#i did my HOMEWORK without becoming EXHAUSTEd so i FINALLY got to DRAW

[nerves-nebula]

Help! I’m horny for the alien in the body I built it, which we both spent a lot of time designing to make as cool and to our preferences as possible! who could have foreseen this.

kind of a sequel to this

[marvelettesassemble]

A long time (Sirius x Reader)

Summary: It did take a while for you and Sirius to find your way to each other – and then you lost him when he was landing himself in Azkaban. But will you find each other again?

Warnings: blood, injuries and a bit of screaming

Word Count: ~ 4.700

Being best friends with the Marauders came with good and bad things.

You started to get really close to them when you figured out their little secret. They thought they were so clever, but if you looked closer and if you put together the signs it wasn’t really hard to figure out. Remus Lupin was a werewolf. How else would you explain his look every full moon? Him becoming restless before it and exhausted afterwards?

Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were also strange when the full moon was near. They fussed about Remus, became somehow protective of him and especially the first two started picking more fights than usual. It wasn’t also pretty hard to figure out that three of them planned to become animagi, especially when they carried a mandrake leaf under their tongue for a month.  

That is if you really paid attention. And you did. Not because you wanted to get their attention, but because you were worried about Remus and were impressed what his friends were willing to do for him. You liked Remus, because he never failed to help you when he noticed you were struggling. And he always wished you a good day when he walked past you in the mornings. Or he just shoved the coffee in front of you, when the pot in front of you was already empty. He had soon noticed, that you despised tea.

And because all of that you noticed that the lot of them looked more ruffled than ever. You decided to help in your own way. You read about healing spells and how to make potions to help with their injuries. After the next full moon, you waited in the common room. You noticed that the portrait opened and were sure you heard something, but couldn’t see anyone.  

“I know you’re there,” you said and hoped it would do the trick. Nothing. “I know why you sneak out every full moon.” Again. Nothing. Okay, maybe that did nothing to reassure them that you wouldn’t rat them out. “I have some ointments for your injuries and am pretty good with healing spells.” Still nothing and them finally the head of Peter appeared.

“Could you have a look at my arm?” he asked.

“Peter,” Sirius and James hissed at the same time. But the damage was done and so they got rid of their invisible cloak while you patted the seat next to you on the couch. Peter plopped down and showed you a gash on his arm.

“Why are you doing this?” James asked suspicious.

“Because I like Remus and I want to help,” you said simply. That didn’t ease their minds but they let you patch them up and soon it became a habit when they went out on their nightly walk. Slowly a friendship started to form when they realized you wouldn’t rat them out.  

James greeted you when he sat down in front of you and Sirius stole a piece of toast from you before he took the seat next to you. “We may need your help,” he said with his mouth full of toast.

You made a noise that you heard him and he should continue while you were chewing your eggs.

“You know that we have problems running into teachers and prefects for a while, right? So, we thought we could create a map,” James said.

“A map of what?” you asked and took a sip of your drink.

“Hogwarts of course,” James said.

“We’re going to put a spell on it, so we can see where someone is at that moment. So, we can get faster to Moony.”

“Sure, that’s the only reason you want this. Okay, but what should I do?”

“We want you to draw it for us. You have way more talent. Come on, please?” James tried to bribe you. “For Moony.”

“Okay, but I need some time. I have to write that essay for Professor Binns and my homework for potions and there’s the Hogsmeade trip on Saturday.” Finally you agreed to help them Saturday afternoon after your trip to the town.

Somehow you knew that you’d regret that decision. You walked into the common room, your cheeks still red and your thoughts were somewhere else, when you heard your name.

“How was the date?” James wriggled his eyebrows.

“Well, the astronomy tower isn’t that creative,” Sirius gave his input. You stopped.  

“How the hell did you know?” you walked closer to them and saw that James tried to hide a suspicious looking paper under his charms book. Remus didn’t look up from his homework and Peter tried to suppress his giggle.

“YOU ARE UNBELIEVABLE!” you exploded. “HOW DARE YOU?”

The boys looked shocked at you and Peter stopped his laughing. You had never used that tone with them.

“Give me that,” you grabbed the Marauders Map from James book.  

“Hey,” he protested.

“I helped you to help Remus.” You lowered your voice. It wasn’t as if you want to expose your friend although you were angry. “I didn’t expect you to stalk me and I’m so disgusted by you. How dare you to betray my trust like that? I don’t want to see any of you right now.”

“But, but... the map?” you heard Peter behind you.

“You get it back when you need it,” you yelled and stormed towards your room. You had a nice evening, but now it was all ruined. There were tears in your eyes because you were so angry and the boys had seen them.

The next morning you saw the four boys sitting at the Gryffindor table when you entered the Great Hall. You walked past them and ignored their greetings.  

You sat down almost at the other side, but it didn’t take long for a hand with a coffee to appear in front of you.

“You don’t get it back,” you said and grabbed your own cup to fill it with coffee.

“You can’t keep it forever, we need it,” you heard Sirius voice.

“And when you need it, you’ll get it.” You said simply and took a sip of your drink. It was too hot and you burned your tongue, but you didn’t make a face and acted as if nothing had happened.

When you didn’t add anything and started to pile some food on your plate, he left you alone after he placed the cup in front of you. They tried a few times to get the map from you, but you didn’t give in.

However, on the night of the next full moon you sat in the common room in front of the fire, the map in front of you. When you saw the guys you gave it to them and simply said “Take care”, before they left the room under the invisible cloak.

You waited for them to return just like always. But it took them much longer to arrive than usual. And when they walked into the room without the cloak on you realized why. They had problems bringing Sirius in. They couldn’t bring him to the infirmary – what should they say? We became illegal animagi so we could help our werewolf friend shift?

That Remus was a werewolf was no secret so he could go to the infirmary and were escorted to the common room, but his friends? They were at your mercy.

“What happened?” you asked. You tried to wake yourself faster and even slapped yourself in the face. Your next thought did the trick. “You’re not bitten, are you?”

“No, it was an accident. He ran into my antlers,” James said and let his friend down. He aimed for the sofa but instead Sirius sat in front of it.  

“Okay, okay. Let me see,” you said. “I’m going to undress you, yeah?” you said. When you didn’t even get a sassy reply you started to worry. “Are you still with us?” you fumbled with his jacket but his Pullover started to get a bigger problem as it was also in the wound.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” you heard him and relief flooded you.

You turned towards the other boys. “I need some time to clean this. The others will wake up soon, can we move him to your dorm?” The three of you somehow managed it and Peter went back to get the evidence of the accident.

“Okay, okay. I don’t even know where to begin,” you talked to yourself. James started to say something, but you shushed him. And then you got to work.

It did take a lot of time, so much, that you weren’t even nearly finished when the first lesson started. You stayed with Sirius when James and Peter walked towards class, working on an excuse for the both of you. Remus walked into the dorm when you were still working on his friend. He looked like death, but he was startled when he noticed Sirius condition.  

He asked how he could help you and when you finally finished you were so exhausted that you fell asleep sitting on the floor with your head on Sirius bed.  

You woke up, when someone shook your shoulder and called your name. “We brought you something to eat,” you heard James voice. “And you need to get up, this can’t be comfortable. Sit down on my bed.”

You agreed and walked slowly towards the bed he had pointed at and took a bite of the offered sandwich. “I’m really beat. I don’t think I’ll make it to my dorm, would it bother you much, if I sleep here?”

James told you you were free to use his bed and you didn’t even finish the sandwich before you passed out again – sandwich still in your hand.

“Hey, do you want to sit with us?” Sirius asked the next day when you walked into the great hall.

“No, thank you. I think I’ll sit with the girls today,” you replied. “I also need to copy yesterday's notes.” You walked further towards your dorm mates when Peter came and sat down next to the boys.

“Sirius, the newest gossip is about you,” he started. Sirius made a noise that told him he was listening but was not really interested. He’d heard a lifetime of gossip about himself.

“It’s about you and her,” he pointed towards you with his head as his hands were busy with the food, “and why both of you weren’t in class yesterday.”

“Seems like McCallan doesn’t like it also, he’s shooting daggers at you with his eyes.” James piped in.

“He’s the guy she dates, right?” Peter asked.

“Sirius, don’t,” Remus simply said.

“What?” Sirius started.

“You know what” Remus finished.

Sirius smirked and stood up. He walked towards you and put his arms around your shoulder from behind so his face was at your ear. “Can I get those notes from you?” he asked.

“Why don’t you ask James? He doesn’t need to copy them first,” you asked not surprised.

“Because nobody can read what he writes. Come on, give me yours,” he nudged your shoulder before he grabbed your cup and took a sip from it. He noticed that the girls you were sitting with stared at him.

“Okay, fine. You’ll get it tonight.” He thanked you and gave you a light kiss on your hair before he disappeared again.

“What was that about?” Marlene asked.

“What?”

“His behaviour around you? I thought you said there wasn’t anything going on between the two of you?” she asked further.

“There isn’t. Sirius is a big flirt; he does that always. And I’m not the only one on the receiving end, so it doesn’t really bother me.” You shrugged.

“Well, I know at least one person who is bothered,” Lily said and looked right at the guy that James had also mentioned. You turned around and waved, but received just a glare.

“Sirius is just a friend,” you said again.

Not everyone believed you. A few days later McCallan and you decided you wouldn’t see each other anymore. He was bothered by your friends and told you you shouldn’t see them anymore. You didn’t want to hear any of that. Even if you wanted that how should you pull that off? You were in the same house. And you didn’t want to do that. If someone didn’t trust you then what’s the point?

“It's not easy being friends with you,” you sighed when you sat down on the couch in the common room.

“Oh, we know. But why exactly?” James asked.

“Because every guy has a problem with me being friends with you guys.” You threw your arms theatrically in the air.

“There is an easy solution, you know?” Sirius said and looked up from the game in front of him. “Date one of us. We can actually stand each other.”

“Yeah, right.” You scoffed. “But I need to ask you something else. Can someone help me with Defence Against Dark Arts? I really need your help. I swear I couldn’t save myself if my life depends on it.”

“That’s why everybody has different talents. But we’ll help you. Tell us what you struggle with,” James offered while Sirius looked back at the game played with Peter and Remus.

“Okay, what’s up with Sirius?” you asked finally when you sat down next to James in the classroom.

“What?” he asked confused and turned to look at you, after he suddenly closed his book so you couldn’t see what he has written in there.

“I asked what’s wrong with Sirius. He doesn’t act like himself.”

“He likes you,” he said as if it were as simple like that. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed before. Didn’t it struck you as strange, that whenever you interacted with someone interested in you, he was near and touched you in some kind of way.”

“I thought he was still acting like this because of that map,” you said confused.

“Sometimes you’re a helpless case,” James patted your head while he laughed in your face.

You thought about James words the whole day. But it was James who had said something like that and what if this was some sort of a prank? If you had to be sure you needed a second opinion and you were sure that Remus would be honest with you.

“Hey Remus, can I talk to you?” you asked him when all of you left the table in the Great Hall. He nodded and the others looked curious at you while you stayed behind.

“Does Sirius like me?” you asked when the others were out of the hearing range.

“Why are you asking?” He wasn’t sure what he should answer.

“Does he? I asked James why Sirius acted weird and he told me he liked me. But I don’t want to make a fool out of myself in case this was a prank, so I’m asking you. Does Sirius like me?”

Remus nodded. You let out your breath slowly. You hadn’t thought so far and what you’d do with that information.

“You don’t have to act on it. Think about it and see where it leads you,” Remus suggested and that was what you did. Sirius and you didn’t become a couple overnight. You started touching here and there – an arm thrown over your shoulder, your knees touching when you sat next to each other and finally you’d take his hand when you were walking to the same class. You didn’t really talk about it; it seemed natural that one night he kissed you goodnight before he went to his dorm and from then on it was sealed that the two of you were together.

Dark. That would be the best word to describe Grimmauld Place 12. It was dark and depressing. You were astonished that Sirius had managed to live her as long as he did.

After you rang the bell you heard screaming and shouting from the inside. The door was opened and you were greeted with a wand almost in your nose. You looked surprised at your old school friend Remus Lupin, just a bit older and more beaten up. Behind him someone screamed blood traitors.

“What happened the first time you tried to heal me?” Remus voice was darker than you remembered.

“You had cut your hand in herbology and hadn’t told anyone about it. I thought I was a genius for making Murtlap essence but had used the wrong ingredient and you had to go to the infirmary because your hand started to get purple and there were blisters between your fingers.”

Suddenly the wand disappeared from your nose and a smile showed on Remus face. “Come in, come in,” he ushered you inside and closed the door quickly behind you. The noise was almost deafening when you were inside. Remus closed some curtains in front of the painting and when you heard the words only muffled you realised that the woman in the portrait screamed them.

Remus threw an arm around your shoulder and led you to the kitchen. You were greeted with more eyes than you had anticipated and one of them caught your eye. “Lily,” left your lips before you could think about. “I’m so sorry, this must be so weird, but your eyes.”

“No, it’s okay. I hear it a lot actually,” Harry said. Remus didn’t need to point out who he was. You had recognised him at once even if you hadn’t seen him since he was one.  

“I’m really sorry, that we haven’t been there for you. Really sorry.” He didn’t say anything. It wasn’t okay. Remus introduced you to the others: Weasleys over Weasleys, Harrys school friends and Sirius cousin Nymphodora (who told you she would hex you, if you called her that).

“It’s so good to see you again,” you looked at Remus when everyone sat down. Molly offered tea, but someone interrupted that you only liked coffee. Your eyes went immediately to the door. There he stood – Sirius. You couldn’t say anything. You had imagined what you’d say to him, but now no words would come out.

“Well it’s a long time since we have seen each other, huh?”

It was suddenly so quiet you could’ve heard a needle drop. You weren’t sure if they knew about you, but the tension was filling the room. That was until you exploded. “That is the first thing you say to me after all this time? You couldn’t think of something dumber?”

“Well,” he started slowly, but you weren’t done yet.

“You weren’t the only one who lost someone. Remus and I lost our friends too. We lost all our friends, not just Lily and James. But you couldn’t have thought about us, have you? If you had thought about Harry for a moment.”

“I THOUGHT ABOUT HARRY. HE WASN’T SAFE WITH PETER STILL OUT THERE,” Sirius interrupted.

“HE COULD HAVE BEEN SAFE WITH US! Look where it got you. Twelve years of Azkaban and you would still be there. What did you think? That I’d welcome you back with open arms after you left us?”

“Well, isn’t it nice? You’re all reunited, well almost all,” you heard the voice of Severus Snape. Snape would have been the next one who would have gotten an earful of you if Remus hadn’t put his arms in front of you. “Calm down,” he whispered.

“Would everyone who isn’t in the order leave now, so we can start the meeting?”

“Stupid asshole,” you muttered, but Ron heard you and snickered. You left the room with the younger ones and didn’t look at Sirius as you walked past him. They signed you that you should be quiet when you walked past the portrait.

When you were upstairs all of you took place in an unused living room. You sat down on the couch and dust came out of the cushion. “Cosy,” you joked.

“You aren’t in the Order?” Hermione asked when nobody knew how to start the conversation.

“No, I never was. I never had a knack for defending let alone attacking, although I had really good friends who tried to teach me. But it never really worked. I was sitting at home waiting for everybody to come back and to tend those injuries.” You shrugged.

“But the Order isn’t only about fighting,” the young witch continued.

“That’s true. But we figured it was better when I didn’t know some things. So, I stayed back, first alone and then I looked after Harry.” You smiled at the boy.

“Were you good friends with my parents?” he asked.

You nodded. “We went to school together. Your mom lived in my dorm and I befriended the boys. When we graduated, we stuck together. Your mom and dad moved in together, got married and had you. Remus, Sirius and I moved in together while Peter still stayed with his parents.”

You talked about an hour with the kids. “Were you and Sirius close?” Harry asked finally the question he had wanted to ask for a while..

Before you could answer a voice from the doorway answered for you. “We were in love.” You looked up to see Sirius standing there and you hadn’t imagined the pain you were feeling in that moment when you looked in his eyes.

“I need to go,” you said suddenly and you weren’t able to sit there any longer.

“We need to talk,” Sirius grabbed your arm and his touch startled you.

“We do, but not right now. I didn’t know what I expected when I followed Remus invitation. I’ll come back tomorrow and we talk, okay?” He nodded and reluctantly let go of your arm. You smiled at Harry before you walked out of the dark house and made your way home.

Remus put his hands on his friends' shoulder. “I told you she wouldn’t make it easy on you.”

“But it used to be so easy between us,” Sirius sighed. He didn’t expect you to look like you did and he was a bit insecure how he looked. He knew he didn’t look like he used to. Living on the streets and caves had left its marks on him.  

“Dinner will be ready soon,” Remus announced to the young witches and wizards, squeezed his friends' shoulder and made his way back downstairs.

A tiny owl was sitting on your window sill. You probably hadn’t heard it as it was raining so much. Swiftly you opened the window to let it in. You got an old towel and a piece of bread, spread the towel on your table and put bread crumbs in the middle before you sat the owl down and freed her from the letter it had carried.

You sat back down and opened the letter. You recognized the handwriting immediately.  

Darling,

Can you believe that I’m writing a letter to you? As if you were a distant family member? We could always talk about everything. I remember that I used to sit down next to you, laid my head on your shoulder and when you started to put your hands through my hair, I started to spill my secrets and worries. Or later when I’d join you in bed and you put your head on my stomach and I’d put my arms around you, just to feel that you’re still by my side?

You know that I’m selfish and it kills me to think if you’ve found someone else. Do you lay with them now? I don’t know if I should be happy or not. Because I shouldn’t wish for you to be alone and miserable all those years and still, I have that hope that you might have waited for me.

You were right, it wasn’t fair of me to leave you behind. But no one knew we switched the secret keeper. How was I supposed to know that Peter was the little snitch? Would you have believed me when I told you? I don’t think so. But to be honest I was filled by this rage. I had to make it right and not once did I thought that I would end up in prison.  

You know of all the things James had done for me. He took me in, he was like a brother and I needed to take revenge. Of course, I should have thought more about Harry. But I thought I put him in good hands. Honestly, I thought they would bring him to you and Remus. And all those times I thought you’d raise him.

I’m so sorry for burdening you with everything I did. I know I promised you other things. And when I saw you today, I couldn’t help myself to see everything that I could have had. We would have been married by now, we would have raised Harry like our own son and maybe we could have even one of our own. You know that I never saw myself like that, but when Harry entered the world all I know that if I would have a family it would only be with you.

I know it has been a long time, but when I saw you, I felt the same as the last time I saw you. I had this huge longing and it hurt me to see your hurt. I wish I could have taken it away.

But it doesn’t matter what I want, the only thing I can (and will) ask of you is that you don’t shut Harry out – even if you can’t stand to see me. He has to stay here for the break but if you want to see him without seeing me, just say so and I will stay out of your sight.

Yours forever,

Sirius

The next day you stood in front of that dark house. You weren’t sure if you should ring the doorbell or if it was better to not wake that awful portrait. The little owl in your hand took matters into its own wings as it wiggled until you set it free and it flew up to a window and started picking it with its beak. It took a while until you saw Harrys wild hair and it took a while for him to notice you.

It didn’t take him long to reach the front door and he opened it in his pyjamas. “I’m sorry I have woken you,” you smiled sheepishly at him. To be honest you couldn’t wait to see Sirius again. “How about I make you breakfast as a peace offering?”

He nodded and quietly the two of you walked into the kitchen. “He really misses you; you know?” he said suddenly when you were busy mixing ingredients in a bowl.

“I know,” you admitted. “I don’t want to offend you, but this is something Sirius and I have to figure out on our own, okay?” you turned around and looked at him to show him you weren’t angry at him. It didn’t take long for others to appear in the kitchen and Mrs Weasley was surprised and couldn’t really handle that anyone else was doing the breakfast so she took over step by step until you sat down next to Harry.

Sirius stepped into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks when he spotted you laughing with Harry.

“Won’t you sit down?” you pointed towards the empty chair next to you. He nodded and walked slowly towards you, almost as if he was afraid, he would frighten you and you’d jump and run.

You still made light conversation with Harry while sneaking a glance at Sirius here and there. Every time you were looking at him, he was staring at you. “Okay, so would you like to talk to me privately?” you asked him quietly.

“I’d do many things to you in private, but talking is okay for now,” he answered in your ear and your loud laugh startled the others in the room.

“You’ll never change,” you stood up and left the kitchen with him.

“Do you want me to change?” he asked and boldly took your hand to guide you into the direction of his bedroom.

“Never,” you admitted. It wasn’t everything settled between you and you still were angry at him, but in this moment, you knew that you’d get over it. You had missed his touch and his hand in yours, your fingers intertwining was the best you had felt in a long time.

Masterlist

[fushiguromi]

soundtracks — semi eita

synopsis: during your college life, semi eita already likes you. He indirectly confessed his feelings by singing a song to you, but you didn’t realize that the song he sang was his feelings for you.

pairing: semi x fem!reader

genre: fluff; college to timeskip; band au

word count: 3.6k

a/n: all songs and lyrics that are used in this story were my own composition, so i’m sorry if it’s not good HAHAHAHHA well, i tried my best hehe

The sun is up while you grumpily walk around the quadrangle of your school. It’s a hell day for you and you’re exhausted because of the homework, quizzes, and projects that you need to accomplish within a week.

As an honor student, you don’t want to disappoint your parents. You found a bench table beside a tall tree. You sat down and you fixed your hair and wipe your sweats around your face.

This day isn’t going well for you, your favorite sweater almost got ruined by a student that almost spilled a coffee towards you.

You roamed your eyes around. Many students are on the bench tables with their friends laughing and talking.

You took out your books to review for your upcoming quiz tomorrow. You were focusing on studying the book when you heard the strumming of the guitar and a soothing beautiful voice of a man.

Looking annoyed you looked up to see who’s disturbing your study time.

A man with a guitar placed on his elevated thigh singing for his friends. His aura and his looks reminded you of the handsome heartthrob that only knows how to break hearts with just a snap of his fingers.

He was biting his lower lip while his eyes were closed. The way his fingers shifted every time he changed chords and continuously plucking the strings of his guitar amazed you and to think that what his fingers can do to you.

You shook your head immediately because of that thought.

You had seen a lot of people playing with a guitar, but no one looked so passionate and angelic as him. He was like falling in love with music with the way he played each chord to create a melodious sound.

He looked oblivious to his surroundings as he played. Like he has his world just for himself and his guitar.

Music fills the air without effort, the sound rushing in and around every person in the place. Some react to the beat, others continue in chatter.

After his performance, his friends cheered and clapped for him. He just smirked and you didn’t realize that you were smiling widely at him until he looked at you.

“Semi! Your performance was so good!” A girl with short hair said to Semi and clings her arms on his.

Was it double meaning? Wait, what the hell?

You quickly averted your eyes on him and covered your face with the book you were holding earlier.

Until that day, you didn’t see him around the campus. But after he caught your attention, you happened to keep on crossing paths with him.

The next day, you found out that their band is famous around your place because they have gigs every Friday and Saturday at the cafe & bar near your school.

You heard that there is an event that’s happening at the gym tonight, so you went there to watch the battle of the bands. This is your first time to give attention to your school’s event because all you do was to study.

You narrowed your eyes while looking at Semi. They are preparing for the event. He’s holding his guitar while talking to his bandmates.

A lot of people came to the gym to support and watch them. While you stand there, Semi scanned his eyes around and stopped when his eyes met yours.

He looked stunned for a moment but he smiled and quickly averted his eyes.

The event started and you were amazed that a lot of bands participated in this event, but Semi’s band is different than the others.

They were really into it and feels like a concert. They made the stage and crowd theirs, many students cheered for them and the judges even gave them a standing ovation.

You were just smiling and clapping the whole evening, their song covers were on point, so this is what it feels like to watch them play?

You’re doing your essay at the bench table that you found yesterday. It’s peaceful and cloudy outside so you decided to settle there.

While you were typing on your laptop, someone sits down in front of you. Your eyes caught a glimpse of a cool guitar strap and you looked up to see the man yesterday smiling at you.

“You don’t have to be intimidated,” he assured you.

He placed his guitar on the table and you saw that he was also carrying a notebook and a marker.

You stared at him while he’s writing something in his notebook. He felt your gaze on him so he looked up.

“Sorry, am I disturbing you?” He asked while tapping his foot on the ground.

“Uh, no. I’m almost finished with my essay.” You replied. He smiled and nods.

You quickly finished your essay so you can look at him.

You glanced at his handwriting. It looked pretty neat and somehow understandable. You got curious, so you quickly read what he wrote on the page.

Invisible Line

You immediately recalled the lyrics he sang yesterday to his friends and the words written on the notebook was the same lyrics.

“You wrote that song?” You asked him.

“Yes, I did.” He smiled, then turned his head on you. “Did you like it?” You felt your cheeks blushed because you remembered how wide your smile was.

Biting your lower lip, you nodded.

“I sometimes come here to think about and write songs.” He told you. “But right now, I’m having trouble getting inspiration but then I saw you...”

Your lips slightly parted. You could feel your heart beating against your chest so hard. You had crushes with boys, but you never felt this kind of feeling.

You ignore him because you don’t know what to say. He writes so fast but you had a glimpse of the lyrics he was writing.

He grabbed his guitar and placed it on his thigh. He started strumming and looked at his notebook before singing.

We’re close but never together

I have to find a way, to get her next to me

So can we close the space between us now?

The distance that we don’t need

I kept collecting shooting stars

Just to wish for us

She’s everything I need

My safe haven...

He stares at you while he sings but after a while, he closed his eyes and bobbed his head to the sound.

As you stared at him, you realized that the Creator favored him so much that he was given such an attractive look— he has messy ash blonde hair with dark tips, his eyes are brown, perfect naturally trimmed eyebrows, and chiseled jaw.

He ends the song with a beautiful instrumental sound before he opens his eyes and smiled at you.

“What do you think?” He asked you while he put his head on his arm that was on the guitar.

You’re lost for a moment before replying, “I loved it,” you smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He chuckled and nodded his head, contented.

He picks up something from his bag. He suddenly gave out his guitar pick to you.

You only stared at it. You don’t know if you will get it.

“Here, take it.” He urged you. “It’s a thank you gift.” You stared at him confused.

“For what?”

You had no idea why he was giving out his guitar pick as a thank you gift. When you just met each other!

“Thank you for being my inspiration,” he answered. You could feel your cheeks heating up.

He took your hand, laid out your palm, and put his guitar pick there. It was a white guitar pick and it looked like a pearl or marble. There were small letters written on the edge.

S.E

That’s his initials.

“Won’t you be using this?” You asked him, even if you didn’t want to return it.

“Oh, don’t worry. I still have an extra at home.” He replied.

He suddenly holds your hand. Your hand rested on his palm, while he removed the lid of his pen using his mouth. He was drawing something on his guitar pick.

You felt like losing your sanity as you stared at the pick he gave you three years ago. The small heart he drew beside his initials was still there.

You didn’t see him again after that. You tried to go out again to the bench table a few times, but you didn’t see him at all.

Every time you’re stressed or sad, you would listen to the song inside your head. You engraved it in your memory the way he sings it.

I want to cross the line for her

But fate doesn’t want me to

I’ll just stare at her from afar

Even if it hurts...

“Zero Effect’s new album becomes the new best-selling album for the alternative rock band...”

Your eyes widened and you stopped what you’re doing when you heard a very familiar voice and song. It made you feel so nostalgic.

You looked up to the monitor in front and saw the news with a music video of the song playing through the speakers of the cafe.

It’s him! After three years... you finally saw him. Even through the screen.

Your heart gone wild and beating so loudly that you thought it would break.

“Semi Eita..” You whispered his name, after reading a piece of information about him and his band. “Zero Effect...”

You didn’t know how many times you watched their music video after you got home. You couldn’t stop yourself smiling.

You decided to check their social media accounts. Zero Effect have eight hundred thousand followers and it was following all the band members' accounts.

You followed them all before stalking Semi’s account. He had over five hundred thousand followers already.

His pinned tweet was a tweet that was promoting their latest album and his recent tweet was a picture of him and his bandmates.

@ZeroEffectJP

The interview video of Zero Effect’s ‘Fading Polaroid’ album is out now!

youtube./ZEfadingpolaroid

#ZeroEffectFPOutNow

There was a video link for their interview about the concept of their new album. You clicked on it.

The Zero Effect’s members appeared on the screen with the interviewer.

Your eyes immediately focused on Semi. He was wearing a sweater with like a blazer that’s fuzzy and a cross pendant necklace.

“We have here with us, the rising alternative rock band, Zero Effect!” The interviewer announced, and the members clapped their hands while smiling widely.

“Introduced yourselves first before we start our interview.”

“Hello, I’m Eita, the lead vocalist and guitarist of Zero Effect.”

You clapped your hands so hard after he was done with his introduction. You felt so proud. He was just a teenage boy before making music at school and make gigs on the weekends.

“Hi everyone! I’m Ryo, the bass guitarist.” He smiled at the camera and wink.

“What’s up? Hi! I’m Eiji, the leader, and keyboardist of Zero Effect.” Among the four of them, he’s the more serious and uptight one.

“Hellooo!! I’m Shiro, the drummer of the band.” He waved at the camera and smiled.

You laughed. The drummer always had that different effect than the others.

Whenever Semi smiles, you would pause the video to screenshot it. He looked so dashing.

After their introduction, the interviewer asked them questions about their album and personal life.

“So Eiji, how did you four meet?”

“We met during our college days,” Eiji answered. “We play as a band since then and we also had our gigs on the weekends.”

“Oh, okay so well, let’s talk about your new album!” The interviewer shifted the topic, “can you say something about that, Eita?”

Nodding his head, Semi looked at the interviewer. “Well, our first mini album is entitled Fading Polaroid. It contains five songs, and it is about lost love. It is an alternative rock ballad, which is composed and arranged by all of us.” He explained the concept of their album.

“There’s this one song called Invisible Line on the album that makes the fangirls, you know, like mixed emotions because of its lyrics. What is it about?” The interviewer got curious as she looked at Semi.

“Uh, okay..” he said awkwardly, “I wrote it three years ago.”

Your lips parted. You recalled that song because he sang it to you before.

“It’s about liking someone but the two of you can’t be together because there’s this invisible line between you two, but the guy wants to be with the girl.” He said, then smiled slightly.

“What inspires you to write that song? If there is?” She asked.

“Uhmm.. Yes, there is..” he said hesitantly.

Realizations hit you and your lips parted.

“I met this girl at our school where we used to study before,” he started talking about that day. “I always see her but I don’t have enough courage to walk up and talk to her, but one day I saw her smiled while I sing and that’s when I tried to open up to her.”

You stared at him while he talked about that day. You didn’t even know that the song he sang was for you.

“Oh.. So, you wrote that song for a girl, huh?” She teased Semi and made it sound scandalous.

“Yes, you can say that.” Semi answered and shifted on his seat.

“Did this girl get to hear the song?” She asked more.

“Yeah, she did.” Semi nodded his head a bit. “But only the chorus part.”

“Semi... I heard it now.” You told him through the screen. “I love it so much that it makes my heart hurt.”

“Do you still have contact with the girl?”

Semi shook his head, “I... I tried to but I don’t know how.” He explained and it made your eyes widened.

“Oh, then why don’t you use this chance to send a message to her?” The interviewer looked so excited as she looked at Semi.

His bandmates laughed, teasing him. They were urging him to look at the camera and do what the interviewer asked him to.

You don’t know what to do now as you looked at him on the screen. Your heart just doesn’t stop racing.

“Uhmm.. Hello?” His bandmates snickered beside him.

Semi already stared at the camera and spoke, “If you’re watching this, thank you for inspiring me to write songs,” he said and you felt your eyes are burning.

“Wherever you are right now, I hope you’re doing well and happy and I hope the song that I wrote for you can make you feel what I’m trying to say for you.” His bandmates clapped so hard and they were cheering for him.

Your lips curled upwards and nodded. The interview continued but you couldn’t focus because of Semi.

You had never idolized someone so much in your life. But at that moment, you were determined to support the band in any way.

Your hands trembled as you looked at the screen of your laptop. You just purchased a VIP ticket for Zero Effect’s meet and greet that will be happening today.

It was a surprise announcement for the fans. You’re glad that you immediately saw the announcement and instantly got a ticket.

There were only ten people that will occupy the VIP seats. Your lucky to be the one who got the last ticket.

As time passes by, you’re feeling nervous. What if he will not recognize you?

He’s an artist now, and you’re just his fan.

You’re driving towards the venue and you feel your heart beating so loud. You parked outside and showed your ticket to the guard.

When you got inside, you sat down on the chair for the VIPs and the stage is now fixed. There are guitars, mic stands, a piano, and a drum set.

The venue immediately filled up with Zero Effect’s fans and the chattering was so loud until a woman announced that the meet and greet will begin shortly.

“Okay! Let’s welcome, Zero Effect!” The woman said.

“We’ll be singing our second song from our album called Miss Sweater.” Ryo, their bass guitarist said and suddenly there’s a loud sound coming from the drums.

She said she likes my song

With a smile on her face

Oh, the way her bright eyes looks at me

Makes my heart shakes

The smiles she gives are so contagious

Now, she’s moving close (moving close)

My heart is racing

Head to toe, you know she’s dressed to kill

Semi looked over the crowd. There must have been at least two hundred people watching him, bathing in the dim different colors of lights of the venue, as he clutched tightly to his guitar. Pumping the music through his veins as he lost himself in the performance.

Nerves were trying to take over your body, as you stared at him up close. Eventually, he lost all sense of everything except for the music, it flows through his veins and swirls in his head. It makes his fingers strums and his foot tap.

His velvet voice brings the lyrics, the music is his external heartbeat and the lyrics are your soul in sweet vibrations.

It’s her mouth and those lips

I want to taste ‘em

It’s her eyes and her face

I want to stare ‘em

Can’t tame my heart alone

When she’s this close

Can we stop the time?

Where are we leading now?

The feelings, all of it is right there, when in that momentary exchange of glances when your eyes met and you smiled to him.

He seemed lost for a moment looking at you but he returned the smile, not leaving his eyes on you. So though the world may love their music, their words and their songs, music really only lives in those intense moments of love.

After the short performance, you lined up for the meet and greet. You became nervous as the line moves. And after nine people, it’s your turn now.

You walked to the other members, the first one is Ryo, the bass guitarist. He looked up to look so surprised.

“Hi! Your name is?” He asked while he took your hand to shake. You gave out the album for him to sign.

“Y/n. I really love your music.” While he signs the album he can’t stop stealing glances from you.

“Really? Well, someone is always inspired to compose,” he smirked. “Anyway, thank you for attending here today, I appreciated it.” He smiled and his eyes disappeared and you chuckled.

He stopped smiling as you smiled, “you look pretty while smiling.” Your eyebrows were raised because of what he said.

“Thank you..” that’s the only thing you said and moved on to their keyboardist, Eiji.

“Hello! Wow, that shirt is so cute! Nice choice.” He pointed at your shirt and laughed. You looked at your shirt with their chibi faces. You chuckled and give him the album.

“Yeah, you looked cute here.” You teased him. He immediately coughed, “thank you..” he looked carefully to the side where Semi was.

One more and then you will finally talk to Semi.

“Good Afternoon! How are you?” Shiro, the band’s drummer asked you while signing their album.

“Hello! I’m fine.” He finally looked up and his eyes widened. He quickly looked at Semi but averted his eyes.

“Uhm... Thank you for coming. Hope to see you, uh, soon, Y/n..” He blabbered and you looked at him surprised because he knows your name.

You suddenly got pushed by a woman who excitedly greets the band’s drummer. The guard blocked the girl’s way and kicked her outside because she came back again after her turn.

Your eyes met with Semi who instantly stand up, eyes widened, and looked so lost for a moment. You stared at him and feel the rush of blood to your cheeks.

“Y/n...” He whispered, but you quickly heard it and smiled at him.

“Uh, hello? Long time no see, Semi.” You said nervously. He shook his head to come back to his senses.

He pulled your hand but stopped when he felt something there. He looked at your palm and saw his guitar pick that he gave you.

“You still have it,” he mumbled. You nodded at him. He pulled your hand to go to their tent. You looked at his muscled back and broad shoulders.

“Do you still remember me?” He asked you while he sat down on the chair. He pulled one on his side and tapped it for you to sit down.

“Of course, Semi. You’re the one who liked me back in college..” you chuckled because he looked so shy when you said that.

“Well, yeah. I indirectly confessed to you buy singing the song I wrote for you.” You pursed your lips to prevent smiling.

“I’m so stupid for not realizing it.” He smiled and pouted before averting his eyes when you looked at him.

“So, what will happen to us now?” You asked. He turned his head at you fast.

“What do you mean us? Do you even like me?” He narrowed his eyes at you.

You looked at him straight in the eyes, “I started liking you when we were in college, right when you sang that song for me. But after that, you left.” You explained and he bit his lower lip before standing up.

“I left because I need to fix something first before proving to you that you deserve me. But fate has different plans for me so...” he said and pulled your elbow. He carefully put his chin on top of your head while he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry that we never happened before,” he sadly said, “but we can start all over again. Right this time.” You pushed him away to look at him.

Your heart was pounding so loudly as you stare at him. Slowly, you nodded. He smiled and hugs you.

“You are the soundtrack of my life, keeps me moving and passionate, and whenever our song plays, you are there, reminding me that you’re whispering in my ears...” You hugged him tightly and felt your eyes tearing up.

You only keep humming while he sings the song he wrote for you. He gently placed his hands on your waist, stared at you before he kissed your forehead.

BONUS:

[thatmomentwhen345]

Ok ummmmmmmmmmmmmm

These last two weeks have been very emotionally exhausting because of finals and what I’m about to tell you and I don’t really know how to sum it up so I guess you’re getting the same treatment as my Facebook (this is copied directly from the post on there and was posted on December 12th for context)

(This is the beginning of the Facebook post)

You guys, I don’t know what to do.

You might have gathered from my last few posts, but I’m not okay. And it will sound like such a stupid reason to the majority of you. But I made an irreversible mistake back in 2019 that has been haunting me for the past week. This is the first time that I can remember regretting a decision this much. Was it my stubbornness, my closed-mindedness? Was it my see-it-to-believe-it tendencies? Was it my inability to learn from my mistakes?

For those who don’t know, on November 13th of this year, the YouTube channel Unus Annus was deleted from the platform forever. After one year of daily videos by Markiplier and CrankGameplays, it was all gone. The point of the channel was to remind us to use our time that we have alive wisely, because Memento Mori. Remember that you must die.

The channel started on November 15th of 2019, and, well, I don’t know anything about their beginnings. I just saw their introduction video in my recommended or on trending or something and thought, “Is that Markiplier? Shouldn’t he be focusing on his own channel? Who’s this other guy?” and moved on without a second thought. I occasionally saw their videos in the trending tab but ignored them. I didn’t even know they had such a big following. I thought it looked stupid and didn’t think about it until, well, the end.

A few weeks ago, my brother was watching the final livestream that would mark the day that the channel was deleted for good. I was in the room with the livestream on the TV, watching their final hours tick by, still not thinking about the channel at all. Just like, oh hey that thing that people were talking about, wasn’t it like, a cult? I didn’t think about it at all until... the fifth of December? Was it really only a week ago? That feels like a lifetime away now...

The YouTuber FootofaFerret released a video called “Pretending Unus Annus Isn’t Over” and I saw it in my reccomended. https://youtu.be/8SMpCbI9U00 I was like, hey, yeah, I remember that thing that ended. I trusted Foafy’s judgement because of his previous videos about saying goodbye to Steven Universe. So I watched it and don’t really remember how it made me feel. I just remember him saying that the Unus Annus fandom was in mourning and I was like “aw poor guys I’ve seen on TikTok some people are sad about it”. Foafy also suggested that people who were wanting more of the Unus Annus vibe to watch Mark’s Markiplier Makes playlist. I watched some of them and, again, moved on.

The timeline is fuzzy from here on. I’m still processing it, honestly. I think I might have looked up the Unus Annus theme (Turncoat by Michael Rothery) first? Then I think I found some compilations or clips from their videos and was like wow this stuff is funny. And then I realized that there are archived versions of all of their videos (that’s against the rules of Unus Annus for those who don’t know) and... don’t hate me... went looking for them. I watched two in full. I won’t say which two but just know that the second one I specifically searched out because I knew that they did a lot of random stuff on there and that there was a chance that they would do it too. And they did! It was a funny video. I realized how much of a fun dynamic that Ethan and Mark had and looked for more compilations. The more I watched, the more I realized that I had made a terrible mistake in 2019.

I had missed out on so much. And I couldn’t take it back without breaking the rules. The concept of Unus Annus intrigued me so much, all of the people involved on the channel worked so well together, they were all so funny, but now I could never experience it in full because I was stubborn and, well, thinking about other things this year. I could have jumped in at any point between then and November 13th of this year but I chose not to.

Monday was a rollercoaster. 1st stage: denial. I was like well this doesn’t matter, I’m not even in the UA fandom, it’s gone and I don’t care. But it wasn’t that simple of course. I kept watching the Markiplier Makes videos and the UA compilations and became particularly interested in Ethan. He seemed very genuine and sensitive and his on-camera chemistry with Mark was really entertaining. 2nd stage: anger. I was furious at myself for missing out. Those two videos I watched in full were just small teasers for what the entire channel was like. I hated that I couldn’t take it back. And I hated that if I did, I would’ve broken the rules and gone against Mark and Ethan’s wishes, which I also wouldn’t be able to take back. I was horribly conflicted. 3rd stage: bargaining. I desperately went after any content surrounding Unus Annus that I could without breaking the rules, and was still considering watching the illegal archives. I haven’t watched any more of them in full, but sometimes I watch parts of them in incognito mode when it becomes too much to bear.

Tuesday was... Tuesday had to have been the longest day I’ve had the entire year. 4th stage: depression. It was slowly sinking in, the gravity of my mistake. I was starting to realize how much of a phenomenon Unus Annus was and that it was so unique and had such a cool message and that it made so many peoples’ 2020 just a little bit better, but not mine. I then did what I always do and found my comfort in music. I put on a bunch of good songs that I hadn’t heard in a while and just... sat there painstakingly doing my math homework. I couldn’t concentrate on anything the whole day. Monday, either. The song Goodbye to a World by Porter Robinson came on and I was like hey, this song perfectly suits the way I’m feeling right now. I wondered if anyone else had made connections between this song and Unus Annus and looked to see if there had been any AMVs (animated music videos) about the idea and the end of UA. Lo and behold, this popped up and I watched it! https://youtu.be/-q-oByQWdlM It hit all the right spots and I just started bawling. What had I done? Why had I missed this opportunity to improve my 2020, just a little bit? Why had I missed this opportunity to get to know Mark and Ethan better? Everyone who had watched all of their videos could feel peace after the end, like Mark and Ethan. But I couldn’t. I could only forever regret my mistake. MY mistake.

Terrible things have happened this year, but all of them have been out of my control. This, however, was my fault. And I can never take it back. And I am having a very hard time handling that.

I don't know how many times I cried on Tuesday. The next song to come on after I watched the AMV was As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese which of course broke me even further. This song also perfectly encapsulated my dilemma. Later I finished my tribute drawing of the channel logo and felt the smallest bit better. The rest of the day is a blur.

Wednesday was better, I guess? I thought I had made it to the 5th stage: acceptance. I was still very sad and mad at myself but I was starting to realize that there was nothing I could do. I subscribed to Ethan’s channel and started getting to know him better. He’s so sweet and talented ☺️

But no, acceptance is still far away. Thursday and Friday were barely better than Tuesday. I painted my nails black and white as a way of coping. I went to a livestream on Ethan’s Twitch and it was really fun! I started watching more of his streams and on one of them he mentioned that his Twitch chat mods had TikToks. So I wondered if he also had a TikTok, which he does! I looked to see if he posted one on the day UA ended. The answer was no but he did post one the day after asking if someone with the skills required could make a mashup of the song Cancer by My Chemical Romance and As the World Caves In. https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJqgyrkR/ I was like wowie this guys got taste! And so I looked up if there was a mashup. As a matter of fact, there was one by Clem Turner on YouTube that came out only three days after the end of Unus Annus. https://youtu.be/a5RTVoreSAY I cannot express how much I love this, what it made me feel, and how much it hurt/helped. So I commented on Ethan’s TikTok about it and only a few hours later a new comment appeared on Clem’s video. Ethan had seen it! So I’m just gonna assume I was responsible for that... not only that but half of the comments on the mashup were about Unus Annus as you can see below. I realized how big of a following UA had and felt bad (because of course the people who had actually been with UA the whole way would be grieving a lot more than me), but also, comforted by the fact we could all connect over the loss of something important to them, if in a lot of different ways.

I’m far from getting over this. I’m far from being okay. I’ve never really felt like this before. I feel like a different person than I was last week. But I wanted to write all this down to let it out, process it a little bit, and maybe get some comfort from you guys. It’s completely understandable if you didn’t read this all the way through so...

TLDR: Memento Mori.

(This is the end of the Facebook post)

What I just described really shifted a lot of things in my head in a way I didn’t expect and in a very short amount of time. So, long story short, my Steven Universe hyperfixation ended very suddenly because of an outside factor and I probably won’t be posting a lot about it anymore. Hope you understand.

(art by me but I used the official UA logo as a reference)

[akirakurusuimagines]

Connected

@p5auweek​ day four: Soulmate AU (Potential Soulmates are able to talk to each other telepathically for a few minutes at a time.) 

You clicked your pen listlessly, your focus miles from the classroom and your professor’s dull lecture, completely and utterly absorbed in your grumpy mental chant to leave, leave, leave. Today was just an irritating day, only a couple weeks into the semester and you were already completely over it. You regret not taking full advantage of your spring vacation, especially now, where you were stuck with Ms. Chouno’s latest tangent. You just wanted to go home, cuddle up in your blankets, and take a nice, long nap. 

I get it, so can you be quiet now, please? You’re not the only one who wants to leave.

You froze at the sudden voice, head whipping every which way inside the classroom, looking for any potential people who spoke to you, anyone who met your eyes with a glare, anything. Thinking for a moment, you realized you didn’t recognize that voice, despite being vaguely familiar with most students in your class. If it didn’t come from inside the classroom, then did it come from inside your head? No, that couldn’t be it. Right? That’s just preposterous! Maybe it was just your imagination, you were bored to the point of insanity. 

Yeah, I’m just going crazy. That’s it, you convinced yourself, considering the lingering silence in your head. No wonder, she’s dragging on and on and⁠— 

Seriously, look, I don’t know what’s going on either, but can you please keep your thoughts to yourself for five minutes? The voice inside your head returned. It was rather light and gentle, but the snark in his voice was inevitable. Whoever managed to sneak inside your head didn’t seem like a fan of whatever was going on, either. 

Absolutely not! you retorted, eyebrows pinching together as you had to make sure to speak inside your head to this stranger. Get out of my head! 

I could say the same to you.

But you were the one who got in my head in the first place!

No, I think it’s the opposite.

“Whatever!” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, unintentionally drawing attention to you from the other students in the form of giggling and snickering. Your cheeks reddened with shame as Ms. Chouno’s glare pierced right through your soul, though she continued the lesson without a word, likely choosing to confront you after class for your outburst. 

Regardless, the noise in your head died down and you were left to your own devices. Yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to try to contact the mysterious man again, half in fear that you were actually going crazy and it was a figment of your imagination, and half in fear that you weren’t and that he was going to be a permanent resident inside your head. 

That was the first day you heard his voice. 

Since then, his voice would only creep up upon you and scare the living shit out of you at the most inconvenient times, really. Once, he had blurted out the answer to the question you were pondering on an exam which caused you screamed in surprise. Luckily, the professor believed you when you nervously explained that you saw a bug and it shocked you and let you off with a warning.

Conversations between the two of you would only last for a few minutes at a time, and usually left you exhausted afterwards, though whether it was the bickering you two often found yourself engaging in or whether it was the energy needed to talk to someone telepathically, you weren’t sure. 

Neither one of you were comfortable enough with the other to use your real names or give any other kind of information, and you were perfectly fine with that, but you still laughed at him for a few minutes when he told you to call him Joker. What kind of a nickname was that? With the way he snorted when you announced yours, he didn’t think it was much better. 

There were a few times when you could’ve sworn you heard him say something rather odd⁠— yet anytime you asked him about it, he’d pull out one of the rules that you two set up with each other to have some form of privacy when you were at school, since it seemed like the only time that strange connection ever happens and you’d respectfully back off, but it didn’t make you any less suspicious of him.

It was strange, but you got used to hearing Joker’s voice in your head, and admittedly began to look forward to it. It was a nice distraction from the strange life you had at Shujin, and you wondered if he felt the same way about talking to you. The way he seemed to lighten up and become more and more friendly with you seemed to indicate that, especially considering you two were listening in on the depths of each other’s psyche. 

A couple months of your interactions with him passed by, and you noticed that most of your conversations with him were short and blunt compared to the light banter you two normally had. You couldn’t blame him; the situation involving the mafia’s more aggressive movements in Shibuya recently was nothing to scoff at. Perhaps he was worried about it? He never answered you when you asked, yet you still worried for him. He seemed like the type to get himself caught up in trouble. 

Trusting your gut, you set off to stake out Shibuya, settling yourself comfortably within Big Bang Burger and hoping to connect with him while you were there. He was worrying you. You weren’t exactly ready to give up that strange bond you had with Joker for him to up and die from messing with the mafia.

So you waited.

And you waited. 

And waited some more. 

You were beginning to think this wasn’t your best idea. Hours passed and no sign of life inside your head other than yours, which you had to admit, was a lot lonelier than you would’ve first imagined. Sighing aloud, you packed up your things, at least grateful for the opportunity to finish your homework, as difficult as it was. The kind woman working the register bid a farewell as you exited, wincing slightly at the change of lighting. It was time you started heading home, your parents were sure to wonder where you’d been the entire time, considering how dusk was nearing already. 

Yet your legs refused to move towards the subway, that small glimmer of hope in your chest of at least getting to properly talk with Joker winning over your rationality. You wandered around the streets of Shibuya for a little longer, making as much racket in your head to try and see if Joker would respond. Then again, he might not even be here and all you’re doing is wasting your time. 

It really was a mistake on your part to let yourself get so distracted with improbable ideas. You could tell rather quickly which people felt shady as hell, and despite your attempts to steer away from them, they seemed to be attracted to you like moths to a flame. They badgered you with easy money, simple jobs, promises of wealth, anything they think would be attractive to a high schooler like you. Everytime you dismissed them, they came back, more eager to get you to agree than before. 

You should’ve made a run for it, towards the subway station, and just hop on the first train and go, but you were too late. At your continuous refusal, one of the shady men who hounded you grew absurdly irked, perhaps because he was falling behind on his quota, and snatched your wrist, pulling you back into the shadow of an alleyway and pressing a knife against your throat. 

You froze up completely at the sensation, hardly even registering the words being said to you by the man who reeked of tobacco and booze. The realization of what was happening made your heart race, the blood pumping loudly in your ears, as you repeatedly pleaded in your head, keeping as still as possible in hopes that he’d just let you go. Please, Joker, please⁠— please answer me! you beseeched, quickly losing faith in this plan of yours, but it was the only one that came to mind. 

What’s happening⁠—? Where are you?! 

You nearly cried in relief, hearing the startled and panicked voice of the man you’ve never seen yet feel so close to. He was close. In the alley across from the beef bowl shop, please hurry, I⁠— 

“So what, you’re just not gonna answer me?” You bit back a gasp as the dull edge of the knife dug a little deeper into your neck, the man clearly displeased with your lack of response. “Are you gonna agree, or am I gonna have to get nasty?” 

“I wouldn’t recommend that if I were you,” a cool, deep tone sent shivers down your spine. It was familiar, and yet you still couldn’t see who it was. You were too afraid to look with a knife pointed to your throat. “Try anything and I’ll shoot.” 

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing⁠—?!” The grunt spat out, though with the way his tone wavered as a click behind his back rang loudly in his ears. 

“Go, and don’t you dare try this again.” 

“Nngh…” he withdrew his knife from your neck and shoved you aside, before rushing off to god-knows-where. 

You barely managed to catch yourself, body trembling slightly at the terrifying experience, before you finally looked to see who it was who saved you. “T-Thank you,” you managed to mutter. 

“What are you doing here? You know Shibuya isn’t safe for students right now,” the tall student who bore your same uniform stared down at you, concern etched all over his face. The voice clicked, hearing it in person: he was the same one who saved you just now, and the same one in your head. I’m glad you’re safe. 

“No way,” you mumbled, eyes wide, baffled. Akira Kurusu: Shujin’s transfer student with a criminal record, the one with more rumors than you could count surrounding him, that was Joker? “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” It was hard trying to keep up with everything, and hold on a moment⁠— did he have a gun? 

“...You should go home,” Akira spoke after a moment. “We’ll talk later.” 

“Wait⁠—” You gripped the sleeve of his uniform as he began to leave, “there’s so much I need to talk to you about, and… I don’t want to travel home alone after what happened.” 

Akira stared at you, his glasses shielding his eyes from the world, yet after a minute, he offered you a kind smile. “Are you sure you’d like to walk home with me, after threatening to shoot someone? You’ll be fine, trust me.” 

You couldn’t stop him from slipping through your fingers, walking away with his hands shoved in his pockets, not bothering to look back. You stared, stunned, as he became lost in the sea of people, leaving you behind with questions and a heavy heart, but the determination to find out just what was going on with him now that you had a name and a face to associate with the voice inside your head. 

But first, you had to make sure you went home safely. 

[bigskydreaming]

“Richard - “

“God, would you stop calling me that? My name is Dick,” the teenager yelled. “Stop treating it like some deviant, perverse thing my parents should have known better than to call me, or like you can only take me seriously when I have a proper, civilized name!”

Bruce frowned, losing his train of thought. He didn’t think that, did he? Hurriedly, he cast his mind back over the more and more frequent fights of late, hunting for the pattern in question even as Dick continued.

“You said from the day I got here that you would always respect what I had with my parents, but then you turn around and do things like...like, I don’t know, try and steer me towards realizing that the name I came here with wasn’t good enough and I’m supposed to grow out of it or whatever. Sometimes it feels like you’re trying to rename me.”

“Dick, that was never my intention,” Bruce got out before finding himself uncharacteristically stalled. The argument had veered sharply into territory he hadn’t seen coming at all, and it left him fumbling in the dark for counterpoints he wasn’t entirely sure existed. But before he could find them and try to de-escalate, the boy deflated like a spent balloon. 

Dick shook his head and laughed, but it was a bitter thing; rolled up in weariness and dipped in vinegar. 

“I get that, B, I do. But when its never your intention to hurt me and I end up hurt anyway, who’s left to blame? Myself?”

“No, of course not. I’m not trying to say I’m not at fault, just that I’ve never meant to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want!”

“Then stop trying to make me be someone I’m not!”

“That’s not what I’m doing!”

“Yes it is!” Dick said furiously, his temper rising again as frustration visibly flared in both of them. “You’re trying to make me you! Or enough like you that you can keep pretending that we’re the same, since let’s face it, that’s the only reason I’m here in the first place!”

Bruce had to repress an actual flinch at that. He didn’t actually think - that wasn’t actually -

“Do you know when I first figured out that we’re more different than we are alike?” Dick asked abruptly. Bruce said nothing and just shook his head.

“It was when I was twelve. And I was getting in all those fights at school, you remember? From kids making fun of me, where I come from, all that stuff. And you sat me down and told me how important it was to let that stuff go, even though it sucked. And that you understood it wasn’t easy, because you’d faced similar stuff when you were a kid, from assholes trying to use your family tragedy and the public spectacle of it just to hurt you.”

“I remember,” Bruce said quietly, his brow furrowed.

“Except it wasn’t the same,” Dick continued, equally quiet now, like his most recent flareup had left him with only so much fuel in the tank but he still had a ways to go. “It wasn’t the same at all, and you just didn’t get that. Because see, as terrible as what happened to your parents was, as much as it sucks that kids used that to mock you....that’s still just something that happened to you. It doesn’t actually have anything to do with who you are, the fact that it happened doesn’t actually say anything about you. But the things they made fun of me for? They were all about who I am. Everything about me, my parents, my family and friends at the circus. My name, what I look like, all the things that I’m proud of, all the things that make me me.....they were making fun of my entire freaking existence. And you told me to just take it. Like you had. And that you understood what you were asking by telling me to do that. But you didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you say anything - “

“I tried! Don’t you remember? I did say something, its when we really started fighting in the first place, but I was twelve, Bruce. And you were, well....you. I didn’t have the words yet, I didn’t know how to put them into something that could make you see where the difference was because I didn’t totally know where it was yet myself! And the fact that I do now has nothing to do with me being more educated or something I learned at any of the schools you sent me to, its just from being....I’m not twelve anymore, Bruce. And I’m not you.”

“I know that,” Bruce said. He could be insistent on that front, if nothing else. Still Dick just shook his head again.

“Do you? Because you’re always talking about when I was younger, and how in sync we were then, how easily we understood each other. And its not that you’re wrong, like, its really not that things weren’t like that once and it wasn’t great, its just.”

Dick paused and took a deep breath before continuing.

“It feels like the less I become like you and the more I become what feels like me.....the more you wonder whether you should have taken me in at all.”

For all the quiet exhaustion behind that sentence, the weight of it still hammered into Bruce with all the fury of a Wonder Woman not bothering to hold anything back. It left Bruce breathless, gaping like the bumbling persona he played for the cameras, and for the first time he felt like he actually fit the part. 

“Dick....no.” He shook his head helplessly, trying to will the teenager’s gaze up from where it was locked in place, staring straight down at the floor. “How can you possibly think that?”

His Robin just smiled without humor, a grim thing with edges sharp enough to draw blood, and he said dully:

“Riddle me this, Batman. A boy comes to you with a name you don’t approve of, one his parents gave him but that isn’t good enough for you. He grows up, doesn’t want to go to college, because it offers nothing he wants out of life just like his parents never needed it to be happy and satisfied with what they did. But that isn’t good enough for you. He doesn’t have a preference when it comes to jobs he might take in the future, because he’s fine working pretty much anything to pay the bills. Its all the same to him as long as it just doesn’t get in the way of what he truly wants to do with his life, just like if he’d grown up with his parents, but that isn’t good enough for you.”

“You’re the one who taught me deductive reasoning, Bruce,” Dick concluded, finally looking up with that same empty, humorless, wrong smile. “Tell me. What conclusion should I draw from all of that, other than that the man I most likely would have become if my parents hadn’t died, the man I’d still choose to be as much as I’m ‘allowed’.....just isn’t good enough for you?”

....Shit.

“Right.” Dick nodded as if Bruce’s futile hunt for an increasingly elusive answer was all the answer he’d expected. “Well if you need me, I’ll be upstairs, doing homework for the physics class I take even though you taught me everything it covers when I was only thirteen. Not that either of us could ever admit that, of course. Secret identities for the win.”

With that, he walked off towards the stairs. Leaving Bruce in the dark of the cave, alone except for the chaos of his thoughts.

[hijackedacademia]

A Friendly Favor (Tenya Iida x Fem!Reader)

Characters: Reader (Fem), Uraraka, Jiro, Iida, Mina, Midoriya (briefly), Sero (briefly), Kaminari (briefly)

Request: No

Requested by: N/A

Warnings: none? If there are lemme know and I’ll tag them. Also I didn’t edit this.

Words: 2240

A/N: I wrote Iida w/ red eyes because that’s their color in the manga and I’m a sucker for red eyes. Also forgive me, this is my first time writing for him properly so he may be a little bit out of character?

——

Training had been rather rough on you today. Every muscle in your body ached, and your PE uniform was drenched in sweat (and possibly some tears) by the time you’d made it back to the girls locker room to peel it off. You toweled yourself off before throwing your uniform back on. A few of the other girls seemed just as exhausted as you were, while the others were just as chipper as ever.

This is what you got for slacking off to play video games. 

Again. 

Uraraka was the first to approach you, asking if you wanted to walk with her back to the dorms. She’d pushed back her hair with a plush, pink headband you were 98% sure had belonged to Aoyama at some point, and she was holding out a cooled water bottle that you just couldn’t say no to.

“Sure,” You said, taking the bottle. “Thanks.”

“No problem, (L/N)! You really look like you need it. Is everything okay?” Uraraka tilted her head a bit, her lips pulled back into a caring smile.

“Oh, yeah,” You started. “I’m fine, just feeling a bit behind it all. This is the last time I let Kaminari convince me to stay up till midnight to play Minecraft.”

“Oh did he rope you into helping him build that castle he was going on about?” She asked. 

“We played for three and a half hours and we’re still flattening the earth for it.” You grumbled.

“I told him to just use creative mode.” Jiro piped in, coming to stand beside you. “But that idiot wants to do it all the natural way.” Jiro mocked Kaminari, rolling her eyes all the while. You snorted.

“Tell me about it, when I mentioned going into creative mode I thought he’d had an aneurysm.” You took a long sip from the water. The three of you began to exit the locker room. “At this point I’m pretty sure I know more about the durability of a stone pickaxe than I know about the math Ectoplasm is trying to teach us.”

“Are you falling behind on your studies, (L/N)?” You all but jumped out of your skin, turning to face Iida with a flushed face.

Of course it was him who heard you. You smiled up at him.

“Not so much falling behind on studying, more not understanding the work.” You said. “I was never very good at math back in middle school, so the stuff we’re learning now is pretty difficult for me.” You rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes. Uraraka wiggles her eyebrows playfully at you from beside Iida, and you frown at her.

You regret telling her about your crush on the engine-quirked boy.

“Well if you should need any assistance with studying, I would be happy to help you. I plan on working on my math after we finish dinner.” He adjusted his glasses as he spoke, his crimson eyes never leaving your own.

Curse him and his need for eye contact.

“Speaking of dinner,” Jiro said. “Who’s cooking tonight?”

“Sero and Kirishima.” You said, turning away from Iida. “It was supposed to be Sero and Mina, but Kiri owed her a favor.”

“Why didn’t they inform everyone of this? The whole schedule we set up-” Iida started, but you calmly cut him off.

“Iida,” you sighed. “The schedule will be fine. Kiri will help cook this meal, and the next meal he’s assigned to. There’s nothing wrong with a friendly favor.” Before Iida could say something, Midoriya exited the boys locker room, a towel thrown over his shoulders. He smiled when he saw the small group.

“Hey, guys! Heading back to the dorms?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Uraraka confirmed. “Come on, guys! We should get going before Mr. Aizawa yells at us again.” She grabbed your wrist to tug you along, and you let her pull you in the direction of the dorms. Jiro, Midoriya, and Iida followed suit.

The only other people in the dorms when you got back were Mina, Kaminari, and Sero. Sero had set out getting everything together for dinner while he waited for Kirishima. When Mina saw you, Jiro, and Uraraka approaching she ran up, an excited look on her face.

“My parents delivered my Wii console! We can finally play Just Dance together! Whatddya say, wanna play tonight?” You were about to let out a whoop in excitement, when you saw Iida looking at you from his seat at the tables. He was already getting to work. He looked away rather quickly when he noticed your gaze turn in his direction.

“Actually, guys, I uh… I think I’m gonna take tonight to study.” Uraraka’s head snapped in your direction. The mischievous glint in her eyes surprised you momentarily.

“Oooo, you taking Iida up on his offer?” She teased you. Mina squealed, drawing in others' attention. You smacked her arm, but she seemed undeterred.

“Iida,” She said in a harsh whisper. “So is it like, a date-”

“We’re just going to be studying-”

“A study date, then?” Mina seemed more excited about the prospect than you did. You’d been looking for a reason to spend more time with Iida alone, but he always seemed to be busy with school work, or was always around Midoriya and Uraraka.

“No.” You say. “Just two friends studying math.”

“Sure.” Mina continued to tease. You really wished she wouldn’t do this while he was right there, but Iida either didn’t hear what was happening or he wasn’t paying you guys much attention because his eyes were trained on his work. You ignore your friends and go to approach him.

He looked up when you reached the table.

“Hey,” You said.

“Hello, (L/N). How can I help you?”

“So were you… serious, about that offer? To help me with the math?” You wanted to slap yourself. Of course he was serious. When was Iida not serious about something?

“I was,” He nodded. “Like I said, I should be getting to my math after we eat.”

“Awesome.” You nodded. “Thanks again, Iida.” He nodded back before returning to his work. You went up to your room to throw on more comfortable clothes, using a couple of wipes to clean up the oil on your forehead and cheeks. You had been laying on your bed scrolling through the various apps on your phone for around an hour when Tsu came to get you for dinner.

Part of you wanted to shovel down the food - the faster you ate, the faster you could study.

But the other part of you wanted nothing more than to never finish dinner so that you couldn’t possibly embarrass yourself in front of Iida. It was bound to happen, you were sure of it. You would say something stupid with such confidence and then Iida would know just how dumb you really were.

But it smelled so good, and the way your stomach rumbled - surely you couldn’t say anything that stupid.

Right?

Uraraka gave you a quizzical look.

“Are you gonna eat it or are you just gonna drool over it?” She asked. Snapping from your thoughts, on instinct, you wiped at your mouth - she was right. You had been drooling. How embarrassing, you seethed. “Everything alright, (L/N)?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah I’m fine. Just thinking.” Without a second thought you began to stuff your face.

When class 1-A first moved into the dorms, a good chunk of the class sucked at cooking. It was typically Bakugo, Uraraka, or Sato who cooked meals.

That was, until the hot headed gremlin decided enough was enough and there needed to be some kind of proper schedule and some kind of lesson.

“I’m not gonna be cooking for you damned bastards for the rest of school.” He’d said. “Either you learn to cook or you starve.”

The only people who couldn’t be trusted in the kitchen were Mineta, Higakure, and Aoyama.

Those three could burn water without turning the stove on.

Kirishima had become one of the better cooks - so having been paired with Sero, who himself was fairly decent, the meal was amazing. Maybe not Lunch Rush amazing, but enough to make you want seconds.

By the time you’d finish your plate, most of the girls and a handful of the guys had scattered, finished with their meals and prepared to unwind or get to work. You took your plate to the kitchen and then went to your room to wash up. You retrieved your homework, notes, and textbook, and after wiping the sweat off your palms, went to go find Iida.

He sat at one of the tables in the common room alone, surprisingly. Usually after a meal Midoriya and Uraraka would sit with him for a bit before going their separate ways. But not tonight. 

Were they both joining in on Mina’s game? Or had you just taken that long to get ready?

“Uh, hey, Iida.” He looked up from his work and gave you a kind smile.

“Ah, (L/N), are you ready to work?” He asked. You nodded quickly and moved to put your stuff down across from him. “Perhaps you should come sit over here. It would make it much easier to show you what to do.”

“Oh. Um, okay.” Your fingers gripped your wares tightly as you came around to sit beside Iida. He had his text book open to the pages you guys had been assigned earlier that day - his paper was already filled with notes. “Well, uh, where do we start?” 

Listening to Iida go on about math was much easier than listening to Ectoplasm, in your opinion. Maybe it was the fact that you could listen to Iida talk about anything - he could read you the ingredients off of a candy bar wrapper and you would be entranced.

Or maybe it was because what he was saying actually made sense.

“Mr. Ectoplasm tends to explain things in a lot less detail than he should.” Iida admitted. “But I used to sit with my brother when he did his math homework, so it’s pretty easy for me to figure out.”

“How is he, by the way?” The thought of Iida’s brother had been itching in the back of your mind. Ever since he got hurt you’d never seen Iida more determined. You worried sometimes. When you saw a sad look in Iida’s eyes, a part of you regretted asking. His gaze bore holes into the textbook, but he smiled.

“He is healing. Slowly, but surely.” That was all Iida had to say on the matter. Before you could say anything else about it, he was back to explaining the equation you were working on before.

The two of you worked for an hour and a half, and by the time you’d gotten to the last equation you felt proud of yourself. Usually math took you a lot longer. Sometimes you didn’t bother doing them at all (not that you’d ever tell Iida this).

“How are you feeling? Did you understand everything we went over?” Iida asked, setting aside his pencil.

“I think so.” You smiled. “I definitely understand more than I did this morning.”

“Well, I’m glad.” Iida removed his glasses, and cleaned them with a small cloth that he’d kept folded beside his text book. “I’m about to start on English, if you should need assistance with that as well.”

“No,” you smiled. “I’m actually fairly good in English.” You closed your textbook, piling the homework and notes you’d taken on top along with your pencil and pen. “Thanks again for helping me Iida, I owe you one.” You said as you stood up from the table, a couple of joints popping in the process.

“Like a friendly favor?” The question surprised you, but after the initial shock washed away you smiled.

“Yeah.” You said. “A friendly favor.” You picked up your things, ready to depart. 

After a moment's thought and a short rush of confidence, you found yourself giving the class rep a short hug, your free arm wrapped around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. He tensed up for a moment, but instead of pushing you away like you imagined he would, he placed a hand on your arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks again, Iida.” You pulled your arm away and all but skipped out of the common area. When you made it back upstairs to your dorm room, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. After setting your homework back into your bag, you went to read the text.

It was from Iida. You frowned.

Had you forgotten something downstairs?

Unlocking your phone, you open the text.

T. Iida: So

T. Iida: About that favor.

(Y/N): Yeah?

T. Iida: Perhaps you might be willing to join me this Sunday to the nearby café? I was going to go with Midoriya and Uraraka but they are now busy and I would prefer not to go alone.

You flushed a bit. Iida was asking you to go with him to his favorite café (you’d heard him mention how much he loved the place before - the best lattes he’d ever had, if you remembered correctly) with him. Alone.

Just you and Iida.

(Y/N): Count me in. Id love to join you!

T. Iida: Perfect. It’s a date then.

A date.

This boy was going to be the end of you.

[nad-zeta]

Match up ♥

Hiya, hon! ♥ I love your match-ups and honestly, I’ve been meaning to request one for a loooong time, but I haven’t had the chance to do so till now cause I’ve been drowning in lots and lots of homework TwT

I’m female, 25 years old, dark chocolate, shoulder-length hair, brown eyes. I’m a small potato 157 cm (5'1 ft) and I’m curvy.

I’m a Gemini, INFP-A. I love and need my alone time, though I enjoy spending time with my friends and loved ones. I use my free time to write fics, read books (Though I haven’t read a book out of sheer pleasure in a long while thanks to college lol,) draw my stickemen and play League of Legends.

Being surrounded by too many people is draining af and it can quickly become overwhelming tbh. I prefer to be surrounded by a couple of calm people and be my yahoo self with them. Even though I’m a mature person, I can be very childish and stubborn at times. I’m the Mom Friend™, a worrywart cause I care, I have a strong personality.  I’m caring, kind, friendly, funny, assertive, strong-willed. I’m usually the one people goes to when they need a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. I will stand for my friends without giving it a second thought. I definitely won’t tell you what you want to hear, but what you need to hear. And due to the way I express myself, people who don’t know me at all tend to find me intimidating which is kinda funny! 😂

When I’m with my friends, I try to come up with jokes or puns to make them laugh. I don’t take myself too seriously…I laugh at my own dumb-ass 😂😂 cause it’s okay to make mistakes, nobody’s perfect after all. And this is probably why it pisses me off when people make fun of my friends. Binch, fite me! So I just go and stand for them as politely and civilized as I possibly can. I’m usually talkative but every once in a while I just feel like isolating for a bit and be there exclusively for myself.

Hmm… I’m corny af and a hopeless romantic, I’m weak for smooth flirts and I like being teased cause I LOVE teasing back. I have a sweet tooth, I love tea. I love eating…in general.

I’m afraid I’m rambling at this point so Imma stop it here 😂

Thank you so much for doing these awesome match ups! ♥ ♥ ♥

Hi, there love! Thanx so much for the kind words, and can I just say I absolutely love your writing!  ♥ ♥ ♥ Hehehe also I feel you with the school work! I hope you enjoy it love, and I hope you have a good day! @venulus

So I match you with………………………. Hideyoshi

So for me honestly it was between Hideyoshi and Mitsunari lol

Classic Hideyoshi did not trust you one bit. The moment you arrived, he saw you as a threat to his lord and was watching you like a hawk. You were quiet, stubborn and assertive and to him, that meant just one thing…. SPY. 

You worked super hard and quickly started adapted to the castle life. Everyone that has worked with you absolutely adored you. Although Hideyoshi was still not buying it. He legit thought that sweet kind friendliness was all an act, to get the people around you to trust you. You kept mostly to yourself in any case, as you found loud people to be overbearing and exhausting, and unfortunately for you that would be most of the castle residents. Although in saying that you had started to form some good friendships among the Oda forces.

One day Nobunaga announced that they were going to war and that you and Mitsunari were to stay behind and guard the castle. You were super happy about that- well not happy that your new friends could die, but happy to get some alone time and not have Hideyoshi continually looking over your shoulder. Plus Mitsunari was one of your close friends so you were super happy he was staying behind with you! 

You honestly never realized just how bad Mitsunari’s habits were until he passed out in front of you one day, while informing you of the state of the war. You knew the warlords cared for him, but you never realized to what extent. Your mama bear instincts instantly kicked in. You semi moved into Hideyoshi manor while he was away, so that it would be easier for you to take care of the resident angel. You made sure he was well-fed, room was clean and he got a decent amount of sleep. Hell, you even helped him work out an eating, training and sleeping schedule which you stuck on his wall to remind him to eat and sleep. After a while Mitsunari fell into a good routine with the schedule and was now almost capable of caring for himself

Mitsunari had one day informed you that the Oda forces had won the war and were now on their way back. The two of you cuties excitingly waited at the gate for your friends to return only for your faces to go from joyful to concerned in 0,2 seconds flat. Hideyoshi was passed out and heavily bandaged. Seem like the idiot went a bit over the top with protecting Nobunaga.

That night as you and Mitsunari gave your reports regarding the castle affairs in his absence, Nobunaga couldn’t help but noticed how healthy and good Mitsunari looked. You told him that you helped him organize his time and made sure that he all the basics were taken care of, i.e. sleeping, training and eating. Nobunaga thought for a moment and then broke out into the biggest grin “I commend you for your work with the castle and Mitusnari fireball, and I now assign you to care for my right-hand man”. You had no complaints, even though Hideyoshi hated you, the inner mom friend in you could never refuse someone in need of assistance.

You moved into Hideyoshi’s manor full time now. While you were there, you cared for both men. You changed Hide’s dressing, cleaned his wounds and made sure that he got plenty of food. Most nights, you would actually sleep in Hideyoshi’s room, caring for his high fevers and low key doing some of the easy paperwork just so that the man wouldn’t be overloaded with work when he was healed. Hideyoshi would shift in and out of consciousness, and boy was he confused to see you sleeping at his writing desk one night. Sometimes when he opened his eyes, he would see you place a cool soothing cloth on his head, other times he would listen to you talk about anything and everything. He would smile a little thinking that your presence in his room was a fever-induced dream.

After a week, his fever finally broke, and the wounds were now slowly, starting to close up and heal. He woke up that morning to you passed out at his writing desk. He had to do a double-take. He thought you caring for him had all been a big dream. He watched your beautiful sleeping face for a moment or two, draped his blankie over your shoulders and went to Nobunaga to receive work. His mind couldn’t help but wander back to you sleeping in his room, how many nights had he woken up to see you there by his side, and then the thoughts got dark, how many time had he accused you of being a spy of calling your kindness an act. HE felt his stomach drop, he honestly needed to make it up to you. But first he needed to check in with Nobunaga.

Nobunaga basically chased him away, saying he would only receive work once you reported that he was completely healthy and ready to come back to work. He walked back to his manor deflated, only to be met with you at the front door “where have you been young man, last time I check you just barely escaped death and are in no state to be walking about”. Hideyshi’s eyes widened he had never been scolded before. You stood there hands on your hips with the biggest frown, eyes filled with worry and concern. It made Hideyoshi’s heart melt that even though he had treated you like an enemy you still cared for him and spent countless days and nights by his side. You led him back to his futon and tucked him in. You brought him lunch and filled him in on everything that had happened since his been unconscious. 

TBH as the days went by Hideyoshi was falling more and more in love with you, he could kick himself for treating you so horribly. And spending countless days with you, gently and sweetly caring for him, makes him realizes more and more what a gigantic fool he was. Yes, you were stubborn and assertive, but you were also the kindest, sweetest, gentlest, friendliest girl in the whole world. 

He made a vow to himself, to make it up to you once he was all better. It took two months, but finally, this boy was back to his full health and absolutely smitten with you and you with him. 

You had come to realize during your time with him what a naturally flirty charmer he truly was, and the mountain of letters he received from women no longer surprised you. Honestly his smooth flirting even had your knees going weak. You had come to enjoy the light teasing and banter the two of you engaged in as you cared for him. He loved that you weren’t afraid to give him the hard solid facts and be a friendly shoulder for him to cry on, especially during times when he felt so weak and worthless for being injured and unable to serve his lord. You would tell him what he needed to hear, not what he wanted to hear. 

The time had finally come that you had to move out of his manor and back into the palace, and TBH Hideyoshi was actually a little sad. He was definitely going to miss your vibrant energy, and hours and hours spent together, talking each other’s ears off. 

Now that he was healed it was time to make up for the ill way he treated you in the past, and low key thank you for taking such good care of him. He would take you out for tea every moment he could get. He knew you had a sweet tooth like Nobunaga, so he would ensure that there was always something delicious to eat at the little tea date the two of you went on. You of course never complained cause the three things you loved most in the world would be right infornt of you, tea, sweet and Hideyoshi. 

You discovered that Hideyoshi actually had a hilarious sense of humour. The two of you would laugh and tease each other all throughout the dates. Ooh boy, did he love your puns and honestly you couldn’t help but laugh at his hilariously unfunny dad jokes.

Hideyoshi is very much like you, a hopeless romantic, so during his free time, he is always planning some or other fun activity for the two of you to do. Whether it’s holding your hand as the two of you, stroll on the beach or taking you up a mountain to watch the sunset together. He has always got something cute up his sleeve 

Your favourite moment was one day when the two of you were out for tea, the sky started getting dark. The two of you were having such a good time you didn’t even notice it was about to rain. As the two of you were walking back to the castle the cloud burst and the light drizzle turned into a full-blown downpour. Even though you were super mature, you did have your childish moments. You looked up at Hideyoshi with the biggest grin on your face and started dancing in the rain, while he took cover at a nearby shop. With outstretched arms, you started twirling in the rain and splashing in the puddle “Hey you’re going to catch a cold”, at that you simply took Hideyoshi’s hand in yours and dragged him into the rain to dance with you. He shook his head at you, but couldn’t help but dance along with you. 

You stared up into his amber eyes, and this was when Hideyoshi decided to make his feeling for you known. He cupped your wet cheeks in his warm hands and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. 

After he pulled away and saw your sunshine smile, he picked you up and twired you around in the rain. He was so happy. The two of you played in the rain together without a care in the world until sunset.

Hideyoshi staying true to his doting self, of course, ran the two of you a warm bubble bath to fight off the chill from spending the afternoon in the rain. He pampered you from the moment you walked into his manor door. After your relaxing bath, he dried your hair and gave you a foot massage followed by a cheesy candlelit dinner for the two of you. He had been waiting so long to confess his feeling for you that he couldn’t help but want to pamper the shit out of his love

This man definitely respected your alone time and knew that everyone needed some time to themselves every now and then. 

He loved it when you worked in his room and kept him company as he worked. Hideyoshi is definitely the type to drop a few kisses on your forehead, cheek and lips whenever the two of you bump into each other in the hallway. 

He loves to spoil you any chance he can get. The two of you honestly turn into the castle mom and dad caring for everyone in the castle. Often the two of you cuties can be found nestled in each other’s arms or sharing sweets at your favourite tea house.

Other potential matches……… Mitsunari 

 I hope you liked it, dear! <3<3

[joonie-beanie]

Welcome To The Wild Side [18]

<-- [17] |

Genre: Superpowers + College AU

Rated: T

Words: 2,153

A/N: Oh hi

Following your Friday night talk with Jungkook, and the comfort session thanks to the guys, you all decide that the best thing to do is try and resume life like normal. For all you know, the man who had brainwashed you had just wanted to give them a little taste of their own medicine for landing his friend in jail. There was no guarantee he would show up and cause more havoc. Worrying about it and acting any differently would only continue to leave the group on edge, so they had decided to live as if nothing was different.

Of course, they couldn’t just forget about what had happened, but they tried not to actively dwell on it.

Soon enough, another week had passed. Everything was normal. You woke up, went to class, went to work, did homework, and slept. Sometimes you’d get texts from the guys—just casual conversation starters—which helped brighten your days. Once again, Taehyung had invited you to lunch, and this time you’d accepted. A whole 7 days went past without an incident, which was…almost suspicious, but you didn’t want to overthink it.

Monday rolled around yet again. Like normal, you went to your lectures—the day feeling quite long—and had just gotten home when—

A bird screeches loudly overhead, startling you. You jump in surprise, the keys in your hand falling to the floor at your feet and your apartment door remaining locked.

“Jesus,” you breathe, turning to look at the bird that is circling overhead. It caws a few more times before suddenly dive bombing towards you. Your eyes squeeze shut, arms moving to brace in front of your head since you assume the bird is coming in for the kill, but after a few seconds nothing happens. There’s no bird pecking at your arms, but rather a pair of human hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

Again, you startle. Your eyes fly open, head whipping to look at whoever it is touching you. Whoever it is had basically popped in out of thin air, because no one had been around when you’d—

Messy brown hair and a handsome face stare back at you. Kim Taehyung.

Now it makes sense.

“Y/N!” he says, breathing hard. He looks exhausted, like he’d used all his energy to get over to you. Worried, your brows furrow, and you turn to face him.

“Taehyung, are you okay? What’s up?”

“Are you busy?” he asks instead, a pleading look in his eye. You blink.

“I mean…no, I’m done with classes and I don’t have work, so…why? What’s going on?”

Sighing, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. “I’m an idiot. If you have time will you come and model for me?”

For a second, you wonder if you’ve heard him correctly.

“Model?” you echo, your ears turning red at the idea. Taehyung nods, hurrying to explain.

“I have an art class I’m taking, and every week a new person is in charge of bringing an object or person to model for the first hour of the class. I walked into class and someone asked if I had something. Obviously I didn’t considering I’m here. The TA said if I brought a cute girl to model he would forgive me, so PLEASE.”

He grabs your hands in his tightly, looking up at you with the best puppy eyes he can muster. Your lips are parted in shock, face feeling warm at the fact that he had decided to ask you when his TA had demanded a cute girl.

“I mean…yeah, of course I’ll help you if I’m good enough,” you respond after a moment, and Taehyung blinks dumbly, straightening himself out.

“What do you mean? You don’t think you’re cute?”

You pout a little, feeling a bit shy. “I mean…it’s not like I’m not cute, but…”

“You’re adorable,” he says sternly, his large hands lifting to squish your cheeks. Taehyung smiles cheekily at you, and then grabs your hand, tugging you towards the stairs. “C’mon. The building isn’t too far.”

Together, the two of you hurriedly make your way back into main campus. True to his word, the building is only about a 10 minute trek from your apartment. When you enter the classroom, both you and Taehyung are breathing a bit hard, and everyone turns to look at you.

Sat at the head of the room, the TA looks to Taehyung, and then stands from his seat. He takes a few steps towards you both before he pauses. His eyes roam over you from the top of your head all the way down. Embarrassment floods your chest, and beside you Taehyung’s eyes narrow a little at the other male. Finally, the TA lifts a hand and places it on Taehyung shoulder.

“You did well,” he says quietly, looking more than pleased. With that taken care of, he turns back to face you, a wide smile on his face.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you respond, eyes widening when he lightly places a hand on your back and leads you to the middle of the room. There’s a stool there, with all of the students and their sketch pads scattered around it.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She’ll be modeling for us today thanks to Taehyung. Is there anything you want to say?” he asks you, leaning over to glance at your face. You press your lips together, still feeling a little unsure of the situation. However, when you glance up and see Taehyung flashing you two-thumbs up and an encouraging smile, you feel a little better.

“Um, well, I’ve never done this before, so if there’s anything you want me to do—just ask,” you say with honesty, and the class laughs a little, understanding where you’re coming from. “I’ll try my best.”

“Thanks for your help,” the class echoes, getting their pencils ready, and the TA quietly instructs you to sit in the chair.

“Does anyone have a certain pose they want to ask Y/N for? I know it’s been a while since we’ve had a human model.”

From the back of the classroom, a shy looking girl raises her hand. All eyes turn to her, and it becomes impossible for her to look only at one spot—her eyes darting around the room.

“Um…I’m sorry if this is selfish but…I’ve really been wanting to work on the way a person’s back looks…with the spine and shoulder blades. Muscles, really…so um…if it’s not too much to ask,” she says quietly, her innocent gaze landing on you finally. It’s clear that she’s embarrassed to be asking, and you yourself feel embarrassed at her request but…

“Sure!” you say, and from a little ways away Taehyung almost faints. He had been preparing himself to get up and defend you—because he hadn’t invited you expecting you to be asked to show so much skin, but god. You’d actually agreed.

“I don’t know how that’s gonna work with, well…,” you struggle to explain, looking down at yourself. You’ve got a tank top on under your jacket, but that won’t show the amount of skin the girl wants for her pose.

“Oh! Um, here,” she says, standing from her seat and rushing to grab a blanket that’s been stored in a closet at the back of the room. She approaches you and hands it over, her face still red. You know she has no ill intent in asking you to do this, but her embarrassment over it is still making you feel hot as well.

“Thanks,” you respond, and from the side Taehyung rushes up to hold the blanket. You share a look with each other, understanding his intent, and move to undress yourself. Taehyung glances away, cheeks red, and glares at some of the other guys in the class when they send him teasing looks.

After a few seconds you tell him it’s fine, and he hands you the blanket. Carefully, you position the blanket so it’s wrapped around your front but low in the back—the TA stepping up to help you secure a good pose.

Finally, it seems like everyone is ready to begin. Careful to be still, you opt to look out the window nearby into the dark overlook of the campus. You attempt to distract yourself by thinking about homework, and work, and whatever else, and for the most part it works. However, once half an hour has gone by, the TA says it’s time to choose a new pose. As you pull your tank top back on, the guy sitting next to Taehyung speaks up.

“I mean, we haven’t had a nude—”

Taehyung promptly kicks him in the shin, and the class erupts into giggles. You, as well, find yourself laughing.

Once the laughter has died down, a different male speaks up.

“I’d be interested in a couples pose. After all, we’ve only had one model up until now.”

“That’s true. Taehyung, come up here,” the TA calls, motioning to you. Taehyung face goes red, but he nonetheless sets his things down and makes his way to where you’re sitting.

“You’d be more comfortable together since you know each other I’m sure,” the TA says, pulling a second stool over. Nodding, Taehyung seats himself beside you, and the TA carefully positions you both so your head is resting on Taehyung’s shoulder—Taehyung hand lightly draped over your thigh.

“You can draw them from the front or back, up to you,” mister TA speaks one last time, and a few people adjust their positions. For the next half hour, you and Taehyung sit side by side. Every so often you joke to each other quietly, but none of the students seem to mind the change in your facial features, or if Taehyung’s hand moves to squeeze your thigh.

Time goes by quickly, and finally the 1-hour modeling period is over. The class thanks you again, and Taehyung gives you a quick hug after escorting you to the door. He says he’ll text you later, and you leave with a smile. On your walk home, you still can’t help but feel embarrassed about what had just happened, but it was fun too.

Finally, you make it to your apartment and unlock the door. A nice hot shower awaits you, followed by food, and homework. It’s nearly 10pm when your phone buzzes beside you.

Curious, you pick it up—noting that Taehyung had sent a photo to the group chat.

[Tae] Sent a Photo to “That One Girl and the 7 Dorks”

[Tae]: Thanks for your help tonight!!

You swipe on the notification and the group chat pops open in front of you. What you see immediately has your face going red. However, before you can even think of how to respond, Taehyung is hurriedly chiming in.

[Tae]: Uh, sorry guys!! Wrong chat!!

[Agust D]: Who the hell are you trying to send a sketch of a topless girl to?

[Chim Chim]: Wow Tae, did something good happen in your art class tonight? Lol

[RM]: Gotta say, that’s a pretty good sketch tho! I like the way you shaded around the spine and shoulder blades.

[Tae]: haha thanks ;;

[HOBI]: ok but seriously, who were you trying to send that to??? How the hell did you end up sending it to us instead keke

There’s a brief pause, and you can only guess that Taehyung is both embarrassed and afraid of telling them the truth. Then all of the sudden Jin chimes in.

[Jin]: …are y’all dumb?

[Jeon Seagull]: wym?

[Jin]: who would look like the drawing and also apparently be in this group chat since taehyung managed to send it here instead of just the individual?

[Agust D]: …you’re fucking shitting me

[HOBI]: …she’s been reading all the messages but not responding ajlskdhajskd

[A Literal Angel]: ………hi

[Jeon Seagull]: wait

[Chim Chim]: DID YOU REALLY POSE TOPLESS FOR TAEHYUNG’S ART CLASS

[Tae]: SHE WASN’T TOPLESS

[RM]: IDK ABOUT YOU BUT I’m LOOKING A DRAWING OF A FEMALE’S BARE BACK

[A Literal Angel]: I was holding a blanket!! A girl in the class requested that I pose with my back open so she could get practice!!

[Jin]: Oh, so it wasn’t Tae that made you do it?

[Tae]: please don’t fucking kill me I’m a good boy I promise

[Agust D]: hey y/n if you’re getting naked for the sake of art feel free to come to the music studio again

[HOBI]: LMAOOOOO

[Jeon Seagull]: hyung I s2fg

[Chim Chim]: bunch of horny bastards in here

[Chim Chim] saved a photo

[Tae]: LIKE YOU’RE ONE TO TALK

[Agust D] saved a photo

[RM] saved a photo

[Jeon Seagull] saved a photo

[Jin]: why is our group such a shit show

[HOBI] saved a photo

[Jin] saved a photo

[A Literal Angel]: you guys a so fucking dumb lmao

[A Literal Angel]: I love you

[A Literal Angel] saved a photo

[jimlingss]

BOO-lieve in Me [1/2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 [Finale]

➜ Words: 15k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Spirit Marriage!AU

➜ Summary: A Spirit Marriage - in which two deceased people are wedded together. In your life, you wouldn’t have ever imagined yourself married. Much less to mommy’s boy, Min Yoongi.

➜ Warnings: ghosts, discussion of death, swearing.

➜ Notes: istg the titles for my fics are getting shittier and shittier. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this small series! and happy birthday to the one and only Min Yoongi!!

You’d rather die than be here.

“During the late eighteenth century, there were many trade issues with tea as European control over trade with China was very limited. On page two-hundred sixty of your textbook, it says that the merchants were under the direction of local officials who made all decisions of the selling process, leaving little for negotiation….”   The teacher drones and on and on. Sitting here at the very back of the class with your legs comfortably popped up on the desk, you feel like slamming your head against the wall. But even if you did that — no one would notice. Luckily enough, you’re not the only one bored out of your mind. There are students passing each other notes, giggling and spewing spitballs at one another. It’s terribly childish and juvenile, so with a roll of your eyes, you keep your vision trained forward to the person you’re sitting behind, burning holes into the back of Jungkook’s head.   Jungkook’s a little shit. He’s fairly popular amongst his peers for his good looks and personality, and he knows it too. He likes to talk back. He’s a brat. He’s competitive and rambunctious too. But you beneath it all, he’s a good kid — getting good grades, friendly to those he meets, athletic and talented in drawing. But lately, he’s been quieter. Reclusive even. Jungkook has become timid and he’s been distant to his friends. It’s obvious that he’s having a hard time.   “Do you want to go to the movies after school? They’re playing a new movie!”   “The one with Won Bin?”   “Yeah! It starts at five. It got good reviews too and apparently he has a shower scene.”   The two girls are giggling together, snickering underneath their breaths. And when a spitball flies past from a guy sitting across from you, your brain nearly blows a gasket. You glare into the back of their heads, mouth drawing open to say something, but you don’t need to.   The teacher at the front of the room turns on his toes. “Who’s talking?!”   Silence ripples throughout the room. The girls turn right back around and the boys hide their straws in the laps, all looking down at their open textbooks simultaneously. Only those who have their head rested on their desks, drooling on the wooden surface as they sleep, are caught for not paying attention. Fortunately for all of them before the teacher can yell again, the bell rings.   It chimes throughout the entire building and the students get up, dismissed from the day much to the teacher’s dismay. “Make sure to finish all of your assigned homework!” he screams and gives up, packing his own things to leave.   Unlike the others, you’re in no rush, instead turning to look out the window. There are students already running out the school gate, laughing with their friends, racing home, or strolling to their after-school activities.   Jungkook is slow, languidly packing up his belongings, picking up his bag, putting on his jacket.   As you redirect your gaze towards him, he ignores you. The boy is a ghost, caught in a trance and only brought back to the ground when someone pops their head through the door and shouts his name. “Jungkook! Are you coming with us? We’re heading down to the—”   “No, I’m fine.” He throws his bags over his shoulder and walks out the door while Jaehyun is left helpless, unable to persuade him. “I have some things to do at home. Maybe another time.”   What an idiot.   You finally get up from your own seat, hands dug in your pockets, following him out.   Jungkook walks alone, each of his steps dragged down by a weight on his shoulders that you cannot see. His head is downcasted, arms by his side and as you shadow his strides at a distance, he doesn’t notice the girl who comes from the opposite direction. Her shoulder collides with his as she speed walks and at the exact same time as she spews out an apology, he mumbles his own.   “Oh.” The female stops and turns herself back, nearly whipping him in the face with her high ponytail. “You’re Jungkook, aren’t you?”   “Umm...do I know you?”   “At the beginning of the semester, I gave you a pack of ramen.”   “You….did?”   “Yeah. I was promoting the gardening club. The ramen had an advertisement stapled to it,” she reminds him in exasperation and you approach close enough to read the nametag on her uniform — Yeeun. She’s definitely an interesting character, you muse. Very loud and bubbly, having no sense of boundaries as she invades in his personal space. This is the most you’ve seen Jungkook talk recently and it’s quite funny to watch him so taken back. “You even signed up to receive information. I remember because you gave me a FAKE email!”   “Oh…” Jungkook ducks his head, finding her overwhelming. “Sorry. I must’ve made a mistake…”   “Yeah, sure. Listen, I’ll forgive you if you join the gardening club. We actually need more help—”   “I’m good.”   “If you weren’t interested in it in the first place, then you shouldn't have taken the ramen and given me a fake email! I could’ve given that to someone else instead. I know gardening seems lame but it’s actually a lot of fun and it doesn’t take that long to learn—…..are you walking away from me?!”   “I have some place to be.” Jungkook is backing away with his palms up. “Sorry, not interested.”   Yeeun’s mouth draws open, baffled. You laugh, snickering openly and when you brush past her, you catch her muttering about his rudeness and how she feels like a salesman going door to door.   You continue following Jungkook, but not without musing that the girl seemed cute. Jungkook could’ve totally made a move or at least got a new friend, but he blew it like a total dork that he is. Though the image of him kneeling in dirt as he tends to tomatoes is all too humorous.   Your feet trail after him at a distance, steps matching his. Your eyes watch his backside, too curious for your own good. He goes down three blocks, deeper into the suburban area, turning a left then a right. But as you tail him, you’re suddenly disrupted by an urgent bark.   Head drooping to the ground, you find a brown poodle dog yapping at you, having leaped out from the alleyway. “Go away.”   You walk over the stray, but it follows, throwing itself in front of you once more.   “I said go away!”   At your shout, the dog remains undeterred. His tail is still wagging, tongue out as he pants. The more you pay attention to him, the more he reacts. You look up quickly, finding that you’ve lost sight of Jungkook. Damn. With no other choice and a sigh of frustration, you pick up the damn dog into your arms.   “What do you want from me? Where’s your owner, huh?” You look at the dog’s small blue collar, catching the name tag. “You’re Holly?”   The poodle barks and a tiny smile sneaks on your lips before you repress it and set him down. “Go away. Leave me alone,” you tell the stray. “I’m not in any condition to take care of you, alright? And I don’t want to!”   He follows you, stubby legs teetering from side to side to match up with your wide strides. A discontented inhale is stolen through the seams of your lips and you swivel around on your toes. “Stay!”   Holly yelps at your command, but ultimately obeys. He stays in one spot, watching you march off.   Your speed picks up and you follow Jungkook’s direction. That is until the road splits off into four and you don’t know where he’s gone. There are people coming from all directions, kids walking home from school, mothers pushing their strollers, elders holding their groceries from the store nearby. You’re lost.   After a moment of watching, you sigh and give up.   The sun begins to fall as the evening hour arrives. It becomes dark out within minutes, black rippling through the city slowly and engulfing the sky into nightfall. You wait at a bus station, sitting underneath the glass shelter on a bench, examining the way the wheels roll on the road. You watch the way the buses stop, how steam puffs out of their engine, how the creaking doors open and people get on and off, students and workers alike.   Sitting in a single spot, you listen to the sounds of the city, the white noise, the distant cars in the back, the bustle of synchronized steps and conversations. You observe the people out and about, catching taxis and cabs or entering the cozy restaurant from across the street, those that shuffle away from the coldness, arguing with loved ones on the phone. You watch how alive they are.   But finally, after hours of waiting, the bus you were expecting stops in front of you. You stand up and after three or so people hop off, you find the older lady bumbling onto the road again. She doesn’t look at you.   The aged woman has wrinkles around her eyes, her steps slow, fatigue permanently etched in her muscles. She exhales every so often and you follow after her as she drags her feet from the exhausted day. Your eyes trace her slumped shoulders and thin legs, watching her backside and chasing her shadow. You stroll behind her like some sort of child lost on her way or much like Holly, a stray dog desperate for attention.   The woman turns down the dark street, opening the gate to her house and you catch up behind her as her keys rattle and she opens the door. You slip inside behind her before it shuts.   The entire house is consumed in darkness, but the television is on, screen casting a blinding glow around the room, walls bathed in the static. The woman turns on the lights and the boy laying on the couch, watching mindlessly, doesn’t even blink.   “Have you eaten yet?”   He ignores her. She moves to the kitchen, sighing again and you follow.   “Mom,” you call out, but she ignores you. “Mom…..”   Your mom scoops up a bowl of rice from the cooker. But she doesn’t eat it even if her stomach is growling. Instead, she sets it on the table by the front door, right beside your picture frame.   “You must’ve been hungry, huh?” A sad smile graces her lips as she speaks to you. “I’m sorry for working all day. I hope you weren’t lonely. Things haven’t been too bad around here—”   The boy on the couch gets up, sitting straight. His hair is a mess, eyes weary, and he turns his head. “Can you not talk to her like that? It’s creepy. And stop giving her food. I have to throw it away after. It’s annoying.”   “Jungkook….”   He gets onto his feet, footsteps padding down the hall before the door slams shut. The walls rattle on impact, hinges squeaking and she winces.   You scoff. “What a brat.”   But your mom is less angry. She merely sighs, returning to the kitchen to get her food, only to end up sitting alone at the dinner table without knowing that you’re right beside her. And she barely eats, putting less than a spoonful in her mouth before he cries into her bowl. The woman sobs quietly to not disturb her son.   It’s heart wrenching and you can’t bear it for a full minute. You peel yourself off the chair, going down the hall into Jungkook’s room. Passing through the door, you find him laying in bed, facing the wall. “You’re a brat, you know that?! Mom’s crying because of you! You’re such an ass!”   “You think just cause I’m not here anymore means you get to disrespect mom?! Yeah right. Not on my watch, punk!”   Jungkook doesn’t hear you of course, but it still feels good to get it off your chest….until something catches in your ear. It’s the quietest of whimpers, muffled and only when you see Jungkook’s shoulders begin to tremble do you realize he’s crying too.   He digs his face into his pillow, pulling his covers up over his head and you fall to the floor, leaning back at the foot of his bed.   It really sucks to be dead.   //   Yoongi would agree with your sentiment — if he knew you.   It sucked to be a wandering ghost, but even then it’s an understatement. He doesn’t get to haunt people and scare them or go around like Casper the Ghost. There was nothing exciting about being invisible to the people alive or having limited objects he could touch and interact with. But he doesn’t dwell on it too much.   What’s more pressing on his mind is that he knows he’s going to hell.   “Can you stop hovering over me?!” His mother shrieks and dusts off her shoulder furiously like there’s a pet cockroach perched on it.   “No.” Yoongi continues to hover beside her. “You can’t make me.”   “Go away!” She grieves, throwing down the tarot cards from her hands onto the clothed table. She appears absolutely psychotic as she screams and scolds to an empty space. But she knows he’s there. “Stop bothering me! Don’t you have something better to do?”   “Actually, I don’t,” he bites back, refusing to go elsewhere. The woman can’t exactly hear him, but feel his presence and read his aura. Even so, she is annoyed.   She gets up, moving past the beaded curtains and moving through the narrow halls. Her steps are heavy, body tired from constantly feeling him over her shoulder. It’s the pressure of an anchor.   “I have a client coming over soon. For the love of all things good, please stop haunting me, Yoongi. This is my last request to you.” She is begging and ranting to the empty air. “Didn’t you always want to move out? Why are you sticking next to me like gum? You’re not four-years old anymore. Let me work in peace!”   Yoongi is childish. Stubborn. He refuses, especially now that he hears a client is coming. It only provokes him, making his eyes narrow and he comes even closer. She mutters curses, a hand pressing on her forehead and decides it’s better to just ignore him. The woman grabs a binder off the shelf and marches into the main living space, right as the doorbell rings.   She opens it. Yoongi’s mom has erratic hair and although she has a sophisticated demeanor, she is very much witch-like. It makes the woman on the other side startled despite having met her before.   Still, that doesn’t stop her from giving the woman a warm hug. “Welcome! Welcome, come in, come in!”   “O-oh, thank you.”   “Don’t be shy!” she laughs. “What kind of tea would you like? Do you want any refreshments?”   “I-I’m fine, thank you.”   Yoongi leans back against the wall with his arms crossed. He watches the arrangement and how both get settled down across the table from each other. The black binder is opened and his crazy mother flips through the pages. The woman across from her is the first to pipe up.   “I want to apologize about how I acted last time.”   “Nonsense. I completely understand why someone might hesitate to do this.” She looks up at her with a sincere gaze and reaches over to put her hand over her’s. “You’re still in grief.”   The woman nods. “I thought it over like you said and I really…..just want her to have peace. I’m scared that she’s lonely.”   “I’m glad that you called me then. It’s my mission to make sure that everyone is matched up with someone suitable and that will give them happiness in the other word.”   Yoongi scoffs. It’s a bunch of bogus and bullshit. He despises her and her scamming career — a matchmaker for ghosts? What a joke. She’s hurting these people suffering in grief and it’s unforgivable.   “Thank you.”   “Don’t thank me yet.” She smiles and looks through her binder before slipping a paper out. Yoongi strolls over, dipping down to look over his mother’s shoulder. Her muscles seem to stiffen as if she can feel him right there, but he remains focused on the profile he sees.   Middle class family. Tragedy struck halfway through university years. Bus crash. It’s unfortunate, especially considering how young you were. Yoongi’s eyes skim over to the picture of just you, a headshot from high school, and he finds you fairly pretty when you have a smile on. It’s a shame you died so early on in your life.   “So I’ve taken a long look over your daughter’s profile...and I assessed other profiles in all my binders and I believe I’ve found a match.”   “Really?”   The exuberant woman throws the entire binder backwards onto the last page. She fiddles with the sheet protector and takes out the page, sliding it over the wooden table like a secret contract or Satan persuading a clueless human to sign their soul away.   “My own son!”   “Pardon?”   “WHAT?!” Yoongi goes pale. His jaw is slack, eyes bulging out from his sockets, mortified.   His mother laughs, feeling his aura turn into a furious red. “I’ve met many souls and I haven’t found a better match than now. They were around the same age when they passed away and you said your daughter was feisty, right?”   She stares at Yoongi’s picture — at how soft his features are and kind his smile is. He looks like a cute boy and a good son-in-law. “Yes.”   “Well, I know my son very well and he’s….lively too. They would be a couple who would challenge each other, but ultimately rise above. At least that’s what my intuition tells me.”   “No, no, no!” Yoongi is in hysterics and he’s shouting to no one. “Is this your ploy to try to get rid of me?! You’re marrying me off?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You’re fucking sick!”   “He seems very hardworking,” your mom says after reading over his profile, noticing how many jobs he’s had, how he’s traveled around the world despite being at such a young age.   “Yes. He’s very particular and meticulous too. A very well-mannered boy…” when he wants to be, but she doesn’t add that on.   “Do you really think they’d go well together?”   “Well, I only really know once they meet.”   “Once they meet?”   “I can summon her into the room. Luckily, my son is already here.” She smiles, unbeknownst at how that very same son is ready to jump out the window and hope he can die a second time. “Would you like me to bring your daughter here?”   “S-sure.”   Yoongi is losing his mind. He can’t pay attention, slumped to the wall, sliding down to collapse on the floor. His hands are in his hair, shaking his head and in denial. In the meanwhile, his mother lights six candles and places out six cards, beginning a ritual. She murmurs bullshit underneath her breath and burns a picture of you to the candle beside her.   It goes up into flames, photo turning to ash.   Then, there’s a gust of wind.   Your mom is startled when the candles are blown out and Yoongi’s mother shuts her eyes tight, fingers rubbing against her temple. In the dimension they cannot see, there’s a mist and then a shrill scream. You’re pulled away from Jungkook’s classroom, surroundings warped and soul stolen away from your control.   You fall from the ceiling, landing on the carpet in a splat.   “What the fuck?!” You get up and Yoongi watches you in distaste as if observing spiders hatching from their eggs. You look around before your eyes meet.   He’s a random ass dude, rounded cheeks, brown eyes, reminding you of a cat with plush cheeks, but a stern stare. There’s also a woman in red robes, necklaces draped on her head on top of her untamed curly hair. Across from her and the tall candles is…..“Mom?!”   “She is here.”   “She is?” Your mom looks around into every corner. “Y/N?”   The woman hums. “She’s here. Standing right there.” She points right at you and you’re startled, barely managing to get to your feet.   “What the fuck. What’s going on?” you ask to no one in particular before turning towards Yoongi, noticing that he’s in the same state as you are. “Who are you?”   “Yoongi.” His deep voice rumbles against the walls and he wears an unimpressed expression as he scans you from head to toe.   “Can she see me?” You don’t look away from him, simply pointing to the woman.   “No. But she can feel you.”   “What?” You’re still flabbergasted, mind reeling and Yoongi feels just as numb. “What in the fucking hell….How?”   “She’s psychic.”   You’re befuddled, confused out of your mind. But the woman continues to speak. “I can feel her. She is….sad.”   “Sad?” Your mom’s eyes are rounded, brows knitting together, looking hurt and concerned.   Yoongi scoffs as his mother nods. “Deep sadness. You’re not taking care of yourself, are you? Neither is your younger son. She’s been following the both of you for some time now, watching over you.”   You’re surprised, taken back by her accuracy. Your mother also comes to cover her mouth with her hand, broken sobs tearing through her throat. “C-can I talk to her?” Once she’s gotten the signal to go ahead, she turns to the empty space, missing you, but still in the general vicinity of where you are. “Y/N, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you’re still worrying about me and Jungkook. But you don’t have to be worried about us anymore. We’ll be fine. Go on in peace, okay?”   A lump forms in your throat, keeping your words from spilling out.   “She won’t be alone anymore. They’ll be a good match.”   “What...is she talking about?” You look at Yoongi again, whispering, but the stranger doesn’t respond.   He appears defeated, knees propped up and arms openly rested on them.   “Y/N, you and my son are going to be wedded together,” the woman explains openly, answering your questions, “so neither of you have to be alone in the other world. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”   “Wait….what?!” Your reaction is similar to Yoongi, mouth dropping to the ground, eyes doubling. But you don’t fully understand the extent of what’s occurring — not as well as Yoongi does. He’s the one who’s truly devastated at this news. “I’m marrying you?!”   “Nice meeting you too,” he chuckles lifelessly.   You don’t appreciate his joke whatsoever.   “What in the ever living fuck?!”   “Hmm….I see it.” Yoongi’s mother bobs her head up and down, stuck in a trance as she stares at her ceiling. “They’re upset and angry.”   Your mom is immediately worried. “A-angry?”   “Damn fucking straight I’m angry!” You’re screaming and no one hears except Yoongi who covers his ears and scowls at your shrieking volume. “Since when am I getting married?!”   //   It’s unbelievable.   Even when you were alive, you questioned if you ever wanted to be married to someone. The thought of forever being tied down to another human being for the entirety of your life somehow brought a bitter taste in your mouth. You found everything and everyone annoying with enough time — surely, marriage didn’t suit you. But being married to a total stranger after you’re dead for eternity?!   This was some kind of living hell….and you couldn’t even escape via death by running into traffic.   “We have to find some way to stop this.”   “How?” Yoongi questions with a raised brow before scoffing. “We’re dead. It’s not like we can say anything.”   “You said she could sense us, right?” You chase after him in exasperation. “Can’t she tell that we’re against this?”   “She’s already made up her mind.” His gaze is firm, eyes cold and pinpointed on yours. “She won’t change it.”   “How do you know?”   “She’s my mom.” Yoongi turns on his heel one last time, challenging you to keep trying to test his patience, just so you’ll see what will happen. “The living has always been selfish, don’t you realize that? People will always be selfish. It doesn't matter that we’re dead. It doesn’t matter what we think. They don’t want us to rest in peace — they want their own comfort.”   You scoff, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. “So you’re just going to let this happen?”   “There’s nothing else we can do,” Yoongi repeats himself. “And we’re dead, right? We’ll pass onto the other side eventually. Marriage is a human construct. It doesn’t matter anyways.”   “Yes, it does,” you persist. “It matters to me. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t even know who you are!”   “I don’t want to marry you either.” With that said, he makes his move, strolling off.   “W-where the hell are you going?!”   “Away. Fuck off.”   You scoff, not bothering to chase after him anymore. “What an asshole.”   “I heard that!”   “Good!” You shriek after him childishly, repeating yourself and making it loud and clear. “You’re an asshole, you know that?!”   His voice becomes fainter, but you still hear his spiteful insults. “You’re an annoying bitch.”   “What the fuck did you just say? Get back here! You coward! Yoongi!”   You’re left breathless and defeated, fists crumpled together and face twisted in anger. A scream of his name comes out of you one more time before you’re left in silence with no choice but to collect yourself and pick up the remains of your diminishing sanity. You don’t know who he is or who he thinks he is — but you’ll never marry a bastard like him.   Before you can stomp off, the psychic lady who brought you into this mess enters through the doorway. She pushes the beaded curtains away and stops several meters away from where you’re standing, staring at the space you occupy as if she can feel your presence. It’s astounding how similar she looks to her son, rounded cheeks and cat-like eyes, only older and with untamed hair.   “Hello. I’m Min Chaerin. It’s nice to meet you.” There’s a pause. “I know you’re upset.”   “That’s an understatement,” you spit out, even if she can’t hear you.   “I promise you I’m not scamming your mother. I don’t know what Yoongi might’ve told you, but this is my job. I’m a matchmaker for the dead and I help the living with their grief. He never respected my profession when he was alive and I’m sure he still doesn’t respect it while he’s dead. He’s always hanging around on my shoulder to tell me that...But rest assured, I don’t have harmful intentions….”   She walks off slightly as if trying to get closer, but she misses you by a few inches, staring off towards the painting of sunflowers. “I know you might not want this, but I believe it can help you too. You’re scared of passing, aren’t you? I can sense it.”   You have no idea what this lady is going on about.   “You’re wrong.”   And within seconds, you vanish into thin air. Your aura disappears and Yoongi’s mother sighs, finally left alone in her own peace.   //   It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to find out what happens. On his way home from school, he looks through the mailbox and when he finds it empty, he goes through his mom’s bag to see if she picked up anything important. Instead, he finds a manila envelope and upon turning it the wrong way, the thin sheets of paperwork slide out onto the table, along with your profile and Yoongi’s.   It’s enough for him to go berserk.   “What is this?”   “What are you talking about?”   “This.” The high-schooler whips the papers around in his hands, his boyish features scrunched into wrath and giving him premature wrinkles. “You’re marrying Y/N off to some dead guy?!”   “Jungkook…” your mom approaches with an outstretched, gentle hand. “....sit down.”   “Don’t touch me!” He shoves her back, causing the older woman to stumble, gasping. “This...this is disgusting!”   He screams like it physically pains him, like he’s appalled by his own mother; like he is grossed out by himself and how he’s laid hands on his mom, how he’s losing control of his emotions completely. He feels disgusted by everyone and his own hands. “Why don’t you just let her rest in peace?! Why do you have to do this?! Why is this necessary?!”   “Jungkook.” Her eyes plead with his. “I don’t want your sister to be alone—”   “Do you think she would want this?!” he cries out, tears streaming down his face without him even realizing. Seldom has he been so openly upset. “Do you really think Y/N would want to get married?!”   “I can’t bear the thought that she’s alone!” she finally shouts back at him, breaking down and slumping on the floor as if begging for repentance. “I can’t sleep at night. I can’t eat. I keep thinking about it...how I...I should’ve been the one to die instead.”   The fatigued woman beats her chest as she sobs. The last thing she ever wanted in this world was to bury her own child. “She never got the chance to love, to live, to be happy…..I am her mom and I couldn't even protect her. I...I don’t want her to be lonely!”   “She’s dead. So let her die.” Jungkook’s fists shake and he throws the papers to the ground, coating the cold floorboards in white. “You talk to her picture when you get home, you put food out for her like she’s still alive. I was the one who had to clean out her stuff! I was the one who had to do all the funeral arrangements. And you think doing something like this will make you feel better?!”   The woman calls out to him, repeating her son’s name on his clips, crying for the old child she has left. But Jungkook is cold and his gaze is full of disdain. “Why don’t you just let her die already?!”   He stomps hard enough to bruise his own feet. The door slams, hinges trembling. The two of them cry in different rooms, tears that dissolve the bindings that held this home together. This time, you stay with your mom on the floor. Knees gathered and leaning against the wall, you watch as she weeps into her hands. From the corner of the room, someone passes through the furniture, another ghost that wanders in. It’s not Yoongi or a stranger, but Holly.   He doesn’t bark or yelp for your attention, merely approaching, sensing your sorrows. He curls up in your lap and you accept his affections, holding him close. You cry with your mom and she never knows that you’re right beside her.   //   “Marry me.”   “No.”   “Please, Yoongi?” You never thought you’d resort to begging and it’s beginning to take a hit to your pride. “I promise I’ll make you the happiest man ever.”   If looks could kill, you’d be lowered into your grave for a second time. His glare is cold, eyes cat-like and made of ice. But it doesn’t deter you for a second. “Over my dead body.”   “You said it didn't matter! We’re dead, marriage is a human construct, sound familiar?”   “Doesn’t mean I’d agree.” Yoongi isn’t even a bit curious as to why you’ve changed your mind so quickly. He truly doesn’t give a shit about you.   “Your mom’s going to delay the marriage if she knows we’re still upset over it. I don’t want it to be delayed. If you accept now, we can get it done and over with. Then we can be out of each other’s way.”   “I don’t think you understand something, kid.” Yoongi sits up from the bed, craning his neck to lock his eyes with yours. “Marriage is a human construct, yes. But a spirit marriage is different. We’ll be bounded together. Tied.”   “So?”   “I don’t want to be connected to you in any way.”   “Oh, fuck you too then.” Your fist balls up. He has the most punchable face in existence. “Listen here, Min. I don’t know who you think you fucking are, but let me make this clear to you. I don’t want to marry you, alright? Not in any way. Shape. Or form. I’m doing this for my mom, alright? The quicker our marriage happens, the quicker she can move on with her life.”   You want peace for your mom and for her to have an eased mind, even if it means you have to go through with this stupid thing. This….this marriage means nothing in the grand scheme of things. When it comes to your family — Jungkook and your mom — you’ll do anything that you have to.   But to your dismay, Yoongi scoffs and lays back down. “Yeah, no thanks. Go ask some other ghost to help you out.”   “Fuck you!” you shout at an ear-splitting volume and he grimaces, covering his ears. “I didn’t want to marry you anyway!”   With the last word in, you trample out. Rather than vanishing, you make sure to physically trample out as loud as you can so he can hear. Half of you expects Yoongi to run out of his room and accept your proposal and you would whip around with a curt ‘damn straight’. But of course not.   Instead, you end up marching into the main living area, right as there’s some meeting going on.   There’s a boy sitting at the round table next to a girl, in the middle of a union being discussed. The two of them look up at you and even Yoongi’s mother becomes startled at your presence, stopping mid-sentence to look around the space you’re in. The only person who is clueless is the affluent woman with pearls around her wrinkled neck.   “A-are you alright?” The old woman’s vision strays to where the shamaness is staring. “Is...is there something there?”   “N-no. It’s alright. It’s nothing.”   “Sorry for interrupting,” you mumble and duck your head. The two ghosts don’t respond and you go out quieter, exiting the house in embarrassment. Before you can take a sigh of relief though, one glance to your left and you're nearly scared to death.   “Holy fuck! You scared me!”   There’s a young female ghost staring into the window. She’s startled when she sees you, inhaling a sharp breath. “I’m so sorry!”   And before you can ask any questions, she disappears, body dissipating in front of your very eyes.   “What in the ever living hell.” You’ve never met so many ghosts before. This house was definitely haunted….   With a sigh, you’re on your way, walking across the lawn before you realize what you’re even doing and you spin around. “Is he really not coming out?!”   Goddammit.   With zero shame, you march back in, interrupting the meeting for a second time. The two ghosts watch with wide eyes, and even Yoongi’s mom hitches her breath for a moment, stopping mid-sentence yet again. But there’s no time for any more apologies.   You pass through the walls until you’re in Yoongi’s bedroom again. He’s still in the same palace where you left him two minutes ago — laying in the single bed on top of the train-printed blue bed sheets, staring up at his ceiling.   You never got a good look the first time around. His childhood bedroom is quite cute and cozy. There are knick-knacks on top of the wardrobe and on the shelves, toy cars and superhero figurines with pictures of his younger self that are cuter than you’d like to admit. The music posters on his walls and the stack discs are traces of his teenage years. But his room is fairly neat and organized, empty even, as if he had cleaned up before moving out and didn’t have plans of coming back.   “Fuck off, will you?” Yoongi drags a hand over his face, ignoring the way you’re standing with your hands on your hips, glaring down at him like you’re a disapproving mother.   “No, you.”   “Real mature,” he chides, less angry and with a speck of amusement in his low voice.   “Why are you fighting against me? I thought you already accepted this?”   “I thought you didn’t want to marry me,” he throws right back at you, using his words like a boomerang.   “I changed my mind.”   “Then I changed my mind too.” There’s a ghost of a smirk on his mouth and you release a frustrated exhale, holding back on throttling Min Yoongi to the ground like your instincts are telling you to do.   “Just agree, goddammit! You’re lazing around anyway!” Your arms shoot up, motioning to how he’s lounging on his bed with his arms folded underneath his head like he’s sunbathing on some beach. “We have no choice either way. Like you said, your mom’s going to go through with it — so better now than later!”   “Hmmm….” Yoongi pretends to consider it. You want to strangle him so bad and it’s not like there’s a ghost police to arrest you either. The only thing is...he can’t die a second time and you really can’t afford pissing someone off bad enough that they’ll enact revenge on you. “Let me think about it…...okay…..”   “Okay?!” Your eyes widen in excitement, lips beginning to draw upwards.   “Okay, I’m thinking about it,” he corrects with a shit-eating grin. Your own mouth falls into a straight line and he turns his head to stare at you. “No.”   “Fuck you, mommy’s boy!”   “What did you just call me?” Instead of being offended, Yoongi is even more amused. Your insults keep having a reversed effect on him and it’s driving you crazy.   “A mommy’s boy!” you scream at him indignantly. “You still live with your mom! And she told me you’re always perched on her shoulder like some kind of bird! You obviously got mommy attachment issues!”   He scoffs, finding it utterly ridiculous to the point that it’s humorous. “Are you done?”   “Yes!” you exclaim and his grin widens, having not expected an actual answer.   You’re absolutely humiliated from having your proposal rejected. You’ve been slapped across the face by his apathy too. There’s nothing you can do, but stomp out for the hundredth time. Yoongi yells something that you better not come back to bother him, though the pair of you are perfectly aware you’ll come back sooner or later.   But luckily for you, you’re not interrupting the meeting for the third time. The wealthy lady as well as Yoongi’s mom are outside, ending their long conversation together. The female ghost seems to have gone too. There’s only the male left, standing at the window and staring out at the front lawn.   Your steps slow, tired from being angry.   The tall male turns slightly from his spot. “Umm….hi.”   “Hi.” It’s awkward. You didn’t expect to be stopped by the ghost and you’re especially taken back by how handsome he is, even with the sickly colour of his skin that every dead being seems to have. There’s something mischievous about the way he looks and carries himself as if his youth hasn’t quite passed on yet despite his body being gone.   “Are you getting married too?”   It’s complicated — but with a clenched jaw, you answer in determination, “Yes.”   “Cool.” His smile is sweet. “I’m Taehyung. You are?”   “A ghost.”   Taehyung bursts out laughing, mouth moving in a slightly boxy shape as his eyes crinkle. “Same.”   You haven’t talked to a lot of others since you’re passing. Aside from Yoongi, this has been the only interaction you’ve had. You act like you don’t care and most of the time you don’t, but you didn’t realize how much you missed interacting with someone else, having them see you as you see them.   “My mom’s marrying me off,” Taehyung tells you, looking out the window towards the lady in the driveway. A wistful sigh leaves the seams of his parted lips. “She says it’s for me, but I think it’s really more for her….so she can get a sense of peace.”   You feel him on a spiritual level and you’re a few centimeters away from giving him a pat on the back.   Dead laughter streams out his chest, never reaching his eyes. He murmurs his thoughts like he’s speaking to himself, “She’s controlling even after death. Can’t escape an arranged marriage, huh? Till death do us part, my ass.”   You snort. “Tell me about it.”   Before anymore can be said, something catches the corner of your eyes again; but you’re more prepared and not so startled. Your head turns and you find the ghost once more. This time she’s standing in some bushes on the side of the lawn and you wonder if she’s some sort of stalker.   Your forehead nearly passes through the glass of the window and a muscle in your cheek twitches as your eyes narrow. Her vision is pinpointed on the male beside you, but once she finds you looking right at her, her sad expression becomes surprised and she vanishes again.   “Huh.”   “What is it?”   “There.” You point off and Taehyung shifts. “But she’s gone again.”   His brows furrow. “Who?”   “I don’t know.” You shrug. “Some girl who was looking through the window earlier. She scared the living daylights out of me…..” You smile at your own joke.   Taehyung doesn’t laugh. “W-what did she look like?”   “Short hair. Almond eyes. About...this tall.” Your hand juts out, matching the height you remember and suddenly, there’s a ripple of recognition that comes across Taehyung’s beautiful features.   “Yeonmi?”   “You know her?” Your eyes move to look at him, but Taehyung is preoccupied, staring into the distance with a slack jaw, a frown marring his visage. “Hey! Where are you going?”   The ghost jogs straight through the wall, away to the garden and out of sight.   You sigh. Goddammit. You were just about to ask him to marry you too. But they always run, don’t they?   In life or death, you’ll never be popular.   //   She is heavy, weighed down. It’s an inch on her back that she can’t reach, a tickle at the nape of her neck. Goosebumps erupt and the hair on her arms raise all over her flesh. No matter where she saunters off to, she constantly feels like she’s being watched. “Min Yoongi, if you do not leave me alone, I will exorcise you from this house.”   He scoffs. “No, you wouldn’t.”   Yoongi’s mom washes her dishes at the sink, scrubbing her plates with passion as if trying to release her annoyance on the porcelain. “You can hate me all you want, boy. But at the end of the day, you’re hurting yourself more than anyone.”   He watches her in silence and he can’t find it in himself to disagree. Yoongi does hate his mother. He hates what she believes in and stands for, resents how he never felt her love while growing up, despises how she plays with others’ grief. But he can’t argue or throw tantrums. So he’s made a resolve to never stop plaguing the woman and making her life miserable.   The middle-aged woman’s hands halt on scrubbing. The sponge falls to the bottom of the sink and she turns to her right where he’s hovering, feeling the pressure of his aura that’s increasing in intensity. Yet, instead of being bothered, a long exhale is released from her lungs.   “Yoongi,” she calls him gently with sad eyes. “You’re lonely….aren’t you? That girl that I matched you with, she can help you. You can help her. The both of you are similar in more ways than one, I feel it.”   Yoongi doesn’t want to hear any of it. It’s the first time he admits defeat and walks off. But his mother has his persistence and wipes her hands quickly on a tea towel to follow him as he drifts away. “If you trust me this once. If you believe in me and my work this one time, then you’ll see I’m not wrong. She will help you to peace and you will help her, I am certain of it.”   “I don’t want peace,” he responds calmly, but she can’t hear him.   “You didn’t believe me when I said I could sense ghosts.” She stops and his own feet halt. An extended inhale is taken through her lips. “And now you’re on the other side, you know I wasn’t lying. Why do you think I’d be lying about this? Stop being so cynical and skeptical for once and trust me.”   “I won’t marry her.”   Yoongi disappears, dissipating from his spot. His mother sighs, losing sight of his soul and she returns to the kitchen to finish her chores, mumbling incessantly about her good for nothing son.   In the meanwhile, half across the city in a tiny home, you’re bored out of your mind.   “Hey…..” You’re curled up on the armchair, leaning over to the wooden desk. “Are you going to do anything exciting any time soon?”   “Go, go, go,” Jungkook mutters excitedly with his pupils wide, fingers tapping on the keyboard like his life depends on it. This is the most lively you’ve seen him in the past few months.   “Don’t you have any homework to do, brat?” you nag him even if he can’t hear you. “What about your history assignment? If your grade drops even more, the school’s gonna call mom and you’re gonna be in a world of trouble. Since when did you become so irresponsible? I’ll throw your computer away!”   Jungkook continues to game in the dark. He has no life. No friends.   But at least he’s not watching porn. You wouldn’t be able to stick around for that — you’d probably have to poke your eyeballs out and jump on to oncoming traffic. Still, you didn’t know your dork of a younger brother could get any lamer. He’s been playing all day, eating chips instead of having a real dinner, hasn’t showered at all….god, if only you could give him a noogie.   Suddenly, there’s a whisper in your ear, hot breath skimming on your skin— “Boo.”   “AHHHHHHHH!” You’re scared to death, chilled to the bone, nearly falling out of the plush armchair. Your hand is over your chest, an absence of any heartbeat underneath your palm. “Wh-what the fuck is wrong with you?!”   Yoongi is laughing like the little shit that he has. There’s a gummy grin plastered on his face, the biggest goddamn smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Are you scared of ghosts?”   “Shut up! How the fuck did you find me?!”   His hands are digging into his pants pockets, lips pouted. The only light is from Jungkook’s computer screen, the white hue casting a soft glow on your skin. Yoongi leans against the wall and stares at you. “It wasn’t hard looking for your address when my mom’s written a thousand details about you from your mom. I thought you’d be here….turns out I was right.”   You get up, blocking his view from Jungkook. “Get out. Go away.”   But he doesn’t move, merely tilting himself and jutting his chin at the boy seated in the chair that you’re being protective of. “That your boyfriend?”   “Ew. That’s my brother, you idiot.”   “And you’re calling me a mommy’s boy for following my mom around?”   “Shut the hell up.” You walk through the wall into the kitchen where your brother left on several dim lights. Yoongi follows you out where you can both talk without the noise of guns firing and bullets spraying. “What are you doing here? Did you change your mind?”   “Not particularly.” He shrugs. “I was bored?”   “You were….bored?”   “Yup. My mom was annoying me with her nagging and I have no one else to bother except you.”   “Wow. I’m so honoured,” you deadpan with an unimpressed expression. Yoongi smiles softly, the corners of his mouth curving and his skin bathes in the warm light of the standing lamp. It brings a lump to your throat, but you ignore it. “Did you at least think about it?”   “My answer hasn’t changed.”   “So if I got down onto one knee right now and proposed, you wouldn’t accept?”   “I’d be amused,” he says as if it’ll make you feel any better. It doesn’t.   Yoongi takes a long moment to look around your house. Your home is small and sad, falling apart, though he never makes any comments on it. It makes you uncomfortable that he’s prying into your private family life, looking at the pictures and how you lived when you were still alive. But you guess it’s fair he takes a look around considering you’ve been to his house and bedroom a number of times now.   “Listen—”   “Hello?”   He’s interrupted by another voice, deeper and growly.   A ghoul emerges from the white wall, floating and pale.   Yoongi yells. You scream. The two of you stumble back, scared at wit’s end.   The ghost’s eyes are big and he spits out apologies for not making any noise beforehand. At the presence of a new guest, you blink thrice. “T-Taehyung?! What are you doing here?!”   “I was looking for you and I followed him here.” He points to Yoongi and the latter man recognizes him as one of the clients. They’ve seen each other briefly before, though never exchanging more than a slight nod of acknowledgment.   You turn towards Yoongi, glaring at him for leading ghosts into your house. You’re the only one who should be haunting this place. He doesn’t say anything, solely putting his hands up like it wasn’t his fault and you sigh, turning to the taller ghost. “What do you want from me?”   “I need your help. That girl you saw before. Yeonmi.”   “What about her?”   “I want to marry her.”   You exchange a look with Yoongi. What the hell?   //   Apparently he’s been searching for this girl desperately, going to every place that he could think of only to come up short each and every time. But you’ve seen her….twice.   “How am I supposed to find her, Taehyung?” You don’t know anything about this girl. It was all a coincidence. You only saw her because she was following him. For all he knows, she could be right under his nose.   You decide to shun him, but his desperate beginning continues. Yoongi bids farewell, making it clear that this isn’t his problem. He’s an idiot if he thinks you’re about to let Taehyung pester your family, so you follow him while Taehyung follows you. It’s a conga line — not of dancing, but of haunting each other.   “Please, please, please, Y/N. Help me.”   “I can’t.”   “Can you two be quiet? I’m trying to rest.”   “You’re dead.” You hover over Yoongi’s body that’s laid on his bed again, flat on his back with his arms to his side like he’s a vampire in a coffin. “You don’t need rest.”   “Haven’t you heard the saying ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead?’ I’m following through with it.”   “I love her.” Taehyung drops down to his knees. It’s difficult to ignore him and you shift on your feet uncomfortably. “We knew each other since we were kids and we dated for a while, but then we broke up and I….I still love her. I still think about her. I didn’t know she was still here.”   “What would it take for me to marry you?” you ask Yoongi. “Do you want a dowry?”   “I can’t take anything with me when I go to hell.”   “You’re already in hell.”   The corner of his lip lifts into a smirk. “If you’re here, I’m definitely in hell.”   “Wow, bitch. Be like that.”   Taehyung swallows hard and his rumbling voice drops down into a whisper, “She’s the one I want. No one else.”   You stop, lips falling into a straight line, turning to look down at Taehyung. You take a seat, leaning against the wall with your knees propped up. Yoongi’s eyes flutter open, staring up at his ceiling and Taehyung continues to weep with his head downcasted. Aside from the ghost’s soft sobs, the three of you linger in the silence.   “I don’t know how I can help you. I...really don’t.”   “Y-You’ve seen her before.”   “That was by coincidence.”   “She won’t let me talk to her. She’s running away….but if I could just...if I could just tell her I’m still in love with her….”   You turn your head towards your supposed fiancé. “You should make yourself useful, Yoongi.”   “Die.”   “I’m already dead,” you spit at him, serious and no longer joking around. “I get if you don’t want to marry me. But shouldn’t we at least help someone out who wants to get married? I can’t do this by myself….please?”   There’s an extended moment of silence.   It draws on and on.   You continue to stare at Yoongi.   He sighs.   “......you’re so goddamn annoying.” He gets up and you smile. Taehyung is relieved, looking at both you and Yoongi with a grateful gaze, but your fiancé tells him not to be thankful yet.   //   Yoongi searches through his mother’s profiles. He can’t pick things up from the shelf, but luckily no one in his family has ever been particularly neat. There are things sprawled out in organized messes and he uses the wind to flutter the pages back and forth, searching for the girl’s picture.   You’re on lookout duty, keeping an eye out and following Taehyung closely. She could be anywhere, but you caught her following Taehyung, so there must be something she has to say to him or at least there’s something she wants to do. You suspect her last wish is what’s holding her back.   “Is she in the binders?”   “I’m still looking.” Yoongi flips through and Taehyung tries to help, looking over his shoulder. Yoongi becomes a little uncomfortable and finally understands what his mom feels constantly when he’s hovering over her. Nonetheless, hours pass until—…“found her.”   Yoongi’s mother is humming a song underneath her breath. After a long day, she’s finally able to wind down and relax. The older woman is stretching her shoulders, patting the skincare cream into her cheeks as she prepares for bed. She’s walking over, ready to slip into her toasty covers, but then freezes mid-step, chills sweeping up her spine. She cranes her neck over and souls emerge from the walls.   “Y/N? And...Yoongi.” A grin pulls onto her face. “What a lovely surprise. It’s nice to see you two together. Have you changed your minds—?”   She’s cut off when you’re accompanied by a third.. “Who is this?” The woman squints as the tips of her fingertips tingle. She feels the air around her and stands straight. “I recognize you….you’re that young man from a week ago...Kim….Taehyung….I’m right, aren’t I?”   “Yes, I am!” he chirps, confirming her belief, but she can’t hear.   Yoongi apathetically waves his hand into the air and the slip of paper comes out from beneath the door. Her eyes stray off and when she walks over, she bends down to pick it up. “Park Yeon….mi? This is a girl from a while ago…..”   Yoongi’s mother is confused, but Taehyung approaches confident and firm. “I want to marry her.”   “What do you want me to do with this?” she asks and looks towards the spaces you occupy. Her intuition sings to her and she is quick-witted, catching on fast. “Perhaps...you want to marry this girl, Taehyung?”   His aura morphs into a bright yellow, confirming her suspicion. She sighs. “I don’t know if your mother will accept this. We’ve already agreed to have you with another girl….” Taehyung begins to pour out his protests. Yoongi scowls, turning away. But you stay in your spot, trusting in the woman. She inhales and nods. “But….I’ll see what I can do.”   You smile, full of relief. Even Yoongi appears surprised, shifting slightly with a lifted brow.   But even with things going smoothly, you’re on alert. If possible, you want to get to the girl before she’s summoned.   “I don’t know what my mom will say,” Taehyung admits nervously. “She wasn’t ever approving of our relationship…”   “Well, there’s nothing we can do. They’ll take it from here,” Yoongi brushes off. “You can only hope for the best.”   “I guess….” The three of you walk down the hall, making your way across the manor and back to Yoongi’s bedroom. You wonder if he died in his bed since he has such a damn attachment to being in that same spot. It’s practically his coffin.   “Do you have nowhere else to be? Are you going to keep bothering me the entire day?”   Taehyung pouts. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”   You trail after the pair of them until something passes through the wall. A small animal with stubby legs causes you to stop. “Holly?”   The puppy yelps in response and the two males are too caught up in their banter to notice that you’re left behind. They walk through the doorways, disappearing from sight and you lower yourself to the poodle. The ball of fluff has his tail wagging, happy to see you and a smile itches up your lips. “What is it?”   Your arms extend, about to pick Holly up, but he jumps back and totters the way he came. You frown and he spins back to look at you as if asking for you to come along. You follow the puppy, passing through the walls until you’re outside and you hear tinkling giggles.   “You’re back, puppy?” a light voice sing-songs and you step into the sunlight.   The girl you’re looking for is sitting meters away in the garden. “Yeonmi?”   She gasps, eyes wide and looking up at you. “Um...is this your dog?”   You glance down at Holly. “Yeah…I guess...”   “I’m sorry.” She stands, smoothing out the floral print of her dress and nervously tucking a strand of her hair behind her ears. “I didn’t know. I-uh…”   “Wait. Don’t go.” Your hand is extended and you force yourself to remain calm. “Please, listen to what I have to say.” Her teeth sink into her trembling bottom lip and she takes a glimpse over your shoulder. You reassure the girl, “He doesn’t know you’re here. Don’t worry.”   After a beat, she nods, deciding to trust you. The both of you take a seat on the bench, watching Holly wandering around the gardens, teetering from side to side as he circles butterflies and the tulip flowers growing with weeds and untamed grass in between.   “I’ll cut to the chase.” You’ve never been good at sugar coating things or easing in. It’s better to lay it on flat. “Taehyung wants to marry you.”   “W-what?” She is astounded and blinks hard. You’re endeared by how sweet her personality seems and how pretty she is. She’s soft-spoken, but her eyes are bright and despite being dead, they have life within them. “I-I thought he was marrying someone else!”   You shake your head. “He went looking for me to try to search for you. He still loves you...a lot...enough to bother me even after I told him to get lost.”   “I…” Yeonmi toys with the hem of her dress, wrinkling the chiffon fabric in her hands as she bunches it up. “I was the one who broke up with him all those years ago. I broke his heart. I didn’t mean to….I just want him to be happy….and I thought this time, he’d finally be with someone who deserves him.”   You watch her, the way regret has etched itself through her thoughts, words and actions. “I don’t deserve him.”   “That’s bullshit and you know it.” You turn fully to her, almost angry at her reasoning. “Look. You’re dead, alright? There’s no changing that. You’re dead. I’m dead. There’s no point of having regrets now. Don’t make up excuses, okay? If you don’t want to marry him, then say so because there’s nothing stopping you now except for yourself and your insecurities.”   She blinks hard, taken back by your bluntness. “I….”   “Do you love him?”   Yeonmi looks into her lap and she confesses, “I do.”   “He loves you.”   You don’t get it. It’s so simple. Why can’t love and romance be straightforward?   “But I just can’t do that to him,” she whispers. “To throw him away and then take him back again. Taehyung doesn’t deserve that.”   “That doesn’t matter to me.” A voice interrupts out of the blue and the ghost materializes from the wall.   “Jesus, motherfucker! Oh my god! You almost killed me!” For the millionth time, you’re nearly scared to death at his appearance, a hand put over your chest out of reflex. Yoongi follows after the taller male, strolling into the scene with a smirk. You really wish these ghosts would stop sneaking up on you. “How did you find me? I thought you didn’t notice.”   “You were gone.” Yoongi shrugs with pouty lips. “Of course, I would notice.”   Unlike you, Yeonmi isn’t startled or fazed. Both her and Taehyung ignore you and Yoongi, stuck in a small bubble of only them, locked gazes that make the moment all too intimate. She stands and begins to back away. “T-Taehyung….”   “Please don’t run from me,” he begs her with saddened eyes. “Not again.”   “I...I’m sorry.”   “I love you!” He shouts before she can vanish in front of him. Taehyung’s fists crumple and he doesn’t back down to what he’s been thinking about for the past several years, the thoughts that have been plaguing him day and night, regrets that he lived and died with. “I still love you, even after all this time….I haven’t stopped thinking about you, even after you died.”   A ripple of sadness strikes across her features until she’s shattered, breaking down into sobs and rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hands. “I...I broke your heart.”   “You did. But that never once changed how I felt about you.”   It’s sappy and you’re eating it all up. While you’re standing back and next to Yoongi, you watch the beautiful moment like it’s part of The Notebook. “Y-You don’t care that I hurt you?”   Taehyung shakes his head. “You’re my best friend — you’ll always be. And I can’t imagine marrying anyone other than my best friend.”   “Taehyung…”   “I don’t want to marry anyone else. I want you. I will always choose you.”   Yeonmi is the one who steps forward, taking three strides to close the distance between their forms. His arms are stretched and they wrap around her waist. They embrace each other, holding one another close and she cries into his chest and he digs his nose into her hair.   “I never thought I’d get to see you again.” He laughs tearfully, staring up at the white clouds in the sky that’s oblivious to them. “When you died….when you died…”   “I never left.”   “We didn’t get to spend our lives together, but we can spend eternity together,” he murmurs to her and when the words melt your own heart, you realize what a sucker you are for this kind of thing.   You lean over to Yoongi. “What he said.”   His chuckles are muffled and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, making Yoongi look younger than he usually does. “Your attempts at proposing are getting worse and worse.”   “Would it ruin the mood if I dropped down to one knee right now?”   “I’d walk away without looking back.”   You scoff, the two of you whispering back and forth to each other. “You already do that.”   Usually watching a couple blissfully in love would make you feel somewhat bitter and you’d become cynical, knowing that it wouldn’t last and imagining them breaking up and being better off alone. But knowing Taehyung and speaking to Yeonmi, you have a sense that this is meant to be.   And you don’t feel so lonely when Yoongi is right beside you.   //   There’s only one thing left. Everything on the side of death has been reconciled. Now you wait for the side of the living.   “W-what do you mean?” Taehyung’s mother is confused, baffled, and her brows are furrowed deep.   “He came to me and he told me who he really wanted to be with.” She slides the paper over the table. “Do you know her?”   The woman gasps, hand lifting to cover her mouth. Sobs choke out of her throat and she glances up at the shamaness. “Ye-Yeonmi…? But...I...I…” She never once approved when they were both living.   “It’s what he wants,” she conveys the message. “He’s always loved her.”   The words are spoken with truthful sincerity and even Taehyung’s mother knows it.   For minutes, it is silent. Both Yeonmi and Taehyung are seated across from each other, nervous and patient for her response. Would she still disapprove after his death? Even after his last request?   You observe the way a multitude of emotions washes over her face and after an extended moment, she puts the paper down, peeling her eyes off of the deceased female. If Taehyung’s mother even had a trace of skepticism towards Yoongi’s mother, she doesn’t have any anymore.   “If that’s what he wants…” A wistful smile graces her visage. “Who am I to say no?”   It takes one single sentence to hurl the two of them from worry to happiness. They grin at each other, reaching over the table to hold one another’s hands. You’re standing beside Yoongi, leaning against the wall and watching with a smile.   It doesn’t take long. Their pictures are brought together and Taehyung’s mom brings a photograph from home as well, an image of them when they were still children. The ritual begins and you help Yeonmi doll up, twisting her hair, albeit awkwardly, but she still appreciates it.   They sit together in front of Yoongi’s mother, candles lit all around. Taehyung’s mother sits back with you and Yoongi. The shamaness murmurs incantations, letting a warm breeze sweep over the room as the pages in her books begin to flip. Yoongi seems bored, full of distaste, but you make him stay to watch. Deep down, you’re a sucker for sappy things and you can’t help but clap when it’s all done.   The pair of them are overjoyed, content smiles pressed against each other when they kiss one another, trying their best not to giggle when they seal their bonds. They hold hands, fingers interlaced as he teases her for the way her kisses have gotten sloppy.   Yoongi’s mother senses their bliss and tells Taehyung’s mom — the latter woman which has her own content smile, satisfied when the weight of her regrets and part of her grief are off her shoulders. The old woman nods and tears spring from her eyes, crying from happiness.   Taehyung holds his mother without her knowing.   Peace is brought and when it’s all over, you swear Yoongi’s mom turns around to look at you, gratitude present in her smile.   “What are your plans now?” you ask the newlywed pair, trying your best to not let your jealousy show. While marriage never appealed to you, you’ve always wanted to be as happy as they appear. “Going on any honeymoon?”   “Actually…..” she glances at Taehyung. “We...we talked about it…”   He squeezes her hand comfortingly. “And we think we’re going to cross.”   “Cross?” Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Y-you don’t want to stay here at least a bit longer? You can’t come back if you cross over. It’s a one-way ticket!”   “We know. But there’s nothing for us here anymore.” The corners of his mouth lifts, doting gaze redirected to his wife.   “We already have what we want,” she reassures and exchanges loving grins with her husband.   “Well…” Yoongi rolls his shoulders, getting rid of the tension that appeared while he was watching the ceremony. He lazily nods and waves them off. “If that’s what you’ve decided…”   You flash a frown in his direction, unable to understand why he’s telling them to go for it.   But it’s ultimately their choice and you know you can’t stop them if they’ve already made up their minds. If they finished all the things they want to do on this Earth, then there’s really no point in being here. “We really can’t thank you enough.”   “If it weren’t for you, this idiot would still be standing in the bushes and stalking me.” He laughs, flicking her forehead and causing giggles to bubble from her chest.   “Stop, don’t remind me! It’s embarrassing.”   Taehyung grins, ginormous smile plastered on his face, and looks off at you two. “I hope I wasn’t too annoying. Thank you, Y/N. Thank you, Yoongi. And tell your mother I said thank you too.”   “I’m sure she knows,” he grumbles.   “We’ll see you on the other side?” Taehyung asks, knowing that it’s not goodbye forever, or at least that’s what he hopes.   You’re a bit uncomfortable, unable to give a definitive answer, but Yoongi nods again. “Maybe. Have a safe trip, you two.”   “We will.” They laugh, walking off together down the street, hand-in-hand. It’s their last stroll together before crossing. You stare at their backsides, how their shoulders are weightless, having fewer regrets than before.   You wonder if that’ll ever be you someday. It scares you to think about it.   //   The strip of paper flutters in the air back and forth, rolling around in the air like it’s a piece of confetti that was just popped in the midst of a celebration. You’re sitting on the ground, slumped against the wall, playing with the feather-light piece of white paper and watching it twirl back and forth. You wish you could touch and maneuver heavier things or fiddle around with other objects. You already have invisibility down — if you had other powers, there would be no limits to what you could do.   But at the end of the day, you’re not a superhero.   You’re just a ghost wandering the planet.   There’s shuffling across the small room. Yoongi rolls onto his side, arm dropping over the edge of his mattress, his lethargic gaze pinpointed on you. The strip of paper floats to the carpet, your attention preoccupied on him. You look at him. He looks at you. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes and you wonder if he’s sleeping with his eyes open.   “Why are you so quiet?”   “‘M not.” You’ve been hanging out with Yoongi more frequently. When you’re not, you’re following Jungkook and your mom as usual. But nothing’s changed with them — they still haven’t been talking to each other, your mom still grieving, your brother down in the dumps. It makes you feel bad and guilty watching them all the time. It’s a nice change to stop haunting them for a while. If guarding them is your main job, then Yoongi is your break.   And while it’s hard to admit, you enjoy his company. Sometimes nothing needs to be said and you bask in the comfortable silence, lingering in one another’s presence. Nothing feels too awkward anymore.   “You are.” He blinks tiredly, sounding almost concerned. “You’re always yapping off into one of my ears.”   “Fuck off, Yoongi.” You twirl your finger and the tiny paper begins to drift again.   “No, seriously. What’s up?” he asks again, persisting. “You’re weirding me out and I can’t rest properly when I’m thinking about you.”   You’re not sure what to tell him. “How did you die, Yoongi?”   His brow lifts, caught off guard. “That’s a personal question.”   “I think we’re past the point of personal.” You offer a meek smile, locking your stare with his again and the paper lies beside you. “You’re my fiancé.”   “That’s debatable,” he banters back with a soft smile and then there’s a pause before he tells you without any reservation. “It was a plane crash.”   “Oh. Did it hurt?”   His arm folds underneath his head and even if your question is stupid, he answers truthfully, “Not too much. I just remember...people and a lot of….”   “Screaming.”   “Yeah….lots of screaming.”   You were in a bus crash yourself. The vehicle skimmed across the road, tires screeching aloud. While the memories are vague, going by too fast that it felt surreal, you remember looking into children’s eyes, how scared they were as their mothers and fathers held them. The bus teetered from side to side before flipping several times and you recall having no control of your body, hitting against other people, against the walls and floor, against glass windows until it stopped.   Then your eyes saw fire and you felt warm.   But most of all, you remember the screaming. The terrified, agonizing screaming of people dying and calling out to their loved ones for help.   It’s terrifying to think about it, but somehow it comforts you to know that your experience with death is not so different from Yoongi’s own experience.   “You know…” He breaks the silence, swallowing hard. “You don’t have to marry me.”   You lift your head, locking your gaze with his once more. “Screw family and what they feel. You can be selfish. It’s okay. Your mom and brother will recover whether you marry me or not. Time heals wounds. You can leave all of this behind, not worry about them, and cross…”   There’s a thick lump in your throat and you divert your vision away from his. “Why don’t you cross then? You’re sticking around because of your mom, right?”   “I’m not here because I want to be,” he tells you. “I made a promise to myself to haunt her.”   “Haunt her?”   “To make her life miserable,” Yoongi says simply, yet you still don’t understand. She’s an odd and an undoubtedly eccentric woman, but you’ve never questioned her kindheartedness. He seems to read your expression and rolls on his back, eyes shutting. You suspect it's the end of the conversation and he doesn’t want to reveal anymore, but the corner of Yoongi’s mouth moves. “My relationship with her was never good. She told me she could see ghosts and I never believed her. As I grew older, I thought what she was doing was gross — scamming people, the helpless, the grieving…”   “But when I died, I found out she wasn’t lying.” His eyes flutter open again, looking up at the ceiling and the way the paint has chipped in the corner. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s still forcing these ghosts to get married and it’s wrong.”   “Taehyung and Yeonmi…”   He cranes his neck over to you, irises darkening. “We had to intervene to get them married. Can you imagine the amount of souls that were married to each other when they didn’t want to be?”   “.......She wouldn’t marry them if they didn’t want to be….”   Yoongi scoffs. “I’ve been around way longer than you. I’ve seen the things she’s done. I won’t rest until she stops so...you shouldn’t try to marry me. I’ll be here for a really long time.”   He almost laughs as he tells you, words bitter, and you twiddle with your fingers in your lap, head downcasted and unsure how to respond. “I...I’m not leaving either.”   “Don’t wait for me.”   “I’m not,” you murmur.   “You don’t have any reason for sticking around,” he says easily like he knows you. But he doesn’t. “If you’re worried about your family, then don’t be. There’s not a good reason why you or anyone dead should be here. You’re the one who’s suffering at the end of the day. And doesn’t your mom want you to find peace? I’m sure she’d be happy if you crossed over.”   “I don’t know what’s on the other side,” you confess in a quiet voice, slightly annoyed that he keeps pushing you.   His brow lifts and he questions— “Does anyone?”   “I just don’t want to leave all of this behind.” You gather your knees together, hugging them to your chest, protecting yourself against your own vulnerabilities. “Look, I never got to experience life. I never got to travel and see the world or fall in love or any of that. I never had any fun while I was still alive, so sorry I’m not eager to cross over to the dead any time soon.”   “My life sucked. I didn’t get to do anything. I didn’t get to enjoy what I worked so hard for.” You hate how overly emotional you’re becoming, how your deepest thoughts are spilling out for him to hear. You’re an over pressurized capsule with the lid blown off, fists clenched, looking down onto the floor. “At least as a ghost, I can be around my family and go to school and go home and do all the things I’ve wanted to do.”   “I get it.” Yoongi finally understands — you’re regretful and full of self-pity. He empathizes and sympathizes more than you’d think. But what comes out his mouth is condescending, “You feel sorry for yourself.”   You glare. “Fuck off, Yoongi.”   “You’re allowed to feel sorry for yourself.” His lips are pouty and he rolls onto his side again to face you. “I think we’ve both earned that right. But at some point, we just have to ask if it’s doing anything anymore. You feel wronged, but so what? No one cares.”   “Gee, thanks.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “That makes me feel a lot better.”   He shrugs. “If you stopped caring, it’s a lot more...free.”   “It’s hard not to care.” Years of your youth were wasted. You never accomplished anything and you can’t help but feel you lived an empty, unfulfilled and useless life. Everything was taken from you before you could do anything. It’s unfair. “And that’s easy for you to say. Why don’t you just not care about what your mom is doing?”   “Because that’s something I know I can change. But how I lived my life….what I did or didn’t do...what’s done is done. We can’t change that no matter how much we want. We just have to keep looking forward.”   “But we’re dead, Yoongi.” You meet his gaze for the hundredth time, wondering how he can be so wise and his presence so calming. “What’s forward? What’s next?”   “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “We don’t know until we cross.”   “Aren’t you scared?” You look up at him, hiding your trembling hands. “What if there’s….nothing?”   “Then I guess that’s okay,” he hums, strangely gentle. “I’m going to stay here as long as it takes, but not forever. I just don’t think I can be here eternally, tied down by my past, wandering aimlessly. Sometimes...I just want to rest. Peacefully.”   His words shake you to your core and he asks— “Are you scared?”   Yoongi never lies or tries to hide himself. His candidness causes the walls around you to crumble and it makes you answer him with as much honesty as he has shown you. “Very.”   “Don’t be.” He softly smiles, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “No matter where we end up, I’ll be with you, right?”   You scoff lightly, a bit tearful, but you downcast your head into your lap to not let him see how much he’s moved you. Still, you can’t cover the stupid smile that’s plastered on your face. “Are you proposing to me?”   He hums a low note. “Sure.”   “Wait...what?” You raise your chin, nearly getting whiplash with how quickly you move. Yoongi’s on his back, staring at the ceiling with his arm stretched out like he’s trying to touch it. He’s completely casual and nonchalant. “You’ll marry me?”   There’s a pause.   Yoongi is quiet. “I think my mom’s going to marry me off eventually. If not to you then to someone else. She’s been trying to get rid of me for some time now and she thinks marrying me off will placate me or something. I don’t know what that psychotic lady is thinking.” He sighs, but there’s a sparkle of mischief in his irises when he slyly steals a glance at you. “Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re annoying as hell and obviously after this conversation, I find out you’re a hopeless case too……”   “You have a real roundabout way of saying this,” you complain with an unimpressed expression.   He ignores you. “But if I have to marry someone…….if it’s you...I don’t think I’d mind.”   A scoff spills from your lips and you don’t even realize that you’re grinning. “At least ask me properly, asshole. Do you know how many times I’ve asked you?”   Yoongi rolls away, facing the wall this time. He shuts his eyes and you suspect he’s ignoring you again, but then you hear his mumbles, “Will you marry me?”   It’s barely coherent, but more than you can ask for. A grin spreads across your face, a victorious emotion rippling through your chest and making you feel warm and fuzzy. “Damn straight I will.”   Yes, yes, and yes.   You never envisioned yourself married. But if it’s Yoongi, you could go through with it.   //   The bristles of the broom sweep against the concrete, brushing against the autumn leaves as the flutter from the trees. Colours rich in hue, red and gold and tangerine, coat the driveway like oil paints on a canvas. She hums a soft song, sounds taking flight in the breeze and traveling distances far and wide.   Two souls pierce through the walls, pulling through the physical matter and passing with ease.   You approach her while pondering how she doesn’t get startled. Maybe because she’s used to it by now; she has had the ability since she was born. You also wonder how Yoongi’s relationship with his mother would’ve been different if he saw ghosts too. It is both a blessing and a curse that this gift skips four generations in the Min family. Though you can’t really imagine him as a shaman….it’s a funny thought nonetheless.   “There you two are. Spending a lot of time together, are we?” She smiles, continuing to sweep the driveway. “I hope you’ve been getting close, but at this rate, you both might run me out of business. You seem to be better at matchmaking than I am—” she refers to Taehyung and Yeonmi with a grin.   “You should worry about your own marriage before looking at others.” The older woman works hard to clear her driveway and makes a mental note to invest in a rake instead. It is silent for a few beats too long and she looks up to find you both there. Oddly enough, her son’s aura isn’t red or black. His soul is almost tinged with pastel yellow. “You two…..you want to get married?”   “How many times do I have to tell you?” He drags a hand over his face. “I said yes.”   “She can’t hear you,” you chide with a smile until you feel something brush your leg behind you. One look down and you pick up Holly happily into your arms. “Hello there….”   “Great.” He lolls his head to the side, having too much fun teasing you, “You got a dog to tie me down, didn’t you?”   “I don’t need to use dirty tactics to ‘tie you down’.” You pout, hugging Holly to your chest. “You’re the one begging me to marry you.”   Yoongi scoffs. “I didn’t once beg you. You’re the one who’s been following me and proposing hundreds of times.”   “I can’t hear you,” you sing-song, ignoring him to coo at your puppy instead. Holly’s tail wags back and forth, ears perking upwards. He’s a part of your family now and you’re about to gain one more member into this small unit that you’re quickly calling your home.   You — Yoongi — Holly.   His mother can’t hear your banter, but can feel both of your warm auras. Her instincts sing to her and the broomstick slips from her grasps, clattering to the ground. A grin spreads across her face, elated that you’ve both accepted the marriage and she nearly trips as she runs inside the house to give your mom a call.   It happens so quickly. Maybe because she’s scared Yoongi’s going to change his mind or get cold feet. It’s miraculous that he agreed in the first place. And when your mom comes by, she’s also happy to hear that the pair of you are willing and excited to go through with it.   You’ll do whatever it takes to give her a peace of mind.   The ceremony is a simplistic ritual, candles lit all around and the two of you merely sitting side by side with Holly in front of Yoongi’s mom and your mom. There’s no fancy dresses, no extravagant feast, no hundreds of guests that you don’t know the name of filtering through a massive venue. It’s intimate and small, nothing else necessary.   His mother’s head is bowed and she reads off the pages of her red book. “—through this union and spirit marriage, their souls shall connect, never to leave the other behind—”   “I’m only doing this because it’s convenient,” Yoongi leans in to whisper, but it’s not like they can hear anyway.   “Uh-huh.” You tip your head to one side, pretty smile on your face as you bat your lashes back and forth. “You mean you’re not deeply in love with me? You haven’t fallen head over heels for this?”   “Psh. Not in this lifetime, sweetheart.”   “You’re a blind man, Min Yoongi.”   “No.” He corrects, “I’m a dead one.”   Infectious giggles spill from your throat and as he gazes at you, the corners of his mouth lift until he’s laughing with you.   It doesn’t take too long, just half-an-hour of listening to her words of wisdom and advice, reading off what ministers typically read as they officiate marriages. In hindsight, it’s silly to do such a human thing when you’re both dead. You’re doing this only for the living, but at the same time it’s much deeper than that. Yoongi will become your partner, romantically or platonically depending on you. It’s comforting to know that you won’t be alone. If you ever go to the other side...he’ll be with you every step of the way.   “—and with this, let their two souls entwined together evermore….” Her voice fades off and when you look down, you find your skin aglow. Your stomach feels tingly, but you aren’t sure if that’s the result of the ritual or butterflies bursting from glancing at Yoongi.   “We’re not going to kiss, right?”   “I mean, do you want to?” He licks his lips, half-lidded eyes pinpointed onto your own mouth and he smirks. “It’s not like they would know. We could technically consummate our marriage right here on the floor in front of them and they’d be clueless.”   “Yeah, I don’t think so. You’re five lifetimes too early for that, Min.”   “What? You’ve never kissed someone before?” He wiggles his brows up and down. “What are you waiting for? If not your dearest husband then who? Unless you’re planning to cheat on me with another ghost….”   You’re slightly amused from his scenario. “Would you kill the person I’d have an affair with?”   “I can’t. But I could strangle them.”   “With those limp arms, you can’t.”   “I know something else that isn’t limp….” he comments slyly and your face scrunches impulsively.   “Gross. Ugh, I’m so over you right now. When can I get a divorce?”   “Never.” He leans in, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. There’s no pressure to it whatsoever, a mere graze of his lips on your skin, but it still catches you off guard. Your pointed glare melts into a pout and he grins. You recognize how giddy Yoongi actually is, unusually hyper and it makes you all the more endeared.   Ironically, at the exact same time, your mention of divorce is overridden by the sound of the book slamming shut. “Yoongi and Y/N, I may now pronounce you as husband and wife, soul partners until the end of time itself.”   The candles are blown out, flames smothered with the warm breeze that suddenly sweeps through the wind. It caresses against the woman’s cheeks, curling through the strands of her hair and even when you can’t feel anything, warmth spreads from your chest to your toes, making you fuzzy and soft.   Your souls are now connected — whether that means. You’re sure it’s more metaphorical than anything. Nonetheless, a sense of bliss ripples throughout your being at your mom’s gentle smile.   “Is she saying anything?”   Yoongi’s mom looks over and sees the colour of soft pink. “They’re arguing.”   “Arguing?” Your mom is both concerned and curious.   “In a good kind of way.” She laughs. “They’re happy. Your daughter is happy to have someone with her.”   The other woman laughs quietly as well and nods in understanding. After a beat, she lifts her hand to wipe at her eyes before tears can start pouring out. She cries in relief.   You wish you could tell her that she was wrong — that someone ended up wanting you anyways. She always entered your bedroom with a pinched nose, saying how no one would want you if you didn’t clean yourself up. But she’s wrong. You found someone. Someone who doesn’t give a shit about anything trivial like that. And it’s not just anyone….   You found Yoongi.

[takingcourage]

Additions: Part 3

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 5,050

Summary: As the school year begins and tensions mount, Jaime and Arden start to wonder if they might be out of their depth.

Note: This chapter has been fighting me for the past two weeks, probably because it represents the true low point of the story and I hate making these characters suffer. While it’s not going to be completely smooth sailing from here on out, I can assure you that things will be better in Part 4. 

Warning: This section contains references to childhood depression and self-harm. There’s nothing graphic or gratuitous, but the mentions may still be upsetting. Please read at your own discretion.

August, 2027

“You keep spacing out over there. Should I be concerned?”

Smiling coyly, Arden glanced up from her carton of stir fry. Jaime sat across their dining room table, a half-eaten spring roll held between his fingers. It was the first time in days that she’d actually taken a proper look at him, and she was a little disappointed that she couldn’t do more than just look.

In seven years of marriage, his appearance had remained relatively unchanged. His eyes were still thoughtful and kind, his hair thick and just unruly enough to be perfect without him having to try. Maybe it was just his glorious golden tan skewing her perceptions, but she could swear that becoming a father had made him infinitely more attractive.  

Probably just wishful thinking since I don’t have him to myself anymore, she mused, meeting his inquiring eyes with decision. “Can’t I enjoy having a lunch date with my husband?”

His demeanor warmed. “I’ve kind of missed having time for just the two of us.”

“Me too. If these monthly meetings mean getting some of that time back, I’m all for them.”

She knew neither one of them would choose to change their circumstances. Having time together with the kids meant the world to both of them, but it also meant that things were different.

“These days, I feel like I’m lucky to get ten minutes alone with you before we go to bed.” Jaime chewed his last bite of spring roll contemplatively. “And even then, we’re usually talking about the kids.”  

“I know. By the time we make it to our room, we’re so exhausted that there’s usually just enough time to exchange a few sentences before we pass out. It’s not like we have time for a lot of conversation…or anything else.” Arden stretched a leg toward him, gently toeing his bare shin.

His eyebrows raised at the contact, but there was a sparkle of humor in his deep brown eyes. “Maybe we should start having these meetings more often?”

“I’d love to, but with all the projects you have slated for the rest of the year, I don’t think it’s very feasible. But we’ll keep finding ways to spend time together, I’m sure.” With a wink, she straightened back into her seat. “Besides, that’s not what we’re here for now anyway. We’re supposed to be comparing notes and making sure we’re still on the same page about parenting.”

“So we are.” In spite of his jocular tone, she knew he hadn’t forgotten. “All right, getting down to business.” He pulled a notecard from his pocket, unfolded it, and laid it between them on the wooden surface. “Question 1: What are your highs and lows of the first full week of school?”

Arden took a long sip from her glass of water. They’d prepared the questions beforehand, so she’d known exactly what was coming, but it was still difficult to separate the events of the past five days into those two extremes.

The week had been filled with so many little triumphs, from Sophia making band to Alex finally waking up on his own without needing a full half-hour of reminders. But in the end, one stood out.

“I think my high was getting that email from Will’s teacher. He’s a social guy at home, but I was afraid that he might struggle to connect with with kids in class. Hearing that he’s been making friends was really heartening.” Jaime’s lips parted, and she paused to let him speak.

“I especially liked what she said about him seeking out the shy kids during recess. He reminds me a lot of someone I knew when I was about his age…” Jaime’s voice trailed, but he ended the sentiment with a meaningful nod. 

Arden smirked at his suggestion. “Maybe we should pack some ice-cream bars in his lunch?”

“That might not be such a bad idea,” he said with a low laugh. 

Eyes crinkling affectionately, she shook her head and fished out another bite of vegetables. Despite the momentary diversion, she knew they needed to get back to the other half of his question. “Now for the hard part. My low was…Alex’s attitude about school and his refusal to talk about it. I keep hearing his thoughts about how stupid it is, but I can’t ask him anything pointed unless he actually tells me out loud.”

Jaime pinched his entree open with a sigh. “I think that’s probably mine too. He keeps shutting down whenever I try to talk to him about it. I keep hoping it’s just the adjustment period and he’ll find a new routine, but…”

But they both knew his history was discouraging. Though they’d decided long before the kids ever came to live with them that their case files weren’t going to define their expectations, it was impossible not to see the similarities between their own experience and what had come before. 

All three of Alex’s previous foster families had reported problems with managing anger, along with some variety of troubles in school – missing assignments, incomplete tests, refusing to speak in class. Though this year was off to a rough start, they still hoped to finally break the mold. 

“So what do we do moving forward?”

It was hardly the first time they’d posed the question to one another, but brilliant solutions were few and far between. For several seconds, Jaime stared at the wall behind her head, his thoughts indiscernible. “I think we just keep doing what we’ve been doing -- we deescalate when he’s upset and encourage him to talk about what’s bothering him. We have to get through to him eventually.” 

“I just wonder if there’s more going on,” Arden ventured. The half-formed thought had been stewing in her mind for a while. “I think he’s more scared than he is angry.”

“I’ve been getting that sense too. Starting in a new school is tough -- I remember. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to him about it soon.”

“It might help,” Arden encouraged. “He might share more if he knew what you’ve been through.”

"I hope so.” His smile returned, clearing the worries from his face. “Anyway, my high was Sophia asking me to help with that question on her homework last night. You were right there, so it’s not like we were alone or anything, but it’s one of the only times she’s initiated conversation with me.”

Arden still remembered the sound of Jaime’s jubilant thoughts as he’d read the problem over Sophia’s shoulder. Even just recalling it to memory sent a fresh wave of shivers over her shoulders. “You’re bonding with our daughter over math homework, Jaime. Who would have thought we’d be saying that a year ago?”

He shook his head with a half smile. “It’s finally starting to feel kind of normal. Not quite there yet, but I feel like we’re really close in a lot of ways.”

“I think so too.”

“And I have to say, I think we’ve been doing a pretty amazing job with them so far.” 

So far. Behind her smile, those two words lingered like a bitter aftertaste. As much as he’d intended them as an encouragement, Arden longed for the day when such compliments no longer came with conditions. 

_____

September, 2027

Arden tossed in a dishwasher tablet, sealed the door, and pressed start. For a moment, she stood in front of the noisy appliance, giving her mind a rest before she could start questioning why the other end of the house was so quiet.

Twenty minutes ago, all three kids had assured her that they were working hard at their studies. For her oldest and youngest, it wasn’t difficult to believe that they were still on task. For Alex, it was a completely different story.

Much as he hated being told what to do, he needed frequent reminders to continue working. The number of times she’d walked in to find him doodling in the margins when he was supposed to be reading was alarming. Thankfully, between the thoughts she overheard and her ability to read his body language, she could typically walk the fine line between motivation and bringing him to the point of anger. 

She’d never seen a child so hostile to any kind of instruction. They were only a month into the school year, but she was already convinced that the child’s teacher must be a literal angel to put up with his stubbornness for so much of the day.

He’s probably drawing again, she determined as her husband’s sure step broke through the after-dinner lull. Coming from the garage, Jaime met her in the hallway, a pair of lightbulbs in his hand.

“Are those for the upstairs bathroom?”

“They are.” He kissed her cheek before poking his head into the empty dining room. “The kids?”

“Alex is in his room. Will’s upstairs with Sophia, working on some vocab. She finished her homework before we ate.”

“Even exponents?”

“She’s got the hang of them now.”

Their daughter’s light tread came tripping down the stairs at that moment, her body a blur as she flew through the hall.

“Looks like she’s keeping both of them on top of their work,” Jaime commented when Sophia disappeared into the boys’ room.

“I should probably check in,” Arden suggested. “Make sure she’s not bossing him around too much.” She caught her husband’s attention once more before he mounted the stairs. “While you’re up there, could you tell Will that I’m ready to work on social studies whenever he is?”

With a nod, he continued his climb. As the sound of his steps faded, her ears detected a far different noise coming from Alex’s room -- a noise that sounded very much like ripping paper. 

That can’t be good.

Picking up speed, she crossed the threshold just a few seconds later. A pile of roughly torn half-sheets from a notebook lay on the floor before her. Examining the scene, Arden was vaguely conscious of Sophia’s feeble attempts to retrieve them, but what stood out to her more than anything was the florid coloring of her son’s face.

“I told you to leave me alone!” he shouted, pushing a stack of school books from his desk to the floor.

Sophia sidestepped in time to avoid the collision, but Arden still winced when they hit the floor. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Let’s take a deep breath and calm things down in here,” she began, determining that it was probably best to insert herself into the confrontation before the things went any further.

“He needs to finish his homework so he can pass and not get held back another grade,” Sophia summarized. “He can’t keep doing this!” 

The hint of piety in her tone grated the entire length of Arden’s spine. Even though she found herself agreeing with her daughter’s assessment, it was all-too evident that the accusation wasn’t going to do Alex any good.

That child was still seated, his heaving chest and white knuckles providing a glimpse of just how much frustration he’d been bottling up. If the objects on the floor were any indication, his anger had started to spill over. 

“You’re not my boss!”

Arden swallowed hard. She knew these moments were important – that she needed to make it clear that she was the parent and that they couldn’t just make rules for themselves. But the emotional tension was almost paralyzing. She could hardly think, much less find a solution to the conflict brewing in front of her. 

Still, she had to do something.

“Okay,” she started, still trying to gauge the situation. “It’s obvious that you’re both upset right now. I think it’s best for us to all take a few minutes to calm down before we try to work through this. Sophia, you can come with me to the living room. Alex, we’ll let you have some space and be back in a little bit to sort things out.”

…to the docks…

Arden raised a quizzical brow at her son’s arbitrary thought, but pressed on. “We’ll come back in a few minutes,” she reiterated, hoping that the reminder would get him help to calm him. 

Passing through the hallway, she checked the lock on the front door. As far as she knew, he had no history of running away, but his thought about the docks had left her unsettled. She wasn’t taking any chances.

_____

Jaime sauntered down to the main level of the house a few minutes later, expired lightbulbs in hand. By the time he located the proper recycling box and returned from the garage, his wife was waiting in the doorway.

In hushed tones, she filled him in on what had passed while he’d been upstairs. Feeling almost guilty for the time he’d spent joking around with Will, he was determined to pick up the slack in handling the aftermath.

“I’ll go and talk to Alex,” he volunteered, rubbing his palm over the line of his jaw. “I’d like to figure things out with him before we bring Sophia back into it.”

“Thanks. Good luck.” 

Making his way to the open bedroom door, he rapped a finger on the wood before pushing it the rest of the way. As the door swung wide, the first thing he noticed was that the room was empty. The second was that the window was wide open.  

"Alex?” His heart sank even before the word had left his mouth. This can’t be happening. 

Both girls came running at his elevated voice, quickly coming to the same conclusion that he had on seeing the scene.

Jaime didn’t waste time searching the room, instinct telling him that the boy had run from the house. All that mattered was finding him as soon as possible.

Arden’s small wave attracted his attention. When he looked to her, she mouthed a single word: docks.

“I’ll help!” Sophia offered, voice cracking under the pressure of tears. “He gets this way when he’s really upset, but I can usually calm him down.”

With a hand to his daughter’s trembling shoulder, Jaime inclined his head to look her in the eyes. The glistening pools flicked up to his for less than a second before falling back to the papers on the floor.

“Sophia, I know where to find him, and I’ll do everything I can to calm him down myself. For now, I think it’s best for you to stay here with Arden and Will,” he proposed, squeezing her shoulder gently.

“Okay,” she relented, though he could tell from her sigh that she was skeptical about his plan.

Can you explain it to her? he asked his wife as he slipped through the door.

At her nod, he started for the lake.

It seemed unlikely that the boy was in any real danger, but that didn’t stop Jaime’s heart from hammering harder with every step he took through the deepening twilight. Threat or no threat, he needed Alex to know that he wasn’t going to face anything alone.

He relaxed his pace on seeing the small figure at the end of the dock, but he was still breathing hard by the time he made it to the boy’s side.

His son was seated at the corner of the deck, eyes shining with a defiance that Jaime had seen more times than he could count. This particular display of anger would have worried him far more if his son wasn’t sitting with his chin tucked into his knees, curled smaller than he’d ever seen him.

Every part of his consciousness was screaming for him to bundle the boy up in his arms, hold him tightly, and promise that he was never going to let him go. Better judgement was all that held him back.  

“Hey,” he started simply, making sure the child was aware of his presence.

Alex ignored him, teeth ground in frustration.

With a deep breath, Jaime lowered himself beside the boy, careful to maintain several inches of distance between them. He looked him over again, catching a glimpse of the sunset on a series of haphazard lines along his forearm. 

Leaning closer, he could see that they were scratches. No blood had been drawn, but there was no mistaking that they’d been made by a set of fingernails.

Instinctively, his eyes jumped to the boy’s hands. Jaime’s stomach churned. No explanation was good, and he knew with absolute certainty that the marks hadn’t been there during dinner. 

He found himself wishing for Arden’s abilities -- for any advantage that could help him in the conversation that lay ahead. 

“Alex, we need to talk, bud,” he started gently, almost relieved that his son still hadn’t worked up the courage to look him in the eyes. Staring out at the water was easier for both of them. 

The boy’s only reply was a noncommittal, “Hmph.”

When Jaime looked at his face again, he couldn’t help noting the deep set of his brow. Arden was right. There was something more to this than just being angry. 

Whatever it was that plagued his son, this was probably the best opportunity he’d get to help sort it out. Adrenaline pumping, he launched in. “Alex, I know that sometimes running away from problems seems like the best way to solve them, but it usually just makes things worse.”

The child’s hands shifted, the fingers of one hand trailing up and down the series of angry red lines on his arm.

Jaime counted through several long breaths, hoping that Alex would take initiative to break the awkward silence. “Could you tell me what upset you tonight? If I have to try to guess, we’re going to be out here a long time.” 

“I hate school.”

“Did something happen today?” he pressed further. They’d known that the transition to a new school would be challenging, but nothing they’d seen in the first three-and-a-half weeks had given any particular cause for alarm.

“It’s just stupid and I hate it.”

Trying another tactic, Jaime delved into his own past. “I hated school too when I first moved in with Paula. I came to live with her toward the end of the school year, so I didn’t know a single person in my class. I spent the whole first month arguing with her every morning before I got on the bus.”

Alex didn’t say anything, though his grip on his knees loosened almost imperceptibly.  

“She always made me go, so one morning, I hid under the bed so she couldn’t find me.”

“Did she?” His voice was soft, but curious.

“She did.” Jaime shifted to straighten his legs, propping both arms behind him. His stomach was almost sick with the desire to keep his son talking. “And you know what she said?”

“Huh?”

“She told me that I was a superhero.”

Confused, Alex lowered his knees and crossed them, head inclining away from the water for the first time since Jaime had arrived. 

From the corner of his eye, He could see that the boy’s eyes were on him. “She told me that feeling upset could be a superpower, but that I wasted all of its potential when I let it control me instead of being the one to take control. Then she drove me to school and told me to try using my frustration to be the best second-grader I could be.”

Jaime monitored his response, catching the sneer that came over Alex’s features. He didn’t need Arden’s powers to know that the boy was unimpressed.

“I know, I know. It was cheesy. I realized that at the time too, but I wanted to prove to her that I was stronger than those angry feelings. In the end, her advice actually helped.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

“Look, I don’t want to make assumptions, but it seems like some of your feelings have been getting control of you too. Can you tell me what’s been happening?”

“I got angry. Couldn’t help it.”

“What couldn’t you help?”

“I don’t know.”

“You mean throwing your books and running away?” He didn’t even want to give voice to his other suspicion. “Hurting yourself?”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t help it.”

“Can you tell me what upset you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure? Did something happen at school? Was it something Sophia said?” He asked the questions at measured intervals, allowing the boy ample time to respond. When his answer finally, came, the harsh edge in his voice left no doubt in his mind that the conversation was over. 

“I said I don’t know.”

Drawing a ragged breath through his nose, Jaime stared out across the water. There was only so much he could do. It was eminently clear that his son wasn’t interested in sharing any more with him at this point, and pushing him further wouldn’t end well for either one of them.  

Conscious that the rest of his family had been left in a state of upheaval, Jaime determined that it was in everyone’s best interest for them to return home. The matter hadn’t been resolved, but there was still one final reminder he could offer the boy.

“Alex, I’m not sure how to help you right now, but I want you to know that you’re not going to have to deal with this on your own. We’re going to figure this out together, okay?”

The child gave no verbal response, but he joined Jaime in standing and returning to the house.

_____

Two hours later, Arden opened their bedroom door to find Jaime sitting motionless on the bed. They’d parted ways shortly after saying their goodnights to all three kids in the boys’ room.  

With the teary reunion that had occurred when Jaime returned with their runaway, it was little wonder that Sophia had insisted on sleeping on the floor between her brothers. The three of them shared a bond that was unlike anything Arden had ever known as an only child. For her own selfish reasons, she was grateful for the arrangement. Knowing Sophia would keep an eye on things made it all the more likely that she and Jaime could find some rest during the night. 

“I just got off the phone with the caseworker again.” She joined him at the end of the bed, legs close enough feel his presence even without actually touching. “She said we did everything we could.” The words felt as hollow as the sentiment behind them. 

Jaime’s hand slipped into hers, and she gave the clammy fingers a reassuring squeeze. 

“Anyway, I was hoping we could talk for a minute. I wrote up most of the incident report while I was talking with her, but there’s still time to add more details before I send it until tomorrow. Is there anything I should put in based on what happened at the docks? Did he tell you anything?”

“No, I just made things worse.” 

Unaccustomed to the defeat in her husband’s tone, Arden pulled up a leg to angle toward him. His face was a mask, though his thoughts were easy to read. 

I can’t believe I let this happen. 

“Jaime, this isn’t just you,” she implored, “I’m the one who left him alone in there. It never occurred to me that he would climb through the window.” Her strength waning, she dropped fully to the mattress. 

They’d known that parenting would come with its share of struggles, but she hadn’t anticipated that it would leave them feeling so helpless. She was used to problems that could be solved with the right combination of research and discussion. Their children’s hardships were far too ambiguous for such treatment -- especially when it came to their middle child. 

She’d thought that they could head off all of his anger and frustration – prevent it from factoring into this school year to any large degree. But instead, it seemed that he’d been bottling everything up and making it worse. Whatever it was that had set him off this evening was just the indication of a larger worry bubbling below the surface.

“What did we do wrong?”

Arden regarded him solemnly, forehead leaning against her palm as she propped an elbow on the bed. She allowed his question to soak over her mind, flirting with the temptation to take blame for something that she knew had been beyond their control. “I don’t know what else we could have done, honestly. Short of nailing his window shut, I’m not sure how we could have made things any better.”

Jaime fell to his back, emitting a long sigh before he attempted an answer. “I failed, Arden. I went out there thinking I’d be able to talk him through this and we’d be okay. I always figured that my past would give me an edge in dealing with these kinds of things, but I’m at a loss. I don’t know what else to do for him.”

Arden scooted next to him, her ankle hooking his as she drew close enough for contact. “Maybe there isn’t anything else we can do. Especially if there’s more to this than anger.”

“I know he’s been upset before, but this was a new low. If what the caseworker’s told us is right, he’s never run away or hurt himself like this. Why now?”

Shaking her head, she considered the flurry of thoughts that had been in the boy’s mind after they’d returned inside. “I think resentment and fear have been building for a long time. I don’t know who’s responsible for putting them there, but it breaks my heart.” Her throat clogged as she fought over her next words. “I hate that I’m even having to say this, but I think there’s something else going on too. He’s internalizing everything except his anger, and that really worries me.”

Jaime tensed. “I thought he was just having trouble adjusting. New house, new family, new school – I get how difficult that is. But I never wanted to hurt myself because of it.”

���I know.” She buried her face in the mattress as she gathered her thoughts. When she surfaced, it was with a question. “Do you remember that new mental-health initiative Ellen and I covered a couple of years ago? I remember thinking at the time that rates of childhood depression were way higher than I would have expected. I don’t think it’s totally off base to find a therapist for Alex to talk to. Even if that’s not what it is, he clearly needs someone more qualified to help him work through this.”

The more she thought about it, the more determined she was to pursue that course of action. She began drafting a conversation in her head, already making plans to call a therapist the next morning. It wasn’t until some minutes later that she realized Jaime still hadn’t spoken.

When she turned back to him, his face was furrowed with an agonizing thought.

Why am I not enough?

Arden’s blood ran cold. It had been so long since he’d doubted himself like this that she’d vainly hoped they’d moved beyond it. Her husband’s sensitivity was one of the things she loved about him most, but it had a tendency to make him vulnerable at the worst moments.

“Jaime, whatever’s going on with him has nothing to do with you.”

“But I’m his dad. Fixing things is part of my job.” He rubbed his temple, expression still strained.

Rolling closer to him, she splayed a hand over his chest. The hard muscles eased under her touch. “It’s impossible to fix everything,” she murmured, needing to hear the words every bit as much as he did. “And don’t you dare sell yourself short. As far as I’m concerned, all three of them are the luckiest kids in the world because they get to have you as their dad.” 

“You’d never know it from what happened tonight.” 

She hushed him with a tap of her finger. “Humor me for a second.” When he remained silent, she continued. “What were you doing outside with Will yesterday after they got home from school?”

His face softened, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “Kicking around a soccer ball.”

“Exactly. Babe, you’ve seen me play soccer. I fell over once because I wasn’t coordinated enough to kick with one foot at a time. Do you think Will would have had nearly as much fun if I’d been out there instead?”

“No,” he agreed grudgingly.

“And do you realize that you might be the first man in Sophia’s life that actually deserves to earn her trust? You can’t put a value on how important that is.”

“Then why can’t I get my own son to talk to me?”

Arden stopped short at the pitiful question. “It’s not just you. Sometimes I feel like ninety percent of what I know about that child comes from Sophia. He still isn’t ready to come out of his shell around the two of us, and I guess we’re going to have to be okay with that for now. It’s easier with the other two, sure. We keep seeing progress with them. Sooner or later, we’ll see it with Alex too.”

He turned toward her, capturing her in his embrace. She held fast, sighing with relief at the security in his arms. “I can probably count on one hand the number of times you’ve been the one telling me to be patient.”  

Arden’s laugh came out in hot breaths against his shoulder. “See? That’s just another reason why I need you in my life. Can you imagine all of the trouble I’d get into without you?” For long moments, he held her tight, strength coursing through every inch of skin that touched. “We’re going to make it through this.”

“We’re not quitters,” he added, combing a hand through her hair. 

“Especially not when the prize is worth it in the end. Those kids downstairs are so worth it. Our family is worth it.” 

I love you. 

The corners of her mouth tipped up at his thought. “I love you too, babe. So, so much.” 

Three months into parenting, they felt so far from where they wanted to be. Yet, as they clung to one another that night, both dared to believe that it was still within their reach.

[flightfoot]

Last Days of a Meat Puppet Chapter 3

Darkness.

Movement.

Heaviness.

Color blurs past

 getting closer

 before passing by.

Images resolving.

Walls. Floors. Doors.

All gleaming.

A stop.

Movement forward

but more slowly.

Lines of gold.

On the other side

a blob of color.

A figure. 

A person.

A boy.

Young.

Not moving.

Laying on the ground.

Wrong. This is wrong.

Sound reverberates.

The sound - not just any sound - resolves.

Gains meaning.

IT’S TIME

YOU WILL BE SENT DOWN IN THIS MORTAL BODY

YOU MUST DEFEAT PYTHON

RECLAIM THE ORACLES YOU NEGLECTED

WITH NO HELP FROM THE GODS.

ONLY IF YOU SUCCEED

ONLY THEN WILL I CONSIDER RESTORING YOUR DIVINITY

YOU THINK THAT YOU DESERVE TO BE WORSHIPPED ABOVE ME?

REMEMBER THIS.

I AM YOUR FATHER.

I AM YOUR KING.

YOU EXIST BECAUSE OF ME.

YOUR CONTINUED EXISTENCE IS DUE TO MY MERCY.

CROSS ME AGAIN

AND THERE WILL NOT BE ANOTHER CHANCE.

Some slight twitching. 

Barely a response.

Barely a reaction.

But the boy’s alive.

ANSWER ME.

A slight groan.

More twitching.

But no words.

A low GROWL.

The boy turns into sparks of light.

So, so few sparks.

Dim.

Fading. 

Nearly extinguished.

They surge forwards.

Then-

contact.

Soul shard touches whole soul, a godly soul.

Pushed, forced into this mortal form.

The essence is SHOVED into the space where a whole soul used to reside.

Filling the spaces left by Zeus’s malice

by his violence against the innermost parts of this being.

Yearning for completeness, for the missing pieces of himself

the shard makes do.

This other soul is similar enough.

It connects with the newcomer, using the soul to fill in the aching gaps-

And Lester is aware.

But not just him.

Apollo’s there too.

He’s barely conscious. Apollo’s had his my? essence slowly, painfully, painfully slowly - drawn out of him, his consciousness shrinking, contracting, until he and his memories could fit in the remaining essence, then repeated for months. No ambrosia. No nectar. Only one visitor.

Zeus. His my father. Only a few times. Only to draw out more essence, and to taunt. 

No one else came. No one else could. 

All that existed was Apollo, the net, and his slowly fading memories.

Maybe Zeus was right.

Maybe he did deserve this.

Faces flickered past.

Daphne. Hyacinthus.

Both dead because of him.

Scenes he could not fully remember. 

People he should know, but who he could not recall.

A man with his knife at another man’s throat, pleading for help.

Hands around a drowning man’s throat, keeping him underwater as he struggled.

Only a handful of the guilt he felt, only the ones who bubbled up to consciousness.

So, so much more below the surface, hidden beneath layer upon layer of distraction

of willful ignorance.

A facade so thorough, it fooled even the owner.

But not anymore.

No one remained to hold back the tide.

He wasn’t needed.

No one had come for him.

Would anyone even care if he were gone?

Images flickered briefly.

A woman with a kindly expression, cradling her to his chest.

His beloved mother.

She would care.

A young girl with cold silver eyes, looking annoyed and exhausted, but also relieved.

She is the very first person he ever sees.

His (sometimes annoying, but precious) twin Artemis.

They would care.

The images sputtered, then died.

Desperately he tried to cling to them, to the two people in his life who somehow, for some reason, STILL wanted to be with him.

They slipped away.

He’d justified his need for his continued existence to himself by telling himself over and over that he was gorgeous, that he could not deprive the world of his beauty.

That everyone loved him, that they’d be worse off if he was gone.

That he was a GOOD PERSON, who deserved to be alive even when so many others had ceased to exist.

Zeus’s punishment had laid it all bare to him.

The world did not need him.

The world did not love him.

He was not a good person.

He would have given up long before, if not for Artemis and Leto.

But even his desire to exist for them, so they would not have to mourn his passing, was dying out.

It kept him alive for all those months in that prison.

But that was all it could do.

And even that was fading with his memories of them.

NO

I pulled back from Apollo’s consciousness, just a little. I couldn’t separate too much, or I’d lose my sense of self again. But enough to escape the spiral Apollo was trapped in.

I couldn’t remember much. Couldn’t quite feel what I should. From connecting with Apollo, I had realized that *I* - what *I* was left - was just a fragment of a person. Just a remnant of once was.

But I knew that Apollo didn’t deserve to fade. 

He’d screwed up, no denying that. He’d done some terrible things, and ALLOWED even more horrible things to happen, things that even now he didn’t realize the horror of.

But beneath all of that, beneath his indifference, his arrogance, his selfishness, his guilt, his sadness... we weren’t so different.

I had easily connected with his soul. Even with my barely functioning memory, I could tell that while Apollo’s soul wasn’t my own, beneath it all, we were similar where it mattered most. 

If we had switched places, would I be like him, and him like me?

I didn’t know.

But it gave me hope.

I saw no way to save myself, but perhaps I could save Apollo.

Perhaps he could right the terrible wrongs I had seen in the background of his memories.

Children fighting to the death against monsters.

People cursed and killed because they had the misfortune to be in the crossfire of a spat between gods.

Apollo was not innocent in this.

But he was not a monster either.

I could feel it in the depths of my soul.

He could help the children.

He could help the innocents.

He could be a better person than he thought he was.

And, maybe... maybe that was good enough.

For now, though, I had to focus on keeping Apollo alive.

I’d seen the monsters he’d be facing, the dangers that awaited him in the mortal world.

Without his powers, with barely any will to live left, he’d be easy pickings.

Zeus had nearly broken his spirit. As he was now, Apollo would not survive. 

Lester...?

Ah. Apollo had realized I was still here.

I felt him instinctively reach out to my soul, to the dregs of memories I had left.

I opened up the connection, let him see what I saw, let him feel what I feel. Let him perceive his memories through my eyes.

And he found my memories too. Ones I didn’t even realize were still there.

Mum, bringing me soup when I was sick.

Dad, helping teach me how to drive.

Tyrone and Tyler hiding very poorly during a game of hide-and-seek (I didn’t let them know that I could see them behind the curtain. I just walked on by, letting them believe they had chosen the best hiding place in the world.

Getting down on my hands and knees and giving Katie Pegasus-back rides (they were 20% cooler than ponies she said.)

Helping Cameron with his homework, vowing to be the best older brother possible to him, and the best friend.

I felt him realize, in the depths of his soul, that I was a person too.

That I wasn’t just fodder.

That the mortals he had so callously ignored, had dismissed as being less important than him, than the gods - that we weren’t as different as he liked to believe.

The guilt that he had tried so hard to keep at bay, to keep hidden in the depths of his soul, crashed down on him.

He’d failed SO BADLY.

They’d all failed.

How could they not have realized...?

No. They realized. They just pretended otherwise.

It was easier that way.

His despair nearly engulfed me.

I’m a terrible person.

I deserve this.

I deserve much worse than this.

SO FIX IT, I screamed at him. You know better now. You can change things. But not if you die here. Survive. Learn. Grow. If you think you’re a terrible person, then BECOME a better one. But you can’t fix your mistakes if you’re gone.

I could feel him begin to rally, feel him begin to change course. But it wasn’t enough. With his own existing guilt and insecurity combined with Zeus’s abuse over the past several months, he still didn’t have enough left in him to fight back. With time and support, I believed that he would recover enough to stand up for himself and for others. So long as he had some means to combat his depression, his guilt. Someone to shout back the voices when they got too loud, to help him fight off the voices, until he was strong enough to fight them off himself. Someone like me.

I didn’t have that time.

Through my Apollo’s? eyes, I saw Zeus reach down his hand and pick me, Apollo,  us up. Everything was foggy, Apollo and I still adjusting to each other’s presence.

Then Zeus engulfed us in a fiery light.

The pain was worse than you could ever imagine. I burned from the inside out, Zeus’s flame targeting the last remaining scrap of my soul. Apollo attempted to shield me, to hide me from the flame by concealing my soul with the light from his own.

It wasn’t going to work. I could feel the flame licking at Apollo’s soul, causing him to scream as well. Perhaps Zeus didn’t want Apollo destroyed. But he didn’t believe that Apollo would truly sacrifice himself, put himself on the line to help save a mortal he’d just met.

I’d felt Apollo’s soul.

I knew better.

Apollo would burn to protect those he cared about.

I wasn’t going to give him the chance.

I was going to be destroyed. No avoiding that.

But I would undo as much of Zeus’s damage as I could first.

If I was going to be destroyed, some good would come of it. 

I dove into Apollo’s memories, racing against time. I wanted to help reinforce his positive memories, suppress the ones of the abuse and suffering he had endured. I couldn’t. Anything I touched, anything I interfered with, was at risk of being erased by Zeus’s flame. 

Instead I searched for his most recent memories, the ones that had finally broken him. These last few months did not need to be remembered. Zeus’ taunting would be for nothing. A twinge of satisfaction ran through me at that thought.

I found them quickly. Then I PULLED-

Pain. Boredom. Despair. And most of all

Loneliness.

Such utter loneliness.

My soul shuddered, and curled inwards. It hurt nearly as much as the flames had. No wonder Apollo had nearly given up, if this was the emotional pain he had been in all that time. I held on. Zeus wanted to erase me from existence? Fine. He would erase some of the pain he caused as well.

Apollo sensed what I was doing. We were connected. He knew my plan.

I felt my - no, his, I wouldn’t exist much longer, they were his now - mouth open as tears streamed down his face. 

“Please,” he rasped, voice rasp from disuse. “Please just... just leave him alone. Kill me if you want. But leave Lester alone. This isn’t his fault. He doesn’t deserve this punishment. Please.”

Zeus simply glowered at him coldly, the flames intensifying. “REMEMBER. THIS IS YOUR FAULT. YOUR PUNISHMENT.”

He was blaming Apollo for my fate, for the cruelty HE was inflicting on ME.

You are not responsible for this, I thought at Apollo. Zeus is, and Zeus alone. Don’t let others foist off responsibility for their own cruelty.

Just tell my family what happened. Please.

I had a feeling that if he could, Apollo would be sobbing. I will. I promise.

I was done with my work. I couldn’t let Apollo face the flames any longer. Already I could feel them burning through me, burning through the memories I had left behind. Burning through the epiphanies Apollo had experienced while connected to my soul. Everything the flame thought was me, everywhere it thought I might hide, it would incinerate. 

Apollo would not remember this. I didn’t see how he could keep his promise. He wouldn’t even remember that I existed. But I had to believe in him. I had to believe that he would come to the same realizations again, realize mortals’ worth. That he could fight through the facade he put up, through his own guilt, pain, and arrogance. 

I had done all I could.

I moved out from Apollo’s protection, into the path of the flames. Apollo tried to wrap around me again in a futile, last-ditch attempt to save me. I would not allow him to do so. He’d been hurt enough trying to save me. It was my turn to save him.

Distantly I felt Zeus hurl Apollo off of Olympus, flames still streaming from his body as they burned up the last ashes of my consciousness.

I had helped save someone.

I had helped...

I...

...

[walnut-kyun]

i. anemone [st. van]

genre: angst

pairing: reader (gender neutral) x geumhyuk

word count: 2.3K

summary: part one of the vav floriology series

[anemones: forsaken; loving someone even after they’ve stopped loving you]

You broke up with Geumhyuk on a Wednesday. It was an idea you had given considerable thought to, but when it came down to the actual occasion it was unplanned and unrehearsed. In a rare moment of resolve, you called him, heart thudding as you secretly hoped he wouldn’t pick up and you could take it as a sign that you could just forget about the whole thing. But he picked up on the first ring, as he always did.

“____!” The smile in his voice is palpable and you briefly wonder if you can just hang up and pretend you drunk-dialed him. “Great timing! I was just about to call you and ask about next Saturday! Wait, can we video-call?”

“No, I look disgusting,” you say, immediately. It’s not a lie, you do look disgusting right now, but he’s seen you at all your worst moments. It’s really because you know if you saw his face, your resolution would crumble like dried flower petals.

“I’m sure you look beautiful like you always do,” he says without a beat. “But it’s okay, we don’t need to video-call. Are you still coming down to Seoul next week? I still feel bad we didn’t get to see each other over spring break, so I was thinking we could go on a date, maybe ride our bikes along Han River and go to that new dog café!”

“I don’t like dogs, Hyuk.”

“Oh, I forgot.” The excitement in his voice dims at the uncharacteristic sharpness of your tone. “Okay, no dog café. Cat café? Wait, I think it got shut down because of health violations. Let’s see, uh, maybe an owl café? My friend recently went there, and he said it-”

“Geumhyuk, we need to break up.”

The words are out before you realize it, and now it’s too late to say you called by mistake, it’s too late to laugh and say you’d love to go to the owl café with him, it’s too late. Everything changes now. The realization is so strange and jarring. Just like with the words, I love you, time comes to a stifling halt, teetering on the edge of the moment before crashing into the future where nothing can ever be the same. You’ll exit the day a different person than the one who entered it, and that’s a little frightening.

There’s a long silence and you check your phone to see if he hung up. He’s still there.

“Geumhyuk?”

You can hear him inhale sharply and clear his throat. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” It’s a useless question, obviously.

“I don’t understand,” he finally whispers. “What… why? Why would you say that?”

You struggle to find a coherent answer. Why? Well, you definitely knew why, having spent countless nights asking yourself the same question. It was natural, you reasoned, for two people to fall out of love, especially when they only got to see each other once or twice a year. Seasons pass, feelings fade. But the words get stuck in your throat as you stammer this to Geumhyuk over the phone. It doesn’t help that he’s begun crying and you know exactly what it looks like since you’ve seen him cry many times. He cried when he failed the college entrance exam, and when he broke his leg, and the first time you said you loved him. You had laughed at him then. You’re so silly, you’d said, wiping his tears with your sleeve. You’re making me feel bad. I promise I’ll never make you cry again. Seasons pass, feelings fade, promises get broken.

“You don’t love me anymore?”

His question breaks your heart and your final remnant of strength. The familiar sting of tears pricks at the corner of your eyes.

“Of course I do, but not in the same way I used to. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” he says, in between broken hiccups and loud sniffles, but you know he’s lying. You need to plow on.

“Remember when we used to talk on the phone every night for hours, and never finished our homework? And we used to go on dates every Saturday, and you’d make the five-hour drive to come visit me in Busan, just because you missed me. And we went to hip-hop concerts and we thought we were both going to be doctors and open a clinic together.”

“____, please,” and he sounds exhausted. “We’ve been together for four years. Of course we’re going to change, but we’re still doing fine, aren’t we?”

“I guess, but… we’re so busy with college and we don’t have time for each other. I can’t remember the last time I spent more than a few hours with you, because you’re always doing internships abroad. Our dates always get cancelled because you need to finish a track, or I get called for a last-minute shift at the hospital. We like completely different things and want different things. You want to be a music producer, but I’m still doing pre-med. We’re so different now, and… I feel like neither of us really know each other anymore.”

“Do you really think that?”

“Geumhyuk, I found out that you compose tracks for a K-pop group by accident. You never told me. I didn’t even know you liked music production until that point.”

He’s silent and he knows you’re right. You had both been absent from each other’s lives as your college work became more serious, and he regrets it.

“I’m sorry,” he says after another long pause. “I’m so sorry, ___.”

“Please don’t apologize,” you rush to assure him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, these things happen to every couple. It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is!” he snaps. He rarely raises his voice around you, and it scares you every time. “How can you say that? It’s all my fault! I should have… I should have…” You can imagine him raking his hand through his hair in frustration, as is his habit. “If I had treated you better, this wouldn’t be happening!”

“Geumhyuk, no, this has nothing to do with the way you treated-”

“___,” and his voice has become almost desperate as he pleads with you. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you more, and I cancelled so many dates, but it won’t happen anymore! I promise! Just, don’t do this, please.”

He’s crying again and it hurts to think that this might be the last time you ever talk to him. This isn’t the way you want to remember him. “Hyuk, please. It’s not fair for you or me. I want you to be with someone who has time to give you the love you deserve, and right now, it’s not me. Please understand. I’m also really sorry, but we shouldn’t drag this on anymore. It will only hurt more later.”

Geumhyuk coughs. You wait for him to catch his breath after so much crying. “Okay,” he shakily agrees at last. “Let’s break up. But only because I love you.”

And time, which had been swaying precariously on the precipice of your decision, finally lurched forward and fell into a future where you and Geumhyuk were no longer together.

The next Wednesday, you come home tired and irritated. Everything had gone wrong that day. You had failed your molecular biology midterm (which you thought you’d done great on), left your jacket in the library, and spilled an enzyme solution and had to redo the lab, much to your lab partner’s annoyance. These were common happenings, but you had always had Geumhyuk and his infinite patience to offer you comfort and distraction in the form of cat videos. His absence from your life simply added a tinge of sorrow to the already unpleasant day.

“I’m home!” you announce, kicking your shoes off at the front door and throwing yourself on the sofa next to your roommate.

“You’re back late,” she says, not looking up from her paper.

“Yeah, I broke a vial in the lab and spilled stuff, so I had to stay after to redo it,” you grumble, nestling your head into her thigh. She sighs but doesn’t stop you. She hates how clingy you are, but is probably tolerating it because your freshly single status warrants cautious pity.

“Well, someone left something for you on the doorstep today. I put it on the kitchen table.”

“Really?” You hoist yourself up and stumble into the kitchen. A surprise package sounds like a welcome distraction from the day. But it’s not a package. It’s a large bouquet of red flowers.

“Who’s it from?” your roommate asks, craning her neck to get a look. She flashes you a mischievous smile. “Is it from a secret admirer? So soon?”

“Shut up,” you mumble. A small square of creamy cardstock is attached to the bouquet. To: ___ it reads. There is no mention of the bouquet’s giver, but you immediately know it’s from Geumhyuk. For a moment, the world narrows to a pinpoint where all you can see are the flowers, and there’s a dull ache in your chest from knowing he was here on your doorstep, and you missed him. If you hadn’t spilled the lab solution and had to stay late, would you have been able to catch him? Rationally, you know it would have been a bad idea, but even just seeing his back retreating down the street would have been enough.

“___?” Your roommate’s voice draws you back to the present. “Everything okay? You’ve just been standing there, staring at the floor for like, five minutes.”

“Yeah,” you say, snatching the bouquet off the table. “I need to uh, finish my lab report. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

You place the flowers on your desk and regard them from your bed. You’ve never seen flowers like these before. They’re beautifully red, round-petalled and clustered flatly around a wide, black stigma. You do a quick Google search. They’re not poppies. Trust Geumhyuk to pick the most uncommon kind of flower, you think with a sigh. You take a picture of the bouquet and send it to your mom, who’s always been overly passionate about botany.

A few minutes later your phone chimes with her response: anemones. Anemones? Aren’t those a type of sea creature? Nevertheless, you fill a jar with water and place the flowers in it. That night, you dream of gently swaying ocean plants and Geumhyuk’s face rippling along the waves.

The next Wednesday: two Wednesdays after the break-up. This time you are the one to find the bouquet of anemones on the doorstep. And this time, there’s a note.

“Floriology is a language communicated through flower symbolism,” you read aloud, making your way to the sofa. “Anemones have historically symbolized forsaken love.” You’re stunned by the message and the immaturity of his words. Forsaken love? As if you were simply a crush who had rejected him, and not his former girlfriend of four years. As if he was the only one left with feelings. You scoff and toss the flowers on the coffee table.

Truth be told, though, the pain was beginning to lessen each day. You’d had a lot more time to accept the decision than he had, having thought about it for months prior. By the time you had broken up with him, you were prepared. For Geumhyuk, on the other hand, the break-up was sudden and left him feeling unresolved. You understood, but still. You’d rather do without these kinds of petty reminders of his sadness.

It’s been a month now since you and Geumhyuk broke up. You received two more bouquets of red anemones in the two Wednesdays that passed. Even though you don’t appreciate the message conveyed through the floriology, or whatever he called it, you keep the flowers in water-filled jars around the apartment. Your roommate calls it “whipped aesthetic.”

On the fifth Wednesday, the one-month mark, you come home expecting to find a bouquet of anemones on the doorstep again. You don’t know how long Geumhyuk plans to keep this up, or how he’s financing the purchase and the weekly journeys from Seoul to Busan. You haven’t tried contacting him about the flowers, and he’s refrained from contacting you too.

Today, there’s nothing though. The doorstep is bare, save for the twisted welcome mat your roommate tripped over this morning. That’s good, you chide yourself as a small pang of disappointment settles in your stomach. It means he’s moved on. You remind yourself this throughout the night, but it doesn’t appease the fear that maybe he hates you now and wants to forget everything about you. He probably thinks I’m cold-hearted, you reason. How many weeks can this man send you flowers without you even acknowledging them, before he gives up?

That night your roommate throws your door open without knocking. “I’m so mad at you,” she glowers. She tosses a small bunch of pink azalea on your bed. “I don’t understand. I can’t even get a text back, but you still get flowers from your ex.” She shakes her head. “I’m going to bed.”

You wait for her to close the door before approaching the azaleas. They’re a little wilted and slightly damp. There’s another note attached to the stems, written on the same creamy cardstock.

To: ____. Azaleas are commonly given to loved ones as a request for them to take care of themselves. Some also believe they represent fondness for something you cannot return to. I gave you anemones, one for each year we loved each other, because I was afraid you would forget me. But I know you can never forget me, just like I can never forget you. Thank you a lot for loving me so unconditionally. Live a good life, meet a good person, and do good things. I hope you think of me in small moments of happiness – Hyukkie

Seasons pass, feelings fade. Hearts repair, and time begins to breathe again.

[cosmosogler]

hi guys. didn’t get much sleep last night either. i stayed up to watch adventure time like a nerd!!!! ZERO REGRETTI!!!!!!

i managed to get an extension on my homework due today so i turned that in at the end of the day. my day completely exhausted me though. took three hours to finish the assignment, on top of whatever amount of time i’d put into it so far. but i managed it!

we have another exam in that class in like two weeks. i’m gonna die.

after that i grabbed spaghetti with my classmates and then went to group therapy. literally everyone complimented me on a thing i said to two of the other members to remind them that even if the good times don’t last, it’s still important that they happened, and it still matters. 

it eventually got morphed into “if you’re happy once it’ll be easier to become happy again” as we played compliment telephone but that’s ok, whatever they want to take away from it. whatever helps them better.

after that i did the homework, and then i talked to harrison for a bit, and then i biked home... i made tacos for dinner but i didn’t use enough sauce mix (and too much olive oil) so they came out a little bland and on the oily side. that’s ok, i made up for it with tons and tons of lime juice.

then i sat down and FINALLY WORKED ON THE MAIN COMIC FOR A LITTLE WHILE. my drawing speed has plummeted in the last week and i only got two panels done (out of 21 for the scene) but, like... i dunno it was nice to be working on it again. i enjoy drawing the characters and tweaking the dialogue and having them interact with the foreground and stuff. i don’t really have the space to do that with notebook comics.

i also drew one more notebook comic, just one page, but it’s kind of in epilogue territory so i guess i shouldn’t post it. i like where the story leaves the characters at, development wise, but i feel like i might draw some little comics that take place in that final time period along with the full scene i have in the script. “reformed supervillain” is too fun a character archetype to leave it untouched.

the problem is, as usual, continuing to tell the story in order, because otherwise it would be very confusing for my readers. i’m so excited to get to the later stuff! even though i’m so excited to be drawing the scenes i am drawing right now too!! and i have all these little side stories i want to tell that don’t advance the main plot but give the characters more room to breathe so we can see different parts of their personalities!!!

i wish i had like, eighteen of me so i could be drawing all of this at once. the story isn’t, like, epic length, but it’s still gonna take forever. i’ll have to see what i can condense, more than i have already. most of the length, now, is from descriptions and specific dialogue bits i want to use (and the character thoughts i need to convey without being able to use a lot of words), rather than separate scenes. hopefully that’s a good sign. my arc 1 prompts tended to be 1-3 lines in ms word but arc 6 has an early (kind of short actually, should be 2 pages) scene that has 237 words trying to describe the mood i want. so i actually have no idea how long this story is going to be honestly.

anyway, tomorrow i gotta teach for hour hours, and go to the drc, and also somehow find time in there to do my stat mech homework. and, i guess, start studying for the em test coming up in two weeks. and keep up with my grading, which is still behind, despite the fact that i graded 11 lab sections over the last week! i’m only 3 behind right now. i’ll have two more tomorrow... ghghhghghghghhhhhh

something good today is that people seemed to genuinely appreciate what i had to say in group therapy today, even though i barely talked. i think i spoke up three or four times, and at least one of them was to make a dumb pun. 

so yeah. that was my day. it’s midnight now. i’m having some anxiety, as it happens. i REALLY want  to listen to music for a while longer but i know i shouldn’t... i’m so tired. 

[actuallyadhd]

[Photo: a white trans man wearing a headband with a unicorn horn and ears, with added fluffy rainbow cat ears.]

Hello! I’m Cy, a 29-year-old queer trans man. I was diagnosed almost exactly a year ago with “attention and concentration deficit” - which I think basically amounts to ADHD-PI. I’m currently on Concerta and Prozac, which has done wonders for my concentration and mood.

I’m telling my story here because I think it’s a great example of why ADHD awareness and acceptance is sorely needed. I was a hyper, forgetful, impulsive little kid - I was almost constantly in trouble for something or other, and being grounded was a regular part of my childhood. I wasn’t necessarily a “bad” kid, it was just that I did a lot of things without thinking. But I was an okay kid in school - I didn’t leave my seat, I could be quiet, I could at least pretend like I was following directions… I’d forget my homework a lot, though, and I was often up late trying to finish things, or scrambling to get assignments done the day they were due. But I was smart! Smart enough that I could get by with missing assignments or forgetting about a test I needed to study for, because the things I did remember and could concentrate on, I did well on. To be fair, I didn’t exactly have the best motivation to correct any of this - not only could I get by doing what I was doing, but I was aware that constantly doing well would raise people’s expectations, and that just wasn’t something I wanted to deal with. The things I did well on were things that were easy for me, and I learned to simply avoid the things I had problems concentrating on; procrastination became a defense mechanism to avoid the utter frustration of subjects I just could not grasp.

I was teased a lot as a kid, too. I looked funny, I’d say the wrong things, I’d mix up my words, I’d cry at the drop of a hat… I was an easy target. When I was 14…I snapped. At the beginning of 8th grade, I’d sort of made friends with this one girl, but a few weeks in, she’d ditched me for the Cool Kids. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened to me, but these Cool Kids were a group that bullied easy targets like myself, so she joined in. I ended up smacking her with my sweatshirt and running off to the end of the blacktop. That incident put me into anger management, which was the first place that the possibility of ADHD got brought up.

The therapist there gave me like a 10-question screening test, and I knew it was for ADHD. But the thing is, my understanding of ADHD was that it was what you called boys who couldn’t sit down and shut up. It was a “bad kid” disorder, and I didn’t want to be a “bad kid,” so I downplayed a lot of my struggles. Of course I have trouble finishing assignments and paying attention in class - I’m an athlete! I have swim practice every night! It wears me out! Oh yes, I’m doing fine in school - when I struggle, it’s because I just don’t want to pay attention. It’s all my own fault, really! I could do better! I’d internalized a lot of ableist rhetoric that blamed my struggles on voluntary behavior, and I’d found plenty of other reasons to excuse my inability to do what I was supposed to.

The therapist still found that I was “borderline ADD.”

After that, I used it as a joke, a coping mechanism. But it started becoming less and less of a joke as I started becoming more and more aware of my inability to manage things that seemed so easy for everyone else. By the time I was 20 or so, I was seeing a counselor at the community college I attended. I’d learned a bit more about ADHD and realized how much it resonated with me. I brought up the possibility to the counselor.

“I’m not going to give you the diagnosis,” she said, “because you’re too smart.”

Too smart. Me, who got a passing grade in pre-calc out of pity, who tried to go off to college only to be forced to drop out two months in because I’d lose my sports scholarship due to my poor grades, who kept having to drop at least half my classes every semester at community college because I just couldn’t keep up, who had almost nothing else to do but school and still ended up writing 3-page papers mere hours before they were due… Yeah, I managed to get by, but it was such a difficult, frustrating, exhausting existence… It devastated me, to be honest. By then, I knew she was wrong. I knew this was a part of me, a part of my struggles, but I felt like I couldn’t claim it because I wasn’t struggling enough - I was “too smart,” so I should be able to think my way out of this. I obviously just need more self-discipline, a better diet, better sleep…

I tried everything I could think of to manage my symptoms, but I couldn’t stick to a routine, and I had little to no motivation to do what I needed to do. It was too easy to make excuses for myself.

With my partner’s help, I did manage to actually complete my BA at the age of 27. I majored in psych, and for my final class, I did my paper on ADHD. I talked about the neurobiological components, the expression of symptoms across types, age groups, and genders, and the strides that have been made in understanding it from various perspectives.

Several months later, I had an appointment with a psychologist - somebody who was actually my age, who had the same modern understanding of it as I did. I told her of my struggles, of the “maybe, but no"s I’d gotten, of my understanding… I wasn’t even in school anymore, but even with a part-time job, I couldn’t get my butt in gear to do what I needed to. I’d spend hours playing sudoku or scrolling through tumblr, knowing full well I could be doing things I needed to do (like hunt for jobs…) or even other things I wanted to do (like write or draw or…literally anything else). I felt like a mess.

And she listened. She got me scheduled for a proper assessment and came back with the results, and that was it. A few months later, I was on Concerta (I got lucky that the first thing they tried worked beautifully for me) and I finally felt like I was in control of myself.

I’m still trying to get the right dosage, but I’m so much better now than I was. At this point, I know I wouldn’t be who I am without the struggles I went through, and as much as it frustrates me that it wasn’t treated sooner, I actually wouldn’t change the course of it. But I still don’t think it’s right that I had to go through that, and I don’t think it’s right that anybody else has to go through that. Nobody should be made to feel like their struggles aren’t real, like all their misery and frustration is self-inflicted. Nobody should have to fight tooth and nail to meet “okay” when they know they have the potential to be so much greater.

So for ADHD Awareness Month, I’d like to say: your struggles are real and valid, no matter your age, grades, or gender.

[nicoismywaifu]

Maki needs to go to sleep

Summary: Nico makes some ‘special’ coffee for Maki. Words: ~1.5k

Maki opened the door and entered the clubroom - from the looks of things, the only other occupant was a pink cardigan draped over the chair at the head of the table. But she didn’t have to wait long for their owner to arrive a moment later, peeking into the room as Maki made her way towards her chair.

‘Oh, it’s Maki-chan,’ said Nico. ‘Would you like a drink?  I was just making some tea in the kitchen.’

‘Some coffee would be great,’ Maki replied.

‘Coming right up!’

Hearing Nico bustle back down the hallway, Maki settled into her seat and yawned as she pulled out a textbook, a pen and a notepad to complete her schoolwork. Then after finishing that, she’d head off to the music room and work on a new composition. And then she’d go back home and do her tutoring homework…

She tapped her pen idly against the book cover. Where was everyone else today, anyway?

Returning with tray and cups in hand, Nico set the tray next to Maki before drawing the blinds open, the sunshine basking the room in a pleasant warmth. Maki yawned again.

‘Looks like someone could use that coffee,’ said Nico, giggling as she handed Maki her favourite mug. ‘Filled with Nico-Nii’s love, a special drink for her special junior!’

‘Gross,’ Maki said nonchalantly, before taking a large swig of her drink. ‘But at least the coffee tastes nice.’

Nico narrowed her eyes. ‘I wish adding sugar would make you less bitter.’

‘Unfortunately that’s not-‘ Maki stopped her retort, making a sudden wince and clutching at her head.

‘Oh?’ asked Nico, strangely lacking any sort of surprise. ‘What’s wrong, Maki-chan?’

‘Nico-chan…’ Maki slurred, peering into her mug. ‘Is there something different with this coffee?’

‘I don’t understand,’ Nico replied innocently. ‘What do you mean?’

‘My head’s getting heavy and everything’s becoming fuzzy from drinking it…’ Eyes widening with realisation, Maki gasped as she looked at Nico. ‘Wait, don’t tell me?!’

‘That’s right,’ said Nico, finally revealing a dangerous smirk. ‘You figured it out quickly, as expected of the future doctor-to-be.’ She leaned over the table towards Maki – close enough to see her purple eyes all hazy and out of focus. ‘I did something different with your coffee, Maki-chan. Tell me: what’s your diagnosis?’

Struggling, Maki could feel every brain cell straining, every synapse swimming in the puddle of thoughts her mental processes were melting into.

Becoming sleepy after Nico added something to her coffee?

She realised that there was only one answer.

‘The coffee…’ she mumbled, head slumping onto the textbook with a thud. ‘It’s… it’s decaffeinated…’

And that was all she could say before dozing off into a quiet sleep.

Nico pumped her fist in celebration: the make-Maki-chan-finally-get-some-damn-rest plan™ was a success.

She had noticed it recently - always yawning, bags growing under her eyes, Nico didn’t need medical training to tell that Maki was exhausted and remedying her problems with coffee. If Maki were to ever get a papercut, Nico would’ve checked to make sure she bled red instead of black.

So Nico had gotten everyone to agree to a rest day, as she now made sure Maki actually kept to it.

‘Oh, Maki-chan,’ Nico said, gently raising Maki’s head to wedge Kotori’s loaned pillow underneath. ‘You can do everything else so well, but you just can’t take care of yourself. But don’t worry! Nico’s here to care of you instead.’

The finishing touch was the blanket (what doesn’t Nico have in her bag), which she took care in wrapping around Maki’s shoulders. Maki didn’t stir an inch.

‘And… done!’

One graceful bounce backwards, she took a moment to admire her handiwork. And not because she was distracted by Maki’s borderline angelic sleeping face, looking so serene.

So even Maki can look like that sometimes, instead of permanently looking like she woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Probably because she had never went to bed in the first place, Nico mused.

It was quiet: Nico was struck with the thought that the only sound she could hear Maki’s breathing, and the room suddenly felt too still after that. It’s just not fair – there’s meant to be birds or the sound of sports teams going through afternoon practice or something.

It’s not fair that Maki gets to be so gosh darn cute without even doing anything.

So the fact that she’s only now noticing they’re the only two people in the room, and the only two who will be today makes her give an awkward, nervous swallow. As good time as any to reflect: why was she doing this, exactly? Putting herself through the strangely accelerated heartbeat that she hadn’t planned for?

She was just used to taking care of other people, like her siblings. That must’ve been it. That was all there was to it.

It wasn’t like Maki was special or anything…

Nico was just looking after her fellow μ’s member. Just taking care of her junior, who happened to be completely adorable and precious and beautiful and-

She shook her head to clear those thoughts (where did they even come from?), then looked at Maki again, this time with a different idea in mind.

Nico had self-restraint. She only kind of wanted to mess with a sleeping Maki. Okay, more than kind of. But taking one last look at Maki’s peaceful face was enough for her to decide not to ruin her rest.

Taking a photo to use as her phone background, though, was completely fine.

A few hours later, Nico logged off the clubroom computer, spun her chair 180 degrees and made a grumpy look at the still sound asleep Maki.

‘It’s been three hours, Maki-chan. How long are you going to take?’

Maki answered with only silence. That didn’t deter Nico from continuing.

‘You really were tired, huh?’ Nico gave a sigh, which somehow turned into a yawn by the end. ‘And now I’m tired as well. What are you going to do about that?’

Nothing, apparently, if Maki’s non-response was anything to go by. So Nico decided to take matters into her own hands.

To let you in on a secret, Nico wasn’t the coffee drinking type. (It makes your skin dehydrated, don’t you know?)  

Regardless, she picked up Maki’s long forgotten mug, took a sip of it and winced. And that wasn’t even the worst part. ‘Ah, I forgot. It’s decaffeinated.’

She crossed her arms in front of her and shivered, quickly retrieving her cardigan and buttoning it up. Still not warm enough, but that wasn’t reason enough to take the blanket from Maki.

Maki…

Nico then realised there was one other source of warmth in the room. And as she folded her arms onto the desk and rested her head on top, she had one last thought as her eyes began to close.

‘Wasn’t that an indirect kiss?’  

‘Nnngh…’

Eyelids fluttering open, Maki found herself with her head to one side and resting on a yellow pillow, slightly drooled upon. She felt so warm, the kind of warmth that doesn’t seem worth waking up from, but she groggily rubbed her eyes anyway before clutching at the object draped around her shoulders.

‘A blanket…?’ Gingerly, she got herself upright. ‘Did I fall asleep?’ she asked, figuring out the answer a moment later. ‘Oh. That’s right. Damnit, Nico-chan.’

Speaking of which, where did Nico go? It was already early evening, so her first thought was that she had gone home. And when she felt something snuggle close against her shoulder, her second thought was that Nico had burrowed her way beneath Maki’s arm instead. Maki yanked the blanket to cover Nico’s shoulder instead.

‘You’re the one who gets cold all the time, Nico-chan.’

She retrieved her phone from her blazer pocket and looked at the time. Then she put in back in her pocket. Then she checked it again to make sure she was reading it right.

‘I slept for that long?!’ she shouted, before catching herself and making sure Nico was still asleep. She continued in a whisper, ‘But I’ve got to work on my composition, and then finish off my homework, then…’

Trailing off, Maki’s attention turned to Nico instead. With her guard down and snoozing on the table, it was difficult to believe that she was the same girl who had tricked her earlier. She even managed to look grumpy as she slept. Giggling, Maki reached for her phone to capture the moment for herself.

Somehow, whatever work Maki had planned didn’t seem to matter right now. Instead, she began the delicate operation of placing Kotori’s pillow under Nico’s head without waking her up. And then Maki had a thought: just the fact that they existed meant Nico went to the trouble of preparing a blanket and pillow beforehand…

Rationally, the idea of a girl two years her senior having to trick her into sleeping and tucking her into a fluffy pink blanket should’ve been embarrassing. And it was, a little.  

Yet Maki didn’t dislike that idea.

Why was she blushing now that she thought about it? And her heart beating a little harder? She ran through the options, but she couldn’t find a medical term for what she felt.

‘Hey, um… Thanks for looking after me, Nico-chan.’

Nico had brought her a pillow and a blanket. (And even decaffeinated coffee.)

What could Maki give her in return?

Blushing harder now, she stooped to place the lightest of kisses on Nico’s cheek, before high-tailing out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Nico stirred from her sleep and groaned.

‘I wish you’d do that when I’m awake, Maki-chan.’