#How To Get Washable Marker Off Of Skin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

love-skincareroutine · 4 years ago

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How To Get Washable Marker Off Skin

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How To Get Washable Marker Off Skin

A. How to Get Pen and Permanent Marker Off of Skin

It is almost incredible how many problems children can get with a single marker. One minute they are happily doodling on a piece of paper, and the next they are getting themselves (or their brothers) fake tattoos and a face full of felt makeup. Fortunately (for you and her) not even permanent ink is permanent with the right tools and tricks. Here’s what to do to remove the pen or permanent marker from your skin – or yours.

1. Tips for removing pen or permanent marker from your skin

You can be comforted to know that ink from a permanent marker or pen fades naturally over time – two to three days, according to the Northern New England Poison Center. Even if you do nothing, your child’s skin will soon return to its original condition. In some cases, e.g. For example, if the marker is on an inconspicuous part of the body, doing nothing may be preferable to other methods, as certain products or rubbing repeatedly can be more irritating to the skin.

“Soap and water help with normal hand washing, and the rest eventually dissolves after a number of baths,” said Erin Kravitz, who has a young daughter, to Mom.com. “Most things are soaked in the bathtub, especially with the help of a cloth.”

2. Removal of skin blemishes with household products

However, if you can’t or don’t want to wait for the ink to disappear on its own, these suggestions can help. A general note: like most other spots, the ink on the skin is easier to remove when it is relatively fresh. So if you can put your child in the bathtub, or at least near a sink, you can quickly get better results.

a. Soap and water

If the ink stains in question are water-based – you’re in luck! – They should be quite easy to remove during the normal bath. Water-based paints are often used in washable markers for children, such as: B. Crayola, who recommends good old soap and water to erase accidental body art.

“Typically, Crayola washable products can be removed from the skin by washing with soap and water,” says the company’s website. “If soap and water don’t work, try wet wipes, baby oil or make-up remover. Since crayons are water-based washable products, keeping the area around the stain moist can help remove it. ”

b. Baby wipes

Crayola recommended wet wipes for more resistant and washable stains can also be used with ballpoint pen ink or permanent marker. And because they are formulated for babies, they are probably softer on your child’s skin than some other home remedies you can find on the Internet.

c. Baby oil

Baby oil is commonly used to remove makeup and temporary tattoos. So it makes sense that people would also recommend it for ink stains. According to Healthline, baby oil “adheres to excess skin oil and removes all substances” – possibly including a permanent marker. The website suggests applying a small amount of oil to the area and then washing it off.

d. Milk

It sounds strange, but a home remedy that Good Housekeeping mentions to remove permanent skin stains is to put a cotton ball in the milk and rub over the stain. There have been mixed analyzes of the effectiveness of this method – some say it is better to remove stains from fabrics and upholstery – but if you happen to have a little milk on hand, it probably doesn’t hurt to try.

3. Other methods

Many people say that alcohol is the key to ink stains, but you need to exercise caution. Alcohol can be easily inhaled or absorbed through the skin, creating a risk of isopropyl alcohol poisoning. Children are particularly at risk, which is why the American Academy of Pediatrics on its website HealthyChildren.org emphasizes that alcohol should never be used to lower a child’s fever. If you have a permanent mark on your skin, a small amount of alcohol in a cotton ball – used in a well-ventilated area! – it may be good, but for children or stains that cover large parts of the body, it is better to try something different or let the paint fade naturally.

B. Removing Permanent Marker from Your Skin

We offer products that we believe are useful to our readers. If you buy through the links on this page, we can earn a small commission. Here is our process. The ink happens. From time to time, it is possible to get permanent ink on your skin. Unlike tattoo ink, which is actually embedded in your skin, permanent ink – think of sharp markers – just touches the surface. This means that it will disappear over a few days. However, there may be ways to remove permanent marker stains from your skin a little faster. Watch out for so-called remedies that can do more harm than good to your skin – you may accidentally get more than one permanent marker.

1. Remove the permanent marker from the skin

According to the Northern New England Poison Center, it can take two to three days for the permanent marker to disappear from the skin on its own. If you want to remove the marker a little faster, you can also incorporate one of the following methods into your washing routine. You will probably have to repeat these methods several times before you see the results. There are also aggressive ingredients that you don’t want to apply to your skin. This includes baking soda and bleach. Also, do not use ingredients that may have an allergic reaction.

a. Sea salt shell

Sea salt has natural exfoliating properties. When mixing with warm water, you can make a gentle exfoliation to exfoliate the top layer of the skin. Mix equal parts of salt water and warm water to make a paste. Gently massage the scrub into your skin – but don’t rub it – twice a day.

b. Olive oil or coconut oil

If you have olive oil or coconut oil at home, apply a small amount to your skin and rub gently before rinsing. These oils can help to bind to your epidermis. In theory, the oil can adhere to the permanent marker marks on your skin and help to remove them smoothly.

c. Baby oil

The idea behind mineral oil, or baby oil, is that it can adhere to excess skin oil and remove any substances. In theory, this would also work with permanent stains. Apply a small amount of oil to the affected area and then wash and rinse as normal. However, be careful if you have acne-prone skin, as applying extra oils can lead to subsequent rashes.

d. Whitening toothpaste

The same properties of toothpaste that help lighten surface stains on teeth can also lighten permanent marker points on your skin. Use this method twice a day. As a bonus, you can even use a new toothbrush to exfoliate. Massage gently in a circular motion around the colored skin and rinse well.

e. Chemical-based remover

Household chemical removers can remove permanent marker pigment when you are in an emergency. These include:

Isopropyl Alcohol

Nail polish remover

Hand sanitizer

You can use this up to twice a day. Apply a small amount with a cotton ball and rinse with warm water.

f. Make up remover

Makeup remover can be another solution to remove permanent marks from your skin. This is also a less harsh option compared to household chemical removers. Apply with a cotton ball and massage in a circular motion for a few seconds. Rinse thoroughly with warm water.

2. Is the ink not healthy for the skin?

Traditional permanent markers found in office supply stores are not intended for your skin. In fact, permanent markers contain ingredients considered to be toxic, such as resin, xylene and toluene. If these markers come into contact with your skin, they may be slightly irritated. Symptoms include redness, swelling and itching. Permanent marker vapors can also irritate the eyes, nose and throat.

3. Safer ink for the skin

Accidental marking with permanent ink is unlikely to cause adverse symptoms. With that said, you don’t want to purposely put a permanent marker on your skin. If you are interested in markers for your skin for sports or tattoos, find markers that are designed specifically for the skin. They are also waterproof, but, unlike their traditional marker, they do not contain toxic ingredients.

The permanent marker will eventually disappear from the pores with regular washing and natural oils. However, if you want to remove marker stains a little faster, consider the home remedies above. However, be careful not to use substances that you are allergic to or sensitive to. Consult a doctor if you develop rashes or swelling due to permanent marker marks on the skin.

C. How to Get Crayola Markers Off Your Kids Skin

Then you bought your child a set of Crayola markers. They just wanted to get Picasso out of him. The next thing you know, he’s just messing up his skin with them. Freaky? You shouldn’t be. Pencil markers are made in such a way that, although your child uses his whole body with drawing paper, he can easily remove it from the skin. And that is what we are focusing on today. We’ll show you how to easily remove Crayola markers from your child’s skin.

1. Ways to remove markers from children’s skin

There are several methods that can be used to easily remove the marker from your child’s skin. While some may work, others may not. That’s why we talk about all the effective ones.

a. Method 1: using soap and water

Most Crayola markers are washable. You can try using soap and water to improve the situation. If you can only use the method when the spot on your child’s skin is recent, it will work best.

Use warm water to moisturize your skin first. Next, you need to use a clean towel and add some detergent.

Now rub the stain in a circular motion while proceeding smoothly. This trick will help you to remove almost all the stain. To make sure it is completely erased, you will need to clean the area several times.

b. Method 2: using disinfectants

Hand sanitizer is very useful for removing stains from markers. When we say disinfectant, we mean that it is “alcohol” that does the trick.

This works perfectly as a catalyst for removing paint. Because they are “HAND SANITIZERS”, they are also kind to the skin.

Enough talk, let’s see how it works. First, you need to apply a small amount of disinfectant to your child’s skin. You will see the ink reactivate. Clean it with a cotton ball.

When you’re done, just rub the skin to remove the marks.

c. Method 3: makeup remover

Who said makeup removers can only be used to get rid of makeup? You can also use them to remove Crayola markers from your child’s skin. In addition, it is one of the safest methods to use when aiming at the eye area.

To do this, you need to use a cotton ball and put some remover on it. Now, carefully clean the stains. You can also use the remover to remove ink stains.

Once you’re done, it’s time to rinse your skin with warm water.

d. Method 4: baby wipes

To remove difficult but washable stains, the Crayola team recommends the wipes themselves. Remember, they don’t work with permanent markers.

However, baby wipes are the most delicate alternative to everything else, as they are only made for babies and toddlers.

e. Method 5: baby oil

Of course, if you have a baby in your home with your child, you also have baby oil in your home. Use it as a quick alternative to remove the marks.

Your child already has excess oil on his skin. What baby oil does is basically sticking to excess oils while removing stains. The best part? You can also use baby oil to remove permanent markers.

f. Method 6: using milk

You read that right, “milk”. This will help you to clean these marks. Knowing how to properly apply milk to your child’s skin can also help remove permanent stains.

However, you will hear mixed reviews on the subject. There are mothers who say that applying milk only works if the stain is on the upholstery or on the fabrics. On the other hand, we have no problem with trying your child’s hand.

2. Here are some that are not for you

Now we talk about rubbing hand sanitizer and they have alcohol, even though it’s just a tiny portion. You will find that some people try to remove alcohol on their own to clean the stains, and yes, it also works. However, when applying it to your child’s skin, you must also take the necessary care. You should know that the skin absorbs alcohol very quickly, which can lead to isopropyl alcohol poisoning.

Your child’s skin is delicate and if you rub the alcohol carelessly, there is a chance that the skin will be vulnerable to withstand the reaction. Therefore, even when applying it, you should use only a very small portion and rub with a cotton ball.

3. Summary

Well, that was all there was to remove Crayola markers from your son’s skin. We talked about all the effective methods here so you can choose the method that best suits you. Don’t worry, one of these will definitely work for you, no matter what. But remember that we do not recommend drinking alcohol unless it is really necessary.

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fushigujiro · 3 years ago

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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

➤ Pairing; Draken, Hanma, Rindou, Shinichiro x gn!reader!

➤ Warnings; fluffy stuff~

DRAKEN

Ken loves it when you help out at his shop with him. He is working with new bikes at the back and he looks up through the door that leads to you at the front desk just writing whatever information is needed. He also loves it when you take care of customers when he can’t at that certain time or moment. He also VERY MUCH adores you when you have the same knowledge as him when it comes to bikes and motors. It’s like such a turn on for him, when he can just be staring at you with so much love and then when you finish talking and you notice he’s just staring at you then all of a sudden he just picks you up and hugs you tight with a genuine smile on his face.

“Look at my girl being such a nerd~”

“But you love it!”

“That I do….and you too.”

HANMA

Shuji loves it when you kiss the tattoos on both of his hands. You two are just laying down on the bed cuddling each other then he feels two lingering kisses on the backs of his hands and finds you who is the cause of it. Even though he acts like he doesn't like it which he fully does, he loves it when you get a boatload of markers and just colour his tattoos. Seeing you just get excited and seeing you concentrate while trying to draw on his skin makes is heart clench so bad.

“What are you doing?”

“Definitely not coloring your hands..”

“Baby—”

“IT’S WASHABLE!!”

RINDOU

Rindou absolutely adores it when you give a lot of kisses. It’s very simple but it makes him feel so loved that he wants to cry. It did one time-- ALMOST but it did happen. He comes home from a meeting or just out with his brother and the second the door closes is the second you are in his arms giving him boat loads of small kisses and pecks. he thinks he felt a lick on his face but he’ll let it pass. The more kisses you give him, the more you're gonna hear little giggles from him-- bro, HE SOUNDS SO CUTE MAN!!

One time when he came home, and he didn't get kisses when he opened or closed the door to the house, he got grumpy quick. Pouting, arms crossed and everything..flipping baby. He found out you were just distracted by the game you were playing on your phone all the way upstairs in your shared room. He stood at the door way with his foot tapping on the ground very loudly to catch your attention and when you seen him you smiled but looked at him in confusion as to why he looks like that. Then you quickly figured that you didn’t give him his kisses when he came home and ran to him full speed with a whole lotta kisses to give. He went to sleep with a satisfied smile...he's such a brat bro i swear

SHINICHIRO

Shinichiro loves it when you are basically..you! He has no specific thing he loves about you because he loves all of you equally...okay I AM TELLING THE TRUTH, I AM, but he loves it when you are very intimidating..make sense? Like for example, you and his friends are hanging out at a park bench just talking, laughing, and then all of a sudden a group of people, men, like 3 or 5, pop up walking towards you guys.

“Well hello there sweet thang~”

You cringe at the unfamiliar and flirty voice that was close to you and was most likely thrown at you. You turned around and so do the others to look at the weird guys right behind you. They were taller than you, yes, but they didn't scare you one bit.

“I am not a ‘sweet thang’ and what do you want?”

Your annoyed voice was known as you were already tired off these men behind you already. Shinichiro just sat back and enjoyed to whatever was about to happen knowing you know how to take care of yourself.

“Ouuuuuuu, she's a tough cookie~ we like those.”

“Luckly, she doesn't like you.”

“She’s taken you freak now, walk away,.”

Wakasa and Akashi spoke as Benkei stood up ready to deal with them but you held out your hand to stop him from moving any further. He listens to you but stays behind you if anything as the guy continues to speak.

“And who is that special man then, huh? That boy right there?”

The guy points to Shinichiro who just looks at him unamused. You narrow your eyes at him at the slight jab he made at your boyfriend.

“And what about it?”

“He definitely looks like a little ass loser who also can’t-”

The way your foot connected with his covered junk, and with the way it made a little crack definitely made the guys shut up and just wheezed his way oall the way down to the ground while holding his private part in pain. The other guys that were with him, already started to walk backwards fast, not only because of you but the way Benkei was staring right at them.

“It’s a good thing that he is my loser then.”

You finished and looked up at bekei who gave you a pat on the head and went ahead to the guy still in pain. Akashi and Wakasa turned their backs towards you like something serious was up..

“What’s wrong?”

“We heard that crack, y/n.”

“You will never get the chance to kick my dick even if you're mad at me.”

“Flippin demon.”

You laughed at how they looked spooked out by the thought of them getting kicked in the same place. You look at Shinichiro who has his head on his hand just looking at you dreamily.

“What’s with you now?”

“Baby, you can kick me anytime you want..THAT WAS SO HOT!”

“Of course he would say this...sicko.”

“WAKA HUSH!”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #ken ryuguji #draken #draken x reader #ken ryuuguji x reader #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #hanma shuuji x reader #hanma x reader #hanma shuji #tokyo rev #— %megatypes🎐….

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bellakitse · 3 years ago

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Greener on the Other Side

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, not believing what she’s just said. “Say that again, please.”

“I said he’s married,” she repeats herself softly, giving him a pitying look. “And he has a kid."

Alex hasn't heard anything about TK Strand in over four years. That's about to change.

Alex Fletcher walks into Gramercy Tavern twenty minutes later than he agreed to meet his friends. He already dreads what is sure to be a lecture on his constant tardiness from the group, but more so, what he knows will be pointed looks when they see he’s come alone instead of with his boyfriend.

Spotting them to the left of the restaurant, he starts to make his way over to them. “Sorry, sorry,” he starts to say with a charming smile as all five of them look up at his voice, hoping to curb the scolding before it starts. “The 6 train was an absolute mess. It got the 33rd street and then refused to go forward.”

Liz and Becca share a look at his excuse, and Alex has to keep from rolling his eyes at them. He gets it. Being late is one of his less desirable character traits, and they find it annoying, but after over a decade of friendship, he thinks they should get over it by now.

“Yeah, the trains have been acting up all week,” Malcolm offers while his wife Patricia gives him a small smile, the two of them ever the peacemakers of the group. “Sit down, man.”

Alex offers his friends a more sincere smile, shaking hands with him and his other buddy Chris before giving all three women kisses on the cheek.

“Where is Dean?” Patricia asks politely, and Alex winces at her mistake. It’s been a while since he and Dean ended things, but it’s also been a while since Patricia has joined her husband at one of their dinners.

“We broke up a few months ago,” he tells her, his face feeling tight from his fake smile. “I’m dating someone new now. His name is Wallace.”

“Oh,” Patricia says softly, going a little red in the face at her blunder. “My apologies, Alex.”

He waves her off, wanting to move on from the embarrassing moment quickly. “No worries, Patty,” he says to her. “And Wallace wanted to come, but he had to work,” he explains, trailing off lamely, not believing the lie himself, but it’s not like he can tell his friends that Wallace simply didn’t want to come because he thought it would be boring.

His friends all give him understanding, if not quite believing looks, and Alex wonders just how pathetic his expression is that they don’t push for more.

The mood around the table is awkward and quiet, making his skin feel tight. Thankfully their waiter comes over to take their drink order, easing the moment, giving him something else to focus on.

He starts to loosen up once there is a vodka soda in his hand. He listens to Liz as she talks about her latest architecture project, laughs at the funny story Chris tells them about his 1st-grade class painting the class bunny with washable markers. He’s enjoying their company, forgetting for a moment that his boyfriend should be there with him getting to know his friends when Becca’s eyes light up as Chris wraps up another story about his students.

“You guys will never believe who I saw yesterday walking out of FAO Schwarz,” she starts, her brown eyes lighting up with the chance to share some juicy gossip.

Alex leans in, already intrigued by the look on her face.

“Who?” Liz asks with a grin, curious herself.

“TK Strand,” Becca answers, saying the name with emphasis, and Alex gets why even as he feels shock go through him. It’s been over four years since he has seen or heard from TK. Not since the night he stopped him from proposing, confessing he was in love with someone else.

Mitchell, he thinks bitterly as he takes a large gulp of his drink. In the end, he’d turned out to be Alex’s own personal karma for hurting TK.

Walking in on him and another guy from their gym eight months into their official relationship had been a kick in the teeth and a hard lesson to learn.

He shakes his head to clear it from the lousy memory just in time to hear Becca’s following comment, shocking him more than her first. “I’m sorry,” he gasps, not believing what she’s just said. “Say that again, please.”

Becca looks at him, hesitating as she bites down on her lip, looking remorseful for a moment, probably remembering that out of all of them, he’d be the one with the most invested interest.

“I said he’s married,” she repeats herself softly, giving him a pitying look. “And he has a kid. They were coming out of the toy store when I bumped into them, and he introduced them to me. His husband’s name is Carlos, and their little boy is Luca. Really cute kid – was talking a mile a minute about all the toys in the place, and given all the bags they had, they must have bought him half the store.”

“Wow,” Chris breathes out, his surprise evident. “I can’t believe he’s married and with a kid. How old do you think?”

“Four,” Becca answers instantly. “I asked Luca, and he held up his fingers.”

Alex shakes his head again. It’s been four years since he and TK were together, and he has a four-year-old son. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he says mostly to himself.

“I get the feeling he’s adopted,” Becca answers. “Or maybe Carlos’ son,” she continues with a shrug. “But he called TK dad.”

“What was the husband like?” Liz questions, and Alex is grateful because he can’t bring himself to ask.

“He was polite and friendly,” Becca pauses, shooting him another look before continuing. “Ridiculously hot, and hopelessly in love with TK. I spent maybe ten minutes with them, and you guys should have seen the way he looked at him. It was like TK hung the moon.”

The table is quiet for a moment. For his benefit, he’s sure, as he tries to process everything he’s learned, when Liz speaks up again.

“Good for TK. He deserves that and more,” she says with a smile on her face that takes a hard edge when he shoots her a glare. “What?” she questions, her whole expression challenging him. “You didn’t take care of him when you guys were together, and he’s a great guy. I always liked him even though we lost touch after you broke up. I’m glad he’s found happiness.”

Alex bites down on the urge to lash out at his friend, not only is it a losing battle with Liz, but deep down in the parts of him where he has buried his guilt and shame at his past actions, he knows he can’t argue with the truth she just laid on him.

֎֎֎

The rest of the dinner is awkward to say the least. Even though they move on from TK, Alex can’t stop thinking about his ex and what he’s learned. He pulls Becca to the side as they’re leaving, grilling her for any more information she might have.

She finally tells him TK had mentioned they were staying with his mother and little brother – one of the few things he did know about TK and his family since Gwyneth and his father ran in the same legal circles. He’d learned about the woman’s surprise pregnancy almost three years ago.

Becca looks at him as he absorbs the information before letting out a heavy sigh, reminding him not to do anything stupid.

He’d given her an absent nod that even he didn’t believe. Which is probably why he’s outside of Gwyneth’s Park Avenue apartment in a hat and sunglasses like a stalker, hoping to catch a glimpse of his ex and his husband.

Whether luck is on his side or karma wants to teach him another lesson, he doesn’t have to wait long. He’s been outside of the swanky apartment building for maybe 15 minutes, trying to decide what exactly he thinks he’s doing, when the front door opens and out walks the person he wants to see.

He ducks behind a tree just in time to not be spotted, peeking behind it to look at the small family.

TK, at 26-years-old, had been a beautiful man; Alex remembers that well. But now, at 30, he’s even more stunning if that’s even possible. He walks out of the building with a tall, muscular man Alex instantly recognizes as the ‘ridiculously hot’ mystery husband. Each of them with a little boy in their arms.

“So what are we doing today?” he hears TK ask with a grin on his face as the little boys instantly start to chant, ‘Park, park, park!’

“I wanna see the penguins, Dada,” exclaims the little boy in the arms of TK’s husband. Carlos and Luca, he remembers.

TK smiles softly at his son before looking at the child in his own arms. “What about you, little brother? Do you want to go to the Central Park Zoo and see the penguins?” he asks, tickling his chin, getting a happy giggle along with a nod from the little boy.

TK’s grin grows before he looks over at his husband, getting a nod from the man too.

“It’s unanimous then,” TK proclaims in an animated voice that has the boys lighting up. “To the park! To the penguins!”

The pair of boys let out a ‘yeah!’ leaning over at each other to share a clumsy high-five that has the adults laughing.

“You just had to rile them up, troublemaker,” Carlos scolds TK, and he might be a stranger to Alex, but he can tell it’s said with amused fondness.

“You love me,” TK teases his husband, going easily when the man reaches out to tug him in closer by his shirt, turning his face up as his husband leans in to kiss him, tilting to the side to keep the boys out of the way.

Alex swallows hard at the display. Even from where he’s hiding, he can see TK’s bright smile and dancing green eyes once he and his husband break the kiss.

“Always, my love,” Carlos tells TK as he kisses the side of his face adoringly.

“Dada, Papa,” Luca groans out. “Kissing later, park now,” he continues, much to the amusement of the two men.

“So demanding,” TK teases, leaning in to kiss the little boy’s cheek too, laughing at the face he makes. “Okay, let’s go.”

They start towards the park, and Alex hesitates for a moment. He’s seen and heard TK and his family with his own eyes and ears. It’s obvious his ex is happy and not at all thinking about him. He should turn around in the opposite direction and leave before his luck runs out and they spot him. It’s the reasonable thing to do, and yet he finds himself following them about half a block back, keeping his head down.

He can’t hear them from this distance, but he can watch them. He takes in the way the two men hold hands while each holding on to a child, listening and chatting with the two little ones. Everything about them screams family, and Alex can’t deny the dull ache it causes inside his chest.

Is this what he and TK could have had?

He follows them through the park until they come to a series of benches. He watches as TK hands over his little brother to his husband, the man easily carrying both kids. TK sits down, but no one else does. Instead, he waves at them as his husband walks away with the children, leaving TK alone.

Alex hesitates again. This is his chance to approach TK, and yet he’s frozen in place by indecision.

A moment later, his ex takes the choice out of his hand.

He startles as TK turns his head to look straight at him with a raised eyebrow. “Are you just going to stand there?” he calls out to him casually, the picture of calm as he places his arms on the backrest of the bench. It’s different from the TK he remembers, who was always constantly bouncing his legs with nervous energy.

“How did you – “ he starts, feeling awkward and off-balance.

“I didn’t,” TK answers with a shrug as Alex gets closer to him. “It was Carlos who realized. He’s a cop. Noticing weirdos is kind of his job.”

Alex cringes at the descriptor as he comes to a stop in front of him. “Hi, TK,” he says lamely, wincing again at the high pitch sound of his voice.

TK raises an eyebrow at him again. “Hello, Alex. Any particular reason you’re following us in that get-up?” he questions, pointing at his hat and sunglasses.

Alex feels his face grow hot at the question. He reaches up, taking them off. “Becca said she saw you,” he says uncomfortably, getting a casual nod back from his ex. “And I got curious,” he continues weakly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“That sounds like poor impulse control,” TK mutters to himself. He moves to the side, leaving half the bench open for Alex to decide if he wants to take a seat or not.

Alex would be embarrassed by the speed with which he takes the offer, but the joy at being allowed to get closer overrides that. Neither says anything after he sits down, him because he’s nervous, TK it seems because he’s simply waiting him out.

“So,” he starts slowly. “You’re visiting?”

TK looks at him, seeming to study him before giving him a nod. “We try to see my mother and my little brother Robbie every few months. Sometimes they come to see us, but New York is always pretty in the spring, and Luca has never been.”

“That’s your son,” he blurts out, his face going hot again at the look TK shoots him.

“Becca shared everything, did she,” he questions with a dry smile, shaking his head to himself.

“The group had dinner,” he explains, not needing to add who exactly was there. There was a time when TK would have sat right next to him at one of those dinners, charming everyone with stories about fighting fires and daring rescues.

“Ah,” TK exhales softly. “It’s nice you all still do that. They’re good people. I liked them.”

“They liked you too,” Alex answers, giving TK a half-smile. “Liz was thrilled to hear that you’re married and have a kid. She’s happy you’re happy.”

TK smiles, this time more genuine. “That sounds like her,” he comments, looking nostalgic for the first time. “She was always kind to me,” he finishes, not adding anything else.

It goes quiet between them again, causing Alex’s nerves to fray at the edges. He’s not used to this TK. The one he remembers always filled the silence, even if it was just with nervous chatter.

“So, are you?” he can’t help but blurt out, swallowing nervously when TK gives him a curious look. “Are you happy?”

TK lets out a huff, and while he doesn’t smile or laugh, Alex can see a hint of amusement in his bottle-green eyes. “Is that why you’re here? You want to know if I’m happy?”

He feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand at the mocking he hears in TK’s voice. “Is that so crazy?” he questions defensively. “The last time we spoke wasn’t precisely the best encounter – “

“That’s because I was getting ready to propose to you and instead found out you were fucking around my back with a spin instructor,” TK interrupts him, surprising Alex with how calm he is. There is no anger or reproach in TK’s voice like Alex anticipated, just a simple fact. It hurts Alex more than he expected to witness how unaffected TK seems. “How is Mitchell by the way?”

Alex clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms as embarrassment courses through him. He wants to stand up and walk away from this. He’s not sure what he’d hoped to accomplish by seeking TK out, but it’s clear now whatever it was, he isn’t going to get it.

He looks at TK to find a mild curiosity on his face, like Alex’s answer doesn’t really matter to him one way or another.

“We broke up,” he answers anyway, taking a breath to try to soothe the ache before his next words. “I found him in our bed with someone else less than a year after you and I broke up.”

“Well shit,” TK says quietly, letting out a breath of his own. He doesn’t look gloating the way he has a right to look. Instead, he looks at Alex with what can only be called compassion. “Karma didn’t just pay you back. It sucker-punched you in the face, huh?”

Alex lets out a startled laugh at the description. TK joins him with a chuckle of his own, and Alex welcomes it even if it’s at his own expense. They laugh for a few seconds before they let it trail off.

“To answer your question,” TK starts to say. He looks at him, bobbing his head softly. “Yes, I’m happy. I’m the kind of happy where I wake up in the morning, look at my husband sleeping, usually with our kid between us, and I can’t believe just how lucky I am.”

“You love him,” Alex whispers, not really needing an answer when he can see it clearly on his face.

TK answers anyway. “He’s my soulmate,” he says with a smile that isn’t directed at him at all. It’s directed at the man who walked away with two kids in his arms minutes before. “I used to think that was you,” he continues, his voice sounding far away, lost in the past while Alex aches in the present. “I was so sure of it once, and then I met Carlos. I was still a mess about you, and I wasn’t looking to fall in love at all, but there he was, and I fell. I fell so fast, Alex. Years later, I’m still falling in love with him every single day.”

“That sounds – “ Alex starts, exhaling through the dull throbbing in his chest. “Scary, honestly.”

TK smiles, bright and beautiful, just like Alex remembers. “It is,” he says with a short laugh. “It’s terrifying, but it’s also amazing, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.”

Alex nods quietly to himself.

“I’m sorry you haven’t found that yet,” TK continues softly because it seems that surprising Alex is the name of the game today. He gives TK a shocked look that has him giving Alex a compassionate look back. “I never wished you ill will. I was hurt and angry after everything went to hell between us, but in the end, I wanted you to find someone to love the way you couldn’t love me and for that person to love you back just the same.”

Alex swallows hard at TK’s words, feeling overwhelmed by them. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

TK looks away from him, and Alex follows his gaze to find that his husband and the kids are coming back with ice cream in their hands. “Thank you for saying that,” he says softly as he stands. He looks down at Alex, giving him a slight quirk of his mouth. “Goodbye, Alex. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Alex watches TK walk away from him, knowing it will be the last time he’ll see him. “Goodbye, TK,” he whispers at his back, feeling the loss more now than he did four years ago.

֎֎֎

“Dada, we got ice cream!” Luca exclaims happily as he slurps on his spiderman popsicle.

“I can see that. Can I have a taste of spidey?” he questions, leaning in when Luca sweetly offers him his treat. “Mmm, that’s yummy. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Luca smiles up at him, his face already a sticky red and blue mess. He looks at Robbie to see his face is yellow from his Spongebob popsicle. He smiles at them fondly as he turns his backpack to his front, searching for the wet wipes to clean their faces.

“We got you a cone with sprinkles,” Carlos says with a smile, though TK can see the worry in his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

TK looks at his husband, taking in his concern for him along with his ever-present love, and smiles as he remembers what he just told Alex moments ago. The love he and Carlos share is so strong – it can be frightening at times to feel so much and so intensely for another person, but like he told Alex, he wouldn’t change it for the world when it means Carlos loves him back just as strongly.

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, reaching out to touch Carlos’ cheek. “Everything is okay,” he smiles at his husband before looking down at his son and little brother. “Better than okay because we’re going to go see some penguins!”

Luca and Robbie cheer happily.

“Let’s go, Robbie,” Luca says to his uncle, throwing an arm over the other little boy’s shoulder.

TK and Carlos watch them walk a few steps ahead of them, chatting away the way only little kids can.

“You sure you’re alright?” Carlos asks as he hands him a melting ice cream. TK takes it, giving it a few licks to keep it from dripping.

“I swear, babe,” he assures him as he wraps an arm around Carlos’ waist. “We talked, and then we said goodbye.”

“What did he want?” Carlos asks curiously.

TK shrugs. He’ll be honest even after talking to Alex; he’s still not entirely sure what the other man wanted out of the conversation. “I’m not even sure he knows,” he answers after a moment. “He apologized for the past and asked me if I was happy. Maybe he was feeling guilty.”

“What did you tell him?” Carlos questions, a smile playing on his mouth when TK shoots him a look. “What?” he asks innocently, and TK can’t help but chuckle at his fishing.

“I told him,” he starts to say, making sure that he’s holding Carlos’ gaze, as usual falling in love all over again as he gets lost in Carlos’ soulful brown eyes. “That every morning, I wake up amazed I got so lucky to love and be loved by you.”

Carlos pulls him to his side, pressing his face into his neck. “I’m the lucky one, Ty,” he whispers against his skin.

TK smiles at Carlos’ words, his smile growing as Luca shouts for them to keep up; the penguins are waiting. “We both are, my love.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #tk x carlos #outsider POV #my writing

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marvelfansince08love · 4 years ago

Note

Wanda requests you say 👀 How about R comforting Wanda after the Lagos incident

Now I know who this is - Cherru I am sorry my friend x

Sweet Affirmations to you, My dear Wanda

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Gif credit @go-fandom-imagines

“Eleven Wakandan’s were among those killed during a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries in Lagos, Nigeria last month. The traditional Wakandan’s were on an outreach mission in Lagos when the attack occurred-”

The news anchor continues on as you watch with a worried frown, since returning back from the mission in Lagos Wanda had locked herself away in her room only coming out to grab her dinner plate after being coaxed out by Natasha. Her avoidance had hurt you more than you would like to admit but you knew as soon as you limped out of that building and saw Wanda’s expression at seeing your injured self due to her powers, she was utterly devastated. You decide you’ve heard enough as you switch the news off and make your way out of the room and into the hallway, the faint sound of muttered voices echoes from Wanda’s bedroom down the hall as you make a beeline towards the sound.

Leaning against the doorframe you watch her small screen knowing that she had already sensed your presence the moment you left your room down the corridor.

“What legal authority does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have to operate in Nigeria-”

“Mute,” you command, the screen goes quiet as the events that unfolded continue to play silently. Wanda’s gaze never wavers from the TV.

“This wasn’t your fault Wanda, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” you start, knowing that your words are barely reaching her tormented mind as she continues to spiral in her own self hatred.

“Turn the TV back on, their being very specific,“ she mutters, her voice laced with hurt and sadness. Finally her gaze drops from the TV and into her lap as she twists her rings arounds her fingers, a nervous habit that you’ve noticed she does whenever she is struggling to cope with her emotions. Stepping closer you sit next to her on her bed and allow silence to fall upon you both as you wait for Wanda to speak again. Since knowing the witch you’ve come to learn her way of communicating especially when it comes to communicating with you about her troubles, the best way is to allow her to talk first.

“I’m a monster,” she whispers, tears gather in her eyes as she grits her teeth in an attempt to stop herself from sobbing. Leaning your head against her shoulder, you lace your fingers through hers and squeeze in comfort.

“No you aren’t, you were trying to save them. Steve said it himself, he got distracted which caused you to step in and save him. We are only human Wanda,” you explain, keeping your voice soft. She scoffs, shaking her head as she disagrees with your statement.

“But it wasn’t Steve’s powers that caused half the building to crumble, killing people,” her voice weak, her vulnerable green orbs find your comforting gaze. Cupping her cheek you force her to keep her gaze on you.

“What happened was an accident, you are not the only one to blame here.” you reassure, brushing a few stray tears from her cheek. Her eyes close as she leans into your touch seeking the only comfort she needs; from you.

“You were in that building Y/N, I could have lost you,” Finally, you realise where some of her hurt is coming from. Moving from your spot you crouch in front of her, gripping her hands within your own watching her watery gaze fall onto the hands in her lap before you pull her palm up towards your cheek allowing her hands to touch your skin to feel your physical presence.

“I’m still here, Wanda.” your words are like a breaking point for her as she finally sobs openly. You stand and allow her to collapse forward leaning into your stomach as she cries, brushing your fingers through her long hair you shush her gently feeling the witches hands grip your shirt tightly.

“Look at me, Milacik (darling).” you softly instruct, her teary eyes flick up to your face waiting for you to continue. “Come with me,” you grab hold of her hand from behind that still grips your shirt and pull her to her feet.

Gently guiding her to the full length mirror, you place her in front of you watching her gaze at you through the mirror with curiosity. Without a word you move away from her frame to grab a marker pen holding it out in front of her before taking the lid off. Her eyes follow the black ink as you trace letter by letter watching the words form in permanent ink, her head tilts as her chin wobbles fighting another wave of tears. You continue to write upon the mirror making the words frame the outside of her body like a protective barrier, you both remain silent as you continue with your work. Finally, you place the lid back onto the pen and watch her take in the messages on the board, her eyes fall upon three words that are written in line with her heart.

“A Good Person,” she mutters under her breath, her finger tracing the lines of the words. Leaning your chin against her shoulder you smile at her reflection placing your hand against her chest.

“Always a good person,” you whisper. Wanda turns around to face you, her brows furrowed as her expression changes a look of confusion evident.

“I don’t deserve you,” her words saddens your heart but you smile through your heartbreak at her lack of love towards herself.

“We deserve each other, it’s just you and me okay? We’ll get through this together,” you promise, as her forehead leans against your own nodding at your words as she finally allows some of that hatred towards herself and powers to release into the world.

“Are you guys done with the sloppy shit, we wanna come in.” Clint’s voice startles you both from your private moment behind the closed door making you both laugh. With the flick of her wrist Wanda opens her door, revealing the team who all seem to be fighting for a place at the front of the door. Clint walks in first and pulls Wanda close to him followed by Natasha and the rest, you all groan in protest as Thor squeezes just a little bit too tight.

“Alright Buddy, let us go.” you groan, patting the God of thunder on the arm as he sheepishly apologises. The group turn to the mirror to see your work and smile softly at the handy work, except for Tony who jokingly grumbles about washable pens being available instead of ruining his mirrors. Natasha grabs the marker and moves towards the mirror adding in her own kind words about Wanda as the others follow her lead. Pulling Wanda close to your side you kiss her temple and watch them fill her mirror with sweet words.

“Y.N I love-” you cut her words off by kissing her lips gently.

“I know,” you say, the words not needing to be said as your eyes tell her everything she needs to know.

Watching her smile and joke with the team as she points out the different words on the mirror, brings a sense of warmth across your chest. The love you have for her is unmatched to anything you’ve ever experienced before, watching her is like watching a flower blossom in the summer. Her dark past may linger and make her feel wrong and unworthy but with the right love and care shown she can finally see brighter days and just how special she is because of it. Because Wanda Maximoff is no monster, no killer; she’s just a woman trying to fight for her right to live a happy purposeful life.

Permanent tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @natasharomanoffswife

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #cherry request #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #scarlet witch x reader

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beyondthisdarkhouse · 4 years ago

Photo

(woman by Gil Evgreen, second artist unknown)

A hypothesis on why pink became the feminine colour

So like, we’ve all heard about Jo Paoletti’s historical research showing how in America, pink was the recommended colour for baby boys up into the late 1920s, yeah? And that dramatically switched in a short space of time, so by the 1940s and 50s, blue was for boys and pink was thoroughly feminine.

But I’ve never seen an explanation of why this might have happened, and I have an inkling of a theory. It involves jeans and lingerie.

1. Gender is fake

There have always been working-class women who do manual labour. There have always been men in performing arts and fashion. The images in this post represent a small slice of reality, not the reality of gender itself.

This theory is not really that the fashion industry searched the souls of Americans and intuited that men and women just vibed more with certain colours. I think this was about the public narrative of these colours, the way those colours were used in American media and public consciousness from 1920 to 1950.

2. Denim: A Way of Life

Especially before easily-washable synthetic fabrics, it makes absolute sense that the preferred fabrics of manual labourers and skilled trades were very rugged, sturdy fabrics, dyed in colours that were colourfast and wouldn’t show dirt too much. So by the early 19th century, the preferred outfit of America’s working man was denim jeans or overalls and a chambray shirt, dyed blue with indigo. Thus we get the term “blue-collar”. It was also what women wore when they took on heavy industrial labour: When Rosie the Riveter rolled up her sleeve, that sleeve was dark blue chambray.

When World War II ended in 1945, there was a lot of public anxiety about women continuing to do those “masculine” kinds of jobs and competing with men for employment. Media narratives heavily pushed for women to get out of the industrial sector and into the kitchen.

So my theory is: Americans in the 1940s associated blue with industrial work, which was what the people in charge didn’t want women to do. Therefore, for women, it became ix-nay on the ue-blay.

And how convenient! There’s another colour to push on them!

3. Women Are For Looking At, Amirite?

For a couple decades before World War II, there was a subterranean undercurrent in gender and how people think about it, and that is: Underwear. Bare limbs, undergarments, and pictures of scantily clad women became a lot more common in the 1920s and 30s, and Americans became a lot more used to seeing them.

"Feminine”, in Western society, is hugely based around white women. And if a white woman wants to wear underwear under a skimpy outfit, she’s better off picking underwear that doesn’t clash very much with her skintone, which means white, beige, or pink.

Relatedly, if you’re a pinup artist (and this was the pinup era) who isn’t allowed to depict a white woman naked, the next best thing is to make her look naked, which means, dress her in clothing that matches her skin. Ergo: Pink.

So I honestly think pink transmuted over time from the colour of a naked white woman, to the colour of scanty and scandalous lingerie, to the colour of a woman who is very sexually desirable, to the colour of a woman who’s just very feminine, as defined by men of the 1940s.

Conclusion: 2 Fake 2 Gender

So after all those decades of baby boys dressed in pink and baby girls dressed in blue, I think the 1940s and 50s saw a lot of media and public narratives about gender becoming very firm: It was important that there be Man Roles and Women Roles, that we keep the Man Jobs separate from the Woman Jobs, and we be absolutely able to tell the girls from the boys. And, well, pink and blue were the easiest markers to hand.

So the next person who tells me women like pink because of BERRIES ON THE ANCESTRAL SAVANNA can take a long walk off a short pier.

#fashion history #long post #jender

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watchyourbluesturngolden · 4 years ago

Text

matching tattoos

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k (the longest i’ve done in a while whoo 🎉)

"Stevie, I don't think your mom will be too happy with me if I let you do this," Harry said, eying his two year old daughter. She had been asking about it for weeks, but so far he'd been able to distract her before you caught wind of their conversation.

"Pleeeease, daddy?" She pouted, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Why don't we have some cookies instead, love?"

"No."

"Ummm... oh! I know what we can do! Why don't we go in my studio? You can play the piano, or the guitar, maybe sing a song for me..." He trailed off.

"I want to do this! Please?"

Harry's heart melted in three seconds flat. How could he say no to her? He tried, he really did. He opened his mouth to say "no, mommy will really kill me, why don't we do something else?" but one glance at her sweet face left him speechless. He couldn't do it. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Alright, we'll do it... but!" He cut himself off, raising his voice slightly to be heard over her excited cheering. "But! We only have two hours til mommy gets home." She nodded eagerly, bouncing on her feet.

"And if we do this it has to be our secret, mommy can't know. Can you keep this secret?" He said, making a very serious face.

"Yes!" She squealed, giggling.

"Pinky promise?"

She beamed, holding her tiny hand up to his. He wrapped his finger around hers, squeezing for just a second before releasing her.

"Go get the markers then, we have to work fast!"

Stevie screamed in excitement, running as fast as her little legs could carry her. He heard her digging around the art room, probably making a huge mess, before he heard a scraping noise on the wood floor. She was pushing a box of markers that was nearly as big as she was, groaning dramatically.

"It's... too... heavy," she panted. "Please help!"

Harry smiled, leaning down to pick up the box. He scooped her up too, settling them both down on the table.

"Alright, Miss Styles," he said, adapting a posh accent. "This is a proper tattoo parlor, so we shall do this properly, hm?"

She laughed, kicking her feet.

"I want the mermaid!" She said, pointing to the ink on his forearm.

"Patience, Miss Styles," He smiled, wetting a paper towel under the faucet. "First, we have to get your arm ready!"

She held out her arm, tracing her little fingers over his other tattoos as he wiped her wrist with the cloth.

"So, the mermaid, hm? You have excellent taste, Miss Stevie," he joked, throwing the towel back to the sink. "What color?"

"Black, like yours," she said, smiling sweetly.

He felt his heart squeezing as he reached for a black marker. She was so precious. He would do anything, literally anything, to make her happy. He knew it was probably dangerous, how much power this two year old had over him, but he didn't care. He had been in love with her since the day she was born; since the first time he had looked at her.

"We can match, look at that!" He said, beginning to draw on her arm. "Did you know that I love you sooooo much?"

"I love you too, daddy," she giggled. "And that tickles!"

"Oh, it tickles, does it? Should I stop?" He hovered the marker over her skin, glancing at her teasingly.

"No!" She yelled. "I want to match you!"

"Alright then," He said, laughing as he went back to his task. "Why don't we listen to some music?"

"Yeah!"

"What should we listen to?"

"Your song, the fire!"

"The fire?" Harry looked up, confused. "None of my songs have fire in them, bug."

"Yes," she said stubbornly. "And the fish!"

Harry thought for a second before it clicked. "Do you mean Adore You?"

"That one!"

"You're right," He laughed. "That one does talk about fire. I'll get it, yeah?"

He set down the marker, picking up his phone. After a minute, she was dancing in her seat to the drums of Adore You. When the chorus came on, she sang "walk through fire for you" while looking at Harry triumphantly.

"Did you know this song is about mommy?" He said, focusing on his drawing.

"Really?" She asked incredulously, eyes wide.

"Really! It's about how much I love her."

"Yucky," She said, scrunching her nose.

"Yucky? That's not yucky!" he exclaimed. "It's nice!"

Stevie hummed, kicking her feet along with the music.

"It's yucky."

"Stevie, you're hurting my feelings!" He said, gasping and clutching his chest dramatically. "I can't go on," he sighed, throwing his other arm over his forehead. "I'm sorry, daddy," She giggled, reaching up to pull his arm back to her. "Keep going!"

He smiled, adding the finishing touches to her drawing.

"And... there we go! One mermaid, just for you."

She beamed, holding her arm next to his to compare.

"Daddy... your mermaid has no clothes. She needs some."

"How about you draw her a shirt?" Harry laughed, handing her the marker. She furrowed her brow, focusing intently on her task.

"Good job staying in the lines, love!" He said, ignoring the scribbles around the outline. "And you were right, it does tickle."

"I know!" She laughed, giving the marker back.

"What now?"

"The... the heart!" She said, pointing the the small filled in shape on his upper arm.

"Sure, that's an easy one."

He proceeded to give her at least ten more matching "tattoos", including a cross, an anchor, a poorly drawn rose, and the green bay packers logo.

"Daddy!" She gasped. "I have a idea!"

"What's your idea, princess?"

"The butterfly! On my belly!"

"You want a butterfly on your belly?" He asked, lifting his shirt to show her his. "Like this?"

"Yes!" She clapped. "Like that!"

They were having the time of their lives, drawing and singing as loud as they could to all of Harry's songs. He loved watching her face every time he finished drawing. Her eyes would light up and she would pull his arm to hers, showing him how they matched. Every time a new song came on she would squeal and kick her legs because "it's my favorite song!"

They had just finished making silly noises together at the end of "Sunflower" when Harry heard a noise. He froze with the marker on her arm, looking up quickly.

He reached over to pause the music, holding a finger to his lips when she whined at him. He glanced at the clock, hoping he was just imagining things. You weren't supposed to be home for another hour. But no, that was definitely the sound of the front door opening, followed by your voice calling out a greeting.

"Mommy!" Stevie shrieked, launching herself off the table.

"No!" Harry hissed, grabbing her before she could run off. "Stevie, we have to wash this off!"

He scooped her up, running up the stairs to the bathroom.

"Harry?" You called out. That was weird. You could have sworn you heard them in the kitchen. "Stevie?"

"We're- we're upstairs, love!" Harry yelled back. "Just cleaning up!"

Cleaning what? You wondered, but didn't dwell on it for too long. It had rained recently, so they had probably gotten muddy outside.

You made your way to the kitchen with the grocery bags, beginning to put everything away. Then you saw the box of markers. You narrowed your eyes, confused when you realized there was no paper around. What had they been drawing on?

Up in the bathroom, Harry was starting to panic. He had set Stevie up on the counter while he was rubbing at the ink with a washcloth.

"It's not coming off! Why isn't it coming off? The box said washable!"

"No, don't take my mermaid!" She cried, pushing his hands away.

"Stevie, love, I'm sorry, but we can't let mommy see these. Remember? They're secret tattoos."

"Mommy will like them! They're nice," She pouted.

"No, I don't think she will," Harry said, laughing nervously. "Maybe if we..." he grabbed the bottle of soap, dumping some onto the cloth. "There we are! Whew," he sighed in relief. "Good thing that worked, or daddy might have been sleeping on the couch tonight."

Just as he was lifting her off the counter, he heard a knock at the door.

"Harry? What are you doing in there?"

He swung open the door, smiling charmingly.

"Just a little cleanup! We... spilled some yogurt. Right Stevie?"

She nodded, looking up at you innocently.

"Ok... why were there markers all over the table, but no paper to use them on?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Uh... we were going to color, but then... the... yogurt explosion..."

"Oh, I see," you said, still suspicious. "Stevie," you said, kneeling down to be at her eye level. "Is daddy telling the truth?"

Harry held his breath. Stevie was notoriously bad at lying. Usually, Harry was thankful for this, but right now he could do with a little fib.

"Yes mommy, yogurt went everywhere," she said, eyes going wide as she mimicked an explosion with her hands.

You smiled, straightening up.

"Well, I'm glad you got it cleaned up. I'm going to go put the rest of the groceries away."

Harry exhaled as you got to the bottom of the stairs. He quickly lifted Stevie up, spinning her around.

"Thank you, Stevie. You're such a sweetie," He said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She giggled, wiping her face and wiggling in his arms.

"Let's go see what mom bought us!" He said, bouncing her as they ran downstairs.

Harry thought he was in the clear. He really did. He had managed to scrub off all traces of the marker, including the scribbles drawn over his own mermaid. Luckily, Stevie was true to her pinky promise and didn't say a word. She told you about how they played outside and what books they read, but said nothing about the makeshift tattoos. She was good at being sneaky.

By the time Stevie was yawning, Harry really though everything was fine. When you went to change her into her pajamas, he settled into the couch to find a movie.

Everything is fine, he thought. You had no id-

"Harry!" You yelled from down the hall.

He hopped up from his seat, rushing to Stevie's room.

"What is it?"

"Harry," you said, turning towards him slowly. "Why does our daughter have a huge butterfly drawn on her tummy?"

So close.

#harry styles #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader fanfiction #stevie #stevie fics #fluff #fluffy #harry styles x you #harry styles/you fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x reader fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction #dad!harry

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wonder-womans-ex · 4 years ago

Text

‘Cause Boy I was Made for You

By wonder-womans-ex for @inloveoknutzy Sweater Weather secret santa exchange 2020

When Remus Lupin was eleven years old, he learned about soulmates.

“Almost everyone gets a soulmark on their nineteenth birthday,” Mr. Holliday, his fifth-grade teacher, had explained. “A design, like a tattoo, on their left wrist. And out there, somewhere, someone will have a matching one.

“Some people don’t get them until later—no one knows why. Some don’t get them at all. It’s rare, but some people have more than one soulmate, or their soulmate changes.

“Can anyone tell me why this might be?”

Trust a teacher to turn this into a lesson, Remus thought, and put up his hand.

“Because people change, and the person who your soul matches could change, too?”

“Very good, Mr. Lupin.”

***

When Sirius Black was eleven years old, his parents kept him home from school. Instead, they sat him down at the dining room table—which was only ever used for special occasions; he couldn’t fathom why this might be considered one—and told him three things.

“One,” Walburga said, bony fingers and long nails that reminded Sirius of talons drumming on the centuries-old wood, “your career comes first. Always. No matter who your soulmate turns out to be or how you feel about it, you are expected to make the choice that benefits yourself and your role in this family.”

“Two,” Orion put in, “you are the only person who can prove who your soulmate is. If the reality is something that puts your future or your reputation at risk, lying is the best option. Remember, listen to your head, not your wrist.”

“Three—” this was Walburga again, “—your soulmark, when you get it, will remain covered at all times. No one else is permitted to see it. Are we clear?”

Sirius nodded.

“Speak up!”

“Yes, Mother. Yes, Father.”

***

When Remus Lupin was thirteen years old, he had his first kiss. It was with a girl from his first aid course to whom he’d never really talked before, and it was wet and clumsy and didn’t taste very nice. In six years when he got his soulmark, he probably wouldn’t even remember her name.

***

When Sirius Black was thirteen years old, he fell asleep in math class twice. He’d spent the entire night practicing—under his father’s instructions, of course—and the words in the textbook began to swim in front of his eyes.

His mother slapped him across the cheek when she found out. Though he told no one for a very long time, that was when he started drinking coffee.

***

When Remus Lupin was fifteen years old, he googled what if your soulmate doesn’t love you.

***

When Sirius Black was fifteen years old, he found out what it was like to be famous. He enjoyed it, at first. There was so much to enjoy: the attention from his parents, the people who recognized him in public and smiled, and the hockey.

The hockey was everything.

He wouldn’t have thought so, but it was freeing, really, to be on the ice, doing what he loved, and know that the whole world was watching. It showed him he was enough—better than enough. He was the best. He’d been working towards being best his whole life, and now he finally got to feel good about it. What wasn’t to like about that?

Amycus Carrow, apparently. The first guy on his team to notice he was different. “Queer,” he whispered, as Sirius packed his gear up.

Sirius wasn’t sure who he was trying to prove something to by sleeping with Janie Clearwater—Amycus or himself.

***

When Remus Lupin was seventeen years old, he and his mom picked his little brother Julian up from daycare. Jules had a crude drawing of a star on his wrist in green washable marker.

“My teacher has one! So I wanted one too!”

Remus smiled, ruffling Julian’s hair.

That night, he locked his bedroom door and looked up Sirius Black. Video after video of slapshots, passes, interviews, until he finally drifted off to sleep thinking that’s the sort of person I want to be loved by.

***

When Sirius Black was seventeen years old, he had his first panic attack. He wasn’t sure what triggered it; he wasn’t sure how he pulled himself out, but he ran a thumb over the red marks where his fingernails had dug into his skin and tried not to cry.

***

When Remus Lupin was nineteen years old, everything went wrong. He woke up on his birthday to his wrist itching, and it took all his willpower not to look at it. He wasn’t quite ready yet.

It was like Schrödinger’s cat, he reasoned—if he didn’t look, he couldn’t confirm what had been nagging at the back of his head for a while now. He couldn’t deny it, either, but it was better than nothing.

Julian ran to hug him when he got downstairs, grinning to show off his gap-toothed smile. “I got you a present! Wanna know what it is?”

“I think,” Remus told him, “I’m about to find out anyway.”

Two weeks later, Fenrir Greyback approached him in the locker room.

***

When Sirius Black was nineteen years old, he found himself signed to an NHL team he wasn’t supposed to be on and with a soulmark he could make neither head nor tail of: a silver wolf and black dog, intertwined like yin and yang, two crossed hockey sticks behind them. He remembered, distantly, being told that soulmarks were meant to make sense.

The black dog was probably meant to represent him—black dog, dog black (he still hadn’t forgiven his parents for that one)—and the hockey sticks almost definitely had something to do with, well, hockey, but the wolf he had no idea about.

***

It is now that these two stories meet. There is a split second, a fraction of time, and it seems as though the whole world is holding its breath. Will their paths cross, only to continue on their separate ways? Will they travel together for a time, before they are destined to part once more?

“Hello,” says Remus, and when Sirius holds his hand out coldly, their fate is decided.

***

“Pots, c’mere a second!”

Sirius is happy, almost. He’s got the team—he’s one of them, now, really and truly, but there’s something still off. He knows what it is, but he doesn’t want to.

“I’m coming, Captain! Keep your head on!”

James comes to a stop in front of him. “Hi. What do you need?”

“Please poke Dumo.” A few of the guys chuckle, and this makes Sirius smile. He likes making other people laugh.

“What, and you needed me for that? You couldn't do it yourself?”

Finn walks into the room, then, jersey half on. “Why do it at all? What did poor old Dumo do to you, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Pascal says from where he’s sitting by his locker. “Respect your elders!”

“Elder, you say? Edging on retirement, are you?”

“Tais-toi!”

Glancing over to Remus, Sirius allows the barest flicker of a smile to pass over his face. He gets one in return.

“Alright, everyone get moving,” Coach tells them, opening the door and surveying where they’re all arranged, faces like guilty puppies. “You’re paid to play hockey, not sit on your asses and gossip. Practice starts in five minutes, or you run laps around the outside of the rink. In skates.”

Most of them groan, and Kasey downs a Powerade. “Well, boys, that’s my cue.”

James is the next to go, then Finn, then Logan. Leo and Talker continue their argument—something about George Harrison; Sirius isn’t really listening—out onto the ice, and Adam follows them with Olli and Nado close behind. Dumo winks at Sirius before he goes, too, and then it’s just the two of them.

“What did he do?” Remus asks, after Sirius has laced and relaced his left skate three times. “Dumo, I mean.”

“Nothing much. Just… well, if you must know, he put shaving cream in the fridge, once. Guess what I had on my waffles that morning.”

“Waffles aren’t on your diet plan.”

“It was last year.”

“And you waited until now to get James to poke him?”

He knows Remus can see right through him. He always can. “Never question the methods of a hockey player, Loops.”

He meant it as a joke, but Remus stiffens for some reason, jaw clenching and eyes darting away. There’s an awkward pause before Sirius says, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.”

“Right.” He clears his throat, trying in vain to find something else to say. He would be lying if he said Remus didn’t mean something to him—he knows it. But, after all, knowing something and acknowledging it are two very different things.

Sirius runs the laps.

***

That night, after practice, Remus is about to head for the bus station when Sirius steps in front of him. He’s walking backwards, even with his hockey bag slung over his shoulder, and Remus isn’t ashamed to say he’s a little impressed. (From a purely objective point of view, of course. It has nothing to do with Sirius and everything to do with the skill it would take, hypothetically, to do such a thing.) (He’s not fooling anyone, least of all himself.)

“Want a lift?”

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that.”

Remus rolls his eyes; he pretends to think about it. “All right,” he says, finally. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I get to choose the music.”

Sirius lets out one loud ‘ha!’ It’s the most beautiful thing Remus has heard in a long time. (That would go well: “Oh, I’ve changed my mind. No need to put on the radio, I’ll be content if you just keep laughing.”) (There’s a reason people like him are off to the side, out of sight, instead of right in the spotlight with a microphone.)

Remus is glad that Sirius waits until he’s parked outside Remus’s apartment building to bring up their earlier conversation. It says something that they say “So, about this evening—” in unison, but Remus isn’t going to think about that.

“You go first,” Sirius tells him, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “Please.”

“I suppose,” Remus says, slowly, “That I haven’t quite been honest with you. Any of you. I wasn’t always a PT.”

“Of course not. You’re my age. You can’t have always worked for the Lions—before that you were a teenager. A student.”

Remus shakes his head. “No. Before that I was a player.”

“You played? Why’d you stop?”

“Bad hit,” he says, shrugging. “I’m over it. But I… I know what it’s like. The pressure. The rules. So, if you need someone to talk to… just remember—I know what the game does to a guy. You’re not the only one who’s been told to be something you aren’t by someone who forgets you’re a person off the ice, too.

“See you tomorrow, Cap. Thanks for the ride.”

***

Sirius is probably the one person in history who has managed to burn eggs without even turning the stove on.

“How on earth did that happen?” James asks when Sirius phones him.

“I dropped them into the toaster—hey! Stop laughing! It could happen to anyone!”

“Yes,” he hears from the other end of the line, “But it didn’t. It happened to you.”

It takes exactly two minutes and thirty-seven seconds after hanging up on James for Sirius to decide to call Remus. Cooking failures might not have been quite what Remus meant when he said Sirius could talk to him, but it’s the problem at hand right now.

(Remus laughs just as hard as James, but at least he has the decency to apologize for it afterwards.)

“Well,” he says, once he’s calmed down, “What are you going to eat now?”

“I’m not sure. Cereal?”

“Practice is in two and a half hours. You need more than that.”

“I’ll be—”

“If you end that sentence with ‘fine,’ I’ll take the laces out of your skates and strangle you with them. Do you want me to walk you through, I dunno, a pancake?”

“Sure. What do I need?”

“Flour, butter, eggs, milk…”

Twenty minutes later Sirius is left with milk on his shirt, flour in his hair, butter practically everywhere else, and a microwave that won’t start.

“I think,” he tells Remus, “I should have cereal.”

“You are going to eat a pancake if it’s the last thing I do—”

“Why don’t you just come over here and make it for me, then? I’m sure you’ll have more success.”

He holds his breath for a moment, hoping this wasn’t a step too far, before Remus responds. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be over in… half an hour?”

“Sounds good.”

Click.

The instant the call is over, Sirius opens the freezer and grabs one of the popsicles he secretly has stashed there. They’re not part of his diet plan, but he needs one. Then he takes a sponge and starts trying to get the butter out of the sole of his shoe.

***

The first thought that crosses Remus’s mind is that Sirius’s tongue is purple from one of the popsicles he thinks no one knows about. If Remus kissed him, he’d probably taste like grapes. (The thought is banished from his mind the moment it enters.)

“So,” he says, surveying the damage. “I am going to teach you how to make a pancake.”

Sirius, it turns out, is infinitely better at following instructions when they’re simple, and the two of them work out a system quickly. Remus makes the pancake, Sirius gets the ingredients. It works.

“That’s salt, not sugar. Try again.”

(Most of the time, at least.)

“Really?” Sirius is squinting at the package. “Why doesn’t it say so?”

“It does. Right there.”

“How am I supposed to read that?”

“You need glasses, Cap.”

“I have glasses. I just never wear them.”

“What?” This is news to Remus. Visions of Sirius with glasses and bed hair are swimming in front of his eyes. “Why?”

A shrug. “I look stupid.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d be drop-dead gorgeous in anything.”

There’s a beat of silence. Remus realizes that, yes, he said that out loud. “I mean, all those fangirls certainly seem to think so.”

“Right. Yeah.” Sirius clears his throat.

“Anyway, pancakes! I think these are almost ready to cook—can you turn on the element?”

“The what now?”

“The element? The coil on the stove?”

“Should’ve just said that in the first place,” Sirius grumbles. “Fucking Americans.”

“Fucking French.”

Suddenly, Remus has a spatula pointed at his nose. He has to cross his eyes to see it properly. “Say that again; I dare you.”

“Fucking French?”

“Awright, that’s it! En garde, bitch!”

And so begins the great whisk-vs-spatula duel of 2020. There is very little batter left once they’re done—in the bowl, at least. Most of it is on their clothes.

They look at each other. “Cereal?”

“...Cereal.”

***

Kasey’s eyes go wide—almost comically so—when they show up to practice together.

“Cap giving rides?” He says, and Sirius isn’t sure what accent he’s trying to fake but he ends up sounding like a scandalized duchess from the movie adaptation of an Austen knockoff. (Maybe that is what he was going for. It’s hard to know, with Kasey.) “I thought the day would never come.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Remus’s elbow digs into Sirius’s rib cage. “You don’t want to say that. He tried to make me shut up this morning—it’s something I’ll never recover from.”

Sirius almost laughs at the expression Remus makes when he realizes exactly how that sounds.

“He dumped pancake batter down my shirt!”

“You didn’t!” The look on James’s face is aghast. “First the eggs, now this—what will people think?”

Finn looks up from his phone. “Eggs?”

“Sirius here dropped the eggs he was going to eat for breakfast into his—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Dumo slings an arm around his shoulders. “The price you must pay for telling James to poke me yesterday. Learn from this, mon fils. Learn.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

“Treachery!”

Shrugging him off, Sirius grins. “I am the kitchen monster. Cross me and I will slaughter you in a food war.”

“Try me.” This is Logan speaking; Sirius hadn’t even realized he was there.

“You’ve been warned!”

***

“Look, there are twenty-two hockey players in this arena, and I ain’t one of them,” Moody says, and Remus can’t be sure, but he thinks Sirius looks at him.

***

“You’re favouring your right leg,” Remus comments as soon as Sirius is off the ice. “Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine, really—”

“I’ll try again. Want me to take a look?”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Loops.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

They walk into the PT room in businesslike silence, Sirius hoping all the way that one of them will break it. Neither does, and it isn’t until Remus has taken off both his skates for him, now expertly examining his left ankle, that he realizes what he should say.

“You mentioned you played, last night.”

The finger tracing his Achilles tendon stills. “I did.”

“Were you any good?” He knows, somewhere, that he’s entering forbidden territory. He can’t bring himself to care.

“I’d like to believe so.”

“Be honest.” Sirens are blaring in his head. He keeps going.

“There were rumours…” Remus bites his lip, glances away. “People said I was set for first.”

“What? How come you never said anything? C’mon, you need to play with us sometime, just scrimmage or something—”

“Maybe. That hit…”

“Right. God, I’m sorry, Rem.”

If Remus’s Adam’s apple bobs at the nickname, Sirius doesn’t notice. He certainly doesn’t try his best not to jump to conclusions. (Double negative; that’s a yes, a voice that sounds suspiciously like James’s says in his head. Shut up, he tells it.)

“It’s fine. Really. I just don’t like talking about it. And besides, I like this. Working with the team, even if I can’t be a part of it.”

“You are. A part of the team, I mean. Just as much as I am.”

“Sure.”

There’s another awkward pause before Remus clears his throat. “So, I’m gonna put on some anti-inflammatory gel because it’s a little swollen, but don’t get used to it. I want you to keep doing some stretches, not too much pressure. Capeesh?”

“What the fuck is a capeesh?”

“Just say it.”

“...Capeesh?”

“Awesome.”

Remus leans forward towards him, their foreheads almost touching. Sirius’s breath catches.

It’s over just as suddenly. The tube of extra-strength Voltaren is in Remus’s hand, and Sirius feels stupid for thinking he was going to—

Nope. Not thinking about that.

When he feels tears start to prick at his eyes, he glances up at the fluorescent lights overhead; at least then he’ll have an excuse. There’s a moth resting on one. Its wings flutter once, twice, then go still. Fragile things, moths are—maybe it’s died, maybe it hasn’t. He could read into that, but he won’t.

He jumps when the cool of the gel on Remus’s hands touches his foot. “Hey!” He yelps, looking quickly down.

Sirius hates to succumb to cliches, but he would be lying if he was to say his heart doesn’t still.

Because Remus has pulled the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows, and his wrist is turned to the sky—to Sirius, who has seen that mark before somewhere.

Somewhere. He’s kidding himself. He’s seen it every day whenever he bothers to look at his own soulmark, and he’s seeing it again now.

“You know what, I’m fine,” he blurts out, shaking his ankle out of Remus’s grasp. “Thanks, though. See you later, Loops.”

***

Remus stays there for a second, watching Sirius leave. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, and he’s not sure he wants to.

When he gets up to leave, tossing the container towards the first aid kit on the bench and allowing himself a small smile when it lands perfectly inside, blood rushes to his head. He closes his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And then he crashes into Finn.

“Whoa, sorry,” Remus says, stumbling backwards.

“Nah, don’t stress it. There’s just something I want you to check on.”

Remus is hit by a sense of deja vu. He wonders if Finn, too, is going to leave without explanation. He follows him back into the PT room, Finn gesturing for him to lock the door.

Though he may be the shorter of the two, Remus knows it’s his job to be the bigger person. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Finn waits another moment before yanking one sleeve up to reveal three paw prints, each no bigger than a thumbnail, clustered together—one forest green, one golden, and one a deep navy blue.

“Your soulmark.” Remus doesn’t understand. “What? Is something wrong?”

“There’s three of them,” Finn says. “Which means there’s three of us.”

“You have two soulmates?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, Finn. It may not be common, but it’s not unheard of. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

“It’s not that. It’s… hey, you can’t tell anyone this, okay?”

“I know. Doctor-patient confidentiality, remember?”

“Right.” Finn takes a breath, squeezing his eyes closed. “What if I told you I know who they are? Or I think I do?”

“Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically.”

“Well, I’d ask you if they knew.”

“And I’d say I don’t think so. One of them’s pretty stubborn—wouldn’t see love if it stood up on the ice and sang the national anthem—and the other isn’t nineteen yet, so he doesn’t—I mean wouldn’t—have his mark yet.”

“His?”

Finn’s eyes widen. There is a pause before he nods, slowly. “Yeah. Got a problem?”

“Trust me, I’m the last person on earth who’d have a problem with something like that. Hypothetically.”

This, at least, earns Remus a smile. “Are you…?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Another pause. “What if I told you, still hypothetically, that they were both on the team?”

“Then I’d say get the fuck out of here and win them over before they start thinking you’ve forgotten about them.”

Finn, smiling ear to ear, starts to leave. “Wait,” he says, hand on the doorknob. “You said you were…”

“Gay.”

“Yeah. Do—do you know who your soulmate is?”

Remus opens his mouth to say ‘no.’ He really does. But what comes out—when he takes into account the look of recognition on Sirius’s face when Remus had his sleeves rolled up; the understanding that had passed between them outside Remus’s building (god, that was just last night); the way they’ve always just clicked—is most certainly not ‘no.’

“Oh, fuck, I think I do,” he says, and he and Finn run out into the hallway together.

Sirius’s car is pulling out of the parking lot when Remus arrives, out of breath, at the front doors of the arena.

“I don’t know why he’s in such a hurry.” Remus jumps. He hadn’t heard James come to stand beside him. “Just packed up his gear at the speed of light and left. Didn’t even shower; he said he’d do it at home.”

So Sirius had been so appalled—disgusted, even—at Remus being his soulmate that he’d left without explanation, with barely even a goodbye. There was a pleasant thought.

He turns so his back is against the door, sliding slowly down to sit on the floor.

“Y’know,” James says, sitting next to him, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you needed a hug.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence before Remus says, “James?”

“Yeah?”

“I need a hug.”

James gives the best hugs. Everyone says so. But until now, Remus has never been on the receiving end of a true James Potter hug—warm, strong, and friendly as hell. (“I want that on a t-shirt,” James says when Remus tells him so.)

But eventually, James has to go, too, and Remus heads back to the PT room. He passes Logan in the hall, looking like he’s been hit over the head with a two-by-four. Maybe it’s Finn’s doing; he had mentioned that one of them was oblivious. Logan, Remus knows, is the definition of oblivious.

***

“And I think that’s all,” Coach Weasley says, glancing around, “Unless anyone else has something to say? Moody? Cap? Loops?”

“Actually, yes,” says Remus after a moment. “Checkups! Not naming names but Kris lied about his rib acting up so now all of you get to be interrogated.”

Sirius swallows. He’s not anxious to be alone with Remus; not after yesterday. There’s no way there aren’t going to be questions.

Kasey goes first, Remus taking just under five minutes to deem him ‘good to go.’ Kris, surprisingly, is only kept for eight, despite the claim of his ribs acting up again. Finn takes the longest—fifteen minutes—and as soon as he’s out he grabs Logan and Leo by the wrists and marches them off somewhere. Sirius’s turn comes last, right after Pascal’s, who gives him a knowing look as he enters.

“Hi,” Remus says, first aid kit nowhere in sight. “Sit down.”

“Where?” Sirius gets only a shrug in response.

He hesitates a moment, then sits on the floor, picking at the sole of his sneaker.

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks suddenly.

“Fine. Ankle’s not bothering me any more.”

“No, I mean how are you feeling?”

Scoffing, he starts to stand up. “I’m not doing this.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Sirius Black, sit your ass back down before I make you.”

Sirius sits his ass back down.

“Good. Now, how are you feeling?”

“I’m… confused,” he says, trying to be honest without being specific. “And nervous. And I cried myself to sleep last night, which I haven’t done since I was like seventeen, so there’s that. But mostly I’m just really fucking mad.”

“At me.” It isn’t a question.

“No, not at you! At me! At the—” he gestures wildly. “—Universe, or whatever. Can I go now?”

Remus doesn’t even acknowledge his request. “So you’re disappointed.”

“...Yeah.”

“May I ask why?”

“I’m pretty sure you fucking know why.”

“Maybe I do. But I’d like you to explain it to me.”

The stupid thing is that Sirius wants to talk about it. He really does. And Remus is the only person he can conceivably talk about it to. But he still chokes on his words when he says, anger burning his throat, “It was never supposed to be like this.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Sirius practically screams. “Stop trying to fucking— psychoalalyze me or something, for fuck’s sake. You fucking asked, and I—” He tears his fingers through his hair, feeling his chest start to constrict. “Just stop talking!”

The echoes of his shouts fade out too quickly, and the only thing worse than the voices is the sound of his breathing getting faster and faster. Remus’s hand twitches, as though he wants to touch him but thinks better of it.

“It was always supposed to be someone different. Someone faceless; nameless. Someone I could run away from. I can’t fucking run away from you, Remus.

“I always thought I could lie. That I could—pretend, or something. Just keep hiding. It was supposed to be someone I could hide from, because I’ve spent my whole life fucking hiding and that’s all I know how to do. It was never supposed to be someone I could fall in love with.”

There’s a choked noise from where Remus is sitting on the bench, but nothing else. Sirius refuses to look at him.

“And I just—I just fucking hate this, because all I’ve been told is that hockey comes before my dreams. And that’s made sense until now because until now hockey was my dream, but now there’s you. Yeah.”

Remus, to his credit, waits until Sirius’s breathing has calmed down and he’s furiously wiped the tears from his eyes to speak. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean forget everything. Forget your family, forget the team, forget me—what do you need?

“Right now? For the rest of my life? Because those are two very different things.”

“Let’s start with now. Can I do anything for you? Can you do anything for yourself?”

“I need a hot chocolate.”

***

They wait until everyone else has gone, and then make their way outside to Sirius’s car. There’s only one other in the parking lot—a grey Toyota Remus thinks belongs to Nado, or maybe Kris. He’s not sure why he thinks it matters, because it doesn’t.

Silence hangs around them the whole four blocks to the nearest Tim Horton’s. Inhale; exhale. Inhale; exhale. This doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

That doesn’t stop Remus from hoping.

He knows it’s wrong; of course he does. It’s Sirius’s choice, in the end, because Sirius is the one who will be most affected. His career, his life—all on the line if he decides to trust whatever plan the world has in store for them. It’s not like that for Remus. Not anymore.

There’s a parking spot right outside the front door. Sirius pulls into it, but he doesn’t get out right away. He glances around, makes sure there’s no one immediately in sight, and then he looks down to where his hands now rest in in his lap. Slowly, he pulls up his right sleeve to expose, bit by bit, his soulmark.

“I don’t know why I never guessed it could be you—Wolfy McWolf Wolf.”

Remus feels his lips twitch upwards into something resembling a smile. “I could say the same, Dog Black.”

When he puts his hand on the console, Sirius rests his on top of it. It’s not much.

But it’s something.

***

Sirius looks longingly at the Boston cream doughnuts. “Please. I haven’t had one in so long.”

“Think again, Mr. I’m-on-a-diet-plan.”

He’s not surprised. What was he thinking, having his PT as his soulmate? (Well, he wasn’t. He didn’t get to choose. But, he thinks to himself, the point still stands.)

“I’ll have a medium hot chocolate, please, a plain toasted bagel,” Remus looks at him and sighs. “...And a Boston cream doughnut.”

When the food is set down on the pickup counter, Remus snatches it before Sirius has a chance to. “Hey, this is my doughnut.”

Sirius pouts.

“You’re cute. Here.” He tosses him the brown paper bag, and Sirius removes his prize carefully. He‘s going to eat every piece of chocolate glazing if it kills him.

Back out in the car—this is a conversation neither of them is willing to have in the public dining area—Remus chews on his bagel thoughtfully. Sirius tries and fails not to swear when his hot chocolate burns his tongue.

“Shit!”

Remus glances over at him. Their eyes meet for a moment, then both look away. “So,” Sirius says after a while. “I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah.”

Silence, then—

“You go first,” they say at the same time, and laugh. Some of the tension is broken.

Sirius reaches hesitantly to where Remus’s arm rests between the seats. He doesn’t need to voice his question—Remus sees it in his eyes; nods.

Up close, he can see that there are a few differences between their marks. Nothing that could possibly mean they aren’t soulmates—just the discolouring on the dog’s tail; the angle of one of the sticks; the faded white gash that stretches from one side of Remus’s wrist to the other, separating the wolf’s head from its body. Sirius doesn’t quite know what he’s doing when he presses his lips to the scar.

When he looks up, he sees that Remus is trying not to cry. And that’s when he makes his decision.

“I want this,” he says, voice soft but sure. “All of it.”

#sweater weather lumosinlove #coops #soulmate au #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #sweater weather secret santa #tw: panic attack

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fantastic-bby · 5 years ago

Text

Drawings

Pairing: (F)Reader x Youngjae

Word count: 6.8k

Genre: Romance, soulmate AU!, kinda fluffy, Non-Idol!Youngjae, Art Major!Reader

Summary: Youngjae has lived his whole life communication with his soulmate through writing on his own skin. His soulmate, on the other hand, enjoys leaving sketches or drawings on her own skin whenever she’s bored. It’s only when their both working adults that they realise how helpful her drawings were...

Soulmate series: Jaebeom - Strings || Mark - Inked || Jackson - Bubbles || Jinyoung - Masked || BamBam - Footprints || Yugyeom - Pieces

Masterlist

He looked at the drawing of the cat on his arm, a giggle leaving his lips when he saw the tail starting to form. Youngjae thought it would be nice if he drew something back to the mysterious artist behind the drawing and snuck into his mum’s room, quietly stealing a sharpie from her desk before scurrying out.

Youngjae sat himself at the coffee table and quickly drew a dog beside the cat with the word ‘friend?’ underneath it. He waited excitedly for a response and was ecstatic when he saw ‘friend!’ appear underneath the cat. He drew a shark above the dog, watching as the mysterious artist drew a dolphin beside his shark.

Youngjae spent the next hour or so drawing with his newfound friend, animals quickly covering his arm and hand. He bit his lip as he admired the drawings that covered his arm. ‘Your drawings are cute!’ He scribbled onto his wrist. ‘Thank you!’ The response appeared at the spot right below his compliment.

“Youngjae-ah, come help mummy with dinner.” His mum called as she walked into the living room, her eyes quickly widening when she saw the drawings that scattered his arm.

“Mummy! I have a new friend!” Youngjae excitedly held his arm up to show her the drawings. She stared at him with her mouth agape as she tried to process it before letting out a soft chuckle and disappeared into her bedroom.

“Youngjae-ah, why did you use a sharpie? It’ll be difficult to wash off.” She smiled as she returned with a washcloth in hand, crouching down to inspect his drawings. “Do you know their name?” She asked as she gingerly inspected all of the animals. Youngjae shook his head in response. “One day, you’ll find out their name, and you’ll be able to meet them.” She explained as she gently wiped his arm.

“I’ll be able to meet them?” Youngjae’s face lit up with excitement. His mum nodded,

“They’ll be the only person in the world who will make you feel certain things. You’ll love to be around them and they’ll make you laugh harder than you ever have before.” She hummed out as she watched the drawings starting to fade slightly. Key word: slightly. Due to the fact that Youngjae had used a sharpie, these drawings wouldn’t disappear as easily.

“Who are they?” He questioned as he watched her clean his arm as best as she could.

“Your soulmate.”

»»————-　　————-««

Youngjae woke up to the sound of his alarm blaring, his face immediately contorting in annoyance. He slapped his hand onto his alarm clock and turned his alarm off before groggily sitting up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand as he looked around his dark room.

He forced himself out of bed and dragged himself into the bathroom to start getting ready for school. He stood in front of the mirror, his hair wet from his shower as he brushed his teeth. He felt a tickle on his arm and he looked down to see a message from his soulmate.

Are you up?

He felt his spirits immediately lift and he quickly rinsed his mouth, scrambling out of his room to find a washable marker.

Yeah, I am

He wrote the response underneath the message and smiled as he sat at the edge of his bed, not bothered by the fact that his hair was still wet, water sliding down his hair and dripping onto his bed. He was too focused on his conversation with his soulmate.

Have you showered?

Youngjae watched as the question formed on his skin, the smile never leaving his face.

Just got out. I have to get dressed for school :(

He sat disappointed when a response didn’t come even after five minutes and he let out a sigh, finally deciding to just dry off his hair and finish getting ready for school.

“Youngjae-ah, don’t forget your lunch.” His mum reminded him when she saw him walking down the stairs, a paper bag in her hands. Youngjae smiled as he took the bag from her graciously,

“Thanks, mum.” He hummed out as he opened the bag to look inside.

“We had leftover chicken from last night, so I made kimchi fried rice to go with it.” She spoke as she wiped down the dinner table. “Have fun at school and don’t spend too much time drawing on your arm.” She playfully warned as he quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek before leaving the house, waving as he bid her goodbye.

Youngjae stepped through the gate of his house and made his way to his school. The tingle in his hand made him stop in his tracks and lift the sleeve to his blazer to see a long awaited response from his soulmate.

Sorry, my mum forced me to get ready :(

He quickly pulled the pen from the pocket of his blazer and wrote down a reply as he started walking slowly.

It’s okay! I’m actually on the way to school now.

He quickly scribbled the response, trying not to trip on his feet while he was walking. He caught himself smiling like an idiot whenever he was writing to his soulmate; which he was doing right now.

Youngjae sat at the bus stop and continued his messy conversation, watching as responses and questions started to scribble themselves onto his arm.

Have you eaten breakfast?

Are you paying attention to your arm or the street? >:c

Please don't trip

Youngjae bit his lip to stop himself from smiling any further. He felt like he had a genuine connection with this person even though he has yet to meet them. He really wanted to meet them.

He climbed onto the bus, lucky enough that there was one empty seat left. He sat down and quickly got back to his arm.

How do you get to school?

Youngjae questioned his soulmate, the bumpiness of the bus making it difficult to write clean sentences.

It's not far from my house, so I walk.

The answer scribbled itself into his arm. Youngjae was about to think of another response when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up to his side to see the elderly woman sitting beside him kindly smiling at him.

"I remember when I used to do that with my husband." She chuckled when she realised she had accidentally caught his attention.

"Oh," Youngjae looked back down on his arm to see that he had almost covered his entire arm in writing. "I still haven't met them yet, so this is the only way we can communicate." He politely told the woman.

"When I was a child, my mother used to scold me whenever I wrote on my arm. But I didn't mind because I got to talk to my soulmate." She let out a content sigh as she spoke to him. "Hold onto your soulmate, boy. No one else will be able to understand you as well as your soulmate."

Her advice made Youngjae's eyes widen momentarily as he was a bit taken aback by her words. He struggled to find a response and decided to just politely thank the woman before turning his attention back to his arm.

Have you reached school?

Youngjae wrote on one of the last few empty spots on his left arm.

I just got to class. I'll have to wash these off soon :(

Their response made him frown, but his spirits lifted when he realised he would have space for more conversation with them.

It’s okay, we can fill our arms up again soon! :D

He stopped receiving responses just as the bus stopped at his stop, the responses from his soulmate slowly melting away as if they were being washed. Youngjae took this as his cue to quickly climb off the bus and walk his way into the school building, a few of his schoolmates climbing off as well.

Youngjae lifted the sleeve of his blazer to see if there were any new messages, but to his dismay, there were none. He stepped into his class, sitting at his desk beside his very quiet desk mate and stared at the board as he waited for class to start.

Halfway through the day, he felt a tingle on the back of his hand. He looked down and was surprised that the tingle was not from a sentence; it was a drawing of bones. His eyes widened as he watched the drawing of a skeleton hand slowly form on the back of his hand, the drawing becoming more and more detailed the further his soulmate went.

By the time the class ended, there was a detailed skeleton drawing on the back of his hand that left him in awe. He quickly pulled his pen out of his pencil box and wrote a message on his inner wrist,

Woah! What got you so bored?

He meant it to be a joke. No one would spend the whole class drawing a skeleton hand on themselves when they weren’t bored.

Algebra :/

His soulmate responded under his question.

I’ve always wanted to tell you my name, but every time I write my name down, the ink disappears :c

Youngjae bit his lip as he stared at the message. He never actually tried writing his name down to his mystery friend; now would be the time to try. He wrote his full name down, he gasped and moved back as he watched the ink fade away into nothingness.

Wow, I never realised that. That’s crazy

He quickly replied to his soulmate.

“Youngjae, are you not going for lunch?” His teacher asked when he saw Youngjae sitting at his desk. Youngjae looked up to look at his teacher before turning around to realise he was the only student still sitting in the class.

“Uh, I am. Thank you, sir.” He stood up from his seat and gave his teacher a bow before leaving the classroom. He looked down at his hand, seeing his soulmate starting to tell him about how boring their maths class was.

I’m so bad at this, I just want to drop maths ㅠㅠ

Youngjae chuckled when he read the message, his attention solely to his arm. He wanted to be there with his soulmate, holding them and helping them throughout class to make sure they were okay. He wanted to hug them. He wanted to be with them. He wanted his soulmate.

»»————-　　————-««

Youngjae stepped into the lecture hall that was already mostly full. Most of the students didn’t bother looking up when they heard the door open but the one that did immediately waved him over. Youngjae smiled when he saw his classmate and quickly made his way over to the seat he was sitting at.

“Where were you? I went back to our dorm and you weren’t there.” Jaebeom pointed out when Youngjae took the seat beside him.

“I was hungry so I went to the vending machine.” Youngjae shrugged as he offered the bag of half eaten chips to his friend.

“No thanks.” He shook his head, “I had a heavy lunch.” He leaned back in his chair and raised his arms above his head to stretch. Youngjae had met Jaebeom when he started college.

The two were taking different courses in the same field and ended up being roommates. While Jaebeom was majoring in film studies, he still had a few classes that would be combined with the performing arts majors; meaning Youngjae would have a few classes with his roommate.

Their shared classes were one of the main factors that brought them together. Before, they were just roommates that would wave whenever they would see each other. Over time, they became closer whenever they needed help with their classes and turned to each other.

“Youngjae, your arm.” Jaebeom pointed out. Youngjae looked down at where his older friend was pointing at and a smile crept onto his face when he saw a set of flowers starting to appear near his elbow. He leaned back into his chair as he watched the drawing grow. “Your soulmate’s quite the artist, huh?” Jaebeom pointed out as he leaned closer to see the flowers more clearly.

“They are. Ever since we were in high school, they would draw on their hands whenever they were bored. They told me they’re an art major now.” Youngjae gushed. He absolutely admired his soulmate’s art. He would always see it appear on his skin whenever he knew they were most likely bored or just wanted to show him something.

"They're really talented. I can't even draw a stickman properly." He joked as he saw how detailed the flowers were becoming.

"They only use pens when they're drawing on themselves and sometimes they use coloured pens. Look!" He practically shoved his arm into Jaebeom's face when orange started to fill into the petals. "It's so pretty!" He squealed excitedly.

"Woah," Jaebeom's eyes widened when he saw the tiniest of details being filled in with what they could only assume was an actual detail pen. "They really pay attention to detail."

"How could they not? They're an art major." Youngjae proudly said, grinning from ear to ear. The professor walked into the classroom but Jaebeom knew that whenever Youngjae had started a conversation with his soulmate, it wouldn't stop anytime soon.

As expected, Youngjae paid barely any attention to the lesson as he started to talk with his soulmate. Of course, they scolded him for not paying attention, but they soon got caught up with their daily talks as well. It was only when their class was dismissed that Youngjae realised he hadn’t paid attention at all and turned to Jaebeom with pleading eyes.

“Okay, only because your soulmate’s really good at art.” Jaebeom rolled his eyes playfully as they left the class, Jaebeom promising to share his notes with Youngjae. “What did you guys talk about this time?” He asked as they walked side-by-side in the hallways of their university.

“They’re gonna become an art teacher when they’re done with college.” Youngjae hummed out as he looked at the conversation that scribbled his arm.

“Well, they have the skills for it.” Jaebeom pointed out when he saw a new drawing on the back of his hand. A tingle made Jaebeom lift his hand up to look at it, “I gotta go. Mark wants to meet up.” He turned to Youngjae who nodded,

“How are you guys?” He asked as they stopped at the entrance to the performing building.

“Like how you’d expect best friend soulmates would be. I can never stay angry at that guy and it’s weird because he does the dumbest things sometimes.” He snorted as he patted Youngjae’s back and the two parted their ways. Youngjae, on the other hand, didn’t have any other classes for the day and decided to get back to his dorm to finish a few assignments.

Need any help with anything?

His soulmate’s question appeared on his right hand, the writing messy.

Why are you writing with your left hand?

Youngjae questioned them as he sat at his desk and slumped his backpack onto the ground beside him.

Running out of space on the left. Thought I’d try this instead.

He let out a laugh when he read that.

Maybe try writing on your foot so I can understand your handwriting properly :|

>:( Do you not like my handwriting?? >:(((

When you write with your left hand, it’s hard to understand ㅠㅠ

How about I don’t write to you at all? >:(

NO WAIT I’M SORRY

That’s what I thought ;)

Youngjae let out another laugh, louder than the one before.

I have to go, I have class :c

His shoulders immediately slumped forward. He didn’t want them to go. He wanted to talk with them more, but when he saw the sticky notes on his wall that were reminding him about his assignments, he knew it was good that they had class.

Youngjae pulled his notes and laptop out of his bag, and finally began his assignments.

»»————-　　————-««

“Are you excited?” Jaebeom asked, barely able to contain his own nerves as his knee was bouncing so fast, Youngjae was sure his leg would be able to run off on its own.

“Of course I am. We’re finally graduating.” He nodded nervously, turning down to his hand to see a message his soulmate had written for him.

I’m so proud that you’re finally graduating! You worked so hard, I know you did! <3

Youngjae felt his heart flutter when he read it. He had spent years working so hard and he was finally graduating. He knew his soulmate was proud, he could feel it. They had been there for him throughout all those years of blood, sweat and tears, and he felt like he honestly couldn’t have done it without them. He lifted the sleeve of his graduation robe when he felt the tingle move higher up his arm.

Don't forget me when you're famous >:((

His soulmate jokes. He let out a nervous chuckle when he read that. He didn't have any pens around him to reply and he felt like even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to think of a response from how nervous his graduation was making him. The anxious students watched as their chancellor stood on stage to give his speech as well as hand out the graduation scrolls, names being called one-by-one.

Youngjae and Jaebeom grew even more anxious when the creative arts department head was called onto stage to hand out the scrolls.

“Dude, what if I trip?” Jaebeom turned to Youngjae with his brown eyes filled with panic.

“You won’t trip. If you do, improvise.” Youngjae shrugged, raising his hand to give his roommate a reassuring pat on the back.

“Improvise?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, hyung. Just… B-Boy, or something.” His shoulders raise to give him another shrug, “Spin around on your arm, do the worm, crawl on the ground like you’re from The Exorcist.” Jaebeom stared at him with his mouth agape and eyes holding so much disbelief and betrayal.

“You’re supposed to help me, dude.” He grumbled as he turned back to the stage.

“Graduating with a degree in Film: Im Jaebeom.” The chancellor announced. Jaebeom stood up from his chair and Youngjae watched as he shakily made his way up the stage.

“Please, don’t trip. Please, don’t trip. Please.” Youngjae chanted softly as he watched his friend. He let out a breath of relief when Jaebeom managed to receive his scroll, stop to take pictures and safely walked off of the stage without completely embarrassing himself in front of the entire hall.

Jaebeom returned to his seat, letting out a long breath of relief.

“Dude! I graduated!” He excitedly turned to Youngjae and showed him the scroll that held his graduation certificate. Youngjae shared his excitement, watching as a sentence wrote itself onto Jaebeom’s wrist. He turned his attention down and read it out loud, “‘Proud of you, bro. Look behind you.’” The two turned around to see Mark waving from his seat a few rows back.

Mark graduated a year before but came back to the university to watch his best friend graduate. His face was beaming with pride as he gave Jaebeom a thumbs up and punched his fist up into the air. Youngjae watched as he did before looking down at his own wrist.

I wish I could be with you

His heart ached. He wanted his own soulmate to be there with him. He knew very well that this wasn’t the type of soulmate Mark was to Jaebeom. This soulmate held his heart in their hands, and he hates that they couldn’t watch him graduate. He also hates that he couldn’t be with them when they would graduate.

“Graduating with a degree in Performing Arts: Choi Youngjae!” The chancellor announced. Youngjae made his way over to the stage, heart pounding, knees shaking and his palms sweating so profusely, he could’ve filled a pool. He stood in front of the creative arts head who bowed when he did and handed him the scroll,

“Congratulations, Youngjae.” The professor smiled, letting the photographers and Youngjae’s family take pictures before he walked off the stage. His heart was still pounding in his chest when he made his way back over to his seat. He stared blankly ahead for a moment before it hit him.

“Oh my god, I graduated!” He snapped his head over to Jaebeom with the widest smile on his face.

“Yeah! Youngjae, we’re graduated!” Jaebeom shared the excitement, the two looking like a pair of dogs that heard the word ‘walk’.

“Congratulations, you two!” Mark’s voice spoke up from beside Youngjae. They both turned to the older man and high fived him.

“Mark hyung, we’re graduated!” Jaebeom excitedly repeated.

“I know! It’s exhilarating going up there, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “When the ceremony is over, let me buy you two dinner.” He offered. Youngjae looked down at his hand, seeing another message scribbled by his soulmate.

Congratulations! Now that you’re graduated, you don’t have to cry all the time anymore ;) I’m joking. In all seriousness, I’m devastated that I can’t be with you, but I am so proud that you pushed through all of those hard nights. I know how hard you worked, I know how much you want to become a vocal coach, and I’m so glad that you’re one step closer to your dream!! <3

His heart melted, but it had also never ached so much. Youngjae wondered how much longer it would be before the two could finally cross paths and be with each other. He wondered how many more days he had to wait before he could finally hold them in his arms.

»»————-　　————-««

“Okay, class. Open up your textbooks.” Youngjae ordered, his voice echoing off of the walls of the lecture hall. He watched as the students opened up their books obediently. “Now, throw that shit out.” The students snapped their heads up in surprise, all of their attention on him. “What do you use when you sing?” He questioned. All of their hands raised into the sky and he pointed at a random student.

“Your voice.” The girl muttered out.

“Correct.” He nodded and turned to the whiteboard, “You don’t learn from books. If you want to sing, you have to learn through experience. Not a book,” He lifted the textbook that was on his desk, waving it around, “Especially not a book this thick.” He snorted as he put it back on his desk.

Youngjae sat himself on the edge of his table and looked at his class, “So, who wants to hear a song I wrote about my dog, Coco?”

»»————-　　————-««

“Youngjae,” A knock on the door to the lecture hall followed by the voice made Youngjae turn around to see Jaebeom peeking his head into the empty hall, a cheeky smile on his face.

“JB hyung? What are you doing here?” Youngjae asked as he picked up the rest of his stuff and made his way over to the door.

“I thought I’d pay you a visit. I haven’t properly seen you since you started working here.” He shrugged and moved aside to let Youngjae step out of the hall.

"You're just in time. This was my last class for today , so we can hang out for a bit before I have to start marking assignments." The two of them walked down the hallway, suddenly being hit with a wave of nostalgia. "This feels like every time we had class together." Youngjae chuckles, missing the times before when the two of them were studying.

"Yeah, it does." Jaebeom chuckled as well. "Never thought we'd be walking through these halls again to be honest." He laughed, reminiscent of the years spent there. The times they would walk the halls together either heading to the same lecture hall or to part ways at the stairs echoing through his mind as a memory.

"I honestly wasn't even aiming to work here. I thought that maybe I would end up working at a music academy." Youngjae stated as they left the building. "What are you up to nowadays, hyung?" He turned his head to look at Jaebeom.

"Well, here and there. You know how film directing can be." Jaebeom's shoulders raise and drop in a shrug, "Sometimes there's work, sometimes the script just seems so absurd I'm worried the writer will get bullied for it." He let out a sigh.

He didn't like turning down scripts and ideas, and even if the idea was appealing to him, he was worried he wasn't a good enough director to bring the script to life.

"Hey, we just started working around a year ago. It'll get better soon." He reassured him. "For what it's worth, I think you're an amazing director, hyung. The films that you have directed turned out amazing. Especially those short films we used to work on together in college." He hummed out as they strolled together along the pavement of the university.

"You think so?" Jaebeom glanced over at Youngjae, unsure of whether or not he was being serious or whether he was simply being reassuring .

"I know so." Youngjae nods certainly. "Just let me know if you need a singer. This kid in my class - my God, he is so talented." He laughed as he gushed about his students.

Jaebeom listened intently, enjoying that they had never fallen out of touch even after they began working. The smile on his face never faltered. He hadn’t been able to spend proper time with Youngjae ever since they both started working. Unfortunately for the two, whenever Jaebeom was free, Youngjae had assignments to evaluate. Whenever Youngjae was free, Jaebeom had a film to direct.

They walked through the open area of the university. It mostly looked the same as it did many years ago, but it felt weird for the two of them to walk down the path together as working adults rather than students.

“There’s this one girl in one of my classes, she’s one of the music majors, but she’s so bitchy to the other students. It makes me feel bad for them since most of them are either as talented or, dare I say, more talented.” Youngjae sighed.

“Just fail her, dude. She’ll get the message.” Jaebeom suggested with a shrug.

“No, hyung. That’s not fair.” He shook his head and frowned at the older man. Youngjae didn’t like purposefully failing his students. It didn’t feel fair. He actually tried his hardest to make sure they would pass.

“What’s her work usually like? Is it good?” He questioned. Youngjae thought about it before shrugging,

“It’s…average I guess. She isn’t part of the top 5 in her class.”

“Then, lower her grades just a little more. Show her that if she focuses on her work rather than putting the other students down, her grades will go up.” Jaebeom explained. Youngjae glanced over at him as he took in his advice.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt just to lower her grades a bit.” He nodded. They continued to walk until they reached the fountain in the front. “Oh, that’s her.” Youngjae gestured towards one of the girls amidst two others, sitting together at the bench in front of the fountain.

“Well, she looks bitchy.” Jaebeom pointed out when he saw the way she tripped one of the other students as he walked past her.

“She’s a lot to handle. She always wears those really short skirts to classes with male lecturers and it freaks me out.” Youngjae scrunched his face up in disgust.

“For grades or…. Is she just kinda like that?” He questioned as they tried to steer clear of her path.

“According to one of the students in my class, it’s for grades.” He stated.

“Mr Youngjae!”

“Oh god.” Youngjae froze when he heard her voice calling him. He reluctantly turned around to face her as she came up to him, the smell of her nose burning perfume wafting over the two as she stood in front of Youngjae. “Hey, Maya.” He suppressed his sigh as he greeted her.

“Can I ask you about that assignment on music genres?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

“Uhh, sure. Do you have any problems with it?” He questioned.

“Are we allowed to write about any artists?” She asked. Youngjae nodded. “Are there any specific genres we shouldn’t write about?”

“Not really. It’s up to you. I mentioned this in class.” He pointed out.

“I know, I just wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying.” Her voice lowered as she took a step closer to him. “You should wear this jacket more often. It makes your arms look nice, sir.” She whispered, causing Youngjae to recoil in disgust and take a step back.

“Yeah, uhm, thanks for that, I guess?” He awkwardly muttered out. He quickly turned around to Jaebeom and with the urgent look in Youngjae’s eyes, he knew exactly what to do.

“Jagiya~ We’re going to be late.” He cooed as he snaked his arm around Youngjae’s and gently tugged him.

“Y-Yeah, sorry Maya. I’m a bit busy right now. If you have any more issues, just email me.” He cleared his throat and turned around, the two of them quickly walking away from her. Jaebeom kept his arm linked with Youngjae,

“Wait until she can’t see us anymore.” He whispered to Youngjae. “Okay.” He pulled his arm away from him once they were out of her line of sight.

“Oh my god, hyung, that was so weird, but thank you.” Youngjae let out a sigh of relief. “Did you see the look on her face?” He laughed.

“She looked so defeated.” Jaebeom chuckled.

“As fun as that was, never do that again.” He snorted.

“Why not? It worked, didn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow as he hugged Youngjae’s arm, “Jagiyaa~ why don’t you like me?” Jaebeom whined out with a pout on his lips while Youngjae laughed as he tried to pull his arm out of his grip, resorting to taking his jacket off and pulling away. “Woah, you got a tattoo?” Jaebeom questioned, his eyes going wide when he saw the geometric peony design on Youngjae’s forearm.

Youngjae looked down, realising that he had almost completely forgotten that he had actually gotten the flower design tattooed the year before.

“Oh, yeah, I did.” He hummed out as he extended his arm to let Jaebeom get a closer look at it. “My soulmate drew it on their arm. I thought it would be nice to get it tattooed, then it wouldn’t go away whenever they had to wash it off.” He smiled slightly as he looked at it.

“Still haven’t met them yet, huh?” Jaebeom asked.

“Not yet.” Youngjae sighed as he took his jacket from Jaebeom. “I don’t even know their gender. They’ve never seemed to try.”

“Have you guys talked recently?” He questioned but Youngjae shook his head.

“They’ve been really busy in the past few weeks.” He muttered out. “The last time we talked they said they have a lot of art projects that need to be done before the month’s over. I’ve been leaving little encouraging messages on my arms but I haven’t gotten much of a response.” He pursed his lips.

“Give it time, they’ll respond soon.” Jaebeom reassured him.

“I’ve been looking through art galleries if maybe I could find any kind of art that was similar to theirs, but I haven’t been able to find anything.” Youngjae let out another sigh.

“There’s an art gallery happening this weekend in town. You wanna check it out? We can meet at the train station or something.” He suggested.

“Sure. I don’t think I have much going on this weekend.” He nodded as he pulled his phone out to check his schedule, “Okay, I have nothing going on this weekend.” He clarified.

“Great, okay, so I’ll meet you at the train station on Saturday.”

“Sounds good.”

»»————-　　————-««

“Alright, so…” Jaebeom hummed out, his eyes stuck to the leaflet he had picked up right before they stepped into the exhibition building. “The art is by different artists. Their names are written beside the art.” He turned away to look at Youngjae, “Any one of these could be by your soulmate, you ready to go in?” He questioned.

“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for them my entire life and this is the third art gallery I’ve been to.” Youngjae nodded. The two stepped into the exhibition, their eyes widening when they saw the art that was displayed. “Holy shit, this is the best gallery I’ve been to.” He muttered out in awe as they went further into the exhibition. The array of paintings and different techniques used made the hall they walked into seem almost magical.

“Check this out.” Jaebeom spoke up as he stopped in front of a wire sculpture. .

“Is that a bird cage?” Youngjae questioned as he tilted his head to try and understand what he was looking at.

“Yeah, it is.” He hummed out after he read the description sitting beside it.

“I’m gonna keep walking around.” Youngjae hummed out as he walked away from Jaebeom and started to walk deeper into the building, the different types of art seeming to engulf him as he did. The sound of his footsteps against the wooden floor echoed throughout the mostly empty hall, his eyes pleased with the sight of all of the paintings and sculptures that almost seemed to have life as he walked past them.

His eyes scanned over the paintings before stopping at a particular one. His eyes moved over the way the flower was painted, the way the colours blended together and how the design seemed was obviously way more intricate than it seemed.

“Hyung.” Youngjae called when he turned to see Jaebeom slowly catching up with him. His head turned when he heard Youngjae’s voice and he picked up his pace. “Don’t they look the same?” Youngjae questioned as he lifted his forearm to compare the two flower designs. Jaebeom took a look at the painting before averting his gaze to Youngjae’s arm.

“A little bit.” He hummed in agreement before stepping closer to the painting to read the description. “It says here the artist behind the painting was inspired by a connection between her and her soulmate.”

“Her?” Youngjae questioned as he took a step to read the description as well.

“Yeah.” Jaebeom nodded as he turned to Youngjae who had a finger on his lip as he thought about it. He looked down at the tattoo on his arm before turning back up the older male,

“Does it say her name?”

“It doesn’t say her name. Just the description. Oh wait - this is a nickname.” He pointed out. Youngjae moved closer to read the name.

“Peony Girl?” He read out the name but it came out as more of a question. “Do you still have that leaflet?” He turned to Jaebeom who nodded and pulled the folded paper out of his pocket. He unfolded it and opened it up,

“Ah, here she is. There’s no pictures of her, just a picture of a flower.” He held up the leaflet to allow Youngjae to see it as well. “Says here she barely ever shows her face in stuff like this. She only puts drawings of flowers in the place she puts pictures down and she barely uses her real name.”

“Does it have her real name?” Youngjae asked as he moved closer to read the description of this mysterious Peony Girl.

“Nope, but it does have her Instagram and her Twitter.” Jaebeom pointed to the handles that were written underneath her description. Youngjae pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and searched up her handles, her Instagram showing up almost immediately when he did.

“This is her.” He scrolled through her posts, most of them flower related with a few of different more abstract drawings and paintings scattered throughout her feed.

“Do they look similar to what your soulmate used to draw on their arm?” Jaebeom asked as he turned to look at Youngjae.

“Not really - wait.” He was about to shake his head when his finger stopped scrolling. He pressed on one of her posts and his breath hitched in his throat. It was exactly the same as his tattoo. “Hyung, look.” He muttered out and angled himself to let Jaebeom have a look at his phone.

“That looks exactly like yours.” He gasped out and zoomed into the picture. “Youngjae, it’s the same exact design. Read the description.” He pushed the phone into his face.

“‘Made a geometric peony design that my soulmate ended up getting it tattooed. I have yet to meet them and see how the tattoo turned out, but I hope it turned out well!’ Oh my god, I think this is them.” Youngjae could feel his heart starting to beat faster the more he scrolled through Peony Girl’s Instagram.

The more posts he saw, the more he realised how familiar her art style was. From the very first few of her posts, to the more recent ones, he recognised many of them from the flowers his soulmate would draw on their arms whenever they had extra time or were bored. So many reminded him of his time in school, his time in college, his time during training.

“Youngjae, I think we found your soulmate.” Jaebeom muttered out as he scrolled through Peony Girl’s Instagram on his own phone.

“Can we contact her?” Youngjae asked as he turned to Jaebeom.

“Send her a message, I guess.” He shrugged, not knowing how to approach the situation. Youngjae’s finger hovered over her DM, unsure if he should just message her out of nowhere or not. Just as he was about to send her a message, a voice called out from behind the two.

“Choi Youngjae.” The voice softly called out. Youngjae and Jaebeom whipped their heads around and Jaebeom’s face contorted in confusion when he saw you standing quite a distance away from them, your eyes fixated on Youngjae. The name that slipped past your lips was a name you didn’t know yet it felt so familiar when it rolled off of your tongue.

Youngjae stared at you for a moment, suddenly forgetting how to breathe as he stared at you. The name echoed in his head as he stared at you.

“(Y/n).” The name left his lips before he could even wonder who the name belonged to. It was when your name left his lips that Jaebeom realised exactly who you were and he took a few steps back as you and Youngjae took slow steps towards each other, both with pounding hearts, both with clammy palms.

The bag that was resting on your shoulder dropped when Youngjae wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a body crushing hug, holding you as though he was scared you would disappear.

“I-I’ve been waiting for you for so long.” Youngjae breathed out shakily in your ear, his grip around you tightening.

“I have too.” You whispered, your eyes closed as you relished in the feeling of finally being in his arms, breathing in his scent for the first time; the scent you didn’t even know you had been waiting for your entire life. Youngjae finally pulled away after what felt like minutes of just holding you, his face immediately moving to cup your face,

“(Y/n): that’s the name that kept fading away from your arm whenever you’d write it down.” He breathed out with a smile on his face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he took in your features.

“It is. I’ve been trying for so long. I’ve been trying to look for you for so many years.” You nodded happily, the smile on your face growing the more you took in the colour of his eyes.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you’d come to an exhibition with your own art.” Youngjae questioned as his hands dropped to take your hands instead, his thumb gently running over your knuckles but his eyes never leaving your face.

“I like to come here to see if anyone looks at my art. It’s nice to see people stop when they see my flowers.” You hummed out as you turned your attention to the flower painting on the wall. “I actually chose this because I was hoping that maybe you would come to exhibitions to look for me.” You explained, a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you realised how cheesy it sounded.

“I’m glad you did.” He reassured you with a wide smile on his face, his hand squeezing yours. “Oh! My tattoo.” He lifted his arm to show you the design on his arm. “Your drawings did end up bringing us together.” He let out a soft giggle as he saw the way you traced the tattoo, your fingers ever so gingerly grazing his skin with a soft hum leaving your lips.

“Yeah, they did.”

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