by the very way he enjoyed your company, having realized there might never have been a time he didn’t save for when you were kids who picked on each other.

He knew it was different and maybe that was the problem, and maybe he did run off for a little while just to ignore the way you spent time with Sam.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” you said, nudging his boot with your shoe.

“Is that right, sweetheart?” He asks, taking a sip from his beer, then another.

“Yeah, it is, Winchester,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips. You glanced over your shoulder, eyeing two empty lawn chairs across the yard. “I don’t suppose you’re too grumpy to sit with me, are you?”

Your smile widens as you watch his brows furrow, a scoff leaving his lips as you turn on your heel and head towards the chairs.

“Grumpy? Who says I’m grumpy?” He says behind you.

You sigh as you sit down, trying not to take notice of the way he pulls his chair just a little closer to your own as you sit paces away from the fire Benny and Bobby sparked up in the pit. He tucked his beer in the cup holder, crossing one ankle over the other before tipping his head back against the back of his chair, a smile on his lips.

“What?” You ask, the curiosity in your tone as you sit up a little straight.

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, head shaking as his eyes fall closed for a moment.

“Dean, spit it out,” you say, swatting lightly at his shoulder.

You watched the grin on his lips widen a fraction, lips pursing to try and hide it but failing miserably. “It seems to me like you miss my company.”

It was your turn to scoff as you rolled your eyes, “don’t get ahead of yourself, Winchester.”

But he knew better than to believe that, because you can deny it all you want but the tone in your voice says otherwise. He can hear your smile in your words, and upon stealing a glance at you, he sees that very smile as you shake your head in faux annoyance.

You tug your flannel tighter around yourself as you stretch your legs for a moment, taking notice of the way the arms of your chairs had been brushing over top of each other, of the way you’d been close enough to bump elbows. You tried not to think of the fact that he’d put himself that much closer to you on his own, for reasons you hadn’t been aware of.

You tried not to let that flutter in your stomach go awry, tried not to let it burst into more like a kid with a crush because that would simply be foolish. Tried not to dwell on the fact that he’d been sitting with you, at the way you’d made him smile, otherwise your cheeks would burn and burn, hotter than the fire in front of you.

The transition between two people determined to annoy the other to the best of their abilities, and the way the two of you acted now had been one you didn’t quite know how you got to. You came back to Kansas with dread knotting up inside your stomach at the mere mention of the older Winchester, the very thought of him having you roll your eyes. To be fair, you still do that quite a bit, but now you find yourself seeking out his company when he strays a little too far. Now you find yourself smiling like a fool in his presence in a way that has you hiding it behind wit and humor.

You had no idea he’d felt the very same way.

You looked over to him, eyes on him as he looked ahead. The glow of the fire danced across his skin, shadowing every contour of his face, illuminating the sheen of sweat glimmering lightly over the bridge of his freckled nose.

You watched as he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle in its rightful spot, his gaze shifting to you in a moment’s notice.

“What?” He asked, the single word amused as he caught you staring.

The corner of your mouth darts upward and you look away, head shaking and heart fluttering. “Nothin’.”

You heard his snort, knew he was shaking his head just as much as you were. “If anyone’s the terrible liar here, it’s you, sweetheart.”

It’s your turn to laugh as you look at your lap, a moment passing before you look over at him once more. “‘M serious. It’s nothing, De.”

“Right, right. Whatever you say.”

He caught your gaze as his smile mirrored your own, green eyes glimmering against the light of the flames just feet away as those dimples by the very corners of his mouth appear ever so slightly. The teasing behind your grin softened considerably to a genuine smile, his knee nudging yours in a lightheartedly action to accompany his words.

It wasn’t until that moment that you were aware of just how close you’d been, close enough to feel his breath sweep over your lips and to smell the cinnamon of the pie he’d eaten. Close enough to have your cheeks burning over it.

But the moment was only that.

“Y/n.” You cleared your throat as you sat a little straighter in your chair, head turning in the direction of Sam’s voice. He stood there, hand running through his hair as he suppressed a yawn. “Ready to head home for the night?”

You smiled softly at him, nodding. You missed the way the softness of Dean’s grin had fallen as his jaw tensed ever so slightly, the inside of his cheek sitting between his teeth.

You were in a daze for a brief moment as you sat on the edge of your seat before you turned to Dean, hand reaching up to grab his chin softly in a lighthearted pinch, the pad of your thumb resting over the dimple sitting pretty in it.

“Night, Dean,” you say, getting up from where you sat with him.

He smiles softly, swallowing thickly as he watches you stand there. He swallowed down that feeling bubbling up and threatening to spill out. Because it was him that you rode with to Benny’s house that day, listening to Zeppelin with the windows down. It was him that you’d been seemingly content with riding along with, and it was him that had plans to drive you back home. And now those plans had changed and there he sat by himself as you smiled that smile at him with his brother just over your shoulder.

“Night, sweetheart.”

—

Things were different.

Things were vastly different from what they were nearly three weeks ago back at your Uncle Benny’s. And things were a whole new kind of different from the time you first came back to that very day in question when Sam had come back into town.

You don’t know what it was, couldn’t narrow down the possibilities of what could have changed between you and Dean, what could have changed him. Maybe it was something that you’d never end up knowing in the long run, and maybe it was nothing at all. Maybe the days and weeks you’d spent working alongside one another without so much of that bickering, no matter how lighthearted, was just that.

He was happy as ever to see his brother, you knew for a fact he would be because that’s how it’s always been. But ever since that get-together, it was different.

“What is your problem?”

He snorted, his laugh void of humor as he looked away, tongue swiping along the inside of his cheek that was all telling of the anger that was simmering in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t have one, sweetheart,” he says, the nickname less than fond in that moment as he tossed an empty bottle of oil in the trash to his right, taking the rag in his hand to wipe away the little bit of mess he made having been far too distracted thinking about you with that crease between his brows, that brooding frown on his lips.

You knew for a fact his words have been anything but truthful, the complete opposite as you stand in front of him, watching his attention pull from you in favor of looking under the hood of the car he’d been working on. A job that easily could have been done by now had his mind not been so preoccupied with the very person who’d asked him what his problem was.

He knew you saw right through him, he was a terrible liar when it came to you and he knew that. It’s not like it hadn’t been so terribly obvious that he had one, it was just as close to saying he did without actually saying it.

You saw it with the way he didn’t linger at the front desk as often to talk to you, to swipe the candy you’d had in that jar you kept just to see you roll your eyes. You saw it with the way he’d struck up fewer conversations, more about work and less about personal talk. At the crease etched deeper between his brows and the dimples pressed at the corners of his mouth in a display of his discontent. It was different and it was quiet.

Actions all staved off by the occasional smile. He still brought you coffee and he still waited for you to drive off first at closing time. But it was lined with an edge of tension.

“You’re lying,” you say, brows furrowing as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m not lying, Y/n. I’m busy,” he mumbles, tugging his hand away and shaking it out when his finger gets poked by a jagged car part.

“You’re being weird, Dean,” you press, insistent to pull whatever he’s got going on out of him to talk about it. He is acting weird and you know it. If the days and weeks and months and years you’d known Dean Winchester, he hasn’t quite acted like this.

He straightens his stance a bit more as he turns to face you with a glance on the brink of being annoyed, a huff blowing past his lips. You simply raise your brow in your own persistence, lips pursed lightly.

“Are you done?”

“Not until you tell me why you’re acting weird. And don’t tell me there’s nothing ‘cause I know you a little better than that,” you say, watching his brows drop from how they were raised, those very dimples by his mouth deepening as he stands mere inches from you and casts his gaze down at you.

“Just having an off day. ‘S that a good enough answer for you, sweetheart?” He asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“No,” you say. You watch as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, turning in his heel with a chuckle as he continues his work. “Considering you’ve been like this ever since Benny’s barbecue, it’s not a good enough answer.”

“Then tell me, Y/n. My baby brother came home from college for the first time in months. Do enlighten me on what it was that day that could possibly make me Oscar the Grouch,” he says, flashing you a look.

You heave a sigh, heavy and impatient as you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling as though you’re going in circles with no end in sight. His stubbornness was stronger than ever in that moment as he brushed everything off, as he acted nonchalant despite the clear irritation simmering away within him.

“Would it kill you to be straightforward, Dean?” You ask, your own annoyance wrapping around every word. “Seriously, what’s your problem?”

“Why don’t you ask Sammy?” He says, voice low and muffled from where he stood facing away from you.

You frown in confusion at the question. “What?”

“I said why don’t you ask Sammy?” He repeats, and now you’re sure you heard him correctly as he turns his head but still avoids your gaze.

You try to make sense of what he’d just said, standing still in your spot as you watch his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the car’s front end. Of the crease between his brows and the tension increasing in his jaw that told you he wasn’t joking, that he was in fact very serious.

It took a second, a minute even, before it clicked for you. “Wait a minute, are you jealous?”

He laughs then, bitter as he wipes the grease from his hands on the tattered rag he kept tucked in his back pocket.

“You think I’m jealous of my brother?” He says, tone full of a surprise you knew wasn’t real.

“Yeah, Dean, I do,” you say, gazing up at him. “You’ve been acting weird ever since I told you Sam was coming home to visit, and now it makes sense why.”

“Easy there, detective. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he says, trying his hardest to stave off the way his heart had been hammering in his chest and the way he wanted so badly to admit that maybe he was, even though it’d been painfully obvious.

He wouldn’t though, he’d keep being stubborn because he felt that was in his best interest to be.

“You always do this,” you huff, your frustration evident.

“Do what?”

“You keep skirting around the obvious, Dean. You always do that when you don’t want to talk about something. I know that about you. You can say otherwise all you want, I don’t really care,” you say, voice rising slightly in your anger as you feel your cheeks burn. Your chest heaved a bit more than normal, heart pounding in your chest as you stared up at him. “Why can’t you just admit it?”

His gaze on you is stoic, nostrils flaring and lips still pursed as he looks down at you. The flurry of emotions he felt was a little harder to see outwardly, but you knew they were there. You knew it just like you knew there had to be a myriad of thoughts running through his head, but what they’d been about was something you didn’t.

Moments passed like that, seconds, until his expression changed, a humorless chuckle rumbling in the back of his throat as he shook his head.

“For not wanting to be a lawyer, you damn sure know how to argue,” he said, a bite behind his words that had your cheeks burning hotter.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, partly out of surprise at his words, and partly to stave off the tears that pressed heavily behind your eyes the more you thought about them. The hurt you felt in that moment had struck you harder than you cared to admit, not so much at his dig as the very fact that you were arguing with him to begin with.

It wasn’t unlike the two of you to toss around witty comments about the other, to bicker over anything, most often lightheartedly. The two of you had been like that with each other your entire lives. But this, this was different. It was different because you enjoyed his company more often than not. It was different because you knew you didn’t hate him, you don’t think you ever did.

“Maybe I will go back to Stanford with Sam. You know, since I’m such an outstanding lawyer.”

You watch as he nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he looked away for a moment and really thought about what you said. Of the very words spoken out of anger just to make him angry and it worked. He didn’t know the meaning of your words other than the way they fed the jealousy brewing in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that was rapidly beginning to boil over.

“That’s a great idea. Hell, I’ll even pack your bags,” he says, smug and entirely amused as he watches your brows furrow.

It wasn’t until you shook your head, it wasn’t until he saw the way your eyes glossed over and your expression turned angrier in an attempt to hide that vulnerability that his amusement dissolved. Without another word, you swiped your keys from the counter, strong-willed as you twist the doorknob and leave, slamming the door behind you.

His jaw tenses and his lip quivered under his anger, flinching at the action and fist clenching as he turned away from the door as he stood alone. Before he could give it second thought he threw the rag in his hand down, arm sweeping over his workbench and sending every tool that sat on it to clatter to the ground in a heap of metallic clinks that echoed in the empty garage. He ran his hands through his hair and drug them down his face, exhaling a huff.

He had you. He had you and he blew it.

—

Series taglist: @myloversgone @colereads @stoneyggirl2 @samsgirl93 @poptart06294

General taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath

Spring Cleaning

Sean Falco x Reader // Bad Samaritan 

and they were roommates, no.4

Prompt: We decided to deep-clean and declutter our entire apartment, can’t be too embarrassing what we find, right? Word Count: 1.1k  Warnings: none

[gif]

You were sitting with your legs crossed, a bag of trash on one side of you, a pile of old books on the other, and a box of miscellaneous paper in front. Now that you were officially into spring, you and Sean had decided it was due time you did some well needed spring cleaning. Sean’s tiny apartment didn’t allow for this much unnecessary junk. Most of your stuff had been living in boxes under Sean’s bed, your bed, that you shared, for the four months you had been living there. Sean had failed to clear out space for you and you both had been too busy to do it until now. 

“Do you really need every single stuffed toy you’ve ever owned?” Sean asked, sitting surrounded by the soft animals you had expertly packed into one box. Both of you were apparently too sentimental to clear out your own stuff so you had agreed to go through each other’s. You didn’t remember there being that many when you packed them, but seeing them spread out around him, it did seem a bit much. 

“I am sentimentally attached to every single one,” you argued, reaching for the one closest to you. You smoothed the synthetic fur of the little blue bunny, snuggling it against your cheek as you pouted at Sean. He gave you a stern look, not falling for your argument or puppy dog eyes. “Anyway, this is only what I’ve collected in the last few years. Definitely not all the ones I’ve ever owned.” 

“So not too sentimentally attached then. We can get rid of them?” 

“Fine,” you threw the bunny in his direction, which he caught before it hit his face. “Put them in the charity bag.” You turned back to the box in front of you, pulling out a pile of paper and flicking through them to see if there was anything important. They seemed to all be unpaid bills and warning letters. 

“Jesus, Sean. Are we even allowed to be living here?” You held up the pile to show him what you were referring to. 

“Those are old. I promise we’re not about to be evicted. Bin them.” You did that, considering that maybe you should’ve gotten a second bag for recycling, and digging back into the box. This time you grabbed a bunch of old greeting cards. There didn’t seem to be anything particularly special about them and you thought it was cute that he had kept them all, curiously flipping open the top one to read what was inside. 

“My gorgeous Sean,” you read aloud. “I hope you have the kind of birthday that makes you feel as special as you are to me. Wishing you well, have a great day. With love from Mum, Don and Rowan. Aww that’s sweet.” 

“Why are you reading them? Just throw them away!” Sean reached out to grab them, almost falling as he was too far away. His cheeks were tinged pink as you laughed at his embarrassment. You flipped open the next one and began to read it. 

“Sean! Happy birthday! I love you so much, I can’t imagine how my life would be without you in-” you cut yourself off as your eyes skimmed over the name at the bottom. Riley. You quickly closed the card, looking down at the front of it. From the silence it was obvious that Sean had recognised the message, and you felt like such an idiot. “You don’t want to keep any of these?” 

“No,” he replied, his voice gruff. It was clear this box hadn’t been looked in for ages, so obviously there was going to be a card from his ex, how could you be so stupid to read it out without checking who it was from? You threw the whole pile into the bag, quickly glancing over to Sean, seeing that he had gone back to rounding up the toys, the jokes and laughter replaced by a heavy silence. You went back to the box, reaching for the remainder of the cards to throw them away, but as you lifted them out one card fell from the pile. It was a picture card, a photo of Sean and another man on the front. A man you had only seen in photos. Derek. In the photo they were both smiling at the camera with beers in hand, Derek's arm across Sean’s shoulder. They looked so happy and relaxed, and your heart broke for Sean’s loss and for the friend you never got to meet. Based on the age on the card, this was likely the last birthday card Sean had gotten from him before everything had happened. You couldn’t get rid of that one, but you didn’t want to upset him any more than you already had, so you slid it into the top book on the pile next to you. 

“Oh my god!” Sean suddenly exclaimed, breaking into a fit of laughter. 

“What?” You turned to find him clutching his side with one hand, an open notebook in the other that you instantly recognised to be the diary you had kept in high school. “No!” You shouted, quickly standing to grab the book from his hand, but Sean was too quick. He jumped up and out of the way, holding the book above his head and out of your reach. You pulled at his arm, desperately trying to reach it. 

“Dear diary,” he read as you jumped up, your fingers skimming the edge of the paper. “Do you believe in love at first sight? Because I do.”

“Stop!” You buried your face in your hands, wanting to scream with embarrassment. You had forgotten that it was even in there.  

“A new boy started at school today, and he is suuuuuper hot,” he read, in a forced american accent that didn’t reflect yours at all. “He smiled at me as he walked past and I definitely felt a spark. I think we might be soulmates.” You collapsed onto the bed, hugging your knees to your chest as you curled up, praying for the floor to open up and take you away from here. 

“Please stop.” 

“Should I be concerned? Your soulmate is out there waiting for you. What’re you doing here with me?” He closed the notebook, leaning over you. He pulled your hands away from your face, tilting your head to look at him. You could see the amusement dancing in his bright green eyes and he couldn’t hold back the smile. 

“That’s so embarrassing,” you groaned. 

“Yeah,” he laughed, lying onto the bed next to you. “Maybe the soulmates thing is a bit much, but I believe in love at first sight.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep. I knew from the first time I saw you.” He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. 

“Wow. Real smooth.” He smirked, shrugging the shoulder he wasn’t lying on. “I love you too,” you whispered, leaning in to lightly kiss him. He held your face close to his, kissing you harder, the spring cleaning completely forgotten. 

Taglist: @bisexualnathanyoung @misskittysmagicportal @nightingale-rose @forenschik @love-is-dirty-baby @super-unpredictable98 @firstpersonnarrator @messengeronthemoon

Wickedly Domestic

John Wick x OC

Chapter 3: Meetings and Breakdowns

TW: none

Maria was sweating, not from her run, not from the meeting with the most dazzling person she had ever met. No, she was sweating because she was speeding trying to not be any more late them she already was with her meeting with the fucking CEO of her job. She pulled into a space in the underground parking lot before she threw on her heels and booked it to the elevator leading to the lobby. She could feel her calves complain while her tits were basically bouncing out of her bra. In her rush to get dressed and get out the door she didn't think to even put on tights or a good bra. The drive over had been a mess, she never understood while she bothered driving when she had to go into the city, there was always traffic. If there was something you could count on when it came to New York was traffic and tourists. She had managed to not rear end multiple people on the way into work but that did nothing to help her anxiety, adding the fact she was running late to this meeting and she was almost t-boned at an intersection she was panicking.

She could feel the anxiety build up in her veins and makes her blood run cold despite the fact she could run a hand down the back of her neck and come up with a bucket of sweat. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, tapping her nails on the screen of her phone, she checked the time and winced when she saw it was already half past 7. When the doors to the elevator finally dinged open she bit her lip and huddled in the back corner, there was only one other person she recognized in the elevator out of the 4 people already packed in. She couldn’t place a name to his face but his drab attire screamed ‘accounting’ to her. She let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding and started to tackle the mess that was her hair.

She was still sweating and nervous and she could tell the other passengers in the car were getting tired of her tapping her toes. So busy freaking out about being late she didn’t notice when someone slid next to her and started picking at her hair with her; taking out the knots she couldn’t reach. She froze, someone was in her space, the elevator was filling up and if another intern thought they could feel her up because she was “new and fat” she was going to have a breakdown. She turned to face the intruder and let out a breath when she saw one of her friends. Arianna was working on getting the knots out of Maria’s hair, worrying her lip between her teeth before meeting Maria’s gaze and smiling.

“How’s it going dollface?” Arianna asked while she was rummaging through her bag to find her hair brush. Maria let out an audible breath before replying.

“Could be better, aren’t we like 30 minutes late to this meeting? As region manager you should be freaking the fuck out?”

“Maria, didn’t you get the email update? It was pushed back to 8 am. I told you to check your work email more often.” Arianna chided her, tugging playfully on Maria’s hair. Maria stuck her tongue out at her and moved onto working on her lipstick while her hair was being dealt with. Arianna fussed with her hair before giving up and dropping it back on her shoulders, she was the sole reason Maria has this job. Arianna was the one who vouched for her during the whole interview process, if it wasn’t for her she probably be washing dishes in a bar. While that isn’t a bad job it isn’t enough to keep up on her car payments.

“That’s good I guess. At least I can get something to eat and coffee before the meeting.” Maria unlocked her phone to a barrage of messages from her various group chats. She could feel her anxiety come back tenfold, usually her groups were quiet this early in the day. If everyone was up and making a ruckus someone was usually hurt, or in trouble. She furrowed her brow while she followed behind Arianna, letting her lead her to the line of the little cafe in the building. Opening her roommate chat she scrolled through the 100 plus messages she managed to miss in the short elevator trip up about 60 floors from the garage.

She started from the top, Tubbs, her cat got out again and hasn’t been home since Maria left for work. She cursed herself for leaving the front door unlocked in her rush to be on time. Tubbs was easily 20 pounds and had a knack for opening doors. She shuffled forward with the line,Bradley, her roommates dog would probably find Tubbs skulking around the property before her shift was done, so she wasn’t too worried. Her other roommate Libbie, who was woken up by the incessant ringing of the doorbell approximately 30 minutes ago had been messaging the chat since.

Libbie: I swear to FUCK Mari if you dont fucking ANSWER THESE I AM GOING TO KILL YOU MYSELF

Cooper: LOLOLOL calm down Libs, she was late to work

Mari: I have no fucking clue what yall are talking about.

Maria was brought back into the world by running into the order counter. She smiled when she saw her favorite barista working behind the counter. She rambled off her order before digging around her purse for her card. She was stopped when Mike, the barista stopped her.

“Don’t worry Mar, it’s on the house, you look like you need it.” Maria gaped like a fish and threw a $5.00 in the tip jar before walking away. Finding Arianna sitting on one of the plush couches she settled in next to her, turning her attention back to her phone. She was barraged by pictures of one of the most breathtaking flower arrangements she had ever seen. Delphiniums, peachy roses, purple hydrangeas, and dainty white bell flowers were all arranged in a huge black speckled vase. From the pictures it looked huge. At least a foot tall and she had no idea how big the round arrangement actually was.

Libbie: look, the guy said these were for you and and these are so fucking expensive. I’m pretty sure this fucking thing weighs 60 pounds. All the delivery guy, who woke me up btw, said it that it was addressed to you and needed to be delivered ASAP.

Mari: okay>>??? It could be like a stalker or something! Maybe it's my mom!

Cooper: We all know your mom is too fucking broke to order this many flowers for you. Maybe it’s your secret sugar daddy??

Mari: Okay Ouch,,,, ur right BUT still. I am not hiding a sugar DADDY from y'all. You think I would still be wearing walmart sports bras if i did have one???

Maria put her phone and silent before she got up and followed Arianna to the meeting room. It was in the executive offices, she they had another elevator ride up approximately 15 floors. Maria nestled herself in the back of the elevator and nursed her coffee.

“Rough morning?” Arianna ghosted her fingers under her own eyes, Maria gently touched her face, wincing when she could feel the bags under them. Maria shrugged, a noncommittal gesture she knew drove Arianna crazy.

“Yeah, my roommate is fucking the twink again and they woke me up at 4 am. I wasn’t able to get back to sleep so I went on a run, then I found this puppy on the trail at the swamp. Then I took her home and the owner was like, so fucking pretty.” Maria took a sip of her coffee before continuing, lowering her voice and the elevator filled with more people heading to the meeting filtered in. “Then Tubbs runs away because I was so fucking blindsided by how beautiful the guy was and I thought I was going to be late for this fucking meeting and apparently a huge fucking bouquet of flowers showed up for me like half an hour ago?” Maria pulled out her phone and unlocked it, shoving the group chat at Arianna. The other woman let out a gasp before she took the phone and scrolled through the chat history.

“Who do you think it was?? I don’t know anyone in the company, or you never told me about anyone you were seeing with the initials ‘J.W.’ and how hot was the guy with the dog?” Arianna handed the phone back before taking a sip of her own coffee. “Because like, your taste in men is trash, ladies you do a good job, but you would fuck a skeleton if it called you pretty.” Stepping out of the elevator, Maria slid it back into her purse before downing the last of her coffee and tossing the cup into the recycle bin by the meeting room door.

“I seriously have no fucking clue about the flowers, and he is like hot, like.” Maria tapped her finger to her chin, “like Adam Driver! But like, classically pretty. Like the kinda pretty you would find in an old painting from like the 1800’s or something.” Maria smiled and stuck her tongue out at Arianna’s shocked face before walking into the office and settling in her designated chair, which was thankfully next to Arianna’s.

“You are the only person who would think a painting from the 1800’s is pretty. Let alone Adam Driver. Him and his goofy fucking ears. So unless you can get a picture I am going to assume he is gross as all the other guys you've crushed on.” Arianna swiveled to look at Maria who was rolling her eyes. It was approaching 8 am. The room fell silent as the doors to the meeting room slammed open, the CEO walked in followed by the rest of the executive team. Arianna snapped her mouth shut before swiveling back to face the front of the meeting room.

Loop Number Three Hundred Twelve

Hello who wants a quick one shot about Time Loops!

Summary: Patton is having a really bad day, and Virgil and Janus might just have a fix. He just wishes he found them three hundred loops ago.

Word Count: 5453

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on AO3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Janus is folding origami snakes when Virgil finds him. 

Which, in itself, is not new or unusual. Janus has been making origami creatures since before Virgil had ever met him: cutting perfect squares of papers, folding along invisible lines, creating something new from the boringness. Some people like making tiny stars, but Janus turns squares of paper into pocket sized friends. Some of Virgils’s favorite presents are books in which he found little purple and gold paper spiders tucked between the pages, or the cranes that he unfolded to find little sweet and sappy messages for him, or when he was emptying out his school bag and found butterflies hidden in the depths, left there with care and love and waiting to be discovered on a rainy day.

Janus folds origami and Virgil keeps every single one he’s ever gotten his hands on-- sometimes even going as far as to dig the few Janus recycled out of the bin and keep them in his collection.

So the origami isn’t necessarily new or weird or confusing. 

Finding him behind the school building, cutting class to fold them is.

Janus is, despite his outward appearance and his claims to the otherwise, a huge nerd. Virgil finds that adorable about him: the way he gets excited to go to school and learn something new, the bounce in his step when he was heading towards his psychology class, the rumbling of his words when he forgot to take a breath while describing history to him. He’s a nerd who reads autobiographies with crappy romance novel covers strapped on them and begs Virgil to watch the new Netflix documentaries with him.

When they had been seven, Janus had been very adamant about being a host on the History Channel. Virgil had been interested as long as he got to be the guy that went out and found Mothman to invite on to Janus’s show. 

(Sometimes Virgil finds himself missing the simplicity of being seven-years-old and knowing what he wants to do with his life.)

Still Janus isn’t the type to cut class usually. Playing hookie was Virgil’s game, not his. But Janus hadn’t shown up to meet him outside his locker at the break between their classes, and Virgil had made the decision that locating Janus took priority over Personal Finance. 

 Its nice outside, far nicer than it has any right to be. The sun is shining, with just enough heat to make Virgil consider taking off his jacket (he doesn’t), a breeze carries through the air playing with his bangs, and the bells had just rang so everyone is in class and not outside. There’s barely any noise out here: a zombie apocalypse  picturesque scene. It used to unnerve him, but now it just gives him peace of mind.

Behind the school is his fifth place to check, right behind: the far corner of the library that Janus likes to power nap in during lunch, the stairwell to the roof that is supposed to be locked but they’d jimmied open last year, Janus’s actual class where his seat was empty and several kids glanced at Virgil as he had scurried by, and the parking lot where Virgil checked to make sure that Janus hadn’t just driven away and left him in this hell alone without even a text message goodbye. 

Janus is, in fact, still at the school, sitting in grass against the wall of the school that faces the parking lot. If Virgil hadn’t been looking for him, he might have mistaken him for a dark shrub or the Art Club's newest modern art installation. His bag is next to him, half his books spilling out into the lawn and at least a whole tree’s worth of folded paper around him. The piles of origami snakes remind Virgil of noodles, a mixture of colors and then twice as many in just plain white. 

“Hey,” Virgil says, approaching slowly in case this is one of those times when Janus wants to be alone more than he wants to feel alone. 

Janus folds another crease with the edge of his thumb nail and throws his sloppily made friend into the pile with the others. There’s a stack of pre-cut paper next to him, but it's all loose leaf paper. Which meant that he had folded his way through his stash of actual origami colored paper, which meant that he had been doing this since a lot longer than before second block, like Virgil feared.

Janus sighs thumping his head back against the brick walls and picks up another sheet. Virgil takes that as a sign to sit down next to him. He drops his bag off at his feet and reaches around the assortment of pins (Xmen, Marvel, gay flag, banned books week, one from a video game he liked the art of but had never played, etc) to unzip the smallest pocket. He pulls out another stack of the thin paper in an assortment of colors and places it on top of Janus’s current stack.

“So,” Virgil says, picking a snake off the ground. “Wanna talk about it?”

Janus flips the snake over and begins the process of folding the tail, ruthlessly. “Do I want to talk about it,” He echoes sourly, pressing each fold like it was a matter of life and death. “No, I do not want to talk about it. Because its stupid and a waste of time and I shouldn’t care but I still do and you have so many better things to do than listen to me whine about Patton Hart, yet again!”

Janus folds the head down and then stars into the empty eyes with a glare.

Virgil points his own snake at Janus and wiggles it a bit, “If its bothering you this much, then it can’t be stupid. And besides I love hearing about how much you hate Patton Hart. What did he do this time?”

“I don’t hate…” Janus lets out a sigh, “He didn’t do anything. In fact he didn’t even show up to class today. I heard a couple sophomores say he was acting funny earlier so I assume he went home early.”

Virgil frowns at that, trying to think back to the morning. He’d been running late and preoccupied with a Spanish test that he had forgotten he had first block, but he does remember seeing Roman and Patton in the halls. They hadn’t been holding hands like usual, which is probably why it stuck in Virgil’s head. They were the most lovey-dovey couple in the whole school: holding hands, kissing, flamboyant declarations of love... Virgil has nightmares about the way that Roman had asked Patton to Prom Junior year and had made Janus swear that if he ever plans on taking Virgil to a dance, he wouldn’t do it with glitter, the marching band, and in front of the whole school.

Patton had also looked different, Virgil remembers. Less cheery, more despondent. He had a smile on his face, but it looked forced and his eyes were glazed over like he wasn’t listening to anything at all.

Which, okay, fair. Roman tended to say the same things every day but phrased them differently. There were really only oh-so-many ways to say the words “I love you” and Roman had used up all of them in freshman year.

“So he wasn’t there,” Virgil says, shrugs, and takes a moment of silence to hope that Patton is getting some well needed sleep: Patton is one of those guys that just...finds a way to be involved with everything. Bake sales, choir, poetry club, talent show, office runner, treasurer of the student council-- if there’s something anyone needs to get done, Patton probably can do it. Not to mention he’s the nicest person Virgil has ever met. He honestly sees the good in people and its a shame that he’s dating Roman, because otherwise he and Janus would have invited him into their relationship a while ago.

(Roman isn’t exactly someone Janus or Virgil could stand on a weekly basis, much less daily. Virgil is pretty sure if Roman ever tried any romantic shit that he pulls on Patton, on Virgil he’ll spontaneously combust. Janus gets hives from being in close proximity to the gooey lovefest that Roman brings around any time he opens his mouth. And of course, Roman isn’t the type to share anything.)

((Ninety percent of their relationship these days is locking eyes while Roman did something and fake gagging like the mature adults they were.))

“What’s the big de--” Virgil stops, “Wait, isn’t debate today?”

“And take a guess who was my partner,” Janus summarizes. He tosses the snake to the ground and picks up another sheet of paper. “He...The Dragon Witch immediately failed me because he didn’t….and I couldn’t…”

He messes up the fold because his fingers are shaking too much. Virgil gently reaches out and takes the paper from his fingertips. It floats down to join the other snakes, and Virgil gives Janus’s hands a squeeze. 

There’s a welt of anger in his chest, bubbling up in a nice simmer. He hates the Dragon Witch, although he’s never had her class or even knows her real name (Roman had coined the title in freshman year back when he had been a benchwarmer for the football team and it had caught on until the whole school used it). She’s known for being generally awful to every student that came in, a little unhinged, and even her own daughter-- a girl in the grade below them-- agrees that nobody wants to be in her class. Unfortunately, despite the many protests held by small pockets of students, the Dragon Witch has tenure and the school board’s stance is “if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it”. Ergo, she still lives on this plane of existence and Virgil thinks about egging her car often. Probably too often.

“Its stupid,” Janus repeats and the cavity where Virgil’s heart should be aches a little for him, “I know she’s had it out for me. Ever since that first day when I pointed out all the books on the syllabus were written by rich white men. But it was just… I felt really good about this one, Vee.” 

Virgil knows this. Janus had been practically vibrating since the assignment had been given out. He’d gone above and beyond with his research for the topic-- something about selflessness that had gone straight over Virgil’s head when Janus had been talking about it. Patton hadn’t even been that bad of a partner, Janus had said, despite never having time to practice for it. They had exchanged numbers and texted details and notes to one another all week.

If Virgil hadn’t spent most of the afternoons lying next to Janus playing League of Legends and listening to Janus’s black pen scratch out preparation notes, he might have been jealous of how much attention Janus had been giving Patton. (and vise versa.)

“We were going to win,” Janus says softly. “And then Patton decided to just not show the fuck up! Why can’t I count on anyone but you? Why must I suffer in a world full of idiots?”

“Hey, at least he’s cute,” Virgil says.

“At least he’s cute,” Janus agrees, resignedly. “Do you think he’s going to break up with Roman?”

Virgil shrugs, “Do you want to ask him to join us if he does?”

“I would never pass up an opportunity to spite Roman like that,” Janus says, which is actually code for “I would never pass up an opportunity to dote on Patton and Virgil, do you think he’ll let us paint his nails, I have the perfect shade of blue to match his shoelaces--” 

(They’ve had this conversation at least once every season since Janus had caught Virgil sighing at the smaller boy in the halls midway through freshman year.)

Janus wiggles his hands from Virgil’s and picks up the unfinished snake but its softer now, less angry and more care. When he completes it, he points it at Virgil and offers a guilty half smile.

“Sorry for making you miss class.” 

Virgil wants to laugh because really that was the last thing on his mind right now. He shuffles through the snakes on the ground picking out his favorites to add to his collection. “Nah, its cool. You can just do my taxes and budgeting in the future and we’ll call it even. What are you gonna do with all of these?”

Janus hums, looking at all of them, “Maybe we can hide them around school to confuse people.”

“Can we write “you’re next” in a red pen on the inside of them?” Virgil asks with a grin, “like some horror movie shit?”

“Whatever you desire, darling,” Janus says and Virgil is incredibly grateful that he’s in love with his best friend. Virgil doesn’t usually count himself as lucky, but Janus had to be some kind of miracle: a person who understood Virgil the way that no one else ever bothered to. Janus has the type of laughter that makes everyone else want to laugh as well, the type of smile that begs for mischief, the type of loyalty that reassures Virgil no matter what happens they have each other’s backs.

Also he’s pretty, and Virgil likes staring at pretty things.

Janus leans forward and gives him a peck on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You missed,” Virgil says with a stupid ass smile, because he’s stupidly in love and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Janus rolls his eyes very fondly and leans in again, until Virgil can see every shade of brown and green in his mismatched eyes, until he can feel Janus’s breath on his face, until Virgil loses track of the nanometers between them. Virgil’s eyes are half closed already, anticipating how the rest of their newly established free time is going to be spent and not feeling a speck of embarrassment or guilt about it--

And then he sees the movement out of the corner of his eyes and freezes up. He’s certain without looking that it is a teacher and oh god they were going to get expelled for something. There’s too much stuff around them-- their bags, the millions of snakes, their own bodies-- and even if they left everything there they’d surely get found out from that stuff, and then the school would call his mom and Virgil did not want to have that conversation with her again. 

But then he does look and its not a teacher at all. Virgil blinks, once, twice to make sure he’s seeing things correctly.

“Virgil?” Janus says, still several centimetres away from kissing him and obviously aware of how Virgil had tensed to high hell.

“I thought you said that Patton went home sick,” Virgil says absently.

Janus sits back, following his line of sight to the corner of the building where-- sure enough-- Patton Hart was walking without a care in the entire world. He was dressed differently today than Virgil remembered him ever dressing: the memories of his polo and his cardigan give way to the reality of sweatpants and a soft sweater that cannot be comfortable in the heat of the day. Virgil tries to remember if that’s what Patton had been wearing earlier and… yeah it was. From this distance Virgil can’t tell the look on his face, but he doesn’t look like he’s worried at all.

He’s walking with a purpose. And that purpose looks angry. 

“Does Patton have a car?” Janus asks.

“I don’t...think so…” Virgil says tracking Patton’s progress across the lawn.

“Then who’s keys does he have in his hand?” Janus says not entirely rhetorical.

With barely a nod between the two of them, they scoop all the paper snakes into Virgil’s bag and take off after him.

Its extremely weird, Virgil thinks. Because its so quiet that their footsteps sound like slaps, and they have to duck around a red truck to avoid Patton’s glance back. Janus crouches delicately, slinking between the cars and Virgil wastes a moment watching how gracefully he moves. 

He’s like water flowing, controlled and effortless and an undercurrent of power. Virgil doesn’t doubt his ability to fight right this moment, doesn’t doubt his killer left hook, or his dirty fighting tactics that Janus picked up in the name of self defense and preservation. Virgil’s body hums with adrenaline as he watches Janus follow after Patton.

He leans against a jeep that doesn’t actually have a parking pass but no one’s complained about it and Janus peeks around the bummer to see where Patton was heading.

For a second, Virgil thought he was going after Janus’s car-- the little gold mazada 3 thats a year and a half old and a gift from his parents. He’s just about to yell, to scream, to ward Patton off, because it was already shitty of him to not show up to the debate, but touching Janus’s car? That’s like super assholeish and Virgil has never once wanted to call Patton an asshole.

Janus, however, is quicker and covers his mouth with his hand. “Look, I think...he’s crying,”

“What?” Virgil whispers, squinting-- oh shit, he should probably get an appointment to update his contacts soon -- and Patton is crying. Its the silent type of crying that's born from using a smile to hide the hurt too much and Virgil immediately decides that Patton doesn’t deserve that ever. He feels each one of those tears like a punch to the gut, each soft barely audible gasp like a knee to his jaw, each sniffle like an elbow to the back of his head.

Patton storms past Janus’s car and goes straight to the fiery red Prius that Roman (and his twin Remus) share.

“Oh my god,” Virgil breathes at the same time as Patton takes the blade of a key to the side of the car.

The noise is awful. Janus flinches curling into Virgil as they watch with morbid fascination: Patton doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate as he carves deep into the paint and the metal, perfecting each and every letter.

By the time he’s finished, he’s bawling big fat crocodile tears that soak all turn all his cheeks puffy and soak the collar of his sweater and Virgil’s stomach is a twisted knot of emotions he doesn’t know what to do with.

“FUCK OFF” written on the side of Roman’s car explains things very well, anyway.

Patton drops the keys on the ground and then follows after in such a dead weight fall that Virgil feels the shockwaves from where he is. He curls in on himself, sobbing horrible, gut-wrenching howls of pain.

Janus leaps around Virgil to run after him, and Virgil only stumbles slightly trying to come with him. 

“I didn’t…” Janus says, loudly--loud enough to make Patton jump and Virgil flinch and the empty parking lot feel crowded, “I didn’t know you were into Modern Art, Patton.”

Virgil thinks that if it were any other situation, he might have snorted. But when Patton turns to them with his blue eyes so full of tears that Virgil thinks he might drown in them, he forgets every other thought he has had.

Its just...rage.

“I’ll kill him.”

And Virgil means it, the same way he says that the sky is blue, or that he won't take off his sweatshirt, that he loves Janus with all his soul. He means that he will go right back into that building and search through every single fucking classroom until he finds wherever Roman spends his third class of the day and then he’ll drag him out to the parking lot by his stupid perfect hair and run him over a couple hundred times.

Virgil will go to jail for manslaughter and he wouldn’t even feel sorry.

Patton lets out a shuddering sob and frantically tries to wipe away his ugly tears, making noises that Virgil assumes are meant to be words but they come out scrambled and grated and wrong. And Patton who’s never done a single mean thing in all the time that Virgil has known of him, does not deserve to feel a hurt that bad. How dare Roman make him feel a pain that bad.

Virgil rolls up his sleeves and spins on his heel to go take care of the issue-- but Janus catches him by his hood and yanks him back.

“Patton,” Janus says softly (a tone that's normally reserved for two AM sleepovers and lazy saturday movie marathons and sad boi hours that come and go like the seasons), “What can we do?”

Patton lets out a shriek, and when he looks back up there’s no sadness. Its a fury, an anger, its frustration that boiled into a suffocating gas and Virgil guess that he’s not going to need to end Roman’s life because Patton is perfectly capable of doing himself.

“You can shut the hell up!” Patton screams, “And Leave me the fuck alone!”

Virgil and Janus share a look.

And well...Virgil has been breaking rules since he was a kid and Janus isn’t the type of follow orders simply because. Without discussing anything they both sit down next to Patton, and Virgil starts pulling out the origami paper again.

“What are you doing?” Patton hisses in a way that Virgil has never once seen him do. His fingers shake, but he keeps himself calm and cool and collected.

“Its called origami,” Janus says, although he knows very well that’s not what Patton was asking. Virgil watches his fingers flick in the air, a mesmerizing dance that once Patton looks at he couldn’t look away from. 

Patton’s tears drop, his face is still puffy and dangerous, but Janus says nothing about it. Virgil holds his breath and watches as Janus folds, unfolds, pinches, twists the paper into a jumping frog. He sets it out on his palm and lets Patton stare at it like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“I like making things when I get upset,” Janus says. “Would you like me to teach you?”

“I…” Patton sniffles, rubbing away his tears again. He sounds so small and insignificant that Virgil wants to wrap his arms around him and protect him from everything. “Why…?”

“I know how to do many animals,” Janus continues on, “frogs, snakes, spiders, cranes… Or we can just fold paper in any way we want to, too.”

Patton is silent. Janus picks up another piece of paper and begins folding it in half. There’s a breeze through the parking lot, colder than before, bitter and smarting. Virgil tugs the sleeves of his jacket over his hands and tries not to wonder what happened to the sun. 

“The motion is calming to me,” Janus explains, “I like the creation of something new and different, the repetition--”

There’s a huff.

A snort.

And then...well then Patton is laughing a terribly wet, mean laugh. Janus pauses halfway through folding the head of the frog to make sure Patton hasn't been replaced by a skinwalking alien wearing Patton’s face, and Virgil can’t really blame him at all. The small boy kneels over laughing so hard he ends up gasping for breath and Virgil shivers at how the noise steals all the warmth from the air.

“Fucking stupid,” Patton manages, through gasps that sound suspiciously like whimpers. “Everything is so fucking stupid.” 

“I see someone taught the five-year-old a new swear word,” Janus says. “Who was it? Remus?”

“Just go away, Janus,” Patton says, laying his head on the asphalt.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Janus tuts finishing off his second frog, “You really don’t know where that piece of road has been.”

“Actually I do!” Patton bolts upright, “I do know! Its been right here! Its been here no matter what’s happened, never moving, never changing, and even if I marked it with chalk or paint or took a jackhammer to it or blew it the fuck up it will still be here when I wake up tomorrow! Now fuck off!”

Virgil blinks, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. 

“I am learning so many things about you today, Patton,” Janus says without missing a beat. He picks up another sheet of paper, “You’re into modern art, you’re passionate about parking lots...my, my, my. Perhaps we should have done our debate on road construction instead. Would you have bothered to show up then?”

“Like it matters.” Patton says, even more unlike himself. Virgil thinks he’s seen Patton overbook himself for commitments more times than he can count and apologies are nearly always coupled with food of some sort: cookies, fudge, pasta salad. Sometimes even to things he never even said he could be there for. Patton is more apologetic than Virgil ever has been, and Virgil likes to apologize for existing.

But here is a Patton, or a version of him, that seems so defeated, so angry, so sad and upset and miserable that he’s just...given up. Consequences be damned.

“We lose,” Patton says looking up at the sky, “We lose because Mrs. Hydrus hates you, Janus, and so she makes us do it without any notes, then every time you stumble, she interrupts and asks for clarification despite being the moderator, and she cuts down our time by a whole minute. And when you say anything back to her she sends you to the principal's office and gives us a zero for the assignment, anyway. We lose. But its fine because you never remember anyway and then you get to wake up and be humiliated all over again. And it doesn’t matter what I do! Okay? We lose!”

Janus stops folding his frog and turns to look directly at Patton. Virgil is too, and he can scarcely breathe.

“What did you just say?”

Patton turns to face him swiping away another round of tears. “Go ahead, Virgil! You’re just like everyone else. Go and call me c-crazy! Tell me I’m insane! T-take me to the doctors! Whatever! I’m so t-tired of this and I can’t even die.”

Virgil swallows hard. There’s a lump in the back of his throat, a lump that’s growing until he can barely breathe around it. Janus brings a hand up to his mouth like he might be sick right there on the concrete. 

“Patton…” Virgil breathes. “Are you a paper frog?”

Patton stares at him like he’s stupid so Virgil reaches out with shaky hands and picks up one of the finished frogs from the ground. He carefully unfolds it, piece-by-piece, until its back to the original square. Then he holds it up for Patton to see, and begins to refold it the way that Janus had.

“Are you,” Virgil asks, “being refolded like a paper frog?”

Patton’s face says everything.

“H-how,” Janus asks, “how many times?”

The other boy blinks long and slow and sniffles. “I-I don’t know. Around three hundred twelve? Maybe? I lost count so long ago.”

“Three hundred twel--” Virgil repeats, “Holy shit, Pat! That’s almost a year.”

“Why didn’t you come to us?” Janus asks, although they all know why really. Despite them being debate partners, Patton and Janus don’t talk. Janus and Virgil admire him from afar, and only talk to him in passing. For the longest time Virgil didn’t even know if Patton knew his name, and now they’re sitting here wondering why strangers would ever interact with one another?

“What about…” Virgil motions to the car, the keys, the fun words written in the red paint.

Patton shakes his head so hard his body trembles. “He doesn’t...he never...I tried so so hard but its so much easier to leave him be. It takes so much to convince him and then… then its not a true love’s kiss solution.”

Virgil’s gut twists just thinking about that. About how many times that Roman made him prove that he had seen everything before, and then for a kiss not to work when they both were head over heels in love with each other and then waking up again, convincing Roman again, then telling him the kiss didn’t work? Virgil could guess it didn’t go over well at all. 

Knowing Roman it had probably dissolved into a “we’re not meant for each other?”, followed by a “i will always love you no matter what.” , and finished with a “If it will save you from this loop then we’ll have to break up”.

From the sight of the keys on the ground, Virgil can guess how far it went this time.

“I do love him,” Patton says almost desperately. “I do, I do, I do! I swear I love him so much--”

Janus puts a hand on Patton’s shoulder and he falls silent immediately. “I believe you,” Janus says, “I’ve seen the way you look at him, Patton. No one here thinks that the two of you aren’t perfect for each other.”

Its a pain to admit because its friendzoning both of them right now, but Virgil would weather that if it meant Patton wouldn’t sound so heartbroken. Janus meets his eyes over Patton’s shoulder and gives him a nod. At least they’re on the same page for this.

“Three hundred twelve time loops,” Virgil says, “does not sound like it was fun at all.”

“Are any loops fun?” Janus asks.

“Fruit loops are fun,” Patton sniffles again. He rubs his eyes and hunches over in his sweatshirt. “Do you guys...do you guys really believe me?”

Janus’s lips curve into a wry smile, “Patton in all the time that I can remember, I’ve never seen you have the guts to key someone’s car. And now you’re saying fuck? And telling me off? That's a whole lot of character development to happen without me noticing, unless it was a time loop.”

Patton giggles, just a bit. It's still weepy but it makes Virgil feel like he can breathe for the first time. 

“Don’t worry, Pat,” Virgil says, “We’ll figure this thing out.” 

“H-how?” 

Janus sighed leaning back a little, “Well we could ask Logan.”

“Logan?” Virgil echoes, “you mean Remus’s boyfriend? You think he’s got something?”

Janus shrugs, “He is a witch.” 

“A what now?” Virgil says. “Since when was he a witch! You never told me that!” 

Janus grins sheepishly, and rubs the back of his neck, “I forgot? I love you?”

Virgil blows a raspberry at him. “Just like how I’m gonna forget to mention you when I find Mothman. But I love you, too.”

“Its a cruel love, this thing we have.” Janus says rather poetically and Virgil reaches over to shove his shoulder. Janus laughs sways so he falls onto Patton’s shoulder. Patton for his part smiles, bright and blinding and it takes both their breaths away when he laughs again.

Virgil can’t imagine having to redo the same day twice, much less three hundred times. He wonders vaguely if Patton has any idea how strong he is, how amazing, how inspiring he is to keep that glow inside himself despite everything.

He’s smile fades for a moment and he perks up all of a sudden. “Oh My Gosh! Logan’s a witch!” He makes a flurry of arm movements that forces Virgil to duck, “Oh my gosh that means--!!”

“Deep breaths, dear,” Janus suggests, although it goes ignored.

“Yesterday--like actually yesterday, your yesterday, not the last loop, Logan and Remus got into an argument over a bottle and I thought it was gatorade! Remus was trying to drink it but Logan wouldn’t let him and they ended up spilling it on the floor! I helped them keep it up but I got a little bit on my hand! I didn’t think too much of it but what if it was like some sort of potion?”

Janus considers it, “Hmmm, its a good starting place. Let’s go ask him what it was.” He stands up and offers a hand down to Patton and Virgil each. Virgil takes it and turns back to also offer his own hand to the smaller boy. 

“Come on, Hart, this is going to be your last loop.” Janus says.

Patton stares at their hands almost as if he was afraid to take them. He glances down at the origami frogs, at the keys, and their bags, then back up at them with an fearful expression. “You...you promise?”

Virgil laughs, “Yeah, we got you, Pat. Promise.”

Patton shakes from head to toe, but he grabs both their hands and smiles like he has hope for the first time in three hundred twelve days.

Baby, You’re A Haunted House

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader Rating: General (TW for blood, mentions of a suicide) Requested By: None Word Count: 6,330 Author’s Note: Here is my first story for spooky season! I had hoped to have it up sooner, but life has been busy. This story has been in my mind since this spring. I intend on writing a little bit about the location it’s set in because it’s real! It really is a seminary that was converted into apartments in my hometown. I’ll link to the post here when it’s written. And yes, that is a picture of it below!  Also!!! There is a reference to another one of my favorite bands and one of their albums, first person who can correctly point it out wins... a prize? My admiration? Not sure yet, but shout it out if you know it!

It all seemed too good to be true.

(YN)’s roommate had let her know that she was going to be moving out of town for a new job and the thought of looking for a new apartment or roommate was overwhelming. She was dreading the process, but the next day while eating her lunch at work, she spotted an ad in the paper for Holy Name Heights. The description stated the apartments were newly renovated and located in a historic building on the edge of town, so she called right away to set up a tour.

Later that week she was touring the building that had previously been a seminary for many years. The diocese had sold the second and third floors of the sprawling building to a developer who converted the rooms into apartments, while leaving the first floor as office spaces for the diocese, a Catholic charity organization, and a small museum about the history of the church’s presence in the area.

“This place is beautiful,” (YN) marveled at the space. While being only one bedroom, it was spacious, had a washer and dryer so she wouldn't need to haul her laundry anywhere, assigned parking, not to mention a beautiful view, but a question nagged at the back of her mind. “How much is it per month?”

“$850 per month including utilities,” the agent replied with a smile.

“Oh! Ok, yes, I’d love to apply!”

A few weeks later as (YN) was moving her things into her brand new third floor apartment, she realized how quiet the building was. She paused briefly at each door as she walked by, straining to hear if anyone else was there. As she arrived at her own door with another armload of boxes, the door next to hers opened and a dark haired man stepped out. She shot him a quick smile as she fumbled for her keys. 

“Do you need some help?” He asked.

“That’d be great,” she laughed and he took the box from her so she could get her keys straightened out. “I’m (YN).”

“Gerard,” he replied as she got the door open and took the box back from him.

“Have you lived here long?”

“Just moved in last weekend. I’m glad I’m not the only one up here anymore.”

“Wait, seriously? None of these other apartments are occupied?”

“I don’t think so, I haven’t seen many people around. I guess an old seminary might be kind of a hard sell.”

“Yea, I’m not sure I would have considered it either if I wasn’t in a bind. Thanks for the help with the box,” (YN) smiled as she shifted it in her arms.

“No problem, I’ll see ya around,” he smiled before continuing down the hall.

“See ya,” she called after him. (YN) closed the door behind her and shook her head. Cool apartment, good price, cute neighbor. It all seemed too good to be true.

~

The next day (YN) got up, made a pot of coffee and set about unloading the box that held her mug collection. The fact that she didn’t have to share cupboards with a roommate delighted her, as she didn’t have to worry about any of her favorites getting damaged. She put on some music and made her way over to the living room window as the smell of brewing coffee filled the room. 

Her view was of the front of the building. Trees with bare branches lined the hillside that the building sat upon and a long driveway led up to the front of the building. She loved knowing that the leaves would soon be filling those branches, and then in the fall they’d turn beautiful shades of gold, red and orange. She also liked the idea of being able to see who was coming and going up the driveway. 

After enjoying her coffee, she got back to work unpacking her apartment. The hours flew by as the pile of broken down cardboard boxes piled up near her door. As she wiped her sweaty brow, she realized she had no idea what to do with the boxes and trash that had accumulated. Had the agent even shown her where the dumpsters were? Then she had an idea. Gerard.

Should she bother him? She didn’t even know for sure if he was in. She took a deep breath as she approached his door and knocked. She wondered how long she should wait if he wasn’t there, or didn’t want to answer. She’d never interacted much with the neighbors at her old apartment building, so maybe she was being totally obnoxious. (YN) was so deep in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t notice that the door was opening.

“Hey (YN), what’s up?”

“Hi, umm this is probably super dumb, but I don’t know where the recycling bins and dumpsters are. The agent never pointed them out, and I didn’t think to ask until I realized I was knee deep in broken down boxes,” she laughed nervously.

“I can help you carry boxes down,” Gerard offered with a smile.

“You don’t have to do that,” (YN) could feel herself blushing.

“It’s no problem.”

“I mean, if you insist!” (YN) laughed and he followed her back to her door. They each took an armload of boxes and Gerard led the way to the staircase that was at the end of the hallway next to his apartment. (YN) glanced over her shoulder at the dark portion of the staircase that led up to a door, most likely the attic. She quirked an eyebrow in curiosity but continued after Gerard.

“So what do you do?” (YN) asked, breaking the silence that hung between them as they headed down the stairs.

“I’m a comic book writer,” he replied almost sheepishly.

“Oh wow, that’s really cool,” (YN) replied genuinely and Gerard lit up.

“Thanks! A lot of people think it’s kinda lame, but it’s just a different type of writing, ya know?” (YN) nodded in agreement. “What do you do?”

“Boring office work,” she said shaking her head. “I wish I had time to do creative stuff like write or draw.”

“You should try, even if it’s just a little bit at a time,” he said as he opened the door leading out into the bright sunshine. “The dumpsters are back here.”

“Thanks,” (YN) smiled as she dropped her share into the recycling bin. "And maybe I'll try to find some time to write, if inspiration strikes."

"You'd be surprised how ideas can pop up when you least expect them," Gerard replied as they made their way back to their floor.

~

Winter started to melt into spring, and (YN) had settled into the routine of her new apartment life. Or at least she thought she was. 

It quickly became clear that she must have been a lot more absentminded than she realized, and her old roommate must have been picking up her slack. She could have sworn she had more milk left when she put the carton back in the fridge, but when she grabbed it the next morning for her cereal there was almost none left. And then there were all the things that just seemed to disappear for no reason that never reappeared, no matter how hard she looked.

One thing that didn’t seem to disappear was her crush on her neighbor Gerard. Interacting with him also became part of her routine, as it always seemed they were running into each other walking into the building or by the mailboxes.

It just happened that it was one of those lucky days, as (YN) had just walked in with her bags from grocery shopping when Gerard walked by. 

“Hey (YN),” he smiled. 

“Gerard,” (YN) started, trying to stifle a laugh. “ I’m not trying to be mean, but do you know how to cook? I feel like I’ve only ever seen you with take out, but never groceries,” she said nodding to her own bags.

“I know how to cook! I am a functional adult,” he replied with feigned offense.

“If you say so, enjoy your dinner,” (YN) replied as she entered her apartment.

“I’ll prove it to you,” he called just as she was about to shut the door.

She poked her head out the door, eyebrows raised. “Oh really?”

“Tomorrow night? 7 o’clock?”

“I’ll be there,” she replied with a smile. When the door was shut behind her, she couldn’t help but let out a squeal of delight.

The next evening (YN) was digging through her drawers looking for the sweater she wanted to wear to dinner with Gerard, but she absolutely could not find it. 

“This is crazy, I know I saw it when I was putting away laundry,” she muttered to herself. She got up and went over to the closet housing the washer and dryer, in hopes it had just fallen between the machines, or maybe was still in the dryer. She looked all around but found nothing, and trudged back to her room.

‘Wait, I didn’t turn the light off,’ she said, flipping the switch back on with a shake of her head. “I need to get more sleep.”

Giving up the search, she threw on a different top and checked the time. It was a few minutes past 7 and she hurried out the door.

“Welcome to my humble home,” Gerard said with a smile as he let (YN) in.

“Hmm, seems familiar,” (YN) giggled. “Oh dinner smells great!”

“Thank you,” Gerard smiled proudly. “We’ll be having spaghetti and meatballs. Umm, I don’t drink, so I have soda or water,” Gerard offered.

“Water is fine,” (YN) replied as she sat down at the table. “How’d you day go?”

“Good, I think I have a new story I wanna work on,” he answered as he placed plates on the table and sat down himself. “How about you.”

“Pretty boring actually. I’ll have to admit, knowing that we’re gonna be having dinner got me through my day.”

Gerard smiled and (YN) could have sworn she saw a blush creeping across his cheeks as he glanced down. "I'm glad I could help."

Conversation lulled as they dug into their meals, and The Smashing Pumpkins played softly in the background.

"Ok, I have to apologize for that dig yesterday about you not cooking, this is very good,” (YN) smiled.

"I have to admit, I bought the sauce, and the meatballs were frozen," Gerard winced.

“That’s fine! I do the same,” she laughed and Gerard looked relieved.

(YN) was having a wonderful time hanging out with Gerard and she felt like she could listen to him talk forever. He spoke with such passion and enthusiasm, it drew her in and she hung on his words. They laughed and joked and the time flew by until (YN) found herself stifling a yawn and she glanced down at her watch.

"Oh, it's late! I should get outta your hair."

“Well m’lady,” he said, affecting the same posh accent they had been joking around in earlier and bowing before her, “I do hope this evening has lived up to all your expectations.”

“It most certainly has,” she said with a laugh as she curtseyed holding out an imaginary skirt. 

Gerard reached out and took her hand in his and placed a kiss to the back of it, catching her off guard as he looked up at her from behind his lashes. "I hope we can do it again sometime soon."

(YN) nodded. "Yea," she said almost breathlessly. "I'd love that."

Gerard walked her to the door and when she glanced back at him when she reached her own door, he was leaning against his door frame.

"Night," she waved before walking into her apartment and he smiled and waved back.

(YN) could hardly sleep that night, as she was absolutely buzzing.

~

Weekly dinners soon became a tradition between (YN) and Gerard, with both of them taking turns hosting the other. (YN) knew she was terrible at both flirting and picking up when others were flirting with her, but she couldn't help but feel like Gerard might just like her too.There was something about the way his friendly hugs and touches started to linger longer and longer.

One night when they had been hanging out Gerard had casually mentioned going to hang out with his brother on his birthday, so (YN) took it upon herself to bring him his present before he left that day. As she stood at his door, she felt just as nervous as the first time she was at his door asking for help with her boxes. Once again she was totally lost in thought when Gerard opened the door.

"Hey (YN)!" He greeted her.

"Hi! Happy birthday!" She smiled, holding out the plate of chocolate chip cookies and the card she picked out just for him. 

"You remembered my birthday?" He asked, his eyes going wide and pink dusting his cheeks.

"Of course I did!" She laughed. “How could I forget?” She added a little more softly.

The smile grew on Gerard’s face and (YN)’s heart fluttered. “Thanks,” he finally replied, shaking his head. “Hey (YN), I was wondering, if umm, you’d like to maybe like go out on a date, like a real date some time? Don’t feel like you have to say yes just because it’s my birthday.”

(YN) laughed again, and she could feel herself blushing. “Yea, that would be really nice,” she nodded. “And I definitely would have said yes, even if it wasn’t your birthday.”

“Great!” Gerard grinned, but the buzzing of his phone grabbed his attention. "Oh, Mikey's here."

"Have fun with him," (YN) smiled and waved as she turned to go while Gerard grabbed his jacket and keys.

"Wait," Gerard said as he locked the door and jogged over to her, just as she was reaching her door. She looked up at him expectantly and he seemed nervous again before leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Thanks again for the card."

"No problem," (YN) smiled before ducking into her own apartment to swoon.

~

A few days later, it was finally the day of their first date. Gerard suggested they go to the art museum and grab coffee. Even though they hung out all the time, the fact that this was actually a date made things ever so slightly awkward. As they walked into the museum, their hands brushed a few times before Gerard took her hand in his. She glanced over and smiled up at him and he seemed relieved. They chatted and joked happily as they walked through the exhibits before they went down the street to the cafe.

Finding a table tucked away from the others, they settled in with their coffees. The sun that had been shining when they walked in was soon covered in dark heavy clouds, and big heavy raindrops began to beat at the windows. Something about it made a shiver run down (YN)'s spine, a feeling she’d almost grown accustomed to.

"Gerard, can I ask you something kinda weird?" She asked when there was a lull in the conversation.

"Sure," he nodded.

(YN) sighed and looked down. "This is gonna sound crazy, and maybe I'm going crazy, but sometimes things get moved in my apartment, or I feel like someone or something is watching me. I've checked every inch of it and there's nothing there, but I dunno. Have you ever felt that in your apartment?" She finally looked up and was startled by Gerard's expression.

"Yea," he said softly, a look of unease on his face. "I totally know what you mean. I notice it when I’m at your place mostly, but sometimes when you come around," he trailed off.

"But, I mean, ghosts and stuff aren’t real though, right? Like It’s probably just the vibe of it being an old building.”

“Yea,” Gerard nodded with a tight smile. “Ghosts aren’t real, vampires aren’t gonna hurt you, zombies aren’t gonna eat your brain while you’re at the mall.”

“Right! You are right. I’m sure it will pass.”

After the rain stopped, they headed back to their building and headed up to the third floor, stopping in front of her door.

“I had a lot of fun today,” (YN) smiled.

“Me too,” Gerard nodded. “I, I really like you (YN). I hope we can do this again.”

(YN) grinned and nodded. “I really like you too Gee, and yes I’d really love to go out again as well.”

Gerard’s face lit up, any nervousness alleviated. He reached up, cupping her cheek gently, as her eyelids fluttered closed. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers softly, before pulling back just as quick.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” Gerard whispered.

“Then do it again,” she replied.

Gerard didn’t hesitate for a second longer, leaning back in and kissing her deeply as she kissed back. His hand found her waist as she clutched his jacket. When they finally pulled back, they were both breathless and smiling.

(YN) knew that it was the start of something special.

~

Summer arrived with warm weather and abundant sunshine, but that didn’t stop the cold drafts that would breeze through (YN)’s apartment, even when the air conditioning was off. But then the noises started. Thumps and knocks in the middle of the night, jolting her awake. Once she was convinced someone was hammering frantically on her door. In the middle of the night. She jumped out of bed and rushed to the door, checking through the peephole to see who was there. But there was no one. 

The solution that seemed to be working best was spending as much time away from the apartment, specifically out with Gerard. From picnics in the park, to going to movies, cafes, wandering around book stores or comic book shops for hours, (YN) loved every moment of it.

One evening they were watching a movie in her apartment, happily curled up on the couch together when the thumps in the wall began behind them.

“What was that?” Gerard asked, startled.

(YN) sighed. “No idea. It’s been like this for a while now. I called the maintenance guy, but he doesn't think anything is in the walls. It’s why I’ve been so tired lately, I haven’t been sleeping, like at all.”

“Do you wanna come stay over at my place tonight? Maybe you’ll sleep better,” he offered.

(YN) smiled back at him. “Ok sure,” she nodded. When the movie was over, she changed into pajamas and they made their way back over to his apartment for the night. The next morning when she woke up, she stretched and sighed happily as Gerard held her close.

“Sleep well?” Gerard asked sleepily.

“Mmhmm,” she replied, looking up at him. She reached up and brushed away the hair that was falling across his face. “Best I have in a long time.”

“You’re welcome here anytime you want, sugar,” he said leaning in and kissing her sweetly.

"I worry that I'll overstay my welcome if I’m over here that often," (YN) laughed.

"Not possible, sugar," he said with a smile. "I love getting to spend my nights with you. Days too. I guess what I’m trying to say is I love you, (YN)."

“I love you too Gerard,” she replied before leaning in and kissing him deeply.

~

September arrived and Gerard was going to be gone for the weekend with a few of his friends on a guy’s trip for his brother Mikey’s birthday. (YN) was a little nervous at first about being alone at night, to the point where she was considering going to visit her parents for the weekend. Surprisingly, she was able to sleep through the night without any noises or strange occurrences waking her up.

The next morning she got up and went to retrieve a mug from the cupboard for her morning coffee. Without warning, a glass flew down from the top shelf, smashing into her forehead. (YN) yelped in surprise and stumbled back, glass shards littering the floor. Tentatively she reached up and touched just above her brow and when she pulled back, her fingers were covered in blood.

"Shiiiiit," she groaned as she carefully stepped over the broken glass on the floor and made her way to the bathroom. Flipping on the light, she felt nauseous at the sight. Blood dripping from the gash landed and streaked down her cheek like tears, accenting the dark circles under her eyes that she just couldn't shake after so many nights of interrupted sleep. She looked like death.

"Gee must really love me if this is what he's looking at every day," she muttered as she dabbed away at the blood with a washcloth.

A few hours later while walking out the emergency department with a fresh set of stitches, she decided she may as well fill in Gerard.

Happy friday! guess where i just left!

From Gerard 💖: Work let you take a half day?

Hospital 😬 

She dropped her phone back into her purse as she made her way across the parking lot, but by the time she got the door unlocked, Gerard was calling her.

"What happened?!" He asked frantically as soon as she picked up.

(YN) sighed. "A glass fell out of my cupboard and I got a cut above my eyebrow. Just a couple stitches and I wanted to make sure they got all the glass out," she replied, downplaying the accident. She knew he'd be back in a few days and he'd know she wasn't telling the whole truth about the cut, but she didn't want him to worry or end his trip early.

"But you're ok? Do you want me to come back?"

"Yes, I'm ok. But no, don't cut your trip short, I'm gonna go straight over to my parents for the rest of the weekendI think. It's one thing when we're losing sleep with weird noises, it's another to be attacked like this."

"You… you think," he sighed, seeming to be choosing his words carefully. "That a ghost did it?" Gerard asked in a hushed tone.

"If the glass was off balance and simply fell out of the cupboard it would have gone straight down. This was thrown at me, Gee. There was force behind it."

"Fuck," Gerard muttered. "I'm sorry sugar."

"Don't worry, I'm ok, I promise."

~

(YN) was grateful that Gerard believed what she told him about the haunting of her apartment. He could have easily dismissed her or her fears as crazy and ghost her, but he didn't. He was just as concerned about the situation and her wellbeing. After that weekend they began talking about moving out as soon as their leases were up. 

It had been a couple weeks when Gerard had a meeting in the city that was going to run late into the evening, so (YN) was stuck spending the night alone in her own apartment for the first time since the attack.

As she got in bed, she wondered how long it would be before she would be woken up at night. The noises always managed to cut right through her slumber to wake her, no matter how exhausted she was when she fell asleep. And exhausted she was as her eyelids were heavy as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She wasn't sure what time it was when the noise woke her up, but she sat up in bed and looked at the ceiling. It sounded like skittering, and she wondered if it might be something as innocent as an animal stuck in the attic. 'Wouldn't it be something if it was some animal all along,' she thought as she laid back down and closed her eyes again.

What felt like only moments later she opened them again, but she was not in her room. She wasn’t even in her apartment.

“Gerard?”

He looked up from where he was sitting on the floor in front of his couch with a look of concern and fear on his face unlike any she had seen before. “(YN), are you ok?”

“No, I’m- why am I in your apartment?”

“I was asleep and some noise up in the attic woke me up, but before I could fall back asleep there was this loud bang and I went up to check what was going on because it sounded different from anything before, and you were up there on the floor like you fainted. You didn't even stir until just now when you woke up.”

(YN) shook her head. “I heard the noise too, but I went back to sleep, I didn’t even get out of bed, I went right back to sleep until I just woke up here. What could have made me faint if I wasn't even awake and can’t remember what I saw?”

Gerard ran his hand through his hair, considering her question and when he spoke, his voice shook slightly. “I… I dunno (YN). After I brought you down from the attic, I went back to your apartment so I could put you in your own bed and your door was locked.”

“But that’s not possible unless I took my keys and locked it behind me. Should we go up and look for them upstairs?”

“No!” Gerard said quickly. “I mean, I don’t want to make you stay here if you don’t want, we can call the maintenance line to let you in, but I don’t wanna go up there again. Tonight, I mean.”

(YN) climbed off the couch and sat next to him on the floor. “I’ll stay here, you know that's fine but,” she paused, taking a deep breath. “What did you see up there Gee?”

He shook his head, looking down at his hands. “We can talk about it in the morning? It’s late.”

(YN) swallowed hard and nodded. "Yea, that's a good idea."

Gerard got up, offered her a hand, helping her up. He placed a kiss to the back of her hand before leading the way to his room.

(YN) always felt safe with Gerard's arms wrapped around her holding her tight, but it was still a very poor night of sleep for both of them. The next morning (YN) and Gerard were sitting in his living room, sipping coffee in silence before (YN)'s curiosity got the best of her.

"Can you tell me what you saw up there now?" (YN) asked suddenly. 

Gerard looked up at her, the dark circles under his eyes matching hers. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Do you really wanna know?"

(YN) nodded. "I wanna understand what happened last night. Well as much of it as I can."

Gerard drew a deep breath. "Ok. I went up there when I heard the second bang. I was kinda surprised the door was open. And then I was shining my flashlight around and," he drew in a breath and shook his head. "I thought I saw someone at the far end of the attic, but my flashlight went through him. I started to panic and that's when I realized you were on the floor. I grabbed you and carried you back down here and, well you know the rest."

"You saw the ghost?" (YN) asked, her voice cracking with fear.

Gerard nodded solemnly. "I think so."

~

Gerard's words kept ringing through (YN)'s mind. There was no denying it now, she was being haunted by a ghost. She was, generally speaking, freaked out about the whole situation, but also a little curious. That's when she remembered the museum on the first floor.

The space was small, no larger than an office. Shelves were filled with books and bibles, and old black and white photos lined the walls, but one picture stood out as different from the rest. An elderly woman stood before it, gazing up at the portrait of the young man.

"Excuse me, do you know any of the history of this building?"

The elderly woman tore her eyes off the photo and looked back at (YN). "Well, I should say I do. What can I help you with?"

"I don't know how to ask this delicately, but, umm, is there any reason to believe that it might be haunted?"

The elderly woman nodded slowly. "Well, yes, I suppose there would be," she replied before glancing back at the portrait. "This was my brother, Joshua. He was in the seminary and was going to become a priest when he met her."

"Her?"

"Elenora. She was beautiful," she paused, studying (YN) for a moment, "actually you remind me of her. But he was so conflicted, he wanted to be a priest, but he was so enchanted by her. He convinced himself, and her, that the only way they could be together was in death."

"Oh no," (YN) gasped.

She nodded. "They were to jump together from the roof. He went first, she never went."

"I'm so sorry," she replied softly.

"It was 60 years ago. I had known Elenora my whole life, so I blamed myself for introducing her into his life, but I didn't blame her! I still don't. I don't admit this to many people, but we're still friends."

"You have a very forgiving heart," (YN) smiled. "Thank you for telling me all that."

She nodded. "That is what I am here for," she replied as she walked around to a small desk and picked up a dust rag before turning back to one of the shelves.

(YN) made her way back to her apartment and shut the door. "Joshua, if that's you, please leave me alone," she said. 

Nothing happened and (YN) shrugged.

~

The cool fall weather settled in and October was filled with the warm glow of red, yellow, and orange leaves on the trees outside, but by Halloween, the branches were blown bare, leaving dark, imposing branches reaching toward the sky.

Gerard's friend Frank invited them to his house for a Halloween party, and to celebrate his birthday.

A night out, dressed as Bonnie and Clyde, was exactly what they both needed after all the time they spent living in a real life haunted house for almost a year now. (YN) also loved spending time with Gerard's friends. They quickly made her feel welcome and made her future with Gerard seem even better.

It wasn't too terribly late when they decided to call it a night and headed home. "I'm gonna go change and I'll be over," (YN) said before heading into her apartment. Gerard nodded and headed to his own door.

She kicked off her shoes and dropped her jacket over the back of the chair when she felt a cold rush of air blow past her. She closed her eyes as a shiver ran through her whole body. When she opened them, again the cold air was surrounding her, wind blowing her skirt around as a freezing rain started to pelt her arms and face. Frantically she looked around, realizing she was on a rooftop. Before she could get her bearings, phantom hands were on her, pushing and pulling her toward the edge.

"No! No! Get off of me! Let go!" She screamed, flailing her arms, trying to shake off the attack. She seemed to break free and started to run toward the hatch to the attic.

The hands grabbed her ankle and sent her tumbling to the rough surface of the roof. When she looked over her shoulder, a figure made of a shadowy mist was pulling her by the leg toward the edge.

"No! Stop it! No!" She screamed again, her hands scratching at the roof, trying to make purchase.

From behind her she heard a bang. She looked up and saw Gerard at the opening to the attic. "(YN)!"

"Gee! Help!"

"Let her go!" Gerard commanded as he ran to (YN), pulling her off the ground and wrapping her in his arms protectively. She buried her face against his shoulder as she clutched his shirt. "Are you ok? I got you sugar, you’re safe now."

"No, no I'm not ok," she sobbed.

"Come on, let's get inside."

Gerard helped her down the ladder and carried her down the stairs to his apartment. He set her down in the bathroom and set to work cleaning the cuts across her hands, legs, and feet.

"Gee, I don't wanna stay here tonight, I can’t stay here anymore, I have to move or I’m gonna end up dead!" (YN) cried as Gerard wiped the blood away from her palm.

"I know sugar, I'll get you cleaned up and we'll go find a hotel room tonight, ok?" (YN) sniffled and nodded in agreement. “And then in the morning we’re gonna find a new place to live, you and me.”

(YN) had been watching as he worked, but hearing him say that she looked up at him. “Together? Even after all this? What if it follows me?!"

He reached up and wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheek. “Together. Nothing's gonna come between us, not even a ghost."

A smile finally broke across her face as he placed bandages on the worst cuts. Then she finally changed out of her soaked and bloodied Halloween costume and into a pair of Gerard's sweatpants and an old hoodie. She didn't have shoes, but she didn't care. She wasn't going back into her apartment until the day she was going back to pack it up and move out. And even then, she was considering hiring someone to do it for her.

"Ready to go?" He asked when she walked out of his room.

"Let’s get away from here," she nodded and he took her hand. They hurried through the cold rain to his car and she sighed as she sunk into the passenger seat. She finally felt free.

Gerard started down the long tree-lined drive when suddenly a large tree limb came crashing down in front of them. (YN) screamed as Gerard slammed on the breaks.

"Shit! Are you ok?" He asked breathlessly.

"Look!" She whimpered, pointing a shaking finger out the window. Gerard looked as well at the ghastly figure on the other side of the branch. Gerard put the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Gee, what are you doing? Gee? Gerard! Stop it, get back in here!" She cried frantically as he got out of the car. Not knowing what else to do, she scrambled out as well.

"Give her to me!" The phantom wailed, striking cold terror through her. "I gave my life for my love, she belongs to me!"

"This is not your love!" Gerard shouted back.

She moved to stand next to Gerard, interlacing her fingers with his. "I'm not Elenora! I've never done you wrong!" She pleaded. "Gerard is my true love! Let us pass!"

The phantom's face contorted, snarling, teeth growing long, fingers becoming claw-like. (YN) screamed in fright as Gerard stepped in front of her. As the ghost launched at them, headlights came up the drive, shining bright in their eyes, and the phantom faded into nothing.

The other car stopped and the driver got out. "Need help moving that branch outta the way? Woah, you two look like you've seen a ghost," the man laughed.

Gerard shook his head and looked back at (YN) sympathetically. "Well, it is Halloween."

~

A few months later (YN) and Gerard had settled into their new place. There was nothing in the new place that (YN) would describe as too good to be true. Their commutes were longer, they had to go to the laundromat to do laundry, and they were paying more in rent, but they were together and they finally had peace. And that was worth every penny.

“Hey Gee,” (YN) said as she padded into the living room one Saturday afternoon, holding something behind her back.

“Yea sugar?”

“So I’ve been working on something. I’m not sure it’s any good, but I think it’s finally ready for you to look at.”

Gerard sat up and looked up at her curiously. “What is it?” (YN) handed him a binder. “The Haunting on Holy Name Hill."

“A long time ago, back when we first met, you said I should try writing or drawing if I’m interested in it because you never know when inspiration will strike, and since moving out of that awful place I’ve been trying to wrap my head around everything that happened. So I started writing about it," she shrugged. "I fictionalized some of the events and changed our names, but can you read it and tell me if it’s any good?”

“(YN) I’m so proud of you,” he said with a smile as he got up and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m gonna read it right now.”

“If you insist. I’m gonna go to the laundromat.”

A while later when (YN) came back, Gerard wasn’t on the couch where she’d left him. “Hey Gee, did you finish reading it yet?”

“Yep,” she heard him reply as he came back from the second bedroom they’d set up as his office. “And I have something to show you too.”

“What’s that?”

“First of all, wow, the story is so well written!” he grinned.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, you’re a natural! And second, look,” he said handing her a stack of drawings.

“What are these?”

“I was thinking, if you want, we could pitch your story as a graphic novel and these are some drawings I did when I was reading it. This is your character, this one is me.”

“Gee, these are amazing! And you really think that it’s publishable?”

“I really do,” he nodded.

“Ok yea, let’s do it. Other than being the place where we met, there should be some kind of good that comes from that awful place. And maybe serve as a warning to everyone else about things that seem too good to be true."

congrats on the milestone!! scenario with atsumu and osamu under ☁︎ 1? thank you for writing! your blog is so wonderful!

prompt: ☁︎ #1 -> things you argue about + how you argue

roomies: the miya twins

genre: angst but I rlly suck at writing angst so there’s more humor in this than actual angst I'm sorry 😭 but there will be crying I promise

warning(s): swearing, semi-failed angst

my note to you: tysm you’re so kind 🥺💓 idk why but just you thanking me for writing is really making my heart go on x games mode ❤️🚴‍♀️🏂🤸🏻‍♀️

roomie arguments with the miya twins [scenario]

the things you argue about vary, but usually center around cleaning and sharing snacks

you appreciate that osamu likes to cook and will make food for everyone, but you hate how atsumu will never help you clean up after him in return

also, neither of them are very good at keeping the house itself tidy, and you feel like you’re always stepping on crumbs or tripping over charging cords/shoes they’ve left out in the living room

they also have a tendency to demolish your snack stash from time to time and will leave just a tiny bit behind so they don’t actually have to throw it away 😒

like, it’s seriously annoying to open your tub of ice cream after a long day and find one spoonful left in it, or find like three cheetos and a shit ton of crumbs left at the bottom of a bag you bought yesterday

the way you argue is usually civil, but when the three of you have had a long day/are in a mood, things get a little savage and you’ll raise your voices at each other

words will be said that you regret when tensions start running high, unfortunately

but, just know that they will always apologize and try to be better, even if that apology takes days to arrive

Upon returning home from a long day of school and work, there’s nothing more you want to do than head to the fridge, grab that container of ice cream that you got specially for yourself yesterday, and drown your sorrows its sweetness. However, on your way to the fridge, you end up tripping over a laptop charger strewn along the floor from where it’s plugged into the wall. After taking a long moment to glare at the white cord that’s wronged you, your journey to the fridge continues.

And when you open the door to the freezer up top, you come to the horrific, gut-wrenching realization that your ice cream is nowhere to be found. Frantically, you sift through all the bags frozen peas for Atsumu’s volleyball-related injuries, and various, floating pieces of frozen food that Osamu never remembered to thaw like he said he would--but your search comes up empty. Slowly, you shut the freezer door with dismay and trudge over to the recycling bin.

There, you find the empty ice cream container with your name written on the side of it.

Grabbing it, you storm down the hallway and knock on the doors belonging to both your roommates before waiting patiently outside. As soon as they’re both standing in their respective doorways, watching you with nearly identical, curious gazes, you hold up the evidence.

“Who ate this?” you ask, (e/c) eyes narrowed as your gaze flickers between the two of them.

Without saying a word, Atsumu and Osamu point at one another, and then proceed to give each other disgusted looks at the fact. “Yer always eatin’ stuff that ain’t yers!” Osamu growls at his brother.

“But ya’ve got that tendency to dig into our snack stashes when yer feelin’ peckish!” Atsumu retorts.

Before the two of them can get into what you’re sure will turn into another shouting match, you walk into the living room, grab the laptop charger, and bring it back to them as another piece of evidence, hoping that one of them will come forward for each crime. “Who left this out? I swear I’ve tripped over it six times today,” you wonder.

Osamu reaches towards you to retrieve the charger and admits, “’Kay, that one’s on me. My bad. I forgot to take it back into my room ‘fore I went ta the restaurant.”

When your gaze returns to Atsumu’s face, he’s biting his lower lip while his eyebrows are furrowed in what appears to be an expression of guilt. “Listen,” he says, voice somewhat strained, “I jus’ really wanted somethin’ ta eat while I watched Netflix.”

Normally, his dumb excuses don’t strike much of a nerve, since you’re expecting them and, therefore, are able to shrug them off. Tonight, however, him eating your ice cream without so much as telling you happens to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. 

“I'm so fucking sick and tired of your attitude, ‘Tsumu!” you growl, balling your hands up into fists, “You have everything you want. You’re playing volleyball professionally, you’re a public heartthrob, and you enjoy what you do. I hate my fucking job, my coworkers, and my classmates; and the only thing that was keeping me going today was knowing that I had that ice cream to eat later, but you went ahead and took that too because you always get what you want!”

Before you know it, hot tears are streaming down your face, and you’re having to use the sleeve of your sweater to wipe them away. “Hey, that ain’t fair! I’ve worked my ass off for everythin’ I have!” he argues, voice sharp enough to cut through you like a knife.

“Well, damn it, why don’t you do any work around the house? I'm always the one stuck doing your chores and cleaning up after you, but you don’t care! You just put your feet up while I vacuum right beneath ‘em every single time and eat my food!”

Atsumu wants to defend himself, but he finds he can’t when he realizes that this dispute is about more than just ice cream. Osamu’s watching him with a knowing gaze, as if silently agreeing with you and insisting that he puts his pettiness aside for the sake of your friendship and the household’s tranquility. Following a tense moment of listening to you sob quietly into your hands, Atsumu wanders over towards you and pulls you into a tight embrace, resting his chin atop your head when you bury it in his chest.

“I’m sorry, (f/n),” he apologizes, “I’ll get off my ass ‘nd help ya more often.”

“I’m sorry for getting upset, ‘Tsumu.” Your whimper is muffled by the fabric of his hoodie, but it still reaches his ears.

With a small smile, he pulls away from you and suggests, “Put on somethin’ comfy, and we can go to the store so I can buy ya a whole new tub of ice cream, ‘kay?”

  ⭐︎ fran’s 600 milestone event! (reqs closed, interactions welcome!)

10 Things I Hate About You • 002

masterlist • 001, 002, 003... coming soon

Chapter Two — Heinous Bitches & Cliché Bets

summary: intro to kacey & the bet is made between kelce + topper

word count: 2196

warnings: mentions of smut like two or three lines total, swear words, and high school stupidity. oh, how i miss the dickstains i go to school with 😌.

a/n: i actually love writing kacey's character. n e who, this is for @popcsheyward because i'm making jj simp for u

Deep in the heart of the high school, a class of bored and inattentive seniors doodle in their notebooks and up the exposed skin on their arms; others text, their phones “hidden” beneaths their desks. Kacey Brooks was in the middle of it all. Everyone knew her, whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was the advent of spring, encroaching on summer, and on an island, that means it is hot. But, there Kacey sat, in baggy denim jeans, cuffed above her ankle so the hems didn’t drag along the floor. Her hands were tucked underneath her denim-clad thighs as she leaned over the desk, tracing the looping font that said “Romeo and Juliet” on the cover of the book on her desk with her eyes. God, she hated that book. They read it in Sophomore year, and she didn’t understand why they had to read the stupid play again.

The English teacher, Mr. Martin stood from his swivel chair, picking up his own copy of Romeo and Juliet just to drop it down on the podium, catching the drifting seniors’ attention. “Okay, slackers. What did you think of the play?”

A girl in the back of the classroom, another clean cut Kook with pink lip gloss and tight crop tops raised her hand. With a smile, she rushed into her opinion, not bothering to get permission to speak. It was a well known fact that in the Outer Banks it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. “It was so romantic. I loved it.”

Kacey’s brows stitched together, not mulling over her personal rebuttal for more than a moment before looking over her shoulder at the girl. Her eyes were glossy, lost in her romanization of the play. Ever since the second semester of her freshman year when she just snapped, she had been braving each day, treating it as a singular battle in the war against high school ignorance. “Romeo and Juliet was not romantic. It was two people having a teenage rebellion and wallowing in their own angst. They simply wanted an escape from their family lives. And Shakespeare? He was a racist, anti-semetic misogynist who is praised when he couldn’t decide on one way to spell his own name.”

The entirety of the class rolled their eyes, including Mr. Martin. It hadn’t been the first time Kacey had spoken out on her take on the social issues that came with the authors of novels and how they correlate to modern day society. Kelce, a Kook Prince of the highest degree and sitting to the left of Kacey, pokes at the metaphorical bear. “As opposed to a friendless, holier-than-thou wench?”

The girls pining after Kelce for his looks or trust fund giggled, despite his dig into the girl next him not being all that funny. Mr. Martin slapped the wooden podium with his Folger Shakespeare Library copy of Romeo and Juliet. “Pipe down, Slick.”

Kacey pulled the hem of her army green crop top to cover the slight bit of tanned skin exposed before quipping, “I guess having a dick and being a dick makes you entitled to our time.” The brunette pushed the hair falling over her forehead out of the way before waving her copy of the play in the air. “What about Sylva Plath or, I don’t know, Emily Bronte for all I care.”

Before Mr. Martin could respond with his own activistic rebuttal, Rafe Cameron walks into class, holding up a copy of the first Harry Potter book and raising his eyebrows, silently questioning whether that was the right book. He knew it wasn’t. “What’d I miss?”

A Pogue who was a known theatre nerd started humming the tune to the song from Hamilton titled What’d I Miss while Kacey all but spun in her seat. “Just the patriarchal values that run this lovely institution and corrupt the minds of dimwitted Kelce’s everywhere.”

Rafe nodded along to Kacey’s statement and through to her next breath, not having stopped in between words to breathe. “Good.” After his simple response, he immediately turned on his heel and walked back down the hall, rather enduring more uncomfortable conversations with the Dean than English class.

Kacey and Rafe had no ill will towards each other, only being able to base an opinion off the presumed stereotypes of each other that get passed around the school. Kacey and Rafe had known each other for a long time. When they were six, Kacey’s father was Rose Cameron’s obstetrician, seeing as he’s the best on the Outer Banks and the Camerons are the richest on the Outer Banks. That’s where they met: outside his stepmother’s hospital room, playing chopsticks with their fingers while they sat cross-legged on the tile floor, drinking apple juice from juice boxes. That’s where their friendship ended. They hadn’t really spoken since, only having that snapshot into reality before the doors were closed. Kacey was popular, had many more friends than Rafe did, and boys trailed her. When freshman year rolled around, he kept his distance because he knew he would walk away with a sharp pain in his groin. That was just how she carried herself, and he carried himself differently.

Mr. Martin attempted to call after Rafe, only to hear the cicadas buzzing outside.

“Mr. Martin, do you think we could get Kacey to take her Midol before class?” Kelce asks, his signature smirk gracing his face as he continued his quest to make Kacey’s life a living Hell. Snickers erupted from the class, causing Kelce’s smugness to go to his head, lifting himself onto his selfmade pedestal.

“One day, you’re gonna get bitch-slapped right across that brazen face of yours, and I’m not gonna do anything to stop it. Kacey, thank you for your input.” As Mr. Martin took a brief pause, Kacey smiled to herself, please that her social activism finally was justified by authority. He continued, “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to overcome upper-class, Kook oppression. It must’ve been awful.” Her chest puffed out with pride deflated at his words. She knew he was right. “But the next time you storm the school board campaigning for more recycling bins or whatever you white girls complain about, ask them why they can’t buy a book written by a Black man!”

“Understood. Anything else?” Kacey asked, looking straight past Mr. Martin and out the window overlooking the quad behind him.

“Yeah, go to the office, you’re pissing me off.” Her neck whipped to look at her English teacher at his words, opening her mouth to argue, but he shot her a stern look and pointed towards the door. In Kacey’s rageful frenzy, she decked Kelce in the face with her bag as she stormed out of the classroom towards the office.

The Dean sat in her office, her rouge painted nails clicking against the keys on her keyboard as the sleazy thoughts in her head transferred onto the Word document housing her novel. She whispered to herself as her fingertips ghosted the letter labeled keys on her laptop. She snapped her head up, calling out to the secretary, asking for her to look up another word for ‘engorged’ despite being able to pull up the thesaurus on her computer.

“Tumescent?” Kacey suggested as she walked into the small, pink office.

The Dean snapped her fingers, pointing at Kacey as she morphed her hand into a finger gun. “Perfect!” Kacey swung her bag off her shoulder and onto the ground next to the chair in which she seated herself. “I hear you’re terrorizing English class again.”

“Last time I checked, it wasn’t just English class, and expressing my opinions is not a terrorist action.” The eighteen-year-old raised her eyebrows indignantly, her head nodding slightly in authoritativeness.

The Dean smiled sarcastically at Kacey, “The way you expressed your opinion to Topper Thornton? His testical retrieval operation went quite well, if you’re interested.”

“I maintain he swung his own golf club up his legs like a field goal.” Kacey crossed her arms over her chest. She settled into her chair. Her conversations with the crude woman in front of her always went the same way; Mr. Martin threw her out of class for existing, and her previous deeds suddenly have updates that the Dean thinks Kacey should know about.

“The point I’m trying to make is that people think you’re a heinous bitch and you should work on it.” Her eyes flickered to her still open laptop and back up to the eighteen-year-old. “What do you think about blood sex?”

“Okay, yeah, this has been lovely, however,” grabbing her backpack, she swung it over her shoulder as she rose from the uncomfortable chair. “I think I’ll let you get back to Chris chokeslamming Jackie into a wall.”

As Kacey left the office to walk the halls of Kildare County High School, the Dean seemed to take her words into serious consideration, whispering Kacey’s final sentiment under her breath as she typed the word ‘chokeslam.’

. . .

Kelce leant against the stone wall that surrounded the courtyard and only rose to about waist-high of even the shortest of students. His best friend and fellow poster child for the effects of affluenza, Topper Thornton ( who is very acquainted with Kacey Brooks and her golf club swing ), stood next to him, the two of them surveying the inhabitants of the grassy lawn in the back of the school. Topper noticed Gracie walking through the gap in the stone wall, her Spanish textbook pressed to her chest as she nodded along to what Arianna said next to her. The familiar breeze carrying the scent of the ocean and the feeling of home blew the short strands of Gracie’s hair that framed her face in almost an angelic way, and her sundress that fell to her mid-thigh swayed as she walked. Gracie and Arianna were picturesque, almost like they actively strived to be compared to Cher and Dionne from Clueless.

With a carnal smirk, Topper elbowed Kelce, muttering “Virgin alert” as the sophomore passed the two guys, smiling and waving at Kelce as they went.

“Lookin’ good, ladies.” As if Kelce’s remark was a que, Gracie and Arianna pushed forward, leaving the hormonal teenager guys watching them like they were prey for them to catch.

“No way, Bro. They’re outta your league.”

“No one’s out of my league.” Kelce’s eyes didn’t leave Gracie as she distanced herself from them.

Topper pulled fifty dollars out of his pocket, “Wanna bet?”

“Nah, I’ve got money. This’ll be for fun.” Kelce pushed Topper’s hand that was holding onto the bill away and dapped up his empty hand, sealing the deal. Kelce was about to embark on one of the most cliché, tropical bets of his high school experience.

“Just look at her, man.” JJ watched Gracie and Arianna pass him, John B, and Pope. He followed her with love struck eyes and wistful pining.

Pope tilted his head, the cap that sat on his head almost falling off his head as he tried to understand his friend’s mindset. “She’s just so…”

“Perfect?” JJ offered.

John B and Pope shared a glance, rolling their eyes at JJ’s suggestion. “I was going to say ditzy.” John B replied.

“How can you say that?” JJ turned to glance at his friends who were totally unimpressed by the girl that captured almost all the guy’s hearts at the high school. “She’s totally…”

“Narcissistic?” Pope said, getting a nod from John B in agreement.

“That’s her sister, c’mon, guys.” JJ waved his hand in the air for emphasis. There was no way Gracie was like Kacey. They were too polar. “There’s more to her than you think. See her smile? She’s totally pure.”

“Yeah, pure money. She’s a Kook, dude.” John B ran a hand through his overgrown brunet locks. “What’s there is a snotty princess wearing a dress that was purposefully planned to make Pogues like you realize you can’t have her and Kooks like Kelce and Topper want her.”

“Besides, JJ, you know the rule. It’s not like she could date you even if she wanted to.” Pope added on, readjusting his baseball cap to fit snugly on his head.

“Put her in the Spank Bank and move on, Bro.” John B and Pope started walking in the opposite direction, lunch was about to start.

JJ jogged to catch up, shaking his head in denial. “Nah.”

“Move on, man. Jizz Wizz and then dip.” Pope reiterated John B’s sentiment as JJ held his arm out, stopping them in their tracks in front of the bulletin board to the right of the door into school.

“She needs a Spanish tutor,” He ripped the paper advertisement off the cork board.

“You can’t even speak Spanish.”

“What do you mean?” JJ looked at John B as he traced Gracie’s phone number printed on the paper.

“Broken Spanish and fantasizing about lobsters from Yucatan doesn’t mean you know Spanish.” Pope pulled the paper out of JJ’s hand, ready to tack it back to the board before JJ took it again.

“Okay, so I don’t know Spanish, but I will.”

tags — @perkily @mortifiedposts @poguequeen @abigailpankow @curlybrownhairedboys @steverogers123 @outerbankslut @jayjaymaebank @jjssarah @whOreforharry @wowitswondergurl @anonymous0writer @kodi8314 @outrbank @aestheticcraze @kylosleftbuttcheek @x-lulu @dailygrace06 @calswildflower95 @insanitysparkles @prejudic3 @ilovejjmaybank @apoguecalledjj @xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooo @calumbroutledge @rudys-pankow @bxllasanosa @write-from-the-heart @thelocalpogue @fandomsinapile @starkeymarkey @lovingxjj @beatement-l @drew-starkey @beckester @butgilinsky @kayak-huesgen @everydayimfangirling @delinquentstarkey @g4bster @crumpetsandmarmite

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COFFEE SHOP AU PT 4

SEGMENT THREE of four cause it turned out segment three is so long I cant put it in one post XD

After Cruentus had left to make the tea, Hat curled back up onto the bed, was he as bad as Vincent…with his inability to ever truly let Acylius go?

Nuzzling against the pillow Flug used to lay his head on , Amadeus whimpered softly…no if his Acylius did not…could not love him in this new life, he would never make him do anything he didn’t want to do, he could never do what Vincent had done to Flug, ever.

Now that he was the one with power he knew one thing, he would protect Acylius from ever being hurt or harmed again, if someone so much as tried to he would destroy them without second thought.

Pulling the pillow to his chest he cuddled it closer, knowing he was down there, in the town in that little coffee shop, so close and yet so far away was far more heart wrenching than anyone could imagine, to have those eyes look at him and not recognise him…a small part of him wondered if he should be in his life again…after all he had been the final piece to fall into place to set in motion the events that would lead to Acylius’s death…

Oh he knew Acylius would tell him it was always meant to happen, that it wasn’t his fault…idiot man, he could have lived and left the Elderichts to rot…let him rot in the gutters with them, if all his kindness only ended up with him being killed for it…

Hat curled in tighter feeling the guilt of that thought twist in his gut, to think it was dishonouring all Lulu had fought for, all he’d done only had him curl up tighter, often he’d wished he’d been able to save him, be there just in time and be his hero…the irony of those words…yet being a hero…was not all what modern day society made it out to be with brightly coloured suits and pulling in fans…it was about doing the right thing and stepping up…as much as Acylius had his darkness…

In his own right, to the Elderichts…he was their hero, who kept his name quiet out of respect because it was what his stupid tree had wanted…if he’d had his way he’d have built a statue, had books written about him, the finest artists make portrait galleries out of him, made the universe aware of his existence, a proclamation of love for everyone to hear spoken across time and space…

But no…that was not his Doctor Flug; his Acylius whispered like the spring breeze through the blossom trees he loved so much only becoming a thunderous fearful storm when called for, he was absolutely ridiculous at times, daft as anything to when he was in the safety of his own home…he could not forget that first morning….

(Wavy scene and flash back music, shrugs I’m just like that and finally using an old ramble of mine <3) and I will let you know when the flash back ends ❤️

Hat looked himself over in the mirror, he’d straightened out his tie and suit, even though his ears were hidden under his top hat even brushed the fur on them, made sure he was as presentable as he could be, after all he did not know what half of these fancy contraptions laid out on his…was it his dressing table.

That idiot Legion Demon just came out of nowhere and was all here have a place to sleep, a room of your own, even though you’re in heat I won’t take advantage of you or even touch you, honestly what was he supposed to do with that, anyone else would have taken what they wanted and left him there.

Hat huffed, why was he so upset that Acylius…no no he couldn’t call him that, he was Doctor Flug, Legion Demon, a creature highly sought after, if he wasn’t careful about how he spoke to the demon he might push his luck too far and be kicked out, that would not exactly be something new but…this time…even if they’d just met yesterday, he found himself not wanting to leave.

He would do what he needed to do, to placate him, to sooth his temper if he had one, most of his kind liked sex after all right, he did too honestly but…when it was consensual, but he was not above doing what needed to be done to keep a roof over his head within reason…though he still couldn’t deny he was somewhat miffed Acylius had not come in last night and just taken him, at least he would have been one of the more attractive…

Who was he fooling, he found the Legion demon beautiful, and what was he?

(This is my story and I will have hat all dreamy about the tree like some romance novel if I want XD)

A short little thing that had crawled out of a heap…he knew he deserved more, that his kind should not be living such poor lives, to be used as food, as toys or experiments, but too many of them had accepted their fates and he’d agreed to leave knowing his determination of better to rise up would only cause them problems…and well they already had enough of those.

Black Hat looked over the room he’d been given, that bed was so soft he thought he might have sunk into it never to be seen again, the on suite bathroom filled with so many different bottles of this, that and the other left him overwhelmed, usually he’d had to share baths with those he’d stayed with.

Hands on the dressers edge, his claws digging lightly into the wood, this was his chance, his first real big chance to make his place be more than what he was, to prove to all these rich elitist snobs that you did not need to come from riches to belong, that everyone was equal when things were made even and equal.

Yes when he had his stand, he would show them but for now he was going to go downstairs and show the Legion demon the respect he no doubt felt he deserved, there was no possible way there was not a catch in all of this somewhere.

He went first to the kitchen, it was silent and well no one was around and the bin seemed to need changing, stuffed full of scraps of food...with the word recycle carved into it, well no one was there yet he could find himself a bite to eat out of it, it was unlikely Acylius or his butler would serve him anything but what came from here anyway right.

Lifting the lid he didn’t even flinch at the smell, he’d eaten from worse places after all, Black Hat had been about to reach a hand in when he heard someone clearing their throat at the door way, he froze, was this it the thing that would get him turned out now, he was only taking food no longer wanted…his fingers stretched then curled, hand falling back by his side and waited.

“Sir, if Acylius saw you eating from the bins it would upset him greatly…”

Cruentus walked up by his side briskly and shut the lid

“Why because I was stealing something no longer wanted?”

Hat returned looking up at Cruentus, his gaze defiant and shoulders drawn back, he was not ashamed of finding food where he could when he needed it.

“No, because the thought he’d let you starve or feel you would ever go without food here would mortify him.”

Hat blinked as he listened to the hellhounds sombre tone, well that was unexpected

“Oh and why is that?”

It looked as if the butler had wanted to tell but his maw was kept shut on the matter shaking his head

“That is not my story to tell, perhaps the master will tell you eventually himself…now what do you want for breakfast.”

“I doubt you would give me anything with bacon.”

Hat replied looking away…this place was odd indeed.

“Do you want it thick cut? Smoked or not? Crispy or not?”

Cruentus inquired walking past him again and tied on his apron

“Th-there’s more than one way to have it?” Hat answered completely lost at that answer

“I see, I will make you a whole selection then, I assure you the master would want you to be able to learn what you like, though be warned he might pinch a piece of the crispy bacon.”

Cruentus laughed setting out the frying pans.

Pinch a piece of food from someone else’s plate? A Legion demon would never do such a thing, not a high class creature like Doctor Flug, no…it wasn’t possib- and then he saw the tall, long legged demon entering the room, scratching at his head, wearing grey sweat pants and a jumper to match, looking nothing like the being he’d met yesterday, adorned with a five o clock shadow, his hair not even brushed and fluffy slippers.

Hat stood there, slack jawed as Acylius yawned, fangs bared a moment and then just looking sleepy but happy

“Good morning Black Hat, I trust you slept well?”

Damn it his voice was that deep soft rumbling gravel …he could have read him the phone book and his ears would have perked up just to listen to each soothing syllable that left those scarred lips.

(I described it once as being like James Spader’s voice you might know the voice of Ultron from age of ultron or Alucard from Hellsing)

Of course the first thing to come out of Hat’s mouth was not exactly the appropriate answer as he sputtered

“Is this!? I mean is this how you usually live?!”

Cruentus bit his lip; forcing back the laugh that swelled within his chest, ohhhh apparently this little creature was in for a wakeup call if Hat thought he was living with a snobby demon indeed!

Acylius looked at him then opened the cupboard pulling out something akin to the lucky charms cereal only in this world it had little devils and demons and pentagons all pastel coloured

“Not when I have certain guests over, after all some demons will not see you unless you put on airs, a display that you are high class, boring stuff really if you ask me.”

He shrugged pulling now the milk from the fridge and was about to drink from the carton

“Boy, what have I told you about doing that? Don’t make me tap your ears young man.”

Cruentus pointed the tongs at him that he used to turn the bacon in the pan, snapping them at him.

Acylius’s ears went down as he smiled sheepishly, cheeks tinting pink

“Sorry Papa, I know it’s a bad habit.”

Did Doctor Flug’s butler just reprimand him, was Flugs Butler his father….what the huh?

Hat shook his head, what in all of hell what going on, standing up straight he looked up at them

“I am a guest here you could at least treat me as such, I have done my best to be proper like the rich are and…”

Acylius loomed over him, looking much like those silhouette pictures you see in animations when they’re going for the threatening look

“Is this what you want Amadeus for me to look down on you, I do not take kindly to my guests, they know visiting me and one wrong word can put them in poor favour with me…”

His eyes glowed white there was not colour in them and in that mass of black his smile grew and grew, showing off bright white fangs thin and needle like, another one appeared and another all of them speaking as he prodded him

“IS this what you want Amadeus, for me to be the monster they expect me to be?”

Cruentus raised a brow, oh so Hat liked what he saw before him did he, it was pretty obvious with how transfixed he was.

Amadeus pulled off his hat and played with it in his hands letting it fall below the waist, doing his best to subtly hide something that showed he enjoyed seeing this darker side of Acylius, Cruentus of course only shook his head and continued on the bacon, oh lord he could see how this was going to go eventually anyway.

Acylius froze, cat ears, fluffy black cat ears …Amadeus had, he wanted to touch them so much, to run his claws over them and nuzzle into the soft fur, his display disappeared, back into the grey sweats and dishevelled hair, cereal and milk in his hands and then the softest look that made Hat want to reach out and touch his face and let him know everything would be alright.

“I am sorry if I frightened you Amadeus…but you are not a guest you are a housemate and I want you to know you can be relaxed here in this place in your home if you so wish it to be your home.”

He turned and went to sit at the table about to pour milk into the box of cereal when Cruentus placed a bowl and spoon in front of him

“Stop that I know you’re just trying to be this extra lazy to vex me.”

Cruentus chuckled tapping the top of his head

“Perhaps I am, but you like knowing I still want you to do little things for me now and again Papa.”

“What kind of Father would I be if I were not there for my son hmm?”

Cruentus answered affectionately before going off to serve up the bacon.

Hat, was still standing shifting on his feet.

“Can I sit to?”

Cruentus came along with the plate and literally picked hat up by the back of the neck right where he knew he’d turn into a kitten and curl up completely compliant

“Dumbass he said you’re a house mate you can sit whenever you want.”

He sat him on the seat across from Acylius and set the plate down

“Bon appetit Amadeus, being welcomed to stay in the home by Acylius is honestly a rare thing…very rare.”

“Cruentus, can you please not do that again, I abhor when that is done to me.”

Hat ground out between clenched teeth, hands balled up into fists and ears laid back, his hat sitting on his lap, the problem he’d had was now gone, placing his hat back on, he expected Cruentus to snap at him or punish him…after all he was still…a…a sewer rat to everyone who wasn’t one of his kind…there was no reason for these demons to treat him like he…mattered.

“My apologies Amadeus, I should not have been so forward in my actions, I will not do that again.”

Hat only grumbled and started munching on the bacon using his fingers to pick it up

“Fork, Amadeus and knife if you want to start appearing proper in front of polite company.”

“Yes sir.”

“My name is Acylius, not sir, master or Doctor Flug behind closed doors and out of the ears of others, I suppose if it makes you comfortable you can call me Flug if you do not feel on a first name basis with me.”

“Really, that is a little too personal do you not think Doctor Flug?”

Black Hat sneered, after all was that not the way of the rich, to act better, to be Impersonal.

“Honestly at this rate I will leave as your actions have been highly disappointing and not what I expected of a Legion demon such as yourself.”

Was he doing it right, was he acting like the higher class do?

The room fell silent, a fist hitting the table making the cutlery rattle

“Amadeus Black Hat, you will not talk to him like that, what are you going to do? Return to living in motel rooms, drifting from place to place to be used like a toy, the next house you go into you will not come out of…except through the sewers as faecal matter.”

Acylius placed a hand on Cruentus’s arm; his father huffed and turned away

“The higher ups out there, most of them couldn’t give two shit’s they would sooner kill you…if I had not arrived Amadeus when I did …it would literally be a matter of moments before their assassins ascended on you and left your corpse in the street…”

The legion demon poked at his cereal, it’d gone soggy now and honestly he’d lost his appetite

“I’ve assigned you as my being, by law and the ways of a Legion this means they cannot touch you but only when I am with you or Cruentus is with you…I promised myself I would never do that, but I know what you are trying to do and I have already been trying to help the cause.”

Hat’s breath stilled, those eyes the way they changed hues of blue fleeting through emotions, assigned himself, he’d already been helping what did that mean he would ask soon it was clear the doctor was not done

“Amadeus outside of this home I now belong to you in their eyes like a pedigree dog, it’s what they see Legion demons as, they must treat us at least with respect and some kindness if they do not want their fortune to fall, but in this home. I am what I have always been, Acylius Flug the Free Legion, those who are on our side will know this, but I am going to use my ridiculously high class to teach you to be a refined villain and to be like them if you so wish to be a monster.”

Ah so that was what assigned meant, to be his …good luck charm to be the reason the dice fell in his favour so to speak, he’d given up his freedom in a sense for him…

“Amadeus’s I would tell you to take your elbows off the table as it is considered rude but in this place I am going to live my life as I wish to, as I want to, I only want to run a quiet little coffee shop , perhaps find a partner and live a quieter life…”

Acylius leaned back and placed his feet on the table and Amadeus’s looked along the length of those legs, holy …they were long.

“How did you find me?”

Amadeus asked quietly.

Acylius pulled a cigarette from nowhere, his thumb lighting up with a blue flame to light it, it was not a thing humans could inhale, despite it‘s sweet lavender scent, scratching lightly at his stubble he took a drag and let the taste settle on his tongue and the warmth of the smoke swirl within his lungs before exhaling, they were also not toxic but used as a relaxant with nothing that could cause harm.

“You were not exactly subtle about your notions, you let too many of the wrong ears hear your plans, your thoughts about inequality, there is always a high caste group who will detest such on goings and try to keep what they consider balance, to them you’re dangerous Amadeus…the thought that could get your kind to rise up if they feel there is reason and hope to.”

He paused again to take another puff

“Your kind were not always in the sewers, but I have not uncovered much of your history but I see you as a kindred spirit, both wanting better for our kind, I do not expect you to help my cause, but I ask one thing, if you do become some great overlord that over throws them…free the Legions from the contracts they are bound to, let them always have free choice to leave if they so desire to…once bound we cannot be freed unless our assigned master allows it.”

“I give you my word Flug, if you can truly help me, and mean what you are offering I will do what you ask…and I…I am sorry, I have had the idea all high people were the same even in their homes I forget that even those who reign in gold palaces have hearts…and own personal problems…do you all hide behind those marble masks of cold in public?”

Hat replied, offering out a piece of bacon, after all Cruentus had said Acylius did like pinching off other people’s plates and it’d seemed the doctor had gone off his cereal, it was a crispy piece so far his favourite of the lot but he wanted to share it with him.

Hat’s heart raced as their finger tips came in contact and Acylius actually took the piece and thanked him for it before proceeding to munch on it happily

“Thank you Black Hat, I can only hope you will stand to that promise, I have willingly pledged my life to you…and to answer your question, most of them do not wear emotional masks they are just that up their own ass and that cold…perhaps you have seen me around before…”

With a wave of his hand his face was cleaned up and hair tidied as well as scars hidden away he pulled a face one would expect a cold creature to pull.

“Oh dear lord you’re the one Vincent would not stop going on about…I remember him constantly talking about you, literally has a shrine of you in his bedroom…he let me stay one night after I fixed his coat for him.”

“Bah that daft obsessed Rabbit demon, often I have thought of putting him in a racing track and letting hounds chase after him, I wonder how he would feel about me then.”

He let the illusion fade and returned back to his dishevelled state letting a ring of smoke drift Hat’s way, the angle he was at made it circle the rough top hat perfectly, his ears perked up

“Ahh yes there it is, your organization shall be called Black Hat Organization, Evil is our business, and business is good!”

With a flick of his wrist a white card stood between two finger tips, he tossed it to Amadeus who caught it and saw the image, a silhouette of a top hat and a black ring with the business name under it.

“Now before we start any kind of business I will need to train and guide you and awaken such powers within you, not even you could imagine.”

End of Flash back

End of segment three

THIS PART ENDED UP GETTING SO LONG I'LL HAVE TO MAKE A SEGMENT FOUR BUT IT'S ALL TYPED UP SO NO WAITING TIME ❤️

juza hyodo - empty pudding cup

izumi finds her pudding cup empty and in the trash.

there could only be one culprit, and she's gonna make him pay (with more sweets!)

when juza came home from school, izumi was leaning on the counter with an empty pudding cup in the centre of the island, expression solemn as she stared down at the container that used to hold her most delectable sweet. she was so excited to eat it when she got back from work, but she ended up with an empty cup in the recycling bin.

the high school student tried to keep his presence hidden as he went up the last few steps of the stairs, hunching his body and hanging his head down as he shuffled towards the hallway that led to his room, his backpack swaying lazily over his shoulder.

to no avail. izumi had already spotted him.

"juza. come here." she called out, sickeningly sweet.

juza froze in his steps.

izumi sighed quietly, dropping her head in amusement before lifting her gaze back up to make sure juza had turned around to look at her.

"you're not in trouble. i just want to talk." she tried to reassure him, nudging the empty pudding cup to the side while motioning with her other hand for him to come over to where she was standing. expression pained, the young student slung his bag onto the couch and trudged towards the island where izumi stood, looking kind of like a sad puppy.

"i know you ate my pudding," she started, grabbing hold of the young man's wrist to make sure he wouldn't run away while she confronted him. "and that's okay. i just wish you would've told me."

juza hung his head slightly, disappointed in himself for betraying the director like this. he was hoping she wouldn't notice, but she did anyways. he should have been honest with her.

"i know. i'm sorry." he apologised, voice gruff due to misuse, and squared his shoulders with pursed lips, staring down at izumi was looking right back at him with kind eyes, the ends of her mouth curving up into a warm smile. her thumb lightly brushed over the inside of his wrist to soothe his pulse, patting his hand.

"it's okay, i already told you." she laughed softly and continued to hold onto his arm as she walked to the dinner table to grab her bag from one of the chairs there, slinging it over her shoulder as she lead juza towards the stairs with a hum, only letting go of him so that he could follow her down comfortably.

juza didn't know why she was trailing after her, but it seemed like she wanted to show him something, and proceeded to put his shoes back on as she opened the front door to the dorm.

"in order to repay me, you're going to have to keep me company at the new cake shop in town." she declared.

surprised, juza scratched the back of his head as he followed after izumi who was already out on the sidewalk. he locked the door before he went after her, his eyes curious as she looked down at her as she let him catch up, her arm coming up to loop with his so that she wouldn't lose him in the crowd at veludo station.

"i'll be paying for the cakes, right?" he asked, just to make sure that he was definitely repaying her and that she wasn't going to use an excuse to feed him more sweets.

"how about i pay for yours, you pay for mine?" she offered, eyes glinting with mirth when juza responded with an immediate shake of his head.

"i don't think that's how it works."

"what? it cancels out." she shrugged her shoulders and held onto his arm tighter, grinning as she chose to ignore the protest that left his mouth. with a few more blocks to go and a quick turn to the left, they had arrived at the new cake shop.

everything else was a blur to juza, and by the time he realised, he was already sitting down at a table with izumi, his choice of cake being presented to him by her as she pulled her plate on her own side with her fork.

"hey, you didn't let me pay." he protested again, the complaint falling on deaf ears as izumi was already digging in, her face lighting up with excitement as the piece of cake practically melted in her mouth along with the sweet cream. she gestured with her hand for juza to start eating, and sulking, he did.

as the cake entered his mouth, he nearly collapsed into his chair.

the cake was moist, the cream was delectably sweet – and the small pieces of fruit on top just gave the right amount of acidity and balanced out the cream. juza couldn't help but let out an amazed gasp.

"wow." he muttered happily, the tips of his ears burning with joy. it had been a while since he came to a sweets shop, hence the reason why he had stolen the pudding cup, so he was silently burning with enthusiasm when the director suggested he come along with her.

the reaction he had towards the cake had izumi smiling, and so she held out her spoon that had a piece of her own cake on it, hand cupped under just in case it fell from its place.

"i got the plain new york cheesecake." she beamed. "try some."

quietly, juza decided to look around the cake shop to make sure no one was watching them to save himself the embarrassment and opened his mouth with a small ah as izumi carefully brought the sweet to his lips.

the silence between them only made the director even more excited for juza's reaction, and the young man did not disappoint.

flustered with how good the cake was, juza's skin was tinged a sweet pink as he covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide with surprise.

"that is delicious." he whispered through the cracks of his fingers, much to izumi's amusement.

the woman laughed softly and nodded in agreement, scooping herself another spoonful of cake to push into her mouth, not noticing the way juza stared at her, innocently scandalized. the way she casually used the same spoon that he put his mouth on flustered him once again, and quietly, juza was trying to get a piece of his own cake on his fork to feed her.

he was wondering if she was going to eat from his fork too.

glittering eyes flitted over towards the cake that was bashfully being held by juza, and his pout showed her that he was embarrassed.

"you can have some of mine." he mumbled, gaze briefly going over her face before he looked back down at his plate, lips pressed in a thin line to keep himself from combusting when the woman across from him immediately took the offer, happily stealing the cake on the fork with her teeth lightly clacking against the metal.

she let out a wow and covered her mouth with her hand, the exact same reaction juza had a few minutes ago.

"that's awesome." she whispered to him, as if she was sharing a secret, grinning when juza could only nod silently. she offered him a second bite of her own cake, to which juza couldn't refuse, and with blushing cheeks accepted the cake. in return, he offered her another piece of his own cake, and the two went back and forth with sharing their sweets until they had nothing left on their plates.

with their cutlery quietly clattering against the porcelain plates that once held their cakes, both juza and izumi relaxed into their seats with elated sighs, their eyes smiling at each other.

"so? how was it?" izumi probed with a tilted head, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at juza who was wringing a small napkin in his hands.

"good."

she pursed her lips at the short answer, eyes squinted as she scrutinized the man in front of her.

"wanna try some more cakes?"

awkwardly, juza turned his head again, ears burning with the desire to say yes but not wanting to force the director to feel obliged into actually getting more.

he picked at his napkin.

"okay, just sit right there! i'll get us a new set." she stood up from her seat with a warm smile and wiggled her fingers at juza who slumped in his chair with a sulking frown, too shy to stop her from getting further away.

juza held his head in his hands as his ears began to burn up.

"..i like her."

Chapter One: "The Storm"

White Fang's POV:

I ran through the abandoned town, my eyes dart at the ladder that leads through the roof. I climbed up, when I'm already at the top, I start to observe the area and feel the cold wind to my skin. I knew a storm was coming, mainly because I've been Listening to Citizen Z (the only human I spoke since this apocalypse start) and from my instinct.

He's always talk about these "Delta X-Ray Delta" in short "DXD" group and Operation Bite Mark. I honestly think it's just a bunch of clowns, but who really knows. I sighed and sat at the roof to meditate focusing my hearing to the area.

"2,089!" I heard someone shout in the distance. I immediately rushed and ducked behind the little wall that was on the roof. I pulled my bow off my back and nocked a arrow on before peeking over the edge.

There was a boy around my age, walking down the street, a Accuracy International Arctic Warfare gripping tight in hand. He put his rifle on his back then pulled out a sling shot putting a gear in the sling. He aimed then shot, "2090" He said, his voice echoing because of the brick walls. It affect my hearing a little bit because of my kitsune hearing are more sensitive than a normal human being.

I looked in curiosity not even noticing the Z behind me until I heard it's growled. I turned around grabbing one of my daggers off my lower back striking through the Z's skull. The Crimson-red substance flew everywhere, across my mask, on my thighs, even in my black hair. I was used to it though...everyone was.

I turned back to the boy regaining my crouched position again. He wasn't paying ANY attention to his surroundings. He pulled back his slingshot and aimed for a nearby Z. The bad news is, he didn't notice the six Z's behind him. 'does he have a death wish or something?' I thought while aiming my bow to the Z.

The Z stumbled up right behind him as he let go of the sling for the slingshot, "2091" His voice echoed again, but that might be the last. The Z behind him tackled him to the ground. "that's it!" I said but not that loud, as it was about to bite down on his flesh... I shot, releasing the arrow from my tight grip, hitting it's skull, "thank god I didn't miss" I sighed in relief.

I turned around as fast as I could I put my bow back. I jumped to the next building which roof was lower than the other one, and I land to the ground.

I approach the dead Z to get my arrow, I looked at the boy and reach my hand out for him, without a sec, he accepted it and I pulled him to my side, I quickly take my bow from my back and nocked three arrows. I aim my bow and shot the three Z through it's head then I take out two throwing knives from my right boot and throw it to the skulls of the last two Z.

I approach the corpses and pulled out my arrows and throwing knives out on their skulls. I turned back and saw a pair of hazel eyes staring back at me. I observe his features. His raven hair, his white pearl teeth, those beautiful hazel eyes, a toned body, and lean as a fine wolf. He was attractive I admit. 'what is this...feeling?'

I turned around and walked away. 'Fang what's happening to you'  I thought to myself until...

"Hey!" He called. I tried to ignore him but I couldn't. I looked back at him, "I just wanted to say thank you" I nodded my head, luckily my mask didn't move an inch so he couldn't recognize me if we ever met again.

"What's your name?" He asked, I ignore it until I hear something. I looked up to the sky, Citizen Z was right, there was a storm coming.

Castle Point is a small town so this tornado Citizen Z speaks of, would destroy it easily. The boy looked at the sky too. "We need to go" He said. I started to run so fast and he runs as well. 'I'm glad to have these power'.

-

He pointed to a car, signaling me to get in. I climbed into the driver's seat and the boy went into the passenger. "10,000" He said. I looked up at him. "My name is 10,000." He said. I nodded. I start to feel something...

He put his hand on the roof. The car started to flip over. My hands cling to the seat, digging my nails on it as a support. The car kept spinning and spinning and I was getting dizzy

'c'mon Fang don't don't you dare to passed out'. Finally after an hour of bouncing around in that car the tornado stopped. My mask move, revealing my mouth, I quickly adjust it before 10k noticed as he regained his consciousness. "W-What happened? Where am I?" He questioned but soon got serious. I sighed. "Oh wait..." He trailed off.

I pulled myself out of the car and saw 10k behind me, 'gladly this human is fine' I shook my head to shrug that thought 'you can't fall for him Fang...you can't' . 10K smiled at me and he started walking, "Follow me" he said. 'should I follow him?', without a sec I just did what he said, we walked through some woods, running into a Z here and there but we got it.

When we came out of the woods 10k began to ran to the destroyed house. I ran as well. We came upon to the destroyed house with five other people. "Where's Warren?" 10K asked. "Over here" A weak female voice replied. A old man rushed over to the chair and started lifting it up. From there came a African American Women, who I assumed it was Warren, and she walked over to 10k and gave him a hug, "Glad to see you alive kid" She ruffled his hair and walked to me and observe, "And who might this be?" "he saved me" 10k responded. 'He?!' I was about to response, "How does someone save the Invincible 10k?" The old man asked.

A bald man walked over to me rubbing his pointer finger and thumb across his chin, "Well he seems looks like the type of-", 'okay that's It' , "She" I interrupted. Everyone looked at me and I sighed. Removing my cloak revealing my FEMININE body. They all stare at me, "10k did you know she was a GIRL?" Warren asked. "N-no coz I only see her wearing a cloak covering her body and mask covering her face" He said scratching the back of his head.

"So let me get this straight, SHE saved you, and you brought her to us and you haven't seen her face?" Warren asked. "W-Well yeah" 10k stuttered out. "You could get Murphy killed! What if she's one of those filthy bastards that kills everyone?!" Warren started shouting. They weren't paying much attention. I sighed and bow my head at them as a respect, earning back their attention to me then said, "I'm sorry If you all think that I'm one of those people you said Bastards but believe me or not, since this Apocalypse starts, I survive...alone..." regaining my stance, I stare at them behind my mask.

"Besides, I've only killed five people with a reason." I said. They all looked at me curiously. "Can we at least know your age and name?" I sighed. "name's White Fang, age eighteen" I said. "Well what about your face?" A brunette guy asked. "I-I'm sorry I cannot show my face, I only can show it to the people I...trust..." I said. "Well I'm Lieutenant Warren, this is Murphy, Doc, Cassandra, Addy, Mack, Charles and you've already met 10k. I'm guessing...White Fang hmm? isn't your real name isn't it?" Warren said.

"good guess" I said back calmly. As soon I remembered all of Citizen Z's broadcast and get the strength to ask, "Are you...Delta X-Ray Delta?" They all looked at me. "How do you know?" Addy asked. "An announcer named Citizen Z, told me every time he broadcasts from time to time. That's also how I heard about the storm." I said.

Warren sighed then said, "We'll tell you ALL about the Operation Bite Mark IF and only IF you show us YOUR. FACE." I froze, 'should...I have to?', they stare at me. I sighed 'I don't have a choice' and grabbed my mask, taking it off slowly. I opened my silver eyes and looked at everyone and they looked at me, wide eyes and mouths almost open, shocked hint to their faces "Hmm... I expected her to be ugly" Murphy said, I looked at him, "I'm sorry Mr. Murphy if I can't surpass your expectation to me" I said sarcastically. He stared at me. I smiled at him earning some gasp from the group. "Damn Murphy, first time to been shut?" Warren replied. "By the way he's the vaccine" She said.

"Oh! No wonder why he's moody, I understand" I said. "Woah" 10k muttered. "Can we trash this Huntress? She's getting to my nerves" Murphy said. "If it would happen make sure put me to the recycle bin, where the place of useful trash at least I don't bark like you do...I bite" I smiled. Warren laughed while Addy came up next to me and said, "Nah. It'll be awesome to have another badass in the group, besides, girl looks like the Apocalypse didn't even affect you!" She said while looking at my body and my face. Everyone chuckled.

"Well White Fang, nice to meeting you" Warren said. "me as well, Lieutenant" I said while smiling.

I put my cloak back and I looked at 10k, "How did you get your name?" I asked "I told you it was a lucky number" "Oh" "Let's make a deal, If I tell you the reason behind my name you tell me yours." He said raising an eyebrow.

"Sounds Fair to me" I said and soon I start to feel the weird feeling earlier.

To Be Continued.....

Survey #318

“what can you do, where can ya go, when your mama is a burnout, and your daddy is a pyro?”

Do you have your ears pierced more than once? Yeah. Do you use an electric toothbrush? Yes. When was the last time you changed in front of someone? Oh, I have no idea. That's something I avoid like the plague because I loathe my body. When was the last time you got high? Never. Do you get along with your parents? Yeah. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? None. Have you ever used a Ouija board? No, I don't fuck with that stuff. Have you ever met anyone who claimed to be a witch? Yes. Do you go along with prank-callers, or just hang up? I don't answer numbers I don't recognize to begin with. Would you ever tattoo a lover’s name onto your body? Nooooo. Do you own any version of Guitar Hero? I have a lot of 'em. Do you use mouthwash every single day? No. Do you know anyone with asthma? Yeah, my mom. Have you ever walked through a forest at night on your own? Uh, no sir. When was the last time you were in a graveyard? It's been many, many years. Do you know what an ‘AMV’ is? Yep, used to make 'em. How many items are in your recycle bin? (On your computer!) Oh yikes, probably loads. I haven't emptied it in... I don't know how long. Would you rather be a bird or a fish? A bird. What’s one award show you have to watch every year? None. Who do you like more: the Batman or the Joker? Joker. Heath Ledger's is my favorite. Have you ever had a pet rock? No. How much do you weigh? Yeah, no. If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Taking nature photographs. Have you ever lost your luggage at an airport? No. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster that actually scared you? I don’t do roller coasters to begin with. Have you ever gone in a sauna? Ugh, hell no. Has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? No. Have you ever had an eating disorder? No. Are you attracted to people outside of your race? Yes. Are you in love with anyone at the moment? No. Have you ever dated someone more than once? No. Best cough drop? Those creamy strawberry ones. If you have a pet, does it make a lot of noise? One's a snake, so she's silent as could be. My cat is generally quiet, but he has his times where he just walks around meowing, normally for attention. Are you a fan of eyeshadow? If I actually wear makeup, yeah, I like black eyeshadow. Can you tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi? Absolutely. I don't like Pepsi. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? Done it before, didn't feel weird. Besides furniture, what’s the biggest thing in your bedroom? A Silent Hill poster. Which of your friends makes you laugh the hardest? Girt. Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? Yeah, as a kid. What color was the hair of the last person you kissed? Brown. What was the title of the last song you listened to? So today I've really been digging dark synthwave/cyberpunk-ish music, and right now I have a playlist on that's currently playing "DNA War" by Absolute Valentine and Billy Mays. How far away is the closest Walmart? Not even five minutes. Can you do a backflip? No. Who is the lead singer of your favorite band? Well, Ozzy is the lead singer of Ozzy Osbourne, haha. When was the last time you went fishing? Not since Sara visited and we went catfishing with my dad one night. What brand of deodorant do you use? Secret. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Yes. Do you regret it? Nah. Who was the last person to buy you a drink? My mom, lmaoooo. Who was the last person to buy you dinner? Also my mom, haha. How old is the oldest person you’ve dated? Juan's maybe like... 28 or something by now, idk. Have you ever run a stoplight? No. Have you ever dated someone & then dated their sibling? YIKES, no. That sounds miles beyond awkward. Are both your parents still living? Yeah, thankfully. What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Music, for sure. Do you collect Mason jars to use for crafts? No, but I do find those super cute. What gives you a quality of life? Not much nowadays, idk. What would give you a high quality of life? A sense of purpose, direction, and worth. Do you have any rugs on top of carpet in your home? We have a big one in our living room, yes. I don't get it. Do you have a mattress cover on your bed? Yeah. Do you hate taking naps during the day? No; naps are normal for me. Who has the best personality on YouTube? Maybe I'm biased, but I genuinely do think Mark for a multitude of reasons. He's just extremely likable imo and sincerely a fucking spectacular human being. Do you have any vinyl records? No, but I would love to collect classic rock and metal ones. Which serial killer(s) do you find most fascinating? I'm quite honestly not well-informed in serial killer stories. I think they're interesting, but not enough for me to learn about them. Have you ever visited any celebrity gravesites? No. How do you feel about archaeology? It's fuckin dope. Any animals whose behaviors you find particularly interesting? ALL OF THEM AHHHH!!!!! But I particularly love learning about social animals, like meerkats (mongoose in general, really), African wild dogs, wolves, etc. What are your thoughts on gun control? I don't support the idea of banning firearms altogether, but I am very much in favor of some reform. There needs to be a much, much more strict and complex system in order for you to legally own a gun, and I also support periodic "check ups" to ensure you still fit whatever criteria is laid out. "Bad people will still find guns;" yes, some most certaintly will, but you can't convince me that the numbers wouldn't decrease. It would take a serious villain to put so much effort into pursuing obtaining a firearm. Do you like animals better than most humans? Sure do. Have you ever had to block people online for harassing you? I've blocked people to prevent that. If you collect anything, what is your favorite piece of that collection? I cherish the plush meerkat Jason gave me most, probably; out of my Silent Hill stuff, the limited edition Revelation flyer I have in Japanese. Are you friends with anybody you didn’t like at first? Hi, meet my best friend lmao. Are there any musicians you didn’t like at first, but grew on you? Probably. Do you have any favorite books you’d like to have signed by the author? Not really. Well wait, Ozzy signing my copy of his autobiography would be pretty damn cool. Do you like any board games or card games? I'm not really a board game fan, but Magic: The Gathering is fun as far as card games go. What historical figure(s) are you most interested in? I'm not incredibly interested in any, but I do think Pharaoh Hatshepsut was a bad bitch. She was one of the extremely few female pharaohs, and if my memory serves me right, one of the most successful. Do you like Breaking Benjamin? I sure do. How many people of the opposite sex have you told you loved them? One. Have you ever had to change your phone number? Yes, because I was getting strange texts from numbers I didn't know. Have you ever played bingo at an actual bingo hall? No. What’s your favourite comic book/graphic novel? I don’t read any. What is something you take pride in? How far I've come as far as my mental illnesses go, particularly depression and PTSD. What’s the biggest magnet on your fridge? I'm not getting up to go look. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No; I hate lettuce on burgers, so. What brand is your vaccuum cleaner? Dunno. Do you believe in sex before marriage? Sure, but I don't believe it's a must for everyone. Plenty of people don't even want to get married. Be intimate once you're comfortable with the person, and be safe and smart about it. Are you for or against abortion? I'm pro-choice. Do you feel like you need to lose weight? It's fact that I need to. My body just doesn't want to, afuckingpparently. All I seem to be capable of is either maintain or gain nowadays. Is summer your favorite season? It's my least favorite, actually. Do you wear glasses? I'm basically blind without 'em. Can you say the alphabet in more than one language? Yeah, in German. What do you want out of life? To feel like I made a difference, even if it's a small one. Do you ever get carsick? No. Do you groom your eyebrows? Not really anymore, no. Have you ever liked someone who treated you badly? No. When was the last time you went in the car past midnight? Oh boy, probably not since I had my cyst in I think '16. I was in so much agony and we had no painkillers, so I had to wake up Mom to go to Walmart to grab some. They barely even helped at all. God, I couldn't imagine dealing with that again. Were your last two kisses with the same person? Yes. Do you have alcohol in your house? I don't think we do right now, no. Do you have any personal fashion rules that revolve around your own preferences/body type (e.g., you never/always wear a certain color, sleeve type, or length of dress)? Yeah; I don't wear anything that shows my legs unless I shaved, but I will never wear a dress that isn't at least past my knees. Do you remember any celebrity whose style you admired when you were a teen? What do you think of that style now? Avril Lavigne was/is an ICON. I still think she looks badass. So, is it gif with a hard G or soft G? I used to say the opposite, but I say "gif" now. Apparently that's how the creator of the term says it anyway. When you are invited to things like wedding showers or baby showers do you tend to go or skip? What about graduation parties? If Mom is able to take me, I'll try to go to the first two if they're my closer friends. Do you like spicy chips? Oh FUCK yes. What’s the last movie you watched at a friend’s house? Elf with Sara's fam. Can you remember your parents’ birthdays? Mom's, yes. Dad's, only the month. Do you read your friends' surveys? Yep, I love learning about them. Do you know anyone with a glass eye? Not to my knowledge, no. Do you ever use the n-word? Absolutely not. What piercing do you like most on the opposite sex? I tend to like lip piercings. Do you prefer beef, chicken or steak? Chicken. Ever spent the night in a tent? Yeah, multiple times as a kid, "camping" in the yard with Dad, haha. What do you call your grandparents? I called both sets just "Grammy" and "Grampa." Have you ever cried while reading a book? Oh, certainly. How many college degrees do you want? I got none, and I'm not going back to college. Do you know how to play pool? What about foosball? Yes. Have you ever attended a professional sporting event? Yeah, hockey with my dad a few times. Do you own any jerseys? No. Were you born with naturally straight teeth? No; that's why I had braces. If you were the opposite gender, what name would you like to be called? Maybe like... Victor. Idk. Do you prefer original or sour Skittles? I love both, but sour. Do you like bacon bits on your salad? Yeah. What is your favorite kind of soup? I'm not a soup person. Did you learn to type through a computer program for kids? Yeah. What do you take for pain? Advil/Ibuprofen. What is your favorite place that you’ve lived? My pre-teen and teenage years house: in the woods on a dead-end road and down a gravel path that everyone always missed when learning where our house was. The actual road itself had very, very little traffic, and there was a large expanse of cotton fields. I loved it and miss the house itself, but it's got a lot of bad memories rotting in it. Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? My niece and nephew. <3 Who is your favorite cousin? I don't have a favorite. We barely interact at all. Does one side of your family live in another state? Literally none of my extended family (or half-siblings) live in NC. What states did your parents grow up in? New York and Ohio. Have you ever had an allergic reaction to an insect? No. Is there a good hospital where you live? God no. It is notoriously awful. When was the last time you were asked out? Did you accept or decline? Mid-2017. I aceepted. Does your job allow piercings or tattoos? N/A Do you want to get married? If so, what color will your dress be? Yeah. Probably white/ivory or black. Ever had a caricature done of yourself? How much was it, and were you satisfied with it? No. Do you like peanut butter and fluff sandwiches? No, I don't like the texture. If you got married and then got divorced, would you want to re-marry? Probably not. What’s your favorite amusement park? I haven't been to nearly enough to know. Do you play video games? If so, what kind? Yeah. My favorite are horror games, but I also love me some story-driven survival games like The Last of Us, and then there's "kids" games like Spyro, etc. I like a looot of different kinds. Would you buy used clothes? I don't think so. I know it's easy to wash clothes and stuff, I'd just still feel kinda... grossed out by it.

Cross Cut

A/N: Another in the Play the Hand You’re Dealt event, this takes a look at the day Logan met his buzzkill from his point of view, and what you did that made him sure that you were the right person for this job. 

Warning: language. and William’s face, gross. 

Word Count: 3,432

Requested by:  @something-tofightfor See You in New York Logan, General, Secrets & Lies, Logan’s POV

Logan tugged at his left shirtsleeve, fixing the toggle of the silver rimmed onyx cufflink. He twisted it with his long fingers, pushing it back through the buttonhole to tighten the fit around his wrist. That’s better. His eyes flicked up to the numbers above the elevator door, lighting up as the vessel carried him swiftly to the 38th floor. Leaning back against the shiny railing,  he slid his hands into the pockets of his pants and crossed his ankles. Wonder how this is gonna go. He took a breath before letting it slowly out through his nose. Could go a few different ways, depending on… He uncrossed his feet and shifted his weight away from the railing, removing his left hand from his pocket to check the time. This could be good. Or it could be a disaster.  

He’d been preoccupied with the defamation case for the last few weeks, working long hours  with the legal team to prove his innocence, and between that and trying to get caught up on the work that he’d missed while dealing with that, he’d given little to no thought about what today’s introduction would be like or how it might change things. It would be the first time that he would be working with someone so closely that he hadn’t personally chosen or worked with previously, and while he knew the date Cynthia had mentioned as her associate’s start date, Logan hadn’t had time to consider anything else regarding the situation. He trusted Cynthia’s judgement and wanted to believe that the woman wouldn’t send him someone that wouldn’t be a good fit- that she wouldn’t send a goldfish into the shark tank. Annoyed enough already that his father and the rest of the Delos board were insistent upon this being a necessary step, he didn’t want to be locked into 6 months of interaction with someone that he himself would fire in 6 minutes if given the choice. Guess we’ll see. 

The bright white bulb behind the stencil cut 38 lit up and the elevator car came to a smooth stop as the doors opened silently. Logan tilted his head to the right and rolled that shoulder, a small pop coming from somewhere in his neck. He could see Charlie standing a few feet away, an espresso in one hand, his touchpad and a few files stacked and tucked into the crook of his bent elbow, ready to prep Logan for the day’s meetings and deadlines. New to the company, Charlie had just graduated the intern program and Logan had made sure to snatch him up, the young man showing more promise and attention to detail than any other prospective assistant Logan had considered. He was sharp, capable and dedicated without being cocky, pretentious or a kiss-ass. But why does he look like he’s ready to shit a brick? Logan watched the man’s throat undulate as he swallowed, his eyes blinking rapidly as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Mildly concerned, Logan strode from the elevator. Only one way to find out. 

“Mornin’, Charlie,” Logan greeted him with the same relaxed demeanor that he did every morning no matter how stressed, frustrated, exhausted or busy he was. He smiled, taking the coffee that was offered to him in his left hand, right digging his phone from his pocket. “What does today look like?” Aside from meeting my new ball and chain. Quickly entering his passcode to unlock his phone, Logan took a sip of the bitter espresso and opened his calendar. 

Charlie switched the items in his arm as they started walking towards Logan’s office, tucking whatever files he carried under the touch screen tablet. With a few deft swipes that he could have done blindfolded, he opened the same calendar portal so that he could go over Logan’s schedule. “Good morning, Mr. Delos.” He cleared his throat, covering his mouth by making a fist with his free hand before bringing it up to press his pointer finger to his eyebrow, dragging it towards his temple. It was his tell, the dead giveaway that his nerves were bordering on nausea. Terrible poker face, Charlie. “There’s an R & D budgetary meeting at 11. They want to propose some new synthetic materials and software upgrades they’ve been working on.” 

Logan took another sip of espresso, nodding. He approved that meeting on his agenda by highlighting it with one finger, the entry vanishing from Charlie’s screen and showing up in bold font on his own. That could be interesting. Having a hand in the research and development of new technologies for the parks and for other branches of Delos Inc. was one of Logan’s favorite things about his position. Though he didn’t have a degree in engineering, he often contributed to brainstorming sessions combining his experience in the parks with his creative ingenuity to help spark new ideas or solve existing glitches or issues. “Should run about an hour, yeah?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly as he turned to Charlie,  just in time to catch another press and drag of his finger over his forehead. What the fuck is he freaking out about? 

Charlie nodded. “Yup, it should, usually does.” He dropped his hand back to his tablet to swipe at the next item on the list- a conference call with an investor in Paris at noon. Logan groaned internally at that one, but approved it anyway. Turning the corner, they passed Juliet’s office. Her door was closed, but Logan waved to her through the glass wall, raising two fingers on the hand he held his beverage in. Hey, Jul. She was on the phone, a frown creasing her face that only deepened as she pressed her lips together and half-heartedly waved back. Okay, who the fuck died around here? He used the same fingers that he used to wave to his sister to unlock the keypad on his office door, then pushed it open for Charlie to follow him inside. 

“After that you’ve got-” 

Logan closed the door with his elbow, the lock engaging automatically as soon as it clicked shut. Even though two of the four walls that made up the executive offices were glass, the soundproofing made them as private as they needed to be. “Cut the shit, Charlie.” He drained the rest of his espresso and crossed to his desk to toss the empty white cardboard cup into the recycling bin. I know something’s up, so tell me what it is. 

‘Um, well,” Charlie stammered. Logan watched him clench his hand in a fist in an effort not to bring it up to his brow. He shuffled the file he’d been holding beneath the tablet, opening it and pulling out two magazines with obnoxiously bright yellow lettering emblazoned across the top, and photos and headlines collaged all over their covers. “The legal team got them to pull it from their website but…” With a shaky hand, Charlie held out the glossy prints. “I figured you would have seen them already but…” He sighed. 

Is that? Logan’s eyes widened as he reached out and took what Charlie was handing him. But before he’d even turned it around, he knew exactly who he was looking at. That fucking piece of shit. The shiny, waxy paper crumpled beneath his fingers as he flexed them, a hot rush of anger flushing through him. That’s why Jules looked at me like that, he glanced up at his assistant, why he looks like he’s gonna blow. He looked back down at the photo staring up at him, his top lip curling in thick, vicious hatred.  

Ousted Delos Exec Breaks Silence on Sex Scandal Rumors: It Wouldn’t Surprise Me- drugs, debauchery, and other things you didn’t know about Logan Delos as told by his former brother-in-law. 

Fucking William. He flipped to the second cover, scanning a similarly damning headline featuring an equally pathetic looking photo of Juliet’s ex-husband, the man’s complexion looking off, his blond hair long and lanky in appearance. This is low, even for you, you fucking- Logan’s eyes slipped closed and he clenched his jaw. No. Not gonna let this asshole… Exhaling slowly, he dropped the tabloids to his desk and blinked his eyes open. Pulling out his chair, he sat down and set his phone on top of the prints, blocking William’s face. Following the suggestion of his addiction counselor, he’d taken all name notifications down from any publication that didn’t relate strictly to business so he wouldn’t be inundated with opinions on how long his sobriety would last and pictures of him at his worst. So when William’s “tell-all” went to print, Logan knew nothing about it. But I’m not gonna let him get under my skin and fuck around. He’d done enough damage, and now that he’d finally been dealt with, Logan wouldn’t let him gain an inch of real estate in his mind. Not again.  

“Well,” he looked up at the other man and cleared his throat. “Never a dull moment, is there?” Charlie’s mouth opened and closed, his shoulders rising with a breath as though he were going to say something, then deflating as nothing came out. It’s fine, not your fault. Movement behind Charlie caught Logan’s eye as he saw Juliet leaving her office and taking long steps towards his. Here we go. “Listen, Charlie, do me a favor and just accept all my meetings for the day. If anything changes and I need to reschedule anything, I’ll let you know.” Juliet raised her fist to rap her knuckles on his office door, three assertive knocks followed by the muffled call of his name. Charlie raised his eyebrows and gestured towards the door. “Yeah,” Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let her in. Wait!” Charlie froze with his hand on the door knob. “You’ll let me know when the rep from the New York firm gets here, right?” 

“Of course. She’s scheduled to be here within the hour.” Great. “Mr. Delos?” Logan tilted his head indicating that Charlie should go on. “I’m sorry about this bullshit. I hope this is the last of it.” 

Logan saw in the man’s eyes that he was being genuine, another trait he valued in his personal assistant. He nodded, the slightest smile of appreciation curving his lips to the side. “Thanks, Charlie.” He stuck his chin out at the door as Juliet knocked again, harder this time. “You better let her in before she breaks it down.” 

Charlie’s hand resumed motion, turning the knob to open the door. He barely sidestepped out of the way as Juliet spilled through, the young assistant skirting around the woman and scurrying out the door and out of the way. “Logan, I’m fucking livid. I’m...this is… how can he still be…” His sister paced around in front of his desk, arms and hands punctuating every words she was saying with their rigid movements. Good morning to you too, sunshine. She turned to him, finally seeing him through the haze of red. “I’m fucking pissed, I’m…” She swallowed then, tears springing to her eyes that Logan knew were caused equally by anger as they were by anything else. He got up and stepped around his desk as she wiped at her eyes. “I’m so sorry he’s still trying to hurt you, Logan, I’m...this is my-” 

That initial swell of hatred built up again as Juliet tried to take the blame for William’s latest stunt. “Hey. Don’t, Jules.” He warned. She sniffed, nodding as a tendril of soft brown hair fell over her eyes. Her slender fingers came up to tuck it back into place as tears still rolled slowly down her cheeks, leaking from dark eyes brimming with frustration and contempt for her ex-husband, sympathy and love for her brother.  “I mean it, don’t. This is not your fault, okay? There’s nothin’ you could have done or not done to stop him from being what he is.” Not after you married him, anyway.

He chased that thought away, wrapping her in a one-armed hug that she returned eagerly. Since Juliet and William’s divorce had gone through roughly one month ago, Logan had been working on repairing his relationship with Juliet, and was just starting to build one with his niece. He looked down at his desk, at a photo taken just a few weeks back of him and Juliet with Emily at the aquarium. Both siblings were pointing to the brightly colored fish and gently swaying coral that filled the enormous tank that they stood in front of, but the one and half year old’s wide tawny eyes were stuck on her uncle. He brought his second arm around his sister and squeezed quickly before letting go. Of course he would have preferred that she listened to him about William in the first place, not just because her disbelief had cut him deeply, but because she could have saved herself from having to have married him. But he’s out now, and I’m not letting him hurt you- either of you- anymore. 

Juliet took a steadying breath and stepped back with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” she scoffed. “I can’t believe he is Emily’s…” she couldn’t even say the last word. Yeah, me either. “Anyway,” she resumed her pacing, but much more slowly and far less aggressively and Logan returned to his desk chair. “I was on the phone with legal when you got in before. I’m sure Charlie told you that we got the...articles…” she was careful not to use the word story when they both knew that there was no truth to the facts that William claimed to know. “Those were taken down from these two websites.” Logan nodded, leaning against the backrest as he tapped his thumb against the edge of his desk. “Well, we’re slamming them for running it at all after the trial, after you,” she rolled her wrist, looking for the right wording. “Running it after you proved she was lying, well… they’re in deep shit.” As they should be. 

“Good.” Logan sat forward, wetting his lips as he dragged one hand through his hair. It’s been a long day and it’s not even 10 am. He sighed, pushing the tabloids even further to the side of his desk so that he couldn’t see William’s face. 

“Logan?” Juliet looked down at the floor before bringing her eyes level with his. He tilted his head in response. “How are you...are you doing okay? I mean with all of this?” She chewed her bottom lip. It occurred to him that she wasn’t only asking how he was handling the accusation, but also if he showed any signs of falling back down the stairway to hell. 

Surprisingly, even the shock of being dragged through the mud for things he’d never even think of doing hadn’t been enough to push him back over that edge he’d fought three times to climb, this last bout with recovery feeling like it would be his last. I got my sister back, got my family and my company back and… He thought of Emily and how she was the only child in the world he gave two shits about.  He smiled, and though it wasn’t one of unbridled joy and happiness, it didn’t feel forced and that was something. “I’ll be okay, Jules, don’t worry. Besides,” in a display of timing so perfect that he couldn’t have choreographed it better, his phone screen lit up and he pointed at it. “My fairy godmother is here to fix all my bullshit.” He picked up the phone as Juliet actually let out a small laugh. “I’ll fill you in later, yeah?” She nodded and wished him luck before leaving to head back to her own spacious office. The phone in his hand lit up and buzzed again, and he swiped Cynthia’s name to answer. 

“Good Morning,” he answered the call, skipping the formal greeting.

“I’m assuming you saw the trash rags?” She, too, forwent any sort of official bullshit, which was one of the things Logan admired most about her. 

“Sure did. Guess you saw it before it was pulled from the internet?” I wonder what it says… He glanced sidelong at the magazines on his desk and tapped his pointer finger against his phone. 

“Who do you think called your legal team?” Of course you did. “That ex brother-in-law of yours looks like shit in those pictures.” Logan had to laugh at that. He heard the clacking of a keyboard as Cynthia fired off an email while she had him on the line. He does.  

“Thanks, Cyn, I owe you one.” He was vaguely aware of movement outside of his office, the elevator door opening and closing as Charlie escorted a woman- you- out of it. “Speaking of which, I think your rep just got here.” 

“She did. She texted me from your elevator.” Oh. So she’s just like you then. “I wanted to touch base with you one last time before you were introduced.” Interesting. 

Logan watched Charlie guide you towards his office, noting your confident posture, the practiced way that you made the elevator-to-office walk look as though you had done it countless times instead of this being your first time setting foot in the building. Your eyes stayed on Charlie even as she took a sip of the coffee in your hand, sharp and focused. “I’m listening.” 

“She’s the best I’ve got, so you have to trust her. She can be stubborn, like you.” Fantastic. “And in this case you’re going to have to be the one to concede, understand?” Yeah, Cyn, I get it.  “I’m telling you, she’s going to tie this off in such a nice little bow that no one will be able to say a word. And this new layer of garbage with your sister’s ex? Consider it gone, she’ll have a statement prepared by lunch.”

“Sounds great, Cynthia.” I hope you’re right. After three years of dealing with the aftermath of his trip to Westworld with William, depression, addiction, and all the havoc those things wreaked on his personal life and career, Logan was in dire need of a break. Cynthia assured him that she was in fact right, and ended the phone call the exact second that Charlie’s knock came on the door to introduce you to him. Damn. He had to admire Cynthia’s ability to run a well-oiled machine in her firm. And if she stands by this rep then I should, too. 

You’d given him your name, extending your hand to shake in a show of trust, briefly discussed your background and what you already knew about the case. She’s intense. He licked his lips as you rifled through the file that you carried, the deep burgundy polish on your nails standing in stark contrast to the manila folder as you pulled out page after page of preliminary drafting that you’d done for a blueprint back into the good graces of the dear old public. This is gonna work, she’s gonna- 

“Is that?” You pointed to the two tabloids still sitting on his desk, not waiting for his answer, simply striding over to pick them up. Oh, alright. “These are ridiculous, and the fact that he went to this level speaks volumes about the type of person he is.” You’re right. You shook your head muttering. “Garbage people in these damn garbage… does this thing do cross cut? And can it take staples?” What? Yeah, it- You were pointing at the industrial strength paper shredder located next to his desk, and again without waiting for him to answer, you pressed a button on the machine and sent both magazines through the slot, teeth catching the thick paper and slicing it to ribbons. 

“Guess I’m not reading those.” 

“You don’t need to,” you shrugged, a spark in your eye catching his attention. “They’re lies, right?” 

“They are.” He watched the remains of the magazine crumple and curl into confetti, William’s face and words obliterated before his eyes. 

“Then what they say doesn’t matter.” You smiled and pulled your phone from your pocket, tapping the screen to answer a message as you took a sip of your coffee, tossing your empty cup on top of his in the bin. Finished with the message you were sending, you put your phone away and reorganized the file you brought with you. “Now,” Logan watched the way your left eyebrow lifted as a determined tone entered your voice. “Should we get started?”

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My Syracuse Pollinator Garden - Year 2

Hi everyone! I’m sure a lot of us are facing stress during these troubling times and so as I’ve mentioned before, gardening is an excellent way to take your mind off of current events, de-stress, reflect and connect yourself with nature while remaining in the safety of your own property. Last year, when I moved into my Syracuse apartment (technically a room in my landlady’s house; I’m here for grad school), I was granted permission to start a pollinator garden. I am a pollinator ecologist slash conservation biologist so I bring some expertise with me here. I say this because I always encourage anyone who sees this and is curious about doing it yourself to come and ask me questions! I highly recommend you check out last year’s post which thoroughly goes over 1) the principles of gardening for pollinators and wildlife, 2) resources to help you learn more and get started, 3) what plants I have in this garden, and 4) how it progressed over the course of the summer in 2019. Unfortunately, because of fieldwork and coursework I had trouble keeping up with it regularly so I think I missed a fall installment. I intend to be more thorough this year. Quite a lot has already happened, and I will review it the best I can and from this point forward, attempt monthly updates. 

I also want to mention that I’ve learned a lot since last year too - better ways of doing things, since I’m not a landscaper. Such as, you don’t have to break your back digging up turfgrass for hours on end. Instead, you can smother it for three months with old newspapers and get rid of it that way. It’s also important to note that the way I have my garden laid out is not ideal for a pollinator garden, it doesn’t follow every recommended principle. That’s because I had limitations and conditions under which I had to work, given that it’s not my own land and I had limited funds. But any effort is better than nothing, so don’t think that just because it’s not perfect, it’s not worth it. It is! You can always build, change, or improve upon it later. 

In the second year of a new garden with perennials, you can expect a lot more vibrant growth - the plants have established root systems and can put more energy into above-ground growth and flower production. Thus, I was thrilled to see my plants growing more vigorously than before! 

MARCH

Here in central New York, March was still freezing, wet, and snowy. But, by the end of the month, the garden was starting to show signs of life, sending up the first shoots of hardy native perennials.

In particular, the Jacob’s ladder already had quite a lot of new growth, with the nodding onion and yarrow close behind. In my herb garden, the chives had erupted with force from the leaf litter. The yard was still messy, with dead stems and fallen leaves blanketing much of the ground. My landlady insists I clean these, but if it’s your choice, leave the leaf litter around where you can. It’s important habitat for invertebrates and returns nutrients to the soil as it decomposes. 

APRIL

The world was beginning to wake up. I had cold-stratified hundreds of seeds of native plants I’d collected last fall, and it was time to take them out of the fridge. The wild cucumber (Echinocystis lobata) had already sprouted, so I planted them in pots. The rest, I put in a seed starter tray. 

Next, within the first few days of April, male hornfaced bees (Osmia cornifrons) started emerging in multitudes from my bee hotel. These are a non-native, but naturalized, species of mason bee common in suburbia and they are the most frequent users of bee hotels in the northeast. I watched as they dug through the mud cap on their natal nests, peeking out with fresh eyes at the sun for the very first time. I felt like a proud parent. (You can see more pictures here)

At the same time, male Dunning’s mining bees (Andrena dunningi) were patrolling the new nest sites of females, dug in the soil between the stones laid down near the front door.

There wasn’t much for these bees to forage on yet, mainly the wild violets that grow each year on the lawn and my landlady’s invasive vinca. But many more of my perennials had started to come up, and I decided it was time to cut the dead stems. 

It is best to cut dead stems back in April or so if you’re in a northern clime; the purpose of this is to offer nesting places for stem-nesting bees, which will start flying in April and May. Don’t cut them to the ground, give them several inches. Leaving stems through the winter also allows birds to forage on the seedheads.

Towards the end of April, despite several more snowstorms, the barren strawberry began to bloom.

I also saw the emergence of the female hornfaced bees, with males pursuing close behind. It is advised that you discard a bee hotel after the bees have emerged, or else they will try to nest in it again, which can lead to high mortality rates, as an old structure harbors parasites and is generally dirty. 

MAY 

May was a month of excitement. Given that I have been at home almost every day instead of being on campus, I was able to closely monitor the progress of the garden, apart from a week spent at home for my birthday. The dandelions dotted the yard, attracting gynes of common eastern bumblebees (Bombus impatiens) and the first honeybees (not native, need I remind you).

Alongside the dandelions was ground-ivy, which sent up stalks of purple flowers also used by the bumblebees. Almost all my plants had sprouted at this point.

My wild cucumber, which is a vine, had grown so rapidly that I couldn’t give it support fast enough, and eventually it decided to wind itself around my drapes. I brought one home as a gift for the parents, and placed the other two outside and snaked them around the front banister. However, despite my best efforts, only two other seeds from the hundreds I cold-stratified sprouted. A disappointment for sure; I was hoping to have swamp milkweed in the yard. But, there’s a chance for the wild hibiscus! Alas, with new growth comes deer, traipsing through the yard each night intent on nibbling my natives. They hit the columbine heavy this year as they did last year, and that stunted its growth and prevented it from flowering on time. I managed to protect it by putting a recycling bin over it each night. From the 7th to the 17th, I went home and visited a local native nursery.

There, I picked up a new plant for the garden - scarlet bee balm, Monarda didyma. I already have bee balm (M. fistulosa), but this species blooms red and is attractive to hummingbirds. 

When I got back to Syracuse, I was astounded to find how quickly everything had shot up. 

Among new blooms were the Jacob’s Ladder, woodland stonecrop, and finally, the wild columbine. The chives and thyme began to flower as well.

The milkweeds were one of the last to come up, being late to break dormancy. But once they did, they grew like lightning, gaining a foot in a week. 

I planted my row of annuals (cosmos and sunflowers) along the walkway, and added beans to my herb garden. The dill and basil sprouted and once they get a bit bigger I’ll transplant them outside. 

Then, in late May, I visited my advisor’s farm, and he gave me two new plants for the garden, from his own land - Golden Alexanders (Zizia aurea), which is a lovely yellow-flowered member of the carrot family which blooms in spring, and the classic purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea). They transplanted well.

Honestly, everything is doing better than I could have hoped. What were ungainly spaces between the plants last year are starting to fill in as they grow more vigorously - the single-stalked milkweed I put in last May is now 17 stalks, and I see seedlings of the biennial brown-eyed susans coming up all around it in a three foot radius. Even the purple prairie clover which was eaten to the ground by rabbits last summer has miraculously returned. The only thing I am still waiting on is the bottlebrush grass, which remains dormant. It’s a warm-season grass, so I hope as we get sustained high temperatures in June, it will come back! But its seedlings too are popping up all around the beds. 

And this sums up spring! It has become cold again for the week, but that won’t halt the growth once it’s started. The New England aster is almost half as tall as me, and my black raspberry has flowered and hopefully will produce a small handful for me to enjoy! 

Check back in late June for another update on the garden!