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takuyakistall · 3 years

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Don't get caught! | Riddle Rosehearts

Synopsis: While visiting Heartslabyul, you couldn't help but want to be a hedgehog after seeing the way Riddle is so fond of them and spoils them. But be careful for what you wish for! It might just come true.

Note: This was a request but the ask was too long so I just posted this on its own. I had fun writing this! It was a very cute idea and got carried away so this turned out longer than expected, I hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t sure if this was a good idea or not. You weren’t even sure if this plan would work but Trey and the other Heartslabyul first years insisted that it was going to work—or at least, they’ll try to make it a success. You had absentmindedly let out a random thought a few days about your hair, saying how curious you are about how you would look like in different hair colours and hairstyles. Trey’s unique magic immediately came into your mind, Doodle Suit, and you couldn’t help but comment on how convenient it would be if it could temporarily overwrite your appearance.

You felt bad for asking Trey a favour so suddenly but much to your surprise, he indulged you and said that it isn’t any problem. Of course, you knew nothing about the way his magic works and if it really isn’t a problem to him. Though you decided to trust his words and agreed to meet up with him in the Heartslabyul Dorm during the weekends. Grim, Ace and Deuce tagged along behind you as you entered the mirror to the dorm. Ace and Deuce wanted to be a little bit extra (or so you thought) and picked you up from your dorm.

The smell of freshly painted roses was in the air as your eyes adjusted to the sudden sunlight. You relished in the sight of the rose hedges lined up and the half-painted roses hanging from them, a few drops of red paint dripping to the green grass. The empty cans of red paint here and there as you walked through the stone path to the main building. You caught a few glimpses of a few students scrambling to their feet as they picked up a brush and started painting the roses.

Behind them, you could barely make out a familiar shade of red and a heart-shaped ahoge. You quickly turned to Ace, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Wait, where are we headed?” You asked them as Grim climbed up your shoulder.

“To the lounge, or Trey’s room. Whatever works.” Ace answered half-heartedly as he pushed the door open and scanned the room full of students for the green-haired vice dorm leader.

“Nevermind, we’re going to his room.”

Saying the hallways of Heartslabyul was confusing is a big understatement. The twists and turns of the halls more or less made you dizzy just from looking at it. The fact that you don’t know the actual way to Trey’s room made it harder for you to navigate where you were headed to. Deuce grabbed the hem of your sleeve when you were about to make a turn, whispering to you about how his room was still up ahead. Grim had long gotten off your shoulder once he realized that he might get lost with you.

“Good grief… I don’t even have any idea about what colour I should go with first.” You sighed as you spotted a window that gave you a view of the rose maze. The countless green hedges adorned with white roses. Have they not painted this part of the maze yet? You paid it little mind as your eyes wandered to the small cage placed outside and the tiny creatures inside.

Hedgehogs?

Green, pink, and blue ones were all scattered and rolling around in the cage. You couldn’t get a good view but it seemed like someone was giving them food right now. You stopped in your tracks when you realized it was none other than the dorm leader who was doing it. He dusted his hands and stared at the small blobs of colour inside the cage. You couldn’t see it clearly but you saw him open his mouth as a small smile appeared on his face. You found it a bit cute—cute how caring he seems to get when it comes to them.

It must be nice to be a spoiled hedgehog under Riddle’s care huh…

You shook your head, the tips of your ears growing hotter as you told yourself off about having such weird thoughts. Your head snapped back to where Ace and Deuce originally were but only to find them out of sight.

You felt panic rise in your throat as you looked left and right, your eyes searching for the familiar figures. You scolded yourself, regretting getting distracted by that redhead you seem to be so enchanted by. You wandered around the hallway, the knot in your throat growing tighter as you prayed that you won’t get lost.

“Geez! Just how big is this place?” You leaned against the window’s ledge as you let out a small pant. You’ve been walking around the dorm for what felt like hours now but you found yourself in the same place as before—by the window where you watched Riddle tend to the hedgehogs as you sighed.

“Um, excuse me…” The sudden voice behind your back made you jump in place a little. You quickly turned around and was met with a male student with brown hair. Your tense muscles visibly relaxed.

Finally! There was someone you could ask. You opened your mouth slightly to ask but before a single word could be formed—he asked you an unexpected question. He caught sight of the scene you were staring at before his involvement.

“Oh! Were you watching the Dorm Head?” Dense as a rock. The student didn’t think twice before asking this question, his eyes not registering the way your eyes widened slightly and your stance stiffened. You kept silent.

“Hehe, it seems like he’s taking care of the hedgehogs personally.” He mentioned, his voice laced with the faintest bit of admiration when he stared at the scene beside you. You tried to shrug it off but the curiosity inside you couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“...Is it anything special? Riddle taking care of them personally, I mean.”

“Eh? Well… no, not really. It’s just that he really likes them, so he tends to spoil them whenever he’s on duty.”

“Oh, is that so?” You tried looking the other way, trying to keep the nonchalant tone. But the moment you looked away—you could feel a small smile creeping up your face.

Cute.

You shook your head before you got carried away by any other thoughts and turned to the student. You need to do what you came here for!

“Oh, by the way, do you know how to get to Trey’s room?”

“Eh?”

“What the hell took you so long!?” Ace was the first one to greet you with his fist meeting your head without any warning. You winced a bit, clutching your head and fought back with your words.

“It was your fault for walking too fast!”

“Hah? Didn’t we warn you to keep close to us?”

“You said nothing about that!”

“Oh.” Ace fell silent. The corner of his lips suddenly curling up, as if a realization struck him.

“Haha! Don’t mind, everyone makes mistakes right?” There was nothing stronger than the feeling of wanting to slap the grin off his face right now. Had it not been for Deuce trying to keep the peace between you, you weren’t sure if you could've held yourself back.

“Moving on,” Deuce placed a hand over your shoulder. “Trey-senpai’s room is just up ahead. Don’t lose sight of us again, alright?”

It was hard to navigate yourself around the dorm. If there was one crucial thing they hadn’t told you about the dorm, it was the fact that if you weren’t a Heartslabyul student or school faculty, you were bound to get lost amidst the twists and turns. But in their defense, they didn’t expect you to get distracted so easily. You nodded as you followed behind the duo once again.

After a minute or two, you found yourself face-to-face with Trey in front of his dorm room. That’s when you realized you haven’t thought about what colour you’d like after getting lost but your thoughts were cut off when Trey suddenly spoke up.

“Oh, you guys are here. You were a bit late, did you run into some trouble?” He asked as he urged you three (four if you’re counting Grim) into his room.

“(Y/N) got lost~!” Ace chirped in a singsong voice as he threw his arms back behind his head.

“Eh, really? Be more careful next time, you’re lucky you were found quickly—otherwise, who knows how long you’d be stuck there.” The closed-eyed smile on his face made his terrifying words seem normal. You wondered if there were previous cases that went way worse than what you went through. You let out a relieved sigh inside your head, thanking the student that found you.

“Then, let’s make this quick.” Trey guided you to a chair, dragging you gently by the wrist and made you sit there as Ace, Deuce, and Grim stood beside you. Their growing curiosity couldn’t be masked.

His instructions were clear enough. He said that you should try to paint an image inside your head. Envision what you would like to look like while closing your eyes and then he’ll activate his unique magic. He also mentioned that it would only last 24 hours or shorter if interfered with stronger magic and that he can revert the spell after a certain period if time just in case you wanted to remove it quicker.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to paint an image of yourself you’d like to see.

“Ready? I’ll start now.”

You thought of your favourite colour, envisioning yourself with that certain hair colour. Wondering if Riddle would like it if he saw it. Oh, maybe if you were a (F/C) coloured hedgehog, he might find you cute!

“Doodle Suit!”

A small puff of smoke appeared just right after Trey finished his incantation. You felt a bit groggy and weird, was it supposed to feel like this? You opened your eyes, your vision adjusting to the sudden light until you realized the situation you were in. Everything seemed a hundred times bigger than they usually were and everyone inside the room seemed to have grown bigger. Everyone except you.

You felt so small.

“Eh!? Trey-senpai, where did they go?” The panic in Ace’s voice was unlike him. But Deuce was even more panicked than him, he thought that maybe they messed up and you disappeared for good. Grim was looking frantically everywhere.

You wanted to shout out. Tell them that you were still here but oddly enough, instead of a voice, a very weird sound came out of your mouth. The room froze when they heard it. Trey was the first one to spot you, a nervous chuckle slipping from his mouth as he held your small body up.

“It seems like your friend… turned into a hedgehog.”

Eh?

Eh!?

You messed up. Countless thoughts swirled rapidly at dangerous speeds as you thought about what could’ve gone wrong. You swore you did his instructions properly, you thought of what you wanted to look like and—

At the last minute, you thought about hedgehogs. That’s what went wrong. You wanted to bury your face into your hands but your new incredibly short four legs couldn’t even reach your face. This was a new level of embarrassment, you just wished that this was all a bad dream. You lied down flat on Trey’s palm, hiding your face from everyone as you heard Ace barely being able to contain his laughter.

“Pfft—” He clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to tell himself not to laugh but the situation made it hard for him to follow his instructions. Deuce, on the other hand, was crouching down while clutching his stomach—trying to keep his laughter as silent as possible. Grim had an indifferent expression before he approached you. He scaled your size compared to him and that’s when he lost it.

If you could speak, you would’ve told them to cut it out but much to your misfortune, you were left to make weird noises hedgehogs made. And if you were to make sounds like that, you were pretty much sure that they would laugh harder at you.

“Oh man, this is gold! I can’t believe you turned into a hedgehog.” Ace let out, that stupid grin on his face wider than ever.

“Though that does make me wonder how you managed to think about hedgehogs.” Deuce crossed his arms and pondered, finally calming down. Before he could dive deeper into his thoughts, Trey interjected.

“That isn’t important right now. We better think of what to do with your friend.”

“Trey-senpai, can’t you just overwrite it with your unique magic?” Deuce asked him.

“Unfortunately, it’s going to take a while before I can use my magic on them again. We need to put them somewhere safe for a while, can one of you keep them with you or do you know a place we can leave them?”

“Well, how about…”

“Hup! Off you go!” You hopped off Ace’s hand into the small cage he pushed you into. You felt yourself tense up when you were surrounded by your fellow small creatures, wondering if it was alright for you to sneak in like this. Ace assured Deuce that no one would notice an extra hedgehog inside the cage and decided that it was alright for you to stay there.

You had your doubts and troubles about this course of action but what can you do except comply? Your fate was temporarily in their hands—you were completely helpless. You just stayed behind as you watched Ace, Deuce, and Grim fade into the distance as they walked further and further away.

You looked around, trying to find something you can entertain yourself with but only to be met with immeasurable disappointment when you found out there was absolutely nothing you could do except eat, drink, or sleep. What’s worse is that you don’t know how long you were going to be here. You lied down on your stomach as you stared into space, a sudden wave of tiredness came over you as you felt your eyelids close.

Perhaps a short nap wouldn’t hurt.

You woke up to the heavy weight that rested over your body, you felt like you were being squeezed as a surge of panic took over you. You looked up to see that a green hedgehog was sleeping over you, it looked so comfortable that you felt bad for suddenly moving from your place. You couldn’t stay like this—you wanted to get out! You wished that Ace and Deuce just brought you with them even if it meant that they would probably get told off by Riddle for bringing out a hedgehog outside croquet matches.

“Hm? How strange… did I count correctly?” The sudden voice made you jump in your place, eyes darting everywhere to find out where it came from.

Wine red hair and slate grey eyes. There was no mistaking it—the voice belonged to none other than Riddle Rosehearts, the Dorm Leader of Heartslabyul. Confused, you wondered why he was still here. Didn’t his duty end a while ago? There was no reason for him to check up on the hedgehogs again!

“There’s an extra one?” His eyes shifted to you and you felt your blood run cold. How in the world did he know it was you out of everyone in the cage? You needed to think of something, quick. Who knows what he might do to you? Throw you out? Certainly, he wouldn’t do that… right?

“Don’t be scared. I won’t harm you, I promise.” Riddle’s gentle voice as he reassured you made you feel safe. You stared at his outstretched arm as a small smile appeared on his face and you couldn’t help but willingly hop into his palm. He brought you closer until you were on eye level with him. His grey eyes staring at you so intensely, you almost let out a squeak.

“Now then, we just have to find out who put you here.” He placed you on his shoulder and you felt the sudden panic sink in. You were in for a lot of trouble! You hadn’t expected Riddle to notice the extra hedgehog and you didn’t even expect him to come over in the first place. You cursed Ace and Deuce inside your head for leaving you there and expecting everything to sail smoothly.

If Riddle found out what happened, you were screwed. The best course of action you chose was to do your best to act like a normal hedgehog. That should be easy enough, right? Wrong! You didn’t know anything about how they acted and that fact alone made you declare this operation a failure.

Riddle walked away from the gardens and into the dorm building, your grip on his clothes tight because you were afraid of falling. Riddle felt the sudden shift on his shoulder and barely felt your claws ghosting over his clothes. He thought it was a bit strange, were you afraid of heights? But he paid it little to no mind as he continued walking and pushed open the door.

The students sitting in the common room suddenly stiffened up—they were first years and it was only natural that they were afraid of the strict Riddle Rosehearts. They stood up and greeted Riddle almost immediately, like soldiers.

"D-Dorm Leader!"

“Calm down, I’m not here to reprimand you or anything.” Riddle was irked at the way they visibly relaxed after saying that but he didn’t bother bringing it up. He scooted closer to them as he showed them the hedgehog on his shoulder.

“Do you know where this came from?”

Of course, the students could barely understand his question. They didn’t know the hedgehog was an extra head inside the cage and assumed that it was a normal hedgehog, so they answered:

“That’s a hedgehog, Riddle-senpai. It came from the cage they’re being kept in.”

“Of course I know that, I meant for this one specifically! It wasn’t here before.”

“M-Maybe it came from the forest and got lost?”

“It’s likely but how would it get inside the cage? That means a human probably put it in there.”

“Well… we don’t know.”

Riddle let out a sigh, trying to keep it together. It was going to be hard for him to find the culprit so he thought, just for a second, that maybe he should just let it stay inside the dorm. It wasn’t as if the world would end if he did, after all. But something deep inside his guts told him that he shouldn’t let go of this so easily. He dismissed the students and went to his room as he picked you up from his shoulder and into his palms.

“Where in the world did you come from…?” He brought you closer to his face and you felt like your heart was about to stop. His eyes widened as he made a sudden discovery. Magic? He felt the faintest bit of magic coming from you and that was enough to tell him that he should get to the bottom of this. But first—he needed an afternoon snack inside his room. After all, a queen should never make do without tea and snacks.

There was nothing more relaxing than having his favourite blend of tea in the afternoon accompanied by little snacks and biscuits that were served in little platters and teacups adorned with rose designs. It was to be expected as he was stuck in a dorm that was founded by the Queen of Hearts, it wasn't as if Riddle minded though—in fact, he grew fond of it. Daintily, he picked up his fork and took a small piece of his strawberry tart before putting it inside his mouth. Relishing in the burst of flavours that bloomed inside his mouth before turning his gaze to the small creature crawling on the table.

If you were already nervous back then, you didn't know how much more nervous you are now. You felt bad for feeling like you're deceiving him but at the same time, it wasn't as if you had a choice at all! Pushed into this seemingly hopeless situation, you wondered what would happen if somehow you transformed back into your original body right now. You shook your head and made yourself stray away from those thoughts—they never tend to end well once you think about them.

You tried distracting yourself by looking around the table and a certain snack caught your eye. You slowly made your way to it, your little feet pitter-pattering against the wooden material. Strawberry shortcake. Surely you were a tiny bit hungry after everything that occurred and not once did you get the chance to sit down and eat since you refused to eat the same food the other hedgehogs in the cage ate. You couldn’t help but look longingly at the small platter.

Riddle stopped halfway when he was about to take another bite out of his tart as he caught sight of you. Now, he wasn’t well-versed in the language of hedgehogs but it didn’t take an idiot to realize that you were hungry. He was a sucker for the rules of the Queen of Hearts but he wasn’t heartless. There was no harm in feeding you a little bit of that cake, right?

“Hm,” he contemplated for a split second, “just one small piece, okay?”

He took a small piece with his fork and nudged it towards you, expecting you to eat it. It took you a few seconds to understand what’s going on. Riddle, of all people, was feeding you. You didn’t know if you should be happy or not since you were in your hedgehog form but once you thought about it—didn’t you say earlier that it must be nice being a hedgehog spoiled by Riddle? Did the Great Seven up above hear you and decided to grant your wish?

Nonetheless, you took this as an opportunity. Who knows when you’ll get this close to Riddle ever again. You tasted the cake, eyes lighting up as you felt the sweetness of the frosting spread inside your mouth. You quickly took another bite until you finished everything with a content look. Riddle propped his elbow against the table and rested his chin on the center of his palm, looking at you with gentle eyes.

"...Somehow you remind me of a certain person." Riddle suddenly spoke up, his tone wary as he squinted at your figure. Your actions suddenly became more languid as you realized that perhaps the root of his suspicion was because of your erratic movements.

Surely he doesn't know it's me, right…!?

"(Y/N)," you froze up. "You remind me of them for some reason."

You went through the possible list of reasons how he came to that conclusion inside your head as you felt your heartbeat beat faster. For some reason, this whole scenario felt like it came straight out of a horror film. Out of all the names he could’ve said, he chose to say yours. The panic subsided as you suddenly grew curious about what exactly reminded him of you.

There was the slightest, smallest, unlikely chance that it was because he liked you but that was too far-fetched, right? Your imagination was going wild and unknowingly, you let out a small squeak. Riddle chuckled at the sudden sound, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile. He stopped to think for a moment, he was alone, right? There was no one else in the room but the hedgehog and him, right? He took a deep breath.

“Speaking of them, something has been on my mind right lately… and it’s bothering me to no end.” He started, a downcast expression was on his face and you couldn’t help but worry. Did you perhaps do something to upset him? The thought itself made you panic inside. You couldn’t help but scoot away from him a little.

“I think I like them.”

What.

WHAT!?

You wondered if turning into a hedgehog made your hearing worsen or Riddle just made a mistake. There was no way what you heard was right, right? But, even then, Riddle had a slightest tint of pink spreading on his face as he looked down in slight embarrassment. It was hard to believe that he didn’t mean it or that he made a mistake in what he said. You felt your heart explode at the sudden realization and discovery.

“But the problem is that I think they’re avoiding me. I’m a bit afraid that they don’t like me,” Riddle sighed, “not a lot of people like me after all.”

“That’s not true!” is what you wanted to say had it not been for the fact that you can’t. But as they always say—actions speak louder than words. You scooted closer to his hand on the table and placed one of your front paws over his hand, hoping that he would take it as a form of reassurance. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden gesture, surprised that maybe the hedgehog understood his feelings and tried comforting him.

“Eh, you’re full of surprises aren’t you? Did you actually understand what I said?”

Without thinking it through, you nodded.

“Ah-! You really do… that’s strange. But anyway, thank you for your reassurance. Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to confess b-but that’s not important right now, I need to find out where you came from.” Riddle urged you to go to the palm of his hand and you complied with no complaints. He lifted you until you were at eye-level with him.

“Let’s continue looking, shall we?” Before he let you go, he placed a kiss on your head as a sign of endearment. You swore you were about to let out another squeak until a cloud of smoke suddenly appeared from nowhere and you felt your body get bigger as you closed your eyes shut.

You wrapped your arms around Riddle’s neck so as not to fall and you felt his arms go under your shoulders and knees as he let out a surprised noise—realizing he was carrying you when the smoke thinned out. His eyes widened in surprise and his face was as red as his face when he looked at the person he was carrying. There was no way. No absolute way this was happening to him.

You stared at him nervously, face red as you violently wondered why the spell suddenly went undone. Trey never mentioned anything about a kiss being able to undo it so why…!? Countless questions took over your mind but there was only one thing you could focus on right now.

What do I do now?

“Ahaha… Hi Riddle…” Nervously, you started.

“Y-Y-You…”

“It’s me, (Y/N)...!” You had the feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

“M-My confession…”

“Oh yeah, about that I—”

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!”

Extra:

"E-Eh!? That came from Riddle-senpai's room right now. Do you think he's okay?" A random student asked the person beside them, crossing their arms as a pensive expression took over their face.

"Hmm, do you think we should check? Or tell Trey-senpai?" The other suggested. But as soon as Trey's name was uttered, he emerged from the hall with a satisfied grin on his face—as if he accomplished something great.

"Don't worry about Riddle, he's just having a little bit of fun with someone right now." He chuckled, not doing well to ease the students' worries.

"Trey-senpai...? Oh, he's gone. What do you think he meant by that?"

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst writing #fanfic #twisted wonderland x reader #your takoyaki has been served!#heartslabyul #twisted wonderland riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #trey was eavesdropping the whole time and decided to cause a little bit of trouble #why? 🥰 because he wants to give his dorm leader a little push !!!!#riddle was traumatized after that #he shoved u outside his room and he was this 🤏 close to tears

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statticscribbles · 4 years

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Keyed In

Summary: Sweet Pea/Reader Request: Soulmate AU! Whatever your soulmate draws/ writes on their skin ends up on yours, reader constantly forgetting things and being distracted; Sweet Pea being used to it and writing reminders for her on his hands etc. Extra fluff please

“What’s on your arm?” Veronica questions and you shrug. “Groceries.” She nods reading down the list; before she laughs. “Key’s in L pocket. What does that mean?” You blink pulling over your jacket. “Oh; it’s where I put my keys. He reminds me about it when I forget.” “Did your soulmate remind you where your keys are again?” Betty asks smiling as she sits down into the conversation. “Yeah, he does that sometimes; it’s nice knowing he’s looking out for me.” “You do realize that means he knows who you are! We have to find him!!” “Or her.” “No girl has handwriting that illegible.” “Don’t be mean to him! He’s my soulmate!”

“Who’s your soulmate?” Jughead asks as he sits down. “Well I don’t know; but he’s a sweetheart. He’s always writing down where I put stuff and making sure that I remember to finish homework for class; I swear he’s the reason I’m passing english, I’d never remember when the essays are due without him.” “You know that sounds kind of creepy right? Like your soulmate is watching you all the time.” Cheryl asks and you shake your head.

“He doesn’t just do that, he’ll write his own stuff down too! Besides what do you and your soulmate write then?” You laugh when Cheryl rolls up her sleeve revealing hearts and doodles of flowers. You roll up your other arm showing her something similar. “Left arm is notes and right arm is for fun.” “Okay that tops me by a mile.” Archie laughs strings of doodled jewel’s and random notes in flowing cursive. “Wow that’s some really-“ You watch Veronica pull out a marker scribbling something on her arm, Archie frowns watching a line of circles wrap around his wrist; an arrow forms point to his left and he turns as Veronica bumps her matching arm against his.

“Oh, holy shit.” “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out.” “I don’t pay attention when people draw on themselves! My dad said it was rude to stare!” Archie defends himself, Veronica scooting closer and linking there arms. “It’s okay Archie my parents taught me the same. It faded on his arm.” “Yeah it does that once you meet, if I draw something it’ll show up, but it wont be as vibrant, as noticeable because we’ve met, we’re not searching for each other anymore.” Cheryl and you nod at Veronica’s explanation. “Same happened for me and Betts.” “Does that mean were going on a soulmate hunt for you then?” You roll your eyes when Cheryl shakes you excitedly.

“We can look for yours while were at it!” You grin and Cheryl shakes her head. “No one soulmate at a time!.” “Fine. I guess I’m up first then.” “So all we do is keep an eye out for anyone with matching lists and reminders. Could you write something to him so we know what to look for.” Archie nods. “Uhh, okay; what do I write?” Everyone shrugs. “Just whatever you want.” You chew your lip, instead of writing you doddle a snake wrapping around your wrist. “Why a snake?” “I think he’s a Serpent, or at least in a gang he writes weird lists sometimes.” “Has he written one we can see?” “Not recently.” You shrug.

Cheryl is interviewing the Bulldogs and half of the student body grabbing at there wrists while Betty and veronica apologetically explain what she’s doing. Jughead’s on Serpent duty, asking about anyone who has a snake on them goes about as well as he expected. “Not your tattoo you idiots!” He groans as everyone laughs. “You gotta be specific Jones!” “I was; I asked if any of you had a drawn on snake!” “The fuck you think a tattoo is?” You laugh in the background sitting next to Toni. “Sorry about dragging you all to Pop’s like this.” She shrugs doodling a daisy chain on her wrist, you can’t help but stare up her arm, doodles of flowers looping up them.

“Oh; your soulmate likes flowers then?” Toni laughs. “She likes pretty things.” You nudge her arm slightly. Narrowing your eyes at the cherry that’s been drawn in the crook of her elbow. “Hidden message; sort of a way for us to recognise each other if we ever meet.” “Not exactly hidden is it.” You laugh and Toni rolls her eyes. “It is if you don’t go snooping on my arm Y/N.” You shake your head. “I didn’t mean you.” You nod gesturing to where Cheryl and Veronica have entered, Cheryl wearing her cherry print cardigan. “See?” You wave her over and she beams. “Holy fuck.” Toni mumbles. You laugh and Cheryl arches an eyebrow at you. ‘What?” “Nothing, just still trying to find my soulmate, Ronnie, can we talk to Jughead. Enjoy.” You wave slightly and leave Cheryl and Toni to talk.

“What’s wrong now Y/N?” “I’m really happy for Ronnie and Cheryl but like I was supposed to find my soulmate; I don’t want to say anything cause I feel like I’ll be whining.” You slump in your seat Kevin patting your back. “Fangs’ add another shake, vanilla right?” You nod pressing your forehead into the table. “Come on Y/N its okay to be bothered by not getting what you expect.” “I know but I feel like I’m being bitter.”

“And what if you are? Be a bitter bitch then.” You turn when Fangs slides next to Kevin and another Serpent nods to the spot next to you. “Sweet Pea, pleasure.” He smiles and you nod. ‘Y/N.” “Hey you have a snake on your wrist, did you guys tell Jones this is whoever’s soulmate he’s looking for?” “No they’re looking for me; I’m trying to find my soulmate.” Sweet Pea nods in understanding. “So what’s the sudden rush to find him?” “I just; he’s helped me through so much I just want to be able to meet him and thank him; at the least.”

“I’m sure you’ve helped him just as much.” You laugh shaking your head as you pull the shake they got you over. “I doubt it; he’s reminded me where to find my keys at least fifty times; helped me pass english by helping me study; and; just, he’s been there for me so much, even though I‘ve never met him.” “Well yeah that’s why he’s your soulmate right?” Fangs nods and you frown. “I know like everyone says that but just; ugh you remember what I was like before you met Fangs right?”’ Kevin’s nods and you finish your shake. “I should get home; call today a wrap.” “Y/N We were thinking about at the game; we could do like a cheer or something so- Oh are you going home?” You nod, yawning. “Yeah; just a little bummed over everything that, dammit.” “Whats wrong now scatter brain? You forget your wallet? You gonna dine and dash Kevin?” You shake your head chewing your lip. “I can’t find my keys; I swear i-“ “Left pocket.” Everyone turns to stare at Sweet Pea.

“You were just going to let her leave!!?” You cringe back as Cheryl shouts at him. Toni looks shocked but you can see the smile under her surprise. “Cheryl it’s fine; I get him not wanting to-“ You’re jerked back Sweet Pea pulling you back into your seat in the booth. “If you think for one second it’s cause I don’t want you; I’ll fight you in the parking lot.” “Sweet’s I don’t even remember where I put my keys; you have to write it down for me; do you really think I could take you in a fight?” “Okay bad choice but just; don’t think that okay?” You shrug. “Why wouldn’t I I mean-.”

“Hold on.” Sweet Pea pauses your pity party turning and glaring at everyone else who’ve excitedly gathered round. ‘Will you all fuck off please. I’m sure you’ll be able to pull ever detail out of us tomorrow okay. Can we have an alone moment.” Cheryl smirks arm looping wth Toni’s and dragging her, Fangs and Kevin off. Jughead nods to Sweet Pea before he, Betty, Veronica and Archie leave as well. “I would ask for you to continue but I don’t care about whatever reasons you have for thinking you’re not worth it to me. My opinion of you is not for you to decide.” He smiles warmly and you sigh. “I’m pretty useless on my own; I don’t have any good skills like you; I’m not in a gang, I can barely remember to get to school on time let alone-“ “Good thing you’re not alone then; you have me.” “But-“ He nudges your chin up as he leans over kissing your cheek.

“Isn’t it a little better in person at least.” You swallow nodding. “Much better in person.” You add in smiling up at him. “Since we’re soulmate’s I should get to know more about you right?” “Of course; I think it only makes sense since you’ve helped me with my keys so many times you learn where I live.” You watch Sweet Pea jerk surprised. “Besides it’ll give them something to talk about.” You wink flickering your eyes to the side where Sweet Pea tracks them to see everyone piled in Cheryl’s car watching.

“How do you feel about motorcycles?” You grin as he offers you a helmet and you swing your leg over winking at the car as they all quickly look away. “So what lie are we going with? We made out for hours? We’re running away to get married? We’ve decided to start a band?” “Well one of those wont be lying.” “Which one?” You grin at him leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. “Guess.”

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#sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea reader insert #sweet pea x you #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x y/n #jordan connor #jordan connor imagine #jordan connor x you #jordan connor reader insert #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale reader insert #stattic

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH.6

You wake up sometime around one. Not too late in the day given your morning. With a decent amount of sleep under your belt you roll over and start striping your bed of its sheets. Then you make your way across your room, picking up stray clothes as you go to your hamper and dump your collection of dirty linens and clothes into it. You carry the hamper to the bathroom where you load half into the washer. There's no real point in separating the clothes from colored items and pastels or whites. You're only twenty-four and don't have your life totally figured out yet. You can be a little lazy with laundry.

Once your first load of laundry is being washed you go to do your weekly tidy of your home. The one good thing that came from the paranoia of your car's break in was you rearranged all the furniture of the home, thus cleaning as you went. So that means it's more of a quick wipe down of counters and sweeping today. Maybe you'd organize your art supplies while doing your laundry. It's an activity that wouldn't distract you too much and make you forget you had laundry in the wash.

You finish washing the dishes from this morning you begin wiping the counters and tabletop when you notice your fidget cube is still on the table where Toby left it earlier.

'Don't want to lose this. Back to the bookshelf where you belong.' When you get to the living room's bookshelf you notice one of your book's is missing. Ironically it's The Book Thief.

'Tobias probably picked it up and put it down somewhere.' you'd keep your eyes peeled for the book while you cleaned.

After wiping down bookshelves, tables, counters, even the mantel over the fire place you still hadn't found your missing book. You probably picked it right up and placed it right back down without even realizing. You'll just keep an eye out until you find it. You don't even reread books, you really just kept a copy to lend out to people when they ask what your favorite books are. It isn't a real big deal if you can't find it, plus there's bound to be a copy floating somewhere in a thrift shop or yard sale.

The washer chimes right as you grab the broom to sweep. Pausing this task to go retrieve your laundry and do the rest. You empty the dirty clothes left in the basket onto the floor and place the clean wet ones inside the basket. After starting the final load you carry the basket out back. As nice as this home is its still small and doesn't have a dryer, which early summer is fine but come fall and winter might be more cumbersome. Seeing as you have to hang the laundry out to dry outside. Maybe when it gets cold you'll just do smaller loads and hang them up in the bathroom or over the fire place. But that's a thought for future you. Right now current you is struggling yet again to get a fitted sheet to sit on the line. Fitted sheets are probably Satan himself in disguise.

When you finish stringing all the laundry up you take a moment to just enjoy the quiet and the peace that comes with the outside. It's nice out here, maybe after you finish the last few chores today you can come out and just draw, it'd be a good way to also keep an eye on this weather in case it turns. While it hasn't happened yet you're very aware of the risks you take by ignoring the existence of meteorologists. And by that you mean just not bothering to look up the weather for the day.

Heading back inside you restart your task of sweeping. Like you thought you've finished before the washer has even completed it's first cycle. The house isn't too big so it's easy to clean it from top to bottom within a day normally, but today you had even less to do thanks to this week's rearranging. So you move on to organizing your art supplies and separating all materials by medium.

Of course arranging materials is never easy, after all you end up staring at all your horded empty sketch books and note how your thumbnail notebooks are just covered in doodles and random scribbles but no real art or ideas. Maybe it's time to start kicking yourself into gear. You ran into a major period of burnout before moving and now with this fresh start you might be able to focus on progressing with art, even if you don't pursue it as a career. You've always loved the ability to draw and create images that make others happy. But right in this moment you just want to make yourself happy. Maybe you could start small just a few still lifes and see how you feel after that.

Hearing the chime of the washer you hurry to finish putting away the supplies in their newly assigned places. Just as before you transfer the wet and clean clothes into the awaiting basket and take them out to be hung to dry. You don't have another fitted sheet this go round so it goes by much faster than it previously had. Now with all of your washing for today hung you head back inside to grab a fresh sketchbook.

Having never been one for scenery, more of a portrait artist, you start off with small things. A few stills of a flower under the window, the old tire swing on the tree, and even the blue jay that dove for dinner right in front of you. Of course all of these were warm ups done in a few minutes, though you really wish you had more time on the blue jay one. You really need practice with things that aren't people.

The warm ups of course don't look very good, but you can still see what you'd been going for. The hatching and smudging you'd done, to increase depth and give the quick drawing more life, did help a little but it was clear this was an area where you weren't skilled. But that didn't deter you, after all you needed more practice and wouldn't be getting better without it.

Deciding to draw the scene before you, a small open meadow surrounded by trees, in other words your backyard with your drying laundry. You start off slow and make sure to actually look and take in the yard in front of you, doing your best to not just make up the trees and their shapes as you go. Soon you are lost in the meditative muscle memory of drawing. The scratching of pencil scrapping across paper further lulling you into a trance like state as you etch out the scenery.

A harsh breeze blows through and the loud flapping of sheet hitting sheet knocks you loose from your trance. Checking to make sure none of your laundry was flying off, it hadn't the laundry was still secured to the line. Smiling you glance down to actually see what you've sketched out so far. It isn't too bad, though you aren't sure how long you've been working on it, the trees all have a distinct shape rather than your typical cartoon one size fits all attempts. Scanning the page your eyes catch onto something off, out in the tree line it looks like you'd drawn a figure hiding behind a tree.

Hearing the beating of your heart that's currently hammering against your chest you look around. Did your mind do that as a joke or had someone genuinely been watching you draw? Your mouth is dry as your eyes scan the tree line for any sign of what could've been mistaken for a person, but you saw nothing. No one was there. Had anyone ever really been there? Why would you draw that? Why wouldn't you remember doing it? You don't feel safe out here anymore. There are eyes watching you you can feel it. They may not physically be there but the phantom eyes that surround you and cause your skin to crawl make sure you know of their presence. You take that as a sign to head inside for the evening, one that doesn't need to be repeated.

You lock the door immediately behind you and check your phone. It's seven, and you have an email notification. Thanking whatever power for the distraction you slide down your back door and open the notification. It's from Hollis!

YN r u coming to SND? It's that teen beach zombie movie u love. Y;know the awful D list one Blk and wht with the 50yos playing teenagers

Lemme know I'll save your seat.

Sent 6:47 P.M.

They're so sweet to remember you loved this awful D list zombie movie. Horrible subplots and main plot and all. But you're a little spooked right now and watching even that joke of a horror movie is probably too much for you. You doubt you'd feel better by the time ten rolls around to watch it. Not to mention your battery's still drained from Toby this morning. And knowing for a fact you'd probably stay late to talk till morning with Hollis, Jake, and Kirby you decide it's best to skip this week. Just not having the energy to handle Saturday Night Dead.

Nah, sorry man. Battery's dead from being social earlier. Thanks tho, I do appreciate you! ….....,.... lemme know what next week's movie is!

Sent 7:10 P.M.

It'd probably be a good time to make something for dinner, there's a box of mac n cheese in the pantry. Simple but always beloved. As you wait for Hollis to respond you start on boiling water. But you didn't have to wait too long since they'd answered near instantly.

Chill, don worry we'll catch ya next week

…..oooop

ot not...Kirb's said it's the start of watching the entire warren file collection

starting from the beginning

...well the first movie released, Insidious. LOL we probs won't ever see you again.

Sent 7:12 P.M.

How dare Kirby betray you like this. First off those movies are awful, and like not cheesy awful just awful awful. Not to mention he knows how you feel about the Warrens and their cases. You have a power point presentation ready for that dick the next time you see him. ...well not literally but you'd make one to prove a point!

Where's Kirby now? I just wanna talk, I just wanna talk is all.

Sent 7:18 P.M.

Already ran off toy vermont probably

will we get blessed with a ted talk nxt week?

Sent 7:20 P.M.

I can't tell if you're joking or not. If you aren't then yea I can make a power point and we'll play that instead of the movies. Every week until this town understands the severity of this.

Sent 7:21 P.M.

Ya just jkin.

Your passionate hate is funny tho, so could be good to do something mid warren marathon.

Sent 7:23 P.M.

Guess the dissertation on how horrendous the “exorcisms” were will have to wait. They'd just been joking. This is probably a good ending of the conversation anyway, it's hard to tell sometimes but you feel you'll just run in circles with the current topic or worse fall into a rant that they won't read all the way through because they'll have left with the rest of the stunt gang to get dinner before heading over to the Cryptonomica for Saturday Night Dead. Hollis is typically a real good sport about this kinda thing but you'd rather not bog down their night with your hate boner for the Warrens.

'I'll let them know later that I'll still come to Saturday Night Dead next week.' you think as you dump the pasta into the water that finally came to a boil. It's quiet as you cook your macaroni dinner. You'd normally not notice the lack of sound or life in your home before, but maybe having Connor and Toby over put things into perspective. Guests aren't really a thing you've ever had, you always feel rude if your social battery runs out before someone's stay is over. But maybe you're lonely, and it's put you on edge.

Though this week would've put anyone on edge, you have still been alone in this house for two months. That can't be healthy for your mental well being, humans are social creatures by nature after all. Maybe you could get a pet, something that'd make it's fair share of noise and give the home a bit more life than your normally hollow shell wondering the halls. Are you even sure you want a pet? Do you have time for one? You have the standard nine to five, but what about when you're off on a nightly trip because of your sleeplessness? What if you forgot about them? Hell your brain's been so foggy these last few months, it wouldn't be surprising.

Like a sign from the divine themselves, the pot of water boils over. Steam is rising as the sizzling is heard. Your head snaps twice to the right as you scramble to lower the heat and raise the pot off the eye. Putting it down on an unused eye you give it a quick stir and thankfully no pasta got burned to the bottom of the pan....this time. The pasta seems a little crunchy but a texture you'll eat so you kill the hot eye and start on the cheese portion of your mac n cheese.

As you eat you continue your original debate about getting a pet. Ultimately deciding that you just aren't ready for that kind of responsibility right now. Sure you'd had tons of pets in your parents' home but that was with a financial safety net and back when your mental health wasn't all over the place. Not to mention the pets were family pets and responsibility was split three ways.

There isn't much room in your home for you to have a roommate, and that presents a whole nother set of challenges. You could try to make friends through online forums again! It's hard to talk to people in general but you always get scared off before replying to a comment or post. Or overshare to the point people infantize you. Even better trying therapy out could help with your loneliness. Hah ok good one, even if you had money for it consistently you don't think you could trust someone knowing all your secrets but not knowing any of theirs. And while that in and of it self is an example of why you need it, you're rational enough to realize you aren't ready for that either.

After finishing your meal you put away the left overs and clean the dishes. You'll be happier tomorrow knowing they aren't your problem to deal with. You start to make your way to your bedroom but freeze just before the hall.

'You shouldn't stay here...you need to leave.'

A glance at the time tells you it's eight thirty-nine, if you left right now you could make it to Saturday Night Dead with time to spare. You don't need to fill the loneliness with new friends, just spend time with the ones you already have. Duh. Turning you grab your keys off the bookshelf and take one of the masks hanging from a hook by the door.

Checking your door was locked and locking your car once you were in, you're ready to drive. Knowing you're still overstimulated you forgo the music on this drive, hoping it will calm you down enough to enjoy the movie and some down time with friends. And that would help put a pin in your self isolating habits. It'd really be nice if you brought movie snacks over to surprise the gang. You're pretty sure the mini mart carries everything you need. Jake likes swedish fish, Hollis is addicted to those extreme sour airhead ropes, and Kirby's a weirdo with his love of red vines and surge. Hahaha that man will die before he's thirty-eight.

Still having the extra time you deiced to stop by the mini mart and grab the candy. What's the worse that can happen you have another panic attack in front of strangers. Plus you hadn't seen Magnolia the last few times and you'd hate for her to think you'd been ignoring her. Pulling into the empty mini mart parking lot you take a breath to steel your resolve before leaving your car.

Tim looks at the door when he hears the chime and stiffens when he sees you. Fuck you did have a panic attack in front of this guy last night, plus you really haven't formally met. But didn't Toby say his roommate was named Tim? And he and Brian were both here talking with Tim last night before you came in. That can't be coincidence.

“uh...hi?” you say awkwardly standing in the doorway, door closed behind you.

“um, hi?” perfect he's just as awkward in this situation as you are. You can work with this.

Moving through the first two isles you keep your eyes peeled for Magnolia, even though you can make this an in and out trip for candy, you do miss the little bodega cat.

“Wh- hey are you, are you even ok to be here?” Tim calls as he rounds the counter and makes his way to you.

“Huh? Oh...oh yea. I'm chill now.” you hear the bell before you see her. The little ting tin ting of her bell that comes with the grace only fluffy cats have.

“You literally collapsed on the floor last night after blacking out while driving.” his tone is very stern. He and Nate would probably get on like a house on fire. The grumpy old men who secretly care a lot duo.

“I don't remember collapsing...but I know I didn't drive.” well you don't know that but you do firmly believe that.

The man is just turning into the isle when you spot the floof sauntering just behind him. Magnolia didn't spare either of you a glance as she made her way to the counter. Probably going to her bed, an old shipping box for apples, you'd just meet her over there then. With no warning to the man you squeeze past him and and follow the cat. Agitated footsteps following after you in your quest to pet the cat.

Magnolia perks up upon seeing you, the flicking of her tail letting you know she's anticipating her pets. The huffing Tim hovering behind you isn't as pleased with your actions as the cat is. The man is radiating negativity, annoyance maybe or is it concern that breeds frustrated anger? The second he starts to clear his throat, as if to remind you of his hovering, you roll your eyes.

Looking back at him over your shoulder you see him in all his grumpy man glory. His brow was furrowed so hard his thick eyebrows nearly covered his eyes. But with the way his lips emoted the man before you looked more like a pouting muppet. It would be funny if it weren't for the foreboding feeling of the moments before being reprimanded by a teacher.

When you straighten up you take note that your eyes meet perfectly. He's the same height as you that's surprising, you thought he'd be taller than 5'7. His eyes widen slightly at seeing your full height, it must've thrown him off since the first time he saw you, you'd actively been trying, and had succeeded at looking smaller.

“What are you doing here?” well he doesn't get thrown off for long.

Running a hand through Magnolia's fur a few more times as you respond, “Petting Magnolia.” you really are a little shit sometimes.

“No...no, why are you out? Toby had to take you home last night, you shouldn't just be waltzing around town after that.” maybe it was frustrated concern.

“Oh I'm fine now.”

Magnolia at this point has jumped up on the counter and is headbutting you for more attention. Chuckling you turn your attention back to her. Meanwhile Tim behind you is at a loss for words.

“Fine?? You don't just...bounce back from a panic attack.”there's personal experience behind those words.

“I just rationalize things fast.” Hearing the trill of the clock on the wall reminds you that you need to grab those snacks and head over to the Cryptonomica for movie night.

Going to the candy isle you grab one of each of the gang's favorites, you snag a bag of white cheddar popcorn on the way to the counter and place your items there. Tim doesn't get a word out before you rush off to the cooler near the back that is in all honesty pretty sketch. Like who even makes Fruitopia anymore? That stuff got discontinued in the early 2000s. The cooler even has Hi-C Ecto Coolers...you might actually check if they're in date and grab a few.

Rummaging around the cooler you finally spot the weird tech green and black splattered can proudly stating SURGE. It has no date...questionable at best. But hey it's only Kirby drinking it, and it's been well established that man will die well before middle age. Grabbing a can to check the Ecto Coolers, luck is on your side! These cans are from the re-release that happened as a promotion for the Ghostbusters revival a few years back, they'll be good for another two years! For now you'll just take one so you won't have to worry about lugging cans around for the movie.

Once your new items are placed on the counter the expression on Tim's face cannot even be described. The questions of the surge are probably the ones easiest to read...or they're just the most predictable.

“Kirby likes red vines and surge, sickening right?” Maybe a little joke will break the ice.

“...Like that little round pink...thing?” What?

The laughter is coming out before you can stop it, the image of said pink Kirby consuming red vines and surge only to accessorize as your friend comes to mind. It's adorable and cursed at the same time. Adorably cursed. You'll have to draw that and print a few copies to hang around the Cryptonomica.

“No,” you're choking on giggles at this point, “Kirby, the owner of the Cryptonomica.” catching your breath and regaining your composure, “It's that tourist trap just across from the RV park.”

“Oh.” normally such a short cold reply would make you shut down the conversation. But This is Toby's roommate, and if you want to be friends with Toby, you'll probably run into him a lot more. Plus if he's a new night shift cashier it wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with him for when you're out on adventures.

“Yea, hey Toby mentioned you three just came to town, so you might not have known but the Cryptonomica does a weekly movie night on Saturdays. Saturday Night Dead. Normally it's awful old horror movies but next week they're starting a Warren Case files “arch”.” Tim doesn't take the conversation bait at the pause.

“It's a great way to meet other locals, you guys should check it out if you get the chance. It starts at ten and runs till one or so on most weeks.” Olive branch has been extended.

Tim relaxes for the first time since you got here tonight. The sheepish look on his face and twitchy pupils give the impression he's thinking it over. He sighs and nods before saying, “Yea, that sounds...nice.”

Olive branch skeptically taken! You'll count this one as a win in your book. With the mood lightened Tim breaks the ice a bit further.

“Surge and red vines can not be good for you.”

“Right! If living off mountain dew and pizza rolls doesn't kill him, this for sure will.” you both have a small laugh at that. It's nice to finally have cleared up the mix up from the beginning of the week. Which reminds you.

“Oh...um...I'm YN by the way. It's nice to meet you...sorry for the two,” your neck tics to the side, “previous nights.” you finish.

“Tim...and it,uh happens sometimes...'s fine.” Score awkward acknowledgment of previous meetings and you can now erase those from your nightly anxieties.

Tim finishes ringing and bagging your items and you pay. Giving another pet to the curled up kitty on the counter you nod farewell to Tim.

A trill rings out from the clock on the wall. It's ten.

Two heads snap to look at the wall. You take a second glance at your phone while Tim checks his watch. Both say the clock on the wall is correct. But it just turned nine not even ten minutes ago. Right? You can brush off yourself loosing track of time but when you involve another person that just doesn't make sense. Tim looks just as concerned as you. Only Magnolia lays unaffected by the lost fifty minutes.

“I should go.” Tim nods numbly to you as you exit the store.

You won't be able to make it to the movie, well you could but you'd disturb someone if you walked in mid movie. Choosing to go home instead you drive, once again without music. Entering your home you hang your mask back on the hook. Putting away the drinks and snacks for next weekend, you make your way to your bedroom. Once again freezing just before the hallway. Turning to your living room you can see a book in the middle of your coffee table. You definitely don't remember the book being there, and doubt you'd miss it out in the open. But as you got closer you could confirm, even in the dark, that it was The Book Thief.

#ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #reader insert #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright #timothy wright x brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #creepypasta fanfic #A cure for insomnia

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the-shadow-of-atlantis · 3 years

Text

Mystery Solved?

Scott gets curious about Andromeda

Tagging: @melyaliz @lizartgurl @dilpickledd @speedypan @coffee-randomness

Read Earlier Parts Here

A/N Mentions of child neglect

Scott had to admit maybe he had taken things a little too far. But then again it had been a bit of an accident. He knew something was up with Andromeda however what he had discovered was not what he expected.

He knew her stories didn’t always line up like she was hiding something but he wasn't sure what. With his training he had thought the worse, she was somehow a spy sent to gather intel on them. Hey if he could be trained to be an X-men what would be the odds of her being a spy. Especially since she was so reluctant to talk about her parents, till he found out the truth.

The first hint of truth came when he accidentally spotted her at the mall during winter break. Jean had gone to visit her family but Scott still wanted to get her a present for when she was to return. It took him a while to realize who she was when she passed by him. She looked so… normal. Andromeda's face was free of makeup, her coat was simple yet it seemed old but her pants were loose instead of tight. He didn’t like it, it somehow just didn’t seem like her.

He didn’t mean to follow them that day but he couldn’t help but be a bit intrigued. Usually when he spotted her outside of school she was still in her usual style. Those dramatic lace shirts, the makeup that was always perfectly done, the ripped jeans or shorts. So he didn’t understand the sudden change. Then he noticed the other things, how she seemed to trail behind her family, how she kept her head down as if trying to hide herself. Then he noticed her parents how they seemed to ignore her yet would constantly put her little brother in their line of sight. Scott frowned as he saw them leave and something seemed off.

When they came back to school Scott noticed she was in a bit of a mood. Her usual teasing playful self was gone.

“Hey, how was your break?” Scott asked as he sat down next to her.

“Good.” She muttered as she doodled on her paper a little too aggressively.

“What did you do?” He asked.

“Nothing really.”

“Did you-“

“Class is starting.” She snapped, opening her book.

“Right.” He mumbled, glancing at her worriedly.

It took awhile for her to warm up to him again, for a second he feared she realized he was spying on them that day. Instead she blamed her mood on the weather claiming it always made her feel down when it was cold. He could tell she was telling the truth but he couldn’t help but feel like maybe there was something more to it.

The second hint came when they had to work on a project together. Scott couldn't help but notice how she frowned when the teacher gave the announcement. The project was going to be a big portion of their grade.

"We could work on it at your place." Scott said as they started discussing what to do.

"Could we maybe meet up at the library instead?" She asked, biting her lip nervously.

“Yeah sure.” Scott nodded. “Just let me know what time.”

When she finally got back to him on a time to meet up he was shocked to see she also had a small list on how to look.

“Just um just look presentable, not that you don't already, it's just…” She trailed off and sighed. “I’ll see you tonight.”

So he waited for her in front of the library just like she asked, smoothing down his favorite red polo making sure his clothes didn't have any wrinkles. He looked up and slowly realized that Andromeda was walking up to him with what he assumed was her mother and her little brother. She looked what would be deemed as normal, a simple soft blue shirt and loose jeans.

“Scott?” The woman said.

“Hello.” Scott said holding his hand out, she stared at him suspiciously.

“You are Andromeda's lab partner.”

“Yes.”

“And you are going to be working on a project together.”

“Yeah that’s the plan. The project is due at the end of the week and we want to get it done as soon as possible.” Scott said, smiling politely.

Her mother simply nodded and turned to the siblings. “One hour.”

Andromeda nodded and walked up to Scott, her brother staying close to her side. Once inside Andromeda seemed to relax.

"So you're Scott." Her little brother said.

"Yup, and I'm guessing your Adonis." Scott replied.

"I am." Adonis nodded and stared at him curiously. "What's with the shades?"

"Donnie." Andromeda scolded.

"No it's okay." Scott smiled. "I just have a really sensitive eye condition. I need the shades to help me see."

"Huh alright." Adonis said.

It wasn't till then that Scott realized Andromeda was the only person who never questioned him about his shades. Same like how he never really commented on the tattoo she had on her back. Like there was somehow a strange understanding about them.

"What's your favorite sport?" Adonis asked, breaking Scott's train of thought.

Scott didn't mind answering the random questions Adonis kept asking. He couldn't help but be reminded of his own little brother, wondering if he was still around would he have become friends with Adonis. Andromeda had settled on making their poster board trying to make it look as presentable as possible. Occasionally she would chime into the conversation adding her own questions when she would find something about him intriguing.

"Wait hold up, you live at that huge mansion that's by the woods?" Adonis asked.

"Yeah that's the one." Scott said.

"Huh I always wondered what that place was." Adonis wondered out loud.

“Maybe one day you two can come over.” Scott said.

"Yeah maybe." Adonis mumbled, Scott couldn't help but notice he shared the same look Andromeda would give him whenever he mentioned anything about meeting after school.

"How's it looking?" Andromeda asked, distracting him with the drawing she was working on for the poster board.

All the clues finally got into place the day they went on a field trip for their chemistry class.

When the teacher announced the upcoming trip Andromeda frowned just how she did the day the project had been announced. She was the only one who seemed to be interested and constantly held her hand up to ask questions though her questions were mainly about the time frame of the trip.

Still she was there a little out of breath but she had managed to catch the bus before it left. They hardly spoke as she fixed herself up, Scott noticing little things about how hastily her outfit seemed to have been thrown on. During the tour of the Science Museum they were visiting Andromeda took her notes but he couldn’t help but notice how she would check her watch every so often.

“Looking for your name?” Scott asked, they were currently taking a break in the small gift shop.

Andromeda smiled and let out a small scoff as she browsed through the beaker shaped keychains that had names etched into them.

“The day I find a keychain with my name on it will be the day pigs fly. No, my brother and I have a running joke, we either try to find our nicknames or we find the most ridiculous name that’s not ours. Oh look here’s yours.” She held up a small keychain and laughed. “It even matches your glasses.”

"I'm guessing by that you mean it's red." Scott said.

"Oh yeah." Andromeda paused. "Can you only see red through your shades?"

"Pretty much." Scott said watching as Andromeda turned her attention back to the names.

"That's gotta suck." Andromeda mumbled her eyebrow suddenly raising. "So they have Donatello but no Don or Donnie but they have Dawn with a-w."

“They have Donna.” Scott said as he scanned the names.

“Ohh yes, nice one.” Andromeda approved as she grabbed the key chain and flipped it over.

As a frown crossed her face Scott knew she probably wasn't going to buy it. He couldn’t help but notice her fingers moving like the way they did when she had to count. She slowly put it back.

“Are you not going to get it?” He asked carefully.

“Um not right now, maybe when we leave.” Andromeda said, making her way out of the shop.

During lunch Andromeda had hung back a bit making Scott pause to look at her.

“Why don't you go ahead? I wanna get a good look at the menu.” She said smiling though it didn’t really meet her eyes.

“Yeah sure.” Scott said, waking forward.

He glanced back every so often finding her off to the side counting her money. When it was Scott’s turn to order he looked back and saw that Andromeda was now standing in line.

“Could I actually place an order for someone else?” Scott asked after he finished ordering his food.

“Sure kid.” The woman as she finished typing his order.

“It’s for the girl in the black lace shirt.” Scott said placing her order and giving the cashier the money.

“You got it.” The lady said, barely glancing up.

Scott got his food and walked off to a table pulling out his sheet and double checking his answers.

“You didn't have to do that.” Andromeda said standing beside him holding a tray with the food he had ordered her.

“Do what?” He asked, trying to act innocent. Andromeda sighed as she sat down next to him.

“Why do you have to be such a golden boy?” Andromeda suddenly asked taking Scott off guard.

“I’m sorry what?”

“It's just… your just so…” Andromeda huffed. “I just don't get you Scott Summers. You act like this goody two shoes yet you have this weird air of mystery around you. You're polite yet I could count the amount of friends you have on one hand. And I just don't know what to think about you.”

“Funny.” Scott said, a little taken aback by the backhanded compliment. “I could say the same thing about you.”

"I… what?" Andromeda asked, looking at Scott confused.

“You have a kind heart Andromeda yet you have a tendency of hiding behind this tough girl act. And I see that you try to make friends but you tend to guard yourself before you can get hurt.” Scott said.

Andromeda looked down at her food taken off guard by his comment. She seemed to be thinking of something deeply and finally she sighed and looked up at him.

“My parents have always been a bit strict. But ever since I turned a certain age they sorta went overboard.” Andromeda frowned as she glanced down. “It was hard enough being the new girl in school, it was even harder when no one really wanted to put in the effort of being my friend… there’s a reason I’ve been so hesitant with you. You’re such a golden boy I feel like you wouldn’t want to do what it takes to be my friend.”

“I’m not that much of a golden boy.” Scott frowned and Andromeda raised an eyebrow. “You should at least give me a chance.”

“Alright Summers, you got a deal.” Andromeda said, holding her hand out for him to shake.

Scott smiled and shook it hoping that maybe now he’d really be able to get to know her.

#scott summers x oc #cyclops x oc #xmen oc

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stattic-writes · 5 years

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lastbluetardis · 5 years

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Family of Six (14/14)

After James and Rose bring their newborn twins home, they work to find a balance between all four of their children, and each other. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU.

This chapter: Teen, 7600 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 34, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 5 months

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14

The Monday after his blowup with Rodney, James dreaded going into the university. It broke Rose’s heart to see him dawdling through his morning routine, allowing himself to get distracted with the girls to keep him from leaving for work. He asked to bottle-feed the twins, and while he did that, he played a game of Scrabble with Ainsley over the breakfast table.

Rose stood behind James’s chair and draped her arms around his neck to watch him play the word “veneer”.

“What’s that?” Ainsley asked, cocking her head to the side.

“A layer of something to make it more aesthetically pleasing,” James answered. “Usually applied to old wood or stone to make it look a bit nicer.”

Rose could almost see the gears of Ainsley’s mind working as she catalogued the word, then shifted her attention to her own playing tiles.

“You don’t go easy on her, do you?” Rose murmured into his ear.

“She’d fillet me alive if she knew I let her win at this,” James retorted.

Rose watched her daughter set down the word “quiver” with a proud smirk that looked just like her father. The ‘q’ landed on a double letter bonus and the ‘e’ reached the double word bonus, earning her a grand total of fifty-six points.

“Do you feel sorry for her anymore?” James pouted, scribbling down her score. With that word, she had soared into a healthy lead.

“Not one bit,” Rose said, grinning. “Though I’m beginning to feel sorry for you.”

“How is that game any fun?” Sianin asked as she stuffed a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. “It’s like school all over again. We’re on summer holiday, Ainsley.”

“It’s fun to try and make words from a random assortment of letters,” Ainsley said, pulling a new set of tiles from the velvet bag.

“We have very different ideas of fun,” Sianin grumbled.

Rose snorted, and contented herself to stand behind her husband and watch the progress of the game. When it was over—with James narrowly winning by three points—and the twins had finished eating, James jumped up to help with the dishes.

“No, you’ve got to get to work,” Rose said gently, placing a hand on his chest to halt him from going to the sink.

His face fell.

“We’ll be by for lunch,” Rose reminded, rubbing her hand up and down his chest. “Just think of that. A little less than four hours to get through before you see my glorious face again.”

The corners of his mouth lifted in a halfhearted attempt at a smile.

“I love you very much,” Rose said, sliding her hands up until she could wrap her arms around his neck.

He hugged her tightly.

“It’ll be okay, love,” she whispered into his ear. “It’ll be okay. You’ve got some students coming to your office this morning, then you’ll have lunch with me and the girls, then you’re covering what’s-his-name’s class this afternoon. After that, you can come home. See? Easy peasy.”

“I know,” he sighed, turning his head to kiss her cheek. “Thanks.”

She gave him one final squeeze then released him. After goodbye kisses to the girls, James scooped up his bag and coffee thermos and headed out the door.

“What’s wrong with Dad?” Ainsley asked, settling beside Rose at the sink to help with the dishes.

“He had a small argument with one of the people he works with, and he’s a little nervous to see him,” Rose answered.

“What were they arguing about?” Sianin asked.

“It’s none of our business,” Rose said.

“But Daddy told you,” Sianin pointed out.

“Okay, it’s none of your business,” Rose amended. “It’s grown-up problems.”

Sianin let out a long-suffering sigh, but didn’t push any further.

All morning, Rose worried about James. She wrote encouraging messages on her arms, as well as little doodles and outlandish declarations of love. He drew smiley faces beside each note, or a series of x’s and o’s, but otherwise didn’t respond.

When it was time to meet James for lunch, Rose corralled the girls into the car along with a bag of swimming gear, as she promised to take them to the pool that afternoon.

“Sian, take Ainsley’s hand,” Rose commanded as she worked on getting the twins set up in their pram in the university car park. “And don’t go anywhere.”

“There’s no one around,” Sianin said.

“It’s good practice,” Rose said. “Besides, in a couple years, you and Ainsley will be big helpers to make sure the twins don’t go racing off across the road.”

As she buckled the twins into the buggy, she heard Ainsley and Sianin sniping at each other. It didn’t sound too rude, so she let them handle it themselves.

“Ready?” she asked.

Ainsley and Sianin turned to her and nodded. Ainsley kept hold of Sianin’s hand as they walked towards the science building. Once inside, Rose waved cheerily at the employees in the front office and ducked inside so they could ooh and ahh over the twins and exclaim about how big Ainsley and Sianin were getting.

Five minutes later, Rose loaded the kids into the lift to take them to James’s office on the sixth floor. Knowing the way, Sianin bolted out of the lift the moment the doors opened and nearly jogged down the corridor.

“We use our walking feet when we’re indoors,” Rose called after her.

Sianin made a small effort to slow down her pace, but when James poked his head out of his office, she sped into a full-out sprint.

“Daddy!” she squealed, as though she hadn’t seen him in four days rather than four hours.

“Indoor voice,” Rose chastised, but she couldn’t help but smile as Sianin jumped into her father’s open arms.

“How is my favorite six-year-old doing today?” James asked, pressing a kiss to Sianin’s cheek as he stood with her on his hip.

“Good,” she replied. “How’s my favorite daddy?”

“Favorite daddy?” James squawked. “Last I checked, I was your only daddy.”

He bounced her in his arms and tickled her ribs, making her squirm and laugh, batting at his hands. The sound of an office door—Rodney’s—slamming shut startled him into stopping.

“Oops,” Sianin whispered, cringing. “Sorry.”

“It wasn’t you, darling. Your volume was fine,” James said firmly.

He gave her a squeeze and set her on her feet, then greeted the rest of his family. He kissed the top of Ainsley’s head, then peeked into the baby buggy, but both twins were napping. With a bright smile that never failed to turn her bones to liquid, he turned to Rose.

“Hi,” she said, smiling back at him. “Have a good morning?”

She tilted her cheek towards his offered kiss.

“Yeah, it wasn’t bad,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. Addressing the girls, he asked “Ready for lunch?”

Ainsley and Sianin led the way back to the lifts, leaving their parents behind. James slipped his arm around Rose’s waist and kept pace with her down the long corridor.

oOoOo

James hadn’t been lying to Rose when he said her opinion of him as a father and husband was the only one that mattered to him. However, it wasn’t enjoyable to be surrounded by people who, he now realized, had been silently judging him. Nevertheless, he kept his head high and a smile on his face as he passed his coworkers in the corridors.

With his shortened summer term hours, he didn’t need to spend too much time at the university. Any time he did spend there, he was either teaching, marking papers, or meeting with students to help them with material they didn’t understand. After all of his work was finished for the day, he was free to go back home to his family. He wasn’t sure how he would adapt when the fall term started; he certainly couldn’t hide in his office for eight hours every day.

Lunchtime was the hardest for him. He usually would eat in the faculty lounge with the rest of his coworkers, but ever since that dreadful confrontation between him and Rodney that everyone had witnessed, it had become awkward.

So James took to eating alone in his office. If he felt particularly pathetic, he would ask Rose to join him. If the weather was nice, he would eat outside or trek to the dining hall, where there was a faculty lunchroom on one of the upper floors.

He usually sat alone, but one day, a stranger decided to dine with him.

“You’re new here.”

James was absently twirling his fork through noodles when a woman slid gracefully into the seat across from him at the little two-person table he was eating at. The woman was around his age, give or take a few years, with big bushy curly hair.

“I’m Professor River Song,” the woman said, extending a hand towards him. “Anthropology department, focus in archaeology.”

James set down his fork and took her hand, shaking it once. “Professor James Tyler-McCrimmon. Physics department. And chemistry, I s’pose. They’re in the same building. They sort of overlap, don’t they? Well, depending on the topic. But they complement each other nicely.”

James’s cheeks heated at his rambling, but the woman just smiled at him in amusement.

“How long have you been here?” River asked, spearing her fork through her plate of pasta.

“Oh, I’m not new,” James explained, remembering her opening line. “Nah, I recently decided to take my lunches here. New experiences and all.”

The woman looked like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t press it. Instead, she asked him about his research interests and what he had studied in graduate school. She, in turn, told him about her graduate school experience, and how she’d gotten to travel across the world to various archives to write her thesis.

They talked for over an hour until River’s phone chimed.

“Oh, hell,” she sighed. “I’m twenty minutes late for a meeting.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you,” James said, hoping none of his own students had stopped by yet for office hours. “I should probably get going too.”

“This was nice,” River said, sliding her phone back into her pocket. “We should meet up again some time.”

“I’d like that,” James said, smiling.

“Laters,” River said with a wink, then she strode out of the dining hall.

James met up with River a couple times a week for lunch, talking about everything and nothing. They had similar interests outside of the university, and often discussed politics or sports or books. Taking lunch with her made the work day much more tolerable; he was glad to have a friend who wasn’t associated with any of the drama happening within the department.

Rodney had well and truly written James off and barely acted as though he existed, causing the rest of their coworkers to walk on eggshells around them both. Mark, it seemed, was the only one who stood up for James; however, James often saw Mark chatting and laughing with Rodney, too. He tried not to be too offended.

He confided in River a little bit about what was going on between him and his colleagues without going into specific details. He merely told her that he and his mates had “very different opinions that made situations slightly uncomfortable”.

“That sounds like a load of shit,” River said cheerfully. “And extremely unprofessional. Grown adults should be able to put aside their differences, eh?”

James rolled his eyes and sniffed. “I won’t set aside my morals to make peace with someone.”

“Not sure taking the high road is working in your favor, mate,” River drawled.

“I made a new friend out of it,” James said, gesturing towards her.

Her eyes twinkled as she grinned at him, and they continued their banter until James’s phone buzzed in a text.

Pipe burst under the sink in our room. Plumber can’t come ‘til tomorrow morning. I’m currently sifting through the mess.

“Oh dear,” he murmured under his breath. “So sorry, River, but I’ve got a wee emergency at home. Burst pipe.”

“Sounds like a delight,” River said, sipping her coffee. “Take care, James.”

He hastily bade his goodbyes than rushed home to help Rose. He didn’t know exactly what he could do to help, but he was sure she would appreciate another set of hands to clean up.

When he arrived at the house, he found the twins in the living room and Rose in their en suite, sitting before a damp vanity and shoulders-deep into the cabinet beneath.

“Where are Ainsley and Sianin?”

She flinched. He winced when he heard a thunk.

“Shit,” she hissed, massaging her elbow as she retreated from the cabinet.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, folding his legs under him as he sank to the floor beside her.

“Your dad offered to entertain them for the afternoon,” she said. “Good luck to him, though; Ainsley’s in a mood today.”

“Oh?” he asked, frowning.

“Yeah, it was weird. She had a bit of an attitude and was short-tempered with everyone. Not sure who pissed in her cereal, but I was so tempted to shut her away in her room until she sorted through whatever mood she was in. Then I lost my temper with her when she flat-out refused to move from the sofa to grab a bag of nappies from the nursery. She then claimed I’m a lazy mother for always making her look after her little siblings.” Rose rubbed her palm into her eyes. “I thought she liked helping with Sianin and the twins.”

“She does,” James soothed. “She’s just… having a really bad day, I suppose.” He rested his hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry love. And I’m sure she is too. You can talk it out when you’re both in better moods.” He jutted his chin towards the open cabinet door. “Have you shut off the water line to those pipes?”

“Nah, I figured I’d let it keep dripping all over our stuff.”

James pinched her leg, then scooted closer to the cabinet to reach inside and haul item after item out for inspection.

For the next hour, they worked together to mop up the water and sift through everything to determine what could or could not be salvaged.

“We’ll have to remember to replace those,” James said, inclining his head to the soggy, ruined box of tampons and pads. “And soon. You’re just about due, aren’t you?”

Rose hummed noncommittally, as though she hadn’t particularly heard him, and continued taking inventory of her makeup kit. Entire palettes of eye shadow and rouge and foundation had been lost.

James chucked a couple rolls of toilet paper into the garbage bag between them when Rose asked, “What’s the date?”

Her voice was faint, and he turned to her. Her cheeks had lost all color.

“You all right?”

“What’s the date?” she repeated impatiently.

“Ehm… August seventh? Eighth?”

Rose scrabbled for her mobile and began tapping at the screen, muttering under her breath. She ticked her fingers against her leg, as though keeping count.

“Rose, what’s the matter?”

“It can’t be… I can’t be!” Before he could ask again, she said, “I didn’t get my period. It should’ve come… I don’t know when. Two weeks ago? I can’t bloody remember when it was I last had it.”

James’s ears began to ring dully, sure he’d misheard her. “Excuse me?”

“I missed my period.” She buried her face into her hands, digging her palms into her eyes. “I can’t be pregnant. I can’t be. We’ve been careful!”

“Not necessarily,” James said, his stomach churning uncomfortably. “There have been a few times we’ve chanced it, when you said we were safe.”

“So this is my fault?” Rose snapped.

“Of course not. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Rose’s shoulders slumped. “Shit. Shit shit shit!”

James mechanically rose to his feet, his brain full of cotton and static as he tried and failed to process the influx of information. But he took it one step at a time, and the first step was to actually confirm their suspicion. “I’ll go out and buy a test. I’ll be back.”

“Shit, James. What are we going to do?” The helplessness in her voice broke his heart.

“You are going to stay here and continue cleaning up,” James said, nodding to their soaked cabinet. “I am going to go out and buy a pregnancy test. And then we’ll figure out what to do. Together.”

James walked out of the room without another word. He gathered his keys and wallet and made his way to the chemist’s.

Pregnant. Rose might be pregnant. Again. The universe must be playing a cruel joke on them, for making it so difficult to conceive the last time around, only to bring them an unplanned pregnancy mere months after they’d had their twins.

She might not be, said a little voice in his head. Don’t panic until you know for certain.

James tried to listen to the little voice in his head, but it was hard. He didn’t know if it made him a worse father for wishing Rose wasn’t pregnant, or for dreading the idea that she was.

Time blurred around him. He was vaguely aware of the drive into town then back home again, a small bag of pregnancy tests in the passenger’s seat.

Rose had made no more progress on cleaning their en suite, but he didn’t blame her. She was sitting in the exact same position as when he’d left her, and she jumped when he called her name softly.

He wordlessly handed her the bag of three pregnancy tests, then sat on the floor to wait. She joined him a minute later, and together they stared at the developing tests.

Slowly, a faint little negative sign bloomed across three different test windows.

Not pregnant.

James breathed out a sigh of relief, the tension flowing out of his body.

“Dodged that bullet.” Though Rose’s words were grateful, her tone was clipped.

He turned his head to look at her, but she had her eyes locked on the three tests in front of her.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.” She smiled at him, but the expression was brittle, and her eyes made it seem like she wasn’t seeing him. “Really. I didn’t want to be pregnant.”

He nodded slowly, wanting to believe her.

She stood abruptly. “I need some air. I’m going for a walk.”

“Talk to me,” he said, shooting to his feet.

“Please, James. I need a minute.”

Déjà vu squeezed his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. How many times had she been so disappointed by a negative test result that she’d gone on a run to brood in her thoughts? How many times had she gone off on her own and cried over her heartbreak and feelings of failure? How many times had he overlooked just how upset she was?

“Don’t shut me out,” he begged. “Please. Talk to me. Please.”

“How can I talk to you about what I’m feeling when I don’t even know how I feel?” Rose asked, her tone a little sharp. “Please, James. I need to think. Let me think. Then we’ll talk.”

“Promise?” he rasped, feeling childish for making her swear it.

Her face softened. “Cross my heart.” She drew an X across her chest, then across his, like he always did with their kids. “I need to be alone for a little while, but I’m not shutting you out.” Something in her eyes cleared, and her brows furrowed. “Are you okay? Will you be okay if I leave?”

Part of him selfishly wanted to tell her no, but he wouldn’t make her stay when she wanted space to think alone. So he nodded, and focused hard on breathing. Rose said she was okay, and that they’d talk. He had to trust that, to trust her. They would talk. They would sort out their emotions. They would be okay.

He repeated that mantra again and again as Rose pulled on her shoes.

“I’ll be back within an hour,” she promised.

He nodded, and then she was gone.

His brain screamed at him to go after her, to demand that they talk right now and fix whatever it was that was bothering her. He needed to know if she genuinely was happy that they weren’t pregnant.

What if she realized she was upset by the test result? Unbidden, he was taken back five years, to when Rose had taken a pregnancy test that turned out negative but sparked their desire for another baby. Was history repeating itself? Would Rose realize she wanted another baby, and they would go back down that road of uncertainty and failure and heartbreak and…?

Stop it, he hissed.

Desperately needing a distraction, he wandered into the living room where the twins were napping in their swings. The knot in his chest loosened as he beheld the two beautiful babies that were the end result of his and Rose’s pain. They were worth it. He would do it all again if it meant having Hannah and Maddie in his life.

But he didn’t particularly want to do it all again. He didn’t want to see the devastation on Rose’s face as they tried and failed month after month to make a baby. Besides, wasn’t their little family perfect as it was? Did he even want more children? Surely if he said he was finished fathering children, Rose wouldn’t make them try for another baby? But was he even one-hundred percent sure that he was done fathering children?

He tried to think ahead a few years. The spread of ages of their children was quite varied. By the time the twins were toddlers, Ainsley would be almost a teenager. Would he want to start over again with a baby when Ainsley was going through puberty and Sianin was only a few years away from it, too?

But on the other hand, if they wanted another baby, it would probably be a good idea to have one within a couple of years so that the new baby would be relatively close in age with the twins. However, they had twins. They already came as a paired, package deal. They could entertain each other as they grew up.

James’s head began to throb, and he sank to his bum in front of his babies. “Oh, my darlings, your daddy is having a day.”

He slowed the rocking of the swings and unbuckled each twin, bringing them onto the floor with him. Though they each stirred upon being moved, they eventually fell back to sleep. He lay down beside them and gazed into their faces.

They were the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen. Their soft, pale skin. Their little button noses. Their fair hair. He grudgingly had to admit that Rose might be right: their hair did appear as though it was growing in red. He made a note to ask Rose where the red-haired gene came from—her father had had red hair, hadn’t he? And Donna had gotten her red hair from somewhere. Though they were distantly related, those genes were swirling somewhere inside of him too.

“I love you both so much,” he murmured to the twins, his throat closing. “I love you so, so much.”

Tears burned behind his eyes as he watched his babies sleep. He didn’t know how he could feel simultaneously happy and sad. How he could feel like smiling and crying.

“Do you think you two would like having a baby sibling one day?” he mused, watching the rise and fall of their chests as he breathed. “Or do you think our family is complete as it is. A family of six. Six is a great number, innit? Half a dozen. Way better than the family of four that we used to be before you two came along. Though what about a family of seven? Oh, Lord. What if we had another set of twins? Family of eight? That might be a bit much, eh? Oh, I dunno…”

He heaved out a sigh that was loud enough to make Maddie flinch. “Sorry, darling. Daddy’s having a bit of trouble right now. You see, your mummy thought she might be pregnant again. She’s not. And I think she might be a wee bit upset about it, even though she said she’s not. Am I being paranoid? Am I overthinking things? I probably am. I wish she’d come home so we could talk.

“What if she wants another baby, though? I have no idea if I want another one. I mean, we just got you two. I’d like to enjoy you both for a little longer before considering adding a new baby to the mix. Obviously if your mummy fell pregnant a couple months from now, I would love that baby so much. I love all of my babies. But I think it’d be a bit hard.

“What am I even doing? Why am I obsessing over this when I don’t even know what your mummy is thinking?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and continued chatting softly to his sleeping babies as he waited for his wife to come home.

True to her word, Rose returned home fifty-three minutes later. He was still on the floor, but pushed himself to a sitting position when she walked in.

“I’m so sorry,” she said by way of greeting. “I’m sorry I just… ran out on you.”

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, patting the floor beside him.

Rose plopped down beside him and scooted the twins closer to them. She began absently playing with Hannah’s feet as she said, “Yeah, I am. I’m sorry. I got stuck in my head, in my memories. Seeing those negative tests brought back all the times I sat on that very floor in our loo, praying for a positive result. Only today, I was praying for a negative one. And even though the test came out the way I wanted it to, I couldn’t seem to escape all of the times I’d had my heart shattered again and again over the course of four years. And not just my heart, but yours too. I kept seeing your disappointment and hurt in my head, and being in that room, sitting there with you… it made it all come rushing back, and it was just as painful as it was the first time ‘round. But at the same time, I was so relieved to not be pregnant again. I was confused and needed to be alone somewhere that didn’t have memories associated with it. I’m sorry.”

James placed his arm around her shoulders and tugged her into his side. “I understand. You don’t need to apologize. I completely understand what it’s like to get stuck in your head. Well, my head. You know what I mean. Are you okay?”

“I am, yeah,” she said. “Are you?”

“I am now,” he replied. “I… I’ll admit I was panicking a little bit while you were gone. But Hannah and Maddie are great little listeners.”

“Your turn. What were you panicking about?” she asked.

“It’s stupid,” he confessed, because it really was now.

“It’s not,” she argued. “Please, James?”

“I thought you would decide you wanted another baby, which would put us back on the track we were in five years ago. I began panicking that we were about to spend the next four years trying and failing to get pregnant.”

Rose let go of Hannah’s feet and turned into him to wrap her arms around his waist. He clutched her fiercely to him, burying his nose in her hair. It smelled like wind and sunshine and summertime.

“I love you,” she whispered into his neck.

“Love you, too,” he mumbled into her hair. He pulled back to look her in the eye. “We’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she answered, smiling faintly. “Though I’m upset this brought back bad memories for the both of us. I mean, it’s been years, and we’ve got the twins now. I guess I’d thought we put all of those demons to rest, y’know?”

“We went through something traumatic,” he said gently. “An old wound is still a wound, no matter how healed you think it is.” He paused, but then asked, “So… is this indicative that we’re done having children? If we were so relieved we’re not expecting again, does this mean we’re happy with our family as it is? If so, we can get some sort of permanent birth control performed. It doesn’t even have to be you; I’ll gladly have my bits snipped away, just say the word and…”

“Slow it down, love,” Rose said, amused. “I don’t know how permanent I want our birth control to be. I don’t know if our family is complete as it is. I am perfectly content with my life, and I’m so happy and in love with you and our girls. But I don’t know if I’m done having children. Unless…” She cocked her head to the side. “Are you finished having children? Are you dead set against any more?”

“What if I said I was?” James asked carefully, trying to buy himself some time. Despite brooding over it for the past hour, he still hadn’t come to a conclusion about whether he wanted to have more children or not.

“Then I’d happily drive you to the hospital tomorrow to get your bits snipped off,” she said playfully. More seriously, she added, “I don’t want any more babies unless you do as well.”

“Before anyone snips at my bits, let’s take some time, eh? I think I’m in the same boat as you… I don’t know if I’m ready to permanently close myself off to the idea of having more children. I don’t want any more right now, but within the next couple of years?” He shrugged. “And maybe I’ll never decide that I’m ready for another child. But can you make me a promise?”

“I’ll try,” Rose said, wary.

“If you decide one way or another—either you really want another baby or you really don’t—let me know immediately?”

“I will make that promise as long as you do, too,” Rose said.

“I promise,” he said. “Cross my heart, pinkie swear, deal.”

He drew an X across both of their chests, then hooked his little finger around hers, and finally shook her hand, sealing the vow. He grinned when Rose laughed at him.

“Oh, I love you, you daft nutter,” she said, her eyes bright.

“Your daft nutter loves you too. Very much.”

“I’ll have a chat with Elizabeth about alternate forms of birth control,” Rose said. “I don’t want to go back on the pill again; it threw my hormones and emotions all out of whack the last time I tried to go on it after Ainsley was born. But maybe there’s an injection or an implant or something I can get. I’ll try to remember to give her a call to schedule something.”

“Sounds good.” He leaned his head against hers. “Shall we go back to cleaning up?”

It took another hour or so to clean up the mess. When they were done, they loaded the twins into their car and drove over to Robert’s house to collect their eldest children. Robert and Sianin were in the front garden playing when they arrived.

“Mummy!” Sianin said, racing up to them.

“Hi, baby. Are you having fun with Grandad?”

“Uh huh! Grandad said we had to play outside since Ainsley’s ill. He taught me something called football. But not football. American football! It’s played with a weird-shaped ball and nobody actually touches it with their feet.”

“Ainsley’s ill?” James repeated.

“Sianin, why don’t you start cleaning up?” Robert suggested. While she picked up the toys and games from the grass, he explained, “I think she might have gotten a migraine. She complained that her head hurt, then all of a sudden she said everything hurt. The TV was too loud, the lights too bright, her clothes too scratchy. I set her up in her bedroom. She’s been asleep for nearly three hours now.”

Rose made for the house, and James followed on her heels. They walked to the room Ainsley and Sianin shared when they slept over at Robert’s house, and saw their daughter curled in a tight ball with her pillow over top her head. She was utterly still except for the slight rise and fall of her chest.

Not wanting to disturb her, they backed out of the room.

“That might explain her short temper,” James mused.

“God, why didn’t she tell me she wasn’t feeling well?” Rose asked.

“Maybe she didn’t know what it was?” he suggested. “I’ve gotten migraines before where the first symptom was irritability because everything was too overstimulating. It’s not ‘til later that the headache and sensitivities began.”

“Still feel awful,” Rose mumbled.

“Speaking of feeling awful, we left the twins in the car.”

Rose groaned and jogged outside, but Robert had taken the babies out of the car and was sitting with them and Sianin in the grass. Sianin had both babies’ hands in each of hers and was rocking them backwards and forwards. Each baby was giggling and squirming with delight.

“Mummy, Daddy, watch this!” She then proceeded to push and pull the babies, sending them into another fit of laughter.

They stayed at Robert’s for another half hour. Ainsley eventually found them outside, and though she claimed she felt much better, she was pale and shaky.

James and Rose bade Robert farewell, then loaded up the kids into the car and drove home. Though she’d slept all afternoon, Ainsley immediately went to the couch and laid down.

“Let’s try to be quiet since Ainsley’s not feeling well,” James whispered to Sianin. “Indoor voice only, and the television must stay quiet.”

Sianin nodded and, to their surprise, she went to the sofa and sat by Ainsley’s head. The six-year-old stroked her elder sister’s hair and turned the television volume down so low that it was virtually impossible to hear.

Ainsley fell asleep almost immediately, and after a while, so did Sianin.

James and Rose took this opportunity to play with their babies. They cringed any time a baby squealed with delight, but when it was clear their oldest children were dead asleep, they stopped worrying so much about Hannah and Maddie staying quiet.

Both babies rolled all over the floor—the newest trick they’d learned—and James and Rose amused themselves by placing objects around the living room floor for the twins to roll to.

“James, look!”

James tore his attention from Hannah, who was more interested in sucking on her toes than rolling towards her stuffed rabbit, to look at Maddie. His heart nearly stopped when he saw his five-and-a-half-month-old baby was on her hands and knees. Though wobbly, she maintained the position.

“How’d she do that?” he demanded, racing across the floor to plop beside Rose and Maddie.

His sudden appearance startled Maddie, who flopped face-first onto the floor. Her eyes went wide, then scrunched as she let out a wail.

“Oh, no, darling,” James cooed, picking her up to set her on her bum. “Daddy’s sorry he frightened you. You’re all right. No harm done.”

Maddie blinked big wet eyes at him, her bottom lip pouting out. James smiled reassuringly at her, and she grinned in return.

“There we are,” he said, tickling her ribs lightly. He swiped his thumbs under her eyes to wipe away the unnecessary tears.

Maddie babbled out a string of sounds, then she reclined onto her back and rolled onto her tummy. She lifted her head to look at her parents, as though making sure they were watching her.

“Go on, Maddie,” Rose urged. “Let’s get up on those hands and knees again, eh?”

Maddie beamed, then she looked down at the floor, enthralled by her hands like she’d never seen them before. She then planted her palms on the rug and began doing pseudo-pushups.

“Come on,” Rose said. “You can do it, love.”

Maddie surged her weight backward, finally getting her knees under her.

“How marvelous, darling!” James breathed. He reached behind him for Rose’s mobile, and he opened up the camera app. He snapped a series of photos of Maddie on her hands and knees, then took a short video as she rocked herself.

She soon tired of the position, and she sprawled onto her stomach and rolled onto her back. She let out an annoyed squawk and lifted her hands into the air. Rose placed her index fingers in Maddie’s palms, and helped the baby sit up onto her bum. She grinned at them.

“Who’s my strong little girl?” Rose cooed, bouncing the baby’s hands in front of her. Maddie squealed happily, flailing her hands wildly. “You’re my strong little girl!”

Maddie leaned forward towards Rose, reaching out and babbling. Rose picked Maddie up and brought her to her chest. Rose leaned back against the couch, taking care not to disturb Ainsley and Sianin, and brought her knees up, letting Maddie sit back against her thighs.

“She’ll be crawling before we know it,” James said, tucking himself into Rose’s side.

Hannah noticed that her parents were no longer paying attention, and so she let out a loud shriek. James winced and crawled to his other baby. She beamed as he stared down at her.

“You can roll over to us, darling,” James said dryly, picking up the baby and crawling back to Rose and Maddie.

“But why would she when she has a daddy to carry her around everywhere?” Rose asked sweetly.

He stuck his tongue out at her.

“It’s going to become a madhouse when these two can get around on their own,” Rose said.

“Gotta start being conscious with baby proofing,” James agreed. “And getting Ainsley and Sianin to realize how important it is to be more careful around the house, too. No more leaving small pieces of things laying around. Covering electrical outlets.”

Rose sighed, taking Maddie’s hands in hers and clapping them together gently. The baby cooed and watched her hands in fascination.

“All right?” James asked.

“Yeah. The house just… it seems so much smaller now at the prospect of these two becoming mobile.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… Ainsley and Sianin have their toys spread throughout the whole house. But we’re going to need to move them. At least the ones with small, loose pieces. We can move some of them to their bedrooms, but there’s already loads of toys in their rooms.”

“Sounds to me like we need to have a toy cleanse,” James teased. Rose didn’t answer, and James knocked his shoulder against hers. “What are you thinking?”

“That we ought to consider moving into a larger house,” she said honestly. “Meaning we ought to consider moving up to your family’s manor in Scotland.”

“Oh?”

Rose nodded resolutely. “Our kids are only going to get bigger and start accumulating more stuff. And yeah, we can try to limit the amount of stuff they have, but I don’t want to force them to get rid of things they’re not ready to part with. And it’s just… all of the rooms in the house are taken. I feel awful that you have to mark papers in our bedroom when you want someplace quiet to go. And I don’t have a space with good lighting to work on my art, unless I want to do it here in the living room. And from our conversation this afternoon, what if we do decide to have another baby in the future? We have nowhere to put them. The manor is probably far too much room than we actually need, but—maybe I’m spoiled for saying this—I’d rather have too much space than not enough.”

“Rose, breathe,” James said, amused. “You don’t need to defend yourself, love.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“You’ve clearly been thinking about this for a while,” he noted curiously.

“Maybe a little bit. Though it’s always been in the back of my mind since learning we were having twins. D’you remember?”

Now that she’d mentioned it, he did recall the conversation they’d had upon returning home from the sonogram exam with the knowledge they were having two babies. They’d discussed moving to the Scottish manor one day, and clearly that day had arrived.

“Okay. So let’s say we decide to move up to Scotland,” James mused. “When would this move take place? Now? In a couple months? In a year?”

“I was thinking next summer,” Rose said. “That gives us plenty of time to get the girls mentally prepared to leave the only home they’ve ever known. And we would have time to get the manor ready, if any repairs or updates or renovations are needed.”

“We’d have to find a time to go up to Scotland to check out the house. Get an idea of what work we’d want done to it.”

“Christmastime,” Rose supplied. “We’ll be there anyway. Might as well poke around and make notes and maybe talk to a contractor or two.”

“You’ve considered everything, haven’t you?” he asked, tugging at the end of her ponytail.

“Perhaps,” Rose said. “And if we moved in the summertime, there’s the added bonus that the kids will have the summer to adjust to the move and their new home before starting at a new school.”

James smiled at his wife, incredulous and impressed with how well thought-out and planned her idea was. He reached over and rubbed Maddie’s belly slowly, watching the slow blink of her eyes as she succumbed to sleep, then turned to Hannah. She was chewing on the side of her fist, drool dripping down her chin and cheeks.

“Charming,” he drawled to his baby.

She beamed and gurgled up at him. He couldn’t help but smile back at her. His heart was so full of love for his family. Though a small pang went through his chest at leaving behind the home that he and Rose had raised their children in, he couldn’t deny that he would love to share his childhood home with his family.

“Would being in Scotland be too difficult?” Rose asked quietly. “For you or your dad? Because your mum…” She trailed off with a small, helpless shrug.

“I can only speak for myself, but no. I miss my mum, and will always miss my mum, but thinking of her doesn’t hurt anymore. At least, not usually. All I have left of her is my memories, and those are happy things. So no, I don’t think it would be too difficult to live in that house. Besides, I grew up mostly in the United States. From growing up, the Scottish house holds memories of holidays, and we’ve already had loads of holidays there since Mum died.”

“Will you let me know if you change your mind?” Rose asked, slipping her arm around his waist.

He nodded, and rested his cheek on top of her head. He glanced to the two babies in their arms, listened to the quiet breathing of Ainsley and Sianin behind him, and basked in the warmth of Rose radiating into his side. His entire world existed solely in this room, and his heart swelled with how much he loved his perfect little family.

“I think moving to Scotland is a good idea,” he concluded, kissing the crown of Rose’s head.

“You don’t want to think more about it?” she asked.

It felt like he’d already been thinking about it for eons. When he imagined his family in Scotland, a sense of rightness settled over him like a blanket, as though that was always where they were meant to end up. Part of him knew that it was inevitable; the house was always passed down through the family, and so he knew he would one day inherit it. But that didn’t mean he had to live there. However, he wanted to.

“No,” he said simply. “It logically makes the most sense, but more than that, I’m excited to move back home. Maybe I’ll get my Scottish accent back.”

He reverted back to the brogue that had disappeared as he had gotten older. He’d often been teased as a child for his Scottish accent, and so it had slowly morphed into a more refined English accent.

“You have no idea how sexy that is,” Rose murmured, eyes darkening.

He gave her a theatrical wink and knocked his shoulder into hers, leaning close to rumble, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind later tonight… If you want…?”

She shoved her shoulder into his. “Behave.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Right. So a new chapter awaits our little Tyler-McCrimmon brood, eh?”

“Seems like it,” Rose said, nestling her head into the crook of his shoulder. “So. Reconnaissance mission at Christmas, renovations next spring, relocation next summer?”

“Sounds like a plan,” James said with a happy hum. “A very alliterative plan.”

It was a good plan, and they both were smugly satisfied with themselves for such preemptive thinking.

They relaxed into each other, confident in the new direction their family was headed in.

The End

We’ve made it to the last chapter! This turned out to be nearly double the length I originally thought it would be. Thanks to everyone who has read this story.

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #soulmates #soulmates au #james x rose #soulmates verse #perfectly matched series #family of six #my fic #family fic #kid fic #baby fic

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queenmorgawse · 5 years

Text

here we go again

CHAPTER ONE. modern au wangxian ft. family feels, inspired by mamma mia. read on ao3 for end notes.

Wei Yuan's day begins, unusually, with the loud whirring of a landing helicopter.

“Don’t just leave your plate here!” Wen Qing chides, but by the time she pokes her head outside, the boy is already halfway up the hill, shouting back apologies as he crams the last of his toast into his mouth. He stops just short of the landing zone, watching in delight as the helicopter’s rotor blades slow then stop, and three silhouettes emerge from the small dust cloud their arrival created. “Good morning, uncle, auntie! Hi, didi!” he calls, waving his arms in an attempt to clear his sight.

Jin Zixuan, Wei Yuan’s gufu , lifts his sunglasses from his nose and tucks them on his collar before shaking the boy’s hand. “Hello, A-Yuan.”

“Yuanyuan, you’re growing so fast, I can’t catch up anymore!” This is from Wei Yuan’s guma , Jiang Yanli, who’s already thrown her arms around him. He buries his face in her blouse, breathing in the breezy scent of lotuses. She strokes his hair, cooing. “Seriously, you’re getting so tall. You’ll shoot past your dad any minute now!”

“Not that much, auntie,” he protests weakly when she lets him go.

“Pscht. He told me the same thing when he was little, and look how he is now. Ling-er! Come say hi, don’t be rude.”

Jin Ling, Wei Yuan’s favorite (and only) cousin, is still lingering behind his parents, airpods jammed into his ears. He looks up at the sound of his mother’s voice, though, cracks one of his rare smiles, and accepts Wei Yuan’s hug ⎯ which means he stands still enough for Wei Yuan to embrace him, though he jerks away with a muffled protest at the attempt to pat his head.

“Your luggage is already here,” Wei Yuan says, turning back toward his uncle and aunt. “I’ll help carry it to your rooms.” ( Who else could it be? No one brings that many brand name suitcases for a month’s stay, and if they did, they certainly wouldn’t be stacked in the Wei family’s own living room. )

“Thank you, darling, we’ll take care of that,” Jiang Yanli reassures him. “Do you know where your father went? I thought he’d be with you.”

“He’s kind of all over the place these days, with the anniversary coming up.” All over the place is an euphemism ; the list of things to plan seems endless, and as usual, Wei Yuan’s father doesn’t trust anyone but Wen Qing and himself to get things done.

“He’ll get here soon, though! I’m sure he heard you coming!” the boy quickly adds when a worried look crosses his aunt’s face. The entire island probably heard the landing, but then again, given its size, it’s not much of a statement.

Jiang Yanli gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “It’s okay, Yuanyuan, we know how it is, we’ll take it from here. We know our way around, don’t we, Zixuan?”

“Of course, of course,” his uncle says, then jerks his chin at Jin Ling. “A-Ling, why don’t you go and catch up with A-Yuan? Weren’t you excited to be here?”

“Don’t tease him, love,” Jiang Yanli chides, her eyes too full of amusement to truly come off as stern. “But yes, you boys go take a walk, stretch your legs a little after the flight. Don’t take too long, though! Come back to say hi to da-jiu, okay?”

“Yes, mama,” Jin Ling mutters at the same time Wei Yuan says “Of course, auntie.” With one last glance to check the adults actually did mean it, they leave Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli to give the last of their instructions to their pilot and run back down the hill, leaving only footprints behind.

---

Wei Yuan has to admire his cousin’s poker face, because Jin Ling morphs into an enthusiastic puppy the moment they’re out of earshot. “So! What’s the super duper mysterious thing you couldn’t even text me about?”

“It’s not that I couldn’t, I wanted to tell you in person!” Wei Yuan protests. They settle in his favorite conversation spot, an old, gnarled tree so sturdy it barely moves at all when the two boys climb into it and find comfortable seats where the thickest of its branches meet.

This is when the first tendrils of what feels suspiciously like stage fright begin to curl in his stomach. Don’t be stupid, Wei Yuan chides himself. It’s too late to take it back anyway! With new resolution, he forces himself to grit out : “I think I know who my other father is.”

Jin Ling gasps, clapping both his hands over his mouth. Wei Yuan can’t tell if he’s genuinely surprised or just being dramatic. “For real?”

“I said I think !”

“Well, you can’t just say that and not follow up! Spit it out!”

“You’ve got to promise you’re not gonna snitch on me. Like, I’ll be grounded for life if you do,” Wei Yuan insists.

“Pinky promise.” They both have to lean a dangerous way out of their seats to lace their fingers together, but Wei Yuan does feel a little more reassured when Jin Ling lets go.

“Okay, so,” he starts again, clearing his throat. “We were spring cleaning last year, so I was in charge of doing the attic because Dad said the rest was too messy and he’d do it himself, and I found this box with old sketches in it. I’m not gonna show you, though, it’s pretty private.”

“But you went through them,” Jin Ling points out. “That’s not very private.”

Wei Yuan flushes. “I didn’t know what they were at first! You know how dad is, he doodles all the time and leaves it all over the house.” He spares a thought for eleven-year-old Wei Yuan, who sincerely thought this was just another batch of his father’s mindless drawings. “Okay, get this, I was just sorting through the boxes because auntie A-Qing wanted to clear the space, so I had to throw things out⎯”

---

Wei Yuan blows a layer of dust off an ancient-looking wooden box and immediately chokes, waving his free hand in front of his face in an effort to clear the air. He gives it an experimental rattle, then, when the contents barely make a sound, spends a solid five minutes digging his nails into the hair-thin line that runs across it before he successfully pries it open.

He only barely keeps the dozens of stacked-up sheets from spilling onto the floor. As things are, most of them fall into his lap. Picking one up at random, Wei Yuan immediately recognizes the style. There, in pencil and charcoal, are the same bold strokes his father puts to paper every other day. He would know better than most ; the protagonists of his childhood stories still decorate the walls of his bedroom, lovingly preserved in hand-painted frames.

But while Wei Yuan's collection is a motley group of characters as different from one another as father and son could make them, all these drawings represent the same person : a young man with long black hair and a face as regal as an ancient god's. As Wei Yuan flips through the sheets, he finds the man looking back at him, bent over a book with glasses perched on his nose, tying his hair back with a cloud-patterned ribbon — even one in which he stares straight at the artist, his smile soft and lovely. Wei Yuan looks at that one for a long time before mustering the will to put it away.

Just behind it, he finds the letter.

He can instantly tell if wasn’t written by his father. There’s no trace of Wei Ying’s messy scrawl here, only script so neat it could have been typewritten. He quickly skims through it and⎯

“I can’t read that,” Wei Yuan moans, quickly shoving it in between the sketches again.

He almost wishes it was something saucy. Instead, it feels like peering into the depths of someone’s heart, so intimate he feels like slamming a non-existent door shut and leaving the words to their business.

( He can still see them in his mind. The sun rises in my chest every time I see you. I never want to look away. )

There’s a signature. There, in elegant cursive, is the name Lan Zhan.

“A-Yuan, lunch’s ready!” his father calls from downstairs. Wei Yuan trips to hide the box behind his back before the man in question pokes his head through the hatch, hair full of rogue dust bunnies and sporting a lopsided grin. “C’mon, I made sandwiches.”

When the boy eyes him warily, Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “There’s no pepper in them, I promise. Come down before your auntie gets impatient, though.”

“I’ll be there in a minute, I just want to finish this pile!” Wei Yuan croaks.

“One minute.” Despite the ultimatum, his father winks at him and disappears again. Wei Yuan waits for the sound of his footsteps to fade to let out a sigh of relief.

The box’s content seem to stare back at him. Feeling only slightly guilty, he takes the letter out again and carefully folds it, stuffing it into his pocket before scrambling down the ladder.

---

It’s an entire afternoon of chores before Wei Yuan can excuse himself from the dinner table and climbs the stairs to uncle Wen Ning’s desk two steps at the time, making sure to shut the door behind him before he turns the computer on.

Lan Zhan , he types. The half-second the search results take to load seems to last eternally. His hand almost slips clicking on the top link, a Wikipedia article.

Lan Zhan, courtesy name Lan Wangji, born January 23 1984 in Gusu, China, is a celebrated singer and songwriter. His most successful single, Inquiry , was sold at more than…

Wei Yuan's eyes derail from the text, distracted by the article's picture. There, pale golden eyes glancing away from the camera, is the man from the sketches — older, perhaps, but more than recognizable in his otherworldly beauty.

His heart rate picks up, drumming in his chest. It's him. It's really him. Dad knew this guy. Dad liked him so much he drew him over and over again.

Just like that, Wei Yuan's enthusiasm deflates like a popped balloon.

His father has never shied away from the extravagant tales of his when-I-was-younger shenanigans, as embarrassing as they can get. If he knew someone so famous - no, if he was in love with him, Wei Yuan corrects himself, remembering the letter's gentle words -, wouldn't he have at least mentioned it?

This is how Wei Yuan’s life has always been : to the million-dollar question ( who’s my other dad? ), he’s always received the same answer, be it from his uncles or his aunts.

I don’t know, A-Yuan. Maybe you should ask your father instead.

That, of course, is an inevitable dead end. Wei Ying will ruffle his hair, maybe drop a casual can’t remember, baby, and change the subject. At this point, Wei Yuan has pretty much resigned himself never to get a straight answer from his father.

The screen in front of him seems like an ancient tome holding all the answers he’s looking for, if only he’ll bother to decipher them.

His eyes drift to a cloud-shaped logo, curling around an elegant character he recognizes as the Lan of Lan Wangji’s name. Cloud Recesses Entertainment, Wei Yuan reads. After a long moment spent staring at the computer, he grabs the nearest notepad, tears a page out of it and starts to scroll down the page.

---

“So, let me get this straight,” Jin Ling says slowly. “You found the guy you think is your dad, looked up his family's company, read their entire website, made a new email to write to them like you were an actual advertiser for the hotel and now they're having their company holidays here ?”

When put like that, it certainly sounds more convoluted (and borderline crazy) than Wei Yuan intended it to be. “...Yes?”

“And you couldn’t just invite him personally? Like a normal person?”

“ No! First, I probably wouldn’t even get past his fan mail. Second, what was I supposed to tell him? ‘Hi, I know you and my dad were in love before I was born because I looked through his stuff, and I’d like to know if you’re maybe my father too’? I’d die before I managed to send that!” He pauses to catch his breath. “Maybe he doesn’t even remember dad! Would you remember someone you met thirteen years ago and then never again?”

“I-I don’t know! Maybe?” Jin Ling splutters. “Anyway, da-jiu is gonna kill you when he finds out. Well, not kill you ‘cause he loves you too much, but you did think about that, right?”

“No! I mean...maybe I'm wrong, and it's just a coincidence. But I think I'll know when I talk to him. If he's not my dad, there's no need to tell him, it'd just be embarrassing.”

“So all of this is relying on a couple drawings and a gut feeling? That's what you're gonna use to explain?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

Jin Ling throws his hands up. “Really? You masterminded this whole thing and this is where you’re stumped?”

“I tried, okay?” Wei Yuan protests weakly. “Besides, dad’s gonna be so busy with your mom and shushu coming over. Maybe he won’t notice for a while, I can work something out in the meantime…”

“When’s that guy supposed to get here?”

Wei Yuan squints, trying to conjure up the schedule he scribbled in-between some chemistry notes. “Tomorrow, I’m pretty sure. I don’t have to worry about it right now, I guess.”

“More time to plan for your funeral, then.”

“Hilarious, I’m dying of laughter over here,” Wei Yuan deadpans back. “For real, you can’t tell anyone, okay? Not even your mom and dad,” he adds when Jin Ling opens his mouth again.

“Fine!” Though his cousin is wearing his usual pout again, he can tell the message went through alright. “Can we get ice cream now? It’s so hot on your stupid island.”

Wei Yuan stifles a smile, beckoning the other to get up. “Sure. Dad tried his hand at some mulberry thing, it’s pretty good, actually…”

---

“Jiang Cheng! Hey, Jiang Cheng!”

Some of the locals hide an indulgent smile behind their hands as a silhouette in jean overalls runs down the pier, skillfully avoiding crashing into tourists.

At the other end of the wooden boards, Jiang Cheng runs a hand down his face. The person behind him shakes silently, as if trying to repress a giggle and failing.

Wei Ying stops in front of the couple, beaming, before holding out his arms. Despite his apparent exasperation, Jiang Cheng steps into the hug all the same, though his expression turns long-suffering when his brother gives his back a vigorous rub.

As Wei Ying pulls away, his eyes drift to the other figure and immediately crinkle at the corners. “Huaisang! So you’re the mysterious plus one! What was it like riding the ferry like the rest of us?”

“Exotic,” Nie Huaisang sighs, which sends both of them into a fit of hysterics.

A few feet away, someone whispers, “Wait, Huaisang as in Nie Huaisang ? From the Untamed?”

“Yeah, but no pics, please!” Wei Ying chirps at the tittering tourists. “Leave my guy some privacy, he’s on holidays!”

“He’s not that worried about privacy,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “I had to stop him from posting about us on every available account he has for three months.”

Wei Ying gapes. “Three months? You’ve been together for three months and you didn’t tell me about it? Jiang Cheng,” he sighs, pressing a hand to his heart as if covering a mortal wound, “I thought you were my brother.”

“He was hiding it from you in particular,” Nie Huaisang oh-so-helpfully points out, then snaps his fan open. “Said you couldn’t be trusted to keep it on the down low.” Wei Ying has the distinct impression he’s concealing a shit-eating grin.

“I’ve been mortally wounded,” Wei Ying moans, and dramatically collapses into Jiang Cheng’s arms, who pushes him back upright while swearing under his breath.

The episode might have turned into a small brawl right there on the pier, if not for Nie Huaisang’s T-shirt.

“Oh my God, you still have it!” Wei Ying all but squeals, grabbing the other man by the shoulders and pulling away his fan to inspect his outfit. “It's the original logo, right?”

Nie Huaisang proudly tugs on the lapels of his sheer jacket to show off the shirt beneath. “The one I drew in professor Hua's class? Yup.”

Wei Ying heaves a sigh, running his fingers over each ray of the sun-shaped logo. Suddenly, he’s back in college, and Nie Huaisang just texted him a rough sketch of their band’s design, oblivious to his art professor’s shadow over his shoulder. “Holy shit, I miss Sunshot. Remember that stunt we pulled at graduation?”

“My brother was on my ass about it for a whole year after that,” Nie Huaisang shrugs, then snaps his fingers. “It was so worth it, though.”

“Right? Jiang Cheng, aren’t you mad you didn’t do it with us?”

The interested party crosses his arms, glare barely suppressing the smile tugging at his mouth. “Making a show of yourselves like that? No.”

“Your loss, didi.”

Nie Huaisang snickers. “Don’t listen to him, he brought the shirt too.”

“I’ve had enough of you two,” Jiang Cheng gripes. “Is A-Jie here already? I miss having someone sensible around.”

“She and the peacock arrived this morning.” Wei Wuxian stretches languidly, shooting his brother a wide grin. “I’d come and hang out, but I’ve got some murals to redo before the next group gets here and they’re not gonna paint themselves.”

Jiang Cheng mutters something that sounds a suspicious lot like good riddance , but doesn’t pull away when Wei Ying loops an arm around his shoulders. “I missed you, though! Facetime’s not the same, you know?”

His brother seems to brace himself, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Mom and Dad want you over for Christmas. You and A-Yuan. We can see each other then.”

Slowly, Wei Ying untangles himself from their half-embrace. “They do?” The unspoken question hangs between them : even Mom ?

“Yeah. They’ll probably call you themselves, but I thought I’d give you a heads up.”

Wei Ying’s heart feels warmer than before. In a characteristic display of older sibling assholishness, he ignores the soft, marshmallow-y fondness and reaches for Jiang Cheng to ruffle his hair. “Aww! Thanks, A-Cheng, that’s so sweet of you.”

“How do I ever put up with you?”

Nie Huaisang’s voice snaps them both back into reality. The actor waves his fan at them, smile playing at his lips. “Very tender, heartwarming, yadda yadda. Can we do this somewhere with AC, though? I’m sweating bullets here.”

“Alright, alright, can’t make the superstar wait! Gimme that.” Wei Ying barely waits for assent before grabbing Nie Huaisang’s suitcases, wincing at their weight before pulling them up the slope and toward his car.

“What about me?” Jiang Cheng asks as he readjusts his grip on his own luggage and follows suit.

Wei Ying barely turns back. “What about you? You know the way, didi, carry it yourself.”

“You -”

Jiang Cheng’s outraged protests and his companions’ laughter seems to linger long after the jeep has left nothing but dust in its wake.

Three months ago

The telephone rings, shrill and ears-piercing. Wen Ning picks it up almost as second nature, mechanically bringing it to his ear as he flips through their latest batch of flyers. “Lotus Pier Resort, what can I do for you?”

A few awkward seconds of silence pass. He pats around his desk for a pen, drops it to the floor, and attempts to maintain a more-or-less steady voice as he crawls around on the carpet to find it again. “Ah, yes. Your flight got delayed? By how long?”

The scritch of his newly-retrieved pen on the nearest post-it. “If we can change your reservation? Um...it’s half a day, I’ll see what I can do. If necessary, will you mind different arrangements for the time being? I’ll talk to other hotels in the area, but I don’t think it’ll come to that...”

A pause.

“Okay, to confirm, this is Luo Qingyang, calling for Cloud Recesses Entertainment…?”

Present days

Wei Ying wipes his forehead, further smearing green acrylic across his face. He’s been at it all day since dropping off Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang in their room, but at least the mural is nearly done. The couple’s features are nothing special, but he likes to think he did a good job at depicting their emotions. One of the silhouettes smiles wide and contagious at the other, half-turning back with their hand held out.

It took him the better part of the afternoon just to paint the field of flowers they’re standing in, though. Even after more than a decade on this island, the heat’s still making him melt on the daily. Just a few more details , he tells himself, then I can go get myself a fresh drink.

The chatter of new guests making their way up to the lobby makes his head turn. Oh right, the group’s arriving today. They really do look like rich tourists, in their all-white outfits and⎯

Wait.

Wei Ying swallows thickly. This stirs up memories of another figure in white, which doesn’t hurt any less, even after thirteen-odd years.

It’s just a coincidence. Normal company-organized holidays, Wen Qing said. Nothing to worry about.

He looks again, and meets the gaze of the man at the forefront of the group. The other’s eyes (molten gold, bright as sunlight and most of all familiar ) widen ever so slightly, and Wei Ying almost falls off the ladder.

He catches himself just in time, sweaty and paint-slicked palms slipping on the rails, and resists the urge to let go again just to hide his face in his hands.

This is the worst. God, why him of all people?

Why, of all guests getting on and off the island all summer - as they have for years -, did it have to be Lan Zhan ?

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mdzs fic #kim's fics #mm!au

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tora-the-cat · 5 years

Text

Cats and Dogs (kakayama soulmate drabble)

He couldn't say when they started. Honestly, he never paid all that much attention to his arms. Maybe, if his soulmate was less...enthusiastic then he never would have noticed.

Alas, the universe is not so kind as to simply let him give up on any hope for some sort of meaningful bond. No, instead it decides to throw him a bone. Too late, he tried to convince himself, squash that spark of hope that had lit with the sight of the intricate but uniform roots being sketched up and down his right arm. Part of him scrambled to force him to shove it out of mind, resign himself to long sleeves and getting dressed with no mirrors, but another part couldn't look away as flowers were added to the pattern.

He wondered how long they'd been doing this, how long it had taken him to notice in between ANBU death-squad missions and deppressions lastings weeks at a time. He couldn't clearly recall the last time he looked in a mirror. For how long had he missed this?

Finally, with much effort, he ripped his eye away from his arm, forcing himself to move forward. He had a mission, and could not afford to be distracted. His hope was bottled up and shoved even deeper then most other emotions, too dangerous to be allowed to resurface. He shook his head, slipped on his ANBU mask, and abandoned all thoughts of roots and flowers and soulmates.

He had a mission.

They probably weren't supposed to know about Soulmates. It wasn't information Danzo had given them, so they probably weren't supposed to know. The thought that thy knew anyway filled them with a cocktail of shame and giddiness, But it's not like they could unlearn it.

They had been on a mission, told to keep a perimeter and take guard position as their ROOT partner went to interrogate whoever Danzo sent them out to. Kinoe knew better then to question it. They leaned against a book stand, picked up a random book to look more at place, and started to actually read it when they had been waiting for hours. Patience was something they was still working on.

'Soulmates For Dummies!" The title proclaimed, catching Kinoe's interest, and it was all down hill from there. They tried not to appear distracted when their partner finished and they went back to ROOT HQ, and probably did well enough because no one questioned them, but they didn't sleep at all that night.

Soulmates. Almost everyone had one. It is someone who's soul matched your own, often with a matching or mirroring chakra signature to your own. The skin served as a canvas that connected two people, though words could not be shared through it for reasons unknown. It is said that, if done right, knowing, dating, or even just being around your soulmate would make you feel more complete. It was everything Kinoe secretly wanted but knew better then to wish for, because it would interfere with Danzo's plans. Nothing, especially not Kinoe's personal interest, was worth compromising that.

Still, they couldn't help drawing on their arm. They doodled lines and smiles and cute things, but never got a reply form their soulmate. They almost gave up. It was possible that they didn't have a soulmate, or their soulmate was dead. It was possible that they did something to offend their soulmate and now their soulmate hated them; they didn't know enough about the sensibilities of others, mainly tried to mimic behavior. Maybe there was some unspoken Soulmate-drawing etiquette they were breaking, and now their soulmate hated them?

The thought made them feel a little hollow, and they couldn't tell if it was worse to think the other was dead, didn't exist, or just hated them. In the end they kept drawing, clinging to a desperate hope that they'd get a response. It was all they really had. They illustrated things they liked. Mostly plant life in a satisfyingly ordered fashion that plant life so rarely inhibited.

Sometimes, though, they still drew cute things they saw, things that they hoped would make their soulmate smile or forgive them or respond. Things like that cute animal with claws and eyes that seemed to glow, fur sleek and tail in the air, white whiskers contrasting it's brown face. Things like-

"Cat." Kakashi said, deadpanned, in his dark apartment. His pack, huddled around and atop him, all snapped to attention at the word. Kakashi was staring at his arm with what looked like disinterest to most, but his pack could see the anger clearly in the slightest quirk of his eyebrow. "They drew a Cat. On my hand." He sighed, going for exasperated but ending up closer to fond.

Today, by some miracle, he was having one of his very rare almost-good days. He had eaten all three meals, taken a shower, brushed his teeth, even got nearly six hours of sleep last night. He was more then ready for a wonderful night in with the pack, watching his mesmerizing arm illustrate itself and snuggling up with the only constant good in his life.

Tonight was such an almost-good day, in fact, that he had even considered, for maybe the third time in however long it had been since he noticed (he was pretty bad at keeping track of time these days), responding to the doodles with one of his own. He had been about to talk himself out of the thought again, when he finally recognized what his soulmate was drawing. A cat. On his hand. For however long it took to wash off; he didn't know, he had never tried before.

Bull growled, and Kakashi nodded. This simply could not stand. It was not something Kakashi could just leave be. It demanded action, more then anything else ever had.

Kakashi mumbled an order, an ink-soaked brush was placed in his waiting hand, and Kakashi started on the glorious portrait of a dog that looked almost exactly like a stick-figure Bull eating the realistic rendition of the disgusting feline.

He could feel Pakkun laughing at him, but Bull huffed in approval, so Pakkun could shove his critisism-

'Oh.' Kakashi realized with a start, watching his soulmate go crazy, using his shitty dog as an outline and improving the picture, 'Oh shit. I actually just. Did That.' He groaned, rubbing a hand to his face, smudging the ink.

Pakkun did not stop laughing until Bull tackled him, because Bull was actually loyal to Kakashi. Unlike, say, Shiba, who had stolen the ink well and was now dabbing pawprints onto Kakashi's skin, or Bisuke, who had grabbed his brush brush with his mouths when Kakashi wasn't looking and was now scribbling up and down his arm like a toddler left with nothing but blank walls and markers.

After thinking on it, he really couldn't find the energy to freak out, or even unsummon his pack so they'd stop. Instead he decided it was a problem for later (or maybe never) as he laid his head on Akino, who had slept through the entire debacle, and fell asleep, ignoring the slight chill of ink as his mischievous and malicious pack took advantage of his exhaustion. Definitely a problem for later.

#kakayamaweek2019 #kakayama #kakashi hatake #ANBU #tenzo #yamato #dogs #ninken #soulmate au

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nexttrickanvils · 6 years

Text

Inked Souls

Written for Day 4 of Ryukita Week: AU

Characters: Ryuji Sakamoto, Yusuke Kitagawa, mentions of others

Notes: Soulmate AU where there are different types of soulmate markings/connections but in particular focusing on the idea of “Whatever your soulmate writes/draws on their skin appears on yours.”

---------

To be perfectly honest…

Ryuji had mixed feelings about soulmates.

Considering how his mother’s supposed soulmate constantly beat her and him… it was easy to be soured on the whole idea. Guess fate or destiny or whatever didn’t consider a lost job, anger issues, and a lot of booze a problem.

Lucky for ma that she had the kind of Soulmate Mark that was easy to hide (the first words he said to her were wrapped around her wrist like a tattoo.) Ryuji hoped that his would be just as easy to deal with or that he might be one of those who didn’t have a soulmate and thus no mark.

Unfortunately, it looked like the universe wasn’t done laughing at Ryuji Sakamoto. He was in his third year of middle school when he woke up one morning and found himself covered in colored splotches that didn’t wash off.

He remembers panicking and thinking he got some weird disease. Even though his mom assured him that he was fine, she was still willing to take him to the doctor. It was there that Ryuji was told that this was his Soulmate Mark.

Well not so much a mark as some kinda weird connection type of thing. Apparently if he put something like ink or paint on his skin, it would show up on his soulmate’s and vice versa.

So as far as he was aware of, his soulmate painted and they were apparently a slob.

Great.

This changed nothing. This was gonna be harder to hide and ignore than Ryuji expected but he still had no interest in this soulmate stuff.

---------

That lasted for about a month.

It’s not like he completely changed his mind or had some big revelation. He just got tired of constantly seeing paint splotches on himself. Ryuji grabbed the nearest marker and wrote on his arm.

“CLEAN YOURSELF UP!”

Ryuji was just annoyed and all the colors were distracting him from his homework… he wasn’t expecting a response.

“Who are you?”

He stared at the neat handwriting under his own sloppy writing. Are they serious? Ryuji remembers the doctor saying that this form of soul mark didn’t pop up often but most folks knew about it ‘cept Ryuji himself apparently .

So they should know who he is… unless they’re asking for his name? No way was Ryuji giving this paint covered weirdo his name. So he ignored it.

That is until more writing appeared on his arm.

“Did I do something to offend?”

Did they… really not know? Ryuji still didn’t feel comfortable giving this person his name but it wouldn’t hurt to respond right?

“I’m your soulmate, dummy. Now wash off the paint, I can’t do my homework with my arm looking like a rainbow.”

There wasn’t another response but it wasn’t long before the paint and writings came off. Ryuji quickly went to the bathroom to wash off his writing.

Months went by.

After their little “chat” Ryuji found himself getting curious about the person he was connected to. He still wasn’t ready to share everything (and for all he knew they were never gonna meet in person) but a message here and there wasn’t gonna hurt right?

It was mostly small little things like reminding them to wash off the paint or asking how their day was.

Sometimes there was a response and it was very formal (Ryuji wondered why destiny seemed to think he’d be good with someone who sounded like a grandpa) and sometimes there was no response.

Sometimes instead of paint splotches, there were doodles. Well maybe “doodles” wasn’t the right word. The pictures that would appear on Ryuji’s skin were elegant and full of detail. He didn’t know much about art but he knew pretty when he saw it.

Which was more than he could say for the dragon he decided to draw one day. He’s not entirely sure what he was thinking when he grabbed his usual marker and started drawing on his arm.

It was… it was bad. The thing looked like it had googly eyes, there were weird random spikes, he’s not entirely sure what happened with the claws, and so many other problems.

Ryuji couldn’t help but find an ink free spot on his arm and wrote: “Sorry this sucks.”

After a couple minutes with no response, Ryuji scrubbed off the drawing and message. But as he finished, new dark lines started to appear. He sat down and watched as the lines twisted and turned and connected.

Before long, they started to take shape and Ryuji’s eyes widened as he realized it was a dragon. But not just any dragon: his dragon. He recognized the random spikes though here they came off a lot more natural.

When it was finished, Ryuji was amazed. It looked awesome, he could almost see it as a badass tattoo. He almost didn’t notice the writing appearing on his other arm.

“Even though you felt disappointed with it, I rather enjoyed your art. I thank you for sharing it with me and hope you do not mind my own take on it.”

Ryuji read the message over and over… maybe… maybe having a soulmate wouldn’t be so bad… maybe they could make it work.

But after that… the messages and art came less and less. One day he was watching a drawing on his arm but then it stopped and the ink or paint or whatever they used became smeared until it was washed off. The drawings stopped after that.

Then came Ryuji’s first year at Shujin, Kamoshida, and the worst day of Ryuji’s life.

He thought of “talking” to his soulmate as he recovered in the hospital. But no. Besides, they hadn’t “talked” to him in a while, maybe they realized what a screw up he was. He certainly wouldn’t have blamed them.

---------

By the time his second year started, Ryuji pushed any thoughts about his soulmate out of his head. He had more important things to deal with.

Like meeting Akira, stumbling into the Metaverse, finding MonaMona the weird cat thing, and everything else.

With all of that going on; the only time Ryuji thought of his soulmate was when he, Akira, and Ann compared their “marks” during the group’s victory celebration. He couldn’t help but wonder how they were doing and if they were okay.

He didn’t expect that he’d get an answer very soon.

---------

Ryuji glared at the blue haired boy standing in front of Ann. She did not need this shit, especially so soon after dealing with Kamoshida.

“You’re the woman I’ve been searching for all this time! Please won’t you-”

“Wait a minute, I-”

“-Be the model for my next art piece!?”

The other boy dramatically raised his arm and that was when Ryuji noticed something. Peeking out from his sleeve was writing on his wrist. It was hard to see all of what was written but it looked familiar. Then Ryuji caught a mention of rice and miso and he suddenly remembered the shopping reminder he wrote on his own wrist this morning.

No way… there was no way… but it made sense… this guy was apparently an artist and there was the way he talked…

So what was the right way to say “Hey I know you’re obsessing over my friend right now but I think we might be soulmates?”

Obviously not that.

Before Ryuji could think of anything else, the other boy (he said his name was Yusuke right?) gave Ann tickets to an art show and went back into the black car with the old man.

Ain’t that just Ryuji’s typical luck? He finds his soulmate and they’re more interested in one of his friends. No… Ryuji wasn’t jealous. He’s just… just…

---------

The following days were not easy. Ryuji found himself having those old angry feelings about the idea of soulmates. Yusuke didn’t seem so bad when they wrote and doodled on each others’ arms… but on the other hand, “Dear Ol’ Dad” didn’t start out a constantly drunk piece of shit.

But on the other other hand, Ryuji couldn’t help but see a bit of himself and his mom in Yusuke. Making excuses for Madarame; assuring people that everything was perfectly fine and there was no abuse here, no siree.

Late one night, Ryuji grabbed a pen (the marker he usually used had long since dried up and been thrown away) and wrote on his arm.

“You don’t have to hide. You can trust me.”

Ryuji looked the message and scratched out the “me” and replaced it with “us.”

There was no response before Ryuji had to wash off the message.

---------

A couple days later, the team launched their plan to change Madarame’s cognition and get that big ass door open in the palace.

Ryuji isn’t sure how long it took and he couldn’t help but worry about Ann (and yeah sure Mona too) but the door did open and he and Akira were able to shut off the security shit. Now all they had to do was wait for Ann and Mon…

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

He and Akira looked up and were greeted with the sight of Ann, Mona, and... YUSUKE!?

Okay Yusuke was here… wasn’t the first time they had someone with no persona powers along for the ride. They just gotta get out. They can deal with this…

Then Madarame’s Shadow showed up.

Everything went by so quickly. Madarame’s taunting, Yusuke realizing everything he knew was a lie, his awakening, the fight, and the five of them sitting down and talking.

As Yusuke talked about how he ignored the truth because Madarame was like a father to him, Ryuji… couldn’t help but feel that maybe Destiny or the Universe or whatever was actually onto something here.

But he still didn’t feel comfortable telling Yusuke. They’d only just now started to get along after all, it would be too much.

So for now, Yusuke, or rather, Fox just was the newest member of the Phantom Thieves.

---------

Yusuke was… weird. There were times where he’d get super emotional about something that wasn’t a big deal and the reverse where he’d take weird shit in stride (his lack of a reaction to Mona talking comes to mind.)

But… at the same time… maybe it’s because Ryuji’s seen so much bitterness in his life but there was something to the joy and excitement Yusuke showed when he was interested in something.

Sure he had like NO filter but considering what they’ve all seen of Madarame both in the real world and the Metaverse; Ryuji doesn’t blame Yusuke for not really knowing how to talk to people.

Yusuke was weird yeah but… Ryuji still wanted to know him better.

---------

It took about a week (Ryuji never wanted to see the Sayuri painting ever again) but the group finally reached the treasure and all that was left was getting the Calling Card ready.

Ryuji volunteered to write it again and have Yusuke punch it up a bit. The two decided on work on it in the diner. Maybe not the best idea to do it in public but they went to different schools, definitely couldn’t do it at the shack, and even though ma would be at work tonight, it would feel awkward to bring Yusuke to his apartment. So this was the best option (plus it got Yusuke fed.)

It took them about an hour and half between Yusuke drawing a new logo (“Yours is… done well enough though perhaps not suited for our purposes”,) the two figuring out what to write (“When I did the one for Kamoshida, I called him the “Utter Bastard of Lust.”” “Hm… if we continue the theme of the Seven Deadly Sins, I feel Madarame would be more “a sinner of vanity””,) and actually getting something to eat.

Ryuji was pretty damn proud of what they made.

But… there was still one more thing he needed to do…

After fighting side by side with the guy, Ryuji figured that he can trust him.

“Hey Yusuke...”

“Hm?”

Come on Ryuji. Now or never. How’d that phrase go? Don’t think, feel.

“There’s something ya need to see.”

Ryuji shrugged off his school jacket and pulled out a new marker from his pant pocket.

“Ryuji what are you...”

Before Yusuke could finish asking or before Ryuji decided to change his mind, he started to draw on his arm. It had been a long while and it ain’t like his art skills actually improved but he had a decent memory, hopefully Yusuke’s is a lot better.

Yusuke watched as Ryuji continued his drawing (he couldn’t help but wonder if he watched with the same intensity the first time.) Before long, Ryuji started to add in the details and that was when he noticed Yusuke’s eyes widen. The blue haired artist quickly pushing his sleeve up.

Just as expected, the dragon was on his arm and the details appeared as Ryuji continued.

Honestly Ryuji could stop right there but he felt that he needed to finish. The two sat in silence until Ryuji finally capped the marker and looked at Yusuke.

“...How long had you known that we were connected…?”

“Since we first met. I saw my handwriting on your wrist when you were being all dramatic and swinging your arm around. You didn’t really… I mean… I guess it didn’t really feel like the right time ya know?”

“I will admit that my behavior toward you all in the beginning was less than acceptable. Nevertheless...”

Yusuke smiles as he traces the copy of the dragon drawing on his arm.

“...I rather missed this...”

“Yeah… me too… Maybe… maybe after we change Madarame’s heart...”

Ryuji took a deep breath as his face turned red.

“M-maybe we could uh… just… hang out, get to know each other better. Ya know, do something other than writing and doodling on our arms.”

“...I would like that.”

#Persona 5 #Ryukitaweek2019 #Ryukita #Yusuke Kitagawa #Ryuji Sakamoto #Anvil Writings

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amicweald · 6 years

Photo

Poems for strangers - Luke Hemmings

The tranquillity flowing around your head followed the lines you’d draw on your notebook smoothly, composing the silhouette of a posing man. Your stained hand would leave accidental charcoal spots as you slid the pencil over his body, shading the figure imperfectly offering a perfect purpose to it. I broke down your mountains, but never you I didn’t walk 13 thousand miles, but I would have walk 100 And to climb a mountain might have been fun, but your curves will always be my favourites The ghost of the melody danced between your ears as if a guitar was chasing after the words. A bass was added, trembling with your heart and then, came the drums as footsteps coming closer. As stomps grew closer, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. The lyrics fell down your back fading as you opened your eyes up to the new voice entering your headspace. “Hey!” he smiled stepping back, fearing the answer “Hi, uhm…I’m Luke.” The blonde haired boy stretched out his hand towards you and you friendly took it shaking it “Hi, there” you smiled confused, you not very used to random people introducing themselves. You were resting on the immensity of red cinema chairs, that the small venue, where you worked, had. Alone and happily enjoying your lunchtime sketching and humming bodies and lyrics, away from the burning hell that summer had to fill the streets with. “Ahm, you know, actually” he began, pushing the cushioned seat down to sit next to you “I’m part of this band, 5 Seconds of Summer, and I don’t know if you know us but we’re playing here at-” “I know.” you interrupted him unintentionally, making him stop with his arm up still point at the stage, where the band would play that night. “What? Wait, you listen to us?” his smile grew bigger as the guilt in your chest increased just as fast. You scratch the back of your neck, avoiding his blue eyes “Well, no… I just happen to work here” you smiled hoping he wouldn’t eat you out of anger “I know every artist who comes up in this stage, It’s kind of what I do” you laugh uncomfortably. He was so pretty, maybe if you’d have lied he would’ve kept smiling. Idiot. “Oh, you work here…” he sank a little into his chair and before he could speak you continue to try to make him feel better “I work here as a summer job, yeah. Sometimes I help with lights or sound, scenarios, but the thing that I’m known for is the calendar, I basically remind everyone of what’s happening” you laughed, and he smiled back sympathetically “I don’t really have time to listen to music outside these stages” He laughed loudly, as a sense of relief rushed through your body “Well, that’s a bummer, there’s a lot of amazing artists and albums out there nowadays” “I bet, but trust me, the only music I get to hear throughout the year is the same old boring ones my teachers insists on making me dance to.” your hands joined on your knees, tugging your notebook closer to you. He was such a taller presence next to you. You felt his strong cologne hugging your body making it impossible to forget, his pierced smile made momentarily your heart race and you felt your face grow warmer when you notice his dimples. “You dance in class? I don’t remember that being a thing back when I was your age” he joked. “I’m majoring in dancing, dumb head.” he hummed at you with a smile “‘Back when you were my age’ was like a week ago. You’re like what? 19?” “Close. I’m 20” his hand grabbed his chin, joking a seductive look “Guess I still keep my looks, huh?” you laugh hiding your face behind your hands “And you? How old are you?” “A strong 18 and a half years old, sir” you announced proudly. “So, does this 18 and a half ballerina have a name?” “I didn’t introduce my self, did I?” your cheeks burnt pink just as your bottom lip did, while Luke shook his head amused in the background “I’m Y/n, sorry” “You really don’t look like a dancer, Y/n” he bit his bottom lip next to his black piercing. Something tickled inside your belly before you replied “What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t have the ballet girl body?” His dimples deepened watching you smile “No, no. You’re perfectly fine. I just thought of you more like a musician.” You’re perfectly fine. “A musician?” you laughed. “That was actually the reason why I came to talk to you.” you watch his lips carefully following his hand movements as the voice that was meant to haunt your memory spoke “Me and my band are doing some gigs here and there but we’re trying to build a new album and we’re just looking for inspiration and different points of view of the world, you know. I was going to ask you if you write poems or even music.” the chant of his voice almost distracted you from the question, the one you blushed at, trying not to give away that in your hands were the pages that you filled with melodies, verses and doodles. “Well, I guess sometimes I do.” “Do ever shared them with anyone?” “Rarely, only when I think it’s decent enough” “What do you think of writing a poem or show me one of yours and I’ll arrange a song with it?” his blue eyes pierced your shiny ones to reach your soul, it was hard to deny such offer, but most importantly to deny such a man. “Really? Like you guys would sing and play it?” “Yeah, of course. That’s like the whole point of this album” his smile came up again. His black painted nails drummed against the armrest of the chair, his forearm led up to his bicep hugged tightly by the sleeve of his shirt. His collarbones poked out off out of the shirt’s collar and you felt yourself lost in burning cheeks again. He was beautiful. “That would be awesome” you smiled for the 100th time to him “I actually keep the poems I wrote in here” you looked down at the book in your hand, leading his eyes to it. Looking at it you felt embarrassed by the messiness of notebook: it was stained in its sides, had papers of different sizes folded in it and it was ridiculously fat “I need to get a new one”. “And you write 'sometimes’ you say?” he looked surprised at the notebook, resisting the temptation of open it immediately and read the creativity of the girl in front of him. “Well sometimes in a day, I guess.” you shyly replied. “I knew you wrote poems, you just have that vibe.” he laughed. You opened up the notebook you’ve never shown to anyone. All the thoughts that fill your mind orderer into rhyming sentences were overflowing that book. “I strangely trust you, Luke” you slowly search through the pages, looking for a poem that you were mildly proud of until you reached one about yourself and your journey as to accept you as you were. You apprehensively look at his royal eyes and something weird felt down your body. A sense of safeness excessed from his iris and his endearing smile felt like you were being held warmly behind your back. You hand him over the poem and you breathe deeply while he blandly mouthed your handwriting. After a minute he breath out the last words, startling you a bit “’I am worth it, I’ve always been’…” he took a moment to sink in your words and you sank in your chair out of embarressement “You know, it’s not that well written and maybe has a poor concept, I-” “This is beautiful, Y/n” he looked back into the mirrors and flowers doodle around the poem, completely aroused. You didn’t notice but your heart was pounding against your chest and didn’t know how to make it stop. You were out of words to say, you were not expecting a compliment, it also didn’t help the pulsation of your heart. You looked down at your now empty and vulnerable hands and the only thing you could think of came out in a whisper “It’s really personal.” Some long seconds went by until his sight left the poem noticing you and your flustered mess again. “Hey” his hand touched gently your shoulder unfocusing your thoughts “I’m a writer too, ok? You don’t need to be scared or embarrassed of what you feel. I do this all the time.” he pointed “It feels like I’m giving all of me to art but sometimes you just need it. You just need to get it out, for someone to listen. This is truly…” he didn’t finish and instead squeeze your arm looking at your soft smile. His eyes burnt your skin and you hid yourself behind your hands, leaning onto the armrest separating you both “I’m such a derp” you said. You heard him chuckled above you. But apart from the melody of his giggle playing in your brain, it was his arms around you that made you freeze in your place. His hands were hugging your back making your skin tickle and burn at the touch through your sweatshirt, your heart skipped a beat and you could hear it relaxing and slowing down again from the euphoric moment. Before he let go your arms travelled to his waist resting on his arms and almost magically, both of you pulled tighter in the hug at the same time, as a puff of his perfume filled your lungs. Here you were hugging a complete stranger, a stranger that had just read something you wouldn’t give to anyone and a stranger who made you feel better than any of your previous boyfriends did. His hand dived into your hair, brushed through it and as he slowly pulled off placed his hand on your cheek. Your head slid off his neck, but he didn’t push away. “Thank you for letting me read that poem. It’s beautifully written.” he whispered. You were inches apart, your noses almost touched and you could smell the mint toothpaste in his breath. Your eyes were stuck on his comforting voice and pink lips, just as his were on yours. But reality hit Luke softly and he looked down at the opened book on the armrest, as he leaned back your hand placed his biceps fell but he gently caught it holding it around his fingertips. You felt drugged, everything besides from you two was blurry, something stronger than anything you’ve remembered pushed you to him and you couldn’t see any disadvantages in that. With his other hand, he closed the notebook and it seemed like his voice hadn’t gotten deeper and sore, but still gentle "Will I see you tonight?” he asked rubbing his thumbs on your palm, the butterflies were ranging inside. “I wouldn’t miss it.” you looked up to him, forcing him to look back. Suddenly everything was crystal blue, but everything you could focus on was the trembling ocean that the blue would escape to show. His eyebrows furrowed as if he was in pain, as if he didn’t want to feel this way, as if he didn’t want to be this vulnerable again. He led your hand close to his mouth placing a long kiss on it, shivers electrocuted your whole arm. He let your hand fall on your notebook and stood up. You wanted to say something, something that would make him stay, but you couldn’t find a poem to ask and you couldn’t find a melody to sing. “Until then, beautiful.” he left with a smile, which only made you retribute it with another. As he walked out of the room, you looked back to the hand he just kissed. Your heart deeply pounded in your chest, the butterflies fond their way out and they were humming around your head, the lights on the stage seemed brighter and your body lighter. Did I just fell in love with a stranger? But he was no stranger, in your heart, you’ve known him for years.

______

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wiredeception · 7 years

Text

1OO IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS

PART 1: THE BASICS

WHAT IS THEIR FULL NAME?

greyson dominic northwood.

WHERE AND WHEN WERE THEY BORN?

greyson was born in harlem, new york city on august 29th, 1992.

WHO ARE/WERE THEIR PARENTS? — names, occupations, personalities and other important details.

greyson is narissa knowles and vince northwood’s second born. narissa gabrielle knowles was born on november 22nd, 1967 in houston, texas to christopher and lenora knowles. she’s the third of four children and the second of two girls. growing up in a working class family wasn’t easy and for narissa it translated in having to give some of her dreams away in order to help the remaining family survive. with the death of christopher and her older brother, brandon, when she was roughly eighteen, and after her sister imani’s marriage a few months down the line, narissa chose to leave houston in search for a better life and more opportunities. fast-forward a few years, the woman had a stable life in harlem, new york, and while she never got to follow her dreams to the extent she wishes she had, she still got to do something she loved for a living. personality wise, narissa is one of the most kind-hearted souls anyone would get the chance to meet. she’s serious and strict when times call for it, and she doesn’t play any games when it regards important matters but, simultaneously, she’s also a sweet, funny woman who loves a good joke. she’s a charming woman who knows how to get her way around and knows what strings to pull in order to get what she wants but, above everything else, she’s a loving mother of five ( that is by far her biggest accomplishment ) and she always has a kind word to say when someone is in need of comfort. nowadays, she’s the owner of a skincare and cosmetology clinic, and she does some occasional work as a beautician. vince josiah northwood was born on march 3rd, 1966 in atlanta, georgia to josiah and destiny northwood, and he is the first born of two children. vince has no recollections of his mother for the woman divorced his father and left the family when his brother jeremiah was born, which meant vince was only two-years-old. growing up wasn’t easy, especially without a constant mother figure around the house, and often times vince was left to fend for himself and jeremiah. with a promise of a better life, he moved in with his grandparents when he was sixteen and from then on, he started working to support himself and his brother. when he turned eighteen, he moved from minnesota to new york city where he did a bunch of jobs before finding one that would pay enough for him to survive in a city as expensive as new york. he met narissa when he was twenty and from then on, he knew she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. they never married but, to this day, he still calls the woman his wife. personality wise, vince is a jokester, a guy who loves life and enjoys to have a good laugh. it’s hard to catch him on a bad mood and he always seems to have a smile etched to his features, and when it comes to advice, there’s really no one better than the man to go to. he owns a couple bars throughout new york city and, to this day, he still works as a bartender on the first bar he bought in harlem.

DO THEY HAVE SIBLINGS? WHAT ARE/WERE THEY LIKE?

greyson has four siblings - three sisters and one brother. naomi lenora northwood was born on october 6th, 1989 and she’s the eldest of the northwood’s children. she’s a neurosurgeon at UCLA medical center and she’s the golden girl of the family. naomi is the first ever, out of the knowles and northwood’s to go to college and if that, by itself, wasn’t an accomplishment, she graduated with honors from yale university school of medicine. greyson was always close to his sister, perhaps because naomi always did her best to look after him, or perhaps because they just seem to get each other on a level no one else can. naomi is an intelligent, passion-driven woman who takes after her mother and is one of the most kind-hearted people one could ever meet. gianna makayla northwood was born on june 18th, 1994 and she’s the third born of the northwood’s. gianna is a hurricane of a woman, never settling for anything less than what she knows she deserves and, perhaps, that’s what leads her to be away from home more often than not. she currently resides in rome, after having finished her BA in fashion communication: communication and promotion at central saint martins, where she works at fendi. despite not seeing one another as often, gigi and grey have a really close relationship and there’s little they wouldn’t do for each other. gianna is a strong-willed, hard-working girl who, much like her dad, is hard to catch in a bad mood and, much like her mother, is incredibly compassionate and sweet. neah gabrielle northwood was born on february 26th, 1998 and she’s the fourth born of the northwood’s and the youngest of the northwood girls. with an unique personality and crazy ideas to spare, neah is unlike any of her siblings. she’s unpredictable in all kinds of ways, always doing things following her standards and expectations rather than the other’s. she’s a street-smart kind of girl, cultured enough to make you question just how much she knows about the different kinds of topics, and she’s, to put it simply, a healthy kind of crazy. she thinks outside the box and never conforms for what others establish. because she can be as reckless and as straight-forward as grey, their personalities tend to clash but for the most part, they get along just fine. neah resides in los angeles where she does occasional work at a museum while studying at UCLA school of theatre, film and television to become an actress. jason malik northwood was born on may 22nd, 2004 and he’s the youngest of the northwood’’s. jace is a kid who gets easily caught up on his hopes and dreams. he’s at that point where he feels like he can do whatever he wants without needing school to back him up or, in other words, he’s at a phase where he thinks he can just drop out and follow grey’s footsteps. he’s a sweet kid and besides resembling his father appearance wise, he also resembles the man when it comes to his personality : always smiling, always ready to help, always ready to burst out a joke and have a laugh. he’s still trying to figure it out for himself but he’s a good kid.

WHERE DO THEY LIVE NOW, AND WITH WHOM?

greyson is on the go more often than not, and due to his career, sometimes, it’s hard to say exactly where he lives but, when he’s not on tour or traveling for whatever reason, he resides in new york. if he’s working and going to the studio, he stays at his duplex in soho but if he doesn’t have to be in the city, he stays at his house in quogue. if you ask him, where he lives, he’ll often refer to those two places. atop of that, he owns a place in west hollywood, los angeles where he stays when he’s working in los angeles and he owns a house in st. james, barbados, too. he lives with his wife, leticia.

WHAT IS THEIR OCCUPATION?

greyson is a high-profile recording artist. he’s a r&b/urban/hip hop singer and producer.

TO WHICH SOCIAL CLASS DO THEY BELONG?

growing up he belonged to middle, working class and his financial status was not the best. it was moderate borderline stable but it could be better. nowadays, he belongs to upper class and he’s very wealthy.

DO THEY HAVE ANY ALLERGIES, DISEASES OR OTHER PHYSICAL WEAKNESSES?

he’s allergic to apples and dust mite, and he’s lactose intolerant. other than that, he has no physical or mental illnesses.

ARE THEY RIGHT- OR LEFT-HANDED?

grey is right-handed.

WHAT DOES THEIR VOICE SOUND LIKE?

he has a deep, gruff voice — ref.

WHAT WORDS AND/OR PHRASES DO THEY USE VERY FREQUENTLY?

he says “ facts ” a lot, same goes for “ nah ” amongst a few other catch phrases/words that are typical of someone who resides in new york.

WHAT DO THEY HAVE IN THEIR POCKETS?

usually, he has his keys, his wallet and his phone on his pockets.

DO THEY HAVE ANY QUIRKS, STRANGE MANNERISMS, ANNOYING HABITS OR OTHER DEFINING CHARACTERISTICS?

much like every human being, greyson has quirks and habits, some annoying, others more common. for one, when he’s in a situation that demands deep thought or, occasionally, if he’s impatient, he taps his fingers against a surface, creating what can be considered an annoying noise for some people. in the same line of thought, due to his career and absolute love for music, when he gets distracted, greyson often hums whatever tune is stuck on his mind then or, absentmindedly, sings bits and parts of a song he enjoys. when he’s in a situation that drives him anxious, nervous or scared, you’ll find him pacing around the room for his unable to stay still. likewise, if he’s nervous, he has the tendency of chewing on his lesser lip and nipping the inside of his cheeks. in a fight / argument, when he can’t equate how the other person believes they’re right, he tends to repeat the last of their words and, often times, bitterly laugh which kind of rubs off as condescending when in reality he’s just angered by what they said. if you leave a random piece of paper around and he happens to have a pen/pencil nearby, you can rest assured that he’ll doodle out your whole paper. he eats skittles and m&m’s by color and will, one hundred percent, freak and stress out if someone does something to disrupt that. when he gets an idea or thinks of some lyrics, he writes in code so no one else can decipher what he has written down. on that note, if he goes to a meeting or doing something work related, he carries a notebook with him. unless it’s a formal e-mail or document, grey will not use capital letters... he doesn’t know why but they annoy the hell out of him and that’s why, unless autocorrect strikes, he types everything in lowercase. when crossing the road, he always looks left-right-left instead of right-left-right like most americans - this is a result of having lived in london for a year. when taking notes of something he, often, reads the first line left to right ( as everyone else does ) but then writes the second line right to left aka backwards, creating a zig zag pattern. that also means he can read backwards or, otherwise called, mirrored-writing the same way he can read normal writing.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION INCLUDING HEIGHT, WEIGHT, NATIONALITY, ETHNICITY, HAIR AND EYE COLOR, CLOTHING STYLE, ANY TATTOOS, SCARS OR OTHER DISTINGUISH MARKS.

grey is 6′3″ ( 192cm ) and his weight oscillates between 178lbs and 188lbs ( 81kg - 85kg ). he was born in harlem, new york city meaning his nationality is american and his ethnicity is afro-barbadian and afro-american. he has raven black hair which he either styles into a braided ponytail or two cornrows, and his eyes are a dark shade of brown. grey’s clothing style varies a lot - he doesn’t follow trends, he wears what he’s comfortable with and what he likes. his wardrobe include a lot of jackets and coats, from patch-work to custom made, denim to leather, longer coats to bomber jackets and the likes, as well as a lot of vintage and band tees, and hoodies. he likes needles’ track pants but he also likes black skinny jeans and your regular vintage blue jeans. he sticks to jordans, vans and adidas for the shoes, and occasionally he’ll wear designer boots or gucci sneakers. his style is chameleonic and his outfits, silhouettes and, even, colorways change and develop at a maddening fast pace. he has a scar on his left cheek and a birthmark inside of his left wrist, other than those there’s your occasional mole or freckle scattered through his body. he does have some tattoos ; he has ALT tattooed behind his ear which is the name of his first EP, the one that catapulted his career, and he has the word YLOHNU ( unholy backwards ) tattooed on the outer side of his left wrist. on the inside of his left arm, positioned where it’d be considered the inside of the elbow, he has LONDON and NEW YORK in uppercase, forming an upper arch, and forming a lower arch, he has TOKYO and LOS ANGELES also in uppercase - the four main cities that helped with him get where he is today. along his right hipbone, he has off the maps no hidden grids, i’m fleeing which was taken out of one of his songs from his latest album and is one of his favorite lyrics he ever wrote/sung. he has a blacklight tattoo saying i solemnly swear that i’m up to no good along with some footsteps on the inside of his right wrist. in white ink, and below his left pectoral, he has neah’s heartbeat and on his left ankle he has a small compass tattoo pointing north. on the side of his index finger from his right hand, he has a small rose ( his mother’s favorite flower ) and on the inside of his left wrist, he has VENI. VIDI. VICI. tattooed in uppercase. on his ring finger, he has the coordinates to where he and leticia got married tattooed in bold font. on very small scale/font, he has the quote i can be changed by what happens to me but i refuse to be reduced by it split in three parts on the right side of his ribcage.

PART 2: GROWING UP

HOW WOULD THEY DESCRIBE THEIR CHILDHOOD IN GENERAL?

greyson didn’t grow up with the most money or getting everything he wanted with a snap of his fingers but he grew up with one thing that, for him, is the most important : parents who were always there, no matter what. narissa and vince always worked their heads off to provide to their children and give them a stable life, but they were always present parents. they were there for every single one of naomi’s school plays, they were there when grey had his baseball games and, most importantly, they were always there with a kind word and good advice, to support in everything they did, every step of the way. so he would describe his childhood as a really good one, despite everything, because it helped him build the personality and taught him the values and morals he has today.

WHAT IS THEIR EARLIEST MEMORY?

a family holiday when he was around three years old, neah and jason weren’t born, obviously, so it was just his parents and his two sisters. gianna barely knew how to walk and naomi had been begging their parents over and over again to switch the warm, nice beaches for a colder holiday destination so vince and narissa took them to alaska. it was the first time grey saw northern lights and the first time he experienced such a different environment from what he knew as a toddler who was born in new york. ever since then, alaska has always held a special place in his heart and to this day, he’s in awe with that place.

HOW MUCH SCHOOLING HAVE THEY HAD?

greyson completed and graduated from high school.

DID THEY ENJOY SCHOOL?

no, he never did. going to classes made him feel like he was wasting his time because no one within that building believed he was capable of making something out of himself and doing what he wanted. greyson always dreamt too big compared to other children and in his school that wasn’t seen with good eyes, especially because his love for arts and music, in specific, often meant he disregarded the “ important ” subjects they had at school. it didn’t help that his friends didn’t attend to the same school he did so it was altogether a space that grey despised.

WHERE DID THEY LEARN MOST OF THEIR SKILLS AND OTHER ABILITIES?

literacy wise, he has to, in part anyway, thank school for it. but most of his artistic skills and technical skills were self-taught or he learned through someone in the hood who spent their days creating new stuff. grey is naturally a very artsy and creative person so it’s always been easy for him to learn and develop his skills. he’s also a very curious, hands-on person so he’s always asked a lot of questions and sought after more info that he was interested on. his communication skills have always been on point since a kid and perhaps due to the environment he grew up in, he has always been at ease when it regards meeting new people and being sociable - he’s an extrovert. what he couldn’t learn from the “ streets ”, he tried to look for in books - and his interest in those comes one hundred percent from his sister naomi who always pushed and nudged so he read more in order to develop his already curious, imaginative mind. altogether, he’s an autodidact and a street smart kind of guy rather than your intellectual person, and that’s where he got his skills and abilities from.

WHILE GROWING UP, DID THEY HAVE ANY ROLE MODELS?

his parents and naomi have always been role models and people he looked up to. artistically, he looked up to prince, michael jackson, pharrell williams, tupac, dr. dre, biggie and the likes. they all worked as inspiration for him to pursue his dreams and never let anyone’s doubts keep him from pushing through and go after what he wanted.

AS A CHILD, WHAT DID THEY WANT TO BE WHEN THEY GREW UP?

grey has always been sure he would become an artist and be affiliated with the music industry. even as a child, there was nothing he wanted more than to become a successful recording artist and possibly work within other “fields” of the music industry such as production.

AS A CHILD, WHAT WERE THEIR FAVORITE ACTIVITIES?

playing basketball outside was one of them, for sure. he loved playing baseball and he was fairly good at it too which was why his parents had him playing on a local baseball team for kids. other than that, you could catch grey rapping around with older kids or doing some graffiti on some abandoned house’s walls. he loved reading and even as a kid, he loved writing, be it songs or poems or loose text. he preferred to be outside than in the house, whether it meant being with a large group of people, messing around, or by himself, creating some beats or doodling something on a notebook.

AS A CHILD, WHAT KINDS OF PERSONALITY TRAITS DID THEY DISPLAY?

grey was a curious child who was clearly far ahead of the other kids on an artistic level. he was artsy and creative, always very ambitious rather than a dreamer as most would describe him, and he was always very sure of himself without being arrogant or cocky. he had a healthy amount of confidence. as a child, he always had a smile on and he was rather funny and friendly, always very sociable and kind. stubborn as hell and borderline arrogant if someone got on his nerves, but for the most part, he was always very charming and very amiable.

AS A CHILD, WERE THEY POPULAR? WHO WERE THEIR FRIENDS, AND WHAT WERE THEY LIKE? WHEN AND WITH WHOM WAS THEIR FIRST KISS?

unlike most kids, he never cared for popularity or school status quo. he just wanted to do himself and be happy with it, whether it meant having a dozen of people poking fun of his interesting choice of a wardrobe or having another dozen following him around because of his ‘i give no fucks’ attitude. he’s always been genuine, he’s always been himself and that’s far more important to him than any other label. labels are for clothes, not for human beings, as he tends to say even these days. in consequence to being rather different, grey didn’t have that many friends at school - he had acquaintances and classmates but his real friends attended other schools. he always got along with people who were slightly older than him and he always favored people with strong personalities who pushed and tugged and helped him grow. he preferred people who would have a differing opinion and fight for it than someone who would agree with everything he said, and he preferred those who were considered a healthy kind of crazy and who dreamed too high, than those who settled for nothing. he was seven when he had his first kiss but seeing as it was some childs play, grey considers his first actual kiss to have happened when he was twelve and it was with one of naomi’s best friend’s, kerry who later moved away with her parents to ohio.

WHEN AND WITH THOM DID THEY LOST THEIR VIRGINITY?

he lost his virginity when he was around fifteen to his girlfriend from then.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

WHAT DO THEY CONSIDER THE MOST IMPORTANT EVENT OF THEIR LIFE SO FAR?

on a professional level, it was definitely getting his record deal but on a personal, and more in-depth/extending to his overall life, level, it was getting married to leticia.

WHO HAS HAD THE MOST INFLUENCE ON THEM?

if we’re talking on an overall level, it’s definitely his mother, his sister naomi, leticia, jordan and olivia. if we’re talking on a professional level, it’s his manager ella, jordan and nadia.

WHAT DO THEY CONSIDER THEIR GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT?

his career, where he stands... getting to do what he does and getting that much recognition for it is an achievement altogether.

WHAT IS THEIR GREATEST REGRET?

there are a few... on a professional level, it’s the fact he allowed his label and primary team to influence him and change his vision, therefore resulting in a mainstream album he’s not half as happy about nowadays. on a personal level, it’s how he wasn’t there for neah when she needed him and couldn’t see the underlying issues she was battling with back in the day and, still on a personal level, having told letty and allow her to think that the first time they slept together meant nothing to him because he only saw her as a friend when in reality, she already meant much more to him.

WHAT IS THE MOST EVIL THING THEY HAVE EVER DONE?

grey isn’t really a person who would resort to evil plans as a response to a problem he might have so there’s not particular evil thing he has ever done.

DO THEY HAVE A CRIMINAL RECORD OF ANY KIND?

his criminal record is clean.

WHAT WAS THE TIME THEY WERE MOST FRIGHTENED?

there were two times — the day he released his first song for he couldn’t be sure of how people would react and the first time he stepped on stage to perform.

WHAT WAS THE MOST EMBARRASSING THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO THEM?

it takes a lot for someone or something to embarrass grey so despite there being some interesting recollections, he’s not necessarily sure any of them qualify as a real embarrassing moment. there’s moment he now laughs about but that back then wasn’t really as funny and it was borderline embarrassing - during a live performance for one of those television shows, he can’t recall the name now, he was jumping around and somehow slipped and fell off stage. everyone was more worried about his sprained ankle and, possibly, broken foot than how embarrassing it was.

IF THEY COULD CHANGE ONE THING FROM THEIR PAST, WHAT WOULD IT BE AND WHY?

regardless of how things might have gone and how some mistakes have been made, grey believes changing something from his past would also affect the way his life is now, in the present, therefore he wouldn’t change a thing. he made his decisions, some bad and others not so bad, and they shaped him into who he is today.

WHAT IS THEIR BEST MEMORY?

right now, it’s hands down the day he got married to leticia.

WHAT IS THEIR WORST MEMORY?

december 22nd, 2015 — he was doing one of the shows from his debut tour when he received a call from his mother, full on sobbing, because neah had been hospitalized due to an oxycodone overdose.

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

ARE THEY OPTIMISTIC OR PESSIMISTIC?

grey is a realist - he’s optimistic when he feels and believes he can be without ever surpassing the limits or feeding into expectations and hopes he doesn’t believe will turn out to be true. he’s borderline pessimistic when he’s feeling down but he always sees clarity at the end of the day.

WHAT ARE THEIR GREATEST FEARS?

perhaps, losing himself. he hates the thought of losing his authenticity and how genuine he is along the way, the thought of his life changes impacting him in such way that he’d feel as though he has lost touch with his very own character.

WHAT ARE THEIR RELIGIOUS VIEWS?

despite growing up in a christian household, grey was never imposed any kind of religious views ( or any kind of views ) and with the years, he’s grown to be a person with faith and who does believe there is some sort of higher power, some kind of god, but he doesn’t limit it to one religion or one god. he doesn’t really believe there’s a right kind of religion or one that’s better than other. he’s agnostic but, despite it, he respects everyone’s own religious views and can lead a conversation on the topic without constantly knocking down each and every single point people with different perspectives than his make.

WHAT ARE THEIR POLITICAL VIEWS?

grey believes in a democratic world where everyone is equal and everyone has the same rights notwithstanding of race, gender, sexuality or religious views. he believes in a world that’s fair for everyone, with plans and ideas that will benefit everyone. that’s exactly why, these days he refrains from commenting or engaging in discussions about it because, in his eyes, there’s no one fighting for equality. especially not these days with how and where his country stands.

WHAT ARE THEIR VIEWS ON SEX?

he’s pro-sex. he’s had his fair share of hookups throughout his teen years and along the first years of his career, he’s had relationships purely based on the sexual benefits and he’s had a lengthy list of one offs and he has no issues whatsoever admitting to it. he’s also had serious, monogamous relationships and he’s obviously married now so he’s in one of those, and when establishing a comparison between no strings attached and sex in a relationship, grey can safely say the later is a whole different experience in a whole ‘nother level. sex is better with the person you’re in love with, the person who knows you better than anyone and with whom you share every other part of your life. when it regards the topic, and above everything else, grey believes sex should stop being a tabu-subject and start being something everyone openly talks about considering it’s not any kind of crime and there are no reasons whatsoever for it to ever be muffled and treated as tabu nowadays.

WOULD THEY BE ABLE TO KILL? UNDER WHAT CIRCUMSTANCE WOULD THEY FIND KILLING ACCEPTABLE OR UNACCEPTABLE?

they say we never know what we’re capable of unless we’re driven to the extreme so whereas the immediate answer would be no, under certain circumstances, such a death or life situation or if someone he loves was in danger, the answer turns to perhaps. however, the remaining answer stands - grey never finds killing acceptable. taking a human life, whether what they did was wrong or not, could never be deemed acceptable and it’s not up for another human being to play god and choose when to end someone else’s life. that being said, he believes there are better punishments and better solutions than death and yes, he is anti death penalti.

IN THEIR OPINION, WHAT IS THE MOST EVIL THING ANY HUMAN BEING COULD DO?

above everything, he finds there are so many condemning actions out there, so many evil, straight up wrong things human beings would do. he despises the thought of a person purposely inflicting pain in another (or another living being) be it by killing them, by being emotionally abusive or physically abusive, by raping or harassing them, by being judgmental or misogynistic or ableist or racist or xenophobic or homophobic or transphobic or the likes... for him that’s straight up evil, and he makes no distinction between what’s more or less evil — those are all awful.

DO THEY BELIEVE IN THE EXISTENCE OF SOUL MATES AND/OR TRUE LOVE?

he didn’t until a few good months ago, on soul mates anyway, but ever since his relationship with leticia blossomed into what it is today, he stopped being so skeptical and started believing soul mates do exist ; she’s his. he’s always believed in true love, in a great part due to his parents, and now due to his and letty’s own relationship.

WHAT DO THEY BELIEVE MAKES A SUCCESSFUL LIFE?

achieving your own dreams and goals, whether that’s becoming a world famous actress, a renown athlete or the best cleaning lady out there. grey believes success much like happiness comes from within, that it comes from following a path you trace for yourself and one you’re proud of. he believes doing what you love in life, maintaining good relationships and being at peace with yourself and in control of your life are what make a life successful.

HOW HONEST ARE THEY ABOUT THEIR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS?

one hundred percent. greyson isn’t one for hushed tones or keeping to himself. he’s outspoken and says what he thinks and feels, when he thinks it and feels it, with little worries of how that might rub across or how it might make him look like. if he doesn’t like someone, he’ll straight up tell them. if he thinks someone is wrong, he’ll express his opinion and it’s a lot like this for the remaining topics and things. he’s not blunt to the point of being hurtful though, he tries to think things through and articulate it in a way where it won’t entirely shatter someone, but he’s blunt enough not to bottle things up. partly, grey believes his honesty about every part of his life is what keeps him sane in a world full of lies.

DO THEY HAVE ANY BIASES OR PREJUDICES?

no, grey has felt biases and prejudice in his own skin so he’d never be able to nourish such awful, hurtful thoughts and ideas towards someone else. as he grew up into the man he is today, he’s always tried to intervene and help causes that help those who have, too, suffered from biases and prejudices and who do not have the same privilege some others do.

IS THERE ANYTHING THEY ABSOLUTELY REFUSE TO DO UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES? WHY DO THEY REFUSE TO DO IT?

to be anything other than genuine. he could engage in a dozen questionable schemes or be asked to do some crazy, illegal thing for a friend and he’d comply with it but he could never, under any circumstances, not be true to himself or be anything less than authentic.

WHO OR WHAT, IF ANYTHING, WOULD THEY GO TO EXTREMES FOR?

leticia, his parents and siblings, jordan and olivia.

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

IN GENERAL, HOW DO THEY TREAT OTHERS? DOES THEIR TREATMENT CHANGE DEPENDING ON HOW WELL THEY KNOW THEM, AND IF SO, HOW?

greyson was taught to treat everyone with respect until they give him a reason not to do so. there’s obviously a difference to how he treats strangers, whether they’re fans or not, to how he treats friends and family. he can be himself entirely around his family and friends, no matter how crazy or how weird he might get, he can open up to them and be grey, the normal guy. when he’s out, people treat him as northwood, the world wide known singer so he acts accordingly. he’s always polite with everyone though, and when it comes to fans, he does his best to be chill with them too.

WHO IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THEIR LIFE?

right now, it’s by far, leticia, his wife. she’s his world and his number one priority.

WHO IS THE PERSON THEY RESPECT THE MOST, AND WHY?

there are, at least, four people other than his parents that he respects a whole lot. olivia, for who she turned out to be against all odds and expectations, for never giving up her dreams and for being the person and the friend she is today. jordan, for all the rough patches thrown his way and how he handled them without ever being less authentic and without ever losing his drive to be better. ella, for being a total boss independently of all the people doubting her and everyone she found in the industry who put her down and lastly, and most importantly, leticia ; for everything she is, for the person she is and how she chooses to deal with everything thrown her way, for helping him become the person he is and always being there for him, for adjusting to his crazy schedules without complaints and for a million other reasons.

WHO ARE THEIR FRIENDS? DO THEY HAVE A BEST FRIEND?

grey is lucky to say he has a good amount of really, really good friends but his absolute best friends are jordan thompson and olivia laurent.

DO THEY HAVE A SPOUSE OR SIGNIFICANT OTHER?

he’s married to leticia evans northwood.

HAVE THEY EVER BEEN IN LOVE?

he has been in love several times, in different ways but on a romantic level, he has been in love three times - if the first time can be considered. he had a skinny love relationship when his career kicked off and high school ended, and back then he totally thought he was head over heels in love - experience and life have him thinking otherwise now. he has been in love in a later relationship but it was a love that was a weirdly balanced mixture, seeing as it was more platonic than anything else, and he’s in love now, with his wife, and it’s maybe the first time he’s feeling things so deeply and is finally realizing what it means to be in love with someone.

HOW CLOSE ARE THEY TO THEIR FAMILY?

really close ; the relationships vary between them, some with stronger bonds than others, but regardless, grey loves his family to death and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for them.

HAVE THEY STARTED THEIR OWN FAMILY? IF SO, DESCRIBE IT. IF NOT, DO THEY WANT TO?

if we’re talking full on family with kids and everything, no. if we’re talking family as in getting married, yes. regardless, grey wants kids in the future, he’s not sure when he’ll feel ready for it or when it will happen but he’s sure he wants to have children of his own and really get his own family with his wife.

WHO WOULD THEY TURN TO IF THEY WERE IN DESPERATE NEED OF HELP?

depending on the situation he needed help with, it really resumes to six people — vince, narissa, leticia, naomi, jordan and olivia.

DO THEY TRUST ANYONE TO PROTECT THEM? WHO AND WHY?

there are some people he trusts to protect him and his interests, in fact. his parents and his siblings will always protect him from any harm the best way possible, as would jordan and olivia. ella and nadia would always look out for his career and protect it at any costs, as would his remaining team. and then... then he’s one hundred percent sure, leticia will always have his back and will always protect him, no matter what happens.

IF THEY DIED OR WENT MISSING, WHO WOULD MISS THEM?

he knows for a fact his family would, his friends and second-family ( aka his team ) would and, perhaps, above anyone else, his wife would.

WHO IS THE PERSON THEY DESPISE THE MOST, AND WHY?

grey doesn’t really despise anyone, he has no time for that kind of negativity. he likes to keep a positive energy surrounding him so in his life there are people he loves and cherishes, and people who have crossed paths with him because they were meant to so he could learn something from them, and despite it having ended in an unfortunate way, he holds no grudges against them. they’re just indifferent.

DO THEY TEND TO ARGUE WITH PEOPLE, OR AVOID CONFLICT?

if there’s one thing that’s incredibly difficult to do, is triggering greyson and ticking off his mercurial temper. if something is wrong, he’s a very hands-on person and looks to solve the predicament by confronting the person or people in question and having a conversation ; he’s not one to avoid conflict and bottle things in, but he’s also not one to trigger an argument over the smallest of the things.

DO THEY TEND TO TAKE ON LEADERSHIP ROLES IN SOCIAL SITUATIONS?

sort of, it’s really a circumstance/occasion dependent question. in everything he does, however, greyson is more of a leader than a follower so it’s in his nature to lead a conversation and keep it flowing for one. the same way it’s in him to take the leadership role and quickly concoct a plan / solution for a situation should it be needed.

DO THEY LIKE INTERACTING WITH LARGE GROUPS OF PEOPLE? WHY OR WHY NOT?

on top of being a true extrovert, grey has always been a party animal and a social butterfly. he loves interacting with people, whether they’re new or they’ve known each other for years. he loves learning from them, hearing their stories and their struggles, hearing their battles and achievements, growing with them. in part, it’s what inspires his art and feeds his soul. so be it large groups of people or smaller ones, grey has no problems socializing and interacting with them.

DO THEY CARE WHAT OTHERS THINK OF THEM?

ever since he was a child, greyson never gave a damn about what others made of himself. he knows who he is and what he strives for, he’s in touch with himself in every level and he’s confident on the person he has turned to be, so he couldn’t care less what other people think of him in general.

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

WHAT ARE THEIR FAVORITE HOBBIES AND PAST TIMES?

greyson doesn’t lead the average life and thus, that translates into him not having as much time as he’d like. when he does have free time, he enjoys doing normal activities and step out of the box. for one, he doesn’t song-write or creates music-related stuff nearly as much, he saves that for work. free time means time with friends and family, and especially his wife. he loves traveling and getting to know new cultures and places, he loves drawing and, lately, he’s been playing around with sculptures and the likes. he loves, loves, loves reading a good book and watching a good movie. if he has the time, he likes attending to basketball, baseball or even american football games - he enjoys watching sports - or he likes to go and play some basketball or baseball with friends, or even do some boxing. he loves going to museums and art galleries, as well as photography and any fashion-related events. anything art related, in general, he loves. it all depends on his mood for the day.

WHAT IS THEIR MOST TREASURED POSSESSION?

his quogue’s house in general but, especially, his recording studio in that house for it’s where he keeps everything that he’s achieved in his career, as well as it is where he works in new music and overall ideas.

WHAT IS THEIR FAVORITE COLOR?

his favorite color is funnily enough light grey.

WHAT IS THEIR FAVORITE FOOD?

if you told him to choose one favorite dish right now, he would say chow mein. in general, however, he is very much into asian cuisine and he would say chinese cuisine - any of the eight cuisines within it - is his absolute favorite.

WHAT, IF ANYTHING, DO THEY LIKE TO READ?

when he reads, which sadly isn’t often due to his lack of time, greyson has no preference. he reads anything from hemingway to j.k. rowling down to stephen king. it really depends on what he has with him to read ; as long as it’s a really good book that allows him to immerse in a whole new world, grey doesn’t care if it’s sci-fi or if it’s a romance. occasionally, he likes reading biographies on people he appreciates.

WHAT IS THEIR IDEA OF GOOD ENTERTAINMENT?

anything art related, be it attending to a concert or going to the movies, visiting a museum/art gallery or attending a fashion show, or even going to see some kind of play. greyson loves art and he finds it’s a really good way to expand your mind and knowledge, as well as it being a good way to feeding your creativity. overall, for him the idea of good entertainment revolves around doing something that will make him happy.

DO THEY SMOKE, DRINK OR USE DRUGS? IF SO, WHY? DO THEY WANT TO QUIT?

grey does smoke ; until a few years ago, he was big on cigarettes, especially because he found they eased him when he was overly stressed, but these days he doesn’t smoke nearly as much, nor does he find himself reaching for his pack of cigs as much. in situations of extreme stress, the nicotine calms him down and helps staying centered and focused. quitting is not something on his mind, especially because he doesn’t smoke half as much, but if it eventually happens, he chooses to do so, he doesn’t think he’d have a hard time doing so. as for drinking, he does it socially and in general, not to a point where he’s plastered, unless of course, he’s out celebrating something. he used to do lean and lsd, especially during the beginning of his career, but he has quit doing so ever since because as he grew into who he is, he came to realize he didn’t need to mess with heavier stuff. he does, however, still smoke weed, especially when he’s working on new music or he’s looking for a way to completely ease himself of any worries that are work-related or a creativity block. weed helps his creativity flow all in all, it gives him the last push he needs to really get into his work. he rarely uses it if he’s not working / creating something, though.

HOW DO THEY SPEND A TYPICAL SATURDAY NIGHT?

greyson is not, by any means, a fan of routines ; they drain the fun out of everything, in his opinion. therefore, it’s not a surprise or shock that he doesn’t have a typical way to spend a saturday. sometimes he might be on the stage doing a performance, others he might be attending to some fashion show or checking an art installment, others he might be going to a movie premiere or he might be in the studio working. he might be home with his wife, doing whatever they feel like, or he might be enjoying a night out with her and close friends. it all depends on where he is and what he / the ones around him, feel like too.

WHAT MAKES THEM LAUGH?

there are some things that can get a laugh out of him ; sitcoms like f.r.i.e.n.d.s, brooklyn nine-nine or the fresh prince of bel-air, often get a laugh out of him. dave chappelle’s stand up comedy shows, as well as some other comedians, get a laugh out of him. funny jokes and some jesting comments usually amuse him and get a laugh out of him. likewise, funny pet videos and funny photos of pets usually do it for him and when little kids saying something really funny all absentmindedly and without realizing it, he gets amused and laughs too. it’s not hard to make grey laugh, really.

WHAT, IF ANYTHING, SHOCK OR OFFENDS THEM?

frankly, greyson has seen so much throughout his life that nothing ever seems to shock him anymore. however, he can’t say some sad events occurring in the world, no matter how expected they should be by now, don’t shock him. terrorist attacks, sudden deaths, questionable events ( like the current president’s election for one ) still shock him in the worst of the ways. as for offending him... it takes a great deal of effort to manage to do so? you’d have to insult someone he’s really close to in order to offend him, but at the same time, you’d be more so crossing the line and angering him. if it comes from someone he cares about deeply, insinuating certain things about him, doubting him or implying he’s lying and just overall being disrespectful, gets to him and offends him.

WHAT WOULD THEY DO IF THEY HAD INSOMNIA AND HAD TO FIND SOMETHING TO DO TO AMUSE THEMSELVES?

if he was feeling creative, he’d head to his studio and work some - be it on lyrics or just some beats, or by doing some planning and answering some work e-mails and reviewing schedules and the likes. if he was frustrated, he’d head to the gym and workout, probably do some boxing to get rid of it and, possibly, tire himself out. if he was drained out, he would just watch a good movie or catch up on some show on telly or netflix.

HOW DO THEY DEAL WITH STRESS?

whereas at the beginning of his career he used to always be overwhelmed, throughout the years greyson has learned to keep things at bay and work things out by maintaining his stress levels to a minimum. he’s insanely organized even though it doesn’t rub across that way, he has his schedule very, very well planned and he keeps all important memos, meetings, events and dates on his phone’s / laptop’s calendar so he’s always in sync with everything going around him. each night before going to bed, he goes through his schedule for the following day so he knows what he’ll have to face the next morning, and each morning, after morning routine and breakfast, he checks his e-mail, texts and so forth in order to see if he needs to add anything to his schedule. on top of that, he has nadia and ella who help him massively at keeping schedules organized and who help him working everything out so he makes it on time to wherever he needs to go. being so organized and keeping a calculated schedule, as well as developing these habits, help him keeping the stress at bay. as for impromptu stress, incoming from situations that weren’t predictable, if possible greyson likes to talk it out and find a way to work things out, if not he can always go for a walk or a jog to clear his mind, and take fifteen minutes to press a little pause when everything gets too much. he’s really good at managing stress by now.

ARE THEY SPONTANEOUS OR DO THEY ALWAYS NEED A PLAN?

he’s a spontaneous person when it comes to personal matters, he’s mercurial and can come up with new ideas and suggestions of what to do on the spot but when it comes to work, he’d rather have, what he likes to call, game plan. as a really organized person, greyson likes to have a vision and see how things will go ; he likes to know and prepare himself for how it’ll play out. so he’s an in-between of both. he throws some spontaneity into everything he does but he doesn’t mind having a plan just in case and so he’ll know how it’ll play out and how it won’t backfire.

WHAT ARE THEIR PET PEEVES?

he hates, with a burning passion, when people interrupt others and don’t let them finish what they were saying / explain what they wished to do. it drives him insane when people do it because he can’t understand why or how cutting someone off and possibly triggering a fight by doing so, would be better than listening and working things out. likewise, he can’t stand when people put words on his mouth and/or act all righteous when they’re in the wrong. following the topic, he despises when people talk over others and when they act patronizing or passive-aggressive. he hates when people chew with their mouth open, he finds it really really gross, and when people slurp their drinks. he doesn’t like when people are fake/feigning to be someone else, it bothers him when he can clearly see they’re lying in order to seem cool in someone else’s eyes. it annoys him beyond words when people don’t cover their mouths when coughing or sneezing and people who, besides taking up the whole sidewalk, are incredibly slow and stop in the middle of it out of nowhere. he hates when he’s lunching/brunching/having dinner with someone and they’re more interested in the phone than the world around them. it drives him mad when people show no respect for other’s opinions, make a big deal out of nothing and believe everything they read/hear. additionally, he can’t stand people with no hygiene and when people continue arguing even after being proved wrong.

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

DESCRIBE THE ROUTINE OF A NORMAL DAY FOR THEM. HOW DO THEY FEEL WHEN THIS ROUTINE IS DISRUPTED?

to begin with, grey’s definition of a normal day is not the same as most people. in fact, he doesn’t have any kind of routine, seeing as he leads a very different lifestyle. either way, he loves the fact he doesn’t have a routine and he loves how he doesn’t have to do the same thing every single day. he loves the unstable, hectic schedule, he loves the rush and adrenaline. all in all, greyson was born to live and lead the lifestyle he does.

WHAT IS THEIR GREATEST STRENGTH AS A PERSON?

he’s genuine and authentic, in every level of his life, in everything he does. he might not be the strongest or the most humble, he might be mercurial and sometimes, arrogant, but he gives all of him in everything he does and he makes sure whatever he’s trying to accomplish is something that makes him happy and that shows who he is and where he stands as a person in that precise moment in time. his greatest strength is just that, that he’s genuine and that he is relentless when it comes to displaying it, be it on a personal level through his actions or professionally, through his art.

WHAT IS THEIR GREATEST WEAKNESS?

being so overprotective of those he loves, especially leticia, often means that when someone does something to try and hurt them/her or to get to them/her, grey can easily lose touch with what’s right and wrong and get angry to a point where he could do some real danger. his greatest weakness are those he loves.

IF THEY COULD CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT THEMSELVES, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

nothing. grey has learned to love himself and love his life the way it is ; he’s at absolute peace with his appearance and his soul, he’s in sync with everything in his life, and he believes that if he is the way he is, it’s because there’s an underlying reason for it. being himself has brought him wonderful things and he believes to change something about him, would be to disrespect that. he’s happy with who he is so, ultimately, he wouldn’t change a thing.

ARE THEY GENERALLY INTROVERTED OR EXTROVERTED?

he’s an extrovert in its whole, there’s no hint of introversion to him and his character.

ARE THEY GENERALLY ORGANIZED OR MESSY?

greyson is not, by any means, a neat-freak but he’s not fond of messy stuff. he’s an incredibly organized person, particularly when it regards his professional life, so altogether, he’s far more organized than messy.

NAME THREE THINGS THEY CONSIDER THEMSELVES TO BE VERY GOOD AT, AND THREE THINGS THEY CONSIDER THEMSELVES TO BE VERY BAD AT.

three things greyson is amazing at : CREATING ( be it music, writing, art or clothes, he’s great at being creative ), SOLVING CONFLICTS ( he could charm anyone’s pants off ; he has an insane ability to talk things out and shed light on certain perspective while making it simple for a person to understand it ) and ENTERTAINING PEOPLE ( whether it’s through his music and shows, or by taking them out and finding a way to get them to have a good time, grey is really good at that ). three things greyson is awful at : LYING - he can’t for the life of him lie to someone, no matter what the situation is -, DANCING - he has many talents, and he can get away with his skills at a club or something, but altogether, grey is not the best dancer - and FOLLOWING TV SHOWS - he has a hard time focusing on them so unless they’re sitcoms he can loosely follow or something chill, greyson can’t, for the life of him, follow tv shows.

DO THEY LIKE THEMSELVES?

he does ; greyson is at peace with everything he is and he’s proud of himself, for the life he leads and all he managed to accomplish.

WHAT GOAL DO THEY MOST WANT TO ACCOMPLISH IN THEIR LIFETIME?

lead a life worth living, one that he’ll be proud of when he passes away. he wants to live for, as oscar wilde once said, “ to live is the rarest thing in the world. most people exist, that is all. ” - that’s what he wants to accomplish the most.

WHERE DO THEY SEE THEMSELVES IN FIVE YEARS?

doing what he loves still, perhaps having branched out to collaborate with some kind of designer and by being affiliated to some brand and to some kind of art-related business. maybe having his own recording label, depending how it’ll go, and definitely being affiliated with more foundations and causes he believes in. he sees himself with leticia, and he hopes they’ll have their own little family by then, and, most importantly, he hopes their kids will be able to have some sense of normalcy in their lives despite who they are. he sees himself as an accomplished person who is happy with the life they’re leading.

IF THEY COULD CHOOSE, HOW WOULD THEY WANT TO DIE?

peacefully and without feeling too much pain, maybe during his sleep. greyson finds it rather morbid to consider stuff like this so it’s not a topic he enjoys reminiscing upon.

IF THEY KNEW THEY WERE GOING TO DIE IN 24 HOURS, NAME THREE THINGS THEY WOULD DO IN THE TIME THEY HAD LEFT.

record a tape with every last word he had to say, about his life, everything he accomplished and everyone he loved and who contributed to make him the person he was, do a free show in new york so he could, for one last time, do what he loved and take leticia in one last date.

WHAT IS THE ONE THING FOR WHICH THEY WOULD MOST LIKE TO BE REMEMBERED AFTER THEIR DEATH?

for everything he accomplished and especially for being someone who never quit his dreams and always believed in himself, his hard-work and talent. he wants to be remembered for always being true to himself and for being genuine in everything he did. he wants to be remembered as someone who lived the life, as someone who was happy, all along.

WHAT THREE WORDS BEST DESCRIBE THEIR PERSONALITY?

genuine, ambitious and creative.

WHAT THREE WORDS WOULD OTHERS PROBABLY USE TO DESCRIBE THEM?

hard-working, honest ( borderline blunt ) and over-achiever.

#✰. —– greyson •「 HEADCANON. 」❜

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nothesc · 7 years

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Drawing

Based on this post

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them + Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen

Someone would say that a 23 years old that is studying his second year of Univeristy should be a mature person. Yousef Acar isn’t. At least not when it comes to study in the library.

Ever since he started his degree in education the same year Sana started hers in medicine they’ve been going to the library together to study for their exams.

Wow, that’s so nice, you’d think. Wow, that’s so romantic, you’d say.

For Sana, it isn’t. Or at least, she wants to pretend it isn’t.

It’s not that she doesn’t like being with him. She does. She always feels great knowing that he’s with her. Just the mere action of sitting together in silence makes Sana happy. Having him to share the breaks. They usually just go out for a short walk around the corner, maybe grab a coffee, or just talk. Whatever it takes to rest a little bit before going back to studying.

But studying with Yousef is…distracting.

And no, it’s not the proximity, it’s not the fact that Sana can literally feel Yousef’s heat, it’s not the fact that she can smell his cologne, that cologne she loves so much.

Well, maybe that’s it too. But those aren’t the main reasons.

The main reason is that Yousef is a kid that can’t sit still.

It always starts the same way. They arrive at the library, Sana sits down and Yousef takes the seat on her left. Sana gets her books out and so does Yousef. Sana starts to study and so does Yousef. But after awhile he gets bored. And after looking around for a while, play a little bit with his chair –almost falling, of course- and after staring right at Sana for what seems like forever, he grabs a pen and that’s when the show starts.

The first thing he does is always drawing random doodles in his notebook, maybe a circle, maybe just some lines, whatever comes to his mind first. But then, he being the dork he is, ends up drawing hearts. And not just simple hearts, he draws hearts with a Y and a S, Yousef and Sana’s initials. If only he’d write them and stay in silence, Sana wouldn’t mind.

But every time he draws a heart he nudges Sana slightly to catch her attention and shows it to her very proudly. Sana’s reaction is always the same: she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Then she looks back at her books and tries to concentrate again. But she knows she won’t be able to concentrate for too long. In about 5 minutes she’ll feel Yousef’s hands on hers and as if that wasn’t distracting enough, then she’ll feel a cold pen drawing on her hand. Because if there’s something that Yousef likes is drawing on Sana’s hand when he’s bored. Does he draw hearts too? No, he doesn’t. Oh that’s good, right? Sana is not sure if she’d prefer getting hearts drawn instead of what he does because she always has to hide it before coming to her house so Elias doesn’t tease her about it.

They’re at the library now. They’ve been studying for two and a half hours and as predicted Yousef got tired of it five minutes ago. It doesn’t take long for Sana to feel the pen on her hand. If she closes her eyes she can literally feel the words forming on her hand. When she knows he’s finished she looks down and sees it, always the same words: I love you.

She presses her lips together trying not to smile, she wants to seem annoyed by it, after all. But as soon as she looks up at him and sees his soft look, she can’t help but melt and smile broadly at him. Yeah, definitely better than hearts.

It seems like it’s time for a break.

#yousana #skam #yousana drabbles

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brightaely · 7 years

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“The Lyrics to my Music” - Prologue

Pairing: Suga x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Slight smut and angst in future chapters.

Summary: One day you lose your notebook, the most important item you own, it’s filled with exactly 68 lyrics that you wrote, all of them extremely personal to you. Later that same day you discover an iPod filled with different songs with no lyrics. By some strange coincidence that iPod belongs to the same person who discovered your notebook of lyrics. This would cause the two of you to meet and form a friendship. Or maybe even something more…

A/N - Okay here it is! The prologue to my first imagine! I really hope you like it and any feedback would be very appreciated!

Next chapter is going up next week!

[Y/N]’s POV

All of us have, at some point of our lives, felt the feeling of panic. Whether it was because we were scared of something, or because we missed an important event, or because we lost something. Well, take that feeling and multiply it by a hundred - that's how worried I was when I realized that my notebook was gone. It was so strong that it made my stomach turn and cold sweat to cover my forehead. My legs were shaking as I was standing next to my parked car digging through my backpack like a crazy woman.

My eyes were filling up with tears when I finally gave up realizing that my most treasured possession is gone. This notebook was basically my journal, keeping every single one of my secrets. The only difference being that instead of journal entries, it was filled with song lyrics. Exactly 68 of them.

And now they're all gone! All my secrets, my dreams, all my fantasies - my deepest darkest thoughts - they were all gone!

I tried to trace my steps back to when I last remember using it, which was this morning. I took it with me to the park and after my morning jog I sat down on a bench, right next to the lake and spend an hour or two writing.

Then I went back home to my apartment and when I opened my backpack, my notebook wasn't there. So I decided not to panic and went back to the park, but by the time I got there it was gone.

I groaned in frustration. Why the fuck would anyone take a random notebook they found on a park bench?!

Angry and confused I went back to my car and started digging through my backpack again, in hopes that maybe I just didn't see it the first time.

Which leads me to where I am right now - sitting in my parked car, banging my head against the steering wheel with people walking by me completely oblivious to my struggle.

After about 20 minutes of me banging my head against the steering wheel, crying my eyes out and pulling on my hair in frustration, I tried to tell myself to relax. I told myself that everything is going to be okay, because I wrote my phone number on the inside cover of the notebook back when I bought it, so if anyone did find it they would text me. Hopefully.

And you might think I’m overexaggerating things. But I am not! As sad as it sounds, this notebook has like my best friend ever since I bought it 3 months ago. My safe place. And just knowing that right now someone else is holding it in their hands drives me crazy.

I spent a few more minutes trying to calm myself down. But when I looked at my watch I - for the second time that day - panicked. It was 10:55. My work shift was starting in 5 minutes! I started the car engine and headed to work, going as fast as I can without going over the speed limit.

I work at a small Italian restaurant owned by a very large Italian family. They were mostly nice to me. But even though I’ve worked for them for 3 years now, we never really talked a lot.

I arrived at work at 11:05. Even though I was late, I was still proud of myself for being - almost - on time. I walked into the kitchen and put an apron on, ignoring the angry look the owner’s wife (who was also the cook) was giving me.

The rest of my shift was pretty uneventful. I was serving food, cleaning up tables, sweeping the floors and even managed to clean up a few toilets. But I was also checking my phone every 10 minutes or so, to see if anyone has found my notebook.

But as more time passed, hours and minutes rolling by, I couldn't help but start losing hope about someone actually finding my journal and texting me about it.

It was about 7:15 - exactly 15 minutes before my shift was over and I could finally go home. No one has texted me about the notebook yet, and I was slowly starting to panic again. But work helped a little, at least it was a distraction.

I had one more table left to clean. It was a small table for one at the middle of the restaurant - nothing particularly interesting about it.

That was, until I noticed a small device with a pair of earbuds plugged into it. An iPod - I realized. I didn’t pay it a lot of attention at first and thought that I would just give it to the owners and tell them that someone lost it. It happens often - people losing their stuff and then coming back the next day to get them.

But then, an unexpected feeling of curiosity hit me. Maybe it was, because I, myself, lost something today and I kind of wanted to replace it. Or maybe it was because the idea of someone else’s iPod, maybe containing just as much secrets as my notebook, interested me. Of course I knew that it might just be full of random songs with no real meaning, but I still decided to take it.

I looked around to see if anyone was there, because I knew I would get in trouble if the owners see me taking it. When I saw that there was no one there I quickly put it in the pocket of my jeans and finished wiping the table.

Yoongi’s POV

It wasn’t panic that I felt when I realized my iPod was gone, it wasn’t sadness...it was anger that I felt. After I realized I forgot it at the restaurant it was already 8:00 PM. I drove back to the restaurant, as soon as I could, but when I asked one of the waiters to check for it on the table that I sat earlier that day he came back empty-handed with and apologized, telling me that he asked the other waiters and the owners if they had found anything but they all said no.

I collected all of my remaining sanity and gave the waiter a quick “thank you”, before storming out of the restaurant absolutely furious at myself for forgetting it.

The iPod wasn’t anything too expensive or important, it was what was inside that was important to me. In it, was every song I have ever composed, none of them have lyrics (I’m still working on that), but still, they were important to me.

And yeah, I know, I have the music sheets for all of those songs at my studio, and I can play every song whenever I feel like it, but that iPod was different. I was using it to try and come up with lyrics while listening and re-listening to my songs.

Usually I’m great with words so I don’t really have a hard time coming up with lyrics. But this time was different. It was different, because in my music I expressed certain emotions that, as hard as I tried, I just couldn’t express with words.

And now I was standing in my car, in front of the restaurant, wanting to punch myself in the face for being so distracted!

I sighed and looked around the car, until I found what I was looking for. The notebook. I found it earlier today on a park bench, I know I should’ve probably just left it on the bench and leave, but it was about to rain and I didn’t want it to get wet so I took it with me.

I didn’t have enough time to look at it, and I knew I probably shouldn’t, but the way it looked made me really curious.

I took it and put it in my lap, looking down at it. What if it was someone’s diary? I shouldn’t be doing that. But then again, is there really anyone above the age of 10 who keeps secret diaries?

I looked at the cover carefully. It was a completely ordinary notebook, decorated with a lot of random doodles and random quotes written all over it. I carefully ans slowly, as if it was made out of glass, opened the notebook to the first page.

“A letter to my future self”

It said at the top. And I thought that this was, for sure, someone’s diary, because that would be the kind of stuff I would write if I had one. But as I started reading it, sliding my gaze over the words carefully, as if worried that I’m going to read something I shouldn’t, I realized that it wasn’t a journal entry, but rather a poem. And as I kept reading, absolutely fascinated by the way that person used their words, I realized that it wasn’t really a poem either, but song lyrics. It was structured like a song, and it sounded like a song, so it must be...a song.

When I finished the poem I closed the notebook again and put it aside. I still think that this might be someone’s diary! I just can’t help it! They way the song was written was absolutely stunning, but I feel like it was just a journal entry covered in a lot of metaphors an rhymes. But the way that person wrote it was just so...intoxicating. There are so many words I could use to describe it, but intoxicating was definitely the best.

I looked at my watch - 8:45 PM. I sighed, remembering my lost iPod. It was time for me to go home.

I put the notebook aside, giving it one last look before starting the car.

3 hours later, I’m laying on my bed, the notebook sitting open on my lap as I was reading through it. I’ve read through 4 of the songs since I got home, each of them getting better and better. Right now I was on a song called “Lights”. It was really deep, but really good at the same time.

As I was reading it I realized that a lot of the lyrics probably would make a lot more sense to people who actually knew the person who wrote them, because a lot of them seemed to be holding a very personal meaning, but a lot of them could also be interpreted in a lot of different ways.

For example, I have been rereading the line:

“The lights saved me when nothing else did.”

I’ve be rereading it so many times that I memorized it perfectly. I was trying to understand the meaning of it. Maybe by lights, the author meant stage lights and that performing was what saved them from dark times. Or maybe by lights the meant people in their life. Or maybe they meant something completely different and I just couldn’t understand it.

I got so into the songs that I got out a pen and started scribbling down little notes next to some of the lines.

And as I finished reading “Lights” I realized for the fourth time that night, that the person who’s notebook that was, is an incredible writer. I absolutely fell in love with the way they write. It was just so addictive and they really had a way with words.

I yawned and lied down in my bed. I was exhausted, but I really wanted to keep reading...

I decided to reread the first 2 songs to see if I can find a new meaning in them and then go to sleep. But when I opened the notebook to the first page I noticed something on the inside cover that I didn’t notice the first time. There was a phone number written in a glittery blue pen, and above it it said:

If found, please text:

I didn’t know what to do.

I knew the right thing to do was text the person and tell them that I found their notebook. But I really, REALLY didn’t want to give it back! Also, I already wrote inside it.

And then there was also the thought of actually meeting the person who was behind those words and actually talk to them... It sounded ridiculous, even if I did meet the person they would probably just want their notebook back. Also, I shouldn’t have read it anyways so....

But it sounded so amazing! I really, really want to meet that person! I want them to explain to me exactly what each song means!

I sighed at what I was about to do next. Before picking up my phone.

My first message was a simple:

“Hello!”

Then I decided to explain exactly who I was and why I was texting them:

“My name is Yoongi and I found your notebook on a park bench today...”

I immediately got a response back:

“OMG! REALLY! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!”

“Wait, did you read anything that was inside?”

I should say no! I really should! Just say no and give back the notebook and the two of you would completely forget about it the next day.

“Yes, actually.”

“I’m very, very sorry!”

“And actually I was wondering something...”

“Can we maybe meet someday so you can explain some of the meanings behind your songs to me?”

“I promise I’m not a creep! Or a serial killer! I just really like your work!”

I wanted to facepalm myself as soon as I sent the last message. Why would I do something like that? I don’t like people! And I don’t like talking to people! And I especially don’t like meeting new people! So why the hell did I want to meet this random person so badly?

The realization hit me as soon as I asked myself the question. It was, because as I was reading the lyrics, I didn’t just become interested in the meanings behind them, but I also became interested in the person who wrote them.

[Y/N]’s POV

I was lying on my living room couch with my headphones on. My button was hovering over the play button of the iPod for minutes now. I turned it over in my fingers to look at the back. “Suga” was written on it in a black permanent marker. I didn’t know what it meant, but it kept reminding me that this was actually someone else’s property.

I took a deep breath and finally pressed the play button.

There was silence for a moment. But then it was interrupted by the sound of a piano. It was a song. A song with no lyric. Only music.

And I couldn’t deny - the music was beautiful. Even though there was not a single word in the entire song, it was full of emotion. Emotion that was somewhat contagious. Emotion that somehow moved through my headphones to my ears and inside my body.

I closed my eyes and imagined a person, their hands hovering over the piano, pressing each key carefully, gently, as if they weren’t touching a musical instrument, but the love of their life.

My heartbeat was getting faster and my eyes were filling up with tears.

The song was hypnotizing. Contagious...

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the loud beep of my phone, informing me that I have a text.

I immediately removed my headphones and at the speed of light, I unlocked my phone.

“Hello!”

It said.

“My name is Yoongi and I found your notebook on a park bench today...”

I responded immediately, almost jumping off the couch in happiness:

“OMG! REALLY! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!”

But then another thought hit me, that for some reason made me nervous:

“Wait, did you read anything that was inside?”

I sat on the floor, drumming my fingers nervously, waiting for a response:

“Yes, actually.”

“I’m very, very sorry!”

“And actually I was wondering something...”

“Can we maybe meet someday so you can explain some of the meanings behind your songs to me?”

“I promise I’m not a creep! Or a serial killer! I just really like your work!”

The messages came one after the other so quickly that I didn’t have enough time to react properly to any of them. He read my lyrics! And he likes them! He likes them so much that he wants to meet me?!

In any other situation I would have said no. But after all, this Yoongi guy found the most important object I own. And I was so happy and thankful that I was willing to do almost anything in return.

“Okay...”

I answered simply after a few minutes of thinking.

“Really?! Thank you so much!”

He answered.

“Of course:)”

I replied before turning off my phone and putting my headphones back on.

#bts #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi imagine #bts suga imagine

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3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 865

A Joint Thing

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Stop. You don’t even have to give the speech. I don’t want to talk about it. Tomorrow, yes. Not now.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

“What are you doing?”

“Figuring out how to send hay and grain for the horses and livestock affected by the hurricane in Texas. The flooding is so bad. Did you eat? I had a strip steak because I was starving. I got one for you too though. If you want it. It only takes a few minutes on the grill.”

I want 20 things and none are a strip steak, no matter how superbly she could probably cook it, André rued after Christina nodded at the mostly empty plate beside her Macbook in the study. There was one piece of broccoli left on it alongside some discarded fat. It was Saturday night, and he just got home from the match, and he pretty much hated everything until that very moment. How sweet is she. Does her two hours at the stadium to see me play like the Invisible Man for 55 minutes and then makes herself dinner for one, to eat while she works on helping abandoned or homeless animals. And she has that face like her mind is going hundreds of kilometers a minute to figure out what to do or say to me to erase that I am currently useless on the football pitch and hurt all the time.

“I had dinner in the ice bath. Who are we helping? One organization or a bunch of little ones?” The player walked the rest of the way into the cozy study decorated primarily with books, and pushed the back of his chair from one side of the partners’ desk to the other so that he could sit beside his girl and see what was on her screen. She slid over a bit to her left, and then leaned back over to the right to kiss his cheek. If not for the distraction of the coverage of the hurricane drowning greater Houston under an unprecedented tonnage of water, Christina would have been totally consumed by her sympathy for her partner and his frustrating struggle to show his quality and worth at the Westfalenstadion. He was simply a body to bounce the ball off now and then during his minutes that evening. The whole team was rather slow on the ball, and one-dimensional. André couldn’t make or take any chances, and he seldom even had the opportunity for nice interplay with his black and yellow teammates. The three points were secured for the home side, and their #21 didn’t do anything costly or embarrassing, so it wasn’t a complete loss, but he looked and felt irrelevant and disappointing. His girl wished she knew how to help him turn it on again, or even just how to get on the right path to it. Injuries and good form by others meant it had been nearly a year since he enjoyed an uninterrupted spell in which to build and flourish. His struggle was breaking her heart, and demolishing his spirit. Her instinct was to make him talk about it instead of brush it off for “tomorrow”, but she knew what it was like to be in his shoes too, and knew he needed a cool-down period before it was worth encouraging him to share his burden with her.

“That’s what I’m trying to decide. The ASPCA is doing a lot but I’m not sure if they’re doing livestock or just pets. USEF has a fund going just for horses. I’m looking for, like, if some group is taking in otherwise homeless horses and caring for them while their owners can’t. I’d like to send supplies. I don’t like just giving money to those big groups because I don’t know how much of it actually helps the animals, or how long it takes.” The horsewoman moved her dinner plate aside so that she could lean on her elbow on the desk and sigh while André scrolled through the pictures she found on Twitter.

“Why don’t you make a post saying that you’d like to help, and see who responds? It shouldn’t be too hard to verify and not get scammed. Your Twitter has a big reach,” he reminded her. “I’m sure people will tell you who is doing what.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m going to need someone who knows what’s going on and where I can even get hay and grain sent from, and how to get it to whoever needs it. I emailed someone I know at USEF to find out what they can tell me. I’ll wait to post until I hear back from her. Hey, are you sure you don’t want anything?” Christina watched him watch a rescue video on the screen, and reached for his fuzzy cheek with the back of her hand. He turned and offered a small but reassuring smile.

“We had pasta and chicken. I’m not hungry, Prinzessin.”

“Do you want anything else? Couch? Bed? Fire pit? Movie downstairs?”

“Didn’t you want to begin your Game of Thrones education tonight?” the footballer yawned.

“Yes but actually I want to save that for tomorrow because it’s supposed to rain aaaaalllllllll day and Lukas has a playdate at Nuri’s- all the kids do- I think it’s someone’s birthday but I forget- and so it’s the perfect afternoon for us to get embedded on the couch and watch a bunch of episodes at once. I even made watermelon salsa for the whole grain tortilla chips.” Christina blinked at him with big, round, welcoming blue eyes, and just that little hint of hopefulness in them- her hope for him to be into her plans- was enough to help him feel just that little bit better about everything. Instead of expressing excitement about her Sunday agenda, he decided to tease her.

“You’re sending him to a birthday without a gift?” he asked with mock incredulity.

“Tugba only just told me about it at the game!”

“Did you get to tuck him in?”

“No,” she frowned. “Espen said he watched most of the match though. He made you something today,” Lukas’ mom smiled back. “It’s upstairs. Want to see?”

His dad nodded and followed her to the master bath, to check out the little platinum blonde’s art project. It all started when Espen arrived for work with a tie-dye kit and some cheap t-shirts. She was joining some new friends from her apartment block on a sort of bar crawl/drinking scavenger hunt that would stretch from brunch into the evening. It was a team competition, and her team was all going to wear tie-dye shirts. The others were getting together on Saturday to make theirs but since she had to work she just got her own supplies and made it into a fun activity to do with Lukas. Christina couldn’t resist joining in. They filled horse buckets with the water and dye and taught Lukas how to bunch up the shirt and add the rubber bands. After he saw the results on a his-size shirt, he wanted to make one for Daddy. It had to be yellow, because his “Daddy shirt” was yellow. Espen showed him how to draw on the adult-size white tee with fabric markers before they prepped it for the dye. He attempted a dinosaur and several humans of varying sizes and proportions. They weren’t all entirely recognizable as people. The finished product looked like a terrible children’s doodle made into a shirt instead of refrigerator art. He wanted to put it in the dye twice to deepen the yellow hue per Espen’s recommendation, so Christina hung it in her shower to dry because the dark tiles wouldn’t get stained.

“I think you should let him give it to you in the morning,” she explained to the lucky recipient of the haute couture piece. “He’ll be so proud and happy.”

“You think? Wouldn’t he like it if I just wear it?” André loved his ugly shirt. He loved that his son thought of him when he wasn’t around, and wanted to make him something.

“You can wear it after he gives it to you. I think you’ll look sexy in it, babe.”

“For some reason yellow doesn’t do for my eyes what it does for yours.” He pointed a cheeky smirk at his girl while holding the shirt up to his body.

“It’s really not your color.” She wrinkled one side of her nose and shook her head, and inadvertently reminded him of the things he didn’t want to talk about. I never look good in yellow. That’s the truth, he huffed inside. BVB shirt on, all talent, composure, and intelligence, gone. I just look like a jackass. “We tried to make it a darker, more flattering shade for you.”

“Mhm. Should I put it back in the shower? It seems dry.”

“I think it’s fine. Why don’t you put your bag away and stay awhile?” The rider winked at the dejected player and then wandered out of the bathroom and onto their bed. It was freshly made in clean linens, and too inviting to simply be walked past. There was nothing else to do in the house besides hover around André anyway.

“Where is your tie-dye shirt?” he asked her from his closet.

“In a drawer. It’s rainbow colored. I’m like a tie-dye pro.”

“Are we going downstairs, or outside, or bed, or what? What should I put on right now?”

“I dunno I don’t care.” Hola Juanin, Christina thought as her sweatpants pocket vibrated. It wouldn’t have been anyone other than the Spaniard. He played 74 minutes and assisted the match-winning goal, and she was waiting for him to respond to her congratulations text.

“Thanks. We played well. Who is it going to be with this time?” he wrote back. Her message also mentioned her desire to do another Dirk video, with a new artist, whose music she discovered only that afternoon, sort of.

“You know the song I played for you that sounds like its straight out of 1983 and I said I thought it might actually be brand new and not from Miami Vice? The featured artist on it is two guys called Oliver, because they’re both Olivers, and they’re DJ’s and producers and I heard their album that just came out and it’s AMAZING. You’ll prob love it. Add it on Apple. “Electrify” is my fave,” the rider told him with several dancing girl emojis.

“Why can’t you pick someone I already know personally and have a relationship with? Don’t you like any Kygo songs?” Juan’s feigned exasperation was audible in his digital words.

“Who says I want you to produce the video again?”

“Your mom.”

“We’re invited to a nightclub party in Milan on Saturday night with Rafa people. It’s not all night tho. Do you wanna?”

“I don’t know. That’s a week from now.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“I had dinner with Paula. I’m home now. Bedtime for Juan.”

“Are you still hanging out with Taylor tomorrow?”

“I put sweatpants on because you have sweatpants on,” André shrugged on his way over to join his girl on the nicely made bed. She was upside down and tapping away on her phone. “Watcha doin?”

“Nothing.” Christina barely got the word out before the other player’s next message arrived.

“Yes.”

“Coming in hot.” The BVB midfielder crawled over her and literally just collapsed on her body, trapping the phone and her hand under his shoulder. “Ahh, yeah. Comfy.”

“Ugh, you weigh a ton. Why are your bones so heavy? There’s no fat on you to weigh this much.”

“Stop complaining,” he ordered before reluctantly scooting down some so that their parts lined up slightly better. He took the phone from her hand and set it on the bed, and then put both of her hands down at her side, out of the way of his elbows. Then he dropped his head down for a quick smooch. “Thanks for coming to the match.”

“Why do you still thank me?” Christina laughed. “I will never get that. I’ve been going to your games for almost 7 years. I was going to them even before that too. You just didn’t know it.”

“Because I’m still thankful that you support me. And that you support me at home too even after I play like crap.”

“You’re a hero to me and your son whether you score a hat trick, an own goal, or an award for doing absolutely nothing of note for an hour.” She couldn’t help but tease a little. It was totally fine with him because her teasing smile was very nice to look at. He bent down to kiss her again, a little slower, and then petted her forehead and some of her hair.

“I guess you weren’t paying attention when I gave the ball away and we almost lost a goal.”

“No I was, but you didn’t even do that well enough for them to actually score, so...doesn’t count.”

“Nice.”

“In all seriousness, was something hurting? You weren’t moving so good.” Christina held onto his waist and enjoyed his freshly showered smell. It was clean and manly and evoked all of the things inside a female that tell her to notice a male.

“Not really, but you’re right. By the end I wasn’t moving well.”

“Do you need a butt massage?” She slid her hands down over his behind and gave it a demonstrative double squeeze.

“You mean you have time for an ass that isn’t Jon Snow’s? You’ve found a way to include it in every other conversation for two days. Who is that?” His attention was diverted before he could list all the times she managed to work Kit Harington’s perfect ass into conversations. Her phone vibrated again, and lit up.

“How should I know? I can’t see it. Duuhhhhh.”

“Duhhhhhhh.”

“You’re crushing my liver or something. So you’re lucky you smell good.” And...meh. As the Olympic medalist inhaled some more eau du manly man, several threads converged in her head and dampened her mood. She spent much of the pre-match festivities with Zoe, and Nuri’s wife Tugba, talking about her new interest in Game of Thrones, and how it spawned from “that love scene” everybody was on about. The girls had so much to say and not just about Jon Snow’s wonderful, Fibonacci sequence-aligned bum. The other two knew more than the rider about the series, so they had more perspective on the significance of the love scene, but she could still testify to the powerful and meaningful emotions that were fueling it. It was obvious. The scene was about love, not sex. Zoe told her it was one of the few sex scenes in the whole story that portrayed the act as something loving instead of brutal and animalistic.

She also got wistful and fanciful and longing in talking about “that kind of love”. Marco’s girl asked, rhetorically, how amazing it is to have sex like that- to be so enamored, and so deeply in love, and so “so”. It was a struggle for her to even put a label on it. Tugba was all about it too. Nuri’s wife knew exactly what Zoe meant, and so did Christina. Unfortunately, thinking about the “oh my god, star-crossed lovers finally together, they need each other, they need to make love to fully experience it” sort of love just made her realize that she never had that with André anymore.

As Juan’s texts piled up on the phone next to her head, she felt uneasy inside. He was the one with whom she experienced that sort of love. He was the one she longed to be with that way. The girls also talked about other kinds of love, which they deemed good but not as singularly rewarding, satisfying, and special. André ticked the boxes for her for “when he’s so hot or handsome and you just need him” love and “casual, flirty” love, and “when you wake up Sunday morning and love each other” love. The player’s wives called the rarity of the other sort of love bittersweet, because they wanted to experience that encounter more often but recognized that it would be diminished with greater frequency. Zoe even said it was a “two handful” life experience, meaning one would only experience it maybe 10 times in a lifetime. So Christina logically shouldn’t have been that alarmed by the realization that she and her partner hadn’t had a night like that in some time, or that she wasn’t feeling that way about him. But she wasn’t sure that Zoe was right. It seemed like she thought of Juan that way all the time, and they had “Jonerys-level” sex multiple times just that summer. Sniffing her husband and feeling attracted to him on that most basic level of desire was disappointing for her, because it just reinforced everything she thought of in hospitality with the girls.

“Do you want me to move?” André offered when he noticed that her expression went flat for too long for her just to be kidding when she said he was lucky to smell good. It was like she frowned to go along with the banter but then just never smiled again or re-engaged.

“No. But...do you still...do you ever feel like you love me so much that you need to love me, like, physically? I mean- Not- Like- Like when you want to literally make love. You want to be together because of just...love. Not because you want to get off, or because I look good or whatever, or even like when you’re obsessed with being with my body for a while. I mean make love like the night before you went to Brazil, and our wedding night, and the first time we were together post-separation when it wasn’t weird anymore. When you look at me and I actually look back.” Christina regretted opening her mouth with every additional word she piled on to try to make herself clear. Her face was pink by the end, and she was hoping to disappear into the mattress somehow.

“How many times did you watch the scene with his butt? You are so obsessed. Let it go, Prinzessin,” André chuckled. “You get so hung up on films and shows. Life doesn’t have to be that dramatic!”

“Never mind the show. Do you know what I’m talking about? Don’t you-“

“I wanted to be with you like that yesterday and you didn’t feel the same.” Why is she asking me this, he wondered. Why does she fool around when I want to be serious, and get serious when I’m just whatever. Why does she watch and read love stories and then have to live them the same?

“No that’s not the same, babe.” The rider shook her head and peered up at him with almost something like urgency. “I’m talking about when we’re both feeling exactly the same way. It’s a joint thing. It can’t happen to just one.”

“Well wouldn’t you know then? If it has to be both of us then you know all the times,” the player sighed. He just didn’t want to be having that conversation. He wanted to go back to enjoying her face and her casual conversation. She sighed too, but inaudibly, and nodded. His answer illustrated a good point. There was no point in asking him if he experienced something recently that she didn’t when the experience was dependent on them both. So it wasn’t just Christina that wasn’t feeling it. It wasn’t just that she had Juan as an alternative. The other half of the equation was messed up too. She wanted to know why, but didn’t know how to find out. He lifted his head to look at nothing across the room- an inadvertent but indicative gesture that put more space between their faces. His girl didn’t know how to even go about finding out her answer without aggravating him further.

“Okay.”

“Has anyone told you the guy with the ass and the girl with the braids are brother and sister? And that he’s a bitch? He would be the guy who listens to Drake and cries over girls. It’s just a TV show, Chris. Real life isn’t supposed to be comparable.” He was still aggravated anyway.

“Can you get off me if you’re going to talk to me like I’m an idiot?” So was she. He flipped over onto his back next to her for a second and then did a sit up and shifted around to lean against the headboard. She rolled onto her stomach and picked up her mobile.

“Goodnight baby girl.” He says with a red heart. Honestly, why do I fight to be in love with a man I love dearly when it’s no struggle at all to be in love with the other man I love? Seriously. Why? Why do I do this? Schü and I treat our relationship like it’s a project we’re working on, or like a patient with a whole bunch of problems and we don’t even know if he’s going to make it. I just love Juan. That’s it. That’s all there is to say. I don’t have to try. He doesn’t talk about us like we’re a work in progress. He realistically COULD do that, because I know he sees us being together in the future and it must seem like we take steps toward and away from that at times, but he doesn’t. Why do we do this? I don’t even know anymore. The old answer was that I wanted us to be together, and I wanted to keep our family together. I used to say that just because something is hard doesn’t make it not worth it. I need a drink before I get upset.

“Where you going?”

“Water.”

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