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[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [Five of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: I hope you enjoy!!!

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“What time is it there?”

“Same as New York, only it’s day time here.”

You hum softly and try to shuffle over onto your side, phone still pressed to your ear as you settle again. On the other end of the line, you can hear muffled street sounds, the hum of conversation in a language you don’t understand, and the occasional car horn. You remind yourself that Bucky hadn’t been gone all that long, barely three days now, and try not to feel foolish.

“Honey?” His voice is clear through the phone, like you could hear him for real in the room with you.

“Yeah, I’m still here. Was just moving.” You tell him. You can imagine him ducked into a nook of a brightly lit street, phone to his ear, his brow pinched in that worried way it often was.

“Is it helping?” He asks, but you let out a small sigh.

“No.”

Silence follows for a few seconds, and you listen closer to the sounds on the other end, trying to make a guess at where in the world he might be.

“I’m sorry, honey…” There’s more guilt in his voice than you like, and you can’t stop yourself from frowning deeply, despite the fact he can’t see you.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t just stop helping people because your girlfriend doesn’t like being alone…” You huff, rolling your eyes. You hear Bucky chuckle softly, and it makes your own lips quirk.

“I know, but I’m still sorry that you had a bad dream and that I’m not able to be there… I don’t like leaving anymore than you do.” He assures you, and you know he’s speaking the truth. Ever since your relationship had taken a turn for the romantic you’d been inseparable. Rarely did a day go by that you weren’t with one another, and contrary to what you might have thought before, being so used to your isolated existence, it didn’t feel suffocating.

Nothing felt as though it had changed all that much, it wasn’t as if the nature of your time together had really changed. You weren’t suddenly all over each other all the time, but there was a closeness, a tenderness now that underpinned everything.

You moved slow in some aspects, physicality mostly, and fast in others. Since Bucky had first kissed you over a month ago now, you’d started staying with one another through the night. You’d sleep beside one another, and truthfully, you hadn’t had such restful sleep since before HYDRA had kidnapped you. You’d been surprised when Bucky had told you of his initial hesitation, that he hadn’t wanted to wake you up with his own nightmares, but the nighttime company seemed to lend him a sense of calm as well.

Your stomach stirs at the thought of him not sleeping well while he was away either.

“I’ll be okay. I promise.” You assure him, pausing briefly before continuing.

“I just wanted to talk to you… hear your voice.” You confess, feeling rather silly, like a high schooler with a crush. Bucky hums down the line again, but this time, you imagine his sweet and bashful smile.

“I don’t think we’ll be here much longer, but just in case, why don’t you stay at mine until I get home?” He suggests. Bucky’s apartment was in a slightly nicer part of town, the building itself a little more secure and modern than yours.

You smile against the side of your phone, and nod.

“Okay. But you’ll try to let me know when you’re on your way home, right?” You both check and remind him, but you hardly need to. He meant it when he said he didn’t like going away as much as you didn’t.

“You’ll know the second I do, honey… If my phone still works.”

You chortle at the wince you hear in his voice, memories of a mission before last, when he’d used the device as parts in a makeshift bomb.

Reluctantly you bid goodnight, waiting until the very last second to hang up before you feel alone again in your far too empty bed. Unable to stare at the vacant spot next to you any longer, you decide to put Bucky’s advice into action sooner than the morning, gathering together a small bag of essentials before calling a ride service and making your way to Bucky’s apartment.

It’s still lonely without him, but between his sheets you’re able to slip back into sleep, dreaming of far more pleasant things this time.

---

Two days later you arrive home at Bucky’s apartment, cold, tired, and ready to crawl onto his couch and watch some mindless TV.

You’re still halfway through hanging up your coat and scarf when a noise makes you freeze. It was unidentifiable at first, just a sound that wasn’t supposed to be, but as you stop and listen closer, you can make out what you think is a very soft whisper, and some kind of scratching.

Your heartbeat hiccups, but it’s then, as you finish hanging your scarf on a hook, that you notice the dark black duffle bag kicked against the wall, right in front of your feet. This time your heart jumps for a different reason, and you swallow thickly.

“Bucky?!” You call out, hopeful and already moving quickly through the entryway.

“Living room!” His voice calls back, and you can’t help but smile widely as you step out of the hallway and spy the top of his head over the half wall that divided the kitchen and living space.

He’s sat on the floor, for some reason, between the couch and the TV, and at first you don’t think to question him, only freezing again when you move further into the home, and the whole scene is revealed to you fully.

“Hey baby,” Bucky beams at you, still in his uniform. You stare at him, mouth slightly ajar as you attempt to process what you were seeing.

“This is George.” He tells you, nodding down at the space between his crossed legs, where a seemingly very excited pitbull puppy struggles against Bucky’s arm to try and get to you. You blink at the dog, and then at Bucky, whose eyes have turned back to the dog as he softly calms him.

“Come and say hello before he wears a hole in me.” Bucky chortles, and you finally snap out of your surprise enough to inch closer to the pair, eventually kneeling down in front of them, and holding your hand out for the puppy to sniff.

“Hi George…!” You greet, unable to hold back a smile as the puppy immediately begins sniffing and licking your hand. You chuckle as you settle more comfortably on your knees, and lift both hands to give the dog some ear scratches.

“Why do you have a dog, Buck…?” You ask, laughter rolling over your words as the man releases his hold on the pup and lets him bound into your lap, where he promptly tries to climb you to lick your face.

“Woah now, Georgie, that’s my job…” Bucky teases, gently pulling the dog back just a little.

“He’s so happy!” You exclaim, shifting again so that you mirrored Bucky’s crossed-legs, and allowing George to settle between them, calming some as you pet behind his ears again.

“That’s just ‘cause I was tellin’ him all about you on the way home.” Bucky grins, leaning forward enough to press a brief kiss to your forehead in proper greeting. You shake your head and focus back on the puppy, running your finger from the tip of his nose to the top of his head.

“You gonna answer my question?” You prompt, and Bucky eyes you with a shrug.

“Saw a box of them on the street as Sam and I were getting ready to leave. He was the only one left.” He tells you with a little frown, watching George as the pup play with his hand. You get the feeling his story is heavily censored, if not wholly untrue, but you don’t ask.

You don’t want to know.

“So… you decided all of a sudden you were going to get a dog?” You prompt again, and his frown disappears as he fixes his gaze back on you.

“No, I decided to get a second.” He grins, only clarifying when you frown in confusion.

“… A second in command, I mean. Not a second dog.”

You still stare at him confused, though only a little less than before. It’s then that Bucky reaches out, scooping George up in his arms and holding him up to his chest like a baby.

“George is gonna keep you safe when I’m away,” Bucky explains, making your heart skip a beat.

“We’re gonna train him up real good, make sure he gets big and strong,” He looks up from the puppy then, and at you, his eyes softening.

“And maybe we can avoid more sleepless nights…”

You struggle to stop your lip from trembling at the sheer thoughtfulness of it all, but settle for shooting Bucky a watery smile before you lean in to brush your hand over George’s head lovingly.

“Thank you.” You say, leaning even further to press your lips to Bucky’s cheek. He smiles softly back at you as you pull away, and begin fussing with the puppy again.

“Why ‘George’?” You ask a small while later, finishing up a list you’d made of puppy things you had to buy, all the while Bucky played with your new little friend. He’d donated an old glove to the toy fund already, and you watch as the pair play a gentle game of tug-of-war.

“When I was a kid there was this local boxer, the best in Brooklyn, I reckon,” Bucky begins, but doesn’t look up from his game.

“They used to call him ‘The Pitbull’, but his real name was George.” He shrugs then, and throws you a small smile.

“Just thought it suited.”

---

The morning breeze whips against your cheeks, the tip of your nose bearing the brunt as well. It had been a while since you’d not only been awake so early, but ready and willing to leave the house too.

You had a good reason though, a reason you follow closely with your eyes as he darts across the dewy-wet grass, kicking up flecks of dirt as he goes, and you remind yourself you’ll need to give his feet a wipe down before you let him back into the apartment. The pitbull pup had filled out over the past three months, though he’d still get bigger the vet had told you. His grey-black coat had turned more grey than black, and his floppy little ears had become a little less floppy as he’d grown into them.

You grin as you watch Bucky play with him, running back and forth across a small area of the dog park, a large rope toy in his hand. Every so often he stops to let Georgie catch up to him, wrestling the toy from him, and then the chase swaps.

It was so nice to see Bucky completely and unabashedly carefree. Even before Georgie came along, as you’d settled into your relationship, you’d still catch him with a sad look on his face every so often. You would both speak candidly about your pasts, and no matter how your relationship had developed, neither of you would ever be able to change what had happened.

You still wondered if being with Bucky was the right thing. Choice or not, the universe had already dictated his soulmate, and someday that fact would rear its head again. You mostly tried to ignore it, to relish in what you had while you had it, but there was a part of you that knew deep down, it wasn’t forever.

“Brave choice,” A voice speaks up from nearby you, and you turn to find a woman around your age, her own dog sat patiently by her feet. She tosses a brightly coloured ball, and the dog takes off after it.

“Excuse me?” you ask, and the woman focuses back on you. She nods in the direction of Georgie and Bucky, with a not-unfriendly smile.

“A pitbull. It’s a brave choice you know. Lotta work.”

You can tell she wasn’t trying to be rude or condescending, but her opinions rub you the wrong way despite that.

“Not really,” you reply with a tight smile and a shrug.

“Just like any dog. You have to put in the work to get the results.”

“But Pitbulls are naturally more dangerous. That’s just a fact.” The woman’s dog returns to her, dropping the ball which she then tosses again.

“I disagree,” you try to refrain from displaying your own ‘natural’ danger, but your voice still holds a sharpness.

“It’s their environment that determines that.”

The woman hums in a decidedly condescending way.

You’re glad that she decides to run after her dog a fews seconds later, ending the short, but annoying conversation.

You look back at your two boys, your stomach churning, though you aren’t really sure why. Newly being a pitbull owner, you’d seen and heard plenty of shitty opinions online and in person during your research and finding a puppy-preschool course. None of these had really bothered you that much before, you’d usually just dismiss the arguments. Now though, you feel properly upset in a way that makes your hands shake, your coffee wobbling precariously in the cup you hold.

You aren’t even aware that you’re frowning deeply until Bucky pauses, sitting on the grass with Georgie draped over his legs, both seemingly out of breath. He looks around before he spots you, his smile dropping a few seconds later when he spies your sour expression. You look away briefly, trying to rid it from your features, but it’s too late.

Bucky scoops Georgie up, the puppy happy to be held, and collects the rope toy before he begins making his way back to you, concern creasing his brow. You greet you dog first when he’s close, cupping his face and scratching behind his ears, but it’s only a thinly veiled tactic not to look at your boyfriend. It fails anyway, as he sweeps down to peck your lips chastly.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, kneeling down to place Georgie back on the ground, and connecting his lead back to his collar again.

“Nothing,” you lie, receiving a frown in response.

“Really, it’s nothing. I’ll tell you later.” you brush it off more convincingly this time, and tuck yourself into Bucky’s side as you begin walking. He seems to accept this with a flat hum, but wraps his free arm around your back and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

You walk home sharing quiet conversation, and Bucky seemingly forgets about your glare and change in mood at the park, but you don’t.

It stays with you over the next couple of days, an unsettling and building upset. You aren’t sure if it makes you angry, or sad, or guilty even. It just makes you feel bad, and every time your mind is brought back to it, the weight of the emotions hit you heavily.

You’re standing at your stove, stirring the pasta sauce for dinner when it happens again. Bucky had gone to clean up some time ago, but last you’d checked he’d been lounging on your bed, Georgie cuddled up with him.

It was wrong for people to assume off the bat that your beautiful little puppy was somehow inherently worse, more aggressive or dangerous than other dogs. He’d never hurt a fly, and as long as he was brought up well and lived in a loving household, there was no reason that would suddenly change.

Pitbulls who were abused, or existed in places where aggression was rewarded and therefore exhibiting dangerous behaviours were made that way by human involvement, not by nature. Even then, the amount of stories of rehabilitated rescue pitbulls were more than abundant!

It hits you then, like a sack of bricks.

Bucky was the pitbull.

Not literally, of course, the woman had been explicitly referring to your dog, but internally, your anger and sadness and guilt had been about something else entirely.

It makes you feel even worse all of a sudden, because it wasn’t as if you hadn’t known this. You knew Bucky’s prior life and behaviour was entirely not of his own choosing, you know that HYDRA had forged him into what he’d been, and that with his freedom he’d chosen to change, to do and be better. To make amends.

You knew this, so why did this stupid anaology hit you so differently?

Your initial reaction to Bucky showing up again in your life wasn’t unfounded, you know you shouldn’t feel guilty about that. So where did the guilt come from? Was it only because now you knew him? Because of how things had changed and what you’d become to one another?

No, you realise, again rather suddenly, a second sack of bricks.

With Georgie around now, you got to see Bucky interacting with somebody else he adored, and the differences were stark. With Georgie, he wasn’t hesitance, there was no sense of cautiousness or reproach, but with you, there was.

Bucky was always so careful with you, always soft and gentle and aware. As if he himself wasn’t entirely sure you weren’t afraid.

You swallow thickly and shakily move to turn off the stove.

He almost never touched you with his left hand, if he could help it. The physicality between the two of you only extended to the occasional kiss and the closeness you’d share when you slept most nights. He never pressed beyond that, and while that was fine with you, you see it now in a different light. You don’t want to be in a relationship where one of you always felt like you were penitent.

You wonder if he thinks he doesn’t deserve more.

Slowly your feet carry you towards your bedroom, where you stop in the doorway to take in your view.

Bucky lay against your pillows, one arm tucked behind his head, and the other resting gently on Georgie’s, softly petting. The pup perks when he hears you though, sitting up and drawing Bucky’s attention too, before he gets up altogether and darts towards you.

“Probably thinks it’s dinner time.” Bucky remarks, and you shoot him a small smile, nodding.

“I’ll do it.” You tell him quietly. You quickly go about feeding your puppy, deciding it would be better to have him aside for the time being.

When you return, Bucky is sat up more, his phone in his hand, but he shuts it off and sets it aside when you enter the room. You aren’t sure how to say what you want to say, or even if Bucky would be honest in hearing it.

You don’t say anything as you join him on your bed, quickly curling up into his side.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, and you realise he hadn’t forgotten about the day at the dog park. You draw yourself even closer, hiding your face in his shoulder as he shuffles so that he can wrap you up with both arms.

“You still feel guilty,” You murmur, unsure of if that will even make sense, but you don’t know how else to order your thoughts. Bucky pauses, and in your mind you can picture his brow furrowing and his lips turning down in the corners.

“Of course I do,” he says then, and you’re both a little surprised and relieved that you don’t have to explain yourself further.

Lifting your head, you find him staring up at the ceiling, though his eyes turn to you when you raise a hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at you.

“I really don’t want you to,” you tell him, earning you a small smile.

“I don’t think it works like that,” Bucky says, shifting again so that he can face you better.

“It does a little bit… if you think I’m still…” You fetter off, unsure of the word.

“Afraid?” Bucky supplies, and his choice of word confirms your suspicions.

“Buck… if I were even a little bit afraid, you wouldn’t be here right now,” You tell him firmly, needing him to hear you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come back to my home, or invited you inside. Trust me.”

His eyes dart away from yours, and he purses his lips.

“I don’t ever want to hurt you again,” Bucky’s voice is quiet, and you’re glad at least that he was engaging with you.

“I get it,” you tell him.

“But this isn’t going to work if you can’t trust me when I tell you something… and vice versa.”

His eyes snap to yours, and his frown deepens. You see a flash of worry in his eyes.

“If you’re always feeling like you’re walking on glass or that you need to tread carefully, that’s not really respecting my decision to be with you,” you say slowly. Bucky’s frown deepens again, and he swallows, but he nods hesitantly.

“I– I’m not saying that either of us can just forget– but at some point we have to forgive, right?”

Bucky stares at you for a moment, but slowly you see his frown lessen, and he nods again.

“I–” he cuts himself off and clears his throat.

“I never thought about it like that. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head.

“It’s okay. I understand… but Buck, you don’t have to make amends with me anymore,”

Bucky blinks, his face morphing into confusion.

“The past ten years I spent thinking I was gonna die alone, at least now I’ve got a fifty-fifty either way,” you play it off as a joke, and Bucky chortles, but he sobers quickly too, frown reappearing briefly as he cups your cheek.

“That’s a hard thing for me to come to terms with, honey… I don’t know if I’ll ever feel as though I can make up for everything. Not in a way that feels like it’s enough.” His thumb swipes gently back and forth over your cheek, and truly, you haven’t felt so safe or cherished in your entire life.

“Just start thinking about it. If it’s something you’ve never considered before, of course it’s hard to come to terms with.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips, intending to be chaste, but his hand at your cheek holds you there, and even now your heart flutters. He kisses you no more passionately than usual, but there’s a depth to it now that makes it feel brand new. It fetters off sweetly into shorter kisses, until he pecks you once more finally on the lips, before tugging you closer and kissing the top of your head.

“You may also need to come to terms with the fact I burnt dinner…” you scrunch up your nose as you admit the failure sitting on the stove, and Bucky’s whole body shakes as he laughs. He kisses your head again before his arms tighten around you.

“That ones a little bit easier, honey.”

If you like or enjoy, a comment or reblog is always highly appreciated! Thank you for reading!!!

[echo-of-sounds]

adhd

How Aizawa, Toshinori, and Hizashi would help and support their s/o who as ADHD.

Warnings: nothing incredibly explicit, but a couple of these talk about sex

Aizawa Shouta

Overstimulation is hard to explain to someone who’s never experienced it. The TV, that lavender candle, the taste of tomatoes, your own hair touching your shoulder overwhelms you to the point you’re crying. Every noise is too loud. Every smell makes you feel like throwing up. Anything that touches you scrapes your skin. Every sensation is just too much.

Aizawa pays attention to anything specific that may trigger you. That lavender candle that’s too strong? He’ll throw it away. Loud restaurants or sand on the beach? Eh, he doesn’t like going out that much anyway. He’ll ask what you can tolerate and will change his shampoo, detergent, or whatever else to help you, even if it needs to be odorless. He isn’t picky so the change is easy. He’ll also come up with a nonverbal signal for you to use. Like when you walk by that store that always smells like someone poured out a thousand perfume bottles. Squeeze his shoulder and he’ll lead you someplace safe.

He isn’t bothered by fidgeting, squirming, or overall restlessness. He’s been around Hizashi most of his life and now he’s a teacher. That stuff doesn’t faze him anymore. However, if you’re a pen clicker or a beat tapper, he may snap at you once or twice. Sometimes he just wants a silent room after a long day and hearing those noises could easily set him off. He’d apologize after but will also ask if you could find something else to fidget with, something that doesn’t make noise. When you keep going back to clicking and tapping because it’s mindless, he’ll buy you multiple fidget toys that are quiet. 

He likes to think he’s pretty good handling mood swings since he can control most of his emotions quite well. But the keyword is most. His anger and frustration flare up every now and then. It all depends on his stress level and how tired he is. So when you can’t pass a level on that stupid phone game or when the bread tie is on wrong and it ignites your anger so much that you lash out to a simple question he asked, he might just snap back. An argument could brew quickly even though you aren’t actually mad at each other. 

It’s in your best interest to take some time to calm down and gather your thoughts. When you’ve relaxed, you’ll have to be the one to approach him. He won’t since you snapped first and wants you to have space. He also won’t know when you’ve calmed. You’ll find him stewing on the couch with his little pouty face. After some apologies, he’s fine. He understands you have difficulty managing emotions. He just wishes you wouldn’t take your anger out on him.

He really tries not to get frustrated with your trouble focusing and poor planning/time management. He has to keep reminding himself it’s something you struggle with- everyone has things they struggle with. But you can hear his heavy sigh as he repeats himself for the fifth time this conversation. You don’t need to apologize. He knows you did nothing wrong. His sigh is more out of exhaustion than anything. More patience is something he’ll learn for you.

Hypersensitivity is somewhat daunting to Shouta when it comes to sex. He’s generally rough, fast, and quiet in the bedroom, often without realizing. It’s his go-to setting. If he ever looked up and saw you crying because his fingers and tongue hurt, he’d feel uncertain of himself next time. To help you, he'll train himself to go slower and be gentler. He’ll also start talking more during sex to be more open with you.

Yagi Toshinori

Chores and tasks can be difficult to remember. You’ll look right at the pile dishes and not notice it. Or you’ll say you’ll do them then forget for three days. Toshi won’t get frustrated. Instead, he’ll place bright sticky notes with reminders where he knows you will see them: on your laptop, bag, pillow, or shoes. 

He’ll learn other ways to work with you. Any appointments go in your phone calendar with notifications on so you can’t ignore them. Whenever you get home, keys and wallet are placed on the counter in their designated spot. Since he has to plan his meals, he’ll set a dinner schedule for you so you don’t forget to eat. If something works, he’ll have you keep doing it. Soon, it’s part of your everyday routine and you do it without thinking.

He’s the best when it comes to handling emotions. After working as a Hero for so long, he’s built up a tolerance to people lashing out. However, if he’s having a bad day, specifically one where he’s insecure, one quick snap from you would upset him deeply. He won’t reply. He doesn’t want to fight. But he will recoil, leaving you alone. Find him when you’ve gathered yourself. If he’s ready to talk, apologize and explain why you were frustrated so he knows it wasn’t about him. Also cuddle him. He could use it.

Any fidgeting or clicking he’s fine with. It’s when you start to pull strings from your clothing, bend and twist something so much it breaks, or pick at your skin, that his concern rises. He doesn’t want you ruining anything, especially yourself. When he sees you fidgeting in a way that’s not exactly good, he’ll hold your hand, either to stop you completely or to let you play with his fingers. It’ll become second nature to him- every time you mindlessly pick at yourself, he’ll mindlessly reach for your hand.

If you’re ever out in public and become overstimulated, he’ll give you his jacket. It’s comfortable. It’s heavy. And it smells like him. He’ll let you wear it and direct you towards a quieter area to sit for a while. If he can’t leave with you, because he is All Might and does attract a lot of attention, he’ll drape it over your shoulders and tell you to go find someplace to rest while he talks to the people swarming you. He’ll find you after and ask what you want to do.

The ebb and flow of your sex drive isn’t a problem for him. During the times where sex has no appeal to you because it’s too many sensations at once, he takes care of himself. When you are in the mood, he’s very aware of your sensitivities. His hands remain light as they run over your skin. His fingers slip tenderly into you. His tongue is gentle with every lick. 

Reaching orgasm is another struggle that’s beyond frustrating. You’re aroused, enjoying every sensation, almost there, then your mind is somewhere else entirely and you’ve lost the build-up. Any accommodations to help you focus, such as a dim room with no noise, he’ll do it. It’ll also let him hear every small sound that comes from you, creating a more intimate moment. It also helps that he loves foreplay- cuddling, kissing, caressing, anything he can get. It relaxes your body, making you in tune with intimacy rather than just reaching your orgasm.

Yamada Hizashi

Hizashi is a physical person. He loves hugging and cuddling. He also loves to talk and sing. All are great qualities by themselves. But if you’re prone to overstimulation, the constant noise and touching can be difficult to manage. Especially since he does it without thinking or telling you- he’ll all of a sudden plop down on your lap or hold your waist or start whistling right next to your ear. If he ever set you off, even if it was an accident, he’d feel terrible. He’ll begin to ask if you’re okay for some cuddling and he’ll tune down the volume of his singing. It might take some time however since he’s always done it without thinking.

Anything that helps you, he’ll buy. Seriously, he’ll buy you so much friggin’ stuff. Blankets, fidget toys, puzzle boxes, candles you find soothing, soft towels, the list goes on. You’ll need to tell him to stop when he brings home a ninth weighted blanket. He might protest and pout a little, saying he just loves you and wants you to know that. Explain that you do, in fact, love him and everything he does but there’s only so many anxiety bracelets one can wear before their arm weighs ten pounds. At least he uses the toys and blankets as well so it isn’t a waste.

You don’t need to hide your excitement and knowledge. If you want to ramble about the differences between Homotherium, Smilodon, and Dinofelis Hizashi will listen with a giant smile on his face even though he has no idea what you’re talking about. He’ll ask questions just to keep you talking because he adores seeing you so excited about and immersed in a subject. In his free time, he’ll look up whatever you were talking about so he can follow along better. And when you’re done, expect him to start venting about a new band he found or some weird instrument he really wants to get.

Being impulsive and blurting out your thoughts before someone else gets to finish their sentence can be annoying to some. It’s not to Hizashi. He does it too and understands that sometimes your mouth starts moving before your brain can consider if it was a good idea. Your conversations are a lot of back and forth babbling while the original context gets lost.

Disorganized? Cluttered? He’s right there with you. To keep your place from getting absolutely chaotic you will need to set aside days for cleaning. It’ll go great until you get distracted by the book you haven’t seen for ten years. And he’ll join you, playing the harmonica he thought he lost.

The desire for or needs during sex can suddenly change. That sex position you loved two days ago could be overstimulating today. Be open with him about where you don’t like being touched and whenever you feel too stimulated. He’s mindful and will focus on all the places you love. And since he likes talking during sex, he’s always checking if you’re comfortable with whatever position you’re in. If he sees your focus shifting, he’ll bring you back with deep kisses and a few tickles to your sides.

You know what? When you think about it, he probably has ADHD as well. Good luck trying to keep each other on track.

[m-oana-archive]

A Love Too Heavy (For Just One to Hold) pt. 2

catch up on pt. 1

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader x Remus Lupin

Words: 2,595

Summary: After pining after Y/N for years, Sirius finally gets the girl: the happy ending the story is supposed to end with.  The only problem is the fact Sirius’ feelings for Remus still haven’t seemed to go away.  But he isn’t the only one starting to question their ability to love two people at the same time.

requester: @shinysilverunicorn-blog  | read on AO3 | Masterlist

Remus’ POV 

Y/N was looking effortlessly sunkissed when she entered the library.  Remus, ever the early bird, was already at their usual table waiting.  Books were out, parchment unrolled.  But he didn’t actually begin working, just had the illusion of doing such, so that he could seem as though he was caught off guard by looking up and seeing Y/N, instead of her knowing the truth of his patient waiting for her.  About halfway across the library to their table, they caught eyes.  Y/N smiled at him, and he tapped his inked quill so quickly against the parchment he felt some blue splatter onto the back of his hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized, even though it was Remus that was early, and both of them knew it.

Remus smirked.  “What’s the expression?  A queen is never late?”

“Ha ha,” she mocked, sliding into her chair to unpack her things.  “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not looking to run a country, just pass my N.E.W.T.’s.  Not all Slytherins are that ambitious.”  

“I could see you as royalty,” Remus said, sinking back into his chair, dramatizing the act of envisioning, enjoying that it made Y/N blush and giggle slightly.  

“Well, Sirius is already basically royalty, so that helps.”

Remus scoffed, annoyance masking other emotions.  “If that’s not true I’m not sure what is.”  

While Remus found his comment funny, something dark fell across Y/N’s face, causing her to teeter in her chair and purse her lips.  Remus’ mind scanned the exchange for anything he could have done wrong, but couldn’t find anything.  So, he went to ask what was wrong.  Before he could, she answered.

“Speaking of, you’re not mad at Sirius or anything, right?”

Every bone in Remus turned into brick.  Was it fair to say to Sirius’ girlfriend, the obvious messenger of this information, that he didn’t know?  Was it fair to say to Sirius’ girlfriend, the cause of this frustration, that he wasn’t sure where the anger was pointed at?  Was it fair to his best friend to say everything he wanted to, after hiding for so long, just to end up at more questions, ones he didn’t know the answers to?  

No.  So Remus settled with a rather choked up, “Why would I be mad?”

“He said you two were arguing.  Something small that turned into a bigger deal than it needed to be.”

Oh.  So that’s what he thinks of me saying I want him.

Remus cleared his throat, though he knew it wouldn’t help and it didn’t.  “Oh, yeah.  Um, I’m over it on a logical level.  I’m just waiting for my emotions to catch up.”

“Cool,” she smiled brightly.  “Sirius said almost the same.”

All of the furniture in the library seemed to topple over for a second.  Maybe it was the fact that Remus squinted when he thought, and everything was following the motion of the spiral of his eyelids.  Or, maybe, it was the fact that Y/N has just said Sirius wasn’t over their possibility of kissing either.  How close they had been; if Remus just leaned in slightly, it would have been breath on breath, lips on lips, with the same softness but necessity of the moonlight echoing itself onto the lake.  Was Sirius covering up the same truth Remus had been aching with for the last year?  Ever since that stupid game of spin the bottle, when Remus realized it wasn’t cockiness that made him wish the bottle would have pointed to his body on Sirius’ turn, but desire.  The hope that if Sirius would have been forced to kiss him, maybe, after doing so, it would turn into something he missed, something he longed for, something he wanted to repeat.

That was what happened to Remus, after all.

It was a tall order, though, asking Sirius to switch adorations overnight.  Sirius had yearned over Y/N so deeply and thoroughly—Remus once found a scrap of a love poem while cleaning, which caused him pain both from its cheesiness and from a jealousy he had yet to name—it was hard to imagine him loving someone else.  Especially someone as ugly and flawed in comparison to her.

Sitting with her here, now, and every time before this, Remus couldn’t blame Sirius for wanting to be with her.  She seemed to have the best parts of all of them: Sirius’ mindless beauty, James’ massive heart, Peter’s agreeability, and Remus’ quickness.  And then, of course, all of the wonderful qualities that were definitively hers.  There were fleeting times in their shared sanctuary of the library that Remus forgot Sirius and his feelings for him.  Where, in the privacy of their similarities, Remus forgot he could be happy with anyone except Y/N.  

To restrain complications, he labeled those moments as I’m that happy because I’m forgetting about Sirius, or My feelings for Sirius are valid because of how happy she is with him.  There was a third option, of course, but that thought was a rainstorm he didn’t want to walk into.  

“Cool,” he agreed.  He smiled back at Y/N, genuinely because he was happy to be with her, but also with a certain grittiness, because he was too conflicted to be happy in general.  The hidden indifference of it seemed to set the tone for the rest of the meeting, which was far more focused and serious than ones they had had more recently.  So focused, in fact, neither noticed the sunset streaking the sky, followed by black falling around outside.

The next interruption was hours later, by Ms. Greenpaw, the librarian about to retire.  Remus adored her instantly; she wore thick, circular coral glasses and called everyone “honey,” even when upset.  He wasn’t sure if it was the hours they spent in the library, Ms. Greenpaw’s looming retirement, or both, but Remus and Y/N were granted an extra set of magical keys to close the library up if she left before they did.

“Hi, you two,” she said, pulling Remus’ head out of his book.  “Well, I’m headed out for the night.  I spelled off most of the candles in here, but I can put more on if you need more.”

Remus looked up; Ms. Greenpaw wasn’t kidding: every chandelier and sconce was dark except the one over their heads and one near the grand doors.  Something inside of him said this was romantic, making him ready to deny, until—

“I’m perfectly fine,” Y/N responded.  “Remus?”

He blanked for a moment.  “Yeah, uh… my eyes are already so tired, the softer light is actually pretty nice.”

“Wonderful!  Well, I’ll leave you both to it, then.”

Y/N called out a note of thanks to Ms. Greenpaw as she walked off—something Remus was still too startled to do.  As soon as the doors closed, promising their security, Y/N sofly said Remus’ name.  He looked up to her, eyes still slightly narrowed from reading his book.  

“You’ve been so quiet,” she said.  She wouldn’t meet his eyes fully, her focus refusing to settle.  “I know you don’t usually have issues with Sirius, and you’d think that I’m probably the last person who’d want to hear them fully, since we’re dating.  But I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep secrets from me.  You’re still my best friend.”

She shifted in her seat before continuing: “I know something’s changed since I started dating Sirius.  You’ve been more closed off.  I don’t want to pretend I know why.  So if you want to talk about it, I’m still here for you.”

A new guilt rose inside of Remus; he had experienced regret from having feelings for Sirius, for those feelings not disappearing the moment Sirius and Y/N got together, and for not knowing the difference between jealousy and desire.  But, he had never fathomed that the closed-off-ness he developed while trying to suppress his dangerous emotions would make Y/N believe he no longer trusted her.

The thought was so overwhelming he immediately said, “You’re one of the most important people in the world to me.  And I…” He tilted his head down, unable to bear even her dim silhouette.  “I didn’t mean to hide.  But it’s better that way.  Trust me.”

“Remus, nothing can be bad enough I don’t care to know.”

Remus considered the gravity of her statement for a second.  Obviously, she couldn’t blame him for loving Sirius.  But what would she think of him not knowing how he felt about her?  Not understanding how those could exist at the same time?  It seemed impossible.  

“No,” Remus decided at once.  He got up the next instant, sloppily swiping his belongings into his bookbag.  “No.  It is bad enough.”

He heard his name being called from across the table, but was off, walking so quickly to the door he was almost running.  He heard books sliding across wood, a chair scraping against the floor, a sound that must have been Y/N’s shoes hitting the tile behind him in quick succession, suggesting she was sprinting to catch up to him.  But his focus on the door was relentless.  Then, there was a tug on his arm that couldn’t be ignored.  Out of the surprise of it, his body spiraled around itself: an effect Y/N must not have had anticipated, as she continued moving forwards, resulting in her running into Remus head-on.

“Y/N,” he gasped.  He tried to steady her, but she did so first by clutching onto the shirt fabric around Remus’ chest.  Out of some instinct that could not be named, Remus felt his hand moving, fingers gripping around her wrist.

After a few moments of catching her breath, Y/N looked up at Remus.  It was only at that moment that Remus recognized how close they were to one another.  She already had her hands on him, softening them as she became more stable, and he became dizzier.  Especially with the single light behind her, distant now, which made what could happen next seem like a secret capable of keeping, a risk worth taking, a mistake worth making.  The world was the way the candlelight shone upon her face, making Remus’ hand twitch with the desire to trace those shadows.

“Y/N,” he said.  But it was different this time.  

She looked up at him.  At his eyes.  At his lips.  Remus was going to die right there, in the middle of the library, a corpse good for nothing except loving people he could not bear the affections of.  But then, her gaze dropped to the floor.  Her voice wavered.  “Remus, I just…”

“I know,” he sighed, nodding in defeat.  There were things Remus knew he excelled at—school, not getting in trouble for pranks, hiding the fact he is a werewolf—but in some aspects of life, he had to accept he would always be second to Sirius Black.  This was one of them.  His corpse was back to being good for nothing except loving people he could not have.  

“But you really don’t.  It’s not… this has nothing to do with you.  Alright?  I just need you to know that much.”

“Thanks for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech,” Remus scowled.  “How comforting.  I’m touched.”  He wanted to put his hand to his heart for dramatic effect, but Y/N’s hands were still on his chest.  Regardless of how he knew the length of time they stayed there would make their release all the more painful, Remus wanted them to stay, the pathetic idiot he was.  

“It’s not like that,” Y/N said.  “I just can’t do that to Sirius.  To be honest, I think I’m in love with him.  And I think he might feel the same.”

Remus scoffed: Y/N saying Sirius might love her was the understatement of the century.  But he didn’t focus on that.  He couldn’t.  Instead, what intrigued him was this thought: “So, in the condition, you weren’t with Sirius, you’d kiss me.  Is that what you’re saying?”

Remus was surprised at how calm his voice came out; he was even more surprised, however, by how panicked Y/N’s was.  “Listen… it’s just that I may have had a massive thing for you when we first met, and for a bit afterward.”  Remus was sad and elated all at once; to know he could be loved was revolutionary, but realizing he had missed his chance with the girl he now was mad for was an emptiness that was beginning to slowly eat him from the inside out.

He covered all of the sinews of his emotions with anger: “So what you’re saying is that you only chose Sirius because I wasn’t available?”

“No,” Y/N demanded.  She yanked her hands back to her own body: a testament to her level of frustration.  “I didn’t go to him because I was sad and lonely and heartbroken and wanted to use him.  I liked him at the same time as you.  I just couldn’t figure out who I liked more.  You took yourself out of the running, so I accepted his invitation to Hogsmeade.  And I’m happy I did.”

Remus blinked, dazed.  “Can you say that again?”

“Why?  You heard me.”

“No, just the part—”

“The part where I refuted your claim that I only wanted to date Sirius because I couldn’t date you, which, if I would have done, would make me a rude, selfish, manipulative person?”

“I didn’t…” Remus struggled, biting the bottom of his lip in agony, wishing he could bring her closer so she could see the blood that was sure to come up, how much he hated himself for having said that.  “I didn’t mean that.  Okay?  I’ve been such a git today.  I’ve been completely awful to you.  I’m sorry for saying that, and for making you think I didn’t trust you.  I’m just… I’m really confused about some things right now.  And I’m taking it out on you.  I’m sorry.”  

Suddenly, all of the anger, the screaming, the vehemence disappeared, leaving nothing but a quietness strong enough to drive any man crazy.  Remus stood as Y/N considered him, her thoughts impossible to know.  She kept looking and thinking.  Remus was just standing.  It felt like forever.

She finally spoke.  “I don’t want to force anything out of you,” she said, words were spoken with meticulous care that echoed what they meant.  “I just think that maybe you’re exploding because you’re bottling things up, and nothing can be figured out if it’s never put out into the world to be understood.”

Remus wanted to protest, but every part of his body that wasn’t his mouth knew that Y/N was right, so he couldn’t.  Instead, he shook his head.  “I don’t think you’re going to like what you are going to hear.”

“We’ve already fought,” Y/N shrugged.  “If it’s bad enough it’s doing that, I think we’ve got to just rip the bandaid off.”

Remus breathed in deeply, closing his eyes.  There were so many confusing truths inside of his body; if someone were to put his tears in a Pensieve, all that would be floating around were thoughts of Y/N and Sirius, together, apart, in love, in love with him.  He saw them all right now in the black of his eyelids.  But how many to say now?  Which to choose first?

Some part of Remus that wasn’t his mind answered for him.

“Y/N, I have feelings for Sirius.”

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

PART THREE IS AVAILABLE NOW!!! Read here. 

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @astertist @beskarjedi @bluemadcnna @boring-viola @carolinesbookworld @finnofamerica @fortisfiliae @gabriel-r3ap3r-reyes @gryffndor @jamcspotters @just-some-nerd @lonelyheart-jadedsoul @neewtmas @portkeys-and-prose @siriusement @siriuslyimmoony @sly-vixen-up2nogood @swellwriting @the-apple-princess @theboywhocriedlupin @who-cares-unknown @woakiees @wzardings @samcycle @luckygirl144

[twisted-trunk]

 I Don’t Have Time for This [A Day In The Life]

I drag myself up from my bed, heaving heavy winter blankets off of me. I take one step away from my place of rest and despair. My medicine, pills placed in two separate containers; morning and night, lay on the dresser that functions more as a tall nightstand. Choosing the one closest to the door, I squint and try to remember the day. It shouldn’t be so hard between taking my meds and keeping my medical diary. Good thing I don’t fully close the tab from the day before. 

I take my medicine: some float on the water in my mouth, some are small, some are big. I down half my water bottle. My heating pad clinks to life as I tap the remote on the cord three times then slink back into place. I maneuver my laptop in front of me, slightly tilted then click on a YouTube video.

The window for sleep is gone. 

I’m tired. 

I open my phone. 

The time flashes brightly at me then gives way to my home screen. I click the weather app. The barometer reads 1023 hPa (hexopascals; normal or one atmosphere is 1013 hPa), last night ended at 1018 hPa. What’s the point in this, I ask myself even as I dutifully record it in my medical diary; I feel like shit either way and it’s been doing fucking backflips. 

Next, I record the time: 6:35. It’s winter. The sun isn’t up. My birds are, for the moment, quiet. The house isn’t awake. Save for the annoying neighbor that straight-piped their muffler, the world is quiet. The fish tank’s filter pours water back down into the tank. Car lights flash on the wall through the slight opening my layered curtains allow. Soon, the sun will come and the light will force its way into my world far before I’m ready. 

I can already tell it won’t be a cloudy day. 

I click a new YouTube video, something’s ought to catch my attention. I pray the depression med will finally do something. I pray the rest of the medicine with do something. The dose of one has been upped, there has to be a difference, right?

Through muscle memory, I click through apps. Weather. Instagram. Solitaire. Tumblr. Instagram. Safari. Solitaire. 

I check the time. 

6:53 am. 

Unconsciously, I sigh. I check my blogs though I know nothing’s new, no one has interacted with them; no notifications tell me otherwise. Still, though, I check. Maybe someone will want to talk with me. I think I expressed that enough? I hope I did. 

I don’t want the disaster or awkwardness from attempting to make conversation first but then really having nothing to say besides please talk to me, give me something, anything, I need something to take my attention away. Let me know I’m not alone. 

7:03 am. 

Light is invading more of my space. I pull the stiff blankets up as a pathetic barrier against it. I exit the YouTube video and search my recommended for something. 

I refresh. 

I refresh again. 

One more time. I click on something. I play with my phone again. The water continues to fall and splash. I open a different app. The noise grates on my thin nerves if I focus on it. I try my mindless games. Nope. 

I flow through Instagram and tumblr and instagram again. 

8:59 am. 

It’s bright and I don’t want to get up but I’m thirsty, and it’s a horrible feeling and my mouth is dry and my doctor even prescribed me to drink more and I don’t want a kidney stone. 

I don’t know how long it takes, but I get up and trample around my bed to fold the curtains in. The best it’ll get. The room is shaded only slightly; more so if it were darker out. Winter, I think, it’ll be darker, I think, but as ever, I remind myself that snow reflects light and it will be worse than a bright summer’s day.  

I grab the same cup I used the day before. My inner germaphobe winces but nothing’s been in there but water; I barely had enough energy yesterday to make myself a small bowl of pasta. 

I throw my forlorn, now warm compress into the freezer and ensure it’s shut with a knee to handle. I hate this freezer. 

I refill my glass and go to the bathroom. 

I come back and stand in front of my bed. Just do it, it think. You’re already up, I think. 

I shame myself into doing my physical therapy—at least the exercises I am able to do. Halfway through my first, I remember the ones I could have done before ever getting up to warm myself up for the rest. That was the plan I’d had for two weeks yet could never quite do it without flipping the order. I’ll lay down again anyway, after this I won’t have much pith and vinegar left. 

I never do. 

A few in, the hardest ones, I feel sick. Whether it be the “exhaustion” or unintentional dehydration or my poor eating habit courtesy of a very sickly stomach, I don’t know. 

I grit my teeth and focus on whatever distraction I’d last clicked on. 

I do some stretches in the middle, finish what’s left of it all while I’m still up. Then I lay down. I open my phone again as I begin this round of exercises and stretches. 

10:15 am. I write down when I started in my medical diary, giving a very wide birth of time considering my... inabilities. 

I click through apps again. YouTube plays in the background. My birds rise to an unknown challenge. I get up and whisper sweet nothings at them, half chiding them for being so damn loud. They direct their complaints directly at me. I give them food and open their cage doors. One flies directly onto my shoulder. Another makes declaration and flies past me to a tall perch. Two others share the same shyness. The rest take their time. Despite the time I’ve spent with them and my attempts at training over the last year or so, the second two flee my attempts to hold them. The last addition plain out tries to bite me. He doesn’t do it hard and still takes my finger as a perch, but his cuddlebug-ness needs direction. Still, he has his moments. I mumble at him and lightly chide him, petting him with my cheek as one hand has my phone and the other is holding him. I set my phone down and make entreaty towards the shyer two. They make exclamation and half hearted attempts to flee. They’ll come around. They all will, eventually. But now I have to lay down again. 

I pause in my room again. I look around. At what, I’m not quite sure, the thoughts come and go, barely a thing left behind. I mull on the thought of food. 

Nah. Nothing’s “ready.” Pulling something together seems too much. I set my cuddle bug on a perch on their birdy playground I have set up in my room. It’s next to the bike I got as an early Christmas present. 

I gather my laptop and make myself comfortable on the bike. I watch a YouTube video, my phone still open on solitaire. 

The video ends. I catch a glimpse of the time: 11:45 am. 

Nearly time to take my midday pills, I think as my legs continue to move and my finger clicks on another video. 

Finally, something catches my attention. 

I still play solitaire on my phone. 

I add a science-y video to my watch list. 

I check the barometer. 

1019 hPa. 

I keep peddling. 

1:51 pm. 

I get up and take my midday pills. 

I blow kisses to my birds as I refill my water. 

I stare at the counter for a minute. Food, I think, it’s about time. I need food. I evaluate my appetite and what my stomach would accept. Spaghetti, I decide. I retrieve my laptop and listen to a tiktok while I wait for the water to boil, and eat. 

I retreat back to my room to lay down and record the time I took my meds and ate. 

I text a friend. Something they say triggers me. I take a breath. That’s not how they meant it, I say to myself and do my best to tone down my response. It still comes off rudely. I hope they don’t take it the wrong way. 

3:47 pm. 

The light has faded some, the shadows have shifted. 

My friend and I make light conversation. Something viscerally in me feels off. It’s like when I dread something. 

I try to distract myself. 

3:51 pm. 

I move back to my bike. 

3:56 pm. 

I keep peddling. 

4:03 pm. 

I keep peddling. 

4:08 pm. 

I keep peddling. 

4:12 pm. 

I keep peddling. 

4:16 pm. 

I refill my water bottle. 

4:23 pm. 

I keep peddling. 

4:27 pm. 

I keep peddling. 

4:34 pm. 

I keep peddling. 

1022 hPa. 

My room is slightly darker than before. A YouTube compilation drones in my vision. 

Tomorrow will be rinse and repeat.

For the nth time, I think about all that I could be doing. I know why I can’t yet I shame myself all the same. 

I find something interesting to watch. 

Then refresh. 

And refresh.

And refresh. 

And refresh. 

I give up and turn to Netflix. 

Nothing. 

Something borderline interesting. 

6:50 pm. 

Dinner, maybe? Energy level? Nada. I’ll think about it later. 

Another video plays. I play on my phone, half interested in everything. 

7:13 pm. 

Dinner? 

I need food, I think. 

Can’t. 

I’ll regret it, I know. 

I’ll probably binge some in the morning whenever I get up. 

I don’t move from my place. I try to down talk myself for bed, for the hope of not staying up half the night. 

I drag myself up from my bed, heaving heavy winter blankets off of me. I take one step away from my place of rest and despair. My medicine, pills placed in two separate containers; morning and night, lay on the dresser that functions more as a tall nightstand. I take my medicine: some float on the water in my mouth, some are small, some are big. I down half my water bottle. My heating pad clinks back to life as I tap the remote on the cord three times then slink back into place. I close my laptop and set it further from me. 

That sickly feeling comes back. 

I realize it’s dread. 

I open my phone. 

[NOTE: this is not about suicide—I noticed after writing this that some things could be taken in such a way, hence this note.]

12/7/20

To those suffering: I see you; I support you; I love you.

~Rosa ❤️

[calpalirwin]

According to Plan

A/N: Chapter 8, here we go!

And away, and away we go!

~~~

Chapter 8

Ashton

~~~

The rest of the day went much more smoothly. We had Calum and Riley with us in French, and all eight of us had Stats together. We all laughed as we walked into math class and took our seats. “This is definitely one of the better class schedules I’ve had,” I said, clasping my hands behind my head.

I glanced over at Madison, her desk perfectly organized, her nose buried in a book. When the first bell rang, she closed her book and went to put it in her bag, stealing a glance at me. Rather than smiling, I winked at her. I let out a small giggle when her face flushed red. 

I pulled a notebook out of my bag and dug around for a pen. I flipped it open to a page of the random doodles I’d been making all day. I continued my mindless doodling as Luke’s mom droned on about classroom expectations and the grading system. I stole glances every now and then at everybody: Mike was staring out the window and spinning his pen through his fingers, Riley was shoving Calum awake every time his head slouched, Crystal was twirling her hair, and Sierra was daydreaming. The only two out of our group paying any real attention were Luke and Madison, Madison because she needed to, and Luke because he’d get a whole lot worse than a simple detention if he didn’t.

When class was over, I walked Madison to her photo class before heading for the gym. “I can take you home after school if you want. We’re playing at your place,” I told her as we stood outside her classroom.

She smiled. Sure, I know I said I wanted to be alone to study, but I really don’t have that much to study.

I laughed, “I could’ve told you that. But, hey, if you get tired of alone time you can always come play games with us.”

I’ll keep that in mind. She stood on tiptoe to kiss me. I’ll meet you at my locker?

“I’ll be there,” I told her kissing her back before taking off to the gym.

For the next forty minutes, I pushed myself through a small workout before a series of soccer drills. My body moved with familiarity through exercise after exercise that I’d been doing for years. When the final bell rang I left the gym, my hair still damp from a quick shower. I stopped by my locker to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind before going over to where Madison was. “Hey, you ready?” I asked.

“Oh, she’s going with you?” Mike asked from the next locker.

She is right here, and yes, she is, Madison told him.

Mike put his hands up defensively, “Sorry, I’ve just been driving you around for the past 2 years, but sure, go with him.”

If you’re teasing me, you’re a jerk. If you’re actually upset, I’m sorry, but I thought you’d enjoy not having to take me everywhere.

“Deaf people drive, don’t they?” I asked.

“Yes and no,” Mike explained. “Deaf people with hearing aids or with Cochlear implants drive. But Madison doesn’t want the Cochlear implant, so she doesn’t drive either.”

“Cochlear implant…? Is that like a super advanced hearing aid?”

“Sort of? It’s like… there are levels of deafness. Madison’s tumors damaged her auditory nerves so bad that hearing aids couldn’t help her. But a Cochlear implant fixes that problem because it completely bypasses the damage by being connected right to her brain that processes sound. So yeah, super advanced hearing aid.”

“And you don’t want that?” I asked, turning my attention back to Madison.

She shook her head.

“Our parents could have done it when she was younger, but they wanted her to make that decision and asking your 10 year old if she wants to go to the doctor and have them drill into her brain… well…”

Would you let someone cut open your head twice, tough guy?

“Have you ever considered it since, though?” I asked.

She shrugged.

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t…” I paused, feeling like I was crossing a very huge line in her boundaries.

It’s okay to be curious. I have thought about it. I’m still weighing my options though. Can we go now?

I laughed and wrapped an arm around her, “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Oh, hey,” I said as we were stopped at a light a few blocks from school. “I’ve been thinking of different things we can do. Since you like movies, we could go to the drive-in.”

A drive-in? Yeah, that’d be fun.

“Cool, then this weekend I’ll take you on a proper date.”

How does driving to see a movie make a date more proper than watching a movie at home?

I took a moment to think about it. “Well…” I started, “some people think that you actually have to go somewhere for it to be an actual date.”

But why go out to do the same thing? Like if we’re watching a movie, does it really matter where? Like, if we were going to go out, why not do something that you can’t do at home… like mini golf or something?

I laughed. Only Madison would question everything I knew about dating. “Would you rather we go mini golfing instead?”

I didn’t mean that I didn’t like your idea. I’d still like to go to the drive-in. I’ve never been to one. It’s just… well I’ve always wondered if it really makes a difference. I’ve really enjoyed our 2 dates. It never occurred to me that location mattered.

“I’ve really liked our dates, too. But, like I said, some people only consider things to be a date if you actually go somewhere. Like listening to music at my house or watching a movie at yours would be considered just hanging out.”

Well, I’m not some people. In fact, I think that if a date’s definition lies solely in its location then that’s a pretty sad definition.

I laughed again. “Then what would be your definition of a date be?”

Quality time spent with a romantic interest, that is agreed by both parties to be a date.

“I think I like your definition a lot better,” I smiled.

She smiled back. That’s because it’s a rational one.

I continued to smile as I drove to her house. I really liked her. I liked the way her hand felt in mine. I liked the way she viewed the world differently than anyone I've ever met. I liked when her smiles were just directed at me. I liked the way she closed to eyes and breathed in everything around her, like she was trying to soak in every moment. I liked the way she was everything I could possibly need.

My smile continued well into playing videogames with the guys in the Cliffords’ basement. Without the girls, we were able to go through games without having to pause every few seconds; and without Madison, it was a pretty even match with each of us winning a few games.

The four of us were so deep into a trance- eyes glued to the screen, fingers rapidly hitting buttons- that we didn’t hear the basement door open, then shut, and the footsteps of someone coming down the stairs. So, who’s winning? Madison signed as she moved to block the TV. Somebody hit pause on their controller.

“Jesus, fuck, Mads!” Mike cursed, “You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

She flipped him off. Ha-ha, the deaf girl sneaking up on people who can hear. You’re hilarious. She moved her way to the empty couch, a bowl of popcorn in her hands and water under her arm. She eyed the stats that were displayed on the pause screen. Hmm, looks pretty even.

“I thought you were studying?” Mike asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

It’s 4:30, she told him, as if that was the only explanation he needed.

“Shit, already?” Mike took out his phone, typing out a message, then shoving the phone back into his pocket.

“Well, we’re almost done with this game if you want to join in on the next one,” I told her.

She shook her head. That’s okay. I brought you guys some popcorn if you’re hungry. She placed the bowl on the coffee table before lounging into the couch. Did you want me to leave? she asked Mike after a few moments of silence.

“What?” Mike shook his head and looked up from his phone that had found its way back into his hand.

Your game? Did you want me to leave you guys alone?

“No, I actually gotta get going,” Calum said getting up. “I should probably spend a little time with Ry before I go home.”

I nodded, understanding. Unless it was a weekend, Calum had the earliest curfew of anyone I've ever met. It was part of the reason why he was top of our class; the other part being that he was basically a genius, ahead of Luke in every subject that wasn’t math. “You at your mom’s or dad’s this week?” I asked him.

“Dad’s,” Calum laughed, “just as I get used to home cooked meals again.”

I laughed with him. His dad had always been a terrible cook. I don’t remember his dad ever making us a grilled cheese that wasn’t burnt to a crisp. “Good luck, man.”

“Yeah, see ya.” He nodded a goodbye at the twins and Luke before heading up the stairs.

“I should get going, too,” Luke said, getting up himself. He had the second earliest curfew of anyone I knew- a byproduct of his mom being a teacher. “See ya, guys.”

“See ya,” we told him.

I stretched, suddenly feeling very awkward. I blew my breath out in a huff and clapped my hands down on my legs. “I should probably get going, too, I guess.”

Did I do something? Madison asked, chewing on her lip.

“Mads, it’s fine,” Mike told her.

Are you lying? She stared hard at our faces.

“It’s fine, really. Cal and Lu have ridiculous curfews,” I said.

Then why are you leaving? she countered.

“Because I haven’t written that assignment for French class like you have.”

Her eyes lit up. I was too busy organizing my photos I forgot about that!

Mike looked at her, “You forgot something? School-related? Yeah, right…” He picked up his controller and started playing on his own.

Well… no, I know about the assignment. I just don’t know what to write it on.

“He does this assignment every year. All you have to do is write about what you did this summer and what you hope you’ll accomplish this year,” I explained.

And then present it to the class, she added.

“It’s really not that bad. It’s just a silly activity he uses to assess our abilities to write and speak in French.”

Yay, talking. My favorite...

“C’mon, we can help each other write them. I can even practice mine because you can’t make fun of how badly I speak French.”

Ha-ha. She smiled. C’mon, we can work in my room.

We made our way up the basement stairs and ran into her mom. “Oh, hey! How was school?” she asked.

Fine, we’re going upstairs to work on some homework.

“Okay. Dad’ll be home soon, dinner at six; you know the drill. Ashton, you’re welcome to join us.” Mrs. Clifford turned to me and smiled.

“Thanks, but I told my mom I’d be home for dinner,” I answered.

“Okay, well you’re welcome any time.”

Mom, we got homework to do… Madison signed impatiently.

“Right, keep the door open.”

Madison turned bright red, took my hand, and led the way to her room. Um, you can use my desk if you want. She closed her laptop and placed it on top of her school books, clearing room for me.

“Thanks.” I sat at her desk and unzipped my bag, taking out my notebook and a pen. I drummed the pen against my leg, “What did I do this summer?” I thought aloud before I began writing. I looked over at Madison. She was bent over her notebook, scribbling away. Every now and then, she’d pause, read over her work silently, her lips moving, then frown. “Everything okay?” I asked.

Struggling with the pronunciation. I went deaf before I ever learned French so I don’t know what it’s supposed to sound like.

“So, like what happened? I mean, I know you had tumors but like... If you don’t mind me asking.”

She held up a finger. Then, in her slow, steady voice. “We didn’t know I had them until I was nine. The tumors were slow growing. And non-cancerous, so I have nothing to worry about now. It affected my balance first, but my parents just thought I was extra clumsy. Then I developed a ringing in my ears. It was annoying, but tolerable. Then, my hearing got fuzzy. My teachers told my parents that I was having trouble paying attention in class. They brushed it off, because my grades were still good. Then one day I couldn’t hear at all and that’s when we went to the doctors.”

“Shit…” I breathed.

She nodded. “It sucked. They said I was a rare case because these tumors normally only grew on one side. I had surgery and we tried hearing aids for a bit, but I still struggled. That’s when we all learned sign language, and I started learning to read lips.”

“But, Mike said you could get that implant and that would help.”

She nodded. “Yeah, they suggested that when the hearing aids didn’t work. But, I had just gone through a scary surgery and didn’t want to go through another one. I had gone from being a normal kid, to the girl with tumors, to the deaf girl within six months. I didn’t want to be the girl with implants on top of everything else.” She closed her eyes for a second. “Talking makes me tired, sorry.”

“Who do you want to be then?”

She thought about it. “I want to be Madison Grace Clifford: a 17 year old senior on the fast track to early acceptance at Yale, photographer extraordinaire, and Ashton… um… what’s your middle name?”

I laughed. “Fletcher,” I said. “My middle name is Fletcher.”

She smiled. “And Ashton Fletcher Irwin’s girlfriend.”

I rolled the chair over to her and kissed her, hard. I loved being able to hear her call herself my girlfriend. “Good, because I really like that Madison.”

[the-static-silence-of-pastels]

Can a Heart Still Love, Even If It’s Stopped Beating?

Word Count: 5900+ (written in 4hrs from 1-4 AM, have mercy on my grammar and mistakes.)

Warnings: Gore for a bit, then just a lot of angst with a sort of happy ending (depends on who you ask). Not sure if there are any other things I need to flag, so I’ll let you be the judge of that.

There’s an unscratchable itch within him. A little left of his spine, underneath the skin of his pectoral. It’s been there since that morning, but the build has been going on for months. The itch has reached what he assumes is its peak, but he knew he’d never be sure of that. God, he hopes this is the peak. This stupid itch, so hard to scratch and get rid of, that’s been leaving him frustrated for months. But it’s something he can’t reach, something buried under skin and bone.

He feels like screaming some days. Letting out all the fury trapped within that bides its time alongside the itch. And if the fury and frustration alone didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity, the feeling sure would. He can just imagine, though it’s not his forte, what is causing the itch. Maybe it’s some kind of abnormal vessel but going on for this long would mean his death. Perhaps it’s just a stupid prank that’s been left to simmer under his skin and drive him to the foulest of moods. Better yet it could be what it feels like; thousands of tiny insects crawling around, burrowing towards the skin as if they were…

He allows that thought to trail off. Such horrid conceptions are not his field, nor will they ever be. He is resolute in such things. And yet the feeling has only been building. It’s as if he’s dipping a toe, no, his torso into the river of madness that must flood Remus’ mind.

And right on cue the tinnitus appears. He never realised it before, but it seems to appear when his thoughts fade into that direction. The direction of seemingly inescapable insanity looped around mindless madness, entangling themselves like a series of knotted snakes. Twisting, writhing, slithering to escape, and yet unable to.

He feels a little lightheaded. Maybe death has finally come for him and will spare him of this horrid itching. Or maybe it’s just his imagination. Either way he would welcome a death right now. It’s as if he can see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing, and yet the ringing intensifies tenfold and the itching, oh the itching, the scraping of whatever inside is causing such discomfort-

‘Hey, Mensa dropout! Your line.’

Right, that’s right. The video.

‘You can’t…you can’t drop out of Mensa. Mensa isn’t a school or a college, you can’t drop out of it. Are you talking about that album by MC Motyčka?’

‘At least we got you back, cicada three-three-oh-snore. And no, I wasn’t. Just read the damn lines.’

Yeah, like that isn’t a chore right now. Where are we, where-are-we, wherearewe? Ah, there. Now I just have to make the words stop swimming. Line up, line up. Damn it. And he’s tapping his foot, of course. Look if you think you’ve got troubles, try being me prince bull-

‘Are you sure these are my lines?’

He looks so angry. Oh, like you’re such a peach to work with.

‘Yes. They are your lines.’

Lots of emphasis. Must be pretty pissed off. I don’t think I can do this right now. Let’s see if Patton’s pity card will get me out of this.

‘I don’t exactly feel up to par. Could we perhaps-’

‘Oh teach, what’s wrong? What’s got you feeling so bad? Are you sick? What’s up?’

Nice, now here come the questions. I can do this, just get them off the trail.

‘I’m in perfect health. I just think that, especially at this time, it may be a good point for us to turn in. It’s far past when we usually stop, and we can pick up perfectly well tomorrow morning. I don’t see why we must record so much tonight. And as the prince of perfectionism, I thought it a good point to bring up.’

God, he looks so infuriated. Serves you right for cutting my lines, bastard.

‘Fine, fine! We’ll pick it up tomorrow, but you better be on your game, Logan.’

‘Will do, Roman.’

Ah tension, how I have missed you. Didn’t feel like a real day until you showed your ugly, repulsive, disgusting face.

He lets his shoulders drop minutely, all the better to seem like he’s actually tired. He won’t be able to sleep though. The itch is too bad today, if he tried there’d be absolutely no way, he’d get further than laying on his bed in a mass of writhing agony.

But agony would be the right word, wouldn’t it? The itch has grown, quickly and unlike any of the other days. Now the itch has manifested itself as a burning, but that’s growing and evolving from a burning to an intense jabbing, like something is poking the inside of his skin and tracing the tip of a dagger over something so incredibly sensitive that he can’t quite quantify how painful it’s becoming and that’s a problem because emotions aren’t his forte and he can’t show pain and he can’t show weakness and-

Enough. He needs to get out before they notice something is amiss. Clean up this mess, turn off the camera and make sure everything is neat and tidy before running away from this like all his other problems. He doesn’t need their pity, their worry, all of that will only morph into concern over his position. He’ll become redundant in a heartbeat if they find out he’s imagining pains and itching under his skin. It can’t be right because imagination isn’t his forte, and none of this lines up with who he is.

But it could go the other way. They’d coddle him – Patton and Virgil – and he’d get nothing done. Not like he’d been getting anything done anyway; but that’s for him to know, not for them to know. He’d never tell them though; they’d find out over his dead body. Or whatever happens when the pain stops. Death. Maybe he’ll live, but that’s not so likely. Pain is usually fatal. At least in most cases, but he has justifiable reasons to be worried for himself.

No use being morbid. Remus would be just as upset as Roman if he knew you were stepping on his turf.

‘L?’ Was he too quiet? Virgil doesn’t speak up often and when he does, and with that sort of accusation in his eyes, it’s usually important. And if anyone else hears they might pay attention. But what clues would he have to accuse him of something being amiss. No, Virgil had nothing. No proof of anything.

‘You good? You’ve been staring at that camera for, like, a full minute. Mind somewhere else?’ thank whatever God they prayed to.

‘Fine, sorry, got a little lost in thought. Something I can help you with?’ please say no, please say no. Let me off this one time so I can get over this pain and be ready for tomorrow and this stupid script.

Virgil shook his head just a little, but it was enough of a wary gesture to warrant a head tilt before he had turned around and sunk out. He felt like sighing for that.

Camera, away. Good my part all done. Let’s motor.

God that’s painful.

He’d never really been big on praying, but right about now felt like a good time to make amends as the pain ascended quickly from pricking and burning to an almighty searing. It wasn’t quite to the level of him wanting to rip his skin off, but it was getting close. Not quite screaming to the high heavens, but around the stage of tugging at his hair with no end in sight.

Maybe it’s something on my chest. Just get it off and take a look. That was what he’d tell himself and then never have the courage to do. He couldn’t really blame himself, but then again, he could. It was his mind after all. He could do whatever he wanted.

God, he sounded crazy.

Okay, yeah no. That was not good. The pain had intensified tenfold in the space of a few seconds and he was at that stage of ripping out his own hair and allowing tears to slip down his face. His breathing grew heavy, the ringing came back, everything fading out to black though he was still conscious.

The torturous pain was synonymous with nothing else he’d ever felt before. Greater than breaking a bone and enough to make him loose and not be able to regain his breath. How anyone was able to survive this was beyond him. It was like someone had taken a metal sea urchin to his chest and was pressing it into his skin from within, rolling it around inside that cavity that housed his heart and lungs. Burning, ripping, blinding pain. At least they got one part right in songs and stories, it was blinding. Blacked out vision aside, he could still feel the ground beneath him, feel his shirt and tie and clothing. Time to find out what was making it so damn hard to breathe. If it wasn’t something on his chest, maybe he could see something within his chest.

After ripping his tie away and bunching his shirt up and over his head he had a moment of clarity as his glasses fell off, able to pick them up with precisely no spots in his line of sight. For a moment he felt relief, but that quickly faded as he summoned a mirror, heard a loud gagging behind him and saw straight through the heart shaped hole in his chest as behind him Roman doubled over in shock and horror.

That would explain the lack of breath.

Yeah, the bleeding, still wet hole shaped like a heart symbol that cut right through his chest and out the back, taking out a few pieces of his ribs and moving his left lung over. Yeah, that would definitely explain the lack of breath.

They did always call me heartless. Guess they were right. But he wasn’t heartless, wasn’t supposed to be at least. People need hearts, they do a lot of things. That’s right, isn’t it? People need hearts. Those organs that are about a handful and oxygenate the blood and keep it all flowing. Yeah, they’re needed. So why was his missing? Why couldn’t he see straight, or breathe anymore? He needed to breathe, but he couldn’t. What was stopping…oh, right. He was missing his heart.

It took less than a minute for Logan to crumple to the floor. Dead and missing one of his more important organs for living. Blood leeched out of the hole, staining the carpet a deep and wet crimson as hollow breathing grew shallow and the only witness was left pale and shaking against the wall.

He’d come to yell at Logan, tell him off for stopping their progress. He hadn’t imagined their last words to be that of a tiff not a few minutes prior. Nor did he imagine he’d be holding the now bloodied corpse of someone he’d be willing to call friend on a good day, which were most days but that was beside the point.

He didn’t even notice the tears streaming down his cheeks, noticing only when one dropped onto the pale chest, stained with blood and now stained with tears. But even with all that blood he couldn’t bring himself to care as he lay his forehead against the carcass of what used to be a living, breathing Logan. He could hardly breathe, hardly do anything but sob and cry as eventually he raised his head and began his pleas. It would always come down to this, to the pleading of life. No bargain would ever be struck to bring someone back form the dead, but he had hope. And even if he didn’t, he’d plead; because he couldn’t handle going on with this as the last memory he had of their logic.

Worry and fear brought Virgil, love and concern brought Patton. The pleading for life brought an idea.

‘Remus,’ choked and tearful, less filled with the venom it usually had and more filled with a kind of hopeless desire, ‘Remus, get out here.’

It wasn’t a plea that needed to be made twice. Once was enough to bring the usually sickly smiling side out with a sombre and emotionless gaze that lingered too long on the body for the brother’s liking. But he wasn’t about to leave his position. His post, his protective stance in the matter, lest Logan fade away or suddenly vanish; however stupid that may sound to another.

‘You’re good at this, aren’t you? You twisted little bastard. Make him a heart.’ It was a command. One none of them could refuse the call for.

With a nod, four steps and a single sweep into a crouch the tedious night began. A night that brought with it many retries, many close calls for violence between brothers, much blood lost, but finally a result came.

Pulsing in place, gently covered by the left lung and ribs, flesh restitching itself back together, they found what they so desired.

And so, they waited. Night turned to dawn, to day, to afternoon, to dusk, to night again. Whether it was out of love for the other or hatred for himself, the prince kept by the teacher’s side whilst the others worked around him. Cleaning, fixing, making it new and better. Logan would hate to wake up to a mess. Hate it.

Night became dawn again and still the vigil, a hollowed-out man, kept watch as breath was pushed and pulled from the newly repaired body. The hollow man, the tear stained prince, the ever-watchful protector of a cherished friend; no one dared to move him. No one dared to speak to him. He didn’t eat, speak, move. He barely moved his eyes from the sight before him, and yet they knew he could keep it up for as long as he cared to. They weren’t human, after all. They could survive on nothing and still thrive if their being wasn’t set in…logic.

It was a touchy and uncomfortable few days before the stirrings of a lighter sleep brought them cheer. How wonderful, how enticing, how enchanting to see some life, any life, stir from the sleeping side. No longer comatose, or not for long at least. And finally they were able to drag him away, teary and crying with an expression near ecstasy on his face, they were able to pull the last vestige of Roman from the body and get him back to where there was no death for him to be reminded of what had happened.

The subject would be one of discomfort for all of them, no side had ever come so close to vanishing form their lives before, figures the one so steeped in curious nature would be the first to try it out. How it happened, they didn’t know. Did they care? Absolutely not. Logan was on the verge of waking, of being alive once more, and they couldn’t think of the details of his close quarters encounter with whatever psychopomp that lured him to the edge right now.

Death had been a touchy subject before, taboo nearly, but now it would remain taboo for all of them forever. It wasn’t a word that conjured kind images anymore. No lifeless bodies looking serene in caskets ready to be buried six feet under. They’d be haunted by this death until they died themselves. As if that couldn’t happen soon enough now.

Sleeping would be just as bad. To know that he could very well have died in his sleep just after they’d figured out how to give him a heart back, well, sleep would always be a reminder of what could have been lost. Sleep for them seemed too still, too lifeless, too comatose for their liking. Sure, Logan hadn’t been sleeping when he die- had his close encounter. But the days following, where he could still be considered on the brink, where he still looked dead despite not having the hole and lack of a beating heart. Sleep was just too close to that. For all of them.

This wouldn’t be an issue they took lightly. And despite not having seen or heard from Remus or Deceit since they got Logan back online, they knew well and truly neither of them would dig too deep or go too far after this. Before this Remus took death too lightly in the case of friends and family, but it was uncertain how he would deal with those intrusive thoughts now, having seen and been in charge of bringing back someone so clearly dead to the world. Deceit was a different matter, not having shown up until a little after Remus. How he’d reacted was a mystery, leaving the second he saw the body. But they’d find out eventually, it would all come out eventually.

Logan woke up properly a day later, coming to while under Virgil’s care. It made the usually surly side light up for once, seeing the same set of gentle oak hues shine once more with life and awareness, in some aspect. Watching them close was no longer so heartbreaking, rather the peace that resumed was steadily making it up to the top of his list as one of his favourite things to see on the other sides. And with that he deemed it necessary to call on the others and tell them the good news, others including those who weren’t there along with those who helped out.

And that was how his gratitude towards Remus turned to despair at what news awaited the three still caring for Logan. Each allowing it to sink in as the weight it came with snagged their hearts and dragged them down to the depths of despair. How they were supposed to function was beyond them. Lacking one side they’d grown to adore and love in the way they had would be nearly enough to break each of them wide open.

The news, heartbreaking that is was, was brought to them by a regretful and mournful Deceit. Something they’d never seen and hoped to never see again. Remus, fearful and tired, kept quiet as Deceit explained their situation. As Remus was the one to create the heart, were he to forget it Logan would inevitably end up with the same fate as before. Therefore, Logan was tied to Remus in a way none of them had foreseen. Without around the clock reminding, Remus could forget, and Logan would die again, possibly to be resurrected again, but only if they could get to him in time as they had done this time. It was only, and Deceit had hesitated at that point, logical for Logan to come with them and remain in a place where Remus would always remember the act of creation he had approved.

Logan would move into Remus’ room, or he would die.

It was an idea that shocked them to the core. Froze their blood in place and chilled their bodies like frostbite. To have such a weight tied around his neck, to send Logan off without giving him a chance, it was something they had never wanted. He’d be cared for, yes, but he’d become a part of the little group that formed in rebellion of what they’d come together as. And he had no choice in the matter.

It was entirely unfair. Roman pleaded hopelessly against it, wishing he could take on Remus’ burden but knowing he couldn’t. Patton didn’t try to plead his case; he could barely talk let alone make an argument against their rock-solid logic. Virgil, well, grief will do things to a person and the five stages were not something meant to be passed through in the space of ten seconds, only for one to become stuck in place. The rage pouring off the surly side was enough to make those able to comprehend it back up, knowing he could go off at any second as Roman shed tears and Patton sat still and strangely emotionless on the couch. To gain him back only to lose him again, what cruel karma was this that had become their lives and pursued them to the point of madness.

When at last they parted ways, it was decided and over. Logan would know in due time, but they still had a few days until then. He needed strength, to stand up to the horrors that would await him.

They bid farewell in their own ways when he finally regained consciousness. After telling him of his death and their plight to bring him back they spent a few hours consoling him. Coddling what had become a shell so quickly they could barely blink between the phases. And yet they continued, they stayed. They’d seen it all in each other and couldn’t bring themselves to do much more than stay by his side as memories flashed through his eyes like a car speeding down a highway, images of the outside flashing through windows and leaving as quickly as they’d come.

It was all they could do. Sit and wait until he was in the right mindset to talk to them about it. Between themselves they’d taken to dubbing it as ‘The Incident’. A catchy name, for sure, but one that would forever haunt the insides of their eyelids.

And when at last he seemed to have brought himself to sense, to have realised he had a new lease on life, to know he was free from what bound him; then they told him of his new bonds, new shackles, new chains that would drag him away from them and to a world new and unfamiliar to him. A world that would take from him and ask for more eternally, a world that was like theirs but with no comfort, a world without them.

‘So, it would be as if I’d truly died, then?’

Those words made them choke. Spoken so casually with so little care for those around him and the trials he’d been through. Greif may have been a somewhat selfish process, but it was their process that had involved him. But they didn’t have the strength to yell or scream at him; because he was right. As he’d always been.

‘My condolences on your loss, I suppose.’

It was supposed to be humorous, but it only brought watery laughs that were too fake in all the right ways. How he was able to process this so well was beyond them, perhaps he’d seen what lay beyond the mortal realm, what he’d been forced to give up to come back. Maybe there was comfort there, but his eyes were haunted, ghostly. Whatever he’d seen had not been paradise.

‘What was there?’ came the question, courtesy of Patton, but it was something they all wished to know.

Wry was his smile when he answered, dark and gaunt, ‘nothing.’

With the waking came the chains. Not physical or literal, but they were chains, nonetheless. Remus and Deceit came to escort Logan not three days after he awoke, dubbing that a suitable amount of time for the three to bid their farewells to their fourth. They allowed a moment of tears and anguish, Logan trapped within the embrace of three sides as the heart he’d been given pulsed with life and grief. Today he’d lose something great and wonderful and gain something horrid and abominable.

They waved him off, each half chasing after him before being reigned in with the knowledge it was for his own good. A sacrifice of his life for which he was given life. A twist in their tale together that would render their friendship null and void. He’d never be able to leave, and they’d never be able to gain entry. Though perhaps Remus could be persuaded, if not by them than by Roman. Regardless of future plans to sneak into a world not their own, the trio waved off Logan and Logan was led into the darkness.

He closed his eyes against it, not wanting to let it in at first. But as it became apparent, he wouldn’t be able to move forward without his eyes being open, he decided to allow that to happen. It was his hope he could withstand what was thrown at him, what horrors awaited him within Remus’ room.

As they continued on their walk, both sides used to the walk ahead of the one not used to it, the one not used to it noticed something peculiar. A large blot of white light that only grew as they advanced, a doorway of some sort or cave entrance that called them forward. And, stupid as he was, he stepped through it after his guides.

And he blinked back against the harsh light that blinded him. The sun was warm and bright, the world around him the same. So bright was it that he began to think they’d walked into Roman’s room by mistake, that the gentle breezes and sunshine soft and warm, was the work of the creativity he knew and not the one he’d followed. And yet his guides seemed comfortable here, turning to him as if expecting something of him.

He merely blinked back at them, hoping they would say something before he made both fool and ass of himself.

‘Do you like it?’ came the first of many questions to come, a gentle one offered by Remus. And unsure of how to respond, Logan nodded. Not quite following what they meant.

‘He spent hours in here making it right for you. This will be your lobby as a sort, but a more picturesque room awaits you yonder,’ murmured the mellowed tones of Deceit, far from what he was used to but a side to the half-faced side he would not forget seeing.

As promised to him he found his room. From a door carved into a tree he emerged into a field of flowers and mirror glazed ponds. Each echoing a similar sentiment of beauty and belonging. This room, so far reserved from Remus’ usual creations, must have taken many hours to be crafted by himself. Perhaps help was offered and taken from Deceit, but by the sound of it the room was made for him by Remus alone. A great effort if the multicoloured flowers and even temperance of the sun was to be taken into account.

‘For you. If you must stay close and here, I would have it no other way,’ came gently spoken words. Words that echoed and radiated with a calm that was unheard of and nary seen from such a mass producer of madness as Remus, ‘a new start, for a new side.’

It certainly felt like it. A brand-new room decorated like a perfect world where nothing could harm or cause him pain. This world was his own to explore and take note of, and it would take a while to do so. But his heart yearned for the others, and he voiced as such with a simple longing look to the ground. They could not visit this place. This was his and his alone and as such no one could enter; truly, he’d left Remus and Deceit at the door.

But this was still within Remus’ room. He was to be a permanent guest. No longer given the freedoms he once had and secluded to a room he could exit from but never truly leave. A home as beautiful as it was lonely.

‘I know they cannot come here, but Roman can come to my room and as such you could see him in the lobby. That is, if you so wish it.’

Who had spoken such words of wonder was beyond Logan, all that mattered was the words and the meaning they held. To be able to see just one of them again would be heaven, to know he was not so truly alone as to be secluded for eternity before death. Tension would be long gone between them. Lifetimes apart, to be sure. And if they fought it would be hard to break what had been set in place by the departure of his life from the mortal realm.

Roman may not have been his first choice, but he was still a friend, still someone he cared for and loved. It was something he could agree to wholeheartedly.

‘Please,’ a whispered plea that didn’t fall on deaf ears. It would be their pleasure to do what he asked of them, after all they’d just barely brought him back to life. Remus was the djinn in his pocket now, whatever he asked for, Remus would provide without hesitation.

The first meeting went about as well as one would expect. With a shout from royalty and a cry of joy from a usually composed scholar. Their reunion brought tears to their eyes along with a great deal of smiling. They didn’t fight or argue and kept everything happy and civil. This was where Logan could connect to the world outside his room, and the only place Roman could get just and wise advice. Their meeting ended with tears and the promise that Roman would return every week with as best a report as he could give, offering a single hug before vanishing from the room and leaving Logan alone once more.

The second of their meetings was less civil. With work piling up and no way for Logan to help them, the group had become rather swamped, but with a little planning done during their meeting, Roman returned both saddened and with a schedule that was sure to work all of their needs into it. It only made them yearn to see him greater.

Third. The supposed unlucky encounter was just that. The schedule was being overwritten for their needs and wants, and they’d not a judge to fairly decide who would get what time. Roman complained their entire meeting, and later recalled that Logan listened with a tender smile and saddened eyes. Any contact with them would be good contact for him, and Roman supposed Logan had begun to miss their antics and arguing by now.

So, their fourth visit together he brought a present. A recording of them rehearsing the new video and them working in bits they hoped would make him happy. They did. Roman spent much of their time together holding the resurrected side with one arm, holding him close as he wept tears of joy and sadness into the white coat.

The meetings continued on in a similar fashion and pattern. Every few days Roman would enter Remus’ room with permission and meet up with Logan to go over what he could of what went on outside the room before leaving with a hug and a promise to return. Every time the prince returned to his room near tears, frustrated and in emotional turmoil over the fact he couldn’t help Logan more than he was. He admitted that the visits were good for them both, but the tension between himself and the other sides only seemed to grow the closer he became with Logan.

The more he vanished off to speak with the logical side, the more they grew jealous of this opportunity he’d been given. The wedge driven between them had left a small mark at first, but that was growing rapidly with no hope of getting smaller. He needed Logan to be there with him, needed Patton and Virgil to come to Remus’ room with him. Being the messenger was only good for so long before war broke out between them and with no logic in sight they’d tear each other apart at the seams.

With a heavy heart he concluded it was Logan or Patton and Virgil. So, in his hour of need, he came to the one he knew would be impartial. And Logan chose for Roman to remain with the other sides. It would be torture not seeing one another, but it was better than knowing they were the cause of the imminent collapse of Thomas psyche.

Patton and Virgil found him, teary and unresponsive to them on the couch and watching a movie they’d all decided never to watch ever again. It took no less than turning off the player and shaking Roman a good seven times for him to finally show signs of noticing their appearance in his personal space. It took much less for him to spill the beans and tell them what had brought him to such a low. And it took them all of five seconds to realise there was no winning. They wanted to see Logan, Roman could at will. They grew jealous easily, Roman felt the burden of this upon him and thus passed it to Logan. If they agree to let him see Logan again the cycle would return and continue. And then Roman told them of a meeting that sparked their interest.

A few days later Roman came to them with a soft smile and a recording on his phone. The message played on a loop for them, a familiar face echoing back sentiments of sadness and love before Roman’s shaky camerawork came to the forefront and became an opportunity to see something all rarely saw; a laugh. Unfiltered, unedited, unchanged. A loud, proud, joyful laugh with nothing in the way. A sign out and then repeat.

That became their way of communication; recorded video. In a way it was a long-distance relationship, but instead of a computer or phone, they had Roman and a phone. The messages were saved to a hard drive, there was no way either party was letting go of those memories.

With Roman as courier they knew they were getting the truth, neither Remus nor Deceit saw to stop them and in each they began to notice he gradual changes. The more emotive side of an unemotional robot. The darker mourning side of a happy-go-lucky sunflower. The loving side of someone who swore off breaking down his barriers. And a gentle and soft side to the brash and loud prince. It was a new time, a new life for them. As if on that day they’d died with Logan and been resurrected with him. This was their chance at a new life, and they took it.

Time rolled on, each day passing like the last until something came to them; a spark unlike anything they’d encountered in their little world. A spark that burned a passionate red and understanding blue. And how could they not agree to it when confessions were sprouted, and once broken bridges were mended. They could see one another; they had fallen for one another. And it was good. It was approved, adored, accepted. And slowly they drifted away, two sides unable to see the last of their group as he moved, slowly but surely, pulled towards the one he loved. How could they stand against that? Who could stand against that?

When at last their third was no longer with them it was as if he’d become a distant memory, foggy and unrecognisable. What he’d once been and what he now was, were two things so different it was hard to imagine they’d been the same person at all. But they were and they were attached to another.

In their minds they questioned it, but they knew the answer to their question. Can a heart still love, even if it’s stopped beating? Yes, it can.

[iamtaekooked]

Vanilla Rules || Ch 12

Genre: Enemies to Lovers! AU, badboy! au, college! au 

Word count: 8.8k

Synopsis: 

The hate saga between you and baddie of the town Park Jimin rests on two very simple rules: 1.) Hate each other for the rest of your lives and 2.)under no circumstances fall in love with each other. But what happens when the possibility of love threatens this dynamic?

A/N: So, do you guys remember the prologue???? Haha yeah... I hope you like it :)

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || Ch 6 || Ch 7|| Ch 8 || Ch 9 || Ch 10|| Ch 11 || Ch 12 || Ch 13

“What the fuck!” Jimin stormed towards Hoseok’s hands clenched into fists beside him. He shoved Hoseok and he stumbled back a little.

But then Hoseok charged forwards and gave a hard shove and Jimin stumbled back as well.

“You wanna fucking go at it?” Jimin questioned, hands at the ready.

“Lets” Hoseok ran towards Jimin and both men fell to the ground, with Hoseok on top of jimin and they exchanged punches back and forth.

All you could do was stand there helplessly as they both grunted and groaned and punched each other till both of them were bleeding.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, clapping both hands on your mouth as you looked at the scene unfold in front of you with complete horror.

“You fucking piece of shit you kissed her when she was drunk?!” In one swift move Jimin knocked Hoseok to the ground and straddled him, throwing another punch. More blood gushed out from the open gash in Hoseok’s cheek

“You’re fucking one to talk you asshole. How many fucking girls have you fucked huh?”  Hoseok reached up and grabbed Jimin’s shirt and with minimal effort pinned down Jimin and threw a punch of his own causing Jimin’s lip to bleed.

“I haven’t touched a single girl when she was fucking high” Jimin pushed Hoseok off and he fell back on the sand. Both men stood up, dusting off the sand from their clothes.

“If y/n was so fucking high she wouldn’t have kissed me first! Are you jealous Jimin?” Hoseok closed the gap between them again, towering over Jimin just slightly due to having a few inches advantage over Jimin.

Jimin scoffed. “Jealous my ass. What the fuck kinda game are you playing here Hoseok?”

“I am not playing any games man” Hoseok stepped closer to Jimin and whispered something you couldn’t hear.

“Whatever. We both know you aren’t capable of that” Jimin stepped back and spit the blood that had pooled in his mouth.

“And you are?” Hoseok seethed through clenched teeth. Jimin only stared back at him in response, still as furious and still looking like he could kill.

You were too stunned to say anything, but definitely not buzzed as before. The fight was enough to sober you up.  Both men stood up and dusted off the sand from their clothes still looking murderously at each other. You could distinctly hear the heavy sounds of their breathing, and could see their chests rise and fall with a lot of effort.

Jimin turned you harshly by placing a hand on your elbow. “And you! What in the fucking world is wrong with you?”

You opened your mouth to answer but before you could even say a word Jimin lifted a finger to silence you. “You know what just shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna hear it. You’re coming with me” he gripped your wrist and you followed after him in silence, too scared to defy him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re taking her?” Jimin stopped when he felt you stop behind him. Turning around he met with Hoseok who looked equally pissed, and held your other wrist in his hand.

“Fuck man, just let go. I am in no mood to do this shit again” Jimin said sternly

“Hoseok. Please” you looked at him, silently pleading because you didn’t want him to get hurt because of you. You stared at each other as Hoseok silently searched your eyes for an answer that would hurt him less.

“Fine” he let go of your wrist. “Only because you say so” he said after a moment

You nodded at him feeling thankful that he understood you. Jimin began walking again with you in tow. You followed him dutifully and even though you did not want to go with him you knew there was no other choice. You couldn’t stay back with Hoseok because if you did, you had no idea what more drama would have ensued. If there is one thing that Jimin could learn from Hoseok, it was being understanding.

The only reason why you pleaded with Hoseok and not Jimin was because you knew Hoseok was more level headed than Jimin, especially when angry. Although you had no idea why Jimin reacted so violently regarding the kiss, what you did know was that you were too tired and confused to even begin arguing with him.

Maybe if you hadn’t been drunk and stupid none of this would have happened.

.  .  .  

On the way back the silence itself was frightening enough. You didn’t dare look at Jimin although at times during the ride you could feel him looking at you. It was highly awkward because you weren’t sure what you could say to him. You knew you could always pick an argument with him because that was second nature to you both and you were very tempted to ask what his problem was. But one furtive glance at him told you this was not a good time.

Time flew by because your mind was running rampant with many questions. You were trying to understand why Jimin reacted in such a harsh way but were failing at coming to a conclusion.

You were drawn out of your thoughts when the car came to an abrupt halt and you jerked forwards in your seat. Looking outside the window you saw a house you did not recognize.You assumed you had arrived at Jimin’s place but you couldn’t be sure because your vision was still hazy.

“Get out” he spit the words harshly. He unbuckled his seat belt and then did so for you too, before he got of the car and slammed the door behind him. The sound was way too amplified in your head and it brought upon another bout of headache.  

You were still a little out of it although that fight had sobered you up considerably for a while. But now you were coming down from the fearful rush of the unexpected violence you had witnessed and a tingle was beginning to settle in your bones. Jimin opened your door, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor while you got out of the car.

But you failed to steady yourself on your feet as your knees buckled and you almost fell had it not been for Jimin catching you by the arm. He held you in place and shut the door with his foot.

“Jesus fucking christ” he muttered under his breath as he supported your weight.

He fumbled with the keys but found the one he needed and unlocked the main door. You entered inside and you couldn’t even take a good look at the place because your vision was swimming. You did however make out the main staircase, upon which you were ascending now and after a flight of steps later you were in what you assumed to be Jimin’s room. You still couldn’t make out any particular details because your head was hurting and a definite urge to hurl was overcoming you. But there was a queen sized bed, and a study desk in one corner. Plus a large Tv display cabinet adorned one of the walls. That was all you could make out in your impaired state.

“Jimin…” you held your stomach and groaned.

“Not in my fucking room” he sent a furtive glare at you, but was kind enough to lead you into his bathroom. He left you to your own devices and once you were done, he came back with a few towels in his hand, which he placed on the counter. He then turned on the water in the bathtub, which looked like a hot tub. And for the first time you realized just how big his bathroom was. It was more than half the size of your living room.

“Get in” he ordered while you were still on the floor next to the toilet seat.

“No” it came out as a whine rather than a definitive answer

“I am seriously not in the fucking mood for this” he glared at you, and although it was intimidating you shook your head. The alcohol really subdued you, which sucked. He waited and waited for you to do as he said. But when you didn’t he was quick to help you to your feet and force you into the bathtub. As soon as your foot came in contact with the cold water it was like some of the haze clouding your mind retreated back and made way for a kind of alertness.

“How much did you even drink?” he shook his head as he helped you lower yourself into the water by holding your shoulders.

He turned the tap off once you were sitting in the water, which levelled a bit above your ankles. Then he turned the shower on and you gasped at the cold sensation of water.

“It’s cold” you complained.

“Yeah that’s the fucking point genius” he sighed and sat against the tub with his back to you, running a hand through his hair.

The water was sort of burning your skin because it was extremely cold but your headache was beginning to subside and so was the blurry vision. You felt a bit more alert although not completely there yet.

“How long do I have to sit in here?” you rubbed your face and brought your knees to your chest.

“Five more minutes” he mumbled

Your teeth chattered because of the cold and you brought your knees up to your chest.  Placing your chin on your arm, you turned your  head in Jimin’s direction but were met with the back of his head.

He looked so defeated sitting against the bathtub with his back to you. As much as you felt grateful, you also had a lot of questions for him. In your condition you weren’t sure if it would be a good idea to ask but as usual curiosity was a bitch.

“Why did you hit Hoseok?” you asked between the chattering of your teeth

“Because I wanted to” he shrugged.

“Liar” you muttered in a quiet voice, letting the water run over your back and soothe the heat emanating from your body.

“Why ask if you’re not going to believe me” he looked at you over his shoulder momentarily and then turned back to the front to resume his mindless staring.

“Why answer if you’re just going to lie”

“Because that’s what we do, princess. We lie to each other” he stood up and turned off the shower. It wasn’t like your body wasn’t hurting but he took it upon himself to throw some towels at you which actually hurt.

“Dry up” he didn’t even spare you a glance before stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. One of these days if he ever had too much too drink you would make sure to bang all the pots and pans you could find and blare the music so loud it would give him a migraine.

He did give you the towels although he didn’t give you any clothes to change into. You wanted to give him a gentle reminder but fuck that.

“Jimiiiin!” you yelled as loud as you could at the top of your lungs. So loud that by the end you were out of breath.

Two seconds passed and he still never returned. “Jimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnn!”

The second time worked like a charm because the door flung open and there stood Jimin looking absolutely furious. “Holy fucking shit.What!” he snapped.

“I don’t have anything to change into” you replied as matter of factly.

“What the fuck is that on the bloody counter?” He pointed to the clothes beside the sink. You bit your lip sheepishly but you weren’t going to let yourself look like a fool.

“Well…I don’t like the colour of the shirt” you complained wrapping the towel around your upper body and stepping out of the tub and onto the mahogany mat.

He just blinked at you in response as if he was completely dumbfounded by your reaction. It was the kind of comical blank look that was only reserved for frustratingly unbelievable situations. It was like he was done with you. Without another word slammed the door and left.

You couldn’t contain your giggles at how helpless he looked. If he could annoy you, you could always return the favour.

You dried yourself and got dressed in the clothes he had left for you. You liked how comfortably his shirt hung on your frame. But his sweats were too long and a little too loose so you had to twist the waist band a few times before it was the right length for you.  It reminded you of the time at camp when you wore his clothes because yours were burned.

A small smile quivered at the corner of your lips and you admired the way his shirt looked on you. It prompted you to ponder whether he would think it was cute this time too, or if he would lie about it.

We lie to each other

You suddenly remembered his words and realized that they held much more weight than you thought.

You weren’t sure why it mattered so much but it was the defeated way in which he had said it that bothered you. It was the quiet tone of his voice, it was the disappointment behind his words that caused you to replay it over in your head. With a heavy sigh, you exited the bathroom and made your way to the living room where Jimin was lying one of the couches. You took a seat on the opposite couch, folding your legs underneath you

“Water” he mumbled without taking his eyes off the television which as you now realized was causing a headache.

“Oh- uh thanks” you looked at the coffee table and found an ice cold glass of water. “Are you like obsessed with cold shit?” You asked while picking up the glass.

He shifted his head in your direction. “It’s to help with your hangover”

“Careful Jimin it is starting to look like you care for me” you take a sip of the ice cold water and surprisingly it’s very refreshing.

“Don’t get your hopes up. I am doing this for Tae since he is at work right now. He told me to bring you here because he didn’t want you to be alone in this state” Jimin replied promptly and then returned his focus to the television.

“Oh” you muttered with much disappointment and he would have to be deaf and completely imperceptive to miss the quiet tone of your voice. “Well, thanks anyway”

You fell into a stretch of silence  with the only sounds coming from the tv. You glanced at him but decided to focus your attention on the soccer game although you had no interest. Your mind was hung up on his actions tonight. You couldn’t figure out what it was that made you so curious to know why he fought with Hoseok. It might have had to do with their mutual dislike for each other but a strong inkling suggested there was more to the story.

“So, why did you fight with Hoseok. This time I want the honest answer” you looked at him, waiting for him to turn his attention to you and respond. For a few seconds he just maintained his facade of watching tv.

“Geez, let it go will you?” he glared

“No. I want to know why you acted like that” you paused wondering if you should say the next words. But without your consent your mouth decided to let them out in the open anyway. “Was it uhhh… because of the kiss?” the words hung in the air thick with tension.

“No!” his head snapped in your direction with a bewildered look. “I just mean that you know we uh— we hate each other so I took my chance”

“Yeah that you did. Your face says it all” you gave up on getting the honest answer out of him. “Don’t you need first aid for that?”

“Huh. Careful y/n it’s starting to look like you care for me” a corner of his lip twitched as he repeated back your words from earlier

“Don’t get your hopes up Jimin. I am only doing it for Tae. He would hate me if I didn’t help you” you replied and it provoked a chuckle from him.

“Glad to know that at least we share something in common” he maintained eye contact for a split second longer before returning his attention to the game.

“No. We share two things in common” you corrected which made him shift his focus to you with a puzzled expression on his face.

You read his face and nodded at him. “Tae and the fact that we hate each other”

“That is true. You know very rarely once in a blue you can be smart” he scoffed with the usual smug expression. You couldn’t figure if that was a full on insult or a mild compliment.

“You shouldn’t have hit him. I was the one who kissed him and he-”

“Okay. Stop right there. TMI. I don’t want to know who kissed who and why. I don’t give a fuck so stop talking about it. Cool?” he looked straight at you, eyes full of the resentment that reflected in his words.

You pondered what to say next because clearly he was adamant on running away from this topic or anything even remotely related. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

“I don’t need it” he responded with such certainty as if he already knew you wanted to patch him up.

“I never said it was for you” you shrugged

“It’s in the drawer under the coffee table” he quipped, returning his focus back to the TV.

You opened the drawer and found the red first aid kit. Closing the gap between you and Jimin you took a seat next to him.

“Turn” you said shortly and he did but jolted in surprise at the close proximity.

“Thought you said it wasn’t for me”

“It’s not. It’s for the Jimin who fought tonight” you dipped a cotton ball in the antiseptic and gently tapped it against the gash on his cheek. It was slowly turning blue which was not a good sign. He hissed in pain slightly flinching away. But you placed your forefinger and thumb under his chin to hold him in place.

“Wussy” you smirked at him teasingly.

“Princess, you don’t want to start that right now. I might end up doing something you’ll regret” he stared into your eyes without blinking which somehow made his words seem more convincing. There was conviction in his voice and your intuition screamed at you not to start anything with him. He might just do whatever he was thinking.

“Well then you can add that to the list of things you already regret. I am pretty sure it is very long given all the shit you’ve pulled over the years” you glanced up at him quickly before focusing back onto cleaning the wound on his cheek. You felt his eyes on you and it somehow managed to create a hollow pit in your stomach, which certainly did not help the situation.

“Trust me. This will top everything I have ever done and you will hate me more than you have ever before” his voice was husky and almost a whisper. You could smell the sweetness of his breath.

“What could you possibly do in this moment that would top everything you have ever done?” you stopped cleaning his wound and caught his gaze and held it.

You stared at each other like that for a few seconds which seemed to stretch on longer because of the silence. Your hand rested lightly against his cheek, the cotton ball still in your hand. Jimin was inching closer very slowly and in that moment you realized how beautiful this boy was. He was more beautiful than anyone you had ever seen. The way the yellow light from the lamp illuminated his face, the way his eyes sparkled softly, and the way he was looking at you was more than enough to make you want to shrink back into yourself.

His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips and it was a good enough hint about his intentions. Yet, you couldn’t put space between him and you. You were glued to your spot as if you were waiting for him to live up to his words.

“I could kiss you right now” his voice was a soft whisper, and he stopped leaving only a finger length distance between your face and his. “Tell me that won’t make you uncomfortable” he moved a bit closer. “Tell me that you won’t regret it” his lips were hovering above yours and any tiny movement would ensure the birth of the kiss he was talking about. He stared directly into your eyes, a gesture that tickled your nerves with nervousness. Somehow he had managed to make you feel breathless and infuriated at the same time.

You were suddenly realizing how close he was, and were slowly becoming aware of the building rhythm of your heartbeat. This was something you had never experienced before. You had a lot to say but it was like there was a disconnect between your brain and your voice because the words wouldn’t come out. They were resting at the tip of your tongue but you didn’t have it in you to give voice to the existence of your thoughts.

He was too close, and this was too much.

You shifted away from him, quickly diverting your attention to the floor.

“Yeah that’s what I thought too” he scoffed bitterly. His words held so much derision and bitterness. You hazarded a glance at him only to realize that his eyes hadn’t stopped their scrutiny of you. It made you feel so vulnerable, and frightened.

You were scared because he was affecting you in a way that he had never done before. He was getting under your skin in a way that made you lose your composure. He was stripping away every bit of confidence you harboured which was very disconcerting. Being around him was getting difficult on a level that wasn’t about tolerating him. It was about surviving the overwhelming flood of emotions that rolled over you in waves in his presence. That was something you weren’t used to.

Inhaling deeply, you settled for avoiding his gaze letting your eyes wander elsewhere.

“I uh— I should um…” you had no idea what you wanted to say but you had to say something. It was like when a situation becomes so awkward you feel the need to fill up the silent moments with words to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling. Usually people rambled in situations like these but you couldn’t find the words at all.

“Yeah. You should” Jimin agreed even though you you were clueless about what it is you wanted to do.You jolted in surprise and flinched back when he leaned across you to grab the first aid kit. You hadn’t realized you weren’t breathing until you unconsciously released a long breath after he had moved to his original position beside you.

“Thanks. I can do it myself” he muttered not even sparing you a glance as he grabbed a few things from the kit and began to work on his wounds.

Your eyes commenced darting around as you sat clueless, while the silence stretched on painfully. You fidgeted with your hands in your lap, feeling a desperate urge to run and hide. A paralyzing moment later you finally moved as you shifted away from him very slightly putting more space between you. He didn’t pay any mind because he was far too immersed in giving himself first aid. Either that or he was hell bent on ignoring you.

“All you really had to uh—do was-- was put the ointment and the bandaid” your voice shook slightly and you winced at how awkward you sounded. Clearing your throat you tried to compose yourself.

Awkwardness was also new with Jimin. You never had any reason for being uncomfortable with him, especially not in a way that made you feel self-conscious.

Jimin immediately stopped with whatever he had been doing and turned to look at you. “You try doing it when you get hurt”

“I was doing it for you but then you took it from me” you reminded him gently surprised at the softness in your voice

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get uncomfortable and regret anything tomorrow morning” he smiled at you sarcastically before putting the ointment on the gash.

You scoffed in disbelief “Why the fuck are you so salty? What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“I should be asking you that” he said curtly

“If you have something to say then say it. Stop talking in circles” you stared him while he  completely ignored you.

“I told you I don’t have anything to say” he muttered under his breath as he packed up the kit and carelessly threw it on the coffee table.

“Really? Doesn’t seem like it” you folded your arms while you kept your gaze fixed on him. You knew he sensed your eyes on him because he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Since when do you care what I think?” he questioned but never looked at you

“Fine. Then don’t” you stood up and left because you couldn’t take his passive aggressive behaviour. He was clearly bothered by something and you wanted to talk about it. Whatever misunderstanding he harboured, you wanted to clear it with him which was very infuriating because it lent itself to a truth you could never admit; you did care what he thought.

You were almost out of the living room when you turned around. Before you could even think about it you lied through your teeth. “Oh and by the way I do like Hoseok”

You don’t know what prompted you to say it but what you did know was it out of spite more than anything else. You had no idea whether you were just overthinking but something told you that he was pissed about the kiss. You remembered how he had asked Hoseok why he kissed you when you were drunk. That much stuck with you.

“Good” he glared back and you saw how his jaw twitched. It was satisfying to get under his skin.

“Fine” you let your gaze linger for a second more before storming out of his apartment altogether.

.  .  .  

The next few days were very awkward between you and Jimin. Neither did he speak a word to you and nor you to him. The tension between you was apparent and everyone around you could feel it too. But no one brought it up. You sure as hell were never going to speak of that night again. Not only because of what you had said to Jimin about liking Hoseok, but because it was comparatively more uncomfortable to bring up Hoseok as a topic of discussion.

He was acting normal around you as if the kiss never happened. But you were having a lot of trouble erasing it from your mind as a drunken mistake. You hadn’t even talked to him in about a week, and every time you saw him in the hallways you would make a u-turn and hide.

It had gotten so bad that you couldn’t even hang out with your friends if he was going to be present. The situation you were stuck in currently wasn’t any different. 

Yoongi had informed you that Hoseok was coming and your immediate reaction was to wrack your brain for an excuse. You hadn’t even opened your mouth and everyone was already looking at you expectantly, waiting to see what kind of an excuse you were going to come up with this time.

“So what is it today? A meeting with the professor or a supposed job interview?” Yoongi leaned in folding his elbows on the table.

Shit

“Ummm… nothing!” You said in an excessively chirpy and innocent voice. “ I just uh remembered I needed to hand a paper in for Biomedical ethics class. So I am just going to go to the library” you began to gather your belongings in a hurry. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you including Jimin, who was rhythmically tapping his fingers on the table.

“We don’t have any papers due though” Jimin piped up with an innocent smile on his face. It was anything but that. It was also the first time in a week he had addressed you.

“How would you know? You barely attend class” you snapped back at him

“Yeah but I know that there are no papers due. We’re partners remember?” he cocked a smug eyebrow, smiling at you crookedly.

This asshole was enjoying it.

You were trying hard to think of how to get yourself out of the situation but before you could Hoseok was making his way towards the table you were sitting at. You stared at him wide eyed, heart thrumming in your chest. You were being bombarded with memories of the kiss, which you were sure had managed to colour your cheeks red.

“What’s wrong y/n?” Jimin questioned in a nonchalant manner, but the tone of mockery in his voice, that excessive air of innocence around him was fake at the very least. He was enjoying seeing you panicked.

“Shut up” you snapped at him which only served to make him chuckle.

He was merciless and you knew the game he was playing. But you had no idea why he was being like this. It shouldn’t have been so hard to figure it out but then again he was a complex person. He could have a number of different reasons for acting like an asshole.

“Hey y/n” Hoseok greeted you with a small smile.

You nodded. “Hi”

Diverting your attention to the ground you shifted on your feet uncomfortably. You glanced at Taehyung from the corner of your eye and noticed him eyeing you curiously. You sheepishly looked away knowing that he was going to ask you about it later.

“What’s with the awkwardness?” Yoongi questioned and you glanced at him. He was looking back and forth between you and Hoseok.

“I know. I wonder what happened” Jimin locked eyes with you, the same smirk of mockery present on his face.

He was acting like he had no idea why you were so anxious. If you could sock him you would have but that wouldn’t have helped you in any way.

“How did you get hurt Jimin?” Hoseok interrupted with a sickeningly fake smile on his face, and an equally fake tone of concern in his voice as if he had no idea either.

“Oh.. I don’t know. Got in a fight with this douchebag. Completely beat the crap out of him though” Jimin scoffed offering the smirk he had offered you.

“Are you sure because it looks like you got your fair share of punches too” Hoseok mirrored Jimin’s expression. You noticed the heated glaring match between them. Jimin opened his mouth to say something but you interjected before the situation became worse.

“Have a seat Hoseok” you broke the tension lacing the air. He tore his gaze from Jimin and it landed on you. Smiling at him you quickly took your seat next to Taehyung, dropping your bag on the floor with a thud. Hoseok pulled up a chair from the empty table next to you and sat next to Yoongi.

You saw Yoongi and Taehyung exchange a puzzled look between themselves. You only wondered what they must have been thinking about the current exchange of conversation between you, Jimin and Hoseok. It was clear that there was something going on and you knew they could tell. They would have to be blind and completely dumb to miss the heavy tension in the atmosphere.

You were suffocating because you knew Hoseok and Jimin were staring at you, but with completely different intentions. You couldn’t look either of them in the eye so you settled for staring at your lap and scratching off the nail polish from your nails as a distraction.

Taehyung nudged you leaning in to whisper. “If there is gossip I need to know”

“Later” you muttered. “But for now help me get out of this situation” you looked at him pleadingly.

“Fine. But then you promise to tell me what happened” he stuck out his hand for you to shake in order to strike a deal.

“Fine. Just please” you hissed and shook his hand.

He nodded and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Guys I gotta go. Y/n you coming?” Tae stood up, looking at you expectantly.

“Oh uh- yeah. Coming” you picked your bag and followed his lead and stood up.

“I’ll join you guys. I gotta get home early too” Jimin stood up as well.

“No”

“Sure” you and Taehyung said at the same time.

Jimin looked between you two eyebrows raised in question. “I am little confused now”

“Sure you can come” Taehyung spoke before you even had the chance to speak up. You glared daggers at him. When you had asked him to help you out of the situation you hadn’t expected him to make it worse than it was.

“Yeah?” Jimin looked at Taehyung who nodded in affirmation.

“Cool. I am off too guys” Jimin patted Yoongi on the shoulder as a parting gesture.

“Lets go” Taehyung urged and you were about to follow when you stopped.

“Hoseok do you wanna come with us too?” you knew this was a bad idea. But maybe this could be a good chance to talk to him about that day. But the real reason you wanted him there was because it would help you feel comfortable around Jimin.

“Uhhh.. sure” he didn’t sound that sure but he agreed anyway for which you felt thankful.

“Great!” you beamed brightly and with a skip to your step walked beside him, behind Jimin and Taehyung. .  .  .  

You found yourself at Dennys where Taehyung was busy slurping down the milkshake while you were awkwardly staring between Jimin and Hoseok who were heatedly glaring at each other across the table. You wanted to say something to dispel the tension that had once again manifested itself, but couldn’t find the right words.

Jimin’s eyes switched from Hoseok to you and you immediately froze in your spot. Taehyung was still completely oblivious next to him. Hoseok was just as tense next to you which wasn’t helping because he was supposed to be your source of comfort. You awkwardly cleared your throat and diverted your attention to the coffee in front of you. It prompted Hoseok’s attention and you felt him stare at you from the corner of your eyes, but opted for ignoring him and Jimin.

“What the fuck is going on with you three” Taehyung commented drawing everyone out of their trance. He looked at each person waiting for an answer but everyone avoided his gaze. You were surprised Jimin was quiet because you were expecting him to open his mouth and ruin everything. But he didn’t. Instead he kept his gaze fixed on you, slowly but surely making you lose composure. You were resisting the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, and momentarily forgetting that there were other people present with you.

“Nothing” Hoseok finally answered eliciting a nod from Taehyung

“I don’t believe you. But okay” he took a sip of his milkshake immersing himself in his own world again.

Hoseok let out a sharp breath glancing at you, and you passed him a small smile.

You were forced to look away when you felt a kick under the table. It was Jimin who had kicked you yet he acted as if he hadn’t done anything. You returned the favour and kicked him in the shin which prompted him to sputter his drink.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung looked up and stroked Jimin’s back to help with the cough.

“Everything okay Jimin?” you batted your eyes innocently, partly disgusted by your own actions. But it was worth the reaction you got out of him.

“I am fine” Jimin cleared his throat, nodding reassuringly at Taehyung. You caught Hoseok’s eye and he winked at you, pursing his lips to suppress his laughter. You looked back at Jimin and found him glaring at an oblivious Hoseok who had pulled out his phone and was busy texting someone. Sensing your eyes on him, he shifted his attention onto you.

“I need to talk to you” Jimin looked at you, suddenly standing up and walking out.

You blinked in confusion, Taehyung and Hoseok mirroring your expression as the three of you looked at each other.

“I’ll be back” you pushed away your coffee and slid out of the booth.

“Y/n if you need me let me know” Hoseok offered a soft smile.

“Relax. I’ll be okay” you nodded at him and went outside.

Jimin was leaning against his car which was parked off to the side of the parking lot, away from the window booth you had been occupying inside. You approached him cautiously, eyebrows raised in question. Jimin simply stared at you as you stopped in front of him.

“What?” you folded your arms across your chest.

“Did you mean it?” he looked you straight in the face, voice devoid of expression.

“Mean what?” you shrugged in question

After a long sigh of exasperation he spoke. “Do you like him?”

So that is what he wanted to know.

“You know. I can’t figure out why is bothers you so much. It’s none of your business anyway so let it go” you shook your head at turned around, intent on going back inside but he was quick to step in your way and pinned you against the wall of Denny’s. With hands resting on either side of you, he bent down a little so his head was at level with yours.

“I can’t figure it out myself. But you’re right. It bothers me. Care to find out why?” he closed the gap just enough so that his lips were lingering over yours, nose touching your own.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heartbeat picked up speed, racing away with your nerves. You looked him in the eyes even though it made you nervous. Every ounce of calm was being replaced by panic but instead of feeling frightened, you felt a rush of thrill.

“I-” you gulped.

“Cat got your tongue?” he whispered against your lips, the tip of his nose grazing yours.

“If you’re going to kiss me, do it before I change my mind” your words hit you like a ton of bricks because even you couldn’t believe yourself.

“I guess you don’t like Hoseok then” you watched as his eyes closed, lower lip pulled between his teeth. His nose grazed against your cheek, forehead resting against your temple. Your body felt like it had been set on fire because of how much the temperature had suddenly risen. A feverish feeling ran through your body, and a chill settled in your spine. You had a hard time controlling your breathing, chest heaving up and down with effort.

“If it helps you make-up your mind. Then, sure let’s say that” you mumbled

His eyes flew open and slowly stepped away from you. You heard him snicker and then he was shaking his head at the ground at laughing. Soon enough he was bending over and slapping his knee. You don’t know what tickled his funny bone causing him to break out into laughter in the middle of a tense situation like this.

“Jimin…” you said warily. “You’re scaring me right now. What the hell is going on?”

“I- I think-- I think I am losing my mind” he chuckled finally settling down into a calm after his laughing fit.

“Congratulations for figuring it out so fast. Only took you your whole life” you shook your head at him.

“Fuck it. I am going to try something so don’t move” as soon as the words left his mouth your body obeyed him. No matter how much your mind screamed at you to leave, your feet were planted firm on the ground as if his word was your command.

He stepped closer until he was close enough to make the small shred of distance non-existent. “Don’t move” he repeated yet again, and whether that was a plea or a command you couldn’t tell. All you knew you was you couldn’t move until he told you to. He leaned in, one hand enclosing around your waist and the other soon followed.

His arms around were slack at first but then he slowly squeezed you and pulled you closer. Your head rested on his chest, hands limp beside because you weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug him back. It was awkward enough already to stand there and let him hug you. It was crazy enough you weren’t protesting.

“Are- are you serious right now?” you mumbled in disbelief against his chest. You couldn’t find an adequate word to describe what you were feeling- maybe weird, but this was far more than weird. It was completely mind boggling.

“Don’t. Just don’t. It’s fucking embarrassing right now” he sighed against your shoulder and you felt his breath tickle your skin very gently.

“Then why are you hugging me?”

“Why are you letting me?” he questioned and it was fair. You could have easily pushed him away or shouted for help but you didn’t. If you were being honest it felt good and you didn’t want him to let go of you. But you would never admit it so you tried to hide behind the snarky comments.

“Why are you doing this Jimin?”

“I am just trying to figure something out” he let go and stepped away two paces before looking up and meeting your gaze.

“By hugging me? I mean...” you looked at him gingerly. “What the fuck? What the hell is going on with you?”

“Um… yeah I don’t know” he rubbed his forehead accompanied by a small sigh.

“ You don’t know?!”

“I just said I don’t. What else do you want from me?” the annoyance in his voice was hard to miss.

“That’s the thing Jimin. I don’t want anything from you. The real question is what do you want from me?”

He was silent as if he was pondering your statement.

“Nothing. Just leave me alone” his cold words hit you like a ton of bricks.

You scoffed in disbelief. “Get your shit together will you?”

“Whatever. Just leave. I can’t do this right now” he sighed, shoulders rising and then falling into a slumped position as he refused to look at you.

“Holy fucking shit. You wanted to talk to me so don’t act like this is all my fault” you were equally consumed with anger at this point.

“But it is because of you! Don’t you understand? You’re the reason for all of this” a glint of annoyance flashed on his face and his voice had risen.

“For what?! What did I do so bad that it has you all fucked up?”

“You kissed Hoseok and then you said you liked him!” his irritation flared and the words he had been holding in for so long were finally spoken.

A moment passed and it seemed time had slowed down. You had an inkling that this was the reason he was so bothered and tormented, but now that he said the words it was all too real. You had no idea what to infer and you didn’t want to attempt either. It was going to give you one hell of a headache. But that wouldn’t even be the worst of your worries.

Jimin’s eyes widened with a sickening realization. He immediately looked away from you. All the fury in his eyes was replaced by a sense of panic. A despondent look overtook the previously sharp look of anger.

“I gotta go” he pivoted on his heels and marched off to his car. Slamming the door, he backed out of the parking lot and drove away leaving you a mess of confusion and mixed emotions.

You walked back to the cafe with equally bewildered look on your face. Limply flopping down into the booth, you managed to attract the attention of both Hoseok and Taehyung. The two men shared a look of question between themselves.

“Where’s Jimin?” Tae questioned from next to you.

Although you had heard him, you were still too stunned about the incident that had just occurred. You didn’t even want to hear Jimin’s name right now because even that was enough to bring about a nauseating feeling in your chest. You couldn’t stop thinking about his words and how angry he had sounded. 

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to sit still. A restless feeling was beginning to overtake you. A helpless feeling had deflated your spirits because you did not know how to react or how to even begin processing the situation. When you had told him you liked Hoseok you hadn’t meant for it to come back and haunt you in such a shock inducing manner. In fact you had said it in the heat of the moment because you were just angry at him.

You were so used to hating him that feeling any other way sent your brain and body spiralling into a never ending hole of chaos. If whatever you felt for him wasn’t hate or dislike, you didn’t know how to deal with it. Due to this, a very annoying frustration was beginning to sow its seeds and threatening to throw you off more than you already were.

“Y/n…” you felt Hoseok’s hand atop yours and it was enough to jolt you out of your reverie.

“What happened? Why do you look so pale?” Taehyung questioned next.

“I-- I need to go. I just.. Sorry” you looked at them both apologetically before shooting out of the booth and running outside. Quickly calling a cab you waited for about ten minutes before you were on your way home for some much needed rest.

.  .  .

A restful sleep was a hard luxury to come by that night because you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Jimin. Everything he had said and everything he had done was coming back to you and hitting you right in the chest. A pang of pain shot through you, managing to wake you up with alarm.

The clock beside you read 4:55 am. Sighing heavily you tread outside, pouring yourself a glass of water and gulping it one breath. In the silent night you thought back to the first time you had met Jimin.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by the ringing of the bell. Carefully you walked to the front door and opened it to reveal Jimin standing on the other side. Immediately you were hit with the memories you had shared with him, most bad and some mildly civil. You thought back to your first meeting.

Since the first glance you had come to take on a strong dislike for the boy. Just the way he had looked at you rubbed you the wrong way. Not even a word was shared but as they said actions speak louder than words. So, as time passed you got to know exactly who he was, or at the very least you got to know the side of him he chose to show the world.

You didn’t know why Park Jimin had sworn to make your life a living hell. You didn’t know why he treated you so insultingly and demeaned you every time you encountered him. You knew that his reputation preceded him which is why you tried your best to stay out of his way. However it seemed to you that even after your best efforts to avoid him he seeked you out on purpose.

So as he stood outside your door at 5 am in the morning you couldn’t help but jump back in shock. Without a word he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out in the frigid air in your pyjamas, forcing a squeal to escape from your mouth. Just what hell awaited you this time you didn’t know, but the anxiety building up in your stomach surely didn’t help the urgency you were feeling.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” the affirmative tone of your voice surprised you. There were times when you were able to stand up to him. After all getting bullied day in and day out had to have its effect on you. In reply however you were only met with his tightening hold around your now reddening wrist. 

“ If you just shut the fuck up it would hurt less” he pushed you towards his car and roughly shoved you in the passenger seat, your face almost hitting the gear stick.

Maybe it was for own safety that you refrained from speaking again, but it didn’t stop you from glaring deathly at him. “ That doesn’t scare me sweetie” Jimin scoffed as he started up the car. 

“ Sorry your highness mornings aren’t my thing” you spit out the words with much sarcasm which didn’t go amiss by him as he smirked listening to your words.

Jimin suddenly sped up causing you to tightly hold onto the grab handle. “ What the fuck? Slow the hell down” you screamed as he swerved into the next lane, almost tipping over the car. 

“ I told you to keep that mouth shut to avoid any accidents” he slowly released the accelerator and you felt the car slowing down to a more suitable speed for the freeway. 

“Where the hell are we going anyway?” you looked over to his side to see the sign which indicated you were exiting the city. 

“To put an end to this whole mess” he mumbled as he shifted the gear with much more force than needed. 

Whatever mess he was referring to you didn’t know but you sure as hell hoped he wasn’t taking you to some deserted place to finish you off. Jimin wasn’t exactly the nicest man around, and considering how much he hated you, it was a very likely possibility. 

For the both of you your relationship was pretty simple: he hated you and you hated him. However you didn’t know why he hated you and found it pointless to hate him but Jimin never really gave you much of a choice. So as he stopped the car abruptly on a deserted freeway, along with which your thoughts also came to a halt you couldn’t help but wonder just what the fuck he wanted to say.

He killed the engine and stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the entire car shake. 

“What the fuck…” you watched him as he paced around frantically running a hand through his black locks. Your heart started to pick up speed as you followed him while he made his way round to your side and dragged you out and pinned you against the window.

Without a word he smashed his lips onto yours, his hand at the base of your neck pulling you forward and preventing you from breaking free. Your hands clenched into fists at your side and your eyes closed forcefully as you tried not to move your lips against his. As if you had finally realized that it was happening against your will your pushed him off you with all your strength.

“WHAT THE FUCK JIMIN” you screamed out the words, breath caught in your lungs and throat  burning due to how parched your mouth felt. “Why did you do that?” You grabbed him by his collars and he simply gave a bitter laugh. His hands made their way around your wrist as with one shove he pushed you away from him with what seemed like minimal effort.

“Because I wanted to” he slammed his fist on the hood of the car as he moved away from you. Your head was starting to pound because nothing made sense. “ What? Do you fucking like me or something?” You took a step towards him, with his back still facing you.

He turned around, took a deep breath and looked heavenward before looking back down at you. “I am wondering the same fucking thing y/n and I think I might just like you a lot more than I want to”

You stumbled back in shock because technically the both of you were sworn enemies. You might have been exaggerating but you two could never be because the rules of your hate relationship were very simple, very vanilla from the beginning: don’t fall in love.

Well shit. So much for vanilla rules.

End Ch 12. 

Let me know your thoughts in the comments below or leave me an ask! Don’t forget to leave a like or reblog if you liked it 😊

[dxmichelle]

Nerdship Shenanigans: Engagement Interview (Part 1 of 2)

Polished up that Nerdship snippet I posted about the other day, and broke it into two parts. The first bit is done under the cut (and is cross-posted in its prompt collection on AO3). 

Summary: The media's rumors and speculation about their relationship is finally laid to rest. 

Finally, the random image searching of birthstones, rings, and dresses will come in handy! :P

The quiet of the morning was broken by the slight buzz and soft keys of a piano coming from the phone on the bedside table. After about twenty seconds it quieted down only to start up again a few minutes later.

A hand shot out from beneath the bedcovers and groped around at the offending device until it turned off. An eye opened to see just who had decided to call and then text him a message and ruin his peaceful morning before the phone was flung across the room like a frisbee until it hit the wall.

Seto huffed and propped himself up against his pillows, rubbing the last bit of sleep from his eyes as the person next to him sighed sleepily and said, “I think you broke it this time.”

Seto blinked through the dark to where he assumed his phone landed. “That thing is built like a tank. It’s probably fine.”

Hermione clutched the blankets closer as she rolled over to face him. “I heard it shatter. That makes what – third time this month?”

“Second.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Seto – it’s only the fifth. The month just started.”

Seto merely shrugged his shoulders. “At least it wasn’t the office this time. Mokuba was wondering when we’re getting up.”

Hermione frowned and shifted to sit up beside him. “It’s a bit early, though. It’s still dark in here.”

A ghost of a smirk formed on his face before looking towards the windows. “The curtains are deceiving. It’s past eight.”

Hermione blinked. “And that’s considered late?”

Seto adjusted the sleeve of his shirt as he slid out of bed. “I’m usually up at six.”

“Ugh,” Hermione flopped back down. “I don’t know how you get through the day getting up so early and then not going to sleep until past midnight.”

“Determination and sheer stubbornness.”

Hermione giggled quietly. “Not coffee?”

“…That helps too.”

“Mm, and lots of it,” she added, and watched him open the door to his closet and disappear inside.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Seto scowled as he reemerged with a smoky-grey suit and tie draped over his arm. “You know I hate interviews. My life – our privacy – is none of their concern.”

Hermione nodded as she also got out of bed and moved towards the window, parting one side of the curtain to look out amongst the back yard of the mansion. The morning sunlight reflected across the sparkling ring on her left hand.

“I know,” she said, “But I’m tired of being chased by those vultures everywhere I go.”

Seto grumbled as he buttoned up his shirt. “You can thank the American press for that. Their level of obsession with everything except actual news is astounding.”

Hermione let go of the curtain and turned to face him. “We haven’t been to the United States in over a month.”

“Yeah,” Seto muttered, and he moved to stand in front of the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the closet door. “And when was the last time you traveled anywhere in the Muggle public’s eye without getting accosted? Ever since that magazine snapped that photo of us out in New York, you have not been left alone.”

Hermione grabbed the tie off the bed and handed it to him. “That was the whole point of doing this, wasn’t it? Give them what they want so they don’t bother us anymore?”

Seto sighed. “Allowing one interview isn’t going to stop them. It’s merely going to give them fuel to ignite more rumors. You will still be followed and stories will continue to circulate the Internet about you until the end of time.”

“Then how come these mindless articles don’t post too much about you, or Mokuba?”

Seto finished adjusting his tie. “They used to. When we were in America opening the first Kaiba Land, press followed us everywhere. I personally could care less of the garbage they post about me, but I wasn’t going to stand for them attacking Mokuba. So when the paparazzi were discovered following him to the school he was attending, they went from noisy pests to a security threat. Sufficed to say, that magazine is no longer in business, and a lot of the rabid reporting stopped. Until now.”

“If it’s not going to stop them,” said Hermione, wandering into the closet and looking through her clothes, “Then why would Roland suggest this in the first place?”

“Because confirming what everyone already seems to know protects you as well. They know I won’t respond to their baited articles about me, but I will if they end up endangering my family….”

He took her left hand in his and raised it up to look at her ring. “…Which you are now a part of.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” she said, her lips twisting upwards in a humored smirk. “I know you remember getting quite a few trounces in the Room of Requirement.”

Seto raised an eyebrow. “In a world of magic, yes. This is not. And so long as the media here in Domino continue to regale me as some sort of royal figure because I decided to have a life outside of my office, you won’t be left alone. It’s ludicrous.”

“So the general reasoning behind this is to satisfy the masses, and silently remind everyone that if they wander too close to me you’re going to rain your rage down on them all?”

Seto shrugged nonchalantly. “Roland would have worded it differently, but that was his general idea.”

Hermione playfully swatted his arm. "Then you answered your own question."

They both turned as rapid knocking sounded on the door. “Are you two up yet?!”

Seto rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

Mokuba poked his head inside. “What is taking so long?”

Seto performed a dramatic sweeping bow. “Our Queen isn’t ready yet.”

“Oh!” Mokuba covered his eyes and whirled around to face the door. “Sorry!”

Hermione looked down at her nightclothes. “I am dressed, you know!”

Mokuba let out a loud, goofy exhale. “Oh, that’s a relief.”

The younger Kaiba was just as energetic at fifteen as he was at ten. His voice had deepened somewhat, and he finally earned his growth spurt, though not to the extent that he wanted. His dreams of sprouting up like a tree were dashed when he settled around Téa’s height.

At least he could say he was taller than Yugi.

“When did you get back?” he asked, “I think I was in bed when you got in.”

“It was late,” said Hermione, “The flight was delayed. Aside from the driver, I’m certain Seto was the only one in the house still awake.”

“Oh,” Mokuba said, noticing the broken phone on the floor. “I guess I really shouldn’t have woken you up, huh?”

Hermione smiled. “It’s alright. At least it wasn’t…what, six am, when some people get up.” She reached out and grabbed Mokuba’s arm. “Come. I’ve never done this before, so help me pick out something appropriate.”

Mokuba grinned. “Okay!” He turned to his big brother and waved a hand, shooing him out the door. “No peeking!”

Seto shook his head slightly. “It’s an interview Mokuba. It’s not like we’re going to a party.”

Mokuba paused. “Well, yeah. But they’re live streaming it.”

Hermione’s face paled. Seto’s eye twitched.

Mokuba blinked. “You…didn’t know?”

Seto scowled. “Did Roland arrange this?”

Mokuba shook his head. “No, someone in PR did. But they had to send him the list of questions ahead of time for approval first.”

“Hn.” Seto huffed. “Reporting a transcript wasn’t enough? They have to record it too?”

“It’ll be alright,” Hermione said gently. She reached up on her tiptoes and pecked his cheek. “It’s just one, and it’ll be fine, really. Go stew in your morning coffee while I get ready.”

~~*~~

“You don’t think they’ll really dig into my life, will you? I mean, after this is all done,” said Hermione. “It’s not like I can proclaim to the world that I work for the British Ministry of Magic.”

“Then don’t tell them what you do.”

Hermione sighed and rested her head on his shoulder as the limo drove into the heart of Domino City. “I don’t want to seem like a freeloader. I do have a job.”

“Say it’s classified.”

“Heh, that sounds like she’s a spy,” said Mokuba. He had his phone in hand and was busy playing mindless games on the ride to Kaiba Corp.

Seto took her hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. “Just remember they can ask whatever they want. You don’t have to answer them. If there’s something you don’t want to get into, scratch it off the list before we start. They’re going to be invasive. I’ve resigned to having half of my life scrutinized. But you don’t have to.”

Seto’s phone buzzed, and he scowled after reading the message that popped up onto the screen. “They’re early.”

Mokuba’s eyes widened. “I thought it wasn’t for another hour!”

“It’s not. They apparently want to set up their equipment.”

“So much for relaxing before they got there,” Hermione said, yawning slightly. “Do you think they’ll start early and finish ahead of time?”

“Not if it’s being aired live,” Seto said, “They’ll just be in our hair longer.”

“Goody,” said Mokuba, and he flashed his brother a bitter smile. “Have fun!”

“You’re not going to be in the room with us?” asked Hermione.

Mokuba shook his head. “Nah. I’m gonna fiddle down in the VR lab.”

Seto pretended to look offended as the car pulled into the parking garage. “Now I feel hurt. My own brother isn't going to watch.”

Mokuba snorted. “It’s not like you’re gonna say anything I don’t already know.”

Seto chuckled. “Touché.”

Hermione shifted to stare up at Seto quizzically. “Your phone is still broken.”

“I was going to replace it when we got in,” said Seto, “I’m surprised it lost the battle against the wall.”

With the Millennium Items long gone, his ability to perform magic had diminished. Not entirely though, he still had his wand and was able to cast spells, but it took a much greater effort than when he still wielded the Rod. But it was fine. While magic made some things easier, he generally preferred to go without it.

“And what of the enchantments you cast on it back at Hogwarts?” she asked. “Are you going to set them up all over again?”

“We’re not at Hogwarts,” Seto countered. “Most of them aren’t needed anymore.”

“That’s true,” said Hermione, amused, “But it did make it stronger. And you tend to throw this around a lot.” She took it from him and pulled her wand from her jacket pocket. With a few quick taps against the cracked glass, it was good as new.

Seto glanced out the window. Roland was standing, waiting by the door to the elevators. The sooner they got in, the sooner the reporting crew would be out of their hair. “Let’s get this over with….”

[czarina-chachki]

Fic: I Saw Her Standing There

For @rpdrficexchange‘s RPDR Christmas Fic Exchange

For: Honey (@ultras-violet) Request: “I would really like Vatya or Vixie, pretty much any genre except angst is good. I just don’t want it to be sad haha” Summary: He saw her standing there, but she was a zombie.  A/N: Based on the puzzle game by the same name [link]  Hope you enjoy. 😘💋 [AO3 Link]

With his bag over his shoulder, Brian bolted the lock to the bunker and headed downstairs. It really was a miracle he could still find canned food that hadn’t been looted already; though, with nearly everyone he knew already being either dead or a zombie, it wasn’t like many actual people were needing the nonperishable foods. What he wouldn’t give for a decent hot meal though. What he wouldn’t give for something mouthwateringly delicious, like pancakes. Sweet, fluffy pancakes drenched in decadent maple syrup and topped with an assortment of macerated fruit. Brian practically salivated at the thought.  

“Hey, Violet,” Brian said with a grin as he reached the final few steps, “I’m back. Miss m–” Brian’s smile dropped as he looked into the room. It was quiet. No should of shuffling feet. Brian looked at the back corner where he kept the cage.

The cage was empty.

Brian’s shoulders fell as he dropped his bag. “Again?”

–

Now, to go back to the beginning…

When the outbreak first happened, Brian had been lost. All of his friends in Los Angeles had been infected – how he somehow survived without Trixie’s level head, he had no idea – and he had no way of contacting anyone else. Cell towers had died within hours of the initial outbreak. Brian had only encountered a handful of other survivors along the way, but distrust between strangers prevented any of them sticking around for long. At least at first. Maybe things would have been different now, but Brian hadn’t seen any signs of any other living humans in weeks.

But then, Brian saw her standing there. Amongst the abandoned buildings looted from everything of significance from the few survivors, Violet stood alone. When Brian saw Violet facing away from him, adorned in the familiar though now torn rhinestoned jacket, Brian knew he had finally found someone to help keep himself afloat.

Even when Violet turned around and Brian could see the peeling and rotting flesh on Violet’s cheek, how her once luscious hair now hung limp and lifeless, she still looked just as beautiful as she did during the Season Eight finale when she left everyone speechless. When Brian looked closer, instead of just seeing the mad look of hunger he so often saw, Brian would swear that he saw a spark of familiarity in Violet’s dark, sunken, glazed eyes.  

Brian saw Violet standing there, but she was a zombie.

Violet wasn’t like the other mindless monsters that had taken over the country though, possibly even the world. She wasn’t. Violet’s eyes told Brian she wasn’t.

So, instead of fleeing, Brian kept track of her. He built a cage, and when the cage was ready, all he needed to do was reveal himself to Violet, and Violet followed him. She loved him, and he cold tell by how she would just follow him and walk straight into the cage. With Violet, Brian no longer had to be alone in this deserted world.

In the cage and in the bunker, Brian kept Violet and himself safe from the other mindless zombies.

However, on some occasions, when Brian would be out, Violet would manage to escape. How? Brian could never figure it out; the cage always seemed secure. Brian, though, would always need to find and capture Violet again before she could get hurt. She wasn’t like the other zombies after all.

–

Violet shuffled her way to the mall. It had been Christmas time when the virus had taken over, and the stair rails still had faux garland and dead lights still strung up, and even a fake tree with fake snow still stood in the center with remnants of wrapping paper littering the ground from the presents that had been destroyed within the first couple of weeks by desperate humans.

Violet had been human once; she knew that. Just like all the undead, their former lives were fragile and human. They were like scared animals back then. Even though the virus had only been around for a few months, it felt like an entire lifetime ago for Violet – it was, in fact an entire lifetime ago technically – and she could barely remember anything from her previous life. All she really knew was that Katya was familiar to her, so familiar to her inner soul that it carried over from one life to the next. Violet felt…warm when she looked at Katya. A good warm like from a hot meal, not the bad kind like when fire was shoved in her face. It was why Violet let Katya capture her again and again, though she was starting to grow tired from the repetitiousness of it. Something needed to change soon.

As Violet shuffled through the front doors, she swept her eyes from side to side; the corner of her mouth twitched in what would have been a smile if she still had the muscle control for it as she made her way over to a cluster of undead.

‘Hey,’ Violet grunted as she approached other former queens. Alaska, Courtney, Raja and Raven, and Detox grunted in acknowledgment.

Trixie, with only one eye and one ear (the other being an empty eye socket and a hole on the side of her head from being severed in a confrontation with a particularly aggressive human), turned and let out a series of hoarse grunts, resembling her trademark laugh. ‘Finally made it back out of your cage, huh, Violet?’

Or, at least that’s what Violet assumed Trixie said. The undead didn’t really have an actual language, per se. They didn’t quite have the capabilities of full speech – their tongues were too leaden to control sounds if they even still had tongues, and many of them were missing teeth and even chunks of their jaws – and sign language was kind of hard to master with stiff, deadened fingers. So, instead of any formal language, the undead relied on feelings they interpreted from the grunts and moans they sent each other. It could be difficult to understand another member of the undead that one was unfamiliar with, but for Trixie and Violet, they’d known each other from their mortal lives, and even though they didn’t really remember why, that old friendship made it easy for them to communicate with the barest of noises.

‘Oh, ha ha. Very funny.’  Violet nudged Trixie’s shoulder with her arm as her own shoulders drooped.

Trixie tilted her head to the side, much like a confused puppy. ‘Something the matter, Vi?’

Violet sighed. ‘It’s just…it’s getting old – this thing with Katya – and, I don’t know. You still remember her, don’t you?’ Violet’s head tilted back to look at Trixie.

Trixie grunted as she placed a decaying arm on Violet’s shoulder. ‘Not really. Think I might remember feeling good around her once, but now, well, she’d probably taste just as good if not better.’ Trixie looked over at Violet with an open mouthed approximation of a grin with her yellowed teeth and green-hued gums.

Violet’s ribs shook with a series of grunts. ‘You’re absolutely terrible.’

Trixie just leaned more fully against Violet as they both focused more into the group’s discussion. Something about moving north? Or maybe pancakes. Violet could really do with some pancakes right about now.

–

Brian loaded up his jeep with Violet’s cage. Violet certainly seemed to enjoy escaping from her cage – it was the fifth time in a fortnight – but Brian always managed to put her back in her cage without fail. This time wouldn’t be any different. Nothing would ever keep Brian away from Violet. Nothing.

Brian drove to what was left of the old mall; the last few times Violet had escaped, this had been where she had headed. Too bad the place was infested with zombies. The mean zombies, not ones like Violet though. Never like Violet.

About a block away from the mall, Brian parked. Any closer, and the zombies would hear him. Plus, he needed time to set up the cage for Violet so that he couldn’t kill him accidentally or possibly even infect him. Brian didn’t know what happened to those that got infected, but he didn’t want to risk himself becoming a mean, mindless monster like the others. He didn’t want to ever stop loving Violet.

Once he got the cage set up, Brian crept to a small, side entrance to the mall. He just had to avoid being seen by the other zombies until he found Violet. Inside, Brian kept his eyes peeled for a flash of sparkle. Most zombies seemed to wear drab clothes, either because they had been turned so early into the apocalypse that the sparkling jewels or whatever had fallen off or they had turned later on when flashy clothes had become less than recommended to say the least. Violet, luckily, still had his jacket, something she must not have taken off when the outbreak happened, which, when in decent light, would still twinkle like her eyes when he looked back at Brian with such familiarity and love. 

As expected, a twinkling sparkle caught the corner of Brian's eye, and there Violet stood. Brian frowned as he took in the other zombies surrounding him. He could recognize them all as former friends and coworkers. There was Alaska and Courtney, Detox, Manilla, Raja and Raven, and of course, Trixie who was keeping Violet from leaving them. While Brian missed them all, especially Trixie, one of her closest friends who used to always be able to make her cackle like a dying hyena on Prozac, none of them had ever looked at Brian like Violet did. They all just looked at him like he was a happy meal with the prize inside his guts ready to be ripped out and played with. There was nothing that differentiated them from the other mindless zombies other than they had faces her used to love. 

All Brian had to do now was get Violet’s attention and lure her away from Trixie’s grasp.

As Brian crept closer, while making sure to keep out of sight of the other zombies, he failed to pay attention to the floor. The floor that had a handful of decorative ornaments from the holidays. The ornaments that Brian then stepped on.

With a whoosh, the ornament slid out from under Brian’s foot. Brian yelled as his legs flew up in the air, and the breath rushed out as he hit the ground hard. With a grimace, Brian turned and looked out where every zombie in the area had turned to look at him.

“Great,” Brian muttered to himself as he sought out Violet’s eyes.

Violet turned her head at the commotion and locked eyes with Katya. She let out a huff as she turned fully around so that she could follow Katya wherever she would lead as she alway did. The other undead respected her wishes to keep Katya alive for now, but Violet first had to get to her to remind them all. Some would forget without the physical reminder.

At her side, Trixie let out a snorting grunt. ‘You know, if you don’t want to keep being caged like a good little pet, you don’t have to.’

Violet’s frosty stare said it all as she began to shuffle her way to Katya. ‘Katya is not a human for eating.’

Trixie grunted as she followed behind Violet along with the others in their group. ‘Fine, don’t eat her even though she’d probably be delicious. Still, you don’t have to keep this up. Plus, it’s not like all of us are going to hang around here forever.’

Violet glanced back at Trixie with a slight confused furrow to her brows. ‘What do you mean?’

Trixie ambled closer to Violet. ‘There are rumors of somewhere the undead are gathering. A utopia of sorts.’ Trixie looked at Violet with a slight squint to the corner of her single eye. ‘I hear they have all you can eat pancakes.’

Violet snorted. ‘Yeah, that sounds like a utopia.’

Trixie’s arms swung at her sides as she stumbled closer to Violet. ‘Well, that’s where everyone’s talking of heading. It’s not like there’s anything tying us here anymore after all. Tap’s run out, and undead folk are hungry.’

The corners of Violet’s lips dragged down. Everyone was leaving? What should Violet even do? Stay with Katya until it was just the two of them until Katya’s mortal body perished? Or whenever Violet’s fondness for Katya vanished and her hunger took over?

Brian hurried out the door as he kept glancing behind himself. Violet was usually faster than the other zombies, but Brian knew that could all change in a heartbeat. All he needed to do was get Violet to the cage. Once he had her enclosed, the other zombies would always all stop, almost like they knew she was safe with him, but Brian figured it likely had more to do with them not wanting to be trapped themselves.

As Brian looked back again, he could see Violet following him with a hoard of hungry, near salivating zombies behind her. While Brian was thrilled with how Violet loved to follow him, he could really do without the horde.

Brian looked forward again and saw the cage sitting at the end of the block. Good. Brian jogged the rest of the way and stood on the opposite side of the cage.

As Violet shuffled closer, the other undead starting to taper off and stop their pursuit of Katya as they stared at Violet. The last to stop walking, as usual, was Trixie who gave Violet a parting grunt. ‘Remember, you decide how you live your life.’

Violet shuffled the rest of the way to the cage, and, after a momentary pause, sighed and limped inside. The door shut with a clang.

Once satisfied that the other zombies had stopped their pursuit, Brian turned and grinned at Violet. “Got out again, did you? I really should look into getting better locks for this thing, shouldn’t I, Vis? Don’t know what I’d do without you,” Brian chuckled. “Anyway, it’s good to have you back. Let’s get on back home.”

Violet glanced back at Trixie who tilted her head at Violet. Would she really just go back with Katya? Again? Each and every time? The monotony was already boring her. Plus, all of her friends were getting ready to move on.

As Katya wheeled a trolley over, Violet reached up and broke off one of the top supporting bars.

The cage crashed around her.

Brian froze. The cage was broken. His eyes flew open wide as they shot up to look at Violet.

“Violet?”

Violet lunged.

–

Violet looked down at Katya’s still body. Mostly, she just stared at the hard bite on the underside of Katya’s jaw that was already starting to fester and the hole in her chest where Violet had punched her fist through to stop Katya’s beating heart. The other undead had already returned to the mall, and Violet had sent Trixie along with her after a series of questioning grunts, but she, she would wait here with Katya. She would be here to meet Katya in her new life.

After some long hours had passed – time didn’t really matter much to the undead – Katya stirred on the ground.

Violet tilted her head as she shifted her feet.

Katya’s eyes blinked open, still whole and green, though faded and slightly opaque like most other undead, and Violet froze.

Katya turned her head just a tad and saw Violet standing there with the sunlight bouncing off of her sallow skin, but it was all okay. After all, Katya was a zombie now as well.

With a small grunt, Katya sat up. ‘Violet?’

Violet let out a series of pleased grunts in response.

Katya staggered to her feet, her legs stiff but with little feeling in them. ‘I’m a zombie, but I’m still me.’

‘Yes,’ Violet grunted as she nodded her head.

‘What do we do now?’

The corner’s of Violet’s lips turned up. ‘Whatever we want. There’s still some pancakes left in the food court.’ Violet stuck out her hand to Katya.

With more dexterity than Violet after only being dead – or undead – for a few hours, Katya reached for Violet’s hand and forced their finger to entwine. ‘Pancakes sound delicious.’

Fin

A/N: And two sequel games to make your holidays fun (and to imagine what happens next)! [i saw her too, with lasers] and [i saw her across the world]

[laurabelle2930]

Forever At Odds~Comfort

Alright folks well I’m back from HVFF Nashville and somehow I managed to get this weeks prompt done! So this week the amazing @thebookjumper gave us the “Comfort” prompt and I’ll admit I was wondering how that would work in the world I’d created but it looks like comfort works in any reality. So here it is my contribution to the @olicityhiatusficathon 

Read it here or on AO3

Chapter 4: Comfort

She brushed her fingers over his temple softly as her sated body began to fall into the familiar rhythm of mindless sleep.  His ear remained over her thudding heart while his palm remained splayed over her barely rounded stomach. “So are we finally in agreement?” Felicity asked hopefully before the exertions of the day threatened consume her weary mind.  

Oliver’s thumb skirted over her belly button, his chin rubbed along the upper aspect of her left breast while his lips brushed along her tender nipple. Felicity’s body reacted as her stomach stirred but, she’d delayed this conversation for far too long…

Oliver’s nose tickled along her skin when his furrowed brow slipped along her upper chest. “Do you remember the night you had your first nightmare?”

Felicity’s fingertips tickled along his hairline gently. “Baby we really have to make this decision before she storms the damn castle and, you’re talking about bad dreams? “ she laughed ruefully.

Oliver’s lips curved along her areola. Felicity’s stomach slipped through a series of frantic motions as the space between her thighs grew wet. “I’m trying to explain my choice,” he replied as his palm slipped over her small bump.

Felicity growled, “And how does that wretched night explain your reasoning exactly?”

His tongue slipped along her elongated nipple before his nose traveled along the outer ridge of her sternum, “Baby just answer the damn question do you remember it or not?” he poked before his mouth become otherwise engaged.  

His insistence made her frown but, the way his mouth was moving over her left breast told her her patience would soon be richly rewarded. She felt his palm slip past her belly button when a possessive, “Yeah baby I remember,” passed from her panting lips. Seconds later she felt his mouth claiming her left nipple while his fingers began to sate the growing desire between her damp thighs…

1 Year Ago…

Felicity never feared the dark for it’s where most of her life occurred. Most children were afraid of monsters hiding in the tall shadows along their bedroom walls but, not Felicity. Her demons were the one’s that children often claimed were made up stories told by exhausted parents who simply needed a few hours of sleep. When night fell most children closed their small tired eyes. The world around them slowly slipped away as the nighttime world came out to play. The moon would rise, the sun’s cheerful glow would fade and, all that remained was the forgotten world that lived in between.

Felicity used to live for that moment. She lived for the day to end so the night could finally begin. She used to sit along the bench beneath the ledge of her picture window holding a stopwatch. She’d tap her thumb along the silver start button. The sun’s dying rays lit the sky with pinks, oranges, reds and, blues. The evening waves brought the tide towards the rocky cliffs below her slippered feet. The winds shifted quickly, sending the spray of the sea salt hair past her madly grinning face. Her heart burned with dormant excitement, her fingers tapped along the marble ledge as her small lips curled in anticipation. “Five,” she whispered as the lighthouse clock began to chime. “Four,” she gulped as the light from the towering building lit the slowly darkening shore. “Three,” she grinned once the seagulls swarmed overhead. “Two,” she nearly yelped once the tip of the sun was nearly gone. “One…” she finally exhaled while the last bit of the day faded into the unending night....

Yes Felicity loved the darkness so it stuck her as odd when she suddenly began to fear the very moments that she used to yearn for as a young girl. Her life of training beneath the brightness of the pale, full moon now was nothing more than a memory she used to quell the storm within her frightened soul. Each night for the past year she’d done the same thing. Oliver in the beginning would bid her goodnight once they’d played their usual game of 20 questions. Now once she was ready to sleep as was he. He’d down the spell she’d created with a single gulp. She’d shuffle back towards her side of the room while he pulled back the duvet upon his own bed. Each then would bid the other a good night while the levels below them began to crackle with life. She could hear the laughter, the carefree conversations and, the ease of family below her feet while she kept their KIng confined to the schedule of the living. The routine was easy enough but something in her mind refused to sleep. Something in kept her clawing it’s way through her ravaged mind with sometimes nothing more than a single, burning flame.

The house had emptied for the night. Oliver was tucked away within his own dreams while the once forgiving night began to taunt the room’s other occupant. Felicity laid there frozen beneath a heavy almost blood red quilt. The sweat along her brow began to trickle down her frozen eyelashes. Her eyes stirred beneath her lids, her parted lips quivered as the thunder rattled the aging buildings stone and, mortar walls. Flashes of red, orange, and green raced past her face. The world around her was hot, the flames of a raging fire licked along her skin like the spray of her beloved ocean. Her knees shook until the bones knocked uncomfortably beneath the once comforting blankets. She mumbled into the dark, lifeless room, “No...no... I’m afraid…”

Her fingers curled over the intricate edge of the silk sheets that kept her shivering body swaddled in hues of red and, black. Felicity screamed, “NO I’M AFRAID!” before a pair of cold hands fell gently over her rattled shoulders.

Still feeling trapped within the ring of unending flames she brought her palms to her chest, she began chanting widely as she threw her small fists towards her attackers arms. The cold touch along her dampened skin slipped to her wrists. She felt caged, she felt trapped but, something in her stomach felt sated as the world of flames began to shift into a swirl of endless, black smoke. She panted, “No...please don’t do this to me! I’m afraid! Don’t you understand I’m scared!”

She felt a pair of thumbs brushing against the pulse points of her slim wrists. She heard a smooth, whiskey sounding voice whispering from the beyond the cloud of smoke. “Felicity it’s okay, do you hear me it’s okay baby, you don’t have to be afraid. It’s okay…”

Her eyes rattled beneath her closed lids. Her fists fell into a pair of outstretched hands as the cold touch of her protector began to softly twine their trembling fingers. Felicity whimpered through her unending darkness, “Don’t let go…”

Her soft spoken savior reassured her with a soft, “Never…” before she felt his familiar touch drifting along her bruised knuckles.

Her body stilled, the smoke cleared and there before her with a soft smile of genuine affection stood the one person who had never tied to betray her.

There before her clouded, tear rimmed eyes stood her husband.

Felicity’s eyes opened slowly. The pale moon was looming above the Gothic looking trees that surrounded the landlocked property. The iron like branches scratched along the glass as the harsh winds blew frantically through the summer air. She felt his touch along their joined hands. Her heart stammered in fear as her stomach slipped to her shaking toes. He smiled sweetly as their hips bumped. “You still with me Felicity?” came his sweetened question of reassurance.

Felicity’s quivering lips managed a small, “How are you awake?”

Oliver’s fingers danced along her knuckles while he gently squeezed at the joined hands, “I heard you screaming,” he stated easily.

Felicity’s mind raced. Her spell shouldn’t have broken. He shouldn’t be here and, he certainly shouldn’t have been there...Oliver’s curious baby blues took in her ashen face. She flushed beneath his gaze until she swore his lips began to curl with an ounce of empathy. In an instant her body shuddered. Oliver’s brow rose in concern, “I didn’t mean to startle you…” he began fumbling as his eyes burned through her torn soul.

Felicity’s racing heart stilled at the tenderness within his perfect voice. “It’s you…” she seemed to whisper in utter confusion as the flames from her dream began to erupt into a very different kind of flame.

“What’s me?” he asked quietly while his thumbs continued to race along her flawed knuckles.

Felicity’s eyes flickered until she found the peace held within the blue irises of his comforting depths. Her skin began to warm, her mind began to slow and, her heart began to beat with the feeling of safety as she calmly uttered, “The person who saved me…”

Oliver’s lips fell into a confused frown, “Ba..” he started before his face fell in dismay.

Felicity squeezed at their joined hands, “Somehow I don’t mind the that particular term of endearment,” she soothed as his eyes brightened slightly.

“Baby I didn’t save you,” he finished with an adorable disarming mumble. “Whatever happened was just a bad dream,” he explained while she gazed at him almost lovingly.

Her chin fell to her chest, “Oliver can you do me a favor?” came her mumbled request seconds after her bashful eyes fell towards the darkened quilt.

His affected, “Sure honey what do you need?” caused the flame inside her heart to flicker widely.

“Could you stay with me?” she mumbled rapidly.

She felt him leaning forward. Her pulse began to race as his chest brushed her bare upper arms. Her heart thumped within her rattled body as he gently brushed his lips along her cheek. She nearly wept with unspoken joy when he eventually murmured along her dampened brow…

“Always, Felicity. I’ll always stay with you…”

Present Day....

She felt his fingers slipping down her slick thighs. She cried out lowly, “Dammit baby that was almost criminal…” as he slowly flicked his tongue along her erect nipple.

His grin of satisfaction left her body sated on more than one level. “So do you understand?” came his rushed words as she slowly raked her fingers through his matted hair.

Felicity thought back through that night. After she’d asked him to stay he’d remained at her side with his lips gently brushing her crinkled forehead until she’d once again fallen into a dreamless sleep. When she’d woken the next morning she found him lying beside her above the covers with his head situated over her beating heart. She remembered slipping her fingers along his chiseled jaw while she whispered a grateful thank you towards his closed eyes.

Coming back to the present she shivered with longing when she felt the scuff of his chin roaming along her bare sternum. His sticky fingers fell along her hips as he slowly tipped his head until the tip of his nose was running softly over her abused skin. She slipped her fingers through his unruly hair until her nails found the ridges of his scapula. She pressed her nails along his taut, pale skin until she heard a low yelp of pleasure emanating through her racing chest. She bit at her lower lip when his rattled, “Baby do you understand now? Do you understand why’ve I been fighting you?”

Felicity’s heart quickened when he pressed a tender kiss to her clavicle. She tried to quell her stammering heart as she breathed, “You’re afraid of losing my heart…”

She felt his forehead as it fell along her lips in relief. She smiled while another rueful laugh left her lips. “You know I was never afraid of the dark until I married you…”

He muttered with his lips along her throat, “What changed other than you know being married to a vampire who on some level longed to drink your blood?”

Felicity considered his questions for mere moments before her lips burned along his skin with her thoughtful response, “I think I was afraid of succumbing to something I’d never dared to wish for honestly.

She felt his forehead rolling into small wrinkles along her lips. She smiled when his words rushed along the hollow of her throat, “And what exactly did you succumb to?”

Felicity muttered easily, “Love, I fell in love with the very symbol of my beloved night.”

She felt him shaking with laughter above her chest, “You know I never did ask but that night when I “saved” you what exactly did I save you from?”

Felicity rolled her toes along the backs of his calves as she adjusted her hips; allowing his body to mold gently along hers. She felt his lower abdomen jump along her slick nether lips as she trailed her fingers gently along his sloped spine. “Well as you know I was afraid of you…” she whispered almost sadly. “In the dream I’m surrounded by a roaring fire. I kept screaming in fear as a faceless body circled me.”

Oliver’s forehead brushed along her lips in confusion, “Please don’t tell me I was the faceless body…”

“No baby, the body was a symbol,” she explained. “Much like my heart is for you I suspect.”

Oliver’s small, “Exactly,” rattled her soul. 

“I was afraid of falling in love and, the dream pointed out that I already had,” she seemed to realize for perhaps the first time. “You saved me from myself,” she quipped as his body began to shudder almost uncontrollably. 

Oliver’s voice rattled her ribcage, “I used to listen to your heartbeat,” he began to confide as the night around them began to wane. “I memorized every beat, I knew when you were happy, or sad. I knew when you were afraid or upset. Hell I even thought I knew when you felt love instead of hate.” Felicity continued to strum her fingers down the line of his spine while he bared his soul. “Felicity your heart center’s me. It’s comforts me and, it sustains me…” She felt her soul shiver in grieve when he finally admitted why he was so afraid. “If I change you my soul will be gone… Everything that saves me each and, every single day is wrapped up in your beating heart…” he took a solitary beat before uttering, “in your humanity and, if it’s gone I don’t know where we’ll be. I don’t know where your love for me will be…”

She pressed a kiss to his brow before her lips brushed over his skin in hushed words of comfort. “But Oliver my beating heart is the result of spell. Beneath it I’m just like you…”

She felt him slip his forehead down past her chin. She smiled as his slowly moved his lips down her sternum until his ear was once again over her beating heart. “What if you only fell in love with me because of the spell? What if your true self has no need for such a futile emotion?”

Felicity grumbled, “That’s ridiculous. If it was a spell that made me love you then why was it your face that I saw once the flames died down?”

Oliver’s lips brushed against her breast, “What do you mean?” he quired like a child with innocent curiosity.

She mumbled quietly, “That night the dream only stopped because I felt you. I heard you, and when the smoke cleared it was your face that came out from the darkness. I didn’t fall in love with you on accident Oliver. I fell in love with you because of fate.”

Oliver’s affected words left her body in complete yearning, “You really think it was fate that brought us together?”

Felicity didn’t hesitate, “You’re my heart Oliver.” She felt him burying his fingers along her hips as her fingers continued racing along his back in a frenzy of affection. “Without you I was incomplete,” she soothed as her lips fell over his temple. “You’re never going to lose me Oliver, I’d never do anything that would tear us apart…”

His lips brushed along her nipple one more, “Once I do this everything will change…” he muttered in something that bordered both anguish and, acceptance.  

Felicity’s fingers moved along his defined shoulders blades soothingly, “Yes but my love for you and, for our child won’t,” she declared with absolute certainty.

“So we agree?” he finally mumbled once his palm was once again splayed along her stomach. “I’ll change you once the first trimester is done?”

Felicity rubbed out the knots that she’d found as she rubbed her hand along his back. “Yes,” she nearly stammered in relief. “We finally agree….”

Tagging: @emmaamelia95 @pleasantfanandstudent @coal000 @memcjo @coal000 @mrsbubblelee @olicitylovemaking @miriam1779 @love2luvyyou @almondblossomme @diggo26 @rivaroma @vaelisamaza @befitandchase @pimsiepim @andjustforthismoment @anonymiss118 @thelockpickingvictorian @yet-i-remain-quiet @lexi9515 @kathrynelizabeth89 @marniforolicity @marytagus @cjjingram @myhauntedblacksoul @myuntetheredsoul @blondiegrl00 @independent-fics @felicity-said-just-in-case @relativelyobsessedfangirl @i-m-a-fan-world @mel-loves-all @danski15 @green-arrows-of-karamel @malafle @emilyp05 @oliverfel4 @alemap74 @vicky-vale @charlinert @hope-for-olicity @missafairy @arrows-4ever @jaspertown @sweetzcupcake @captainolicitysbedroom @nalla-madness @smoakingarrow19 @bwangangelic @ccdimples88 @lalawo1 @ireland1733 @quiveringbunny @scu11y22 @detbensonsvu1 @tdgal1 @cinfos @xxliveyourlife @onceuponarrow @supersillyanddorky06 @wherethereissmoak @olicityinmyheart @all-things-olicity @bitchwhwifi @thebookjumper @olicityhiatusficathon @missyriver @olicitysmoaky @redpensandgreenarrows @jedichick04 @emmilynestill  

[trashynoona]

Seat 5A

Word count: 2,105

Content: Fluff, lot’s of fluff! (It’s our chim chim after all ^^)

It was 2am and the girl was glad to have finally settled down in the plane. She began shuffling around her seat, getting her usual flight routine ready. ‘Earphones, check. Pillow, check. Eyemask, check. Favourite cosy blankie, check.’ She does a little happy dance as she sniffed the blanket she had with her since she was a baby. Once the girl was done sorting out her flight routine, she leaned back on her seat with a sigh of relief. The girl had spent the last 6 months writing her honors thesis and shewere glad it was over and was looking forward towards this month long break in Australia. Her best friend had moved to Australia for his studies upon graduating high school and she finally found time to visit him in the little quaint city he has been gushing about.

It was 2am but Park Jimin is feeling more alive than ever. BTS have had a crazy fruitful year and he was more than grateful for it, however, he was also glad that it has come to an end and he is finally able to take this long awaited solo-trip that he has been planning since forever.

Jimin removed his face mask and hat then fell back on the seat; relieved. He muses at himself and did a happy dance as he recalled how he left his luggage behind in the airport transfer bus in Norway and made a mental note to remember his luggage this time.

Just as he was amused at himself, he noticed the girl next to him; sniffling some sort of a cloth and doing the exact same happy dance he just did. Jimin’s bushy eyebrows tweaked up and he was curious about the girl. Jimin did not feel like the usual shy boy he is tonight because he was happy and the few glasses of wine at the pre-departure lounge probably added some courage as well. So, Jimin decided he was going to talk to the curious girl next to him.

‘Aren’t you a little too energetic for a 2am flight?’ Jimin arched over his seat and addressed the girl.

‘Well, I think I’m very much allowed to be happy at 2am because I just submitted my honors thesis that I had been working on since forever!’ The girl quipped.

‘Aren’t you a little too energetic for a 2am flight as well then? And what’s with the hat and face mask, what, are you a terrorist?!’ The girl teased.

Jimin was dumbfounded, he was not sure of how to respond. He thought that everyone in Korea would know that people who generally hid their faces were celebrity of sorts and now that the girl has seen his face, he thought she would know who he is for sure. Afterall, bts and Park Jimin were indeed pretty huge in 2016.

‘Yaaa!~ Chill. I was just teasing you. Since we are both so happy and we have a long flight ahead of us, let me get us some booze, my treat!’ The girl shot her hand up to catch the attention of a flight attendant.

‘To be fair, these drinks are free since we did pay a lot of money for this full service flight right...’ Jimin corrected the girl.

The girl did not respond. Instead, she shoves a glass of apple maritini in Jimin’s hand and knocked his glass gently before downing the content of her glass.

‘This boy is so uptight, but I guess that makes him kinda cute. The way his eye disappears when he smiles, what on Earth?!’ The girl made a mental note in her head as she watches the boy down his drink. She was feeling a bit of the heat rising to her head. She has never been a good drinker, especially in Korean terms and the fact that she was running on little sleep did not help her alcohol tolerance level. However, she was determined to make the best out of this flight; afterall, she did pay quite a hefty price for a business-class upgrade.

She quietly muses about how the upgrade even came with a cute neighbor.

‘What are you laughing about?’ Jimin enquires.

‘Mm nothing. Busybody.’ The girl shot her tongue out at the boy and they both broke out into laughter, possibly thanks to the alcohol running in their system.

Jimin was smitten. He had not seen anybody so beautifully carefree in a long time. Although he was always surrounded by beautiful idols, he thought they were often uptight and too polished. Himself included. It was refreshing for him to be around somebody who’s so real for a change.

‘BUUuuuuuUURRRrrrrRRrRP’ The girl covered her mouth and giggled.

‘Wow. that. was.... pretty… weak huh?’ Jimin teases; unimpressed. He then proceeds to burp, louder and more obnoxiously.

The duo continued their little burping battle which often follows with a roar of laughter. They were so engrossed in their obnoxious little game that they did not notice the stares of the other patrons.

‘You’re not like a regular korean girl aren’t you.’ Jimin commented.

‘What do you mean?’ The girl shook her head in confusion.

‘I mean, you don’t seem to care who I am at all, and we just had a burp battle... that’s not very much a stereotypical lady-like korean right?’ Jimin muses.

‘Well... perhaps maybe because while I was born in Korea, I practically grew up in America and only came back to Korea for 6 months of university because I have been really intrigued by the richness of Korean culture so I decided to major in Korean studies! What about you? We should be about the same age right, are you in university?’ The girl asked.

‘Well... I am... technically.. sort of..’ Jimin answered.

‘What do you mean sort of? Omg. Are you like a korean idol or something that’s why you don’t have time for school?’ The girl teases and nudges as Jimin.

Jimin’s face was heated and he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that this beautiful girl next to him had no clue who he is. He decided to play along and pretended to be a regular college kid for once.

‘I mean yeah I am in school! Duh! I am 22 years old, obviously I am in college.’ Jimin laughs it off.

The duo continues to be loud and obnoxious through the plane ride but they eventually got tired as the night went by and eventually fell asleep leaning on one another.

The girl shuffled around and rubbed her eyes, only to realize she is very much stuck. Her head was on the boy’s shoulder and his head was gently leaning on top of hers. It felt safe and she smiled to herself. That was when she realised, their hands were linked and the boy was holding onto her hands tightly. Suddenly, she felt her cheeks heat up, slightly overwhelmed by the unexpected skinship from the random cute stranger she met on the plane. The girl felt her heart racing and butterflies growing in her tummy as she gingerly positioned the boy’s head on her shoulder so she can watch the beautiful boy sleep. She felt him shuffled in his sleep and she held her breath; afraid to have awoken him from his slumber.

Jimin tiredly opens an eye, smiles at the girl and reaches forward to place a gentle peck on her cheeks.

Jimin forgot the last time he had so much fun as a regular person. He was glad to be treated like a regular person; unlike a celebrity and just have mindless fun as a typical college kid. It made it extra special since the girl seated next to him was totally his type. She was petite and has cute chubby cheeks and a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. Jimin loved the sound of her laughter, the way her eye crinkles and how she subconsciously tugs a strand of her beautiful long raven hair behind her ear.  She kind of reminded him of his best pal, Taehyung. Minus the annoyance and definitely a lot more attractive than his pabo buddy. At least in Jimin’s eyes.

The girl has fallen asleep on his shoulder and he is smiling to himself silly. He knew the members would definitely tease him about it if they had known. Something about ‘ooooh our jiminnie is a big boy now’, so he was quite sure he was never going to tell the members about the girl.

Jimin rested his head on hers as he takes in her comforting scent. She smells like a mixture lavender, roses, jasmine and the ocean. Jimin casually wondered if it is possible to place her scent into a wax candle so he could bring it back home with him.

Just as his thoughts floated away, he quietly reached out for the sleeping girl’s hand. The last time Jimin actually held a girl’s hand for real was in highschool before he debuted with BTS. It felt strange and refreshing as it has been so long. It felt innocent and simple, unlike the occasional flings he had simply to satisfy his needs as a man. This refreshing occurrence made his heart race and butterflies grew in his stomach. He was shy again. He ordered another glass of apple martini and gulped it down; not wanting his shy persona to come out just as he was getting close to the girl who’s still sound asleep on his shoulder.

Jimin felt her shuffle under his head and he immediately kept his eyes shut; pretending to be asleep. Just as the girl gently picked his head up and place it on her shoulder, he smiled to himself. Her scent was even stronger now and it seem to have made Jimin braver, along with the glass of alcohol he had just downed a while ago.

So Jimin did something he never would have dared on a regular day. He reached forward and gave the girl a peck on her cheeks.

The girl turned around and faced him; flustered. Jimin moved closer to get a good view of her response and inched closer to her face, asking for permission to kiss her on her lips. The girl smiled and Jimin took his cue and rested his soft plump lips on hers. Their lips molded together perfectly as Jimin intensifies the kiss, begging for entrance to her lips. The girl smiled into the kiss again and Jimin took the opportunity for his tongue to enter her mouth. Her breath was warm and their tongues did a little dance together. The girl broke off from the kiss and smiled again.

‘You’re an opportunist aren’t you?’ She teases.

‘That’s my motto, sweetheart, I’m known for my greed to be the best and to work hard at everything I set my mind to.’ Jimin kisses the girl again as he bragged about his work ethics.

‘I know... but I’m sorry but I like Yoongi oppa better.’ The girl teases in a sing-song voice in the midst of their kiss.

This time, it was Jimin who pulls away.

‘Wait. what? Yoongi oppa? So you do know who I am! Why did you pretend like you didnt?’ Jimin was confused, slightly worried that he might have just made out with a crazy fan.

‘Erm... to be fair, I did not actually say I don’t know who bts is. Besides, would you prefer if I had made a big deal about it? Relax, I am not a crazy fan. I was introduced to kpop by my roomate in university a few weeks back and that was where I found out about you guys. I must say, Min Yoongi is seriously cute.’ The girl declared.

‘Well... well too bad. Yoongi hyung isn’t here and you’re not even his type!’ Jimin was defensive. He crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue at the girl.

‘And.. I am your type?’ The girl teases as she leans closer to Jimin.

‘Yes.’ Jimin responded as he dives into her lips again. This time stronger and more passionate.

Neither of them knew what was this entire plane ride was about, but they knew they needed to let their overwhelming feelings for one another out and the only way was to be as close to one another as possible as their tongues dance to the rhythm of the airplane’s systems. Nothing mattered at that moment; nothing except the intense, strong feelings they shared with one another.

Jimin thought that maybe, maybe he is already experiencing the highlight of his trip as he secretly pray for the flight slow down.

I have yet to decide if I want to make this a one-shot or a series, so do leave a reply and let me know! And I hope you enjoyed it while I continue to busk in my recent obsession with our chim chim ^.^

[digital-strategy]

For 17-year-old Mary Amanuel, from London, it happened in Tesco. “We were in year 7,” she remembers, “and my friend had made an Instagram account. As we were buying stuff, she was counting the amounts of likes she’d got on a post. ‘Oooh, 40 likes. 42 likes.’ I just thought: ‘This is ridiculous.’”

Isabelle, an 18-year-old student from Bedfordshire who doesn’t want to disclose her surname, turned against social media when her classmates became zombified. “Everyone switched off from conversation. It became: ‘Can I have your number to text you?’ Something got lost in terms of speaking face to face. And I thought: ‘I don’t really want to be swept up in that.’” For 15-year-old Emily Sharp, from Staines in Surrey, watching bullying online was the final straw. “It wasn’t nice. That deterred me from using it.”

It is widely believed that young people are hopelessly devoted to social media. Teenagers, according to this stereotype, tweet, gram, Snap and scroll. But for every young person hunched over a screen, there are others for whom social media no longer holds such an allure. These teens are turning their backs on the technology – and there are more of them than you might think.

Quarter of 14-year-old girls in UK have self-harmed, report finds

While many of us have been engrossed in the Instagram lives of our co-workers and peers, a backlash among young people has been quietly boiling. One 2017 survey of British schoolchildren found that 63% would be happy if social media had never been invented. Another survey of 9,000 internet users from the research firm Ampere Analysis found that people aged 18-24 had significantly changed their attitudes towards social media in the past two years. Whereas 66% of this demographic agreed with the statement “social media is important to me” in 2016, only 57% make this claim in 2018. As young people increasingly reject social media, older generations increasingly embrace it: among the 45-plus age bracket, the proportion who value social media has increased from 23% to 28% in the past year, according to Ampere’s data.

This is part of a wider trend. According to a study by US marketing firm Hill Holliday of Generation Z – people born after 1995 – half of those surveyed stated they had quit or were considering quitting at least one social media platform. When it comes to Gen Z’s relationship to social media, “significant cracks are beginning to show”, says the firm’s Lesley Bielby.

She believes we will definitely see an increase in younger people quitting or substantially reducing their use. “And as younger Gen Zers notice this behaviour among their older siblings and friends, they too will start to dial down their use of social media.”

As the first generation to grow up online, Gen Z never had to learn social media, or at least not exactly. They glided through every iteration: Facebook (2004), Twitter (2006), Instagram (2010) Snapchat (2011) in real time, effortlessly adopting each one. But a life lived in pixels from your earliest age is no easy thing.

“You start doing things that are dishonest,” says Amanuel, who quit social media aged 16. “Like Instagram: I was presenting this dishonest version of myself, on a platform where most people were presenting dishonest versions of themselves.”

Like Amanuel, Jeremiah Johnson, 18, from Luton, grew weary of the pressures of sustaining an online persona. “It’s a competition for who can appear the happiest,” he says. “And if you’re not happy and want to vent about it on social media, you’re attention-seeking.”

After being “bugged” by his friends to get Instagram (he had stopped using Facebook aged 16), Johnson joined. He lasted six months. “If you’re having a bad day and scrolling through it, you’re constantly bombarded with pictures of people going to parties. Even if that’s not an accurate portrayal of their lives, that’s what you see. So I stopped using it. It became depressing. It was this competition of who’s the happiest.” He pauses. “Participating in that is not something I’m interested in.”

Hyper-connected teens have been faced with a surfeit of clicks, retweets and likes – and the dopamine rush of online validation – since the neural pathways in their brains were formed.

“They’re becoming overwhelmed with the responsibility of maintaining their social sites and with upholding the somewhat inflated persona many have created on these sites, where they are constantly seeking approval via the amount of likes they get for any given post,” Bielby says.

“The people who are the most honest about themselves do not play the game of Instagram,” Amanuel says. “The game of Instagram is who can maximise their likes by being the most risque, outrageous or conformist as possible. I didn’t want to play that game.”

At school, social media can be a brutal barometer of popularity. “If you meet someone new and they ask for your Instagram and you only have 80 followers,” says Sharp, “they’re going to think: ‘You’re not that popular’, but if you have 2,000 followers they’re going to be like: ‘You’re the most popular person in school.’” Sharp quit social media at 13. “I’d rather not know what other people think of me.”

A desire to build authentic, offline friendships motivated some to quit. “I’m so much better at real-life socialising now,” says Amanuel. “Not just those people you accept on a friend request who are friends of a friend.”

For Tyreke Morgan, 18, from Bristol, being a hard man to get hold of – he has no social media presence at all – has its advantages. “Everyone goes through other people to find me,” Morgan laughs, “and when I hear that they’re been trying to get hold of me I say: ‘Great!’ Why would I need 500 flakey friends?”

But when you are from a digitally native generation, quitting social media can feel like joining a monastery. Amanuel was recently asked by co-workers if she had Snapchat. “I said no,” Amanuel remembers, “and I instantly heard, like, gasps. It was like I’d revealed something disgusting.” She explained that she did have a Snapchat handle, but never used it. “Relief came out of their eyes! It was really weird.”

Teenagers not ready to quit entirely are stepping back for a while. Dr Amanda Lenhart, who researches young people’s online lives, conducted a survey of US teenagers, asking them about taking time off social media. “We found that 58% of teenagers said they had taken at least one break from at least one social media platform. The most common reason? It was getting in the way of schoolwork or jobs, with more than a third of respondents citing this as their primary reason for leaving social media. Other reasons included feeling tired of the conflict or drama they could see unfolding among their peer group online, and feeling oppressed too by the constant firehose of information.”

Bielby agrees that young people are becoming more aware of the amount of time they waste online. Of the young people Hill Holliday surveyed who had quit or considered quitting social media, 44% did so, she says, in order to “use time in more valuable ways”.

“I don’t know how people doing their A-levels or GCSEs have the time for it,” says Isabelle. “They’re constantly studying, but their only distraction is social media.” Rather than get sucked into a “mindless vortex of never-ending scrolling,” as she puts it, when Isabelle isn’t studying she prefers to be outdoors.

The fact that Gen Z have had their every move documented online since before they could walk, talk, or even control their bowels helps explain their antipathy to social media: it makes sense for them to strive for privacy, as soon as they reach the age when they have a choice over their online image.

“I’ve seen parents post pictures of their child’s first potty online,” says Amy Binns of the University of Central Lancashire. “You think: ‘Why are you doing this to your child? They wouldn’t want this to be public.”

Gen Z has an interest in privacy that subtly sets them apart. “Young people want to get away from the curtain-twitching village, where everyone knows everything about you,” Binns says. So while today’s teens spend a lot of time online, they don’t actually share that much personal information. And when they do share, it’s strategic. “You’re painting a picture of who you are and your image,” says Binns. “It’s your own shop window or brand.”

“Framing a picture and posting it on there is not a five-minute thing,” says Amanuel, explaining that any post will be well-thought-out in order to project a certain image and maximise likes. “It takes hours of deliberation.”

“When social media started, we didn’t really know what it was going to mean,” says Binns. “Young people are more aware of the value of privacy than we were 10 years ago.”

Amanuel says that the Cambridge Analytica story, with its exposure of widespread data harvesting, helped prompt her to get off social media, and many more young people seem to be turning against Facebook; on Tuesday, it was reported that the number of Facebook users aged 18 to 24 in Britain is expected to fall 1.8% this year.

Some of the teens I spoke to were concerned about how technologies such as Snap Map – a Snapchat feature that tracks your friends geographically, in real time – were spreading through their schools, and mistrustful of the privacy consequences of being surveilled by your followers wherever you go. “Snap Map is this big thing with a lot of my friends, but there is a sense of privacy that is being breached as well,” Isabelle says.

Teenagers are also educated about the ramifications of an offensive tweet, or explicit picture, as well as the health consequences of too much screen time. “Young people are being taught in schools about sharing nudes and how tweets can travel around. They’ve seen the horror stories,” says Binns.

Isabelle agrees. “Constant screen time damages your ability to see, and it also causes internal damage, such as anxiety.” Studies have shown that social media use can negatively affect mental wellbeing, and adolescents are particularly susceptible: one nationally representative survey of US 13- to 18-year-olds linked heavier social media use to depression and suicide, particularly in girls. And 41% of the Gen Z teens surveyed by Hill Holliday reported that social media made them feel anxious, sad or depressed.

But quitting social media can create new anxieties. “Our research shows that the biggest fear of quitting or pausing social media is missing out,” Bielby says. Some are more sanguine than others. “Do I miss out on stuff?” Morgan asks. “Yeah, of course. People find it hard to keep in contact with me. They say: ‘It would be easier if you had this or that.’ But I don’t think it’s that hard to type in my number and send a text. You’re just not willing to do it.”

Others struggle with the fear of missing out. “It’s like everyone in your friend group has gone to a party without telling you,” Johnson says. At times, he questions himself. “I second-guess myself a lot. There are some days I’m really convinced I want to reinstall it, not for myself, but because I want to appear normal.”

Still, refuseniks such as Johnson may not be outliers for ever. In a world in which everyone is online, renouncing social media is a renegade, countercultural move: as quietly punk as shaving your head or fastening your clothes with safety-pins. Morgan has become a svengali for classmates wanting to escape. “My friends come to me and say: ‘Tyreke, I don’t have social media any more,’ and I go: ‘Why? I thought that’s what you guys do.’ And they say: ‘Thanks to you, because of the things you said and the stuff you’re doing.’ It’s quite cool.”

Quitting social media is a determined move: apps including Facebook and Instagram are designed to be addictive. “Social media is so ingrained in teenage culture that it’s hard to take it out. But when you do, it’s such a relief,” Amanuel says. She has received a lot of “admiration” from her peers for quitting. “They wish they were able to log off. People feel like social media is a part of them and their identities as teenagers and something you need to do,” she says. “But I’m no less of a teenager because I don’t use it.”

via the Guardian

[bettybxiong]

How I Decreased My Weekly Office Hours From 40-plus to Less Than 8

Can a CEO Work 8 Hours a Week? Yes, and Here’s How I Did It…

You sit down at your desk ready to destroy your workday. You brew a pot of coffee, break out your calendar, and dive into your most important task. And then it happens. The phone rings, or a co-worker stops by to say “hey.” Maybe your boss swings by to ask about those TPS reports.

Whatever type of interruption you face, it’s annoying. And if you work in an office, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you’re sitting behind that desk and “clocked in,” everyone thinks it’s perfectly okay to engage you.

Unfortunately, these random engagements can absolutely kill your productivity. Not only can they knock you off task, but they can consume your mental energy for the day. While I didn’t notice how much time I was losing before I had kids, I notice it much more now that I have four. And yes, being a parent has severely limited my ability to endure small talk and mindless babble. Parents, you know what I’m talking about.

Twenty minutes in a hallway talking about last night’s game. A co-worker lamenting over workplace stuff. A leisurely lunch invite that turns into a two-hour affair against your will. This is the type of stuff that can waste your productivity and reduce your potential.

Creating Space and Forging a New Path

After a few years of enduring these wasted moments and opportunities, I was convinced something needed to change. I wanted to get out of the office more, but to accomplish nearly the same amount of work. More importantly, I wanted to stop wasting so much time when I could be home with my family or out enjoying life.

At first, I thought leaving the office more often would be an impossible feat. I mean, how could leave more often yet still accomplish the same level of work?

Sure, I was the CEO of my own wealth management firm, but that doesn’t mean I could come and go as I pleased. If I wasn’t in the office, what would my clients think? Was my team even capable of running everything in my absence? What if something went wrong?

It took me a while to realize I was consumed with limiting beliefs. Fortunately, a few amazing entrepreneurs and thought leaders that made me realize the error of my ways.

First, I read Tim Ferris’ book The 4-Hour Workweek and realized what was possible. Using the strategies in his book, I could reduce my time in the office significantly, right?

Second, I joined a coaching program by the name of Strategic Coach. During this program, they introduced me to the concept of “creating space.”

One exercise we had to do involved tallying up how many free days we had taken in the last year. Why? Because they said we needed to learn to “create space” in our lives. And to create that space, we had to give ourselves a break and some time off.

Over time, the mental exercise of “creating space” allowed me to figure out what was important in my life, then outsource the rest.

Third, I started listening to productivity geniuses like Michael Hyatt. Highly productive entrepreneurs aren’t born that way, Hyatt says. They learn to become ultra-productive by mastering their environments.

According to Hyatt, constant interruptions and distractions are the #1 obstacle entrepreneurs face as they check off their to-do lists and work toward their goals.

And that is a shame, notes Hyatt. “Entrepreneurs and executives like us have too much value to contribute to our businesses and the people that matter most in our lives to let distractions drag us down,” he says on his website.

Just listening to experts like these taught me to “create space” and step away from my situation to a certain extent. From there I set out on a path to limit distractions and build a better workday.

Over time, I brought my office time from 40 hours/week to 8 hours, and with no impact to productivity and even greater earnings over time.

How did I do it? Here are the details:

#1: I hired strategically.

Although I already had a Director of Client Relations on staff, I added an Associate Advisor as well. This professional’s job was to “be me” when I wasn’t there – giving expert advice to our clients and providing the service they deserve.

This is where I feel a lot of small business owners fail. Scared no one could ever stand in their shoes, they refuse to outsource their most important work. But if you want to reduce your hours, this step is crucial.

It took a while to get everything set up. For a month, I had to work 60 hour weeks to teach him everything he needed to know. But once the hard work was done, I had a trusted and polished counterpart to lean on.

#2: We started documenting our processes.

Eventually, I learned I could make my life easier by streamlining processes I did over and over. A tool that I stumbled on, Sweet Process, helps you create processes for everything in your business.

Using this tool, we began creating processes for higher level tasks such as opening new accounts. From there, we created processes for making bank deposits and processing client contributions. Once we got all the higher level tasks squared away, we even created systems to take over the small tasks in our workday.

Creating all the processes takes some upfront work, but once the process is done and the person is trained, you never have to do it again. Even better, if you ever have to hire someone new or replace that person, your documented processes can serve as a training manual.

#3: I “created space” and scheduled time away.

Once I hired more people and created processes, I had to schedule time away to see if my new strategy could work. So, that’s exactly what I did – even though I had to force myself. At first, I would spend time hanging out at a coffee shop or work from home. This way, I could test my employee’s abilities without stepping away completely.

Once I felt more comfortable, I started taking Tuesdays off. Then I started added more “off days” to my calendar each week. Eventually, I was down to just 8 hours in the office each week, yet everything was still running smoothly. And yes, it felt great!

#4: We improved communication.

Prior to reducing my hours, the primary sources of communication in our office were email, text, and google chat. This worked fine for a while, but we eventually realized we were losing conversations and details this way.

Then we stumbled on a program called Slack. Slack allowed us to create channels that were specific to certain needs for our financial advisory firm, then create ongoing conversations we could search through for past details. Where we once lost important information and conversations all the time, Slack kept all of our correspondence in one place.

#5: We reviewed actions and looked for ways to improve.

Just like in the military, I created a process for weekly reviews in my office. We didn’t review each other’s work per se, but instead, how the week went in general. How was our communication? Did everything get done? Did anything fall through the cracks?

By highlighting any gaps in our communication and planning, we could find ways to improve. And that’s exactly what we did. Over time, we improved everything from our daily communication to results for our clients.

Final Thoughts

Where I once felt I could never step away from the office, I now work only around 8 hours each week. And as the final nail in the coffin and proof that everything I outlined here works, we have drastically improved our profitability as well. In fact, Alliance Wealth Management (my firm) is on pace to grow revenue by 31% this year.

With more time on my hands, I am now able to be a better father and husband. In addition, I created space and time to do something I have always wanted to do – which is to create a course geared towards financial advisors who want to become a force to be reckoned with in the online space.

And you know what else? My course, The Online Advisor Growth Formula, is on track to add $100,000 in revenue to my business this year. This fact underscores the idea that more work hours doesn’t always mean greater results – and sometimes, less is more.

None of this could have happened if I had never stepped away – and if I had never listened to the savvy productivity experts who forged this path for me.

If you’re tired of working more to accomplish less, make sure to listen to the experts that study productivity like it’s their job (because it is). You might feel “stuck” working too many hours now, but a few small changes can make a world of difference.

The post How I Decreased My Weekly Office Hours From 40-plus to Less Than 8 appeared first on Osiyo Marketing.

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[jessicagrounds]

How I Decreased My Weekly Office Hours From 40-plus to Less Than 8

Can a CEO Work 8 Hours a Week? Yes, and Here’s How I Did It…

You sit down at your desk ready to destroy your workday. You brew a pot of coffee, break out your calendar, and dive into your most important task. And then it happens. The phone rings, or a co-worker stops by to say “hey.” Maybe your boss swings by to ask about those TPS reports.

Whatever type of interruption you face, it’s annoying. And if you work in an office, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you’re sitting behind that desk and “clocked in,” everyone thinks it’s perfectly okay to engage you.

Unfortunately, these random engagements can absolutely kill your productivity. Not only can they knock you off task, but they can consume your mental energy for the day. While I didn’t notice how much time I was losing before I had kids, I notice it much more now that I have four. And yes, being a parent has severely limited my ability to endure small talk and mindless babble. Parents, you know what I’m talking about.

Twenty minutes in a hallway talking about last night’s game. A co-worker lamenting over workplace stuff. A leisurely lunch invite that turns into a two-hour affair against your will. This is the type of stuff that can waste your productivity and reduce your potential.

Creating Space and Forging a New Path

After a few years of enduring these wasted moments and opportunities, I was convinced something needed to change. I wanted to get out of the office more, but to accomplish nearly the same amount of work. More importantly, I wanted to stop wasting so much time when I could be home with my family or out enjoying life.

At first, I thought leaving the office more often would be an impossible feat. I mean, how could leave more often yet still accomplish the same level of work?

Sure, I was the CEO of my own wealth management firm, but that doesn’t mean I could come and go as I pleased. If I wasn’t in the office, what would my clients think? Was my team even capable of running everything in my absence? What if something went wrong?

It took me a while to realize I was consumed with limiting beliefs. Fortunately, a few amazing entrepreneurs and thought leaders that made me realize the error of my ways.

First, I read Tim Ferris’ book The 4-Hour Workweek and realized what was possible. Using the strategies in his book, I could reduce my time in the office significantly, right?

Second, I joined a coaching program by the name of Strategic Coach. During this program, they introduced me to the concept of “creating space.”

One exercise we had to do involved tallying up how many free days we had taken in the last year. Why? Because they said we needed to learn to “create space” in our lives. And to create that space, we had to give ourselves a break and some time off.

Over time, the mental exercise of “creating space” allowed me to figure out what was important in my life, then outsource the rest.

Third, I started listening to productivity geniuses like Michael Hyatt. Highly productive entrepreneurs aren’t born that way, Hyatt says. They learn to become ultra-productive by mastering their environments.

According to Hyatt, constant interruptions and distractions are the #1 obstacle entrepreneurs face as they check off their to-do lists and work toward their goals.

And that is a shame, notes Hyatt. “Entrepreneurs and executives like us have too much value to contribute to our businesses and the people that matter most in our lives to let distractions drag us down,” he says on his website.

Just listening to experts like these taught me to “create space” and step away from my situation to a certain extent. From there I set out on a path to limit distractions and build a better workday.

Over time, I brought my office time from 40 hours/week to 8 hours, and with no impact to productivity and even greater earnings over time.

How did I do it? Here are the details:

#1: I hired strategically.

Although I already had a Director of Client Relations on staff, I added an Associate Advisor as well. This professional’s job was to “be me” when I wasn’t there – giving expert advice to our clients and providing the service they deserve.

This is where I feel a lot of small business owners fail. Scared no one could ever stand in their shoes, they refuse to outsource their most important work. But if you want to reduce your hours, this step is crucial.

It took a while to get everything set up. For a month, I had to work 60 hour weeks to teach him everything he needed to know. But once the hard work was done, I had a trusted and polished counterpart to lean on.

#2: We started documenting our processes.

Eventually, I learned I could make my life easier by streamlining processes I did over and over. A tool that I stumbled on, Sweet Process, helps you create processes for everything in your business.

Using this tool, we began creating processes for higher level tasks such as opening new accounts. From there, we created processes for making bank deposits and processing client contributions. Once we got all the higher level tasks squared away, we even created systems to take over the small tasks in our workday.

Creating all the processes takes some upfront work, but once the process is done and the person is trained, you never have to do it again. Even better, if you ever have to hire someone new or replace that person, your documented processes can serve as a training manual.

#3: I “created space” and scheduled time away.

Once I hired more people and created processes, I had to schedule time away to see if my new strategy could work. So, that’s exactly what I did – even though I had to force myself. At first, I would spend time hanging out at a coffee shop or work from home. This way, I could test my employee’s abilities without stepping away completely.

Once I felt more comfortable, I started taking Tuesdays off. Then I started added more “off days” to my calendar each week. Eventually, I was down to just 8 hours in the office each week, yet everything was still running smoothly. And yes, it felt great!

#4: We improved communication.

Prior to reducing my hours, the primary sources of communication in our office were email, text, and google chat. This worked fine for a while, but we eventually realized we were losing conversations and details this way.

Then we stumbled on a program called Slack. Slack allowed us to create channels that were specific to certain needs for our financial advisory firm, then create ongoing conversations we could search through for past details. Where we once lost important information and conversations all the time, Slack kept all of our correspondence in one place.

#5: We reviewed actions and looked for ways to improve.

Just like in the military, I created a process for weekly reviews in my office. We didn’t review each other’s work per se, but instead, how the week went in general. How was our communication? Did everything get done? Did anything fall through the cracks?

By highlighting any gaps in our communication and planning, we could find ways to improve. And that’s exactly what we did. Over time, we improved everything from our daily communication to results for our clients.

Final Thoughts

Where I once felt I could never step away from the office, I now work only around 8 hours each week. And as the final nail in the coffin and proof that everything I outlined here works, we have drastically improved our profitability as well. In fact, Alliance Wealth Management (my firm) is on pace to grow revenue by 31% this year.

With more time on my hands, I am now able to be a better father and husband. In addition, I created space and time to do something I have always wanted to do – which is to create a course geared towards financial advisors who want to become a force to be reckoned with in the online space.

And you know what else? My course, The Online Advisor Growth Formula, is on track to add $100,000 in revenue to my business this year. This fact underscores the idea that more work hours doesn’t always mean greater results – and sometimes, less is more.

None of this could have happened if I had never stepped away – and if I had never listened to the savvy productivity experts who forged this path for me.

If you’re tired of working more to accomplish less, make sure to listen to the experts that study productivity like it’s their job (because it is). You might feel “stuck” working too many hours now, but a few small changes can make a world of difference.

The post How I Decreased My Weekly Office Hours From 40-plus to Less Than 8 appeared first on Osiyo Marketing.

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