#I have cooler photos but I don’t want to blur my face in them

[okcoolthanks]

Car wash had pretty colors (((:

[rodeoxqueen]

Hi hi!! I was wondering if you could do hcs of DMC boys spending times with their kids at the amusement park and at the end they take pictures with each other thank you so muc ^^

Howdy Howdy,

Of course I can, gorgeous. 

Enjoy,

Rodeo. 

Dante 

“Kids! Wake up, wake up, we’re going to the amusement park!” He screams as he kicks the door down. The kids aren’t expecting it but they were overjoyed regardless. 

Just as excited as his kids to go to amusement parks. He drives them the whole way over talking about which rides they should go on. They miss their turns several times. 

Daddy Dante got the full dad in amusement park attire. Hawaiian shirt, board shorts, and flamingo socks with sandals. 

It helps to be super strong, he holds all their stuff. 

He races the kids to the lines. He basically lets them do what they want but he wants to go on the scary rides. Good thing it’s not their turn with the Sparda brain cell, they fear nothing. 

“Wow, they say this ride is not suitable for sick people, pregnant women, old people, and people with common sense and self-respect. Well kids, it’s good that’s not any of us.” 

“Dad, you’re pretty old.” 

“Do you want to ride this death trap or not?” 

“Nevermind, you don’t look a day over twenty, dad.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

He wins them all the prizes. One of his kids runs around with the largest unicorn known to man while the vendor tells Dante that no, he cannot use Ebony and Ivory to win anymore stuffed animals. 

“It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die!!” 

“Kiddo, can that wait? We still have several rides to go on.” 

Dante even has the dinky cameras with the photos you get developed at the print store. All of them are blurred or one of the kids makes a weird face in it. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You know those punching bags they have that measure your strength? Well, Dante is super cocky stepping up to punch the daylights out of it. 

The goofy dad misses, his fist going straight through the machine and lifting it out of the cement. His kids cheer as he realizes what he’s done. 

“Did I win?” 

“Sir, you need to pay for that.” 

“Kids, book it and scatter! They can’t catch all of us.” 

They are banned from that park. No regrets. 

They go home, sunburnt, faces sticky with candy and all sorts of fried foods, and arms fulls of prizes. They don’t even make it to their rooms before they all pass out in the living room. 

Dante buys so many pictures they took from the rides. They join the rest of his wallet photos. 

Lady and Trish are mad he spent so much on one excursion, but seeing how happy he was with his kids, they don’t say anything. 

Vergil 

It isn’t until his kids plead and whine to him for weeks that he will open a portal to this “amusement park.” 

“But Father, all the other kids get to go!” 

“It is a frivolous waste of time.” 

“Uncle Dante is so cool, our cousins got to go-” 

“Where is it.” 

He’ll be damned before his brother is considered “cooler” to his own children.

He’s the dad that doesn’t want to be there but relented for his kids. Another unamused dad stands next to him as they watch their kids go feral. 

“You too, huh?” 

“Don’t talk to me.” 

He stands next to them in the long lines to ensure their safety. He glares at anyone who tries to cut in line. 

“Cut in line in front of my children again. Try it. I will cut you.” 

His kids get first in line since no one wants to stand behind Vergil. When the ride takes their photos, employees are shocked to see he is stone-faced the whole ride. 

“Hell had better drops than this.” 

His kids win prizes by themselves, Vergil once again relenting and handing them bills. 

They run over to him with their own prizes and he pats them on the head. 

“I expected nothing less.” 

Vergil does not want his kids to get sick from all the sweets they wish to consume. He lets them choose a few things and then he cuts them off. 

He sits down in the shade as his kids continue to play and run around. 

It isn’t until they point to the strength tester that Vergil gets up again. He knows it’s rigged. He initially refuses, but when someone calls him a wuss he removes his jacket and snatches the hammer from the vendor. 

Vergil hits the scale so hard that the puck flies straight off the scale and enters the stratosphere. 

“Are we done now?” 

He is handed an armful of tickets. His kids praise their father while he smugly smirks at the people who taunted him. 

“Foolish.” 

The pictures booth is thoroughly stuffed with all of his kids and their toys and stuffed animals. He is literally shoved into the background, all the weight on his lap as he tries not to asphyxiate. When the photos come out, you can only see the top part of his face. 

They all go home, thoroughly entertained. Vergil acts like he doesn’t care and that the trip was mundane. But only he knows, he was smiling in all of the booth photos. Good thing he’ll take that to the grave. 

V

His children see the posters around town for the amusement parks when he takes them out on afternoon strolls to the park. He’s an observant father, who notices how his kin gathers around the idea of this “amusement park.” 

“Dad, can we please go?” They shyly ask. 

“But of course.” He says. 

He is not prepared for the chaotic nature of these crowded social events. It’s hot, he’s sweating, everything is so expensive, it’s loud……

Since he is unnaturally pale, he always applies sunscreen. His kids are also slathered in it before they go running about. 

Bless him. He tries so hard to keep up in the sweltering heat. His kids notice he’s lagging behind so they decide to stay in one place so he can sit and observe. 

At least the burgers and fries are good here. His kids run about, asking him to try what deep-fried and sugary creations they have found. He’s very fond of cotton candy and how it disappears on his tongue. 

Shadow tries to eat garbage and Griffon is heckling the street performers. 

V’s children beg him to come with them and practically drag him to the rides. He pales at the screams of other people. 

He relents and he goes on the rides. His kids feel awful after he throws up after the third repeat of the most infamous attraction. 

They leave him alone after that, letting him recover at a table. His familiars follow his children around to make sure nothing bad happens.

It’s not his scene, however….

He’s the new champ of guessing how many things are in a jar. He rests his head on his cane as he observes each marble, each little figurine before he guesses an incredibly close number. 

His children are shocked to come back to him and find the piles of tickets he’s won. 

His kids get themselves giant chicken and cat plushies. 

“Hey, V! Not funny!” Griffon declares in indignance at the chicken plushies his master’s children run about with. Shadow is quite a fan, keeping one in her mouth. 

Finally, it has gotten late and they all decide to take pictures. You know damn well that Griffon and Shadow wish to partake in this. 

V keeps the photos tucked in his book. 

Despite the literal spiraling rollercoaster that is amusement parks, he would do it all over again to see his children so overjoyed. 

[alpacaparkaseok]

7 Secrets <pt. 6>

GENRE: Soulmate!au BTS!

WARNINGS: maybe a bit of anxiety

WORD COUNT: 5446

I rewrote this part a few times, I wanted to get it just right. I hope you enjoy! Stuff is about to go down lol 

**Song rec for this chapter: “So Will I” by Ben Platt 

Thursday begins with a bang.

More specifically, it begins with the sound of Ichika falling off of her bed from the upper floor, and me waking up at the sound and wondering for half a moment what I’ve got going on today.

Ignorance is bliss.

The house is oddly quiet, and I lay there for a lot longer than I thought I would be able to. I eye my shopping bag at the foot of my bed, eager to get ready. Like Himari said last night: we’re going to look good today.

It isn’t until a light knock sounds at my door that I realize I’ve been dozing off again. Ichika peeks inside, her face lighting up in a grin when she sees my bedhead.

“Good morning,” she chimes before padding over and flinging herself onto my bed. We lay there for a long while, quietly chatting about the day and how we’re going to get ready and style our hair.

Next comes Aera, her bedhead even more impressive than mine. She doesn’t say a word, simply sliding in under the covers.

Minsuh and Seohyun appear later on. My bed isn’t nearly big enough to accommodate us all but I don’t mention it, opting to bask in the lazy morning that feels like the calm before the storm.

It’s nearly noon by the time Himari and Kyung-soon show up, the two of them cracking up at the scene.

“Wait, let me grab my phone!” Himari runs to get her phone and snaps a photo of the five of us buried on my bed.

“Alright,” Kyung-soon sighs, a light in her eyes that I haven’t seen there before. “Let’s eat. We can’t be hangry when we meet our soulmates.”

It’s like she said the magic word, because soon enough my room is empty with only Himari left behind.

“Wow, they only wanted me for my bed. How rude,” I joke, earning a light laugh. “Are you ready for today?”

Himari smirks at me. “You know, I’ve had three years to prepare but somehow this morning I woke up feeling just as unprepared and giddy as I did three years ago. Isn’t that strange?”

She slings her arm around me and we make our way downstairs to the chaotic kitchen. “No, I get what you mean. I feel really chill right now, but it’s like I can feel the storm coming.” A couple of the other girls hear my comment and are quick to agree.

Seohyun lets out a shaky breath, the girl showing the first signs of nervousness. She says something that surprises me a bit, seeing how she’s always been the most vocal about her soulmate. “Well, I guess that no matter what happens today, everything will be alright. At the end of the day, we’ll still have each other.” She smiles at us as she takes a bite of her toast. “That’s more than enough for me.”

“Aw, so sentimental, Seohyunie.” Aera coos.

“Yeah, you’re not allowed to get us all emotional this early in the day.” Ichika says.

“It’s literally already the afternoon,” Seohyun fires back, her cheeks red.

“Well, bicker all you want, but I’m going to go get ready!” Minsuh has already devoured her breakfast, the excitement prominent on her face. I’m glad to see that her worries from the other night have subsided.

“Minsuh!” Himari shouts after the fleeing girl.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll pay for your meals for a month if you wear your pajamas to meet Jungkook!”

“Not a chance!”

↔

5 pm has come all too soon.

I fidget in my room as I take one last look in the full-length mirror. My hair falls around me in long curls; the time it took to perfect them definitely paid off. There’s a bit of rain falling, so I don my new trenchcoat in preparation for the cooler weather.

I smile at my reflection, amazed at the power a beautiful (but cozy) outfit has on my mood. My reflection portrays a young woman who looks like she’s ready to take on the world.

I only hope that confidence doesn’t abandon me.

It’s currently 4:45, the van should be here in 15 minutes. I take the moment of peace to close the door to my room and settle down on my bed, hesitating before picking a song to listen to.

I pluck up the courage and click on the song. “Forever Rain” from Namjoon’s playlist “Mono” plays, the light pitter patter of the rain from outside creating a surreal atmosphere.

Closing my eyes, I allow the song to wrap around me. Namjoon’s soothing voice both calms me and makes my heart race as I wonder for the fiftieth time today what he’s doing right now.

As the song comes to a close, I open my eyes and take a deep breath.

“I can do this.”

With the final boost of courage, I double check that I have everything I’ll need (which is really just myself, purse, and phone) and head downstairs. Kyung-soon is already down there, standing by the window in the living room as she cranes her neck to see if the van is coming. She looks beautiful, the simple sweater and jeans only bringing more attention to her delicate features. Her long black hair is lightly curled, and her berry-colored lips turn up in a nervous smile when I enter the room.

“You look amazing,” she says. “Seriously.”

“You do too, Soon-ah. Absolutely stunning. I’m glad that I’m not the only one who went with a more casual outfit. We’ll have to stick together.” I wink at her, and she laughs before turning back around to look out at the street.

Himari enters the room, the queen of casual style that she somehow manages to pull off like she’s at the red carpet. She carries a jacket in hand, prepared for the rainfall.

“Hey,” she greets me. “Looking good.”

“Right back at ya.” Himari stands beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. She’s unusually touchy today, no doubt due to the nerves. I don’t mind the extra contact, it helps to soothe my own nerves.

“Are the vans here yet?” Seohyun lights up the room in her yellow skirt, another queen of casual style. “Wow, you were right Himari. We do look amazing today.”

“We do, don’t we? No, no vans. They should be here any minute. Do you have everything?”

“Yeah, ready to go. I’ll go check that the others are ready.”

Soon enough Seohyun returns with Minsuh, Aera, and Ichika. All three look amazing, Aera’s professional background in design and fashion showing through as she is definitely the most well-dressed out of all of us. Minsuh looks adorable, her jean skirt making her look more youthful than me. Ichika reminds me of Taehyung, her layered top bringing out the artsy vibe she always has.

“Oh, oh!” Kyung-soon looks like it’s Christmas morning. “I think that’s the van, coming down the street!”

We all rush over to the window, honing in on the large black van that makes its way down to the apartment. It comes to a stop outside, and a man in a black suit and earpiece steps out.

“Wow, I feel like we just became famous,” Minsuh whispers.

“Alright, does everybody have everything?” I pipe up. The last thing we need is to forget something important. Everybody double checks, and by some miracle we’re ready. Just in time. A knock sounds on our door.

“You get it, Beth.” Himari nudges me.

“How did I know you’d say that?” I open the door, the bodyguard waiting for me outside with his umbrella up and ready to shield us from the rain.

“Hello everybody, Bang PD sent me. Are you ready to go?” I nod, my stomach doing flips. “Alright. I’ll escort you to the car, go ahead and step under my umbrella.” With my head in the clouds I step out, remembering at the last second to tell the other girls to lock the door behind them. I double check my purse, making sure I have the house key.

Before I know it all seven of us are packed into the van, and we’re off. Ichika sits on my left, holding my hand so tightly I think I’ll lose feeling in it before long. On my right is Kyung-soon, her arm looped through mine.

Our chauffeur is kind enough to play some music so we don’t drown in the heavy silence. None of us say much, each too lost in their own world to focus on a conversation. With each passing block my heart pounds faster and faster, and I fight against the tears that are pricking my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I can’t cry yet, but my inner whirlpool of emotions threatens to take over.

It’s already been a long day. And now, we’re just getting started.

What only feels like five minutes turns out to be thirty, because we’re suddenly pulling up to the BigHit building.

I manage to croak something out before we come to a complete stop, speaking for the first time the entire drive. “I’ll hold your purse while you go run laps, Kyung-soon.”

We laugh a bit, easing the tension. “How kind of you.” We begin to pile out of the van, and we’re escorted to a side door by the kind bodyguard. In a blur of movement we’re inside the building and led to an elevator. It’s only when we’re passing the fourth floor that I even realize that Ichika is still holding my hand.

“You alright?” I whisper to her, even though everyone can hear me in the small space of the elevator.

She looks at me, her eyes wide with anticipation and the anxiety that comes with it. “What was the code word for if we think we’re going to pass out?”

Aera’s voice pipes us from behind us, I can hear the grin in her voice. “It’s ‘holy cow’, isn’t it Beth?”

I can’t help but laugh, the ridiculousness of the entire situation making everything funnier. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Ichika squeezes my hand again. “Well, holy cow Beth. Holy cow is pretty much the only thing I’m thinking right now.”

“Are you telling me that you’re not even thinking about Taehyung?” I raise my eyebrows at her, the teasing making me feel better. Less likely to throw up, at least.

“Oh, shut up.” Ichika rolls her eyes, but the nerves seem to lessen a bit at the banter.

The doors slide open and the bodyguard ushers us out. “Alright, right there is Mr. Bang’s office. He should be inside waiting for you.” He points out a door just down the hall.

I make my way to the door on shaking legs, unsure of what to expect. Surely the boys aren’t inside the office, right? No, it’s way too small to fit all of us in there at the same time. That would just be cruel.

A quick glance over my shoulder shows everybody else trailing behind me. Himari gives me a thumbs up, prompting me onward. I level with a look that says ‘why must I do everything’ before I knock on the door.

A few seconds pass and then the door is swinging inward and Mr. Bang’s smiling face greets me.

“Well hello! I’ve been waiting for you all!” His eyes sweep over us, doing a mental count. “I’m glad you could make it. Come inside.”

The inside of Mr. Bang’s office is filled with photos, awards, and a leather couch with a few chairs. I all but collapse into one of the chairs while everybody else chooses their seats. Nobody speaks, but I notice them looking to me, Mr. Bang included. Clearly he’s waiting for my usual sarcastic remark.

“Well, here we are.” I say, struggling to even think straight enough to come up with a decent comment. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Mr. Bang leans back in his chair, observing us. “Let’s get right down to it. There’s a lot we need to go over today, some can be done now with just the seven of you, the rest will have to be done with the boys.” My heart skips a beat at the mention of our soulmates. For some reason I’m surprised that we are actually going to meet them today. Maybe part of me simply expected a meeting with Mr. Bang. At least I didn’t buy a new outfit for nothing, right?

“Ok,” I nod slowly as though to clear the fog in my head. Right now I’ve got tunnel vision and I know I won’t be able to retain much information. “That’s fine. What do we need to know?”

“First off, are you all doing alright? Breathe. I can tell you that the boys are just as nervous as you are, so just breathe and try to relax. Today is meant to be enjoyed, and I promise that my staff and I have tried to make this day as calm and normal as can be.”

I almost laugh, wondering what part of normal includes a bodyguard and meeting the most famous band on the planet. I guess we’re playing by Bang PD’s rules now, though.

“The boys are nervous?” Minsuh pipes up, sheepishly looking down at her shoes.

Mr. Bang chuckles, nodding his head. “Extremely. I nearly had to give Jungkook a paper bag earlier because he was so close to hyperventilating.”

This merits a laugh and a sigh of relief from everyone, especially Minsuh as she blushes thinking about her soulmate.

“Anyways, I’ll try to get through this so you can meet the boys.” He now has everyone’s full attention. “I first wanted to thank you all for being so patient over the past three years. I know this hasn’t been easy, and you’ve had to sacrifice a lot of things. You’ve handled yourselves with grace and dignity. Even without the soulmate tests confirming your bonds with the boys, I would have been sure that you are meant to be simply by observing you over the years. I cannot thank you enough.”

He smiles at us, an adoring look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Kyung-soon mutters.

“Now we’ve finally made it. It’s been a long journey, and this may seem sudden, but I believe that the timing is right. Today there will be a couple of doctors on hand who specialize in soulmate bonding, as these first meetings can be draining on both your emotions and energy. Don’t be afraid to ask for a breather if all of this is too overwhelming. There is no shame in that.”

My stomach turns to rocks hearing that. I’m reminded of my conversation just a couple of days ago with Aera. If meeting my soul sisters, who I’m not directly bonded to was so intense, what will this be like? Namjoon is only one person, whereas I have six soul sisters.

I voice my thoughts aloud. “I understand that this will be more...intense than it was meeting the girls. Will it really be that bad?”

Bang PD smiles at my question. “That bad or that good?” A blush creeps up my cheeks. “It will definitely be much more intense than your first meeting with the girls. Direct bonds are powerful. There is also the fact that you will be indirectly bonded with the other boys, like you were with the girls. Not quite as intense as the soul sister bond, but similar to it since they are your soulmate’s soul brothers.”

I exchange looks with Himari. This is news to us. It makes sense, and I’m happy about the fact that I’ll be gaining a lot of new friends today.

“Due to the fact you’ll be going through various levels of bonding today, we have taken precautions. You each will first meet your soulmates privately, and given sufficient time to bond and recover.” My stomach grows more and more uncertain as Mr. Bang explains the process. “After that, each individual couple will meet a different couple one at a time until you’ve all finished meeting. Like I said, doctors will be there to support you and we encourage you to take a break if you’re too exhausted. However, I’ve been told by the specialists that your soulmate will be the best support to you. So don’t be afraid to rely on each other. Understood?”

Mr. Bang smiles as us like he’s suggesting a place to grab lunch, not explaining the details of soulmate bonding. I give him a weak smile in return, a couple of the others grunting in acknowledgement.

“Wonderful.” Mr. Bang stands up from his seat, the simple action making my heart begin to pound again as I know that can only mean one thing. “Let’s get to it. I hope you don’t mind, but I discussed this with the boys earlier and asked them what order they would like to go in. Surprise, surprise: they’re going in order of age. That means that Jin and his soulmate will go first.”

I turn to look at Kyung-soon, who looks deathly pale. I wonder if the first thing she’ll say to Jin is a string of curse words for making her go first. Better first than last. Poor Minsuh will have to wait a long time for her turn, only making the nerves worse.

“Well, shall we?” Kyung-soon has gotten a hold of herself again, rising from the couch and smoothing out her sweater. “I’ve got to give my soulmate a piece of my mind for making me go first.”

Bang PD bursts out into laughter, having never seen the feistier side of the normally docile Kyung-soon. “Oh, I have a feeling the two of you will get along great.”

↔

I feel like I’m at the waiting room in the doctor’s office. Kyung-soon just entered a room at the end of the hallway, waving at us as her eyes lit up with that same light I noticed earlier today. I can only pray that I’ll be just as good at masking my nerves.

Seohyun paces in front of where we sit, awaiting her turn. We were told that we would each be given about 5 minutes of initial bonding before they would clear the room for the next pair. Apparently after the first five minutes the intensity starts to wear off, and then each couple is escorted to a recovery room on the same floor somewhere.

My blood is humming in my veins and I can practically feel Namjoon, wherever he is. Probably just on the other side of this floor. I fidget in my seat, desperate to just get it over with but dreading it at the same time. In my head “Forever Rain” is echoing, and I can’t tell if that’s helping or not.

5 minutes pass. Seohyun is waved over by a friendly looking doctor who pokes her head out the door.

“You’re Min Yoongi’s soulmate?” The doctor asks, her smile unwavering as Seohyun prances down the hall.

“I am, yes.” She waves at us. “See you on the other side!” I can hear the shaking in her voice, but she looks excited. We wave back, calling out words of encouragement.

Himari stands up, stretching. “Do I look alright?” She’s up next. Just a few more minutes before she disappears through that door.

I nod. “You look perfect. How are you feeling?”

“Like I could run a mile in 3 minutes flat but also like I might throw up at any second. You?”

“Pretty much the same. Not sure I could do 3 minutes though, maybe 4.”

Himari laughs, fiddling with her shirt and making sure it’s tucked in correctly. I stand up, helping her in the back where she can’t see.

“Everything will be perfect,” I reassure her, hoping that my smile looks the part. She sighs, wrapping me up in a hug. I’ve received a lot of those since I landed in Seoul.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Suddenly it’s been five minutes, although I have a sneaking suspicion it’s been less. Leave it to Seohyun to bond quicker and more efficiently than anyone else.

“Gotta go,” Himari salutes us as she makes her way to the door where the same doctor awaits her. I hear her voice as she confirms that she’s Jung Hoseok’s soulmate, but it sounds distant and quiet as the din in my head turns up to full volume.

5 minutes.

I remain where I was before, staring at the wall as I sway from one side to another. It’s so loud in my head, “Forever Rain” is on repeat and I swear my heart is trying to break out of my chest.

“...ok?”

I blink, looking at Aera who has concern written all over her face.

“Did you say something to me?”

“I just asked if you were going to be ok.”

I swallow heavily. “Y-yeah,” I manage to get out. “I’ll be fine. Just freaking out a little bit.”

“Ok,” Aera doesn’t look convinced.

“Do I look alright?” I fidget with my necklace.

“Bethany,” Aera’s voice cuts through all the noise in my head. “You are absolutely gorgeous. You’re also the most courageous, capable person I know. You can do this.”

I can do this. I think of Namjoon, so close by. We can do this.

“Bethany?” The door at the end of the hallway opens up, the doctor peeking outside.

I look back at Aera, and she offers me a thumbs up. Minsuh and Ichika smile up at me, words of encouragement spilling from their lips.

“That’s me.”

“Kim Namjoon is your soulmate, correct?” The doctor’s kind eyes are assessing me as I walk over on surprisingly steady legs.

“Yes,” I nod. My eyes focus on the doctor’s name tag as she gently ushers me inside the room. It says her name is Dr. Kim, which must be a good sign, right?

“Ok, Bethany. How are you feeling?”

I nod, the nervousness must be written all over my face so I don’t try to hide it. “I’m fine, I think. Just a little nervous.

Dr. Kim smiles at me. “That’s completely normal. If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”

I’m about to thank her when another voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Oh,” it comes out as a gasp, and my head feels like it’s swimming through concrete as I turn to look who it is. Even though I already know. I’ve heard that voice countless times.

Kim Namjoon is already looking at me by the time I drag my eyes to his face. I hardly register Dr. Kim’s nudge as I start moving forward, a male doctor on the other side of the room watching us intently.

Namjoon looks how I feel- struck by lightning. His eyes are alight with something akin to adoration and curiosity, and I can feel my heart skip a beat as I realize that look is for me.

He takes longer strides than me, but he stops just a step away from me. I take a moment to take in his appearance. The denim jeans he’s wearing nearly steal all of my attention before I manage to look up at his shirt, a simple white button down.

Perfect is the only word I can think of as I finally look back up at him. Once again, his eyes are already on mine and I jump at little at the sudden eye contact. His mouth opens, another little gasp leaving it.

His cheeks are flushed when he finally speaks.

“I-can I…” He stops, eyes drifting to his feet before looking back up at me again. “Can I just hug you?”

I nearly sob at his sweet question, and I silently step forward to press myself into my soulmate’s chest. He reacts immediately, his arms wrapping around me like a starving man. And it’s there, as my head nestles into his neck, that I feel the bond.

Namjoon holds me steady as what I imagine what lightning feels like courses through my body. With it comes a flurry of emotions, each one passing so quickly that I hardly have enough time to identify it before another comes. A pang of sadness hits me, and I can tell Namjoon feels it too because his already impossibly tight grip grows tighter. He rests his cheek on my head, and I nearly melt at the touch. With it the sadness fades, a calming balm coursing through us. Love, joy so tangible I nearly reach out to touch it, giddiness and trust wrap themselves around us.

By the time everything subsides, a single thread of the bond hangs invisible between us that I can almost tug it. I feel like I’m coming up for air after being submerged in water for too long.

We separate as a final shock hits us, both of us panting even as we wince at the loss of contact.

Dr. Kim and the male doctor make their way over to us, Dr. Kim attaching a blood pressure cuff to my arm before I even realize what’s going on. I notice the other doctor doing the same to Namjoon.

Namjoon sneaks a glance over at me, his cheeks still a deep red. My mind is still spinning and trying to understand what just happened. And the fact that I’m literally 5 feet away from my soulmate.

“Are you ok?” I flush as Namjoon asks me the question, Dr. Kim grinning up at me knowingly.

I nod. “Y-yeah. I think so. Are you?”

“Feeling great,” he responds even as he glares down at his blood pressure cuff. My eyes trail down to it too, before I decide against it as his bicep tends to make my giddiness grow. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.” He gives a sheepish grin, his dimple just showing up.

I return it, and his eyes drift down to my mouth. “I’m Bethany.” I chew on my lip for a second, my blush only growing stronger as I watch Namjoon force his eyes away from my mouth and red color his cheeks. Good to know I’m not the only one struggling. “You can call me Beth, though.”

Before we can continue our small talk, the cuffs are released. “Ok you two, feeling alright?” The male doctor asks us. We both nod. “Great. I know it’s intense and you might be feeling a little weak, but don’t be afraid to rely on each other. Namjoon, go ahead and hold Bethany’s hand while we take you to the recovery room. It will help to steady you both.”

Namjoon looks at me hesitantly, clearly embarrassed, but he slowly extends his hand out to me. So slowly that it looks like he’s trying to not scare away a skittish animal.

His hand engulfs my own, and the doctor was right. I feel much better already, more steady. Namjoon gives my hand a squeeze, looking down at me. I nearly swoon, a giggle escaping me at the situation.

“What are you laughing about?”

Hearing him speaking to me only makes me laugh again. “I just can’t believe how freaked out I was before.”

“Oh, me too.” My surprise must be evident at his confession. Was he really nervous too? “I don’t think I’ve slept for the past three days.”

We’re led out of the room to another room with a couch and some water and snacks. Just before the doctor leaves I remember to ask him something.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon grins at my politeness, not releasing my hand as he grabs water and offers it to me.

“Yes?”

“How long did we take?”

The doctor smiles. Everybody is smiling, me included. How could I not?

“Do you have a bet going on with the others or something? I hate to break it to you, but you guys are dead last. The bonding lasted six minutes.” My eyes widen. It certainly didn’t feel that long.

“How long did Seohyun take? She’s with Min Yoongi.”

“Oh, yeah, how long did they take? They were fast.” Namjoon mumbles by my side.

The doctor chuckles at us. “They only took 2 minutes and 42 seconds.” With that he leaves us alone in the room.

“Wow,” I whisper, sipping on my water. Namjoon still holds my hand, his fingers interlocked with mine. I try and fail to not let the small point of contact take over my senses. “I should have known Seohyun would be quick. She was by far the most prepared out of all of us.”

“And you were the least prepared.”

It isn’t a question, and I glare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Namjoon laughs as I yank my hand from his, feigning offense. I collapse on the couch and he follows after me.

“I watched the docufilm,” Namjoon explains, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. I groan, hiding behind my hands.

“Like, all of it? Everything over the past three years?”

He chuckles, growing more comfortable by the second. “Yep. Everything.” His dimple reappears and I admire him from behind my hands. “I’m just glad you didn’t go to Antarctica.”

I laugh, pointing at him accusingly. “So you were watching the Facetime a couple of nights ago!” Namjoon has the decency to look flustered. “How dare you?”

“We-I just-” he stutters, “Can you blame me?”

I assess him from where he sits a respectable distance away. I still hardly even know the man, but I already know I could never harbor a grudge. Not that he needs to know that right now. I get up, heading over to the snack table again before deciding on a bag of chips. Now I’m starving, after hardly being able to eat over the past couple of days. Namjoon sits in silence, awaiting my response. I almost laugh again at the whole situation, until I realize that we are very much alone in this room. I shake off the tension I feel, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“I was freaking out the entire call,” I admit, settling back down on the couch. “I kept thinking I could hear people in the background, but I thought that I must be going crazy. So I definitely blame you.” I open the bag, offering some to Namjoon. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of his smile. “Now tell me. What was your favorite part of the docufilm?”

Namjoon ponders for a second, the red coming back to his cheeks. I wonder what he’s thinking. He finally settles on something, his face going serious as he looks back at me. I find it hard to breathe beneath his gaze.

“My favorite episode,” I had no idea they broke the film up into episodes, “was when you got lost at the night market.”

He doesn’t crack his serious expression, and I get up and move as far away from him as possible, settling for a chair on the far side of the room. If he’s seen all the episodes, he must know how much the others make fun of me for that night. Evil man, I think even as I fight the grin on my face.

Nearly thirty minutes later Dr. Kim knocks on the door before entering, finding Namjoon mid-sentence about how I obviously tried to hide my face from the cameras most of the time and how the boys would make fun of him because of it.

We look up at her from the couch to see her looking pleased. (Namjoon dragged me back to sit by him about fifteen minutes ago when I was accusing him of making me wait for three years, the bold action making him obviously embarrassed. His excuse was that he felt like he had to yell at me from across the room, but I think there might have been more to it.)

“Looks like you two are doing well.” Dr. Kim observes, jotting something down on her clipboard. “Ready to meet the others?” I jump up from the couch, Namjoon observing me with an amused look in his eyes. It’s not everyday I get to meet all of BTS in one day.

“Let’s go!” It’s my turn to drag Namjoon, tugging him out the door. When we leave the room I go to remove my hand from his, the intensity of the bond having faded and my awkwardness has returned full-force. He doesn’t let me, though. Instead he intertwines his fingers through mine, refusing to look at me when I looked up at him with my eyebrows raised.

Following the sound of several voices from up ahead, my soulmate and I go to meet the rest of BTS.

Previous - Next

Get ready to meet the rest of the boys! It’ll be fun, I promise. Remember that the taglist is open for whoever wants to join, just let me know! Thanks guys!

@mae-musicbitch @taylorroe3​ @heartblackerthancoffee​

[kinghoranshit]

Tell Me A Lie (NH) Ch 6

Word count: 1997

Warnings: swearing, minor assault 

The following day was spent mostly indoors. Niall had more writing to do and it gave me the opportunity to finish editing. That was until Niall insisted we go out to take photos. He took us to all the popular spots, including the angel wings, and honestly it was fun. Very cliche, but fun. 

He had a few people recognize him and ask for a photo. That was a bit bizarre. He was so nonchalant about it though. 

After we got back, I went upstairs to lay down. I definitely needed time to recoup before going out again; especially if the crowds were going to be large. Clubs in Iowa aren’t necessarily wild, they could be but not in the way I assumed LA was. And the college I went to, Wartburg, was in the small town of Waverly which only had a couple bars and only one allowed under the drinking age kids. I didn’t really party until my final year when I’d realized I hadn’t experienced that part of college and it led to some terrible relationships.

Granted, I knew that life wasn’t always rainbows and butterflies; Wartburg wasn’t my first choice. It induced a lot of my anxiety nowadays, despite having it before it all went down. I could be negative about it, but it made me stronger in a way. 

I rolled over onto my back and pinched the bridge of my nose. The frontal headache was slowly showing itself. I found my pill pocket and dragged my feet to the bathroom to use water from the sink. Then I rifled through my clothes to find my black elastic harness, white boxy tee, dusty blue satin skirt, ripped sheer tights, and black oxfords. I switched out the outfits before I somewhat settled on a focus on redoing my hair and makeup; I left it down, straightened it quickly and created a couple small braid strands, and did a darker ombre on my lids with winged liner. 

“Holy… shite,” Niall breathed as he waltzed into the room wearing a blue suede trouser and jacket set with a white crew and brown boots. 

I took a step back from the body mirror and turned around to observe what he was wearing. “How did we manage to match but not match at the same time?”

“It’s the blues for sure,” he replied. 

“Right.” I turned back around to assess myself once more, deciding whether or not I needed any last touches. Niall came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my torso. His head rested on my shoulder. 

“You look great, Kelly.”

“Would it be cheesy to get a mirror couple selfie? The fans would eat that up.” 

His laugh vibrated against my back. “Use my phone.” 

Niall held his phone out, keeping one arm around my torso. I stuck with a normal smile, that was before he surprised me with a kiss on the cheek. My expression scrunched up as my body curled inward. I couldn’t stop the giggles at the ideas that crossed my mind. 

“Hold on, crouch down by my legs. I’m gonna take a fit pic and pretend I don’t see you.” 

He had a hard time keeping a straight face, but we managed to get a couple good shots. “I know what I’m posting.”

Niall smiled as he flipped through his. “Me too.”

A minute later, there were Twitter and Instagram notifications from him. I opened it up to see he had attached a normal picture of me smiling and then one of me scrunching up my face as he kissed my cheek. The caption was ‘A night out dancing with this beautiful woman . Don’t get many of these lately . Love you babe <3”. 

There goes the flutter in my chest again. Fuck. I mentally cleared my throat and moved my slightly shaky finger to like each post, then replied with “Love you too Nialler <3 <3”. As we slipped out into the night, I created my own posts. I chose one where Niall was looking right up at me and captioned it “Tonight’s fit feat. Niall. You’re my number one admirer. I love you always <3”.

I threw my phone into the temporary black, mini crossbody; I’d also thrown my wallet in it. If I’d worn jeans, I would’ve just put them in my pockets. My sight traveled to the blurred lights outside the window of our Uber’s car. There was definitely a vibe here; I could see why people loved to live here. 

“What’s the first place we’re going to?” 

“It’s a standard nightclub. Nothing over the top.”

I nodded. “Alright.”

My jaw dropped when we finally got inside. If this was standard, then I don’t want to know what the bouche nightclubs were like. The dance floor was enormous, dancers had their own little stages sporadically around it. I had to force myself to not stare at the beautiful women covered in glitter. I noted the bills in their straps. Maybe I’ll leave a tip for one of them at some point. Niall pulled us through the crowd of people and we stopped in front of the bar. 

“What do you want?”

“Sprite and apple pucker.”

He nodded and faced the bartender again. I tried to not let the loud music overwhelm my mind. Niall lightly touched my arm and I looked back at him, in a small daze from observing the place, and everything and everyone in it. I sort of felt out of place; like I wasn’t really there. The feeling was too familiar, and I didn’t like it. 

He set a clear square glass in my hand. I gave him a small smile and took a sip of it. The bubble popped on the top of my throat while the alcohol burned down. Niall had a Guinness in hand and took a swig of it. 

I took a few more sips of the jolly rancher drink, observing once again, and I kept close to Niall. His presence, and sweet drink, made me feel somewhat better.  

We found a nearby table to chill at for a bit. Let the alcohol soak in. I’d eventually gone to get refills for us. My eyes landed on one of the blonde dancers and she looked directly back at me. She smiled, turned to me, and reached a hand out. 

“Dance with me!” she yelled. 

I looked at her slightly dazed.

“Go on,” Niall encouraged.  

I tried to not cough on my own spit. “Y-you’ll be fine for a few?”

“Of course. Go!”

I handed him my clutch, then let the dancer guide me up onto the platform floor. I swayed back and forth slowly, letting myself get lost. I recognized the next song, Tumblr Girls by G-Eazy feat. Christoph Anderson, and got giddy. I allowed myself to sync deeper with the music. My hips swayed more, and I brought my arms above my head. 

The dancer closed in even more, resting hands on my hips, and grinded on one of my legs. 

“You’ve got some moves! What’s your name?” 

I flushed. “Lauren, and you too. You?”

“I’m Flora! Is that your boyfriend?”

“N-” I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yeah!” 

She laughed. “Well, he seems to be enjoying this.”

Heat ran deeper in my cheeks and I glanced over my shoulder to see Niall watching. He had his elbow resting on the table, hand under his chin. His beer bottle hovered over his privates. 

I bit my lip, laughing under my breath. “I gotta admit, I’m having fun too.” 

After a couple more songs, I decided it was time to get off the stage. No one else seemed to be getting invited by the dancers to join them up there, so it was awkward now. I grabbed a ten out of my wallet and handed it to her. 

“You are absolutely stunning Flora. Thanks for the fun!” 

Flora kissed my cheek, then winked. “You too, babe.” 

“That didn’t break any rules, right?” I took deep breaths to calm my high. I wanted to keep dancing for sure. Just not on show for everyone else. 

He shrugged. “I won’t tell. Come on, I want a turn.” He reached his hand out and I smirked. 

The music pace changed to something by ILLENIUM. I started to bounce with the rest of the crowd and did dumb arm movements. Niall busted a laugh, following my pattern. A few songs later, I had the urge to pee. It was immense. 

I gestured towards where I remember seeing a restroom sign. “Gotta use the girls’ room. Be right back.” 

I hurried into one of the stalls and relieved myself. I washed my hands and looked into the mirror, just as a girl who looked to be about a year or two older than me came out of a stall. 

She looked at me deviously. “You look familiar.” 

“Don’t we all in these places?” I laughed, slightly nervous. 

“Yes, but no, you look familiar for a different reason.”

“I’m sure I do.” I busied myself with drying my hands. Then I exited without saying another word. 

On my way back, a stranger touched my butt then pulled me into their chest to grind. “Shake that ass for me.

Without really thinking, I batted the hand away and turned around to throw a smack. “Fuck off!”

The guy glared. “What the hell, bitch?” 

“You touched my body without consent! You’re the bitch!” 

“Whatever,” he scoffed. “Your loss, baby! I got a date to get back to anyway!” 

I didn’t bother giving a proper response. By the look on his face, I knew I wasn’t the only one who would give him shit for violating boundaries. 

“What was the crack with that fella?” Niall asked, gesturing in the direction I came from. 

“Nothing.” I shrugged. 

He shot me a look. “You look pretty flustered, Kelly. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, can we just go home though? I-I’m tired.”

“Of course, yeah.”

Niall’s hand found mine. On our way out, the same guy glanced in our direction as he grinded with a different girl. A smirk spread on his lips, his hands tightening on her hips. There was a phantom feeling and I swallowed. I subtly ran my free shaky hand over the back of my skirt and looked away.

The night air was much cooler now compared to the inside of that club. We paused momentarily so Niall could call for another Uber. Niall wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on top of mine. A few minutes later, a Rover pulled up to the side and Niall approached to confirm it was for us. Then we both got in. 

Niall’s hand didn’t let go of mine until we were back in the house. I couldn’t lie, I was grateful for it. I let go though. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asked. 

I nodded. “I’m gonna get pjs on first.”

I couldn’t look at him before I left to go upstairs. I went for my oversized tee and floral shorts, and paused momentarily in the middle of the room. Finally, my feet moved toward the living room. 

Niall was propped on the couch with a blanket and when he saw me, he opened it up for me to snuggle into. He enveloped me in his arms before he hit play on the movie he chose. My brain wasn’t registering much of it. I focused on the warmth of Niall. The sturdiness of his body. He was a firm base. 

“That guy touched my butt and grinded on me without consent. I don’t really want to talk about it, but I also don’t want to brush it off.”

He tightened his arms around me, snuggling his face closer to mine. “I’m sorry that guys are so shite. You didn’t deserve that.”

I subtly shrugged, then whispered, “At least I’ve got you.”

I could hear him smile. “Always, Kelly.”

We both fell silent again and returned to the movie. 

Next part: Ch 7 (to come...)

[Masterlist]

[justheretobreakthings]

Arms Wide Open

Written for @gentronlegendaryfriendships

Day Four: Meeting the Family | Cultural Exchange

Word Count: 4,396 Characters: Keith, Shiro, the Holts Read on AO3 My house, my rules, my ko-fi

Story Summary:

The Holts are hosting a cookout for the members of the Kerberos team and their families. Shiro brings Keith along.

The Holt family’s backyard was bigger than Keith had expected. Sure, the house was near the edge of town, where homes started spreading out as the borders between city and countryside started to blur, but still. Maybe it was just because Matt was such an indoorsy guy, a computer geek with a habit of hibernating in his dorm, and Keith had just wound up assuming that the Holts didn’t have a whole lot of use for a big backyard. He hadn’t considered that the rest of the family may be more prone to going outside than Matt was.

Or perhaps just the fact that the yard was currently so crowded was making it look bigger. Shiro had told Keith that this cookout was for the Kerberos team and their guests, but Keith had assumed that just meant him and the Holts. The ground team had completely slipped his mind. There were dozens of people here; a couple were instructors at the Garrison’s academy, a few Keith vaguely recognized as either guest speakers or people he’d seen talking with Shiro, but most were strangers.

A nudge against his shoulder, from the seran-wrapped plate Shiro was balancing carefully in his hands, reminded him that he was standing frozen in the gateway, and he edged a little along the fence to let Shiro through. “You all right?” Shiro asked him.

“Uh-huh,” Keith said with a tentative nod. “Just, um, more people than I thought there’d be.”

“Ah, sorry about that. Well, you don’t need to talk to anyone you don’t want to talk to, okay? A lot of these people are stuffed-shirts anyway, don’t want that ruining your fun.” He grinned. “Just focus on the food, yeah? You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten one of Colleen Holt’s burgers. She’s a wizard on the grill.”

“Okay,” Keith said, taking a deep breath to prepare himself before following Shiro into the yard. The food did smell good, and the smell just improved as they made their way toward the food on display on folding tables against the wall of the house, all lined up for people to make their way down after getting their main course from the grill, which was currently being manned by a short-haired, slender woman Keith took a moment to recognize, since he’d only ever seen Colleen Holt before in a couple of photos on Shiro’s phone.

Shiro waved as they approached, giving her a smile. “I’m assuming you saved your very best burgers for me?” he asked as she turned toward them and returned his grin.

“Well, I was going to,” Colleen replied. “But you’re late. I ended up giving them away to some people who know how to stick to a schedule. I hope you’ve learned your lesson, young man.”

“Hey, I’ve had a busy week, needed to catch up on paperwork before getting here.”

“Mm-hm. And what paperwork would that be?”

“Not important.” He held out the plate in his arms. “I brought brownies. Does this make up for the tardiness?”

Colleen leaned in to examine the brownies. “Aw, Shiro,” she said, “You didn’t need to bring anything.”

“Oh, please, I’m happy to. Nothing like a good homemade brownie to finish off a good meal.”

Keith furrowed his brow. “They’re not homemade. You bought those.”

Shiro made an exaggerated grimace. “Well, a bakery is more like a home than most other businesses out there, so I’m still counting it.”

“But you got them at the supermarket.”

Shiro grimaced as Colleen laughed. “That’s okay, I could have guessed,” she said. “He’s not exactly known for skills in the kitchen. So, Shiro, planning on introducing me to your buddy here?”

“Right, of course,” Shiro said. “Keith, this is Colleen Holt - ”

“Doctor Colleen Holt,” she corrected him.

“Doctor Colleen Holt. Sam’s wife and Matt’s mom. Also an astrobotanist; she was on the team that developed the modular cultivation system that the Garrison currently uses in its lunar biospheres. Colleen, this is Keith Kogane. He’s a cadet at the Garrison. Probably going to beat me out for best pilot in academy history by the time he graduates, but don’t let him get a big head about it or anything.”

“Ah, Matt mentioned you’d taken one of the cadets under your wing,” Colleen said, holding out her hand to Keith. “Good to meet you, Keith. I hope Shiro here hasn’t been too terrible an influence on you.”

“I’m an amazing influence and you know it,” Shiro said as Keith silently shook Colleen’s hand. “Keith, don’t listen to her. She once said to Matt, and I quote, ‘Why can’t you be more like Shiro?’ Of course, that was only in regards to table manners, but still.”

“And if you can ever manage to teach that boy how to use a napkin, I will admit you’re an angel sent from Heaven, but that’s a pretty big ‘if’. You can go ahead and put your brownies with the rest of the desserts, Shiro, they’re at the end of the - ” She started to point toward the end of the line of tables, then frowned. “Katie!”

A girl who had been standing at the table jumped, her cinnamon-brown ponytail whipping around as she turned to face them, a partially eaten cookie dangling out of her mouth. Matt had mentioned before that he had a sister, and immediately Keith pegged this girl as her. Her face was a carbon copy of Matt’s; give her glasses and a shorter haircut and she could easily be mistaken for a younger version of Matt himself.

“What?” Katie asked through her cookie.

“How many of those have you had?”

Katie chewed thoughtfully at the cookie and swallowed before answering, “Like, fifty?”

Colleen sighed. “I told you to be sure to leave some for everyone else. You should at least try not to make yourself sick. Or eat some vegetables between the desserts.”

“Sorry,” Katie said with a shrug, not sounding sorry at all. She lifted her hand in a little wave. “Hi, Shiro. Those for me?”

“Hi, Katie, and no.” Shiro pulled the plate of brownies toward his chest. “If your mother says no more desserts, then no more desserts for you.”

“Kiss-up,” Katie said.

“Watch it, Katie,” Colleen said pointing her spatula at her. “You all promised to be on your best behavior today.”

“Matt calls him a kiss-up too.”

“Matt says it as a term of endearment,” Shiro said with a smirk. “Ah, Keith, you haven’t met Katie Holt yet, right? Matt’s little sister and gremlin extraordinaire. Katie, this is Keith. He’s a cadet at the Garrison. Top flier of his class,” he added with a note of pride in his voice, thumping Keith on the shoulder. “Katie’ll probably be applying to Garrison next year, so she may be a future classmate of yours. Scratch that, she definitely will be, she’s already nearly as good with computers as her brother.”

Katie snorted. “Nearly? I can code circles around him. If I was a couple years older, you can bet I’d be on that Kerberos mission too.”

“But for now, you’re here on Earth with us,” Colleen said. “And your job right now is to set out Shiro’s brownies for him, okay? And no eating them, you’ve had enough sugar to last you a week already.”

“We’ll see,” Katie said, stepping forward to take the brownies from Shiro and moving back to the dessert table.

Colleen sighed, rolling her eyes before turning back to Shiro. “All right, let’s not let these things get cold. You two want burgers or hot dogs?”

“Burgers for both of us,” Shiro answered. “Please and thank you.”

Colleen set buns onto paper plates for both of them before adding the patties and handing them off, and with a nod of thanks, Shiro led Keith down the tables to scoop up toppings and sides. He grabbed a large handful of the cookies Katie had been eating, looking around as if worried she was going to swoop back in and steal them from his plate - as far as Keith could tell, she had simply vanished from the yard, maybe slipped back into the house while he wasn’t paying attention, but he decided to take a cue from Shiro and be on his guard anyway - and passed two of the cookies to Keith before pulling two cans of lemonade from the cooler beside the dessert table before motioning Keith to follow him farther into the yard.

Keith balanced his plate carefully as they walked, one hand on top of the food to keep his potato chips from falling to the ground. He was nearly bowled over by two kids running past him right between him and Shiro, and right before they reached seats at one of the folding tables scattered throughout the yard, something cold nudged against his leg that made him jump, but he did manage to get all the way there with nothing being dropped. And the thing that had nudged him turned out to be the nose of a bull terrier, who wagged his tail enthusiastically while staring at Keith’s plate with shining eyes. Keith relented, ripping a piece of his hamburger bun off and handing it to the dog as he took his seat.

The dog wolfed it down without pausing to chew, then jumped up and put his front paws on the table, tail wagging even harder as his snout reached for more of Keith’s food. Shiro laughed. “I should have warned you,” he said. “Once Bae Bae knows you’re a sucker for the puppy dog eyes, he’ll never stop his begging.”

“Sorry,” Keith said.

“Hey, don’t apologize, I fell for it too my first time visiting. Hey Bae Bae!” He clicked his tongue, and the dog’s ears perked up as he turned to Shiro. “Ready?” Shiro said, lifting his clenched fist. Bae Bae stared intently. “Fetch!” Shiro turned around and tossed something Keith didn’t see across the yard, and Bae Bae took off, tongue flopping to the side of his mouth as he ran.

“What did you throw?” Keith asked.

“Nothing,” Shiro said. “Bae Bae’s not exactly as smart as the rest of the Holts. So.” He gestured toward Keith’s plate. “Go ahead, take a bite, tell me if you like it.”

Keith lifted the burger and bit into it, chewing slowly as Shiro watched eagerly. “All right,” Shiro said as Keith swallowed. “Is it amazing?”

“I’ve only had one bite,” Keith said.

“Okay, fine, take a few more.”

Keith did, contemplating the bite as he chewed, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s really good.”

“Best burger you ever tasted?”

“Uh… I mean, I really like the ones over at Larrison’s diner.”

Shiro raised a brow. “Wow, Keith. You’re really going to do Colleen dirty like that.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like the burger. Just, it’s not the best burger ever.”

“You know what, maybe it’s a matter of cheese complementing her burgers better than it does at Larrison’s. Suppose we’ll have to try to scrounge up some no-lactose cheese somewhere and come back sometime so you can try again. See if that - ah, Major Whitaker, good to see you.” He cut himself off as a middle-aged man took the seat across from him.

“Lieutenant,” the man said. “You read that article that came out this morning on that exoplanet survey satellite? If I might bend your ear for a few minutes, got some ideas about getting some collaboration worked out with the data we get from Kerberos.”

Keith chewed silently, letting his focus drift to his food as Shiro delved into conversation with the other man. Some of the stuff they were mentioning Keith could understand from his Garrison classes, but other parts were above his pay grade. He had finished the burger and had moved on to his chips by the time Whitaker spotted someone else he needed to talk to and took his leave.

“Sorry about that,” Shiro said, turning back to Keith with a little smile. “He tends to get right into talking, doesn’t bother with formalities like introducing himself.”

“That’s okay,” Keith said.

“You know, if you’d like, this can be a bit of opportunity to meet some of the other people involved in the Garrison’s manned missions. Considering how easily you’ve already taken to piloting, some of these people may be future crewmates of yours. Let’s see.” He turned in his chair. “Colonel Molina there, she was on the flight crew to the Garrison’s first expedition to Enceladus, and was one of the engineers who designed the Kerberos’ cockpit layout. That woman she’s with - crap, can’t remember if they’re fiancées still or wives now. Ah, well, not important. Uh, Dr. Velitchkov’s the one in line at the grill now, he’s our propulsion engineer, part of mission control. Captain Hashim’s mission control too, our flight dynamics officer. She’s the one over at the cornhole boards, those boys are her stepsons. Oh, the man at the table right there under the tree - ”

“Uh, Shiro,” Keith said. “This is - this is a lot of people to keep track of.”

“Right. Sorry, you’re right. Well, hey, if there’s anyone of interest you want me to introduce you to, I will, but set your own pace, all right? If you wanna just eat your chips in peace, that’s fine too.”

“Thank you.” Keith dipped a chip into the baked beans on his plate, munching on it as he glanced around at the gathered guests. Already he had forgotten every name Shiro had just told him, and the faces crowded around the yard were blurring together in his mind until they all looked the same. He shook his head, focusing on his food as Shiro chattered with a couple of other Garrison staff who came by the table. He nodded each time Shiro introduced him, but that was the only contribution he made to the conversations.

The meal was able to pass easily that way until one officer asked to borrow Shiro from the table, wanting to introduce him to his young daughter who apparently wanted to be an astronaut some day and was a very ardent Shiro fan. Shiro flashed Keith an apologetic smile as he got up. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” he said.

Keith nodded and waved him away, but the meal didn’t last him the rest of those few minutes, since he was already halfway through his dessert - two of Shiro’s not-homemade brownies - when he left. Once his plate was emptied, he sat at the table, unsure of what to do next. The people seemed louder when Shiro wasn’t next to him, the yard smaller and the smoke from the grill thicker.

He swung his legs for half a minute, thinking of tracking Shiro down and dragging him back over, but thought better of it. There were things to do at the cookout - cornhole boards and a badminton net were set up, and there were plenty of people just talking and laughing to pass the time - but they all required nerves and social energy that Keith simply didn’t have today.

Finally he settled on tracking down that dog and playing with him for a bit, and after scanning the yard, spotted his tail following someone through the back door of the house. Keith stood from his seat, moving to enter the house too, and tried not to draw attention to himself from the few people who had gathered in the kitchen. Instead he looked around for Bae Bae, and went to the stairs when he heard a jingling collar and the sound of paws climbing up the steps.

He hesitated at the bottom of the staircase, wondering if he was invading the Holts’ privacy by going up there, but decided he could at least check to see if the dog was just up in the hallway, not in anyone’s room. So he followed up the stairs and spotted Bae Bae. Not in the hall, but through an open doorway, lying on his back in a bedroom with his paws dangling in the air and his tongue flopped out, seemingly waiting for a belly rub. The other occupant of the room, though, hadn’t seemed to have noticed him there, since she had headphones on and was concentrating on what appeared to be some sort of fantasy MMO on the computer screen. Katie, Keith remembered, that’s what her name was.

And even though she hadn’t noticed anyone else around, Bae Bae did, and he rolled over, wagging his tail at the sight of Keith and letting out a bark. Katie jumped a little in her seat, lowering her headphones and turning around. “Uh,” she said. “If you’re looking for the bathroom, it’s the next door over.”

“No, I, uh - ” Keith cleared his throat. “I was actually just - I was following - ” He gestured toward Bae Bae, suddenly realizing how childish it probably seemed to have left the cookout to focus on following the pet around.

Katie, though, didn’t seem to think much of it, since she just shrugged and gestured him inside. “Go nuts. He likes scratches right behind the ears.”

“Okay.” Keith slowly entered the room and lowered himself to give Bae Bae the scratches, and he thumped his tail and panted eagerly at the petting. Keith glanced back at Katie’s screen. She seemed to be playing as some sort of troll or ogre carrying a hulking maul, and a picture of the character’s face in the top-left corner labeled her as Pidgeotto321 above a half-full health bar. “So, um, what - what are you doing up here?”

“I live here,” Katie answered.

“I mean, up here instead of at the cookout?”

“Oh.” She shrugged again. “I got bored. Been to a lot of these Kerberos things for Matt and Dad. After a while they’re all the same. And I always get the same questions. Oh, are you going to go to the Garrison too, follow in your big brother’s footsteps? Like they think I’m only interested in space to copy him. Or, wow, a whole year without your dad and brother, are you gonna miss them? Yeah, no shit I’m gonna miss them. Still say they could’ve waited a few years to go on this mission, wait until I’m old enough to go too, but…” She trailed off, grimacing. “God, sorry. Didn’t mean to ramble.”

“S’okay,” Keith mumbled.

“Just, ugh.” Katie sighed. “I’m excited for them, I really am, but it’s also kinda like, once the mission’s over and they’re back, it’ll be a relief, you know? Like, it’ll all stop being this big looming thing we gotta all prepare for. You been to many of these event things with Shiro?”

“A couple,” Keith said. “And I, uh, I get it. I’m gonna miss him too.”

Katie let out a little thoughtful hum before removing her headphones all the way and turning in her seat toward him. “So, like, out of curiosity, what are you two anyway?”

“Hm?” said Keith.

“You and Shiro. Are you cousins?”

“Um, no. Did - did he say we were?”

Katie shook her head. “Was just a theory. You look like you might be Japanese too, but not as much as Shiro, so I figured you couldn’t be full brothers, but you could be cousins. Or half-brothers.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m - I might be, I guess.” Keith didn’t actually know his ethnicity. His surname was probably Japanese, and he had seen on some of his social workers’ paperwork in the past that he had been marked down as mixed-race, but that was as specific as it got. His dad had died before Keith even knew what ethnicity was, and so had never asked about it, and of course his mom was just a giant question mark as he didn’t even know what she looked like.

“But you know, um - ” He cleared his throat. “Even if so, it’s not like all Japanese people are related.”

“Well, obviously,” Katie said, rolling her eyes. “But he invited you to a family cookout, right? Just assumed that probably meant you were related somehow. Are you?”

Keith blinked at her. His hand stopped scratching Bae Bae, and the dog nudged him in an attempt to regain his attention, but Keith was too focused on Katie right now to pay any mind. “What do you mean? He said it was a Kerberos cookout.”

“Yeah, for the Kerberos team and their families. That’s what the invitation Mom e-mailed out said. Most everyone else brought their spouses and kids, but obviously you’re not Shiro’s husband or son, so, you know. I was just wondering.”

“Oh. Um, we’re - he’s kind of, um, he helped me with - with applying to the Garrison and stuff, and uh, we - he’s done some, uh - ” He cleared his throat. “You said the bathroom was the next door down?”

“Uh-huh,” Pidge said, frowning. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Keith stood up. “Just, uh, just need to pee, that’s all.”

“Okay. Well, have fun.” She turned back to her computer as Keith left.

He didn’t head to the bathroom, though, and instead went back down the stairs and toward the yard. He didn’t get all the way there, though, because Shiro was in the kitchen, casting Keith a relieved smile at his entrance. “Hey, I was wondering where you ran off to!” His smile receded a bit as he caught Keith’s expression. “Something up?”

“No,” Keith said. “No, um, no, just - just, I was - I didn’t - ”

“Here.” Shiro swooped in to usher him away from the kitchen, where his stammering had started to attract attention, and into the Holts’ living room instead. “Now,” he said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Keith said. “I just, um… why - why didn’t you tell me this was a family cookout?”

Shiro frowned, brows drawing pensively together before slowly asking, “Are… you upset by that?”

“No. Well, I mean, I - I’m not upset, but - but - why am I here?”

“What do you mean?”

“This is supposed to be a family thing. I’m not - I shouldn’t be here. I should go - ”

“Hey, hey,” Shiro said softly. “Keith, it’s okay. It’s fine. I’m sorry, bud, I hadn’t realized that this was going to be distressing for you. I should have asked you ahead of time, if you were comfortable with going to a family event. That’s on me.”

“No, that’s not - why me? You’ve got family. Actual family.”

Shiro’s frown deepened. “Well, uh, my parents are about a ten-hour drive from here. Seems like a long way to travel for one cookout. But Keith - ”

“What about Adam? He’s your fiancé, you should have brought him, you - ”

“Keith, I am sorry. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I just thought…” He let out a breath. “You know, for a long time growing up, I wanted a little brother, and lately, helping you out with school and… well, with everything we’ve been doing, I suppose I’ve started thinking of you as - well, regardless, I’m sorry if that was overstepping your boundaries. If you don’t want me to think of you that way, I won’t. I promise.”

Keith bit his lip, shaking his head. That wasn’t it, it really wasn’t. After all, hadn’t he himself started to look at Shiro that way too? The guy was the perfect role model, had taken Keith under his wing and asked for nothing in return, had been there through every misstep Keith had made as a cadet and every low point, taught him about flying and riding hoverbikes and boxing and life. If Keith pictured the perfect big brother, he pictured Shiro.

But lots of people probably fantasized about having a big brother who was perfect.

People didn’t fantasize about having a little brother who was a needy, reckless screw-up.

“You - you shouldn’t,” Keith choked out. “You should - you should have a really good family. Your family should be really good people.”

“Keith, what do you mean?”

“I mean… you’re Shiro.”

“You’re Keith.”

Keith huffed. “I - I don’t get it. Why do you bother? You’re supposed to - you can do better.”

“Keith - ”

“You’re supposed to save being ‘family’ for people who are related to you. Or - or for - for when people have earned it. You can’t just throw it around like that, it - that’s not how it works. You’re supposed to - ”

He hadn’t realized his throat was tightening up until he choked on his words, and immediately, there were arms around him, and Shiro’s head was on his shoulder, speaking softly in his ear. “God, Keith. You’ve… people have really done a number on you, haven’t they?”

“I - ”

“You don’t have to earn anything from me, okay? I promise Keith. I like you. I like spending time with you, I like teaching you. I like making you feel better when you’re down, I like that you pretend to like my cooking.”

“I like your - ”

“No you don’t, but I like that you’ll lie for me. I like watching you succeed. I like seeing you grow. In my eyes, that makes you family. It’s not some elite class you’ve got to work your way into, Keith. It doesn’t matter what I’m ‘supposed’ to do, that’s not how family works. I don’t have to call you my brother or anything, not if you don’t like it - ”

“I, um,” Keith said softly, “I didn’t - I didn’t say I don’t like it. I’m just…”

“Not ready for it?”

“... I dunno?”

Shiro nodded. “That’s okay. That’s your call. But don’t you ever think that it’s not something you deserve, Keith. Don’t ever think that. Because it’s not true, not one bit.”

Keith nodded, sniffing before mumbling, “Okay.”

Shiro gave him a firm pat on the back before pulling out of the hug. “Now,” he said. “Matt was outside a few minutes ago, and he thinks he and Sam can beat the two of us at cornhole. You up for helping me crush his self-esteem?”

“Uh-huh,” Keith said, giving Shiro a hesitant smile.

“Attaboy. Come on, we’ll let him know we’re ready.”

He wrapped his arm around Keith’s shoulders and steered him back toward the kitchen, and as he did, Keith cleared his throat. “Um, Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

“If - if you wanna call me your brother, just, every once in a while - so I can, um, maybe test it out, see if I can get used to it - that, uh… that’d be okay, I think.”

Shiro grinned. “Will do, little brother.”

[pattonsperfectfamily-asks]

Chapter 14- A Very Long Goodbye Chapter from Mod Iva

Masterpost

TW: past stalking (so much. so. much.), nonconsensual recording, crying, forcing someone to hit someone else, r slur, mention of almost forced contact, pushing someone into water, past kidnapping, murder, torture, flashback, breaking into someones house, brainwashing, electrocution

“98.2!” Patton cheers as he pulls the thermometer out of Damien’s mouth. “Now you’re all better!”

Damien sniffles, forcing his head down, his glare aimed passively at the floor. “I wouldn’t have gotten sick if you hadn’t been an idiot and put Virgil in the damn ice bath.”

“Don’t be rude to your father.” Logan scolds, watching the angry look in Patton’s eyes as he pulled Damien closer to him. “And we do not swear in this household.”

“Ohh what, so you’re fucking brainwashed as well?” Damien snaps. “You know, Virgil is one thing, but you’re a grown-ass adult. What’s your excuse?”

Logan froze, tears welling up in his eyes. “I-”

“Punish him,” Patton says curtly. “Do it. Damien, your father is going to punish you for talking back and swearing.”

“W-What?” Logan was shaking. “What would you want me t-to do?”

Patton mimes a harsh smack, his eyes cold. “Do it, Bunny. Or we could go into my room to cuddle if you don’t want to…”

Logan’s eyes widen as he faces Damien nervously.

“Really?” Damien snarks. “Maybe you deserve to be here with Patton, seeing how you like bending to his fucking will 24/7.”

“Glasses, now Logan,” Patton said firmly.

“Sush, we’re just cuddling. This could be much worse, couldn’t it Logie?”

“Get in the box Bunny.”

Alex didn’t take his eyes off him.

“Just shut up and go back to sleep,” Alex says forcefully.

“If you tell, well I won’t be able to go back up and give them food,” Patton says cheerfully. “They’d starve up there, and it’d be all your fault.”

“Husbands are supposed to be faithful, Lolo.”

“You won’t be taking this ring off.”

Logan makes a noise in the back of his throat, a mix of a scream and a sob, and slams his hand down on Damien’s face.

Damien drops to the floor and Patton moves over to Logan, wrapping his arm around Logan’s waist. Damien gingerly touches his cheek, looking up at Logan in shock, who hid his face in Patton’s shoulder and sobbed.

“Shh, it’s okay bunny. You’re okay…” Patton presses a kiss to the top of Logan’s forehead, moving to sit him down on the couch.

Roman watched as the sun slowly set.

Dinner had gone quietly, and Damien sat across from Roman on his bed, sitting silently as Roman peered out the window.

“I think Patton will be asleep soon.” Roman muses.

“I hate him.”

“We all hate him, Dami.”

“Not Patton, I loathe him. I hate Logan.”

Roman looked over at Damien in shock. “He didn’t mean to hurt you Dami, you know that.”

“Yes, he did.” Damien crossed his arms, staring at the door, a seething look in his eyes.

“Logan is just hurting,” Roman says quietly. “He’s doing what he thinks is best for his survival. And Damien, if you hadn’t noticed, it’s working. You shouldn’t have sworn at Patton.”

“But I-”

“No.” Roman cuts Damien off with a shake of his head. “You need to control your attitude around Patton. You know how he’s like, if you act like a happy kid, he won’t bother you. He’s not the problem here.”

“Jason’s only a problem for you,” Damien mutters.

“That’s not fair. That’s not fair, and you know it, Damien.” Roman says quietly. “Patton only bothers you because you argue with him, Jason hurts me no matter what I do. You could ignore Patton for the most part, you just chose not too.”

“Because I’m supposed to be in college right now!” Damien protests, “Which, by the way, I had to work for all summer because I missed most of high school because I was kidnapped by a sociopath!”

“We’ll escape,” Roman says quietly. “We did it before.”

“We got rescued. When we were in the state we were taken from, and in a house that Patton owned.” Damien argues. Roman hides his head in his hands.

“Let’s just go, they should be asleep by now.”

Damien begrudgingly grabs the flashlight they had taken, and carefully follows Roman out into the hallway.

“The closets the only place he could hide something…Besides the basement.” Roman shudders, quietly opening the door and beginning to pull boxes out.

Damien shines the light for him as he opens the first box and began to rifle through the contents.

Inside was a small photo album, which Roman grabs and sets aside. “Old receipts…But they’re from all over America…Some pins…A children’s book, maybe we could convince Patton to give that to Remus? Some old glass figures…barbies…”

Roman gasped, hurriedly grabbing a camcorder and holding it to his chest. “Hurry, help me put this stuff back.”

Damien and Roman quickly shove the box back into the closet and hurry back to Roman’s room, the photo album, and camcorder in their hands.

“So what exactly are we looking for?”

“Maybe one of the pictures will have an address or a map. Something to tell us more of where exactly we are.” Roman says hopefully.

“Sure.” Damien rolled his eyes, beginning to flip through the pages. “There’s just normal pictures of small Jason, and what I’m assuming is his family. This one has Jason and that priest that’s also named Jason…And here’s one with Patton, Amelia, Jason, the other Jason, and Alex. All of them together.”

Roman shuddered at the reminder of Alex, looking at the photo curiously.

The five kids, around twelve, sat together in a treehouse, their arms around each other’s waist. Patton, priest Jason, and Amelia all had big smiles on their faces, but Jason and Alex looked like they were plotting something. In the back, a smaller figure with long hair and a blurred face laid curled up.

“They look like they were in a club.” Roman hums. “Who’s the girl in the back…?”

Damien shrugs, turning on the camcorder and going to the back of the gallery, to the first ever video.

“Here she is! Little Miss Amelia, all done with her initiation!” A female voice from off-camera spoke, and Amelia giggled, clumsily curtsying.

“Doesn’t she look gorgeous!” Another female voice compliments. “You two are so lucky!”

“Amelia, say hello to the video.” A male voice prompts.

The young Amelia tugged at one of her braids. “Hello.”

“Do you know why we’re filming?” The first female asks. Amelia pauses, her face falling as she shook her head.

“We’re filming this to celebrate darling! One last little test, alright?”

“Okay, Daddy!” Amelia smiles once more, and the camera shakes as it’s set down on a table.

An older woman appears in the frame, her hair and eyes dark, wearing a fancy silver dress. “Go ahead and sit down Amelia.”

Amelia sits across from the mother, her legs kicking slightly as she smoothed out her pink dress.

“Amelia,” The man rummaged in a box and held out a photograph. “Do you know who this is?”

Amelia peered at the man and woman in the photo closely. “No.”

“Do you know any girls at your school named Sarah Jonas?” The mother prompts.

“No.” Amelia giggles.

“What’s your full name?” The woman offscreen asks.

“Amelia Marie Lebent.” Amelia says with a little nod of her head.

The mother and father beam and the video ends.

Roman stares down at the frozen screen in confusion, worry growing in the pit of his stomach. “This belonged to Amelia’s family…?”

“But why were they asking her what her name was?” Damien asks. “Was she in an accident?”

Roman looks at Damien, deciding not to build off of anything, and instead playing the next video.

“Look! It’s huge!” A young Patton struggles to hold up a fish to the camera, his fishing pole knocking off his bucket hat.

“Careful!” The offscreen voice of a young Alex snaps as Amelia grabs Patton’s hat and puts it back on his head.

The group of kids were on a boat in the middle of a lake, a town in the distance.

“Mummy said we had to come home soon.” Amelia pouts, looking seasick as she tried to read her book amongst the chaos on the boat.

“Look at my fish!” Patton appears in front of the camera again, holding up the same trout.

“You already showed us the damn fish, stupid.” A young Jason snaps.

“Isn’t it cool?!” Patton asks excitedly, showing it again to Jason.

“Patton, you have to put the fish in the cooler, remember buddy?” Priest Jason says gently, guiding Patton off-screen.

“Patton! Come'ere, lookit this!” Alex says excitedly. From behind the camera, Jason snickers.

“What?!” Patton practically trips over his own feet as he rushes to Alex’s side of the boat.

“Look, do you see that fish, it looks like a shark!”

“Really?!” Patton hurriedly bends over the side of the boat.

Alex quickly pushes Patton in, who falls with a big splash.

“Alex!” Amelia yells, snapping her book closed and jumping up. She and priest Jason hurry to the side of the boat where Patton was pushed, while Alex and Jason laugh.

“It’s not my fault his parents fried his brain and made him a r*tard!” Alex laughs as Patton surfaces.

“You’re so funny!” Patton laughs, looking panicked. “Can I come back on the boat now…I don’t wanna get bit by a shark…”

“There’s no shark.” Priest Jason reassures him as he, Amelia, and Alex pull Patton back onto the boat. “We’re on the lake. Sharks are in oceans.”

Patton shivers. “Can we go home now?” He asks, his voice small. His entire chest was shaking.

The video ended.

"He deserved it.“ Damien had laughed when Patton fell in, but Roman simply looked horrified at the video. "What?”

Roman’s mouth stayed open in shock as he played the next video.

A girl with brown hair was on the screen.

“She looks like the girl from the picture…” Roman notices.

“What’s your name?” The mother from the first video asks.

“…Olivia…” The girl can’t even manage to get out her last name as a button is pressed. She writhes around in front of the camera, sweat pouring down her face as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“Your name is Valerie, say it!” Amelia orders, marching over to the girl. “Say it! Your my sister Valerie!”

“That’s enough Amelia. Come back over here please.”

Amelia quickly complies as the girl tries to catch her breath.

“I…I want to go h-” She cuts off with another scream.

The video cut off, and they began again, now outside, where Patton and priest Jason peeked out from inside a large hole in the ground.

“Get out boys.” A man demands.

“But we’re playing Pop!” Priest Jason complains.

“This is a funeral! Out!” A woman says firmly. The two boys groan and pull themselves out.

“I still want a sister.” Amelia’s voice says from off-camera. Amelia’s dad appears in frame, holding Olivia’s body.

“We can try again next year darling, mummy can’t invest in another one right now.” Amelia’s voice says.

The man lays the girl down in the hole and begins shoveling the dirt back in as the camera moves to face a small seated crowd.

“That’s why I tell you, you go younger. My Alex never gave me any problems.” A woman holding a toddler in overalls says to Amelia’s mother.

The mother sips at her champagne in thought. “I don’t know, I think we might have only the one.”

“But I want a sister!” Amelia protests again.

“Daddy will get you a pony instead darling.” Amelia’s father promises.

“I already have a pony. I need a sister to play with.” Amelia pouts. “I’m the only girl except for baby Madeline.”

“Madeline won’t be a baby forever, and you have fun playing with your cousins.” The mother waves offhandedly, taking another sip of champagne.

The video ended.

“They…They tortured her…” Damien gasps. “Ohh my god she was Virgil’s age and they fucking killed her!”

“I think Alex said they did that to Patton too…I think they did that to all of them…” Roman switches to the next video, before gasping.

“Careful!” The camera shakes and then straightens out, zooming in on a thirteen-year-old Roman and Remus, playing together in the river.

“Sorry, dad,” Fourteen-year-old Patton says quietly, laughing when Remus shoved Roman under the water.

Roman spits water in his brother’s face in retaliation.

Roman switches to the next video, cutting off Patton’s voice.

“Look, Virgil, I borrowed this camcorder from my friend!” Twenty-four-year-old Patton says, pushing it closer so that Virgil’s face took up the entire screen.

The five-year-old giggled, gently pushing the camera back.

“Can you show me your drawing?” Patton asks.

Virgil carefully grabs the blue piece of construction paper, showing the camera. “Isa puppy!”

“It’s so good!” Patton praises, “You did such a good job Virgey!”

Virgil giggles, bouncing in place. “When Kai an mommy an daddy gonna get bac’?”

“Don’t be silly Virgey, your dad’s right here!” Patton says cheerfully.

Virgil giggles. “You na my daddy Pat-Pat! You my fwend!”

“Aww!” Patton shifts the camera, holding it away as he quickly came into view, kissing Virgil over and over on the head, which made the boy giggle. “I love being your friend, baby!”

The video ended.

“I feel sick,” Damien says quietly. “That video…It’s creepy, I don’t want to watch anymore…”

“They’ve been watching us this whole time…Patton knew about Remus and me since we were thirteen, maybe sooner.” Roman hid his head in his hands. “Holy fuck…We have to get out of here.”

Damien stands, backing towards the door. “I’m going to bed…I…I can’t finish watching…”

He hurriedly leaves, and Roman skips a few of the videos of Patton babysitting Virgil, his heart sinking when he saw Damien on one.

“Just ignore the camera.” Patton encourages.

“I don’t think I can-”

“No you’ll be great! I have to document this!” Patton laughs. “C'mon Dami, you’re so talented.”

Damien looks up at Patton then nods, blowing out a slow breath of air as he placed his fingers over the piano keys.

The video plays silently as Damien plays a classical piece, Patton cheering loudly at the end. “You did so good kiddo! You could win the competition next week!”

“Competition?” Damien looks up, confused.

“That must have been a few days before the first kidnapping…” Roman says to himself.

A quiet creak sounds from the hallway and Roman covers his mouth, hoping whoever was in the hall wouldn’t be Jason, and wouldn’t open his door.

Footsteps pad down the outside, and suddenly stop.

Roman’s door swings open, and Logan stares in at him.

“Why are you still up?” Logan asks, suddenly noticing the camcorder, “Where did you get that?”

“Why are you still up?” Roman asks as Logan sits next to him on the bed. “And why are you upstairs?”

“I couldn’t sleep after what I did to Damien…” Logan looks down in shame, fighting back tears. “I came up to apologize…But I couldn’t do it…What are you doing with a camcorder?”

Roman looked miserable at the question, holding the camcorder out to Logan and switching to the next video.

“Is that me?”

Roman grabs it back and looks. Sure enough, you could see Logan from through a window next to a door leading into his old classroom.

Roman plays the video.

A few moments pass in silence as Patton zooms in on Logan, seemingly grading papers.

“We’ve known each other so long…” Patton says wistfully. “I…Today I’m gonna do it!” He hurriedly moves away from the door and heads down a hallway. “We’re the only one’s that teach on this side of the building…I’ll just run into him, and he can help me pick up my stuff!”

The video ended.

The next video played.

Patton zoomed in through a window, the camera shaky.

Logan, maybe seventeen years old, sat down at a table with his family, eating with one hand and reading a book with the other.

“Ohh my god.” Logan chokes back a sob.

The next video played.

Fifteen-year-old Logan laid fast asleep in his bed, and the camera stayed on him for a minute before Patton began walking around the room.

“He likes science, and the planets, and pluto!” Patton giggles quietly, gently touching Logan’s space poster. “His favorite food is Crofter’s jam, and we’re going to have it every day on toast for breakfast!”

Patton returns to Logan’s bed and gently kisses him on the forehead. “I promise Bunny. We’re gonna have the most perfect little house, and kids and my brother Roman is gonna live with us!”

Logan stifled a sob, silent tears rolling down his face. “Ohh gods and goddesses…He…He ran into me on purpose…He snuck into my bedroom…Roman, he could have done anything when I was asleep, what if he-!”

Roman wrapped his arms around Logan, doing his best to comfort him. “We have to get out of here. I…I always just thought I was in the wrong place at the wrong time…Fuck…I never should have let him sit with me at the damn cafe!”

Logan sniffed, pressing the button to start the next recording.

Logan, only seven, sat on the swings at the park, reading a book and lazily kicking his feet.

“Are you sure Patton?” Patton’s mother asks, looking down at Patton. Patton smiles up at the camera.

“Yeah! I really really love him, Mama!” The boy giggled, and Jason shoved him lightly.

“Patton’s got a cr-ush, Patton’s got a cr-ush!” Amelia sand teasily. Alex said nothing, simply stared ahead at Logan deviously.

Patton went red. “Stop it!” He whined. “Mama, please can he be my husband when I’m big?”

“Of course love, whatever you want. Only the best for you.” She says. Patton beams.

“We’re gonna get married and live happily ever after!” Patton sighs happily.

“Only if you do what I say love, adults are tricky.” The mother reminds him. “You must go slow.”

“But he’s gonna love me forever and ever?” Patton asks innocently.

“Of course.” His mother repeats.

The video ended.

“I-” Logan choked up, staring at the ending screen. “At least he wasn’t in my room, right?”

Roman smiles sadly. “Yeah. I don’t think he did anything. I think that was the only time he went in your house.”

Roman shuts the camcorder off before Logan can look through the rest of the obsessive stalking videos, hiding it under his bed and turning to Logan.

“Why don’t we make a plan, okay Logan?” Roman says gently. “We’ll do that, but first you have to be very brave and go sleep with Patton, okay?”

“Okay…” Logan nods.

Roman stares up at him sadly as Logan stood. “Goodnight, Logan.”

“Goodnight…” Logan whispers. “R-Roman…Can you do something for me?”

“Of course.” Roman nods. “Anything, what?”

Logan hurriedly sat down and stared Roman in the eyes for a few seconds, pulling Roman into a tight hug, Logan chokes out a “Goodnight Remus” before crying more and hurrying downstairs.

Words: 3150

Taglist

@jasondeanstwin

@kai-the-person

@the-insanelycoolmylesoliver

@no-no-no-no-6

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@theoddkidnextdoor

[niall-is-my-dream]

Something Beautiful - Part Five

So I'm not 100% happy with this but here it is anyway.

Sorry I've been such a shit with updating this, lockdown has meant no time for myself. Let me know what you think!

catch up below

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/615170836129808384/something-beautiful-masterlist

2815 words

Summer had passed in a blur of pure contentment. However Niall was in L.A. again and you were missing him. Since he began writing his second album, he had been bouncing between London and L.A. All the main writing had happened for it but he still needed to do a lot of work. He had been trying to do as much of it in London so that he could see family and friends more frequently especially over the summer, but it wasn't always possible.

Work at the publishing company had been busy and you'd had a lot of deadlines to adhere to. This was what was keeping you busy and stopping you from thinking about Niall too much. You hated the fact that you felt a little lost without him. You had spent a lot of time together in London and in that time you'd met his family and he yours, you'd had dinners together, late afternoon walks with Monty. And it was on one of those walks that you had been spotted together for the first time.

It had happened quite unexpectedly on a cool August evening, Niall had been walking around Wandsworth Common with you and Monty. Because of the heat you'd taken Monty out in the evening when it was cooler and still light. You'd been trying to avoid the lake in case Monty chased the ducks again, when a couple of girls aged around eighteen approached him. He had spotted them early on as soon as you had crossed over the bridge, it was like he had a weird ability to sense when he was being watched by someone, you guessed it came with experience.

The first you realised it was when they were right in front of you, although it did explain why Niall had distanced himself from you. You hadn't given it a second thought when he had moved his arm from around your shoulders. But it was because he knew someone was watching him and it was his way of protecting you from whoever that person was.

They eyed you up as they approached him, Monty came running over and dropped his ball at Niall's feet as if taking ownership of him. You loved the fact that Monty even as a young pup could show his protective side. The girls cooed over Monty as well as Niall and you found yourself being incredibly jealous.

Niall was such a sweetheart to the girls, they asked for a photo each and took interest in how his album was coming along. After initially scoping you out they paid no attention to you and you were thankful for it.

It was later that evening that Niall saw the initial speculation about who you were. Twitter had erupted with "who is the girl with the cute dog?" That phrase was fine by you, it could've been worse. There wasn't really any bad comments from what you could both see.

But the girls had managed to catch a sneaky picture of Niall with his arm around your shoulders. One where he was pulling you close to him and kissing your temple. It definitely looked a bit more than just friends apparently to his army of fans.

Luckily you didn't have your own Twitter or even Facebook. You did have an Instagram account but that was private and Niall didn't follow you anyway. Hopefully you could remain anonymous for as long as possible.

And now with Niall being back in L.A. the speculation about who you were was dying down. Niall had been monitoring it via Tara his PA, she was his eyes and ears when it came to gossip about him. She would make sure that if he was being talked about somewhere online then she was in the loop about it.

The beginning of September remained warm and you'd got the patio doors of your flat open to the garden. Monty was chilling out of the grass with a toy, your music blaring through your old record player. You were in the kitchen area prepping some dinner when a FaceTime call from Niall came through.

Upon hearing Nialls voice, Monty came bounding into the kitchen and jumped up at you.

"Woah Monty, wait your turn!" You said smiling.

Monty was circling your legs and wanting to be a part of whatever was going on, you knew he had heard Niall and was obviously missing him.

"Monty!" Niall called and Monty let out a little bark.

You slowly turned the phone around to face Monty, he nudged his face at the screen as Niall talked to him.

"You being good for your Mum?" He asked him.

You laughed a little at his conversation and at Monty who was staring at Niall with fascination.

"Right Monty, it's my turn. You go chill in your bed. Go on." You said and Monty wandered off to his bed that was by the end of the sofa. He sat in it but didn't take his eyes off you or your phone.

"I swear he loves you more than me." You muttered.

"He only loves me because I give him lots of treats."

"I'm aware!" You replied. "He's due his check up next week at the Vets so they will weigh him. He better not be piling on the pounds Horan!"

"Sorry." Niall replied laughing.

It was then that you saw he was sprawled out in bed, the crisp white sheets barely covering his torso.

"Did you just wake up?" You said seeing the clock said 6:45pm meaning it was 10:45am in L.A.

"Yeah, was at the studio till late. Just trying to decide what to do today, need to go to the gym at some point."

"I've only just finished work so am grabbing some dinner before I take Monty for a walk. It's been warm again today."

"Work busy?"

"Mmm have finally finished the edit that I've been working on for like three weeks. More assignments coming my way tomorrow."

"Any chance you could take some holiday or maybe work from a different location?"

"Possibly why?"

"I know I said I was probably coming back next week but I've got some interviews and stuff booked in now and they want to bring the single release forward by two weeks."

"That's amazing that they want to bring it forward and have got so much promo booked in for you. But won't that mean you'll be busy, why are talking about holiday time?"

"Because I wondered if you wanted to come over here for a bit?"

He wanted you to stay at his place in L.A?

Your mind was running a million miles an hour at how this would work. Would your boss allow you holiday or to work in a different time zone? Did you have any UK meetings booked in soon? What would you do with Monty?

"Niall...." You said carefully.

"I'm sorry I know it's a big ask. I just don't want to be apart anymore, I'll be here for at least another month."

"I would love to come and stay with you but.... "

"But?" He said looking slightly heartbroken.

"I can't leave Monty here, I have no one to have him for that amount of time. I can't ask Charlotte and Luke, they have a lot on with the wedding and everything."

"Alex, I meant Monty to."

You looked at him then as the realisation of what he was saying set in.

"I can't put him in a hold on the plane, I'm sorry." You said reluctantly. You knew animals were well cared for on flights but you couldn't even bare to think about leaving him alone like that in a strange place. He might have been two years old but he was still your baby.

"You won't need to. Tara is coming out in 10 days time and I can arrange a private plane for you, her and Monty. Rules aren't the same on a private chartered flight, he can sit with you for the entire time. Just need to get a letter from the Vets to confirm he's had all relevant vaccinations and is in good health."

"He could?"

"Yeah, look I know it's incredibly selfish of me to ask you to travel like that. I know your work and stuff is important to you.... I just miss you both so much. Can you have a think about it for a day or two and let me know?"

"It's so expensive to hire a plane...."

"Its not that bad."

"Small change for you hey?!" You smirked.

"Shut up, you make me sound like a right flash bastard." He smirked back.

There was silence for a moment while you took in the view in front of you, a topless Niall lying in bed. You missed him like crazy and you were sure you were due some holiday. You'd worked the last three months non stop. Would Monty be ok on the plane? He would probably love it and when he saw Niall straight after and he would know why he had taken the journey.

"Email me the details and I'll speak to my boss."

And that was how you found yourself sitting on a private plane with Niall's Assistant Tara and Monty on the way to L.A.

You hadn't had to organise anything for the journey apart from Monty's documents from the vets. Your boss has been so pleased with your work that she had said yes to some holiday straight away. Agreeing to take a week off work two weeks via L.A. And then have another week off before you returned home. She hasn't asked why you were going to L.A, and you hadn't disclosed it. Keeping this private was what you'd agreed to when Niall and you had decided to make things official, and you were fine with that. 

*****

The sunrise across Hollywood was beautiful, you could see why Niall chose to split some of his time here and London. Since arriving in L.A. a week ago you'd begun taking Monty out in the mornings.

You and Niall had dragged your bums out of bed early to avoid walking Monty later in the heat of the day. Monty needed walking early today not only because of the weather but because Niall had planned a bbq at his with some of his friends for you to meet. This was a big deal to you, as you really wanted them to like and accept you.

So here you were watching the sunrise with Monty sitting at your feet and Nialls arms wrapped around you. His face snuggled into your neck and the tender kisses he was giving you were giving you all sorts of feels. You didn't think anything to swipe that smile off your face, that was until Niall tensed behind you.

"You ok?" You whispered gently.

"Mmmm, just feel like we are being watched." He replied as he lowered his arms, he had been right the last time he had felt like that.

You turned to face him as he casually looked around the area where you had chosen to stop.

"For fucks sake." He mumbled.

Turning himself back to you, his body was flush with yours but his arms didn't wrap themselves back around you.

"Is someone watching us then?" You asked quietly.

"Yep, bloke with a fucking massive camera sitting in his car across the road. What the fuck is he doing out this bloody early?"

"Don't worry about it." You said reaching to stroke his arm to calm him. You may not be able to see his face but his body against yours was still tense.

"Come on, let's head home." He said as he turned and took your hand in his.

"Should we be holding hands?" You whispered.

"I feel like he's been watching us long enough, no point hiding it now." Niall replied sounding deflated.

You walked back to Niall's making small talk, but you could tell that the photographer seeing you both had rattled him. He had mentioned about wanting to keep things private, you had no intention on posting photos of him on your social media which actually only consisted of Instagram. And even then you really only posted pictures of your trips away and of Monty being cute. You couldn't imagine any of his fans remotely finding that interesting or using it to find a reason to hate you. Monty was cute.

Back in the safety of Niall's house, he let Monty off his lead and he scurried off towards the other end of the house where Mully's room was.

"Off to sleep at the end of Uncle Mully's bed again I see?!" Niall commented as Monty went out of sight.

"I know I feel slightly offended that he prefers Mully and you to me at the moment."

"What can I say Man is a dog's best friend!" He smirked back.

"Yeah whatever!" You smirked back.

"Well since we are all alone now, how about we go shower and I make you feel good?" He said as he pulled you close to his body. You loved it when he snuggled into your neck, his breath sending chills down your body.

"Do we have time?" You said, aware that his friends were coming over in a few hours and you both still needed to go to the supermarket and get some things sorted.

"We always have time for nakedness love." He whispered before whisking you upstairs.

*********

Monty was passed out at your feet while you chopped some salad for lunch, seems he did love his Mum still. He might have been an outgoing and lively dog, but he did get shy around lots of new people all at once. You were joined in the kitchen by Courtney who was a friend of Niall's, she was really sweet and had asked about your job and stuff. She got married a few months ago and so you talked about that and Charlotte and Luke's wedding that was happening in the next few month's.

"Hey Monty, what's up with you boy?" Niall asked as he came in from the terrace into the kitchen and crouched beside you.

"Think he's a little tired from messing around earlier with Mully in the garden and probably a bit shy from all the new people. No offense Courtney!" You replied.

"None taken." She said smiling genuinely.

"You want to come and sit in the shade with your Da?" Niall asked him and you paused, looking across at Courtney who's eyes were wide like yours. "I'll take him outside." Niall said to you. "I'm in the shade by the BBQ getting it warmed up."

You nodded a reply and carried on chopping the tomatoes, knowing that Courtney was going to say something as soon as Niall was out of earshot.

Niall reached down and beckoned Monty to follow him which he did and he walked happily with Niall back out onto the terrace.

"So....." Courtney said looking at you with a massive smile on your face.

"Sooo?!" You replied.

"You two are the sweetest! Did he really just refer to himself as Monty's Dad?! I love that! I have never seen him this happy." She said and she gave your arm a tender squeeze.

"He's never said it before, he always calls him his boy and stuff." You replied blushing.

"I tell you my heart right now is racing at how much I love this!"

"Do you think it's moving too fast? We've only known each other since January."

"Have you met each other's parents?"

"Yes."

"Has he told you he loves you?"

"Yes." You replied trusting her with the information you were giving her.

"Have you talked about moving in together?"

"No."

"I think you're fine. I knew after about four months of dating Sam that I was going to marry him. Everything is just exciting but comfortable and relaxed at the same time."

"Yeah that's exactly it." You said, amazed that she had read your situation so easily.

"Niall and I have spoken about you a bit while he's been here. Nothing personal! " She added quickly when she saw a look of horror on your face. "Just that he thinks things are so easy with you, in a good way. You seem to know when you both need your own time but also that when you're together it's fun, exciting and you're so normal it's refreshing. Honestly his last girlfriend was hard work!"

You laughed then.

"Thanks for saying that, I really hope everyone likes me today."

"I think everyone already does, we've never seen him this happy. Thank You for giving him back his spark."

You felt choked up at her words, the enormity of your relationship and how much he meant to you was really hitting home. And what made you feel the shivers right down to your toes was that you weren't scared of it.

Tag list

@ihearthemcallingforyou​

@mariamorris913​

[nosdreamsrp]

                     › THE MEMBER GROUPS

The member groups found on nostalgic dreams are based on popular fashion brands that you see many wearing on social media. We have four different tiers ( standard, premium, elite & diamond ) and each tier has four different brands within it. Down below you will find our sixteen member groups with traits and simple aesthetics so everyone has an easy fit for their characters!

standard member groups

quirky › uncouth › curious › forgetful

skateboarding or skating in free time › late nights on the beach › blastoff by internet music › chain smoking cigarettes › dirty and torn vans › messy hair › monster energy drinks › winged eyeliner › choppy bangs › sunflower by post malone › white tees x denim jeans › cliff diving at night › bucket hats › cross body fanny packs › reflective colors › flower snapchat filter › sleeping through alarms › fades into the background

irrational › playful › mischievous › bold

strong cologne and perfume › baby showers › strappy heels › bad and boujee by migos › gold grills › natural makeup › straight hair › timberland boots › late night breakfast spots › red hues for accents › suede material › hennessy black › denim x neutral colors › kickback with friends › at fault by medasin & felly › patterns › frappes from starbucks › broken promises › curiosity killed the cat › not so trusting

socially aware › lazy › adventurous › fanatical

all white attire › eating cereal for dinner › going shopping with friends › setting multiple alarms › red bull and vodka › curly hair › frequent visits to art galleries › hoodies and cargos › yamborghini high by a$ap mob › sight-seeing for photo-ops › simple jewelry › hot girl bummer by blackbear › wispy lashes › gold caps › amusement parks on the weekend › rhetorical questions › always the peace makers › cool and comfortable

bourgeoisie › idealistic › know-it-all › persistent

picnics in the park › always has an opinion about something › good as hell by lizzo › chunky sneakers › braided pony-tails › attends charity events › always has a plan › text back in 2 to 3 business days › blazers and combat boots › blurred lines by robin thicke › coffee in the morning › dark hues of color › too smart for their own good › obsessed with coordinating › lover of vanilla scents › minimalistic jewelry

premium member groups

optimistic › selfish › discreet › inconsistent

oversized tees › inconsistent actions › hustle & flow by zaehd & ceo › reads newspaper comics › caffeine over sleep › cross-body bags › social loners › too cool for school › walking snapple facts › where’s my juul?? by full tac & lil mariko › layers clothing › black as an accent › love the smell of flowers › rolled up jeans x thick socks › triple texters › tiny sunglasses › lover of music festivals › fishnet material

manipulative › go-getters › frivolous › spontaneous

clubbing on the weekends › flashing cash in pictures › designer from head to toe › said sum by moneybagg yo › headband accessories › bright color accents › quick money schemes › night owls › face tattoos › oversleeping in the mornings › imma by bbno$ & lentra › prefers facetime over phone calls › silk & satin material › always in large crowds › woodsy and earthy scents › overflow of gold jewelry

nature-focused › oversensitive › cautious › self-indulgent

bonfires on the beach › loose and flowy clothing › too many pillows on the bed › rollin by calvin harris, future and khalid › early nights & mornings › organized planners and journals › brunch on the weekends › straw and fringe material › tiny handbags › vacationing on islands › coffee bean by zaniah › bitter and zesty flavors › beach curls or waves › green is serene › million dollar smiles › dewy skin

temperamental › confident › melodramatic › witty

flavored swishers › jewelry anklets › basketball and football › loads of unread messages › fresh hairstyles › sum 2 prove by lil baby › late night drives › hip hop music on repeat › gamer heads › always texting, never calling › vodka drinkers › durags and dad caps › whats poppin by jack harlow › sleeping in on weekends › wears sunglasses inside › life of the party › knock knock jokes › wake and bakes

elite member groups

whimsical › spoiled › empathetic › irresponsible

their way or the highway › falling asleep on the phone › indecisive about life › dunkin donuts over starbucks › dior by pop smoke › lace and mesh material › 90’s aesthetics › dramatic lashes › easily persuaded › cluttered spaces › layered chains › what they want by russ › takeout over cooking › has a hard time fitting in › mixed prints and patterns › has to be center of attention › silk scarves › floral parfum

judgmental › traditional › evasive › diplomatic

online shopping › distressed jeans › astrology lover › minimalistic vibes › enamel pins and brooches › chanel (go get it) by young thug, gunna and lil baby › handwritten love notes › more logical and practical › hot apple cider with cinnamon › leading the conversation › supalonely by benee & gus dapperton › monochromatic colors › frequents museums › murder mysteries lover › moral sensibility › prefers action over words

meticulous › inconsistent › humble › catty

lover of vintage designers › espresso shots › name plate jewelry › happy by pharrell williams › starts new things but never finish › autumn nights › loves meeting new people › works well under pressure › winged eyeliner › chocolate candy eaters › detailed oriented › instrumental music › cooler than me by mike posner › chunky and platform heels › sand between their toes › loyalty over everything

devious › persuasive › rebellious › flirtatious

take tons of selfies but never post them › bright colors › drinks with umbrellas › snake lovers › demons by drake, fivio foreign and sosa geek › ice cream sundaes › seizes every opportunity › reckless when drunk › smoky eyeshadow › moody by briijean › sweet scents › socks x sandals › drumsticks over flats › compulsive liars › teardrop tattoos › pool party throwers › color blocking aesthetics › impulsive nature

diamond member groups

charming › reserved › innocent › jealous

love diy projects › rom-com lovers › drinking water from a wine glass › my hair free care free › fresh scents › getting caught in the rain › pink matter by frank ocean and andre 3000 › cuddling with a love one › denim on top of denim › blushes easily › singing in the shower › watermelon sugar by harry styles › white button-up shirts › bamboo plants for luck › up before sunrise › mutes the group chats

scatterbrained › imaginative › martyr › resourceful

oversized sunglasses › hard on the outside but mushy on the inside › loves conspiracy theories › would misplace their head if it wasn't attached to their shoulders › mismatched clothing › why don’t i care by gglum › cancelling plans last minute › watching the sun set with friends › sticky and sweet flavors › prefers waking up in the afternoon › thrifted furniture › deep meaningful conversations › earfquake by tyler, the creator › brown and yellow accents

studious › possessive › mature › talkative

hasty when provoked › alternative music › collects artwork and coins › knows more than they should › dream catchers on their walls › read books at coffee shops › bloom by troye sivan › gardens full of produce or flowers › random dance sessions › animal prints › nitro cold brew coffee › parce by maluma and others › speaks in third person › leather watches › whiskey connoisseurs › watches the history channel

volatile › spunky › promiscuous › nurturing

matte black everything › monster by kanye west and others › hidden flasks of liquor › displays public affection › positive vibes only › hot summer nights › drunk texts and voicemails › less clothes the better › champagne showers › late night rendezvous › drunk face by machine gun kelly › full of energy › has an idgaf attitude about life › speeding in traffic › simple silver jewelry › mile high club

[trashfor-imagines]

The Music Series: Haikyū Edition! | 2

21 ft. Oikawa x Reader

Summary: You were always on and off with Oikawa in high school, but it was clear you were in love. However, it was hard knowing you would barely make the top three in his life. Warnings: None, really. A seasoning of angst, for taste. Spoilers: If you’re only caught up on the anime, this story mentions what happens to the characters in the manga after high school and their professional lives.

-

“Toru! There’s a difference between putting volleyball first and just not calling me to say you needed to cancel our date. You straight up didn’t show!” you yelled, tears welling in your eyes. You willed them not to fall. “I know I’m not your number one priority, no one is, but for once can you at least act like you mean it when you say I’m - a - priority?”

He stood there silently in the living room of his apartment feeling small and terrible. He left you waiting in the rain for a date that he wasn’t going to show up to. Again. The coach had extended practice and it didn’t cross his mind to tell you, simply excited to play more. This was the same old fight since high school and he knew he should have known better by now. He had always made volleyball a priority and you honestly didn’t mind - he knew that, but being young and dumb and incapable of communication, he’d always tell everyone you broke up with him because you thought he was obsessed with the sport and not because he was incapable of thinking of others’ needs. Iwaizumi had always told him he was a fool when it came to you and honestly he wished his best friend was there to remind him of what to do to fix this.

“You’ve had so many chances. You don’t respect me and I can’t do this. Call me when you figure out how to dial my number. Or don’t. You probably won’t.”

You slammed the door shut and it absolutely destroyed you to go home alone that night.

 “‘Hit it until it breaks.’ Huh. Just like your relationship,” Takeru snickered at you as he looked at an old sports magazine in the dessert cafe you were at. He found an old interview of Toru in it. “My uncle’s an idiot. I’m sure he’ll call you soon, big sis.”

It’d been two weeks since you broke up with Toru and you’ve heard nothing. Not even a blip on social media. Feeling bad about yourself, combined with the fact it was summer break, you went home to Miyagi for some R&R. You had a few things for Toru’s mom that you’d been collecting so you stopped by to drop it off. Takeru just happened to be staying there for the week and asked if you’d take him out to do something. Now you were sitting at a cafe having kakigori and honestly his company was incredible, despite being almost 11 years younger than you.

“I can’t believe my only friend right now is Toru’s 9 year old nephew,” you sighed softly. Your college friends were busy with their jobs, internships, and extra curricular activities that they hardly had time to sit on a phone call let alone come over to watch you cry over Oikawa Toru for the hundredth time. You weren’t even going to try calling Iwaizumi about it. Last time you asked his childhood best friend to knock some sense into the man, he simply replied back with an upside down smiley face emoji. What the hell did that even mean?

Takeru’s cheeks puffed up and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Hey! I’m almost 10! And I can leave if you’re going to be like that. I swear, you’re just as bad as uncle.”

“Hey. No swearing of anything,” you reprimanded him. “And don’t go.”

“Fine, but only because I like you.”

“So... got a girlfriend yet?” you teased, changing the topic.

“Big sis, I know we Oikawas are good looking, but aren’t you a little old for me?” he deadpanned.

Your face lit up red. “You little brat! I wasn’t asking for me!”

School was starting up next week so you went back after a couple of days home. The Oikawa family actually cried when you told them you were going back, having missed seeing you almost every day like when you were in high school. They were an incredible family with their own quirks who loved each other so much. It was similar to your own.

It was Sunday afternoon and you were cleaning your apartment when you got a phone call from Toru’s mom, asking if you’d talked to her son today.

“No, I’m afraid we still haven’t spoken. Is something wrong? Do I need to get to him?” you asked, panic levels rising in your voice.

“No, no, my sweet daughter. Nothing like that,” she sighed softly. “He should really be the one to tell you this, but Takeru said not a chance. He was drafted as a setter for Club Atlético San Juan today. My son’s going to Argentina.”

You dropped your phone in shock, the noise of it clattering to the floor interrupting your short meltdown. Quickly picking up the phone, you apologized before asking questions. “When is he going? W-what about school? And you and the family?”

‘And me?’ you wanted to ask.

Carefully, you listened to every detail she could give you. Your heart was so heavy you were sure you’d sink to the bottom of the ocean.

Time passed painfully. Days turned to months. Soon it was a new year. Then it was graduation. You started a job as a graphic designer that allowed you to work remotely and you did freelance photography, often shooting for travel magazines. You moved home to Miyagi to live with your parents when you weren’t traveling, cutting out unnecessary expenses. It wasn’t smart to have your own place when you weren’t going to use it for 3/4 of the year. The truth was, life was lonely without Toru around. Sometimes you found your vision blurring with tears whenever your phone pinged as a new article featuring the setter was published, or when you let your mind wander to old memories.

You were in Australia when June came around. Life had been pretty exciting for you since April, picking up a photo journalism job for National Geographic touring Southeast Asia and Australia. You’d briefly gotten away from thoughts of Toru when you received a photo late one night from Iwaizumi of Toru and that cute little tangerine from Karasuno on the beach by a volleyball net. Apparently they ran into each other in Rio

(Y/N): Thanks Iwa. Iwaizumi: Np.

After Australia, you went home for a few weeks before you were on a flight to Bolivia to capture the Uyuni Salt Flat. It didn’t take too long to complete the job and you found yourself sitting in your hotel room and scrolling through Toru’s social media. Selfies on him throwing up peace signs, his teammates, sunsets, food, nothing out of the ordinary filled his feed. You didn’t scroll for long though; photos of the two of you would start appearing.

A notification pinged on your phone and your brows furrowed. It was his birthday tomorrow. Setting down your phone, you packed your bag. You were going home in a few hours.

While waiting for your flight, you wondered if that notification was a sign to call him. You stared at his number, unsure. Was it even his number still? You probably locked and unlocked your phone thirty times before setting it to airplane mode. It was time to board. The almost the entire flight home was sleepless as the need to call him grew and grew.

By the time you made it to Japan with over a day and a half of flying due to inconveniently timed layovers, his birthday was over. You wanted to look at his Instastory to see what he did. It was his 21st birthday. He’d been excited for that one because it meant he could “drink anywhere in the world.”

When you got home you unpacked and went about your day. It was midnight when you went to the rooftop terrace of your parents’ house and sat on one of the couches. You called stared at Toru’s contact photo for thirty minutes before you called, pressing the phone to your ear and waiting.

“(Y/N)?” You bit your lip, words suddenly leaving you. “(Y/N), are you there?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m here. Happy birthday, Toru. Sorry I’m a day late.”

“That’s okay, and thank you. It’s good to hear your voice.” His sounded sweet and gentle. There was a hint of a sleep as well, making you laugh quietly. Definitely partied. Definitely just woke up.

“It’s good to hear yours as well. So how was it? Turning 21.” You pinched your thigh out of nervousness.

“It was nice. My teammates took me out to a club. Definitely drank too much and stayed up later than I should have. Iwa would have been pissed.” There was a playfulness in his tone.

“Wow, wish I had been there.”

“Me too, (Y/N). I’m sure you would have done something cooler though. You’re really good at that stuff.”

You laughed lightly, “Well, you know me. I definitely already had a plan for your 21st when you turned 20.”

He laughed as well, boyish and familiar. “Really? What was your plan then?”

“I’d have thrown you a surprise party; invited Iwaizumi and your old teammates, our friends from college. The theme would have been Around the World. I would have set up a photo booth. We’d have drinks from different countries to try, play different drinking games, and dress like tourists.” Your vision began to blur and your voice wavered. “We’d stay up so late that-” You stopped mid sentence, covering your mouth with your hand as you tried to swallow your sobs.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” He sounded so concerned it killed you.

Sniffling, you wiped at your eyes furiously. “No. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too. My whole family’s been on me since we... You know. They call me all the time to tell me what you’re up to and where you’re going next. They really love your postcards and little souvenirs. Seriously... Thanks for looking over them.”

“Of course. I mean, your mom calls me daughter,” you laughed sadly.

“Yeah, she does, doesn’t she.” He paused and the conversation lulled for a moment. Clearing his throat, he spoke up again, “I’ll be home next week if you’re in Miyagi. It’s just a quick visit.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” You had so much more you wanted to say, but you wished him good night instead.

“Good night.”

Days passed and you wondered when he’d be home. You hadn’t heard from him since that phone call and you weren’t going to bother the Oikawas over this. His original plan was probably to come home and see his family. You only became a part of it because you called him. You had to be patient. If you fit into his plans, then you fit into them. You couldn’t force it.

It was Saturday morning when the doorbell rang. You were still in your pajamas when you answered the door, speechless to see Toru standing there with your favorite flowers in his hand. He smiled wide. “Let’s go out, (Y/N).”

Letting him in, you told him to make himself at home while you got ready. It didn’t take you long as you put together a cute new outfit you’d gotten the other day in town. Applying light make up, you checked your hair before heading downstairs.

The two of you walked into town, going to a cafe that you both often frequented throughout high school. He ordered your usual and it was a small crumb of relief to know that he still remembered something as trivial as a drink order. The two of you sat quietly, hands cradling cups, observing each other and taking your appearances. You'd both evolved in over a year. Toru had always been capable of being serious if need be, but his default settings were usually stuck at high school drama queen levels. He was definitely more mature and he’d always been attractive, but he oozed sex appeal right now and you wondered if it was because you were already biased towards him. No, you knew what it was. He had more confidence.

“I guess I should explain what happened. I called Iwaizumi that night after you left. He was pissed it was so late. He called me an idiot, told me stop wasting your time and grow up. I hadn’t told you about it, but I was struggling with a few things. Remember Jose Blanco?”

You nodded, sipping from your cup. He and Toru connected in high school when Toru wasn’t sure about what to do with volleyball anymore. He’d helped so much and was a great mentor.

“I was talking to him about a few things that were on my mind. Then you and I broke up. He ended up talking to some people and I got a call that I was going to play for San Juan. I got swept up with interviews and press statements and moving. The next thing I knew, I was half way across the world with no idea how to tell you I was starting my overseas career earlier than planned. I decided it was best I didn’t call you. I mean, we broke up because I didn’t know how to include you in my life the way you deserve.”

Sliding your hand across the table, you let your finger tips brush against his hand. Instantly he held your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles lovingly. Tears welled in your eyes. You’d waited for so long for Toru to finally see you completely and acknowledge what it was that he spent so many years of your youth apologizing for.

“Not having you there with me this past year was so hard. It felt like not breathing. I still love you, (Y/N), and if you can forgive me, I’d really like to make it work this time.”

Nodding your head, you sniffed, a teary but happy smile on you face as you wiped the corners of your eyes. “I love you, Toru. Let’s make it work.”

-

tag list: @hihiq​

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty One, “Timing”

Find all chapters to this story here! 

Check out the character survey from Becky’s POV I did recently! :-)

Warnings: Very brief mention of IVs (needles)

Song Inspo: My My Love by Joshua Radin (Click to listen)

                                    Sneaky Peeeeeeeeeky!

“A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one inch mark.

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats.”

“No. W-what are you doing here?” I stutter, unable to control my words. Or my thoughts. Or my emotions.

At the drop of my words, Harry’s face falls. His eyebrows. The budding smile on his lips. And the brightness in his eyes. But he masks it quickly. And it escapes my mind when he crosses the distance between us. His black slacks, teal geometric-patterned button down, and curls are a blur in the seconds that follow. Suddenly, his arms are around me and pulling me into him. With sleep still clinging to my mind, and unsure of what to do, I freeze. 

“Please don’t tell me you left work to drive 3 hours to come to Madley,” I confess quietly into the damp shoulder of his black peacoat. Shivering, his fingers run trails up and down my back. 

“Shuddup, I ‘ave a case t’morrow nearby in Wolverhampton . . . Jus’ lemme do sumthin’ nice fer ya,” he says, his soft words drifting over the top of my head. 

“I-I’m sorry. I just woke up and you caught me off guard,” I apologize meekly, feeling myself relax. My arms wind around his waist and lace themselves together over his coat. 

“‘s okay,” he hums. His hands pause and I feel them brush my hair away. “I know ya hadda rough night- well couple o’ days,” Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against my hair. My lungs still and I wait, wondering if he’ll kiss my head. But it doesn’t come, and I try to will away the disappointment beginning inside of me. I’ve become so accustomed to it that it doesn’t want to leave this time. Then it’s joined by the happy disbelief appearing wet in my eyes. 

“Couldn’ stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, an’ figured I had t’ come up ‘ere t’morow mornin’ anyways. Wha’s an extra night hurt?” The first few words do it for me, and there I am spewing tears all over his shoulder. They’re not a waterfall, but the emotions growing inside of me feel that way. And they’re here, because he is. 

He holds me tighter against him, and I feel his cheek rest on my head. Holding on tight to his coat, I let myself and everything I’m feeling melt against him. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re here,” I confess in a trembling voice interrupted by sniffling. 

“I think I do do, ‘coz you were there fer me tha day o’ tha funeral when I needed a friend. An’ at tha hospital. Ya showed up fer me, Becks, an’ I wanted t’ do tha same fer ya,” Harry reveals softly from above me. My lips bend into a happy smile amongst the tears that come harder at his words. “I brought dinna, ‘cuz I knew ya prolly hadn’t eaten. ‘s luck that I found ya atta vendin’ machine.”

His precious laugh greets my ears as his fingers tickle up my back. The bunches of fabric leave my hands, and I step away to search for those green eyes. After a few seconds, I find them staring down at me. They’re blurry behind the tears, but soon his smiling face sharpens. 

“No mo’ tears, ‘kay? Le’s go eat some dinna an’ find  sumthin’ good on tha telly,” Harry whispers, running the pad of his thumb along my cheeks. Nodding, his hand envelopes mine and we go to find a sitting area.

The halls are deserted besides a few nurses checking in on patients. Familiar medical-sounding beeps sound throughout the hallway. After guiding the way for Harry as I wipe my cheeks, we soon find our dining table. Or rather a sofa with a little table. 

“I hope fish an’ chips ‘s alright,” he says, doubt filling his words. 

“Of course they are. Did you get them from Maggie’s over on Fifth?”

“Yeah, I think so. Li’l shop with photos coverin’ tha walls?” he questions as he unpacks the brown paper bag. 

“Yep, that’s the one. They make the best fish and chips I’ve had. And I would know, because I grew up eating these ones my entire life.”

“Well I guess ya would know then,” Harry relents, shrugging his shoulders with a toothy smile. 

Whispered ‘thank yous’ float between us as we pass each other food and napkins. With two cups of water from the cooler a few steps away, we dig in. 

“No kiddin’, these are good. ‘s always tha family owned shops that make tha best ones, innit?” Harry mumbles with a mouth full of food. I reply with an ‘mmmhmm’, trying not to laugh at the crumbs speckling his chin. 

The crispy, buttery cod melts on my tongue. With my free hand, I grab hold of the gray remote sitting on the table beside me. 

“Hey, ‘s my turn t’ pick what we watch,” Harry whines, stealing the remote from me. 

“Rude!” I retort, but any words I had left to say collapse into laughter. Licking his thumb, he peeks over at me. A sly grin stuck to his lips. 

Shaking my head, I look away and pick up a chip from the paper tray in my hand. When my eyes return to him, a ketchup-covered chip sits in his hand. Meanwhile, his face is screwed up in concentration at the telly. I smile, and then notice his reflection in the dark window on the other side of him. Kicking his foot with my right, he turns to the left to look at me in confusion. 

“Just pick something!” I tell him, my palm turning up to help me talk. His dark curls dance atop his head as it goes from side to side. 

“Oh hush, you. Cantcha letta man think?” he quips before feeding the chip past his cherry lips. 

“No, not when it takes you an hour to pick what to watch,” I reply, yanking it from his hands. 

“Heeeey! I was jus’ gonna pick that episode o’ Friends!” 

“Wait, you like Friends?!” I nearly yell, my head snapping to look at him. 

“O’course! Who doesn’t? I grew up watchin’ that show with me mum an’ sista,” he answers. With those words, my heart does a somersault in my chest. Oh my fuck, I’m falling again. “Wha’? Do ya not like it?”

“No, I-I love it. I grew up watching it, too. It’s like my comfort show - I watch it when I’m happy, sad, mad, excited- you name it,” I reply slowly, engrossed in gathering ketchup onto my chip. When I hear his murmured ‘me too’ from a mouth full of food, the devil and angel inside of me go crazy. For once, they seem to root for the same team. 

“Favourite characta?” his words greet the air effortlessly. He licks the salt and grease from his thumb, and I suddenly regret looking up. The things you do to me, Styles. 

“On the count of 3?” I ask, and his chestnut ringlets bounce with a nod. 

“1 . . . 2 . . . 3.”

“Phoebe!” we both say in unison, sending us into fits of giggles. 

“There’s nuthin’ betta than her on dat show. She’s hilarious, plays guitar, ‘s a surrogate fer her bloody brotha, an’ ‘s gorgeous,” Harry explains, and I’m following with every word. And with each one, I feel the butterflies in my tummy flutter again. For possibly the tenth time already tonight. 

“All of the great jokes and catchphrases from the show are from her: Regina Phalange, Smelly Cat, Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, ‘I don’t even have a pla’, Gladys the framed doll, and that stupid taxi. She’s blunt and so funny, but she’s so sweet and would do anything for her friends,” I continue, watching him nod emphatically as he picks up another chip. 

“Couldn’ ‘ave said it betta meself. Oh I love dis episode where they’re stuck at tha beach house. Poor Phoebs findin’ out tha truth ‘bout her mum dat way, tho’,” Harry comments, his mouth falling into a delighted and then sad O. My eyes follow his to the screen of the telly where our attention is held for the next twenty minutes. 

My shoes only stop squeaking when I stop in front of the garbage bin. After tossing the greasy paper bag, I rub a pump of hand sanitizer into my hands. I wince at the awful sounds my shoes make as I try to walk quietly down the tiled hallway. The snoring greets my ears before I see him, but when I do, I smile. With careful steps, I pluck my backpack from the couch before leaving the room. 

“He still sleepin’?” Harry asks, looking up from the Friends marathon from the telly. We scored! 

“Yep,” I answer, plopping down onto the sofa beside him. 

“Good,” he answers, slumping down further into the gray cushions. My backpack drops with a thud to the floor after I got what I needed. “What’re ya doin’? ‘s eleven-thirty, love. Tha’s no time t’ be doin’ homework.”

“I know, but I need to submit an assignment before I forget. It’s due at midnight,” I answer, seeing his nod out of the corner of my eye. 

My laptop wakes with its usual jingle, and I watch my browser load. The audience laughter fills my ears at a humorous line from Chandler. Surprise, surprise. The maroon and navy blue colors of my uni’s website appear in front of me. Within a few moments, I’m on the web page for my course. 

“Wha’s tha assignment?” Harry inquires, his eyes never leaving the telly. A laugh creases his cheeks, making me smile. But I’m not very sad I missed what’s so funny, because he makes up for it. 

“Um, it’s an essay about Thomas Cromwell and his theories and stuff,” I reply, opening the page for assignments. 

“Ah, I see they ‘aven’t changed coursework much from my day. Cromwell ‘s bloody obvious when ya start talkin’ ‘bout British law.”

“I know, it’s like the professor didn’t even try when drafting this assignment,” I comment with a small titter. Relief washes over me when I get a message saying my submission was successful. And something else too from being able to talk to him about law so easily. Something akin to how a hot chocolate makes you feel on a winter’s day.

I glance up and find Harry losing it with laughter. There’s a fleeting temptation to ask him to clue me in. But a laugh tingles on my lips when I find what he’s laughing at. Monica’s crying as she holds onto Chandler’s arm, an ocean scene in the background. 

“Can’ believe Joey actually peed on Monica.” The words leave Harry’s mouth in between chuckles rather sloppily. 

“He was just trying to help!” I comment, unable to stop laughing either. 

“But it doesn’t even help! They say it makes it worse even,” he laughs, rubbing his forehead.  

Shaking my head, my eyes fall to my laptop screen. After a few clicks, lines of text cloud my eyes. My eyes roll into the back of my head at their appearance. I find it nearly impossible to hold back a groan. 

“What’re you gripin’ ‘bout ova here?” Harry questions with teasing in his tone.

“I have to read the entire case of Haughton v. Smith for a test, and it’s so confusing. I mean, working with you brushed me up on a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. But still, a lot of it doesn’t make sense to me,” I huff, my chin falling into the palm of my hand.  

“Alright, lemme see what part yer at,” he says in a quiet voice. I try to ignore the regret budding inside of me at what I said about working at his firm. And how it makes me feel, and probably him, too. I don’t know why I ever bring it up, because sometimes it feels like when somebody else brings up the ex-boyfriend, or something. The sofa cushion dips as he closes the space between us. The angel and demon inside of me erupt into synonymous cheers when his arm goes around me. 

“God, did you forget your glasses or something, Grandpa?” my question sputters from my lips in a cackle, watching him squint at the screen.

“Oh shuddup, an’ I mean it,” Harry quips, looking away for a moment. When I see the reason why, instead of a laugh consuming my thoughts, something else does. For some fucking reason, my heart warms at the sight of him unfolding a pair of mottled brown Pantos glasses. He tucks the brown case into the inside of his blazer, his peacoat on a chair. “Ya ya, laugh all ya want at me an’ me readin’ glasses.” 

But when he looks down at me with them settled on his nose, I don’t laugh. “Why aren’t ya laughin’ anymo’, hmm?” he questions. 

“I think they look really nice on you. They make you look handsome and sophisticated,” I tell him slowly, and it’s undeniable the pink that pinches his cheeks. 

“Well ‘s ‘bout time fer dat t’ happen, only took me twenty-nine years,” he jokes, bringing a smile to my lips. My head goes from side to side as I close my eyes, my cheeks bunching from happiness painting my lips. Yeah, it’s about time for a lot of things right about now. “Alrigh’, lemme look what part yer at fer real now.”

I nod, trying to get comfortable on the sofa. Pitching my head back, I feel it bump into his arm. Nevermind my fucked neck, I return my eyes to the screen to try and forget that his arm is around me. But they immediately refuse and slowly trail to Harry, his face mere inches away from mine. 

Okay, no, stop thinking about his lips and what they could do, I tell the demon inside of my head. 

Becky, you could. You so know you could do it. 

Shut up! He’s just helping me with my homework, that’s all this is. 

Oh yeah? And when are you going to let yourself think about the real reason he’s here, huh?

I can’t do that right now. 

Yes, you can! Maybe if you think about it, you’ll realize how good of an idea it would be to let yourself kiss him. I’m sure he’s thinking about it too.

Just stop!

His thumb and forefinger knead his bottom lip. It bunches together in little waves as his eyes flit across the screen. Whiskers the shade of his curls are scattered across his face. They’re dense atop his upper lip and around his chin. And God, I can’t stop thinking about them. Wanting to touch them. Feel them on my face- okay stop it, Becky. 

“Well yer mostly at tha end, so wha’ doesn’t make sense t’ ya?” Harry finally says, turning his head ever so slightly to look at me. 

“I know, but I feel like I don’t know what I just read. And the verdict is contradicting to me,” I answer with a shrug of my shoulders. 

“Well maybe it’d make more sense t’ ya if ya weren’t lookin’ at it at almos’ midnigh’, love.”

“Yeah, well it’s kind of the only time I have lately with everything. I’m afraid to email my prof again saying I need an extension when it’s due tomorrow. I’ve needed a lot of them lately. I just wanna get it done,” I respond quietly, looking to the telly awkwardly. It’s always hard when the truth comes out, and the emotions that hang on to it. 

A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my left eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape. 

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one-inch mark. 

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats. 

“Kids used to make fun of it when I was little. They’d call it a worm under my eye, because of its shape. It used to be more pronounced and bigger when I was little, but it’s still pretty noticeable,” I answer, adding in an eye roll that he laughs at. 

“Aww, poor Becks. But if it counts, I don’ think it looks like a worm. ‘s cute on you,” he adds seriously, pinching my cheek. That makes me look over at him, and I already know that I’m blushing. 

A small ‘thanks’ leaves my lips before my eyes dip to my laptop. Close to a minute of silence grows between us before he breaks it. “‘Kay, so Haughton vs. Smith found that ya can’t commit tha crime o’ handlin’ stolen goods, if tha goods they’re talkin’ ‘bout weren’t actually stolen. ‘s an important case t’ know, cuz it was ‘ventually ovaturned by tha Criminal Attempts Act o’ ‘81. Ya’ll neva be able t’ forget tha connection between tha two, issa given. Ya don’ need t’ worry ‘bout that law now tho’, they basically mean tha same thing.” 

“Thanks for explaining it, I hope it’s enough to help me pass the test on it,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly. 

“Open tha test, an’ ‘ll help ya with it.”

The second my eyes land on Joey’s body covered in sand on the telly, they whip back to Harry. “Really, you’d help me?”

“‘Course I would. Tha’s what ‘m here fer. An’ it wouldn’t hurt t’ see if I still got it.”

“You’ve been a lawyer for years, and this is pre-law, so of course you do. And not to mention, ranked as one of the best in London,” I reply smiling, clicking open a new tab. I suspect how my words will make him feel, because they fill me with the same emotions. Pride. Happiness. Astonishment. And more pride. 

“Well, I do me best,” Harry titters proudly. A cocky hum leaves his lips as he brushes off his chest. A laugh sputters from my lips that I can’t contain. “Heeeey, don’ be laughin’ at me.”

“Sorry, I just can’t control myself when you start dropping dad jokes,” I respond nonchalantly, clicking on the tab labeled ‘Assessments.’

“Just pull tha bloody test up an’ le’s get it ova with,” he huffs, amusement still lacing through his words. 

“Awww, is it past your bedtime already?” I pout, turning my eyes to him. His lips smush together and I hear the smallest of squeaks get past them. “You know you like my grandpa jokes, don’t lie.”

“Shuddup, li’l one, an’ open tha goddamn test already,” he huffs. If anybody else heard him, they’d think he was mad at me. But even as my eyes cast over the column of tests from this course, I know different. I can hear it in his voice - the joking, the molasses, the affectionate teasing, and the friendship. 

Wow, nice choice of words there, Ms. Denial. 

Shut up, devil. 

“I am not little!” I retort in a high voice, making my two tabs appear as two windows on my screen. Side by side. Cheating time!

“Becks, yer like 5’5, if that.”

“No, I’m not! I’m 5’6, you liar!”

“Ya, cuz that one lousy inch really does a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Harry counters, his voice melting into a goofy one. I respond to it with a hearty laugh that is soon accompanied by his. “Yer still a li’l one t’ me, love.” 

“Fine, Grandpa Harry.”

+

The annoying sound of a laugh track pricks at my ears. Blinking hard, the room around me is blurry. But after a groggy minute of blinking, it begins to sharpen. I don’t remember the lights getting turned off, but the telly screen burns my eyes. Rubbing them, I moan from tiredness. Dropping my arm, I feel it hit something. Looking down, I’m confused. When I lift my head from whatever it was resting on, I find what I was laying on. And well, what was also laying on me. Still is. Her face scrunches adorably before relaxing, nuzzling her head against my shoulder once more. 

Becks. 

After combing my hair off of my forehead, the lock screen of my phone wakes me up a little more. Especially when I see that it reads 1:18 am. Fuck, I need to get to my hotel and go to bed. I have my case tomorrow. But when I hear a noise and find the culprit, all of those thoughts wash away. An incoherent sound runs off of her lips, ones that are so close to me. Fuck, again. But when my eyes scan the rest of my body, I realize that she’s all over me. Well, almost. Her right hand rests on my chest as she leans against the back of the sofa. But her pretty little head of dark hair is laying on my shoulder. My arm is around her, holding her close to me. I can feel her other arm tickling my side. 

Memories float to the surface, and suddenly I’m back at the hospital in London. In December. A phone call woke me from my slumber beside her on the sofa. The both of us curled up on opposite sides. Sleep clinging to my eyes and begging to me to return to it. Her shoulders rising with every soft snore, but it was the most daintiest one I’d ever heard. It felt like my heart was being squeezed tighter with every move I made to leave her. When I draped the second blanket over her. And how much it hurt to move the hair off of her face. To press a kiss to her unknowing head. But nothing compared to the anguish I felt grow with every step I put between us. 

Blinking hard, the dark room materializes around me again. Her precious snores welcome my return to the moment. A smile brings my lips upwards as I watch a crease grow between her eyebrows. She’s too goddamn adorable. And that’s why I came, isn’t it? Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t resist her. I can’t say no to Becky. When she called me crying and a mess worrying about her dad, I didn’t know what I was doing until I was putting the town of Madley into my GPS. I guess The Beatles were right with that one song, and plenty of others. She’s really got a hold on me. And before I could begin to stop myself, her skin is like velvet under my thumb. I rub the crease away with the pad of it, and suddenly my head dips. My lips barely brush her hair when she groans below me. 

“Harry?” she murmurs, lifting her head from my shoulder. 

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

She yawns, moving away to look around sleepily. But soon she returns back to my arms, cozying up to me once more. And I couldn’t be more thankful, or conflicted. The latter word drills into my mind as I rub a hand down her back, sleep trying to coax me back in, too. 

“We fell asleep,” she mumbles, her honey voice coated in that very word. Fuck, does it make me feel things. Things that I’d much rather not. 

“Yeah, ‘s one in tha mornin’.”

“Shitttt,” she sighs, sitting up fast. Her growing locks pour over her shoulders covered by a crewneck jumper. Faded pictures of balls from different sports are scattered across the heather gray fabric. Like something my dad wore when I was a tot. “You have your case tomorrow.”

“‘m fine, I already dropped me stuff off at tha hotel an’ got me key,” I tell her, missing the warmth of her against me. And I miss the fact in those words alone of what I’m missing. Her in my arms. “But ya should prolly get sum sleep, too. Seems like ya’ve been missin’ it lately.”

“I’m okay, just lots of homework,” Becky says, running her long fingers through her wavy hair. 

“‘d offa me hotel room, but ‘s half an hour ‘way in Wolverhampton. An’ there’s only tha one bed,” I tell her, unsure of why. I blame it on the sleepy brain. 

“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ll just sleep on the couch in his room. It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” she assures me. Her arms crack as she stretches them toward the ceiling. I can’t help myself when the baggy jumper rides up, exposing the slightest of her milky white tummy. Fuck. But just like that, it’s gone in a flash. If only my feelings worked that way. 

It’s like she has some sixth sense that I’m thinking about her, because her eyes cast over to me. It’s hard to make out their ocean blue in this dark, but I know they’re there. I can picture them if I need to, because I do it all the time - trying to make myself remember what they look like. The exact shade. The speckles of darker blue amongst the color. 

“Yer welcome,” I return. The tired smile I get in return melts my insides like butter. But that’s how I feel when I’m around her, and that’s how much of a hold she’s got on me. 

Shocks of electricity dance across the back of my hand. I don’t need to look down to know her hand is on top of mine. And how it’s making me go crazy. She’s only a few inches away. I could do it. Before I stop myself, I begin to lean in, and she watches me do it. But with only a few seconds left, we jump apart at the sound of a ringtone. 

Embarrassment covers me like a dark cloud, among other nasty emotions. My head falls, hiding the heat rising to my cheeks. Pulling out my phone to distract myself, it doesn’t do that great of a job as I hear her talk to somebody on the phone. Dammit, I was so close. With a hand in my hair, I scroll through emails. Deleting some and saving others. 

“Sorry, that was Robbie. Just checking in, since I forgot to update him, I guess,” Becky tells me, lifting my head with her voice. 

My head only goes up and down, avoiding eye contact. Because I can’t muster it after what just happened, or what didn’t. 

“‘s late, ya should get sum rest,” I announce, getting to my feet. Picking up my coat, I slip it on before I dare to look at her.

She smiles shyly at me, sleep hanging around her eyes. Even rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her jumper is precious. And her legs jittering in her faded blue jeans. Vans the shade of her favorite color donning her feet. 

“Yeah, you too,” is all she has to say.

Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. For a mere second, I entertain the thought of trying again. But fuck it, she’s so far away right now, figuratively and literally. I can catch a hint of her scent sticking to me, and it makes me sad to realize. 

“Go get sum sleep, ‘kay?” Are the only words I can think of as I walk up to her and pat her arm. 

“Yeah, you too, Harry. Careful driving.”

“Thanks, Becks, I will. Sweet dreams, love,” I mutter, looking at her over my shoulder. 

And I keep walking, and leave her behind. Regrets coursing through my ears, and emotions tugging at my seams. The tiredness coating my every thought and action, only make it all the worse. I’m not sure if I want to wake up more for the car drive to the hotel, because then it will all feel even more real. And discouraging. 

“Harry?” stopping in my tracks, I hear her call my name. Spinning around, I feel her before I see her. Her arms surround around my waist and her head comes to lay against my chest. All within seconds. “Thank you . . . for coming.”

A pain sounds in my chest when I hear the emotion in her voice. And it takes all of me to not echo it, because I know I could. And that I would. Instead I say, “Yer welcome, Becks,” and I do at least one thing I wanted to do tonight. Dipping my head, I smooth down her hair and press my lips to her hair for more than a few seconds. 

The sweet smell of orange blossom greets me, and my smile is havoced by pain. Her warm breaths tickle the skin at my neck as my hands lace together at the small of her back. Her arms squeeze me around the middle before releasing, and she lets go of me. I think about trying again, but the thought is fleeting when she begins to walk away from me. 

And I let her do it. Once again. 

+

The burbling of the running water fills my ears. Well, besides the sound of the football match. Surprise, surprise. And the next sound. His cheering. It makes me smile as I wipe my hands with a paper towel. 

“What’s the score now?” I ask, walking back into the room. His eyes don’t go to me at the question, instead they remain on the screen. 

“Six-two. It doesn’t look too good for ‘em,” my dad replies snarkily, a devilish glint in his eyes. But it’s there, and that’s all that matters. It’s what makes the smile stick to my face. 

“Don’t let your food get cold,” I say, bending over to dig into my backpack. 

“I’m done eating. You can have the rest, Ree,” he replies just as I feel the smooth handle I’m searching for.

“I’m okay, thanks. I was probably going to check out the special in the cafe.”

“Oh so only I have to eat the hospital food?” my dad whines, pouting at me when I look at him. 

With a laugh, I remark, “I’m eating their food in the cafe too, you dork.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, chemo brain,” he replies, tapping a finger against his head. A striped green hat keeping it warm. His arm returns to the white blanket pulled up to his waist. Light shines in his eyes and his arms lift into the air when they make yet another goal. 

Whoops and hollers leave his chapped lips. But this morning, they’re pinker. And so is his skin. If only in the slightest, I notice them. Running the brush through my knotted hair, I yawn as I watch him. A patterned hospital gown covers his upper half, with the sleeves just coming to above the IVs in his left arm. Fluids and meds. The antibiotics. Yippee. 

But the thoughts are mulled over when I look to his plate sitting on the moveable tray beside him. It was scrambled eggs, toast, applesauce, and milk this morning. And he ate nearly half of it, even if it took about half an hour. But I want to blame part of that on the football match his eyes are stuck to. 

“I’m going to see if I can find your doctor. I had a question,” I tell him, dropping my hairbrush back into my backpack. 

“Ree, don’t worry about it. He’ll come by later,” my dad insists, but I stand from my chair regardless of his answer. 

“It’s fine. I need to stretch my legs anyways.” 

He hums a reply I can’t decode, but I hear his teasing about blocking the telly when I walk by. Over my shoulder, he flashes me a small smile before returning to yelling lazily at the referees. Nurses and doctors pass me, going to and from rooms to the nearby nurse’s station. Tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear, I search for the shock of white hair of my dad’s doctor. 

But no such luck. 

As I approach the nurse’s station, sounds of beeping, call lights, and murmuring voices fill the air. But another sound stands out from the rest. And I hear my name, or well my last name. It takes me a second to locate where it’s coming from, but when I do there’s a flutter in my chest. And I know I’m in trouble, or maybe that I’m just realizing it now after all of this time. 

But I don’t save him right away, and instead I observe. Confusion sews his eyebrows together over those misty green eyes. One lone curl tickles his forehead, breaking free from his damp hair. His black peacoat is draped over his arm clad in a warm violet blazer. A dusty rose button down peeks out from its collar, and I smile. I don’t even know why. But as the seconds tick by watching him talk to the nurse, I think I know why. 

“Looking for me, Styles?” I pipe up, stepping forward with my hands hidden away in my hoodie.

Harry’s eyes fall from the nurse and pan over to me. A lazy smile works its way onto his face quickly, only interrupted to thank the nurse. 

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, turning to walk towards me. 

“What are you doing here? You have your case today, you said,” I respond, playing with the sleeve of my black hoodie. The cracked decal of Robbie’s old band covers the front. 

“Came t’ bring ya out t’ brekky. Me case doesn’t start ‘til tha aftanoon, bug,” he responds with half of a smile, pinching my arm affectionately. And there’s that nickname, again, I think as my insides turn to mush. “Well jus’ down t’ tha cafe if tha’s alright. I saw sumthin’ ‘bout biscuits ‘n gravy, an’ sumthin’ smelled mighty delicious when I came in.”

“That sounds great,” I say, a smile inching its way up my lips. The wet ends of my hair knock against each other, and my chin. “I’ll just let my dad know,” I tell him, turning around to walk away. 

But after only a few steps, a sudden thought brings me to halt. It wills my feet to turn around and look at Harry. “Would you like to meet him?” I ask tentatively in a meek voice. “He’s doing a little better this morning, but I think that’s thanks to the Arsenal match on the telly.”

With what appears to be a shaky smile, he replies, “‘d love t’. Hope ‘s not me Manchester United boys playin’ ‘gainst ‘em.”

Waving a hand towards me, he closes the distance between us. His leather boots squeak from the last bits of melting April snow. It’s only a few moments before I peek my head into his room, and low and behold, he’s still transfixed by the match. 

Rapping my knuckle against the door, I get his attention before saying, “Hey, can I steal you away from your precious game for a few? There’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet.”

“Yeah, sure,” he responds, adjusting his blankets before the telly’s volume falls. Over my shoulder, I shoot Harry an encouraging smile. He returns it, but I can see the nerves showing through. 

Pushing open the door fully, I walk in and he follows from behind. 

“Dad, this is Harry Styles. My uh, former boss I’ve told you about,” I fumble for words, giving a magician-like wave to him. Well, the right words. “He stopped by last night and brought me dinner. He has a case today in Wolverhampton, and we’re going to get breakfast downstairs before.”

A weary smile curls at the corners of my dad’s lips. Nodding, his dusty pink lips part, “Ah, so this is the fella you were with until all hours last night,” he jests, pulling nervous laughter into the air. “Yes, it’s about time we met. I’ve heard a lot about you, son. Thanks for everything you’ve done for Becky, and for your well wishes. It’s meant a whole damn lot to me, and I know for her too.” 

Okay, dad, let’s not board the emotional bus yet. Or maybe, ever.  

Happy laughs float around the room as Harry steps forward, rubbing hand sanitizer into his hands. “‘s a pleasure t’ meet ya as well, sir,” he rasps, reaching out to shake my dad’s hand firmly. 

“Call me Chuck, Harry. I’m not that old yet, although sometimes it feels that way,” my dad jokes, widening the smiles on all of our faces.

“Yes, ‘course, Chuck. I’ve also heard loads ‘bout ya, all good things, so no worries. Ya’ve been in me prayers an’ thoughts ova tha last 7 months. Sure raised a great daughter, ya should know.” 

A permanent smile warms my cheeks as I shyly look over to Harry. He meets my eyes and smiles back at me. Winking, he shove his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Thank you, son. That’s mighty good to hear, although I’m not too sure about that son of mine sometimes,” he laughs, soon getting a scoff from me. 

“Oh I mean Robbie, too. I’ve only met tha bloke once or twice, but I was impressed. Certainly since I was surprised t’ find out Becky hadda twin,” Harry comments, his eyes burning a hole into my cheek. 

“Yes, I think I’ve heard that story. Their mother and I were pretty surprised to find there was two, also,” he chuckles. “But Ree likes to do that sometimes.”

Shaking my head, I look away and to the Spring sunshine. It seeps in through the cracks in between the window shades. Their soft laughs fill my ears before Harry’s voice does again. 

“Yeah she’s a spitfire, alright,” he comments, and finally I meet his smirking eyes before they return to my dad. “But ‘m glad t’ hear yer doin’ a bit betta. Hopefully they can get a good handle on dis soon, an’ you lot can go home.”

“Thank you. We hope so too,” my dad nods, running his thumb along the buttons of the tv remote. “I truly appreciate you taking the time to be here with Becky . . I know it means more than words to her.” 

Looking away to the floor, his words find the chink in my armor. I feel the lump rise in my throat along with memories of last night. Luckily, the tears stay away and I get away with it. 

“‘Course, ‘m glad I was able t’ come an’ be with her. Dunno if she told ya, but she was there fer me when my grandad was in tha hospital befo’ he passed. An’ well, I know how much it means t’ ‘ave sumbody there,” Harry murmurs, almost giving a reason for the tears to make an appearance. But they don’t, and I’m repeating ‘thank yous’ inside of my head. 

“I’m pretty proud of my little Rebecca Ann, and it only grows more every day,” my dad comments, flitting his eyes over to me. His words make my cheeks tingle with a new blush and because I know another pair are on me, too. 

“Yeah, she makes it ratha easy,” Harry agrees softly, pulling my attention to him. The gentlest smile sits atop his lips, and a sad sweetness twinkles in his eyes. 

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your match. We’re going to grab breakfast before everybody else gets the same idea,” I pipe in, unsure of when and how to sever the moment. But the look in Harry’s eyes does something to me, and I don’t know what to do with it. 

We exchange short goodbyes before I’m following Harry out of the room. The rising volume of the football announcers voices send us on our way. 

“Rebecca Ann, huh?” Harry smiles beside me, the nurse’s station in our rearview mirrors. 

“Go ahead and make jokes about it. It doesn’t even sound like my name, I don’t know. I’ve only ever went by that for forms, when I got in trouble, or like on the first day of school and graduation. And the Ann is just my middle name, I don’t have a two parter,” I explain hurriedly, surprising myself when I don’t hear one of his delightful giggles. Tearing my eyes away from the poster at the end of the hallway, I look to him. And he isn’t laughing, which confuses me. 

“There’s no jokes t’ be had. I think ‘s pretty, yer name. Figured ya were a Rebecca, but wasn’t sure. Nor did I know yer middle was Ann. Tha’s my mum’s name, ‘ve always loved it,” he tells me, coming to a stop in front of the gunmetal colored doors of the lift. The sickeningly sweet look on his face sends the butterflies in my tummy to flight. Again.

“Oh thanks,” I almost blurt, pressing the button to go down. But then as we step into the welcoming lift, more come to me. “It was my grandmother’s name. It always made me feel closer to her, like I always had a piece of her with me.”

“Tha’s nice. ‘ve always liked it when parents carry on family names like dat. It makes me think ‘d like t’ do tha same with me own kids one day,” Harry continues as I watch the doors shut, cutting us off from the rest of the world. If only for a few minutes. But still. 

“Me too.”

“So nobody ever calls ya Becca?” Harry inquires, catching my attention. 

“Eh, not really. Maybe Skye sometimes, and my grandma Ann did, but not much anymore.”

“Hmm maybe ‘ll hafta use it then,” he quips, but then he wears a confused smile he pulled out of thin air. “Eh I dunno, actually. Ya’ll always be me Becks,” he finishes, making my heart do a dance. And fueling the angel and demon having a party inside of my head. 

“Yeah, I agree. Anything else would sound weird.”

“Ya look like ‘im, ya know. Tha eyes, tha hair, and tha shape o’ yer face - bloody spitting image ya are. ‘Specially Robbie,” Harry acknowledges.

“We get that a lot, but thanks, I like to hear it. Sometimes I can’t see it, though,” I recall. “Which parent do you look like?”

“Um, dunno. I get comments ‘bout lookin’ like both o’ me parents. I guess I mostly ‘ave people say I look like me dad with sum o’ my mum’s features. Which sounds wild.”

“Yeah, I can relate with people saying I look like my dad. It’s like, oh thanks for saying I look like a boy,” I laugh. Turning to look at him on my left, a small one sputters from his smiling cherry lips. 

“I know, ‘s weird.”

“I can see it, though. How people think you look like him,” I tell him. When I watch his lips settle into a silent, straight line, I feel instant regret. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, ‘s okay. Jus’ hard hearin’ people say ya look like sumbody ya don’ like.”

A small ‘oh’ passes over my lips before I can stop it. My eyes leave him and go to the changing red number above my head. Words bubble up inside of me, and I tell them to stop. But then I can’t. 

“I think I know how you feel,” I murmur, daring to look over at him, her face flashing in my mind. His far away eyes lift from the floor and pan over to me. 

I try not to lose myself in their infinity of green, but it’s worthless. And soon I am, and thoughts of last night leak from my memories. 

I know it’s at the back of his mind too. That almost kiss. The one he tried to initiate, and the one I want so bad. Five months ago, I don’t know if I would’ve. But now in this moment and in this elevator, all alone with him, I couldn’t want something more. 

Or somebody. 

[b4civility]

August,7

fanfic based on the “teenage love triangle” on Folklore, “Betty”, “August” and “Cardigan”. Still releasing new chapters, stay tooned! 

[NO WARNINGS] 

summary: Betty doesn’t realize she is touching James the first time she does so. James doesn’t realize she is everything he wants the first time he paints her sink red. Alisson doesn’t realize she wasn’t part of the plan. August slipped away like a bottle of wine, as quick as it could,staining everything it reaches.

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Chapter 1: Betty 

Whenever I have to pack, my head gets cloudy. Always seems like I got everything I need, except that the Object That I Take For Granted But Actually Use Everyday stays behind, like a bath sponge or a coffee pot. I know this will happen, but get a bit of a headache every time trying to fight it. All the boxes in mu checklist are checked, but this anxious feeling still buzzes inside my head. 

‘Check under the bed to see if there’s something there’, mom says. 

I check. There is, but nothing that belongs to me. 

I am moving from a house of girls to another house of girls, but at least I get to have the unspoken individuality of my belongings, the entitlement to my schedule and to have “ I would rather not talk about it” or “I want to keep it to myself” as a legitimate answer this time around. My sisters are pretty sad about it- Skyler says she will miss my closet the most. “ So I am supposed to buy my own earrings now? How much do they cost? Do you try them on at the store? Is it ok if I get them wet by accident or will they be totally ruined?” she shoots at me as I finish packing my jewelry. “ Did you not care to not spill water on my earrings when you wore them?”, I ask, but she just looks away and plays with the ones that are in her ear, that are, too, mine. They are the silver with some dark green balls at the end. I stole them from a fancy boutique when I was 14, igniting my addiction to this accessory. I stole a couple more until the guilt finally kicked in,and then became an expert on finding cheap and not that bad ones at Aliexpress. I’ll just let her have it, looks better with her short hair than with my long one. Even though we have the same kind of curls, mine weren’t as defined as hers when I had short hair. A little bit shorter than the earrings, makes her look so edgy. She loves it. 

Eliza, in the other hand, despites my wardrobe, but worships my baking skills. One Sunday or the other we bake together, she makes sour doo biscuits and I bake a cake. This is our stack for the week, and then we try a different recipe for the dessert that day. We have a nice dynamic in the kitchen by now-she hates making cake but loves eating mine and I feel the same way about her biscuits, ans since both of us have a sweet tooth, baking is taken very seriously under this roof. 

The four of us get in the car, I get the backseat since Eliza is our official DJ (not that we gave her the title, rather she took it),plus, mom likes her by her side. Never have I ever sat behind the wheels when the entire family was in the car, for some reason mom would always get cautious about it when I asked if I could drive in these situations, even though I have been each and everyone’s chauffeur at some point. 

Tomorrow, at this very hour, I would be waking up to none of them. The closest thing to not being a sister I ever had was before I was seven, when Skyler wasn’t born yet, the bedroom was all mine and dad only had one volleyball player in our backyard. The closest thing I ever got to not being a daughter when he left. I was 12, Skyler was 5 and mom was in no condition to deal with her and our loss at the same time. Grandma was around a lot for the next 2 years. I couldn’t say the same about our mother, even up to this date. 

So I was reading her body expression, her smile at what my sister was saying about the music she chose, her thin neck, blurred by some hair strands that got out of her pony tale and eventually felt on her shoulders covered by her green cardigan, and how easily breakable her peacefulness appeared. Not because of my departure,no, she has been looking like this everyday since that last day. I don’t believe the other two ever notices that, not when they got their hands full with the colossal mess they make to get their older sister’s attention. It does work, I’m even moving houses because of it;college is just a social-acceptable excuse. 

Three hours later we have completed our journey from Mendax to Verum, the college town just 20 minutes away from campus. Five other girls were to live with me, none that I have met yet, but their facebook page tells me I got another Political Science major in the house, two English majors, a biology southmore and soon-to-be-graduated journalist. I sort of hoped I was going to be the first one to arrive so I could get my stuff in place first, not have all the stubbornness that run through my family’s DNA thrown at them as a first impression and possibly bake a Homecoming/Welcome/If My Words Fail Me At Least I Have This Going For Me cake. Plus, I own Eliza this last/ first moment, so I’d ask for her help. 

 The house was unapologetically pink. The pastel tone suited the wood-revested building very well, so much it felt like Barbie Dream House: College edition. The family house energy of it, the immense porch space, the spacious interior corridors,two livingrooms and the hugh gress space in the backyard were the opposite of what you would expect of a college girls’ residency, yet everything you wish they all looked like. Besides, this was a very prospect location for an off campus party, so I think I got the upper hand with this one. 

“ You are in a Barbie movie scenario for your entire graduation. I’m so jealous I can’t barely put it into words” Skyler said, staring at it, blinking as if she was waiting for it to disappear the next time she opened her eyes. “ Yeah,I will be sitting at the porch waiting to see if Ken shows up anytime soon,too.” I answered as I stood next to her, holding boxes. “Yeah, be sure to look very carefully for him at the massive Homecoming barbecue you guys are going to be having in this abnormous big backyard of yours”.So it was that obvious.” But don’t get attached to the first cutie you see, ok? Someone better could be just around the corner... ”. I don’t even want to imagine how her college years are going to be like. Probably a little cooler than mine; she always knows how to make a fun moment even funnier. Is it legal to bring your underaged sibling to a uni party? 

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you in mind whenever I get more-than-two-dates invested in someone here”

Did Skyler really thought that my next romance would just fall into my backyard, like that?  

Chapter 2: James 

The sound of the wheels rolling on the concrete always get people looking, even when you are far from them. Anyone in top of a skateboard becomes a model in a suburban street, whose streets turn into a red carpet filled with paparazzi. I try to say something like “good morning” or “hello” to whoever I am passing by in an attempt to make my politeness overcome the annoyance of the loud noise, and convince myself that it works. Somehow, I often end up in a situation where it would be better not to be seen: whether is when I am riding my board and I get loud or in places I shouldn’t be attempting to land a trick at, or when I am pointing my camera at someone, trying to get a picture without them noticing. As if it isn’t happening for the hundredth time, I awkwardly pause, try to wave at them so I don’t come out as a stalker and gesticulating an apology all at once. People generally frown and move some place else, as a anyone in their right mind would. But only my headphones come with me for the ride when I know I will be taking The Pink House road. Two years ago I was riding by for the fourth time in the same week - ok, that was pretty stalker-y - getting shots of the house, the thing that struck me at first, and then the feature that actually grabbed my attention: the girls. There were four college girls living there, all who seemed so bubbly,so full of life, so enjoyable to the eye, so hot. By that time I had the count in my head, and one of them was missing. Didn’t mind much, got some rather good photos of Claire, the only one that I(oddly,but actually) knew. We made out at a uni party that I had sneaked in to the year before. As soon as I looked forward, A bloody face jumped in front of me,screaming, scaring me enough so that I felt in the concrete, scratched an elbow and hurting my feet. 

“THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DON’T WEAR PROTECTION PADS!!!!! AND ALSO WHEN YOU ACT LIKE A CREEP FUCK,BASTARD!” 

As I pointed my head to the sky, the bloody shadow took away the mask, to reveal the fourth girl missing. “I-I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to.. I was just… The house, I-”

“Oh God ,it’s a creepy kid”, she said, throwing a hand to help me get up. “ So just because you are a cute teenager you think you can spy on stranger’s house like that?!?”- she said I was cute- “Yo, it’s no stalker”- kinda was- “just a random kid with a camera. Partially broken camera, you might wanna pick that piece up”. That was the day I met Inez. We got quite acquainted since that day, and photographing a place that you are allowed in got boring after the first two times so we just became friends.

I searched for her, but instead saw a brown girl istead. A new girl. Someone I was not ready to see. I stopped breathing the second she raised her head and I could see her almond eyes better, the spark on her cheeks reflecting the sun. The next thing I knew I had my face on the concrete, with the same elbow scratched, again. 

“Shit, are you ok? You're bleeding” she (yes, she!) said to me.

“I-I’m cool, I’m cool… you know,just...whatever, happens all the time and shit...” . My mouth doesn’t know how to work when my brain is in complete shock with the view, apparently. 

“You should at least wash it, your elbow could get infected, come on inside” she said, as she held my hand and arm very softly. You could see she was trying not to touch the injury much, but I swear I wasn’t feeling my entire body. 

Chapter 3: Betty 

“I suppose we should have a first aid kit here, somewhere…”- he’s painting my sink in red as the water runs in the wound. What a way to start. “Eliza, Skyler, help me; you go look if you find anything in the bathroom and you, keep at the kitchen cabinets”.

“It’s on the upper shelf, actually”, he answers.

It was.What the fuck?

“So you live here now?!?!” I hear a voice from behind that isn’t my mother’s. It’s the biology major,even though she is blonder than her facebook pictures.

“I-I-I just… arrived…. I’m sorry he… I was just...” Was I ever going to come up with the right sequence of words to explain that I, a girl she never met, had got into her house with a bleeding,also strange boy and two teenagers running wild looking through her stuff? The chances are beyond unlikely,at its best. 

“Not you, I was expecting you- I mean  him”, she arched her eyebrows.

“Inez ! long time no see, girl!”, he replies with a sort of laughing, trying to lighten up the mood. I wasn't understanding one bit of what was going on.

“ You couldn’t wait for the party so you just brought it right in yourself, huh? Look at the mess you made in my kitchen! You know, I am leaving here next year so you better make a good impression of yourself for the other girls if you want to keep falling in our doorstep and getting aid” 

“I don’t think I’m their first option but I can make it work, never smile at someone and didn’t get a smile back” he says softly, kind of taking advantage of it, as he smiles at Inez, and she tries to hold it, but smiles back. I smile a little bit too, but still- what the fuck is happening?!?! 

“ You believe that your white teeth will get you anywhere, don’t you?”

“It got me aid the first time I ever felt in your doorstep. Also got you letting me teach you how to skateboard,which was super cool” he started sounding a little bit more teenager-y. How old was he? 

“ I always wanted to skate, you just happened to have a skateboard”. The air in the room was decrisealing chaotic. What he did worked. 

“Oh, like we were the only two people here, I am so sorry; hi, I’m Inez, welcome home,Beatrice!” she turns to me, shaking my hand, with a relaxed smile on. 

“Thank you, you can call me Betty” He really softened the mood, the words even came out of my mouth normally. 

“Ok, sure. I was meant to be here earlier but I had a salon appointment. But you met the house mascot already,so that’s one thing out of the list”- she points at this skater, sitting on the sink- “ This is James, he’s around more than he should. Do you need help? with the boxes?” And then I remembered of my sisters, running loose around the house and my mom, probably on the car outside. 

“ My sisters and I got everything by the porch already, there aren’t many”

“Fine, I will just wrap up this skater’s arm in a band-Aid and then I’ll show you your room. Clem is your roommate. You are enrolled in political science too, right?”

“Yeah”

“Nice, I think you two will be quite a match then. James, get your board rolling outta here, you are done, you can stop scarring my new roomate. 

“ Thanks, ‘Nez” he hopped out of the sink. “ It was never my intention to scare you. Nice meeting you, Betty” he gives me a quiet smile, looking into my eyes just for a second before looking at the ground. He ran a little bit down the hallway, got on the skateboard and went out of sight. He had this boyish posture, stubborn, unaware of his own size. His broad shoulders moved along with his waist as he strolled away. It was nice meeting you,too,James.

[destiel-love-forever]

The Set-Up

In Claire and Jack Novak's opinion, it's been far too long since their dad went out on a date. Castiel Novak doesn't think it's an issue. His children disagree.

So, they make a plan.

Enter a dating app, a fake profile, and an unsuspecting Dean Winchester. What could go wrong?

Read Below or on AO3: The Set-Up

The Set-Up

The plan is simple. Only 3 steps.

Stage One: Make the dating profile.

The first thing the app asks is what picture or pictures they’d like to include. Claire wants the picture to be more on the attractive side, while Jack thinks it should be goofy. They decide to add three in order to cover all the bases. The first is of their dad when they went on a hike last month. He’s wearing that light blue shirt that makes his eyes bright. It was a weekend, so his stubble is grown in. The smile on his face is carefree, showing off his dimples and eye wrinkles. They both agree that he’s handsome - even sexy, if it were possible for their dad to be sexy - and use that as his main photo. The second picture is of their dad at an outdoor concert. He’s wearing his blackRebel With A Cause shirt and his sock monkey winter hat with the strings hanging down. The third is a picture of the three of them at the ocean. Uncle Gabriel had taken the photo just after a huge wave knocked them over, so everyone’s hair is all over the place. They’re standing together haphazardly, arms wrapped around each other so they can smile for the picture. You can practically hear the laughter.

“Perfect,” Claire announces, clapping her hands together after this part is done. “Now they see he’s a hot, goofy, single dad.”

“Do we want them to know the single dad part?” Jack asks nervously.

“Uh, duh! This isn’t Tinder, Jack. This is looking for a long-term thing. I think it’d be a little hard to do that while keeping his sixteen-year-old twin teenagers a secret.”

Jack shrugs, unable to argue. He clicks the NEXT button and they continue filling out the profile. It takes them thirty-four minutes, and a lot of arguing. It’s a relief when they finally submit it.

“Now what?” Jack asks as they stare at the finished profile.

“Now,” Claire pauses dramatically, giving Jack a crazed smile that makes him wonder if this plan was actually a good idea. “We wait.”

----

When Dean gets home from work after pulling a double-shift, he grabs a cold beer from the fridge and plops down on the couch. He kicks his feet up and turns on the TV to watch the football game that’s about to start. As the announcers go back and forth on what team is going to win, Dean starts messing around on his phone. His thumb hovers over the dating app Sam convinced him to install last week. He hasn’t looked at it since the first night. It’s not that he doesn’t want to find someone, he’d love to, but it’s such a time-consuming process.

After glancing up at the TV to see that there’s still ten minutes before kick-off, he figures he might as well scroll through the thing. What’s the harm in looking? It might even be entertaining.

Case in point: The first profile Dean sees is of a man maybe ten years older than him with a black Santa beard, who has wrapped himself in a strange-looking rainbow towel and is holding what looks like a pet mouse. Dean doesn’t even read the description of that one.

The next isn’t terrible. A younger guy with a cute smile. Dean rolls his eyes when he reads the blurb on the guy's profile. Every achievement in his life is written out for Dean to read - from winning his highschool talent show to getting a masters in business. He then lays out his dating history, in which each situation he was the victim.

Next.

Dean's breath catches when he flicks his thumb to a picture of an absolutely beautiful man. He's standing on what looks like the top of the mountain, grinning at the camera. Despite the hiking clothes and messy, sweaty hair, he still manages to be Dean's wet dream.

Holding his breath, Dean starts to read the blurb on this guy's - Castiel, Age 38 - profile. He's praying this guy doesn't suck like all the others.

I'm a freelance photographer, a terrible singer, and have a set of 16-year-old twins that make my world chaotic. When my kiddos graduate I plan on doing a lot of traveling. My Hogwarts house is Hufflepuff - yeah I'm a 38-year-old man who cares about his Hogwarts house, fight me - and my patronus is a guinea pig. I'm allergic to guinea pigs though, so not sure what that says about me. Message at your own risk if none of that scares you off.

Dean reads the paragraph two more times, grinning like an idiot. He scrolls through the rest of the pictures, each one sporting an equally good looking Castiel, and decides this one is worth a shot.

He opens up the chat feature but then his thumbs freeze. What does he even say? He rereads Castiel's paragraph before typing out what he hopes will be a response the guy likes.

Dean spends the rest of the game checking the app every two minutes. When he finally gets the checkmark that Castiel read it, he holds his breath and stares at the screen. Then it tells him Castiel is typing. Dean's heart races. He decides it'd be a good idea to grab another beer while he waits.

This Castiel guy has him feeling like a damn teenager again. If Dean's being honest, he kind of missed that.

----

"Dad got a new message!"

"Oh god, is it another creeper?" Jack asks, hurrying over to where his sister is sitting on the couch. It's a valid question. They've had some real wackjobs message their dad. One asked upfront for a dick pic. Another told him he'd like to bring him on a walk in the forest at night. Suffice to say, those got deleted.

"No, he's hot!" Claire grins at Jack, showing him a picture of a very handsome man that looks to be a little younger than their dad. He has kind green eyes and a warm smile. The picture shows him at what seems to be a barbecue, people blurred in the background as he stands there wearing a faded flannel and holding a beer. Relaxed. Casual. Not full of himself.

"What's his profile say?"

Claire clicks on the button that makes the profile blurb pop up and read out loud, "I'm a pretty laid back guy, but I still squeeze in adventures every once in a while. Nothing's better than a lazy Sunday on the couch watching football - though kayaking down the river is a close second. If those kinds of things sound good to you, feel free to message me."

"He sounds good," Jack muses.

"Good? How about great. He's perfect. I mean, dad isn't a huge football fan, but he could read a book or something as they cuddle! And dad loves kayaking and stuff like that."

Jack lifts his hands. "I'm sorry. You're right. He sounds great. What does his message say?"

After a second, Claire reads, "Your chaos doesn't scare me. Life should be messy after all, right? Plus, I don't own any guinea pigs, so we're batting a thousand so far. Look at us go - and then a wink face."

"He's funny. That's good! Dad needs to laugh more."

"Dad needs to do what?" Castiel asks, strolling into the living room while looking at his twins suspiciously.

"Oh. Uh." Claire and Jack exchange a look. Then Claire says, "Sleep more. We were just talking about how you're always up late and up early. You need to relax more."

Castiel chuckles. "I'll keep that in mind. Don't worry about your old man, kiddos. I'm fine."

As Castiel flips through the channels on the TV, Claire leans in to whisper in Jack's ear. "He's not fine, but he will be." She shows him the message she sent back to Dean, grinning mischievously.

"Stage two?" Jack asks in excitement.

"Stage two."

Stage Two: Arrange a meeting.

After seven messages stretched over 36 hours, Dean asks if they can meet. He suggests something low key and public, making a joke about serial killers, and Castiel (A.K.A. Claire and Jack) says he knows just the place. They agree on grabbing some coffee on Saturday morning at a little cafe downtown. Ten A.M.

That gives the twins sixteen hours to get their dad to that cafe at that particular time. Unsuspecting, of course.

Stage Three: Get dad to the cafe.

They ambush him at dinner. Claire starts - she’s usually the one to take the reins. Even as a toddler, she was the troublemaker of the two.

“So, dad. What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

Castiel, always very perceptive, pauses halfway through cutting his steak and looks up at his daughter. His eyebrows pull in. “Nothing… that I know of.”

“Perfect! We want to hang out with you.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel looks at Jack, then back at Claire, highly suspicious. “You want to hang out? With me? On a Saturday?” He looks at each of them again. “Without me telling you you have to?”

Jack steps in. “School starts in a week. I’ll be busy with football and student council, and Claire will be busy with dance and drama. We just wanted to spend a little extra time with you.”

Wanting to make this sound a bit more realistic - because they’re teenagers after all - Claire adds, “And we were kiiiiiind of hoping you’d bring us clothes shopping for back to school, too.”

“Ahh, there it is. The motive.” Castiel winks at his kids. “Fine. We can go school clothes shopping.”

“And coffee!” Jack adds enthusiastically.

“Coffee?”

Claire shoots her brother a look for shouting that at their dad instead of being more subtle, then smiles at Castiel and says, “Well, that’s what we wanted to do first. Get coffees and then go shopping.”

“You don’t have to bribe me, kiddos. I’ll take you shopping.”

“It’s not a bribe,” Jack states firmly.

“Yeah. It’s a thing.” Claire shrugs a shoulder. “It’s very New York City. Everyone’s been doing it.”

“Doing what?” Castiel asks, slightly exasperated.

“Getting coffees. It’s way cooler than stupid stuff like bowling or the movies.”

Jack nods. “It’s more sophisticated. Grown-up.”

This makes Castiel smile. “Okay. Grown-up coffee date it is.”

----

Castiel sighs as they walk into the coffee shop. It’s been a morning of overbearing children. First, he planned on letting them sleep-in this morning. What teenagers don’t want to sleep-in on Saturday, a week before they go back to school? Apparently Castiel’s. They made it clear they needed to get their coffee by 10 AM, because the mall opens at 11 and they don’t want to have to wait in lines.

Then what Castiel wanted to wear - old jeans and a hooded sweatshirt - was apparently not cool enough for them, whatever that means. They talked him into his nice pair of dark jeans and a soft grey sweater that’s thin enough for the lingering warmth of summer.

As he started driving them to Starbucks, he was quickly directed downtown instead. His kids love Starbucks. At least, they used to. Now it’s apparently not what everyone is doing. It’s not New York City - something they both keep saying, even though Castiel is clueless what New York has to do with anything.

Now they’re in the coffee shop, and Castiel is sent to get himself coffee while Claire and Jack go talk to a friend. They say they’ll be back in a minute, telling Castiel to just go sit. When he offers to get them their coffees, they both nearly shout at him not to before stuttering something about not being sure what they want yet.

Castiel gets his Americano and slumps down at a table in the corner. He pulls his phone out and opens the chat for Gabriel. He’s the coolest person Castiel knows - which sort of hurts the soul to admit.

Castiel: Do you know what it means for something to be ‘So New York City’? And since when is Starbucks not cool?

"Excuse me?" Castiel puts his phone down and glances up at the man who just spoke to him. He's taken aback. Not only is the man gorgeous - dressed in black jeans and a faded denim-colored button-up shirt that has the top few buttons left open, with a charming smile that involves the prettiest pink lips Castiel has ever seen, a dusting of freckles, and green eyes that feel like they could see into his soul - but he's also standing extremely close to Castiel. Like, if Castiel were to stand up, they'd be chest to chest.

Castiel clears his throat and awkwardly says, "Uh, hey. Can I help you?"

The guy stares at him for a few seconds, then his gorgeous smile fades. "You're Castiel, right?"

"Right." Castiel scans the cafe, confused. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Seriously?"

"Well - yes."

The guy huffs, clearly angry now. "I'm Dean."

"Okay." Castiel scratches the back of his head and laughs nervously. "Well, hi Dean. Can I help you with something?"

"Great. I knew you were too good to be true. Just had to be a fucking dick." Dean turns to leave before spinning back around and glaring at Castiel. "Why even show up? Why keep messaging me? Seriously. What the hell is this?"

Now Castiel is really confused. "Messaging you? I'm sorry, sir. I have no idea-" his eyes travel past Dean's shoulder, catching sight of Jack and Claire trying to hide behind a bookshelf. "Oh, Jesus christ."

"What?" Dean growls.

Castiel laughs softly. That's all he can do in this situation. He's so shocked that his kids pulled this off that he can't even be pissed right now. He's sure that will come later, though.

"Let me guess. We met on a dating app or website."

"Dude, what is this? Is this some sort of fucking game?"

"No. Unfortunately, it is not." Castiel points at his twins, who look terrified. When Dean sees them, Castiel explains. "Apparently my pain in the ass teenagers didn't want to accept my I don't want to date right now. I'm assuming they're who you've been talking to."

Dean stares at them before turning to look at Castiel with wide eyes. "You know, it was written on your profile that they create chaos in your life. I was forewarned. Just had no idea I was going to be a part of their troublemaking."

"Okay, I need to see this profile now." Castiel laughs, trying to imagine what his kids would have put. "Can I buy you coffee as an apology?"

"An apology?" Dean scoffs, stepping closer to him so he can speak in a lower voice. "You're not getting out of this one, blue eyes. I'm on their side. You and I are on a date right now."

"We most certainly are not."

Dean winks at him. Winks! "I'm gonna grab myself a coffee. You just stay there."

"But-"

"Need anything? Muffin? Refill?"

"I - but - no." Castiel wipes a hand down his face, suddenly nervous. He's on a date. He's not ready for a date. He doesn't have topics prepared in case the conversation lulls. He didn't ask Gabriel what to do or say in every possible scenario.

Before Castiel can panic further, Dean is back. He puts a gentle hand on Castiel's shoulder and pushes him until he's sitting in his chair, then goes to the opposite side of the table to sit across from him. His grin is even wider than it was when they first spoke. That was a sexy, but nervous Dean. This is a confident, amused Dean.

Great.

"So, Castiel. Let's get a few things straight. Is your patronus really a guinea pig? And how exactly does one get themselves sorted into Hufflepuff?"

Castiel groans. What other embarrassing stuff has his children told this man? He looks over at where Jack and Claire or clearly spying on them from across the cafe. He narrows his eyes and mouths you two are dead while doing a line across his throat with his finger.

When he turns to look at Dean again, the guy is laughing. He's loving this.

"First of all," Castiel begins, letting a large amount of sass into his tone. "If we’re going to try this, you aren’t allowed to bash Hufflepuff. What’s your house anyway?”

“Gryffindor,” Dean states proudly.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Cliche.”

“Uh, I can’t help that that’s my house!”

“Did you take the official test?” Dean doesn’t even have to answer. The look on his face and the way his eyes awkwardly dart to the side give him away. Castiel points an accusing finger at him. “Exactly. So you’re one of those wannabe Harry Potter guys. No giving me shit for being Hufflepuff until you take the test too, asshole.”

Dean laughs softly, looking at Castiel with eyes that practically sparkle. “Alright. Fair enough.”

“Second of all, that right there?” Castiel points a finger at his twins, then at Dean. “Not cool. Not cool. You’re on team dad if you come around. No joining those two to gang up on me.”

The smirk Dean gives Castiel makes it pretty damn clear this rule isn’t going to be followed, even though he says, “Of course.”

Lucky for Dean, Castiel’s already hooked on this man. He’s laid back. Good looking. Funny. Charming. It’s easy for them to talk and tease each other. He’s making Castiel laugh for the first time in a long time. Plus, he already passed the crazy teenager test. If this guy can handle the fact that he was tricked by the twins to come here on a blind date with their dorky, uncooperative dad, then Castiel can give him a chance.

“What’s number three?” Dean asks.

“Huh?”

“There was a first of all. Then a second of all.” Dean puts his elbows on the table and leans closer to Castiel, almost like they’re sharing secrets. “What’s the third of all?”

“Umm,” Castiel looks at his coffee, feeling himself blush. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t blushed in years. “Third of all - ummm.”

“Can I do the third of all?”

Castiel tilts his head, looking at Dean in curiosity. “Sure.”

“Great.” Dean licks his lips, eyes flicking down to Castiel’s own mouth. When he looks back up at Castiel, it looks like he wants to eat him alive. “I'm bringing you to dinner tonight so we can have a proper first date. One where your two goofballs aren't spying on us."

Castiel turns around, laughing when he sees that Jack and Claire have moved closer now, trying to hide behind an open menu that barely covers one of their faces, let alone two. He looks back and Dean and smiles. "Dinner tonight sounds perfect."

[ikesenhell]

New Heights

GLITTER & GOLD, CHAPTER 6. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: Violence tw. Guns, general discomfort, implied death. 

There was no such thing as a rivalry in the post-apocalyptic landscape--just varying factions all trying to survive, same as the next. That didn't make the relationship between Waŋblí Hoȟpi and Kasugayama any better. They didn't contend for resources or fight over territory. The answer was much simpler.

It just so happened that, out of all the people in the world, Shingen Takeda, Kenshin Uesugi, and Nobunaga Oda all hated one another.

The reason was as petty as it was significant: Nobunaga was abrasive. Kenshin Uesugi didn't respond well to being abraded. Shingen Takeda didn't respond well to what he perceived as pompous behavior. Together, the trio mixed about as well as oil and water, and very little ever assuaged that. The only thing that came between their mutual dislike of each other was the collective welfare of the plains settlements.

This happened to be one of those times.

They arrived on horseback around mid-morning, their saddlebags thick with papers and plans. Only four came: the two leaders of Kasugayama and their respective experts, Yukimura and Sasuke.

“So,” Masamune asked, watching the four exchange awkward greetings with the Waŋblí Hoȟpi leaders, “Which do you think is the mechanical engineer?”

She grinned up at him. “Do we want to go stereotypical, or a serious guess? Cause my guess is on the nerdy one.”

“You’re right, Kitten, that is stereotypical.” He kicked back against Ieyasu’s porch and worked his hands over the worn wooden steps. “When do you think they’ll bring up the ship?”

“I can’t imagine it’s high on the priority list. Well--” She paused. “Unless it’s been raiding their settlement, too?”

“We didn't get that on the list.”

“Did you ask?”

They hadn't. Masamune mulled over this before pressing on. “Well, then in that case, we should bring it up even sooner. I told Mitsunari to drag me in when they start talking about it, so hopefully that’ll be sooner rather than later.”

---

It was much, much later when Mitsunari rapped on the front door. Fortunately, Masamune was waiting. He slung on a jacket and followed the man to the office. The familiar long table was stacked with polaroids of the ship, each copied in triplicate and laid out according to angle. Apparently, she’d been right. The settlement leaders were all gathered around, but the most invested was clearly Mitsunari and Sasuke.

“This ship,” Sasuke was saying, bent double over a photo, “It just emerges without warning?”

“As best we know.” Mitsuhide settled into a chair and crossed his arms. “We’ve never gotten one.”

“Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.”

Masamune rapped his knuckles against the table by way of greeting. “It’d be a lot cooler if people weren’t vanishing or dying cause of it.”

Sasuke nodded vigorously, shoving his glasses back up his nose. “Naturally. My apologies if it sounded insensitive; it’s simply fascinating, given the network of things at play here.”

Mitsunari paused. “Has anyone vanished from Kasugayama?”

Shingen stirred in his seat. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with rugged good looks. “We’ve had a few, but we didn't connect it to this. Our disappearances seem more attached to a sudden surge of these religious types outside the boundaries.”

“Then it’s connected,” Nobunaga announced gravely. “We’ve been dealing with much the same.”

“Oh good.” Kenshin finally spoke up. By all definitions of the word, he was a beautiful man--blonde hair, bright eyes, sharp features. “Then Shingen will stop objecting to me having them run out of town.”

Shingen didn't rise to the bait. Instead, Sasuke cut through the noise with a matter-of-fact tap against one photo in particular. “This is all very fascinating. I’d presume the ship existed before all this. Local lore springs up to explain its presence. Religion sprouts in its wake. All this over such a simple simulation.”

The room fell silent.

Masamune lifted his hand. “A what.”

Sasuke realized--perhaps too late--that he was the bearer of news. He plunged into explanation. “It’s a simulation. You see, if you arrange these photos by timestamp--”

Mitsunari caught on next. “Then every fifteen to eighteen seconds, it indicates part of the hull is missing in particular sections. You can see it on the leftmost and rightmost sections, though it is blurry.”

Shingen and Mitsuhide quietly slid copies over to follow along. Sasuke snapped his fingers at Mitsunari as if to say ‘you got it’. “The motion blur makes it difficult to spot.”

“But how?” Mitsunari continued. “To make such a complex simulation occur without casting it over something--that would require technology we haven’t seen since the war. Besides that, it would take quite a vantage point…”

Mitsuhide snapped his fingers, tossing down the photo. “The turbine field.”

It made sense as soon as he said it. The wind turbine field was a well-known scavenging spot. Almost all of the spare parts for generators in Waŋblí Hoȟpi came from there. Masamune felt his stomach lurch. How close had they been all this time?

Ieyasu huffed. “How would we have missed it?”

“It’s in the turbine,” Masamune announced, realizing it all in one. “One of the functioning ones. It’s how it has power. It’s connected to the turbine.”

“Masamune,” Hideyoshi started, “Masamune, no--”

Too late. Masamune turned on his heel and jogged from the room. Down the steps he ran, out into the dark streets. If they were right--if they were right!--they could end this tonight--

“Woah, tiger! Where are you going?”

Masamune skidded to a halt only seconds before impact, but he didn't stop. He scooped her up into his arms and flung her over his shoulder, ignoring her squeal. “You feel like a climb, Kitten?!”

“Masa! Put me down!”

He obeyed, setting her on his motorcycle and digging for two helmets. “We’ve got a mission. It might stop the whole damn thing. Are you with me?”

She didn't even wait for an explanation before jamming the helmet on her head. “Just fill me in while we’re going, won’t you?”

---

Moonlight streamed down on the field. The ancient remains of pylons towered in the echoing plains, overgrown blades lying in discarded heaps. Long ago they’d decided not to what was left for power; they’d never been entirely certain of the integrity of the remaining turbines. Instead they’d languished. In the dark, they looked more like the ruins of a temple made for giants.

Masamune puttered to a halt on the outskirts. With the engine off, nothing but the swell of silence remained.

“Fucking creepy,” he muttered.

“Tell me about it,” she agreed, dismounting. “Which one is it?”

“Dunno. I figured we’d wait for the wind to kick in and see which ones still work out of the standing. There’s only five--”

“Five to search, if they all work,” she shot back. “That’s a lot of climbing to do. We don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

She had a point. “Any ideas?”

But she just sighed and shook her head. “Short of waiting for the ship to come around and seeing if the light projects out one? I’m not sure.”

“My plan it is.” Masamune shook out his hair. “Come on. Let’s go.”

As if on cue, the wind raced up behind them, swirling through the grass and echoing between the columns. Two turbines turned in response. It was now or never. Reaching behind him to her, he linked his hand in hers and squeezed.

“You good, Kitten?”

She squeezed back. “I’m fine.”

The dry prairie grass cracked underfoot. They picked past rubble and rusted parts, old vehicles abandoned to nature. In the moon, bright red paint glinted off one the abandoned pylons, reading: GODS COME FOR THE FAITHFUL.

In the distance, a faint light fluttered.

Masamune froze first. Her breath hitched behind him.

“Do you think--?” She whispered.

“Possibly.” He paused, groping himself for a machete that he knew he’d left at the motorcycle. Did they turn back? No--he realized there was too much wide open space between them and their exit now. There was only one alternative: hide.

Together they charged for the nearest functioning turbine. A dog bayed nearby. Laughter and conversation ghosted over the wind. Masamune tried the handle of the service entrance, but it was shut too tight to budge.

“Shit,” he mumbled, rolling up his sleeves. “This is gonna be loud.”

One, two, three--he lifted his leg and kicked in the metal door frame. The distant flashlight roved in their direction. Desperate, he yanked at the jammed handle. It screeched free. “Go, go, go!”

More barking. Someone shouted. She dove in first, Masamune sharp behind her. The inside was tiny and cramped, only enough space for two and the ladder up.

And oh--that ladder certainly went up. He couldn’t see where it ended, but no doubt it went up through the whole turbine.

“Shit,” he repeated. “Go.”

He didn't have to tell her twice. She leaped onto the ladder and scaled it to the first level, going as fast as she could manage. Masamune crouched by the door and sifted through the dust until he found a wrench. Good enough. As if on cue, the door started opening.

Well. Better to handle it on his terms.

In one fluid motion, he wrenched open the door. One very surprised looking man--the same cultist from the store!--weaved on the spot, rifle in hand and backup outside. Masamune took no chances. He snatched the rifle barrel downward and swung the wrench up into the man’s jaw. Crack! The cultist howled, and Masamune slammed the door shut in his face, taking the rifle.

“Come on!” She shouted from the next level. “Hurry!”

Masamune slung the gun over his shoulder and charged up the ladder. A flurry of blows landed against the thin metal door. It was only a matter of time before they cracked it open. Up, up, up he went, clambering onto the next level just as they breached inside. A gunshot ricocheted off the wall. Masamune checked the chamber of his rifle and counted two bullets. Only two shots. Great.

Someone fired off another shot. Behind him, he heard the rattle of metal and watched her heft a toolbox over the edge, handily knocking someone from the ladder.

“Nice one!” Masamune pushed her toward the next ladder. “Now go!”

Up, up, up they climbed, their pursuers close behind. Each progressive level just got smaller. What would they do when they reached the top? What lay in wait for them? Masamune didn't know. Instead he focused on covering her escape upward, saving those two precious bullets.

And then they were there.

There was a very small light at the top. It hung dimly over the rotor, hundreds of years of ‘on’ leaving it faint and brittle. Still it was something. She leapt onto the landing and immediately negotiated her way around the spinning engine, the dull roar echoing through his chest.

“Careful!” He shouted.

“Got it!”

BANG! Another shot. Masamune hissed a curse and slung himself over the ledge, preparing himself for whatever came next. She shimmied her way into the narrow crevice at the front.

This was it.

The first man made it over the edge, and Masamune picked him up by his shirt and shoved him bodily off. His scream echoed, cut short by the BANG of his body hitting the next level below. More shots. He wondered how much ammo they possibly had.

“Here!” She called. “I found it! I found it!”

Masamune hissed a prayer and slid back beside her, narrowly dodging the sharp wheels of the engine. A very slight hole protruded in the front of the turbine. Sure enough, there it was--a small box, caked in grime and dust. Pre-war tech, no doubt about it. She cradled its plastic frame in her hands and peeled it from the ledge, dusting off its surface. A small note was taped to the top.

“ARK,” she read, tapping the line beneath it. “And some coordinates.”

A thousand questions popped to mind. There was time for none of them. Behind them, the ladder rattled again. Masamune wheeled around and lifted the rifle just in time to confront the newcomer: bang! He shot off the ledge. One bullet left. Another man came over the edge and Masamune fired, narrowly missing.

Nothing for it. He hurled the useless weapon at the assailant, catching him off guard long enough to grab him by his collar and shove him face-first into the rotating wheels of the engine. The scream echoed; Masamune punted him off the edge as well, breathing hard. Silence.

“Let’s go,” he urged her, waving her along. “Bring the projector. We have a second’s opening.”

Going down was almost harder than going up. They skipped as many spokes as they could, rushing through the interior. Down, down, down--they made it to the landing and Masamune breathed.

It was premature.

The door kicked open. There, gun at the ready, was another few cultists. They screeched to a halt, the projector poised between them.

“Hands up,” snarled the leader. “And down on your knees.”

There wasn’t a choice.

Slowly, uncertainly, Masamune obeyed the directions. Another man swept in and cuffed their hands behind their backs, wresting the projector from her arms.

“What now?” She asked. “Do you shoot us?”

“Shoot you?” The first of them repeated. “No. You’ve angered the Messenger. We’ll take you to him instead.”

[geejaysmith]

Wolf 359: A running list of things I have a heightened appreciation on second listen, pt. 2

Part one here. 

SEASON 3:

Pan-Pan: Still a little miffed they didn't explicitly do the "we have to huddle to conserve body heat" trope. Yes, it's corny, but also shut up, let my touch-starved space disasters cuddle.

So Eiffel stopped Hera and Minkowski arguing in season 1 to address an emergency, and now with Eiffel absent, the team starts arguing again. The fact he doesn't exactly have much Pride In His Own Self-Sufficiency to get in the way of "hey! Guys! Remember, imminent death? More important priorities happening?" tends to defuse situations like this aaaaaand now he's absent.

"Cutter will send a squad of psychos to come up here and kill us faster!" ...she's not wrong.

"Pick a corner and relax! Hop to it!" I just like this line delivery.

"The entire station is a SPACE YUKON and this thing is overheating!" I know, it's like it's symbolic or something.

Episode 29: "we all feel responsible for losing Eiffel and are lashing out because we're scared and sad and grieving and fear getting backlash while we're vulnerable if we admit we need help, and we don't know what to do but keep going because the alternative is breaking down and possibly never getting back up again." Alternatively:  "It's Metaphors All the Way Down."

Mayday: Eiffel's frustrated screaming.

Brain Ghost Minkowski showing up like "Yeah, we know I'm a hallucination, or Weird Alien Shit, or maybe just a clever metaphor representing the abstract process of thought, but who gives a crap, this is more interesting than listening to you talk to yourself for an entire episode."

BGM: Hi, I'm your thought processes externalized using a face and personality that you subconsciously think you need to hear from in this situation, possibly because you think so little of yourself you need to hear it from somebody else first. Eiffel: Oh hey cool, this is just like this one web comic I kept up with sometimes back on Earth- BGM: Not another word.

Eiffel getting slapped by Brain Ghost Lovelace, who is a projection of his thoughts.

What is that whispering in his head that reminds him of the Hermes' name supposed to be anyway? Score one for my Weird Alien Brain Shit theory. Having Lovelace's alien juice in your system comes with such fun side effects.

"I dunno, I only know what you know." "Shut up, don't go meta on me." / "Hilbert wouldn't know that word! He's never even heard of Empire!" Yeah, toldja: it's Brain Ghosts.

Brain Ghost Hilbert may represent the realist in Eiffel and the brutal, calculating reality he doesn't want to confront, but Brain Ghosts Minkowski and Lovelace are his cooler head and ingenuity, working him through staying calm and devising a way to survive, and Brain Ghost Hera, who appears when Hilbert tells him it's hopeless, telling him that against all the odds he will be okay, is his stubborn determination to never, ever quit. They're all his determination to live when Doug might want to just stop trying. They're the better parts of himself, reflected in the voices of his friends.

And Hilbert. But I digress- HOLY FUCK, I just realized the brilliance in the one-two punch of the Brain Ghost Brigade contrasted with the previous episode's Stress Fracture Argue Crew, it's The Sound And The Fury all over again.

Paging the Wolf 359 incorrect quote blogs: "Save my friends! And Zoidberg Hilbert!"  

Sécurité thru Don’t Poke the Bear: Maxwell! I've missed you! (':

"And I build pretty awesome battle drones on the weekends." ...Does Maxwell have her own souped-up version of one Jamie Hyneman's Blendo?

Eiffel, realizing he's starting to sound like Minkowski: My god, what have I become.

Eiffel mumbling to himself in general. "This is hell and I'm in it."

Is it just me or is Kepler's pig story not as agonizingly drawn out to listen to the second time around?

A Matter of Perspective: Funzo: 12 different board games, three of them TCGs and maybe at least one TTRPG, all tossed in a blender, because Pryce and Cutter are psychopaths.

The Funzo manual is the size of the actual Bible and don't try to convince me otherwise.

How into the game the girls all get.

Headcanon: Minkowski and Lovelace are both the types to get stupidly competitive over any kind of game regardless of their initial level of investment.

Eiffel keeps a photo of (it's implied) him and his daughter taped to the underside of his console...

"He looks so... happy." shUT UP

"I had no idea Eiffel had a-" daughter. Was it "daughter" you were going to say Minkowski. Well, no one else knew you were married til you brought it up, so turnabout's fair play.

"You think you know me? You know the artist formerly known as Warren Kepler, you've met my job. Aside from that, there's no one left for you to know." In light of the series finale, I, uh... I don't if I like this, Scoob. Also, stop reminding me all these people are human persons underneath all the desensitization to horror and violence.

"Happy birthday, Eiffel." They remembered! Hope this one is less traumatizing than the last, Doug.

"Happy Kwanzaa!" "Lovelace."

"Long Story Short, that's the last time I saw Maxwell's feet" wh. What. What happened involving Maxwell's feet. What's. why-

And to make a long story short, that's where my "Maxwell has hands for feet" headcanon came from.

Need to Know: Minkowski's dreams, apparently, include both creating musicals and commanding a deep space mission. She's gotten the latter way the hell off the bucket list, somebody with actual songwriting skills want to get in and write the former with me?

Lovelace overindulging on painkillers for her broken arm after losing Officer Fisher... "It was a difficult time." ):

Aaaand serious implications of the above are immediately headed off by Lovelace quacking aggressively at Jacobi.

Fire and Brimstone: where is my fanfiction about Lovelace overseeing Minkowski during her solitary confinement?

The Backstory Episodes: Zach Valenti wrote all the backstory episodes! I just find that kind of sweet.

Once in a Lifetime: Small detail I only noticed on my second listen, after a fanfic put the thought in my head: Minkowski's parents are only referred to in the past tense. Oof.

"Thank you for coming in on such short notice. We had a hiccup in staffing for this upcoming quarter."  So... according to the wiki's timeline, the launch for the second Hephaestus mission was some time in late March 2013. The beginning of this episode (and Eiffel's) states it takes place in 2013, with 3 months of training, meaning they were probably brought on board in January and the whole thing moved *ridiculously* fast. Everything points to them wanting to get people up in space as quickly and with as little fuss as possible, giving the newcomers no time to think it over or do additional research. Once they start the training program, they're probably too busy to look further into Goddard's deep space missions, and are likely in an environment where Goddard Futuristics can cut them off from other information sources. The people they select are relatively isolated (Minkowski and her husband being an exception) - the easier to make them disappear. Even Lovelace has been stationed at "a lot of very isolated, very quiet outposts", the implication being her superiors wanted her somewhere out of the way. Kind of makes me wonder about the rest of the Hephaestus 1.0 crew...

Greensboro: Nice ominous foreshadowing you've got there vis a vis Captain Lovelace and "are you an alien?"

Decommissioned: "We're not about to force anyone to do something they don't want to do!" ...Marcus Cutter deserves to have his trousers ablaze constantly.

All Things Considered is still a bit confusing (because I somehow keep listening to it while doing something else) and I'll need another listen to figure out what probably actually happened, but it is also hilarious.

"Eiffel had engaged the machine, but that's why I build in extra safeguards. My mistake, clearly, was to assume that would be enough to stop the slapstick routine."

“All Things Considered”: Did you have fun with this over-the-top romp of hilarity and and hijinks, dear audience? Good! Because that was us burning off our comedy quota for the rest of the season. Get ready for six whole episodes of nonstop emotional gut-punches!

MEMORIA.

Just... Memoria.

Putting this quote here because of Reasons: "Three years... Three and a half years... I've had this thing in my head breaking me, and making me think it was all my fault, that there was something wrong with *me!*"

So Memoria is still one of the best episodes and the last five minutes fuck me up in a special little way.

Time to Kill: "Or the one outside is the real Jacobi... and the alien is already in here with us." The funny thing, Maxwell, is that you were half-right and didn't even realize it, and you *were* just speaking to Lovelace.

So... do alien duplicates only get reloaded from the singular "snapshot" of the person, or does getting flare-scanned once give them a continually updated source of info? What I'm getting at is: if another Jacobi shows up post-finale, would he need to be filled in on events between his horrible, terrible death and the present?

Persuasion: Maxwell switching to First Name Basis to get Jacobi to be honest with her.

I always forget until the scene after that Hilbert is totally setting up the Space Telephone to manipulate her, but of all the ways he could've gotten Minkowski around to "we are disposable and need to act *now* before these people decide they're done with us", it still kinda touching that this is the method he chose.

Desperate Times/Desperate Measures are just a blur of "oh god oh god oh god" and it's just as nailbiting the second time around. One thing I love about this podcast is how comfortable it is with (for its medium) long stretches of silence, which can feel a LOT longer when you have no other forms of feedback except dialogue to know the first gunshot was just a warning.

So you really *do* feel Minkowski breaking out into laughter when Eiffel tries to invoke Air Force code is a release of the tension that's been building for multiple episodes. Like he's finally gotten through to them just how far this has all gone and how much further it could still go. I keep saying this: when the situation starts to threaten violence, he's got an amazing gift for keeping the rest of the crew in touch with their common humanity when the rest get far too used to a world that runs on self-interest and subterfuge. Hell, he even gets Hilbert and *Kepler* opening up over the course of the story (presuming Kepler is being honest when he talks about being a shell of himself, but even though he was trying to manipulate Eiffel, that doesn't exclude there being a kernel of truth in those words).

Speaking of Kepler: he's definitely riding the adrenaline high of the situation and it turns him into a monster with a manic streak. It makes Jacobi's and Maxwell's relative calm all the eerier by contrast. Those two really do make you forget that all of this is... pretty horribly routine for them.

Until they meet their match, that is, when the women of the Hephaestus refuse to stand down, and each of them is unspeakably badass in their own way. What Kepler didn't account for is that they're ready and willing to die together rather than sacrifice one another for their own survival.

Although again, the irony of the situation is that just dropping the station into the star could have let them avoid, /gestures at season 4. BUT I'm not gonna rain on the Badass parade here.

Bolero, aka "The podcast kicking me in the feelings while I'm down."

The way Minkowski orders everyone else out of the room before Brain Ghost Lovelace conversates with her.  ...did she pop up in the middle of that conversation, I wonder? And all this when psi-wave radiation is spiking, apparently. Coincidence?

Oh come on Hera, war is no reason to end a friendship- Look, I came here from Metal Gear. I see folks dunking on Hilbert and I'm just over here like "he's still not as revolting as Huey Emmerich."  

Listen I've seen enough of Warren Kepler and Marcus Cutter in this fandom to know y'all aren't above liking a bad guy, you just prefer the ones who're having fun with it.

"You're gonna come to my funeral! And you're gonna like it! ...I mean you're gonna feel really sad! And cry! And stuff! GOT IT??" Ah, good ol' Eiffel.

THE COMPUTER ALSO HAS BRAIN GHOSTS

"If I'm not your doctor, then what are we?" "We're... complicated?" Listen, Eiffel, if you're not careful, I'm going to start shipping you and Hilbert ironically For The Lulz, and we all know where shipping things ironically always leads.

Errybody gets brain ghosts this episode. Again: I accept that this is a device that's more interesting than an alternative method of expressing these same ideas, but the ambiguity of a Watsonian explanation (is it all in their heads? Do they really see an apparition of some kind?) lets me do my Weird. Look, I once wrote in a joke in a fic about Death from Discworld complimenting a Quirky Miniboss Squad member from Metal Gear Solid 3 on his taste in interior decorating arena design, and that spawned entire subplots in projects for two different fandoms, and eventually roped in a third fandom to elaborate further on their now-intertwined cosmology. Do not underestimate how much I can give myself to work with.

The last ten minutes of Bolero also fuck me up in a special way, partly because We Are Dealing With the Hard and Unavoidable Fact of Death but also the aliens are about to throw a curve ball that'll... alter that last part a little.

Like, words cannot describe the "Dead Man's Curve in the wet" hard right turn of going from being in mourning for several beloved characters (including my favorite) to SURPRISE, SHE'S BACK! I love it.

I'd have to check the scripts to be sure exactly because some words got lost in Lovelace's respiratory spasms but I do like to imagine the her head wound closing up in front of a horrified Eiffel and Minkowski, with a side order of glow-y shit. I've drawn too many Homestuck god tier revivals I guess.

Update: I DID check the recording script's stage directions to see just how disgustingly physical the whole event is and okay, so no weird glowing shit (I reserve my right to depict it that way anyway) but I'm delighted to report that the gross anatomical-ness I was picturing? It's worse! It is so much worse!

The goddamn AGONY that is the Special Episode being TWO HOURS LONG when it comes right after the BIGGEST CLIFFHANGER IN THE SERIES.

You have NO IDEA WHAT KIND OF TEMPTATION IT WAS TO SKIP THIS AND COME BACK TO IT LATER

LOVELACE 1.0 I LOVE YOU BUT ALSO I WANNA TO SEE WHAT'S HAPPENING TO FUTURE-YOU RIGHT NOW

Change of Mind: love the framing device placing this episode as within Lovelace's mind during her successful cranial reconstruction saving throw.

"Buncha nerds, gonna crash my-"

Just how familiar she is in this place, with these people... Hera was installed in her sister's grave (as another post put it), but Lovelace lives in the gutted cadaver of her home.

Zach Valenti's Lambert voice *does* sound like a bad Minkowski impression.

"I have a physicist to put the fear of *me* into." That's my girl. She kind of was more of an ass pre-Total Party Kill, though? Like come on, Isabel, how necessary *is* all this arguing with Lambert?

Fourier's voice is very nice, also. Very soft, very easy on the ears.

I'm now appreciating how it sounds like Fisher is the older and calmer mediator among the crew.

Also the image of Isabel just floating out in space and listening to some chill tunes is sooooo good.

Hey Doc, did it turn out Fisher was too perceptive to live. Was getting caught outside in that meteor shower really an accident. Hey. Hey Hilbert. Answer me. 

Also goddamnit, has EVERY character in this series has read Harry Potter?

Did the Fishers always differentiate each other by audio channel? I had to rewind the scene when I realized Lovelace's questions in my right ear weren't getting an answer.

"Say you're a big pink elephant!"

*gunshot* *gross biological dissolving noises* WHY

"Just because somebody made you something doesn't mean that's all you're going to be - you can be more!" I wrote this line down prior to the end of the episode's confirmation that it's a Big Thematic Point.

Aaaand we're back to the framing device, and with that, season 3 wraps. Or maybe season 4 kicks off? Either way, hell of a way to kick it off.

Cecilia Lynn-Jacobs had a hand in writing this episode? Aw... that's sweet...

So, yeah, headcanon: Alien resurrection does the weird glowy thing to close any obviously fatal maladies, then the gross biological viscera part kicks in, hence Lovelace sounding like she's trying to hack up her lungs as soon as she starts using them again.

Listen, sometimes the gross biological viscera parts are my favorite parts, okay? Okay.

[gothify1]

Red lips are tricky. They instantly make us feel like we can take on the world, or at the very least, a 9 a.m. Monday morning meeting. The caveat? All too often, formulas leave us with dehydrated, wrinkly, smeared lips hours (or even minutes) later. This cult-classic formula from Tatcha, however, doesn't. Both Amanda and I agree it's the perfect shade of red (not too blue, not too orange), lasts all day, and keeps our pouts hydrated, plump, and photo-ready—regardless of how long ago we swiped. Like a daring hue of red, matte lips can be another tricky venture, and I typically stay away thanks to how chap-prone my lips are. This is the only matte lipstick I've ever loved and the brooding brick-red hue instantly makes whatever I'm wearing look 100% chicer. My go-to pairing is a tank, dark-wash jeans, and a leather jacket. Plus, minimalists rejoice: This lippie actually doubles as a creamy blush. If you have no time or patience for daring colors or finishes when it comes to your lip game, look no further than Tarte's whimsical collection of sheer tinted balms. Though there are eight equally flattering hues to choose from, we love this perfect hit of nude that blends seamlessly into your natural lip color while flooding lips with a wash of dewy hydration. Miraculously, it lasts all day. I get that a hair product promising shine and smoothness sounds a little OTT, but trust me when I say that I pretty much refuse to go out in public without a few healthy spritzes of this new launch from R+Co. It's chock-full of health-boosting, reparative ingredients like prickly pear, baobab, and sea buckthorn, and leaves even the most parched of strands with a light fairy dusting of shimmer. Its magic works equally on all hair textures and colors, and I even love spritzing it on my chest and shoulders pre-night out. (It's just that glowy.) 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[ninemoons42-lestallumhaven]

(I don’t know how a conversation about Johan Akan on Twitter turned into inspiration for Promnis, but *hearts* to my always indulgent friends @johanirae​ and @milodrums​ for letting me get away with this!)

(It goes without saying: that’s NOT a real Instagram account :D)

Quick Fic Pick 58: snapshot of you

https : // www . instagram . com / ignissscientia /

Ignis S Scientia [Follow]

1225 posts 128 followers 94 following

Ignis Scientia (House Scientia. I serve at the pleasure of the King of Lucis, and that of the Crown Prince.)

[photograph: three fountain pens in green trimmed in gold. one pen is uncapped, and its nib is pointed toward a trailing line of blue-violet ink. the line seems to be part of a signature or of an interrupted sentence.]

[photograph: three cans of Ebony, one celadon-colored soup bowl, one pair of steel chopsticks and one steel spoon]

[photograph: the towers of the Citadel against a rain-gray sky]

[photograph: two daggers resting on a piece of cream-colored cloth, next to a dark gray whetstone]

[photograph: blurry outline of a person wearing black, seeming to spar with the blurry outline of a person who is wearing fatigue trousers and boots, but no shirt]

[photograph: a bouquet of sylleblossoms and a leatherbound book, the title blurred out]

[photograph: on a desk next to a leather-and-felt tray and a neat line of fountain pens, a square of paper that's actually a photograph. The photograph within the photograph depicts a chocobo, head tilted at an acute and inquisitive angle. In the lower corner of the photograph is the face of a blond boy with freckles and blue-violet eyes and a brilliant smile.]

"Ignis?"

Careful tone in the one word, in his name, in the very short question. Careful like asking for permission, even when the speaker has been explicitly told again and again that he doesn't need to. Careful like being gentle, like an endearing insistence on respect.

He looks up from scrolling through his feed and the comments: What the hell, so old-fashioned, a photo of a photo XD and Ah come on, did you have to post me getting my ass kicked? 

And the boy who's appeared next to him is so much more interesting, windblown and sun-burnished and sweating after his run: the morning light falls adoringly onto wiry shoulders, onto long lean legs. Knobby knees and hair sticking up every which way, it's true, and the too-dark flush on those freckle-stippled cheeks, and Ignis sighs, and reaches into the cooler in the front seat of his car, and hands over a full bottle of water. Drop-drop-drop of condensation on the ridges of the bottle, onto the boy's hands as he cracks the sealed cap open and pours the entire contents of the bottle into his mouth in one swallow.

"Thanks."

"Think nothing of it. Where are the others?"

"I have no idea?" Prompto laughs, a little. Hooks his thumb over his shoulder. "I just went past them, you know? They were going easy. I think they were. I like running full-tilt, you know? Gets the blood moving. Gets me awake anyway."

"If only that worked on the others," Ignis mutters, only a little amused -- and then he sets the thought of Noctis and Gladio running aside, just a little away from the focus of his mind and his thoughts, and he's moved by a sudden impulse and he smiles.

Raises the phone in his hand between himself and Prompto. "I don't often find myself in this position, so -- may I?"

Blink, blink, sun falling into lovely blue-violet eyes. "I don't look my best. I mean, at least let me fix my face?"

Too late: Ignis takes the photo as soon as Prompto laughs, that sweet sound and its shadow of self-deprecation, and he catches the image of freckles alight, of Prompto in full flower like he's leaning into the warmth of the morning.

And he smiles, too, and shows the portrait to Prompto: "Do I pass muster?"

"That is not me, that is so not me," and Prompto laughs some more, but now he sounds honestly surprised and honestly happy. "That guy in your photo, he's really pretty, you know?"

"Good, I'm glad you say so: I do believe I've achieved my objective."

Pause. Breath. "What?"

"I wanted you to see yourself as I do you," he says, and with a tilt of the phone that's now open to Instagram, he asks for permission. "May I?"

Stuck-out tongue. "Depends on the caption."

"Hmm." So Ignis thinks, and types, and he doesn't filter the shot in any way. Just posts it, and the caption in which he's tagged Prompto says:

The sun loves him as I do.

Prompto is fumbling for his phone, and is pulling up his own Instagram, and he's wide-eyed as he says the caption softly to himself, and -- "Seriously?"

"Have you ever known me to -- to make jest of you?"

"You laugh when I do something weird."

"I meant to laugh with you, beloved. I would never be so crass as to laugh at you."

"I -- you -- "

Ignis smiles, and stows his phone in his pocket.

He's surprised and he's not, when Prompto catches at him with sweaty hands, still cool from the lingering moisture of the water bottle that's now on the ground -- and Prompto's lips are cool, too, when he moves in for a kiss.