#gotta make sure i do all my exercises between now & then lol to make sure it’s as strong as it needs to be

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m officially going back to work on Saturday <3

[queenlua]

Writer interview game

tagged by @ultrakatua , hello thank you i’m a slut for attention

(if you're reading this you should feel free to consider yourself tagged, even/especially if you feel like you don't know me that well!)

When did you start writing?

Since I was pretty little… my 1st/2nd grade teacher had this thing where everyone had to write something in their journal every morning and I was SUPER tryhard about it, and when she told us we didn’t have to write about our lives, we could write about ANYTHING, I definitely started making up wild stories n shit

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I read anything and everything. I guess I wouldn’t be a very good writer of big nonfiction history tomes, but that’s mostly because it requires, y’know, knowing a lot of history first; if I had that knowledge it seems like it’d be fun to try!

I used to say “I could never write a mystery” but then I read Tana French and was like ooooh maybe mysteries are cool actually so. huh. i guess i can imagine myself trying to write just about anything once. (in practice i mostly end up writing a combination of moody litfic and shlocky scifi/fantasy)

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I’ve occasionally tried to actively emulate a specific author’s style, but that kind of thing feels kind of hard to sustain for more than the length of a writing exercise. it's kind of like trying to talk with a different accent. like, sure, you CAN train yourself to talk a different way… but i like how i talk fine, i’m too lazy to change :P

i dunno if i’ve heard many ppl comparing my writing to Actual Authors! and i lack the objectivity to figure it out myself haha

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

i do the Truman Capote thing where i mostly write lying down (but on a couch instead of in bed b/c partner is an extremely light sleeper and i do most my writing between midnight and 4am lol)

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

god i wish i knew!!! then maybe i’d be able to muster it up on demand!!!

(in fanficland i seem to tend to glom onto a specific character and then just write ten fics Examining That Character From Every Angle. in origficland it’s that but usually with some sort of archetype or folktale or something that i’ve become briefly obsessed with)

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

…I did have a moment earlier this month where I typed a line of dialogue, thought to myself “that sounds faintly familiar hm,” did a ctrl+f on my computer, and discovered I’d used a very similar line of dialogue in an abandoned WIP from seven years ago, in a scenario VERY THEMATICALLY/SITUATIONALLY familiar to the WIP i was working on, and i was like. oh my god. i so have a Type why am i like this

(in this particular situation the Theme & Variation was along the lines of “doing a Horrible Thing under duress but also none of these other fucks are willing or able to do it so i guess i gotta, jfc.” skimming over my past few pieces, inasmuch as there’s any commonality between them, i think i can point at, like… “feeling trapped by a mostly-internal sense of obligation that is nonetheless *experienced* as though it were external,” “people talking past each other for very good yet nonetheless tragic reasons,” “clueless rich guys,” “angry women contemplating murder”)

((wait, also: awful dinner parties and awful sex. fuck, why didn’t i lead with that one. i want to write awful dinner parties and bad sex for the entire rest of my life))

What is your reason for writing?

passes time between now and the grave

(less glibly: i get pretty unhappy if i go a long time without Making something, and of all my creative-ish abilities, writing is the one i find most satisfying)

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Once I finished playing a game, thought to myself “that was good but I really want backstory for [character] and actually I’m pretty sure I have the only correct take on said backstory,” and then proceeded to write that fic. A commenter came in saying “hey I came here because I was really craving backstory for [character] and now I can stop reading because yours is clearly The One that I was looking for, thanks." That felt really good! how often have i had to write a fic, not because I wanted to, but because NO ONE ELSE had written the one I wanted to read??? Glad to spare you some trouble, random internet person.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

for origfic: the author is dead babey. do not perceive me. i am not here

for fanfic: i still don’t mind if the reader simply Does Not Perceive Me; the work itself is the thing i care most about. but, y’know. if someone reads my fic & is like “i’m insane about this character in the exact same way Lua is, i’m-a slide into her DMs,” i’m very down for that, lol. it’s like whale songs. i’m out here singing my goofy tune and maybe i never hear anything back but if i do that’d be a sweet bonus

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

hmmmm. i’m never quite sure how to think about this sort of question… people often answer with something like “dialogue” or “descriptive imagery” or whatever, but that started to feel kind of weird to me at some point? like pointing at a symphony piece and being like “the low winds were especially good at staying in tune,” like it may be a correct observation, but also the whole orchestra has to be in tune to *some* extent for the piece as a whole to work, and when it *is* working the thing you point out as a strength isn’t gonna be something ticky-tack like that

…but i’m not sure what i’d specifically point to as a higher-order thing haha. i guess, last time i reread some of my own stuff, i was pretty pleased with how much interpersonal *tension* there was in various “ppl talking in rooms” scenes (see: awful dinner parties), so maybe something along those lines

How do you feel about your own writing?

arguably the main reason to write fanfic is so I can go back and reread it 2+ years later and be like “damn this shit rules, bitch was really onto something there”

(i like it! it’s pretty fun good stuff! a pleasing mix of action/plottiness/gratuitousness and, like, actual character and narrative work)

[carpetcat2]

Want yo know your fusion knights better! 😲

16. What makes their stomach turn?

21. Why do they get up in the morning?

B) What inspired you to create them?

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

Sorry for the long wait ^_^u 16. What makes their stomach turn? They're all toughies! I'm sure most of them could handle things the average person would find creepy or crawl-y. Most of them would agree that whatever degree Parasite is awful, though.

21. Why do they get up in the morning?

Hiber: To appreciate nature <3 and to take care of basic health needs that's really important too. Snare: Sometimes he doesn't. Wheel: Spite. Psilo: For the thrill of discovery! Every new day is an opportunity to learn plenty of new things! Like "hey, did you know there were a billion spiders under your porch?" Very cool. Train bros: Well, they've got a business to run, don't they? They have to make sure the trains run on time! Lumin: There are always new stories to be collected. Tales of treasure and tales of woe, of fortune and of fate. Parasite: "Oh boy! I can't wait to make other people's lives miserable! On purpose!"

B) What inspired you to create them?

I wholeheartedly love character design exercises and this was one of my favorites.

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

I have plenty of concept art for these guys lol. I think Hiber, Wheel, and Steam are the only ones that basically didn't change too much from their initial concepts.

Design notes -

Hiber was a lot skinnier before, but she has a lot more meat on her bones now bc I wanted her to fit more into her hibernating theme. Gotta have enough meat survive the winter.

Snare was always gonna be big and tall and imposing, but it took a lot more finangling than I first thought to finalize his design. His earlier concepts had a more armored and ragged look. One cool idea that I scrapped was that he'd have his head and hands in a pillory, but he had extra arms on his back that he could use instead. Another one was that he’d carry around a giant coffin and smack people around with it the same way Puzzle used his compass. Those were overhauled bc they leaned into Specter a bit too much, and felt incohesive with his theming. I ended up taking more design notes from BodySwap Specter since they had a bit more design overlap with Puzzle. In was a fun decision in the end bc I think that caused him to look a little like Luan too.

I think I had a pollution theme going on in Lumin’s early concepts. He was and still is based off of siphonophores so I imagined he would steer around some long train of boats absolutely filled with human garbage and human treasures, but underneath they’d be attached to some gigantic eldritch sea monster. I think his earlier concepts had mechanical arms for some reason. I think I’ve solidified him into being a vaguely eldritch creature cosplaying as a goofy pirate trope, but his design itself is still a bit of a work in progress.

Coal and Steam were supposed to be one guy, but I couldn’t decide between making the one guy a conductor or an engineer so I had to split them up. I don’t think they changed too much from their initial designs except for some tweaks, like giving Coal a belt and fixing his hat, or shaving off a few inches from Steam.

Wheel’s design is mainly based off bikers and medieval jousters. One thing that didn’t make it in was her also being a cowboy(?????). I got rid of that pretty quickly bc trying to fit too many concepts into one character would be really messy, but I mourn the fact that I couldn’t figure out how to fit in wheel spurs in her boots. Her final design didn’t stray too far from her first concept, but some stuff was reworked.

The funny thing about Psilo is that I specifically chose Plague, Spore, and Prism as his components bc they had a lot of similar design elements. That turned out to be more of a challenge rather than a convenience bc I had to actively work to make Psilo Not look like one guy over the other. He still looks too much like Plague Knight, but I will keep convincing myself he is not a Plague clone. I wanted to go for a witch-y design for him at first, and I settled on that for a while. I don’t really remember why I went in a different direction but I guess it’s bc I wanted to represent Prism and Spore more in the design. I think his final helmet was actually based on concept art of Plague Knight from the SK artbook where he had a bottom visor that made him look like he had a big toothy grin, which was really cute and convenient for incorporating Spore’s visor.

A Lot happened with Parasite. I was gonna settle on "grouchy old man" Parasite, but he was being developed to be used in a friend's DnD campaign as an enemy and said friend characterized him very differently to that idea, so I wanted to make him fittingly look unhinged. The way I draw him now vs his current "official" render is a bit different, but that mostly comes down to me getting a better idea of his proportions rather than any significant design changes. Sorry about how disorganized this concept compilation is. I'll try to organize these by character later.

[stackthedeck]

Hiiiiiiiiii i kinda had a question #lol. The fact that you write is awesome and makes me wanna write too, but every time i try i feel like i have such a large amount of self doubt that comes with it. Every single scene i finish is accompanied by an "oh god this sucks" in my head. Im also having a lot of trouble getting character voices down?? Like wow. Writing's harder than i thought it would be🫡 anyways just wanted to see if you had like tips or anything for dealing with that😨😨😨

Okay so my most practical advice is for how to get character voice. What I'll do as a writing exercise is I'll pick an episode of a show or like a scene from a movie or maybe a podcast episode, pick a medium that has a focus on dialogue. Transcribe the dialogue as you watch or listen (pause or turn on subtitles as needed) and pause the thing between chunks of dialogue and add the action tags, describe what the characters are feeling, give them internal monologue, describe the setting. I know this sounds tedious and like it is and it might not work for you and you definitely can't post it. But it makes me super aware of characters' speech patterns, the way they pause between words, what nicknames or phrases they use often, etc. It's also something that I just pick up on naturally, like I'll talk like my friends not as like an impression of their voice but how they talk and people say it's spooky.

The short cut to nailing how a character talks is to steal dialogue directly from the source, have them use nicknames from canon, and like be aware of their general tone. Like in most situations, Deadpool leans into a more jokey way of speak while Spider-Man is sarcastic with dry jokes and Daredevil is serious and gruff. These will change with each situation you know characters have moods and stuff. But if you're familiar with the source material you're probably really close to a character's voice that you think

with original stories, if I want to create a strong voice for characters and narration, I'll do a writing warm up by going outside or like a library and describe what I experience. I'm not allowed to start writing my actual thing until I include all five senses in those descriptions. I also tend to narrate how I think which doesn't work for everyone but I love metaphors and alliteration so it works. With original characters, they're usually based on someone I know so I'll just memorize their exact words or watch videos that they send me. It's kinda creepy tbh. But rule of thumb is to always read your stuff out loud, heck I usually say the dialogue before I write it, and it gives it a more human sound.

Okay practical advice done now I gotta tell you the thing you won't like. The best way to get over the "this sucks" mentality is to just write a lot. Anytime I'm not so sure about my own writing, I got back to the Hamilton fanfic I wrote in middle school that I proudly put on the internet and sent to my friends and I think "okay it could be so much worse" self-doubt will always be a part of the process you will always be your worst critic. But also you've also gotta be your biggest fan, it helps to find someone else to hype you up, but I dare you to read what you've written a say at least one nice thing about it. Any time you're in the editing stage, say one nice thing about what you've written before you say something that's not working. When you finish editing, say one thing that you're happy you added. You gotta write a lot but you've gotta be good to yourself

[whentherewerebicycles]

weight talk under the cut

I got really out of my food and exercise routines during the months of the job hunt + big move + adjusting to new bleh work stuff (understandable) and my weight swung up quite a bit higher than it’s been in a while. but I did a pretty focused reset of my eating habits maybe six-ish weeks ago and I am starting to slowly see some of that stress weight come off. to be clear I like my body as is and while I have vague targets for where I’d like my ‘resting’ weight to be eventually I don’t diet or calorie count and I don’t stress too much about hitting certain ~milestones or whatever the way I used to in my lightly disordered eating youth. that said I think I do want to prioritize steadily and sustainably losing weight this year, for the following reasons:

health reasons (mostly my PCOS + family risk factors for diabetes and heart issues etc)

fertility reasons (moderate weight loss is supposed to increase chances)

🤰reasons (I’ve been reading about this a lot and if it’s within my control I’d like to make a concerted effort to not put on a lot more weight than I need to sustain a healthy pregnancy, especially since PCOS makes it really difficult for me to lose excess weight once I’ve put it on)

emotional reasons (this isn’t weight specific but: I feel a LOT better and sleep better when I’m eating well and getting a good amount of exercise. since I will have to go off most/all of my meds if I get pregnant I want to make sure I’m doing everything I can to take care of myself in other ways!)

I don’t know how long the IUIs will take, but I have budgeted for up to 6 cycles and I think I’d like to focus my food/exercise habit-building plans on a 3-6 month timeline. gonna return to this later today to do some more journaling and planning I think! but for now I want to stop & recognize that I’ve made huge progress towards the goals I set back in the spring 2020, when I realized I needed to change everything about my relationship to food/exercise. I eat SO many more kinds of vegetables than I used to and have learned to prepare healthy delicious meals. I’ve virtually eliminated processed foods + refined carbs and sugars from my everyday diet and have figured out ways to make that feel positive rather than restrictive or punitive. I’m curious about food and interested in new foods in a way I never was before like, age 27 lol. and I’ve experienced a couple stress-related setbacks (where I relapse into old eating habits) and been able to gently reset/get myself back on track. I consistently get 5-7 hours of moderate intensity exercise every week and I’m going to work on gradually building up to an additional 2-4 hours of higher intensity exercise at the gym each week. and while the scale isn’t everything, I’ve lost between 25-30 lbs (it’s fluctuated a bit with stress) in a little under 3 years. which probably isn’t as much as I could lose with crash dieting or whatever but my goal isn’t to lose fast but to lose sustainably in a way that gradually lowers my ‘resting’ weight aka the weight my body seems to kinda settle into. that feels really good to me!!! an average of 10 lbs per year seems doable and sane and not punishing.

it doesn’t make a ton of sense to set weight loss goals given the uncertainty of babymaking lol but if it does take me a while, I’d love to try to use careful food management + more exercise to slowly shed 5-7 lbs in the next six months, just to get myself comfortably into the 160s. the periods in my life where I’ve been the most physically fit my resting weight was between 145-150 and that 150 range has always felt like a good weight on my frame. soooo just gotta keep doing what I’m doing! working on building those good habits! tuning out the noise of weight loss pressure etc! focusing on what feels good for my body and self!

[cloveroctobers]

THINKING OUT LOUD — Angel Reyes x black! Reader

A/n: was this requested? No. I missed writing for him so here we are! Im finally in the mood to write something so be free from my drafts! Lol. I’m trying to stick to short writings so I don’t get overwhelmed. This one was mostly narrated about the history between y/n + angel since we know I tend to make things lengthy sometimes. Hope you don’t mind for this part!

Genre: angst — it’s me we’re talking about here! + drama? Not really more heavy on the angst!

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Once upon a time you were doing so well on your own. Some might say two years was long enough and some might say it was too short to fully move on. Your therapist? She said everyone moves at their own pace but ultimately you had the power to chose what happens next.

You had a weak moment and that was okay. Sure it pissed you off now that you looked back at it and you could have easily avoided him like you’ve been doing since you were no longer married. However your therapist would be scolding you for blaming yourself, it was good that you were acknowledging the facts but that didn’t mean you had to kick yourself in the ass repeatedly over it.

Yeah…tell that to your broken heart.

It was great minding your business.

And Angel Reyes had the power to disrupt that. You’ve been divorced for two years—but that didn’t mean you didn’t see him for a whole two years. Of course you had an attachment to everyone in the club since you were angel’s girl; his wife so it was extremely hard to just completely erase him being part of your life. It was nasty divorce and drunk angel turned even nastier. Press the wrong buttons and you could be that evil bitch too, everything wasn’t always one sided and you hated that side of you.

Ultimately you had to do what was best for you. That house the both of you were buying twenty-seven minutes away from santo padre? Was just yours now and you made sure of it, you quit hotel management a month after the divorce and decided to put your archives degree to work—you were always about business and never scared to get your paper up, you put on weight and managed it with exercising twice a week, in short everything was different and changing in your life so no more forever relationship would ruin that for you. You did put on a good show to your friends and the club because of course this shit hurt, you loved that man with all that you had but angel always felt like he wasn’t good enough and you were tired of fighting for this relationship. You didn’t have as much patience as you originally thought.

He happened to be at the farmers market downtown in your area on a Sunday. It was clear there was some business arrangement going on as you noticed the rest of the club spread around. You had a Lambrusco slushie in your hands as you browsed one of the vendors in search of some therapy plants. Currently you were transforming your indoor porch to a green room and your grandmother already sent you a list in the mail from down south telling you what to buy.

That woman made it known that she and your mother would be coming up for thanksgiving. And she may be tiny but when she made suggestions she expected you to follow them…so yes you were getting ready now in the middle of summer.

“Whatchu know about…Lavandula, y/n?” Was the first thing Angel said to you, head tilted to the side as he read the tag.

Huffing you looked up at the man, “a lot more than you, since I’m positive you don’t even know what you just said.”

Angel blinked, “it’s purple and im picking up a sense of attitude so it’s gotta be lavender or sum’ right?” He lifted his shoulders nonchalantly as he tried to drag you.

“Did you just slither over here to get on my nerves?”

“Nah, I came over to see who was filling that sage dress out so nicely, querida.” Angel licked his lips as he eyed your figure from the side and stepped to the left, his eyes lingered on your backside making you roll your eyes, “and I knew it had to be someone familiar the closer I got to you. I mean I should know that body anywhere even with a few minor changes.”

Maybe you should have stopped sipping on your wine slushie but it gave you the liquid courage to stop the way your belly was beginning to feel.

Smiling you reached out to grasp his bicep which caught angel by surprise as he eyed your nude nails that gripped him nicely, “well I wish I had some sage now to get rid of the demon that’s right in front of me.”

Spinning you turned back to the woman who appeared with most of your list of plants, “thank you ma’am, do you have any sage by chance?”

Angel couldn’t help but to chuckle at your antics and it all seemed to happen in slow motion when you glanced back over him. It was a breezy but warm day here and you were living at ease until Angel came back in like a tornado, messing with your peace.

That day at the farmer’s market led him back to your house. He seemed to like what you did with the stucco 3 bedroom single family home as he looked around, helping you bring the plants in. However there was a hint of bitterness swirling around his chest at the thought that he couldn’t share this with you. He took note of each detail, what you updated and what you didn’t and imagined what he would do if it was the both of you here instead.

You offered him dinner as a thank you for helping you with the load of plants in your home. Who was angel to turn down a meal with the woman he could have spent the rest of his life with? A bottle of wine and a meal led to the both of you fucking on top of the tile island…it wasn’t your proudest moment but angel sensed it wouldn’t be the last and unfournately he was right.

Opening that door (and your legs) led to what you should have known. You got comfortable in what it used to be with a man you were familiar with. You were healing yourself before you involved yourself in other relationships…with Angel Reyes he couldn’t say the same.

Bishop was the one to invite you to a party at the club when he spotted you at one of the gas stations, part of you told you not to go and the other missed the feeling of being surrounded by people who you considered family. You were doing shots with Creeper and Gilly when a hand touched your upper back, revealing Hank who you beamed at.

“Hey, Tranq!” You wrapped your arms around the man’s waist who returned it with a kiss to the top of your head.

He then whispered in your ear that he needed to speak with you over the music.

“Alright boys, don’t let my seat get too cold! I’ll be back.”

Creeper pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his stomach, “take your time, mama.”

Which earned a laugh from you and Tranq while Gilly roughly wiggled Creeper’s shoulder who felt himself on the urge of hurling. He cupped his mouth and smacked the man’s arm down before he scrapped the chair back to rush off to the bathrooms.

Tranq led you over towards the window where the music seemed to be less loud when he began talking to you. He made small talk, checking in on you, glad to see that you were doing well before he got into it.

“I don’t mean to be blunt so forgive me if this comes out wrong…are you and Angel messing around?”

You didn’t meet his eyes but laughed it off a bit, “why? are you boys making stupid bets about us?”

Tranq took a brief inhale, “I think it would be best if the two of you ended things. I also think angel hasn’t been honest with you, y/n.”

“Honest about what?” You folded your arms.

The signal of someone entering the bar caused you to look over your shoulder in the right moment. Ez came through first followed by a shorter girl with curly hair who had her hand attached to Angel’s. Your eyes focused on their exchange once they entered the bar, how she was all smiles as angel leaned down to peck her lips and then bring her ring covered finger up to his lips afterwards.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you whipped yourself around, staring at your feet as you tried to numb this feeling down.

“Yeah, I was caught off guard too since nails and I—or I thought we could—are you okay?” Tranq stumbled over his words as he reached out to lift your chin.

The feeling of regret washed over you. You let this man back into your life like it was old times, fucking around like rabbits on every surface of YOUR house and he had the nerve to treat you of all people like his side? You were livid. This was beyond disrespect at this time. Normally your cool took time to simmer, you knew how to control it but tonight? You were letting it be known and out loud.

“I’m so sick of his shit!” You screamed, turning around as you caught the attention of Bishop and Taza who were seated at a table near by.

Both men watched in curiosity as you stomped across the wooden floor, their eyes briefly scanning Tranq who attempted to follow after you. On your way by you snatched two more shot glasses, downed one and went over to nails who seemed to separate from angel and stood by the other bar girls who were most likely her friends?

“Hey, nails right?” You greeted the girl who appeared confused.

“Yeah that’s me and you are?”

“Just a old family friend of angel’s and ez’s.” You held out a glass to her in which she cautiously took, “I hear you and Angel are…”

The blonde Asian girl cut in, “nails was the one to finally tie that bull down, tell her nails!”

Nails laughed with her head down, “we’re engaged.”

“That calls for celebration! I’m late to the party though since he didn’t let me know. Drink up, girl!” You encouraged.

Nails sighed, “I wish I could…but I’m expecting.”

Your eyes went wide as you caught yourself on the bar, leaning your arms against the counter. Nails eyed you in concern almost reaching out to help you but a false smile stretched out onto your lips as you slapped the counter.

“Another round on me, love!” You requested to the blonde behind the counter who failed to hide her expression at your antics.

It only took a minute before she slid four glasses over to you. Next you climbed up onto the counter, shots in your hands as you let out a whistle to get people’s attention.

“Hey everyone, you may or may not know me but I’m y/n Semedo! Previously known as y/n Reyes!” You didn’t bother getting Nails reaction since it wasn’t about her.

You began walking the bar so at ease with your wide heels on, “I just want to give a huge shout-out to angel and nails on their engagement and their new bundle of joy…since I had no idea!

“Oh shit.” You heard Ez mumble as he was closet male to you, followed by tranq.

A burp rumbled in your chest as you let out a small laugh, “excuse me yall…I’m just thinking out loud here as I go! I remember my first pregnancy. It was tragic, a ectopic pregnancy so make sure the moment you feel your body isn’t acting right, you make those appointments as soon as you can honey or else it’ll fuck you up even more. I tried to ignore the signals my body was sending me also on top of dedicating my time to Angel Reyes’ needs only. I almost died for this man by cleaning up his reckless shit. How did you get those cuts and bruises Angel?”

You then glanced around the room noticing the marks on majority of their faces too, not caring about the looks people were sending you. You didn’t need anyone’s pity, you made that known but playing with fire gets you burned.

“Okay, y/n. Let’s get you down.” Ez reached up for you since Angel was making no sign to go to you.

He just held up a wall, beer bottle in his hands, eyes locked on you while nails stared at him in disbelief at what she was hearing.

Kicking your leg out at the brawny man you shushed him, “I’ll get down when I’m good and ready, Ezekiel. This speech is all for good intentions, they say it’s healthy to get things out in the open. That’s what I’m doing. I just don’t understand how some people can’t? I mean if you’re with the person you’re meant to be with, why can’t they share the same decency and let you know something so simple. They’re getting married and having a baby. Boom. Easy.”

“It should be as easy as it is for you with your whole ‘no strings attached arrangement’ you try so hard to have, Angel. Fuck that! It’s the same pattern with you, you say that but pick one out of the three to really fuck up. First it was me, then Adelita, and now it’s your turn nails!” You laughed as you rambled on.

Tossing your head back you downed the shot and snapped your fingers for the blonde to hand you the second but tranq held his hand out to advise against that. Reaching down you at least snatched the lime from the glass to suck on.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” you sucked air between your teeth at the tartness, “but these lessons?! This is it for me, for real this time. I might just fuck around and marry Hank here, at least he knows how to be honest and loyal. How does that sound? But to conclude, congratulations to the new couple! And it’s always fuck my ex husband, Angel Reyes!”

You grinned holding the dry lime out in cheers at the man across the room, who rubbed at his jaw in annoyance. Giving one last bow, you tossed the lime at angel’s feet which made him charge over to you as you held out your hands for Ez and tranq to help you down.

Nails intervened angel from getting to you, “how dare you, y/n!? Trying to embarrass me in front of my club? My place of business?”

Snorting you replied, “that’s all you care about huh? Your precious club instead of your got damn dishonesty?! You’re acting as if I told everyone what you’ve been doing lately. When did you two get engaged and how far long are you?”

Angel didn’t answer making nails look between the two of you; leaving her to answer, “he asked me two weeks ago with his mother’s wedding ring and I’m a week or so longer before that? A month maybe.”

Throwing your head back in laughter you clapped it up for the man who bit down on his tongue so hard, hoping you didn’t say anything else. Just last week he had you pressed up against the sliding door in your bedroom, hitting it from the back while coaching you to tell him you’re his while he was out here asking some girl to marry him.

Classic Angel Reyes.

“…Maybe next time don’t tell someone you love them just to turn around and marry someone else and have their baby.”

“So I can’t move on? You’ve been doing that shit. Living in a house that we agreed to buy together and who knows who you’ve been playing house with there?!” Angel yelled, making nails slightly step away from him.

He didn’t know how he sounded right now but true feelings seem to seep out without a thought when it came to you.

“Was that your plan to get back in? To leave your mark all over my house as if you already didn’t put me through it?! Hitting me with a divorce and then acting like you didn’t, then fucking Adelita behind my back while still trying to control who I let into my life when you’re no longer in it? You’re sick, you know.” You pointed a finger at the man, ready to charge at him but Ez wrapped one solid arm around your waist.

Tranq glanced at bishop and taza who signaled with their eyes that it was time to wrap this up, “if you both cant hold a civil conversation elsewhere then it’s best for the both of you to just end this for good.”

“I tried!” You patted your chest at each word, “I was better or getting there and fucking Angel ruined that! Y’all don’t need to talk to me, you need to talk to your fucking brother—since I just warned all the girls in here what’s he’s about, so don’t any of you stand here and try to judge me.”

You wiggled yourself out of Ez’s hold but he still held his arms out to block you just in case you wanted to get a few hits in. He understood why you might, old you would have been attacked and sure that wasn’t a good look when it came to anger yet hurt people do stupid things.

Taking deep breaths you calmed yourself down before a smile broke out onto your lips, a smile that would haunt angel’s dreams as sent one his way.

“Don’t show up to my house, I’m warning you, Angel, since you won’t like what you might find. I could be onto the next dick or have a shotgun waiting for your ass as soon as you get through the door. And we both know I don’t miss.” You walked by them all, snatching your fallen jacket off the ground.

You stopped at the door, “my apologies to you bish for the little rowdiness, but hey! at least nobody’s face is broken by my hands this time huh? I’m sure it won’t happen again.” You gave your apology to the man who dipped his head at you.

“Take care of yourself, y/n.” He told you, slightly glaring at angel before he raised a glass at you in which you winked.

“Tranq? Take me home, I’m no good to drive.” You asked, and he paused for only a second before grabbing his own jacket to follow you out.

“The fuck? no.” Angel stepped forward, remembering what you just said not too long ago and one thing you loved was getting under angel’s skin when he couldn’t do the same in return anymore.

Tranq stopped at the door, hand on the knob after you disappeared from everyone’s frame as he met Nails and then Angel’s eyes, “stand down angel. I got this.”

And with the door shut, Angel took one arm and slapped the remaining shot glasses off the counter before he stalked off, fishing his jeans for a cigarette.

[thefanciestborrower]

Saw that character asks post, and now I gotta know more about these lads!

May I perhaps ask 1 and 12 to Ben,

And 1, 7, and 14 to James?

Also, I’m very curious if #84 had any special significance, and why you chose it!

Ben:

1. Tell us a little bit about yourself!

Sup guys! I’m Ben, and I’m one of the craziest people you’re ever likely to meet. No really, I’m pretty sure I am. I mean, not many other guys would be willing to sing on a table in front of all their friends or dive down a giant’s throat, and therefor that makes me special. I love acting, gaming, and hey if you’ve got YouTube then you should totally check out my stuff because I am ALWAYS looking to up that follower count. It’s mostly original shorts and things, but I think if enough people start spreading my work I could really make it big. What else what else...oh! I can play harmonica, which is a skill few have mastered and I am very proud of it. 

12. What’s your favorite part of being nommed?

Well what’s not to like! I mean, sure some of my friends think I’m a bit weird for enjoying it so much, but I think they’re secretly just jealous I’ve got the best spot to nap and play splatoon between classes. It’s warm, soft, and call me crazy, but even the slime is pretty fun once you get used to it. Plus I get to mess with James and listen, seeing how embarrassed I can get him with a few simple little pokes to his stomach is always a highlight of my day.  

James:

1. Alright, pred, tell us a little bit about yourself!  

Hey everyone, my name is James, and I guess the most interesting thing about me is that I play football. It’s...more of a hobby than anything really, but I love the exercise and it’s a great way to make friends. My favorite thing to do if I ever end up with some free time though is taking care of my plants. It’s a little silly and boring sounding maybe, but for me it’s also very relaxing. Which I think is important you know? I mean, I like hanging out with my friends, but I need my alone time as well from time to time. I also really like cooking and eating new foods. Again, that’s also more of a hobby than something serious, but there’s just something so fun about creating, well, art, with something most people take for granted. 

7. How does your favorite prey react to being eaten?

Oh, you mean Ben? He’s practically crawled down my throat on multiple occasions and I think that about sums up how he feels about the whole process. He’s pretty wiggly too, and while I’d be lying if I said the movement didn’t feel nice, sometimes it makes him a little hard to swallow. Mm, he’s also loud. Like, really loud. The second he realizes he’s about to be eaten he either launches into extremely dramatic ‘oh woe is me’ mode, or starts cackling like a madman. Not great for when I’m trying to avoid attention I’ll say that much. Even after I’ve got him down he practically never stops moving or talking, even in his sleep, and it can be pretty distracting when I’m trying to study. Would not recommend eating him before a test I’ll say that much. 

14. When being a pred, do you take your time?  Or do you like to hurry the process along?

Well, I suppose I tend to take my time. That is, I don’t really like to eat someone as fast as possible often. I’ve done it before of course for games and such, but sometimes that means they’ll get stuck or I end up with a sore throat, and it just...isn’t a fun experience. But I definitely eat faster than some other friends of mine, so maybe I’m somewhere in the middle? It’s hard to say. I do enjoy savoring Ben in particular when I can though. He tastes so good and...gosh this is embarrassing, but sometimes I’ll get cravings specifically for him you know? And when that happens I definitely go a lot slower than normal. 

Okay okay now get ready for this dump of American football knowledge I gained through my extensive hour of research lol and my reasoning behind choosing #84 for James’s jersey.

So apparently, those numbers on the players jerseys actually tell you what position they play! I thought it was like, idk, a way to keep track of how many people you had in the whole team or something hwjhfdhbd but NO! 

Anyways after talking with a friend of mine who is very knowledgeable about the physical attributes you need for different sports ball positions, we decided James is a tight end. Basically, in the most basic terms possible, they’re the players that are big enough to block linebackers and defensive ends but athletic enough to run fast and catch passes. They also tend to be on the taller side. So the number on his jersey is basically just there to tell you what he plays

I think there was some change that happened in 2021 that redid the number system but honestly I don’t care that much lol. Most stuff said 80-89 is the correct range for a tight end so I went and picked 84. Idk why that number specifically, it just felt nice 

[shorkbrian]

Mirrors

Prelude - Haha Hi I've never done anything quite like this or this long (like 5k bich) but I am THORSTy and I’ve been sitting on these asks for so long I’m so sorry. ALSO to the ppl sending me the sweet gentle asks about my blog guess what??? I would D I E for you legit I read one of them this morning I almost teared up. I haven’t cried (Except for like (TW) s*ui*ide cry lol those don’t count) since like??? last year?? no joke. 

ANYWHO idk how to write a praise kink so I went with like, insecurity? but then Kiribaku likes makes the reader just melt cause they keep praising her and they bring it out during nasty times and she's GONE yeeted off the earth it makes her so hot and wet lol.

Pairing - Kiribaku X Reader

Prompt - 

Warnings - NSFW!!!! Dirty talk, my best effort at a praise kink, mirror stuff, ummmm mentions of kidnapping. DUB-CON big time, maybe technically even noncon cause reader DOES NOT want it but has just. resigned herself to being a plaything.

Music - https://youtu.be/STO4-8vkG0U 

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

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You couldn’t meet Bakugou’s eyes. HIs gaze was so intense, eyes so passionate and fierce. You were so embarrassed, aware of Kirishima’s gaze fixed on your form from where he was seated in the armchair.  

“I-I…….. don’t like it…. when you talk like that….”

“Fuckin’ what?” Bakugou barked, his brows knitting in confusion.  

“What do you mean, baby?” Kiri stood, moving to sit next to Bakugou on the couch so he could see your face.

You wiggled around uncomfortably in your spot on the floor,  where you were kneeling between Bakugou’s feet.  Kirishima had made some comment, something about how pretty you looked being so sweet for Bakugou. You were literally just sitting there, but Kiri thought you worthy of praise

“It’s not true…… I’m not-my body doesn’t look nice and I just….. every time you guys say stuff about me, all I can think of is how bad I look.”  It was hard to choke out the words, your face flushing red as your eyes filled with tears. You were so embarrassed, having to explain your insecurities to your kidnappers. It was bad enough that they dressed you up in slinky outfits, booty shorts and thin shirts that were almost see-through. You hated it, hated the way it made you feel, hated the way it made you look. It was humiliating.

“Well that’s a bunch of bullshit. I don’t go around saying shit unless it’s true.” Bakugou glared down at you. He seemed angry that you would even have that view of yourself, the foot resting on the floor by your hip beginning to tap in agitation. 

Kirishima scooted closer so he could reach you, his hand coming up to stroke your hair. “We mean what we say. You’re beautiful, such a good, obedient little girl for us.”

“No, no - please don’t say that kind of stuff!”  You were getting worked up now, tears falling freely as you hugged your arms around your body. Kirishima shared a look with Bakugou, the two men quickly deciding to drop the conversation and move on to something else.

“Tch, whatever. C’mere”  Bakugou patted his leg, prompting you to shuffle out of your kneeling position and onto his lap. You would rather not, but you knew what resistance would result in, and you’d prefer not having to nurse a sore bottom and mild burns for the next few days. Bakugou wrapped an arm loosely around your waist, tugging you closer to him on his lap. Kiri still petted your hair, pressed up against the blond man’s side as he smiled at you.

“It’s fine baby, calm down. Maybe one day you’ll see what we see.” Without leaving any room for you to argue, Kirishima planted a quick smooch on your forehead before rising from the couch. “Do you two have any preferences for dinner? I was thinking we could order something from that yakisoba place, remember Bakugou? The one Mina recommended.”

“Yeah, go for it. They have any spicy shit?”

Tuning them out, you swiped at your tears, trying to reel yourself back into a steady emotional state. You feel so weak these days, both physically and emotionally. Being held captive by the two men had worn you down, made you prone to teary outbursts. You held no control - your daily routine dictated by the men from the first day they had snatched you from your home. You were reluctant to obey, had even fought them at first, but you quickly realized it was easier (and less painful) to just do what they wanted.  

Fighting was useless.

——

Weeks had passed since your little outburst. Unfortunately, Bakugou and Kirishima weren’t willing to give up praising you every chance they got.  You had an inkling suspicion that they had upped the amount of comments they made about you ever since that day, enjoying watching you squirm and your face go bright red. It made you blush, yes. Made your heart beat a little faster, made you flounder for words if you were in the middle of speaking. But you just felt….. shame when they praised you. 

They lauded you for your obedience, how compliant you were for them. Kiri would ask you to sit down and wait at the table while he answered the door (“don’t make a sound baby.”), and you did. Bakugou would have you sit in his lap while playing video games, and you tried you’re best not to squirm. It made you almost feel sick inside, how quickly you had adjusted to being their “good girl”. You just wanted to please, didn’t want them angry at you.

What really made you blush was when they would strip you down, bend you over the nearest surface. They’d be fucking into you, fondling your body while whispering compliments in-between kisses. You never felt “beautiful” nor “delicious”, no matter how many times they told you otherwise. It was especially humiliating when one of them would take you on the bed, the other watching. You always wanted to hide, shield away your body from their prying eyes, but they never let you.

You just didn’t get it, didn’t understand what they saw when they looked at you. Staring into the bathroom mirror, all you saw were your imperfections, your insecurities.  It was shameful, pathetic. You felt entirely unworthy of the attention and love you were being showered with.

——

The boys had seemed more… energetic today, Kirishima almost seeming to bounce with each step, Bakugou smiling gently at you. It made you nervous. It made you even more nervous when Bakugou took his leave, giving both you and Kirishima a quick peck on the lips before going out the door. It was a weekend, and you knew that both men didn’t have work today. You tried asking Kirishima where Bakugou was going, but all you got out of him was a laugh and “Don’t worry about it! He’s gonna do a little bit of shopping.”

Well, at least that eased your mind a tiny bit.

You didn’t have much time to dwell on it though, Kirishima herding you into the basement.  It was the their home gym, filled with weights and machines that kept the two men strong and fit, and you weren’t usually allowed down there. If you were, it was because both of the men were present, and they could watch you while they worked out (you knew that they liked showing off for you, even if they didn’t admit it.).

But today Kiri wasn’t going down there to work out. Once the two of you made it down the steps, Kiri was pulling an exercise bench over, instructing you to lay down on it, belly up.  You did what he said.

“‘Kay, I’m gonna go upstairs to get some stuff. I want your shorts off by the time I get back, alright baby?”

You nodded.

Sighing, you shimmied your shorts down as he left. You never had to worry about underwear - they never let you wear it unless you were on your period. You knew vaguely what direction this was going in, and had already resigned yourself to getting fucked silly by the redhead. It was practically useless trying to resist.

When he came back, you were surprised. He had rope and…… a Hitachi. That was new. In the short time you’d been living with them, you had gotten used to their habits when they fucked you. Neither man was too interested in toys,  preferring to stimulate you manually, so this was an unwelcome surprise.

“Mmhm, you look so sexy baby.” Kiri kneeled down next to you, before peeling apart your thighs. He grinned at you, shark teeth flashing, before snatching up the Hitachi wand, pressing it directly against your pussy. You didn’t like where this is going. 

He didn’t turn it on, instead reaching for the rope that he had brought down. The redhead began wrapping it around your thighs, lifting your legs to encircle them with the rope. It took a few minutes, which were tense, silent as you watched him work.  He made sure to also circle the rope around your hands and torso, anchoring your arms by your side. When Kiri was finished, you were trapped, unable to move your legs, to even simply part them an inch. The Hitachi wand was still directly on your pussy, snug and unmoving. It rubbed against your clit, making you bite your lip at the delicious friction.  Kirishima gave you a flashy smile, turning to ruffle your hair. Distantly you noticed he didn’t have a shirt on.

“Alright babe, we’re gonna have some fun while we wait for Katsuki. You know what this is?” He tapped the wand nestled between your legs.

“It’s…. It’s a vibrator.” You managed, throat suddenly dry.

Kirishima seemed to beam even brighter. “Yeah! I’m gonna turn it on, let you have your fun. But you gotta tell me before you cum, okay? Think you can do that?”

A quick nod from you and the vibrator buzzed to life between your legs, Kirishima not in the mood to dawdle. Your back arched off the bench at the sensation, the pleasure quick and intense. Kirishima stayed kneeling beside you, watching you writhe as he changed the speed of the wand. 

It didn’t take long for you to cry out, “Kirishima, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. It made your shirt stick to your chest, accentuate the heaving of your breasts as panted. Right before you orgasmed though, Kiri flipped the off switch, the vibrations cutting off and leaving you hanging. Your eyes shot open, confusion furrowing you’re brow.

“Wha-Kiri? What?”

The redhead smirked, pressing a hand to your tummy to prevent you from moving against the wand, desperate for more stimulation, desperate to orgasm.

“Not yet baby, not yet.”

He patted your stomach soothingly as you stared up at him in confusion. You had been so close! Why have you tell him when you’re going to cum, only to rip that away from you??

A minute passed, then two, Kirishima still rubbing his big hand across your tummy. It was meant to be soothing, a soft gesture, but it only heated your skin, made pleasure thrum in your veins. When you had sufficiently calmed down, chest no longer heaving, Kiri reached down and flicked the wand back on, chuckling at the way you desperately ground against the rounded head of the toy.

“Mm, desperate little baby, aren’t you?” He was kissing your neck, letting his tongue slip out to lick at the skin there.  It set you on fire. Reaching the high of orgasm came even quicker this time, spurred on by your movements and determination to cum. If you didn’t tell Kirishima when you were about to, he wouldn’t be able to stop you. So you stayed silent, circling your hips as best you could, leaning into the hot kisses being pressed to your throat.

All of a sudden, the vibrator clicked off, Kirishima’s hand on your tummy once again.

“Thought you could get away with that one? You’re so cute.”

You felt like screaming, yelling out your frustration. He knew your body too well, could feel the hitch in your breath as you prepared to orgasm, felt your fingers tighten, clenching around nothing. He had stopped the vibrator right as you were beginning to feel it, the wave of pleasure. It was frustrating.

You could hardly believe you were thinking this, but you couldn’t wait for Bakugou to get back.

——

It was torture, having your orgasm slip away from you time after time. Kirishima was having fun, groping your chest, leaving sloppy kisses along your neck and collarbone. He liked seeing you struggle, almost at the point of begging and pleading with him in your need to cum.

He had been edging you for a while now, you didn’t even know how many orgasms he had yanked you away from. Kiri had just stopped you once more, turning the vibrator off and holding you still /right/ as you felt yourself letting go. You wanted to scream, on the verge of tears. But then Kirishima was glancing at his phone, stuffing it in his pocket before standing so he could untie you from the bench.

“Bakugou’s back, we’re gonna go see what he brought home for us!”

You could barely think straight, wincing when Kiri removed the vibrator pressing up against your pussy. You were drenched, pussy wet and red and puffy, your own slick covering your thighs. Kirishima helped you to your feet, guiding you into your shorts. You were too out of it to do much, simply letting the man guide and push and lift your body as he pleased. When he pressed up against you to pull your shorts snug over your hips, you felt his bulge through his shorts, poking you in the stomach.  You suppose he’d been waiting for relief too, just the same as you.

Kirishima helped you totter up the basement stairs, then guided you towards the bedroom, hand on your waist. You stumbled through the door, eyes immediately focusing on the giant mirror leaned up against the wall. How had Bakugou even gotten it through the door?  

“Damn Kiri, you’re really worked up.”

Bakugou was sitting on the bed, unlacing his shoes. Kirishima chuckled, hand leaving your waist so he could go sit beside the blonde.

“Me and her both man. Had to hold myself back, she was making such raunchy sounds.”

Their attention turned to you, both men smirking as they eyed you, Kirishima still with a prominent tent in his shorts.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ bet.”  Bakugou smirked. 

Kirishima stood, stepping languidly around you until he was at your back, broad chest pressing up against you.

“I mean, look at this -“ a hand cupped your mound, making you jump. You were still sensitive from being denied so many times, even the slightest touch had you twitching. “ - she’s fucking dripping.”

It was true, the crotch of your shorts soaked with your juices. Kiri rubbed his index finger against the seam, pressing it up and against your clit. You shuddered, hand flying up at grasp onto his arm. It felt so good, you hated his touch, didn’t want his hands on you, but oh, your body liked it.

Kirishima pushed you forward, fingers still teasing you through your wet shorts.  You gasped when you were pushed face first into the bed, bent at the waist.  A hot, blunt hardness rubbed up against you, Kiri’s hand still cupping your mound.

“You’re being such a good little bitch, letting us do whatever the fuck we want to your stupid little cunt.” 

You lifted your eyes, saw Bakugou smirking down at you as you were rocked gently by the force of Kiri’s humping. The blond was palming himself over his jeans, but your attention was quickly shifted when you felt your shorts getting ripped down, off your body.

“Step out.” You obeyed. Kirishima was hungry, lustful - voice deeper and serious now - no trace of his signature lightheartedness. He always got like this this when he was excited.  Your head was wrenched to the side, cheek mashed against the bedspread, large hand pressing and holding you in place. Belatedly, you recognized you were facing the mirror leaned against the wall, could see Kirishima’s bulk behind you, his shorts already pulled down to reveal his hard cock. If you hadn’t taken it before, you would be scared. He was thick, blunt and girthy - not to mention a considerable length. The tip was flushed red, almost purple, shiny with leaked precum and almost swollen. 

“Look at yourself in the mirror baby, you see that? How nice you look, all obedient and ready to take my cock? Such a good, sweet little girl.”

You looked so tiny compared to the redhead, the man having to bend his knees slightly to rub the head of his cock against your pussy. You tried not to moan when he focused it on your clit, rubbing it rapidly over the nub.  “Kiri - please……Aah! Let me - lemme cum..” You whined.

“God, you’re so perfect, you know that?” He breathed out a laugh, still rubbing the head of his blunt cock over your clit, hand still forcing your head to the side, making you watch his movements. You almost wanted to cry - being teased and denied for so long. You just wanted to cum, wanted to get this over quickly so you could go shower. 

Normally seeing yourself in a mirror was something you’d try to avoid, not favoring the way you looked. But now, you were mesmerized, watching through the reflection the way Kirishima’s red cock pulsed as he finally, finally slipped it into your opening. You choked on a moan as he slowly stretched you out, feeding inch after inch of his wide cock into you. In the mirror, you saw him tip his head back, groaning low in his throat when he finally bottomed out, fat balls pressed flush against you.

 “Fuck, oh god, feels so good. You’re so good, can feel your pretty little pussy trying to milk me.” He leaned down, warm chest plastered across your back as he whispered in your ear. 

“You really want this, don’t you? Such a gorgeous baby, so sexy and hot and  perfect.”

The man didn’t start out slowly, he never did. He was aggressive, unrelenting as he thrust his fat cock into you over and over. Your legs were shaking, the pleasure making you weak-kneed, your tongue lolling out of your open mouth, unable to quiet your moans. Kirishima’s pace was frenzied, excited, animalistic as he chased his own pleasure, the sound of his skin slapping against your own filling the room. It was incredible.

His dick hit all the right spots, pressing you closer and closer to your orgasm. If he didn’t let you cum this time you were going to cry.  Your could hear the lecherous, sinful sounds of your pussy squelching, milky juices getting everywhere. It coated his dick, was covering your thighs. You could feel drops of wetness being flicked everywhere on every thrust, the wet, fast slaps of his thighs against you making your stomach clench even harder.  The hand in your hair pulled up slightly, wrenching your head back in order for Kiri to give your a quick, desperate kiss - full of teeth and spit. He had hardly detached from your lips before he was mouthing at your back, spitting out filth as he did so.

“Shit, I love you so much. Wish I could be inside you all time - see how easily your body takes me? You were made for this, such a filthy little baby. Always look so tempting, always wanna fuck you, fill you up, make you squirt.” 

His words were getting to you, as you were forced to watch him pounding into you, hips snapping and tensing in an animalistic fashion. It was too much - the pleasure, his crude words, the visual of seeing yourself getting fucked, worshipped. Your eyes closed, clenching shut as you moaned over a particularly satisfying thrust. Kiri didn’t like that. The hand not holding your head against the bed slipped underneath you, immediately finding your clit, pinching at it viciously.

“Open your eyes, keep watching or else I stop.”

You wailed, eyes flying open. Kirishima was smiling, still kissing sloppily at your back as he began playing with your clit.

“You always look so tasty, can’t tell you - Fuck! - how many times I think about fucking your brains out during the day - shit, you’re so good for me.”

HIs hips stuttered as he rammed forward, signaling he was close. He wasn’t the only one - your hands clawing at the bedspread, your hips moving and twitching as you tried to grind yourself against his hand, his cock slamming into you.  His big hand rubbed you just right, and it sent a pang of sizzling pleasure trough your body.  A broken cry left you as you finally orgasmed, hot, shaking, senseless. Thank god.

The wild twitching of your pussy as you rode out your high triggered Kirishima’s own orgasm, the man burying his face between your shoulder blades as his own hips twitched wildly, humping his cock into you as he released his seed.  He was cursing, saying something, but it was muffled by the skin he caught between his teeth, making you squeal as you felt hot cum shoot into you. It took a minute for the man to slow down, thrusting through his orgasm and into the aftershocks, milking and prolonging both of your pleasure. It felt so good, so right. You were so high from the endorphins that you couldn’t even think to remember how wrong this was, how you didn’t want any of it.

Pulling out, Kirishima watched his cum begin dripping out of your cunt, pushing himself away from your back as he stood, chest heaving, body glistening with sweat. You were barely able to keep yourself up, still bent over the bed, legs wobbly and arms jelly. A separate set of hands pulled you to the side, and you let yourself be manhandled, pulled and situated in Bakugou’s lap, his chest to your back.

You had forgotten about Bakugou.

His jeans were off, along with his boxers. His shirt was gone too, thrown somewhere on the floor. The blond ripped at the shirt still plastered to your chest, the fabric giving in easily to his strength. You couldn’t bring yourself to care as it shredded right through the middle, freeing your tits. It’s not like it hid anything anyways.

“Jesus, that was so fuckin’ hot, watching Kiri pound into you like that. Look at yourself, leaking everywhere like a damn hose. You like having Kiri’s cum sliding out of your soggy little cunt?” 

His chin hooked over your shoulder and he directed your gaze forward. 

There was another mirror.

It was leaned up against the far wall, allowing you a perfect view of your sweaty, debauched body as Bakugou spread you legs, hooking your knees over his own so he could force your thighs even further apart. Oh god.

He was hard as a rock, moving your body around on his lap so his dick pressed up against the outside of your pussy, cum still escaping from your hole. You were exhausted, body limp and pliant - you didn’t know if you could go another round.

Bakugou didn’t care.

A harsh slap had you crying out, a sharp “Ah!”  Filling the room. Bakugou slapped your slit again, and you tried to curl in on yourself, protect yourself from the abuse on your sensitive pussy. The blond slithered a hand around your chest, reaching up to grip your throat lightly.

“Stop that. Fucking look at this shit. See how sloppy your pussy is? Everytime I do this - “ He delivered another quick slap, and you writhed on his lap, which caused you to push against the hard cock nestled between your thighs. “ - You let more cream out.”

Without saying anything more, Bakugou shoved the hand not around your throat under your thigh, lifting you up just enough so he could slip his dick into you. HIs cock was less girth than Kirishima’s - it was  about the same length but a more manageable size. He had been jacking off while watching Kiri fuck you, so his length was already coated in a layer of his spit and precum. That, combined with the cum already drenching your insides,  meant he met virtually no resistance as he thrust up slowly.

You writhed, the hand at your throat and at your thigh keeping you steady in his lap. Kirishima was on the floor, leaning his back against the bed as he watched the two of you in the mirror, still panting and calming down from his intense orgasm. 

There wasn’t any time to adjust, to ask Bakugou to wait, you’re too sensitive to go again! He was more relaxed than Kirishima, more controlled and languid in his thrusting. He rolled his hips, bouncing you gently in his lap as he forced you to keep your head straight, despite your efforts to turn away from the mirror showing your own reflection. You looked absolutely filthy - face flushed, tits bouncing, Bakugou’s hard cock drilling into you. You couldn’t help but moan, the sight stirring up something, some heated feeling inside your tummy.You liked watching them fuck you.

“Goddamn, every single time feels so fucking good. Shit, shit shit shit - it’s like you were made for us!”

He sounded so gleeful, so truthful. You unconsciously clenched around his length, feeling tingly as his thrusts ground deep, hit every single spot that made a sweet zing of  bliss race through your body.

“Ah, ah fuck, you finally get it? You see what we’re fuckin’ on about when we say you look so damn delicious? Shit, I wanna take a bite outta you, so juicy and ripe and fucking perfect.”

Bakugou was out of breath, his voice deep as he growled at you.  You grabbed at the arm around your chest, his thighs, his hair - anything to anchor yourself as his balls papped against you. You could hear someone moaning, whining and sobbing, was that you?

Kirishima had recovered, moving to kneel between Bakugou’s and your own spread legs. “Bakugou, you two look so good together.” That seemed to spur the blond on, his thrusts speeding up as he grunted. You screamed when you felt  a wet muscle swip at your clit, looking down to see Kirishima grinning up at you, his tongue hanging out. On each thrust, he was licking at Bakugou’s cock, and then at your clit right above him, making you wiggle and spasm as you tried to escape the intense sensation.

“Kiri, Kir- stop! Stop, please I can’t! Stop, stop stop stop!”

You were pushing at his head, albeit weakly, but you were trying to move him away, becoming frantic as the combined efforts of the two men overwhelmed you, had you throwing your head back against Bakugou’s shoulder and gasping. Bakugou snickered, before plunging his tongue into your open mouth, stealing a kiss. You whined, scrabbling at his arms, Kirishima’s hair, trying to get away but simultaneously trying to bring the two of them closer. It felt so /good/, you didn’t even have the words to describe how heavenly and lascivious and filthy you were feeling. 

“Hah, you’re so wet, you hear yourself? Sloppy girl. Taking me so well, shit, so goddamn good.”

You could indeed, hear yourself. On every thrust of Bakugou’s, your pussy squelched, greedily sucking him in. It was absolutely filthy, hearing your juices and Kiri’s cum sloshing together as Bakugou shoved his cock into you, again and again. You could hear Kirishima slurping at your cunt with fervor, could tell by the slick sounds and rhythmic movement of his arm that he was frantically jerking himself off as he lapped at the point where Bakugou’s hot flesh met your own.  It was hot, not only in temperature. 

“C’mon baby, let it out, let me taste you. Wanna see you clenching around Katsuki’s cock like the good, sweet little girl you are.”

Kirishima’s words hand you reeling, and the second his lips went back to attacking your clit, you were gone. It almost hurt, how tense your muscles became, squeezing an agonizingly delicious orgasm out of you. Bakugou felt you release, his thrusts speeding up as Kirishima kept his tongue out, laving at Bakuguo’s cock as he hammered into your clenching cunt. You were crying, twisting In Bakugou’s hold as you were quickly overstimulated, shrieking as you were left with no respite.

It didn’t take long for Bakugou to cum, spurred on by your writhing and tears, the way you were begging and pleading and sobbing, imploring the men to stop. With a guttural moan, the blond gave on last thrust, shooting his seed into you, hot ropes of cum filling you up. Kirishima was still licking around Bakugou’s cock, catching the cum and slick that squeezed it’s way past the cock plugging you up.

You shivered, relaxing against the hard chest behind you as Kirishima eventually stopped lapping at you, his own arm still. He had cum again at some point, pumping his cock into his own fist. Bakugou pressed a gentle kiss behind your ear, panting hotly against the shell.

“Fuuuuuck-“ he whined out “- that was amazing.”

“Mhmm.” Kiri hummed his agreement, slowly standing. The redhead flopped down on the bed, crawling up to sprawl out on one side, head resting against a pillow. Bakugou slipped out of you with no warning, your sudden gasp as you felt wet drip out of you making him chuckle. He maneuvered your lax body onto the bed, next to Kirishima, before pressing himself up behind you, trapping your body between the two men. You were too tired to feel gross, to mind the wet slide of your thighs as you shifted into a more comfortable position. Kirishima threw an arm around your waist, leaning up on his elbow to hover over and across you, stealing a kiss from Bakugou. Then he was stealing one from you, wet mouth connected to your own. 

You didn’t fight.

When he flopped back down, you breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like you could finally relax as the two men stayed silent, all three of you exhausted, fucked out. 

This was only the tip of the ice berg. 

If you knew how often and intensely the men intended to fuck you near the mirrors, you would probably pass out. They just wanted to show you what they saw in you. It had been two of the strongest orgasms you had experienced in a while, but there was no way you’d admit it was because of their praising and insistence  on making you watch yourself getting railed by them.

For now, you let yourself drift into a comfortable doze, let the heat of the two bodies caging you in keep you warm, keep you trapped.

Why bother fighting? 

There was no escape.

[bigskydreaming]

And one more bit from the “Kings of the Sky” AU albeit several installments in, because I just......don’t know when or why I stumbled into an obsession with the dynamics between Dick and Jason and Cass as the eldest three Wayne siblings, but its there, its real, and its happening. I’ve stopped fighting it. I just....enjoy writing those three being dumb siblings who are dumb like so, so much.

Anyway, in this AU series, Jason doesn’t go to Ethiopia and die, but rather eventually joins Dick at Titans Tower more regularly and is Flamebird. Both are closer with Bruce here than in canon because Dick helped Bruce and Jason get through the Garzonas stuff and Jason helped kick Bruce in the direction of Dick and adoption papers right after the Brother Blood storyline. Then Cass is actually the third to join the family, by way of Babs, and she’s Batgirl and then Black Bat, but there’s a period of time when its just Dick, Jason and Cass as the Wayne kids. 

(PS - this is the same series as where Jason ends up with his own age group of Titans, and accidentally falls into a love quadrangle of doom that is absolutely NOT a polycule dammit, with Tom Bronson (Tomcat), Ray Terrill (The Ray) and Todd Rice (Obsidian). Which amuses his brother and sister to no end).

Tim and Duke are both next, but sorta at the same time? Like Tim’s story takes a sharp turn when Robin II never dies and obviously is Flamebird now like Robin I is Nightwing, and Tim winds up in foster care after his parents die differently than in canon. Duke is also in foster care at this time, though a different placement, and while no Robin has died here, its been awhile since there’s been one in Gotham, and to kids who grew up with the idea of there always being a Robin, that feels weird and wrong ultimately. 

So Tim and Duke both hit on the idea of being Robin like, at around the same time and totally disconnected from one another, and that leads to them both joining the Batfam around the same time, and co-sharing Robin until Damian arrives much later and they both move on to new identities. But there’s no real confusion between Robins because Duke is the daytime Robin with more yellow coloring in his costume and Tim is the nighttime Robin with more red, and people say Red or Yellow if they ever need to differentiate which Robin they’re talking about. Anyway.

************

So [Tim and Duke] run into trouble eventually and then when running from trouble they run into each other and they’re like….huh. Awkward. And then they decide well, might as well both run from trouble in the same direction, I guess. So they do.

“Did you have a plan for dealing with these guys?” Tim yelled at Duke. The other boy looked back over his shoulder briefly and gave what would probably have been a half-shrug if he didn’t awkwardly try to barrel-roll over a car two seconds later.

“Umm, sorta?”

“How sorta are we talking about? Maybe the two of us together could fill in the gaps in the plan and come up with one full plan?”

“Uh yeah, no, its not that kinda sorta. I meant sorta in the sense that I thought I had a plan but it didn’t work and that’s why these guys are after me. Sooooo…”

“Not helpful, basically.”

“Yeah. Pretty much. And hey, I don’t hear you offering up a plan! Did you even have one at all?”

“Uh….I mean I kinda didn’t think I was going to need one because I figured some kid running around in a mask making a nuisance of himself was the sorta thing that was bound to attract Batman. And so I was just pretty much running around until that happened, and then I’d make a case for how I obviously need training and Gotham needs Robin and if its not me its likely to be someone else trying eventually anyway so why not be me?”

Duke paused just long enough to squint at him. “That’s a terrible plan.”

Tim rolled his eyes. The effort didn’t pair well with his huffing and over-all exertions from running for his life and all that, but necessity demanded. “Yeah I know, that’s why I never said it was a plan! It was mostly….more…idea-ish.”

“I’m just saying, I thought I was doing this wrong, but at least I had a plan! I mean yeah, it might have ended up with me accidentally busting in on what I thought was a bunch of Riddler’s henchmen setting up some kind of clue thing, only it was actually a bunch of Intergang type guys with alien space guns or some shit all dressed up as Riddler henchmen for some reason? I dunno what they were trying to do honestly, but so yeah I might have ended up running away on foot from like twenty of them and some kind of hovercycle -”

“I’m going to cut you off there and say wherever this is going its probably not the superior vantage point I think you think you have.”

Meanwhile, Batman was not going to be coming because he’s off on a JLA mission. However, in his absence Dick and Jason are in town filling in, and they finished taking out the bad guys several blocks back and caught up to whomever was running from them, figured out the situation and are currently sitting on the edge of a rooftop watching them realize they’re totally lost and trying to figure out where to go from here. Mostly because Dick and Jason are incredibly amused listening to their back and forth and also just…this whole situation.

Dick justifies not piping up to let them know they’re safe now by saying this is good intel gathering so we can offer Bruce our assessment as to whether they’re gonna try and keep doing this whether we train them or not, and also how they handle this whole being lost situation. Not knowing they don’t have to run anymore isn’t going to hurt them and really, this is a good field exercise almost.

Jason justifies not piping up by saying this is fucking hilarious and I will hurt you if you end this any sooner than we have to, I deserve this, I had a rough week.

Which is right around the time that Cass pipes up from where she’s been lurking unnoticed behind them this whole time: “Oh no. Was it Tom? Or Ray? Or was it Todd?”

And she does it right in Jason’s ear so he kinda aborted-shrieks and almost falls off the roof except Cass is ready for that and grabs his arm to steady him.

“I hate when you do that!” Jason growls in an attempt to cover up how badly she got him and also because he hates when she does it which is why she does it a lot. Again, they don’t hate each other at all, but they do seem to act like it a lot, and neither of them is entirely sure why. They kinda just started doing it and have each been trying to get the other back ever since and ended up locked in an unending spiral of gotcha-gotchaback, except, y’know, Batfam style.

Dick occasionally picks sides just to muddy the waters. And then he randomly switches sides without warning, so neither of them ever wants to risk getting too peeved at him even when he’s helping the other, because that might push him fully over to the other side and leave them permanently outnumbered, so they’re kinda stuck, which is exactly as he likes it, lol.

“Why are you Satan,” Jason hisses dramatically as he gets up and stomps over to the other side of the roof to sulk, lest she almost knock him off again. Its not the almost falling part that bothers him, its that she’s the one that snatches him to safety each time. She’s like a freaking cat toying with a - yeah not going there, just blaming Selina. Knew them hanging out was going to be bad news for me somehow, he gripes.

Cass just shrugs and smoothly sits down cross-legged right where she is, grinning Cheshire-cat style at him from there. “Childhood trauma,” is her answer.

“Great, and now you’re stealing my comeback on top of it?! Is nothing sacred to you?”

She offers another shrug. He would like to return those for store credit please. Maybe get something useful instead. “Haven’t decided yet. Babs is still helping me explore my options. We’re going alphabetically and we’re only on  the E-religions.”

“God, you’re the worst. I can’t believe you ruined sisters for me.”

“You already used that same line last week when you came out of your room still half-asleep and she was just sitting directly across from your door waiting and staring unblinking and you yelped and dropped your laptop on your toe, and then cursed so loud that B came running around the hall thinking we were being invaded,” Dick reported idly, still perched in the same position he’d been in all along and watching the boys below them. “Just in case you thought no one noticed when you recycle.”

“I noticed too,” Cass added solemnly.

“I have no siblings,” Jason intoned. He threw up his hands dramatically and then loudly jumped down to the street below with a little help from the fire escape. It drew both Duke and Tim’s attention and they startled before realizing it was Flamebird. And that he’d landed on the street and was stalking past them while barely acknowledging them. And that that was Nightwing standing on the roof now with his hands on his hips yelling after him.

“Oh, reeeeeeal subtle. You’re not having fun anymore so you gotta make sure nobody else does either. Wow, the Brat-like behavior, just jumped out of the shadows with that one!”

And that was Flamebird not even turning around and just yelling back. “I HAVE NO SIBLINGS!”

And also they were both pretty sure that was Batgirl crouched on the roof next to Nightwing now, and she was…..sticking her tongue out at Flamebird’s back? No, Batgirl very much definitely was sticking out her tongue, that wasn’t in doubt, it was more just….very unexpected to see.

What was happening right now?

********

Eventually Tim and Duke have inevitably worn down [Bruce’s] resistance to training them by insisting they’re gonna keep doing this and if its not them its gonna be someone sooner or later anyway. Because, as they put it, you guys may not know this but Gotham’s gotten used to Robins by now and it freaks people out not to see one and Robin’s as important as Batman really and there needs to be a Robin and its not just us that will think that, like look at the fact that already two of us had the exact same idea, huh? And also, we’re gonna keep doing it anyway, sooooo….there’s that.

And then Cass vouches that they’re both 100% serious about that.

And then Dick vouches that as a former determined daredevil kid that was absolutely going to keep doing the same thing no matter whether you’d helped me or not, B, I also am of the assessment that these two mean it all the way.

And not to be left out and just to have something to contribute but also grumpy because his brother and sister are picking on him and he’s eighteen going on ten, Jason throws in: “And my assessment is that they both definitely seem dumb enough to keep doing this without help anyway and they definitely need help or they definitely will die, I’d give it a month, month and a half tops.”

And then Bruce dryly thanks his children for their contributions, their keen insights in this matter have been absolutely invaluable, he has no idea how he would make a decision here without it.

“Oooh, a rare sighting of Bat-snark in the wild. Someone call Nat-Geo quick, maybe he’ll do it again,” Dick says.

Bruce sighs. Duke and Tim look like they’re trying to decide if they’re allowed to be amused or if that’s also part of some weird Bat-test that they’re probably taking without even knowing it.

So Tim and Duke move in, start training together, and then also get sent to school together and it takes a month or so of settling in before they decide whether or not they actually are happy about this. There’s a period of deciding they’re supposed to be bitter rivals who snipe at each other back and forth across the dining table at every available opportunity, but that changes the first night Dick and Jason come back from the Tower since Tim and Duke have moved in and where Cass is also home instead of at the Clocktower with Babs.

Since all three of the older Batkids, upon seeing Tim and Duke squabble at dinner, decide to obnoxiously coo about how adorable it is watching the kids play. Which pretty instantly cements Duke and Tim as realizing their best chance of surviving the sudden acquisition of three older superhero ninja foster siblings who all can be as obnoxious as they are dangerous but also as much as they are - Duke and Tim are convinced - all quite insane.

A belief further cemented the next morning, with all three of them having spent the night at the Manor as well. Treating Duke and Tim to their first Saturday morning episode of the Cass and Jason show.

In this episode, Jason emerged from his bedroom in his pajamas still but warily peeking his head out first to look both ways down the hall before deciding it was clear…..and then makes it just almost to the end of the hallway leading to the stairs, when Cass drops down from where she’d been waiting perched above the other side of the door, in such a way as to suddenly fill the doorway just in front of him, hanging upside down suspending herself just with her feet wedged above the doorway, all while keeping her hands crossed her chest, a dead-eyed expression on her face, and with her tongue hanging out like she’s some kind of vampire hanging upside down in mid-slumber.

Jason shrieked and stumbled back a foot before catching himself and shoving two fingers in a cross shape in her direction.

“Demon! DEMON! Goddammit, I abjure thee, that’s supposed to fucking do something about having a demon sister, now what the fuck does it take to banish you!?”

“Can’t be banished,” Cass informed him, still upside down. “Can be bought though.”

Jason halted. “What?”

“I’m really surprised you never figured it out,” Dick said from his room further down the hallway. He was leaning against the doorjamb, arms casually crossed.

“Why did you think she never goes after me?”

Jason swiveled back and forth between his siblings suspiciously, trying to scry both their inscrutable (and in Cass’ case, still upside down) faces for signs they were telling the truth. “You’re telling me that Little Miss Monstrous has been a pain in my ass from day one and the reason she’s never so much as eked a single boo in your direction is you’ve been bribing her all this time?”

Dick shrugged. “Its all about getting in on the ground floor.”

Jason squinted, still unconvinced. “Nuh-uh. No way. You’re just fucking with me. Like if this is for real, what have you been buying her off with?”

Dick smiled beatifically. “Cuddles and hugs.”

“NO! NO! Bullshit! I am NOT falling for this crap again, you are not gonna get me this way this time. I call BS, fuck you, nuh uh, you’re lying out your ass and your ass-face both.”

“Wait, what is this ‘this’ that I did before? What ever are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“Is this about the Care Bear you had when you were fifteen?”

“Shut upppppppppppppppp, I didn’t have a Care Bear then, you’re such a - “

“Oh, I dunno, I’m preeeeetty sure there’s some holiday photos from that year that would say otherwise, pretty definitively in the form of you and your Care Bear….”

“That I only had because you literally just gave it to me as a present solely so that you could claim that I had a Care Bear when I was fifteen, you douchebag!”

“Just because I gave you the Care Bear didn’t mean you had to keep the Care Bear and hold the Care Bear and love the Care Bear, Jay. You chose to do all that.”

“I only kept the damn thing because you’re an asshole who lied about it being a family heirloom so I felt like I had to or I’d be a total jerk. Is nothing sacred to you?”

“I didn’t lie! It is a treasured family heirloom! Its the first Care Bear I gave to my little brother to teach him the important and valuable lesson that Care Bears - say it with me now - “

“Finish that sentence and they will never find your body.”

“CARE!” Cass shrieked from behind him before jumping on Jason’s back and bearing him down to the floor in an undignified tangle as she splayed atop him like a starfish and he stared up at the ceiling in a kind of strangled frozen fury, like there was so much emotion he wanted to process he’d overheated and now was stuck like that until he cooled down.

That was when Dick leaned over him and solemnly added one final thought, as though it was a crucial addition of the gravest importance:: “A lot.”

Jason’s eye twitched.

Dick’s eyes went wide in response. “Uh oh. He went to the Danger Zone. Run Cass. We’ve unleashed the dogs of war!”

Cass was off and on her feet in a second, taking off down the hall like a rocket. “Not the dogs of war!” She yelled.

Dick was only seconds behind her when behind him, Jason rose like an eruption, growling wordlessly and sparks practically flashing from his suddenly flinty eyes. He charged after them like an enraged bull.

“Kenny Loggins wouldn’t want this!” Dick yelled over his shoulder as he rounded the doorway and vanished. Jason rounded it in hot pursuit.

“Poison Ivy won’t even be able to make compost from what’s left of you when I’m through!”

The yelling and running vanished into the distance. Duke and Tim finally looked at each other blankly.

“What?” Tim asked. Duke shrugged helplessly.

A door opened at the end of the hallway. Bruce stuck his head out. “Is it safe?”

Tim just stared at him.

“What?” Duke asked.

**************

LOL mostly I just want to get to the tail end of the series, when Dick and Jason go undercover as supervillains in the Society of well, Supervillains....Dick as War Shrike and Jason as Gray Jay. (A kind of bird usually known for or referenced as being thieving and unpredictable and unexpectedly dangerous despite its size. Jason never went into the Lazarus Pit here and so isn’t as huge as he is in canon, he’s on the smaller side due to his early life’s malnutrition. Living with Bruce helped him catch up enough that he’s not TINY tiny, but he’s still smaller enough that this particular mantle fits him a little better than it would his massive canon depiction).

Cass also partakes in the undercover storyline, just showing up uninvited in a persona she’s crafted for the mission and calls Black Swan. And War Shrike and Gray Jay are both so startled and obviously a little freaked by her unexpected arrival, that combined with her being ticked at her brothers for leaving her behind, RUDE, and them sufficiently cowed and guilted by her wrath, that it all adds up to the other villains as being clear evidence that she is the boss and they are her advance minions. 

Which mollifies and satisfies Cass immensely, and leaves Jason grumpy that their mission was hijacked and also his sister is The Worst, and leaves Dick temporarily disgruntled because This Whole Thing Was His Idea DAMMIT but then five seconds later finding it hilarious because Dick is a chaos connoisseur and he has an appreciation for whimsy and the unexpected.

“I can’t believe you not only gate-crashed our extremely sensitive and delicate undercover operation, but you completely hijacked it as well! This is so typical,” Jason grouched.

Cass simply swept ahead of him and strode down the hallway with lethal grace. “Silence minion.”

Jason spluttered behind her and she grinned to herself. He really made it too easy sometimes.

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 9]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; blowjob, dirty talk/mild degradation, sir!kink, name calling, fingering, v v v v mild impregnation kink,  filming/sex tapes, fucking in public, dom!seungcheol, uh oh is trouble is brewing in this chapter??? He h, , 😏, again thank you for your continued support! 🥺💕 and can I also say that not giving myself a chapter limit on this bad boy is really letting me ramble? LOL this was meant to be a short chapter and I cut it off right before the meaty bits(you’ll know where) but I was like no I'll give my readers a nice weekend gift instead of another cliffhanger 😌🍒 have a nice weekend bbys! ily!! 💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - ?

You wake up earlier than Seungcheol by 45 minutes; sleepy eyes sweeping across the quiet apartment.

The sound of his soft snoring lures you towards the sofa; softly tiptoeing your way over until you hover just above him.

“‘Cheol…” He sighs softly, adjusting from his side to his back as you grin. You round the sofa, swinging your leg gently until you can sit on top of his thighs.

Seungcheol grunts softly at this; blurry eyes blinking open until they focus on your figure. “Wuh--what?” His voice is much deeper and much more gravelly in the morning and it sends your body into overdrive, goosebumps rising on your skin when his hands immediately find purchase on your thighs. “What are you doing so early in the morning?”

“Nothin’~ Just thought I’d say thank you for last night, s’all…” You mumble.

“Lemme get my phone so I--”

“No!” A blush sweeps across your cheeks, hands peeling back the blanket that covers Seungcheol until his naked chest and boxer briefs are in view. “No, I--I don’t want to film this. I just want you to enjoy it... ” Whispering, your hands travel down his torso; admiring his toned body. “I think you deserve it after everything you’ve done for me.”

His cock throbs as he watches you, slow and unhurried in your movements when you palm him over his boxer briefs. “We have 45 minutes before you need to start getting ready for work~ Think of it as… morning exercise~” You giggle, squeezing his cock as he groans.

“Fuck, for who, exactly?”

You pout down at him, fingertips tugging his underwear down until his cock curves against his abdomen. “You can burn calories when you cum, y’know!” Seungcheol laughs breathily; sleepy eyes peering up at you as you wrap a delicate hand around his cock. “I mean, it’s not a lot but it’s still something~”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

His morning voice has you biting your lip; pussy clenching around emptiness when you start to imagine how much deeper it could possibly get in the right scenario.

But for now, you focus on Seungcheol as you run your hand up and down his cock; palm wet with precum. “Is it weird to wake up with a boner in the morning?” Seungcheol sputters; a choked laugh on his lips.

“To be fair, it’s rather normal.”

“Huh… can’t imagine.”

It falls into comfortable silence, only the sounds of Seungcheol’s breathy moans in the otherwise quiet space.

You lick your lips, re-adjusting yourself until you’re kneeling between his legs instead. “Can’t be making a mess on your nice sofa, right?”

Seungcheol smirks down at you, resting his arms behind his head. “Better swallow it all, babygirl. If I even see a drop on the sofa, you know what happens, right?” His voice is eerily sweet and sends thrums of arousal down your spine.

“Yes, sir~”

He grits his teeth at ‘sir’; eyes fixated on your tongue when you start to softly lap at the precum that dribbles from the head of his cock. “God, this just makes me think of all the things I wanted to say to you last night.”

You peer up at him through your lashes, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. “Whaddya wanna say?” Your words are slurred together as you continue to lap at his cock; lips wrapping around his cock head as you swallow around him.

“Ngh, sh--shit, I--God, you were so fuckin’ cute taking my cock for the first time. And I wanted to praise you for takin’ me so well for the first time too. But I know I couldn't say that on camera.” He lets out a shaky breath when he feels you slowly start to take more of his cock into your mouth.

“You were so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ filthy when you fingered yourself with my cum...”

You moan around his cock which in turn sends goosebumps rising on his skin. “Fuck, I’m---I’m not gonna last long…” He warns; hips already thrusting up into your mouth as you continue to swallow around him. You pull off of his cock for a second, wrapping your hand around him again as you start to pump your hand up and down again.

“You can cum whenever you want~ And maybe next time just cum inside me too!” You pout.

Seungcheol nods just as you wrap your lips around him again; this time using your hand on the rest of his cock that doesn’t fit in your mouth.

His breaths get quicker and he feels his abdomen tightening by the second, only a choked noise as a warning before he’s cumming in your mouth.

You let out a surprised yelp as you immediately start swallowing the warm cum, hollowing your cheeks around him as you work him through his high.

He whispers your name a few seconds later and you pull off of him again, licking at your chapped lips. “Good?”

Seungcheol nods back, laughing lightly at your disheveled appearance.

“Good.”

“Hey hyung! Hey hyung!”

Seungcheol turns around, cheeks already aflame when he meets Jeongguk’s inquisitive stare. “Yes, ‘Guk?”

The younger male slides a candy bar across the concession stand’s counter top, eyebrows wiggling. “Say, do you need a cameraman?”

“What.”

Jeongguk lets out an exasperated sigh, “Y’know, someone to help… film. Get your good angles. You know what I mean?” He slides the candy bar further towards Seungcheol’s direction. “I’m your man, y’know? I got you, hyung.”

Seungcheol can only grimace in return, swiping the candy bar off of the counter top before he turns to leave. “I don’t think that’ll ever happen but on the offset chance it does, I’ll be sure to let you know. And for the record, one candy bar is not going to sway me.” Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head as he starts to walk away.

“Hey, wait!”

“Yeah?”

Jeongguk ushers him back; wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he leans in. “Me and a few of my buddies are going clubbing tomorrow night. It’s nothing major, just a few drinks after work but did you wanna come? You can bring your sweet babygirl with you.” He snickers, watching as the blush travels up to Seungcheol’s ears.

“I’ll see if she wants to come but I’m not promising anything, okay?”

“Hey man, a ‘maybe’ is good enough for me! Y’know, I specifically planned for Thursday ‘cause I knew you’d be busy on Friday, what with your new… career and all.”

The older male bites his lip; Jeongguk had no idea of the video. Yet.

“Uh, right. Anyways, I gotta go before Namjoon gets my ass for not cleaning the skates. I’ll talk to you later.”

Seungcheol makes it home in record speed; this time flinging the door open as he kicks his shoes off. “I’m back!”

Mild confusion crosses his features when he smells food cooking, shuffling into the kitchen as he sees your figure setting up plates of food. “I hope you don’t mind! I cracked open those cookbooks for dinner… Thought I’d try to be helpful around here!”

You shoot him a smile as you make your way into the living room where you set down the plates of food onto the coffee table. “Also… because we have to review this video before I can post it and I know how awkward that can be for the first time so I thought I’d soften the blow a little.”

“Guess that’s fair!” Seungcheol settles in next to you, a soft chuckle on his lips. “Hey, wanna hear something funny that happened at work today?”

“I’m scared, but sure!”

“Jeongguk offered to help us film.” You immediately choke on your food, setting down your plate as you try to catch your breath. “He--he w-what?” Seungcheol can only nod as he shovels another forkful into his mouth.

“Yeah, said somethin’ ‘bout getting my good angles ‘n stuff. Told him I don’t think we’d get that desperate for extra hands but that if we did, I’d let him know.”

This time you can’t stop the laughter that pours out of you; a soft blush on your cheeks. “Wow, I--I’m a little flattered, to be honest. Maybe once we’re more comfortable, we can enlist his help!”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, panic clear in his eyes when he meets your cheery expression. “Wait, seriously? You wouldn’t mind him being here and filming for us? Wouldn’t that be weird?” Giggling in return, you pick up your plate again, picking at it as you stare back at Seungcheol.

“I mean, think about it, I’ve always filmed alone for the longest time until I met you. And now I’m getting to explore so many new things, also thanks to you. Having someone film for me… That---That just opens a lot of possibilities, is all. Obviously, neither of us are comfortable with it now but who knows, right? Maybe once we’re billionaires off of making sex tapes, we can afford a whole team of people~!”

“Wow, do I really sound like that?”

Seungcheol grimaces in embarrassment as he watches the video with you. “I told you it’d be embarrassing the first time!”

His shaky eyes focus back onto the screen, mouth agape as he watches his cock sinking into your pussy. “Fuck, I didn’t think it’d be this hot but… I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen… Not to toot my own horn or anything.” He mumbles.

“It’s okay to be proud of yourself, ‘Cheol! Confidence is a good thing and it takes a lot to film this kinda stuff anyway.”

You check to see how much of the video is left, noting it’s almost close to the end. “I think we did good and nothing’s out of place or too much. Is it okay with you to upload?” Seungcheol nods, “Seems good to me! I mean we cut off the beginning so it’s cleaned up, right?”

“Mmhmm!”

You start on uploading the video, biting the inside of your cheek as you slightly turn to face Seungcheol. “I don’t know what to title the video…” You mutter; sliding the laptop towards him as he furrows his brow in thought. His fingertips glide across the keyboard before he slides the laptop back in your direction.

‘daddy makes me take his big cock as punishment after i misbehave…’

“Don’t judge me, it’s just--s-similar titles I’ve seen before.” You laugh in response, getting back into uploading and adding various tags and a video description. “It’s what gets the people!”

“Speaking of people…” Seungcheol pauses, unsure. “Uh, feel free to say no but Jeongguk invited us out for drinks tomorrow night. Said it’s just a few of his friends. I told him I’d ask you but if you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to go.”

You contemplate your options, watching as the upload progress on the video goes up. “I mean… why not? I haven’t gone out for drinks in a loooong time, so it might be fun! We can always bail if it gets weird.”

Seungcheol nods as he gets up from the sofa, stretching. “Okay, I’ll come back after work to come get you and so I can get changed and then we’ll meet up with ‘Guk and his friends at the club.” The video finishes rendering and you quickly hit the ‘upload’ button before you smile up at Seungcheol.

“Sounds good!”

Thursday’s workday comes and goes quicker than Seungcheol thinks and he actually finds himself excited to go out for once.

“See you in a bit, Seungcheol-hyung!” Jeongguk waves him off from behind the concession stand, a bright smile on his lips. “Ah, yeah! I’ll meet you at the club! Don’t forget to turn off the slushie machine this time!”

He makes his way out to his car after he clocks out, humming as he goes. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he reaches for his phone as he turns the key to start the car.

“Hello?”

“Hey baby, just wanted to let you know I’m heading back. ‘Guk is off of work in about 30 minutes so don’t feel rushed to get ready.”

“Okay~ See you soon, ‘Cheol!”

“I’m home!”

“Welcome back!”

You meet Seungcheol at the door, already dressed in a short red dress and heels. “Well? How do I look?” You spin for him, showing off your outfit.

“Wow, that----that’s quite an outfit.” He exhales, “You look incredible.”

“Thanks! I’m actually pretty excited!” Seungcheol mimics your excitement as he crosses the space towards you, arm wrapped around your waist as he pulls you in close. “Mm, I’m excited too. Maybe if we’re lucky, we can see how well this dress looks on the floor too?”

“If we’re lucky~”

When you and Seungcheol get to the club, it’s somewhat empty in front.

“Seems about right for a Thursday, I guess.” Seungcheol offers, wrapping an arm around your waist again. “It’s kind of a dead part of town too, so this doesn’t surprise me.” He laughs, “Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten our hopes up.”

“Heyyyy, don’t be such a party pooper!”

The two of you turn to find Jeongguk with another male walking up the sidewalk. “Just ‘cause it’s a little empty doesn’t mean we can’t drink!” Seungcheol jokingly rolls his eyes as he tugs you in closer.

“You better watch yourself this time ‘cause you’re on your own. I didn’t drive and I’ve got this ‘lil lady to take care of.”

Jeongguk grins widely, shuffling closer towards the two of you. “Speaking of… Great video. Fuckin’ impeccable. I can’t believe hyung is packin’. Well, I can but whew, seeing it like that? Surprised you’re still walkin’ around.”

Oh, shit. The video!

You and Seungcheol share a panicked look; neither of you had even bothered to look at the video once it’d been uploaded, which meant that you had absolutely no idea how it was doing or what people were saying. “Ah, haha, ye--yeah! T--thanks for watching…” You mumble, suddenly shy.

Jeongguk wraps an arm around the unknown male’s shoulders, nodding in thought. “Had to give my support so you know I dropped a few bills in donations.” He tips his imaginary hat towards Seungcheol, winking. “Fantastic work, Seungcheol-hyung.”

“Shouldn’t we also be praising the lovely Cherry for her performance as well?” The unnamed male smiles widely, eyes forming crescents. “You’re pretty on camera but you’re just stunning in person.”

“I---uh, do I… Know you?”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow slightly at the male, finding him somewhat familiar despite never meeting him before.

“Well, maybe? I’ve commented and donated a few times. My name’s Jimin. Or ‘j__min’ if that’s how you know me.” He adds a wink and a slight smirk, eyes twinkling when he focuses his attention towards Seungcheol. “And I have a feeling, I know who you are too. Although as far as I knew, the two of you had never met before. Correct me if I’m wrong?”

Seungcheol doesn’t immediately want to get hostile over nothing, so he untenses his jaw; eyes dancing over to you. “It’s.. a long story. And yes, your assumptions are right. But you can just call me Seungcheol.”

You and Jeongguk can feel the tenseness in the air as the four of you stand outside of the club and you share a look that screams ‘let’s change the subject’. “Oooookay, now that we’ll all introduced, let’s go drink!” 

“Hey, wait...” Seungcheol starts, “I thought you said a couple of friends? Where’s everyone else?” Jeongguk pouts, sighing. 

“They bailed. Said they didn’t wanna drink on a Thursday so it’s just the four of us!”Jeongguk all but drags Jimin towards the entrance, leaving you and Seungcheol alone.

“You okay, ‘Cheol?”

“I should be asking you that, baby.” He chuckles under his breath, shooting you a lopsided smile. “Guess this town is smaller than I thought.”

You laugh in return, wrapping your arms around his midsection as you tug him towards the entrance. “Hey, it’s okay! He doesn’t seem like a bad guy. Maybe a ‘lil sleazy but y’know.” The two of you share a laugh as you get through security; fingers linked together.

“If he tries anything, just let me know.” Nodding, you lead Seungcheol to a table that Jeongguk and Jimin are already sitting at, sliding into the seats across from them. “Holy fuck, you already got drinks?!” You exclaim, noting the glasses in their hands.

“Yeah! You guys walk so fuckin’ slow, I could’ve downed four drinks in the time it took you to get over here!” Jimin scoffs next to him, taking a sip of his own drink. “Didn’t Seungcheol say you’re on your own?”

“Won’t you take care of me?”

“No.”

You laugh at their exchange, leaning into Seungcheol. “Should we get some drinks too?” He nods, already getting up from his seat as he gestures for you to stay. “Stay here, I’ll get some for us.”

Seungcheol leaves to get the two of you something to drink, leaving you with Jeongguk and Jimin. “Hey, are you and hyung like… dating dating?”

A blush paints your cheeks even in the dimmed club lights and it only gets worse when you notice Jimin smirking at you. “Um, well, I--I wouldn’t say that but…” You trail off, unsure of what to say next. Were you dating? Or was it just physical?

“Hey, my offer still stands if you wanna film with me!” Jimin shouts over the music, shrugging. “Although, I don’t think your boyfriend would like it very much.”

“Boyfriend?” Seungcheol questions as he sits back down next to you. “Who?”

“You!” Jeongguk and Jimin both reply, laughing. Seungcheol hands you your drink before taking a sip of his own. He makes no comment; a little uneasy about the topic himself.

“Anyway, my offer still stands at being the cameraman. I’m really good at video editing too!”

You and Seungcheol have a few more drinks, delving into idle conversation with the other two before you decide you want to dance.

“Mind if I join you?” Jimin asks, eyes flitting towards Seungcheol. “If it’s okay?”

You and Seungcheol share a look, but he breaks eye contact to raise an eyebrow at Jimin. “It’s not my decision, I’m not her keeper.”

You turn to Jimin, a slight pout on your lips. “Just mind your hands, okay?” He nods, grinning as he leads you towards the dance floor.

Jeungguk takes the opportunity to replace you as he plops into the seat next to Seungcheol as soon as the two of you are out of sight, drink sloshing in his cup.

“You’re jealous.”

“What?” Seungcheol shoots the younger male an incredulous look right before taking a swig of his drink. “You’re drunk and sounding crazy.”

“Puhhhh---lease, hyung. You like her. Like, actually like her. Just admit it, we all know it!”

Seungcheol’s lips press into a firm line, eyes scanning the dancefloor until they fall on you and Jimin dancing together. “Okay, yes, I do like her.” He pauses, biting the inside of his cheek when he sees Jimin’s hands on your waist. “Now can we drop it?”

“No way! ‘Cause I know you’re jealous as fuck right now watching them dancing together which is why you can’t fuckin’ take your eyes off of them to even look at me!”

“How much you wanna bet your boy-toy is imagining ripping my head off right now?”

You roll your eyes at Jimin’s comment, swaying to the beat as he puts his hands on your waist. “C’mon, play with me a little here, doll.” He tugs you in closer, making sure to keep a reasonable distance at first. “He likes you a lot, y’know. I can feel the way he burns holes in my head wishing I wasn’t here. But the truth is, I love it.” His words have you confused, eyebrows furrowing as you hold his stare.

“What are you talking about, Jimin? Have you had too many to drink too?”

He laughs boisterously, pulling you into him as your chest meets his. “I love playing with people, just like how I’m playing with Seungcheol right now. I think it’s a fun little game, y’know? For example, in a few seconds he’s gonna march down here and take you right from my arms, fuck you nice and hard if you’re lucky and he’s pissed enough. Unfortunately, the two of you are easy books to read. You like being fucked hard and let’s be real, you love it messy. And Seungcheol, well, he’s practically in love with you and green is definitely not his colour.” Jimin ends in a wink, squeezing your ass once for good measure.

“Oopsies, here comes your loverboy now. Hey, call me if you ever need help, yeah? You know where to find me~” Jimin blows you a kiss right before you’re spinning to face Seungcheol who looks undeniably annoyed.

“Having fun I see.” He grins, eyes burning with lust as he wraps a hand around your wrist. “Wanna have some more?”

You can only gulp in return, nodding shakily as he drags you towards an empty hall.

The music gets more and more muffled the deeper he drags you into the club and you mentally curse yourself when you feel the wetness already pooling in your panties.

Seungcheol tugs you into a small private room meant for parties, locking the door behind him as he pushes you towards one of the sofas. “Guess we won’t be having that quiet night in, hmm?” He picks his phone out of his pocket, silently telling you to catch it as he throws it your way.

Your shaky hands open the camera app, pressing record and making sure to keep Seungcheol’s face out of frame when you lean against the back of the plush material.

“Jeez, babygirl, why do you like causing so much trouble for me, huh?”

“I’m s-sorry, sir, I just---I--”

“I take my eyes off of you for a few minutes and some guy already has his hands on your ass? Dirty slut.”

Seungcheol smirks when he sees your mouth opening in a silent moan, legs already spreading on their own as he makes his way towards you. You could feel the air shift; already knowing the mood he was trying to set. “Fuck, look at you. Already spreading your legs so I can fuck you. Just like a good ‘lil slut should.”

“Ye--yes, please si--sir, fuck me, please!”

He pries your legs apart even further, slotting himself between them as his hands slowly start to push the material of your dress higher and higher until it bunches up around your waist. “Soaking your panties already too? You’re so goddamn easy.”

From your view, the camera can’t see much. But at this point, you don’t even care. “Please, please…” You whine; already squirming underneath him.

Seungcheol undoes the button and zipper of his pants, tugging his underwear down with it as he wraps a hand around his already hard cock.

“Do I need to prep your tight ‘lil cunt or is it wet enough for me already?”

You shakily reach your free hand down, sliding your panties to the side before running your fingertips through the  wetness. “I’m--I’m wet enough, sir…” He pushes your hand away, grinning at you before he tears the material right off of your body.

“S--Sir!!”

Seungcheol laughs under his breath, tapping the head of his cock against your clit a few times before he drags it through your wetness and positions himself at your entrance. He gives you a second before he starts sinking his cock in, this time bottoming out in a single thrust when he meets no resistance. “Fuck, you really are soaking, you little slut.” You let out a garbled moan, barely remembering the phone in your hand as Seungcheol starts thrusting into you at a moderate pace.

You keep your legs spread to the best of your ability, soft whines spilling from your lips when the head of his cock grazes your cervix. “God, sir, you’re s-so fucking big, it--I’m so fuh--full…!” He leans in, plucking the phone from your hands as he turns the camera to face you instead.

“Look at her. My perfect ‘lil slut taking my cock so well. Don’t you think I should give her more?” His eyes twinkle with mischief as he brings his free hand towards his lips; licking the digits until they’re well coated in his saliva. “Do you think you deserve my fingers too? Or is that ‘lil cunt of yours too full?”

“N-no, please I--I want your fingers too, god, I--I want them in my pussy with y-your cock!”

Seungcheol doesn’t say another word; instead, he angles the camera right up to your pussy as he brings his wet digits closer, pausing his thrusts as he slowly sinks in a finger next to his cock. “Oh---oh fuck, yes!” You scream, clenching around his cock and finger. He clenches his jaw, because as much as he’d to sink more of his fingers into you, he knew that you still had to get used to the feeling at first.

And it takes a few tense moments and harsh breaths before Seungcheol resumes his pace. “Pleeeese~” You whine, tears blurring your vision when you look up at him and he makes sure to catch it on camera.

“Please what, baby?”

“P--please, put more of your fingers…”

He takes this as a sign that you’re okay; sinking in another digit as you let out a choked moan. “Oh my god, oh my g-god…! Ngh, h-hah, ‘m so f--full, it feels so good~” You sob. Seungcheol’s throat feels dry as he watches through the phone screen how your pussy looks impossibly stretched around his cock and fingers.

“Look at her tight cunt. Fuck, I can’t even fit another finger in her pussy... Surely, this is enough for you to cum though, hmm?” He quips, thrusting into you until your words become a jumbled mix of sounds.

“Guess I fucked her stupid too, huh?”

He keeps his fingers parallel to his cock, sinking them deeper and deeper until he’s knuckle deep. “Fuck, I can feel you getting tight around me. Go ahead and cum, slut.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you do cum; walls fluttering around Seungcheol as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your mouth can only open in a silent scream, toes curling in your heels when your mind goes blank as the pleasure washes over you. You feel your body buzzing, fingers going numb at the way Seungcheol keeps slamming into your cervix.

Seungcheol grits his teeth, doubling his pace in the midst of your orgasm. “Her pussy keeps sucking me in… Guess she wants me to cum inside her too?”

“Mmh… sir, p--please cum inside me…” You mumble, already slowly starting to come down from your high. “Want you to fill me up this time…”

And this time, Seungcheol does; grinding against you as he finally cums too. “Fuck, take all of it, baby!” He growls, fucking his cum deeper into you as he rides out his high. His head feels fuzzy; both off of the alcohol and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Mmh, ‘m so full of y-your cock and c-cum, sir…”

A shudder rolls down Seungcheol’s body when he starts to come down from his high; slowly easing his fingers out of you before he pulls out completely.

He brings his phone down to your pussy, filming the cum that trickles down to the sofa underneath you.

“Look at her pussy full of my cum. D’you think it’s enough to get her pregnant?” The words spill out of Seungcheol’s mouth quicker than he can think and you let out a shaky breath at his words, unintentionally pushing his cum out as he continues to film. “Or should I keep cumming in her and filling her up? Fuck my cum deeper into her pussy so I know she’ll get nice and pregnant.” He ends in a chuckle as he pans the camera up to your face; catching the way you bite your lip and the way your eyes glaze over in complete lust despite how tired you were.

“What do you think, babygirl?”

“I---I think… I think s-sir needs to---to keep filling me up with his c-cum…”

“Right answer, babygirl.”

[harryhandstan]

gotta get better

gif credit

This concept has been in my head for a while now and it took me like a month to write and edit and just get it all out! I had surgery two years ago today and it was one of the most emotional, stressful experiences of my life simply bc I’m just a big baby lol. This is just something to celebrate that day and the fact that I’m still so happy it’s all over! Fluffy af as usual cause that’s all I know how to write. :)

Thankful to @bfharry​ and @bopbopstyles​ for not only inspiring me with their amazing writing but pushing me towards finishing this and reaching (even going over) my personal 5k goal! I appreciate you both so much!!

I recently saw a post about tagging triggers properly so I’m gonna do it that way but if I do it wrong or it doesn’t work PLEASE let me know and I will fix it immediately (just want to be sure all my bases are covered)

// needles tw, pills tw (prescription), anxiety tw // (if I missed anything I should’ve tagged please please let me know!!) and I’m sure there are some medical inaccuracies bc that whole day is kind of a blur for me haha 

as always likes/rbs/comments are welcome but absolutely not necessary :) 

final word count: 7.1k

//

"Y'nervous, angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Bout to chew your finger off. I know there can't be much of a nail left."

Your hand drops back to your lap. You hadn't even realized you were doing it. A bad habit of the nervous child you thought you'd long forgotten. He offers his left hand and you accept it, thumb swiping over the cross painted across his skin. He knows it's one of your favorites and you're thankful for the comfort. You don't know how many times he'd teased you about how you would eventually rub it off one day and he'd have to get it redone.

"S'a routine surgery, I bet they do them all day. You're gonna be fine."

You'd been over all this a thousand times before. Harry had to ban you from looking up the procedure online at one point. You became obsessive with worry. What if you're still awake when they cut into you and you can't talk? What if you feel everything and can't tell anyone? What if you don't wake up? He had shot down every one of your horrifying theories.

"How much longer before they take me back?"

"Nurse said it would be about 10 minutes when we checked in. Shouldn't be too much longer. Want me to check the board again?"

Checking in had only consisted of a nurse taking your name and giving you your bracelet for the day with an ID number. The number would help Harry stay updated on where you were throughout the whole process. The "board" was simply a tv mounted to the wall that frequently cycled through each patient's last name and ID number.

"No, no," You cling to his sleeve like a desperate child, "Don't leave again. She said they wouldn't update anything until I went back anyway."

Harry had left you only briefly when you first arrived. Hands in his pockets, wandering around like a lost child around the big, open expanse of the waiting room. He stayed where you could see him and the whole time you had anxiously chewed your bottom lip until he returned. You hated it, but you knew he was just as nervous as you. So you let him have that moment. To check his surroundings and release some of the nerves so he could come back to you, calm and cool as always.

When the nurse does call your name, you almost jump out of your skin. You freeze, unable to move. Harry stands and flashes the nurse a quick smile before turning back to you and offering his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't do this, H. I feel like I'm gonna throw up if I move."

"You're not, promise. Remember those breathing exercises we practiced? Do those. C'mon..deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out. Do it while we walk."

Slow deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out.

You remember how silly you felt the first time you did it. How it made you giggle at first. This is never going to work. But eventually it did. Anytime you got upset or started to overthink about this day, Harry made you stop whatever you were doing and sit down. Breathe.

It was a little difficult to do while walking. Your body wanted to pause your steps when your breath paused, but Harry tugged you along, you almost hiding behind him until you made it through a set of heavy wooden doors to a small space with a hospital bed and a curtain drawn in front of it.

//

The IV had had been your biggest dread, the fear overriding any logic that it was something you needed, instead of something the nurses decided to do simply to torture you.

Your face twists into a wince of pain when the needle goes into your vein, Harry standing over you, his face a mirror of your own as you squeeze his hand. When the nurse pulls away with a triumphant "all done!" you flash a look of surprise between your arm and Harry.

"Not that bad, eh? Think ya overreacted a bit about how bad that was gonna be?" He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to shoot him a nasty look for teasing you.

"Maybe a little." You pinch your index finger and thumb together, indicating a minimal amount.

"Tiny bit more, babe," Another nurse appears from around the curtain and he laughs before speaking to her, "it's all she's worried about all morning."

"Honestly that's everyone's least favorite part. The rest of the day should be aces if you can handle that!"

Harry settles himself into a chair while the nurse goes through a myriad of questions. Any other surgeries? Allergies to medications you know of? Do you smoke? Drink?

Harry snorts when you say no to drinking, but quickly clasps his hand over his mouth when the nurse's head snaps to look between you and him.

"The occasional drink is fine, no worries. Nothing this morning though, right?"

"No, ma'am."

Your eyes meet his, a mischievous grin still plastered across his face. He mumbles a quick "sorry" while you try to pull your concentration back towards the nurse and the remainder of her questions.

"Alright, time for the good stuff," she passes you a small clear cup with two white pills, "First one is just something to keep you calm and relaxed, second one is to prevent any pain after the procedure. They'll give you something to make you sleepy when you get to the OR, but this might make you a bit loopy for now."

"This should be fun." Harry claps his hand in front of him, rubbing them together quickly. He leans forward in his chair, as if ready for a show.

"Yeah? Is she a happy drunk?"

Harry had only ever experienced you high on any sort of prescription medication once, almost a year ago when you went on a girl's trip with your best friend and twisted your ankle in an attempt to make it back to her car after dinner out one night. You calling him from an unknown ER in the middle of the night had terrified him enough to start packing a bag to fly to you before your best friend could grab your phone and assure him you were fine and she would put you on a plane home to him in two days as planned. He had teased you endlessly when he picked you up from the airport and for the next few days afterwards as you limped around on a bruised, ACE bandage wrapped foot.

But after too many wine drunk nights to count, he had enough stories to humiliate you with and the thought of any one of them being told now had you sinking further into the hospital bed.

"You could say that. Last time she.." His voice trails off at the sight of your eyes, wide as saucers, begging him to stop.

The nurse grins, her face kind and sympathetic to your silent cry for help.

"We're a little behind schedule this morning so it may be about 20 minutes before they come transport you, okay?" You nod, the effects of the sedative already working its way through your system, "Keep an eye on her? Make sure she behaves?"

"Yeah, I got her. We'll be fine, thank you so much." He's closer now, standing next to you again, a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your shoulder. You manage a thumbs up and a sleepy "thank you" as an affirmation that you appreciate all she's done for you.

"You're more than welcome. You'll have a different set of nurses in recovery but if you need anything until they come get you, just let me know, alright?"

"We will, thanks." His thumb ghosts across the front of your collarbone, the lightest of touches to soothe you, his eyes still focused on the nurse.

"Good luck! You're gonna do just fine, I promise."

The second she's around the curtain, Harry nudges you lightly, "Scoot."

"Huh? What do you mean..Harry, there's not enough room for you in this bed." Your head feels too light to deal with his nonsense now.

"Yeah there is if you scoot. C'mon. Hurry before we get caught. M’supposed to be keeping an eye on you, remember? Gotta make sure you don't fall outta the bed."

He's already wedged himself next to you, trying to make his tall frame fit into the limited space.

You move over as much as you can, the rail of the bed poking into your hip.

He tucks one arm behind your head, the other one thrown behind his own as a cushion.

"You feel more relaxed now, lovie?"

You scrunch down in the bed, just enough that you can tuck your head under his other arm, "A little. I don't feel sleepy enough though," Your eyes dart up, seeking the comfort of his face, "I'm scared, H."

"I know you are, baby," the hand behind your head shifts to cup around your arm, pulling you closer, "Just pretend you're home with me and we're taking a nice little nap together, yeah?"

"But you won't be there with me, not really."

"I'll be there when you wake up though. First thing you'll see when you open your eyes, promise." He runs a finger along the curve of your nose, "Close your eyes. Try to sleep, hmm?"

You shake your head, turning towards him to hide your face in his side, inhaling his scent.

"Want me to turn the light off? Would that help?"

"No," You toss the arm that isn't trapped between you two over him, holding tightly to his shirt, "Stay."

"Alright, then. We'll just wait," He tilts his head to rest closer to yours, "Have you thought about what you want to eat after?"

"Not really. M'too nervous to think about food."

"We'll think of something good. Whatever you want."

"You're gonna get us in trouble, better scoot back to your corner like a good boy." Your words come out unintentionally slurred and you weakly push yourself up and away from him as he slides off. He doesn't sit though, just stands near you, an anxious look flashing across his features.

"Hey, c'mere. Gonna be fine, routine surgery, remember?" You stretch your arms out to him, a plea to be near his warmth again.

He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. You tug lightly at the sleeve of his cardigan, a feeble attempt to pull him closer. He indulges you, his brow still creased with distress.

"Know ya gonna be fine, just hate you have to go through it at all. Wish I could take it from you without all this." He gestures to the IV he knows you despise so much.  

"You have helped take it from me. All the sleepless nights you spent up with me, holding my hair back when I got sick. All the days after when I was too drained to get out of bed. You were there for as much of it as you could be. And you pushed me to go see the surgeon in the first place. You've helped me more than you give yourself credit for."

His fingers intertwine in yours, the pad of his thumb soothing over the front of your hand.

"Make sure you keep my phone with you, my mom will probably call you every 30 minutes for updates." A yawn stretches across your face, "She has your number too, bullied me into giving it to her last week when I called to tell her about the surgery."

He nods, patting his pocket to make sure both phones are still nestled there together.

Another yawn threatens to escape and you muffle it this time, more content to fight sleep to stare at Harry; his hair a perfect mess of curls under the harsh brightness of the hospital lighting. His face is more relaxed now, his eyes still focused on your fingers tangled together. He catches you, your eyes glazed over, too heavy and threatening to close.

"Darling, please close your eyes. I can see how tired you are," His fingertips sweep delicately over your nose again, as if he was lulling a baby to sleep, "You don't have to stay awake for me."

"Closing my eyes for just a second, alright? Not because you told me to though. I want to. Wake me up in 2 hours, don't wanna sleep too long."

Your eyes are already drifting closed, the last thing you hear is a chuckle; effortless, light as air, "I will, promise."

Soft kisses pressed across your face, "Sweet dreams, love."

//

His voice is the first you hear as you wake up in the dimly lit recovery room. Well, really it was more like a big cubicle, another space with a curtain drawn in front of it. Even with the floaty, dreamy feeling flowing through your system, you can still detect the worry in his voice.

"Harry?" It takes your mind a minute to catch up and process where you are and what had happened.

Oh yeah. Surgery day. No more annoying gallbladder. No more sleepless nights. Freedom to eat what you want and not be haunted by nausea and sickness from what you ate.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?" Suddenly a nurse in bright blue scrubs is there, way too animated and loud at the moment, "Pain scale 1-10?"

"I don't have any pain. Zero." You're aware of how high you sound and a giggle escapes through the haze. That earns you a smile from Harry, one that lights up his whole face and makes his dimples shine through.

"Awesome! Well then as soon as you're good and awake we're gonna get this IV out and go over some paperwork for both of you to sign. I want you to drink something for me too, so what would you like?"

You request a ginger ale and as soon as the nurse leaves to retrieve it for you, Harry scoots the chair he's sitting in as close to the bed as possible.

"How long was I out?"

"Couple of hours," He absentmindedly fixes your hair, looping various curls back around to their respective places, "Took a little longer than expected, you had a small infection so they had to make sure it hadn't spread."

"How much longer?"

"Long enough you had us all slightly worried." His hand trails down your cheek to cup your chin gently, urging you to look at him, "You sure you're not in pain? Now's not the time to do that stubbornly brave thing you do where you pretend nothing's wrong."

"I feel fine, really. Just a little tired, ready to go home."

He studies your face, trying to find any trace of dishonesty. When he's satisfied you're being truthful, he stands and extracts your phone from his pocket.

"Already talked to ya mum, but your co-workers were all texting you, asking how you were. Figured you'd want to handle that yourself, didn't know how much detail you would want to give them."

"Did you give my mother all the details? Infection and everything?"

"Um, no. I knew better than to do that. Promised her you would call when I got you settled at home."

"You promised or she demanded?"

"Okay..she politely asked that you call her when we get home."

"That sounds more like her." You roll your eyes, pushing yourself so you're sitting more upright in the bed.

"She just worries about you." He adjusts the pillow behind you, fluffing and tucking it where you direct it, against your lower back.

"I know. I'll FaceTime her when we get home to prove I'm alive."

"It's been a while since we've seen them, maybe we should plan a visit?" He plops himself back in the chair, leaning back as far as he can go; hands behind his head, eyes closed. You'd both gotten very little sleep the night before, you were too anxious and he was too gracious to let you suffer alone.

"Oh please, I'm lucky I even got time off to do this. My boss would never allow another break so soon."

"Maybe for the holidays?"

"Maybe..but only if you can go with me, you know they love you more than me by now anyway."

"They do not," He peeks one eye open at you, "They love us both equally."

You shoot a quick text to your co-workers, using the group chat between the few of you to make it easier.

I'm out! Feeling okay for now but that might change later lol

The nurse is back, apologizing for taking so long, "We've been so behind all day, it's crazy busy. I had to wait for your doctor to sign off on your release." She hands you a can of ginger ale, white bendy straw already poised and ready for you.

"Just need you to sign here," She holds a clipboard and a pen out to you and you balance the can dangerously in one hand while you scribble something that resembles your signature. Close enough. She gestures for you to pass the clipboard to Harry, "His signature goes under yours, just says he's responsible for you for the next few hours until everything wears off."

"This means I'm the boss, right?" He leans over to grab the board, a wink thrown in your direction. He's enjoying himself way too much at the thought of being in control of you for the next few hours. Smug son of a bitch.

She takes the clipboard back and pulls off a yellow sheet of paper, "This is just your copy of what you signed, and also has post op instructions for your bandages. Your prescription's been sent to the pharmacy, and there's a brief summary of pain management information on the bottom there just in case you need it."

"Thank you." You transfer it right to Harry's waiting hand, knowing he'll be the one surveying every word, making sure you follow everything to the letter.

"I know you mentioned earlier having a little bit of a drive home, so probably once you get her some food and pick up her prescriptions, it'll be time for another round of meds. Okay?" She turns to you again, "I know it sounds silly, but one of the most important things after this particular surgery is lots of walking. Otherwise you'll be miserable. Rest for a while when you get home, then get up every 10 minutes or so until bedtime. Don't let her skip that part, alright? Very important."

"I heard you weren't a big fan of this thing," She nods towards the IV in your right forearm, "So this'll probably be the best part of this whole process for you. We'll get this out and then you can get changed and we'll get someone to wheel you down and out of here, alright? Don't look and you won't even know when it's gone."

"Hey, think about what you want to eat, huh? Your first freedom meal. Yay!" He slips his hand into your left, raising your connected hands victoriously. You didn't think it was possible for you to love him anymore until this moment. The way he could so easily erase your fear was one of his many gifts you adored him for, "What are we having, babe?"

You don't even hesitate before answering, "Pizza, from Milano's. It's my favorite, other than that one place in Italy you took me to. Please? Oh and one of their salads, with the little bread knots on the side!"

He glances at the nurse, awaiting a reprimand for your meal choice.

"As your nurse, I feel I should remind you that while you can have anything you feel like eating, we usually recommend something small and light at first. Broth or soup with some toast, maybe. The salad may be fine, but the pizza might be a little heavy. Taking it slow would be best. But everyone is different."

"So..just cheese then? Maybe some mushrooms?"

You let your head fall back against the pillow, a foggy haze settling over you, "Plain cheese, no mushrooms."

"Alright, sounds good. Why don't I go call it in and pull the car around? Meet you out front?" He leans closer, a quick peck to your cheek before pulling his hand loose from yours and turning to leave.

"Hey, wait," You attempt to tug at his wrist, but fail, your brain still set to slow-motion. He takes pity on you and returns to your side, "Let's eat there. It's in the mall so we can window shop after we eat."

"You sure? You still seem a bit tipsy, honey."

You don't feel tipsy. Just tired, and hungry. Very hungry. As if on cue, your stomach makes a remarkably loud noise; an objection at not being fed for the past 12 hours.

"Alright, alright, calm down. " You let out an embarrassed groan when you realize he's talking to your stomach, "We'll eat there."

He kisses you again, closer to your mouth, "Missed."

"I did, huh?" He chuckles, close enough to your face now your noses are almost touching, "Let's try again."

This time his lips meet yours and you know he missed on purpose the first time by how amused he looks when he pulls away.

"One more for luck?" You can't resist letting the back of your hand wander over his face, before resting the palm of your hand against his cheek.

"I think I can handle that," He smiles before landing another quick peck to your lips, "Be good for the nurse while I'm gone. I'll have the getaway car ready in 10, yeah?"

//

You're certain Harry would have fed you if you would have let him, right here in the mall food court in front of everyone. But you refuse, insisting even, on carrying your own tray to the table. He chuckles when you pull your phone out of your sweater pocket to take a picture of your food, quickly uploading it to Facebook.

He watches you closely as you take the first bite, even pulling his own phone out to sneak a photo of you when you temporarily close your eyes to appreciate the indulgence of being able to eat one of your favorite foods again; free from that anxious feeling of whether or not it would settle right with your body later. You open your eyes the very moment after he captured the image.

"Harry!"

"You just looked so happy! I couldn't help it. You know I'll never post it anyway. Snagged a few of you earlier in your little blue cap they made you wear too." He flips back through to show you. You try to snatch the phone away, but he's too quick to pull his hand back and stash his phone in his pocket.

"When??"

"After you fell asleep, right before they came to take you back."

He takes a bite from his own generous slice of pizza in front of him before gesturing to your tray, "How is it?"

"Amazing. Even better than before, if possible."

His smile is bright, loving the satisfaction of seeing you actually enjoy food again.

Your plan to walk around the mall was cut short, you could barely make it through one store without yawning. You cling to Harry most of the way back to the car, his arm securely wrapped around you to keep you steady.

You doze off on the drive home, and when your eyes flutter open you find him opening the passenger door, offering a hand to help lift you out of the car and up the stairs into the house. Your foot stumbles on the first step, failing to make contact and you almost fall back.

"Easy," He giggles, an arm thrown behind your back to catch you before encouraging softly, "Try again."

When he's confident you're stable enough on your feet, he lets go to unlock the door.

You're greeted by a bouquet of flowers, a colorful arrangement of roses and lilies from Harry's band mates. You immediately recognize Sarah's handwriting on the card and make a mental note to shoot everyone a thank you text later. You don't know if it's the medication still in your system, the exhaustion of the day, or the overwhelming amount of love that makes you teary eyed.

Harry stands behind you as you admire the flowers and the card, arms curving around to hug you, careful of the large bandage on your upper abdomen and the two smaller steri-strips on your right side.

"How did they know pink roses were my favorite?"

"They love you, peach." He rests his chin on your shoulder, "Besides, you've only mentioned growing up with a pink rose bush in your Nanna's garden about a hundred times."

"I always loved it. Still do."

Your mind travels back to your earliest memories spent there; summers when you practically lived at the small house on the hill. Helping pick tomatoes and peppers from the garden, too warm afternoons spent with a book in your lap under the shade of a peach tree, your grandfather's corny jokes and loving smile. Your Nanna's too generous portions of food contributing to the few extra curves you still carried with you to this day.

You don't even notice the tears at first. They slip down your cheeks and land on his arm. Once you realize, you try to quickly wipe them away, but Harry sees.

"Hey..c'mon, I think your high's wearing off a bit, bub. Pajamas, meds, nap. Sound good?" He turns you to face him, using the sleeve of his shirt to brush away any tears that still linger at the corner of your eyes.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 3..why?"

"No nap. I'll never sleep tonight, and you know how grumpy I get when my sleep schedule is thrown off." Even with your declaration of not wanting a nap, you can't help but rub your eyes, a weak attempt to keep yourself awake. Any resolve Harry had to try to convince you to nap melts away. A smirk on his face, he knows you'll eventually crash later, most likely on his chest or in his arms. He's content to let you be stubborn for now.

"Okay, then. New plan. Pajamas, meds, movie. Better?"

"Better. You get everything ready and pick the movie while I change?"

"You don't wanna pick the movie?"

You wave him off, already shuffling towards the bedroom, "You're the boss today, remember?"

You take your time gathering what you need to get cozy for the rest of the day, selecting an oversized, well-worn tie dye t-shirt and leggings from your dresser. You even take a moment to dip into Harry's extensive sweatshirt collection, grabbing your favorite one. It's amazingly soft and still smells of him, a faint scent of his cologne and well..just Harry. You couldn't imagine anything more comforting.

In your pursuit to feel more lucid, you venture into the bathroom, taking a moment to wash your face. The cool water instantly refreshes you and pushes you closer to feeling like yourself again. Wanting your hair out of your face, you pluck a scrunchy from your shared collection of hair accessories. You quickly recognize that your arms still have that too heavy feeling of unconsciousness and after a few attempts to gather your curls into some sort of up-do, you give up and loop the accessory around your wrist to try again later.

Harry senses your frustration when you find him in the kitchen, two small green pill bottles sitting on the counter in front of him. He's already filled your favorite cup with ice water, and you gratefully take it and drink from it.

"What's wrong?" His brow creases with concern and you feel guilty for making him worry over something so silly.

"Nothing..just wanted my hair up out of my face but my arms wouldn't cooperate." You try to laugh it off to put him more at ease, "It's not a big deal."

You know it's only the weariness of the day still making you feel so emotional, clear-headed you would not be upset over something so small.

"Here. Let me try." He slides the scrunchy from your wrist and pulls you closer to him, moving behind you to gently work long fingers through your hair, gathering it all in a loose ponytail on top of your head before securing it around a few times with the scrunchy.

You let your shoulders drop with a deep sigh when he's done, it was such a simple thing, but it made you feel so much lighter. He spins you around to face him, a charming gleam of pride at his handiwork adorning his face, "Too tight?"

"No. Much better. Thank you, Harry. You take such good care of me always, but today..I don't know what I would've done without you. I made such a big fuss and probably made you miserable with all of my worrying." You're suddenly very aware that you are rambling, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, his smile is wide. So bright that the skin around his eyes is crinkling.

He leans towards you, lips stopping whatever words may have come next, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer in a soft, warm embrace. When he pulls away, his eyes bore right into yours, and your heart swells with more love than you could ever imagine having for one person. But he wasn't just any person. He was your person, your whole word staring back at you.

"I'm SO proud of you. You've been so strong today, always knew you had that strength in you, but seeing you take that leap of faith..doing something you knew you should despite your fear, that's all you, love. I can't take any credit for that. You've made me anything but miserable, trust me."

His face is still close enough to yours that you nudge forward, pressing your forehead to his, a silent appreciation of his affection.

"Any pain yet?" He pulls back, a thumb across your cheek, eyes still locked on yours.

"My head kind of hurts? And I still just feel kind of..drunk."

"You have always been a bit of a lightweight, babe. And a thief too, I see. S'that my sweatshirt?"

"Have not!" You swat playfully at his arm, "Maybe. Is that my hair clip in your hair?"

"Possibly." His eyes dart up to the swoop of curls on top of his head, a black plastic clip twisting it back and away from his face.

"Guess we're even then."

"S'pose we are." He tries to keep his eyes narrowed in a mock attempt of annoyance, but it quickly fades into laughter.

You decide against FaceTiming your family, hoping that hearing your voice will be enough. It seems to satisfy them at least for the rest of the day. You assure them that Harry is taking very good care of you and that everything went as smooth as could be expected.

He raises one eyebrow at you as you hang up, "As smooth as expected, huh? You aren't going to tell them the truth?"

"What's to tell? I had an infection and now it's gone. I'm fine, there's no sense in worrying them. We can give them the full story later."

He shrugs, fingers working to open one of the green pill bottles before passing one of the white pills to you, "For your headache, lovie. There's something here for nausea too if you need it. M'worried the pizza might've been too much. Maybe you should take one of these..just in case?"

"Harry, I promise I will tell you if I feel anything other than fine." Your hand runs from his shoulder down his bicep, squeezing gently, "Besides, I cannot take a whole one of those. If you think I'm a lightweight now..I'll sleep for the whole week if I take that."

He slips the bottle in his pocket, pulling you in to press a kiss to the top of your head, "We'll keep it close just in case, okay?"

"Sounds good," Your hand trails back up to his neck to work fingers through his hair, "Hey, thought we were watching a movie? What'd you pick?"

"Thought we could decide together. C'mon, let's get you comfy in bed."

"Ever the gentleman, always trying to get me in your bed."

"Hey! I am a perfect gentleman, thank you very much," He chuckles, a hand coming to rest on the small of your back, "Just thought you'd be more comfortable, you can prop up and stretch your feet out."

You let him tug you along for the second time today, thankful it's the luxury of your shared bed you get to settle into this time. He tucks you in softly, propping pillows behind your back and head.

"Comfy? Need anything else?"

"No, just need you to quit babying me so much and relax with me for a bit."

"Since when am I not allowed to baby you?"

You roll your eyes, "Never said you weren't allowed. Just want you to stop worrying so much, that's all."

"Good. Cause y'are my baby," No matter how many times you'd heard him say it before, it never failed to make you blush, "Do anything for you, y'know that, right?"

"I know," You look down at your hands, trying to slow your racing heart, "You never let me forget."

"Hey," He pokes your cheek, pulling your gaze back up to him, "I love you."

"I love you more, H."

He kisses your forehead, "Impossible. I love you most."

The reference to one of your favorite movies has you smiling at him, that dreamy feeling falling over you again, "Can we watch Tangled?"

"Sure, princess."

He sinks next to you, head propped up on your shoulder, navigating easily through Disney+ to find your requested movie.

Your eyes drift closed right about the time the lanterns are being released in the sky, a moment that normally leaves your face wet with tears, the soft vibrations of Harry humming along the perfect lullaby to push you further into your dream.

//

He wakes you later in the evening.

"Dinner's on the table if you want to join me."

"Time's it?" Your voice is still heavy with sleep.

"7. You were sleeping so deeply I didn't want to wake you, thought your body could use the extra sleep today."

"Yeah. It was nice, thank you." You stretch your arms forward, reaching for his hands to help pull you up.

"How do you feel?"

"A little sore. More sober, for sure."

Dinner is simple; a bowl of plain broth, salad, and toast. Exactly what the nurse suggested earlier. There's even a warm mug of tea waiting for you.

"With honey for my honey," He's so proud of his cheesy expression of love you cannot help but smile.

You look at him curiously when he sits next to you, the same boring meal set out for himself.

"Harry..you can eat what you want, babe. Seriously you've done enough today, more than enough to be supportive. It wouldn't hurt my feelings if you made yourself something different."

"Nah. S'fine. We're in this together, yeah?"

You raise your eyebrows at him playfully, "Did you have an organ snatched from your body today?"

"No, I didn't." He laughs, "I just meant food wise, love. It's vegetable broth, by the way, hope that's alright."

"It's perfect."

You nudge him lightly, an elbow to his side, shifting closer to ask for a kiss. He meets you the rest of the way, lips planted firmly on yours. When you don't pull away, he quickly adds another.

After dinner is done and you have another round of meds, the two of you end up in an awkward ball of cuddles on the couch. Harry flips through the channels on the tv before finding a show you both agree on.

But you're too restless, unable to find a position comfortable enough for you. You shift a few times, finally giving up and letting out a frustrated groan before tossing the blanket off the both of you and springing up and off the couch.

Harry doesn't panic, just grabs your hand before you can get too far away or lose your balance, keeping his voice low when he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing hurts. I just can't get comfortable, and I don't feel right."

"What doesn't feel right, angel? Explain."

"I don't feel like myself. I don't know how to explain it. Just feel off."

He sees you're on the verge of tears and ascends from his spot on the couch, arms quickly enveloping you before placing a finger under your chin to pull your face up to look at him.

"It's probably gonna take a day or so to adjust, baby. Yes it was a minor surgery but it was a major change to your body." He's bending now to look right into your eyes, searching them,  "How can we fix it tonight, hmm? What do you need?"

Tears are free flowing, falling on the front of your t-shirt and down to the floor.

"Take your time. Breathe." A large hand smoothing warm circles firmly across your back; a balm for your restless spirit.

You pause, deep breath in before slowly letting it out, "I think I just need to move around for a bit."

"Let's go for a walk, eh? A quick one and then back to bed. Your mind needs more rest. How's that sound?" He taps your forehead softly.

"Okay, yeah." You nod your head, an approval of his plan.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Everything's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine."

You nod again, scared your voice will break if you try to speak. He knew that those words held a lot of weight for you, he'd repeated them often throughout this whole process and to hear them now was a reminder of how safe you were. That with him, you would always be safe and loved.

Being dark outside meant you gracelessly padding through the house, up and down the hallway a few times and back to the living room. Harry stays close, encouraging you along with little claps and kisses to motivate you. When your stomach starts to feel uneasy, he urges you once again to take something for nausea. You agree to take a half a pill, knowing it'll help you sleep.

Despite the nap you had earlier and only being awake for a couple of hours, it doesn't take much convincing for you to settle back into bed.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

He's already reclined next to you, book in hand, the soft light from the lamp illuminating one side of his face. You're smushed against him, drifting between that sweet space of almost asleep and wanting to stay awake to enjoy any spare moment you get with him. His hand working through your hair helps push you towards the former of the two.

"I'm sorry to be such a burden today," Your words are slurring together but you continue on, just needing to get your thoughts out before he can stop you, "I don't deserve you and I shouldn't have overreacted so much about something so simple."

"Hey, none of that now," He lays the book on the nightstand, careful to save his place for later before pulling you closer to him, "You were not, nor have you ever been a burden to me. Just because you needed a little extra help today does not mean you aren't deserving of me or my love. You will never have to earn that. It's yours, always has been, will be as long as you decide to keep me around."

"Thank you. For all of it. I'll always want you."

"Always? Y'might change your mind someday, angel."

"I won't. Promise."

"Yeah? Me either."

A kiss laid delicately to the top of your head has your eyes dangerously close to falling shut again before another thought navigates its way through your mind and out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"H..what am I gonna do with a full week off from work?"

"Let me take care of you?"

//

And that's exactly what he does.

Mornings spent sleeping in, late breakfasts made together and afternoon walks. Evenings consisting of the two of you preparing dinner together or ordering takeout from some of the forbidden places you couldn't eat from before. Mugs of herbal tea before early bedtimes, you sweetly falling asleep to the sound of his voice reading to you most nights.

But his favorite part was that the scent of lavender was no longer cursed for you. Some nights before your surgery, when you simply could not fall asleep the pain was so unbearable, you would fill the tub with hot water and lavender scented bubbles to try to calm yourself enough to be able to drift off afterwards. It never worked, the heat always doing more harm than good. Harry would always be waiting for you, open arms and a soft towel to wrap you in.

So the smell became one you hated, memories of sleepless nights and nausea. But now you were free to use it again for what you always loved it for before it was cursed. In your body wash, lotion, even your laundry detergent; spreading the scent all over your shared space in as many ways as you could.

He even mentions it one night after dinner, when the two of you are pressed impossibly close together on the couch. His nose buried into your neck, inhaling deeply, pulling away to announce, "You smell like you again, love. Missed it so much." He burrows back in, placing kisses from your neck to your shoulder, ignoring your giggles and protests of how much it tickles.

A week later, the alarm wakes you sooner than you've become accustomed to, reminding you of your return to work. Harry's arm thrown over your waist pulls you closer as you try to leave the bed, a sleepy "Don't go." mumbled in your ear.

You do your best to peel yourself away from him, admitting silently to yourself how much harder it is for you to leave the warmth of your bed as it is for him to let you go.

//

2 years later, you have a scar you swear didn't heal right, and a man who loves you even more because of it.

[kookiepredictions]

Jungkook Energy Reading

Jungkook is at a major crossroad of his life. Here, he has a choice to make between 2 roads that will potentially lead him to 2 completely different lives. The choices are to either stay the course that he has been following until now, or to level up to a new, challenging but highly rewarding stage. This is a very fun and interesting topic to discuss so I will take my time with this.

To give you a context, Jungkook is a very highly intuitive person since, like, forever. Ever wondered why (or how) out of... (was it 7?)... so many company offers he chose to be with a small company for a reason that might seem like a whim? Ever wondered why his social media posts gain so much traction? Why he trends so often? If you’ve felt like Jungkook is one of those people who just “gets it” that’s because of his natural intuitive abilities. At the cost of being hated on, I’ll say this: he’s not the best singer in the world. Yet, he makes magic with his voice every time. He is an average dancer. Yet, he commands the stage and holds attention like nobody’s business. That’s because Jungkook has always worked with energy without knowing that he did. That’s why a lot of his achievements seem almost effortless. Yes, he works really hard for everything, but so do a lot of other people. Jungkook has this innate quality of (almost) always making the right choices, being at the right place at the right time that, combined with his ability to work hard, creates these massive outcomes. He’s a super powerful clairsentient and although I’m not sure if he consciously he uses his gifts, subconsciously it has often rewarded him, and so far he hasn’t had to really think about it too much, because it’s a naturally-occurring habit for him. But now he has reached a threshold where he has to contemplate things. Needless to say, it’s outside his comfort zone and is making him VERY stressed. He’s at a juncture where he feels this strong pull towards a direction but is afraid to go there because it’s out of his comfort zone and as is the case with that, he is plagued with doubts, confusion, opposing logics, etc— all of which is keeping him stuck and stagnant like a deer caught in headlights.

What is the problem with staying in his comfort zone, you might ask, I mean it has worked for him so far. Generally speaking, there’s no problem. There is never a problem in this world nor is there any good or bad. It all depends on how we see things. That’s why one person’s curse turns out to be another’s blessing, and one’s trash another’s treasure. The problem here is that, Jungkook has done the unthinkable— he has started to have dreams and desires (lol sorry not sorry I like to be dramatic). For a while (maybe a year or so?) Jungkook has been in this place (mentally and emotionally) where he has been rethinking and reinventing his goals, plans etc for his future. He has lived quite a while with a certain idea of how his life is going to go and worked with that vision. But it was getting tiring and draining in a way he didn’t quite understand why, followed by something impactful that happened in his life— has made him question everything. He has been proverbially studying himself in the mirror and rediscovering his true self. This is literally changing everything about his life. His wants are changing, the things that make him happy (or sad) are changing, and he has been think A LOT about how he wants his life to look like from here on. He’s trying to manifest a life that he thinks will not just give him the usual, practical material comforts of life, but also make him happy and fulfilled from a soul-deep space. And as is the case with manifestations, the first thing you gotta do is make sure your mindset is aligned with what you’re desiring. This is where Jungkook is at right now. He knows what he wants, he is willing to put in the work that it takes, and has also been making plans and taking action... but wait a second. Just when he thought that it is time for him to reap the rewards of his actions, things seem to be going south for him. He is facing problems and obstacles in nearly all areas of his life, and this has him utterly confused because he thinks he has done everything right and yet, why is he not seeing results materialize yet? He’s growing tired of this journey and it’s even more confusing because on the one hand, he still feels like he has hope and that there’s a high possibility that things will go his way, yet on the other hand, what IS happening in reality is quite the opposite. He feels like he’s being pulled in 2 opposite directions and both have equally strong reasons to go towards. This is what is known as “the crossroads”.

The reason he is not seeing results is like I said, manifestations are ALL about the mindset. Point blank period. If you hold a pendulum suspending by the string, and just THINK about moving it without moving your hand at all, it starts moving. This is how pendulum readings work. This is a small yet telling exercise to show how our mindset literally controls all our actions. So without the right mindset, actions mean nothing because those actions are coming from a mindset that is not aligned with what you want to manifest. This is what is happening with Jungkook. He is making his plans and taking action, like he has been trying to have a healthy routine, eat clean, exercise, practice his skills, etc but he is doing all of this from an outdated mindset. It’s like building a house of cards over a slanted surface. No matter how carefully you stack the cards, they come crashing down because the foundation is not right. His plans are great, his efforts are sincere, but are based on a very limited mindset. He thinks, well I’ll do this and this and then I’ll do that and that and then... but something goes wrong, some plans backfire, some work related problems come up, financial setbacks happen, and he is back to square one again. Then he feels unmotivated and goes into depressive episodes and eventually picks himself up and tries again but the whole thing happens again. He is now tired and feels he has no fights left and also feels it’s all useless because the Universe seems to be working against him. But that’s not the case. The Universe is simply telling him that no matter how hard he tries (because that’s kinda Jungkook’s mindset right now: if it didn’t work, try harder and harder next time), nothing will come to fruition if the mindset at the base of it all changes. And the same cycle will continue.

This crossroad is an opportunity for him to level up, not at the action point, but at the mindset point. He has to switch from the “work hard, struggle, chase” mindset to the “attract effortlessly” mindset. Now, this is not something new for Jungkook. Like I said, he is a natural intuitive and has actually attracted most of the things in his life quite effortlessly if you consider the fact that he has achieved more at 23 than most people have in their entire lives. The “struggle” is showing up because it is a crossroad. So no matter how competent, accomplished, or karmically good or bad you consider yourself to be, everyone struggles at some point or the other, when it is time to level up. I mentioned earlier that he is a Clairsentient and his comfort zone is to live his life according to his feelings without giving much thought to them and for a very long time, it’s worked out just fine. But now it is time for him to step into the role of a Claircognizant and to give a voice to his feelings. The Universe has been pushing this role at him for a while now, which has manifested in his life into a lot of overthinking, which is the shadow side of claircognizance. It entails a very active mind so at the beginning stages of honing this skill, you tend to struggle with overthinking and your mind sort of being all over the place. Think of your mind as an out-of-control river which floods everything around, but when you train your mind, and make it follow a course, it becomes life-saving. Because in the raw form, any spiritual gift comes with a lot of sharp ends, Jungkook is resisting this gift. He is stressed from all the overthinking and feels lost and out of control. So he tends to go back to his comfort zone and work from his old mindset and keeps facing obstacles. Now you might think, wow, being a Clairsentient is no joke either, so why bother about being a Claircognizant? Like leave the boy alone jeez. But like I always say, the Universe gives us all free will. There is no forcing him. He has made this choice when he started asking for this new, improved, happier life. This is something he is trying to manifest and to do that, he needs to have the right resources. At this point in his life, even being a Clairsentient (which is still awesome) is a limiting existence for him. Jungkook is an old soul. It might be interesting for you to know that he is the oldest soul in all of BTS and he is an older soul than his parents and brother as well! However, his old soul combined with a young mind and the fact that he is the youngest person in both his family and his BTS family, wreaks havoc within him. He often finds himself in situations where he feels deeply and profoundly but cannot express the depth of his feelings externally. This manifests as a throat chakra blockage even though he has a very strong and developed throat chakra (the reason why he is so expressive when he sings and is very facially expressive when dancing and just generally very expressive when he creates social media content from a fun, good mood space). Like I said, it’s a limit. So far it wasn’t as necessary to address this. But as he ages and his life progresses, he misses this skill set. He thinks it’s about his vocabulary, but it really is just about putting a voice to his inner feelings. He could feel it strongly inside when something is right or wrong, but he can rarely tell you why. He’s a good judge but he’s a terrible lawyer lol. And it’s not even telling or convincing others, it’s about telling yourself— KNOWING what you feel and why. Now, in this whole period of dilemma, he is starting to doubt his old gifts as well. He is starting to doubt his feelings and the ability to tell the right from wrong through his feelings— because that’s what energetic stagnation feels like; it feels like degeneration of everything that is, unless you decide to build something new upon the decaying old.

This jump from Clairsentience to Claircognizance can also be likened to the jump from the 3rd eye chakra to the Crown Chakra. And I don’t mean chakras in the sense that exist and govern various activities in our bodies. I mean it in the sense of the journey of consciousness of the various aspects of our existence, from the Root to the Crown. A renowned spiritual teacher had once said that the journey from the Root to the 3rd Eye Chakra has paths and procedures, but the journey from the 3rd Eye to the Crown Chakra has no path, no process, no formula. It is based on faith and faith alone. It’s a blind jump off the cliff, “knowing” that you are safe. Up until the 3rd Eye, you might be connected, but you are still operating within limits, all of which are of course self-imposed. Jungkook is at this point where he is asked by the Universe to step into his limitlessness. I have discussed in his career reading that he is meant to do some really huge things in his lifetime, which is crazy considering he already has done pretty epic things. The phrase “chosen one” always comes to mind when I talk about Jungkook, but I’d like to clarify this phrase first. We generally tend to see this term as something that sets one apart from others, as if they are special and privileged. But know that the Divine never differentiates. Each and every human has been created exactly the same in terms of capabilities. So it all comes down to free will and personal choice of which path each of us chooses. The thing to know about Jungkook is that he is one of the most sincere people on earth— actually as far as I’ve observed THE most sincere. And before Armys comes for me, yes, all of BTS are sincere. But spiritually speaking, Jungkook is still more sincere not just compared to the rest of the members but the general collective as well. He is, at his core, a very purpose-driven person. He is the least matrix-controlled, for those who know these concepts. He can’t do things just for the sake of it. It’s important for him to have meaning and purpose behind everything he does. Sadly though, he has spent the past few years doing exactly the opposite. He has been stuck in a cycle of activities that don’t bring joy to his soul and this has been sucking the life force out of him and he has been feeling more and more drained and has developed escapist tendencies. But it’s not that he has been externally forced to do these things, at least not always. It’s more so a result of lack of consciousness on his part. He didn’t know he was doing these things. He did what he did believing that he was doing the right thing— earning money, paying bills, securing a materially comfortable life— you know, all of the matrix stuff. But like I said, he does not easily fit into the matrix. While a lot of people spend their entire lifetimes plugged into the matrix, Jungkook is the type to sense discomfort very quickly and want to escape. The reason being, as I said earlier, he is an old soul and has lived many lifetimes developing awareness and his spiritual growth. This is why in this lifetime, he is naturally a lot more evolved than most (or all) of the collective. But since we do not remember our past lives and only carry that “growth” in our DNA, it’s something that is inherent to him without him actually knowing about it— until recently. Jungkook has been undergoing his spiritual awakening, and has been developing consciousness bit by bit— breaking out of the matrix so to speak. It’s this reason that he is “chosen” to do what he is about to do. Not because he has been unfairly selected out of many others, but because he has made this choice for himself and been working sincerely over many lifetimes. For this reason, Jungkook tends to have very pure emotions, and by pure I don’t mean non-sexual (because there’s nothing impure about sexual feelings). By pure I mean raw, unadulterated. He has very heightened sensibilities and feels every emotion to their purest essence, gifting him with high Emotional Intelligence. Unfortunately, this is not always a good thing because uncontrolled, he often tends to overwhelm himself with his mixed bag of feelings and this also causes the aforementioned escapism tendencies. And this is one more reason why he should level up. Regulating and organizing his myriad emotions and giving them a shape, a course will help him channel these gifts into fulfilling his dreams and creating big things in life. There are many things he can do, like journaling, writing down his dreams, goals, plans and procedure on paper, create routines based on his goals, etc but I feel like he is past this stage and is probably stuck in the part where he is doing everything and sometimes he has his wins but these wins are not becoming stable, and he is still getting his tower moments from time to time. This should mean one thing— he has reached the last stage of this journey, which like I said, is the journey to the Crown Chakra— the state of complete faith.

When discussing the concept of complete faith, we often use terms like blind faith, unquestioning faith, etc and while these terms are not exactly wrong per se, they can create misunderstandings. The Divine has blessed us with the ability to think, question and judge, not for nothing. Is it possible to have blind faith? Of course, lots of people do. But it’s also POTENTIALLY harmful to have faith in anything without actually having a knowhow of it. It’s not necessary of course, but for those who reach that level of consciousness, it is not just important, but absolutely essential to know the ins and outs and still have faith. I say it is more difficult to have complete faith with your eyes open than to have blind faith. Claircognizance at its best, is just that. While so far, your gut feeling has served you well and led you this close to the Divine, it is now time to employ your mind to catch up with your gut feeling and make sense of it all. While you learnt to open your eyes to the truth up until now, it is time to learn to keep your eyes open without blinking again and defend and embody the truth with your whole existence. This is literally the riskiest gamble. Like I said, jumping off the cliff. And that’s what Jungkook is being asked to do. So far he has been getting clarity about himself, his life and his path forward and treading cautiously with his small efforts and small wins, it is time for him to take the big leap forward. But the question of course is, how? And to where? While the details of this answer are with Jungkook, it has to start with releasing his limiting mindset. Have you ever noticed that whenever we have limited beliefs about something, either money or love or peace, the underlying belief is always that “I am limited”, “I have limited abilities”, “I have limited resources” etc. Meaning, any limits that we place on our external lives are actually limits that we think WE have. Money exists in this world, but I think I am limited in my potential to earn money. Love exists in this world, but I think I am limited in my potential to find love. You get the point. We actually do not think resources are limited, we think they are limited for us. Sometimes “us” means me as an individual, sometimes it means us as the entire population (cue: global warming, world peace, etc). Jungkook right now, is in the prime position to step out of this limited mindset into his unlimited potential. He has been operating from his limited mindset which is why his plans, no matter how well made, are failing. He has these big, beautiful dreams and has created this beautiful, peaceful life in his mind, but his old mindset is not aligned with this abundant life. The Universe has been nudging him in the direction of the mindset that he needs to adopt to align with his manifestations. I have written earlier somewhere that Jungkook thinks quite poorly of himself as a person and has self worth issues. In reality, he is the most sincere person Mother Earth has right now who has been working so hard for so long to reach this level of consciousness, it is safe to say no one else is as worthy as him to get everything that we wants. But by having these beliefs about himself, he is blocking the rewards that are meant to come to him. It’s like he has paid the price in advance, but is not accepting the delivery. Both because of being BTS’ golden youngest, Korea’s national pride, all the sweeping predictions about his future, and also his inner voice speaking to him, he is almost too aware of the great big things he is supposed to achieve, and although he does want them, a part of him is also scared and wants to run and hide and settle for something far less aka stay put in his comfort zone— all because of his limited mindset where he thinks he is not worthy of such things. And if you think you’re not worthy, obviously you’re going to think that it’s going to be an impossible task, which eventually either makes you take all the wrong actions, or not take action at all. This is why, no matter what his goals and plans, and no matter what actions he thinks of taking, he has to start with his mindset first. In fact, while manifesting, if I can tell you to do just one thing, it is to address the limits in your mindset. We’ve heard this many times and it sounds so simple but it really is the most, if not only, important step that matters. If the mindset is aligned with your goal, all actions will effortlessly flow towards that goal.

I feel like Jungkook has reached a level of self awareness and inner self dialogue where he is able to identify where his thoughts and emotions are going. He has definitely gotten a far better grip on his emotions than when I started this page, and contrary to what he thinks, his growth has been swift. It’s just that, we always expect a linear growth but that doesn’t happen with spirituality. And so every time he has a down time, he feels like he is back to square one. More so because Jungkook has such a perfectionistic and high achiever mentality. The reason why he seems to be going in a loop right now is because he has learnt and achieved everything that he has to with his current “limited” mindset. Hi future goals require him to grow out of that, not because his goals are something huge and difficult to achieve (because literally small and big are subjective both to humans and to the Universe) but because having a limitless mindset simply means to believe that I am worthy of achieving anything and everything I desire— without conditions. This is the mindset that Jungkook needs to work on adopting right now and everything else will smoothly flow from there. He needs to utilize the power of his mind— awareness, reasoning and self dialogue— to identify wherever he limits himself from believing his worthiness to achieve what he wants to have, and continue this practice until this new “I can f***ing have anything that I want” mindset is his default. Does it worry you that Jungkook will become an egotistical prick after that? Don’t worry, his soul has done enough work in the past to be grounded and humble through it all. This mindset is different from the ego-driven power-hungry mindset. Why? Because this power is the Source power. When we settle into our Crown Chakra consciousness aka Divine consciousness, we plug ourselves into the Source’s limitless creative power. The difference between ego-driven power and Source power is that while the former separates the individual from others, Source power recognizes the individual’s power as connected to and drawing from the Cosmos and therefore one we must give back to. It’s this constant cycle of giving and receiving in the Universe that makes Source power limitless, while the ego’s idea of power is one-sided and therefore finite.

Jungkook is kind of stuck in a place where, because he sees himself as limited, he looks to others to guide him, assure him, and provide him with the knowledge and direction that he needs. And that is because he has been disconnected from Source— not literally, but consciousness-wise. So far it wasn’t too bad, but now it is time for him to let go of the need for mediators and plug himself directly to the Source, i.e. work on his Crown Chakra. And as I mentioned earlier, it is as simple as just using your conscious mind to tell yourself, or more accurately, remind yourself, of your worth and your limitlessness. Jungkook feels like he needs someone to guide him, but he has forgotten that he has been prepared for the exact same task that he looks to another to do. Now this has a connection to his Twin Flame journey because his twin is at the same threshold, ready to level up to the same stage. The only slight difference is that she has already made her choice to level up to the new stage of limitless consciousness. And now it is up to Jungkook to make his. Do you what that means? It means a Union is on the horizon! After a long period of back and forth— one of them goes through a stage first then the other follows, and vice versa— they are finally going to be on the same page energetically, if Jungkook makes the choice. This is significant because Jungkook has been thinking that Union was something that was out of his control and he had nothing to do but to sit and wait, but all the while, it was a choice he had to make. Now, of course, this choice is not as simple as saying Yes or No. It’s a choice of consciousness— a consistent way of life that will, over time, upgrade and align their mindsets so they are both at the exact same stage. As twinflames, Jungkook and his DF are like the same person living in 2 different, alternate universes, with completely different lifestyles, work situations and challenges and the way they process these situations and challenges are similar, but not on the same page at the same time. They are soully same, yet because of their mortal forms being born and being raised in different environments, their ego-bodies have retained conditioning that make them different from each other in many ways, but as they shed their ego programming and connect more and more with their soul and with Source, they will be on the exact same page. This is when Union will occur. When they truly become one person in heart and mind. But this stage right now (i.e. before Union) is also the most challenging because this is where Separation truly happens. Physical separation is the least important aspect of the TF separation. This is where they are both on their own. They must individually find their faith aka go back to the Source, because without their connection to the Source, there is no TF connection; it becomes just another earthly connection riddled with alternating bouts of joy and sorrow, peace and pain. Usually in this journey, one twin is a more advanced journeyer than the other, who first “activates” the other i.e. leads them to their consciousness and guides them, usually energetically where when one twin crosses a stage, the other is literally pulled into that stage for them to cross. It’s like only one twin gets to make the choice and the other has no choice but to follow suit. This is also the reason why one twin feels more helpless and out of control. They are literally being yanked around by their twin’s energetic choices lol. But at this juncture, the guide twin has to leave the other twin’s hand, not because they don’t want to hold on, but because they can’t— they have nothing more to offer. This is where both twins get to make their choices individually. This stage is new for both of them and therefore they must individually cross this stage and meet at the other side. This is the period of ultimate spiritual growth, the after effect of which is blissful togetherness. But possible only if both twins make their choice to move forward.

 I’ll end this post with a message from Jungkook’s DF:

 Jeongguk,

I hope you’re holding up okay, partner, cuz I know I’m getting my ass kicked. Did you absolutely hate this journey? Because I didn’t. Just like you, I didn’t know what I signed up for either. I made a simple wish and this road has been bumpy but it has also had the most incredible views along the way. The way I have grown over these recent times compared to my whole entire life is crazy! I love who I have become and who I continue to become. And I believe you had a part to play in this. I know you don’t believe that so much. I know you battle with your own doubts, fears and insecurities, just like I battle with mine. You still measure your importance with how much you do for others. But maybe someday I can tell you how much you have done for me simply my existing as who you are. Because who you are will determine what you will always do, not just once or twice. And you have grown so much too! I have sensed that often. But unless we learn to recognize our growth, we don’t see it. But since I had VIP seating lol I got to watch you grow. Sometimes you resisted, sometimes you fought, sometimes you hoped, sometimes you held on to the faith when I was ready to give up, sometimes you were hurtful and challenged me to find within myself new depths of love and understanding. You made me cry, you made me laugh, you made me angry, you made me blush. But you never left. And I didn’t leave either. We tried though. Both of us. And failed. Repeatedly. It’s been frustrating and funny. How we thought we could get away and the Divine kept guiding us back to each other. You know, I think the problem is that we’re both helplessly curious idiots. Always wanting to know more, always wanting to move ahead. Obstacles never had a chance with us. We were always the introspective types, you and I, always looking to solve our problems, hungry for growth. As they say, careful what you wish for.

I am aware of your expectations of me, always was. But I had to hold back. I couldn’t do anything that I wasn’t fully ready to do. Right or wrong, I had to do as I felt guided to do— it’s my sovereign right. I guess because deep down I knew that you would understand. Of all people, you would understand. And I was right, you did. You threw hands and made a mess often lol but you still did understand and patiently stuck around each time. I know it seems like I’ve been running further and further away from you, but I have actually been getting closer to you. Spiritually. I guess soon it’s going to be visible as well. Now there is this stage. It feels like a strange place to be in right now. Good strange. I know you are scared and doubtful and expect me to assure you that everything will be alright. How can I? I am scared and doubtful too. Every day, I am in these juxtaposed energies of faith and doubt, sorting through them like... one moment I am super believing, another moment I’m all nope can’t do.

I know you want me to say that I love you and that I always will, and to promise that if we take this journey, I will be there waiting for you. And I want to. I really REALLY want to make these promises to you. But in the past I have been in situations where these promises were made and then conveniently forgotten later. I’m trying not to let my past control my present or future but I have also learnt that words can be forgotten, but intentions are forever. And that is what I want to say to you: I have the intention. I intend to make this work. When the time is right, I intend to give this my best shot. Tbh, I feel like I have been giving this my best shot for a while now, but maybe we don’t agree on that lol. And I also want to tell you that I’ve never felt about anyone else what I feel about you and I don’t think anyone else can ever take your place in my life. What that means exactly I don’t know yet.

The reason why I tell you neither what to do nor what not to do is because I don’t want to control your life. I know you me to show some ownership on you, and you on me, but believe me, you’ll hate it there. I’ve been there suffocating and it’s the most beautiful feeling to make your own mistakes, learn your own lessons, and watch yourself become your own artwork masterpiece and I don’t want to take away that experience from you. This is not my apathy. This is my gift to you. Also, yes I’m a pretty generous and just generally amazing person lol but do you really think I write pages after pages for just anyone and for no reason? Put two and two together silly.

You doubt your worth so much and since I do that too, I know how that works and won’t hold that against you, but it seems like now you have no choice but to see your worth. You must know, that I’m leaving you alone only because I’m confident you’ll find your own way. I’ll admit, I haven’t always been confident in you. Maybe I will falter again. But don’t you see, that’s the point? I will never be fully confident in you until you are confident in yourself. The more you doubt, the more I doubt too. But I’ve been observing you for a long time now and it’s just so hard to not trust you. Even with all the doubts and apprehensions constantly attacking me from all directions, I keep going back to you. I really hope my gut feeling about you is right or I’ve just made a big booboo lol. The funny thing is, I don’t care as much now. It’s almost like, fine, if anything, this will go down in my history as a wonderful, fun mistake and I don’t think I will ever regret it because in this moment I’m doing what I want to do— either it leads to a reward or a lesson, both are welcome. I have never been THIS vulnerable in my life like I hear myself say these things and I sound so crazy and stupid lol I’m so not my sassy and smartassy self right now.

As I was saying, I really do believe you’ll find your way. I don’t even know what that way is, or what your problems are, but I know you will solve them all. I’ll just be here, solving mine. How do I know for sure we can solve all problems? Because each one of the 7 billion people can. The only reason they don’t is that they don’t have a strong enough reason to push themselves to do that. Do we have a strong enough reason? How much do our dreams mean to us? For me, I have had this picture painted of this perfect life for a while. And yes, it has you in it. Very prominently. In my mind, it’s this beautifully balanced, harmonious, vibrant relationship with a forever after. And I don’t want to ruin that picture for short term hedonism. So I really believe, if our reason is strong enough, if this means that much to us, no obstacle can limit us from getting what we want. You’re not the only one who goes after what he wants and never gives up. I’m somewhat of that breed too. It’s just that this has clearly been a journey and it has brought some wild surprises along the way. I’ve struggled but now I’m learning to accept anything that comes with it. If the road leads me to my destination I don’t care how bumpy it is. It’s literally up to you right now. And I promise, it’s not even that difficult when you let go of resistance. All you have to do is consistently believe that you have limitless power to achieve anything you want and to create your reality the way you want it. I know it’s been a struggle and it feels like just the opposite, but it’s been that way because believe it or not, YOU have had these limiting beliefs about yourself and what you can create. I also know it’s been a long road and you’re tired, but it’s safe to drop the defences now. You might feel like certain situations or certain people are out of your control and how could you ever have things work your way, but it’s all in the mindset. The moment you reset your mindset and stick with it, you will see your reality change. In any situation, do not focus on the external events— they are simply the results of your previous mindset. Rather, ask yourself, what limiting thoughts and beliefs you have in your mindset right now and proceed to change them. I promise to you, people and situations will change to suit your needs, without ever having to deal with anyone. All this WILL happen, so don’t give up until they do. Twinflame, soulmate, karmic, friends, partners, colleagues— everyone will adjust according to your needs when YOU step into your limitlessness. Remember, it’s not just you who are tied to your karmics, they are tied to you too. An attachment exists from both sides. You don’t have to worry over the other person severing the tie, it’s enough if you let go of your end. Ask yourself, what are the common energies I share with my karmic? Identify these energies, heal the underlying trauma and ascend from them. This automatically ends your karmic contract and your karmic is free from you as well, no matter what their status is. The reason your karmics exist is because deep in your mindset you still believe that that’s your place and that’s what you’re worthy of— it’s part of the comfort zone you’re still stuck in.

I wish you well, my favorite human, I really hope I find you at the end of this journey. I want everything that you want. There are so many shared dreams and goals that we have— I will tell you all about my dreams one day. Until then I need to live some of these on my own, go on a little solo adventure, while I let you go on yours. And when it’s over and we’re ready (and no we’re not ready right now no matter how much you try to convince me lol) I promise I will see you again. When and how, I have no idea, but I’m happy to leave that to however the Divine guides us. I promise I’ll never forget you because I literally can’t. Love you!

[trainertips]

Pokemon Care Basics

okay so let's assume you've done your homework on what species of pokemon would be right for you. what now? well here comes the "fun" part, which is preparing for your new companion via brushing up on the basics of care. it gets easier in practice tbh ad a lot of this is preparation you don't have to do again, like buying bedding etc

here's a list of things you need to know and why they're important

Species-relevant behaviors. Every type of pokemon has similarities, but each individual species have quirks. you gotta prepare for them. I can't give detailed ideas here because my god there's hundred of kinds. basically, take into account the individual needs of your companion.

Nutritional needs and amount of feeding. every pokemon has different dietary needs, though general type-specific food often gets the job done. depending on the species, they'll have different needs and specific foods they want. also, figure out their nature ASAP. this will save you a lot of heartache in the coming days meal planning.

Energy level and battling. The best way for a pokemon to have a healthy outlet for their energy is through battle and exercise. You don't have to be a professional to go out and have a few spars within your community. There are battling centers, pokemon parks, and route-organized groups of trainers also willing to fight with you. Look into your local events, it's a great way to be more active in the community.

Grooming needs. all pokemon have different care necessities, and you need to know them (preferably before choosing a breed). some scaled pokemon need to be oiled, a lot of short hair pokemon require brushing, and some rodents need dust baths. make sure you know what's required and how often your pokemon needs to be groomed. I'll go more in depth in another post on this one

Nesting/den/bedding and appropriate enclosure space. A lot of people who own pokemon do so in their homes, which is certainly not wrong, but some species will require specialized living spaces. A litten is a cute lap cat until it evolves, in which it will require other space to itself. You CANNOT keep your pokemon in their pokeballs all day. While these are comfortable and can often act as a portable den space, pokemon cannot be cooped up in their balls all day, and require enrichment and appropriate comfort. ideally, your companions should spend at maximum 25% of their day in their balls (bar the exception of traveling, which may require longer periods in balls. but you can't drag a bed with you on the road anyway, so this doesn't apply anyway lol)

Training away from destructive behaviors and proper boundaries. This is a BIG one most new trainers don't do right. a gible who bites your table legs is only so cute as its fangs don't leave lasting damage; when it evolves into a wild-tempered gabite it will still think it's okay to bite your furniture unless you stop that nonsense early. your pokemon also have to be socialized properly. yes, even if you don't intend on letting them out in public. you letting your gastly understand that sometimes it has to hold its tongue around strangers will be the difference between a few hours of discomfort when you have a repairman over and a lawsuit from being poisoned.

remember that this is a basic overview, specifics of these points should be researched properly for your breed and talked to with your local Pokemon Center and breeder/organization of choice.

[bbdaydreams]

Courage My Love// Semi Eita

Pairing: Semi Eita x Reader

Summary: You like Semi and come up with a plan to confess to him, unfortunately it takes a turn. You meet again a couple years later by chance.

Chapter Eight: Teenage Dream

Series Masterlist•<previous•next>

A week into the tour and your body finally decided to allow you wake up before two in the afternoon. You stretched your body a little bit in your bunk before getting up and out to finish stretching. You checked the surrounding bunks and saw that only Haruka was still sound asleep while the others were empty. Making your way to the lounge you found your missing members and greeted them. They gave you back a robotic response while peeking out the window.

“The hell are y’all looking at?”

“The boys,” Yui answered. “I’m waiting to see if one of them eat shit.”

“Yui, what the-“

“Look, look, look!” Izumi whispered, stretching her arm behind her in an attempt to grab you to pull you towards them. You placed your knees on the bench to watch through the blinds with them.

Semi, Subaru, and Ranmaru were wearing plain t-shirts and gym shorts while Jiro wore a buttoned up blue flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black skinny jeans. The three elders from the group seemed to be running back and fourth from one end of the parking lot to the other while Jiro was skating a few feet away.

“How long have they been doing this?” You asked, turning away from the window.

“No clue- oh shit!” Izumi exclaimed, jumping up and running over to the main door to hop off the bus.

“That was a bad wipeout,” Yui added, following after the bassist. You followed after them, hesitating a little bit because you had just woken up and were in your sleepwear. Saying ‘fuck it,’ you threw on a pair of slip ons before following the others.

“Jiro!” Subaru and Ranmaru yelled before running over to their guitarist.

“Dude! You good?” Semi asked, crouching down to help Jiro sit up.

“Yeah, I’m good. Where’s my board?”

“I’ll go grab it,” Yui said as she headed towards the direction of there the skateboard rolled off to.

“What happened? I heard yelling,” Haruka asked. She was stepping off the bus still in her pajamas and rubbing her eyes, making it clear that she had just woken up. Her eyes landed on Jiro who was sitting on the pavement. He looked at her with panic in his eyes as she took in his disheveled look. “Why are you bleeding?”

“I- I’m okay, no need to worry-“

“You have a giant hole in your jeans that shows your red scraped knee, you have scratches on your face, and I can see the blood droplets on your flannel!” Haruka exclaimed, turning back around getting onto the bus.

“Is she pissed?” Jiro asked.

“Nah, just concerned. She probably went to grab our first aid kit,” Izumi answered. “You should probably take off your flannel though, that’s a pretty big stain on your elbow.”

Jiro unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a black t-shirt. Haruka came back with the kit and knelt next to the heterochromatic male. She took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some gauze making him gulp, knowing what was to come. “Do you have to use that?” Jiro asked, gradually moving his arm away from her.

“Yes, now sit still,” Haruka responded.

“Here’s the board I ran as fast I could as soon as I saw-“

“Fuck!”

“-the brown bottle,” Yui laughed. “Guess nurse Haruka has it under control.” The rest of you laughed at Jiro’s reaction and left Haruka to tend to his wounds.

“What are you guys doing anyways?” Izumi asked the three older males.

“Oh, we were working out. Jiro does his own thing for exercise which is mostly either parkour or skating,” Subaru responded.

“Or as we call it, just Jiro things,” Ranmaru added on. “You guys are free to join us during our workouts though, makes things more fun.”

“Haruka and I might join you guys,” Yui responded.

“Pass from Izumi and I,” you spoke up.

“And why’s that? Nice pajamas by the way, very festive for summer with the snowflakes,” Semi teased.

“Leave me alone. Sweating is gross. And personally I get bored doing the same thing repetitively. I’ll go on a walk, maybe jog a little bit, but that’s about it.”

“Sweating is gross, huh?” Semi asked with a devious look in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare come near me,” you responded, taking a few steps back as Semi walked closer to you.

“What? I just wanted to give you a hug, especially while you wear your cute pajammies.”

“Stay the fuck away from me. Semi. Semi! No!” And now you were running away from the 180cm tall former setter, who you know could catch up to you at any time. You still chose to take your chances though.

“He’s never gonna let her go, is he?” Ranmaru asked Subaru.

Izumi and Yui heard him loud and clear which peaked Yui’s interest. “Ahhh so he still has feelings for our leader. How cute.”

“Keep this between us, but yeah,” Subaru spoke. “Does she have any feelings left for him?”

“Honestly, we’re not sure. She never talked about him after the whole thing went down. She’s been with other people but she’s never been over the moon for them. It doesn’t help that she’s also super independent. It makes us think sometimes that she’d rather be single. There’s nothing wrong with that either, but at the end of the day we think it’d be nice for her to find someone,” Izumi spoke, watching you run around the bus only to yell out you were going back to sleep right when Semi caught up and wrapped his arms around you. “You guys might not believe it but how she’s acting now with him is no different to how she’d act with other people. Maybe it’s because of all the touring we do but she’s so open with people that it’s hard to read her. We love her and she’s fun to be around with but when it comes to her, it’s hard to tell what she wants.”

“We see. Eita’s sort of been the same in relationships. He’s gone on dates too but he’s never been whipped for any of them. Like he’ll do his best to please them and shit like a good partner should, but if you look at him from a distance it feels almost forced. He wants to love but it’s like fake love, if that makes any sense,” Subaru spoke.

“What about your drummer girl? Also between us, Jiro still seems to like them a lot,” Ranmaru asked, deciding to bring light to the other potential couple.

“Wait, what do you mean still? From what we know, they were friends during their final year but that’s it,” Izumi explained , now confused.

“Jiro fell for her hard during that year like he would come home and talk to us about her and ask for advice if he couldn’t ask his older brother. The thing is he was labeled the dumb hooligan while Haruka was the typical quiet good girl so he didn’t want to taint her record. You know how people talk in high school. He was convinced she shouldn’t be with a fool like him, so he never spoke up,” Subaru followed up.

“Ah. Well I think they’ll be together by the end of the tour, maybe even week. I can feel it,” Yui said.

“And what about you guys? Are you single?”

“I have a boyfriend,” Izumi quickly answered. “He’s back in Japan.”

“I’m single. My reason being it’s hard finding people you wanna know more about, ya know?”

“Really now?” Subaru answered, looking at Ranmaru.

“Yui, are you sick? I think you’re lacking some vitamin me,” Ranmaru said, attempting to put his arm over Yui’s shoulders.

“No! Me!” Subaru argued.

Before either of them could touch her, Yui grabbed their forearms and tugged on them to bring them closer. When they jumped a little closer together she took their hands and placed them in each other’s before letting go. Yui looked over and Izumi who was smirking from trying to hold in a laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Dumb and Dumber. Since I apparently have you guys weak at the knees it appears you might be lacking vitamin D. You two should get to know each other and solve that problem,” Yui responded as she gave them a fake smile. “Let’s go Izu,” she laughed, turning from the boys to get back onto the bus.

Semi came back to the two white haired males and crossed his arms before speaking. “You guys are idiots.”

“Karaoke night!” Haruka cheered when your set finished that night.

“We just got done playing and you’re this excited for karaoke? At least act tired,” Izumi whined, leaning forward to place her hands on her knees after she set her guitar down.

“Haru,” Yui started before taking a deep breath, “what the fuck.”

“Mmmm, nice cold floor,” you said, letting your body collapse on the black tiles the backstage had to offer.

“Y/n, no!”

“Get up people walk there!”

“It’s dirty!”

Too tired to figure out who said what, you let out a groan and got up. “Fine I’m up, I’m up. I need a baby wipe though. I’m all sweaty and gross.” Making your way over to your green room you bumped into One Ok Rock. “Hey guys.”

“Hello, hello. You guys sounded amazing as always,” Taka complimented.

“Thanks! Oh! Do you guys have plans after your set?” Haruka asked.

“Sleep,” Ryota responded which made the others laugh.

“Ah haha, did you guys have something in mind?” Toru asked.

“We’re all off tomorrow so we were gonna have a karaoke night on our bus,” Yui explained.

“And there’ll be booze!” Izumi added.

“We’ll try to pop by then,” Tomo answered. You wished them luck before heading into your dressing room to clean up a little bit before meeting your fans.

Yui and Haruka were currently making dinner while while you were showering and Izumi was setting up the karaoke system.

“Oh fuck, we forgot to invite Won’t Regret,” Yui mentioned.

“I’ll text RoRo!” Haruka lit up.

“How could we forget to invite all of your guys boyfriends?” Izumi teased.

“Jiro is not my boyfriend!”

“I never said he was,” Izumi responded with a smirk.

“Does this make thing one and two mine?” Yui asked.

“Lol, yeah. Are you gonna tell them?”

“Yeah, I don’t need them annoying me. I have enough to put up with.”

Stepping out of the shower with a towel around your body you looked over at the girls and saw they were still doing what they did when you last saw them. “Hey, is dinner- oop gotta go!” You exclaimed, running to your bunks and closing the door because there was a knock at the front of the bus.

“It’s open!” Izumi yelled. Coming up the steps was Taka and Toru with smiles on their faces. “Hey! Welcome to our bus! Did the others decide to call it a night instead?”

“Yeah. They’re parents now so they age faster and need more sleep,” Toru laughed.

“No worries. C’mon in and take a seat. We just finished cooking if you’d like some food,” Haruka said, showing them a plate she had already prepared.

“Taka and Toru just got on the girl’s bus. Wonder what’s going on over there,” Ranmaru said aloud as he glanced out the window.

“Who what now?” Semi asked, looking up from his phone.

“Oh they’re doing some karaoke tonight. RuRu just texted me to invite us,” Jiro answered.

“RuRu? Do you mean Haruka? You guys have nicknames for each other already?” Subaru teased, laughing at Jiro’s reaction.

“Look at how red he is!” Semi roared.

Subaru looked over at Ranmaru, smirking knowing he was about to roast Semi. “Boy if you don’t shut up! Go look in a mirror before judging him!”

“Eh?!”

“Eita, every time Y/n is around you put all your attention on them. It’s like you’re a bee fixated on a flower. Just non stop buzz buzz buzz around them.”

“Okay, I get it.” Semi sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. Please just ask them out already.”

“I can’t do that, bro. It’s too soon. We’re just friends for now.”

“We have 5 weeks left on this tour. You’re gonna have to ask them out before then. Who knows if we’ll see them again after this.”

Letting Ranmaru’s words sink in he realized the reality of it. After the tour was over your band would probably go on your own tour to promote your new album in Europe, Australia, Japan and maybe even the US again whereas his band would probably only do Japan. You’d be busy touring and focusing on yourself you wouldn’t have the chance to see each other again. “Fuck. You’re right.”

“I’m always right. Anyways I’m headed to bed. Have fun at karaoke.”

“I’m going to bed too. Night,” Subaru yawned.

“Guess it’s just us,” Jiro laughed before tilting his head to ask “let’s go?” to which Semi responded with a head nod. They told their bus driver they’d be on the other bus so he could drive off if they didn’t come back by midnight.

“Alright that’s the theme tonight?” Yui asked Izumi, covering her mouth since she was chewing. They were both currently sitting on the small kitchen counter while Taka and Toru were sitting around their dining table and Haruka was standing off to the side.

“Let’s have our guests have the honor! Hit the button to spin the wheel,” she explained as she jumped off to hand her phone to the two older men. “Ooo, looks like we’re doing ‘Women in Pop’!”

Hearing knocking from the front door, Yui yelled it was open. Semi and Jiro walked in and greeted everyone. “It smells so good,” Jiro stated, eyes lighting up once he spotted the meal that was cooked.

“Take a seat and I’ll give you a plate. Semi, would you like one too?” Haruka asked. Semi nodded his head and they both accepted the meal after thanking them for the hospitality. After they were seated Yui got them up to speed to what they were doing.

“We should probably go first to show them how it’s done,” Haruka stated.

“I kinda wanna finish my food,” Izumi mumbled which made Yui jump in and say ‘me too’. Luckily for Haruka, you had just come out of the bunk area in sweats. “Look at that, Y/n can sing with you.”

“What did I do in the first five seconds of me appearing for me to go first?” You asked confused.

“Show up. Here is your mic,” Yui responded, making you playfully roll your eyes at her.

“How do you decide what song to sing?” Taka asked.

“We just decide between ourselves. Any song is good as long as it fits the theme,” Haruka responded. You let Haruka pick and take the lead for the song as you backed her up and sang your parts while also trying to match her energy in small dance gestures. When you finished you handed your microphone to Toru who asked to go next and Haruka handed hers to Izumi. Fixing yourself a plate you took Toru’s spot and sat next to Taka while Haruka took Izumi’s spot.

“Yo,” Semi started to grab your attention, leaning forward to not speak into Taka’s face.

“Yo,” you responded.

He smirked before continuing, “nice pajamas.”

You let out a small chuckle before looking back at him. “Leave me and my comfy clothing alone, asshole. I am cozy.”

Laughing at the nickname you gave Semi, Taka decided to jump in. “Hey Eita, we should go next.”

“Eh, I don’t know. Honestly I’m not much of a karaoke guy.”

“Boo, Semi you’re no fun,” you pouted while eating your food.

“Yeah, Eita you should try it out,” Jiro added.

Semi threw his head back and grunted in disapproval before turning his head to look at you. As he leaned back you did as well and gave him a child like smile, showing as many teeth as you could with your lips curved upwards as a friendly way to encourage him. Letting out a small chuckle, he leaned forward and let his forearms rest on the table. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

“Yay!” You, Taka, and Jiro cheered. Izumi and Toru sang Party In the U.S.A. by Miley Cyrus which had the group laughing when Toru tried to reach the high note and when he tried to mimic Izumi’s dancing. When they were done you all applauded for them.

“Do you have an idea for a song?” Semi asked Taka, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, yeah. I wanna do Beyoncé! Is Single Ladies good?,” Taka responded with a giant grin.

“I’m good with that.” The two got up from their spots and you and Jiro slid into their spots so others could sit as well. They accepted the mics from Izumi and Toru, Taka stretching afterwards to ‘loosen his body up’.

When the music started, Taka started moving his shoulders from side to side while Semi lightly bobbed his head along to the beat. Taka took the lead and sang the first verse. As the song progressed Taka put his body more into the flow making you all get louder for him to cheer him on. Leaving the second verse to Semi he moved his torso more into the song but he couldn’t compare to Taka, and it made him start overthinking a little.

He’s so much cooler and better than he is. Taka knows how to rile up a crowd. His performances are better than Semi’s but then again he does have more experience so he has to factor that into their differences. He’s so chill and laid back but also open and hilarious, he’s got it all.

Towards the end of the song when they were singing the last of the “all the single ladies”, Taka got closer to where you were sitting and went to hold your hand as he sang, causing the group to hype him up even more than they already where.

When they finished, you and Yui went next, opting to do Katy Perry. As you took the lead, Semi couldn’t keep his eyes off you and agree with the lyrics you were singing. He enjoyed your facial expressions as you sang and the way you carried yourself, somehow different than how you were on stage. Unfortunately Semi also couldn’t stop the negative thoughts that obscured his brain.

Semi noticed the blush on your face when Taka had the slightly intimate gesture with you. What if he’s not good enough for you? He doesn’t want to hold you back from being the happiest person you could be. Semi knows he’s not the funniest, most charming person in the world. Compared to your ex, Tendou, he knows they’re almost nowhere near similar. Tendou was more easygoing and knew how to light up the mood whereas Semi is more uptight, always concerned about others and what they think. If anything Taka was more like Tendou, a potential better option for you than himself. But he knows you all had just met recently so who knows if Taka is just being friendly or trying to get at something. Maybe you were just going to stay a teenage dream.

A/n: look at that an update. Sorry for taking so long, I’ve been tired but here ya go!

Taglist: @pluviophilefangirl @yourstarvic @sunaswife @mynscorner @itoshibaby @discountkiyoko @ibetonlosingcats @lilith412426 @soggyacidjuice

[yikesola]

Hiii!! I couldn’t resist and read all the spoilers you posted lmao 😂😂 thank you for posting them!!! But as you’ve finished the book- do you think there was a lot of juicy dan stuff in it? He kept saying there would be but I saw some perhaps questionable anons on some other accounts saying that it was all stuff we’d know already. What are your thoughts?

So I’m bundling these just bc it’s easier lol hope this helps!

It’s not a memoir, he didn’t get into salacious deets— but it’s not a wellness brochure promising a little yoga and celery and deep breathing will magically cure you either. he was personable and chaotic :’)

There were definitely moments he bared his soul, but it wasn’t an exclusive tabloid scoop, if that makes sense. It wasn’t “you won’t believe who Dan’s been sending nudes to” and “this relative said a ~slur~🤭” and “top five youtubers dan will NEVER collab with again!”

And the therapies/exercises were semi-familiar to me but explained in such a helpful way that like ,, I might actually effectively use them. Like instead of my therapist saying “just pay attention to your body when it tenses” and me saying “..okay?”

I also can’t praise enough that I think it’s so appropriately paced for what is immediate concerns (coming down from a panic attack) to turning point concerns (exiting a depressive episode) to long term concerns (meds and lifestyle and non-linear healing)

He wasn’t lying about the number of Easter eggs which us in the know ,, will know akdjf but I also think the general public will find it so damn helpful for what it is

there was A Lot about financial insecurity, which we like /knew/ about his upbringing and student loans and moving to london broke, but it just really put into context for me that like ,, until tabinof they were living off ramen and still not making rent :( which idk I knew they moved as a risk but then I assumed working for the bbc paid Something! It gave really good context for their work work work anxiety ;__; and it stopped any like “poor little rich boy” the mean corners of my mind would’ve wanted to pull forth, in a similar way to when he’d mention “and I’m British so I know I’m privileged to have health care, and I’m a white guy so I’m given systematic advantages in that way, other people will have additional hurdles and that simply isn’t fair” which was always a nice reality check

there was a bit about the canceled Philippine ii show which we all at the time assumed was a customs issue, and it kinda was but it was even Bigger than we thought, like all the stage equipment was detailed and the crew and them were detained and they couldn’t talk about it publicly and dan went into problem solving mode while Phil and the crew panicked and he admits like ,, he could’ve just panicked with them. It was a very panic-worthy moment, there was nothing HE could do to solve the problem! :( like I don’t want to say the Asian phannies who traveled very far specifically for that show had no right to be upset by the last minute change, I’m saying dnp don’t do things flippantly or callously and this is a really large scale example of how some things are simply out of their hands

he talked about making online friends on guild wars and how hard that is to make those specific friends but he did what we all do: scream at people and hope they like us lol and some of them did, some were weird, some ghosted him, and he’s got some he talks to all the time and who love him and check up on him and it reminded me so much of how us dumb phannies are and I hope he understands he and Phil have given us that :’’)

There was a lot of anecdotes that like the examples above we ~knew~ about, but now there’s a clearer and more human picture 🥺 stuff about his dad and about his “gonna get out of this small town!” compartmentalization and about his many many visits w doctors and therapists til he found the right ones, and so much more. It wasn’t necessarily brand new stuff he was offering unless Dan is new to you — what he gave was “Daniel and Depression: Extended Edition” and “Basically I’m Gay: Extended Edition” woven between genuinely digestible mental health exercises and contextual validation. Which makes sense, this isn’t a book Just for us, it’s gotta be accessible to more than his core audience, and saying things like “juicy” and “tea” might be kind of just promo language depending on what you’re looking for when he says something like that. But :’) I found it really satisfying. And it’s okay if you don’t, but I hope you do or at least helpful/enjoyable/interesting on whatever level you end up engaging with the text

It was good ;__; It wasn’t the big tell-all memoir I’m counting on him releasing for free as a pdf in 45 years, sure, but it was still very intimate and personable and Very Dan between the techniques and terminology ✨

[lovelylogans]

debutante

previous chapter / chapter three / next chapter

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: mentions of transphobia, food mentions, alcohol, kissing, someone makes an approach as if they’re going to start a fistfight but they do not, please let me know if i’ve missed anything else!

pairings: logince, moxiety

words: 15,031

notes: the spanish is from an online translator, so if it’s terribly wrong, please let me know! also, the emails in this are fake, please don’t try to email them, pretty sure they don’t exist lol. also the wine advice is from my general family's ideas about the value of wine, but the pretentious way you're meant to drink wine was taught to me when i was in italy by some other students who went to sommelier class, a few days before i posted the first chapter of wyliwf, so

⁂

patton’s lingering over one last (decaf, darn virgil) mug of cocoa/coffee when the bell over the door jangles. 

patton turns to glance over his shoulder and automatically brightens when he sees that it’s logan.

“hey!” he says eagerly. “i hope everything at the slange’s went okay, and even if it didn’t, i have masterfully wrangled virgil into allowing you to select a sweet treat of your choosing, or we can stop by lucy’s, if you want, and—oh!”

because logan had made a beeline straight for the counter, and has wrapped his arms around patton, burying his face in his shoulder.

“oh,” patton says softly, because—because logan’s not much of a hugger, and if he’s hugging him now... 

patton immediately wraps his arms around logan in kind, rubbing a hand up and down his back as he does so. logan’s taller than him—patton distantly wonders if that will ever not be strange to him—and so he has to duck his chin to place his face into the space between patton’s neck and shoulder. patton squeezes tighter, and logan shivers a little bit.

“oh, hey, buddy, are you okay?”

logan nods, but he doesn’t say anything, lingering with his face pressed into patton’s sweater for a couple seconds, taking a couple deep breaths, shoulders relaxing slowly, oh so painstakingly slowly, before he emerges, looking slightly embarrassed, in a way that feels distinctly teenager-y.

“sorry.”

“you don’t gotta apologize for hugging me, kiddo,” patton says, frowning, reaching out to cup logan’s cheek. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says. “just—” and he awkwardly reaches out to poke patton’s shoulder. “y’know. you’re my dad.”

“well, yeah,” patton says, still a little confused. “super thrilled i’m your dad, lo, have been for sixteen years and—how many days has it been since your birthday?”

logan’s lips twitch up into a little smile, and he settles into the chair next to him.

“d’you wanna talk about it?” patton says.

logan shakes his head, and he says very quietly, “not here.”

patton nods, absorbing this, but before he can say anything else, virgil comes out from the kitchen, rag and spray bottle in hand, ready to wipe down the counter.

“oh, hey, you’re back!” virgil says. “uh, your dad’s been taking decaf most of the night in order to get you a sweet, if you want one, even though nutrition doesn’t work like it’s split across two people—”

“can i get a brownie?” logan asks. “no offense, virgil, i just—kind of want to get home.”

“that’s cool,” virgil says, not at all offended. “one brownie, to go, comin’ right up.”

and so virgil plucks a brownie from the pastry case with a pair of tongs, setting it in a wax paper bag, before sealing that inside of a virgil’s diner to-go bag, passing it across the counter. “see you tomorrow for breakfast?”

“breakfast,” patton confirms, and leans forward, cheerfully demanding “kiss!”

virgil obligingly leans forward the rest of the way, giving patton a quick peck. patton passes over enough money to cover his meal and a tip, before he gently taps logan on the shoulder. 

“let’s go, then, the couch is calling my name,” patton says, like he isn’t even a little worried about what could have prodded logan into hugging him out of the blue.

they step out into the night, the bell jangling in harmony with virgil’s goodbye. patton tucks himself a little more snugly into his jacket—spring may be approaching, but winter wasn’t letting go without a fight, so he was stuck with steel-gray cold mornings and too-early sunsets for a while longer—looking over to logan, who’s backlit by the street lamps and the fairy lights dotting a few of the buildings around town. 

his face doesn’t give anything away. it almost never does, but patton studies his face anyways; stiff and unyielding, eyes sharp and looking out for any oncoming traffic. patton wishes a little bit that logan’s face would at least give him a little hint as to what happened at the slange’s, but logan just looks like he normally does, if a little stressed, and that could be for any number of reasons—school, or tiny bureaucratic roadblocks for the debutante ball, or a fight with dee, or just something to do with dee in general.

either way, patton jerks his head in the usual direction they walk to get home, and logan nods, falling into step beside him, the pair of them mirroring each other’s posture; hands in coat pockets, faces ducked to shield from any stray gusts of wind, their pace the same, the way it only ever is when you’re very used to walking to the same places with the same person.

they walk in silence for a couple minutes before logan takes a deep breath.

“can i ask you a morality question?”

patton smiles, just a little—journalistic morality and ethics questions are always interesting conversations with logan, as patton’s innate moral compass works well with logan’s encyclopedic knowledge of the history of journalism, so they tend to spend almost hours talking about stuff like this, hypothetical situations they can puzzle over together. plus, it’s a nice little insight into something logan’s so passionate about; it’s something they can do together that increases patton’s appreciation for logan’s talent.

“‘course you can!”

logan chews at the inside of his cheek for a few seconds, getting his question in order, before he says, “let’s say i’m interviewing someone. a peer.”

“yes.”

“and, not due to any prodding from said peer, i come into knowledge of something from… that peer’s family.”

ah. okay. so this might not be a hypothetical question.

“yes,” patton says cautiously.

“and if a previously established… editor,” logan says, edging carefully around it. “already knows sensitive information about said peer that was previously, ah. decided against publishing. if the reporter wished to ask advice, should they ask the editor, or keep said knowledge to themselves?”

patton rolls the question around in his head, removing the hypothetical-ness of it all. so, if patton knows sensitive information about dee that he’s already keeping secret, and if logan found out something else, then is it okay for logan to tell patton about it?

if patton knows one thing about dee, it’s that he’s secretive. the fact that dee has secrets isn’t surprising. the part that’s surprising him is that logan feels the need to get his dad’s opinion on the secret. so that probably means it’s a pretty serious secret—logan’s a smart kid, he knows what to do in a lot of situations, so if he feels like he needs patton’s help...

“well,” he says cautiously. “um. i guess it depends on the knowledge itself. is it going to hurt d—um, the peer, if no one knows? is it something that puts them in danger?”

“...no,” logan says. “i��ah, the reporter doesn’t think it will put the peer in physical danger.”

patton frowns. “so it would be more of an emotional distress situation.”

“yes,” logan says, relieved. “yes, exactly. it would put the peer in emotional distress. it causes the peer emotional distress.”

“currently?” patton says, frowning deeper.

“yes.”

“is the peer alone in knowing this? do they have other people to talk to about this in their personal life, not just the reporter and their editor?”

“technically,” logan says and frowns. “the peer and their family… employs people. so, the staff are aware of the situation, but they aren’t—friends.”

“the peer’s family?” patton says, glancing. “is that an option, for them to talk to their family?”

logan’s face deepens into a scowl. “it seems like that is not an option, given the information that the reporter has learned about the peer’s family.”

patton sighs, because, well. he probably should have expected that. dee’s dad was never particularly kind, but. he’d been hoping things like marriage and fatherhood might have changed him.

“um,” logan says, and gives patton a sidelong glance. “i thought a potential solution could be… offering the peer a space to come in and sl—um. interview. in the presence of the editor who already knows things. because the reporter feels out of their depth, but—but maybe the peer will decide to discuss things with the editor, who seems to have more expertise in this… area.”

the sleepover text, patton realizes. logan bringing dee over doesn’t just mean more planning, or an easy place for dee to stay after Get Cultured day; it’ll mean that patton will be there, too, and if they all get to talking, like last time, and dee lets something slip, like last time, or (more preferably to patton) if dee decides that patton seems like an adult he can trust with information, if patton seems like an adult who can give out sound advice...

“that seems like a great choice for the reporter to have made,” patton says, smiling at logan. “not divulging any confidences, but offering a way for the peer to decide if they want further support or not. agreed. that was a good moral exercise.” 

logan nods. “on a completely unrelated note, i texted you earlier—”

“oh, yeah, totally unrelated,” patton agrees, winking. “but—yeah, that sounds good to me! totally down for that, it’s been a while since you’ve had a slumber party. have you already asked dee over?”

“no, not yet,” logan says, and that line of conversation has carried them to the front door of their house, where patton steps ahead of logan to unlock the door and let him in, flicking on the light as logan divests himself of his backpack and his jacket.

“well, you can go ahead and do that, i may as well mention now that you don’t need to get some gloves, i ordered some,” patton says, “so we can cross that off the list. um, your escort—what’s her name again?”

“poppy,” logan says.

“right, poppy,” patton says. “one, do you know if she’s coming to Get Cultured day, and two, does she have a tux?”

“i’ll text her and ask,” logan says. simultaneously, they collapse on the couch. logan makes no move to text her. instead, he frees his brownie from virgil’s, breaks it in half, and hands one half to patton. patton, grinning, accepts it.

“so,” patton says, taking a bite of the brownie. “how was the slange’s house, anyway?”

logan turns wide, beleaguered eyes to patton. “rich people are ridiculous.”

patton snorts and tucks his legs up underneath him, propping his head on his hand. “tell me about it.”

⁂

dee’s eyebrows arch at him as logan opens up his lunchbox. logan’s had his lunchbox for a few years, so it’s not quite as pristine as it was when he first bought it, after a lot of time spent in backpacks with heavy textbooks, and dropped on the ground, and shoved into lockers, but logan still likes the design of it—it’s black, with white sketchings of chemical formulas.

logan glances at his ziplocked jam sandwich and back up at dee. “what?”

“i don’t know how you can eat the same thing every day,” dee says.

“just for lunch,” logan says, removing a clementine. “and the fruits and vegetables change seasonally. dessert depends on what grocery store sales are on. what do you have for lunch, anyway?”

dee, wordlessly, proceeds to remove a gold-foil-wrapped something from his lunchbox, a black yeti-branded one, and logan eyes it.

“that’s excessive,” he tells dee.

dee shrugs. “yellow and gold are my favorite colors. shortly followed by black.”

“what, not brown?” logan says, eyeing his cape. “also, do you have a special understanding to flout uniform rules? ted grayson got pink-slipped because he wasn’t wearing a jacket or a sweater, how do you get away with—” he gestures vaguely to the bowler hat, the cape, the yellow gloves.

dee’s smile flits across his face so fast that logan thinks he might have imagined it, before he pulls out his phone.

“if you ever come to my parents’ house, i’ll show you my pink slip collection,” dee says decisively. he hands over the phone to logan, and logan obligingly looks.

it’s a wall full of filled-out pink slips.

“it’s the most precious art piece i own,” dee says in an officious tone, taking his phone back.

“how have you not been expelled,” logan breathes out disbelievingly.

dee’s smile is much less fleeting, this time, and he says, “anyways, speaking of clothes. you know a tailor, right? i need one for the ball.”

“well, tailor,” logan says with a shrug, beginning to peel his clementine. “it’s just virgil, but i could ask him. he’s doing a lot of dresses for sideshire high kids, is yours very complicated in terms of alterations?”

dee looks at him, before he says in a measured tone, “it fits perfectly fine, i just think the fabric at the shoulders needs reinforcing.”

logan blinks at him. “the shoulders?”

dee stares at him, for a few seconds, before he says in a purposefully casual tone, “yes, i had to look at a binder full of designs and i thought this one would be the best, what with the binder and all, but it turns out it needs a little bit of cover. some of the lace at the shoulder’s torn already, i need to make sure that’s hidden.”

logan promptly feels like an idiot—dee would need alterations to ensure that his secret’s kept, and if he’s wearing a binder and has a lacy shoulder, that would surely show—

“of course,” logan says. “i can ask him later. should i… tell him? about the… shoulder?”

dee chews at his lip for a moment.

“virgil’s my dad’s partner,” logan adds, as a means of explanation as to why he’s the tailor, but also to somehow pass along that virgil is supportive of trans people. “he’s been a bit puzzled by brick’s dress—brick’s nonbinary, they’re a year or so younger than us—but i think virgil’s managed to figure out how to customize the dress to best help brick feel comfortable. that was the biggest alteration, for a while, all the rest of the ones he’s doing are mostly hemming and the like. other than mine. mine used to be my dad’s, and he was quite a bit shorter than me at the time.”

dee chews at his lip a little harder.

“i’d tell only virgil,” logan says, and tacks on hastily, “about the, ah. torn lace at the shoulder. you don’t need to worry about that getting out to anyone else.”

“...i suppose you can,” dee says eventually. “as long as he’s discreet.”

“of course he is,” logan says. “you can let me know if you change your mind, though, i’ll probably tell him after dinner tonight. anyways. if we’re already talking about the debutante ball, shall we go over any of the more recent developments?”

dee nods, and the conversation turns to less fraught topics.

well. perhaps a little bit fraught, because if this blows up in their faces, logan still isn’t entirely sure of what repercussions could face him, but he’s sure there are repercussions.

poppy less casually enters dee and logan’s murmured conversation during lunch about the last touches before Get Cultured Day, and more quite literally shoulders her way in.

“so,” she barks, setting down her lunch tray with a clack, “what are the registration numbers looking like?”

logan looks at dee, and dee shrugs at him, tilting his head ever so slightly so his bowler hat covers his yellow eye, as if to say, you’re her partner, you’re less of a social threat than me, you handle it.

logan turns to poppy, and instead of saying any of that, asks, “aren’t you a freshman? why are you at sophomore lunch?”

she gives him a look, before she says, “so. numbers?”

“it looks like the final number of our participants is at forty-six,” logan says, “barring any last-minute entries, of course.”

poppy looks impressed for a moment, before she says, “i’ve gotten my tux, by the way. what’s your dress like?”

logan pulls up a photograph on his phone—the dress on the mannequin, not on himself—and tells her, “it’s still being altered, but it should be done by the end of the weekend.”

“you have your gloves, your fan, all of it?”

“yes. heels, too.”

poppy nods, and pulls out her planner, ticking talk to logan about dress off her list—logan spots bribery? and namedrop logan to dr. kramschissel and ask opinion on pitch as part of a sub-list underneath it—before she pulls out a manila folder and hands it to him.

“what’re these?” he says.

“design plans, new letterheads, and font families i think we should start using,” she says briskly. “oh, and a few new ways to update the website. that thing hasn’t been updated since before the dot com bubble burst, and we need to stay up-to-date on the latest design trends in the newspaper circle to be able to win a pacemaker, or at the very least continue the all-americans.”

(hey, a definition break from a former staffer here: all-american awards are distributed through the nspa, or the national scholastic press association, and the jea, or journalism education association. an all-american yearbook or newspaper is the highest rating given in critiques; it covers approximately the top five percent of high school and college publications in the entire country. the pacemaker is the highest award a high school publication can receive. these awards are basically high-school versions of pulitzers. and, uh, not to flex, but two-time all-american winner here!)

logan opens the folder, and his eyebrows arch at the infographic example greeting him. it looks incredibly professional, like an image in a magazine, with a color palette pleasing to the eye and simultaneously incredibly simple to read.

“so you’re a designer, then,” logan says; he’s dabbled in adobe photoshop and illustrator, and he knows better than most how long it takes to seem even slightly competent in illustrator, and by the looks of this, poppy is incredibly competent.

“artistic hobbies are proven to improve job performance, ease stress, and can improve memory and cognitive function,” poppy says matter-of-factly. “there’s no front-runner for design editor your senior year, which means there’ll be a gap, and if i prove early now that i know my stuff in design i can get an editor position my junior year. which means i put even more of an impressive resume forward to secure editor in chief my senior year. also, the style guide hasn’t been updated at this school in eight years. i want to write the newest edition.”

“...right,” logan says, and gestures vaguely with the manila folder. “have you shown these to mel?”

“obviously,” she says. “she said i had to wait until i got on staff, but my enthusiasm is apparently very encouraging. anyways, editor-in-chief gets a say in who the other editors are, so i figured i’d submit a portfolio early. also, there are pitches back there. you’ve already had three contribution bylines and i want your opinion on my chances of getting at least one this year.”

she takes the folder from him, flips past a couple pages, before she slides over another infographic, centered with empty boxes for photographs, placeholder text for an article. she’s designed an entire double truck layout. (double trucks are two facing pages in a newspaper; these are usually reserved for photo stories or large events. these are double trucks.)

DEBUTANTE HEADLINE HERE, it screams at the top of the page.

logan’s eyes flick across the table to dee, whose face is entirely blank, even though logan knows that an entire story about the debutante debacle would just draw more attention to what they threw the debutante event to cover.

“you’d have to be interviewed,” poppy says. logan cringes.

“i know, i know, you’re used to being the one who holds the pen,” poppy says. “but—”

“tell you what,” dee cuts in, voice smooth. “i know a way to pitch this to mel that benefits all of us, and won’t require poor logan to have to undergo the interview hell he’s used to submitting others to.”

“hey,” logan says mildly, without any heat.

poppy turns her attention to him, and dee digs out a pen, flipping it smoothly over his fingers.

“may i?” he says, gesturing to the mock-up.

poppy takes it from logan’s hands and passes it to him.

“right,” dee says, and draws a large circle around the infographic, jotting a p beside it, then circling one of the articles (headlined as DRESS SHOPPING PIECE?) and putting l beside it, along with the PARTICIPANT COLUMN, which also gets an l. DEBUTANTE STORY HEADLINE, he circles, and places a d beside it.

“there,” dee says matter-of-factly, capping the pen. “we all get actual bylines, not just contribution ones. logan can write a column and a dress piece, because he knows the person who’s altering sideshire dresses, and i can write the debutante piece, because i’ve been integral to the process, but i’m not as close with the organizers as logan is, which clears him of any bias. he’ll write the column about why the whole thing started. you can get credit for graphics and layout. we’d only need a staffer to take photographs.”

poppy’s eyes dart to him. “you’d think she’d take an entire double-truck by students who aren’t staffers yet?”

dee shrugs, spreading his gloved hands. “the worst she can do is say no. plus—” he slides the paper back, and takes a photograph of it with his phone, tapping a few buttons. “there. now we’ve got proof we came up with it first, and you and i can pitch a fit if they take the idea without involving us.”

“not me?” logan says.

“obviously not,” dee says, “you’re the favorite, which means you’ll be editor-in-chief once you keep that up, and i can benefit from nepotism.”

“i won’t be—”

“okay,” dee says with an eye-roll, “and who else are you going to trust to be your managing editor, louise? please.”

logan hesitates, because, well, he has a point. dee is by far the most capable person in their grade, aside from logan, of course. louise would be best qualified for entertainment editor, or perhaps photo, and then he shakes himself before he starts mentally assigning every proficient journalism student in their grade to editor positions.

“it wouldn’t be nepotism, you’d be qualified,” he says pointlessly.

dee tsks, patting logan’s hand. “of course not. mcmaster, buzz off for a moment, while i finish up this chat with logan, and then i’ll walk you to the journalism lab and help refine your pitch on the way, if you like.”

poppy’s eyes sharpen. “what, pitch it now?”

“no time like the present,” dee says. “and anyways, they’ll probably want a photographer there as we learn all the dances and curtsies this weekend, so—”

“right!” poppy says, “right. i’ll be right back” and she darts off, forgetting her folder, backpack, and lunch entirely.

logan watches her go, and says, resigned, “she really is going to be one of my editors, isn’t she.”

“editor in chief works closest with managing, copy, photo, and design, so she’ll practically be your right hand,” dee says gleefully.

“yours too, if you’re going to be my managing, so don’t look all smug because i will delegate if you make some kind of comment,” logan says, and dee grins at him—an actual, real grin, not a smirk or a smug little smile, a grin, like he’s happy.

and so of course logan has to ruin it by saying, “oh, i’ve been meaning to ask—would you like to come over and spend the night on Get Cultured day?”

the grin vanishes. dee actually looks somewhat alarmed. “what?”

“come over and spend the night,” logan repeats, trying his best to maintain a normal tone even though dee is looking at him as if he’s said come over and we’ll sacrifice you in an attempt to perfectly re-enact aztec ceremonies. “we could make sure everything’s done, then, and you could bring your dress so virgil could alter it and it could go home with in the morning, already done.”

he waits a beat, and when the alarmed look on dee’s face doesn’t abate, he adds, “it could be practice for a work night at the newspaper,” as if that is at all helpful.

“a sleepover?” dee says.

“well, yes,” logan says. 

dee continues to stare.

“you can just say no,” logan says, perhaps a bit snippy, because dee’s acting like logan’s invited him away to get murdered. he is trying to help.

“at your house?”

“yes, at my house,” logan says. 

poppy comes back; she’s managed to pull her hair back into a neat french braid that shows off the sharpness of her cheekbones, the intensity in her eyes. 

“all right, i’m ready for the pitch,” poppy says decisively. “i think we should open with pointing out how this feature wouldn’t exist without you two, but i’m the one who came up with the idea.”

dee ignores her. “are you sure?”

“yes.”

“just you and me,” dee checks, wary.

“well, and my dad, but that’s a given.”

dee absorbs this, still looking rather spooked, before he says decisively, “fine.”

“fine?” logan repeats, arching his eyebrows.

“i mean—yes,” dee says. “yes, i’ll come.”

“all right, then,” logan says. “we can text about details.”

dee clears his throat, and offers his arm for poppy, which she takes with a confused look on her face.

“poppy,” he says, as they’re exiting the cafeteria. “i don’t suppose you’ve been to any slumber parties lately, have you?”

“oh, my mom usually pays me to stay at parties until ten-thirty,” poppy says cheerfully. “she thinks socialization is important and i’m not enough of a people person, so she keeps sending me to parties, so she has to keep paying me, which means i can save up so i apply to the summer science program through mit this summer. mom wants me to stay and do some kind of internship at a beauty company, but how is that going to further my career in cancer research? once i get in she can’t just keep me from going, it’s mit.”

great. his first sleepover, ever, and his only options for in-person advice are the person who invited him to the sleepover and the girl who has her life planned out through her forties likely down to what she’ll eat for lunch every day.

“fantastic,” dee says through gritted teeth.

⁂

From: melissakramschissel@chilton.edu

To: logansanders@chilton.edu; dslange@chilton.edu; poppymcmaster@chilton.edu

CC: laurenpatrikis@chilton.edu

Subject: Debutante Spread

I’ll admit, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten quite so ambitious a pitch from three underclassmen, and never one spearheaded by a freshman. I absolutely love the idea, and if you stumble across a spare ticket for an adult to witness this socially conscious display, please feel free to let me know. I’ve CC’d Lauren Patrikis on this email—she’s a staffer on the Franklin who’s free on Saturday, and she’s very talented with a camera. Feel free to exchange numbers and text about other photography opportunities that you think would help benefit the spread.

Poppy: please put your infographics on a flash drive and drop it off in the lab so we have the highest resolution to upload. Thank you very much for coming up with this idea; I’m all the more excited to have you in class.

Dee: I think that about 1000 words should be the goal for the main piece, but we can discuss length when you come by. After school still works for you, correct?

Logan: Please confirm a time to come and see me so we can discuss the more specific story pitches for the two columns you’re doing.

I very much look forward to what you three get up to in your years in the Chilton journalism program. I have a feeling this is just the beginning of all the unique ideas you’ll have, and I eagerly await the opportunity to edit them.

Best,

Mel Kramschissel, PhD.

 From: logansanders@chilton.edu

To: laurenpatrikis@chilton.edu

CC: dslange@chilton.edu; poppymcmaster@chilton.edu

Subject: Directions for Lessons

Hello,

The directions to the dance studio we’re holding lessons in are attached. Please let me know if you have any further questions about navigating to Sideshire, or about the event in general. I can get you the phone numbers of the teachers, if you’d like them. Would you mind sending me your number, as well?

Regards,

Logan Sanders

 From: logansanders@chilton.edu

To: melissakramschissel@chilton.edu

Subject: Pitch meeting

Hello,

I’d be available during sophomore study hall, if that would work for you? If not, I can stop by after school with Dee.

Regards, 

Logan Sanders

 From: melissakramschissel@chilton.edu

To: logansanders@chilton.edu

Subject: Re: Pitch Meeting

Logan,

I’ve got a feeling that you’re the de facto leader of this little trio, even though the current spread is quite clearly Poppy’s brainchild, and I must say, this is very promising in regards to your future on the paper. I’m sure you’ll do exceptional work with this.

Sophomore study hall works great. You’ll be peeking in on the paper, but I have a feeling you won’t mind that at all. 

Best,

Mel Kramschissel, PhD.

(P.S.—Me pairing Lauren on this project is entirely out of selfish curiosity. Take from that what you will.)

⁂

patton is not sure if he has ever been more awkward eating a cherry danish in his whole life. he supposes that’s a pretty narrow gap to clear, but really, today has blown it out of the water.

most of the time whenever he’s around isadora, he feels like anything he does is dreadfully awkward, so it isn’t like this is news.

they’re together in isadora’s office, a small room just beside the studio; patton had offered to pick up supplies from remy’s café, so he’d brought her a tea and gotten a coffee for himself, and a little tray of assorted pastries. patton had grabbed the danish primarily because it was closest to him, and because isadora had already laid claim to a cruller that she’s been slowly picking at.

he winces a little as isadora takes a sip of her tea, pinky up, more preoccupied with the list in front of her. seriously. he went through years of etiquette training, he knows every fiddly little rule of silverware, he knows the various subconscious messages you can send while selecting a menu for the evening, and yet attempting to eat (or talk, or walk, or do most things) in the presence of isadora’s effortless, intimidating grace, it, well.

patton’s not the most refined person (anymore) but he knows he’s refined enough that he shouldn’t feel so buffoonish in isadora’s presence. he swallows his bite of danish, chasing it quickly with a sip of coffee.

“have you done the viennese waltz before?” he asks, just to break the silence.

“twice,” she says idly, turning the page. “well enough that i can remember the choreography and teach it to the children.”

“oh, good!” patton says. “good, good—um, not that you wouldn’t be able to pick it up really fast if you’d never done it before, since you’re obviously very good at dance being, um, being a dance teacher. and also a professional ballerina! even though i suppose ballerinas don’t really do waltzes, unless it’s, like, the waltz of the flowers or something, so i guess ballerinas do do waltzes! sometimes! what do i know, you know?” and immediately takes another sip of coffee because oh my god, patton, shut UP, he always gets like this whenever he and ms. prince have a one-on-one conversation, she’s so quiet and patton can’t help but word vomit because sometimes the silence gets agonizing.

isadora politely ignores him. patton takes another bite of his cherry danish and chews with fervor, because this way he won’t start blabbering about whatever comes to mind.

“all right,” isadora says at last, closing the handbook. “so, we’ll need to ensure that they know how to do the st. james bow, the viennese waltz, and the circle dance with the fans. that will all be my jurisdiction to lead, with you helping demonstrate, of course.”

“of course,” patton says, nodding like a bobblehead.

“—which means you shall take lead on the proper walk, proper dinner manners, and general courtesy, comportment, and etiquette.”

patton keeps nodding.

isadora takes another sip of tea and says, “so, we have approximately thirty-five kids coming, is that correct?”

“logan’s checking, but some of the chilton kids are being sent to other prep courses by their parents,” patton says, and frowns. “so—maybe a little less than that number, really. i can text him, if you want? i should text him—”

“that’s acceptable,” she says, waving him off. “he’ll be home from school soon enough, we can ask then.”

patton freezes, phone already in hand, before meekly puts it aside. 

“i think we should begin as one big group,” isadora says, “and demonstrate the bows and curtsies, then we can split off into groups to cover the fans and the walk…”

and so patton mostly just listens and takes notes—he does not want to forget any part of this process—on how isadora thinks the teaching should be done. honestly, it’s a miracle she agreed to do it when roman pitched it to her, because one, she’s a teacher and he has basically no experience in teaching teenagers other than his own very curious kid, two, the studio is basically the only space big enough to hold all of them at once, and three, isadora has come up with a way to do this in such an organized way that’s almost militaristic. he’s very grateful that she’s agreed to this, and he tells her so once she’s finished informing him of the general outline she’s come up with for Get Cultured Day.

she nods in acknowledgement and says, “well, roman’s quite excited about the whole ordeal.”

patton grins at her. “i heard about their date—sounds like his dress is a definite statement piece.”

isadora huffs softly, shaking her head; she hasn’t yet put her hair up in a severe bun for her afternoon lessons, like she almost always does, though she’s in a pair of stretchy leggings and a loose sweatshirt that tumbles down to her mid-thighs. her hair’s in a ponytail, with a few black strands framing her face. it’s one of the only times that patton’s seen her hair out of a bun, though he’s never seen it down. he’d had no idea that her hair was so long—he guesses that it might come down to her ribs, maybe even her waist.

“roman wants everything to be a statement,” she says. “he got his dramatics from his father.”

“ah, but he makes it work, doesn’t he?” patton says. “both did, from what i hear, if a bit differently.”

“more than a bit,” isadora says. 

“he wouldn’t be our roman without it, though, would he?” patton points out.

isadora’s lips twitch with what might be a smile.

“no,” isadora says. “no, he certainly wouldn’t.”

“wouldn’t have him any other way,” patton says. “love that kid, i’m thrilled to see what he’s gonna do—not just with the debutante ball, either.”

she’s certainly smiling now. “that’s the wonderful thing about children, isn’t it? watching them grow. like you’ve done with my boy, and i with yours.”

patton smiles, too, a little bittersweet. “gosh. we’re presenting them as adults to society. seems like yesterday roman was putting logan in a dress for a fashion show for the pair of us.”

“oh, yes,” she says, “and roman nearly dropped logan because he wanted to have a grand finale stunt he’d seen the older dancers do, i remember it well.”

patton snorts a little; after the initial rush of paternal panic when logan had clung to roman’s neck and it looked like they were both going down, it had been kind of funny to see logan, eyeshadow smeared over his eyes and lipstick messy on his mouth squawking in protest at roman even as roman had attempted to do the stunt again, even as isadora was telling him all about the importance of recovering from mistakes smoothly on stage. 

“they’ve come a long way from a fashion show for the pair of us.”

“that they have,” isadora agrees, and offers an expression to patton that is the softest he’s ever seen from her. “i’m very fond of your boy, as well.”

patton can’t help but smile—he always smiles when he hears about people loving logan, because it’s logan, his son, of course he’s happy about logan being well-loved.

“we did a good job with them,” patton says musingly. “the weird parenting pool we’ve made—you, me, virgil. we turned out two amazing boys.”

“that we did,” she agrees. “and it looks like they’ll stick with each other. it’s rare for a young love to last so long, i know, but—”

“but they’ve been stuck on each other since they were five,” patton says, with a nod of agreement, and holds his breath as he reaches over to gently squeeze isadora’s hand, moving slowly enough that she could move away if she wanted to. she does not swat him away, so, success! “should we do the stereotypical thing now and start planning their wedding? i think logan and roman would be lovely spring grooms, personally, but i’m not totally set on season yet.”

isadora’s letting out that soft huff once again when the studio door opens, and patton turns to see who it is.

roman, his red backpack slung over one shoulder, him bracing the strap with one hand to unceremoniously dump it on the nearest bench, and scrolling through his phone with the other.

“¡mamá!” he calls.“¿qué peluca crees que se vería—?”

he pauses in his tracks, blinking, before he grins sheepishly at patton.

“hi, pa—mr. sanders,” he corrects. patton can feel the force of the arched eyebrow that ms. prince was giving him to make him correct himself.

“hi, roman,” patton says; he doesn’t know much spanish, so he isn’t really sure what roman’s asking. “how was school?”

“oh! good, good,” roman says. “the cheer squad finally figured out what uniform we’re gonna wear at the next game, and also they finally decided who’s officially escorting who—sasha’s mine, i’ve got a list i was gonna send to logan—”

“do i know sasha?” isadora asks.

“nah, i don’t think she ever took classes here,” roman says. “she’s one of the kids who comes in from the farm towns nearby, y’know?”

isadora nods, noting this, and roman hesitates, looking between patton and isadora, before—

“do you think you can keep a surprise a secret?” roman asks patton.

patton considers this. “well, i can definitely try my best!”

“oh, good, i want opinions,” roman bursts out and rushes over, showing off two pictures on his phone.

patton blinks at them; they look like two people, from what he can tell, with big hair and a lot of makeup, maybe a bit familiar, and if he could get a closer look ohhhh he knows where he recognizes them now.

“so, looking at wig alone, which one?” roman asks, and patton glances at roman, before he looks back at the pictures, and back at roman.

“you’re doing drag?”

“uh-huh,” roman says brightly. “as soon as i got my dress, i realized, like, i have to go full camp with it, you know? it’s this massive eighties monstrosity, i adore it. it’s definitely something a drag queen would wear, and i’ve been looking at makeup tutorials, and—”

“—and i was a private instructor for a few queens back in the day, so i know enough of the process to help,” isadora says, as if this is an utterly casual thing to say and not the most wild job he could imagine for her.

“you did?!”

“mm,” isadora says, sparing him a slightly bemused look, as if his surprise is completely unnecessary.

“i know, i had the same reaction,” roman says to patton. “my mom, isa-diva prince! anyways. from someone who’s seen a lot of drag queens, and someone who has been to a debutante ball—?”

“oh, yeah, i’ve attended one,” patton says, “i just never actually, y’know, debuted. but, um, lemme see the options again—?”

patton, as one might guess, does not know anything about wigs. he doesn’t have to, either, because isadora tuts at roman for one of his options, which is apparently subpar, and her son is going to make his drag debut fabulous—

roman, grinning, sends the link to isadora so that she can order the wig for him, drops a kiss on her cheek then patton’s, and calls, “i’m gonna go change and warm up to get ready for the baby’s class soon! you gotta remember to put in calls to get me an actual fairy drag mother!” and darts up the stairs, the door closing behind him.

patton turns to her, smiling. “drag?”

“drag,” isadora agrees. “he’s been watching some shows for long enough, i’ve been expecting him to at least express a little interest in attempting it for himself. and now he is absolutely exhilarated by the concept of wearing drag to an event that is so traditionally heteronormative and surprising everyone. well, except for you, now, i suppose.”

“everyone?”

“everyone,” isadora confirms. “he hasn’t told logan, or virgil. he wants to see their reactions.”

patton laughs, a little bit. “that seems… very roman.”

isadora huffs softly and agrees, “remember what we said about dramatics?”

⁂

New Groupchat

Logan Sanders, Dee Slange, Poppy McMaster, 1 Unknown Number

Logan Sanders: I’ve taken the liberty of putting everyone involved in the debutante spread for the newspaper into one group text. This is Logan Sanders.

Unknown Number: Hi, Logan, I’m Lauren! We’ve got a friend in common, you’re in the GSA with my boyfriend Kai. 

Dee Slange: dee slange here

Poppy McMaster: I’m Poppy McMaster. 

Logan Sanders: I was wondering where I’d heard your name before. Yes, Kai’s talked about you.

Groupchat has been titled: Franklin Debutante Spread Team

Lauren Patrikis: Okay, so, I think I should get to the debutante lessons about fifteen or so minutes early, just to get my camera set up with the lighting and to get a general idea of the space. Do either of you have ideas on who you want to focus on in your pieces, so I have an idea of who to photograph?

Dee Slange: i’m going to interview ana and janey definitely, plus logan’s dad and the ballet teacher, but other than that, I haven’t settled on who I’m getting quotes from

Lauren Patrikis: Ana and Janey, got it. Logan?

Logan Sanders: One of my pieces is a column from me to explain where the idea came from, and the other one will be focused on dress shopping, but Kram said she got photos for that already.

Lauren Patrikis: Oh yeah lol I went with a few of the other Clairs to get their dresses, so I got that taken care of. Good thing they wanted me there for Instagram otherwise we’d be depending on student-submitted cellphone shots Lauren Patrikis: Not that those aren’t nice, but. You know. Gives off a certain vibe.

Dee Slange: yeah, really convenient for us that you’ve withdrawn your participation into the ball and turned it into something for our direct gain

Logan Sanders: You’re a Clair?

Dee Slange: don’t be obvious logan Dee Slange: ofc she’s a clair

Lauren Patrikis: Haha yeah I’m a Clair

Poppy McMaster: Really??? Poppy McMaster: Can I text you with a few questions about that Poppy McMaster: And about your plans on going into journalism after high school

Lauren Patrikis: Ofc! Love to help a fellow journalism gal, and that you’re an aspiring Clair makes it all the better, girls gotta stick together, right? Lauren Patrikis: no offense boys

Logan Sanders: None taken. We’re all feminists here.

Lauren Patrikis: Now, with all the planning out of the way, can I ask your guys’ specific interests when it comes to the paper? Lauren Patrikis: I’m planning on applying for an editor position next fall, and fingers crossed I get EIC, but I’d be happy with managing or copy, really, and it’d be cool to get an idea of some of the juniors I’d (hopefully!) be working with

Dee Slange is typing…

Logan Sanders is typing...

⁂

“logan?”

logan glances up from his plate, where he’s been spearing scalloped potatoes without really lifting them to his mouth. virgil and patton are giving him twin looks of what might be parental concern, and logan grimaces without really intending to.

they’re having dinner, all three of them, which logan has been carefully edging around calling family dinner in his head, because if he says it aloud, he’s pretty sure it’ll spook virgil or patton. it’s a good dinner, too; the butcher was having a sale, so virgil got three good cuts of steak and made scalloped potatoes and asparagus and herbed butter, with something brought under a round tin that is now in the fridge. patton’s eyes have been darting to it, then back to virgil, trying to evaluate what dessert fulfills virgil’s stringent ideals for nutrition. 

“sorry,” logan says, and eats the scalloped potato that he’s been butchering.

he is also slightly certain that this is their way of having a date night without leaving logan home alone on a week night. he is also edging carefully around that in his mind. he is very happy that they’re dating. it’s just that if he gives any thought to the implications for what they might do after their date it would be, as he would have declared ten years ago, icky. 

the trouble is, logan reflects, is that it’s much more nerve-wracking to come out on another person’s behalf than his own coming out process was. 

as he’s chewing, he reflects; it’s not like virgil is going to have a negative reaction, given that his boyfriend has been openly trans for sixteen years, and in regards to the dress tailoring, the worst virgil can do is say no.

“no need to be sorry, kiddo,” patton says. “busy thinking about that awesome double-pager—”

“—double truck,” logan corrects—

“—which, again, we're so thrilled for you, or is something on your mind?”

logan sighs to himself. there’s an opening if he’s ever heard one.

“dee still needs a tailor for his dress,” he says, and then he turns his attention to virgil. “i am wondering if you would be willing to offer your services.”

virgil’s face twists up.

“look,” virgil says, sets down his fork, and sighs. “i’m glad that you’ve got—i dunno, an understanding or whatever with this guy. you’ve got two more years at that school and i’m glad you’ve settled into things there. but—”

“but,” logan repeats quietly.

“—but,” virgil agrees, looks at patton, who has a polite listening expression on his face, and then virgil looks back at logan again, “look. you might have heard some things about my teenage days around town, and you’re almost an adult, so i don’t really hold any compunctions with telling you i was an asshole. a lot of teenagers are assholes, and some of them even manage to grow out of it. as a former teenager who was also an asshole, i can tell you that i got into some scrapes here and there. now, did i punch a few people on my own? ‘course i did. i was an asshole, i got into fights. but i can tell you that even in the depths of my stupid teenage actions, i never manipulated someone into punching someone else for me.”

logan absorbs this with a slight dip of his chin, a silent go on.

“these are just my two cents,” virgil adds, firmly, “you can do whatever you want, it’s your life, and you’re the one who’s at that school for hours and hours a day, you have a better idea of how to navigate things there than me. but. to add in my two cents, i don’t think the kind of guy who manipulates someone into doing physical harm on his behalf and has been openly very competitive with you to the point of doing something like that is a—a good buddy to hang around.”

he spreads his hands. “i could definitely be wrong. but—”

“but those are your two cents,” logan murmurs. “right.”

patton’s chewing at the inside of his cheek, now. “well,” patton offers timidly, and then snaps his mouth closed, clearly not wanting to spill the secret.

“i know you believe the best in people, patton, and that’s great,” virgil says, reaching over to squeeze patton’s hand. “i’m the jerk in this relationship, i’m aware of that, i can be an overprotective asshole, so i couldn’t sit by and just not say anything. you have the main call, obviously, logan’s your kid and this is your house.”

logan sighs a little, meeting patton’s eyes.

“he said i could tell him,” logan says, nodding his head in virgil’s direction. “he needs the tailor to be able to alter the dress without his parents’ interference. or so i gathered.”

patton sighs, too, except it’s more in relief, and he reaches over his other hand, to clasp virgil’s hand between both of his.

“dee’s…” patton says quietly, and then he straightens up a little. “he’s like me, honey.”

virgil’s brow furrows, ever so slightly. patton tilts his head. they’re looking each other in the eyes, a silent conversation, and patton arches his eyebrows at virgil, as if to punctuate whatever thought they’re nonverbally passing between them.

and then—

“oh,” virgil says blankly, and then he looks to logan. “he’s trans.”

it’s not a question, but logan nods anyways.

“he kind of accidentally mentioned it when he was over for the gsa posters, a month or so ago,” patton says, still quiet. “we promised we wouldn’t tell.”

“‘course not,” virgil says, still with that blank tone, reaching over to pat his hand. “you wouldn’t out someone, i wouldn’t want you to, not without their consent, but why—?”

“the dress,” logan says. “he needs someone to alter the dress to hide his binder. i don’t think he can go to any tailor his parents would bring up, they wouldn’t want him to wear one.”

virgil’s brow furrows. “why not?”

“his father never quite managed to grow out of it,” patton says primly, avoiding the swear. “apparently he found a wife who didn’t, either.”

and so the whole story behind why they’re really doing the debutante ball comes out slowly, as they’re finishing up their meal. virgil sits and listens, brow still furrowed, as logan explains how he’d come up with the idea, and patton provides a little further insight into dee’s background, and logan tells him as much as he can about dee’s house, without disclosing his grandmother’s illness, and by the time they both finish, a deep line’s marring virgil’s usually smooth, pale forehead.

“so,” virgil says slowly. “let me get this gay. you—” he points to logan, “came up with this whole idea to hide dee’s status, and you hid that behind the idea of doing this for feminism.”

“well, two things can be true,” logan points out, very reasonably, he thinks. “it started as just dee, sure, but i still despise the tradition of it and the sexist absurdity of it all should be pointed out.”

“and you,” he says, lightly bumping patton with his shoulder, “are hosting the Get Cultured day, plus a sleepover with the pair of them?”

“there’s—more,” logan says haltingly. “in dee’s life. i think dad could be a help with. i’m not at liberty to say.”

“christ, of course there is,” virgil mutters, rubbing at his forehead, as if he’s developing a headache. “right. i’m getting the chocolate-dipped strawberries—” patton brightens—“and the prosecco.”

“ooh, prosecco,” patton says. “fancy.”

“can i try?” logan asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.

virgil pops the cork, and then turns his eyes to patton, attentively waiting for an answer. patton considers this.

“pour him a little one,” patton says to virgil, who nods, and then proceeds to pour logan the tiniest flute of prosecco he can, before pouring more substantial servings for himself and patton. 

“this has fruity flavors of green apple, juicy peach and ripe lemon, framed by hints of minerality,” virgil reads aloud, before he sets down the bottle, passes over the glasses, and then fetches the tin.

logan takes a cautious sip. patton is watching him do so closely, his hands under his chin, pinning logan with a curious look.

“this tastes like none of those things,” logan informs him. it mostly tastes like fizz, and, if he holds it in his mouth long enough, eventually just bitter grape juice.

“yeah, the whole flavor profile things tend to be bullshit,” virgil says, setting the tin at the center of the table and uncovering it to show off a collection of chocolate-dipped strawberries, drizzled over with dark or white chocolate, sitting in cupcake wrappers, and patton oohs and aahs. 

“don’t say that around my family, or else you’ll be treated of stories of about thirty different wineries,” patton says dryly. “mom thinks she could have been a sommelier in another life.”

“don’t tell me you did the grape-crushing thing with your feet,” virgil says to patton, amused.

“i can neither confirm or deny,” patton says, taking his own sip of prosecco. “ooh, this is good!”

“thanks,” virgil says, then, to logan, “just as a pro-tip for when you’re twenty-one, go for the highest rated wine you can find at the lowest price.”

“highest rated, lowest price, understood,” logan says, and claims three strawberries for himself before his dad can take all the ones with white chocolate.

“and,” virgil adds, “if you find yourself around pretentious people—god knows you will, with your grandparents—just swirl it and sniff it and say oh, the bouquet is lovely, is this oak? or whatever.”

“oh, i can teach you the pretentious way you’re meant to drink wine!” patton says brightly, and so virgil and logan are treated to an informal lesson of how to best hold wine glasses (at the stem, so your fingers don’t transfer heat to the wine, which seems logical) and to swirl them (“you’re supposed to do this with wider glasses and wines that aren’t bubbly mostly, but it helps oxygenate the wine so you can smell it better,” patton says wisely) and how to aerate it while you’re drinking (“you’re kidding,” logan says, but obligingly attempts to suck in air and not dribble prosecco from his mouth simultaneously) and the three of them try their very best to drink their wine in as ostentatious a fashion as possible.

once logan’s had his fill of strawberries, and finished his tiny helping of prosecco, he helps wash the dishes and graciously bows out of the kitchen as subtly as he can. virgil and patton pour themselves thirds, kissing as they clink glasses when they think logan’s out of sight.

logan thinks he’s managed to be a fairly good third wheel to this date.

⁂

“well, i’ve got mine hanging in the closet,” patton says. “have you gotten yours yet?”

virgil groans; he’s feeling much too pleasant to think about such things. 

patton’s sitting almost in his lap; his thighs are slung over virgil’s, at any rate, and virgil’s got his free hand resting on patton’s thigh, absently kneading at the muscle, savoring the warmth and weight of him. patton’s got his free hand playing with virgil’s hair; they’re both finishing off the last of the prosecco and talking about the debutante ball.

virgil knocks the last of his back, and sets the flute aside.

“i’ll get mine while you and the kids are off for Get Cultured day,” virgil grumbles. “a tux. ugh. no one more than the people who’re absolutely necessary will see me in that.”

patton smiles at him, fondness making his eyes go softer and sweeter than usual; his cheeks are pink, probably from the prosecco. 

“you’re forgetting that we’re all gonna see you wear it at the ball,” patton points out, voice sugary, and virgil groans, tilting his head back, and therefore into patton’s hand; patton bears the weight of it gently, his hand bracing his skull, giggling even as he does.

“and don’t forget your white gloves,” patton points out, and virgil groans louder.

“oh, stop,” patton says, but any scolding attempt is ruined by how tender he sounds, the way he carefully tilts virgil’s head so he’s looking at him; virgil’s eyes trace along his cupid’s bow lips, lush and wet from the prosecco, the curve of his jaw, his eyes, a loving expression in them that makes virgil’s chest ache with devotion, his cheeks, going pinker the longer virgil looks. his eyelashes brush against his cheeks when he looks down for a moment, unable to hold eye contact.

patton seems to rally, shaking himself a little, before he says with great dignity, “you know looking at me like that makes me go to bits.”

virgil tries for a smirk, but it probably comes out soppy and moonstruck. “do i?”

“you know very well,” patton huffs, before he sits up a little and says, “and. you’re all deeply touched that roman asked you, i know you are.”

virgil’s the one to break eye contact, now, looking down at patton’s legs in his lap and mumbling excuses that sound weak even to himself. honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle he manages to get it out around the lump in his throat.

“i was talking to isadora, about our weird little circle of parenting,” patton continues, his tone victorious. “you, me, her. the boys. our boys.”

virgil squeezes patton’s thigh again, just listening.

“logan and roman are credits to you,” patton says. “not just us.”

virgil squirms a little. sentimentality is still not his strong suit. “you—and ms. prince—are the ones who raised them, took care of them day and night. i helped out where i could. and,” he kisses patton’s cheek, “you’re the ones who let me into your lives, so. they’re still majorly credits to you.”

“mm,” patton says, and looks at him with half-lidded, slightly mischievous eyes. “we’ll call it even, how about that?”

virgil snorts again and says, “if you think i’m about to claim credit for an isadora prince production, i hope you’ll plan out my funeral.”

patton swats his shoulder, but conversation veers away from virgil’s role in the kids’ lives.

good. if they go too much into parental feelings after virgil’s had three glasses of prosecco, he’s pretty sure he’ll get all annoyingly teary, and he’s pretty sure patton would think it cute and sweet, but he doesn’t exactly plan on getting all annoyingly teary to conclude this date.

⁂

the excuse that he’s told logan is that dee is coming early to survey the studio and help set things up.

the fact of it all is that he could probably drive his range rover in fifty laps around this town and he could probably still find something new to surprise him, like some kind of small-town culture shock.

for example—his range rover sticks out like a sore thumb. he has already spotted five people gawking at it as he drives around. two people even elbowed their walking companion and pointed. 

they’re in for an influx of bmws and mercedes’ bought with daddy’s money—dee supposes it must be a car enthusiast’s idea of christmas to be able to see all the chilton students’ cars unexpectedly flood this tiny town, whose ideas of automobile finery are probably topping out at a prius.

he spies the punnily-named cat-themed store that he’d been so boggled by the last time he was here, and the community garden, and the town is just as kitschy as it was at night, except now he can see better in the light of day, instead of the light of fairy lights and wrought-iron street lamps. 

now, he can see a local newsstand. he didn’t even know those still existed. on the same level of outdated absurdity, there is something called a mailboxes etc., which he can only hope is this town’s excuse for a post office. there is also a shoe repair store, because apparently these people are right out of the victorian era and have employed cobblers in this town.

there is a store called harry’s house of twinkle lights, which only sells twinkle lights, how on earth is that a sustainable business model? 

incongruously, there is a tattoo shop right beside the famed virgil’s diner he’s heard logan talk about so much. he spends a lot of time parked in the street, staring at that. a tattoo parlor. well, at least something in this town has evolved past the ideals of a fifties housewife.

(there is a black lives matter sign in a place of pride in the window, along with a rainbow flag. there are a lot of pride flags waving brightly in the bleak wind, of all stripes and colors. there are black lives matter signs staked in a lot of front yards, actually.)

(in his neighborhood, there are no black lives matter signs staked on the professionally manicured lawns. he isn’t even allowed to have one in his room. he’s tried. his parents threw it out.)

dee checks the time, clears his throat forcefully, and moves to park as close to the dance studio as he can.

he’d seen it before; he’d watched as logan got all moony-eyed and reverent at his boyfriend dancing in the window, without the boyfriend’s awareness. it isn’t particularly difficult to find—it’s in what passes as the town square, which he supposes makes it as a technicality of being the shape of a square.

it’s also easy to spot because logan is out front, along with another boy their age; he recognizes him from logan’s birthday party last fall.

he hops out of the car, locking it as he does so (the town may look like it’s a fifties housewife’s dream, but he doesn’t know the crime rates of this town off the top of his head, and his sleepover bag is right in the back, looking prime for someone to steal, but the most they’d get is a decent bag, some clothes and toiletries, and his phone charger, so there.) logan glances at him, holding up one half of the sign; the boy (roman, dee remembers) glowers at him behind logan’s back, and dee tries his very hardest not to grin. thank goodness, something fun today.

“i didn’t know you had your license,” logan comments. he’s in jeans, but otherwise he still looks like an accountant (an actual accountant, not the wink-wink nudge-nudge joking kind that’s been popularized over that one song that says the accountant is a cover for really being a sex worker)—he’s wearing a collared shirt and tie, and a jacket on top of that.

“turned sixteen in february,” dee says.

“well,” logan says. “happy belated birthday, i suppose. roman, would you pass me the tape—?”

even dee has to admit roman is very well-dressed. he is wearing a black overcoat that is so nice that dee would not be embarrassed to wear it over a collared shirt, a red-and-black plaid sweater, and a pair of black, pleated, high-waisted pants and a pair of black booties. it’s like he’s stepped off someone’s painstakingly curated ✨ winter fashion ✨ pinterest board.

roman, however, is still glowering at dee even as he ensures his half of the sign will hold and passes logan the tape.

dee tucks his hands into his pockets. the wind is sweeping in their direction, which means his cape is flowing dramatically in the wind. it’s like he choreographed it. he hopes he looks like a norse god sweeping down to enact destruction.

“roman prince, i remember,” dee says smoothly. “we had a conversation at logan’s birthday party. nice to see you again.”

roman’s scowl deepens. “i can’t say that’s mutual, villain,” he declares, and takes a moment to ensure logan’s got a grasp on the sign (he does, he’s taping the last corner to the window) sweeps dramatically off into the studio with his nose in the air. dee can’t help but laugh.

logan simply looks chagrined.

“villain,” dee repeats, delighted. 

logan rolls his eyes at dee and says, “my dad is just about the only one who’s forgiven the louise incident from you, so. be cautious.”

“when you say the only one,” dee begins.

“virgil and roman are the primary grudge-holders in the family,” logan says absently, too busy smearing a hand over the corner to ensure it’ll stick to the window to catch dee blinking at him, caught off-guard—family?—before logan continues, “and i suppose ms. prince, but ms. prince terrifies most she interacts with anyways, so the fact that she’ll hold a grudge should be indecipherable to those who are not practiced in conversing with her.”

“terrifying?” he asks.

logan looks away from the window at last, the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. if dee didn’t know any better, he’d think that logan was being mischievous.

“oh, yes,” he says. “i’m uncertain if you’ll fear her or love her. perhaps both in equal measure.”

forget the tattoo parlor, this ms. prince woman is by far the most fascinating thing about this stupidly charming town.

dee looks at the sign. DEBUTANTE BALL TRAINING HERE, in logan’s neat hand, and then underneath it in a scrawling, well-practiced calligrapher’s cursive, GET CULTURED DAY! and a variety of other doodles around it. there are sparkles. he briefly entertains the mental image that logan is actually a sparkle enthusiast behind closed doors, but also, dee has seen his boyfriend, so. he’s got a feeling on who insists on sparkles in that relationship.

“well,” dee says, and nods to the door. “shall we?”

logan opens the door as an answer.

dee steps through, pausing just for a moment to sweep his eyes over the dance studio.

there are what look like old church pews in the hall, which leads back to what looks like a small room and a set of stairs; it is, he knows just by looking, renovated from an old building in town—a barn, maybe, or an old house, but one can hardly tell once they’re inside it.

he steps into the actual studio. the studio itself has two walls lined with mirrors, one with the windows facing out into the street, and a few windows facing out into the hallway. there are three round tables shoved to one half of the room; patton sanders, in one of his sweaters (a muted shade of plum, today) and jeans; a short, brown-skinned woman with her black hair swept back into an impressively tight bun.

they both glance over at the sound of someone entering; patton brightens, the woman frowns.

“dee!” patton says. “happy you made it, kiddo, c’mon in!”

the woman must be ms. prince.

ah. roman prince. this is roman’s mother.

“this is isadora prince, but she’s ms. prince to you,” patton prattles on cheerfully, seemingly ignoring the fact that the woman is sizing him up—predator knows predator, dee supposes, so he does not feel any compunctions about doing the same. 

“she’ll be teaching all the dance stuff, the movement things,” patton says, “and i’ve got how to behave yourselves in a fancy-schmancy setting like this. plus, like, the proper walk. now, it’s been a few years since i’ve taken lessons, so i might be a bit rusty, but—”

dee stops paying attention, then, too busy tilting his head ever so slightly to survey ms. prince. she looks almost clinically disinterested, except for a unyielding, rigid look in her eyes that simply gives away impressions of stubbornness, but nothing of observational value. dee could have guessed she’s stubborn, she’s a single mother, as far as he knows, and a ballet teacher. aspects of both of those things require a certain amount of tenacity.

the closest thing dee can amount her expression to is a no-nonsense substitute teacher waiting for class to calm down, with the eerie sense of preternatural calm that the entire class will be in trouble far beyond their wildest dreams. 

it absolutely does nothing to him. he does not react at all. if, perhaps, there is a chill sent down his spine, it is obviously because the heating system in here is inadequate and the old, shoddy architecture is clearly allowing a draft.

“...think it should be okay!” patton finishes, smiling still, completely unaware of what has come to pass. “‘course, i haven’t been around teenagers in a while that aren’t you, logan, and roman, but i manage the part-timer kids at the inn okay, so fingers crossed it’s the same for the chilton kids.”

ms. prince looks away from him. he does not feel anything that could possibly be likened to someone removing the last piece of rubble that was pinning someone down, and at last they could scramble away.

“you shall manage just fine,” isadora says. it sounds less like a comforting statement and more like the prediction of a military officer before a battle.

patton nods, seemingly bolstered by this. dee does not even try to imagine what would have happened if he wasn’t.

“can we practice?” roman says, doing his very best to pretend that dee isn’t there; dee rolls his eyes, even as patton exclaims “‘course we can!” and logan leans in to murmur, “roman usually assists his mother with dance classes, he’ll do the same for the dances we’ll need to learn.”

isadora moves to turn on music, and patton and roman turn to face each other. patton smiles at him encouragingly, and, as if unable to help it, roman smiles back as the music comes in, with an old-timey blare of horns.

“may i have this dance?” patton offers gallantly.

roman tee-hees and takes on a nasally tone reminiscent of most rich brats as portrayed on television, “i dunno, do you have a trust fund?” before he turns and declares, in a passable teacher’s tone, “always make sure, ladies, we’re mocking the original purpose of the ball! gold-dig away!”

it makes patton laugh and logan smile, but roman takes patton’s hand without waiting for his answer. 

patton promptly assumes form—dee isn’t sure why he’s surprised it’s picture-perfect, but he is anyways—and roman does too, their hands clasped together, roman’s opposite hand on patton’s arm and patton’s hand resting on roman’s shoulder blade. 

patton counts aloud as they sweep across the room, “one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three,” for his own benefit or for roman’s, he isn’t sure. 

if not for that, if not for the surroundings of this dance studio, if not for their relatively casual state of dress, if not for the frank sinatra in the background, dee could easily believe that they were leading the opening dance of the actual debutante ball. 

if roman were in his debutante gown, if patton were in his tuxedo, if the studio surrounding them was replaced by a beautiful, marble ballroom, then they would have been the jealousies of everyone at the ball.

roman, dee observes, is good. patton dances with the practiced air of someone who learned how to do this years ago, and roman’s ability to keep pace is so well-matched that dee passively wonders if they make a habit of dancing together; if perhaps they share a common hobby of attending sock-hops.

he recalls the dance-a-thon poster he’d seen while he was in town. he really cannot discount this theory.

“dee?”

dee looks away from the pair of them twirling around the room, roman’s coat flaring with them the way his skirt eventually will.

logan gestures to the table, and holds up a handful each of forks and knives. “would you help me with these?”

you expect me to do what, he nearly says, before he recalls his excuse to get here early was to help set up, and so he heads over to the table, logan handing him the forks and knives, dee setting the table as if for a proper three-course dinner. 

he watches patton laugh as he dips roman, roman laughing too, their faces lighting up with it; he glances over out of the corner of his eyes, and he sees logan’s eyes gone soft, the way that dee has only ever seen him do once, that night of the poster-making when he had watched roman without being aware. he’s stopped unfolding the cloth napkins to stare at roman, that look on his face, the corners of his mouth lifted up; he has the fond expression of someone wed to their husband for fifteen years, watching them do the thing they love, not watching boyfriend of less than three months. 

huh. logan sanders is a sap. he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it.

he mentally analyzes his memories of seeing logan and roman together; at the chilton dance, logan watching him through the window, and now. all three times, logan had looked at roman like he'd hung the moon and stars.

it bears further observation, for certain.

dee clears his throat loudly, just for the pleasure of seeing logan jump, come back into himself, and hastily resume placing napkins.

dee smirks to himself as he straightens the dessert spoon.

all right. that is also his major motivation to continue the observation—the fun of watching logan get flustered. 

⁂

so maybe patton hasn’t thought about the way that a lot of teenagers are until virgil brought it up over dinner, but honestly, patton doesn’t think it’s his fault he overlooked that.

his track record with teenagers isn’t exactly a stellar one: when he was one, he was something of a wild child, and the other teenagers only ever really liked him at parties, and their opinion declined even more once he came out, and then that opinion crashed straight through rock bottom to start digging for the center of the earth when he got pregnant. 

then he dropped out of school, and moved here, and he didn’t really have much interaction with other teenagers in sideshire, except for the occasional part-timer at the inn, who mostly treated him cordially, if a bit awkwardly. 

then he kept working with those teenage part-timers, who were technically coworkers, and most of them carried that same generally friendly attitude throughout the years; then his boys turned thirteen, but he’d been so used to the pair of them, the only turmoil they’d had to deal with were occasional emotional outbursts and boy drama. 

and now, well. dee, too, he supposes. he isn’t sure how much dee qualifies as a typical teenager, though, what with him dressing like a victorian gentleman on an off day and his apparent secret that logan’s hinted at but not said.

and now an incoming horde of chilton students. the last generation of chilton students he’d dealt with while he was at chilton, and he’s pretty sure those opinions are still slow-cooking in the lava in the core of the earth. he isn’t sure how a new generation of chilton students is going to be. for one, they’re chilton students. for another, they’re teenagers. 

so patton is maybe a little nervous about today!

the boys are milling about the room, checking on everything. roman seems to have settled on the strategy of ignoring dee, which seems to suit dee just fine, even amuse him, a little bit. logan goes back and forth between helping the pair of them—dee with the tables, roman with nametags—and isadora is scrolling through her phone, checking to make sure she has waltz-appropriate music queued up, and patton…

well. patton is nervously pacing around the room, trying to see if he can poke in somewhere in help, but apparently they’ve all got it covered, so. patton’s job is apparently pacing.

unsurprisingly, the sideshire kids filter in first; brick comes bearing what they say is a gift from virgil, handing patton a tray full of heat-preserving cups for the four of them, and patton eagerly removes the top to sniff it only to pout that it’s decaf before he passes out the other three drinks to isadora, roman, and logan.

“hi,” brick says to dee.

“hello,” dee says warily, hovering near the corner of the room.

“wicked cool cape,” brick says. “you’ve got the phantom of the opera thing going on, then?”

dee lifts his eyebrows, looks as if he is about to do something that will be great fun, and says in a tone that is mildly threatening, “was that a joke about my vitiligo?”

“okay!” patton breaks in, as brick starts to look like they’re about to fall all over themselves in apology, “brick, kiddo, this is dee, he goes to logan’s school. how about you go on over with roman and get your nametag, huh?”

brick scampers off with a squeaky “sorry!” and patton turns to dee.

“be nice,” he says, in the same tone he’d use when logan was in kindergarten and demanding to know how on earth the other kids were unaware of what he’d thought to be universal common knowledge, like the heat death of the universe. 

“it’s too easy,” dee complains, gesturing to his face. 

“be,” patton repeats pointedly, “polite. i know that wasn’t the best thing for them to say, it was not a very good comparison, but they were talking about your clothes, not your face.”

with a facial expression much the same as six-year-old logan grumbling about how it isn’t his fault the universe might one day reach thermodynamic equilibrium, dee sighs before he goes over to pick up a nametag off the table.

“don’t worry, brick,” roman says, giving dee a dirty look, “that villain is vile to everyone he meets. it’s such a disaster that’s probably where he got his name. dee-saster.”

patton looks between them. brick, looking very much like they would like to duck out of this conversation now please; roman, victorious in his nicknamery even though patton can admit quietly to himself that it’s not exactly roman’s best work; and dee, who looks entirely unaffected. 

and then he smiles. a placid, calm smile. he looks rather mild-mannered, actually. the room is quiet.

“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid,” dee returns, and roman looks terribly offended, his hand flying to his chest.

“exCUSE you,” roman says very loudly, “i am very happily and VERY CONTENTEDLY in LOVE with the HANDSOME man whose face you chose to MAR through—through your machiavellian manipulations and jealousy of logan’s many talents like you’re the stepmother in snow white! how dare you! i—ew!” he says, sounding like that one character in the canadian sitcom he’s trying to make logan watch. he’s clearly about to continue, but patton takes that as his cue to cut in.

“boys,” patton says loudly. he waits for them both to be quiet before he continues.

“be polite,” he repeats sternly, putting his hands on his hips. “be nice. we are here today to learn about absurd, sexist traditions that we all plan on going in and upheaving, and any good heist team needs to get along! am i clear?”

roman sighs but grumbles out an affirmative; dee rolls his eyes but does the same.

“good,” patton says, and points. “dee, please go help logan. roman—stay here.”

the boys, at last, split up.

“sorry,” brick repeats to dee.

dee shrugs. “i’ve heard it before.”

“still,” brick says, “i’m really sorry. patton’s right. that was a bad comparison to make, i should’ve said mr. darcy or something,” and then brick proceeds to stand as close to isadora’s general vicinity as they dare, as if her mere presence will protect them from any other catastrophes.

it probably will, honestly.

any awkwardness in the air doesn’t linger very long, though, because some other sideshire kids come in; elliott, for one, so they can go stand with brick, along with a few members of the cheerleading squad, which means that roman is distracted. there’s a girl with a camera he doesn’t recognize, but patton’s guessing she’s probably with the franklin, because she splits straight off to talk to logan and dee, stopping briefly to introduce herself to him and isadora, before she takes up residency in a corner and starts adjusting her camera’s settings.

dee and logan stand in the back, heads tilted toward each other, speaking quietly; he catches something about how brick’s in the theater program at school with roman before patton turns his attention to asking isadora a question about waltzing. at one point, brick accidentally catches dee’s eyes, and rather than scowl at them or anything, dee, instead, nods, as if in acceptance. brick’s shoulders relax, they nod back, and they turn to resume talking to elliott.

huh. that’s something.

he doesn’t really have time to think on it, though, because then the first wave of chilton kids start arriving.

the difference between the sideshire kids and the chilton kids is immediately stark, even though it’s not anything as visible as the quality of their clothes, or the way they look, or like all the chilton kids are wearing their blue-and-navy and the sideshire kids are wearing their red-and-white. 

it’s in the way they’re acting. 

the chilton kids are all in clumps of each other, and patton’s sure that logan and dee could tell him the precise clique each of them are in; a group of girls whisper behind hands and giggle together, and the sideshire cheerleaders look immediately ticked off at the sound of it. a group of chilton boys bump up against each other and ruffle hair in typical teenage rough-housing fashion, scoffing at their surroundings together, and the sideshire boys—if patton’s looking at them right, he thinks that group’s mostly the hockey team—look like they’re ready to go over and join in with the rough-housing with a much less friendly intention.

so. patton might have his work cut out for him. he'd say the same for isadora, but he holds no illusions about the fact that isadora will be able to rule her half of teenagers with a firm hand.

once the time ticks to the new hour, patton looks at isadora, who simply nods at him.

right. patton’s doing this on his own, then.

he steps forward into the front of the room, clapping a few times to get everyone’s attention; their conversations die down, and all of their eyes turn on him.

all of their eyes. they’re all watching him. waiting for what he’s going to say. a group of teenagers. yay. so fun.

why is patton’s mouth suddenly so dry.

patton wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants, trying to pass it off like he’s putting his hands in his pockets.

“hi!” he says, in a bright and cheerful tone that sounds fake to his own ears. “i’m patton sanders, some of you might know me as the manager of the independence inn here and town, others might just know me as logan’s dad.”

logan hunches his shoulders slightly when some chilton kids look back at him, looking so much like virgil for a second that patton’s heart pulses a little stronger than usual.

“—and this is ms. prince,” patton continues, gesturing to isadora, “she owns the ballet studio here in town and has been very gracious to let us use this space and to join in on teaching you kids how to waltz properly. she’s a professional ballerina, so this is a really unique opportunity for everyone!”

isadora crosses her arms over her chest. the kids do not look particularly enthused about this really unique opportunity.

“okay,” patton says. “um—if you haven’t already, go ahead and grab your nametags over there at that table, that’s roman, he’s gonna help us out with the waltzing today. we’re splitting you up into two groups, we’ve already assigned—”

some of the kids groan.

“—you’re probably still going to be with some of your friends!” patton continues. “um, it’s just the two groups, one of them will learn dancing first and the other one will get a review of the proper etiquette to have at these sorts of events, and then we’ll switch, and then we can convene back together as one big group to answer any questions you might have, or practice the dance all together, does that sound good?”

there’s a chorus of teenagers grumbling in agreement.

“okay!” patton says, putting a lot of effort into maintaining his bright tone. “if you’ll take a look at your name tag, red dots are with ms. prince first, blue dots are with me, all right?”

there isn’t even a chorus of teenagers grumbling in agreement this time.

“um,” patton says, then, because it seems like the thing to do, “any questions?”

it is a terrible mistake.

“didn’t you get pregnant when you were sixteen?” one of the chilton girls with a very familiar pair of eyes and a strikingly similar chin (god, if this kid is somehow related to shauna christy, and she probably is, patton’s going to have a terrible time trying to teach her anything) and patton clears his throat.

“i, um—yep. yep, i did—”

“wait, you got pregnant?” another chilton student says.

“i’m trans,” patton says, really hoping this isn’t going where it’s about to go, “so, any questions about the ball—”

the first girl, the one who might be related to shauna christy, makes a loud noise as if she is about to ask another question, but there is something louder that even makes patton jump a little.

the entire room swivels to look at what has caused the noise, only to see dee with his hands hovering casually in the air, as if he’s still holding the massive block that isadora uses as a standing prop.

“christy,” dee says, still with that same calm voice (aha! a tiny voice in patton’s head says, i was right, she IS related to shauna!) “if you continue this line of questioning, everyone in this room will know precisely why the words ‘snyder’s hanover’ are significant to you.” 

christy goes incredibly pale, and she squeaks out, “how the hell could you know about—?”

“well, i didn’t,” dee says, looking remarkably pleased with himself. “not for sure, anyways, but now i do.”

the chilton students turn curious eyes to christy, who goes beet red.

dee surveys them all with the same air patton's mother gets whenever she’s observing the way a new maid cleans to see if it’s to her satisfaction. 

“i know at least five significant things about every chilton student in this room,” he continues imperiously. “if you all don’t shut up and let us get this over with so i can get a unique college essay and not just a story about how i was adopted at a young age that thousands of other students will surely have, i will sow social chaos unlike anything this school has ever seen. those of you who will recall the nettie eckstrand incident will know that is not an idle threat.”

a tall, blond boy snorts and says, “what are you gonna do about it? swim back home to haiti?”

“hey,” patton says sternly, but before he can really lecture this boy, dee holds up a gloved hand.

dee looks at the boy, sweeping his eyes up and down him. the entire room is silent; though the chilton kids are clearly waiting with bated breath, even the sideshire kids seem like they’re interested, a fresh batch of drama and gossip that doesn’t affect their school at all. the boy is all smirking, postured swagger, every inch the stereotypical young, rich white boy who’d known no consequences.

then dee looks him dead in the eyes and says, “pj harvey.”

okay, look, patton doesn’t know why a musical artist who was very popular in the nineties has to do with anything, but before he can say anything the boy surges forward, as if to fight him—

“HEY, HEY!” patton yells— 

—and he’s stopped in his tracks by two of his friends who step in to hold him back, and he huffs, straightening his jacket with a bit more fervor than necessary. he stalks off, which doesn’t have quite the effect it would’ve if he’d stormed out of the room.

dee hadn’t even flinched.

patton looks to isadora for help—he can’t imagine she’s often had brawling ballerinas in her classroom, though—but before either of them say anything, a tiny, dirty-blonde girl bursts out from the corner.

“now that the male posturing is done,” she declares impatiently, “can we get to the part where we subvert patriarchal expectations, please? we all have homework to do after this and some of you really need to at least try to make it seem like school is for more than making out with each other and killing your brain cells with alcohol.”

“okay!” patton blurts out, before anyone else can try to start a fight with her, “blue dots over here, please, blue over here!”

the girl comes over to his side of the room first, as does dee.

great.

patton spies her nametag, too; POPPY MCMASTER.

ah. she’s the escort to logan’s debutante. 

even better.

as logan’s crossing the room to join with the red dots, patton bends his head close to his ear and murmurs, “goodness, aren't your chilton friends…" he wracks his brain for a good word, "so enthusiastic?”

logan scowls, and returns in an equally quiet voice, “first of all, that is not exclusively a chilton thing, you have known roman for over a decade, and secondly, poppy isn't quite a friend, she has more attached herself to me in the hopes that i will be a mentor to her and give her an editor position her junior year.”

patton opens and closes his mouth a few times, before he says, "excellent," what on earth is in the water at that school, before he pushes logan gently in ms. prince’s direction and turns his attention to the group of teenagers.

they are not any less intimidating when halved.

“right,” patton says brightly. “let’s get this Get Cultured day started!”