oh you hideous things

Angel VI - Writer!AU

Word count - 1311
Summary - Being the assistant of the writer Do Kyungsoo is rather.. interesting.


(1) / (2) / (3) / (4) / (5) / (6) / (7) / (8) / (9) / (10)

“Good lord, all foods on a stick. What is that?!” You reply with a sarcastic ‘good morning’ as you try to cover it with your hair, but Yixing coming closer to examine doesn’t make you feel any less exposed to your gift this morning. “Did you meet a bloodsucker on the way here?! That is not a very discreet hickey.”

His reaction is exquisite, “More like Do Kyungsoo, the life sucker.”

Memories of this morning come back to life, there has been a slight shift in ways to annoy each other when it comes to you two. Occasionally, Kyungsoo would still send you out to do meaningless things such as telling you to handwrite his perfectly printed schedule for the week, to just, in the end, tell you he can’t read it and use the printed version. All just to get on your bad side.

Then he has those days where he wakes up in the mood to make you flustered, to tease you. Just like today, when he attached his pouty lips to your collarbones just because you weren’t able to join him on his trip to Busan because you had an appointment with Yixing.

Yixing throws a scarf your direction and turns around telling you to cover it up, and when you tell him you are done he acts as if he has been holding up his breath for ages. “Thanks for letting me lend your scarf.”

“Believe me the pleasure is all mine, so now that all stains are.. ‘erased’.. let’s talk about the success of your short story! This has to be celebrated! So I think you shouldn’t be wearing baggy sweatpants tonight.” It amazes you how positive he can make you.

“Thank you so mu-”

Someone interrupts your words with repeated calls of your name, turning around you see someone unexpected standing in the doorway.


“Hyung! What are you doing here?” Jongin seems really out of breath, his hair is completely a mess though that kind of suits him.

“This is my place you punk,” he kicks his butt, “get out.”

Jongin ignores his words and just lets his butt get kicked repeatedly while he points at your breathlessly but manages to talk, “I need you,” he pulls you with him.

“What? No! Dongsaeng is mine today.” Yixing protests but before he can even stop Jongin, he already has already turned the corner with you following. “Kim Jongin I am older than you!”

Ignoring Yixing’s last words he shouts, “Goodbye, hyung!” quickly before the two of you completely disappear.

“Sorry for interrupting the two of you, I guess I just really wanted to speak to you.” He scratches the back of his head, “I kind of wanted to apologize and explain my behavior at the last party.”

“That’s okay,” you shrug as you hold a warm cup of tea between your hands blowing away the steam. Even though you said it’s no problem, judging by his expression he doesn’t feel the same way. Something is still bothering him.

“It’s just that… I guess that I just envied you.” Him envying you? The son of a millionaire that can seriously bathe in freshly printed bills? He laughs when he sees your frowned face and continues explaining. “You see I got accepted in this fancy pants arts place for my dancing in France, which is my dream, but since my father is so opposed to me going I have to throw my chance in the bin.”

“Why are you letting him stop you though? If you want to go.. then just go.”

“It’s not that simple, I also have my g-”

You interrupt him, “I think it is that simple. I don’t see why his opinion about your future is more important than your own. I know he is important, he is your father anyway. But I think you are old enough to decide for yourself, besides are you willing to live with the regret of not going?” He says nothing. “I thought so. I should go now..”

Taking your cup in hand you bid him farewell as you get up to leave, right before you walk outside the door he calls you to a halt. “Oh and.. thank you.” He smiles.


“What is that hideous thing around your neck?” You can see his frown through the screen.

“Oh this?” your hand reaches the scarf that is around your neck to cover up, “it’s Yixing’s.”

“Well, take it off.”

Does he really want the whole world to see what he did to you or something? “No.”


“No.” You protest again.

Now.” He demands.


“Do you want me to mark you on a more visible spot next time?” He threatens, and even though he is an arrogant self-satisfied jerk.. he does always keep his word when it comes to stuff like this. “Wouldn’t that feel much better?”

“Not really no,” you try to reach for it again but he quickly holds it out of your reach. “Come on, Kyungsoo. I can’t show up with something like this tonight.”

His lips curve into a cheeky smile as he mumbles, “I don’t mind looking at it all night.” While holding his laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” But he laughs anyway. “Hey look, I am still in Busan I have to get something done with Junmyeon, okay? I won’t make it back home so you should go by yourself to the party. I will meet you there. I swear.” He teases you by placing his lips to the front camera and laughs before he says goodbye.

But where is he?

You are standing in one of the most beautiful dresses you have ever even laid eyes upon, while the party takes place inside that has been thrown for you, and you are waiting for the man who promised you he’d be here. It has been over 2 hours and you have tried to reach his cellphone for at least 10 times now, yet he hasn’t picked up a single time. Yixing has tried to push you inside multiple times but has failed every attempt to succeed.

At the moment, you are growing desperate. He promised he’d be there, and half an hour too late he can’t even text you to tell you why he’s running late? Or at least tell you he is late?

You decide to just head inside, with a heavy heart and a head down. What if something happened to him?

By the time you are back inside after all the people congratulating you and giving you compliments on how your short story has affected their perspectives, you get back to head over to Yixing, who welcomes you with an open heart. Also concerned about your worries. “I can’t believe he said he’d come, I worked on this so hard for months and he just stood me up. I want to be mad at him, but what if it’s because something happened?” Right then someone catches your eyes.

“Junmyeon!” How did he get here? Wouldn’t he have driven with Kyungsoo to the party if they were together in Busan? Ignoring your question where Kyungsoo is, he instead congratulates you with a big hug. He obviously has consumed a lot, again. Like.. usually. “Junmyeon, you really need to tell me where Kyungsoo is.”

“Uhh..” he slurs, “the hospital.” You want to ask him if he is kidding. Ask him if he is serious. Make it clear for yourself that he isn’t saying random stuff because he is drunk. But when you ask him to confirm it, the words still don’t hit you. As if your world has stopped for a second and you can’t comprehend the information that is being passed to you right now. “I said the hospital!! Hospital!!”

“Then what the hell are you doing there! Why aren’t you with him?! Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”

Junmyeon giggles, and shrugs. “ohhhh, it’s not him! It’s that Miyoung that got into an accident.”

A/N: Yea, after ages of not updating this story I kinda feel like this is a bad chapter but it gets extremely dramatic from here so hm.. it was so short it’s embarrassing. I will update the next one quickly, as an err.. christmas present :)?

anonymous asked:

Pharmercy prompt - Reinhardt makes everyone in Overwatch Christmas Sweaters. He also plays Matchmaker by making Angela and Fareeha's sweaters matching. (Side note, his sweater matches Ana's sweater)..

I tried to go away from Christmas sweaters specifically and to more generic tacky winter sweaters, because in addition to not wanting to focus too heavily on a Christian holiday for characters who are mostly non-Christian, tacky winter sweaters means I have a legitimate excuse to put Rein in a bear sweater and Winston with a sweater that just has a huge jar of peanut butter embroidered over his stomach. Which is something we all need in our lives honestly.

Here have some Pharmercy and Anarein fluff for your holiday needs! May be very poorly written. Because I wanted to have this written for today. But I’m with family, so I didn’t have a ton of time to write … or really think today - I’ll be back at it with better content soon!


“You can go a bit … overboard at times,” says Ana, laughing.

Reinhardt grins down at her. She’s wearing his sweater. The sweater he made, yes, but also the one he made for himself. It’s sleeves hang off her arms and it goes down to her knees. Her reasoning: she liked it more than the one he’d made for her. Reinhardt doesn’t mind at all.

Though, because he refuses to let his knitting talents go to waste, he’s taken it upon himself to wear Ana’s neglected sweater.

It stops at his elbows, is very tight, and exposes his midriff. Torbjörn complains of his victimized eyes, but Reinhardt is elated and couldn’t care less.

When he goes in to hug Ana, the identical brown bears stitched into the sweaters, their arms and paws following the path of the sleeves, look like they’re hugging and it is a literal bear hug. Reinhardt makes it a point to hug her often.

“Nonsense!” Reinhardt bellows, watching as Ana sifts through the many, many, homemade sweaters. Mei’s has snowy mountains with skiers, Zenyatta’s is tie-died, Genji has one with an embroidered imitation of his brother’s tattoo on the sleeve. Jack’s is the gaudiest Christmas sweater Ana has ever laid eyes on - with jingle bells, and a goggly eyed reindeer. Ana chuckles to herself and resolves to keep her camera on her for when Reinhardt hands it to the old solider.

Reinhardt grins proudly as Ana continues looking at them. It had taken him months, so many months. Very worth it.

“Oh…” says Ana, lifting up two, a smirk fitting easily on her lips. Reinhardt sees the two she has singled out, and his grin falls into an easy smile. “Reinhardt, are you meddling?”

“Meddling!” Reinhardt laughs, “I would never!”

“Hmmm,” Ana hums, “as Fareeha’s mother, I don’t approve.”

Reinhardt flops down beside the woman, wraps an arm around her shoulders, grins cheekily.

“Sure, sure,” he says, “but as the finest meddler of us all …?”

Ana’s smirk widens she sets the two sweaters down, looks at her co-conspirator casually.

“…I’ll handle Angela,” she responds, takes a sip from her tea. Reinhardt laughs, boisterous and loud, the sweater he’s wearing rises higher up his sides. Ana chuckles.


“Hello Ana,” says Angela, glancing up from the academic article she had been reading. She’s got glasses sliding down her nose; reading glasses, vaguely tinted to lessen the harsh glare which accompanies spending hours looking at a screen.

Ana is a unique presence around the various watchpoints. Like many of the old agents of overwatch, she seems to capture the attention of the rooms she walks into. Demanding to be acknowledged, addressed. She does it now, even in Angela’s medbay, surrounded by Angela’s work, ideas, and stale coffee.

Angela humors this invisible order to be acknowledged when they interact. Out of respect, mostly; and also maybe a bit out of guilt - Angela has been flirting with Fareeha for the better part of the last three months and although they are both adults, capable of making their own decisions, Angela feels as though Ana is always watching her a little closer than she watches the others. Seeing things she shouldn’t, which are none of her business.

“Would you like some coffee?” Angela asks.

“Tea? If you have it,” Ana says. Angela does, not because she drinks it - she doesn’t - but because Fareeha has become a frequent visitor and is a tea drinker. Angela doesn’t say this, doesn’t really need to, Ana will know the brand, will probably guess why she has it, so she simply hums in affirmation and goes to make the older Amari a cup.

When Ana takes a sip she sends Angela a meaningful look and Angela’s eyes flicker away briefly - not of her own volition. There it is, Ana has seen something; something she shouldn’t have. Angela clears her throat. Attempts to divert the attention of the non-verbal spar the two always seem to be in.

“That is an … interesting sweater,” Angela notes, smiling politely. It is important, with Ana, to never give too much away.

Ana smiles in a pleasant way.

“Thank you, it was a gift from Reinhardt,” Ana says. Angela looks at her knowingly. Ana waves her off.

“Say what you are going to.”

“I was only going to say that you two are very cute together,” Angela responds. Pauses: “and also that that sweater is much larger than anyone could reasonably hope to fill.”

There’s a question in there, about the intended owner of the thing, but Ana doesn’t answer it. Instead, she smiles coyly and says thank you.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“Funnily, I’m here to deliver a gift; in the form of a sweater - though you might have guessed that.”

Angela watches as Ana digs in the bag at her feet. It’s something to be said about Ana that Angela didn’t even notice she walked in with the bag.

“Oh Ana …” The thing is hideous, “… you shouldn’t have,” Angela says, takes the offending article hesitantly.

“Oh Angela,” says Ana, smirking, “I think Reinhardt will be very sad if you don’t wear it.”

Ana waits until Angela has the sweater on before she finally leaves. Angela blows a stray hair out of face and groans.


“Fareeha!” Reinhardt yells, joyously.

“Reinhardt!” Fareeha yells in turn, confused, pivots around. Zarya and Mei both also turn their attention. They are all in the gym together. Fareeha stands from the machine she’s using.

“I’ve got something for you,” Reinhardt grins, pats her heavily on the back.

Fareeha, who has always admired Reinhardt, beams with happiness.

“I’ve got something for all of you actually!”

“Oh presents!” Mei smiles, Zarya laughs. Reinhard pulls out his bag, distributes his gifts.

Fareeha blinks when Reinhardt lays a sweater in her hand. Unfolds it. It’s bright blue, bright, bright blue, with a little dove on a branch. Fareeha studies it closely and when she feels she’s being rude for having not yet responded she slips it on over her head and surprises both herself and Reinhardt by hugging him. And then feeling propriety rear its head again, she steps back.

“Thank you,” she tells him sincerely. Reinhardt smiles.

“You’re welcome!”

“Yes, thank you!” Laughs Zarya, wearing a multicolored monstrosity - stripes: burgundy, purple and brown.

And Zarya, who has no qualms about propriety grabs the three others and hugs them so tight Fareeha feels like she may not be able to breath afterward. Mei laughs, Reinhardt grins, Fareeha feels warm all over.


“Hello stranger,” Angela says, by way of announcement.

Fareeha turns from her seat on the couch.

It’s late, nearly midnight, she’s watching an old crime noir movie, a cup of something warm is in her lap.

“Hello,” Fareeha smiles, pats the couch. Angela walks around, looks her up and down and then sits.

“I like your sweater,” she says, her voice even and controlled.

“I like yours,” Fareeha replies, scoots closer to her. They’re basically the same. Bright, bright blue. Fareeha’s with a dove, a red string in its mouth. The string flies off the side of hers, picks up on Angela’s and ends in the mouth of a falcon on a branch.

“They are …”

“I love them,” Fareeha grins.

“Yes, well, you have no sense of fashion.” Angela replies.

“That is not true.”

“Fareeha Amari, you walked through town the other day in sweatpants.” Angela replies reasonably. Fareeha chuckles, kisses her on the cheek.

“I’m never taking it off,” she says. For a long moment they are both silent.

“I think that I know of an incentive for you to remove it,” Angela responds, takes the cup from Fareeha’s hand and takes a sip. Fareeha is at a loss for words, her mind racing; she doesn’t even attempt to stop her.


“You are the loveliest enabler I have ever had the pleasure of knowing,” says Reinhardt, walking away from the communal living room. Ana moves her hand down to hold his, smiles secretly.

“I only want them to be happy,” she says simply.

“As do I,” Reinhardt responds.

@dustin-parrish replied to your post: [pm] Thanks for not freaking out about what I told…

[pm] Wait, didn’t I mention, also Quinn and I got matching tattoos! And oh my god, that is not even an insult, that thing is super cute! Unlike you, you bathroom-hogging Condylura cristata.

[pm] That is illegal, big brother. You’re not eighteen yet. Plus you said that you had never done anything illegal, so I win.

Star nosed moles are great, the thing I called you is hideous oh my god, you Lophius.


To EXO’s one and only Umin hyung! I know that I’ll never get a chance to meet you but I will just support you in every way that I can. Even if it means screaming at the top of my lungs until I nothing comes out anymore. Thank you so much for being such an inspiration to me, and to every EXO fan.

Happy 25th Birthday, our dear Kim Minseok. May you live many more lives, and I hope that you’ll continue to be successful in whatever you do. ♥