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buglife · 4 years ago

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Shh I got inspired by those doodles I did of Monomon and sick bby Quirrel so I wrote a ficlet.

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It had been a few months since Monomon found a tiny pip rolling around the trash in the City of Tears. She thought at first that it was some sort of ball that some child had lost. Then it sneezed, which scared the hell out of her. She had looked closer and she was surprised to see a nearly transparent pip crawling around the garbage. The poor thing was dented up and was attempting to eat a discarded cloak. When he saw her, he hissed and curled up into a ball, thinking that if he couldn’t see her, than she couldn’t see him. She had picked him up, this little shivering ball of tenacity, and took him with her.

One thing lead to another and she had found herself as an adoptive mother to a baby isopod. The doctor she took him too told her that he shouldn’t even be out of the pouch, let alone being all by himself. Either he was abandoned or something unfortunate happened to his mother, and having the guard investigate gave her no answers. She decided that it was probably going to be a mystery forever, and decided to focus her energy on raising her newly acquired son.

She had named him Quirrel, after an old philosopher who often wrote about the beauty of the world. She somehow knew he’d be able to see the world for the beautiful thing as it is and not be focused on the doom and gloom of it all. She was a scientist, so of course she could find beauty in even the smallest micro-organism and all the way to the desolate wastes. Something told her he’d see it too.

Her high hopes proved to be true, as he turned out to be a rather clever little pip. He was still far too young for speech, or even to be roaming about by himself, so she decided to conduct a little experiment. Sign language wasn’t uncommon in Hallownest, but most non-hindered bugs tended to learn it after they have mastered speech and not before. What if she taught Quirrel, a little pip, some sign language now?

Her experiment bore fruit, and he learned some signs quickly. It was only a few words now that were simple to sign. He was still a baby and lacked the fine motor control for the more complex signs, but he could at least tell her when he was hungry or if he wanted something. She imagined that this experiment could do a lot of good in the end.

What concerned her however, was the lack of actual noise he made.

Quirrel was an incredibly quiet baby at he beginning. He simply refused to make much noise at all, and when he did, he flinched as though expecting to be punished for it. It had taken weeks of positive reinforcement before he started making the noises a little pip was expected to be making. It was very endearing to see him babbling and having her students babble back at him. His tiny eyes would light up and he’d wiggle in excitement before continuing the ‘conversation’. Even with all the encouragements from both her and her students, he still preferred to be quiet, napping through most of the day whilst in her pip pocket. That was normal for an isopod this young, but it was still concerning that he felt that he had to stay quiet.

That changed early one morning when he started to audibly fuss. Usually he’d just try to escape when bored, writhing about and trying to climb out of the pocket. But today, at the most ungodly early hour, he was making noises, squeaking and hissing in what seemed to be discomfort. Monomon had at first though he was hungry, but he outright refused his usual leaf paste. She tried tiktik bits, sliced fruit, and even a cookie, but he refused it all and grew increasingly more frustrated with each rejected food item.

She had tried asking him to tell her what was wrong through sign language, but he was either unwilling or unable to bother with it.

Finally he had enough, and began to wail, loudly. She had never heard him make a noise that loud before and it startled her enough to spill the juice she was trying to tempt him with all over herself. He only stopped loud enough to take a breath before belting out another heaving cry, little eyes overflowing with tears as he made his discomfort known.

“Shhhh….shhhh...it’s okay, my little one.” She attempted to try and comfort him, but he just wailed louder.

Concerned, she picked him up and tucked him under her chin, trying to soothe the sobbing pillbug, when she noticed what could be causing all this pain. His forehead was burning hot, and he was faintly shivering as he bawled into her veil. It wasn’t hard to figure out that her pip was ill and she plucked him out from her embrace to take a better look at him.

There were bags under his eyes and his face was tinged blue with heat. He had his mandibles open wide enough when crying that she can see some swelling in the back of his throat. She gently palpitated his belly and could feel the organs within twist and with every movement he cried harder. So, he was nauseous, which made sense on why he would refuse a cookie. Fever, chills, sore throat, most likely he picked something up from one of the students. She mentally kicked herself, she should have made her students wash up before picking him up as they liked to do. She should have not allowed them to give him little smooches and hugs. She should have not brought him with her at all when among the masses of students and archivists that swarmed about her. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him all alone, not after what he’d been through.

The fact of the matter is that no amount of hindsight was going to change the fact that Quirrel caught something and was currently not having a very good time about it. His wails were starting to sound raspy and wet, no doubt that his sinuses were starting to be affected too. The sheer amount of screaming wasn’t helping matters and her thoughts raced on what she should do.

“Modern Manca Medicine, Chapter Seven, pages nine through ten,” She recited out loud as she recalled one of the many books she absorbed after taking Quirrel in, “Common treatment options for sickly manca and juvenile pillbugs include swaddling and standard fever reduction tactics for most invertebrates. Hrm... Grubs and You: A New Mother’s Guide, Chapter Nine, page twelve. When a child refuses to eat, honey is a suitable way to provide needed nutrition and slip in medication without upsetting the stomach. Hrm... that would work, wouldn’t it?”

Quirrel continued his crying, rapidly losing his voice, and she brushed a kiss on the top of his head to comfort him. His antenna twitched and his sobbing died down just a teensy bit, but it was enough for her to notice. He must have smelled her and realized she was going to help him, his eyes were too full of tears to be much use to him at the moment. She grabbed a spare blanket and wrapped him up tightly to deal with the shivers. He instantly stopped wriggling so hard and she managed to slip him back into the pip pocket without much incident.

Next, a cool cloth was needed. She needed to bring down his fever so he could rest. That wasn’t too hard to find. She ended up tying the wet cloth on his head like you would a kerchief, pinning down his antenna so they can cool down as well. She was quite happy to find that after she did that, he had stopped his wailing. He was still making noises of discomfort, squeaking and hiccupping, but he wasn’t outright screaming anymore. Her auditory organs was most happy with that turn of events for sure.

“Herbal Remedies for the Modern Bug, Chapter two, pages one through twenty.” She floated quickly to her herb cabinet, selecting dried bundles here and there. Lemon balm for fever, mint and ginger for his stomach, marshmallow root for his throat, maybe licorice root too? Lavender and Chamomile to help him sleep so he can focus on getting better, yes, that should do it. She mentally ran through the list, using a free set of tentacles to rock Quirrel gently. For now he seemed content to stay in his pocket, squeaking here and there as he braved through his illness. Poor little pip...she resolved to give him extra cookies once he felt well enough to eat them.

She put a kettle to boil and threw her selected herbs inside to seep and condense. She would have used her alchemical equipment to do this faster, but she didn’t feel like taking him downstairs where there would be students and workers showing up. When Quirrel started fussing again, she replaced his now warm cloth with a freshly cooled one, and he quieted down again.

Finally, the kettle had boiled enough and she strained the liquid into a bowl. Next, she took out a jar of honey and began the delicate procedure of making medicine that won’t be instantly spat out by a fussy grub. She calculated that a 2:1 ratio should work the best as he would be less likely to spit up something that tasted relatively good. Eventually, she mixed up a small cup full of her makeshift medicine and retrieved a clean eyedropper. Calculating body weight, she drew up half a measure, and with that finished she went to attempt to give it to Quirrel.

He, of course, put up a fuss, and began screaming again. She understood why, he wasn’t feeling well and his belly was hurting. The last thing he would want right now was something to go down into said hurting belly and she was not surprised when he tried to bite her a few times. Unfortunately for him, Isopods are not known for being able to do much more than nibble. Using that to her advantage, she let him latch on to the end of one of her tentacles, letting him get nice and occupied, and then shoved the end of the eyedropper into the corner of his mouth. The medicine was squirted down his throat before he could do anything to stop it and for that he bit her harder. He even hissed a little and it would be adorable if he wasn’t feeling so poorly.

He let go to scream again, but then stopped and stuck out his tongue. He was obviously tasting the honey now, and he loved honey. Monomon sighed in relief, at least next time she gave him a dose she wouldn’t get bit for her troubles. He opened his mouth a couple times and blinked, looking up at her face. He lifted up his hands and wiggled them.

“Abah?” He sniffled, trying to clear his throat and sinus.

“Hrm, what do you want, my little scholar?” She was pleased to not longer see him screaming. “Use your hand words.”

He made two fists and bumped them together. <”more,”> he signed.

“Of course, you can have more honey. I think you deserve it, after putting up with all that.”

He seemed happy with the idea, and she was able to give him another teaspoon of honey before he signed ‘done’ at her. His little belly could only take so much now and she took the time to wipe his face clean. He fussed at the cleaning, but yawned once she finished. Clearly the medicine was starting to work, his breathing was better and feeling his gut showed that it was settling down. She gave him a nuzzle and a kiss and tucked him back into his pip pocket. He was asleep nearly instantly and she gently strapped the pocket to herself once more.

Once he was secure she floated downstairs and was once again, swept up into the chaos of the Archives. Someone had accidentally released the charged lumaflies and they were setting books on fire.

Thankfully, Quirrel slept through the whole thing.

#hollow knight #fanfiction #my writing #monomon the teacher #quirrel #sickfic #baby quirrel #tiny scholar au #terra lumina #monomom #my niece learned some sign language when she was a toddler and it really helped with communication #she could sign if she wasn't feeling good or if she was tired #so here's how quirrel started off fluent in sign lanquage #hurt/comfort #i think you can call this hurt comfort?

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jtsfavslut · 4 years ago

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Falling [G.D]

Description: Just when Y/N thought she was over Grayson, he pops back into her life, making her wonder if you could fall for the same person twice. Inspired by ‘Falling’ - Harry Styles.

Warnings: None, Just sad stuff lmao!!!

Word Count: 4K+

Also a special thanks to cole [ @blazedgraysons] for keeping up with my annoying ass questions while I wrote this, and for helping me and giving me advice I love you <333

Her small feet carried her body down the familiar street, cars zooming past her as her body softly bumped into the others around her. The loud sounds from the environment being blocked away by the soft, yet loud music that was coming out of an old pair of Airpods she had gotten for Christmas back in High School.

This was Y/N's daily routine. Get up early in the morning, do her business in the bathroom, get dressed, and walk over to her favorite cafe. The Beachwood cafe had become Y/N's second home ever since she moved to L.A, spending most of her time there, before and after class.

A smile lit up her face as the familiar blue door came into her view, a content sigh falling past her lips as she got closer to the door.

The strong smell of coffee hit her nostrils as she walked inside, music being paused as she walked fully inside, giving her attention to the cashier that greeted her every morning, "Hi Y/N, your stuff is on your table," she smiled up at Y/N before pointing towards her usual table.

It was the one by the window in the corner of the shop, the bright yellow and blue floor illuminated her small journey to the table, where her coffee and breakfast sandwich happily waited for her to approach. She sat down, hand reaching into her Yellow Kanken backpack, another Christmas gift from high school that she dearly took care of, she pulled out a brown journal and a pen.

A journal filled with memories and random thoughts that popped in her head. Y/N thought writing things down was good for the mind and body. She believed that writing things down would help you keep your thoughts safely, and lock memories into place without overworking your mind. A pen that has been through many journeys on the same yet different page.

All pages were the same until the pen went over it, recording things until the end of time. They were all the same until she wrote down her thoughts for the day.

Her small hand gripped onto the pen as she wrote down her thoughts from the previous night, coffee cup in the other hand as she slowly sipped the liquid.

Last night I thought of him again, just until I drifted off. I don't know why. It hasn't happened in months. Nothing bad, just a memoir of all of our memories together. Like the time we broke into the school's pool one night. Where he pushed me in with all my clothes on, then he jumped in and we made out by the stairs. Funny how we never got caught since cameras were around us. Or when we had our senior trips to the mountains in Colorado, and how he kept sneaking into the girls' room just to be with me. We were lucky we didn't get caught again. I tried to not keep thinking about him. I know it's time to finally drop it and move on, but how? How do I erase all those memories from my brain? How am I supposed to just drop it and move along? Just how? I don't need or want to know why just how.

She softly slammed the notebook closed, right before she could feel a slight burning in her eyes and a rock starting to form in her throat. The subject of her and a past lover that she was still holding onto, still being a deep wound to her.

She thought about and remembered Grayson every day. After all, he was her everything during her entire High School life, and he still was…...sort of. Grayson and Y/N started dating in the 9th grade, right about in the middle of the year. He asked her out behind the school's bleachers during lunchtime, a mixture of flowers from his mom's garden that she shyly accepted from him after she said yes. That was followed by their date to the movie theater, where he held her close to him every time she faked being a little scared, not that he could tell, and three dates after he officially asked her out where she said yes again, and that was followed by an accidental kiss, he was leaning towards her cheek when she accidentally moved her head to the side, causing his lips to land on hers. Neither of them complained, just smiled at each other and carried on.

They went on for 6 years, all of high school and two college years, where he decided to break it off because of distance. He went off on how being across the country from one another was hard, and the fact that the time difference from New York to California was 3 and 4. She didn't complain. Didn't give a reason as to why not, even if she had trillions of them. She didn't try to change his mind. She simply said okay, and wished him the best. She still loved him though.

The words that her grandpa had spoken replayed in her brain every time she questioned why she still thought about him; "You never stop loving anyone sugar, you just kinda love someone stronger. If you stop loving them, then you never loved them to begin with" She thought about that, and that made her feel better. Maybe there was someone out there who she would love more than she loved Grayson.

With a quiet sigh, she put her journal away, switching it with a book she picked up at the library a few days prior, yet read a million times.

To Kill A Mockingbird is a book she read many times in school, mostly everyone has. It's the one book from school she actually enjoyed, so she picked it up from the book shop down the street from her apartment before work one day, and didn't get to read it until now.

She opened the book with a small smile, the sensation of the book against her finger bringing nothing but happiness to her, and took her mind off whatever was bothering her. She lost herself in the book, almost done with half of the book before her alarm rang, signaling it was time for work. She left a 20 on the table after putting all her stuff away in her backpack and walking out of the shop and towards her job which was a paid internship at a local hospital downtown, all she did was watch and help out with minor cases like cuts, sprains, X Ray's and the occasional stuff like questioning. She entered the hospital, sanitizing herself and changing into her uniform, walking over to her area, that being the Pediatrics Emergency room where her boss, mentor, whatever you might want to call him, Dr. Reyez, and the rest of the team were waiting for her.

"Morning everyone," she chirped at the tired yet awake health care workers, who all had smiles on their faces. "Morning Y/N, you're going to be practicing by yourself today, can you handle it?" Dr. Reyez asked her, which she just nodded her head with a smile. There wasn't a single ounce of doubt in her brain.

"I'm pretty sure yes! And I can just reach out to you guys if anything, right?"

"Yeah, just page us if anything. Your first patient should be here soon, just go wait by the desk," Reyez instructed her and that's exactly what she did. She sat on the desk for over 20 minutes until someone came in with a toddler covered in rashes.

"Hi baby, I just need to ask you and mommy a few questions, yeah?" She sweetly and patiently asked the 5 year old as his mom was filling out some papers, to which he just nodded his head.

"Okay, Xavion, did you eat something new today? Maybe something you've never eaten?" She asked and both the mom and son nodded their heads.

"Do you think he was allergic to something?" The mom asked, causing Y/N to shrug.

"Well, it depends. We need to get an allergy test for him. It doesn't hurt or anything, we just scratch and pour a drop of the allergen over it and see how they react. Mom, do you happen to remember what he ate today for the first time?" She replied by recording some notes down on her clipboard before telling a nurse to get an Allergy Antibody Test ready.

"He ate everything that he usually does except for some broccoli I gave him," the mom replied and Y/N nodded her head before writing it down on her clipboard and walking them to the testing room.

Once the results came back around half an hour later, Xavion was, in fact, allergic to broccoli, and other things that Y/N had to explain to the mother. She got about 15 minutes of break time before Reyez called her another minor emergency.

"It's an 11 year old, possible breakage or sprain to the leg, you can handle this one right?" He asked and she nodded her head, "Good, they're in room 217, good luck," he added before sending her off to the room.

She quickly made her way over to it, grabbing her clipboard on the way, "Hi, I'm Dr.Y/LN, I'm going to be taking care of you guys today! May I have the child's name and date of birth please?" She nicely asked as she walked inside the room, quickly walking over to the desk area that was in the corner and placing her stuff down.

"Uhhh, Caleb Dolan, August 17, 2008," a deep voice that she could recognize from anywhere spoke as she turned around. Her heart dropped at the sight of Grayson in front of her. She tried to reassemble herself, after all, she couldn't make any mistakes right now, Reyez was trusting her and she couldn't afford to mess the opportunity up.

"Caleb, August 17, 2008," she mumbled as she wrote it down on her piece of paper, "Caleb, do you mind telling me what happened, babe?" She asked with a smile on her face. Her smile turned into a small frown as she looked up at the boy who happened to be in pain.

"Me and uncle Gray were practicing for the soccer game that's next and I fell on the mud and hit my leg really hard," he explained as she walked towards him nodding her head.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, One being okay while 10 being the worst, how would you rate the pain?" She asked, walking over to the walk to grab a pair of gloves, putting them on, and walking back towards him.

"Uhh a seven," he replied and she nodded her head.

"Okay Caleb, just know this might hurt a little okay? It's just protocol to check if it's dislocated, broken, or sprained okay?" She asked and he nodded his head, a few tears falling down his face from fear. Grayson quickly leaned down to wipe off his face whispering a quiet 'you'll be okay' as Caleb grabbed his hand.

"Can you try and move your ankle for me? Just try and move it," she explained and he muttered at quiet yes before moving his foot in a slow circle, she nodded her head before placing both hands over his ankle checking for any bumps, which there were none to find, "Luckily for you Caleb, it's just sprained! There are no bumps meaning it's not dislocated, and you can move it meaning it's not fractured! Just to make sure, we're going to need an X Ray' just to make sure there are no hidden surprises yeah? Dr. Lindsey will do those with you, and I'll be right here when you come back," she smiled up at the boy before Dr. Lindey moved him to a wheelchair and took him to the X Ray room, leaving Y/N and Grayson alone in painful silence.

"So this is what you do? This is where you work?" Grayson was the first to speak after a couple of quiet seconds,

She cleared her throat and nodded her head, placing her hands inside her white jacket, "Yeah. It's a paid internship so it's basically a job, what about you? What are you doing here?" She asked to make direct eye contact with him.

"Moved here after me and E graduated, looking for some roles and an agent," he spoke, his voice not as deep yet shakier than when he first spoke.

"Any luck with that?"

"Yeah. We've landed a few small roles here and there," he answered and she just nodded her head.

"That's good! I'm glad everything's working out for you," She gave him a genuine smile before continuing to fill out Caleb's paperwork.

"Listen, I know it's been 2 years but-," Grayson began to speak before Y/N cut him off. "-Grayson just don't. I'm at work right now, and it's enough seeing you after 2 years, but I don't really need this right now. I'm sorry," She apologized before leaving the room to get some papers before walking back in, thankfully Caleb was already in the room when she walked in.

"I'm going to wrap your ankle up with this and then you're good to go, buddy. Make sure you don't apply pressure on it for two weeks. And carefully when you're playing any sport, I don't want you back here," she said while wrapping his ankle up carefully. She gave Grayson the discharge papers, their hands touching each other for a split second before she pulled away waving them off before walking to where her team was.

"That guy was looking at you intensely," Reyez pointed out, earning a glare from her.

"Don't even start," she rolled her eyes before taking a sip from her water bottle that was on her desk.

"Wait is that the?" Jacob, one of the nurses, asked and she nodded her head.

"Yeah, that's him," she sighed, shaking her head.

"Holly shit Y/N, I knew you said he was hot, but girl? That man is hotter than-,"

"Mackenzie, don't you dare," Y/N joked towards her other co-worker, "God why do you do this to me? I was almost over him and then you put him on my path again? The universe hates me,"

"I'd go for it again if I were you," Mackenzie encouraged earning a glare from her.

"Alright, leave her alone before she starts to crumble, Mackenzie go fill out reports, Y/N go take a breather," Reyez ordered them around and they all nodded their heads, going on their way to do what they were told.

. . .

Soft snores began to quietly run past her lips as she drifted off to sleep, all before a feeling of suddenly falling down an empty whole woke her up. She shook her head letting out a quiet 'fuck' before turning to look towards the clocks on her nightstand, 3:30 AM being brightly displayed on it. Y/N let out a loud sigh, knowing she wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon.

Her mind suddenly clouded with knotted thoughts and notions, too many of them just to focus on a single one. She pushed her body up, just enough for her to reach over and grab the small yellow backpack that she lazily threw on the floor, pulling her journal and pen out before throwing it back on the floor.

She clicked the pen and opened the journal, blank pages waiting to be filled up, her hand delicately moved along the paper as she scribbled letters and words on the empty pages, thoughts clearing out of her head, one by one.

I saw him today. He looked different. He's grown. After it all, it has been two years. His voice is deeper too. He wanted to talk, but I said no. Maybe if I did, I would fall for him again, or something. I'm doing just fine, so why did he have to move here. Anyway, Reyez finally allowed me to take care of patients by myself today. It was fun, I liked it, I guess. Luckily I'm free tomorrow because I can't sleep at all now. Maybe it's the repeating thoughts of him running through my mind, or just simply the lack of melatonin in my body right now. I'll probably go to the park tomorrow, stop at the cafe first then make my way there, but anyway, I'm going to try and sleep now.

It was a quick entry, nothing special, just her major thoughts being written down, just enough for her to feel better. She got up from the bed walking over to the kitchen grabbing a water bottle before leaning against the counter and sipping it. She crossed her bare legs over each other, looking out of the big window in her living room. Her favorite part about the apartment? It was the window that looked down on bright LA city. Y/N could sit there for hours and not notice the time pass by, she knows this because it happened before. She left the kitchen and walked towards the window, propping her body down on the small couch she had in front of the window. She laid her head on her hand, watching the few cars that sped down the street, the small yet bright red lights disappearing into the distance as her eyes followed them until they could.

Her eyes softly closed as she laid down on the couch, drifting off into another universe. The next morning she woke up at around 8 AM, doing her daily routine, except she stopped at the Cafe, picked her things up, and made her way to the park. It was an old park, there was an old playground that seemed like it hadn't been used in years. She sat down on an old bench drinking her coffee as she watched the scenery.

She didn't take her notebook out, her mind not having any thoughts, or at least no thoughts relevant enough for her to write down. She just took her time to take her surroundings in. She admired how the wind moved the trees, yet they were so strong they didn't crack. The way the birds lifted off whatever surface they were, and drifted off into the sky. She admired the rare butterflies that randomly appeared just to disappear once again. She simply admired the earth, something that she didn't do quite often; Always being too deep in her thoughts to actually study the things around her.

"They're beautiful aren't they?" Grayson's voice spoke out of nowhere, making Y/N do a slight jump in her seat as her heart raced.

She brought her hand up to her chest, a sigh falling past her lips as she glared at Grayson who was chuckling, "You fucking scared me,"

"Sorry," he sighed, sitting down next to her.

They both let out sighs. Both knowing that there was no escaping the conversation that was about to happen, a conversation that was long due.

"You could, hmm, you could go first," she spoke after a few moments of silence, throat dried making her clear it in the middle of some of her words.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. You were working, and Ummm, it wasn't the right place or time to talk about things. I'm also sorry because I never gave you an explanation as to why we should've broken up. After all, you didn't ask anyway," He softly spoke. He thought every word through, studied each meaning before letting them run past his lips.

"I didn't ask because it's what you wanted. Your decision was clearly made. I mean, I don't think breaking up with someone is a spontaneous thought is it? Your decision was made, and if you felt like I was holding you back, then I had to let you go, if I loved you, then I think I did the right thing." Her words were careful too. And quiet, so quiet feeling that if she spoke too loud the things around her would break.

"I didn't want to break up. I felt like it was the right thing to do, you know? We were always so busy, and we made time for each other, but it was exhausting. And when you were out with friends, I felt like I was annoying you or something," he sighed and she shook her head, the thought of her ever getting annoyed at Grayson's presence being absurd.

"Oh God absolutely not," she chuckled, "I thought I was annoying you. Like I wondered if you talked about me, or not. I wanted to know if I annoyed you because I felt like I did,"

It was true. In her journal, multiple pages were filled out with her question herself on whether Grayson talked about her or not. Even after the breakup, she wondered if he'll ever need her. Most pages were about him, all of her thoughts revolved around him, always.

"I did. All the time, to the point where I said your name subconsciously," he smiled, remembering the conversations he had with his friends about her, and how great she was.

"I did too, well not say but write," she sighed, leaning her back on the bench.

"You wrote about me?"

"Grayson you know I did, that's a dumb question," She shook her head, taking a sip of the coffee that was somehow still warm.

"Do you still write about me?" He asked and she stayed quiet, not knowing whether she should answer truthfully or not.

"Honestly speaking, I do. I write about everything that comes to mind, so sometimes? Yeah," she sighed, knowing that it would be easier if they just told the truth.

Maybe this was the closure that they both needed, yet never got. Maybe this was going to help her fully move on from him, and have thoughts that don't include her.

Or maybe not. Maybe this would help them reconnect. Y/N left it all up to the universe. She was a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, and that you can't change your future since it's already written about. When she got home after a couple of hours she took a shower, lit on her favorite candles, and did the expected. She took out her notebook and wrote.

We spoke today. He told me the reason why we broke up. It wasn't an intentional meeting though, I was just admiring nature. I was looking at the butterflies I think. He randomly spoke. And I know it was long due and needed so I just told him to say it. It's better to just get it over with than to just keep pushing it back, I think. He told me why he wanted to break up, which right now, sounds like a valid reason. I just wonder why he didn't just say it back then. It would've saved me a lot of nights, don't you think? He now knows I write about him, and where I go to write about him. Maybe I shouldn't go there anymore. It sounds out of this world I know. But maybe, just maybe, I should just close that chapter in my life.

There are just too many memories of him at Beachwood. That's where he surprised me the first time he came to visit. And it's where I write about him the most. I could find another cafe near here, there's plenty.

I just wonder if we're ever going to see each other again. If I'll ever fall for him again, if that is even possible. Because I don't think you could fall for the same person twice, right?

That was the last page in her journal. All the pages filled with her delicate letters, her writing being eternal. Filled with on-going words until the end, where an unanswered question laid. The weight that was once on her shoulders began to fade, and for once in her life, the thought of her future no longer made her afraid.

This is the first time I’m proud of a something I wrote, so if this flops, I will deactivate! Just kidding, sort of. Anyways, yeah, I feel like my writing has improved, and as always, if you have any tips, and/or constructive critism, please, please, please drop them in my inbox, and don’t worry, I won’t say your hurting my feelings lmfao!!

Tag List: @guiltydols @evergreendolan @ydolanssss @rhyrhy462 @resilientdolan @simplyxdolxstyles @simplyxdolxstyles {If you wanna be added to my Tag List, just let me know :) lol}

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zmediaoutlet · 3 years ago

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fic: the apprentice year

Here’s something I wrote for a zine, a while back. Maybe someone’s in the mood for quiet s8 angst.

(read on AO3)

It's raining when Sam crashes the car. Middle of the night, Texas somewhere. Not enough sleep, not that sleep could possibly help, and bad visibility, and this numbness that started in his gut but has taken over every part of him. Not the best conditions. Narrow two-lane highway, headlights blurring through the dark wet, and then there's a flash—white-and-brown and small, a dog?—and he swerves hard, and then it's—squeal of brakes, the tires sliding, a smash.

He breathes slow, both hands curled around the steering wheel. Car's still on, rumbling idle. His head hurts. Hard to see through the rain but it looks like he killed a sapling. He unclenches one hand from the wheel and touches his forehead—wet—and the windshield's cracked again, and he turns around in the seat to see the dog bolting off down the road. He opens the door and steps out into the mud and, yes. A broken tree, and a mile marker crumpled, and the paint all scraped up, and the windshield. He wipes his forehead again and his fingers are smeared red. He puts that hand on the car and then has to—his legs crumple—he crouches, letting the car take his weight, feeling the engine in his bones. He can't think, with the rain this loud. His head hurts. He says, out loud, "I don't think I can do it," but it's hard to hear over the downpour, and anyway, no one's there to hear. No one's there.

There's a mechanic down the street from a motel. The windshield will be three hundred and that feels like too much but then, who would Sam ask, who'd be honest. He asks them to repaint, too, so he doesn't have to see the gouges of his fuckup. The mechanic looks at his forehead instead of at his eyes. "You get that looked at, sir?" he says.

Sam walks through the damp morning to the motel. The clerk frowns at him but Sam puts a hundred in cash on the counter and then there's the room, dim with the curtains drawn. Two beds—why? Habit. He's been sleeping in the car so that people won't ask the question. Trying to sleep. He takes off his wet muddy clothes and runs a shower, hot, and there's mud on his hands and blood too and the cut on his head bleeds pink against the white tub, and he's so tired he wants to just sit down, right there in the bathtub and let the water pound against his face and make it so he can't think about anything else, so he can't, so he won't have to—but he can't. He has to pick up the car at some point. He turns off the shower and dries off and walks naked through the dim room to the bed closer to the door and he crawls under the blanket and puts his face into the pillow and thinks that he won't sleep, because how can he sleep in a queen bed in a motel room in a town he doesn't know without his brother. He can't possibly. He can't, but he has to, because his brother is dead.

It took a while to come to that conclusion. Dick was gone. The air, throbbing thick and strange. The room empty. Sam stood alone in that awful building with distant alarms wailing and his head and heart entirely still, because there had been a place where his brother was, and now he wasn't there anymore.

He did research. He asked questions. He prayed, and when there were no answers to his praying he burned acacia and camphor and blood-red petals of anemone and demanded a demon, but none came. He knelt on the road at midnight with dirt caked under his broken nails and was prepared to offer—what little it was worth, that he could offer—but no one arrived to take a deal. It was like the world he'd always known was there, that darker mystery that swirled under the daytime normalcy everyone else knew, had just vanished. Gone. He was finally free to live a life that was average, and safe, and boring, but what did it matter—how could it matter, without Dean.

There was booze but then there wasn't. There was a brief, considering moment when a dealer in Kansas City saw Sam's expression and offered relief, but it would've failed the same way the booze had. There was staying up until he had no choice but to pass out in the backseat and forgetting to eat and driving, nowhere, with no destination in mind, because what was there? A job, a ghost, a brutal and pointless putting of one foot in front of the other, when the only thing that had ever mattered, the only thing that had made the life he'd chosen worth choosing, was—

He drove until he nearly hit a dog, and hit a tree instead. He stopped not because he wanted to but because there didn't seem to be any point in driving more. He got a motel. He slept, because that was all there was left to do.

When he wakes up the room is dim with afternoon. The sun on the other side of the building. A reflection, from the vacancy sign outside, that throws up a white square on the wall. He watches it for a while, tracking how it moves slow over the wallpaper, thinning out as the sun falls. A slow eclipse, until it disappears.

What the hell, he hears.

He sits up, ignores the head-throb from moving. There, boots on the carpet, standing in the way of the bathroom, looking around like the motel's a surprise—six feet (forget the lie about the extra inch) and strong and beautiful as he ever, ever was—Sam swallows, drags in air that feels like it can't fit in his chest with everything that's roaring up in it—Dean frowns, and looks at him, and says, in a voice that sounds distant, Sammy, what the fuck.

Sam stands up and staggers. His head, god. He tries to step forward and it's Dean who comes to him, looking around, saying what's going on, where is this—are you— and Sam braces on the bedside table and reaches out but then Dean flickers, somehow, like a broadcast jolted with static, and Sam's hand curls in the air between them, his body flinching even if his mind doesn't quite get it yet.

Dean stops in his tracks and looks down. Spreads his hands, looking at the scarred knuckles and the more-scarred palms. Sam manages to get himself under control and stands up straight, and takes the step that means he's inches away, but no longer dazed from waking he can see: Dean's not here. Dean's not quite here. There's an almost-shimmery distance to him. A projection, on an inadequate screen. Sam looks at his face and just faintly the outlines of the room present are present, showing through him. A bitter taste in the back of his throat and he swallows, again, but manages to say, out loud, "Are you real?"

Dean looks up at him, brow furrowed. Could ask you the same thing, sport. Sam laughs, sort of, caught in his throat, and Dean's face changes. Jesus, you look like shit.

"Thanks," Sam says. Dean flickers again and it's nauseating to see the blank space where he was, even if he half-solidifies a second later. "God. I—can't believe this is happening."

Okay, but what is happening, Dean says, and looks around again. This isn't… He shakes his head and even half-there Sam can see the confusion, the annoyance at the confusion. His brother. His chest aches. I wasn't here. Where's here?

"Texas," Sam says. He still hasn't caught the name of the town. He reaches out because he can't not and his fingers brush—what? Nothing. The air's insubstantial because it's air. Dean looks down at his chest where Sam's not touching him and he says, very quiet, shit , and then he looks up and says shit, Sam , more loudly, and he reaches up and doesn't touch Sam's face because of course he can't, and it's only then that Sam realizes he's crying.

Hey , Dean says, and Sam shakes his head. "It's fine," he says, although of course it's not fine. Dean's eyes, concerned, and his nose with the bump Sam's so often traced with one finger, and his mouth, full and worried. He passes his thumb over where he ought to be able to touch Dean's bottom lip and Dean's eyelids flicker, his mouth parting. Sam shakes his head again, dizzy. Dean. He didn't think he'd see him again, outside of an afterlife he hadn't yet decided to try for.

Texas, huh? Dean says, after a few seconds. He smiles, fake devil-may-care, the expression that Sam's always loved and kind of wanted to smack him for, in equal measure. He looks Sam up and down, and raises his eyebrows, and says, guess it's true they make things bigger here, and it's only then that Sam remembers that he's naked, and even like this, a ghost or a hallucination or a fever-dream, Dean can make him roll his eyes. Dean's grin widens and he passes a never-there touch over Sam's bare chest. Hey, slugger, can't blame me for—

He disappears.

Sam stands there, alone, for a few seconds. He breathes deep, in and out. He passes his hand through the space where Dean wasn't and of course there's nothing there, and then he sits back down, on the bed, braced on his knees, looking at the faded plaid of the wallpaper and the day through the flimsy curtain. His face is still wet and so he knows—he hasn't cried, since that day, so he knows that something happened today that was different from all the ones that came before it. Dean's dead, gone, and yet he isn't. Sam licks his lips. That means there's—something to do.

He eats. He sleeps. He goes and picks up the car, and the mechanic looks less concerned when Sam takes the keys. He goes back to the room and reads a book, for a few hours, and doesn't remember a thing when he lifts his eyes from the page. He showers, again, before bed, and when he comes out the room is hot, and he taps the air conditioner and realizes, shit. Busted.

The clerk in the office is unhelpful. "I can move your room," he says, reluctant to do even that, but Sam's not leaving the room where he saw Dean. "Maintenance guy quit, so we're gonna have to call someone, might be a day or two."

Sam looks at him and chews the inside of his cheek. "You have the last guy's tools?"

He's never fixed an air conditioner but he knows how to use the internet. It turns out it's a little harder than the diagrams make it look. While he's got sweat between his shoulderblades and he's considering percussive maintenance that there's a huff of a laugh, behind him, and Dean says dude, you look like you're gonna have a stroke .

Behind him, raised eyebrows and amusement. A cut on his cheek—new? From what? "Sue me," Sam says, irritated. "I didn't go to HVAC school." Dean's grinning and the irritation washes away like it was never there. Sam steps forward and Dean's face changes, too, looking all over him. "Dean," Sam says, and feels— "Where are you? What's going on?"

Dean shakes his head. You know as much as I do, man. He hesitates. It's like—I've been asleep and I just woke up, but I can't remember what I was dreaming about.

Are you dead. The sentence forms under Sam's tongue and he swallows it. If Dean doesn't know then asking won't help, and if he is then Sam's sunk the same way he's been for the last month. Are you real is the next question, but then if he's not real then that means Sam's crazy, and Sam knows from crazy and, really, if he is, this is the best crazy he could hope for.

Dean's looking at him, not smiling at all, now. I miss you , Dean says, unexpectedly. He flickers—like he did before, a projection cutting out—but he's shaking his head hard when he resolidifies. Shit. I don't—I don't know what that is. I don't get it. You're right here and I'm missing you. How does that work?

"I don't know," Sam says, "but I know exactly what you mean."

The corner of Dean's mouth turns up, but it's not glad. Sam breathes out slowly, the hard knot of grief in his chest barely allayed.

It feels impossible. Maybe it is. He doesn't try to reach out again and neither does Dean. Dean's eyes flick up to the A/C unit and he jerks his chin. You need to take out the compressor , he says. Check the fuse box. I can walk you through it.

Sam's eyes are hot. "I know how to check a fuse," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows at him. "Not completely useless."

Prove it , Dean says. Bitch .

Sam rolls his eyes and turns away so Dean won't see that they're wet, and does.

Dean comes and goes according to some clock Sam doesn't get to see. Most days, Sam doesn't do much. He eats, showers, shits, sleeps. He watches bad daytime TV and not-much-better nighttime TV. He reads. He takes the car out on drives through the country. Flat around here, and what little green there is browning in the heat of summer. The office manager says he can stay at the motel for free if he keeps fixing things and so he does, and sometimes he's got his head under a kitchenette sink trying to figure out how not to dump backed-up foulness onto his face when there's a presence, all of a sudden, and his brother's voice saying why the hell are you using that wrench?

Sam's alone except when he's with Dean. The days smooth out into a routine. He wakes up sometimes and Dean's sitting there, on the edge of the bed somehow even though he can't really touch anything, and Dean'll say took you long enough, sleeping beauty , and Sam will roll his eyes and say, "Look who's talking, didn't you sleep through an actual earthquake once?" and Dean will grin and Sam will stretch out on his back and they'll bicker about the time in Portland, Maine, when Dad tanned both their hides for not being ready for the werewolf hunt at midnight, and they both insisted it was the other's job to set the alarm. I told you , Dean'll say, eyes crinkled like he's trying not to laugh, and Sam'll launch into his theory about how Dean's memory is shot from too much booze, and they'll waste the time, that way, ragging on each other. Other times Dean will be quiet, and so Sam will too, and they'll look at each other with their hands an inch apart on the blanket, and Dean will say, after a while, you remember? and Sam won't know what he's referring to, exactly, but he'll swallow and he'll say that, yeah, yeah. He remembers.

Moonlight makes Dean's face a strange, alien blue. In the day he's golden, gorgeous, cracks jokes and makes fun of the way Sam holds a screwdriver. Sometimes he has bruises; sometimes there's blood dried on the angles of his eyesocket. Once he shows up holding his ribs like something got him, wherever he is, and he just sits with his back to the kitchen cabinets while Sam fixes a garbage disposal and rambles about some time in Tulane when he dropped a ghoul and then banged a supermodel, that same night. "Oh, really," Sam says, pulling open the gears while he tries not to think about splintered bones, about the fragility of lungs, about the soft vulnerable edge of Dean's beating heart. "Tyra Banks or Kate Moss?"

Okay, Dean says, and does it sound thin? Hurt? So maybe not a 'super' model. But she was hot. He rolls his head to look at Sam and winks. Not as hot as some people, though. Don't worry .

"I was in a panic," Sam says, dry, and Dean chuffs laughing and then coughs, pained, and says, nodding at Sam's job, you're gonna want a 5/8ths for that , and in the next second he's gone. Sam braces his hands on the counter and breathes deep for a solid minute, bleeding inside his chest, before he goes into the toolbox, and gets the 5/8ths wrench.

The first time they were young, even if at the time Sam would've said otherwise. Their dad was gone and they were alone, really alone, for the first time in their lives—only, they weren't. They'd never been. An argument and a bad night and going out and finding Dean sitting on the hood of some wreck in Bobby's junkyard, and they'd said—he can't remember. Not everything. He does remember very precisely the moment when he gripped Dean's wrist and Dean looked up at him like he was surprised and Sam had said, you know, Dean, you know what I— and Dean had covered Sam's mouth with three fingers like it wouldn't be true, if he didn't say it. But then he tugged his hand away and he leaned up and kissed Sam, anyway, so it didn't matter so much, if Sam said it or didn't. That was the first time.

Over the years they fell closer together and farther apart. They hurt each other, sometimes so badly Sam thought it'd be forever broken and he'd just have to live that way, with his ribs split apart, bleeding where anyone could see. When they came back together it felt like nothing could ever split them up again. Not demons, or angels, or death.

The last time, they were in a cabin in Montana, and they were going to do something nuts in the morning. What else was new. It was quick, and then it was slow, and afterward Dean lay half-sprawled over Sam's chest, the two of them sticking together with sweat and worse, and Dean tipped his forehead against Sam's collarbone and sighed. This is such a dumb plan , he said, and Sam drew two fingers up from between his shoulderblades to the little soft hollow at the top of his spine, where his hair was shorn to velvet, and where Sam tended to bury his nose, when they slept in the same bed. When they let themselves do that. Yeah, Sam said, after too long, but when has that ever stopped us? Dean snorted, and rolled away, and Sam curled behind him that night in the too-small bed, and in the morning, for once, Dean woke up first, and he smacked Sam's shin and said come on, sleeping beauty, time to ride , and Sam groaned and got up and didn't think about it, much, and then that night Dean was dead. Gone, or dead.

He thinks about it, now. What he would've done, if he knew that was the last time he'd be allowed to touch his brother. What he might've said, if they'd had the chance. Before hell—before hell for both of them—they'd known what was coming down the pipe, and they'd been scared, and they hadn't screwed either time, or slept together, even. They sat, shoulder-to-shoulder, staying awake past midnight and through to dawn, and when it was time—they'd gotten in a goodbye, each of them, and Sam had ached to know how little that was. How it wasn't enough. This time—he didn't get a goodbye. He gets to look, but not touch. He gets to smile at him nearly every day and he gets Dean's jokes and his ridiculous stories and his safe, sure guidance, his eyes on Sam's speaking the promise they always gave each other—and it isn't, it isn't nearly, it isn't close, to enough.

Summer passes into fall, and fall into winter. Sam doesn't reach for the wrong wrench as often. He takes a drive through a cool twilight and when he opens the motel room door with a six-pack in hand, Dean appears one second later, looking out at the car through the window, and he says hey, how's the carb treating you?

He sits at the table in the room, taking the carburetor apart piece by careful piece. Dean looks over his shoulder, leaning on the table (somehow), pointing out where Sam's screwing it up (constantly). "Maybe if you weren't breathing down my neck," Sam says, and Dean snorts and says wouldn't have to if you'd ever paid attention to anything that wasn't Eskimo poetry , and then Sam tells Dean that Eskimo isn't an appropriate word to use, and Dean tells Sam that he need to clear the sand out of his vagina, and—it's not enough, but god if Sam isn't happier than he's been in—how long? Since the last time Dean was sitting right there, with his arms folded over the back of a chair, grinning at Sam and getting under his skin and just being—everything. Everything that mattered.

It starts to rain, before Sam's done. He leaves all the parts spread out and clean to dry on the table and sinks onto the couch with his beer, and Dean looking at him still from his backwards perch on the chair, and his grin softened down to something else. "What," Sam says, tipping his head against the wall. He's feeling mellow. In pain, maybe crazy. Content. Desperate. The usual. He's gotten used to it. Thinking maybe it'll be this way, ever after. Thinking he can handle it, if that's so. Dean's here even if he's not here, and that means that Sam doesn't want to be anywhere else.

Dean's got a bruise on his cheekbone, again. A cut on his lower lip. He looks tired. He flickers, precursor maybe to disappearing, but he stays. In the dim light he looks almost real. Almost present, like Sam could reach out and get his hand around his jaw and tell him everything he's ever thought, everything he ever wished for the two of them. How he meant it, when he told Dean there was nothing he wouldn't do. Even live, if that's what it came down to, just for the hope to see Dean's face, one more time.

The rain's loud, on the eaves of the motel. Dean hasn't said anything. Still just watching, his eyes steady. His mouth that soft curve. "What?" Sam says, again.

Oh, Dean says, quiet. You know.

Sam does.

#wincest #my writing #the formatting on this keeps feeling fucked but i'm just going with it #if i can't write right now #i can at least post stuff i wrote like six months ago

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years ago

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Drive By ~ Reggie (part 2)

A/n: This part’s Discord link! I want to clarify this time that the discord server is actually run by @httpnxtt ! So bless her for giving us a place to SCREAM (as we so often do!) Also I wrote this listening to “Lover Man” by Ricky Montgomery and this HEAVILY follows that song so feel free to listen to it to enhanse the experience!

Word Count: 7400+

Warnings: OKay so listen this part could potentially be super triggering so READ THIS PLEASE!!!! Grief (blaming yourself, anger, depression, etc), trauma reaction to arguing/yelling, trauma reaction to assumed physical abuse, implied minors having past sexual experiences, internalized homophobia, people discriminate against soulmates in this au, implied domestic disputes, rejection. I... think that’s it I’m so sorry if I’ve forgotten something.

MASTERLIST

Reggie really hated soulmates.

He liked seeing other people and their soulmates, and he loved talking about soulmates with other people. It's just, if he'd had the choice, he wished more than anything that he could have just... not had one himself. He'd rather just be one of those odd people who never manifested a soulmate connection; that would be so, so much better if this is what having a soulmate meant for him.

Now, Reggie didn't always feel this way. When he was younger he used to listen to people talk about their soulmates all the time and dream of a future when he got his. His parents had been one of those people who strongly believed that soulmates were a bad thing, and had been open and proud that they weren't soulmates. Maybe seeing them argue all the time had been the basis of his love for soulmates, and his drive to find his.

If only he could tell his young self that life isn't that simple. There's no magical cure to loneliness, and soulmates aren't all they're cracked up to be. Not for him. Nothing ever was, for him.

"Reg?"

The bassist looked over, eyes wide as his name was called. "Yeah?"

Alex was the one looking at him, concern creasing his features. "You seem really distracted today. You alright?"

In all honesty, he absolutely wasn't. Ever since they'd been forcefully brought back into the land of the living as ghosts, and now they were trying to make a band again and Alex had found his soulmate and the world was so crazy different and Luke was acting weird like he ALWAYS did when soulmates were involved and Reggie was really overwhelmed.

"Yeah," he answered anyway. Thinking about soulmates makes him finally make a decision he's been trying to avoid for a few days now. "I'm a little restless. I think I'm going to go on a walk. Take a page out of your book." He smiles and stands up, and Alex nods.

Luke looked over. Reggie should have known Luke would have known that Reggie didn't like walks like Alex did. "Do you want company?"

"No," Reggie answered immediately. It came off less as desperate and more insistent though, so he didn't stress about how fast he'd said it. Usually he'd love to have Luke around, but he couldn't for what he wanted to do. Especially because he knew the only reason Luke wanted to go along is because the last time one of them went on a walk they came back with a soulmate mark, and he didn't want Luke to be all over him and protective. He couldn't deal with that right now. Luke's face fell though and Reggie added, "I just need some space you know?" His voice was soft this time, and Luke nodded after a second, a small smile on his face.

With that, Reggie poofed out of the garage and was outside, turning away to begin walking down the road.

The sun was going down before he found what he'd been looking for. He'd had to sneak around and peak where he probably shouldn't of, but he had to know. Fine, it was creepy. He wasn't proud. But he... he HAD to know.

It was his snooping that had brought him to the graveyard.

Walking through the yard looking at every single head stone searching for the one name he was most afraid to see but knew he eventually would, Reggie realized that in all of the things that he had imagined when he'd thought about tracking down a certain someone from his past every single outcome possible made him just as sick as this did.

Finally he came across the grave he was looking for. At the top was a name. Y/n's name. Reggie sat on the dirt, legs crossed, hands in his lap. As he looked at the grave, he felt the top right corner of his chest itch. The spot just below his collar bone. His hand itched to touch it, but he wasn't like Luke. He didn't give into urges. He was too afraid if he touched it enough times people would realized the real reason he never wanted to change in front of anyone else.

His eyes closed and he sighed. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the gravestone. "I remember the night you left. The hours Luke spent crying when his soulmate mark turned grey. I remember Alex holding him so tightly and calming him down. How I had to..." He swallowed. "I had to be quiet about how much it hurt me too." He sat back, his eyes opening again as he looked at the year on the tombstone. He reached out, his fingers grazing over the year Y/n had died. "You died the same year we did. I wonder how it happened. How many months were you around that we weren't? What-" His voice choked with emotion. "Did you hear about us? What happened? Did you even care?" His voice was soft and it faded, his hands raising to rub at his face. Finally, Reggie shook his head and moved to his feet. He bent down to touch the top of the stone. "I'm sorry for how things happened all those years ago." And then he turned away and he left, and he didn't look back.

"You should ask him out."

Reggie jumped and his eyes whipped around. When had Y/n gotten to the studio? "Oh hey." He tried to smile and laugh the comment off, but his fear at being caught red handed made his stomach twist and both the sound and the expression he made were contorted with awkwardness.

Y/n rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall next to Reggie. "Listen I might be gay, but I'm not stupid." He grinned. "Luke. Talk to him."

Without meaning to, Reggie looked back at Luke. He was talking to Alex and Bobby about the newest song he'd written and how he wanted it to sound. Alex had asked about what the song was about and it had set Luke off for half an hour. Reggie hadn't taken his eyes off of the lead singer since the conversation had started. When talking about music and things he was passionate about in general, Luke was so... beautiful? That really was the word for it. He wouldn't have done it if he hadn't been sure no one was looking... he'd forgotten Y/n was coming over today. Even then, how did the dude just walk in without alerting a single other person in the room?

Reggie cleared his throat and looked away from Luke. At least it was Y/n. He didn't have to hide from Y/n. In the small time he'd been going out with Luke, Y/n had been the most amazing person Reggie had ever met. He was so warm and welcoming. He made Reggie feel safe, like every time he was around Reggie was coming home. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced since his parents had ruined the feeling of safety and belonging in his house, and since his feelings for Luke had made everything so weird for him in the studio. Both places had lots of good feelings and memories and got so very close, but it was Y/n that really drove it home, if you will. Because of this, when Reggie spoke, it was with defeat and not denial. "I can't."

"Why not?" Y/n asked.

Looking over at Y/n with an odd expression, Reggie felt himself get really confused. Was this one of those times he had missed something that was obvious to most people, or was that as weird as it felt? "You just learned I have feelings for your boyfriend and you want me to act on them?"

A soft, low laugh rumbled and Reggie felt himself smile despite himself. "He's not my boyfriend." Something between a grimace and a bittersweet smile rested on Y/n's lips, and slowly the sweet part of it was fading away. "He made that very clear." Reggie went to defend Luke but Y/n just held up a hand. "I know. I understand, I really do. Soulmates are like a huge taboo, and it doesn't help that we're both dudes. Trust me, I know how bad it can ruin your life when people find out you're not straight."

Reggie thought about Alex. "Most of us do," he said without thinking.

Y/n just nodded, not pressing Reggie for more information. Y/n was really good about reading people like that. Knowing what to say and when to say it. It was as if he could feel the spike of panic that Reggie had felt a second after saying what he had. "And I understand that too. I don't BLAME him. I'm not MAD at him. It just sucks. I mean, your parents don't know we're friends. None of your fans know I even exist. I mean Bobby and Alex are IN the band and they only found out about us like a week ago. We've been seeing each other for a month and a half." He scoffed. "I hate feeling like a secret. Like... he's ashamed of me. Like I'm sort of dirty pleasure. The way people look at porn." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly he's lucky he's worth it." This was said with more humor, and Reggie was relieved to feel the dark mood begin to slip away. "I have plenty of people who'd be very public about being in love with me." Then he winked at Reggie.

Without knowing why, Reggie's face went warm and his heartbeat picked up. It was the exact same thing that had happened when Luke made eye contact with him while they were singing, or when they got too close while sharing the mic and their shoulders or legs brushed. That moment of intense adrenaline when it was suffocatingly hot and Reggie's blood was rushing and then the guy he'd been crushing on for years looked at him and made him feel like he was the only person in the room. Reggie had always been so relieved that Luke could only do that during performances, when Reggie had something else to focus on immediately. When he had to be professional, and not when they were alone and he couldn't hold himself back from kissing Luke if given the chance.

How could Y/n make him feel like that now? They were just sitting here!

"If you're sad he won't publically be with you, then-"

"Because you two can have a relationship in public. People have seen you perform and no one blinks at it. Not at the way you look at each other, or how fine you are with invading each others' space. It's just written off as bandmates stuff. You probably share a room, or have known each other very long. Unless you kissed on stage no one would even care. Only the other gays would know and what are they gonna do, judge you?" He snickered and Reggie had to admit it made him smile. "You both have good reputations. It's as fair for me to be hidden as it is for him to hide me. He hates it - I can tell. He wants to go on actual dates or just been seen in public together. He wants to tell the girls that flirt with him to back off because he's taken. But he can't." Y/n sighed.

"And you think I can give him that?" Reggie asked. Y/n looked over, obviously surprised by the tint of humor in Reggie's voice. The bassist found it hilarious that all these things seemed to be a continuation of why Y/n wanted Reggie to give asking Luke out a shot... but then something clicked in his head and his smile dropped dead in exchange for wide eyes that matched Y/n's. "You think he likes me back." It was deadpan, opposite to the torrent of emotion inside of him.

Y/n scoffed. "Well YES, but... Reggie between us, you're the closest he's ever gonna get to a real relationship. The kind he wants, at least."

Reggie wasn't having that though. "Y/n he's head over heels for you. I didn't even think there was any room in that head of his FOR romance until he and Alex went out, and even then... I mean they broke up for a reason. Sometimes I feel like the only reason he-" Reggie snapped his mouth shut, eyes darting away as he realized what he was about to say.

By the look on Y/n's face, he got the feeling eh didn't actually have to say it. Y/n just nodded. "He only wants to be with me because we're soulmates." Reggie shrunk. "It's fine, I think so too. That's why I don't think I would mind if he did date someone else, along with whatever we have. As long as the person he decides to be with is okay with it. I don't know, I really like Luke and I really like us. I just feel like he deserves better sometimes, you know?"

The thing was, Reggie didn't know. He had never seen Luke as happy as he was with Y/n. He had meant that he only thought they had started dating because of the whole soulmates thing - Luke wouldn't still be with Y/n if the boy wasn't important to him. Luke looked at Y/n the same way he looked when he talked about music. But Reggie didn't know how to say that, so what he said instead was, "You matter a lot to him." It was quiet for a second before he added, "I don't think there are many people who make him as happy as you do. Even if you're just... here."

Y/n looked at his hands. "He told me about when he was a kid, and he'd check his body for any mark or name or phrase or anything. He told me about his parents had been missing s color before they met, and how they'd only told him when he was older and could keep a secret, but how they didn't want Luke to run away from potential great love because he turned away from his soulmate like so many do. They filled his head with so many hopes and dreams and... the way he looked at me that night. Without knowing anything about me, he looked at me like I was the reason the stars were in the sky. Sometimes I think that's all it is. That we share this mark, and the universe looked at me and whispered to him, 'that one'. He wouldn't have chosen me otherwise."

"He wouldn't have," Reggie agreed honestly. "But he has now, and I think it would kill him to lose you." Y/n went to argue, but this time it was Reggie who shook his head, cutting off whatever was about to be said. "I'm serious. You two are special. Don't diminish that."

After a second, Y/n's body relaxed and he smiled, nodding. "Thanks Reg." Reggie nodded and then they both looked at Luke, who was wrapping up whatever he was talking about, as Bobby wanted to get back to practicing. "I still think you should ask him out."

Reggie shoved Y/n off the couch at that, and both of their laughter finally brought the attention of Luke, who immediately ended the conversation by coming over and being within ear shot. Which meant Y/n had the last word.

This time.

"You're touching it again." Alex's eyes shot up to see Reggie's amused smile. He had gotten into the same habit Luke did; whenever he was nervous, his thumb would reach out to brush over the inked on words on his wrist. "What's bugging you?"

Alex sighed. "I'm just ALWAYS thinking about him, you know? Like I-" His face suddenly went very red. "I don't know, this feel so different to any relationship I've ever had. And maybe that's because the only other person I really dated was Luke, but-" He shrugged.

Understanding completely, Reggie nodded. "I get it. It must be nice, to have that. Do you think he feels the same?"

The blush got worse. "I... yeah." He cleared his throat and Reggie tried not to laugh. "We've been hanging out a lot and he's been answering a lot of questions. It's still not like anything serious - we're still getting to know each other, and we're both letting this take us where we want to go. Like, it's slower than it was with Luke, but faster than Flynn and Julie explained the pace of their relationship."

That made Reggie snort. "To be fair, it took YEARS for those two to do anything about their soulmate stuff."

"Yeah but they met super young," Alex reminded. Reggie nodded - that was a fair point. "Once they talked about what the soulmate thing between them meant, they took like a few months to figure it out. It's been like a week for us and I already feel like I've known him for years." He rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes kept flickering around the studio, and Reggie felt his stomach twist painfully as he realized what Alex was doing.

He was looking for Luke.

The last time they'd discussed soulmates, Julie had asked Luke about Y/n and it had gotten... awkward.

Reggie interlaced his fingers together to stop himself from suddenly scratching the intense itch he felt over that stupid, stupid mark on his chest. He couldn't stop thinking about it, but he refused to give himself away. He'd managed to hide it from his closest friends for an entire year - he wasn't going to trip up now. "Man, I'm happy for you. You deserve this. Not just the soulmate thing, but the way you talk about Willie makes me so happy for you." Reggie grinned despite himself. "I wish I could see you two together more."

Alex loosened up, his own smile growing. "Don't you listen to me talk about him enough without having to see me be an idiot in person?"

Reggie laughed. "You know I would love to see you be HAPPY," he stressed, raising his eyebrows. He always corrected his friends when they dished on themselves. "What you guys have is special."

Alex tilted his head. "You know, I always wondered what it would be like for you to get a soulmate. I bet you'd be even more a disaster than me."

Reggie had to remind himself that he was dead and didn't have a heartbeat, because he was sure he'd had a heart attack when Alex had said that. Once again, the urge to touch that damn mark was strong and he clenched his hands into fists so tightly his knuckles went white. "Yeah I've always wondered too." He cleared his throat. "That won't get you out of talking to me about Willie though. Come on, I have questions!"

The distraction worked... For now. He hoped it would keep working just a little longer.

Luke had fallen asleep hours ago, curled up with Y/n on the couch in the studio. His breathing was even and low and soft and it was almost enough to help Reggie go to sleep too. Only almost though, because Reggie was REALLY distracted by the way he looked with his hair falling in his face and his cheeks squished as he lay his head on Y/n's chest. He was even more distracted by the thought of being like that with Luke and feeling guilty because the more he thought about it, the smugger Y/n got and the smugger Y/n got, the more Reggie thought about it. It was a cycle and he was slowly going absolutely insane - the entire time, Y/n wore a knowing smile and barely held back from busting up laughing at him.

It was no different now.

"You're ridiculous," Y/n sighed softly.

"Shut up," Reggie complained, his eyes closing. It wasn't so much an order as it was a whine, and Y/n had to force himself not to giggle. Laughing would move his chest and wake up Luke, and the boy desperately needed sleep.

Y/n sighed. "I don't know why you don't just ask him out." This time Reggie groaned, but still kept it soft as not to disturb Luke. Bobby and Alex had gone home hours ago, and the three of them had stayed to talk, but Luke had fallen asleep so that Y/n was pinned. The problem was he couldn't get comfortable as he sat in the middle of the couch, leaving him nothing to lean against and fall asleep on. Y/n had invited Reggie to sit next to him and be Y/n's pillow, but the bassist didn't think he could handle that AND Luke without combusting.

Pulling his thoughts away from thinking about Y/n sleeping on him - because for some reason, that was so much harder to deal with than imagining Luke doing it, in the sense that it made his heart want to explode and his head feel fuzzy and his skin tingle and that terrified him in a way he could not explain - Reggie moved his gaze toward the roof before saying, "It wouldn't work out."

There was some shuffling and Reggie looked back to see Y/n very slowly, skillfully maneuvering Luke in a way that didn't wake the brunette as Y/n slipped out from underneath him. Luke complained in the form of sleepy, incoherent mumbles and scrunching up his face for a few seconds, but was otherwise undisturbed. Reggie was astounded. Luke was a light sleeper, so the feat alone was amazing... but also, if Y/n could do that the whole time why hadn't he done it much earlier instead of asking Reggie to join the sleep train?

While he was busy being surprised, Y/n settled in a new spot, next to Reggie. He reached out, his hand cupping Reggie's cheek to gently bring the boys' eyes to a meeting point. Reggie felt his throat clog up and swallowed to force down the lump attempting to choke him. "Reggie," Y/n asked in a soft voice, eyes earnest and wide. "Why don't you think you deserve love?"

Reggie was speechless. How could Y/n have POSSIBLY known that? "I didn't say-"

Y/n shook his head. "You didn't have to. But that's not important. Don't start lying to me now." Y/n was very close and Reggie could not summon a single helpful thought in all of the possible workings of his human mind. He HAD many thoughts, but not a SINGLE one of them included him thinking straight and it was immediately an intense struggle. "Reggie, you are so amazing," Y/n whispered, and the raspy touch in his voice made Reggie die a little bit inside. "You're so kind and warm and soft, like as a person. You feel so much and have so much compassion and care so much about people. I don't know what you think it is that has you so convinced you don't deserve EVERYTHING the world has to offer and more, but I promise you that everyone who matters? Alex, me and Bobby, and YES, even Luke - we all see how incredible you are. Please tell me you can see it too, even just a little bit.

A good swallow finally dislodged the lump in his throat, and Reggie found his voice. "Y/n..." He shook his head, and Y/n's hands fell to his shoulders. "I just feel... different than everyone else. I'm..." He couldn't find words. "It's not that I don't think I deserve happiness. I just feel like I'm not ever going to find it. Not like you and Luke. I don't think that's part of what's going to be in my future. I feel like I'm missing something important sometimes. Something other people just have, and are born with. Like a really key part of a puzzle?" He shrugged, turning his head away.

"Oh Reggie," Y/n whispered in that same soft tone that spoke volumes of softness and fondness. "How could you think you need anything other than what you already have, when what you have is so amazing and special?" Reggie looked over as Y/n's left hand shifted Reggie's collar to touch his skin at the top right of Reggie's chest with his palm. Y/n's fingertips grazed Reggie's neck. "Do you feel that, Reg? Your heart..." Reggie realized why Y/n had moved his shirt - to feel his heartbeat. "You bleed kindness. You have always, I think. From what I've seen, and what I've heard, you're surrounded by hardship and hate and struggle, and somehow you came out of all of it with a heart gushing with love. I don't care what you think you're missing. You have THIS, and that is ALL you need. YOU are enough, Reginald. You are all anyone ever needs."

Reggie felt an... odd sensation. A warmth that spread through his body, from where Y/n touched him. At first he thought it was just that the words had touched him so much, but as the warmth faded, there was something left behind. A tingly buzzing sensation, right where Y/n's palm touched Reggie's chest.

Eyes widening, Y/n moved his hand away. It was only then they both realized it was the same hand he had touched Luke with for the first time. The same hand that had the Rose tattoo. The one that matched the one on Luke's shoulder. The shape that marked the two boys soulmates. The mark which before had been only one outline of a rose... but was now two roses, crossed over each other. Identical, but facing opposite directions. Their stems curled the same way, the tilt was the same, but they faced opposite directions, ending up crossing each other.

"Oh my god," Y/n whispered. His eyes moved to Reggie's chest, which was still slightly exposed. His eyes went wide, his face draining of color.

A sort of panic suddenly flooding him, Reggie shot to his feet and flew to the bathroom. He tugged down the color of his shirt, looking in the mirror. To his horror, where Y/n's hand had touched his skin was the detailed drawing of a rose without any color. The same mark that had been on Y/n's palm and Luke's shoulder since they had met. Their soulmate mark.

His eyes caught motion and he looked over to see a suddenly shy Y/n in the doorway. "So," the teen edged, tension in his shoulders and hesitation in his eyes. "I guess this means we're soulmates too. How fun is that?"

"I guess I failed on that whole not coming back thing." Reggie was sat on the dirt plot in front of Y/n's gravestone again, shaking his head at himself. "I promised last time was my last time. Did the same thing the time before that." Reggie could feel his heart ache and his stomach tie into knots so tight that they gave him a stomach ache. His eyes watered as he looked at the name on the stone, blurring the words as he felt his heart scream in his chest. He put his face in his hands, slowly moving his fingers so they wound into his hair. "I miss you so much." He was crying, his body shaking violently as he tried to hold it in and failed. "God I'm so sorry Y/n. I'm so sorry I ran from you back then. That I pushed you away and ignored you. You were the only person that knew. The only person I could talk to about this."

For a second he cut off, and he really cried. He cried and cried until his throat was sore and his body felt painful from how tight it was wound. He knew the pain wouldn't last. Physical pain never did now that he was a ghost. It didn't change the fact that his very soul ACHED. He felt like he was missing something important. Something irreplaceable. Something precious. And it was all his own fault.

When his voice returned, it was watery and weak. His words were torn and broken with hiccups and stuttering. He was absolutely miserable. "Y-you said- I tried to- and you just-" He pulled on his hair, suddenly ripping his hands away from the strands to angrily wipe at the stupid tears that wouldn't let him talk. He NEEDED to talk. He had to get out what he was feeling and make sense of all of the thoughts in his head.

He had gone through denial the first time he'd come here. He'd thought it was some sort of conclusion. A letting go of the past, to know that Y/n was gone. It was supposed to be an answer to a question. He was supposed to be relieved to know what happened. He was supposed to just find out where Y/n had ended up and then be fine with it. He had even visited the second time only to give a proper goodbye, and that was when it had hit him.

Y/n was gone. He hadn't grown up. He hadn't found happiness. He hadn't experienced a world accepting of him. He hadn't found someone else and been happy and safe like he deserved. The pain that thought brought him was more overwhelming than the realization that Reggie himself had suffered the same fate. More sharp than even Alex or Luke suffering the same fate, because at least the three of them had each other. They had Julie and the band, and they had skipped right to the good parts and missed all the bad parts where people fought tooth and nail for the world they had now. But Y/n had only ever had Sunset Curve. He didn't have anyone else that cared about him. He had died, probably alone and miserable, feeling rejected by the two people he felt for the most, and probably forgotten by the two friends he had. The only four people that had been kind to Y/n in a very long had all shut him out and in his last moments, he had no one to turn to.

The third time Reggie came to visit, the pain had been replaced by guilt. He had spent nights awake thinking about all the times Y/n had begged Reggie to tell Luke about the rose. About Reggie being their soulmate too. Y/n had spent weeks and weeks trying to get them all on the same level. Trying to work it out. But Reggie had rejected him. Had run from him, the same way Reggie had been run from. He hadn't helped when Y/n had needed it as things turned south with Luke. He hadn't helped when Luke had come to him looking for advice after the fight with Y/n. He had told Luke to forget about it, and now Luke hated soulmates and Y/n had died alone and it was all Reggie's fault. If he had just been braver. A better friend. A better soulmate...

His fourth time at the grave, all he felt was anger. Anger at himself. Anger at Luke and Y/n for fighting. Anger at these stupid soulmate marks. Anger at the world that had raised him for seventeen years to hate the best parts of himself. To fear the way he loved, and the people he loved. He was angry at the nightmares and the pain and the worry and the stress that had been so needless. Why couldn't men be in love with each other? Because it wasn't how people had loved each other in public? Because it was new? Because it was different? Why were soulmates so terrible? Well that one he knew. Soulmates had been such taboo then because it was one less thing people could control. One less part of peoples' lives that could be locked down and forced around. A power stronger than any law. An energy that fueled hope. Hope, an emotion stronger than even fear if grown and bolstered. And that's what soulmates did, right? Encouraged people to think differently. See more. Try something new. Soulmates could be two men, or two girls, or a man and a woman. It could be anyone. Soulmates didn't gender code like society wanted them too, so obviously they were evil. Julie had gone off about it one day and you know what she was right! It was bullshit!

It was the fifth time Reggie had come with pleading eyes and begging and pleading. He had sat in front of that stupid gravestone and tried not to cry as he prayed to whoever might be listening. As he talked to thin air. As he picked up fistfuls of dirt and chucked them at the gravestone and demanded a second chance. He had screamed and kicked it and almost fallen on his face when he went through the stone. The fifth time Reggie had lost his mind, and he had spent hours trying to just get the chance to say sorry. To tell Y/n all the things he'd been wanting to tell him for so long. All he wanted was five minutes. Didn't he at least deserve that?!

Now Reggie had no other emotions left. He didn't have denial to lean on, or anger or desperation or anything else. He had used up every emotion he could think of - even jealousy for a while, as he listened to stories about Julie and Flynn or Willie and Alex. He had used one after the other until he was left stripped bare and emptied out. And now as he sat there, he cried and cried until the sadness was gone too and the tears all ran out. And then he just sat there and stared at the grey stone that was always cold and always had Y/n's name on it and offered no help or love or reprieve or condolences or even a little mercy. He looked at the grey stone and he felt a sort of kinship with it. He felt his insides pulse with a dull ache, as if they were sore. It sat there, reminding him consistently that he just felt... hollow. Empty.

Numb.

His fingertips grazed over the words carved to make Y/n's name, and he thought of the time that Y/n had tried to touch Reggie's soulmate mark; something Y/n did to Luke to remind both of them that they were soulmates. He remembered the day Y/n had begged Reggie to realize what they were. To really know it and really FEEL it and Reggie... he had pushed Y/n's hand away and said something he'd regret the rest of his life, and even after that.

How could one hotdog take so much from him in one go?

It wasn't fair.

"Reggie..."

Immediately, Reggie felt his body tense. "Where's Luke?" was his reply.

With a careful tone, Y/n answered, "That's what I came to talk to you about." Reggie's body only grew more rigid, but that didn't stop him moving away with ease and much speed when he felt Y/n's fingers graze his shoulder. He had been doing that every single time Y/n touched him since... since... His hand twitched and he almost touched the mark he had been ignoring for weeks, but managed yet again not to. "Reg," Y/n whispered. His voice sounded so frail and weak. So desperate. It was enough to break Reggie down enough that he slowly turned around.

And then immediately regret it.

Y/n looked like he'd been wrung out and hung to dry up in the sun. His skin was a different color than usual, like he felt queasy or was sick. There were bags under his eyes, and a expression on his face that made Reggie's heart burn with a pain he wasn't prepared for. He looked like he had been crying instead of sleeping. "Y/n... what happened to you."

Immediately, Y/n's shoulders sagged. he looked so small and defeated that Reggie drew back even more. The very air around Y/n simmered with pain and ache. "I'm... trying to make this work. This thing with Luke and- and with you-"

"Don't include me in that," Reggie snapped. He hadn't meant it to come out so harsh, but his panic had gotten the better of him and he had sounded angry. Like he was accusing Y/n of something.

Y/n's vulnerability was crushed to dust, and his face hardened and his body began to shake every so slightly. Reggie felt the yelling coming before he could hear it, and immediately his head was full of night spent curled in bed, trying to sleep as he crushed his ears with pillows and blankets and even his own hands to try and make himself stop hearing the shouts down the hall.

Y/n never yelled. He hadn't yelled once.

Hearing him yell now was so terrible that Reggie was stunned into silence for a solid minute.

"GODDAMNIT REGGIE!" He shoot his hate, his face twisted and his hands curled into fists and for a terrible second he thought Y/n was going to hit him. And then he immediately didn't understand why, because Y/n forced his hands opened and the earnest desperation was back and despite his anger he was pleading, and in that moment Reggie realized what he should have known by now: Y/n would never hurt him. Y/n would never hurt ANYBODY. Reggie was the one causing pain, and it was to the softest, kindest person he had ever met. The person who felt more pain than anyone else Reggie knew, and who still refused to let it destroy him. When Y/n spoke again, Reggie felt terrible to hear how raw the words sounded. "I'm trying to make you understand. I- I-" His eyes watered and Reggie felt a part of him shatter. "I lo-"

"Don't you dare say it." It came out as a plead, soft and wet and corrupted by a primal fear that made Reggie feel sick to his stomach to hear.

Whatever Y/n had heard in those words, it had taken something vital from him. His face went slack and tears fell down his face. Slowly, one at a time. He just looked at Reggie like he'd been slapped, and Reggie wanted to run away but he was frozen in place. "Do you just not like me back? Is it just about Luke? Do you only-?"

"I don't like Luke," Reggie demanded, finding strength in his voice again.

"Yes you do!" Y/n insisted. "I KNOW you do Reggie! I know you do because I see the way your hands twitch when Luke is near you, like you're dying to touch him. I see the way you look at him when you think no one is paying attention. I know he keeps you awake on the nights you can't sleep, and I know he's been as close to home as you could get for years because you go to him every single time you're upset or lonely or unsure. You seek comfort in him when you're hurting and you look to him for direction when you're lost."

"Stop it," Reggie whispered, his fingers curling into claws, nails digging at his skin even through his jeans.

Y/n just kept going. "And I know he feels the same about you because he says your name like it's the most beautiful word he's ever said, and he touches you like it brings him peace, and he talks about you like your his favorite song, and he's driven so intensely to be close to you like you're a fire and he's freezing. I see the way he looks at you and if I had a penny for every time he mentioned your name when the two of us were hanging out alone, I wouldn't be-"

"STOP IT!" His hands flew up to cover his ears... but for some reason Y/n cringed away from him. It felt like a punch to the gut to realize that Y/n had the same reaction as Reggie's had earlier. Y/n had, for some reason, thought Reggie was going to hit him. A look of guilt crossed Y/n's face and Reggie knew exactly what he was thinking. Reggie would never do something like that.

Whatever Reggie had, Y/n had it too, and that somehow made it so much worse.

For a second, they just sat there in silence. But then Reggie lowered his hands, very slowly, and Y/n spoke. "Is it because of me? What I was before you guys met me? What I did?"

Reggie didn't have to ask what Y/n meant. He knew full well how Luke and Y/n had met, and what it had meant. He knew that Y/n was touchy about this topic. He knew that it was something that Y/n had stressed about for a long time until he'd learned that Luke didn't really care or think about that stuff. How much it had been a relief for Y/n to get away from a life full of people and relationships that only wanted one thing from him. How nice it had been for him to get a break from meaningless interactions and one night stands and phone numbers he never bothered to keep.

Reggie also knew this had NOTHING to do with that. Reggie didn't care about Y/n's past, or how other people saw him. He knew better. He knew Y/n had a person. However, upon being given any other reason than the truth, Reggie's instinct was to take it and run. However, he knew this was worth than the truth. And for a split second he had to switch gears from accepting the excuse to dismissing it. He had to take just a fraction of a second to shut that down in his head, despite what his first thought had been.

It created a moment of hesitation.

A moment Y/n took as an answer.

Even when Reggie finally stuttered out an, "Of course not!" Reggie knew it was too late. Y/n stepped away from him, his face crumbling. The air had been knocked out of Reggie's body as he scrambled for something to say. "It's not Y/n I swear."

Y/n looked him dead in the eye. "Then what is it?" Reggie's mouth snapped shut. "Please Reggie, give me one other reason that makes sense. Tell me that it's not that you see me the same way everyone else does. That you're not just a little bit disgusted with me, and that's why you HATE the idea that we're soulmates. Tell me why it makes you so angry to think of being with Luke, when you're so obviously into him, if it's not because not even a little part of you think he's tainted because he's been with me even if it's not... like THAT."

Reggie did the worst thing he could have ever done.

He stayed silent.

He was too petrified to give Y/n the answer that could fix all of this. The answer that could clear the air. Maybe Y/n could help. Maybe they could make everything better. Maybe...

Whatever he'd been thinking it didn't matter, because the words didn't come out of his mouth and then the door to the studio opened and Luke was standing there, looking between them with eyes full of concern and confusion as the poor boy watched the two most important people in his life argue. Y/n went to leave, grabbing his bag as he made his way out of the studio, and Reggie let him walk away thinking something so damaging and wrong. Something that would ruin everything - all because Reggie was a coward.

"Mommy! Mommy! The angel helped me!" Reggie didn't even process it properly. It wasn't important. It didn't pertain to him. Why would he make note of it?

How wrong he was thinking that.

His mind was so focused on Bobby who was now Trevor, who had stolen their music. Who had stolen everything closest to Luke and hurt the man Reggie would anything for. Reggie was on a war path. He couldn't think about anything else until he heard Luke distinctly whisper in the softest, shakiest voice, "Y/n?"

Reggie's head whipped around to look at Luke, only for the action to repeat again as he quickly followed Luke's gaze to see....

Unable to help himself, Reggie gasped.

There was Y/n, in the exact same condition he'd been in the night he'd stormed out after arguing for Luke. That night was branded in Reggie's mind - he was sure Y/n was even wearing the same outfit. No... Y/n had never worn white while he was alive. Why was he decked head to toe in white?

The angel helped me! That was what the little girl had said. Had she been talking about Y/n? He saw the little girl, being pulled along by her mother, and that was when Reggie realized the child could SEE Y/n. In surprise, Reggie looked back at Y/n, and as if feeling his eyes, Y/n looked back at the same time. His eyes shot a mile wide, filling with even more hurt than had already been there just looking at Luke, who Reggie realized had been the target of his sad gaze before it had landed on him. The second their eyes met, Y/n was gone, disappearing in the same flash that he had seen Alex and Luke disappear in when they disappeared.

Luke fell to the knees, and Reggie felt the world crumble down with him.

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years ago

Text

"Doppelganger" *Part 23*

WHOO, y'all. I don't know what it is about this story but I am just...rolling it all out with the tragic backstory. No angst, I promise-- It ends happy chill out. But damn. Maybe I'm working out my own issues in here...lulz.

This gif will make so much sense you have no idea.

PART 22

Part 24

Tag List

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------

“....And how did that make you feel?”

You tried not to laugh out loud as the question left Dr. Crestview’s mouth. Did she really just ask you that?

“...I mean it makes me ‘feel’ bad,” You rolled your eyes with a laugh while looking out the window. When you turned back to the doctor she was not laughing, and she was writing something down.

“...That was a joke,” You clarified.

“Oh yes, I get it,” She nodded as she continued writing.

“Do you?” You asked her frankly. The question caused her to stop writing and look at you.

“Mrs. Barba--”

“Ms. YLN,” You corrected. “I’m not married yet,”

“...Hmm, interesting,” She wrote something down. Seriously? She even had an insight on what-- technicalities?

“I’m sorry, was that some sort of test?” You asked sarcastically.

“Actually, it was,” She said to your surprise.

“Excuse me?” You looked at her, baffled.

“You know when most women get engaged, they start imagining their last names as their husbands. You know such as changing their signature, gathering documents, and the like,”

“...Are you serious?” You laughed again. “This is 2021 lady, half the women I know didn’t even take their husband’s last name at all,”

“And is that what you’re going to do?” She asked. “Keep your last name?”

“...If I say yes are you going to psychoanalyze that too?” You crossed your arms.

“In my experience Ms. Y/L/N, women who don’t want to change their last names tend to do so because they want to keep their independence, their…’identity’. They think taking a man’s last name is ‘giving up’ something. Giving up their identity,” She explained.

“...And?” You gestured with your hand as if waiting for her to continue.

“And in my educated opinion, it also signifies a woman going into a marriage with one foot out of the door already,” She simply stated.

“Wow,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “Did I come here to resolve my trauma, or for marriage advice?”

“I think they’re one and the same, Ms. Y/L/N,” She stayed completely calm and emotionless.

“Are they?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Given what you’ve told me in our last few sessions, you’ve given off a tone that you don’t think you deserve good things. Maybe you’re keeping on foot out of your relationship so that when it falls apart, you’ll be ready,”

“Wow....wow,” You started to stand up and storm out of the office, but she stopped you with a question.

“I’m sorry if I offended you with my observation Y/N, but be honest. Am I wrong?”

You thought about all the talks you had with Rafael about ‘not being good enough’ for him, or ‘stealing his love’. And on the one hand you felt that you were ‘connected’, you felt safe and secure. After everything you’d been through, it was almost impossible not to be, right? Right?

“....And what is your magic solution to this feeling, doctor?” You crossed your arms.

“You need to forgive yourself,”

“...Jesus Christ,” You rolled your eyes with another laugh as you paced the room. “Really? That’s your solution? Telling me something I already know?”

“No, my solution is this: You need to apologize to your parents,”

“EXCUSE ME?” You practically screamed.

“You blame yourself for their death, correct? You think that because of their desire to make you happy they risked their lives driving into the city and therefore got into their accident,” She looked over her notes from past sessions with you.

“...Right,” You looked down at the floor.

“And I don’t think that you have ever forgiven yourself for that. And in not doing so, you haven’t forgiven yourself for anything you’ve done since then. All these things you say you’ve ‘done’ to Mr. Barba that you should be ‘punished’ for-- he doesn’t see it that way. Other people don’t see it that way. Your parents' accident wasn’t your own doing, getting kidnapped wasn’t your fault. I think that you need to find closure with your parent’s death before you can even begin to ‘forgive’ yourself for whatever transpired between you and Nevada Ramirez,”

“....So you want me to apologize to my parents? How are they going to ‘forgive’ me?” You asked her.

“I think you’ll find Ms. Y/L/N that just the act of apologizing will bring about its own form of forgiveness,” She smiled.

“.....Right…” You tried not to sound condescending, but for a shrink she sure sounded crazy.

“Or don’t listen to me, I can’t force you to do anything. But that is my advice,” She shrugged.

“Noted. Thank you, doctor,” You nodded and walked out the door.

----

You walked out into the streets of the city from your doctor’s office and thinking about just how or when you’d have a chance to go to your hometown where your parents were, when you were stopped by a young girl on the street.

“Oh my god...you’re Y/N!” She gasped.

“...Yes?” You stared at her blankly.

“You’re that girl who killed Nevada Ramirez!” She squealed, causing a few people to stare and take pictures of you as they walked past.

“Oh good lord…” You muttered nervously. “Yeah well um--”

“Can I get a selfie with you?”

“Um--” You looked around, not sure of what to do. You wanted to run down the street screaming, but you thought better of it. You turned back to her with the fakest smile you could form.

“Sure!” You threw an arm around her and smiled as big as you could as she snapped a selfie with her phone.

“Thanks!” She beamed at you. “ And by the way, your fiancé is REALLY sexy,”

“Oh girl I know,” You faked a laugh and a toss of your hair as she walked away with a laugh.

It really creeped you out that girls were ‘fangirling’ over your fiancé. As if you weren’t worried about keeping a hold of him all on your own. Also how did she even know what he looked like?

The article.

You grabbed your phone and did something you told yourself you’d never do: You googled yourself.

The first thing that popped up was an article on the NYTimes.com front page:

“Fairy Tale Romance Or Horror Movie?”

...What the fuck?

The article contained your video as the main focus. Then under it the article basically dictated the video, with Tasha’s opinions thrown in here and there. Then most of the photos from the photoshoot of you and Rafael were at the bottom of the page. They were gorgeous, you had to admit. Granted you were both airbrushed to hell, but Rafael in a suit drove you nuts. Even if it was just on a screen. You dialed his number as you continued walking down the street.

“....Hola, mi amor. How is my pinguino feeling?”

“Well she’s currently feeling like she’s got the sexiest man in New York City,” You grinned.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” He asked you curiously.

“Check out the picture I’m texting you,” You grinned as you texted him one of the photos from the spread.

“Oh Christ…” You heard him mutter through the phone, causing you to giggle.

“Oh yes, you even have your own fangirls now,” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“No I do NOT,” He argued in disbelief.

“Yeah I’d be careful leaving your office there counselor, a group of tweens might be waiting outside,”

“Oh my god...they’re breaching the doors!” He acted terrified, making you laugh harder.

“Oh I think I see one,” You whispered as if you were sneaking up on someone. “She’s holding a ‘Barba 4Eva’ poster board,”

“You better be kidding,” He warned.

“No, in fact I think she’s right outside your door,” You bit your tongue with a smile.

“Oh well I’d better call security then,” He chuckled as he sauntered over to his office door and swung it open.

“Oh my Gooodddddddd it’s Rafael Barba!!! The sexiest ADA in New York City!!” You giggled wildly, jumping into his arms like a crazed fan.

“I should definitely look into some armed guards at my door,” He laughed as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

“Oh most definitely, wouldn’t want to let the crazies in,” You nodded as you kissed him again.

“Well I think it’s too late for that…” He teased you while tousling your hair.

“Shut up,” You playfully hit his hands away.

“Speaking of crazy, how was therapy today mi amor?” He asked cheekily.

Wowwwww, sexy AND sensitive, how did I get so lucky?” You rolled your eyes. “Actually, she gave me homework,”

“Did she?” He inquired.

“Yes,” You suddenly got very serious. “She um, she told me I need to go see my parents,”

“...Your parents?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, something about needing to ‘apologize’ to them or some weird shrink thing like that,”

“....Do you think it will help?”

“I mean...” You sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t know. But I’d like to try,”

“Bueno,” He nodded walking closer to you and kissing the top of your head. “So are you going to go now or--?”

“Well I was kind of hoping you’d come with me,” You bit your lip. You didn’t know if asking him to come along on your shrink homework assignment was allowed, but you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Maybe that was the point.

“Really?”

“I mean, I met your family,” You half laughed, trying to make light.

“Right,” He nodded his head with a chuckle. “Well then, let’s go,”

“...Now?”

“Why not?” He started to walk towards the door.

“Don’t you have a job?” You pointed to his desk.

“Oh they just like to pay me to sit in here so nobody robs the place,” He joked as he grabbed his coat. “I have nothing going on today baby, they won’t miss me.”

“Okay then,” You shrugged uneasily. “Guess we’re going to Jersey,”

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

After a train ride and a taxi later, you arrived in your small town of Shallow Meadow.

“Christ Almighty, I knew Jersey was in the dark ages, but not even having Uber??” Rafael grumbled. He hadn’t been in the back of a dirty cab in such a long time, and now he remembered why.

“Alright Daddy Warbucks, chill,” You laughed as you started walking with him through town.

It was a quaint little town; one stop light, one grocery store, two bars, something out of an old movie really You know the movies where the car breaks down in the tiny shitty town and all the townspeople are flesh eating zombies or something. The people of Shallow Meadow were pretty much like that. Well, to you anyway.

“So why didn’t we just have the Mayberry Express drop us at the cemetery?”

“...Because we don’t have roads you can drive on up there,” You answered with a nervous smile.

“...Right,” He shook his head as he noticed people coming out of shops to stare at the two of you. “...Do I have some kind of weird sign on my back that says NEW YORKER or what?”

“No, but that thousand dollar suit screams “moneybags” out here,” You smirked. “Besides, they’re not staring at you they’re staring at me,”

“...What? How do you know that?”

As if it was answering his question, a girl with bright red hair dressed in farm clothing and holding a baby on her hip came sauntering up to the two of you.

“Well lookie here,” She smirked. “Miss Prissy Pants brought back herself a Prissy Papa,”

“Excuse you?” Rafael was taken aback by such rudeness by such a poorly dressed person.

“Marla back off,” You scowled at her. “Just because you’re upset I found treasure and you’re stuck with trash--”

“OH, is that what we are now? Trash?” Marla spat. “You have a lot of nerve coming back here and saying that, murderer,”

“WHOA,” Rafael stepped in front of you. “I’m sorry, what-- what did you just call her?”

“Did she not tell you the story? Oh no wait I bet she did, her version. The version where she’s the victim and we’re all just the villains. Isn’t that right, Prissy?” She glared at you.

“...I never said you were--” You tried defending yourself.

“Really?” She scoffed. “Then why did you not even bother to show up to your folks’ funeral? Their ONLY daughter, the ones they DIED for. Couldn’t even be bothered to leave her high rise in the city to pay respects to the parents she KILLED,”

“It wasn’t like that and you KNOW it, Marla! And why was I going to come back? The only two people left in this town that tolerated me were gone--” You got up in her face.

“AND WHY IS THAT, Y/N?” She got back in yours, her baby almost falling out of her arms.

“Alright lady I don’t know who you are, but you’re going to back the hell off my fiancée--”

“Oh good God, your fiancé?” Marla laughed. “You would find yourself a sugar daddy, since you killed yours,”

“Alright you know what we’re leaving--” You grabbed Rafael’s hand and stomped away towards a huge hill that had a sign reading “CEMETERY” at the top.

“I hope you’re heading up there to beg their forgiveness Y/N, ‘cuz you sure as hell ain’t getting any down here!” Marla yelled angrily after you.

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

“...Well I think we just figured out where your forgiveness issues came from,” Rafael tried making light of the situation.

“Ya think?” You nodded.

“This whole time,” Rafael shook his head. “This whole time I thought you just had it in your mind that you were responsible for their death. But-- but you had an entire town telling you that,”

“...Yeah,” You shrugged.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, baby?” Rafael took your hand as the hill got steeper.

“Because I thought they were right, Rafael!” You said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I tell you that an entire town thought that I was a murderer? That’s not really a selling point on a partner,”

“...You thought they were right?”

“...Well, yeah,” You nodded softly with a small smile.

“And now…?”

Before you could answer, you reached the entrance of the cemetery. Luckily it wasn’t that big; you were ashamed to admit you didn’t even know where they were buried. But you found them in a small corner under a shade tree. You walked up to their mutual headstone:

“Y/M/N AND Y/D/N: Beloved Husband And Wife, Mayor and First Lady.”

“...Mayor?” Rafael looked at you in surprise.

“Yeah, well--” You shrugged. “You see why they were so beloved, and I was the hellish daughter that killed them?”

“Y/N…” Rafael put a hand on your shoulder.

“I was supposed to want to ‘take over the city’, like I would ever want to be in charge of anything in this stupid backwards hick ass town,” You scoffed angrily, tears stinging your eyes.

“...But didn’t you say that your parents wanted you to go to Juliard? Pursue your dreams?” Rafael asked in confusion.

“They did! My grandparents-- they had a different view,” You shook your head. “The...the hierarchy here it’s-- well it’s not really a democracy,”

“...How so…?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Because everyone just loved and accepted my family as, I don’t know, the ‘royal’ family?” You felt so stupid comparing your family to the Royal Family, but you didn’t know how else to explain it.

“The Mayor and First Lady titles were just...passed down, in my family. And not because they were dictators or something,” You quickly added the last part, you didn’t want Rafael to think any less of your family than he probably already did.

“People here are just...simple,” You sighed. “They accept things the way they are, they hate change. So it was just assumed that my family would always be... "the family’,”

“But you didn’t want that,” Rafael said again.

“Of course I didn’t want that!” You scoffed. “I didn’t want to just get a high school degree and then marry some ‘Cletus’ redneck man from here and have ‘heirs’ just to keep the family going!”

“But your parents understood that,” Rafael reiterated.

“It didn’t matter what my parents did or didn’t understand. My grandfather had more clout with the townspeople here,” You rolled your eyes. “My dad was the ‘mayor’, but his dad controlled everything. His father had been the mayor for over thirty years before he passed it onto my dad, who didn’t really want it either” You walked up to the headstone and ran your fingers over your father’s name.

“....So when he tried to ‘save’ me from that life, my grandpa wouldn’t hear it. He blamed me for...for manipulating them into giving me anything I wanted, like I was a spoiled little child. He blamed me for them giving me their life savings to go to Julliard instead of putting it back into the town treasury. Then he blamed me when they got killed, and he just reinstated himself as mayor! Which, I haven’t checked but I’ll be damned if he isn’t still rattling around his old ass bones in our house! He’ll just haunt this place forever!” You threw your hands up and looked down angrily at the town down below.

“Carino…” Rafael came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You took his hands in yours and kissed them before turning to face him. You looked into his sparkling green understanding eyes for a moment, before directing your attention back at the headstone.

“....This is Rafael Barba, mama and daddy,” You pulled him gently forward. “We’re getting married soon,”

“...Nice to meet you folks,” Rafael said awkwardly.

“...Raffi they’re dead,” You smiled jokingly.

“Right, right,” He shook his head with a small laugh.

“...He’s a very good man, daddy. I know you always wanted that. And he’s very handsome, so you’ll have beautiful grandchildren mama, just like you wanted,” You smiled while Rafael softly chuckled.

“...I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come,” You finally said with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I should have been here sooner,”

“But you’re here now,” Rafael softly rubbed your back.

“Yeah…” You nodded softly. This was the hard part.

“...I’m---I’m sorry, that I made you feel like horrible parents that night,” You tried not to cry, but the memories of that night flooded your memory the more you spoke.

“I’m sorry that you thought you needed to come see me, that you weren’t good parents if you didn’t,” Your lip trembled, you fell to your knees.

“...I’m sorry the last words you heard from me were ‘I hate you’,” You finally broke down sobbing.

“Y/N…” Rafael knelt down next to you and held you in his arms as you cried.

“Do you get now why...why I don’t think I deserve you? Why don't I think I deserve anything? Why I think I have to take everything? Fake everything? Because I am such a terrible person my own parents died thinking I hated them because I was that horrible to them!”

“They didn’t think you hated them, carino,” Rafael rocked you back and forth. “They knew you loved them, I know they did,”

“You know you’re probably right, Rafael. But it--I needed them to hear it,” You nodded at the gravestone.

“And?”

“...And I feel a lot better,” You smiled as Rafael wiped tears from your face.

“Really?”

“Yeah…Really,” You chuckled. “I guess that therapist really knows what she’s doing,”

“She should for the amount of money I pay her,” Rafael shook his head with a laugh as he helped you stand up.

“...Thank you for doing this with me, amor,” You sniffled, pressing your forehead against his.

“Of course, penguino,” He kissed you softly. “And, for what it’s worth--” He added as you two walked back down the hill towards town.

“I think that if your parents were alive, they would be proud of you,”

“Oh, I know my mother would take one look at you and be DAMN proud,” You both laughed at that.

“And I also think they would be appalled to see how their townspeople treat their daughter,” He glared at the town.

“Yeah well,” You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” He took your hands as the sun started to go down in your sleepy little town. “Now can we please get back to the city before I catch something out here?”

“Yes,” You giggled, staring at him lovingly.

“Let’s go home,”

#rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #rafael barba fanfiction #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction smut #doppelganger

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onceuponaloonatic · 4 years ago

Text

so it turned into 8K oops... anyway this is like a samihyo prequel of sorts? please enjoy !!

tw: panic attacks, mentions of abuse, separation anxiety, and vomit

Mina wouldn’t say she loved her job. She didn’t hate it, of course, she had been the one who had decided to become a Japanese literature professor in the first place, but she didn’t love it either. She liked teaching, and all of her students had always raved about how good she was at lecturing and how she always took the time to properly answer their questions. She was fine with writing and grading tests, she always tried to write fair game tests that were designed with the idea most of her students could pass it, provided they put in the work to pass. None of those things ever really bothered, there was only one thing Mina absolutely hated about her job. And that was grading essays.

Since she taught a literature class, she knew she had to assign essays. The logical part of her knew they were important educational tools to help her students further their understanding of literature, but the illogical part of her never wanted to assign them. Because grading them took so much energy and always took so long. “You look like you're having a good time.” She loved Sana. She really did. But she couldn’t help but want to wipe that stupid smirk off of her face as she looked at Mina. Sana taught physics, so essays weren’t something she had to assign very often if at all. Of course Sana still had to grade homework assignments and tests, but they usually were a lot quicker to grade than essays. “I hate you.” Mina rolled her eyes, flipping to the next page. The essay she was grading had so many issues, she could tell it was written at four am probably after a couple cups of coffee. This was one of the reasons she hated teaching the lower-level classes, the essays were always so messy and rushed. “You know I’m joking right?” Sana wrapped her arms around Mina from behind. “I doubt it sometimes.” Mina sighed, relaxing in Sana’s arms. “Did you need something or are you just here to hug me?” “Hug you,” Sana answered easily. “Jihyo is busy with office hours and I needed to hug one of you or I would go crazy.” “My office hours start soon too Sana.” One quick glance to her clock and she knew they would be starting in fifteen minutes. “Don’t you have a lecture soon?” “I do.” Sana yawned. “Just a little longer. You know I didn’t sleep well last night.” “And who’s fault is that?” Mina questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Last night was your idea.” “Well I wasn’t the one who got carried away now am I?” Sana giggled. “I would have been satisfied after one.” “You're lying and you know it.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you have a doctor's appointment after your class today.” “Oh fuck.” Sana cursed. “I forgot.” She let out a loud whine as she tightened her grip on Mina. “I wanted to go home and nap.”

“We can reschedule.” Mina nodded.

“No. This is important.” Sana sighed. “We’ve been at this for so long. There’s really no point in giving up now.” “I know.” Mina sighed, tilting her head back to look Sana in the eyes. “This isn’t your fault, you know that right?”

“I know. Who knew having a baby was so difficult.” Sana did have a point. They were already almost four years into trying to have a baby. Originally, Mina had tried to carry, but after running some tests they found out she was infertile. She really hadn’t been expecting that, and it had absolutely crushed her when she found out. They had taken some time away while they decided what to do next. Jihyo had been infertile ever since a car accident when she was young. They had known about that long before trying to have a baby, so they knew if they wanted to have a baby biologically Sana was their only real option. After a while, Sana decided to start trying to get the procedure. They were all already in their mid-thirties when Mina had first tried to get pregnant, and now four years later Sana had reached the point that if she did get pregnant it would be a geriatric pregnancy. It didn’t stop her from trying, but it had inhibited her fertility quite a bit. Waiting to have kids had sounded like a good idea for the three of them when they were young. Since all three of them were professors, they didn’t start with all the money in the world. Over time, it had accumulated and now they were quite comfortable, but it hadn’t started that way. Mina and Jihyo had both been on the fence about kids in the first place, and they had agreed only once they felt completely ready. Sana never wanted to rush them, so she had been patient. Of course, their friends had all had kids already. They would babysit them quite a bit, which usually fulfilled Sana’s desire to be around kids for a while. Once they finally were ready, things were suddenly much harder. They had wasted almost a year and a half with Mina, and between that and deciding to start again with Sana, time had just made things hard. They had agreed that if by the time Sana turned forty she wasn’t pregnant they were going to give up and try to find another way. Adoption was always still possible, they had to remind themselves of that sometimes. “Tell me about it. Who knows though, maybe this time things will be different.” Sana giggled at her statement, kissing her forehead. “It’s nice you think that,” Sana whispered. “I should be getting ready for my class. I love you.” “I love you too. I’ll come to get you after my office hours end and we can walk over to the architecture building together okay?” Sana nodded happily at her statement. The two of them had lucked out, the physical sciences building and the literature building were right next to each other, so seeing each other was always easy. Jihyo on the other hand wasn’t as lucky, as the architecture building was all the way across campus. They all still made an effort to see each other at work, but it was difficult sometimes when Jihyo was almost a fifteen-minute walk away. “Yup. See you then.” Mina gave Sana another kiss as she left.

Mina had gotten to Sana’s classroom just in time to see the end of her lecture. She had always loved watching Sana talk about physics. Her wife was always so passionate about it, and she always looked so happy talking about things Mina could barely begin to understand. A lot of people were confused when Sana told them her job, thinking she didn’t look like or act like the type to be a physics professor, but Mina knew they were wrong. Sana loved physics, and teaching it had been a life dream of hers. Honestly, it was sometimes funny how different her and Sana’s jobs were. They were both professors, but how their classes were run and what they did was completely different. Sana did research projects, labs, and lectured while Mina did the opposite. She wrote and read theses, read essays, and spent most of her classes debating things with her students. Even the type of student they had were completely different. Sometimes one of Jihyo’s students would end up in one of Sana’s statics classes if she was teaching it that semester, and they could talk about the student at home. Mina sometimes felt jealous, but she also knew it would probably be weird for their students to have both of them when they were married. She also knew it would be weird if one of her students took a class with either of her wives, considering how completely different their departments were. “And make sure you finish problems 10 through 29 before the next class. We will be having a quiz next week over electrostatics and superposition so be sure to study. Have a good weekend!” And just like that students started to rush out of Sana’s class. It was a Friday afternoon, so Mina was sure most of them wanted to get home and let loose for the weekend. Her students were always like that on Fridays too. Some of them hung around after class to ask Sana questions, but Mina just waited for them to eventually trickle out to enter Sana’s classroom. “Hey darling.” Sana greeted her in Japanese. “Give me a moment to get my stuff.” “Of course.” Mina smiled at her, playing with the wedding band on her finger. “Take all the time you need.” Sana gathered a stack of papers off her desk, putting them safe in her work bag before going to erase the white board she had used to write one. Mina would offer her help, but she got a little lost just looking at the whiteboard. Sana’s handwriting was very neat, and she was sure if she had even the slightest clue what was happening in her wife’s class, following along with her work would be easy. But since physics had always gone so far over her head, she was just left to stare at it in confusion. Mina had sat in on one of Sana’s classes once, and she just spent the entire time so confused and struggling to keep up or pay attention. To be fair, the one time Sana sat into one of Mina’s classes, she fell asleep. Neither knew what was going on in the others subjects, but they enjoyed it.

“Are Hyo’s office hours over yet?” Sana broke her out of her trance. She noticed the whiteboard was completely clean and Sana had her briefcase in one hand. “Oh they are about to be over. You know she always has to have long ones since she is dealing with senior design projects.” Mina looked at her smart watch. Sana and Jihyo had gotten it for her for Christmas. She had recently taken up working out with Momo, and it was nice for keeping track of that type of stuff. Though Sana and Jihyo would always make fun of her when she would obsessively stare at how many calories she burned a day or how many steps she took. She just told them it was nice to know those types of things. “Since it’s the end of the year I’m sure she has an office full of seniors freaking out about their projects.” “Probably. I’m happy the physics department doesn’t have senior design projects. I think Nayeon Unnie’s department has them too and she always gets so stressed this time of year. You think the kids would learn to stop procrastinating.” Sana yawned. “Didn’t you write your entire thesis like a few days before it was due?” Mina giggled at her wife.

“No. I wrote it two weeks before it was due.” Sana rolled her eyes. “Plus it was good anyway.” “It was good.” Mina knew nothing about physics but she knew it had been good enough to get published in some fancy physics journal. She had helped Sana edit it, but still to this day knew nothing of what her thesis was about. Something about string theory. Mina honestly still had no clue. “But you shouldn’t judge the students. You were the same way in college.” “Well I got away without having to panic and go to my teachers’ office hours at the last minute.” Sana mentioned, eyeing Mina. “I’m just that naturally intelligent.” “Uh-huh.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Naturally intelligent. Yeah that’s one way of putting it.” “Hey!” Sana pouted. “I’m kidding. You are very smart baby.” Mina leaned in to kiss Sana’s cheek. “Thank you.” Sana smiled. “You're very smart too.” “In a different way though.” Mina mentioned. “Physics has never made any sense to me.” “Well it’s not like literary analysis is something I have ever been able to do.” Sana giggled. “Literature classes were the bane of my existence in high school.” “I remember. You would always whine to me you had no idea how to write an essay.” Mina laughed, swinging their hands. “I still don’t.” Sana nodded, taking in a deep breath. It was starting to get warmer as summer was fastly approaching. With Mina’s birthday about a week in the past they knew that the weather was just going to get warmer and warmer. “You have written papers that have been published before.” Mina rolled her eyes.

“Yes but those aren’t essays. Writing those is fun, writing essays is not.” Sana answered.

“You sound like my students. They hate essays too.” Mina giggled.

“Who doesn’t?” “I don’t.” “You hate grading essays.” Sana pointed out. “Grading essays is different.” Mina nodded. “Grading essays involves reading through so much bullshit, it always is so easy to tell who has no idea what’s going on. Plus I hate giving people bad grades.” “Even if they really deserve it?” Sana joked, getting her keycard out once they approached the architecture building so they could get in. “Yeah even then. Failing people isn’t fun.” “Well no it’s not fun, but there’s always that one student who doesn’t take your class seriously and doesn’t do any work and bombs all the tests. They deserve to fail.” Sana swiped her card and they went in. The doors were normally unlocked but since it was late on a Friday not all of them were. Some of the doors had been left unlocked for the students, but only really the ones by the main entrance. Since they always entered at a side entrance closer to Jihyo’s office, they always had to use their faculty key cards to get in. “Well yes I suppose. There was that one kid in my class who never turned in a single essay and left most of his final blank. I obviously had to fail him.” Mina had always liked the architecture building. The outside looked like all the other buildings on campus, but the inside was really pretty. She supposed that made sense for the college of architecture, but it was still nice to see. Jihyo’s office was right by the entrance, and there was a student in her office when they approached. She waved to them through her open door before turning back to the giant sheet of paper in front of her. The student looked tired and stressed, and Mina and Sana could both sympathize with her. Whatever she was working on looked like a lot. After a few minutes she seems to get her question answered, thanking Jihyo and leaving, her paper gathered in her arm and a cup of coffee in her free hand. “Hey baby.” Sana was the first one to give Jihyo a kiss on the cheek. “All done?” “Yup.” Jihyo nodded, stretching her back and looking Sana in the eyes. “Are you ready for your doctor's appointment?”

“I think so. We’ve done this so many times before I honestly think I’m on autopilot with these things now.” Sana giggled. “Check in, go take a pregnancy test, get a negative, talk to our doctor, get a shot, hope it works, and then go repeat the process when it doesn’t.”

“You never know. It could work this time.” Mina spoke up as she came in, Jihyo gesturing her over to her side so she could give her a kiss on the cheek. “It could.” Sana blew a chunk of hair out of her face. “But we say that every time.” “We never know though, Mina is right. It could work this time.” “Yeah.” Sana sighed. “We’ll see.” “Giving up is the worst thing we can do. Just stay positive.” Jihyo rubbed Sana’s leg affectionately, giving her the most positive smile she could. “It has to work eventually right?” “I suppose.” Sana hugged Jihyo tighter. “I hope it works soon.” “Me too darling.”

Sana had established a routine at the doctors appointments. They went the same every time, and after doing this for nearly two years they had just become habitual. At first she was a lot more emotional and excited for them, but now she had learned getting her hopes up too much would just hurt her in the end. She wanted it to work, she wanted it to work so badly, but she also knew she had no control on if it worked or not. The appointment progresses exactly like Sana predicted it would. She had been through this so many times, and who knew how many more times she was going to have to go through it. After it’s over, she makes Mina and Jihyo take her home so she can nap before she has to grade homework and eat dinner. They both happily let her nap, Jihyo going over some projects while Mina prepared dinner. They were used to this, Sana usually got tired after the procedure. They never knew if it was a side effect or it was something more emotionally based, but letting Sana sleep had always been good. “How was your day?” Mina hummed as she cooked. She had always enjoyed cooking, but cooking for the loves of her life was even better. Sana was a horrible cook, and they tried to only let her in the kitchen when it was something so easy even Sana couldn’t mess it up. Jihyo was better, and she would cook when Mina was tired, but she would be the first to admit she couldn’t even hold a candle to Mina’s cooking. Mina had grown up cooking with her mom and brother, it was something she just loved doing. She hoped their child would cook with Mina one day. “Okay.” Jihyo giggled as Mina worked. It was always so funny seeing Mina like this, being so adorable and domestic. Jihyo had loved it when they first moved in together, and she still loved it now. “Senior projects have eaten up my time again, like they do every year. What about you?” “Well I’ve read almost a hundred absolutely terrible essays about The Tale of Genji and a couple not so bad ones. No outstanding ones, but most of my students are burned out juniors, so that’s to be expected.” Mina answered honestly. “Teaching juniors is always so interesting. Most of the ones in my department are just trying to suck up to me because they seem to think I can get them an internship.” Jihyo laughed, putting her pen down and walking over to Mina, hugging her from behind. “But besides that, do you think it worked this time?” Jihyo and Mina always had conversations like this the day Sana got the procedure. They would wait until she was asleep to slip into the other room and ask each other if they really think it worked this time. They didn’t want to stress Sana out too much, so they tried to keep their honest opinions for quiet discussions when she was asleep. “I’m hopeful. The doctor said we have a fifty-fifty chance this time.” Mina nodded, her shoulders relaxing as Jihyo held her. “What do you think?” “I think it worked.” Jihyo answered honestly. “Well I mean we won’t know that for a while- but this time I feel lucky.” “You’ve said that before.” Mina giggled when Jihyo kissed the side of her neck, her hand twitching from where it was stirring the soup she was cooking. “Well I really believe it this time.” Jihyo retorted, leaving another butterfly kiss to Mina’s neck. “Just wait, you’ll see. I’m just worried about Sana, I’m scared she’s giving up. You know it will never work if she gives up.” “Well I hope you're right about it working, but I think Sana’s fine. She’s just trying not to get her hopes up too much every single time, I know she would do that when we first started and I think it became too much for her.” Mina was about to turn around and give Jihyo a kiss when Jihyo’s phone lit up, buzzing violently on the counter. Jihyo eyed it with an annoyed expression before Mina pushed her towards her phone.

“It’s just Nayeon.” Jihyo rolled her eyes, rejecting the call and putting her phone down.

“You should have answered it. It could have been important.” Mina giggled at her wife’s annoyance.

“It’s Nayeon, it’s never important.” Jihyo sighed when her ringer went off again. “I swear that woman doesn’t know when to give up.” “Well you may as well answer it. You know how Nayeon is, she’s going to keep pestering you until you answer.” Mina pointed out. “Fine.” Jihyo grumbled, accepting the call and putting Nayeon on speaker.“What do you want?”

“Jihyo guess what?” “No.” Jihyo answered, causing Mina to giggle. “Rude. You were supposed to say what.” Nayeon huffed. “Anyway, we got another dog.” “You got a what?” Jihyo asked in disbelief. She knew Nayeon and Momo were both impulsive, but sometimes it astounded her how they were able to make big decisions like this so easily. “Yup. His name is Boo. Kazumi found him on her way home from school and begged to keep him.” Nayeon happily recounted. “You know you really should stop spoiling her.” Jihyo caught Mina’s eyes as she talked to Nayeon. She picked up her phone and brought it over to where Mina was, wrapping her arms around Mina’s waist from behind. “We don’t spoil her. We just make her happy.” Both Jihyo and Mina had to roll their eyes at that. Kazumi was spoiled. They loved their niece to death but they both knew it. Haneul and Jae were too, but Kazumi was especially spoiled. “Besides she said she’s going to take care of it.” “Do you really think she will?” Jihyo asked, tightening her grip on Mina. “She’s twelve, I doubt she is going to be the best at taking care of a dog.”

“Agree to disagree.” Jihyo could tell Nayeon was rolling her eyes at her. “Anyway, because of the new dog-”

“No.” Jihyo didn’t even have to hear Nayeon’s question. “You didn’t even let me ask.” Nayeon pouted. “Im Nayeon I have known you for almost thirty years now, I know you were going to ask me to babysit your pets when you and Momo went out for some kind of romantic getaway.” Jihyo rolled her eyes. She turned when she heard some movement behind them, finding Sana standing in the entrance to their kitchen with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her hair messy. She giggled at Sana’s half asleep appearance and waved her over to them. Sana was always so clingy right after she woke up. Every morning she had to hug both of them for at least a few minutes. Mina and JIhyo were used to it, just budgeting some extra time into their morning for Sana’s hugs.

“No, no I wasn’t going to ask that.” Nayeon’s tone became a bit more serious. “Actually, I was going to ask if because of the dog I could come grab a few things from your house. I know you have some of Kookeu’s stuff lying around and we didn’t have time to stop at the pet store.” Jihyo immediately noticed Nayeon’s change in tone. She wasn’t telling Jihyo something. Even Mina could tell. “You can come over whenever you want Nayeon.” Mina spoke up for the first time. “Oh hi Mina.” Nayeon giggled when she heard Mina’s voice. “Thanks. You're amazing. Jihyo is always so mean to me.” “I am not mean to you.” Jihyo pouted. It melted quickly, once Sana got her attention with a little yawn. “Morning.” Jihyo whispered to Sana. Sana smiled at her and pulled her into a kiss.

“Yes you are. You’ve been bullying me since we were little.” Nayeon huffed. “I have not.” Jihyo rolled her eyes. “Anyway, come over whenever but don’t bring the Kookeu or the new dog-”

“Thank you so much, bye Jihyo!” Jihyo groaned as Nayeon hung up on her. “She’s bringing the damn dog isn’t she?”

“I don’t understand why you hate Kookeu.” Mina hummed as she continued cooking, chopping some carrots up for them.

“He always bites me.” Jihyo pouted. “It hurts.” “They are barely love bites.” Mina giggled. “You are adorable, I know you secretly like him.” “I do not.” Jihyo pouted. Sana gave her another kiss and she melted immediately. “Yes I know you're still here.” Jihyo giggled as her attention was turned to Sana. “So needy.”

“M’ not needy.” Sana pouted. “Just want kisses. Mina doesn’t kiss me when she’s cooking anymore.”

“Yeah I learned that one the hard way.” Mina giggled. She couldn’t count the number of times innocent kisses while she was cooking had ended in disaster. Especially when the kisses involved Sana. Jihyo was tamer, but she could also be a disaster when she wanted to. “You can go back to sleep if you need, dinner should be another twenty minutes at least.” “No. I need to grade homework.” Sana yawned, kissing Jihyo again. “Need help?” Jihyo offered.

“Baby you haven’t done physics since you were nineteen.” Sana nodded. Jihyo had taken some physics classes in college, but nothing like what Sana had taken. “I can still help. Did you make an answer key?” She doesn’t know why she asked, Jihyo knew Sana did. Sana had always been the type to go the whole nine yards for her students, anything she could do to assist their learning Sana did. Jihyo had always admired Sana for that. “Uh-hum. But it’s okay. It’s just homework, it shouldn’t take too long. I give them one hundred as long as they finish, I just like correcting their work when they are wrong.” Sana nodded, yawning once more before walking over to the kitchen table and sitting down. “But, after dinner.” “Work can wait until after dinner.” Jihyo smiled at Sana and then turned back to Mina. “Need any help?”

“Sure.” Mina smiled at Jihyo before moving to let her help. Sana smiled at the scene of her two wives, she really did get so lucky to have them.

Nayeon comes over before they finish dinner. Sana gets up to greet her, a blanket still wrapped around her as Nayeon comes in. “Hi Sana.” Nayeon giggled at Sana’s appearance. She had Kookeu with her on a leash, having walked him from her house over to theirs. “You look tired. Rough night?” Nayeon winked at her and Sana smiled. “You know it.” Sana played along. “Was your appointment today?” Nayeon let Kookeu off of his leash, the small dog running over to Sana’s leg and sniffing it. Sana smiled and bent down to pick the little furball up. “Yeah.” Sana yawned, using her free hand to pet Kookeu behind the ears. “How did it go?” “They always go the same Nayeon.” Sana answered, her smile slowly fading. She didn’t like talking about this much, but she knew she couldn’t hide from Nayeon. Nayeon had known her since she was eighteen, and now that she was nearing forty they had been through just about everything together. Sure, Nayeon was closer to her wife, but it didn’t mean she didn’t do everything for Sana too. “I know, but you know it can take a while for this stuff to work. We were at this for three years before we had Kazumi.” Nayeon gave Sana a reassuring smile. “It will work out.” “I don’t know… I’m older now. The chances just keep getting smaller and smaller.” Sana let Kookeu down when the dog started squirming. “Trust me, just keep with it. I almost gave up before we had Kazumi. But things worked out then and I think they will now.” Sana immediately noticed something was off about Nayeon. Of course her words were nice, but the bags under her eyes and the forced smile were starting to show through the longer she was in their house. “Thank you… But Nayeon, what’s wrong?” Sana didn’t like dancing around subjects. “I-” Nayeon sighed. “Momo and I fought again.” Sana thought it was strange Momo didn’t contact her about that. Usually when they fought Nayeon would run to Jihyo and Momo would run to Sana and Mina. Sana had known Momo since she was born, she never kept anything from her. Momo was as close to a sister as Sana had ever gotten, and the two had never kept anything from each other. “Again?” Sana asked. “This happened recently?” All couples fought. Sana, Jihyo, and Mina fought. Nayeon and Momo fought. It was normal. But Sana hadn’t heard about the two of them fighting recently. “I- I’ll tell you over dinner.” Nayeon sighed, rubbing one eye. “Who invited you to dinner?” Sana teased. “I could just take Kookeu and make you go home.” “You wouldn’t.” Nayeon rolled her eyes. Both knew she was right. Nayeon and Momo had been coming over for so long, for as long as they had been together. And Sana was fine with that. She loved having the two of them over.“Are your wives in the kitchen?” “Yeah.” Sana nodded. “Dinner should almost be ready.”

“Did Mina cook?” When Sana nodded Nayeon let out a small thank god before going off towards the living room. Sana trailed behind her, smiling when she saw her wives. “Woah.” Was the first thing Jihyo said to Nayeon. “You saw me this morning.” Nayeon rolled her eyes.

“I thought that was just grumpy morning Nayeon. This is not what I was expecting.” Nayeon had always been good at pretending she was okay. Especially over the phone. She had done it countless times and it always frustrated Jihyo to no end. She wished Nayeon could just tell her when she was upset. “We left the dog stuff on the table. Is it okay I put Kookeu outside?” Mina asked.

“Is the gate closed?” Mina nodded in response. The table had already been set, and Mina had just wordlessly added an extra plate for Nayeon. They had been here a million times, and Mina guessed they would be here a million more. Not that Mina minded. She liked helping their friends. “Then it should be fine. He’s been restless all day and I think he’s a little mad. All the kids' attention was on the new dog and not him.” “I would be mad if I was him.” Sana giggled. “He’s always loved attention.”

“Yes well I’ve always loved giving it to him.” Nayeon eyed the glass door to their backyard. Kookeu was running around with a chew toy he had left the last time he had been over to their house. “Thank you for dinner.” “Im Nayeon? Thanking me? There must be something wrong.” Nayeon nearly elbowed Jihyo but held back. “I fought with Momo.” Nayeon started, her fingers pausing as she looked over the food. It looked good, it always did. Mina had always been such a good chef. “You two fight all the time.” Jihyo rolled her eyes. “No. We fought for real.” Nayeon sighed. “We have been talking about maybe adopting again but we can’t really agree on it. Last night everything just kind of exploded. We said so many bad things- I said so many bad things. I know Momo is just being realistic and is looking out for us but I feel like she isn’t listening to me. haneul heard us, we thought she was asleep, but she heard us. And I guess- I guess we set her off. We try not to argue in front of her and Jae- well Kazumi too but you get it. I spent almost the entire night calming her down and this morning Momo wouldn’t even look at me.” All three of them had to take a second to think about everything Nayeon had just told them. haneul had always hated yelling. Jae was better, but Haneul had always struggled with yelling. Even now, years since they had adopted them she hated it. “When she came home today she was ignoring me. I know she was probably angry about the dog too, but Kazumi… She was so insistent on us keeping Boo. She can be so stubborn sometimes. Momo was just so mad at me. I needed an excuse to leave.” “You know… I think Momo is just afraid.” Surprisingly enough Mina was the first to voice it. Nayeon would have expected that forward of a comment from Jihyo or Sana, but never from Mina. “Haneul and Jae, and honestly Kazumi too, have all been through a lot. Kazumi less so than the twins… But you know losing Momo’s mother was hard on her. It was hard on Momo too. I think she’s just afraid that if you guys adopt again it will be difficult for them. I know you think they will probably be fine because they are older, but think about last night. Haneul had a panic attack because of yelling, what if you guys adopt a kid and they accidentally set her off? Jae and Kazumi know not to do anything like that because they grew up with Haneul, but I think Momo is afraid that introducing a new person into that equation might be stressful for Haneul. And there’s also the feat they may think you guys are trying to replace them.” “Mina is right Nayeonie. Adoption is so incredibly complicated. Yes it’s worth it, but there’s also so much that goes into it. Momo has always been afraid of change. And I know it’s partially my fault, but it’s how she is.” Sana spoke up after her wife, taking one of Mina’s hands and squeezing it.

“You should give Momo a bit of space. Let her speak. You really didn’t help things by bringing a random dog home.” Jihyo joked, poking Nayeon’s side. “Look, we are happy to let you stay here for a night or two, just to give Momo some space to think. Give you some space to cool down. You probably haven’t taken some time to yourself since this all happened. I think it’s for the best you do.” Jihyo mentioned taking one of Nayeon’s hands similar to the way her wives were holding hands. “Thank you… Momo didn’t want me to talk to you guys about any of this. She said you guys had too much stress and I shouldn’t bother you… That woman always has this habit of bottling things up at the worst times.” Nayeon sighed. “But she does have a point, I know you guys are going through a rough time.” “I wouldn’t say it’s rough.” Sana spoke up. “It’s just tiring. But we aren’t too stressed, at least I don’t think we are right?” She looked at Mina and Jihyo with such wide eyes both of their hearts ached. Having a baby had been so difficult on all three of them, but they had tried to stay calm for so long. All three knew internally they were going to reach a breaking point soon, none of them were just ready to admit it yet. “Right.” All three of them hated lying, but they didn’t know what else they were supposed to say.

“Momo?” Sana had been surprised when Momo had called her. Jihyo had texted her saying they were going to keep Nayeon for the night according to her Momo had just texted back a thumbs up emoji. Sana knew Momo would want to talk to her eventually, but knowing her she expected that to be tomorrow. Momo had a nasty habit of stopping by Sana’s office at work. Momo didn’t usually have too much to do during the day, as her studio only had a few classes during the early part of the day. Sometimes she would come to Sana’a office under the guise that Nayeon had kicked her out of hers and she was bored. Others she would come to complain about Nayeon. Sana never really minded, most of her students were absolutely terrible about coming to office hours and she was bored sitting there by herself grading. It was nice to have someone to talk to sometimes, and god knows how many times she had showed up at Momo’s studio to complain about something Mina or Jihyo did. “Aunt Sana?” “Kazumi?” Sana asked, a bit confused. “Why are you calling me?” “Because my moms don’t think I’m ready for a phone. Can you put my mom on? I want to talk to her.” “Sure.” Sana sighed and stood up from the table. She was still exhausted from earlier and really was ready to sleep, but she had to finish her grading today. Mina and Jihyo were also grading various students' work, all three of them slumped over their living room table with mountains of work to grade. They had been there hundreds of times, and Sana wouldn’t say she hated it. It was just, kind of boring. Nayeon was in the other room, watching a drama on her laptop. Sana sometimes cursed the fact the mechanical engineering department had so many TAs willing to grade. The physics department had TAs too, but there really weren’t that many compared to the mechanical engineering department. The mechanical engineering department was much more competitive though, and had a lot more students, so there were more of them that wanted to be TAs. Sana got her attention and handed her phone to her immediately. “Hm?” Nayeon asked.

“Your daughter wants to talk to you.” Sana was a bit confused as to why Kazumi had called her instead of just calling Nayeon. She knew Nayeon could be bad about charging her phone sometimes, so the thought crossed her mind that Nayeon’s phone could just be dead. Sana decided to give them some privacy as she went back to the grading table. “Who was it?” Jihyo hummed and wrapped her right arm around Sana, holding a pen in her left.

“Kazumi. She wanted to talk to Nayeon about something.” Sana answered. “I’m guessing she’s just a little stressed Nayeon is gone. ”

“She has always been pretty clingy. When she was little, babysitting her could be difficult if it was overnight.” Mina hummed. “It was always weird to me because Haneul and Jae seemed fine, but Kazumi would always throw little fits until we called one of them and they calmed her down.”

“Some kids are just like that. She’s growing out of it. Slowly. I’m sure tonight it was scary for her because Nayeon was there earlier and never came back. ” Jihyo remarked. “Hey… Do you think our child will be clingy?” There was a heavy silence that came over them when Jihyo said that. They tried not to talk about it too much, what their child would be like. They had a lot in the beginning of the process, but now years later they knew that would give all of them false hope. This entire situation was a careful balance of being hopeful and realistic. “Knowing Sana, yes.” Mina was the first to speak up, a teasing smile on her face. She was doing her best to lighten the atmosphere, she didn’t want to get into this right now. Not with Nayeon here. “Hey.” Sana whined. “I wasn’t that clingy when I was little.” “So it started when you were older? Or did it start when you met us?” Jihyo tried to be as careful about the topic as possible. Sana hated talking about the past before she met the two of them. She hadn’t known Sana for as long as Mina did, and to be honest even now she felt like she didn’t know as much about Sana’s past as Mina did. Mina had met Sana in high school, and Jihyo didn’t meet either of them until college. Mina had been there at one of the lowest points in Sana’s life, and Jihyo didn’t meet her until later.

“She really wasn’t this clingy in high school.” Mina commented. “Well when we were asleep she would always try to cuddle up to me or Momo, but other than that she really wasn’t clingy.” Mina eyed Sana with baited breath. Sana didn’t like it when they talked about high school too much, but she seemed fine, still looking over papers. She was wearing her glasses (thankfully, Mina had argued with Sana so many times to just wear them), her attention on the paper in front of her. Sana’s face when she was concentrating was always so adorable. “It really all started when we started dating.”

“Cute.” Jihyo giggled, knowing they had completely lost Sana’s attention to the paper in front of her. Nayeon comes back into the living room later, giving Sana her phone back and tears on her face.

“What did Kazumi say?” Jihyo asked. She had finished grading, and was now waiting for her wives to finish so they could get on with their night. “She asked me if we were getting a divorce.” Nayeon sighed, slumping down on the couch. “She said she’s not little anymore so I shouldn’t lie to her. And that she’s seen how we haven’t been as affectionate lately and how much we’ve been fighting. And then Jae took the phone from her when she started crying.”

“That’s a difficult subject when you're twelve.” Jihyo nodded, getting off the floor to slump onto the couch with Nayeon. “Do you want to get divorced?” “God no- no. Not over this. We can work it out. Kazumi is just overthinking.” Nayeon sighed. “Is she?” Jihyo asked, looking into Nayeon’s eyes. “I-yeah. She’s always had a bit of separation anxiety. Momo says she’s growing out of it- but I’m still worried. I’ve been talking to the twins therapist about her, and she thinks it might be good for her to start seeing her if she starts to get any worse.” Nayeon commented, seeing Sana and Mina still working. “It’s nothing to be worried about. I promise.” “Okay.” Jihyo nodded, opening her arms for Nayeon. Nayeon accepted them and relaxed in her embrace, letting her oldest friend hold her while she thought about what to do next.

Nayeon and Momo work things out (like they always do) not two days later. Jihyo had always admired the two of them for that. Even if the fight seemed to be really bad, both were good about talking about how they were feeling and what they needed to do to resolve the issue. From what Jihyo understood, they were going to wait a few years before trying their hand at fostering for a little while. It seemed like a good compromise. Nayeon had always loved children and just wanted to help all of the ones she could, Jihyo had always understood tht and she honestly thought it was so sweet her friend was so excited to help kids out.

In terms of their own relationship, things were only getting worse. It started with little comments here and there about how if it had worked Sana would start feeling symptoms by now since it had been almost two months since and that they needed to book the next appointment. Sana didn’t seem too jazzed about that. And when she expressed that, they had erupted in a huge argument. They hadn’t yelled at each other like that in years, and honestly Jihyo thinks it might have been the worst argument they had ever had.

“You're giving up? After all this time- all this money we’ve put into this- your just going to give up?!” Mina was by far the most upset, which was triggering both of them.

“I can’t keep doing this Mina! We’re just- we keep pretending we’re fine but we all know that we aren’t!” Sana responded. Her hands were clenched and tears were brimming at the edge of her vision.

“Stop! Just- stop it. Yelling isn’t going to solve this.” Jihyo could feel a headache coming on. “But you agree with me right?” Mina asked, teary eyes as she looked at Jihyo. Jihyo knew Mina had been the most hurt by this entire process. First she was told she was infertile and then it wasn’t working with Sana- she had a lot to be stressed about. “We’ve invested so much in this- we can’t just give up!” “I can’t do this anymore Mina! It hurts me so much to see a negative test- to have a period! To see how sad it makes both of you! I can’t keep failing you both! I can’t-I can’t-” Jihyo could tell Sana had reached her breaking point. Honestly they all saw this coming, but it was still difficult to watch.

“Breathe Sana,” Jihyo tried to take one of her hands but Sana shrugged her off. “Don’t touch me!” Everything was silent after that. Mina grabbed her coat and left, but both of them knew where she was going. Mina was going to cool off at Jeongyeon and Dahyun’s house while Sana and Jihyo tried to not scream at each other anymore. Sana was in the corner of their bedroom, curled into a tiny ball and shaking. Jihyo knew this pose, this was Sana trying to calm herself down. Sometimes Jihyo forgot Sana had grown up in an abusive household, but times like this served as a painful reminder that her wife had been through so much when she was young. Jihyo watched her carefully as Sana’s breathing evened out and she pulled a blanket around herself

“Sana?” Sana ignored her. “Hey baby, can I touch you?” Sana spared her a look at that, slowly nodding. When Mina was like this, she didn’t like being touched. Jihyo had gotten used to waiting to touch Mina until the younger one intatied. But Sana wasn’t like that. She liked being touched when she was like this. Jihyo wrapped her arms around Sana and held her close, smelling the shampoo she had always loved. She knew what it was now, her and Sana had been sharing a shower for almost ten years now she was familiar with her wife’s shampoo brand, but it had always smelled so good to her. “M’ sorry.” Sana muttered after a while. “No-no sweetie I’m sorry.” Jihyo sighed. “I wasn’t thinking about how stressful this all must have been on you.” “Why hasn’t it ever worked?” Jihyo’s heart was breaking at Sana’s tiny voice. She felt her shoulder getting wet from where Sana’s face was buried in it, but she didn’t mind. “I don’t know… No one said this was easy.” Jihyo muttered, tucking Sana’s hair behind her ear. She went back to their screaming match from earlier, thinking of everything Sana had said. “You know this isn’t your fault right?” Sana stayed quiet at that. “Sana… This isn’t your fault. You are not a failure. You have absolutely no control whether or not this works.” “But- I- it feels like my fault. You guys want a baby so bad- I want a baby so bad but I can’t- I can’t do it and that’s frustrating.” Sana muttered. “I know it is sweetheart. It is. But it’s not your fault. You are doing so good. I’m so proud of how hard you have worked so far, but if you are done… Let’s be done.” Jihyo whispered. “We can take some time away. Maybe reconsider adopting. But I think we should take a little break before we do that. How does that sound to you?” Sana nodded at that, cuddling closer to Jihyo. Jihyo had always been the rock in their relationship. Of the three of them, she was able to keep her emotions in check the most. She never really had outbursts, and she was able to keep her composure in situations like their fight. “Good.” Jihyo kissed the top of her head. “We can talk to Mina about this tomorrow. You know how she is- she was just really invested in this. But she will be okay, she wants us to be happy more than anything.” “Mina won’t leave us?” If Jihyo’s heart wasn’t broken before it was now. Sana had healed a lot from when Jihyo first met her, but there were still times where her old insecurities would bubble back to the surface. “No.” Jihyo nodded. “Mina won’t leave us.” She hoped to god that was true, but she knew Mina. Mina wouldn’t leave them over something like that. Sana looked ready to fall asleep against her shoulder, but suddenly she was pulling away and jumping out of bed. Jihyo was spooked by the sudden movement, following Sana with a rapid heartbeat as her wife ran to the bathroom.

It wasn’t much later that Sana threw up. Not just once, multiple times. Tears rushed down her cheeks as Jihyo held her hair back and rubbed her back. Jihyo thought this was probably just a side effect from earlier, but she couldn’t stop the thoughts about how Sana had never thrown up from her panic attacks before, and the other implications to sudden sickness like that. And she wasn’t the only one thinking about that.

Mina didn’t come home the next morning. Jihyo knew she needed more time to think and sort through her emotions, but she was still worried. She texted Jeongyeon and Dahyun, and they said they were taking good care of Mina and that she was eating and safe. Jihyo was relieved at that, because honestly that was better than Sana.

Sana threw up again the next morning, and after she had refused to eat breakfast. By lunch, Sana was understandably starving and ate more than Jihyo had seen her eat in a while. She was happy about that, but that food had just caused Sana to throw up again. They had monitored her for signs of a fever, but it seemed she didn’t have one.

Sana made Jihyo go to work that afternoon. Both had taken the morning off, but Jihyo had been expected to work in the afternoon unlike Sana. Sana had practically forced her to go, promising to eat more and that she would be fine by herself. It didn’t stop Jihyo from obsessively texting her before her class started. Sana liked the time away from Jihyo. She knew her body better than anyone else, she knew something was wrong. And she knew it was one of two things either one she was coming down with a stomach bug for the first time in ten years or she was pregnant. Honestly even if the latter made more sense, they couldn’t help but think the former was the one that was true. She knew it was the less likely option logically, but she just couldn’t get her hopes again. Especially since it had all been so sudden. Sure she had felt a bit nauseous a couple times in the past few weeks but she had never had anything like that. It just seemed so sudden. They had a stash of pregnancy tests under their sink. Because they had been through this so many times before, and it had never worked, not even once. Sana didn’t know why she was even doing this. It never worked. But she pushed herself to do it anyway. Sure she felt a bit off, but she had also been through a lot lately. Plus her period had never been regular. That didn’t mean she was pregnant. It couldn’t have worked now. There was no way. When Jihyo got home, she found Sana on the couch crying. When she asked why, she said they would need to wait until Mina got home for her to tell her why.

Mina comes home after dinner. Jihyo could tell she was trying to be careful around both of them, but can tell she’s calmed down. They all know they need to talk, but they spend most of the night dancing around the subject with small pleasantries until Sana practically forces them to talk. “I’m sorry.” Mina sighed. “I was just frustrated, I should have listened sooner. If you want to give up for now, it might be for the best.”

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled.” Sana mentioned, her finger twirling together that way they always did when she was nervous. Jihyo knew Sana was keeping something from them, she just couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was. “I’m sorry to both of you. Screaming was not the correct response.” Jihyo sighed. “I think taking some time away might be for the best. We can think and come up with a plan for maybe looking into adoption.” “That sounds like a good idea. This has been bothering all of us for a while. As scary as it sounds time away might be for the best.” Mina agreed, noticing how fidgety Sana was being. “What is it?” “I agree we shouldn’t do the procedure again… But I don’t think we should look into adoption.” Sana confused them both with that. Sana had talked to both of them in the past about how if the biological thing didn’t work she was open to adoption, so the change felt both sudden and unexpected. “What do you mean?”

“Adoption is great and all, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to be looking into it right now.” Sana looked at both of them before taking each of their hands. “Because I’m pregnant.”

Mina and Jihyo had both never been more shocked. “I-Is this a joke as a punishment for yesterday or-”

“No.” Sana stopped Mina’s rambling. “I’m actually pregnant.” Jihyo didn’t say anything, just tackled Sana in a hug and rained kisses on her cheeks. “I love you so much.” Jihyo whispered. “Me too.” Mina couldn’t stop sobbing as she joined the hug. “I love you both so much too.” Sana had never been happier than that moment, except maybe on their wedding day, but honestly, Sana didn’t think that counted. This was her happiest moment.

#twice #minatozaki sana #myoui mina #park jihyo #namo #im nayeon #hirai momo #this is basically a fic chapter oops #misahyo #misahyo au

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years ago

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 18 -Chemistry

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what will they do?, 2.5k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

“Two, three, four!” Alex counted off and the band sprung into action inside the studio. The one good thing about the drums was that it made him hyper aware of every limb on his body. There was no room for distractions or intrusive thoughts when he was keeping time. It was almost like the euphoria of being dizzy, only without the dizziness. He could be okay in this state for a little while - just long enough to reset his mind and declutter itself.

As they finished their take, they heard a familiar voice from the sound booth.

“Sounds incredible boys!”

Caleb. There went the whole ‘reset and declutter’ thing he had going.

Each of the guys looked around at each other, knowing they would have to do their best to pretend they didn’t know anything. This was the first time they were seeing him since Alex had given the news to the rest of the band. None of them had actually discussed what they would do the next time Caleb happened to stop in. Setting down their instruments and slowly filing into the sound booth, they all greeted Caleb, trying to appear happy to see him.

“Let’s hear that playback, shall we?” he said as they all sat together. He pressed a few knobs on his soundboard and they all listened closely to their own song. It was just gonna be another session with notes on where they could dub vocals here and there or duplicate tracks to fill things out - it had to be normal, Alex prayed.

“And let’s stop here for a minute,” Caleb was saying after getting into a couple minutes of the track. “Reggie. What happened to the bassline?” Reggie sat up, blinking at being called out. “That’s not what was on your demo; why did you change it?”

Reggie’s face had already fallen as he made flustered attempts to respond.

“I-I...I just liked that line better...I think it fits the style and the direction of the song,” he stammered, shoulders slumped, avoiding eye contact. His hands came together in his usual fidget - the one he did when he got yelled at. Alex saw Bobby’s hand curl into a fist.

“Alright, alright, trust me,” Caleb placated. “I understand, probably more than any of you, why improvising a part feels so good. I wouldn’t host a jazz club if I didn’t get that. But here the difference is that no one knows your songs yet, boys.”

“We’ve had faithful fans for years,” Luke interrupted.

Caleb cut him off with a mere look. Shutting his mouth, Luke scratched the back of his head nervously. After taking a breath, Caleb simply let out a sigh.

“Boys.” His tone was really drawing on the charisma, Alex noticed. “My job in helping you reach the stardom that you all one hundred percent deserve is to help you create a footprint on the walk of fame. A footprint means as beginners we can’t mess with the core elements that make your brand. These songs need to stay consistent until we have thousands of fans singing back to you in the audience the very lines you wrote in your humble garage. They need to know the first few seconds of that drumbeat and recall who you are on the radio. They are going to learn those basslines and those chords and add them to their own repertoire while they aspire to be legends like you! Don’t you see how important that is? I know. Playing around is fun; experimenting with new ideas and sounds is the whole reason we’re here. But from now on, I want you boys to stay in one lane, and I will match your speed.”

Eyeing each other warily, they all awkwardly murmured and nodded to agree with him. None of his words had been all that comforting. Alex was stuck thinking about how Caleb had made an appeal to every single one of them and somehow been right on the nose. It was like he could read their minds and it felt rather invasive.

“We’ll remember that,” Alex told him. He knew the other three were battling with their fight or flight responses and it would be suspicious.

“Oh, good,” Caleb replied. “I can see we’re having an off day, but maybe Alex can get the rest of you on board. Let’s run that song again.”

Exchanging glances, the guys stood up and headed back into the recording booth.

“Man, chemistry sucks,” Bobby complained from his seat in the armchair in his garage. Books were spread out around him, as well as about a dozen crumpled up pieces of notebook paper. “Reggie would get this.”

Alex looked up from the history homework he’d been focused on. He was gaining such an ear for whenever Reggie or Bobby mentioned one another and it made him laugh inwardly. For now, though, he had to hide the smirk.

“Well, I would call him, but he’s taking care of his sister tonight.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t want to bother him anyways.”

This was one of the rare occasions where it was just Alex and Bobby together. Usually at least Luke would be around, but he was out on some date with Julie and there was no telling when he was expected back. Bobby had been helping Alex with history for a little bit but about half an hour ago remembered his own homework in a panic. Now they were both having trouble focusing. Their time in the studio that morning was clearly still on both of their minds.

“Hey, did Reggie tell you we were playing for his cousin’s wedding?” Alex asked in a non sequitur fashion.

“What?” Bobby said, finally sitting up and tearing his eyes off the diagram he was making. “No, he didn’t. Since when was that happening?”

“I’ve known for a couple weeks,” Alex told him casually.

“Oh.” Bobby looked down at the floor. “Any reason you haven’t mentioned it until now?”

Alex shifted in his seat on the couch at the suspicion in Bobby’s voice, but tried to play it off with a shrug.

“I just forgot. We’ve had a lot going on since he mentioned it to me.”

It did the trick. Still, Bobby sat in thought for a while, playing with his tongue inside his mouth absent-mindedly. Alex physically bit his own tongue to keep himself from asking what was on Bobby’s mind and pretended to turn his attention back to his history work. There was a long, static pause.

“Reggie’s been really weird lately,” Bobby said.

“Is that so?” Alex didn’t look up this time.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s always been goofy and everything, but I mean, he’s been unusual even for him. You know what I mean?”

“I guess I haven’t been paying as close of attention.” Alex flipped a page in his text book. “But I’ll take your word. Are you worried about him?”

Furrowing his brow, Bobby frowned in thought.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I mean, I always worry about him, you know, cuz of everything he deals with at home. But I don’t know...this is different.”

“Is it because of what Caleb said today?”

“I didn’t like that either, but no, that’s not it.”

He looked so serious that Alex couldn’t find it funny anymore. Actually, Bobby seemed so distressed by it that it was making Alex distressed.

“Hey,” he said with concern. “Why do you look so bummed about it?”

He received a glance as though a great weight sat upon Bobby’s shoulders. It was so familiar it shot him in the chest. His friend looked so lost and uncertain, so afraid to speak his mind. And Alex thought Reggie had been conflicted. It was a little worrying.

“I think you actually know what's going on, huh?” Bobby said in resignation.

Nope. Now it was just frustrating. Alex sat up and looked at Bobby directly.

“Okay, I know expressing yourself isn’t your strong suit, Bobby, but please say it out loud. You can do it. Especially with me.”

His friend’s eyebrows knit together even further, trying to convince himself to get it off his chest. A minute passed, and finally he shut his chemistry book, set it aside, and faced Alex.

“I have feelings for Reggie.”

Thank god.

“Good job! You’re officially the last to know!”

Bobby’s face fell into a confused expression.

“What?”

Alex merely shrugged. They were so helpless, but luckily he was better at trying to solve others’ problems than his own.

“I had to let you come to your own conclusion. It was exhausting; you took forever.”

Bobby folded his hands and fidgeted with his thumbs.

“How long have you noticed?”

“Technically? Since before playing at the Pearl. But that’s when it really started to be obvious.”

Smirking, Bobby just bowed and shook his head.

“You know,” he began. “When I was first getting to know you, I didn’t trust you. Luke and I were already so close, and he introduced me to you and Reggie and you two already were such good friends. For a while I couldn’t figure out when you were being sarcastic or serious and I didn’t want to admit I was too sensitive. Reggie helped me figure out the difference and I just sort of dropped anything I was upset about.”

Alex listened carefully, nodding at his words.

“And now you’ve started getting all personal because you know I’m the most trustworthy one here, right?” he half-teased.

Nodding, Bobby smiled a little.

“I guess this is the part where you tell me to get my crap together and tell Reggie?”

“Yep,” Alex said. “But go at your own pace. The last thing I want is you two making things even weirder than they already are by trying to discuss things when you’re not prepared. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great, but don’t forget the rest of the band in the process.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bobby pondered. “You have a point. Speaking of weird business, I’m still not cool about us pretending to go along with making the album while knowing what we do about Caleb.”

“Me neither, but I think Luke was right. We’re just being careful.”

“Since when is Sunset Curve careful, though? We would just set up and play wherever we could until we got chased off the property, and then we’d just find a new location the next night.”

“The difference is we were nobody fifteen year olds who didn’t have contracts signed. You said it yourself, we could risk losing the rights to our own music if we break things off.”

“We read the contracts, though, right?” Bobby insisted. “I made sure we did. I don’t remember anything that seemed too controlling in them.”

“Would we have known what to look for?” Alex responded.

Sighing heavily and flopping back into his chair, Bobby stared up into the ceiling. It felt like no good answer could be given. Alex was frustrated too, but he remembered what Tía Victoria had told him as well. He believed Willie, of course, especially since Victoria hadn’t actually seen or spoken to him. She hadn’t been able to get a sniff of Caleb’s true nature, and she was a professional investigator. If Caleb could fool her that easily, he’d tied their hands while they willingly held them out.

“Bobby,” Alex started. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we should stop laying ourselves on the ground and letting him walk all over us. None of this ‘establish the brand’ B.S.”

Straightening his posture, Alex sat up and folded his hands. That was exactly what he wanted to do, too. Even if he didn’t know anything else about Caleb, the way he’d gone after Reggie had left a sour enough taste in his mouth. Before he could say anything else to Bobby, Luke stepped into the garage.

“Guys, I was thinking - ” he started.

“You wanna go after Caleb too?” Bobby said.

“Whoa, how did you know?” he sat back in surprise.

“Bobby and I were just talking about it,” Alex told him. Luke raised his eyebrows as he flopped onto the couch beside Alex.

“Were you guys mad when he singled out Reggie, too?”

“Yes!”

“Nobody shames Reggie like that!”

“Bobby, you should go cheer him up,” Luke suggested. “We all know you’re in love with him.”

“Oh my god!” Bobby cried, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation. Immediately he stood up and gathered all his books. “Just for that, I’m turning in you guys. Have a nice night, Alex. Luke, I hope it’s cold.” He stormed out of the garage and into his house while Luke and Alex simply laughed together.

“I, uh… I already gave him a speech about it,” Alex told Luke, smirking.

“Thank you!” Luke cried. “I know they tease me about being dense but at least I go for what I want! And so do you!”

Smiling at the acknowledgement of him and Willie, Alex slowly started packing up his homework. He could finish it tomorrow night.

“By the way, how was hanging out with Julie?” he asked.

Placing his arms behind his head, Luke got that dreamy far-off look on his face. The ‘Julie on the mind’ look. He smiled like he’d seen an angel and the angel had smiled back in kind.

“Oh, she’s awesome. She’s way better at roller skating than me. I wish there were two of me just so one of us could hold her hand while skating with her and the other could sit down and watch.”

Alex made a face at the odd visual, but he understood what Luke was talking about. He wondered what he and Willie looked like from an outside perspective. Did they look as happy as he felt? Did Willie bring out something in him that he’d never seen in the mirror? Or even something the rest of the guys didn’t know yet? That was something he really wanted to discuss with Willie now.

“I can’t wait until her mom gets out of the hospital,” Luke was saying. “I want to learn everything she can teach me. She told me she took two years just working on the production of an album for her band. Imagine what we could do with our songs if we had her in the studio instead of Caleb.”

“Wow,” Alex commented. “At this point, I really wish we were working with the Molinas. At least they seem to get us.”

Luke looked at him and Alex knew he’d heard all the underlying meaning in that sentence. All the guys had been accepted by Julie’s family in a way none of their own seemed capable of. Alex almost wished he hadn’t said it out loud because it only tempted him to forget about heading home.

“Maybe one day, we will, Alex,” Luke said, giving him an encouraging smile.

He chuckled as he shouldered his backpack and headed out the door.

“Yeah. That’d be sweet.”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #sunset curve #alive au #willex #willie #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #caleb covington #viva las vegas #vlv #chemistry #fiddlepickdouglas

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.11 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch finally has Edge's address, but as always seems to happen in this town, answering one question only makes two more spring up to take its place.

Read ‘Unconventional Wisdom’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The dog spent all morning napping behind the counter, not rising for broom bristles nudging him nor Stretch stepping over him awkwardly so he could grab a few boxes from the top shelf to fill up the front racks. He did snore loud enough to be heard over the radio, but eh, so did Red so Stretch was used to it.

It wasn’t until the jangling cowbell over the door heralded the arrival of a group of kids that the pup gave up on his snoring and wandering out to inspect the new arrivals, tail already happily wagging. Predictably, the kiddos were enamored of their newest employee, although guard dog might be overstating things a bit. Okay, maybe a lot; it looked like Red hadn’t been able to get back to sleep last night because the once-filthy dog with a mess of tangled fur was now freshly washed and brushed, and he smelled a lot like the shower gel from Red’s bathroom. Cleaned up, he was a handsome dog, looking as fluffy as an enormous toasted marshmallow. Not exactly threatening, fluffykins here was probably gonna spend most of his shift on moral support duty.

The little girl who was currently the main recipient of the dog’s enthusiastic face licking giggled and asked, “What’s his name?”

“uh.” That gave Stretch a pause. He shrugged. “doesn’t have a name yet, i’ll have to ask red what he thinks.”

“Should name him Rover,” one boy put in helpfully.

Another boy chimed in, “Or Bingo!”

“Cheeseburger!” A little gal firmly declared as though no other name would do and Stretch couldn’t help laughing.

“is that a name suggestion or a lunch request?” he teased. All the kids giggled, including the one who’d suggested the name and Stretch gave one of her pigtails a gentle tug. “tell you what, here.” He pulled out a pad of paper from under the counter, flipped past the pages filled with inventory lists and cribbage scores to a blank one and wrote carefully at the top, ‘Name Our Dog’. He set it in one corner of the counter triumphantly, “there! now anyone can suggest a name and red can choose the best one.”

All the kids seemed in agreement that this was the best course of action, each taking a turn to scribble their suggestion on the sheet. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if ‘Cheeseburger’ was at the top of Red’s picks.

The kids eventually abandoned the dog and started a round of intense negotiations over what penny treats to buy today. Stretch left them to it, settling to sit on the stool to wait for them to bring up their selections to the register. His mind wandered idly back to newest side quest: getting to 637 Wood’s End Drive.

He’d already tried to look the address up on his phone’s GPS and wasn’t too surprised to see that it didn’t come up, naw, that would be too easy. So, first was figuring out how to get there and second would be figuring out how to get there. Not like he had a car and somehow, he doubted that Backwater had a thriving Uber economy. Maybe he could hitch a lift with someone? People were always coming into town in those big ol’ pickup trucks and the folks around here were pretty friendly, plus Edge seemed to be pretty well known. They all probably knew exactly where Edge lived and stopped by for pie and tea all the time. Surely someone would be delighted to help out, particularly if they were one of the lookie-loos from Mama’s who wanted to see Stretch and Edge on another man date, thank-you-but-no-thank-you.

That would probably be the easiest way to go about it, but Stretch found he was strangely reluctant to take that route. It felt a little like cheating, considering the roundabout way Edge went about handed out his address.

Anyway, if he’d wanted to go down that path, he could’ve simply asked Red days ago, but that right there was an entirely different can of worms that he didn’t want to share with any of the early birds. Red never forbade him from hanging out with Edge, but he’d been pretty clear time and again that he wasn’t too keen on it, either. Might be best if he kept any mentions of Edge to a minimum unless Red brought him up first.

He’d just figure it out himself, thanks, and he wasn’t any puzzle master, not like his bro was, but he had a little pride buried around here somewhere. Edge set him a challenge, damn it, and he was gonna see it through.

His absent gaze strayed down to the pile of bicycles outside the store, kid-sized, sure, but hey, wait a second—

“hey, guys,” Stretch said slowly, and the debate on whether to get two packs of everlasting gobstoppers or three paused as a half-dozen heads perked up like prairie dogs from a sugary plain. “if i wanted to buy a bicycle around here, where would i go?”

Heads ducked down again in a hastily whispered conversation, then the spokeskid popped up again and said, decisively, “Try over at the thrift shop. Miss Maggie always has old bikes for sale.”

“thanks.” He should’ve known. The only other option right in town was the tractor supply shop and while driving up on a John Deere would make a hell of an impression, it was probably well out of his price range. The kids crowded over with their handfuls of spoils and Stretch dutifully rang them up and if he tossed in a dime of his own to cover them, eh, wasn’t like they’d ever know. He handed over a paper sack of treats to a chorus of thank yous and the divvying began before the kiddos even got out of the shop.

“Oh, Edgar Allen said to tell you hi!” One little girl called back to him. She was gone out of the door before he could even think of a reply, all of them clamoring onto their bikes, their faces chipmunk-cheeked with their spoils.

Edgar Allen, shit, yeah, that was right. He’d pretty much been the first stop on this questline and Stretch’d been meaning to do something for him. He’d already rethought the magazine idea; what if it turned out that scarecrows couldn’t read, kinda insensitive there. He’d have to think of something, though, owing someone didn’t sit well with him even if that person didn’t qualify for traditionally alive.

In the meantime, the dog, bereft of childish companionship, wandered back behind the counter and flopped down with a huff, sighing deeply.

“yeah, go on and take a break,” Stretch told him, “you were working pretty hard there.” He stretched out a leg to pet the dog carefully with his foot and wasn’t too surprised that it didn’t care one bit about his shoe, only pliantly rolled over to give him better access to the belly region.

Stretch obediently kept petting, hell, he obeyed better than the dog. But his thoughts were still on the upcoming journey to 637 Wood’s End Drive.

~~*~~

Red relieved him in the shop a little later than normal, looking a lot like he’d just hauled ass out of bed. His shirt was the same one as earlier, only with a fresh crop of wrinkles and his eye lights were still bleary with exhaustion.

Almost, Stretch offered to stay later and let Red get a little more sleep, considering it was his fault Red got woken up in the middle of night. But the baleful glare Red sent his way was an unspoken warning that such an offer probably wasn’t gonna go over well. He kept his jaw shut tight and took the paper sandwich bag Red handed over before heading out the door. Time to get this side quest rolling, literally, he hoped.

The few times he’d met Magdalen May he’d figured right from the get-go that she, like Red, was a partaker of the Sheriff’s son’s prize cannabis crop. Not only because of her dreamy demeanor but also whenever she came into the store, she was surrounded by an almost visible cloud of pot stank so strong that Stretch got a contact buzz while she was shopping through the meagre selection of yarn that Red kept. By the time she left, Stretch would have a craving for Cheetos so strong he’d be ready to start gnawing on his fingerbones for a cronch.

Stepping into the thrift shop was a little like hot boxing in a hoarder’s closet but Stretch soldiered on, squinting as his vision adjusted from the bright light of day to a dimness barely above attic-levels. He went past shelves of gewgaws and boxes of dusty records, old clothes hanging from racks that looked like they’d been commandeered from a lot of remaindered furniture. There were tables piled high with ancient radios, cameras, electronics that Stretch didn’t know the name of and surely didn’t work, existing only to be parted out by an amateur scientist or an electrician in search of cheap parts. Antique glass was set high on the shelves, catching dusty light and sending a kaleidoscope of color to scatter over the room, freckling it in greens, reds, and yellows.

The entire store radiated a glorious sort of chaos and if it weren’t for the fact that he already felt a little woozy, he would’ve stayed for a while and poked through some of the wares. Maybe even find a new book for Red buried in the nearby piles, see if he’d be willing branch out into cowboy romance for a change.

He heading to the back of the shop where Miss Maggie was sitting in a rocking chair surrounded by boxes and shelves, knitting with flashing speed despite the foggy miasma hanging in the air. Her long white hair was smoothly braided and pinned up on top of her head, her weathered skin tanned dark and leathery. The weave of bright yellow yarn trailing from her needles was spread across her lap in an incongruous contrast to her dark, billowing skirt and the light sweater she wore against the chill of the air conditioning.

“Hello, Papyrus,” she greeted him with the sort of rough, croaky voice made over the years by a thousand packs of Marlboros. She didn’t look up, her attention completely focused on her knit and purl.

That gave him one hell of a pause. “how did you—” Stretch stopped. Great, he was in the soothsayer chapter and hadn’t even had time to prep. Yeah, okay, he didn’t really have any room in his life for another side quest, maybe let this one go. He didn’t actually want to know where she got her intel, not really, especially not with his head already spinning a little. He stuck his hands in his pockets to hide the way they wanted to curl into fists, rocking back and forth on his heels. “heya. i haven’t gone by papyrus in years, it’s stretch, thanks.”

“A wise choice,” Miss Maggie said. She sounded…different, somehow. He’d talked to her a few times now and strangely, today he couldn’t seem to place her accent. It wasn’t like the other townsfolk, all of them had a certain warm, down-homey charm, and usually so did she. Her words today were crisp, sharp-edged, nothing like the dreamy peace he was familiar with when she came into the store for coffee creamer and vanilla wafers. She glanced up at him over the wire rims of her glasses, her gaze as sharp as her tongue. “Names have power. A wise man keeps his true name to himself.”

“um. sure,” Stretch couldn’t stop himself from giving the door a longing glance. This was starting to seem like a bad idea, Miss Maggie seemed to be having a personality crisis, maybe he should come back after lunch. “that’s some very handy wisdom, but i’m here about a bike?”

She ignored that. “You have issues with names,” Miss Maggie told him. She kept knitting, needles flashing furiously in a rhythmic clickity-clack as steady as a metronome. “don’t you.”

“huh?” Stretch didn’t exactly have any flesh to get goosebumps with, but he felt a chill nonetheless, prickling maddeningly over his bones. His head was whirling, everything around him seemed to blur except the old woman in front of him. His tongue felt strangely thick as he whispered a question he didn’t want to ask, “i don’t…what do you mean?”

“Mmm, yes,” Miss Maggie sighed out, “so many names you’ve had and rejected. Had and left behind when you ran away, far, far away.”

“stop,” Stretch said weakly. His soul was starting to pulse with aching intensity behind his breastbone. The room filled with an electric heaviness like a coming storm, the rich green smell filling the room suddenly nauseating. “please, don’t.”

“Brother, lover, yes, but never father, not even once.”

“shut up,” Stretch said thickly. Or tried to, the words seemed to clot and stick at the back of his throat, refusing to travel over his useless tongue.

“And now you’re taking on new names,” she raised her head, and here in the dim, her eyes seemed like dark pools of pure blackness that reflected nothing of the flickering overhead lights. Her grin seemed unpleasant and wide, showing pale pink gums in an endless maw. “Is it friend you seek or something else, I wonder?”

As she turned towards him, her sleeve caught on the sugar bowl set on the table next to her, sending it tumbling to the floor. The burst of sound as it shattered pushed through his dazed distance like the snap of dry twig broken over a knee. Stretch jerked, blinking hard, and all the nebulous emotion in him surged forward, gathering and coalescing into real anger. He was starting to get sick of this shit, if everyone in town wanted to act like this place was Sleepy Hollow’s second-cousin, that was fine by him. He was happy to play along, but not if they were gonna keep sticking their shovels into his past to see what other skeletons they could dig up.

“look, fuck you,” Stretch snapped out. He turned back to the door, tossing over his shoulder. “never mind, i’ll figure out something else!”

“Wait!” And he didn’t want to wait, he wanted to push on through the door, but his stubborn feet suddenly refused to move. Miss Maggie clumsily thrust aside her knitting, hardly noticing her teacup wobbling, spilling tea and leaves out into her saucer in a wild splash. That funky weird woman vibe abruptly eased and so did some of the stench in the air, flavored instead with lavender tea. She waddled over to him, her long skirt dragging on the floor. Even bent over with age, she was impressively tall, hardly shorter than Stretch was, and he was a mini-skyscraper to most Humans. She looked up at him, her eyes a watery, pale blue, surrounded by a sea of wrinkles, how could he ever have imagined they were anything else?

Miss Maggie reached up to touch his cheekbone with fingers nearly as thin as his own.

“Oh, sweet child,” she said with mournful gentleness, and her voice was the smoky-sweet, grandmotherly one he recalled. “S’all right. Ain’t nothing wrong with setting aside a name you’ve outgrown, nor in taking on a new one.”

All his bright, burning anger collapsed inwardly, a card house with the center support removed, and hurt welled in him instead. He was crying, he realized distantly, tears stinging in his sockets, running down his cheekbones to gather on wetly his chin. He didn’t realize he was going to speak until he did, choking out, “it feels wrong.”

“How you feel and how things are don’t always match,” she agreed. She held out her arms, her gnarled hands open to him and Stretch leaned into them, burying his face in the soft, knitted shawl draped over her shoulder. She smelled like weed and lavender, a strange, exotic mixture. “i’ll get you all wet,” Stretch mumbled, muffled into the cloth.

She petted his skull gently, “It’s all right, child. I’ll dry.”

He held on tightly for a long time and when she finally drew back, she lightly touched his forehead with the tips of two dry fingers.

“You can get to his home through the forest,” she said, and it seemed to Stretch he could almost see it, clear as a picture someplace behind his sight. “Follow the exchange down about a mile, you’ll see a turnoff on the left. Don’t you stray from the path, you hear me, sonny?” Those pale, rheumy eyes searched his face for understanding. “Easy to get lost out there.”

“i won’t.”

“Good.” She let him go and shuffled back to her chair to picked up her knitting again. “Now, you mentioned something about a bike.”

For a moment, Stretch stood there, practically wobbling on his feet. He felt like he’d woken up from an unexpected nap, still floating in between the sleeping and waking worlds. Then he blinked, snapping awake, and looked around almost wildly. Until his gaze snagging on one of the shelves, or more specifically, something sitting on it, and held.

“a bike, i did.” Stretch walked over to the shelf where a bandana was sitting, a bright turkey-red plaid, and picked it up, holding it out for Miss Maggie to see. “how much for this, too?”

By the time he left the shop, he was in a fine mood despite his savings being a little lighter. He was pushing a rattly old bike with a squeaky chain and a horn that let loose with a hoarse ‘awhooga’ when the dusty rubber bulb was squeezed. The bandana was stuffed into his short’s pocket and the first thing he was gonna do was deal with that, then he’d worry about some maintenance. Probably better to find out if his new bike was streetworthy before taking his act on the road.

He used the walk back to the store to draw in a few deep, refreshing breaths of the heat-smoggy air, letting it clear his head.

“miss maggie sure smokes some strong shit,” Stretch muttered to himself. He left the bike leaning against the porch around back and headed over to the main road, taking his normal walking route down towards the corn. There were no kids on the makeshift baseball diamond today, looked like they’d headed off somewhere else to enjoy their penny candy.

The grass was yellowed and dying under his sneakers as he went off the beaten path, heading towards the rustling corn. Was it his imagination, or did those whispers get louder as he approached, even eager? The corn got lonely sometimes, Edgar Allen had said, but it didn’t mean any harm.

Somehow, he didn’t think the skeleton they’d found in the fields back in Doris’s day would agree.

“um, hi?” Stretch tried. There was no one around to see him and he still felt ridiculous, talking to the damn corn. “look, i dunno if you can understand me, but if you do, could you see that edgar allen gets this? i wanted to thank him for helping me out and i thought it’d look good on him.”

Carefully, he laid the bandana over a crux of green leaves and stalk, tugging to make sure it wouldn’t simply blow away. He left it there and turned back to town, hoping that the scarecrow got the message; as much as he wanted to thank the guy, he really didn’t feel like taking a second go in the corn maze to do it. He didn’t look back until he got back to the side of the road and there he paused, frowning. The splash of red should’ve been vivid against the sea of green but there was nothing, not so much as a glimpse.

He craned his neck, searching, but it hadn’t fallen to the ground and the wind wasn’t strong enough to carry it off. Maybe the corn had gotten the message after all? Yeah, he was going with that, and he headed back to take a look at his new bike, hands in his pockets and whistling cheerfully, which was a heck of a trick for someone without lips.

Yeah, he felt pretty good today and why not? He had a place to stay, a job, someone looking after him, and a dog. And now he had a bike. Things were looking up, Stretch decided.

Things were looking up.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater

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galaxy-parchment · 4 years ago

Text

Jon is outed as Steampunk

Hello my beautiful patient followers. I’ve returned with TMA content because it’s my latest obsession. I’m proud to say that my first contribution to the fandom is an obligatory Mechs!Jon fic because I find them hilarious.

Tim was doing his best to avoid having to go up to the boss’s office all day, but was very disappointed to find he had no choice but to pop in for a visit to give him some of the ‘possibly true’ statements.

It wasn’t like he was going to believe it anyway - what was even the point? The guy was so uptight Tim didn’t think he knew how to have some fun and imagine the possibility that maybe there was something exciting in the universe. Tim supposed that didn’t really change the fact that he needed to give the guy his precious statements, so he groaned and grabbed the pile he’d gathered up.

He approached the door and stopped short of it, wondering if he would even notice if he didn’t give him the statements. He really didn’t have the energy for whatever job he was going to be given if he dared to walk in. Then something caught his ear.

Was Jon… chanting?

He was talking slightly quieter than his speaking volume and that definitely wasn’t English. It couldn’t be him speaking to himself. Jon had specifically told him the other day he didn’t speak any other languages. He tried picking out his words in case he was just mishearing, but the words were very clear and were certainly not anything coherent. He did catch him occasionally switch to humming. Was Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute singing to himself?

Tim made a mental note of the more coherent words and stepped into the doorway.

“Hey, boss!” he couldn’t help but be amused at how Jon jumped at the sound of him. He ripped his hand away from his face, which was pressed up against it, and readjusted his glasses with the hand.

“What did you need, Tim?” he asked, looking up at him unenthusiastically.

“Got a fresh delivery of statements for you!” he said cheerily, stepping up to the desk and placing the pile on an empty part of the table with a satisfying slap.

“Later than usual I see. Doesn’t matter I suppose. Would you mind filing away all of these on your way out?” Jon said, gesturing to a pile of statement files that was even larger than the one he’d just brought in. Great.

“Sure thing, boss! Wouldn’t want you having any of the fun, eh?” He joked, which didn’t seem to carry the same amusement for the other man.

“Shut up, Tim,” he deadpanned, returning to his work, signalling that the exchange was over.

Tim wandered back to his desk faster than usual and frantically wrote down all of the phrases he could remember.

What were they…. He definitely said something that sounded like ‘yai’ and he thought he heard a ‘sothoth’. How was he supposed to find anything with this gibberish? With little hope he opened up his web browser,typing in the words, and was surprised to find it wasn’t gibberish at all. It was some Lovecraftian chant. He doubted Jonathan ‘this-statement-is-wrong-because-this-word-is-mispelled’ Sims would be the sort of guy to worship Cthulhu.

He’d been humming though, hadn’t he? Maybe it was a song. With his impeccable research skills he added ‘song’ to the end of his search and right there on the first page of results was a song called ‘Red Signal’ by the Mechanisms. He clicked on a video and listened to the song. That was definitely the same tune. It was strange, though. He never really pegged the bossman as someone that listened to this sort of thing. It reminded him of a folksy sort of punk or metal? Then the chanting stopped and switched to a spoken verse and Tim froze.

Was that Jon? It definitely sounded like him… Maybe the voice was a bit deeper and gravelly but Tim could have sworn that it was his voice. He frantically searched up the band. After looking through some photoshoots for some old albums he couldn’t help but stare. That was definitely his boss with quite a bit of makeup and dressed in some very over-the-top steampunk getup and flipping off the camera. He suddenly felt someone pressing up against his chair from behind.

“Is that Jon?” Sasha asked, leaning over his shoulder, squinting at the screen with her head cocked.

“Apparently,” Tim said, grinning ear to ear. “Look, I did some digging and it turns out he used to be in this steampunk band,” he continued, showing Sasha more pictures of Jon and his bandmates on the page.

“That’s amazing. He looks quite good in the pictures though, don’t you think?” she said with a chuckle.

“Right? He actually looks like he’d be fun to have a drink with!” He switched back to ‘Red Signal’ and started playing it. “I mean listen to this, he’s actually good, too!”

“How did you even find this?”

“He was singing it to himself and I used my incredibly advanced skills to track it down,” Tim bragged, making a show of readjusting his lapels.

“If only you put the same effort into actually working,” she chided, giving him a cheerful nudge with her elbow.

“Alas, I don’t think there’d be any work left for the rest of you if I did. It’s a public service to you all.” He grinned.

“Riiiight, because this place could run without me around.” Sasha grinned back.

The door to the shared office opened with a sharp creak and Martin stepped into the room.

They looked up and Tim called, “Hey Martin! How was Bexley?”

“Quite nice, actually! No creepy witches sending body parts to people, but there were some very kind old ladies I had the pleasure of speaking to!”

“Sounds like it was fun!” Sasha replied with a warm smile.

Martin was placing his bag down at his desk when he stopped and looked back at the two of them.

“What song is that?” he asked.

Tim grinned mischievously. “It’s called ‘Red Signal’, it’s by-“

“-by the Mechanisms? I had a friend that loved them, played it all of the time,” Martin finished, chuckling to himself at the memory. “I quite like their music, actually.”

Sasha and Tim took a moment to stare at each other knowingly and beamed innocently at Martin as he turned back to them.

Sasha looked at him with the same warm smile she’d given him before. “Maybe you could ask Jon if he’s heard of them while you give him your report?”

“Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing he’d go for,” he wondered.

“People can surprise you all of the time, may as well ask anyway. It’s not like he’s gonna hate your guts any more than he already does.”

Martin made a disappointed wince. “I guess so.”

“Don’t let that grump get you down, Martin, he probably just has a huge crush on you,” Sasha smirked.

“What? N-no! As if, that doesn’t even make any sense!” he stammered, turning back to his desk and sitting down to hide the red that was spreading over his face.

“Ask him, though, will you? I’ve already had to go up there today and he’s given me a whole stack of files to go through. Not sure I could take another trip,” Tim joked as Sasha moved back to her desk. “Don’t tell him it was me that was wondering, though, he’d probably think it’s a trick or something,” he added casually.

“R-right, sure thing, Tim,” Martin obliged.

—

Martin knocked on Jon’s half-open door later that day, report in hand. Jon spared him a brief glance upwards before looking back down at his work.

“Did you find anything regarding the Bexley statement?” he asked, not bothering to hide his disinterest as Martin placed his report on the table.

“I didn’t find the woman described in the statement, but I made sure to check every elderly Angela,” he said, a bit disappointed at how useless the trip was. “I did have some wonderful conversations about jigsaw puzzles with a few of them, though!” he added cheerfully. Thankfully Jon didn’t seem to be in a mood to scold him, but wasn’t at all invested in the conversation. Martin was about to leave when he remembered Tim’s request.

“Oh, uh, by the way, we were- well we were talking about it earlier so I was wondering if you’d heard of the Mechanisms? Like that space pirate band that used to play in a lot of London bars?”

Jon froze up for a moment before quickly explaining, “Erm, no I don’t think I have. Not uh…. not a big fan of going to see bands play at shows, you know?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Oh, okay? I guess it doesn’t seem like something you’d like�� are you okay? You seem… off?”

“I’m quite fine, Martin, just a bit of a headache, I suppose. If you’ll excuse me I need to get back to this,” he said dismissively, returning to whatever he was writing down and setting Martin’s report on a stack.

“Sure! Did you need any tea? I’ve got one that’s really good for headaches,” he offered.

“That won’t be necessary, Martin, get back to work.”

“Right.” Martin concluded as he left the room.

—

Things had been going a bit too slowly for Martin’s liking in the past few days. That usually meant Jon got antsy about people not doing as much work. It wasn’t like there was anything to do in the first place.

He was at least in the break room with Tim having lunch, who was playing more Mechanisms music, so Jon couldn’t tell either of them off right now. As his mind drifted to Jon, the man himself entered the room with his own lunch and made his way to the coffee machine.

The song Tim was playing was pretty good. Martin curiously looked at Tim’s phone on the table playing the music.

“What song is that, Tim?”

“Ah, it’s called ‘Loki’, it’s from this great album called ‘The Bifrost Incident’,” he said with an obnoxious grin. Jon looked at them and ducked his head when Martin looked back.

Martin pulled out his own phone and searched up ‘The Bifrost Incident’ and found a video from a show that he opened up. After a bit of pre-show banter the first song started.

That was when Martin heard Johnny DeVille do the song’s introduction. He’d always thought the lead singer sounded familiar, but the paragraph gave Martin a very vivid recollection of the exact tone of voice Jon always used when he recorded statements.

That couldn’t be right, no way was that him. He took a good look at Johnny and looked between his own phone at the man with black cracks drawn on his face wearing the most steampunk outfit he’d ever seen and Jon, who was standing there, in his sweater vest, making a cup of coffee to go with his sandwich. Tim was looking at both of them struggling not to laugh and Jon was suddenly VERY interested in the coffee he had just poured out.

“JOHNNY DEVILLE?” Martin exclaimed, prompting Tim to bend over, choking on his own stifled laughter.

Jon picked up his coffee and claimed his sandwich from the table behind him and refused to meet Martin’s gaze.

“Thats- uh- probably just a coincidence… I’m, uh, I’ll just have lunch in my office today,” he mumbled out, clearly not convinced he’d covered it up at all and left the room without another word.

Tim pulled himself back up and let out a heavy breath. “Oh, ha, Martin, sorry, it’s just Sasha and I were wondering how long it was gonna take,” he sighed gleefully. “Hopefully he’ll face society again. Hard to imagine the bossman was ever that cool, huh?”

Martin stared at the door. “Yeah…”

—

The next day Jon came into the office, but hadn’t shown his face for the whole day. Martin felt bad about yesterday, he probably overreacted a bit. Tim assured him it was fine and that the boss just isn’t the type to take a bit of embarrassment on the chin. This didn’t stop Martin from dropping in with a cup of tea when it became clear Jon wasn’t leaving his office for lunch.

Martin knocked on the door and upon getting a gruff ‘yes?’ from the other side he let himself in. Jon was more dismissive than usual and didn’t even spare a glance at him. Martin wasn’t sure how much of it was his usual grumpiness and how much was because of yesterday.

He set the tea down in the spot Jon usually kept it, right next to his coffee mug from yesterday. Martin waited for any acknowledgement. The acknowledgement never came and Jon’s expression was unreadable. The fact that he was looking down intently didn’t help.

“You know, I think it’s pretty cool that you were in a band. It’s not like you’re a murderer or something actually bad,” Martin said, desperate to break the silence. Jon clenched his pen tighter and looked up at him cautiously.

“That’s… kind of you to say…” he responded.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ve all done some pretty silly things. I will be honest, though, Jon, if being the lead singer for the Mechanisms is the most embarrassing thing you’ve done, I am extremely jealous.”

Jon smiled in a way that looked almost bashful on him. “It was a lot of fun, performing. It was a real shame when we all split after university.”

“I can imagine,” Martin sighed, silently cursing himself at how softly he’d said it. “Steampunk outfits really suit you, though, Jon. The makeup was a nice touch too.” He turned and made his way back to the door.

As Martin went to close the door behind him Jon grumbled, “Shut up, Martin.”

—

The next morning Martin found something on his desk. It was a Mechanisms shirt neatly folded up and a copy of the Bifrost Incident album, both signed by all of the band members.

The note lying on top of them read ‘I had a few extras at home - J’ and Martin couldn’t help but feel giddy.

#galaxywrites #the magnus archives #tma #fanfiction #the magnus pod #jonathan sims #the archivist #tim stoker #sasha james #the mechanisms #mechs!jon #martin blackwood

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bitter-sweet-farmgirl · 3 years ago

Text

Pick Up Lines

Welp, so a special someone has a birthday today, and I took part in a writing contest that she had to celebrate it. The funny part about this is that I wrote this story literally the day after I picked out my prompt. So I've been sitting on this story for about 2(?) months just waiting in suspense to share it, XD

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @guardianofrivendell!!!

I used this quote.

And this is a pairing between Fili & Tullaina

Warnings: Well, there maybe be an innuendo in there somewhere... ;) and a swear word or two. Nothing crazy

Pick Up Lines

My eyes flickered across the yellowing parchment of the scroll I had been assigned to read. At first the words were interesting and held my attention. Then as my attention began to wander, they became dull and frankly, dare I think it? Meaningless?

The librarian--and Ori--would strangle me, no questions asked if they knew how dull I found this ancient scrap to be.

The soft rustle of paper brought my attention back to the Dwarrowdame sitting across from me; dark-haired head bowed over the pages of an absurdly large and heavy tome whose title was written in overly large, flourishing golden script: A Brief History of Durin's Line: Volume 205.

I made a mental note to add my tutor, Lorelei, to the list. If she knew that I was more interested in a certain dark-haired dame than the 'exceedingly valuable and history-filled document whose knowledge is crucial to your future role of King' scroll, then she would be madder than Uncle Thorin when Kili had accidentally, (I wasn't so sure about that part), kicked Thorin's clothes into the river as he attempted to jump into it as we camped by it during the Quest.

It probably wouldn't help that Kili had already pissed her off earlier today during his session with her when he tried--unsuccessfully-- to flirt with her. Apparently the dame couldn't tell that my baby brother was head-over-heels for her.

"Oi, Fili!" A low, feminine voice called out loudly, making me cringe and breathe a sigh of relief all at the same time.

I twisted in my wooden chair to look over at the approaching Dwarrowdame. Dark red hair bounced messily across her shoulders as she trotted towards the table Lorelei and I occupied. The bright, beaming smile on her freckled face lit up the whole room and I found myself grinning automatically as she stopped beside my chair.

"Are you still studying these dusty old scrolls? Doesn't Thorin know that the sun is shining outside and there are things," she winked meaningfully at me, "that need to be done?"

I chuckled, pushing my chair away from the table with a soft scraping sound and stood up to tower a few inches above the dame.

"Good afternoon to you too, Tullaina." I answered, hurrying to roll up the parchment I had been trying to read until thoughts about Tullaina entered by head. Lorelei took one look at how I was treating the ancient parchment and let out an indignant gasp.

"I'll handle that, Prince Fili. Just don't damage this priceless piece of knowledge!" She gasped, snatching the scroll away from me and cradling it gently.

"Sorry, Lory." I apologized sheepishly, but she only shook her head.

"Just go on, I know you are eager to go spend time with Lady Tullaina. Do not let me stand in your way, Prince Fili." She sighed, and I shot a grin at Tullaina.

"Let's go and you can tell me about what things you have in mind."

~~~~~

We strolled through an abandoned corridor of Erebor together, Tullaina chatting animatedly about a prank she had conjured up when she'd accidentally set fire to one of Erebor's kitchens while attempting to assist one of the cooks with the cutting of a slab of pork.

"...and all the smoke and the blood from my finger made me think of setting up a sort of scene in one of the corridors and making a huge smoky fire and spilling berry juice everywhere. It would look like one big murder scene without a body." She finished up excitedly, and I could only smile.

"I like the idea, Tulls, but don't you think that's a bit complicated? I mean, coordinating all that and finding all those berries..." I trailed off as Tullaina's nose wrinkled up as she frowned.

Adorable.

"I guess..." She nodded, pondering my words. "Is there something else we could do for June Fools?"

I glanced over at her, making momentary eye contact with those wondrously captivating brown irises of hers.

"Well... I was considering something that is a bit more.... Criminal."

Tullaina's eyes got big.

"What?!" She hissed, stopping dead to stare at me in disbelief. "Fili, are you nuts? If your Uncle caught us doing something illegal..."

I shrugged, a smirk winding its way across my face as I took in her confusion. "You've already committed a crime, Tulls, and you made it look easy."

She let out an indignant gasp and put her hands on her hips in a gesture that warned me that she was getting angry. "Fili, I may be many things, but I am not a thief." She ground out, but I kept smirking at her. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I've never stolen a thing in my life!"

My smirk only grew as she denied any thieving activities. Crossing my arms across my chest, I raised an eyebrow at her in perfect seriousness. "Oh, but you have stolen something, Tulls." I murmured, making Tullaina frown up at me.

"What are you accusing me of stealing? Fili, I swear, if this is about that bloody teddy bear you had when you were thirty--"

I shook my head, holding up a hand to halt her angry spew of words. "No, you stole my heart." I murmured, holding eye contact with her.

Her mouth dropped open in an expression of complete surprise and shock and she stared mutely up at me. "I, wha-what?" She choked out, and I quickly dropped my serious approach.

Today was not the day.

Quickly plastering on a teasing grin, I nudged her with my elbow, forcing out a laugh. "Gotcha." Then I started walking again, stamping down all the doubting, questioning thoughts threatening to break through the wall I had built.

But in a moment, Tullaina was beside me again, her laughter echoing off the stone walls. "Mahal, Fili.... You really had me going there for awhile..." She giggled, raising her hand to brush her hair over her shoulder. "That's a really bad pick-up line, though...."

I grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, I thought you'd get a laugh out of it. And unfortunately there's more where that came from."

Tullaina's warm brown eyes lit up and she looked expectantly up at me. "Okay, spill." She asked excitedly, almost bouncing as we walked.

I eyed her anxiously, unsure how to proceed with this. But then she looked over at me and all my doubts were whisked away in the blink of an eye.

I was her friend, she was mine. There was nothing more here. Just treat her like you always do.

"Alright, what about this one? Do you have a sunburn or are you always this hot?"

At first, Tullaina gaped, then she snorted; eyes closing as she giggled. "That one's not bad..." She commented, and I felt a burst of encouragement.

"My friends bet me that I wouldn't be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful girl in the tavern. Wanna buy some drinks with their money?"

Tullaina shrugged at that one, tilting her hand from side to side. "That one's okay..."

To my horror, the next one that popped into my mind--and subsequently out of my mouth--was one that I never would have dreamed of saying to Tullaina. "Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?"

Instantly, Tullaina's cheeks turned beet red--likely matching mine--and she turned to look at me, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she couldn't decide if it would be appropriate to smile or not. "Ummm...."

"Mahal, I didn't think before I spoke, Tulls." I apologized, rubbing the back of my neck.

Tullaina giggled nervously. "It's alright, Fili. I just never expected that to be something you would say to a lass."

"It's not something I would say unless I'm completely off my face." I admitted, and the smile returned hesitantly to her face. "But, what do you think of this one? Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

Tullaina stuck out her tongue. "That one is awful..." She stated with a wrinkled nose. "0/10 would recommend using."

I laughed, feeling a soothing wave of relief wash over me as the previous awkward mood faded. "I thought that one wasn't half bad!" I defended the line, but Tullaina only rolled her eyes.

"You're a Dwarrow. Of course it sounds good to you. But if you were a dame... We have a different perspective on things." She explained offhandedly. "Please, continue."

"Do you have a name or can I call you mine?"

"Where in Mahal's name did you get this one?!" Tullaina exclaimed, pretending to gag. "That one is worse than the last!"

"I'll agree with you on this one. I'd never dream of using this to get a lass' name. It's just rude."

Tullaina nodded vigorously. "If you used it on me, I'd slap you so hard you'd have a permanent imprint of my hand on your face." She stated venomously, and I took a hesitant step sideways. This made her laugh as she watched me. "Not now, if you had just met me and were being weird. Only one of those things applies to you so you're safe."

I let out an affronted gasp. "I'm not weird!"

Tullaina only shrugged, smirking at me. "I'm a girl, and to girls, boys are weird."

"Fair point. And the same is true likewise."

Removing the extra space I had put between us by taking a sideways step, Tullaina looked over at me. "Okay, one last one, then we actually need to move onto serious topics. If you let me, I will procrastinate over June Fools, and that cannot happen on our first try at doing Twelve Months of Fools. I mean, we've already gotten through five months successfully! We can't stop now!"

I nodded, giving Tullaina a sly look. "Alright, unless that would be the prank all along since people are expecting it now?"

"NO!"

"Fine, fine..." I relented, extending my hand towards her. "Your hand looks heavy, can I hold it for you?"

"Sure." Tullaina placed her hand in mine; palm gentle and warm against the calloused, rough surface of mine.

The unexpected motion had my brain shutting down as I frantically tried to figure out what was supposed to happen next.

Tullaina shot me a confused look, glancing down at our hands. "Fili, you're supposed to hold my hand back, not just suddenly let it become a limp noodle."

I didn't respond, trying frantically to think of something--anything!--to say. Which, of course, led to the absolute last thing I wanted to say being the exact thing I said.

"Your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?"

Tullaina's lips parted; the bottom jutting out just the tiniest bit because it was slightly bigger than the top. Not that I knew this because I'd spent literal days just gazing at her perfect, sensual lips.

No, not at all.

"Fili, I, uh, yeah..." Tullaina whispered, and I stared at her in shock.

She stared back expectantly.

The silence continued on for another very long, very awkward moment until Tullaina spoke up. "You're not going to say anything? Are you serious or is this just a prank?" She asked, and I detected just the barest hint of vulnerability in her soft-spoken words.

I sucked in a deep breath, realizing that I hadn't really been breathing between my last sentence and Tullaina's. "I don't know," I breathed, staring at Tullaina in terror. "I didn't think I would get this far!"

The corner of Tullaina's mouth turned up in a smile. "Maybe we just experiment a bit, yeah?" She asked, taking one step closer to me. "Because I'm bloody scared out of my mind, Fili, but if I don't do this I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life."

I nodded silently, staring down at her as she took another slow step closer, rising up on her toes. Automatically, my hands settled on her waist, steadying her as I leaned down to meet her plush, distracting lips.

"OH DEAR MAHAL, FINALLY!!"

Tullaina and I jumped apart, looking around wildly for the terrifyingly familiar voice. I found it in the form of Kili as he peeked out from a pillar, hands clamped around his mouth and a look of absolute panic on his face.

"Oh, uh, I wasn't supposed to interrupt you... Just go back to kissing or whatever. Pretend I was never here." He faltered, looking at Tullaina and I sheepishly. "Sorry."

I took a step forward, bristling as I prepared to teach Kili a lesson he wouldn't forget. "Kili, I'm going to--"

Tullaina grabbed my sleeve, stopping me in my tracks as she finished my sentence. "Spend time with Tullaina. Come on, Fili. We have things to do and abandoned corridors to explore."

#guardian of rivendell birthday writing challenge #tulls #tullaina #fili #fili x tullaina #fili x oc #the hobbit #fanfic #fanfiction #happy birthday!!!!!#a brief history of a line of durin strikes again #kili #lorelei #kili x lorelei #fluff #pick up lines #kili is a matchmaker

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the-dead-skwad · 5 years ago

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He left X Reader X Damien Haas

So after a long time of staring at an empty page I have finally wrote something again. This request: Hey! I don’t know if you’re taking requests, but if your are then could I request an imagine where reader and Damien Haas break up and they’re sad and stuff, so the rest of the smosh fam try to get them back together, please? @lula132

I’m so sorry it too so long.. but here is one of two ideas I had. I can post the other when I finish it. I finally got over my writer block.

You were lying face first on the sofa yet again. In the background you could hear some anime show playing but you had no energy to move and actually watch it. Swimming in your own thoughts the sound of your front door opening made you jump.

"Jesus Christ!" Courtney's voice boomed across your open plan living room.

You lifted you head revealing two wet patches from your tears. "Hey." You sniffled.

"Awhh buddy." She pushed your gross tissues off the sofa with a pen and sat down next to you. "How you feeling?" She wrapped an arm around you and pulled you in for a cuddle.

"Erm.. I'm gonna be honest, not so great." You sniffled again "I feel like my heart got shit on."

"I don't understand man.. None of us do." She squeezed you tighter.

"He just left.. No reason, no sorry, just gone."

"He's in Japan at the moment."

"I know, I saw his instagram." You snuggled closer into her "Maybe he met someone over there the last time he went. That's literally the only thing I could think of."

"I never thought he would ever do that to you man... Did he leave any of his things here?"

"A few hoodies, some games, not much." You pulled on the jumper you were wearing "I swear this one stills smells like him."

"No offence dude, but you straight up smell like beer and Cheetos."

You half smiled at her "You're an asshole."

"But Ian said you were coming back in tomorrow."

"Yeah, I am. I can't stay away forever."

"Okay then, " She pulled away from the cuddle "Lets sort your stinky ass out. Get a shower, clean up this place, get you outside, fresh and ready for tomorrow."

"Christ." You sighed as you stood up "I guess I have to."

The beeping of Courtney's car snapped you out of you day dream, almost spilling your coffee. You picked up your work bag, placed your mug in the sink and headed out. She sat in the car smiling and waving like a mad man as you locked the door.

She wound the window down and music blasted out. She sung at the top of her voice, while you prayed none of your neighbors were watching you.

"Hey!"

"Oh jesus!" The creepy old lady that lived next door popped up from behind her fence scaring the life out of you. "Good morning Mrs Kersh."

"Nice to see you out of your pajamas, not crying."

"Thanks!... You nosey old bitch." The last part was under your breath.

You jumped in the car, "Who the hell is that?" Courtney tried looking around you at the old lady.

"One of the noseyest old bags I've ever met." You slapped your knees "Anyway, lets do this.. I'm ready to go back to my shared office, that I share with the man you broke my heart."

"No!" Courtney shouted at you "You got 3 days before he's back from Japan. None of this sad shit. We are all coming together to cheer you up."

"Fine." You smiled at her.

The first thing you saw as you pulled into the parking lot was Shayne’s smiling face. You jumped out the car and he ran to you squeezing you as tight as he could. "Oh" he spoke into your jumper "I wanted to come see you.. but I didn't want to upset you."

"It's okay man. I understand, he's your best friend." You squeezed him a little tighter till you both let go.

Walking into the office everyone was smiling at you but in such a weird way. You walked to the ballpit and sat at your desk. You were faced with a photo of you and him just smiling your dumb faces off. "Ugh jesus." You put your head on your desk.

"Hey." Noah's sweet little voice came from behind you "I made you a coffee."

"Oh thanks.. That’s super sweet."

"How are you?"

You smiled "I'm fine man.. yanno its a break up. Yeah he broke my heart but I'm not dying. Everyone is just looking at me super weird."

"Yeahhh, they just don't want to upset you. It's a difficult situation."

"I'm just going to get my head down today, got so many emails and scripts to look at at."

"Good, if you need anything." He gently patted you on the back.

"Thanks Noah." You smiled as he walked over to his desk. You put your head phones in and focused on your computer.

Only a few minutes had passed and you were trying to ignore the commotion going off behind you. Usually it was just Shayne doing something stupid. But then again you could do with cheering up a bit. You took your head phones out and spun in your office chair. Looking across the office everyone was stood in a group. That's when your heart fell out of your ass. He was stood there smiling as though nothing had happened. Your mouth was dry and you felt cemented to your chair. 'I gotta get out of here.' You thought to yourself. As you stood you felt as though the whole room had shrunk and everyone was looking at you. It wasn't true, you grabbed your mug and ran to the kitchen as fast as your could.

While the coffee machine did it's thing you stood with your hands on the counter, just staring at nothing. Your heart was pounding out your chest when someone in the door way made you jump "I'm making coffee!" You almost screamed it.

"Okay dude.." Luckily it was Courtney.

"Sorry, I'm just freaking out..." You looked at her "Like bad."

She ran over to you and hugged you "Awhh, I didn't know he was going to be back today. I'm sorry."

"Its okay." You hugged her back. "Do you reckon I could sneak out the window?"

"This is your work as much as it is his." She put both her hands on your arms holding you in place "Now, get out there, flip that hair and show you are a strong woman!"

"Sir yes sir.." You mocked her. She kicked you as you left the room. You ran back into the kitchen.

"What! Do I need to walk out there with you?"

"No, I forgot my coffee." Taking the mug you left again. You took a deep breath and held your head high. Making no eye contact with anyone you sat at your desk.

"Hey."

"Jesus.. I swear like 5 people have made me jump today." You turned to the person on the desk next to you and your smile dropped.

"You look nice." Damien tried to smile at you.

You took a breath to gather some courage "What are you doing?"

"Y/N I'm sorry but.."

You cut him off "You don't get to say anything, look I don't want to argue or even talk about this while we're surrounded by all our friends and colleges. But I know we have to talk so.." You looked around "I know Smosh games is empty because Mari said she won't be back for a few days."

"Okay, I'll go put my lunch in the fridge and I'll meet you there."

You had been waiting for around 10 minutes and you were getting more and more wound up. Going over all the things you wanted to say to him. The door opened and the look on hias face just stopped all that anger instantly.

You groaned "This is so much harder than I thought it was going to be."

"What?" He sat in his gaming chair.

You sat in yours that was of course right next to his. "Well, we had this whole life together. A house, cats, we wear each others clothes, we work basically on each others knee everyday, we even have the same friends." You sighed "How can we possibly live normally with out being together? And I know we did it before but..."

"Y/N" He cut you off this time "Stop talking... Just for a second and breathe." He took both of your hands in his, you wanted to pull away but your heart was aching for him "I know I messed up really bad but I still love you."

"How can you say that?" A tear fell down your left cheek "You left me alone in our house, went to another country with out even a good bye. No explanation, nothing." You sniffled and looked at him dead in the eye "You broke my heart Damien."

"I am so so sorry." His voice was low "I panicked and I wish I could change what I did. I know how much I hurt you and it hurts me knowing I was the person to make you feel like this. But I pray deep down that one day you can forgive me for leaving you."

"What do you mean you panicked? Damien... We've been together for 4 years. Nothing new was going off."

"The day before I left I bought this." He reached into the front pocket pf his bag and passed you a small box.

"What the flying fuck is this?" You opened it and was faced with a beautiful engagement ring. "Are you serious?"

"Look.." He sounded panicked "I don't want to to answer but I bought this then I freaked out and I just fucked up big time. I don't even know if we're actually together right now but just hold onto it and I stay in our spare room for now."

"Okay.." You put the ring on your pocket "I suppose I'll think about it." You walked over to the door and pulled the handle down but the door was locked "What the hell?" You pulled on the door a bit to no avail.

"Sorry guys!" Courtney's voice came from the other side of the door "You're not coming out till you sort this out."

"You were made for each other so fix it!" Shayne screamed at you.

You turned and smiled and Damien "Fuck."

#damien haas x reader #damien haas fluff #damien haas imagine #damien haas #smosh squad #smosh imagine #smosh fanfic #smosh fanfiction #smosh fic #smosh #smosh damien #smosh shayne #smosh courtney #courtney miller #shayne topp

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celosiaa · 4 years ago

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Submission by @entitynumber5: Hi Connor, I hope you’re having a WONDERFUL birthday and that you get to take a break from studying to do the things you enjoy and just have the lovely day you deserve!!! For this morning’s “write what I like” sprint (trying a new method of getting it all out before I have to put the brain into study mode), I wrote a lil something about 🎃 spooky season birthdays 🎃set in the Emmaverse… which turned out kind of long and a bit sappy. So there is no pressure to read it! I just love these characters :’) the working title is “Martin and Jon get proven wrong by an adorable five year old”.

Content warnings: brief mentions of blood, alcohol and minor injury (in relation to Martin working a Halloween paramedic shift); food.

Emma is obsessed with birthdays. Just not her own.

She turned five in May, and no matter how special they tried to make the day—with rainbow layer cake and carefully-selected presents and a visit to the roller-skating rink with her best friends—she didn’t seem half as excited as when it was someone else’s birthday. She would hardly sleep the night before friends’ parties. She spent hours wrapping the presents she picked for them with ribbons and bows and even confetti stuffed inside the paper. The only time they could encourage her to practice the piano for her weekly lessons was when she played the Happy Birthday song over FaceTime for her friends’ birthdays that were during school holidays.

The only thing Emma seems to have held onto from her own birthday is the notebook given to her Georgie and Melanie. Martin seems to remember there being two: one with little cartoon ghost drawn in the front by Georgie and the other with a scribble of the Admiral by Melanie. But Emma only carries the one around with her everywhere, and Martin is starting to doubt his own memory about there being a duplicate.

She has it with her now, as they sit outside the lecture theatre where Jon is currently teaching. In the too-big chair beside the door, her legs swing as she holds the notebook very close, staring intently at its pages while she wriggles her fluffy purple pen in thought.

“Daddy,” Emma says, in that voice that means she has a Very Serious Question, “When is your birthday?”

Martin is still a little dazed from nearly a week of night shifts. It’s the first time in six days that he hasn’t been working or sleeping at this time in the afternoon, and while walking with Emma to Jon’s work to surprise him at the end of the day seemed like a nice idea in practice, he really wishes he was lying on the sofa. They could be watching Peppa Pig for the thousandth time. Or getting started on dinner, which he isn’t going to let Jon make after a long day of teaching. He’s been mentally calculating how many hours it is until he can go to bed, how many tasks he has to do before then.

This feels like a selfish thought, though, and he pushes it aside quickly in favour of smiling at Emma. “My birthday?”

“Yes,” Emma replies, still very grave, “That’s what I said. At school today, Miss Jones made us all put stickers on the big calendar on the wall for our birthdays. I wrote down all of my friends’ birthdays.”

“That’s nice.”

“And now I want to write down yours.”

“Okay, well, my birthday is next month.”

Emma frowns. “Next month. That’s…” she counts on her fingers until she seems to reach the answer she’s looking for. “October?”

“It is!” Martin grins. “Well done.”

Emma’s little frown doesn’t ease. “What day?”

“Well, do you know how many days are in October?”

Emma thinks. Shakes her head.

“There are thirty-one days in October,” Martin tells Emma, “And my birthday is on the very last day.”

Emma nods and returns to her notebook, slowly enunciating the words as she writes them down: “Oc-to-ber three-one.”

Martin wonders if Emma realises his birthday coincides with Halloween. Besides birthdays, she still doesn’t seem too interested in dates, no matter how many times her teacher makes her write them at the top of every page in her workbook. And during previous years, they celebrated Martin’s birthday the day before or after Halloween itself, so they can separate the two events, although perhaps she doesn’t remember.

Before Martin can ask, the door of the lecture theatre opens and students start filing out. Emma puts away her notebook and pen, her frown of concentration replaced by a glowing smile as she waits, bouncing excitedly in the chair, for her Baba to notice them waiting just outside.

“Jon,” Martin whisper-shouts as he tiptoes into the house after his shift, hoping he doesn’t wake Emma—but that his husband knows it’s urgent. “Jon, Jon, Jon.”

Jon emerges from the kitchen, wearing a pair of yellow washing up gloves dripping soap suds and a look of alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Martin ushers him back into the kitchen and shuts the door as quietly as possible, hoping it won’t wake Emma—or, worse yet, the cats, who will sit outside any closed door and cry to be let inside no matter what activity they were engaged in before.

“Martin,” Jon says, “What’s going on?”

“They just released the shifts for the next few weeks,” Martin replies, “And I’m working.”

“Well, good. I should hope so.”

“On my birthday.”

Jon’s expression merges into one of comprehension: Emma. And her newfound obsession with birthdays. “Ah.”

“Yep.”

“I don’t suppose you could swap shifts with someone?” Jon asks.

Martin sits down at the table, lowering his head into his hands. He wants to shower, change out of his paramedic uniform, but he knows he won’t be able to focus on anything else until they’ve had this conversation. “No one’s going to willingly take a Halloween shift. For a start, Andrew is terrified of clowns. And people are usually drunk, and it’s actually really hard to tell the difference between real and fake blood.”

“We could celebrate the day after,” Jon says, taking off the washing up gloves and sitting opposite Martin. He reaches across the table to take Martin’s hand. “I mean, you were born five minutes before midnight. It wouldn’t be a lie so much as a… slight shifting of the truth.”

“Jonathan Sims.” Martin gapes across the table at him. “Are you suggesting we lie to our daughter?”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No, Martin,” Jon says again, “I’m simply suggesting we separate your birthday from Halloween, as we have done every year, and not draw attention to the fact because our daughter is currently obsessed with other peoples’ birthdays.”

“And it might upset her if she knew we were actually celebrating on the wrong day.”

“Exactly.”

Martin sighs. “I don’t know. It feels… sort of wrong.”

“Apparently, children under the age of seven have no concept of the passing of time and—”

“Did Tim tell you that?”

“No.”

“Oh, god. It wasn’t Helen, was it? Please tell me you haven’t been having philosophical discussions about parenting with Helen again.”

“Martin,” Jon interrupts, “It was in the parenting book you gave me.”

“Huh. I don’t remember that chapter. Oh, god, maybe I should re-read it. The whole thing. Beginning to end. I—”

“Martin.” Jon squeezes his hand. “You deserve a day of your own. Tim and Sasha already agreed to take Emma trick-or-treating on Halloween. She will be focused on that for most of the day; she’s already talking about how excited she is. Let us spend the day after that treating you to all the wonderful things you deserve on your birthday—and every day.”

Martin manages a small smile, although every instinct inside of him is telling him not to accept Jon’s proposal. Not because he is worried about the ethics of manipulating their daughter’s concept of time—although this is a concern, too—but because he doesn’t want Jon to feel like he has to do any of this. To make a whole day about him, even if he takes great pleasure and care in doing the same for Jon on his birthday.

“Thanks, Jon,” Martin murmurs.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Now, why don’t you go and have a warm shower? I’ve put the hot water on so it shouldn’t run out while you’re in there this time.”

Martin smirks. “Are you saying I smell?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Martin presses, teasing now. “Because I did have to treat a farmer who’d been kicked by one of his cows this evening.”

“Okay, alright, yes. Yes, you smell. Please go and have a shower.”

Martin laughs and gets up from the table. “I’m going, I’m going.”

“That really is disgusting, Martin.”

“It’s actually a pretty funny story. About the farmer, I mean. He’s fine, by the way. I’ll tell you about it when I’m out of the shower.”

Jon shakes his head. “Why today, of all days, have you abandoned the notion of showering before you sit down at the dinner table?”

“I had something important to tell you!”

“Fine. Alright.” Jon shakes his head again. “Now please have a shower. For your sake as much as mine.”

“Love you,” Martin sing-songs as he exits the kitchen. He hears Jon’s gentle laugh chase him into the warmth of the bathroom, where Jon has put on the radiator and left him a fresh towel. He smiles, feeling his love for Jon balloon in his chest, and settles into the sensation being home.

Martin’s Halloween—and birthday—shift is so busy that he barely has time to check his phone. Tim has sent an album of photos of him, Sasha and Emma out trick-or-treating, dressed as Mike, Sulley and Boo from Monsters, Inc. Jon has been updating him on the number of trick-or-treaters who have visited their house (fifty-four, as of ten thirty p.m.), and how Iris and the cats are holding up with the constant ringing of the doorbell.

On his break, Martin quickly texts Tim to watch his glucose levels and not to forget his insulin (to which Tim replies yes, sir with a number of yellow heart emojis). He also texts Sasha to say she can take home any of the Skittles they get on their expedition, since they’re her favourite but Emma hates them. He tells Jon he loves him and to give Iris a pet on his behalf and that there’s some spare sweets under the sink, if they’re running low. Then it’s back to work.

The shift passes quickly, in the end. There is so much to do and no time to think about anything other than their patients. He does get given a toffee apple by someone dressed as a Minion at a student house party, and he narrowly avoids getting his face painted by twins who are the same age as Emma while his team are checking their mother’s twisted ankle after a fall trying to get to the door in time for a last-minute delivery of sweets. It’s not an awful shift, but it is, like always, exhausting and difficult in the same measure as it’s rewarding and hopeful.

By the time he gets home, all he wants to do is sleep. Emma is tucked into bed, fast asleep, while her nightlight projects solar systems onto the ceiling. Jon, too, is sleeping soundly with the cats for company. Iris barely looks up from her bed when he comes inside, but she gives a little wag of her tail each time he passes down the hallway to shower or get a drink of water. There’s a plastic pumpkin full of Emma’s sweets on the table, next to the empty bowl that had once been full of treats to hand out to their visitors.

Martin’s smiles—it looks like a night well-spent for his family—and this thought carries him through an exhausted shower before he crawls into bed next to Jon. Jon must be tired, too, because he doesn’t stir. Martin makes a mental note to check his joints aren’t playing up from all the getting up and down from the sofa during the trick-or-treat visits.

Sometime later, Martin wakes to the soft click of the door as it opens. He squints against the light bursting around the edges of the still-shut curtains, expecting to see Jon tiptoeing to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Instead, Emma is creeping inside, holding a tray of pancakes while Jon follows behind, balancing two cups of tea.

“Happy birthday!” Emma says, as she places the tray down on the bed next to Martin. “We made spooky pancakes!”

Martin rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up fully. He glances at the alarm clock next to the bed: 11:42 a.m. He’s been asleep for just over six hours, but it somehow feels longer and yet not enough. “It’s not—”

Jon clears his throat.

“Oh. Oh, thank you, Emma! These are wonderful.”

The pancakes are, indeed, spooky. Emma has used a pumpkin cookie cutter to shape them and then drawn on funny faces with fruit and syrup. No longer responsible for balancing the tray, Emma looks at Jon, a little uncertain, and Jon nods in encouragement as he places their cups of tea down on the bedside table.

“I made you a present,” Emma says almost shyly.

Martin smiles gently at her. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Emma.”

Emma pulls something off the tray. It’s the second notebook, the one Martin thought he’d imagined, wrapped in a glittery silver ribbon and some confetti streamers. She offers it to Martin, and he takes it carefully, holding it as if it might fall apart in his hands.

“You can open it,” Emma tells him seriously.

Martin unwraps the ribbon. Emma takes it from him, along with the confetti, perhaps to reuse for another present. Slowly, Martin cracks open the notebook to the first page. There is Georgie’s ghoulish sketch, alongside a new inscription in Emma’s handwriting: Sorted Poems By Emma K. Blackwood-Sims. For Daddy’s Birthday. October 31.

Martin feels something tender and soft unfurl in his chest, until he’s certain he is going to cry. He begins to flick through the pages, but Emma says: “Wait!”

Martin stops. “What is it?”

“Look.” Emma climbs on to the bed, elbowing her way into the space next to him, and reaches across Martin to open the notebook on the first page again, where her inscription is. She points at her name.

“It’s meant to say assorted poems,” Jon says, “But neither of us were sure how to spell it.”

Martin laughs, the sound a little wet and shaky with the tears he can feel building. Jon hates spelling. It’s his least favourite type of homework to help Emma with.

“Look,” Emma says again, “I wrote my name like yours!”

Martin smiles. “Blackwood-Sims? But that’s your name, too.”

“No,” Emma insists, “Emma K Blackwood-Sims. Like you! Like a proper poet.”

“Oh,” Martin murmurs, “Oh.”

He’s sure he and Jon will laugh about this later. Martin doesn’t actually have a middle name. Emma does, but it certainly doesn’t begin with K. But right now, he feels tears on his cheeks as he takes in his daughter’s hard work.

Emma reaches for his face, patting away his tears with the palms of her hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise,” Martin replies, sniffling in an attempt to draw back the tears, “I’m happy. And I love you so, so much.”

Emma frowns. “Will pancakes make you feel better?”

“I’m alright, Emma. I promise. These are happy tears.”

“Pancakes always make me feel better,” Jon announces, climbing onto the other side of the bed and sliding back underneath the covers. He settles Emma down in the middle of them, handing her a mug full of juice. She doesn’t drink tea yet, but she doesn’t like to be left out when they do, so she has her own mug.

“These look wonderful,” Martin tells them, arranging the tray so they can all reach. Emma takes a plate and hands it to Jon, then does the same for Martin, before grabbing the final one for herself. “You’re getting very good at pancakes.”

“Baba said we can learn French toast next,” Emma says.

“Wow. That’s big.”

Emma nods. “It’s more difficult than normal toast.”

Martin chuckles. “It certainly is.”

They distribute the pumpkin-shaped pancakes between them. While they eat in bed, they tell each other stories about their Halloween night. Jon talks about the costumes of the people who visited their house, how many compliments they got on their pumpkin carving skills. Emma narrates her trick-or-treating adventure with Tim and Sasha. Martin shares the safest tales of his nightshift, the funny costumes he saw and the extravagant decorations at the parties they visited.

Martin is exhausted again by the time they’ve finished the pancakes. Jon insists on taking their empty plates back to the kitchen and making them another cup of tea, while Emma snuggles against Martin’s side. She rests her head on his shoulder.

“I know it’s not your birthday, Daddy,” Emma whispers.

Half-asleep until now, Martin grunts himself awake. “What was that, sweetheart?”

“I know it’s not really your birthday,” Emma tells him, not moving from where she’s clinging to his arm, “Your birthday was yesterday. On Halloween.”

“Oh, Emma, we—”

“It’s okay,” Emma says, “It’s like when we had a party on Saturday even though my birthday was on Wednesday because I had school.”

“Yeah.” Martin stokes his hand through Emma’s hair. “It is a bit like that.”

“I still get to say happy birthday.”

“You do.”

“But can we have a party on the right day next year?” Emma asks.

“For your birthday?”

“No, for your birthday.”

“Oh.” Martin laughs. “Yes. It might not be a party, if I have to work again, but we can do this. This is lovely. Thank you for being so thoughtful. And I’m excited to read your poems.”

“Baba said they were good.”

“Well, that’s high praise indeed.”

“It was fun.”

“That’s good. That’s what matters most when you make things.“

Emma wriggles around until she’s grinning up at him. “Can I read your poems now?”

Martin sighs, barely supressing a laugh. This isn’t the first time she’s asked. “Emma.”

She sticks her bottom lip out, pouting in a way that breaks Martin’s heart to the point where he can never turn her down when she’s looking at him like this. “Please.”

“Alright,” Martin gives in, “I’ll read you one tonight. Before bed.”

“Yay!” Emma’s grin grows even wider. "Thank you, Daddy.”

“Thank you. And I love you very, very much.”

“Love you, too.”

They settle back down. Martin dozes a little again, a smile on his face, as he thinks about telling Jon later that their daughter very much does understand the concept of time. There really are some things parenting books don’t prepare you for—like the way his love seems to grow with each day he gets with Emma and Jon, even when he thinks it’s impossible, that he already loves them more than any person can.

Some things are gifts even when they are not given as such, and Martin is beginning to allow himself to think of his life with his daughter and his husband as one. He didn’t ask for it with words or lists. He doesn’t know, even now, if he deserves it. But it’s his. And he will treasure it always.

Not featured: Martin realising what he’s agreed to and frantically trying to find a non-angsty poem he can read to his five-year-old daughter. Jon thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #emma #SDSFLSKFLKJFA AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #HANNAH HANNAH I LOVE THIS SOOOO MUCH #I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WROTE THIS OH MY GOD #this is so incredibly special to me I don't even know how to express it #oh my god this is so sweet and I loved every second of it #oh my friend #thank you so much #i love the way you write martin as ALWAYS #and Emma is so sweet here oh my goodness!!!!!#she takes after her dad by caring about other people's birthdays like that #i loved the way you talked about how exhausted he feels after working night shifts #and the lovely little moment where they're talking quietly in the kitchen #martin's musings about not deserving this #and feeling selfish for being so tired on jon's birthday #oh my god i can'ttttttt #i love this so much i'm gonna read it 8000 times #hannah you are fantastically talented #and such an incredibly kind soul #i truly wish we were not an ocean apart!!!#thank you for all the wonderful joy and kindness you bring to the world #you are so very loved #THANK YOU!!!!!!#<3 <3 <3 #submission

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