#many a fic have been written about them having sex on the piano i’m sure

[notwithaste]

….. what did i just watch

because i know i did ~ not just watch jack playing the piano and phryne joining him and them singing lets misbehave while making love eyes at each other 💀

and the WAY i know i did not just watch that is because there is no way that scene finishes any other way but with him hoisting her up on that piano and misbehaving 🏌🏻‍♀️

jack robinson time to pursue your modern woman in bed

[missallsundaes]

Usopp is my favorite character! And I was so excited to see that you love him too 🥰 there aren’t many stories about him and I was wondering if I could ask that you write another when you found the time? Maybe something smutty? Or fluffy? Or both after he and reader reunite again after the time skip? Where he’s confident now that reader will notice him but obvi they already did ♥️

UHM I love Usopp so fucking much you are so valid he's one of my fav characters of all time.

SO rereading your request after I got an idea, I realized that you asked for… a hook up post time skip but like. I couldn’t not do a big fluffy “i missed you so much” reunion after two years so they have a prev relationship but returned with Usopp being more confident and reader learning things about themself haha.

This is so fluffy and so gushy but also nsfw. It’s cringe worthy sweet because I’m a fucking sucker for Usopp and I want him to be happy.

This turned out so much longer than I meant for it to, bc I was just going to do a drabble but here’s this 1900 word fic, haha.

TLDR: MUSHY fic bc Usopp deserves happiness.

NSFW undercut but it's just like.. Very loving emotional sex. No real kinks but there is crying during sex, but not written to be kinky.

______________________

“USOPP!” You screamed, running at top speed, past all of your other crew mates and straight into the arms of your boyfriend. Sure you were happy to see the other Straw Hats, but there was only one man who your heart beat for, and finally after two years apart, here he was.

He braced himself for your hug and you felt him lift you up and spin you around in his arms, “[y/n] oh my god I missed you!” He was all smiles, kissing across your face and holding you as close as he could, your feet still far from the ground.

His arms were more defined, muscles you weren’t used to feeling, flexing against your body to hold you up. “Wow you’ve been busy,” You smiled, kissing him back, hands finding their way to his strong arms. “Are you sure this is my Usopp?”

He laughed, setting you down, smiling the bright smile you missed so much, “What, you don’t remember all of this?” He joked, flexing both of his arms for you, acting out mock scenes of strength and showing off the rippling muscles that you didn’t quite know that you were into until well, just now.

You touched his exposed chest, fingers lingering over hard abs, “Well maybe I just forgot how absolutely strong my brave warrior was..”

You smiled at him, raising your chin to kiss his soft lips. Your words causing him to blush a bit, clearly melting at your praise, before returning your kiss, his arms wrapping around you again, hands in the small of your back to hold you close to him as he deepened the kiss passionately, clearly he had missed you just as much, ached for you just as much. These past two years had been hell, but finally everyone was back together.

“Get a room you two,” You heard someone laugh from behind you, and you suddenly realized how handsy you were being, how absolutely embarrassingly clingy you were being, causing you to flush a beet red.

The party the first night back on the Sunny was, no contest, one of the most fun nights you had ever had with your crew. Sanji had prepared a feast so big that even Luffy was having trouble by the end of the night, everyone catching each other up on the years apart and enjoying being with their family again. Everyone had grown so much in two years, both in visibly noticeable differences and emotionally. Everyone was still who you remembered, but matured. You supposed the same thing could be said about yourself, even though you couldn’t point out in yourself what had changed.

Drinks had flowed freely, Brook providing the most excellent of tunes, laughter and familiarity unbounded. How you had missed this. More than you realized. Just being together, being a family and feeling comfortable.

It was getting late now, and your head swam a bit from the drinks in you, despite how much you had eaten to soak it up. Cuddled up under the tangerine trees on the deck you were wrapped in Usopp’s arms, sitting between his thighs, his face pressed between your neck and collarbone comfortably, occasionally leaving kisses. He hummed in tune to the music on the deck below, Brook playing the piano and singing, Luffy and Sanji had drunkenly joined in singing along, not keeping the tune nearly as well.

“I missed you so much,” He said, arms squeezing you tightly, like he couldn’t get close enough, “I was so worried about you, I wish I could have just heard your voice.”

“C’mon, Uso,” You smiled, leaning against him and holding his arms under yours sweetly, “I’m a big girl, you know I can hold my own.”

“You’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you,” He said, the tone in his voice so honest and clear with you, even tinged with the slur of his drink. “I must be the luckiest man sailing the seas.”

Your face was flushed, thankful for the darkening sky hiding it, “Shush you, it’s just the drink talking.” You patted his arm with your hand, as if to shush him.

“I mean it, you’re so gorgeous, you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed about my whole life,” His voice broke a little and you felt hot tears on your shoulder, “I was worried you wouldn’t wait for me the two years, I’d die if you realized how much better you were than me.”

“No no, none of that!” You said, spinning around suddenly, bumping noses with him as you turned, “You’re so much more than what you think of yourself.” You locked lips with the marksman, kissing deeper and more brazen than you meant, the passion getting to you.

His lips parted, and you took the opportunity to slip your tongue between them, his hands finding your hips as he deepened the kiss. Has he always been this good at kissing? Or was it the drink? Or how much you had missed each other's bodies?

“If we snuck off to the rooms, no one would notice,” You whispered, lips still touching his lips as you spoke. You smiled as you watched the blush spread across his cheeks, one thing hadn’t changed at least, he was so easy to fluster.

Your hand trailed down his chest, lingering on his waist, teasing at the last section of exposed skin before his trousers.

He tried to stutter out a reply, but ended up just nodding his head quickly as a response, lifting you up in a quick motion, carrying you bridal style down to the cabins below deck.

He set you down gently on the bed, treating you like a princess, kissing you and trailing those kisses down to your neck and chest, unbuttoning your blouse and kissing your breasts gently, always using such a soft touch with you.

“You’re so gorgeous,” He whispered against your skin, “So perfect.”

He climbed into bed next to you, hands slipping under your trousers, touching your body over your undergarments, his lips finding yours again, kissing you as you found your hands exploring his body. It would take some getting used to the new terrain under your fingers, where he was such a beanpole before, he had obviously trained so hard over the last two years, and his body was so familiar but so different.

Kissing and fondling quickly becoming more heated between you, he unbuttoned his coveralls, kicking them off his legs to the ground below the bed. You followed suit in quick succession, tossing your blouse aside and kicking off trousers to join his on the floor. His hands wrapped around your back to unhook your bra without breaking the kiss, you slipping your arms free of the straps and letting him toss it away.

His strong hand, more rough than you remembered, found its way to your heat again, slipping his hand under your panties, fumbling a bit in the moment before finding your clit with a gasp from you, some things hadn’t changed, really. His fingers slipped down your slit to find the moistening of your opening, dragging your slick back up to your clit to make his movements smoother, rolling your clit in circles under his fingers.

His mouth left yours, to trail kisses to your neck, leaving gentle marks against your skin, adjusting his weight on the bed until his mouth was at your breasts, his other hand cupping a breast to his mouth, a flash of tongue against your nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, kneading the soft flesh in his calloused hand.

“Usopp, please,” You moaned under his ministrations on your body, “I want you.”

You felt him freeze a bit, always easy to fluster, always easy to shy away. You stifled a laugh, “C’mon Uso~” you purred, arching your back and adjusting your legs to press your thigh against his member through his boxers, feeling the damp of his precum even through his underwear. “Please?”

“W-well I can’t very well deny such a request from a Goddess, can I?” He said masking a stutter and sliding your underwear from your hips before pulling his off and adjusting.

You looked down, eyes widening, “Usopp I know.. I keep saying you’ve grown but.. Did your dick.. Get bigger?” There was no doubt to you that there was at least another inch on your boyfriend’s length.

He looked down, having not thought about it before, “Uh.. oh.. Maybe?” He laughed, “Not too scary for you I hope.”

“No,” You said, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him down on top of you, “Just be gentle with me, it’s been a while even without the extra size..”

“Always,” He said, kissing you again as he slid his length into your waiting sex, letting you adjust to his cock as he did. Fully inside of you he gave you a moment to adjust, “Ready?” He said, and you nodded, eyes half lidded and biting your lip.

He started thrusting against you, a steady pace, his hands firmly gripping your hips to piston his hips against you. The air between you was hot and heavy, full of your desperate breath, your mouths barely separating except to let moans slip between your lips. Your hands found his hair, slipping your hands to the back of his head, fingers threaded through his thick curls, gripping him closer to you as his pace quickened from the passion between you.

It wasn’t long before you felt the familiar feeling of an orgasm building within you, taut like a rubberband, ready to snap with each pump of his hips into you, his pace steady but getting sloppier as he neared his own orgasm.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him closer to you, his pumping action now more shallow but hitting you deeper, rubbing that sweet spot inside you that you swear he wasn’t long enough to hit the last time you were together, and god it was driving you crazy.

“I’m going to cum, Usopp,” You moaned against his lips, arching your back against his chest and pressing your sex into him desperately.

“Come for me, baby,” He moaned, pulling you into him rhythmically, “I’m close too.” His confidence in telling you to come for him was all it took to push you to that edge, feeling your orgasm take over your body you moaned his name loudly, fingers gripping in his hair for dear life.

Your body tightening on his cock was all it took for him to release his own orgasm, pumping inside you until your own orgasm had subsided, then pulling out to splash his slick jizz across your stomach, secondary pumps splashing lower, covering your body in his seed.

His lips met yours again and you felt tears splash your cheeks as he let his body fall into yours, curling up next to you to hold you close to him. “I love you so much, so so much,” he cried, huge tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

You felt your own tears pooling, threatening to spill over your lids. “Shuush, don’t cry Usopp,” you trailed your hand across his cheek lovingly, “I love you so much, you’re my everything.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” He said, looking into your eyes with all the love and devotion in his heart.

“I could say the same thing, my darling.” You said, kissing his nose, “We’ll never be apart again.”

[jovialyouthmusic]

Past Times

I have spent some time writing and rearranging this chapter - so much so that when it went way over 4K I realised that it would be better to split it into two shorter chapters. Recent interest in Netflix’s Bridgerton has brought a lot of interest to this period.

I must make some comment about Regency costumes as I understand it from various articles I’ve read. I’m perfectly happy to be told I’m wrong, but I’m not trying to be super accurate, just have a little fun. Knickers or drawers were most probably not worn, as these became more popular in Victorian times (most likely split crotch to make it easier to go to the bathroom). This sounds kind of impractical, but they still wore long chemises and petticoats, and well born young ladies probably had many such garments that were regularly washed for them. Corsets were not quite as restrictive as later times, but they still pushed the bust up and put it on show, particularly in the case of fancy ballgowns - after all, at a ball, young ladies were trying to attract a husband. 

I chose to set my fic in Scotland, but again it’s not terribly authentic, as rather than Dukes and Earls there would have been Lairds and the various clans. However, society in Edinburgh may have been a little more like London - and - my fic, my AU! Also there is a lot written about Regency England, and not so much about Scotland unless you want to go delving into Sir Walter Scott’s novels - and maybe I will sometime soon.

As I’ve probably made all too obvious, most well born young women had no sex education at all, and may have relied on romantic novels (which were in their infancy, but they were available) and perhaps observing animals. They were kept in ignorance so that they would be innocent and unsullied on their wedding night. 

Word count 2638

A/N This chapter is a little suggestive rather than explicit. Basically the first part concerns the MC undressing whilst wondering what her wedding night will be like, and in the second part she asks a married friend all of her burning questions, and gets some frank answers. No under 18s please.

12a Underwear and Undercurrents

It was but a few minutes before Lizzie had gone upstairs with Morag, checked on her sister and retired to her room with a candle. She kicked off her slippers and went to her dressing table to unfasten and brush her hair. She had told Jane that she would undress herself that night, and reached to the back of her dress to fumble with the lacing. It was not easy, but it occurred to her that she should not be helpless, always depending on a maid to dress and undress her. 

She wondered what might happen when she was wed at last and alone on her first night with her husband. Surely the very first thing she might do was to undress. Would she do that in private, or would John be present? Would she undress herself, or would he assist her? Would she slip into bed in her nightgown or would other things happen? The thought sent her pulse racing as the laces loosened and she pushed her dress smoothly off to step out of it elegantly.

She hung her dress up carefully, wondering if on the night it would lay forgotten and discarded on the floor. She stood facing the looking glass in the dim candlelight in her chemise, corset, petticoat and stockings with a critical eye. If she were to undress herself, perhaps John would watch her, she thought with a thrill. Who should disrobe first? Would he take his clothes off himself, or would he ask her to assist? She knew little of the morning dressing routine of gentlemen or of what they did when retiring for the night, but John had a manservant - surely he assisted some of the time?

Perhaps she should practice for the instance of having no maid to assist her, and presume that John would be present and watching. Pushing down the flutter in her belly, she paid it her full attention. She should be graceful and poised – no stumbling or fumbling with strings, bows or buttons, no grimace at any mistake, major or minor. She should not appear too coquettish or unladylike. What should come next after her dress?

‘Stockings’ she whispered to herself. She pulled up her petticoat and ran her fingers along her legs to peel the first  elegantly down. Her breath hitched as she brushed her thighs and bit her lip in concentration. When both were removed, they were hung on the back of a chair, leaving her in her stays, chemise and petticoats, and again she contemplated what to do next.

‘Off with the stays’ she muttered. The one she wore that day was not the tight laced corset that underlay her best and finest gowns, but not as soft as one she might wear at home on a warm summers day. She would not have had a chance of getting out of her formal wear unaided, and she still had to contort herself a little to remove what she wore that night. There was no way she could do it elegantly without a great deal of practice, she thought, but perhaps John would aid her, should she need him to do so. That thought made her feel a little hot, and she took a deep breath.

She reached around awkwardly to unfasten the laces and sighed in relief as she was able to let it drop over her hips and step out of it. She still wore her loose chemise and petticoats. What next? That was easy, for she could not imagine standing before John without her petticoats. She elegantly removed and folded her chemise, putting it aside with her other garments. She stared at herself in the mirror, breasts bare, and could not help but blush. She shook her head. Why should she be ashamed of her body? She was sure John would appreciate her, whatever shape she had. After all, he had been married before and had assured her that his previous wife had enjoyed being intimate with him. She was not entirely sure whether to be grateful that he had experience, or to worry that she would not measure up to expectation, but she put that aside for now.

She took a deep breath and unfastened the drawstring on her petticoats, which fell easily to the floor, leaving her naked. She looked at herself in the mirror, turning round in the flickering light. She realised with a shock that she had never done so before. Her girlish straight lines were developing into the curves of a woman, and she felt as if she looked at a stranger. Her breasts were small and rounded, her waist slim with a little softness about her belly. She had coarse black hair at her mound, her buttocks were round and firm, her legs strong and slender, her ankles trim and her feet delicate. She frowned as she realised that she knew little of what would come next, and her imagination could not fill in the blanks beyond kissing and touching each other as they already had. She could barely picture what John’s appearance without clothes would be, beyond having seen bare chested labourers in the fields around the family farm. She was not even sure if what came next would occur in bed or out of it.

Sighing heavily, she bent to pick up and fold her petticoats, and went to the bed where her nightdress lay ready for her. She slipped the garment over her head and pushed her arms through the short puffed sleeves. The hem of the long cotton garment fell to her ankles, and she blew out the candle and threw back the bedcovers to climb in and draw them over her, certain that it would take some time to fall asleep. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling for a while, but before long she lay on her side, curling into a ball to imagine herself held safe in John’s arms, and fell deeply asleep in an instant.

------

The following day was warm and bright, and after breakfast she and John went out for a walk, accompanied by Tom and Dorothea, and Amelia tagged along. Before lunch they went back in to play cards and practice playing the piano, for more guests were to arrive the following day, and after that there was to be a ball to introduce her to the local nobility.

After they had taken their luncheon, Sir James, John and Tom declared they would go out shooting game. Dorothea drew Lizzie aside and proposed a walk alone with her. She agreed readily, and the two women set off outside, leaving Amelia and Lady Charlotte to keep Lady Margaret company. The afternoon was overcast but still warm, and Elizabeth wore a simple pale blue dress and matching bonnet, should the sun come out and threaten to redden her complexion.

‘My dear Lizzie, it comes to my mind that you have no older sisters’ Dorothea said ‘Do you have any married friends to hold confidence with?’

‘I fear I do not. My closest acquaintance has but recently acquired a beau. She will be here for the Ball and I look forward to seeing her. I’m sure you will like her.’ she replied as they strolled through the rose garden.

‘Perhaps I may, but I was thinking that I can be your confidante and answer any questions you might have about married life’ she smiled ‘I was lucky to have good advice to prepare me for my wedding night, but not all are so fortunate’ Elizabeth grew wide eyed.

‘That would be most welcome. Mother has told me little, and although John has revealed a few details to me, I would hear from one of my own sex as to some particulars. My previous fiancé did not so much as hold my hand before I discovered his unsuitability.’ The two women came to the little arbour where she had stopped to kiss John only a day or so ago, and they sat together, shielded from prying eyes and ears.

‘Please Lizzie, ask me anything, do not be shy. And Call me Dottie, if you will’ Elizabeth felt a rush of gratitude and tried to marshal the many questions that flooded her mind. She frowned in concentration.

‘Well Dottie, John says to me that there are ways of ensuring that we will not have children straight away, but it puzzles me. I dare not tell him that I know not what causes the bearing of children’ Dorothea nodded sagely.

‘It is so for many genteel ladies. We are prevented from being alone with men outside our family, and many mothers feel it indelicate to go into details.’ Dottie assured her. ‘The lower classes are much more informed than we, for they do not have estates to pass down to their heirs and bloodlines do not matter to them’

‘But lowborn and highborn alike, we all bear children. How does it come about?’ Dotty took Lizzie’s hands in her own and squeezed them gently.

‘Let me first say that you are fortunate, my dear. You have a treasure in John. He clearly loves you, and he is a considerate and honourable man. You may have seen young women of your acquaintance married off to older richer men’ She grimaced in distaste. ‘In some cases, a man cares only about his wife bearing him an heir and ignores her feelings and sensibilities’

‘Of course I know something of that.’ Elizabeth replied ‘I had a cousin who married a Lord some twenty years her senior. She bore him a fine boy, but a year later died in giving birth to a girl. It scares me to think of her passing so young.’

‘That is a danger, to be sure. I have been married a year now, and my mother constantly asks when I will come to be with child. We have tried, but so far have not been successful. I am not sure whether it is a blessing or not’

‘So you have tried? May I ask...’

‘Of course, I was coming to that. Lizzie, may I ask you something personal?’

‘Naturally, Dottie. I have asked you to be frank, so I must be also’

‘Do you – touch yourself when you are alone in your bedchamber?’

‘I – I am not sure what you mean.’ Lizzy felt herself grow hot with embarrassment.

‘Before you sleep, do you explore your body? Does thinking of John inspire you to…’

‘Oh – Mama said once that it was not seemly’ Lizzie mumbled awkwardly. Dotty sighed.

‘That is a shame. Lizzie, I charge you that if you want to be prepared for your wedding night, you should know more about yourself so that you may direct John. Some women discover things about themselves that are very useful when they marry.’

‘What should I do? I do not want to disappoint my husband’

‘Rest assured you cannot disappoint, but you can be more prepared, more aware of your sex.’ She patted her hand ‘How do you feel when John kisses you? You certainly seemed to enjoy it last night’

‘I – yes, it makes me feel – dizzy. I have told him how it makes me tingle’

‘Is there a place where you feel it the most?’

‘Yes’ she lowered her voice ‘between my legs, and there is warmth where I feel the ache on my monthly cycle’

‘That is good, Lizzie. The place where you bleed – your sex - is the place in to which John must place his seed in order for you to have a child’

‘Oh!’ she looked astonished ‘I had wondered, for those that bleed in the romances I have read are in turn relieved or devastated that it signals that they will not bear a child – but of course, it makes sense. But how does he plant that seed?’

‘You have seen pictures and sculptures of naked men, have you not?’

‘Of course, but I don’t see how…’

‘It would be improper to depict men in the state they achieve in order to plant their seed.’ Dorothea smiled ‘Though who decided that, I know not, and there are gentlemen who are rumoured to have art that depicts such things, and titillating depictions of unclothed ladies.’ She moved a little closer and lowered her voice, though they were quite private. ‘When a man desires a woman, and in other instances, his member becomes hard, and often it also grows larger. Then it is possible to enter or penetrate a woman’s sex and plant their seed’

‘That sounds – uncomfortable’ Elizabeth said dubiously, her head reeling at the thought.

‘That depends on your partner’ Dotty assured her ‘I am certain that John will make sure you enjoy it, for it can be the most sublime and heavenly experience. The first time can indeed be painful, but only for a short instance.’

‘Romantic novels would have us believe it is highly pleasurable. Is it really true?’

‘Not always, but very often if you have a considerate partner’ Dotty laughed. ‘What you can do to prepare yourself is to explore your sex when you are alone in your bedchamber. You can discover where you like to be touched, and how. Of course, it is somewhat different when your husband touches you, but it can be better if you direct him as to what pleases you.’ Elizabeth nodded, taking it all in. But still she had questions.

‘You mentioned seed – what is it?’ she asked, and this time it was Dottie’s turn to look uncomfortable. She considered her words carefully before she spoke.

‘His seed - is rather like milk or cream, thick and white, and shoots from his member at the climax of the act. There is a great deal of pleasure for him, after which he grows soft again. You will have a similar climax which they say is essential for bearing children, and necessary for your health. You say that John has inferred that you may delay having children. He most likely means that if he withdraws his member before he emits his seed, you may remain childless, as it will not reach your womb to bear fruit.’ She patted her hand ‘There are other things you may do that give you both pleasure without penetration and emission of seed, but I will leave you to discover that for yourself.’ Elizabeth frowned, almost overcome at the bombardment of information, but relieved that she knew more of what was to come upon her marriage to John.

‘This may sound silly – but what is special about marriage that facilitates the creation of a child?’ Dotty laughed.

‘Nothing at all my dear, one does not have to be married to have a child. That is but a ceremony. It is a piece of paper, a contract made between you and your husband and sanctified by the Church and by law. Without that, any two people of any rank in society may have physical relations in this way.’ Elizabeth drew a deep breath.

‘You have opened my eyes, Dotty. I am so grateful to you for telling me what I need to know. Why it is all kept so secret I cannot fathom’ Her friend patted her hand.

‘You must show no sign of knowing these things, save to your fiancé. In turn you may instruct your sister before she is wed – but only if you are certain of her affections. It would not do to have such knowledge without a serious and certain offer of marriage. Now Lizzie, unless you have more questions, perhaps we should continue with our walk’

‘I have much to think about indeed, and I think that is enough for now’ Elizabeth rose, and they continued their walk, speaking easily of trivial things before returning to the house to prepare for dinner.

@sirbeepsalot​ @camillemontespan​​ @dcbbw​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @katedrakeohd​ @trappedinfandoms​ @kingliam2019​ @nomadics-stuff​ @texaskitten30​ @princess-geek​ @texaskitten30 @fluffyfirewhiskey

[fanfictionaries]

Love’s in the Little Things - SherryBaby14′s Prompt Challenge

Prompt: Steve and a musician. Like she plays the piano and writes her own music; does small gigs here and there. They meet while he’s at one of her gigs, would bond over music. Sex on he Piano. Something intimate, soothing and musical.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader

Summary: A little story following the progression of Steve and a musician falling in love. With a little added extra at the end! 

Warnings: Smut, Love-making, FLUFF! A tiny dash of Angst, Mentions of death

Words: 6.3k

Author’s Note: Thank you @sherrybaby14 for this lovely prompt. I got the opportunity to join my two passions together - writing and music. Stick around till the end of the fic for a little bonus tidbit (written and performed by yours truly)! 

Also - I switched the timeline around involving some character deaths to suit my own person story needs. 

*** 

“You realize this is the fifth time he’s been in here this month. If you don’t make a move now, he may never come back,” said Roxy, pouring you your pre-performance liquid courage.

“Oh please, Rox. He’s just here with his friends. I highly doubt he’s here to see me,” you scoffed, knocking back the shot. The alcohol burned as it trickled down your throat, the effects immediately going to your head, giving you a light, fuzzy feeling. In reality, the shot wouldn’t hit your blood stream for at least a few minutes, but the placebo effect also did wonders for your confidence.

It didn’t matter how many times you did this – got up on stage in front of people and performed for them – it was still nerve wracking. Older musicians always advised you that it would get easier with time. One day you’d feel more comfortable on stage than you did off. Well, five years and you were still waiting for that day. Therefore, the last thing you needed was the ridiculous notion that Captain America was coming to a little dive bar to hear you perform. It was too much pressure.

“I’d consider that true if it weren’t for the fact that he only ever comes in here when you’re here.” Roxy, one of your closest friends and the bartender at your regular paying gig location, eyed you and then the group of gargantuan superheroes in the far corner. There were three of them tonight. Sometimes there’d be more, a few more guys and the occasional girl, but no matter what, it was always those three. You were pretty sure you knew who they were – it was hard not to. There was Sam (The Falcon); he was usually the chattiest out of the three, flirting with women and loudly cracking jokes. Then there was the moody one, Bucky you thought his name was; he was quiet but seemed good-humored and kind behind the eyes. Lastly, there was Steve. He was somewhere in the middle. Livelier than Bucky, but not nearly as attention seeking as Sam. And, for lack of trying you couldn’t help but notice the way he watched you with rapt attention every time you performed. You figured it was just him being a polite audience member. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. What could Captain America possibly want with a dive bar musician?

“Coincidence at best. Besides, how could he possibly know what nights I’m performing? They line-up isn’t posted,” you reasoned, checking your makeup in the mirror behind the bar.  

“True, but who’s to say he didn’t come up to the bar one night and ask for the monthly line-up? And who’s to say I didn’t give him a copy with all your performance nights highlighted?” Roxy proposed, looking away from you to polish a glass and place it on the shelf behind her.

“What? You didn’t!” you exclaimed, chancing a glance at the super soldier to see his eyes trained on you, before looking away bashfully to his friends, who immediately began to give him a hard time. Or at least you assumed that’s what they were doing based on the teasing punches and boyish looks they gave you and then him.  Your gut flipped. Maybe Roxy was lying to get on your nerves. That had to be the only plausible option.

“Alright—” began the DJ, Matthew, stopping the music and bringing everyone’s attention to the stage “—tonight we have a regular to the stage. If you’re an alcoholic then you’ve seen her here plenty of times, and if this is your first time joining us, welcome but what took you so long?” A smattering of laughter flitted across the bar. Looking back over, you found Steve smiling politely at the joke. God he was handsome…

“Give it up for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”

Applause filled the air as you walked to the stage, exchanging niceties with Matthew before sitting down to the piano. You breathed deeply, trying to quell your nerves, but that night they seemed to be on overdrive. Heart rate elevated, the alcohol in your stomach burned. Closing your eyes, you placed your fingers to the keys and let the familiarity of them calm you. You could do this. Going into a simple chord progression, you began the intro to your first song. It was a simple little number, nothing too controversial, too fast, or too slow. Just enough of a pep to grab the people’s attention, without being assaulting to the ears. It was fun and you always found it livened the room up nicely. By the time it was over, your nerves had cooled a bit, but your hands still possessed a subtle tremor. So, diverting from the normal path, you did a cover for your second song. A tried and true rendition of Falling in Love with Love by Fred Astaire. The chords and words were familiar like a childhood blanket, the song bringing you back to watching your mom and dance in the kitchen as a child. It was when you moved into your original work again, a sweet little thing about sunny mornings and fresh spring mountains, that your eyes caught Steve’s as you looked out into the crowd. The dim fluorescents of the bar lights illuminated him like a spotlight, swirls of dust floating around his figure in the musty bar air. Illuminated in hazy golden light, he looked as though the heavens had opened up to present him just for you. Flaxen haired and clear, blue eyes, he looked reminiscent of another time. And you guessed, he technically was. But he looked at you like a man seeing a beautiful piece of artwork for the first time – his gaze so intense, so openly earnest and honest, you couldn’t help but stare back.

You didn’t look away the whole time.

After your set, you found yourself sticking around – something you almost never did. But you knew you couldn’t just flee from the establishment like normal. Not when you performed for one person and one person only that night. After about twenty minutes you began to wonder if you had been wrong. Maybe the connection had been in your head. No, it definitely wasn’t in your head. Maybe you should just go up to him? After all, this was the 21st century. Women approached men all the time. But then again, he was from a different time. What if he found it insulting? Or too forward? You were still debating the pros and cons of the situation when a tap on your shoulder brought you out of your musings.

Looking up and expecting to see Roxy or maybe even Steve, you were surprised to see his friend.

“Hey, I’m Bucky. I just have to say, great performance tonight,” he said casually, extending a hand.

You took it tentatively, shaking his hand. Confused as to why he was talking to you but not wanting to be rude you gave him a small smile, “Thanks. I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you Bucky.”

“Listen, I’m gonna cut straight to the point. I need a favor from you (Y/N).” Bucky proposed, running a hand through his slicked brown hair.

Intrigued, you leaned against the bar top behind you, “Okay, I’ll bite. What can I do for you?”

“You see my friend over there?” He pointed across the bar to Steve, who was currently looking anywhere but at the two of you. “Well, I’ve got a bit of a problem, because he keeps dragging us to this bar every weekend and as much as I like it here, I just want a quiet Saturday night in, ya know? Now, he’d never admit that he told me this, but he thinks you’re pretty much the coolest thing since sliced bread – which is a high compliment as he was actually there for the invention of sliced bread.”

“Is that so?” you asked, trying to suppress the wave of giddiness his words created.

“Yea, he looks great for his age, right?”

“So, what’s the favor then?”

“Well—” he began, drawing his face into an exaggerated eyeroll “—for some reason, while the man is completely unfazed by jumping out of exploding buildings, he can’t build up the courage to come and talk to you. So, your favor to me, would be to just look over there and wave him over so that I can go home and watch The Great British Bake Off.”

“The Great British Bake Off? Really?”

Bucky shrugged, “It’s heartwarming and educational.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to him. But what about your other friend? Mister Tall, Dark, and Goofy?” you asked, looking to Sam who was currently attempting to tell your golden-haired man some kind of story that required an enormous amount of arm movement. The comment earned you a guffaw from Bucky.

“Him? He’ll be fine. He’s already got the bartender’s number. I think they’re leaving together after her shift is over.”

Jaw dropping in shock, you looked to Roxy and pointed to Sam in question. She shrugged, an excited smile on her face as she turned back to her customers.

“Alright,” you agreed, shaking your head. “Go enjoy Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood. I’ll take good care of your friend.”

***

“What?! That can’t possibly be true. I feel like you’re lying to me right now.”

“No, it’s the honest to God truth. Bing Crosby came right up to me and shook my hand,” said Steve, large hands wrapped around his beer bottle as he told you probably the coolest story you’d ever heard.

Sitting back in your chair heavily, you let out a huff of air, “Wow…I mean…wow. I guess being a war hero really does come with some perks.”

“I don’t know if I would call myself a war hero…”

“Oh, so he’s modest too. Tell me, is there anything you’re bad at?” you asked, teasingly.

“There’s plenty of things I’m bad at,” scoffed Steve.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, name some. What is the great Captain America bad at?” You lifted an eyebrow in challenge, unable to keep the smile from your face as you looked at the man in front of you.

“Well, for one thing, I can’t flirt with a pretty dame without help from my friend—”

“I think you’re doing a pretty good job of it yourself right now,” you interrupted, giving him a wry grin from across the small bar table.

Cheeks tinging a light shade of pink, Steve took a moment to drink from the bottle in his hand before continuing, “I can’t dance. Seriously, all I do is sway. I have trouble tying a tie. It always comes out crooked, no matter how many times I do it. Oh! And I’m a horrible singer. Couldn’t carry a tune to save my life – unlike some people.”

It was your turn to feel the heat form on your face, “I’m sure you’re not that bad.”

“Well, I’d show you, but I doubt anyone else here would appreciate it,” said Steve. At his comment the two of your looked around the bar to realize there wasn’t anyone else there to bother with his singing.

“What?” you asked incredulously. “What time is it?”

Checking his watch, Steve’s eyebrows lifted almost all the way to his hairline, “Three in the morning. Doesn’t this place close at two?”

“Yea, it does. I can’t believe Roxy didn’t kick us out.” Pulling out your phone you found a text from the woman in question.

Roxy:

You seemed a little too patriotic to interrupt. Have fun and lock the door on your way out. ;)

“I guess we should probably get out of here, huh?” you suggested, standing and grabbing your purse from the back of the chair. Steve stood too, taking his bottle and your glass to the bar and disposing of them appropriately. Walking across the stage, you went to turn out the lights on the far wall when you stopped. Looking at the piano in front of you, you turned back to Steve.

“While we’re here, do you want a free concert?”

“Depends…what are you playing?” asked Steve, rounding the bar and coming to sit on the bench next to you.

“Anything you want. I’m open for requests,” you announced, brushing your fingers across the keys and playing out a small arpeggio.  

“How about one of yours?” Steve suggested, surprising you.

“Really? Out of all the music in the world, you wanna’ listen to mine?”

“Of course, it’s my favorite. Haven’t missed a show all month.”

***

Too early. It was absolutely too early for your phone to be ringing. But there it was, laying on the mattress next to you annoyingly loud. You contemplated throwing it across the expanse of your small loft, but ultimately decided that you were in no way financially able to afford a new phone. So instead, you swiped your thumb across the screen and held it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Steve’s chipper voice rang through the line, bringing you out of your sleepy stupor.

“Steve, hey, what’s up?” you asked, trying not to sound like you just woke up. Unfortunately, you were unable to suppress the yawn that escaped the back of your throat.

“Oh jeez, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You could already hear the apology on the tip of his tongue.

“No, no. I’m always up at this time. It’s—” you looked over to the clock on the wall “—Five thirty. Five thirty?!”

“Sorry. I’ve been up for hours. I guess I didn’t realize it was still so early,” Steve apologized. You could hear the distant bustle of city life behind him; why was everyone in D.C. such early risers?

Sighing internally, you concluded it was probably better you get up now. You were due at your day job soon anyway. Sitting up and swinging your legs out of the warm cocoon of blankets, you stretched out, bringing life to your body, “It’s fine. Really. You get to hear me make coffee though. I desperately need coffee.”

The soft, nervous laugh on the other end of the phone made you smile as you padded barefoot to your small kitchen. “I will gladly listen to you make coffee, if it makes up for the fact that I woke you up,” said Steve, his words causing butterflies to form in the pit of your stomach. You had to stop for a moment, hand paused on your kettle as you tried to keep your head. When you failed to respond right away, Steve went on, “Anyway, I just called to tell you, that I had a really great time the other night.”

“Me too,” you replied, placing the kettle on the stove and turning it on, before grabbing the coffee from the cupboard.

“I was wondering if you wanted to do it again. Preferably sometime soon?”

“I don’t think the manager will let us stay so late after closing again. Even if I do technically work there,” you teased, grabbing the French press and filling it with a few spoonfuls of coffee.

“I don’t know, I bet you could convince them to let us stay. You seem like you’d be able to talk any man into doing just about anything,” Steve teased back.

“Really, is that so?”

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe not any man – maybe just me.”

***

It was a nice, sunny spring day. Summer was just around the corner and midafternoons were beginning to warm up considerably. You were on your lunch break, iced lemonade in hand as you walked through President’s Park with Steve. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear in response to the light breeze, you glanced down to make sure that the skirt of your sundress was still in place. The last thing you needed to do was accidentally flash him on your first official date.

“Obviously performing at the bar isn’t your only job if this is your lunch break. Tell me about your day job,” said Steve, walking idly next to you, hands in the pockets of his khakis.

“I’m actually a music teacher,” you answered, taking a sip of your lemonade.

“Really?” asked Steve, a hint of pleasant surprise in his voice.  

“Yea, I guess you could say music pervades every part of my life,” you answer with a laugh.

“Do you like it?”

“I really do. Enough to do it for the rest of my life at least. I mean – performing is fun, but I don’t know if I could do it for a living. I’m much happier teaching kids how to read music or play an instrument.” The two of you came to a small park bench and sat down under the shade of a large tree.

“So, no dreams of being big and famous?”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “No. Absolutely not. I don’t think I could handle the pressure.”

“Yea, it definitely isn’t easy,” Steve sighed, looking down at the ground between his spread legs. At his comment, you realized how insensitive you must have sounded. For a second you had completely forgotten than he was Captain America – a famous household name. To you, he was just Steve Rogers, the man with a warm smile and a genuine aura that emanated throughout and around him.

“I think it was my music teacher in high school that really made me want to be a teacher,” you said, changing the subject. “She was always encouraging me to pursue my music and creativity. Which was great to hear when no one else in my life seemed to care much at the time. Who was your favorite teacher growing up?”

Steve seemed to perk up at your question, looking out into the expanse of the park as he pondered his answer, “Probably my art teacher. I always liked to doodle and draw, but he was the first person to tell me I had talent. After that, I actually took a few classes at the local college. Nothing too fancy, but I learned a lot about techniques and different mediums.”

“So, you’re an artist?”

“Well, I don’t know if I would call myself an artist…”

“There you go again being modest. Tell me, do you make art? Do you put pencil to paper or paint to canvas and makesomething with it?” you asked in a guiding manner.

“Yea, I guess—”

“Then you’re an artist! I bet you have a pencil and sketch pad on you right now. Am I wrong?”

Steve looked at you in bewilderment, before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small notebook, “How did you know?”

“Because, you’re an artist! And, I may have seen the outline of it earlier when we were walking,” you admitted.

“Were you checking out my ass?”

The question caught you off guard, leaving you gawking at the surprisingly forward question. Steve laughed at you, indicating that he was obviously teasing, and you slapped him playfully on the arm.

“Maybe I was. It’s a nice ass,” you teased back. “Now show me some of your drawings. You’ve seen all of my creative genius; I want to see yours.”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t I draw something now and you can be the judge of whether it’s accurate or not?”

“Okay—” you looked around, trying to determine what would be the best thing for him to sketch “—that’s even better. How about that flower bed over there?”

“Nah, I think I see something much prettier,” responded Steve. Looking back at him, you found him already sketching away, pencil to the paper of his notebook as he glanced between it and you. He was drawing you. “No, no. Look back over that way,” he instructed. “The light was catching you perfectly.”

You did as he said, directing your gaze back towards the flower bed, the soft sound of pencil scratches mixing with the chirping of birds, and murmur of people walking by. Stealing glances at him out of the corner of your eye, you watched as he worked. Brow knitted in concentration, jaw relaxed, and soft pink lips parted, long, straight lashes brushing his cheekbones every time he blinked; it was in that moment you came to realization that you could watch him like this forever.

“Hey, no peaking,” he pouted, catching you staring when he looked back up at you for reference. You looked away, training your eye on a couple of squirrels chasing each other across the lawn. Perfectly content, you sat listening to him work until his voice broke the silence.

“Okay, all done.”

Turning back towards him, you scooted down the bench till you were hip to hip, peering into his lap to view his hard work. The sight took your breath away, a soft gasp moving past your lips as you stared at yourself in graceful strokes of graphite. He was right. The lighting had been perfect. Somehow, he managed to capture the rays of sun catching the side of your face, illuminating you like you glowed from the inside out. You held a small smile at the corner of your mouth and your eyes held a wistful romance to them as little tendrils of hair danced around your face. He even sketched some of your sundress – scribbling the lace and little pattern of peaches at the neckline. You were beautiful. He had made you beautiful.

Speechless, you stared at the sketch and then back up at Steve who looked down at you with an apprehensive expression. You beamed at him before gushing, “It’s amazing Steve. Thank you.”

Maybe it was a bit too soon. Maybe you should have waited till the third date, or even the second, but something just felt so right in that moment. Lifting up, you pressed your lips to his, the soft warmth of his mouth comfortable and exciting all at the same time. Brushing your lips against his softly, your heart fluttered when he did the same, kissing you back tentatively. When his large hand came to cup your face, you melted into him craving the feel of his firm hand against your soft skin. Surprisingly gentle for his size, but not for his demeanor, he kissed you like you were a flower and he a gentle breeze, caressing your petals with a tender confidence.

Pulling away, you found a softness in his eyes and in his smile that made your heart clench. It felt so strange to be already so enamored by a person you had just met. But you couldn’t help the lightness that coursed through your body when it came to him.

***

“You know, you really don’t have to keep coming to all of my gigs. You’ve already got the girl,” you half-joked to Steve as he swung your guitar over his shoulder and lifted your heavy amp with ease. Two months. That’s how long you’d been sharing early morning phone calls and lunch-time walks through the city. Peppering in the occasional dinner date, Saturday matinees at the theatre, and him attending every single one of your gigs, things were really beginning to click. However, you couldn’t help but shake the familiar monster of apprehension and doubt.

You knew perfectly well where your feelings stood with Steve, but did he feel the same way?

You’d been hurt in the past. Partners that left you guessing and clawing for any type of validation and affirmation that you were important to them. Countless hours spent worrying and wishing that they’d just show up like they said they would, and without complaint or snide remarks. Therefore, when Steve actually showed up, it felt obligatory – like he was doing everything right not because he wanted to, but because he felt like he had to.

“Do you not want me to come?” Steve asked as the two of you left the bar and headed down the street to your building.

“No—yes—I mean, of course I want you to be there. I just mean, it can’t be very fun for you to be in a smoky bar listening to me play the same ten songs over and over again. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there when you don’t want to be.” You couldn’t believe how stupid and insecure you sounded as you said the words, but at the same time you needed to say it. At the very least it would be an out for him to take, no matter how sad it made you seem.

“Hey.” Steve stopped you, grabbing you by the wrist and turning you towards him. “I’d listen to you play a rendition of Pop Goes the Weasel over and over again for the rest of my life, if that’s what you were passionate about. I love your music and I love listening to you play it. You’re my girl. I’m gonna’ be there to support my girl.”

Moving your hand, you intertwined your fingers with his. Unable to find the words to express to him how much his proclamation had meant to you, you simply nodded as tears of relief and happiness began to well in your eyes. Silently, he disentangled his hand from yours and reached up, thread his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck. He pulled you into him, bending down to kiss you sweetly, but firmly. His kiss was a promise and a reassurance that he was there, and he wasn’t going anywhere. The flutter of your eyelashes as they closed pushed a single tear down the side of your cheek, the warm wetness of it rolling until it reached the line of your jaw. Steve pulled away from you, using his thumb to wipe the stray tear from your face.

“Stay the night with me tonight?” you asked, the words leaving you like a physical need.

Steve’s eyes widened in response, before searching your face for any sign that you didn’t mean what you said. But you did.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

The room was lit by only moonlight as you slowly undressed. Each article of clothing removed, revealing more of your body and more of your soul to the man in front of you. Reverently he sat at the edge of your bed, shirt and shoes already removed, as he watched you bare yourself to him. Once completely free of your clothes, you were overtaken by a wave of insecurity, wanting nothing more than to cover yourself, but the sound of Steve’s voice broke you of the urge.

“Come here,” he whispered, eyes shining in the darkness.

Tentatively you stepped towards him, toes digging into the plush rug sat under your bed. He guided you onto his lap, his hands ghosting over the skin at your sides as he took you in. Steve looked at you the way he looked at you the first night you spoke – like a man seeing a beautiful piece of artwork for the first time. The heat of his gaze made you both unbearably aroused and unbearably uncomfortable. Wrapping your arms around his neck you kissed him, a mesh of lips and tongues that left you breathless and wanting. Moving your hands down his chest, you felt the unyielding muscle under warm skin. Like a Greek god, sculpted by the greatest minds of the renaissance, he was gorgeous. The feeling of his mouth connecting with one of your nipples stole the breath from your lungs, making you keen with desire as you arched into him.

He continued to lavish your chest, switching between breasts as he kissed, licked, sucked, and nipped. Within no time, you were putty in his hands, a garbled mess of pleasure and want. When you thought you couldn’t take any more, he flipped you over, placing you gently onto the mattress and pulling away to remove the last of his clothing. Standing in front of you, stripped and vulnerable, you had the lucid thought that you had never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

Climbing over you, he kissed his way up your body, leaving little bites and marks from your hip bone to your neck. You felt the hot, weight of him at your center, causing your hips to buck in response. A small whimper escaped you as he slid his length up and down your folds, grinding into you as bit down on your lower lip. Hot and wet and hard, he eased into you slowly, watching your face as he did. Eyes endlessly light blue, he stared into your soul as he panted heavily at the tight feel of you around him. Impossibly full of him and only him, you took deep breaths as you adjusted to it. Pulling your arms from around his back, he pinned your hands to the pillows behind your head, threading his fingers with yours as he pulled out of you slowly and pushed back in. The sweet friction was enough to make you sing.

Steadily, his pace picked up speed as he rocked in and out of you. And while neither of you had said the words, he made love to you like they had been uttered a thousand times before. Your sweat-slicked bodies glided over each other as he fucked into with a devotion unlike any other. And you did the same, your hands and lips amorously worshipping his body as he brought you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Fingers plucking and hands strumming, it was as if the two of you were making music of your own, playing each other like instruments in the moon-soaked bedroom. The sweet sound built and built, an orchestration of harmonious balance rising higher and higher until you both reached the peak of your crescendo, only to fall blissfully from it in a lilting melody.

Laying in the aftermath of your song, you couldn’t help but think the words: I love this man.

***

“You really should eat something,” you said once again, pointing to the tray of untouched room service breakfast.

“I told you. I’m not hungry,” Steve snapped, moving in front of the mirror to tie his tie.

You sighed quietly to yourself. It had been a hard week. For both of you. This was not the first time Steve had been short with you today and you expected it would not be the last. Then of course, you couldn’t blame him. You were going to a funeral after all. Grabbing your cup of coffee from the tray, you wordlessly excused yourself to the bathroom to finish your makeup. Once in the crippling silence of the surrounding white tile, you braced yourself against the bathroom counter and took deep, calming breaths. You could do this. You had to be able to do this. For you. For your relationship. But most importantly, for Steve.

And you were trying, really you were, but nothing had prepared you for this. Although, you doubted anything really could. Supporting your boyfriend through the death of a past love was not an everyday scenario. He was trying to keep it together; you knew he was. You could see the sadness in his eyes and on his face when he thought you weren’t looking. But you were always looking. It was not easy watching him mourn the loss of another woman. It brought up all the ugly insecurities you tried to mask and move past. In no way did you blame him either. Peggy was an important part of his life – a part that you would never fully understand – and he had loved her. You respected that, but it didn’t stop the evil thoughts that crept into your mind. The ones that whispered things like he would never love you like he loved her, that this loss would make him realize that you were nothing but second best, that he would realize that you weren’t good enough. Shaking the nagging voices away, you unzipped your makeup bag and began pulling out the items you needed.

Steve cared for you; if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have asked you to be here with him. He wouldn’t have flown you all the way to London with him for this funeral. He wouldn’t be depending on you for support and companionship. All of this you knew, but every jab and harsh word left you feeling more and more doubt. Of course, this was not Steve’s fault. He was grieving and if that meant you had to be strong for the both of you, then so be it. You would put your hurt aside and put on a brave face so that Steve could be the weak one. He deserved, at the very least, that.

Brushing on a bit of mascara and pulling out a sensible lip color, the sound of a light knock brought your attention to the exit of the bathroom. Steve, in black suit and tie, stood in the doorway, hair neatly jelled and tie crooked. He pointed to the askew item of clothing in utter defeat, a hopeless expression on his face. You set your lipstick down and crossed the room to him, reaching for his tie and undoing it before going through the familiar routine.

“I’m sorry.”

Too engrossed with the movement of your hands, you didn’t look up when you answered, keeping your voice light and casual, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” You finished the knot, straightening it snuggly against his Adams Apple and giving the length of the tie a little pat. He caught your hands before you could bring them down to your sides, holding them in his own and bringing them up to lightly kiss your fingers.

“Thank you for being here with me. I don’t think I could have done this without you.” His words were honest and sincere and meant the world to you. The fact that even when he was falling apart at the seams, he still cared enough to keep your emotions in mind, held more weight than any cynical thought your brain could create.

Standing on tiptoes, you held his face in your hands and looked into the depths of his blue eyes, “Today is going to absolutely suck. It really is. And I’m so sorry that it has to happen. But I’m right here. Anything you need, I’m right here. I promise.”

Steve nodded, his eyes becoming misty and red. Silently, the two of you exited the bathroom and grabbed your things. You, a coat and purse; him, a coat and a slice of toast.

You were just out the door, Steve following behind when you felt the soft brush of his fingers as he tucked in the tag of your blouse. The act though small and seemingly insignificant, was like a whispered proclamation on your skin. A murmured promise of I love you.

***

A year and a half and blissfully content, you lounged in your bed, staring at the expanse of Steve’s naked back as he stood in front of the kitchen sink. Muscles rolling and flexing, he scrubbed at the dishes from dinner.

“How is it, that I always end up doing all the cooking and cleaning when this is your apartment?” Steve asked teasingly over his shoulder as you stretched out in satisfaction across the bed, sheets still wrinkled and twisted from your after dinner ‘dessert’.

You laughed, rolling over and smiling lazily in his direction, “Because you’re a much better cook and you love me.”

Steve chuckled, a short, barking sound you had come to know as sarcastic, “I don’t know what me loving you has to do with getting stuck doing the dishes every night.”

“Shall I play you a song to make the job easier?” you asked, reaching over the foot of the bed and pulling up your guitar from its careless place on the ground. You pushed yourself into a sitting position against the headboard and began to strum a series of chords.

“Mmmm, I guess that’s a fair payment,” Steve responded warmly.

“I knew you’d say that!” you exclaimed happily, starting into one of Steve’s personal favorites.

A half hour later, dishes done, and Steve now laid on the bed with his head propped up on your outstretched legs, you were still playing. Languidly, you plucked and strummed through all the songs you knew until you found yourself playing something you hadn’t planned on showing him yet. He picked up immediately on the unfamiliar progression, turning his head to look at you.

“I haven’t heard that one before, what is it?” he asked, running his fingertips tenderly up and down your bare calf.

“Just something new I’ve been working on,” you answered sheepishly, continuing to repeat the first few chords.

“Something new? What’s it about?”

“You.”

Your profession took him by surprise, a delighted smile spreading across his face as he looked up at you, “You wrote a song about me?”

“Maybe,” you answered, nudging his far shoulder with your toes.

“Is it a sad song?” he asked playfully as he turned his head to stare up at the ceiling.

“No, it’s not a sad song.”

“Oh no, is it an angry song?”

You giggled, “Definitely not.”

“A happy song?” he questioned once more, knowing full well that that was the answer all along.

“Yes. It’s a happy song. A very happy song,” you stated, looking down at him and wondering how in the world you got so lucky. “The happiest song, actually.”

“Well then, play away.”

And you did. You played, pouring every ounce of love and adoration into the melody and lyrics, as Steve listened quietly, looking at you like the world began and ended with that one song. You played knowing that you had never been happier than in that moment, and you played knowing that life could only get better from there on out.

To listen to the song written for Steve, please follow this link: https://soundcloud.com/user-144129307/steves-song

Marvel Taglist: 

@caffiend-queen 

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

@grincheveryday

[rauzadian]

5 works tag game

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and post or link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I was tagged by @pers-books and  @fortytworedvines! Thank you both!

I’ve only started posting in January of this year so all my fics could technically, potentially be in this list. But, I’ll try to be nice and give you the 5 works you asked for (which shouldn’t be problem since I only have 12 fics in total).

Also, for those who aren’t aware, all the fics I posted are about Berena.

1. You’re not the first (but you’ll be the last)

This one, obviously has to be my all time fave. The perfect example of the fic that has a life of its own. You start writing thinking “this is a nice idea for a cute little fic’ and then ... the words write themselves and they don’t stop, 1K, 10K, 30K ... And you can’t believe it, you didn’t even know you could write such a long story. But I’m immensely glad I did, because the exploration of one’s sexual orientation is something very important to me and putting it into words felt almost cathartic.

2. The Wednesday Muse

This one I wrote in one go, something that rarely happens, especially these days. But I was so enthralled by the idea of a confident Serena having no qualms and even feeling invigorated by the idea of posing naked for an art class. A Serena confident about her body, herself and once more, her sexuality who has not trouble going after what she wants and isn’t like the Serena we know, dependant of other people’s affection and attention to feel important or even vaguely useful.

3. Or even better, for eternity

This one I love because ... I managed to find the confidence (largely boosted by our very own @batnbreakfast) to write a sex scene, as tame (?) as it might be compared to what others have written (Bat included, I can’t look at a piano without thinking about your fic now XD), but it was a victory for me. I also like it for the fact that actually get to talk about what they feel and what needs work in their relationship.

4. Absolutely, friend

I like this one because I get to explore different aspects of their relationship, different versions of them and sometimes even of scenes that we saw in the show. I do plan on writing more of those but I don’t know how.

5. Plus size, my arse

This one I Like because it’s my first one. Simple. And because I got some sexy Berena with a healthy helping of Bernie boosting Serena’s confidence.

I’m pretty sure everybody’s already been tagged at this point. ^^

[alittleoptimistic]

Psychic For Hire

A Buzzfeed Unsolved Fan fic

Summary: Shane is a psychic for hire working in LA, and sure, he’s a fake, but at least he's telling people what they need to hear! That is, he thought he was fake. But after a strange accident, he begins to have the oddest dreams... Meanwhile his old friend Ryan is researching his next greatest supernatural horror novel in the underbelly of the LA psychic scene and wondering how on earth you convince someone they actually might be psychic for real?

Trigger warning: violence, car accidents, dead people

___________

Chapter One

The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. Her hair hung in thick, dry tufts on her white blouse, unnaturally red. She was a forty-five-year-old divorcee who wore several rings. Her ear piercings were stretched out like taffy, weighed down by gaudy diamond-shaped earrings. Her voice trembled. “ Jayson ? That’s my- that’s my son! How could you-”

He screwed his eyes shut. “-he wants to tell you he’s... alright. He’s not in any pain. And-and to not worry about…” He opened his eyes and peered at her quizzically. “The game?”

Ms. Snyder wiped her eyes, and he handed her a tissue that was conveniently on hand. She dabbed away, careful to keep from smearing her eyeliner. “I-I missed his last baseball game. And then when he didn’t come home, gosh... what kind of mother doesn’t go to their kids' baseball game...”

“Hey.” He caught her shaking hands and laid them in her lap as gently as he could. Her skin was soft and manicured, the lines in her palms deep. “He forgives you. Do you hear me? He loves you and he knows how much you love him.”

Her lip trembled. A watery sort of smile attempted to find room amid the trembling, and she gave a little embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d get so emotional.”

“It’s alright. Of course, you would. He’s your son.”

She nodded once, and again. A deep breath. “Thank you, Mr. Madej. I needed to hear that.”

Shane patted her hand and closed up the notebook he’d had out. It was covered in nonsense scribbles from a small pencil he held in his hand. “Ah,” He waved his hand, “Call me Shane.”

Ms. Snyder sniffed and smiled. “Well, thank you, Shane. That was… astonishing. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure- I just needed something. Some-”

“Closure?” he offered.

She nodded. “How much do I owe you?”

Shane smiled and took out his cellphone, credit card slider already embedded in the charging port. He named his price and she swiped her card.

As she stood up, straightening her clothes, she took another steadying breath. And then quietly, almost to herself. “Goodness…”

Shane stood and led her to the office door.

He conducted sessions in a small portion of his house closed off by glass doors and windows. He called it his office. It was painted in calming shades of white and brown. Very ‘live, laugh, love’. It might have been used as a parlor or a piano room if anyone else had lived there. There was an abstract painting against the back wall that resembled a beach, and fake reeds sprouted from a tall skinny vase in the corner. There was a coffee table between two armchairs and a couch. It could either have been a nice waiting room or a therapist’s office if not for the red neon sign through the blinds in the street facing window. PSYCHIC

Shane opened the glass door and walked her to the front door of his home. “It was wonderful to meet you, Ms. Snyder. If you ever need anything else, you call me?” He pointed at his business card in her hand.

Ms. Snyder nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“And,” He lowered his voice, although of course there was no one else to hear. “Be careful. I know you live a bit of a distance. If you do ever decide to visit another, ah, advisor, I would highly recommend keeping to the list of recommendations I have on my website. They are good people. But there are a lot of not-so-nice people in LA.”

Ms. Snyer blinked at him, almost surprised, and she relaxed even further. There. If there had been any reservation left, she had abandoned it. She trusted him. He had her. “Oh, I’m aware. Thank you. I appreciate the honesty. Your… your gift is incredible.”

Shane smiled, lips tucked in. “It is what it is. And you are very welcome. Now have a-”

There was a knock on the door, just as Shane reached to open it for Ms. Snyder.

He paused, confused. He didn’t have any more appointments today.

Ms. Snyder made a small noise. “Oh dear, I don’t mean to keep you.”

“I don’t think it’s another client,” Shane said, brow furrowed. “Could be an old friend of mine, but he’s not due to get here until tonight.” Shrugging, he opened the door.

Shane was correct. It was Ryan.

Standing on the bottom step, tapping on his phone, stood a young man Shane remembered well, although he had not seen him since, what, graduation? He was older, of course, than Shane remembered. More of substantial weight to him (not that Shane was saying he was fat, cause he wasn’t. Ryan just looked… grown-up. Solid. A man now, not the gangly kid he used to be). But Ryan stood in the same, slightly nervous way, bouncing on his heels.

Ryan looked up. “Shane! God, are you taller ?”

Wonderful. “Nice to see you too. Ryan, this is Ms. Snyder. Ms. Snyder, Ryan. We were roommates in college. Ms. Snyder is a client of mine.”

Ms. Snyder cocked her head, clearly interested, and shook Ryan’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you! What brings you to town?”

Ryan opened his mouth. “Actually, I’m writing a-”

That was far enough. “Here, Ryan, why don’t you come inside? Ms. Snyder, until next time?”

“Oh, yes!” She shouldered her purse. “Most definitely. I’ll leave you two to catch up!” With that, she clickety-clacked in her heels to an inordinately fancy car and drove away down the street of the average, nice, modern neighborhood Shane lived in.

Ryan, joining him on the porch, watched her go. They squinted out into the bright California sun.

There was a beat of silence which Shane didn’t try to break, hands in his pockets.

“Dang.” Ryan finally spoke. “Got her wrapped around your finger. What’d you do, tell her she’s gonna win the lottery?”

Shane hummed. “I told her her son forgives her for staying home with a hangover instead of going to his baseball game the day that he died in a car accident.” He picked at the stitching in the neckline of his sweater.

Ryan blinked. “Holy frick, dude.”

“In nicer words, obviously.” He looked down at him. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get here until tonight.”

“Sorry. I’m a fast driver and then I didn’t see the point in hanging out in an empty hotel for hours.”

Another non-committal hum. And then Shane shrugged. “Okay. Cool. Do you want lunch? I haven't eaten yet and there’s a Cuca’s nearby that is frankly divine.”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah! Sure.”

It was odd, how very natural it felt to talk to him. It was like it was just last week they’d been sitting on the floor grumbling through papers they should have written days earlier. And yet here was this distance, years of time spent only occasionally interacting through Facebook likes and Instagram comments.

“Let me grab my wallet.” Shane ducked back in the house, and Ryan trailed in after him. He busied himself searching for his wallet in the kitchen drawers, and pretended he didn’t notice Ryan blatantly snooping, eyes wide.

He popped his head into the kitchen, Shane’s ‘office’, the bathroom, the living room. It was only when he started to knock over one of the fake plants that Shane gave him a look, wallet, and keys in hand.

Ryan stood the plant back up. “Sorry. Just, this is… a really nice house.”

Shane gave him a closed smile. “Thank you.”

“No, but like, really nice. Like, how the heck do you afford this?” Most people might be embarrassed to ask a question like that. Ryan wasn’t and Shane wasn’t offended.

He got this question a lot actually. There was an idea people had in their minds of what a psychic was supposed to be. Creepy little offices in a run-down track mall next to a nail salon that doubled in sex trafficking, or a creepy booth at a carnival with crystals and incense and blah, blah, blah. Shane’s business wasn’t like that. He was clean and shaved and dressed in a brown sweater and he let his clients drink from his Starbucks espresso machine while he told them what they needed to hear. The less he was associated with thieves and liars, the better.

He shrugged. They walked outside, down the steps, and simultaneously got into Shane’s car. “You get in with the right people, the right customers, being a psychic brings in the big bucks. Besides, LA is superstitious as hell.” Shockingly so, Shane thought sometimes. It blew his mind how many hundreds and hundreds of dollars people were willing to give up to hear him spout off some nonsense.

And that’s what it was, of course.

They sat in a red leather booth at the restaurant and the plastic fabric protested loudly as they slid inside. It was past the lunch rush and the place was relatively empty, decorated with colorful paintings of wild animals, sculls, Christmas lights, the distant sound of Spanish radio, banging pots, and the rapid-fire speech of an employee in the kitchen. The food would be delicious, as it always was.

Usually, Shane could hardly wait.

But there was a pit in his stomach, a deep sort of twist that kept him stiff and ready to stand. Was he nervous? Was that what it was? But Ryan didn’t make him nervous. In fact, Ryan only increased exponentially Shane’s ability to be the calm one in comparison to Ryan.

Ryan dipped a chip in salsa and raised an eyebrow.

“So it is then? Just-, just you know, fake.”

Shane looked at him for a long moment, contemplating whether or not he was actually posing a serious question. “I mean, yeah. What else- you seriously think I can talk to dead people? I see the future? I look into the oogly-googly beyond and-”

“Well, fine, not you specifically!”

Shane chuckled. “It's fake, Ryan. I've seen it all. It's all fake.”

Ryan thought about this. He didn’t seem particularly enthused, which Shane would have expected. But Shane wasn’t going to lie to him. There wasn’t any reason to sugar coat it.

Ryan’s voice was quiet. “Last time I talked to you, you wanted to be a magician.”

“Last time we talked I was a dumbass. You can’t make money in LA as a magician. Well, you can. I just didn’t.”

Ryan stirred a chip, ate it, and chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his lip. “So that’s it then? You’re a con-man.”

Shane sat back. He didn’t invite Ryan to stay with him just to be judged. “Says the ‘true paranormal sightings’ author!”

“First of all, I write fiction based on fact, which is not conning."Ryan wrinkled his nose. "It’s just entertainment and research. You are actively lying to people.”

That hurt. A lot. He didn’t need this and on top of that, Shane honestly disagreed. Yes, he was lying to them constantly, but Shane didn’t hurt them! He was telling people what they needed to hear! He gave them closure when there was no other place to turn. And yeah, so the psychic part was rubbish, but it worked! It worked for his clients, and it gave him enough money to own a nice home and a car and gave him the option to eat out twice a week if he felt like it. “It’s better they come to me than to some tiny hovel where some witch will tell them they have to live on butter if they want to survive through the next year. Or worse, make them come back for a reading over and over until they're bankrupt just because they’re grieving and hardly in their right mind.”

Ryan paused at this. “People really do that?”

“Yeah! Happens all the time. And stuff like the stupid butter thing! Made local news. ‘Lady Eats Nothing But Butter to Avoid Death’. She didn’t die but she got super sick.”

Their food came and they took it mutely, neither looking at each other in the eye. Maybe things weren’t quite like how they used to be. Or maybe they were always this way when it came to this subject; a little tense, ever since Ryan told him he honest to god believed in ghosts, all the way back in sophomore year of university. Shane had reacted… less than ideally, he’d admit. It wasn’t his place to judge people, and he was far better at that now than he was at eighteen, but he just couldn't compute how otherwise perfectly sane people could believe in such ridiculous things. Unless they’d been tricked, of course. And he’d rather it be a nice trick, if it came to that, than an evil one.

Shane sighed. “Look, I don’t want to argue about this. You emailed me , remember? I’ll let you see what it's like to be a ‘real life psychic’ or whatever. But I’m not going to play pretend with you. You’re not a client and you can do whatever you want to make yourself happy, but this is just how the world works.”

The knot in Shane’s stomach wound tighter, and he couldn’t imagine eating. He wasn’t hungry anymore. There was something in the air that pulled at his skin, tugging him, making his entire body feel tight and fragile and horrible. His stomach felt sick all of the sudden, and he set his fork down with a rattle of metal on porcelain.

He must have eaten something weird.

“You alright, big guy?”

He hummed. His head buzzed. He took a sip of water. “Yes. Sorry. I started feeling sick for a second there. It’s a little better now.”

Ryan’s face relaxed from indignance into concern. “Shit, dude. Did you ea s.”

Ryan was not put out by the shortcut meal. Shane paid for them both quickly, before Ryan could object, and they took their to-go boxes into the car, setting them on the sun-warmed dashboard. The feeling didn’t go away, even as they eased onto the main road and took a left toward Shane’s house.

“I’ll drive,” Ryan offered. He kept side eyeing Shane. “You look really pale. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Shane didn’t answer, too busy trying to not throw up. This was the worst timing. “I’m fine! It’s fine. Just drive!”

“If we need to pull over-”

“Look at the road, Ryan!” Shane’s stomach lurched again. He rolled down the window frantically as the buzzing in his head became so loud he could hear nothing else.

Then it happened.

He remembered it later in bits and pieces, everything in slow motion. Ryan, mouth open, a hand stretched toward him, looking at Shane, and more importantly, not looking at the truck that barreled toward them. The tacos flew in the air, cheese, and lettuce like dust in a light beam. Shane saw it all in his side mirror, his head out the window. He wasn’t fast enough to pull back inside.

With shocking strength, the truck plowed into the front of the car. Something burned down Shane's legs and then he was flying. There was the sky, the ground, the sky.

The ground.

He woke up to the sound of an ambulance and the smell of vomit. Above him, sunlight trickled through layers of green leaves.

His brain felt like it was stuffed with sand. He struggled to move and found he could, but a hand pushed his shoulder into the ground. Ryan, above him. He was bleeding from a nick on the shoulder, but otherwise looked alright. He was shaking, eyes wide and red. This was gonna traumatize him forever, poor thing. Ryan was so sensitive when it came to danger. He didn’t mesh well with it...

“Can you hear me? Shane? Jeez, Shane, you’re bleeding-”

“S’okay.” Shane managed. He didn’t feel like anything was broken. He tried to wiggle his fingers and toes. They wiggled just fine. He blinked a few times. His whole body hurt. How did he get out of the car? Something in his brain wasn’t lining up, and he couldn’t quite figure out the missing piece that brought him onto the sidewalk in this idyllic, old neighborhood. The light was too bright, the colors too loud. The siren wailed. Shane tried to sit up again. It wasn’t that bad. He was okay. “Why’d you call an ambulance?”

Ryan made some reply in a high pitched shriek that Shane couldn’t understand. There was the siren again. People stood around him now, telling him to stay still, to not move. Why were they being so uptight? He didn’t even feel that awful. They didn’t need to make a whole dumb fuss. Shane remembered glimpses of the ambulance and the people poking and prodding him.

He was tired. He should sleep. Shane closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the sound was gone.

The world was tangibly silent, unlike anything Shane had ever experienced. It felt like noise had never existed in the first place, like he was in space, free-floating in the nothingness of eternity. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his throat. He sat up. Moving through the air felt like moving through thick, thick water. His arms trembled to keep him upright. The ambulance either moved so quietly and smoothly he didn’t notice it, or they’d stopped. Everything was slippery to the eye. He couldn’t see enough at once.

The light was a dull, fluorescent sort of blue, even though he remembered the sunlight from outside ought to shine inside. He should be frightened also, but Shane wasn’t. A dead calm lay over him like a thick blanket. Even if he wanted to, Shane didn’t think he could summon any kind of reaction. Moving was hard enough, and it was like whatever was pressing in on him, pressed inside him as well.

It took longer than it ought to have to notice the people lining the walls of the ambulance. A pregnant woman. A young boy. A very old man. There were several more unfamiliar people around the room, seemingly random paraphernalia, all staring at him stanchly. Something was very wrong about them, and Shane didn’t know what it was. He tried to open his mouth and break the god-awful silence, but when he spoke, there were no words. This didn’t surprise him, to be honest. The pressure only increased, begging him to lie flat once more.

After a long moment, Shane gave in and his arms buckled. He slammed into the pallet he’d been placed in. The pressure surged, pressing him deeper and deeper into the plastic. He could feel it stretching under him, his ribs creaking. It was going to push him right through the pallet, Shane realized. He screamed silently, terror rushing back to him as the pressure finally forced him into the pallet. He watched the plastic melt around his arms, his body, his neck, his face. He couldn’t see.

Their heads were on backward.

_______________________________________________________________

next

[peg-legz4]

peggy's klance fic rec :)

this is my first fic rec and i know its really sloppy but one of my friends said she wanted it do I an forced to post it after procrastinating finishing it for a month. enjoy!

Best Friends to Lovers

Hearts Don't Break Around Here - klancekorner

AHHHHH okay okay okay this is the first klance fic i ever read and it set the bar soooo high. basically keith and lance have been bestfriends since foreverrr and it jumps between flashbacks and present day where keith is realizing hes just been In love with lance for like the whole time they've known each other and lance calls him snickers and its s l o w b u r n bc they're both oblivious idiots but theyre also pining and aghhghhh AND THE WAY THEY START TO REALIZE THEIR OWN FEEELINGS IS! IM- it's super cute pls read!!!

with love - allinadayswork - 8,888  AHHHGGGGGGGs high school au! this is so cute they're both so smitten basically they're best friends but lance is also keiths secret admirer and ahhhhh!!!!!! so cute pls read i beg of you + valentines day and overprotective shiro!!!!

 Your Smile Makes Me Awkward - Lancelee (ashleeforreal) - 8,791

another best friends to lovers (hehe) lance gets his braces taken off and keith is in a gay panic because lance looks hot and he doesnt know what to do and theres miscommunication but its all good in the end this was so cute

One Heart Missing - starlightment - 24021 HSWOQSJKNQJNIU BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS AU IM A SUCKER FOR THESEEE they’re in college and keith finds out he loves lance nd then they have a fwb thing going on and ppor keith but also poor lance for reasons i can’t disclose anD THE REOCCURRING THEME WITH THE ICE SKATING ITS SO CUTE AND DEHQIJOjqsk please just read it oh my god 

Soulmate AU

between two points - Alltheroads - 20,589 red string of fate au!!!!!!! keith is one of the few people in the world who can actually see the strings though, and lance seems not to have a string, just like keith. its them falling for eachother and keith teaching him how to repair a motorcycle and 50′s themed diners its amazingggg

Tell Me It’s My Name Written In Your Skin - Ivnars - 15,636 soulmate au where the name of your soulmate appears on your wrist once you fall in love with them (i think?) and lance thinks his is unrequited and of course he also has a martyr complex and is willing to die for the team and almost does and then omgomg i just its so great pls read

Bend It Like Soulmates - Reader115 - 23,998 HHHHHHHHhh SOCCER SOULMAtE AU AND THEYRE SO GOOD TOGETHER AND OMGOMGOMG SO MUCH PINING AND TENSION AND IT SJUST SO HAPPY AND AMAZING  IT HAS THEM BEING THE FAMOUS SOCCER SOULMATE COUPLE PLEASE READ READ READ YOU DONT EVEN HAVE TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SOCCER

there, nestled against his pulse - hiuthyn SHAOAMALAL ITS A SOULMATE AU I LOVE THESE HJDJSJSJSS AND ITS CANONVERSE (im pretty sure this was a one shot first and then I came back and it was a multi chapter fic and I read and it was like 1000× more amazing ajsjska) this was one of the very first klance fics i read and it’s definitely the first one that made me like gasp and scram cause oh my god,. okay basically the first and last words your soulmate says show up on your wrists and keith hides his wrists because he thinks he k words his soulmate and there’s miscommunication aND KEITH’S BACKSTORY AND IT GIVES LANCE SO MUCH DEPTH??????? and it has a really happy ending and its slowburn and angsty and pining and i’m a sucker for all those things which made this amazing!!!!!!!

College AU

i just wanna be (with you) - aknightley - 8,020 COLLEGE ROOMMATES AU LETS GOOOOOOOO there’s a lot of tension and pining and they give eachother gifts all the time i’m sOFT pls pls pls read

reasons why keith is the worst - MellodramaticLawliet - 5517 lance and keith are roommates and to cope with his hate for keith, he starts a list of why he hates keith and it just turns into a journal abt keith and lance is so oblivious and there’s also fencing tournaments which is cool hadjalkj read ittt

You Should Date Me - petalloso ahhhh lance and Keith are both freshman in college and they have little adventures and it's just super cute and fluffy ajskkasna

Canonverse

The Art of Secret Telling - jilliancares - 4,880 so to form another coalition, voltron has to form another coalition and lance has, 1, never kissed anybody and 2, has a crush on keith hehehe

a culmination of things - viscrael ahhh it's super cute and short and basically jumps around in time and they're just in looovee

instincts - godsensei lance n keith are getting their groove on when red mistakes Keith's pleasure for distress and comes crashing through the wall ajsksksmsna

i can’t help but want - aknightley  lance and Keith's lions get stranded on different islands but their comms get through so they're just talking and bonding and falling in love while they get their lions fixed akssjal so cute pls read!!!!

never saw you coming - dimpleforyourthoughts HOLY HELL OG MY FREAKINGNS JUEUSS I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH IVE READ IT LIKE 20 TIMES AND EACH TIME IM BLOWN AWAY BY HOW BEAUTIFULL ITS WRITTEND AKAK its canonverse and goes in depth with my boys and lance has a martyr complex and keitHS BACKSTORY AND LE PETIT PRINCE AND THEY WOULD DIE FOR EACHOTHER AND ALMOST DO AND IT MADE ME CRY AND GINGER THE TABBY CAT PLEASE READ OH MY GOD ITS SLOWBURN AND THEYRE BOTH S O SMITTEN AHHHH

Terminal Velocity - speaks tHE ANGSTTTTT. i'm like, a whore for angst. but basically. voltron gets captured by these alien empaths and this guy feeds off of other people's pain(???) and so he tortures lance and makes keith watch and oh my. this is so good I felt so many emotions pls read.

Keith McClain - orphan_account 🥺🥺 keith sees visions of him and lance in the future on the space whale and its v soft

In English, Please  - orphan_account this is a fic I'll always remember omg so lance flirts with Keith in spanish but pretends they're insults and he thinks Keith wont find out (he does)

how not to be a cat: 101 - jilliancares- 8,113 kEITH KEEPS  accidENTALLY TURNINg INTo A CAT aND THEN ENDS UP CUDDLING WITH LANCE I”M SOFTTT THIS FIC BROKE ME WITH ITS CUTENESS HAHIUSJK 

 moderation - Katranga - 21, 613 HSJHKJAJOIHQQ keith gets bitten by a love bug and sees lance first and then allura gets bitten and sees hunk so he just tries to act how allura acts so it doesnt give away his actual crush on lance hsjksskjs

Public Displays of Affection by hattricks lance n Keith are undercover on a mission and they see guards and they hide by making out ajkaka

the waiting game - they frick frack a lot but basically Keith and lance make eachother wait through a week without sex and only teasing sksjakak

To Bite, Or Not To Bite - jilliancares - 11,433 lance gets bitten by a vampire!!!! and he turns into one!!!! need i say more? and the way it like happens AND THEN THE WAY HIM AND KEITH DECIDE TO OMG IM THIS IS GRESR

feelings on fire i guess i'm a bad liar - melancholymango - 22679 a witch curses lance and now he can’t lie to Keith or anything having to do with Keith and its really funny i cackled sjhkah

The Loverboy Trials - PM_Writes - 20,838 THSIEIHWHIJIHJI I LOVED THIS ONE AHHHHHHH.basicaly the aliens think keith is their god of fertility and stuff so they’re like oh we need to do a ritual thing where people fight for his virginity and voltron is like oh fuck no so then lance has to compete to save keith i can’t get over it it’s- i’m softttt

Sorry, Who Are You? - sjskakaja lance and keith were childhood best friends but keith is bad with faces so when they meet at the garrison lance is really salty and keiths backstoey and the way he find out i'm- its great trust me pls

it might not be that bad - Katranga - 16,416 omg i adore this fic okay so. basically. keith doesnt know the difference between jealously and attraction because of him clinging to the closet in middle school and now hes trying to find out why his and Lance's definitions of jealousy differ and Keith's bad at feelings please readd

Everything Else

read all about it - starlightment AHAKAKAL HIGH SCHOOL AU!!!! i just read this one and it’s great!!!1 Lance is on the newspaper and writes and articles professing his love for Keith, the star quarterback that everyones in love with. it's such a good read and oh my goshh this made me throw my phone and squeal out of freaking excitement i love it so much 🥺 idk how but this made me feel as if i was living out senior year through this fic??? it was just that amazing

it's you that's haunting me - perfchan 

suuuper cute youtuber au where Keith hunts gosts and enlists lance as his cameraman. (includes a haunted mansion ballroom dance scene) and its just great oml oml i love it so so much!!! there’s also like 4 sequels so that makes it even better!!!1

Dirty Laundry - 

this is a staple and if you havent read it you're either new to the fandom or living under a rock but its a fake dating au where keith spends winter break with Lance's family and they bondddd and its great!!!! 

alright i just realized the author took it down so uhhhh

adaigo by shipstiel

lance moves in next to keith and Keith likes to play piano at the ungodly hours of the might where lance is just trying to sleep. this ones so cute!!!!!!

eyes to you wide with wonder - aknightley

an office au where Keith is shiro's secretary and lance always comes up to his desk to annoy him and they mask their affection under playful banter and lance also ends up being Keith's knight in shining armor ajskssnns it's so great!!!!

okay i know that you are not my type (still i fall) - quidhitch

ajoasbak nyma cuffs lance to a bed during a party and then leaves but then the bed turns out to be none other than....Keith's bed!! so they like talk while Lance is only in boxers and cuffed to Keith's bed

you never stood a chance - kagshina

it's a snapchat fic!!!!!!! lance accidentally snaps keith a shirtless pic and then Keith snaps back and it's just 😳😳 the whole time it's great omg

Cold Hearts Looking for Love - swang_is_trying typical enemies to lovers where lance is the son of a rich businessman and visits the orphanage that Keith hangs around to visit Pidge??? but its fricking jam packed with them thirsting over each other sshsksksm (i must warn you, its incomplete)

Of Don Juan And Elvis - shipstiel 

Keith is a starbucks barista and lance always comes in and orders with really weird names ehehe

And Now Presenting: Rielle and the Forbidden Meringue

tsbkakaK this ones so cute keith is a galra guard and hes guarding a garden (ooh alliteration) and climbs a tree and then falls into lance's arms (who's an altean guard) and its really cute sjkssahajaj

how to not keep a diary, or, lance’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad semester - glitterfreezing sjskasla they're sophmores in college and roommates pidge forces lance to keep a diary and he just ends up ranting about keith but he’ oblivious to his won feelings heheh

Lance and the Search For Keith's Boyfriend - haikquu - 9497

lance is jealous bc everyone keeps talking abt keith’s boyfriends but he doesnt know who he is (it’s him)

bus buddies - WhatTheBodyGraspsNot - 8033

lance notices Keith doesnt have a bus buddy on a 3-day-trip to save the bees so he goes and sits with him and it's so cuteeeee

got got got it bad -  kairiolette - 10,377 so keith is bad at feelings so he asks what its like to have a crush on someone and then basically tells lance that he has a crush on him and lance just casually brings it up

Only Fools Rush In (but I Can't Help Falling in Love with You) - Fangirl_on_fire_ - 13,524

OMGOMGOMG LANCE IS A MAFIA .BOSS AND IT STARTS OFF WITH A ONE NIGHT STAND AND THEN THEY AHAAKSJSKSM ITS GREAT PLS READ

The Bitter And The Sweetness - The_Real_Karaage - 66337

its a klance youtuber au!!!!!! I love these!!!!! okay so keith makes like conspiracy theory videos and knife throwing ones and lance does like vlogs or storytimes with pidge and they also do dance and then they meet irl but lance doesn't know keith is the YouTube guy cause he hides his identity and omgomggg also Keith is from Texas so he acts like a stereotypical emo cowboy and as a Texan I find it extremely funny

nobody puts baby in a corner - orphan_account - 3,950

 its like the 23rd century and aliens are on earth and keith is a royal galra and lance goes clubbing and and they meet and dance and wOOHOO 

okay thats all for now but i'm probably gonna make a part 2 cause i have a whole bunch saved to my notes app lmao have fun reading y'all

[likeshipsonthesea]

post- breakup kisses for holsom? (or any other pairing) :)

sooo this is super late and really not what you asked for bc i suck at break-up fics, but here, enjoy this weird kind-of-funny-but-probably-just-written-v-late-at-night-so-i-think-it’s-funny ficlet about a wedding and a break-up and a totally cool organizational interlude…

from this prompt list, i give y’all a holsom post-break up kiss fic.

         “Hey,bud,” Lardo says, not-quite-frowning as she holds out a bottle. “How’s it goingover here?”

         Ransomfrowns back at her, but does take the bottle. He’s been wanting another beer,but not enough to leave his designated corner. “Fine,” he says, in the hopesthat it will make the Look go away, but if anything, Lardo’s eyes hardenfurther and her lips purse with more intensity.

         “Areyou sure you don’t want to go categorize the presents or something?” Sheadjusts the neckline of her strapless dress. “It’d be a big help,” she adds,like she needs to sell organization to Ransom.

         Thething is, though, the selling is not completely unwarranted. Ransom has beenmaking himself almost impossible to soothe. To any outside perspective, he’ssure it would seem real annoying, cumbersome to the point of rudeness, really.But an outside perspective probably wouldn’t note how, ever since Ransom andHolster broke the news of their break-up, Shitty and Lardo have stoppedstressing over the many confusing and frustrating details of their impendingwedding in favor of stressing over Ransom’s broken heart.

         “Alright,”Ransom says, because the wedding is very close—the ceremony occurring inapproximately one hour and twenty-two minutes. Which means, aside from the factthat two of his best bros are pledging to be bros for life in the mostkick-ass-ingest wedding ceremony/reception in the history of parties,that soon Ransom will not have to see Holster from across the room at planningmeetings ever again. So he can maybe, now, afford to be easier to deal with.

         Lardosmiles, though it’s still a little smothered in the corners, and is quicklycalled away to deal with something involving the florist. Ransom puts down hisnew beer and escapes to the room where the presents are currently being kept.

         Itisn’t a large room, but it’s pretty well filled up, what with Shitty’sridiculous number of relatives with even more ridiculous names and basicallythe entirety of Shitty’s and Lardo’s graduating classes at Samwell in attendance—whichis to say, lots of money going around. Shitty and Lardo planned their registry well.

         “Organization”is Ransom’s specialty, so even without a list he begins sorting the presents.It’s actually quite fun—guessing which weird preppy name is Samwell alumni orKnight relative, creating sub-sections for fun wrapping paper and ridiculouslysized boxes, both large and small. After a handful of minutes, he decides tomake it extra fun and pulls out his phone, swiping to the Google Sheetapp on his phone, and that is when the door is opened.

         Holsterblinks, wide-eyed, when he stumbles into the present room only to find Ransommostly obstructing his way. “Oh,” he says. “Hi.”

         Ransomrolls his eyes and, without a moment’s pause, pushes Holster back against the now-closeddoor and kisses the living daylights out of him. Holster huffs a laugh, warmand damp against Ransom’s insistent mouth. His hands—big palms, longpiano-playing fingers—come up to curl around Ransom’s biceps, somehow bothpulling him closer and pushing him away. His lips slow out of their smile untilthe kiss goes melty, languid, heavy. Ransom sighs at the syrup sweetnessand it pulls their mouths apart, but he rests his forehead against Holster’s,not caring particularly for personal space at this moment.

         “Someonemissed me,” Holster says, the grin audible in his voice. Ransom pinches hisside and Holster squeaks, ticklish.

         “Shutup,” Ransom mumbles against his chin. “I did miss you.”

         Holster’shands—previously on his arms—snake around his middle, latching together at thesmall of Ransom’s back. He tugs, once, and presses them together. “Missed youtoo,” he says. “This sucked.”

         Ransomhums in agreement. “Let’s never break up again,” he says, pouting.

         Holstergrins against his cheek. “You proposing to me, bro?”

         “No.Not now, anyway.” Ransom pulls back to look Holster in his stupid blue eyes. “I’mnot going to throw away all my planning just because you look good in a suit,dude.”

         “Ilook great in a suit,” Holster corrects, and tugs Ransom impossiblycloser. He leers exaggeratedly. “And so do you.”

         Ransomsquints. “Are you thinking of having sex in Lardo and Shitty’s wedding giftroom?”

         Holsterblanks, hesitant. “Uh, yeah?”

         “Sweet,me too.”

         Now,maybe someone could judge them for getting it on when two of their best broswere having the biggest moment of their life in like an hour, but here’s thething. He and Holster have been “broken up” for the better part of two monthsnow. They’ve had scant few moments to get it on, what with Ransom living withthe soon-to-be-happy-couple to make the break up seem real and, simultaneously,distract them even more from the stress of wedding planning—which had been thewhole reason for the fake break-up in the first place.

         Lardoand Shitty love each, no doubt, but when they got engaged and Shitty’sgrandparents and Lardo’s mother got involved, it turned into this wholeclusterfuck of an event that had both of them threatening to elope every otherday. In the long-term, not great for their marital bliss. So Ransom andHolster, like the great bros they are, manufactured a different, more pressingproblem for the group to deal with to take some of the heat off the weddingthing. And it worked, beautifully if Ransom may brag a little. Lardo and Shittywere so preoccupied with making sure he was okay that they haven’t threatenedto elope in weeks and they’ve actually been able to enjoy the lead-up totheir wedding instead of stress (… well, when they weren’t comforting theirfriend in the fake worst moment of his life, but eggs and omelets and allthat).

         SoRansom thinks he deserves a little action from his best bro after basicallysaving his other bros from angering both of their families forever andgiving them a kick-ass wedding day. Any heartache they may or may not havefaked/caused will all be fixed after the wedding when they explain everythingto the group and they’ll all be able to drink and laugh over the whole thing.

         Besides,Ransom thinks, as Holster begins to make his way down Ransom’s neck, make-upsex is the best. Who could begrudge him that?

         …

         (So.Things don’t go quite to plan. Mostly because Jack and Bits come lookingfor a good place to canoodle, stumble upon Ransom and Holster making up,and the truth comes out a little earlier than expected.

Acrossthe heads of their arguing friend group, Holster sends Ransom a wink, andRansom grins. He holds out a fist for Holster to bump and he can tell, as theirknuckles brush, that they’re both thinking the same thing. Totally worth it.)

[bangtanficrecs]

Lost & Found Batch #20

Can’t start up the blog again without posting the newest batch! As always, if you happen to know the fic the ask is looking for, reply to this post or send us an ask with the request number and title/author. If you happen to know any fics from Past Batches, those are more than welcome as well. Thank you!! ~ Admin P

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

1) Hi! I’m looking for a fic I read quite a while ago and if you can help me i’ll be forever grateful... it was about namjoon having powers and accidentally causing damage, so seokjin (who was a kind of a social worker assigned to him) sent him to live with yoongi as a way to make up for his “crime”. Yoongi was also magical and lived isolated from society. If I remember correctly hoseok was also guilty of something and sent to yoongi with namjoon. Sorry if it’s too vague, but that’s all I remember

2) Hi, I decided to give this a try though I think the fic may have been deleted because I just can't find the fic anymore. Basically its ot7 and the main character (Jungkook?) took the boys to meet his mom. The author had the boys super athletic, tall and in college;they were also from Texas. Jungkook sadly had to deal with homophobic classmates. It was a one shot I believe.

Hey, Momma by CaridwenAngetueur1

3) hi!! i’m trying to find a yoonmin fic i read a while ago, where yoongi lived in this small town and had an apothecary and jimin would come and sing in the town centre, and yoongi would give him something for his nerves before he’d go on stage. i remember jimin would glow and light would shoot out from him when he sung. it was a completed fic on ao3, i can’t seem to find it. thank you so much for your help!!

4) Hello! If you don’t mind helping me, im looking for a jikook fic i can’t seem to find again on ao3. Its a time travel, canon au where present day bts where in japan and Jungkook had went through a shrine? He ends up in the past with younger!bts and acts as like a cousin to Jungkook until they can figure out how to send him back. I remember there being a scene where younger!bts miss their flight to help older!jungkook get back to the future? If you need more details please let me know. Thank you!

5) Hello! I'm looking for a vmin fic where flowers literally grow on Tae and he's really insecure about it and gets depressed. It's super soft and fluffy and the entire thing is pretty much just Jimin taking care and comforting him. I'm pretty sure it's a one-shot and that they are the only two that are explicitly brought up. I love it so much and I hope that this isn't too vague.

6) hi idk if any of u can help me find this fic but imma try: its an au in which kids go disappearing often and i can only remember that one day taehyung is one of them and jungkook takes it up on himself to find him bc he firmly believes that he isnt dead yet. not sure bout this but i also think tae got kidnapped to get tested on? and seokjin is one of the doctors in that institution??? this fic is written by a fanboy as far as i can recall and had a reallyyyyyy hard to remember title sigh 😔

kotov syndrome by wormkun Note: The fic is locked and requires an AO3 account to view

7) Hey so I read this fic a while ago but no matter what i search, i can't seem to find it. Namjoon was a depressed ?college student? and he wrote songs that he only showed to his friend Jimin. He and Jimin go to a coffee shop where Yoongi works and yoongi keeps leaving notes to RM on Joon's coffee cups, but namjoon doesnt' know who RM is. I think it turns out Jimin had been posting Joons songs and yoongi recognized his voice and wanted to encourage him. NJ writes always and almost attempts suicide

8) Hello, I was wondering if you could help find this fanfic I've looking for forever. It's an ot7 relationship fic ( I think it's jimin centric). it was still not completed. The summary was something like taehyung asking jimin if he wanted to be in a relationship with them and jimin saying No. Because technically he already knew they were all in a relationship and he felt betrayed that he was left out for so long. There is something about a creepy sasaeng fan too. I would really appreciate it.

Last to Know by Meadow_Wanderer

9) Hi! Im looking for an au fic where Jungkook was depressed, and was with V who had anger problems bc of past child abuse. Jhope didn’t like Jungkook bc of something about his dark past involving his sister who I think was raped and died. I also remembered RM having a tattoo and being an ex member of a mafia group. He blew a gas station up, and Jin thought he died but he came back, and they had sex on the window. JK attempted suicide as well but Jin saved him. Thanks!!

10) I'm searching for a vminhope fanfic. It was I believe an A/B/O one. It was on aff. Hoseok was a berserker, Jimin was a beta and Tae was an omega.

11) Hi!!!!! I've been looking for this one fic forever. It's about jungkook who's an art student and jimin and taehyung are cops who look out for him. Jungkook talks a lot about suicide and he's a university art student. I think one of the art projects in the fic was a corpse painting with flowers. Jungkook also stole from a convenience store and when jimin and Rae caught up to him they noted he had a red beanie in his pocket. Thats all. Thank you!!!

12) There was this fic where Jungkook was lonely and lived alone in a hut on the woods, and he saw Jimin in a club took him to that hut and Jimin tried to run away but Injured his leg and had to stay. It's wip, and now i can't find it :( help please?

13) i'm having trouble finding a fanfic about taekook, where jungkook finds taehyung in a lake (or any body of water), and it turns out that he's from past times. he shows taehyung around present day, and taehyung at one point dresses up as a cowboy. jungkook gives taehyung's peepee the big succ, they get caught by the police, but they run away. from my memory, that's where it ends, or there may be more to it. even tags from ao3 to jog my memory will help.

14) I read this Taejin fanfic a while ago and now I can’t find it, all I know about it is that Taehyung was in some way abused and Jin brought him to his home, also that Jin had a twin brother, also it had many chapters, if you can find it I’ll be very grateful!!!

15) Hi! I read a yoomin fic in ao3 when I was new in the Fandom and I can't find it anywhere, I remember it being angst, mostly Yoongi's pov, it was set in the I need you era and Yoongi played the piano for jungkook's dance, I also remember Jimin struggled with eating disorders and alcoholism and that at some point they had a big fight when jimin came home drunk in a random cab d

16) Hi! I can't find a fic I read few years ago, so I was wondering if you could help)) It was Taehyung/Namjoon fic, and Namjoon hired him as his fake ex-boyfriend so that his friends (Hoseok and Jimin if I remember correctly) would stop asking him to go on dates or smth like that.

if it bleeds by wertstoffhof (roachprince)

17) Hello! I’m hoping you can help me find a fic, it’s a mental hospital one where all the members apart from jin and namjoon are in the mental hospital and another member (maybe jungkook) arrives and it turns out jin is making up their diagnosis because he thought they’d want to stay longer. If that’s too brief i can remember specific bits but i couldn’t find anything on your tags, thank you! Jin is a sort of like a therapist who looks after them and namjoon is like the manager of sorts i think

Seeking Heaven by fullofsuga

18) Hello, hope you're well! I was wondering if you could help me find a Jihope fic that I've been looking for forever! Jimin was friends with Taehyung and didn't know the rest of the boys until he was added into a group chat. I remember that Jimin worked in a shop that was broken in to, and that Taehyung didn't want Jimin and Hoseok to date? I think the chapter titles were all days of the week as well - thank you!!

19) Hey do you know the name of this historic au fic where Yoongi is a chaebol and I think he buys Jungkook from his abusive dad to be his servant? I remember he teaches him how to read and even gives up his money just to be with jungkook and becomes an author

tear the moon from the stars tonight by euphoriae

20) Hi! I'm looking for a YoonMin fanfic that's a pretend/fake dating au, where Jimin was at the grocery shop and his ex suddenly came up and started teasing/mocking him? Then Yoongi suddenly came up behind him and started pretending to be his bf? Thank you so much and I'm so sorry for the bother!

21) Hey! I've been looking for this fic forever (i've tried every tag on ao3, god help me). It's a v/yoongi fic where tae is really into public sex and yoongi too, but yoongi is shy at first. there's a scene at the beginning where yoongi is on a date with a girl and he goes to the bathroom to masturbate. at the middle they both are in a restaurant with 2 other people (from bts, i can't remember which members) and tae touches him. at the end tae masturbates yoongi in a restaurant/karaoke booth?

Hands-On Learning by pornographicpenguin

22) Hi! Looking for this multi chaptered abo fic where Yoongi is a omega and kookie presents as an alpha during practice and triggers yoongi's heat. Later on jin and joon become mates but it's mainly about yoonkook slowly getting together... Idk if that's helpful but it's driving me crazy because I can't find it

23) Hi, I'm looking for an old jin/yoongi fic that had a magical element in it I read a while ago and need a little help. Yoongi is an underground rapper and he always passes by this shop. One night after a gig he actually stops in front of it and goes in. Jin runs it and gives him a drink. (I think its tea but idk) he also gives him a muffin or cupcake. At the end jin tells yoongi he was looking for love and that's what led yoongi into the shop.

24) Hi! I’m looking for a fic I read a year back. It has Jin as an assassin and he saved the maknae line from abuse and stuffs and they fell in love with him. And he also has a relationship with Suga

25) Weird fic I read but I want to see if more came out. Anyway it's super weird, bts is the a werewolf gang and they go to a party for the higher ranking alphas. There they meet an omega of a high ranking alpha and then more stuff happens that I can't remember. I just thought of it randomly and I wanted to see if you could find it. It's okay of you can't I appreciate the help either way.

26) Ok color me corrected if you manage to find this fic, but I can’t seem to remember anything about it. It’s a red string of fate/soulmate au but I CANNOT remember the pairing. I think it was canon divergent, they lived in the dorm together. I remember that the string was actually tangible and the pair would always trip over it. Thanks haha

27) I am looking for a fic I read ages ago. It was jikook, they were in high school. Jk is really rich and loves taking photos one day he sees jm and is compelled to take a photo of his bright orange hair. Tae sees the photo and hires jk so take photos of jimin as he never sees him smile. Jm is very poor, he is freinds with joon and tae I think. Jin is jks brother. Jm initially gets mad at jk but eventually they become friends and fall in love. There was some past stuff with taegi too I think.

Imperfectly Perfect by whenIseeUsmile

28) Hi. I'm looking for a fic on ao3. It's a historical royalty au and I think it's yoonmin. I think it's incomplete too. Yoongi is a prince and his brother is JK. Jimin and Jin are spys from a neighbouring kingdom that's on the verge of war. The last chapter I remember has the castle being invaded and the royal family being killed, there may have been a fire. I hope you can help

Death In Disguise by pikachoi

[unfolded73]

To Come Out the Other Side (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: David mourns his husband. That’s it, that’s the fic. (AO3)

Notes: I wrote this for the SC darkest timeline collection on ao3, a place intended for sad as fuck fics that don’t have a happy ending. I didn’t think I’d post it here at all, but based on the reception it got last night, I’m going to. WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (in the recent past), grief, loss, and a brief mention of suicidal thoughts.  Don’t read if wallowing in sadness isn’t something you want to do. Rated Teen, 4500 words.

_________________________________

Three months, two weeks, and two days

David crosses and recrosses his legs, shifting on the generic loveseat in the overly pastel office. He looks up and down at the therapist who introduced herself to him earlier as Vanessa. She’s visibly pregnant, and he feels a flash of irrational anger that she could get herself in such a state when she’s got patients to see. When she’s taking on new patients like him who are going to need her full attention. What right does she have to have a baby? What right does she have to have a happy family when he’s so—

“I’m sure it’s been a difficult few months,” she says.

He laughs bitterly.

“I know, that goes without saying. What prompted you to make an appointment to start seeing me?”

“My best friend kind of insisted.” He drags his hand up and down on his thigh, scratching at the soft denim. “She worries.”

“Well, that’s understandable. It was brave of you to actually go through with it, though.”

David sneers. He doesn’t want to hear someone calling him brave. He isn’t brave. If he were brave, he wouldn’t have spent the last hundred and eight days ghosting through the empty remains of his life like he has. He’d have done something dramatic. Something concrete. Sell the house. Sell the stores. Leave town. Walk into traffic.

“Can you tell me what a typical day is like for you right now?”

David heaves a sigh. “I sleep late. I have employees who open the stores.”

“The stores?”

“Yeah, we own…” He stops and corrects himself; even the act of correcting his language is becoming a habit now. “I own three general stores in the area. Schitt’s Creek, Elm Glen, and Elmdale. It’s called Rose Apothecary.”

There’s a spark of recognition in Vanessa’s eyes. “I’ve been to the one here in Elmdale. It’s great.”

“Thank you.” He looks down at his lap. “I sleep a lot.”

“That’s common, with grief,” she says in a kind voice. He doesn’t want that kindness from her. He wants her to fix him. He wants her to tell him if feeling like this will ever end. He wants her to tell him he deserves to feel like this, for daring to be the one of them left alive.

“I usually go in and check on the Elm Glen or Elmdale stores by noon. Spend the afternoon calling vendors, or…” Or staring at his laptop, not doing anything.

“You live in Schitt’s Creek, though, right?” Vanessa asks.

“Yes.”

“You don’t go to that store? The one near home?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Why not?”

He rolls his eyes. She’s sussed out the answer, she just wants to make him say it, obviously. “That was the first one we built. Before we were married. Before we were even a couple. We…” He feels tears burning behind his eyes. How can there still be tears left, David wonders. It doesn’t seem possible.

“That store symbolizes your relationship with…” She consults the clipboard she’s holding. “Patrick.”

He’s instantly furious with her for speaking his name out loud, and also for having to check what his name is, for not having it seared into her brain. For having it written on a piece of paper like it isn’t something sacred. Perhaps together with words like ‘aneurysm’ and ‘grieving’ and ‘widower’.

“Yeah, I fell in love with my husband there, so it’s not a huge fucking mystery why I don’t want to be there,” David says, crossing his arms and giving her his haughtiest, cruelest look. Vanessa seems unphased. She just gives him more of those kind eyes. He hates her. He imagines himself storming out of her office and never coming back, but Stevie would be disappointed in him, and Stevie is the main reason he’s made it through the last three months, so.

David sighs and stays put.

“How long were you married?” Vanessa asks.

“Thirteen years,” he says, his breath betraying him and hitching on the words. “Unlucky thirteen.”

“So what do you do after you go to work in the afternoon?”

“I go back home.”

“Do you still live—”

“In the house we shared? Yes.”

She waits, letting the silence stretch out. It’s excruciating.

“I packed up all of his things in the first couple of weeks. It gave me something to do. Boxed up mementos to give to his parents. Donated his guitar to the high school. Same with the piano — I paid a special moving company to come and take it away. Boxed up all of his boring clothes to go to Goodwill.” He stares at an ugly painting of purple flowers up on the wall.

“You didn’t keep any mementos for yourself?” Vanessa asks quietly.

“No.”

He expects her to ask why not, figures he’ll have to describe how Marcy Brewer had asked him the same thing, causing him to break down in front of her for the fourth time in as many days. She doesn’t ask. What she asks is worse.

“Do you ever think about harming yourself?”

“Yes, but not— I don’t have a plan.” He remembers that from a psychiatrist whose care he’d been under in high school. The overheard murmur as Dr. Herndon spoke to his parents. He has intrusive thoughts, dark thoughts, but he hasn’t made a plan to commit suicide. Having a plan was important.

“What form do these thoughts take?”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” David says with a huff. “He’d be so angry.”

“Patrick would?”

David nods. Not that he believes in an afterlife, but Patrick would find a way to be angry anyway.

~~~

Seventeen days

Alexis crouches next to him on the floor of the bathroom, and he can feel her hand resting on his back as he empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

“I can do this on my own, thanks,” he says after spitting into the bowl. His stomach is still churning.

“I know you can.” She doesn’t move, other than to rub his back.

He was crying before his stomach decided to reject the dinner he tried to feed it earlier, and the tears coming out of his eyes now as a result of vomiting don’t seem that different. He wonders if they are different. If some scientist with a fancy piece of equipment somewhere could measure a chemical difference between the tears that come from your eyes when you’re throwing up, and the tears that come from missing someone so desperately that you literally don’t think you can go on living without him.

He heaves again, but nothing is left to come up.

A few more minutes has him cleaned up and back on the sofa, Alexis wiping the sweat on his forehead with a damp cloth. She’s 44 now, and elegant, and as beautiful as he’s ever seen her.

“You should have gone back to New York a week ago,” he tells her.

“Actually, it was L.A. that I was supposed to be in a week ago, but it’s fine.” She combs her fingers through his hair, her eyes roaming over his face. He wonders if she thinks the way his hair is flecked with bits of gray now makes him look too much like Dad. “What good is all of this technology if I can’t do these meetings remotely?”

“You can’t babysit me forever.”

“I’m not planning to babysit you forever, David.” She sounds annoyed, and the sound of her annoyed voice is weirdly soothing. It’s the cadence of those years in the motel. It’s her being irritated by his cologne and his time spent in the bathroom. It’s her pining over Ted and talking him down from bumps in the road with Patrick. It’s the morning of his wedding when she fluttered about, making sure that everything was perfect on the best day of his life.

He starts to cry again, and Alexis pulls him into her arms. She’s deceptively strong, his sister, and he lets himself be held.

~~~

Four months, three weeks, and one day

“What did you do this week?” Vanessa asks, and he doesn’t want to disappoint her, he actually doesn’t. He wants to be the kind of person who can walk in here and say, I’m a little bit better this week. I went to the gym. I looked at a flower. I appreciated the ephemeral nature of life and love.

“I watched three seasons of Justified.”

Vanessa doesn’t show any judgement on her face. “How was that?”

David shrugs. “I don’t remember. Timothy Olyphant is hot, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

She smiles then. “What sort of thing?”

“That cowboy thing.”

“Ah.” She’s silent then, doing that thing again where she lets the silence settle to see what he’ll do to fill it. David studies his nails, trying to call her bluff. The seconds tick by.

He loses the battle.

“Sometimes I think if I’d just had time to prepare for it. If he’d been a heavy drinker or a drug user or if he’d gotten cancer. Something to ease me into the idea of him… of him dying. Instead one day I’m having a completely normal, mundane day, and the next day my whole world had fallen apart.” He stares hard at the ugly flower painting. “I gave him a handjob the night before, did I mention that?” His eyes slide down to Vanessa’s, to see if he’s shocked her. It doesn’t look like it. “After he… I kept thinking over the next few weeks that if I’d known it was the last time, I’d have… I would have made the sex more special. Not just given him a stupid handjob.”

“Any type of sex is special if it’s between people who love each other,” Vanessa says, and David throws his hands up in frustration. She’s missing the point.

“My point is, I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t get to do anything to make his last day on earth good. He deserved… he deserved a good day. All the good days.”

“Who’s to say he didn’t have a good day? Also, you were married for thirteen years. I bet you gave him lots of good days.”

David shakes his head. “I was difficult. We were very different, and sometimes we argued.” He inhales shakily, trying not to cry. “I gave him bad days too.”

“Another thing that is totally normal with someone you were married to for thirteen years.”

His laugh is sharp. “Stop being so understanding.”

“You want to feel like you didn’t deserve him?” she asks.

“I didn’t.”

“It’s a way of explaining why he was taken away from you too soon. That it was karma or something. That you deserve this.”

David looks away, blinking rapidly.

“You don’t deserve this, David.”

~~~

One month

The edibles kick in just as the second episode of Great British Bake Off is beginning. He wouldn’t say he feels good — he hasn’t felt good for a single solitary moment since he lost Patrick — but the edge of the huge knife buried in his chest feels a little blunted. He can stop treading water for just a minute and float. He’s still in the icy cold water, still drowning, but he doesn’t feel the cold at the moment.

Stevie giggles at one of Sue Perkins’ terrible puns. David snuggles deeper into their blanket and tries to let himself get lost in the drama of baking a perfect Opera cake, but his mind wanders and he imagines that Patrick is at baseball practice, or out having beers after the game with his team. That he’ll come home late while David is on step four of his nine-step skincare regimen, smelling vaguely of cigarette smoke from the cluster of smokers who loiter outside the door of the Wobbly Elm. Patrick will shower to wash off the grime of the day and they’ll snuggle in bed together, David letting him be the little spoon for once.

He’s so lost in the fantasy that when he finally notices Stevie crying, her face red and puffy, it seems like it’s been going on for a while.

“Sorry,” she says, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve. “These weed gummies might not be for me.”

David watches her for a second, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet. “You miss him too.”

“David—”

“Stevie, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

She eyes him with annoyance. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

“No, I’ve been leaning so hard on you that I didn’t even think about the fact that you’re… that you’re hurting too.”

“David, you lost…” He can see the wheels turning as she tries to come up with some way to say it that doesn’t just lay it all bare, ragged and bleeding like it is. “What I’m feeling is not relevant compared to what you lost. It’s a mosquito bite compared to your…”

“Gaping chest wound?”

Stevie laughs, and then just as quickly claps a hand over her mouth. “I’m a monster. I’m the worst friend.”

“No, you aren’t,” David says, pausing Netflix and turning to face her. The high is making words need to spill out of his mouth. “Do you know what I was thinking last night?” Stevie shakes her head. “I was thinking that Patrick would be so pissed off at himself for dying. Because it totally messed up all of his plans, and he hated having his plans messed up.”

Stevie laughs again, and this time she doesn’t try to stop herself. “God, you’re so right. He’d be fucking furious.”

“Not that he didn’t plan for it. I mean, we had wills only because he insisted on it, and he left me a file with all of his passwords in it, and to be honest, I kind of wish he hadn’t? Because now I have no excuse not to pay the bills.”

“David, I’ve been paying your bills.”

“Right, like I said.”

She kicks his shin under the blanket, and they regard each other in silence for a moment across the length of the couch.

“I started jerking off again,” David says with a sigh.

“Congrats,” Stevie says.

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m being sincere, I think? It’s a little piece of normal. It’s like… life moving on.”

“I don’t want life to move on.”

“Of course you don’t, you want to wear funeral blacks and pace around at the top of a lighthouse until you die of grief.”

“Consumption would also be acceptable,” David says, sniffing imperiously.

“David, I know it’s a long way away, but the day will come when things will get normal again. When you’ll wake up and feel okay, when you can go to the store and not be constantly thinking about him, when you even—”

“Don’t say it—”

“Date again.”

“I’m not going to date again. I lost the love of my life; why on earth would I date again?” He’s once again glad for the weed gummies, because speaking those words out loud sober would probably ruin him.

“Because some day you’re going to get tired of your hand, and I’m not going to fuck you.”

He picks up the remote to unpause the TV. “Well, warmest regards to you.”

Stevie shifts over, nudging and prodding him until they are snuggled together on the sofa. “Best wishes, David,” she whispers against his chest.

~~~

Six months, one week, and six days

He pours himself some of the terrible, burned coffee that percolated from the ancient coffee pot to give his hands something to do. He hates being here. He’s only here because Vanessa made him promise right before she gave birth that he go to group therapy at least three times during her maternity leave. David can stand three hours of anything, even sitting in a sad circle with other sad people with this sad styrofoam cup clutched in his hand.

The facilitator of course makes him introduce himself, because he’s new, and in that moment he despises Vanessa and her stupid baby more than he’s ever despised anyone.

“I’m David. My husband died six months ago,” he says simply, hoping that can be enough. The expectant looks on everyone’s faces tells him it isn’t. “It was a ruptured brain aneurysm, so there was no warning. One day I was married to the love of my life, and the next day I was wondering how the hell I was supposed to organize a funeral for…” He inhales and exhales slowly. “... for the best person I ever knew.”

People around the circle greet him with sympathetic smiles and platitudes, and he bites the inside of his lip to keep himself from telling them to fuck off. They go around the circle and talk about their grief — an older woman whose husband died of pancreatic cancer, another whose son died of an opioid overdose, a man whose teenage daughter committed suicide. All of their stories are tragic, as tragic as David’s, and maybe it’s supposed to make him feel better, knowing that people in the world are struggling the same way he’s struggling, but it doesn’t. It makes him think that the world in general and humanity in particular is irredeemably fucked up.

When he’s forced to talk again, he can’t think of what to say, so he ends up telling these strangers about the phone call he had with his mother-in-law earlier that day.

“She wants me to come out for Thanksgiving in a few months, but I just… I don’t think that would be good for anyone.”

“Why do you think it wouldn’t be good for anyone?” the facilitator asks.

“Because the last thing the Brewers need when they’re mourning their only son is to have their son-in-law who is different from him in every possible way — and generally agreed to be too much in every situation — in their house, reminding them of what they’ve lost.”

One of the older women reaches over and pats him on the arm. “You said your husband was their only son, but looked at another way, you are now their only son. Maybe it would help them to be with you. And maybe it would help you too.”

He tunes out the rest of the sad stories, and when the group session mercifully ends, David flees before anyone can talk to him. He doesn’t go back, his promise to Vanessa be damned.

He does tell Marcy he’ll think about coming for a visit, though.

~~~

Two months, three weeks, and three days

“David Rose,” Ronnie says when she encounters him in the cereal aisle of the Brebner’s. She looks at him as balefully as she always has, which is a comfort when he’s still getting sympathetic glances from everyone in town every damn day that he manages to leave the house. As if he didn’t have enough reason to avoid the café, Twyla’s eyes well up every time she sees him. It’s more than he should be expected to endure when he just wants a grilled cheese.

“Mayor Lee,” he answers before returning to his contemplation of the cereals on offer. Patrick liked cereals with nuts and granola in them. David is trying to decide if there is any reason not to buy a giant box of Fruity Pebbles.

Ronnie is looking in his cart, which actually isn’t the collection of shameful frozen meals for one that she probably expects to find. He may not have known how to cook when he moved to Schitt’s Creek but he knows now, and he’s trying to get into the kitchen again now that he’s run out of the frozen casseroles from friends and acquaintances that filled his freezer for the past several weeks. Besides, there’s something meditative about chopping things, even if he does end up throwing most of the leftovers away. It’s a step.

“How are you, David?” she asks, her eyes coming up from the contents of his cart to meet his own.

He shrugs. “I’m out of bed.”

She nods, and then reaches out and touches his arm. “It’s good to see you,” she says, and he feels his eyes burn with tears at the unexpected affection.

He turns and grabs the Fruity Pebbles, holding it up to her. “There’s no one to shame me about buying garbage cereal,” he explains, his mouth pulling to one side as he puts it in the cart.

“As long as that’s not your dinner,” she says.

“No, I’m actually making a stir fry for dinner.”

She eyes him sidelong. “Sounds like you might need company to help you eat all that food.”

David tilts his head. “I’m sorry, but are you inviting yourself over to my house?”

“Call it the mayor's prerogative,” she says. “I’ll bring the whiskey.”

An unfamiliar smile comes to his lips. “See you at six-thirty.”

Ronnie turns out to be the perfect houseguest for a grieving person. She talks about the problems she’s having with the current council members (“I never would have thought I’d long for the days of Moira Rose on city council, but here we are”) and her contracting business and she asks after the store, and whether he’s still liking the cabinets she installed two years ago. She doesn’t mention Patrick, but she also isn’t visibly avoiding mentioning him the way some people do. It’s only when they’ve finished eating and she pours a measure of whiskey for both of them that she gives David a nod and clinks her glass against his and says, “Patrick was a good man.”

David scoffs. “You hated him.”

“I didn’t hate him.” She takes a sip of her whiskey and tilts her head back. “He rubbed me the wrong way at first, but I got over it.”

“I think he’d be surprised to hear that.”

She smirks. “He just needed someone to keep him on his toes. Everyone else thought he was too perfect.”

David drinks his whiskey and mulls that over. “You had a lot in common, you know. Queer, small-business owners, an unhealthy fixation on baseball…”

Ronnie laughs, a satisfying cackle that’s as smoky as the whiskey they’re drinking. They both stare into their glasses. The constant ache in David’s chest swells with how much he misses Patrick.

“I’m furious with him sometimes for leaving me,” he whispers, surprised that the words have come out of his mouth. He’s not sure if he could have said them to anyone else, even Stevie.

“You’re allowed to feel that way,” Ronnie says. “You gotta go through all that to come out the other side.”

He lets go of a half-laugh, half-sob. “There’s another side? I’m starting to doubt that.”

“So they say. Give it time; you’ll get there.”

“Thanks for coming,” he says after a while, his voice raspy. “This was… it helped.”

She pats his hand. “I can always go for a meal I don’t have to cook myself. Anytime you want some company, you just give me a call.”

~~~

Seven months, two weeks, and two days

“Thanks for… helping me with this,” David says to his father.

Johnny Rose glances up at him over his reading glasses. “That accountant you hired could probably help with this as well as I can.”

“I’m sure she could, but the stores are keeping her plenty busy. I don’t want to burden her anymore than I already do.”

“It’s her job, David; it’s not a burden.” His hands tremble as he sets the paperwork down on the table. His father is getting old, David thinks, and he resists the urge to bundle his parents off to the hospital to have every possible test done, to try to extend their lives as long as he possibly can. “But I’m happy to help, of course,” Johnny continues. “Are you sure this is what you want to do with the money, though? Patrick’s life insurance money is there to help you. There’s no shame in using it to make your life a little bit easier.”

David’s been thinking a lot lately about the fact that he was once a person who grieved for the loss of his money, for the loss of luxury. Now he knows he’d go through that a million times over just to have his husband back. He’d sleep in a moth-infested tent, he’d give away all of his clothes, he’d spend the rest of his days in a pair of overalls from Walmart if he could just see Patrick standing in front of him again. It puts a lot of things he cares about in perspective.

“I’m keeping some of it. But this is what I want to do with the rest,” David says, tapping the papers.

His father gives him a smile, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “He’d be so proud of you, son.”

~~~

One year, two months, one week, and six days

He stands next to the grave marker. It was several months after the funeral before he could even bear to drive by here. Then the anniversary of Patrick’s death came and went, and he started to feel a pull to come stand next to the grave. Now spring is in full bloom, and David looks around and has to admit that it’s a beautiful spot. Maybe he should have been coming here all along. Maybe it would have helped.

“Ronnie fixed the leaky pipes in the basement. And she gave me a good quote for the upgrades to the Elm Glen location. I know you’d say get quotes from at least two other contractors, but you aren’t here so I’m just going to give her the work.” He imagines the look Patrick would give him, the indulgent annoyance of it, and he smiles.

“They named the new band room at the high school after you because of the money I gave them. The plaque they put up is horrible, but I was gracious about it. You would have been proud.

“I still miss you every day,” David says, his voice husky. “Stevie suggested maybe it would help to stop wearing your rings, but I told her to eat a bag of razor blades. Maybe she’s right, but I don’t think so.” He twists one of the gold bands now. “It makes me feel better, I think, to have this tiny piece of you with me.”

The wind blows gently, rustling through the grass.

“I did go on a date with that alpaca farmer, though, the one I told you about. Chloe.” He runs his hand over the top of the headstone. “We realized we were at Coachella three of the same years, back before she left Los Angeles. She might have been even more ridiculous in her early thirties than I was.” He imagines Patrick laughing at that. “It’s true,” he protests, laughing a little bit himself.

“I don’t think I’m ready to love anyone else. Maybe I never will be. But it’s nice to… it’s nice to be with someone sometimes. Not all alone, rattling around the house. You always said I was starved for affection, so… Anyway. I think you’d like her. I think she’d have liked you.”

He stays for another several minutes, staring out over the rolling fields, watching a hawk circle in the sky.

Before he turns to go, he pats the headstone again, gold rings against the granite. “Love you, honey.”

[night-filled-mountain]

So the Labenda Swamp/Berleben episodes, while they had plenty of stand-out moments (KIRI! CALI! Shaving with a greatsword! Awkward hug!), weren’t exactly my favorites this campaign. Intra-party tension, lots of combat, lots of single-minded focus on their job (...their purely mercenary job for a crime boss, with no element of emotional investment or even a whiff of heroism). Basically, they had the generally grim atmosphere that you’d probably expect from a shitty swamp town. By the end of ep. 23, I was really craving some downtime for the group, some richer, softer interactions, juicy character development, and maybe an altruistic side quest that would help me really root for the Mighty Nein (much as I adore their shadiness).

...I cannot express how hard Hupperdook delivered on all of this. I loved this episode so much, you guys. SO MUCH.

Highlights:

There was so much goodness that I think I’m going to have to divide this up based on characters. Starting with...

CALEB

This episode was like the grand payoff for all of Caleb’s conflicts with the others about his inability to integrate with the group. Practically every little thing he did confirmed his affection for them and his determination to be kind and playful and fully present for them, to shed his sad-loner persona and become a team player:

-Magically lighting Beau’s firecracker for her with no hesitation, even though they’re both well aware of his issues with fire

-Encouraging Nott in her dance plans with Jester--i.e. encouraging her to enjoy herself with someone other than him, which feels incredibly healthy for both of them

-Hasting Jester to improve her piano-playing, and tossing gold in the “tipping hat” for her

-Having a civil (and hilarious) conversation with Fjord about the hazards of rooming with Molly in a party town--and actually inviting Fjord to share a room with him and Nott, which I kind of wish we got to see, although the way things actually turned out was equally satisfying

-Telling Yasha he was sorry she wouldn’t be going out with them because he counts on her as his social-anxiety buddy

-Gently checking up on Fjord re: his flirting anxiety (more on that later)

-Participating in the drinking contest--again, with no hesitation (and killing it!). This went against so many of Caleb’s usual scruples (not spending money frivolously, avoiding crowds and social interaction), not to mention making him extremely vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. He had to know that some of his closely guarded secrets might come out, and he had to extract a promise that they wouldn’t let him pass out in the gutter...but he went through with it anyway, trusting the group to take care of him. And they (specifically Jester) justified his trust.

-THE DRUNKEN SINGING. Counting and singing both seem to be compulsions for Caleb, especially in stressful situations (we’ve seen him sing a version of that “Mighty Nein” song on the battlefield, haven’t we?), but even after the heartbreak of the waltz scene, nothing can quite beat, “One of those things is true...aaand you are blue.”

-Speaking of which...

JESTER

-That waltz honestly might have been the saddest (and sweetest) scene of the entire campaign. In a situation that would normally be ripe for high comedy (the most awkward, inhibited member of the party gets super drunk and agrees to dance with Jester, trickery cleric and perpetual agent of chaos), we got a quiet slow dance and a line so poignant in context and delivery that I’m tearing up just thinking about it. The way Laura/Jester’s face instantly crumbled (even though Jester knows nothing of Caleb’s backstory). Her instantly softened tone, the complete lack of teasing. Caleb’s broken little “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m...I’m sorry.” His sudden reversion to Sad Loner Eternally Punishing Himself, as he walked away to seek out solitude in some filthy gutter. Jester’s determination to Not Let Him Do That, to keep her promise and get him into bed. “I’m sure Astrid loves you very much.”

...Yeah, I’m not sure how to do that scene justice other than crying about it.

Moving on to somewhat lighter tidbits...

-“I go over and give Caleb a kiss on the cheek.” 😊 (I need to make a whole separate post at some point about Caleb and touch.) (...About everyone and touch, for that matter.)

-Jester has never been drunk. I always kind of figured that her habit of ordering milk was just an in-joke about Laura’s pregnancy, like the pickles--but no, it’s a legitimate character detail stemming from her sheltered upbringing. I felt sorry for Jester and Laura when she was the odd tiefling out in the drinking contest, but in retrospect, it’s really good (for Caleb’s sake as well as their finances’) that they had a Sober Friend on deck.

-Her conversation with Caleb about “hidden skills” made me wonder, not for the first time, whether she’s actually had a lot of sexual experience as she often implies, or whether her childhood surrounded by courtesans (and her habit of spying on their clients) has simply made her feel qualified to speak on the subject. Passing the written exam but not the practicum, as it were.

-Her frantic (and mostly futile) attempts to get her teammates to say who they’re attracted to while under Zone of Truth were good fun, but her frantic attempts to get them to say whether they like her held a bit more weight, I think. Jester is, without a doubt, the best-liked member of the Mighty Nein--I don’t think there’s a single teammate who couldn’t have truthfully answered that question with a resounding “Yes”--but Jester, with her history of isolation, her social inexperience, her lingering fears of being left alone again, still feels insecure about whether her friendships are sincere. Give Jester hugs, is what I’m saying. Give her ALL the hugs.

-Jester’s concern for Kiri gets more adorable each episode. I especially like how emphatic she is about the fact that Kiri is a person, appearances notwithstanding (“She’s like you, she’s a little girl, not a pet”). Laura said in a Talks episode a while back that Jester thought of Kiri like a doll, but I definitely think her views have evolved. There was something especially touching about the music-box scene. Hupperdook seems to present several options for safe and wholesome environments in which they might leave Kiri, but I’m kind of rooting for Rissa and her father to take her in.

-Jester got to throw around her magic a lot in fun, non-combat ways this episode. Loved the Thaumaturgy cheers for Beau, and the Infernal whispers surrounding the blacksmith kids. But that Locate Object spell not only single-handedly saved their asses, financially speaking, but also changed the entire direction of their current adventure when it led them to that final scene, with the kids in the boarded-up shop.

-It was kind of amazing to see the different ways and specific moments in which each member of the Mighty Nein was affected by the kids’ story. For Jester, of course, it was when they said their parents were thrown in jail for “idol worship.” It is killing me (in a Very Good way) how we’re gradually finding the cracks in the Nein’s cynical, mercenary armor--the emotional buttons that can be pushed to lead them to propose (or support) an actual altruistic quest, despite their much-cherished self-identity as “a bunch of assholes.” Which, of course, leads me to...

FJORD

Holy cats, did this episode radically transform the way I see and feel about Fjord. I haven’t done such an intense 180 on a character since Beau’s one-on-one scene with Dairon back in the day. That was the scene that 100% hooked me on Beau. I went in feeling lukewarm and iffy about her, and came out finding her lovable, secretly vulnerable, and generally fascinating...and this episode had the exact same effect for me re: Fjord.

-His flustered reactions to flirtation have always seemed funny before, and they were funny in this episode too, up to a point...and then, as Travis played it up, it began to feel like something more. I love that it was Caleb, of all people, who sensed Fjord’s genuine discomfort and asked if he was okay. Whether that discomfort just stems from virginity/inexperience or from some kind of bad experience, it makes Fjord’s relationship with Jester--who defaults to flirting as a standard form of social interaction, because of her upbringing--a lot more interesting to me than it’s ever been before. Her offer of sex lessons would have felt like simple comedy in an earlier episode, but now it felt like a case of fundamental miscommunication, a clash between two people with very different backgrounds and worldviews when it comes to sex and romance...and I am All About It, I am so on board for that ride, it appeals to me so much more than Jester’s simple romance-novel-fantasy version of their relationship.

-In my notes on last week’s episode, I forgot to even mention Fjord confiding in Molly about the eyeball on his sword (and Molly’s poorly-timed and poorly-executed Charm Person spell), but Fjord and Molly’s relationship always intrigues me. In this week’s installment of their roommate shenanigans, we got Fjord’s rather jaw-dropping line “Half of me’s interested, the other half is terrified” (I could just hear the fics being written on the spot). My shipping compass is all over the place at this point. On the one hand, Fjord has low wisdom and an occasional tendency to jump on board with crazy scenarios just for the hell of it. On the other hand, I could swear sometimes, looking back over the whole campaign, that the only people in whom he’s shown anything like romantic interest are Caleb and Molly. (If you want to get all metaphorical-innuendo with this, they’re the only two teammates he’s almost allowed to hold/examine his sword...yet, in both cases, he decided to refuse/hold off.)

-Fjord coaching Beau on behavior and facial expressions never, ever gets old. And for once, instead of trying to help her be more courteous and less off-putting, he got to help her ramp up her intimidation to a whole new level (for a couple of teenage punks! 😂). Molly and Caleb doing good cop/bad cop last week was a delight, but Fjord and Beau pulled it off just as brilliantly. (Are we ever going to hear what became of those kids, as they spent a day frantically searching for the thieves the Mighty Nein had already found? ^_^)

-And finally...HOW ABOUT THAT BACKSTORY, THOUGH!?

No, it’s not the first backstory drop we’ve gotten for Fjord; in fact, it’s one of the briefest. We knew about the kids who made fun of him for his tusks and drove him to file them down. We knew about his sailor background, the shipwreck, his near-drowning experience, and that he presumably made a shady deal with his patron (whether he remembers it or not). We knew about his mentor, Vandren, whose fate is still up in the air. Yet somehow, none of that had anywhere near as much impact on me as that one little line, that achingly hesitant response to the question of whether he’d ever been in an orphanage: “Yes. I was. They’re terrible fucking places.”

I’ve actually thought a lot over the course of this campaign about why I’ve had more trouble connecting to Fjord than to the other characters, and I realized that a lot of it boiled down to the fact that he’s just never seemed to have the same vulnerability. Yes, his backstory was painful, even traumatic, but there was a certain macho romanticism to it--explosions, shipwrecks, a shady kraken-esque magical patron, even the fact that the loved one he lost was a surrogate father. It was all a little bit too “classic hero” for me to really feel it down to my bones...and honestly, that also applied to Fjord in general. He was always so smooth, so polished, so badass and confident and leader-like. I never heard the same raw desperation in his voice as I did in Caleb’s when he talked about his parents, or Nott’s when she talked about her goblin heritage, or Molly’s when he talked about rejecting his forgotten past, or Jester’s when she begged the Traveler to appear, or even Beau’s (downplayed as much as she could!) when she was seeking Dairon’s approval.

But with that one line about his childhood, regardless of the specifics, Fjord has joined the club for me. I’m all in. I’d die for him as soon as I would for any of the others. ...And this turned out waaay longer than I expected. 😳 Moving on!

-Everything about Fjord during that last scene (and actually, everything about that scene in general) was pure gold. Fjord was so soft toward those kids; he gave us the gentlest rendition of the line “I’m the one asking questions” that I’ve ever heard. His quiet, eloquent, persistent appeal to the others to join him in a dangerous, unpaid, purely altruistic rescue mission did such a number on my heart.

-Also?  “I would really like the opportunity to leave this place better than we found it” was a direct quote from Molly when he talked about his circus days under Zone of Truth--and Molly definitely noticed. I love, love, love that the members of this chaotic-neutral trash group are learning to appeal directly to each other’s backgrounds, issues, and specific values, not just to get a rise out of each other, but to activate the compassion that every one of them has buried beneath a hundred layers of cynical self-interest.

-Of course, Fjord and Molly weren’t the only people having their buttons pushed in that discussion, and Fjord’s wasn’t the only big backstory drop this episode! Which brings me to...

BEAU

-Though I was initially disappointed that the gang didn’t set off a whole bunch of them in the streets of Hupperdook, I am now thrilled and terrified at the thought of all the firecrackers she still has in her possession.

-Everything about Beau and Jester’s friendship is pure as the driven snow, and Beau getting Jester a flower necklace was no exception.

-Beau: *tries to snatch Molly’s tip for a dancer out of midair; rolls a natural one* Dancer: *grabs the coin, kicks Beau in the face, and winks at her* Beau: “I wink back. You know, I kind of liked that. That was kinda hot.” Me: This is the most quintessentially Beau moment I have ever witnessed, and I love her more than air.

-Low-charisma Beau and Molly leaning on the bar, totally ignored, for 15 minutes, was beautiful...but Beau’s “Sorry to interrupt your incessant flirting, but can I please have a drink?” is everything I have ever wanted from Beau and Molly’s frenemyship. I feel so fulfilled.

-Beau’s brief involvement in Jester and Nott’s dance plans (“Yeah, I know, I’m your second choice” / Nott: “No, third” 😂). Beau gets a lot of flak for arrogance, but honestly, her self-deprecation game is almost as strong as Caleb’s, and it is both hilarious and kind of poignant every time.

-Her defense of Nott from the racist (species-ist?) firecracker salesman. “Hey, don’t ever apologize for who you are, man.” Also telling her that Caleb is “a good guy”--which, coming from the one person who (a.) knows Caleb’s full backstory and (b.) isn’t Nott, is kind of huge.

-BEAU BACKSTORY DROP. BEAU BACKSTORY DROP. I wanted it SO BADLY, and I got my wish!! There was nothing about it that I didn’t love, starting with the fact that she confided in Nott. Out of all the Mighty Nein members, they’re probably two of the people with the fewest interactions, but it makes sense that the weird Caleb/Beau/Nott bond formed during Caleb’s backstory drop continues to strengthen.

-“Are you evil? Are you a bad guy?” / “No. I don’t...I hope not. I think it differs from day to day, depending on what I’m doing. Do you think I’m a bad guy?” This said so much about Beau herself, and also Beau’s self-image--and how heavily it depends on how other people see her, despite how vehemently she’d like to claim otherwise.

-Beau’s story wasn’t shocking or even surprising--it basically just tied together a lot of the hints we’ve already gotten--but there were so many little touches that killed me:

Her painfully realistic reluctance to pronounce her father a bad person

The fact that he hired the monks to straight-up kidnap her like some kind of horrific “scared straight” stunt (which is a thing that real parents do to real children, and that’s all I’m going to say about that)

The pained sarcasm of her, “Sure. Great,” when Nott asked if she was okay...and the brief dropped eye contact when Nott asked, “Was it hard?”

The looong pause and deeep breath between, “He was hoping...” and, “...they were gonna beat my indiscretions out of me.”

“I think all of the things that my father saw in me that he hated, the monks saw as a potential advantage.” I’ve always known that Beau’s first scene with Dairon felt raw and emotional and Important, but this scene finally gave us the context to explain why.

And, more than anything, the way her voice broke and dissolved into pained laughter when she said, “In fact, he told me he never wanted to see me again.” ...If this guy is still alive, the Mighty Nein had damn well better hunt him down and give him the full Syldor Vessar or Howaardt Darrington treatment.

...I have to note that amid all those dark emotions, something about Beau’s deadpan delivery of “I worked at a library” sent me into hysterics. (Also, “That had to do with the job that I had before the job that I had--”)

In short: For her first big backstory drop, this was deeply satisfying, but there are still so many things we don’t know! Why was her childhood “meant for someone else”? What about “I came to hate the town I was in and the system my father was a part of”? That seems related to her previous confession to Caleb, that she watched her father give up everything for the Empire and get screwed over somehow. And what about her comment to Dairon ages ago about how her father’s money (for her upkeep) must not be coming in anymore? Is he dead? Missing? In prison? I WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING.

Still not the end of the Beau moments, though:

-Beau getting Fjord out of awkward sexual propositions by pleading erectile dysfunction on his behalf. Best/worst anti-wingwoman ever. (Bonus: Fjord’s Very Southern, Very Offended, “She doesn’t know me like that.” 😂)

-She finally followed through with her long-ago threat to slap Caleb! (Caleb, luckily, was not in a state to care.)

-“I will fucking punch you if you try and kiss me.” Literally could not ask for more with Beau and Molly. Could. Not. Ask. For. More.

-Her anguished “NOOOO!” when Molly literally pulled the alcohol out of her body...and of course, ”Did you touch inside of me!?”

-Despite finally dropping backstory of her own, Beau is still #1 when it comes to digging out other people’s: “I mean, Nott’s over here trying to pull my heartstrings, but it seems like you should be the target. Do you have a thing with kids in orphanages?”

Speaking of heartstrings...

NOTT

-So happy to see more of her friendship with Jester (“Do we need choreography!?”), and an attempt to revive their Detective Duo dynamic.

-It’s been a while since we saw Nott deal with racism (species-ism?). Still as much of a gut punch as ever.

-I loved seeing her gratitude to Beau for taking care of Caleb, along with her determination to make sure Beau is doing it right. I’m still not sure how I feel about Nott’s whole “I am the parent” attitude, but she’s certainly a better ‘parent’ than most of the Mighty Nein have ever known.

-She did a fantastic job bringing out Beau’s backstory without overshadowing Beau, but she still got off some great lines in that scene: “So wait. Little townsgirl, her parents are wine-makers, now you’re a brutal assassin martial artist who can kill anything...what happened in between those two things?” and  “You were bootlegging your old man’s hooch!?”

-“I never thought of you as an optimistic person, but that’s a very positive way of looking at it.” Okay...I may finally, finally be letting go of my cherished image of Scrappy Urchin Child Nott, and warming up to Maternal Nott. Watching her earnestly encourage her ever-growing collection of adopted children is kind of the best. (She was also great at “pulling Beau’s heartstrings” during the final scene, though I couldn’t help thinking that a lot of her “Don’t you think the children should be with their loving parents!?” rhetoric would’ve hit home for Caleb as well.)

-The drinking contest was a delight from start to finish, but Nott’s match was probably my second-favorite. (Nothing could beat “little Caleb” triumphing over his mild-mannered opponent.)

-It was a small moment, but it made me inordinately happy to see Nott and Molly profusely congratulating each other after the contest and then DANCING TOGETHER. They’ve barely exchanged a word since (1.) Molly wrenched deeply personal confessions out of Nott with Charm Person, (2.) They clashed in the aftermath of Scrollgate, and (3.) Nott offended Molly pretty seriously during his Zone of Truth backstory. Every single moment of Mighty Nein friendship/concern/camaraderie in this episode gave me so much life, but these two were a highlight.

And, speak of the devil...

MOLLY

It’s been quite some time since Molly got a big chance to shine. I’m mildly concerned about that, but that’s a matter for another post. (And it will probably get cleared up soon anyway--I think Tal just has a somewhat quieter play style, and takes a while to settle into his characters.) That said, the Molly moments we did get in this episode were absolute gems:

-Straight-up knight-in-shining-armoring Rissa with the punks who were harassing her. Nothing will ever be quite as gloriously creepy as blood maledicts.

-“Do I have masculine wiles!?” / “You have...pan wiles.” / “I’m into it.” (There’s this very specific voice Molly uses once in a while, this tone of pure childlike wonder, that sends my Molly love into overdrive. The lines that come to mind are, “Can I!?” back when Fjord joked that Molly could take the mirror from Pumat Sol’s shop, and “I won a strawberry!” back at the Harvest Close festival. I love that I can now add “Do I have masculine wiles!?” to the list.)

-Drawing alcohol out of Beau with his blood-hunter powers to ease her hangover

-“Whatever team you’re on, I don’t think I play for that one...It’s Team Fuck-Off, I’m well aware.”

-Throwing up on Fjord, and then tenderly bringing him to bed (...not that way)

-His “Say no more, I’m in” as soon as Fjord made it clear that the quest to break the kids’ parents out of jail was personal for him. In perfect accordance with his carnie past, Molly often walks this delicate line between “keep your head down, don’t make trouble” and “be the chaos you want to see in the world,” and I love that a friend’s Strong Feelings can single-handedly push him from one side to the other.

-I feel like there are probably more Molly moments I’m forgetting because I’m at the tail end of a post the size of Mt. Everest here, and I am most sincerely sorry.

BONUS

Yasha was barely there this episode, for obvious reasons, but I still desperately want art of her cuddling with Kiri!

IN CONCLUSION

This episode was amazing and I cannot wait for next week.

[howmanyheartaches]

I haven’t written anything fictional for half a year, so when Sparkle Sparkle came back, I was very thrilled! My Sparklee is papillon82fluttersby – HAPPY SPARKLING!

 I went for the prompt “Harumichi at an event where one of them is out of her depth”

 Not to spoil my fic at this point, just know that papillon82fluttersby’s favourite senshi used to be my favourite Inner (now they’re all juggling, but I loved her in the new Myu a lot!!).

Thank you so much, Awashsquid and Docholligay, for organising this party!

 That’s what friends are for

 Haruka wasn’t one to fear the spotlight. Of course she had been nervous before her speech at their wedding and she couldn’t deny that her heart would pound whenever all eyes were on her while she was doing something she loved. However, when she excelled in a task, she was confident; she would smile freely at all her fangirls before she’d start in a sports competition.

And it was easy for Haruka to share the spotlight with Michiru. When she’d accompanied her wife on stage, everyone was watching musical genius Michiru Kaioh anyway, so she could relax whenever she hadn’t had the time to practice enough and focus on her piano play.

But this was different. Now every note counted. And Haruka felt like a fish out of water.

Obviously, she had tried to deny it. Her lies had enough potential for an Academy Award. It was easy for Michiru to see right through her and normally, she would have tried everything to get Haruka out of this situation.

 In this case, she hadn’t much of a choice either, and the person Haruka had lied to was too caught up in her own head to acknowledge her best friend’s fake behaviour.

Michiru usually had no problem being in a recording studio. She had spent her childhood practicing the violin for three hours each and every day, competing as soon as her mother had been satisfied. The three grey walls, with a huge window completing the room, were familiar territory. Still she felt anxiety – it was like Haruka’s was mirrored back to her.

The violinist hadn’t felt Haruka this uncomfortable in a while. Back in their early days, it had almost been common. This stomach-wrenching feeling, the tremble. Even worse in battle of course. Haruka was so terribly afraid of failing – but still so brave. Why was it just so hard for Haruka to perform this song in this environment?

Was it because she didn’t want to disappoint Minako?

Michiru felt anger rising inside of her watching Minako through the window. The blonde had decided to place them both at the same time in the recording cabin, which was what Michiru preferred. She hoped her presence would soothe Haruka at some point, but so far it didn’t work any magic.

After the constant battles, time had become quiet. Michiru didn’t mind that her mirror didn’t show her any dark energy; that Rei’s dreams had slowed down. They had all been able to settle into their lives. Michiru couldn’t be happier – being married, choosing when and where to perform, spending time with her family at the beach.

Quiet however wasn’t something for Minako. It had never been, obviously, but with the reassurance that they lived in a time of peace, Minako had decided to reach her goal of becoming an idol. And not just any idol – “top top top of the world” as she liked to outline her dream.

“Could you please repeat the last part? Thank yaaa!”

Michiru sighed and shared a glance with Haruka. The butch nodded, but it seemed like a punishment to her to put the big headphones on again. They started to play the last part again. All for the sake of Minako’s new record. Unfortunately, self-produced.

From the corner of her eye, Michiru could see how beautiful Haruka looked playing the piano. The blonde was dressed in a black sweater and sleek, black pants, her hair on the loose because she was going through it so much with her fingers. She still looked nervous and had a hard time pouring her soul into her playing. The melody wasn’t even that difficult, if Minako could come up with it. Michiru raised an eyebrow, focusing on herself again, not being able to shake the uncomfortable feeling.

While they were playing away, Minako started to chat with the sound engineer. After they stopped, Michiru could hear Minako’s chattering, which didn’t really help against Michiru’s growing fume. “So I was like ‘Okay honey, we really need to put a stop to this. How about we’re continuing recording if this song is not about you being a heartbroken crybaby anymore?! Nothing about a little grief, you know, but this is certainly not about a strong woman.’ And I walked off in wide steps, clicking heels, I was a total boss babe, you know? I don’t need a collaboration like that, that’s just not my vision for this album!”

“Wow, I can’t believe that someone like you would write such a lovey-dovey ballad like this!” The sound guy waved towards Haruka and Michiru, still trapped in the cabin.

“What can I say, I’m layered”, Minako flipped her hair dramatically.

Michiru was still chewing on the lovely-dovey. On top of that, she didn’t like to be kept waiting by Minako for a response if they should continue playing.

“Minako”, she spoke into the microphone with a firm voice that could cut glass, as Minako kept ignoring them.

“Oh! Oh! You’re still there, like little marionettes! Lovely! Errr …” Minako stopped herself. “Whoa, that sounded like a pirate. Like the one Michiru made you into in her latest smut fic!”

Haruka looked at her best friend startled.

“You didn’t know that, buddy? Okay. She did not write herself into the governor’s daughter’s role. You definitely didn’t have sex in a dirty place. Forget about it, I never found this in Rei’s drawer.”

“Minako”, Michiru repeated, this time leaving no illusion that she wouldn’t be able to kill Minako with her violin’s bow.

Minako’s phone went off. The singer jumped to her feet: “Uuuuh, I was waiting for that call! I think we should continue tomorrow!”

*** 

Ami looked confused when she opened the door. She always looked confused when this happened, even though Michiru’s knock was always the same: determined.

“Michiru! Hi!” She blushed, painfully aware that she hadn’t changed after dinner and a spot of tomato sauce greeted from its place on her baby blue, long cardigan.

“Make some tea, would you?” Michiru smiled at the younger woman mildly and found her way into Ami’s apartment that the medical student shared with her girlfriend.

“Sure”, Ami wedged her hands nervously, “Mako is instructing her cooking class, but she has left me some scones from earlier today. They’re not much but …”

“That sounds wonderful”, Michiru had seated herself in the lounging area already, unpacking her shopper.

When Ami arrived in the living room, a tray with tea and scones in hand, Michiru already had unfolded her painting supplies.

Ami sat down next to her on the floor, trying to mimic the gracile way Michiru held her body.

“Let’s paint”, the older announced, beginning to draw a storm.

Ami, who joyfully had grasped the expensive brushes Michiru used, soon stopped in her movement, watching Michiru with worry.

It wasn’t their first painting session, but definitely Michiru’s angriest. Usually, Michiru preferred “Under the Sea”, “Into Space” or “Haruka” when she was drawing just for herself. Ami loved the harmony that then came upon Michiru, adapting to it herself. It was hard not to think about her father, but it was also hard to resent doing something she loved. Ami Mizuno was a woman of many talents. But asking about Michiru’s day wasn’t one.

*** 

Haruka hadn’t been in the mood for joining Rei to help her refurnish an old table, but then again, Michiru had insisted her to. Probably because Rei was Minako’s partner – and that was also the reason why Haruka had a hard time being around the social studies student.

“I can’t believe Minako still thinks this table is hideous! I mean, look at it, we’ve done some fine things with it!” Rei’s high ponytail swung around furiously.

“I still think that it would have been cheaper for you to buy a table at Ikea, considering the money you put into refurnishing supplies”, Haruka noted.

“Ikea”, Rei looked at Haruka in disgust. “You are definitely wrong, this was a good deal at the flea market and I’m in no position to decline it! Even though my girlfriend is going to rocket to super fame very soon. But I swear, I’ll do my best to not let capitalism win!”

Haruka cringed.

“Wait. I know that look on your face. How was your time in the recording studio anyway today?” Rei waved a brush around like she was a teacher pointing at a pupil to move in front of the whole class.

“It wasn’t good enough. We didn’t finish and will go back in again tomorrow”, Haruka let her shoulders sink. “I feel like this is all my fault.”

“And why’s that so? Did you forget how to play sheet music?”

“No. But Minako wasn’t happy. I have to admit, that was my worry from the second she asked me to do this with Michiru.”

“Tenoh, do you think it was a piece of cake for me working on the guitar parts with her? She’s a perfectionist. So are you and I. But we’re not doing this for us, we’re doing it for her, even though she’s a brat. But she deserves the world.”

“It’s just so that however good my performance is, it will be heard forever. Over and over again. I wonder how the Three Lights did it, but I guess it’s just that Seiya thinks so highly of herself she’d never have any doubts”, Haruka kicked against the refurnished table, making it almost collapse. Such a good deal.

“They were also searching for their princess, I’m just saying.”

“I know, right? Their songs were never that good?!”

*** 

“I frankly do not understand how Minako doesn’t feel any shame. Haruka is her best friend”, Michiru said like it was nothing.

“Oh”, Ami announced, remembering Minako’s request for the album support. She was glad Michiru had finally broken the silence, still working on a wild mix of greys and blacks that looked together like a hurricane on paper.

“It’s my fault. I should have insisted more on declining Minako’s offer. I could have said my manager …”

“Haruka still would have agreed to. Mina means a lot to her.”

“She doesn’t seem equally important to Minako”, if Michiru could snort, this would be her moment to.

“That’s not true”, Ami tilted her head. “Mina feels a lot of pressure.”

*** 

“Mina is under a lot of pressure”, Rei said softly. “She sees all of us settled into our lives. Makoto is so, so good at what she does and her life with Ami is like from one of these lesbian books, where the more tomboy one is a doctor! You and Michiru and Hotaru and Setsuna are so happy together and with what you get to do. Even though Hotaru would never admit to that, but she’s a teenager! And Usagi is Usagi. Mina doesn’t mean to be this tense these days, I just think she wants to make this work.”

“You forgot to mention yourself.” Haruka half-smiled, feeling a bit better about the whole situation.

“I JUST WORKED ON THE PERFECT TABLE I MEAN JUST LOOK! LOOK!”

*** 

“I’m clean and I smell like soap”, Haruka happily announced, joining her wife in the bedroom, wearing her favourite PJs.

“Love, you look like you feel so much better than you did this morning”, Michiru noted, looking up from her book, already tugged into her blanket.

“I do. Talking to Rei made me understand it’s good - not less, not more - when Mina finally says it’s good.” Haruka swiftly found herself underneath the blanket as well.

“It was always good, she just needs to focus”, Michiru replied with a soft smile.

“That’s what Ami made you realize, right?” Haruka grinned, leaning onto Michiru’s shoulder.

“She’s smart, our Ami”, Michiru giggled. “I’m glad you found your confidence again. Minako should be proud to have such a talented, good-looking pianist on her record.”

“I know, I’ve always known.” Haruka leaned forward to wink, but then led her pretending go. “It’s just that I feel so uncomfortable playing with the headphones on. I feel like everything will be constantly judged and I’m not used to this.”

“Minako didn’t really judge and that’s the problem. But no worries”, now it was Michiru’s turn to wink, “I have a plan …”

Then she closed the book because she needed her hands – to deeply kiss Haruka, the person she regarded as the love of her life, holding her tight.

*** 

“Obsession” was composed by a Dane, who he had been, well, obsessed with Bach. It was very loud, shrill even. While it put a smile on Michiru’s face to play such a jarring melody, it made Mina, who had just walked in, cringe. Haruka, not entirely sold on the piece, watched Michiru in awe.

As she finished, the violinist spoke right into the microphone: “Now that you remembered what I can do, I want you to see what we are both capable of doing with your song. Now that I have your attention, I suggest that we concentrate and wrap this song up smoothly. We are here to support your career, Minako, but for a first-timer in a studio it’s certainly not easy to know what’s wrong if you’re not giving us any hints. Do you agree?”

Mina had been frozen, but found to her old confident behaviour in a second: “I sure do. Because I’m certain you remember that.I.am.the.leader.”

She mimicked Michiru, ending with an emphasis on every word, who took this with no impression. “How could I forget a fact you sing to us like a hit song you’d like to have. So. May we start?”

“Let’s”, Mina sat down next to the sound guy, who had no clue what that whole leader deal was about. The blonde was ready to work – finally. She showed Michiru her thanks with the smallest smile, that Michiru took with a little nod. It was easy to get lost. But it was also easy to get out – with the help of your friends.

[wewalkadifferentpath]

Ace-friendly SH Fics: Masterlist

Alrighty folks so strap in, here is the first round of my ace-friendly Shadowhunters fic rec list! It’s so hard to have to navigate fics that should have a canon asexual character, always just vaguely expecting disappointment (cough Raphael). So. All of the fics on this list are ace-friendly in some way or another, whether it’s tagged/talked about or even intended by the author or not- they do NOT invalidate Raphael’s asexuality (using the definition of asexuality as not experiencing sexual attraction, irrespective of feelings toward sex. And while this list does have some aroace!Raphael, it is specifically for ace!Raphael)  This’ll cover everything from ace-friendly smut for my smut-inclined friends (meaning Raphael is not sex-repulsed in those, but still ace) to platonic/solo stuff for those of my friends who are less romance-inclined. I also threw in some headcannons of other SH characters. Let me know what you all think! (Things not under the “smut” category do not have any written descriptions of sex to the best of my memory and brief scan-throughs, but please let me know if there’s something in the general list that should be under smut). If you’re strongly sex-repulsed please use your usual discretion. (And everyone just please read the tags in general).   One final note: keep in mind that this is just a collection of fics that are supportive of asexuality. While these are fics I personally enjoyed/read often, this list is not an endorsement of all aspects of the content (ie. the way other identities are handled, etc.) This list is meant to account for different tastes, just with the bonus relief of knowing asexuality is there. So, here we go! 

(I’m ridiculous and can’t do regular summaries; my comments on each rec- if any- are in the brackets): 

Saphael (without direct mention of asexuality but still unequivocally respecting it):

The Heart of An Adventurer by DustinMcDreamy 

Skyrim/Dark Ages AU: Simon is a simple tavern worker, but he wants more than his boring life. An adventurer stays the night at their Inn and Simon is enamored with both the adventurer and his wonderful life. 

(so this is a lovely person who I’ve been collaborating with and they are honestly such an ally and their stories are wonderful, this one is probably my favourite but you can check out their page for other stuff)

put the boom boom into my heart by idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo

"Or maybe something like soulmates always sneeze at the same time and I cant be sure but me and this kid in my French class just sneezed at the same time are we soulmates or was it a coincidence (proceed w character trying to make themselves sneeze around said person to see what’s what)"

or, the one where simon hates his life and Mr. Immaculate Hair doesn't make it better, until he does

Forgotten at Dusk by halfmast Simon finds Raphael wandering around Manhattan barefoot - things go downhill (uphill?) from there.

(So I think this is the only one I’ve included that’s an unfinished WIP and is also NOT explicitly laid out as asexual- because I can’t guarantee it won’t change in later chapters. It also has one chapter left and hasn’t updated in a while so if that rattles you, don’t touch. But it’s beautifully written and sweet and a neat concept, and so far doesn’t contradict asexuality!)

before I ever met you by izzyasavestheday (stilessexual) “I’m missing something,” Simon went on, voice cracking. “I’m missing someone but no matter how hard I try I just can’t fucking remember.”

Can you find me someone to love? by domoiswatchingyou

They all have one thing in common: they are all bad at love, even when some of them love to deny it. (Saphael and Malec AU WIP) (And I gotta say guys, I beta for this lovely person- and thus actually have a hand in writing the ace parts- and they are a wonderful individual. Asexuality not mentioned as of yet but will be upcoming). 

baby, I’m not made of stone by izzyasavestheday (stilessexual)

“Did I ever tell you that we feel everything? The clan, I mean. If I focus enough, I can tell you who’s sad and who’s angry and who hasn’t been sleeping properly. I can tell you who’s been having nightmares. There are no secrets here.”

i'd spend all nine lives with you by alaricrodriguez

simon gets himself turned into a kitten and raphael can't find his fledgling

(this is just little and cute and there’s no explicit effort made to make Raph ace but I guess I’m kind of cheating since it’s from Simon’s POV and doesn’t come up at all but it’s not contradicted and I love this fic so)

echo series by izzyasavestheday (stilessexual) “Right,” Raphael brought himself to his feet, smooth as anything. “Let’s go.” Simon gapped up at him, “Go where?” Raphael rolled his eyes, impressively, (like he didn’t care, like he didn’t care about Simon, but he was here and they both knew neither of them could ever stop caring no matter how much they continued to hurt one another) and heaved a spectacular sigh. “Home.” -

Saphael (ft. actual conversations about asexuality/the word is spoken):

Somebody out there by mckvch (RaiseYourVoice)

(Road trip fic, which is classic of course. PLEASE read the tags. Could be interpreted as demi/gray ace but I identify as just ace and it fits me just fine. This is one of the first fics I read coming into this fandom, and the first one that made me fall in love with Saphael, and it’s got an insanely special warm fuzzy place in my heart) (Also 27 chapters, so how can you complain about that???) The acing on the cake by mckvch (RaiseYourVoice) 

““Oh, come on, puns are amazing! Tell me your sexuality and I’m sure we will have at least one shirt that’ll appeal to you.”  Simon patted the pile of shirts in front of him and smiled hopefully at Raphael who really wanted to disagree and tell the boy he was wasting his time here but he couldn’t bring himself to.” (pride!fic) (this author has some of my favourite ace!Saphael fics ever, and like an endless supply of them with everything under the ace/aro umbrella) A Lesson in Love series by Malteser24 ”Simon thinks it will be difficult to adapt to their new situation - in which they don't actually hate each other - and Raphael can't imagine their date as being anything but awkward, considering how out of his depth he is when it comes to dating.Instead, they actually have a fairly good time.” like a love song on the radio by eversall 

Simon's a bartender, Raphael plays the piano, and somehow they manage to communicate to each other that yeah, they both want this. 

Rock Solid Panda by OhHolyHell

(Made for pan pride day, “Raphael is actually a thoughtful softie” (and so is Simon!) (ft. ace puns)) Disasters that lead to pretty boys (are worth it) by gayinsight "My friend is out of town and I’m supposed to be taking care of her pet fish but it died and you work at the pet store help me find one that looks the same so she won’t notice!" (this one has a hella flirtatious Raphael making some jokes that imply sexual attraction but it doesn’t actually HAVE him experience it and it’s honestly one of the cutest, funniest little Saphael fics ever so) 

if i ever had your number, i think i would use it by eversall

“You – why is your number in the Pandemonium bathroom?”

(classic meet-ugly sorta vibe) I am a pile of bricks and you are holding a sledgehammer by LiviKate “So when do I get tucked safely back under Raphael’s wing?” “You won’t,” Lily said, wandering over to the other side of the room to get her own drink. “Raphael has a new fledgling now. You’re stuck with me.” Or, when Simon isn't the newest vamp in the clan, he has a hard time sharing.

Promised It All, But You Lied by sirknightmordred As Raphael lies in a magical coma that can't be cured, Simon thinks back to pivotal moments in their relationship. (There IS a warning for fairly descriptive sexual assault, but it’s actually surrounded by bolded words in the story so easy to skip. And it does not attribute his ace-ness to the assault, but it’s also rep for those of us who are ace AND have negative experiences with sexual violence) 

Sing me a Song by Margo_96

the one where Simon teaches Raphael's younger brother how to play the guitar and Raphael is not happy. or maybe he doesn't mind it that much (Okay so this is one that kind of equates asexual to ‘not wanting sex,’ and Raphael does have very strong infatuation so not so much representative of romantically-fuzzy people. Hooweeverr, it’s cute af, and I like Simon’s initial reaction to the coming out, and it’s 8 chapters, so worth a read for sure) until i’m not afraid by angelblooddemondust

(Trans!Simon (which I can’t speak to at all) ft ace!supportiveRaph (which I can)) (read the notes) -

Saphael (ft. smut):

Head is spinning thinking ‘bout by LiviKate 

Simon and Raphael enjoy their time together, even if Simon doesn't really know what to call it.

Or, gratuitous vampire sex with some ace-spectrum themes because there's not enough Asexual Raphael.

(This is a lot of blood drinking, which is not my fav, but it’s brilliant in terms of what a sex-positive ace might look like and how they experience sex- it’s from Raph’s POV, and it’s quite good overall imo. Probably my favourite ace!smut)

Just Pull me Closer by SomeWaywardDaughter  After spending an irritating patrol with Clary and Jace, Simon just wants to get back to Hotel DuMort and Raphael. (so I’mma be honest I was in a pretty sex-repulsed mood while doing this part so I didn’t fully reread it to be sure it’s safe but it’s literally written by a self-professed ace author and I did see reference to the aceness amidst the smut so I’m pretty sure we’re good)

What is Desired by DustinMcDreamy (I’m not going to include descriptions for smut because many of them are potentially triggering in nature for sex-repulsed friends, but this one is a dom/sub sort of thing, pretty hella kinky so buyers beware. It’s messy on the ace-front (the author started the series before Raphael came out, and had to add it retroactively) but there’s some good lines in there in particular for gray ace or demi folks who are experiencing lust for someone for the first/only time, etc.) chasing starlight by  mostlikelydefinentlymad There was no set destination, simply one agreed upon prerogative: drive. (So this isn’t technically smut insofar as there’s no actual explicit description of sex, it’s basically all blood drinking, but it’s a heavily implied metaphor and Raphael’s blood lust for Simon is very reminiscent of sexual attraction, so that part kind of doesn’t reflect how I feel as an ace person. BUT Raphael does not actually experience sexual attraction, the story is quite lovely, and the author is quite lovely as well, so I’d still recommend it)

Caught. by Kalifa (Lol this is short and not super smutty either but it’s like #sexindifferentfeels all the way)  -

Raphael and Other Characters ( back to no smut):

love comes in at the eye by prettydizzeed

The first time he asks Raphael out, Raphael scoffs.

(A Raphael/Meliorn fic- and I gotta tell you I didn’t even ship these two but the characterization is beautiful and the handling of the asexuality is a dream)

maybe we're just gonna live forever, maybe heaven's a mistake by prettydizzeed

Raphael presses the pendant into his palm and looks at Magnus. “How did you become okay with it?” Magnus gives a flourish of his hand. “After the whole ‘half demon blood, scorned by the earth as a monster’ thing, liking boys wasn't that big of a deal.” He sees Raphael's expression and adds gently, “But it's different for everyone.” Raphael looks at his hands. Lets go of the cross. “How do I become okay with it?” Incompatible by NotEvenThat

Raphael wants to know why their relationship works for Jace. As with everything, Jace struggles to talk about his feelings and why Raphael Santiago makes him feel so safe. (I can’t even get over how much I love that this fic makes asexuality seem like a bonus rather than a burden in a relationship- which shouldn’t be rare, but alas)

landscapes by brightclam

(Another Raph/Meliorn, those seem to be popular! Ft. gender nonconforming Meliorn and the tags “Asexual Raphael Santiago” “i shouldn't have to tag that but some of y'all demons ignore that” which made me laugh for like 5 minutes)

- Arospec!Raphael/Romance not Mentioned:

Make Yourself at Home by savannahrunes

Two occasions Raphael Santiago shows up at Magnus's door, each time with something quite important to say. (This is my favourite aroace Raphael fic ever and made me cry both times I read it. Also written by an ace author) (do yourself a favour and read this even if you’re not arospec- although that goes for all of them in this category) (he is legitimately 100% aro in this) 

Unnamed Soulmate AU by http://parabatri-gonebabygone.tumblr.com

(So I couldn’t trace this back to AO3 or even the author’s most recent tumblr but it’s so beautiful and I love this fic so much and the author (in my limited opinion) did an amazing job of having an aroace soulmate dynamic and gah, yes)

Four Times Raphael Santiago Was Kissed, and the One Time He Kissed First by albabutter 

His mother should have had a house full of girls. Instead she ended up with him and his brothers and a rag tag crew of every teenaged hooligan in a five mile radius running through her home. She was quick to grab an ear but quicker to give a hug, and Raphael put up with it as well as could be expected. She gave hugs to the neighborhood boys and kisses to her sons, and the only silver lining was that she didn’t wear lipstick. (honestly this is one of my favourite Raphael fics in general, and I believe the author only intended for him to be ace in this but I definitely interpret it as at least aro-spec as well if not just straight-up aroace)  When’s a monster not a monster? by scalira “He had never heard about something like this before. You either liked the opposite sex or you lived in sin as someone who liked the same sex. But he had never heard of people just not liking any sex.He decided to just let it rest for now, pushing the worry aside till he at least graduated highschool. But then there was a friend, and his name was David.” (*** Warning: there is a fairly sudden mention of oral sex near the beginning. And some descriptions of violence. But this is one of my favourite ace-fics in the way that it explains what asexual attraction feels like for me, and Raph is also  grey-homoromantic so bonus) (this author has lots of varying ace and demi/grayromantic/etc Raphael fics too to check out) Carpe Noctem by UMsArchive  For decades, it seems like unlife couldn't get any better and nothing threatens to take all of that happiness away from Simon. Aside from the passing of time that slowly takes everything away from him. Almost everything. (Listed as demiromantic, but as far as I can remember doesn’t even have kissing by the end so it should be fairly aro-friendly) 

Maybe by mckvch(RaiseYourVoice)

“ Yeah, he definitely didn’t want to kiss girls, ever, but boys...not so much, either.” (arospec Raphael with some ambiguousness about his feelings for Simon) It's Not a Date (Unless I Pay for Dinner) by  Vitamin_Me Clary cancels their date last minute, but Simon ends up having a good time despite himself. (So I don’t think this author really intended on having Raphael be aro or even ace, but while I’m not aro and can’t be sure, I think this fic should be pretty safe even for people who are mildly romance-repulsed. There’s definitely implications of feelings- especially from Simon- but really I interpret it as being this chill, mostly platonic, nice little fic that makes me feel pretty good when I’m sick of all the heavy romance stuff) 18. Play A Musical Instrument by GideonGraystairs

So this is just a tiny drabble amidst a sea of drabbles but I love it because it’s one of the only fics I’ve seen that’s literally JUST Raphael, reflecting, by himself. It doesn’t say he’s ace/aro anything, it just doesn’t have any romantic arc at all) -

ace!Alec Lightwood:

Accidental Fate by allonsyarielle 

There were two things Alec Lightwood knew about himself beyond a shadow of a doubt. The first was that he was gay. The second was that he does not like sex. Through a chance encounter with Magnus Bane, Alec learns about asexuality, and it opens his eyes to a new part of his identity. (okay so this one did sort of equate asexuality with “not wanting sex” but I still included it because I think it’s a frank take on how it can feel to realize you’re asexual, and all of the negative emotions that can come with that) Sleepovers Aren’t Just for Kids by SomeWaywardDaughter Ace!Alec discovery his sexuality (written by an ace author) -

Others SH headcannons: 

Send My Love To Your New Lover by HornedQueenOfHell 

(This one is about ace!Etta, one of Magnus’s old exes. It also does the ace=not wanting sex thing, but the author is ace-spec so it’s got some perspective for sure. And it’s written so beautifully and such a lovely concept. **Warning for ace-phobia and brief sexual harassment) (I cried the first time I read this) El Hijo De Santa Muerte by Gzmoii “He stepped aside, letting Guadalupe in. She walked in with a careful nod, looking around at Magnus’ loft. Magnus snapped his fingers behind his back, hiding the potions and other magical ingredients around the loft. Given that Guadalupe wasn’t a mundane, she wouldn’t be able to notice the subtle shift as everything around the room moved. Guadalupe’s head snapped toward him, “What was that?” She asked.” (So this actually DOES have ace!Raphael, but I’m putting it here because it also has aro!Guadalupe Santiago, which is hella rad) (22 ch and counting) 

You Aren’t Broken by allonsyarielle

(Ace!Alec but also demiromantic!Magnus)

-- -- -- Alright, that’s it for now!  Hope you all got something out of this! If you are one of the authors listed here and you want your fic/name OFF the list, please message me. If you have written an ace-friendly fic that you want included, hmu and I’ll check it out. Depending on demand, I’ll hopefully be doing updated lists every so often, as well as spin-offs (for example, I have a small but growing list of Malec fics that just so happen to have really sweet comments about asexuality, or have ace!Raphael as a minor character). If you want to request any specific type of fic, please feel free to ask me, I’ve literally got folders overflowing. Have a lovely, ace-friendly day! 

[beebomeebo]

Nerves pt. 2

Type: smut

(A/N) Hey, guys!!! I wanted to write a story that was broken up into many parts and because my best fic so far is Nerves, I thought I would continue it! I really hope you guys enjoy it!!! & a HUGE thanks to @ultimate-top-trash for giving me ideas and keeping me motivated. Sorry this is so long, I got lost in the story

Warnings: unprotected sex, hickeys, small tiny slap, annoying character, !!cute Tyler!!, a tiny bit of angst at the end, cursing, VERY LONG

Pairing: Tyler Joseph x Reader

Word count: 9.5k

PART 1

It has been about a month since Tyler and I’s first “tutor session” and we had another one planned for this weekend. Thinking about being alone with Tyler always got me excited. Not just because when we’re alone, “things” happen but because I can be myself around him. He always cracks jokes and never fails to make me laugh.

A faint buzz pulls me from my thoughts. I pull my phone out of my pocket and read the message:

Tyler :)

Hey! Wanna catch a movie after school today?

I smile at the text knowing that he actually wants to hang out with me. I quickly reply:

Yeah! I’m down!

I finish packing my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. I say goodbye to my mom and practically skip out the door to wait for my bus.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*TYLER’S POV*

It wasn’t long before Y/N replied to my text. I barely let my phone vibrate before I hurriedly yank the screen toward my face to read her reply:

Y/N :P

Yeah! I’m down!

Fuck yes! I thought. I was so excited I almost left my backpack in my room while walking out of the house. I run back inside and grab it and sprint back outside and practically throw myself in the car.

Hoping I get there before Y/N, I pull into the student parking lot and park my car. Grabbing my stuff, I quickly walk towards the piano room, a little earlier than usual.

Once there, I notice that the door is locked and the lights are off- which was unusual because Mr. Pike, the piano teacher, was usually here early in the morning. Being a teacher assistant in one of his classes, he trusted me with a key to the classroom. So, I unlocked the door and turned on the lights, taking in the wooden scented air. I glance down at my watch and realize Y/N won’t be here for another ten minutes. I decide to work on a song I had been writing for a couple days now. I soon lose myself in the chords of the piano.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*READER’S POV*

I met up with Tyler in the piano room before school like I have for the past week.

“Hey Mr. Magic-hands,” I laugh while entering the classroom. He had already set up and started playing.

“Will you quit calling me that?” Tyler asks slightly annoyed, keeping his focus on the music sheet.

I chuckle as I take my seat next to him. I notice the music sheet that was painted in messy notes and scribbles. “What you doing?” I turn my attention to him.

Frustrated, he replies, “I’m trying to write a song but I can’t get this melody down.” He plays a few notes but it quickly turns sour.

“Can I try?” I ask.

“Sure, but I doubt you’ll get-“ Before Tyler can finish his sentence I’m already testing out the melody he has written down, only changing two notes. Once done, I look to Tyler for approval. His jaw falls slightly as he stares at my fingers, puzzled.

“What? How?” He questions urgently.

“Well, instead of a G note here, I played an A note. And instead of a C note here, I played a G note,” I explain, playing the melody slower this time. “Try it.”

Tyler begins to mimic my movements and soon plays the notes beautifully. “Yes!” Tyler shouts in triumph. I laugh and applaud him.

“Maybe you should be the one teaching me,” Tyler jokes while changing the notes on his music sheet.

“Maybe I should,” I tease. “Let me hear the rest of it.”

Tyler’s tan face shifts to a red tone. “I-I don’t think that it’s done yet.”

I laugh. “I don’t give a shit. Show me what those magic hands can do!” I root Tyler on as he plays bits of the song he had written down. I noticed there were small words scribbled into the margins. Grabbing the paper I hold it up to my face to get a better look. “What’s this? Are these lyrics? Do you sing?” My excitement mixes with my words as my body perks up with energy.

Tyler immediately snatches the papers from my hand, shushing me. “Will you keep it down? I can’t even sing that well.”

I scoff. “Bullshit.” I nudge his ribs lightly. “C’mon! Sing for me Piano Man! Sing!” I tease him.

“Stop it!” Tyler laughs as he tries to avoid my nudges.

We soon start a full-on tickle war. I eventually run off and hide on the other side of the piano, keeping the instrument as a buffer zone between our bodies. Tyler chases me around the piano and into the pool of desks. Laughing I take a sharp turn down one of the aisles and Tyler begins to jump from desktop to desktop to catch up to me. Eventually, his arms wrap around my waist as he finally catches me. I lose my balance from all the laughing and crash into the floor; Tyler follows as all his weight was against me. We both start laughing uncontrollably on the floor.

“You cheated!” I blurt through laughter.

Jokingly offended Tyler retorts, “I did not!” He wraps his arms around my waist before I could get back up and make a run for it.

“Mr. Pike?” A voice from the doorway catches both of our attentions. A girl stood in the doorway and stared at us. “Is this a bad time?” The girl asks reluctantly.

“Oh, no. You’re fine,” Tyler says jumping onto his feet and helping me up before brushing himself off.

“Is Mr. Pike here?” She asks.

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Tyler answers, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh, I was going to ask him for help.” She begins walking out disappointed.

“Well, maybe I can help,” Tyler offers before she can completely disappear.

Shocked, the girl stammers, “A-Are you sure?”

“Yeah! I’d love to help,” He says as he clears off the piano. He sticks his hand out for a handshake and she takes it in hers.

“Rebecca.”

“Ty-“

She interrupts him, “I know who you are. You’re the best student in the class!” She beams a flashy smile.

I stick my hand to introduce myself but she keeps her attention focused on Tyler as she takes a seat next to him, pressing her leg against his.

“Oh, so you’re in sixth hour?”

“Yeah! I sit right behind you.” She giggles.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable in the situation I turn to Tyler and say, “I think I’m just going to head to my first period and get ahead.” I grab my backpack and make my way toward the door.

“Y/N! I’ll see you in class, right?” He shouts behind me.

“If you’re lucky,” I shout back, disappearing from their sight.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The classes before my piano class always seemed to drag out way too long. The dismissal bell finally rings and the teacher shouts something about finding the homework online. I weave my way through the sea of students while trying to make it to the piano classroom before Tyler. We had made it a race a couple weeks ago and the winner got bragging rights the entire day. I successfully sprint into the room before Tyler. I triumphantly take my seat that is only two down from his. I strike a cocky pose as I wait for Tyler to walk in. I soon see Tyler trip into the classroom. As he immediately perks up, he spots me and slouches his shoulders.

“This one doesn’t count!” Tyler pouts, sliding into his seat and trying to catch his breath. “My teacher kept me for a little.”

I roll my eyes. “All I hear are excuses.” I cockily check my nails as if I chipped them.

“Where’s your friend?” I raise an eyebrow at the empty seat behind Tyler. He turns around and shrugs.

Suddenly a squeaky voice grabs our attention. “Hi, Tyler!” Rebecca waves excitedly to Tyler. He flashes a friendly smile back.

She basically talks his ear off as her words fly out of her mouth, “Thanks so much for helping me this morning. You were so helpful. Oh, and that song you were writing sounded beautiful- I especially loved the lyrics.”

I raise an eyebrow at her words. He showed her the song?

I decide to text Tyler:

So, looks like you have an admirer lol

He looks down at his phone and rolls his eyes.

“Speaking of helping me, do you think you could come over and tutor me after school today?” She’s practically bouncing in her seat.

Tyler’s gaze moves from her to me to back to her. “I was actually going to see a movie today with Y/N.”

Rebecca doesn’t hide her disappointment at all as her body slouches back in her seat. Then her face lights up again. “Well, what about tomorrow after school?”

I look over to Tyler and we make eye contact; I can tell by the look on his face that he had no clue what to do. I turn my head and take a sip of my water, giving him a “you’re on your own” look.

“Uh, I gue-“

“Great! It’s a date!” She cuts him off.

I almost spit my water out on the kid in front of me. This catches not only the attention of the kid in front of me, but Tyler and Rebecca. I harshly swallow the rest of the water. “Sorry,” I apologize, “Wrong pipe.”

Rebecca glares at me through cold eyes and I glance over to Tyler as he’s laughing his ass off. He almost falls out of his seat at one point. I chuck a piece of paper at him to get him to stop.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*TYLER’S POV*

After sixth period, the rest of the day dragged on way too long. I couldn’t wait to hang out with Y/N. All I could do all day was dream about her Y/H/C framing her face and her full lips.

The final bell rings and my energy shoots through the roof as I throw everything into my backpack and make my way to the piano room. I shoot Y/N a text:

Hey, I’m in the piano room. :)

I begin to play games on my phone while I wait for her to arrive. Not even a minute later I see a figure walk into the room. Reaching for my stuff I ask, “You ready to go?”

“Where are we going?” I finally look up to see who the figure was.

“Rebecca?” I look at her confused. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I forgot my book in here.” She says, obviously nervous. She quickly grabs the nearest book and holds it up.

“That’s a class set.” I chuckle.

“Oh,” she says, trying to laugh it off. “Oh! I remember! I left it in my locker.”

I nod my head expecting her to leave but she just stands there.

She finally breaks the awkward silence, “Hey, do you think I could get your phone number?”

Mad at Y/N for not getting here sooner I reply, “Sure.” I spell out the digits as she punches it into her phone. “Thank you! I’ll text you later!” She giggles and finally leaves the room.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*READER’S POV*

As I approach the piano room I see Rebecca skip out of the room. She makes eye contact with me and shoots me a judgmental look. I enter the room confused. “What did you do?” I tease.

Tyler rolls his eyes as he gathers his stuff. “I gave her my phone number.”

“Dangerous,” I whisper. “You ready?”

“Very much so. Let’s get out of here,” He says offering my arm. I accept and we walk towards the student parking lot together.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

“What do you want to eat?” Tyler asks scanning the menu.

“Tyler, it’s the movies. You eat popcorn at the movies,” I retort.

He smiles at my teasing. “Yeah well, what if I’m allergic to popcorn?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“I’ve seen you scarf down a whole bag of freshly made popcorn in Mr. Pike’s class, dude. You’re not fooling anyone.”

He laughs, showing his bright teeth. “You’re right.”

“Next,” the kid behind the counter shouts as the person in front of us removes themselves from the line. Tyler gives the cashier our order and pays for it. He grabs our drinks as I grab the popcorn.

“Butter?” I ask.

“Obviously,” Tyler replies. “I’ll go find our seats.”

I pretty much drench the popcorn in butter, shaking the bag to make sure that the fatty liquid seeps all the way to the bottom. When I’m satisfied with the amount of butter I make my way to the theater.

I enter the dark room and search for Tyler. I suddenly see someone waving at me. I happily make my way up the stairs to greet the boy. I throw a few pieces of popcorn into my mouth as I sit down.

“Fatass,” Tyler jokes as he reaches for the bag.

“Lover boy,” I tease and he rolls his eyes.

As if right on cue I see an overly excited girl quickly bouncing her way towards Tyler.

“Tyler!” The girl squeals.

Tyler takes in a deep breath before plastering a fake smile on his face to greet the girl.

“Hi Rebecca,” He says unenthusiastically.

“I’ve been texting you.” She quickly sits in the chair next to Tyler.

“Oh,” Tyler says, obviously looking for an excuse. “My phone died.”

“That’s ok.” She directs her attention to the previews as Tyler and I exchange a look.

I finally speak up, “So, Rebecca, who did you come here with?”

“No one,” She replies flatly.

I sit back in my seat and realize this is going to be a long night.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

About thirty minutes into the movie, Tyler pulls that stupid fake stretch so he can put his arm around me. And it’s obvious that Rebecca doesn’t like that because she complains about being cold and asks if she could borrow Tyler’s hoodie. Tyler sighs and hands his jacket over to her. Once it’s fitted over her she tries to snuggle up against him.

“I’ll be right back.” Tyler gets up quickly.

“Where are you going?” Rebecca asks quicker.

“Bathroom.”

Fuck. Now I’m alone here with Crazy Bitch.

We both sit in silence as we watch the movie. Every once in a while, I can see her glare at me as if checking me out. I feel a buzzing in my jeans and I pull my phone out to see a text from Tyler:

Meet me.

I notice Rebecca trying to read my screen so I quickly shove my phone back in my pocket and look back at her. She whips her head back to the movie screen but I keep looking at her. She finally makes eye contact with me.

“What?” She says rudely.

“You’re crazy.” I quickly stand up and leave her alone in the theater before she could say anything else.

As I exit the movie to look for Tyler I’m pulled to the side.

“She’s fucking crazy, dude,” He whispers in a panic.

“I’m fully aware,” I respond.

“We need to do something about it. Look how many texts she’s sent me since school ended.” He flashes his notifications at me to display an abundance of texts and calls. “28 text messages.”

His phone buzzes in his hand. “29.” I laugh but Tyler shoots me an unamused look. “Let’s just leave her and go back to your place or something.”

“She had my hoodie,” Tyler mentions.

“I’ve got this.” I hand him my purse before making my way back into the theater.

I build up the courage to go up to Rebecca who has her arms crossed. “What do you want?” She spits.

“Uh, yeah, Tyler is throwing up in the bathroom and he just wants to go home so can I get his hoodie back?” I ask.

“No,” She replies flatly turning her attention back to the movie.

“Why?”

“Because you’re just trying to come in between me and Tyler.”

“Um, what?” I nearly choke on my own spit.

“Your little mind tricks won’t work on me.” She begins to stand up and walk towards me aggressively. “You can try and deceive Tyler but you can’t fool me.” I can tell she’s trying to get in my face but due to her height- or lack of- she looks up to me.

“Look, can I just have the jacket or not?” I ask, done with her bullshit.

“No, but what you can have is this.” She raises her hand and quickly brings it down on my cheek. The whole theater turns around at the loud smack.

I nod my head and laugh. “Ok.”

“Yeah, fuck you,” She threatens.

“Oh sweetie,” I laugh. “Tyler already did that.” I turn around before she could do anything else.

When I exit the theater, Tyler begins to panic.

“What the fuck happened to your face? What happened?” He reaches for my face.

“Oh, she slapped me,” I said nonchalantly. Tyler begins to panic more. “I’ll tell you about it in the car.”

We walk as fast as we can to get to Tyler’s car. Once inside and safe I tell him the whole story.

“You told her we fucked?” Tyler’s voice kicks up a few notches as he abruptly stops at a stop sign.

“Yeah,” I begin to regret my words.

Tyler pauses. “Did she at least look pissed?”

“Hella pissed.” We both laugh.

We continue to joke about Rebecca and how her and Tyler and destined to be together. After we calm down I begin to lose myself in the radio.

“You know,” Tyler speaks up, “I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend today.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Yeah but that kind of got ruined,” He laughs nervously.

“It’s ok.” I smile.

Tyler smiles back and for a moment I feel at peace. Until a vibration from Tyler’s phone breaks the feeling. I pick up the device. “Rebecca’s calling,” I point out.

“Let it go to voicemail.”

I obey and let the call expire before reading the endless amount of texts that she sent him.

“’She slapped me’? Really? She thinks that’s going to work?” I laugh putting his phone back into the cup holder.

After a few minutes of silence, Tyler pulls into my driveway. Tired as hell, I wave goodbye and head inside, ready to sleep all this crazy drama off.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*TYLER’S POV*

Making sure Y/N got into her house before I drive off, I finally decide it’s time to block Rebecca’s number. I click open my home screen and click on her info. Before finally blocking her number. The silence afterward felt peaceful. I continue to enjoy the lack of notifications from my phone and arrive home.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*NEXT DAY*

I trudge into the piano classroom before school. “Morning, Tyler.” Mr. Pike greets me through his computer screen.

“Morning, Mr. Pike,” I reply as I take a seat and lay my head on my desk.

“Long night?”

“Too long.”

“Want to talk about it?”

I can’t help but spill all the stress that has been bubbling inside me; from wanting to wait for the perfect moment to ask Y/N out to Rebecca being insane.

“Rebecca? The one that sits behind you?” Mr. Pike questions.

“Yes, I really don’t want to have to deal with her or put Y/N through that,” I explain.

“I think it’s about time that I change the seating arrangement anyway, don’t you think?” He laughs.

“Really? That would be great. Thank you so much.” My body relaxes.

“Just don’t mention that it was for you and act surprised.” He winks.

Just then, Y/N walks in. She looks exhausted.

“You ok?” I ask as she takes the desk next to mine.

She digs her face into her arms, grunting. I playfully rub her back as she takes a nap.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*READER’S POV*

I groaned in protest at the starting bell. I glance once more at Tyler and smile. He was working on his music again. He was so cute when he was focused. I couldn’t help but watch as Tyler pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

“It’s considered rude to stare,” He finally says.

I grunt in response. “I don’t care.”

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to class.” He packs his things up and offers his hand. I take it, grabbing my own backpack and walking with laced fingers through the hall.

“So, what are you going to do about tonight?” I question as we approach my classroom.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll come over.” He winks making me chuckle. “I’ll figure something out.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head. “Don’t die,” he jokes as breaks away from me.

“No promises,” I reply as I enter my classroom.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

I was both excited and anxious as fifth hour crept to an end. Sixth hour meant I got to see Tyler, but with all the drama that Rebecca had been causing just in the last day, I was dreading being in the same room as both of them. The dismissal bell rang and I didn’t even bother trying to race Tyler. When I got into the classroom, Tyler’s seat was empty. I shrugged my shoulders, taking my seat and burying my face in my phone. I kept hearing snickers around me so I lift my head to see where they were coming from. I wasn’t surprised to see a group of girls that Rebecca, who was wearing Tyler’s hoodie that she stole, was talking to was staring right at me. I flash a sarcastic smile and turn back to my phone. When Tyler finally enters the room the peanut gallery erupts in laughter. Not noticing the swooning girls, Tyler slugs over to his desk. We exchange tired looks and turn back to our phones.

They were laughing at me, weren’t they?

The text from Tyler pops up on my screen.

Both of us, actually.

I reply. I can hear Tyler scoff.

“Alright class,” Mr. Pike booms over the class chatter. “We have new seating arrangements.”

Mr. Pike directs everyone to stand on the edges of the class. Tyler and I exchange looks and he tries to cover up his excitement with fake surprise.

“Did you ask him to do this?” I whisper as we watch Mr. Pike seat the class. He calls on three students before calling on Rebecca to sit in the desk that was right in front of his.

Tyler replies as if acting offended, “What? I had nothing to do with this.” He gives a devilish smirk and winks.

I roll my eyes at his charming smile. Mr. Pike continues to read out the seating arrangement, placing me and Tyler closer to the back; this time, our seats were directly next to each other's. I try to conceal my excitement as the class starts.

Throughout the class, Rebecca kept glaring back at me and Tyler.

“Rebecca, is there something interesting in the back of the class?” Mr. Pike interrogates, standing directly in front of her desk. Her head whips forward to look up at him.

“Uh, no Mr. Pike,” She responds.

“That’s what I thought. Now, you all know that the bi-weekly performance is this Friday. I hope you all have been practicing.” Mr. Pike explains as he takes his seat at his desk.

“Shit,” I mutter.

Tyler leans over and whispers, “I guess I’m coming over then?”

I laugh and push him back into his seat. “If you’re lucky.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*TYLER’S POV*

Near the end of eighth hour, I decide to text Y/N.

What time am I coming over? ;) :P

Almost immediately I get a response:

My house will be empty from 4 to sometime tomorrow night. So, pack an overnight bag because I haven’t practiced at all.

I smile down at the text, eager for the clock to turn to 4 o’clock already.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Once the bell rings I nearly fly out of the room, almost forgetting my work. I yank the assignment from my teacher’s hand and weave through the crowd of students, making my way to the student parking lot.

As I’m driving home I can’t help but replay our first tutor session; the way her jeans shaped her backside perfectly and how adorable she looked in her baggy sweatshirt. The way she tied her beautiful Y/H/C up in a ponytail drove me crazy. I always loved it when Y/N wore her “lazy clothes.” It was mostly on Monday’s I saw her at her most comfortable state. Other than that, she usually just wore skinny jeans, a band tee and a pair of vans or converses.

I finally pull into my driveway and turn my car off, heading into my house.

“Hi, honey! How was school?” My mom calls out from the living room.

“Boring,” I reply quickly. “Josh invited me to sleep over and catch a ride to school tomorrow,” I announce as I jog up the stairs and throw my door closed before she could say anything else. Glancing at my watch I notice that I only have about an hour to get ready. I decide to take a shower and then change my clothes.

I swiftly strip myself of my clothes and hop in the shower, turning on my music on the way in. I don’t spend long and I quickly hop out. While trying to dry myself off I frantically search for an outfit to wear. I decide to throw on a fairly nice button up and leave untucked from my black jeans. I throw a hoodie and an extra outfit into my backpack. As I slip on my shoes I glance one last time at the clock: 3:54. Perfect.

I grab my car keys and jog back down the stairs, waving my mom goodbye and heading out the door.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*READER’S POV*

I practically throw the front door off the hinges as I zoom past my parents in the living room and sprint down the hallway into my room. Different articles of clothing scattered the floor and my sheets on my bed were hanging off the edges. I devise a plan to fix all of it in the shortest amount of time. After about seven minutes of cleaning, I take a step back and scan the room one last time before deciding it was clean enough. I glance at my alarm clock and notice I have about an hour until Tyler comes over. I decide to browse Tumblr and Youtube for a little bit.

After about half an hour my mom knocks on my door telling me that they’re leaving.

“Ok, mom,” I shout through the door. “Don’t die.”

Soon after I hear her car pull out of the driveway and I’m left in my house watching cat videos.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Around 3:55 I get a text from Tyler letting me know that he’s on his way. I smile to myself and shut down my computer. I make my way into my bathroom to do one last check before Tyler arrives. Running my fingers through my hair I imagine what tonight will be like; cuddling and watching Netflix, ordering pizza and just chilling in bed. The ring of the doorbell pulls me out of my thoughts. Excitement bubbles in my stomach as I approach the front door. I take a deep breath as I reach for the doorknob. When I open the door, Tyler flashes a wide grin and I can’t help but stare at the way his eyes crinkles a bit. I notice he’s wearing one of his “nice shirts” and I notice how the sleeves are just a tiny bit too tight, showcasing his muscles a little.

“Can you let me in? It’s a little cold out here.” Tyler pulls me out of my thoughts.

“No, I’m going to make you sleep out here,” I tease standing out of the doorway so Tyler could enter.

“Where should I put my backpack?” Tyler asks scanning my house as I close the door behind him.

“You can just put it in my room,” I say as I walk towards the kitchen.

“Yes, because I have your house memorized from the many times I’ve been here before,” Tyler drowns his response in sarcasm.

I shoot him an unamused glance and hold my hand out to take his backpack; it was lighter than usual. I walk down the hall and drop the backpack just inside the doorway. I then turn back to Tyler. So, what do you want to do first?”

“Wasn’t the point of this whole thing for me to help you practice for the performance on Friday?” Tyler raises an eyebrow.

Clicking my tongue, I reply, “Yeah, I guess it was.” I turn on my heels and head back into my room.

Tyler follows, taking in the room when his eyes fall onto my keyboard. Almost as if he was in a trance, Tyler almost floats to the board; he runs his fingers across the black and white keys. “This is a nice keyboard,” He finally speaks.

“Yeah,” I breathe, “I got it for Christmas.”

Tyler sits down and begins to play a few notes. I join him and watch as his finger dance over the keys. He seems to lose himself in the music and I can’t find myself to not stare at how concentrated he is. When his song ends, he beams a proud grin.

“Ok, so practice,” He breaks the silence. “Let me see your music sheet.” I nod and stroll to my backpack and snag the paper from my folder; holding it out to Tyler, he takes the sheet and examines the notes. “Go ahead and play,” he says while placing the music on the stand.

I begin playing and finish a lot sooner than I expected. I look to Tyler for approval.

“Are you sure you haven’t practiced this before?” He quizzes me.

“Well, maybe like once but not as much as I should have,” I reply.

He narrows his eyes at me. “You played the song flawlessly.” He trails off. “That’s talent.”

“Or I just have a really good teacher,” I joke, nudging his ribs. We both share a laugh. “So, what do you want to do now since I’ve mastered the song?”

Tyler gives a devilish smirk and glances at my bed. “I know something we could do.”

I look back at my bed and get the hint. Looking back at Tyler I return the smirk.

“BLANKET FORT!” We both yell at the same time as we break into a dash towards the bed. I cut off, running toward the closet where we kept extra blankets and pillows. Tyler hobbles out of my room with arms full of sheets and pillows. He almost knocks into me on his way into the living room. I swoop up all the materials I was physically able to acquire, waddling my way towards Tyler- who was already setting up pillow walls. I toss my load on top of Tyler’s that he dropped. I take a moment to watch Tyler set up blankets on top of pillows; he strategically drapes different blankets around different angles. And for the first time in a while, I felt like a little kid again.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*TYLER’S POV*

It felt like I was a little kid again, throwing pillows across the room and building something straight from my imagination. The blanket fort ends up stretching from the TV to the couch to the dining room- which was located between the living room and the kitchen. We draped one of the blankets over the TV and made a mini couch out of pillows so we could enjoy Netflix inside the fort.

“This isn’t half bad,” Y/N exclaims, throwing the last blanket to complete the fort.

My excitement bubbles. “It’s so cool!” I dip my head under to take a view inside. Y/N joins me as we tour our temporary living space. We end up on the mini couch and browse through Netflix. We decide to watch a horror movie. About halfway through, I notice that my stomach is beginning to hurt.

“Hey,” I say turning to Y/N. “Are we going to have dinner?”

“I can order pizza,” She replies.

I nod and she pulls out her phone to call the pizza place. I pull out my phone to look up the number but Y/N puts up her hand to stop me. “No need,” She puts the phone up to her ear, “I have them on speed dial.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

About the time the movie ends, the doorbell rings. Y/N has to army crawl under the fort to reach the front door due to how low the blankets droop. She excitedly swings the front door open, nearly knocking the fort over. She quickly signs for the pizza and closes the door. Crawling back under the fort, Y/N nearly drops the box a few times. I grab the box from her as she takes her spot next to me, pressing her thigh against my leg. As soon as I open the box up Y/N is already grabbing for a slice. I give her a look.

“What?” She asks innocently, shoving the tip of the pizza in her mouth.

I can’t help but laugh at how adorable she looked. “Nothing,” I replied.

We continue the last bit of the movie and flip on Youtube. We begin to watch funny fail compilations as we finish off our pizza. After the feast, I begin to feel sleepy so I decide to stretch my arms out a little bit. As they’re coming down I “accidentally” wrap my arm around Y/N’s shoulders. She giggles but cuddles up to my body. A part pops up where the video shows a guy breaking his ankle and Y/N spins her head from it, tucking it into my chest. I laugh, tracing my thumb in circles on her arm. I pull her tight against my skin and plant a gentle kiss on the top of her hair.

“Is it gone?” Y/N reluctantly asks.

I turn my attention back to the TV. “Yeah, it’s gone.”

A relieved sigh escapes her lips as her head lifts back up. She keeps herself pressed against my body as her legs tangle with mine, placing one hand behind my back and one on my chest. She fixes her head into the crook of my neck. After a little, I notice Y/N begin to shiver slightly. I gingerly begin to rub my hand up and down her arm and with the hand that’s on my chest, she traces circles.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*READER’S POV*

My entire body shrivels at the exposed bone. I instinctively whip my head away from the gore, shoving my face against Tyler. Memories of broken bones from my childhood pop up and my heart picks up speed along with my breathing. Tyler, sensing my discomfort, traces circles on my exposed skin. My body calms, melting into the warmth he gives off. When he lays a kiss in my hair all the bad thoughts disappear. For a quick moment, my mind trails off imagining myself pressed against Tyler’s bare chest, his bronze skin under my fingertips. A sudden crack from the TV pulls me from my thoughts.

“Is it gone?” I ask, scared that the thoughts will come flooding back.

Once Tyler tells me it’s clear I pick my head back up. I cuddle up to him, making my best effort to feel as much of his soft skin on mine. Snaking my arms around his body, I loop my legs with his.

My attention can’t stay focused on the video as my eyes wander up and down Tyler’s body. I keep remembering the events that took place on our first tutoring session. Does he even like me? Was that night just a one-time thing? Well, if he doesn’t like me, why is he cuddling with me? I think to myself.

“Hey, you ok?” Tyler’s voice yanks me from my thoughts. He leans his head away so he can see my face. I quickly look up.

Shaking off my anxiety I answer, “Yeah, I’m good.” Our eyes meet and I lose myself in his chocolate brown eyes. He swats away a stray hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. His fingertips dance along my cheek bone and down my jawline, leaving a trail of warmth. I study the features of his face before Tyler wraps his hand around my ear, caressing my cheek. He gently pulls my face towards his and our lips meet in the middle, locking in a passionate embrace. His lips were just as soft as a month before. My body screams for more of his touch as I roll on top of him. Tyler’s free hand grazes down my back, lying flat on the small of it. The kiss promptly heats up, turning into a battle of sloppy and hungry dominance. Tyler’s hand laces into my hand, gripping onto the strands and pulling my head to one side; his kisses fall off my lips and trail down my cheek, over my jawline, and onto my neck. He gingerly nips at my sensitive skin. A whimper slips from between my lips as Tyler’s teeth grasp at my neck. My hands wander his chest and my fingers fidget with the buttons of his shirt. Tyler connects our lips once again as I finish unfastening his shirt. I hungrily attack the boy’s neck as I shove his shirt open, exposing his chest. My hands explore the tanned skin as my teeth grab at the sensitive skin on his throat. A groan escapes Tyler and his hands wander down to the hem of my shirt. I break away from him, allowing for the fabric to be stripped from my body. Tyler’s pink lips ambush my own as he presses my chest to his. I run my hands up and down the sides of his ribs, feeling the curves of his fit body. My fingers wander down to the belt loops of his jeans as I grind my hips against his lap, creating friction between us.

Tyler smirks through the kiss and rolls over, pinning my back against the pillow couch. He sits up, his head brushing the blanket roof. The blanket becomes untucked as it falls around his face. I giggle as Tyler gives a defeated sigh. I sit up the best I can to move the fabric from his face. Once I’m able to make eye contact with him again, I give an amused smile. He mimics and presses an energetic kiss to my lips, bouncing off me and hurriedly crawls back under the fort and disappears into the hallway. I roll my eyes as I follow him. At the end of the fort, Tyler pulls me to my feet and pins me to the nearby wall. He urges my wrists to the wallpaper as he attacks my lips.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a while,” He whispers against the kiss. With his chest pressing against mine, I press my hips to his.

I whisper back, “So have I.”

His hands drift down to my butt, giving it a quick squeeze before lifting my leg around his hip. With my hands free, I wrap my arms around Tyler’s neck, pulling him closer. He takes a slight step from the wall and sweeps up the other leg, holding his free hand under my butt for support. I slightly jump to wrap my legs tightly around Tyler’s waist, keeping myself close to him. With my body in his arms, Tyler makes his way into my bedroom. He fumbles getting to my bed, nearly dropping me a few times. He attempts to throw me onto my bed but loses balance and topples on top of me. We both laugh before resuming our previous business.

“You’re so beautiful,” Tyler whispers against my lips. He then breaks away from me, standing next to the bed. He begins to unbuckle his jeans but I push his hands away, sitting at the edge of the bed. With his crotch only inches from my face, I look up at Tyler- his eyes are dark and half-lidded, and his hand pets the side of my face. I maintain eye contact as I pull his zipper down and shove his jeans off his hips. A caged erection stretches from between his legs and I palm it in my hand. Placing sweet kisses above the elastic band of his boxers, I slip my fingertips under the hem. I hold eye contact with Tyler while I pull his boxers down to his ankles. He sharply inhales through his teeth before stepping out of the clothing that was pooling around his feet and kicking it to the side. My eyes finally land on his exposed erection. It’s just as big as last time. I smile up at him and take his member into my hand, pumping it up and down his shaft. Tyler’s eyes fall closed and his head tips back as I pick up speed. I slow down and kiss the head of his erection, earning a moan from Tyler. His hand twists into my hair on the back of my head, gently urging my face closer. Obeying his wishes, I wrap my lips around his cock and slowly begin to bob my head. Tyler gives a load groan when I hollow my cheeks and shove more of him into his mouth; his grip on my hair tightens as his hip buck into my face. I pick up speed and with the length I can’t take in my mouth, I pump my hand around it, giving small twists.

“Oh, fuck,” Tyler groans. I can feel his member begin to twitch in my mouth. He quickly pulls himself out of his mouth and I look up to him, confusion flooding my face. “I don’t want to cum just yet.”

He crouches down to meet my face and connects our lips in a passionate kiss, pushing me back to the center of the bed. I take my hair out of the ponytail before resting my head on one of my pillows. Tyler’s lips trail down to my neck, sucking at my sweet spot. I groan, pressing my hips up against him, hoping he’ll get the hint. Tyler chuckles darkly, only sucking harder. The hunger grows as Tyler’s kisses wander down my collar bone and over my breasts. He reaches around to unhook my bra, pulling the straps from my shoulders and flinging the clothing across the room. Smiling darkly, Tyler takes up one breast in his hand begins kissing the other, sucks and biting at the nipple. My hands find his hair and my nails dig deep into his shoulder. Still sucking on my breast, Tyler’s hand plays with the buttons on my jeans, eventually pushing the fabric to my ankles. Tyler breaks away to see my panties. He licks his lip and pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth. He hooks his fingers around the thin part and drags the lacey fabric down my legs to expose my core. Tyler pauses for a moment, shifting himself on his knees and propping himself on his ankles to enjoy my exposure. I spread my legs a bit wider for him, showing that my body is all his. Tyler’s eyes eat up how wet my core is and he chews at his bottom lip. He smirks back at me before easing himself on his stomach and propping my leg up on his shoulder. He leaves hot, sloppy kisses on my inner thighs before hovering over my entrance. My hips roll, begging for any friction Tyler can give me. A chuckle escapes his mouth before he presses his fingers around my folds. I moan at his touch and this fuels Tyler to slowly slide one finger inside me. My moan grows louder, still hungry for more.

“You look so sexy, Y/N. I wish I could keep you like this forever.” Tyler’s hot breath washes over my core, sending shivers up my spine.

“Play your cards right and you can,” I moan back, my head buries into the pillows. Tyler presses a smirk against my folds and his tongue plays with my wetness.

My breathing hitches as I race to grab Tyler’s hair. He spends no time picking up speed and my hips roll to the rhythm of his tongue. Tyler holds on to my leg to keep me still and circles my sweet spot with his thumb. A mixture of moans and his name escapes me as a warm fuzzy feeling begins to wash over me.

“Tyler, don’t stop. I-I’m going to c-cum,” I stutter as my body begins to shake.

Tyler picks up speed, flicking his tongue across my clit. His fingers hastily pump in and out of me, curling inside to hit my g-spot. As I’m sent over my edge, Tyler moans against my lips and my hips buck against his face. I plethora of moans fill the room as Tyler lets me ride out my high.

Tyler crawls back up to meet me. He roughly kisses me and I can taste myself on his lips. I wrap my legs around his waist and flip us over so I’m straddling Tyler’s hips. I bend down to give Tyler a hungry kiss before reaching between both of our bodies and grasping his member. Looking deep into Tyler’s eyes I ease myself around his length. As I slowly slide down him, we both let out a moan. Tyler grips onto my hips as I set my hands on his chest for support. I quickly kick up the speed, letting my body bounce up and down. The faster I bounce, the more I feel Tyler fill me up and soon enough the familiar fuzzy feeling pools in my stomach. Tyler groans a mixture of expletives and my name, encouraging me. He begins to buck his hips upwards to get deeper into me and I can feel my orgasm creep closer quickly.

“You’re so big, Tyler,” I moan nearing my climax. Tyler slams me down one more time before I’m sent over my edge. My back arches and my head falls back as the cool feeling pulses through my veins, stretching from my stomach to my fingertips. Once my orgasm slows to a stop I slump over Tyler but he keeps a hold of my hips, sloppily thrusting into me.

“I’m almost there, baby girl.” Tyler’s voice echoes along with the sound of slapping skin. I slam myself back against his lap and Tyler’s breath quickly hitches as his body begins to twitch. His arms wrap around my body, pulling me close against his skin as I feel him fill me up. I grind my hips against his member, letting him ride out his orgasm. “Fuck,” He whispers in the crook of my neck.

I bury my face against his shoulder as I attempt to catch my breath. He keeps his hold around me tight as he sweetly kisses my neck. I giggle, sitting up enough to find his face. I give a wide grin.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*TYLER’S POV*

All I can think about as I stare into her Y/E/C eyes is how much I like her, how beautiful and funny she is. I loosen my hold on her so I can caress her face. Her cheeks redden and she clings onto my wrist. Our lips connect in a loving kiss before she breaks away.

“We should probably get cleaned up,” Y/N giggles.

I help her off of me and follow her into the bathroom. I lean against the sink and admire her as she starts a shower. Once she decides it’s warm enough she steps in and I join. We clean each other off and I enjoy the sight of water running down her body. I pull her into a loving embrace and she gives me a quick peck before going back to clean herself. When we both clean off, Y/N stops the shower and we hop out. I race to snatch the towel before she can. Y/N crosses her arms against her chest and pouts.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I drag my words out. “Did you want this?” I point to the towel that’s wrapped around my hips.

“Yeah. I did.” She rolls her eyes before stomping off to find another towel. I chuckle, watching her curves bounce at every step she makes. I re-enter her room and dry off my chest and hair. Searching for the remote I hear Y/N come back.

“It’s on the nightstand.” Her voice fills the room.

I turn my attention to her bedside table and grab the remote. I jump onto her bed and start to flicker through the channels.

“Uh, uh.” Y/N says from the bathroom. I look towards her to see what she’s disapproving of. She looks me up and down. “Go dry off more and get your pajamas on,” She scoffs.

I stick my tongue at her before lifting myself back onto my feet and heading for my backpack. I fish for my pajamas that I brought and quickly slip into the soft fabric. When I turn back around, Y/N is already in hers with her hair wrapped up in a towel.

“Is that my hoodie?” I ask, noticing that the hoodie looked familiar and was a little too big on her.

Y/N giggles. “Maybe.” She crawls into bed, unwrapping her hair from the towel.

“You look hot in it,” I say joining her.

She cuddles up to me and I wrap my arm around her. My heartbeat slows for the first time in a while and I feel completely happy. “Y/N, I really like you.” The words escape my lips. Y/N looks up at me, looking at me like she was trying to figure out if I meant it. After a while of searching my face, she smiles. She holds my cheek and brings her lips to mine sweetly.

“I really like you, too,” She whispers, pressing her forehead against mine. We both break into a smile and I kiss her again passionately.

“Cool.” I smile as she sets her head back on my chest.

After a few episodes of Law and Order, my eyelids become heavy and I drift to sleep.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*READER’S POV* *NEXT MORNING*

I wake up to the smell of cooking. As my eyes adjust to the light of the room I feel around for Tyler. I notice that there is an empty space where Tyler was. I groan, not wanting to get up. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed I glance over to the alarm clock. 5:44. Why is he up so early? School doesn’t start for another hour and a half.

I make my way down the hallway and through my living room- that was now clear of the fort from the previous night- and into my kitchen. I notice a figure standing at the stove with their back to me.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” The figure glances over their shoulder to smile at me.

I give a sleepy smile back. “Good morning, Tyler.” Leaning against the frame of the kitchen I admire how Tyler makes breakfast.

After a while, Tyler passes me with two plates- not before planting a kiss on my forehead- and I follow him into the dining room. I take my seat and cross my legs as Tyler places my plate in front of me. Before Tyler could even sit down, I was already attacking the food on my plate.

“Slow down, girl,” Tyler laughs.

I pause and jokingly slow down my pace a lot. Tyler rolls his eyes and strikes up a conversation. We talk about what we dreamt about last night and what classes we have today.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as I finish the last bit of eggs I had on my plate.

“Well, my legs are kind of sore,” I reply

“What? Why?” He asks, the questions drowned in concern.

I shoot him a look.

“Oh,” He clicks his fork against the plate and blushes, “last night.” He awkwardly laughs.

Once finished with my breakfast I stand up. “Well, I’m going to get dressed for today.” I peck Tyler on the lips before taking my plate into the kitchen and placing it into the sink. I then head towards my room to get ready for the school day. I throw on an old band shirt and some skinny jeans from my closet. Then I head into the bathroom to put on the minimal amount of makeup I usually put on and brush my teeth. As I apply my mascara, I hear Tyler shuffle through his bag for his clothes. I make my way back out to my room and catch Tyler in the middle of changing.

As he slips on his shirt he flashes me a smile. “You’re so cute.”

All I can do is roll my eyes. “You might want to hurry up,” I say pointing to the clock.

We both throw on our shoes and pack our stuff. I skip out the door to hop into Tyler’s car, quickly plugging the aux chord into my phone so I could play my music. As Tyler starts the car, my music begins playing through his sound system. Tyler plants a kiss on my forehead before pulling out of my driveway.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

It only takes about ten minutes before we pull into the student parking lot of our school. I keep my music blasting as Tyler parks his car. As he hops out I finally unplug my phone and shove it into my back pocket. I grab my backpack from the back seat and skip up to Tyler to lace my hand with his. We tell funny stories about our childhood all the way to Mr. Pike’s room.

Tyler unlocks the door and flicks the light on. We both throw our things next to the piano and start organizing his room for the start of the day. Once done, I notice that I didn’t pee before I left the house and my bladder was screaming at me.

“I need to go to the bathroom real quick,” I say, already making my way out of the classroom.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*TYLER’S POV*

As Y/N leaves I begin to work on the song I’ve been putting together. Not that while later I hear someone come back into the classroom. Without looking up from the piano keys I say, “Well, that was quick.”

“What?” The voice said.

Confused by the higher pitch I turn my attention to the figure. My face falls into a slight panic.

“Hi, Tyler.” The bubbly voice says.

“Uh, hi Rebecca…” I reply reluctantly.

She takes the spot on the stool next to mine, pressing her hip to mine. I try to scoot away from her but she keeps closing in on me. “I thought you were supposed to come over last night. You weren’t answering any of my texts or calls.”

Avoiding eye contact I reply, “I got grounded.”

Rebecca pauses. “Is that a hickey?” Her question snaps.

Shit. I try and cover the bruise but she shoves my hand away. “It is!” She exclaims.

I quickly get up and grab my backpack. “Look, Rebecca, you’re really creepy and I just didn’t feel comfortable being alone with you.” I tuck my head down and try and walk away but she grabs my wrist.

“Wait,” I stop at her sudden change in tone. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t know how to control myself and it was wrong to question you like that. I just think you’re a really cool guy and I really want to hang out with you.”

My heart sinks at her words. I felt like an ass. “It’s ok, we all do things we regret.” I sigh.

She looks up at me with hopeful eyes. “Really? So, we’re cool?”

“I guess.”

She immediately perks back up. “Thank you. Could I uh, have a hug?”

“Ok,” I say, opening up my arms. She tightly wraps her arms around my neck and I gently pat her back. “Ok, well I have to go see one-“ I try to say as we break away but I get cut off.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*READER’S POV*

I wash my hands and grab a paper towel to dry them. As I walk back to the piano room I can’t help but replay last night. The way Tyler looked at me and held me, it made butterflies flutter in my stomach.

“Hey, sorry, Ty. There was a fight near the bathroom.” I turn the corner into Mr. Pike’s room.

I notice that Tyler wasn’t alone. Adjusting to the sudden light difference I suddenly stop in my tracks. Expecting Tyler to be playing the piano, I instead see his arms wrapped around a girl and his lips on hers. My heart drops into my stomach as his words “I really like you” replay in my brain over and over again. My face scrunches up and my eyes begin to blur with tears.

[spookiimadison]

The Forest Fic - ChanBaek Edit

Author’s Note: I’m the biggest top fan and I am in love with this story, but I also love ChanBaek. I m in no way claiming this story as my own, I literally just changed “Tyler and Josh” to “Baekhyun and Chanyeol” (and a few other things lol). Enjoy!!! 

Ship: Chanyeol and Baekhyun 

Word count: 9,049 

Warnings: Mental Instability, Past Patient Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Sex, Suicide 

Original (Joshler): http://archiveofourown.org/works/1822504?view_adult=true

"The rain," Baekhyun says.

 Chanyeol nods, slowly.

 "It's like..." Baekhyn pauses, searching for the word.

 "Crisper," Chayeol says.

 "Exactly," Baekhyun says, nodding.

 "Almost like..." Chanyeol frowns, "red? Maybe?"

 "Mostly," Baekhyun says. "With a hint of orange."

 "Orange, right." Chanyeol points at Baekhyun. "That's right. I keep forgetting that one."

 "A lot of things are orange, though," Baekhyun says, frowning.

 "Not where I'm from," Chanyeol says darkly. "Everything's just blue-black there."

 Baekhyun winces. "I can't even imagine that."

 "Don't," Chanyeol says firmly. He shakes his head. "Don't even try."

 Baekhyun shudders a little. "Believe me, I don't want to."

 Chanyeol nods. "Good." He sits up straighter suddenly, cocking his head.

 "My mom coming?" Baekhyun asks. Chanyeol nods, standing up.

 "Keep it short, yeah?" Chanyeol asks as he closes the closet door.

 "Okay," Baekhyun replies to the now-empty room.

 There's a soft tap on the door before his mom pokes her head in.

 "What are you doing, Baekhyun?" Baekhyun's mom asks, looking in.

 "Talking to Chanyeol," Baekhyun tells her. He immediately regrets saying anything.

 "Baekhyun," his mom says, sighing. "Chanyeol isn't real, remember? We've been over this before."

 "Right, Mom," Baekhyun says, nodding. "I'm sorry."

 "Baekhyun, I..." His mom pauses, looking unsure. "Don't apologize, okay? It's just that Chanyeol doesn't exist."

 "Okay," Baekhyun tells her, waiting for her to leave so Chanyeol can come back.

 His mom looks at him, something yellow-blue-red in her eyes. He forgets what other people call it. Chanyeol would know.

 "Baekhyun, you have an appointment tomorrow, remember?" Baekhyun's mom says. "With Dr. Park."

 Dr. Park has lots of markers, a checkerboard, and a liberal use of a drawer full of candy so Baekhyun won't tell anyone about the one time everything tasted like metal and soap and magenta dipped in candle wax.

 "Okay," Baekhyun says, nodding.

 His mom bites her lip. "All right, Baekhyun," she says. "Remember to eat, okay?"

 "Okay," Baekhyun echoes, and she closes the door.

 Chanyeol immediately opens the closet door.

 "Dr. Park," he says with a tone of distaste.

 "Why don't you like him?" Baekhyun asks as he watches Chanyeol settle himself on Baekhyun's bookshelf.

 "He sounds so..." Chanyeol bites his lip, searching for the words. "I would say purple-green, but I'm missing something, aren't I?"

 "Pink," Baekhyun says immediately.

 "Right, right," Chanyeol says. He makes a face. "I don't like it when you go there."

 "Would you rather I go back to Dr. Kim?" Baekhyun offers.

 Chanyeol recoils the best he can while perched precariously on a bookshelf.

 "No!" Chanyeol exclaims. "No, no, never!"

 "I was kidding," Baekhyun says as he sprawls back onto his bed.

 "Some joke," Chanyeol mutters, sounding irritated. "Don't kid about that, okay?"

 "Okay," Baekhyun says, suddenly reminded by his conversations with his mother. The sound of butter being spread on toast, bland, and purple-red acceptance.

 "No, really," Chanyeol says, hopping off the bookshelf so he can grab Baekhyun's hand. "Don't joke about that. That was... bad."

 "It was," Baekhyun allows, and Chanyeol presses his lips to Baekhyun's hand.

 "Please don't joke about that, Baekhyun," Chanyeol murmurs.

 And Baekhyun is so charmed by the way Chanyeol's mouth forms his name that he agrees automatically.

 Baekhyun can tell Dr. Park has had a long day.

 "Everything all right with your wife, Doctor?" Baekhyun asks politely.

 "Peachy," Dr. Park huffs, flopping down onto his chair. "Chocolate or lollipop?"

 "Lollipop," Baekhyun answers. He likes to suck them as obscenely as possible once in a while, just to check Dr. Park's priorities.

 The lollipop is red, tasting green-red-yellow, like cherries. Baekhyun's careful to rub it across his lips, making them as red as possible.

 "Last session we discussed books," Dr. Park says, not paying attention to Baekhyun's treatment of his lollipop. "And headaches."

 "Those two may as well be synonymous," Baekhyun says.

 "Yes, you mentioned that many times," Dr. Park says, sounding tired.

 "And the Bible-"

 "-has such small print you may as well be looking at a rainbow," the doctor finishes.

 "Although the first part-"

 "-of Genesis is almost entirely green, so you can read it," Dr. Park says. "I take very good notes, remember?"

 "I remember," Baekhyun says in the same tone he uses with his mother.

 Dr. Park, who is entirely familiar with Baekhyun's vocal tones, sighs.

 "Baekhyun, I'm sorry I'm not at the top of my game today," he says. He leans forward, and Baekhyun jerks back so quickly that the lollipop almost goes down his throat. "Sorry, sorry," Dr. Park apologizes. He takes off his glasses so he can scrub his face with his hand. "I'm so sorry, Baekhyun."

 Baekhyun doesn't say anything. He thinks that if he opens his mouth, nothing but the 'gibberish' only Chanyeol seems to understand would fall out. His heart's pounding in his chest, and he places his hand over it. Dr. Park follows his movements and winces.

 "I'm so sorry, Baekhyun," he repeats. "I didn't mean to scare you."

 "I'm okay," Baekhyun says, pleased when he hears them come out as 'normal' words.

 "You're not, Baekhyun," Dr. Park says with a sigh. "You're not okay." He shakes his head slowly, as if to clear it. "What do you want to talk about today?"

 Baekhyun shrugs. "I don't know."

 "Have you been writing?" Dr. Park asks.

 "A little," Baekhyun mutters, picking a loose thread on his jeans.

 "Have you written about anything particularly interesting?"

 "The treehouse," Baekhyun says, before wishing he didn't say anything because Dr. Park's eyes go blue-orange-green, all interested and almost hungry-looking.

 "What treehouse?" Dr. Park asks, jotting something down in his notebook.

 "We- I found a treehouse in the woods," Baekhyun murmurs, scowling down at the carpet. He feels oddly exposed now.

 "What was the treehouse like?" the doctor asks, not looking up from his notebook.

 "I dunno. Woody." Yellow-purple. The way wet chalk feels. The lowest B on his piano.

 "Do your parents know about the treehouse?" Dr. Park asks.

 "Does it matter?" Baekhyun says, a little more defensively than he intended.

 Dr. Park blinks. "I suppose it doesn't," he says slowly. "I just wanted to know if you've been talking to them."

 "You could've just asked them that," Baekhyun points out. "You could've just asked me that."

 "You're right, Baekhyun. I'm sorry," Dr. Park says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Have you been talking to your parents?" Baekhyun snorts. "I thought so." The doctor leans forward slowly, so Baekhyun has time to prepare for his presence. "I think you should talk to them, Baekhyun. They really care about you."

 "They don't." Baekhyun knows he sounds like a child, like the smell of orange peels, but he doesn't care.

 "They do, Baekhyun. And they were so, so upset when they found out what had happened to you."

 "They never believed me."

 "Baekhyun, you weren't very easy to understand then," Dr. Park says gently. "You still aren't, honestly."

 "You seem to manage."

 "I've known you for a long time now, Baekhyun."

 "So have my parents."

 "Have they really?"

 Baekhyun is silent for a moment. "No." He pauses. "They don't know me at all."

 "Baekhyun, have you ever thought about making peace with your parents?" Dr. Park asks.

 Baekhyun scowls. "They should be the ones making peace with me."

 "They're trying, Baekhyun, really," the doctor says. "I guess you haven't noticed, but they're trying to make amends."

 "Well, they're doing a heck of a job," Baekhyun mutters.

 Dr. Park ignores that comment. "They said they've been trying to take you out more and participate in family activities."

 "I hate crowds," Baekhyun tells his doctor. "I hate board games. I hate TV."

 "They don't know what you like, Baekhyun," Dr. Park says. "But I'm sure they'll be happy to do whatever you do like with you."

 "I..." Baekhyun pauses. "There's nothing that I like to do."

 Dr. Park goes quiet for a moment. "You like Chanyeol."

 Baekhyun blinks. "What?" Dr. Park has never willingly brought up the topic of Chanyeol before.

 "I'm not saying that Chanyeol is real, Baekhyun," the doctor says quickly. "But maybe you could try telling someone in your family about him."

 "And what purpose would that serve, other then to cater my delusions?"

 "It'll help you open up," Dr. Park says, ignoring his sarcasm. "You're much easier to understand when you're talking about something you're passionate about."

 Baekhyun thinks about this. "You'll have to tell my parents that it okay for me to talk about Chanyeol."

 Dr. Park sighs. "I didn't mean for that to happen when I told them about Chanyeol, Baekhyun. I'm sorry."

 Baekhyun shrugs. "Whatever."

 Dr. Park nods slowly to himself, jotting something down in his notebook. "I'll talk to them."

 "What are you going to say about me?" Chanyeol asks as he picks at a piece of splintering wood in their treehouse.

 Baekhyun shrugs. "I dunno. There's a lot to say."

 "You could tell them how pink-red-orange I am," Chanyeol says, flashing Baekhyun one of those smiles that make Baekhyun melt. "How sexy I am, how I sound like melted marshmallows, how my lips are the key C major, how I can-"

 "Oh, shut up," Baekhyun says, pushing him playfully.

 Chanyeol laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grins. Baekhyun looks away before Chanyeol can see him staring.

 "My parents think I'm crazy," Baekhyun says suddenly.

 Chanyeol sobers immediately, frowning. "You're not crazy."

 "I know," Baekhyun says. "But telling them about you isn't going to convince them of that."

 Chanyeol is silent for a moment. "What are you going to do?"

 "Talk to them about you anyways," Baekhyun says. "Fuck what they think."

 Chanyeol grins. "You're really pink-red-orange when you swear."

 Baekhyun blushes. "No, I'm not."

 Chanyeol looks at him thoughtfully. "You're pretty pretty, Baekhyun."

 "Pretty pretty?" Baekhyun says.

 Chanyeol laughs. "Not my best word choice."

 "Why do we talk like this, anyways?" Baekhyun asks. "If we just used our words, nothing like that would happen."

 "You asked me to talk 'normally,'" Chanyeol says. "For practice."

 Baekhyun frowns. "Why did I do that?"

 Chanyeol shrugs. "Something about better communication."

 Baekhyun nods slowly. "Sounds like something I'd do. Back, y'know."

 "Well, yeah," Chanyeol says. "You were all-" he makes a few indiscernible hand motions, "blue-purple. Jumbled."

 "Mixed up," Baekhyun says, nodding.

 "Not exactly," Chanyeol says. "Sort of... I can't remember the word for it. Orange-green-purple."

 "Confused," Baekhyun translates. Chanyeol nods.

 "That's it. I keep forgetting that one," he says. "Confused. You were confused. And like the letter M. The way August smells."

 "Confused, maybe," Baekhyun allows. "I don't know about lost, though."

 "You were lost," Chanyeol says, sounding certain.

 "Maybe," Baekhyun says again. He watches Chanyeol flick the lighter he always has on and off. "Why do you even have that? You don't smoke."

 Chanyeol shrugs. "You never know when you'll have to set everything on fire."

 Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows. "What? What are you talking about?"

 Chanyeol just shrugs agains. "You'll get it some day."

  "He dyed his hair the other day," Baekhyun tells his mom.

 They're sitting on the steps outside, watching the wind blow through the trees in their backyard. It sounds like a cool pillow on Baekhyun's skin, and he smiles.

 "What color?" his mom asks.

 "Blue. Bright blue," Baekhyun says, grinning a little to himself. "It was red for a while before, actually."

 "That's neat, Baekhyun," his mom says, still looking rather uncomfortable.

 "He has these really dark brown eyes," Baekhyun says, choosing to ignore his mother's discomfort. "Coffee eyes. That kind with coffee and hot chocolate. What's that called again?"

 "Mocha," his mom supplies.

 "Mocha eyes," Baekhyun says, nodding.

 "Baekhyun," his mom says, biting her lip, "who is Chanyeol to you?"

 "What do you mean?"

 "Is he your friend?" his mom asks. "Boyfriend?"

 Baekhyun splutters a little. "What? No!"

 "It's... y'know, okay if you want a boyfriend," Baekhyun's mom says. "Just so you know."

 "Great," Baekhyun says, still wide-eyed. "What brought that on?"

 "You always have this goofy look on when you talk about him, Baekhyun," his mom tells him.

 "Yeah, but that automatically made you think I'm gay?"

 "Well," his mom shrugs, "you've never seemed very straight, Baekhyun."

 Baekhyun blinks. "Thanks, Mom."

 "It wasn't an insult!" his mom begins to protest, but pauses when she sees Baekhyun laughing.

 "I'm gay," Baekhyun assures her once he's done giggling. "I just never expected you to notice."

 "I do occasionally notice something about you, Baekhyun," his mom tells him.

 Baekhyun immediately sobers. He frowns, and his mom sighs, carefully taking his hand.

 "I'm sorry, Baekhyun," she tells him. "I know that an apology won't fix anything, that it won't change anything, but I am still so sorry."

 "Why-" Baekhyun swallows hard, "why didn't you believe me?"

 "I-" His mom sighs. "Dr. Kim seemed very professional, Baekhyun. He was supposed to be top of the line. And he was very smooth, very reassuring that there was absolutely no misconduct." She sighs again, squeezing Baekhyun's hand gently. "I regret not listening to you more than anything, Baekhyun."

 "Don't we all," Baekhyun mutters. "Don't we all."

 "How do you feel?" Chanyeol asks one day.

 "Who are you, Dr. Park?"

 Chanyeol rolls his eyes. "Come on, Baek," he says, passing him his pocket knife. "Show me. In 'normal' words."

 Baekhyun stares at the knife, warm and heavy in his palm, like silk on dewy grass.

 "Show me," Chanyeol repeats.

 Baekhyun flips out the blade, pressing it to the wooden floor of their treehouse.

 "'Normal' words," he whispers to himself, trying to recall one for how he feels.

 T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D

 "Terrified," Chanyeol reads. "Why?"

 Baekhyun shrugs, wiping the wood shavings off the knife before flicking it closed and handing it back to Chanyeol.

 "I don't know. Always am," he says.

 "Why?" Chanyeol repeats. "Of what?"

 Baekhyun shrugs again. "Of what's next, I guess," he says.

 Chanyeol frowns. "That's nothing to be scared of," he says.

 "Why am I scared, then?"

 Chanyeol smiles in that small, gentle way of his. "Orange-green-purple," he says.

 Baekhyun sighs, tracing his thumb over the carving in the wooden board.

 "I'm not," he murmurs. "Not really."

 "You are," Chanyeol says. "Like stretched orange cotton. Not knowing what's around the corner is one of the best things ever."

 "Terrifying," Baekhyun says, shaking his head.

 "Maybe a little," Chanyeol allows. "But maybe what's around the corner is the best thing you could possibly imagine."

 "What if it's not, though?"

 "What if it is?"

 "What if it isn't?"

 Chanyeol leans forward, taking Baekhyun's fingers away from the carving in the wood.

 "But what if it is?" he whispers.

 "How are things with you and your mother?" Dr. Park asks as Baekhyun slides a peanut butter cup into his pocket.

 "Fine," Baekhyun says.

 "Fine?" Dr. Park repeats, eyebrow raised.

 "Better," Baekhyun amends.

 Dr. Park nods slowly. "You talked to her about Chanyeol, then?"

 Baekhyun nods. "She didn't look too happy."

 "As expected, Baekhyun," Dr. Park says, still looking down at her notes. "It can't be comfortable for a woman to hear her seventeen-year-old son talk about his imaginary friend."

 "Who she thinks is imaginary," Baekhyun corrects before he can stop himself.

 Dr. Park pauses, finally looking up from his notes.

 "Baekhyun," he says softly, "Chanyeol is-"

 "Yes, okay, whatever," Baekhyun says quickly.

 The doctor sighs, running his hand through thinning hair absentmindedly.

 "He's not real, Baekhyun," he says softly. "I'm sorry, but he just doesn't exist."

 "Yes, fine, whatever you say."

 Dr. Park rubs his face with his hands. "Baekhyun..."

 "Look," Baekhyun says, suddenly feeling ready to fight, "I know you think I'm crazy because of this, but Chanyeol is real, okay? You're not going to convince me otherwise."

 Dr. Park chuckles dryly. "I'm seeing that, yes."

 "It's all blue-black," Chanyeol says. "My home, I mean. That's why I like it here better."

 "You've told me that," Baekhyun says. "Lots."

 "That doesn't make it any less true," Chanyeol points out.

 "I know," Baekhyun says. "I'm just saying that I hear you whenever you tell me."

 "But I don't want you to hear me," Chanyeol says insistently. "I want you to listen."

 Baekhyun frowns. "What's the difference?"

 Chanyeol makes a frustrated noise. "Some people- philosophers, mainly- say other people never hear each other," he says. "But I don't think that's true. I think everyone hears, but I don't think most people listen."

 Baekhyun's frown deepens. "I still don't get it."

 "It's like..." Chanyeol shifts, taking Baekhyun's hand. "Okay, when I say 'take my hand,' you think of holding hands, right? Not of taking my hand someplace with you. Unless we go somewhere hand-in-hand, but that's a different story." He shakes his head to clear it. "What I mean is, you hear 'take my hand' but listen to 'hold my hand.'"

 "Oh." Baekhyun pauses, thinking. "I get it." He frowns again. "I think."

 Chanyeol cracks a smile. "Well, at least you're honest."

 "Baekhyun, your psychiatrist and I want to start you on a new kind of drug," Dr. Park says as Baekhyun sits down.

 "What?" Baekhyun asks as he picks out a purple lollipop. "Don't you remember how it went last time?"

 "Not antipsychotics," Dr. Park says. "That was a mistake, I know." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "That was a mistake."

 "What kind of drug, then?" Baekhyun asks, unwrapping the lollipop and popping it in his mouth.

 "Lorazepam," Dr. Park says. He pauses. "Ativan."

 Baekhyun frowns. "Doesn't that treat anxiety?" Am I anxious? he wonders to himself.

 "It also treats insomnia," Dr. Park says. "Frankly, Baekhyun, you're starting to look like a skeleton. One in need of a good night's sleep."

 Baekhyun shrugs. "I think I'm okay."

 Dr. Park sighs. "Your mother told me she can hear you talking to yourself at three in the morning. Every single night."

 Baekhyun opens his mouth to say that it's not himself he's talking to, but decides against it.

 "I'm okay," he says instead.

 "Baekhyun, I really don't think you're getting enough sleep," Dr. Park says softly. "You look exhausted all the time."

 "I'm fine."

 "Baekhyun, this is honestly what I think is best for you," Dr. Park says gently.

 Baekhyun glares at him. "And why do you care about what's best for me?" He leans forward, undaunted. "I don't think you do," he says, placing his hand over his cheek deliberately.

 Dr. Park's expression drops. "Baekhyun," he begins, stopping. "Baekhyun, I'm so, so sorry about that."

 Baekhyun rolls his eyes, leaning back. "Whatever."

 The doctor sighs, rubbing his eyes. "There's no excuse for that," he says. "But Baekhyun, this really is for your own good.” He pulls out another piece of paper and jots something down on it. “I'm going to talk to your parents, and once I have their approval, we’re going to start you on Ativan. Okay, Baekhyun?”

 “Whatever,” Baekhyun says again.

 Dr. Park sighs, rubbing the ring on his left finger. “Okay. Now, Baekhyun, I thought-”

 "Stop that," Baekhyun says, irritated.

 Dr. Park pauses. "Stop what?"

 "Stop putting my name in every other sentence you direct to me," Baekhyun says. "I know my name now, okay?"

 "Force of habit, Baek-“ he catches himself, “force of habit,”

 Baekhyun chuckles dryly. "I hate my name," he tells his doctor.

 "And why's that?" Dr. Park asks, scratching something down on his notepad.

 "It's just a reminder."

 Dr. Park pauses. "A reminder of what?"

 "It's just another reminder that no one's actually unique," Baekhyun says. "No one's actually special."

 Dr. Park sets his notepad onto the desk, looking intrigued. "Elaborate?" he requests.

 "Certainly," Baekhyun says. "You know, there's someone out there named Byun Baekhyun. Maybe not now, but there will be. Maybe even both, depending on how long I live." He pauses, tapping his chin. "And if there really are infinite universes, there are an infinite number of Byun Baekhyuns, saying the exact same thing that I'm saying, thinking the exact same thing that I'm thinking. Yes, there are an infinite number of worlds where Byun Baekhyun is a plumber who crossdresses in his free time and has never once considered other universes, but that would mean there are also an infinite number of worlds that are an exact replica of this one. And if that's true, there's no reason for anyone to feel special." Baekhyun hums thoughtfully. "You could always argue, of course, that there may be no such thing as parallel universes, but even so, there's still going to be someone in this world with your name in your past, present, or future. And I read that everyone has a doppelgänger on this earth, although the two doppelgängers may not live at the same time." Baekhyun sighs. "What's the point in being unique?"

 Dr. Park stares at him. "...and that's why you don't like your name?"

 Baekhyun laughs a little. "A rather wordy version of why, yes."

 "It's definitely interesting," Dr. Park tells him. "I'm definitely going to think long and hard about it later."

 "Good," Baekhyun tells him honestly. "I think everyone should think about it at least once in a while. Food for thought, you know."

 "Mom?" Baekhyun asks, walking into the kitchen.

 "Baekhyun?" his mom responds, turning to him with an expression of mild surprise.

 "I have something to tell you," he says, cautiously taking her hand and leading her to sit at the kitchen table.

 "What is it?" she asks.

 "I..." am in love with the boy you think is imaginary what do I do, "...uh." Baekhyun scratches the back of his neck. "Um."

 "Yes?" his mom says.

 "What's for dinner?" comes tumbling out.

 His mother blinks in surprise. "Spaghetti and meatballs," she says. "Why? Do you want to eat with us?"

 And for some unknown reason, Baekhyun nods.

 "So, let me get this straight:" Chanyeol begins, "you tried to eat the spaghetti with a spoon, called your brother a periwinkle dust mop when he tried to give you a fork, listened to your sister talk about her basketball tournament, fell off your chair when your other brother kicked you under the table, watched your dad drink a nonalcoholic beer, listened to your mom talk about your sister's basketball tournament, and burst into tears when the brother who kicked you asked why you don't go to school."

 "That just about sums it up," Baekhyun says, nodding.

 Chanyeol raises an eyebrow at him. "And why did you even go to dinner?"

 Baekhyun blushes. "It was sort of an accident."

 Chanyeol raises the other eyebrow. "How do you accidentally wind up eating dinner with your family?"

 "I- ah..." Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair. "Well, I was going to ask my mom something, but, uh, I ended up asking her what was for dinner."

 Chanyeol's raised eyebrows lift even higher. "What were you going to ask her?"

 Baekhyun feels his face flush even darker. "Nothing," he says a little too quickly.

 Chanyeol's eyebrows rise so high that they almost disappear into his mop of deep, black hair. Before Baekhyun can stop himself, he's reaching out and pushing Chanyeol's eyebrows down himself.

 They stare at each other for a moment before they both burst out laughing.

 They end up with their foreheads pressed together and fingers intertwined, and they're both still giggling as Baekhyun looks down at Chanyeol's soft, C major lips. It would be so easy just to...

 "Baekhyun?"

 Baekhyun snaps out of it, looking back up into Chanyeol's mocha eyes. Their foreheads are still pressed together.

 "Can I, um..." Before Baekhyun can think about it, he's shifting himself oh-so-slightly for their lips to touch. It's brief, but Baekhyun can still feel those perfect, C major lips unresponsive on his when he pulls back.

 "Oh," Chanyeol says, looking startled.

 "Oh," Baekhyun echoes, standing up. "Oh, oh man, I'm so sorry, I- I'll..." He practically slides down the ladder.

 "No, wait, Baekhyun-" Chanyeol calls, but Baekhyun doesn't look back.

 "You seem gloomy today,” Baekhyun’s mom comments as Baekhyun pours milk into a bowl of cereal.

 Baekhyun shrugs. “I’m all right.”

 She frowns. “You haven’t gone outside at all today.”

 Baekhyun shrugs again. “Not in the mood.”

 “Do you mind if I join you?” his mom asks, gesturing to the seat across from Baekhyun. He shakes his head. “Thank you.”

 They sit in silence for a moment.

 “I didn’t know you like that kind of cereal,” Baekhyun’s mom comments.

 “Hmm?” Baekhyun says, looking up. “Oh, yeah, it’s Chanyeol’s...” he cuts himself off when he looks down at the floating brown and tan corn puffs, “...favorite.”

 Before he knows it, Baekhyun’s suddenly bawling into his bowl of Reese’s Puffs.

 “Baekhyun??” his mom says, sounding alarmed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 “Sorry, sorry,” Baekhyun says through a small sob. "I- I don't know, I-" Another sob cuts him off.

 "Shh," his mom says, suddenly kneeling next to his chair, hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay."

 Baekhyun wraps his arms around her, burying his head in her shoulder. He's suddenly bombarded by memories of when he used to cling to her after his unending nightmares when he was little. He stopped asking for his mom when Chanyeol came into the picture, though. He'd cling to Chanyeol instead.

 Baekhyun chuckles through a sob, wondering if he'll have to go back to hugging his mother after nightmares.

 "It's okay," Baekhyun's mom says softly, patting his back. "Sweetheart, it's all okay."

 "Mom?" he whispers into her neck.

 "Yes, Baekhyun?" she replies.

 "I'm in love with Chanyeol," he says, voice cracking on ‘love.’

 "Oh." Baekhyun's mom holds him even tighter. "Oh, Baekhyun."

 "And I know-" Baekhyun pauses to take a deep breath, "I know that you think he's not real, and everyone's so vehement about it that sometimes I think he might not be too. And where would that leave me?" He's starting to shake now. "Stuck in love with a ghost, that's what."

 "Oh, baby," his mom says softly. "I'm so sorry."

 The position they're in isn't very comfortable, and Baekhyun's mom slowly helps them both stand before guiding their way to the sofa. Baekhyun immediately curls up, burying his head back into his mother's shoulder.

 "I messed up," Baekhyun says, shuddering. "I kissed him and he didn't kiss back and I want to die, Momma, he means so much and I messed it all up."

 "Oh, honey," Baekhyun's mom says softly, running her hand through his hair.

 "I messed up," Baekhyun says again. "I messed up bad."

 "Baekhyun," his mom says carefully, "have you considered that this might be a good thing?"

 "What?" Baekhyun says, confused.

 "It's not healthy to rely on- on someone like you do," his mom says gently. "Maybe take a break from Chanyeol?"

 "A break?" Baekhyun says, so appalled that he's stopped crying.

 "A break, Baekhyun," she echoes. "Just for a little while. Take up a new hobby or something."

 "Chanyeol isn't a hobby, Mom," Baekhyun says, indignant by her implications. "He's a person. A person that I need to make amends with," he says, springing up.

 "Baekhyun, wait-"

 But Baekhyun's already dashing out the back door and running into the forest to find Chanyeol.

 Baekhyun can hear Chanyeol humming mindlessly when he approaches the treehouse. He hears the faint sound of gnats buzzing in the distance and the stream a little ways away running peacefully as he cautiously climbs up the ladder, poking his head in.

 Chanyeol is sitting there, flicking the lighter on and off as if in a trance.

 "Hey," Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol nearly drops the lighter in surprise.

 "Hi," he says, pocketing the lighter. "Come in."

 Baekhyun hesitantly clambers in. "So, I wanted to apol-"

 He's cut off when Chanyeol surges forward and presses C major lips to his.

 The kiss last longer than the last one, and this time both of them are contributing. Chanyeol's mouth is warm and sweet, and Baekhyun can feel his own heart thumping madly.

 Chanyeol's soft, blue-sky hands reach up. One cradles the back of his neck, and the other cups his jaw. Baekhyun's hands hesitantly reach up as well, grasping Chanyeol's shoulders.

 They finally pull back, and Baekhyun slowly opens his eyes to see Chanyeol's still closed, looking utterly contented.

 They just sit there for a moment, catching their breaths.

 "Why'd you run?" Chanyeol asks, breaking the silence.

 "Why didn't you kiss back?" Baekhyun answers.

 There's another moment of silence.

 "I like you," Chanyeol says suddenly. His voice sounds a little different. Like rain falling up. "I like you a lot."

 "I like you a lot too," Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol beams at him, tiger-growl teeth peaking through C major lips.

 "Good," he whispers, odic, and kisses him again.

 "Oh," Baekhyun gasps into Chanyeol's mouth, "Chanyeol."

   "Good?" Chanyeol mumbles as he twists his fingers. Baekhyun yelps.

 "Like- like-" Baekhyun throws his head back, hitting the wooden floor of the treehouse. "I can taste- ahh..."

 Chanyeol swallows his groan, pressing perfect C major lips to his. Baekhyun whimpers again, bucking his hips up.

 "Chanyeol," he gasps.

 "Baekhyun," Chanyeol says, warm and low in his throat, honey and birdsong and dark, sweet orange.

 Baekhyun's a mess of gasps and moans as Chanyeol gently moves his fingers inside him. He can taste something, like metal but not quite, and he's so so desperate for something, but he doesn't know what.

 "Please," Baekhyun whispers, not even sure of what he's pleading for. Chanyeol's fingers press up, and the not-metal taste becomes so overwhelming that a sob is startled out of him.

 "Hey," Chanyeol says, pausing. He cups Baekhyun's cheek with soft, blue-sky hands. “Are you alright?"

 "Yeah," Baekhyun says shakily. "Yeah, I'm okay."

 Chanyeol presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Tell me if it becomes too much, okay?"

 "Okay," Baekhyun murmurs. He presses himself against Chanyeol's fingers, and Chanyeol smiles, all C major-sweet. "Come on," Baekhyun says, throat suddenly dry, "you can- ah."

 Chanyeol goes back to slowly moving his fingers. Baekhyun isn't exactly sure of what he's doing, but it's good.

 He can feel something else in his veins, hot and desperate and red-black velvet. He groans, squeezing on Chanyeol's fingers.

 "So good," Baekhyun grunts. "So, so... like- ah, not metal but almost, and velvet, and- ahh..."

 "Shh," Chanyeol says softly. "I know."

 Chanyeol slowly pulls his fingers out. Baekhyun frowns at the loss.

 "What?" he starts to ask, but Chanyeol is suddenly shifting Baekhyun's hips and pressing something warm and hard against him. "Oh."

 "Okay?" Chanyeol murmurs, looking down at him with wide, mocha eyes.

 "Yes," Baekhyun says, absolutely certain. "Yes."

 Chanyeol gently pushes in, lower C major lip tucked under tiger-growl top teeth.

 Baekhyun's eyes roll back as he's slowly filled up. It burns, but it's like creamer for coffee, like red robin feathers, and it's okay.

 "Okay?" Chanyeol whispers.

 "Yeah," Baekhyun confirms, closing his eyes. The not-metal in his mouth is building up again, and he gasps as Chanyeol shifts his hips oh-so slightly. "Oh! Oh, ahh..."

 Chanyeol kisses him again, and Baekhyun kisses back as hard as he can.

 "So, so, ahh," Chanyeol moans into Baekhyun's mouth. "You're so, oh, oh..." Baekhyun kisses him, swallowing his groans.

 Chanyeol is starting to move his hips in slow, steady motions, and Baekhyun finds himself moving his own hips to meet his motions. Chanyeol is hitting something inside Baekhyun every single time, and Baekhyun can't help but whimper in a low, constant sound.

 "Tell me," Chanyeol grunts, "tell me if it's too much."

 "It is," Baekhyun murmurs back. "Keep going."

 Chanyeol laughs softly, startled, but obliges.

 Baekhyun runs his hands through Chanyeol's soft, dark hair, tugging gently. Chanyeol groans, fingers digging into Baekhyun's shoulders, and Baekhyun wraps his legs around Chanyeol's waist. His hips shift up slightly, and whimpers when Chanyeol starts to hit that place inside him even harder.

 "Come on," Chanyeol grunts into Baekhyun's ear. "Can I...?"

 Baekhyun doesn't even know what Chanyeol is asking for, but he presses his hips even closer to Chanyeol's, squeezing, and with a yelp, Chanyeol's movements stutter and still.

 "Um...are you all right?" Baekhyun asks.

 Chanyeol is panting hard as he reaches down and wraps his hand around Baekhyun's- whoa.

 "I'm great," he says as he starts to move his hand.

 "Ack," is Baekhyun's reply.

 He reaches up, wrapping his arms around Chanyeol's back, clinging desperately. The not-metal taste is more intense than ever, and he sinks his teeth into Chanyeol's collarbone with a groan.

 "Oh gosh," he gasps out. "Oh gosh."

 Baekhyun feels the velvet in his veins, tastes the not-metal in his mouth, and he can start to hear a low humming, a perfect G sharp.

 He groans, high in his throat, and Chanyeol mouths along his jawbone down to his neck.

 "Come on," Chanyeol murmurs. "You’re almost there."

 Baekhyun doesn't have any clue what Chanyeol is even talking about- where he's close to being-, but he's too jumbled up and overwhelmed to ask.

 Chanyeol twists his hand, rubbing his thumb over the top, and the not-metal in Baekhyun's mouth suddenly becomes so much, too much, and he sobs hard into Chanyeol's skin.

 "It's okay," Chanyeol whispers. "Just let go. Let go."

 Baekhyun lets go.

 He's falling, sinking, and he can feel himself shaking. The not-metal in his mouth finally comes spilling out as a moan more expressive and emotion-filled than he ever thought he could make. He splays his arms out, one hitting the wooden wall, and he feels all of his muscles clench and unclench.

 The G sharp grows louder and louder until he finally screams, groaning and whimpering. Chanyeol is murmuring soft, cloud-sweet words as Baekhyun finally quiets down.

 "Oh," Baekhyun says once he can finally speak.

 "Hi," Chanyeol says against Baekhyun's neck.

 "Hi," Baekhyun echoes, ears buzzing. "That was- that was..." For the first time ever, there's something that Baekhyun can't describe.

 "Yeah," Chanyeol says, kissing him chastely. "I know."

   "I know," Baekhyun says, and immediately wishes he could shove those words back in his mouth because Chanyeol's mocha eyes go dark.

 "What," Chanyeol says softly, C major lips pulling back to bare tiger-growl teeth, "did you say?"

 "I'm sorry, Chanyeol," Baekhyun says immediately.

 Chanyeol exhales in a way that Baekhyun can only describe as red-green-orange, like a stream over a bed of jagged crystal. Perfectly dangerous.

 "I'm sorry," Baekhyun repeats.

 "You don't-" Chanyeol takes a deep breath, "you can't understand, okay?"

 "I-"

 "You have no idea what it's like," Chanyeol growls, "to be terrified of going home! No idea what it's like to be frightened of your own parents!" He stands up, pacing the best he can in the cramped space of the treehouse. "You have no idea what it's like to have to hide whenever your dad gets too drunk and destroys whatever he comes across, and your mother is too high to care. You have no idea what it's like to use your body to protect your sisters, your little brother. You don't know the fear that runs through you when your father pulls out his belt because he's feeling pissed off and needs something to take it all out on. You have no idea what it's like to be whipped as hard as a grown man drunk on cheap liquor and anger can manage. And let me tell you something, Baekhyun." He stops pacing and turns to look Baekhyun in the eye. "It. Hurts."

 Baekhyun swallows hard. "I- I'm sorry-"

 "Sorry, sorry," Chanyeol sneers. "Everybody's fucking sorry."

 He resumes pacing. "Everything is blue-black," he repeats. He pauses, frowning. "For me," he adds, “not you.”

   "What's wrong, Baekhyun?" Baekhyun's mom asks.

 "Huh?" Baekhyun says, looking up.

 "You've just been sitting there all day," she says, sitting down next to him on the sofa. "Is there something wrong?"

 "Well," Baekhyun says. He tries to stop himself, but the words suddenly come pouring out. "Chanyeol and I had sex, okay? And ever since then he's been extra moody and I don’t know what to do. And yesterday we had a fight because I agreed with him when he said that everything is blue-black and he got mad because I don't know what it's like. And he's right, I don't know what it's like for everything to be blue-black. But he kept on yelling and yelling and Mom, he's hurt so bad at home and I want to help him but I can't and that hurts."

 "You- you had sex with Chanyeol?"

 Baekhyun looks up to see his mother's face completely white.

 "Yes," he says slowly. "That's what I said, right?"

 "Baekhyun," his mom says urgently, squeezing his hand so hard it's to the point of painful, "did it hurt?"

 Baekhyun feels his face contort into a vaguely shocked and disgusted expression. "What?"

 "When you had sex with Chanyeol, did it hurt?" his mom says. "Did he hurt you?"

 Baekhyun frowns. "Well, a little. But I didn't really notice then." He considers this thoughtfully. "It hurt to sit down the next day," he says truthfully.

 His mom looks absolutely horrified. "Oh, Baekhyun," she whispers, wrapping him into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

 "What?" Baekhyun says, confused. Why is she sorry? Wasn't the sex a good thing? It felt so good...

 "It's okay," Baekhyun's mom says, rocking him gently. "It's okay. You're safe here."

 Baekhyun sits there, utterly bewildered. Was he not supposed to have enjoyed it?

 His mom runs a hand through his hair. "You're all right. No one's going to hurt you. Not anymore."

 Baekhyun's mom hasn't let him out of her sight since he told her he had sex with Chanyeol.

 He hopes Chanyeol will understand why he hasn't been out to make amends yet.

 His mom has only left his side to call a few people and to talk to his dad.

 "I'm just going to go say hi to your siblings, okay?" his mom says, when they hear the garage door open. "I'll be right back."

 Baekhyun nods slowly.

 He can hear his mom greeting his brother and sister when there's a tap on the living room window. He looks out to see Chanyeol standing there, waving cautiously.

 Baekhyun runs to the window, opening it.

 "Hi," he says cautiously.

 "Come on," Chanyeol says, gesturing out to the woods behind them.

 Baekhyun bites his lip. "My mom'll freak out if she comes back and I'm not here," he says.

 Chanyeol sighs. "Please?" he says. "I'm sorry, Baekhyun. I didn't mean to yell. Please. I'm… I’m sorry."

 Baekhyun sighs, looking out. "Fine," he murmurs, climbing out of the window.

 "Hi," Chanyeol says softly, cautiously taking his hand. "Can we talk?"

 "Okay," Baekhyun says, and they walk, hand-in-hand, into the forest.

 "I'm sorry that I blew up at you like that," Chanyeol apologizes once they're safely hidden in the trees.

 "I'm sorry I said I understood," Baekhyun says. "I don't understand. I don't know what I was thinking."

 Chanyeol smiles, C major lips a little sad. "Everybody's fucking sorry," he whispers, and Baekhyun leans in and kisses him.

 Chanyeol's eyes are closed when he pulls back, and he looks peaceful.

 "Sing," he says, eyes still closed.

 "What?" Baekhyun asks, taken aback.

 "Sing," Chanyeol repeats.

 "What do you want me to sing?" Baekhyun says, bewildered.

 Chanyeol shrugs. "Something everyone would know."

 "Um." Baekhyun pauses. For some reason, all he can think of is "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."

 Chanyeol smiled goofily and in-love to himself, eyes still closed. “Okay.”

 “Twinkle, twinkle, little star

How I wonder what you are

Up above the world so high

Like a diamond in the sky

Twinkle, twinkle little star

How I wonder what you are

 When the blazing sun is gone

When he nothing shines upon

Then you show your little light

Twinkle, twinkle, all the night

Twinkle, twinkle, little star

How I wonder what you are”

 Chanyeol finally opens his eyes when Baekhyun finishes. "Thank you," he says.

 "Sure," Baekhyun says.

 They walk deeper into the forest, hands still clasped together.

 "Have you ever noticed," Chanyeol begins, squinting up at the darkening sky, "that when you squeeze your eyes together, everything changes?"

 "Yeah," Baekhyun says. "Not dramatically, though. Just enough to be unnerving."

 "Yeah." Chanyeol snaps his fingers. "Like that- that guy. With the covered faces. Red-August-L name."

 "Um," Baekhyun says, thinking. "Uh, René Magritte?"

 "Yel- yes, him," Chanyeol says. "Everything's not quite what it should be."

 Baekhyun nods slowly, squinting around the forest. Everything has a slightly eerie gloom to it, slightly off. He shivers, looking back at Chanyeol, who- who isn't who he's supposed to look like.

 "You're not quite what you should be," Baekhyun says without thinking.

 Chanyeol stiffens, and Baekhyun thinks he's going to yell again, but Chanyeol just squeezes Baekhyun's hand.

 "That's okay," he whispers, "as long as you remember me."

 Baekhyun squeezes back.

 They walk in thick silence, all green-orange. Baekhyun can sort of taste it.

 "What if this isn't real?" Baekhyun says suddenly.

 Chanyeol frowns. "In what way?"

 "In the way it's all in my mind," Baekhyun clarifies. Chanyeol cocks his head.

 "Well, of course it's all in your mind," he says, and Baekhyun blinks.

 "What?"

 "This is all in your mind," Chanyeol says, gesturing. "But that doesn't mean it's not real."

 Baekhyun sighs. "Yes, but what if all this-" he gestures around, "is only in my mind?"

 Chanyeol shrugs. "Then it would still be real, wouldn't it? If you can see it, if you can feel it, why wouldn't it be real?"

 "I- I don't know," Baekhyun says, frowning. "Maybe because it isn't real for anyone else."

 "So?"

 "So, maybe you're not real."

 Chanyeol freezes, looking at Baekhyun. "What?"

 "Maybe you're not real," Baekhyun repeats.

 Chanyeol is shaking his head. "No, don't say that."

 "Everyone tells me you aren't," Baekhyun says. "My therapists, my psychologist, my parents-"

 "Don't listen to them," Chanyeol says firmly, staring into Baekhyun's eyes. "Don't listen. You can see me, right? Hear me?" He squeezes Baekhyun's hand. "Feel me?"

 "Hallucination?" Baekhyun offers.

 "One that kisses you?" Chanyeol retorts.

 Baekhyun shakes Chanyeol's hand off in favor of burying his head in his hands.

 "Baekhyun, I'm real," Chanyeol snaps. "Do you hear me?"

 "Let me think!" Baekhyun yells back.

 "I told you to remember me!" Chanyeol is upset now. "Did you think that up yourself? Am I really just your imagination?"

 "Shut up!" Baekhyun screams, hands over his ears. "Shut up shut up shut up!"

 "Listen to me!"

 "You're not real!"

 "Yes I am!"

 "You're not real!"

 "I am! Baekhyun, listen-"

 "Not real, not real, not real-"

 And then Chanyeol backhands him across the face.

 They both freeze.

 "Did- did you just-"

 "Baekhyun," Chanyeol gasps out. His voice is crunchy and scared. "Baekhyun, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

 "Get away from me."

 "Baekhyun, I-"

 "Leave me alone!" Baekhyun screams. "Get away from me!"

 "Baekhyun, please, I'm sorry!"

 "Stay away!" he shrieks, running towards his home.

 "Baekhyun!"

 Baekhyun screams, tears running down his cheeks. He runs into the light of his house, bangs on the door, and his brother opens it.

 "Baekhyun! Mom's been so-"

 Baekhyun runs past him, sobbing as he dashes into his room. He collapses on his bed, not even bothering to lock the door.

 He burrows under the blankets, curls up, and falls asleep.

 Baekhyun wakes up to his mother lying on his bed next to him, rubbing his back.

 "Hey," she says softly as he sits up, rubbing his eyes.

 "Hi," he says, feeling hollow.

 "Want to talk about it?" his mom asks gently.

 Baekhyun starts to shake his head, but says, "Chanyeol hit me."

 His mom's eyes widen. "He what?"

 "It was my fault," Baekhyun says, running his fingers through his hair. "I kept screaming that he's not real, he's not real, and he was crying but I didn't stop and finally he just hit me."

 His mom stares at him, looking horrified.

 "He hit you…" she says slowly.

 Baekhyun rubs his eyes, nodding. He's suddenly wrapped into a fierce hug.

 "Mom?" he says uncertainly as he feels her shake as though she's crying.

 "Baekhyun," she says softly. "Oh, Baekhyun. I'm so sorry."

 "Why... why are you...?" Baekhyun begins but doesn't finish, hesitantly patting his mother's back.

 "My baby boy," she whispers, hugging him to the point that it's hard for him to breathe.

 "Mom?"

 Baekhyun looks up to see his youngest brother peeking into the room.

 "Um, I don't mean to bother you, but Dad's on the phone," the brother says, holding out the phone.

 Reluctantly, Baekhyun's mom releases Baekhyun and grabs the phone. Looking much relieved, his brother leaves immediately.

 "Honey?" his mom says, holding the phone to her ear. She listens for a moment. "No, he just woke up." She pauses again. "Yes, I did- no, I'll tell you later." Another pause. "Yeah, he is. See you soon." She hangs up, setting the phone on Baekhyun's dresser.

 Baekhyun's mom sits back down next to him on the bed.

 "Are you hungry?" she asks.

 Baekhyun shakes his head. "What time is it?"

 His mom checks her watch. "3:50," she says.

 "In the afternoon, or-"

 "In the morning," she says.

 Baekhyun frowns. "What's Dad doing out? What's my brother doing up?"

 "Your dad went out to go pick up a few things," his mom says. "And all of your siblings haven't been able to sleep."

 "That's my fault, I'm sure," Baekhyun says, sounding perfectly apathetic.

 His mom squeezes his hand. "It's my fault, if anything," she admits. "I've been a bit of a mess."

 "Oh," Baekhyun says, unsure of what else to say.

 "We're going to see Dr. Park later, okay?" she says.

 "Why?"

 "We all need to talk together," she tells him.

 "About what?'

 She shrugs. "Everything that's been happening."

 Baekhyun sighs. "The sex," he says, and his mom flinches.

 "Yes, Baekhyun," she says. "That's part of it."

 Baekhyun nods slowly, lying back down. He buries his head in his pillow and pretends Chanyeol never hit him.

   "I don't get why we're making such a big deal out of this," Baekhyun says.

 "Why do you think we shouldn't be?" Dr. Park says.

 Baekhyun shrugs. "It's just sex," he says. "plenty of kids do it."

 "Most kids do it because they like it," Baekhyun's mom says gently.

 "But I liked it, Mom," Baekhyun says, frowning. "I like it."

 His mom stares. "You- you liked it?"

 "Yes," he says. "Why? Should I not have?"

 "Well, no, I- I mean..."

 "What?!" Baekhyun demands.

 "We didn't think you would ever be able to enjoy sex," Dr. Park interjects. "Not after what happened with Dr. Kim."

 Baekhyun freezes.

 "But Dr. Kim," he pauses, swallowing, "he just- he just hit me. Right?"

 "Oh, god," his mom says, burying her head in her hands. "Oh, Baekhyun."

 "Momma?" Baekhyun says softly, suddenly so so scared.

 His mom just shakes her head, burying her face in Baekhyun's father's shoulder.

 "Dad?" Baekhyun asks softly, and his father swallows hard, intertwining his fingers with his wife's.

 "Baekhyun, Dr. Kim-" he pauses, taking a deep breath, "Dr. Kim..." He shakes his head, looking to Dr. Park.

 "Baekhyun," Dr. Park says, his normally calm expression looking troubled, "Dr. Kim would hit you, yes. But, ah..." He runs a hand through his thinning hair. "He would, well, hurt you. Sexually."

 Baekhyun sits back.

 "He'd- he'd rape me," he says dully.

 "Molest you, yes," Dr. Park says softly, eyes full of rooster-crow sadness.

 "I remember now. I… How come I didn't remember? How could I…" Baekhyun asks.

 "That was a severe amount of trauma for a child that young, Baekhyun," Dr. Park says. "It's not surprising that you repressed those memories."

 "But no one ever told me?" Baekhyun questions, standing up and wiping the tears from his face away swiftly.

 "We saw no need to upset you," Dr. Park explains. "It would've only hurt you."

 "We're so sorry, Baekhyun," his mom interject tearfully. "So sorry."

 "Sorry, sorry," Baekhyun mumbles to himself. "Everybody's fucking sorry."

 "And this is where Chanyeol comes in," Dr. Park says. "You started talking about him not too long after Dr. Kim became your therapist."

 "So?" Baekhyun asks.

 "Baekhyun," Dr. Park says softly, "Chanyeol is a coping mechanism. He's not real."

 "No," Baekhyun tries to say, but things are starting to click into place. "Oh. Oh, no."

 "I'm sorry," Dr. Park says, looking genuinely apologetic.

 "But... but we..." Kissed. Touched. Made love. It was real.

 Was it?

 Baekhyun buries his head in his hands. No one else has ever seen Chanyeol. No one else can prove he exists.

 Hell, Baekhyun doesn't even know Chanyeol's last name.

 Oh, god.

   "Baekhyun," his mom says, "do you want anything? Do you need anything?"

 Baekhyun's shaking his head slowly, digging ragged nails into his knees.

 "No, no," he says, squeezing his eyes shut. "No."

 "Baekhyun," somebody says. He doesn't know who, because everything is starting to blur in his ears.

 "The food is poisoned," he whispers before everything goes dark.

 Baekhyun wakes up in his bedroom, his mom asleep on the chair next to his bed and holding his hand in an nearly painful grasp.

 He looks out the window, at the sinking sun, and squints his eyes.

 "Remember me," he whispers. A tear quietly slips down his cheek- the check Chanyeol once held in his strong, fragile, blue-green hands.

 His mom stirs next to him, her eyes fluttering open.

 "Hey, baby," she murmurs.

 "Hi," he says, still looking out the window.

 "How do you feel?" his mom asks.

 "Tired," he says. "Could I, ah, maybe get some water?"

 "Of course," she says. "I'll be right back. Don't move, okay?"

 "Okay," he says, still looking out at the sun.

 "Hey. Look at me."

 Baekhyun reluctantly looks away, looks at his mom.

 "Don't go anywhere," she orders.

 "Okay," he repeats, and she gives him a hug before leaving.

 As soon as she closes the door, Baekhyun's throwing open his window and clambering out the way Chanyeol used to all the time. He races out into the woods, skin suddenly too tight for his body.

 Dirty. Dirty dirty dirty. The kind of dirty that Baekhyun can feel in his soul, the one place where he can't scrub viciously with soap.

 His feet are wet with blue-black water, and he looks up to see everything turning blue-black now. He wants to shout for Chanyeol, to tell him that he gets it now, he understands, but Chanyeol is gone and he's never coming back and Baekhyun thinks his lungs are going to burst.

 "I'm sorry!" he screams. "I get it now! I promise!"

 But everything's becoming bluer and everything's becoming blacker and Baekhyun can feel the cold in his bones. It's seeping in through his eyes, and he closes them as tightly as he can but it still leaks through. He's shivering, he's shaking, and he's so, so dirty.

 Baekhyun slowly becomes aware that he's pleading for Chanyeol to come back, come back to him, but Chanyeol is never coming back because he isn't real, and Baekhyun is a crazy fucking idiot left with only his crazy fucking mind and he's so so so dirty, he's filthy, and he's never going to be loved by anybody and he finally understand the phrase ignorance is bliss and he cannot breathe and he cannot stop running away from nothing.

 "Please!" he shrieks, harsh and guttural, like the word's being torn away from his throat. "Oh, please!"

 The word echoes around the forest, bouncing from tree to tree, and Baekhyun can feel the word sink through him, coating his bones, making them vibrate "pleasepleaseplease."

 "Where are you?!" he screams. "I need you! I fucking need you, oh please!"

 His hands are on his head, pulling his hair, clawing his skin. His nails are tearing though the soft skin of his cheeks, ripping, and he thinks that the pain is the most real thing he's ever felt. He claws desperately at his face, his neck, his arms. It hurts, it fucking hurts, and he's sobbing but he's laughing because isn't this just the best thing ever?

 "I'm real!" Baekhyun screams. He points towards the sky accusingly. "I'm fucking real! Why aren't you?!" He collapses onto the cold, cold ground. "Why aren't you real?!" he shrieks. "Why- aren't- you- real?!" he demands, slamming his head against the ground with every word.

 He feels the skin of his forehead scratch and pop more and more with every blow to the ground. He’s screaming so much that he’s dry heaving and trying to taste all of the stickysweetChayeol’sfavoritecereal again. His brain and whole body is thriving and crashing around and he rips at the dirt beneath him.

 Baekhyun goes still suddenly when he realizes that he's sprawled out in front of the treehouse. Their treehouse. He closes his eyes and lets the memories play before them. Kissing, touching, whispering lullabies that were never real.

 It was never real.

 He was kissing himself, touching himself, whispering to himself.

 With a struggling  groan of agony, Baekhyun pushes himself up off the ground, stumbling up the ladder into the treehouse.

 It's dark. Quiet. The air is heavy and thick. Baekhyun doesn't speak. He sits and watches tears drip onto the T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D that's carved into the wooden floor.

 Chanyeol's lighter is lying by Baekhyun's shoe. He slowly picks it up, flicks it on. The flame glows in the darkness. Baekhyun watches himself touch the flame to the wall.

 He holds it there, watching the wood grow darker as it chars. For a while nothing else happens, but Baekhyun suddenly sees the wood ignite. He flicks the lighter off and watches, completely transfixed, as the flame grows larger and larger, climbing up to the ceiling.

 Baekhyun lies on his back and watches as fire slowly engulfs the roof. The treehouse is starting to fill with smoke.

 Something inside him is pulling, insisting that he has to get out, get out before he suffocates or burns. He ignores it. He doesn't care anymore.

 Baekhyun shifts to his side and falls sound asleep as everything around him burns.

 He doesn't care.

 "How do you feel?"

 T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D

 The funeral is a small, quiet ceremony.

 The mother is crying softly, the father is purposefully silent, and the siblings are warily grieving the brother they never really knew.

 The doctor is there too, rubbing the tan line on his left ring finger and breathing in, breathing out.

 The priest conducting the ceremony asks if anyone would like to say a few words.

 A boy with deep, black hair and mocha eyes (and C major lips and blue-sky hands and tiger-growl teeth) stands up.

[midoriyasbones]

1-155

what have i done...

1: Full name

not comfortable giving online... so you’re getting Juiliet Capulet

2: Age

16

3: 3 Fears

the dark

abandonment/being forgotten

bees

4: 3 things I love

writing

voltron

all star cheerleading

5: 4 turns on

humor

good communicator

patience

a working knowledge of psychology

6: 4 turns off

selfish/manipulative

communism

unsanitary bathrooms

the triggered meme.

7: My best friend

irl: @theoceansaresoup and @thecoastisclare

online: @momiswearimnotgalra

8: Sexual orientation

//sweats// pansexual...?

9: My best first date

i dont think i’ve ever had one really...

10: How tall am I

5 foot 5!

11: What do I miss

emotional stability.

12: What time were I born

7:30 in the morning

13: Favourite color

yellow!

14: Do I have a crush

yEs

15: Favourite quote

‘A girl is a gun’

16: Favourite place

anywhere thats not home

17: Favourite food

CHICKEN SOFT TACOS WITH CHEESE AND SOUR CREAM

18: Do I use sarcasm

too much tbh

19: What am I listening to right now

C418

20: First thing I notice in new person

intelligence

21: Shoe size

women’s 5

22: Eye color

brown

23: Hair color

brown

24: Favourite style of clothing

uh... sweatpants??

25: Ever done a prank call?

nope

27: Meaning behind my URL

i just really fuckign love tacos man

28: Favourite movie

Singing in the Rain

29: Favourite song

Smoke Filled Room - Mako

30: Favourite band

C418

31: How I feel right now

p good

32: Someone I love

@medlie

33: My current relationship status

single

34: My relationship with my parents

s t r a i n e d

35: Favourite holiday

Cheerleading Worlds Weekend

36: Tattoos and piercing i have

my ears are pierced??? does that count...

37: Tattoos and piercing i want

‘vaccinate your fucking kids’ on my forehead tbh (jk)

i actually want a little star on my wrist... for FotS... (only bes

38: The reason I joined Tumblr

dunno

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

my last ex is @momiswearimnotgalra and no we definitely do not

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

never.

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

nope

42: When did I last hold hands?

8th grade i think?????

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

mom thinks 3 hours but tbh its like 15 minutes

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

i haven’t shaved them since june of 2016 *laughing*

45: Where am I right now?

office

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

the coroner bc if i drank i’d DIE

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

BOTH

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

yes

49: Am I excited for anything?

graduating

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

not really

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

all the time

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?

/??????

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

never been kissed ://

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

myself ://

55: What is something I disliked about today?

cant name it.

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

JEREMY SHADA

57: What do I think about most?

my writing

58: What’s my strangest talent?

ive never lost a game of rummikube

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

bees.

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

both.

61: What was the last lie I told?

‘yeah im ok’

62: Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

both??? //sweats//

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

i dunno man

64: Do I believe in magic?

i dunno man

65: Do I believe in luck?

i dunno man

66: What's the weather like right now?

cold, but a nice night

67: What was the last book I've read?

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

noooo

69: Do I have any nicknames?

jules, jui,

70: What was the worst injury I've ever had?

a dog once nearly scratched my eye out

71: Do I spend money or save it?

save

72: Can I touch my nose with a tounge?

no

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feets from me?

a pink index card

74: Favourite animal?

cant choose!!

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

writing. i shit you not.

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

what the fuck kind of question is this

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

World Cup Shooting Stars Cheer Mix 2014-2015 :’)

78: How can you win my heart?

never leave

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

‘well that was anti-climatic’

80: What is my favorite word?

drowsy!

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

@thebootydiaries

@elentori-art

@theoceansaresoup

@momiswearimnotgalra

@thecoastisclare

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

‘vaccinate your fucking kids’

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

nope

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

the power to know what to say

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

‘Are you manipulative?’

86: What is my current desktop picture?

Voltron.

87: Had sex?

too personal and too hard to define

88: Bought condoms?

nope

89: Gotten pregnant?

nope im gay

90: Failed a class?

no

91: Kissed a boy?

no

92: Kissed a girl?

no

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

no

94: Had job?

minecraft??

95: Left the house without my wallet?

every damn day

96: Bullied someone on the internet?

 NO

97: Had sex in public?

no

98: Played on a sports team?

unfortunately

99: Smoked weed?

no

100: Did drugs?

no

101: Smoked cigarettes?

no

102: Drank alcohol?

whats an alcohol

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

no

104: Been overweight?

no

105: Been underweight?

yes

106: Been to a wedding?

yes

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

longer

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

no

109: Been outside my home country?

no

110: Gotten my heart broken?

yes

111: Been to a professional sports game?

yes

112: Broken a bone?

not sure

113: Cut myself?

yes

114: Been to prom?

yes

115: Been in airplane?

yes

116: Fly by helicopter?

no

117: What concerts have I been to?

INDIANA SYMPHONY LMAO

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

yes

119: Learned another language?

yes

120: Wore make up?

yes

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

too personal and too hard to define

122: Had oral sex?

no

123: Dyed my hair?

no

124: Voted in a presidential election?

no

125: Rode in an ambulance?

no

126: Had a surgery?

yes

127: Met someone famous?

no??

128: Stalked someone on a social network?

no

129: Peed outside?

yes

130: Been fishing?

yes

131: Helped with charity?

yes

132: Been rejected by a crush?

yes :’)

133: Broken a mirror?

no

134: What do I want for birthday?

Tarte Make Believe In Yourself Palette

135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

no idea to both

136: Was I named after anyone?

no

137: Do I like my handwriting?

ehhhhh

138: What was my favourite toy as a child?

LITTLEST PET SHOP

139: Favourite Tv Show?

Voltron

140: Where do I want to live when older?

california???? maybe... definitely nyc tho

141: Play any musical instrument?

3, clarinet, piano, and trumpet

142: One of my scars, how did I get it?

slipped and fell and slammed my shin into a picnic table

143: Favourite pizza topping?

nothing.

144: Am I afraid of the dark?

yes

145: Am I afraid of heights?

no

146: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

yes

147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

yes

148: What I'm really bad at

judging emotions

149: What my greatest achievements are

getting fan art made of my fan fics

150: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me

‘You use your intelligence to put others down’ or something along those lines. i know im smart, but i dont use it to make others feel stupid. i do however correct people when they’re wrong. im sorry if you cant bother to look things up after you see them once (1 time) on tumblr like okay.

151: What I'd do if I won in a lottery

cry then buy my school a fine arts center

152: What do I like about myself

good writer!

153: My closest Tumblr friend

@cherishtheadolesence

154: Something I fantasize about

acceptance

155: Any question you'd like?

what’s my iq? 156 last i checked