#i’ve spent like all my waking hours in the past two days with my headphones in

[cowboycunt]

see but what they don’t tell you is that too much media at once will actually make reality seem super thin and perhaps isn’t the best for you. or so i’ve heard.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Finding Love (L.F)

Warnings : like one swear word, mentions of divorce, reader doesn’t believe in love

Word Count : 2891

Synopsis : her best friend set her up on 7 dates for a project he called “finding love”, but none of the guys made her heart flutter the way he does. 

“Okay, so there’s just some final questions you have to answer.” I nodded, barely looking at my best friend, thinking about the conversation I had with his professor just a few days prior.

           “I hope Felix’s grade won’t suffer because I didn’t find love with this project.” I told her. “He worked really hard, picking out 7 different guys he thought would compliment me well. And they were all lovely, but Miss, I just don’t believe in love. I tried because I don’t want Felix to fail, but none of them sparked anything in me.”

           “Y/N, Felix’s grade will not suffer just because you didn’t find love, though I don’t think that’s true. Forgive me if I cross a line, but I believe you already found love before this project began, but you’re scared. For you, love has always equaled loss, and this person is someone you could never lose, so you refuse to love them. Think about it for a minute.”

           “Felix is my best friend.” I countered and watched as she smiled.

           “I never said it was him.” I just stared at her, going through her words again. “Think about it, Y/N. Love isn’t as scary as it seems.”

           “Did you enjoy the dates you went on?” I met his eyes, pretending like I was listening the whole time. I nodded and watched as he wrote my answer down. “Let’s go through each of the dates and then continue the rest of the questions.” Again I nodded as Felix set the papers down and focused all his attention on me.

           Chan was the first guy I went on a date with for Felix’s project. He picked me up and I felt comfortable with him as soon as I opened the door. He greeted me with a warm smile and an awkward laugh as he stumbled over his introduction.  

           We ended up at his place, ordering some food and watching dumb romcoms on Netflix. The two of us laughed at the over-the-top cringey moments, and at some point, we fell asleep. I don’t remember falling asleep, I just remember waking up some time later, wrapped up in Chan’s arms with him still asleep.

           It was an enjoyable date, something very lowkey, but there was no spark. It felt more like a hang out than a date.

           “Did you just leave while he was sleeping?” Felix asked with a chuckle.

           “No! Of course not!” I countered, laughing at how ridiculous that would be. “I woke him up and he walked me home.” Felix nodded, urging me to go on.

           Minho was next, and at first he seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else, but he quickly opened up. “I figured since it was a nice day, we could have a picnic.” He told me with a smile as he walked towards the park.

           It was really relaxing. We just sat on the blanket he brought, munching on the food he made while getting to know each other. He told me about his family and his friends, what he was studying, and what he hoped to accomplish in life. If I’m honest, I could listen to Minho talk about his dreams for hours and not get bored.

           When he asked me about myself, it was like I drew a blank. The only stories I could come up with were all about Felix. How we met, how we agreed to attend the same college so we wouldn’t be separated, how he is the only person I’d ever need in my life.

           “You talked about me?”

           “You seem surprised.” I laughed. “You already know you’re my favourite person. Of course I’m going to talk about you.”

           “Look at you being cute.” I felt the heat rise to my cheeks at the compliment, something that didn’t happen with the guys I went on dates with. Sure, they complimented me, and I was flattered, but they didn’t seem to effect me the way Felix does. “Continue!”

           To me, the date with Minho was the most intimate. It’s the one that felt the most like a date. But again, the spark wasn’t there.

           Changbin was the third, and I must say I was surprised. I’ve heard the rumours about him around the school, so when he took me to the planetarium, I was rather surprised. “Felix said you were into astronomy.” I smiled so wide when we got inside and the show began. I spouted off random facts I knew to Changbin who seemed really interested in what I had to say. He listened to every word I said, and even spouted off some of his own facts.

           It was like running into an old friend, someone you haven’t seen in years but missed dearly. We clicked immediately and it felt like finding a safe place. For a minute I wondered if this is what people were talking about when they found their soulmates. But the longer I spent with Changbin, the more I realized that the connection I was feeling was purely platonic, on both ends. He’s definitely someone I see in my future, but only as a friend.

           “Hey, at least we’re getting somewhere!” Felix explained. “For a whole minute you thought he could be it!” I laughed at how excited Felix seemed, but my heart seemed to fall to my stomach. Why was he so focused on me finding love? Why does he seem excited to see if I fell for one of the guys he set me up with? “Keep going! 3 down, 4 to go!” He smiled at me, and I felt butterflies erupt in my stomach. No. No that’s not right. I must have eaten something weird.

           Hyunjin took me to an escape room. I’d always wanted to do one but was always scared. Hyunjin didn’t really give me a choice, telling me I would have loads of fun. So, we went. Unfortunately, he chose one of the hardest rooms they offered, thinking we were smart enough to escape.

           It was fun looking around different rooms, trying to find the clues to escape. He was really easy to work with, and though we didn’t escape, we made it pretty far. We then grabbed some ice cream and just walked around, learning more about each other, and complaining about how difficult the room was. “You know, if I wasn’t so distracted by how pretty you looked, we totally could have escaped!”

           “Oh so you’re saying it’s my fault?” I giggled, taking another bite of my ice cream.

           “It is! But it’s okay, I forgive you.” He smiled as he stole a bite of my ice cream.

           “Yah!” I screamed before quickly stealing a bite from his and sticking my tongue out at him.

           “You’re lucky you’re cute.” We parted ways soon after, but I had a smile on my face the rest of the day. It was really fun and something I wasn’t expecting from these dates.

           “Would you go out with Hyunjin again?” I shook my head and Felix’s wide smile seemed to faulter. “Well moving on then!”

           The date with Jisung was the most cliché, but it was still a lot of fun! We went to the amusement park and spent the day riding all the rides and even trying our hand at the different games. I’m fairly sure I ate my weight in sweets that day, but Jisung didn’t judge, and honestly ate more than I did.

           I was nervous at first, but I was quick to fall out of that and just be myself. Jisung is someone that makes you feel comfortable being whatever kind of person you are.

           As the sun set, we finished the day off on the ferris wheel. Super cliché, but it was really cute how excited he was. So I followed him onto the ferris wheel and took in just how beautiful the amusement park looked at night time, with all the lights on and couples walking around hand in hand.

           He walked me right up to my front door and told me to have a good night. I watched as he walked away out of sight before heading inside. My feet were aching, but I couldn’t stop the smile from forming.

           “Let me guess. Still no spark?”

           “No spark.”

           “Well okay, date number 6!”

           Seungmin took me to the aquarium, and it was so much prettier than I remembered. The last time I was there, my parents took me and my older brother. I remember looking at all the pretty colours, in awe of just how pretty the fish looked.

           This time around, though I was still in awe at how pretty everything was, I was more focused on watching the little kids run around in amazement, wondering if that’s what my brother and I looked like to the adults when we came.

           Seungmin seemed really nervous the whole time, barely saying a word and instead leaving most of the talking up to me. But he didn’t seem annoyed, instead he seemed intrigued by all my stories. He shared a couple of his favourite memories about the aquarium and told me why it was his favourite place. “Let me take a picture of you!” I exclaimed at one point. “To add to your memories at your favourite place.” I think that was the moment I first saw him smile wide. It was so precious, and I would have done almost anything to see it again.

           “Oh so you’ll go to the aquarium with Seungmin but not me!?” Felix pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.

           “Yah! It was your idea that I go on these dates!” He continued to pout. “Okay fine. Let’s go to the aquarium sometime.” He smiled wide, uncrossing his arms and clapping. “You are probably the weirdest person I know.”

           “But you love me!” More than I think both of us realized. “But enough about us, what about date number 7.”

           The date with Jeongin was the most unexpected as he took me to the library. We picked out a book for the other to read, found somewhere secluded to sit, and began to read. At some point, he handed me a headphone, and we listened to music together as we quietly read.

           Every once in a while, he would do or say something that would make me laugh. It’s like he made it his mission to make me laugh as loud as possible and get us kicked out. It worked, by the way. I have no idea what he said, but I couldn’t contain my laughter, and the two of us got kicked out.

           We ended up at a quiet café just down the block and just talked. We talked about the book we were reading, about school, friends, family, past, aspirations for the future. He was the easiest to open up to. He never looked at me with a look of pity, the way others do when they find out my tragic past, and instead made a joke to lighten up the mood.

           I think I spent the longest time with Jeongin. We just kept telling stories and laughing and before we knew it, the barista was coming up to us to tell us they were closing. Neither of us even noticed it was dark out.

           “So it seems like all 7 dates were successful in one way or another.”

           “I suppose you could say that.” His professor’s words kept ringing in my mind. My whole life, I’ve believed love was something just in books and movies. I would see the couples on campus claiming to be in love, just to break up later.

           I watched my parents argue every single day before divorcing. I watched my brother fall head over heels in love with a girl who played with his feelings. A part of me wanted someone to come along and change my views on love. Show me that love can be a beautiful thing. Falling in love was a risk, and I just wanted someone to be worth the risk.

           And as I sat beside my best friend, recounting the seven dates he set me up on, I was hit with the realization that I found my person a long time ago. Felix was the person I turned to when I needed a shoulder to cry on, he was the first person I wanted to tell all good news to. When I pictured my future, he’s right there beside me.

           He was right in front of me this entire time, and I just refused to believe it. As much as I hate to admit it, his professor was right. To me, love has always equaled loss. You love someone, you lose them. Felix is the only person in my life I couldn’t lose. It would be like losing a piece of me.

           “So out of the seven of them, is there someone you’d consider going out with again?” Felix picked up his papers he previously set down on the table, no longer looking at me.

           “No.” I answered simply, completely coming to terms with the fact that I’m in love with my best friend. “They’re great guys, but I think I know someone better.” I smiled, looking down at my hands clasped in my lap.

           “You do?” Suddenly, the project he’s been working so hard on was forgotten. He looked at me, and I looked right back, admiring his soft features. I guess a part of me always knew he was the one for me, it was just waiting for the rest of me to catch up.

           “I do.” I responded, my voice barely above a whisper. “He’s the best person I know. And honestly, he’s the only person I’d consider going on a second date with.”

           “Did you go on a date I didn’t know of?” He asked, looking through all of his notes, trying to see if maybe he had missed something. Maybe he had set you up with 8 people but forgot. But there was only one name in his notes that could be a possible 8th date. A name he wrote down in case one of the others turned down this experiment. A name surrounded by question marks; his own.

           “Why is your name written down?” I asked, pointing at the notes he was looking through. “I think I’d remember going on a date with you.” I giggled, looking up at him.

           “Oh, I was just a back up. In case one of the others fell through.” I nodded, coming to that conclusion myself. But the thought of going on a date with him gave me butterflies.

           “I think for the sake of the experiment, you should see if you could be the one to prove me wrong.” He stared at me with wide eyes, obviously wondering what was going through my head. “I mean, you do know me the best. I think if you tried you could win me over.”

           “The project specifically said 7, Y/N.” I slumped back in my seat.

           “Unfortunate. Well I guess we could go on a date just because.”

           “What?” I let out a small laugh at his bewildered expression before sitting up in my seat, leaning closer to him.

           “I’m asking you out.” The words didn’t seem to register in his brain, so I continued. “I talked to your professor, and she opened my eyes. She told me that for me, love always equaled loss, so I never let myself fall in love, especially with you. Because, you’re the one person I can’t lose.” I watched as his expression changed as the words registered.

           “Are you confessing to me right now?” I chuckled as I nodded.

           “Yeah I am. I’m confessing to you right now, Felix.”

           “Holy shit.” I couldn’t help but let out another laugh. “So you’re telling me that you went on seven different dates with the seven biggest heartthrobs of our school, but you’re in love with me?” I nodded, my confidence slowly fading the longer this conversation continues. Honestly, I’m not sure why I confessed. There’s never been a moment in our years of friendship where I thought Felix could have feelings for me. There was just a part of me screaming to let him know, to confess. “Forget the project, I’m taking you out right now.” He said while throwing his papers over his shoulder.

           “Felix!” I exclaimed while laughing, looking at him now standing.

           “What? I’ve been waiting years for this! The project can wait. Right now, I’m taking the love of my life out on our first date.” I couldn’t help the smile that formed as I took his hand. His project was long forgotten as the two of us went out and did all the things we did as friends, but now there was more hand holding and a lot more kisses.

           Love isn’t as scary as it seems. With the right person, love is beautiful. And though Y/N didn’t find love with the 7 boys I set her up with, she found love. A love that at first terrified her but made her happy at the same time. Falling in love is a risk, but it’s a risk she’s finally willing to take. And as the person she fell in love with, I hereby promise to never make her regret taking that risk.

[dancingamongstdust]

Old Habits (Warren Worthington x Reader)

So I was digging around in my old files and I found this from a few years ago. I’m sure I published it somewhere once but I have no idea where. Either way, the writing isn’t too bad so I thought some readers here may enjoy it. 

Before, when you originally met Warren, you had never had an issue with reaching out and grabbing his wings if he tried to march away from you. It had become a habit.

There would be an argument over something inconsequential and both of you would scream and shout like children. Warren would realise that his temper was getting out of control and try to stalk away from the fight before it got out of control. You would snatch a fistful of his feathers or the edge of a wing; anything that was within range was ample gain. It never hurt him but he stopped moving due to the sensation. Then he would turn around and kiss you until your lips were bruised and you couldn’t breathe properly.

This time…

You had been eternally grateful to Charles Xavier for bringing Warren back despite all his previous actions and your heart belonged to whoever had saved his life. When you had seen him walking through that portal, you had sold yourself on the notion that you would never be seeing him again. A bitter reality without the white angel wings that you had spent hours wrapped in.

The fight had been inconsequential really. Something about his sulking and yelling at anybody who tried to get close to him.

But now you withdrew your hand as quickly as you reached out.

Warren still spun around to look, the metal feathers screeching against the walls as he did so. Instead of kissing you, his eyes fell on your bloody hand and he reached for it with tentative hands. “I…” his words died in his throat.

You met his eyes with a clouded expression and sighed. “Sorry,” you said. “I forgot…” Your eyes fell on the huge metal wings and you sighed. “I didn’t think that through. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Warren said. “No, you shouldn’t have had to think about it in first place.” Unlike the feathered version, these wings made a horrendous noise when they bristled and even he winced at the sound. “Just go and get somebody to look at that.” And he stormed back into his temporary room, slamming the door far too loudly behind him.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. Charles had approached you to see if you could possibly fix the situation and maybe convince Warren to relax a little more in the mansion. His end goal obviously being to offer the angelic mutant a permanent place to stay.

Stomach churning, you hurried down the stairs to the nearest mutant that could heal your hand or at least somebody who knew basic medical skills.

Two stitches and a little bit of healing later, you were sitting in your own room and staring down at your bandages. While you had been standing up there, it hadn’t hurt at all but now it was burning like fire. You rubbed it gently and sighed. Warren had always been self-sabotaging. At this point, shutting you out could almost be classified as a hobby of his.

So eventually – at an hour that any reasonable person would be asleep at – you climbed out of bed and marched over to the room to quiet your wailing mind. If you didn’t know Warren’s self-destructive tendencies you would have presumed it was too late.

But you had lived with the man before.

You didn’t bother knocking. You knew that Warren would have pretended he didn’t hear you. So you counted on him forgetting – or purposefully – not locking the door.

“I’m tired of this,” you said when Warren finally noticed you and removed the headphones that were blaring rock music so loudly that you could hear them from across the room. You walked over and sat on an untouched desk, watching the winged mutant carefully. “Every day, you make me sit and watch you turn all that anger and hatred inwardly and I can’t do anything about it. I feel useless when it comes to you. Like there’s nothing I can do to help.”

“Help?” he scoffed. “Help what?”

“You.”

He rolled his eyes and sat up on the bed, those metal feathers screaming a symphony as they were dragged across the wall. “I don’t need your help,” he said. He glanced at your bandaged hand. “Look what happens when you try. I’m fine. They said that my feathered wings will grow back soon and then I’ll be able to get as far away from this fucking place as possible.”

“I want to stay.”

“Then stay.”

You gave a forced laugh. “And here I thought you knew me well enough to know that there isn’t a chance that you would leave without me following.”

Warren crossed his arms and his wings puffed up as he attempted to become more intimidating. It would work on most people. Not you. “Nobody likes codependent twits,” he grumbled. “But then again, it’s not my problem if you want to chase me around the country like some lost poodle. If you get killed, I don’t want anybody blaming it for me.”

“It’s not… alright, no, I’m not rising to that,” you said firmly. “No matter how often you insult me, I’m not going to leave and you know that by now. Warren, won’t you at least consider staying here? There are others who –“

“Joined forces with an ancient evil and attempted to bring about the end of the world because they were offered shiny wings then almost died and had to be saved by their enemy out of pity. Just so many of those assholes running around that I can barely even walk without seeing one.” His hair was falling into his face now but he didn’t seem interested in doing anything about it. “But they don’t count if they switched sides during the actual battle.”

“You were unconscious the majority of the battle.”

“Thank you for reminding me. I wasn’t aware.”

You sighed and reached out to move his hair away from his eyes. It said something that he didn’t move away despite the glare he was sending in your direction. “Wouldn’t you prefer to be able to rest for a little while until you got back onto your feet?” you asked. “I’ve been talking to some of the people here and they’re all friendly if you give them a chance.”

“I don’t see any weapons attached to your back that are constantly hurting people you actually care about,” he noted.

“My hand was my own fault,” you repeated. You stood up and moved closer, reaching the uninjured hand past his head and resting it gently on the metal of his feathers. “See? I’m being careful now and it’s not getting me hurt. If I had taken a few more seconds to think it through, I wouldn’t have grabbed your wing out of habit. But you said they’ll go back to being normal soon.”

“Apparently,” he said. “Some of them have fallen off but they’re meant to do that. What would you do if they stayed metal? You’d have to start finding your own beds instead of curling up next to me constantly. Something tells me you won’t find these wings ‘comforting���.”

A phrase you had always used when speaking about his wings and it hurt to hear him spit it with such bitterness in his tone. It had always been something genuine to you. “They probably won’t keep me as warm as the normal feathers,” you admitted. “But I don’t doubt that I could grow used to them and love them as much as I adored the originals.”

He scoffed. “Always a fucking optimist. Even when I have tattoos that probably will never fade etched into my face.”

“I’m not always an optimist,” you said. “When you disappeared into that cage fighting thing for months without telling me and then came back with your wing fried to a crisp, I was so worried that I thought I would vomit. I lost countless hours due to nightmares about waking up and finding you dead or missing again.”

“And then you did.”

“I was too late,” you said. “No matter what you said, I knew that your wings were making you distressed and I wanted to help but I didn’t know how. If I had figured out how to fix things sooner then there wouldn’t have been a reason for you to go with that asshole.”

Warren just glared at you and then flicked his bedside lamp off and lay down on his side. It used to hurt his wings when he slept like that but you were unsure that the metal felt anything. Either way, you lay your hand on his shoulder temporarily and then took the hint to leave the room. There was nothing else for you to say or do.

Almost a week passed where you only opened the door to throw random food and drink items at Warren where he was pretending to be asleep. Sometimes he would mumble something and other times he would continue to ignore you. You took the bandage off a few days later. It was something Warren undoubtedly noticed but he didn’t say anything until the day you opened the door to find everything strewn across the floor in such a state of disarray that you flinched.

“What’s the problem?” you asked.

Warren glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and muttered something about not having any shirts that weren’t torn to shreds by his new wings. Which later led to you going shopping and returning with a bunch of new shirts with cuts in the back for the new wings. It took you a while and he grumbled under his breath when you dumped them on the floor but you didn’t say anything.

The charade continued day in and day out but you weren’t deterred. You waited patiently for Warren with a well-learned routine. This had happened many times before. A waiting game that you had perfected over many years of worrying about the angelic mutant who held so much of your attention and your heart.

You walked through the door with a milkshake in hand when he was busy plucking the metal feathers off his wings. Silently, you placed it down and settled cross-legged behind him on the bed to help him peel off the shedding metal over the unreachable areas.

It came off easily and you happily spotted some of the soft, white feathers peeking out from beneath the metal. You ran your fingers happily over it and smiled. They would be returning soon.

“You’re going to need to preen these daily while they’re growing out,” you said. You didn’t expect an answer but you said it with the knowledge that you would be the one to do it. “Otherwise they’re going to be crooked and then you won’t be able to fly properly.”

Warren’s feathers fluttered slightly as he turned around to face you. They didn’t sound quite as horrible when they brushed against the wall now and there were fewer grooves than before. Deep scratch marks already tore up the bedframe and one of the bedside lamps had disappeared a week ago. “Just leave.”

“Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Why do you bother?”

Your fingers brushed the doorknob and you shrugged. “It’s just force of habit now.”

[lucy90712]

Georgenotfound- cooking stream

wc- 1920

~ George woke me up this morning at around 9am which is unusual for him he is never up at this time let alone waking me up for anything other than for me to join his stream. I knew exactly why he was waking me up as well because today he is doing a cooking stream and he wanted my help.

We had already rented an airbnb so that people couldn't work out where we lived and now today we had to get ingredients and move his set up over to the airbnb for the stream. I told George to decide what he wanted to make and I would look up recipes and make a list of ingredients because I just knew that he would do something wrong and the stream would turn out awful, I also had a backup plan that I haven't told George about just incase things go south.

I was still recovering from my sleeping state when the warm covers were ripped off my body and I was pulled forcefully from the comfortable mattress underneath me by my own boyfriend. What a traitor. He dragged me somewhere else in the house I wasn't quite sure where because my eyes were still adjusting to being open and needing to be used but I soon worked out we were in the kitchen and George was getting breakfast for the both of us.

"You know you could have just asked me to get up instead of dragging me out of bed" I said

"I know but thats no fun and plus I never get to wake you up so I thought I'd have fun with it" he replied

Classic George. Any chance he gets he will try and annoy me or make fun of me for some reason but I love me him so I deal with it. He got two bowls from the cupboard and poured cereal into them as well as some milk and giving me one of the bowls without a spoon but I moved past that after all it was early morning and George doesn't function at that time.

I went into the cutlery draw and got two spoons for us because George had yet to realise he was going to have to eat his cereal with his hands. I found him sat at the table that we have looking around clearly wondering where he had put the spoon he was sure he had grabbed.

I decided to play a little bit of a prank on him by putting his spoon somewhere random in the room and sat down with mine to make him even more concerned. He looked at me and the look on his face was priceless he was so bamboozled about what he'd done.

"Are you alright?" I asked

"No I can't remember where I put my spoon" he said

"Wow you really aren't a morning person are you" I said

He looked at me as I got up and walked over to where I put the spoon and grabbed it giving it to him.

"Did I seriously put it over there?" He asked

"No you never even got them out the draw so I'll let you decided if thats better or worse" I said

We ate breakfast together before George went to shower and I got dressed for the day because I showered last night. George had told me that he got outfits for us for the actual stream so I didn't bother getting dressed up in any way I just put on some leggings and one of George's hoodies that I took from his wardrobe. Sometimes he gets annoyed at me when I steal his favourite hoodies but this one is one of his many versions of his merch so he won't be too annoyed at me.

George came out the shower as I was doing my makeup and he grabbed his grey merch hoodie that he wears all the time so we would be matching today. He didn't seem to notice at first but as soon as he was ready he came over to sit with me as I finished off my makeup like he often does and that was when he properly looked at me.

"Did you steal my hoodie?" He asked

"Yes I did what are you going to do about it?" I said

"Nothing because you look cute in it" he said

I smiled at him and he took my hand to take me out the door to go to the shops and get everything that he needed for his stream. George never let go of my hand the whole car ride and the whole time at the shops, he can be very affectionate when he wants to be like some days he won't want to let go of me and other days he will be so consumed with work that we barely talk. Today's stream is going to be difficult if he's this attached to me but we'll work it out.

While getting all of the things we needed someone came up to George while I was further up the isle getting the right spices. George can get kind of awkward around fans in real life but then he gets even more nervous when he's with me even though the fans know he just finds it weird for people to see us out together.

I left him to talk to the fan and just looked at the wall of various spices that really meant nothing to me but I didn't want George to feel too awkward. That was until I looked over and he had a look of desperation so I walked over to him and he put his arm around my waist, he squeezed me slightly for reassurance. He used me as an excuse to stop the conversation he was having and the fan left us alone.

He told me all about the interaction and said it was super awkward because they didn't really know who he was just recognised him and was asking all sorts of personal questions he wasn't comfortable answering.

After leaving the shop we went home to get most of George's set up before heading to the air bnb to set everything up ready for later. George went into the house while I sat in the car mainly because he said he didn't need my help.

We spent a good few hours setting everything up and starting testing streams to see if everything was working and if camera angles were good. Once it was all ready George went to get the outfits he had brought for us, he handed me mine and I went to put it on. He had got me a proper chef top with buttons and everything and some black leggings to wear with it as well as a chef hat of course.

George started his stream without me so that I could watch it just incase something had broken in the time between when we finished setting it up and now. When I decided that everything was working fine I went into the kitchen to go and join him and get this thing started.

"Chat we also have a special guest this stream" he said

I walked into the view of the camera and the chat started spamming my name and this ship name they have given me and George which kind of doesn't work but they like it so we go with it.

"Hey chat" I said

We got on with cooking and George grabbed what we needed and started preparing things as I read the instructions to him. He did keep getting distracted by various different things and people that were calling him but we managed to do most of it in the end.

First we made mozzarella sticks which was pretty easy and then we moved onto cooking a steak and making chips which wasn't as easy. I offered to cook the steak because I didn't trust George but he wouldn't let me incase I hurt myself which I thought was funny because if anyone was going to get hurt it was him.

Anyway the both of us survived that and frying the mozzarella sticks which was more dangerous and then we got made fun of by Sapnap, dream, bbh and Quackity for calling crepes pancakes even though they are pancakes. (I will not be taking criticism on this) they kept insisting that what we were making wasn't pancakes but we held strong with our argument and won in the end with the help of the British viewers in chat.

When everything was made and we had tried it all we just kind of stood about talking to dream who was the only one left in the call. By now George couldn't bare to be away from me any longer so he put his arm around me and pulled me into his chest, he was not about to let go anytime soon so I gave in and put my head into his chest settling in.

Dream got George to follow his instructions he gave him which involved taking off his hat and headphones then he told him to mess up his hair, as soon as he said this I knew what he was doing and I appreciated it. George always styles his hair when he gets up but I love it when its messy although he never leaves it like that.

George messed up his hair and then went to the sink to get it wet and then messed it up more, he looked so good like that I almost got scared that his stream would see me blushing over just how hot he looked.

"What? I've never seen your hair like that" dream said

"I mean I like your messy hair" I said

"Wait you like it?" George asked

"Yeah of course I do" I said

"Well I guess I'm doing my hair like this from now on" he said

I smiled ruffling up his hair more to make it look exactly how I like it which his chat also appreciated, they were loving this just as much as I was. George ended his stream after like 4 hours making it just past 11pm. We packed up all of George's set up and cleaned the place before starting the drive back home.

By the time we got boys back home I was super tired but I had promised George that I would help him take all of his stuff back inside and set it back up which was going to take a while and I was not looking forward to it.

It took us two hours to set everything back up, I thought I was tired before but now I was exhausted I could barely move I just wanted to be in bed asleep. I tried to get up from my position on the floor but my legs were too weak so George had to pick me up and carry me to our bedroom where he put me down on the bed and chucked a hoodie at my face for me to wear. I got into the covers and pulled them up to just under my chin getting comfy as George got in too placing his arm over me and hugging me from behind which is how we normally sleep. My eyes gradually got heavier as George whispered things into my ear until I couldn't keep them open anymore and sleep took over.

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

Your mess is mine

Sue may only be a math major, but she knows this much about telling a story: it needs to have a beginning, middle, and an end.  

If she were to sit down and write one, here is where it would start — Emily laughs and she falls in love. It doesn’t matter the year, the month, or the minute; when Emily laughs, she falls in love. Sue’s a little slow when these things are concerned, love doesn’t come to her as quickly or as easily as it has historically come to Emily. I saw you in the coffee shop and I knew you were the one, she’s fond of telling Sue, usually during fights. It’s highly annoying that Emily thinks it’d work on her. Even more annoying is the fact that it does. 

Alright, does she have moments of intense déjà vu sometimes? Like when they’re lying in bed, after one of Austin’s house parties, and Sue curls up into Emily’s soft shoulders, plays with her pretty, pretty hands? Or when she catches Emily conked out in front of her laptop in a corner table at the café on her break and gently wakes her up? Sure. But isn’t that what love is? The same five gestures repeated in infinite ways, creating a well of infinite affection. So if walking the steps with Emily settles deep into her bones without flinching, as if they’ve done this before, she’s convinced that it’s because they’re well and truly perfect together. 

(Definitely not because — and this is something that has been occurring to her more and more lately — they were star-crossed lovers in a past life a century ago.) 

(That would be crazy.) 

(Right?) 

***** 

Falling in love aside, Emily can be really, infuriatingly, secretive about the worst of things. Sometimes it is charming, watching her having to pick her way through multiple explanations, create long-winded detours just to attempt to confuse Sue into getting exasperated enough to drop the subject altogether. But that’s at the very end, when it turns out that she was going to all this trouble to make sure Sue wasn’t going to find out she’d gotten her that one Hawaiian shirt Sue had off-handedly admired once, aeons ago. Or that she’s been holed up in their room all day because she’s been setting up lights in honor of it being exactly six months since they first hugged. Which is why she is more resigned that surprised when Lavinia sits down in front of her, leans in, and asks her what she’s doing for Emily’s birthday next week. 

Sue sneaks a look at Emily who is currently chatting with an old lady who usually comes in on the weekends. Her girlfriend happens to be one of those baristas who is beloved by the elderly, God only knows why. All the older ladies will hang back at the counter and tell her all about their grandkids’ schools and ballet recitals. In return, Emily will rant to them about college and apparently, Sue as well, which was something she discovered one day when she walked in and two old ladies gave her teasing yet approving smiles from their table. 

(And then took her aside to whisper — Showing a little skin wouldn’t do any harm and would keep your girl on her toes — which near about killed her)  

The entire situation is hilarious. Also the most adorable thing she has ever seen. 

“Why haven’t you guys discussed your birthdays yet?” 

“It’s just never,” Sue muses, “come up, I guess.” 

Austin rollerblades past, swivels to a stop and bends so he’s approximately level with their faces. “Are we talking about,” he says, lowering his voice to a comical whisper, “Emily’s birthday?” 

Lavinia pulls him down, so he’s sitting on the spare chair. “And Sue’s, apparently. Did you know her birthday falls, like, nine days after Emily’s?” 

Austin stares at her, wide-eyed. “That means it’s on the.... 19th? 

Sue nods. 

“The 19th of December? After Emily’s birthday, on the 10th of December?” 

“Y....es?” 

He swipes at his phone, taps a couple of buttons, and then looks up with a smug smile. “I knew I remembered something. Look.” 

Lavinia has to angle her whole body to see, but it registers for both of them at the same time. A certain poet and her muse, who also apparently shared the same birthday as her and Emily. 

“Huh,” Lavinia says. “Maybe there is something to Emily’s theory after all.” 

“You mean Emily’s theory that we’re the reincarnations of those two?” she asks, hearing her own voice get progressively more hysterical by the word. She clears her throat, takes a deep breath, adds it to the list of rapidly growing coincidences in her head that she’s never going to give a closer look to, because that would be crazy. 

“Really the only part of this I’m genuinely shocked by,” Lavinia says after a long pause, in which Sue is struggling to reason with the logical part of her brain, “is that Austin remembers Emily Dickinson’s birthday.” 

Austin smiles proudly, and the thought is so funny that it drives potential insanity out of her mind eventually. 

***** 

“Why didn’t you tell me your birthday’s tomorrow?” 

Emily startles from where she’s staring out the window of the car, and Sue has about a moment to regret blurting it out before they’re looking at each other. She’d spent the entire week setting up the entire thing for Emily and now it probably won’t even be a surprise, but she’s insanely curious. No better time for it, either way. She’d planned everything perfectly, from picking up Emily at the café in the classy car she’d borrowed from Austin, to making sure it wasn’t too late after dinner. And yet, here they were, surrounded by cars and honking people because traffic was a fickle bitch. 

“Is that why we’re taking this trip?” she asks, wide-eyed. 

Sue extends a hand towards her, ruffles up her hair, feeling fond. Trust her idiot girlfriend to not have figured it out yet. She moves her hand to Emily’s cheek, and feels Emily cover it with her own. Feels a soft kiss pressed against her palm. 

“What did you think it was, dumdum?” 

“Well, it is the three month anniversary of—” Sue’s alarm is probably showing on her face, so she backtracks quickly. “Kidding. Kidding. There’s nothing tomorrow.” 

Sue pinches at her cheek. “Except your birthday. Speaking of which—” 

“Eh,” Emily shakes her head, shuffles around on her seat awkwardly, “it’s.... uh, complicated.” 

“Is the complication that you happen to share a birthday with a poet from long ago?” she’s only half-joking.  

Emily laughs at that. “Caught on, did you? Did you also check—” 

“E-yup.” 

“That your birthday is also—” 

“E-yup,” she says. Then turns to look at Emily. “Wait. How do you know when my birthday is?” 

Emily opens her mouth, but before she can say anything Sue hurriedly cuts in. “And you’re not allowed to say you have your ways.” 

Years ago, when Sue was fourteen, one day her dad and her mom came home with the same vegetable. Same quantity. It was beans, and she could vividly remember all three of them staring down in mock dismay at the two separate huge bundles of beans that now took up most of the space on the table. Then they started comparing prices. Turns out her mother’s bundle had cost a couple cents lesser than her father’s. But it’s not the same , her mother had insisted, holding up both the bundles. See, yours weighs more. I think the grocer I bought it from took some off . 

To this day, she defines love as the way her mother’s hand fell over his, combined with the way her dad looked at her next — like a child who had just been told that the blanket fort he’d spent hours constructing, wasn’t going to be torn down. Like someone had just handed a piece of the world to him, and told him to make of it whatever he wanted.  

Sue recognizes it in the way Emily looks at her. Like she’s saying — Of course. Of course, you know me well enough to guess the next stupid thing that comes out of her mouth. 

(She’s not very good at love, but she hopes Emily can read the answer in her eyes just the same) 

“Birthdays are complicated,” Emily says, slowly. “I’ve had some very good ones and then some very bad ones.” First girlfriend who she asked out on her 20th birthday, and second girlfriend who she broke up with a week before her 23rd; Sue fills in the blanks as she talks. “So I guess I try not to tell people so I myself don’t expect anything out of it. Neutral birthdays are better than euphoric ones or sad ones, because at least they don’t haunt me forever.” 

“Baby,” she says, and then trails off. Sometimes she likes calling Emily endearments, or just say her name out loud, randomly, even if there’s no statement attached to it. The sentiment’s always the same, however. I’m glad you exist. I’m glad you found me. I like your name. I love you.  

(Emily’s fallen asleep by the time she’s driven to the top of the grassy knoll, by the time the clock hits midnight. Sue lets her sleep through it. There will be time to sit on top of the blanket and watch a sleepy Emily blow out the candles on a tiny cake that looks like a typewriter, to stare at the stars all night long while they listen to soft, slow songs on a pair of shared earphones. For now, Sue watches Emily sleep, head tilted against the glass and decides to hold off on telling her she loves her until the day after her birthday. It’s a perfectly neutral birthday. No use in spoiling it.) 

(Emily says it back though, in case anyone was wondering) 

***** 

Sometimes, when Sue sees Emily cooking for her, she loses her breath. 

(And sometimes, it’s not even due to the smoke from a burned dish) 

But there’s something peaceful about watching Emily cook, especially if she hasn’t yet cottoned onto the fact that Sue’s watching her. She’s one of those annoying people who always has their headphones on, so most of her cooking in the kitchen involves perfectly timing the beats with the swipes of her spatula. Sometimes she spins around in the middle of a pancake flip to see if she can catch it in midair. Juvenile shenanigans aside, what really gets Sue, even after almost a year of having watched Emily dance around in the kitchen is the care with which she handles food that they will eat. It’s so different to the kind of food she cooks when she’s just cooking for herself. Sue’s seen her slap on two days expired cheese on top of a tortilla and call it lunch. And yet. 

And yet. Sue will have the best of things. Lasagna that’s still steaming. A sandwich filled with the most delicious ingredients. Waffles topped with cream that Emily will get up early in the morning to get for her. Food enhanced with care, made better with love. 

Why don’t you make those nice things for yourself, she’s asked on multiple occasions, to which Emily’s always shrugged. It’s just me. I can have almost anything. 

(Emily deserves the best. Sue will make sure she has it) 

There are flowers on the table, an assortment of daffodils and lilies arranged on a vase. Right in between two shiny plates laid out with napkins folded carefully beside them. Sue slides into one of the chairs quietly, rests her elbows on the table and waits for Emily to finally turn around. 

There is a panicked scream when she does. Sue doesn’t want to be that girlfriend, but this is definitely going on the list of stories she’ll tell their future kids when they’ve grown. 

(Another day she would worry about how the term — Their kids — moves around in her chest comfortably like a sip of hot cocoa. Today, exactly one year to the day Emily told her she liked her, she shrugs it off) 

“You weren’t supposed to wake up for another half an hour at least.” 

Sue hums. “You did tire me out last night, that is true.” 

“Sue!” Emily says, scandalized, face rapidly turning red. “I — that’s highly — okay wait, first things first....” 

She walks over to the table, and bends to kiss Sue.  

“Happy anniversary.” 

Sue closes her eyes, kisses both her cheeks in response. “Happy anniversary, my love.” 

Emily grins back, then stands again. “Either way,” she says, as she ladles soup onto a bowl, and gathers multiple plates on a tray to subsequently bring to the table, “brunch! Courtesy of your beautiful girlfriend who finally managed to figure out how to make the perfect chicken pot pie without burning down the house, or worse, giving you salmonella.” 

Sue inspects what lies in front of her. “Babe, this looks amazing.” 

Emily looks proud, as she sits on the other chair. “And that’s not all, okay? This is just the start. Today evening I have gotten us both tickets to—” 

“Move in with me.” 

When Emily blinks, Sue startles. The words that had just come out of her mouth definitely weren’t well-thought-out, but now she was thinking about it and it seemed like all she ever wanted in life. To go to sleep with Emily, and wake her up in time for her morning classes, to be able to see her all the time, and not have to watch her go. 

“That wasn’t my gift, by the way,” she adds, speaking fast, thinking of the limited-edition original copies of a book she’d driven five hours to the next town to get. “But it’s what I want. Us. Living together. I love you. We should.... uh, live together so — uh, okay Emily make me stop talking please.” 

Emily shuts her up with a kiss. When they separate, she stays close to Sue, looking right into her eyes with that soft, soft expression.  

“Are you sure?” she asks. 

Sue takes in a deep breath. Nods. “Yeah.” 

Emily considers that for a moment. Then says with a teasing smile — “I thought this violated your relationship rules.” 

“What ae you—” 

“No kissing before the second date. No celebrating six-month anniversaries because that’s for dummies. No moving in before at least two years of dating—” 

“And if you remember correctly,” Sue cuts in, smoothly, “I kissed you two days before our first date. And serenaded you with a Taylor Swift song at the café on our six-month anniversary.” 

“You did do that,” Emily says, quietly. 

“And as long as we’re on the subject, I hate staying up past 11, or listening to sad girl music in the car, or watching that horrendous show about those two annoying men fake-dating,” Sue tells her, “but — it is my greatest honor that I get to do that for you. And with you. Emily, if you haven’t figured it out already, you’re kinda the exception to every single one of my rules.” 

Sue reads Emily’s answer in the kiss she receives next. 

***** 

The middle, the middle, everything boils down to the middle. It’s what Sue sometimes hears Emily muttering to herself in the middle of the night when she has an assignment due the next day. Sue will blink, look over to the desk where Emily is planted with her nightlight on, hands in her hair. Sometimes Sue will keep blinking slowly, taking in the sight of Emily typing until she falls asleep. Sometimes Emily will notice that she’s up, walk over to the bed, and hum snippets of songs until she’s drifting off again.  

And for all the beauty of the beginning, of first kisses and first dates and first times, there’s something to be said about the fifteenth time Emily plays her something on the ukulele, warning her beforehand that her voice might crack. Or the sixtieth burger she runs across the campus to hand over to Emily when she knows she’s got back-to-back classes scheduled. About the hundredth time she falls into bed, and scooches over, eyes closed, until Emily’s wriggling body is aligned against hers. There’s peace in knowing that a first time will inevitably lead to a second time, and then countless others.  

(There’s peace in knowing the middle lasts the longest)   

***** 

She knows she’s in trouble. Has known she’s in trouble the minute she came out of the store and discovered that there was a pileup on the highway. And then when Lavinia called her panicking because their house-warming slash house party was getting out of control because of a lack of beer and a general overabundance of Austin. And then when her phone died in the middle of her conversation with Emily.  

(So much trouble) 

She’s exhausted by the time she makes it back to her apartment (their apartment , she corrects herself, smiling at the thought) and makes her way up the stairs, hearing the volume of the music increase with every step. Opens the door and is assailed with extremes — the tiny sparkling mirror ball someone’s managed to hook up to the ceiling, the dancing crowd in their living room, and a very loud and weirdly on-point Austin making guitar noises on the karaoke microphone. 

“Lavinia!” Sue calls out in relief, when she catches sight of her. “Where’s Emily?” 

Lavinia excuses herself from a group of frat boys hanging onto her every word and walks over. “Sue! Emily!” 

“Yeah, I know! Tell me where she is!” 

Sue points towards the ceiling, and in the same smooth motion, grabs the crate of beer from her hands. 

Sue’s out of there before the first cry of “Beer” permeates the air. She climbs another two floors, and then the metallic ladder to find Emily sitting there, wrapped in her blanket, glaring up at her. 

“You promised,” she says, flatly. 

Sue drops onto her knees and takes Emily’s cold hands in hers. “I know.” 

“No, you,” Emily repeats, then pauses, looking like she’s struggling, “you promised you were gonna be here, okay? I agreed to the housewarming thing only because you told me there wouldn’t be many people and you’d stay with me the whole time—” 

“—baby....” 

“No, don’t baby me. Let me finish.” Emily waits until Sue nods. “And then you went off to the store.” 

“We ran out of beer,” Sue says, feeling sheepish. 

“I know — I know that, okay?” Emily says. “I know there’s a reason, and probably a valid one but I’m mad, okay? You promised me something and then bailed. That’s not cool.” 

Sue adjusts so she’s properly sitting down right in front of Emily. “I’m sorry,” she says, and means it. “It was inexcusable.” 

Emily sighs, and seems to relax a little. “Okay. Thank you for saying that.” 

Sue nods. “Some party, huh?” she says, after a while. 

Emily smiles a little, then. “Did you see Austin? He was performing the High School Musical songs when I left.” 

She laughs. “When I came in, I think he was doing the guitar riff to Bohemian Rhapsody.” 

“Hey,” Emily says, after they’re done giggling at that. “I never asked. What took you so long? I thought you just went to get beer.” 

“Uh,” Sue says, “I’d rather not tell you.” 

“What? Why not?” 

“Because I don’t wanna charm my way out of you being mad at me.” 

“Oh,” Emily draws the sound out, teasingly. “It can’t possibly be that charming.” 

If she wanted to play it this way, then okay. 

“I stopped at an animal shelter on the way home. There’s a young cat there I thought we could adopt. Consider her a housewarming present.” 

“Oh,” Emily says, then in an undertone. “Damn it.” 

“Charmed?” 

“Ugh, fuck, okay,” Emily admits, then pulls at their joined hands till Sue gets on top of her lap. “I hate you. I love you, but I hate you.” 

Sue kisses her in return, settles in more comfortably. 

“Tell me about her?” Emily asks, softly, in the quiet. 

“Well, she chased the light reflected off my watch round and round so it’s safe to say she’s not the brightest.” 

“I love her already,” Emily assures her. 

***** 

On her eve of her 25th birthday, Sue walks into her apartment and finds Emily, Lavinia and Austin panicking over how to fit the last half of her last name onto limited space on a handmade banner. She says hi to Juggers and Iguana, their two cats, then picks up their two-month-old puppy Rooney, all before one of the three already present humans in the room realizes she’s there. 

“Sue, I’m so sorry,” Emily says, walking over to her and looking at her with a slightly desperate look in her eyes. “We tried baking cake, but it’s half burnt, but we can’t decide what to get and all we have are balloons but then Austin’s going crazy trying to keep Juggers from bursting them, because guess what? The cat is the devil—” 

“—babe—” 

“—no, I tried to make it a good birthday, I really did!” 

She puts her hands on either side of Emily’s face, which forces her to quiet down. Then she looks over at the others.  

“Have you guys been here the entire time I was taking classes?” 

They nod. 

She feels a little overwhelmed. “Guys, I — thank you so much,” she says, then takes stock of the situation. “Can you order pizza? We’ll ring in my birthday with pizza tonight.” 

Lavinia side-hugs her on their way out to the couch, and then they’re alone in the kitchen. She kisses Emily on the forehead, then on both cheeks, trying to drive away the frown. 

“What?” 

“I just wanted you to have a good birthday,” Emily says, despondent. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Sue says. “And so are our friends, who sat and worked this hard for hours trying to make me happy. And we’ll have pizza! We like pizza.” 

“You’re just saying that.” 

“No, you idiot” Sue explains, fondly. “I mean it. We’ll have burned cake, and we’ll fight over the pizza, and even if the animals are outnumbered, we’ll probably lose to them. And then we’ll probably watch a movie, and somehow all fall asleep on the carpet because Austin always claims the whole couch. Either way, it’ll be a good birthday, because I’m happy. And you know why I’m happy?” 

Emily’s still pouting. 

“Emily, why am I happy?” 

“Because we’re together,” Emily completes, in a small voice, and then finally, finally smiles. 

(It’s the messiest birthday Sue has ever had. Also the best) 

***** 

Here’s the thing about endings: everyone who writes stories knows they don’t really exist.  

A famous author once said that they weren’t really the end of the story, just where you chose to stop it. Well, Sue agrees. Which is why this story in her head never ends. The imaginary typewriter in her head will keep typing long after, filling pages with anniversaries and birthdays and emergency dog adoptions. Maybe the next page talks about the day Sue breaks her arm, and Emily proposes to her with an onion ring she gets out of the hospital vending machine. Or the day Lavinia loses Rooney, walks around the entire block with Austin to find him and finally discovers he’s hanging out at the old café they used to work at. 

So. Yes. This is where she decides to leave it. Finish it. There will be more stories to write later.

The end. 

(Wink wink. Nudge nudge.) 

[jemmahazelnut]

Two broken hearts with matching sides - Chapter 4

Summary: Freed and Laxus were inseparable friends, they always spent their days together ever since they were children, so much so that they were considered indivisible. That’s why everyone was surprised when during the last year of high school, the two boys no longer spoke a word from one day to the next. That’s why everyone was surprised when Freed left for Germany and Laxus knew nothing about it. After three years the two will be forced to see each other again, and for a period to live under the same roof. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

Here you can find Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three.

Jealousy

It was eight o'clock in the evening when the doorbell rang and Laxus heard someone coming to open the door. He just hoped it wasn't Freed, but it was very likely, as Bickslow wasn't there and Evergreen was in the bathroom. The girl always stayed there for hours, he doubted she had finished yet. The blond threw a look in the mirror, finished fixing his hair with the gel and then left the room.

Of course it was Freed who had opened the door and made Rufus sit in. The two obviously made an effort to have a polite conversation, but they all knew there was no good blood between them. Freed and Rufus had never gotten along in high school, they had always clashed over everything, probably because of their similar characters. But that certainly wasn't the reason Laxus had decided to go out with him, although it would’ve been satisfying to piss off Freed.

“Hi Laxus,” Rufus smiled as soon as he saw him and Laxus forced himself to look at him and not Freed. It was the best idea, to go out and get distracted with someone. If that someone was Rufus, so much the better. Maybe he’d even have a little fun. Indeed, certainly, since the blond seemed to have an interest in him.

“Hey, I'll take my coat and I'm ready,” he said.

“I made reservations at the Sabertooth, I hope it’s fine,” Rufus said. Laxus nodded as he grabbed his coat.

“Perfect,” he said as he slipped it on. Then his eyes wandered to Freed, but the boy didn't seem interested in their date. Why would he have to be, after all? Freed wasn't interested in him. With some nervousness Laxus walked to the door, running a hand on Rufus' back and pushing him out. What had he been thinking? To make Freed jealous? To piss him off? Freed had never been interested in him, better stick it in his head once and for all.

“Have a good evening,” Freed told them coldly.

“Thank you,” Rufus replied with a smile as Laxus closed the door without deigning to greet him. Have a good evening. The asshole. Why the hell was he still so interested in what Freed thought? He was fucking pathetic.

“I knew Freed was back, but I didn't think he was living with you,” Rufus commented as they started down the stairs.

“He can't find another apartment,” the blond replied dryly, hoping that he too wouldn’t start over with the same old story. He was starting to get tired of what people said, or what people thought. He could see curiosity in everyone's eyes. Rufus was no exception, and he was looking at him hoping to find something.

“Was there ever something between you two?” he asked. Laxus looked at him in surprise and felt the tension in his arms. Of all the people who had tried to figure out why they had drifted away, none had ever come this close.

“Where does the idea come from?” he asked him. Rufus shrugged.

“You were always together,” he just explained. Laxus found himself once again unable to argue.

“No, we were just friends,” he replied. It wasn't a lie. They were really just friends. Friends who kissed when they were drunk and who found themselves with their hands in each other's pants. Friends who rolled around in bed when his grandfather wasn't there, who drank just to have an excuse to take off their clothes. But still just friends.

“And now why don't you talk to each other anymore?” Rufus asked. Laxus gave him a dirty look.

“Our fucking business,” he replied irritably. Luckily Rufus asked nothing more and luckily the evening went on better than it had begun.

***

“Where’s Laxus?” Evergreen asked as she came out of the bathroom and left a trail of perfume behind her. Her hair was tied up in a turban and a few drops still ran down her face.

Freed was sitting on the sofa and he was pretending to find an apartment to stay in. He pretended, yes, because he didn't really want to leave there. He wanted to talk to Laxus again, and only there could he find any excuse to do so. Too bad he hadn't succeeded yet. He wasn't a coward, just, talking to the blond was difficult. Besides, he still hadn't quite decided what to tell him. Which was stupid, he'd had three fucking years to think about it.

“Out to dinner with Rufus,” he replied, hoping his annoyance wouldn't be felt. Fortunately, however, in those years he had created a neutral tone to talk with, so that his emotions didn’t leak out. And luckily her friend no longer knew him as well as she once did.

“Oh,” Evergreen said in surprise.

“I didn't know he was going out with the boys,” Freed commented keeping his gaze fixed on the computer, so as not to reveal his jealousy. Besides, senseless jealousy. He wasn't Laxus’ boyfriend, the blond had probably dated a lot of other guys in those three years, and besides, it didn't make sense to be jealous after three fucking years. Despite this, Freed found himself seething with rage. Of all the guys Laxus could date, with Rufus. That first-rate asshole Freed never got along with.

“He’s gay, shortly after you left, he came out” said the girl “I thought you knew” she added with a surprised and inquiring tone at the same time. Freed stared at the computer, refusing to look away.

He obviously knew. He and Laxus had kissed. Many times. They had touched. More and more times. They had never had sex but still, they had become very intimate. But it was all theirs, their secret, something they had never talked about, something Laxus had refused to talk about. Something Laxus apparently had forgotten. Because obviously alcohol made you forget things, especially if they were uncomfortable things to remember.

“I didn't know” he lied to her and closed the computer with a dry gesture. He got up and went to his room, telling Evergreen that he wasn't going to have dinner.

***

He couldn't sleep. He kept tossing and turning in bed without being able to close his eyes. Every time he did it, he remembered the old days, the way he and Laxus had fun. The way they hid from external eyes to kiss, to run their hands over each other.

Freed turned in the mattress, struggling to push those damned memories out of his mind. Why did he have to get lost in the past like that? Maybe instead of standing there hoping he and Laxus could talk, he'd better leave. Maybe he should’ve returned to Germany.

He closed his eyes wondering why he had returned to Magnolia. The university was just an excuse, he had done it on purpose to see his old friend again. But what was the use if he couldn't even talk to him? What was the point if Laxus had never been interested in him?

He heard the front door open and something fall to the ground. Laughter and chatter. Freed was instantly irritated. Laxus had returned and was with Rufus. He didn't understand what they were saying, but they didn't try too hard to keep quiet. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying making as much noise as possible. To let everyone know that they had fucked, that they had fun and that they’d probably do it again on the sofa in the living room.

At that awareness Freed's anger escalated even more. For years Laxus had refused to talk about what was between them, for years Freed had kept his secret and hadn't forced him to say anything, and now he was fucking quietly without worrying about being overheard with that asshole Rufus? How the hell he allowed himself.

Freed got up from the bed pissed off, ignoring the voice in his head that was telling him he was screwing up, that he wasn't Laxus's boyfriend, that he had no right to be jealous, that he didn't have to demand anything from him, especially after having escaped to Germany. But he didn't care. He needed to let off steam, and luckily for him there were two assholes on the other side of the wall who deserved to put up with all his wrath.

He went into the living room and saw the two boys making out near the door. The urge to punch both of them ran by the arms, but the two broke away realizing that someone had entered.

“Uh, sorry Freed, did we wake you up?” Rufus asked with ruffled hair.

“Yes,” the boy growled, this time not bothering not to show his annoyance. He just wanted to insult them both, and maybe get the image of those two with their lips together out of his mind. “You're making a terrible mess, you'll wake everyone up,” he snapped.

“Put on some fucking headphones and go,” Laxus snapped, and Freed felt the urge to punch him again.

“No. He leaves. It's not his home and people are trying to sleep here,” he growled.

“Um... well, I really would go,” Rufus said noticing the air was blowing. He greeted Laxus with a sloppy kiss and left the apartment, under Freed's furious gaze. He was holding back, but he wouldn't be surprised if he walked through the door just to punch Rufus.

“What the hell is your problem, huh?” Laxus snapped as soon as they were alone. Freed was about to answer but the blond, obviously drunk, raised his voice. “This isn't even your apartment, you can't kick people out of the house!” he exclaimed.

“Well, I sleep here and pay the rent and the bills,” Freed answered between his teeth. “I think I’ve the right to sleep in peace without having to hear two drunks fucking in the living room.”

“No, you don't have it,” Laxus snapped, advancing towards him “You're a fucking scrounger, you're only here because Bickslow and Evergreen have pitied you, but since you arrived you've been making their lives worse. They can't stand you anymore. To tell the truth, nobody can stand you anymore. You should go back to Germany to your dear daddy and have your asshole cleaned, as you’re used to…”

The punch hit Laxus in the cheek without Freed even realizing it. His arm had gone off on its own, and he didn't feel guilty at all seeing the blond stagger slightly. To tell the truth, he felt a little better. He was beginning to repay the asshole for all the pain he had endured because of him.

Laxus turned to him, pushed Freed against the wall and a cabinet toppled to the floor. The flowerpot above broke into a thousand pieces but neither of them cared. Laxus punched him in the face and Freed gasped for a moment. He recovered quickly and was about to beat him again but at that moment the corridor light went on, and the two turned to see Evergreen and Bickslow.

“What the hell are you doing?” snapped the girl.

“Our fucking business,” Laxus replied immediately, then grinned, taking a step away from Freed. “Indeed, they’re your business too. This is all thanks to you, you’re happy to have us reunited now, right?” he asked furiously.

“You fucking idiot,” Evergreen growled as she stepped forward. Freed ran his palm over his jaw. Damn, Laxus had hurt him.

“Shit whore,” Laxus spat. “You organized all this, only because you’re not able to do your own fucking business. Next time maybe you'll learn not to get in the middle of my life” he growled at her.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Evergreen yelled. “And here the assholes are you two. You can't even talk to each other civilly. But you're right, I was wrong to get in the way of your relationship. Go ahead and beat yourself up, but get it out of this apartment, because I won't take care of you two!” she blurted out.

“Oh, nowyou understand,” Laxus commented scornfully. Evergreen gave him a dirty look. Bickslow stepped in the middle.

“Ok, you've been drinking. Let's calm down and let's all go to sleep, huh?” he asked.

“And pretend nothing happened? Well, let's keep pretending that everything’s fine and it's not his fault.” Laxus growled pointing at Freed. The boy remained silent. “Why don't you tell him how bad you were left when he left without even warning you? Why don't you tell him what an asshole he was to go live with his rich daddy without even a fucking goodbye?” he blurted out.

“Laxus, you’re drunk. We better talk about it tomorrow,” Bickslow said trying to calm down. Evergreen ran her hands over her temples in exasperation. Neither of them had denied what Laxus had said, however, and Freed felt himself sinking. Why the hell had he gone back to Magnolia? He had been a fool. He passed Laxus and went to the door.

“Hey, where are you going?” Bickslow asked.

“Laxus is right. None of you want me here,” he replied, opening the door.

“Freed” Evergreen tried to say but her voice was obscured by Laxus's.

“Yes, go away. It's the only thing you can do!” he barked. Freed closed the door behind him as he heard Laxus' screams still in his ears.

***

Alcohol flowed into his body but Freed was grateful for it. It was only thanks to that that he could take refuge in a corner of the room and kiss Laxus. Feeling his hands on him, his lips on him, on his neck, all over his skin.

Laxus's fingers ran up his torso until they reached his belt and pulled it down. Freed moaned as he felt his hand disappear under his boxers and sat astride Laxus, kissing him madly and pulling his hair lightly. Good heavens, he hadn't thought a kiss would end like this.

Kissing at every party, at every hangover. Drinking and then locking himself up somewhere with his friend to make out and touch each other. He liked it so much, he didn't want to get out of there anymore, he didn't want that moment to end.

Freed pulled up his friend's shirt, but at that moment he heard someone knock on the door. Freed and Laxus broke apart, panting and red in the face. They didn't answer and the handle went down, but luckily the two had locked the door.

“Who's in here? Hell, why the fuck did you lock the door!” it was the voice of Cana. Freed jumped off Laxus' legs and buttoned his pants, while Laxus adjusted his shirt and stood up. When they were both presentable the blond opened the door.

“Oh, it's you two. What were you doing locked up?” asked the curious girl and Freed felt himself blush. A mischievous smile appeared on the brunette's face. “Were you fucking?”

“Don't bullshit, we were smoking weed,” Laxus snarled right away. Cana's eyes widened.

“What?” she asked stunned. Freed didn't dare say anything, fearing that whatever came out of his lips would make the situation worse.

“Don't tell anyone,” the blond growled and then left the room. Freed followed him carefully avoiding the gaze of the girl, who still looked at them in shock. Laxus was practically running down the stairs and Freed was following him, until he rolled over and hit him. He feared that Laxus would push him away, but instead the blonde held him straight.

“Hey, are you okay?” he whispered. Freed nodded vigorously.

“Yes,” he said in a whisper, feeling the warmth envelop him again. Obviously Laxus wouldn't push him away, he liked him. Good heavens, Laxus liked him. Even if it only happened when they were drunk, it meant something, right? It meant that Laxus liked him at least a little. More than a little, considering what his friend had done to him. Considering what Laxus had achieved with his hands. He tried not to think about it so as not to make the situation worse in his pants, which were already quite tight.

“Let's get out of here,” Laxus said and dragged him out of the Cana’s house. Freed didn't object, he honestly couldn't wait to be alone with Laxus. The two went out and hid behind a tree in the garden. As soon as they were there, Laxus pulled him towards him, taking his face in his hands and kissing him intensely. Freed instantly reciprocated, clinging to his shoulders and feeling his heart explode with joy again.

“It's our secret, okay?” Laxus asked as they pulled apart. Freed quickly nodded. Anything, just to spend more evenings like this with Laxus. He was about to ask him if he liked him, if it could be more, but Laxus kissed him again, preventing him from speaking. And after all, why did Freed have to complicate things? They enjoyed themselves, and even if they only did it when they drank, that was just fine with him. That just meant he’d get drunk more often.

[justatiredpotato]

Set Me Free | Chapter 4

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 5,000~  Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, implied abuse and sexual exploitation

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

You woke up the next morning delightfully warm. You shifted to tuck your nose back under the edge of the blanket, but found you were curling into someone’s back instead. Startled, you pushed yourself up on one elbow and blinked at the figure tucked against you. Your arm was wrapped around Yoongi’s waist, legs tangled together. You blushed and quickly detached yourself from him. He let out an almost childlike whimper and turned to try and pull you close again, but you tucked the blankets around him and moved out of his reach. How could you invade his space like that? You must’ve drank too much.

The air was cold even through your sweats as you climbed out of bed. It was still early morning. You never slept soundly when you drank. Figuring you wouldn’t be getting much more rest if you tried to go back to sleep, you started getting ready for the day. You quietly pulled out a simple fitted black dress and a baggy cardigan, creeping into the bathroom to slip them on over a pair of knit tights. After grabbing your work shoes you exited the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as you could so as not to wake a still sleeping Yoongi. The shop opened in about two hours, so you figured you could get some of the office work done before then.

You settled on the couch with your laptop and a notebook that held your accounts information, spending about a half hour making sure everything was balanced properly. You decided to spend the rest of the time reviewing your inventory and preparing the order for your supplier that month. As you stood to move to the kitchen, the bedroom door creaked open. A bleary-eyed Yoongi emerged, hair sticking up in all directions, partially obscuring his ears.

“Where’d you go?” he croaked, voice hoarse from crying the evening before. “Why didn’t you stay?” His eyes widened as he took you in, already in your work attire.

“Am I late?” he asked, suddenly awake.

“No! No, you’re off today.”

“Really? Why? I can work,” he said, almost sounding hurt.

“I have Jimin coming in today, don’t worry. Why don’t you work on your music today?”

He nodded, pondering. He seemed to acknowledge that it would be nice having some time to himself after yesterday's incident. You didn’t mention the fact that you were trying to hold off a bit longer before introducing him to the other boys. They were a bit energetic for Yoongi at the moment. You feared that Jimin’s affectionate nature would stress him out.

“Okay, well call me if it gets crowded. I can get ready and come out,” he eventually said.

“Thanks.” You smiled, walking over to ruffle his hair. “But don’t worry, this is my job.”

He mumbled some kind of acknowledgement, ducking his head but also pushing into your hand so you scratched his ears some more. 

“Are you coming back here for lunch?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll eat with you. I usually go at two, can you wait that long?” He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be back then.” You turned and headed out front as he grabbed his bag and the bundle of papers you’d salvaged.

“Ah!” you exclaimed, turning on your heel. He jumped, looking at you questioningly. You hurried over to the bookshelf and pulled a notebook off of it. “Use this,” you offered, holding it out to Yoongi.

“Thanks,” he said, flipping through it and giving you a gummy grin. You suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to curl up next to him and ask him about his music. It felt like an actual tug at your heart, wanting to know the thoughts and feelings that he’d put to paper. You pushed the thought away, pulling your laptop closer to your chest.

“You’re welcome,” you said, turning to continue your way out front.

You went over inventory, finishing up about a half hour before opening. The order could be written up that night or the next morning so it could go out on Friday. You put your laptop aside and went out to the counter, making your regular coffee and Yoongi’s. You also made breakfast for the two of you.

He glanced up when you entered the room. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He flashed a smile, pulling one side of his headphones off his ear.

“Thanks!” he said, already going for a sip of his coffee.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you at lunch,” you said, already turning to leave.

“You aren’t staying for breakfast?” he asked a little sadly.

“I have to go let Jimin in and open,” you answered over your shoulder. “But it’ll be lunchtime soon. And maybe you can show me some of your music after I finish up tonight?” you asked hopefully.

“Sure,” he replied, running a hand through his hair and smoothing over his ears.

Jimin was already waiting outside when you returned to the cafe. He waved cheerfully as you jogged to unlock the door for him.

“Noona!” He tumbled into your arms as soon as the door was open. You laughed, squeezing him tight and rocking side-to-side with the hug.

“How’s my Chim Chim this morning?” you asked, burying your face in his hair as he held you. To anyone else you might’ve looked like a couple, but Jimin just really liked holding people and being held, always had. It seemed to help him heal when he first arrived at Jin’s shelter, and you had been one of the first people he grew close to.

“I’m good, I missed you though!” he answered, finally pulling away a little. “You spent the whole weekend with your new kitty friend!” he pouted.

“We had a few things to do so he could settle in.” You laughed at his obvious jealousy. As excited as he was about another cat hybrid in the family, you knew he’d be jealous too.

“Is that why you smell like him? Because it smells like you’ve been all over each other,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. You chuckled awkwardly pushing him away and rolling your eyes.

“We’re staying in the same tiny two room apartment. And I gave him my bed the first day, so that’s probably why.”

Jimin nodded dubiously, slipping past you and inside. He headed to the kitchen to put his backpack away while you locked the door so you could finish preparing for the day. Jimin took down the chairs and straightened the tables while you made him a coffee.

“You hungry?” you asked as you put the finishing touch on his mocha.

“Nah, I ate with Tae before I left.” He came back to the counter, accepted the beverage gratefully and took a sip.

“How’s he doing at the shelter?” you asked as you straightened cups and checked the register.

“He seems to like it. There are… hard parts of the job. But I can tell he feels good about helping people like he is there.” A sad smile flickered over his face. “He’s really strong, you know? Staying there, seeing all those things.”

You put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you choosing to do something else? Not everyone is suited to a job like that,” you said gently. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“But you are doing it!” he said confidently. “With your new kitty friend. You’re totally helping him!”

You laughed, releasing him to go unlock the door. “He’s not ‘my new kitty friend.’ His name is Yoongi. Yoongi-hyung, to you,” you scolded. There was no real firmness in your tone though.

“Another hyung?” Jimin whined. “Man, I wanted someone to boss aro- I mean take care of.” He seemed pleased with his joke.

“Chim,” you turned your best older-sister-look on him. “Play nice.”

He pouted again. “I’m always nice!” he argued, but you could hear the barely-suppressed giggle in his voice. “When can I meet him?”

“I’m not sure yet. Whenever he’s ready, I guess.”

Jimin nodded understandingly. 

The morning passed relatively slowly. The festival only made things slightly more busy than any other Wednesday. Around one, you ran back to your house to make Jimin lunch and brought it back out front for him. You made him eat in the kitchen. He complained, but you explained that Yoongi was working back in your apartment and you didn’t want to interrupt him.

You slipped away for your own lunch a little after two. Jimin was clearly miffed that you were allowed to disrupt Yoongi’s work. But the sulking you’d have to endure was all worth it when Yoongi’s face lit up at your arrival. He already had stuff out to make sandwiches, slicing up tomatoes and cheese.

“I’m not a great cook, but I figured I could make this for you,” he said sheepishly, gesturing to the sandwich that was already made on the counter next to him. You grinned, running over to wrap him in a side-hug. Once he finished his sandwich you settled at the table to eat. Your break seemed to be gone in a blink as you chatted about what Yoongi had been working on (he said it was a secret), and you told him about your latest dumb customer (this Karen who’d come in demanding a fat-free breve, claiming she got one at Barstucks all the time). His laugh gave you this fluttering in your stomach, leaving a warm and cozy feeling that you chose not to read into. 

You glanced up at the clock, cursing under your breath. You stood quickly, the chair scraping a bit on the floor. You’d taken an extra 15 minutes.

“I’ve gotta go, Yoongi,” you said, already heading for the door. He hurried after you, catching your sleeve and wrapping you in a quick hug, so light you barely processed it had happened.

“I’ll show you some of my lyrics tonight,” he said. He waved you off as if you weren’t just going out to the front part of the building. You waved back, chuckling at the silliness of it.

When you returned to the front counter, Jimin fixed you with a questioning look, eyes sharp.

“Yeah, he’s totally not glued to you,” he said with a sniff. He rolled his eyes, laughing as he no doubt smelled Yoongi on your sweater from the hug a moment before. “You’re so whipped.”

You grumbled but didn’t argue, knowing he would only take a stronger denial as confirmation. You weren’t trying to have him give the other boys the wrong idea. You would never take advantage of Yoongi by trying anything with him. A customer mercifully pulled you from your ethical quandaries about relationships with dependent hybrids.

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By the time the last customer left and you and Jimin started cleaning up, you were eager to go check on Yoongi.

“You can go, Noona. I’ll finish up here,” Jimin offered.

“What? Why? I can help you finish up.”

“Just go see him. I’m sure he’s been waiting for you since the second you left anyway.” He snickered, eyes scrunching up with his smile.

You blushed, cursing hybrid noses and their ability to see right through people. You turned your back on him, energetically scrubbing at the counter. “Don’t be silly. If anything he’s waiting for dinner.”

“Well then you better not keep him waiting. Jin-hyung said he’s way skinny,” Jimin said.

You turned back to him, brows raised. “Jin told you about Yoongi?”

“Just a little. He said we should all help you so he can get better.” Jimin was already at your back, gently guiding you toward the kitchen. He pushed you through the door, toward your apartment. “Go take care of your boyfriend. I’ll lock up before I go.”

The kitchen door thudded shut behind you as he went back to cleaning up. If your face wasn’t red before it certainly was now. You took a second, hoping the embarrassment would fade along with the color in your cheeks, before continuing into the apartment. You were certainly surprised by what greeted you.

“Yoongi…?” you called, noting the set table with a couple dishes of food already on it. You started toward the kitchen just as Yoongi’s head popped up from behind the island, making you jump.

“You’re back!” He smiled nervously at you, a couple of glasses in his hand.

“What’s all this?” You reached the table and looked over the spread: spaghetti with meatballs, garlic bread, and a shockingly pretty salad.

“Ah, this?” he said, as if you might be talking about something else. “I just figured that since you were working all day I could do something around the house. I cleaned a bit, but I thought it might be nice if you didn’t have to make dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

“Okay? This is amazing!” You passed the table in favor of going and wrapping Yoongi in a tight hug. “I haven’t had someone make dinner for me in a long time! If I ever let Namjoon cook he’d burn down the house.” You felt Yoongi’s chuckle rumble in his chest, a faint rumble of a purr already starting as well.

“Well, I didn’t burn anything. I just hope it tastes alright.” He pulled away and led you over to the table. “I tried to do it just like the video, so I think it isn’t bad.”

“I’m sure it’s delicious!” You took your seat and watched as Yoongi returned to the kitchen for the glasses he’d been getting.

“The guy on Viewtube said wine goes with this. Does that sound good?”

“Sure! Whatever the chef recommends.” You eyed the food, and noted that Yoongi had even put on music in the background. Soft piano music played from his laptop on the counter. Yoongi grabbed the bottle of wine out of the fridge—which happened to be the only wine you had—and joined you at the table. He removed the cork and poured you each a glass, which you smiled and took.

You weren’t a big wine fan in all honesty. The bottle was just the remainder of a bottle Jimin had brought over a while ago. But you took a sip anyway, wanting to cooperate with what he’d prepared. Yoongi took the plate in front of you and started to serve the food, but you reached out to stop him.

“You don’t have to, I can get it myself,” you said.

“It’s okay, I want to do it.” His gummy smile made you sit back down. You smiled as he spun the pasta, something he must’ve picked up from the Viewtube tutorial. He set your plate in front of you with a hint of a proud smile, then made a plate for himself. 

You glanced at him to find he was watching expectantly, clearly wanting to see your reaction. So you spun your noodles and took a bite. Your eyebrows rose as you looked at him, chewing for a moment.

“Edible?” he asked.

“Very edible. Delicious actually!”

He beamed at the praise, taking a bit himself. He gave a thoughtful hum, considering for a moment. “Not bad. I think the sauce should be thicker though? The guy in the video’s sauce was definitely thicker.”

“Maybe you can tweak the recipe a bit to get it just how you like it.” You smiled at him encouragingly. “I think you have real talent for this, Yoon.”

“Thanks, noona. Maybe I’ll try something new my next day off.”

“That sounds great. I appreciate this so much, truly.” You ate in pleasant silence for a moment before a thought struck you. “Did you get to work on your music today? I hope you didn’t just do housework.”

“Yeah, I got some stuff done. I can show you some tracks I’ve made after dinner, if you’re interested.”

“I would love that!”

“Actually… This is something I made.”

You blinked at him, not quite getting it. “This?”

“Yeah, the piano music. It’s all my stuff.” He nodded towards his beat up laptop, still playing soft melodies from the counter.

“All these songs have been yours?” 

He nodded, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. I mean, none of them are finished or anything. I don’t really have the tools I need to make a polished track. These ones don’t even have lyrics yet. And I don’t know any vocalists to do the melody. But I thought they would be good enough for backgr-”

“Yoongi.” You interrupted his ramble. “They’re beautiful. All of them. I had no idea you wrote stuff like this.”

The way you looked at him, truly amazed, made him shift in his seat. He didn’t know what to do with a compliment to his work, which was so dear to him. He cleared his throat before he spoke, not wanting to sound too... He didn’t even know what. “Thanks,” he finally said before quickly returning to his meal. 

Once you’d both finished dinner you helped him clear the table and do the dishes. As you put the last plate in the cupboard you glanced at him expectantly. He snorted, grabbing his laptop and heading to the living room. You smiled and hurried after him. He opened his laptop, and seemed to steel himself, before turning to you.

“Now remember, these aren’t finished or polished or anything. I don’t have the tools or the skill to really make these good so don’t-”

“Yoongi,” you whined. “Stop selling yourself short. I’ve heard you perform. You’re really talented. And the songs you played during dinner? Amazing. So stop dissing yourself!”

Yoongi’s serious expression turned into a smirk. “Dissing myself?” The smirk turned into a grin, and you couldn’t help but start laughing. Any nerves he felt about showing you his work faded into the background as he laughed with you. Once you caught your breath, he played the first song he wanted to show you. You bopped along to a high energy club beat, then an intense diss track. Yoongi could spit rap so fast you almost couldn’t keep up, yet every word was clear. You glanced up at him as he focused on the computer screen, realizing how truly talented he was. A slightly slower tune with a driving beat behind it came on, something in the realm of a sexy slow-jam. Your eyebrows shot up, face heating along with the whole room as you listened. You weren’t expecting his lyrics to be so… bold.

The song ended and Yoongi clicked around a bit, glancing at you and noting your expression. “What did you think?” He was clearly nervous, but also proud of his work.

You smiled at him, trying to school your expression. If he noticed your flustered state, he was kind enough not to comment. “I would definitely dance to that. Or buy tickets to that concert.”

He grinned a gummy smile, a laugh escaping him. “I don’t think we’re anywhere near that yet. But I appreciate the thought.” He looked back at the screen, queuing up something else. “Okay, this one is a bit different than the other stuff. It’s not as… up as the other stuff. But I wanted to try writing something real. I don’t know if it’s any good, so tell me what you think.” He pressed play.

A soft piano melody began, and you quickly recognized it as something he’d played at dinner. But it quickly became clear this was a newer version of the piece as a base synth came in. After a moment of piano, Yoongi’s lyrics began. His voice was more familiar as the Yoongi you knew, not the cocky club persona from the other songs. 

As you listened you felt your heart clench with every word. This wasn’t a song, it was a story. His story. He told you about moments, flashes of love and joy, broken and torn away by loss and violence. His voice strained, trying not to break as he told of greed and hate and finally, emptiness. When so much pain builds up that you are hollow. With nothing left to push you forward, you only need the tiniest push to send you over the edge and into oblivion.

You sat for a moment, looking at the coffee table in front of you but your mind was far away. Yoongi wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you looked up at him. His eyes were wide with worry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, scanning your face before wiping at it with the sleeve of his sweater. You hadn’t realized you were crying. You didn’t answer him, instead you pulled him into a tight hug. He seemed to understand because he didn’t press you further. The two of you stayed like that for quite a while.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

It was just you and Jimin again on Thursday. Business was picking up as the weekend approached, so you were kept busy with customers almost constantly throughout the day. At noon you ran back to check on Yoongi, but you didn’t even have time to take a real lunch.

Mid-afternoon there was a bit of a lull. You had just slipped back into the kitchen to take a breath and drink the coffee you’d made yourself when a customer out front caught your attention.

“Is your owner here?” the man asked. His voice wasn’t very deep, but his tone was imposing, almost threatening.

“I beg your pardon?” Jimin responded politely.

“Your owner. I want to speak to them.”

“You mean the shop owner?” The man must’ve nodded because Jimin called for you a second later. You came out of the kitchen and looked over the man in question.

He was average height, but stocky. The suit he wore was probably expensive, and you could see a fine gold chain peeking out of the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. You glanced up to meet his eye and were surprised to find a generally handsome face. A tattoo crept out from under his collar, under his jaw, and up behind his ear. He looked you over in return, mouth curving into a smile, but it had no warmth behind it. Actually, it almost sent a shudder through you.

“Are you the owner?” he asked.

“I am. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a lost hybrid. A client of mine mentioned she saw him here?”

You frowned, glancing at Jimin but making sure your unease didn’t cross your face. “A hybrid? I can’t think who you’d be talking about. Maybe he came in with a customer?”

“No, she said he was working here.” The man dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone. “This one, a cat. Name’s Suga, but he calls himself Yoongi sometimes,” he said, turning the phone to show you. The image you saw made your stomach drop. The photo was dimly lit by pink and purple neon lights, but you still easily recognized the boy in the photo. It was Yoongi, curled up on the floor against a couch. He was in just a thin t-shirt and underwear, obviously trying to avoid the camera. You schooled your expression before meeting the man's eyes again, feeling nauseous.

“I can’t say I’ve seen him. My friend here is a cat hybrid, so maybe she mistook him for this guy?” You glanced at Jimin, who nodded. He looked uncomfortable, probably sensing your anxiety.

The man sneered. “Believe me, she wouldn’t mistake this kid for any other kitty.”

You cringed internally but put on a polite, apologetic smile. “Well, I’m sorry we can’t be of more help.”

“Oh don’t worry. I’ll check in with the local patrol station. You know how the police have been cracking down on strays. When they find him they’ll get him right back to me.” You nodded tightly at him, still trying to keep a smile. “Let me know if you see him,” he said, pushing a business card across the counter to you. The name on it was Kwon Hyunjoong. You nodded and the man bid you farewell, You watched until he exited the shop and the door settled shut behind him. 

You turned to Jimin. “Call Jin and Namjoon,” you said, already moving back to the apartment. You burst through the door, startling Yoongi from his place at the kitchen table. He pulled his headphones off and stood, walking to meet you by the door.

“Hey, what’s going on?” His brows were furrowed as he looked you over. “What’s wrong?” He placed his hands on your shoulders and that was when you realized you were shaking. You looked at him, panic in your eyes.

“There was a guy looking for you,” you blurted. You took a deep breath, but it ended up more of a sob. You couldn’t seem to catch your breath. “He had a picture of you. And he’s going to the police. He said they’ll find you and take you back to him and I said I hadn’t seen you but…”

Yoongi stopped you from saying any more, pulling you into his chest and stroking your hair.

“Woah, woah. Slow down,” he said. He was trying to sooth you but you could feel how he’d begun shaking as well, muscles tense as you clutched his shirt. “He doesn’t know I’m here right? And you said you hadn’t seen me.”

“That woman. That disgusting b**** told them she saw you. That you were working here. Yoongi, do they have papers? Can they take you? Oh god, even if they don’t I’m not sure what I can do. What if I can’t protect you? I promised I’d keep you safe and now I- I-” You dissolved into gasping sobs, imagining the police coming and dragging Yoongi out of your home. If they had evidence that they ‘owned’ him, or even had in the past, there’d be nothing you could do. Most of the police didn’t care, and you had no legal right to protect him. “I have to protect you,” you cried. You held him so tightly he winced a little, but he just held you closer.

Your sobs had quieted a bit and you were catching your breath when a knock came on the apartment door. Yoongi carefully disengaged from your arms and had you sit on the couch while he went to get the door. He glanced through the peep-hole before opening it to reveal Jin and Namjoon, along with Jungkook. Namjoon surveyed the older man, who was shaking, eyes puffy and watery. Then he glanced over Yoongi’s shoulder and spotted you curled up on the couch, trembling. He hurried past Yoongi and over to you, the others trailing behind him. You looked up at him as he crouched in front of you.

“Joon…” you whimpered weakly. He pulled you into his arms without a word. You started crying again, sobs renewed when you glanced up to see Jungkook with his arm around a terrified Yoongi. “You have to help me Joon. We have to keep him safe. We can’t let them take him.”

Namjoon glanced up at Jin, before gently pulling away from you. “Can you tell us what’s going on? Jimin only explained a little on the phone.” You nodded, sniffling and taking a shaky breath.

“Jungkook, why don’t you go help Jimin out front?” Jin said. The younger boy nodded, giving Yoongi’s shoulder one last squeeze before hurrying out to the cafe. 

Yoongi came to join you and Namjoon on the couch, leaning close to you. Namjoon glanced at him and removed his arm from your shoulders, taking your hand instead. Yoongi quickly wrapped you in his arms, nuzzling into your neck in an attempt to soothe you. Jin sat in the armchair across from you. They waited patiently for you to gather yourself before you started talking. You told them the whole story.

“I don’t know how to keep him safe. Legally, I can’t do anything for you, Yoongi.” Your free hand came up to clutch at his arm, still wrapped tightly around you. “I can’t protect you without legal guardianship. You know how the police have been about so-called ‘strays’. Without papers, they’ll take you to a shelter and notify your previous owners. They’ll take you and I won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.” You released Namjoon’s hand, tears returning as you turned into Yoongi’s chest again and held him tightly.

“Well the easy solution would be to have her adopt you,” Jin said. He looked at Yoongi expectantly. That was the obvious solution, but you knew how Yoongi would feel about it. You felt him stiffen in your arms and you cried harder.

“Yoon, I know you don’t want an owner. And I don’t want to own you. But I can’t lose you. Please, please, I just want to keep you safe.” The room was silent as your pleas hung in the air for a moment.

Yoongi let out a shaky sigh. “Okay.” You froze, suddenly quiet except for the occasional hiccuping breath. “I trust you, noona,” he affirmed. “I… want you to adopt me.”

You pulled away to look him in the eye, scanning for hesitation. But as hard as those words must’ve been for him to say, you couldn’t see a trace of doubt on his face. He smiled softly at you and you smiled back, tears still falling.

“Thank you,” you choked out and he held you close again, burying his face in your hair. You turned to look at Jin. “When can I sign?”

“You got a computer and a printer?” he asked, already standing from his chair. Less than an hour later you were all seated at the table, papers printed and pens in hand. Jin had been able to pull up Yoongi’s records from the database online. Luckily, his former owners hadn’t bothered to keep the papers up-to-date since they first ‘acquired’ him years ago, so nothing was preventing you from adopting him. You signed, and Yoongi placed his fingerprint on the document.

“I’m going to run these to the registration office before they close. I’m signing as a reference, so luckily we can forego a background check or interviews as a first time owner,” Jin said, already standing and heading for the door. “Unfortunately, they’ll want you to have tags. But you only have to have them when you go out. They make earrings now too.”

“That’s what Jungkook and Tae have,” Namjoon added. “They’re actually pretty cool looking, for what it is.”

Yoongi nodded, clearly not thrilled with the idea of wearing a tag again. But when he saw the remorseful look on your face he smiled at you. “It’s okay, noona. Look, my ears are already pierced anyway.”

You looked and sure enough, he already had earrings: three on one side, two on the other. “We’ll get whichever one you want. Maybe we can find one that just looks like a regular earring,” you suggested hopefully.

[a-hundred-jewels]

cruel summer ch 12: i have these lucid dreams

Ao3 Wattpad

Summary: sabrina starr, pegasuses, and oh no! the fourth wall broke! do we have a carpenter in the audience?

Word Count: 9000 ish

Tags: Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Jane Penderwick, Rosalind Penderwick/Tommy Geiger, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jane Penderwick, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Rosalind Penderwick, Skye Penderwick, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Martin Penderwick, Elizabeth "Batty" Penderwick, Elizabeth Penderwick (senior), Iantha Aaronson-Penderwick, Ben Aaronson-Penderwick, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Annabeth Chase, Jeffrey Tifton-McGrath, Percy Jackson, Demeter (Percy Jackson), Apollo (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood AU, Demigods, demeter!elizabeth penderwick, demeter!rosalind (second generation), demeter!batty (second generation), apollo!alec mcgrath, apollo!jeffrey (second generation), demeter!jane (second generation), demeter!skye (second generation), all of that's in no particular order, main focus is on jane because i love her and she's so so fun to write, tomsalind is there (and stuff will happen - i can't really say what, it will really be eventful though), yes of course there's solangelo, takes place right before Penderwicks In Spring, After Trials of Apollo, more tags to come??, Minor Swearing

Notes and Full Chapter below cut:

Hello everyone and welcome back! I'll admit, this is a little later today than I'd been planning to post (was hoping to get an early start), but hey! If the Puppet History season 4 finale can be late, then so can I!

First off, a massive massive thank you to waterbottle_stickers for being the best beta reader ever. This chapter would be a mess without you. Also, if you haven't already, please check out their enola holmes fic wherever you stray, i follow it's truly wonderful.

If you've been following me on tumblr, then you'll know that, in addition to reblogging an alarming quantity of good omens fanart, I've been making some plans for fics this month. The original plan from back in august was to post every day of the month, but... ahhh.... I just don't work that fast lmao. I'll have to be content with just posting a fair amount this month. Happy october! Anyway, stay tuned.

On this fine day, we've got two lovely QUEER fanfic recommendations that I'm very excited to share. Up first is one from the tumblr blog izzielizzie (which you should all absolutely check out! especially if you're into the one of us is lying fandom!). it centers around the skye/melissa pairing and their senior prom, which Skye is said to have only gone to last minute, and also wearing a lab coat, in a passage of the penderwicks at last. featuring some oblivious lesbians and also jane. once again a massive thanks to izzielizzie, as this fic is one of my favourites!. click here to take a look! (also keep an eye on her blog in general bc her penderwicks fics are awesome!)

The second fanfic is also one I'm very fond of, as it focuses on the siblinghood of skye and jane, which is one of my favourite topics on earth. check out rolling down the ancient high street by hanchewie/ramblemadlyon (tumblr and ao3 respectively) for the sibling antics of aroace skye and bisexual jane when the latter visits the former at her college in california! and, if you like it, ramblemadlyon has two other penderwicks fics from the past couple days that look fantastic as well, and that I look forward to reading.

This chapter is dedicated to my therapist, since I've decided this will be the month of oddly specific dedications. thank you for telling me to stop referring to cruel summer as my "trash baby" and help me recognize the true worth that it holds in my life.

Disclaimer: not my characters, you know the drill. Jeanne Birdsall and Rick Riordan are lucky ducks indeed. chapter title is (obviously) from "lucid dreams" by Juice WRLD.

FROM THE POV OF JANE PENDERWICK

The woods loomed around me, seeming as tall as buildings as they invited me in further. I took another step, the sharp pain of a pinecone digging into my foot barely registered in my mind. I kept walking. A crack sounded throughout the air, and, behind me, a tree splintered round its base and fell down, only inches away from crushing me dead, and completely blocking the path out.

Frightened, I began to run, looking for a way out of the forest. But no matter which way I went, there were only trees in front of me. Where was the path? Where was the grassy hill I had walked down to get in here in the first place. Had I even walked down that hill to begin with? Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I remembered coming here. I wasn’t sure I remembered waking up this morning, or going to bed last night, or anything besides existing in the forest. Who was I? What was I doing here? How could I get out?

Panicking, I stood in the middle of a clearing, looking frantically at the trees around me, trying to find something familiar. Nothing. I was exhausted. How long had I been here? An hour? A day? A lifetime? I collapsed at the base of a tree, sobbing as I tried to remember. Something. Anything.

Then, a voice echoed around me. “Welcome,” it said, and my mind went black.

I bolt upright in bed, a scream halfway out of my throat. I clamp it back, not wanting to wake my cabinmates. Thin light whimpers through the window--enough for me to see my white-knuckle grip on the sheets, but not enough to pass as daylight.

What time is it?

Our cell phones don’t really work here--that was one of the first things Miranda told us when we arrived, and Batty’s been gleefully lording it over us that her Mp3 player will still play music and, like, function, while our smart phones recline sadly in our duffel bags. That being said, I don’t feel quite brave enough to get out of my bed just yet and tiptoe over to the big analog clock that Rio bought at a pawn shop in Colorado. Maybe my phone will at least show the time.

I reach under my bed and fumble for my duffel, hooking my pinky through the zipper loop and yanking it out onto my floor. My phone’s in the front pocket, buried under two pairs of headphones, several gum wrappers, and some strawberry leaves (?????). A piece of gum peels off the screen as I disentangle my phone, and I mentally chide my past self for being so messy.

My phone does not turn on. Big clock it is.

I tiptoe across the cold tile and peer around the tree.

5:45 .

Jesus Pagan Christ.

It’s too early to wake anyone up (as I think this, Batty lets out a snore to rival any crabby Tyrannosaurus Rex), so I wrap a blanket around myself like a criminally attractive burrito, and creep out onto the porch, with my notebook and pen tucked into my shirt.

As long as I live, I will never get tired of summer mornings. There’s something deeply lovely about the soft light of the still-sleepy, pink lemonade sun, the quiet anticipation of the cool air, damp from dew and preparing for the upcoming heat. At home in Cameron, Skye’s woken me up many an early morning to go for a run or do soccer drills or for a grueling “Seven Minute Workout Except You Don’t Follow The Rules And Torture Your Sister by Making It Actually A Forty-Nine Minute Workout.” (But it’s okay, I’m not bitter). But, as delightful as those experiences have all been, I don’t think Skye really gets it. The beauty of the summer morning is not what it can do for your workout schedule, but rather in its gentle softening of an otherwise boiling day. It is to be appreciated in the way that I am now, sitting curled up on this frighteningly creaky porch (I mean, seriously, who built this?) and calling up the Sabrina Starr section of my brain to try and write away the residual panic from my nightmare.

Sabrina sighed as the plane took off. She wasn’t sure if she should have followed the voice in her head telling her to come here. Saying it out loud--even just thinking it--made it sound ridiculous. A dream, a voice in her mind. Barely more than a whim.

Worse than that, Sabrina wasn’t even sure where this whim was taking her. On a napkin in her pocket, she’d scrawled everything she remembered about the dream from the night before. The dark sky, lit only with spiderwebs of lightning, the shadowy figure huddled on a beach and soaked through with rain. The voice crying for help.

And a name. Aeaea.

After she’d woken up, Sabrina had looked up Aeaea, too tired to fully connect why the name felt familiar. Her heart had sunk further after reading the Wikipedia entry, and a breath of hopelessness had left her lips. According to the internet, Aeaea was not a real place. It had been the island prison of Circe. Fiction wasn’t new to Sabrina, and neither was mythology (she recalled an adventure spent with a ghost called Rainbow from a few years back).

Fictional places, though, were another matter. How could she get somewhere if she didn’t know where she was going? Was she trusting her gut with too much this time?

Sabrina folded up the napkin and put it back in her pocket. There was no point in worrying about that now. She’d looked at enough maps to make a guess at where Aeaea might be if it was real. When she got there, she could get more information. Sabrina Starr had survived this long in her career of rescues and whims. She could survive one more adventure. Worst case scenario, she said to herself, I spend a few days running around for nothing and have to brush up on my Greek.

She repeated it to herself like a promise. Worst case scenario, worst case scenario… Eventually, tired out from all her anxieties, and from trying desperately not to worry about what would come next, Sabrina fell asleep.

FROM THE POV OF RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE

“Okay, I give up. Tell me what’s wrong.” Annabeth’s voice startles me away from my plate of eggs, which I had been pushing around with a fork. Anxiety bubbles in my throat, just as it had been since I woke up, and food just doesn’t sound like a good idea.

“I--what?”

Annabeth waves her hand impatiently. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and I don’t think you’ve looked up once. Also you’re always hungry in the mornings, so unless you, like, ate an entire cow before I got here, this ,” she gestures to my uneaten eggs, “is unusual behaviour.”

I give her a look. Sometimes, I get the feeling that Annabeth exists as a part of multiple different dimensions at once, like she’s having four other conversations that I can’t hear, and is still ten steps ahead of me in the one I’m actually a part of.

Or maybe I’m just easy to read.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine.” I’m terrified.

Annabeth sighs. “Is this about the prophecy?”

“No,” I spear another piece of egg, and don’t eat it. “Maybe. Yes.” I feel like going back to my cave and staying there for the rest of my life. Waiting with a book and some paints for the prophecy to get bored and go away. Maybe I’d take Jane with me, or Nico, for some company. That sounds nice.

My plate is pulled away from me as I aim my fork again. “I can’t pay attention when you do that,” Annabeth huffs. I think I wouldn’t invite her to stay in my cave. She’s too on the nose when I want to mope. Then again, she says the same about me.

“Fine,” I turn and face her. “Let’s talk feelings.” Connor Stoll, who had been making his way towards our table, abruptly turns around and walks the other way. I should get Chiron to hire a therapist. Gods know we need it.

Further proving my point, Annabeth’s eyes widen a little, before she remembers it is I who will be spilling. (I make a point to corner her later. It’s a routine we have). “Wow. You broke fast.”

I nod. “I’m tired and you’re annoying.” (False. We both know it. Another routine). “Like you said, I’m nervous about the prophecy.”

Annabeth nods. “And?”

I frown. “What do you mean, and ? There’s no and.”

Annabeth frowns back at me. A mirror, a mime, an annoyance. The nerve to look disappointed in me. “I thought you were spilling, Red.”

I roll my head back and study the roof of the pavilion, which Annabeth designed, and slowly lean my head down to stare at the table. I really don’t want to have this conversation. I go along anyways. “I’m worried about Jane.”

Annabeth leans back, triumphant. “Ah, yes. Your girlfriend.”

Maybe if I try reeeeeeeally hard, I can activate the Oracle of Delphi and freak Annabeth out enough to make her go away. “ Not my girlfriend. You know that.”

“You called Percy my boyfriend for weeks before we actually officially decided.”

I wave my hand dissmissively. “That’s different, you guys were dancing around each other for like three years. You needed a bit of a push. Jane and I kissed once! Over a week ago! And nothing came of it.” We actually haven’t really talked about it. We’re in this sort of in-between zone where we spend a ton of time together, but don’t have a label for it. Honestly, it’s been nice.

Annabeth grins, apparently reading my thoughts. “You’ve been eating lunch with the Demeter cabin, like, every other day. I saw you doing archery together yesterday. Both of you were awful at it, but you stayed there for hours. I’ve never seen you focus on something that long outside of your paintings.”

I stare at the ceiling again. Maybe Annabeth designed it so that a single square foot of rock might fall down onto my head and relieve me from this conversation. “Yes, fine, we spend a lot of time together. But that doesn’t make us a couple, and has nothing to do with what I’m actually worried about!” I can see in her face that Annabeth is more serious now, and is about to fully listen to me, when Percy and Malcolm show up, sliding into the seats across from us, and clanging several plates of pancakes down onto the table in front of them.

“Made them ourselves! Wanna share?” Percy gives Annabeth heart eyes and a kiss on the cheek when she folds a large blue pancake into thirds and bites it like a burrito. I roll my eyes at them because they are a horrifying and disgusting couple and also I kind of want to be them when I grow up. Malcolm ignores them, instead turning to me. “Were you talking about Jane?” he asks, pushing wire rimmed glasses up his nose.

I frown. “Sort of. Why?”

He shrugs, sheepish. “You know. Just, uh, just wondering.”

I narrow my eyes at him, then Percy, who tears himself away from looking at Annabeth to sigh dramatically. “Malcolm wants to ask out Jane’s sister. You know, the blond one.”

I snort. “ Skye? Seriously?”

Malcolm looks vaguely offended. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Sorry, it’s not weird.” I reach over the table to pat him on the shoulder with my fork. “Perfectly normal teenage hormones.” He glares at me and I smile sweetly back. “I just can’t imagine Skye going out with anyone, that’s all.”

Malcolm stares down at his pancake, disappointed. “Oh. You sure?”

I nod, feeling a little more normal with my friends and less doom-related breakfast conversation. My eggs are past the threshold of “warm and appetizing” but I take a bite anyway. “Pretty sure. Jane told me that she’s aroace and, based on past occurrences, there’s a seventy percent chance she’ll punch anyone who asks her out. Anyway, why the interest? I didn’t know you guys talked.”

Malcolm shrugs. “We don’t, really. She just seems cool.”

Percy pipes in, “He’s been practically obsessed with her since she won that soccer game against the Nike kids and made them cry.”

I nod approvingly. “Well, Malcolm, at least we know you have good taste.”

Annabeth pats him on the head, ignoring his complaints that her hand is covered in blue maple syrup. “Better luck next time, brother of mine.”

Piper and Leo join us next, contributing an alarming volume of grapes and a single hardboiled egg to the breakfast display. Leo grabs a pancake and wraps it around some grapes, before taking a big bite. “I hear you’re discussing Malcolm’s romantic failures,” he says around the world’s worst breakfast burrito. Piper gasps in mock offense, then swallows the unpeeled hardboiled egg whole, like a snake. (This is a regular morning routine. She’s trying to work up to being a sword swallower, since her dad did it in a movie once and she thought it looked like fun). “ Malcolm, why didn’t you come to me? I could have given you a verdict within five minutes!”

“I wanted advice on whether I should ask out that Heaphestus boy two weeks ago and you told me to fuck off.”

Piper pouts at him. “That’s on you, you caught me at a bad time.”

Annabeth holds up a pancake with the air of a respected royal and we turn to her. “As delightful as this is, Rachel and I were initially talking about her romantic prospects and also her worries and fears, and I feel that we should get back to that before she slinks off and avoids the rest of the conversation.”

I glare at her. “Why would you bring this away from the very nice conversation we were having about everyone else’s problems? Do you hate me?” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m just not letting you walk away from a potential breakthrough. Now, where were we? You were saying that you’re worried about Jane but it has nothing whatsoever to do with your relationship, or lack thereof.”

I give a long suffering sigh, and try to communicate telepathically with Piper that she needs to Save Me Now, but she’s looking at me in interest with her chin resting in her hands, her long fingers adorned with rings sent to her from her Mortal girlfriend, Shel, who bought them at a vintage punk store. The traitor. Defeated, I turn back to Annabeth.

“It’s just that, whatever ends up happening with this prophecy, I don’t want it to fuck her up, in the way the quests have sometimes done to us. Like, we’re used to this by now, but it hasn’t been a smooth road. I don’t exactly like going on quests, and at first I was really worried at the prospect of being included in a prophecy, since that’s fairly abnormal, but Jane was only made aware of her heritage a couple months ago! What if this turns out like Silena or Beckendorf or-or Jason, and the prophecy destroys her, and it’s all my fault because I’m the one who pulled her into all this?”

Everyone tenses up at the mention of Jason, but they continue to look at me with a mixture of concern and love that makes something soften inside of me. For the hundredth time, I think of how lucky I am to have these people who love me unconditionally. Even if they really, really need therapy.

“I know that I didn’t plan any of this, but we’re both tied in now, especially since both Chiron and I had the prophetic dream and I actually gave the prophecy that day in the woods, and, well, this isn’t her world yet. She’s only got a little bit of ichor in her, and she grew up knowing nothing of any of this. In a way, I did too, and I have no ichor, but I had clear sight. For me, it was ineffable, but she could technically leave any time, if it weren’t for the prophecy. She can leave, and I feel like it’s up to me to make sure that doesn’t change.”

“Oh, Rachel.” Annabeth reaches her arms out to me and I let myself be pulled into an embrace. “Jane’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sabrina stood in line at the boat rental hut, her arms crossed and a frown plastered on her face. It had not been a successful afternoon. For hours, she’d been searching the coastal towns near where her plane landed, looking for some trace of Aeaea, or anything else she’d seen in her dream. She was used to working with dregs. It was normal for her to have to squint a little at the evidence, have to shuffle things together around big holes of “Maybe,” like she was working a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

But this was something else.

Sabrina had read about places where mythology shaped the culture. Places where the tourist draws were events that had supposedly happened thousands of years ago, or creatures that only existed in grainy photographs and people’s imaginations. Hell, she’d met the Loch Ness monster. Was it insane for her to have assumed she’d be able to find the same kind of thing here? All her training and years of experience had told her that, if you sniff around long enough, you’ll find a conspiracy theorist or a slightly off-the-rails guidebook.

So far, though, Sabrina had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. She hunted around, searching up library catalogs, checking every store on the street. “Aeaea,” “Circe,” even “the Odyssey.”

Nothing.

The line edged along slowly, and Sabrina ran her hands up and down her arms. The air was chilly from its proximity to the cold sea water. There were three people in front of her now. She just had to wait a little longer, then she would have a boat and be able to explore these waters herself.

Something was wrong with this place. Something was wrong with all of these places. And Sabrina was going to figure out what.

Later, Jane and I are taking our time walking to the pegasus stables to watch the riding lesson that Rosalind has reluctantly agreed to let Batty take (provided that Percy, who’s teaching today, doesn’t let her fly high enough that she’ll die if she falls off, and that Batty wears all of the necessary protective gear). Jane looks lovely, wearing a sunshine-y yellow bandana that sets off her dark curls and warm sepia skin. She has on her Camp Half-Blood shirt again, and a short green skirt, and all of it should clash horribly, but it doesn’t.

We’ve decided to cut through the strawberry fields, and I swallow a sun-warmed strawberry while Jane tells me about the dream she had last night. I think back to my conversation with Annabeth this morning when she tells me of the dark woods and the feeling of drowning, the memory warping and the echoing voice. At some point we sit down in a patch of grass, a simple circle amidst strawberry plants with a couple logs where the campers and satyrs take their breaks when they work here. Jane finishes her story and we sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, only broken by the grunts of annoyance Jane makes while trying to get her plant powers to activate again. She’s been doing that a lot.

“Well that sucks,” I say finally. “Have you been having other dreams like it?”

Jane shrugs, the neon orange fabric of her shirt wrinkling on her shoulders. “One or two, I think. Last night’s was the first one I really remembered. ” She smiles out of the corner of her mouth. “I hardly ever remember my dreams. It used to upset me. I thought I was losing potential writing material.”

I laugh. It’s such a Jane thing to think, that I can’t help it. She goes quiet, like she’s reminiscing, and I picture a tiny version of Jane, sitting crossed-legged on her summer quilt, writing. I look at her now, scrunched up nose and big brown eyes. Oh gods, she must have been an adorable child.

“My mother used to say that my imagination was the eighth wonder of the world,” Jane says. She’s looking down the hill at the cabins, plant powers temporarily forgotten, and I remember her telling me about her mother, the first Elizabeth Penderwick, who came here and was a daughter of Demeter and loved opera. The Penderwick siblings’ beloved mother who died so young.

I move closer to Jane on the log. “I can understand why she’d say that.”

Jane smiles again, a little sad this time, a little absent, but full to the brim with love.

“Bet you she’s in Elysium,” I say softly. I explained the Underworld to Jane a couple weeks ago, and she’d gotten this same absent look on her face, that I now know means she’s thinking about her mother. Jane nods, now, then turns to me. “Could we talk about something else?” Her voice is quiet, her eyes a little shiny.

“Course,” I say. “Shall I regale you with tales of dimwittery at this camp in the years past?” I told her last week about the time some Hermes kids tried to order pizza to the camp, accidently causing Chiron to think we were under attack. Jane had nearly fallen off the bench laughing.

She grins now, but shakes her head. “Tell me what it’s like being an Oracle.” I give her a look. She’s asked me before and I never really know what to say. When I give prophecies, it’s like I black out. I’m taken over by another entity who shares my body. (“Like that lady in Suicide Squad ,” Leo had said when I tried to explain it to him once, but I’d refused to be compared to such a gods-fucking-awful movie). So, in a way, I don’t know what it’s like to be the Oracle.

As if reading my thoughts, Jane shakes her head. “Not that part. I’ve seen you all green and smokey, and I know you can’t feel it. I mean the other stuff. How did you know it was you? What did you have to do to become the Oracle? That kind of thing.” I relax a little. Jane’s asked me all sorts of weird questions about Greek mythology and the gods recently. She calls it “research for her book,” but sometimes I think she’s just nosy. It’s cute.

Jane shrugs and looks off into the distance. If you tilt your head a little you can kind of see the stables from here. We have fifteen more minutes to get there, according to my watch. I decide to take it easy. “Delphi is this weird ethereal spirit,” Jane continues, “but there’s also just everyday, Oracle you, who likes paint and denim and bagels.” At that, I laugh. “I actually don’t like bagels that much. I’m just late to breakfast so often that they’re usually the only things available.”

Jane pouts at me and plays with the bracelet tied around my wrist--the one she gave me. “You know what I mean! You know all this weird shit about me because my siblings don’t shut up at lunch, and I know stuff about you, like the denim thing, which I still think is funny by the way. But you’re also the freaking Oracle! Your dormant self lies waiting!” I laugh at her, and she rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Rachel, that’s very cool!”

I give in. “Honestly, there’s not much to say, that’s why I don’t talk about it.” I pause. “Well no, it’s that a lot of the stuff beyond the obvious is actually sort of creepy and weird, and not in a good way. There’s stuff I try not to think about, is what I mean.”

The edge of her yellow bandana sticks up as Jane tilts her head at me. “That makes sense. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I shake my head. “No, it feels okay right now.” I mean it. Now that I’ve gotten into the swing of it, I do want to talk about it. Still, a small sigh escapes me. “I like being the Oracle, because that’s what brought me to a place where I feel like I belong and I have people who love me. It’s nice to know that I’m fulfilling my purpose in life.”

Jane pulls her knees up to her chest. “But?”

“But I also get lonely.” It comes out in a rush. “There are other oracles, but I didn’t know about any of them until the Apollo thing happened, and even then, they’re all supernatural beings--I know, I know, but not in the way I am. It’s not the same. Also, there are all these weird rules. Like I have to stay an unmarried virgin my whole life.”

“That’s fucked,” Jane says softly.

“I know! Chiron won’t even tell me why, just that it’s ‘the rules’” I let out an annoyed huff. “And, like, it’s not even that the idea itself bothers me. That’s pretty much what I was planning to do with my life anyway.”

“Same.”

“But it’s the principle of the thing!” I flick a strand of hair out of my face, offhandedly noticing that the tip of my pinky finger is slightly green. I ignore it. It’s not important. “Just because I don’t want to have sex or get married doesn’t mean it’s a fair rule to impose on me! Besides, why is it always the women in these things whose identities are tied up in who they do or don’t fuck? Last I checked, Grover didn’t have to sign an ‘I shalt not fornicate’ contract when he became Lord of the Wild!”

“Exactly!” Jane raises her hands and shouts up to the sky. “Don’t you fuckers realize we’re more than that?”

“The Hunters of Artemis, too!” I’m a jack-in-the-box, and something’s winding me up. “Thalia and Reyna send me letters all the time, and they seem really happy! Which is great!” I pause to emphasize the greatness of their happiness. My pinky is completely green, now. “But, they also had to make a stupid ‘ode of chastity,’ like I did!”

“Are you kidding me?” Jane’s hair flips as she turns to me. “I thought Artemis was one of the good ones!”

My voice lowers to a husky rumble, and I stare into the distance towards you, the reader. “In a broken system, there are no good ones. Abolish the police.” I clear my throat and my voice turns back to normal. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.” My green pinky has begun to vibrate.

“Happens to the best of us,” Jane’s voice is light and nonchalant. “And yeah, I know. Pretty much all of the gods have skeletons sitting on their shoulders, but it just seems out of character for her. I thought all of Artemis’s groups were supposed to be safe havens, not oppressive structures in their own right.”

I frown. “Yeah you’re right, that is weird. I’d never thought of it much beyond the gods having weird rules, but I wonder if something bigger is at play. The gods might be fucked up in the way that regular people are, and are undoubtedly responsible for all sorts of crap. But then there's more personal things, like the ‘chastity vows’ the Hunters and I had to take, and the fact that Nico was initially outed by Eros, and the weird unexplained eye condition that Piper had during some of her quests that made her eyes a bunch of bright, Eurocentric colors, rather than their natural brown. All sorts of other stuff, too.”

“Wow!” Jane says, sitting up straight on the grass. Her hand moves from where it was resting in her lap to cover her heart. “It’s almost like a bunch of genuinely good and inspiring material, such as including prominent queer people and characters of color in fun children’s fantasy, as well as having an immortal group of warrior women who support each other and are free from the gaze of men, was taken into the hands of a cis white man armed with unchecked misogyny and a fair amount of white Twitter feminism, both of which really showed when he tried to create an inclusive and empowering book series for children! Like yeah, it had its moments, and definitely some good characters, but overall, a lack of meaningful research in certain areas really made it fall flat!” Once again, I stare through the bindings of URLs and internet coding, now joined by Jane as we lock eyes with you, the reader. This time, we hold eye contact for nearly a minute, giving you time to read and process the long tangent spat out by this fanfic’s author, who, if we’re being honest, has gone just a tad off the rails right now. Finally, Jane and I look away from you, and resume our roles as fictional characters, still shaking off that strange cloud that comes with staring into the soul of those who give you life.

“Ugh, what’s going on with me today?” Jane groans at the same time I mutter, “What’s Twitter?” We turn to each other, blinking in the sunlight, then grin. This is normal. We’re fine. Jane looks up at the sky again. “I wonder if the gods are watching us. Maybe we should make them think we suck so they’ll leave you alone.”

I laugh as she sticks her tongue out, grinning wickedly at a nearby cloud. “Better yet, make them think we’re too powerful to be messed with,” I say. Jane sees me watching her and opens her mouth, sucking the cloud in between her teeth. The sky seems bluer in the space where it had been, and Jane’s eyes glitter with mirth as she swallows. “Mmm, tastes like sugar.” I giggle, feeling a small shiver on the top of my head. When I peer up, I see another cloud has floated over to me. I open my own mouth, and take it in, just as Jane did hers. “Sugar, yes. But there’s a touch of blood, too,” I say. Jane nods sagely. “What were we talking about?”

“The inherent misogyny in much of Greek mythology and the world of Camp Half-Blood in general.”

Jane nods again. “Right. A very important topic. It makes it weird when I’m writing sometimes. You know, cause I want to bring in Circe and Zeus and Apollo and all these fascinating characters, but there’s just so much bad stuff tied up with them that comes up when I research.” She looks down at our feet, which are standing in the midst of a strawberry patch. We seem to have been walking, crushing sweet summer strawberries as we go, which is odd because I don’t remember getting up. “You know Rachel, I’m feeling a bit strange.”

I look at her, and see an odd blankness in her warm brown eyes. “Now that you mention it, Jane, so am I.”

“My thoughts and words are my own,” Jane says, “But there’s something up with my body. I can’t really feel it.”

“I agree, I’ve honestly gone a bit numb.” I try to glance down at my fingers, wondering idly if they’ve gotten any more green, but find that my neck won’t bend.

Jane’s eyebrows furrow. “Yet, at the same time, I feel as though I could do anything. Grow another grass blade. Grow a flower. Grow a tree. Bend the world to my will if I wanted to.”

“Or is it the world bending me to its will.” I grin at my own philosophical point, but find that the smile won’t go away. Pretty fucking inconvenient, since the next thing I was going to bring up was part of the whole serious misogyny conversation. I decide to go for it anyway. “And I’m not the only one with weird rules!” Jane nods, as if this is a perfectly normal segway, and the only extraneous thought that floats through my mind as we find ourselves walking down a hill is how unfair it is that she still has control over her neck and I don’t. “Remember when I told you about the Hunters of Artemis?”

“Oh yeah! Your friends Reyna and Thalia, right?”

“Yeah, them! They send me letters sometimes, and seem really happy, which is great.” I pause, meaning to add emphasis, when I’m hit with a great sensation of deja-vu. “Wait a second, we already talked about this, didn’t we?” I try to remember, but something in my mind is rapidly melting. I cannot find it. I cannot find anything.

“Jane?” My voice quivers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh gods, please let this be a dream. For a moment, I try to convince myself that it’s the Oracle of Delphi taking over, just like she did the other day and generally does a couple times a year. But I know that I’m lying. This is not what that feels like. “Jane, where are you?” I can barely move my mouth to say the words. I can feel nothing but the frozen fear of paralysis, of lost control. When I open my eyes, this other thing in my body has brought me to the edge of the forest. “Jane? Jane?” She could be right beside me, unable to speak, and I wouldn’t know because I can’t turn my head, can’t move my eyes, can barely even hear right now.

It’s okay, something says.

“Jane?” It’s not her voice. It’s no one’s voice.

It’s okay. You’re home.

With every cut the wooden oars made through the choppy ocean water, Sabrina knew she was getting closer. She could feel it in her bones, in her brain, a little voice that whispered in her ear. It had been three hours. Her body was worn down, energy levels dipping dangerously low, when she felt something scrape the bottom of her boat.

A rock.

Frantically, she peered through the fog that had begun to surround her boat a mile ago. The island. Had she finally made it?

As if answering her call, a peel of thunder rang out, and Sabrina’s boat began to fill with rain that pounded down from the sky. The storm from her dream. She rowed even faster, then, fear sparking a renewed strength in her tired muscles.

Just as Sabrina was about to reach the shore, a massive wave crashed over her, and her boat capsized. She came back up, sputtering, holding her sopping wet bag above her head. Another wave swept against Sabrina’s face, and she found herself spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. Finally, she washed up on the shore, heaving breaths raking through her lungs.

Sabrina blinked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. It was real. She was here.

She had made it.

FROM THE POV OF ROSALIND PENDERWICK

It’s been a pleasant day so far. Breakfast with my siblings and some of the Demeter cabin (though Jane did seem a bit absent-minded). Miranda, Florien, and Rio convinced me to practice some plant magic with them for a couple hours and I built up to growing a small sunflower. Lunch (again with Jane seeming distracted, though Rachel ate with us this time, which appeared to help). Then, Skye and Jeffrey disappeared with some of the older campers (supposedly for a regular game of soccer, but the unsettling gleam in their eyes had me doubting that was all there was too it), Jane and Rachel went to take a walk in the strawberry fields, and Batty and I were left to prepare for a pegasus riding lesson. If it had been up to Batty, the latter could have easily taken up the entire afternoon, but changing into durable pants and finding a bandana can only take so long.

After a somewhat restless hour, during which I grew three peonies and Batty rhapsodized about the stable of unicorns that another demigod camp apparently has, Batty and I arrive at the stable. We’re ten minutes early, and she’s been talking a mile a minute the whole time, not stopping from before. I swear I now know as much about pegasuses as she does. According to Rachel, the teacher today is Percy, her friend, who’s very responsible “when he puts his mind to it.” I wasn’t sure how to tell her that’s actually not very comforting, but Batty looked so excited and I figured there will be plenty of other people there, so. Why not. She’s been spending so much time there anyway.

Needless to say, I very much regret my decision now.

The stables are modest, made of wood and painted green, and I’ve been there several times by now. There’s a long line of stalls visible when we first walk in, but Batty skips straight to the far end, where a massive pegasus the color of a carrot pokes its head over the door and nuzzles Batty’s hair. She looks up at me with a smile that could melt anyone’s heart, and pats the horse on the nose. “Rosy, this is Queen Lotus Flower. Percy said we have a impenetrable bond.”

I look at the two of them with a questioning gaze. How can they both have the exact same puppy-dog eyes? I swear to god. The gods. All of them. “Batty, sweetheart. That horse is like ten feet tall.”

She nods enthusiastically. “I know, she’s so much taller than any other horse I’ve seen. Percy says she has the biggest wingspan of any horse at camp.”

I nod, slowly, wondering why my sister picked the biggest pegasus to fall in love with. At that moment, Percy pushes the door open. “Hey Batty! Ready for your lesson?” Batty leaves her post by Queen Lotus Flower to wrap her arms around my waist and nod. I look Percy over. He’s a few inches taller than me, with brown skin and curly hair. A beaded camp necklace, orange tshirt, and jeans. Weird arm tattoo aside, he’s one of the most normal-looking people at camp. I’ve only met him a couple times before, but, my nerves over Batty flying around on massive horses aside, I do trust him. Rachel seems to have a good taste in friends. Also, Batty likes him, and she’s still shy around a good number of Skye and Jane’s friends back in Cameron.

For the next few minutes, I watch as Percy instructs Batty on buckling Queen Lotus Flower’s giant saddle and looping the bridle over her nose. Not wavering a bit from the “lesson” aspect of all this, he steps back to let her show what she’s already learned from hanging around the stables so often, only stooping in to guide her when she gets confused. As the minutes tick by, more people show up for the lesson: three other students, and a good sized crowd of people who just like watching the pegasuses. By then, I’m seated on the grass outside the stables, soaking in the blistering sun and watching as Percy (seated atop a wiry black pegasus who Batty pointed out as Blackjack) darts around the large dusty enclosure, making final preparations for the lesson.

Skye and Jeffrey show up then, and sit on either side of me. I want to ask them where Jane and Rachel are, but they’re talking non-stop about a game they just played in the woods with some of the other campers, only switching the subject when Percy and Blackjack return and they begin discussing whether or not it should be scientifically possible for a horse to fly.

Just as Batty and Queen Lotus Flower begin a gentle trot around the enclosure, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and hear the familiar sound of Tommy’s chuckle. “She’s got a weird knack for that,” he says. I nod, grinning.

It’s been good with us. We’ve had breakfast together a few times, even played a game of basketball one afternoon. Our conversations aren’t the same as they used to be, and there’s a sense of newness that feels cold and strange every so often. But it’s good. It feels right. At least for now, this feels like where we’re supposed to be.

As Percy starts demonstrating how to take flight, I look around again. Jane and Rachel still aren’t here. They promised to come. (“For moral support!” Jane had said. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Rachel had added with a smile). I try to push it out of my head. This lesson is a big deal. Batty’s going to be flying.

She leans forward on Queen Lotus Flower’s neck.

They begin to run, moving together like a single being.

Just as they burst into the air, Batty’s euphoric smile lighting up the sky, Katie grabs my shoulders from behind. I shush her so I can lean forward and watch Batty silhouetted against the pegasus’s wide orange wings.

“Rosalind. Rosalind, guys. ” Something about the panic in Katie’s voice makes me turn around. Her usually tied back hair is loose and her clothes rumpled, giving the impression that she was dragged out of bed for this. (Some part of my brain distantly remembers her saying she was going to take a nap). Skye and Jeffrey turn around, too.

“What, what’s happening?” I reach out my hands, trying to calm her as she collapses into a squat, breathing heavily.

“Billie… found me in the cabin… had been looking for you guys… been running all over the camp… lucky I remembered about the riding lesson…”

Jeffrey leans over and puts his hands on her shoulders. She stares down at the dirt while her breathing levels.

“Katie, what are you saying? Why were you and Billie looking for us?”

She looks up, and I see that her forehead is drawn into well-worn creases of worry. “Jane and Rachel have gone into the woods.”

Something was wrong. Sabrina crouched on the wet sand, straining to see through the heavy rain. In her dream there had definitely been someone else on the island. She remembered the hunched figure, the sound of sobs leaking through the rain.

But she’d circled the shore at least twice by now, and there was nobody to be found. “Am I late or something?” she wondered aloud. Somehow, she’d gotten that dream It felt like it had been sent to her. Why did it show a person when there was no one?

Sabrina sighed and began to traipse inland, tucking a knife in her pocket. It wasn’t a big island, and she might as well find some shelter aside from her boat, which was now overturned somewhere on the beach. Circe lived here, didn’t she? There must be some sort of roof, especially if this kind of weather was standard.

Or maybe this was just a random island and there was no Aeaea and Sabrina’s dream had just been the unhinged work of her unconscious mind.

There was a small grassy hill set aside from the sand, which Sabrina crawled up with the determination of a dying warrior. Something was pushing her back. An invisible force, a last crumb of survival instinct, plain old fatigue, she wasn’t sure. But something wanted her out of here, and it pushed back harder and harder as she climbed.

She let out a cry of frustration, clawing at the ground, at the air, at whatever this goddamn thing was, and found a renewed burst of strength that pulled her to the top of the hill. Once there, the force that pushed back ebbed a little, like it was giving up. Sabrina let herself relax, and simply took in the view for a moment.

The hill she lay on top of gave way to a deep valley, sprawling and green. In one corner, there was a cluster of trees that looked healthy and comfortable, despite being on a random Greek island in the middle of the ocean. A modest garden lay next to it, somehow appearing unaffected by the rain, and a narrow river wound around the whole scene.

There was also a house.

Sabrina wasn’t sure what she might have expected from the lair of an infamous Greek enchantress, but it wasn’t this.

She hauled herself up on the hill and started down, rushing through the rain onto a wide wooden porch. There was a large stone vat of something dark and crumbly, with a heavy looking staff of sorts leaning against it. The door to the house was short, and Sabrina heard it scrape on the floor when she pushed it open.

The scene awaiting her was surprisingly cozy when she stepped inside. There was a fire in the hearth and rows upon rows of little viles arranged on a set of shelves beside it. A broom leaned against the wall. Sabrina looked around, noting the way that the rain didn’t make any sound as it thrashed against the roof and window, and the almost drug-like stupor that threatened to take over her brain, whispering that everything was fine, she was safe, nothing bad could happen to her.

Sabrina had encountered hypnosis before, and it only ever made her more jittery.

There was an open hatch in the floor with stairs that lead into darkness. She followed them down, feeling the air grow cooler with every step. Sabrina was quiet, taking tiny steps on her toes, and wincing when one of the stairs creaked. She didn’t know what was down there, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way. But there were no arrows flying up from the space below, no sounds of footsteps or slashes of swords.

Sabrina stepped onto a dirt floor and let herself exhale, shuffling along until her toe hit something hard. Only seasoned reflexes made her reach for the knife in her pocket instead of crying out in fear. She knelt down and squinted in the darkness, trying to see what she’d hit.

A leg.

She frowned, shaking it until she heard a low growl. “Stop that.” She stopped.

“Who are you?” Sabrina leaned closer. If they hadn’t killed her yet she was probably safe.

Instead of answering, they reached out a hand. Sabrina could see a gold ring on the thumb that glinted in a little sliver of light that had crept down from the room above. “Pull me up,” the figure said. “I’ve been paralyzed by the witch.”

Helping the stranger sit turned out to be no simple feat. They were tall and muscular, wearing a cape and a heavy metal chest plate. “The witch?” she questioned, propping them up against one of the cellar’s dirt walls. Her eyes were beginning to adust to the dark, and she could just make out their sharp chin sticking out as their head lolled back.

The figure made a noise. “The witch, the sorceress, the woman. Whatever you want to call her. I figure she sent you down too?” They snorted. “Good luck. I told Zeus not to sent mortals, but does he ever listen? You’re gonna die.”

Sabrina tried to piece together what she could from all this. The witch must be Circe, unless she’d wound up on an entirely different island. And if Circe was going around paralyzing people, then something must be going on. She must be hiding something. As for the person in front of her, Sabrina wasn’t sure who they were. By the way they talked about Zeus, and casually said “mortals,” she’d guess some sort of god? As if that narrowed it down. She’d have to be careful.

“Why did she paralyze you?”

Another weird gutteral noise. “She didn’t like my offer. It’s not the first time this has happened.”

She was growing impatient. Why’d he have to be so vague? “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why he always sends me. I don’t think he trusts me. He’d rather me stay her paralysed in the basement of a witch than come back home.”

Sabrina let out an exasperated sigh. This wasn’t working and she needed answers. A whole coast of people with mythology-shaped holes in their memories awaited her. “You’re going to need to be a little more specific. I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

The figure sounded confused. “What do you mean? Don’t you know who I am?”

She leaned forward and inspected them in the darkness. “No. No I don’t.”

They slid their eyes down to her face. “I am the god Apollo. I came here for Circe and she did this to me.”

“What? Why?”

The stairs creaked behind Sabrina and she felt a long nail drag up her back. “I just want to be left alone,” said a voice as deep and powerful as the smell of red wine. “You don’t mind, do you?” Before Sabrina could grab her knife and turn around, before she could even scream, strong arms had surrounded her shoulders and a hand was clamping a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. Shock made her breath in, sharply, and she smelled the sweetness of sleeping drugs.

A heartbeat, a brief struggle, and Sabrina Starr was gone.

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (XXVIII)

Chapter 28: Chrysanthemum

 Well… Here we go again, for a new chapter. I felt bad for last night and how I was leaving you all hanging, so I decided to post a new one today, but… after you've finished this one, tell me if you want an early chapter tomorrow too, yeah?

Hmm hmm… warning for angst. Yeah… that's very angsty. Sorry…

Have some tissues nearby, you might need a couple of those. I most definitely did while writing this.

Hope you like the chapter anyway, and please, do come screaming at me after you've finished it. Tell me what you think about it!

Word Count: 4496

It had been almost a week since the kiss on the beach.

5 days.

116 hours to be precise.

The first notes of the song filled Harry's ears as the instrumentals were played in his headphones, and he focused his attention on the microphone before him. It was quiet in the studio, the lights a little dim, but he could read without problem the words he had written in a hurry on a piece of paper.

He needed to record his vocals to add the song to his album. He had little time left before he would have to end over the final version of it for it to be copied and distributed for December.

Would you be there to hear this song he had written in December?

He hadn't heard from you since the night of your big opening. He was willing to give you space, and was waiting for you to contact him. Harry kept an eye on his phone almost at all times, afraid to miss your call. But the device remained stubbornly silent.

How many hours had he slept during that time? He didn't really know. His exhausted body had collapsed a couple of times, he had then drifted in and out of consciousness, and during these dreamless sleeps he had found little to no rest at all.

He had fucked up.

Big time.

There was no doubt in his mind that everything was his fault, and he shouldn't have kissed you. You were not single, what had he been thinking?

Stupid question, he knew exactly what had happened in his head that night. You were dancing with him, to this song that reminded him so much of you, under a velvet sky stained with pale lights, the soft sand under your naked feet and the waves kissing your ankles in a shushed melody. You were in his arms, so close, so happy, and for a moment he had forgotten – or perhaps rather pushed away from his thoughts – the fact that you were with someone else.

And he had kissed you when he shouldn't have, unlike all those times he had yearned for your touch but had stopped himself.

5 days later and you hadn't spoken to him yet.

He reckoned that it wasn't his place to call you, that you were the one to make the first move. He didn’t want to overstep, didn't want to push you. He had sent you a text that night once he was home to let you know that he would be waiting for your call, that he wanted to talk about what had happened.

He had received nothing but silence ever since.

He was stressed and if he were honest, he was on the verge of breaking. But he kept a fool's hope hidden safely in the depth of his heart, that maybe you'd choose him.

His unreachable reverie was that you would leave Gareth for him, but his reason desperately attempted to temper him and remind him that it was most unlikely. No, what Harry hoped to achieve, really, was simply to keep you in his life. If you wanted him only as a friend, then he would happily oblige. He was used to it by now. And anything was better than to lose you altogether.

So, for now, he was holding onto the hope that you would stay.

He pushed himself into his work to avoid thinking about his fear to lose you, even if everything he seemed able to write these days was about you. Even in his fierce attempts to escape, you always came back to haunt him.

He took a deep breath before he started singing.

 Golden, golden, golden

As I open my eyes

Hold it, focus, hoping

 It felt good though, to sing about you. Hidden in between words that strangers wouldn't recognize, it was the perfect way to tell you everything he had longed for confessing for a painfully long time.

 Take me back to the light

I know you were way too bright for me

I'm hopeless, broken

So you wait for me in the sky

Browns my skin just right

 Of course he had been a damn fool all along. Of course you were too good for him. Of course you deserved better. Of course he had played to the same games as Icarus and had burnt himself exactly the same.

Still... he reckoned that if he had a choice, he would still choose to love you just the same.

 You're so golden

 Because at the end of the day, his life was brighter thanks to you. And no matter the pain, you were worth all of it.

 I'm out of my head

And I know that you're scared

Because hearts get broken

 He would most likely end up shattered, but he had spent so many amazing moments with you too. His long phone calls in the middle of the night, you always beating him at boardgames, the night you had made decorations for his tree, guiding you through London, the karaoke nights, the sun in Jamaica, your adorable ramblings about plants, your collection of scarves, his hoodies you stole from him and the hairbands you left in your wake in his house, your hugs when you finally saw each other after a long time apart, the afternoons spent at the beach with waves of laughter brighter than the Californian sun, your weekends hiking in the canyons and sleeping in tents under the moon, painting each other's nails while watching movies, your shared boxes of tissues whenever you made one of your rom-coms marathon, the long talks through the night around pizza, your eager questions about music, the way you brushed his hair out of his face sometimes, the way streetlights shown in your eyes when you smiled at night, your perfume, your hands often marked with little cuts that you made when making bouquets and cutting flowers, your soft voice above the shushed whisper of the ocean, take care, yeah? and be careful on the road, and the way you had always believed in him and encouraged him to be himself...

No matter if a heartbreak was to follow, he wouldn't trade any moment he had shared with you for anything the world could give nor any peace oblivion could offer.

It was worth it. It didn't mean, though, that it hurt him any less.

 I don't wanna be alone

I don't wanna be alone

When it ends

Don't wanna let you know

I don't wanna be alone

 What would he do without you? What would he become if you left? How could he manage to live on his own?

 But I, I can feel it take a hold

I can feel you take control

Of who I am and all I've ever known

 You had shaped his life for the past few years, for the better. And not because you meant to, but simply because at your contact he longed for growing and becoming a better person. Because he looked up at you and saw the sun. Because he wanted to become someone you'd be proud to call yours.

And as he thought about it more and more these days, he reckoned that he had been, for a part, lying to himself for a long time. He had always claimed that he couldn't control the way he felt for you, and to a certain extent, it was true. He couldn't control the fact that he was in love with you.

But he also chose to love you. Every time he could do something else, he ended up coming back to you. And the answer to why was easy to find.

 Loving you's the antidote

 Now he realized that he had kept on choosing you. Yes, he had made a couple attempts at letting you go, and it had hurt too much for him to handle. Because he didn't want to. Because even when he was letting you go, he was still choosing you over everything else.

And that was why you were the answer to all his questions. That was why you were his definition of home. That was why, when he said that he was going home, he meant to say that he was going to wrap his arms around you. Because you were the one he chose to always come back to.

For all his problems and all the pain, you were the only remedy. And for all his cursed moments, you were the antidote.

 Golden

You're so golden

 It was a little hard to explain, and even he didn't really understand what it meant. On one hand he couldn't control the way he felt, but he also knew that he had never really tried to either, no matter how many efforts he had put in to convince himself of the contrary.

 I don't wanna be alone

 He had always chosen to keep on loving you. And looking back, he would not change a thing. And he would keep on choosing to love you over, and over, and over again.

If he could go back in time and choose to not fall in love with you, he would not take that chance. And he would do it all over again, except for that kiss that had torn the two of you apart. Everything else, he would keep identical. No matter if you felt the same or not, loving you was still what had made him the happiest in his life. So he would choose you then, one more time.

But could you ever do the same?

 You're so golden

You're so golden

I'm out of my head

And I know that you're scared

 Would you ever choose to love him the same way he had always chosen to love you?

 Because hearts get broken

The TV was on to a channel he couldn't identify. There was a movie on, but he hadn't been following any of it, wasn't interested in knowing what it was about. But your silence was way more than he could bear already, he couldn't add his empty home to it.

It was raining in California. While his eyes drifted towards the large window open on a grey sky, his thoughts took him back to the many rainy afternoons you had spent together, playing board games in your pyjamas and eating too many sweets.

Rainy afternoons are better spent in pyjamas.

It was one of your rules. That's why he had one of your pyjamas in his home, and you had one of his at your place. He would have done anything to have you on the sofa next time in your unicorn pjs once more.

He jumped as the doorbell rang. It was probably Jeffrey, looking for him to go back to work. Harry didn't have the strength for any of it though. After recording Golden four days earlier, he had locked himself in his house and hadn't had the strength to get out again. The phase where he was working non-stop was over and apathy had followed. Mitch and Sarah had dropped by to check on him a couple of times, but he had rejected their help.

He reckoned that all he needed to function again was to hear from you.

He got up and went to answer the door, brushing his hair out of his face.

"Jeffrey, sorry I…" Harry started as he opened the door, but he soon fell silent.

It wasn't his manager on the threshold, it was you.

"Hi, Harry," you gave him a weak smile that didn't reach your eyes.

"Hi," he let out in a breath.

"Do you have a minute?"

He shook himself out of his torpor, and moved to the side to let you in.

"Of course, come in."

You were drenched from the heavy rain, and he helped you take off your coat. He disappeared for a minute to bring you a towel.

"Thanks."

"I'll make you some warm tea, you look like you're freezing."

"Thanks, but I won't stay for long."

"Oh… okay."

You shrugged at his answer.

"What were you expecting?"

Harry looked down at his feet.

"Just that, actually."

He walked to the kitchen anyway and put the kettle on, grabbed two mugs and some tea. He also put on a plate some of these chocolate chips cookies you liked so much. He always had some wherever he was, in case you would drop by, in case he could have a chance to share some with you.

"How are you? How is the shop?"

"Fine," you answered through gritted teeth.

Harry took a deep breath, but clearly you weren't here for small talk, so he reckoned he didn't have a choice.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It was out of line," Harry whispered, choosing to dive right in the subject, knowing it was the reason why you were standing in his kitchen now.

"Why did you do it then?" you asked back, your voice as weak as his.

"I… I don’t know."

"Yes, you do. You don't just kiss people like that."

"You did kiss me back though. Are we going to mention that part too?"

He winced at his own harsh tone.

The kettle started to whistle, and Harry poured the hot water, giving him the perfect opportunity to keep his eyes away from yours.

"What do we do about the whole thing?" he asked in a voice weaker than what he had hoped to muster.

"I'm with Gareth. It was a mistake. You know I'm not that kind of person."

"I know. So, let's just forget that all this happened?"

"Can we just forget about it and act as if nothing has happened though?"

Harry shrugged, trying to seem more relaxed than he was, more carefree, when in reality, he could feel the first cracks breaking through his heart.

"Why not? We… had a moment. And we did something we weren't supposed to. We've made a mistake. But we're best friends, have been for years. We can overcome that too."

But you shook your head.

"I don't think so, Harry."

He could hear the tears in your voice before he turned around to look at you, carrying the cups and the cookies to the table behind him. You were still standing, a few meters away from him, and the distance you were voluntarily putting between the two of you was so painful to him. For any other day, you would have been leaning against the sink by his side, stealing a cookie before he could finish to prepare the snacks. Joking around and filling up his kitchen with sunshine.

Instead, you were standing so far from him, despite the two of you being in the same room. He could almost see the wall you were building between you and him. He had spent so much time travelling the world, putting thousands of miles between both of you, and yet he had never felt like you were further apart.

"I fucked up. I'm sorry about it. I'll make amends. But after everything we've been through together, you can't make me believe that we can't overcome one mistake," he argued.

You brushed a tear away from your cheek.

"Do you consider it a mistake? Kissing me, do you consider that a mistake?"

"You're not single. I shouldn’t have done that."

"Why did you then?"

"I… I don't know."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you. I don't know why I kissed you that night. I don't know. I felt… I don't know. It doesn't matter. What's done is done. But we can still make things right."

"How can we…?"

"You can still trust me," he interrupted you, guessing your next question and taking a step towards you, but keeping a respectful distance between you and him still. "It won't happen again."

"I'm with Gareth."

"I know. I know that, and it will never happen again…"

"Do you regret it? If you could go back in time, would you do it again?"

"No, I wouldn't do it again. I wouldn’t. I'm sorry."

But the truth was written all over his features.

He was terrified. He was so scared of losing you, and that was why he would change the past if he could. But did he regret the gesture itself?

Of course, he didn't. How could he? He had dreamt of it for so long…

And there was something painted over his expression that gave it away, and you could read right through him. You couldn’t grasp how deep his feelings for you ran inside of him, no, that was buried too deep in his heart. But you could see that he had truly wanted to kiss you that night, and that he would probably want to do it again.

Would he stop himself next time? Probably. You had no doubt that he was sincere when he claimed to understand that you weren't single and that he had done something wrong. But that wasn't enough. He would still want to.

And as he had pointed out a moment before, you had kissed him back. You had wanted to kiss him as badly as he had longed to kiss you. Your feelings were a mess, and you were too scared of what you would find if you understood what was happening in your heart to analyse them.

"Do you say that because you're afraid to lose me right now?" you whispered, your voice barely strong enough to reach him over the sound of the pouring rain outside. "Or because you truly think that this kiss meant nothing?"

He looked down at his feet, his jaw clenched and eyes filling up with tears. He felt ashamed. So ashamed of himself and the way he felt for you…

His silence spoke more of the truth than any word could, and he knew it. He couldn't hide it anymore. He had done such a wonderful job for all this time, and it was all ruined now.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again. "I… I didn't mean to… feel like that."

"Feel like what?"

He took a deep breath, still fleeing from your intense gaze.

"Like… that… Please, don't make me say it."

"Like you… fancy me?"

He let out bitter laugh.

"Do you really think that I would have endangered our friendship like that because I simply 'fancied' you?" he asked back, brushing a tear away before it could fall.

He sniffed, drying his cheek this time.

"Please… please, don't make me say it. Don't make me say it out loud."

You realized then that you had been hurting him without even knowing. For how long had he been feeling that way? And you had been so blind…

You were with someone else. You didn't have a choice. You were not that kind of person who would cheat or run away with someone else. You were loyal to a fault. Besides, you did like Gareth a lot.

But did you love him?

Yes, you did but…

But did you love him more than you loved Harry?

You forced the question to vanish, and instead, focused on Harry once more. Harry who was crying in his own kitchen because of you. Harry who had always supported you, had always been here for you, and always been so careful to make you happy, and had given you a thousand little attentions… It was obvious now, why had you not seen it sooner? It was so unfair. It would be so selfish of you to ask him to keep up that game he had pushed himself into.

You couldn't let him hurt like this any longer.

"I'm the one who's sorry," you let out, your voice hoarse with tears. "I'm sorry if I've hurt you…"

"You didn't, don't be ridiculous. It's my fault, not yours."

"No one should feel the way you're feeling right now, Harry."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine at all. And that's not fair to you."

"I'm really sorry. I won't do it again. You don't have to worry about it. I won't do it again, ever, just… please, don't be mad. I made a mistake… I'll fix it. I'll fix this."

You suddenly closed the distance between the two of you, hugging him tight, more tightly than ever before.

And for a moment, he hoped that all was forgiven and would soon be forgotten too. For a moment, he played with the possibility that maybe all would end well, and everything could go back to the way it was before. Because now the scent of your shampoo blurred his senses, and your fingers dug painfully into his shoulder blades, and you were so close to him…

But there was something in your hold on him, something in the way your fists closed on his shirt desperately next, something in the way you brought your cheek against his, that told him that the situation wouldn't turn into what he hoped for.

"There's nothing to fix, Harry," you breathed against his ear. "But we can't just… act as if nothing had transpired. It's not fair to you, or to Gareth, or to me. It's just not fair to anyone."

"I won't do it again…"

"It's not the point. The point is that… I think… I'm with someone else, who really loves me, and I can't do this to him. And it's not fair to keep you as a friend now that I know that you don't see me that way anymore…"

"Don't say that," he interrupted you, finally wrapping his arms around you and holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. "Stop. You're my best friend, I won't let you say things like that. I was a moron, okay? I was tipsy. It didn't mean a thing…"

"You're lying, Harry. Don't do that, please. Besides, you've literally said the opposite five seconds ago."

He pressed his face into your hair, breathing you in. You smelled of cherry blossoms and something else that was impossible to describe but was simply you. You smelled like the place he longed to reach, you smelled like home to him.

"I'm okay with being just your friend," he said, and you knew he meant it this time. "I've never asked for more."

"But you did. That night, you did."

"I didn't mean to. I just want to be your friend. Don't leave me. Y/N…"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but it's the best we can do. For both of us."

"No… there's got to be another way."

"Harry, please… let me go, now."

"If I let go, I'll never see you again, will I?"

You shook your head, tears falling too hard for you to let out any sound this time.

"Then there's no fucking chance," he replied, his own sorrow wetting your hair.

"Please, Harry. For me."

God… he would have done anything for you. Breaking his own heart too…

He had nothing more to lose now, so he reckoned he might as well admit it all.

And he wanted to confess that he adored your eyes and your lips and your hands. He wanted to confess that he thought about you every night before he fell asleep, and he longed to see you again in his dreams. That he never stopped thinking of you. That all he wanted was to spend the rest of his life by your side. That he needed you the same way he needed air. That you meant the world to him. That he saw your face against strangers' features when you were apart for too long. That his heart was yours and would always remain so. That he had written pages and pages about you. That you were so kind he only hoped to match your gentleness one day. That he would anything to hold you in his arms. That your smile was brighter to him than the sun, and your laugh the perfect melody, and your touch worth a thousand sunsets. That he never felt as much home as when he woke up by your side after one of your game nights. That you were, all in all, the best thing that had ever happened to him.

But in the end, there was an easier way to say all this.

"I love you."

His confession toppled off his lips shaky whisper, his voice made raspy by his tears.

"I love you so fucking much. I'm so sorry," he went on, his voice quiet and trembling. "I'm so sorry that I love you. I'm so sorry. I love you so much… Don't go. Don't walk out of my life like this…"

"It wouldn’t be fair to you if we stayed friends. It wouldn't be fair to Gareth either…"

"Leave him. Leave him then, and be with me. Be with me instead. Choose me instead. God, if only you let me… I would adore you, Y/N."

He tightened his hold on you, his breath lost in your hair.

"You said once you would always choose me over one of your boyfriends, remember?" he asked.

"It wasn't the same…"

"I know… I know but… What if we tried? You kissed me back that night. You won't make me believe that you didn't want that kiss to happen too. Give me a chance."

"I can't leave him, I can't do this to him."

"So, you think it's fair to him if you stay with him while regretting someone else?"

You tried to pull away at that remark, but he kept you close.

"Sorry… sorry…"

"I didn't say that I wanted you to…"

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm just really scared to lose you right now."

"Harry, please let go of me now. I need to go."

"I'll be whatever you want me to be," he went on instead, only tightening his hold on you, clutching your body against his until it was painful to both of you. "Just tell me. I'll be your friend, I'll be your lover, I'll be your boyfriend, I'll be a mere acquaintance, it doesn't matter. Just… please, don't walk out of my life. Don't leave me for good. Please… I love you so damn much…"

But your answer was final.

"Don't forget to keep on following your dream, huh? You'll do just fine without me. Goodbye, Harry. And… be careful on the road."

You softly pushed him away, and he didn't fight back this time. There was no use, your decision had been made, and he wouldn't change your mind.

He would have done anything for you, including breaking his own heart. And that was exactly what he was doing.

You didn't look at him as you walked out of the kitchen. He heard your steps across the hallway but didn't see you pass his front door. He did look at your car leaving the driveway though, one last look at you while you walked out of his life for good.

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

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[supercalvin]

If you're still taking prompts; Arthur wakes up from Avalon into the modern world but in this universe, Merlin wasn't immortal and had died but is reincarnated without his memories so when Arthur sees Merlin, he's overjoyed but then dismayed to find that Merlin has no idea who he is (whether they were in an established relationship or still dancing around each other is up to you). Happy ending please? :3

In this house we only have happy endings!!!

Prompts + Ficlets

(now with PART 2)

***

It was a seemingly random day in spring during his second year at uni. Arthur had startled awake with dreams overtaking his waking mind. They were memories, he would later figure out, only after he had retched in the loo and had a minor panic attack. He supposed that would happen if anyone were to suddenly remember dying in vivid detail. It took him a couple hours to understand what was happening to him. After he convinced himself he hadn’t gone mad, he realized he had to find Merlin.

Merlin had to be out there. Waiting for Arthur to return. And Arthur had been taking uni classes completely unaware of his past life and the magic that, now that he was aware of it, was still thriving in the world underneath everyone’s noses.

Arthur hadn’t a clue how to find Merlin, and he spent dozens of nights searching the internet and falling asleep in the library trying to find any evidence of Merlin.

It wasn’t until almost a year after Arthur had remembered that he found him.

Arthur was walking out of the university library, after pulling an all-nighter, half studying and half searching for Merlin. He was exhausted and had a large coffee in hand, hoping it would get him through the day. So it was no surprise that Arthur immediately dropped the coffee onto his trainers when he looked up and saw Merlin, backpack slung over his shoulder and headphones hooked around his neck. Merlin looked up at the sound of coffee being spilled everywhere, and their eyes locked.

Arthur didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. He ran forward and wrapped his arms around Merlin.

“Merlin!” He laughed, not being able to hold it back, the pure joy of having found him.

“Uh.”

It took Arthur a second to realize that Merlin was not hugging him back. He puled away, cupping Merlin’s neck to get a better look at him. And when they locked eyes, there was no recognition in Merlin’s eyes. He looked utterly confused and probably more than a little bit scared by the strange man hugging him.

“Merlin?”

“Sorry, mate,” He smiled politely like he didn’t want to anger the mad man. “Do I know you?”

Arthur’s heart sank and it felt like he was choking. He swallowed around the thing in his throat, “You don’t recognize me?”

Merlin looked him up and down, but it was clear he was drawing a blank. “Sorry, I don’t. But you know my name, so we must have met somewhere. Most people aren’t named Merlin.”

“Right, sorry,” It took all of Arthur’s energy to pull away from him. This had not been the reunion he had been hoping for. “I just…uh…”

Merlin scratched his neck awkwardly, “Uh, sorry, I’m a total lightweight, did we meet last weekend? Because I got completely smashed and I don’t remember much of anything. It’s nothing against you. My mates keep telling me to stop taking shots, but that obviously didn’t stop me.”

Arthur nodded, glad that there was such an easy excuse for his odd behavior. “Yeah, we hung out all night. Surprised you don’t remember.”

“Sorry,” Merlin gave a shy smile, “So, uh, you are…?”

Arthur laughed, not able to believe this was happening. He held out his hand, “Arthur.”

“Really?” Merlin looked skeptical but took the offered hand anyways.

Arthur gave a smile, hoping one day Merlin would find it funny, “King Arthur. Of Camelot.”

“God, what an asshole,” Merlin rolled his eyes and laughed. He nodded to the coffee spilled all over Arthur’s trousers and trainers. “Can I grab you a coffee and you can regale me with everything I did while drunk?”

“Yeah, that’d be…great.”

He wasn’t sure if the twist in his stomach was excitement or sadness. He hadn’t been sure if Merlin’s magic had left him immortal like some of the legends said or if he had been reincarnated like Arthur. Either way, he hadn’t expected Merlin not to recognize him.

That day they exchanged numbers after Arthur had scrabbled to make up a few vague things Merlin did while drunk, hoping Merlin would believe him. Over the course of the next few months, they spent more and more time together. Every time they met up or ran into each other on campus, Arthur hoped Merlin would suddenly come-to and realize who Arthur was, but he never did.

Arthur slipped up a few times, mentioning things from their past life and having to quickly backtrack. It was during one evening only a few weeks before the end of term, that Arthur truly stumbled.

The two of them were at Arthur’s flat, on the third round of beers, when Arthur had joked, “Why not just use your magic, idiot,” when Merlin couldn’t open his next beer.

Merlin turned with real fear in eyes. Arthur had seen that look before. Arthur stumbled, trying to think of some kind of joke to play it off, but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“How do you know about magic?” Merlin said, looking suddenly like a dangerous animal that had been cornered.

“I…” Arthur swallowed, wondering if he should just risk Merlin thinking he was mad.

“When we met…you said that we went to the Rising Sun and got drunk.” Merlin shook his head, “I asked my friends and they told me we never went there and they’ve never met you.”

Arthur put down his beer and hung his head in his hands. “Shit.”

“Arthur, who are you?”

“I’m King Arthur,” He said with a desperate laugh, “I know I sound mad. Believe me. But our names aren’t just a coincidence.”

Merlin looked at him exactly the way Arthur had predicted. Like he was a basketcase.

“How did you know I have magic? No one knows. Besides my mum. I’ve never done magic in front of you.”

Arthur smiled, “Because I remember our past life. I know it sounds mad. That I sound mad, but I remember Camelot.”

Merlin shook his head, “That’s…Arthur, look I know most people would call me mad for saying I can do magic, but being the wizard Merlin? That’s a whole new level.”

Arthur smiled, “You never had the beard or pointy hat either.”

“I didn’t?”

Encouraged by the question and that Merlin was willing to listen, Arthur talked. He told Merlin about how they met the first time around. About some of their adventures. About Camlann.

Arthur reached out, unable to resist any longer, cupping the side of Merlin’s neck. “I’m so sorry, Merlin. I know you don’t remember, but I’m so sorry for putting you through that.”

Merlin’s eyes watered and a tear rolled down his cheek, “I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t remember.”

Arthur wiped the tear away, “Maybe you do.”

“Arthur…” Merlin whispered, leaning closer to him, “What were we? Back then?”

“You will always be my other half, Merlin,” Arthur said, unable to resist the pull any longer. Since he had woken on that fateful morning, remembering Camelot and Merlin, he had been aching to hold his lover once again. It had been killing him for the last few months, loving Merlin and having to pretend he was just a random acquaintance. So he leaned forward, tilting his head to capture Merlin’s lips in a soft kiss, feeling Merlin’s gasp under his lips. Merlin’s hands gripped his knee and Arthur’s heart raced as he felt Merlin return the kiss.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice was shaking, “That kiss…I…” Merlin’s hand reached up, his thumb skimming Arthur’s lower lip, the first sign of recognition Arthur had seen in him in all these months. Arthur pulled him in for another kiss, unable to stop himself, and reveling in the feel of Merlin’s arms flung around his shoulders.

“My head…” Merlin said between kisses.

“Sh…Don’t think about it…It’s easier if you just let the memories come in slowly,” Arthur said, trying to distract him by dragging his lips across Merlin’s chin and jaw.

Merlin gasped and when Arthur looked at him, there was recognition in Merlin’s eyes.

***

(PART 2)

***

Prompts + Ficlets

[kys0g0i]

Wonderful

Pairing(s): Romantic Prinxiety

Started: April 23rd, 2020, 1:21 PM

Finished: April 29th, 2020, 9:19 PM

Word Count: 1913 words

Warnings: None!

Summary: Very cliché, but a sweet scene nevertheless

— — —

Virgil didn’t exactly know when he had fallen for Roman. Of all sides, he had been the last one he would have ever thought he would grow so fond of. But, here he is, so heads over heels for the prince that he almost felt foolish at times. Maybe that's why he knew he could never tell him. He was an irrational, anxious idiot, while Roman… well, Roman was the closest you could possibly get to perfection. He was... wonderful.

The anxious trait sighed at the thought, running his hand through his dark brown hair as he looked down at his desk. Even if he knew he was never going to give it to the creative side… he had been trying to make an at least decent love letter to him. There hadn’t been much luck with it though, even after he had been working on it for more than an hour now. The one he was writing at the moment was… okay, but it could be so much better. He just didn’t know how to spill the strong and overwhelming emotions he felt for him. It’s not like it mattered though, he supposed. If he was never going to confess to him, what would be the point of trying to get it right so quickly? Sure, he was unbelievable, well, anxious, to get it all out, but… he had a while. He could write as much as it took until he got it just right. (It only seemed to help his nerves a little bit.)

Virgil continued on writing, having put his huge black headphones on to try and drown out his worries when he just barely managed to hear a knock on his door. Which was admittedly strange, since no one ever came to his room, and when they did, they usually just rose up. He didn’t mind the knocking, he preferred it actually because he got to quickly hide the love letter and stuff the other ones he had given up on in the trash can under his desk. Quickly getting up from his desk, he hopped on top of his darkly colored bed and acted as if he were just scrolling through his phone while listening to music the entire time. “Come in.” He called to whoever was behind the door, if a bit dryly.

And who walked inside almost made Virgil want to die then and there. It was Roman. Of course, it was, just when he had been thinking of him. “Emo Nightmare! There you are!” He said in his usual grand and happy voice, smiling. The sight made his heart leap, and he was suddenly he didn’t blush too easily. The prince, closing the door behind him, headed towards the darker side and plopped down on the opposite side of the bed as him, the foot of the bed. He looked to Virgil with bright green eyes that seemed to lock onto his own purple and green set. “It’s almost five in the evening and no one has ever seen you leave your room. Why are you still locked up in here?”

“You know I always wake up at around two, Princy,” Virgil replied, unable to help but smile back at him. It was true, he usually did wake up at around two pm, since he always fell asleep in the early hours of the morning due to usually being too anxious to sleep when everyone else did, but he hadn’t today. He had woken up at around ten this morning. In truth, it wasn’t much better, but it was considered way too early for his standards. He had gotten up anyways, though, knowing he wouldn’t be able to drift off again until the next morning. Honestly, he had spent most of his time that day thinking about his feelings for Roman, trying to let it all out then so when he did have to talk to him, whether that be in passing or for a video, he wouldn’t give any hints. Or, at least, any obvious hints. “I woke up not too long ago and I just wanted to hang out for a while. Why? Does Patton need something? Is something wrong with Thomas?”

Roman quickly shook his head, turning to completely face Virgil on his bed with his legs crossed. “No no, nothing like that, promise.” He said, pausing for a few moments before going on a bit more hesitantly. “I was just… I mean… I… I wanted to know if you wanted to go to the Imagination with me?”

Virgil simply stared at him in surprise at the offer, not saying anything for a few seconds. Roman never took anyone to the Imagination. Not unless it was important or something special. Apparently, he hadn’t said anything for too long, because the soft smile on Roman’s lips fell, though it was obvious he was trying to keep it up. “I-It’s okay if you don’t want to go! I-!”

“No!” Virgil quickly interrupted, accidentally letting his tempest tongue take over his voice for a moment because of the sudden panic. He cleared his voice, embarrassed. “I mean… I wouldn’t mind going with you there, for a little bit.”

It didn’t take long for Roman’s smile to reappear back on his face. He went forward, grabbing Virgil’s hand. “Great! Let’s go!” He beamed.

“Wait, right n-?” But he didn’t have time to finish his words before the prince sunk the both of them down and into the Imagination.

When the two of them rose up again, they were both standing, which showed how he was just about two inches taller than the creative side, and his headphones had been removed from sitting on top of his head. Virgil had to blink a few times, eyes hurting from having to so suddenly adjust to the brightness of the landscape from the darkness of his room. Eventually, when he was able to open his eyes and look, he was left in awe at what he saw.

Roman had raised them up at the base of a small hill. At the top, there was a huge weeping cherry tree, fairy lights strung throughout it that gave off a soft glow due to the night sky that was littered with stars and a few clouds. And as he would find when he and Roman went up the hill, there would be a soft, dark red blanket waiting for them to lay on with pink-tinted flowers around them from the tree above. To put it simply, it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

He saw Roman’s bright smile out of the corner of his eye and felt him take his arm by wrapping his own around it. “Come on, it’s even better from under the tree!” He said with the same excitement a child would have in a candy store. The side then led the two of them up the tree, Roman eager and Virgil still awestruck. When they reached the top, he took them to the middle of the blanket, before they sat down next to each other.

“So... are you gonna tell me what this is all about?” Virgil asked, face slightly flushed pink as he let a small smile appear on his lips.

Roman matched his pinkness at the question, though his was a bit redder. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“You never take anyone into the Imagination,” Virgil said back, tilting his head a bit to the right. “It’s half yours and half Remus’, and that’s how it is. So why did you take me here of all sides? And so randomly?”

Roman, though he hid it well, seemed to almost grow nervous at the question. It… almost gave Virgil hope, in some weird way. With all this decor and it just being them, maybe…

“W-Well, I just, I…” He paused for a moment. “...Why don’t we watch the stars together, Virge?”

And so, they did. They laid next to each other, Virgil letting Roman make constellations and tell him stories he came up with on the spot for them. He didn’t question him again about why he had brought him and only him here. He knew he probably wouldn’t get an answer, though he very much would like one. Not because he wasn’t enjoying himself or believed that he was selected for a punishment of some sort because he had to spend time with Roman. He very much was happy with what was happening between them right now. It was calm, relaxing, and honestly, it was just nice to not feel so much pressure to speak normally around his crush for once.

After about forty minutes of the two stargazing, Roman turned to look at Virgil, not saying a word until he went to look at him too. When he did look back at him, they didn’t say anything at first, just looking at one another before the taller of the two sides spoke up. “Why the stare, Princy?” He said, amusement in his voice and eyes.

“Just… enjoying the view.” Roman said with a smile, throwing Virgil off guard from not expecting him to say anything like that.

He was quick to recover though, rolling his mismatched eyes at his words. “Oh flirting now, are we?” He teased. “And why’s that, my prince?”

Roman, seeming to like the game that he could tell they were going to play, beamed at him. “It’s hard not to flirt with someone like you.” He said softly to him, hesitantly reaching out and cupping the side of his face that was facing towards the starry night sky. “You’re just so… wonderful.”

Virgil felt his cheeks flush pink, and the two simply stared at one another for a few moments before Roman finally spoke up again. “That’s why I wanted to bring you here. Just the two of us.” He murmured. “I… I wanted to ask you something really… really important.”

Virgil sat up, feeling his heart racing in his chest. “...Yeah?” He asked, quickly followed by Roman sitting up as well and inching closer to him.

“Yeah, I…” The prince paused, swallowing hard before going on. “I… I’m just gonna be blunt. I've liked you for a long time, Virgil. I know we absolutely hated each other in the past, and we still don’t get along sometimes, but I really… really like you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same, but I needed to tell you that so I could get it off my chest, and-“

“Roman.” Virgil interrupted, looking at him with a softened expression and tiny smile. “I like you too. A lot.”

Virgil couldn’t help but feel his heart twist at the way Roman’s own smile brightened until he practically beaming. The prince moved closer to him, slowly reaching out to intertwine their hands, just in case Virgil didn’t want him to hold in hand. The two were silent for a bit, hand in hand as they stared up at the stars once more. The anxious trait himself wasn’t usually the type to enjoy or run towards change, but with Roman… He snuck a glance over at him, adoring the way his beautiful green eyes sparkled in the starlight.

He felt like he could make an exception.

A wonderful exception.

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter One: Clip #2

master list teaser clip one

Zaterdag 12:41

In the afternoon sun, Robbe could feel his clothes sticking to him. Even with his gray t-shirt and a light pair of shorts, Robbe was sweating so much and he was in desperate need of a shower. The mid-afternoon sun was hot and ruthless, beating down on their shoulders and their heads as the day drew on. In addition, the dark pavement only increased the measures as their feet burned through the soles of their shoes. 

But, despite the summer heat beating down on their shoulders, suffocating them all, Robbe kicked the winning goal past a pair of skateboards standing near the other team’s backpacks and his friends cheered loudly in response. 

As soon as Robbe had arrived at the park with Lucas, his skateboard tucked under one arm, his three friends had cheered at the sight of him. His closest and oldest friend, Jens, had also promptly run over to them, planting a kiss on Lucas’s lips. But, shortly after, he ripped the skateboard from Robbe’s grasp and shoved it into Lucas’s hands. Then he dragged Robbe over to the concrete platform to Moyo and Aaron. Within seconds, Robbe was nominated as the final member of their football team while Lucas sat on the edge, shrouded in shade and cheering them on. Robbe had complained about being forcefully volunteered, but he actually welcomed the distraction. Thoughts of Thomas had once again started to edge into the front of his mind. 

But, as he scored the winning goal, Jens collided against him, picking him up easily and spinning him around. Moyo cheered, jumping up and down, while Aaron attempted to give him a high five as Jens was still spinning him. The other team came over to congratulate them on their victory for the mini-tournament. 

“Hey, Robbe!” Lucas called, waving his arm to get his attention. As Robbe forced himself from Jens’ hold, still slightly dizzy, he found his roommate lounging beneath the shade of a tree nearby. Robbe jogged over to him and Lucas tossed him his phone. There were numerous notifications from Twitch and a few from Instagram (none about Thomas, his mind registered), and a text from Yasmina about their Zoom study session tomorrow, but the thing that quickly drew his attention was the time. 

It was almost 13:00.

“Shit,” Robbe breathed out. 

“What is it?” Jens said, appearing at his shoulder. There was a look of concern on his best friend’s face as he glanced over at Robbe. With one hand, he pushed back his hair and reached toward Lucas, grasping his outstretched hand with the other. “Is everything okay?” he asked when Robbe took too long to respond as he typed out a text to Yasmina. 

“Yeah,” Robbe replied, shoving his phone in his pocket. He bent down to snatch his skateboard and his headphones from the grass beside Lucas. He stood up and ran a hand through his hair which was damp with sweat. “It’s just almost 13:00. And, since we’ve just spent about two hours playing football, I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

Jens nodded his head. “If you’re still on when I get home and clean up, I’ll join you.”

“Where are you going?” It was Moyo, stepping into the shade. 

“I haven’t even gotten to show you my trick yet,” Aaron spoke up.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Robbe said, sadness creeping into his voice. “But I’ve got to stream in an hour and I need to have a shower before I can even think of streaming or getting food.”

There was a part of him that wanted to cancel the stream, to hang out with his friends some more. It had been too long since it had been like this, since Robbe didn’t feel like there was something missing, but he swallowed the thought before it continued. And, he always did online matches every weekend with viewers. It was always a blast because they always had a fun time and he wanted to do that, too. Plus, Saturdays always tended to bring a higher viewership and, since it was technically his job, it was something that he needed to take seriously. 

“It’s okay,” Aaron said. “I get it.”

“Gotta hustle,” Moyo said with a grin. 

“Yeah,” Robbe replied. “But, I’ll see your trick next time… if you can do it.” 

Aaron looked offended at the notion that he couldn’t perform the trick he’d worked so hard on and Moyo laughed, reaching over to give him a high-five before he stepped away. “Good luck, man.” Robbe smiled in thanks before moving away from them. 

The trip back to the flatshare was short. Even on the back of his skateboard with his music pounding in his ears, it only took him about ten minutes (and it only took ten minutes because the crosswalk light took forever to turn green). The promise of a cold shower to offset the flushed feeling in his skin was promising and he couldn’t wait. Once the apartment slid into view, Robbe hopped off his skateboard, picking it up with one hand and walking the rest of the way. As he walked up to the lobby door, it abruptly swung open and he leaped back before he could be struck with it. 

In its wake, Zoë stepped out, holding her purse open with one hand. She glanced up, possibly searching for something else, and instead found Robbe standing in front of her. Zoë beamed down at him as Robbe pulled his headphones off his ears. “Oh, Robbe! You’re back already? I didn’t think you would be back home for a little bit longer.”

“Yeah,” Robbe replied. “I’m streaming soon but I got roped into a football tournament.” He paused and Zoë grinned at him, raising an eyebrow. “So, I need a shower before I even think of doing anything else.”

“Ah, gotcha,” Zoë replied, smiling. She held the door open for Robbe, who quickly stepped past her to keep it open. He turned back to Zoë who was moving toward the fancy black car parked at the curb. “Milan took his shower before I did so the bathroom is all yours,” Zoë informed him. “I told Milan before I left so I’ll tell you too. I don’t know if I’m going to be back for dinner so don’t wait for me.”

“Where are you going?” Robbe asked.

Before Zoë could answer, he heard someone shout, “Hey, Robbe!” He glanced at the car, finding it now had the window rolled down. Robbe could see Senne behind the driver’s seat wearing a gray t-shirt. Robbe waved and Senne raised his hand in greeting. “I’m stealing Zoë for the day!”

“Ah, okay,” Robbe replied, grinning over at Zoë, who rolled her eyes playfully. 

Robbe had been aware that Senne and Zoë had heard that reconnected through Amber, who was one of her friends from their school. But, his roommate had been keeping their relationship secret for the past few months. In high school, Zoë and Senne had moved so quickly, it complicated things. Now, Zoë had wanted to take it slow. Robbe had only seen Senne at their apartment once in the three months since they got back together, making coffee on a Tuesday morning. 

“Does that mean I should expect you back at all tonight?”

Zoë rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Senne and I are going out with his roommates and maybe Amber. If it ends up being later, I might stay over at his place.” She glanced toward the car, smiling at Senne, who was waiting with an amused grin on his face. Then, she turned back to Robbe. “Be honest with me. How do I look?” 

“You look perfectly fine.”

“Do I?” Zoë asked. She looked down at her shorts and her flowy summer shirt. In a nervous burst, she tried to flatten out the ends that weren’t tucked into her shorts. Then, she looked back at him. “I’m so nervous, Robbe. I haven’t met Senne’s roommates before. I mean, I have seen Sander. Occasionally, through Amber. But this is the first time I’m meeting him and their other roommate as his girlfriend.” 

“Zoë, breathe,” Robbe said. Zoë took a deep breath before releasing it shakily. “It’s going to be great. They are going to love you.” She looked skeptical. “Now, I would suggest heading to the car before Senne decides to get out and carry you to it.” 

Zoë laughed. “That’s definitely something he would do, isn’t it?” she asked, beaming over at Senne. Before she stepped away, she added, “I would give you a hug, Robbe. But I can see how sweaty you are, so you’re just going to get a hug tomorrow, okay?” 

Robbe laughed, nodding. 

As Zoë headed to the car, Robbe stepped into the lobby, watching her over his shoulder. Once Senne had realized she was coming, he went to get out of the car. But Zoë said something that stopped him in his tracks. Senne laughed in response. Once Zoë was in the car, her boyfriend leaned over to press a kiss against her cheek before the window rolled up. Then, the two of them were gone. 

Robbe felt something tug longingly in his heart. As he pressed the up button for the elevator, Robbe’s phone chimed loudly and he quickly pulled it out. He expected it to be one of the Broerrrs or Milan or possibly his mother. But the name Thomas glared up at him and his eyes darted over the message.

Thomas: I’ll stop by and get my stuff tomorrow. 18:00. Promise

Robbe stuffed his phone into his pocket. The elevator doors opened, and he quickly stepped inside. He reached out, slamming the 5 harder than he meant to. But the doors closed all the same and he felt the force as he was lifted up to the flatshare—where he could shower, where he could stream, and where he could put the text out of his mind until Thomas showed up tomorrow. 

If Thomas showed up at all. 

clip 3

[keigos-dove]

A/N: Part of this is self-indulgent the other part is people actually wanting to see my Baby Hawks ask reversed. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Paring: Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Reader

⚠️Warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of death

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe​ @sparkncharge​ @redbeanteax​ 

You and Hawks were on patrol. He was on one side of the city while you were on the other. It was a quiet night so you didn’t expect any action. 

Boy were you wrong. 

The villain came almost out of nowhere. You had no time to warn Hawks about it. Luckily Eraserhead was nearby on his patrols and caught wind of the attack. When he showed up to the scene he wasn’t expecting to see a child-like version of H/N. 

The villain ended up going missing. Which didn’t bother him at the moment, you were the top priority. He called your agency and dropped you off letting them know of the situation.

Aizawa ended up gathering Present Mic, Midnight, Fatgum, and himself to find the villain that caused the issue.

Keigo’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took his phone out, moved his headphones from his ear and answered the call. It was his secretary.

“Hawks, sir, you need to come back to the agency. Something happened to H/N.” they stated. He heard faint giggling in the background of the call.

“Are they okay? Are they hurt? What’s that laughing?” he asked in a worried tone.

“They’re not hurt, just, well… how do you put it? They were hit with a quirk. I’ll explain everything once you get here.”

“Alright?” the secretary didn’t even hear his answer. She hung up on him before he could.

“What trouble did you get into now, Y/N?”

 He did not expect to see a child version of you when he walked into his agency.

As soon as you saw Hawks you ran up to him with childlike wonder and clung to his leg begging to be picked up.

“Why are they a child?” he asked.

“Eraserhead caught wind of an attack where they were paroling. When he got on the scene he saw H/N like this and the villain. The villain ended up getting away but H/N is safe.”

“So what’s my job? Aren’t I supposed to be out there finding them?”

“No, Hawks. You need to keep an eye on them. We don’t know how long the effect lasts. Eraserhead and a few other pros are finding the villain as we speak. You just go home and watch them until the villain is in our custody.”

“But,”

“No buts, sir. Go to your place and protect them until further notice.”

His secretary walked off after that. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. He had to protect you. Honestly, he’d rather be with you, his crush, than out finding a villain. So he wasn’t going to complain too much about babysitting.

“Ready little one?” he asked picking you up into his arms. You giggled and nodded your head. You were this cute as a child? 

The flight to his apartment was quick. He is the fastest man alive after all. 

There wasn’t much talking other than your cooing at the scenery around you. He found it adorable. He’s definitely getting photos of this once he gets home.

 Once he was home he put you on his couch and turned on some cartoons for you. 

“I got some snacks. You hungry?” he asked looking at your small figure.

“Yeah!” you shouted.

“Shh, little one. It’s late, don’t want to disturb the neighbors do we?” he went to pat your head before heading to the kitchen. The only problem was, you flinched?

“No!” you screamed. “Don’t hurt me!”

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m not going to hurt you, little one. It’s me Hawks.”

You whimpered. “Don’t let daddy hurt me.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

You cried for hours and eventually passed out. His warm hugs, hours of tears, and his fluffy wings put you to sleep.

During your crying, he found out about your childhood piece by piece. Your mother was ill and died giving birth to you. Your dad blamed you for her death, he spent your entire childhood up till you were 18 punishing you for killing your mother. He never got remarried after your mom died and disappeared after you moved out. 

He ended up falling asleep on the floor with you that night. He enjoyed having you wrapped up in his wings as he fell asleep. 

But you don’t like him back. You’re just his partner. You don’t like him. Right? 

He spent every waking hour making your “second childhood” better than ever. He took you flying and played with you. He made cookies for you, and nearly burned the kitchen. 

You loved it. You wished this was the childhood you had with your dad. But sadly your dad was a cruel man. But Hawks made up for it.

Two days later the secretary called Hawks letting him know the villain was captured. The only way for you to be normal again is if the villain changes you back yourself.

The flight to his agency was filled with sadness. He didn’t want you to change back. He wanted to give you the best childhood ever, but he also wanted the old you back. He wanted to confess. 

The only problem was that he didn’t know how to tell you. Hawks is the most confident, cocky man anyone has ever met. But you bring out his soft side. You make him nervous and all kinds of flustered. But he’s going to try, for you.

One he got back to his agency he gave you back to Eraserhead. He couldn’t bring himself to see you change back. Instead, he hid in his office until you came for him.

It was an hour of hiding in his office until you came to see him.

“Hey, thanks for taking care of me, Keigo. I should have been more careful with that villain, I know that was a mistake on my part. I’m so sorry for dumping my past on you. I didn’t really want you to know because-”

Before you could finish your rambling, Keigo kissed you. It was soft, gentle, warm. Like his embrace when you were crying a few nights before. Out of instinct, you kissed back.

“I’m glad I know. I don’t want to begin to hear why on earth you couldn’t tell me. I love you, so much.”

He kissed your lips again. Just a small peck. Haha, a pun get it? I’ll shut up now.

“I’ve wanted to confess for a long time but I didn’t have the guts to tell you. So here I am telling you.”

“Keigo, I love you too.” you say, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Just kiss me again, little one.”

And so you did, again, and again, and again. And each time he left you breathless. 

[aerial-aspie]

An Autistic Point of View 3

Hiya! It's Hazel here and here's another update.

Now we've got past the whole getting to know me stage, I'm going to mostly talk about my perspective of the world around me and things that happen in my day to day life.

I would like to mention that everyone I talk about in this blog will remain anonymous. However, if I do use names, they are ones I have chosen and not their real names.

So this morning I slept in, like always, I have no clue why I still have alarms they don't do anything. I struggle to sleep at night because my brain is still running with thoughts for hours so then I struggle waking up and today was 100% not my day today.

Every Tuesday morning now, we do a PSE on university as applications go out in September. I thought I was pretty relaxed about finding a uni but it got worse. My form tutor started going on about how we should all be doing MOOC's or extra curricular related to your chosen area of study because otherwise you might get turned down.

I was so stressed. What if I get turned down by every university? I thought and I knew that the MOOC's I found were running whilst I was away leading on a summer camp this year. This, in the end, inspired the formation of this blog as a way to build a portfolio.

After that whole shenanigan, my next lesson was pretty normal. However, during my music lesson, in period 3, I had to go and print out my coursework sheet music from the library and when I brought it back to class I discovered someone else's work had managed to print halfway through my work.

After the teacher left the classroom, two of the girls in my class got (what I believed to be) angry at me and demanded me to go back to library and give it to the person who's work it was, I think I knew who's it was (because I saw them near the printer) but then again I wasn't sure at all. Also, the library is on the opposite side of the school to music and it was tipping it down and I did not want to trek back out in the rain when I could be studying. Plus, it's a printout, it could just be printed again...

In the end, I shoved my headphones in and turned my music up to full to ignore everyone in my class for the rest of the lesson.

The rest of my day was pretty normal, it was just wet walking home and man was I soaked when I got in.

The afternoon I spent (this is rather embarrassing to say but I'll tell you anyways) making colour coded lyric video's of songs for an alternate idol universe within a game and also playing video games as a pastime.

I had my usual fight in my brain about not doing enough work, this fight happens daily, no matter how much my head of year and parents say that I've done so much. I can't do anything my brain feels is not of value without beating myself up about it.

Now we get to the good bit. Piano lessons!!! Woohoo! I love them, after teaching myself the piano so many years ago, I finally started getting lessons and my mum says I've progressed so far (I don't think I have). I'm still quite shy with my teacher and get awkward when I say things that I regret but one of the pieces I'm playing I love. It's called Nefeli by Ludovico Einaudi and is beautiful, I highly recommend it!

Where I'm at now is the most difficult section of the piece and man is it hard, I'm struggling to focus on both my hands with correct fingering and the sheet music because it jumps around a lot but I'm doing my best.

And that's about all for today, hopefully tomorrow will be better!

[capaldifiction]

Right Now - Lewis Capaldi x Reader

I haven’t written much at all in awhile and this is my first attempt at writing Lewis, so I hope you like it ^_^

Paring: Lewis Capaldi x Reader

Word Count: 3,158

Description: A relationship was the very last thing Lewis needed in his life right now, but a whirlwind romance has him at a crossroads of what to do as new found feelings and a clock counting down force him to make a decision.

Based on the song “First Time” by Plested :)

Warnings: Very brief mention of sexual things that isn’t descriptive at all, so not really much to warn about lol Oh and a bit of swearing, but it’s Lewis so...

Italics are dreams or inner thoughts. Y/H/C = your hair color.

Lewis’ hand drifts slowly across the bare skin on Y/N’s back as the traces of sunshine began to shine into the room. His eyes drift to the alarm clock on the hotel nightstand as he wishes he could turn it back a few hours. He’d barely slept that night, knowing in the morning he’d be on his way home.

What was typically a day to look forward to, had become a ticking clock hanging over his head the past month. He hadn’t expected to find this here. To find her. A whirlwind romance that took him by storm the last month of his two month stay in California for work. What had started as a carefree friendship with a fun girl he met at the record label office, had turned into something they held off on defining.

He’d spent the better part of a month ending his days with take away and Mario Kart in the hotel in the evening, their bodies intertwined at night, and his mornings waking up to her arm across his chest.

It was comfortable, and fun, and easy. She knew how to bring a smile to his face with the simplest things, and she laughed at all his jokes, good or not. It just felt right. But they both knew it couldn’t last.

At the end of the month he had to head home, and she’d be left behind. They’d both avoided that discussion up until the last moment.

Lewis carefully lifted her arm from him as he slipped out of bed. Escaping to the bathroom, his mind raced as he stood under the stream of water in the shower. She’d tried to bring up the ‘what are we’ conversation the night before, but he wasn’t ready. He’d promised her he would wake her in the morning to discuss it before he had to go. A promise he was struggling with whether he should keep or not.

He still didn’t know the answer. He had to leave today. In fourteen hours they’d be over 8,000 kilometers apart for who knows how long. He had no intention of moving there any time soon, she had a job in the city, and he didn’t even know the next time he would make it over to the States. And he certainly wasn’t sure if he was ready to start that kind of long distance right now.

This was the absolute last thing he needed right now in his life. The very last thing his career or emotional wellbeing needed drifting in the back of his mind. Was it better to end it now and deal with getting over it now, or let the missing her drag on through months of trying to make it work.

As he got dressed in the room, his eyes drifted over to her phone screen lighting up on the end table. A silly picture of the two of them stared back at him as the guilt of goodbye hit him again. Moving all his bags toward the door, he’d finally made a decision. Not one he was sure he wouldn’t regret, but it was a decision at least.

He wasn’t going to wake her.

Quietly opening the hotel room door, he ushered his bags out of the room silently. After checking over the room to make sure he’d gotten everything, he grabbed her phone to set an alarm for an hour before the check out time to wake her. Opening her notepad, he typed two words, “I’m sorry,” before setting it back on the nightstand.

Walking back to the doorway, Lewis gazed back at the bed half hoping Y/N would wake up and stop him. Ask him to stay, ask him to be with her, ask him for one last hug. Something. But she slept on peacefully as her phone lit up once again.

He sighed as he looked at the picture one more time, before closing the door behind him and realizing when she woke up, a picture on her phone was all he’d be to her.

-

The drive to the airport seemed to last forever. As the buildings he’d grown used to seeing every day began to fade into the distance, the sound of the LA traffic and his manager on the phone seemed thousands of kilometers away. A distant blur as he repeated a single silent line in his mind over and over like a prayer, “This is for the best.”

Sitting in the terminal at the airport his thumb hovered over her contact. He’d thought about blocking her. But that red button staring back at him seemed too… final. With a sigh he settled for turning off her notifications. He knew if she asked him to come back, he would.

He posed for several pictures with fans as he watched the the clock countdown on the wall. Forced smiles and laughs as he felt each minute pulling him further away. Soon he’d be gone and she’d be waking up to find he’d left. Soon she’d hate him. Soon he’d hate himself. In twelve hours he’ll be continents away holding onto his regret.

As the plane took off he shut down his phone and watched the city fade into the clouds. With a sigh he pulled out his headphones case, assuring his manager he’s fine, just tired. Unzipping the case and lifting the headphones out, he’s met with a small piece of paper tucked into the one earmuff.

“I miss you already Lew - Y/N,” it read simply with a small heart at the bottom. The message tightening his chest as he held it between his fingers. Shoving the note into his pocket, he slipped the headphones over his ears and settled against the window to let himself drift off to the music.

-

Y/N was walking away from him. Quickly weaving in and out of people on the bustling street as Lewis chased after her yelling her name. His lungs ached as he sprinted between the endless stream of people in his way, her Y/H/C hair just barely in sight.

As he finally makes it to the end of the crowd, he freezes at the sight in front of him. Y/N wrapped in someone else’s arms. His heart beats wildly in his chest as the man leans down to kiss her, a smile on her lips. The smile that she used to direct at him.

Seemingly finally noticing him, Y/N turns to look at him with a disappointed look, “You missed your chance.”

“Attention passengers, we’re now arriving at John F. Kennedy International Airport where the local time is…” Lewis’ eyes fly open as he slips in his seat and shakes his head.

“Are you ok man?”

“Y-yeah I’m fine,” he responds back to his manager quickly as he realizes it was a dream. His stomach churns as it plays in his mind again, and the regret is thicker than ever.

After leaving the plane, they grabbed some food where Lewis sat in silence nodding to the conversation and picking at the food in front of him. The thought of eating unappealing at the moment.

When they reached the seating area for their next flight, he finally allowed himself to turn his phone back on. Going to his messages there are no alerts like he expected, but he can tell she’s messaged him.

He thumb hovers over the conversation as he weighs it out in his mind, finally just tapping her image as he tries to ready himself for the barrage of angry messages he’s expecting.

But there is no anger.

“…Lewis? You said that you’d wake me…” “I wish you would have at least given me the chance to say goodbye, even if you didn’t want to have that talk. I’m sorry if you felt I’d cornered you into it.” “Also… I have to let you know. I’d planned on telling you this morning before you left. I’m not expecting it to be reciprocated, nor am I expecting a response. I love you. I know it’s early to say that, we’ve known each other two months, and only been whatever this has been for a month. But I realized the other day that’s what I’ve been feeling, and I’d been avoiding calling it what it is. I just had to get this off my chest and tell you, so I can know I did everything I could, so I can move on without that regret.” “I’ll leave you be after this message. I hope your trip home goes well, and that you know how much I’ve enjoyed the last two months with you. I’ve been happier than I can remember being for a long time, thank you for all the memories. - Y/N”

Tears prick at Lewis’ eyes as he reads the messages, the lump in his throat growing. Three words standing out on the screen. Everything in his mind slipping into place as his own feelings finally make complete sense. He loved her too.

She’s the last thing he needs right now at this point in his life, but she’s also the last thing he should let go.

Cursing under his breath he realized how big of a mistake he made. And in that moment the overhead speaker announcing his boarding flight back to the U.K. brought him back to the present.

“I have to go back,” he says immediately, his manager turning to look at him confused.

“We’re heading back now…?”

“No, I have to go back to LA,” Lewis insists, grabbing his bag.

“What!? We just left, we’re supposed to be boarding the flight back home right now, and you want to go back to California?”

“I have to,” he insists.

“Why the hell do you need to go back there? If you forgot something I’m sure we can find someone to ship it.”

“I fucked up with Y/N, and I have to go fix it, now,” Lewis shoulders his backpack and starts heading toward the help desks.

His manager grabs his arm to pull him back and sighs as he pulls his phone out, “We’ll book you a flight back but I can’t give you more than two days, we’re needed back. And your stuff is already on this plane back so I’ll take care of that. You’re going to have to get clothes or something, I can’t believe you’ve waited until now to think of this.”

Lewis nods and watches as he quickly taps through several screens booking a new ticket back to LAX.

“You’re going to have to head out to the entrance, to check back in and print your new ticket and go back through security. Keep me updated on when you’re coming back so I can book your ticket back. But we really need you back by Wednesday, no exceptions.”

“No exceptions,” he repeats uttering a thanks and taking off toward the entrance.

-

The six hour flight back felt like a lifetime. He couldn’t sleep this time. His thoughts racing more than before, now that he knew what he had to lose. He might be going back, but that doesn’t mean she’ll welcome him back in open arms. He’d lied and skipped out on her without even a goodbye. She had all right to be angry with him.

He’d wanted to message her back, tell her he felt the same, tell her he’d be there as soon as he could. But it didn’t feel right. It had to be in person.

With two six hour flights, waiting around in airports, and LA traffic, it was nearly midnight by the time Lewis found himself standing in front of her apartment building as the taxi sped away behind him. It had technically only been this morning he last saw her, but it felt like an eternity. And he felt like absolute garbage. Not sleeping the night before and twelve hours on a plane hadn’t done him any favors.

Shouldering his bag he takes the stairs up to her floor and counts the apartment numbers as he passes them, each one bringing him closer, and each one making his heart beat faster.

“Maybe this was a bad idea. 208.

What if I’m too late. 207.

What if she slams the door in my face. 206.

Maybe I should just go. 205.

This is fucking stupid what am I doing? 204.

What if someone else is there with her? 203.”

And his thoughts are cut short as he’s met with her apartment door. 202.

Running his fingers through his hair quickly and clearing his throat, he forces himself to knock on the door. The seconds seem to drag on an eternity. The sound of foot steps approaching the door then just silence.

When suddenly the door flies open to reveal Y/N in her pajamas, looking obviously surprised, “Lewis?”

“I- uh, hey there,” he sputters out with an awkward smile, silently cursing himself.

“What are you… why are you… aren’t you supposed to… did you forget something?” she finally settles on as she shifts uneasily in her doorway.

“Yes, you,” he admits immediately, biting his tongue as her eyes widen.

“Excuse me?” she questions, her arms crossing.

“No I mean, I’m making a right fucking mess of this,” he huffs then sighs as he looks back up at her. “Listen I’m shit at this. I came all the way back here without a plan and now I’m standing at your doorstep at fucking midnight looking like an idiot. I love you too, and I’m sorry I left without a goodbye. I’m sorry I avoided saying it before, and avoided taking about it. I didn’t realize it until I was sitting in New York feeling like a complete idiot.”

A soft smile crosses her face as her body relaxes and she looks around the walkway, before backing up, “You should come in before someone recognizes you. And I don’t think the neighbors would appreciate us discussing this in the walkway.”

With a nod he steps through the doorway, and slips past her into her apartment. “Should I say I’m sorry again?” he questions as he takes a seat on the couch.

Sitting down next to him she smirks, “It wouldn’t hurt your case. But I’d like more of an explanation than an apology. I thought you left without waking me because you didn’t feel the same.”

“I panicked this morning,” he admits running his hand through his hair quickly. “I didn’t know what to say or do. I knew if I woke you, if you asked me to stay I would. It was the first time I wasn’t looking forward to heading back. And I’d told myself this isn’t what I need in my life right now. I don’t need a relationship, I don’t even know when I’ll ever be able to see you. But I realized I made a gigantic mistake letting you go without even trying.”

Nodding slowly Y/N reaches out to hold his free hand and squeeze it gently. “I’d been thinking about how it’d all work if you did feel the same, if we gave it a shot. And I’d… asked a few questions toward figuring that out.”

Tilting his head toward her, he finds himself leaning in closer so they’re shoulder to shoulder, “Such as?”

“Well, I mean, you knew I had today off since it was your last day but I’d decided to take all my vacation right now. So I have three weeks off and thought maybe I could come visit you back in Scotland after a few days. Thought it might be good to have some time together official, if that’s what happened,” she shrugged gently against him, her cheeks reddening.

His brow raises as he nods and releases her hand to put his arm around her instead. She leans her head against his chest, and his chin rests on the top of her head, “I really fucked up this morning didn’t I?”

“Just a bit,” she chuckles, a smile forming on her face. “There was something else though, that I had been asking about at work.”

“What would that be?” He asks, his hand slowly rubbing her shoulder.

“I’d talked about the possibility of an office transfer,” she admits.

“To where?”

“London.”

His hand instantly freezes as he feels his heartbeat quickening under her ear, “You’re going to move to London?”

“Well… I thought if they have an opening at the office there, I’d be at least a bit closer than I am now. And we’d be able to see each other more often. It’s the main office you work with, and you’re definitely in London more than you’re in LA.”

“You’d do that… for me?” he asks slowly. “Just uproot your whole life to a whole new country, to be closer to me?”

“If we’re going to be serious about this, I’m going to take it serious,” she nods against him. “I’m not from LA, I moved here for this job and I’ve only been here two years. I don’t have much holding me here. If I can do the same job over there and be closer to you, it seems like the natural choice. I also figured if it didn’t work out, it’s not like we’re living together or I’m your next door neighbor. I’d just be in the position I’m already in now here, but over there. Plus a change of scenery is nice every once in awhile. And I also thought maybe while visiting you I could head down to the office to check it out.”

Lewis sits silently for a few minutes, processing everything discussed in just the last ten minutes alone, then lets out a relieved sigh. “You make my heart want to stick around,” he admits.

“Was that a song lyrics or a romantic line that just came out of your mouth Capaldi?” she teases as she looks up at his own reddening cheeks.

“Don’t ruin the moment,” he chuckles as he pulls back to look at her. “So.. you… me… this thing serious, we fly to Scotland Tuesday?”

“Was that your version of asking me to be your girlfriend?” she questions with a lifted brow.

His hand instantly shoots up to his hair as he clears his throat and turns his head away, “I- well yes, it was.”

“Sounds perfect,” she responds happily, reaching up to turn his face back toward hers. “Thank you for coming back Lewis.”

“I shouldn’t have left like that in the first place,” he adds, standing up and pulling her into his arms. “I won’t let you down again.”

“I trust you,” she says softly, looking up into his eyes.

A smile spreads across his face as he lowers his head toward her, eye flickering to her lips then back to her eyes asking for silent permission. She nods gently, her eyes closing as his lips met hers. “I love you.”

-----

Masterlist

Request List

[technicallymilkshakes]

If You Say You Love Me [3]

Genre(s): Hurt/Comfort, Angst Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader Word Count: 2.3k

[Previous]  ||  [Next]

Too loud.

Baekhyun and Sehun are up to some mischief with Jongin in the background egging them on. Low thumps like running echo through the apartment, laughter thundering along with it. Music starts playing and several protests ring out. Someone, Jongdae, he thinks, yells to turn the volume up.

It’s so loud that it’s painful. He strums louder, hoping to drown them out, to drown out everything--the way his heartbeat races to catch up to the rhythm, how his skin prickles and tightens. But the noise bleeds in and pollutes the song. He shudders, grips the neck of the guitar tightly before depositing it gently on its stand. 

His hand automatically reaches out to his phone. It’s set three hand lengths away. He pulls his headphones on and his fingers move in a rhythm that has become as natural as a smile.

One ring, two rings. It goes on like that. He counts them in his head and the pattern calms him down, reassures him. He doesn’t even pray anymore. He hasn’t earned the right for someone to grant him wishes.

The call goes to voicemail, as it has for the past two weeks. He pulls his headphones off and lays down on the bed, closes his eyes, and lives in the noise that other people make. He is quiet. Quiet. He’s given his voice away. 

All of the sudden he feels hot. He strips his shirt off then spreads out on the covers of his bed. They’re grey and soft and light. They were expensive, too, but he doesn’t regret buying them. You told him that he shouldn’t skimp on good sheets. He’s gotten some of the best nights of sleep on them, though not lately.

He rolls over. 

There’s a soft knock, barely audible over the music. Chanyeol blinks slowly. He forgot about the noise. 

“Oh.” Jongdae stares at him, eyes wide. “I didn’t think you were actually in here.”

Chanyeol stares back at him. 

Jongdae frowns. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately…” He walks over to the bed and moves Chanyeol’s legs over so he can hop up. “You okay?”

Chanyeol just closes his eyes, hums something that is either word or song or both, and turns on his side. 

He feels a brief flutter of gratefulness when he feels fingers massage through his hair. The boys, EXO… He’s so glad he met them, these people who have become part of his family. A hot tear streaks its way over the bridge of his nose and down the other cheek to soak into the covers. 

It’s still not the same, though. Jongdae doesn’t know how to do it properly, only brushes over the same spot. His fingers don’t pull languidly through and down, down, walking their way along his neck and easing the tension from his spine. They don’t curve around his ear. 

He bites down on his lip viciously. He’s an awful friend, an awful person all around.

But his heart beats and he knows. This isn’t the kind of quiet he was looking for. 

**

Chanyeol wakes with a gasp and a flail, dislodging the pillow that’s been suffocating him.

“If I’m up, you’re up,” Jongin says, stalking out of the room. Chanyeol collapses back on his bed with a groan. 

He aches something fierce. Concert preparations have begun in earnest and they’re spending hours and hours each day in the studio, running through the choreography and the details of the performance, taking promotional photoshoots, and scheduling fittings for stage outfits. All he’s had time to eat have been convenience store sausages and ramen, all eaten while he’s barely awake. Sometimes he wakes up with a half-eaten sausage on the pillow next to him.

If the managers and trainers are feeling nice, they’ll order food for them. Junmyeon sometimes talks about taking them all out to eat, but even he can’t seem to muster up the morale to drag all of them to some restaurant after practicing for hours, just another stop before home and bed. The farthest they’ve managed has been the tteokbokki place nearby, and only once at that. It’s one of the first places they went as trainees who would debut under EXO. Returning instills humility and awe at how far they’ve come now. To remember what they wished for themselves, what already seemed like a pipe dream, and to know this is where they are now, preparing for a world tour. Sehun especially seems to gain energy from going there and it cheers the members up, to see the maknae excited and regaling them with stories from pre-debut that they’re all heard a hundred times already.

It’s hard to keep the momentum, though. After a few minutes spent battling sleep, Chanyeol flips himself over. He grabs his phone and does a cursory check while he’s heading to the bathroom. He sets the phone down on the counter and calls.

Ring, ring, ring….

The voicemail kicks in while he’s in the middle of washing his face. 

“Happy Sunday morning,” he says. “It’s… 3:07 AM right now, crap, that’s really early, isn’t it…. Sorry if I woke you up, go back to sleep, back to sleep…” He dithers, unsure whether he should hang up or not. “But since you’re up anyway if you’re listening to this, hey… Jongin actually woke me up today. I think his back’s been bothering him again and I guess I’ve been really tired because of the concerts coming up. I… I hope I’ll still see you there? You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, though! I understand…” Emptiness settles in him at the thought. You haven’t missed any of the tour kick-offs or the DOTs. “Anyways, I should get going… If you ever need me, ever need to talk or anything, I’ll be right--”

The voicemail ends abruptly, his here echoing in the bathroom.

Jongin knocks on the door. “Five minutes, Chanyeol!”

**

It’s 2:41 AM the following day, and Chanyeol’s just stumbling out of the bathroom before he falls into unconsciousness for a few hours. Practice had been an all day affair. He hardly feels like a person at this point. He sets his alarm on his phone and then jerks and sits up. 

“Shit.”

1 Missed Call From Lucky Charm 2 minutes ago

He presses the call back button frantically. “Come on, come on,” he mutters, chewing on a fingernail, leg jumping up and down.

The call goes to voicemail.

“Come on!” he whisper-screams at his phone, shaking it. “It’s been two minutes, where could you have gone in two minutes?!” 

He calls again.

It rings and rings and there’s a click that has him hoping, believing--

“Chanyeol.”

It must be the shock. He didn’t actually believe you would pick up. He sits there, dumb, staring at nothing until his eyes begin to water. 

“Chanyeoool,” he hears you whine. There’s a little beep and you start muttering something.

“Hey,” he says softly. “What’s up?”

“It’s your fault. Can’t get in.” 

He frowns. The way you’re talking…

“Are you drunk?”

“Like I said,” your voice is pointed this time, “this is all your fault.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” He’s already standing, searching for a jacket. 

“I can’t get into my apartment.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t get into my apartment, Chanyeol!” He hears a beep and a thud.

“Okay, okay, don’t yell. Did you forget your pass code again?” It’s hard to fight the smile that creeps up on him. How many times has he had to do this?

You don’t say anything for a long time and he has to hold the phone away and clap a hand over his mouth to stifle his chuckle. You’re extra irritable when drunk and have a habit at taking offense at everything. 

“It’s 12671, dummy.”

“It’s not and I am not a dummy.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t even try!”

“I did. It’s wrong.”

“Try it again.”

There’s a sigh and then he can hear the soft beeps as you press the numbers in and the little tone that plays back when it’s entered incorrectly.

“I told you.”

He frowns this time. “Are you sure you put it in right? One.”

“One.” A corresponding beep.

“Two.”

“Two...”

It goes on like that until the same tone from before plays.

You huff over the line. “I told you.”

“I bet you didn’t change your battery,” he says, shoving one arm into his hoodie. “Hold on.” He sets his phone down while he slides on the rest of the hoodie, ruffles his hair, and quickly presses the phone back up to his ear.

“--changed them.”

“When did you change them?” He slips out of his room and pads to the entrance. The automatic light clicks on and he kicks the mound of shoes around until he finds a pair of his buried at the bottom.

“Three weeks ago? Yeah. Something like that…..” He can hear the sleep settling in your voice and his heart picks up its pace in urgency.

“Okay, okay… Listen, I’ll be right over. You’re alone, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Then stay there,” he says, pointing a finger although you can’t see it. “I’ll be there soon, so just hang out a little, okay?”

“See you soon, Chanyeollie.”

It takes ten minutes driving to get to your area. Chanyeol runs into the nearest convenience store to buy batteries, pulling his hood up on the way. The cashier doesn’t seem to register who he is as she quietly reads out his total and lets him go without question once he’s paid. 

Five minutes later, he’s sprinting down the hallway to your door. He slows the closer he gets. He can see straight through to the end, and you are nowhere in sight. Chanyeol spins around, glancing in the opposite direction, but the same scene unravels before him. Empty.

Dread begins to sink in. Maybe you got in? He rings the doorbell, standing in frame of the telecom camera. A minute ticks by and there’s no answer. 

It’s okay, he tries to reassure himself even as his heart drops. Maybe you just fell into a drunken slumber once you got inside. You had sounded tired over the phone and he knows your drinking habits.

He flicks open the keypad. The light is green, so the batteries should still be good. That’s a good sign at least, there’s a chance you could be inside. He enters the code and is immediately denied. 

Again, he tries, slower this time, repeating the numbers in his head. 12671.

Rejected.

Not once, in all the time that he’s known you, has he been locked out like this. That this has happened now, after the biggest fight the two of you had ever had, feels personal. Like you meant to keep him out. And the strangest thing is, now that he’s locked out, it’s not just you he misses. He misses this place, the security of it and the good memories harbored within. It’s home in a way that the dorms aren’t, not even his childhood bedroom. 

All the horrendous thoughts of what might have happened flit through his head. He’s spent so much time, so much time, trying to keep you safe. Sure, he’s told you of sasaengs hiring cars to follow him around or some of the creepy letters he’s gotten. But never all of it. Not the time that that housekeeper ambushed him in a hotel, trying to lock him in with her in the bathroom. Or the time that a restaurant owner, upset with how much his daughter mooned over him, had hauled him up by the collar and threatened to sick his gang connections on him if he didn’t  either marry his daughter or disappear. All that time he had been protecting you. He kept careful boundaries, everything he never said meant to be a buffer, a deterrent to keep all the monsters haunting him from reaching you. Not once did he ever suspect that he, himself, could be one of them.

“What did you do,” he moans quietly to himself. He grabs his phone and makes another call. It goes straight to voicemail this time. Your phone’s either off or dead.

He scrubs a hand over his face and tries the code one more time. It doesn’t let him in. He starts pounding on the door, just long enough before he gets too nervous that your neighbors might come check what’s going on.

Where are you??? He texts.  I’m outside your door. I told you to stay put. Are you okay? Call me back as soon as you see this If I don’t hear back from you by morning I’m gonna call the police I’m not kidding Please call me back 

**

Despite his complete and utter exhaustion, it is almost impossible for Chanyeol to sleep that night. He paces around the apartment, prepared to rush out at the drop of a hat. A few times, he turns to wake up another member. He can’t handle this alone. It feels like there’s too little air and too much quiet. Pressure builds in his ears.

But then he remembers what you said. It’s your fault. This is all your fault. He’s worthless, isn’t he. Can’t do anything. Why does he always try to get other people to solve his problems?

Chanyeol sits on the couch with the TV on in the background, cradling his phone in his palm. He feels paralyzed. He nods off a couple times only to jerk back awake a moment later, desperately checking his phone. 

He makes no less than 72 calls that night.

**

At 5:19 AM, his phone pings.

I’m fine the text says. I fell asleep at a friend’s Attached is a blurry image of you, cheek mushed against a pillow accompanied by a sleepy smile and a victory sign. Sorry for worrying you You can go to sleep now, Yeollie

Junmyeon walks out to find Chanyeol crying.

“Chanyeol?” he asks. “What’s going on?”

Blurry-eyed, Chanyeol gets up from the couch and rushes over to Junmyeon, who folds him into a hug. He curls into the leader, smaller and smaller.

“She’s okay,” he mumbles wetly against Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Thank God. She’s safe.”

**

A/N: Thank you, as always, for reading! It’s been a while since I updated this story. I am wishing you all happiness and health. If this story comes as a welcome distraction, so much the better.