#and maybe the idea applies differently in terms of when wanting to enter a relationship w someone

[simelune]

💭 hmmm venting in tags.

but im very curious what you guys think about the phrase/idea "you can't love someone else until you love yourself"???

[heeseungiez]

RESOLUTION 4) maybe get a boyfriend?

pairings! park sunghoon x fem!reader x park jay x sim jake x lee heeseung

synopsis! park sunghoon always preferred admiring you from afar. because to him, you were untouchable. as the daughter of his career’s biggest sponsor, he was scared that the smallest slight upon your person could make your father withdraw. but you were not the fragile pretty flower sunghoon thought you to be. it was only his luck that you ran right into his arms when you didn’t know what to do about the rest of his friends.

content warnings! smut (mdni! 18+), swearing, angst (i tried), fluff, unprotected sex, public sex, everyone is a loser, polyamory, ...

word count! ~15k

a/n! i've never been very good at writing endings... </3 but thank you guys so much for reading !!! i've seen everyone rooting for jake, but uhh... i've had a bit of a different idea for the endgame "relationship" from the very start

currently playing . . . good so bad by zerobaseone

masterlist

Good morning, Decelis!

The first term is almost over, and I’m really glad all the tea is piping hot to keep us warm through the winter. 

XO, Miss Decelis

It was time. 

The conversation the four boys feared had to be had. Especially when Heeseung kept trying to corner you in the school’s hallways while you pretended he didn’t exist, and Jake could not keep his hands off you with overly excessive PDA. Jay was your friend, but he kept looking for you in any room he entered, the single night you spent together still playing in his mind and haunting his dreams because that was all he got — he was nothing but a casual fuck to you, one and done, and it was still all his fault. 

Sunghoon had been observing his friends for a while. He could see all of them become more pathetic as time went on. But it was natural, when you began hanging out with them, and neither Heeseung or Jay cursed you out for it — instead, they sought your presence.

The thing was, Sunghoon had most of his information from Jake since Heeseung and Jay kept mostly quiet. But he knew basically everything, the filthy details beyond Miss Decelis gossip. You shared everything with Jake. Despite not being in a relationship, you were honest with him about all the things that went on in your life. So it was a known fact to them that you slept with Jay. That Heeseung was still trying. 

And Sunghoon wanted to laugh, remembering their silly promise that was now being stomped upon as if it never happened because his friends were idiots. 

Not to mention those dumb as hell rules they had around you when they were freshmen. Jesus Christ. 

They were idiots who were always obsessed with you.

But Sunghoon understood why. Way before he met them, he knew the charm you had was enchanting. Like a lady spider creating a thin yet durable web around them, meant to ensnare and never let go.

This was you.

Not a random girl the four of them met at parties and hooked up with (at different times, obviously). You had been in their lives for years.

Sunghoon had known you since he was twelve, probably. He didn’t remember the exact date when he met you, but you were both children back then. You were taller than him back then, too, if he remembered correctly. He was a figure skating prodigy, and you were the daughter who had to tag along because there was nobody to look after you on the weekends. 

You had an ability to make Sunghoon not feel alone whenever he saw you back then. You always played around with him while other kids were apprehensive. You also didn’t see him as competition, so being his friend was normal.

Then your father applied him to Decelis Academy for high school with a letter of recommendation, adding that he would cover any expenses necessary for Sunghoon’s studies while the school would have a national champion as its representative. Which was how you ended up introducing him to Heeseung, Jay and Jake. 

Even though you didn’t speak to them and they mainly ignored you, you made sure to bring Sunghoon to them on your tour. You greeted Jake amiably enough and then you introduced Sunghoon saying that you thought they’d get along well.

And they did. 

Especially Sunghoon and Jake. They clicked instantly. 

You were the force that connected them, and now you had enough power to pull them apart as well.

So they really needed to talk.

Well, not Sunghoon, not really anyway, but he was convinced it was the better thing for them all. 

So when Sunghoon finally got to the boys’ favourite hangout spot after figure skating practice, he clasped his hands together. 

“Y/N,” he said as he sat down, looking at each of his friends to begin the conversation as if it were a business meeting. No beating around the bush. Just a proper conversation between friends who liked the same girl. “We gotta stop avoiding the topic,” Sunghoon sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” Jay mumbled demurely after the mention of your name. 

Jake already knew what Sunghoon was thinking. The two practically shared one brain cell, so he simply glanced at the figure skater with a gaze that said: “Not you too,” but then he nodded because Sunghoon’s gaze replied with, “Are you really surprised?”

“I didn’t do anything though,” he added out loud, so Heeseung and Jay could understand at least a part of the mental conversation. “But the three of you are pissing me off.” He shrugged. 

“You like Y/N but you’re a dick.” He pointed at Heeseung with honesty that made the aforementioned boy flinch. “You like Y/N but you missed every chance you did have.” Sunghoon turned to Jay, earning a nasty glare. “And you’re all good but these two seem like even bigger losers,” he said to Jake, who grinned in response. 

“Shut up. Y/N’s just pretending she doesn’t want me,” Heeseung said confidently, and Jake snorted. 

“He’s lost it,” Jake claimed. “Heeseung being delusional is a rare occurrence. I need to savour this moment.”

“I know she wants me,” said Jay, and to this, Jake couldn’t entirely say no. You had slept with him once, you could do it again. Though you haven’t. 

And Jake realised that it really didn’t matter to him because, at the end of the day, you always came back to him. You could destroy him, tear his heart into pieces, and he’d still crawl on gravel just for you. That’s how bad it was for him, and he couldn’t fault his friends for feeling the same way.

They were one. Even if they were each vastly different. This group of friends was created through fate. Connected together, and likely with a string that began with Y and ended with OU.

If it wasn’t for you, Heeseung would never befriend Jay and Jake, no matter how awful his reasons were. And if it weren’t for you, Sunghoon would never be introduced to them. 

You put them together, and they had to stay that way.

Sunghoon bit his lower lip. Did you at least view him as a friend? He could never speak to you properly these days.

“Look,” Jake spoke up, shaking his head. In his mind, he was a selfish bastard who wanted to keep you all to himself, but these were his friends, and he loved them too. They were not going to fight each other over you. They’d rather avoid it, no matter how unhealthy the lack of confrontation might be. “As long as we don’t have a repeat of Bin from last year, I think we’re good.”

Bin was a girl they all liked enough to want to be with, and it seemed she liked them back. But when the gossip about them spread through school like wildfire, she could not handle that.

You were the centre of Miss Decelis for years. (Jay kept true to his word and told no one about your secret.) The last thing you would care about was people whispering about you being with all of them at once.

If you agreed to it. 

Sunghoon hadn’t even begun properly speaking to you yet. 

“Y/N is different,” Jay affirmed. And while each of the boys wanted to have you for themselves, they knew that unless you chose one of them specifically, all of them still had a chance.

A laugh bubbled up in Heeseung’s chest. “Have you guys ever noticed that the five of us are basically the centre of Miss Decelis? Even if she talks about others, we probably racked up the highest mention count.”

Jay ran a hand through his hair as the only one who knew why. He grinned with feigned nonchalance. “Our lives are clearly the most interesting among the other Decelis losers.”

“Mean,” Jake said and shook his head. “I didn’t have that many mentions until…” you, he wanted to say, but didn’t. The message was clear regardless. 

“‘Cause you’re boring.” Heeseung rolled his eyes playfully. “Y/N makes you more fun… which is not something I thought I’d ever say.”

“You’re down bad for her, buddy,” Sunghoon sighed and patted his friend’s shoulder sympathetically. But at least he got to be with you.

Jay didn’t touch another woman in weeks because of you, and Heeseung couldn’t stay still without having his dick wet since he couldn’t have you. Each of them dealt with their feelings differently, and Sunghoon just didn’t have any time because he’d been training for an upcoming national competition.

One that you would be at because you said so. You and your father would both be there to watch him perform. So he needed to be at his best. Not just to win, but to prove himself to your family once more, to make sure he wouldn’t be abandoned and thrown to the streets (which would not happen).

“Realistically, the centre has always been Y/N and the two of us,” Heeseung said, pointing at himself and Jay. “Do you think we ever did something to this girl? Who even is she? And why attack Y/N when… you know.”

“I guess it’s just some slighted petty bitch,” Jay replied as if he didn’t know the truth and shrugged. “Maybe it’s someone from our childhood that all three of us ignored back then.”

“But wouldn’t that also include me?” Jake added, a confused pout plastered on his lips. “Since I was always with you.”

Sunghoon nodded. He wasn’t as involved with the three guys when they were children, but Jake was right. If it was from childhood, even Jake would be included, right?

“Nah. You’re always too nice. To everyone. Especially Y/N. She was just pretending,” Jay reasoned. Because surely, the guys would believe that. “Maybe she was pissed at us and then accidentally took it out on some poor rando and now we got Miss Decelis on our ass.”

Heeseung chuckled. “I’d like to see that. Pissed Y/N has to look hot as fuck.”

“She’s more cute when she’s pissed,” Jay spoke absentmindedly, and the three guys glanced at him with question marks behind their eyes. “What? Haven’t any of you pissed her off yet? Just me?”

“I don’t talk to her much,” Sunghoon said plainly. 

“Do I look like I could piss Y/N off?” Jake questioned with a raised brow. 

“She just ignores me unless I literally beg for a restraining order. I wish she would at least get angry at me.” Heeseung scoffed, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’m actually surprised you don’t have one yet,” Sunghoon thought aloud, and Jake laughed, fist-bumping the figure skater. 

Heeseung glared at both, but it was light-hearted. “Whatever.”

Look. You were not supposed to tag along to the ice rink with your father. But it had been a while since you saw Sunghoon ice skate, and you always loved to appreciate him from a distance. He was the unreachable ice prince wherever he went, and that whole image fascinated you.

But his figure skating was beautiful. He would always get lost in his choreography and his movements. Every detail mattered, from head to toe. The smallest movements of his fingers were perfectly controlled, too.

You watched him in silence while your father spoke to his trainer on the side, both of them speaking about the plans for the upcoming national competition.

Sunghoon was already training, going through the same exact training session he must’ve for the past month or more. He barely had any time due to it all, and so you barely saw him outside of school — not that you two spoke anyway. But you liked catching glances of him. Hearing his voice every now and then.

He was your friend before you introduced him to the other guys. You knew that it would create a rift between you, but you also knew that he would be much better off with Jake than you. It was just something about the both of them that made you think they were destined to be friends. 

Now, this was the longest you got to be around Sunghoon. 

He didn’t notice you as you sat on the bleachers, smiling to yourself because you liked to watch him grinning from ear to ear as he did the thing he loved most — figure skating. He was lucky enough that it had the possibility of giving him a career that would secure his life for decades to come. 

Even then, when you two were children, Sunghoon mentioned he also considered getting into acting one day. Which would be amazing. Especially with a face like his, he could be as popular as Song Kang or Cha Eunwoo. 

When the set was over, you started clapping. Initially, you didn’t want to announce your presence to the boy, but you couldn’t help it. He was too good not to show your appreciation of his talent. And then there was that small, proud little smirk on his face when he was done, knowing he did well. 

He startled slightly, glancing toward you. Eyes widening even more, you knew he wondered why you were here, watching him. So you smiled and waved to beckon him over like you two were fourteen again and your father was just settling the Decelis scholarship with Sunghoon’s parents. 

“Y/N?” His full eyebrows arched as he gazed at you, and you grinned. 

“Hello, Hoonie,” you greeted sweetly. “It’s been a while.” You didn’t mean generally seeing him or talking to him. Watching him figure skate — the last time you had done that was a year ago. It was a competition (you went to every single one you could). 

“Yeah.” He nodded, confusion lacing his every movement even as he ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Is there a reason why—”

“I just wanted to see you,” you spoke frankly, shrugging. “Do you remember the last time we were here like this?”

“We were fourteen,” Sunghoon said, chuckling. “But yeah. I do.” How could he forget? It was the day you admitted you didn’t know how to ice skate, so Sunghoon decided to teach you a bit. And once it was all over, you somehow ended up talking about how another thing you’ve never done was kiss a boy.

If Sunghoon hadn’t been a coward, he could’ve kissed you then. But he didn’t. And sometimes he still thought about it and regretted that moment. 

“A lot has changed since then,” you said, reminiscing. Four years could be compared to a whole century when you’re a teenager. 

Sunghoon hummed in agreement. “Are you better at ice skating?” he asked. 

“Much.” You grinned proudly. 

And Sunghoon didn’t need to ask about the kissing. He already knew the answer to that. Sighing internally, he sometimes wished he could go back and be the first boy you ever kissed. But he couldn’t travel in time, so he was stuck here. The two of you at eighteen, barely speaking together. 

“Would you maybe… want to hang out after my practice is done?” he asked cautiously, expecting a rejection to protect himself from being hurt. “If you’re planning to stay here that long, of course.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “I am. I missed watching you figure skate. You’re constantly getting better,” you praised his skill. “We could go to that waffle place my dad used to take us to after your practice.”

“Yeah… that sounds good.” Sunghoon nodded, cursing himself for not being a better friend to you. But he had been scared of what could happen if he did. Maybe he’d have noticed there was something wrong in the years coming up to the moment that changed the trajectory of all their lives. 

Maybe if he noticed and put a stop to it himself, Heeseung and Jay would still dislike you, Jake would still fear talking to you, and Sunghoon would have you all to himself. But a string of completely different decisions led to the moment of you and him right here, right now, trying to build a bridge over the canyon you had created to help him find friends — better friends than you thought you were. 

Now it would be up to you both whether said bridge would be the most unstable, made out of thin ropes and wooden planks, or if you’d opt for one made of stone and cement.

You were with Jake when Sunghoon approached you the next time. The two of you were working on a project for English class, and Sunghoon found it as the perfect opportunity to use his inability to learn English as an excuse to spend time with you.

Which you didn’t mind in the slightest. You loved English, and you were happy to explain anything Sunghoon was struggling with while Jake nodded along with a spark in his eye as he gazed at you. There was a different kind of calmness to you when you could delve into a topic you were knowledgeable about.

“Future perfect tense is not that used, to be honest,” you said, to make Sunghoon feel better. “Nobody casually says sentences like I will have gone home by the time you finish practice.”

“I still want to be better,” Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just feel so lost whenever I travel abroad for figure skating competitions.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, glancing at Jake to silently ask whether Sunghoon ever shared this information with him. Jake’s shake of his head was small. 

“I can tutor you, Hoon,” you said with a soft smile. Because to you, Sunghoon was still your friend, even if you barely spoke. “I have less extracurriculars than Jake does, so I have the time. I don’t mind it.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”

“No, of course not. I’m offering because I don’t want to do it,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Just say if you want me to tutor you or not. It’s on you. We can meet almost whenever you have free time.”

Jake nudged Sunghoon’s shoulder with a supportive grin. “C’mon, you need it, bro.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure. We can do it. I just have a lot of—”

“Training, I know.” You nodded, biting your lip. “But we’ll figure something out, it’s fine. I can just… pick you up after your practices or something.”

Good morning, Decelis!

It seems our ice prince is not so icy after all. He’s been caught laughing with the one and only Y/N as they exited the ice rink yesterday.

Are you all thinking what I’m thinking?

XO, Miss Decelis

“Go on a date with me.”

You startled, looking up at the boy who just approached you in the corridor. You were just trying to get your textbooks, but he closed your locker right in front of your face to get your attention, staring at you pleadingly with his hands hidden in his pockets.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. “What are you talking about?”

“Go on a date with me,” he repeated slowly, ready to spell it out for you.

You laughed. “Jay–”

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said, running a hand through his perfectly styled dark hair. Today, it was slightly falling on his forehead, and he had to constantly push the hair out of his eyes. “Go on a date with me. Please.”

“I don’t really have time—”

“Sunghoon will survive if you miss one tutoring session, trust me.” Because of course, Jay already knew your schedule — hopefully from Sunghoon. “Please,” he kept begging, staring at you as if his whole life depended on you saying yes. And a part of you wanted to say yes, that part of you that used to have a crush on him, but you two just made peace and became friends.

“This is ridiculous, Jay,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t actually like me. What happened last time was just— I don’t know, but you don’t want me, and I’m doing fine with Ja—”

“Don’t say that,” Jay cut you off. “Don’t say his name when I’m trying to ask you out. Besides, you don’t know how I feel, so why do you keep assuming?” He ran a hand through his hair again, clenching his jaw. You watched him in confusion as frustration took over his features because he needed you to believe him.

“You are right. I don’t like you. How I feel about you is something way beyond that, and I hate the fact that I can’t look at you without thinking of that time, and that I keep replaying you saying that you used to like me in my head. So just do this one thing for me, please, because I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”

Rendered speechless by Jay’s confession, you had a hard time coming up with a proper response. Park Jay had feelings for you?

“I swear to God, Y/N, I am going to drop on my knees and—”

“No, Jay, stop. I will go with you,” you said finally, to stop him from making you feel even worse (read: to stop him from making your heart beat loudly in your ears). You bit the inside of your cheek, your stomach tight with knots. “I will go with you,” you repeated, looking into Jay’s eyes.

“Really?” The hope in his voice made your body feel warm, and you nodded to further affirm your decision. You were going on a date with Park Jay.

“But after Sunghoon’s competition,” you said decidedly, pursing your lips. Jay was right. Sunghoon could miss one tutoring session, but you’d rather if he didn’t. After the competition, he’d have more time, and that way, you could both tutor Sunghoon and then go on a date with Jay.

Ultimately, Sunghoon’s tutoring sessions were just an excuse.

He knew.

You and Sunghoon only met up twice a week, so it was obvious that you used him as an excuse to not go on that date with Jay and postpone it for some time. He didn’t mind it, but he kind of enjoyed being the guy in the middle. Or maybe it was just the fact that you wanted to spend time with him, and not Jay.

He liked watching you as you scrunched your nose and furrowed your brows while staring at a textbook while trying to figure out the best and simplest way to explain something to him. He liked the way a tiny smile graced your lips once you came up with something and looked at Sunghoon with your big eyes. He liked the way you moved closer, leaned into him, and pointed at his notebook to start your explanation.

Maybe he should be listening to you as you tried to show him the ropes of creating sentences in passive voice and using them, but if he was completely honest, it went in through one ear, and out through the other. All he could do was stare at you and your side-profile and be in disbelief over how pretty you were.

He understood what Jake saw in you a bit too well. Sunghoon would want to kiss the earth you walked on, too, if he was in Jake’s position. But you didn’t seem interested in Sunghoon the way he wanted you to. Your smiles were always friendly, your gaze kind, but you did not look at him the way you regarded Jake. Not even the way you looked at Jay.

Sunghoon, to you, was just Sunghoon. The kid your father was sponsoring. And he hated it. Why did you, of all people, have to be immune to him? 

“Are you spacing out again?” you asked softly. Your eyes were glued to Sunghoon’s face and he blankly stared ahead, though at first his attention was purely on you.

Gulping, Sunghoon shook his head. “Sorry. I just… can’t seem to focus today,” he made a half-assed apology, but you smiled and let him be. Your mind already had a proper excuse made up for him anyway. 

“The competition is pretty close, huh? Must be nerve-racking,” you said, placing your hand over his. The squeeze was purely sympathetic, it meant nothing more — at least Sunghoon thought so — and when you didn’t let go, it momentarily short-circuited his brain. “You’ll do great, Hoon. I know you will. And I’ll be there with you the whole time as well.”

Sunghoon stared at you. He wished he could tell you how much he liked you, but he was afraid. He always had been afraid. At first his reasons were rather selfish because he didn’t want to lose your father’s support if things didn’t work out between you, but now… Now he feared your rejection even more than anything else in the world. 

Not even the idea of losing the upcoming competition scared him as much.

“Thanks.” Sunghoon slightly pulled away from you for his own sanity, but you noticed the movement and a small frown graced your lips. Perhaps he even saw a flicker of hurt in your eyes, too.

“Okay, then,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’m sure you want to focus on your training more than English, so we can end today’s session early.”

Sunghoon blinked at you. He had hurt you without realising it, and now he didn’t know how to fix this without babbling out the thoughts that truly went through his head. He could do nothing as you stood up from your seat, packing your bag to leave the library.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hoon.”

Just like that, you left. 

And Sunghoon hadn’t said a word to stop you.

An exasperated sigh left his lips once you were gone. He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair.

Why was it so hard for him to speak whenever you were around?

Sunghoon’s competition was happening a week after the new year. Nothing in between mattered much. The tutoring sessions came to a halt with the Christmas break, but Sunghoon and his family were still invited to the huge Christmas party that your parents organised. Obviously, the Lees had to show up, and so did Jake and Jay’s families. Nothing much happened except for Heeseung trying to talk to you while Jeonghyeon actively did everything in his power to keep his cousin away from you.

Then it was the Parks, Jay’s family, who organised a large New Year’s party where you spent the day surrounded by all four guys as they desperately fought for your attention. It was Heeseung who stole your New Year’s kiss as well, but you didn’t bother fighting him since Jeonghyeon, Jay and Jake’s glares were scathing enough.

So now you sat inside the packed stadium filled with figure skating fans and many girls from Decelis Academy as they held huge pickets and flags with Sunghoon’s face plastered on them as if he were an idol, cheering for him. You had to bite back your smile as you watched Sunghoon cringe the moment he stepped on the ice and the girls began squealing. 

You watched him prepare, doing practice laps and some figures as he tested himself on the ice. It took a few minutes for him to finally settle in the centre, eyes fixating on you in his starting position.

He whispered, “Wish me luck,” and winked at you, which could’ve gone unnoticed had you not been captivated by him the whole time. Gulping, you licked your lips and nodded.

You recognised the song that started playing from the many practices you had visited simply because you wanted to. Because you could. A soft melody of a song he chose, called Moonstruck. His figure was impeccable.

The moment he started moving, the whole stadium silenced. There was nothing else but Park Sunghoon and the rink that he danced on, every movement graceful and meticulous from his toes to his fingers. Every detail mattered even if he was merely spreading his arms. His body followed the rhythm, and you understood what your father had seen in him all those years ago when he chose to take the small boy under his wing and help him become better at figure skating.

The applause that followed was deafening. But you couldn’t bring yourself to move as you saw him bow after the song ended. Even as he made his way toward his mother from the ice. Even as he, eventually, approached you and your father to head toward the chairs with the other contestants, waiting for his score.

It was high. Highest of the day so far, but there were still some contestants left, so it couldn’t be definitively said that Sunghoon won.

You chewed on your lip as you watched him, nervosity coursing through your veins. Sunghoon deserved to be first place. Even your father seemed to think so with the huge grin on his lips as he regarded Sunghoon with immense pride. 

And, an hour later, you were indeed running to him to throw your arms around his shoulders for winning gold. Sunghoon was smiling widely. His parents were elated. So was your father. The success meant a huge door had opened for Park Sunghoon, the figure skating prodigy. But you only cared about him.

Jumping into his arms, you tightly wrapped your arms around his neck. “Congratulations, Hoon! You did it! You’re a national champion,” you spoke into his shoulders while the boy held onto your waist, keeping your body in the air. 

“I knew you could do it.” You pulled away from him with a smile, still holding onto his arms. And Sunghoon stared at you, in the intense kind of way that you never saw him do before. “Hoon?” you asked, worrying if he spaces out again.

“It’s because of you.” He slapped away your concern with a lopsided grin, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wanted to do my best for you,” he mumbled softly, and you tilted your head to the side.

“Why would you—”

But Sunghoon cupped both your cheeks by then, planting his lips on yours. A collective gasp went through the crowd within the stadium as they saw you. Not just on the podium, but also on the huge screen as there had been a camera on Sunghoon the whole time.

“I really, really like you, Y/N,” he said after he pulled away, and your eyes widened. Everything was captured on camera. 

You couldn’t exactly say you didn’t like him back, though. It would be a lie to say that Sunghoon didn’t have an ability to make your heart flutter. You liked him a lot. But you also liked Jake… and Jay wanted to take you on a date. And Heeseung — well, you hated how often you tended to think about him, too.

“I—”

“Erm.” You recognised your father’s voice from behind. Turning to face him, your cheeks burned. Sunghoon didn’t just kiss you in front of a whole stadium — he kissed you in front of your father. 

Fuck.

His arms were crossed, and you stepped in front of Sunghoon just in case your father were to berate him. 

A smile spread across his lips instead, though.

“I already considered you a part of the family, Sunghoon, but this is a truly pleasant surprise,” he said, grinning at you and the figure skater. “Although I expect Jay’s and Jake’s parents will be very disappointed to know. They were rooting for their sons.”

You glanced at Sunghoon but he didn’t bat an eye. Instead, he smiled even brighter, his eyes and nose scrunching in the most adorable way possible. 

“So you don’t… disapprove of me dating?” you asked your father, raising a brow.

The man chuckled and shook his head. “Why would I, Y/N? Your mother and I just want you to be happy, and we know that Sunghoon is a good boy. I support it,” he said, patting the top of your head affectionately. 

“You’re serious?”

“Very,” your father agreed. “Now come, your boyfriend has to do some interviews and get some photos before we all leave to celebrate the victory and the amazing news.”

“O-okay,” you stuttered, your eyes latching onto Sunghoon. He smiled and took your hand in his. 

“Well, girlfriend, will you follow me?” he said rather jokingly, but to everyone around you, that seemed to be the new reality.

Park Sunghoon was now proclaimed your official boyfriend. 

Good morning, Decelis!

Surprise, surprise! It’s our princess and the ice prince, after all. A fitting pair, I’d say. I wonder what happened during the winter holidays?

XO, Miss Decelis

“Do you ever take a break?” Jay approached you, glancing between you and his phone. “Do you still need to keep this up?”

You shrugged in response, already aware of what he was talking about. “I like it. There’s just something about messing with other people’s business that’s quite freeing,” you said, grinning.

Jay rolled his eyes. “And yet you keep writing about our business.”

“Is it really that bad if I haven’t said anything negative?” You pursed your lips, tilting your head to the side with your eyes fixed on Jay. “I haven’t badmouthed you in ages.”

The pout your lips formed made Jay glare at you light-heartedly, and you giggled. 

“Good. ‘Cause this would be hella awkward if you did.” Jay pointed at himself and you. Because, yeah, he was taking you out on a date. Despite your ‘relationship’ with Sunghoon. 

The guys were doing whatever they wanted. So were you. And between the five of you, your description of a relationship status was a venn diagram with you in the middle. 

You pushed Jay’s chest with a roll of your eyes. “So, where are you taking me?” you asked, and the boy grinned.

“Somewhere you’ll like,” he said before examining your fit. It was casual, but not too casual to make him assume that you didn’t care. You wore a long-sleeved white dress speckled with blue flowers, and a black winter coat to keep you warm in the freezing weather. 

He, as usual, wore loose black jeans, a black shirt and coat, looking like the heir of a million dollar company — which he was. His cologne was different today, but you liked it regardless. Perhaps Killian? 

When you made your way to his car, he opened the door for you before getting in himself. You grinned at his gentlemanly antics, but he said nothing — as if it was completely normal and expected of everyone. Perhaps to him, it was.

Nothing was said between either of you when Jay drove. Music played softly from the radio, but neither of you dared to break the silence. Between the two of you, it wasn’t necessary to speak. In that way, he was similar to Sunghoon (and occasionally Jake, but Jake usually loved chatting with you about random things).

Jay spoke up only when you were almost at your destination.

“So, a little background information,” he said with a chuckle, the car nearing a parking lot. “You know how my house is eery and lonely whenever it’s just me there?” 

You scoffed. “How could I forget?”

“Well.” Jay glanced at you, a corner of his lips lifting in a soft smile. “My parents agreed to let me get a pet. And I was thinking of getting a cat.”

“What?” You turned to face him, but Jay was already parking in front of an animal shelter, grinning. “You want to adopt a cat?”

“Yep.” Jay nodded. “And I want you to choose which one.”

“Jay…” This was a pet that would be with him for as long as it lived, and you weren’t sure if you making the choice of which cat it should be was a smart decision. The cat should like him first. 

“I trust you. Besides, if it’s a cat that likes you, then I’m most definitely going to like that cat.” He grinned. “Because it’ll have great taste.”

“Jay.” Your cheeks heated up at the comment, shaking your head.

“You know that’s also why I disliked you so much before?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he reminisced of his younger self. “Because you were so stupidly pretty and my parents were obsessed with you and everything about you. It just… annoyed me.” He parked the car, running a hand through his hair as he turned the ignition off. “And now that you’re not pretending and are finally yourself, it makes you even more attractive.”

You giggled. You didn’t know what took over you in that moment, but you giggled, hearing Jay call you attractive. “Stop.” You tried to lightly slap Jay’s shoulder, but he caught your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“I’m serious, Y/N. So yes, I want your help choosing the cat that will live in my home because hopefully it will make you want to come over more often.”

There was that sly smirk you would expect from Park Jay, and you rolled your eyes. “What makes you so sure I even like cats?”

“Everything about you screams cat lover, darling. Don’t play dumb.” Jay stared into your eyes, and you couldn’t look away as his dark gaze pierced through you. “C’mon, let’s go get a cat,” he said with a smile. 

Jay opened the door of the car for you, and then he held open the door inside the animal shelter as well. The smell of animals hit your senses like a truck, but not necessarily in a bad way. You just weren’t used to this many animals in one place. 

Seeing them in their enclosures, you had the urge to adopt every single pet in the shelter, but you couldn’t do that. Instead, you glanced at Jay, who pointed toward the cats. Not many words were exchanged between the two of you as you walked, each of you examining the cats with soft smiles on your faces. 

Though there was one in particular that caught your attention. A black cat continued staring at you as you moved across the shelter, and you couldn’t help but feel a pull toward her. 

A black cat would be such a perfect choice for Jay. You knew it. 

Tapping his shoulder, you grinned and pointed toward the enclosure. “I like that one,” you said, immediately going to her. 

You dared to stretch out your hand for the cat, waiting for a reaction. She stretched her body and walked toward your hand with a low meow before leaning into your hand, begging you to pet her. 

An even bigger smile broke out on your lips. “Hello, little one,” you whispered, scratching her ears. “How long have you been here?” you asked. 

“Three months,” Jay responded from behind you, reading a sign by the enclosure. “Her name is Byeori.”

The cat looked at Jay when she heard her name spoken out loud, and she meowed again, this time to get Jay’s attention to be on her. 

He joined your side to try and befriend the cat himself, and she did not fight him in the slightest. As if sensing what kind of person Jay was, the cat let him pet her, purring. 

“She has good taste,” Jay chuckled, glancing at you. “I think she chose you first.”

You bumped his shoulder with yours, giggling. “So we’re taking her home, right?”

“To my home, yes, I think we are.” Jay nodded. 

Heeseung was desperate. 

He didn’t know why he stood in front of the door to your home all on his own.

You seemed happy with whatever you had with Jay, Jake and Sunghoon. But he wanted to be a part of it. If there was one thing Heeseung hated, it was being left out. He understood how he must’ve made you feel in the past now. 

It was a horrendous feeling. One that clawed on your insides, coating your skin and never quite letting go. You had all of his friends now wrapped around your fingers and he… he also couldn’t stop thinking about you.

When you opened the door, you wore sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Glasses loosely hung on your nose, and your hair was tied in a simple knot to keep your hair out of your eyes. 

This was the version of you he was familiar with. A remainder of the old you that would never disappear. Somehow, Heeseung appreciated it even more than the new you. 

“What?”

“Is anyone—”

“No, my parents are at work, why—”

“Okay.” Heeseung slipped inside past you, closing the door behind himself. Your eyebrow rose as you eyed him. 

“Heeseung, what—”

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

Your mouth practically dropped to the ground the second he fell to his knees with his head hung low, repeating the words: “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Hee—”

“I’m sorry for treating you like the biggest asshole known to man when we were younger.” Heeseung didn’t let you interrupt, looking up at you through those big Bambi eyes of his. “I’m sorry for making you feel unwanted, and for leaving you out of everything I could because I was a stupid kid. I’m really sorry.”

“Heeseung, what are you doing?”

“I want us to start over. To be better.” And he genuinely meant every word. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much all of a sudden, but he wanted you to be in his life as more than just the girl that ignores him whenever you’re in the same room. He had to make sure you would understand how truly deeply sorry he was and how much he wanted to start over. 

You stared at him. Blinking a few times, you weren’t sure how to react at first. This was what you had wanted for a good part of your life. Heeseung wanting to be your friend. You did not expect him to beg for it on his knees, but it did bring you a twisted sense of satisfaction. 

Besides the confusion, a lopsided grin spread across your lips. There was a strange allure to this Heeseung. Desperate just to be near you, and a part of you wanted to take advantage of it. But could you do it? What would that mean for you and Jake? Or Sunghoon? Or even Jay…

“Get up, Heeseung,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “Get up before I do something really stupid, please.”

Those big eyes that stared at you through long lashes made your expression soften. But Heeseung heeded your command and stood up, towering over you once more. “Y/N—”

“We can start over,” you replied with a nod. “I can forgive you, I think. Over time.”

Sighing in relief, Heeseung nodded. “That’s all I need.”

Good morning, Decelis!

Did we all just collectively hallucinate, or did Y/N truly enter the school with all four of the Decelis heartthrobs by her side?

XO, Miss Decelis

“Jake— ah,” you moaned when he nipped at an especially sensitive spot on your neck. He found the time to come to the library with you before your tutoring session with Sunghoon, and you couldn’t deny him.

His hands were on your hips, pressing you against the wall of the library firmly, keeping you in place as his mouth roamed your skin. Your uniform’s blazer was already on the ground, and Jake let go of your hips just to undo the buttons of your shirt. 

“I missed you,” he murmured, kissing the soft skin of your breasts where they were not covered by a bra. 

He felt your chuckle vibrate through your chest. “Jakey, we haven’t seen each other for two hours,” you said. 

Instead of responding, he hummed, going back up to capture your lips with his. There was a sort of desperation in the way he sucked on your lower lip before you allowed him full access to your mouth. Your hands tangled in his soft locks, and you pressed your body closer to his, to feel the bulge in his crotch on your stomach.

“I just need you,” Jake spoke against your lips, and the heat that spread through your body made you nearly combust. “You mean so much to me, Y/N. You have no idea.”

“And you mean a lot to me, too, Jake.” You pulled away from him for a bit, to look into his eyes. To let him know how serious you were. Jake had always been good to you, no matter your situation. And you cared for him deeply.

A tiny smile tugged at his lips as his eyes explored yours. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but knowing that you started talking to Heeseung made him strangely anxious. He liked to think he wasn’t jealous, but out of all the guys, Heeseung had always been the hardest to compete with. “You will always come back to me, right? No matter what happens?” 

You nodded. “No matter what happens,” you agreed at the moment. But later, when you would think about this, it would scare you. Terrify you, in fact. Because you weren’t ready to think about what it meant. 

Jake kissed you again, letting your hands do the work and unbuckle his belt. His trousers were off within seconds, and his hands roamed down your body to the wet panties underneath your skirt, grinning into the kiss.

It surprised you when Jake suddenly grabbed you by the thighs, lifting you from the ground, your back pressed against the wall as the only support for your body other than Jake. But he lined you up perfectly with his cock, letting you slowly take him in as his arms strained to keep you from falling. 

His groan was music to your ears, the sensation of his length filling you up slowly rendering you silent, though you were used to his rougher ways by now, too.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so perfect,” Jake let you wrap your legs around his hips, his hands moving to your ass to have a proper grip on your body before he started moving.

“Jake, please,” you begged for him to do something now that he was fully inside you. “I need you.”

Jake buried his head into the crook of your neck. “I need you more,” he replied before pulling out and thrusting even deeper inside you as if it was possible. 

You felt him in your stomach, in every bit of your body and in the marrow of your bones. Jake moved leisurely, but each thrust was powerful enough you felt like you would erupt any second. 

“Jake, oh, fuck.” You bit your lip to be quieter, barely remembering that you two were still inside the public library, having sex in the section with prehistoric textbooks that nobody ever used. “It’s— so much.”

“You can take it,” he huffed out, focusing more on pleasuring you than anything else. “You’ve taken more.”

Yes, you have. But you were not inside a library before and didn’t need to be able to walk out of there. Nor did you need to get through a tutoring session afterwards. 

The next powerful thrust made your head spin, pleasure tinged with pain as it seemed that Jake would not stop any time soon. 

Your body went limp in his arms. “Jake. Jake. Jake,” you repeated his name, unable to finish the sentence you wanted to say. 

You cummed around his cock, and he wasn’t far away, capturing your lips again to contain the moans that would otherwise leave his mouth as his semen filled you up. (You started taking birth control after Jake’s birthday.)

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he mumbled in a daze, and part of you wasn’t sure if you heard him correctly. But, to make it worse, he repeated the words: “I love you.”

You weren’t ready to hear that yet. 

When Jake let go of you, you stared at him with your eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. “Jake, you don’t know what you’re saying,” you claimed because people tend to say stupid things after sex, right? He wasn’t thinking clearly.

“That’s just how I feel about you, Y/N.” Jake shook his head, attempting to wrap his arms around you, but you didn’t let him, stepping back. 

The single action made Jake’s movements stutter. His eyes searched yours with hurt written all over them, and you bit your lip. Your heart raced in your chest almost as fast as your thoughts.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to be honest with you,” said Jake in an attempt to salvage the situation, but it was too late. You were panicking. You cared about Jake, but did you love him? You couldn’t say. 

And maybe it was the worst possible thing to do after a person confesses their love to you… but you ran. You fled as fast as you could, completely forgetting that you had a tutoring session afterward, or anything else whatsoever. 

Sim Jake loved you.

But you were a fucking coward. 

You haven’t been to school in days, claiming a mysterious illness that left you bedridden. Sunghoon had tried to ask Jake if he knew anything of your whereabouts as you seemingly didn’t reply to anyone. He tried asking Heeseung and Jay after he grew truly desperate, but to no avail. You weren’t responding to them, and Jake generally refused speaking about you.

Sunghoon didn’t know what happened between the two of you, but it had to be serious if Jake refused to tell him about it. You had been ignoring Sunghoon since the one tutoring session you stood him up on and never texted him back after he asked if you were okay. 

All your friends claimed you were still alive, just not feeling well. Jeonghyeon and Ning were the only direct contacts anybody had to you.

Heeseung tried knocking on your door, but you never responded yourself. Usually, it was your parents, and they always had an apologetic kind of look that said you refused to see him. But, to be fair, apparently, Jeonghyeon hadn’t seen you in person in days either. 

Despite knowing all this, Sunghoon wanted to try his luck. He knew that skipping school as a scholarship kid was the worst thing he could possibly do, but he needed to make sure you were okay. Everyone thought you were his girlfriend, and him knowing nothing of how you were doing drove him nuts. 

The staff at the hotel let him pass easily, already familiar with him as both your father’s ward and Heeseung’s best friend. Sunghoon greeted them all with a polite bow and smile, rushing toward the elevators so they wouldn’t question why he wasn’t at school. 

Getting to your floor came to Sunghoon automatically as he had been there countless times as a child, still remembering his excitement whenever his parents agreed to let him play with you while they were talking to your father. Those were probably his happiest moments as a child figure skater. Even if it was just the two of you playing hide and seek around the house. 

He didn’t expect much when he rang the bell. Why, of all the people that came to visit you, would you open the door for him?

You did, though. In an oversized T-shirt and shorts, thick glasses hanging on the tip of your nose. The look on your face told him you were contemplating slamming the door in his face, so Sunghoon strategically put his foot on the doorstep, knowing you would never try to hurt him, especially to just close a door. 

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” you echoed. “Why aren’t you at school, Hoon?”

“I had to make sure you’re okay.” Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, gazing at you. There was a sadness that laced your voice, and he noticed your eyes were red from crying. But judging by the movie playing in the background, Twentieth Century Girl, he guessed that was why.

You pressed your lips together and smiled. “I’m fine,” you sighed. “I’m just not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

You frowned. “Do you want to come inside?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Sunghoon nodded, slipping inside the hallway with your approval. Wordlessly, you led Sunghoon to the living room space, where the movie played on a large screen. 

You had a whole set up of pillows and blankets on the sofa, so you sat down on the ground in front of it, patting the spot next to you.

When Sunghoon sat down, silence engulfed the both of you. You didn’t say anything and neither did he. You just watched the movie together as your head dropped to his shoulder, more tears making their way to your eyes despite the scenes being seemingly happy.

When you spoke up, Sunghoon didn’t know how to react at first. “You don’t really like me, right?” you said.

Sunghoon turned to face you, baffled by the question. “What do you mean?” He tilted his head to the side, in disbelief over the question. “Of course, I like you. I always have.”

“But not… not like that.” You pointed at the movie as if it was hard for you to explain in words.

“Yes, like that,” Sunghoon said firmly, shaking his head. He dared taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers. “Since we were kids, Y/N. I was just… scared. Still am. What I did after I won the competition… I just wanted to be brave for once.”

You looked down at your legs, hugging your knees to your chest. “But—”

“I’m sorry for not showing you earlier. But it’s always been you. Even for Jake, I think.” Sunghoon shook his head and chuckled. “It’s actually what we initially bonded over, you know? Just… you.”

“Please, don’t.” You averted your gaze. 

Sunghoon squeezed your hand, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s such a weird thing for me to say but… we all like you. In our own ways, Y/N. Jake, me, Heeseung, Jay. In the end, it’s on you if you want any of us or all of us, really, but we’ll be here for you. No matter what happens.”

The phrase, no matter what happens, was what made you truly cry. Sunghoon had no clue what he did, but regardless, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, letting you cry your heart out onto his shirt. He held you tightly, not letting go. He never wanted to let you go.

You had to go to school eventually.

With Jeonghyeon, Ning and Hanbin right by your side, you did everything you could to catch up on classes you’d missed, avoiding Jake as much as you could. 

You missed him, but you weren’t quite sure how to deal with the knowledge of his feelings toward you. Could you accept it? Could there be something more? How did anyone even know if they were in love?

Attraction was one thing, but love…

Still, Jake was everywhere you went. Not just him, though. Sunghoon, Heeseung and Jay were with him, too. And it was difficult to ignore the stares all four boys gave you whenever you were in the same room.

“I think I fucked up,” you said to your friends during lunch, shaking your head. Realistically, you knew you fucked up. There was no other way of calling it. Because you slept with Jake, Jay, almost with Heeseung, and Sunghoon liked you. 

It’s not a situation the younger you would ever imagine yourself in, but your resolution not to care about much has clearly gone awry. Maybe you should’ve cared. 

“Yeah. I think telling Heeseung you could forgive him was a mistake, too,” Jeonghyeon replied automatically.

“Not what she meant,” said Ning knowingly, glancing toward the table with the four Decelis heartthrobs. “They all look like kicked puppies. It’s kinda sad.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be if you and all of your best friends liked the same girl?” Hanbin asked with a raised brow. “And she’s not doing anything much about it either.” He gave you a pointed look.

You sighed, playing with the ends of your hair. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Do you remember Bin from last year?” Ning asked, her eyes widening slightly when she remembered that you were not at Decelis during the time. 

You did remember, however. As Miss Decelis, you remembered everything. You attacked the guys quite a bit during the time since all you had was anger — not even toward them. But from what you understood, it was Bin who broke off everything as she didn’t like the way the other Decelis students treated her. 

“I read Miss Decelis,” you claimed falsely, a tense smile plastered on your lips. 

“Right. Who didn’t.” Ning nodded, pursing her lips. “But this is kinda what they do, no? They get obsessed with one girl and then she’s the one who suffers. I think you should just… try to get out of that while you can.”

“But… they’re my friends,” you said quietly, incapable of letting it go. The younger you had always wanted to be able to say that. To call the four of them your friends. And now that it was true, how could you just throw it away?

“That you fucked.”

“Please, don’t say that,” Hanbin said, face contorted in disgust. “We don’t need to acknowledge it so openly.”

“I actually didn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah. Only Jake and Jay, actually, but it doesn’t change much. Remember that half the country thinks you’re dating Sunghoon and that the whole school has seen you with Heeseung?”

“Why do we have to talk about this again?” Jeonghyeon’s brow rose, his nose scrunched. 

“Because I don’t know what to do,” you said. 

“And we’re supposed to help you how?”

“By shutting up.” Ning glared at Jeonghyeon. “Y/N, babe, you’re thinking too much,” she said, grabbing your hands in hers. “Just do what feels right in your heart.”

You blinked at her, face blank. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m trying to be romantic here. You’re ruining it.”

“Well, that’s your first mistake.” Hanbin shook his head. “Trying to get Y/N to be a romantic.”

“Fine.” Ning rolled her eyes. “Who do you like spending time with the most? Like, who makes you feel giddy and excited to be with them, you know?”

Jake. That was the first answer that came to your mind. He always knew how to make you laugh. He made you feel special, and his teamwork was incomparable. But the more you thought about it, you realised you also loved to have Sunghoon by your side. He understood you so well. And Jay made you feel safe in a way you had never experienced before. He was always making sure that you would never get hurt, even if it was the smallest thing known to man, like stubbing your toe. Heeseung managed to make everything feel more exciting. He could make your heart race like no other. 

“They all do,” you said, “in their own ways.”

Ning was speechless. Following your gaze toward the four boys that were conversing with one another, she let out a huff. “Then I can’t help you, girl. You need to talk to them yourself.”

“They’re all losers anyway.” Jeonghyeon rolled his eyes. 

Hanbin chuckled, nudging the boy with his shoulder. “And you’re better how?”

“Well, first of all—” and Jeonghyeon continued to name all the reasons he considered himself better than his slightly older cousin because in reality, he cared for Heeseung as a brother. Sometimes, he just really could not stand him and how idiotic he could be. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” Sunghoon asked for the millionth time today as the two of you sat in your bedroom with English textbooks spread over your floor. For reasons, you were still avoiding staying in the library for too long.

“Yes, Hoon, it’s okay. My parents aren’t gonna be home until later, so nobody cares. Calm down,” you replied for the third time (without exaggeration) within the span of fifteen minutes. “Unless you’re planning something other than studying, it’s totally fine.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not—” he bit his lip, flustered by the remark. “Just because I said I like you— that’s not what— Y/N…”

“I’m joking, Sunghoon,” you said, a lopsided grin decorating your lips. “You can only get a kiss if you can get this exercise correctly.”

“Huh?” Sunghoon blinked swiftly and several times, gaping at you. 

Teasing him was your new favourite activity. He was a confident fraud at school, you concluded, because the boy you knew was nothing like the Park Sunghoon from Decelis Academy that made it onto Miss Decelis many times before.

You started coming to peace with the fact that you truly liked each of the boys for different reasons. But you were most drawn toward Sunghoon and Jake. The two boys were the same in so many ways that they made you feel similar but different. And being with Sunghoon made missing Jake somewhat easier. 

“Here.” You pointed at the empty worksheet in front of him. “If you can correctly fill it, you get one kiss.”

“Are you serious?”

You nodded. And, as proof, you leaned in to give Sunghoon the lightest peck on his lips. “Very serious.”

“I’m a genius,” he said, in English, grabbing the worksheet with newfound fervour that made you laugh.

Sunghoon grinned at you, a genuine toothy smile that was rare from him, and then he put all his focus on the work you gave him. His brows furrowed, and he bit his bottom lip in thought. 

It took him ten minutes to fill every sentence, but he kept looking at you to gauge whether you approved of his answer or not. You could not bring yourself to scold him and make the judgement for himself. Especially because he did fill everything correctly.

Sunghoon chewed on his lip, glancing at you expectantly while pushing the finished worksheet toward you. The grin that made its way onto your face couldn’t be contained, merely because you were proud of his progress. 

“You really are a genius,” you said. 

“So… my kiss?” Sunghoon spoke eagerly, and you giggled. 

Beckoning him closer with your index finger, you watched as Sunghoon scooted closer to you on the floor. He used his legs and arms to push all of the textbooks and papers you had spread out before out of the way. Biting his lower lip, he stared at you.

“Are you sure?” he questioned uncertainly. 

You nodded. 

”Can I kiss you?” he asked again because he wanted a verbal answer. “Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, you can kiss me, Hoon.”

Smiling, Sunghoon cupped your cheek with one hand before leaning in and hungrily capturing your lips with his. It was a different kiss to the one you shared after he won the figure skating competition. This kiss felt real. Something both of you were doing consensually.

“I want you to be able to always talk to me,” he said in between small pecks, his lips moving to your neck. He bit at the tender skin, smirking when you whimpered. “Don’t ever hide from us, again, okay? No matter what happens, Y/N. We want to be here for you.”

“I—” you paused when you felt Sunghoon’s soft lips against your shoulder. “What if I can’t…” you began, grabbing Sunghoon’s cheeks to make him look into your eyes again. Both your pupils were blown wide as you stared at each other. “Jake—”

“Will still love you whether you choose just him or all of us,” Sunghoon finished for you, finally aware of what had transpired between you. “We’re just the pathetic bunch of guys who lost their minds over one girl. You’re the one who calls the shots.” He grinned, kissing you again, though with much more passion to show you just how much he meant his words.

Placing his hands on your hips, Sunghoon waited for your reaction. He waited for what you would do. And it pleased him when you moved even closer, your hands raking through his locks.

It was you who began unbuttoning his shirt, and it was you who let him pull your t-shirt over your head. He groaned when he saw you were not wearing a bra, your nipples hard in the cold air. He could not resist the temptation to palm your boobs, listening to the small breathy sounds that left your lips as if you were simply an instrument he was playing. 

Sunghoon’s lips were stuck to yours, shifting only enough to allow you to sit on his lap, your bare stomach pressing against his clothed but very hard dick. There were thoughts he had that he could not share with you nor his friends, but Sunghoon was convinced it should’ve been him to take your virginity. It could’ve been him who took your first kiss, too, but he was an idiot. 

He had regrets to make up for, and you sat right in his lap, ready for whatever was to come. 

When he pulled away from you for a bit, it was to show you how sex-crazed his expression was. “On the bed, now,” he commanded, not giving you much space to object. 

You thought he wanted you to lie down on your back, but the opposite surprised you. Sunghoon was the one to do so, his head hitting your pillows. “I want you to ride my face,” he said, and you blinked at him several times, processing his words.

“What—”

“Have you not— oh, you haven’t.” Sunghoon came to the conclusion himself, watching the lost expression on your face. He chuckled and licked his lips. “Take the rest of your clothes off, Y/N.” A command. Again. 

You obeyed instantly. 

Sunghoon bit his tongue, hissing at the sight of you. “Beautiful,” he murmured to himself before pulling you to him. ”Just kneel above my face, Y/N.”

“But isn’t that dange—” You felt so embarrassed over the fact you were still so inexperienced despite the time you had spent with Jake. 

“You can’t hurt me,” Sunghoon said, determined to be right. At least he could have one of your firsts. Even if it was riding his face. “Trust yourself, and trust me.” 

“Okay.” You chewed on your lower lip. 

Your movements were slow, but Sunghoon’s hands were on your legs, holding them apart and positioning you above his face with a satisfied grin. 

“Now sit. Let me taste you.” There was an edge to his voice that made it hard to question him. You did as you were told, a gasp instantly leaving your lips when you felt his tongue lap at your pussy, his nose hitting your clit. 

Sunghoon groaned, mesmerised by the sweet taste of you. He knew you were a fast learner the moment you started grinding your hips on his face. His tongue did wonders, filling you more than you would’ve thought possible, and whenever you had the urge to press your thighs together, Sunghoons arms were right there, keeping them apart. 

His rhythm matched yours, and he enjoyed every moan that left your lips. “Hoon, fuck, yes, that feels good,” you murmured through the haze of pleasure, doing your best to keep it together. 

“I’m— close,” you breathed out, the knot inside your stomach slowly untangling. Sunghoon’s movements became more erratic then, wanting to make you cum on his face. 

“Sunghoon!” you exclaimed when you finally came undone, still riding off your high on the figure skater’s face, feeling his proud smile. “I need you in… inside,” you said, certain that you sounded pathetic, but Sunghoon hardly thought so.

He didn’t waste any time, flipping you to your back, his strength slightly surprising you. His trousers were gone within seconds,  andthe sight of his pink tip covered in pre-cum made you salivate, but that was perhaps for another time. 

You held your breath as Sunghoon hovered over you, teasing your entrance with his cock. Shooting him an annoyed look, he chuckled at your reaction before thrusting into you in one powerful movement. It made you lightheaded. 

“So… tight,” Sunghoon groaned, and you wanted to say he could’ve at least eased his way in, but you kept your mouth shut. “Is this okay?” he asked anyway.

“Yeah,” you replied, shimmying your hips to spur him on. The way he filled you felt amazing, but you needed him to move. “Sunghoon, please.”

Smirking, he leaned toward you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was a stark contrast to his next action as he completely pulled out and then slammed his cock inside of you again. The squelching sound of your pussy was almost unreal. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Sunghoon hummed, hands moving to your hips to hold your body at an angle that allowed him much better access. “So tight.”

He did not go easy on you, setting a rough, fast pace that made your insides turn to mush. But the pleasure was immeasurable. You could barely register the tight grip he had on your hips; it was most definitely going to bruise. 

Your room was filled with the cacophony of your whimpers, Sunghoon’s groans and skin slapping against skin until your brain could barely register anything but the tsunami building inside of you, threatening to spill over any second. 

“Sunghoon— oh,” you moaned pathetically, clutching your sheets desperately. “I’m— fuck— so close.”

His pace only turned more rabid and messy when you said it, chasing his own climax with you. 

“Sunghoon!” you screamed when the pressure was finally too much. Your body trembled with ecstasy while Sunghoon didn’t let up even as you went limp in his arms.

He leaned down to press his lips to one of your boobs, biting down on your nipple, smiling at the exhausted breath that left your mouth. Your walls squeezed Sunghoon’s dick so deliciously it was not surprising when he came not long after, pulling out swiftly, his cum splattering messily over your chest and stomach.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he mumbled, momentarily letting himself collapse on the bed next to you. Not entirely to relax, since he immediately chased the touch of your lips on his, and you couldn’t deny him. “Let me clean you up,” he said against your lips. 

You expected him to go to your bathroom and bring back a wet towel, but instead, when he got off the bed, he hauled you into his arms. You yelped, once again blown away by Sunghoon’s sheer strength. 

He carried you to the bathroom with ease, laying you down in the large bathtub that only a five-star hotel like the one from the Lees could have inside a penthouse. 

“I’m still not used to this,” Sunghoon said, glancing around the bathroom that was larger than his bedroom. But it didn’t stop him from doing what he intended. 

What you thought would be quick aftercare turned into Sunghoon starting a full bath for you, cleaning your whole body and massaging your limbs until you practically fell asleep inside the bathtub.

He only got rid of the sweat from his own body, focusing mainly on you. He wanted to show you that at the end of the day, his world was truly revolving around you. 

He may have denied it in the past simply because he was scared of what it would mean for him, but some things were worth being courageous for. Caring for you was one of those things.

When the two of you were children, you cared for him, and now it was his turn to return the favour. He needed to protect you from all the bad and be with you through all the good. And he didn’t even care if, in the end, you’d choose someone else. 

It was Sunghoon who convinced you to talk to Jake.

“I’m so sorry for running away,” you apologised softly, afraid of making eye contact with Jake.

“No, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, glancing at Jake, your eyes firm. “Do not apologise for being honest about your feelings,” you said, brushing your hair out with your fingers.

Jake chewed on his bottom lip as he eyed you.

“I just— I don’t know… I feel awful. And guilty. Have I been leading you on this whole time? I don’t even know what it means to love someone and you—”

“No, Y/N, you haven’t,” Jake reassured you, reaching out for your hands. He held onto you tightly, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. “You’ve been very clear about not wanting a relationship. It’s my fault for—”

“No.” You shook your head again, yanking your hands out of Jake’s grip only to cup his cheeks. “Don’t say it’s your fault for having feelings, Jake. I— I know I care about you, too. I care about you a lot. You make me happy, and I want to be around you almost all the time. And I don’t know if that’s love, but if that’s how you feel about me, too, then that is not a fault.”

Jake pressed his lips together, a downturned smile gracing his features — it almost resembled a pout. “You also make Sunghoon really happy, did you notice?” he asked quietly. “He smiles a lot more around you.”

“I also care about Sunghoon a lot, but—”

“You should choose him,” Jake said at once, and you gaped at him in surprise. 

“Jake… don’t say that.” You closed your eyes momentarily. “I can’t just choose. Not between you. You guys are friends.”

“Then don’t choose,” Jake sighed. “Just be with us. We’ll give you anything, Y/N. Just… please, don’t leave.” His eyes were these big, brown, sad pools that were sucking you in, and the only thought left in your brain was to kiss his pouty lips. 

“I won’t leave,” you said, your smile rueful. “Not again.”

“You promise?” Jake grabbed your hands again, trying to get you to pinky promise, but you shook your head. 

“I don’t think I’m fit to promise anything,” you said. “But I will do my best.”

“Then that’s all I need.” Jake squeezed your hands in support before leaning in for the kiss that you were not able to stop thinking about. “I’ve wanted to do this for the past week,” he mumbled, giggling against your lips. 

“It doesn’t matter if you love me back or not, Y/N. I can love you enough for the both of us,” he said, a determined look on his face. 

It was in that moment when you realised that maybe, after everything, you were in love with Sim Jake. Although it didn’t feel like fireworks or the way many people described it in books or movies, the certainty that there was someone who would always be in your corner, someone who made you feel safe to be yourself and who would never judge you was just as strong. 

Jake wasn’t just a friend you cared about. He was a friend who would support you no matter what, and so much more. And you wondered if this was the feeling people got when they found the person they would forever consider their soulmate. 

“Jake?” you whispered softly. 

“Mhm?” he hummed. 

“I think I love you, too.” The bright smile that graced your lips made Jake’s heart race. “But I don’t know how we should— I feel like everything is a mess. What about Hoon? And Jay? And—”

“I won’t make you choose, Y/N. If you don’t want to let them go, then don’t. We’re fine with it, I promise. As long as you don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Because I don’t think I can let you go after this.” Jake ran a hand through his hair, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Then don’t.” You smiled. 

Good morning, Decelis!

Who’s ready to party? I heard that the Chois are planning to start off the Lunar New Year with a bang.

XO, Miss Decelis

When Yeonjun claimed to have a special guest performance at his party, the last thing people had expected was for Bang Chan (a Decelis alumni), Seo Changbin and Han Jisung to appear on stage as a group called 3Racha. Their songs were actually amazing, but this was kind of their debut among the Decelis Academy students as nobody knew that they were a part of the underground scene for the past two years aside from Yeonjun, apparently.

You were getting a drink for yourself when he approached you with a grin. “You seem busy tonight,” he said, pointing toward a corner where four boys stood, all waiting for you to join them once again.

“Do I?” You raised your brow at him, and he let out a light-hearted chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, darling,” Yeonjun said, ruffling your hair teasingly. “Just no funny business in my house, okay? At least not without me.”

You rolled your eyes at the last remark. “You wish.”

“I really do.” Yeonjun shot you a wink, donning a lopsided grin. He avoided the slap you aimed at his shoulder, and disappeared into the crowd with a salute. “See you around, Y/N.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” You recognised Sunghoon’s voice, surprised by it at such close vicinity. He had been standing in the corner with Jay, Jake and Heeseung not so long ago, but now he was right next to you. “Was he flirting again? Should I tell him to fuck off?”

“Hoon.” You looked at the figure skater, amused by the way his whole face was contorted by jealousy. His lips formed a slight pout and his brows were furrowed as he glared into the crowd where Yeonjun left. “He’s just teasing me. It’s fine. Yeonjun’s my friend.”

“But you said he was your first kiss,” Sunghoon pointed out because he had been curious a while ago and actually asked. “And Miss Decelis—”

“That was months ago. It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head. Back then, you just wanted to lose your virginity, and it did not matter to whom that would be. You got lucky when it ended up being Jake. “Yeonjun and I are just friends.”

“I know, I trust you.” Sunghoon looked at you, an adoring glint in his brown eyes. “I just don’t trust him. To be fair, I don’t even trust myself,” he sighed.

You chuckled, letting your head fall on his shoulder. “We’ll be fine, Hoon. All of us.” Glancing toward the other boys, you saw them talking to each other, laughing about something Heeseung said. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Can you tell the guys, so they don’t have to worry about me?”

Sunghoon gave you a tight-lipped smile, showing his dimples, and nodded.

“Thank you.” Kissing his cheek, you parted ways with him again, heading upstairs to find an empty bathroom.

But you never made it to one, someone yanking you inside an empty room by the wrist. You were going to blow up at the person for the gall they have to do this, but when your eyes fell on a familiar figure you thought you’d never see again, you froze.

Your brain entirely malfunctioned at the sight of Yoo Namsoon, one of the girls who made your high school experience hell. She was not the one who pushed you into the pool last year, but she did watch, doing nothing to stop it. 

“How cute,” she said mockingly, eyeing you from head to toe. Your outfit did not fit the version of you that she knew from last year. “You think now that Heeseung and Jay finally don’t hate you, you’re something more?”

You wanted to protest. To disagree because that was not it, but your mouth could not generate any words as you stared at the girl. Her arms were crossed and her glare deadly. All you could do was chew on the inside of your cheek, your fists clenched to the point you felt your nails digging into the skin of your palms. 

“Ah, that’s not why, is it?” Namsoon’s lips formed a self-satisfied smirk as she eyed you. “I know exactly what you are.” She let out a taunting laugh, stepping toward you. She knew you had nowhere to go. The door was behind her, and she would not let you run.

You know nothing about me, you wanted to retort, but the sounds were still not coming out of your mouth. You looked like a fish on dry land, opening and closing your mouth in a pathetic attempt to face one of the many ghosts of your past.

“Still the poor little Y/N, I see,” Namsoon said, enjoying the look of terror on your face. “Or… should I call you Miss Decelis, now that I figured it out?” She feigned a pout. “I wonder if the guys know. They might not appreciate the fact that this whole time, it’s been you, trying to make them look bad.”

You couldn’t breathe. The whole room was spinning despite how hard you tried to focus on Namsoon and how much you wanted to scream at her. All you could do was just stand in place, helpless and weak against one of the girls that nearly ruined your life.

“What?” Namsoon tilted her head to the side, giving you a pitying look. “Can you not speak for yourself?”

“I—”

The door burst open, stopping you from saying anything.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Heeseung had yet to speak to you alone since you reconciled with Jake. These days, you are always with someone. Whether it be the other guys or Jeonghyeon, Ningning and Hanbin. It was obvious you were closest with Jake and Sunghoon, but you quite liked spending time with Jay, too. It was your relationship with Heeseung that was still strained because of the past that haunted it — which was also entirely his fault.

But he really wanted to talk to you. He was just still building up the courage to do so. Which was strange since Lee Heeseung wasn’t usually the anxious type of guy who needed to properly think of what he would like to say to not sound like an absolute asshole.

“Heeseung!” Jeonghyeon’s voice took him out of his stupor. His cousin stared at him with panicked eyes, grabbing at his arm while frantically looking around. Jeonghyeon’s face dropped when he spotted only Jake, Jay and Sunghoon with Heeseung.

“Jeonghyeon, what’s—”

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked instantly, still looking around as if you would sense his panic and suddenly appear out of thin air.

“Sunghoon said she went to the bathroom, why—”

“We need to find her. Now.” Jeonghyeon pulled at Heeseung’s arm, which now fully had the attention of the other three guys, each staring at Jeonghyeon with raised eyebrows.

“What’s going on?” Jay asked, tilting his head to the side.

Jeonghyeon gave Jay a helpless look. “I heard someone say they saw Yoo Namsoon here,” he said, knowing that Jay was the only one who would truly understand his words. “We have to find Y/N.”

Yoo Namsoon was a familiar name to Heeseung. He remembered the girl from last year. They’d hooked up at a party once, and what he mostly took out of the whole encounter was her endless questions about you. He never quite figured out why she wanted to know so much about your childhood, though.

“Fuck,” Jay cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “I thought she was out of the country?”

“No, that’s just Min Jiseo, since she was the one—”

“Wait, are you guys talking about the girls who got expelled for bullying?” Jake’s brows furrowed as he finally caught up to the several random names that were being dropped in the conversation. Then his eyes furrowed when he remembered the main reason why he’d known the name. “Min Jiseo… she was the one who pushed Y/N into the pool,” he said, his smile dropping.

“Yoo Namsoon was one of her best friends,” said Jeonghyeon, affirming the statement with a nod. “And right now, she’s somewhere at this party, and I can’t find Y/N.”

“Fuck,” Jay repeated again. “Let’s… let’s just all look around. One of us has got to be able to find her, right?”

“I’ll go upstairs,” Heeseung said instantly, knowing the house the best since he’d been to the house more than the few times the Chois organised parties. Choi Beomgyu was his friend, after all.

“We’ll look around,” Sunghoon agreed.

Heeseung ran toward the stairs, colliding with Beomgyu. “Hey, dude. Chill. What’s up?” The shorter guy’s laid back attitude only seemed to irk Heeseung more, but he stopped to respond regardless.

“Have you seen Y/N?”

“Oh, yeah. I think I saw someone pull her in one of the empty rooms. Was a bit weird, but I didn’t wanna pry.”

Heeseung blinked at Beomgyu several times. “You didn’t wanna—” Sighing, he shook his head. “Okay, thanks.”  He wanted to think Namsoon hadn’t got to you yet, but he had a bad feeling about this.

Heeseung opened the door to every room he could until he found the right one.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asked, faced with Namsoon’s back.

You stood in the middle of the room, rooted in your spot. Eyes glossy with unshed tears, Heeseung’s immediate response was to push past Namsoon and wrap his arms around you. He ignored Namsoon’s scornful gaze and the scoff she let out.

“Should I tell him, or will you, Y/N?” she asked tauntingly.

“Heeseung,” you murmured against his chest, but he shook his head, glaring at Namsoon.

“Well, isn’t this just so cute.” The girl rolled her eyes. “But she hasn’t told you that she’s the one who’s been shit-talking you for years to the whole school, has she?” Namsoon tilted her head, smirking. “Little Y/N trying to pretend to be something more as Miss Decelis.”

Heeseung licked his lips but didn’t react. He didn’t want to give Namsoon the satisfaction. It was certainly a conversation for later, but not now. “Who the fuck cares?” He feigned nonchalance. “Just get the fuck away from us, Namsoon. Nobody wants you here. You’re just a self-conscious bitch, and it shows. It’s pathetic.”

The offended gasp Namsoon let out made you chuckle against Heeseung’s chest, and he pressed you closer to him, creating a sort of shield between you and the girl who came to the party just to terrorise you.

“Whatever. I’ll just tell everyone else.”

“You won’t be telling anyone anything.” Jay appeared in the door, blocking the path for Namsoon. “Nobody’s gonna believe shit you say because if you haven’t forgotten, you got kicked out of Decelis for bullying.”

“Choose your next actions carefully. Because I have Y/N’s father on speed dial.” Sunghoon showed his phone from behind Jay, peering into the room. Jake was there, too.

That seemed to knock some sense into the girl. You still remembered your father threatening to take legal action against the families of anyone who would dare hurt you in any way. You hated that other people were fighting your battles, but your whole body felt numb the moment you saw Yoo Namsoon.

Her derisive laugh made you look at her. “Did you sleep with all of them? God, Y/N, out of all the things I’d expect from you, homie-hopping is definitely not one of them.”

“It’s hardly homie-hopping if we’re all fine with it.” Jake rolled his eyes. “Now get the fuck out while we’re being nice.”

Stepping to the side to create enough space for Namsoon, they pointed at the door. She glanced at you one last time, her spite seeping through every pore in her body, before finally leaving. “You’re all insane,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung let go of you, only for his hands to cup your cheeks, examining your entire face. “She didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”

You shook your head. “She didn’t touch me,” you whispered, practically collapsing in Heeseung’s arms from the imagined lack of oxygen in your lungs. “I think she just wanted to prove she still had an effect on me.”

“Y/N.” Heeseung held you tightly.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head.

“For what?”

“I’m not really sure.” 

“Then don’t be sorry,” he said. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He should’ve known you were Miss Decelis, now that he thought about it. It explained why the blog centred around you most of the time — and not necessarily in a good way. “I’m the one who should be sorry. For a lot of things.” For ignoring you. For not noticing what you were going through. For refusing to see how amazing you were and making you feel like you were less.

“Yeah. If anything, we’re the ones who should be sorry.” Jay chuckled, approaching you and Heeseung.

They didn’t have to be, though. You already forgave them.

“But we’re here for you now, Y/N.” Jake smiled, stealing a kiss from you in front of everyone. “You can always talk to us. As your friends. Or your boyfriends. Whatever you wanna label it.”

Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Technically, I’m the boyfriend,” he said matter-of-factly, raising his hand.

“Piss off.” Heeseung rolled his eyes.

You giggled, watching them pretending to fight over you. Hopefully, none of you will ever have to explain the relationship to any of your parents.

Good morning, Decelis!

It seems the rumours have reached you all. I guess one day, even this blog would have to come to an end. It is only fitting that it happens now, when the very reason I started this blog for has been resolved. If you can call it that.

I doubt most of you will miss me anyway. XO, Y/N.

tags: @moonpri @strxwbloody @starsenha @chaconadine @in-somnias-world @tmtxtf @missychief1404 @mitmit01

[2manyfandoms2count]

Back to Life (Back to Reality)

Toxinelle and Griffe Noire really have been living in my head rent free for the past week, I just think they're extremely interesting characters 👀 This is more of a character study than an actual fic with a plot, I wanted to get into Toxinelle's head! Maybe I'll revisit their world at some point, I do think it's quite cool to not have a lot of knowledge of what's going on in their world, it's that much more intriguing...

Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

---

Back to Life (Back to Reality)

Although the world they entered was the same they’d left behind, crumbling buildings lining the streets she and Griffe Noire had targeted time and time again in their quest to retrieve the Butterfly Miraculous, Toxinelle couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t look quite as hopeless as it had when they’d left it. The rising sun, which only a short time ago she might’ve found obnoxiously bright, pleasantly warmed her cheeks as she came to a halt next to a beaming Hesperia. 

“It’s been an eventful night, hasn’t it?” he commented once Ubiquity landed at his side, the glow of her power receding to reveal Alya Césaire. 

If she’s the other Marinette’s best friend, she can’t be that bad, Toxinelle thought, already considering a strategy to get closer to her at school. 

“I suggest we all take a little time to process what’s happened, and regroup later.” Hesperia smiled, interrupting her mental meanderings before she could overthink anything. “You know where to find us, take your time.” Watching him, Toxinelle found herself realising that she’d never realised how approachable he looked, unlike most adults in her life. And if the other Marinette’s world had seemed better in many ways, she really didn’t envy her for the presence of Monarque in her life; she wasn’t sure who of him or the Supreme was worse, but she liked the idea that she’d have a heroic adult on her side to fight for a better world.

Hesperia extended his hand, a gesture that made Toxinelle realise she was still holding Griffe Noire’s. She cleared her throat as she let go of it, before shaking her ex-opponent’s, who then turned towards her partner— no, that didn’t sound right, was it teammate, that the other Marinette used as a term?… It was probably more accurate. Had somebody asked her earlier that day, she might’ve described their relationship as one of “reluctant allies”, but there had been a shift in their dynamic from the moment they’d positioned themselves against the Supreme, which would have to draw them closer. 

At least she hoped so— it was one thing considering going against him as a team, an entirely different one to face him on her own. She didn’t think she was strong enough for it; not physically, the newfound feeling of health she’d retrieved from the other timeline being just a flicker next to the flame she’d once possessed, before it had all started, but least of all mentally. Not now, anyway.

“See you soon,” the man said, waving as he and his ally made their way back to their base. 

Just like that, Toxinelle found herself standing alone with Griffe Noire in the empty street.

“Bed–, I mean, um… Ladybug? Is that really what I’m supposed to call you now?” the tomcat raised an eyebrow.

“What about you? Have you landed on a good name?” she parried. 

“Hey, at least I was creative with mine, you’re just a– a copycat!” He pointed at her, laughing. It was the first time she heard him laugh genuinely, and she had to admit, it sounded pretty good.

Toxinelle stuck out her tongue at him, hoping it would distract from the blush creeping up her cheeks. She wasn’t entirely sure, but something told her that the thick layer of pale foundation she conscientiously applied every day, and which had until then stuck through her transformation, hadn’t made it back from their journey to the other world. 

“Anyway, what?” she asked rather abruptly, out of habit. She didn’t like that her sharp tone was coming back so quickly. She winced, and quickly added, more softly: “did you want to say?”

“Oh, er, well, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to meet up at some point? To discuss… this.” He gestured vaguely at their surroundings.

Toxinelle thought about what awaited her at home, and the panic that started washing over her made her feel like she was already losing grip on the thin thread of hope the other Marinette had started weaving for her.

“How about now?” she blurted out.

Griffe Noire was speechless for a second, but quickly pulled himself back together with a smirk. “Well, well, well,” he said, “look who can’t get enough of Adrien Agreste now.”

Toxinelle rolled her eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up again. “For someone who’s so gloomy and silent without a mask, you sure are chatty with one on,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Griffe Noire paled (she noticed now that his make-up had gone during his costume change, too; his complexion was quite nice when it wasn’t painted over) and he cleared his throat. “As if you don’t change your attitude either.”

“I’m sorry, how do you know me again, exactly?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re my baker girl.” He shrugged, looking down and kicking a stray pebble. “I mean, not my baker girl, more like, the baker girl. Or whatever,” he mumbled quickly, blushing.

Toxinelle frowned, racking her brain to remember meeting him. Even without being a fan, she’d still recall serving the famous Adrien Agreste. She probably even would’ve been annoyed by his presence, knowing it would probably bring more people to the bakery, not to buy, but to stalk around in the hope of catching a glimpse of him. People could be so shallow. “You’ve never come inside the shop, though, have you?”

“No,” he admitted. “My bodyguard gets my chouquettes for me.”

“Wow, so you’re really that famous person.” She rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I’d like to see you face crazed fans any time you set foot outside.”

“Not likely to happen.” She walked away. If she shared an interest in fashion with the other Marinette, she clearly didn’t have the same support, or even the same time to dedicate to what she could only describe as her hobby, rather than a more serious career aspiration. And if she didn’t get the practice now… well, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get around to it.

“It’s always you, serving clients at the bakery. Never your parents,” he called out after her.

She turned back towards him, guarded. If he’d noticed that much from just waiting around in a car, who knew what else he’d noticed. “They’re very busy people.”

“And you’re still in school. And a Miraculous holder, even if I guess they don’t know about that. That’s one thing my dad is incredibly annoying about: making sure I don’t overdo it in modelling hours because “I need to lead a normal life”.” Griffe Noire air quoted.

“It’s nice that he cares, though,” Toxinelle let out with a sigh. 

“It’s exhausting, he’s positive all the time .” Griffe Noire threw his hands up. “It’s unnatural, if you ask me.” 

“Oh boo-hoo. He should meet my mother, nothing’s ever good enough for her,” she muttered, immediately regretting her words and the can of worms it might open.

There was a beat of silence, which felt unbearable to her, before Griffe Noire cautiously asked: “Want to talk about it?”

She considered her answer carefully. On the one hand, something told her that talking about what she was going through, the constant pressure of life at home, in some ways feeling more isolated in what should be the comfort of home, never being able to rely on anyone, might help her. Talking to the other Marinette had made some things click inside of her, after all. On the other hand, as much as she wanted to trust that Griffe Noire wasn’t going anywhere, she was afraid to crack the door open if it would just come back slamming I’m her face.

“Not now, if that’s okay,” she finally said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ll be there when you’re ready.” Griffe Noire nodded. “You know where to find me. If you still want to talk, that is, if you want to be my…” he trailed off, as if looking for the right word.

“Friend?” she suggested, holding out her hand.

“Friend,” he repeated, shaking it, as if tasting the word. His face lit up with a bright smile.

His baton beeped just then, and he looked at her sheepishly. “I think that’s my cue to leave. I’m going to be late for dinner with my father— another thing he’s very peculiar about. But we’ll have to meet again, we didn’t get to discuss our whole situation with the Supreme, Hesperia and everything.” 

“It’s alright, we can set out another moment when I bring you your chouquettes tomorrow.” She smiled.

“Are you really going to turn me into the type of famous person who gets them delivered directly to the window of their car? I would’ve thought you’d despise that.” He winked.

“It’s fine if I’m the one who suggests it.” She laughed. 

“Aright, then, looking forward to it.” He bowed. “See you tomorrow, Bug.”

Toxinelle had to admit that she could hardly wait.

[bookofmirth]

Az, Gwyn, and power

Something I’ve seen going around a lot lately, in the past couple of months, is that if Azriel and Gwyn were to enter into a relationship, it would be unequal or imbalanced, basically that Azriel has more power than Gwyn and so it would make for a potentially... bad (? definition tbd) relationship.

I’ve already explained why the theory about Elain not knowing how the bond works makes her look like either stupid, or ignorant, or supremely passive. I’m assuming that is not the intention of the stans.

Now lemme explain why this interpretation, of a gwynriel relationship being inherently imbalanced and problematic for being so, would make Azriel look like an asshole.

I keep seeing people saying “because this person has power and this person doesn’t, this thing is bad”. No. That’s not how it works. Power is much more complex and nuanced than that, and it depends on how the individual decides to wield it. There are multiple ways that someone can gain, retain, and use power. Some have more access than others, for different reasons. However, it is not inevitable that those with more power will exploit those with less.

In the post about power I mentioned Rhys, and he is a great example of why having power isn’t necessarily a bad thing for everyone around him. The only thing that keeps Rhys from literally every sort of privilege is that he is half Illyrian. Other than that, he has everything going for him. However, he rarely, if ever, takes advantage of his power to the detriment of others. We could probably argue about why this is or isn’t true and to what extent, but the point is that we have other examples of similar fae - Beron - who wield the same types of power and do not gaf about anyone else. Rhys intentionally allows the IC to have a voice in what happens in the NC, he listens to them, he takes their advice, and sometimes he does a shitty job but he tries to avoid ruling with an iron fist.

Back to gwynriel.

So the idea that Gwyn and Azriel cannot be equals in a relationship initially came from the idea that Gwyn is, somehow, at 28 years old, mentally and emotionally a child. We know that this is NOT true. It has been confirmed by the writer, who did hear explanation of the different rates at which fae age. So her denial that Gwyn is a child was not out of context. She knew what people were thinking.

However, there are still issues that people bring up regarding Gwyn being a priestess and Azriel being the spymaster. But let’s be clear about who Gwyn and Azriel are:

Gwyn is a priestesses. She is not a nun. She spends her time learning and aiding others in that pursuit.

She protected children when her temple was under attack.

Gwyn is Carynthian. One of the only two women in history to earn that distinction. That accomplishment took intelligence, cunning, cooperation, and strength.

Gwyn is mostly High Fae.

Gwyn is a SA survivor.

Azriel rescued her.

Azriel is a spymaster.

Azriel is also Carynthian.

He is part Illyrian.

Azriel’s role in the library is not “supervisor”. He is not their camp counselor. He is not their authority figure. He brings women to the library who have been victimized, and then he leaves. 

The two people who are actually in charge of the library and its citizens safety are Morrigan and Rhysand.

Combining all those facts with Gwyn’s age, Gwyn is not Azriel’s inferior in any way. No matter which way you look at it, there is nothing about Azriel that inherently puts him in a position to abuse his power.

She is also not his inferior in terms of maturity (while I can see that being an argument, it would need to be equally applied to nessian, feysand, elucien, e*riel, etc.... and it’s not. Unless an sjm anti is reading this, then yeah, I can see them making that argument.)

So let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that Azriel does hold a position of authority over Gwyn. He doesn’t, but let’s just pretend that these arguments are actually valid.  If - if - Gwyn and Azriel were problematic as a relationship because of some power imbalance, then it stands to reason that that ship is problematic because Azriel is the type of person to exploit that imbalance.

Is that what y’all were going for when you try to say that gwynriel makes you feel uncomfortable??? Doubt it.

One last point about my list above - if y’all think that the fact that Azriel rescued Gwyn means that he can only see her that way, that he can only see her as an SA survivor and can never see beyond that, fails to recognize her growth and strength, even though he helped her to complete the Blood Rite Qualifier... again, that doesn’t say great things about Azriel (and maybe doesn’t say great things about people who would make that argument, since people are not defined by their trauma!)

I have seen (maybe? maybe I imagined this) a comparison between Azriel and Gwyn that he’s like... a teacher, and she’s the student, to explain why they are not an appropriate ship. The big problem with a teacher/student relationship is that the student in the scenario feels like they cannot say no. Your teacher is an authority, they are more mature, more knowledgeable, they have influence over whether you pass a class and get a good grade, they can tell your parents if you have been behaved or completing your work, etc. There are a lot of ways that a teacher can punish a student for not doing what they want. This is why those relationships are always frowned upon - it’s big dubcon territory, if not straight up noncon. 

However, again, Gwyn is participating in the Valkyrie training voluntarily. She lives at the library voluntarily. She is a priestess voluntarily. There is nothing that Azriel can do to Gwyn that would force her to comply with what he wants. Gwyn can tell Azriel to fuck off, to go choke, to eat dust, to go jerk off, and... nothing would happen. He would probably stop hanging around as much, but that’s... it. He has no actual power over her in the sense of being an authority figure or being in control of her life in any way.

Something that I almost put in that original post but didn’t because it was besides the point at the time, was that there are always power differences. People will always have differing levels of access to privilege and power. That does NOT mean that people can and must only ever be in relationships with people of similar levels or power/privilege. In that post I mentioned how feylin didn’t work out because Tamlin had so much access and Feyre had none - to compound this problem, he allowed her access to none. He did nothing to try to even the playing field, to educate or empower her. That’s what made it a problem. 

So do y’all think that Azriel would be like Beron? Someone willing to take the privilege he has and wield it over someone else like a cudgel? Or is he more like Rhys? Aware of his position and working to support - not manipulate - others? Because even if we were to accept the premise that there is a problematic power imbalance between Azriel and Gwyn, the only reason we should be uncomfortable with that is if we think that Azriel is the type of person who would exploit that imbalance. 

[stxleslyds]

You always seem down on the idea of the Batfam. I mean, it is hard to take seriously when writers make Bruce hostile or downright abusive towards his kids, or when Batfam members never interact. But do you think the concept itself is good, and it's just been the victim of bad writing? Or do you think the Batfam is a bad idea that can never work?

Hi there Anon! Thank you for the ask!

Hmm, this is a difficult question. Maybe I can answer this better if I do it in parts because the concept of “Batfamily” is used in different ways currently. A way to separate them can be, DC’s Batfamily, Fandom’s Batfamily and Fandom’s Batfamily lore being introduced in comics’ canon.

DC’s Batfamily:

My rejection of this version of Batfamily comes from all angles, it is not a good concept within comics lore anymore, it’s badly written and used to hide and move on from truly horrendous actions done by Bruce towards the rest of the family, and DC uses the concept of “Batfamily” that fandom has become so attached to, so they can profit off of it without writing anything of real essence with it.

Why did I say that the Batfamily isn’t a good concept anymore? Well, because the Batfamily that I first came across in comics included, Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Barbara, Tim and Cassandra. It was rather small and their books interconnected and had pretty solid relationships with one another. Dick and Tim got along and spent time together, Barbara mentored Cass so she could become Batgirl and so on and so forth. The family was smaller and more connected. But they still had problems and bad habits then. So, I liked them as a group of people that worked together and the name they received was “Batfamily” as a way for DC to profit from it.

Right now, the Batfamily is huge, I don’t know if you have seen those splash pages with all the members of it for Rebirth and Infinite Frontier, but those promotional pages were crazy big, characters like Harley and Clownhunter are now considered part of the “Batfamily” and all that. Then there is the kind of characters like Cass, Steph and Kate who are all connected to Batman but that haven’t been appearing in books for very long, so putting them on that page really feels like DC is trying to prove that their “Batfamily” actually has women on it, but it’s just for show.

And then there is Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian, the most recognizable faces of the Batfamily aside from Bruce and Alfred (but Alfred is dead now so he doesn’t really count), all of them have had issues with Bruce or are indifferent to the existence of one another. Yes, Tom Taylor has included Tim in Dick’s book but here is the thing, it feels like he put him there just to make fans shut up about the lack of content with both of them acting as they used to do. But its false and lazy, Taylor just brought Tim to the book but we don’t get to see Tim and Dick interact in ways that can explain why they drifted off, it kinda seems like all those years where Dick and Tim were pulled apart never happened to DC and that makes me think “cash grab”. I would have loved to see them interact again if it meant that we would have some solid story for them to develop their relationship once more.

At the end of Rebirth, Damian was pissed off at Bruce and they had a fight and Damian left the manor completely. Bruce beat up Jason, then gave him a hug but still told him that he was banned from Gotham and all that abuse and manipulation was swept under the rug when DC came out with Urban Legends: Cheer, all they did with that story is lie and made-up stories about Jason wanting Bruce to go on a killing spree so Gotham can finally be the home to his beloved family (lies, lies, lies).

On top of all that we have the neglect, abuse and manipulation that Bruce had going on with Dick, ever since Bruce manipulated Dick into joining Spyral his actions haven’t faced any consequences (the family still believes that Dick was the one who lied about dying). And as recently as the end of Rebirth, Dick suffered from a head injury that left him amnesiac and Bruce absolutely didn’t care enough to look after him when he was so vulnerable and alone. DC had the audacity of having Bruce say that he was looking after Dick while Dick went from one villain manipulating and hurting him to another, and if we look at Batman’s run, we can see that he spent some of that time in a weird pit or playing catch the pussy with Selina in a tropical island.

So, taking all those things into account, I honestly believe that the Batfamily is a concept that absolutely does not belong in comics. If it were to be taken seriously then DC should come up with (organic, not forced) stories that make these characters connect once again, but they have to be careful, just because they can connect it doesn’t mean that everyone gets along and they have group chats and eat dinner together of Fridays, that would be a blatant lie and just too out there for their kind of dynamic, so, they should take things slow, start re-building what once was an make it better (if they want to make it work and feel like less of a cash grab).

I heard that there is a book with Cass and Steph being mentored as Batgirls by Barbara coming out in December, that to me is a good thing, what was done in Robin #5 was awful, Jason didn’t have or want to be there, Tim, what the hell was Tim doing there? The only ones that have gotten along with Damian and have had a solid relationship with him were Dick and Steph. Dick had a very nice moment with Damian in that issue, but Steph didn’t, they preferred to have Jason wanting to hug Damian instead (what the actual hell was that?).

Fandom’s Batfamily:

Fandom is a place where people can take any concept from anywhere and transform it into whatever they please. This fandom is just like any other in that matter, but I have noticed that sometimes the Batfamily Fandom tends to blur the lines between what’s fanon and canon. Their lore is so deep and established among people that they sometimes (willingly or not) make new readers or other people believe that how things and perceived in fandom is how things actually are in comics, and that is a huge problem.

Things like “Dick sent Jason to Arkham when the Joker was just a cell away”, “Jason has pit madness and when he gets mad his eyes turn glowy green”, “Dick was a horrendous brother to Jason before Jason died”, “Jason would be good friends with Tim and Cass”, “Jason is the only one that sees the world differently from Bruce and the other robins because he is the only one that comes from a life with no luxury” and so on and on and on…

All of those things are sometimes treated as the absolute truth by fandom and no matter how many times people have debunked and explained that those things aren’t part of comics’ canon because they are simply not true, fandom stills treats those things as the basis of their Batfamily lore.

That lore would be actually fascinating if people didn’t lose sight so easily of the fact that at the end of the day none of that lore can be applied to comics’ canon.

When you enter this fandom things can be extremely confusing and the way some of the characters are characterized are completely different to their canon characterizations, I knew that the Dick fandom was writing about was not real, but I had no idea that Tim being a coffee addict that hasn’t slept in five months and is an absolute genius in everything and anything that he does was completely out of character for him, I just thought that was true to his character in comics too. Something like that happened to me when I took a peek at Jason’s side of fandom, by that time I had read Red Hood/Arsenal, UtRH and New 52 RHatO (yeah in that order, Red Hood/Arsenal wasn’t finished yet though), with the already conflicting characterizations of those books, the first look that I had at fandom’s Jason confused me even more. After considering all those I decided that the Jason that I wanted to see and actually looked appealing to me was UtRH Jason.

Not all people in fandom read comics and that is ABSOLUTELY VALID, I have zero problems with people not liking the comic characterizations of the “Batfamily” characters, but that in itself also creates a rift between fans themselves.

Fandom’s Batfamily lore being introduced in comics’ canon:

This is obviously the intersection of the other two points and this is the biggest problem that I have with the Batfamily concept. The fandom lore has been leaking into comic’s canon for a while now but right now we are kinda drowning in it. Decisions that have been made recently in DC like, Jason giving up his guns, the group chats in Nightwing issues, the family dinners that were hinted at in Cheer #6, and Bruce having had at the ready a Red Hood suit for Jason with a Batman logo in its chest, have been proof enough that DC is planning on skipping any kind of solid writing for these characters to actually get along. We are never going to see these people sit down and talk about their differences and respect each other’s work ethics.

We are never going to get stories of actual essence that prove that these characters understand and care for each other, we are just going to be told that “all is good” and now everyone loves one another and they will build from there.

That is a problem for me.

-

And it also takes away duality from Gotham’s vigilantes, I know I say this too much but it’s the truth, putting all these characters under the ruling of Batman makes them all bland. Jason shouldn’t be part of any sort of group that involves Bruce! My god, I don’t want to see them interact anymore! Bruce has been absolute trash to Jason ever since he came back from the dead and I am tired of DC trying to make them be on good terms!

Jason and Bruce not getting along can co-exist with the fact that Jason isn’t a villain to Batman’s legendary hero. Jason is his own character, with his own morals and he doesn’t need a bat symbol on his chest or book logo to be relevant. Same with Dick, Tim and Barbara, let them be characters that can stand on their own because they have already done that!

Barbara as Oracle worked WITH Batman if she wanted, she had her own logo and had passed on the mantle of Batgirl because he had grown out of it.

Dick is Nightwing and has become an even better hero than Batman could even aspire to become, he has contacts with everyone in the DC universe, has led countless teams, he doesn’t NEED a batman logo on his book or to be constantly dragged back to him just to make the Bat more compelling.

Jason, my sweet Jason, he had his own logo! It was gorgeous and then Lobdell had the audacity to stamp a Batman logo in the middle of the book name and in Jason’s chest! Have we gone absolutely mad? Why did they do that? Lobdell’s constant back and forth with Jason and his feelings for Bruce, he respects him and he doesn’t, he kills and he doesn’t… each issue felt like a new take on the character! It was crazy!

And that has happened with everyone in the “family”. I will end this by saying that Bruce/Batman being at the centre of this “Batfamily” dynamic is the most laughable thing in the DC Universe. Batman isn’t family to any of the people that they constantly surround him with, he is a piece of shit.

Anyway Anon, I hope this answer doesn’t ruin your day and that you understand that even though I really don’t like the “Batfamily” concept, you and everyone else are allowed and encouraged to think differently!

Hope you have a marvellous day Anon!

[lovenona]

and i repeat: anthropo-ceramics geto suguru is the type of toxic where he'd take your virginity, make a sculpture about the experience, then smash it on the ground as a metaphor

this ask is my entire life. this ask is my lifeblood. everyone please saddle up for the ride of a lifetime, otherwise known as 1500ish words of toxic geto featuring sukuna being a good fucking friend – please continue at ur own risk this absolutely contains geto being a pretentious toxic fucker and mentions of virginity/first time but yes i guarantee it does have a happy ending (link to the full college! cinematic universe here) 

let’s begin with the basics – why wouldn’t you fuck geto suguru? he has the type of beauty that lingers on the back of your eyelids even after you’ve long since departed from him; it’s the kind of fragrant, lasting beauty that you think sculptors muse over when they coax life from their marble. he’s smooth, like still water, and calming, like the sound of birds rustling and leaves swaying at dawn. he is helen: a beauty that nations would go to war over. 

and sure, he is pretentious, the kind of toxic pretentiousness that festers inside of all pretty boys who call themselves “leftists” but can’t be bothered to call their mothers or to care about their partners. but it’s the way he speaks, the way he looks at you with such fervor and attention in his eyes that you’re utterly willing to let him break your heart. 

and maybe it’s not often that someone looks at you the way geto does: it’s not often that someone looks at you like they want you, body and soul. and it feels nice to be cared about, to be flirted with, even if the figure doing the flirting condescends you in a way that is different, harsher, colder, than the way ryomen sukuna does. 

so geto suguru takes you on dates. after the avant-garde poetry reading, in which you feigned excitement as he recited a poem on global imperialism that you didn’t quite vibe with, he brings you to local bookstores with overpriced yuppie memoirs, farmers’ markets with organic fruit, human rights protests and philosophy meetings where greasy boys bitterly discuss the communist manifesto. he takes you to dinner, too, to vegan restaurants that you can’t help but rave about on yelp later and to bars where they serve your cocktails in mason jars. 

geto suguru, for all his faults, is incredibly lighthearted with you; he makes you feel beautiful and desirable and warm, even when he’s explaining anthropology to you with such intense vigor that you lose track of his meaning. after everything, you’d be lying if you said you regretted your time with him.

after awhile you let geto fuck you – and yes, he was your first time, which you were naturally quite nervous about. but you appreciated him because he waited for you; he never pressured you into behaviors you didn’t want; he never asked you for services you weren’t ready to provide. and so when you slept with him, after an invigorating open-mic night at the fair-trade coffee shop near campus, you felt ready for the intimacy. geto made you feel attractive, comfortable, safe. he praised you the whole night, gave you caresses that lit you up like fireworks, provided such a level of god-tier aftercare you still reminisce about it, even now. 

but that’s the thing about anthropology-ceramics major geto suguru: he’s quietly toxic. he’s a poison that sneaks up on you, infecting your bloodstream when you least expect it. 

you weren’t sure if geto wanted to pursue a relationship, either. you’d fucked, sure, and you went on dates, but he was always the type to avoid long-term commitments. rumors float around campus of the many partners he’s ghosted, of the relationships he exploited for his own “artistic musings.” they aren’t loud rumors, to be sure, but they hang around his aura like a strange, ghostly scent. 

geto is a pretentious little fuck. you’ve known it and agreed to enter his circle anyway. maybe you hoped, perhaps naively, that the rumors would simply not apply to you.

which was a stupid idea. three weeks after the experience, since which you have only spent one-on-one time with geto only a few times, mostly to talk about school, the art department hosts an art show. it’s a regular occurrence, where the art students show off their best works, grad students display their in-progress theses, and outsiders can browse the displays, drink wine, offer to give outstanding students jobs and internships. it’s truly a big fucking deal for the art department; many of the school’s the most successful artists received their first acclaim here. 

you’ve always enjoyed attending, even if the level of talent and expertise sometimes intimidates you, even if you know you’ll never be on this level. you know sukuna’s got a few paintings lined up to be on display – paintings you’ve modeled for, drawings you’ve watched him labor over for hours on end. you reckon that for all your begrudging time together, you might as well show your face in support. 

but what you didn’t count on was geto’s contribution.

at this art show, there are, every now and then, some interactive performances, speeches, explanations on certain works. so it happens that from the back of the auditorium you watch geto take the stage, wheeling a small, white sculpture behind him. from your perspective it could have been a flower – perhaps a lily, but you can’t be certain. 

(geto always did like sculpting precious, dainty flowers.)

he doesn’t call you by name, but he doesn’t have to. he talks at great length in that smooth voice of his about the construct of virginity, the purity culture plaguing the globe, the emotional sensitivity of having your first time. geto seguru tells an avid audience what you felt about fucking for the first time. he recreates the entire night for two hundred listeners: he recalls the foreplay, the insecurity, the orgasms. he doesn’t call you by name. he doesn’t have to. 

he may have asked for your consent the first time. but he certainly did not ask your permission to do this. 

you’re not sure if you should laugh or cry when geto dramatically smashes his own sculpture, citing the “destruction of virginity” and  the need “to demolish a social desire to classify one’s morality based upon their sexual activity” and “the symbolic popping of the cherry” among other phrases that are utter bullshit. you’re watching the fragments dance across the stage and you feel exploited. you feel used in a way that feels utterly worse than anything else geto could have done.

did he ever like you? or were you simply a muse for this moment? 

you’re about to ditch the art show and go wallow in self pity at your apartment when a familiar presence slides in beside you.

“that’s kinda fucked,” sukuna says, hands in his jacket pockets. he’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye. his tone tells you he’s joking. maybe he just doesn’t know. “no one gives a shit about virginity constructs anymore, idiot.” 

“yeah,” you respond, but the energy is gone. you feel strange, like you’re hovering outside of yourself. your head hurts: you’re angry. you decide you’d like to cry when you get home. “what a piece of shit.” it comes out strangled and lost. 

sukuna notices the dejection in your voice, the sag in your shoulders, the way you’re just barely able to hold yourself together. he may be arrogant, not ryomen sukuna is not mean.

a familiar arm around your shoulders, keeping your sanity together. “shit’s lame. let’s get the fuck out of here.” it’s a phrase that captures everything that remains unsaid between you: i’m going to beat the shit out of geto the next time i see him. that’s absolutely unbelievable.

you never explicitly told sukuna about your weird relationship with geto: you didn’t have to. it was always evident to the both of you. it was written in the way you’d look a little bit longer in geto’s direction, in the way you let yourself be strung along and become someone else. you’ve hung around sukuna long enough that you know his body language and that he knows yours. you’ve hung around sukuna enough that there are a lifetime of stories that never need to be told. 

you nod. “yeah.” thank you. i know. 

you’re both uncharacteristically silent when you exit the auditorium, when you collect sukuna’s belongings that are still lounging by his artwork as you prepare to leave. ryomen sukuna is famous for never shutting the fuck up. but as you button your coat, he’s silent, and it’s strange. comfortable.

“thank you,” you say with uncharacteristic softness as he throws a sketchbook back into his backpack and zips it shut. 

“why?”

“for asking my permission,” you say, gesturing to the gallery wall behind him, to the painting of you – “eros” – that you had posed for awhile back. even now, you find that it captures an essence you did not know you possessed. “he didn’t. ask, i mean.” 

ryomen sukuna has always craved your attention. and maybe he’s glad he’s got it back – but it feels sour. he doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking upset for you. he doesn’t understand why he wants so badly for you to be happy again. what he does understand is that he plans for retribution. 

“that’s fucked,” he settles on. “what bastard doesn’t ask for consent?”

you smile – and he does too, one that’s less feral and almost kind. and so you fall back into routine, already, some kind of weight lifting from your shoulders. ryomen sukuna may be a menace, but you can rely on him, trust him: that much you know. 

“you know,” sukuna says offhandedly as you exit the building and enter the parking lot. “i know where geto’s car is, i’m just saying. and i’d be lying if i said i didn’t have an extra precision knife in my backpack right now.”  

[automaticneon]

Clouds

Chapter 1: Automatic Love (NSFT)

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: “When desires go unfulfilled, they turn into needs”

Clouds is the most technologically advanced dollhouse in Madripoor. It’s a void for people to escape into, or at least the lucky few that can afford to visit. 

And Zemo is very lucky.

The reader meets a strange new client, a man of mystery and poetic language and when she uncovers a secret most valuable to Helmut Zemo, their relationship goes from professional to something much more profound.

A/N: It’s essentially a Cyberpunk AU, but you don’t need to know a thing about the game! I’ve just borrowed the names of locations and the concept of Clouds. The reader is essentially a high clas s*x worker, if that isn’t your cup of tea, this probably isn’t the fic for you!

If this was high-end, there was no way to tell.

At least that’s what Zemo thinks as his car pulls up outside the mega-building. It’s an unsightly structure but not uncommon for this area of Madripoor, about fifty-storey’s tall and covered in vibrant LED screens.

For a minute he considers instructing his driver to take him back to his apartment in high-town so he can pretend this never happened. He had been averse to this idea already, but a friend from his military days had been convinced he should try coming here. “It’s cutting-edge” is what he had been told, but what exactly cutting-edge meant was a mystery to Zemo.

“Would you like me to wait for you, Sir?” the driver asks, snapping Zemo out of his thoughts.

The baron swipes his hand over his face, taking one last look at the building outside the window before responding.

“No, I’ll call when I’m done.”

He reckons his driver knows what he’s doing here. Mega-building H8 was known for only one thing, its position on the layline between high and low town meant it was frequented by all wealthy inhabitants of Madripoor. Mobsters and politicians alike congregated at this monster of architecture, hopeful of its contents and desperate to go unrecognised.

And now they can add a Baron to that list of unfortunates, Zemo thinks with resignation.

He leaves the car before the embarrassment can fester in his chest.

 The building is worse up close than at a distance.

Climbing the flight of concrete stairs Zemo is transported from the sidewalk and into the belly of the beast. The entrance to the megabuilding is a low-ceilinged sprawl of street-vendors and food stalls. It’s loud and busy, but Zemo has no problem blending into the crowd. He weaves through the stream of people, illuminated by neon signs that grow increasingly vulgar in their images the deeper into the building he moves.

Eventually, towards the back of the building, he finds the metal gates of an industrial-style elevator. He slides the grate open and steps inside to find the space is lit by multiple illuminated advertisement screens rotating through various commercials, each more obscene than the last. For a moment Zemo takes the moral high ground, musing with distaste about the sort of men these adverts are geared towards. He takes the moral high ground until he remembers what he has come here to do. Defeatedly he admits to himself he has no right to feel lofty.

The illuminated keypad flashes at him, and he reaches out to input his destination.

 Floor 12 – CLOUDS

 The elevator is slow as it climbs past the levels of cheap apartments and eventually comes to stop at level 12. As Zemo goes to open the grate again, he wonders if he’ll be greeted by some of that high-class sophistication he was promised.

He is not.

This floor is much like the entrance hall, only this time it’s a balcony that wraps around the interior of the mega-building and faces down into an open-air atrium. Zemo notices that the elevator he steps out of does not go any higher than this level, the floors above must be the luxury apartments and must have their own entrance.  He begins to follow the neon signs again.

“I don’t get why you’re so hung up about this?” A man near him says to his friend. Zemo bristles at the strong American accent, but carefully allows himself to eavesdrop.

“I don’t know, man,” The friend responds “It just feels wrong, you know? Like I’ll be cheating on my girl with one of these dolls”

“But that’s just it! These girls are dolls, man. They’re not real. It’s like sleeping with a blow-up-doll. No difference”

“You know that’s not true; the difference is they’re real. They’re made of flesh.”

“That’s what makes them great though. They’re dolls made of flesh.”

Zemo moves on before he can hear anymore.

He follows the signs until he reaches a wide hallway into the building, and there at the end is the rather simple looking entrance to Clouds dollhouse. The low ceiling of the hallway allows for little decoration, but he supposes a place with such an infamous reputation needs little in terms of advertisement. Soft pink neon signs flash the name of the establishment, and beside the double glass doors a glitchy hologram of a woman dances away. As he approaches, a pre-recorded voice rings out from a speaker at the base of the hologram.

“Looks like you could use a little automatic love.”

He refuses to acknowledge the projection.

Inside clouds is arguably worse than outside. The hallway is lined with tattered posters and it smells of something cheap and artificial. When Zemo enters the small, empty reception the lady behind the desk looks up with a smile.

“Welcome to clouds, where we always know what you’re looking for.”

  -

 None of you can hear a thing from the changing room.

“Do you think he’ll fire her?”

“I’m not sure. Depends how angry the client was,”

“Shut up I’m trying to hear,”

The room falls silent as Divine presses her ear to the door.

Moments ago the dressing room had been full of the usual chatter as you and the other dolls prepared for the evening shift. There was nothing to indicate the night would be anything but normal, that was until a few minutes ago when Woodman, the caretaker of dolls, had knocked furiously at the door and demanded that Azure come to his office down the hall for an immediate meeting.

“Is it just Woodman?” you ask. Azure could be abrasive at times, but she was certainly one of you favourite colleagues and you desperately wanted her to avoid being fired by management.

“I think so. I can’t hear anyone else.” Divine says, leaning back from the door.

“She’ll be fine, I’m sure,” one of the other dolls assures the room “She’s been here the longest. If they haven’t fired her yet, I doubt they ever will.”

“True. We can’t let this ruin a good Friday night. Five minutes until we need to be out in the booths, girls” Divine announces, and promptly returns to her table to finish her makeup.

Moments before the timer goes off the dressing room door flies open, and Azure stalks back to her table in silence. She’s not upset, but you can see the frustration hidden behind a poor attempt at offhand indifference. You want to ask if she’s alright, but the aggressive way she’s searching through her desk drawer makes you think it’s better to leave her be. The other girls do the same, cautiously looking over at her but making no attempt at conversation.

When the timer rings out you take one final sip of water and head to the door, grabbing the key-card for booth three as you leave.

 - 

“Welcome to clouds, where we always know what you’re looking for.”

The pink light of the glowing reception desk illuminates her face from below. That, combined with her uncomfortably bright smile makes the receptionist look like some sort of robot from a sci-fi film. Zemo lets out an amused huff at the very ambitious welcome promise.

“With all due respect, how could you know exactly what it is I want.”

“Clouds always knows. Your deepest desire – we find it. You’ll have your needs fulfilled – and maybe much more. ‘Less’ is not a word we use around here.” The receptionist replies.

“And how is that supposed to work then,” Zemo questions with a tilt of his head.

“Our algorithm searches your social media. With your permission it will create a personal profile based on any information if can gather, including personal preferences for you partners appearance. The algorithm will then select a doll for you, and create an experience based off that information.,” She slides a form across the desk “of course we ensure this is entirely confidential, this form confirms our promise.”

“I’ll admit I’m impressed. However I do not have a social media presence I’m afraid.” Zemo responds.

He couldn’t lie, the process seemed interesting. It was obviously a successfully programmed algorithm if the establishment had such a strong reputation. He found himself for the first time tonight not entirely doubting his choice to come here. He was interested to see what they would do for his situation.

“In that case I’ll have to ask you a few general questions to select a doll for you. If you are unsatisfied with their performance, you’ll be entitled to a refund at the end of the session.”

The receptionist begins to read a series of questions from her computer screen, gender preferences, what sort of experience he’s looking for. She concludes with organising payment, and the price is eyewatering even with the slight discount she applies since they cannot use the algorithm. When all is paid and signed for, the receptionist asks for a safe word. Admittedly it throws Zemo for a minute.

“It’s company policy” she says.

“Pontiac” he says bluntly, after a moment of thought.

“Fantastic.” The receptionist enters his response to the computer “Welcome to clouds. Serenity will be waiting for you in booth three.”

Zemo passes through another set of double doors and finds himself in a labyrinth of pink lights. The walls are lined with black, opaque glass and every so often a blue neon number protrudes from the wall indicates the booth behind it.

It doesn’t take long for him to find booth three, but he pauses before pressing the button to open the door. He takes a breath, collects his thoughts and lets his head and shoulders drop. He doesn’t want to look at his reflection in the tinted glass. Five years ago the thought of coming to a place like this would never have touched his mind, even in his questionable youth he had always been opposed these places. The risk that they were run unethically was far too great for his conscience. But he was not the man he was five years ago. Since Sokovia he wondered if he had a conscience at all anymore.

He presses the button, and the glass panel slides open.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the room. It’s dimly lit, faint blue and purple lights shine against the walls that are lined with the same dark, opaque glass as outside. There’s a chic, white sofa against the left wall, and against the right is a simple bed.

Sat atop it, kneeling with her thighs spread and covered by a short black night dress is the prettiest girl he’s seen in years.

 - 

He’s handsome, is the first thing you think when the glass door slides open.

It’s rare that you ever receive a client you’re inclined to call attractive, even the most conventionally attractive men that come here bring with them such a foul soul that it taints their appearance. Not this man, though.

He’s smartly dressed in dark trousers and a well-fitting grey jumper. His hair is styled nicely, it’s either brown or very dark blond (you can’t tell in the coloured lighting). He carries himself well, but after a year of working here you’ve grown accustomed to seeing through the façade’s of your clients. He’s apprehensive. Unsure if he belongs here. Hesitant.

“You must be Helmut. It’s nice to meet you,”

You try to make your voice sound soft and gentle, cocking your head to one side to beckon him in. You get the sense he wants something authentic, or at least that’s what his profile had said when it was sent through from reception moments ago. No porn-star moans or obscene pick-up lines tonight.

He collects himself, and the harsh line his lips have been pressed into relaxes as he enters the room. The glass panel slides shut, trapping the two of you in the bubble of the booth. It’s tranquil. You think he must need that.

“And you must be ‘Serenity’” He responds, crossing the room to sit on the sofa. His eyes don’t leave you as your ‘name’ rolls of his tongue with amusement. You can hear the next question in your head before he even opens his mouth again.

“So what’s your real name?”

They always ask you that. They ask every doll that. The clients are desperate to form a connection with you. To brag to their friends that they have a special relationship with a doll at clouds. You’ve never told anyone your real name before, it’s against company policy. Clouds attracts the rich of Madripoor, and rich in Madripoor usually means dangerous. It’s for your own protection more than anything else, you really don’t need work following you home.

You picked a name the day you were hired and that’s the name every client has known you by. This man will be no different. You begin your usual response:

“A name is a name, Helmut. A title. An advertisement of who you are. I want my name to tell you exactly who I am, so that you can know everything about me. I want to bring you peace.”

He adjusts his hips and rests his arms across the back of the sofa. He regards you quietly, and you’re positive he can tell that your response was a deflection. His eyes squint slightly, and a flash of humour appears in his dark pupils.

“Well I hardly think that’s fair. You get to call me by my name, but I don’t get to know yours?” He lets out a huff of laughter “Actually, I don’t think I’ll let you use my name. We should be equals, should we not?”

You admit you’re enjoying this. The smooth accent and playful tone of his voice keeps you interested. You swing your feet around so that you’re sat facing him on the bed, reclining back on your palms to match his casual stance.

“What should I call you then?”

“You said a name is just a title. So then my title can become my name. You can call be Baron, Serenity” He says your name like it’s some sort of inside joke, taunting you to give up and tell him who you really are. You won’t be so easily swayed.

“So what’s a Baron doing in Madripoor then?” You say with genuine curiosity. If it weren’t for the NDA’s you’re forced to sign you would be buzzing to tell the other girls who you’re spending the night with. You can’t imagine that aristocracy visits this place frequently. “And do you drink?”

“I do, thank you” he says, and you hop down from the bed and walk to the low table in front of the sofa that carries a few glasses and a bottle of expensive-looking alcohol. You know he’s looking at the satin hem of the night dress as it tickles to top of your thighs, and when you bend down to pour him a glass, you make sure he gets a tasteful peak at your cleavage.

“I’m here to work, actually.”

Did aristocrats work? You thought they were just for show.

“I’m… translating some documents. It’s taking me a very long time,” He continues, watching intently as you finish preparing his drink.

“A Baron and a translator? Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate” You loop around the table, perching beside him on the sofa and handing him his drink.

“It’s more of a personal project I suppose, but a very important one” he says, accepting the drink with his free hand. The one that rests behind you on the back of the sofa comes up to rest between your shoulder blades. It’s a very gentle touch, just the tips of his fingers making contact with yours skin and moving in a tiny little circle. He’s testing the waters with you, seeing how receptive you are. It’s almost gentlemanly.

“It must mean a great deal to you. We could talk about it, if you like? We can talk about anything you want to,” You reach up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying how he melts into the action.

“Anything but your name?” He shoots you teasing look from the corner of his eye, and you give a little strand of his hair a small playful tug in response.

“Anything but that, Baron”

“Tell me something else about you. Like why you came to Madripoor, I can tell you weren’t born here.”

Jesus you can’t tell if this man is a pest or just being polite. It’s unusual for him to be asking these questions of you, most men would usually have you on your knees by now. You hum and give him one last stroke down the back of his neck, before climbing off the sofa and walking back towards the bed.

“Very perceptive. I’m not from Madripoor, no,” you crawl onto the bed, taking your time so that the baron can take a good look at where the night dress rides up over the curve of your ass “but we’ve only just met, and only my friends get to know my life story.”

You settle yourself comfortably at the top of the bed, lying down and propped up on your elbows so you can maintain the measured look he’s giving you.

“Perhaps I should come over there and get to know you better” he says calmly, with the barest hint of a suggestive undertone.

Thank god he’s dropped the topic of your true identity. You can handle sex; you don’t need an interrogation tonight. Slipping into character you drop your voice to a low whisper and cock your eyebrow.

“Perhaps you should”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile as he accepts your little challenge. In one fluid motion he downs the rest of his drink, places the empty glass back on the table, and rises to walk towards the bed. No, he stalks towards the bed with a natural swagger that admittedly makes your chest squeeze tight.

Within a second he’s onto you, slotting himself between your parted thighs and pressing his lips to yours. Your baron kisses well, is the only thing you’re capable of thinking as he uses his body to push you down into the cushions. One of his hands slides up your body, skimming across your neck before coming to rest below your jaw. He doesn’t squeeze, just gently holds you in place so that he can kiss you how he pleases.

After a moment he tilts your head up slightly, pausing the kiss so he can look down at you. You reckon you look a picture of arousal, pupils blown and cheeks flushes as you catch your breath. Your baron seems to agree; he’s looking at you like the cat that caught the canary, and you shiver when his grip gets just a fraction tighter on your jaw.

“So pretty,” he praises quietly as he dips down to skim his lips over your pulse.

The tender pressure makes you whine and arch up beneath him and he acknowledges you with a hum and a hand on your breast. As he continues his assault on your neck, the free hand on your chest squeezes the flesh softly, finding your nipple beneath the silky fabric and circling it with his thumb.

When it pebbles to his satisfaction he pulls away and you keen at the loss of contact. He tuts, pulling down the straps of your nightgown and peeling it down below your chest, shuffling down slightly so that his face is level with your now exposed torso.

He breathes out against your nipple before latching onto it, with one hand he squeezes your neglected breast and the other slides from its place on your jaw to the base of your neck. Again he doesn’t squeeze, just exerts a level of control that lets you know where he wants you. If you wanted to you could break free, but why would you want that? The way his thumb begins to circle your pulse point has you practically melting into the bed, the thought of telling him to stop can barely manifest in your mind.

You reach down to dig your fingers into the baron’s back, instead only making contact with his expensive-feeling jumper. You huff in disappointment and pull him from where he’s entertaining himself with your tits, meeting his hazy eyes that are riddled with confusion.

“I thought we were trying to get familiar with one another?” you ask, and his eyebrows pinch in confusion “How are we supposed to do that when you’ve got so much between us?”

The baron’s face melts in amusement, and he reluctantly pulls himself away from you to pull the jumper off and start undressing fully. You take a moment to catch your breath, watching him peel away his clothes to reveal his impressive body. He’s slender but impeccably well-toned, his torso is covered by a light dusting of hair that leads your eyes down to the impressive bulge in his underwear.

Tonight should be very entertaining.

Your sit up, reaching out to run your hand down his chest but before you can begin to pull at the waistband of his underwear, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

“I don’t know where you think you were going, but I was quite enjoying myself” he says roguishly. He gathers both of your wrists into one hand and pins you pack against the bed, with both hands restrained you have no choice but to let him bury hid face into your neck again.

This time he uses his free hand to skim along the inside of your thigh, getting high enough that you think he’ll reach the apex between your legs but instead he trails his fingers back down towards your knee again.

You whine in frustration as he continues his cycle of teasing up and down your leg, he ignores you until you tug against his grip on your wrists. He makes a low noise and quickly tightens his hold on you. The sudden movement sends a chill down your spine, and for the first time in a long while, you feel genuinely inclined to beg a man.

“Please-” you breathe out shakily “I want-”

Your voice cuts off suddenly as his hand moves boldly to cup your pussy. You can hear how embarrassingly wet you are as his fingers move through your folds, and he hums happily when he finds your clit with his thumb. Slowly he circles it, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you wriggling in his grip.

“This? Is this what you want?” he asks, and his voice has dropped at least another octave.

You shake your head furiously. Right now this is just not enough, you can feel his dick rubbing against your leg and you’re beyond desperate to have him fuck you open with it.

“No?” he says with feigned innocence “What is it that you want then?”

“More” is all you can get out “I want you in me. I’m wet enough, see?”

Your baron seems unconvinced. He circles a finger around your entrance before pushing in, rocking it gently inside you as he tries to decide if he thinks you’re really ready. He continues for a moment more before adding a second finger, now with two fingers stuffed in you and his thumb still working on your clit you’re almost ready to cum. It’s making you desperate, and it doesn’t help at all when he buries his face in your tits again.

Finally he lets your wrists go and immediately your hands grab at whatever part of him they can, eventually you settle with gripping his shoulder and hair as you try desperately to urge him to fuck you. He gets you right to the edge, literal moments away from finishing on his fingers when he pulls them away from you with an obscenely wet noise.

You let out a frustrated, desperate whine as he separates from you. He looks down at you with satisfaction as he takes in your flustered state.

“Stay still, you’ll get what you want” he says, and he reaches for his pants to retrieve a condom. It takes him a minute to pull himself free of his underwear and put the condom on. In your desperate state it feels like an eternity.

He positions himself between your legs, lifting the hem of the nightdress so he can get a good view of your pussy whilst he lines himself up. He pauses before he presses forward, looking up at you for any last-minute hesitation.

You nod your consent instantly, not trusting yourself to get any words out.

When he pushes in you think you might cum from that alone. He’s a perfect size, long enough that you feel as though you could feel him in your belly. When he finally bottoms out you can’t help but squeeze him tight, and he slumps over you, his face tucked into the side of your neck and swears in a language you don’t recognise. He nudges his hips forward as if to get deeper than he already is. The both of you gasp out at the sensation and he repeats it a few times, just the tiniest movements of his hips that causes him to rub against something deep inside you.

He pushes himself up on his forearms so that he can get a good look at you. In turn, you get to see the state of him as well – his eyes are impossibly dark and glazed over with something wildly lustful, his once pristine hair hangs dishevelled over his reddened forehead. Your baron’s lip curls wickedly as he sets a punishing pace, pushing you deeper into the sheets. It feels like he’s trying to fuck you through the bed.

His previous teasing had done a real number on you, and within minutes you’re moments away from cumming. You don’t think you could get much out of your mouth other than pathetic little whimpers right now, instead you reach up and pull the baron down for a deep kiss, one that he melts into fully.

When you do cum it’s fucking incredible. You’d never use a word that strong to describe a client before, but your baron brings with him many firsts for you. You cry out into his mouth as he picks up the pace to ride you through your high, your fingers dig into his shoulder so tightly you wonder if you’ve drawn blood. If you have, he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything it spurs him on as he fucks you to the point of oversensitivity.

He finishes just as you think you can’t handle anymore. His hips stutter momentarily, and tremors run down his spine in waves. The entire time he’s rambling in a foreign tongue against your skin until his pants of exhaustion overtake his ability to speak.

Your baron collapses on top of you but you hardly have the brainpower to care that he’s crushing you. Instead you reach up to run your fingers through his hair, listening to him as he catches his breath against your chest.

You yourself are struggling to even out your breathing, it feels as though you’ve run a marathon and the man on top of you seems thoroughly amused by that.

“Come now,” he says as he smooths a hand up your side “I wasn’t that good.”

You can hardly help the genuine laugh that escapes you.

“Humility doesn’t look good on you baron.”

The man in question huffs out a laugh before peeling himself away from your sweat-slicked body.

“I suppose I should make myself scarce. I imagine you have other, much more interesting clients to see tonight” he says, moving to sit on the side of the bed.

“You can stay and talk if you want, it’s entirely up to you. You paid for this, after all.” You say, secretly hoping he’ll stay for just a minute longer. You don’t intend to entertain anyone else tonight, but part of you is quite intrigued by your newest client.

“Well in that case I have one final question I’d like to ask” he says as he slowly begins to dress himself again.

“Ask away.”

Once his trousers are securely over his hips he pauses to look at you. There’s a soft expression on his face, as if he already knows he’s not going to get the answer he wants.

“What’s your real name?”

You really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s asked again. Truthfully, it’s not the question itself that’s thrown you, it’s how tempted you are to answer it. His voice is so compelling at the moment that your name nearly springs from your tongue without you noticing.

“Oh baron,” you say quietly “you know I can’t tell you that.”

His lips press together in acceptance, and for a second his eyes leave yours. As he begins to get ready again, he gives his response.

“It was worth a shot.”

[shortnotsweet]

Bakudeku: A Non-Comprehensive Dissection of the Exploitation of Working Bodies, the Murder of Annoying Children, and a Rivals-to-Lovers Complex

I. Bakudeku in Canon, And Why Anti’s Need to Calm the Fuck Down

II. Power is Power: the Brain-Melting Process of Normalization and Toxic Masculinity

III. How to Kill Middle Schoolers, and Why We Should

IV. Parallels in Abuse, EnemiesRivals-to-Lovers, and the Necessity of Redemption ft. ATLA’s Zuko

V. Give it to Me Straight. It’s Homophobic.

VI. Love in Perspective, from the East v. West

VII. Stuck in the Sludge, the Past, and Season One

Disclaimer

It needs to be said that there is definitely a place for disagreement, discourse, debate, and analysis: that is a sign of an active fandom that’s heavily invested, and not inherently a bad thing at all. Considering the amount of source material we do have (from the manga, to the anime, to the movies, to the light novels, to the official art), there are going to be warring interpretations, and that’s inevitable.

I started watching and reading MHA pretty recently, and just got into the fandom. I was weary for a reason, and honestly, based on what I’ve seen, I’m still weary now. I’ve seen a lot of anti posts, and these are basically my thoughts. This entire thing is in no way comprehensive, and it’s my own opinion, so take it with a grain of salt. If I wanted to be thorough about this, I would’ve included manga panels, excerpts from the light novel, shots from the anime, links to other posts/essays/metas that have inspired this, etc. but I’m tired and not about that life right now, so, this is what it is. This is poorly organized, but maybe I’ll return to fix it.

Let’s begin.

Bakudeku in Canon, And Why Anti’s Need to Calm the Fuck Down

There are a lot of different reasons, that can be trivial as you like, to ship or not to ship two (or more) characters. It could be based purely off of character design, proximity, aversion to another ship, or hypotheticals. And I do think that it’s totally valid if someone dislikes the ship or can’t get on board with his character because to them, it does come across as abuse, and the implications make them uncomfortable or, or it just feels unhealthy. If that is your takeaway, and you are going to stick to your guns, the more power to you.

But Bakudeku’s relationship has canonically progressed to the point where it’s not the emotionally (or physically) abusive clusterfuck some people portray it to be, and it’s cheap to assume that it would be, based off of their characterizations as middle schoolers. Izuku intentionally opens the story as a naive little kid who views the lens of the Hero society through rose colored glasses and arguably wants nothing more than assimilation into that society; Bakugou is a privileged little snot who embodies the worst and most hypocritical beliefs of this system. Both of them are intentionally proven wrong. Both are brainwashed, as many little children are, by the propaganda and societal norms that they are exposed to. Both of their arcs include unlearning crucial aspects of the Hero ideology in order to become true heroes.

I will personally never simp for Bakugou because for the longest time, I couldn't help but think of him as a little kid on the playground screaming at the top of his lungs because someone else is on the swingset. He’s red in the face, there are probably veins popping out of his neck, he’s losing it. It’s easy to see why people would prefer Tododeku to Bakudeku.

Even now, seeing him differently, I still personally wouldn’t date Bakugou, especially if I had other options. Why? I probably wouldn’t want to date any of the guys who bullied me, especially because I think that schoolyard bullying, even in middle school, affected me largely in a negative way and created a lot of complexes I’m still trying to work through. I haven’t built a better relationship with them, and I’m not obligated to. Still, I associate them with the kind of soft trauma that they inflicted upon me, and while to them it was probably impersonal, to me, it was an intimate sort of attack that still affects me. That being said, that is me. Those are my personal experiences, and while they could undoubtedly influence how I interpret relationships, I do not want to project and hinder my own interpretation of Deku.

The reality is that Deku himself has an innate understanding of Bakugou that no one else does; I mention later that he seems to understand his language, implicitly, and I do stand by that. He understands what it is he’s actually trying to say, often why he’s saying it, and while others may see him as wimpy or unable to stand up for himself, that’s simply not true. Part of Deku’s characterization is that he is uncommonly observant and empathetic; I’m not denying that Bakugou caused harm or inflicted damage, but infantilizing Deku and preaching about trauma that’s not backed by canon and then assuming random people online excuse abuse is just...the leap of leaps, and an actual toxic thing to do. I’ve read fan works where Bakugou is a bully, and that’s all, and has caused an intimate degree of emotional, mental, and physical insecurity from their middle school years that prevents their relationship from changing, and that’s for the better. I’m not going to argue and say that it’s not an interesting take, or not valid, or has no basis, because it does. Its basis is the character that Bakugou was in middle school, and the person he was when he entered UA.

Not only is Bakugou — the current Bakugou, the one who has accumulated memories and experiences and development — not the same person he was at the beginning of the story, but Deku is not the same person, either. Maybe who they are fundamentally, at their core, stays the same, but at the beginning and end of any story, or even their arcs within the story, the point is that characters will undergo change, and that the reader will gain perspective.

“You wanna be a hero so bad? I’ve got a time-saving idea for you. If you think you’ll have a quirk in your next life...go take a swan dive off the roof!”

Yes. That is a horrible thing to tell someone, even if you are a child, even if you don’t understand the implications, even if you don’t mean what it is you are saying. Had someone told me that in middle school, especially given our history and the context of our interactions, I don’t know if I would ever have forgiven them.

Here’s the thing: I’m not Deku. Neither is anyone reading this. Deku is a fictional character, and everyone we know about him is extrapolated from source material, and his response to this event follows:

“Idiot! If I really jumped, you’d be charged with bullying me into suicide! Think before you speak!”

I think it’s unfair to apply our own projections as a universal rather than an interpersonal interpretation; that’s not to say that the interpretation of Bakudeku being abusive or having unbalanced power dynamics isn’t valid, or unfounded, but rather it’s not a universal interpretation, and it’s not canon. Deku is much more of a verbal thinker; in comparison, Bakugou is a visual one, at least in the format of the manga, and as such, we get various panels demonstrating his guilt, and how deep it runs. His dialogue and rapport with Deku has undeniably shifted, and it’s very clear that the way they treat each other has changed from when they were younger. Part of Bakugou’s growth is him gaining self awareness, and eventually, the strength to wield that. He knows what a fucked up little kid he was, and he carries the weight of that.

“At that moment, there were no thoughts in my head. My body just moved on its own.”

There’s a part of me that really, really disliked Bakugou going into it, partially because of what I’d seen and what I’d heard from a limited, outside perspective. I felt like Bakugou embodied the toxic masculinity (and to an extent, I still believe that) and if he won in some way, that felt like the patriarchy winning, so I couldn't help but want to muzzle and leash him before releasing him into the wild.

The reality, however, of his character in canon is that it isn’t very accurate to assume that he would be an abusive partner in the future, or that Midoryia has not forgiven him to some extent already, that the two do not care about each other or are singularly important, that they respect each other, or that the narrative has forgotten any of this.

Don’t mistake me for a Bakugou simp or apologist. I’m not, but while I definitely could also see Tododeku (and I have a soft spot for them, too, their dynamic is totally different and unique, and Todoroki is arguably treated as the tritagonist) and I’m ambivalent about Izuocha (which is written as cannoncially romantic) I do believe that canonically, Bakugou and Deku are framed as soulmates/character foils, Sasuke + Naruto, Kageyama + Hinata style. Their relationship is arguably the focus of the series. That’s not to undermine the importance or impact of Deku’s relationships with other characters, and theirs with him, but in terms of which one takes priority, and which one this all hinges on?

The manga is about a lot of things, yes, but if it were to be distilled into one relationship, buckle up, because it’s the Bakudeku show.

Power is Power: the Brain-Melting Process of Normalization and Toxic Masculinity

One of the ways in which the biopolitical prioritization of Quirks is exemplified within Hero society is through Quirk marriages. Endeavor partially rationalizes the abuse of his family through the creation of a child with the perfect quirk, a child who can be molded into the perfect Hero. People with powerful, or useful abilities, are ranked high on the hierarchy of power and privilege, and with a powerful ability, the more opportunities and avenues for success are available to them.

For the most part, Bakugou is a super spoiled, privileged little rich kid who is born talented but is enabled for his aggressive behavior and, as a child, cannot move past his many internalized complexes, treats his peers like shit, and gets away with it because the hero society he lives in either has this “boys will be boys” mentality, or it’s an example of the way that power, or Power, is systematically prioritized in this society. The hero system enables and fosters abusers, people who want power and publicity, and people who are genetically predisposed to have advantages over others. There are plenty of good people who believe in and participate in this system, who want to be good, and who do good, but that doesn’t change the way that the hero society is structured, the ethical ambiguity of the Hero Commission, and the way that Heroes are but pawns, idols with machine guns, used to sell merch to the public, to install faith in the government, or the current status quo, and reinforce capitalist propaganda. Even All Might, the epitome of everything a Hero should be, is drained over the years, and exists as a concept or idea, when in reality he is a hollow shell with an entire person inside, struggling to survive. Hero society is functionally dependent on illusion.

In Marxist terms: There is no truth, there is only power.

Although Bakugou does change, and I think that while he regrets his actions, what is long overdue is him verbally expressing his remorse, both to himself and Deku. One might argue that he’s tried to do it in ways that are compatible with his limited emotional range of expression, and Deku seems to understand this language implicitly.

I am of the opinion that the narrative is building up to a verbal acknowledgement, confrontation, and subsequent apology that only speaks what has gone unspoken.

That being said, Bakugou is a great example of the way that figures of authority (parents, teachers, adults) and institutions both in the real world and this fictional universe reward violent behavior while also leaving mental and emotional health — both his own and of the people Bakugou hurts — unchecked, and part of the way he lashes out at others is because he was never taught otherwise.

And by that, I’m referring to the ways that are to me, genuinely disturbing. For example, yelling at his friends is chill. But telling someone to kill themselves, even casually and without intent and then misinterpreting everything they do as a ploy to make you feel weak because you're projecting? And having no teachers stop and intervene, either because they are afraid of you or because they value the weight that your Quirk can benefit society over the safety of children? That, to me, is both real and disturbing.

Not only that, but his parents (at least, Mitsuki), respond to his outbursts with more outbursts, and while this is likely the culture of their home and I hesitate to call it abusive, I do think that it contributed to the way that he approaches things. Bakugou as a character is very complex, but I think that he is primarily an example of the way that the Hero System fails people.

I don’t think we can write off the things he’s done, especially using the line of reasoning that “He didn’t mean it that way”, because in real life, children who hurt others rarely mean it like that either, but that doesn’t change the effect it has on the people who are victimized, but to be absolutely fair, I don’t think that the majority of Bakudeku shippers, at least now, do use that line of reasoning. Most of them seem to have a handle on exactly how fucked up the Hero society is, and exactly why it fucks up the people embedded within that society.

The characters are positioned in this way for a reason, and the discoveries made and the development that these characters undergo are meant to reveal more about the fictional world — and, perhaps, our world — as the narrative progresses.

The world of the Hero society is dependent, to some degree, on biopolitics. I don’t think we have enough evidence to suggest that people with Quirks or Quirkless people place enough identity or placement within society to become equivalent to marginalized groups, exactly, but we can draw parallels to the way that Deku and by extent Quirkless people are viewed as weak, a deviation, or disabled in some way. Deviants, or non-productive bodies, are shunned for their inability to perform ideal labor. While it is suggested to Deku that he could become a police officer or pursue some other occupation to help people, he believes that he can do the most positive good as a Hero. In order to be a Hero, however, in the sense of a career, one needs to have Power.

Deviation from the norm will be punished or policed unless it is exploitable; in order to become integrated into society, a deviant must undergo a process of normalization and become a working, exploitable body. It is only through gaining power from All Might that Deku is allowed to assimilate from the margins and into the upper ranks of society; the manga and the anime give the reader enough perspective, context, and examples to allow us to critique and deconstruct the society that is solely reliant on power.

Through his societal privileges, interpersonal biases, internalized complexes, and his subsequent unlearning of these ideologies, Bakugou provides examples of the way that the system simultaneously fails and indoctrinates those who are targeted, neglected, enabled by, believe in, and participate within the system.

Bakudeku are two sides of the same coin. We are shown visually that the crucial turning point and fracture in their relationship is when Bakugou refuses to take Deku’s outstretched hand; the idea of Deku offering him help messes with his adolescent perspective in that Power creates a hierarchy that must be obeyed, and to be helped is to be weak is to be made a loser.

Largely, their character flaws in terms of understanding the hero society are defined and entangled within the concept of power. Bakugou has power, or privilege, but does not have the moral character to use it as a hero, and believes that Power, or winning, is the only way in which to view life. Izuku has a much better grasp on the way in which heroes wield power (their ideologies can, at first, be differentiated as winning vs. saving), and is a worthy successor because of this understanding, and of circumstance. However, in order to become a Hero, our hero must first gain the Power that he lacks, and learn to wield it.

As the characters change, they bridge the gaps of their character deficiencies, and are brought closer together through character parallelism.

Two sides of the same coin, an outstretched hand.

They are better together.

How to Kill Middle Schoolers, and Why We Should

I think it’s fitting that in the manga, a critical part of Bakugou’s arc explicitly alludes to killing the middle school version of himself in order to progress into a young adult. In the alternative covers Horikoshi released, one of them was a close up of Bakugou in his middle school uniform, being stabbed/impaled, with blood rolling out of his mouth. Clearly this references the scene in which he sacrifices himself to save Deku, on a near-instinctual level.

To me, this only cements Horikoshi’s intent that middle school Bakugou must be debunked, killed, discarded, or destroyed in order for Bakugou the hero to emerge, which is why people who do actually excuse his actions or believe that those actions define him into young adulthood don’t really understand the necessity for change, because they seem to imply that he doesn’t need/cannot reach further growth, and there doesn’t need to be a separation between the Bakugou who is, at heart, volatile and repressed the angry, and the Bakugou who sacrifices himself, a hero who saves people.

Plot twist: there does need to be a difference. Further plot twist: there is a difference.

In sacrificing himself for Deku, Bakugou himself doesn't die, but the injury is fatal in the sense that it could've killed him physically and yet symbolizes the selfish, childish part of him that refused to accept Deku, himself, and the inevitability of change. In killing those selfish remnants, he could actually become the kind of hero that we the reader understand to be the true kind.

That’s why I think that a lot of the people who stress his actions as a child without acknowledging the ways he has changed, grown, and tried to fix what he has broken don’t really get it, because it was always part of his character arc to change and purposely become something different and better. If the effects of his worst and his most childish self stick with you more, and linger despite that, that’s okay. But distilling his character down to the wrong elements doesn’t get you the bare essentials; what it gets you is a skewed and shallow version of a person. If you’re okay with that version, that is also fine.

But you can’t condemn others who aren’t fine with that incomplete version, and to become enraged that others do not see him as you do is childish.

Bakugou’s change and the emphasis on that change is canon.

Parallels in Abuse, EnemiesRivals-to-Lovers, and the Necessity of Redemption ft. ATLA’s Zuko

In real life, the idea that “oh, he must bully you because he likes you” is often used as a way to brush aside or to excuse the action of bullying itself, as if a ‘secret crush’ somehow negates the effects of bullying on the victim or the inability of the bully to properly process and manifest their emotions in certain ways. It doesn’t. It often enables young boys to hurt others, and provides figures of authority to overlook the real source of schoolyard bullying or peer review. The “secret crush”, in real life, is used to undermine abuse, justify toxic masculinity, and is essentially used as a non-solution solution.

A common accusation is that Bakudeku shippers jump on the pairing because they romanticize pairing a bully and a victim together, or believe that the only way for Bakugou to atone for his past would be to date Midoryia in the future. This may be true for some people, in which case, that’s their own preference, but based on my experience and what I’ve witnessed, that’s not the case for most.

The difference being is that as these are characters, we as readers or viewers are meant to analyze them. Not to justify them, or to excuse their actions, but we are given the advantage of the outsider perspective to piece their characters together in context, understand why they are how they are, and witness them change; maybe I just haven’t been exposed to enough of the fandom, but no one (I’ve witnessed) treats the idea that “maybe Bakugou has feelings he can’t process or understand and so they manifest in aggressive and unchecked ways'' as a solution to his inability to communicate or process in a healthy way, rather it is just part of the explanation of his character, something is needs to — and is — working through. The solution to his middle school self is not the revelation of a “teehee, secret crush”, but self-reflection, remorse, and actively working to better oneself, which I do believe is canonically reflected, especially as of recently.

In canon, they are written to be partners, better together than apart, and I genuinely believe that one can like the Bakudeku dynamic not by route of romanticization but by observation.

I do think we are meant to see parallels between him and Endeavor; Endeavor is a high profile abuser who embodies the flaws and hypocrisy of the hero system. Bakugou is a schoolyard bully who emulates and internalizes the flaws of this system as a child, likely due to the structure of the society and the way that children will absorb the propaganda they are exposed to; the idea that Quirks, or power, define the inherent value of the individual, their ability to contribute to society, and subsequently their fundamental human worth. The difference between them is the fact that Endeavor is the literal adult who is fully and knowingly active within a toxic, corrupt system who forces his family to undergo a terrifying amount of trauma and abuse while facing little to no consequences because he knows that his status and the values of their society will protect him from those consequences. In other words, Endeavor is the threat of what Bakugou could have, and would have, become without intervention or genuine change.

Comparisons between characters, as parallels or foils, are tricky in that they imply but cannot confirm sameness. Having parallels with someone does not make them the same, by the way, but can serve to illustrate contrasts, or warnings. Harry Potter, for example, is meant to have obvious parallels with Tom Riddle, with similar abilities, and tragic upbringings. That doesn’t mean Harry grows up to become Lord Voldemort, but rather he helps lead a cross-generational movement to overthrow the facist regime. Harry is offered love, compassion, and friends, and does not embrace the darkness within or around him. As far as moldy old snake men are concerned, they do not deserve a redemption arc because they do not wish for one, and the truest of change only occurs when you actively try to change.

To be frank, either way, Bakugou was probably going to become a good Hero, in the sense that Endeavor is a ‘good’ Hero. Hero capitalized, as in a pro Hero, in the sense that it is a career, an occupation, and a status. Because of his strong Quirk, determination, skill, and work ethic, Bakugou would have made a good Hero. Due to his lack of character, however, he was not on the path to become a hero; defender of the weak, someone who saves people to save people, who is willing to make sacrifices detrimental to themselves, who saves people out of love.

It is necessary for him to undergo both a redemption arc and a symbolic death and rebirth in order for him to follow the path of a hero, having been inspired and prompted by Deku.

I personally don’t really like Endeavor’s little redemption arc, not because I don’t believe that people can change or that they shouldn't at least try to atone for the atrocities they have committed, but because within any narrative, a good redemption arc is important if it matters; what also matters is the context of that arc, and whether or not it was needed. For example, in ATLA, Zuko’s redemption arc is widely regarded as one of the best arcs in television history, something incredible. And it is. That shit fucks. In a good way.

It was confirmed that Azula was also going to get a redemption arc, had Volume 4 gone on as planned, and it was tentatively approached in the comics, which are considered canon. She is an undeniably bad person (who is willing to kill, threaten, exploit, and colonize), but she is also a child, and as viewers, we witness and recognize the factors that contributed to her (debatable) sociopathy, and the way that the system she was raised in failed her. Her family failed her; even Uncle Iroh, the wise mentor who helps guide Zuko to see the light, is willing to give up on her immediately, saying that she’s “crazy” and needs to be “put down”. Yes, it’s comedic, and yes, it’s pragmatic, but Azula is fourteen years old. Her mother is banished, her father is a psychopath, and her older brother, from her perspective, betrayed and abandoned her. She doesn’t have the emotional support that Zuko does; she exploits and controls her friends because it’s all she’s been taught to do; she says herself, her “own mother thought [she] was a monster; she was right, of course, but it still [hurts]”. A parent who does not believe in you, or a parent that uses you and will hurt you, is a genuine indicator of trauma.

The writers understood that both Zuko and Azula deserved redemption arcs. One was arguably further gone than the other, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are both children, products of their environment, who have the time, motive, and reason to change.

In contrast, you know who wouldn’t have deserved a redemption arc? Ozai. That simply would not have been interesting, wouldn’t have served the narrative well, and honestly, is not needed, thematically or otherwise. Am I comparing Ozai to Endeavor? Basically, yes. Fuck those guys. I don’t see a point in Endeavor’s little “I want to be a good dad now” arc, and I think that we don’t need to sympathize with characters in order to understand them or be interested in them. I want Touya/Dabi to expose his abuse, for his career to crumble, and then for him to die.

If they are not challenging the system that we the viewer are meant to question, and there is no thematic relevance to their redemption, is it even needed?

On that note, am I saying that Bakugou is the equivalent to Zuko? No, lmao. Definitely not. They are different characters with different progressions and different pressures. What I am saying is that good redemption arcs shouldn’t be handed out like candy to babies; it is the quality, rather than the quantity, that makes a redemption arc good. In terms of the commentary of the narrative, who needs a redemption arc, who is deserving, and who does it make sense to give one to?

In this case, Bakugou checks those boxes. It was always in the cards for him to change, and he has. In fact, he’s still changing.

Give it to Me Straight. It’s Homophobic.

There does seem to be an urge to obsessively gender either Bakugou or Deku, in making Deku the ultra-feminine, stereotypically hyper-sexualized “woman” of the relationship, with Bakugou becoming similarly sexualized but depicted as the hyper-masculine bodice ripper. On some level, that feels vaguely homophobic if not straight up misogynistic, in that in a gay relationship there’s an urge to compel them to conform under heteronormative stereotypes in order to be interpreted as real or functional. On one hand, I will say that in a lot of cases it feels like more of an expression of a kink, or fetishization and subsequent expression of internalized misogyny, at least, rather than a genuine exploration of the complexity and power imbalances of gender dynamics, expression, and boundaries.

That being said, I don’t think that that problematic aspect of shipping is unique to Bakudeku, or even to the fandom in general. We’ve all read fan work or see fanart of most gay ships in a similiar manner, and I think it’s a broader issue to be addressed than blaming it on a singular ship and calling it a day.

One interpretation of Bakugou’s character is his repression and the way his character functions under toxic masculinity, in a society’s egregious disregard for mental and emotional health (much like in the real world), the horrifying ways in which rage is rationalized or excused due to the concept of masculinity, and the way that characteristics that are associated with femininity — intellect, empathy, anxiety, kindness, hesitation, softness — are seen as stereotypically “weak”, and in men, traditionally emasculating. In terms of the way that the fictional universe is largely about societal priority and power dynamics between individuals and the way that extends to institutions, it’s not a total stretch to guess that gender as a construct is a relevant topic to expand on or at least keep in mind for comparison.

I think that the way in which characters are gendered and the extent to which that is a result of invasive heteronormativity and fetishization is a really important conversation to have, but using it as a case-by-case evolution of a ship used to condemn people isn’t conductive, and at that point, it’s treated as less of a real concern but an issue narrowly weaponised.

Love in Perspective, from the East v. West

Another thing I think could be elaborated on and written about in great detail is the way that the Eastern part of the fandom and the Western part of the fandom have such different perspectives on Bakudeku in particular. I am not going to go in depth with this, and there are many other people who could go into specifics, but just as an overview:

The manga and the anime are created for and targeted at a certain audience; our take on it will differ based on cultural norms, decisions in translation, understanding of the genre, and our own region-specific socialization. This includes the way in which we interpret certain relationships, the way they resonate with us, and what we do and do not find to be acceptable. Of course, this is not a case-by-case basis, and I’m sure there are plenty of people who hold differing beliefs within one area, but speaking generally, there is a reason that Bakudeku is not regarded as nearly as problematic in the East.

Had this been written by a Western creator, marketed primarily to and within the West (for reference, while I am Chinese, but I have lived in the USA for most of my life, so my own perspective is undoubtedly westernized), I would’ve immediately jumped to make comparisons between the Hero System and the American police system, in that a corrupt, or bastardized system is made no less corrupt for the people who do legitimately want to do good and help people, when that system disproportionately values and targets others while relying on propaganda that society must be reliant on that system in order to create safe communities when in reality it perpetuates just as many issues as it appears to solve, not to mention the way it attracts and rewards violent and power-hungry people who are enabled to abuse their power. I think comparisons can still be made, but in terms of analysis, it should be kept in mind that the police system in other parts of the world do not have the same history, place, and context as it does in America, and the police system in Japan, for example, probably wasn’t the basis for the Hero System.

As much as I do believe in the Death of the Author in most cases, the intent of the author does matter when it comes to content like this, if merely on the basis that it provides context that we may be missing as foreign viewers.

As far as the intent of the author goes, Bakugou is on a route of redemption.

He deserves it. It is unavoidable. That, of course, may depend on where you’re reading this.

Stuck in the Sludge, the Past, and Season One

If there’s one thing, to me, that epitomizes middle school Bakugou, it’s him being trapped in a sludge monster, rescued by his Quirkless childhood friend, and unable to believe his eyes. He clings to the ideology he always has, that Quirkless means weak, that there’s no way that Deku could have grown to be strong, or had the capacity to be strong all along. Bakugou is wrong about this, and continuously proven wrong. It is only when he accepts that he is wrong, and that Deku is someone to follow, that he starts his real path to heroics.

If Bakudeku’s relationship does not appeal to someone for whatever reason, there’s nothing wrong with that. They can write all they want about why they don’t ship it, or why it bothers them, or why they think it’s problematic. If it is legitimately triggering to you, then by all means, avoid it, point it out, etc. but do not undermine the reality of abuse simply to point fingers, just because you don’t like a ship. People who intentionally use the anti tag knowing it’ll show up in the main tag, go after people who are literally minding their own business, and accuse people of supporting abuse are the ones looking for a fight, and they’re annoying as hell because they don’t bring anything to the table. No evidence, no analysis, just repeated projection.

To clarify, I’m referring to a specific kind of shipper, not someone who just doesn’t like a ship, but who is so aggressive about it for absolutely no reason. There are plenty of very lovely people in this fandom, who mind their own business, multipship, or just don’t care.

Calling shippers dumb or braindead or toxic (to clarify, this isn’t targeting any one person I’ve seen, but a collective) based on projections and generalizations that come entirely from your own impression of the ship rather than observation is...really biased to me, and comes across as uneducated and trigger happy, rather than constructive or helpful in any way.

I’m not saying someone has to ship anything, or like it, in order to be a ‘good’ participant. But inserting derogatory material into a main tag, and dropping buzzwords with the same tired backing behind it without seeming to understand the implications of those words or acknowledging the development, pacing, and intentional change to the characters within the plot is just...I don’t know, it comes across as redundant, to me at least, and very childish. Aggressive. Toxic. Problematic. Maybe the real toxic shippers were the ones who bitched and moaned along the way. They’re like little kids, stuck in the past, unable to visualize or recognize change, and I think that’s a real shame because it’s preventing them from appreciating the story or its characters as it is, in canon.

But that’s okay, really. To each their own. Interpretations will vary, preferences differ, perspectives are not uniform. There is no one truth. There are five seasons of the show, a feature film, and like, thirty volumes as of this year.

All I’m saying is that if you want to stay stuck in the first season of each character, then that’s what you’re going to get. That’s up to you.

This may be edited or revised.

[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light Chapter 13: Tunnels

A/N: Hey there, long time no see. Left to hyperfixate on Doctor Who for a while, but I’m back on my Fablehaven business. This is a long chapter, it probably should be two chapters in the final version, but I really wanted to get the tunnels part out. Also, let me know if Kendra’s crafting is making sense and if the dialog for this chapter is working out. Very important chapter. 

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

Chapter 13: Tunnels

 When Kendra woke up the next morning, she knew Ronodin had left. The night before they had eaten dinner separately, and while Kendra focused on reading or staring at the library wall, Ronodin hadn’t come out of his room. She saw him for a moment as she went to bed, but he turned away from her.

It was confirmed by a note on the countertop.

Love,

I hate to leave while we’re fighting, but I have to go handle another errand for our host. Despite your doubts in me and what I implied, I will be back for you, and we’ll go on another little adventure. This is what we have to do until we can go on the bigger adventures together in the sunlight. At the bottom of this note is another design for an amulet you might try, and we’ll both be working to shorten your quarantine.

Ronodin

 And Kendra was back to feeling bad all over again! She went back and forth all yesterday afternoon about apologizing again, promising that Mendigo wouldn’t stop him if he tried to leave, or holding to her words. It was dangerous. He was trying. She was being difficult. She had a right to be difficult.

Sketched at the bottom of the note was a triangle amulet, with crescents open to the left. Inside the triangle was a circle inside an oval with an ‘x’ through it, bisecting in the center of the circle. Because you have to carve intent into every craft, Kendra had to go look up what the symbol meant in the dictionary he gave her.

The triangle was a curse, and the eye a symbol for blindness. Putting it within a circle, she should be able to direct it only at certain people, namely enemies. Did she want to blind her enemies? On the one hand, it was the same principal as her weakness charm. No harm, unless they intended to harm her first. On the other…

As someone who can count on her hands the number of rooms she’s seen, as someone who is alienating the single relationship she has to get a glimpse of sunlight, and as someone whose most prized possession is a landscape painting of the outside, could she take away someone else’s sight?

Maybe she could limit it to cursing people not to see her. An invisibility charm was a lot less problematic than a blinding curse. Combing through the books didn’t give her any insight on how to limit the blindness. In fact, applying Ronodin’s charm as is to a circular amulet wouldn’t even limit duration. It would blind any enemy that looked at her once, permanently.

It would take good craft and magic application to create, and a single mistake would make the magic run out halfway through the first use of the amulet, leaving a person…partially blinded? Blinded in one eye? Temporarily blinded? It didn’t say, so Kendra had to put a couple of concepts together to make a guess. Magic based on gaze was actually the most magic consuming type of enchantment. That was all it said, so Kendra went looking through her little library for more of an explanation.

She managed to clobber together answers from five different books:

All magic is reactionary, a person must interact with the spell caster or the enchanted object for the magic to be applied. The safest place from magic is away from it. Simply seeing something only activates extremely rare curses and enchantments, usually crafted from Dragon parts, because it just required that much magic. Touch is the most common type of curse conduit, and came in the variations. Presence within an enchanted area or physical contact with the item or caster were the most common. Proximity casting is rare, but technically falls between touch and sight in terms of magic usage. There was also gaseous spells, which technically also operated based on touch, but the enchanted matter expanded, so that’s also deserved a special mention.

Kendra was a limitless supply of magic. If she wore a sight-based curse, well crafted to actually create an effect, it would never run out of juice. It would fully infect others every time. It also couldn’t be used against her to the same potential.

If she made that work, there was no way Ronodin could justify keeping her locked up.

But what if…what if her brother felt like he had to harm her in order to get her to go with him? She could blind him, and not even know it. Is that what old Kendra would have wanted, after giving up her memory for him? No. Temporarily feeling too weak to chase her? Fine. Permanently blinding someone with good intentions? Not fine.

Kendra left the books open and went into the hallway.

“Mendigo?” she asked, and the puppet walked in front of her. “How many hours ago did Ronodin leave?”

Mendigo held up two fingers.

“Did he say words as he left out the front door?” she checked.

Mendigo shook his head. Ha. She knew that he had made that up to keep her from stealing the key.

“You have to follow all my orders, correct?” Kendra checked. And the puppet nodded.

“Are there things I can’t tell you to do?”

Mendigo hesitated, then nodded his head.

“Are the things you won’t do if I tell you impossible because Ronodin ordered you not to do them?”

Head shaking no. She couldn’t ask him about the things he couldn’t do, Mendigo couldn’t handle questions more complicated than yes and no.

“If I gave you a paintbrush, would you be able to write out explanations to longer questions?”

Mendigo shook his head no. Drat. Complicated magic, but not an intelligence behind it.

Could she craft a puppet like Mendigo? Probably not, not unless there was some kind of wood that wanted to become a limberjack. None of her books said anything about creating a little bit of intelligence, enough to answer questions and have memory. But maybe if she got good enough. Though why she’d want another when she already had Mendigo made it a moot question. It was probably impossible anyway.  

“Mendigo, the things I could ask you to do and you wouldn’t,” she asked, “is that because they would be impossible for you to do?”

He nodded, and pointed at the front doorknob. Right, she had told him to open the door, and he couldn’t.

“Would you be able to tell me if Ronodin is the one really giving you orders?” Kendra tried.

More hesitation, then slow nodding.

“Has Ronodin ever given you any orders that you followed?”

More nodding. That didn’t actually tell her much. Ronodin was her secret boyfriend, if she had ever once said ‘Mendigo, do what Ronodin says,’ then the answer to this question would be yes.

“Are you currently following any of Ronodin’s orders?” she said. Vigorous no.

“Right,” Kendra said, feeling a little better. “From now on, you are not to follow anyone’s orders but my own, under any circumstance. Will you be able to follow that order?”

Here came the longest pause. Was it because she was asking him a question about the future? Maybe the enchantment didn’t allow for questions like that.

Slowly, Mendigo nodded his head. That was good.

For the rest of the morning, she settled on making a stronger version of her first amulet, temporary weakening based on intent and proximity. Maybe if she made that good enough, she wouldn’t have to permanently blind someone just to be free.

Ronodin showed up in the late afternoon, but didn’t fully enter the apartment, instead choosing to stand in the doorway.

“I see you didn’t take my suggestion,” Ronodin said, nodding at the newly carved amulet in her hand. She had taken a break to grab a snack from the kitchen, and found him there.

“Is this your way of checking in on me without having to let me out?” Kendra asked, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I ran into a snag when arranging your fake death,” Ronodin explained, “A quick video of you telling the person to help me will fix all my problems. I need to go back out again right away —”

Kendra sighed, “You can come in Ronodin, Mendigo won’t stop you from leaving.” Because it felt like the properly dramatic thing to do, she leaned against the hallway wall and slid down until she was sitting. It took a small adjustment, but her current red dress was stretchy, and she managed to do it modestly.

Ronodin came and slid down beside her, and the door swung shut.

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” Kendra said. “it’s not fair, and there’s no excuse, but it’s just so frustrating being locked up like this.”

Ronodin smiled, “Believe me, I know more than you can guess at what that’s like. Think you’re ready to hear why my family hates me?”

Kendra nodded, sitting up straighter.

“Forever ago, I started to question why the Fairy Queen was the ultimate authority on what was good and what was bad in the world. There were five other thrones, and they all play important roles in keeping the world functioning, and they all had different ideas of what was good and right than the Fairy Queen. But mortal wizards sided with her, as did human adventurers, and every kind of mortal agreed: the Fairy kingdom is the brightest light, and we should all strive to their ideals.

“Never mind the naiads and great fairies who kill because mortality is funny. Never mind the imps and the abandoned nipsies. Never mind the philosophies of balance that demand that destruction is just as important as creation to the continuation of the world. Never mind the strength of not picking a side and acting according to your own will and conscious. It sickened me to be part of such an oppressive kingdom that claims the moral right in everything.”

Ronodin drifted into a memory. “What did you do?” Kendra asked, bringing him back.

“I corrupted my horns,” Ronodin said simply, “It took a bit of time and a lot of favors, but I was able to break myself from the Fairy Kingdom. The Queen doesn’t command me anymore. I owe allegiance only to myself, and that’s how I want it to be. Some of those favors contributed to people getting hurt, but I can’t regret it. When I saw you going through something similar, I knew I had to talk to you. And now, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kendra echoed. Sitting in the depths of some underground labyrinth, fighting over prison keys and the greater good, Kendra with no memory of who she was, and Ronodin fighting the same battles he’s fought his entire life over freedom.

Kendra leaned over and touched Ronodin of her own volition. Nothing romantic, not really, just her head resting on his shoulder. A silent show of support.

She sat up after just a minute, because she liked sincere Ronodin much better than flirty or angry Ronodin. (Flabberghasted Ronodin still held top spot).

“Let’s get that video for you,” Kendra said, then paused. “Wait, no one is going to get hurt when faking my death, right?”

Ronodin shook his head and took out his cell phone, “I promise, no humans are going to be harmed in the faking of your death. I just need some help creating a believable fake body.”

Kendra gave a little smile, “Doesn’t it ruin my fake death if someone knows about it and is helping you set it up?”

“Be very vague,” he advised, “The vaguer the better, so that when we do fake your death, even they will be convinced.”

“Okay then, what should I say?” she asked. “Am I talking to someone specific?”

Ronodin pointed the phone camera at her, “No, I’ll probably need to use it on a couple of people. Just tell the viewer to help me. Don’t mention my name directly, if you can help it. The less they know about who you’re with, the safer you’ll be. Ready…three, two one.”

"Oh, um, hi,” Kendra waved at the camera sheepishly, “I’m not sure who is going to have see this, but this guy is actually helping me. If you could lend him a hand, that would be great and I could get out of here much faster. Thank you!”

Ronodin then changed the view of the camera so that they were both in the picture, and gave a little wave. “Anything for Kendra.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek and caught the start of her blush before he stopped recording.

“There, that should be convincing enough,” he said, pocketing his phone.

“I assure you, that kiss was unnecessary,” she said, folding her arms, still red.

He grinned back, “And I assure you, my caterpillar, that it was completely necessary. Another one for the road?”

Kendra stood up rather than let him take another kiss. They had had a good moment, she wasn’t going to let him ruin it. He stood up as well.

“I’ll probably arrive back while you’re asleep,” he said. “Can I see how you’re doing with that amulet? You chose another weakening one?”

“I’m not ready to permanently blind my misguided family,” Kendra said, handing over the amulet.

Ronodin nodded, “Well, you’re progressing. A lot more magic took in this one than your first try. It’s well on the way to making fatigue hit anyone who lays a hand on you.”

Kendra frowned, “I was going for proximity, still not enough focus?”

Ronodin nodded, “The applied magic isn’t strong enough, nor is the craftsmanship. You accidentally cut all the way through one broken link, making one of your four chains whole, and you really oversanded the top. Don’t worry, we’ll work on it some more when I get back. This is a skill like any other, it’s going to take time. You’ll get better at this, I promise.”

Kendra nodded, sighing over the flaws he pointed out. “Is ‘have fun’ the wrong response for the task of faking my death?”

“Oh,” he said grinning, “After the stunts you pulled, I’ll be having lots of fun. Don’t go crazy.”

“You’ll be the first to know if I do.”

Mendigo stepped out of the shadow of the doorway as Ronodin approached, “It’s fine Mendigo. Ronodin can come and go as he pleases.” Kendra said.

Mendigo stepped back and Ronodin stepped past and closed the door without a backward glance.

Knowing she lost the fight, Kendra returned to the craft room. She took that feeling, and turned it into the desire to weaken those that would make her lose with every paint brush stroke.

The second medallion was certainly more than just wood and paint when Kendra was done with it. It felt…expectant. Waiting to fulfill its purpose. A spiked trap, waiting to fall. It was kind of exhilarating, knowing what she had created had force and abilities beyond her.

Kendra had wielded magic.

Kendra looked back over the amulet that Ronodin has suggested she make, then ran to one of the books she had referenced that morning about how to build in a command. A dual check, the person had to want to harm her, and she had to want to curse them. She could make that curse.

All it needed was a second circular border with a notch, and Kendra would have to hold it and intend to activate it before it would blind someone. The pattern was more complex than what she had attempted before, but after all her reading, she felt ready. She switched to a block of wood called stiltseia, because the description indicated that it’s flowers alternatively flashed darkness or bright light each time the flowers bloomed. It felt right for this project.

Kendra worked though lunch, snacking on the bread and cheese that populated their kitchen. This time she made sure that if her carving tool was touching wood, she had her magic gathered and turned towards blinding enemies. The emotions feeding this purpose were vengeance, ambition, and desire to lash out. She didn’t have strong vengeance on her own, but Lady Kuychia wrote the book on vengeance, and Kendra had read it. Towards the end of Lady Kuychia’s life, when her husband found out about her shadow charmer abilities, he accused her of being pure evil, stole their children, and put a ‘kill the witch’ order throughout the entire countryside surrounding them. Vicariously, Lady Kuychia’s burning vengeance took shape in the amulet, to permanently blind those that would harm her.

Lady Kuychia had never gotten vengeance herself, if the handwritten note in the back indicating that the conquistadors pillaging the area around her village had hung her, after she kept putting out the fires meant to burn her. They caught her when she had sacrificed herself in a distraction to give her children a chance to run away from the Portuguese raid. Her husband had spat at her on his way out with their children. The children were captured and killed the day after their mother had died by hanging. Those emotions fueled the carving.

Except the outer notched circle. Following instructions, she focused on her need for control. The battle to control her negative emotions took place outside her body for the first time, as she ordered the power of the amulet into the circle, and into where she said they should stay. There were two different types of magic under her hands, the negative emotions of the amulet and the unyielding neutral control being pushed through her tool. Building a wall around the fire pit.

Kendra added a coat of paint right away, it didn’t feel bound tightly enough without it. This time she selected a dark purple paint, phantom tears and harpy blood. She was going by instinct, but tears also came from the eyes, and harpies seemed like the kind of creature more than happy to take out your eye for taking their blood.

It came out a color so deep, it was almost black, but the purple seemed to highlight around the cuts of her design. She hung it on a hook over the fire, next to the one she had made that morning. Three amulets down. No way to safely test them.

Crafting two amulets was exhausting enough that she wanted to take a nap. First, she had to clean up the mess she had made in the library.

Unfortunately, she had to guess at the places she had taken the books from. She had a vague idea of the organization: magic books left of the fire, histories and biographies on the right, and close to the door were the reference books, but without being able to read all the languages, she was mostly guessing.

Kendra scooted a space a little wider to make room for where she thought a book was supposed to go, and a yellowed piece of paper fell from between the spines. Kendra put the book away and picked up the paper.

To the current occupant,

You’re probably like me, someone whose abilities can only be used voluntarily, so they are keeping you locked up here until they can convince you to do what they want. I have no hope for rescue, and I refuse to do what they ask. I expect to die here, but I have hidden notes written in Silvian, and hidden them around the library to pass the time. If there is nothing else to my life, maybe these notes will make the duration easier for the next occupant.

So far I have discovered a single secret tunnel going out of here. Twist the head of the goblin statue and the wall will become permeable. I won’t survive outside this room, but maybe a prisoner better suited for this environment could use it to their advantage.  

Peace,

Maykrill of Anksonling

 Not what she expected to find, but she was wide awake now. It took a little bit of digging, but the goblin statue was directly diagonal behind her favorite reading chair. What kind of prison cell has a tunnel in it?

The tunnel probably didn’t lead outside, there was no way she was that lucky, but ‘anywhere else’ still ranked pretty high on the places she wanted to be.

The statue was a little taller than her palm, and currently being used as a bookend. The goblin made an icky sound when she twisted the head, like she was killing a living thing, and the small stretch of wall between bookcases became hazy. More gas than solid, and while she had to turn sideways to fit, she made it through just fine.

Unfortunately, she could barely see in front of her face. With how good she’s gotten at hiding her light, there was practically nothing. Should she un-dim herself? It would let things know where she was when she probably didn’t want them to, but she was probably already glowing a little anyway.

Kendra reached out and touched a wall, which immediately lit torches filled with the same blue fire that haunted her own apartment. Hiding wasn’t an option. Should she go back? But what was she waiting for?  Ronodin wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours yet, it was mid-afternoon. She might not get a better chance to figure out more about where she was.

If someone asked her what she was doing, she would just head back. And she’d stay out of the dragon invested grotto. A quick check showed that the wall was completely permeable from this side, meaning she wasn’t going to be locked out. Unless the twisted head operated on a timer. But she wouldn’t be able to test that theory without it being too late to do anything about it. Her best bet would be to make the most of this current foray, but if she didn’t leave for long periods of time and she didn’t get locked out, she might be able to keep this secret until they were cleared to leave this place. She grabbed her second amulet on her way towards the tunnel.

So much for Ronodin winning their battle of wills. Ha.

Kendra crept along the corridor, her bare feet quiet along the ground. It sloped downward, and she thought there was a very subtle switchback before it opened another fuzzy wall. Fuzzy on her side, hopefully solid on the opposite side. Stepping closer, she tried to get a good view of the room before she set foot.

The room seemed large, enormous even. It was dimly lit with sporadic torches, the stone darker than in her hallway. A neutral jean blue darkened into marbled navy, made to look even colder by blue flame. Kendra glanced down at her bare feet, and really hoped the ruby necklace actually warmed her up and didn’t just shut off her perception of cold.

There were large structures scattered about the room, and Kendra narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out the nearest one through the wall.

“I know your mother taught you better manners than to skulk when you know people can sense you, Ronodin. Please do leave me be, I’m not telling you anything else, and this constant taunting is rather irritating, even for you.”

Her eyes adjusted as the boy spoke. Because he was a boy, and based on his voice, couldn’t be much older than her, probably Ronodin’s age. She could catch the outline of bars, bent in around a circle, like a bird cage. Almost appropriate, given that this boy’s voice was the most melodic she had ever heard. Beautiful as Ronodin’s, but in a different way. Clearer, somehow.

“Fine, I will simply annoy you in return. I don’t think High Sylvian has ever graced these halls, join in if you remember the words:

 Follow the wind,

The one that blows of honey and rose

A caress, a brush, steady and slow

Follow the wind to Asamelle

  Trail the stream,

Of cerulean and lily pads green

It bubbles laughter and splashes song

Trail the stream to Asamelle

  Chase the light,

It hovers and flickers at the edge of sight

Whiter than ever beheld, brighter than ever-ever lived,”

The boy’s voice cracked here, and the imperfection in the perfect song made her throat grow tight. When he started singing again, it was just a little more raw, and Kendra had to cover her mouth.

“Chase the light to Asamelle

Chase the light home.

  You followed the wind, and trailed the stream,

chased the light, found the dream,

Home, to Asamelle.

  Moonlight blossoms, viridian forest,

Wave to the naiad, dance to the Djini lyre

Unicorns race and run through the mire

You have come home to Asamelle

  Beneath the tiger sky, follow softly,

Pass tree-grown houses, and beds of petals new

The final rise gives way to Heartsworn

The crowning jewel of Asamelle

  There’s so much light, it’s too bright,

Push forward; the sun was brought to house,

The virtuous beings of Asamelle

  An orchestra of birds, winds, and strings

Elf and Phoenix dance with the grace of falling leaves,

Step forward, part of the dance, the moment, the chance

Asamelle sings you home.”

 A tear slid down her cheek. An honest tear, her payment for the song. It was so full of love and longing; it would have been a sin to not be affected.

“Hang on, Ronodin would never have listened to me sing that,” the boy said, “Who are you?”

Kendra fled back to the library. She banged her hip on her way through the secret passage, and curled up in her armchair.

Her heart was thumping, pounding, her face hot. What was wrong with her? She just…all she needed was a moment to calm down and collect herself. That prisoner revealed a lot, she just needed some space and time from his voice to be able to process it.

The prisoner was so sad. How could anyone keep him jailed away like that? Was Asamelle his home? Why did he ever leave? It sounded beautiful, in a way that looks fragile but is more solid than anything else. A sculpture that appears to be made of glass, but is actually of ice or diamond.

And the part she didn’t want to think about: Ronodin is his jailor. He seemed to know Ronodin quite well, well enough think he could tick Ronodin off. And considering Ronodin’s relationship with his home, that song probably would. The boy thought she was Ronodin, there to question him some more. What could Ronodin want with him? How many more of her schemes would Ronodin tolerate until Kendra was in a cage next to the boy?

If she was trapped down there, would he sing for her if she asked?

No. The goal was to get out to the sunlight, not end up another bird in a cage, one much more unpleasant than her current residence. Why was he in a cage? Ronodin was all about freedom, and making sure people had the space to make their choices. He seemed to hate that Kendra was in a cage, Ronodin wouldn’t imprison someone else without reason.

Things weren’t adding up. Should she wait to confront Ronodin about it? Should she go talk to the trapped boy? Kendra thought she could make another trip before Ronodin came back tonight. Who would be more likely to lie? The boy or Ronodin?

Kendra needed facts. Evidence. Mendigo was under her full control. She had a brother named Seth. She chose to give up her memory. Ronodin loved her. She was fairykind and could use magic to make enchanted objects and see in the dark. Everything else she knew came from Ronodin’s story.

Kendra wanted to talk to the boy. And when Ronodin came back, she didn’t know when he’d leave again. This could be her only chance.

The goblin’s head was back to normal, and she broke the neck again. Kendra also took her second amulet, to weaken those who would harm her, not the blinding one. If the boy had the intention of harming her while she was down there, her curse would strike. Possibly. Not that he could do much from inside a birdcage.

The hallway had darkened, but lit once again as she touched the wall. Surer than the first time, Kendra hurried down the secret tunnel to the half-there wall. Once again, Kendra stopped.

“I know you’re there,” the boy called, much softer this time.

Gathering her courage, Kendra passed through the wall, halfway. She spotted an identical goblin statue, this time part of the brace holding up a torch, and went through all the way.

She walked forward, and a light sprung from inside the cage, small and dim, it illuminated the boy.

He was handsome. Unbelievably handsome. Kendra couldn’t remember seeing the cover of a magazine, and only knew that they depicted pretty people. She felt like she wouldn’t ever need to see a magazine; the boy in front of her screamed that kind of impossible perfection. White hair, blue eyes, unblemished pale skin, cupid’s bow lips that had fallen open at the sight of her.

Too late she remembered that she was currently wearing the stretchy red dress, a ruby medallion, a white cursed amulet (luckily that eyesore was tucked under her neckline), and her hideous orange cardigan. Her hair had been brushed and tied back before she started crafting, and she certainly wasn’t wearing the makeup in her bathroom. She felt a thousand times grungier than she had before.

The boy’s face changed, hardening, and he turned to speak to the general space around them, “Nice try Ronodin. I’m not going to lie and say I expected you to send a fake Kendra,” she jumped when he said her name, “but she really needs some work. This one barely glows, much less radiates like the sun. I’m honestly more surprised you let through such a bad copy.”

“Oh, um, Ronodin didn’t send me, I’m kind of here without him knowing, so I’d appreciate it if we could keep this a secret,” Kendra said nervously, tugging at her cardigan, hoping to turn it into something less ridiculous. “And I can shine brighter, but it seems to bother people, so I dim it.”

The boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “Kendra could never be dim.”

She unclenched the mental fist halfway, removing part of the block on her light, and immediately things became easier to see. One of the nearby cages started grumbling, so she dimmed it again.

He stared at her, and Kendra blushed and shifted under his gaze.

“Um…, I came to ask you some things,” Kendra tried, eyes drawn to the floor. This was not how she expected this to go. “But mostly, I really liked your song. Is Asamelle your home?” That was not what Kendra meant to ask him about, and blushed. Hopefully he couldn’t see in the dim light the way she could.

“Asamelle was the capital city of the old Fairy Realm,” he said, with disbelief. “Kendra, look at me.”

It clicked in her head, “Oh, you know me, don’t you?” she said, doing as he asked and looking at him. “I’m sorry, but I’m having some trouble remembering you at the moment.”

“And I’m still having trouble believing you’re the real Kendra,” he said. “Not knowing who I am isn’t doing you any favors.”

Kendra shrugged, “Don’t take it personally, I don’t know who anyone is. My oldest memory is turning a key that made me lose my memory. My brother Seth was there, and Ronodin, also an angry guy that claimed to be the King of the Dragons, and a magical dwarf. We were all fighting over a stone and my brother kind of won, I think, then I faked my own kidnapping and brought myself here. I really am sorry I don’t remember you.”

He was shaking his head slowly.  

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said, but I’m still having some trouble believing you’re Kendra and not some Ronodin knock off sent here to torture me,” he said, “Do you mind letting me confirm your story?”

“How?” she asked cautiously.

He held out a hand through the bars, “It’s not bad, just touch my hand, and give me permission to see if you are telling the truth. I can’t see anything you don’t want me to, and you won’t feel a thing.”

Kendra pulled back a little. “I don’t know your name, and I don’t know who or what you are. I’m sorry, I really don’t feel comfortable doing that.” Could all unicorns do what he said? She might be in a lot more trouble with Ronodin than she thought.

“I’m Bracken,” he said, retracting his hand and backing away, “We’ve done this before, if you really are Kendra. I’m a unicorn, and the Fairy Queen herself vouched for me.” His eyes softened, looking over her again, “I’m sorry, whatever is going on, I don’t mean to frighten you. I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, though it will make trusting you a little more difficult. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

Oh, he was kind. Why would Ronodin imprison someone like him? Being a unicorn the same age as Ronodin explained the comments about Ronodin’s mother and the polite dislike. The name Bracken also sounded familiar…

“Oh no,” Kendra said, covering her mouth. It all came together. Bracken was Ronodin’s cousin, the one she was engaged to while secretly seeing Ronodin.

Bracken’s eyebrows raised, “I will admit that’s the first time my name has evoked that reaction. You remember something about me around your mysterious bout of amnesias?”

Kendra wanted to run away again. No wonder Ronodin knew it wasn’t safe for her to leave yet; people from her old life were already tracking her here. Why hadn’t Ronodin told her? Of course, he didn’t tell her, she spent so much time fighting him. Was Ronodin worried she would leave, or demand to leave until she hated him? This was all wrong and not fair, and Kendra didn’t know what to do.

“I’m so sorry for what old me did to you,” Kendra said. “I don’t know why I led you on, I’m sorry.” Kendra put her hand over his, which was suddenly gripping the bars of his cage. “I give you permission to see the truth of my words.”

Bracken closed his eyes, and his forehead creased, “It’s…blank. I can sense your memories for a time, then its just gone. You gave them up, but it is your mind,” he said with disbelief. “You are really Kendra.”

Bracken frowned, “There’s something awful here, dark, but nowhere near strong enough to block your memories. Do you remember any other curses? Or maybe you have a cursed item?”

“Oh, um, I made it today, to protect myself from people who would do me harm? It’s a little new, but it might be what you’re talking about,” Kendra said, pulling out the medallion.

“You did what? Kendra, you don’t make curses. That’s dark magic,” Bracken said, clutching the bars of his cell, “Listen to me closely, whatever you do, stay away from crafting curses. How can you even do that?” Which verified Ronodin’s words. Her crafting had been a secret, he did think she was evil, as was her art. There was just one more thing to check.

“Are you familiar with Mendigo?” Kendra asked.

“Your puppet? Kendra, I feel like you’re not listening to me. Whatever Ronodin said —”

“Does Mendigo only do what I say or not?”

“Well, yes, Mendigo, as I understand it, is keyed into the commands of you and your brother, and whoever you tell him to listen to.” Bracken said. “I don’t see why that’s important. Look, Ronodin is evil, you can’t trust anything he says —”

“What about my family?” Kendra asked, “Do they really imprison dark creatures against their will?”

Bracken’s eyebrows rose, “What? In a manner of speaking they do, because nothing else would have the chance to grow and flourish if we let them out. Demons, the unbound undead, dragons, they would destroy everyone and everything if given a single chance. You helped put so many of them away. They’ve killed your friends and family. It isn’t an unjust prison sentence if that’s what Ronodin told you. They all chose darkness and destruction, or it’s their nature and life sentences over huge tracks of land to roam seem more humane than killing everyone in an effort not to die ourselves. You and your family are the best people I know. Good people. Ronodin is twisting the truth for his own ends if he says differently. You are a good person Kendra, you don’t craft curses. You don’t chose evil, you can’t. It isn’t who you are. Don’t listen to Ronodin’s lies.”

“Ronodin said the exact same thing,” Kendra said sadly, and Bracken went quiet, “Except, he knows something you don’t, something we couldn’t share with either of our families because yours hates him and mine wouldn’t understand. I’ve been enchanting magic objects for a while now. I met up with Ronodin in secret, and fell in love with him. I ordered Mendigo to kidnap me from my home so that we could be together.”

“Wha-no, no, no. That doesn’t make sense,” Bracken said, hurt crashing through those beautiful blue eyes as he drew back. “That can’t be true…I…you let me into your mind a week ago. Please believe me. You met Ronodin for the first time this past week.”

“He’s a little rough,” she defended quietly, looking away, “We’re learning our way around each other again over my memory loss. He hates that we have to stay cooped up, but he knows who I was better than anyone else.”

“That’s a lie,” Bracken insisted, “He doesn’t know anything about you. He doesn’t know that falling rain makes you think of your friend Lena. He doesn’t know that your favorite way to travel through the air is being held by the Dragon Raxtus. He doesn’t know that your cousin Warren would die for you, after seeing you die once already and being unable to stop it. Ronodin knows you less than you know yourself right now. I get that you-you might not be able to believe me right now, but find Seth, find your grandparents, they’ll be scouring the earth for you. They love you so much, and you love them more than anything in return.”

Bracken’s voice was low and sincere. His voice had cracked again, like it had during his song, his tell that the emotion was just too much. So utterly certain he was right. But Kendra didn’t know a Lena or a Raxtus or a Warren. And she couldn’t ask Ronodin about them, because then he would know she went wandering.

Why couldn’t the old Kendra have fallen in love with Bracken instead?

“Why did Ronodin imprison you?” she asked. “Was it…was it because of me? He and Seth mentioned that we were…intended.”

“Oh, um…I mean…That’s not...we’re, um,” Bracken said, flustered. He wasn’t blushing, but unicorn blood was silver, could he blush? Did he sparkle more in the light when blushing? Pooling silver instead of red? “I would have come for you, I swear, but uh, Ronodin got to me first. I’ve been here a week-ish. Hard to tell the days, the guards aren’t regular on feeding us. I’m not sure what he wants to do with me. He was helping overthrow preserves and trying to set dragons on the world to massacre humans, so I was sent to stop him, but he got the jump on me.”

Ronodin would try to negotiate better circumstances for the dragons, and starting them from a place of freedom is something he would do. Keeping Bracken for no reason? That didn’t sound like something he would do. Bracken being sent off to stop his cousin? Bracken looked fit, but she would probably bet on Ronodin in a fight.

What was the truth in all of this? Where was it? Except she knew where it was, locked away with her memories. This was the first time she felt like she needed her memories. Kendra had missed them before, but if what Bracken said was true, then Ronodin was brainwashing her. If what Ronodin said was true, she had purposefully led Bracken to believe the way he did, and she had escaped from the consequences of the harm she caused someone who seemed so honest and sincere. Why couldn’t she just know. Like a normal person.

“Would I give up my memory so my brother wouldn’t have to?” Kendra asked.

His eyes were soft, awkwardness leaving, “In a heartbeat. Seth has suffered much, often by his own folly, much because he was a child in a world too dangerous for someone with his curiosity and kindness. He has trouble knowing who to trust. You supported him, gave him strength, pulled him out of his misery, helped clean up his mistakes, but you wished you could bear some of the burden for him. If given the chance to spare him pain, to keep him from messing up without his memory and creating new guilt, Kendra Sorenson wouldn’t hesitate to give up her memories.”

His hand raised, and she noticed a piece of hair falling in her face, he hesitated just short of her, and then pulled his hand back to the bars.

“Sorenson,” she said, fixing the loose hair on her own, because she’d start crying if she didn’t speak, “Is that my name?”

Bracken nodded, smiling, “Kendra Marie Sorenson. Your first name came from a book your father loved, your middle name is the same as your maternal Grandmother’s middle name.”

“I want to believe you,” Kendra admitted. “But from the things I know for certain, you’re probably a victim of my own lies.”

“You are goodness,” Bracken said simply, “Goodness and light. Ask yourself if what you’re doing feels right, feels good. If it makes you a better person who helps people and creates good things. Don’t listen to Ronodin, don’t craft curses. If you find a moment to escape, take it. Take it and don’t look back. Head to upstate Connecticut, ask for the Sorensons. You’ll find people who can help you.” Bracken tensed, “My jailor is coming, hurry away, don’t stop.”

Kendra rushed to the goblin statue, twisted the head, and hurried back up the hall.

Back in her little apartment, she took off the amulet and held it up. It had felt good crafting it. Honest. Part of who she was before that she had reclaimed. What was true and what was false?

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Waking Up Alone

This is for my anon who requested something angsty and fluffy with El Phantasmo- hope you enjoy! The idea is partially inspired by the Cowboy Junkies song "Sun comes up, it's Tuesday morning". (I am the queen of sad lady songs, I swear.)

Pairing: El Phantasmo x OFC

Word count: 3.091

Content advisory: language, sexual references

Sun comes up, it’s Tuesday morning

Hits me straight in the eye

Guess you forgot to close the blind last night

Oh that’s right, I forgot, it was me

The morning sun feels like an assault on your eyes, punching its way through your delicate eyelids and right through into your nerves. Yeah, you definitely had a few too many drinks last night. Gin and tonic with the girls, which you hadn’t done in ages. It ended up with pitchers at the dive you’d been frequenting since you were too young to get into bars, the place that truly catered to everyone. Beer after liquor, never sicker; liquor before beer, in the clear. Why the hell had you switched from liquor to beer?

Doesn’t matter now, you think, wrestling yourself into a sitting position while protecting your eyes with a trembling hand. Wrestling yourself. You sigh a little as you consider the term that immediately springs to mind. You didn’t mention the breakup to the girls. It still feels too strange, too ephemeral. Were you ever really a couple anyway? You suppose that’s the crux of the problem. You didn’t know where you stood, so you’d estimated that you were somewhere it turned out you weren’t close to.

If Riley The Perfidious Bastard were around, he would have made sure to lower the Roman shade you’d fashioned out of an old curtain and some bamboo rods. He was always impressed at your ability to create homey touches from spare parts. Now that he’s not around, you realize how much you’d liked having your abilities praised.

If Riley were here, you’d also be waking up to the smell of coffee, the most wonderful thing in the world for someone in your condition. But there’s nothing. No rich, roasted scent, no happy, burbling noises from the machine in the kitchen. You have to get up and take care of it yourself, which you haven’t had to do in a long time. Goddammit.

You run one hand over the expanse of your king bed, the plump mattress extending almost all the way to the window. Sure, the thing took up most of the room but you didn’t care. The room was only going to be used for sleep anyway. Well, sleep and that other, delicious thing. That thing you missed so much. Well, you missed it the way that Riley had done it. If he was really gone, you were going to have a hell of a time finding someone who could make you want to spend all day in bed the way he had. You still hadn’t made your way back to the center of the bed. Somehow, your mind refused to accept that things were over. You were still making space for him.

With a dramatic effort that has no one to appreciate it, you heave yourself off the bed and make your way towards the kitchen. You’re halfway through the process of making coffee when you realize that you’re wearing one of his shirts, one of the ones with his logo emblazoned on it. You must have just reached for the first thing you could find when you got home and, of course, that would be something from the pile of shirts you’d made next to the bedroom door; shirts to be given to charity because you sure as hell didn’t want to look at them anymore. That pile had been sitting there for three weeks, the dried traces of angry tears still on every part of it, and you hadn’t gotten around to carrying everything to the donation bin less than a block away.

Coffee is more important than anything right now, so you focus on that. You also shove a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster oven. Bread and peanut butter will help ease the seething broth in your gut and allow you to concentrate on the day. Which would be even more useful if your day actually required concentration. Band practice had been pushed back to tomorrow because Kyle and Lily were off in the country visiting her parents. Sure, you could work on the guitar parts by yourself, but it’s not like there was anything to learn. You had a handful of gigs coming up in the next few weeks, mostly local, all focused on your last album. Practice was just a matter of making sure you all kept tight and maybe came up with some new ways to make the live experience a little different for people.

As autumn shifted closer to winter, it was always the quiet season. Students were running short on money, the weather became unpredictable, and going on the road became less and less lucrative the closer it got to the holidays. It was approaching that time of year when people started to nest rather than seek a mate. Or at least that’s how it was for most people. It just wasn’t that way for wrestlers dividing their time between North America and Japan. You cringe at how that thought makes you recall the fights you’d had in the last few days of your whatever the hell it was because apparently it wasn’t a relationship.

It’s a very different feeling than at the beginning of spring, when everything was starting to pick up, when you constantly felt excited about what the immediate future held, and when you’d agreed to go to a wrestling show because Nadia was doing makeup for it. You and Wendy had shown up already drunk and had taken advantage of Nadia’s invitation to come backstage.

You’d stolen beer from kraft services and watched Nadia attending to her work while you tried to distract her by making her laugh. You’d been surprisingly successful but she was such a pro that she had no problems. The women took the longest for her to do, but all the performers had to come in to make sure that they’re coloring and contouring was perfect for tv lighting and that was how you’d met him.

The two of you had locked eyes as soon as he came in the room and had remained that way as he settled into Nadia’s chair. You hadn’t been able to tear yourself away from those huge, shiny orbs with their saucy expression and despite your inebriated state, you could feel that stare lodging itself in your memory forever.

“This is El Phantasmo,” she giggled.

“He’s a what now?” you’d snorted in response, relishing the flare of indignation in his eyes.

“Are we letting just anyone back here now?” he snapped.

“These are my friends!” Nadia assured him, slurring her speech as she motioned to you and Wendy. You’d been feeding her the beer you’d purloined as well.

“Like I said. We’re letting just anyone in.”

At that, you’d given his seat a shove with your foot, despite the fact that Nadia had started to apply bronzer to his cheeks. He was left with a dark streak across one side of his face and nose, which had made you and Wendy crack up.

“Come on,” Nadia chided, “I need to make these guys look good.”

“Good luck with that,” you laughed.

The man you knew only as El Phantasmo flipped you off and you’d returned the gesture, swiveling on your seat a little so that your hips were thrust forward. It wasn’t that he was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen, far from it. But something about him just got to you. He had such an effect on you that even as you were mocking him, you let your body move and pose in ways that were intended to resonate with his basest masculine instincts.

You’d been captivated by the show, particularly by his display of athleticism, as well as his bratty defiance to what the audience wanted. You’d booed him with everything you had and you’d been so drawn to him that you’d had to restrain yourself from running to the ring and grabbing his pert ass right there.

Instead, you’d made your way backstage again and insinuated yourself into the group that was going for drinks. You insisted that Nadia come along because Wendy had headed home as soon as the show was over. You wanted someone to hang out with so that it wasn’t totally obvious what and who you were there for. It didn’t really matter, though, because everyone was so friendly and most were so drunk that they didn’t care that they had no idea who you were.

You’d kept an eye on him for a while and then approached the bar when you saw him going for a refill, elbowing your way in so that you were right next to him, bumping his shoulder hard as you got to the bar.

“You wanna buy me a drink?” you crooned.

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll buy you one.”

“Does that mean I have to hang out with you?”

“Yup. Besides, you know you want to.”

“I really don’t.”

He was laughing a little when you said it, and when you leaned over to scream your order at the bartender, ordering him a random drink since you hadn’t even bothered asking, he ran his hand down your back and gave your ass a quick slap. You’d smirked to yourself. You knew you’d seen the spark in his eyes.

“Riley,” he shouted right into your ear.

“Deaf now,” you shot back, pushing his drink at him. “You’re skinny for a wrestler.”

“Don’t need to bulk up when you’re as good as I am.”

“Anything else you’re good at?”

“Fucking women with big mouths until they can’t say anything but my name.”

The two of you had spent the night all over his apartment and, yeah, he’d lived up to his own hype. The sex had been outright feral, biting and clawing and animal-like noises until you were both too exhausted to move.

You thought about dropping a hint that you wanted to sleep there but since it was kind of obvious that this was a one-night thing, you’d waited a while then pulled your clothes back on to go. The two of you shared a surprisingly tender kiss at the door and when you made to leave, he’d looked surprised.

“You don’t want to exchange numbers or something?” He’d sounded legitimately surprised.

“Sure.”

You’d entered each other into your phones and you went home in a cab, reflecting that you did feel more of a connection than you’d realized at first.

Still, you held off calling him so as not to look desperate, but he’d called you a couple of days later. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to admit you were broke until your next royalty check cleared, you’d invited him over for dinner. The two of you had cooked some pasta together and drank a couple of bottles of wine and then tore into each other again, gradually making your way to your bed. Once again, it had been mind-blowing, but the real surprise came at the end of the night.

“Mind if I stay here?” he asked quietly.

You’d patted the pillows beside you and grinned. You’d drifted off thinking that, yes, this was something a little special and you’d woken up thinking the same thing.

Craving the crisp air on your reddened cheeks, you grab a sweater, jeans and boots and that wonderful alpaca poncho you’d found when you and Riley went to that farmer’s market. It was a weird thing to find in a place that was supposed to be all about food but it didn’t matter because it was soft and full of deep colours and even though it had been hotter than hell outside, you knew that you were going to get plenty of use from it once the weather turned colder. At the time, you thought that you’d still be going for walks and dinner and drinks with Riley.

As you get ready, your phone buzzes. Wendy sending you a message.

“Never let me do that again.”

You chuckle, remembering that however bad you got last night, she was the one who ended up trying to dance on the bar, refusing to acknowledge that she couldn’t climb up on it. You’ll all have a good laugh about it later but right now, you can’t deal with it. And the reason you can’t deal with it is because for a second, you’d hoped that it was him texting you.

Your body immediately knows where it wants to go, turning the first corner and heading for the hipster diner you eat from too often. They make a mean breakfast burrito but today, you limit yourself to one of those extra buttery croissants you love so much.

Joanne is working the counter, which is kind of remarkable since you remember running into her late into the night, but although her face is flushed the same as you, she’s smiling warmly at every customer.

“Hey there, lady,” she chuckles. “Still walking?”

“Barely. May I please have coffee and a croissant? And may I ask why Peter isn’t working this morning?”

She prepares your order, grinning. “Well he had some of the guys over to watch the game last night and it turns out he’s in worse shape than I am.”

“The bastard.”

“He was totally unconscious this morning. I hope he’s not dead because being a widow would suck.”

Everyone is in a relationship. Everyone you know is in love. It hurts a lot to think that one of those things is still true of you.

Things had gone to shit over an instagram post of all things. Him during a trip back to Japan, posing with a woman who looked straight out of a modelling agency. Immediately, you’d felt in your gut that something was off and although you hadn’t wanted to seem like you were scrutinizing his every movement, you’d been unable to hold back.

“Is something going on with you and that girl in the pictures with you?”

“Going on?” He’d seemed puzzled. “I mean, we hook up when I’m in Japan. No big deal.”

That’s where he had been wrong. It was a very big deal for you. The two of you hadn’t talked about your status but you realized that you had been assuming that because you’d been wrapped up in the romance of it all that he was too. Apparently not.

It had led to a huge fight, then another resentful exchange, and then he was back in Japan for a week. You hadn’t messaged him at all while he was gone. He didn’t contact you when he got back. You’d come home one day to find your spare set of keys in an envelope in your mailbox. No note, nothing. No request to get his set back from you. Giving someone a spare set of keys was supposed to mean something. How many women had keys to his place?

You ponder it glumly for the umpteenth time as you make your way back to the home that always feels strangely empty to you now. You’d been in the place for five years. He’d been coming around for five months and somehow it feels like he belonged there. You see a figure sitting on the front step of one of the buildings and for a second, you think it’s him, waiting for you to get home, like he used to before he had keys and could go in and surprise you with dinner, or flowers, or-

Then you realize that it actually is him, sitting on your step, drinking a beer and staring off into space. He doesn’t even look up when you come to a halt next to him.

“Dude, it’s nine in the morning. Are you starting early or finishing late?”

He shrugs without looking at you and after a long moment of silence, you sit down next to him. You tear the croissant in half and silently offer it to him but he shakes his head.

“For the love of god, eat something.”

He shakes his head again.

“Fine, become an alcoholic and drink yourself to death for all I care.” You bite into the delicious pastry, humming in satisfaction and finally he reaches over and takes the other half from you.

“Good boy.”

“Here’s the thing,” he says quietly. “I thought that since you’d never said anything, it meant that you had other guys in your life. All the guys I work with either lie to their wines and girlfriends or they just have these open things going on and I guess after a while it starts to seem like that’s the normal thing to do.”

“Well I never said that I was opposed to that. I never said that we couldn’t work something out. But you didn’t even give me the chance. You just carried on as if I didn’t even exist.”

“I didn’t, though.” For the first time, he turns to look at you. His eyes are red and swollen and something tells you that it isn’t from drinking. “I said that I’d hooked up with that girl and I had. In the past. Nothing happened when I was there last time.”

“Then why did you let me believe that something had?”

“I have no fucking idea. And that’s been killing me.”

With a heavy sigh, you reach out and place your hand on his. He immediately grabs hold.

“I think,” he says pensively, “that I felt nervous about telling you I was serious about you. I was nervous because I haven’t felt this serious about someone before. And when you got angry, I think I just flipped out and thought it meant that I was wrong.”

“Wrong for having feelings?”

“Wrong for thinking you did too.”

Your stomach flips and you tighten your hold on his hand.

“Well I did.”

He nods and stares off, his face twitching a little like he’s trying to keep from crying.

“I still do,” you tell him.

He turns and stares at you, big eyes surprised and hopeful.

“Really? Because I’m an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, “I know.”

“I miss you,” he whispers.

“Why don’t you come in and have a cup of coffee?”

“Only if I can make it,” he grins. “You always put too much in.”

“Asshole,” you grunt, standing up and pulling him with you.

As you unlock the door, he leans in and plants a warm kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

The two of you enter your flat, hand in hand again.

[kyotarou]

what we had

gn reader

characters: miya osamu

plot: after years of being together, you and osamu fell out of love. now, osamu feels there’s something missing in his life. he agrees to let atsumu set him up on a blind date, and to his shock, it’s you. as the date progresses, you both reminisce about the past and the unspoken regrets you hold.

word count: 2.7k+

warnings: TIMESKIP SPOILERS, angst with a happy ending, somewhat unrequited love, swearing, osamu being a bad boyfriend

(artwork does not belong to me, i only added the text)

You no longer slept in each other’s arms. You and Osamu gradually drifted apart on the mattress to the point where you now slept with your backs facing each other with a significant gap in between. Things were quiet. It wasn’t the peacefulness you thought you’d reach. It wasn’t that you despised him, or you felt uncomfortable. Simply put, you fell out of love, and so had he. Neither of you were brave enough to bring it up, so you held onto the hope that something would reignite the spark you had for years. But two painfully long months passed, and it was the same feeling, or lack thereof. It felt more like living with a roommate than your boyfriend.

One morning, after you had breakfast filled with the same, monotonous small-talk, Osamu set down his utensils and looked you straight in the eyes, the first time he’d done so in months.

“I think we should break up.”

You thought it’d be painful, that the realization your love had fizzled out would finally hit and you’d be flooded with regret. Instead, you felt relieved, and you nodded, knowing it was time to go.

Fast forward two years. With the help of his friends and family, Osamu built Onigiri Miya from the ground up. Business was booming and he had a wonderful team of employees to back him up. He was content with life, but it was still missing something. Osamu hadn’t been in a stable relationship since your break up. Dates after dates, no one stuck. When he thought he finally found a suitable partner, he found out they had an obsession over his twin, Atsumu, and Osamu was merely a gateway to get closer to him.

It was in times like this he thought about you the most, the stability and love you once had since high school up until your twenties. Although you ended on good terms and promised to stay friends, he hadn’t spoken to you in person since the day you moved out and bid him goodbye. He assumed he’d at least run into you on the street or at the store, but nothing. It was as if you disappeared. The first time he heard from you since the break up was when you sent him a text after the grand opening of Onigiri Miya.

[Congrats, Osamu. I knew you could do it :)]

[Thank you (Y/N). It means a lot.]

He wondered if he should’ve messaged you more, maybe ask how you’ve been or if you wanted to catch up. But he pondered for too long, and he realized it would be weird to text you so late at night. He turned off his phone, but the thought of how you were doing still lingered.

Osamu never would have agreed to go on a blind date if he weren’t this desperate. It was Atsumu’s idea, of course. Atsumu saw an ad for a new dating app on a billboard while on the way to one of his matches. The app was catered specifically for blind dates. When his twin offered to help set up a date, every fiber in Osamu’s body begged for him to say no, but he’d been single for too long, and Atsumu’s jabs at his poor love life weren’t helping. He agreed, on the condition that he could beat Atsumu if he purposefully set him up with a bad partner.

Osamu entered the cafe in a hurry, phone in hand. Atsumu scheduled the date for 4:00 PM, and it was now 4:30. Osamu had forgotten all about it, and on top of that, he had to cover the shift of one of his employees who was out sick. He rushed home, threw on his nicest shirt and pants, hoping his date hadn’t left.

His eyes darted around the crowded cafe for a person in a grey jacket, as stated in their text to his brother. He looked, but the hustle and bustle made it harder to focus. There were blue coats, red sweaters, black suits, but nothing grey. His gaze fell to the corner of the room, and his heart stopped.

No, it can’t be…

You sat at the very back of the cafe, away from the other patrons. You sipped on your vanilla latte, which was cold by now, and waited patiently for your date. His brother, who set it up, texted you that he’d be late because of work. Thirty minutes wasn’t too bad, but you hoped whoever showed up made it worth it. You only got the general details of your blind date; he worked in the food industry, had a twin brother, and he used to play volleyball. Reading those notes made you think of a certain set of twins, and you wondered how you would react if it was indeed Osamu. But the facts were so basic, it could’ve applied to anyone.

Maybe you shouldn’t have thought about it so much. None other than Osamu Miya slid into the seat in front of you, trying his best not to make it awkward. You choked on your coffee and quickly dabbed it away with a napkin.

“Hi. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah…” You glanced at his phone, which was on the table, and saw the app open to details of your date. Below that were the three facts you gave to who you now knew was Atsumu.

Over the past two years, Osamu compiled so many questions for you. Now that you were here, face to face, they all disappeared from his mind. He had no clue what to say, and judging from how you were avoiding eye contact, you didn’t, either. He didn’t think it would be that awkward—you did end on good terms, after all. But the tension between you two felt as if the cause of your break up was endless shouting when it was very much the opposite. 

Sometimes, Osamu wished it’d been like that so he’d have an excuse as to why he let go of the one person he valued most. When he told his family about it, they were more heartbroken than he was. His mother cried for days, and Atsumu was angry that Osamu didn’t work hard enough to reignite your love. 

“Couples’ counseling exists for a reason!” he screamed.

Osamu shrugged in an attempt to look nonchalant, but in his heart, he knew Atsumu was right. You never brought it up, never tried to talk it out. He waited for a sign, for some outside force to magically tie you back together. He let it play out without putting in an ounce of effort. In the end, he took the path he convinced himself was best. When you agreed without a hint of sadness on your face, and he noticed how relaxed you seemed, all the guilt came crashing down at once. He told himself he didn’t love you anymore. He told himself it was for the better, that good things would come his way. So, why is it that when you were in front of him, he wanted to say, I love you?

You had no clue why you brought up the idea of visiting the places you used to go as a couple. And it shocked you, even more, when Osamu said yes. Now, you were at the train station, eating the custard buns you used to buy after school. The inside was just as sweet and gooey as you remembered. For a moment, you felt like high schoolers again. Osamu had a bottle of green tea, the same brand you bought for him years ago. Though you smiled at your youthful past, you couldn’t shake the memory of the day you last saw Osamu.

It was at this station where you said your final goodbyes. The sky was a mix of pink and orange, casting an ethereal light over you as you waited for the train. Osamu remembered wanting to ask you for a goodbye kiss as closure, to end your relationship on a good note. But what more did he need? He didn’t love you anymore. Kissing you would be like kissing a stranger, and the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. And yet, he couldn’t stop admiring your lips, imagining the plushness of it against his, the feeling that had made his heart race for years.

The train came to a stop, and its doors hissed open. You grabbed your bags, bid Osamu goodbye, and boarded. Through the window, he watched you settle in your seat. He thought you’d turn around and watch until he faded into the distance like everyone did in the movies. It was he who watched until the train disappeared into the tunnel. The entire time, you were on your phone, and he knew he was already a distant memory.

The train took you to the neighborhood where your old high school stood strong. Even in the dark, Inarizaki looked no different than it did when you and Osamu attended. You passed by the boys’ gym, and your mind began to play the familiar sound of squeaky shoes and the excited cries of the team. While Osamu idled around campus, he realized you stopped near the club room building. He couldn’t tell if you were sad or pleased as you stared at the water fountains, wrapped in nostalgia.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue. “This is where-”

“-I confessed to you,” you finished. 

It was clear as day. You and Osamu were second-years in the same class. You harbored feelings for him since junior high but never dared to confess. But you only had a year left until you graduated, and your friends convinced you it was now or never. So, you asked Osamu to meet you before afternoon practice by the club room building. You shoved the love letter in his hands before running off, shouting, “Do your best!” over your shoulder.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Your heart couldn’t stop pounding at the thought of facing him the next day. You nearly screamed when your phone rang. It was Osamu. You didn’t want to pick up in fear of rejection, but the thought of what if? inspired you to answer.

“Hey,” he said. “I just read your letter. Is it true? Do you really feel that way about me?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see. “Yes, it’s true. I like you, Osamu. A lot.”

“I really like you, too, (Y/N). So, so much.”

Though the phone call was the start of your relationship, it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t meet him by the club room. To be in that spot years later felt unreal, like you were confessing to him all over again. Together, you talked about college, marriage, children, and growing old. You planned your whole life with Osamu only for it to end the moment you found stability and peace. You wondered where you’d be now if the break up never happened, if you managed to reignite that spark. Would he be your husband? Would you have kids? 

Osamu wandered off to another part of the campus. Although the space felt empty without him, you were glad he couldn’t see the tears streaming down your face.

The bridge was filled with bittersweet memories. Before things became motionless, you and Osamu used to argue over the littlest things, from washing dishes to turning off the TV. Small sparks set off a bigger blast. A snide comment would turn into a fit of shouting until you were too exhausted to continue or one of you left. When Osamu stormed out of your shared apartment, you knew he’d be at the bridge. Something about the serenity of the water below made you forget all the anger, and you both apologized. 

“I’m sorry, Osamu,” you whispered after a particularly nasty fight. “Please, come home. I miss you.”

He’d give you a warm hug and kiss you on the lips, stroking your back and telling you he was sorry, too. 

Osamu never realized how you were always the first one to say sorry until now. Despite him being the one to start fights, he never once apologized until you did. He left you waiting, begging him to come home. How often did you fear he wouldn’t come back? How many times did he make you feel like you were in the wrong? The insecurities you told him about, the idea that you weren’t worthy of his love, did he make you feel like that?

Maybe you realized you were too good for him. Maybe that’s why you stopped snuggling him in your sleep. Maybe it was him all along, the one who set off the wrong sparks and snuffed the one that mattered most. Now, Osamu was looking for a sign once again. If you stayed silent, all that happened was water under the bridge, and there was no point in bringing it up. If you spoke, Osamu would hold onto the hope that the flame of your love would burn once more. He counted the seconds, growing antsy as the numbers increased. You could say anything, and it’d be enough for him to hope. Hell, you could comment on the weather, and he’d take it as his sign.

Please, please, he begged in his mind. Something, anything, just one word-

“It’s a lot more peaceful here than I remembered.”

Holy shit.

You stared into the starry sky. “Being here used to give me the worst anxiety. It’s almost like a tradition to apologize here. This place should’ve given me hope, but all those times when I’d find you here, I’d think to myself, ‘This is it, this is the end. It’s over.’”

You answered his unspoken questions. How could he have been so blind? He should’ve known that a simple 'sorry' wasn’t enough to lift the weight off your shoulders. What kind of boyfriend lets their partner bear all the burden? And to think your breakup was mutual—no, he convinced himself it was a relief when in reality, it only felt like that for you. He couldn’t blame anyone other than himself for the karma he rightfully deserved and received. The emptiness he felt, the hole in his heart-

“I still love you.” He looked you in the eyes for the second time that day. “I still love you, (Y/N). I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never realized how much I hurt you. I’m sorry that this is the only time I’ve apologized first on this damn bridge, and we’re not even together anymore. I am so, so fucking sorry.”

“Osamu…”

“God, I hate myself. I’m a piece of shit. I let you carry all that pain around and didn’t do anything to help. I didn’t even ask if you were okay. What was I thinking? But I still love you, (Y/N). I feel so fucking empty without you. All this time, I’ve been pretending I’m okay, but I’m a mess. I love you, I love you so much it hurts, and I know what you’re going to say, and it’s gonna be the worst pain I’ve ever felt, but I deserve it.”

Your bottom lip quivered. “Osamu, I’m sorry.”

Here it comes.

“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way.”

Any time now… 

“But I can’t return your feelings.”

There it is.

Osamu nodded solemnly.

“However-” your voice trembled and your vision blurred. “I’ll admit, I miss what we had. It was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. I miss all the dumb shit we used to do in high school. I miss the stability after graduation, even if it was short. I miss everything, Osamu. Especially you.” You wiped your eyes. “It’s hard to forget someone you’ve loved since junior high. I don’t think I’m ready to let go, not yet.”

Osamu stood in stunned silence as you let out a weary laugh through your tears. You took his hands in yours. His fingers fit perfectly in your palm, and your thumbs rested in the familiar dents between his knuckles, like you were molded for each other.

“Osamu,” you whispered. “I can’t say ‘I love you’ right now, but I think I can soon.”

It took a moment for him to process your words. When he did, his eyes gleamed with excitement. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

You nodded. “Let’s give it another shot. Let’s fix what we had.”

Osamu smiled and nodded back. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

[albatris]

ik this is probably an inappropriate question to ask but i deal with stpd and just recently discovered this. Previously thought it was just depression/anxiety but ive been on like 7 antidepressants/2 of which were more geared towards anxiety. I was wondering if you take any meds or have any advice you might recommend. Id really appreciate it. Im running out of ideas lol.( Sorry to bother and thank you)

nah you’re all good, I don’t have any problem with questions like this n I’m happy to share any experiences of mine that people might find useful!! though in this case idk how much help I’ll be, sorry D:

mostly about meds but my bad for goin on a whole ramble in the middle about therapy?? I talk a lot and have trouble staying on topic

'cause meds n therapy both have been useful to me but both probably would've been pretty useless without the other

under cut for personal rambles

so I was in the same boat as you for several years, I was in treatment for depression and anxiety and then borderline later on, way way way before anyone landed on schizotypal

as such I’ve been obviously dealing with stpd symptoms for basically my whole life but I only got diagnosed early last year n it’s the first time I’ve been. like. actually in any sort of therapy that addresses it properly and I’m still getting a feel for it

in terms of meds, I’ve been on a whole slew of different antidepressants, didn’t find one that worked until I was maybe 18 or 19? so I’ve been on the highest dose mirtazapine since then....... helps with that kinda baseline anxiety background hum, helps with obsessions and guilt spirals..... I didn’t think it did much for depression until I tried coming off it??

like, it gave me a slight boost in terms of energy and motivation, not a huge one, but definitely noticeable once it was gone

but yeah, it was kinda..... yeah, this med is about as helpful as I’m gonna get, so I decided to stick with it. I recently have considered coming off it ‘cause the sedation was a nightmare, but that’s on hold for the time being

I’ve been on two different antipsychotics, first quetiapine, which did absolutely nothing and was even more sedating on top of the mirtazapine, and currently I’m starting on aripiprazole. still on a super low dose, but working up to something that will hopefully ease some psychotic symptoms. side effects of insomnia and nausea but eased off mostly after the first week

but yeah, I haven’t really had much experience with antipsychotics or how helpful they are yet, atm I’m gonna wait and see whether there’s any real positive effects

but meds are super hard to give advice about, ‘cause different ones work for different folks, what works for me might not for you, what works for you might be something I tried and hated, etc etc etc, y’know

honestly the most helpful thing for me has been therapy, I’ve pretty much been in therapy since I was like 5 and I’ve done a lot of it

meds might be helpful to some people on their own but for me I think they would have been mainly useless without some form of therapy

meds kinda helped with some of the “edges” ie, the resulting depression and anxiety of the personality disorder, hopefully will help with some psychotic symptoms too, therapy has also helped with some of these issues on the edges, and I’m currently addressing some of the more specifically schizotypal core issues, although I will likely have to continue doing the work on those issues for most of my life

if you have a good doctor who listens to you, if you want to continue trying out meds then you might still find one that helps you out! I don’t really have a lot of advice here, because the effects can be so different from person to person. but I’ve found that meds only help on a really small scale, they kind of take a little bit of the weight off but it’s still a whole lot of heavy lifting on my own

so therapy was real good for some of that stuff too, skills for easing some of the load. therapy for me involved Other People, but for others it could involve other resources, such as online workbooks n that kind of thing....... ‘cause I know personally for me I fuckin HATE meeting new people and having to bare my soul for them, so therapy gets. interesting

and I know therapy is not realistic for some folks (and also not what this question was about but I’m just rambling now)

n I know especially that that shit gets fucking HARD when any sort of psychosis and paranoia is involved, in terms of stpd, I flat out refused to speak about certain symptoms with professionals due to paranoia and fear, and had a lot of issues trying to come into a therapy environment and immediately having complete strangers be like “ok tell me about what’s up”

like, no???? fuck off?? I don’t even know you??

n until recently all my therapies where only tangentially useful as a schizotypal, like, I did a bunch of social anxiety stuff which helped with some of the surface level day-to-day social anxiety (not so much the more deep-seated stpd social anxiety, that whole “it gets worse the closer you get to people” type, very fun), I did a lot of work around depression and suicidal urges and goals and meaningful living and whatnot, I did DBT which also encompassed a lot of work on interpersonal skills and handling dissociation and paranoia

n like. some of it was helpful? none of it got to the core of the issue or addressed what I really needed to address

I got super lucky with my current psychiatrist in that she was someone I already knew for around a year and a half beforehand ‘cause she helped out in my DBT group therapy. so I was able to get a feel for what kind of person she was beforehand and got to find my feet in trusting her in a more distanced context before entering one on one therapy. she also specialises in personality disorders and was the one who actually diagnosed me so it wasn’t like she was like “oh you’re definitely schizotypal, I’m gonna just pan you off to someone more experienced now” which was nice

she’s also the one who’s helping me out with meds currently

but ya, therapy can be A Lot, ‘specially for schizotypals who tend to isolate and get uncomfy in those vulnerable scenarios. in order to make the most out of it I have to practice an extremely uncomfortable sort of “radical openness” which is like..... well, I’ve spent most of my life being miserable and unhappy and feeling trapped and stuck in these patterns, and this has gotten me nowhere, in order for something to change I need to be radically open about my experiences

which gets HARD because the knee-jerk reaction to paranoia and delusions is often to pull back and isolate, and often I’ve struggled with the idea that it’s not “safe” to speak about certain things or that something bad will happen if I do

so it’s difficult, but I have to continually commit myself to being open and placing myself in intensely uncomfortable scenarios, getting used to the idea of trust being An Action, and practicing trust even when I don’t necessarily Feel It

that’s been a really helpful outlook for me and the only thing that’s kept me involved with therapy and meds and treatment. idk if it’ll be useful to others. I also know that some therapists and psychiatrists are shit and being radically open with the wrong people can be a nightmare

but it’s something that applies in my other relationships too and with my relationship to myself, so. *shrug emoji*

but yeah. that’s been what’s helpful for me

meds do a little bit of the work, but honestly I still have to pull a fuckload of the weight on my own, I kinda got to the point with meds where I was just like “ok this is obviously as good as it’s gonna get” and just stuck with it......... which is kind of a bummer of an answer

ik that kinda turned into a whole unrelated ramble in the middle there but I hope this kinda answers a bit of your question maybe or maybe not ‘cause I don’t really know what I’m doing

but also

I hope you have a nice day

[sanababes]

Golden Child (I)

= fem!reader x twiceblackvelvet

《 A/n: so this is the bnha inspired thingy, I just got some ideas from it and just created stuff from my imagination lol. Please don't expect too much I just made this series for fun :>> feel free to express your opinions about this 》

--------------

On the prevailing modern generation, possessing a superpower or also know as a "quirk" is nothing uncommon. It was first witnessed a few centuries ago and it continued to cultivate with different combinations until it became normalized in the society. A person is also determined if he's light or dark (aura), this benefits the user whenever he uses his quirk. Acquiring a quirk comes around 5 to 8 years old of age. Fundamental hero courses were then introduced and applied in academic institutions. If a child is quirkless or so as called as a "vigilante", general studies are provided.

However, many individuals began to dwell in desire and selfishness due to the rivalry of being a powerful mortal. This made the villains emerge from their own shadows as they try to surpass the good and take over the federal civilization.

Noble families (pure-blood heroes) are assigned to ensure the safety of their municipality. This became a standard law, though it is required for them to pass from the hero course to use their quirks freely. Your father, Kang Haneul is one of the nobles too. He's an exceptional hero and always protected the people from the bad. His Ice whip (light) quirk allowed him to generate ice trendils from his arms and command it on his will.

He went on with his job until he encountered the "Mistress", her quirk was unknown but it was said to be so powerful. They both fell in love and kept their relationship secret because it was forbidden since the Mistress was a well-known evildoer.

They both got into a conflict when Haneul married another woman unbeknownst to the Mistress. He even had a daughter with his wife kept it from her too.

You were then conceived from an affair that was frowned upon by your father's household since they are nobles. After the Mistress gave birth to you, your father took you away immediately then raised you with his real wife and daughter. Even though it took time for them to accept your existence, they noticed your potential to become a hero when you attained your quirk at the age of 6.

About your quirk, it was incredibly potent, Half-cold Half-hot. As they predicted your aura was also half-light half-dark. You were a unique combination, rumors started to spread about the youngest Kang and then you earned the title of being a "Golden Child" due to your extraordinary power.

It was rare to get a dual quirk, this allowed you to generate ice and fire from your right and left body correspondingly. For your auras, you have light in your right then dark in your left.

(A/n: lol todoroki much 😂)

You were home-schooled at your father's mansion while simultaneously trained to control and use your power with accuracy. You hated unnecessary attention that's why you're contented at being isolated.

On the other hand, your (half) older sister Kang Seulgi is very enthusiastic and outgoing if she's compared to your composed and calm behavior. The two of you get along just fine, you appreciated her as a family but you couldn't withstand her persistent nagging. She would always tell you to go out and have some fun which you find it absurd. You're fine by yourself and you'll continue to mature like that.

At the age of 11, you got invited into a summer camp which is formulated to strengthen your skills in combat and to enhance your quirk as well. There were several pupils who you trained with at the time, but you got close to a particular blonde though.

"Hi! I'm Lisa, can we be friends?" You remembered her saying.

The other kids discreetly avoided you since your aura was pretty intense, but Lisa did the opposite.

"I-I'm Y/n..." You uttered merely.

"I see, so you're the shy type huh? Don't worry, I'll be your best friend from now on!" she told you, her voice filled with confidence.

Practically the two of you became close after that. She would come over every now and then since the mansion settles in the countryside neighborhood which is pretty far from Leiden (downtown area).

As time passed, you became stronger than before. Seulgi would even team up with Lisa as they challenge you into a match. Honestly, they don't work well together but they managed to win against you many times. Seulgi's quirk is permeation (light) while Lisa has whirlwind (dark).

The two of them studied at a school unlike you, sometimes you felt a little envious but it would go away eventually. Your father had told you numerous times that it was just to ensure your safety. You just understood that and concentrated on studying and increasing your ability.

----

It's been a few years now and you're currently stepping inside the most renowned Leidenschaft University in the land of Roswell. By your side, your sister Seulgi had a cocky smile on her face as you both walked along the hall. Bunch of students murmured endlessly when they recognized who you are, it was in the middle of the term so transferees are rarely accepted into this hero school. They guessed that you probably entered through recommendations since your father is a famous hero. Nonetheless, you didn't care and just continued to walk to wherever your sister is going.

"I think they're starting to like you, Y/n. You should've come with me during the first day," Seulgi chuckled while teasing you purposely.

"Whatever... Just send me to the principal's office or something."

You rolled your eyes out of annoyance, you wouldn't even be here if you didn't lose the deal that Seulgi made.

~ Flashback ~

You're just sitting peacefully behind your desk as you played with your ice, making random shapes on your hand while Seulgi sat across you. She suddenly banged the poor table and stood up with her eyes lit up playfully.

"Yah! Since you're starting high school this year, why don't you study at my university? I'll speak to dad about it," she said.

You just shrugged ignorantly, deciding to play her own game.

"And what will I get from it?"

"Hmm, okay let's settle this out. If you win against me in a fight then you don't have to go, but if you lose..." She smirked.

"Fine, let's go to the yard then," you wore your metal mask and followed your sister outside.

You're not really optimistic when it comes to fighting against Seulgi. Even though you're quite hard to beat, you know that she's a little tougher than you.

Seulgi positioned herself at the opposite of the open lawn as you went ahead and prepared your stance. You huffed through your mask while thinking about your strategy to gain a victory from the latter.

"Siwon-ah can you infer whoever falls to the ground first?" You asked your servant who's standing below a tree to get some shade.

"Will do, young master." he bowed politely.

"I'll strike first!"

Seulgi instantly went under the ground and suddenly appeared from behind. You dodged her kick then filled your right arm with glaciers as you tried to jab her abdomen. Unfortunately, your hand went through the girl, she took advantage of it and quickly punched your face which made you trip a bit.

"Fuck..." You cussed mentally.

She scoffed at your situation, Seulgi clearly wants you to wield your fire ability.

"Come on, use your left side. It's not really a big deal."

You blasted multiple ice balls towards her direction, whilst thinking about using your flames.

"You can't defeat me with ice Y/n, I'm sure you already know that," she added.

You activated your dark aura instead which made Seulgi feel the chills. It made her suffer from your dominant ambiance since she's a light, the girl went pass through you again when she aimed to make you slip. You were caught off guard from her speed as she swiftly locked your left ankle.

"Ouch!" She yelped.

You knew she was very naive to start on. You secretly activated your flames into its minimal energy, maybe a little surprised too that Seulgi didn't saw you emitting some fumes on your left body.

"Oops! My bad."

Your sister looked at you unbelievably, like she saw something scarcely credible. You chuckled at her reaction as you immediately attacked by shooting your flames to her direction. Seulgi hissed from the heat that you granted, she absolutely want to end the fight soon.

"You smart-ass! You're going to regret that Kang Y/n," she whacked your guts out harshly that made you groan and fall on your knees.

"Yah! You didn't have to overdo it so much!" You whined lowly.

Seulgi's pissed off face turned into a smile when she realized that she had beaten you.

"It's been decided. You're going to my school young lady."

You let out tons of complaints before deciding to remove your metal mask. The steam of vapor came out from your mouth as you breathed heavily. Your sister walked towards you and fixed your disheveled hair. (u can have da same hair like todoroki’s 😉)

“Aigoo, stop sulking already. I promise it's going to be fun studying there.”

On the other hand, Siwon just shook his head in disbelief as he knew you were alright. The three of you then entered the mansion once again as you dwell upon your loss.

"Tsk, be thankful that I didn't go all out this time..." You said.

Seulgi just laughed at your childishness while planning to discuss your application form with Mr. Kang.

~ flashback ends ~

So that happened which is why you are inside this massive academic establishment.

You and Seulgi were about to enter the principal's office when a familiar voice called for your attention.

"Y/n!"

Lisa jogged towards you as she left her group of friends confused.

"You didn't have to shout like that..." You utter awkwardly.

The blonde did not seem to care and hugged you instead.

"I'm sorry I just didn't expect to see you here, why did you keep this from me? I thought you're going to be home-schooled again," Lisa whined while tugging on the blazer of your uniform.

"I wanted to see your reaction, but I think it wasn't a good idea. Now all the students are looking at me because of you."

What you said was certainly true, your tall appearance is really eye-catching if your asking. (I also want you to know that your left eye is blue-)

"Fine, I hope we'll be classmates then. Now go get your schedule and see you later boy."

Lisa finally left as you both entered the office. A man in his 40s greeted you with excitement, you glanced down at his table and saw a name in the metal placard which said 'Mr. Park Jinyoung.'

"Good morning, Seulgi-ah. I see, so is this your sister?"

"Yes sir. She will be staying with us from now on," she answered.

"That's great! Hi Y/n, I'm JYP and this is your schedule. I'm happy to have you here in Leidenschaft University," he said.

"Thank you sir, I'll do my best."

You and Seulgi bowed politely and left the office. She showed you around the school then told you about some specific areas and such.

When you both arrived in front of your assigned homeroom, Seulgi knocked on the door which had 'Class 1-A' engraved on it.

The door opened as a teacher came out with a gentle smile on his face.

"Oh? Seulgi, what are you doing here?"

"Ahh Mr. Ok, I'm just here to drop off my sister. Please take care of her for me," Seulgi said.

You learned that your adviser's name is Ok Taecyeon which is presumably the man in front of you. Your sister gave you a warm pat on the back then went to her own class since she's a 2nd year.

Mr. Ok guided you inside the room that is filled with other students. Their eyes are also fixated on you which made you feel a little anxious.

'Is she really the golden child?'

'Damn, I didn't know she was that hot'

'I heard she's Seulgi sunbaenim's sister'

'Ugh she's pretty and handsome at the same time'

'I think I'm whipped'

You heard some chatters from your dear classmates, you just let them be and found yourself sighing at relief when you saw Lisa sitting at the back as she waved her hand discreetly.

"Uhh hi, I'm Kang Y/n. Please take care of me," they acknowledged your presence.

Mr. Ok then told you to sit beside someone named Sana, you glanced through the students when you saw an orange-haired girl raising her hand cutely. You assumed that it was her so you walked towards the girl and sat on the vacant seat by her side.

"Hi I'm-"

"Minatozaki Sana" you finished her statement.

The girl looked astonished but then realized that their uniforms had name tags on them.

"A-Ahh yes that's right, you're cute ya know that?" She flirted with ease.

You gave Sana a tiny smile and looked away from her intense stare. You felt someone looking from the side, then you sensed a familiar aura coming from that person.

"Dahyun unnie?"

-

-

-

~ to be continued ~

(a/n: just corrected some grammatical errors that bothered me after re-reading this story again 😂 i'll probably update this soon when i have time ;)

[atinydise]

Ateez seeing that their s/o moved on (2/2)

❦ Genre: Angst.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 2k9.

❦ Masterlist.

Part 1

SAN ft. Mark Lee (NCT 127/NCT U/SuperM)

“Are you ready guys?” whispered San to the other members. They acquiesced but Jongho said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea Hyung.” “Why? She likes surprise.” “But she said last time that she doesn’t want to see you anymore. And I think it works for us too.” San sighed of frustration, “but I need to get her back before it’s too late.” “You’ve should think about it before breaking up with her because of you damn jealousy” added Seonghwa.

You got a new job in Korea, as an assistant manager for a boy group, NCT 127. You were so happy to finally have some recognition. For this reason, you ran to your boyfriend to announce the good news. As you came in their practice room, you hugged San tightly. “Guess what!” you smiled at him. “Hum… we are going to Disneyland?” “No. But maybe I could afford it later!” “Then just tell me! You know I’m terrible at guessing jokes.” Begged San. “I got the job!” you almost yelled. “The job for which group?” he asked seriously, “Itzy or NCT?” “NCT”, you said shyly knowing that he was getting jealous. He detached from your embrace, “are you serious? I told you to cancel your interview.” “But San, this is an incredible opportunity. People are praising me for my hard work.” “Then other people will hire you for a girl group.” He said grabbing his towel. “Can you stop? I’ll say yes and work for NCT. So please support me at least.” “No. If you work for them, you’ll need to spend all of your time with these boys. And I don’t want my girlfriend to do that.” You were getting mad, “then you are asking me to choose between you and my career?” He nodded, “exactly”. He freaked out when you left the room, he could have bet that you were going to choose him but you did not.

Days passed and San noticed how he messed up. That’s why he was walking with the rest of Ateez members behind him. They planned to meet you and sing to apologize of San’s behavior.

After Jongho’s doubt, they decided to surprise you no matter what. They noticed all the members of NCT 127 on the hallway, warming up before going on stage. But you were not here. Hongjoong asked his friend Taeyong calmly, “Did you see Y/N?” “She’s in the room with Mark.” He replied. San’s jealousy increased so fast, he knocked at their backstage room. When no one came to answer him, he entered loudly, shouting, “Y/N!” You were treating Mark injury. “What are you-“ asked San confused. “San? The heck are you doing here?” “Do you know him Y/N?” said Mark as he felt your hands tense on his arms. “Huh, yes. It’s my ex-boyfriend.” You replied, focusing back on his wound. “Ex-boyfriend? Yelled San. “Yes- EX. Since you can’t be happy for me, why I should stay with you?” You grabbed Mark’s hand and led him to the stage with the other members. They noticed how you intertwined your fingers with his. San was yelling behind you how he was sorry and asking if Mark was your boyfriend. But none of you replied. Jongho walked next to San, “I’ve told you that was a bad idea.”

MINGI ft. Leedo (Oneus)

[“I’m busy today”]. Mingi was frustrated, he wanted to talk with you for a month now. At least he tried to. You were too busy to meet him for even 10 minutes. [“Y/N. It’s been 7 months since we broke up…”] [“And what? I waited 1 year & 3 months for a real date with you. But it never happened.”] you texted back. Mingi bite his tongue nervously. [“At least for 10 minutes Y/N. It’s everything that I ask”] You didn’t answer back. You ghosted him once again he thought. He was laying on his bed. Before his debut he needed to practice a lot, all the time to increase his rapping and dancing skills. You were okay with that, you helped him to achieve his dream. When their first album came out, he was getting a bit distant with you. You couldn’t say anything, not wanting to bother him with that. But everything went down so fast. Mingi was constantly mad or was yelling at you. You couldn’t figure out what you’ve done wrong. When you asked the other members, they replied that was due of stress or something like that. Days after days, nothing changed, that was even worse, you couldn’t say hi to him that he was already yelling at you. One day, you exploded. You were really mad, you said things that you didn’t mean to. And at the end, you broke up with him. You never knew how he was devastated and sad. His new career was so stressful for him that he took you for a punching ball. He never thought that you would leave him. The members advised him to let you breathe a bit, he did. Now he wished that you could go back to him. [“Meet me at the parc, in front of my apartment”], you texted him. Mingi stood up from his bed and ran from the dorm to the park you usually met.

You were here first, imagining how your little meeting would end. “Y/N! Sorry I helped a grandm-“ tried to apologize the boy, breathless. “Mingi, what do you want?” You said coldly. “Don’t stay mad at me Y/N, please I won’t handle it.” You stared at him and repeated more calmly. “Sorry. What do you want Mingi?” He smiled, “I want to apologize, I shouldn’t treat you the way I did.” You nodded, “it’s fine.” “If I could go back in time and treat you like a princess, I would!” he said intertwining his fingers with yours. “Mingi…” you pushed his hands softly, “I can’t go back to you.” “Why? We could just go back as before and live together for the rest of our lives.” Said Mingi enthusiastically. “I have someone in my life Mingi.” You confessed to him. The boy stared at you, his head dropping to the side. “I’m with him for 2 months now and I really like him.” He started to understand why you were so distant. “That’s why you didn’t want to meet me Y/N?” “Yes. I didn’t want to make you sad or something else.” He smiled shyly, “thank you. You are always taking care of me and my feelings Y/N, even if I was an asshole with you.” You were feeling bad for him, maybe you moved on too fast but Leedo was really nice and good to you. “Can we stay friend?” asked Mingi with his tiny voice. “Sure” you said with your brightest smile. At least you were still apart of his life.

WOOYOUNG ft. Jungkook (BTS)

Wooyoung was a bit stressed. It was their first time performing at MAMA. He was scared to do a mistake and disappoint Atiny, the members or the staff. They all worked so hard for this performance. When the young boy was stressed, he usually talks with you. But he can’t do this anymore since you broke up. He hesitated to text you but that was a bad idea. “Are you okay Woo? You look paler than usual.” Asked Yeosang. “I’m just stressed, nothing to worry about Hyung.” Replied Wooyoung. “Sure”, said Yeosang sassily, “are you thinking about Y/N?” His friend sighed and acquiesced. “You will need to move on. She probably did.” “I know… but our breakup was so unexpected.” Said Wooyoung as he faced his oldest and closest friend. You ended your relationship with Wooyoung because KQ scolded him a lot about not being focused on his career. He always hid it, not wanting to stress you. But one day, their manager came in the practice room and yelled after Wooyoung. He made many mistakes on stage this day. You understood that it was not the first time he got these remarks. It was hard for your boyfriend to focus on his career and on you too. When you broke up with him, you lied when you said that you didn’t love him anymore. He was devastated, as you, but it was the best thing to do for both of you. “Guys.” Said Hongjoong, “we need to go.” They all nodded and went out of their artist room.

Suddenly, Yeosang pressed Wooyoung against him. “Hyung! What are you doing!” asked the member confused. “Nothing! I just want to comfort you!” as he hid Wooyoung’s eyes. He giggled and let his friend tease him. But he heard your laugh. He tried to remove Yeosang’s hand instantly. “No, we need to go!” whispered his friend in his ears, not wanting you to hear him. The younger boy pushed him softly on the side. He saw you at the corner, talking with Jungkook. You seemed close to each other. You were docking on the wall while the BTS member played with your hair. “Wooyoung. Just go. That will hurt you more than you think!” The boy stayed quiet, watching his ex-lover flirting back with someone else. You felt a stare on you. You noticed Yeosang and Wooyoung looking into your direction as you turned your head. “Y/N” said your ex-boyfriend quietly walking up to you. “Hi Wooyoung,” you bowed to him. “What-“ “I am doing here?” you cut him straight. He hummed, glancing at the boy next to you too. “Jungkook invited me to MAMA, so here I am.” You explained blushing slightly. “Oh. You both are dating?” he asked nervously. Your cheeks went red. Fortunately for you, Hongjoong called his members. They needed to perform in 2 minutes. Before they leave, you yelled at them “Good luck guys! You’ll be amazing no matter what!”. Wooyoung smiled at you. But secretly, he couldn’t know if he was going to manage it well. Too much question was stuck on his head.

JONGHO ft. Vernon (Seventeen)

The maknae was waiting you on his bedroom for the second time today. You came to give the rest of his stuff that stayed in your apartment. You broke up with him for 5 months, but he was too nervous to ask his clothes and furniture back, earlier. To be honest, none of you knew if your breakup ended in good or bad terms. He said terrible things to you, as you did it too. Like when you said that he was too immature to make you happy. Jongho apologized the first one, mainly for breaking up with you after everything you’ve done for him. Like when you convince him to apply in KQ Entertainment after being rejected from JYP. He had no choice to break up with you, his schedule was full, and he didn’t have time for you. “You deserve someone who truly care about you Y/N and can make you happy” he said. You never answered him back, you just left him. But today was different, you were calmer and not angry anymore. You packed his stuff in a nice way. He was your first love; you will forever care about him and you want to stay in good term with him. The exchange was nice and calm, you both were happy to see each other after a long time. Jongho tried to flirt a bit with you as he checked every item you gave him back. You ignored all of his advances, that was over for you, nothing could change this. When you noticed that it was getting late, you bowed to your ex-boyfriend, took your coat, your tote bag and rushed outside. Jongho was now alone in his room. He tried to guess why you were in a hurry. He was tidying his clothes on the wardrobe when your phone rang. You forgot it on his bed before you leave. The call was from “Vernon”. Jongho hesitated, should he answer or not. Maybe that was important. “Babe? Where are you? I’m in front of the cinema.” Said a male voice through the phone. The maknae blinked, “Hello, it’s not Y/N. She forgot her ph-“ “Who are you?” asked Vernon worried. “It’s Jongho.” He said as he wanted to know if you talked about him. “Jongho? Her ex?” Bingo. But he finally sighed as his new title, “the ex-boyfriend”. “Yes, she’s probably on her way to meet you.” Warned Jongho. He heard your voice, greeting Vernon. “Sorry I’m late sweetheart!” you saw the frustrated look on his face. “Who you are talking to?” “I’m talking to Jongho but with your phone number.” He explained confused. You blinked and hurried to check your bag and your coat’s pocket. “Shit!” you took Vernon’s phone and asked Jongho “I’ll come to take my phone after the cinema. You will be at your dorm?” Jongho hummed. “Cool! See you later then.” “Wait Y/N! Who’s this guy?” he rushed to asked you before you hang up. “I’ll talk about that later.” You said, not letting him a chance to reply. Jongho noticed the little heart emoji next to Vernon’s name contact. Exactly as you always do with someone you are close to. He would definitively ask who this guy is.

Part 1

[tar-oh]

Pick-A-Pile: What you need to hear right now:

  This is my favorite kind of Pick-A-Pile to do because you never know what’s going to show up! It’s kind of like a free-for-all!  I also forgot to originally add that they’re a little shorter than normal because I felt like doing smaller messages, and because I’ve tried posting this exact post about 3 times, I lost that part of the message. So, here it is now! Remember to take what resonates and choose more than 1 if you feel like it! (also if you’re curious about what cd’s they are, message me! lol idk i know some don’t even have the band on them) So anyway, choose from one the random CD’s I forgot I owned (but all are pretty good albums): 

Pile 1:

Cards: The Hierophant, Queen of Wands, New Moon in Leo So, for Pile 1 I just kept hearing “Don't let anyone dim your light”. And I guess the Queen of Wands and the New Moon in Leo card both kind of scream that to me, because there’s a lion in both and it’s really powerful. That, and I always kind of think that when I get the Queen of Wands, and with that deck specifically I see it because it’s so bright with all the light colors. Right now, you're shining and you have things to be proud of. I'm seeing that a lot of you have skills or talents that are really shining through, as well as who you are as a person. There may be people who don't want to see you shine, or don't like what you're doing but honestly the biggest message of this pile is for you to do you. The song that played while I was working on this pile was Adelaide by Ben Folds, and while it doesn't connect completely, it's a song about the narrator being questioned why he always chooses Adelaide the city. He explains many reasons, but the biggest is that he just wants to, so I kind of take that to mean do what makes you happy. Also, side note, I think you should check out piles 5 and 6 if you were torn between any of them. Adelaide - Ben Folds (isn’t the piano and bass in the beginning a perfect combo???) Pile 2:

Cards: 4 of Pentacles, 4 of Cups, Balsamic Moon The biggest message for this pile is about healing. Something left you feeling a loss. This could have been a physical loss, like of a situation or a person, or it could just be that you feel like something is missing. Whatever it was that you went through, you need to heal. I think the best way to do so is to feel the emotions your feeling. Try not to push them away. The songs that played while I was working on this were Mad Woman by Taylor Swift and Headspace by The Wombats. Mad Woman is an angry song, asking the agitator what reaction they expected from the narrator. And, while it's an angry song, she still seems to portray this anger in a graceful manner. I'm getting that some of you may be feeling angry about whatever transpired, but I'm also getting that you need to be able to channel this anger in a healthy way. I personally love doing Kickboxing workouts when I'm really pissed? I don't know! Whatever works for you! With Headspace, the narrator talks about how he wants someone out of his head because she's kind of taking over his "headspace". So, maybe whatever this is keeps replaying in your mind and you can't get away from it. While I do think you need to feel those feelings, I also think for some a small break from your own head may be what's needed. Maybe read a good book or watch a movie or something. I'm not saying keep distracting yourself after already distracting yourself, I'm just saying take a bit of time away from those thoughts. Then, come back and feel. Overall, it will all be okay. It's just the getting there that can be hard, but I know you can get there. And, anyway, I think this is my pile, so I'm literally right there with you guys. Mad Woman - Taylor Swift Headspace - The Wombats Pile 3:

Cards: Judgement, 6 of Pentacles, New Moon in Cancer A new cycle is beginning for you. It could possibly be a spiritual one.  Or maybe in a relationship (whether it's platonic, romantic or familial). Either way, you're entering into a period of something new. You may be feeling generous, like you want to give something to help people better themselves and heal. Or, for others, just offering up your time and love. Either way, with the judgement card, I always see it to mean something destined. So, whatever it is you want to do was destined to happen. If you want to go in this direction, it's a good idea. And if you already were heading in this direction, keep up the good work. You guys didn't really get a song, but one that played while I was writing this were the end credits from the movie Lore. It's really pretty and maybe if you're into movie scores, check it out. End Credits by Max Richter from the move Lore (side note, the lady who directed this directed the new Black Widow movie coming out and while Lore is NOTHING like a marvel movie, I highly recommend it since it’s one of my favorites) Pile 4:

Cards: Queen of Cups, 3 of wands reversed, Supermoon Things may be moving slowly for you, or perhaps not moving at all. Maybe you're feeling like your hard work isn't paying off. Or, maybe you're afraid to move forward at all. Or even just being unsure of where to go. Or, maybe like the album you chose, Wiped Out, you’re just feeling a little drained and you don’t really want to move right away. Things will be moving for you soon, so if you're unsure of where you're going, then you will know soon. The Queen of Cups is the queen with the strongest intuition, so I think you know where you're going or how to move it forward, you're just not consciously aware of it right now. I think if you kind of take a minute and dive into your intuition, you'll gain clarity. I also think that if things are feeling stagnant to you, then maybe this period of stagnancy was meant to happen so you could gain the clarity you needed. Whatever it is you're going through, things will be moving and it will all work out. Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Knicks came on when I was writing this, and I think there might be something in there for you. Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Knicks Pile 5:

Cards: The Emperor reversed, Strength (or Fortitude with this deck), First Quarter Moon I'm getting a few different scenarios with this group. Also, if you felt pulled towards group 1, maybe read that one. Maybe 6 if you were drawn to that one too. The first has a couple scenarios within itself too lol. Maybe you're involved with someone (it can be in anyway) that is controlling and not in the good way. For others, maybe someone who has authority over you and is taking advantage of that. So, maybe an age gap or something. Or, just in terms of status (i.e. a boss or parent). Either way, I see that maybe they're abusing this control and I see you being able to stand up for yourself. There's a sense of self-perseverance that's needed here. You need to examine this and see if there is a way for you to make things healthier between the two of you. Otherwise, cutting ties may be needed (though, please take what resonates, but also, if this is Job-related, please know that your life is more important than a job. I know we all need to make money to survive, but also, don't work to the point where you're killing yourself, like if this is causing you that much distress. I’m not talking about if you’re just bored. I mean, that comes with a lot of jobs. I’m talking about mental and physical distress). It could even be that maybe this person has yet to abuse this power, but you feel like they will or are expecting the worst from them. In that case, maybe talk to them about this to ensure it doesn't happen. For the other group (or even both!) this is about following your dreams and not allowing someone to stop you from doing so. Maybe you're afraid things won't work out if you do follow your dreams. You have the strength to achieve them, so what's holding you back? Don't let fear do that. Maybe you're working a little too hard to control the outcome. Loosen your grip on the reigns. Or, for others, you're not in enough control, so you need to tighten the slack. Either way, you have what it takes. The songs that really stood out for me were Soft to Be Strong by Marina and  Just Exist by Eliza & the Delusionals. With Marina's song, I see this as being you taking control of your life, but not in a domineering way. And maybe if you're someone dealing with someone else, then this is the way to show them how to be. And with the others who are trying to follow their dreams,  it's more of a reminder to still be kind of yourself. Maybe you do try something and you fail. I kind of think of that thing the Robinson's say a bunch in Disney's Meet the Robinson's, "Keep moving forward!", and I definitely equate that with this song and your pile. I mean, not directly, but that’s something else that comes to mind, and with Soft To Be Strong, I see that as maybe you’re worn down, but you can still be strong. With Just Exist, it's kind of about how it would be easier if someone wasn't in their life, so I mean this could be taken literally lol. So, I guess, take what resonates. Soft to be Strong - Marina Just Exist - Eliza & the Delusionals Pile 6:

Cards: 7 of Wands, Ace of Wands, Full Moon in Aries You have ideas that you want to put into action, but you're feeling defensive of them. Like, maybe you're afraid someone will steal them if you share them. I'm kind of here to say So The Fuck What? Like, pretty much everything that's been done HAS been done, but it's YOU that makes it unique. So, what if someone likes your idea and decides to use it? Their take is still going to be different than yours. You can't really succeed if you never try, can you? I mean, it is a different thing if someone outright plagiarizes you, in that case fuck em up. (Okay, I shouldn't really be condoning violence lol) Basically just stop holding back and act! The biggest song I got for you was Dreams by The Cranberries and while it's a love song, I definitely think this can apply to you going after your dreams. Also, if you were between piles, 5 and 1 might be some to check out. Dreams - The Cranberries

[katefiction]

One Sweet Day

by katefiction (Maria) / 2014

I had this idea 5 years ago, but not for Will and Kate, just as a random story. It’s nice to have finally written it. I hope you enjoy and let me know if it’s what you expected! ;-) 

Maria x

“A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams” – John Barrymore 

I am a dying man.

At least, that’s what I’ve been told.

My organs are shutting down, as they have been doing gradually for the past ten years. 84 years is a long time for them to be working away, I don’t blame them for wanting to stop. It’s my heart that’s the biggest trouble maker though. It keeps slowing and refuses to pump the blood around as it should.

It’s the reason why I’m sitting in bed, reading all about my imminent departure from this world in the paper.

The thing about coming to the end of your life is that everyone wants to make you comfortable. They want to wrap you up in bed, as if that will delay the inevitable. It’s the polar opposite of what I want. I want to be seeing all the places I meant to see when I was healthy, and speaking to all the people I kept meaning to stay in touch with. I want to be fixing all the things I messed up.

‘Dad? Can I get you anything?’ My son pops his head around the door and scans me up and down for any sign of distress.

I wave my hand nonchalantly, ‘I haven’t expired yet’ I say a little breathlessly.

‘You’re not funny dad’.

My dad jokes had been thrilling him for 53 years.

‘George, come here, humour your old dad for a few minutes won’t you?’ I put my newspaper down and take off my reading glasses.

He is the spitting image of me, unfortunately. Luckily for him though, the male pattern baldness that has cursed our family for generations skipped him. With a head full of grey hair and at a towering 6ft 5, he cuts quite the dashing figure. Thank God for his mother.

George closes the door behind him and sits down on the chair next to my bed.

‘So what have you been up to today?’ he asks.

‘Let’s see…I woke up, bathed, had breakfast, got back in to bed, had a nap, and now here we are. Living the life, my son’

‘Do you have to be so morose all the time? I’d quite like to remember my father differently’

‘Maybe if my darling children allowed me out of this room from time to time, I would be more chipper’

George squints his eyes, ‘it’s for your own good, you’re not well enough to go gallivanting around’

The door clicks open and we both turn our heads.

‘Hi daddy, how are you today?’ Emma blusters in and kisses both my cheeks.

‘Hello sweetheart’. Despite the fact that Emma is 50, I still see her as my little girl. She still wears her brown hair down to her shoulders, and still flits around ordering everyone around just like she did when she was a child.

‘George and I were just talking about how he’s going to take me to the coast’

Emma sends him a sharp look.

‘No we weren’t!’ George protests.

She softens and starts smoothing down my bed covers, ‘good, we can go for a walk in the grounds if you like’

I grumble. As much as I love Balmoral, and chose it to spend my final days in, there are only so much of its grounds I can see.

‘Oh daddy don’t be like this’, Emma takes my hand.

I sigh, ‘I just don’t see the point of the two of you coming all the way from London if we’re just going to sit here all day, every day’

‘But we want to spend all the time we can with you dad’ George says.

‘You know if mum was here, she’d agree with us’ Emma looks at me with those lovely eyes that are just like her mother’s.

‘You’re mother was a taskmaster’ I laugh.

They glance at each other, clearly pleased to see me laughing.

Emma leans in, ‘how about you tell us about you and mum?’

‘What about us?’ I ask.

‘Oh you know, how you met, why you started dating, everything’

‘I’m sure there’s a book about that somewhere you could read…or twenty’

‘Yes but we want to hear it from you, the real story, don’t we George?’

‘Er…yes’ George says, cottoning on to Emma’s idea to cheer me up.

‘There’s not much to tell, you’ve heard it all before’

‘There must be something we don’t know’

‘Well…I suppose there could be…something you never knew about’

My heart begins to slow. I can feel it sometimes, struggling to push the blood around.

There is an unwritten rule in life that some things should stay private. Especially from your children. But those rules don’t apply on your death bed.  I suddenly understand why people feel the need to confess at the end of their lives. Because if you die without ever revealing something, then it’s almost as if it never happened, or it never mattered.

And she mattered.

I rub my chest to get my breath back.

‘Take your time dad, we’re listening’

St Andrews University, 2001

The first time I saw her, she was walking along the landing in our halls of residence, St Salvador’s (or ‘Sallies’), books in her arms and a look of determination on her face.

She’d obviously been walking pretty fast from the library. Her hair was swept around her shoulders and her cheeks and nose pink from the walk. In contrast, I had just woken up and was only just on my way to breakfast.

The first week of my university life had been spent a) hiding in my room, b) hiding in the library in Sallies, c) hiding amongst the friends that I already knew from Eton. I had resolved that I couldn’t spend the rest of the year (or four years) like this and had a new found determination to make more friends.  There was no time like the present.

‘Er hi’ I said as she rummaged in her bag for her keys. Her room was across the landing from mine and a few doors down.

She turned to face me, ‘hi’. Her subsequent expression was the same one that I’d seen a thousand times. That sudden registration of who I was. ‘Oh’.

I ploughed on, hoping to break the impending awkwardness, ‘I’m Will’.

I thought I saw a twitch on her lips. She knew my name. I knew she knew my name. ‘Catherine, or Kate, whichever. Nice to meet you’. A crimson blush was creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.

I shuffled my feet, ‘you too…so erm…’

Before I could finish, she cut me off, gesturing to her books, ‘I should really get on’

‘Of course, yeh, see you around!’ I waved my arm in the air, then realised how over the top it was to wave at her across the hallway. I pulled it down self-consciously.

‘Have a good day’, she said and scuttled off into her room.

I blew out my cheeks the second she was out of sight. It was hard enough talking to new people, it was even harder talking to girls.

*

The dining hall at Sallies wasn’t your average canteen. With its oak panelled walls and stained glass windows, it looked more like an old court room. It certainly felt like one the first few times I’d entered it. Everyone turned from their long benches when I walked in, and gawped as I made my way to the top of the hall, as if I was a guilty man walking. The table my friends and I sat on was next to ‘High table’, which was used for formal dinners with academics every Thursday night. Each student would get a chance to attend one of these dinners during the year. I had been asked on my first week, but declined the invitation, saying I couldn’t make it that night. In truth, I didn’t want to single myself out so early on.

I sat down next to Oliver, who’d become a good friend.

‘Finally!’ he scoffed, stuffing a piece of toast into his mouth. ‘I thought you were never going to emerge from your cave.’

‘My first lecture is at 11, there was no need to get up’, I said, looking over to the queue to the breakfast buffet.

‘There is if you want to get the pick of the good food in the morning.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Plus all the fit girls eat breakfast early’.

I laughed and scanned the room. There were plenty of good looking girls in Sallies. Coming from an all boy’s school, it should’ve been a feast, but I found myself nervous and suspicious of them all.

‘Kate’s late today’, he said looking over to the breakfast queue.

I turned my head. There was the girl I’d just met, plate in hand, standing alone at the back of the queue.

‘I suppose I’d better start queuing before all the food’s gone’ I said, getting up.

Oliver sniggered, ‘convenient’.

‘What? I only just met her like two minutes ago’

‘Better get in quick, all the good ones get taken in the first term’

I’d heard about the feral hormones that raged in first year halls. Relationships were made, one night stands had and the contagious spread of ‘he did, she did’ gossip was hard to avoid. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be involved in that, I was a young man after all. Just that I couldn’t afford to have the whole country hear about my bedroom habits for the sake of one night of sex.

‘Hi again’ I said as I got in the line behind Kate.

‘Oh hi’ she said sheepishly.

‘So, early trip to the library was it?’ I asked.

She moved along, picking up pieces of fruit from the platters. ‘I just wanted to get some of the core reading done before lectures start properly’.

She seemed reluctant to look me in the eye and focussed on choosing her breakfast.

‘That’s smart. What are you doing?’

‘History of Art’

‘Oh really? Me too’

She finally looked at me and smiled. ‘I know, I saw you sleeping under your hat in the introductory lecture’

I laughed, ‘I wasn’t asleep, I was just keeping my head down, there were a lot of people there.’

I don’t know what compelled me to be so honest, but despite her nervousness around me, there was something inherently calming about her.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise’ she said, clearly embarrassed.

‘It’s fine, don’t worry. To be honest I didn’t take much of that lecture in’.

We got to the end of the line, both choosing fruit and muesli, and laughed when we looked at each other’s matching plates.

‘Did you want to sit with us? You know Oliver don’t you?’

‘Oh I’m sorry I’m meeting the girls.’ She gestured over to a group of girls who were sitting at a table trying not to look over to us. I recognised a few of them from our floor. ‘But I’ll see you in the lecture later?’

‘Sure, yeah’.

We carried our food to our separate tables and I glanced over to her as we did. Her friends giggled and started interrogating her in hushed tones.

Kate, however, merely shrugged and carried on with her breakfast.

*

I never did see her in that lecture. Well I saw her, but we didn’t speak. In fact, we didn’t speak for the next two weeks.

Love stories are often made out to be lightning bolt moments. That moment where you see a person for the first time and they change your world instantly. It wasn’t like that for me. I’d had girlfriends before who I’d fancied immediately and followed them around like a lost puppy. With her, it was different. I thought she was attractive, of course. Everyone did. But she wasn’t like other girls. She had an air of quiet confidence as she walked around campus or sat in seminars. Yet it was like she didn’t realise she was special.

It was one Autumn evening that I spoke to her again. I was bent over my desk attempting an essay on renaissance art, clicking my pen on and off as I tried to wrap my head around it.

University wasn’t all I’d hoped it would be. I’d made some good friends and experienced the typical student nightlife, but during the day, I struggled to keep up with the work and dozed off during lectures.

I slammed the book shut and let out a frustrated growl. I had a 10 am deadline and had barely written 100 of the 1000 words required. As it was Tuesday, most of my friends had gone out to take advantage of the half price drinks at Ma Bells and I knew if I didn’t finish this soon, I’d have to do it under the noise and chaos of their return from the bar.

It was then that it occurred to me to try and get some help. I’d seen Kate in lectures scribbling down notes for the whole hour while I played noughts and crosses with course mates. I just prayed she hadn’t gone out.

Stepping across the hall, I gave her door a gentle rap. It took me by surprise when I heard a soft ‘come in’ from the other side.

Opening the door, I found her sitting cross legged on her bed, print outs and notes spread across her duvet, and a highlighter in her hand.

‘Oh hey’ she said, looking slightly taken aback to see it was me.

‘Sorry, am I interrupting? You doing that renaissance essay too?’ I said, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward being in her room.

A student bedroom wasn’t like a regular bedroom. I was a place to sleep, eat, work, stress out and hide away. It was like a whole home rolled into one tiny space. With the exception of my extra security measures, Kate’s bedroom was identical to mine. A single bed took up almost the length of one of the walls, and a desk spanned the back wall, with a single window above it. The room also crammed in a wardrobe and a book shelf. Like everyone else, Kate had decorated her room in her own style. Her walls were covered in photographs of people – presumably family and friends – and scenic views. Other than a few books lying around, it was remarkably clean and tidy; a world away from my pig sty of a bedroom.

‘No no, I finished that a couple of days ago, I’m just reading up for the next lecture’

‘Wow’ I said, shocked at her ability to be so organised.

She lifted an eyebrow at me and smiled, ‘sooo, have you done yours?’

I instantly felt at ease at the slight derisiveness in her tone. ‘See, that’s the thing, I was hoping, if you’re not too busy that is, that you could give me some pointers?’

She immediately piled up her notes and put them to one side, ‘what do you need to know?’

Somehow, Kate knew that by ‘pointers’ I really meant that I needed to know everything we’d been taught in our renaissance module.

After collecting my notes and laptop from my room, I sat down opposite her on her bed and we went through my question, ‘How did Giotto liberate Italian painting from the traditional Byzantine style of the early Middle Ages?’

There were four questions to pick from, and unfortunately she’d chosen a different one from me, yet still knew a remarkable amount about the subject.

‘How do you know all this?’ I said, after she described one of Giotto’s paintings to me.

She blushed, ‘I spent some time in Florence in my gap year – am I being a know-it-all?’

‘Not at all’ I laughed.

As she explained her twelve weeks in Florence to me and pointed out the panoramic views of the city on her wall that she’d taken, I noticed a distinct twinkle in her eye.

‘So what did you spend the rest of your gap year doing?’ I asked, relishing the time not talking about myself.

‘Actually, I went to Chile with Raleigh’ she said reluctantly.

‘No way! So did I! Don’t tell me we went at the same time?!’

Any ideas of doing my essay were quickly thrown out the window as we spent the next half an hour talking about our expeditions in Chile. As it turned out, Kate had been there a few weeks after me, but was well aware I’d been. She just hadn’t wanted to bring it up.

‘We should probably crack on’ she said pointing at my laptop after a long conversation about one of the expedition leaders and his tendency to wear the same socks every day.

‘Yes, right’ I said, clearing my throat. ‘Work…right’. I placed my fingers on the keyboard willing them to type something.

‘Here’, she grabbed a scrap piece of paper, ‘it will help to plan it out’. On it she wrote the essay question and highlighted some of the words in her pink highlighter, drawing lines from each of them.

‘So “Giotto��, who was he and why was he important? Then “Byzantine style”, what was this style? Then “liberate”, how did he liberate it, what did he do?’

I sat watching in awe, ‘you make it look so simple’

‘Once you’ve chopped the question up, it is simple’ she smiled. ‘Do a paragraph for each with a few quotes from the textbooks, plus and introduction and conclusion and you’re done. That’ll be good enough for-‘ she looked at her watch ‘-11 pm the night before’.

‘I should probably know how to write an essay by now, shouldn’t I?’ I said, embarrassed that she had to explain it to me.

‘It’s different to school, you’ll get the hang of it. Besides mine might be a load of rubbish’

‘I doubt that very much, you’re far too prepared with your fancy highlighter’

She giggled, ‘here, have it’. She handed the pink highlighter to me. ‘For good luck’.

I used it so much during that year that I only gave it up when the ink ran so dry that it left barely visible scratchy pink lines across my notes.

*

That night marked the beginning of our friendship. We began to walk to lectures together and sit together in the lecture hall. She even managed to get me to concentrate on the odd occasion. But even that wasn’t enough for me to enjoy the subject. As the first term drew to a close, I was having serious doubts about the course I’d chosen, and Kate’s obvious enthusiasm for art history only confirmed my thoughts that it wasn’t for me.

Luckily for me, I’d managed to make a tight knit group of friends who I could trust with my indecision. But it was Kate that convinced me to stick with St Andrews and by the time the second term came around, I was a Geography student.

When we returned that January, everything seemed brighter.

‘It was strange not having you in the lecture today’ Kate said one evening as a group of us huddled over bags of fish and chips in the common room.

‘I can’t say I missed it, present company excluded obviously’

She gave me a small smile, but turned away quickly.

Our friendship was easy and natural, but there was still a part of her I felt I didn’t know. She was open when she was with her girlfriends, but when it came to hanging out with the boys, she held back. She was certainly aware of the effect she had on them, with the amount of offers she’d had. I’d heard through the gossip chain that she’d been on a date with an older student named Rupert just before the Christmas break. She hadn’t mentioned it to me or any of the other boys.

‘You coming out on Thursday?’ Fergus asked me. As a friend from Eton, Fergus and I had maintained a close bond.

‘I’m going to dinner at the High table, I should probably accept this time’

‘So come out afterwards, you’ll need to get pissed to wipe the memory of it, trust me’

Kate turned back around ‘you’re going on Thursday too?’

‘Yeah…you as well?’

She nodded and I grinned. Suddenly the prospect of a formal dinner with academics sounded a lot better.

‘Aww look at you two’ Fergus teased.

‘Shut up’ I said chucking a chip at him.

‘Do you want to go down together’. She looked at me uncomfortably and I stumbled. ‘Just so it’s not as awkward walking in I mean’

‘Oh…ok yeah’ she said, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Next to me Fergus was sniggering childishly.

Looking back, it was obvious what he knew long before I did.

*

By the time Thursday evening came around, I was back to dreading the dinner. Pulling at my tie, I knocked on Kate’s door.

‘Just a minute!’ she called from inside.

An image flashed through my mind without my consent. One of her getting dressed in her room. In her underwear.  I blinked quickly to swat it away.

‘Hey!’ she said, opening the door. For once, her room was a mess, with clothes and shoes all over the floor. ‘You look smart’.

‘I feel like an idiot, but you look erm…’

She was wearing fitted black dress that went down to her knees and had small thin straps. Compared to the student uniform of jeans and a hoodie, it wasn’t what I was used to. Her hair was straighter than usual too, and seemed bouncy and shiny.

Amazing was what I wanted to say, ‘…erm very formal’

She looked down at herself and pursed her lips, ‘is it too formal?’

‘No no no, that’s good! You look good formal, perfect’.

‘Well that’s alright then’ she said, grabbing a shawl from the back of her door.

When we got to the main hall, academics and fellow students were mingling around looking distinctly awkward while clutching onto their drinks.

‘This looks fun’ Kate whispered sarcastically.

I smirked at her, trying not to laugh. I got us both a glass of champagne and shuffled around the room saying hello to everyone.

When it was time to be seated, me and Kate gravitated towards each other and sat on the far end of the long table with an academic either side of us.

The academics made a point to speak to us all at the dinner table in turn.

‘So William, you’ve changed your course to Geography. I trust you’re finding it easier than your last course?’ a tweed clad lecturer asked me.

‘Well it’s only been a few days, but I think it’s a lot more suited to me. I couldn’t get along with history of art’.

‘You do have to have a certain flair for that subject, not everyone has an eye for the nuances of art’, he took a swig of wine.

At university, I’d learned there were two main types of people. Those who wanted to befriend me at any cost, and those who were vocal in their dismissal of me in an attempt to show how much they didn’t care. That academic was in the latter group.

‘Actually William has a great eye’, Kate suddenly said, before he could speak again. ‘But I imagine Geography will be more of a challenge for him intellectually, not less’.

The academic looked slightly put out and I blushed.

‘Well yes I suppose’ he said grudgingly. ‘So you are enjoying the subject?’

Kate nodded enthusiastically, ‘I love it’.

‘What are your plans after university?’

I noticed how he hadn’t asked me that question, no one ever did.

‘Well at the moment I’d just like to get on with my degree, but maybe if I do well, I’d like to go into curating’.

The academic nodded and muttered something about that being the typical route for art history graduates, but I had stopped listening. I was more interested in watching Kate as she smiled politely, listening to the next student speak.

When the dinner was over, we left the hall at the first given opportunity. As we walked back up the stairs to the bedroom, Kate checked her watch. It was already 10 pm.

‘Thanks for sticking up for me in there’.

‘No problem, he was being a bit of an idiot’ she laughed.

‘At least that’s over and done with now’.

‘Yeah’ She seemed in a hurry to get back to her room, where as I was keen to chat to her for longer.

‘Are you coming out now? I’m meeting the others in town’.

She glanced away, ‘Oh. I’ve made other plans’.

It was clear that she didn’t want to divulge what the plans were or who they were with but a sinking feeling in my stomach told me I probably knew.

We said goodnight and I got changed into jeans and a jumper. A few minutes later after texting Fergus to find out where they were, I headed out onto the green lawns of Sallies quadrangle.

Straight ahead of me, walking towards the gate away from the halls, I saw them. Kate was smiling up at Rupert as he talked animatedly, gesturing with his hands. I heard her laugh ring over the quadrangle as she slipped an arm into his and realised that her dress, the hair and everything else was for his benefit. Not for the dinner’s, and certainly not for mine.

My stomach sunk into my feet.

*

Once I was aware of those feelings, I couldn’t escape them. Every little thing she did made me like her more. The way she got up early to go swimming even when she’d had a late night. When she was so raging drunk that she had to be carried into bed. The way she was so into her studies that even when we all teased her, she still worked harder than all of us combined. And how she would do anything to stop me winning in our tennis matches.

Rupert had become a regular feature at Sallies, and I had gotten used to seeing him around. Not that I was particularly happy about it.

One night after a bar crawl, we were all stumbling to our corridor and Kate was attempting to drag him to her room.

‘I have to go, or I’ll miss my study group in the morning’ he told her.

‘Please please please’ she said, locking her arms around his neck. He held onto her waist to keep her standing.

‘I’ll text you tomorrow’, he seemed completely sober compared to her.

She pouted her bottom lip and attempted to kiss him.

‘Let’s get you to bed’ he said, and wrenched her arms apart.

I hung around in the corridor for the next twenty minutes, where my friends were congregating with pieces of jam and toast to help sober them up.

Rupert came out of Kate’s room not long after and trotted down the stairs without so much as a goodbye.

‘What a dick’ I slurred to no one in particular.

‘Who?’ Fergus said.

‘That bloody Rupert the Bear’.

Fergus laughed, ‘he’s an alright bloke’.

‘No. No.’ I waved my arms around aimlessly. ‘An alright bloke doesn’t say no to her’.

Fergus’ eyes lit up mischievously ‘I fucking knew it!’

‘What? No. It’s not like that. Don’t be a dick’.

He patted me on the back sympathetically, ‘plenty more fish’.

I slumped against the wall. ‘Yeh but but she’s not a fish though’.

‘No, you’re right, gotta respect women – she’s a woman, NOT a fish’.

To my mind the words coming out of my mouth were perfectly sensible, ‘she’s not just a fish, she’s a dolphin, like a really pretty dolphin’.

Fergus nodded gormlessly, ‘right, yeh a dolphin’.

It was when Fergus started making a squeaky dolphin call that I knew it was time to go to bed.

I was more than relieved to break up for Easter if only to get away from Fergus making dolphin noises whenever Kate was around.

*

That April, the trees started blooming in the quadrangle and I was happily settled at St Andrews, and doing a course I enjoyed.

For all of us at Sallies, thoughts had begun to move to what was going to happen next year. For me, it was harder than most, I not only had to find people to live with, but those people had to be ones I trusted. On the first day back after Easter, Fergus, Kate, and her friend Olivia came to me with a proposition.

‘We’ve been talking’ Fergus began. ‘You and I decided we wanted to live together next year right?’

‘Yehhh’

‘And Olivia and I want to live together’ Kate continued.

‘Okay’ I said.

‘So how about we all move in together’ Olivia concluded.

The idea of living with Kate next year had never really crossed my mind. In fact I’d worried that I wasn’t going to see her at all next year.

‘Are you sure you want to live with boys?’ was my first reaction.

Kate laughed. ‘To be honest Will, I think we’ve all left it a bit late. We should’ve started looking in February. I think we’re each other’s best options right now’.

‘I suppose…as long as you’re all comfortable with it’ I was speaking collectively but only looking at Kate.

They all nodded and so it was decided. Within the week, Kate and Olivia had found a little house in Hope Street for us to move into. Once my security had made its checks and plans, the contracts were sent to Kate.

One evening, she came to my room, contract in hand. My room looked like a bomb had hit it and I swept around picking up dirty underwear and socks from the floor. She’d only been to my room a number of times during the year as I tended not to invite anyone in.

‘I hope you’re going to be tidier in the new house’ she joked as I tripped over my desk chair in an attempt to hide the two week old pizza box on my TV.

‘Course, it’s just revision time, you know?’

She tilted her head to one side, ‘I’m joking Will. Though you are a slob’

‘Oh. Yeah I knew that’.

She handed me my contract and made to leave.

‘Is there anything I need to look out for in the contract?’ I asked in a vain attempt to keep her there.

‘Just what you’d expect. If you paint a wall, paint it back when you leave. No pets. Pay for anything you break, that sort of thing.’

‘What about guests staying over?’ I said, my mind formulating a way to ask about Rupert.

‘I think it’s ok as long as they don’t end up living there’

‘Right yeah, so, um, does Rupert mind you living with two guys’. Evidently my attempt to be subtle failed.

Kate blushed and started adjusting her hair, which was in a high bun. ‘We’re not seeing each other anymore’.

If I could’ve floated up to the ceiling I would’ve.

‘Since when?’ I said, trying to sound casual.

‘Oh just before Easter’

‘Sorry’

‘It’s fine. Anyway I better get on’. She said it so quickly that I didn’t get a chance to ask her what happened.

I regarded Kate as one of my closest university friends and yet I couldn’t help feeling a little deflated that she hadn’t already entrusted that information to me. We talked about almost everything together. She teased me when I was being stupid, calmed me down when I was pissed off, and guided me when I was feeling a bit lost. There was still or door that wasn’t open to me, and I knew if I didn’t act soon I would never be let in.

*

Kate now being free and single had a strange effect on me. I was jubilant and yet still reluctant to do anything other than admire her from afar. As far as I could tell, she had no idea how I felt and no feelings for me in return. We continued to hang out as normal in our group, until one night, Olivia and her loose lips changed everything.

It was a raucous post-exam blow out in June and seemed like the whole of Sallies had come out on the quad to celebrate the end of the first year. Streamers, foam and toilet roll covered the trees and grass. Stereos were placed in about ten different windows causing a mass of different music to bounce of the buildings. Alcohol was in plentiful supply and we had a variety of bottles scattered on our section of grass.

Kate and her girlfriends were sat under one of the trees chatting and giggling. I watched as a couple of them got up, leaving just Kate and Olivia hidden by the tree’s canopy of branches.

‘Hi’ I said, walking over and hovering over them awkwardly.

‘Hello’ Kate said and patted the ground next to her, ‘sit’.

I sat down and helped myself to some wine. ‘Having fun?’

‘Yes, apart from we keep getting deserted so those two can go and flirt with the fourth floor lads’ Olivia said.

I looked over to where their two friends were play fighting with some boys over a bowl full of pink liquid that was apparently a cocktail.

‘Do you not fancy some of that fluorescent drink?’ I said to Kate.

‘No thank you!’ she winced.

‘Because you’re a lightweight?’

‘I’m not a lightweight, it just looks disgusting’

I smirked at her as a reminder of the time I had to take her home at 11pm after she had mixed her drinks.

She pulled up a bit of grass and threw it at me, ‘shut up’

‘I don’t believe I said anything’ I laughed.

‘You don’t have to say anything. Your face is annoying’

I spluttered into my wine, ‘my face is annoying?’

‘Yes – you have a smug face’ she clarified.

‘That’s mean. I think I might need to rethink moving in with you’

‘Good’

‘Great’ I threw a wine cork at her and it bounced off her knee.

‘You’re such a child’ she laughed.

‘You started it’ I pulled up some grass and sprinkled it in her hair.

‘That went in my wine!’ she squeaked.

‘As fun as this is, I think I might go mingle’, Olivia stood up abruptly.

I’d forgotten she was even there.

‘Sorry Liv! It’s Will’s fault, stay please’ Kate gave her a winning smile.

‘I think Will would rather have you to himself’ she said, not unkindly.

Kate stopped her protests and went bright red. The smile was wiped off my face too and I stared into my glass.

‘Ooookay, I’ll leave you two to it’ Olivia escaped, looking amused.

We sat quietly until I could think of something to say. I hadn’t realised that Olivia knew how I felt about Kate. In hindsight, it was obvious. The way I buzzed around her. The way she was the only person who I’d get up for to go for an early swim with. The fact that she was the only girl I complimented on nights out.

‘We can swop wines…if yours has grass in it’ I offered wetly.

‘It’s only a couple of blades’ she smiled, but wouldn’t look at me.

Now was my opportunity and I knew it.

‘So that was awkward’

‘Liv can be a bit funny when she’s been drinking’, she said, consciously pulling down the denim skirt she was wearing.

Around us, bodies were falling over and entwining with each other in a messy display of alcohol fuelled passion. I looked at her, wishing I could be that uninhibited at that moment.

‘I don’t mind being alone with you’ I said abruptly.

‘Yeah, it’s fine’ she said, looking around the quad.

‘I mean, I like being alone with you’.

She looked at me, her cheeks turning slightly red to match the colour her lips had become from the wine.

‘I think you’re really cool’ I continued, cringing at my every word. She knew what I was trying to say but wouldn’t take the bait.

‘Thanks’ she said quietly.

‘Do you think that maybe when we get back next semester…I could take you out or something?’

She finally stopped staring into her glass and looked up at me.

I wanted the ground to swallow me up. The look of sympathy on her face was excruciating.

‘I’m really flattered, but um, sorry, but no’

‘No?’

‘I think you’re lovely Will, I really do, but not in that way.’

‘Is it Rupert?’ I asked out of nowhere.

She seemed taken aback, ‘no of course not’

‘Why did you two break up?’ Since I’d already humiliated myself I had nothing to lose.

‘Because he was too busy with uni stuff … it’s not really important though’

I fired off another question, ‘you seemed to really like him’

‘Well yes…but I think I went out with him out of being homesick more than anything. Anyway –‘ she said before I could ask anything more about Rupert. ‘ – I am sorry, I didn’t know that you liked me’

I fidgeted with my glass, ‘I kind of thought you might like me a little bit’

Her body stiffened in surprise, ‘why?’

‘Just how you kind of look away when we’re talking sometimes’

There was that look of sympathy again. ‘I did that because I didn’t want you to think I was flirting. I know how much hassle you get from girls and I really didn’t want you to think I was one of them’

I nodded slowly, ‘well this is embarrassing’.

She put her hand on my knee which didn’t help the situation, ‘let’s just forget about it, I won’t tell anyone’.

‘I think everyone already knows’, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. ‘Anyway I’m gonna go chat to the boys’.

‘I’m sorry’ she said again as I got up.

‘It’s fine’, I lied.

*

Summer was a welcome break after Kate’s rejection. I spent time at Highgrove and in London, as well as on the polo field. Female company was plentiful, but even when a girl was laughing at my jokes and obviously flirting with me, I couldn’t get Kate out of my head.

She didn’t even have to try to make me like her. She had an ease about her that made me feel at home whenever she was around and I missed that. I had invited all my university friends to Highgrove, but Kate had declined, sending me a simple text to say she was going on holiday.

When we got back to St Andrews in the Autumn, I had no idea how I was going to be around her.

Arriving to our house in Hope Street, I found my housemates in the living room deciding on the position of the television.

‘Finally!’ Fergus said as I walked in. He came over to give me a welcome whack on the back.

Olivia queued behind him and gave me a hug as she said hello. When I got to Kate, she gave me a loose hug with her head turned in the other direction.

‘Good to see you’ she said as she pulled away.

That evening, Kate and Olivia went out to get some Chinese food as Fergus and I stayed in to cart the girls’ boxes up the stairs.

‘What is going on with you two?’ Fergus said as I passed him on the landing.

‘Who?’

‘You and Mother Teresa, who’d you think?’

‘Nothing’ I said shortly, dropping a box of shoes into Olivia’s room.

‘Bullshit. You’ve been avoiding her all day. Spill’, he leant against the bannister.

‘I asked her out alright? And she said no’

Fergus was a hawk when it came to gossip and his face opened up like an excited child, ‘when?’

‘Before the break. Now can you hurry up and get those other boxes’. I was irritable but he knew my breaking point and I was nowhere near it yet.

‘What was her reason?’

‘She doesn’t fancy me, what else’

‘Urgh. So that’s it, you’re not speaking to her now?’

‘I am speaking to her, but I’d rather avoid humiliating myself again’

He ran down the stairs and ran back up with Kate’s radio, ‘oh come on, you two have so much in common’

‘Thanks genius’ I said sarcastically.

‘So why have you given up so easily?’

‘Did you not hear what I just said?’ I ran back down the stairs to pick up another of Olivia’s boxes. I was leaving all Kate’s stuff for Fergus.

‘Oh come on Willy, if at first you don’t succeed…’ he grinned like the Cheshire cat.

‘I’m not trying again!’

‘Mate, stop being a wimp, you said it yourself, you humiliated yourself, you can’t go any lower than that!’

In a twisted way, what he was saying made sense. Kate knew how I felt now, I’d already done the hard bit.

Fergus winked at me conspiratorially. ‘She might’ve changed her mind over the summer, you never know’.

*

Kate hadn’t changed her mind, I found out the next day.

She’d asked me to go on a long walk with her to clear the air. As we walked up the hills of Fife, she spent ten minutes telling me how nice I was and how sorry she was about how insensitively she’d reacted.

‘So there’s no chance you’d want to go on a date then?’ I said with my new found realisation that I had nothing to lose.

The hair was whipping her hair all over her face and she pulled it back, ‘no, but I love you as a friend, I really do!’

‘Thing is Kate, we have a lot in common, don’t you think it’d be a shame not to try?’

She looked a little surprised but kept her trademark composure, ‘I don’t want to lead you on’.

‘You wouldn’t be because I know how you feel – or don’t feel’ I offered.

She tucked some strands behind her ear which immediately became loose. ‘We have to live together, let’s not ruin that’.

‘If it doesn’t work out, that’s fine’ I said.

She looked at me through her dark lashes, ‘I’m sorry’, she said, cutting the conversation short.

I was beginning to hate the sound of that word.

*

The thing about Kate was that she was extremely popular with the boys. When we went out she would get multiple offers, and said no to all of them.

On the week we came back to university, a large group of us met at Ma Bells for a bar crawl. Kate was wearing jeans and a strappy black top, with her trademark hair curling down her back. I did my best not to stare at her.

The place was packed, full of freshers who were already half cut. As we stood at the bar attempting to buy some drinks, one of the drunken guys clambered up to Kate.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he said, his glass of beer splashing over his hand.

‘No thank you’ she said and turned her gaze back to the bar.

‘Come oooon. It’s a free drink!’ he placed his arm around her waist and she shrugged him off.

‘I said no’ she said, more sternly this time. ‘Please don’t touch me’.

‘Whatever Morticia’ as he walked away, his hand grazed along her bum.

She turned and tried to slap his hand away but missed. He laughed in her face and carried on walking.

My heart pounded with anger and I pushed myself off the bar with the intention of grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him to apologise.

A warm hand landed on my forearm and stopped me before I could get anywhere near him.

‘Leave it. Please’ she said.

‘He’s a…’ I started.

‘A caveman, I know. But you don’t need to be in the papers for having a bar fight. At least not in the first week back’. Despite the noise in the room, her voice was gentle. ‘I appreciate it though, thank you’.

I held onto her green eyes for a fraction longer than I should’ve before nodding.

That night taught me two things. One. That Kate wasn’t just a friend. She was a best friend who would protect my reputation above herself. Two. That every other guy in St Andrews would never treat her as well as I would.

And I was determined to prove it.

*

The following day I asked Kate on a date again. She said no.

And so on the following day I asked her once more. She said, regretfully, no again.

A week on I found an advert in a newspaper for an opera that was coming to Fife. I knew she liked opera, so tore it out and scribbled ‘you and me?’ on it. I slipped it under her door one evening. In the morning I found it on the floor next to my door with ‘You, me, Fergus and Liv?’ written on it with a smiley face.

We went back and forth like that for weeks, with her saying no in the most polite way she could to every idea I had. But even she had a limit to her patience.

By the end of October, and on average, after five requests for a date every week for a month, Kate had stopped being so gracious and had stopped apologising for rejecting me. Instead she’d reply to my texts with You know this is classed as harassment, don’t you? or No thanks stalker.

I liked it better that way.

Late one evening I lay in bed unable to sleep and shot her a text.

You awake?

A reply came a few seconds later.

Yes.

What you doing?

Reading.

Can I come and read with you?

No you can’t.

Liv and Fergus won’t hear.

No.

There’s an old book store in town, it sells antique books and stuff.

I know, I keep meaning to visit that place.

Shall we go together?

In a purely platonic way, then yes.

Great, I love books.

Course you do.

I do!

I don’t think I’ve seen you reading for pleasure in the whole time I’ve known you.

I do it in secret. I’m quite brooding and mysterious like that.

LOL.

Why is that funny?

Go to sleep William.

That weekend the two of us visited the book store, Bouquiniste in town. It was a cold October day and Kate was wrapped up in a big coat and red scarf. I teased her about overdoing the winter gear but resisted the urge to tell her she actually looked quite cute.

Bouquiniste was shabby from the outside with a worn out sign and books covering the windows. When we got inside, it was as dark and dusty as expected, but Kate seemed to love it.

The shop keeper gave us a quick hello from behind the counter and carried on reading her book. For a small shop, it crammed a lot in to its three aisles that spanned the width of the space. After walking down each aisle, we ended up at the back of the shop in the classics section.

‘Oooh Emma!’ Kate whispered.

I turned around looking for the source of Kate’s excitement, ‘who?’

She laughed quietly. ‘Emma…you know the book?’

I looked at her blankly.

‘Jane Austen?’ she added.

‘I know who that is!’ I said triumphantly.

She rolled her eyes, ‘Emma is one of her books. It’s my favourite Austen. And this copy is Victorian, isn’t it gorgeous?’

She handed me the book which was slightly tattered and covered in a deep red patterned leather jacket.

I sniffed it and coughed, ‘it’s a bit musty. Is it a first edition?’

‘William!’ she said in scandalised hushed tones. ‘Jane Austen was not from the Victorian era, honestly, you have so much to learn’.

‘Maybe I could have a private Austen lesson from you?’

She rolled her eyes again and put the book back carefully.

‘Is that a yes?’ I asked as we moved along the shelves.

‘You know it’s not a yes’, she said trying to hide a smile.

‘I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn about this’ I said, pretending to look at an old art book on the shelf.

‘I don’t know why you’re being so persistent’ she said in return.

‘I thought that was obvious actually’ I laughed drily.

She shook her head and turned away.

‘It would be so much easier if you just said yes you know’

‘Or you could just stop asking me’

‘Am I really that repulsive?’ I looked at her, pretending to be sad and she hit me lightly on the shoulder.

‘I’m not looking for anything like that from anyone right now’

‘So we can just go on a date! I’m not asking you to marry me’ I realised that I was acting like an annoying child, but it seemed to be working.

‘You don’t give up do you?’

I grinned widely. ‘How about this. You let me take you out on one date, and by the end, if you’re still not interested, I’ll admit defeat. I won’t ask you out ever again.’

I watched her as she mulled it over, scanning my face with her curious green eyes.

‘It’s going to be a long couple of years otherwise’ I added for good measure.

‘Alright fine!’

‘Really?!’ I don’t know who was more surprised, her or me.

‘Yes, but you have to promise you’ll stop after the date. And it’s only one date’ she said, pointing at me like I was a naughty child.

‘I promise. You never know, you might come back for more’

‘Shut up’ she laughed. ‘We’ll never get your head back through the door at this rate’.

*

All my intentions of knuckling down to study that week were quickly forgotten. We had set a date for the following Friday which gave me a few days to prepare.

Unfortunately for me – and for Kate – going on a date to a restaurant wasn’t realistic for me and so I had to be a little more inventive. There came the benefit of being friends; I knew what she liked and didn’t like and could create a date purely aimed for her.

By the time Friday rolled around, all I had told Kate was that she needed to wrap up warm and wear some walking shoes.

‘So where are we going?’ she asked, eyeing up the big backpack I was wearing as we got into my car.

‘You’ll have to wait and see’ I smiled as I put the bag in the boot.

‘I’m guessing we’re going on a hike? That or we’re leaving the country, what on earth is in that bag?’ she asked.

‘So many questions! Just enjoy the drive’ I started the ignition and made my way out of St Andrews.

The entire duration of our twenty minute drive was spent with Kate interrogating me about our destination. Unfortunately, she was astute enough to realise we were driving to the coast and that we’d be going hill walking when we got there.

‘Eleven o’ clock is quite early for a date, you know?’ she said as we approached Anstruther.

‘Hey, you said we could go on one date, you didn’t specify any time limit! I’m taking advantage of the opportunity’. I glanced in her direction and was pleased to see she was smiling.

I parked up on a scenic spot on the sea front and we headed out on the coastal trail.

‘Do you want me to carry any of that? I feel kind of bad that I’m not carrying anything’ Kate asked, looking at the backpack again.

‘I’ve got it thanks. And if that’s your way of finding out what’s in here, then try harder’

She narrowed her eyes at me and gave up.

Over the next hour we wove our way around the coast line of the small fishing village of Anstruther. Avoiding the harbour with its shops and cafes, we kept to the walking trail which was flat, but slightly rocky at times. Nevertheless, it was away from the main part of the village, which was exactly what I wanted.

The two of us chatted easily as we walked about the village, university and home. Truth be told, I hadn’t planned the conversations out like I had everything else and the line between a date and two friends going for a walk was blurry.

‘So, you still thinking of curating after uni?’ I asked, trying to steer the date into less familiar territory.

‘I think so’ she said, kicking some stones along the shore as she went. ‘I’d love to work with art every day. You know, set up exhibitions, get people engaged with it and stuff. I think it can come across kind of stuffy and pretentious’.

‘You’re telling me!’ I scoffed.

‘Will…why did you even take History of Art? I’ve kind of always wondered’

‘Because I didn’t know what else would be…useful. For my future, I mean’, I flinched thinking about the tense conversation I had with my father when I decided to drop the course.

‘It just seems so unsuited to you now, sometimes I can’t believe you even took it’, she looked up and smiled at me sweetly.

‘I know I know. At least I fixed it before it was too late’.

She hesitated for a moment and then carried on talking, ‘what do you think you’ll do after uni?’

How refreshing it was to have someone ask me that, and how happy I was that it was her asking.

‘Go into the army I suppose. Until…until I can’t anymore’. I stopped short. I hated thinking about my life after university.

‘What would you like to do, if things were different?’ she asked softly.

‘You mean if I were normal?’ I said sarcastically.

‘No’ she said plainly. ‘I mean if your life was normal. You’re already pretty normal from where I’m standing’

I held back on grinning like an idiot and concentrated on answering the question, ‘I’d want to do something that was making a difference, something with conservation in Africa if I could, or a paramedic even’

‘Those are two pretty different jobs’ she laughed.

‘You know what I’m getting at though…don’t you?’

‘I do’, she said placing her hand on my arm. For a moment I thought she was going to hook it in the crook of my arm like she did with Rupert. ‘You want to be able to make use of yourself for the greater good, that’s pretty cool’.

‘Shame I won’t get the chance’ I said, raising my eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’ she said, suddenly animated. ‘You’re going to have an amazing opportunity to be a voice for all of this stuff’

‘I’d like to be more than a voice’ I said resentfully.

‘Oh Will, stop!’

She meant it metaphorically, but I did so physically, halting on the shore. She did the same and turned to me.

‘I know your future is really scary – God knows I couldn’t do it – but you have the biggest platform anyone could hope for. You’re going to be able to give all of the things a step up. So maybe you won’t be able to work with the animals in Africa, but you’ll be able to tell the WHOLE WORLD about it and they’ll listen!’

She gesticulated wildly with her hands.

‘You really think people will listen to me?’ I said cynically.

‘Well not at the moment no. Maybe when you grow up a bit though’. She shrugged and began climbing some rocks.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I called to her, clambering behind.

She turned and grinned wickedly at me.

‘Are you just trying to wind me up?’ I said, exasperated.

‘Maybe – or maybe I’m just trying to show you the positive’. She plopped herself down onto a rock. ‘I’m kind of hungry’.

‘You don’t take any bullshit, do you’ I said, sitting next to her.

‘Not really’ she leant her head on her knees. ‘Does it make you like me less?’

‘Nope. More.’

*

Kate was delighted to find that some of the items in my bag were two bowls, two spoons, some bread, and a thermal flask full of tomato soup.

‘Did you make that?’ she asked as I poured a generous portion into her bowl.

‘What do you think?’

‘You never know!’ she laughed.

‘I didn’t have time to take cooking lessons this week, otherwise I would’ve’.

She patted my knee, ‘this is fine’.

‘Maybe on our next date I’ll cook for you’ I sniggered, but she merely looked at me sideways while she ate a piece of bread.

When lunch was done with, I slipped a baseball cap on to disguise myself and we wondered back into the village to have a look around. It was a fairly cold November day and it almost felt like we had the place to ourselves.

‘So is this a good date so far?’ I asked her.

‘Pretty good, yes’.

‘The best you’ve ever been on?’ I ventured.

‘Ask me when it’s over’ she laughed.

There wasn’t a lot to see in the village other than a few shops so we decided to go into the most touristy shop we could find.

The shop was covered in tartan paraphernalia, from bags to hats and umbrellas.

‘I should get that for my brother’ I joked, pointing at a tartan hat that had long ginger hair attached to it.

Kate laughed and browsed through a rack of cheap kilts, ‘you should wear one of these’.

‘I don’t think I’ve got the legs’.

‘Course you have, every man looks good in a kilt’, she held a pink and green one up to my waist.

I took a step towards her, ‘even me?’

I thought I saw her blush and she put the kilt down, ‘even you’.

After walking around the shop, we ended up at the confectionary counter where they were selling local sweets and fudge.

‘That looks yummy’ Kate said, and she bent down to survey the different flavours, ‘shall we get some for the house?’

We chose a selection of clotted cream, strawberry and vanilla and I insisted on paying for it as Kate looked at the boiled sweets.

When we left the shop, I handed her a small paper bag of fudge.

‘Are we going to eat it all before we get home?’

‘No, this one is just for you’

She opened it to find chunky cubes of chocolate and mint fudge. ‘How did you know I like chocolate and mint?’ she asked, beaming.

‘I pay attention to you’

‘Oh. Well thank you, that’s very sweet of you’, she handed me a piece and we went back to find a secluded area on the shore to sit.

For the next couple of hours, we simply sat and talked while polishing off the bag of fudge. We talked about our families and the weird traditions we had at Christmas. I laughed at the thought of her father dressed up in various costumes as their Christmas day tradition. Kate laughed as I described some of the gifts my brother and I had bought my grandmother over the years.

We talked about children – Kate wanted three, and I wanted two.

We even talked about exes, and why they were exes.

‘You know you’re very dear to me, don’t you?’ she said after we discussed which exes we were still friends with.

‘But not in a “you’re hot” way?’

She rested her head on my shoulder, ‘in a “you’re an awesome friend and always will be” kind of way’.

‘I suppose I’ll take that’ I leant my cheek against the top of her head.

For all my trying, a second date wasn’t looking hopeful. Yet being in her company, separated from everyone else was enough in that moment.

‘Are you ready for dinner?’ I said after a few moments, noticing she was closing her eyes.

The sun was beginning to set and it was going to get pretty cold, despite it only being five o’ clock.

She popped her head up, ‘there’s dinner too?’

‘I told you I was taking advantage of the time with you didn’t I?’ I stood up and reached out to pull her up.

We walked up to the harbour again and found the place I’d looked up online.

‘Ansthruser Fish Bar’ she said, ‘are we having fish and chips?!’

‘We are, if that’s ok with you? This place is award winning apparently’

‘I love fish and chips!’ she said as if she wasn’t expecting a fish and chip shop in a fishing village.

‘I know Kate’.

When we got back to our spot, the tide had stared to roll in, so we placed ourselves on a grassy bank higher up.

‘Hold on’ I said as Kate began to sit down.

I opened up my bag and pulled out a picnic blanket and three candles that I’d stolen from next to our bath.

‘Are those Liv’s candles?’ Kate laughed.

‘She won’t miss them’. I placed them in a line along the blanket and lit them all with a lighter.

‘You thought of everything didn’t you?’ she said as she sat down and carefully unwrapped the fish and chips.

‘This is my attempt at romance’. I pulled out a bottle of red wine from the bag and two plastic glasses.

She laughed when she saw it and remarked that I was like Mary Poppins.

As the dusk settled, we ate our dinner in a comfortable silence. When Kate pulled her sleeves down to cover her cold hands, I dug around my bag to find the blanket I’d packed for that very possibility.

I placed it on her lap and she let out a quiet ‘oh’ of surprise.

‘Have you had a good day?’ I said slightly out of sorts. She was looking at me in a very odd way.

‘It’s been lovely Will, really’.

We sat looking at each other for a moment as I thought of something clever to say. She really was very pretty.

‘The candle’

‘What?’ I said, breaking the moment.

‘The candle!’ she launched up, throwing everything off her.

One of the candles was lying on its side having fallen over. It was quickly catching onto the threads of the picnic blanket.

Kate acted immediately, stomping on the small fire until it was extinguished.

‘Well that was a disastrous end!’ I said blowing out the other ones.

‘It was an eventful end.’ She laughed. ‘And in answer to your question before, I suppose, yes it is.’

*

It took me some time to figure out what she had meant by that statement. I ploughed through our conversations from the date, until, finally I accepted that she meant that it was the best date she’d been on. I tried not to look too much into it. Kate had made it clear that she only liked me as a friend and I had accepted it.

I kept to my promise and didn’t ask her out again, but couldn’t help flirting with her in the week that followed our date. I was pushing my luck, I knew, but to my surprise, she didn’t resist as much as she had before.  When I complimented her, she no longer accused me of trying to woo her. And when I held onto her waist as I squeezed past her in our small kitchen, she didn’t seem to mind. She even let me monopolise her time when we went out, as we danced until the early hours.

On one particular Friday, the four of us staggered back into the house at four am.

‘It’s freezing!’ Olivia squealed, throwing her bag on the couch. ‘I’m putting the heating on’

‘The radiators need bleeding, it’s not going to make much of a difference’ Kate said, kicking her heels off.

‘Why haven’t you boys done anything about it!’ Olivia shouted from the kitchen, where she was attempting to work out the central heating switch.

‘Why should we do it?!’ Fergus said, collapsed on the floor.

‘That’s very sexist Liv’ I laughed.

She popped her head around the kitchen doorway, ‘just because you don’t know how to do it’

‘Course I do!’

Kate laughed quietly and I immediately felt the need to prove myself. Most people assumed that I was useless around the house, and for the most part they were right. I couldn’t cook, hated cleaning and Kate had to teach me how to use a washing machine. But I was resourceful.

‘What you laughing at?’ I said, poking her in ribs.

‘Nothing’ she said, slapping my finger away.

‘Fine, I’ll do yours first!’ I grabbed radiator key from under the sink and legged it up the stairs and into her room.

The three of them ran after me and watched as I knelt down next to her radiator. I slotted the key onto the screw and attempted to turn it.

‘Erm do you know what you’re doing?’ Fergus asked from the doorway.

‘Yeh!’ I said slightly too loudly as I struggled to turn the key, ‘the air just needs to come out’

After a minute of me struggling with it, Fergus and Olivia gave up on me and left to go to bed. Kate stood behind me looking concerned.

‘It’s fine Wi –‘ she began just as I wrenched the screw.

‘ARGH!’. Boiling hot water came spilling from the side of the radiator and onto my hand. ‘FUCKING HELL!’

The pain seared across my hand and I shook it manically. ‘GOD THAT HURTS!’

Kate ran out of the room and was back within seconds with a bowl of cool water and a flannel. ‘Come here’, she ordered.

I sat on the edge of her bed and she dipped the flannel in the water and squeezed the water over the back of my hand. She continued to do it in silence, dousing my hand with the water.

‘Maybe you shouldn’t have done that with the central heating on’ she said.

‘Sorry’ I mumbled.

‘It’s ok’ she gave the top of my hand a little stroke.

‘You know, you’ll make a good wife to someone one day’ I said. ‘Though not to me’

She smiled, ‘well you’ll make a good husband too. When you learn how to do manly things around the house’

‘And maybe I should work on my first dates too’

‘Your first date skills are fine’

‘Because it was your best date ever?’

‘Well yes’ she said, focusing on my hand.

‘But not good enough for another one?’

Kate bit her lip and avoided making eye contact with me, ‘mmm’.

‘Mmm? What does that mean?’

‘Nothing…’ I could almost see the cogs turning in her head. ‘I just wouldn’t mind if there was another one’.

I stopped short and gaped at her. ‘Are you serious?’

She said nothing but her cheeks were turning pink.

‘You want to go out with me again?’

‘Maybe’

‘Maybe? MAYBE?!’ I roared with laughter.

‘Shhhh!’

Suddenly the pain in my hand disappeared. ‘I can’t believe after all that, you ACTUALLY want to go out with me. I thought you weren’t interested?’

‘I changed my mind’ she said.

‘Why?’. The grin was plastered onto my face.

‘Because you’re sweet…and you take notice of things. And you’re persistent’

‘I thought that annoyed you?’

‘It did. It does’ she laughed. ‘But it was also quite nice in a way’

‘Do you fancy me Kate?’ I challenged, because I wanted to hear her say it.

She rolled her eyes, so I poked her in the ribs again with my good hand.

‘Do you do you do you?’ I continued poking until she physically had to push me away.

‘Yes! Ok? Yes’.

*

That night marked the beginning of our relationship. The friendship that we’d carved over the past year had given us the foundation for what would become some of the happiest years of my life. But even stuck in our little bubble of St Andrews, I was determined to protect her from everything that came from being my girlfriend.

For the first few months, we’d go out with friends in tow. At the cinema, we would all go in huddled together, but once inside the room, Kate and I would sit at the end of the row discreetly holding hands in the dark.

It wasn’t so easy to be affectionate elsewhere, but we made do with friendly cuddles and a kiss on the cheek when we met for coffee after lectures.

Our first kiss didn’t need to be so discreet. We had stayed in one evening in early December while Olivia and Fergus took advantage of the cheap pre-Christmas drink deals at Ma Bells. We were grateful for the time alone that had so far been confined to one of our bedrooms with our housemates wolf whistling through the door.

Kate had taken over the spaghetti bolognaise that I had attempted for our fourth date, and was gently stirring the mince in a new pan as I scraped the burnt remains off the first one in the sink.

‘Leave it to soak, it will come off easier later’, she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

I threw the scourer onto the draining board, filled the pan with water and huffed.

‘It might need a squirt of Fairy Liquid too’ she said carefully.

I grabbed the washing up liquid and squirted a generous amount into the water without saying a word.

‘There’s no need to sulk’ Kate giggled.

‘I’m not sulking, I’m just pissed off it went wrong AGAIN’, I glared at the floor, thinking of the two other dinners I’d ruined recently.

‘To be fair, you were just not concentrating, it would’ve been ok if you kept stirring it’

‘Yeah well I got distracted’ I said.

‘By what?’

‘By looking at you’

‘Oh so it’s my fault now is it?!’, she carried on stirring with one hand, but used the other to smack me with a tea towel.

‘Yes, I was deep in thought’

‘About what…or do I not want to know?’

‘About how I’d like to kiss you but I don’t know if you want to kiss me’

She stopped stirring and a smile crept across her mouth, ‘why don’t you try and find out’

Heart thumping, I walked over to her and leant down. She didn’t look up from the cooker until I’d given her a peck on the lips. When I did it again, she responded, settling her face into mine. Her lips were as soft as I’d imagined and her scent was one that I only could identify when I got that close to her. Raspberries.

I removed her hand from where it was clasped around the wooden spoon and locked my fingers into hers.

It was as if everything had slotted neatly into place.

*

Our relationship wasn’t one of huge public displays of affection or massive passionate breaks ups and make ups. It was a deep and comfortable connection that no one could rival.

She was the person I could talk to about anything, knowing that she would understand my need to go over things over and over again. She was patient and kind, but was never shy in putting me in my place.

Falling in love with her had crept up on me.

In our third year, we had move out of Hope Street and into a more remote cottage just out of town. It gave us the opportunity to take long walks in the countryside, spending hours talking until it got dark. The realisation that I loved her came after one of these walks when Kate was curled up in my bed having fallen asleep while we were watching a film.

Her hair was fanned across the pillow and her fingers were curling in and out of her palm. I wondered what she was dreaming about. I suddenly realised that I wanted it to be like that for the rest of my life. I wanted to see her every morning and talk about what we’d dreamed about the night before. I wanted her to fall asleep next to me every day and subconsciously nestle into my side like she often did in the middle of the night.

Words were not my forte, however.

The following day, I went out to buy a card for our first anniversary. Throwing out any formalities, I just wrote ‘love you’ on a postcard of Anstruther that I’d found in the newsagents.

‘Here you go’ I said, giving her the postcard and kissing her in the kitchen later. ‘Happy anniversary’.

There was the smell of something chocolatey coming from the oven.

‘Aww thank you’ she said taking it and laughing at the postcard without reading the back. She placed it down on the counter. ‘I know we said no gifts but I thought I’d bake you something’.

She opened the oven and pulled out a tray of brownies. My postcard suddenly looked very lacklustre.

I thanked her and we engaged in a long cuddle. ‘Are you going to read the card?’, I said, mumbling into her hair.

She looked up at me suspiciously, and untangled an arm to grab the postcard. I watched her face turn from amusement to surprise as she read the back.

‘You don’t have to say it back’ I jumped in as she was about to speak.

‘Don’t you want me to?’ she said.

‘Course I do, just…no pressure’.

‘I love you too’ she said shyly.

They were the words I never thought I’d hear from a woman, let alone a woman like her.

*

While Kate continued to study hard for her degree, I left all the academic work until the last minute, preferring instead to play sports or go out and get drunk. University for me was a once in a lifetime experience. I was well aware that this level of freedom would never come my way again and I was determined to exploit it.

Kate would often remark that I still acted like a fresher well into our final year. She on the other hand was mature beyond her years. She had plans for everything; colour coded charts and lists upon lists of things she had to do. I encouraged her to be more spontaneous, and would often take her to the coast at a minute’s notice just to break the cycle.

On a January day in our final year, she was holed up in her bedroom working on her draft introduction for her dissertation. Her tutor had wanted it the following day and she’d spent days poring over each of the 2000 words.

‘Do you want to get some air?’ I said, appearing at her door with a cup of tea.

She was sat in her usual position, cross legged on her bed, with her notes and laptop in an ordered chaos around her.

‘I need to get this done’, she said without looking up, her eyebrows furrowed.

‘How many drafts have you done of this draft?’ I laughed.

She didn’t find it funny and merely shook her head.

I sat next to her, being careful not to mess up her notes and rubbed her back, ‘come on, it’s only the introduction, you’ve got months to change it. He just wants to see you’ve made a start’

‘How can you be so relaxed about it?’

‘Because it’s not a big deal’ I said.

‘It is to me’ she snapped.

‘It’s our last few months, we should be enjoying it’

‘I came to university to get a good degree, not to get wasted every night’ she didn’t look at me but she didn’t need to.

‘Fine’ I growled, placing the tea on her bedside table, and left the room.

It was our first proper argument, and the first one that I didn’t give in on. Late that night, she crept into my room and burrowed under the covers.

‘Have you finished it?’ I asked, still wide awake.

‘Yep. Finally’ she whispered.

We lay next to each other for the best part of fifteen minutes, listening to the ticking of my clock.

‘I’m sorry’ she finally said. ‘I love you.’

I tuned over and pulled her close. That was the thing about Kate; she had me wrapped around her little finger. Even for someone as stubborn as me, I couldn’t remain angry with her. I was firmly under her spell.

*

In our final months at St Andrews, we spent as much time as we could together. Naturally, all talk in our house turned to the dreaded post-uni plans. With Fergus, Olivia and many of our other friends deciding on masters or jobs to apply for, I shied away from the question.

That is with everyone apart from Kate. We talked at length about the future as individuals and as a couple. She worried that we wouldn’t get to see each other after we left Scotland, and secretly I worried about it too. We talked for hours, trying to plan how and when we would see each other and how we could keep it quiet from the media. The constant conversations exhausted us both and we began to get frustrated that there was no simple answer.

It was something that consumed us over those final months. Each time we spoke about it, we left it unresolved to the extent that we began avoiding it all together.

The issue only came up again one evening during a rowdy dinner party we’d thrown. Kate was sat on the staircase alone as the rest of our group of ten chatted noisily in the living room.

‘What you doing over here?’ I asked, taking a seat next to her.

‘Just taking some time out’. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

I took her hand, ‘what’s wrong?’

‘I’m just scared of things changing’

‘They don’t have to’ I said, resting my chin on her head.

‘What about in the future? Like years into the future?’ she said suddenly. ‘What will be expected of me?’

Conversations about our future was usually reserved for the immediate future, not years in advance. I thought carefully about what to say.

‘Well you’ll be expected to be a kind of support to me. But you can do whatever you want’ I added.

‘Are you sure about that?’ she looked at the ground.

‘Remember what you said on our first date? That I have the opportunity to support so many things. It’ll be the same for you…and you’ll be amazing at it, if it’s what you want of course?’

‘I want you’. It didn’t pass me by that she had avoided the question.

‘What about when the press find out about us. When they find out where I live, where I work…’

‘We can cross that bridge when we come to it. I’m going to look after you, don’t worry’, I smoothed down a wayward piece of her hair.

‘There’s this graduate traineeship I’ve seen, for curating’ she said, changing the subject.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah, it’s for two years. It looks pretty amazing’

I kissed her on the head, ‘you should apply for it, sounds perfect for you’

Curating was something Kate had talked about since our first year and it was an idea that she’d become more passionate about during her degree. Her enthusiasm for it was something that I was often jealous of; because I knew she could turn her passion into a career and I couldn’t.

She leant into me and sighed.

A hint of something twisted in my stomach; a reaction that I tried to ignore and push aside.

It was dread.

*

The final week of university was bittersweet.

My plan was to get some work experience at different places and then make a decision on what route to take. But my eagerness to begin my adult life properly was tinged with the knowledge that the best few years of my life were about to come to an end. I was going to miss my friends, who had become like a second family. I was going to miss the seclusion of St Andrews and the agreement with the media to leave me alone. But most of all, I was going to miss her.

We savoured the moments that we could see each other every day and took advantage of not having to plan the times that we saw each other. But the days seemed to pass so fast that even when we were together twenty-four seven, it didn’t feel like it was enough.

Bored of packing my room up, one afternoon, I went to distract Kate.

She was knelt on her bedroom floor carefully wrapping up some photo frames in bubble wrap.

‘That was an awesome night’ I said, pointing at a picture of her and I at a ball last year. I was wearing a suit, and she had on a little black wrap dress. She had danced me under the table that night.

She smiled sadly at the picture and wrapped it up, ‘there’s been a lot of awesome nights. I can’t imagine having so much fun over the last four years if you had left in first year’.

I sat down on the end of her bed, wrapping my legs around her. ‘I doubt I would’ve stayed if you weren’t here’.

She tilted her head up and began to speak, but noises of clattering from downstairs where Olivia was packing her kitchen stuff stopped her.

‘Shall we go for a walk?’ she said.

It was a warm May afternoon and with exams over, everything and everyone seemed more relaxed; even the Scottish weather.

We strolled hand in hand to our favourite isolated spot half a mile from the house, when she began to slow down.

‘I need to talk to you’. The tone in her voice was suddenly grave.

‘Ok’

‘I’ve been given a conditional offer for that traineeship’ she said.

I lit up immediately, ‘that’s amazing!’ I said, grabbing her into a hug.

She let me and then pulled away, ‘as long as I get a 2:1 or above, I’m on it’.

‘Brilliant, that’ll be no problem for you then’, I couldn’t disguise my pride at her achievement.

‘The thing is, it’s not all in the UK’

The atmosphere dropped around us, ‘where…’

‘There’ll be a few months in London, and then I go to Moscow, then Madrid, and Venice’

‘Wow, well I’ll miss you, but it’ll be an amazing experience, and you’ll come home often won’t you?’

She didn’t say anything and just looked into the distance.

‘Won’t you?’ I repeated.

‘It’s for two years with a possible proper job at the end of it’

‘What are you trying to say?’

‘I don’t think this…us…will work.’

I laughed but it came out sounding strained ‘we’ve talked about this, we can make it work.’

‘How? If I take this traineeship, we’ll be apart for two years, and when I come back I’ll get a job I love. Then what? I give it all up?’ Her face was set in an agonising expression.

‘Look, all that will happen when we get married. Before that, you can do whatever you want! You’ll have years before that’.

She remained unconvinced.

‘I thought you loved me’ I said, petulantly.

‘I do!’ she said, offended. ‘It’s just I’ve worked hard for the past four years….’

She didn’t have to continue because I understood what she meant. This is what she had been working towards for four years. The late nights, the stress, the argument we’d had; it was all building up to the moment she left university.

And I was asking her to put it all to one side for me.

Kate was everything I ever wanted and more. The problem was that ‘more’ didn’t include me.

‘Please don’t do this’ I said, feebly attempting to change her mind. ‘Go, enjoy it, but we don’t need to break up’

‘I think we do’

‘But WHY!?’ I said, almost shouting.

‘Because I’m not sure, and it’d be unfair to you to be not sure’, tears were pushing up into her eyes.

‘You’re not sure about me?’

‘Of course I’m sure about you. But I’m not sure that I could be totally happy living that life. I’m not sure I would be able to do it. Maybe in a few years that would change. But right now, I can’t keep wasting your time and pretending I’d be ok with it. Because I don’t know if I’m ok with it.’

I couldn’t argue with that. Who was I to hold her back, to ask her to commit herself to a life she didn’t want.

She cupped her palm around my face and leant her head against my chin, ‘I’m sorry Will.’

There was that word again, come back to haunt me.

*

We avoided each other for two days, not speaking or looking at each other. Even being in the same room together was torture.

We had all decided a week in advance that we’d spend our last night having dinner at the house and then go into town with our other friends.

Dinner was a tense affair and by the time we were ready to go out, I was ready to call it a night. Despite the fact Kate and I weren’t speaking, I still wanted to spend the final evening in her presence. Anything else would’ve felt wrong.

We made it to one of our favourite bars that we often visited to play pool. I could see Kate attempting to be cheerful, greeting our friends with hugs and pretending that everything was fine. She was in a denim skirt, tights and boots with a black top. Her hair was half pulled back from her face showing off every one of her features.

It was like a stab in every part of my body every time I remembered she was no longer mine.

Half way into the evening, some guys from uni decided they wanted to play pool with the girls in our group. One in particular from Kate’s course took a liking to her. He was tall, with strong broad shoulders and an easy confidence. Kate politely allowed him to show her how to aim into the pocket using a complicated ricochet move.

There was no touching, no sense of chemistry. Just a man showing a woman how to play pool. It was something that I would’ve ordinarily done.

She tried the move and failed, then tipped her head back and laughed.

I clenched my fists and made for the door, shoving the guy out of the way with my shoulder as I went.

‘Whoa! Careful mate’ I heard behind me. But the blood was rushing to my ears, pounding so loudly that I could barely hear.

I got home, slamming the door behind me and retreating to my room. I must’ve only been standing there for a few minute when Kate came bursting through my bedroom door.

‘What do you think you’re doing?!’ she shouted.

‘Go away’ I said, the words struggling to come out.

‘You were really rude back then’ she said angrily.

‘Well maybe you shouldn’t flirt with people right in front of my face’ I retorted.

‘I wasn’t flirting and you know it!’

I did know it, I just wanted to hear her say it.

‘Please don’t be like this Will’

‘What do you expect?’ I snarled.

‘For us to part as friends? Like we started?’ Even as she said it, I could tell she wasn’t convinced.

‘I don’t want to be your friend’ I said. ‘You’re…’

I couldn’t finish the sentence because I knew she already knew what I wanted to say. Soul mate. I had called her it once and she’d laughed asking if it usually takes that long for soul mates to get together.

Instead, I took a step towards her and kissed her hard on the mouth. She released a small sob but carried on kissing me anyway.

Neither of us spoke as we unbuttoned, unzipped and peeled away our clothing, clawing and grabbing at each other until the sun came up.

In the morning, she was already dressing when I woke up.

‘Why did you let this happen?’ was the first thing I said to her.

‘What?’ she said, her back turned to me.

‘Why did you spend three years with me if you knew you didn’t want my baggage?’

‘I wanted you’

‘So you just let me believe that we’d stay together?’

‘I thought we’d stay together. I didn’t start thinking about what would happen after until a few months ago’. Her voice was tired.

‘You’ve known for a few months and let it carry on then’

‘Stop it William. Please don’t make it harder to say goodbye’. I could tell she was crying even with her back turned.

I sat up and glared at the ground. ‘Fine. Goodbye Kate.’

I refused to look at her, but I knew she was facing me now. I could tell just by listening to the shallow sounds of her breathing. I don’t know how long she waited there for me to give her something more, but eventually her weight lifted gently off the bed. The sounds of her breathing, that I’d become so used to having beside me, and expected to have beside me for the rest of my life, were replaced by a soft click of the door.

*

The crowds had lined the streets on Graduation Day, just as we’d expected. I waved at them, and they happily waved back. But to me, their faces were just a blur. There was only one person I wanted to see.

She stepped onto the lawn; scroll in hand, her robes flowing behind her. Her skin was tinted and glowing and a beam spread across her face as her family came to congratulate her. If she knew I was looking in her direction she didn’t show it as she chatted and laughed, her dimples dipping into her face.

It was the last time I ever saw her.

 “I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you.” ― Jonathan Safran Foer

Balmoral

I open my eyes to find George and Emma gaping at me. It takes a moment for one of them to speak.

‘What happened?’ Emma says, her voice coarse.

‘I’m sorry?’ I say, and take a sip of water.

‘What happened to her? To this Kate person’ she asks, mouth still agape.

‘Well’ I sigh, ‘I presume she went and did her traineeship, I didn’t have the heart to find out’.

‘What about mum?’ George interjects.

‘Kate was the reason I met your mother.’ I tread gently, knowing how hard this must be for them to hear. ‘A couple of years after university, Fergus organised a reunion of sorts. The thought of seeing Kate again made me want to run and hide, so I went and played at a charity polo match instead. That was where I met your mother, as you well know’.

‘I had no idea this person ever existed’ Emma says dumbfounded. ‘You’ve never mentioned her, not once, not even as a friend!’

I suddenly feel very tired. ‘Yes well, I’m not proud of how things happened.’

‘Did Mum know about her?’ Emma asks.

‘Yes, to an extent. She didn’t know exactly what Kate meant to me though’ I say.

‘Which was what exactly?’ George looks at me with a warning look in his eye. He was always fiercely protective of his mother.

I can’t bring myself to say the words so Emma does it for me.

‘She was the love of his life. Obviously.’ She says it so plainly and it surprises me.

‘I loved your mother very much’ I say, trying to reassure them both as if they are both still children.

It was true, I did love their mother. She had been a support to me for over fifty years and the day that she died five years ago was one of the hardest days of my life. As much as I loved her, I still never stopped thinking about Kate. About the way I felt like I was floating whenever I was near her.

‘Why did you feel the need to tell us all this?’ George says, still angry.

‘Because I’m about to die, I suppose. I wanted someone to know how special she was’

‘I’m sure her own family know that’, George snaps and stands up.

‘Look, son, when you get to my age you just want to talk about the past. To make amends. The way things ended with Kate has haunted me for my whole life’.

My hand starts to shake and Emma grabs it. My heart strains again and I rub my chest. It seems to get worse every time I think of her.

‘George please’, he is turned away from me but doesn’t turn around.

‘Oh for goodness sake’ Emma stands up and grabs George by the arm. ‘We all have our secrets, this is one of daddy’s. He dying, get over it’.

Emma always did have a wonderful way with words.

They sit with me for another hour, asking questions occasionally, but I am beginning to drift in and out of sleep. I hear them get up and leave, and then the mumbles of an argument in the corridor outside. I don’t know what they’re discussing, but I hear the familiar sound of George relenting to her before I sink into a deep sleep.

*

The following morning, I wake up wondering if yesterday’s events really happened, feeling a mixture of anxiety and relief.

My eyes creak open and I turn my head with an enormous effort. A pair of eyes are looking back at me.

Green eyes.

My heart jolts in a way that I didn’t know was possible anymore.

‘Hello’ she says.

I am transported back sixty years as her voice runs through me.

‘How did you?…what?’ is all I can say.

‘I got a phone call yesterday afternoon asking me to come up to Balmoral urgently’ she says quickly.

‘But how…’

‘Your daughter is quite resourceful apparently’ she laughs.

I laugh too despite my shock and notice her face for the first time. Her grey hair is tied up in a neat bun and wrinkles are set deeply in her face. But her eyes are still exactly the same.

‘You look beautiful’ I say.

‘Smooth as ever’ she says, rolling her eyes.

It’s as if nothing’s changed.

I am at a loss for words until she takes my hand knowingly.

‘Shall we go for a walk?’ I say. I don’t want her to see me like this, confined in this room.

I may be dying but my pride is very much still alive and kicking.

The nurses help me into my wheelchair and take me out to the grounds where Kate takes over, pushing me gently along the paths.

‘How have you been?’ I ask.

‘Good, and you?’

‘Well I’m dying, but other than that, life has served me well. What about you? I want to hear about your life.’

She tells me all about that past sixty years. How she did her traineeship and gained a job at the end of it. How she followed her dream and ended up curating all around Europe’s galleries. How she met her late husband at work and they had three children. Just like she always wanted.

‘How many grandchildren do you have?’ I ask.

‘Five’

‘Ha! I have six. Beat you’

She laughs, ‘it’s not a competition William’

‘Of course it is, it always is’.

She settles down on a bench and places my chair next to her.  ‘This is a lovely place’ she says.

‘I’m sick of it’ I say grumpily. ‘How about you take me out somewhere’.

‘St Andrews is only a couple of hours away’ she jokes.

I stare at her, ‘let’s go’.

‘William –‘

I take her hand in both of mine. ‘Please Kate, I’ve been stuck here for weeks. Let’s go back, I’ve been meaning to go for years but I always put it off’. The words come out in a jumble but she knows I mean them.

‘I don’t want a dead man in my car’ she says.

‘You drove here?!’

‘Yes’ she says looking affronted. ‘I’m old, not an invalid’.

I chuckle, ‘how about you take this invalid on a ride then?’

*

Kate leaves me outside and sneaks up to my room, collecting my medication and a few blankets.

‘I could go to prison for this’ she says when she returns, rolling me to the driveway at an alarmingly fast rate.

‘Emma and George didn’t see you did they?’

‘No’ she says breathlessly, packing her little red car.

Between the two of us, I am hauled into the passenger seat, brimming with excitement. I direct her to a side gate where I know there is only one guard standing.

I pop my head out of the window and say to him, ‘I’ll be back soon, they know all about it’.

The guard looks slightly startled, looking around for my security convoy, but before he can question it, Kate speeds away from the gates, the two of us laughing like naughty schoolchildren.

*

Two hours later, we arrive in St Andrews. We comment on all the things that have changed as we drive around – which is almost everything. The only thing that has stayed the same are the university buildings and we both descend into a respectful silence as we pass Sallies.

After much discussion, we decide on a remote area near to our old cottage. Kate pushes me up the small hills with some effort until we find a stone wall she can sit on.

On the way here, Kate stopped for snacks and she pulls out a packet of chocolate brownies from her bag and rips them open. We munch on them in silence.

‘My children are going to kill me’ I say.

She laughs. ‘Emma is lovely by the way, both of them are. You did well there’

I cough and she hands me a bottle of water. I take it but my hands are shaky and she holds it in place for me.

‘They are wonderful children’ I agree. ‘Did George give you a hard time?’

‘He was perfectly gracious’ she says. ‘Just like his father’.

I smile and she holds onto my hand.

‘Yes Emma is certainly more like her mother. Or her namesake’

She looks at me curiously.

‘Emma?’ I say, smirking. ‘You know the Jane Austen book?’

‘You named her after Emma Woodhouse?’, she says.

‘Well someone recommended the book to me a long time ago, so I read it’

She bows her head and squeezes my hand, tears springing to her eyes.

‘Kate.’

‘Don’t say it’ she pleads.

‘Say what?’

‘I don’t know, but it’s bound to make me cry’

‘I want to say sorry. The way we left things…the way I said goodbye to you –‘

‘It was my fault too’ she says. ‘I didn’t make it easy’.

‘You did what was right for you’. The wind is gathering and I wrap my coat around myself tighter.

‘I loved you’ she says, looking into the distance.

‘I’ve loved you for sixty years’.

‘Sometimes I think I missed my chance to be truly happy’, she brushes some crumbs off her lap.

‘You haven’t been happy?’

‘No, of course I’ve had a wonderful life, with a job and a husband and beautiful children, but something was always –‘

‘Missing’ I finish.

‘Yes’.

‘Yes.’

‘If I could do things again…’ she begins.

‘Hey, we don’t need to dwell on that. You’re here now’

‘I should’ve been there then’

My bones are achy and stiff but I lock her fingers with mine, ‘we’ve had happy lives. Maybe not the ones we expected back then, but we got through it’

‘I didn’t get over it though’

I look at her and her eyes are glistening.

‘Neither did I. Not fully. But I always wanted the chance to tell you I was sorry’

‘Well you’ve said it now’

‘Not just for being a complete idiot that day. But for not fighting for you. I should’ve tried harder’

‘I didn’t really give you a choice’. She leans against my shoulder and I place my chin on her head.

‘I just wanted you to be happy’

‘I have been. In my own way’, she says stifling a yawn.

I can’t suppress a laugh. ‘Does this remind you of anything?’

She closes her eyes and smiles, ‘we just need you to set fire to something now’.

*

Two bags of chips later and we head back home, ready for the torrent of anger from my children.

‘What you do think you were doing!!??’

‘Do you know how dangerous that was?’

‘We were worried sick!’

But I’m not listening. I can still feel the Fife wind on my face. Still taste the salty chips. And still feel her hand on mine.

I am tired but walking on air. I’m put back into bed and instruct my children that if they blame any of this on Kate I will cut their inheritance in half.

As the sun sets, Kate sits next to my bed. My heart is slowing again, but this time I don’t try to fight it.

‘I should probably leave you to rest’ she says.

When I look at her, she is the girl I fell in love with. Her hair tumbles around her shoulders in brown waves, her cheeks are pink and rosy and her eyes are glinting. I reach my hand out to touch her face, finding it smooth and soft as it always ways.

‘Stay’ I say.

She leans over and kisses me softly on the cheek. Butterflies explode inside me.

‘You should be with your family now’ she says gently, passing a wet drop from her eyelashes to my cheek.

‘Kate’

‘I know Will. I know. I’ll see you again, I promise’

She knows. At last, she knows.

I’m faintly aware of movement around me, more people enter the room and some leave. There is a constant sound off weeping somewhere.

Flashes of colour pass through my mind. My children clambering over me in the garden, and the smell of the grass. My wedding day; the taste of the smoke from the fireworks. The charred taste of slightly burnt spaghetti bolognaise.

I hear the slow thud of my heart over the voices around me, relaxing with every beat.

Until I can’t hear or see anything anymore.

And yet, my senses pick up one final thing.

Raspberries.

The End.