#but my awkward self only semi acknowledged him and then his other friends came and he left

[belovedcherie]

UPDATE NOBODY ASKED FOR I SURVIVED THE DAY (context in tags yippee !!)

[yjwhatif]

With the semi/cryptic confirmation of Ed and Barts relationship in the series I have a question:

Do you think everyone knows about them (in world) or do you think they’re keeping it secret from some?

It’s just a thought that’s been in my head recently. It is most likely fuelled by the whole drama of G&B not being able to depict a “specific character” (it’s definitely Bart) as gay. They’ve had to hide the relationship from their audience - because of ridiculous reasons - but there are still moments that bring up the question - Are they? Before the reveals from AskGreg, I kinda thought- well they are clearly not together yet, but perhaps they both have feelings for one another and are just waiting for the other to make the next move because they’re nervous idiots who don’t want to have read the situation wrong — all while their friends are like - seriously guys? just get together already. Kinda like they did in s1 with Wally and Artemis - and I guess early Supermartian as well - which I would have been okay with... though with the likelihood of there being at least another two year time skip you’d probably have missed the getting together moment - which would kinda suck. Anyway. With the information about the chances being they were supposed to clearly be in a relationship throughout S3 — which makes the whole structuring of ILLUSIONS just make sense — it’s got me viewing their moments with a whole new energy. Also, I saw this post by Greg —

And let me just clarify, I have no idea if this is actually referencing the Ed and Bart stuff, it might not be (probably isn't). This is purely me speculating.

My reading of this is they got told they couldn’t depict Bart as gay pretty late on and that specifically affected ILLUSIONS where they likely intended to confirm the relationship with that first shot - the kiss on the cheek moment. Even now that moment is just odd - because it’s there but it’s not - because technically there is no actual kiss… which I think is absolutely the point. It plants the seed without actually breaking any rules - all by keeping the momentum but removing the specific kiss frame. It’s the only moment that I feel is explicit in saying they are in a relationship - everything else you can just read into and imply there’s something - but they technically don’t confirm anything.

The whole thing is actually quite interesting - despite the reasoning for it being totally ridiculous. By keeping/showing what they did... People notice it. People talk about it. People reflect on it. More people talk about it. People writing. Make. Create. Discuss it. An entire audience is formed who want and support it. It’s a whole thing now because people noticed it and generated a positive response to it - and that was before all the AskGreg information. The whole reason YJ got a season 3 is because the fans fought to get it back. Enough people talked about it - and kept talking about it - to convince TPTB that the show should come back. Greg and Brandon know this. They know the power the fans have and maybe they hoped that power would help them again in freeing Bart from these ridiculous restrictions. #letbartoutofthecloset

Obviously, we can't know until S4 is released whether G&B got the permission to confirm Bart's sexuality the way they envisioned - but maybe the responses that came during the release of 3b were enough to convince TPTB that they were fighting a losing battle. But who knows, people in power can be very stubborn at times, so we will just have to see what we get. Fingers crossed they eased up though - and not just because of the Ed/Bart relationship (which I am obviously a fan of -- it's fine if not everyone is) - but because these restrictions on LGBTQ+ content shouldn't be a thing and need to stop -- there is just no validity in them.

Anyhow. despite their not being allowed to officially confirm the relationship, Greg's comment about Ed's having a boyfriend they can't name basically confirms the fact without technically breaking any rules again. Masterfully done Wiesman. With this, it implies the pair are in fact dating during S3 which brings us back to the original question... but who knows??

With the comments of Virgil during ILLUSIONS, it's easy to assume their friends do in fact know. They also seem to have no problem being close and interacting with one another whilst in the presence of others -- that is, except for one moment...

Ever since the first time I saw this episode (ELDER WISDOM) I have always found this moment strange - because Ed seems to get kinda awkward when Barry comes to check on Bart. (Or that's how I see it at least.) He realises Flash is standing there and immediately pulls his head down averting his gaze -- almost like he doesn't want to be seen by the elder. But why? Does Barry not know about the pair -- or maybe he doesn't know about Bart and Ed thinks their current closeness is too revealing -- who's to say Bart's even fully out to the world yet -- who's to say either of them are? We certainly don't since we weren't allowed to be shown. We can't know until we know - so until then we can play the speculation game while we wait.

Bart is certainly a bit of a secret keeper when it comes to being himself. I'm still convinced the Bart we see onscreen is merely his interpretation of what he thinks people expect from a speedster in this time. We saw 'real' Bart, he was snarky and cynical and nothing like the Bart we've had for the past two seasons. He said it himself - he's playing a character - and I don't think he knows how to break out of it - not while the possibility exists that it might hurt those he's grown to care about. Bart wants to be seen a certain way to avoid acknowledging the truth of the past - if people see him as happy and smiley, then no one will question him on things he doesn't want to talk about. The problem with that is you can't hide yourself forever - cracks begin to form and eventually, the truth comes out whether you want it to or not. So who knows how comfortable Bart is revealing any of his true self to those he cares about. Maybe his relationship with Ed will be the thing that finally helps him find comfort in being himself, whilst also trusting others to still accept him as himself... and maybe getting him that bit of therapy he really needs.

This brings us to Eduardo… First, can I just say it made me so happy to see Greg’s confirmation of Ed being gay - though it is slightly annoying that he was robbed of his explicit onscreen reveal in S3 thanks to the drama with Bart. His whole relationship to his powers in S2 to S3 fits the representation of coming to terms with your sexuality/identity from a very negative point of view. Feeling like it’s something that needs fixing or needs to be “cured” - to then finding the light and freedom in accepting yourself for you. His growth between seasons is brilliant. He understands the hate and insecurity the teens are feeling because he felt it himself. He does all he can to help them because he never felt he got that help when he needed it - and no one deserves to feel worse for being who they are. Obviously, the things he talks about are framed in the context of dealing with/accepting the meta-gene - yet there are certain moments where it seems he’s saying more than that…

All of which got me wondering - why did Ed originally runaway? It certainly wasn’t because of the meta-abilities he did not yet have. All he’s ever said on the subject was he thought he wanted to be with his father - the man it seems he barely had a relationship with. No, I think Ed has been running from himself for a long time and his dad just happened to be an actual direction for him to aim for. The way he speaks about his wanting to be “cured” and “praying to get rid of his powers” suggests an upbringing around religion and traditional ideas of there being a ‘normal/proper’ way to be — while anything that doesn’t fit that way is treated as other or something that needs to be changed or 'fixed'. Maybe he ran to avoid being found out and run the risk of being ostracised by those he loved. Or maybe he was found out and leaving wasn’t entirely his choice*. If this was the case, I can certainly imagine him not wanting to come out to his dad for fear of his reaction and completely losing all chance of that father-son relationship they’re both trying so hard to keep. It can seem easier to live in secret than risk the reality of loss. So while the meta-gene likely wasn’t the main thing he was angry about in S2, it was able to become a physical thing he could blame and focus his anger on - without having to think about where his issues truly lied… Though with a bit of time it also became the thing he was comfortable conveying his feelings through...

“I’ve learned to accept, even love my meta-abilities”

I love this line so much and it’s all because of the delivery by Freddy Rodrigues. There is the slightest hint of a pause before he says “meta-abilities”, which gives the impression he was about to say something else before then remembering himself and who he was talking to. Then there’s the small inflecion he put on “love”, which makes it sound like it’s the first time he’s heard himself say the words out loud. I don’t hear him talking about the gene - I hear him talking about finally accepting himself - all of himself - for the first time in maybe ever and finally feeling happy because of it. I hear growth... From being the angry 14-year-old skater who just wanted to run away and escape any way he could. To the 16-year-old councillor/Outsider jumping straight into the danger to protect and inspire those who need it. Both he and Bart are such strong characters with so much more to be seen - especially when it comes to the insecurities which lie behind their masks. They both compliment each other pretty perfectly - both powers-wise and personality-wise - meaning while they try to hide themself from others, I don't think it'll take long for them to realise they can't hide from each other.

Anywho, that’s all the speculatary nonsense I’ve got for today. This turned into such a patchwork of vaguely linkable thoughts I’ve had which barely relate to the one I started with - but that is usually how it goes. Take it as you will…

Also, completely unrelated to YJ, but Bi Tim Drake now exists in dc canon which is really cool - seeing all of the joy it’s sparked has really given me something to smile about this week… There is hope after all. 🌈

— LB ⚡️☀️

* OK so here’s a little random snapshot into the chaos of my mind— as I was writing the Ed stuff I had a scene pop into my head of Ed finally -for whatever reason- having to tell his dad that he didn’t leave his abuelo’s home - he got kicked out. His dads confused about this and asks Why? What did you do? And Ed’s like Nothing… I didn’t do anything wrong… he just… found out something. So Seniors like Found out what Eduardo? And Ed’s getting really nervous now because he doesn’t want to say it - That I, um… I’m… Senior step a fraction closer as he picks up on Ed’s anxiety but remains an appropriate distance - Son? Then after a tensening silence he finally says it - sounding the most vulnerable he has ever been - I’m gay… The silence is there again, heavy and unnerving, neither saying a word. Ed can’t move as he’s lock in his elders unreadable glare. Expecting the worse his head drops to take in the floor - anything that isn’t the disappointment ahead - he feels the urge to disappear burning up inside him - consuming him. Then just as he’s about to escape he’s suddenly grounded by a steadying hand rooting itself on his shoulder. Tentatively he lifts his gaze to witness his father, there, with nothing but love and support in his eyes - Mijo. The clamping in his chest dissipates as all the tension escapes at once, along with the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Ed embraces his dad and the elder embraces his son. Together. A family.

Anyway. That’s probably a load of rubbish but hey my minds full of it… but basically I really want to see a tender moment between Ed and his dad. For whatever reason. Something where Ed’s in a vulnerable state and in need of some emotional support from his father - and without hesitation his father steps up - because that’s what we haven’t seen from them yet. It would perfectly portray the strength of their relationship as father and son - despite their previous struggles - and prove that Senior is willing to support his son no matter the situation as the father - not just the scientist. Its the final step in their healing journey and I wanna see it so bad!!

[kaistarus]

The Only Exception

Pairing: NishinoyaXReader

Words: 2.2K

Summary: Nishinoya was genuinely happy with his life. He’d gotten used to being by himself and had accepted the fact that that was how it was supposed to be. Until you came along and threw everything he thought made sense out the window.

A/N: I really like this fic. It’s one of my favorites Nishinoya ones so far just because it’s his pov and timeskip and the amount of love feels makes me happy. i got a lot of serotonin while writing it :D

Masterlist

Nishinoya had never been someone’s first choice.

He knew that sounded dramatic, but it was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, Tanaka could chug three-fourths gallon of milk before vomiting, and Nishinoya was never anyone’s preferred option--which never bothered him so keep the pity to yourself.

He learned to accept this when he never got scouted for the All-Japan Youth Camp and after the only person Nishinoya ever even kind of loved ended up loving his best friend. It taught him to keep his expectations low and to focus on things he could control, which was what led him to solo-traveling Japan and then the world. He realized things might be better on his own, and with the constant itch that he was missing out on something bigger traveling alone just made sense.

But then you came and ruined everything.

Hold on. That came off way more aggressive than Nishinoya wanted. He meant there was a perfect vision for how his life would go-pyramids in Egypt, Hollywood sign in Los Angeles, deep sea fishing in Italy-until he toppled over you in the streets of Italy. He’d been sprinting toward the docks when you stepped out of a marketplace and he collided into you, knocking you flat on your butt and sending your groceries all over the sidewalk. Nishinoya fumbled through his best apology in broken Italian while shoving produce into your paper bag, but froze in surprise when you snorted rather than began an enraged lecture.

He swore his heart actually stopped when your eyes met. You were clearly amused by his flustered behavior and when his heart started back up it was abnormally fast. Not once had he understood what Tanaka meant when he explained the first time he’d seen Kiyoko, but the first time Nishinoya saw you everything Tanaka said clicked. If Nishinoya had been fifteen he probably would’ve proposed to you on the spot.

But he wasn’t, so instead he shakily handed you your groceries with furiously red cheeks.

“Come ti chiami?” You asked with a raised brow.

Nishinoya blinked several times. He racked his brain for what he’d been taught on his last fishing trip, but it was mostly curses and inappropriate sayings he should probably avoid using. He was pretty sure Duolingo mentioned ‘chiamo’ as name though.

“Nishinoya?” He answered like a question and felt relief wash over him when you nodded.

“What are you doing this weekend, Nishinoya?”

He stared blankly before pointing at you with wide eyes, “I understood that.”

“Well you obviously don’t know Italian,” you rolled your eyes and he pouted at the incredibly accurate jab, “so, are you free?”

He looked around the empty street before pointing to himself. “Are you still talking to me?”

“Is there another Nishinoya around here?”

“I mean, there could be.” He looked up thoughtfully. “The odds would be crazy though.”

You laughed lightly which made a warmth creep up his neck. “I’m talking to you. I’m trying to ask you on a date.”

He looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “Why?”

“You’re attractive and you seem nice,” you cocked your head to the side. “Is that not a good reason?”

He stared at the ground intensely. “I guess… It is?” Then his original reason for being there struck him and his eyes widened. “Oh shit. I have to go,” he started leaving before quickly coming back. “Wait, I, uh, yes. Yes to the date thing.”

You chuckled, pulling a cellphone from your pocket to let him hurriedly create his contact before continuing his sprint to the docks-with a teasing recommendation not to knock anyone else over. That literal run in was the moment his entire world view became out of whack.

It wasn’t that he thought he was immune to liking someone-high school Nishinoya fell for any breathing human that gave him attention-he just lost the ability to imagine someone liking him. Maybe he’d been by himself too long or maybe that was just another fact he’d grown used to. He didn’t know anymore.

He did know that when he showed up at the restaurant thirty minutes early-there’s only so much pacing someone can do before they go insane-he hadn’t expected to see you. Just sitting on a bench beside the main entrance, looking too perfect while bouncing a knee and nibbling on your thumb nail as if you were nervous to be there.

Except it was only him, so that wouldn’t make sense.

“Hey,” you said when you spotted him standing in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot.

“You’re here,” he raised a brow. You took it as the time, but he meant it in a general sense. He truly hadn’t expected you to show up.

“Oh,” you chuckled awkwardly, twisting the material of your clothes. “Yeah, I was kind of nervous.”

He mulled that over for admittedly too long, but it just seemed like such a stupid thing to say. It wasn’t that you looked stupid, but that’s what made it so confusing.

“You’re also early.” You pointed out when the silence became awkwardly long.

“I was nervous.” He said like it should have been obvious.

“At least we’re starting on equal ground,” you said with a shaky breath.

Equal ground? He wasn’t sure his brain was cut out for this type of critical thinking. He’d even spent the past few days planning for every scenario-even you sneaking out the bathroom like in the movies-but he never pictured you being nervous.

“Uh, yeah,” he tapped against his leg while glancing through the window at the half-filled dining area, “we can probably go inside.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you gave him a quick finger gun before whipping around with shoulders to your ears.

Nishinoya blinked several times before looking back down the street. A part of him thought about running, saving you both from the shitty date to come filled with awful conversation starters he’d pulled from an online article for high schoolers. However his fate was sealed the moment you sent a gentle smile over your shoulder and his feet began following you through the door without his permission.

Ever since that day he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ever since you giggled behind your hand instead of wincing at the terrible jokes he regretted the moment they left his mouth; ever since you weren’t burdened by the need to translate for him the whole night; and ever since you were amused rather than annoyed at his nervous rambling and awkward icebreakers.

It was just too good to be true.

Like the first time you came over and teased him for the cheesy dialogue in his favorite action movies. How his chest ached when your head rested in his lap and you gazed at him with overwhelming amounts of affection. He’d never dreamed he’d have this-couldn’t have if he tried. Sharing his favorite things with someone while they traced designs against his palm and occasionally sealing them with featherlight kisses. The fire it sent up his arm was too much and not enough and he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted this.

It was a little scary how much Nishinoya didn’t want to lose it.

And that thought started keeping him up at night. Nishinoya was never really scared of anything-it was kind of what he was known for everywhere he traveled. If anyone needed something done they asked the foreigner with a death wish. So, the idea that you had that effect on him was, again, terrifying.

But what was Nishinoya supposed to do when you press your forehead against his in the middle of the night? Running your fingers through his hair and paying special attention to the blonde strands he’d always been secretly self-conscious of, whispering low how they were one of your favorite things in the world. How could he regret anything when you rubbed your nose lazily against his and kissed him softer than he ever deserved? He didn’t give a shit how scared he was if it meant he could stay like this, with you, for as long as you’d let him.

Because his heart raced a million miles a second when you mindlessly held his hand under a table or leaned against him just to be close. Because for some reason he was the first person you called when you were excited or when you needed comfort. Because when he rambled too long about spearfishing or an old friend’s volleyball game your eyes lit with genuine interest rather than annoyance. And because he was in love with you.

Which he both wasn’t prepared for and had known was inevitable. Falling for you had been like getting hit by a semi-truck he’d seen coming for miles.

It probably happened sooner than socially acceptable, but that didn’t surprise him given his all or nothing nature. This outcome was decided the moment Nishinoya knew he’d be fine with you breaking his heart a hundred times if it meant he could keep waking up next to you cascaded by the rising sun because he was still too lazy to invest in curtains. Just you cuddling closer to him for warmth in your sleep would make every ounce of pain worth it.

Once Nishinoya’d acknowledged his feelings it was nearly impossible keeping them down. With every breathtaking smile, or brush of your hand against his, or bubble of laughter that rang throughout his apartment it nearly spilled from his lips like a breath. It took all self-restraint he had to hold it back. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want you to know because you deserved this piece of him-every piece of him.

He just wasn’t sure you’d want it.

His resolve lasted nearly a month-a month longer than he thought he was capable-before the feeling was too intense for him to keep down. And it wasn’t anything drastic that made him break. No, it was something so absurdly casual that he was almost pissed at himself when the words flowed from his mouth.

It had been a completely average morning, nothing crazy, the weather was actually gross with rain pounding against the windows and the sky a depressing shade of grey. But then you stepped out of his bathroom while rubbing the sleep from your eyes, giving him a lopsided smile before slurring a soft request for breakfast. It was like time froze and he was in a stupid romcom except you were there so it was actually an oscar nominated masterpiece.

Your head lolled to the side, half-lidded eyes filling with concern at his silence. “We can cook together. I didn’t mean it like-”

“I love you.”

That seemed to wake you up. Your body straightened while your mouth hung open in stunned silence. Nishinoya had expected this kind of reaction, so he clenched his fists tight in preparation for the worst.

“Are you sure?” You asked, barely above a whisper. “That’s a pretty serious word, Noya.”

He knew that. Nishinoya had spent too many nights losing sleep over that.

“You scare me,” he confessed, deciding if he was going to dig his grave he might as well make it deep. “I’ve never really been the one someone chooses. More like deal or settle with.” He grimaced when his heart squeezed painfully in his chest, “but I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone and that scares me. You make me feel wanted and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Because I do want you.” You whispered and his stare locked on yours so quickly, meeting your loving gaze while his heart started racing. “And everyone you know must be really stupid because I feel lucky I got to choose you. I get to love you.”

He stared at you wide-eyed while his chest swelled with so much emotion he was surprised he hadn’t passed out.

“Sorry, that sounded really lame.” You placed a hand against your forehead and Nishinoya shook his head vigorously.

“I think that was the greatest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You stepped closer and cradled his face, gently brushing your thumbs along his cheeks. If he wasn’t so manly and awesome he may have teared up, but he definitely didn’t. Which was why you obviously weren’t wiping any water off his cheeks before pulling his lips against yours.

Nishinoya set a languid pace that turned desperate when you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled you as close as he could, which was never enough, snaking an arm around your middle and sliding one to cradle the back of your head. 

When it got heated enough that he decided he’d very much like to move it to his bedroom Nishinoya’s stomach growled and you snorted against his lips. Nishinoya pouted, whining when you pulled away with a playful smirk.

“Later,” you said, pinching his cheeks and waving his head around. “Food first. We’re both hungry.”

He did love food.

He disrespectfully watched you leave him in favor of searching the fridge for food that could be thrown together for breakfast. A dopey smile covered his lips because he loved you. He was lucky enough to get to love you. And for some ridiculous fucking reason you were dumb enough to love him.

He would do whatever he could to keep it this way. For now, that was helping you cook breakfast. Tomorrow, who knows? But whatever it was you would be there, so it would be pretty god damn amazing.

[waveypedia]

The Real Deal

Ao3

Lena comes to the Nine-Tailed Diner just often enough for the waiters to know her face, but not often enough for them to know her name. She prefers it that way. The anonymity is comforting, but she knows in her gut it’s just an illusion when the waiters give her familiar smiles as she slides into her usual spot in the corner.

There was a time, before she met Webby, when Lena would scowl and duck her head away from the waiters’ friendly greetings. Where the mere notion of being noticed would make her gut churn and blood boil.

Not anymore.

Lena taps her carefully manicured nails against the smooth table as she waits, watching the cozily bustling diner. She’s not usually one for nail polish, but Dewey was just so excited when he saw the color that perfectly matched her magic, and despite her snarky exterior she couldn’t say no to Dewey’s infectious excitement when he bounced up to her with the bottles of nail polish. She smiles at the memory.

If Lena from a year and a half ago could see her now, she’d be unrecognizable. That’s not such a bad thing, Lena muses.

She pulls out her phone and quickly scrolls through social media, smiling when a picture of Webby pops up on her feed. Webby doesn’t post much, but when she does, just seeing her face never fails to make Lena smile.

The noise of the city and the harbor outside eventually fades into a calming white noise in the back of Lena’s mind. She’s used to the city. It was her home for fifteen years. But the sound of a particular car pulling up to the curb jerks Lena out of her thoughts, and she presses her face to the window, filled with an almost childlike glee.

A familiar car, light green and blocky and just as eccentric as its owner, putters at the curb. Lena can only see into the drivers’ side, but she snorts as she spots a familiar stupid-looking hat and chuckles to herself. Soon enough, a familiar face pops out from the other side of the car, looks to the corner window expectantly, and waves enthusiastically. Lena grins and waves back.

The bell on the diner door jingles, right on schedule, and Lena’s friend nearly sprints over to her booth.

“Hi, Lena!” Boyd chirps, and Lena grins.

“Hi,” she responds, significantly less energetic but with the same sentiment behind it.

Every month, Lena and Boyd meet at the Nine-Tailed Diner, just the two of them. It started one day when it was supposed to be all of the kids, but the McDuck kiddos were called away on an adventure, Violet had a school project, and Gosalyn was busy in St. Canard. It doesn’t take a genius to recognize how similar Lena and Boyd’s unique situations and backstories are.

Lena didn’t realize how lonely she was until she had someone who shared her experiences.

Boyd rubs at his elbow. It’s a nervous stim, and Lena’s attention is piqued. If Gyro said something insensitive to him again, well, he may be tall, but he’s a skinny twink, I can take him—

“Lena?”

Lena bites back a swell of nervousness and feigns casualness. “Hm?”

“How… do you feel about Webby?”

Lena blinks. “Well, I like her. You know that, dummy.”

“Yeah, but… how does that feel? You know… liking someone?” Boyd won’t meet her eyes.

Lena frowns. “What do you mean? Doesn’t everyone feel that way?”

Boyd stares at the table, lip trembling, and Lena ponders.

She doesn’t entirely know how to describe how she feels about Webby. Before Webby, it was just her and Aunt Magica. The two of us against the world, Lena always told herself, but it was always the world against Aunt Magica, with Lena sandwiched in the middle. And then she grew to hate Magica as well, like she always should have. For so long, Lena only knew hatred and apathy, whoever it may be directed to.

And then she met Webby.

And then she met Webby, and everything changed.

Webby was—is—a literal ray of sunshine. When Webby’s smiling face pops up in Lena’s view, when her bubbling laugh or high voice makes Lena’s heart sing. It’s stereotypical and cliché beyond belief, much to Lena’s chagrin, but that’s how she feels . If Huey offered her a thesaurus he must have stored in his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook somewhere (that thing has everything — it’s kind of ridiculous, honestly) she wouldn’t change it. There’s no other way to describe it.

“I… don’t know,” Lena hums. “Just… whenever I see her, I instantly feel better. It’s free serotonin, y’know?”

Boyd hums in acknowledgement, and after a moment of semi-awkward silence Lena continues.

She’s never been all that good about putting her feelings into words. She’s not particularly wordy like Huey, and she doesn’t have Violet’s extensive vocabulary (although she’s picked up quite a few words and phrases from the Sabrewing family). Not that she cares about it. It makes these kind of conversations difficult, though. But for Boyd, she will try.

“She was the first person to ever care about me,” Lena muses, fidgeting with the hem of her oversized sweater under the table. She’s had it forever. It feels like home, in the same way Webby does. “She has a special place in my heart. She was my first friend, but it’s different than my relationship with the boys, or Vi, or you.”

Boyd nods and avoids her gaze. He’s unhappy with that conclusion, although Lena can’t fathom why.

“So… by that logic,” Boyd begins, “I should be in love with Huey, right?”

Lena shrugs. It is true that Huey directly parallels Webby in their respective situations. “However you want to define it, dude.”

Boyd flexes his fingers. He’s still unhappy.

“Look, I’m not gonna judge you,” Lena says, snorting slightly and raising her hands placatingly in front of her. “I know homophobia is A Thing, but I literally just talked extensively about how I’m head over heels for another girl, so…”

“Homophobia is terrible,” Boyd responds finally. “I genuinely do not understand how people could think such a thing! How does one act so cruelly to another just because of something so trivial as sexual orientation?”

Lena presses her lips together. “Beats me, dude.”

After a moment, she adds, “So what’s your problem, then?”

Boyd’s head jerks up. “Huh?”

“You’re clearly disappointed about something ,” Lena says, gesturing with her arms and raising her eyebrows. “I know you well enough, ‘cause of these dumb meetings. I’m just gonna point out they were your idea.”

Boyd smirks, ever so slightly. “You love them, though.”

Lena looks away and crosses her arms pointedly, but allows the smallest of smiles to slip through her mask. Boyd cackles at that.

“But seriously. What’s botherin’ you?”

“By all accounts… I should feel that way about Huey. I don’t care about genders, and I feel differently about him than I feel about you and the other kids. But saying I love him, it just doesn’t feel right.” Boyd rubs at his arm.

“Hey, that’s fine!” Lena replies. “That’s kinda how I feel about labels, y’know? Webby likes ‘em, but I don’t.��� She narrows her eyes and leans forward with her elbows on the table. “Is Huey pressuring you? ‘Cause if he is I’ll—”

“No! Nononono, Lena, it’s fine,” Boyd chuckles nervously, raising his hands placatingly in front of him. “If anything, I guess I’m pressuring myself. Logically, based on all accounts I have consulted, I should be in love. But…”

Lena gives an exaggeratedly frustrated sigh, making Boyd chuckle despite himself.

“Look, Pink tells me aaaaalll the time that my magic isn’t logical. Especially friendship magic. It follows its own rules, and it’s about looove and the power of friendship or whatever. So cheesy. But I guess your love might be the same thing.”

Lena takes a deep breath and leans back in the diner booth. “Stop pushing your feelings into dumb little boxes they don’t belong in. They won’t fit.”

Boyd smiles at her, small but not muted. “Thanks, Lena.”

Lena glances away, staring pointedly out the window. “Whatever. Don’t expect it to happen again.”

Boyd just giggles at that. His laughter is frustratingly infectious, and after a moment Lena finds herself chuckling alongside him.

The rest of the afternoon flits by, and for the life of her Lena cannot recall what they talked about. But their first topic of conversation, and Boyd’s worry, sits heavy on her mind for a while to come.

--

When Doctor (unofficially, shh, if the news got out that he had never finished his doctorate because of those ridiculous geese Gyro would be ruined ) Gyro Gearloose secured a job with McDuck Industries, he did not expect his precious lab would be run afoot by small children. Not even by Fenton, who acts more like a small child than some of these literal small children sometimes.

It’s almost closing time, but that has never mattered to McDuck Industries’ research branch. Even if Fenton and Manny go home eventually, Gyro has spent weeks on end in the lab. He will outlast them all.

Well, he used to. Before his team and his boss dragged him out to see the sunlight. And before Boyd.

For the record, Gyro did not forget about closing time. Not this time. He was working with that infernal little rodent, who, along with the blue nephew, had somehow wormed Mr. McDuck into allowing her to take some freelance work in the research department. Gyro’s department.

...He did have to admit that Gadget Hackwrench was frustratingly proficient at mechanics and machinery. Especially since she was so small. She was a great help to Gyro’s newest project, which required a lot of rough mechanical know-how.

Gadget, unlike the rest of them, was not incredibly self-sacrificial and actually liked clocking out when she was supposed to. She had to go home to her Rescue Avengers, or whatever they were called. Gyro couldn’t wrap his head around her way of thinking.

So they were tinkering away at the panel of the machine when Gadget glanced at the clock and reminded him of her obligations. She was packing up when Boyd came in.

“Dr. Gearloose!” Boyd, chipper as ever, entered the lab and bounced up to Gyro’s workstation. He was a bundle of energy, reminiscent of the blue and pink children. His hands darted around him like a hummingbird, never quite staying in one place long enough for Gyro’s tired brain to process. After a minute of unconsciously trying to watch and comprehend it, Gyro glanced away and rubbed at his forehead under his glasses while Boyd greeted Gadget with the same enthusiasm.

Wait. Was it really enthusiasm?

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Gyro watched carefully as Boyd flitted around Gadget, mentally comparing his movements and stims with what he knew of happy Boyd. And yes. It was off.

Gadget packed up, and Gyro slowly but carefully placed his wrench down and turned to face Boyd, leaning against his desk in a facade of casualness.

“So.”

“Can you fix me?”

Gyro pinches the bridge of his nose. “What did you do?”

Boyd clasps his hands nervously in front of him. “No. No. Nothing! I just… I know how I’m supposed to feel, but I don’t feel like that! So I must be broken!”

Gyro stares at Boyd like he’s grown a second head —- which, with Gyro’s robotics, is actually plausible. “Pft, you’re not broken. You think you could be broken?! I made you, kid. I fixed you up after Akita tampered with you. The great Gyro Gearloose does not make mistakes.”

Manny taps something unsupportive, and Fenton and Gadget both —- purposefully badly —- hide their laughter. Gyro screeches something incomprehensible at them. It doesn’t matter what he says; the point gets across.

Boyd is still staring up at Gyro, with that hero-worship puppy-dog look in his eyes that he wears so well, and he looks so scared that Gyro’s heart twists. His body sags, and he sighs and rolls his eyes and gestures for Boyd to follow. He perks up, and is immediately at Gyro’s heels with a characteristic grin, but his hands are trembling. Did he teach himself to do that?

Gyro kneels in front of Boyd, behind his desk, and stares into his eyes. Not in a symbolic way —- if he focuses just right, he can see the circuitry in his head.

Gyro purses his lips. “Everything looks fine. I told you I don’t make mistakes.”

“But—- But Lena’s in love with Webby and Dewey’s had three crushes in the past month and I don’t feel anything like that, ever! Lena says it’s fine but she’s had one girlfriend and that worked out for her perfectly and I’m happy for her and Webby, I really am, but I don’t know how to make it work for me and it must be some sort of error in the programming and I—-I just want to be a real boy!”

“Whoa, whoa!” Gyro shoves his hands in front of him reflexively. He pulls them back, out of Boyd’s face, when he processes and realizes how overwhelming that gesture could be. Boyd buries his face in his hands. “You are a real boy.”

Boyd gives him a tiny nod and doesn’t respond. Gyro’s throat feels tight and constricting, bile building up inside. He wants to say something and break the tension and silence, but he doesn’t know what or how.

“Love isn’t everything,” he says lamely after a minute. “I didn’t fall in love until Fenton, honestly. Not for real. Della said something about ‘demiromanticism,’ whatever the hell that is, and she says Mr. McDuck is the same way, but honestly I don’t really care. I don’t need to compartmentalize and hyper-analyze every aspect of myself that way. But if you want to, you could talk to her. Or the red nephew. He’d know.”

It’s weird, being this open and honest about his thoughts and feelings that aren’t inventions and blueprints. A part of Gyro is screaming at himself to close, shutter the windows and pull the walls back up and raise the prickly spikes to defend against anyone who dares get close. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, really.

Strike that. He knows why. It’s Boyd . He’ll do anything to bring that kid’s sunny disposition back. And he knows why he’ll do that, too.

“Demiromanticism?” Boyd places a finger on his chin and tilts his head ever so carefully to the side, testing out the feel of the word. “What’s that?”

Gyro shrugs lazily. “I dunno. Some fancy way of saying I only want a relationship with people who get close to me. Which is a very exclusive circle.”

Boyd pauses. Blinks. Gyro can nearly see the wheels turning in his head. “If there’s a term for that, do you think… there’s a term for going all the way? A term for never wanting a relationship?”

Gyro raises his eyebrows. “Probably.” He reaches for his phone. Boyd could search for it in his internal search engine (proudly programmed by Gyro two months ago, since search engines didn’t exist twenty years ago, but for the record if he had thought of it Akita hadn’t had him on such a tight schedule he could have done it. For the record.)

“Aromanticism,” Gyro muses, reading out loud. “The lack of romantic attraction. Does that sound about right?”

“Hmm,” Boyd puts his finger to his chin again. “It fits! I like it!”

Gyro smiles, that soft and gentle smile reserved exclusively for Boyd (and Fenton, sometimes). “Perfect. Now get out of my lab. It’s past closing time.”

Boyd sticks out his tongue, playful. “Like you care. Don’t stay up too late!”

Gyro just smiles in response and resolves himself to not make any promises he won’t keep.

Boyd gives him a quick, tight hug goodbye. He always gives hugs, to say hello and goodbye and everything inbetween, and Gyro is never quite prepared for them, although he certainly doesn’t mind them. Gyro isn’t very comfortable with touch or affection in general when it doesn’t come from a select few people, but he never protests. Boyd is one of those “select few people”.

If today’s hug is a bit tighter and longer than usual (but still brief, since Boyd knows well how Gyro clams up with physical affection, even if it’s from him, and he respects that), neither Boyd nor Gyro say a word.

Boyd says his goodbyes to the rest of Team Science (Gadget is long gone by now) and skips out of the room. “I can’t wait to tell Huey about this! He probably knows all about aromanticism! It’s probably in his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook!”

Gyro leans against his desk, the cuffs of his shirt catching on the corners. “You do that, kid.”

“And Lena! She’ll be happy to know I figured it out, even if she won’t say so!” Boyd chirps. “Thanks, Dr. Gearloose!”

Gyro’s wry smile turns into something monumentally more sincere and real. “No problem, kid.”

The elevator dings and Boyd is gone. Gyro used to revel in the lab’s silence, but even with the background noise of Fenton, Manny, and Lil’ Bulb tinkering away at their respective projects (and decidedly not saying anything), it feels uncomfortably quiet without Boyd’s incessant chatter.

He hums softly to himself and picks up his phone to call Della before she hears about this from Huey and berates him for not telling her right away. He puts on a new pot of coffee for when he comes back, and lets Fenton know he’s going on his break.

“You know the workday technically ended half an hour ago, right? You don’t need me to clock you out,” Fenton replies, grinning. He can read Gyro like a book.

Gyro rolls his eyes and grumbles under his breath, but waves his former intern off.

As he walks out, he pictures Boyd. He would be sitting in the limo, brimming with excitement, tapping his fingers eagerly on his legs with barely contained enthusiasm. Launchpad picked him up for a sleepover at Mr. McDuck’s, so by this point he should be almost home. He’ll burst into the mansion and spill his discovery to Huey before he catches his breath, and he, Huey, Webby, and Violet will make a board and a list of thoughts and information on aromanticism while Dewey tries to catch popcorn in his mouth and Lena and Louie add snarky comments. They’ll all chime in with their own experiences and eat lots of sugary snacks until they eventually fall asleep in a pile of pillows and blankets and each other on the living room couch. Boyd will come into the lab on Monday and tell him all about it, and maybe Huey will as well.

Gyro smiles fondly to himself as he steps into the hallway outside of the lab and leans against the wall, pulling up Della’s contact on his phone. The tab on aromanticism is still open on his phone, and he scrolls through it idly, taking note of all the information and how it could relate to Boyd.

He’s not fit for this role in Boyd’s life. But he loves Boyd, so he’ll do his best. And Dr. Gyro Gearloose’s best is a feat they tell tales of.

Across town, in the mansion, sitting on her sleeping bag in her pajamas and sneaking handfuls of gummy bears behind Violet’s watchful eye, Lena shares a similar sentiment. Boyd explains what he’s learned, bursting with excited energy in the form of overenthusiastic gestures, and Lena wonders why this little, enthusiastic kid decided to choose her as a sister figure.

But she’s not complaining.

Lena sneaks another handful of gummies and wraps her arm around Webby, who makes a bright, contented sound and snuggles into her side. No, she’s definitely not complaining.

~

i wrote this almost a year ago actually, for the Because We're Family LGBTQuaranzine! (@ducktaleslgbtquaranzine) This is a nonprofit pay-what-you-want zine, with all of the money going to DirectRelief, a charity dedicated to Covid relief in countries that have been hit hard by it. I had a lot of fun working on this zine and this particular piece, and I worked with a lot of great people. The zine is chock-full of amazing pieces and really talented, skilled people, and all the proceeds go to a reputable cause. I cannot recommend it enough!

this piece is pretty close to my heart because it encompasses a lot of my favorite things - weblena, lena & boyd friendship (they have SO many parallels i think they would get along so well!), and gyro being a father to boyd! in all honesty, this was my very first zine and i was really nervous, but i had so much fun writing this and i'm grateful it was such a good experience!

a lot of boyd's confusion about aromanticism is taken straight from my self-realization process. that's some good ole projection, baybee! i didn't have anyone like huey, but it's certainly difficult to figure out what romantic love really is and how that affects you and your relationships. it's like a puzzle. it's not explicitly mentioned in the fic, but i'm autistic, and boyd is pretty heavily autistic-coded (and god i could go on for hours about that, and i have before, but i'll spare you all the tangent, although i'll happily talk about it if you want me to), which adds this whole other obstacle when figuring out aromanticism, because we struggle with social relationships and fitting them in boxes. sometimes labels feel really comforting and satisfactory, but sometimes it's a real puzzle to fit into these boxes that weren't always made for us. sometimes they fit, and sometimes they don't. it was pretty fun exploring that from a slightly different perspective, as well as putting some of my own thoughts and experiences into words.

if you ever wanna talk ducktales, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here or on my twitter! thank you for reading, and please leave a like/reblog/comment (i read tags) if you enjoyed it!

[utterlyinevitable]

5,30 for Ethan x MC throw in all the angst you can ! Thank u 💖

5. things you didn’t say at all 30. things I wish you’d said

From the things you said prompt list. Send me a pairing and number and I’ll write a mini fic!

this fic has gotten way longer than intended.... 

---

Narcissus Sent a Package

Rebecca Lao walked to the Diagnostics Office ready for her shift. She was overjoyed that things started to become semi-normal between her and Ethan after she called him a diva and spoiled brat outside their patient’s house two days ago. She was thankful the awkward tension dissipated. 

Through the glass door she could see, sitting on the round table, where the team of Baz, Becca, June and Ethan met multiple times a day to deliberate on cases, was a basket. A gift basket of a large bouquet of flowers and a box wrapped prettily with a bow. 

The air around the office became strained almost immediately upon Becca’s arrival. 

June stood at the table and immediately turned to the resident, manicured thin eyebrows raised, as she walked in. Ethan was sat at his desk, attention on whatever lay before him. Baz was in a chair eying the basket with an embossed card addressed to the youngest member of the team. 

“You have an admirer,” he spoke. Baz’s eyes were alight with intrigue - this was the most interesting thing to happen in months. 

Becca’s brows furrowed together. Since when did anyone send gifts to the team? Who did she know that would send such a display? 

She crossed the distance to inspect the gift basket. As she reached for the card she got a waft of sweetness from the fresh flowers - A bouquet of sweet pea and daffodil. The pinks and purples and yellows really complimented one another, and looked so out of place in the minimally modern room. 

To herself, Becca read the words on the thick, definitely expensive, ivory card printed in black calligraphy;  

Dr. R ‘2nd is the best’. But I like to think third time’s the charm. Looking forward to it.  - T

The color drained from her face. 

He wouldn’t. 

The entire drunken escapade from weeks prior came rushing back to her all at once;

She knew she shouldn’t indulge another endeavor with the handsome stranger. It was a disaster waiting to happen. God, she hated the way this man smiled - like he was a python devouring her whole. But in the dim light of Donahue’s, Bryce’s encouraging winks and nods from a few stools down, and the free drinks pouring, maybe a dance with the devil was exactly what she needed. A bit of mind numbing sex never hurt anybody, right?

No; 

This wouldn’t hurt Becca, or him, but in time it would hurt Ethan.

'Caroline’ downed her drink and gave Reggie the signal for another shot. Tobias and she clinked glasses as she weighed her options one final time. 

Then they made their way to the bathroom. 

Her eyes flitted from the card to the purposeful gift and back again. 

He did. 

And the intention behind it washed over her. 

Shit.

“Wow, Becca. I didn’t think you had it in you,” June appraised, pulling the resident back to the room of awaiting bystanders. 

Becca folded the card back up and placed it far away from the others reach. “What?” she responded, slightly dazed by this complete and utter spectacle laid out before her - the brazen flaunt of distrust.   

June’s tight smile was all too telling. “Tobias,” she nodded towards the card and raised her eyebrows, “I’m impressed.” 

Of course she read the card first. 

As much as Becca wanted to smack that smirk off of Dr. Hirata’s face she refrained. It wasn’t worth making a scene. The damage was already done. June pulled the trigger with that transparent remark. 

Of course she purposefully said his name out loud.

A pager cut through the gross tension coating the diagnostics office. It was Baz’s and he wordlessly fled the scene. 

“Excuse me,” June left the room in his wake, leaving the inevitable drama to unfold. 

Body tense, Becca hesitantly moved to the present. It was weighted, much too heavy to be a box of chocolates. Stupidly, she stole a glance at Ethan. He was sitting straight up, body turned from her, face stoic and doing his best to be uninterested.  

She went to pull back the glossy purple paper, revealing the gift. Becca managed to uncover it halfway before everything clicked. 

Staring back at her was a sparkly, aged bottle of amber scotch. 

“I...” she pulled the rest of the paper back to reveal the name. 

Fuck. 

“I don’t think this was meant for me.” 

Her words were loud and clear and ringing off the furniture, vibrating all around him. 

And Ethan’s cover was blown; 

“Wha-” he finally looked over at her, curiosity getting the better of him.  

She turned to him and held up the box, “It’s your favorite.” 

He didn’t miss the regret in her eyes. It was a darker amber than the expensive liquid she held. Her tight lips, pressed together and the light flush on her cheeks told him it was true. 

The woman he fell for was involved with Tobias Carrick. 

Ethan moved across the office quickly and with intention, coming just close enough to Becca to inspect the bottle. He did his best to keep a semblance of space between them.  

He held the box in his hands. Inspecting. Deliberating. Letting his mind draw up as many conclusions has possible. 

Her voice cut through, “I didn’t even tell him my real name.”

It was an decibel above a whisper, and not the consolation she meant it to be.

Ethan’s eyes were trained on the scotch. His features unmoving and frozen in place. The only sign of life was the small rise and fall of his chest as he attempted to swallow the lump in his throat.      

Becca wished she hadn’t said anything. Wished that she just took the bouquet and unopened scotch back to her locker so no one had to know her personal business. More than anything, she wished she didn’t do it. She wished she let Tobias Carrick stay that nameless man in the club and pretended not to remember him at Donahue’s that night. 

“Why on earth would you sleep with my ex-best friend, my rival?” It was more rhetorical than anything.  

“We hooked up that’s all.”   

They didn’t have sex. Thank God. 

They were interrupted by loud rapping on the door and Reggie’s voice calling for them to “get another room”. As they put their shirts back on, and Becca was free from Tobias’ warmth between her legs, realization set in. Her heart wasn’t in it. She couldn’t do it. Becca denied going home with him and hoped to never see him again. 

Unfortunately for her work forced their hands.   

Ethan couldn’t help but let the a few careful emotions seep through as he barked, “What does that even mean? What does this mean?” He pointed between the flowers and the scotch. 

Becca could feel the bottled up anger emanating off of him. And frankly, it pissed her off. 

Ethan chose to sever any romantic ties they could have had in the name of her professional growth and ethics. It was his choice. As much as Becca didn’t agree, she respected his decision. She’s tried so hard to move on. 

“Okay,” She held up her pointer finger ready to unleash the truth. “The first time I had no idea who he was! He was some rando at a club.”

It took everything in Ethan, every morsel of self control, to keep from asking when the first time was. When she first succumbed to his rival and how many times there were after that. How long after they slept together the night of her hearing did she jump into bed with someone else? How long after kissing him his first night back did she invalidate every single thing she ever said about wanting him? 

He’d rather know about her salacious escapes with the scalpel jockey than with the likes of Tobias Carrick.

“And we did fool around in the bathroom at a bar a few weeks,” Becca continued her explanation on how she came to know the olive skinned stranger. “Then at the Bloom’s it clicked.”  

During her entire soliloquy Ethan didn’t falter. He didn’t even acknowledge her person. His mind moved faster than her explanations. He dissected every word falling tastelessly off her tongue. He weighed the truth of each sentence and collected every scenario hiding in the subtext.  

Becca watched as he mulled. At least, she assumed, he was marinating and assessing her words. Ethan was a statue in front of her. Eyes darker than she’s ever seen and hollow. Devoid of emotion as they stayed locked on the offending item in his white-knuckled hands.  

She wished he would say something, anything. Any words, even venomous ones, would be better than the sullen look on his face. 

Becca thought things were getting better between them; she thought they were making progress. All their differences aside, they were getting along. They were becoming better friends. Becca was one of the rare few people Ethan could actually trust. 

And now... 

With a rueful huff he unceremoniously freed the bottle of its confines. 

Ethan’s mind was reeling - racing a mile a minute as their bodies stood frozen in place. As their bodies protected themselves.

First she weasels her way into his life, driving him to distraction and making him fall for her. She frazzled his mind with intrusive thoughts of her, so strong he needed a sabbatical. Then she’s dismantling the fundamentals of his team, everything he and his mentor worked their careers to build. Now, he feels as if he never really knew her at all. 

Tobias Carrick always coveted everything Ethan Ramsey had; even after their medical school years ended, the distain still existed. Ethan could handle it all - every single dig and undermining being thrown his way. He learned to rise above the schemes every time Tobias tried and failed to outdo him. Ethan Ramsey was capable of moving on, forgetting everything without a second thought. 

Everything except for this. 

This was the one thing he could never overcome. She was the one thing Tobias could win at. 

It never even crossed Ethan’s mind that Tobias could have her too. Even worse were the thoughts of how Tobias could have found her. Did the universe bring them together just as he assumed it divinely brought her into his life? Was he always destined to have to fight with Tobias for all he earned? 

Ethan noted how he could never be narcissistic enough to send a one-night stand a gift basket.

Yet what made Ethan stir the most was how unashamed and brash the gesture was. Aside from the subtext, Ethan could never bring himself to send the woman of his affections flowers - their dynamic was far too complicated for Ethan to send Becca a token of appreciation. 

So he grasped the bottle firmly by the neck and pulled it out of the box with an unsatisfying creak. 

With one blind, emotional action Becca had unknowingly ruined everything they had or could ever be. Ethan Ramsey will never come second to Tobias Carrick. Ethan may have had Becca first, but with her dubious action she made her choice. 

It wasn’t him. 

He carried the bottle back to his desk and sat down.  

“What’re you doing?” Becca questioned from the place she’d been stuck standing in for what felt like eons. Her eyes blinked rapidly as if what she’s been experiencing was just a nightmare and at some point she’ll wake up. 

But this wasn’t an illusion. They both knew that. 

This was how it ended. 

How something that barely even began washed away with the stream of regret.  

“Exactly what Tobias intended,” he half-shrugged. Bending down, pulled out a crystal tumbler from the lower drawer of his desk. “I’m drinking it.”

The nonchalance of his tone scared her. It was late afternoon and Ethan Ramsey was about to have a drink. 

She was about to comment when he spoke first; 

“You’re dismissed.” 

It was definitive. 

He cracked open the bottle and poured a hearty serving, spinning around in his chair to look at the x-rays he’s already seen just so that his back was fully to her. 

Becca wanted to speak, to say something to make things better. 

It was a mistake. 

Back in those days she needed something, anything, to help her get over her all consuming feelings for Ethan and thought Tobias could help - that a random stranger could help numb the pain just a bit longer. 

She wanted to tell Ethan everything - every single thing that led her to the moment of weakness. 

But what was the point in telling him how much his disappearance and constant rejections hurt her? How many times can she tell him she’s fallen in love with him and her heart breaks every time they can’t be together? How she regretted the stranger the moment he had his hand up her skirt. How in the middle of Bloom’s living room her heart stopped beating when Tobias came to light and he learned of her true identity. 

How could she apologize for all of that? 

She was sorry, but sorry wouldn’t change the past. 

It couldn’t change anything. 

________________________________________

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[keijikunn]

Memories ─ part ii

── A @celestialarchiveshq collab “Connected by fate”

Pairing: Semi Eita x fem!reader Tags: college!au, kinda angst i guess, fluff, SLOW BURN, maybe strangers to lovers!au Summary: On the last day of the year, you dream of your soulmate’s most impactant memory that happened within the year. Each memory will be different each year. Word count: ~5.4k

Author’s note: Second part is up guys! Hope you all enjoy it, and please let me know what you're thinking so far! Reblogs are appreciated <3

WARNINGS: insecurity, mention of injury (it’s a broken arm), self-esteem issues, let me know if I forgot anything

MEMORIES’ MASTERLIST

2005 (age of 11)

The gymnasium was filled with the sound of the sneakers against the hard wooden floor, constant screams of “left!”, “right!”, “block!” and occasional cheerings when someone scored a point. Your soulmate was excited for practice as usual, the love he felt towards volleyball was huge, and the bubbling sensation on his stomach gave away he was excited for something. 

“Boys, gather up!” The coach called the team near the benches, everyone sitting on the floor in front of the man. “It’s time to announce which positions you’ll play for the next season, and possibly for the rest of your middle school years.”

A list of names got called, the younger ones assigned to variate between a couple of positions; the older ones were mostly spikers or middle blockers. With naive eyes, being able to score points for the team was euphoric, as if the weight of the world was on their shoulders. Your soulmate waited restlessly, a part of his mind wandering on his arduous training, trying his best to achieve his dream position in the team.

He called his name, eyes quickly to find his coach’s face. “You’ll be the on the start lineup as setter.”

Your soulmate gasped, his lips quickly turning upwards as he smiled in ecstasy. His close friends lightly punched his back and arms, congratulating his hard work. All the boy could think was his father’s words about how your efforts are paid back, just like his guitar classes. He thought about the countless practices he tried his best to improve, asking tips to his coaches and seniors, tossing a ball against his bedroom wall - only to hear Aime complain about it during dinner. 

It felt good, amazing even. He understood the concept of working hard perfectly, after experiencing it twice. Something inside him made himself feel unstoppable, as long as he has his determination to do better, he could achieve every and anything he ever dreamed about. Your soulmate had never felt such proudness of himself before, and he had every reason to feel like it. 

2006 (age of 12)

Semi’s relationship with his relatives was good, all his uncles and aunts were nice to him, his older cousins never really bothered him and the younger ones were funny to play tag games. However, the boy wasn’t excused of having a certain degree of dislike towards his same-age cousin Touma. Being born in the same year was great when they were little, playdates worked well and they’d always make each other’s company during boring adults reunion. 

Things started to change once they got older and started elementary school. Touma was constantly praised in his school, claimed as the best student in his year, with almost perfect scores and impeccable participation in events. Semi used to be happy for his cousin, but the feeling changed once the other started to brag about himself, belittling Semi’s achievements and efforts. 

After that, their relationship was never the same, and both of them knew it. The thing was that their mothers weren’t aware of the sudden change of affection between them, resulting in regular Sunday lunches over their place. It was uncomfortable the silence between them, the pair sitting on opposite ends of the large sofa, doing their best to ignore the other’s presence. 

“Aunt!” Touma called Semi’s mother, a too innocent smile on his face. “Did mom tell you that I’m the best student in my school? And the teachers want to subscribe me in a Math competition?”

“That’s great to hear, Touma-kun! You’re really smart!” His mother cheered way too excited, Semi noted, and the boy tried to recall every time he had big news to tell if his mom praised him like she did with his cousin. 

“Even the director talked to me about changing a few classes, saying Touma is capable of attending advanced classes.” His aunt gushed with pride. “And he’s even the best player in the soccer team!”

“Wow, Touma, you’re really amazing!” Semi was undeniably jealous at how easily his mother complimented someone who wasn’t her own son. He was furious at her, at Touma, but especially at himself for not doing better to receive the same praises. 

“I’m naturally good, aunt! I don’t have to study or practice more to improve.” His cousin stated, sending Semi and side look in a provocative way, like inciting him to fight back. “And what about Eita-kun?”

“Eita always tries his best in volleyball and guitar practices,” his mom started, fidgeting with the cloth she used to dry the washed plates. “He’s a hardworking boy, right, Eita?”

“Yeah…” he muttered in response, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. Did his mother lie to him about working hard on what you love? To earn her compliments he should be a genius, be born good at that thing and that’s that? 

The rage inside him was replaced by disappointment, even sadness. His parents lied to him just to make him happy because he was their son, it was their obligation to hype their children even if they weren’t that happy. Semi wondered if his mother would’ve lied to Touma if he was her son - and the answer came quite easily: she wouldn’t, because she had no reason to do so. 

At that moment, everything he believed started to fall apart. His concept of being good, of worth of praise and recognition. Years of proudness were thrown away in mere seconds, a mentality Semi built to face every challenge destroyed in the worst way possible: by his own mother.

I bet mom wanted a son like Touma, she’d replace me easily. 

I’m not good enough, am I?

The following days after the first rehearsal you had with the band, you and Semi met up more often to talk about your project, what you have so far and what do you wanted from him. Although Semi didn’t spare snarky comments towards you, he was cooperative and even suggested a thing or two. 

“So, what’s the lyrics?” Semi asked, both of you were in a small café near the campus. His long and slim fingers tapped the wooden table, while his left - and injured - arm rested near his body. 

“Well,” you started, offering a sheepelesly smile. “It’s your story, you should write it.”

“It’s your project, Y/n.” He tried to correct you, closing tightly his jaw in annoyance. Overall it was quite easy to read the singer’s body language, it being more expressive than his words. 

“My project is to produce a song - which I’ll do when you come up with the lyrics.” The man didn’t seem to be convinced, but either way let out a long sigh, bothered by the situation. “Whatever you want to tell the world, any suppressed feelings, I’m all ears to your ideas.”

Semi visibly was taken aback at your choice of wording, mouth slightly slacking and his brown pupils quivered as he lowered his gaze to the table. You knew it was rather dangerous to suggest something like that, giving the fact he resisted for a while before agreeing to help you. On the other hand, though, it was your only chance to get what you really wanted: a song filled with the deepest and rawest emotions. 

Much like your soulmate, the man in front of you closed himself from the others. The last 10 years, you dreamed about a very hard tempered, isolated and hurt boy and you didn’t truly understand those feelings. Semi, in your judgment (that you acknowledged could be completely wrong), gave off the impression he might understand him. Perhaps through Semi, you would be able to comfort your soulmate, because regardless of his belief or not in being destined together, you needed to do anything to sooth his doubts.

“Semi-san?” A male voice broke the silence you two fell into without noticing, lifting you head, you saw a rather tall guy standing by the side of your table. He sported a sharp and uneven haircut alongside with a tired expression, though his eyes were wide opened in surprise. 

“Oh, Shirabu.” Semi breathed out the name, also surprised by the sudden encounter. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah…” the awkwardness between them made you fidget in your seat, averting your eyes from them to look straight into your cup of coffee. “How- how are you doing?”

“Fine, actually- and you? Heard you were accepted in med school,” the singer commented. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” 

“Oh, uh- Y/n, this is Shirabu.” Semi introduced you two as you briefly exchanged a polite ‘hello’, a bit awkward by the situation. “We used to play in the same volleyball team during high school.”

“Oh, nice.” You reacted slightly rushed, the tension between the two previous teammates was growing as the seconds passed by. “Was Semi a good teammate? I’m playing support in his band and I can say he’s quite demanding.”

“Yes!” Shirabu exclaimed quickly, his nervousness showing off. “Semi-san was a good teammate and a respectful senpai.”

“Though you respected Wakatoshi the most, right?” Though you presumed Semi said that to joke around his underclassman, at some instance you felt bitterness hidden behind the playful comment. He laughed half-heartedly as Shirabu panicked to give him a proper answer. “I’m joking, relax.”

“I have to go, actually,” the younger man stated, offering the two of you an apologetic smile. “I have another period to attend… Anyways, it was nice to meet you, Semi-san, Y/n-san. Bye!”

“Take care!”

“Bye.” 

Semi relaxed his whole body after hearing the front door close, running his right hand through the ash locks of his hair. You observed him shift on the chair, too immersed inside his own thoughts to notice your analytical gaze on him. 

“Do you mind me asking why you look so shaken up?” Your voice was soft and lower, as if the choice of volume would prevent Semi from getting angry at you. 

“He used to play in the same position as me.” Based on the few knowledge you had about volleyball, you assumed it was possible for two players to share the same role in the team, so you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “We both were setters, he took my place on the start lineup.”

2011 (age of 17)

The third years arrived late at practice and the coach, even though knowing they had extra classes, screamed at them to change quickly. Unphased by the outburst, Ushijima, Tendou, Semi, Reon and Yamagata did as they were told so in order to start the warm ups. Each one of them took their position on the court, ready to practice their main abilities; however, Washijo called out Semi and Shirabu to the sidelines, a serious expression on the older’s face. 

“Semi, I’d like you to focus on your serves from now on.”

“What- why, coach?” Semi asked surprised, closing his hand into fists angrily. 

“Shirabu will be the main setter of the team.” Washijo stated, and for a moment the world has stopped moving in Semi’s perspective. “You’ll be the pinch server.”

“It’s not fair, coach! I’m-” the words died in the boy’s throat, giving up on arguing with him. Throughout the years he’s been trained by Washijo, Semi knew his decisions were made to improve the team’s strength and chances to win. Nothing would make the coach change his mind. “I understood.”

He bowed to Washijo and Shirabu before turning back to head to the end of the court, getting closer to those who were practicing their serves. Semi took a ball from the cart, smacking it to hit the floor a couple of times before tossing it into the air to serve. On the other side of the net, the ball landed near the fifth position, but the thought of scoring a service ace didn’t soothe the burning rage inside of him. 

Once again Semi was told right in front of him that he’s not good enough, he wasn’t needed on the court to articulate all the offensives against the opponent team. Of all people. He was subbed by an underclassmen. Semi Eita, a famous setter during middle school, who was accepted at Shiratorizawa through a sports scholarship. 

Angry tears stung his eyes, but he refused to let them slip through his eyelids. No, Semi was too proud to let anyone see how frustrated he was; he wouldn’t give Shirabu the satisfaction to see him break down, even though his junior could not think like that. 

Years of hard working, training every single day to improve his tosses, every time he bent his fingers during practices. All for nothing. Semi felt stupid thinking that it would be enough, he should have learned years before with Touma. Efforts don’t take you anywhere if you’re not a genius. He should have known better. 

Serve after serve landed perfectly in spots other teams’ defense would break: between the first, sixth and fifth position; so close to the sidelines some players would think it would be out, just to be surprised by the referee pointing the flag to the ground. However, it wasn’t enough, not for Semi. At that moment, no service ace would make up the thrilling sensation of setting the perfect ball that leads the team one point closer to the victory. 

It was unfair how he was subbed during his third and last year in that team, after that season he would retire from the club’s activities and solely focus on university entrance exams. Washijo should know how he feels, especially because the coach himself couldn’t play because of his height. So why has he done that? 

His gaze unconsciously fell over the main court, where the spikers were practicing with Shirabu. Semi desperately searched for any fault in the setter’s tosses, in his posture and even in his movements around the other players, anything to point out to the coach as an excuse for him to change his mind about the situation. What angered the boy the most was the fact Shirabu had such clean moves and a great analytical vision - he was way more competent that Semi himself in the matter of technique.

What took the biggest toll on him, though, was seeing Ushijima and Reon hitting every toss with such ease and power. Their performance was better than when Semi was the official setter, he couldn’t recall any practice or game both spikers were surpassing their usually good performance. That made everything clear to Semi: he couldn’t bring the best of his teammates as a setter, he wasn’t skilled enough to help his team on every offensive. He had to accept it.

There will always be someone better than me, Semi thought to himself, panting from tiredness. I’ll never be the first option for anything, I should have known that.

You’re pathetic, Semi Eita.

End of October, 2017 (current time, age of 23)

To say you were nervous was a understandment, you’ve never performed in a live house before - and it definitely wasn’t like school presentations, as you tried to convince yourself. The fact that those people in front of the stage weren't there to actually see you helped a bit to calm down your nerves, though not enough to prevent your hands from shaking. 

“Don’t tell me you’re actually nervous, Y/n.” Semi teased you, earning a whine from you. The singer was relaxed - it would surprise you if he weren’t - with his arms crossed over his chest, carefully enough to put his right one over the other. He was looking good, you admitted to yourself, with black jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather black jacket. “You’re a music producer, you shouldn’t be afraid of the audience.”

“Firstly, I’m not a music producer,” you started angrily, narrowing your eyes at him. “And secondly, that’s why I chose to learn how to produce songs, because I won’t perform them.”

“You can either focus on a dot ahead of you, ignoring all eyes looking to the stage or,” he stepped closer to you, bending down a little so his mouth reached closer to your ear. “You can just look at me.”

You stepped back in surprise, feeling your cheeks heat with the exaggerated flow of blood through your veins. Semi laughed at your distressed expression, leaving you behind to search for his bandmates in order to prepare themselves to go on stage. You had no idea if the guy teased you on purpose or not, but it was effective: you were no longer anxious to be in front of people, but because you’d be next to Semi for at least 30 minutes. 

The moment you dreaded the most arrived sooner than you thought, a staff from the live-house ushered you four to the stage. Akihiko sat behind the set of drums, positioning himself comfortably to start; Takeshi plugged the bass on the amplifier, adjusting the volume as he strummed the cords. Semi stood in the middle of the stage, pulling the microphone stand in front of him up to get it closer to his mouth. Your hands worked quickly on setting up your guitar, earning you enough time to pay attention to the audience’s noise through the closed curtains. 

Before you could get lost in your own thoughts, a fixed and intense gaze on you pulled you out from overthinking. Semi’s brown eyes looked straight into yours, and somehow you felt a wave of calmness wash over you, deafening the sparse chattering around you. His lips formed a small smile, and differently from the sarcastic ones he usually offers you to mess around, it was genuine. 

“You can do it, relax.” He mouthed, you barely caught the words as the staff crew announced the band and the curtains opened. Returning the smile with a nod, eyes diverting its focus to Akihiko - who beat his drumsticks four times, starting the presentation. 

“Thank you so much for coming tonight!” Semi said on the microphone after the last song of the setlist, earning back a wave of screams and claps. “And special thanks to our support Y/n.”

The sudden attention you received startled you, but your response was to simply smile and bow to the public. You weren’t feeling shy at that moment, the adrenaline in your veins even made yourself enjoy the positive response from the public. As Akihiko came towards the stage and thanked everyone, the staff closed the curtains and Takeshi - who was closest to the exit - led the way out. 

“You did amazing, Y/n!” Akihiko beamed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. 

“I was so nervous, though!” You laughed with them at your answer. “But it was a good experience, I enjoyed myself out there.”

“Great, because you’re in the band for a couple more shows.” Semi announced with a smirk, only to that morph into a bigger smile. “I still have a few weeks with the cast and physiotherapy to attend… you better enjoy the spotlight, rockstar.”

All of you burst into laughter, heading to the backstage room you got ready before. The boys encountered their own friends in the process, and while you didn’t know any of them, you decided to organize your own stuff. Soon, your guitar was securely inside its case, a couple of makeup products were stored in the small bag you brought and your cellphone was stuffed in your backpocket. 

“Eita-nii!” A new, and loud, voice bursted into the room. The girl - who you presumed was Semi’s sister by the honorific she used - ran towards the singer, wrapping her arms around his body. The man himself reciprocates the gesture, although shyer than her. “You and the boys were great today! Oh- and who is that girl who played support? You’ve never told me it would be a girl! I thought you’d invited Kaito.”

“Hey,” Semi said louder, looking at you. The unsaid invite to come closer made you get up from your seat in the corner and walk towards them. “Aime, this is my friend Y/n. Y/n, this is my annoying younger sister, Aime.”

“Nii-chan!” Aime whined, quickly dismissing her brother as her attention focused solely on you. “You did so good on the stage! Eita has never told me he was friends with anyone new, let out a girl. I thought he was that antisocial that had only Akihiko and Takeshi-kun as friends.”

“I mean,” you giggled at Aime’s rambling, she was the complete opposite from her brother, which was endearing to see. “I didn’t know Semi considered me as his friends, once he thought I was hooking up with Akihiko.”

“What the hell, Semi?” The drummer jumped in the conversation, a grimace on his face. “I’d never do anything with Y/n- gosh I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Should I say you’re the stalker who would leave me alone if I sang for your project, then? I can still change the status.” Semi teased you, in response, you lightly punched his left arm. “By the way, what are you doing here Aime? Don’t you have a curfew to follow? Does mom and dad know your whereabouts?”

“I’m not ten anymore, Eita!” She let out a huff in annoyance. “I’m twenty, remember that? A college student that has every right to enjoy herself on a Friday night after a tiring week.”

You let the two siblings bicker between them, taking in that new side of the singer you’ve never imagined he’d have. The usually cold, snarky boy also had a soft spot for his sister was also the common overprotective, caring older brother. You had to admit the duality in Semi’s personas suited him, and you felt like another side of his mysteries was presented to you. 

“Well, I have to get going…” you announced gathering your things up, hearing Takeshi and Akihiko’s protests. “I booked a studio early in the morning, I want to be productive, not a literal zombie going over a few samples. Not to mention the last bus will stop by soon. Thank you so much for your hard work, guys! And also, it was a pleasure to meet the better Semi, Aime.”

“I barely know you but I’m sure I’ll like you!” Aime hugged you, while Semi scoffed ironically. “Hope we meet again soon, Y/n!”

“Wait, let me grab my coat.” Semi stopped you from leaving the room after saying goodbye to both Takeshi and Akihiko. “I’ll take you to the bus stop. Who knows what could happen in the middle of the night?”

“And what will you do? Hit them with your cast?” You sassed, the man rolled his eyes, taking the small bag from your hands. 

The two of you left the live-house in silence, enjoying how the loudness gradually decreased and the city noises overtook your senses. You started to feel tired from the show just now, your eyelids were heavier than usual and your shoulder muscles ache due to the tension and nervousness you were feeling. Either way, you felt good, performing was nice - though if you had to choose, being inside a studio felt much more comfortable. 

“You did well today.” Semi spoke out of blue, with your peripheral vision you analysed him. His head was upwards looking to the sky, the corner of his mouth was tugged in a small smile and his posture gave off the feeling he was feeling satisfied. “You were so nervous before going on stage, but when we started, you looked like you’ve performed before. You have a talent.”

“It was the adrenaline.” Both of you laughed at your comment, silencing yourselves as you arrived at the bus stop. It was empty, which was expected given the fact it was almost one in the morning, so you took a seat next to each other. “I never imagined you were the protective older brother…”

“Trust me, you’re not the first one to tell me this,” he scoffed jokingly, a much softer expression adorned his face at the topic of his sister. “Aime is just… something else, you know? As her older brother, I think I have to shield her from being hurt - even if it means I get hurt”

“What, have you punched someone in the face because of her?” You joked, only to the laughter die on your throat at his positive response with a nod. “You’re kidding me, Semi!”

“I’m telling the truth!” He protested, a frown appearing on his face. “Some boy thought he could call my sister a bitch and leave unpunished. It was my very first fight, but as Aime’s brother, it was my job to teach that little shit a lesson.”

“Bet he punched you in the face, as well.”

“Yeah, but,” Semi stopped talking, inhaling deeply before turning to you. “You saw how she is, I- I can’t never let someone take it away from her. Nobody is allowed to hurt her like…”

“Like…” you tried to encourage him to speak after a few seconds, only for him to sigh tiredly and give you a meek smile. 

“Nothing… guess it’s just the cliché older brother talk,” the way he avoided finishing his original train of thought didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you let it go to not cause further embarrassment. As the two of you entered in a comfortable silence, you saw the bus turning into the main avenue. “The princess’ carriage has arrived, my lady.”

“Thank you very much for protecting me, my knight in shining… arm cast.” You giggled at your lame joke, taking the bag from his hands. “I’ll talk to you soon… regarding the project and stuff.”

“And don’t forget we have rehearsals.” Semi reminded you, getting up from his seat. The bus stopped in front of you, the two of you stared at each other not knowing what to do. Before you could turn and hop on the vehicle, the man ruffled your hair with a mischievous smile. “Good night.”

“Good night, Semi.”

1997 (age of 3)

The white corridors seemed to be longer in Semi’s perspective, his young perception didn’t allow him to estimate how long he'd been walking with his grandparents on that floor. What buzzed in his mind was the new piece of information grandma told him before leaving the house. 

“Let’s visit mommy and Aime-chan, Eita-kun.”

The boy was still confused why his mother had to go to a hospital to meet his younger sister - even though his parents had innumerous talks about this special day. Nevertheless, Semi was excited to see mom and dad after a whole day without them - and to finally see Aime. 

Grandad knocked on the door, gently pushing it open so Semi could walk in. The sight of strange wires and tubes on his mother’s skin scared him, bumping into the older’s legs. Sensing his distressed expression, his father came closer to him, scooping the little kid in his arms. Semi hid his face on the crook of his dad’s neck, avoiding eye contact with the starling objects near his beloved mom.

“Eita,” her smooth voice called him, he lifted slightly his head to meet her eyes, only to hide again. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Mommy is hurt…” he whispered, pointing to all the equipment near the bed. 

“No, buddy, mom is not hurt,” his dad denied, tapping lightly his back as an invitation for him to look around. “These things are making sure mommy is doing fine, she’s been pretty tired, remember we talked about it? How would Mommy feel tired after Aime left her tummy?”

An unknown whine filled the room, making Semi lift his head to search for the source of said sound. His eyes eventually fell on the tiny baby on his mother’s arms, opening and closing her mouth as little noises escaped through her thin lips. 

“Aime?” Semi pointed out, suddenly feeling curious. His father sat him down next to his mother, letting him have a better view of the baby. “Aime is small!”

“Yes, she is, sweetheart.” His mother agreed softly, pulling the blanket slightly downwards so her son could see Aime’s face. “But soon she’ll grow bigger, and you two can play together. Will you share your toys with her?”

“Only if she doesn’t drool on them!” His statement made everyone laugh, but Semi couldn’t care less, too entertained with his sister. “I love Aime.”

“You have to protect her as the older brother, Eita.” His father told him, coming closer to them. Semi nodded excitedly, lowering his head to leave a kiss on Aime’s forehead. 

2012 (age of 18)

All Semi could see was red as he approached Aime in front of a café. She was accompanied by her friends and some stranger boy, who was awfully close to his baby sister. The words a fellow classmate told him before they left the dorms for winter break rang through his head. 

“Hey, Semi, I heard a guy from another school has been hitting on your sister for a while. My friend told me she’s pretty bothered by him.”

“Aime!” He screamed, heavy footsteps marking his way over the thin layer of snow. The said girl turned around, a mixed expression between relief and fear on her face. Stopping in front of the boy, Semi opened a bit more his chest in order to look more intimidating. “What the fuck do you want with her?”

“None of your business, dude.” His voice was coated with anger, the short phrase said between gritted teeth. “I saw this beauty first, back off.”

“And I said I’m not interested!” Aime piped in with a squeak. 

“You heard her.” Semi stepped closer to him, locking eyes with the stranger. “Get lost.”

“This little slut is playing hard to get.” The world seemed to stop spinning, Semi took a second to process what that guy had the audacity to call his little sister. “I dare you to say this after I-”

He couldn’t finish his words as Semi threw the first punch right into his left cheek, knocking him to the floor. Kneeling next to him, the pinch server proceeded to get a firm grasp on the collar of his coat with the left hand, while his right one collided with the boy’s face repeatedly. Semi could hear at the back of his head people screaming at him, Aime calling out his name, but nothing would make him stop until that brat learned his lesson. 

The other boy managed to get a hold of himself, punching Semi on his sides - who lost his breath and received another hit on the face. On his tongue, he felt the taste of his own blood - and he wasn’t able to distinguish where it could be from: either from his lips or the inside of his cheeks. With his knee, Semi returned the blows on his ribs, quick to sit himself on the boy’s stomach. 

Every punch he gave seemed to increase its power, shifting between his nose, cheeks and mouth. Semi has never felt so enraged before, just remembering what he had called Aime made his body warm with adrenaline and wrath. 

“I dare you to call my sister,” Semi muttered between huffs of air, feeling difficulty to breathe in and out due to the intense body movement and the pain on his sides. “A slut again. I fucking dare you!”

Before he could do anything else, two men held him back, making sure to wrap their hands on his arms, and lifted him up. Semi, in his last act of anger, kicked the boy laying on the floor aimlessly. The other boy was aided by another man, refusing his care to get up and look straight into Semi’s eyes. 

“Watch out, asshole, I’m getting back to you.”

“Be ready to have a fucking broken nose.” Semi mocked him, and before he could continue his threats, Aime appeared in front of him with tears stained over his cheeks. “I was the one who got punched and you’re crying.”

“Are you insane!?” She asked distressingly, knocking on his chest - which made him lose his breath. “Why would you do that?” 

“Isn't it obvious?” He asked, gently freeing himself from the men’s grasp. “I’m your older brother.”

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[sanvitheartificer]

time for “I’m gonna screw up my courage and post creative ideas, i guess”  latest little interest-drift is Megamind, which i DID see once, when it came out? I should rewatch it, but that would require tracking it down, and i’m pretty sure I’m going to be bored of the movie by the time I can make myself do that.  I mention this because this is going to be.... nooooot well researched, i guess? like I’m going off fanfic and vague recollections of a movie i watched 10 years ago and i refuse to double check anything because the POINT is to be honest about what I’m thinking about without having to make it well-put-together. 

so, this is a fun idea! but not a good one. 

anyway: concept for a fic i’ll never write! it’s a post-canon time-travel fix-it story where Megamind saves his planet. I’m Pretty Sure that Megamind universe specifically doesn’t allow time travel/a redo button, BUT i have a way around that.  once i read a really interesting harry potter fic wherein George saved Fred. in HP time travel seems to work okay, as long as you’re doing something that you already did -- Harry sees his future self saving himself, for example. So in this fic, George went back in time, hid from everyone in the past, and made Fred’s death look exactly like he remembered -- but secretly saved him. It had always happened that way; Fred had never actually died in that battle; everyone just thought he did. And then George took Fred back to the future! and he was alive after that, just missing, like, a year of his life or whatever. (i might be getting which twin dies mixed up and i’ll tell you what: i literally don’t care)  This has always been a fascinating concept that I’ve wanted to use in something, and a universe like Megamind where I’m (pretty sure?) they say “reset buttons aren’t a thing” is perfect for it.  So! Post canon, Megamind is a hero, is traumatized, is dating Roxanne, etcetera. at some point “I’m literally the last of my species and so is Minion” comes up. 

Roxanne... wonders. about this. it’s horrifically traumatic, of course, and he did say that thing about reset buttons being impossible, but... also. also? she’s seen a LOT of impossible things, lately. She asks Megamind some subtle, theoretical, “just curious” questions about time travel. What, exactly, is impossible about it? 

You can’t change what’s already happened, he says. Paradox. The time-space continuum won’t let it happen. Trust me, I tried. You can... you can go back, but you can’t change anything, all you can do is, is, walk around an empty field maybe, at the most. 

He looks so sad at that that she stops pushing. But Minion keeps records of almost every experiment they’ve ever tried, every machine they’ve ever built and she has access, now, and... it could work. She’s just human, she’s not sure, but she thinks maybe it could work, she could give him -- give him a world, she laughs, a little hysterically, because sometimes people say “i want to give them the moon” and that’s supposed to be hyperbole and this is -- this is even bigger, somehow, what is she even thinking -- 

but she keeps thinking about it. is the thing.

megamind goes quiet, still, when she finally brings it up, and roxanne flinches but meets his gaze. she won’t back down from this. not when it’s this, not when there’s a chance she could save a whole world. two worlds, even!

he’s angry, and he’s scared, and minion at his side isn’t playing peacekeeper like he normally would, because minion looks just as angry, or maybe even more. 

how could you, minion says, roxanne, how could you, and roxanne flinches but she meets his gaze, and she has never seen minion so angry in her life. 

tell me it won’t work.

she looks, steady, in both their faces, caving in with a grief bigger than she can imagine, the anger of a hundred trillion billion lives, just gone. 

Tell me it won’t work, and I won’t -- I’ll -- I can’t make up for telling you this, for asking you this, she says, I can’t, but I’ll say what I can, I’ll do what I can to fix it. But first tell me it won’t work, that it’s completely impossible, because if it’s possible it’s -- it’s your world, and her voice cracks, because she can’t say anything bigger than that, because there is no poetry in the universe that could contain a loss that immense. 

and megamind shakes his head, and minion’s fists are clenched so hard the metal creaks, and neither of them. says. anything. 

Megamind discovers, after figuring out how to compare earth time to time thirty years in the past in another part of space, that the black hole actually should not have destroyed his planet for an hour. after what he remembers. it’s not... clear, of course, because anyone who was close enough to measure this accurately is dead. but. but it doesn’t match up, and maybe it’s his calculations, or his memories; he was eight days old; maybe he’s wrong 

(maybe he’s not. maybe there’s. maybe there’s a possibility.) 

and once he’s started thinking about it he can’t stop. of course he can’t stop. it’s his world, every person who looks like him in the whole universe, it’s -- he’s lived on earth his entire life, but this is -- 

Megamind starts theorizing about making something that looks a lot like a black hole, that could transport entire planets through time. he starts doing experiments. if you take something forward -- if no one knows -- 

it seems to work, somehow; it’s so complicated that even Megamind isn’t entirely sure why, or how, this will work. he can’t stop a black hole, but maybe he can swallow up his world, steal it away before it gets a chance, maybe he can -- he thinks of his parent, saying, “you are destined for -- “ and laughs and laughs because maybe what he destined for is! is this! to destroy his entire planet before the black hole even gets there! maybe he is -- maybe he is -- 

but the thing is. there will be a device. a very large device, and he’ll have to somehow simulate a black hole swallowing two planets whole, he’ll have to find some way to yank them all forward; he needs someone who’s impossibly strong, who can move fast. an hour, an hour (57 minutes 33 seconds 12 milliseconds --  will it be enough? could it possibly be enough?) they could arrive sooner but no one can see them and even he can’t sustain a jump for very long, not when they want to bring two planets back with them -- he needs. wayne. he needs metro man. 

they talk. sometimes. it’s awkward. wayne hasn’t gotten any better at guitar, even though it’s been three and a half years, now. megamind still doesn’t like him, but... well... he’s. metro man. they’ve always been something to each other, and it’s harder to give that up than he ever would have expected. besides, roxanne likes it, when they talk. she doesn’t like metro man, either, but she thinks he’s someone, too, was friends with him for a long time. it’s wrong, somehow, to just never talk to him, terrible music and decades of enmity and horrible betrayal of a faked death or not. 

on very rare occasions he even has semi-kind-of useful-ish advice about the whole “hero” thing. minion still refuses to acknowledge metro man’s continuing existence, but megamind is... he’s not. angry, or sad, that he didn’t actually die, that megamind didn’t actually kill him. whatever he is, it’s not sad. 

roxanne is there, when they talk to wayne. even minion is there, angry, angry, angry, but there, asking. 

wayne laughs. megamind asks him to help save both of their planets, billions and billions of sentient lives, and he laughs, like it’s a good joke, and roxanne thinks that this is the evillest laugh she’s ever heard and minion somehow looks even angrier than when she first brought up the possibility and he’s still -- he’s -- how can he possibly be this -- 

c’mon, he says, you’re not serious.

wayne is. he’s stupid, but he isn’t this stupid. roxanne pretended to date him for long enough that she recognizes the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice. 

wayne is terrified. 

megamind looks ready to lunge at him invulnerable or not and minion just goes blank and roxanne grabs wayne’s arm, like she’s back at one of the endless fancy galas and he’s just said something thoughtless to the mayor, and she smiles with teeth, and she says, give me a minute alone with wayne, will you? thanks. 

they step aside and she rounds on him. 

they were serious, and you know it, she says, calm. that was cruel, she says, like she’s talking to a child. like she’s talking to someone who doesn’t know better. 

i, he says, and doesn’t complete the sentence. 

you. don’t have to help, she says, although the words scrape her throat; they can’t do this without him, and it’s not her world but it is -- it’s megamind’s world, it’s minion’s world, and she’s spent so long thinking -- trying to figure this out -- listening -- some days she can almost see it, before the black hole, before anything -- billions and billions and billions of lives -- but she is a reporter and she is used to talking neutrally about things that are not neutral at all so she says, you don’t have to help. but you can’t... don’t make fun of them. don’t pretend like it’s not serious. this is their home world, it’s their whole species, it’s, it’s your -- 

wayne interrupts her. THIS IS MY HOME, he roars, and he is frightening, now, three heads taller than roxanne already and floating three feet off the ground. this is! i! i’m! human!

his voice breaks. wayne never was a good liar. 

this is my home, he says, weakly, but wayne never was a good liar, and this time he isn’t lying at all. 

roxie, i’m tired, he says. i’m so tired of being the hero -- being the only one who can -- what if they don’t like me? he says, and he looks like a child, again, and he sounds like a child, again, an alien who could pretend, could pretend really well, but was never really -- 

wayne never was a good liar. except, of course, when he was lying to himself. 

wayne, she says, wayne. i won’t lie to you. this isn’t... fair. to ask you. you’re not a hero, anymore, and it’s not... fair. but. but... 

she takes a deep breath. 

you have a home. here. and you won’t. you won’t lose it, okay? I’m still your friend, and your parents are still, still your parents, still the people that raised you. we’re... we’re adding things, okay? we’re not taking them away. 

and you’re -- i’m so, so, so sorry wayne, but you really are the only one who can do it, this time. 

they are quiet, for a moment. and then roxanne says, quietly, have you ever heard him sing? 

wayne looks confused, past the anger, past the fear. he shakes his head. 

he only knows a few songs. they didn’t... he... he knows a few songs. he’s sung them for me, and told me what they -- wayne. there were sunsets, there, over the sea, the whole world lit up in red and blue and gold shining the ocean vibrating with music, and he says -- he told me, once, that your world had mountains, bigger than any of earth’s mountains, and once they lived at the very top, they -- 

stop, he says, soft, in all the ways wayne never is, 

music man, she says, don’t you want to listen to the music you never got to hear? 

stop, he demands, glass-fragile. 

he only knows a few songs, she says, bleakly. and her voice is like a black hole that wayne cannot remember, empty, empty with its impossible fullness. two entire worlds, and he only knows a few songs. 

okay, wayne whispers. 

okay. 

i’ll help. 

[cerberus253]

The Long Aldrich Fanfiction Nobody Asked For (Aldi x Reader(F))

READ IT BEFORE TUMBLR TAKES IT DOWN

Table of Content (If ya just want “certain” parts):

- Set Up, “Only moments ago you were found out” - Meeting Aldi, “Almost like waiting for that request,” - Foreplay, “Aldrich beautifully chuckles.” - Cunnilingus, “Oh yes, my dearest scruple of nourishment!” - Intercourse, “Aldrich licked his lips as he watched you” - Blow Job, “Aldrich leaned back and layed down” - Resolution, “Thou looks as if finished.”

Only moments ago you were found out to be slinking in the once market streets for whatever you could scavenge. Unlike the average resident of Anor Londo, you cannot solely survive on little to nothing, for you are a rare delicacy in these parts of the forbidden land. As far to your knowledge, you are the only living human for miles, and from the reactions of the elite, it is worse than rare. From what you have witnessed, everyone kills everyone who is foreign to these parts, however, when you were kidnapped, murder was not the goal. Death would have been a quick and easy extermination, but you felt something dreadful was being planned for you by how careful they were not to mortally wound your body. You struggled and grabbed anything you could use to fend yourself, but the undead were far too strong and knocked you unresponsive.

Regaining consciousness, you could not see. Your hands were bound behind your back and you had a ringing in your ears. With ungraceful movement, you stir by accident and alert your captors. They placed you on your feet and forced you to walk. By the sound of shuffling, you guessed you were surrounded. You had no idea where they are headed, but it must have been far away from the market because you were freezing cold from the amount of time spent outside. It was eerily quiet, even for this desolate kingdom.

Finally, you sensed the entering of some building. By the sounds bouncing within, it was lofty and elevated, which meant one thing: stairs. You already have a habit of falling down stairs and it has not happened for months, but this lucky streak might end. Using this as an excuse to be annoying, you state the fact to the soldiers, to which they ignored. Eventually you did manage to trip on some steps, and because you were bound, you could barely help yourself to get up. A few more scenes of this the soldiers finally gave up and carried your grinning self the rest of the way up.

The tower was absurdly tall. You felt the air around you grow thin and drop temperature even more. The armored knights did not put you down, for there were more of your worst enemy, until you were directly in front of the door.

Almost like to return the favor, they dropped you on your back with a loud ‘thud.’ Forced to get up on your own, it felt warmer in this newfound building. Pyromancy is a familiar ability, so maybe that had something to do with the sudden temperature change. Prayers are heard from the distance in the echoing halls, and large beast sounding feet are heard mucking about, coming closer. If it was not for the blindness, you would not of been scared of a monster acknowledging you, for you have become so used to terrifying creatures they have become normal, all the way to the point where you are fascinated by the array and colorful variants of beasties; you have even become friends with a couple of them! This one, however, came far too close for comfort. You felt the musky and heavy breathing from this animal’s gaping maw. It must have recently eaten something because you were about ready to vomit by the pure stench of flesh. Luckily, it was just curious about you, and the soldiers had you move forward across the vocal filled structure.

The knights stop you in front of a large wall, which then revealed to be a door once opened. Whatever room you are about to enter was no ordinary living space. You could hear the jumbling and disgusting squish of who knows what, but your best guess was pure bone and flesh because it reeked of it, even worse than the previously met creature’s. The smell was so vile that your eyes watered. A few seconds later, you are unable to smell anything. You could breathe clearly from it, but apparently the stench was so bad it fried your sense of smell. Despite the vast danger that will highly happen, you were oddly, and silently, impressed.

Sloshing through the unknown muck, the captors drag you some feet into the room, forced you on your knees, and then left, closing the door behind them. Silence. Silence was never a good sign. You learned through your years in the monster infested streets that being scared only hinders a person from thinking correctly. Unknown if taught or developed through denial, you make light of a horrible situation. You talk to yourself, beginning with a large sigh,

“So, uh, may I have this blindfold off now? I would like to see this room. You know, to see if it’s as wonderful as it smells.” Despite the unsmellable miasma, you were still curious on seeing the carnage in the room. Anatomy has always interested you, even though you would mourn for an animal being murdered in your sights. Waiting for any noise to occur, you shift your position to something more comfortable and relaxing, for you are terrified, but you know you can deceive yourself from that feeling by sitting criss cross with a forced smile on your face. Whatever comes for you, you want its guard down.

“Hello-o?” spoken in a sing-song voice from your lips. “I would love to meet whoever I have been presented to. I bet you’re really nice!” You knew for a fact this thing was not going to be nice, yet you smiled like the sun.

Almost like waiting for that request, you heard something on the far end of the room. It swashed and churned the flesh on the floor with back prickling success, like it was made from the innards. The commotion made the thing sound immense, yet graceful, for it made a slithering sounding pattern, even though you could also make out the glopping noises of it sticking to the floor. You heard the oozing, the sucking and spurting of muck and the clattering of bones like a wind chime, patiently moving closer to your presence. It stops, and you waited for a follow up response, but there was none.

“Hello! My name is [YNH] and it is wonderful to meet you! Can you get this blindfold off? I would like to see things, please! I wanna check this room out.” Any normal person would stutter and be selective of their words in a situation like this, but staying calm is your top priority and being in denial about the apparent danger is the only way you know how.

There was no answer from the beast.

“So, uh, how about this weather, huh? Freezing. Hope your muckiness doesn’t freeze on you. Boy, wouldn’t that be annoying.” More awkward silence ensues.

“May I see you? I would love to see you! I bet you’re wonderful to look upon.” You question why you say such things during inappropriate situations, but you are most likely going to die, so might as well.

You feel a presence closer to your visage, and by judgement, it is inches from you. Heart racing and ready for unimaginable pain, you regard the sensation of something brushing the sides of your head, and to your surprise the creature took off the blinding material.

“My my, I began to wonder about my next meal's arrival. I did hope it was something delectable, but I never knew it wouldst be so...cheerfully naive,” it finally responded with a tilted expression. Although gurgled and hearing of strain, the voice sounded reagent and light, teetering on the male and female threshold of vocals.

You gaze upon a semi-human creature. The top half is of a taught pale skinned human with long snow white locks. A helm that resembled the setting sun covers half of his lean face, covering his eyes and nose but revealing cracked, yet glossy, violet lips. Royal attire of dark purple and gold hung loosely about his skeletal figure, ending in a long, split ended dress of fiber strands that puff out like a bird’s feathers. Below that mostly normal looking torso sprouted an unholy amalgamation of flesh, muck, grime, and remains, all forming together to shape an elongated tail. You could have sworn you have seen some pulsation.

Noticing you are staring at him wide eyed, he begins to speak again,

“I must give thee praise for thine attempted courage, but false emotions dost not deceiveth the Saint of the Deep. I can smelleth thy fear and it is as delicious as flesh itself,” he says with a smile. Feeling his eyes bore into you as you struggle to keep up your act, you just shrug and smile ‘I guess.’

The masked creature circles you as if curious on what is before him. You watch quizzically and try to read him, but you are only as inquisitive as he is. He crosses his arms with a scowl.

“You okay? What, do I have something on me? Do I not have enough meat on my bones for you, sir?” You really have to stop nudging others like this, it is just tempting them to eat you.

He leans in closer again, placing the back of his hand against your face, tilting his head and yours in the process. You felt a rush of blood go from your heart to your cheeks, but that was only from surprise and fear, right? After a few seconds of what felt like forever of physical contact, he jerked his branch like fingers away from you and pulled himself aback. You were becoming light headed but managed to stay put. Since when was the last time someone made passive physical contact with you? You were shocked and wanted it again, but right now is not the time for such foolishness. Pay attention and see when you can wriggle free from this disastrous situation.

While being distracted with your thoughts, his hands quickly wrapped around your neck. ‘Dammit!’ You thought. ‘Only if my hands were free I could dig my thumbs into his trachea!’ However, you noticed that yes there was pressure, he was not choking you, but rather... feeling for something?

His lips part with a small gasp,

“By the divines, thoust can not be... This is wonderful!” He pushes two fingers where your neck meets your chin, feeling your pulse. His aggressive prodding made you hear and feel your own beating heart struggle to push blood to your head, making it difficult to breath. Enjoying the scene, he cocks his head in amusement and grins,

“In all my years I never thought a single one of you wouldst be in existence still.” The Saint lightly traces your jawline with a single finger, watching you shutter. If he has not interacted with a living human being, then everyone around here must have had a second death in a most gruesome manner, and it seems he was that second death. However insane, his diction and manners say you might be able to talk yourself out of this. Make a deal to bring more food to him? Offer him a bigger treat? Whatever the case, you need to get out of here.

Before you had the time to react, he grabbed the back of your head and slammed it sideways into the grime. He waited for you to struggle and realize you were not going anywhere before he leaned his skeletal rib cage upon your back, positioning his cold lips right against your ear and whispered in a hungrily seductive tone,

“Dost thou hast any idea how long I, Aldrich, hast waited for pure blood, hot with fresh youth, spilling into my mouth? To sink my teeth into that soft skin, tasting every drop of essence in thy frail corpse? Peeling thy veins and arteries as you moan and scream in agony for me?”

With these words spoken, you feel your heart pounding in your throat. Just dying was one thing, but slow death is a curse that fills a slot of one of your greatest fears. Breathing heavily, you held back any wincing and tried your hardest to keep calm. Fear swirled unending in your head, inhibiting the lack of tracks for your train of thought. Aldrich could smash your head in right now, he would break your bones and keep you alive long enough to watch him enjoy your corpse. Despite your horror, your lack of normality within what you call a brain slurs the alarming danger with curiosity and attraction. What? Why? You are into unnatural things that are not others’ cup of tea, but nothing too grotesque. Anatomy and physiology are a personal interest, and you are skin deprived, but could these two characteristics really somehow create an unholy offspring of the ability to get off to dread and gore? Have you become that lonely and numb to violence that you blackened your bar of interest with taboo subjects?

You heat up and sweat with terror and that unnatural longing. Aldrich senses this and demands more apprehensiveness from you, running his boney hand down to your hip, squeezing and piercing your flesh. The warm blood from your body quickly drains from the wounds and you can feel his claws massaging the inside of them. With this bleeding and his heavy breath against your cheek, you want to beg to be touched, but what an ego-centrical thing to ask from a creature that eats people for breakfast. Why would he do something like that? You are just a flesh bag, nothing more nor less to Aldrich.

You accidentally let out a faint mixture of noise of a wince and moan. Oops.

“Ah, so my scarlet swan can singeth. Pray, my dear, continue. The more thou continue, the longer thou wilt live.” His voice wraps around your brain and you listen to the song of the siren. Who knows if he can see the expression on your face, which is that of frustration-- not for the situation you are in, but disappointment that you are into this.

Aldrich scratches into your back with rhythmic circular motions, going up from your hip to the side of your ribs, then curving onto your back and going south to your sides. You struggle in preventing yourself from gyrating to the movements.

With a moan, he speaks again,

“Oh, by the stars, thy warmth is such a specialty for me. I forgot how much I longed for this moment. I simply cannot wait until I-” He cuts himself off, and then proceeds to lift himself off of you, however still pinning your head to the ground. You perk your ears up in hopes you catch a sound of a hero, but alas none.

“But if I continue forth with it, however always being with me forever, I wilt never be able to see nor toucheth thee ever again. I want more than anything to eat and consume so thou wilt never be able to leave, but…” He trails off, talking to himself and sounding worried. “Oh, what a terrible position to be in.”

“A-Are you confused?” You stupidly ask in a cracked tone. Maybe forming a personal connection will convince him to let you go, but at this point if you prevent him from eating you, do you want to leave? He seems interesting as a person, and there is an artistic elegance about him that you want to study… But what are you thinking? This will not happen, no matter how strong your fantasy is.

The devourer turns you over onto your back, still having his right hand pinning, but square on your chest. Completely forgetting to check how bad your wounds are, you are mesmerized by the angle of Aldrich presented to you. He is looking off to the side with his smooth chin between his pointer and thumb. With a calm and collective pose, he breaths steadily. The slight breeze in the room loosens his silky hair and has it fall gently from his sharp shoulders; it seems to gleem in the moonlight, as well as his crowned mask. The room is dark, but moonlight pools in, bouncing off of every moist surface and turning the translucent drapes into ghosts. You can see small white and grey particles floating around as well, which is most likely dead skin flying. The atmosphere within the chamber intensifies the beauty that is Aldrich to you. ‘Fascinating,’ you think to yourself as you study him from head to torso. You want to see the rest of him, but with the position you are in, you cannot. Disappointing.

You still know you are in danger, but your heart is pumping for a different reason. Referencing of how he is, you know he will never consent, but disturbingly you long to hug him and feel his body like he did to you. Hopefully he has a heart you can listen to, following every beat it makes and its changes when you touch him specifically. The mere thought of kissing and biting him makes you weak and moist. And those lips, those violet dead lips-- ‘GAH!!! What the Hell am I thinking?! Knock it off you shit!’ Thinking angrily at those atrocious passions, you bury that inevitable explosion. ‘Don’t worry, me. Once I’m out or when I die it will end. The nothingness will come back and you won’t have these deep dark feelings anymore. Feeling nothing is better than self loathing.’ That last thought made you sad and unable to look upon Aldrich with fascination anymore, only the expression of longing for something you never had.

“Something must hast distracted thee, for thou dost not stare at me with those soulful eyes of wonder nay longer, and the drum in thy chest hath decreased.” Aldrich startled you when he spoke, and you were able to lock eyes with approximately where his would be. In a saddened expression, you dismiss him,

“It’s nothing. Just stupid mental stuff.”

“Now now, stress wrinkles the skin and we dost not require anything such, especially me.”

“Psh.” you sullenly hissed.

“Nay need to gift attitude, child,” he sharply responded. Feeling embarrassed and afraid you might get on Aldrich’s bad side, you generalize what is on your mind.

“It’s just loneliness, that’s all.” You shake your head as you speak, trying to be casual.

“I see. How strange that thy mind wanders to that place instead of focusing on the situation thou art in now. Normally victims art scared stiff, but thy...hm. Impressive.”

While you shrug in apathy, he leans in closer to you. Immediately your heart wants to burst out of your chest, and you accidentally smile and blush, darting your eyes back and forth between him and empty space. His delicate lips form a smile, and strangely it felt more personal than aggressive.

“I want to feast upon thee, but thither is something I feel I wilt miss. Something that even becoming a part of me will never fill.” Seeming like he realized what this now looks like, he pulls himself back again,

“However, I am still deciding, so dost not raise thy hopes just yet. I wouldst like to ’observe’ thee a bit more.” While stating this, he dragged his sharp finger down your torso, all the way to your naval, and you were no longer pushed against the ground. You could try to get up casually and then book it somewhere, far away from this monster, but your stupid affections are keeping you put.

Now that Aldrich has backed away a little, he is now towering over you, giving a clear view of below his hips. The fibered dress looks scratchy, but you would do anything to feel it, to cuddle and stroke the raven black strands. And the tail, that tail. It is immense compared to his body and greatly juxtaposes the human half, but despite the ugliness and filth it harbors, it is fancy. The goop shimmers like running water in the sunlight and the bones are protruding in such a way they look like decoration. Giant ribs stick up from the back to form an inverse cage, almost like spikes. Between these bones are rotting tendons that hang about like silk decor. Boils and skulls poke out from the muck but are positioned like dark spotted patterns going along his form. And everything is speckled with black tattered feathers and tarps, like a destroyed royal hall. You want to observe it further, but now is not the time.

Aldrich beautifully chuckles. However still sounding distorted, your lust for him just makes that flaw even more alluring.

“Thou stare at me with begging eyes, but they art not of freedom, art they? Nay, thou lengthy for something else. Something putrid in the eyes of common folk, but absolute heaven for thyself.” As he says this, he runs his hands up your stomach, across your breast, and cradles your face in his frail hands. Aldrich smeared the blood from your wounds across your body and painted your cheeks with it. Your face flushes with blood beneath your skin when he leaned into you for the fifth time, but he did not stop just inches from your face. He lathers your warm pink lips with the deep redness of your blood and kisses you passionately.

Filled with blood and saliva, you taste the fusion of the Devourer and you in your mouth. It took you a few seconds to realize what is happening, but once you did, you immediately accepted it. Closing your eyes,  you kiss him back.You breath heavily and moan with satisfaction, and he bites your lip to make you drain even more. His silky lips overtake yours as you struggle to be just as aggressive. Becoming lost in the moment and ignoring the danger, you slide your blood soaked tongue into his mouth, licking his. A smile crosses Aldrich’s face and without missing a beat he pushes your tongue back, making his enter your mouth, taking in everything he can and almost reaching your throat. You want to touch him, dig your fingers into his thin skin or run them through his smooth hair. By keeping your hands bound behind, he is still torturing you, whether he realizes it or not.

Aldrich detaches his mouth from yours and begins to kiss your neck, ultimately leading to biting so he can lick the drawn blood. As much as you were enjoying this, you are worried about him puncturing your throat, but the thought dissipated from mind when he dragged his hands down to your breast, squeezing them. He pecks you bloodied kisses down to your collar.

“I demand to witness more of thine illustrious living corpse, and take in all the warm heat thou hast keep locked away.” As Aldrich speaks his words with lustful breath, he tears your clothing off, having no cares if he rips parts of flesh along with it. He takes in the beauty that you radiate. ‘Oh God, yes,’ you thought. ‘Do more, do anything more to me to have me beg for your touch!’ It is odd that everything is happening so fast with someone--something--that you just met, but oh lord, who cares! This beautiful beastie is elegant to be around; hearing anything escape his lips sings a lullaby to your soul, and certainly he is no stranger to appalling interests. If your unfiltered and awkward talk did not drive him away, then there would be little to nothing standing in your way to winning him over now.

Aldrich snuggles his face into your chest so he can listen and feel your heart beating for him. He cradles your breasts and pleasures your delicate tits as you move and embrace his heavy life force against your skin. You moan and nudge more and more, feeling yourself become saturated by the minute. Thinking Aldrich sensed this, he slowly drags his hand southward, grazing your side and tracing your hip. You feel the rough touch of his fingers reach underneath your trousers, lifting up your panties. Heavy sighs are released from your throat the closer he got to your clitoris. His blood soaked fingers mixes with your pleasure fluids, placing his fingers on the inner vulva and rising them to your little plump bulb of pleasure. Quickly you suck air into your lungs, to which Aldrich giggled at your surprised reaction. He lifts his head to meet your pulse and sucks on your neck. Your body moves along with the rhythm of his motions against your clit, occasionally rubbing your breast against his distinct collar bone. The harder and faster you breath, he does the same with his fingers. The rush of energy jolts through your body as he squishes the clit in between two of his bones and switching to circular motions against it occasionally. Finally, you feel it. Your body jerks with anticipation and you verbalize your thoughts, “Oh please, yes!” Upon hearing this, Aldrich uses a single finger to flick and touch your clitoris as fast and hard as he can so you may feel the most pleasurable rush. With a heavy and loud moan, you arch your back once climax hits. Aldrich slows his movements and pulls his face away from your neck, a string of thick blood drips from his smiling lips, which, to your surprise, looks more lovely dressed with you.

You lean in for a kiss, to which he welcomes. He frees his arms and hands and places them on the ground above you. Where you two done? No. No no! You wanted to lavish in this moment for a while longer. Without opening your eyes, you speak in a meek voice,

“More, please… I want more...”

You felt embarrassed about asking to go further than accepting what you have already been given, but you wanted it; you did not ask, you demanded, albeit poorly. Come on, this is your first time. Do not be hard on yourself!

Opening one eye, you see Aldrich’s magnificently grotesque tail swishing back and forth slowly and gracefully in the tar-like fluid. He had a smile across his cracked porcelain mouth.

“Oh yes, my dearest scruple of nourishment! I was not planning on being done just yet, for I hast not been entirely satisfied.”

Aldrich moves back and lifts your pelvis up, slowly pulling off the rest of your attire. A cool gust of air touches your crotch and you can feel the sticky fluids pull away. You watch as he splits the strands and lick his fingers, then throwing your pants to the side. He props you up and unties your bonds, continuing to transfer his palms to hug your thighs. You gently place your hands on his and Aldrich shutters, still fascinated by how thermal you are in comparison and how calmly you are touching him. Staring longingly, you run your fingers through his hair. It is as soft as you thought it was. Aldrich pushes you back so you may lay down, then proceeds to move his face closer to your genitalia.

He kisses your clitoris to give you the sense of how his lips feel down there. After he senses you wince in delight, he belligerently pushes his tongue against the entirety of your crotch, kneading his tongue across it. As this happens, you let out a musical groan of pleasure. He licks and flicks in such an aggressive and loving manner, just the way you knew you would enjoy it. It may not be literal devouring of flesh, but he smooshes his mouth and tongue upon you in mimicry. He makes no jerking motions as his tongue massages you, wriggling and writhing in smooth patterns inside, touching every sweet spot he can reach. Every little touch made from his tongue and lips you overhear the wet and sticky sound of departure. You listen to him swallowing your discharge created from the previous endeavors, along with the blood that soaks the both of you.

After a while, Aldrich focused his oral movements singularly on your clitoris, but he was not finished with the other. Locating your vaginal opening again, he glosses two fingers over it teasingly. Salivating his digits, he pushes them deep within you, puncturing your walls. The pain was sharper than menstruation cramps, but it was bearable, especially with your sense of tenacity with adornment.You lay there with closed eyes, focusing on the amorous vitality those slender fingers are granting you. With all his pressure inducement, he pushes you back and forth, your curves and chest shaking along with the rhythm. Every time he pulls you he grips your pelvic bone. Looking up, he sees your content face and watches your body move along with him.

Pulling out to daub your vulva, he absolutely enjoys teasing you. Seeing you so happy, he lifts his hand, waiting and watching. Growing worried, you lean up and, almost immediately, fear crept in again. Did you do something wrong? Did somehow someone stab Aldrich? ‘No,’ you thought, ‘something like that wouldn’t have happened so quickly.’ Checking to see if he is still there, you are greeted with a sly smile and a light giggle.

“Dost not fret, I am still here.”

You smile and shake your head, relaxing.

Aldrich pushes his fingers in again and shakes you more violently now. He wants more sound from your throat and sustenance from your body, and thus you do what he requests. You reach the same point again, but the build up was much more intense. You clenched the ground and gasped for air, and before you knew it, the milky white fluid of squirting released itself from your cervix.

Stunned by how much came out, you look at Aldrich for judgement. He only glanced at his hand, which is now mixed with blood and ejaculation fluids, turning pink a little. As you sweat profusely, he ingests his soft hot meal. It almost looks like he is staring at you, but you never can tell with that golden crest on his face.

So much has happened in the last hour with being around this man. At first you thought you were dinner, and now you have just become the consenting play thing for a monster. After two climaxes, you think you are done. With the accumulation loss of blood, water, and energy all around, you just want to lay down and rest for a while. Could you go again? I guess you will have to wait and see if Aldrich does something to cause that puffy lust again.

Contenting sighs relieve from your beloved monster. As he rolls over onto his back, he puts his hands behind his head and stares at you with his rose stained mouth. You lay on your side and clasp your hands together to rest your cheek upon. Observing him intensely, you notice squirming movements underneath his lower plumage. At first you did not recognize what was happening, but then once the cylinder-esque organ arrived, it dawned on you he is manipulating his mucky lower half to copy that of an inhuman cock. This mimicry is fat and thick, pulsating with the grime it is made out of. The tip is sharp yet rounded and its circumference increases as it meets the body, however, it forms what looks like to be a plump knot at the base. Tiny bumps of various sizes line around the attachment point and gradually forms then fades up the dorsal of his shaft. Two small parallel fin strands run up from his knot to his head under his ventral half. Lastly, like a faded beacon, his tip has a mauve tint, standing out and looking lovingly sickly.

Aldrich licked his lips as he watched you stare and decide what to do with his gift. Growing impatient, he moves his hand down to run it between his fingers in an urge to have you come closer. Of course it works and you crawl towards him. He adoringly brushes his finger against your hot cheek once you are in close range.

“I’m...going to screw up.” You honestly did not want to bring down the mood, but you felt like you had to warn him so he is not so disappointed in you; it felt wrong to mask this thought.

“Tush tush, mine own dearest,” he speaks as he lifts himself from his back. Aldrich helps you on top of him. He is not too wide, but your feet barely touch the ground, so you settle with planting them on protruding bones. Cupping your backside, he hoists you up, and you take his cock and feel for your opening. Once found, you gently slide it into your tight pussy, and because this is your first time at intercourse, you struggle to fit him in all the way, but you would be damned if you did not have this creature inside of you, so you bare the pain. Feeling every inch of him push and rub against your vagina was like heaven, especially when his head forced itself against the highest point of your uterus, making you squirm. You never had anything like this enter you, and so when your opening attempted to pucker but was stopped, you really felt the massivity of his dick.

Aldrich whispers in your ear,

“All thou needth is to follow the primordial urge thou hast did bury within thy breast, and I am sure thee shalt please me.” Upon hearing this, you bury your face into his rigid chest, trying to find a heartbeat, but there was none to find. He is a dead corpse, just like the rest of them.

Grabbing onto his apparel and pushing your feet against the carbon steps, you begin to rotate your stuffed hips. At first it was painful, but as you self lubricate, the pain subsides and you relish in the love making. Aldrich clenches obsessively to your butt and encourages you to go faster. Gradually you speed up, savoring every stroke your soft vaginal walls make against his stiffness. Your breast and stomach follow and squish the softness of your body onto him, pleasing your hard tits.

With raspy breaths, you gaze to your left to see your monster’s exposed neck. You see his sinewy tendons bulge against his faded skin and you hear and feel his high gasps of pleasure behind your shoulder. All those lines, ridges, and muscles attached and working to form his neck anatomy captivates you. Your lips want to kiss it, your tongue wants to taste it, and your throat wants to consume it. Before you could stop yourself, though why would you want to, you open your mouth to as wide as it can expand and bare your teeth. With as much bite force you can muster, you sink your canines into his tissue. Aldrich, surprised by this action, winces. He digs his claws into you and loudly squeeks, cracking his voice. Not knowing your own strength and scared by the new noise produced from him, you pull yourself back and continuously plead that you are sorry. You did not want him hating you and you knew you would screw up. Oh why does nobody listen to you?!

“I didn’t mean to I swear! I was just--I was just going along with--following what you said about the primordial urge and I just--I’m sorry--!”

“More.”

“...” Your brain is trying to process his answer while you have a dumbfounded expression. So you did not screw up?

“Just...do it again?” asking to make sure you knew what is being requested.

“Do it. Bite me. Drink the drops of sorrow of mine flesh and alloweth to drip down thy throat in pleasure.”

You pause for a moment, then wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders to have a solid grip. Biting down yet again, he groans and squeaks in delight of your hot mouth piercing him. The more he whimpers, the more feminine and raspy his chord’s production become. Usually you would find this noise pitiful and saddening, but this time it excites you and you bite harder, ripping skin away and running your tongue against raw flesh. You move your hand down to right beneath your gut, feeling his thick shaft inside, violently thrusting. With one arm around your back, he pushes you against him like wanting your particles to mix with his, but alas this only leads to more moaning, biting, and the spreading of ruby red blood across each other’s corpses.

Aldrich penetrates your skin as he becomes increasingly ready to ejaculate. He breathes harder and squeezes you greedily, only letting up when he releases inside of you, his throat creating the most beautiful noise of innocent cries. Once tolled, the sensation of lukewarm cum rushes inside of you, overfilling your uterus. You look down and see it seeping out, drooling onto his shaft. Slowly you pull yourself off of Aldrich, watching his semen ooze out and stick to anything in close proximity. Thick filaments stretch from his soaked cock and your saturated pussy as you detach from him. As you sit down, you squeeze his black fluids out of you with occasional thick clumps where some of his rotting flesh came off while cumming. Aldrich mashes his face into yours, kissing, and touching, you again to display his gratification from you.

“Thou hath felt absolutely extraordinary! I take absolute rapture from stuffing thee with my dead seed. Oh what ecstasy!” With every sentence ended, he purrs and kisses you again and again, all the while you cup his face ever so delicately and sweep your thumbs against his cheeks. Every time he kisses you giggle, having him struggle to dance his lips with yours.

“Thank you, thank you!” you laugh.

“I am...so joyous thou decided to stay here and alloweth each other to satisfy the other.”

As Aldrich said this, you could not help but feel he sounded vulnerable. Is he lonely? Does he feel separated from the world? Supposedly he only kept you alive because he wanted to experience your uniqueness longer, but judging how kind he was during the sensual moments and what he just said, which included the both of you and not just him, it sounded like this creature might be exposing his soft side, even if just a bit. The thought released butterflies in your stomach and you could not help but squish his cheeks with the tips of your fingers and rotate them, giving him the smushed lips of adorableness, and rub your nose and forehead against his with loving laughter. He was confused at first, but Aldrich accepted the weird physical affection you gave and laughed along with you.

“Thou art mine now; Mine forevermore. No one shall toucheth nor harm thee while I am still drawing breath, my scarlet swan. I will own thee and thou wilt love me for all eternity, and thus I shalt giveth whatever thee dreams.”

“Yes, I will. I will love you, mon cher,” you reply sweetly.

Aldrich leaned back and lied down with a fulfilled sigh. He laid his arms and hands above his head, relaxing on the floor.

Feeling not only you need to repay him for giving you multiple orgasms, but you are also not done playing with him just yet.

As you watch him lay there, breathing slowly, his chest rising and falling gracefully, your eyes gradually draw down to his crotch. His cock is moistened with his mockery of semen, and because they both are of a deep abyss like blackness, the only difference you can see are the textures: One is a little bumpy looking while the other is smooth as glass. Such beauty in what others believe is unholy to look upon. You graze your fingers against his hips, twitching nerves with every movement made by you. Looking up at him, he is still not facing you, however his breathing has become slightly faster. Aldrich’s cock is so firm against your light touch with the backs of your fingers, feeling all the fake veins submerging out. You touch and squish every crevice at your own pace, watching him progressively dance his torso. Once you have felt him up, you place your middle finger right on the top of his head, making circular motions with the tip of your finger, moving loose skin to make a little crater around his opening. As you do this, he lets out a little noise of smiling giddiness, to which you respond with the same. Underneath your finger some remaining cum squirts out, having you go to squishing his sensitive head with your middle, pointer, and thumb. You bring your hands down to his knot, wrapping your entire hand around his shaft. Starting off slowly, you move along his cock, pinching his head between your thumb and pointer finger. Aldrich practically sounds like you when he was massaging your clitoris, heavy and weak.

Rubbing your pussy against him as you move back, you lean over so your stomach is barely hovering over his body, resting on your elbows. You are scared but excited to try this, and so you begin with giving him a nice strong heavy lick on his head. He has an old umami taste about him as you lick up, down, and around his pulsating pleasure stick. You kiss and graze your teeth against it, having him sound like you when he fucked you with his tongue, high pitched and wincing for more. With every smooch and lick, his semen runs into your mouth and down your throat, having a bitter meaty aftertaste. Aldrich moves his hands down to grab at your hair, motioning you to suck him off, but you refuse just to tease him, continuing to cradle his cock and kiss it energetically.

Moaning and undulating your subtle breast upon him, your mouth makes its way to his head, covering his shaft with spit. You bunny kiss the tip and press your tongue against the opening. Looking up, you spot Aldrich moving in pattern with you, his rib cage pressing up against his pale skin, sticking out with every topped motion. Watching the skin move like rough latex from the bones push you closer into taking the mouthful.

Opening your mouth just enough so your rosey lips slip around him, you slowly stuff him into your mouth, lightly biting down to orally hug him. You are unable to take him entirely, but that is made up with poking him with your tough tongue, making shapes, and massaging your hands against whatever of his gooey cock still exposed. Pulling back, gagging with spit, then pushing him back in, with hot drool and post cum seeping out from under your lips, humming with delight all the way, you hear Aldrich’s sexual groans. With each occasional voice crack made from his tight pipes, you move faster, becoming more assertive and sucking him like a lollipop. His taste may be rancid, but the both your happiness is far too great to stop for some bad meat.

“Yes! Please do not stop. Faster, my dear!”

You sink your nails into his hips of gush, making him twitch with satisfaction. Aldrich’s breathing heightens and you feel him thicken and throb in your mouth. Realizing he is about to climax, you quickly bring your wet lips to his tip and push your thumbs into his veins and tendons.

Before you know it, dualizing with his squeakish howl, you feel this lumpy and disgusting tang suddenly burst into your mouth. Startled, you quickly pull your head back, semen and chunks spilling from your oral cavity. Wine colored thick liquids spurt from his cock. Despite the horrific taste, you still leaned ahead and drank him down. You were definitely going to be sick after this, but let us just focus on the now and burn that bridge when you cross it. As you sip him, Aldrich holds your cheek and strokes your crown like an owner to his obedient pet. He looks down towards you and you look up at him, only to shy your eyes away because you just end up giggling and smiling, being unable to finish your self entitled task. However, when this happens, all he does is beam and pet you.

Finally you grow tired of his taste and sit up, soaked with blood, spit, sweat, and cum all over your mouth, dripping down your neck.

“Thou looks as if finished. Lucky for thy tired little head, I believe I am done as well.”

“Heh, yeah,” you respond, yawning.

Aldrich hoists your plump body up so your shoulders meet. He wipes your neck and chin clean with his apparel, then holds you close and lies down on his side. You gladly accept his post sex cuddles and close your eyes, burying your face into the crook of his neck like he is a stuffed animal.

“I may not consume thee after all, now having a reason to keepeth thy heart’s alive and beating. Thou wilt satisfy me in different ways, I am sure.” Aldrich’s throat vibrates as his cooing echos through you. You have never really said this to anyone before, but maybe you can say this now and not regret it later,

“I love you.”

He squeezes you tighter.

“Good. Thou shalt love me forevermore, even after death. Maybe then, once thou hast died, I wilt mix thy particles with mine so thee shall never leave me.” Aldrich kisses your head.

What a strange way of flirting, this guy has, but it does not scare you away. You felt you can trust him because for some nobody such as yourself to change a devourer’s mind from seeing you as food to looking at you as an actually human being seems like a difficult task for anyone.

“However, I am starved. Thou hast been outside these walls, does thee knoweth of any wonderful spots to snack?”

“Yeah, a few.” Aldrich never stops thinking about eating, does he?

“Sublime! We shalt dine together as loving mates, my dearest.” As he says this, he rocks and kisses you as the both of you lay there in the rotten muck of the royal chamber of Anor Londo, just listening to each other breathe.

--- OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE NEVER AGAIN

[owlmylove]

big ask, how do you make friends?(not you as in you but as in the general all of us you does that make sense?)

aight strap in kiddo. heres how to win friends and influence smiles

first: find people that seem cool, or interesting to you. this is nowhere near as high stakes as it may seem because, though you may not know it yet, you don’t have to commit to being friends with someone just because you get to know them. we all make brunch and coffee date promises that will eventually go unfulfilled, not because we’re terrible people but rather we realize we’re better suited to hanging out with others. so, tldr: find cool people and don’t worry overmuch about it

now, find a way to talk to them. this depends on A. how often you see this person annnnd B. your own confidence level.  

if you see a cool person and don’t immediately know how to approach them, the easiest way in the world to make friends is to open with a compliment and go from there. this sounds ridiculous, but I’m currently at a large university and I literally make friends every day. most of the time, that’s prompted by complimenting them. I once told a girl outside starbucks I loved how she was working that croptop, and she almost yelled with joy, complimented my hair, and demanded to ask for my instagram. if someone is in a rush I naturally don’t interrupt them, but I have stopped by other people’s tables or seats in cafés before to inform them how much I like their outfit/hair/earrings/messenger bag. after they fawn over the compliment, proceed to small talk. 

small talk takes practice. 

and thats okay! most things in life do! you’ll get better the more you do it - I swear to god I’m the proof. 

bounce off whatever response they give to your initial compliment and, most importantly (and easiest for you!) keep the focus on them. try to end most - but not every one! - of your thoughts with an open question for them to keep the conversation rolling. complimented their jewelry? (usually a v. good pick, people take pride in their jewelry. sidenote, try to compliment things people choose: clothes, books, shoes, accessories. although “you have incredible eyes!” is a great compliment, it’s awkward as an opener because it A. requires you to have looked them in the eyes for a long period of time before talking to them and B. sounds like a pick up line. [I wait until I’ve been talking to them for a while before I acknowledge how wow, I’m sorry, the light just hit your eyes and they’re gorgeous! I’m sure you get that all the time, but wow.]) 

ask them where they got their bracelet. if someone got it for them, ask about the gift-giver. if they don’t remember where they got it, laugh and say that all the best pieces in a wardrobe are the ones you forget where they came from. give an example of your own, if applicable. try bouncing from complimenting their hair to asking where they get it done and maybe make a joke about how you wish you could bring a professional negotiator to your appointments, because otherwise you’ll ask for a trim, the stylist will give you a buzzcut, and you’ll say “oh thats perfect, thanks :))” almost everyone has had that experience, I promise.

I should also acknowledge: I’m writing this as a cis female. I can (and do) compliment a lot of people, mostly women. But I’ve been told that if you’re male-presenting, then giving such compliments to people of any gender might be seen as flirting? As such, for those who don’t present as girls: give compliments in a way that feels right for you. One of the best drive-by compliments I recently got from a guy was while I was late for a performance, striding across campus, and a guy passing by just said “Hey, I love your style,” without breaking stride or trying to force a conversation. No matter what you identify as, if you’re worried someone will think you’re hitting on them be sure to keep that air of, “I don’t mind if this conversation comes to a natural conclusion.” Even if you desperately want to be their friend, desperation is easily detected and can be as uncomfortable in platonic contexts as it is in romantic ones. 

so don’t lean in too close, don’t force extended eye contact or stare, and don’t compliment any body parts unless you think you can do so without being suggestive. casually mirror their body language when possible (if they’re leaning their cheek on one arm, wait a beat or two before propping your chin up similarly) to make them feel like you’re attentive and similarly minded.

if you can immediately tell you have a common factor with a person, go for it. if someone’s reading a book you’ve read, or a book you want to read, or a book you wrote, sit sorta near them, glance their way and, acting as if you’ve just now recognized the book, ask them how they’re enjoying it. if they’re a deep reader and go “huh?” as your voice drags them up from the literary depths, give a self-effacing smile and say “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. That’s just one of my favorite books. How are you liking it so far?” this leads to any other question about a book you can imagine. 

ditto any t-shirt about a form of media you’re familiar with, or patch or sticker or pin. all of those are just nerd flags flying high in pursuit of like-minded people to talk to. trust me.

once you’ve made enough small talk and, if it’s working well, try finding a “to be continued” thread. could be “oh, you come to this coffee shop every morning to? well maybe I’ll see you next Wednesday then! it was nice meeting you, have a good day c:” orrrr maybe it’s “awww your dogs adorable!! here’s pictures of my pet/any other vaguely related to the conversation thing on instagram. [insert photo sharing, wait until you both stop actively looking at the photo] oh here, what’s your instagram? I’ll follow you!” open the search tab and hand it to them so you don’t have to worry about mistyping. 

also a very, very good method is to find something you can relate to the present conversation that you might not be able to immediately show. so an article, video, a picture you can’t-find-right-now, friend’s name, movie review, the name of this really cool bookstore you found in Annapolis because they mentioned they’re going there soon (if you really don’t mind bullshitting, find out where they’re traveling in the future, claim to remember a bookstore/museum/etc. you went to once, years ago and say oh shoot, what was the name? it was a pretty cool place - I’ll think of it tonight at like 2am. I can send you the name whenever I think of it if you like? [pause for answer] okay great! here, whats your number? and then go home, google some cool places, and text them a few hours later.) anything that gives you A. a way to continue this conversation and B. an excuse for not doing so immediately and, therefore, C. the chance to get their name & contact info.

now, if this isn’t just some cool-looking person you’re meeting for the first time, but someone you see regularly in a residential, academic or professional setting, start laying the groundwork for friendly vibes before you make a move. smile when you see them. if they’re a classmate, try sitting a lil closer (but not crazy close.) pay attention if they speak up in a group. if they drop something, and you don’t have to take extreme steps to do so, pick it up. if someone drops something across a lecture hall, don’t go running for it. but just close-lipped small smile + eyebrow flash when you see them and, after a few of these, try for a nod and/or a grin. if you’ve spoken to them at least once, if only to pick something up for them, you can try a “hey!/hello!” with a smile if they seem receptive to it. if you haven’t spoken to them yet, you’re welcome to try it if they seem receptive, but I usually wait.

if you don’t see this persona regularly, but semi-regularly, you need to evaluate whether the times you encountered them is significant enough for them to remember. please know this has waaay less to do with whether or not you’re memorable, and more to do with how much data our brains sort through every single day. think honestly about this, and decide this: when you eventually introduce yourself to them, would it be stranger to admit you remember the first time you both occupied the same space, or stranger to pretend to have forgotten?

I have a classmate who I vividly remember meeting for the first time, but we never really spoke until on instagram recently, 2 years later. So I never made a point of mentioning our meeting, until he actually referenced it! Then I went ahead and mentioned the highly-specific detail which made him so memorable as a question I was unsure of - “Ahaha yeah, his class was great! Weren’t you the one who _____?” 

Try never to be presumptuously confident in social settings until your conversational partner indicates it’s appropriate. It is almost always more polite to allow yourself uncertainty.

case in point: my default when friends are introducing me to people who I’ve seen around a few times is “Oh! Hello, I’m ___, haven’t we met before?” Assuming you have met before (even and perhaps especially when you know for a fact you haven’t) is SO MUCH SAFER than asking “have we met?” When they respond in the negative, we haven’t, you get to say “Oh, really? I guess I’ve just seen you around so much, I could’ve sworn we were introduced. Well, it’s so nice to officially meet you!” and then proceed with small talk, ideally including whoever your third party member is or, in the event of being one-on-one with this prospective friend, try asking them some questions about wherever you’ve been seeing them (so what do you think of our biology lecture?) OR compliments (Oh, I just noticed how awesome your watch is! where did you find that?) OR any other question you like. proceed with the small talk until one or both of you seems ready to leave, there’s a decent enough lull in the conversation, OR you’ve found a “to be continued thread” which you can string up before making your goodbyes. 

(Sorry if I’m exhausting this post with too many conversational examples, I just know how much younger, more-anxious me liked the idea of having a script to fall back upon)

don’t worry if you don’t get a contact method after the first conversation! you have spoken to the person, laid the ground work for a follow-up conversation, and that’s awesome. keep interacting with them when you see them, but be mindful of how interested they seem in interacting with you. the worst thing is to always stop and wait for a conversation when someone just wants to get on with their day. if they seem impatient, or busy, just say “hey! good to see you c:/have a good day c:/your hair looks great [insert name]!” and carry on. 

Friendships aren’t formed by constantly forcing conversations with a person. They’re formed by being mindful of those around you, considering people’s perspectives & emotions, and having a positive presence people want to be around.

you can shoot them periodic texts or DM’s, depending upon the contact method. best to start off is to send or discuss things relevant to your IRL conversation. if that starts a whole new text convo: awesome!!! if it fizzles out; let it fizzle. wait a few days/week/etc. try asking them for a book or music or coffeeshop recc, because people fucking love an invitation to offer their opinion (what do you think this novella of an answer is?) and then springboard into your own tastes, things you like and dislike, and see how well your views and tastes align. remember, talking to a potential friend is just like an interview! you may feel like you’re under examination, and need to win their attentions, but you’re interviewing them for the position too. 

finally, go ahead and invite them to hang out. you can do this waaaay earlier if you have sufficient reason/confidence to do so: if you compliment someone’s superhero shirt, and they say they can’t wait for the new movie next week, and you can’t either, say this! say you’re planning on going [insert date] if they wanna come get their mind blown with you and/or go halfsies on the pricey popcorn. 

also, naturally: if you’re in a coffeeshop and both clearly plan to be there again sometime soon, establish when you’ll see them next. when you do: don’t seat yourself at their table unless A. they invite you to or B. they’ve been clearly invested in talking with you for more than a few minutes, at which point you can say “Do you mind if I sit?” and then boom! coffee friendship!!! which is also the best way to deal with the natural, awkward pauses that come between topics - you can both reach for your cups as you think of ways to continue

But: if you don’t have the excuse of “here, wanna study for the next exam together?” or “carpool to work together?” or any of the above, go ahead and find something you think they might like too. If you have other friends who’d be down, and who aren’t super abrasive or wild or super super shy personality types, go ahead and try to make it a group hang. “Hey! Some of my friends & I are going to the movies on Friday night if you’d care to join!” orrrrrr invite them to grab coffee if that’s not where you usually meet them, or invite them to an outdoor market or some cool event (ideally with free admission!) like a live concert or gallery showing, etc. etc. 

If you only have their instagram when you first hang out with them, take a picture of them over the course of the night (not a selfie unless they ask for it.) I know how people feel about getting photographed, so I always take a bunch, tell them to try different poses, and then let them swipe through and pick their favorites for me to send them. offer the same, and tell them instagram/social media messagers kill the image quality if they don’t already know. Boom! now you have their phone number, and now they feel good about themselves bc of you. Woooo, positive correlations! if they want to take pictures of you, even if you’re squeamish around cameras, go ahead, laugh and let them go for it. otherwise, refusing the picture skews the friendship towards their ego, and suggest, if only subconsciously, that you like them more than you like yourself. 

from then on, it should be pretty smooth! see how the hang out goes, decide whether you want to keep hanging with them (as I said, you have that right!) and then text them when you want to. and as you spend more time interacting with them, and grow more comfortable, you might have some of Friendship Bonding Moments™ I’ve encountered. such as: being told I played a minor role in someone’s weirdly vivid dream, anytime someone sent me a post/song/video/article of clothing/picture of a dog and said it reminded them of me, sending me a new song they love and demanding I listen to it, asking for my opinion on what they’re going to wear tonight, and/or whether they should post a picture to instagram, someone randomly calling me up to say they’re headed to my favorite diner at 2am, do I want to come? (~Just College Things~), telling me they made extra dinner/food/baked goods and do I want some?

and then, congrats! you have made friends! if you really like them, and enjoy this sincerely and/or ironically, feel free to make them a friendship bracelet to immortalize the event once you feel comfortable enough with them

(although I have also promised to make friendship bracelets for people I have just met + had very positive conversations with, preceded by “Okay, that’s it, we’re friends now. You can expect your friendship bracelet in 3-5 business days.” and they all, without fail, freak out over the mere thought of a friendship bracelet and the implication that we are now officially friends. this works on people I met like, less than 5 minutes ago. it’s also really easy to say “you can expect your friendship bracelet in 3-5 business days. Here, what’s your instagram/phone number? I’ll text you!” bear in mind: don’t be presumptuously confident. gauge their level of enthusiasm before you ask for their contact details, or take the joke too far. but know that most will almost immediately say yes, because even adults who may laugh at the thought are still just little kids deep down, and everyone wants a friend to like them enough to make them a friendship bracelet)

if you’re looking for more than just casual friends: time, conversations and empathy all help to turn casual acquaintances into friends you can trust & rely upon. asking how they’re doing if it seems they’re having a rough day and actively listening, offering advice (only if they want it) or food or an indulgent stress relief hang out, or asking (one of the rare times presumptuousness is okay!!) if they wouldn’t mind letting you vent about a coworker or something frustrating - any time you encourage them to emotionally share with you, or you offer to share your emotions with them, will help solidify your friendship. as much as I hate admitting when I’m sad to my close friends, those that I do admit it to are the ones I trust & rely upon the most.

finally, most importantly and, yes, most clichédly: be yourself. The more a friend learns about you, the deeper the friendship. Never lie about yourself for the sake of impressing a friend, or all that effort you’ve put into making a friendship will be built on false grounds. you’ll never be comfortable or relaxed around someone you have to act around, so don’t! if someone doesn’t like you for you, they’re not worth your friendship in the first place. I may sound like Dr. Seuss or Hallmark, but I’m serious. 

Okay cool, so it’s 4:33 am and I should be studying for me french final in 6 hours, but hey, here’s like 3,000 words of rambly social advice and scripts. should I write a book about this? I feel like I could write a book about this. Hmm. Maybe thats just the espresso & caffeinated chocolate talking. please weigh in on book or nah in the comment section below

Anways, I hope with every fiber of my sleep-deprived soul that some small part of this goliath answer could help you! And if, in my stupor, I outlined every possible scenario except the ones you actually needed to know about, don’t hesitate to let me know and I’ll try my best to assist. Now go forth, make friends, and be you! ♥

[joeybelle]

Oh, how the tables have turned -- Part 3

Clyde Logan x Reader

Inspired by @clyde-prompts: “Some guys are rude and use ableist slurs against Clyde. The reader is with them, and although she feels bad about what’s happening, is too scared to say anything in front of her “friends”. She comes back to the bar a couple nights later to try and show him she’s not a bad person. They get to know each other and fall in love”. Doesn’t fully follow the prompt

Warnings: Language, first person POV, driving under the influence cause I assume everyone does it in that movie, IDK what I’m doing.

Rating: Mature

Setting: Pre-Heist

Tags: @lonelyravenclaw​ @kyloren-supreme-ben​ @onmyknees4steve​ @elsablackswift​ @helloimindelaware​ @mwcritics

A.N: I’ve decided to slice this fic into 3000-ish words parts for people to be able to scroll past it without much annoyance. Pert 3 ended up being much longer than expected, so i had to cut it into two parts somewhere in the middle. It’s not perfect, but you’ll be getting both parts today. When I finish editing. Might take a while. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the story. Feel free to drop me a line anytime or just message me if you wanna squee about Clyde Logan in general.

Rejection is always a tough pill to swallow. It wasn’t the first I’d gotten rejected and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it still didn’t go down easily. I found myself moping at home the next few days, following what I’d gotten used to calling the ‘series of unfortunate events’ related to Clyde Logan. Not that I had that many alternatives anyway, being a friendless nobody in a small town, but this time it felt self-imposed.

In the meantime I cut the grass in my yard and discovered a few rose bushes that were beautiful, but mean to my hands, I watched how the living room ceiling started leaking one rainy afternoon, signalling a pretty serious hole in the roof, nearly broke my neck going into the basement because there was a missing step I hadn’t seen before; I opened the vodka bottle all by myself and realized that he had been right, drinking alone wasn’t fun at all, but I was doing it anyway to hide my shame; I ate ice cream and binged Netflix shows for the rest of the week.

But there’s a limit to how much time you can spend alone at home before starting to go insane. I reached mine the next weekend and for a moment I considered paying Mellie a visit, but then I remembered the whole Clyde ordeal and I decided against it. I was sure that he’d told her everything and I really didn’t feel like talking about it. It was bad enough that I was beating myself up over it, I didn’t need someone else to rub it in. So, since the Duck Tape was off-limits for obvious reasons, and I didn’t feel like exploring for another bar in the neighbourhood I was left with only one option: the country fair.

I used to really love country fairs and carnivals and all that when I was a teenager, but it was probably because I’d be with my friends and there would be booze and food and we’d just be stupid together. I wasn’t sure I’d find them as charming nowadays, but at least I’d be moping outside, in public, which was an improvement to being secluded in my own home, waiting for another rain to invade the living room through the ceiling. So I showered, dressed like a semi-decent swamp witch and went to the damn thing.

As expected, the country fair didn’t impress me at all but it was a way to kill a few hours while feeling like less of a hermit than usual. I ate something, tested some insanely sweet drinks, and stuffed my face with enough ice cream to endanger my health, so in the end I found myself sitting on a bench, dangerously close to a food coma, with nothing better to do than to watch the crowd. Other people seemed to have way more fun than me. There were couples holding hands, parents with their kids, teenagers in groups visiting attractions and Clyde Logan with a blonde kid attached to his arm. Wait, what?

I have to say, this was the last place I had expected to see Clyde Logan. In my head, country fairs didn’t really fit his style (because I had spoken to him twice and I knew all there was to know about the man, obviously), and I assumed he’d be too busy with the bar to come to one anyway. I remembered that it was pretty early and the bar probably wasn’t open yet, but his presence in my field of vision was still unexpected.

I sighed dramatically and leaned back, arms crossed over my chest. Speak about bad luck, I thought. I came here to avoid him and here he was, swinging a blonde kid on his very toned arm. Actually, I didn’t mind the view. He was distracted by the kid and far enough not to notice my staring, so I indulged in it for a moment. There’s no harm in looking, right? Especially when he was wearing a dark, short-sleeved shirt that seemed at least a size too small, the buttons threatening to give in anytime he flexed his muscles while lifting the little girl in the air. His niece? Maybe. She seemed vaguely familiar, so I assumed she had been part of the onslaught of school kids that were sent to visit the college I worked at. Or maybe she was his kid. I had no way of knowing for sure.

Whatever the case, he looked really good doing it. He was smiling for a change. An open and honest smile lit up his usually somber face, and I just couldn’t look away. I caught myself wishing he would smile at me like that, but then I realized that we were practically strangers and I hadn’t made the best impression the first time we met. And since he clearly rejected me, I had to get over this crush ASAP if I wanted to live peacefully in this town.

The little girl let go of his arm and ran back to a couple that, after a bit of squinting, I recognized to be Jimmy Logan and his sister Mellie. They both looked different—after all it had been more than a decade since I’d last seen them—but not so much that I didn’t recognize them. Jimmy lifted the girl in the air and kissed her, then put her down and looked straight at me with a shit eating grin on his face. The feeling was similar to being punched in the gut. I remembered that in another life I’d dreamed of Jimmy Logan looking at me with a smile, but right now the only thing I felt was panic, so I decided to get the hell out of there before Mellie noticed me and I’d have to be part of a very awkward conversation.

But luck definitely wasn’t on my side today, because the little girl started running towards me yelling ‘Miss’ at the top of her lungs. Oh, now I recognized her: she was the pageant girl. Really smart kid, very bubbly and friendly, talked my ear off during the college tour. Her favourite subject was, of course, pageants.

“Hi!” I said, when she stopped in front of me, grinning from ear to ear. “You must be… uhhh… uhhhh.” Crap. I had been calling her pageant girl in my head for so long that I’d forgotten her name.

“Sadie!” she helpfully reminded me.

“Sadie, right. How are you today?”

“Good. Daddy brought me to the fair to see the auctioneers. And later uncle Clyde will win me a unicorn.” I did my best not to steal a glance at Clyde at the mention of his name, not wanting to invite any more attention towards me. Hopefully I’d be able to get out of here before the adults ganged up on me.

“Awesome!” I said, panic clearly noticeable in my voice, because Jimmy Logan was rapidly approaching (despite his visible limp) with Mellie following closely. “It was nice seeing you today, Sadie, but I have to go now. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for your unicorn.”

“Aw, leaving already?” She looked genuinely sad and I felt bad for her, but I felt even worse for myself, so I had to go.

“Yeah, leaving already? Without even saying hello?” Jimmy caught up to us before I was able to disappear, so I put on my most believable fake smile and hoped for the best. “Come on, don’t be a stranger, Baby,” he said, pulling me into a hug.

“Well, I kinda thought I was,” I mumbled, but returned the hug. He seemed like a nice person, plus I’d held him on a pedestal for so many years that I could indulge in a hug.

“Daddy, why are you calling her baby?” Sadie aske, giggling.

“Cause that’s her nickname,” he said, ruffling her hair. He explained to her that I’d been called baby ever since I was little, but she had to be polite and call me by my real name. The kid giggled again and I mouthed ‘I hate it’ which made her laugh harder, before turning to face her dad once again.

“I am surprised you know that. I lived under the impression that you had no idea who I was,” I said, going to hug his sister. “Hi Mellie, long time no see.” In hindsight, I should have kept my mouth shut and pretended we were at least acquaintances. And although I knew it could be interpreted that way, I wasn’t bitter that he never acknowledged me in my teens—after all, it was just puppy love and it had been a decade since then—but I was curious what had prompted this sudden display of familiarity. If anything, I would have expected Mellie to come alone to say hi.

“Hiya, sweetheart. It’s good to have you back.” She warmly returned my hug.

“What do you mean I had no idea who you were? You’ve been coming to my games since you were twelve and cheered louder than the whole cheerleading squad.” That was true. “How could I not know my biggest fan?”

“So you what, ignored me on purpose?” I said, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he said and laughed. His laugh was still the same as I remembered, loud and contagious. “But my brother here had the biggest crush on you and I just didn’t wanna make him more jealous.” Well, this was unexpected.

Clyde had conveniently stayed out of my line of sight, keeping his distance, but now I turned to look at him. Never in my life had I seen anyone blush so furiously in a matter of seconds, his whole face even his ears becoming a deep shade of red. He was glaring at Jimmy who seemed really unfazed by it.

“Is that so?” I pressed, feigning innocence, but deep inside me there was a little devil laughing maniacally. I mean, I was aware that it wasn’t very nice of me, but I was feeling a tiny bit of petty satisfaction knowing that I wasn’t the only one embarassed by the whole situation. Misery loves company.

“Yeah, he only ever came to my games to see you cheer,” Jimmy said, same shit eating grin plastered on his face, seeming completely oblivious to his brother’s discomfort.

I smiled back but wonder what Jimmy’s motive was. Talking to me out of the blue, after never acknowledging me before, snitching on his brother in a matter of seconds. I knew he was insanely loyal to his family, so why sell him now?

On the whole, the situation was beyond comical. Jimmy was grinning, Clyde seemed set on killing him with a glare, Sadie attached to his arm again asking ‘Is that true, uncle Clyde’ over and over again until he finally mumbled something that sounded like ‘It was a long time ago’. He looked at me like a deer (or a moose) caught in the headlights and I could feel my own cheeks burning. I was in hell.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?” I asked Mellie, who stood next to me, arms crossed and an amused smile playing on her face.

“‘Cause he’s a bit of a coward and you were infatuated with my other brother,” she kindly explained.

“Right.” Made sense. I still felt like something that I should have known about back then— who knows, I might have liked him back—or you know, forever hold your silence type of thing. But knowing this now explained a lot of things.

Now that the petty satisfaction that I had felt for embarrassing him had died down a little bit, I understood why Clyde rejected me and didn’t seem to react to my flirting. If someone I had been crushing on in my teens showed up on day, insulted me or trampled on my insecurities then tried flirting with me I would have been much less gracious in rejecting them than Clyde had been. Yes, it had been more than a decade since highschool, and I was pretty sure his crush on me was dead and buried (like the one I used to have on Jimmy), but it was something that could potentially still hurt after years. So once again I was flooded by guilt.

“Well, it was… uhh… fun meeting you guys, but I have to head back now,” I said, getting ready to bail. Enough embarrassment for a day. Served me right for wanting to get out of the safety of my home. Never again.

“Come on, we’ve just met and you wanna leave already?” Mellie said with a disappointed look on her face.

“It’s not that, I just have some things to do at home,” I tried excusing myself. “Give me your phone number and we can hang out another time,” I said fishing my phone out of my pocket.

“The things will still be there tomorrow, but you’re never getting back today,” Jimmy said with a wink.

“Wow, who knew my brother was a philosopher,” Mellie arched an eyebrow at him. I laughed.

“Please, Miss,” Sadie latched onto my hand, pulling me towards the booths. “Daddy said I’ll get to be your guide today, show you around the fair. Pleaaase.” How could you say no to a kid? Big-eyed, freckled, and more full of life than I’d ever been.

I looked over to Clyde who had returned to a somewhat normal shade, although there was still some pink tinting his cheeks. He still seemed highly uncomfortable about this whole thing, his whole body looking tense. I tried imagining what he felt: a week ago he was living a (supposedly) peaceful life and then Baby was back in town and he’d been insulted, hit on and then embarrassed by his brother in front of his family. If I’d been in his place, I would have faked my death and left the country by now.

“I don’t think I should…” I said, hoping that at least one of the siblings would take the hint and leave it be.

“Nonsense!” Jimmy proclaimed, patting me on the shoulder and nudging me towards Sadie. “Come stay with us a while and I promise you’ll have plenty of time to do whatever you were planning on doing.”

“Are you willing to help out?”

“If that’s what it takes…”

I snorted. “Half an hour then I’m gone,” I said, following them towards the booths. I send Clyde an apologetic look, hopefully he wouldn’t be bothered too much by my presence for the next half an hour. He seemed to have regained his composure and was following us closely.

Sadie was still holding my hand as we were mingling into the crowd of people staring at the attractions. She diligently explained to me what everything was, like it was my first time going to a country fair. It was entertaining to watch. She was a really cute kid and honestly, after so many days of self-imposed isolation, it was nice to interact with people in my free time.

“So, how’s it like being back in your hometown again?” Mellie asked, once Sadie ran over to her dad.

“Nice, peaceful.” Or that’s how it should have been, if I’d been a little smarter. “But it’s gonna take a bit of getting used to. It’s definitely keeping me busy. My roof just started leaking, something I never thought I’d have to experience, but hooray for adult life,” I laughed.

“Did you get it fixed?” she asked, a little concerned.

“No, not yet. Called a couple of contractors, but they didn’t have any opening this month.” I sighed. “I don’t have that many contacts in the area, but I’ll keep looking and hope there won’t be rain anytime soon.”

“That sucks,” she said and turned to her brother. “Hey Jimmy,” she yelled, “do you know anyone who can fix a roof?”

“What happened to it?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, truthfully. “It’s just raining into my living room.”

“I can come take a look when I’m free. If it’s not something big I can fix it for you.” He offered.

“Thanks, but…” Was I stupid enough to refuse? Yes.

“You don’t trust my skills?”

“Oh, I do, but I don’t want you to waste your free time fixing my leaky roof.” It wasn’t just that. I generally preferred to work with people I didn’t know, who were paid to do a job and with who I could argue at the end if the job wasn’t done properly. With friends and family, you just accept what you get, smile and then pay someone else to fix it later. Plus, if they refused payment, you’d have to find a way to make it up to them which meant more complications. And in this particular case I knew I shouldn’t be spending more time with Clyde or his family if I wanted my unrequited crush to die anytime soon. But how do I tell Jimmy that, when he seemed so eager to help?

“It’s no problem. I’ll take a look and if it’s something I can’t do, I’ll put you in touch with some people. When are you free?”

“Not sure, my schedule isn’t fully decided yet.”

“Then give me a call and we’ll see what works for the both of us. Clyde gimme your phone.” That earned him a frown from his brother.

“Why? What happened to your phone?” he said on what I guessed was a rather disapproving tone, but handed him the phone nonetheless.

“It’s broken.”

“He forgot to pay for it,” Sadie explained with a giggle.

“I didn’t forget, I’m not paying it in sign of protests to the shitty plan they forced down my throat,” he muttered. “Anyway, what’s your number?”

He punched in the number and gave me a call. I typed the name Clyde but then changed my mind and saved it as ‘Logan Bros’. Clyde never really wanted my number, so it was just a way for me to get in touch with Jimmy if I needed help. I decided to never call it unless the roof caught fire and I was trapped underneath.

The phone went back to Clyde and I saw him fiddle with it a bit, probably saving the number. I wondered what he saved me as. Probably used my real name, since I’d never heard him call me Baby. Although for some strange reason, I wouldn’t have minded even if he did. No matter how much I hated the nickname, I was sure I’d very much enjoy it if he moaned it in my ear as he pulled me closer to his chest and… stop. Restrain yourself, woman.

Sadie kept her promise and was a very good guide, which meant I was now very well acquainted with everything at the country fair. Jimmy had bought us corn dogs and cheesy fries and donuts and refused to let me pay for anything, so I retaliated by buying everyone snow cones and funnel cake. By the time we reached the shooting galleries, I was so full I was ready to burst.

As Sadie was searching the booths for the toy she wanted I bought a bottle of water, hoping to wash away the nausea caused by all that deep fried food I had shoved down my throat earlier. Seeing that Clyde had fallen behind and we could finally be alone for a bit, I decided to go and talk to him.

“Sorry for crashing your family outing,” I said, standing besides him as we both watched Sadie’s quest to find the best toy. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s alright” he said, briefly glancing at me. “I have to apologize for how my brother acted today. I guess he’s just excited that you’re back in town. He doesn’t have that many friends.”

I had to admit that Jimmy Logan being lonely and not surrounded by hordes of friends was something that I would have never imagined. But I could see it now, after all we were both in the same position: two formerly popular kids that had fallen from grace and were now regular nobodies. Most friendships we made in our teens weren’t the kind that lasted a lifetime.

“I’m actually really enjoying this,” I said, trying to open the water bottle and failing. My hands were still very greasy from all that deep fried food. “But don’t tell anyone or I have a feeling I might get friend-dopted by your family and you’ll never get rid of me,” I said with a wink, to which he smiled. An actual smile. Directed at me.

“Lemme help you with that,” he said, noticing my pathetic attempt at opening the bottle. He held it under his left arm, effortlessly unscrewing the cap.

“I’m completely useless” I mumbled retrieving the bottle, and he chuckled.

In the meantime Sadie seemed to have found what she was looking for and dragged both Clyde and me towards one of the booths. She showed him what he wanted and after paying he was given a shabby airgun. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone look at a rifle with more contempt in their eyes. I was certain he was used to a different type of guns, especially since he had been in the military.

“Piece of crap,” he mumbled, to no one in particular, disgust clear in his voice.

“Welcome to the glamorous world of carnivals, Mr. Logan,” I laughed.

He shot me a dirty look and aimed. He missed the first two targets, but got the other three. It was still quite impressive, I was sure the only thing I’d be able to hit with any rifle would be my foot, especially since everyone knows the games are rigged and the guns aim screwed on purpose. He paid for another round and I kept my fingers crossed. Sadie had climbed onto her father’s shoulders and was cheering from above.

This time he got the first target with very little effort. And the second one. And the third. By the fourth I was probably as excited as Sadie, although a little less vocal. The fifth target came down just as effortlessly as the others and both Sadie and I cheered loudly. The vendor faked excitement and handed him the toy, making a bit of a spectacle to attract other customers. ‘Look everybody, you can win even with one arm!’ he bragged, and I hated him already, but Clyde didn’t even seem to notice.

“Which one do you want?” he asked Mellie, after giving Sadie her toy.

“One of those,” she said, pointing to a bunch of little plushies that could be hanged on the rearview mirror.

“Alright,” he said, and paid for another round. This time, it seemed like he didn’t even have to aim. He just pointed the rifle and the targets went down one after another, to the vendor’s increased irritation and to my delight.

Clyde gave the toy to his sister who thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, then turned to me. “Which one do you want?”

“Me?” I said, taken by surprise. “You want to get me one too?”

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The Haunting No Reply

Ghosting, everyone has experienced it and everyone has done it. But what is wrong with telling someone you aren’t interested? We seem to be in an age where we have to go off signals and behaviours of our own interpretations which only lead us down the rabbit hole of uncertainty falling into the all too familiar questions, why hasn’t he replied? Is he talking to other girls? Is he even interested? Should I have done this instead? Did I do something wrong? The last question being the biggest question that constantly plays on the mind which no doubt leads to - well what is wrong with me? Absolutely nothing! It’s on them and this was honestly one of the hardest things for me to get a hold of and since we are telling the truth, it is still hard to grasp at times.

As much as some of us don’t like to admit it, we are creatures of habit. Most of the time you can tell by a person’s behaviour how interested they are... for example, are they asking questions back or are they trying to end the conversation, what is the response rate like, are they now taking 5 seconds as opposed to 0.02 seconds to reply, where was my good morning message, who is suggesting the meet ups and what is the meet up, etc. We get attached to the routine of our communication with another. This is even with friends and family - for example, even though I live out of home, I will still message my parents when I go out of town to let them know I got to the destination safely. With potential partners you fall into this habit of knowing around what time they will message you throughout the day or know they aren’t available to chat at certain times due to sporting or other commitments. We can’t help it. So it’s when their behaviour changes the questions begin and your own behaviour changes... You are no longer the cool chilled chick you were a few days ago and you start to rattle your brain;

- Idiot! Why did you put hahaha when haha would have been plenty?

- Who is he with?

- What if I send one more message to see if he replies?

- Is my phone broken?

- Is their phone broken?

- I’ll send a Snapchat aimed for them but also generalised so they don’t think it was sent just to them

Now I’m going to use my favourite analogy, I came up with this one after a guy ghosted me then after a few months told me why. Go back to when we were talking, would I have been upset, yes, however, I would have dusted off gotten back up and moved on a lot quicker because by ghosting it meant it still had a hold in my mind as it always felt unfinished even though we knew it was done - closure, it’s what everyone needs but most of the time doesn’t get. By waiting that time it left me in my own head, which most will agree, is not the most ideal place to be. You only have yourself to battle with and more often than not you lose.

So anyway - my analogy, guys seem to treat us like porcelain dolls, wrapped tightly in bubble wrap, they unwrap us by being the guy we want them to be, take us on nice dates, one layer gone, message replies are instant and engaging, another layer gone, suggests future plans and wants to start including you in social events with friends, that’s me pretty much unwrapped exposing my delicate self for them to take care of. Then, then comes the ghosting. Guys see this delicate porcelain doll and they don’t want to break it so they place it on the shelf never to acknowledge it. It shouldn’t be the guys concern for breaking us, yes you leave some cracks but lucky we know how to put ourselves back together. It should be about how you handle it, place the doll on the shelf and it’ll eventually get knocked off, taking longer to be put back together, but wrap it back up in a layer of bubble wrap and it’s good to go to another home. Know what I’m saying!?

So how do we date? Lay it all on the table and see what they eat up? Or deliver ourselves in small courses to slowly get through the meal of getting to know someone?

I’m going to share a recent dating experience, this one was hook line and sinker direct, lay it all on the table.... Let’s call him B. B seemed super confident through texts, we had a pretty good first date discovering we had a lot in common and the potential for it to go further was on the table. I was right out of my comfort zone with this one only because he became very intense within a few hours.... yep I’m sticking to hours. We went from hey lets hang out again to hey I’ve told every man and his dog about you and me and they can’t wait to meet you, are you free 2025 for a family holiday oh and also what should we call our kids? Woah woah woah, lets back up about 50 steps and go on a second date. (I wish I was kidding but we hadn’t even had a second date).

So B was super intense, I didn’t really know how to handle it, do I ghost because his pursing was too much for me, do I be up front and say the all-time classic – it’s not you it’s me or do I play it out and see what happens. Maybe it’s just the hype of meeting or the excitement that we’ve clicked on a few levels, maybe, just maybe he will settle down with it after another date. Nope, second date came around and it was full steam ahead, are we a thing? Can we continue this? Do you want to meet my friends? When can I meet your friends? I’ll step to the side and I say I did get a little caught up with the prospect of it all knowing full well in the back of my head it wasn’t going to work long term and also in the background was my best friend holding up all the red flags and me being semi blinded to see them. Here’s where the story takes a turn, I can see where I went wrong on our second date but it is only while beginning to write this blog that I realised the domino affect it had on him.... by a silly (I thought funny, turns out not so much) comment I made and my change in behaviour over the days between dates he had begun to doubt himself and us together. He came across so confident at the start which was an attractive quality but suddenly, from my own observation - unable to confirm with him, I brought out some of his insecurities and I didn’t exactly comfort or acknowledge them which made me see a different side of him. He also went from showing full emotion to just blocking me out after trying to consult with him. In the end, when he had come to the conclusion I wasn’t the girl for him, he decided to ghost me. So we went from one extreme to another of messaging constantly and him providing ridiculous amounts of attention to nothing. This brings me to what I have found to be the different levels of ghosting;

1. The fade away - slowly stops replying, doesn’t use the same language in messages.

2. The “sorry been busy” - welcome to 2018 where we are constantly on our phones. If you can’t find a few moments to reply then you are not interested, kinda simple right?

3. The snapper - if you have each other on Snapchat the snaps will go from sending you more personal and funny things that remind you of the other to - look at my lunch, look at this dog, look at this pencil etc.

4. The Hello, are you still into me - will send messages every so often (mainly when drinking) to remind you that they are still there but also keep you at a distance as a back-up plan.

5. The mutual Ghost - where you are both on the same page of not being into each other but neither wants to end it so you both slowly go your separate ways.

AND of course! For the big finish

6. The cutter - everything is fine, he has been acting a little odd but nothing alarming, then wham bam thank you mam no reply and never hear from again (until you run into them at downstairs moose after one too many tequilas and start the cycle again).

So why ghost? Is it to save the persons feelings or is it more to avoid the awkward conversation around “what are we” because I can assure you both suck just as much. Of course no one likes rejection, I have never met someone who has said, hi I’m Stacey, my likes include being rejected and my dislikes are pineapple on pizza, I mean a girl likes her beauty therapist but isn’t thrilled by getting waxed. Where does this option of ghosting come into play? I personally would much prefer the “hey I’m just not that into you” message then you switch on me faster than Will Smith - turn around now - switch - never to speak again. For the guys and girls that think they are preserving the others feelings I’m sorry to say you aren’t.

Got a fair way through writing this blog before I thought I should get the perspective of my mates that have gone through ghosting and I got more than I wanted; she wrote about how she did the haunting without the realisation of how it affected the other, here’s a snippet of what she wrote;

“Guys have feelings too!

One of my guy friends said to me and at the time I always wondered why. Now years later I have reflected on his words and understand his situation. He was wanting me to want him and I was not the girl to do it.

I was not his person, but he was weighing it up in his head.”

Which brings me trying to speak on behalf of the male gender... wish me luck. Ok so I know girls can be just as bad when it comes to ghosting and games. Hearing stories of girls just using guys for attention or keeping them in their pocket until their Prince Charming comes along and I 110% don’t agree with this. It’s selfish, unkind and straight up a dick move. But its girls like that, that will often complain the most about mistreatment from guys. Which if you learn anything from this blog let it be this - treat a potential partner the way you want to be treated. You want to play mind games, expect them back, you want to stir and create jealously, don’t be shocked when it happens to you. To summarise - Don’t expect to be treated like a Princess when you treat them like a frog.

We can keep coming back to we don’t know another’s situations so many times before someone asks the question, well how do we know if we don’t try? Good question with no helpful answer. You can only try; you can line up 15 dates in a week and have 3 of them cancelled, 5 of them ghost you, 2 of them not your type, 3 of them just looking for a hook up and the other 2 being put into the potential bucket. You can let all this get to you or you can face it, claim it and get back on that horse.

I dated this one guy, you could put us in a blank white room and we would be entertained for hours by each other’s company, we could talk about the paint drying on the wall and it would be interesting. We had a lot in common and there was no pressure to be anyone but yourself, it was an incredible feeling. And then he ghosted me..... I’ve been ghosted plenty of times but I don’t think I will ever quite understand what happened with this one. Usually you can at least pick up little things, but the battle in my head says it was timing and his head space with the added reminder that it isn’t all on me. Ghosting doesn’t always hurt, but this one did. But hey, here I am dusted off writing about it and soldiering on. Because there is only so many times I can ask a brick wall why before the realisation of me not getting any answer becomes clear as day.

Andddd what’s the point of this all? Well a few things, ghosting is not the most ideal way to end things, but it is a common one, just be mindful of the situation and the other person before you leave them on read. Better to rip off the band aid!

As always here are some handy tips to finish this blog;

1. Every fairytale has an ever after and sometimes that ever after isn’t with that person, you’ll find your prince/princess soon

2. Don’t take it personally if you get ghosted, you have probably done it too

3. The reason behind why you get ghosted is not a reflection on you as a person

4. Honesty remains the best policy

5. Go out, have fun and you stay classy San Diego

[floralseokjin]

— off limits | 07 (m)

you've been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can't ignore the sexual tension that's simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…

pairing | kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings | romance, smut and drama !! who’s about to be found out ?? words | 9,472

» 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07 :: 08  ✓

“Jin, have you seen my underwear?” You called from his room, only to be met with silence.

You knew he was in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast when you’d gone in the shower, but once you’d gotten dressed again you couldn’t find your panties. You had your bra but it was getting very breezy under your skirt right now. You bent down to look under his bed as you gripped the mattress, maybe they’d fallen under when he’d taken them off last night.

Last night…just thinking about it made your heart jump around wildly. This morning Seokjin had surprised you with breakfast in bed and you’d wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around his strong physique and drag him back under the covers with you. But you couldn’t…because Yoongi was probably back any minute now and you couldn’t chance it. You scowled to yourself at the thought but stood back up, straightening your skirt out because you were still pantie-less, the least you could do was make sure you weren’t winking at anyone as you made your way home…

“Jin,” you whined, moving into the kitchen now as you leant against the door. “Have you seen my underwear?”

You watched him by the sink for a moment as he rinsed the plates you’d used. Sadly, he wasn’t shirtless but he still looked delectable; white shirt stretched over his shoulders and black sweats slung low around his hips. It wasn’t until he’d stacked them in the dryer he turned to acknowledge you, a suspicious smirk stretched across his face that instantly had you narrowing your eyes.

“You mean these?” He pondered, faux-innocence in his tone as he stretched his hand into his pocket and your eyes widened when you saw the dark fabric wrapped around his fingers.

“Seokjin!” You scolded, walking towards him with your hand outstretched. “Give them back!”

“No,” he shrugged like a stubborn child, turning back to grab a towel.

“What do you mean no?” You insisted, coming up behind him to try and snake your hand in his pocket and retrieve your valuables but he shifted last minute, giggling as he pressed his side against the cupboard, cutting off any access to your underwear.

“You expect me to leave here without my panties? What if my skirt flies up?” You tried to bargain, wrestling him now but he was strong and you couldn’t win, his laughter only getting louder.

“Fine!” He gave in after a moment, only when you restarted to tickling, your own giggling blending in with his. “But only if you kiss me before you go.” He turned around and watched you indignantly, as if he had to resort to blackmail with you.

“You act like I would never say yes,” you said with a raised brow, pressing your body into his and he wrapped his arms around your hips instantly, holding you tight as he dipped his head, mouth millimetres away from yours.

“Yoongi’s probably due back like any moment now,” you sighed, knowing you shouldn’t be this reckless, but because you literally had zero self-control when it came to Seokjin, you let him kiss you, pecking at his lips hungrily back.

“It’s still early,” he hummed against your mouth.

“We don’t want to mess this up right now,” you told him, breaking away for a moment and he looked mildly annoyed because he knew you were right.

If you wanted to tell Kyuho properly soon you needed to be more careful from now on. You couldn’t risk him finding out from other sources, putting two and two together to make five. You both needed time to formulate a plan and make Kyuho see that you were both very serious about this.

“I guess,” he huffed, pulling away unwillingly. “It’s not fair, I want to spend the day with you—in bed—” he stopped when he saw you shoot him a look, backtracking slightly, “—because I missed you so much and now that you’re my girlfriend I just want to hold you everyday, all day—

“Ew, okay,” you stopped him, trying to pull away as he began kissing your neck, making loud and obnoxious noises, even thought the title girlfriend still had you feeling like a giddy schoolgirl. “You spent plenty of time in bed with me,” you told you, looking up at him as he broke away from your neck, “—once, twice and half a third time,” you recalled, wondering how you’d managed to have sex so much in one night, although the last had been you trying to coax him to stay in bed by means of a very excessive blow job.

“That reminds me I still have to pay you back for this morning,” he realised, hands now trailing to your ass but you swatted them away.

“Quit it,” you whined. It wasn’t fair. You wanted him too but you had to get home.

He groaned loudly but listened, cupping your face now to give you one last sweet kiss before he brought a hand to his pocket, retrieving your underwear. “Fine, but I’m going to phone you tonight, so be prepared to stay on the phone for a couple of ours—we have to decide how we’re going to tell Kyuho after all…”

You went to reply but truth was, still knowing he was so serious about this left you speechless. You were still having a hard time believing last night was real, but no, here you were the next day, proof that Seokjin was 100% truthful when he said he wanted to make this official.

Mouth open, about to agree with him, you paused when you heard a key in the front door. Your eyes widened to twice their size when you realised it was Yoongi, looking back at Seokjin to see his were just the same. You broke apart instantly and he shoved your panties back in his pocket, hissing to you as Yoongi opened the door and entered through the threshold, “Stay calm—follow my lead.”

You nodded quickly, standing up straight and smoothing your hair down, glad you hadn’t washed it this morning because otherwise that would be another question you couldn’t explain. Followed by the major one Yoongi was probably going to wonder, why the hell were you here anyway?!

The living room and kitchen were practically open plan anyway so when Yoongi closed the door and turned to walk forward he noticed you both standing by the sink straight away. He froze for a moment and you were just about to have a mental breakdown and confess right there on the spot, beg for him not to tell your brother, when he coughed a little to clear his throat, greeting you both casually, “Hey.”

There was a silence as you both processed it and then you looked over at Jin, urging him to say something, he had said after all, to follow his lead. He stumbled for a moment, as if his voice box wasn’t working correctly and then he was greeting Yoongi right back.

“Hey, man! Where have you been?”

“I just went to get some groceries,” he motioned, lifting his arm up that was holding the paper bag. “I w—

“Yeah, Y/N was just here because Kyuho left his cell charger the other night,” Seokjin interrupted, sounding just as forced as him trying to act casual right now and you inwardly facepalmed.

“Oh,” was all Yoongi said, glancing at you for a moment and as your eyes met and you nodded your head in greeting, he looked to the floor immediately. You began to feel nervous but maybe you were just paranoid. He couldn’t know anything, he’d only just got here. Yes, Jin’s excuse had been shitty but it was still semi believable, especially when someone was as oblivious as Yoongi.

“Yeah, so…” Seokjin trailed off, shooting you a look as if to tell you something and you puzzled your forehead, slow to catch on.

“Yeah, so if that’s all he wanted,” he continued for you, “tell him I’ll see him soon, probably in class…”

It took you a moment to realise what he meant right now and you glared at him—he was expecting you to leave without your underwear?! Couldn’t you both wait until Yoongi had gone to his room so he could give you it back? Seokjin stared you down, shoulders tense as he nodded his head towards the front door. Yup, he really wanted you to leave… You inwardly cried a little, knowing you’d have to walk back holding your skirt down and give one last pitiful look towards Jin, which he pulled a face to, looking guilty.

“Yeah ok, will do,” you forced a grin, beginning to walk through the living room and towards the door. “Bye, Seokjin,” you shot over your shoulder, to which he mouthed a sorry, making sure Yoongi wasn’t looking. “Bye, Yoongi,” you mumbled as you walked past him, and he looked you in the eye long enough to bid you goodbye too.

Outside you were left with a breeze between your legs and the desperate attempt to try and not let your skirt blow up as you began walking. You took out your phone from your bag to text Seokjin.

10:11am [You] 

— you fucker, you owe me — if I get sick I’m telling Kyuho myself and it won’t be in your favour :’)

❁❁❁❁

“I didn’t know you were into wearing women’s underwear now,” Yoongi stated from beside Seokjin and he froze immediately, the back of his neck breaking out into a cold sweat.

“W-hat?” He stuttered out, turning to look at his friend, your underwear in his pocket suddenly weighing a ton.

Yoongi had put away his groceries in complete silence and Seokjin was now wishing he’d gone back into his bedroom straight away because then there would have been little chance of Yoongi noticing the accountable item.

“The black lace hanging out your pocket,” he deadpanned, face weirdly serious, although Seokjin hardly noticed because he was shoving his fist into the hole, heart dropping when sure enough the delicate garment was peeking out. He shoved it back in, ignoring the thudding of his heart as he tried to think of an excuse on the spot—for the second time this morning.

“I…I hooked up last night,” he finally got out, hoping it was believable enough.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“You—wait, h-how?” Jin panicked, face turning white.

Yoongi hadn’t been here last night, had he? He tried to rack his brains to remember if Yoongi’s door had been open or closed when he’d brought you back. Yoongi always left it open when he was out but for the life of him he couldn’t remember at all. Fuck, what had he heard? This was his worst nightmare.

“I came back from Eunji’s early because her friend was having some kind of post-breakup meltdown,” Yoongi shrugged. “I thought you must have been asleep but next thing I hear is some kind of mantra of your name and bed springs sounding like they were a second away from snapping.”

“Shit,” Seokjin breathed, although it was more to himself. Yoongi had heard you guys have sex? What else did he hear? He looked up at his friend, trying to read his expression but it was pretty blank and he let himself relax a little. It was all okay.

“Sorry about that, dude—little embarrassing,” he apologised.

“No problem,” Yoongi brushed off, opening a cupboard to look for a pot.

That should have calmed Seokjin down even more, but for some reason there was still some weird tension in the air. Ever since Yoongi had come through the door he’d been acting weird, and it wasn’t just because he’d heard his friend have sex—he’d probably heard that countless times before. There was something else up with him. He hadn’t even acknowledged your existence, not really. Yoongi wasn’t rude, so what was it?

“What I want to know is…” Yoongi began, pausing as he pulled the pot out and put it on the worktop and Jin’s heart dropped once again. This didn’t sound good…

“How did you manage to hook up with someone when you were working all last night?”

“I-I,” he stuttered. There could have been plenty of reasons why; like he could’ve already known said hookup and planned it knowing Yoongi was out, or he could have run into an old flame at work. They all seemed like solid white lies if he’d had a chance to think for a moment.

“And,” Yoongi added, looking at him now, mildly judgemental. “Why the fuck did it have to be Kyuho’s sister?”

Silence hung heavy in the air, Seokjin’s heart literally stopping when his friend dropped the bombshell. You could probably hear a pin drop on the floor it was so quiet and all he could think to do was deny everything. Straight away. It was ingrained in him. Especially about something so serious.

He scoffed loudly, desperate to keep his composure even though he was 100% sure he was bright red at this point. “What? You’re crazy—

“Don’t even try to deny it,” Yoongi cut him. “I heard you moaning her name this morning.”

Seokjin couldn’t think of a way to get himself out of this one. Not at all. He’d been idiotic and now he’d gone and got you guys caught. He probably should have never invited you back to his, no matter how much he had wanted to be with you again last night.

“I thought I may have been imagining it,” Yoongi carried on when he didn’t reply. “Maybe some other girl had the same name, so I give you the benefit of the doubt and left for a bit hoping you’d kick your conquest out before I got back, but no,” he shook his head dramatically, “she was still here and she was Y/N!! Just like I thought!”

“It’s not what you think,” he shot, adamant for Yoongi to believe him.

“Really? Because it seems like it’s exactly what I think,” Yoongi exasperated, wide eyed. “Look, I’m not one to judge but it’s a pretty dick thing to do to your own friend.”

Seokjin sighed loudly, annoyed. “I know, okay? But it’s not like that at all—It’s different with her.”

Yoongi paused for a moment, taking in what Seokjin had said before he groaned an oh no. “Don’t tell me it’s been going on for a while, that means you’re gonna hurt her too—how do you think you’re gonna get out of it?”

“I don’t want to,” he shook his head in shock. Why was he always the bad guy? There were plenty worse guys out there, and to be honest, Yoongi knew nothing about his relationship with you. He wasn’t even giving him a chance to explain properly.

“You’re an idiot—am I like, the only sane guy around here?” He exasperated.

Hm, that was questionable coming from the guy who fucked a melon, but okay.

“So, what? You’re just going to keep having sex with her, messing around behind your best friend’s back—” Yoongi paused and shot Seokjin a look when he went to interrupt and he groaned in frustration before his friend was carrying on “—she’s going to fall for you! Of course she is, you’re Kim-fucking-Seokjin!”

“Will you listen to me,” he finally got in, practically stomping his feet. “I like her.”

“Yeah for now,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes after processing his confession. “You’re gonna get bored of her and then what?! She’s going to tell Kyuho and he’s gonna be pissed, to put it nicely!”

“I’m going to tell Kyuho,” he insisted, stressing a “soon” straight after and Yoongi frowned, seemingly speechless now, thank the lord.

“You haven’t been listening to me,” he carried on. “I like Y/N, a lot, okay? More than I’ve ever liked any girl in my life.” Yoongi didn’t look like he really believed him, but at least he looked intrigued, even if it was mostly down to scepticism.

“Trust me, it was a shock to me as well, but I realised that I want her, more than just for a bit of fun, more than just a couple of weeks, months—hell, I just want to be with her and tell Kyuho and make him see how honest I am.”

“Jin, I don’t ever think he’s going to believe you,” he chuckled lightly.

“I’ll make him, don’t worry. He’ll see I’m serious,” Seokjin assured and he must have been pretty damn believable this time because even Yoongi began to acknowledge him differently.

“Fuck,” he chuckled again, running his hands through his hair. “I’m like so speechless right now.

“You just can’t say anything for the time being, alright?” Seokjin told him, suddenly turning serious. “We’re trying to find the right time to tell him and we don’t want to mess it up—Y/N’ll freak when she finds out you know.”

“Like I dream on it,” Yoongi scoffed, “you can sign your own death warrant.”

“Gee, thanks for the support,” he griped sarcastically. All he wanted was to be taken seriously, but on that cue—

“I just don’t see how he’s going to take you seriously when he finds out you’ve been nailing his sister all this time behind his back—how long has it been anyway?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes immediately. “Three or four months, but hey, don’t speak like that about her—I haven’t been nailing her, that’s so crude,” he told him with a wrinkle of the nose.

“Making sweet, passionate love then, whatever it is you’ve been up to behind everyone’s backs,” Yoongi shrugged him off with a disgusted face. “Jesus, you’re acting weird.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes again. He wasn’t acting weird at all, he was just defensive over you. He cared about you so much and he was just thankful you’d given him another chance, because he knew he probably didn’t deserve one. He’d acted like an idiot and you’d forgiven him and taken him back—put all your trust in him. Which wasn’t going so well now that Yoongi had found out.

“It’s nothing, I just really thought I’d lost her until last night but now everything makes sense again,” he tried to explain, ignoring his friend’s look of disbelief, as if he’d had a brain transplant or something.

“Look, Kyuho means a lot to me, of course he does—but I’m not going to ruin mine and Y/N’s happiness. We mean a lot to each other and if his sister’s happy that should mean something right?”

“I think it’s who makes her happy that could be the problem,” Yoongi pointed out and to that Jin had to agree.

“Just tell him soon, okay? If I found out it means you’re getting messy so before you fuck it up even more, rip off the bandaid…” he told him and Seokjin nodded, feeling a little nervous.

He was right, it had to be soon.

“…or maybe you’ll be needing a bandaid once you enlighten him,” Yoongi muttered, finally getting around to making his breakfast.

“Shut up,” Seokjin pushed him slightly for teasing, but he couldn’t stop the gulp he had to take at the thought…

He was going to have to come up with a plan, and soon…

“I definitely should tell him, I’m his sister.”

“I’m his best friend,” Seokjin argued and you rolled your eyes.

You’d been bickering for the past couple of weeks ever since he’d let slip that Yoongi knew about you both. He’d tried to keep it a secret at first, but had thought better than that thankfully. Lies and more secrecy wasn’t the way forward and he’d finally confessed a couple of days into your reconciliation.

You’d been in full blown panic mood ever since, scared that if one person had found out so easily, it was only a matter of time before someone else did. Seokjin had tried to point out that Sunmi already knew too, but that was different. There was never hardly a time when she was in such close proximity with your brother—Yoongi saw him practically every day! He also bored a loyalty towards his friend. Even if he swore he wasn’t going to tell him, (you’d lost count of how many times Jin had told you “he doesn’t want anything to do with it, he won’t say anything”,) that still didn’t mean he couldn’t give the game away. This was a huge secret he was living with and you didn’t trust someone you hardly knew. One slip up and it was game over.

“Blood’s thicker than water,” you told him curtly.

“My blood will be clotting if I don’t get to explain to him properly,” he exclaimed, groaning loudly as his head fell back against the headrest of the backseat of his car. “He’s gonna kick my ass.”

“All the more reason for me to tell him,” you pointed out, leaning your head into his shoulder. You’d both scrambled into the back of his vehicle after a drive, the only time you could get some alone time together now because there was no way you were chancing going around his place again, or anywhere that wasn’t not on the outskirts of town, that was for sure.

“I can butter him up.”

For the past couple of weeks you hadn’t had the most romantic of reunions. Most of the time you spent together was virtual, texting or calling one another, trying to formulate a plan, although it wasn’t going so well. When you weren’t bickering over the phone you were doing so in person and tonight was no different. Instead of making out and dry humping in the back of his car, you were arguing about who should he the one to tell him.

You and he were both so stubborn that it was impossible to make a decision. You both wanted to be the ones who told Kyuho and there was no relenting on either ends. You were his sister, so it would only be right if you told him. Kyuho would obviously act softer towards you and you could try to wrap him around your little finger—sibling manipulation was always the best way to go, it didn’t work the same with best friends.

But Seokjin didn’t see it like that. For one, he thought it was his duty to tell Kyuho himself, the right thing to do if he wanted to show him how serious he was about you. While you agreed, it still didn’t sit right with you to be left out of the conversation completely.

While telling Sunmi one night, who by the way, had come around to the idea of you and Seokjin now, although that was probably because you had used Brian against her. It was only right that if she got to forgive and make up with him, the major asshat who cheated on her that one time, then you could do the same regarding Jin, who kind of looked like an angel compared to that... Also, if you could could give Brian the benefit of the doubt, then she could do the same for Seokjin…

Anyway, she’d suggested you tell your brother together. You weren’t convinced at first, but now it seemed to be the only way. At least that way Kyuho could see both sides at the same time and realise how serious you both were. Seokjin seemed opposed to the idea at first, but he had to agree it seemed like the only option, and after an hour’s discussion in his car, it was finally decided. It was either that or let him find out on his own and no one wanted that at…at all.

“Okay, so, we’ll tell him together then,” you affirmed, looking up at him.

“I think it’s the best way,” he nodded.

“After the party at yours tomorrow, next morning we’ll do it, no turning back,” you whispered, finalising everything in your mind.

Kyuho had begged Jin and Yoongi to throw a ‘get together’ at theirs this weekend and you were beyond a little nervous. Sneaking around behind his back was no longer as exciting as it used to be because now you and Seokjin were serious. There was no need to hide it anymore, that’s why on the Sunday you were going to sit him down and tell Kyuho, who hopefully wouldn’t be a nursing a killer hangover because that wouldn’t work in your favour.

“No turning back,” Seokjin muttered, wrapping his arm around you suddenly and tucking you into his chest.

You placed your hand down, feeling his heartbeat. It was pounding a little quicker than usual and you closed your eyes, mumbling a little, “I’m nervous.”

“Same, babe, but we got to do it,” he sighed loudly, and you could hear him run his free hand through his hair. “We can’t keep sneaking around because we are like this close to getting caught,” he stressed, squeezing his thumb and index finger together.

“We could run away, elope to the countryside,” you suggested with a joke.

“That will be plan b if it all goes wrong,” he said, shifting you in his arms. “Look, just so you know,” he began and you sat up to look at him, furrowing your eyebrows when you saw his face was uncharacteristically serious. “If this doesn’t work out and Kyuho’s super pissed, forbids me to see you or something—

“We don’t live in the 19th century, Seokjin,” you interrupted. You didn’t like it when he was being serious, because deep down you knew there was a high chance Kyuho actually wouldn’t want you guys to see one another.

“I know, but just in case,” he told you, running his hands through your hair. “Just know i’ll understand, okay? Family comes first.”

“I won’t listen if he tries to stop me from seeing you,” you urged, stubborn to the bone, that was you.

“Of course you won’t,” he chuckled lightly, letting you go to place your head back against his chest. You got comfy immediately, the feeling of his warmth never getting old.

“Let’s just try to think on the positive side,” you hummed.

He hummed back, squeezing both of his arms around you now as he spoke into your hair, the vibrations making you sleepy.

“Star crossed lovers, that’s what we’re like,” and you couldn’t help but smile, amused by his cheesiness. “The forbidden, the reckless, the unlucky—

“Shut up,” you giggled, twisting slightly to lift your head up and view him. You were pleased to see he at least had a smile on his face now.

“Kiss me and then maybe I will.”

You rolled your eyes, but granted his wish, pressing your lips flush to his…

You were incredibly dumb…or tipsy. Yes, you blamed that one vodka and coke you’d had at the beginning of the night. You probably shouldn’t have even come here tonight but you’d insisted it would be better if you did, double the eyes to keep on Yoongi. Seokjin had just rolled his eyes, he’d told you numerous times now that Yoongi wouldn’t spill the beans. But you couldn’t take the chance, not when you were so close.

Which just made what you were doing right now even more stupid… Yes, you were an idiot, but what was new. You’d been reckless this whole time so you may as well go out in style…

11:23pm [You]

— come to yoongi’s room

11:26pm [Seokjin]

— why

11:26pm [You]

— it’s a surprise — hurry up !!!

11:27pm [Seokjin]

— I don’t like the sound of this

You rolled your eyes but no sooner had he sent the text, Yoongi’s bedroom door was opening slowly. Seokjin’s head popped around the corner and when he saw you lying on Yoongi’s bed his eyes practically fell out of his head.

“Y/N!” He whispered furiously, rushing inside and locking the door in one clean motion, even shaking the door handle madly to make sure it was truly secure.

“What are you doing?!”

“Missing you,” you shrugged.

“You’ve seen me all night,” he groaned, but he walked towards you anyway, and you sat up, feet hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Not to speak to, or touch, or kiss…” you trailed off, looking up at him as you ran your hand over his stomach.

“Because there’s good reason for that!” He told you, still whispering and you rolled your eyes again. “Kyuho’s just in the living room, and why are you in Yoongi’s room of all places?” He added, looking behind him as he batted your hand away, like someone could come through the door even though it was locked.

“Less risky,” you shrugged again.

“Less?! Try more! Look i’m going to leave and then you do the same in a few minutes—

“But where’s the fun in that?” You whined, hand now playing with the hem of his t-shirt and he weakly tried to push it away, but he ended up holding it limply instead.

“Are you drunk?” He asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes.

You shook your head. “Nope, just merry, and trying to enjoy my last night of sneaking around.”

“Forget it,” he said, dropping your hand. “Sneaking around is bad and we have like less than 24 hours to go, so I’ll prefer it if we don’t get caught at the last minute.”

“Buuut,” you pouted, tugging at his shirt now, “it’s the end of an era. Sneaking around is bad, but that’s why we won’t be doing it anymore. Think of this as the send off.”

Seokjin judged you for a moment but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re crazy—I’m crazy,” he finally sighed, head falling back to reveal his long neck, and you gulped he little. He was so hot you were constantly speechless. “We have to be quick, okay?”

You grinned, silently celebrating your triumph, raising an eyebrow to tell him cooly, “it really didn’t take you long to be persuaded.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes then, a playful but cheesy “I’m weak when it comes to you, I can’t say no,” leaving him and you pulled a face, one of your hands gripping his hip as you pulled him to stand directly in front of you.

“Lame,” you shot, taking your other hand to run the fingers over his crotch.

This was the perfect height, your face level with his dick and groped him, hearing his breath hitch a little as he couldn’t help but jut into your touch. It still amazed you how you could get him hard so easily. Even now, barely touching him over his jeans he was growing stiffer by the second, bulge forming against your palm as you rubbed.

He waited patiently as you began to unzip his fly, knowing you didn’t have much time to drag this out. He shuffled on his feet, looking behind him for a second, just to check the door. You knew he was anxious, you were too, but the exhilaration was already beginning to flow through your veins. This was the final time everything would be a secret, come tomorrow everything would be different. You were nervous for that too, maybe that’s why you were here now, trying to ease yourself, scared of what may come when you told Kyuho; trying to hide in the familiar.

You tugged his jeans down his hips, letting them settle against his thighs as you slid your hand into his underwear, feeling the warm, smooth skin of his dick. He gasped a little and that’s when one of his hands came out to hold your shoulder, gaze now back on you, watching you intently as you took him in your fist and began to bob up and down, his semi-hard dick now turning solid.

“What are you doing?” He asked with a smile, eyes twinkling as he watched you push his underwear down to meet his jeans, his dick now out and standing fully engorged in your hand.

“Oh, fuck,” he let out when you dipped your chin and took the head of him in your mouth, suckling lightly as you looked up at him to see his head was thrown back, a breathless chuckle leaving him.

“Remember that first time in my kitchen?” You whispered, pulling away to address him and he nodded, looking back your face as his free hand snaked into the back of hair, fingers lacing through the strands.

You continued to jerk him a little with your fist, slowly and firm, dragging your palm over him, making him moan quickly. “That was hot, I still think about it,” you told him and he nodded, opening his mouth to agree.

“Same—shit—“ but his train of thought was interrupted when you spat on the head of his dick, just like that first night. It glooped down his member as he gasped loudly, and you quickly caught the liquid with your fingers and continued to pleasure him, the extra lubricant now making each wash of your hand infinitely slicker.

“Are you trying to kill me?!” He got out, whining slightly and closing his eyes. You hoped he was recalling that night in your house and you guessed he was when his dick began to twitch and grow hotter in your palm, sticky sounds filling your ears.

You dipped your chin again, taking him inside the warmth of your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip, muscle digging into the slit, causing Seokjin to stagger for a moment. You took him deeper, using your hand as extra stimulation. Every time you popped off him, you’d run your fist over the hard flesh, beginning a rhythm that was wet but easy, palm gliding over him it was so slick with your saliva.

“Fuck, fuck, keep going,” he husked when you took him even deeper, using your fist as a barrier now and you squeezed around the base, flicking your tongue against the underside of his cock.  

Both of Seokjin’s hands were now laced in your hair, gripping the roots as he tugged a little, urging you to take him deeper. “Mhm, you like sucking my dick,” he grunted and you moaned around him, vibrations causing him to shudder. “Yeah? How much? Show me,” he gloated almost.

He loved knowing you wanted him, craved him and well, you aimed to please. Making sure to lock eye contact, you flattened the hand that was around the base of his dick, lifting up his shirt a little to splay your fingers out against his groin, feeling the muscles contract in anticipation. You braced yourself, inhaling a large breath through your nose before you began to force his cock down your throat, trying to get as deep as you could go.

Seokjin’s breath shuddered as he watched you with wide eyes, jaw slack with pleasure as he tried not to make a sound. He used his hands in your hair to tilt your head a little, making it easier for you to relax your throat and take him so deep the tip of your nose touched your knuckles of the hand on his body. You calmed yourself, breathing from the nose and then you swallowed. Just once, because you knew it would make you gag and you didn’t want to bring unwanted attention to yourselves and he grunted, forcibly trying to shut down his throat to stop himself from making a noise now. His fingertips pressed against your scalp because of the squeeze, still gripping your head when you released him, eyes hopeful for more.

“Fuck,” he breathed, adam’s apple bobbing rapidly as he swallowed, “you’re so good to me.”

You continued to give him more, eager to please, although not as deep, just making sure to give him the best and most enjoyable suck of his life, his dick now sopping with your saliva, loud slurping noises filling the room as you bobbed your head up and down, flicking and swirling your tongue around his rigid length and sucking the head, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum, which was now doubling in quantity each time you came back up, your hand meeting each of your movements once again as your jaw began to ache a little from the haste of wanting to make him come.

It didn’t seem like he was far off anyway, his eyes shut and his forehead scrunched together as he concentrated on the pleasure, trying to forget where he really was so he could relax. His breathing became uneven as his body grew rigid and you began to rake your fist against him quicker, sliding up and down as you focused on pleasuring the most sensitive part of of him, sucking lightly on the engorged head of his cock, and lapping your tongue against him, like he was popsicle.

“Gonna cum,” he let out shakily, and you kept at the rhythm, wet noises now louder and you hummed against his flesh, looking up at him from your lashes as you pursed your lips against the flush tip.

Wrinkled in pleasure, you watched his face contort and he gasped a little as he came. You made sure to use your tongue to drink up the white liquid, swallowing as you went and relishing the taste as you continued to watch him; his muscles relaxing now and so was his grip on your head until he let go completely, sliding his palms to your face as you cleaned him off, breath still shaky and and voice thick with the effect.

“Do you think I have time to get you off too?”

“I hope,” you admitted, watching him lean down to connect your mouths.

You quickly reciprocated, rushing to slip his dick back into his underwear as he pushed you down on the bed, tongue eager to feel yours against his and your hands shot to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as he pressed his body against you, growing inpatient as his lips fell to your neck, sucking against the sensitive flesh that already had you moaning. You were wet, you could feel your panties stuck to your core, and each time his leg pressed against you, pleasure shot through your body. You wanted him to do something. You wanted to feel his hands on you—

Suddenly, the bedroom door handle made a noise, like somebody was trying to rattle it and get in and then there was a small knock. Both your bodies tensed up instantly, Jin breaking away from your neck to freeze motion and stare down at you, wide eyed.

“Fuck,” he muttered, too scared to move and the silence that followed as you waited was the longest and most painful of your life, heart thudding loudly against your rib cage.

“Seokjin?”

You looked at each other, relief flooding you both, anxiety slightly wearing off when you recognised the voice. It was Yoongi. Out of all the people it could have been, boy were you relieved that it was him.

“Y/N? I know you’re in there! Open my door, now,” he carried on, hissing to keep his voice down. He sounded beyond annoyed and you grimaced a little as Seokjin rose off your body with groan. You sat up quickly, watching him drag his jeans up at lightning speed.

“Yeah, h-hang on sec,” he stuttered out, turning to face you, probably checking if you were decent and then he went to the door, unlocking it slowly before he paused and let out a small sigh, the he opened it slowly.

“What the hell are you doing?” Yoongi half-shouted, barging in and looking around, spotting you sitting on his bed. “And in my room too?”

“We were just talking,” Jin shrugged, coming to stand next you.

“Bullshit,” Yoongi shot. “Your fly is undone,” and with that Seokjin looked down with a mumble of oh shit before doing it up quickly.  

“What are you both playing at? Are you fucking stupid? Kyuho is just down the hall,” he exclaimed. “If I noticed you gone, other people probably did too!”

“Hey, don’t speak to us like we’re kids!” Seokjin bickered, sounding embarrassed. “You only thought to come looking for us because you know already!”

“He’s right though,” you cut in, looking at Jin. You were both incredibly stupid had it was a wonder how you both hadn’t got caught yet. This party wasn’t even that big, just a few friends and such. The music wasn’t exactly loud and nobody was drunk, meaning they weren’t going to be oblivious. No wonder Yoongi had noticed something was up.

“This was just the last time, we’re telling my brother tomorrow,” you told Yoongi, trying to show him you were as sincere as possible.

“Hm,” he contemplated, looking dubious. “I don’t know if I believe you or not…”

“It’s the truth,” Seokjin quipped, folding his arms and becoming defensive.

“Well, why try and sabotage it?” Yoongi countered and you had to admit, he was once again correct. You were both idiotic, but you had only suggested this because you wanted to ease some of the nerves you felt. Now, you just wished you never had. This was just embarrassing.

Neither of you replied for a while, because there was no retaliation to be had, not even from Seokjin, who was the king of comebacks. After a moment of eyeballing between the two older boys, he sighed loudly. “Okay, are you done telling us off now?”

“No,” Yoongi replied hastily, sounding even more irked now, “did you fuck in my bed?”

“Ew, gross,” Seokjin shot back and your cheeks grew red at the accusation, which only grew worse when Yoongi shot him a look of doubt.

“No, nothing happened on your bed,” Jin tried again, which was technically true. He’d been standing up after all, while you had been sat on the edge of it.

“I’m still washing my sheets,” he told you both.

“Whatever,” Seokjin rolled his eyes, “okay, let’s go before this looks really suspicious.”

“Fine,” Yoongi snapped. “You first,” he told him. “Then me, then Y/N, to avoid getting caught,” he explained and you stood up, following them both to the door.

“You know, I’ll be so happy when this isn’t a secret anymore. The stress is taking years off my life,” Yoongi sighed dramatically as Seokjin opened the door to leave first.

“Shut up. You’ve known for a couple of weeks,” he grumbled back, shooting Yoongi a look before smiling at you. “I’ll see you outside.”

When the coast was clear you and Yoongi both left, one after the other. You’d successfully eased your way back into the party and were now sitting on the couch, wondering if you should just leave. You’d arrived with Sunmi but of course, she had invited Brian and you hadn’t seen her since. This place was small, so she’d probably left… You’d misplaced Kyuho too, come to think of it. Last time you’d seen him he’d been in the kitchen and that’s when you had snuck into Yoongi’s room, which now made you wince in embarrassment.

You’d been looking for your brother whilst sat down but had only noticed Seokjin. It was like everywhere you looked, there he was, smiling secretly at you while he was talking to friends. You’d rolled your eyes at him, because now you were 100% sure you didn’t want to get caught at the last minute. Yoongi interrupting you had been mortifying enough. You didn’t need anyone else catching on and making a scene.

As if on cue, you heard someone greet you, a small hey sounding from in front of your seated form and you looked up to see Yoongi. He wasn’t actually making eye contact, you didn’t know why, maybe he was embarrassed too? Which was stupid, because you and Jin had been the ones caught.

“Hey,” you replied.

“Can I sit?” He asked, motioning to the empty seat next to you with his drink and you nodded, wondering what he was up to.

Once he sat he didn’t say anything and you began to feel awkward, watching him pull at a strand of fabric from the hole off his jeans. What on earth did he possibly have to say to you? You could count the number of words you’d said to him since he’d been friends with your brother on one hand.

“Sorry for sneaking into your room,” you finally spoke, anything to stop this deafening silence, which was silly because the music was actually pretty loud in the living area. “We didn’t,” you carried on, coughing as you became awkward once again, “do anything, y’know, on the bed…”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, turning to look at you as a light chuckle left him. “I’m still washing the sheets though.”

You joined him before your eyes began to glaze the room again, catching Seokjin’s presence in the corner. He was immersed in a conversation with a guy you’d never seen before, laughing loudly and your heart swelled a little with pride. It was stupid really, but you loved it when he laughed. He sounded so joyous and it made you happy. Just watching him absentmindedly made you feel lucky, it just reminded you that he was yours. Finally and surprisingly. Who would have thought?

“You really serious about this?” Yoongi asked suddenly, pulling you back into the conversation and you looked back at him with a raise of your eyebrow, questioning silently what he meant. “Everything… Seokjin? Telling Kyuho?”

“I’m very sure,” you nodded, voice bold as you answered both of his concerns at the same time. “It’s the only way.”

And it was. Come tomorrow, Kyuho would know and then you’d have to wait and see what happened. You were nervous, but it really was the only way to be with Seokjin properly…

❁❁❁❁

“Jin, I need to speak to you?”

Seokjin turned around to see Kyuho in front of him. His friend was practically scowling and he kept looking over to the right of him, hands in his pockets, balled up in fists upon further inspection.

“Huh, now…?” He asked, turning around to look at his friend apologetically, who he’d been talking to before Kyuho had interrupted, rudely to say the least.

“Yeah, somewhere quiet—your room?” He asked. His voice was tense and Seokjin eyed him again; his jaw was taunt and his eyes dark as they narrowed, burning a hole through the wall behind him as he stared at it.

“Okay,” Seokjin intoned slowly, unsure of what the hell was going on. “Sorry, man,” he apologised to Hoseok. “I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

Seokjin didn’t have a chance to hear his reply because Kyuho was already storming off and he followed in haste, waving the younger guy goodbye and wondering what the hell was going on?!

Kyuho was practically foaming at the mouth as soon as Jin entered his room and closed his door. “I’m so fucking angry, man,” he fumed. “I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin wondered, confused. What was he on about? What had happened?

“My sister.”

Seokjin’s face went white, his soul practically leaving his body. He knew. He had to. Why else would he be so angry over something that concerned you. Fuck. This was it. It had all gone wrong at the last hurdle.

“Look, I can—

“Yoongi and my sister—

“—it’s not what—wait, what,” Seokjin puzzled, stopping himself immediately upon hearing Kyuho’s revelation. “Yoongi…?”

“Yeah, how long do you think it’s been going for? Right under my nose!”

What was going on? How had he come up with that idea? Relief flooded him for a moment, realising you both were okay for now, but then…Kyuho really thought you were seeing Yoongi. Not him...

“I don’t think—

“Did you know, huh?” Kyuho cut him, eyes flashing with fresh anger. “Because if you did, I swear—

“N-No, it’s just I think you’re wrong,” he stammered, racking his brains for a way out. He needed to show Kyuho that he was wrong before something stupid happened…

“Yoongi has Eunji, remember?”

“Well, that just makes him even more of a piece of shit? Cheating? Stringing Y/N along?” He bit out. “What if Eunji’s not even real? I’ve never even seen her since they started dating or whatever—oh my god,” he groaned suddenly, “—he told me about that first time they had sex—that was my sister!”

Seokjin shook his head firmly, “Kyuho, you know Eunji exists, you’ve seen her before. Maybe not since she’s started dating Yoongi, but I have. They are very much dating, trust me,” he told him. It wasn’t like she was some make-believe person. He was just thinking a little crazy right now.

“Well, he’s cheating then and that just makes it worse because he’s going to break my little sister’s heart,” he half-yelled, practically ripping out his hair. “Fuck, I should have seen this coming. Y/N’s been acting strange for a while, going out all the time, coming back late at night. She honestly did it last night and when I asked her where she’d been, she made up some shitty excuse!”

Seokjin shoved a hand in his pocket, desperate to calm his nerves as he tried to act casual. This was not happening. This was something else. How had Kyuho even come to this conclusion?

“I warned her to stay away from men like that and who does she pick! Yoongi!”

Despite his panic, Seokjin had to scoff at that. Yoongi was the best one amongst their group. He had practically been in love with Eunji for two years, pining after her while she’d already had a boyfriend, being secretly happy when they’d broken up and being so over the moon when she’d finally given him a chance. Yoongi was in love with Eunji. He was sure of it, and for Kyuho to think Yoongi was a bad choice just made him sicker with worry. What would he be like when he finally knew the truth? Seokjin had been no saint in the past…

“Shit,” he mumbled, although more to himself, disbelief filling him as he tried not to let his head fall into his hands. He needed to make sense of this all. “What makes you think she’s seeing Yoongi anyway?”

“I saw them leaving his room together,” he rushed and Seokjin’s eyes widened. Fuck. This was his fault. He should have said no to you and left because things had just gotten worse.

“Yeah, right? Not even you can deny that’s incriminating!” Kyuho exclaimed, mistaking his shock for something else. “I was leaving the bathroom and saw him come out, he was talking to a girl so I hid behind the door to see if I could tease him about it later—"

Seokjin refrained from rolling his eyes. So it was okay if Yoongi was cheating on Eunji with a random girl, but now that it was supposedly you, he was disgusted. He wondered if Kyuho would ever change? Because right now, he was the worst out of all of them.

“—and it was my sister! He was telling her something was dangerous—I’m not fucking stupid, Jin! They’ve been hooking up, right in front of my eyes!”

For a moment, Seokjin wondered if he should just confess there and then? It would probably be the best thing. He couldn’t let Yoongi take the blame. But he knew how much you wanted to tell your brother too, and letting you down was something he didn’t want to do. He was torn, and it was only getting worse…

“And now, before I came to talk to you, he’s has the audacity to sit next her, speak to her like there’s nothing wrong—right under my nose, like I’m clueless!”

“I don’t—

“Well, I’m not anymore! I know the truth—“ He interrupted him, not listening to Jin either way. He was so convinced that Seokjin was sure if he confessed right then and there, Kyuho wouldn’t believe him. He’d probably laugh in his face and tell him nice try at tying to save his friend’s ass.

“—he’s been fucking my sister,” he bellowed, and Jin’s eyes widened. He’d never seen his friend like this before. He needed to convince him it wasn’t true. He needed to just tell him the truth—make him believe. However, with Kyuho’s next outburst, he froze.

“My sister? Why her? He could have anyone else around here? He has Eunji, for fucks sake!”

Kyuho was correct. Why you? Why of all people did Seokjin have to fall for you? His best friend’s sister. The one person off limits most in this world. He was an idiot, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted you. He cared about you so much and he wanted Kyuho to understand it wasn’t as crude as he was making it out to be. It was deeper than that. And it wasn’t Yoongi you wanted, it was him. Seokjin.

However, he was also a coward. Because the words wouldn’t come out. He was letting Kyuho believe it was Yoongi. Even if he wasn’t agreeing, he was doing nothing to make him see sense. It was only fuelling him more, and as if on cue he watched as his friend spun on the spot and made for the door.

“No, i’m not standing for this—

“Kyuho, wait—where are you going?!” He cried, rushing after him as his friend practically pulled the door off it’s hinges.

“He thinks he can get away with all this, huh? He thinks he’s some secretive, manipulative asshole who can mess my sister about and lie to my face while he’s doing so?” Kyuho yelled, spinning around to look him in the face and Seokjin fell back a little, shocked by the madness in his eyes.

Kyuho didn’t know it, but this was all for him. The words he was using were for him because Seokjin was the one who had betrayed him. Kyuho was shouting and yelling at him without realising and now he was about to make a terrible mistake, because it was all Seokjin, not Yoongi. It was all on him…

“No, please don’t do anything,” Seokjin begged, muttering a bunch of fucks as his friend proceeded not to listen and stormed down the hall to the rest of the party in the living room.

“Kyuho,” he shouted. “Stop!”

But it was too late. He couldn’t think fast enough. All he could do was chase after him.

❁❁❁❁

It all happened so fast you didn’t know what to do or how to react. One minute you were having a surprising, but serious heart to heart with Yoongi, the next, there your brother was screaming all kind of accusations Yoongi’s way…

The last thing you remembered was Yoongi placing his hand on your knee comfortingly, a warm and genuine smile leaving him as he said, “I hope it all works out for you.” You’d gone to thank him and that’s when you’d heard yelling coming from the direction of the doorway.

“Get your hands off her! What the fuck?”

When you looked up, it was Kyuho, your eyebrows scrunching together in confusion as you saw the anger on his face. Was he drunk? What was his problem? You shot Yoongi the same look, to which he matched back, a bewildered smile on his face as he turned to Kyuho again. You went to speak, to ask your brother what was up, but instead, a shriek left you as you watched him lunge for Yoongi, fire in his eyes.

You went to push him away, everything moving in slow motion and that’s when you saw over Kyuho’s shoulder… Seokjin running over, calling his name, his eyes wide and panicked, and your heart stilled, dread filling you and making you feel heavy. What had happened?!

The noise brought you back to reality. The sound of a skin hitting skin. A fist hitting bone. A punch. And you looked between Yoongi and your brother just in time to see the latter pull away, Yoongi pressed against the back of the sofa as he instinctively reached to cup his jaw, face pale and in shock as his eyes frantically searched Kyuho’s face for an explanation on the attack.

That was about the time you realised the whole room had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the mess unfold, and you stared at a couple of faces, just as frantic and confused as them, wanting an explanation. That was until you heard Kyuho shout at Yoongi again and finally it all made sense… But oh, how wrong he was…

“That’s for thinking you can get away with fucking my sister right under my nose!”

[trashexplorer]

Kin’iro no Corda: Another Sky ft. Shiseikan - Yagisawa Route

Name: Yagisawa Yukihiro

CV: Itou Kentarou

Can I not do this?

I don’t want to do this.

Please.

Yuki has the best common route out of the four captains as he does show how capable he is of being the figurehead despite his low self-esteem and the criticism coming from the assholes from the other side of the fence. I am genuinely acknowledging of his leadership and his relationship with his charge. He’s a good senpai/brother/mother to his members on top of being a good captain. His route was fine

until

his

Gem Route

I need a moment to take in all the cringe before typing again.

Kanade’s taking on the offensive this time around and Yuki’s an “IKENAI OJOU-SAMA!!!” type so I’m out. He even ends up hurting her when she got the wrong idea that he was asking her out on a date - OH MY GOD I DON’T CARE. Yuki acts all awkward with her and pushes her away every time she gets close. Nia and Kanou notices and the two talks it out with their respective friend. Kanou tells Yuki how this wasn’t like him and he was clearly avoiding Kanade and Nia asks Kanade if he was really worth it he’s not but Kanade says that she still likes him.

Kanade makes it clear to him that she likes her romantically but Yuki flat-out rejects her saying that he can’t go out with her ‘cause he’s the buchou. BITCH, HOMARE-SAMA OUGHTTA SHOOT YOU WITH AN ARROW. This ends up hurting Kanade even more ‘cause it drives her to skip out on a few meals. This ultimately takes a toll on her body and she collapses. Ofc, this being an otome game, Yuki’s bound to catch her and she’s like: “OH WOW IT’S LIKE A DREAM.” BITCH THAT’S A NIGHTMARE GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. Anyway, he takes care of her until she’s okay and he finally accepts his feelings for her.

True Route

Being a good buchou isn’t all fun and games and it had quite an effect on Yuki’s physical and mental health. Yuki shares with Kanade his secret training regimen that both takes care of his stamina for the trumpet and his stress levels - rock climbing. After one particularly stressing event Nagamine, he goes off the map - literally, you won’t be able to find him on the map that day. So, being the heroine, Kanade searches frantically for Yuki. She considers asking Nagamine about where Yuki could possibly be and after replying like an ass for the first few lines, he mentions that he goes to some mountain to hike so it’s an a-ha! moment for Kanade and she heads to that mountain.

Upon arriving at the mountain, Kanade overhears some hikers talking about someone like Yuki who might’ve gone off-course and she combs not really through the mountains to find him. Alas, she finds him semi-conscious after a fall.

Yuki realizes that he shouldn’t be shouldering this on his own and he learns that relying on his juniors esp. Kanade wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Like Hozumi’s route, his route takes a more domestic direction and they get to hang like two future couples and wait for the sunrise to signal their blooming affection for each other. Fuck me, I don’t have anything better to say.

Afterthoughts

WHAT. THE. FUCK. KOEI???

Y’all weren’t satisfied with killing Arata off and now you wanna come after Yuki too? Bitch, YUKI WAS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN THE PREQUEL. I was looking forward to his route so so much - he’s actually one of the main reasons why I went all out of my way to get my hands on this game. WHY YOU DO HIM THIS WRONG??? WHERE WAS THE NEED??? They tried saving him with his true route but the gem route did him too much damage that he could never recover. What the fuck was with that ‘ikenai ojou-sama’ shit? Kanade was also so annoying in this was ‘cause it didn’t make sense when she came off so strong in the beginning only to break that easily when he rejected her. Like, DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT GOING ON THE OFFENSIVE IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE BEING SHOT DOWN FIRST. This girl is the first to fucking die in a war, trust me. HAVE A FUCKING BACKBONE FOR CHRISSAKE.

Ugh. Yuki wasn’t just my favorite character in the prequel - Itou Kentarou holds a special place in my heart not only because of Kamijou but also Ryutaro ‘cause he’s one of my faves in the first games! He even looks like my Homare-sama from Starry Sky who has more or less the same position. Koei should’ve taken down notes - that is how you execute the perfect buchou character bitches! You did ME so wrong, Koei! I was growing impatient with this game during Arata’s route but shit hit the fan when this disaster happened.

I thought that ft. Amane had all the bad shit this series had to offer but Yuki proved me wrong.

I give Yuki the WORST gem route in the game but don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate Yuki in the slightest. I just LOATHED how stupid his gem route was. It was beyond cliché - it was an insult to mankind.

[smokydrake]

“Friendly Neighborhood Watch” | Young Sam x Reader | FLUFF

WARNINGS: suggestive, language

WORD COUNT: 6,485

DESCRIPTION: There are four days left of school before Graduation Day. It’s so goddamn obvious you and your childhood best friend Samuel Drake feel the same thing for each other… but you won’t say anything because you don’t want to risk your established friendship, and Sam doesn’t want to say anything because he can’t risk giving himself away. But when two people are a perfect match for each other, some things are bound to be revealed sooner or later.

This is technically Part 2 of “Trick of the Light”, but you don’t have to read that in order to understand this (regardless I’ll still leave the link to it below). I’m really pleased with how this one came out because it just makes my heart so happy like aw Sam :,)) It switches between Reader and Samuel so sorry if it’s kinda unclear as to whose POV you’re reading from haha *sweats intensely*

And I also wanna tag @le-ephemere @hyperionbabe @a-n-g-e-l-frommynightmare and @nataliarmnov because you guys are SO NICE and left such sweet comments on Part 1 ily please enjoy

Trick of the Light

Inspired by this song (Rather Be With You - Sinead Harnett)

The only reason why you were with Rafe Adler in the first place was because you were lonely.

Well, more like the one guy you were ever seriously in to never paid attention to you the way you wanted him to, and conveniently, Rafe Adler transferred to your shithole high school and you thought he’d be a lovely distraction.

Except that, despite getting together with Rafe, you still couldn’t get over your one true crush.

The boy next door, your childhood sweetheart, your best friend: Samuel Drake.

You remember precisely when you started crushing hard on that boy. You were in middle school, still in your semi-awkward tween stage, lost in the masses of equally confused prepubescent boys and girls trying to find their places in the social hierarchy. Sam was one of the popular kids; he and his little brother were both notorious for their mischievous methods of cutting class and their bright, cheeky grins. Always the one with extravagant (although mostly exaggerated) tales of adventures, it was expected for girls and boys to flock around Samuel Drake. His heady Bostonian voice and loopy grin managed to light up any room he walked into; Samuel Drake had this laid-back, passionate, and approachable dynamic.

And on top of that… it was almost painful how good-looking he was.

So when senior year of high school rolled around, it wasn’t a surprise that he’d be quarterback of the varsity football team and “Class Clown” in the annual yearbook. You can’t remember how many girls approached you, asking for your help as wing woman because you were his best friend. It was pathetic. One, because you felt used and grew wary whenever girls were friendly with you, two, because, well, you liked Samuel Drake, and you refused to be lumped into the same absurd group of those fanatical girls.

You knew it was petty. Using Rafe, who was a pretty decent guy (although occasionally quite full of himself) as a twisted form of self-preservation and a defense mechanism against rejection. Hell, it was plain shitty: you kissed him the night of the homecoming game knowing that the star quarterback was watching just to prove a nonexistent point. Sam probably didn’t even care that you were dating Rafe. He was always messing around with other girls, girls who were cheer captains and homecoming queens, gorgeous girls equally as popular as Sam.

It hurt you to feel this way for Sam; it was impossible for him to be romantically interested in you because you guys were best friends. There was nothing you could do. You had a thing for him, and it wasn’t like those little things that went away with time; it was one of those big things, the ones that you couldn’t control.

-

A light knocking on the wooden table interrupts your carefully-curated method of memorizing the historical timeline of the ancient Persian wars for your upcoming final exam.

Looking up from your history textbook, Samuel Drake, wearing his stupid half-smile and his stupid denim jacket that you’ve poked fun of countless times (yet love to see him in), lazily slides into the empty lunch table seat in front of you. You pull an earbud from your left ear.

“Hello? Anyone home?” He waves at you ridiculously, peering behind nonexistent windows and doorways.

“Wrong house,” you answer wryly.

Knowing that he now has your attention, Sam scoots forward in his seat and leans his chin on his knuckles. “Hi neighbor,” he says simply, almost suspiciously.

You raise an eyebrow, holding up a hand to stop him from saying anything more. “Not so fast. I know you’re up to something.”

He laughs a hearty laugh, and you feel his shoes underneath the table bump against your ankles when he leans back. Something skips in your chest. “You are too smart for your own good, y'know that?”

A smile triumphantly crosses your face. “I do know that.”

He narrows his eyes jokingly at you, and then shakes his head. “No one likes a know-it-all. You goin' to Nadine’s grad party tonight?” He then frowns and turns his attention to your open textbook. “Jeez, Y/N. We’re graduating in four days. And you’re still studying?” He flicks through a couple of pages, losing your reading spot.

“Hey!” You swat at his hands and yank the book from his grasp, earning you a poorly hidden grin. “You know, colleges can still decline acceptance if you have shit grades. So yes, I am studying. And thanks a lot, you lost my page.”

He winks at you. “No problem, I do my best.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you’re anything but upset. This is normal; Sam being happy-go-lucky about everything that you rarely ever see him serious, and you being the one constantly trying to keep him out of trouble. It is just another day spent with Samuel Drake and his carefree nature, dealing with his playful antics, and secretly being head-over-heels smitten with him.

“Hey but for real. Please go. I don’t wanna be lonely,” he pouts at you.

You sigh, abandoning your history notes. “I dunno. She’s kinda intimidating.”

At this, Sam scoffs. “C’mon, Nadine’s the nicest person ever. Sort of. But whatever, I heard there’s gonna be a shit-ton of booze,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ew, stop that,” you scrunch your nose, reaching out to hold his squirming eyebrows in place with your thumbs.

“Why? You don’t find it attractive?”

“No!” Your scowl grows into a giggle, and Sam laughs at your laughing. You shove his shoulder once, playfully, and then he pinches your dimples with a thumb and forefinger. “Fine, I’ll think about it,” you finally say.

Sam raps his fingers on the edge of the table. “Sweet. Where’s Rafe?”

“He’s in the library studying.”

“Not here with you?”

You shrug, unconcerned. It didn’t even cross your mind that Rafe isn’t with you until Sam had brought it up.

You two sit at the table quietly, unsure where to continue with conversation. Normally, there aren’t many awkward silences between you two. But, ever since that night, things have been a little… different.

The night you caught Sam watching you touch yourself.

In all honesty, what you did was partially in the spur of the moment and partially somewhat thought out. You had heard the ping of your text notifications, one unread message from a Sam Drake, and you just happened to have noticed him at his window, merely a dark figure shadowed by his almost-closed blinds. Driven by your high, you found his gaze and held onto it, turned on by the fact that he was watching you. Little did he know that it was him in your thoughts, doing all sorts of unsayable things to you.

You both have yet to acknowledge it. So far, you’ve been acting as if nothing happened. Sam is doing the same. You’re not sure what will happen if you say something about it, and part of you doesn’t want to know. But what you do know for sure is that there are new tensions between you and Samuel Drake, and they cannot be contained for long.

Sam opens his mouth to say something, but then the shrill ringing of the lunch bell interrupts his train of thought. He closes his lips with a tight smile and gets up from the table. “Later neighbor,” he calls to you with a flash of a smile before disappearing into the crowd of chattering backpacks and textbooks.

-

“Hey, what are you supposed to wear to grad parties anyway?”

At the sound of her voice, Samuel’s ears perked up. Dramatically, he turned in his swivel chair to see Y/N leaning out the window of her room, her elbows resting on the white windowsill and lips pressed into a perfect pout. Sam’s blinds were up and his window was open too, giving him full view of her room a couple of meters across from his. Her hair was curled and pinned up with rollers, and Samuel thought she looked stupid adorable.

He checked the digital clock on his desk. It was 6:40pm, and the sun was drowning itself in the invasive night sky. He shrugged at the girl next door. “Hell if I know. Check that Pinspiration site, or whatever.” He threw a crumpled math worksheet through his window at her, which she batted away with ease, conditioned by years of practice.

“Ha, nice try. It’s in your yard,” she teased, pointing at the small wad of paper near the bottom side of his fence. Then she made a face at him. “Wait, did you seriously just say Pinspiration? Sam, it’s called Pinterest.”

He grinned quietly, pretending to turn his attention back to the video playing on his desktop. He heard her groan and mutter something under her breath before turning away from the window.

He cherished moments like this: how casual they were with each other. But time was ticking. They were graduating in just a handful of days. Afterwards, summer would fly by in the blink of an eye, and then she’d be gone, off to an Ivy League in the south. He had gotten a football scholarship to a college on the East Coast, and he calculated; he’d be 2,660 miles away from home.

Away from her.

It stabbed at his chest every time he thought about it. He was happy here. Of course, he was also excited for college, but he knew that there would be no place like home. It was only a matter of time before they would have to part ways, and he wasn’t sure how well he was going to handle good-byes.

Something light smacked against his hair, hitting the floor at his feet with a small thunk.

“Take that, Samuel Drake!” Her voice rang again, this time louder and full of glee. She had chucked her own paper ammunition at him, catching him off guard as he swam through his dismal thoughts.

Sam turned to the window again and raised both eyebrows. He reached to swipe the crumpled ball from the ground and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head at her as she did a little dance of victory. She had taken the rollers out, and her hair cascaded down her shoulders and curved against her rosy cheeks. He bit his lip out of habit, wishing that he could keep her forever.

“Now pay attention to me,” she huffed. “How’s this?” She called to him, pushing back her powder blue curtains so that he could get a better look. She was wearing a sleeveless top and a casual pair of jeans, and he admired how she could make something so simple look so effortlessly sexy.

“Great,” he replied coolly, masking the effect she had on him. “You ready to go? I can give you a ride.”

He hoped she would say yes. He drove a motorcycle: a silver Suzuki 500cc that he absolutely loved to death. He had only taken her on it once. He remembered distinctly what it was like to have the icy wind slice at his skin while her warm arms were wrapped tightly around his body. Those were probably the two best feelings in the whole entire world.

But she just shook her head and waved a dismissive hand at him. “It’s okay, my friends are taking me tonight. I’ll just meet you there?”

“Sure,” He said back, getting up from his seat to stretch his arms and to hide his disappointment. “See you in a few.”

-

Nadine’s party is huge. You’re not talking about the house itself; it’s a cookie-cutter two story like yours, but the party… it’s the biggest bash you’ve ever laid your eyes upon.

Her house is brightly lit, thudding energetically with the beat of R&B and crowded with cars parked dangerously along the curb. Teenagers line the front lawn, in the open garage, on the roof; it’s almost chaotic.

“Shit, this place is sick,” your friends squeal, eagerly linking their arms through both of your elbows.

You and your small group work your way inside the house, pushing through the huddled groups of people, some sober, some utterly wasted. Couples hide behind not-so-hidden corners making out, and somewhere at the back of the house, you can hear ecstatic hollering after a round of beer pong. You can’t help but laugh; Nadine’s is something straight out of a 90’s high school chick flick.

You and your friends are finally in the living room, and everywhere you look, there are just people, more people, and even more people. Coincidentally, you make eye contact with Nadine Ross, prom queen two years in a row and salutatorian of your class, lounging on her sofa with her enviously attractive group of friends. She gives you a welcoming grin and you return it to the best of your abilities, secretly giddy at the fact that you’ve been acknowledged by the Nadine Ross.

Your friend at your right elbow tugs at your arm and points across the room. “Ooh, girl, there’s your man,” she coos.

For a second, you think of Sam. Your heart does a little dance, but when you turn your gaze, it’s not who you’re thinking of. Instead, your darkly handsome and lean boyfriend, Rafe Adler, stands in the kitchen, chatting with a couple of his lacrosse teammates, bumping fists and red Solo cups. You blush when your friends tease you, embarrassed by their suggestive remarks.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” your other friend jokes, bumping your hip towards Rafe in the kitchen. Before you can even refuse, they’re gone, off mingling with others in an instant. You sigh, secretly amused by their playfulness as you wiggle your way through dancing bodies and sloshing alcoholic drinks.

You’re about to call out to Rafe when you catch the familiar tuft of messy brown hair and easy eyes from the corner of your eyesight. Samuel Drake leans against the dimly lit wall a little to your right, barely visible behind some vaguely familiar band kids passing around a blunt.

Butterflies float happily in your stomach. Rafe forgotten, you turn towards Sam’s direction with a grin on your face. You make your way through the band kids, peering over tall heads before you spot him.

Him and Crystal.

You stop in your tracks just before the two of them notice you. Sam has his hand on her waist and she is close, very close, to him that her blonde hair is pressed against his jawline.

Crystal was only one of the many pretty girls Sam has been on and off with in the past. She was one of the recurring ones, the ones that you saw Sam kiss goodbye on his motorcycle, saw Sam argue with, saw Sam make up with, saw Sam bring back home in the dead of the night. Crystal was his problematic favorite and your problematic problem.

You feel a sharp plummet in your stomach. You want to unsee them together, but you can’t. So you retreat quietly, disappearing from their line of sight.

As you turn to weave through the band kids again, your mood makes a significant turn for the worse. You feel left out and ignored. Sam invited you here tonight, for what? He looked happy with Crystal. Seeing them together served as a reminder that he saw you, vulnerable and dressed in nothing but moonlight, but still felt nothing for you.

You are almost frustrated to the point of tears. Blinking your eyes furiously, you push your way to the kitchen where Rafe is and wave him down. He takes notice of you quickly, and you are thankful for the distraction.

“Y/N,” Your boyfriend calls, reaching out to wrap an arm around your shoulder. “Hey stranger,” he smiles easily, handing you his cup in hand.

You take a swig at the drink and peck his cheek. You know it’s awful. You’re playing Rafe, keeping him around so that you won’t feel lonely. What you have with him is nothing like what you have with Sam; the chemistry isn’t as natural. But you’re tired of waiting for someone who doesn’t love you the way you love them. You’ve been playing this game of chase for too long… maybe it was time to put it in the past.

-

It shouldn’t have mattered, should’ve it?

Y/N was dating Rafe, and he was dating Crystal.

No, “dating” wasn’t the right term for it– Samuel was talking to Crystal. They weren’t official or anything like that; just a boy and a girl looking for something to keep themselves occupied with in the meantime.

Why was he so annoyed?

He had to admit. He wasn’t expecting Crystal to be at the party, let alone get distracted by her presence and easy conversation. What he really wanted was to get a chance to spend his final high school nights with, Y/N, the girl of his dreams, and then take her home on his motorcycle, where he’d get the chance to tell her how he really felt.

But it was harder than it sounded.

Occasionally, he would look around while Crystal was talking, casually searching the perimeter for Y/N. She was nowhere in sight… oh. There she was.

Y/N was in the kitchen, drinking whatever cheap liquor Nadine had lining the cluttered countertops. Rafe was there too, knocking back shots. Samuel noticed that she was drinking heavily, laughing with her boyfriend inaudibly over the pounding music.

She was never like this.

Samuel knew that Y/N wasn’t the best at holding down her alcohol. Two or three shots, tops. But at the alarming rate she was going at… things were not going to end well.

He was getting worried, anxious. What was she doing? She usually knew her limits… she was always the sensible one between the two of them.

“Hey, Sam.”

Samuel turned to look at Crystal who now stood further away from him. Her small arms were crossed and her languid body faced his, but her blue eyes were elsewhere. He followed her line of sight, and saw that she too was looking at Y/N in the kitchen.

“You have feelings for her, don’t you?”

Her tone wasn’t accusatory, nor was it angry.

Samuel didn’t know what to say. He had never said it out loud before.

“It’s really not that hard, you know. To tell her.”

Samuel laughed dryly at this. He didn’t mean for it to sound so scornful, but it did. “What? I don’t know what--”

She shook her head at him apathetically. “Stop. Just stop it.”

He looked at her. Really looked at her. Crystal was a girl that he had spent a lot of time with only because the girl he really wanted wasn’t for him to call his. Now, looking at her, he realized that she not only was she attractive; she was observant, keen, and probably better off without him.

She only stared back, and the two of them stood there, looking at each other with mutual dispassion.

“You need to stop lying to yourself, Sam. It doesn’t help anybody.”

She was first to walk away, and Samuel knew that she wouldn’t be coming back. And he was thankful for that in a bittersweet way.

-

“SHIT, THE COPS!”

“EVERYONE, GET OUT!”

You’re not exactly sure what that means.

Oh, wait– something bad. You should maybe leave, like now.

Rafe is gone. You don’t know where he went; it’s like he disappeared into thin air. Your friends are also nowhere in sight, and all you can see are people scrambling, jumping, and running everywhere.

It’s hard for you to focus; everything around you is disoriented and your vision spins every once in a while. You try to get up, but your knees give out and you end up stumbling against the kitchen counter. You giggle, tipsy from those shots you and Rafe did together just a second ago.

A tall, familiar body approaches you. “Y/N! We gotta go!”

Oh.

Him.

Sam Drake. That stupid boy next door that gave your heart way too much grief. You want to be done with him and his pretty face and mild smolder. He’s looking at you now with frantic, annoying puppy eyes. Why did he come back for you? Where is Rafe?

“I don’t wanna,” you try to say, but your voice comes out in a tiny whisper.

“Nope, not an option,” he says as he wraps an arm around your abdomen and hoists you up. He mutters something under his breath that you can’t catch as he leads you out of the house. The two of you are outside on the front lawn when you hear the sirens and see the illuminated red and blue flashing.

“Damn it,” Sam curses under his breath, his eyes frantically searching around. “C’mon, this way.”

Lacking any serious concern, you hobble after Sam with your hand in his towards the back end of the street, where his red and silver motorcycle parks under a low shade of tree branches. You notice its ruggedness and classic build, and you take note of the familiar characteristics of its proud owner.

Sam swiftly hops onto his motorcycle. He snaps back the kickstand with his heel and flicks on the headlight. He gives you a sideways glance and jabs his thumb at the small space behind him. “Get on and hold tight, you hear me?”

You nod sleepily. Slowly climbing on behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek to his back, happy to be so close to him. He smells like a fresh shower and cloudy engine smoke.

Muffled shadows of running people scatter all around in flashing red and blue. The motorcycle jerks forward with a sputter, and then the two of you shoot off, the sound of whining sirens gradually dissipating into the dark. You gasp, taken aback by the hurtling momentum. Your surroundings race by at hyper-speed, but your eyes can only process things one at a time. Everything around you is a blur of color; the green traffic lights, the glowing red shop signs, the flickering yellow of the streetlamps. Your eyes start to roll to the back of your head.

“Everything okay back there?” Sam shouts to the air, turning his head slightly to look at you. You blink your eyes, trying to keep them open. He’s the one thing you can see clearly; his hair is tousled by the wind, his freckles are pinkish-red from the cool air, and his hazel eyes are fiery and alive. A neon fusion of color frames his face, reminiscent of a static VHS glitch.

You try to tighten your grip on him, but your head dizzies. Your muscles don’t comply and your arms start to slip from his waist.

“Hey, hey!” One of Sam’s hands catches your wrists, holding them in place. “You keep your arms around me, a’right?”

“Mkay,” you hiccup and your forehead knocks against his shoulder blade.

“Jesus, Y/N. You’re giving me a heart attack.”

“Sam, I wanna go home.”

You vaguely feel a gentle squeeze of his hands on yours, a silent physical “okay”. Sam kicks up the speed, and then the two of you dart off again, weaving between dark cars on the streets, leaving behind a trail of rubber and smoke and sleepy laughter.

-

He felt alive.

His motorcycle reverberated violently underneath him, hungry for speed. Faster. He needed to go faster.

Samuel shifted the motorcycle up a gear, giving him less resistance and more traction. He accelerated noisily around the corner and through empty lanes, his heart pounding furiously at every drunk giggle that erupted from Y/N’s lips.

God, he felt so good.

The air lashed at his face, whipping his hair furiously against his forehead and neck. He couldn’t help it; a smile crept up his face, soon followed by a loud whoop of exhilaration. Y/N laughed even harder at this, and Samuel did it again, basking in the thrill of the night and her voice.  

The arms around his stomach tightened.

“Wait, waitwaitSamwait–“

Samuel instantly gripped the brakes, screeching his motorcycle. “What? What??”

“I’mgonnathrowup–“

“Son of a–!” He tried his best to pull over quickly, and Y/N hopped from of the backseat before he could come to a full stop. She hurried to the nearest bush at the edge of the streetlight and immediately started to heave, coughing up her night’s inventory of alcohol.

Samuel followed, catching her hair just in the nick of time. He pulled it away from her face, rubbing a palm against her hunched back patiently.

When she was finally done, he helped her up by the crook of her elbow and kept a hand at the dip of her waist to steady her. “You good?”

She nodded, blinking her dark eyes. “Oh man. Do I regret,” she groaned.

Samuel exhaled heavily, a fuddled wave of aggravation and worry washing over him. Without thinking, he said disdainfully, “do you now?”

She gave him a look; he couldn’t tell if it was confusion or annoyance.

“Uh, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam was taken aback by the tone of her voice; was she angry? He raked a hand through his hair. “You know you can’t hold your drinks, but you go and knock back like, fifty shots.”

Wrong move. Her eyebrows pulled even closer, and she pushed out of his arms. “It’s a party, Sam. I can do whatever I want.”

He knew that arguing back was just going to make her even more irritated, but he knew she was wrong– or he thought he knew she was wrong– and that was starting to make him mad too. “You’re never like this. Did Rafe make you do them or somethin’?”

“No! Rafe’s not like that. He’s my boyfriend.”

“A pretty shit one.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothin’. Forget it.”

She shifted from one leg to the other impatiently. “No, Sam. I hate it when you do that. Just say it.” she pressed angrily.

There was a thin line between the two of them, and he was very close to crossing it. He contemplated whether or not he wanted to. “You’re being blindsided, Y/N.” He warned.

She scoffed, dismissing him. “There you go again.”

Suddenly, he said, “Then tell me why he just left you in the kitchen when the cops came, huh?”

He had struck a nerve. Y/N gave a short huff of realization and her shoulders tensed harshly. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t know that.”

He waved a hand frantically in the air and let out a humorless laugh. “Seriously? Y/N, I saw him! That prick cares about nobody but himself.”

Something simmered behind her eyes, and instantly, Samuel regretted his words.

Shit, shit--

She raised a shaky finger at him. “Don’t.”

She was hurt now and he couldn’t put his emotions into words in fear of giving himself away. It was as if every time he tried, it only escalated into something offensive. It frustrated and angered him even further.

He closed his eyes and sighed, thinking of how to diffuse his mess. “I’m just… worried about you.”

She went quiet for a bit, and it troubled him.

“Well, I’m fine. I’m just trying to have fun, okay?”

He looked away from her, over her shoulder. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but he had actually pulled over near his workplace: the small boat dock at the edge of town. They stood at the larger part of the harbor where the metal railing separated the city from the sea.

Crystal’s words hissed in his ear. You need to stop lying to yourself, Sam.

Y/N said nothing further, walking a little ways from him along the wooden floorboards of the dock. On she went, a pretty figure framed in starlight against the dark ocean.

It doesn’t help anybody.

His feelings were getting out of hand and he was running out of time… but he was afraid. He didn’t want to lose what he had with her already; what more did he want? Y/N was there whenever he needed her, to catch him when he was on the brink of danger, to smile and to laugh at his less-than-funny jokes. This should be enough, he told himself. Stop being greedy.

But Samuel Drake… he couldn’t help that he wanted more than what he had. That was just in his nature; “satisfaction” was a loose term in his range of vocabulary.

He had to let her know. Somehow.

He sucked in his breath. “Did you do it on purpose?”

She stopped walking and turned around, standing about a meter or two away with her head tilted slightly. “Do what on purpose?”

Uh, definitely not how he wanted to start. Oh well. It was too late now.

He swallowed his pride and went for it. “That night, at the window. You know what I’m talking about.”

She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t say anything. What was there to say?

He didn’t press her. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to tell her; he was terrible with words. They just never came out the way he felt in his heart. He didn’t know where he was going with this… maybe he just wanted hear her say that she knew and that it wouldn’t work out and then they could move on with their lives. Just like that. Simple.

He was about to tell her to forget it, to pretend like it never happened, but then he saw her nod once, curtly, hiding secretly behind her wind-tossed mane.

He was awestruck.

She rocked on the heels of her feet. “It kinda just… happened. I saw you, and I just…” she trailed off, biting a nail as she avoided his stare. The distance between them felt foreign, vast.

Samuel cleared his throat. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I mean, I know it was wrong.” She gave him a puzzled look, and then he caught himself. “Wait, no– like, what I did was wrong. Not you,” he stuttered, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. He felt his face burning.

She giggled at this, brushing back the wisps of hair from her forehead.

Samuel grimaced, but her smile was contagious. “Y’know, I can just pretend like I didn’t see anything.”

She looked at him, and again, he couldn’t read her expression. She looked perplexed, unsure… contemplative?

She took a step forward.

“You don’t… you don’t have to.”

-

Damn him, that Samuel Drake. He knew how to press your buttons and piss you off, even if he didn’t mean to. But this… this caught you off-guard. He was being brash, impulsive-- curious. He had asked you about that night two weeks ago, openly, giving you no space to dodge and flee.

What would happen if you told the truth?

“You don’t… you don’t have to.” You murmur, releasing your words cautiously into the air.

Did he hear you? Did you say it loud enough, or did it get lost in the faint crashing of waves underneath you two?

No– he definitely heard you. You watch his eyes widen and his head jerk back in surprise. Was he appalled? Uncomfortable?

Oh well. Too late now.

You suck in your breath. “I mean, if you don’t want to. Do you… do you want to forget?”

Ugh okay. That came out really weird. You’re about to tell him to forget it, nevermind, you meant to say something else–

His voice is barely a whisper. “Are you kidding?”

You frown. “No.”

You watch Samuel Drake, the confident and boisterous and handsome Samuel Drake, as he presses his hand against his forehead and ducks his gaze away from yours.

“I haven’t been able to get you outta my head for the past two weeks.”

…what?

Oh no, he was repulsed. You stammer, “I-I… jeez, I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it made you feel that uncomfortable–”

“What? No, no– that’s not what I meant,” he drops his hand and takes a step towards you.

Then what…

“Listen. Y/N.”

You watch as he grabs a fistful of his dark hair– you know what that means. He’s at a loss for words; he wants to say something badly, but he just doesn’t know how.

So you wait, focusing on the rhythmic thumping in your chest. You don’t push him; you know Sam Drake and his habits and his tendencies. You know that he’s not the serious one in your guys’ dynamic. This is different for him– this is difficult for him– and so you let him work it out at his own pace.

You notice the precise moment when he does. His eyes flick up, realigning with yours, and then his throat dips as he swallows hard.

“I… I might have a thing for you. Kinda.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You pause briefly to consider your words.

“That’s funny. Because me too.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

A little sound of disbelief escapes your lips. He catches it, and returns it to you as a louder chuckle. You both are dumbstruck, jittery, and at a loss as to what to do or say. This is actually happening.

“Wait, wait-- what about Rafe?” He suddenly asks, pointing a finger at you.

You cross your arms. “That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Crystal?”

He drops his hand. “Okay.”

And then he’s laughing. And you start laughing at his laughing, because his laugh is just that infectious. He reaches out to you with outstretched hands and you walk over dizzily, fitting snug right between his arms. He’s warm and you can hear his heart beating powerfully underneath his gray Henley. His chin rests on the top of your head, and you know, deep inside of your heart, that this is where you belong.

-

Samuel told her.

It wasn’t super dramatic or sweet and a part of him regretted telling her so plainly, but he did it.

And the best part was, she felt the same way.

He couldn’t believe it. It took him years to finally tell her, and now he regretted not doing it sooner. He wanted to explode; he had never felt so raw and alive. It was as if a burden heavy as lead lifted from his shoulders and was replaced by a flitting, floating, airy happiness that sent him up and up and up.

“Since when though?” He asked the top of her head.

She tilted her chin up, resting it against his collarbone to look at him. A cheeky grin danced on her lips. “Uhh, yesterday.”

“Very funny.”

“You’re asking a lot of questions.”

“Please tell me?” He gave her that look, the one where he gazed at her broodingly through his eyelashes and up-turned eyebrows. He used it often to combat her witty and much too smart quips.

It worked on her like a charm and she said, “Eighth grade.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he warned her.

She glowered. “I’m being serious!” She poked a finger at his side, and he jerked into her, causing her to give him a winning smirk. “And you?”

“Don’t remember,” he mumbled, distracted by how soft her hair was against his neck.

“Are you sure? Like, really sure?” She mumbled back.

He snapped a finger, feigning recollection. “Sophomore year. When you almost fell outta your window climbing into mine. You were tryin’ to hide from your mom when she found your report card you threw behind that old bookshelf.”

“Wow, okay. Can you be a little more specific?”

He grinned at this. “You knocked over my entire Indiana Jones figure collection climbin’ in and that’s how I knew you were the one.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I know.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before burying her face in his chest. She sighed a long, blissful sigh, and Samuel knew exactly what she felt in that very moment.

“You know, I’m gonna miss you in college.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re supposed to say ‘me too’, Sam.”

“Me too, Sam.”

She poked another finger at his side, and he scowled, squeezing her cheeks between his free thumb and forefinger like he did whenever she was playing around too much. “Hey watch it, neighbor, that hurts.”

“Sorry, neighbor.”

Then, gradually, she got on her tip-toes and looked right at him, their noses touching, and suddenly, he was all too aware of her. Something in her eyes changed; they were all at once curious and unfocused. He soon realized that she wasn’t looking at him anymore– she was looking at his bottom lip. He watched as she bit her own.

They stayed like that for some time, until it became unbearable. Neither of them wanted to make the first move… it was exhilarating just as it was scary.

“Do something Samuel Drake,” she whispered to him.

Her words were like an activation code; a euphoric green “GO” sign lit up his brain upstairs. So then, slowly, he brought his lips to hers, his fingertips tenderly resting just against her jaw. It lasted only for a fleeting second. Her eyelashes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly, and Samuel wished that he could capture the moment and keep it safe in a glass bottle for him to relive again and again.

No other person made him this gushy and weak in the knees. She was a magician of sorts and he was her favorite trick. He would do anything for the girl standing here in front of him, and now, he could do it confidently.

“Can you do that again?” She smiled against his lips.

“Yeah, I’ll do that again.”

And Samuel kissed her once more under the moon’s watch and the ocean’s breath, and nothing else in the world mattered more. They both knew that in that moment, there was no other person they would’ve rather been with, and this was more precious than they could’ve ever imagined. He no longer felt afraid knowing that she was there for him to call his own, and she no longer felt overshadowed by the boy who had always thought she was unattainable.

It was a match made by the stars, and they watched protectively overhead, safeguarding the two under the youthful evening blanket.