#i remember we were in the taco bell drive through and i could hear my heartbeat in my ears and they were like

[allowcase]

i miss when euphoria was airing and i was deep in addiction and i had to see my close friends and family discuss if addicts should have rights for a month straight

[cammy-mcspammy]

Tw vent, sch00l shootings, depression, mentions of S/A and abus3.. overdose, death talk?

Err, this post might be a little long- I'm writing out what happened.

I'm still processing this so I'm sorry if my art isn't sparkly cute or this isn't a pretty post. I normally dont speak about my life but I needed an outlet to speak about this. I'm still very shaken up so I'm sorry if this comes out randomly.

I uh, experienced something pretty traumatizing today. A party I was prepared for and even did my nails and freaked out about dresses and laughed with my friend groups basically just.. turned into hell. From the start theres videos of me at taco bell with friends, seeing and meeting up to music and all- before i realized i might of di3d today. And I HARDLY draw vent art or cry in front of people but- one of my friends ran up as the music paused and told us somebody had a gun. I just ran.

All I can really remember is calling my family and saying goodbye as I pushed by a crowd of people sobbing and screaming. It was horrible. I mean, I have a fear of death like no other and well- I was having about six panic attacks and adrenaline. I ignored all my friends shouting for me and just RAN. I don't know where, I just shoved whoever it was and hid.

I heard a few people in the group couldn't be found until much later and I was practically sobbing once I get out of a wall I was hiding behind, deciding to start calling my family. I could hear my mother trying to understand my sobs of "I'm so sorry" for everything. Even the abuse she put me through, I know i caused so much trouble for her too. I was practically sobbing out my goodbyes as my friends tried to comfort me. It was humiliating to cry in public, something I swore I'd never do again but SURE ENOUGH I was sobbing on whoever would comfort me.

I called my mom, and then my brother- who practically started screaming and sobbing about me. It made me comforted to see him rush out and drive to me, calling the police like so many others did, and sob to me like I was already dead. It was surreal, I could hardly notice the pain in my shoes or the stupid flowers my friends dad got me.

It was traumatizing. Just like my S/A or my parents abuse all together, i could see multiple cop cars and rumors spread around and I just felt numb? I couldn't breathe at all and all I could really do was sob again and again. I feared my life for the first time.

I remember when the music stopped I thought it was some fight. A kid already had gotten an overdose and two kids got caught getting handsy in a bathroom stall- I assumed it was some dramatic thing that happened at a party. Not a shooting.

When my brother rushed past a ton of red lights and my mother ran out of her party gathering, my father was already gone a country away getting his surgery. I didn't care, I called him and by all the stress and sobbing I thought he didn't care. I was so wrong about this and I'm honestly thankful nobody got hurt. I remember my brother just pulling over and hugging me when I got in the car, sobbing into my shoulder and freaking out more then I ever did.

He promised he'd buy me whatever I wanted, and I said some stupid fast food place. By the time we were far from the conflict and I called my family to tell them I was okay- it was weird. I just couldn't stop laughing and sobbing, when we got home we watched sonic and it felt so- surreal. Like I could of died and never got to see movies or my parents ever again. I was texting friends, informing people of what happened, and trying to understand through all these different voices what happened. But by then I shut my phone off and just let my mom cry into my shoulder.

I urge people to talk to their families and well- I don't know really. Take into account shit like this can happen, especially in private schools in America. Some idiot can threaten out their gun and ruin a night that was meant to be fun. This fueled my growing fear of death at every turn, so I fear this might make me fall into another depression pit. I already see my friends moving on and I feel stupid- so I wanted to vent about it to just- bring those feelings out there.

Love your family.

[macewindu]

i love music when i listen to AJR i remember the summer after my sophomore year of college where i had become INSTANT friends with this guy and was constantly messaging him despite me being in louisiana for an opera program and him being in hawaii with his family and i wanted to enjoy the same things he did because friendship to me has always been about sharing things and secretly i was a little into him but like. it came so easy i didn’t have to try for what felt like the first time i just enjoyed them i loved AJR and the silly Lonely Island movie and everything. and when i hear that song i still remember sitting in my car and listening to it for the first time on some random college campus that i was living at for a month. i remember movie nights with my friends where i��d scramble to find a charger so i could keep messaging him but my phone was dead from messaging him all day. i remember him staying up late to finish stickers of the kids be more chill cast that he was going to see but also staying up late because i had to take my friend to the hospital and was anxious and he didn’t go to sleep till after i was gone. i remember messaging him on stage because one of my scenes required me using my phone and i thought it’d be funny. i remember him basically being radio silent on social media, but messaging me pretty much every night. I remember deciding to visit the college he went to, which was 1200 miles away, for a completely different reason, and him saying we should go to lunch if I get a chance. I spent the whole time with him instead. We got drunk and I slept on his floor that night. I was the first person other than family and roommates to see that house, as they’d moved in just that week. He asked me not to leave the next day when I had to. I remember driving home, and on the way, he said it was ironic that we were like expensive headphones, of all things. I remember being scared to ask what that meant. I remember drinking two seagrams, and pretending i was super tipsy just to work up the courage to message him while my friend took us through the taco bell drive-thru to tell him i had feelings for him. I remember him telling me he would never ever do long distance. I remember that i couldn’t even be upset with him about that, that i was just okay with that and kept messaging him. the strings at the beginning of Sober Up just bring that summer back to me. anyway i’ve been married to that guy for a month today!

[holidaywishes]

She’s Adorable

  Requested: 👍

  Summary/Request: Loved the last writing omg it was so good !! Can I request one where you’re really really shy and Fred takes you to a team party and you sort of become really closed off and only stick to him? Maybe you slowly get used to Steph but after everyone let’s Freddie know that they thought you were adorable and actually really like you? If that makes sense? It’s okay if it doesn’t, thanks love !!

  Warning: fluff, a little bit of angst due to insecurity

  Author’s Note: I AM SO SORRY that this has taken so long! It’s been in my drafts since I got the ask but I wanted to put out a couple chapters of my Fred series before I wrote this and then it got a little buried. It’s a little short and maybe not exactly what you were asking for but I hope you still like it and that it makes you happy!

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  You and (Y/N) met about three months ago but you didn’t start dating until about a month ago. Which meant she hadn’t really ‘bonded’ with any of the team or their girlfriends yet but you wanted her to be able to stand her own with them because you knew once they got to know her, they’d love her. She was hard not love.

  “They’re going to love you!” you pleaded with her after she rejected your invitation to the team’s Halloween party

  “I don’t know, Fred...” she sighed, “I don’t know anyone well enough to like... feel comfortable...”

  “You’ll get to know them!” you tried again, “I promise, they’ve all been where you are”

  “But they’re not like me. The girls are all confident and like fit in super easily with everyone”

  “(Y/N), trust me. They will love you, you don’t have to be nervous.” You continued to plead with her, reassuring her that the team would love her and she’d have a bunch of new friends in both them and the girls, until she eventually agreed

  “Okay okay!” she laughed, “our couples costume has to be ah-mazing then”

  “Oh.. it will be” you laughed, wrapping your arms around her and kissed her forehead

“What’s your idea?” she asked with a smile

“Peanut Butter and Jelly” you said and she wrinkled her nose up at the idea

“Hmm nope”

“Wonder Woman and Superman”

“Hmm...”

“Beer and a solo cup”

“Creative but no,” she laughed, “we’ll just have to keep thinking about it.” After a couple days of tossing around costume ideas, you and (Y/N) had narrowed it down to Chucky and Tiffany from the Bride of Chucky or

“The twins from the Shining?!” you whined, earning a giggle from her, “you want me to wear a dress?”

“Yeah, it’s time for you to be the sexy one for a change”

“Are the twins from the Shining sexy?” he raised an eyebrow at you and you grimaced at the words

“No, they’re children... okay forget the twins. So I guess that means Chucky and Tiffany!”

“Great! Neither of us have to wear a wig!” He joked

“That’s exactly why I picked it!” she replied

“This is going to be a great party”

“I still don’t know...” she hesitated, “don’t go too far away from me. I might need an out...”

“I got you.”

xx

  “What if they don’t like me?” you whined to your best friend, Jennifer, as she helped you with your makeup

  “They’re going to love you!” she exclaimed

  “That’s what Freddie keeps saying,” you sighed, Jennifer nodding emphatically, “but I don’t know. I’ve met some of the girls when I go to the games and they’re all... they’re just not like me”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They’re confident without trying,” you started, “I think it has something to do with how pretty they are...”

  “HEY!” she yelled and you leaned back in your chair, “you’re beautiful. I don’t want to hear you say that you’re not pretty, okay?”

  “You don’t get it..” you tried

  “Freddie loves you, he thinks the stars rise and fall with you!

  “It’s not him I’m worried about,” you stood up quickly, walking to the kitchen to grab a drink, “it’s the team. Most of them are young and... superficial? I don’t know if that’s the word I wanna use but.. you know what I mean? They’re quick to befriend the girls who are there already because they’re pretty and tall and they fit this mold that all the other NHL wags seem to fit. I don’t. But I really like Freddie and I guess... I don’t know, I guess I’m worried that if his friends don’t like me, he’ll second guess our entire relationship.”

  “Sweetie...” Jennifer said as she made her way to give you a side hug and bring you back to the chair to finish your Tiffany makeup, “that’s not going to happen. Yes, this girls fit a mold, but you are so much more than some mold and Freddie knows that.” Just then, the doorbell rings and Freddie lets himself in

  “Tiff, baby, where are you?” he yells as he closes the door, laughing as he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, “my hair looks crazy...”

  “Just try not to stick to him all night okay?” Jen whispers as you turn the corner to meet your boyfriend, who had managed to get the Chucky look just right without any help; or so he says

  “Wow. You look... so sexy” he smiled and you rolled your eyes

  “Thank you. We should probably get going or we’re gonna be late.”

  “Aren’t you gonna compliment me?” he chided

  “You look great, babe! Just like a murderer-turned-psychopathic-doll!” you laughed and waved goodbye to your friend as you walked to Freddie’s car. When you got to the party, you asked Freddie to sit with you for a second before you went in

  “Just breathe. Everything is going to be fine.” And, as if his words were holding you up, you made your way into the house, ready to show off your confidence.

  “FREDDAYYY!” Willy and Penny greeted as you walked through the door, Freddie smiled awkwardly at the tipsy state that Willy already seemed to be in, “you two look great. Chucky and Bride of Chucky?” You nodded with a small smile, clinging to Freddie’s arm

  “And you are...?”

  “Taco.. Bell” Willy said as he pointed between his and Penny’s costumes

  “Clever” Freddie laughed before they walked past you to get another drink

  “OH MY GOD! I LOVE THIS!” Stephanie exclaimed as she met the two of you by the couch, “this is such a great costume for you guys!”

  “Thanks” you smiled. You had always liked Stephanie, she didn’t seem as uptight as some of the other girls could, which you always attributed to her and Mitch being together from the start. Even still, you weren’t overly familiar with her, “Morticia?” you asked

  “Exactly! My Gomez is around here somewhere...” she giggled as she scanned the crowd

  “I’ll be right back okay?” Freddie whispered to you, forcing you to squeeze him tightly to let him know that you were still nervous, “I’ll be quick, I promise.” He kissed the top of your head and was gone in an instant

  “AH THERE HE IS!” Steph shouted when she finally found Mitch, who was already on his way to her

  “HEY!” he said with a smile

  “Hey” you repeated, standing awkwardly for a minute

  “So.. who are you supposed to be?” he asked to break the silence

  “Tiffany... Bride of Chucky...”

  “So Freddie must be dressed as Chucky then. That’s awesome”

  “Thanks!” you yelled over the music, smiling when the conversation kind of ended there

  “We’re gonna go dance, wanna come?” Steph asked and you shook your head

  “I’m just gonna wait here for Fred.” They shrugged and left you to sit down. When Freddie didn’t come back right away, you began to feel like it was a mistake for you to come but you still wanted to try

  “Hey!” Nick greeted as he plopped down on the couch before. He was new, you were new, maybe you could actually have a conversation with him

  “Hi!” you smiled

  “I’m Nick!” he said, and you realized he’d completely forgotten who you were, “nice to meet you”

  “(Y/N), nice to meet you, too.” You sighed, deciding not to correct him

  “So... what are you?” his words were slightly slurred and you realized that he was probably edging on being drunk

  “Bride of Chucky” you responded

  “FREDDIE’S DRESSED AS CHUCKY!” he laughed, “OH SHIT! THAT MAKES YOU HIS GIRL!” You smiled awkwardly at his realization

  “That’s me!”

  “I’m sorry! There are so many faces to remember and I might be a little drunk right now” he confessed

  “No worries. It’s okay, I completely understand. I’m new too, remember?” you laughed, “I’m just gonna go find something to drink. You need some water?”

  “That sounds nice” he sighed and followed you to the kitchen, where you grabbed yourself a glass of punch and Nick a glass of water

  “THERE SHE IS! MY BRIDE!” Freddie yelled from across the bar before he made his way to you, “YO TIFF WHERE YOU BEEN?” He laughed at his impression

  “I thought you said you were coming right back” you said to him when he finally reached you

  “I did.. I said that...” he replied, nodding once to Nick who stood behind you, “but I wanted to see you chat up everyone”

  “Oh yeah? And you never thought to save me?” you smiled

  “You were doing fine...” he scoffed

  “I was sitting alone on the couch for like 20 minutes before Nick here re-introduced himself to me” you said

  “I’m sorry, baby, I got caught up talking to people. There were pictures...” he mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m here now.” The two of you spent the rest of the night together, you glued to his hip, while he spent the majority of the party doing more talking than you’d ever really seen him do. On more than one occasion, you found yourself lost in his smile and his laughter

  “So... have you started to drive her crazy yet?” Auston asked suddenly, forcing your head to jerk to look at him

  “No” you laughed as you scrunched up your nose at Freddie

  “Why would I?” Freddie asked

  “Well... I mean.. come on. The late night ‘practices,’ the long stretches without seeing each other, having to fuck over the phone...” you furrowed your brow at the words coming from Freddie’s teammate

  “What late night practices?” you smirked, trying to distance yourself from whatever Auston was trying to stir

  “You’ll find out when the team’s on the road fo--”

  “Alright, that’s enough!” Freddie interrupted, Mo helping him get Auston sobered up

  “He’s harmless, you know,” Alannah started, “just lonely. He also doesn’t want to settle down, so seeing Freddie in a relationship has him all confused.” You knew she was probably right and you trusted Freddie, but you had only been with him for a month, so who was to say that he wouldn’t do something while he was on the road. It wasn’t long after Auston’s drunken words that the party wrapped up and you said goodbye to everyone.

  “You know what he said... it’s not what you think” Freddie stammered

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing happens on the road”

  “I know” you whispered

  “I mean some of the guys do stuff but I’ve never..” he started, “I’m not that guy anymore.”

  “I know” you repeated, leaning across the centre console to kiss his cheek

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  You woke up to (Y/N) asleep next to you in your bed and your phone buzzing with a string of one line texts from your friends

  “Bring her out more often” Alannah sent

  “Why are you hiding her?” Nick said

  “I knew I liked her” Mo joked

  “Sure, she’s quiet but she’s sweet” Mitch admitted

  “I’m not a huge fan, she seems a little stuck up” Auston’s text read and you could only roll your eyes at his words

  “She’s adorable” Stephanie said and, for some reason, her approval seem to bring a sense of relief to you that you didn’t know you needed

  “You think so?” you sent back as you walked out of the room

  “Yes! I know I’ve met her before as just your friend,” she replied, “but seeing her with you was so sweet. Her little face lit up whenever you spoke or made us laugh, like she was so proud. It was so cute”

  “I’m glad you guys liked her,” you admitted, “she was nervous you wouldn’t.”

  “Well tell her we loved her. Tell her Auston is an idiot because he is.” You laughed at her last response just as (Y/N) woke up, stretching as she walked over to you

  “Who are you talking to?” she asked before kissing your neck

  “Steph”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” you smiled, “she says that everyone loved you”

  “Everyone?”

  “Yes. Everyone.”

  “I think Auston might have something to say about that” she raised her eyebrow at you

  “I told you everyone would love you and it would appear as though I was right. Again.”

  “Don’t be too proud of yourself, Fred. It was one party, where everyone was already very drunk”

  “It’s the drunks you have to please” you teased and she rolled her eyes

  “If you say so”

  “I do. Which means I’m right. They loved you, just like I knew they would. What do I get?” you joked

  “How about a kiss?” she smiled, walking over to you to lay a small peck on your nose

  “How about a lil more?” you teased, pulling her to sit on your lap

  “Like what?” she giggled

  “Like...” you started, your voice trailing off as you thought about what to ask for, “hmm, how about we spend all day in bed?”

  “I like that idea” she smiled, wrapping her arms around your neck, so you could carry her back to bed

  “Starting November off right.”

[cyberp-ssy2077]

Cyberparents 2077: A Day in the Life // Part Two: Afternoon (Johnny Silverhand x Female!V)

Part One

Link to AO3!

A/N: Part two is finally here! Google "shopping cart with car" to see tyhe kind of shopping cart V is using. It's a liiiiittle angsty, so I hope I did okay!

“We should have tacos,” Sam opined with great seriousness from her seat in the plastic car that took up the front of the shopping cart.

“Sure, but what kind though? Beef, fish…?” V ventured, scanning the aisles. She was just there to pick up a couple essentials, but her daughter made an extremely compelling suggestion.

“Bleh, no fish!” Sam giggled, tugging on her little steering wheel. “Can we have chicken?”

“Now, that’s an idea,” V smiled, turning the cart towards the back of the store.

As they made their way, collecting items on their list, they inevitably drew attention. To be fair, V was eye-catching enough on her own; with her edgy haircut, riotous hair color, dark lipstick, extensive tattoos, and alluring figure, she was unapologetically alternative and rocking it. When you pair that aesthetic with a child of all things, it’s so seemingly incongruous that it seems nigh-on unnatural, to some.

Of course, when you add Johnny to the mix and all three went out together, it didn’t get any better. Sure, they got fewer comments (likely because Johnny looked like he was ready to cut a bitch at any moment), but the looks they got were still penetrating in their intensity.

V didn’t mind terribly what other people thought, especially the closed-minded people who took issue with how she presented herself. It was beneath her attention. She knew that Johnny definitely didn’t give two shits. What she struggled with, though, was the agony of Sam having to learn how to rise above others’ narrow views and how to react to them. V cast her memory back as they walked through the store, and remembered the first day that there was a real tipping point in Sam’s understanding of the situations they ended up in when they were out as a family.

V and Johnny had been waiting outside Sam’s school, waiting for the bell to ring and for their little girl to run out to them, excited and beaming, as she did every day. They were chatting and joking amongst themselves, Johnny having tucked V into his side with an arm around her waist. As time crept by, it became apparent that the school security guard was shuffling closer in their direction as he stood idly by the school gate that separated the classrooms from the parking lot.

Anyone who knew them knew that V and Johnny were not the type to be intimidated. So, they kept to themselves and ignored the encroaching party, until he was mere feet from them and began clearing his throat noisily. Johnny, in true take-no-shit fashion, raised his chin and looked the man directly in the eye.

“There a problem?”

“I could ask you folks the same thing,” the security guard replied. “There are kids getting out of school soon, so I need you to stop loitering so that parents can pick up their kids.”

Johnny pulled down his aviators and fixed the security guard with a piercing look. “Yeah, and one of those kids is my kid. Once she gets out, we’ll go.”

The guard looked taken aback at this, mentally weighing his options, and he slumped back over to the gate and pulled out his walkie-talkie, glowering at them as he brought the walkie up to his mouth.

“If he causes a fuckin’ scene…” Johnny trailed off. The sharp trilling of the bell rang out not a moment later, and soon enough kids of all ages began pouring out of the gates. V and Johnny scanned the pre-school area, and after a few moments Sam walked out.

The scene played out in slow motion; Sam’s class was led out by her teacher, and the little girl began making her way over to her parents. V glanced back at the security guard. He was no longer sulking at his post, rather walking towards Sam and calling her over once it became apparent where she was headed.

“Are you kidding me?” V asked angrily, pulling away from Johnny and marching over to where her daughter stood with the security guard. As she got closer, she started to hear what he was saying.

“...wait with me until your parents show up, okay? Just want to make sure you’re safe and nothing bad happens to you.”

Johnny had followed her as soon as he connected the dots himself, and he was fuming. “If you don’t get away from my daughter, something bad’s gonna happen to you, pal.”

Hearing her dad’s voice, Sam turned to face him and smiled. She ran over to cling against his leg and he picked her up and held her on his hip; instinctually, he wanted to be closer to her and he knew that if he had her in his hands, there was less chance that this tool would end up with a mouthful of Johnny’s chrome prosthetic in his mouth. For her part, once Sam had digested the expression on Johnny’s face and the tone of his voice, she appeared to be very confused.

Before anything serious happened, Sam’s teacher stepped in and apologized profusely to V and Johnny for the security guard’s over-zealousness. On the way home, Johnny and V had to explain to Sam why someone might assume that she doesn’t belong with them, and it broke V’s heart to see Sam’s eyes so sad. Later that night, Johnny and V sat together, both emotionally drained and contemplative over the events of the day… That wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time that Sam had noticed and asked about it. They were in for a long road ahead of them.

Today in the grocery store, everything seemed to be going well enough until it was time to check out. As V and Sam went through the line, Sam decided to bring up one of her favorite topics of conversation: dyeing her hair. She wanted badly to have “pretty hair” like her mom, but so far Johnny and V had held off on doing that for her due to the dark color of her locks; in order to achieve any notable change, her raven-black hair would have to be bleached. Despite their own views on self-expression and rebellion, both Johnny and V were holding off a bit when it comes to going that far with their child. In the meantime, they had the secret agreement that they would get her some hair chalk for her next birthday so that she could still join in the fun.

“I wish my hair had pretty colors,” Sam sulked, looking up at her mom with big eyes. “Me and Estrella both want pretty colors.”

Estrella was Jackie and Misty’s little girl, and Sam’s partner in crime. The two of them were thick as thieves and twice as mischievous, and of course they were universally adored by their parents and their parents’ friends. They went to the same school, despite being separated into different classes, and they both took martial arts classes together.

“What are you talking about? Your hair is a pretty color,” V said, tickling Sam’s sides as she climbed out of the cart. She noticed that the woman behind them in line was giving them a curious look, but it wasn’t outright hostile yet so V put it out of her mind. She began checking out, going through the motions of swiping her card and loading bags back into the cart.

“I want my hair to be purple!” Sam declared, smiling big. “I want it to be purple all over, like in my room!” Purple was Sam’s current color obsession, so it was not news to V that it was also the choice for her future hair color.

“That sounds pretty cool, I bet you’ll look awesome,” V replied, brimming with affection.

An intrusive voice piped up from behind them.

“You look rather young, so I’ll give you this advice: parents shouldn’t encourage such things. You never know what she’ll be asking for next.”

V pasted on her fakest smile. “Thanks, but I didn’t ask for your advice.” Ready to leave, V quickly sat Sam in the traditional shopping cart seat, facing her, and looked to make her escape. Before she got too far, Sam’s little voice piped up.

“I think you would look very nice with pink hair, ma’am,” Sam chirped, grinning toothily. The woman blustered, clearly not having a response. V couldn’t help herself, laughing out loud as they left the store. She’d have to tell Johnny about that one later, he’d get a kick out of it.

The drive to drop Sam off was rather uneventful, and Sam was bouncing in her seat by the time V put the car in park. As soon as she was let out of the car, she shot off like a rocket to the front door, with V trailing behind. By the time V got up to the porch, her perceptive (or precognitive?) friend had already let Sam in with a smile and was offering a greeting to V.

“How’s it going? You’re glowing, having a good day?” Misty asked dreamily, examining V as she handed over Sam’s dojo/overnight bag.

“Yeah, something like that,” V laughed. “We’ve had a good day so far. How are you doing?”

Misty shrugged. “Can’t complain. Star’s been bouncing off the walls all day, you’d think she didn’t just see Sam yesterday,” she said, a light smile playing on her lips.

“All right, well mine and Johnny’s cells should be on if anything comes up. I’ve got groceries in the car so I’ve gotta run, but see you tonight!”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Misty replied, glancing over her friend once more with a knowing smile. “You gonna tell him tonight?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” V replied, a massive grin betraying her words. As she hopped in the car and started to drive home, she started to feel a tingling excitement grow within her. Now, just to get through the rest of the afternoon and the evening would come soon enough.

Part Three

[notveryglittery]

misc royality #2

summary: it’s basically the sleepover drive thru video lol wc: 900 / ship: royality! duh!! author’s note: i reblogged this post in october of 2018 and wrote like 200 words back then and never got back to it but i’m on a writing kick so here’s this? hope you enjoy!! 

— — —

This was ridiculous in about every sense of the word but Roman really couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. Logan called him ridiculous all the time so he might as well live up to it, right? Mostly, Roman just hoped he didn’t look stupid and raise any eyebrows for going into the same fast food drive through twice in one day. It had, at the very least, been quite a few hours now since he was here last. He just couldn’t get the employee out of his head. Roman tapped his fingers along to the beat of the song playing from the speakers, admiring how the glitter in his red polish caught the sunlight. He laughed under his breath and rolled his eyes. One compliment and he was smitten… Truly ridiculous.

The car in front of him pulled forward and Roman did the same, glad that no one had arrived behind him just yet. He turned the music off and leaned slightly out of the window, to make sure the conversation could go as smoothly as possible.

“Hi, welcome to Taco Bell! What would you like today?”

Roman was quite sure he recognized the voice.

“Uh, were you working earlier by chance?”

“Yes…” A pause. “I was?” It sounded hesitant and Roman hurried to continue, not wanting to come across as a complete weirdo.

“You were— Okay, I came by and I ordered a beefy five layer burrito with no sour cream and I think you complimented my nail polish and I just wanted to know if you wanted to have a sleepover tonight?” Had he said it too fast? Would the employee even remember him?

“A… a what?”

“A sleepover!” Roman repeated, enthusiasm coloring his tone and overriding his nerves.

“A sleepover?” They sounded confused but excited.

Roman tried to reign his hopes in before they could get too high. “Yeah!”

“Really?!”

“Yeah!” Roman said again.

“When?”

“Tonight,” Roman suggested, finally giving in and letting his hands happy flap against the steering wheel. This was going so much better than he thought it would!

“Can you come up to the window?” The employee asked with laughter in their voice.

“Yeah!” Roman said once more, higher pitched suddenly in his joy.

With still no car behind him in the drive-thru, Roman pulled up to the second window with confidence thrumming through his veins. He felt sort of bad for not actually ordering any food this time but he could always get a Baja Blast or something if necessary. He shifted gears into park, just in case the conversation took longer than his foot cared to be pressed on the gas pedal. He leant out his window again, chin propped up on his hand, and put on an effortlessly charming smile while he waited.

Soon enough, the drive thru window slid open, and there the employee was. Roman could see now the name tag read Patton and specified he/they underneath in smaller print. Roman hoped it was okay to assume the blue bracelet Patton was wearing, though, was a clue that today was a he/him day.

“Hi,” Patton said, giggling a little.

“Hi,” Roman echoed, wishing science had made it possible to bottle sounds so that he could hear that laugh for the rest of his life. “I’m Roman. Sorry if this is weird?”

Patton shook his head. “I’ve had weirder, trust me.”

Roman could only guess what that meant and for a moment, righteous anger on Patton’s behalf flooded through him. However, Patton smiled and anything bad in the world melted away.

“Were you serious about the sleepover?” He asked, seeming shy about it.

“Absolutely!” Roman exclaimed. He flashed his hand, letting his nails catch the light. “You’re never too old for makeovers and romcoms and gossip!”

“Wine and baked goods too, right?” Patton offered, from shy to sly in a moment.

Roman swooned.

“I clock out in two hours. Would it be okay to meet at the Starbucks across the street?”

Roman nodded fervently. “Of course! We can stay there awhile too, if you want. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not sure that you could,” Patton reassured sweetly.

Roman had flirted and been flirted with a lot in his time but this? This was going to kill him.

“Will you get in trouble if I don’t buy something?”

Patton waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it! At least you aren’t asking for a refund.”

“Okay…” Roman hesitated, loath to end the interaction. “I’ll… see you in two hours, then?”

“I’m looking forward to it!” Patton promised before glancing behind Roman’s car. A customer had arrived during their chat. “Oh. Back to it then. Have a nice day, Roman!”

Patton waved him goodbye and Roman really had do his best to focus on actually driving safely back out onto the road. The Starbucks date will go swimmingly, bonding over sugary drinks and cake pops; they’ll swing by the grocery store next to buy wine and pastries, Roman laughing over every one of Patton’s food-related puns; the sleepover itself is more fun than either has had in a good while. It’s a lovely start to their friendship and a solid road to possibly more. Until then, Roman will sing along loudly and happily to his music on his way home, looking forward to the future.

[why-do-i-like-you-ya-dumb-bean]

Prompt time!!!

Here is a Rejanis prompt that my friend @elphabuddy sent me! I loved writing it. Hopefully it’s turned out well! 

Regina does something that strains her back and turns into an absolute bitch because she’s too proud to admit that she’s in agony (or that her back even gives her issues anymore). Janis connects the dots and takes care of her.

From upstairs Janis heard a loud thud from the George’s basement and then a tone of voice she hadn’t heard in over two years but had been hearing since she had gotten to Regina’s. This though was the harshest it had gotten.

“Jesus fucking christ Gretchen can’t you do anything right?!” Regina yelled.

By the time she made it downstairs, everyone had frozen and there was ear crushing silence. Janis being on the stairs was able to take in the whole sense. The gang had been rearranging Regina’s basement since getting back from their first year at college. All of them surprisingly had chosen to work at the same local grocery store. They figured once they finished post secondary things that they might drift apart and wanted to have this time before full adulthood would likely pull them apart.

“Regina I-I’m sorry I really thought I had a grip on it.” Gretchen frightfully stammered out. 

“Don’t say sorry to me! Say sorry to Janis! It was her TV that you dropped!” Regina said, throwing an arm towards the punk. Janis watched with slight surprise as a twinge of pain crossed the blonde face. Well that’s interesting. Janis thought. 

“Hey guys why don’t you all head home for the day? Regina and I can take over. We’ve pretty much reached my stage of the design anyway.” Janis said casually. There was a moment of pause before five bodies started moving. Gretchen, still looking frightened, tried to stammer out an apology. Janis wrapped her in a bear hug and whispered in the brunette’s ear. “I know that wasn’t your fault. If you could before you go, find her rice heating pad and put it in the microwave for two minutes that would be awesome. Then just toss it down the stairs. No reason to come back into fire before I calm her down. Okay?” Janis waited to feel Gretchen nod before releasing her to go upstairs.

As soon as the basement door shut she turned her attention to Hurricane Regina. “I’m fucking fine thank you very much. Everyone’s just been showing their ineptitude today and it’s pissing me off!” Regina bitched.

“Oh of course.” Janis said finally walking over to Regina, her arm crossed tightly. “It wouldn’t have anything to with the fact that you’re in pain right? That hasn’t turned you into a raging bitch before.”

“I’m fin-” Regina tried to say. But when she swung her up to point in Janis’s face she gasped in pain.

Janis rolled her eyes and stepped into Regina’s space. The punk had noticed during their senior year that Regina couldn’t really handle Janis in her space. It made her all flustered and would cause her to just start rambling. It confused the hell out of her for a bit, but while on their first college winter break Janis’s suspicions were confirmed when the blonde came out as pansexual. From there Janis tested the boundaries to see if it was just girls in general or just her that could cause nervous Regina. Through some “research” she found it was really just her and the slightly emo drive thru girl at Taco Bell that got the blonde all riled up.

“What did you do to your back?” Janis asked pointedly, putting her hands on her hips giving the blonde a once over.

“I didn’t do anything. I-I’m fine.” Regina huffed. That ever familiar pink tone was on her cheeks. 

Janis smirked. “Oh cool then let’s try and lift the TV and take it upstairs since it’s probably broken. We can put it back in my truck.” Regina’s eyes trailed to Janis’s and glared. “What’s wrong? If Gretchen was really the one that caused it to fall, then with me helping you it should be fine.” Janis watched the fire fade from Regina’s eyes and saw a glass come over them.

“Jan… I’m sorry.” Regina said with a hitch in her voice. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I-I-I…” 

Before Regina could flounder more Janis wrapped the girl in her arms. “It’s okay you stubborn idiot.” 

“But it’s broken. It was expensive.” Regina mumbled into Janis’s shoulder.

“I won it at a school raffle. We can paint the wall white and all pitch in to get a projecter for like a hundred bucks. It’s gonna be fine Reggie.” Janis said softly while rubbing her friend’s back. “Now will you please tell me what’s wrong with your back. Remember I’m going to school to be a physical therapist now.”

“I still can’t believe you’re giving up art.”

“I’m not?” Janis said, pulling away from Regina a bit but still keeping a hand on her shoulder. There was a silence. “Did I not tell you my plan?”

“No? Did you tell everyone else?” Regina asked, looking hurt.

“I thought I told you at Hecki- Oh shit you were sick that day. Reggie I’m going to school to be a PT and will be incorporating art into it. There’s been a surge in the desire to incorporate art into PT because it can really motivate people that are struggling. I can have my cake and eat too, don’t worry.”

“Jan that’s so cool I’m so proud of you.” Regina said, seemingly in aw. Janis watched Regina carefully. The blonde’s bottom lip was being captured by her teeth and was definitely giving her a very slow once over. “Can you really help me?” Her tone was quiet but somehow dangerous. 

It made heat flow through Janis. “I can try. This past semester was all about muscles.”

“Well that’s good because I fucked up some muscle in my upper back this morning trying to move the couch by myself.” Regina said rubbing the back of her neck while wincing.

Janis gaped. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m a strong independent woman who wants to impress girls by saying I move huge objects by myself.” The former queen bee said, quirking an eyebrow at Janis.

Before Janis could answer the basement door opened and down flew the heating pad. “Oh goody.” Janis said excitedly. She grabbed and brought it over to a shocked looking Regina. “You hate asking for help but if it’s offered you typically say yes… especially if I offer it. So I had Gretchen find this.” 

Regina rolled her eyes but there was a very present blush on her cheeks. “You lowkey know me the best so whatever. Why that?”

“Lay face down and just relax.” Janis commanded pointing to the couch. There was a pause and a defiant look in Regina’s eyes. “Now.” Janis said, cocking an eyebrow and tilting her head. Janis watched in satisfaction as Regina huffed but heeded Janis’s words and laid down, her face turned out to the punk. “Now where does it hurt princess?” 

“The upper right kind of by my shoulder blade and close to my spine.” Regina whined. 

Janis poked around the area until Regina took in a sharp breath. The punk felt around a bit more and realized there was a huge knot. “Jesus. Did you really just do this today or have you been doing dumb shit for the last week?” Janis asked peering down at Regina who had a guilty look on her face.

“I may have taken a few extra shifts at Barts. And those shifts might have involved stocking.” Regina mumbled. Janis placed the heating pad on Regina’s shoulder and the blonde let out a satisfied groan.

“Regina Blaire.” Janis said, shaking her head. “You need to be more careful. I don’t want to be getting phone consultations when we’re older because you decided to be reckless.” Janis flopped onto the ground facing Regina. 

“Who said I’d be calling you for help?” The blonde sassed.

“Well you called me this past semester for your boyfriend’s knee so I’m pretty sure I’ll be getting more calls.” Janis said, the slightest bite in her phrasing of ‘boyfriend.’ She looked away from Regina. She hated that she felt a little jealous of that boy. It fell silent for several minutes.

“Henry isn’t my boyfriend you idiot.” Regina smirked, breaking the silence.

“Oh sorry fuckbuddy.” Janis said, rolling her eyes.

“Ugh grow up Jan. He’s not that either, he gay dumbass.” Regina laughed.

“He’s- oh… well that’s cool information.”

“You really thought he was my boyfriend?”

“Well yeah you were calling each other babe so I just figured…”

“Well you figured wrong. And even if he was straight he’s not my type. I’m more into brooding artsy idiots who think they know everything.” Regina said cockily, giving Janis an obvious once over. 

Janis let out a nervous laugh and stood up. “Okay I think that’s enough heat for now. Let’s see if things have loosened up.” Janis pressed around the area and things had gotten less tense, but it wasn’t necessarily going to be fun for Regina. “This isn’t going to be like a spa. You’re going to be in some pain while I release the muscle.”

“Honestly you could saw off my arm and I’d be fine with it so long as the pain will go away. I haven’t been able to sleep for a couple of days.” Regina said bluntly.

“Why haven’t you gone to the chiro yet? They’d be able to fix this in like one section.” Janis asked.

“Well as you know my dad is trash and left us and mom doesn’t get her insurance until two months into working for some dumb reason. We still have two weeks to go.” Regina said casually.

“Oh right.” Janis said pushing into the knot. Regina let out a hiss quickly followed by a groan. “Too much?” Janis asked nervously. She knew what she was doing but still this was Regina. She didn’t want to cause more harm.

“N-no it’s fine. Do whatever you need to do. If it gets too bad I’ll tap out.” Regina said, hissing out the last bit of the sentence as Janis pressed in a little harder than the last time.

“Okay. Well I’m going to warm up the whole area a little bit before I really dig into the knot. So just breathe evenly and relax.” The artist said gently.

“I thought this wasn’t like a spa.” Regina teased.

“Yeah well I changed my mind. Plus my professors would kill me if I just tried to yeet this knot out of you without a little bit of a warm up.” Janis laughed as she ran a hand up to the back of Regina’s neck and slowly kneaded the muscles while resting the other hand on her lower back and pushed ever so slightly to stretch. The other areas were nearly as tense as the blonde’s shoulder blades. She applied more pressure to Regina’s neck and circled the tense muscles until they relaxed. Regina let out a gentle hum and Janis smiled. The punk moved both hands to either shoulder and began loosening the muscles there as well. Everything was so tense. “Jesus Reggie you need to get a professional massage. You’re as stiff as a board.”

“Why waste my money when I have you?” Regina said in a dreamy tone.

Janis felt blush creep into her face. Before she could stop her brain she spoke. “Who said this was free?” She managed in a smooth tone while pulling a soft sigh from the blonde.

“How much should I venmo you Jan?” Regina asked sarcastically.

Janis let out another nervous laugh. Jesus christ what was wrong with her? “A dollar is fine. It’s a flash sale today.” She said far less smoothly. She looked down at Regina and caught a smirk on her lips. 

“That’s reasonable.“ She sighed.

Janis rolled her eyes at herself. Smooth, very smooth Sarkisian. She let out a huff and tried to center herself. She spent a few more minutes loosening the muscles around the knot until she felt confident that it would detangle with the least amount of pain possible.

“Okay Reggie the not fun part is about to begin.” Janis started circling the knot gently. “You ready?” Janis looked down and caught Regina nodding her head. “Okay to start I’m going to hold my thumb in the center of the knot and push for a bit and all I need you to do is take deep breaths for me.”

“Okay.” Regina hissed out as Janis’s thumb began to sink further into the stubborn muscle. 

“Reggie, take five deep breaths for me.” Janis said. She watched the blonde back’s heave and hitch with each breath as she applied slightly more pressure with each hissing exhale. On the fifth breath Janis added her other thumb and slightly jostled them. She felt the muscle starting to release and pressed down harder knowing it needed just a little bit more. Regina let out a pained whine and whimper. “I’m almost done Reggie I promise. Just take as big a breath as you can and exhale slowly. I’ve got you.”

Regina whined again but complied. As the breath came up Janis pressed down harder than ever. Her heart skipped a bit hearing Regina’s muffled cry as she exhaled. Halfway through Janis felt the stubborn knot release and heard some strangled satisfied noise come from the blonde who had buried her face in the cushion. Janis very slowly started to circle out and away from the where the knot and been and gave Regina’s back a once over to make sure nothing else was messed up. A non-muffled sigh caught Janis’s ear and she looked down to see a blissed out Regina.

“Wow that was amazing. Thank you Jan.” Regina sighed while sitting up on the couch.

“It’s no problem I got some practice this past semester.” Janis said plopping down next to the blonde.

“Ohhh those girls must have been lucky.” Regina said with a smirk, turning so she was facing Janis better.

“What-oh geez-no no that’s not-it was for the muscle class. People paid like ten bucks to come be live practice dummies.” Janis said frantically. 

“Speaking of money…” Regina said while taking her phone out of her pocket. “I need to send you that dollar.” The blonde giggled.

Janis immediately tried to grab the phone. The blonde moved her arm away. “Regina Blaire you’re not sending me money.”

“But you provided a service. I need to repay you somehow.” Regina said with a pout, still holding the phone out of reach and placing a hand on Janis’s sternum trying to keep her just far enough away.

“No you don’t. Put the phone away!” Janis demanded, still reaching. But she stopped when she felt a grip on her shirt. She looked down and found Regina’s hand. When she looked at Regina there was a very mischievous look in her eyes. Janis was trying to speak but Regina was leaning very close to her and her brain and mouth had decided to take a vacation. 

The blonde was only a few inches away from her and still had a grip on her shirt when she spoke in a warm low tone. “Really? There’s nothing I could do to say thank you?”

Janis couldn’t believe what was happening. Where’d useless pansexual Regina go? Janis was supposed to be the slick one. She had a whole plan! The punk’s brain wasn’t firing so the plastic spoke again. “I have an idea that I think you’d like but it does also benefit me so I don’t know…” Regina pulled her bottom lip between her teeth ever so slightly, leaning even closer. “What do you say Jan? Will you accept my form of payment?” 

Janis was starting to wonder if maybe she tripped down the stairs. But against her doubts she just nodded her head. Regina giggled excitedly and pulled Janis into a kiss. The punk immediately melted and placed a hand on the blonde’s hip. It wasn’t too long before Regina pulled back. The pair locked eyes and Janis couldn’t help but pull the blonde back to her for just a second longer. 

“Am I going to have to fix your back every time I want one of those?” Janis asked dopily, finally able to find words.

Regina giggled and rubbed her chin thinking. “Hm I think if you say yes to a date tomorrow night at Ula’s, all requests for kisses can be free of charge.”

“I think that’s a pretty good deal.” Janis snickered before pulling Regina in for another kiss. She knew changing majors had been a good idea.

[omigiry]

Marry me?

synopsis: The uncertainty of what lies ahead makes people hesitate to take a step further.

warnings: slight mention of broken relationships of reader’s family.

POV: Third person (she/her)

ry’s notes: gets a lil’ bit sad in the middle, just a pinch of angst  🤏

Bokuto was a nervous wreck their entire date, his palms would get all clammy and he would always space out. His mind was so occupied that (name) had to call his name twice to get his attention, it didn’t only happen once but this is the fifth time now. Bokuto had planned for a whole day out on a Saturday, since the early morning he went to (name)’s apartment, they watched some videos on the internet or played some mobile games until they finally went out as scheduled on his plan.

He would put his hands in his pockets when it gets sweaty or he would rub it together. He was so excited to finally ask her hand in marriage, he already received blessing from her family all that’s left is for her to say yes. They were friends for the past 6 years and had been dating for 3 years, he wanted more and he was a hundred percent sure that he could picture a future with her.

“Kou? Are you alright? We could go home if you don’t feel well.” (Name) suggested, concerned for her boyfriend who was acting differently.

“No, it’s okay. I can manage.”

Bokuto took her to an amusement park, it’s been years since they last visited one. Not only that, this was their first date when they were officially in a relationship. They also talked about how they wanted to visit an amusement park again.

“There’s so many new rides now. Some of the old ones are replaced.” She pointed out. There’s a lot of extreme rides now for adults to enjoy. It may have turned to an amusement park for their group age rather than for kids or teens.

“Yeah. A lot has changed over the years. Come on let’s ride that one!” Bokuto pointed at the drop tower so he could avoid talking to her, if it goes on he might vomit because of his nervousness.

After riding their second one, Bokuto felt a little relieved. A part of him relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the day. When they felt exhaustion kicked in their system, they decided to enjoy the sunset.

“Where are we eating?” She asked. Her head was resting on his shoulder as she played with his hand.

“You up for tacos?” He asked. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but he prepared all the things she likes.

“I’m always up for tacos.” She looked up at him and smiled.

He didn’t plan anything grand for his proposal. He just wanted a simple day with her, reminiscing the moments they shared together.

“Do you remember the time when we went to a zoo?” Bokuto asked.

“Yeah, the owl seemed pretty attached to you when you petted her.” She remembered the time when they saw the owl and the keeper allowed them to touch it. The owl snuggled in Bokuto’s hand when he reached out. “Not gonna lie, felt a little jealous.” She joked.

Bokuto laughed at the end of her statement. “Do I need to remind you again that you’re the only one for me?”

“I also remember that I kicked your ass when we went surfing. You really sucked at it.”

“It’s hard to balance on water!” He defended. He was good at a lot of sports, but doesn’t do well in any water sports. “I prefer a stable ground.”

The drive back home was loud at the first hour, singing along to songs and laughing at their embarrassing stories they haven’t shared to each other yet; a while later (name) dozed off. Bokuto glanced at her sleeping figure and couldn’t help but smile fondly at her.

It was moments like this that made him sure that he wanted her to be his wife. He would want to wake up every morning next to her, he wants to fall asleep as she brushes his hair using her fingers, and he wants to drive you around to places that would make you happy.

Bokuto woke her up when they reached her apartment. She unlocked the door and when she did, she saw her living room filled with string lights and with pictures attached to it hanging from the ceiling. She hasn’t noticed yet their close friends who were hiding from the dark.

“What is all this Kou?” She asked and turned around to see him leaning on one knee. Her brows furrow as she takes a step back.

“(Name). I want to spend every second of my life with you, I want to wake up to every single morning and fall asleep every single night besides you.” He started his speech and (name) stood there as a feeling of dread creeps in her. “Will you marry me?” Bokuto said after his speech, looking nervously up to meet her eyes.

“Koutaro. I-i’m sorry.” She said, before she ran out from her apartment and went to her mother and sister’s apartment. It wasn’t far from hers but it would still take a 15 minutes walk.

When she left Bokuto was left dumbfounded, their friends who were hiding came out.

“Bokuto, are you alright?” Akaashi asked him.

Bokuto wanted to chase her, but it might lead to something worse.

All of them comforted Bokuto and tried to contact (name) but she couldn’t be reached. Minutes later, Bokuto received a text from (name)’s sister that they were on their way to their family owned bakery.

“I gotta go.” He told their friends.

“Bokuto, you’re not in your right mind to drive right now.” Akaashi stopped him. “Let us accompany you to make sure nothing happens.” He offered and Bokuto agreed.

Once he arrived he stopped by the door and saw (name)’s back was facing him. Her hands were on her face as her shoulders shook. He knows that she was crying. Her sister was rubbing her back, and her mother saw him outside and gestured for him to come in.

He slowly opened the door hoping the bell wouldn’t make any loud noises. Their friends follow behind him. As he gets closer he hears that her sister was asking her questions.

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes, I am afraid!” She bursted, she looked at her sister with pained eyes. “Our mother got left, you got left, and that doesn’t excuse me as well. We all get left behind!”

“We were unfortunate in love, but it doesn’t mean that you will be too.”

“No. Life doesn’t want us to be happy. Life always ruins everything for us when we’re too happy, and what if life doesn’t know this is happening and when it does it’ll take it away from me.”

“(Name).” At the sound of a familiar voice she tensed up. She felt a hand on both of her shoulders and was slowly turning her around.

“Koutaro. I’m sorry but I can’t do it. You know my family’s background. My father left us, my sister’s soon to be husband stood her up on the day of their wedding. All of the men in our lives eventually left us.”

“I’m not like your father or your sister’s ex-fiancé. I will always be here. I will stay.”

“Words! Those are just words!” She stood up trying to run away again, but Bokuto was quick to react and grabbed both of her hands tightly and blocked her way.

“Do you trust me?”

“I do Kou, I trust you more than I trust myself. I might do something that will make you run away!”

“Nothing could ever make me love you less.” He said. His tone was so desperate that his voice was shaking. “You already told me that you dream of me being your husband.”

“And it was supposed to stay that way! A dream! Nothing more. My dreams don’t come true, Kou! Everytime it will, there’s always something bad that will happen! Life seems to find a way to push me back to the ground, and if I become happy it wouldn’t last!” (Name) was frustratingly screaming at him as tears ran down her face.

“I want to invite life into this important event of our lives. If it doesn’t want to, then let’s forget it and make the future we want to happen! I’m willing to risk it all.” Bokuto’s hand was tightly holding hers, afraid that if she let go she would be gone too. “I want to take a leap of faith. I know everything you’ve been through, and I will be there for whatever life throws at you.”

She searched his eyes through her tear filled vision. His eyes spoke it all, it was telling her that he was sincere, it shows nothing else but sincerity and love. Bokuto lets go of his hand, and for a minute she thought that he was already tired. She thought that he already gave up.

Bokuto stretched his arms out and closed his eyes. “Are you jumping or what?” He hopes that he gets his message and that if she accepts she would gladly fall into his arms that waits for her.

(Name) looked at her sister and her mother for an answer, but they only said that it was her own choice. Bokuto was a constant person in her life. Everything that had happened to her mother and sister had an effect on her relationship with other people, she would only keep her circle of friends small and it took time before she could finally open up to someone. Bokuto became the man she could rely on, he was always there, and she didn’t want to lose that. If he was willing to risk for her, then she would too. She’s still afraid of what will happen, but she’s more afraid to hurt Bokuto.

After an internal battle with herself, she wrapped her arms tightly around Bokuto’s frame. Bokuto let out a sigh of relief, the heavy weight on his shoulder finally lifted and embraced her.

“You don’t have to fight alone. I’m here.” He said and stroked her head to comfort her. “Will you marry me?” He tried again. This time she nodded and whispered a “yes” that he could only hear, wishing that life didn’t hear it in order not to ruin this perfect moment.

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommates AU :)

Chapter 11 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

Happiness Feels a Lot Like Sorrow

Present

Dean was doing his best to uphold his end of the scotch-induced bargain of Monday night. At the very least, he told himself, it would make the next week more bearable, with Cas lingering in his apartment at all hours.

He’d still been making himself busy. He spent twelve hours at the shop on both Tuesday and Wednesday, trying to catch up on the work he’d missed while he’d been out. Bobby had saddled him with the worst of the lot; Honda Odysseys and GMC Yukons that needed tire rotations or oil changes before enormous families made their Christmas treks. He’d started on Cas’s car, but hadn’t gotten much further than getting the old timing belt off.

By the end of his shift on Wednesday, he was exhausted. It felt good, though, being back in the shop, music accompanying him (at a decidedly lower volume than normal), his hands constantly occupied, mind numb from the easy work.

As he drove home from work, a sign in a shopping center caught his eye. Before he knew what he was doing, he was pulling into the parking lot of a local bookstore. He turned off the Impala’s engine and walked into the store, not entirely sure what he was looking for.

It was by impulse, really, that he picked up a copy of The Great Gatsby. It was a special edition, with extra content bound up at the end. He remembered Cas saying something about that book once. It seemed like a reasonable gift.

Dean almost put the book back on the shelf three separate times before forcing himself to the checkout counter. He paid for the book in a hurry, tossing it into the back seat when he reached the car. Stupid, he thought to himself. He wasn’t even one-hundred-percent sure that Cas still liked that book. He supposed, if he chickened out, he could just give it to Sam, instead.

When Dean arrived at the apartment, Sam announced that he was picking up Taco Bell for dinner. Dean and Cas replied “crunchwrap” at the same time when Sam asked them what they wanted. He raised his eyebrows and the synchronicity, but didn’t say anything, just made a note in his phone. Cas went bright red. Dean stared resolutely at the ground.

Cas was sitting in the armchair with a book as Dean sunk into the couch, exhausted from two long days in a row. The history channel on. Dean wrinkled his nose and punched in the numbers for the Food Network.

“You watch the history channel? By choice?” Dean asked, feigning disgust.

Cas smirked as he closed his book. “I wasn’t really watching it,” he said, “But on occasion, I do like to listen to the conspiracy theorists on Ancient Aliens.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s what you and Sam do all day? Nerd out over crazy historians?”

“Mostly,” Cas said sarcastically. Dean snorted.

“You sure you don’t want Sam or I to drive you home for Christmas?” Dean said. He’d made the offer the day before, but Cas had refused.

Cas sighed. “I’m sure. I appreciate the gesture, but Christmas with my family is the last disaster I want to saddle with myself after…” He waved his hand generally.

Dean nodded. “You still talk to any of ‘em? Your family.”

“Occasionally,” Cas said. “My father called yesterday to ask your same question. I suspect he suddenly feels quite guilty about his treatment of me, considering accountants make quite a bit more than small-town preachers.”

“He’s worried about his retirement fund?”

“Most likely. I do still talk to Anna, though, on a regular basis.”

Dean felt a memory pull at his brain. “She’s the, uh, the therapist, right?”

Cas smiled to himself. “Indeed.”

“I’m assuming you’re spending Christmas at Bobby’s?” Cas asked after a beat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “The usual thing. It’s always a good time.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “I’m glad.”

Dean drummed his fingers against the side of the couch. “You know,” he started, and he was already regretting it, “Sam wants you to come. To Bobby’s. For Christmas.” He cringed. The words sounded lame, like he’d made the whole thing up.

“He does?” Cas asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, but I told him it’d probably be weird, you know,” Dean said with a shrug. “Big crowds aren’t your thing, and all.”

Cas eyed him. “Why didn’t he ask me himself?” He wondered. “We spend a lot of time together.”

Dean stared at the TV. “I dunno, that’s on him.”

Dean could still feel Cas’s eyes on him. “Is this your way of inviting me to spend Christmas with you?” He asked.

Dean nearly fell off the couch. “What? No,” he rushed out. “I mean, it’s not… Not with me. With everyone. I dunno, if you’re gonna be here anyway…” He cleared his throat. “I mean, Christmas alone is kinda shitty. Especially in this shithole,” he added as he gestured at his apartment. “You can come if you want,” he said finally. “Everyone would probably be happy to see you.”

Cas was staring at him, staring through him, like he always did. Dean turned his attention back to the cooking show playing on the television.

“What?” Dean snapped.

“Nothing,” Cas said, tilting his head. “Déjà vu.”

Dean’s chest tightened at that. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “What d’ya say?”

“Okay,” Cas said eventually. “I’ll come, unless that would make you uncomfortable.”

Dean’s head snapped up. After everything, he hadn’t really expected Cas to say yes. “Uh, no, man, like I said on Monday. New start.”

“Right,” Cas said slowly. “And you don’t think we should talk about why we need a ‘new start’, as you say?”

Dean glowered at the TV. “Nope,” he said. Did he always have to make everything difficult? It had been three years, and Dean truly wanted nothing more than to forget about all of it. He didn’t want closure, he didn’t need closure. Neither of them did, seeing as Cas would go back to his glamorous life in less than a week, anyway.

He could feel Cas’s eyes on the back of his head, but he ignored them. “If that’s what you want,” Cas said, his voice resigned.

Dean sat up, then, finally facing Cas. “Don’t you?” He asked, unsure if that was a question he was ready to hear answered.

“I suppose, in a way,” Cas said.

“What the hell does that mean?”

It was Cas, now, who looked away. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “Nothing important, anyway.”

Dean wanted to pry, but knew he would be a hypocrite if he did. He got up and moved to the kitchen for a glass of water. He brought a second one to the living room for Cas, who uttered his thanks.

“You ever finish that thing you were working on in college?” Dean asked.

Cas raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were on a clean slate. ‘Forgetting about everything.’”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, that doesn’t count.”

Cas took a sip of his water. “If you’re referring to the pages that are sitting in your bedroom at the moment —” Dean winced “— then no.”

Dean shot him a confused look. “Why not?”

“I… Lost the inspiration,” Cas said carefully.

“Oh.”

Cas regarded him thoughtfully. “You ask me a lot of questions,” he said. “Am I allowed to do the same?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Dean grumbled.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “I mean, will you become willfully taciturn if I ask you questions about yourself?”

Dean was ruffled at being called out so bluntly. “No promises,” he muttered.

“What has your life looked like the past three years?”

Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Not real interesting,” he said. “Working for Bobby during the days, bartending at nights. Saving up money for Sam’s college. Living here.” He shrugged. “Pretty normal, I guess.”

“Do you still bartend?” Cas asked.

“Nah, I quit that when Sam got his scholarship,” Dean replied. “I make enough at the shop to cover what that money won’t.”

Cas smiled. “That’s quite impressive.”

“I’m just a mechanic.”

“I meant paying for Sam’s college.”

Dean felt heat crawl up his neck. “Not a big deal,” he said.

“I would have thought you were on your way to settling down,” Cas said slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. “But that doesn’t appear to be the case.”

“No,” Dean said, and this conversation was getting dangerously close to acknowledgement of their history. Dean didn’t dare look at Cas. The fact that he thought, after everything, that Dean would be anywhere close to “in a relationship” was downright comical.

Dean, too, chose his words carefully. “I could say the same about you,” he said. “Unless there’s some guy waiting for you in KC,” he added, realizing he couldn’t possibly know otherwise. “Which, if there is, he’s kind of a dick for not —”

“There’s not,” Cas interrupted.

And that was surprising.

Dean hadn’t realized it until that moment, but he had fully expected Cas to be halfway down the road to marriage by now. The fact that he wasn’t erupted feelings that Dean wasn’t entirely ready to face.

“How’s the eye?” He asked, changing the subject.

Cas put three fingers up to the bruise, which was looking less black and more like splotches of blue and green. “Better,” he said decidedly.

“Good,” Dean replied.

They stopped talking, each turning their attention to the program playing on the TV. Dean had a brief moment of disassociation, watching the scene from somewhere beyond himself. It was strange, he thought, to be sitting in his living room with Castiel Novak, two twenty-somethings living vastly different versions of the same life. Inexplicably, he felt the same thing he’d felt when he was eighteen, lying in the dark, talking to Cas across the room. He felt known, he felt seen, like each and every part of him was open for voyeuristic display. It was nothing Cas had said, nothing he had done, it was just him. The way he pushed and pushed against Dean’s shoddy walls while somehow managing to meet him in the middle, every time.

Dean was grateful for the distraction of food when Sam returned. Dean was quiet during dinner, finding comfort in an observatory role. He wondered at Sam and Cas’s closeness, after only a few days spent holed up together. He rolled his eyes when the two of them began communicating in sign language, because of course Cas knew sign language. When Cas’s eyes flicked to Dean after Sam signed something, and the two of them laughed, Dean huffed and gathered the trash to take it out.

It was a frigid night, his breath visible in the low gleam of the floodlights. He tossed the bag over the side of the dumpster and paused. He dug in his pocket, and, finding both his lighter and a pack of cigarettes, lit one up and leaned against the dumpster.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he stood there, taking long drags until the end of the cigarette burned his fingers, and then just standing, staring into the parking lot.

“Dean?” A gruff voice called, and he turned to find Cas standing across from him, a tan trench coat thrown haphazardly over his black t-shirt and jeans. He cocked an eyebrow at Dean. “What are you doing?”

Dean dug the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket in answer. “Smoke,” he said.

Cas gave a short nod and made his way over to the dumpster. He leaned against it, next to Dean, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. Dean gave him a sidelong glance, but Cas was looking straight ahead, deep in thought.

“You and Sam seem to be getting along,” Dean said, his voice gruff.

“Your brother is extraordinarily kind,” Cas said in reply, not bothering to look at Dean. “He talks about you often,” he added.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well,” he said, but didn’t complete the thought. He hadn’t bothered to throw on a jacket, and he shivered as the wind blew straight through his thin flannel. Cas was standing close, their elbows almost touching, and Dean could have been eighteen again. He could feel it, somewhere deep in his stomach, that same bundle of nerves and excitement that had always come when Cas was just a little too close. He almost shut his eyes against the strength of it, but he willed it away, looking at Cas instead.

Cas still wore that intent expression on his face as he stared off into the distance. “Hey,” Dean said, elbowing him in the arm. “You creating world peace over there or something?”

The ghost of a smile. “No,” Cas said. “I’m just thinking.”

That was vague. Dean raised an eyebrow. “’Bout what?”

Cas side-eyed him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean rolled his eyes and made a motion with his hand that said, go on.

“It’s just strange,” Cas started, wrapping the coat tighter around himself, “That I should end up stranded here, in Lawrence, of all places.”

Dean resisted the urge to pull out another cigarette before continuing this conversation. “I guess,” he said.

“Stranger still that your shop should be the one closest to me at the time.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, it’s kinda weird,” he said. “I never expected… Well, that’s why I hit my head, anyway.”

Cas whipped his head around to look at Dean in confusion. “What?”

And, yeah, this was embarrassing, but Dean couldn’t exactly stop now. He rubbed the back of his neck. “When I heard you talking to Bobby,” he explained, “I just kinda… Well, I was pretty friggin’ shocked to hear you, of all people.”

Cas stared at him. “Oh,” was all he said.

“So thanks for this,” Dean said, aiming for levity as he pointed to the soon-to-be scar on his forehead. He smirked.

Cas faced forward again. “I didn’t mean to shock you,” he said. “Actually, I had no idea it was you under that truck.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “What, even after you talked to Bobby, you didn’t figure it out?”

Cas shrugged. “The life I always pictured you might be living was very different than the one you live.”

Dean immediately felt defensive. “Okay, asshole, my life is —”

“I didn’t say ‘better’,” Cas interrupted. “Just different.”

That shut Dean up. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway, “What did you picture? For me?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Nothing very specific. I suppose a girlfriend, a good job, doing something you like, in a place that you liked. You used to speak so fondly of Texas, I thought maybe you’d moved there. You told me, once, that you had thought about engineering. I usually pictured you like that, an office job. A stable life.”

Dean was watching Cas paint that picture. An office job, coming home to some faceless girl and planning his life around the possibility of an okay-marriage and two-and-a-half kids, waking up at forty and wondering what exact point in his life had lead him down this road. It looked wildly unsatisfying from where he stood.

He just made a grunt of understanding. “Well, you were way off, pal,” he said.

Another small smile, like it had almost been contained. “Apparently,” Cas said.

“You know,” Dean said, uncomfortable with the attention placed on him, “You didn’t turn out how I thought either.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well after… You know, I read that thing you wrote. And it was good, Cas, it was damn good.” Something lodged itself uncomfortably in the back of his throat as he recalled the nights he spent wondering where Cas had been, what he’d been doing. He coughed. “I guess I just expected that, by now, you’d have published it. Made a shit-ton of money and bought a douchebag-sized house in, like, Ohio, or something.”

“You make it sound like it’s disappointing that that isn’t the case,” Cas said, and, though he was giving Dean a smirk, his eyes looked sad. Dean felt a pang in his chest at having caused unintentional pain.

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Not… I dunno, I guess… I thought that writing stuff made you happy. And…” And you deserve to be happy, even without me. Dean had the words, they were right there, but he couldn’t say them, couldn’t take that first step in bridging the now-unacknowledged divide between them. “Well, it’s not like I pictured you depressed or anything,” he said instead.

Cas turned to look at him. “Are you happy, Dean?”

The gravity of the question, the look in Cas’s eyes, curious and almost pleading, sucked the air right out of Dean’s lungs. And there was something screaming at the back of his brain, that no, he wasn’t, that he hadn’t been, that he could never be, because the one key ingredient to that happiness was —

“Yeah,” Dean replied in a small voice. “I guess so.”

Cas stared at him for a moment longer, still searching, before dropping his head and turning away.

“Are you?” Dean asked, almost defiantly, as if the question had been a test that now he was forcing Cas to take.

“I’m very fortunate,” Cas said carefully. “If I am unhappy, it is of my own doing.”

And that totally wasn’t an answer, but Dean let it slide. It was cold, and his back hurt, and he was tired from a long day at work. Silently, he pushed off the dumpster and began to make his way back to the apartment. Cas joined him, settling into a comfortable gait by his side. The air was languid between them, like it was too heavy to move.

Dean let both of them back inside and Cas excused himself to take a shower. Sam was watching something on TV and raised his eyebrows at Dean’s re-entrance. Dean just ignored him, settling onto the couch, thinking about fate and happiness and whether or not the two might be connected.

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

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@nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers @fortiusnitius 

[jalapeno-princess]

Mark Tuan x Reader

Genre: Some angst, fluff, Surgeon Mark! (Lord help me)

Summary: You’re five months pregnant and practically on your own with your pregnancy when your fiancé gets a promotion. However, he fails to notice the distance between the two of you, nor does he understand how bad things are between the two of you until you make the announcement that you’re going to be staying with your parents for a while.

A/N: I don’t know if y’all have seen Jane the virgin or if you have heard this song (On tiktok) but it honestly fucks me up (and makes me cry over the boyfriend I don’t have) but I watched a tiktok about a single mother going through pregnancy and parenthood alone (You go sis you deserve the entire world men aren’t shit) and this just sort of came about (The idea of being domestic with Mark makes me want to scream @ God send him my way)

“Hey, why are you still up y/n? It’s 3:30 in the morning. That’s probably not good for the baby.” Your fiancé put his briefcase down before heading towards the fridge to look for something to eat. Mark was one of the head surgeons in the hospital he worked at, which is why he would find himself returning home at random times of the day. 

Some days he came home in the afternoon and other days, he came home at midnight. As proud as you were of him for working so hard and dedicating his life to saving people, you wished he paid more attention to you, your relationship and your growing belly. You were five months pregnant at this point and when you first found out about your pregnancy, you were over the moon.

From the time you and Mark first started dating back in college, you knew he was the man you wanted to settle down and spend the rest of your life with. Which is why you felt on top of the word when he finally proposed to you and found yourself only a few months later sitting in your bathroom, waiting patiently for your pregnancy test results. It was as if everything seemed to be falling in to place for you and Mark. You knew your fiancé loved you with every fiber of his being. No matter how many times he would tell you how madly in love with you he was on a daily basis, he never failed to show you through his actions. 

Just a few months ago, he had gotten a promotion to lead surgeon in his department. After seeing him cry and stay up many times during his residency, you knew all the blood, sweat and tears he went through to get that position was worth it. However, the more time he spent at the hospital, the less time spent with you. At first, you didn’t care because you knew how dedicated he was when it came to being a surgeon. But you felt as if you were the only one putting effort in to your relationship and in your pregnancy. 

You checked all your messages and your call log; you were the one sending all the texts and calling him all the time. You were the one attempting at having a conversation with him and trying being intimate with him, but your plans always seemed to fail. You knew that he was exhausted and you tried your best to be understanding that he had a job that drained away all his energy. For the last week and a half, the two of you have been going at it over the smallest things and you were sure it was because the both of you were both so tired.

Pregnancy was wearing you out and there were days you found yourself suffering alone. It seemed as if the only time the two of you shared together was spent arguing and disagreeing on things. He would complain about the place being messy, how you would leave dishes in the sink for him to clean and how you would fail to throw empty milk cartons away. Then came the complaints about work and you felt that he took out all his stress on you. As much as you wanted to listen to him vent and be his shoulder to cry on, it was more like being his punching bag and you were getting tired of the way he was treating you. 

When you found out you were pregnant, you were hesitant on telling Mark only because you didn’t want him worrying about you when he had other things to focus on. However, when you finally did get around to telling him, to say he was excited was an understatement. He’s been dreaming of having a big family from the time he was little. Since he was surrounded with so many nieces and nephews, he couldn’t wait to have little ones of his own. He made a promise to you that he would be there for you for every little thing you needed. During your first trimester, he did pretty well with keeping his promise. 

Whenever you were hungry, he cooked whatever you were in the mood for and one time he found himself driving to Taco Bell at three in the morning just to get you a quesadilla. If you had to pee, he wouldn’t hesitate to bring you to and from the bathroom no matter what time it was. He would massage your shoulders to get you to relax, prepare baths for you when you had a long day and even talked to your belly from time to time in order for your child to recognize their father’s voice. He still had a hard time believing that him and his favorite person were going to have a little one of their own in just a few months. 

Although the two of you had yet to find out the gender of your baby, he began buying things he thought they would need just to be prepared and he even purchased things he felt you needed. That’s how you found yourself with a body pillow, twelve different pairs of maternity clothes and three different stomach warmers. He also bought every pregnancy book Barnes and Noble had to offer. 

Unfortunately, that all changed as soon as he got promoted. Since his schedule was constantly changing, you’d find yourself attending your appointments with your parents or sometimes by yourself. He tried to get his friends to go with you, especially because you were pretty close with them too; but you hated being a burden on people. Plus, it didn’t feel right having them attend the ultrasound of a baby that wasn’t theirs. 

Every time you got to see how quickly your baby was growing, it never failed to bring tears to your eyes. You were extremely happy to see their tiny tittle frame growing bigger as the months went by. However, you wish Mark was there to celebrate with you. It was getting harder for you to move around as you were getting in to the middle of your second trimester and some of your body parts began getting swollen. You felt like you were all alone in this and Mark wasn’t around enough for you to tell him how you were feeling. 

It was in those moments of being alone in your bed where you would find yourself crying at the thought of how life will be like when your baby finally does arrive. If Mark is already absent like this during your pregnancy, what more when you finally gave birth? The first few months after your baby arrives are apparently the hardest and you had a feeling you were going to go through all of that alone. Which is why you made the decision to sit your fiancé down and tell him your plans. As much as you hated being away from Mark, it wasn’t like he was ever around much these days anyways. 

“We need to talk.” Mark pulled his head out of the fridge and looked at you in curiosity. Those four words never led to anything good, so he was worried you had bad news and he wasn’t quite in the mood to hear it. He almost had two failed surgeries that night and wanted nothing more than to sleep. Before he could open his mouth, you beat him to it. “I’m going to stay with my parents for a few weeks.” For some reason, he wasn’t surprised. He knew something like this was coming. You were always an independent woman, you had such a good head on your shoulders and it was one of the many things Mark loved about you. That was the reason why he wasn’t in shock when told him of your decision. 

Although he hid it behind a poker face, deep down his heart was breaking. Mark hated the distance between the two of you and as much as he loved his Job, he hated that it took him away from you. He didn’t think the two of you would end up like this, distant to the point where you could be considered strangers. Looking at him, it didn’t feel like you were staring at your fiancé; the man you’ve been in love with your years. It was as if you were looking at someone you didn’t recognize and the thought made you feel numb. When did things get this bad between the two of you? 

“What? Why? When?” You released a frustrated sigh before making your way to the couch. Your body felt as if it was about to pass out at any moment and you were afraid of things taking a turn at the worst. 

“Why? Are you seriously asking me that right now? I’m almost five months pregnant Mark and I’ve been practically going through this pregnancy by myself. I’ve been going to all the appointments by myself and I’ve been having to take care of this house by myself. You’re never around and I can’t keep doing things on my own. I’m stressed, lonely, tired, depressed and frustrated all the time. All I want is to fall asleep in your arms and for you to reassure me that everything is going to be okay. But everything won’t be okay, will it? Look at us Mark. We’ve been arguing almost every day for the last week, we can barely hold a decent conversation hell, I can’t even remember the last time we shared a genuine kiss. Pregnancy is supposed to be such a beautiful and exciting experience but lately all I ever seem to do is worry and cry and I have no one to comfort me. I understand that you love your job and I’m very proud of you for all that you’ve accomplished. But it seems that you forget you have a fiancé and a baby on the way. I don’t think you’re ready to be a father Mark—“ 

He furrowed his brows before looking at you in disbelief. Sure, he hasn’t been that involved in your pregnancy, but he didn’t think that made him a bad father. The reason why he’s been working so hard and so often was because he wanted to be able to provide for both you and your baby before it arrived. He wanted to make sure you both were financially prepared for the baby. If he knew it was going to take such a negative toll on your relationship, he wouldn’t have agreed on taking up all those extra hours. 

“And you’re ready? Look y/n, I’m sorry. I’ve been a shit fiancé and I’m sorry, but don’t you dare say I’m not ready for parenthood. You may be the one carrying our baby and I’m very thankful that you’re being so strong in a time like this. But I’ve read every book and bought everything our little one needs—“ 

You scoffed. “Of course not. I’m scared out of my mind but I’m handling it better than you are. Oh, and that’s supposed to be enough? God Mark, how stupid can you be? Admit it, you love your job more than anything else. More than you love me and probably more than you’ll love our baby. Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true. If I’m already going through my pregnancy by myself, I’m sure it’s gonna be like this once the baby arrives. You’ve always been my number one priority Mark. I always want to put you and your happiness before anything else. But then I came to the realization that maybe I’m not important enough for you to do the same. Our baby is my main priority now and I think staying with my parents is the best option for the both of us. My mom was the one who offered and I was hesitant at first. I hate the thought of being apart from you, but you’re never around anyway, so what’s the point? I need to be around people who can give me the support and attention I need right now.” 

Mark hesitantly looked up at you and felt a tear fall down his cheek as he took in your appearance. It was obvious that you were tired beyond belief. You had dark circles, your eyes were red and swollen as if you had been crying and even though you were pregnant, you looked like you’ve lost quite a bit of weight. He knew he was the reason why you looked so fragile, so small and he wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole. How could he have done that to you? Mistreated you, neglected you, not give you the help you need during your pregnancy? He felt like such an idiot. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but he had nothing to say. What do you tell your pregnant fiancé when you’ve been absent in everything going on in her life? No amount of apologies would ever be enough and he was afraid to say the wrong thing. When you noticed that he was just standing there in the kitchen and not saying anything, you sauntered off to your shared bedroom and reached for your bags you’ve packed just a few hours prior. The tears were hot as they fell from your face but you continued to grab your things. After taking a few minutes to breathe, you made your way back to the living room only to find Mark in the same place you left him. But this time, he was crying. You could hear his quiet sobs when you were in the hallway and immediately stopped moving. 

Mark could be extremely sensitive sometimes, but he never cried because of you. He never had a reason to. However, as he gave you your space and allowed you to do whatever it was you were doing in the room, he couldn’t help but think you were leaving him. Permanently. As much as he tried convincing himself that you just needed some time to yourself, he couldn’t help but feel this was a sign of the end of your relationship and he obviously was not going to let that happen. He’d give you your space, he’ll allow you to do whatever you need in order to satisfy you. But there was no way in hell he was letting you go. Not only because you were pregnant, but because you were his person. You meant everything to Mark. He couldn’t care less about anything other than you. He’d give up his job and settle for a shittier one that paid way less if it meant being able to spend more time with you. 

He was too deep in his thoughts and self pity that he failed to notice you re-enter the living room and when his eyes landed on your suitcase, his sobs grew louder. “Are you leaving?” You looked at him with so much sadness in your eyes and nodded slowly. “Me. Are you leaving me?” Once those words fell from his lips, you felt your chest getting heavy. Did he really think you were going to break up with him? You were only staying with your parents until you decided you no longer needed their help. You couldn’t help but think you’d end up staying with them even after you gave birth. Sure, things haven’t been going as well as they used to be between the two of you, but you didn’t think it was bad enough to make you end things with Mark. You were sure you’d die of heartbreak if you were to lose him. 

“No, I’m not leaving you. Unless that’s what you want.” His facial expression was quick to change to something you’ve never seen before. He looked angry, yet hurt and confused. 

“Of course that’s not what I want. Why would you even think that? Fuck, I don’t even want you going now but you have your reasons and I can’t stop you I just—fuck.” 

There were so many reasons why you loved Mark. In fact, he was everything you could want in a significant other and more. Sure, there’s no such thing as a perfect person, but he came pretty close. Sometimes, you had a hard time believing he was real and that he was yours. With that being said, there were a few things you could live without. His stubbornness. He always had to have the last say in things and he always had to be right, even if he was wrong; and if he were to be proved wrong he wouldn’t admit to it. 

He was also really bad at communication. You knew there were so many things he wanted to say, ways he wanted to apologize to you. You knew he wanted to yank your bags out of your hands and beg you to stay; but words were never his forte. 

Lastly, the fact that he couldn’t apologize. Sure, if he did something wrong and took responsibility for it, he would say sorry. However in situations that he didn’t feel he did anything wrong, he wouldn’t apologize. You knew you weren’t going to get the apology you deserved out of him, but you were too tired to continue arguing with him. 

“How long will you be gone for?” 

“I don’t know, however long I’m going to need help from my parents.” 

You could tell he wanted to make his way towards you with the way he kept inching forward but he would ultimately move back. Mark knew his limits and he knew how much you didn’t like it when he would try and reach out to you right after the two of you would fight. But in this moment, you wanted nothing more than for him to pull you in to his embrace. You missed the feeling of being wrapped in his arms. Mark was your safe haven, your home. You always felt so protected with him around, but you haven’t felt that way in a while. 

“You can stay here. I’ll help you from now on—“ the emotionless chuckle that left your throat sent chills down Mark’s spine. You were always so positive, you were his own personal ray of sunshine; he hated that he was the reason you were now so cold. 

“Yeah sure, because you’ve been doing such a good job at helping me these days. Please don’t make this harder than it already is. Go get some rest, I’m sure you’re tired. Don’t worry about me, you’ve already been doing such a great job at that.” When he saw you pick up your car keys, that’s when he finally made his way towards you and all but gently yanked it from your hand. 

“Mark, what the hell?” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I thought someone was here to pick you up. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive twenty minutes to your parent’s house by yourself in this condition. I’ll take you.” 

You shook your head in disagreement and attempted to reach for your keys but to no avail. “I’m fine Mark. I don’t think it’s a good idea—“ 

He released an exhausted sigh and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was serious about not letting you go by yourself. However, you knew that you’d end up staying completely if he continued to try talking you out of it. “None of this is a good idea! You’re leaving me for God knows how long y/n! Fuck. I’m so fucking sorry. For everything, but please rethink this. I’m nothing without you. I know, I’ve been gone all the time and we hardly ever see each other but please baby, let me make it up to you. I’ll take good care of you and our baby. I’ll change. I’ll work less and be home more. I’ll start getting more involved again and I’ll pay more attention to you and—“ you slowly got on your tip toes and placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips to get him to stop talking. 

Your mind was made up and you believed this time apart would help in bringing you both back together again. You needed Mark to feel how you’ve been feeling these last few weeks. You wanted him to know something was wrong; you wanted him to feel the effect the distance was having on you. You wanted him to miss you, to need you and to regret the way he’s been neglecting you. 

“I have to go Mark. We’ll be fine. Okay? I’ll let you know when I get there. Take care of yourself while I’m gone please. I love you.” He tried to grab at your waist, but you were already out the door. There was no way he’d be able to sleep now that you were no longer there. Even if the both of you were no longer intimate and hardly ever saw each other, just your presence kept Mark sane. He knew was going to lose it now that you were gone and he was pissed with himself that he didn’t try harder in stopping you from leaving. He began pacing the room back and forth, waiting for a text or call, letting him know you got to your parents place and released a sigh of relief when he got the notification fifteen minutes later. He began typing out multiple messages filled with apologies, telling you how much he loved you and begging you to come back; but he ended up deleting each and every single one. 

When you got to your parent’s house, you quietly made your way up to your old room and began to cry to yourself once you laid down on your bed. Your hands made your way down to your belly and you began to apologize to the tiny little being growing in there. A part of you was upset that Mark didn’t try harder to get you to stay. If only he were to genuinely admit to his faults and promise you he’d do better, then maybe you would’ve stayed. But he just let you leave, as if it was so easy. As if it didn’t bother him that you were leaving and that’s what hurt you the most. You continued to cry as you remembered everything that went down almost an hour ago until you found yourself falling asleep. 

Mark however, couldn’t find it in himself to go to bed. Images of your hurt expression continued to play over and over again in his mind as if you were taunting him. He couldn’t stop thinking about you crying to yourself and having to go through so much pain on your own. You were right. He was obviously not ready to be a father. If he was, he would’ve never allowed you to go through everything alone. No matter how time consuming his job was. He didn’t realize just how much time he spent at work until you brought it up to him. Mark knew what he had to do in order to get you to come back home, and he was going to do it soon. 

For the next two weeks since you’ve left, you had only gotten bigger which meant it was harder for you to do anything by yourself. Your parents were extremely kind and understanding. To your delight, Mark texted you multiple times every day, checking in on how you were doing, if you were eating your meals and taking your vitamins. But that was pretty much it. You weren’t going to lie, you missed him so much. However, you were too busy focused on the well-being of your little one that you didn’t have time to think about what Mark was doing and if he was missing you the way you were with him. 

Little did you know, your fiancé was suffering without you. The house was cold and empty without you. He decided to sleep on the couch because he wasn’t able to sleep in your room knowing you weren’t there next to him. He also began lagging at work. His mind was too busy with thoughts of you that he actually took a sick leave for a few days. On some days, he didn’t even have an appetite. Your absence was killing him. He tried giving you your space by not bombarding you with texts and calls. But he wanted more. He wanted you home. He wanted things to be okay between the two of you again. He hated how awkward things seemed to be getting between the two of you, as if you weren’t a couple. 

There were times where he’d find himself outside of your parents house, wanting to take your things and you back to your place, but he didn’t have the courage to do so. He was afraid your mom now thought negatively of him. You were very close with your parents, but your mom was your best friend. Mark was sure you told her everything, which is why she came up with the idea of you staying with them. 

Finally the day that Mark would make things right finally came. Almost a month since you’ve left to stay with your parents, he got a text from your mom, letting him know that you were at the hospital going to find out the gender of your baby. He was upset to say the least that you didn’t tell him you were going to find out what you were having. Even if you were mad at him, he was still your fiancé and the father of your child; he had every right to know the gender of your baby. 

He was minutes away from a surgery, but he had asked to slip away for a few moments in order to go be with you. As he made his way towards your gynecologist’s office, he felt as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest. This was the first time he was going to get to see you again after that night and he couldn’t be more happy. His heart yearned for you and he was going to make sure you were aware you were going back home with him. 

The receptionist was quick to greet him but looked up at him in confusion. Mark was well known throughout the hospital because of his position and because he was extremely handsome. All the nurses and receptionists would fawn over Dr.Mcdreamy and this receptionist was no different. 

“Dr.Tuan, is everything okay? What can I help you with today?” He looked around for you but you weren’t in the waiting room. Was your appointment over? Did you leave? Did he just miss it? But your mom said ten o’clock, he made sure to be there on time. 

“Y/n y/l/n, is she here? She’s supposed to have an appointment today.” The receptionist looked at her computer before nodding in agreement. 

“She’s in room 7, is she a patient of yours?” He shook his head before heading towards the room. 

“She’s my wife.” Your mom was holding your hand while gently running her hands through your hair in attempts to get you to calm down. You were extremely excited to find out what you and Mark were having. Just a few days after finding out you were pregnant, you and Mark made a bet on what you were having. You wanted a boy and he wanted a girl. You couldn’t help but giggle at the memory, but quickly grew sad when you realized you were going to find out by yourself. Before you could start tearing up, you heard the door open and when you turned to see who it was, your heart began to flutter. 

“Mark—“ he made his way towards you and brought your face in his hands, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. When he felt you smile in to the kiss, he found himself smiling too. 

“Hey stranger, I’ve missed you.” You brought your fingers up to his face and gently grazed his cheek with your thumb. 

“I’ve missed you too. Wait, why are you here? Are you not going to get in trouble for leaving work?” He playfully rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“I was kind of upset when your mom told me about this appointment and that you didn’t, but that doesn’t matter. I’m here now. And I’m always going to be here from now on baby. This is the most important thing going on in my life right now. Hey mom, thanks again for the invitation.” He pulled your mom in for a hug before taking his place back on the bed with you. He looked at you lovingly before placing one more chaste kiss on your lips. 

“You only get more and more beautiful every day and look at you, you’re practically a basketball. God, I’ve missed you so much.” Before you could respond, your gynecologist walked in to the room. 

“So y/n, how are you—Oh—Hi Dr.Tuan. How have you been? What are you doing here?” Mark reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers together while showing it to your gynecologist. 

“Y/n is my wife.” You looked at him in shock before smirking and nodded in agreement. Your doctor had you lie down while applying gel on your belly and began the ultrasound. Mark never let go of your hand the entire time and even placed soft kisses on the back of it every so often. 

After a few moments, your gynecologist smiled down at you. “Congratulations y/n, you’re having a baby boy. There’s his cute little toes and his fingers. He’s hiding his face but that’s his nose right there. Right now he’s approximately 5 pounds.” The gentle squeeze on your hand sent warmth to your cheeks and you turned to face your fiancé. Although Mark made it clear that he was hoping for a girl, the wide grin on his face made it known that he was just as happy that you were having a boy. Once the gynecologist got done explaining to you how the remaining weeks of your pregnancy were going to go, you were left alone in the room with your mom and Mark. 

“I’m going to go validate our parking. I’ll be waiting for you outside y/n, but take your time. Mark sweetie, it was nice seeing you again.” He said his goodbyes to your mom before turning to you. Even if he was confident just a few minutes ago with the way he kissed you as if nothing was wrong, he knew he had a lot to make up for and a few kisses weren’t going to solve your problems. He needed to tell you what he should’ve said a month ago. 

“You must be happy. You’ve always wanted a boy, even when we first started dating I’d catch you in the boys section looking at clothes you’d want to dress our future son in.” You hummed in contentment before motioning for him to come closer. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead while bringing his hands down to yours, absentmindedly playing with your fingers. 

“Baby I’m so sorry. I’m an asshole, a fucking idiot. I can’t believe I was so blind to the way I was neglecting you and failing to give you the love and attention that you need right now. I cried every single day you were gone even if I had no right to. I missed you so fucking much y/n. I didn’t realize just how much I needed you in my life until you were gone. I put you through hell and I hate that it took you having to leave in order for me to realize it. And I’m sorry for not telling you this that night, I could’ve prevented all of this if I just got this off my chest. I was just so stubborn. I admit it, I let my job take over my life and I didn’t make you and our little bub my priority as you should’ve been. I’m sorry, for all the times you cried to yourself, for having to suffer alone. For making you feel like a single parent. Hearing you said you didn’t think I was ready to be a father upset me, but I understood where you were coming from. If I couldn’t even take care of you, there’s no way in hell I was ready to take care of a newborn baby. But I am, and I will.” A tear fell from his face and you were quick to wipe it away before placing a soft kiss on his temple.

“The lack of intimacy, the lack of communication, not being able to spend much time together, that’s all going to change. I already talked to my supervisor, she’s reducing my hours and I get a month off to spend with you and our baby once you give birth. I’m going to stick by your side like glue to the point where you’re probably going to get irritated with me. Anything you need, I got you baby. I’m going to take good care of you y/n and I’m going to make sure I’m the best father to our son and the best fiancé you could ask for. This is only the beginning y/n, but I’m telling you it’s only going to get better from here. I love you, more than you will ever know. You mean the entire world to me. I’ll give up anything and everything for you and your happiness. This, this pathetic and broken thing I call my heart, it’s yours. It beats for you, it yearns for you. You’re all it wants and all it knows, for the rest of my life. By the way, you’re coming back home with me today. I’m going to show you just how much I’ve missed you my love.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #405

“today i went to therapy, told him the embarrassing issues that i’m having with my life  /  he told me that i need to change; life is not a video game, so stop playing & open up your eyes”

What was your favourite sweet as a child? Things like Baby Bottle Pops, Ring Pops, Airheads, etc. Do you like to wear socks to bed? NOOOOOOO. I don't wear socks unless I have to. What’s your favourite berry? Strawberries. If you have a job, how long is your shift? I don't. Do you like sunflowers? Well yeah. Are you counting down for anything? No. Are you watching TV? What’s on? No. Do you have make-up on? No. I haven't worn makeup since last October. Are you any good with kids? People have told me I am, but I beg to differ. What if you had a baby with the last person you kissed? We're both cisgender women, we physically couldn't. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years time? It'd be nice honestly, but I kinda doubt I will be. What is your favorite card game? Magic: The Gathering. What is the weirdest thing you’ve done in public? Ha, probably the times I've gotten down on the ground beside the road to photograph roadkill... More than once has someone stopped and asked if I was okay, haha. Favorite sleeping position? Twisted half on my side and stomach with my legs just sorta splayed out. What is your dad’s name? Ken. Have you ever been on a diet? Multiple times. Do you own any jersey shirts? No. Are you proud to be of the nationality you are? There are two moods I have on this: I'm either neutral or embarrassed. Can you remember what you last clapped for? Omg the woman who facilitates my TMS treatment was telling Mom and me about this one time a tiny snake got in the lobby and I did a lil squeal and clapped a bit because I was just excited to hear about a little snake, haha. What is the geekiest part of your music collection? *shrug* Maybe game soundtrack music. What do you eat when you raid the fridge late at night? Well, not really the fridge, but w/e. I'll usually get a granola bar or something of the sort. What is the little physical habit that gives away you're insecure moment? Kneading/wringing my hands together is a dead giveaway. Do you have too many love interests? No. How much money would it take to get you to give up the Internet for one year? If you want honesty... probably no amount would lmao. I rely way too heavily on the Internet for so many things. Do you talk a lot? It depends on my mood and who I'm around. Do transient, homeless, or starving people sometimes annoy you? What a fucking awful question. They don't annoy me. It can be awkward driving past them, but they're in no way annoying. Do you consider yourself to be a nice person? I definitely try to be. What is your ideal marriage location? Either a gothic-looking mansion or something of the sort or a wooded area in the fall. Do you tell your friends about your sex life? I don't have one to talk about. Would you ever admit to having done plastic surgery of any kind if confronted? Yeah? No shame. What kind of watch(es) do you wear? I don't wear watches. What do you cook the best? My family likes my scrambled cheesy eggs... basic as that is, haha. When my sisters would go to Taco Bell all the time and save the hot sauces for later use, I would use some packets in the eggs I cooked. Honestly amazing. What's one car you will never buy? "Anything that is two door, or low to the ground." <<<< This right here. On the other end of the spectrum, I also won't ever buy a car that's high up. I need a good medium so I can actually get in with ease. What's one thing you're a sore loser at? Hm, I dunno. What kind of first impression do you think you give to people? "Wow, she's awkward." What's one thing you like to do alone? Draw. When's the last time you cried? Not long ago at all because I was just so exasperated over my weight gain. Do you think you're cute? God no. Do you have problems changing clothes in front of friends? I don't change in front of anyone if I can avoid it. Did you like kissing the last person you kissed or the one before that more? The last person. I gotta say I was not a fan of kissing Girt because for whatever reason his lips were ALWAYS wetter than lips naturally should be and I just didn't dig it, man. That and every kiss with him was awkward. Whose bed other than yours did you last lay on? My mom's. What turns you off immediately? Acting sexist, to name one. Which city do you particularly enjoy visiting and for what reasons? I don't like going into cities. Do you often take pictures with the camera on your phone? No. I don't like the camera on my phone. In the past year, have you lost weight or gained weight? How much? Gained. You don't need to know. What year was the last car you rode in/drove? I have zero clue. What’s your worst/funniest experience with one of your neighbors? "Worst" and "funniest" are very different... but I can tell you the worst easily. At my childhood home, our next-door neighbors had a pair of Rottweilers in their back yard within a chain-link fence, and we had a LOT of outdoor cats at the time. (I will emphasize every time I bring it up to NOT keep cats outside.) Somehow the dogs got loose and went on a rampage trying to kill our cats; one young one was killed, while our fearless mother cat, Chance, literally fought them off to defend her new kittens. More were maybe killed, I honestly can't remember. My mom was hysterical and threatened to call animal control if it ever happened again. I was absolutely, utterly heartbroken. The last time you burned your tongue or mouth, what were you eating? Ummm I want to say it was some sort of pasta that I didn't let cool long enough. Honestly, are you shallow? Far from it, honestly. Can/could your parents tell when you were lying? Not always. Besides clothes, shoes, and accessories, what’s your favorite thing to shop for? I love window-shopping at Morph Market, haha. AAAAAAAAAALL those ball python morphs, man... *drools* Does/did your parents ever go through your computer or cell phone? When I was younger, Mom was very intent on figuring out why I was always so secretive about what I did on the computer (mostly RP-related things) that ohhhh yeah, she'd do some digging. The night she finally snapped, demanding I tell her my passwords to everything, and she ultimately found out about me being a forum RPer, was literally almost traumatic to me, I think. I know, that sounds INCREDIBLY overdramatic, but I'm not fucking joking. I was in my room SOBBING on my best friend's shoulder, who was spending the night. I was just so embarrassed, and I *still* am when I share that fact with people I know, even though I have no reason to be. Like I don't do any weird or kinky RP shit, it's just genuine, artistic writing with actual, well thought-out plots, but I still feel like people would think it dumb, childish, and just weird. What song reminds you the most of a particular day in your life? Why is that? "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin. I've talked about it a few times before and really don't feel like doing it again. Do you have any close friends that were adopted? I don't think so. Who, in your opinion, is the best thriller writer? I don't know. Does your mom eat meat? Yeah. Was your dad ever on a sports team? Lots in high school, I believe. Do you prefer thick or thin crusted pizza? Thick, by a long shot. What do you have in your fruit salads? Not a fan of fruit salads. Have you ever spent more than two weeks in a wheelchair? I've only needed a wheelchair once in my life, and that was just to get inside and maneuver around the doctor's office when I tore a ligament in my foot. So no. What are your favorite word? Serendipity, tranquility, lucid, etc.; pretty, peaceful words like those. Is there a lot of drama in your life? Nope. I don't do enough or have enough people in my life for there to be. What are you listening to? An extended version of "Nightsong" from WoW. Do you hear any animals right now? No. I'm sure I'd hear birds if I didn't have my earplugs in, though. Have you ever played fetch with a dog? Yes. Have you ever pet a stingray? No. Who is the last baby you held? Emerson, my youngest niece. Do you have any scars from an animal? Yeah; I've got looooots from my cat playing too rough. Have you ever seen an Igloo? I don't believe so. Do you like Korn? They're high on my list of faves. Are you more afraid of tornadoes or hurricanes? Absolutely tornadoes. Do you like mushrooms? Ugh, NO. Have you ever been on Omegle? No. So do you have a favorite M&M? Just the regular ones. Have you ever snuck out? No. Do you currently feel like you have pretty stable career goals/a pretty stable life plan? Have you ever felt this way? I don't know, man. I know what I WANT to do, I just don't know if I'm ever going to get there. Or if what I want will be financially supportive enough, now that I'm really losing interest in photographing people. I might just have to if I want to be financially stable with photography, which would be okay, but bleh. I'd much rather just work with nature. If you could buy an android that was was convincingly human and could be tailored to be your perfect partner, would you want one? No. I don't want to build my own partner, nor do I want my romantic partner to be an android. I want life to just introduce me to a person who is uniquely themselves, who have built themselves from their own life experiences, and not just have a perfect spouse tailored to everything I like. If you do not identify as being “straight,” can you remember back to your childhood some things you did that were, in hindsight, possible indicators of your future sexuality? Yes, especially in middle school. I thought women were prettier than probably a straight kid would, and looking back, I definitely found the natural curves of the female figure to be attractive. When you consume media (movies, books, etc.) with a romantic element, what sort of romance scenarios interest you most? Hm. I know I prefer serious ones over silly; like I'm a sucker for Nicholas Sparks' style, if that says anything. If you are female, do you feel connected to other women as a class? What sort of things make you feel a strong sense of sisterhood or female empowerment? This is too big of a question for me to feel like delving into right now, haha. But I can say it more so depends on the individual than the gender when it comes to feeling connection over anything.

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice Gift for koikoipond

For @koikoipond <3

Read on AO3

*****

Call it Crazy, Call it Meant to Be

The morning of the second day Wei Ying met his soulmate, he rolled out of bed and made it halfway to the bus stop before realizing he’d pulled on his bunny slippers, a gag gift from Jiejie, and left his slip-ons haphazardly discarded by the couch. He’d still made it to the bus in time, though just barely, and had to call in Mianmian to take over the newbie’s shift. All in all a normal start to any day he had to open up the coffee shop.

In short, the universe had not prepared his poor heart for the man who strode into Latte Mugs Cafe at five after six, riding the crest of the crisp December air like some sort of angel in a white wool sweater. The door’s bell rang far too muted than was usual.

Wei Ying stared for what his racing heart later deemed a good five minutes before his gaze, somewhat distorted by the glass of the display he was arranging, rose to meet the man’s golden eyes. Oh, crap.

He shot to his feet, waved nonsensically at the man, shouted some rendition of “We’ll be right with you!”, and bolted through the door to the back room, whisper-yelling for Mianmian.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Wei Ying put a hand on his wildly thumping heart and paused to calm his breathing. Why is he here? When Mianmian emerged from the storage shelves (only one unit of which was used to stock non-perishables; the rest were filled to the brim with what the employees could only assume were the owner’s personal items, or else the remains of some poor, traditional tea shop, based on the sheer number of handmade tea sets), he ran up to her, putting on his best pout and swinging an arm around her shoulders. She glared at him and he carefully removed it and took a step back. Right. No touching.

“Mianmian!” he panted, eyes swimming with both remembered beauty and mortification equally, “The man- the bell- his eyes- and he just came in!” His voice was rising dangerously, and Mianmian thankfully stopped him before the taco place next door banged on the wall again, or worse, Lan Zhan, heard him.

“Wei Ying. Bi Disaster. Whichever you prefer,” her flat voice cut through his panic and grounded him, like a mother forcing her child into a life jacket against his will. Mianmian was great. “First off, my name is Grandmaster Luo, as per our agreement if I won the bet. Which I did.”

An exclamation of protest came from Wei Ying. It was ignored which was completely unfair because the bet had been who could last the longest without getting drunk, and sure, technically, Wei Ying got drunk first, but Mianmian had just been sipping the same cocktail the whole night!

“Second, who are you talking about and why does it involve me?” Mianmian had closed last night, too. Usually, she was much more pleasant than Wei Ying was in the morning, but today he’d taken one look at her and offered to work the counter. He’d rather not have to file a witness statement for a murder he’d seen committed at six in the morning, thank you very much. His memory was bad on a good day. He contemplated for a moment if Lan Zhan would be able to handle her and vice versa, but he hadn’t seen so much as a wince from him when the man was literally blackout drunk, so Wei Ying was willing to chance it. Who could get mad at such a perfect face anyway?

“Luo-jie,” he whined, “it’s Lan Zhan.”

“What, another ex?” She looked unimpressed.

“No! I haven’t dated anyone since the guitarist, you know that!” The guitarist—Wei Ying had blocked his name, which he remembered to be just as sexy as the rest of him, out of his mind—had been a mistake to begin with; a summer hope that turned out to be all riffs and no harmony.

She just looked confused, now. Well, guess she wasn’t lying when she’d said she tunes him out.

“No, no! Luo-jie, this is Lan Zhan . From the bar. Last week?” He winced at the memory.

“Oh. Your soulmate,” she said, as if this was common knowledge to the man waiting outside.

“Shh! Not so loud, what if he hears?”

The look she gave him this time was beyond tired, the sort of look his old government teacher used to give him when he derailed the discussion for the third time. Fond memories.

She appears to give up on the conversation entirely, brushing past him and moving toward the door. “Wei Ying, we’re talking about this. Later.” She pauses, and before he can embarrass her for caring about him, she says, “I saw him. A man that beautiful doesn’t deserve to be stuck with a soulmark he can’t remember. Even if it is to you.” Ah, there was that smirk he knew and loved!

Mianmian informed him when Lan Zhan left only a few minutes later. Apparently, he had asked for a lemongrass tea and nothing else. He hadn’t said a word about Wei Ying, or even The Insane Barista. Wei Ying was not upset by this, truly. All it meant was that the call he’d received the morning after their...escapades...had been honestly meant. His mind drifted back to Saturday morning as he mindlessly retook his position at the counter and finished his shift.

Wei Ying bolted up, his cheap twin bed creaking in protest as his phone blared the opening bars of Britney Spears’ Toxic—his ringtone—far too loudly. (If he let it keep ringing, it was just the first, really annoying bars, repeated over and over. He was unbearably smug about it.)

He reached over, trying to ignore his pounding head, and nearly dropped the phone before managing to accept the call. He mumbled out, “Hi this is-” before a deep, slightly groggy voice cuts him off.

“I have called to apologize for last night.” Apologize? Wait, was this- “I do not know what I said or did after drinking the alcohol-” Lan Zhan? “-but my brother informs me that you brought me home.” It must be. Though, technically, Jiang Cheng did the actual driving. He, after all, had not been drunk.

“Well, actually-” he was cut off again. Funny, Wei Ying thought sardonically, he remembered Lan Zhan being more polite than this. Even when they’d vandalized  the dumpster together, he’d insisted they leave room for future law breakers.

“I am grateful for that.” There was a pause, evidently for Lan Zhan to gather his thoughts. Wei Ying decided not to test his luck and gather his own as well. His brain typically didn’t wake up till at least nine on the weekends, but here he was—he checked his phone—at seven AM on a Saturday trying to have a conversation with a guy that refused to listen to a thing he said.

He didn’t remember much about last night, but that was normal for him. If past experiences were to be learned from, most of it would come to him later in flashes and pitfalls of regret. Still, he’d thought… He freed his left hand from where it was tangled in the sheets and—just sat there and blinked at it. Yeah, that was a fully-colored soulmark, to be sure. Which was—something he’d never had before.

Just yesterday, the twisting lines that covered his left palm and creeped though his knuckles were black and lifeless. Now, his hand looked like some sort of moving painting. The dull, monotone patterns had shifted, forming blue and white elegant clouds and delicate red lotus petals that swirled around each other as if moved by wind. He bent his fingers to trace the lines.

He hadn’t dreamed it then! He and Lan Zhan were soulmates and he was talking to his soulmate (or his soulmate was talking to him) and take that Jiang Cheng!

Lan Zhan was speaking, “-we should not contact each other again. Goodbye.”

No. No! Lan Zhan didn’t know! “Wait!” but the call had already ended.

He’d needed the whole weekend on his jiejie’s couch with ice cream and soup to feel better about the whole business. See, the thing was, he wanted to talk to Lan Zhan about it. Mianmian was right; it wasn’t fair that the man now had a soulmark and no clue who he was tied to for life—literally. Once found, soulmates lived and died together, unless a powerful enough rejection broke the bond.

Every time Wei Ying opened the contact he’d created on his phone, he found himself shying away, a knot of anxiety coiling in his stomach and threatening to boil over into panic as it bound his hands and prevented any communication with Lan Zhan. He’d studied soulmates before, had taken two elective classes on them his freshman year of college. He knew the fear of a severed bond was merely psychological, a flight reaction to rejection.

Severed bonds were permanent and caused by verbal or otherwise evident rejection of a relationship between soulmates. Physically, soulmarks kept their color but stopped swirling across the skin, an obvious sign which led to the Unmoving’s ever-shifting status in society. Emotionally, the soulmates often sank into depression. And so it was ingrained into the body that such experiences should be avoided. Wei Ying’s worry, the possibility of never seeing Lan Zhan again, the fear that his soulmate didn’t want him, pushed his body to such reactions. The whole thing made it frustratingly difficult to just talk to him.

Mianmian remembered to catch him just as he was leaving. She’d spotted him while on her way to her old mustang and had flagged him down like he was speeding in a school zone.

In typical Mianmian style, she gave him a once over, noted his stressed and slightly shaky appearance and declared, “You need to call him. I know you have his number.” Maybe she did listen, sometimes.

He sighed, a burst of warm air that puffed out before him and chilled, disappearing as surely as his prospects with Lan Zhan. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” A look. “I’m not being evasive! I really, really do want to tell him. I know he doesn’t-” a pause, and he continued quieter, “doesn’t remember me or our bond but he’s so kind, he might accept it anyway. He did seem enthusiastic when he was drunk. But…”

Mianmian’s eyes softened and her face looked completely different. “I know I don’t tell you because frankly your head is usually too large to make it through the door in the morning, but you’re not bad-looking or mean or stupid. I mean, maybe you are sometimes and you can’t expect to match your Lan Zhan for beauty, but it’s not like you don’t have a chance.” The last time he’d heard this tone from her was when he’d had a breakdown in their walk-in refrigerator. It was strangely calming, bringing to mind his sister and her gentle touches.

He smiled, chuckling softly. “It’s not that. I know I’m a catch! Though maybe a ten where Lan Zhan’s off the scale,” he joked, “But I just physically can’t confess or whatever to him. He- he almost rejected me once, though he didn’t know about the bond. And maybe it’s not fair, but I can only picture a still soulmark whenever I consider calling him.” He hated revealing that about himself, but he knew Mianmian. They went out for drinks most Fridays and she could sniff out a lie from him while drunk and flirting with a different dude. Besides, despite her thorny words and genuine annoyance with him, she did care. She’d even treated him to drinks on his birthday.

Mianmian looked at him consideringly and nodded. She understood. “You’re scheduled for most of the morning shifts now since those two students were hired. I’ll try to join you and work the counter for a while.” She turned decisively and got in her car, accepting his thanks with a nod. ”Don’t be late.”

*~*~*~*~*

During the following week, they established a routine. He and Mianmian would arrive at the coffee shop, baking and preparing together until six when they opened. Wei Ying would disappear into the back room, getting blends together and cleaning until Lan Zhan left at around 6:30. He showed up at 6:05 most days, give or take a few minutes. On one notable occasion, he had walked up (he walked! When it was literally freezing outside!) to the cafe at 5:55 and Mianmian had graciously let him in while Wei Ying made himself scarce.

Strangely, not once had Lan Zhan ordered coffee. In the coffee shop! Instead, he asked for infuriatingly healthy teas and protein bars which unfortunately did not include Wei Ying's prized creation: sweet habanero bars. Wei Ying had started to wonder why he even came. Their tea wasn't even that good! Not that Wei Ying liked tea, particularly, so he had to admit that he was perhaps not the best judge.

Still, he wondered if the punctual ringing of the bell had anything to do with the pull in his own hand, in his own mind, that wanted him to be closer to Lan Zhan. That wanted him to touch him, to talk to him, to accept him. Soulmarks, after all, did not care if one knew their soulmate or not. They were connected anyway.

One day, a week after the near-disastrous second meeting, Mianmian had to take off. She'd been applying for jobs recently, hoping to find a secretarial position with stable enough hours and pay to allow her to continue her schooling in law. A place nearby had allowed an interview and she didn't have time to take the morning shift.

So here Wei Ying was at six in the morning, working the counter as an exhausted student he wasn't letting within ten feet of the espresso machine stumbled around in the back room. He was stressed himself, but for once it seemed to work in his favor, tiring him out so completely that he'd fallen asleep while the clock was still on PM. He figured if he had to see his soulmate today, at least he wouldn't look like the zombie he normally did.

Wei Ying watched as a figure in a blue the color of his soulmark— their soulmark, as he'd learned the patterns and colors of pairs tended to be mirrors of each other—strode, sure and steady, through the door right as the grandfather clock in the corner struck 6:05.

A flicker of something passed through those golden eyes—surprise, maybe?—as he approached the counter. Just like before, Wei Ying's heart began beating wildly, echoing loudly in his ears and nearly deafening him. This time, however, he could also feel a slight tug, like a silk string had wrapped itself around his heart and was now gently pulling him closer to its other end. His soulmate.

A deep, quiet voice cut through his thoughts, and he quickly lowered the hand, his left one, that had been slowly reaching out. As he came back to awareness, he was suddenly beyond grateful for the gloves he'd decided to wear today. His mark would be a dead giveaway. "Good morning. Is there a certain tea blend you would suggest?"

For a moment, Wei Ying was taken aback, distracted by the man's voice and lost in his eyes, not completely comprehending the question. "Wh- What?" he stammered. "Oh, um, I'm more of a coffee guy myself, what do you usually get?" He spoke quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. Was he revealing too much? Now Lan Zhan knew that Wei Ying knew he was a regular customer! Should he have just said Citrus! Tried and true ?

Lan Zhan's brow furrowed, a minuscule movement that would have been lost had Wei Ying not spent the last eternity staring at his eyes. He opened his mouth and Wei Ying decided that it was best if he focused on something else, in the interest of his own health. "I will take whichever coffee you prefer."

Wei Ying was speechless, a feat not many had achieved. Over the last week, he had used Mianmian as a spy, asking detailed questions about everything that Lan Zhan did. She was a surprisingly good sport about. The point was, Lan Zhan had always ordered tea, a different blend each day, and never anything else.

Lan Zhan turned around, unbothered by Wei Ying's confused and flustered state, and sat down at a two-person table next to the bookshelf. He pulled out a laptop from his bag and began typing away. Wei Ying squinted at the screen in disbelief, but couldn't make out the words from this angle.

He shook himself and went about preparing the mocha, opting to skip over the spice he liked to add. A memory of a truth-or-dare game in which Lan Zhan admitted disliking spicy foods provided a hazy warning. A shame, if you asked Wei Ying, but he hadn't. Wei Ying had told him anyway.

He paused before bringing the drink over to his soulmate. It just looked so sad, both the drink and Lan Zhan, sitting quietly in an empty coffee shop as the sky only just began to awaken. He still didn't think he could properly talk to the man if his performance earlier was anything to go by, but maybe he could...

He reached into the display case, wrapped his gift in a napkin, and delivered Lan Zhan's drink, a little addition tucked neatly beside it. He turned and just about ran to the counter, pulling out a rag and cleaning non-existent spills until Lan Zhan left.

When he finally heard the door close, Wei Ying straightened up from his bunker and drifted, dazed, over to clean Lan Zhan's table, finding only an empty cup. Wei Ying smiled. His heart-shaped ginger cookie hadn't been abandoned, despite the bold way it was offered. Perhaps he wouldn't be, either.

Emboldened by his success, Wei Ying called Mianmian and resumed his position at the counter, a plan formed and ready to be completed. He wasn't sure if it was caused by the civil and promising conversation yesterday or sheer eagerness, but he thought, just maybe, that he'd be able to get himself to talk to Lan Zhan. Hopefully.

*~*~*~*~*

At 6:05, Wei Ying was doubting his chances. He watched as Lan Zhan walked up to the counter, just as confidently as he had the day before, steadily getting closer. As Wei Ying had found tended to happen when one moved. His breathing quickened, the now expected response to his soulmate's presence, and he responded to the sharp tug in his chest by stepping back, just slightly. He was distinctly reminded of a prey animal trapped by a predator.

Instead of biting his head off, Lan Zhan simply stepped up to the counter and examined the fresh pastries sitting in the display case, for whatever reason ignoring the barista's slightly gaping mouth.

Wei Ying swallowed, stood up straighter than he did when he visited Madam Yu, and summoned up this morning's courage that had so suddenly abandoned his poor self.

"Welcome to Latte Mugs Cafe! What can I get you?" There, his voice barely shook!

Lan Zhan hummed—wow, that was way hotter than it should have been—and tilted his head just the slightest bit to glance at the menu on the wall. "I will have a mocha."

He'd liked it then! Wei Ying hadn't pegged Lan Zhan as a chocolate person, but he supposed he might have a secret sweet tooth. "No problem. It'll only take a few minutes. Would you like to make it a Mexican mocha?" He couldn't help but recommend it, not after he'd worked so hard to get it on the menu. He'd written an essay to the owner. Besides, he'd taken Wei Ying’s mocha suggestion and eaten his cookie. He wondered what Lan Zhan would do with something Wei Ying knew he didn’t like.

His stomach turned a little at the thought that he was getting to know more about Lan Zhan and he wondered idly if he could really blame all of this on their soul bond or if he should take responsibility for his traitorous heart. He dismissed the thought. If anything, Lan Zhan should be the one taking responsibility merely by virtue of existing. That thought twisted his insides even more. Ugh .

Lan Zhan gave a little noise that Wei Ying chose to interpret as assent before sitting back down. He stared in surprise for a minute at his turned back before carefully preparing the drink. When it was done, he once again paused before rounding the counter. Surely, Lan Zhan needed to eat something with his coffee. Who knew if he'd even eaten breakfast? He bent down, scanning the available treats, and plucked one from the shelf, placing it carefully on a napkin before bouncing over to Lan Zhan's little table by the bookshelf, trademark grin in place. Courage, don't fail me now.

"Hello, Sir! One mexican mocha right here!" All of his best (and worst) decisions had been made by following his instincts. He pulled the chair around from the other side of the table, scraping it loudly across the rough tile, and decidedly sat down, holding out his bright red offering with only a moderate heart attack. "It's a habanero bar! I made the recipe and it pairs perfectly with the Mexican mocha, trust me. Oh, and I'll pay for it, of course." Technically untrue, but he didn't think he could steal something he'd made.

Lan Zhan looked a little surprised if Wei Ying had interpreted the meaning of that blink correctly. Was he regretting his spicy choices? Still, he reached out a hand and took the treat with an appreciative nod. "Thank you, Wei Ying."

What. "Eh? How'd you know my name?" Oh please for the love of all that is beautiful, don't bring up the bar. Lan Zhan had forgotten. He had! But if he hadn't, then...

"Your name tag."

Oh. Maybe the three coffees he'd had this morning in preparation had...altered his cognitive abilities. At least, that was the story he was going with.

"Well! You have me at a disadvantage, then!” Yeah, because he’s hiding a night of crimes and a soul bond from you. “What might the name of this handsome one be?" Should he be flirting? Where was the button to turn it off?? Then again, Lan Zhan was his soulmate . If there was one person in his life he was supposed to flirt with, surely it was him.

"Lan Zhan." Were his ears red? Was he hot? Was he blushing ? The rest of his face maintained its pale composure, but his ears were gently dusted pink. Lan Zhan had been inside too long to attribute it to the biting wind outside. Wei Ying's grin widened. Not even when the man had woken up wasted had he seen him blush!

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," he rolled the well-worn name in his mouth, a teasing lilt to his voice as he tasted how his tongue completed a pleasant circle around the syllables. This time, their flavor was not regretful or drunken or stressed. Simply Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying did not leave. Instead, he just started talking about all sorts of things—his job, his siblings, Mianmian. As he fell into the familiar pattern of rambling for as long as people will listen, he found himself relaxing.

"You'd think we wouldn't be that great of friends. We're coworkers in a coffee shop! But even though she claims I'm an annoying gremlin who wouldn't know his head from a rock in a lineup, she still comes out to get drinks with me—at Marco's, a few minutes away—every Friday. Sometimes, she even brings her new boyfriends! Which is like taking your partner to meet the weird relatives. I think she might use it as some sort of test. I drink them under the table nearly every time, though, so I hope they failed." He realizes, belatedly, that he'd accidentally mentioned the bar. One of literally two subjects to avoid. He discreetly eyed Lan Zhan's face, but there was no reaction, no indication of familiarity, just two golden eyes, gazing at him with interest as his soulmate listened.

Wei Ying’s heart stuttered, dangerously close to giving out altogether.

Eventually, Lan Zhan had to leave, quick movements revealing just how late he was for music lessons—he taught children to play the guqin! For a living!—and Wei Ying smiled brightly as he watched him disappear down the street. See , he thought to himself, there was nothing to be worried about.

The plan had gone off without a hitch. Not only had he managed to talk to Lan Zhan, but he'd also been able to get several responses from him, filling up the part of his memory reserved for the man he wouldn't ever forget.

These new pearls of knowledge he kept close: Lan Zhan was a music teacher and occasional performer with a local traditional music group. He taught and played the guqin most often but had played the violin in his high school orchestra. During his studies for university, he had learned several other string instruments and the french horn. He had an older brother, Lan Huan. He liked rabbits.

During the course of the next week, he learned these things and protected them: Lan Zhan and his brother had been raised by their uncle. They were not religious, but his family was traditional. Lan Zhan had gone to a private school. He hadn't liked it. Lan Zhan's mother was dead. He spoke of his father in the past tense. Both of his parents were Unmoving, their soul bonds broken. Lan Zhan hadn’t known if they were meant for each other or not. He despised lying in all of its forms.

There were also these things which laid soft and fond in Wei Ying's heart: Lan Zhan did not, in fact, like spice. He enjoyed drinking tea and reading a book in the park when it was warm outside. He preferred mysteries. He did not mind Wei Ying's chatter. He adored his students, one of which had little natural talent but had gone to region-wide contests. He was a lover of poetry and a hobbiest composer. He said "Wei Ying" as if the world spun around his name.

Talking with Lan Zhan was an experience greater than words. Many things Lan Zhan meant, he did not say. None of the things he said were to be taken for granted. With him, silence was just as comforting a companion as the loud atmosphere Wei Ying tended to create. It settled peaceful and honest around them. They sat, drank, and ate together as if they were friends of many years and not relative acquaintances. Like there wasn’t a secret resting between them like a viper waiting for its prey.

*~*~*~*~*

A week after their first meeting, it snowed. Flakes drifted down beneath a grey sky, piling up in the cracks on the sidewalks, on the windowsills, dusting the beanie of a certain Lan Zhan that strode in slowly even as he shivered from beneath his coat. Rosy cheeks and ears adorned a normally pale, jade-like face, tousled hair falling down to frame it as he removed the beanie. Wei Ying fell in love a little more at the adorable scene.

Once he’d made Lan Zhan's spiced apple tea, Wei Ying drifted over with his own latte, a chocolate chip cookie in hand.

"Do you own a car, Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying was curious. Surely he could have simply driven here, or even gone straight to work and skipped the weather entirely.

"Mn. I have lessons all over the city and we often perform hours away from here." Then why , Wei Ying thought, would you come here when it’s below freezing outside? He did not voice the question, though, because Lan Zhan's jaw had shifted just slightly, the difference a clear declaration: his mind could not be changed about this. Fine. He’d let Lan Zhan live with his choices.

Wei Ying laughed and changed the subject, reaching out to draw patterns in the cream of Lan Zhan’s coffee with his straw . "When's your next performance?"

Lan Zhan sat for a moment, thinking. "We do not have one lined up. We've been practicing to release an album recently."

"Oh really? Why? Just earlier this week you mentioned that the group didn't have the resources for it." He really hoped they would, though. Maybe with a solo piece from Lan Zhan? He hadn't heard him play yet, a true shame.

"Mn. I found a sound artist." His voice was sure and steady as he stared at Wei Ying, who looked away and chuckled awkwardly.

"You should have told me that was all you needed! I would have done the job for free, as long as you played for me. I have a bachelor's in audio engineering, you know!" To be honest, Wei Ying was a little hurt that he'd not been considered, or else Lan Zhan had tuned him out during one of the times when he had just spewed whatever came to mind.

Before he turned around, he felt a hand on his through his left glove and he flinched at the sensitive contact on his mark. Still, he longed to grasp Lan Zhan’s hand and never let go .  "Wei Ying. It is you," he paused, and slowly removed his hand, the echoes of his fingertips burning trails on Wei Ying's skin even through the fabric. "If you choose to accept." He takes a breath, and says, quieter, "I would like it very much if you did."

Like a lightbulb turned back on, Wei Ying brightened immediately, an obvious flush of embarrassment darkening his cheeks. He leaned forward, throwing his arms around Lan Zhan in a hug both to hide his face and to just get closer. Wei Ying mumbled into his shoulder, "Of course. Of course I accept. Thank you so much!" He leaned back after a too-short moment, looking Lan Zhan in the eyes and smiling. "When do I start?"

They settled all the details. Wei Ying would be attending their 6 PM practice three days a week for a month before recording and editing the final tracks. He would, actually, be paid, though they couldn't afford the usual rates. That was fine with him. Really, he just needed to put something in the ‘Experience’ section of his resume. Well, plus his overwhelming desire to hear Lan Zhan play his guqin.

When Lan Zhan opened the door to leave, Wei Ying called out for him to stop. He stepped forward exactly one step, in a completely normal and not-at-all-nervous way. He opened his mouth, closed it, and blurted out before he could change his mind, "Doyouwannagetdinnerwithme?"

Lan Zhan gave him a flat look, but the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed his understanding. Wei Ying took a steadying breath, fought the urge to glare, and stated loudly and clearly, "Will you go out with me later tonight?” His face felt like it was on fire. “As thanks for the job?" No one would ever guess the stone-faced man had a sense of humor, but Wei Ying was living evidence of it.

Finally, after a beat of silence during which Wei Ying mourned his stolen heart, Lan Zhan nodded once. "I will pick you up at your house at seven. Where do you live?"

The pure excitement that filled Wei Ying at Lan Zhan’s acceptance prevented any protest about how he was supposed to take Lan Zhan out and gave the man his address. As the ever-present bell marked Lan Zhan's departure, all Wei Ying could think was that he had a date. That he had a chance .

His palm tingled in anticipation as he ran to the back room to tell Mianmian the good news, filled with all the details she couldn’t get while eavesdropping.

*~*~*~*~*

Five minutes after getting in the car, Wei Ying regretted letting Lan Zhan drive. He should have risked his unused license or else simply called a cab because they were nowhere near the restaurant he had suggested, and he didn't know what to tell Lan Zhan if the man picked a nicer place. A barista was only paid so much!

Still, Lan Zhan refused to turn the car around or even explain himself when Wei Ying asked. He simply kept his eyes fixed on the road, staring at it as if it might disappear if refused Lan Zhan’s attention (Wei Ying sympathized). That determined set to his jaw was firmly in place. His eyes narrowed, and Wei Ying had the distinct impression that he was a man on a mission. Wei Ying just wished he'd been given a briefing.

Cars passed in pools of red and white that blended well into the background of a late December metropolis. Only about a week was left until Christmas and the trees were adorned with brightly glowing lights that bathed the streets in a familiar mix of artificial fluorescence and beauty.

He liked this time of year, enjoyed how his apartment complex decorated its buildings, smiled when the granny next door brought him homemade cookies and hot chocolate. He didn't even mind the cold that much, not when branching frost framed the windows and Lan Zhan's cheeks flushed red.

They were stuck in Friday night traffic for longer than he suspected Lan Zhan had planned, based on the finger softly tapping on the wheel, but eventually, Lan Zhan drove into a parking garage a good distance away from any restaurant Wei Ying knew and got out.

They walked a few blocks, glad for the several layers of clothes (Wei Ying actually had a reason to wear gloves, for once), before stopping at the entrance to one of the city's parks. A stone path twisted through the trees, a canopy of a million white stars enclosing the area and welcoming the two of them.

He grinned, turning to Lan Zhan and teasing, "I think we skipped a step. Romantic walks through the woods go after dinner."

A drawn-out, "Mn," the one that meant 'ridiculous', was the only answer he received. Instead, Lan Zhan smiled , which—wow. Illegal.—and offered Wei Ying his arm with far too much confidence. He blushed, hoped it wasn't visible in the lighting, and took it, only feeling slightly like some sort of flustered Victorian maiden.

Did Lan Zhan know what he was doing? Did he take every friend and business associate out to fairy gardens when they asked him to dinner?

Thoroughly confused but aware that Lan Zhan wasn't going to answer any pointed questions, he decided to enjoy the evening and pester him about the food instead.

"Lan Zhaaan," he whined, staring at the way the lights gave Lan Zhan's face an ethereal glow, " “When are you going to feed your poor A-Ying?"

At this, Lan Zhan put his other hand on Wei Ying's where it was nestled in the crook of his elbow in a comforting gesture and reassured, his voice calm, "We are almost there."

Wei Ying spent the rest of the walk as he was accustomed to doing around Lan Zhan—talking his ear off. He admired the lights, expressed his appreciation for Lan Zhan's outfi—a dark blue coat over Wei Ying's favorite knitted white sweater—and asked about the songs his group had chosen for their concert.

He couldn't wait to hear Lan Zhan play. He suspected music was the quieter man's true outlet for expressing his feelings, a language without the burden of words.

Lan Zhan spoke too, not as often or as loud, but he answered and asked questions of his own. Did Wei Ying play an instrument too? He had—flute in high school, though he preferred the piccolo, all the better to annoy people with. Portable, too! Why did he like alcohol? It was the experience, more than the taste, especially at a cheap place like Marco's. Was he planning on getting his Master's? He wasn't sure. He wanted to pay off some of his student loans before getting deeper in debt.

The easy conversation made Wei Ying relax, happy as always to be around Lan Zhan. It was strange to think that a week ago, he’d never met the man. He didn’t think he could live without him now.

Finally, they took a smaller, branching path, and Wei Ying gasped at its end; a white gazebo bathed in soft purple lights sat like a fairy house among gleaming trees.

He released Lan Zhan's elbow and took a step forward before looking back at his companion with an open mouth.

"You...you arranged all of this?" he asked, wonder coloring his voice.

Another "Mn," accompanied by a self-satisfied tightening of the mouth.

Wei Ying had long since given up trying to understand any of Lan Zhan's actions, but he was hopelessly endeared all the same. He grabbed his arm again, this time pulling him up the wooden steps and squealing in glee.

To one side there was a table laden with all sorts of foods, including, he was overjoyed to note, many dyed deliciously red. On the other side of the gazebo, a long, low table sat, a intricately carved, dark guqin resting atop it. A cushion, metal heater, and blanket were laid before the instrument, ready for use.

Impressed, Wei Ying went to inspect the dishes closer, his growling stomach refusing to wait any longer. He wondered at what time today Lan Zhan had time to set all of this up. Had he canceled some of his lessons?

Sitting down, he voiced his question, mouth watering at the appetizing smells.

Lan Zhan filled both of their plates, picking out for him nearly exactly what Wei Ying would have chosen, and answered, "I reserved the gazebo, but my brother set this up less than an hour ago." Wei Ying was incredibly grateful for Lan Huan. His food was still hot!

The meal passed mostly in silence. Though Lan Zhan had no problem talking over tea, he did not like to have a conversation around bites of food. For once, Wei Ying was happy not to say anything, simply appreciating the companionship and good meal.

He tried not to think too much about why Lan Zhan was doing all of this. He wasn't stupid, was in fact painfully and adoringly aware of the romantic setting, but that fear he had thought long since gone crept around his heart, daring him to hope and be crushed in its vindication. So he swallowed his words and ate his food in borrowed peace.

By the time they finished, Wei Ying's stomach was pleasantly full and he beamed at Lan Zhan, thanking him for the meal. Lan Zhan nodded and stood up, helping Wei Ying to his feet and leading him to the waiting cushion and—Wei Ying hoped—the performance.

"You really prepared!" He teased, pulling the blanket over himself.

Lan Zhan turned on the heater—the quiet, expensive kind—and hummed.

Then, he lowered himself onto his own cushion (sans blanket) and reached out to his guqin, warming up for a moment before glancing at Wei Ying, a suddenly hesitant edge to his eyes. "Are you ready?"

Wei Ying's smile softened and he nodded, fondness for the talented man before him almost unbearable. Lan Zhan returned his focus to the instrument and began to play.

It felt like the constant tug around his heart, like the many words that lay behind them and the greater part left unspoken, like 6:05 in the morning and laughter that tastes like coffee beans.

He closed his eyes and let the music fill him, heart thrumming in time with the music and creating  streams of pure feeling that branched out through his body until it reached his left palm. Wei Ying curled his hand in on itself. He wanted to memorize the sensation, its slight pain magnified and singular, but still a pull, a tug on his very soul. The feeling that encouraged him, warned him around Lan Zhan, his longing.

Wei Ying opened his eyes, simply gazing at where Lan Zhan kneeled behind his guqin, the gazebo’s lights framing his form as his graceful hands plucked at the strings, playing a song straight from his soul. He breathed in the cold air, letting it calm him and douse the burning in his veins.

As he played, Wei Ying felt his fear melt in the face of the pure emotion Lan Zhan channeled through the strings, felt his guilt harden into resolve because Lan Zhan didn’t know.

He kept silent for the moment, though. He needed to let Lan Zhan finish the piece, not only because silencing those strings now when all of Lan Zhan’s soul shaped the notes seemed cruel, but also because Wei Ying was greedy, and selfish. He wanted to keep this last, perfect memory, wanted to lock it in his heart like a golden thorn, a stolen parting gift if his words were not welcomed.

And so Lan Zhan played.

Wei Ying could not say how long it was before the song ended, could only center his mind around the swirling clouds that he knew curled across his palm, hidden like a shame when they were anything but. Finally, the last notes faded like acceptance into the cold night, and Wei Ying breathed in, and out, and longed.

“Lan Zhan.” It came out as a whisper, a ghost of a declaration. He needed a barrier between the song and his precipice of honesty. “What-” he stalled, biting back the hope, the despair. “What did you name it?”

Lan Zhan raised his gaze from where it had been fixed on the instrument, seeking out Wei Ying. He stood up in one smooth motion and crossed to where Wei Ying sat, pinned beneath golden eyes filled with something . An emotion he hadn’t seen, hadn’t categorized.

Carefully, Lan Zhan lowered himself to sit on the large cushion. He slid his gaze to Wei Ying’s left hand clenched on his knee, lifting his own and gently taking it, seeming to gauge Wei Ying’s reaction, but he only tilted his head in confusion. Why..?

Lan Zhan began pulling off his glove.

Wei Ying yanked his hand back. He couldn’t- why would he? He was going to tell him about the mark, but why did he want to know? Did he suspect he was Unmoving? Would he hate him if he knew the truth? That Wei Ying had played him for a fool, too cowardly to tell him about their bond?

At the stressed, almost wounded look in Lan Zhan’s eyes, Wei Ying made an aborted movement, reaching to comfort him. “Oh, Lan Zhan��” he breathed. He didn’t touch him, but after a moment of hesitation, offered his hand to his soulmate, palm up. Lan Zhan had merely been braver than he had, after all. The result would be the same.

Lan Zhan’s eyes softened and he carefully tugged off the glove, revealing the incriminating, promising, honest pattern. Twisting designs of blue clouds and red lotuses covered both their palms, side by side, blurred together as his throat closed and breath hitched. He made to move away, to leave Lan Zhan with the knowledge of his lie, but his wrist was gently but firmly held in place.

He sighed. Lan Zhan wanted him to say it, to confess, and suddenly the courage of a few minutes ago seemed out of his reach.

“Lan Zhan, you’re so good. Too good. Too good for me.” His breath caught. “I- I’ve known. This whole time.” He looked Lan Zhan in his clear, gentle eyes. “Lan Zhan. We’re soulmates. We have been since you got drunk at the bar.” He let out a shaky laugh, the first tear making its way down his cheek. “Well, I suppose we’ve been soulmates forever, but I found you then, and fell in love a little. You don’t remember, but you said you were happy. You went around showing random people your mark.” He was rambling again, but he couldn’t stop and nor could he leave.

He released it all, all of the caged words he should have laid at Lan Zhan’s feet a week ago. “I was so excited when you called me that morning. I thought you wanted to talk, to form a real relationship, but then you- you wouldn’t listen and it wasn’t your fault , you’d been drunk for the first time in your life, had a killer hangover I’m sure. But I- I thought if I called you, you’d just do the same thing again and leave me but then we became friends and I didn't want you to leave so I didn’t tell you and-”

“I am not.” Lan Zhan cut him off, voice quiet and pained, but firm.

“What?” he sniffled.

“I have not left you. I am not abandoning you, Wei Ying.” His eyes were pleading, filled with sincerity. He looked—so earnest and Wei Ying froze, uncertain.

“But—you hate lying.”

“I do not like hypocrites either. Wei Ying-” He looked away for the first time and Wei Ying panicked for a brief moment, what did I do wrong , before Lan Zhan spoke again, ears a deeper shade of red. “I knew too. This whole time.”

“What.” What?? Whatever Wei Ying had been expecting, it hadn’t been this.

“My brother was there at the bar. He...told me the next morning, but I did not handle the news well. I am sorry. I was simply surprised, and nervous. I did not remember you.”

Wei Ying was reeling. Lan Zhan knew and didn’t tell him but that was unfair because Wei Ying hadn’t told him either, so they’d both known, separately, and here they were, taking each other on a date and Wei Ying laughed, crazed at first, and desperate, but then an exclamation of pure joy. The atmosphere was romantic, after all.

He laughed and laughed and like a guqin string worn from loving use, the tension broke. He threw himself at his soulmate, at Lan Zhan, and hugged him until Lan Zhan hugged him back, until their eyes stung from tears and their voices grew hoarse from repeating the other’s name.

Wei Ying pulled back, cheeks flushed in the cold and eyes shining as he looked up at a soft smile. He reached out, cupping Lan Zhan’s cheek and resting their foreheads together, the contact burning, melting the longing that had become a permanent fixture  inside of him. Breaths mingled, puffing out in this warm space between them for a timeless moment.

With confidence born not from instinct or daring, but rather a heart securely held, he closed the distance between them, brushing winter-chapped lips against Lan Zhan’s soft ones, his last confession a raw whisper, returned with the same gravity it was given.

From then on, he held this warm truth in his heart: Lan Zhan loved Wei Ying, his soulmate.

Breathless and overwhelmed, he entwined their hands, bared patterns moving against each other, together. Nothing lay between them now, no confessions and no secrets. Only these: a prayer, a completed promise, and a bright future.

Extra:

“So, how did you know?” Wei Ying asked, exploring Lan Zhan’s purse.

He hummed, amused. “You told me yourself.”

“I did not! I’m pretty sure that was, like, goal number one. ‘Don’t tell Lan Zhan!’” he recited, voice playfully serious.

Lan Zhan brushed the hair out of Wei Ying’s eyes and took his left hand, fingers tracing the evidence of their bond.

“You waved.”

“But I had on gloves- oh.” He hadn’t, not yet. He only started wearing them after Lan Zhan had walked in the first day. “So you walked into some random shop and saw your soulmate who immediately disappeared.”

“Mn.” Lips brushed the top of his head.

Wei Ying laughed at himself as he went back to the purse. You could learn a lot from what a person kept in theirs! He pulled out a piece of paper, a half-composed score, handing it to Lan Zhan and looking deeper. Some chapstick (no wonder his lips were so soft!), several pens, a book on music theory, and—what was this? He grabbed it and brought it to the light. One of the cafe’s napkins, something wrapped inside. What? He peeled away the months-old paper, a breath caught in his lungs as the object was revealed.

It was the cookie, the heart-shaped ginger crisp he’d given Lan Zhan the first time he’d taken his order.

“You! What am I going to do with you!” he laughed, the sound bright and joyful as he tackled his soulmate in a hug.

“Marry me.”

“WHAT?!!”

[julesnjd]

rēˈbərth -- Mason

Aurora, Stella, and Mason left the Conway University area around eight in the morning with the following in the trunk of Stella’s Chevy Chevelle: ten deer bones sitting in a bag of water, a large Taco Bell cup taped shut and full of blood from a pregnant dog, one plastic tupperware container of freshwater pearl oysters, a bottle of red wine, and a bottle of olive oil, three plastic bags full of herb sprigs they’d tied last night, and various sizes of metal bowls and multiple different kinds of knives. It was like they were going to record the weirdest outdoor cooking video ever. Aurora Yamamoto, a Japanese trickster demon with an air of casual indifference sat in the passenger seat. Stella, a vampire, drove while tapping her toes against the gas pedal in time with the classic rock blaring from the radio. Mason, the witch, hid herself in a hoodie in the backseat like she didn’t want to be there despite this whole thing being her idea. 

Two weeks ago, Juliet Hill, Mason’s roommate-slash-almost-girlfriend and everyone’s friend, was found face up in the lake on their college campus. It had been ruled a suicide. Her death had left Mason a mess. She’d gone so deep into her grief that she could hardly even say Juliet’s name. It still took a second to get it out from between her teeth.

Mason had sprayed the hoodie, the one Juliet loved most of all her clothes that represented some numetal band she loved, with some of Juliet’s lavender perfume before they left Stella’s apartment. It smelled like her. She couldn’t stop holding the sleeves against her nose. There were still a few blonde hairs strewn around on the hoodie that Mason couldn’t bring herself to remove either. She was also wearing the Saint Monica College sweatpants Juliet always stole from her. Both of these things would go on Juliet’s body as soon as she was back with them. If she was back with them.

She hoped to have Juliet back by dawn. 

A week ago, Mason had been visited in a dream by her patron goddess, Bast. She could still hear Bast’s voice in her mind when she thought about it: “This is an imbalance, my child. I will lead you to right it.” It hadn’t been the first time Mason thought that Juliet didn’t deserve to die. She’d been thinking it from the moment it happened. Juliet was too young. She was in the middle of her redemption arc, for lack of a better term. She was turning into a better person. Of course, those had been Juliet’s own words, but it still applied. She hadn’t wanted to die anymore. She’d gone through eighteen years of being the unwanted trouble child, of ruining relationships, of suicidal thoughts, of doing other things that she had only alluded to Mason about yet, but had finally made it to a good place in her life. Of course, that was when he took her. 

So Mason was going to bring her back. Well, Stella and Aurora were helping, and so was some human they hadn’t found yet. She didn’t understand why Juliet couldn’t just be friends with a human for once, still. Maybe it had something to do with the repressed siren magic that had to be in her blood, since her twin was a siren. Mason blinked and stared at the back of the car seat in front of her. What if that complicated things? What if they needed siren blood, not human blood? The spell wasn’t for a siren. What if this didn’t work because of that? 

“Turn left.” The GPS voice snapped Mason back into the present. Stella and Aurora were talking back and forth in the front seat. Their voices melded with the radio commercials in Mason’s ears as soon as her eyes landed on the clay dolls in her lap. She was keeping them as close to her person as possible to continue the flow of life into the dolls. One represented Juliet. The other represented Mason. If-- After Juliet took her first breath, Mason would have to tie the dolls together and burn them in order to bind their souls. It was the only way to keep Juliet on Earth, an aspect Aurora had advised her was missing from the spell. 

Mason had made the dolls by hand. They’d taken over an hour to make. She’d mixed the clay in a pot in Stella’s cheap apartment kitchen, transferred the clay to two mixing bowls, and formed each doll while thinking about the person they would represent. Juliet’s doll had hairs picked off the same sweatshirt Mason was wearing massaged into it, but otherwise it hardly represented Juliet. It was necessary for Mason to think about Juliet while forming the doll. She hadn’t given her this much thought since two weeks ago when Juliet died. 

She really missed her. She missed the goofy, toothy grin Juliet would give her when she almost got caught doing something she shouldn’t be. She missed Juliet’s lavender and honey perfumes, or the scent of the green apple shampoo and conditioner Jules used in her tangled mess of curly hair. She missed trying to figure out the best way to describe the color of Juliet’s eyes. The closest she’d come was seafoam, but even that wasn’t right. They were more blue than green. She missed trying to count the freckles on Juliet’s cheeks (106 was the highest she’d gotten) while Jules rambled about something Mason didn’t know much about, like her art classes or things she’d learned in her psychology classes. She missed the tone of her voice when she was talking like that. Her ridiculous laugh that Mason had to coax out of her on the first day they met. Juliet’s hand in hers, even if their palms grew sweaty while they walked together. Juliet’s snoring and sleep talking waking Mason up at night, turned into sleepwalking the night before an exam. Singing in the car together. Everything, every moment Mason had with Juliet was flashing through her mind like she was reliving the last moments of her own life… Which she very well could have been. Nothing felt right without Juliet there too. 

She looked down at the formed and dried doll in her hand, trying to hold back her tears. It was lumpy and brown, and to make it even worse it hardly even looked like a person. Her own wasn’t much better off, with her own saliva mixed into it. It looked even less like a person than Juliet’s.

They arrived in Traverse City, a tourist city on the edge of Lake Michigan, about two hours after leaving. The entire drive had seen them surrounded by trees, water, and other cars along the highway. Traverse City was Juliet’s hometown. As soon as they hit downtown, it made sense. Stella’s car coasted through the streets downtown, passing local shops, restaurants, and glimpses of the lake. People lined the sidewalks, excited to take in the summer day, some of them dressed in swimsuits and sheer cover-ups, others a bit more modest. It was easy to picture Juliet wandering these streets with her sister or friends, laughing loud, excusing herself when she inevitably bumped into someone while walking backwards. Hopefully, she’d be able to take Mason shopping there soon. Mason tried going over the Greek for the spell incantations in her head. Fuck if she knew what it meant. Aurora had translated it for her, but she could barely remember. Something about giving Juliet’s soul back. 

They stopped at the rundown motel they’d booked and set everything they could need up in the room. They had lunch at a place Juliet had talked about multiple times before, where Mason ordered Juliet’s favorite burger. They went to visit her gravesite afterward.

The walk along the path from the parking spaces of the graveyard was hard. Last time Mason had been here was the funeral, where Juliet’s mother complained about how sad she was having lost her daughter all while smiling and chatting on the phone, even during the eulogy. It had disgusted even Rosaline, Juliet’s twin and their mother’s perfect daughter, to the point of shouting. Juliet would have both hated it and loved it. 

The day was comfortably hot in a hoodie and sweats, which was the average of a day in late April. Mason walked alone right now, having left the others at the car after asking for some alone time with Juliet. It would help her feel closer. 

When she arrived at the grave, Mason sat on the grass in front of the stone. It was already showing signs of wear. There were new flowers set in front of it, on the grass. They’d been knocked over. White roses were scattered sideways, looking just a little trampled, and the vase they’d been in was pink and black. Rosaline probably left them. They were Jules’ favorite flower and the vase was Rosa and Juliet’s favorite colors. Mason picked them up as carefully as she could, swearing softly when thorns on the first two stung her. Once the vase was upright again and all six flowers were looking better, she traced Juliet’s name with her pinky fingertip. 

“You’ll be okay,” Mason whispered. “We’re going to make sure of that. I already told Mama that Stella’s coming home with me after a couple more days around Conway. She’s excited to see Stell, since they used to be friends too. Apparently they went to college together, back when Stella was in college for the first time. That’s something I’ve got to tell you about. It was weird seeing them all buddy-buddy at the funeral.” She laughed weakly. “I think Mama’ll be excited to see you. And she’ll definitely take you in. There’s no way she wouldn’t, especially after how your mom acted at your funeral. You won’t ever have to see your mom again. We’ll take care of you. My family’ll just get even bigger.” She tapped the headstone with splayed fingers. “I can’t wait to see you again, see you breathing and shit. Even if it’s weird. Even if you’re weird. I can’t tell you how many laws I’m breaking to get you here, Julesy. Supernatural and human laws. We’re getting you back tonight. No matter what. I’ll have my best friend back. We can bring more new flowers here tomorrow, too. And get you some to have for yourself.

“I’m doing the right thing by bringing you back, though, right? Stella and Aurora seem to think I’m fucked in the head. They’re indulging me and miss you, so they’re helping, but it feels weird. It feels like they’re-- They already said they’re prepping for the worst. They said they talked about how they’d take care of it if you came back wrong in some way. I didn’t even know that was a possibility. I thought you either came back or you didn’t.” She rubbed her hands together, then started plucking lightly at the tips of the grass, snapping them off with her fingernails. “I just… I wish I knew where you are. Are you in Heaven or Hell? Do those places even exist? What makes one better or worse than the other? I wish I knew so I could know if I need to help you or if I could leave you alone and you’d be happy. I feel like everything’s a fucking wish without you though. I miss you. I want you back.” She sighed weakly, staring at the gravestone and rubbing a blade of grass between her fingers. “I’m so selfish.”

Mason rubbed the headstone one more time for good luck. As she approached the lot, she caught a glimpse of someone standing in the distance, leaning against the car. He was at the car. He killed Juliet. He was going to hurt Stella and Aurora. “Hey!” Mason shouted, starting toward the car. “Get the fuck away from them!”

Andrew Roberts was standing by the car, looking at Mason like she was some bird waddling toward them instead of a powerful witch running at the guy who killed her best friend. She shoved hard at his chest, taking him to the ground and slamming her foot down on his chest hard enough to make him cough. “What the fuck is your issue?” she snapped. “I told you I didn’t need your help. I told you to fuck off. You caused this.”

The last time Mason saw Andrew, he was handing her sheets of paper he’d ripped from a book in the Conway library restricted section. He had threatened to turn her in for attempting an illegal spell if she turned him in for killing Juliet. It was the moment she’d realized Juliet was more important than getting legal justice. Mason could turn him in later, after she had Juliet back. She didn’t want him anywhere near them right now, though. He was the one who killed her for some demon named Kalos. For all she knew, he was going to fuck up their spell so Juliet was required to stay wherever she was. 

“Mason!” Aurora hissed, shoes slapping the pavement of the sidewalk as she hopped off the trunk of the car. “Leave him alone. He’s helping us. Andrew, tell her.”

“Like fuck he is! We don’t need him.”

“We do!” Aurora shouted. Her voice was shrill and loud now. “Shut up and listen for once in your life!” 

Mason shut up, glaring at Andrew as hard as she could. She wished she could rip his head off already. With her bare hands. They were in a cemetery. It’d be easy to bury him. 

Andrew spoke, his voice quiet and trembling. He sat up now that Mason’s foot was off his chest, rubbing at his arms and pushing his long, greasy dark hair off his face. “I didn’t want to kill her. Kalos was going to kill me if I didn’t, though.” He got to his feet, carefully keeping his eyes away from everyone else’s. “I left the watcher he has on me and Aurora is keeping me hidden. I want to help. You need human blood, they just told me. I want to give it. I can spot him easier, too. And I-- She wasn’t a bad person. She doesn’t deserve his f-”

“We need him,” Aurora explained, interrupting him. “He’s the only human we have who’s willing to give the spell blood. We need him. I don’t care what vengeance you have against him right now. Isn’t bringing Juliet back a thousand times more important to you than this?”

Mason’s fingers curled into fists. Her nails dug into her palm hard enough to sting. “A million times more. This piece of shit doesn’t matter to me at all.” She looked away from him, lips pursed. “I don’t want him anywhere near any of the stuff we have prepped. He waits in the car while we get the body tonight. I don’t want him alone unless he’s in the bathroom, and even that’s got a time limit. Got it?” She looked at him. “Got it?” 

Andrew nodded and Mason got in the car without another word. He sat in the backseat on the passenger side. Mason glared at him briefly, then settled for looking out the window instead. Hopefully they’d need enough human blood to bleed him out. She really hoped so. 

☥☥

The night air was cool and crisp, as it usually was during the summer. It smelled like soil and decay in the cemetery. The moon was full. Mason’s power felt strong, which was astounding for the night. It was necessary. She was invoking every deity she could tonight. She was bringing life back into a corpse tonight.

Mason stopped to scratch at her neck. Mosquitoes were rampant right now, and the dirt flying up as she dug toward the casket was not helping the itch. She swore softly and kept digging. Her hands hurt at this point. The shovel they’d brought was not meant to be used for so long.  

Aurora had already started her illusion. Apparently it seemed to others that they were doing a prayer circle around the grave or having a picnic, an activity that screamed "leave us alone.” Stella brought out the pry bar and sledgehammer from her trunk once Mason hit the concrete burial vault.

Everything was real. They were going to rob Juliet from her grave. Mason got out of the

grave with Stella’s help. 

Mason leaned against the car, trying to ignore the pain in her hands as she watched Aurora and Stella use the sledgehammer to break the liner open, then wedge the pry bar between the nailed edges of the coffin. She held her palms out flat, facing the stars, and breathed out slowly. She started praying softly to Bast, asking her to make sure this pain didn’t cause an issue in the spell she was meant to complete. She didn’t know what else to do right now. It was pain from digging combined with pain from the thorn pricks earlier. She hadn’t told anyone yet, but the thorns had apparently embedded in her skin. They’d broken off from the roses and were painful as hell, but Mason had to work around them. Massaging them out from her skin earlier had proven a difficult but fruitful task, albeit one that left behind red marks and a dull ache spreading from her fingers to her palms.

Now that doubt was planted in her mind again. She’d doubted this entire thing two days ago, when Aurora revealed to her that she’d seen a resurrection only once before and no one had come out alive. There was a risk that Juliet wouldn’t come back normal no matter what, demon thorns involved or not. It wasn’t like resurrection spells were listed in a book of 10 Things Every Witch Should Know! or anything. They were illegal as hell and involved some illegal things, both human and supernatural. It went against everything Mason was for, yet here she was, doing this. 

Juliet’s death had really fucked with her head, huh? 

It took them a minute, but soon enough Mason heard a loud, “Holy fuck, that reeks!” from Stella, followed by Aurora’s high pitched giggling. 

Things were going to be alright. They had to be. 

She wandered away from the car after they lifted Juliet’s body out of the hole wrapped in a sheet. They needed to be careful with her and keep her as still as possible. They didn’t want to risk hurting her too much. It wasn’t like Mason couldn’t heal whatever broken limbs or whatever happened, but it wouldn’t work on a dead body. She’d have to bring Juliet back, bind their souls, then use her remaining energy to heal whatever happened to her. It wouldn’t be pretty. That much energy, actually, could kill Mason, and that would ruin the whole plan. It was beyond risky. 

Andrew got out of the car to open the trunk when Stella and Aurora gathered up the ends of the sheet Juliet was wrapped in and lifted her. They settled her in the trunk and Aurora and Stella drove her back to the motel alone, leaving Andrew and Mason to fill the grave and replace the sod. 

While they were gone, Andrew filled the grave again for Mason. She couldn’t move her hands very well. He’d definitely noticed her stiffness, because he immediately started on it without question. She watched him quietly at first, then sighed and sat down on the edge of the grave. Her feet dangled just a little down toward the cracked concrete burial vault and coffin. He glanced up at her for a second as he pushed greasy hair out of his eyes, then looked back at the dirt he was pushing into the empty grave. Mason watched him for a minute, then sighed. Silence was awkward. “Why would you kill all those people? If I were you, I’d’ve killed myself before killing them.”

Andrew stared at her for a second. The shovel in his hand was steady as he stared, then he nodded once. “I want to stay alive,” he admitted. “It’s a better life than the one I was living before.”

Mason stared at him. “I’d rather be dead than know I’m putting someone through this pain.”

“The only people close to me who’ve died deserved it.” Andrew shoved some more dirt into the hole, then stuck the tip of the shovel into the grass. He looked up to meet her eyes. His gaze was always so emotionless. “I didn’t know Juliet was so close to all of you until it was too late. This is the first time I’m dealing with this.”

“Does it make you want to stop?”

Andrew was silent. 

Maybe it was just something Mason would never be able to understand.

Mason stared at the dirt as he tossed it into the grave. It made her think of Juliet’s funeral, when her dad had tossed the first handful of dirt into the grave after the vault containing the coffin was lowered. It was tradition. Death was a weird process for the living. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again to say, “I don’t know if I should be bringing her back.”

Andrew stopped transferring dirt for a minute, then sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you. The spell I gave you takes her out of a spell I completed for Kalos.” He met Mason’s eyes. His didn’t waver as he spoke. “She’s not in a good place. She needs saved.”

Mason stared right back at him, then sucked in a shaking, crisp breath once she remembered to. “Really?”

He nodded once, then went right back to placing dirt without a single word. 

For some reason, Mason started thinking about how, a couple months ago Juliet had told Mason something that someone in her psychology course had told her about people lying. “Liars look into your eyes dead on when lying because society told them shifty eyes are a sign of a liar. Eyes shift around when you’re telling the truth.” 

“Help me with the sod.”

☥☥☥

On their way into the motel room, Mason watched Andrew squash a pearly white maggot into the fibres of the carpet. It had probably fallen from Juliet’s body. Was she full of maggots? Mason really didn’t want to picture that. She didn’t even want to picture Juliet’s corpse at all.

Luckily, she didn’t have to. The sight was right in front of her when she followed Stella and Aurora into the bathroom, Andrew trailing between them. He stared at the body, then looked at Mason, who was slowly losing her composure. Juliet’s body was right in front of her, in a bathtub, looking worse than she’d ever even considered it could look. 

Mason hadn’t expected her to look so dead. Her skin was starting to turn yellow, and there were bugs crawling across her face. Whatever makeup the mortician had put on her was caked into her face and dried out, making her lips a weird bright matte red and her eyelids a greenish-black. The dress she was buried in was covered in dirt, but had held up pretty well. It was a shame she couldn’t be wearing it. Her legs looked normal, and so did everything else. She just looked like she was sleeping in a weird position with makeup on and… Mason exhaled slowly, trying not to breathe in the stench. It was awful, like Mason’s bedroom that time she’d hidden weeks of uneaten food from her mama, but somehow worse. 

“Andrew, get out,” she said quietly. 

He obliged, standing within view of the bathroom door so Mason could keep an eye on him. It was a wonder how good of a sport he was being about this. It made her feel even more uneasy about believing what he’d told her at the grave. 

Mason licked her lips, then looked at Stella and Aurora. “Who’s doing this? She needs to be as clean as possible.” 

“Stell, you’re the one with the undead expertise,” Aurora said happily, smacking her on the shoulder. 

Stella scoffed. “Maybe Mason should! She’s the one who has to spend all this time with Juliet. Plus it feels weird, I’m almost seventy and Juliet’s only, like, a couple months into eighteen. Gross. Plus Mason’s seen her like this before.”

Mason looked at Stella. “Do you want me to throw up? I can’t do it anyway, I have to be as pure as possible. Touching her would be like dying or something. It’s weird.”

Stella groaned and then sank to her knees by the tub. “Fine.” 

Mason did hang out in the bathroom, though, watching Stella carefully run her hands over Juliet’s skin after using scissors to cut into the dress. Stella was doing it all with care. She rubbed water gently over Juliet’s stomach, cleaning out the autopsy scar along her chest and between her ribs. She tried to run her hands through Juliet’s hair, but the second Mason saw a clump of curls break out into Stella’s hands, she stopped her. Stella cleaned under Juliet’s fingernails gently with a dollar store toothbrush. 

Mason watched her, having moved closer at this point. She stared at the dirt coming out from under the nails into the toothbrush. The dull ache in her own hands increased every time she thought about it. She could deal with the pain. It didn't matter. 

Her eyes lifted up to Juliet’s face. The makeup was running down it now. Stella couldn’t rub hard enough to take it off without risking harm. What mattered was Juliet, and this wasn't going to slow her down. Nothing could slow her down now. 

Andrew and Stella moved Juliet’s body back into the center of the room. While Stella cleaned Juliet’s body with Mason’s supervision, Andrew and Aurora had pushed the bed into the corner and stacked the nightstand and whatever else they could on top of it to get as much room as possible. It was a mess, and the carpet would definitely be stained, but they could hide it with the bed again. It would work out. Everything would work out. 

Stella climbed up on the bed carefully to take down the smoke alarm. She knocked the batteries out of it and dropped it into the drawer of the nightstand to keep it safe. Andrew locked the door and tugged the curtains closed. Mason took out all of the sheets of paper they’d copied, scrawled all over, and drawn on. They had every single note she needed, the timing for everything. Aurora set the fire pit on the floor not too far from Mason or Juliet’s body, filled it with fire wood, and lit it. 

The fire sparked to life. Mason shivered. 

It was time.

Eyes closed, Mason took a deep breath, then reached forward to cut the stitches holding Juliet’s lips closed as carefully as she could with a small paring knife. Juliet’s lips parted gradually, her jaw falling slack without the pressure of the stitching keeping it tight. She followed that with the same action on the stitches holding her eyelids closed. Her eyelids fell open, exposing pink muscle, ruptured seafoam blue, and gray-white. Her eyeballs were sunken, deflated sacs of some kind of liquid. Mason’s grip on the knife handle tightened. She pried Juliet’s lips apart gently, making sure her mouth hung open wide. 

After that came the hard part. Mason gestured for Stella to come close. Stella helped her break up the deer bones, using her vampire strength to snap them. They scraped out as much bone marrow as possible into one of the metal bowls they’d brought. It was hard not to think about how weird it looked. It was like a weird pink hummus. It smelled awful, though. She followed that with a generous pour of the dog blood. She then mixed the two slowly with her fingers, thinking of Juliet. She had to bring her back. This was to bring her back. Juliet’s soul mattered most of anyone’s. She finished mixing the two and reached into the container Stella had opened for her to grab an oyster. She smacked it hard on the floor, then pried open the crack she’d made with her knife. She sliced into the meat of the oyster. She cut the meat up further into pieces as small as she could, then scooped it into the mixture. The pearl fell last. Mason plucked it out and set it gently in the dip of Juliet’s collarbone. She pressed the mixture together with her fingers. 

Once she was done with that, she scooped a gentle handful out of the bowl and whispered to herself as she gently smeared some of the mixture along Juliet’s sternum, between her bare breasts, between her ribs, to her navel, along the stitching of her autopsy cut. Her finger bumped along the uneven stitching as she whispered her prayer. Prayers went to Anubis, to Osiris, to Ra, to Bast, to Iris, to Zeus, to Hades, Enki, Nergal, and in general anyone who would help them purely, to bring them life, rebirth, rejuvenation, revival, resuscitation, resurrection, life, life, life. It was all Mason focused on. What she told the others to focus on. 

The energy of the room amped up gradually with every prayer. Mason’s fingers glided over Juliet’s limbs with the mixture. She followed the covering of Juliet’s body with her own, smearing the paste down her forehead, along her nose, over her lips, and down to her heart. She was in one of Juliet’s bras and a pair of her sweatpants. Mason placed her entire hand into the mixture, then placed her bloody palm on her ribs over her heart as she sent out the last prayer, a repeat to Bast, begging her to give her the energy necessary to restore life. 

Next came the offerings. While Mason was busy with her prayer and the mixture, Aurora poured generous amounts of wine and olive oil into cups and handed them around to everyone. Mason received hers last. She took the plastic cup in her hands, one wrapped around the curve of the cup, the other covering the opening. She was quiet for a breath before she turned the cup to the side and slowly let the mixture pour out onto the carpet of the motel. Her eyes remained closed. When the cup became weightless in her hand, she opened her eyes. There was no stain. There was no stain in front of any of them. She reached up to her ears and removed her authentic gold earrings, holding them in her palms, a piece of lavender infused chocolate between them. She stayed with them extended, palms flat, until the chocolate had melted into her palms. When she opened her eyes again, the contents of her palms were gone. 

Mason stood when she was done with that. She moved to the fire, burning larger in the metal pit now. She picked up the Snoopy, holding it gently in her hands. She pressed her lips to its forehead. When she pulled away, there was a bloody lip mark on the white fur. It pained her to do this. It really did. She held the plush toy over the flames. “Juliet has kept this safe since birth. She has slept with it every night for the past eighteen years. I offer this to you, gods, as a sacrifice. Her most precious possession, for your taking.” She lowered it into the flames, setting it gently on the pile of wood. “She’s going to kill me for doing this.” She smiled slightly as she said it. She leaned over the fire and inhaled the smoke produced from burning the fabric, then breathed it out as she spoke the sacrificial incantation. Her eyes lingered briefly on Andrew, who was standing near the door, entranced as he watched the events of the spell unfold. She made herself look away from him. She couldn’t afford malice. 

She turned away and grabbed a clean knife. This one was larger than the paring knife. This one was for the living. 

Mason started with Stella. She held her hand out to take Stella’s. Her fingers wrapped around Stella’s wrist to hold her in place, her hand straight, palm angled down over Juliet’s gaping mouth. Mason sliced into the flesh of Stella’s palm slowly and methodically. She curled Stella’s fingers in, ignoring the pained hisses, and squeezed her hand as tightly together as she could. Blood poured out from her palm into Juliet’s mouth, onto her teeth, onto her tongue. Once she had enough, Mason let go of Stella’s hand and helped her stand. She gestured for Andrew to step forward. 

Mason would be lying if she said she didn’t get some satisfaction from the ritualistic slicing into Andrew’s palm. She pushed the knife as deep as she could, slower than she had for Stella. She pushed it, tearing through his skin, his fat, his muscle, until she hit bone. He didn’t make a single sound. She curled his hand in the way she had Stella’s, holding it over Juliet’s mouth. His blood came out much faster, as he was human and his wound was deeper. She moved his wrist slowly, dragging it up to drip just slightly into Juliet’s eye sockets, then down to pour into her autopsy cut. When she was done, she helped him stand. 

Now for herself. She stopped to take a breath to steel herself, then dug the blade into her palm. It sliced easily into her skin, past her own fat and muscle. She could feel the tearing. She let her blood pour into Juliet’s mouth, mixing with the human blood and vampire blood. She followed this by placing small sprigs of sage, ivy, and aloe vertically over her mouth and horizontally over her ribs. When she was done, she turned her hand so her palm hovered over Juliet’s mouth. She spoke.

“O theoí iketévoume gia ti voítheiá sas to éleós sou kai tous epaínous sou. Epistrofí psychís sto sóma kai to aíma…”

O gods we beg for your aid, your mercy and your praise. Return soul to body and blood. With life let this cavity flood.

The more Mason spoke, the more exhaustion threatened. Despite this, she could feel the energy taking over the room. The air rippled like sound waves. Her fingers prickled like they were asleep. The fire burned brighter. Mason wasn't sure if it was herself, the gods, or something else. The fire began to burn at a higher speed, crackling loud and increasing in size by the second. 

Then it was gone. All that remained were crumbling white clumps of ashed out wood. 

The fire grew out of control, not widening but spreading upwards, almost touching the ceiling. The windows clattered. The ground shook like there was a low-intensity earthquake happening right there in their room. 

The stuff of horror movies.

This wasn't a horror movie, though.

This was going to bring Juliet back. 

Mason was more sure of that than she ever had been.

She cradled Juliet's face in her palms, pulling her closer as the cheap coffee maker crashed to the floor. The glass decanter shattered. The lamp threatened to do the same, but it stayed on the dresser. The painting above the beds swung wildly on one wire, connected to the ceiling by a flimsy nail that threatened to fall out with the movement.

Mason wasn't focused on any of it at all. She was looking at Juliet. Her Juliet. The girl she loved. The one who took Mason out of her shell, brought light and life out of her. Brought life out of everyone. The one Mason felt like she'd known all her life, who deserved a life. This was an imbalance.

She was righting a wrong. That counted. She was doing it. She could feel it. She could. She felt like she was going to pass out. The pain in her palm spread to her chest. She couldn’t…

She took a deep breath, focusing on Juliet's face, ignoring everything else. One hand on her chest, over her heart. The other on her cheek. Fighting to keep chanting, the words known to heart already. 

She was going to wake up. She was going to be okay. She could feel her energy.

And Aurora's energy. She hadn't realized she'd been chanting with her for the past couple minutes, reading from the pages. 

She could almost see it already, Juliet’s eyes opening. Those blue eyes. Those lips turning up in a smile, dimpling in the corners. She needed to see that smile. 

"Come on, Juliet. Wake up," Mason paused her chanting to whisper desperately. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep going, but she would. Until she passed out. Until.... whatever happened. She wasn't stopping. "Wake up!"

Everything stopped. The lamp finally fell onto the carpet, the light going out. The sound of glass and porcelain shattering went unnoticed. Everyone’s chests heaved as they stared at Juliet's body. Her body, lying still on the white and brown-stained bedsheet, curls spread out around her head in a blonde halo. Mason wished Juliet was on a bed of grass, not some shitty scratchy green carpet in an equally shitty motel, the moonlight shining in through the now open curtains, onto Juliet’s pale skin. Mason needed to take her tanning this summer, or else.

Movement. All they needed was one tiny movement. Miniscule. A finger lifting. A heartbeat. A flutter of eyelashes. A shoulder lifting. A muscle flexing. 

A breath.

For the love of every god and goddess in existence, breathe. 

That was the only thing Mason could think as she stared at Juliet’s face. It was a horrific image, the woman she loved laying there dead, mouth gaping open and full of blood, face slack, eyeless. Her eyelashes were clipped where the paring knife had knocked against them. Her hair was patchy from where Stella had pulled a clump out while cleaning her body. She was naked, covered in blood marrow, and laid out on a stained bedsheet. She looked so sad. 

Maybe Mason wasn’t doing the right thing. Maybe Juliet was in Heaven and Andrew had lied to her. Maybe Mason was playing into Kalos’s wishes by bringing Juliet back. It didn’t make sense for Juliet to be in Hell, anyway. She was too perfect. She was funny, loud, confident, passionate, creative, strong, crazy out-going, and so much more that Mason could hardly think about without crying. Juliet’s soul was bright and perfect and Mason was ruining it with all her worry and need. 

All she needed was for Juliet to come back. She couldn’t stop now, even though she wanted to now. Exhaustion was taking over. Doubt was taking over. She didn’t know where Juliet was. She didn’t know anything other than the fact that she needed to complete this spell, so Juliet had to breathe. If she didn’t, they could all die. It was something she’d talked about with Aurora before, when they’d discussed the one other form of the spell Aurora had seen over two hundred years ago. If they didn’t complete it, they’d all be killed.

☥☥

“Wake up!”

Mason’s fist slammed against Juliet’s chest for the third time. “Wake up!” she screamed, then shook her body. “Wake up! Breathe!” 

They’d finished the spell. Everything had gone silent and still. 

It had stayed that way. 

It had taken around three minutes for Mason to start screaming. She’d been screaming at Juliet for the past five minutes. Her throat hurt. Tears and snot were salty in her mouth, combining themselves with the disgusting mixture of raw oyster, dog blood, and bone marrow that had been settling in on her tongue. No one else had moved yet. 

She hit Juliet again. Her head lolled to the side, a stupid bowling ball of useless matter. Blood spilled from her mouth onto the sheet, as useless as her head. As useless as her corpse. As useless as the spell. It was all useless. 

Stella’s hand rested on Mason’s shoulder when she went to hit Juliet’s chest again. “Mason,” she whispered.

Mason felt like her chest had been ripped open. She sucked in a shaking breath. She whispered, voice trembling as she continued the incantation again. Aurora hadn’t stopped. Stella kneeled next to her, hand tight on her shoulder. 

“She’s gone, Mason.” 

“No,” Mason whispered. She shook her head, then placed her hands palm down on Juliet’s chest. She pressed down on her. She went into the incantation again, pressing against Juliet’s chest. She imagined her energy flowing, seeping into Juliet’s skin. She could almost imagine filling Juliet with everything she had for her, all the memories and life Mason saw in her, all the perfection and imperfection Mason had seen from Juliet when she was alive, and even after she had died.

Pressure pressed up against Mason’s palms. Her palms rose and fell with Juliet’s chest, second by second, as air filled her lungs all over again. Hope flooded through Mason, extending from her palms. Mason kept breathing out the incantation, nails digging gently into Juliet’s skin. She could feel blood flowing. There was a heartbeat under there. There was another breath on its way.

Everything went silent again as really did she suck in another breath, even slower than the first. 

Her eyes had closed. They opened just enough for Mason to see blue irises, shockingly blue compared to the black makeup still caked around them. Mason leaned over her more, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. 

“You’re alive.”

“Mason, the bond--” Aurora piped up. 

Mason’s eyes widened and she nodded, grabbing the two clay dolls. She tied them together, then threw them into the burning fire pit with a loud crack, followed by a crackle as they lit up. She started removing the sprigs of herbs from Juliet’s mouth and chest. She helped her sit up, amazed by the chill of Juliet’s skin and the emotion swelling to the surface in her own. Arms flung around Juliet’s shoulders, Mason buried her head in Juliet’s neck and breathed in deep. She smelled like dirt and decay, but she had a heartbeat. She had some semblance of warmth. Why wasn’t she super warm like usual though?

Mason wrote it off fast, because she suddenly felt something flooding down her back and then wriggling. Her entire body stiffened. “What was that?” she asked. 

Juliet’s voice was low, scratchy and quiet as she replied, “I threw up.” 

Mason made a face of disgust. “What did you throw up?”

Stella sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “The blood. And some maggots.”

Mason whined loudly. “Gross! Gross, gross, gross!” She didn’t pull away from Juliet, though. 

Juliet was alive. She was breathing, and she was smiling, and she seemed like she was laughing a little at having thrown up on Mason. She was standing in front of Mason after they got to their feet. She was showering with Mason. She was scrubbing her face clean, scrubbing everything clean… Mason couldn’t stop watching her. She was beautiful. She was alive.

 They laid down together once Mason started yawning every three seconds. Stella and Aurora seemed exhausted too. Aurora left the room with Andrew, though, claiming that she didn’t want to stress Juliet out any further. Coming back to life was stressful enough without the man who killed you sleeping in the same room as you. It didn’t help that Juliet kept staring at Andrew wordlessly while everyone moved the room back to normal.

Actually, she was pretty wordless. She’d hardly spoken since coming back, which was really out of character. Mason watched her. Blonde curls were just starting to poke out of the neck of the sweatshirt by the time Mason spoke. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Juliet replied. She left it at that as she sat down on the bed next to Mason. She looked over Mason’s face. Mason stared back, then smiled at her. She smiled back, but it was tight and closed. Jules didn’t smile like that. Her smile was supposed to be loose and dorky and toothy. It was always a grin, not a tight, closed-lipped thing. 

Mason let it go, though. She was too tired to fret too much yet. She could do that tomorrow. Stella had turned out the light already. They pushed back the covers on the bed together, which made Mason giggle. They laid together, Mason’s legs wrapped around one of Juliet’s. Practically the second Mason’s eyes closed, she was asleep. 

She didn’t know what time it was when she woke, but the moonlight was still coming through the curtains, so she couldn’t have been asleep that long. Mason’s hand was under Juliet’s sweatshirt, though, on her chest. The stitching was still there in Juliet’s skin. It was scratchy against the thorn pricks in Mason’s palm. She’d forgotten about those until now. She could feel Juliet’s chest rising and falling. It was insane to know she’d done this. She’d brought life back into a corpse. Into her best friend. Into the girl she loved. Juliet owed her, like, the best sex ever when they finally did that.

 If they did that. If Juliet was normal. Gods, she hoped Juliet was normal. She seemed mostly normal, just missing some of that spark Mason was accustomed to. Her smile wasn’t the same toothy grin. Her voice wasn’t the same emotional voice. Her eyes didn’t have the same shine. Even her freckles didn’t seem like they were in the right spots at the right intensity. Was there even still more than 106 of them? She’d have to count later.

The shoulder under Mason’s temple shifted. She lifted her head to look at Juliet. Jules was restless. Her head tossed a bit, then her entire body went still. She wasn’t even breathing. Mason felt panic start to set in, but Juliet whispered. 

                            “Juliet Hill is no more.” AUTHOR’S NOTE: Part 2, Juliet, is located HERE. It will provide more insight to what has happened at the end of this piece and in Juliet’s absence! 

[pandemicperipatetics]

Texas Cities: Austin

We spent 1 week in Austin, working from home at an Airbnb with 2 desks(!) in North Austin near a yuppie food/shopping area called The Domain. Most of our exploring was limited to a Friday that we took off work, and we were grateful to have our car to explore different parts of the city. Austin seems like a good place to live, and a fun place to visit anytime besides the extremely hot summer, when we were here. Below are our recommendations!

Veggie Food

Tex Mex We really liked all of these places, but there are plenty of other options in Austin as well!

The Vegan Yacht (south of downtown): Has an especially delicious tempeh burrito called the “freeto” ($9) with fritos! They are a bit salty but add a great crunch. It’s combined with a vegan store that had a really fun selection of vegan items that aren’t always found in grocery stores. Parking: free.

Velvet Taco (multiple locations): We love their korean taco (with tofu) and the cauliflower taco (surprisingly tasty). We tried their other 3 vegetarian tacos and didn’t love them. They have meat options as well. This is a chain that we also enjoyed in Houston. Both locations we visited had outdoor seating and had somewhat of a Chipotle vibe (in a good way). Parking: Varies. It was free and easily available at both locations we tried.

Torchy’s (multiple locations): We really enjoyed their migas taco ($3) for breakfast, friendly service, and outdoor seating. If Velvet Taco : Chipotle then Torchy’s : Taco Bell. We would eat here again. Parking: Free and plentiful at the location we visited south of the river.

Other

1886 Cafe & Bakery (Sixth St): This has turned into much more of a tourist attraction than it was when I was in Austin for SXSW 2012; it is listed as a top 10 Austin attraction on several lists online. While it used to have a slightly upscale vibe and involved full table service, now you line up to order at the counter, it’s more crowded, and the cafe feels slightly dirty. However, the Texas-shaped waffle with pecans, fruit, & whipped cream ($14) is still as delicious as I remembered, and eating in the lobby of the Driskill Hotel is pretty nice. Parking: Difficult. We lucked out and found street parking about a 5-minute walk away. You can pay for street parking using the ATX app or a payment kiosk.

The Driskill Lobby - you can eat your food from 1886 Cafe here.

Flower Child (The Domain): This is a great little vegan chain with True Food Kitchen vibes. We tried it in Dallas and really liked the Glow Bowl and a thai wrap. Parking: The Domain has free parking garages with plenty of space.

Pro Tip: Maybe avoid Indian food in Austin. We heard this from a friend, and tried a pretty highly rated South Indian restaurant in North Austin that was very mediocre.

To Do (Stuff We Liked)

Zilker Park Botanical Garden ($8 non-Austin residents, free with American Horticultural Society membership): This is a very pretty place to visit and walk around. In particular, the Japanese Garden has some stunning ponds and the Prehistoric Garden has a very nice waterfall. It opens at 9am - if you’re here in the summer, go as early as possible to beat the heat! The walking path throughout the garden is somewhat shaded but it is still very hot. And wear comfortable shoes - it can be a bit wet and muddy so sandals are not ideal. Parking: Free and plentiful.

Texas State Capitol (free): We really enjoyed our visit. The building is beautiful and allows visitors to roam freely through the lobby and halls. There are free informational tours every ~30 mins, or you can take a self-guided tour using your mobile phone (you call a phone number and enter a code for each item you want to hear about). We enjoyed visiting the Senate and House chambers - there are even staff there to answer questions. It’s also neat to see the portraits of Texas governors lining the rotunda walls on every floor. The air conditioning makes this a great break from the summer heat, and the restrooms were very clean. 

Parking: You can park at the Capitol Parking Garage for free for up to 2 hours, and rates after that are quite cheap. It’s also just a ~10 min walk from there to Sixth Street, so it could make sense to leave your car here rather than trying to find street parking or paying $30+ to use a downtown parking garage.

St. Elmo Brewing Company (or other breweries): There are lots of breweries in and around Austin! We happened to visit this one and thought the outdoor, shaded picnic table seating was very nice. Half pints were reasonably priced at $3.50-$5 and we really liked the “Since, Like, Forever” (a double IPA). There is also a food truck in the beer garden - we didn’t eat, but it was nice to have as an option. Indoor seating is also good if you need to cool off. Parking: Free and plentiful.

Walnut Creek Metro Park (North Austin): We somewhat randomly visited here on a Thursday evening for a scenic walk. The trail we walked was very pretty and right by a stream. This seems like a great place to visit if you live in Austin. Parking: Free and plentiful.

Sixth Street (downtown Austin): If you’re staying downtown + aren’t as much of a grandma as I am, I can attest from my college days that this can be a fun place to bar hop in the evening and listen to live music. There is also a Velvet Taco on Sixth Street, which is an automatic win.

To Stay:

Our Airbnb was in North Austin, right on the North Star Greenbelt (which was very pleasant for evening walks). The neighborhood was a bit run down and the house seemed very old and run down, so while we didn’t feel unsafe, we don’t necessarily recommend this area. 

Downtown Austin is probably a fun place to stay, but parking is very expensive. We looked at a handful of Marriott Hotels, all of which charged $50 per night for parking. Given this, we were happy to stay away from downtown; the 20-minute drive wasn’t a problem.

[thiswasinevitableid]

75 for Indruck!! and either nsfw or sfw is chill

I went with SFW! 75 “I’m an insomniac who calls my best friend at 3am except I misdial on my landline and I tell you all about my nightmare before letting you talk and now I’m mortified but you don’t hang up

CW: mentions of pot and of death

Indrid awakens in a panic, flailing and falling onto the floor. This is why he doesn’t have a bedframe; the routine falling hurts less from a half foot of drop.

“Ouch.” He says to the empty room, the white noise machine doing nothing to soothe his nerves. Maybe if he stays very still, the nightmares can’t find him.

No. That’s not how this works. Maybe he should see if anyone is awake. He just needs another voice, to know someone can hear him if he screams for help.

He grabs the nearest phone, which happens to be the landline that came with his little studio, and dials Barclay’s number.

“H’lo?” 

“Hello, it’s, ah, it’s Indrid, I, I know it’s late, but I need to talk and you said I could call anytime so I am. I, it, it was the dream again. I’ve been staying up as late as can, not sleeping unless my body just sort of forces me too and I dropped off while drawing and it happened again, the one with the bridge this time, not the one with the car, and I, I fell, like I always do, but this time I, I didn’t, didn’t wake up when, when, when it happened. I’m sorry, just, please, can you talk with me awhile so I can remember I’m here?”

“Uhhhh, sure? But, uh, got a feelin’ you mighta mixed somethin up.”

Indrid’s fairly certain Barclay does not have a southern accent. 

“Oh, oh god, I’m sorry, I dialed wrong didn’t I?”

“Guess so? Don’t know any fella named Indrid, and I’m guessin’ you don’t know anyone named Duck, it’s a nickname.”

“No, I don’t” he curls his legs to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. I was still up, been tryin to beat this level.”

“Why didn’t you hang up?”

“‘Cause you sounded real fuckin scared.”

He was. He still is, his heart a deer still running from long-outrun wolves. 

“Are, uh, are you okay now?”

“I will be fine.”

“I mean, I ain’t a therapist or anythin’ like that but, uh, I can try to help somehow.”

“I’m afraid the only thing that may work is continuing to talk with me which, were I in your shoes, I would not want to do. Christ” he shivers, fumbles in the dark for his sweater, “I need a hug.”

“I can do that.”

“We’re on the phone.”

A small laugh, “no kiddin, here I thought we were at a Taco Bell. I was offerin’ to come over or, uh, wait, no, you better come here, think I might still be a little high so I shouldn’t drive.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“Nope. I live at 5547 Williamson, apartment 2B. Ring the buzzer and I’ll let you in.”

This is ridiculous, how does either of them know the other isn’t planning on wearing their skin as pajamas?

“I’ll see you there.” 

The walk gives him time to second guess himself, then second guess that second guess, and so on until he reaches the three story building that clearly used to be one, family home. He rings the bell for 2B. No one will come down, Duck is probably asleep, or has realized how dangerous his suggestion is.

“Who is it?” The same drawl from the phone, now through the door.

“Indrid. From the phone.”

“Howdy, Indrid from the phone.” Duck opens the door, looking better than Indrid dared imagine. They’re about the same age, dark hair with fading streaks of blue falls about a round face, a stocky frame looks singularly nice to lay against.

“C’mon up. Tried callin’ you a little while ago to see if you wanted me to order food or somethin, but since you didn’t answer think we’re gonna have to settle for leftover pizza for now.”

“That’s, ah, that’s fine. And that was a landline I called from, hence the lack of response.”

“Jesus” Duck giggles, “you still got one of those?”

“The previous renter left a lot of things behind, and whoever is paying that telephone bill hasn’t stopped so far. Oh, thanks.” He steps through the door Duck holds open, finds a room much like his own; a messy studio full of the elements a single man needs to get by. A tiny T.V is linked up to an XBOX in the corner, and two hanging planters flourish by the windows. 

“Still want that hug?” Duck opens his arms.

Indrid nods, stepping into them, his own arms locked by his sides in case Duck doesn’t want to be touched. The shorter man is warm, his arms solid and strong, one holding Indrid’s shoulder blades so the other can run up and down his back. 

“You can hug back, I don’t mind.”

Indrid hugs his waist, “This isn’t weird to you?”

“Kinda? I dunno, I give damn good hugs and I don’t like seein’ people scared or hurtin, and you seem to need someone to be a little gentle with you. So, what the fuck, may as well hug you; knew I wasn’t gonna feel right if I hung up without offerin’. Besides, that dream sounded fuckin’ awful.”

“It is, its’ that way every time. So is the other one, and the one after that.” Indrid curls inward, as if he could somehow squeeze his nearly six foot frame to fit snugly under Duck’s chin, “I, they aren’t just dreams, either. I have what you call very bad luck with death. My mother died in a car accident when I was seven, with me in the backseat. My father died in a freak bridge collapse, again with me only barely surviving. Then my best friend drowned when we were swimming.” He shudders, images flooding back, “the dreams make me see it over and over in strange, altered versions, versions where I die, and they say you’re supposed to wake up before you die in a dream but tonight I didn’t, I felt my dream self die and I, I, I woke up so frightened.” he gasps, cringes to find tears slipping from under his glasses. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay man, here” Duck sits them down on the bed, Indrid now clinging to him, “don’t worry, ain’t lettin go, you can keep talkin if you need.”

“I get so scared sometimes, like I’m an omen of doom and anyone who comes near me will die. And I know that’s ridiculous because the majority of people who’ve been close to me are still alive, but nights like this I wake up and watch the door and the windows because it feels like death is following me, waiting to grab me, and I’ll die frightened and alone and not be found for days until someone, one of the few who still cares for me, wonders why they haven’t heard from me and, andandand-” it’s sobs now, awkward and painful each time they push out of his chest. 

“Shhhhh” Duck pats his hair and Indrid wiggles closer, hoping his whine communicates the desperate hope he’ll do that again, touch him like he matters. What it does is knock them over, bed squishy under them.

“Hush, hush now, ain’t nothin like that gonna happen. No more talk of shadows, partly because I only sobered up like ten minutes ago and talkin about seein the grim reaper in the corner don’t play nice with that.”

‘“I, I’m s-sorry-”

“Hey, hey I was teasin’, tryin’ to see if I could make you laugh at me a little” Duck strokes his cheek with his thumb, voice warm as a summer morning and soothing as moonlight, “besides, even if somethin’ scary did show, you got the ‘hero of Kepler’ to protect you.”

“The, the what of what now?”

“Kepler’s the tiny town I grew up in. Both my folks were real respected and shit, dad was former marines, everyone assumed I was gonna grow up and fight the good fight. Instead I disappointed ‘em all by wantin’ to look after trees all day.” He mutters, looks sad, and Indrid can’t bear the sight and so he mimics him, places a hand on his cheek and pets it gently.

“Trees do far more good, and need far more help nowadays.”

“Thanks, ‘Drid. Oop, sorry, just kinda slipped out.”

“Nono, I like it, I’ve never had a nickname before. Or, ah, never had a good one, that is.”

“Well, you do now, because I like you and I say so.” Duck pets his side, making his sweater ride up and exposing a tattoo.

“Oh shit, that’s so fuckin’ cool.”

“Thank you, I did the design myself. That’s, ahd, that’s what I’m doing in town. I’m apprenticing to be a tattoo artist.”

“So. fuckin. Cool.” Duck draws a finger along the moth design, Indrid squirming a little when he does. It feels nice; unfamiliar, but nice. 

“You gotta tell me all about it.”

“Alright” Indrid sniffs and Duck, after flopping to the side of the bed and reaching beneath it, produces a tissue, “as long as you promise to tell me about those” he points to the row of succulents on the far wall.”

“Think I can handle that. Fuck, got cold in here.” He drags a blanket up over them and Indrid purrs at the warmth, snuggling up in his arms as Duck nuzzles his neck, “now, where were we…”

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

Indrid wakes up with his glasses smushed to his face, a thick blanket wrapped around him, and the smell of coffee tickling his nose. He yawns, sits up and gets his bearings well enough to not be startled when Duck speaks.

“Mornin, sleepyhead.”

“Good morning.”

“Didn’t seem like you had more nightmares last night.” Duck pours two mugs of coffee.

“I didn’t. Your, ah, your presence helped immensely.”

“Maybe my true callin’ is a teddy bear, good for snugglin and keepin monsters away.”

“Perhaps.” He pads over to the little kitchen to join him. Takes the sugar when offered and dumps a large amount into his cup. 

“Hey, uh, this may be way off base, but, uh, I, uh, I feel like we really kinda clicked. Even accountin for the weird circumstances and the heightened emotions and shit. I coulda talked with you for days, and honestly the reason I kept holding you after that firs hug was because I felt so fuckin comfortable with you. Like you fit.”

“I felt the same.” Indrid stirs his coffee, unsure of how to ask for what he wants. 

“If, uh, if you ain’t busy tonight, do you wanna go out? With me?”

“On a date?” 

Duck suppresses a smile as he nods. 

“I’d like that so much.”

“Hell yeah.’ Duck hugs him and this time he hugs back instantly, giggling when the shorter man kisses his cheek and whispers, “and if you feel like it, happy to be your teddy bear tomorrow night, too.”

[therainroguefanfiction]

About Me Tag

Tagged by the angelic @prettywordsyouleft, thank you so much ^~^)/ I’ll list the questions at the top and then add my answers under the cut~ By the way, I waited to post this because I was looking for a picture AND THEN I FORGOT I’M SORRY

1. It’s your birthday! What did you ask for and did you receive it?  2. What was the last song or album you listened to? 3. What is your go to snack when you’re hungry or bored? 4. What is your morning routine? 5. What mythical/cryptid creature would you be? 6. How do you interact with someone that you don’t like? 7. How do you define a toxic person? 8. Have you ever been to a concert or fanmeet type of event? If not, would you want to? 9. Do you believe in astrology? Why or why not? 10. If you had only one sense (hearing, touch, sight, etc.), which would you want? 11. Who is your favorite celebrity or idol? 12. If you could talk to your favorite celebrity(s) for a limited time, what would you tell them? 13. I’m taking you out on a date and it’s your choice. Where are we going and what are we going to do? 14. Do you like sweet or savory foods? 15. Do you have any band merchandise or merchandise from any of your favorite artists? If so, what?

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

1. It’s your birthday! What did you ask for and did you receive it? 

My birthday was in February, so it was forever ago lol To be honest, I don’t really celebrate my birthday and we usually don’t have the money to really do anything, so it’s just a normal day. Knowing me, I asked for Taco Bell 😂

2. What was the last song or album you listened to? 

“MANTRA” by Bring Me the Horizon because I love this song so much like please play this at my funeral?? 😩

https://youtu.be/VAXg78MKJcM

3. What is your go to snack when you’re hungry or bored? 

Is Taco a snack? 🌮 Because it’s my go-to everything lol For real though, I usually just snack on whatever I can find, but I’m trying to be more conscious of what I snack on because I’m trying to lose weight and be healthy.

4. What is your morning routine? 

Wake up > listen to music until my bladder threatens to burst > keep listening until MANTRA starts playing > sing the song in my head to impress my current anime boy obsession > go to the bathroom > put water in the freezer > fall in front of the computer.

Riveting, I know.

5. What mythical/cryptid creature would you be? 

By choice? A dragon because they are dope 🐉 But if the universe chose for me, my mind keeps saying it would choose a Wendigo/Skinwalker lol

6. How do you interact with someone that you don’t like? 

I try not to. Why would I when I don’t like ‘em? Of course, since I can’t work, I’ve never really been forced into that situation, but I’m super non-confrontational, so when someone I don’t like tries talking to me, I usually just grit my teeth and act nice, or make up some excuse as to why I can’t talk 🤷

7. How do you define a toxic person? 

Someone that doesn’t value my opinions at all. They believe their opinions are fact and if you disagree with them, they lose respect for you because you’re wrong. Someone that constantly puts you down, even in a joking manner, even though you ask them to stop. Someone that won’t respect your wishes and continues to do something that you’ve clearly stated that you don’t like but they do it anyway because they get off on seeing you get upset. Someone that forces their beliefs and values upon you as if nothing else in the world matters except for their own thoughts.

Not that I have experience or anything.

8. Have you ever been to a concert or fanmeet type of event? If not, would you want to? 

Once, before my anxiety got as bad as it is today. I was like... 17? And I had stayed up for like a week straight trying to win tickets to a Good Charlotte concert in St. Augustine, which I did end up winning, thank you very much. We were able to meet them, but it was super rushed - in, snap a picture, out. Very disappointing considering they were the main ones I came to see. But the other bands were actually out in the rain greeting fans and talking to them. Even though I had no clue who they were, they were super nice. Actually, I think I might have some pics buried on my facebook!

...after extensively searching through the mess that is my facebook, I can’t find the pictures T^T and my external hard drive won’t connect soooo

phooie

9. Do you believe in astrology? Why or why not? 

I believe the signs do have some sway over our core personalities, and I’d like to get more into it, but I’m not obsessed and I certainly don’t believe it controls every aspect of our life.

I remember once for christmas when I was younger, I got an astrology book and I didn’t understand like 90% of it but it was dope 😎

10. If you had only one sense (hearing, touch, sight, etc.), which would you want? 

How dare you come at me like this I am #TRIGGERED

I can’t hear MANTRA or anime or the sound of rain or blackpink or youtube or rustage’s awesome raps?

I can’t feel my cats fur beneath my fingers?

I can’t see anime or video games or the words I write on the screen or rustage’s awesome videos or iamcrusty’s awesome videos?

I can’t taste tacos?

I can’t smell black cherry merlot hand sanitizer and candles?

I can’t... wait, ain’t there another sense?

Anyway, I can’t 🙀 Stop tRiGgErInG me

11. Who is your favorite celebrity or idol?

Actor: Johnny Depp Kpop: Winwin Anime VA: Junichi Suwabe YouTube: Pewdiepie

12. If you could talk to your favorite celebrity(s) for a limited time, what would you tell them? 

How much I love their art and how happy their work makes me and how they’ve helped so many people and I would probably die because, you know

aNxIeTy DiSoRdEr 🤮

13. I’m taking you out on a date and it’s your choice. Where are we going and what are we going to do?

A nature walk or cat cafe. Maybe some boba tea? I’d rather stay home and watch anime with you, though 🤓

14. Do you like sweet or savory foods? 

Surprisingly, I’m not that fond of sweets. I mean, I enjoy the occasional ice cream or chocolate bar, but I’m not big on candy like I used to be. And the only cake I eat is lemon.

Does taco count as savory? 👀

15. Do you have any band merchandise or merchandise from any of your favorite artists? If so, what? 

Band merch? I think the only band merch I have is from B.A.P - I got a bag and a ring! I got loads of other merch, but they aren’t from musical artists. For example, I got youtooz of Jim Pickens and Pewdiepie, a keychain of Erza Scarlet, etc.

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Now you know more about me than you ever needed to.

Tagging @kittifer​ @edentaba​ @justemileelove​ @fionathebanana​ @squishytenya​ @the-broken-halo-writer​ @janellion​ @sugacookiies​ & whoever sees this and wants to do it! If you don’t want me to tag you, please let me know ^~^)/