#foggy voice why do you have picture books for kids??

[milimeters-morales]

(acau) if rio was awake rn she’d be furious about miles calling peter “mom” or anything like that but since she’s not, it’s matt who’s furious about it before he even understand what’s going on. matt lets miles use his place as a hiding spot, will point him to shelters if he needs them, and literally asks foggy and karen for childcare tips. he’s serious as fuck about being an adult Miles can confidently look to, and doesn’t stop even when Miles quits being Spider-Man for a while + Aaron takes better care of him because i mean the more the merrier. and once Miles tells Matt what goes on, he relates super hard and that urge to protect and nurture and see Miles grow into a healthy person just gets stronger.

[lindszeppelin]

The age gap is definitely a problem for Austin now. They are truly are in 2 completely different points in life. Hence why he said they have nothing in common. Kaia has played her cards and shown she really isn't what he thought she was.

Austin is very much career driven. He takes his work seriously and wants to excel in everything he does. He wants to earn the respect of his peers. He busted his butt for 20 years and has worked hard for his roles. He doesn't expect handouts. As far as relationships, I don't think he necessarily is looking for marriage quite yet. But he is a relationship guy. He is looking for someone who is on his level. Someone he can have intellectual conversations with. Who has a strong work ethic, etc.

Kaia is 22 and acts like she's 22, which is fine. The problem is she tries to act older than her years. She changes herself for her boyfriend of the time. She can try to act like she's mature all she wants, but at the end of the day she's a spoiled rich kid. Nothing will change that. She relies on her parents status to get ahead in life. It's pretty obvious she has no work ethic or drive to be better. She expects to be handed roles because of her parents, their connections (laura dern), her attachment to Austin, and b/c she's pretty (which is subjective). She has the personality of a wet mop. Shows no emotion (dead eyes, monotone voice)...you get the picture.

I agree that at first Austin thought this could be a good idea. But it's been clear for a few years now, that Kaia is not at all what he thought. He wants out. He's seen they have nothing in common other than maybe a love for reading, which is not a reason to continue dating. The writing has been on the wall since 2023. Now, we wait for Austin to make his move...

It really sucks because she clearly played him into her hand when he was vulnerable. She was on a mission to get with Austin as soon as she dumped Elordi, and she had to have researched Austin's interests to hook him in. I'm sure Austin was taken aback by someone Kaia's age being into niche books or movies that he also liked, etc. Perhaps he also believed the clear lie that she likes to taut around as being older for her age. His windshield was foggy, let's just say it like that. Which is perfectly understandable for the mindset he was in. He wasn't seeing things clearly, and she was doing a great job at putting on a deceptive mask and hooking him in. Being pretty and liking books might have been interesting in the beginning as he was trying to figure out who he was and navigate his career and being in his 30s, but once the rose colored glasses come off and you're seeing things for what they are, that leaves a pit in your stomach of "oh shit what have I gotten myself into?".

I'm sure he tried to make the best of a shitty situation while he had to, and tried to get her to be serious about her career for once in her life, and implement a bit of humility in her. He wants to see the good in people I think. And he hoped she would get off his back and actually put pen to paper, so to speak, and do something meaningful with her acting career if that's what she wants. But the more it went on, clearly he saw she wasn't going to stop taking the easiest path to victory.

Also I agree that Austin is a man that likes being in relationships. He doesn't have to be ready for marriage, and even if he was it was never going to be with her anyway. He understands that it has to be the right person and the right set of circumstances. Kaia Gerber does not have the right values or morals to bring to a real marriage with a real man that comes from a family of divorced parents, and therefore thinks even more critically about what a lasting committed marriage means. He knows that when he eventually wants to settle down that it's gonna be with a woman that is on his same wavelength. He's been in this fucked up situationship for so long that he needs to have fun with the next woman he's with. Enjoy life again, be carefree and happy with someone on his level. And i'm excited for that day to come where we get to see him take a load off his shoulders and walk with pride alongside that special lady

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ out of my league﹫mark lee

out of my league - fitz and the tantrums

pairing : mark x reader (f)

genre : tiny angst, fluff, smut with some plot, bestfriend!mark, college!au, best friends to lovers.

warnings : weed, making out, fingering, unprotected sex, praising.

word count : +4k

synopsis : your best friend Mark Lee tells you all the things he believed, you were always out of his league.

Mark Lee has been in love with the same person for as long as he could remember. It's something he took some time to understand, days to wrap his head around. 

Where do you draw the line between deep friendship, platonic love between friends and a connection running deeper, a love that seeks more than the label "friends" ?

Laying on your bed, his right hand throws a tennis ball in the air, easily catching it while his left hand hold the rolled up paper between two fingers.

It's a shame, the smoke he's blowing out of his lungs is probably sticking to your bed sheets, ones he noticed you washed the moment he dropped his body on your bed.

Soft rose fragrance, traces of an exotic fruit he can not pin point, though Mark is sure he could recognise the perfume of your detergent between thousands of others.

Heavy sigh, smoke escaping his lips like a dragon dissolving in the air, heavy eyelids closing in front of his brown irises. He really should stop smoking, Mark thinks. It's a black hole in his wallet, it is not that good for his health and fuck, does it makes his mind wonder.

Correction, Mark should stop smoking around you. Because, whenever he does, his mind might search in the deepest, darkest folds of his brain for a new topic, he'll always, forever, come back to you.

Mark Lee has been in love with you for as long as he can remember.

It's something he's been aware of for some years now. It's crazy how he can pinpoint the moment his mind clicked, the moment he put two and two together. He can still visualise the moment his heart went from a friendship he'd die for to a love he'd die for, one so strong he, himself, was dumbfounded by his years long blindness. 

It happened right before prom, second to last year of high school. Mark Lee remembers when you stepped out of your father's car (he doesn't trust any other boy but Mark, he insisted on driving you to your school's dance).

Pretty deep blue dress, it's his favourite colour on his favourite person. You did not do anything special to your hair, only added a bit more makeup. Though, it's not your appearance that made everything click, you've always been pretty, it wasn't the first time your friend noticed.

Rather, it's when your date shows up. It's when one of the school's popular kid shows up and makes you dance that he understands. He wants it to be him so bad. He wants to make you twirl, he wants to make you laugh.

Mark understands it isn't just him being mad that you're not answering your phone, it's love. Jealousy, green monster eating away at his heart when he wonders if you're still with him, it's a hand tightly wrapping around the muscle when he wonders if you're going to fall into someone else's arms.

Mark remembers it, it was five years ago. Late summer night where he stayed on his phone for too long, love sick kid scrolling through pictures and pictures of his prom waiting for a text from his best friend.

He didn't say anything, maybe Mark was a bit of a coward, and you were out of his league.

“Mark ?”

From all the things you best friend loves about you, if he had to pick, it'd be the way you say his name. No matter the intonation, no matter the context, the men loves the way it sounds coming out of your lips.

He thinks he won't ever get enough of it, it's intoxicating, makes him think he has the prettiest name after your own. 

Eyelids slowly open, tired smile stretching his lips. You're steading in front of your bed, freshly showered, hand turning your small projector on. 

“Hm ?”, he doesn't bother answering with words, humming softly. His head turns to the side, following your movements around the bedroom he knows like the back of his hand.

“This one or...That one ?”, you ask, playing with your remote to show your best friend two animation movies you both saw too many times.

“First one.” You've noticed over time, his voice always gets deeper when he smokes, brown eyes always get a shade darker. 

“Alright, baby chose.”

Ah, correction. If there's one thing that Mark loves, it's the pet names you give him. So natural, honey filled, he wished you meant them. 

Baby, babe, darling. He loves it all, he wants it all, he wants you all. 

Unaware of his thoughts, you finally crawl up next to him, the shirt you're wearing as your pyjamas riding up, Mark takes another hit at that. 

Familiar sound of Netflix resonates in your room as you take yet another remote and turn your lights off, before gesturing towards your friend. You're not an avide smoker but, you infale the smoke a few times before giving the rolled up paper back to the brunette. 

Mark knows what's about to happen, whenever your movie night has a bit of green, the movie gets long lost behind while you two would rather speak about anything and everything. After years of friendship, you'd think you two would've took and turned every subject under the pale moon but, Mark definitely did not expect this. 

Hands free, he crushes the cigarette on the special painted bowl you have for him, Mark also loves the way you have some things for him on your house as if he lives with you. 

Your right hand is quick to find his left hand, an old habit your have. Your fingers stretch against his own, comparing sizes like kids flirting, swinging your hands from left to right. Your arm easily gets tired by holding your hand up in the air like this, but the warmth of Mark's hand and the way his fingertips rough by his guitar strings brush against your palm every now and then feels like home. 

“How do you know when you're in love ?”, your voice's soft, mindlessly humming to the song in the animation movie Mark chose. Is that the topic you decided to bring up...? Mark's hand stays still for a moment, following your own hand's movement as he thinks for a while. 

“Don't give me that “You just know” bullshit.”, you mumble when he stays quiet for a bit too long. 

“But I think you do, just know. I think it's different for everyone.”, he starts, speech slightly altered by the green herb intoxicating his mind. 

“How is it... For you ?”, you ask. See, you know Mark had some crushes here and there, but you don't think he has ever been in love or, at least, he never told you. 

“It's... Loving the way they say your name, wanting to be with them as much as possible. It's... Craving to be as close as possible.” and unconsciously, his fingers wrap around yours. 

“It's finding happiness in their joy, sharing their sadness. It's small things like memorising the perfume they wear and what food they dislike.”

The brunette stays quiet for a moment, heavy eyes look upon your locked hands in the darkness, chest light, mind foggy. 

“It's them feeling like home.”, he finally says. 

Mark smiles to himself, you do feel like home, you make everything feel like home. From the way you have a pillow and the way you keep a toothbrush for him, to the way you always feel so warm and safe. 

Thankfully for you, the lack of light hides the small blush creeping on your cheeks. 

Mark doesn't know, you've been in love with him for years, though you've been aware for a bit longer. His confession takes your breathe away with a heavy sigh, you squeeze his hand. 

“I was in love with you.”

Was, you take the safe route as the words fly out of your mouth before you can even understand. Even if he's shocked, you can play the past card. 

“I was in love with you too.”, silence doesn't last long as Mark let's out as well, eyes on the movie even though he isn't paying any attention : his favourite line just played and he didn't even let a giggle out. 

The words make your ears ring, skin burn red, heart beat against your ribcage. He was too...? He was. He isn't anymore. 

“Why didn't you tell me ?”, you breath out, turning to the side. You use an elbow to support your body, you dare look at your best friend's face. 

It's crazy how he still have the still has the same baby face you've always known, the same pretty eyes and the same smile, his jaw got sharper with years and voice deeper and yet, he's still the same. He's home. 

Mark, him, doesn't dare look at you for a second. Before he does, soft eyes looking directly into yours. Why didn't he tell you ? He knows why, he has a list of reasons why and another list of reasons why he should've told you he'd rather not think about right in this moment. 

“You're out of my league.”, he breathes out. You can read your best friend like a book, you know he is not joking when he tells you so. And yet, you can't wrap your head around the idea. 

“I— What, no !”, you're almost whispering and screaming at him at the same time, getting up to sit on your knees. He was out of your league, he has always been, you never—.

“You were—. You are out of mine.”, you tell him, almost dumbfounded. For a split second, it feels like someone's finally giving you the dream you've always wanted and, the moment it touches your hands, it slips through your fingers. 

Can you be nostalgic of something you've never even experienced ? And yet, your mind grabs onto a single thing. Present tense, you're still out of his league, he still thinks so. 

In his semi-high state, the brunette chuckles out, as dumbfounded. 

You wonder if there are feelings still unknown to humans because this, the pull you're feeling at the strings of your heart and the lump in your throat combined to the angering heat taking over your body aren't emotions you're used to feeling at the same time. 

“Hey, what's wrong ?”, your best friend asks, an arm wrapping around your neck to pull you closer. You're sure it's supposed to be for hug, one you'd happily accept if you weren't in this very situation. Both forearms stop your body from colliding against his, Mark frowns. 

In another situation, he'd be able to read you like an open book and, maybe he's thankful he isn't completely sober right now. If he wasn't slightly high, he'd be as red. 

“Are you...Are you still in love with me ?”, you ask. It's almost a whisper, one Mark is sure he would've caught if it wasn't for the almost silent scene going on in the long forgotten movie. 

Is he still in love with you ? Yes. His mind screams a loud, obnoxious yes. His body screams another loud and obnoxious yes and yet. Yet, Mark stays silent for what feels like minutes. He knows he is, he's sure of it, he doesn't know if he should say it. 

Yes, yes, yes. 

“Yeah.”

To be in love with your best friend, to confess your love after years, decades, even. 

Such a simple word and yet, it hangs in the air, you can almost make it out in the slight darkness of the room. When Mark has the ability to put words on how he feels, you can't put anything on what goes on in your brain and body when he says the simple truth. You think your heart might fall out right into your best friend's hand, if he did not already have it. Your mind twist the word again and again just to find a fault, a break, a rupture. 

There isn't none, he's in love with you. 

There's another few seconds where you stay silent. You decide actions speak louder than words. Where Mark pulled you into a hug, you pull him into a kiss you've been craving for years. 

Carnal need sleeping deep in both your minds, it doesn't need much to be awakened, burning a fire louder than hell's. Your lips touch his. Its shy, hesitant but, when Mark's arm tighten around your neck, no words need to be spoken. 

The sweet, innocent, childlike kiss turns desperate in matter of seconds. Your best friend pulls you closer, closer, closer. He catches your leg between his, pushes your chest against his to the point where you can feel his heart hammering.

Lips move in harmony, common rhythm is quickly found and, you whine the moment he pulls away.

“Tell me.”, he breathes out against your lips, it's a desperate plea for something he had been waiting to hear, something he thought he'd never hear. “Say it.”, it's demanding, greedy. You give in easily.

“I'm in love with you.”

There's a weight pulled out of your chest, you'd chant it again and again if you could. You'd scream in if you could, you'd breathe it against his skin.

The brunette pulls you into a bruising kiss, he pours his soul out, hand cupping the back of your neck.

If this is a dream, Mark is determined to not let it go. Using his body at his advantage, positions are reversed, the brunette quickly towards over you. You switched you could turn the light back on but, the colourful lights of the movie dance against his jawline and shine against his wet lips, you decide your best friend looks like a painter's muse.

“There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about you.”, he breathes pretty words against your skin, taking his lips from your mouth to your jaw. It's loving, deep kisses, each to mean something.

“There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about being more to you, wished we were more.”

More, more, more. You want more too, you need more too. You refuse to let go now.

“We can be, we can.”, it's frantic. You cup his face with your hands, bringing him closer. “Spent nights thinking about what we could be.”

It makes flowers bloom in his chest, he isn't able to take his lips away from your skin. The tip of his nose digs in your cheek, he inhales deeply. Oh, how he loves the soap you use.

“What did you see ?”, he asks, lips peppering kisses down your neck, hand gripping your shirt. You're quick to pull it up above your hips. First wanting to completely pull it off your body, it seems the brunette isn't patient enough.

His lips leave your neck to your tummy, butterfly kisses here and there until he stops to your panties.

“Us. Together. Living tog—.”

Your sentence's quickly cut off by your best friend, maybe a lot more now, pressing his tongue flat against the fabric of your panties.

If you weren't aware of how wet you were getting, you sure were now.

“Living together, yeah ?”, he asks, bringing his face closer to yours again right after disregarding his shirt somewhere. There's a few seconds where you pose, shamelessly taking in the men's figure. 

Forehead against yours, his digits run along the line of your underwear. He's as nervous as you are, as shaken up as you are yet, you two have never been more certain of one thing that doesn't need to be said anymore.

Mark bites down on his lip, you almost hear tje mechanism in his head twisting and turning to find the right way to ask you.

You beat him at it anyways, nodding as your arms wrap around his neck.

There's one thing you'll never tell him, you spent night dreaming about a future and other were filled with thoughts of his fingers.

The guitar player had pretty hands, even prettier when they wrapped around the neck of his guitar or when he picked as some strings.

“'was too scared to tell you.”, he says and, you'd tell him you know. You know exactly how it feels, the fear of rejection by the one you've know you're entire life. You'd tell him it doesn't matter now that you now if you could. 

His fingers stop you from articulating right, index and middle finger greedily collecting the wetness between your folds, the brunette doesn't wait much longer before pushing two digits in. 

“I—Mark.”, there it is, a moan of his name that intoxicates Mark more than any other drug. Pupils grow wide, ears greedy to hear more. It's him, him managing to make you moan so softly in the dead of the night, him that has you wrapped around his finger. 

“Fuck, say my name again.”, it's another desperate plea, say his name again so he knows it isn't a vivid dream he's going to wake up from, say his name until it's the only thing rolling out of your tongue. 

You easily oblige when he starts moving his fingers, slowly yet, in a way that quickly had you gasping for air.

There's nothing rough in his actions, expect from the way his teeth gaze at the skin of your neck before softly biting down just to sooth to spot with his tongue afterwards. 

It's agonising, like he wants to make sure he maps out your body to remember it perfectly after tonight. His fingers curl and drag against your walls, he remembers how and where. 

His free hand creeps under your raised shirt, quickly finding your chest as his mouth finds your again. 

There, he catches every sweet sound you make like he doesn't want any body else to hear them, tongue tastes yours as they lazily battle. 

“Shit, baby. Just like that, god.”, when you think Mark couldn't get any better, his fingertips brush against a spot that has your hips raising up, slowly rocking against his hand. 

“Right there ?”, you nod frantically as he does it again and again, lazily fingering you whilst he lets your hips grind against his digits. 

“So fucking pretty.”, it's a murmur once he detaches his lips from your own, wet and red by the exchange. 

It's not the first time Mark calls you pretty but at this very moment, it's different. 

His wrist twist the right way just as he's about to pick the pace up and the familiar feeling grows alongside the flower blooming in your chest as Mark whisperes sweet nothings into your ear. 

He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, it has his cock throbbing in his sweats. Carnal desire to feel you wrapped around him as his fingers speed up until you come undone around them. 

It's a mess of his name and profanities you hope your neighbours aren't hearing. 

“Want more, want you.”, you babble once you come down from your high, sweat collecting around your hairline, chest irregularly raising up and down. 

When Mark seems to take too long to process your words, you take matters into your own hand. 

A moment, Mark struggles to find his words and the other, his back hits the bed with a soft gasp. 

He's quick to raise with his elbows, almost having whiplash when you sit down on his lap after taking off your ruined and soaked panties. 

“Let me help you with that.”, there's a slight shyness in your voice Mark decides he'd die for when your clumsily work on the strings of his grey sweats. 

Unspoken words, soft silence when you look into his eyes and help him push the fabric down his thighs. The air is thick, your heart beats harder and harder, your chest swells when Mark pulls you closer by your hips. 

“I've been in love with you.”, he starts as you raise, lining your core with his hard member, one your eyes lingered on before he opened his mouth. There's a pause, your lips part as to say something when you slowly sit down, but no sound comes from your mouth when Mark's leaking head pushes inside. 

“For so— so fucking long.”, he uses the last bits of air in his lungs to let it out, voice cracking when you sit inch by inch. 

You wonder how you went so long without telling him, telling him you love him feels too good to take it back or ever again. There's a slight part of you wondering where you'd be right now if you told him sooner but you're quick to push it away. 

Both hands cup his face as you bring him closer for a kiss as you fully settle on his lap, though the exchange doesn't last long. There's a beautiful groan coming from the men in front of you just as you moan out from the sensitivity, the fulness. 

Mark's red lips fall open the moment you start moving up and down on him, eyes rolling back the slightest bit like he forces himself to look at you as you ride him. But, when his groans turn into moans, the brunette hides his face in the crook of your neck, arms tightly wrapping around your waist. 

You don't think your can be any closer, chest against chest, your mouth to his ear as he mumbles about how you were made for him. 

Up and down, up and down, your legs start burning but you keep moving on top. 

“Fuck, I love you.”, it slips out when his hips meet yours halfway, not that you can say it, you swear you won't stop doing it at any given occasion. 

Mark answers my sucking on your neck, probably drawing blood as he more boldly snaps his hips against yours. 

You find the same desperation as when he was kissing you, carnal need wanting to be met, he fucks into you just like he means it, switching between deep and slow to fast and short snaps. 

For the second time, you feel it tighten, knot threatening to burst at any moment. If you aren't moaning, your mouth hands silently open and thankfully, Mark can tell you're getting close by the way you're clenching around him. 

“You're doing so good, so so good for me.”, voice almost unrecognisable, the way you can feel every vein and the way he pulse tells you he's as close, if not more.

“Come with me.” 

After years of tuning your body to his voice, it follows the command almost immediately, there's a few seconds where the brunette snaps his hips, slowly, deeply, right before letting a draw out moan against your neck. 

It's the last thing you hear, the way he moans you name breathlessly against your skin before you follow right behind, coming right around him like he hoped so. 

Moans and body against body sound abruptly stop for heavy breathing and soft whines, you blink a few times, forehead against Mark's baked shoulder. 

He smells like the apple shampoo he almost wears, he feels like home when his arms tightly wrap around your body and rock from side to side, almost lolling you to sleep. He feels safe, familiar, comfortable. 

And, right before you fall deep into sleep, you hear him slightly chuckle at his second favourite movie line. 

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

[kireiwoo]

[7:15am] # park seonghwa.

“oh! seonghwa, look at this one!” you exuberantly exclaim, holding up a shiny, serrated shell. it’s creamy white in complexion and holds little flecks of blue and orange gradience, and you hold it towards your boyfriend’s direction with a petulantly prideful beam. he darts a lazy thumb up from his position laid on your striped towel in response to your hard-worked finding. you’d practically begged him yesterday to start the day fresh and early; the forecast had wonderfully called for some morning sunshine, to which you couldn’t resist the temptation of.

soft and calm waves grazed the shore as you hopped around ecstatically. you aren’t quite sure where the random burst of energy crawled from but you weren’t exactly opposed to it; the haze of the morning wake helped clear your mind up, gaze growing sharper and a youthful glow appearing on your countenance. the rusted street lamps were still dimly lit and the world was asleep, but you frolicked joyfully upon the blocky sand, periodically shouting to your lazing boyfriend who insisted on catching up on sleep while you worked.

another seashell popped colourfully in your peripheral, making you skip over as seonghwa opened his bleary eyes, counting the dawn-set clouds. grasping a purple and red infused shell, you squealed at the combination of colours conjoining in the middle. seonghwa peered over in worry before adjusting his position to observe you. he enjoyed how you conducted your nuanced lifestyle; finding joy in the mundane normalcies that, to others, would seem like laborious tediousness. shell collecting is one of the oldest activities in the book, especially when you live by a beachside town, but the task seemed more and more interesting every time you did it.

“another one! seonghwa do you see this? they’re so pretty!” he can barely hear you over the gentle breeze and the ocean laps, but the foggy octave of your voice makes him conjure a smile. he clicks his tongue and sits up, dusting the towel before zipping up your bags and necessities. he deduced that he might as well join you on your little escapade—you’d already been chatting with him as if he was awake and kicking, so why not humour your inquisitiveness?

after leisurely padding his way over to you, he analytically scans the net-knitted bag that holds your innumerable amounts of seashells. each pattern is unique and individual to its own design, and seonghwa recalls fondly that you didn’t like repetitiveness—another quirk to your characterized habits. he finds it cute that you’d go to such lengths in order to collect something as basic as seashells. you could go online and buy a bag of genuine, polished and laminated seashells—maybe even some extra dried nautical cosmetic appliances for decorative needs, but for some reason you persisted with the concept of finding your own. something about ‘the experience having more meaning’, as you wisely phrased it.

“and what, pray tell, are you gonna do with all of these shells?” seonghwa chides, placing his large hands in the pocketed confines of his light brown khakis. the action is almost arrogant but you dismiss it with a blissed out sigh. you hadn’t thought about the aftermath of your crazed search, but so many possibilities filtered through your mind with reckless abandon all at once. you could make beaded necklaces, place the shells on your mantle, make a tacky but effort-filled picture frame of your sweet boyfriend—heck, there were so many ideas that you couldn’t even begin process it properly. seonghwa stood, waiting for a response as you paused mid collection.

there was an ear-to-ear grin on your face, possibly concerning if not for seonghwa’s prior experience with the expression. and this usually meant that you were satisfied with yourself or what you were thinking about. “seonghwa, there are so many possibilities,” you screech randomly, running a hand through your hair. seonghwa gulps as he see’s the strands frame your face in a way that makes his heart palpitate unfairly in his chest. the fact that you aren’t even aware of what you’re doing is the hammer on the stake for him.

“we could make vase fillers, give them to little kids, and oh! we could give them to our neighbour...” you trail off excitedly, bouncing forward while explaining your train of thought, a hand wildly flailing in the air. seonghwa can only respond with a simple and silent affectionate glisten in his eyes. the sun peaks from the horizon as seonghwa stands by the shore, damp sand tickling his toes and his mind wandering to how much he adores you.

seonghwa isn’t particularly used to inconsistency. and truthfully; he’d say that he loathes it. he loves continuous regularity and the comfort that it brings, as well as the affirmation of routine it promises—but somewhere along the line, he fell in love with your spontaneous and absurd quotes, your mismatched clothing and your need for solidarity in difference.

every moment is a new valuable memory and every day is another wanderlust-filled adventure. he quite adores it—but park seonghwa knows that he wouldn’t be able to tolerate it with anyone but you, his beautiful angel who loves collecting seashells at the crack of dawn.

[jjmaybanksbaby]

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer IV

Part 07: Crashing Down

series masterlist | previous part

summary: A jarring family emergency forces you to consider the future of your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

a/n: I'm a little bit emotional about this series ending because I've had so much fun writing it! Enjoy the last part and, as always, please come share your reactions with me in my inbox. Okay, that's all from me!

word count: 2.1k words

Rafe Cameron knew how to text. He was somehow witty, charming, and hilarious all in less characters than a single tweet. Texting with most boys was like talking to a brick wall: single-syllable answers, unironic uses of punctuation, asking “What are you wearing?” before even listening to how your day went. Though, to be fair, Rafe had asked that same question a few times, which always earned him a sarcastic answer in return. Well, except for that one time.

You’d been forced to spill the beans about your dreamy summer romance to Alice and Kensie after one of Rafe’s funnier texts almost made you pee yourself laughing at the lunch table.

“Oh, so he’s a stud muffin,” Alice announced, peering over Kenzie’s shoulder at the photo on your phone.

“Please god don’t call anyone a stud muffin ever again Al,” Kenzie replied.

“What? The 80s are like making a comeback.”

“Yeah, not that,” you countered and Alice huffed.

“He’s totally hot though,” Kenzie said, handing the phone back to you. “And I kinda hate you for not telling us about him.”

You looked down at the picture. Rafe was kissing your check while you grinned up at the camera, the golden hour lighting made the whole thing look rather enchanting. It was your favorite picture of you and him.

“Oh shit,” Kenzie said causing you to look up from the phone. “You’re like in love in love with him.”

“What? No,” you protested. Yes, your brain corrected.

Kenzie glanced over at Alice for backup.

“Besides, I wasn’t hiding him. I just didn’t know if there was anything there to...tell,” you finished.

“I wish I had a handsome summer fling with spectacular cheekbones,” Alice sighed.

“Don’t let your boyfriend hear you saying that.” Kenzie chucked a fry off her tray at Alice who dodged it expertly.

“Oh, please. Matty knows I would dump his ass for someone who looks like a young Chuck Bass any day of the week. Gimme your phone. I wanna see the photos again y/n.”

“I seriously don’t know how you and Matthew have been together for two years,” Kenzie replied.

“Are you kidding? They’re practically made for each other,” you added.

“The phone, please,” Alice interjected. “I wanna thirst over your mans while my boyfriend is sucking up to his English teacher so she doesn’t fail him. Of course, I told him he needed to actually read Wuthering Heights and not just sparknotes it. But did he listen? No. I picked a real winner y’all,” she finished, taking the phone from your outstretched hands. “You sure Rafe doesn’t have any brothers? Not even like a half-step brother?”

So yeah, going great. Against the odds of three thousand miles, the whole thing was somehow working. Long-distance friends with benefits? Check. Well, except for those moments when that nagging feeling in your stomach came back and you’d start overthinking everything. His texts would sit, unread in your phone for days or even a whole week, slowly sinking to the bottom of your messages.

Then came the call from the Kildare Country Hospital in the early hours of a foggy April morning. You should have gone to sleep hours ago but were still up, desperately trying to cram Maria’s lines into your brain while also texting Rafe. The Sound of Music opened in three weeks and your director had already chewed you out twice for not being off-book, something about being an upperclassman and the lead, and what kind of an example were you setting for the rest of the program. Big speeches were kind of your director's thing, you learned to just ride them out.

Around 1 a.m. your phone ran with an incoming FaceTime call from Rafe. You pressed the green acccept button, a smile spread across your face as Rafe’s own filled the screen.

“Hey Broadway Star.”

“Hi Rafe.” The dim lighting of his bedroom made his feature especially striking. “What are you still doing up?”

“Can’t sleep. Plus you’re up too so. How’s the memorizing going?”

“Shitty,” you replied, closing your binder with a sigh. “I’m too tired to do anymore of it tonight anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking I could come to Oregon for your opening night?”

“Really?” The possibility of Rafe sitting in the audience made your heart race.

“Yeah, why not? I’ll ask Ward if I can borrow the plane that weekend and I bet Sarah’ll want to come too. I wanna see my girl kill it. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Rafe. You know my friends think you’re hot.”

“Oh, do they?” Rafe replied, rolling over onto his back in his bed.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Cameron.”

The home phone ran but you ignored it, much more invested in your conversation with Rafe. The second time the hospital left a message. Your Nonna’s heart had given out. The prognosis wasn’t good. She had barely any time left.

Your heart dropped as the words echoed over the speaker of the answering machine.

“Rafe,” you said, cutting him off momentarily. “I gotta go. I’ll call you back later. I gotta-” you ended the call before Rafe even had the chance to respond. You dropped your phone on the kitchen table, dashing up the stairs to your parents’ bedroom. Your father was booking a flight for your mother back to the Outer Banks minutes later.

The end had come so quickly, so unexpectedly. It was almost like that made it harder. There'd been just enough time for your mom and uncle to get to the Outer Banks, sitting on each side of your Nonna as her final breaths passed through her lungs. Now, everyone was there to say goodbye one last time. Uncle Austin and his fiancé. Your mom and dad. Both your siblings. The entire population of Figure Eight.

☼☼☼

Rain drizzled down from the dark, gray clouds looming overhead. It was as if Mother Nature was mourning your Nonna too, hiding the sunshine away.

Three baby ducks followed their mama into the man-made pond at the edge of the cemetery. You watched their tiny feet kick up small waves disturbing the peaceful water and the tears silently slipped down your face.

The cars were waiting to take you back to your Nonna's house for the wake. The same house with the for-sale sign now stuck in the front yard. The for-sale sign with Rose's patronizing grin that you were starting to really hate. Your dad had handled that. Listing the house. He'd handled most of the funeral arrangement's actually because your mother had been too sunken into her grief to make any decision. Sending out the invitations, picking out your Nonna's casket, choosing the flowers. Your mother clung to him during the entire funeral, weeping into his shoulder.

“Y/n?” Rafe's voice called out from behind you and you turned to see him walked toward you. He’d stood at the back of the church with his family during the funeral. You had longed for him to be sitting in the first pew next to you, to have had his hand to hold onto to ground you, but it hardly would have been appropriate. Your Nonna would have sooner risen from the dead than have had a Cameron front row at her funeral.

As soon as he was close enough, Rafe reached for you, pulling your body tight into him. Your head landed on his chest and the sobs came moments later. God, he always smelled the same. He just let you cry, holding you close, smoothing his hand over your hair.

“I know you’re selling your grandma’s house but I was thinking you could stay with me for the summer," he said as your tears began to slow. It was hard to imagine that you wouldn't return to the Outer Banks once school let out. It was the first week of May already and you could feel the tourist-attracting town waking up. But selling the house just made more sense. Your older sister was already living her life in New York, a real adult life. Next summer, you'd be moving out too, headed to college. The house would sit empty for eight months out of the year, your family couldn't keep it and your uncle certainly didn’t want it. Selling it just had to happen.

You stepped back, slipping out of his embrace. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rafe.”

“Why not?”

“Cause we’re like Romeo and Juliet.”

“I copied Cleo’s notes for that unit," he joked, trying to lighten to damp mood. “Plus I was never a fan of Leo DiCaprio so I didn’t finish the movie either.”

“It means we’re not supposed to be together, you and me. And whenever we try, the universe rips us apart. We hurt each other.”

Rafe shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly wanting to reach for you again but stopping himself from doing it. “But I can't lose you.”

You reached your hand out, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “Oh Rafe, don’t you get it? You never really had me.” You stood up onto your tiptoes to kiss him just like you had the first time three years ago. Rafe barely parted his lips, kissing you back gently. Your hand cupped his face, your thump stroking over his cheek. It was a goodbye. Both of you knew it. It was an ending and this was your closure. You pulled away, your hand falling away from his face.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words. Your eyes fell to the ground. You needed to walk away now. You side-stepped Rafe but he grabbed your waist, turning you back around to face him.

“So that’s it? You’re not even gonna try to fight for us?”

“What even is there to fight for, Rafe? I’ve been fighting for us for the past four years. If we were supposed to be together that car wouldn’t have crashed into ours, I wouldn’t have fallen for Evan when I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at my Nonna’s funeral. What? Are we supposed to do long distance for all of college? I hardly know who I am right now. I have no idea who I’ll be in the next four years. Our future selves might not even like each other. I’m not gonna wait around for you Rafe and I would never ask you to do that for me.” You twirled the small, star charm between your fingers, a nervous habit you'd developed over the past year. His eyes dropped down to your neck momentarily and his adam's apple visibly bobbing as he swallowed his next weeks.

“You were it for me, you know. I tried to give a fuck about anyone else but I couldn’t get your gorgeous, stupid face out of my mind. I only wanted you.” Rafe paused gauging your reaction “I was falling in love with you.”

Your eyes wandered over his stoic expression. “The feeling was mutual, Rafe Cameron.”

He dropped your wrist but you both stood, not moving or saying anything. “Do you wanna walk me back to the car?”

“Yeah.” He reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. Your other hand held onto his bicep so you walked together through the graveyard back to the parking lot.

The moment felt precious and delicate, like the fragile china your Nonna used to collect. You wondered what would happen to all that china.

Rafe placed a chaste kiss on your lips before opening the door of the car.

“I’ll miss you,” you said, the words hanging in the air meaning so much.

“Me too,” Rafe agreed.

You wanted one more kiss, one more passionate declaration of how much this all had meant but that would make leaving Rafe so much more impossible.

You climbed into the car, dropping Rafe’s hand in the process.

“See you around Cameron.” You knew it wouldn’t happen but it felt better than a goodbye.

He smiled back. “Maybe so.”

Perhaps Rafe was right and you’d both end up at a small liberal arts college in California taking the same second-year Econ class with a professor who always smelled like weed. Perhaps the stars would align and two of you would realize the universe wasn’t trying to keep you apart. It was just waiting for the right moment to show you that the love you had for each other was the soulmates, forever and ever kind of love. Perhaps you would get married and Sarah would be your maid of honor, of course. You’d buy back your Nonna’s house to raise your troubling-making kids in. Perhaps, you would find your way back and wake up each day and choose each other again and again.

Or perhaps, he'd always be your right-person-wrong-time. And, in the end, the passing days will steal away your memories of the blue-eyed boy from the Outer Banks.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13

[batfoonery]

No Matter the Weather....

Doing this on my phone whilst my chrome book gets repaired..... fingers crossed the formatting isn’t too funky!

Anywho. Here’s my thoughts on the Batfam’s weather preferences. Stupid? Possibly. But we all have them.

Bruce

Likes clear nights. Easier to patrol, bc visibility.

Wont admit it, but prefers spring nights. Not too cold, but cool enough that he isn’t overheating in his armor. And the few trees in Gotham don’t trigger his allergies until autumn so....

Abhors smoggy/foggy nights because Trauma. He is always extra vigilant on nights with lower visibility—refuses to let his Robin (whichever one it may be, even if he’s on patrol with a no-longer-Robin like Steph or Tim) go more than an arm’s length away. Everyone is irritable by the end of patrol because of it.

Dick

Also prefers spring nights, but of the lightly misty variety. Not full on rain, and he’d rather not patrol in the mist (the dampness brings oil to the surface of cements and pavements, and makes it tricky to get a good grip, making it a dangerous patrol).

Likes it best in evenings or early mornings, when the sun would be hazy anyways. It reminds him of being a kid, when they’d had a few high altitude venues and he’d wake up, walk out of the trailer into a literal cloud.

Not fond of thunderstorms. As a kid they wouldn’t ever perform in storms, because they risked the poles being struck by lightning. He’s still wary of it as an adult, because it was one of those safety rules drilled into him so heavily (childhood swim team people—you know what I mean?). Has adjusted his patrol routes so that he has a safer route on storm nights—he goes by the streets rather than rooftops those nights.

Jason

Likes storms—they provide good cover and all that. But also, there’s something innately soothing about the storms outside reflecting the general chaos of his mind/emotions. Likes to sit and just. Watch.

Probably a summer child. Likes the way that sitting in front of a window lets the sun seep into his bones and soothe old aches.

Not fond of the muggy weather before or after a storm. The humidity messes with his hair and his helmets get all sweaty, which is really really gross tbh.

Cass

Likes crisp, clear autumn nights. She doesn’t seem to have any allergens in Gotham, so she enjoys the full benefits of autumn.

Gotham has a few autumn celebrations and street festivals, so clear nights filled with the lights and smells of fried festival foods bring her joy. Watching from the shadows as kids shriek on the tilt-a-whirl and parents take pictures and eat funnel cake... everyone knows Black Bat is watching their backs. Batman is scary, but Black Bat is a nightmare when crossed, so major villains steer clear of these smaller festivities, and the rogues that do intrude quickly learn why it is a bad idea.

Doesn’t like snow. It makes her joints stiff.

Tim

Winter baby. He’s allergic to everything, so in winter when everything is dead or sleeping and he doesn’t have to worry about his eyes itching while on patrol he’s happiest to be on patrol.

Likes snowy nights. When it’s dead outside, everyone tucked away unwilling to embrace the cold. If things time out just right, in the wee hours of the morning Gotham looks like something out of a fairy tale, snow undisturbed and air quiet. He’s gotten some of the best shots of the city at these times and looking at them makes him nostalgic.

Doesn’t like sunny summer days. He thinks he’s melting in his suit, and there’s always something making him sneeze. Probably has to carry around a parasol.

Steph

Likes winter nights too. Likes the clear nights when the air just feels clean (even if all the pollution means it isn’t ever clean anymore). It feels like she could be anyone on these kinds of nights—go anywhere and start over, be someone new. But then morning comes and she remembers that she doesn’t know how to be anyone else, deep down.

Not crazy about spring. It’s a different muggy than summer, and all the bugs come out.

Hates fog. Scary things lurk in the thick mist, and B gets even more annoying and controlling than usual. They aren’t allowed to patrol together on foggy nights anymore, as per Alfred.

Duke

Likes early late spring/early summer mornings. The air is still cool and crisp, and the morning dew clings to the grass as he heads out for patrol. There’s no worry about overheating and the world is still sleepy and silent enough for him to have space to think.

Probably lowkey terrified of hurricanes. Has a stockpile in the house specifically built up for hurricane season. Every year it is dutifully checked and batteries refreshed etc etc. Gotham doesn’t get them often, but it still haunts him.

If one does hit, all the kids stay in from patrol (and Bruce too, if he isn’t away on JLA business) and they let him herd them into his designated safe room and they ride it out together. They don’t get much flooding because of where the manor is situated, but sometimes Batcow’s pen gets a bit soggy.

Damian

Likes misty weather, especially in the fall or spring. Weather is nicest then anyways, and he likes the way that the city looks when it is overcast out. The lights seem brighter and the shadows darker and the buildings both stand out and blend into the sky..... a place full of adventure. A siren song for a little boy.

Hates hail with a burning passion. Hadn’t experienced it much before moving to Gotham. It makes no sense! Ice from the sky?! In summer spring and fall but NOT winter?! He knows the science of it but it’s still annoying as heck and he hates it.

Clear nights make him sad. It’s one thing when he’s out in the Midwest with Jon, and the corn fields stretch out for forever and they can spend the evening pointing out stars and he can recall all the stories about them from his childhood (secret whispers, his mother’s voice hushed so no one else would hear as she told him about sailors and heroes and gods, whispered promises about how he would be the greatest among them someday.....). But in Gotham, there are no stars even when the sky is completely cloud-free. There is too much light pollution and it makes his heart heavy.

Babs

Likes when it just starts to snow. She’s got all these cozy afghans all over the clock tower, and it’s kind of nice to curl up with one and a mug of coffee or cocoa in the windows and just watch the little flurries flutter down.

Rain is the same, she likes watching the drops race down her windows, leaving little paths behind.

Probably doesn’t have a season or type of weather she doesn’t like. She just prefers ones that give her an excuse to get cozy at home. And ones that provide white noise that help her sleep.

[the-crows-typist]

Since your latest post says you’re back, I’d like to request a ficlet with Azul x F!mc with the random word as curious. I’m so glad to hear you’re back as I really enjoy your writings, thank you 😊!

Thanks a lot Anon, I hope you like this piece of mine.

CW: Minor mention of bullying, Angst with a Happy Ending, minor mention of wound, wound healing and potential OOC

Word count: 3,435

The Possibilities are Endless

“I made a promise to you.”

Curiosity. Inquisitive, wondering, ready to poke around and figure something out. Around him, all he ever saw the deep blue, the seagrass, the fish he could easily catch with one of his tentacles. Octopi like his were curious by nature and often to a slightly violent extent. He would peak his head over the surface, watching the seagulls cry overhead and the humans walking over planks of wood. In the disguise of the night, the young boy could always watch humans at their most natural and most vulnerable and wonder to himself what life would be like had he been born a human.

He doubted it would be any different from the life he lived day today.

As fun as learning was, it was boring not being able to share it with those who cared. Time with his classmates was bad during classes and all the more during recess but during the times Azul could escape their grasp quick enough, he would swim to lonely areas around the school to read and write his learnings in discarded shells, flipping through page after page of borrowed books from the library learning and taking in the information written on paper. 

His hand halted on a picture of children playing; the light brown color of dirt, the bright colors of shirts and dress, the happy yet dirtied faces of the youth who continued to pass the ball to one another. The young octopus' shoulders hung low, his eyes training down and at nothing. Would his life be that different had he been born human? Would he be able to play with the other children had he been given two legs instead of eight?

There was a sniffle and Azul's rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly. Suddenly something hit his head, something like and equally small. A red sandal floated down to his lap, a kid's shoe. From above, a shadow loomed over him, and on instinct, he gathered his things and rushed to the nearest hiding place. There was the smell of blood in the water, the boy taking courage to peek from the safety of his hiding place.

A girl whose hair flowed in the water like a ribbon speared a fish right through, her mouth covered with a breathing apparatus, eyes protected with goggles, and a red sandal missing from her left foot. Azul looked at the Sandal at his hand then to the girl who expertly drove her spear into another fish. He had never seen a human this up close before and with that spear, he could easily get hurt…Looking at her again, she reached down, patting her empty foot while bubbles released from her breathing gear.

The boy moved slowly and glided through the water while leaving all but the sandal behind. He stopped in his tracks when she turned around, her eyes shined brilliantly behind the foggy looking goggles and immediately trained to the sandal in his hands. 

"Y-yours…?"

He offered the sandal to her, both hands holding it up. She nods her head, taking the shoe from him and slipping it back on. Her hand moved, palm motioning him to follow and finger pointing up. Come with me. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that she came to the sea to hunt and with a spear full of nearly dying fish didn't help her image any better. He pointed at the spear to his chest, finger pushing to the skin and she shook her head. At that moment, she took his wrist and swam up with a swarm of warm bubbles floating around them. Azul wondered if following this human girl to the surface was a good idea if leaving the school so suddenly was all right but seeing her hold him without disgust…

It struck a chord with him.

She gasped when they broke the surface, the sun beating down on them from high above. It was the middle of the day, a time when sailors slept and the water becomes calm. Next to them was a small boat where the girl threw her spear in along with her gear. Without the goggles, he could see her clearly, she had eyes like molten gold and hair stringy like seagrass. "I'm sorry I had to bring you up here with me. My oxygen was running out and I couldn't hear you." 

"It's okay." He said softly, his eyes lingering to the boat then to her. "Um…Did you come here to look for fish?" 

"Yup. Fish are easier to catch than chickens or boar." She laughed, her teeth shiny and smile wide, it was cute and Azul couldn't help but sink into the water to hide his blush. "But it kinda does suck when they're really small, though. I wish I could capture bigger fish so I can have a feast but usually, adults have to do it or I get pulled in trying to catch it." 

"Like groupers?" He asked. "The big kind?" 

"Yeah! Those are really big and taste good too. A light grilling and some salt really go a long way." Azul looked down at the water again as the human moved to chuck her shoes into the small boat. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Azul."

"Like the color blue?"

 

"Huh?" The girl looked to the side and Azul's heart sped up, thinking he said something wrong. "I saw this book once that your name means blue. I was just wondering if that's the reason why you have that name. Your eyes are pretty blue, too." 

"I can ask my parents later…" 

Their brief meeting was cut short when a voice from afar yelled, the girl quickly getting onto the boat as it waddled in the water. "I'll wait for your answer tomorrow. Can I see you here again?" She asked, her wet face smiling down at him and he nodded. "Great! Bye, Azul!" With a snap of her fingers, the small anchor pulled up and the boat sped away with a torrent of water. The two of them waving goodbye as the distance between them grew and grew.

"Tomorrow…"

When he got back to the classroom, the teacher scolded him for being late and the usual pattern of torment began again but somehow the promise he made with the girl with the golden eyes made him push through. He didn't sleep easy that night, especially with the excitement he held in his heart. He couldn't wait for tomorrow. He couldn't wait to see her.

Their new meeting place was along the rocky cavern where she could sit and on her lap was a book propped up for him to see. Her finger pointed at a word. "See? Azul. It means blue in different languages." Azul leaned against the rocks' the push and pull of the water against his dark skin. "It's a possibility. I never really thought about it that way." 

It was his turn to show her something, a shell with scribbles of writings. They figured early that books from underwater were not easy to bring on land so Azul immediately switched to the gathered shells he had. "I like to read grimoires sometimes and I put anything I find interesting into a shell. Any spell I like is in there."

Taking the shell from his palm, the girl took a look at it and reading its inscriptions. "This spell…"

Azul nodded his head. "It's a spell to change the color of something. It can be anything too." 

"Can I try it out?"

"Can you do magic?"

"A little bit." 

"Do it."

 

Taking a small rock into her hand, the girl looked to the shell to recite the color-changing spell. "Like a rainbow in your palm and voice ever calm, may the item you wish to change be yours to arrange." The rock began to glow, reflecting a myriad of colors like glass under the summer sun. Its shine subsided, the stone suddenly a deep blue. She held it up, staring into it. "Wow…"

"Pretty neat, huh?" Azul smiled up at her when she nodded. "This is super cool! What else do you know, I want to show this to my family later." It was shell after shell of small spells that almost lit up the cavern they stayed in and soon, the floor was littered with shining rocks and off-color stones. The girl sighed, trying to regain her breathing while Azul collected the shells to his chest. "You shouldn't use your magic all willy nilly, you might overblot." 

"That's okay. I'm strong, I can't overblot!"

Azul's grimace and amusement weren't hidden and the two laughed with each other, their soft voices echoing through the empty cavern.

 

"Will I see you here again, Azul?"

There was a silence between them, a beat of hesitation, but Azul leaned against the soft rock with a smile. "If only you bring another book with you."

The next day, she was late to the meeting but Azul paid no mind to it. In her hands was a big book about mountains and their animals and on her knee was a scratch. "Are you okay?" he asked, pointing his nubby finger at her wound to which he just shook her head. "The kids I play with can be rowdy at times but I didn't want to play with them anymore after that." She set the book down and opened it. 

He looked at her eyes, those pretty gold eyes of hers, and his shoulders hunched a small bit. He knows those eyes. When they droop and look at nothing when the brows are low and furrowed.

 

"Hold still."

With a careful hand and concentrated magic, Azul continued to look at her knee as he let magic flow from within him to her knee. The skin began to close and the pain had subsided, her eyes widened while his closed. 

"Azul?"

He opened his eyes, a hand had stroked his drying hair. He pushed himself too much, it seems, and his friend took to letting him rest against the rocks. Her smile was soft and her eyes no longer looking like they were before, the eyes were warm and the brows relaxed. The wound on her knee was smaller now.

"Thanks." She told him, bringing her legs to her chest. "Here. I'll tell you about elephants."

He leaned in further, careful not to wet the book. "Huh, they're different from the ones we have in the sea."

"Sea elephants, right?"

"Yup. They're all blubbery and have really large noses. We don't usually see them around here but I heard they can get pretty mean." He looks down at the rock in thought. "But they are pretty big like land elephants." The girl closes the book with a huff. "I'll take your word for it. Now, show me what you've got."

Smiling, he set a few shells down. 

"Here's the spell I saw today—."

Azul rested on the rocks, his hand tracing the markings on the shells he brought. The cavern was empty and silent, his mind whirling to the girl he was supposed to meet in that same spot. He turned the shell over and traced his finger on the grove patterns. 

"Azul, sorry I'm late." 

She came in, drenched in water. "What happened?" He asked suddenly and she just smiled at him, a smile he didn't exactly trust was telling the truth. "I just thought to take a shower on the way here, that's all." His eyes followed her as she sat down with a book on her lap. "Was it the kids again?"

Her shoulders slumped and her lips were pursed. "I…They get rowdy. I thought I could outrun them." She took a look at her drenched form with an awkward laugh. "But at least the book is safe. It's about plants this time." Azul continued to stare at them, blinking and nudging the shells forward. "You protected the book from them, didn't you?" 

"I did." With a watery smile, she nodded her head and brows furrowed. "…I did."

She clutched the book closer to her chest and Azul reached over to pat her good knee. "Azul, you'll always be here, right? You're never going to stop being my friend, right?" Golden eyes mixed with clear glass, her voice sounded so desperate and broken that Azul couldn't help but feel the sadness drip from her lips. He squeezed her knee just a little bit. 

"I will. I promise."

The next time they met, they were on the small boat they met in with Azul holding onto its bamboo fixtures. "What's life like in the sea?" She asked suddenly, her feet paddling against the water. "It's mostly wet and there's a lot of fish around…" Azul began, his eyes downcast at the water below. "School is like a record and people can be mean sometimes, you have to look out for sharks of giant squids, and the currents are sometimes a butt to deal with." 

Her golden eyes flickered for a moment and she chuckled, eyes closed, smile light, and brows furrowed. "Not much different from life on land, huh? But having pretty fins or tentacles seems fun too." She looks to Azul and for a second she hesitates. 

"Can you turn me into one?" 

He is silent for a moment, surprised and confused why someone on land would want that. "Um…" He stuttered, his face flushed and eyes downcast. "I don't think…My magic can do that, yet." Her golden eyes remained warm and she shook her head. "I'm just kidding." 

Yet Azul had a feeling she wasn't. 

"Is it because of the kids?" He asked curiously but she stayed silent, opting not to answer and instead asked a question in return. 

"You'll always be my friend, right?"

He nodded his head without a second thought but was confused why she would think to ask that. 

"I…I will. Of course, I will."

She rubbed her knee, feeling for the closed wound and sniffling after being exposed to the cold water of yesterday.

He waited in the cavern the entire day, waiting for her to show up. His shells were prepared but with no one to look at them. He should have known this would happen, he should have known it was too good to be true. He sulked against the smooth rock and felt the washed brush and leave his back. She never came. 

Had he done something wrong? She would have told him.

Perhaps she got bored of him…The spells he showed were the most basic as they come, it wasn't enough. Azul pulled away from the rocks and looked deeper into the empty cavern. Something cold froze his insides yet licked his body like fire, he felt his eyes sting. 

He should have known better.

He left the shells on the edge and went back to sea, never looking back from the place he once held hope in. He forced himself not to cry. He forced himself not to feel sad and only let his feels show when he found himself in his special spot.

He covered his face, remembering their chance meeting, her red sandal, and golden eyes. He remembered her smile, the promise they made. Azul shook his head, telling himself to forget. Forget. FORGET!

Suddenly, a piece of seaweed hit his head and the voice of two boys whispered above him. "I told you that wasn't a trashcan, Floyd." One chided. "What, I'm just gonna throw wherever this and get in trouble? C'mon Jade." He swats the piece of seaweed out of the pot and popped his head out. "Do you mind?"

"Ack!" 

Two eels floated before him and one's eyes were wide in surprise and the other the mix of amusement and a face that just oozes of 'I-told-you-so' energy.

"I'm not a trash can, I'm your classmate." 

"Huh? Oh wait, you're the one we have science class with." The culprit said, pointing a sharp finger at him. "What's your name again?"

"Azul. Azul Ashengrotto."

"Okay, Octie."

"It's Azul!"

His life turned around when he met the twins, the power that he grew was immense. While Azul was not good at sports as much as the twins; he excelled in books, in his studies, in business. His power allowed him to grant favors, to hold power over those once thought to be strong. For once in his life, no one thought to ever look at him as the stupid, lonely octopus he was once was nor did anyone think to lay a hand on him. 

And things were fine that way.

But more often than not, he would catch himself thinking about the girl he once became friends with and wondering what she was doing or if that wound on her knee was doing okay. Even after the sudden departure, their brief friendship never left his mind nor did the memories lose their sweetness. His feelings were a mix of resentment, curiosity, or sadness, and even guilt.

He would look up from the seafloor to the shining surface above and wonder if she would be there waiting.

"Azul, there's someone who wants to see you." Says Jade.

But the business was always his priority. He turned away from the surface but his heart never could. "Coming." He swam away but his feelings stayed in one place, yearning and hating for the day he'll come to see her.

Though time heals wounds, the bitter sting of remembrance was something he disliked immensely. Azul's trips to the sea were less frequent and when he did, it was usually to visit his family and help around. With school done for the year and the family business running smoothly, there wasn't much he could do now but bide away his time. 

He swam through the open ocean, his legs propelling him around the deep blue. He would resurface no long after to look at the sun and the water around him, his eyes adjusting to the sudden appearance of light after he had been in the dark blue depths long. It was noon, a time when fishermen slept and left the waters quiet. 

He swam in a certain direction, to a place he once knew. A cavern-like entrance where he pulled himself up and bare feet touching the ground. For the short time he had spent there, he had memorized every crevice and detail.

"It's like it never changed." 

He walked further in and looked in the deepest nook, he saw a tinge of color. Old shells packed into a neat pile, his old shells that he gave away to his friend. Looking back on it, he realized the two of them went through the same thing and wishing the same wishes. She was just more vocal about them.

He picked one up from the pile, it was the spell that allowed an object to change its color. 

"Ah, this one takes me back."

Even how short their friendship was, he had fun just talking to her. While it was sad he never got to see her again after that day, he enjoyed it while it lasted. He returned the shell to its pile and moved to turn around, a figure stopped blocked his path.

Red sandals, eyes like melting gold, hair stringy from seawater, and a spear with two fish held to their side.

"Azul?" Her voice was just as he remembered.

The moment was short and Azul's breathing stopped for only a few seconds. A warmth passed through him, a wave of nostalgia. "You're back." He said, his shoulders bobbing through his airy laughs "I waited for a long time, y'know? Now look at us, we're bigger now." She discarded her spear to the ground and ran towards him, one of her sandals leaving her food as he hugged him. 

 

No words were said between them, their arms looping around each other in an embrace both seemed to be ready and yearning for. Her nose buried into his shoulder and his hands in her wet hair. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "I'm so sorry I left. I just couldn't—I had to leave. I wanted to go to you but—! She sputtered into your skin. "I had no time left to say goodbye. I'm sorry."

"I made a promise, didn't I?" He said, pulling away from her.

Their foreheads connected, ah, how long had it been since he felt so vulnerable? There were so many things he wanted to say and he knew she also felt the same. Perhaps another time the two of them could put two and two together. 

"I'll always be here."

[depressedhatakekakashi]

This is Not Relaxing

AU: None/Canon

Words: 1560

Rating: Teen

Characters: Hatake Kakashi and Tsunade Senju

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol

Summary: A day off was something special. Time for shinobi to relax and enjoy themselves. Apparently, Tsunade-sama has different plans for Kakashi’s day off.

Days off were a rare treat for Kakashi.

A chance to kick back, relax, and not have to stress about the newest mission that Tsunade-sama had decided to send him out on. Somewhere under a nice tree, he’d huddle up with his favourite book and spend hours just getting lost in a familiar world. Maybe he’d even take a nap.

All of those plans were thrown out the window as soon he woke up that morning to find none other than Senju Tsunade, Hokage of Konoha, sitting at his dinner table.

“We’re hanging out today.”

The words were still ringing in his ears as he followed her through the streets of Konoha, wondering where it was they could possibly be going. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with the older woman. He quite enjoyed her company, when she hadn’t consumed too much sake to stand on her own anymore.

When he thought of a ‘day off’ though, the first thing that came to mind was not spending the day with the Hokage.

“So, I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me why I just got dragged out of my apartment by the Hokage,” Tsunade-sama’s only response was the slightest shift of her eyes. Something that was easy for anyone else to miss, but clearly said ‘Stop there or die’ to Kakashi. “Right, of course not.”

It was his mistake.

He should have known better than to use her position when referring to her, even if it was the correct thing to say. Being Hokage was as much a dream for Tsunade-sama as it was for Kakashi himself.

In other words, it was the furthest thing from what either of them wanted in their lives. Kakashi was surprised Naruto had managed to convince the Sannin to take the job at all. Of course, he was the number one unpredictable shinobi. If someone thought a job was impossible, there was no doubt that Naruto would find a way to do it just to prove them wrong.

“Mah, I was really looking forward to relaxing today.” extracting his hands from his pockets, he poked the older woman’s rib cage and chuckled when she responded by trying to deck him. It wasn’t an easy punch to dodge, but he managed to duck under it at the last second, avoiding having his head popped off by her incredible strength.

“If you keep this up you’ll be relaxing for a week in the hospital, brat.” She warned. “Jeez, you’re just like your father. You always have to bug me.”

His father.

A small smile tugged at Kakashi’s lips. He hadn’t heard her mention his father in years. Partially because she was always out of the village travelling, but mostly because the last time she had tried Kakashi had yelled at her.

He had been so young back then. Angry about what had happened, and hurt beyond imagination because of his father’s choice. When he had heard fondness in the older woman’s voice at the mention of his father, he snapped.

Told her never to bring his old man up ever again. That he was dead and gone and Kakashi was better off without him.

Back then, he had believed his own words. Now though, he’d give anything to take them back.

“How about some Sake,” Her smile is wider than he has ever seen it before, with a glint in her eyes that screams danger. “I’ll pay.”

Well, as long as he wasn’t the one having to pay.

“How can I say no?”

With the invitation accepted, Tsunade-Sama took hold of his right arm and tugged him through the streets of Konoha to whatever place she had decided to get him drunk at.

He wasn’t looking forward to the hangover in the morning, but there was one bonus to getting drunk with the Hokage. If it was her fault that he wasn’t in any shape to do a mission, she’d have to give him an extra day off to recover.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Agreeing to go out drinking with Tsunade-sama had been a huge mistake. There’s no reason he shouldn’t have known better. Everyone knew about the Hokage’s terrible drinking habit and her high tolerance for alcohol.

There was no way he was going to be able to keep up with her, but here he was. Sitting across from her at a small restaurant watching as she poured him a fourth glass of Sake like it was no big deal.

His head was already starting to get foggy, and he’s pretty sure the filter on his mouth stopped working after his third shot of Sake. That was the only explanation he had for the fact that he had just told her, without fear of judgment, that he had never gotten the ‘birds and the Bees’ talk.

“No wonder you’re always reading Icha Icha,” setting the bottle of Sake down, she lifted her glass towards him and then proceed to shoot back her fifth cup. Already one ahead of him and looking like she was handling it a lot better. “You know, Jiraiys books are the worst place to go for information on that kind of stuff. I wouldn’t call him ‘experienced’ in the subject.”

“Meh, where else am I supposed to learn it?” Giving his shoulders a shrug, he stared down at his own cup of sake. “I’m an adult with no parental figure to ask about that sort of thing. At this point, it’s sink or swim.”

“Did Minato never give you the talk?”

“I think Sensei had bigger things on his mind around the time I might have gotten that particular talk from him,” His pregnant wife, Rin’s death, Kakashi’s trauma’s, his duties as Hokage. There were a lot of things his Sensei had to take care of at the time, and then before they knew it he was dead. “Besides, he would have made it awkward. He was always so…”

“Embarrassing?” Tsunade-sama chuckled. “That’s the impression I always got of him when I would watch him training with Jiraya.”

“It’s not the wrong impression,” Kakashi agreed. “Sensei was a deadly shinobi, but he was also a dork at heart.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Picking up the bottle of Sake once more, she held it up for him to see. A silent question that he quickly answered with a simple nod towards his still full cup. “Even the most deadly shinobi’s in the world can be giant dorks, Kakashi. You should know that better than anyone. After all, your father was the biggest dork of them all.”

Kakashi laughed. A shallow, bitter laugh with no real joy in it.

“You don’t believe me?” Tsunade-sama waved a finger towards him. “Don’t tell me people really have you thinking he was some suave, sophisticated guy. He was a huge dork. Most days he could out dork Minato without even trying. Heck, Even Naruto isn’t as dorky as Sakumo was.”

“I believe you,” holding up his hands in surrender, he watched as she narrowed her eyes. “I just…”

It was hard to admit.

Most people had pictures of their families. Memories that they held dear to them of the loved ones they lost.

Him?

He had nothing. The few pictures his father had been able to take between missions had been lost to time. Some of them still hidden somewhere in the old Hatake residence that Kakashi refuses to step foot into even though he continued to pay for it so that it wouldn’t be torn down.

“Tell me a story.” The filter on his mouth failed him once more, but this time he couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed about it. It was his day off and he was supposed to be enjoying himself. What better way to enjoy himself than to actually hear a good memory about his father.

Something to combat all of the vile spewed on his name after his death. All the hatred that had been thrown at him and Kakashi for the simple mistake of choosing his teammate’s lives over the mission.

“A story?” There’s a sad look in her eyes. One that Kakashi knows deep down is because of him. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Last time-”

He waved a hand, cutting off the rest of her sentence. “I was a kid. Angry and bitter about things I really didn’t understand,” but he had come to terms with it all. Accepted what he couldn’t understand back then. “I just...You’re the only person I know who has stories about him. About who he was outside of missions and duty.”

Sadness gives way to fondness, and with a playful smile, she leaned forward and propped her elbows on the table.

“It could get embarrassing,” She warned. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“If there’s one thing I know for certain about my father, It’s that he is easily the most embarrassing man to ever exist in this world,” Picking up his cup of Sake finally, he tipped it towards her and gave her a soft smile. “Beside’s, nothing you can tell me could possibly be worse than what I have to endure with Gai most days.”

Judging by the look of sheer glee the made its home on Tsunade-sama’s face, he was wrong.

So very, completely wrong.

And he couldn’t wait to hear all about it.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @little-old-rachel

to @misssquidtracy

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

Summary: Scott will always insist that actually, Gordon’s first snow was the year he was born, to which Gordon says, “yeah, like I remember that, Scooter,” but if you ask Gordon, his first snow was when he was five and three quarters. 

Part One: First Snow

Over the last few years, Kansas has seen a spate of mild winters and wet summers - not even a snowflake to be seen. But this year is The One, Gordon can feel it. After years of envying the way Scott and Virg wax lyrical about snowball fights and school closures, this is Gordon’s year.

This particular morning had dawned like any other; a fine mist gradually curling a retreat from muddy fields, breath like dragon’s smoke before him as he and the other kids wait for the school bus, and a chill in the air that almost sounds like Mom (“are you sure shorts in December are a good idea, kiddo?"). Once sandwiched between a barely-conscious Virgil and foggy window, Gordon entertains himself drawing in the condensation. 

“Look V, it’s a dolphin!” He pokes his sleepy brother in the side until Virgil raises his head, eyes bleary, and removes an earbud. 

“So it is, Gordo,” Virgil says, though Gordon’s ‘dolphin’ looks more plane-like than aquatic. 

“Do me a squid,” Gordon says, yanking at his big brother’s sleeve and employing the big round eyes he’s fast learning will get him what he wants. Virgil obliges - of course he does, because who could resist Gordon - and the rest of the journey is spent with Virgil poking out increasingly obscure sea creatures in the condensation. 

Outside the bus, the sun rises, the fog clears, but thick white clouds remain. Virgil happens to glance up as he walks his brother to the kindergarten classroom, and says, “hm, I wonder if it’ll snow today,” and Gordon stops dead.

“Today?! Is it gonna snow? Today?”

Virgil suppresses a yawn - how is he still tired? - and shrugs. “Johnny thought it might. S’the right clouds for it.”

An electric buzz shoots through Gordon’s limbs and he can feel himself practically vibrating with excitement. Actual snow! Today! He can’t wait, even as Virgil tugs him across the ice-slicked playground towards school.

It’s going to snow!

****

Or so he thought.

Gordon’s been watching the window all day, to the extent that Mrs Cartwright has had to call his name three times to drag his gaze from it. He can’t help it that her classes are boring-schmoring and he already knows how to sound words out. 

He’s only been in kindergarten for a year or so, but he’s less than impressed. John always gushed about school, sure, but John’s a nerd (he’s allowed to say that, because Johnny’s his brother), so Gordon took that with a healthy pinch of salt. Thanks to Virgil, Gordon’s heard enough about the arts department to last a lifetime, and again that’s not really his jam.. But Scott, too, was enthusiastic about his classes and Scott was cool. 

Well, you know what’s not cool, Scotty? 

Being stuck next to Barry Duckworth, who still mixes up his ‘b’s and ‘d’s. 

“Gordon, please don’t make me ask you again.” 

Gordon smiles serenely at Mrs Cartwright until she’s turned back to the smartboard, then tips his gaze back to the window. He can’t help that his brain goes a million miles a minute, until it snags on something, like the threads of Dad’s old Christmas sweater. And then that’s suddenly all he can think about for hours at a time; it’s why he’s so good in his swimming classes, because he can fixate on cutting through the water as fast as possible like nothing else, relishing in one of the few times he can outpace his brain. 

Anyway. Thanks to Virgil’s offhand comment, today his brain is absolutely fixed on snow and there’s nothing he can do except watch as the sky gets greyer. 

Maybe Johnny was wrong and they weren’t the right clouds, after all…

****

Except, Johnny’s never wrong - something he’ll only truly come to appreciate later in life - because when the school bell finally rings for hometime, he and Darry Buckworth spill out into a playground that’s ever so slightly dusted white.

Gordon grabs Barry’s arm excitedly, has the bizarre desire to lick the icing sugar-like substance. He resists, only because his mom’s standing at the gate and the desire to fling his arms around her outweighs the urge to get a good taste of the playground. 

Besides, he tells himself, he can play in the snow later.

But there’s no time - there’s never enough time. Between rushing to his swimming lesson, dropping Virgil at his piano teacher’s place, taking Scott to Scouts, collecting John from Science Club, and the constant backdrop of little Allie’s wailing, the Tracy family is zombie-like over their dinner that evening. 

It’s all Gordon can do to shovel chicken pie in his mouth as his eyes droop lower and lower, until they finally close all the way. He would have face planted straight into the remaining saucy goodness on his plate if it weren’t for Scott’s lightning quick reactions. 

Before he can find the words to ask about the snow, he has Gordon tucked up in bed. His eyelids are too heavy to even glance out of the window, and so Gordon surrenders to sleep with weary acceptance.

****

The next morning, Gordon wakes to a whole new world he’s only seen in picture books. 

He can’t believe how bright it is, it almost hurts to look at the dazzling, unfamiliar shapes across the fields. The sharp edges of every building have been softened beneath a wedge of snow, the field boundaries vanished under an endless white expanse, trees that were bare only yesterday now swaying beneath the weight of their new finery. Delicate crystals of ice dangle from the windowsill. Tiny snowflakes trim the edges of his window like lace. 

“John. John, you were right!”

John grunts something back at him, rolling over and Gordon rolls his eyes.

One glance back outside has him letting out a whoop loud enough to wake even a hibernating bear. Gordon flings his door open, banging into his oldest brothers’ room and shaking Scott’s shoulder till he stirs with a groan. 

“Snow, Scott, it’s snowed.”

A growl from across the room has him retreating behind his oldest brother’s bed, because a barely-awake Virgil is a Dangerous Thing. 

“Gords, no,” Scott hisses. “You woke him.”

“Worth it!”

“Would someone like to tell me why I’m awake at 5:00am?” Virgil is the biggest softie in the world, with a heart of twenty-four carat gold, but in that moment his voice is deadly. 

Scott and Gordon exchange Looks for a split second, and then Gordon makes his escape, darting from the danger zone and leaping into his parents’ room instead. “Mom, mom, moooooom!” 

Dad cracks an eye open, murmurs something to Mom that sounds suspiciously like “save me from your son,” and shoves his head under the pillow. 

“Like he didn’t get this from you, Captain Snowball Fight,” Mom retorts, but she’s got the fondest smile on her face as she looks down at her husband. 

Dad peeks his head from under the pillow. “You love me anyway,” he says, sleep lines crinkling an unfiltered, joyful smile.

“More than life, Jeff.”

And then she’s ducking her head to kiss him - and - gross -

Gordon makes a loud retching sound, dramatically flinging himself across the sheets and thereby crushing any romantic atmosphere. 

Mom rolls her eyes, but it’s just as fond. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“It SNOWED, Mom it actually snowed! Johnny was right and it’s all white outside! I can’t wait to play in it, please can I go? Please? Do you think we’ll get the day off school? Please say yes, pretty please? I can’t-”

Dad swoops down, cutting him off with a surprise tickle attack and Gordon shrieks, writhing down the bed and flopping to the floor with a thud. 

He loves these moments with his parents more than anything else in the world - maybe even more than blue-ringed octopi, which is A Lot because have you seen them?! Living in a family of five brothers is absolute carnage and Gordon adores every second of it. But sometimes, it’s like he gets a little bit forgotten in the chaos, even more so since Alan was born.

Speaking of which, Alan, of course, chooses that moment to wake up, big blue eyes blinking slowly at them. Until he puckers his face up and begins howling. 

“I’ve got him!” Dad says, rubbing a hand over his face as he makes his way to Alan’s cot. “What’s up, little man? What’s with all the noise? You're gonna be like your big brother?” 

Alan brandishes his arms and Dad scoops him up, tucking up him against his chest and humming quietly. “Luce, love, I’ve got him,” he says softly, “I’m gonna need to go in to work this morning, so why not take this little sea monkey to play outside whilst you can?” He nods his head at Gordon, who perks up immediately.

“Actually, Dad, I don’t think I would be a sea monkey, they’re not much fun!”

“Oh, my mistake, what would you be then, son?”

“A seal, I think. They love to play allllll day long.”

“Sounds about right,” Mom says, ruffling his unruly blonde curls. “Alright then, little seal pup. Wrap up warm, let’s go play!”

****

John is awake by the time Gordon returns. As Gordon flings his pyjamas off, yanking on thick socks and sweats, John is there to steady him when he tries to shove both legs into the same hole of his trousers. 

“You’re going to want those gloves,” John says, pointing at the heap of discarded clothes on the floor. 

“Nah, I want to be able to feel the snow! Otherwise I won’t make the best snowballs.”

John rolls his eyes, but tucks Gordon’s gloves into his own pocket. “More fool you when you lose your fingers to frostbite.”

“What’s that?”

“John’s right, kiddo.” Mom is standing in the doorway, scarf wound about her neck and fluffy socks up to her knees. “Gloves on, or you’ll end up like Captain Hook!”

“He lost his hand, silly, not his fingers! Now come on!” 

Gordon seizes his Mom’s hand and John’s sleeve, dragging them excitedly down the stairs to the door, bouncing uncontrollably as Mom unlocks it. 

Finally.

Finally! 

Gordon darts outside, stumbling in the thick layer of snow that sinks him knee deep and lets out a cry of delight as he sinks his face into it, and-

“Noooooooooo!” he yelps - yelps, not squeals, thank you very much John - and leaps back towards the door. “It’s so cold!”

“Of course it’s cold, doofus,” John says. His tone of voice would be cruel if it were anyone else, but it’s John so of course it’s not. “It’s made of ice. Ice is cold.”

“But�� but…”

A cold explosion strikes him in the chest, and Gordon turns an expression of utter betrayal to see his Mom grinning maniacally. “A little cold never hurt nobody!” she yells, ducking for another scoop of snow. 

Gordon lets out an indignant whoop, grabs a handful of snow and flings it back at her. It falls apart before it reaches her, snow scattering everywhere. The ice sticks to his hands, and he shivers at the dampness of it. 

Before he even has to ask, John has whipped out the gloves and is holding them out to him. He gratefully accepts, just as Scott rushes out of the house to join them. 

“Snowball fight!” he yells, eyes shining with glee. 

Virgil follows, still yawning a little, but he perks up at Scott’s words. “You’re on,” he says with a grin. 

Mom holds up a hand, “Scott and John against me, Virgil and Gordon.”

Scott hesitates. “But there’s three of you, and only two of us!”

“War is war,” Mom says, “there’s no shame in admitting defeat-”

“Oh you are on,” says Scott at once, as they all knew he would. “Come on, Johnny. We have some snowballs to make.”

Virgil bounds over to Gordon and Mom, and together they begin compiling their own mound of weapons. Mom shows Gordon how to pack it into a ball so that it doesn’t splinter apart, whilst Virgil quietly beavers away, producing snowballs at double the speed. Gordon’s cold but he’s also pressed between his mom and brother, and the warmth in his heart is absolutely worth the occasional shiver. 

Finally, they’re ready.

With a blood-curdling battle cry, Gordon launches the first snowball. It falls short - by a good few feet - splattering at Scott's feet. 

Scott starts to laugh, head back, just in time for Gordon's second snowball to strike him directly in the neck. 

Gordon lets out a cackle that has Scott narrowing his eyes and pelting snowballs in their direction. Mom hurls them back as good as she gets, snowflakes catching in her dark hair, whilst Virgil works to replenish their fast dwindling stock. The enemy - his brothers, that is - put up a valiant effort, but burn through snowballs faster than John can produce them. Soon they are backed up against the wall of the old barn, and Gordon is breathless and exhilarated and joyful. 

"Surrender or die!" he bellows, holding a snowball in each hand.

"Gordon," Mom says sharply, and Gordon sighs.

"Fine. Surrender or suffer!"

Even as they raise their hands in unison, John's grin stretches his cheeks wide and Scott's eyes gleam with amusement. 

Gordon is fit to burst with all of the warm, happy feelings inside of him, coursing through his veins like the ocean currents. 

****

Once a truce has been declared and Gordon's Squad are pronounced the rightful champions, the five of them drift in groups to catch their breath. It’s hard work racing round in snow, especially when you’re practically wading in it, and Gordon flops to the ground to relish in his victory. 

Virgil, predictably, begins creating, rolling a ball of snow round and round till it's as tall as Gordon! Scott and Mom head inside, tracking slush pools in their wake. John plops down beside Gordon, and then leans all the way back.

“What are you doing?” Gordon asks. John is now thrashing his arms and legs through the snow enthusiastically, flattening it beneath his gangly limbs. 

“Snow angel! You try!”

Gordon shoots him a dubious look, but obeys, copying John’s movements. John helps him up, and they survey their handiwork. One small, wonky angel, one with huge wings and long legs. 

“Snow day, guys!!” Scott sprints back outside. “The bus got stuck coming up the hill!”

If Gordon’s being totally honest, he’d forgotten today was technically a school day at all, too caught up in the fun and frivolity of experiencing his first ever snow.

“Try to look a little less delighted, Gordon,” Mom laughs, back in the doorway with Alan in her arms. He’s cocooned in layer upon layer, eyes wide at the landscape around him. Scott heads to where Virgil is jabbing sticks into his snowman’s sides, and holds out a carrot. Beaming, Virgil takes it and turns to Gordon. 

“Wanna help make your first ever snowman?”

“Yes!” 

“You can do his nose! Here,” Virgil puts the carrot in Gordon’s hands, and lifts him beneath the arms so that he’s level with the snowman’s head. Grinning, Gordon pushes the carrot in, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. 

It’s the perfect day, and it’s barely 9:00am. No day will ever top this day. 

Unable to find the words to express all the happiness dancing little jigs in his chest, he grabs Scott and Virgil, clinging to them in a cuddle. John joins them, and before long, Mom and Alan are there too, Allie clutching at Gordon’s curls. 

It’s overwhelmingly wonderful: warming in a way that is less to do with physical heat and more to do with the absolute overflow of love in his heart. 

Later that day, they’ll stand around the kitchen, dripping over the tiles and arguing over who gets the first dibs of hot water. They’ll regroup in the lounge, Scott and Virgil curled together on one couch, John at their feet, Gordon tucked between Mom and Dad (who admits defeat when the car engine refuses to sputter into life) on the other. They’ll cradle Mom’s magical hot cocoa in thawing fingers - and Gordon’s will be more marshmallow than hot chocolate - and put on a movie they’ll be too busy talking through to pay much attention. Dad will light a fire, guiding Scott through creating the perfect log stack, and the crackling heat of it will lull them to sleep one at a time. 

It will be the perfect day.

[coconut-cluster]

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m a bad person.” 

Virgil spared him a glance over his phone - it was hard to see him anyway, with Virgil practically crouched on the park bench and Roman laying on the ground, tossing a baseball into the air to catch it again - and went back to scrolling idly. It sounded like something Patton would say, with his daily moral dilemmas. Virgil still never knew what to say to help. “Why’s that?” 

“Because sometimes I just hate her for no reason.” The baseball appeared in Virgil’s peripheral vision and disappeared just as quickly, but it stayed down when Roman went still, staring at the sky. “Sometimes she doesn’t even do anything wrong, but the sound of her talking or cleaning or whatever just makes me so mad, like I wanna lock myself in my room forever so I don’t have to deal with her. Isn’t that awful?”

Virgil actually put his phone down then, leaning forward to meet Roman’s eyes with a frown. “From what I’ve heard, your mom sucks, Princey. I don’t think it’s that awful.” 

Roman stared at him, his brow furrowed but eyes unreadable; finally, after a minute of looking like he wanted to say something on the tip of his tongue, he just looked back at the sky and held his baseball closer to his chest. “It’s not really that simple.” 

“Then I don’t think you being a bad person because you’re frustrated with your mom is that simple, either.” 

He was silent again. Virgil knew not to wait too long - sometimes Roman got to thinking, and it took up more of his time than he seemed to realize, so he’d just sit in silence for a while in that weird little headspace of his. Not that Virgil minded; he liked not having to fill the quiet with awkward small talk. He just looked out at the rest of the park while Roman stared at the sky, watching a group of college kids play some butchered version of soccer with a kid-sized ball covered in rainbow stickers. 

“She tries, sometimes,” Roman said suddenly, his voice small. “She sends me old pictures and talks to me about college and stuff, like she’s really trying to be there for me.” He picked the baseball up again, rolling it in his hand, but he didn’t focus on anything in the sky; he just stared, his gaze foggy as he frowned. “What if she does that more than I realize, and I’m just too critical of her to see it?” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” 

And there he was. Roman blinked himself back to attention, looking over at Virgil with a knit brow and squinted eyes. “What?”

“I don’t think some pictures and questions cancel out all the bullshit she gives you on, like, a daily basis,” Virgil said with a shrug. “I mean, sure, that stuff’s nice, but I think you can recognize the nice stuff without feeling bad for still being hurt by all the bad stuff.” 

Roman didn’t answer at first, and then he didn’t answer for a little bit - he mostly just blinked a lot - and after a good few more minutes with confusion clear on his face, Virgil sighed. 

“I’m not a psychologist, Ro,” he said gently, nudging Roman’s knee with the tip of his sneaker. “I don’t know the exact right answer here. But I do know that you’re like the cheesy high school version of a live-action Disney prince, and being a bad person isn’t really in that zone.” Roman gave a tiny smile. “You can’t blame yourself for being mad at her when it sounds like she’s done a bunch to be mad at before.”

The tiny smile faded as Roman rubbed his thumb along the stitching of his baseball, biting the inside of his cheek. “I guess so.” 

“And you wanna know what I think?” Roman hummed in response, and Virgil nudged his knee again to get his attention, raising his eyebrows when he got it. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself again, and to make it up to yourself,” he nodded his head to the side, where their bikes still leaned against a tree, “we should go get milkshakes.”

Roman finally cracked a smile - it was small, but it was there, and that was a good sign in Virgil’s book. “Is that your way of telling me you want a milkshake?”

“No,” Virgil said, mostly honest. “It’s my way of asking if you want a milkshake.”

Roman looked back at the sky one more time, squinting at it. “I do,” he said finally, definitively. He held a hand out, and Virgil took it, pulling him up; when he’d managed a sitting position, he held tighter onto Virgil’s hand and gave him that crooked smile that made Virgil’s face flush red. “Thanks, Virge.” 

“I don’t think I helped that much, I don’t have like, any upper body strength-” 

“Not that,” Roman rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t fall. “I mean thanks for listening. I appreciate having someone to talk to.” 

“Oh.” Virgil stood and helped Roman up with him - neither of them let go of the other’s hand when they were up. “No problem.” 

For a moment, they just stood there, hand in hand and staring at each other- until finally Roman gave another smile and said brightly, “So, milkshakes?”

Virgil smiled back. (He knew Roman’s home life was far from easy, but he was glad to be there when things got rough, even if he didn’t know what to say and mostly suggested milkshakes in times of distress - Roman didn’t seem to mind - so he’d keep being here, whenever he could.) “Let’s get going.”

[carriagelamp]

Book Review - Summer Summary 2020

I didn’t get around to doing an individual post for the books I read in June/July/August, so I decided to choose a dozen that I read over the summer... I’d separate the wheat from the chaff for you so to speak. Though like you’re about to find out, that doesn’t necessarily mean they were all good by any means...

Crave

My girlfriend got this for me to “tide me over until Midnight Sun”. Between you and me, I think she was taking the piss. Anyway, Crave is very... standard fare paranormal YA school romance with the added flare of being written by an adult erotica writer, meaning the rhythm and tone of this novel is fucking bonkers. If you want to read the novel without reading the novel, just take Twilight and the entire Vampire Academy series, shove them in a blend, and force down the sludge you get from that. Normal Average Girl Goes To Secret School In Alaska For Vampire, Werewolves and Dragons. That’s this book. It is so big and so so so bad. I finished it out of spite, please don’t do that to yourself. Unless you are really craving (hurr hurr) some top tier trashy paranormal romance, in which case... no judgment.

The Last Firehawk

The Last Firehawk is a Scholastic “Branches” series, written for beginning readers (grade 1-3ish, depending on the child’s reading level). It has short stories, big text, and awesome pictures on every page. Guys. I unironically am adoring this series. It’s simple and is introducing children to a number of classic elements in the fantasy quest genre, but it is so charming. Friends Tag and Skyla discover a firehawk egg, and species that is supposed to have disappeared long ago. When Blaze hatches from it, the three are tasked with going out and finding the magical ember stone which was hidden long ago by the firehawks and which could be used to defeat the evil vulture Thorn and his dark magic... I read the first two books to second graders who ate it up and read the next four books because I personally wanted to continue the series. If you have young readers in your life (or just want a fun kid adventure) then please try these they’re the literary equivalent of nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie.

Lupin III: World’s Most Wanted #3

All the kind people that still follow my tumblr and haven’t tried to murder me because of my Lupin obsession are not going to be surprised by this one. I finally read one of the manga for this series and honestly I’m delighted. Somehow even hornier than the show, but hilariously funny. I felt like I was reading a more adult version of Spy Vs Spy. It’s a bunch of short, individual bits/adventures with lots of visual gags and an artstyle that is really different and delightful.

River of Teeth / Taste of Marrow (American Hippo series)

I’ve talked about River of Teeth before, but I finally finished the American Hippo duology and need to sing its praise. This is an alternate history series composed of two novellas that explore the question What would have happened if the States had decided to import hippos as livestock...? Anyways, my pitch for you: queer hippo cowboys. That’s all it took for me to read it. You have a gay gunslinger who loves his hippo to death, a nonbinary explosives-expert / poisoner who is the main love interest, a fat con artist who spoils her hippo and is the only voice of reason in this entire series, and a latina mother-to-be who is the scariest assassin in the entire series and is obviously scheming. The four of them are brought together on a job to deal with the Mississippi’s feral hippo problem.

IT’S A QUEER HIPPO COWBOY HEIST NOVEL GUYS I DON’T KNOW WHY I’M STILL TALKING AND YOU HAVEN’T JUST GONE TO READ THIS YET.

Petals to the Metal (The Adventure Zone series)

The graphic novel adaptation to the McElroy family’s DND podcast The Adventure Zone. Most of you are probably aware of this? It’s a great adaptation, it hits all the important beats, shows off the characters really well, and still gets lots of good gags in even while condensing entire arcs into single book stories. This one is probably my favourite so far just because Petals to the Metal was one of my favourite arcs in the show... but you can also see how the art has improved and the chaos of the race is fun to see drawn out.

If you like The Adventure Zone but haven’t tried the graphic novels yet -- would recommend! If you’ve always wanted to listen to The Adventure Zone but don’t have time for such a long series or struggle to focus on podcasts then pick up the first book of this series (Here There Be Gerblins) and try reading it! It really is an enjoyable adaptation.

Pony to the Rescue (Pony Pals series)

I continued my April/May theme of reading old-school chapter book series to combat Covid Brain Fry, so I picked up a few Pony Pals books. I read these as a kid and always enjoy them -- there’s just something so appealing to a child about having a horse. It gives your child characters a level of independence and ability to explore that you wouldn’t get otherwise. These books definitely read young, but they were nostalgic to revisit.

Small Spaces

A really cool middle grade horror novel I picked up. Maybe it’s because I live around a lot of corn fields, but farm/scarecrow themed horror absolutely does it for me. One evening, after seeing a woman try to destroy a strange, old book, eleven year old Ollie doesn’t stop to think, instead stealing the book and running. That’s how she becomes wrapped up in the strange, sinister story of a cursed family and creature called the Smiling Man that seems to live out in the foggy fields. While unsettling, Ollie tries to remind herself that it’s just a story... but this becomes more challenging when her school bus breaks down one day out their own set of fields, and a fog is rolling in...

“Avoid large spaces. Stick to small.”

Snot Girl #1 - #2

A Canadian graphic novel series by the creator of the Scott Pilgrim series! I love his work so I decided to give Snotgirl a try, even though it’s not generally my genre. I’m glad I did! First book took a while for me to get into, but by the time I hit the second I was really wrapped up in the mystery and character development. Snotgirl is about Lottie, a self-consumed fashion blogger whose biggest struggles are dealing with her allergies, frustration with her fellow-blogger friends, and how entirely her self-esteem is tied to her “beauty” and how people view her. But everything shifts in strange and horrifying ways when Lottie starts taking a new allergy medication, meets a new friend... and then witnesses that girl’s death. Or does she?

Seriously, or does she? I have no idea, I need to read the third book. This book is full of intrigue, complicated relationships, murder (or not?), and a healthy dose of magical realism to keep you guessing. If you like slice-of-life, crime, and abstract reality then this series is world a try. Plus the art is gorgeous.

Summer Wars #1 - #2

I recently rewatched Summer Wars (still one of my favourite movies) and decided to read the two-book manga adaptation. It was a really neat little adaptation. The creator of the movie gave the writer free range to tweak things to fit better in a manga format, which means some movie elements were allowed to fade into the background, whereas other aspects were fulled into the forefront and fleshed out to a greater degree. It was very cool, it kept the same story but gave you new things to think about which I wasn’t expecting. Reading this as a stand alone works just fine, but honestly if you’ve never watched the movie Summer Wars you should give it a try! It’s a great mix of slice-of-life, sprawling family dynamics that I relate to a little too well, cyber adventures, and fantasy. Super feel good.

This One Summer

Okay, last graphic novel, I swear. This One Summer was... weird and intense. It’s a coming-of-age Canadian graphic novel that follows a pair of pre-teens who meet up like they do every year at their family’s summer cottages. You see them both in the awkward phases between childhood and growing up to become teenagers, as they’re confronted with things like maturity, friendship, self-esteem, family problems, and sexuality. A beautiful read, but probably the heaviest out of all the books on my list.

Wild Thornberrys Novelization

I rewatched The Wild Thornberrys movie with my girlfriend earlier this year, and decided I wanted to hunt down the chapter book novelization because I’m kind of a sucker for novelizations. Honestly, this was about what you would expect from the era. 90s/00s novelizations, especially young novelizations, are generally just a transcript of the movie without much thought or effort put into them to make them anything but. That’s what this was. It was fine, and it really let me revisualize the entire movie, but honestly you’re probably better off just rewatching the movie unless you also really deeply love The Wild Thornberrys.

The Willoughbys

I saw that Netflix had done a funky looking adaptation of The Willoughbys and I decided I needed to read the book first before watching the movie. This was a little bizarre, I’m still not sure how I feel about it. Over all, I think it was a net-positive experience. It’s an obvious satire on classic children’s novels, especially the likes of Mary Poppins (real Mary Poppins, not the Disney version) and while a little heavy-handed, it does a Series of Unfortunate Events vibe that redeems it. The story is about a group of horrible children (The Ruthless Willoughbys) who decide they are sick of their parents and would rather become Worth Orphans... and to do that, they’re going to have to dispose of their inconvenient parents, obviously. Conveniently their parents are also sick of having children and decide to do away with them as well. The Willoughbys sets up three (or four?) different subplots that are gradually woven together through a series of schemes and exploits. It’s definitely more ruthless (hurr hurr) than the Netflix version, which tried to make the children more sympathetic, and in some ways I think that’s a definite point in the novel’s favour. I’m not sure I would go out of my way to recommend it, but it was a fun romp if you want something short and off the wall (and a lot more fleshed out than the Netflix version).

[bubble-tae]

Bad Bait

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst/Lil Fluff/High School AU

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Your attempt to catfish cheaters goes awry when you get a message from a cute boy at school.

(A/N: This was meant to be a drabble response but I got a bit carried away! Thank you to @ddaengyoonmin​ for helping me edit and giving me the confidence to post and lovely @baepsaesbae​ for the request) 

reposted from old account

You didn’t mean to take it this far, I mean it only started as some dumb sleepover prank. For nearly 6 weeks, you had been pretending to be a girl from out of town online, catfishing different guys in your class to catch them cheating. You’d send screenshots to their girlfriends of them asking for nudes. It broke your heart to deliver news like this to these girls, but after a while it felt like an obligation. Everything was all fun and games until Taehyung fell into your lap. He was a senior who stumbled across your fake Instagram account when all his friends started following it. It all started innocently enough, a few likes, a couple heart eyes on some pics (that were of some pretty model), but before you knew it, he had slipped into your dms.

You had seen him around school before, hell, no one could mistake that gorgeous laugh for anyone but him. He wasn’t popular, but he seemed to be part of almost every group and club. Taehyung was in theater, played soccer, and even is the Vice President of the art club. He would have been a shoe in for Homecoming King earlier that year if it hadn’t gone to Kim Seokjin (now he was popular, and cheating on the Homecoming Queen). Taehyung was known, that was for sure, and anyone that met him had to of had the biggest crush on him. When he first messaged you that simple “hey”, you ignored it. As far as you knew he wasn’t dating anyone so there really was no need to talk to him at all, but one bored Saturday night, you figured why the hell not.

It wasn’t anything for a while, he seemed boring and just like all the other guys that found their way to your account, but things slowly picked up around a week later when he started his good morning messages. Soon he was sending you pictures with a big grin and a peace sign and asking all about you; what you like to do for fun, what job you wanted, even little things like what your favorite candy was. Through this, you got to know him too. Taehyung secretly loved to sing, he wanted to be a freelance artist, and how much he loved brownies.

“He doesn’t even know you exist.” Your best friend said from the driver seat of her car. You had both just pulled up to school, the foggy Monday air clouding up the parking lot.

“What’s it matter anyways?” you asked, pulling down the mirror to fix your hair. Your best friend cackled next to you.

“The matter is that you like him, and he likes her.” They pointed at your phone in the cup holder. You closed the mirror and rolled your eyes.

“I don’t like him.” just as you said this your phone chimed, but your friend picked it up faster than you could. They opened your phone, a picture of Taehyung taking over the screen. He was posing with a little fluffy dog, a fake pouty look on his face. Your friend read the message out mockingly.

“ ‘Baby boy cried the whole time I was getting ready, guess he doesn’t want me to go to school. Hope you are having a better morning than I am beautiful.’ Fuck, I’d cry for him to stay too if my owner looked like that.” Your friend held down the picture with their thumb, saving it as your lock screen. You leaned over and snatched it back from their hands.

“He’s just being nice!” you proclaimed.

“Yeah, sure,” your friend said, “and pigs can fly.”

“Wasn’t your mom on an airplane last week?” you joked. They hit your side as the bell rang. “Not funny.” You got out of the car and started to make your way to class, Taehyung’s morning message forgotten thanks to your first period calculus exam.

* * *

It was lunch time, and though you were desperately craving the cafeteria chicken nuggets, you knew you had to finish up some last minute notes that were due today. You headed to the library, where you found it mostly empty safe for a few studious peers. There was an empty table near the back, so you pulled out a chair and took your book out from your bag. With earbuds in, you fell into your own little world, taking notes on the 15th century Tudor period. It wasn’t long before you were interrupted by someone grazing the back side of your seat trying to reach a book on the shelf behind you. You were about to give them a dirty look when you turned around, but you were taken back by a face you had never seen this close before.

“Sorry.” Taehyung muttered with a smile, book under arm. You didn’t say anything, your mouth agape as you froze in the moment. He was prettier in person, and when he pushed his curly brown hair back and made his way to the front of the table, you swore your heart stopped beating. He pointed to the chair just across from you. “This seat taken.”

“No.” you finally croaked out, taking your earbuds out. There was no reason to be this nervous, he was just a person you told yourself. He sat down in the chair and open the book, cover facing you. The front read “1984”. He peeked over the top of the book, and that’s when you realized you were staring. Taehyung brought the book down to his lap.

“Sorry if I disrupted your flow.” he said.

“Oh no, it was kind of boring anyways.” That was sort of a lie, part of you actually enjoyed getting wrapped up in your work, but it could wait. “What are you reading?”. You knew what he was reading, in fact you read it just last month, but you felt an insatiable need to keep talking to him. His voice was different than you thought, more sultry and smooth.

“1984, I guess it’s about a society living under constant surveillance.”

“Aren’t we already?” you quipped. He laughed and blush spread across your cheeks.  

“I guess so.” he said. “It was recommended to me.”

‘Yeah, by me.’ You thought. “You going to check it out?”

“I don’t know, I’m not really much of a reader.”

“Yeah you’ve told me.” the words left your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. He put the book down, smile disappearing as he leaned back in his chair. You bit your lip, trying to think of some way out of this.

“What? Do we know each other?” he finally asked, brows furrowed down but eyes still cautious as he scanned your face more intensely.

“Freshman year. English.” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t ask what teacher you had. Your legs were bouncing under the table, and you only hoped that he didn’t notice how your body shook.

“But…” he started, trying to remember if he has ever met you. “I’ve never told you that before.”

“Must have been someone else then.” you spat out quickly, standing up and shoving your things in your bag. “Gotta run, nice chat.” He stood up too, confused from the change in the environment. You sling your bag over your shoulder, but as you start to leave you trip slightly on the leg of the table, and your phone falls to the ground. It lands screen up, and if this situation couldn’t get any worse, it turns on, displaying the picture Taehyung took that morning. He stopped in his tracks and stared down at your phone.

“Am I your lock screen?” he asked, almost disgusted. You pick your phone off the ground quickly.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” The two of you eyed each other uncomfortably in the silent library. No one had even noticed that anything strange was going on. Taehyung looked around the library and then leaned in slightly.

“Are you stalking me?” he whispered.

“Taehyung, let me explain” you started to say before he cut you off.

“Oh my god, you’re stalking me!” he said a little louder and angrier this time. A kid at a nearby table looked up for a moment before returning to his laptop.

“Will you shut up?” you whisper shouted. “I’m not stalking you.”

“Then what the fuck is that?” he pointed to your phone. You let out a sigh and rubbed at your temples. ‘This is a fucking disaster.’ you wanted to say.  

“You sent it to me this morning, my friend put it as my lock screen as a joke.” You could tell he didn’t believe you, why would he, he had never spoken to you before, let alone sent a picture with the intent of you seeing it.

“I didn’t send you that.”

“Well, you sort of did.” you opened your phone and pulled out the messages, his text from this morning displayed on your screen.

“How did you get her messages?” he asked, taking the phone from your hands to inspect it further.

“They are my messages.” he looked back up at you still confused. There was only one way he was going to understand this. “She’s not real.” Taehyung’s face fell as he looked down at the phone again, the words hitting him slowly.

“What?” he said, not really asking.

“Taehyung…” you said, taking a step forward. He took one back.

“What’s your real name?”

“Y/N.” you answered.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Y/N?” he said, hurt dripping over ever word. He put your phone down on the table and grabbed his stuff.

“I can explain!” you tried, the people in the room watching the two of you. He turned around as he started to leave, eyes just a little bit glossy.

“Don’t talk to me, creep.” he hissed before storming out of the library, leaving you standing alone with all eyes on you.

* * *

You probably couldn’t fix it, and you didn’t really intend to, but you at least wanted to try and make it hurt less. Hurt less for him or you, that you didn’t know. There you stood at his front door, plate of brownies in hand, trying to muck up the courage to ring the doorbell. This was much harder than hiding behind your phone. Your hand lifted to the doorbell, but you heard the lock click out of place before the door opened. Taehyung was in the doorway, a displeased look on his face.

“You’ve been standing here for five minutes, I figured I’d tell you to get lost myself.” He picked at his fingernails as if he didn’t care. It stung a little, to have him suddenly be so cold to you, but you knew you deserved it.

“At least take the brownies.” you held the plate in front of them. He squinted his eyes at the brownies, then at you.

“They aren’t poisoned, are they?” he took the plate from your hands, still suspicious.

“No, but they are fudge brownies” his favorite kind. He contemplated something for a minute before opening the front door wider and stepping to one side.

“You have until I finish the brownies to explain.” you thought that maybe he was kidding, but when you both were inside, he motioned for you sit on the couch next to him as he started to stuff his face.

“I know how this looks from your end.” you began, “I didn’t intend on leading you to believe I was this other person. The account wasn’t even made for you, but kind of to catch this one guy who was cheating. One guy turned into two, and before I knew it, it kind of just became my thing.” Taehyung shoved a second brownie in his mouth and crumbs dribbled down his chin and onto his jeans, which he brushed onto the floor, some of them landing on the tops of your shoes.  

You tried to continue but Taehyung shoved a third brownie into his mouth before he finished chewing the second. “Dude, you’re going to choke.” you said to him. He stopped chewing suddenly, looking at you with cheeks full. He motioned with his hands for you to keep talking.

“Anyways,” you shook your head in disbelief. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I never meant for you to get tangled up in all this mess. I wasn’t faking anything, everything I said came from me, Y/N. If you wanna be friends or something, that’s great, but if you want to pretend I never existed, I understand.” The last part hurt to say, but you knew you would have to respect his boundaries. Taehyung finally finished chewing what was in his mouth, swallowing hard as leaned back into the couch.

“Wow,” he nodded to himself, “so you’re The Fisherman?”

“The what?”

“The one who’s been catching all the cheaters. Catfish turned into Fisherman, how about that?” he wiped some of the remaining crumbs from his pants and contemplated grabbing another brownie.

“I guess so? I didn’t know I had another identity.”

“You’re like a modern day Robin Hood.” he leaned onto his knees and getting closer to you. “I knew it.” You let out a laugh at that. Of course he didn’t know.

“So you’re not upset?” you questioned.

“Oh no, I’m fucking pissed.” he placed a hand on your knee, “but I’m also impressed.” You were taken back by his words. He saw the expression on your face and elaborated.

“You caught 6 different dudes cheating on their girlfriends and still no one knows it’s you. That takes a genius.”

“It’s actually 9.” you corrected. He threw his hands air up in the air in disbelief.

“That’s amazing!” he shouted. “I think I like you more than the girl in the screen.” His smile was lazy and genuine and his outright honesty made your face burn. He scooted just an inch closer, a little hesitantly. “So, everything we talked about was really you?” You recognized for the first time how soft his features were in person, eyes glittering with curiosity. His lips were slightly parted, and you wished to know how they felt. You blinked away the thought, almost embarrassed for having it.

“It was always me.” He laughed at your cheesy line and pinched your cheeks, pulling at them.

“You’re not wearing a mask, are you?” he joked. You pulled his hand away, keeping it in yours as it fell into your lap.

“No more surprises.”

“Don’t I get a chance to surprise you?” he asked, licking his lips and moving in closer. You felt your heart beat faster until it was in your throat, and time slowed. You cursed your sweaty palms and quivering lip, Taehyung’s eyes half closed as he was only inches from your face. You closed your eyes and waited for him to kiss you. His lips tickled against yours, so close but not yet touching, before he averted his mouth upward to plant a kiss on your nose. He pulled away with a wide smirk, and you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“That’s not fair.” you breathed out. He pulled your hand into his lap to play with your fingers.

“I know.” he said before biting his lip and looking back up at with bashful eyes. Taehyung was a tease, but you knew that you couldn’t wait for for more of his surprises.

[coffeefairy]

Writer’s Month August 2020 - Day 2

Second day running of the challenge, go me!

Day 2, Quarantine

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Ship: Sheith

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Keith is stuck in the infirmary with the flu. Shiro visits to hear why Keith landed himself in detention - again - especially since he knows it somehow involved his name...

Excerpt: Keith had never liked Adam. He was too by-the-book, too boring, too uptight, but right now he’d pay to have him back in Shiro’s life. He made Shiro happy and that was all Keith had ever really wanted. And, he provided a buffer, a “no trespassing” sign on Shiro that helped with tempering his wish to reach out, to confess to everything that boiled under his breastbone. Now that buffer was gone and he’d have to watch Shiro, kindly, obliviously, reject him just for who he was, not for who he already had

Tags: Hurt/comfort, one-sided pre-Sheith from Keith’s side. Note Keith is underage but that Nothing Happens - because he’s underage.

Quarantine

Keith was entering his third day of having the flu and he was ready for death to take him. Not because of the flu, but because of the boredom. Confined to the Infirmary at the Garrison to not “spread those germs around, Mr Kogane”, he was utterly bored. There was a TV but it had two channels and they both showed re-runs. He couldn’t read because he kept distracting himself sniffling and his foggy brain wouldn’t let him study. The only thing that broke the tedium was mealtimes and the food was so bad he might starve before the boredom killed him. At least his quarantine counted towards his detention time.

The door at the end of the room swung open and Keith spotted Shiro. Or, Captain Shirogane as he was whenever other teachers or students were around. Shiro had been the one who got Keith to apply to the Garrison, who encouraged him to try out for the pilot program. The one who’d helped him fill in the scholarship applications and who had to date been the only person in Keith’s life who had never once let him down.

He was older than Keith by five years and at twenty-two he was the poster boy for what the Garrison wanted to showcase. Ace pilot, squeaky clean record, top grades. In addition he had the looks, the personality and the charisma for a stellar career in the Garrison Forces. If Keith hadn’t loved Shiro from the bottom of his heart, he probably would have hated him. But he knew Shiro cared for nothing but the flying, not really. It was the love of his life and Keith could wholeheartedly understand. Flying, to both of them, was freedom. 

Glad that he for once had a good excuse for the rosy cheeks he developed whenever Shiro was around, he allowed himself to soak in the picture he made. He’d finished for the day but his uniform was as pristine as it always was. He filled it out like he’d been made to wear it, all wide shoulders and narrow hips. It was a chest to waist ratio that sometimes made Keith’s stomach drop and leave a dark, echoing, slippery hollowness of need inside him. Just like his height, the sight of his hands and the soft hair at the nape of his neck did. 

“Hey, Keith.”

Not to mention his voice. 

Keith, who had had enough spare time - and then some - to prepare in case anyone (he’d only hoped Shiro would) visited, held up the legal pad he’d been doodling on. On the page he’d written in capitals:

Lost voice, can’t speak.

“Oh, so the conversation will be just as normal then,” Shiro joked. 

Keith sent him a rude gesture and the older man laughed. It made something soft and squidgy move in his chest to hear it. 

With a sigh, he sat down on the uncomfortable chair next to Keith’s bed, peered at him.

“You look good.” 

Keith knew what that meant but he bent his head over the pad anyway to let his hair shield his warm face. 

“You looked a lot paler last time I saw you.”

Keith frowned in askance. 

“I was here two days ago. You were asleep.”

Oh great. He’d probably slept with his mouth open, drooling on the pillow.

“You look younger when you’re asleep. Less angry.”

I’m not angry, Keith scribbled. 

Obediently, Shiro read it. 

“No?” He raised an eyebrow. “Then why did I hear about you getting into a fight with McClaine in Flight Sims?”

Keith had hoped talk of that particular scene would not make it to Shiro’s ears. 

McClaine’s an idiot, he wrote. Shiro leaned forward to read it and though he didn’t have his sense of smell, Keith could swear he sensed the scent of laundry powder, after shave and the hint of motor oil and gasoline that came from riding his hoverbike. A smell so familiar to him it haunted his dreams. Including the waking ones.

He could swear he saw a twitch to Shiro’s (unfairly attractive) lips before he leaned back.

“Keith, he’s on your team. You need to find a way to get along. Teamwork is the cornerstone of the Garrison philosophy.”

The Garrison philosphy could fuck itself for all Keith cared, but he didn’t like when Shiro’s voice took on that tone. Not like he was disappointed, or tired of his behaviour but...softly chiding. All Keith wanted was to hear Shiro say good things about him, praise him. Not that he’d ever let the older man know that. 

“Fine,” Shiro sighed lightly when Keith didn’t reply. “What did McClaine do?”

Keith stiffened. There was no way he was telling Shiro. Crossing his arms, he rested back against the pillows.

“I spoke to Captain Parilla about it. He says he heard my name.”

Oh, shit. 

Keith had no issue telling Shiro that McClaine was a bumbling moron who should learn to keep his tongue behind his teeth if he wanted to keep them in that dumb face of his. But he didn’t want to tell him why he’d had to punch him for it this time.

It was common knowledge at the school that Captain Shirogane and his boyfriend were breaking up. In such a small place, gossip was rife and unfortunately this week the hot topic had been the end of the match of two of the teachers. 

Keith had overheard some girl talking about it in the cafeteria, asking her friend excitedly “if she’d heard” and an almost breathless “heard what” had followed. 

“I heard from Maggie whose sister has the late watch that Captain Tremaine and Shiro had a shouting match that ended with them breaking up and Captain Tremaine driving away at like one in the morning. He hasn’t come back yet.”

Keith had stilled but hearing it, he put his tray down and spun on his heel. Unseeingly he turned right and headed down the hallway towards the officers’ quarters. Captain Tremaine, or Adam as Shiro called him, had left Shiro? He knew from Shiro, despite him glossing over the details, that they had been fighting but breaking up? Knowing how seriously his friend took commitment he could only guess how he was feeling now.

He’d gotten as far as Shiro’s door, lifted his hand to knock. Imagined what he might find inside. He hesitated. Why would Shiro want to see him now? What comfort could Keith offer? He was prickly, contrary, awkward. He had to be the last person who could be of any help right now. 

Comfort Shiro? Don’t kid yourself, Kogane, you’re his charity project. 

With this thought ringing in his head he had walked away. He got to his room and crawled into bed, flinging an arm over his eyes. Shiro was the one going through a breakup, why the hell did he himself have tears in his eyes? Despite the question he knew. He knew that everything inside him for Shiro was a tangled mess.

He might have had dark dreams about Shiro leaving Adam but it had never made him sad. He had just realized he could have Keith and he and the other instructor had parted, amicably. 

He was such a child. 

Shiro would always take a breakup seriously, would think he was the one to fail. The kind of person who would try and keep trying to make the other happy. He would always try his best and when it wasn’t enough it would break his heart. 

Keith rolled over on his side, drawing his knees to his chest. It was aching with what he knew would be killing Shiro. 

It was weaved in with the misery that to Shiro, Keith would never be anything more than a kid. They were friends, but with the years between them it would be a long time before they could even be friends on equal footing. Shiro was his teacher, even if they waited a decade, he would still have been Keith’s teacher. And even if they did, if they waited, if Shiro would eventually see him as an adult or an equal, why would he ever want Keith? He was a skinny, awkward reject with a bad haircut and a worse attitude and Shiro deserved… everything. Better than Keith Kogane could ever be. 

And still his traitorous heart wouldn’t just take the defeat and leave him in peace. It had to light up in hope every time Shiro smiled at him in the way that made the corners of his eyes crease, or when he put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, or when he told him he’d done a good job in that deep voice. It sang, lifted, soared and hoped. 

Keith had never liked Adam. He was too by-the-book, too boring, too uptight, but right now he’d pay to have him back in Shiro’s life. He made Shiro happy and that was all Keith had ever really wanted. And, he provided a buffer, a “no trespassing” sign on Shiro that helped with tempering his wish to reach out, to confess to everything that boiled under his breastbone. Now that buffer was gone and he’d have to watch Shiro, kindly, obliviously, reject him just for who he was, not for who he already had.

Still struggling with the decision if he should go see Shiro or not the day after, he’d been flying in Flight Sims on autopilot when McClaine had to open his big mouth.

“You hear Shiro’s boyfriend broke up with him? And no one’s seen Shiro for days.”

“That’s Captain Shirogane to you,” Keith said quietly.

“Whatever, Kogane. I wonder if Shirogane’s out for the count? He looks all badass but he must be a giant softie if he can’t leave his room for three days after some guy leaves.”

“Lance…” Hunk, the large engineer on their team said, clearly trying to defuse the situation. 

“What Hunk? I’m just saying he might talk tough but really, he’s just a big p-”

Keith flew up, the screen in front of him showing the stars spiralling and an explosion “MISSION FAILURE” flashing in red letters. But he didn’t care. In one move he was up, grabbing McClaine by the collar, hauling him to his feet and pinning him to the wall. 

“Shut the fuck up, McClaine! Just because you blame Captain Shirogane for not making you pilot when your scores are way too low doesn’t mean you can talk shit about him behind his back!”

“Get off me, Kogane, I can say whatever I like!”

“Guys…” Hunk tried to pull them apart but Keith just shook it off. 

“What, you gonna comfort him, Kogane? Hold his hand, dry his tears, tell him everything will get better?”

Keith growled.

Lance’s eyes widened and something gleeful slipped into his gaze.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You wanna bang Shirogane?”

His fist connected with the boy’s goading smile and in a flurry of limbs they fell to the floor, Keith kicking, punching, tearing at the other boy. 

Shiro spoke again, returning him to the present. 

“Why were you fighting, Keith?”

Keith scribbled.

McClaine was being a dick.

Shiro’s eyes gentled in a way that made Keith feel small. 

“Cadet McClaine insulted me, is that it?”

Apparently Keith’s refusal to answer spoke volumes. 

“Keith, I…” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you would stand up for me, whatever McClaine said, but you need to find a way of controlling your temper. Punching someone you don’t agree with is going to cost you something more than detention one day. And I would hate to see that. You have too much talent, Keith, too much going for you.”

Keith hadn’t had a lot of people praising him in his life. He had no idea how to deal with it and he twisted the covers in his hands.

With a sigh, he then reached for the pen.

I’ll stop fighting him...if he stops being a dick.

Shiro chuckled, tenderness creasing the corners of his eyes. 

Damn. Keith couldn’t deal with that look, it made him want to both curl up and bask, and hide under the covers like a child. It made his heart race and his throat slam shut.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Shiro tilted his head. “Lance goads you because he’s jealous.”

It was clear he didn’t need a pad to convey his disbelief in the notion.

“Keith, Lance has wanted to come to the Garrison since he was five. He’s dreamed of being an ace pilot, of being at the top of his class. He’s worked really hard for it. Then he meets you and...you know all these things instinctively that he has had to learn. You fly like you were born to do it, you’re crushing every flying record we have and you do it without looking like you’re even trying.”

For you, Keith wanted to tell Shiro and was glad his voice wouldn’t let the incriminating words slip out. He only ever cared about impressing Shiro, about making him proud, of...proving himself. Proving Shiro hadn’t been wrong to put his trust in him. 

“You just have everything that Lance wants.”

Keith crossed his arms over his chest, stared hard at the floor on the other side of the bed, away from Shiro and his gentle voice.

“So just think about that before you punch him the next time.”

At this, Keith couldn’t help the twitch of a smile. Shiro did know him really well. He didn’t decree, or order, or use the authority he clearly had over Keith. He just explained, and asked that Keith thought about it. 

To distract himself from the growing tenderness in his throat, Keith lifted his pen. Hesitated. Glanced at Shiro.

“Go on, ask what you want to ask.”

Keith wondered how to phrase it. Then he decided and wrote,

How’s Adam?

Shiro read, a flash of something broken in his eyes.

“You heard, huh?”

Keith nodded. Then waited. He knew Shiro understood what he was really asking. If he’d asked “how are you?” Shiro would have responded “fine” because that’s what he demanded of himself to always be for others. Asking about Adam made it more roundabout, gave Shiro an out if he didn’t want to talk about it but also let him know Keith knew about the breakup. 

A sigh escaped the older man. He rubbed his hands over his face and let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Keith kicked himself for getting distracted by how the column of his throat looked, bared and inviting. 

“I...I don’t think he’s doing so well.”

Keith nodded, kept fiddling with the covers. 

“It’s hard,” Shiro continued and Keith couldn’t believe he was trusted to hear this. He swore to himself whatever Shiro told him, he’d take to his grave. “He’s not...wrong, or not completely wrong but I…”

Searching his memory he tried to make sense of this as an argument he could have heard about. He couldn’t think of anything. Apparently Shiro realized too, and backtracked.

“There’s a new mission. I can’t talk about it, really, but it’s deep space, Keith. Real flying, for months.”

Fear for missing Shiro like he would miss a limb twisted the joy he felt for him. Decisively he strangled the sensation. It was Shiro’s dream. 

“And it’s...it’s my last chance. With my health, this will be the last opportunity for me to ever go into space.”

He knew that too. Knew the unfairness of Shiro’s life, the one part of his physical form that wasn’t perfect. The disease that lay dormant under his skin, that would one day rob him of all the things that made him a legendary pilot. 

“Adam...Adam thinks I’m foolish. That I should stay back, not take any chances. Settle for a shorter mission, something easier.”

Every line of Shiro’s face and shoulders screamed out his pain. Keith reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. The older man’s head dropped. His shoulder shook under his fingers and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Shiro, hold him, tell him he deserved better, deserved everything. 

One handed, he managed to write.

Shiro, hearing the pen against the paper, looked up. He hadn’t been crying but his eyes were glassy.

You need to go

It’s your dream

A shudder travelled through him. Gratitude seeped into his eyes and Keith’s throat started squeezing shut.

“Thanks, Keith.”

He took his hand and squeezed.

[neovisioned]

[09:54 pm] richkid!ten, angry sex.

When richkid!ten finally understands his feelings for you, he swears he hates himself more than he hates you. 

Both hands grip his ivory bathroom sink, knuckles turning as white as the material, lost eyes staring at himself in his large, foggy mirror. Fresh out of the shower, the hot water running down his skin didn’t help his headache at all, it seemed it even made him think and overthink more. 

One hand pushed his bleached hair back, the smallest of things managed to anger him even more, small locks drenched in water falling in front of his piercing eyes. 

Everything reminded him of you, he couldn’t step foot in his room without having the lingering perfume of the fragrance you wore today, richkid!ten couldn’t even look at his desk without having the almost too realistic picture of your sitting, crosslegged on his chair. 

A sigh left richkid!ten’s reddish lips, he had been bitting them for too long, his bottom lip tasted of blood and he even blamed in on you. A few moments ago, you two were sitting there, him helping you with math, you helping him with english. 

It isn’t necessary to say that this, wasn’t his idea. In fact, it was your math teacher’s idea, since your grades were slowly dropping and his weren’t the best in english yet, poor teacher thought he was doing a great thing by pairing the both of you for mutual tutoring. 

Needless to say, it started as awkward as you could imagine. The tension was almost embarable in the library and you even feared pointing richkid!ten’s mistakes, not wanting him to snap at you.

Really, you didn’t know why richkid!ten hated you so much. It was known in the school that two sides existed, the rich kids from the nearby, wealthy and privilaged neighbourhood, and the more middle classed kids. You were from the second named, those who had parents working as hard as they could to pay for the school, those who couldn’t let their parents down. 

In the back of your head, you know he only hates you because of his education, his surroundings, and in the back of richkid!ten’s head, he knows it too. 

The reasons why he hates you are so, so superficial, but he doesn’t dare question his education at first, he’d rather stay sheltered in his gold tinted reality. He doesn’t want to think over his feelings, think about how he doesn’t want to love you because he doesn’t want to put you through his family’s prejudices. Masking his love as hatred is so, so much easier.

But it seems like even without intending to, richkid!ten truly can't get away from you. A groan rambles in his chest, laying on his satin sheets, lay your textbook your forget.

It's the last straw for richkid!ten, his sports car park in your modest neighbourhood, and no one knows what's about to happen in your small student appartement.

Screamed travel easily through your paper thin walls, you're sure your neighbours are wonder who you're arguing with, and what type of argument this is.

"Are you really that fucking shallow ?", you asked, and richkid!ten's gold reality suddenly turns red. He was sheltering himself but wasn't seeing how this was all hurting you yet.

But if he was seeing red, you were seeing a hundred more shades. Richkid!ten had the audacity to come to your house in his overpriced car, almost throw you book at you and it was your time to snap. You've been dying to know exactly why he hated you, to which he seemed to get stiff. He wouldn't tell you for almost an hour, before finally telling you you two weren't in the same class.

"Your just about image and reputation.", you spat out, but this time, it was spoken against his swollen lips. Up and down, your body was moving on top of his own, like you were trying to prove a point, trying to prove how you two were, at the end, only humans with needs and messed up feeling.

"Shut the fuck up.", richkid!ten almost groaned, his voice almost foreign to you as his hand creeped up, long fingers wrapping around your throat. In seconds, your oxygen got gradually cut down, like a warning. But who were you to take warnings from richkid!ten, an arrogant smile stretching your lips, it was your turn.

"You think you're fucking smart, uh ?", he asked, hips snapping up to meet your own in a hard thrust, "You think you know it all ?"

Eyes closed, it took a few moments for you to compose yourself, before you could halfway open them, dead set on his own, lust gazed eyes.

"Yeah, I know it all.", you started, smile crowing larger as he gasped after your clenched around him. "You fucking love me.", you moaned out.

[yandere-society]

Yandere! JK when you want to get a divorce? Thank you so much!

To Annual an Annulment

Warnings; Yandere/husband Jungkook, blackmail, personality switch

Admin/writer; Chinkbihh

Words; 1.9k

“I love you so much that nothing can matter to me- not even you...Only my love- not your answer.  Not even your indifference.”

The pounding of your racing heart echoed within your own ear drums.  

The sound like a rythameric drum leading up to a battle, a war cry suited for you and your nerves at the moment.  

Said nervous system was overworked, causing you to leak cold sweat and stress induced quivers.  Faintly, you could also hear the slight rustle of papers that were in your hand. Your shaky state having caused the noise to join your pounding heart.  

Out of a nervous tick, you bit your lip and let the weight of the situation rest upon your meager shoulders.  To really let the mass crush you ever so gently…

Yet, you fought back the urge to run away with every ounce of willpower you had left.

This was going to be the toughest part.  

But you couldn’t back down now.

Too much was on the line.

An image of what your life would be like if you just continued to be a doormat flashed in your mind’s eye for a second.  The prediction causing you to cringe as it depicted the future as not bright at all. Despite wanting to curl into bed and cry, you reminded yourself that you had to push through for the sake of your own wellbeing.  

Survival instincts began to kick in.

With a new spark of determination, you glared at the strong wood of the mahogany door.  You knew what laid behind it, but you still rattled a knock against it nonetheless.

“Come in.”  His dulcet voice called out, a tad muffled from the barrier between you two.

You took a deep breath and opened the door to step into his office.

And what an office it was.

It was crisp and modern with greys and blacks.  Very minimalist decoration besides the small longue sofa to the left of the room and the fireplace in front of it. Behind the marble desk (where he sat) was one glass wall, depicting the marvelous city skyline and the wealth of the man who called this his office.  

The quiet clicking of fingers on a keyboard rang quietly within the four walls.  

You took a deep breath.

And stepped further into the lion’s den.  

The typing stopped as your husband looked up from the screen of his computer to see who the visitor was.  

His face was cold and sharp until he identified who you were.  

“Baby! Did you come to get lunch with me? Cindy didn’t tell me you were here.  I should really fire her, you know?” Jungkook’s called out excitedly as his face melted into an expression that he only revealed around you; loved-sick and dazed.  

Doe eyes filled with sugary molasses as they adored you with a foggy film over the orbs.  His impish nose scrunched up cutely at you like one would do with a baby when cooing at them.  Those pink lips of his puckered up while his face melted into a softer and more cherub shape as he gazed up at you.

Normally, any wife would be grateful for their husbands to still look at them like that.

But it only succeeded in striking fear into your heart.  

He was infatuated with you.  

And there was no way that he was going to let you go without a fight of some sort.  

You nervously shifted your weight from one foot to another as you tried to avoid his eyeline.  Jungkook was very observant when matters came to you and if he sensed a problem before you did….god have mercy.

“Um, a-actually I wanted to talk.”  You told him. Jungkook’s scrunched his brows in slight confusion at what could possibly be bothering the love of his life.  He waited on you hand and foot, it was his job to make sure nothing bothered you. He patted his lap in motion for you to sit on it, but you quietly took one of the seats in front of his desk; pretending you didn’t notice the anger tick of his tongue pushing against his cheek.  

“What is it love?”  

Like ripping off a band-aid, you decided that quick and ruthless was the best strategy.  

“I need you to sign these divorce papers.”  

The once powerful and confident posture of the CEO crumpled before your very eyes.  His broad shoulders slackened as his face dropped any emotion that wasn’t directly related to devastation.  Jaw dropped, his eyes bore into yours with the depression of a suicidal maniac who lost everything.

The silence hung in the air for a moment, each passing second causing the apprehension to grow.

“W-what?” His eyes matched his voice, watery and broken.  His face looked like the reaction to someone telling him that world war three had finally broke out.  In this case, these two things were equal causes for ruin in his book. Although losing you was a bit more hellish to him.

Not being able to bring yourself to words, you simply stood up and plopped the papers onto the desk before him.  Broken from his frozen trance, he hurriedly snatched the papers into his hold and furiously ran over each line. As if he suspected that it wasn’t real or that you were trying to prank him in some awful way.  That a ‘just kidding!’ was hiding somewhere in the fine print.

His eyes reached the bottom of the paper where his signature was needed, but instead of grabbing a pen and fulfilling the duty, he just looked back up at you in neck-breaking speed.  

“Are you serious?”  

You nodded.  

In a rush of movement that was almost too fast for your eyes to process, Jungkook ran around the desk and got onto his knees before you.  Your clammy hands were now put into his as he craned his neck to look back up at you. Tears were trailing down his face and hitting the floor, causing a beginning stages of a puddle to form underneath you two.  

“Baby, you’re not thinking straight.  We can talk about this. Couples have obstacles all the time, that doesn’t mean we have to give up when we face another one.  It’s just a rough patch but we’ll fight our way through it. I’ll die without you, can’t you see?!” He was blubbering like a fool as the thoughts and pleads seem to come to his head at more efficiency than they could leave his mouth.  

“Jungkook...this marriage isn’t healthy.”  You tried to be the voice of reason. But this seemed to trigger another chorus of moans and groans as a man who had everything continued break down in front of you.  

“Why?!  At least tell me why?”  He demanded, his face beginning to burn with frustration.  

You held back your own annoyance.  You thought it was self-explanatory, but Jungkook had tunnel vision with you.  He only saw you and nothing else, something you had to learn the hard way whilst in the relationship.  Nonetheless, you wanted to voice your reason for leaving, if only for your own conscious when looking back at this day.

“Jungkook, you cannot try to limit my communication with my friends and family while expecting me to be okay with it.  That’s manipulation. That’s you trying to isolate me. And I don’t want a husband who does that.”

Another moment of silence.

Still on his knees, Jungkook bowed his head and obstructed your view of his face.  The cries had stopped as he dropped your hands from his hold.

Then...a sound.

A dry chuckle deep from within his chest.

Your eyes widened in fear as you took a step back in horror.  

He had switched.

Jungkook slowly got up to his feet, head still bowed as he brushed off the imaginary dust from his slacks.  When he looked up to face you, the traces of a pathetic man were nowhere to be seen. The only evidence was perhaps the slight puffiness and redness of his eyes, tears long gone and replaced with a wicked smile.  He quirked a brow at you and shows off his pearly whites.

“Fair enough then.”  He rumbled, before walking back to the other side of his desk.  

You watched with suspicion as he grabbed a pen and leaned over the paper to inspect it a bit more closely.  There was not way that it was going to be this easy...

Was he really going to sign it?  

“Who is your lawyer?”  Jungkook asked, eyes not leaving the legal form.  

The question struck you as odd but you supposed it was somewhat relevant in the divorce setting.  You licked your lips and responded, “Anthony Platt.”

He uncapped the pen.  “Never heard of him before.”  

The small talk was odd enough to cause more tension.  Something wasn’t right.

“He’s a small time lawyer.”  You lamely responded. You couldn’t afford a high class one because you had to go out of your own pocket to hire one.  How could you divorce a husband by a hiring a lawyer with his own money?

“I suppose this is his information right here?”  He pointed to a section on the paper. You just shrugged, obviously your lawyer formed the documents so his name and number would be in there somewhere….

Jungkook finally put pen to paper.  

Except it wasn’t on the divorce papers.  

It was on a notepad.  

You stepped closer in befuddlement to see what he was copying.  

Your jaw dropped as you saw him jotting down your lawyers info.

“What are you doing?!”  You shrieked, cool lost.  

Jungkook continued to scribble down what he could, not once looking back up to you.  

“I want to have a talk with your lawyer.”  

The threat was there as you knew what ‘talk’ meant in Jungkook’s dictionary.  

“Jungkook, stop this!  I don’t want your money or anything, I just want to stop being your wife and to live my life! Is that too much to ask for?!  Just let me go!” You exploded, two years of pent up resentment finally taking its’ toll.

Jungkook stood up and snatched the divorce papers, staring you dead in the soul with the iciness that could rival Antarctica itself.

“No, I can’t just ‘let you go’.  It’s really cute that you think I can though.  If you wanted to go to court, you know that my company has a board of eight lawyers with lots of experience just waiting to crush yours’.  And even after we are divorced, I still have ways to get to you.”

With the papers in his hand, he stalked to the left side of the office.  

His next words caused your blood to run cold as a picture was painted for you.  One where Jungkook lost his wife and is willing to do anything to get her back.

“It would be a shame if something happened to your friends.  It would also be a shame if your parents lost their home because they failed to pay their property taxes that their son-in-law had been covering.  And it would be a shame if your siblings were to have trouble at school. It’s a crazy world out there darling. Best you have me by your side.”

He crumpled the papers and tossed them into the fireplace.  

Then he turned to face you, voice chipper and face joyful as he said,

“Now that this silly business if over with, we can go get lunch.  And you can tell me all about this lawyer who thought he could steal my baby from me.”  

(Chinkbihh here, please let me know what you thought of this piece. I thrive off feedback bc I NEED VALIDATION ARIES SEASON SIS.  Please send more requests to me and my lovely admins and I hope you all have a great day.)

[raleigh-ocean]

next to me | wilhemina venable x raleigh ocean

summary: for Mina, it was hard to adjust to her new life, but as she felt how Raleigh moved by her side, her presence ever so soothing after a few months, she thought she was going to be fine. It would take a bit more time to Wilhemina to finally open up, however, but knowing more about her partner was a good plan in the meantime. 

words: 3,924

n/a: I think it was @darling-dontforgetme​ the one that asked me about Mina being taking to the doctor or something along the lines, because I wrote it down in some headcanons, and my inbox swallowed the ask for some reason, BUT I finally manage to come around and finish this little thing! So I hope y’all enjoy it!

Placing the book in her thigh, open by the page she was reading and adding notes to, Raleigh's eyes wandered to the ceiling. There was a flickering light that was bothering her to no end, but it wasn't her position to go and fix it. She pushed her glasses on top of her head, letting go a harsher breathe to ease the knot in her brain. No, she needed to fix it because she was really going nuts if she had to put up with it for five more minutes. 

Her eyes darted around the waiting room, empty since it was past mid-day. Even the nurse-made-secretary was gone, being called by one of the doctors. 

After a few mumbled words, Raleigh hummed content when the flickering stopped. In other circumstances she would have propped herself in one of the chairs to give it a touch with her own hands, but she wasn’t at home and she didn’t want to risk being kicked out of the clinic. She could go back peacefully to her reading, but instead she busied herself pressing her fingers against an invisible wrinkle in the coat over her legs to smooth it. The fabric from the dark duffle coat was perfectly taken-care of, so it was impossible that there was an imperfection. 

She couldn't think less from Wilhemina, to be honest. 

Her mind got distracted again when the nurse came out from the door where her girlfriend had disappeared almost an hour ago. Or that's what Raleigh thought. The nurse smiled warmly at her, knowingly, and then went back to her spot behind the desk. 

"Your sweetheart will be done in…about twenty," she was an old woman, her accent thick that reminded Raleigh of someone from her childhood. "Today's a hard day."

"A coffee would be a good idea then?" Raleigh smiled sideways, a conversation they were used to have. 

"The loveliest," the nurse smiled at that, watching the woman stand up. "Do you want me to keep her coat and your book while you are at it?" 

When the doctor opened the door for her, Wilhemina thought she was going to pass out at any given second. Not even her cane was enough to support her whole weight, her hands and her legs felt shaky after the session. She still wasn’t used to that new doctor so everything was way worse; but when she looked up from the floor and to where the chatter sounded, a veil of calmness fell over her softly to make her feel a bit better.

Seeing someone waiting for her after her appointments was truly something else. Back in Los Angeles, she always had to get a taxi home, but since she moved to New Orleans that wasn’t the case and it was such a...nice change. Not that she would ever say something about it, but seeing Raleigh waiting for her there meant the world for her. 

Her chatter with the nurse at the front desk ended right when they were in sight and Wilhemina felt her body, her new found magic, wanting to reach for Raleigh and let the woman hold her close to her warmth. 

“I’ll see you in two weeks, miss Venable,” she barely could hear the doctor but she nodded in agreement. “Remember to not strain yourself for a couple of days, then you can keep with your usual schedule.”

Wilhemina barely nodded in response, seeing Raleigh walking towards her with a calm expression in her face but the worry all over her hazel eyes. The doctor already gave her the next appointment so the only thing she did was bid farewell to him, letting her girlfriend help her with the coat and then they were gone from the clinic. It took more than just that, but Mina was too tired and everything displayed before her in unrelated chunks of information, missing how Raleigh had to fill in a couple papers quickly or how she offered her arm to her, which she took without a doubt.

Once they were safe in the car, which only reminded Wilhemina of her new boss because the Coven didn’t have another car yet aside of Cordelia’s and Madison’s, she couldn’t help but sigh loudly. Without a word, a coffee was handed out for her and her eyes went to the woman starting the engine. How could she be like that? She didn’t even said a word, she didn’t even asked for something, but she had it between her hands and the warmth from the plastic cup was already inviting her to indulge.

“I fucking swear to God if Cordelia doesn’t invest in an off-road next, I’m starting a revolution,” Raleigh’s voice was far from annoyed, more like playful while she tried to accommodate again the seat. “I still can’t picture how she can drive this posh ass car into the swamp and not get robbed overnight.”

It made Wilhemina chuckle lightly, taking a sip to her sweetened coffee and leaning back into the seat with a soft grunt of displeasure. If Raleigh, in her way after buckling herself up, seemed to hear her, Mina didn’t know, but she got her cheek caressed with two fingers before getting a quick kiss there. When her girlfriend finally drove off the parking lot, she took her time to just relax there as much as Raleigh’s driving skills let her. It wasn’t that she was a bad driver, but it made Mina feel like her father was driving: messy, unexpected and with too many swear words - at least with her could hear a variation, when she was really mad and switched languages. 

However, after a few blocks, Wilhemina couldn’t help but look at the woman driving in awe. Her posture was a bit rigid and her face was almost marbled, focusing way too hard in the task at hand. Was she making the effort to be calm and collected to not bother her? Raleigh biting her lower lip harshly when the car before them made a right without the turn signal was enough response to that.

After her appointments Wilhemina despised listening to music, brain to foggy to actually enjoy it without having a headache, but the silence not being filled with the usual monologue was a bit unsettling. So she looked around the car, finding out the book Raleigh had been reading while waiting for her and taking it just to find out she couldn’t read the cover at all.

“What are you reading?” frowning for her was easy, still trying to make some sense of the title at least, finding herself feeling how her magic was vibrating slightly.

“Oh, I found that old buddy in Cordelia’s office the other day,” the question visibly relaxed Raleigh, but then they made eye contact and Mina discovered a glint of guilt in her eyes. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t have been there to begin with, but! In my defense, it was calling me, so please just…”

“Honey, please, you know I won’t say a word,” Mina couldn’t find herself strong enough to make a snarky comment about this, so she only watched Raleigh relax at her soft words. “Now, are you going to tell me or should I put whatever Goode have in the music player? I bet it’s Stevie Nicks, twenty for that?”

After that joke and Raleigh giving her twenty dollars, because of course it was that - ‘why did you said it was Taylor Swift?’ ‘Listen, I just hoped it wasn’t Stevie for once.’ -, Wilhemina indulged once again in what her girlfriend was telling her. Just hearing her voice explaining things made her feel at ease, giving a ‘mhm’ and maybe a remark when it was needed, because for sure she didn’t know shit about ancient magic and for the time being that was going to remain like that.

Also, it wasn’t difficult to make the woman talk your ears off if you knew which topics to touch.

The rest of the trip back to the Academy was made like that, sharing something it would be soon locked again in Raleigh’s brain once they passed past the fence. Which was accurate, because once they were crossing the door the book was nowhere to be seen - it was hidden in the front of Raleigh’s sweatpants, like a kid that’s hiding sweets from her parents - and her whole demeanour shrunk heavily until she could barely notice she was there at all if her girlfriend wasn’t holding her arm.

She didn’t like that part of coming to her new home, but for today, she wasn’t going to comment on it.

Making their way towards Wilhemina’s assigned room, the dread she was feeling was bigger and bigger, and she tried to brace herself not only in Raleigh’s arm but in projecting her new found magic around Ray’s to make it to her destination. And when Raleigh closed the door behind them, Wilhemina could finally breathe. Sitting in the edge of the bed, she let go of her cane and covered her face with both hands, her tiredness hitting her even harder than she thought. 

"Mina?" Raleigh's voice is so tiny and full of worry that makes Mina take a peek in between her fingers to look at her. "Do you want something to eat? I was gonna get some cereal and maybe you were hungry too."

"I'm not, thank you," she sighed and finally put down her hands to her lap. "But can you do me a favor?"

The way Raleigh's features lighted up was something Wilhemina wasn't ready for in any possible way, but she swallowed the lump in her throat to finally say what she wanted. It was obvious her girlfriend wanted to be of help to her, even when she already did that in her own silent way, but to be vocal about it...what a wonderful thing it was to do.

"I need some painkillers and some help with getting in my pajamas," Wilhemina looked directly at her and now her girlfriend was closing the door again, walking to her wardrobe to get the clothes first. "And...can you stay with me? Now, tonight...Just stay, please?"

She felt shy to ask Raleigh that, way too shy when they've been going out for four months now, but she was feeling day by day that this was worth. So she was trying to 'woman up' with her feelings, reaching in between all the vines that had been protecting her for years so she could return what was given to her. Wilhemina shied away from Raleigh's eyes while waiting for her response, warmth installing in her cheeks.

"I'll stay with you all the time you want, lovely," and Raleigh's hands are unbuttoning her shirt with care and Mina starts to help her with that, making her move to unzip her skirt and helping her out, arms circling her neck to gain some support. "Even when you'll doze off to my incessant chatter."

Her chuckle was so pure that it made Mina want to hear it more often, her girlfriend leaving the room to get the food and the medicine after pressing a kiss to her temple. 

After buttoning the pajamas' shirt up, she pushed herself up to the bed until she was under the covers, letting the mattress to swallow her a bit and finding herself soon in a more comfortable position in spite of the throbbing and constant pain in her back. While waiting, she played with the too long sleeve from her shirt and it made her feel warm and cozy again. Raleigh didn't ask for her clothes back, the pajamas she was wearing lent to her back when they met in Los Angeles, and she didn't feel like actually giving them...so now she had in her possession a way too big pajama shirt and way too long pajama pants, which belonged to the woman she was learning to love.

The thought made her close her eyes and, at the same time, to Raleigh to appear through the bedroom door with her hands full of things...Oberon over her shoulders like a parrot of some sorts and on-growing puppy Sidonia walking a bit dumbly at her tail. Leaving everything in the nightstand - water, painkillers carefully hidden in her sweatpants’ pocket, a cereal bowl over Raleigh’s laptop and a notebook with a bitten pencil between its pages -, the tall woman crouched down enough to let the calico cat jump over the empty space of the bed, soon making his way towards his owner and cuddling her like they didn’t have a never ending on-going war between both. Wilhemina had enough time to scratch him under his head before heavy five months old Sidonia was now on the bed too, going to get the same cuddles from the human her human liked so much...and maybe try to catch Oberon’s tail, like always.

“I couldn’t leave them out,” was the only response Raleigh gave her, Wilhemina looking at her while Sidonia bit her fingers playfully, as she made her way to the spot reserved for her...now a bit tinier than she planned, but getting herself as close as her girlfriend as she could. “I’m not a monster, y’know? They wanted to give you snuggles too.”

“I won’t be surprised if in some months she starts behaving like a person, I mean, this bitch already does but your poor drooling ball is still a baby,” Wilhemina poked Oberon in the middle of the forehead upon saying that, Raleigh pushing Sidonia a bit with her hand to make her go cuddle against her own stomach to not bother Mina. 

“Oh c’mon,” Oberon finally moved to let Ray get closer and Mina took advantage of this to finally take the medicine, then finding herself moving closer to her girlfriend so she could rest her head in her shoulder. “I’m not that bad handling animals to give them such traumatic change.”

That Raleigh kissed her forehead automatically, putting a lock of red hair behind her ear, only gave Wilhemina more of that sweet love she was getting in daily doses. A natural thing that led to a new silence, one warm and soft that was barely broke when the woman cuddling her put a hand under the covers suddenly and pulled the book out of her pants, where it was hidden all this time. Her innocent yet mischievous expression only made Wilhemina to chuckle, closing her eyes to rub there a bit, glad today was make-up free. When she opened her eyes again, Raleigh’s hand was fixing the collar of her shirt absentmindedly.

Maybe it was now a good moment to just...try what she wanted to do, the tiredness of her body and mind giving her a little push, new found courage also pushing to the tips of her fingers to move her hand and resting it in Raleigh’s chest. 

Hand, that needless to say, was kissed and taken hostage.

“Can I ask you something?” she felt the approval hum vibrate ever so softly through her connection with Ray, face to that area between her chest and her shoulder. “Where...where did you grow up?”

“Here,” Raleigh’s answer was immediate and it sounded a bit automatic, thing that was noticed right away. “Didn’t my speech gave it away?”

“That much I can tell,” Mina wasn’t in the mood for teasing her, but she really wanted to know more...something that wasn’t a cold automatic response. “I meant your childhood home, before being trapped here like a Hogwarts’ student. Was it a nice place?”

And if her girlfriend was tense, now Wilhemina seemed to sense how she gave in, as if Raleigh was trying to hold part of her weight to not get swallowed by the comfort of the bed. Mina had found recently that Raleigh always tried to seem lighter or smaller than she actually was, physically and mentally talking, and that along with how she presented herself every time she was in the Academy didn’t settle right with Wilhemina at all.

“Jefferson Parish, Kenner,” sighing, so deep and heavy, she started with that tone people got when they said something that they’ve repeated for a really long time. “We lived in the north, near the lake, and well...for me was the best place ever on this Earth,” Raleigh played with Wilhemina’s hostage hand to put her palm against hers to size them, the latina’s hand easily being a bigger even when Mina’s fingers were long enough to touch Ray’s fingertips. “It wasn’t a big fancy house, just a small apartment with enough room for three to live in...so you can see my surprise and uneasiness when I got here.”

“You seem pretty much used to it by now,” and it was the truth, because Raleigh was the only one along Cordelia without having troubles getting around the house. Even the staff, those young girls she was starting to know little by little, sometimes seemed out of place.

“That’s what I call self-preservation mechanism,” with a low chuckle, Raleigh intertwined their fingers. “I hated so much being in here, I kinda still do, because sometimes it gives me the creeps that everything is so...white, almost felt antiseptic and sometimes gets really silent,” she was lost for a second and then she focused again on their linked hands. “At my parents’ there was always something playing in the radio or the smell of food, when my mother tried to pull a new recipe,” another soft laugh. “Warm colored walls, an awkward Virgen María picture that my grandma gave us in a shelf by the biggest jelly-bean jar ever, our shoes all over the entrance...mhm, that was my childhood home. It felt like people lived there...here was, is, always too organized.”

Hearing her girlfriend talk so fondly of something was good for a change, and Mina was afraid of falling asleep to that, because it wasn’t boring at all but it was feeling her with more warmth that she usually could handle.

“It sounds like a nice place,” she found herself wanting to visit, to be there and feel all of that, because it was filling Raleigh’s features with contentment just by talking about it. “Even with the virgin there, watching over you each time you picked candy.”

“It totally was,” Raleigh didn’t lose the smile, not even when she said the next words. “I frankly don’t know if the building is even there anymore, to be honest, I...well, my mother moved eventually from there and a few years later the hurricane happened, so…”

“The memory will always be with you, and that’s important,” Wilhemina was quick to complete that, because she didn’t know yet many information about Raleigh’s not immediate whereabouts but she knew for a fact that parents weren't in the equation as of now. 

"That's for sure," Mina moved her head enough to look at her and press a kiss to her neck, making the other woman hum content for that.

In her mind, Wilhemina had too many things to possibly ask, too many things that she wanted to know, but seeing that talking about something as normal as her childhood put a soft expression in Raleigh's features...she decided to maybe ask one more thing about it.

One more thing because she was feeling the painkillers starting to kick in finally, not being confident in staying awake much longer than probably the answer and some more seconds in between falling asleep and holding to the present.

That plus hearing Raleigh talk, was actually making wonders to her mood, starting to push to the back of her mind the pain and the discomfort.

"I wonder now if you were a calm kid or a troublemaker," Wilhemina chuckled sleepily with the thought, freeing her hand from the grasp of her girlfriend to pass it over her stomach and hug her. "I feel you were like the first ones, those blessed babies that don't cry much," she yawned a bit and it made Sidonia yawn in response, tired already from trying to catch unsuccessfully Oberon's tail. "My nephew is like that, such an angel."

Wilhemina has yet to talk about her own family, but Raleigh didn't seem to pressure her into anything. She only let go of a soft laugh and kiss her forehead lovingly, caressing her arm.

"Oh good lord, my mother wished that too," another good laugh blooming in her chest had Wilhemina's new found magic tingle in response. "I was a hurricane and an earthquake thrown together in a mixer, my father even made up a nickname just because," Wilhemina couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, giving up and resting better in her lover's arm, still listening to her. "The only times I managed to actually sit down were when my mother was reading for me some new book she found at work or one of her or my father's old magic books."

"I don't even know why you don't give that nerdy vibe if you were read a lot and I know you still do that," she managed to mumble, mouth half pressed against Raleigh's chest at this point. "I suppose is that."

"My father used to say 'I was born to fight an army with the force of my frown'," Wilhemina didn't see that, but upon saying that Raleigh actually frowned, giving a scaring stare to a heavy sleep Sidonia. "My mother was more of the opinion that I took any 'bad girl juju' out of them and made it my own. I remember once I fought a girl because she kept giving me a stinky eye and didn't let go until someone pointed out she had just a tic in her left eye."

"A feisty one I see, Ocean," Wilhemina giggled at the little snippet of the adventures of little Ray, which in her hazy mind couldn't picture how she looked like.

Raleigh looked down at Wilhemina for a second, surprised to have her in that mood. She was always in check with her feelings, without a crack on her whole demeanour, but having her girlfriend being so comfortable around her was truly a blessing. Raleigh didn’t need Wilhemina to constantly tell her or show her she loved her back, she was confident enough to know she did even when at times she asked herself how could she possibly loved her.

So the only thing that she did in response was to kiss the crown of Wilhemina’s head with care and give her a new caress to her cheek with her thumb.

“Oh, you don’t even know the start of it,” Raleigh laughed again, softly, to keep talking. “I had too much energy when I was a kid, then I grew up and that energy went all to my brain and-”

And there, it’s when Raleigh heard Wilhemina’s deep breath.

Falling asleep that easily surprised her a second time, but after the heavy day the woman in her arms had it was probably something to expect. Raleigh smiled to herself, making sure Wilhemina was really asleep, and then she raised her hand to use her Telekinesis to get her notebook, laptop and cereals from the nightstand. She could use one hand perfectly to keep studying, it wasn’t that hard, right?

But after a hour of almost exploding because, of course, she couldn’t take notes and holding the book with one hand, Raleigh decided to just lay there with her lover.

Maybe she could even try to take a nap too.