#next year below the half-way mark. but i might get one before the semester starts again in august

[quitedisastrous]

didn't find a good spiked choker at the mall yesterday :( i'll probably order one online though

[nsheetee]

109 Steps To You

this is a part of the “almost” collaboration hosted by @hyucksie​

Pairing: Haechan x Reader Genre: romance, fluff, angst, mature content, soulmate!AU, college!AU Length: 19k Summary: Everyone is born with two marks on their body: one that is identical to your soulmate’s, and one that is identical to the person who will cause you immense pain. No one knows which mark means what until they live out their life and meet the people destined to bring them love and hurt. However, you were only born with one mark. Out of all the places you thought you would meet the person with the mark identical to yours, you never thought it would be on your first day of college. Warnings/Details: female reader, mentions of other nct members (and yuqi from g-idle), explicit sex (unprotected + the consequences that come with it), mentions of a dysfunctional family, swearing

— read epilogue here

a/n: if you’re a minor: beware! there is explicit and mature content in this fic.

“I want to thank you guys, again, for helping me out today.” You shyly announce to the table, swirling your spoon through your froyo and glancing back and forth between the other people sitting before you.

“Oh, it’s no problem, we weren’t doing anything today anyway.” Xiaojun softly knocks his elbow into yours, sending a reassuring smile your way. If it wasn’t for Xiaojun, an old childhood friend, you weren’t sure how moving into your dorm room and getting settled into campus would’ve gone; you would probably still be a mess right now.

“He’s right. Plus, I really wanted to meet the girl Jun kept raving about, he wouldn’t stop talking about how much we would like you-” Mark’s comment is quickly cut off, a thud under the table and a pained look on Mark’s face giving away that Xiaojun just kicked him.

“I just hope I lived up to the hype.” You laugh at their antics.

“Oh, definitely,” Yuqi quickly buts in before Mark can retaliate back at Xiaojun, “And I live a few floors below you, so just let me know if you need anything at all.” She adds on, her warm deposition and all around friendliness from today making you let out a small sigh of relief, some stress falling off your shoulders when you realize just how many people around you are here to help you out.

“I appreciate it so much, really.” You lean away from Xiaojun and Mark, closer to Yuqi and Lucas who are sitting on the other side of the table, “By the way, I love your guys’ marks. They look so good on both of you.”

At your comment, Lucas puts down his phone and gently grabs Yuqi’s hand, their matching chamomile flower marks touching as their fingers intertwine. You almost didn’t notice their matching marks earlier today when they were helping you set up your dorm room, but when you did, you couldn’t help but stop what you were doing and stare at their hands. Such a simple mark has never looked so pretty to you, maybe it’s because Lucas and Yuqi made such a good pair that their fated marks looked so right for them.

“I still wish I got a cool dragon mark down my back, but I’ll let Jun be the one to deal with that in this life.” Lucas smirks at Xiaojun, who just rolls his eyes at Lucas’ fake jealousy. “Yours looks good, too.” He finishes and glances down at your left hand. There, a dragonfly mark stains your skin, the long tail trailing over your thumb and the wings spreading out over the back of your hand and your wrist.

“Thank you.” Your reply is genuine, however you can’t help but remember the solemn fact that surrounds your mark, your voice inadvertently dipping down as your eyes trace over the wings of your dragonfly.

“So, what kind of classes are you taking this semester?” Xiaojun changes the subject, no doubt hearing the lament in your voice.

“Oh, just some required classes. Nothing for my major, really, except Intro to Ethics for my humanities credit.” You reply as casually as you can to bring the mood at the table back up, but your comment makes Yuqi gasp and all four pairs of eyes at the table turn to you. You slouch in your seat at their sudden attention on you.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Do you know your advisor's email? Let’s send them a message right now to get you out-”

“Stop.” You shake your head, laughing a bit at the overreaction from your new friends, “What’s wrong with Ethics?”

“It’s in the Hauss building.” Xiaojun says as if you should already know what that means. You roll your lips in and shake your head; you do not know what that means at all.

“It’s the building all the way on top of the big hill on the west side of campus, by the auditorium.” Xiaojun explains more.

“They only teach three classes over there: Ethics and Music Theory 3 and 4.” Mark sets down his melted froyo, not realizing he has some sticking to his upper lip.

“I’m failing to see what’s so horrible about that?”

“When Xiaojun says it’s a big hill, he means it’s a really big hill-”

“Didn’t someone count the steps once and it came out to be, like, close to 100?” Lucas asks, one hand still tangled with Yuqi’s and the other now rapidly slurping his triple chocolate froyo.

“That was me, and it’s 109 steps.” Mark shutters, “I took Music Theory 3 last year and I ended up skipping half of the time because I couldn’t find the energy to climb up and down those steps three times a week.”

“Why 109? Aren’t groups of steps usually in even numbers? That’s not very architecturally smart.” Yuqi purses her lips and her eyebrows screw together.

“Screw architecture. Are you telling me I’ll have to climb up and down 109 stairs three times a week just to go to Ethics?” You can already feel a headache growing at the back of your head when you think about the complications of dealing with this big staircase. You needed that class for your major, and you thought it was going to be a class that you could pass with flying colors, but it seems like it might just be a nuisance to you more than an easy A.

“Talk to your advisor. Try to drop out and take a different class. Trust me, 109 steps don’t seem like much until you actually have to climb them.” Mark gives you his piece of advice, sticking his spoon filled with froyo into his mouth and then immediately scrunching his eyes and mumbling about brain freeze.

You’ll have to send an e-mail to your advisor real quick, but for your first day of classes tomorrow, you’ll just have to deal with those 109 steps.

The walk to your ethics class the next morning is very calming, the university’s nice landscaping and the warm weather calming your nerves down for your first day of classes. When you round the corner of the stonewall you had been following, you’re met with the infamous set of steps.

You have to crane your neck to look up at the top of the staircase, your jaw slightly dropping at how steep of a hill the stairs were built on. There are other students around you walking up and down the staircase, their headphones shoved in their ears and their heads down as they make the climb to and from class.

The stonewall you had been following all the way here continues up the staircase on your right and on the left is a thick wall of trees, their branches hanging over the stairs and giving protection from the sunlight to the students below. You begin to count every step on your way up; four regular steps, the fifth one a bit longer than the rest, and then repeat. It’s not that you don’t trust Mark’s words when he said there’s 109 steps, you just want to count for yourself.

You hear some rowdy boys coming down the stairs, but the noise is not enough to pull your head up from the ground or to stop you from counting, until you’re forcefully pushed into the stone wall on your right. Breathing in through your teeth sharply, your left hand clutches your collarbones where the pain is the worst.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to push you.” The guy laughs through his words, a high-pitched and almost squeaky laugh, making him sound not as sincere as he probably meant to be. When you turn to face him, the first thing you notice are his eyes. Chocolate colored and almond shaped, some laugh lines showing from the remnants of his shenanigans with his friends.

Looking back, you realize you fell in love with his eyes first. How they don’t hold back from showing any emotion, and the mischievousness they hold no matter what.

Even when his smile falls, his face looks pretty; long hair hanging down over his forehead and ears, and plump lips spreading into an ‘o’ shape as he looks at your dragonfly. Every line and detail is just the same as his own, as if fate spent a little more time with you two to make sure you know you’re each other’s soulmate the moment you meet.

“Your mark…” The man points at your hand, and that’s when you realize who you’ve just met. His brilliant eyes fill with excitement and he starts to breath harder, taking a step back from sheer surprise that you’re here. His soulmate. His one and only for the rest of this life.

However it all fades away the moment you drop your hand from your collarbones, stepping past him to continue up the staircase.

“Next time, watch where you’re going.” The first words you ever say to him are filled with so much indifference that Haechan can only follow your back with his eyes, his jaw slack and his hand still reaching out for you.

“Hey, wait-” Haechan is about to run after you, but he’s held back by Renjun, his best friend and the one who pushed Haechan into you in the first place.

“Was that-” Renjun begins, holding onto his friend’s elbow as he also watches you walk up the rest of the 109 steps.

“Yeah… Why did she ignore me like that? She saw that I have the same mark. We’re soulmates!” Haechan almost cries out in confusion, his heart and mind in a mess. Can you blame him? He’s been waiting to meet his soulmate since he knew what the dragonfly on his hand meant. Haechan has never been a patient person, and even waiting several years for you to come to him was testing him. Now that you’re here, he isn’t going to let you go easily.

As Haechan begins to walk back up the staircase to follow you, not caring about his Literature class in 15 minutes, Renjun’s grip on him tightens and pulls him back.

“You can’t just go harass her about this.”

“I’m not going to harass her. I just want to talk.” Haechan tries to pull out of Renjun’s grip again, but the little man has the sturdiness of a boulder and pulls his friend back.

“Maybe she doesn’t want a soulmate?” Renjun and Haechan stop their tug of war at Jaemin’s words. He had been leaning against the handrail by the trees the whole time while watching the scene unfold in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest and his baseball cap covering his eyes. “It’s not that uncommon these days.”

Haechan and Renjun let go of each other at their friend’s words. Jaemin sends them a bitter smile and all three of them recall the incident that happened last year when Jaemin met his own soulmate:

A rejection.

Jaemin took it hard; if it hadn’t been for his best friends, he doesn’t know where he would be in life right now. Jaemin can’t help but let the memories surface as he continues to walk down the stairs, slower than before, his head bowed and his hands shoved into his pant pockets. Renjun sends Haechan a look that tells him to not push the situation further, following Jaemin down the stairs.

Haechan sends your retreating figure one last look, watching you reach the top of the staircase and walk into the Hauss building. He retreats and follows his friends dejectedly, the promise of you showing up on this staircase at the same time on Wednesday being the only thing that lets his legs follow his friends down the stairs.

“Hey, ___, come in.” Mark smiles brightly when he recognizes you at the door, stepping aside to let you into the dorm room. “Xiaojun is in the shower still… Will you be okay by yourself if I leave?” He looks unsure as you set your backpack down on Xiaojun’s desk chair.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. You do whatever you need to.” You state and then plop down onto your friend’s bed. You hear Mark laugh and say something about how all the first years look tired at the end of their first day and then leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. You lay sprawled out on the bed, the only sounds surrounding you is the water from the shower and the ticking of the analog clock on the wall.

Even though the whole ordeal happened several hours ago, you haven’t been able to get the moment you met your soulmate out of your mind. It was almost impossible for you to turn around and walk away. Even now, your feet still itch to go back to that staircase and find the sweet looking guy who you no doubt left confused.

However, you can’t do that— you won’t let yourself do that. And that’s partially why you’re in Xiaojun’s dorm room after your last class today: so that he can knock some sense into you.

The shower turns off and a few moments later, the bathroom door opens and Xiaojun steps out. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and a smaller one on his shoulders to catch the droplets from his hair; when he sees you laying on his bed, he jumps in fright.

“Good, God,” He sighs and clutches his bare chest with one hand, the other protectively going to the towel around his waist. “Can you say something the next time you come over? I almost had a heart attack because of you.” He walks over to his closet on the other side of the room, rummaging through some clothes as you sit up.

“Sorry, I thought you heard the door open…” You trail off, getting distracted by Xiaojun’s mark. The dragon on his back is huge, taking up most of the area and spreading to his shoulders and upper arms, too. However, that’s not the mark that caught your attention. Right on his ankle sits a three-leaf clover, so small and such a stark difference from the monster drawn on his back.

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when Xiaojun turns around and walks back into the bathroom, this time leaving the door open, “So, how was your first day?”

“Oh, well, it was okay…” You trail off, speaking a bit louder so that he could hear you from the other room. You stand up and start pacing in the space between Mark’s and Xiaojun’s beds, a nervous habit of yours.

“But? I know there’s a ‘but’ somewhere.” Xiaojun replies.

“Well, something happened…” You trail off, not sure how to make the words leave your mouth yet.

“What is it?” You swallow at the question, your throat dry and hands clammy. You must’ve been taking a long time to answer because Xiaojun walks out of the bathroom, now fully clothed, and stares at your pacing form. “What’s wrong, ___.”

“I met him.” You say simply, hoping Xiaojun gets what you mean, but he doesn’t. You sigh and sink down to the floor slowly, catching yourself on Xiaojun’s bed. The action makes his eyes widen in fear and he crosses the room in a few short strides, kneeling down next to you and searching your eyes for the answer.

“What? What is it?”

“The person with the same mark as me. I met him.”

“... Oh.”

Xiaojun slowly slides down onto his butt in front of you, folding his legs. He’s not sure what to say, or how to comfort you in anyway. He didn’t expect to be the only person around that you trust when something like this happens. He sees the lost look in your eyes and slides towards you to pull you into a hug.

Unlike Xiaojun, and most people in the world, you do not have two marks.

Xiaojun’s dragon and clover match with two different people in this world; one who will be his soulmate and the other who will bring him immense pain. Everyone has two marks— except you; it even states it on your birth certificate, your parents can testify that they’ve never seen a second mark on you, just the lonely dragonfly that spreads its wings over your left hand.

When you were younger, you were curious about what it meant to only have one mark. The people around you always had two marks, the people on the TV shows you liked to watch always had two marks, even anatomy books have depictions of humans with two marks. Why were you different? What did it mean?

After gathering up the guts to type the question into the Google search engine, you found your answers, and it changed your thoughts on your one and only mark forever. The people in the world who only had one mark testified to the same story online: the person who’s mark matched theirs were both their soulmate and the person who hurt them the most.

After learning about that, you promised yourself that if you ever met the person with the same mark as you, you would not meddle with them in any way if they were only destined to bring you pain in the end.

If you knew jumping off a bridge would definitely kill you, you wouldn’t jump, right?

Xiaojun is the only person, other than your parents, who knows about the situation. Which is why when he hugs you, you lean into him and accept his comfort.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about. You must have so many questions.” He mumbles into your hair.

“Not questions. I’m just curious about what I am to him.” You reply, whispering into Xiaojun’s shoulder.

“About what you are to him?”

“I know he’ll be the person I’m meant to love the most, and also the person who will hurt me the most. But am I the one that’s supposed to love him or the one that’s supposed to hurt him?”

“Lots of people say that they can feel it when they meet. Like Lucas, he said he instantly knew Yuqi was supposed to be his soulmate.” Xiaojun thinks back to all the people who have told him the exact same thing, even his parents.

“The guy… he kept calling me his soulmate. He sounded so sure about it, too.” You lean away from Xiaojun to look into his big and curious eyes.

“What about you? What did you feel?” He asks.

“It felt… like I left a part of myself with him.” Xiaojun’s eyes widened at that, “Is that crazy? I was only around him for a minute, maybe less, and I can’t stop thinking about how I never wanted to leave. It was so hard to walk away from him..” You trail off, feeling tears suddenly gather at the edges of your eyes.

“Xiaojun…” The edge in your voice makes him grab a hold on your hands, “I don’t want him to hurt me. I’m not ready for it.”

“Hey, hey…” Xiaojun squeezes your hands before gently guiding your face to his, meeting his eyes with your own, “He’ll hurt you eventually, yeah, but he’ll also be the person who is supposed to love you unconditionally. The person who is going to know you so well, better than yourself. Maybe you should see where he takes you in life? Destiny still wanted you to meet each other no matter what the end game is going to be… Are you really going to tell fate to fuck off?”

“Can’t I?” Your response makes Xiaojun laugh, which he apologises for laughing in a serious situation right after, but the mood is already broken and you laugh at yourself a bit as well.

“C’mon, let’s order something to eat and get your mind off of this, even if it’s just for a few hours.” Xiaojun pulls you off of the floor and reaches for his phone, trying to find the phone number to his favorite delivery place.

You sit on his bed once again, your hands limp in your lap and so much appreciation for Xiaojun in your chest. You probably would’ve gone insane if he wasn’t here for you. His suggestion on giving the guy you met today a chance plays like a record in your head, but the record scratches when you remember the promise you made to yourself a long time ago.

Don’t mess with him. He will only bring you pain in the end.

On Wednesday, Haechan is the first one out of his seat in his Music Theory 3 class, not even waiting for the slow Renjun and even slower Jaemin before sprinting out of the classroom and outside, waiting at the top of the staircase for your figure to appear at the bottom.

Students float up and down the stairs, but he doesn’t see you anywhere amongst them. Eventually, Renjun and Jaemin catch up to him, standing behind him and also staring down the long staircase.

“C’mon, Haechan, we need to go to our next class.” Renjun is the first one to step down, followed by Jaemin. Haechan takes a good look at everyone’s faces on his way down, getting some weird looks sent his way for staring, but he doesn’t care.

“Haechan.” Jaemin suddenly calls out, making his friend turn suddenly to look at him. Jaemin only nods his head to the bottom of the stairs where you just turned the corner. Despite his hurry from before, Haechan stops at the sight of you. His usual confidence is lost when he sees you climb the stairs. Now, he’s not sure if he should approach you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Renjun nudges Haechan, but the younger only turns around to look at his friend.

“I don’t know what to say to her. What do I say to make her see I’m her soulmate?” Haechan asks, helplessness seeping into his words.

Renjun rolls his eyes; whenever his best friend needs to be the usual confident man he is, that’s when the confidence is most likely to drain out of him. Renjun shakes Haechan’s shoulders with a tight grip on his jacket, making some more people send the two of them some weird looks.

“She’s your soulmate, right? Fate already gave you everything you need to know about how to talk to her.” Renjun then pushes his friend towards your direction, “But for the love of god, don’t harass her.” Renjun ends with a pointed look and continues walking with Jaemin down the stairs.

Haechan slowly makes his way to you, crossing over to the middle of the staircase and stopping you in your tracks. You look up to inspect who it is that just stopped in front of you, and your surprise fades when you realize it’s the same guy from Monday.

“Hi.” He says simply. You only nod your head, lips pursed, and then move around him to continue walking to class.

“Wait…” Haechan calls after you, but you don’t stop this time. So Haechan keeps walking after you, only one step behind, “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you’re my soulmate. I’ve been waiting for you for so long—” You sharply turn to face him, making Haechan cut off and tilt his head up to look at you.

“How do you know I’m your soulmate? What if I’m not?” You ask. Haechan shakes his head softly at that, his golden hair moving over his sun-kissed skin as he does.

“That’s not possible.”

“How do you know?” You ask. Haechan loves how curiosity burns in your eyes. He takes longer than normal to speak only so that he can look over your features and memorize them to the best of his ability. Last night, he tried to recall your face but the image came out so blurry since he only saw you for a moment on Monday. He wants to clearly remember what you look like.

“How about I take you somewhere, and then I’ll tell you?” The proposition stuns you, and your burning curiosity makes you want to say yes. However, going anywhere with him would be breaking your promise to yourself, so you decide to forget it.

“Nevermind…” You mumble, turning around to walk up the stairs again.

“You seem like you really want to know how I’m sure we’re soulmates… Aren’t you curious?” Haechan asks, making you stop in your tracks again. This man has only known you for a day, only talked to you for a few moments, yet he already knows how to get you to do something. “I promise I won’t hurt you, and I’m not lying either.”

You take a moment to think about the proposition. You’re really curious about how he’s so sure that you’re soulmates. Sure, you know you’re soulmates, but why is he so sure you aren’t the person who’s supposed to hurt him? You consider taking up the offer, but can you stay strong to your own promise while being close to him?

Curiosity wins, and you turn back around to face him, nodding and making him smile widely. There’s that crinkle in his eyes again, that sparkle against the sun that makes saying yes to him so much more worth it.

“My friends call me Haechan, but you can call me Donghyuck. That’s my real name.” He sticks out his hand for you to shake. You once heard that physical touch brings soulmates together quicker; you’re not sure if that’s true, but you don’t want to test it.

“I’m ___.” You nod at him and grip onto your backpack straps instead of accepting his handshake.

“Haechan, hurry up or we’ll be late!” You both hear Renjun shout out from the bottom of the stairs, “And on our second day, too.” You hear him groan.

“Okay, ___, I’ll see you here at 7pm tomorrow night.” Haechan turns around to run back to his friends, sending you one last wave goodbye and almost tripping down the stairs as he does.

You take a deep breath and turn around to walk up the rest of the steps. You’re unsure if you did the right thing by agreeing to see him tomorrow night, but the deed is now done, and you can only wait for Donghyuck to quench your curiosity.

As promised, you meet Donghyuck at 7 o’clock sharp the next day. He’s already waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs.

“So, where are you taking me?” You ask after saying your hello’s.

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles and nods his head to make you follow him. He leads you through parts of campus you haven’t seen yet, the buildings looking older and older the further down the path you walk. Soon, Donghyuck takes a sharp turn into what looks like the middle of the forest but is really just a small, hidden extension of the trail.

Under a canopy of tall trees that wave with the wind to you and Donghyuck, there is a skinny trail that leads to glimmering water. It draws you in, your curiosity struck and your feet now moving on their own accord. Bushes tickle your ankles and the smell of some sort of flower you cannot identify floods your senses, but you can only keep walking towards the sparkling water.

The scene in front of you takes your breath away, a crisp gasp that you have no control over leaves your lips. The pond before you is big, stretching further than what you can see. The water is blue and the setting sun’s light reflects off of it to create rippling sparkles. There are some lily pads floating around, their flowers gone due to the temperature dropping recently.

You didn’t even notice that you stopped walking, your eyes wide as you take in the scenery before you. You almost forget who you’re with and why you came, but Donghyuck doesn’t let that happen. You snap out of it when he continues to walk along the trail that leads around the pond. You walk alongside Donghyuck, a few feet away with your hands awkwardly tucked into your pockets.

“C’mon, let’s sit.” He motions to a weeping willow tree. It’s tall and the branches sway pleasantly in the wind, completely unaware and indifferent to the years of history in the area. Underneath the tree is a sturdy bench, you sit on the left side while Donghyuck sits on the right side. Then, you both take a few moments to stare at the mesmerizing water that led you all the way to this seemingly magical place.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask after a bit.

“Do you not like it?” Donghyuck asks back.

“No.” You quickly reply, looking over his side profile before turning back to the water, “I’m just curious.”

“Something in me knew you would like this place, that’s all.” Donghyuck replies while trying to hide his proud smile, looking down at the grass. “You’re curious about a lot of things, huh?”

“Yeah, I can’t help it. There’s just so much I want to know.” It’s easy to talk to him, a bit too easy. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’re supposed to have your guard up in front of him, but it’s proving harder than you thought it would be.

“Like how I’m sure that you’re my soulmate and not the person who is supposed to hurt me?” Donghyuck leans his weight away from you, his eyebrow cocked in a question. You nod your head lightly, playing with your hands on your lap.

“It’s because I’ve already met the person who’s supposed to bring me pain. I’ve already been hurt.” At his words, surprise fills you up and you turn your head to look him straight in the eye.

For some reason, you always thought that when people meet the person who brings them the largest amount of pain to their life, they couldn’t be the same ever again. How does one get hurt so badly, and still live on?

There are so many ways to hurt someone. Some people become bankrupt, some people lose all of their belongings, some people are even physically hurt by the person who has the same mark as them. How does a person go through any of that and still be themselves afterwards? More importantly, how did Donghyuck go through immense pain and still be able to smile at you like he is right here, right now?

“Here.” He begins to explain, pushing his pants around until you can see his second mark through one of the holes in his jeans, a sunflower on his knee, “My dad had the same mark as me.”

“Your…. Dad?” You ask, still confused.

“Mhmm,” He nods, now tracing the petals of the sunflower mark absentmindedly, “My parents immediately knew something was wrong when I was born. Why would a son and dad have the same mark? When I was growing up, he worked a lot, so I spent lots of time with my mom and grew closer to her. I don’t remember much from that time, but I do remember we were happy. We didn’t have a lot, but we had each other; that kind of feeling.” He looks over at you to see if you’re keeping up with the story. To Donghyuck’s surprise, you already have tears lining your eyes.

“Then one day, Dad comes home and tells us he lost his job. I remember my parents fought a lot the few weeks after that happened, mostly about how to raise me if they had no income. Dad would go out and look for work, but always came back with no luck. So eventually, my mom started working. For a while, the reason we could keep living was because of her.” Donghyuck swallows and pauses for a moment before continuing.

“And then one night, dad came home and told us he gambled. Everything, he gambled everything away. Even the little that we had, it wasn’t ours anymore. That night, my dad told me I was a mistake. My parents never meant to have me, and he said…” Donghyuck purses his lips for a moment. It had been a while since he thought about this. The scar on his heart still hurts when he picks at it. “... He said that he wished I had never been born. Then, we wouldn’t have been in that mess.”

“How old were you?” You speak up after a moment.

“Seven? Or eight.” He nods and sniffs his nose, looking down at his knee. The whole day, Donghyuck was preparing himself to tell you this story. He felt that the only way to get close to you was to open up like this first, to show you that he isn’t someone scary or bad. To Donghyuck’s surprise, telling this story hurts less now than it did earlier in this life. Maybe that means time is working, and his heart is being mended bit by bit.

Donghyuck leans his elbows against his knees, looking at the water once again while waiting for you to say anything. Are you still curious? What do you think of him now?

He was in no way prepared to feel your arms wrap around his waist in a hug, your head resting against his shoulder and your chest pressed against his side. He freezes for a moment, and then melts into your embrace completely. He’s overcome with lovesick softness for you, lightly griping the part of your arm that’s across his chest as his head turns to the side to press a kiss to the top of your head. It’s so quick that you don’t even have time to move away or to react. You just let it happen, as it’s supposed to be.

“You said that something in you knew I would like this place,” You mumble against him. He hears your voice straining with emotion, “Well, something in me knows that you need this right now.”

You and Donghyuck sit there until the sparkling water is no longer fueled by the sun’s light, but by the moon’s. It seems as though now you’ve touched Donghyuck, you never wanted to stop. You’re almost one hundred percent sure that it’s because of the soulmate bond, and a part of you nags at yourself for already chipping away at the promise you made to yourself when you were younger.

However, younger you never knew what it would be like to have a person sit in front of you and share a part of his past with you in an act of confidence and security. Your younger self never knew what it would be like to feel the same pain as someone else, and the pull you felt to touch him after sensing that physical affection would help ease that pain away.

Your younger self had no idea it was this easy to fall into a person, especially when you know they’ll catch you.

“God, I’m so sick and tired of Accounting. ___, I’m quitting school.” Xiaojun gravely tells you, his eyes not wavering from his computer screen.

“Shut up and do your homework, Jun.” You mumble, your eyes not leaving your own computer screen as you type up your Ethics essay. Three weeks into school and you’re already fully emerged in your classes. The newness of college has faded and now it’s time to start the next four years of studying endlessly for the future.

“Are you guys… okay? You haven’t moved over there in a few hours.” Mark asks from the other side of the room where he’s doing his own homework. He eyes you and your best friend from where you’re sitting on his bed, “Are you even comfortable?”

You and Xiaojun are sharing a blanket, he’s leaning against his headboard and you’re leaning against the wall. Your legs are thrown over his and several textbooks are scattered over the blanket. You’re not even sure which of these books are yours or his, or which papers laying in messy stacks belong to who.

“Yeah, I think we’re okay. We’ve been studying like this since high school.” Xiaojun answers, his fingers moving along his keyboard at the same time. You nod at Mark and he shakes his head, not understanding you two but accepting the answer.

You’re over at the guys’ dorm room enough that Mark is not surprised to see you here anymore, hanging out with Xiaojun or waiting for him to come back from class. It’s not that you don’t like your own dorm room, but it’s always so quiet in there since your roommate always studies at the library. You only hear her come into the room late at night when you’re on the verge of sleep, and when she leaves early in the morning before your alarm rings. Weekends are the same. You don’t really care, but you’ve started to hate the quiet, so you’re glad that Mark and Xiaojun don’t mind you chilling here.

“Argh,” Mark yawns and stretches after a few minutes, throwing his computer to the side and standing up, “I’m getting some snacks from the vending machine. You guys want anything?”

After you and Xiaojun answer with simultaneous shakes of your heads, which creeps Mark out, he leaves the room to get food. The room is silent for a few more moments until Xiaojun angles the lid of his laptop down to look at you.

“So… How’s the guy?”

“What guy?” You ask, still preoccupied with your essay.

“Your soulmate, ___, what other guy is there?” Xiaojun answers exasperatedly, “You never told me his name, so I don’t know what to call him. Actually, I haven’t heard you talk about him since the first day of classes. I was hoping you’d tell me what happened with him, but I guess I have to go digging up your dirt myself.” He rolls his eyes.

“His name is Haechan.” You answer, moving your computer to the side, “And I haven’t said anything to you about him because… I haven’t seen him in weeks.” You admit quietly.

“Huh? Didn’t you say you were meeting up so he could tell you why he’s sure you’re his soulmate?” You nod your head at the question, “So, what happened after that?”

“Well… I kinda, maybe, sort of…. have been avoiding him.” You answer quietly, stealing a glance at your best friend to see him staring at you blankly. When he sighs and reaches for his pillow, your eyes widen and you hold up your hands in front of you, spewing pleas and ‘wait’s. Xiaojun doesn’t care, though, flinging his pillow from behind him and into your face.

“Ow?” You whine after the pillow makes contact with your head and forces you to turn to face the other way, “Was that necessary?” You rub your nose, the part of your face that hurts worse from his attack. You’re used to Xiaojun doing this to you whenever you did something that both of you know you shouldn’t have so that you can “get some sense knocked into you, hopefully.”

“You’re so dumb. So, so dumb. Why would you avoid him.” It’s not a question, more of a confused statement to the general air. “You realize people would kill to meet their soulmate, right? People would do anything to be in your position, but you just hide away?”

“People would do anything to meet their soulmate, but people would also do anything to stay away from the person who shares their other mark.” You retaliate, “You don’t understand. To me, Haechan is both of those people.”

“There you go again, worrying about the future when you’re not even sure about what is going to happen. When will you stop worrying about something you can’t control and start thinking about today?” Xiaojun sounds so tired talking about this topic, a conversation you’ve had many times in your friendship. You wonder if he’s so tired of it, why he keeps bringing it up himself.

Before you can answer, the door to the room opens and Mark walks in, several snacks in his arms, “Hey, everyone, I hope it’s okay I brought a friend. He’s in the same major as me, just a year younger—”

“___?” Mark stops talking when his friend speaks, surprised that he already knows one of the people in the room. Your eyes widen, jaw slackening as you’re unable to even let out a peep from your mouth.

“You know each other?” Mark asks, looking between his two friends.

“Yeah, you could say I know my soulmate.” Donghyuck replies, making both Xiaojun and Mark’s eyes widen. You suddenly realize the situation you’re in: under a blanket with Xiaojun, your pajamas on, and your soulmate in front of you after you ghosted him for weeks. For the first time in a while, your eyes meet.

Donghyuck is mad. You can tell by how his fists are clenched and his jaw is tightened. Slowly getting out of the bed, you try to form some words, but Donghyuck snaps and walks over to you quickly. Grabbing your hand, he pulls you out of the room and down the hallway until you get to the lounge area. When you reach the empty room, that’s when you come to your senses.

“Donghyuck,” You pull your arm out of his, making him turn to face you, “I’m not even wearing shoes.” You hiss, pointing down to your feet as if to prove some point.

“What was all that?” He disregards your comment and hisses back at you, stepping closer so that you’re barely a few inches apart. “You were under a blanket. With some guy. Don’t you feel wrong doing that?” He asks, his hands now on his hips. You feel slightly like you’re being lectured to.

“That guy is my best friend.” You spit out.

“So, do you go around and do that to all of your guy friends?” Donghyuck chuckles vehemently, you can tell he’s angry and jealous, and that those emotions are clouding his brain at the moment. That doesn’t mean his words don’t hurt, though.

“Xiaojun and I have been best friends since we were in diapers. I’ve known you for three weeks, barely. I’m more comfortable around him than I am with you. You think just because I’m your soulmate, I’ll automatically trust you and we’ll all of a sudden be a happy couple? It doesn’t work like that, Donghyuck. I don’t even know you.” You can tell you hurt him by your last words because he turns silent, his shoulders slouching and his anger subsiding.

You can tell you hurt him, hard, because you feel the hurt, too.

It makes you realize how scary the bond between soulmates is. Even though you and Donghyuck haven’t spent that much time together to strengthen your bond, it’s still strong enough to allow you to feel his emotions. It makes you wonder if Donghyuck will be able to feel your pain in the future when he hurts you, like he’s destined to.

“Have you even tried to get to know me? You’ve been avoiding me ever since I took you to the pond.” At his comment, you fold your arms over your chest and look away, not ready to answer that question.

“I’m… just scared, is all.” You manage to reply. Although not the complete truth, it’s not a total lie. Donghyuck completely softens at your words, his close proximity to you feels less threatening and turns into something more gentle. His hand softly slips into yours, but this time with a lighter touch than before.

“You don’t have to be scared, not around me. I’m new to this too, so I don’t know how it all works yet, but this is something we can figure out together. That’s what we were fated to do.” Donghyuck can feel his words pulling you closer to him, he can feel you on the edge and he’s ready to catch you with his arms wide open.

But in the last second, you take a step back and slip your hand out of his, making his drop limply to his sides. You send him a look, something he can’t read, and then turn around and walk back to the dorm he pulled you out of.

He almost had you, almost.

When midterms come around, you use your upcoming tests and projects as a way to dive deep into your work so that you don’t have to think about Donghyuck. It’s a good plan overall, however your friends quickly start worrying for you and your health. Staying up late several nights in a row and not even being able to remember when the last time you ate is where Xiaojun pulled the plug on your bad studying habits. He confiscated your backpack and dropped you off in front of your dorm building with the promise that you’ll have all of your things back tomorrow morning only if you rest for tonight.

On your way to the elevator, you run into Yuqi, both of your facial expressions brightening when you recognize each other.

“Oh, ___, Hi!” You stop in the middle of the hallway to greet her, a smile pulling at your lips due to her bright hello. “How are you?”

“Midterms are kicking my ass, but other than that I’m fine.” She laughs at your answer, throwing her head back and letting her new short hair ruffle her shoulders.

“I wish I could tell you it gets better, but that would be a lie.” You nod your head in solemn understanding, “Listen, I can’t talk for long since I have a night class, but promise to text me when things slow down, yeah?”

“Of course, I promise.” You nod, just the thought of spending some time with a good friend already pushes away your stress. You wave bye to Yuqi as she begins to turn around but after a loud “oh!” leaves her lips, she turns back to face you.

“Your roommate, her name is Mya, right?” At her random question, you tilt your head in confusion, “She has really long, black hair and big glasses, right? I think I saw her when I was helping you move in?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” You nod, “Why?”

“She found her soulmate today.” You would’ve been more interested in the news if you knew Mya beyond when she goes to class and when she gets back to the dorm, but you feign surprise and nod your head absentmindedly.

“Lucas managed to get a video. It was a whole performance in the quad today, you’d think someone was getting married. I’ll send it to you later.” And with that, she says her last goodbye and runs off. You slowly turn and continue walking in a slow pace up to your dorm room, taking the stairs just so you can have some time to think and be away from people you could potentially run into if you use the elevator.

You’re genuinely happy for Mya, even if you barely know a single thing about her. However, something about a person close to you finding their soulmate makes you sad, considering the situation with your own soulmate. You can’t help but feel a little jealous that there are people who can meet their soulmate and fall into each other’s lives easily.

In times like these, you crave for Donghyuck.

You crave his touch and his words, you crave that comfortable feeling of belonging somewhere you get when he’s around. It’s insane that you haven’t spent much time together, yet you can yearn for someone to the extent that it hurts. It’s been like this ever since Donghyuck pulled you out of Xiaojun’s dorm and you rejected him.

Turning away from him all those weeks ago still haunts you. When you’re struggling to fall asleep, your mind goes to that night. When you let your mind wander, it wanders to that night. You constantly think about stepping away from him, but you’re not sure if you keep remembering the moment out of guilt or shame. One of the questions you keep asking yourself is if you did the right thing. You still do not have an answer.

When you walk into your dorm room, you kick off your shoes and turn on your bedside lamp, falling onto your bed with a deep sigh. You close your eyes for a second, but the peace and quiet of your room is ruined when your phone dings with a notification.

Yuqi’s message pops up, and when you swipe your phone open you can see she sent a video. You click on it and turn the volume up. This was no doubt taken earlier today in the quad, the sun shining and lots of professors and students walking in the background. Under the huge clock tower stand two people, one of them holding a large bouquet of roses. When the clock strikes noon, the bells on top of the tower begin to ring a familiar melody that can be heard all over your big campus. You see the exchange of the bouquet and the two people hug, and then applause rises from the people walking by. You smile when you hear Lucas’ whooping and hollering from behind the phone.

You’ve heard about the tradition of soulmates meeting under the clock tower at your university. Yuqi told you about it when she was giving you a tour around campus at the beginning of the semester. You remember her telling you that it’s really romantic, probably due to the history of so many people getting together in the exact same spot.

Although the idea is rather plain, you do feel your heart strings tug at the beautiful display, glad you could see something like this through a video. Then, as the camera gets closer to the couple, your smile fades and you pause the video, zooming in to get a better view. Mya is no doubt the one who received the flowers, but you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows as you recognize her soulmate.

It’s one of Donghyuck’s friends.

Not the quiet one with black hair that hangs around on the outside of their group, but the shorter one who seemed to simultaneously love and hate Donghyuck, or at least that’s what you gathered from seeing him a few times.

After the realization, you drop your phone to the side and stare up at your ceiling in defeat. Is this fate? If you didn’t meet Donghyuck on those steps two months ago, would you eventually meet him through your roommate and her soulmate? Or is this all just one big coincidence?

In this world, coincidences are harder to find than the work of fate.

Your train of thought is quickly cut off by the opening on the door, you quickly sit up to watch a huge red bouquet of flowers enter the room, followed by your roommate. You’ve only seen her face a few times this semester, but never have her features looked so bright and happy. She also looks startled when she notices you’re in the room, but her happiness doesn’t fade.

“Oh? You’re here?” She asks.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You both chuckle awkwardly, “Congrats, by the way. For finding your soulmate.” You motion to the flowers in her hand.

“Thank you! To be honest, Renjun wasn’t at all what I expected in a soulmate, but I think I love him already.” The sweetness drips from her eyes and words, and you nod and smile, remembering that Donghyuck’s friend’s name is Renjun. Her phone begins to ring and she shuffles the flowers in her hand to look at the screen, “Oh, it’s him.”

She answers the call, speaking quietly as she walks over to her side of the room. You weigh out the options of sneaking out of your dorm and finding a place to chill until your roommate falls asleep. You're not sure if you can talk to her about soulmate stuff and keep up this happy look on your face.

However, all thoughts of those plans leave your mind when Mya turns to you and holds out the phone, “It’s for you?” She says it more like a question, but you’re sure you’re the one who’s more confused.

“Hello?” You ask into the phone, awkwardly looking around the room.

“___? Oh, thank god. It’s Renjun, Haechan’s friend. I need your help.” He talks quickly and shallowly, like he’s out of breath and currently moving somewhere.

“How did you know I’m Mya’s roommate?” You ask, disregarding his cry for help.

“It’s a long story, I promise I’ll explain later, but can you please come to the auditorium? The back entrance.” You hear more voices in the background of the call, but you can’t make out what they're saying. One of them is definitely Donghyuck.

“What’s going on?” At the sound of your soulmate’s unique tenor, you suddenly become more aware of what might be happening. Is Donghyuck safe? Did he get in trouble?

“Donghyuck drank too much and he won’t go home, he keeps asking for you.” At that, you hand the phone back to Mya, who takes it from you with an unsure look. By the time Mya says her worried goodbyes and hangs up, she turns back to an empty dorm room, your phone snatched from your bed and your scattered shoes gone.

You must’ve made it to the auditorium in record time, not even the climb up the 109 steps could slow you down. When you reach the auditorium, you can hear Donghyuck and his friends conversing loudly and you follow their voices, which eventually leads you to the dingy backside of the auditorium. Donghyuck is sitting on the ground with the hood of his coat pulled up and covering his eye sight, arms crossed over his chest and his lips in a pout. His two friends, Renjun and the black-haired kid, stand above him. The quiet one is shivering in his spot while Renjun practically yells at Donghyuck on the ground, who doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon.

“Hi, ___.” The quiet one notices you first and then all three guys turn to look at you.

“___…” Donghyuck whines out your name and tries to stand up but Renjun gently pushes him back down.

“What happened?” You ask, sniffing your nose when the harsh, cold air nips at it.

“He said he wanted to unwind before his midterms tomorrow but then he went out and had some drinks, a few too many as you can see.” Renjun explains, “We followed him here, he said he won’t go anywhere unless it’s with you.”

“It’s strange. Haechan is a good drinker, I didn’t think he would get drunk so quickly… Oh, I’m Jaemin, by the way.” He introduces himself with a bright smile, as if you weren’t just discussing the drunken state of his friend.

“I’m Renjun, I called you earlier. I promise I have a good explanation for how I know you’re Mya’s roommate, I just don’t think right now is the best time to talk about it.” Renjun explains, his hands pointing towards Donghyuck.

“Right, about him… I think you guys should leave.” Both sober men widen their eyes, looking at each other and then back at you.

“Are you sure you want to handle this yourself? He looks small, but Haechan is kind of heavy.” Jaemin warns.

“Hey!” Donghyuck speaks up, but even his verbalization sounds slurred. When he points an accusing finger at Jaemin, he sways and misses Jaemin’s figure by a whole foot, “Don’t say that kind of stuff to my girlfriend.”

At his use of the word, Jaemin and Renjun stand straight with awkwardness and you sigh, white puffs of air leaving your mouth, “Yeah, you guys should go.”

Renjun and Jaemin give you an unsure look, but turn around and leave the area anyway. Renjun sends one last look over his shoulder with a wave of his hand. You look at Donghyuck after they turn the corner, kicking his shoe gently.

“Hey, get up. How much did you drink?” You’re not actually curious about how much alcohol he consumed, you just want to know if he can even respond to simple questions.

“Babe!” He exclaims when he looks up, “Oh, not much. I could go for another round right now, actually.” His words slur together and he sways in his sitting position against the brick wall of the auditorium.

“You’re not going for another round, you’re going home. C’mon.” You grab onto the sleeve of his puffer jacket, pulling him up so that he’s standing. He immediately falls onto you, his arms around your waist and his legs spread wide so that his head is hidden in your neck.

“Hyuck, you have to walk. Get up.” You pull him up once again, putting one of his arms around your shoulders and giving him more support around his waist. Slowly, you begin to walk away from the auditorium with Donghyuck’s drunk mumbling filling the cool air. His legs barely work underneath him, and he turns his head and leans into your ear every once in a while to sing some random lyric that pops into his mind at that second, like a small concert that he allows only you to hear.

Once you reach the top of the staircase, you stop and take a long look down to the bottom, “Why did you have to come all the way up here? How are we getting down the stairs?” If you start to climb down, Donghyuck could fall and hurt himself. You’re not that strong to begin with and your shoulders are already feeling sore from carrying most of Donghyuck’s weight.

“We can ride this.” He giggles and breaks away from you, one of his legs swinging over the handrail so that he’s straddling it.

“No, no, no.” You pull him off, but his shoe gets caught against the rail and he comes falling down onto you, both of you landing on the top step of the staircase. You wince in pain at how your back hits the concrete, but you don’t think about it much as you push Donghyuck off of you and into the space next to you on the top stair.

“Oh, no. Are we stuck up here?” He asks as you brush your hands together to get rid of the little pieces of concrete in your skin.

“Yes, and it’s all your fault. What are you gonna do about it?” You reply, so sarcastically that even Donghyuck’s drunk brain registers the joke. Your heart almost leaps out of your throat when he grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him, gently picking out each little ball of cement in your palms.

“I’m sorry I keep hurting you.” He apologizes. This close, you can smell the alcohol in his breath, mixed with his shampoo and cologne. He smells warm in this cold weather, and you feel like falling into him and drinking up his scent, not even minding the alcohol stench.

“Keep hurting me?” You ask.

“Yeah, that must be why you don’t want to be with me. I have to be doing something wrong for you to hate me.” He sighs, sniffling and enclosing your hands in his, his glassy eyes looking up at you and his long hair hangs down over his forehead and tickles his eyelashes. “I’m a bad soulmate.”

The way he says it makes your heart break. It makes you feel regret 1000 times worse than what you’ve been feeling these past few weeks; as if all of the worry and sadness hit you all at once, you feel like crying.

Isn’t he supposed to be the one who hurts you? Why does it feel like you’re the only one doing the hurting?

“You’re not a bad soulmate,” It’s not Donghyuck’s fault that he got stuck with you, or that things will turn out the way that they’re destined to, “And I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” He looks up into the night sky and sways a bit as he thinks, “Then why won’t you be with me? Hm?” He tilts his head, his lips pouting as he thinks. You desperately want to find an answer that’ll soothe him, but nothing you can come up with will give you that result, the truth included.

“It’s complicated…” You trail off, and your answer makes Donghyuck snort.

“How? I’m your soulmate, you’re mine. What else matters?” He laughs incredulously.

“What if you’re not just my soulmate?” You ask him, surprising yourself with how easily you can ask the question, probably because the influence of alcohol over him has you more at ease, “What if something happens in the future? I’m just… looking out for me, and for you.” You explain, trying to sound as vague as possible.

When you glance at Donghyuck, he looks dead serious. You think that maybe he has suddenly sobered up with how deep and calculating his eyes look. One of his hands tighten around yours while the other slowly raises to your hair, pacing himself along the way, and pausing before he touches you. When you don’t stop him, he gently caresses your hair and moves it away from your face, his nimble fingers sliding to your jaw. He moves your face so that your eyes meet his.

“I know I’m drunk, but I can make this promise again when I’m sober. I’ll make this promise every single day for the rest of my life, only if it means you can be there with me to fulfill it.” The severeness in his tone is like a wake up call about how serious this is for him.

“What promise?” You whisper back.

“It’s not just a ‘you’ or just a ‘me’ now. It’s an ‘us.’ And I will do everything I can to not hurt us.”

He says it with so much conviction that you somehow believe him. You finally fall into him and rest your tired head on his shoulder as he welcomes you into his warm arms. Maybe it’s foolish of you to think you two can go against fate’s words, but with him by your side, you feel like you can conquer the whole universe.

“Stop smiling like that, you’re making it very obvious that you got laid for the first time.” Donghyuck peers over his laptop screen to Renjun, where he has had a permanent smile on his face ever since he, Donghyuck, and Jaemin met up today to study in the lounge center of their dorm building.

“You know, Haechan, I’m not even mad at that. It’s more than what I can say to you.” Renjun tries to hide his widening smile while looking down at his own laptop, but that paired with Jaemin’s quiet laughter leaves Donghyuck bitter. “Didn’t you and ___ make up?” Renjun asks.

“They were fighting? I thought they just weren’t talking to each other?” Jaemin asks.

“Isn’t that fighting?”

“Kids.” Haechan cuts them off, “Not that it’s any of your business, but we were not fighting and we did make up.”

“That makes no sense.” Jaemin mutters and squints his eyes at Donghyuck.

“I’m older than you.” Renjun retaliates, but Donghyuck pretends like he doesn’t hear.

“We’re just… taking it slow.” Donghyuck ends his explanation with a firm nod of his head, and Renjun shuts his laptop and turns to his friend.

“Can you take it slow during the Fair this weekend? I’m planning to go with Mya and accidentally bought two pairs of tickets. I’ll give you the other pair.” Renjun leans into his friend’s side and wiggles his eyebrows.

“At what cost?” Haechan leans in as well and raises an eyebrow.

“Help me with my English project.”

“No way,” Haechan leans back and focuses on his own laptop screen again, “I haven’t even started mine, I don’t have time to help you with yours.”

“Please,” Renjun draws out the word, grabbing Donghyuck’s sleeve and tugging at it so hard that he can’t properly type, “I suck at English, and unfortunately it’s the only thing that you’re better at than me.”

“The only thing?” Donghyuck glares at Renjun. “Now I’m definitely not helping you.” When Renjun whines at that Donghyuck gets a devilish idea, and it shows by the smirk on his face, “... Unless, you’d like to show us how you really need help.”

At Donghyuck’s proposition, he leans back in his chair with his arms folded across his  chest while Jaemin mirrors his actions, his own goofy smile on his face as he waits for Renjun to either accept or deny the proposition, but he hopes he’ll accept it.

Renjun looks between his two friends and sighs, dropping his head down as he mentally prepares himself. When he lifts his head, he looks at Donghyuck with his lips pursed, his pointer finger over them and makes a “kyu” sound that is way higher than his original speaking voice. Jaemin and Haechan immediately burst into as quiet of laughter as they can, Jaemin reaching over the table to poke Renjun’s cheek at his cuteness.

“I never said to act cute, I just wanted you to say please again.” Donghyuck jokes through his snickering, and Renjun immediately stands up from his chair to take a fistful of Haechan’s jacket and pull back his other fist, all cuteness gone from his facial features in a split second.

“Okay, okay, sorry, sorry.” Haechan tries to pull away, his voice rising as Renjun holds onto his jacket tighter and threateningly leans in.

“Hey, quiet down.” Someone whisper-shouts from a few tables away, and it makes Renjun let go of Donghyuck and slowly sit back down. “This isn’t even a library, why are they shushing me.” He grumbles.

“You guys have fun on your date,” Jaemin sighs as he begins to put away his things, satisfied with the study session and with his friends' mischief, “I would go too, but I don’t feel like being a fifth wheel.”

Once your classes end on the day of the Fair, you and your roommate meet up with Donghyuck and Renjun outside of the Fair grounds. You and Donghyuck walk side by side, a bit behind the other couple as they lead the way, practically in their own little bubble. Your hands are shoved in your pockets to keep them from turning numb from the cold and you try to shove your head as far into your jacket as you can to keep your face and neck protected from the wind. Other than the chilly weather, it’s a perfect day for a Fair.

You don’t seem to notice Donghyuck’s predicament right beside you; he’s trying to find a way to hold your hand, but you don’t move them out of your pockets. Actually, Donghyuck is sure you’re doing this on purpose, since he has been trying to touch you the moment you met up with him tonight.

“So, what do you wanna ride first?” He asks you. After looking around the area, your eyes land on a tea cup ride, where the large cups move in circles and also spin in their spots.

“That.” You point to it. Before you can move, Donghyuck latches into your hand that was pointing into the air and pulls you to the ride, a smug smile on his face at how he succeeded in finally sharing some skin to skin contact.

The ride was, to say the least, nauseating. Not that it was disgusting, but Donghyuck wouldn’t stop spinning your individual cup around in fast circles, and you were so sure that you would fling off any second due to the strong velocity those tiny cups have when they go at full speed. However, walking off of the ride with wobbly legs and not being able to see straight was funnier than you thought it would be.

Donghyuck was actually still pretty dizzy when he tried to win a stuffed octopus for you with a dart game. However, he ended up losing $15 while trying to win the game, and you’re sure he would’ve spent more if you didn’t pull him away. After eating some good food and refilling your energy, the sun begins to set on the horizon in a colorful display of red, orange and pink, and people start to make their way to the ferris wheel.

“C’mon,” You hear Mya say from behind you, “We need to get in line first or else we’ll be waiting for half of the night.” She pulls Renjun by his sleeve and passes you and Donghyuck, practically running to the end of the growing line for the Ferris Wheel. When you see where she’s running to, you stop in your tracks which in turn makes Donghyuck stop. Your intertwined fingers pull you back to each other as he looks at you with a puzzled look.

“I’m… not good with heights.” You confess and look towards the top of the ferris wheel, shivering just at the thought of going that far up into the sky in a metal contraption, “Or small spaces…” You add on.

“That’s okay,” Donghyuck gently reassures, smiling lightly at your sudden timidness about your fears. Honestly, he’s just happy you now trust him a bit more to even tell him what you’re afraid of. “We don’t have to go. We can do something else.”

“Like what?” You ask. Donghyuck purses his lips and looks around, until a set of stairs on the edge of the fairgrounds catches his eye.

“I know a place where we can still get a good view of the sunset without going too far up.” He replies and tugs you along with him towards the set of stairs. They lead down to the park that’s nestled in the middle of your University, which eventually leads to a pedestrian bridge that crosses over a river that runs through your town.

The river isn’t that big, nor is the bridge, but it’s big enough to have your head tilting up in wonder as you gaze at the lights adorning the sides of it, lighting up not only the bridge itself by the sky as well. You’ve seen this bridge from your dorm room, but you’ve never once stood on it, and it looks remarkable from this close up.

Donghyuck continues to lead you over the pedestrian bridge onto the other side, where an outdoor museum that was constructed by art students a few years ago holds several different abstract paintings. His hand in yours, which has been it’s resting place all night, keeps yours warm. You try not to think about how your hands fit into each other like the gears of a hand-crafted watch. The lines on your palms connect with the lines on his; it’s painfully obvious he was made for you and you were made for him.

When you reach the end of the outdoor museum, you turn west and face the sunset just as it’s setting over the skyline. Even though some tall buildings obstruct the view, the colors of the sky stretch overhead and make both you and Donghyuck stand still and appreciate the artwork in the sky.

“You like these kinds of things, huh? Sunsets, and ponds, and that kind of stuff?” He suddenly asks, not talking his eyes off of the sky. You, however, turn to look at him. He has his eyes screwed as he tries to look at the sunset, obviously not liking the bright sunlight.

“You don’t?” You ask back.

“I think... there are more enjoyable things.” Donghyuck takes a while to make up his mind about what he wants, obviously trying not to make the things you enjoy sound bad to him.

“Then we should go.” You turn around, but he pulls you back to your original spot.

“We walked all this way, we’re watching this sunset even if my feet freeze to the ground.” He tightens his grip on your hand and speaks through his teeth, making you sputter out a laugh and hit his shoulder with your own lightly.

“Sometimes, I wonder why fate put us together.” You ask, watching as the sun moves bit by bit, leaving behind trails of light and the beginnings of stars and the vast universe on the other side of the sky. “We’re different. I don’t know about you, but you are not who I imagined my soulmate would be.” You speak truthfully.

Even though there are some strings attached to Donghyuck’s relationship with you, it didn’t stop you from thinking about what kind of person he’d be— what kind of person fate would pick to be your perfect fit. Maybe they would have some sort of major flaw, like an anger problem or a lack of common sense. Maybe they would be an alcoholic or someone who commits crimes.

When it came to your soulmate, you always thought of something bad considering that they were also going to hurt you in some way. You never thought that your soulmate would be someone as unique and fun as Donghyuck. Fate made it way too easy to be with him, and you’re not sure whether to feel bitter or thankful.

“Well,” He blows some air through his nose, “You’re exactly what I thought my soulmate would be like” Your heart jumps into your throat and beats irregularly when Donghyuck says that, struck with the feeling of surprise once again.

“Mark tells me you’re smart and get good grades, and I know it was you who ordered that soup for me the morning after you took me home when I got drunk. Not to mention, you went out when it was dark to take me home in the first place.” Donghyuck explains, his hand that’s still interlocked with yours waving around as he does so, “You’re willing to help others, you have a good head on your shoulders, and not to mention you guard your heart to the very end.”

“Guarding my heart… That’s an admirable quality? If I remember correctly, it caused you some pain in the past few months.” By now, the last rays of the sun are disappearing over the horizon and night begins to blanket the sky. You turn to your soulmate when he takes more than a moment to answer, watching the way his face reacts to the thoughts turning in his head.

“Yeah, it is a great quality. I think if you completely trusted me the moment you saw me on those stairs, we wouldn’t end up here now. You wouldn’t be the perfect fit for me if you loved me so easily.” He turns to you, a teasing smile playing on his lips. Your interlocked fingers are basically frozen together at this point and maybe your feet really have stuck to the ground, but his words warm you up from the inside out.

“I think I would’ve fallen in love with you even if we weren’t destined to be together.”

Somehow, he manages to remind you of one very important fact that you’ve set aside since the moment you met him. You’ve always put the fact that he’s supposed to hurt you first, and the fact that he’s your soulmate second. However, he is a human and so are you, and you’re both given the opportunity to love one another wholly and truly. People die to have this type of moment. People live their whole lives without experiencing this type of emotion.

It’s time to remember that Donghyuck is your soulmate, first and foremost. He is deserving of love, and you’re now willing to give it to him.

When you pull Donghyuck into you, he feels like it may be a hallucination. Surely your lips can’t be that close to his own. But when he smells the cinnamon on your lips from that churro you had and your fingers sliding up his arm to grip his jacket, he becomes scared that this might actually be a hallucination.

You slowly lean in, almost painfully slow, but Donghyuck doesn’t dare rush you. When your lips do meet, both of you feel complete. The feeling of finishing a lifetime’s worth of work with one gentle kiss is the most delicious feeling ever, different from anything that either of you have ever experienced.

It’s slow and careful, but passionate and full of true love. No matter what happens in the future, it will always be your memory to savor and remember for the rest of your lives.

“___!” You hear Mark’s voice from your right, turning your head quickly to see him stick his hand up in the air and begin to make his way through the throngs of people between you two. You move towards him, attempting to meet in the middle, but somehow he ends up behind you, and you laugh as you attempt to meet again.

“Hey, Mark,” You look over him, noting how well he manages to pull off the choir robe that everyone else seems to look like a sack of potatoes in, “I didn’t know your concerts could get this packed. You guys could start your own group and make it big.” You look around while adjusting the flowers in your hand so they don’t get squished against your chest.

“Nah, it’s mostly just families that come to these concerts. Since there are a lot of vocal majors, there are a lot of families that show up.” He explains.

“So, what does that make me?” You joke, but Mark doesn’t seem to get it and tilts his head to the side.

“You’re Donghyuck’s girlfriend. That makes you family, right?” At the mention of your relationship, you glance down at the flowers in your hand, the flowers that are meant for the aforementioned boy. You nod, mumbling something like a ‘I guess’ before Mark looks down at his watch and sucks a breath through his teeth.

“Okay, I have to go warm up. Make sure you get a seat in the middle, that’s where it sounds best.” He gives you a quick wave as he walks away, and you manage to send one back. Before you know it, the doors to the auditorium open and people flood in to grab the best seat they can.

You barely manage to snag a seat in the middle, an older lady to your right and a grandpa to your left who seem to be unrelated and didn’t mind you sitting between them. You shrug off your coat as you look around, feeling anxiety build up in your chest. You know you don’t have anything to be anxious for, so you deduct that it’s probably Donghyuck.

He invited you to the concert today. For him, it’s part of his final grade for his vocal class and for you, it’s a chance to see him sing on stage. Strangely, he has talked about how much he loves to perform but never wants to sing in front of you. When he told you he auditioned for a solo in one of the songs, and ended up getting the part, you knew you absolutely had to come today.

Pulling out your phone, you send Donghyuck a text saying that you’re seated and that you wish him to break a leg. You see the read receipt pop up next to your text, and although he doesn’t text anything back, the anxious feeling in your chest subsides and you smile to yourself.

“Those are pretty flowers.” Turning your head to the lady on your right, you glance down at the bouquet of black-eyed susans on your lap.

“Oh, thank you.” You put your phone on silent and slip it into your pocket.

“They’re my mom’s favorite.” Your attention turns to a kid who sits on the other side of the woman. He can’t be any older than ten, and his feet don’t touch the ground as he swings them back and forth and looks up at his mother.

“Oh?” You ask, turning back to the older woman, “Would you like some?”

The woman seems to be stunned by your question, obviously not expecting you to hand over flowers at such a comment from her son. She looks almost flustered as she shakes her head at you.

“No, it’s okay. I bet those are for someone special?” She asks while nodding towards the stage.

“They’re for my… boyfriend.” You mumble, still not used to the words leaving your tongue, even though it has been more than a few weeks now.

“Then you should save them for him.” She nods and you smile back.

“But I want one.” The woman’s son pouts, and the mother nudges her foot against his leg. You laugh a bit, using your right hand to hold down the bouquet and your left to pull out a flower. Carefully, you hand it over to the little boy and he grasps it, his pout turning into a smile while he sings a ‘thank you’ and counts the petals on the flower.

The woman gives you a nod, and you all turn to face forward where the students are beginning to walk onto the stage.

The concert went well; you weren’t familiar with any of the pieces of music the choir performed, and many of them were in different languages, but you still enjoyed the performance by the many music students from your university. You managed to catch sight of Donghyuck fairly quickly, and Mark was just a few rows behind him.

Donghyuck’s solo fit his voice perfectly. Maybe you’re biased, but you think no one would be able to match his tone and technique to fit the song as perfectly as he did. Since it was the first time you heard him sing, you were a bit taken back by how amazing his voice sounds and how much control he has of it. It didn’t look like he struggled to hit the notes, and he looked like he was in his element on stage.

After the concert, you wait on the staircase outside of the auditorium building where you agreed to meet up with Donghyuck. You roll on your feet, jumping up and down slightly to keep warm. You clutch the flowers to you, scared that the cold weather might cause them to bend and begin to wilt quicker.

“Oh, it’s the flower lady!” You hear a familiar voice call out, and you turn your head to see the little boy and his mom from earlier… walking with Donghyuck? He has his choir robe hanging from one arm and his other hand intertwined with the little kid.

“Do you guys know each other?” Donghyuck asks, looking between the three of you with confusion.

“We happened to sit next to each other during the concert.” The woman explains, a grin growing on her face as she looks between you two. “This is your soulmate.” She doesn’t say it like a question, she says it plainly and nods her head in content.

“I’m sorry, did you already know who I was when we met?” You ask her.

“No, until I saw the mark on your left hand. I would recognize my own son’s mark anywhere.” Son? This is Donghyuck’s mother?! Your eyebrows must be up to your hairline and you think your mouth might be open, but you can only focus on remembering every little thing you said to her before the concert started to recall if you said anything dumb.

“Let me introduce you properly. This is ___, my soulmate and my girlfriend. ___, this is my mom, Sara, and my half-brother, Hyunjin.” Donghyuck gently takes your elbow and pulls you closer to him.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet them as if it’s the first time ever.

“Well, I like her. She gave me a flower.” Hyunjin exclaims.

“Back off, she’s mine.” Donghyuck jokes with the kid. “Thank you guys for coming today, by the way.” He continues, “I appreciate my favorite people being here for my first college performance.”

Donghyuck goes to hug his mom as she sets a kiss to his cheek that makes him cringe away slightly. However, you’re still struck to your spot from being included into Donghyuck’s group of favorite people. There’s a warm feeling in your chest at being included into something so special so early on in your relationship. There’s also some anxiety that comes with it, since promises that are made too early hurt the most, but you push the feeling away and soak in Donghyuck’s unconditional love.

After you all bid farewell to each other, and Sara and Hyunjin leave, you turn to Donghyuck with a deadpan expression, “You didn’t tell me I’d be meeting your family today.”

“Would you believe me when I say that I forgot they were coming?” He asks and you roll your eyes, not believing his words at all.

“These are for you.” You push the flowers into his chest and dig your hands into your pockets so that they can finally get warm, “Your solo was… interesting to listen to.” You say with annoyance dripping from every word.

“Thank you,” He replies cutely, not affected by your irritation. You roll your eyes again, but a smile tugs at your lips as well. “What kind of flowers are these? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them?” He asks while digging his nose into the bouquet.

“Black-eyed susans.” You reply, and Donghyuck gives you a weird look.

“That’s such a random flower.”

“They attract dragonflies.” You explain, nudging his side with your elbow. When you glance over to him, he has a smile playing on his lips.

“Should I be giving these to you, then?” He hands them over, but you push them back at him.

“No way. I’m already attracted to you.” You state, turning around to walk back down the staircase. When you don’t hear any footsteps following you, you turn around to find Donghyuck kneeling over with the flowers clutched close to him.

“Are you okay?” Alarm rises in your chest, especially when he shakes his head at your question.

“No, you just made my heart beat really fast and I’m afraid I’m gonna have a heart attack.” You would roll your eyes again, but you’re afraid they might roll out of your head at this point. You climb back up the stairs and yank on his sleeve jacket to make him walk alongside you.

“___, feel my heart. I swear it’s going to beat out of my chest.”

“Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“No, seriously, I think we should go to the hospital.”

“Shut up.”

In the morning, Donghyuck loves to wake up next to you. He has always been a spread-out type of sleeper; arms to the side, legs open, laying diagonally across the bed. Once you two moved out of your dorms and moved into an apartment together during your second year of college, Donghyuck’s way of sleeping changed dramatically.

Now, he can’t help but snuggle in, wrap his arms around you, tangle his legs in with yours, and do everything he can to sleep as close as he can to you. Maybe that’s why he suddenly woke up. The absence of you next to him made him shuffle awake, missing the frame of your body next to his like how it usually fits.

He groggily opens his eyes and immediately shivers, catching the open windows in the bedroom letting in fresh, cool, morning air. Donghyuck shivers once again, blindly reaching for the blanket and wrapping it around his head and shoulders, then making his way out of the bedroom in search of you.

He checks the kitchen, but you’re not there. Then he goes to the living room, and he sees your figure outside on the balcony, the curtains that are supposed to be hanging up in your bedroom moving with the wind as they hang next to you. He tightens the blanket around him and opens the glass door. Even though you definitely heard him come outside, you don’t turn around. You have a cup of something warm next to you and you’re leaning against the balcony while staring out into the city skyline, watching the sun rise into the sky to welcome the new day.

“Good morning.” Donghyuck mumbles as softly as he can. When you mumble back a reply, he opens the front of the blanket so he can swallow you into his embrace. His chin rests on your shoulder and tries to guess exactly what you’re looking at, but when he lifts his head to look at your face, your eyes are closed.

“So, do you want to tell me why our curtains are out here and not on our windows like they should be?” He rests his head against yours, also closing his eyes.

“I woke up and suddenly felt the urge to clean them, I don’t know.” You laugh a bit, making both of you move with the movement of your chest. Donghyuck smiles at your reason; one of the things he learned about you when you moved in together is that your work ethic comes in random bursts of energy, rather than carefully planned out schedules to follow. You always have a small goal for every day, and sometimes you don’t even know what it is until it randomly pops into your head. Although he doesn’t really understand how you’re able to work like that, he loves this little quirk anyway.

“Did I wake you up?” You whisper and nudge your head into Donghyuck’s, nuzzling back into him when a particularly strong gust of wind blows over the balcony.

“Not technically, no. You not being next to me woke me up.” He replies.

“Well, I’m here now. How about we sleep some more?” You ask, leaning back against him and looking at his face.

“Best thing I’ve heard today.” He sighs. Without letting you out of his blanket trap, he walks you both back into the apartment and into your bedroom, both of you beginning to giggle at one point when you almost trip over the blanket and crash into the ground.

Thankfully, you both made it back safely to the bed, falling into the soft mattress. Immediately, Donghyuck gathers you in his arms and cuddles you to him, almost like he’s latching onto you. You wrap your arms around him slowly and lean into his shoulder, placing a kiss against his collarbone. You were going to stop there, but when he lets out a whimper at the small press of your lips to his skin, you continue moving up his neck.

When you reach the space underneath his ear, he twitches at how you suck on the sensitive skin, not expecting you to pay closer attention there. His hand slides over your back, between your shoulder blades, and back down, pressing you to him as he caresses you and silently hopes you don’t stop what you’ve started.

You don’t seem to have any intention to do that when you lean back, looking up at Donghyuck’s big, round eyes as they stare down hazily at you and quickly connecting your lips. He kisses back slowly, as if taking his sweet, sweet time in loving you.

“I thought we were supposed to sleep?” You ask between kisses.

“We can sleep later…” He trails off, grabbing your hand and pulling you on top of him so that you’re straddling his hips. “... If you’re really tired we don’t have to.” He suddenly pulls away, his hand comfortably resting over your waist.

“No way. It’s too late for that.” You answer, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the other side of the bed. A chill runs through you at the cold temperature in the room, goosebumps forming over your arms and your nipples hardening. Donghyuck wraps his arms around your middle and presses a kiss in the valley of your chest, moving over until he reaches your left nipple and taking it into his mouth.

Biting your lip, your hands find his hair and tug on the long strands. Donghyuck’s hands squeeze your sides and his fingers draw random, little lines over your bare skin as he sucks and plays with your nipples, switching between each one.

“Hyuck…” You whine, giving a particularly sharp tug to his hair when he bites down onto your right nipple. “Please…” You trail off.

“Hmm? Please what? What do you want.” He leans back and looks up at you. You comb your fingers through his hair, pushing it back away from his face and behind his ears. His eyes are clouded and hooded over by the thoughts of you that are speeding through his mind.

“Please, make love to me.” You say it shyly, your eyes looking over his face but not meeting his own. He can’t help but smile at your timidness. You act like it’s the first time those words came out of your mouth. He can’t help but find it endearing how you ask him to make love to you every single time you find yourselves in this position.

“Of course, anything for you.” He connects your lips again, keeping the slow and steady pace from before. He shifts around as he moves his boxers away. Breaking the kiss, you move his hands away and pump his shaft, glancing up at him as he leans back with his weight on his hands and his head leaning back.

He lets out whines every time you twist your wrist, and you almost want to take a moment and stay this way, loving the sounds coming from Donghyuck’s mouth and how he looks as he pants beneath you. However, the tension growing between your legs makes you stop and sit up, pulling off your own pajama bottoms and underwear, throwing them somewhere along with your shirt.

Donghyuck grips your hips with one hand, the other pressing his middle finger to your slick folds, watching you squirm from above as he slides his finger through slowly.

“Just— Can you just do something already?” You almost whine out, grabbing onto his arm hard enough that you leave crescent moons in his skin.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure.” With your permission, Donghyuck positions himself at your entrance and slowly brings your hips down, watching your reaction throughout it all. The way your jaw slacks and drops open to the way you swallow when your hips meet with his, closing your eyes in pleasure at how he manages to fit inside you so perfectly. When everyone says your soulmate is made specifically for you, they really do mean in every way possible.

You sit like that for a moment, before opening your eyes and looking at your lover. He helps you move your hips up and back down, you let out a gsap at the sparks that fly up your spine. Your hips start to move in unison, yours grinding down and his moving up to meet yours in a steady rhythm, like a dance to music only you two can hear.

Your nails hurt when they move over his shoulders and chest, leaving temporary marks, but Donghyuck doesn’t mind. Actually, he loves it when you tug on his hair and scratch up his back, his whines turning into full out groans when you lean in and attach your lips to the side of his neck, pressing hot kisses down to his collarbone and biting down gently in the same place this whole situation started.

“H-Hyuck, I—” Before you know it, you’re so close to your orgasm, it’s basically right in front of you to reach out and accept.

“I know, baby, I know. You can come, I got you.” He answers back messily, using the last of his energy to keep your hips in place and drive himself into you. You let out a shriek at the sudden pleasure, only a few more deep thrusts into your hole and you’re falling over him as your orgasm spreads to every crevice of your body.

Donghyuck loves the way your muscles seize and flutter around him, making him pant and his thrusts become sloppy as he comes as well, his warm seed filling you up as he rides through his high. You both fall into the mattress below, you on top of Donghyuck, too tired to roll over and opting to just rest on his sweaty chest.

“I think that was way better than sleeping.” He says, his chest rumbling underneath you as he speaks.

“What a good way to tire ourselves out.” You yawn.

In the last few moments before your tired bodies fall asleep, you find Donghyuck’s hand and intertwine your fingers together, happily and contently falling asleep with the fresh air coming through the window and the sunlight now fully streaming into the room.

In the late summer before your and Donghyuck’s last year of university, you attend a wedding. Not just any wedding: Yuqi and Lucas’ wedding.

Although the ceremony is held outside, there’s a nice breeze that keeps the guests from getting too hot and sweaty in the summer sun. The whole wedding is held in a botanical garden and the place is decorated in white and purple, lilacs and daisies filling vases everywhere you go and freshening the air with their scent.

You and Donghyuck walk into the room inside the administrative building that’s designated for the bride. Yuqi is there, her face shining brightly with happiness and a glow that can’t be stolen from her today.

When you walk in, you let out a sound of delight at how pretty your college friend looks in her wedding dress, taking note of the chamomile flowers that adorn her hairpiece.

“Ah, I can’t believe you’re here.” She all but shrieks, embracing you tightly with her small bouquet still in her hands. After she gives Donghyuck a small, welcoming hug, she backs away to look at both of you.

“You look amazing today, I can’t believe you’re actually getting married. Congratulations.” You say sincerely.

“I can’t believe it either, actually. I feel like we’ve been planning this for forever, and now the day is finally here.” She recalls, a blissful look in her eyes even though you’re aware of how much stress she has had during the past few months over this one day.

“Are you nervous?” Donghyuck asks and you nudge his side and send him a look for asking a question like that.

“No, I’m not,” Yuqi laughs, “I feel one hundred percent happy. Like I’m starting the next part of my life with the one I love.”

“I’m glad you can spend the rest of your life with your soulmate, you’re definitely luckier than most.” You muse, and she suddenly softens her expression and takes your hand in hers, gently holding onto you.

“I’m not marrying my soulmate. I’m marrying the one I love. It just happens to be the same person.”

After bidding your farewells and good lucks, you and Donghyuck walk out of the room and head to where the ceremony will be held. He pulls out of sunglasses, propping them on the edge of his nose, and then grabbing your hand and strolling through the exhibits on the way to the ceremony grounds.

Yuqi’s words ring in your head throughout the peaceful walk, specifically how happy she looked to be marrying the one she loves. Somehow, you never thought about separating soulmate from lover; those two people have always been one in your head. You always thought that there can’t be a soulmate without a lover, and there can’t be a lover without a soulmate.

But the moment with Yuqi reminded you of the first time Donghyuck properly confessed to you, the words you can still hear floating through your head whenever your mind wanders off and thinks about him.

“I think I would’ve fallen in love with you even if we weren’t destined to be together.”

Maybe Donghyuck has been wiser than you this whole time. Not that you’d ever admit that to his face, unless you’d like to hear about it at least three times a week for the rest of your life.

Every memory— every year that has passed by with Donghyuck has only grown the idea of soulmate and lover further apart in your mind, and it took the matrimony of your close friends to realize it. You don’t think it’s a bad thing; in fact, you’re lucky that you can call your lover and your soulmate the same person.

You feel something tugging at your hand, and when you look over at your lover, he looks at you expectedly.

“Huh?” You say, dumbfounded since you’ve been in your own little world for who knows how long. Donghyuck laughs, bending over a bit at the funny, bewildered look on your face before straightening up and looking over to you again.

“I said, what colors should we do for our wedding? I personally think I look good in red, but I’m sure we can figure out something less contrasting.” He explains nonchalantly, you realize he’s kicking a random pebble around as you walk. Looking around, confused out of your mind, you turn back to him.

“Are we getting married?”

“Well, yeah,” He does something between a laugh and a scoff before leaning next to you, a serious look that permeates through the shade of his sunglasses, “You do want to marry me, right?”

Your brain is in a complete fritz. If you had a whole day to think about this you could maybe make up a sentence that resembles a sophisticated answer, but you can only shrug.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” Donghyuck stops walking, “I just asked you if you want to get married, and you reply with ‘uh, yeah, I guess.’” He mocks your tone and it makes you roll your eyes at him.

“This is the first time we’ve ever talked about this and I got nervous.” You explain, making him relax and stand in front of you with his hands leisurely resting in his pockets. “Of course, someday I would like to marry you. I guess you’re… tolerable.” Donghyuck pushes you away from him and quickly walks down the path, twice as fast as he was walking before. You laugh and follow him, running slightly to catch up.

“Excuse me, Miss, would you like to leave a wish for the happy couple?” A sudden voice stops you, making you turn back around. A man stands with a camera, looking at you expectedly.

“Uh, how?” You look from the camera and back up to him.

“I’ll take your picture. You can write a wish on it and hang it up over there.” He points to the dozens of polaroids already hung up a few feet away, random people posing in the photographs with different color writing on every picture.

“Let’s do it.” Donghyuck comes up behind you, no doubt catching the last part of what the photographer said and pushing you lightly over to where there’s better lighting while taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into his shirt. The photographer asks you to pose, and you and Donghyuck smile for the camera, your eyes slightly shut due to the sun beating down on top of you.

“Great, how about one more for yourselves?” The photographer asks as he waits for the photograph to develop and you agree. This time, Donghyuck wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer so that your back is against his chest. You feel him rest his cheek on your head and drape his other arm around your front. You grab onto his forearm, not knowing what to do with your hands, and then suddenly the picture is taken and the photographer hands over both of the developed photos.

You take the second picture out of Donghyuck’s hands, not being able to look away. The sun seems to hit both of you just right, and the slight candidness of the photo adds another layer of reality to the picture. Donghyuck has a small smile while his cheek is slightly squished against your head, but he still looks as handsome as ever.

“What wish should we leave them?” He asks, picking up a golden sharpie from the table nearby, somehow already having his sunglasses back on.

“Maybe just… Congratulations on getting married?” You suggest.

“And a million other people will have the same thing. We need to be memorable.” He stresses and taps the end of the sharpie against his head. “What do you wish for Lucas and Yuqi?”

“I wish…” You think about it for a moment, “For them to have a lifetime of memories that they can share until the very end.” You nod.

“Oh?” Donghyuck looks at you, “When did you become a poet?” He asks as he writes that down at the bottom of the first picture.

“I’ve always been like this. I’m glad you just now figured it out.” You reply sarcastically, to which Donghyuck replies back with his own sarcastic laugh. He hangs up your picture close to where Mark and Xiaojun hung up their’s, and then turns back around.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” He pushes up his sunglasses with his ring finger and thumb, walking with swagger towards the ceremony and grabbing your hand while he’s passing by.

“If you’re going to be like this at our wedding, maybe I’ll have to change my mind…”

For one today being one of the most awaited days of your life, it started out pretty regularly.

You wake up from the ringing of your alarm, get ready, and go to your classes for the day. You had breakfast before you left, and lunch right before your last class of the day. Even work was boring as usual, but nothing beat going to the store afterwards.

When you got to the aisle filled with shoes, you were first puzzled by how many options there are. So many colors and styles, you didn’t expect to be so overwhelmed and accidentally spent almost an hour just looking at every individual pair. This had to be perfect. This was going to be a memory that you thought about for the rest of your life.

You call Donghyuck when you approach your front door, he answers almost immediately.

“Hey, love, what’s up?” He yawns through the words, and you can’t help but smile as you look down at the bag in your hands.

“Oh, I was just wondering when you’ll be home.” You open the front door and shut it behind you, taking off your shoes.

“I’m right outside of our building. Did you just get home?” He asks, no doubt hearing the front door from your side of the line.

“I’ll talk to you when you get up here then, see you.” You send a kiss through the phone and abruptly end the call. If Donghyuck is right outside of the building he’ll be up to your apartment in just a few minutes.

You drop the rest of your things down at the front door and hurry into the kitchen, setting down the small white bag with a lace bow on top in the middle of the kitchen table, clearing the table of anything else. You slide into a seat at the table, fixing your clothes nervously as you hear the front door open. Not even a few seconds later, Donghyuck walks into the kitchen, his eyes moving from you to the white bag and back to you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, dead serious. Your nerves and anxiety, and maybe even some fear, must be strong enough for him to feel. You shake your head and pat the chair next to you. Donghyuck takes a seat, he came through the door so quickly that he didn’t even take his shoes or his jacket off yet.

“Open the bag.” You can’t help the excited smile and small clap of your hands as he reaches out and holds the bag. He gives you a quizzical look, but you only nod to encourage him.

Donghyuck unties the lace ribbon, looking down into the bag for a few moments. You can’t read his face and you can’t feel any emotions from him, and your anxiety grows tenfold. He reaches in and pulls out the little shoes, a light blue color with white stitching. They’re so small, they can sit in Donghuck’s hand perfectly.

“What are these?” He asks, still looking at the shoes in his hand.

“Well, they’re shoes… For babies. For our baby.”

At your reply, he does nothing. He doesn’t react at all, which only worsens your nerves and makes your leg twitch up and down as you wait for him to say something. He swallows and sets the shoes on the table, still looking at then with a blank expression.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah…” You reply, reaching out to put a hand over Donghyuck’s, “Say something.”

“I’m not sure what to say, this is very… sudden.” He tilts his head. Your stomach drops at the lack of emotion in his voice. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but it was not this stoic expression in his face. Whatever traces of a smile that you had on your lips vanishes and you grip his hand tighter.

“I know this is not what we had planned. I know this is kind of… not good timing, since we’re still in school and not married, yet. But this is what fate had planned for us, I guess?” You’re not sure if you’re trying to console him or convince him, but the icky feeling in your stomach tells you Donghyuck’s reaction to the situation is not good.

“Yeah, fate did us real good.” Donghyuck replies sarcastically and you drop your hands from his, resting them in your lap. You can see the tears forming in his eyes even when he tries to look away from you, and you can feel the fear that’s boiling and overflowing inside him.

“I know you’re scared, I’m scared too. But we can get through this to—” You’re suddenly cut off by Donghyuck standing up abruptly.

“I’m not scared. I’m worried.” He rubs his face with his hands. “I’m worried that I won’t be able to support this kid. I’m worried I won’t be able to be here for you through it all. I’m so worried I’m going to end up like my father that I feel like it’s going to eat me alive.” He runs his hands through his hair, pulling his head back as he looks at the ceiling and paces around the kitchen.

“I never knew your father, but from what you told me, you’re nothing like him.” You stand up too, your legs feeling like jello.

“No, you don’t understand. What if I say something wrong and ruin this kid’s life like my father did to me? What if I can’t find a job after we graduate? Are you going to support all three of us? I can’t let you live like my mom did, it was too hard to watch back then and it’ll be even harder to watch now.” He suddenly stops, not giving you a chance to speak as he looks from you, to the little shoes, and back to you. “I can’t.”

“You… can’t what?” There’s panic rising in your voice as he shakes his head and backs away.

“I can’t be here, not around you or this baby. I won’t be a good father.” He turns and walks out of the kitchen, leaving you standing dumbfounded with tears brimming in your eyes. You move to the front door, watching at Donghyuck’s shaking hands pick up his keys and wallet.

“Are you leaving me? Right now?” He doesn’t look at you and he doesn’t answer, opening the door, “Wait!” You cry out. He stops, his shoulders tense and his hand clenching the doorknob.

“What about that promise you made me? Huh? You said that it’s not just a ‘you’ or a ‘me’ now. It’s an ‘us.’ You said you’ll do everything you can to not hurt us.” You ask, recalling the promise Donghyuck made back when you two were young college students, and a promise he has repeated and vowed to you over and over again every time your relationship got into a rough patch.

“I think… that what I’m doing is what’s best for us. It’ll be better if I wasn’t here. ___...” He looks back at your teary eyed figure with one last look of regret, “I love you. I’m so sorry.” And with that, he closes the door, leaving you all alone in your cold and dark apartment.

You jumped off of the bridge. You jumped off a while ago, actually, but the fall took longer than you expected. You thought Donghyuck would be there to catch you at the bottom, but he’s nowhere to be seen now. The fall was peaceful and enjoyable, a soft limbo between making the hardest decision in your life and the ultimate consequence of that decision. The fall was long and made you feel faux comfort, so when you reached the very end, it ended up hurting a lot worse. You knew jumping off of a bridge would kill you, so why did you jump?

You’re not sure how long you stand by the front door, but it’s long enough that the sun sets outside and the room turns dark. You stare at the door, waiting for Donghyuck to come back. You wait for the door to open and for him to run through, hugging you and whispering that he’ll be here for you. You can only walk up to the door and slide down onto your knees, your forehead pressed against the cool wood as you wait.

Tears run down your cheeks silently, your eyes red and your head hurts. You keep your forehead pressed against the door for the whole night, waiting for him to come back. You wait, and wait, and wait. Donghyuck never comes back.

Your heart rips open from pain, it feels like it’s bleeding onto the floor in front of you. Your mind is numb from any other emotion, your body is cold from sitting on the floor, but you can’t get yourself to stand up. That’s when you realize, this is it. This is how Donghyuck hurts you.

What a sick and twisted way for fate to finally serve up her plan. You almost forgot who Donghyuck is supposed to be; the one who loves you, and the one who hurts you the most.

— read epilogue here

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

[dontshootmespence]

Through It All

Part 33

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 2,212

Warnings: Edging, orgasm denial, panty kink, tongue fucking, fingering, handjob, cum, subspace, throat fucking.

A/N: The next entry for @cm-kinkbingo​ run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt​. This fulfills my panty kink square.

With three rapidly growing children, your dynamic is much different than it was when you met, but it remains, in ever-evolving ways. Charlotte is somehow just over three years old now (the time has seriously flown by), running around the apartment like a twister in the Midwest. Blake and Morgan are six months old. And now the apartment is feeling especially small, so although scary, and another big step in your little world, you and Spencer start to look at houses about a half hour outside the city.

Spencer chooses your outfits, down to the lingerie, every single morning, ensuring that you feel some sense of his dominance every day. Today, he chose nude lace for underneath your jeans and green tank top.

Since you have a day off and Spencer’s only class is later tonight, you decide to take the kids to the park, and invite Ai and Kyle to come visit with the twins. Now seasoned parents, you manage to get all three of the kids and yourselves ready to go in about an hour.

Ai and Kyle will be able to meet you in 30 minutes and the park is only a few blocks away, so you sit Charlotte in front of the TV and put the twins in their playpen to watch Spongebob for a few minutes. “They’re occupied for a minute,” Spencer whispers, grabbing your hand and leading you behind the kitchen counter. “Come here, I have an idea.”

Charlotte is reveling in Spongebob and the babies are playing with each other, so they are none the wiser when Spencer dips his hands into your jeans and above the lace he picked out. “I was hoping we might have some time today. So, when we have a few minutes, I’m going to edge this pretty little pussy of yours. Above the lace of course. If you can keep yourself from coming, I’ll repay you after they go to sleep tonight.”

“You’re on, Sir.”

Spencer laughs against your neck as he slips his pointer finger between your folds over the lace. The friction sends an immediate shiver through your body. The television fades into the background as Spencer works his magic. With practiced precision, he switches between rubbing against you and tapping your clit, which leaves you clasping your legs together in desperation within minutes. The minute Charlotte turns around and asks about the park, he pulls his hand away.

With a frustrated smile, you gather the kids up and head out, your mind spinning with what’s to come later.

---

As soon as you get to the park, Charlotte runs toward the slide, squealing with happiness as her soft brown curls bounce up and down. She looks so much like Spencer. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ai and Kyle approaching, eyes brimming with tears at how much the twins have grown. They’ve seen them in pictures and videos, but this is the first time since they were born that they’ve had time in their schedules to see them. “They’re so big already,” Ai says softly, brushing Blake’s hair out of his eyes. All of you, even Ai and Kyle, take turns playing with Charlotte on the playground. She’s the captain of a pirate ship, but makes all of you take turns steering the boat.

While one of you plays with Charlotte, the other three have the chance to catch up, learning all about how the young couple is fairing during their first semesters in college. “We don’t sleep. Pulling all-nighters all the time,” Kyle laughs, bouncing Morgan up and down on his knee. “But I’d imagine you guys are in the same boat.”

“Absolutely,” you laugh. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Kyle is holding Morgan, Ai has Blake and Spencer is steering Charlotte’s pirate ship, allowing you to sit back and sigh contentedly. This is your unique little family. And it’s your everything.

---

After Ai and Kyle give the twins and Charlotte a hug and kiss goodbye, you all head your separate ways, with promises to get together for more park time soon. As soon as you get home, Blake and Morgan are in desperate need of a nap, and Charlotte had so much fun at the park that she decides she needs to “relax” and asks for a cup of apple juice on the couch.

With them once again preoccupied, Spencer pulls you into the bathroom, pushing your jeans down just below your knees so he can lick at you above the lace. Little kitten licks, teasing at the edges of the lace near your skin make you into a whimpering mess within minutes. But instead of giving you that sweet relief, he pulls away, chiding you for how wet you are. “By tonight, these panties are going to be disgustingly soaked. And once the kids are asleep, I’m going to rip them off, shove them into your mouth and fuck you senseless. How does that sound?”

“Amazing, Sir. I can’t wait.”

“Good, that means unless you have to use the bathroom, no wiping away that sweet evidence. I want it soaking through the lace by tonight.”

You feel the heat flush between your legs and pull your jeans up before returning outside to Charlotte passed out on the couch. Throughout the remainder of the day, you do the dishes, the laundry, and clean up the myriad of toys that have taken over the apartment floors like a minefield, edging you twice more in the process.

After feeding Blake and Morgan, Spencer pulls you away from starting dinner to bring you in the bedroom one more time before he has to leave for class. When he slides his tongue over the dampening lace, he moans. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper, peeking out from where you stand just near the bedroom door to keep an eye on Charlotte. “Can I ask you to do something for me, Sir?” You whimper just as his eyes lock with yours.

Nodding, he stands up and edges you the rest of the way with his fingers. “What do you need, love?”

“I’m feeling especially slutty today, Sir. I was wondering if I could make you come right now, into my panties, so I can keep you with me while you’re in class.”

Spencer makes quick work of undoing his pants and pulling your hand toward his hardening cock. Stroking, you arch your neck into his open mouthed kisses, quietly encouraging him to mark you with his teeth. Once he’s on the edge, he takes control, making himself come as you pull your panties away from your body and bite your lip. “Such a disgusting little slut,” he laughs. “I’ll be home in a few hours. Keep yourself nice and edged for me. Every hour or so. Don’t come. I’ll know.”

He says it all in clipped tones before redoing his pants, running out of the room and giving Charlotte a kiss goodbye. “Take care of mommy, okay?”

“I will!” She says, waving with all her might.  

---

With Spencer out, you change the babies and return to making dinner for you, Charlotte, and Spencer for when he gets home. You quickly boil some pasta and heat up some sauce on the side. Charlotte likes dipping the noodles into it.

Once their bellies are full, you set them all up on the floor and allow Charlotte to take the lead. She’s very much into playing pretend right now and it’s amazing to watch how her little mind works. “Hold Morgan and Blake,” she instructs. “I’m a bus driver.”

“Oh really?” You ask. “Where are you taking us?”

“School, of course!” She takes her seat in front of you and pretends to drive. Eventually, she decides you’re all in a castle and she has to come rescue you before the babies get cranky again. “Can I help?” She asks when you get up to change their diapers again.

“Absolutely! Follow me.”

She pads behind you happily, entertaining Blake while you change Morgan, who’s now screeching. But once she has a clean diaper she’s good to go again. And Blake was apparently only crying because Morgan was, because his diaper is clean. “Twin thing, huh?”

He looks at you quizzically before farting. “Ewww,” Charlotte laughs. “Babies are gross.”

“But they’re cute,” you reply. “Right?”

Charlotte nods and asks if they can go play again, so you carry them out as she puts her stuffed animals in a circle and tells you where to play the babies. “I’m driving the long car.” She gestures with her arms.

“A limo? The babies are in a limo? Why?”

“Why not?”

“You know what, I didn’t even think of that,” you laugh. “Can you keep an eye on them while I go to the bathroom?”

“Yup!” She gives them both a toy to keep them preoccupied while she takes her place as the driver.

Slipping into the bathroom, you quickly edge yourself. You lost track of time, so this is the only time you’ll be able to do it before Spencer gets home, but you don’t think he’ll mind. Just as you’re about to come, you hear him at the front door, rip your hand away and wash your hands. “Good class?”

He leans in to kiss you. “Yea, great one actually. What’s Charlotte doing?”

“Driving the babies in a limo.”

“Why?”

“She said why not.”

Spencer laughs. “She’s got a point. Have you been doing as I asked?”

“Just now, I lost track of time. But don’t worry, as soon as they’re asleep, you can use my holes in whatever way you want.”

“Fuck, I love you.” He smiles.

---

Due to her midday nap, Charlotte has no desire to sleep, making it especially difficult to get her to stay down for the night, but after Spencer reads to her for nearly an hour, she drifts off. Blake and Morgan are already asleep, completely tuckered out from their big day.

In the hallway, Spencer holds you close, taking a moment to breathe.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Yea.” His eyes soften when his eyes lock with yours. “Just taking a minute to realize how lucky I am.”

Cradling his face, you kiss him softly and walk backward toward the bedroom. “We’ve built a pretty amazing little life for ourselves haven’t we?”

“Perfect. More than I ever thought possible.”

He tickles your sides, turning you into a giggly mess within seconds. In an instant, his eyes go from soft to dark, storm-filled, as he eyes your body hungrily.

Without even being told, you strip and get on all fours on the bed. Spencer picks up your panties and once again teases you for how wet they are. “Open up.”

The panties taste of you both. It’s not the most pleasant feeling having them in your mouth, but knowing how desperate you look and how much Spencer loves it that makes you want to keep them in. As he climbs onto the bed behind you, you allow yourself to zone out, sucking on the lace as he slips himself into your sodden heat.

The squelching sound makes your eyes roll back, your hips doing the same in search of the friction you so desperately crave. “Just relax,” he says softly. “Melt into the bed.”

Each time he speaks, you feel yourself being pulled down into that sweet oblivion. He thrusts in and out of you rhythmically, laughing as he watches your wetness slip down your thighs. “Such a little slut.”

“Yours,” you mumble in reply. It’s the only word you know.

Spencer leans forward, pulling the panties out of your mouth and dropping to the floor. He pushes you toward the edge of the bed, so your head is hanging over. “Now keep that mouth open while I fuck you.”

He’d positioned you in front of the mirror, so now you can see yourself, mouth slack and eyes glazed over as he thrusts behind you.

Groaning, Spencer grabs your hands and holds them behind your back with one hand, using the other to scratch your ass. “Gonna make you come around my cock. What are you?”

“Yours.” You sigh again.

As a string of saliva makes its way to the floor, you tremble around him, your eyes rolling back while Spencer holds you steady. You’re still shaking as Spencer turns you over and gets off the bed to stand over your head. “Open.”

Your mouth falls open of its own accord, welcoming the feeling of his thickness on your tongue. Bit by bit, he slides into your mouth, taking it slowly because he knows you’re not in the right space to take care of yourself. He has to do it for you. “Little wider, love.”

Again, your body complies, opening your mouth wider as he slides all the way down. “Such a good girl,” he chokes out. “Can you feel this?”

He places his hand on your throat, where he can feel himself thrusting.

Moaning in reply, he lets go, coming thick into your throat. When he pulls out, you smile. “Yours,” you whisper.

Gathering you into his arms, he cleans you both up and sits next to you in bed, combing his hand through your hair as he replies. “Yours.”

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn​ @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid​ @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1​ @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid​ @lazynoodledragon​ @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97​ @grace-superpowers​ @softestlavender​ @ssa-dr-ladylock​ @drprettyboy​ @patricks-fabulous-face​ @tearosaria​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @marvels-gurl​ @gublergirls​

[jjofalltrades]

ARYA x GENDRY WEEK : Family Traditions

@aryaxgendryweek

Thank You - 

According to school gossip, the new student was from Flea Bottom, who gained enrollment through a scholarship. People whispered about the patches on his uniform trousers and his shaggy black hair. Mr. Lannister placed him in the seat next to her when Joffrey complained about the smell. The first thing she noticed was the stitch on his blue blazer because it was a slightly different shade. The old lion had it out for the boy, scrutinizing him for being ill-prepared for his first day. It was a crime; one punishable had the teacher been a peer. No one appeared keen on interfering until she scooted closer and offered they share her textbook.

At the end of class, Arya handed him the book to take home for the night. Reluctant, he stared between her and it. As if it were a trick, he snatched the book and then rushed out. With his head bowed, he charged into the crowded hallway, much like a frightened bull. The other students rushed to move out of his way to make room, wasting more time on gossip.

They ran―well, she ran―into one another in the same hallway the next morning. The group of girls behind her scattered the moment his nostrils flared. When they were alone, he shoved the book at her, nodded, then stormed off in the opposite direction. The brunette thought him peculiar until a piece of paper stole her attention. Curious, Arya pulled the torn newspaper clipping and unfolded it to find broad, bold strokes written over the parchment.

Thank You

"Arya," she announced before class the same day. The new boy glanced around in question, which made her giggle. "Yes, you. I figured if we're going to be study partners this semester, we should at least get introductions out of the way, don't you think?" She held out a hand. "I'm Arya, and you are...?"

He swallowed with some difficulty, staring at her hand as if it was some foreign alien object. When he did lift his gaze to her face, a pair of the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. That was saying something given the Tully genes among her siblings. "Gendry," the boy whispered and cautiously shook her hand.

"Welcome to King's Landing Prep, Gendry."

Arya placed the textbook at the edge of his desk to share again today.  She only let go of his hand once she slid in the seat next to him, deciding not to push her luck too soon.

Check Yes or No - 

Every day of school for the last two years, Arya and Gendry made it a habit to pass notes between classes. It was an easy and simple way to brighten the other's mood or keep up-to-date with what happened throughout the day. Sophmore prom was around the corner, and she knew exactly how she wanted to ask her best friend. If they waited for Gendry to make a move, they'd be stuck in the friendzone until one of them died. Besides, modern problems required modern solutions, and she wasn't afraid to flip the tables on proper social etiquette.

Since they didn't share a lunch period this semester, she bribed one of the lunch ladies to slip the invitation on his tray with his favorite sandwiches. He would have a few hours to process the request and have a response by Chemistry. Though, a public romantic gesture by their lockers before then wouldn't be a bad idea, either. But, of course, Gendry was not one for anything that would draw attention.

A bundle of nerves followed Arya throughout the day until he quietly sat beside her at the lab table. Not a single word was spoken, no note, no sign. She wasn't the type to doubt her actions, but he didn't even acknowledge her! That had to be a bad sign, right? When the bell dismissed them, her shoulders sagged in disappointment. Gendry slid his textbook in front of her, half of the invitation stuck out. Excitedly, Arya ripped the invitation open. Neither option had a mark as expected; yet, he had added choices of his own at the bottom.

Prom? Check Yes or No

Friends or Couple?

She glanced up at him to see that he was every bit as nervous. Arya pulled out a red pen and circled the second choice with a dramatic twirl. The tips of Gendry's ears burned red, and he tried to contain the smile from reading her response. He leaned forward, taking the red pen, and added a checkmark on top of the first choice above. After, he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and tried to run off.

"Excuse you," she caught the tail of his blazer and tugged him back. Her new boyfriend swung around, confused by the offense. Arya grinned, stood on tiptoes, and pecked him on the cheek. Heat spread from his ears down to his cheeks. "Walk your girlfriend to the next class?"

Gendry's smile broke from its usual tight-lip style, the corner of his eyes and mouth crinkling. He was a handsome brood, but she decided this was her favorite expression. Their fingers entwined, and together they became the school's latest and hottest gossip.

Marry Me - 

"Ah, this is where you ran off," a pair of strong arms wrapped around her middle. The sudden heat kept the chilly air at bay while they stood on the empty balcony. "Isn't there a rule against the guest of honor disappearing during their party?"

The music and laughter from the large crowd continued despite Arya's presence. Now that the speeches were over and the cake cut, no one cared. Let them drink, dance, and be merry. She mustered enough energy to caress his exposed forearms where he'd rolled the sleeves to his black dress shirt. "Our party," she corrected and leaned into his chest with a heavy sigh. "Exhausted, to be honest. Should have known mother had something planned. Had I known, I'd have skipped town after the graduation ceremony."

"We'd have skipped town," Gendry squeezed gently. "No way in all seven hells I would survive this much attention without you."

She smirked. "You've gotten better. Everyone enjoyed your speech today. It looked like your mother cried."

"That's cause she got the university's latest bill," he chuckled until she elbowed him. Gendry kissed her shoulder. "Nah, mum's happy for me."

It was no secret that many people doubted the boy from Flea Bottom for the past decade. Determination and wits helped him prove them wrong. Arya turned in his hold and wrapped her arms around his neck. She raised on her tiptoes. "I am, too, you know. Proud of you."

He held her close, lifting her just barely off the ground to make the innocent kisses more comfortable. Something might have started between them if she hadn't groaned. Scared that he hurt her, Gendry pulled away.

"I was thinking of all those gifts we'll have to try and fit into our apartment," Arya almost whined.

Gendry relaxed and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You haven't even opened mine yet."

She lightly slapped at his chest. "We said no presents!"

"Well, I already had this one. Tough luck."

From behind his back, he revealed a rectangular box wrapped in an old newspaper. "Where did you have that hiding." she ignored it for a moment to lean in and investigate how he could've hidden anything for that long. He rolled his eyes and swatted her away.

"Just open the damn thing."

Arya eyed him suspiciously, then eagerly ripping the paper. "I remember the first note you gave me in high school," she giggled and handed him the loose paper. "Mr. Lannister's textbook? What-" Something stuck out from the pages of the book.

When she went to open it rather carelessly, an item dropped out from the middle. Gendry bent to capture it before it touched the ground. Arya's attention went back to the folded piece of paper and opened it to reveal one last question.

Marry Me?

Tears prickled her eyes as she gazed beyond the book to see Gendry still on his knee. The item in his hand a ring for her."I meant to propose two years ago, but then you suggested we go for our Master's Degree. We promised no big decisions until...and then we..." He started to trip over his words again as he used to when they were teenagers. "I love you," this time with more conviction. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember. There isn't a whole lot I'm certain about in life, except for you. Marry M-"

Book forgotten, Arya lept into him until the momentum pushed them to the ground. She began to pepper Gendry with kisses, punctuated by a tearful "yes" for each one.

Grandma - 

This year for the holidays, the couple knew exactly how to break the news to their families. Each mother received a blank scrapbook with materials to fill the pages as time passed. As mothers were when older, both smiled gratefully at the gifts and started to set them aside. However, Gendry cleared his throat.

"We have the first page complete," Arya told them and gestured to the yellow and grey books.

Cat and Maria glanced at one another, curious to see if the other had any clue. They opened the cover and stared down. The room fell silent as those around them tried to sneak a peek at it. Cat gasped and reached for Maria's hand, then the screaming began.

The couple separated long enough to be congratulated by their family members. Rickon, who had not caught on to the excitement, picked up his mother's scrapbook.

Grandma

Below the colorful title was the ultrasound picture. His mouth formed an 'O' shape.

Good Morning, Mommy. Good Night, Daddy - 

Elyana wrote her parents a note every day since she was old enough to hold a crayon. The tradition started because of her dad, who wrote to her mom while she slept. They had opposite work schedules in the early years, using what methods they could to make the distance more manageable. Dad would wake up with Elyana in the morning and got them ready for the day. Their notes were placed in mom's lunchbox in the fridge. At night, before mom went to work, and dad came home, the girls would return the gesture.

Good Morning, Mommy. Good Night, Daddy.

Even when their schedules changed again, and they were allowed to be a family more than the weekends or holidays, her letters addressed them the same. It was tradition, after all. Something familiar and safe to start and end the day. But what she was most fond of was lunchtime at school, when she would open her bag and spot letters of her own. Words of encouragement, affirmations, and promises Elyana knew they'd keep.

"Did you hear about the new student?"  Her friend, Joy, leaned in and pointed across the cafeteria. "Heard they're here on scholarship."

[loveisgamex]

2yoo: Alpha!Yubin Omega!Yoohyeon HCs go! —🐺

!! the below is NOT red velvet !!

< 2yoo is my fave dreamcatcher ship so uh. feel free to pass those my way if you happen to have an interest <3 >

 --

helo anon, of course of course!! uH you asked for hcs and... i don’t know what this ended up being ?? it’s like half a fic ?? i had been thinking about a college au, so these have ended up from that perspective. i hope this still fills the request, but if there’s any interesting questions you’re curious about, please feel free to send a follow up !! c:

> yubin and yoohyeon meet in their freshman year in a gen ed class. yoohyeon got lost and rushed across campus, showing up just in time for her first class. thankfully she spots an open seat on the end of the row, perhaps a bit closer to the front than she prefers, but a blessing as it's easy to slide into while most of the lecture hall is full up

she doesn't register who she sat down next to until she inhaled a deep breath of relief. while alphas and omegas are required by school policy to take suppressants, it doesn't erase scents and yoohyeon gets a lungful of magnolia and musk, both elegant and grounding. she manages to choke ungracefully on her own spit in her surprise, and her coughing causes the alpha to turn to her and ask if she's okay. its embarrassing, but the girl's face is impassive, finger tucked into her book as though her priority is to get through a few more pages before class starts. so yoohyeon ignores the blush rising on her cheeks to give her a quick nod and unpack her belongings.

 > yoohyeon ends up sitting next to the girl for the rest of the semester. she's quiet, and rarely speaks to yoohyeon. she has a new book with her every day, and once class starts, takes fastidious although scrawling notes in a surprisingly cutesy panda themed notebook. the semester might've passed without yoohyeon ever trying to speak to her. but the girl was kind in her own way, picking up yoohyeon's pens and pencils when she knocked them off the far too small desk, or making sure she didn't leave her sweater behind. in some ways it felt dismissive, the quick "heys" to grab her attention and almost careless returns of yoohyeon's items. but given that the girl seemed to rarely seemed to look away from her books or her notes, yoohyeon thought the girl would have to be kind to be paying enough attention to yoohyeon to notice.

 > eventually she got brave enough to start greeting her in the morning and starting up small conversations. surprisingly, once yoohyeon started a conversation, the girl would continue it easily enough. she learned the girl's name was yubin, and that she was in the music department, and that they were the same age. at first, yubin's finger would keep her place in her book as though she was waiting to get back to reading. but eventually she started sliding a bookmark into place when yoohyeon arrived, her hand resting on the closed cover.

 > it didn't take long after that for them to become close. yoohyeon would invite yubin out to do things, and the smaller girl would protest but show up early. yoohyeon noticed that they got quite a bit of attention off-campus; it was obvious to any onlooker that she was an unbonded omega walking freely with an unbound alpha. while it wasn't unheard of in these days, there was still plenty of people who would consider it scandalous, if not actually dangerous. but while it made yoohyeon nervous at first, it was almost easy to forget yubin was an alpha. she was quiet, unassuming, easy to miss. she didn't get aggressive, even being slower to anger than yoohyeon herself, nor was she pushily protective and coddling of yoohyeon as an omega as many alphas often were. instead she was reminded that yubin wasn't simply a beta by the solid, steadying hand at her side when she tripped, the way yubin retrieved dropped items and wished for sweaters or blankets or snacks without yoohyeon's asking, even if she teased yoohyeon the entire time. and most of all, it was her scent, the richness of which never faded for yoohyeon even as they spent more and more time together. her scent which, when it caught yoohyeon off guard, made her heart clench

 > alphas and omegas weren't allowed to be roommates per university rules, and so in their sophomore year, yoohyeon's roommate was a cheery psychology major beta named gahyeon. she didn't seem to think anything of yoohyeon's being an omega, mostly just complaining when yoohyeon overslept and left her alarm going off for ages. yoohyeon thought it was rich that gahyeon would complain about her sleeping habits when the freshman had a habit of returning to their room to nap between classes, causing yoohyeon to accidentally wake her up more than a few times.

yubin had a single as a sophomore and honors student. yoohyeon took full advantage, shifting her study sessions from the library to yubin's bed. she'd spread her materials across the covers while yubin studied at her desk, large over the ear headphones blocking out noise.

it was easy to accidentally fall asleep surrounded by the familiar comforting scent on top of yubin's clean, neatly made bed (unlike her own, unmade and more likely than not to have handhelds or lens cases hiding in her blankets). she'd wake up with a panda tucked under her head, her books shoved aside if not having fallen on the floor entirely, to yubin shaking her shoulder with a disapproving look on her face. (what yoohyeon didn't realize was that yubin, who otherwise was sensitive about others' scents in her personal space, let her claim the bed as her workspace and even nap because yoohyeon's spicy sweet scent, like cinnamon and honey, was a secret guilty pleasure.)

in some ways it was nicer to work while yubin settled in at the foot of the bed with her book, or phone, or notebook, having finished her own schoolwork while yoohyeon napped.

 > they moved in together as roommates off-campus in their junior year. yoohyeon's parents protested at first, but they had gotten to know yubin through yoohyeon's video calls home and the occasional weekend dinner together and decided to trust yoohyeon's judgement. (besides, wouldn't it be safer for their girl to be with a known alpha than off campus alone?)

yoohyeon's common spots were either at her pc, finally set up in her room properly, playing league online with her pal siyeon or on the sofa in front of the large screen tv she had set up with all her game consoles. yubin spent most of her time in her room studying or writing but would also come out and join yoohyeon on the couch, curling up with a book against an armrest.

yoohyeon didn't want to admit it, but she found it distracting. yubin was very respectful, almost to a fault. while yoohyeon sprawled across the couch carelessly while gaming, yubin would tuck herself neatly onto a single cushion, never touching yoohyeon. in general, yubin never pressured her or pulled the alpha card on her. but sometimes, yoohyeon wished the respectful distance was a little less, the distance between them weighing on her mind.

it wasn't as though yubin was never affectionate, but yoohyeon held the rare moments where yubin would absently rest her head against yoohyeons arm, or crook her chin over yoohyeon's shoulder dearly. but living together seemed to finally let yubin become less careful, less strictly observant of boundaries, and more and more yoohyeon found it more common for yubin to drape an arm over yoohyeon's leg or lean into her as they watched tv.

yoohyeon could smell the change in the apartment. while her own scent didn't register for herself, she could smell how yubin's scent, even when she stuck her head into yubin's room, was sweeter than she remembered. her parents commented on her scent when she arrived home for winter break, telling her she still smelled like yubin.(she ignored the question behind their comments.)

her scent had almost returned to normal by the end of break, and while she had been happy to see her parents and pie again, the difference was like a constant itch, leaving her feeling restless and unsettled. she couldn't stop herself from sweeping yubin into a hug upon her return to their apartment, and the smaller girl let herself be embraced without protest. it seemed to be the turning point; after that, yubin didn't seem to be trying to keep her distance.

 > however, one thing still killed her-- yubin's habit of absently biting things. it seemed to be some sort of auto pilot tic; yoohyeon had seen her bite the back of her own knuckle, her phone, bags of snacks, even the trigger button on yoohyeon's controller during cutscenes when she'd finally convinced yubin to try a game with her. while that was bad enough, yoohyeon's gaze seeming to zero in on the sight without her intent, yoohyeon herself ended up being among the things yubin would absently bite, whether her arm, or hand, or elsewhere.

 > one time yoohyeon and yubin were waiting to go out, standing in siyeon's apartment as the older alpha rushed around her apartment to gather her things. yubin had claimed a place on yoohyeon's shoulder, arms wrapped around yoohyeon's closest arm. yoohyeon was scrolling through her phone when she felt the yubin's teeth gently press into her shoulder, then yubin's nose, then a second bite further up her shoulder. she stopped registering what was on her phone as yubin moved closer and closer to the typical location of a mating mark. she didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until siyeon re-entered the room, finally ready to go. yoohyeon thought it strange that siyeon didn't comment. the twisting in her stomach didn’t leave even after yubin pulled away, finally letting go of yoohyeon's arm after they'd left the apartment. it was the day that first made her realize that yubin as her alpha was something she might want

(yubin kept it to herself when yoohyeon didn't say anything, but she was disappointed and concerned at herself for not realizing and stopping her reaction to siyeon's scent.)

 > the suppressants might keep her from going into heat, but yoohyeon can always tell when she would've had one because she finds herself creating nests in the apartment, the couch suddenly having an abundance of blankets and pillows. among them often end up yubin's hoodies, or blankets yubin has left on the couch. it's embarrassing, and she stealthily returns them once the compulsion passes.

(yubin can tell even before yoohyeon because her scent still gets more potent. yoohyeon hasn't seemed to have made the connection, but yubin starts leaving the blankets she uses on the couch instead of taking them back into her room because she's noticed how often her things disappear into the nests. as a result, yubin's blankets often make the base of yoohyeon's nests.

 > (despite the suppressants, yubin can tell when she would've had her rut because she feels irritable and yet craves physical affection. she usually spends the couple of days in her room safely isolated, mostly listening to music and wrapping herself in blankets she's pulled from the couch that have yoohyeon's scent. she tries not to think about the fact that her roommate's scent help ease her discomfort.)

--

i’ll stop here because this is the length of a full drabble already oops TT i hope you enjoy !!

x

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch3

In the spirit of experimentation I tried out a different art programme that was recommended to me.  I’m not sure I’m a fan and it took me far too long to work out the basic functions (most of which I still haven’t figured out) but it does have cool star stamps.

Thank you to @willow-salix​ for putting up with my wobbles over this fic and for all her help, editing and suggestions.

Earlier parts: One, Two

Chapter Three

John tiptoed back to the room he had been allocated to share with Alan, his head buzzing with ideas.  Before, everything his father had mentioned had seemed hypothetical but with all four of them in the room together it looked like this plan could be more than just a pipedream.  Their father obviously thought they had the skills between them.  With all the potential operatives together the discussions had continued long into the night.  A rescue organisation with first responder, transporter, space rocket and communications satellite.  

For him it would be the chance to live amongst the stars.  A career in space was something he had been striving towards.  Every extra credit course.  Every summer camp and internship.  Each had been a steppingstone towards his dream of working for the World Space Agency.  And then his father had dropped the bombshell that there could be an alternative.  He would still need to complete a training course at Tracy College, as would Scott and Virgil, but he was being offered a golden opportunity albeit one that would take several years to come to fruition.  Never usually one to give in to flights of fantasy John found himself daydreaming.

The door latch clicked closed and John was half way to his bed before he realised anything was amiss.  The room was dark and still.  

Too still.

There was no restless turning of a sleeper disturbed by his return.  No heavy breathing of a brother at rest.  The room was silent and disconcertingly empty.  

He didn’t panic.  John had never understood the point of panicking.  It rarely achieved anything and was often a hindrance.  Panicking was something other people did.  John didn’t panic, he used logic; he found it much more effective.    

Alan’s bed was not only empty of his missing sibling, it was also bereft of its coverings.  The mattress stripped of its duvet and pillows.  The floor length curtain fluttered slightly and a gentle breeze broke the heavy stillness of the room.  John stepped over to investigate.

Alan was stretched out on his back on the balcony, the duvet forming a barrier between the teen and the hard planking.  At first John thought he was asleep.  The room itself was stuffy and he could see the appeal of retreating to the balcony even if it made more sense to just adjust the air conditioning.  He was debating whether or not to wake Alan up and move him back inside when a voice spoke from the floor.

“Finally finished then?”

John chose to ignore the question.  Jeff had made it clear that the plans were not to be discussed with the youngest two until things had progressed further.  There was still a lot that could go awry, not least espionage, and secrecy was a pivotal concern.  

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that.  Never had the chance to see the southern stars before.  I was hoping we could look at them together.  Thought you might finally have time now.”

There was an accusatory edge to Alan’s voice and John felt a stab of guilt.  Ever since he had got back from college Alan had been asking him for an astronomy session but there had always been some excuse.  His college work.  Meetings with Dad.  Or sometimes just wanting to be alone as he missed the freedom and solitude of his own apartment.  Alan had latched on like a shadow.  He’d even protested against having to share a room with Alan for this Olympics trip even if Scott and Virgil were also having to share, the penthouse apartment not being equipped with enough rooms for them to each have their own.  All his little brother wanted to do was spend time with him.  John realised he hadn’t even given the younger boy a chance.

“Budge over.”

Alan shuffled across on the duvet, making room for John to stretch out beside him.  They lay close, side by side.  Both were of a similar build and their lithe forms fitted easily on the impromptu mattress.  Alan was still several growth spurts shy of reaching his full potential but it looked like he too, as had happened to all his brothers except Gordon, would one day exceed 6 foot.  Under the stars they both loved the similarities were more marked than their differences.

“Seen anything interesting?”

“You missed Jupiter but to be honest the light pollution is almost as bad as L.A.  I’d love to head out to the dark sky reserve and take a proper look but I guess this this will have to do.  I don’t know when I’ll next be in this hemisphere again.  Even Crux is hard to make out against the glow.”

John followed the arm of his pointing sibling and could just make out the constellation that was one of the defining features of the southern hemisphere.  Alan was right, the light pollution of the city meant the stars were barely visible.  John had to bite his tongue over one thing though, if Jeff’s plan came to fruition then the southern skies could soon become the norm for Alan.

The pointing arm began moving about.

“So if Crux is there.  And Centaurus is there.”  There was a pause as Alan consulted his mental map and made a few calculations.  “Then home must be over….there.”

“You’ve worked out where L.A. is?”  He made his own rapid calculations and came up with a similar answer.  He couldn’t help but be slightly impressed.  Alan had always shown a similar interest in the stars to himself and it looked like this interest hadn’t waned.

“Well I wouldn’t trust it as accurate.  I just like to test myself whenever I go somewhere new.  I was thinking of Kansas though.  L.A. isn’t really home.  Never has been.”  There was a pause then, barely whispered, “You guys aren’t there.”  

John looked across but Alan was still staring resolutely up at the sky.  He knew he didn’t associate Los Angeles with home.  He had left for Harvard just before the move to California.  To him the apartment in the city was just somewhere to visit between semesters.  But surely Alan should have been more settled by now.  He had lived in the city for several years with Dad and Gordon.  

He thought back to his latest visit.  With the exception of the bedrooms the apartment looked like a show home; devoid of personality.  It was a place where individuals coexisted rather than somewhere that a family lived.  It was a stark contrast to the slightly run down farmhouse with the mismatched furniture collected over the years.  The marks on the walls that each told a story; the stain from when Alan got hold of Virgil’s paints, the dent in the doorframe from when Scott threw a baseball inside.  The apartment had no such stories.  No memories.  Alan was right, it wasn’t a home.  

“I doubt we can make it out to the dark sky reserve, the schedule is pretty tight, but if you want we take a trip out to the mountains when we get back.  Take the telescope.”

“Really?”  The eagerness was barely disguised.  

“Sure.  I’ll still have a couple of weeks before I have to head back east.  I’m sure we can wrangle a few days away.”

They lay side by side staring up at unfamiliar skies until they drifted off to sleep, lulled by the perpetual murmur of the city below them.

xoxoxox

John awoke to the sun in his eyes and cramp in his foot.  In a moment of disorientation he couldn’t work out why his bed was so hard or the room was so bright as he clutched at the offending limb and attempted to stretch out his toes.

His startled flailing woke the figure to the side of him.  Alan stretched, bounced up off the floor, then held out a hand to his incapacitated sibling.  John grasped it gratefully and levered himself up.  The cramp might have eased but his whole body felt stiff from the unintentional slumber on the decking.  He wondered how on earth Alan was able to move about so freely.

“You want first shower?”  Alan asked as they headed back into the room.

John nodded gratefully.  He hadn’t meant to bed down under the stars and as such was still wearing his clothes from the day before.  After travelling across continents and then sleeping outside the outfit was decidedly rumpled and worse for wear.

He stepped into the en-suite and shucked the dirty clothes onto the floor.  The shower was hot and powerful, the steady stream of drops beat against his aching muscles.  He could have stayed there all morning but the sound of Alan rapping on the door reminded him that this was a shared space and there was a schedule to be adhered to.

Breakfast was a quiet affair in the lounge area with plenty of coffee to fuel the day although Alan stuck to juice and water, commenting that he couldn’t understand why they all felt the need to drink the bitter brew.  This just drew amused smirks from his elders, sure that one day he would discover the delights of the bean.  Coffee was treated with reverence by the other Tracys.  Virgil didn’t like to venture outside before his second cup.  Jeff insisted on a fresh ground beans of single origin.  Scott and John were less particular in their tastes but even they liked to start the day with a strong fix to kick start the senses.

The morning was spent pool-side watching a mixed assortment of heats and races.  Alan had the whole schedule memorised and counted down the events until Tracy four was due to take his turn in the water.  He seemed to know every statistic of every competitor and chattered away to any brother that would listen. 

At last, towards the end of the session, the men’s 200m butterfly was announced.  The family sat forward expectantly.  Gordon was tipped to do well but his heat was a difficult draw.  Both the Australian and Dutch competitors would be in the water with him and all of them had their sights set on medals.  Three medal hopefuls but only two places available in the final.  There could be no saving himself; every lap mattered.

At the sound of the gun Gordon launched himself into the water.  Five sets of eyes tracked him from above, barely daring to blink.  Five hearts thumped as the battle was fought.  Five collective breaths were released as the timing board announced what they had all thought they had seen; second place for USA.  Gordon would live to fight another day.

Emerging into the bright sunshine of early afternoon the family found themselves basking in the refreshing breeze that wafted through the Olympic Park.  The gallery had suffered from the intense heat and humidity common to swimming pools the world over.  The echoing acoustics had made the cheers of the crowd deafening and it was a relief to step back into outside world.

“Well, that’s it for today” Jeff announced to his assembled brood.  “There are some taekwondo and athletics tickets for tomorrow and then Gordon’s final is the day after.  For now though I’ve got to head back to the hotel and catch up with some work, don’t make plans for me for dinner.” 

Leaving them to sort it out amongst themselves Jeff turned and headed back to the hotel.  The brothers knew their father well enough to read between the lines.  He evidently didn’t want to be disturbed and the expectation was that they would stay away from the hotel, at least for the next few hours and preferably until nightfall.  

Scott was about assume responsibility for the group when John spoke up.

“I thought I might take Alan out to where the mountain biking is taking place.  You don’t need tickets for that.”  Alan’s eyes lit up at the prospect of spending time with his favourite available brother and watching people hurtling at speed down steep hills and over rocks.  “You two don’t need to come if it’s not your thing.” 

“You sure you’ll be ok with him?”

“Seriously Scott, we don’t need a chaperone.  Alan and I will be perfectly fine by ourselves.”  

Scott shrugged in an ‘if you’re sure’ sort of gesture.  As much as he knew Alan would love to see people risk life and limb in the name of sport he also knew it most definitely was not John’s usual choice of activity.  Still, if it got him out of an afternoon of playing sheepdog he wasn’t going to question John’s motives too deeply.  

He turned to Virgil.  “Looks like it’s you and me then.  Unless you also want to watch the mountain biking?”

“Not really.  I’d rather stay central.  Maybe head over to the marina.”

“Sounds good to me.  You’ll give me a ring if you need anything.”  John just rolled his eyes in response.

The siblings split into pairs; one set heading off to the taxis that would take them to the artificial hill course, the other set heading to the waterfront.

The harbour area was packed with visitors and a little too crowded to be comfortable.  Scott and Virgil headed away from the Olympic area, following the esplanade until the crowds thinned out.  They had had enough sporting hype for one day and were ready to just relax.  Scott’s leave was only a few days for the duration of Gordon’s events and he knew he would soon be immersed back in Air Force life.  Best make use of the opportunity for some rest and relaxation while he could.

They walked in companionable silence until, as if by mutual accord, their steps led them to a waterfront bar.  The sun was starting to dip towards the horizon but the evening was still warm and the parasols at each table gave some welcome shade.  The brothers found themselves drawn to an empty table.  They were soon comfortably settled, the ocean glittering in front of them mirroring the sparkling condensation on their beer glasses.

Scott took a deep pull and sank half his drink before Virgil had barely sipped an inch earning himself a disapproving look from the younger man.  Scott chose to ignore it.  He rarely got down time.  There were always so many responsibilities.  His squadron.  Younger brothers.  But John had taken custody of Alan and Virgil was old enough to look after himself meaning Scott could enjoy not being in loco parentis for a while.  If he chose to enjoy that freedom by drinking a little too much a little too quickly then so be it.

A second drink swiftly followed the first and the conversation flowed just as freely as the beer.  Of all the sibling bonds Scott’s and Virgil’s was probably the strongest despite them rarely getting time together any more. 

As the glasses stacked up Scott beckoned to a nearby waitress who was collecting empties from the outside tables.  He beamed at her causing the dimples in his cheeks to appear like craters.

“Hey beautiful, could we get another couple of drinks over here?  And maybe some scotch chasers?”

She nodded and Scott turned to watch her as she headed back inside, his eyes raking up and down her body.

“Put your tongue away” Virgil commented.  “You’re practically drooling.”

“Can’t a guy appreciate the finer things in life?”

“Not if it means perving over the locals.  She’s just trying to do her job.”

“I am not perving.  I’m admiring.  I thought you were meant to be the artist seeing the beauty in everything?”

They arrival of said waitress with the next round of drinks soon put an end to their argument and cause the re-emergence of the dimples.  He fixed her a look with his startling blue eyes that he knew most women found irresistible.

“Thanks.  Say, are you working late tonight?”

“Late enough.”

“Only I was hoping someone with local knowledge could help show me the sights.”

“Sorry boys.  No moonlighting as a tour guide.  It’s company policy.”  She stacked the empty glasses onto her tray and headed back inside.

“Well that shot you down.”  Virgil smirked.  “We’ve barely been here twenty four hours and already you’re trying to get laid.  Can’t you keep it in your pants for one trip?  We’re here to support Gordon, not so that you can add more notches to your bedpost.  And had you forgotten we are sharing a room?”

Scott snorted.  “So what if I fancied having a little fun, it’s not like I get much chance back at base.  The Air Force isn’t exactly awash with opportunity between postings and combat missions.  And if Dad’s plan actually happens and we’re all dragged in to it it’s not like any of us will have much of a life.”

“What do you mean ‘dragged in’?  I thought you were on board with this whole rescue business?”

“Well you thought wrong.”

By this point yet another beer had been drained, swiftly followed by the scotch.  The burn of a cheap blend hit the back of Scott’s throat with a kick.

“Seriously, what does he hope to achieve with just four of us?  All that bull crap about saving the world one family at a time.  The world already has rescue services and the World Security Patrol.  It doesn’t need us sacrificing ourselves too.”

“But surely if we can make a difference?”

“I already make a difference.  I like my life Virg and I’m good at what I do.  Dad is asking me to give up the career I’ve worked hard for just to fit his idea.  It’s not easy being a Tracy in the Air Force; everyone always has some story about Dad but I’m finally making it in my own right.  And now he’s talking like this is some foregone conclusion.”

“You’d really rather follow the orders of some Air Force brass than help save lives?  Your unit isn’t exactly a humanitarian force.  What about doing it for Mom?  He said this was her legacy.”

“Of course I want to save lives but sometimes the defence of our nation calls for a more forceful response; eliminating the few to save the many.”  

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”  This was one area where Scott and Virgil never had seen eye to eye.  Scott was proud to serve his country.  Some days though, when the intelligence was flawed or the benefits didn’t seem to justify the costs, he found himself wondering if the family pacifist had a point.

“Even if I did leave the Air Force I’d still be following orders, they would just be Dad’s orders.  I can’t see it being run by committee, can you?  And he can leave Mom out of this.  Her legacy was Dad burying himself behind a mountain of paperwork or at the bottom of a scotch bottle while we picked up the pieces.  Or have you forgotten having to juggle school work around getting the kids to swim meets and after school clubs?”

“He isn’t like that any more.”

“Ok, so there are fewer empty bottles in the recycling but there was still a massive Alan shaped hole in his plan.  You know what Dad is like when he gets his teeth into something; anything not directly necessary gets pushed to one side and that includes his own family.”  There was a drawn out sigh as the fire burnt out.  “I don’t think I’m ready to take that on again.”

Virgil knocked back his own scotch as he considered Scott’s words.  His elder brother was right; Gordon and Alan were conspicuously absent it the run down of how the organisation would operate.  Ok, Gordon wasn’t so much of an issue but Alan still had several years of school ahead of him.  He just had to trust that there was some plan in place in the background for the youngest.

He shrugged and shivered slightly as the wind changed direction and blew in off the now black ocean.  Around them tables were being wiped down and lights were being dimmed, a clear indication that it was time to call it a night.  The pair hailed a cab and rode in silence back to the hotel, each lost in their own thoughts.

[moroccosoul]

Jimi Hendrix and the Unidentified Mourner

In the summer after my first year at the University of Washington, the year of the Radical Movement, the Seattle Liberation Front and the shutdown of freeways and takeovers of campus buildings, with tear gas at demonstrations and helmeted police tech squads bashing with batons, I lived in the House of Happiness, a barren white house in a dingy area of south Seattle off Rainier. We were there for Henry, a charismatic Black 35-year-old man with a build and demeanor like the statue of David. His eyes looked deeply into you and were matched by mindful eloquence. The only “furniture” we had was a saw horse in the carpeted large main floor living room and a mattress in one of the bedrooms upstairs. We all slept curled up on the carpeted floor except for Sheila who had her own room upstairs. We were there for a therapy led by Henry of expanding consciousness, of leaving our old conditioned self behind and stepping into a whole new world of natural instinct. Henry had come from a group in Chicago named “Naturalism Inc.” They were part of the revolution that incited the riots during the Democratic Convention which led to the arrest and trial of the Chicago Seven. So Henry had “cred”.

We were just down the road from Sick Stadium, Seattle’s baseball stadium. Down the hill from our house was a discount store called “Chubby Tubby’s”. Word was announced that Jimi Hendrix would be playing at Sick Stadium. I went with my first girlfriend Judy. We sat up in the bleachers under cover while Seattle drizzle sprinkled lightly on the field beneath a gloomy grey sky watching the opening band half-heartedly. I had a couple mescaline pills that we downed. They began to kick in lightly as we went to the inside food stands during intermission. My old friend Johnny Rosenberry was there, grinning mischieviously. Friends since third grade at Sacred Heart Elementary School, we were renegade spirits. No surprise that he would be at the concert, releasing his comical laughing eyes like a Shakespearean sprite. Back in the stands, we saw the deluge of rain come spattering down on the field below. Hordes of people left, or perhaps stayed in the stands, whereas Judy and I went down to the field itself where there were about seventy or eighty of us in separate groupings with a foot of two between us. It was perhaps due to the mescaline that the rain didn’t matter. In fact it looked like thin rivulets of honey running down my arms and face and everyone around us. Hendrix came out and was at the front mic introducing what was to come. A round faced girl with long thick dark hair hoisted a watermelon up as a gift to him. Jimi bent down and took it up, and with a feigned look of awe held it to his mouth and mimed chomping into it. Then with a snarl threw the melon back. That night he played all the major classics from “Are You Experienced” up through “The Power of Love”. Then he jammed with the band, improvising wildly as lightening flashed overhead. It was a stunning nuclear blast, here in his home town. Afterwards as the rain had let up we all stumbled out onto the street, our senses reeling. I looked over and saw Jerry, a friend from our Henry sessions , someone who had become shell-shocked, probably from drugs, grinning at us while he lopped a huge banana into his mouth, appearing as if he just stepped out from the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.

Later that summer in my family house in Spokane it was in the kitchen that I heard the news. We had an inbuilt intercom system that also was a radio. The intercom was useful for the downstairs boy’s hallway when Dad wanted to yell at us to get upstairs. Mom was fixing my Dad’s lunch. The newscaster said that Jimi Hendrix had just died in London. It was a punch in the gut. I slipped a bland menthol cigarette out of my mother’s purse and retreated to the furnace room beneath the stairs. I sat in the dark numbly smoking.

It was October and time to return to Seattle for the Fall Semester at the U of W. I stayed at Larry’s apartment at the north end of the Ave. at the top facing a little park where men cruised at night. We had just the month before separated from Henry and the House of Happiness. Having enough of being broke, and the attempted rape of Sheila by Roosevelt, a lumbering homeless Black man who in drunken rage threw food including eggs against the kitchen walls, and most of all Henry’s brief imprisonment, did we decide in a group meeting by candlelight (electricity had been cut off) to go our separate ways. Sheila back to Montana, Frances to her father’s apartment on Capitol Hill, Henry to the Bay Area, and myself to Spokane, where I was to hear the Hendrix news.

Now back in Seattle and the room at the top, we listened as the radio announced a public service for Hendrix in Sick Stadium. I was all set to go. Then at the 11th hour, it was announced that the viewing was canceled, that the family was going to have a private service. Its location was to be kept secret from the public. I was crushed. I felt that I needed to be there. Hendrix had been my God, his masturbatory sexuality on stage inflamed the very core of my being. His Black bluesy subtlety took me to an inner depth of quiet genius, this rebel who smashed all barriers and was the nucleus of the hippie consciousness expanding through the universe, the ultimate proof that the world would shift and connect all peoples with the Beatles mantra “All You Need Is Love.” We were to enter the Elysian Fields, holding hands, and now the light was snuffed.

In the morning, determined to find a way, I thought “funeral homes”. The radio report had started that all people involved with the funeral service were instructed to maintain absolute secrecy. I decided to try anyway, and opened the phone book to the yellow pages listing of funeral homes in Seattle. I started off  calling one with “You’re handling the Hendrix service, aren’t you?” They hung up on me. This happened a few times. Larry had gone downstairs to the street where he had his car to drive us down to school. I was frustrated and desperate as Frances in the doorway was urging me to get moving down to the waiting car. I frantically dialed one more. This time the person answering replied “Yes, we are.” (pause) He exclaimed. “Who IS This?” I was silent. He hung up.

I had found it. In the car my mind raced. Frances and Larry were indifferent. We got to campus and I needed someone to assist me. Frances and Larry had raced off to their classes. I couldn’t call the funeral home back as they knew my voice. I saw Rochelle, a tall gawky girl with short cropped dark hair. I got her to go into a phone booth in the HUB and call the funeral home stating that she was  the florist handling the service but that she has misplaced the address. I saw her jot it down. I grabbed the paper and tore off across campus to find a bus going to that far side of south Seattle. It was late morning and I panicked, thinking I might miss it all. I sat in the back of the bus on the green naugahyde long seat facing the center aisle. I sat sideways facing front, watching for any sign of a church, scratching anxiously on the seat. To calm myself I imagined giving a eulogy, saying how Jimi’s death marked the end of the era, what with Altamont and the Isle of Wight’s violent festivals sending the Woodstock Generation of Peace and Love from it’s Genesis to this ultimate death. This was the end, sadly marked by the loss of its prophet.

Then around a curve I saw a line of silver police motorcycles side by side, their fronts facing diagonally out from the curb. Then the little chapel appeared to my right with groupings of people on either side of the doorway. I got off the bus and joined them. The chapel was filled, and even famous musicians were outside, including Johnny Winters, all facing the center door listening. One could hear speakers and hymns. Then the congregation began to exit. Photographers bound across the grass towards the concrete walkway. First came the family members. A group of teenage girls, perhaps Jimi’s cousins or nieces in black saw the cameras and the plump  one in the middle fell out in a Baptist seizure while the other two held her up. Buddy Miles emerged serene and robust in a jacket of multi colored patchwork squares of gold, dark green and maroon leather, like a checkerboard. Miles Davis strode out with a young woman on both arms, one in a hooded red cloak and the other a light skinned thin black girl in a silver miniskirt with accents of lilac, a huge billowy lilac afro and silver boots. The curb was lined with a dozen limousines, black uniformed drivers opening the  doors. I went past the photographers and entered an empty limo, sitting against the far window. The limos filled with family and associates and we were off, sailing outside Seattle until a green grassy large cemetery appeared to the right. There was a rope strung across a walkway to keep the photographers and any outsiders back, but I continued past with the family and guests. Up upon a knoll beneath an awning was the casket covered with flowers. Just a few feet away was a large guitar of purple and white flowers propped on a stand angled towards the coffin. Everyone stayed down about ten feet from there as the immediate family went up beneath the awning. They were all in black. There may have been some words shared and a prayer, followed by the singing of a hymn. I think it was “Swing Down, Sweet Chariot.” As they sang, one of the young girls pulled some flowers off of the casket as a keepsake. It seemed like a good idea, so when they stepped away and the onlookers relaxed in position, I stepped up to the casket and pulled some flowers off myself. I didn’t realize it was a moment for Jeffrey Michaels, Jimi’s producer, and the musicians from the original Jimi Hendrix Experience, Noel Redding and Mitch Mitchell to stand before the casket. A photo of this moment appeared in both Seattle newspapers the next day, one of which calls me the “unidentified mourner” while naming the other three. The photo captures me reaching into the flowers.

I walked down through the mingling people and stopped near a group of about eight people, recognizing a few as famous musicians. At the foot of the group a short soft-spoken Black man was the focus of everyone’s attention. He sounded like he had a sore throat, speaking in a raspy voice, as he said that Jimi’s music was what he listened to at home. Then he stopped and looked past everyone at me, with a questioning look on his face like “Who the fuck are you?” As the others turned towards me I gave a thoughtful look into another direction and stepped away. As soon as I began to walk back up the knoll a young woman stepped to me with a microphone and asked what effect Jimi’s death had on me. I was already prepared, as I had already given this speech in my head on the bus coming out to the chapel. Rochelle, the friend who had called the funeral home as the florist, heard my interview on the radio the next morning.

Up a curve a limo drove through the trees and stopped just down from us. The driver in black got out and opened the back door. The woman in the red cloak and dark glasses emerged and walked slowly but focused past everyone and up to the flowered casket. She lifted her arm thoughtfully keeping it straight with her palm extended over the casket and held it still that way for a few moments as everyone else stood frozen and mesmerized. She then receded back to the limo where the driver shut her door and drove back down the curving hillside.

I was driven back into the City. When I saw myself called the “Unidentified Mourner” in the morning newspaper, I was amused. It seemed a good title for my life. The flowers remain in the magazine I pressed them in.

[tervacious]

Being a rape victim doesn’t automatically make you a good person other people should take seriously and no I’m not talking about Tara Reade

Kurt Eichenwald is a terrible person who has a twitter account and isn’t afraid to use it to make a damn fool of himself and anyone who takes him seriously about any subject whatsoever.  He came to my attention back in 2016 as a shill for Hillary Clinton, and when he resurfaced a year or two later as a subject of mockery for wondering loudly, with the air of a man in desperate need of attention, about whether or not tentacle porn really exists.

I would have forgotten all about him, except the other day he decided to go on a long twitter rant about Tara Reade being a liar, and even then I would have never known he did this if I didn’t follow some brave souls who apparently monitor his account for the next time he discovers something almost everyone else in the entire world knows about already and decides to share his discovery with the group.

Tara Reade is a liar, according to Kurt, because, you see, HE was raped.

Kurt Eichenwald has epilepsy, and apparently years ago after a massive seizure he passed out, during which time a man violently raped him.  He ended up in the hospital.  He was severely injured, and afterwards was deeply traumatized.  He was only ever able to open up and talk/write/tweet about this because of a lot of help and his wife.

Weirdly, even though he’s a terrible person, and a damn fool, and has awful war-crime-apologia politics, I totally believe his story.  I don’t know if he filed a police report, or if the guy was caught, or if he has medical records to back it up.  I don’t know if he told anyone at the time except for, I assume, the doctors and nurses.  I have no idea how long it took him to process the horror of what happened to him.  And I don’t know if he gradually came into an understanding of the events of that time, or knew all along, or forgot details, or kept things back when he finally decided to start talking about it, or what.  None of that should be particularly important when it comes to defaulting to believing a victim. In fact, when I read his first few tweets, even though I knew what was coming, I realized he probably was legit when he went off on his tentacle-porn discovery.  I no longer feel that is a subject worthy of mocking him for.  It makes total sense to me now.

You’d think a guy who had something so hideous happen to him would have developed empathy along the way, particularly for other rape victims.  You’d be wrong if you thought that.

Tara Reade, you see, did not react in any way the way Kurt Eichenwald reacted to what happened to him, so she must be lying.

If it was acceptable to think this way, I wouldn’t have to believe anyone about rape.  Because when I was assaulted, as a teenager in a dark parking lot on a community college campus after (or was it before?) a night class, I fought the guy off.  I successfully attacked my would-be attacker, who shoved me partly against (or onto?) the hood of a car, where a broken antenna cut into my upper arm, but I kicked him off me, slammed my fists into the back of his head (or between his shoulders?), and stabbed him with the biology probe I had in my bag because I was taking a ceramics course at the time and that was the tool I used for detail work.  I didn’t scream or yell because that’s not my style and also it wastes your breath when no one is around.  The man was three or five inches shorter than me, but muscular, stockier and bigger than me, I couldn’t tell you his age or race, he smelled like alcohol, and he wore boots.  But see, I fought him off, got him on the ground, kicked him three or four times (I was wearing boots too), and then ran like hell for the buildings.  There was blood on me.  He didn’t rape me.  In fact he couldn’t even get his hands below my waistband.  It felt like it happened in slow motion but it had to have happened quickly.  I remember it was spring semester.  And it happened thirty-two and a half years ago.  And I didn’t tell anyone.  I didn’t report it.  I wasn’t ashamed but, I mean, it’s not like anything actually happened, right?  I didn’t want my parents to take me out of college or start monitoring my life.  I wore long sleeves throughout the summer to cover the mark on my arm.  I started carrying a knife.  I still don’t talk about it.  This might be the first time I’ve written about it.  I have never told my mother about it, and I’m fifty years old.  I have no plans to tell her either.

But he didn’t rape me.  Because I kicked his ass.  Why do other women claim they freeze?  That makes no sense, they must be lying then.  Why don’t other women fight?  They must be lying.  People tell other people this happened to them?  They must be looking for attention.  In fact, if a man can’t fight off his attacker?  He woke up, after all.  It’s not like he HAD to lie there, and

See how ugly that is?  See how horrible and wrong?  See what a bad person you have to be to think that way?  I was just employing rhetoric and it made me feel awful typing it without meaning it.  Jesus fuck.  What a husk of a human being Kurt Eichenwald must be.

So Tara Reade didn’t do anything Kurt Eichenwald did.  According to him, this means she is a liar, and not just any liar, but the worst kind of liar, and should rot in hell.

Kurt Eichenwald is a perfect example of why men, even men who are rape victims, should shut up forever when it comes to rape culture and women who have been raped.  His rape gave him no insight whatsoever into what women deal with.  He has no understanding of the power dynamics between women and men.  He never had to deal with that, even in the moment a man raped him.  He has nothing to offer on this subject, except to take a woman’s rape and somehow make it all about himself.

I could write a lot about men and their relationship to rape as victims.  Kurt Eichenwald wrote his screed, and the replies were full of mainly women falling all over themselves to validate him and offer sympathy.  When a man tells his story, he’s brave.  If a man or boy is violated, it’s the worst crime of all.  When we read about priests in the Catholic church sexually abusing children and adults, all we read about and hear about are the boys, even though the records show THREE TIMES as many girls were abused and raped, and women were assaulted, abused, and raped as well.  Many of the female victims ended up pregnant, and that had to be covered up somehow as well.  But we all associate “pedophile priests” with boys.  And ironically men use the horror of what happened to all these children to complain about how unimportant their stories are, how “it’s okay when it happens to boys” or “no one cares when it happens to boys”, when in reality that’s the only time rape is taken at all seriously.  The male body is precious and it isn’t “normal” to violate it.  Whereas the actual disposable, easily erased victims are always women and girls.

This isn’t to lessen what happened to those boys, but why does what happened to those boys lessen what happened to girls and women?

Tara Reade knew and liked her attacker, a man with incredible power who still has incredible power.  She is receiving death threats, has been doxxed, has had fake internet accounts established in her name to discredit her.  Her politics have come under scrutiny because apparently if you liked Putin one time you are magically unrapeable-- who knew?  Women are rushing to discuss why she wasn’t wearing pantyhose back in 1993, because ALL women wore them back then, so WHY NOT, TARA?  WHY DIDN’T YOU HAVE THEM ON???

(Probably for the same reason I didn’t wear pantyhose, despite dress codes, in 1993, and that is because they are uncomfortable and also both of us are from California where the pantyhose thing was pretty much over by the early nineties.  Just an fyi.)

And Kurt Eichenwald had a horrible thing happen to him too.  I’m sorry to read that, that anyone had to go through that.  But it doesn’t make him a good person, and it doesn’t make him an expert on rape, and it doesn’t make him right, and it obviously gave him nothing in the way of empathy or compassion for the suffering of women, especially one who he finds inconvenient.  And in a way, it makes him worse than the men who have never been raped or never thought it was possible that they even could be raped.  He should know better, and he doesn’t.

[thisisnotreallife]

Additive Identity

A job is not an identity, but it can start to feel like one if you aren’t careful about it.

In May, I quit my job teaching full-time at Washington State University and directing the Writing Center there. I didn’t so much as quit, I guess, as I did just never sign my annual renewal contract, deciding instead with Patrick to launch myself, himself, our cat, and all of our stuff across the country to Nashville, Tennessee without a job lined up—but with a sense of relief from escaping the nuclear waste zone of Richland, Washington and the mess of higher education, even if only momentarily.

Because we live in capitalism, I need a job, though, and so I decide I cannot be above throwing my name in the hat when a couple of tenure-track jobs come available at Nashville area community colleges. In the weeks and months since I applied, I haven’t been offered full-time work, but both colleges have reached out to offer adjuncting positions.  

Five hundred fifty dollars per credit for semester-long courses. No benefits or guarantees.

Three quarters of the nation’s college educator population is contingent labor. Part-time adjunct instructors are most often paid per credit, at rates that are disproportionately low compared to the compensation of full-time faculty. A full course load may be four courses each term, but an adjunct teaching three courses might make one-quarter the salary of a full-time faculty member. While tuition rises, more and more of the teaching duties are shopped out to contract workers who want desperately to teach, but who receive low pay and no benefits, and who often drive from one college to the next in a city to stitch together a $35,000 income. Many find out the next semester’s course load the day before or the day of the beginning of term, and if enrollment is low, there may not even be courses available. Post-graduate school, I spent four years adjunct teaching alongside full-time administrative support work, often grading student papers online during my lunch breaks and sending off covert applications for full-time teaching positions from company computers, hoping for a break.

To both adjuncting offers I receive when I arrive in Nashville, I impolitely decline. To the college that flew me out before our move for a finalist interview and campus visit and then neglected to follow up or respond to my inquiries, I send unsolicited student evaluations from the last several years.

You have made a mistake, I think I’m aiming to say—but now I’m not sure if I was saying it to the hiring committee or to myself.

In high school, I knew I wanted to be an English teacher, but it wasn’t until college that I decided I’d prefer post-secondary education to K-12. I liked the idea of not having to be in one spot for a seven-hour day. I liked the idea of having an office where most of your work got done, not a classroom full of desperately developing children for an entire day.

When I finally land a full-time teaching job, it is in a town of 16,000 people in a corner of Oregon that shows up as one of the darkest areas on a light pollution map of the contiguous United States. Friends from my graduate school cohort express surprise and disbelief not only that full-time teaching jobs exist, but that I managed to find one. I begin teaching. I serve on committees. I am asked to take on responsibilities by administrators who make double, triple, quadruple what I make. I sit in my office with my students as they talk, laugh, cry, tell me about their mental health concerns, drug abuse, gender identity issues. I stop writing. I stop baking bread. I write comments on student papers. Grade.

At the end of each semester, I breathe until I am ready to begin again.

The first place in Nashville to offer me a job is around the corner from our house, at a local favorite called Mike’s Ice Cream. I am told I will be making ice cream and eventually baking for the coffee shop connected to the ice cream factory. A half hour before my interview there, I am called by the Department Chair of the local community college where I was invited for the campus visit earlier that spring. She offers me an adjuncting opportunity, to “get my foot in the door” in the higher ed world of Tennessee. I am taken off guard and engage in pleasant conversation with her before promising to follow up via email, which I do—though not in the way either of us had expected.

At Mike’s Ice Cream, I am not making ice cream so much as I am doing manual labor: I follow recipe instructions to pour specific amounts of factory-made ingredients overhead into a machine from which I extract ice cream into boxes that I have made myself; I push 400-lb. racks of ice cream into freezers where it is possible to get stuck and die within 17 minutes; I stop counting OSHA violations by the end of my first shift.

I can’t keep up with the health code violations, either—fruit flies from the mildewy, open drain below the wash-rinse-sanitize sinks and from the laundry basket of rags used to mop up watered down ice cream mix swirl around my head while I extract, and one lands on the spatula I use to coax the frozen ice cream into the corners of the boxes. I watch a co-worker—another new hire, like me—toss an Oreo that fell on the floor over a container of cookies, in which it lands. He picks it out with his bare hands and scoops the Oreos he thinks it touched out with a measuring cup. Another co-worker, the soon-to-be college senior who is training us, refuses to wear a hairnet under her baseball cap and pivots from using her phone to food prep without washing her hands.

I last forty hours in total and make 325 gallons of ice cream that are distributed throughout the city of Nashville with my initials on them. I do not taste any of the flavors while I am there.

On my last day, I sustain a mild concussion when I slip on water in the kitchen and smack my face into a baker’s rack. I want to leave right away, when the lump on my cheekbone swells and turns a dark purple below the Band-Aid I have to put on over my broken skin. My head buzzes, but I finish out the shift and receive the following week’s schedule from my manager via email that evening.

I reply to tell him about the concussion, and that I cannot work until midnight on Monday night and then again at half past eight the next morning. He tells me he put a mat down where I slipped and that he’ll find someone to cover my Monday night shift, but when Tuesday morning comes around, I wake up at 6:00 and find that I’ve left my work shoes on the porch overnight during a hard rain.

When I send the email telling management at Mike’s that I won’t be coming back, I think of the student from several years ago who told me he didn’t have a draft of his essay because his dog ate it. I’m so sorry, but my shoes were wet.

We all have our limits.  

When we first moved to Nashville this May, I stacked the books from my office at WSU in the shed outside, on top of two filing cabinets full of assignment handouts and readings and writing samples. There is no room in our smaller house for them, and I expect I won’t need them in the fall, anyway. Our lease states that we use the shed at our own risk, mostly because it is not secure storage but also because it is apparently filled with spiders, who make themselves evident almost immediately, spinning webs between our rakes and tools and outdoor gear. It is a horrible, on-the-nose metaphor, but it is happening in real-time: the relics of my former, short-lived career gathering cobwebs in a dusty shed.

This September marks the first time since the year before kindergarten that I am unaffiliated with a school in some way, shape, or form. There is no back-to-school. There is no pre-term prep of syllabi and course materials. There is, of course, but I am not a part of it. I feel alienated from the routine set for me since my birth thirty-three years ago: a new year around the sun, a new year in school. But there are different ways to learn, I know, and different things to teach to the world, too.

“You are not your job,” my horoscope says. If my job is nothing, that means I am not nothing. If my job is not teaching, that means I am not not a teacher, too.  

[bubmyg]

the pizza magnet - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: (future) lawyer!yoongi, college!au

warnings: none

prompt/hc used:  yoongi would stay at your dorm more often than not, particularly during undergrad, and there was one instance in the dead center of winter that he accidentally burnt popcorn while you were in the shower and every girl on your floor hated you because at least you had your boyfriend to hug you until he was like, “I can take turns?” and like they still hated you but at least your boyfriend was cute and slightly charming.

a/n: the next addition to the lawyer!yoongi drabbles from here all set in the universe established here :’-)

word count: 1,578

“You’re sure I can’t come with you?”

You swatted at Yoongi’s fingers where they toyed with the knot at the front of your robe. “I’m positive,” You bent at the waist, ducking from his ministrations, “I’ll be gone for like ten minutes. At the most.”

“What if your roommate comes back while you’re gone?”

“She won’t.”

“But if she does—”

“I don’t know, hide in my closet or something,” You gestured vaguely to the tiny hole in the wall at the back of the room, “and don’t eat all my snacks while you wait for me to save you.”

“Can I eat some of your snacks?”

You groaned, reaching up to peck the exaggerated pout crossed over his ranting lips. You turned before he could grab onto the tie cinched around your robe, retching open your door and fleeing to the hallway. Your departing words echoed over the clacking of the contents inside your plastic caddy down the hall, “I’m going to shower now!”

Yoongi huffed, staring hard at the emergency exit plans pasted to the back of your door for well over ten seconds. Lumbering footsteps carried him across the short space of your dorm room, plopping dramatically back into the fold out chair tucked in the corner. His phone bored him after ignoring a text from Hoseok and responding a what do you think? to Namjoon’s where are you?

He let his phone flop to his lap when your door creaked, the metal keeping it shut clattering back and forth against the much too big hole it was encased it. The wind, the cause of the shift in your seemingly centuries old dormitory, fluttered at your curtains where you roommate had left the window open and refused to shut it even when it was well below freezing. He knew it wasn’t you coming back and he knew it wasn’t your roommate but he’d glanced backward toward your closet, anyway, squinting at the minuscule space that he may be able to fit.

The chair creaked when Yoongi abruptly stood, phone falling back into the canvas seat with a soft plop. His destination wasn’t the tiny crevice just above where one of your tennis shoes sat awkwardly a top your rain boots but instead the open flap of a blue box sticking out from your snack crates pressed against the wall.

He got a mouthful of the pleats on the end of one of your scarves dangling off a hanger but he returned with the desired object in the end. A package of popcorn. The little things.

Waddling footsteps had him crossing your room at a much giddier pace this time, thumb jamming into your microwave while meticulous fingers stripped the bag of it’s plastic coating. He started the snack with a satisfied smile, watching the folded bag as it rotated under glowing lights for a few second before his attention wandered elsewhere, to the series of free magnets handed out during orientation week two years ago that your roommate had scattered about the front of your fridge that the microwave was perched upon. He crouched, fingernail plucking absently at the one at the very top, a cartoon piece of pizza advertising the by the slice shop in the student union.

He could hear you ranting as he shoved the magnet aside, revealing the outlined marks it had left behind.

This is why I hate university housing. Or rather, this is why I hate the random roommate selection process. And why am I punished for having a scholarship by being forced to stay in university residence with a forestry major who thinks you can put magnets on stainless steel—

The popcorn wasn’t popping any longer but the microwave was most definitely still waving, humming quietly as the glass plate continued to spin. Yoongi frowned, slapping the magnet a space away from where it had been before as he jumped back up, eyes cutting first to the timer that had well over a minute left on it.

His conscience sighed. Leave it in a few more seconds, it’s probably fine.

A corner of the bag was entirely engulfed in black before he smelled something burning.

Yoongi’s index finger stabbed so violently into the button on the microwave that your refrigerator underneath it rocked too, teetering the appliances so violently he thought they might both be going down. But they settled, steam tainted in the smell of charred butter spilling from the half open door of the microwave. He winced, thumb tucking inside to draw the door wider, letting another puff of smoke out in the process.

The shrill beep of the smoke detector let him know that yes it was right above the microwave and yes he had set it off.

You were halfway down the hallway when a guilty looking Yoongi thrust himself out of your room, eyes perfectly round, lips pressed into a thin line, a soft pink dusting the tops of his cheeks and over the shell of his ears. You were nudging him out of the way with your soaked shower caddy, mouth parted to inquire is that ours? when a flash of light preceded the alarm of the whole building falling into the hallway in one long, monotonous drone.  

You glared at Yoongi as he handed you your coat and lanyard, hair dripping and sticking to your cheeks, snow boots shrugged onto bare legs, robe pulled another link tighter around your torso.

“I think I put the popcorn in a little too long.”

It was snowing outside because of course it was but, for once, Yoongi didn’t mind the pressure of your snow boots pressing into the tops of his toes. He unzipped his jacket, using curled fists in his pockets to curl around the front of your stature, holding you tightly against his torso. You could feel his bashful grin against your cheek, chin rut into your shoulder blade.

“Wouldn’t have happened if you would have let me shower with you…”

“I was gone less than ten minutes,” You ranted, leaning your temple against his, “I think one of the roaches came back and I was trying to get out of there as fast as possible. And yet you still—”

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

You turned in his embrace, peripheral catching the embarrassed way in which he evaded your gaze, studying the way clumps of snow collected against blades of grass instead. He wouldn’t look at you and he wouldn’t look elsewhere because there were somewhere around forty girls who wouldn’t mind if he melted and turned into a piece of the precipitation never to return to their building again, anyway.

Yoongi’s awkward grip on you from within his pockets dropped when you shimmied around, cupping his cheeks in frigid palms. He stared wide eyed at you, waterline blurred in tears from the wind that stirred sporadic pieces of snow around the tiny courtyard outside your building.  

“How long did you put it in for?”

A sheepish smile indented his cheeks, gaze falling from you again, “Two-thirty.”

You shook your head, pecking his lips quickly, nudging his eyes back to you, “Way too long. Only needs about a minute twenty-five.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi’s tongue sandwiched between his back molars, “I figured that out.”

“Well, the good news is, I don’t think law schools take into account how many times you almost burn down your girlfriend’s dorm so…”

His eyes widened, hands jerking out of his pockets to grab onto your waist, “This won’t get you in trouble, will it? I mean, I’ll take the blame for it obviously but—”

You kissed him harder this time, lingering the flat of your mouth against his still parted lips for a half second. “Roommate may complain because our room is going to smell like shit but—”

“We can go back to mine,” Yoongi rushed, lips brushing messily against yours as he spoke.

You pressed your thumb into the crease of his lips, holding him a safe distance away for you to speak, “—but, the rest of my floor may be pissed at me for the rest of the semester.”

He dared his gaze to wander to the other faces scattered around the tiny circle within the patch of snow covered grass when you stepped back into his chest, arms tight around his waist as you giggled. A handful of them were glaring at him, gazes averting back to the illumination of their phone screens or their neighbor’s ear when his eyes locked on them for more than a beat. The others were glaring at you, pinched gazes focused on the back of your head where you were buried against the part of Yoongi’s jacket, fingers grappling at the zipper to drag one side over your face to shield from the wind.

“I can take turns?” Yoongi offered, voice shaking a bit over the sound of the wind and the roaring alarm in the background. His smile was just as hesitant, charming albeit, as extra heads turned curiously, half irritated, in his direction.

His arms flapped around where you clung to him, gaze sweeping from side to side while sheepish gums flashed, “No, really, I mean, if that’s something anyone wants…”

The girl nearest you, one you recognized from well down the hallway from your room, leaned closer, addressing you solely, deadly serious, arms tucked tight across her chest as Yoongi’s entire visage painted over in the most shy shade of red.

“You’re lucky he’s cute.”

[slyreaderslibrary]

Ch. 4 Cold Cases and Hot Leads

AO3: Here

Fanfiction.net: Here

Summary: Keeping a secret identity secret is normally hard enough but when you’re as beautiful as Minako Aino you’re bound to have all kinds of creeps and weirdo stalking your every move. Now there’s a cop hot on her trail and she’ll have to be quick on her feet if she’s to keep her identity on the DL. Just what is a gorgeous super-heroine to do? 

 Name: Koizumi, Keisuke

Birthdate: 19XX-09-23

Age: 27

Current Employer: TCPD

Educa—

Minako skimmed the profile page, growing bored when she didn't see anything of use. A quick search of the Tokyo City Police Department's open cases didn't show any results either. The only thing that stood out was a long standing open case to determine the source of the youma infestation. It seems someone in the department was convinced these were gross animal mutations due to some kind of unknown radiation but the case had been opened and had remained unsolved since her initial Sailor V days.

Man, did she wish Ami were here. Ami was so much better at these kind of things. Sadly, Ami was in Germany for a semester filling her brilliant brain with all kinds of facts and numbers. Minako also doubted her friend would be happy to have her study time interrupted for anything less than Senshi business. A lone cop—or even several—was hardly anything to bother her about, not when Minako had proven she could handle them at thirteen.

"That's it!"

Minako snapped her fingers and then pressed several buttons on the keypay. The screen shifted, going black as a dial tone rang out over the speakers and then flared to life as a beautiful, dark haired woman sitting behind a desk covered in papers appeared on the monitors with a smile wide on her face.

"Minako-chan!"

Minako grinned and flashed her trademark V.

"Guilty as charged!"

"It's been too long!" The woman leaned back in her seat and propped her Louis Vuittons on her desk corner. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh you know," Minako shrugged, "Catching bad guys, breaking hearts, the usual."

"You know, you could still come work for me and actually get paid for what you do."

"Natsuna-onee-san," Minako gasped, pressing her hand to her heart, "Can you imagine if it was discovered that Japan's number one star was working a second job? They'd question if my life was really as fabulous as it is, you know!"

Natsuna flashed a predatory smirk, dropping her feet to the floor and leaning forward. "Can you imagine what they would say if they knew Japan's sweetheart was the fabled Sailor V? You'd be the symbol of Japan! More famous than the Emperor!"

Minako scoffed and gave her friend a pointed look. "Sailor V hasn't been seen in years. There are new heroines now."

"Yes, and speculation on the web is that the two may be related." Minako raised a brow and Natsuna nodded in response. "Yes, some of the less frequented forums tend to focus on Sailor Venus in particular in that regard."

"And the precincts?"

"Precincts?" Natsuna frowned, "Why would the precincts be gossiping about your identities?"

"Why would a detective be casing out my school?"

"What?!" Natsuna jumped to her feet and ran off screen.

"Wakagi! My office! NOW!"

Natsuna reappeared.

"Minako-chan, I'll find out what I can and call you back." She pursed her lips, debating, then added, "I'm afraid it might take awhile. Since taking office, I'm not as in the loop with my subordinates as I was in my previous position, but I promise I will get them to back off. You have my word."

"Thanks onee-san. I owe you one."

The screen went black and Minako settled in to wait.

oOo

She was still there.

Two hours had come and gone and his suspect was still off playing arcade games. At least he hoped so. She had managed to sneak past him back at the school, he wouldn't put it past her to take an alternate way out of the arcade.

Keisuke drummed his fingers as he debated what to do. He could leave his post and get close enough for a visual, potentially risking detection, or he could stay where he was and wait, potentially allowing her trail to grow colder because she had slipped past him once again. He checked the time on his phone and frowned.

A chime reached his ears, one he recognized as the Crown's, and he snapped his gaze up in time to see Aino waving goodbye to the shopkeeper.

"Remember what I said about London!" Aino called over her shoulder. She dropped her hand as the door swung shut and glanced around the street for a moment.

Was she looking for him? It wasn't unheard of for a suspect to spot a tail and grow paranoid as time went by. However unlike previous suspects, Aino seemed unperturbed and in no hurry, standing there, idle, as she tapped her lips thoughtfully. He watched her glance down and say something to the cat curled around her feet. Odd, it appeared tame, if its behavior was any indicator, but he hadn't noticed the feline previously. Had it been with her earlier? And if the cat travelled with Aino often enough to walk unleashed, why hadn't he seen it before?

Aino finally settled on a destination and turned north and Keisuke rushed to follow, slipping past the railing bars and dropping to the pavement below. He did his best to follow unobserved but it was a task easier said than done. His suspect was distracted easily by displays in storefronts or carts selling wares along the street, and more than once he needed to duck or dive to prevent being spotted. After one such incident he had lost her altogether and it was only a lucky guess—as well as her golden hair sparkling amongst a sea of blacks and browns—that had put him on the chase once more. He was grateful she took the time to dye it but then remembered his own silver locks and decided he shouldn't assume.

Besides being easily distracted, she was also constantly talking. He wasn't sure if she had a bluetooth or if she was just talking at her cat, although she looked its way often enough that Keisuke had begun to accurately predict when to slip out of sight. The way the cat moved though...Keisuke could have sworn it was responding, and the longer he spent staring at it, the more he felt like he'd seen it before although he hadn't the slightest idea where.

Cats aside, he was more than a little relieved when residential buildings began to appear and Aino's pace began to slow. Maybe she lived with a friend and that was why he couldn't find her place of residence? Keisuke crossed the street, hoping to keep his distance and watched as his target sprinted up a steep set of steps leading to a local shrine without pausing her stride. He raised a brow, a little impressed despite himself, and then took out his notebook and noted the Shrine's name and location. Hikawa...why did that sound familiar?

Keisuke took out his phone and did a quick search, both eyebrows shooting up when he saw the results. He let out a low whistle and marked several articles and then opened his contacts. He found the name he was looking for and pressed the dial button.

"Hey, it's Koizumi." Keisuke paused and listened, "Yes, that one." He rolled his eyes as the other person said something else and glanced at the shrine steps. No blonde in sight. "I was wondering if we could meet," he glanced down at his watch. "Perhaps in an hour?" He turned away from the steps and started walking towards a nearby cafe.

"I want you to tell me what you know about the Hikawa Shrine."

oOo

"Reeeeeeeei!"

Minako snickered to herself as she watched her friend stiffen before turning around to greet her.

"Go home."

"Rei!" Minako gasped, skidding to a halt. "Is that anyway to treat a friend who came all this way to see you?"

The priestess ignored her and resumed sweeping while Minako huffed as dramatically as she could behind her. The thanks she got!

"Well fine," she crossed her arms and turned to leave, "I was going to ask if you needed help around here for the next few days but I can see where I'm not wanted."

"Jet setting around the world not enough to keep you busy these days?"

"Hardly," Artemis scoffed, appearing along the top of the stone wall. He jumped down from his perch to join them. "She's just trying to get in the law enforcement's good graces."

Rei nodded to Artemis in greeting and then turned her beautiful no-nonsense gaze to stare down Minako.

"Okay, I miiiiight have hoped hanging around here for a few days would get him off my case." Minako plucked Rei's broom from her hands and turned up the kitten eyes. "Please Rei? Aren't you always saying you could use the help?"

Rei rolled her eyes and snatched her broom back. "You cause more destruction than you help half the time." She crossed her arms and raised an expectant brow. "Why's he following you anyway?"

Minako shrugged, glancing around the courtyard to insure no one else was listening. She would have bet money that someone had been following her earlier but it seemed that was no longer the case.

"My source says some precinct got a bee up their bonnets and have reopened old youma case files in hopes of catching the perp of the more recent youma influx."

"What does that have to do with you?"

"I'm not quite sure." Minako rubbed her temples. Talking about cops always gave her such a headache! "While it makes sense that we'd cross their eye if youma are involved, I've never had police chase after my civilian identity before."

Rei looked at her sharply.

"You don't think they've learned who you are do you?"

Minako pursed her lips and then waved the idea away. "Nah. Natsuna would have said something. The closest anyone's gotten is guessing V and Venus are the same person and that doesn't take Ami's brains to figure out."

"A mystery in itself considering all that blonde hair you have," Rei smirked. She shook her head and handed Minako the broom. "Fine,you can help but no handling the temple artifacts. Last time you nearly broke a three hundred year old vase."

"Aye aye, capitaine!" Minako snapped to attention and gave a sharp salute but Rei was too busy walking away to appreciate it.

"Hey!" She dropped formation and hurried to catch up to her. "Hey wait!"

"Reeeeeeeei!"

[petri808]

Sixteen Weeks and Counting

@inukag-week Highschool AU canon divergence, 7 part/prompt by day story

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7  Day 4- Affection

A school science project can be tough enough but for Kagome Higurashi her semester was gearing up to be a hell of a ride when she’s paired up with the class slacker…

“What took you so long?” Miroku leans over and whispers as Inuyasha takes his seat.  “Class is half way over already.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, just had a run in with Koga at lunchtime.”

“I don’t see any marks on ya, he didn’t get a hit in?”

“Didn’t have a chance.”

“Whoa!” The teacher looks their way and Miroku ducks back down, but as soon as she goes back to writing on the board, he continues.  “Did you knock him out first?”

“Nah, girl stepped in between us.”

After Miroku picks up his jaw from the ground, his expression switches to a lecherous grin. “So, is she cute?”

“Keh!” Inuyasha turns away, but he couldn’t hide the slight burning in his cheeks from his friend.

“Oh ho!” Miroku pokes at this buddy, “bro you neeeed to give me details after class!”

“Will you shut up,” Inuyasha grits his teeth, “before the teacher comes over here!”

“Fine,” Miroku straightens out, “but I will find out who she is sooner or later…”

Of course, that month’s full moon had to fall on a Friday of all days.  It was common knowledge that hanyo’s like himself had a day when their demon powers waned, and the human side took back control.  But for Inuyasha, the feeling of being weaker never sat well with him.  Human frailties like disease cost his mother her life and even though it was just part of existing for them, that didn’t mean he had to like it.  You had a better chance of being struck by lightning than to see him on one of these nights and so the fact that Kagome was still going to be at his house when his turning would occur bugged him all day through classes. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to cancel their session.

Inuyasha stared out the living room window watching the sun slowly make it’s decent below the horizon. It wouldn’t be long now, he could feel the tingling in his finger tips and the fading scents around him.  He talks a dry gulp before gently tapping Kagome on the shoulder.  “I need to warn you about something, I… t-tonight is my human night so in a few minutes I’ll be turning.”

“Oh,” she turns to look at him, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, “why is that a big deal or something, like do I need to worry cause you’ll get all weird?”

He blinks at her nonchalant tone, “um no, just didn’t want you to freak out.”  He motions over his shoulder with his thumb, “I’ll be right back, I like taking a shower after I change.”

“Sure,” she smiles, “take your time.”

He was right on the dot by the time he had reached his room for the change to begin.  Hair shifting from white to black, his fingers, the claws retracting into human nails.  The oddest feelings were as his canine ears receded and human ones appeared instead. But he was used to it all, and after a minute, Inuyasha opened his eyes to the new man staring back from the full-length mirror.  He sighed, saddened by the loss of his extra senses.  It really wasn’t such a necessity in this day and age, but it was still a handy feature.  After gathering his clothing, he retreats to the bathroom for a quick shower.          

When Inuyasha returns for the project, he stops in the kitchen to grab them drinks and runs into his brother, drinking tea and reading a newspaper.  

“How are things going Inuyasha?”

“Fine.”

“Oh, just fine?  You two are getting along so much better now. You even allowed her to stay despite it being your human night,” Sesshomaru puts his paper down, “any significance?”

“That-That’s none of your business.  But for the record I just wanted to stay on track.”

“Mmhmm,” his brother snickers, “then you should get back to it then.”

“Keh!”

‘Any significance…  Damn him trying to read into this like there’s more to it…’ Inuyasha reaches the archway and notices Kagome rubbing the back of her neck and turning her head from side to side like it was stiff.  He gulps, she had put her hair up in a messy bun and her neck was just…

He puts the bottles of water down on the table in front of her.  “Your neck sore?” he asks and takes a seat next to her on the floor.

“Yeah, a little. Thanks for the water,” she smiles and looks over.  But when she realizes how different he looks, her eyes widen, “wow, I mean it’s still obviously you, but the black hair makes you look so different!  Aww, and the doggy ears are gone!  I like those ears better.”

“You do?!”

“I wanna rub them, they look so fluffy and cute!”

“Maybe one day,” he mumbles as his cheeks flush.  “If you want, I can give you a neck massage. You’ve been working really hard today and I barely did anything, it’s the least I can do.”    

“That would be really sweet!”

Inuyasha scoots behind her and shifts her between his legs.  Guess his human form came in handy tonight, he looks at his hands before placing them gingerly on her shoulders, no claws.  Kagome pulls her knees up and lowers her head, giving him all the access, he would need. Slowly he began massaging her shoulders, starting at the edges of her collar bone and working his way towards the middle.  He kneads at the muscles, searching with the pads of his finger tips for any knots or tight spots.  “Tell me if there’s anywhere that hurts the most.”

“Okay,” she breathes out. Wow, she mused inwardly, even as a human Inuyasha had some strong hands. Shouldn’t she be a little surprised that he knew how to massage a person?  Oh, like it’s hard to figure out. Kagome closes her eyes and just lets the relaxation carry her away for a spell.  This feels so nice…. Her mind drifts…. Could his touch always feel like this?  She starts to imagine his strong grip, teasing other areas of skin….  Crap! Don’t go there!  She screams at herself.  Friends just friends and this project we’re working on, nothing more!  But it might be nice for more….  Kagome groans internally, maybe the massage was a bad idea.

He didn’t need his demon senses to figure out Kagome was enjoying the massage.  A few little cringes when he touched upon a sore spot, but for the most part she just sat there stoically and every so often he earned a wispy sigh.  Ugh!  Every time she did that a shiver ran up his spine!  Inuyasha was after all a normal male and after this little episode he might need to take stock of another feature.  It had been a couple of years or maybe three since he’d been physically close to another girl.  Nothing sexual, but they had made out a few times and now sitting here with Kagome, Inuyasha was starting to miss that.  

“Feel better,” he asks 20 minutes later.

“Very much,” she blushes lightly and looks down as she fiddles with her fingers, “thank you Inuyasha.”

Now it was his turn.  He averts his eyes knowing that his own cheeks had grown warmer, “no problem.”

[dcublogger]

Sarah | Psychology

Hi, my name is Sarah and I am a mature student studying Psychology. I hope you enjoy my blog about my experience in DCU.

Semester 1 - 2019

December 20th, Semester 1: Finishing Semester

At just like that it is over. Semester 1 of year 3 is complete! It is honestly so hard to explain how quickly each semester goes. One of my friends said it best when she told us that we have 6 semesters done and only 3 more left until we graduate. 

I wish my semesters we more balanced for me personally. I have not found a balance between college time and mom time. Each week that passes I think next week will be better, next week I will be more organised. But then life happens and my little one gets sick. (Trying to leave for college when your three-year-old is pleading with you to stay, is an actual test I have only seldom passed!) 

But look, I have made it. There are still assignments to do and exams to prepare for but I have survived and made it through! Take that anxiety! We had an amazing end to this semester. We had to present our preliminary finds from our research project on the last day of the term. It was an amazing way to finish up. Getting to see everyone's hard work presented in a mock conference-style was incredible. 

Here we are, if you look super close you can see that there is a buggy in the background and a small person’s feet hanging out! Yes, listening to me present made my daughter fall asleep!... Now I know how to get her to bed early on Christmas Eve! 

Now, only four more sleeps everybody!

December 2nd, Semester 1: Managing Anxiety

Okay, the final stretch of the semester. So far this semester is going much better than this time last year! Last year, I developed extreme anxiety. I have probably always had anxiety on some level without knowing it really. Despite reading about anxiety and talking to many different people who experienced anxiety and all the bits that go with. I never recognised it in myself. I always just thought I was a bit weird! Last year though it passed my normal threshold of just negative thoughts and feeling worried about not being able to complete a task. Usually, I would take some time to myself and focus on some soul searching and in a week or two the moment would pass and I would return to normal functioning. Last year though this was not the case. I guess this time I was almost finished semester one of second year which was an achievement for me personally. The fear of not belonging or not being good enough, that someone would soon figure out that I was not a good enough student and would kick me out of college became so overwhelming. (Of course, this is a completely irrational thought, but that is the mechanism of anxiety!). 

I felt that I wasn’t doing well enough (I was really doing fine) in college and I wasn’t being a good enough mum to my daughter either. So two of the things I love more than anything imaginable, I was failing at, or at least that is what I thought. My anxiety manifested in panic attacks, which I believed to be some kind of issue with my heart (yes, really). I would shake for hours uncontrollably and was unable to sleep. I remember hearing someone talk about their anxiety and not being able to move out of bed in the morning time, in the morning they felt like a zero. After spending hours just trying to talk themselves to leave the house, they finally managed it and everything was okay. So at night time, late at night, finally they felt like a bit of a hero and could not sleep, and so the cycle would continue. 

This is anxiety. This is the dark passenger (Dexter quote), that has been around me for a very long time, the only thing with college is that I could just stay inside for two weeks until it passed. I had to keep trying to get there, trying to do my assignments, and the vicious thought pattern of ‘I’m not good enough’ is not a friend when you are doing course work!. My anxiety was crippling, the fear was so real. I have to point out here that DCU has an on-campus doctor and health centre which is staffed by some truly incredible people. They helped me work through all of my anxiety and to understand how to manage it better.  I was able to communicate my experiences to my lecturers, without their understanding and encouragement to just keep going little by little, I would not be about to finish this semester now. 

The reason I wanted to talk about this is that I know so many people who have experienced similar experiences to the one I have described. Many people might worry about not being good enough or able to complete something they really want to do. You absolutely can. If you are reading this and are really thinking that this is something you can relate to, know that anxiety or any mental health difficulty does not have to define you, it does not control you. I have learned over the last year that my anxiety is a guide, a little Jiminy Cricket (less friendly at times). My anxiety was telling me I needed to take a breather, regroup and remember what is important. My path has brought me here, and there is a bigger picture that is being built around me. I honestly believe this. I feel that Psychology in DCU has been so much more than just a college course, a thing I put down on my CAO form. It was a conscious decision that has brought me on an incredible journey of understanding my world, myself and my life. Little by little, it has rippled down through my family and huge. This course has already been so much more than just an academic education. 

Just remember...

 November 3, Week 7: Reading Week

So the weeks are flying by, we are already in week 7! This week we have a reading week. This is fantastic, it really gives everyone a great chance to get some reading in and some space to organise for the second half of the semester, as well as preparations for assignments and continuous assessments.

This year we have a big group project for our Research Methods module. It is an amazing opportunity to really see what it is like to get stuck into different types of research. I have to say this practical side of the Psychology programme is amazing! A lot of our modules have a lecture and workshop or practical based session throughout the weeks. If you are like me and you learn better by doing then this is an amazing part of Psychology at DCU! We have been building up our research methods and statistic experience over the first two years, each week theory comes in the lecture and then we have gotten a chance to run some statistical analysis in our practicals based on the theory we have covered in class. I was not a mathematical person what so ever, to say I feared numbers is putting it mildly! This module has become one of my favourites! I am not saying I am amazing at it by any ‘means’ (another statistical joke), but I love the module, something my family could never have imagined me saying... ever!

Aside from catching up on some course work, I had an amazing start to the week. On Monday, I was helping out at the World Online Learning Conference, which was an incredible experience, to say the least! It was a huge amount of fun and I got to meet some amazing people from over the world who were working or teaching in some way through an online platform.

...As you can see there was a lot of fun as well as a huge amount of organisation, work and dedication from all those involved from the National Institute for Digital Learning (NIDL) at DCU. Below is Mark one of the organisers and one of my fellow student ambassadors (I am safely behind the camera!)

Before I head off this evening, I really just want to remind you guys about the Open Days which are coming up very soon, (November 15th &16th). These days are so much fun, you get to come and visit the campus and meet some of the students and lecturers. There will be talks about the Psychology programme and a whole lot of lovely people to chat with, if this doesn't tempt you enough, I will also be there to answer (as best I can) any questions you have at all! Check out the website for more details.

The link is right here:  https://www.dcu.ie/studentrecruitment/openday

I have so much more news to tell you all but right now is bedtime, so I am off to read Christmas stories and tuck a whole lot of teddy bears into a bed while somehow fit a 3-year-old in there too.

Until next time (hopefully the weekend), wish me luck for bedtime!

October 22, Semester 1: Thinking Back

I can not believe that I am beginning week five of my third year of psychology. I have just finished preparing my CV for Intra (work placement) applications. I can not help but think back to my first week in first year…

In that beginning week, we all sat in HG50, a room that would soon become like a new home to us. I had met some of the mature students from my class already. During the Summer there was a mature student evening and then before the semester started we had the option to be involved with a mature student writing week. We all sat in that room, excitedly waiting and anxiously whispering to each other. Probably all of us still in disbelief that we had somehow managed to find ourselves here sitting in a room with some of the brightest leaving cert students in the country.

Somehow I had managed to finally get here. I had been a self-proclaimed life wanderer, weaving in and out of jobs that were underpaid and where I was overworked with huge amounts of stress and little space to grow. A person who had longed to be an excellent student in school but had fallen, unnoticed through the cracks of teenage school life like an Alice tumbling down to Wonderland. School had been a frightening experience for me in my life and probably an experience that up until that first week in 2017 sitting in a DCU lecture room, was an experience I did not wish to repeat.

As our soon to be lecturers filed into to room, making their way to the very front, all smiling and talking quieting amongst themselves I couldn’t have felt more excited. One by one, they introduced themselves to us and briefly highlighted the modules they teach on and their own area of expertise.  Almost all of them spoke in some way about how not so long ago they themselves were sitting in a room much like us and in the blink of an eye that moment had passed. It couldn’t possibly happen that way for me I thought, no way. This is going to be a long journey, four years is a ‘significant’ [psychology joke, after 1st year research methods you will get it more] amount of time and it will feel that way I thought.

The first two years of university was personally tough for me. My dad had become quite ill in the Spring of 2017. Very quickly, the mixture of caring for a sick parent while negotiating being a parent to a one-year-old, attending lectures, tutorials and practicals, volunteering and somehow squeezing in a homelife became real. It was like just one morning I woke up and all of a sudden I was an adult! 

I was alive with life, soaking up every drop of university I could, the no sleep didn’t matter because I was learning. I was learning so much about so much that I wanted to learn about, and that is honestly a life-changing thing…

But that is enough about my thinking back for now. For now, I just want anyone to know, that for me the last two years have been a test. I am not sure what the universe was testing me for but all I know is that everything that is possibly imaginable as stress has happened to me within two years. All squeezed together for maximum effect but here I am about to begin applications for a work placement and hopefully neuroscience-related (my dream).

If you are in any way thinking that you want to study psychology as a mature student or other, and if you are worried that it will be hard to manage, all I can say is, yes it is hard but you absolutely can manage it. You will absolutely not regret that choice. You will grow and develop in so many ways you never expected. I like to think in ways I am stronger after those two years, I am better for it. And all those lecturers, who might have seemed like just faces I saw on my first week, the ones who introduced themselves and their area of study to my class. Each and every one of them supported me and encouraged me to follow my dream and to keep going when things got the hardest. That is why DCU is different, I am certain that in any other place in time, I would not have survived, I would not have managed, and quite frankly I could very well be curled up in a ball somewhere crying.

And so here I am writing about it, almost halfway through my first semester of my third year as a psychology student. This can absolutely be you too (minus the personal stress of course!).  If you like Alice in Wonderland, then follow that white rabbit and let yourself fall into the madness that is the land of psychology. You will not regret it.

Lastly the DCU Open Days are on the 15th and 16th of November. These Open Days give you a great opportunity to talk to loads of people about courses that you might be interested in and you will also get to see the DCU Campus and go on a tour of the campus too. To register and find out all the info click here: https://www.dcu.ie/studentrecruitment/openday 

[shatteringzimmermann]

hello yes hi i got bored here’s part one

Shitty found him leaning heavily on the kitchen sink, the coffee pot beside him gurgling quietly.

"You okay?"

Jack glanced over his shoulder at his roommate. "Had another weird dream," he said. "I was-" he waved his hand in front of his face and he turned to lean against the sink. His eyes were shadowed and bloodshot.  "-blind. Stumbled around for what felt like hours, bumping into shit and nearly breaking my ankle falling off what must have been a curb or a rock." He cursed quietly. "There were other people there too, loads by the sound of all the voices. All blind and bitching about it."

Shitty hopped onto the island counter. His ass was a little closer to the corner than he had intended, but Jack's reoccurring-but-not-exactly-the-same dreams had been happening for months.

"And remember how I had that dream where everything was black and white until I met someone and then everything was in color?"

Shitty nodded. That was three months ago, and not even the first dream Jack had told him about.

"It was the same idea, but I guess I bumped into the right person and suddenly I could see." Jack frowned. "There was a lot of trash littered all over the place.” The crease between his eyebrows deepened. "I was wearing mismatched sneakers."

"Brah," Shitty said. "But what did they look like? Did you see them this time?"

The coffee pot chirped and Jack pulled two mugs from the cabinet. "No, but I'm starting to think it's a man," he said.

"Any reason why you might think that?"

Jack handed Shitty his Harvard Law mug and wrapped his fingers around his own Falconers one. "Just a feeling."

"Is this a...good feeling?"

Jack's right eyebrow rose.

"You know what I mean, man."

Jack hummed. "Yes, Shitty. It's cool that this mysterious person who may or may not be real but that I keep dreaming about may be male. I’m well aware I haven’t publically dated someone of any gender in years but I’m still okay with this dream person being a dude."

"Asshole."

 It made Jack smile and when he glanced out the window over the sink again he saw a flash of honey blonde hair before it disappeared in the rush of the morning commute sidewalk below.

 "Tell you what," Shitty said. "Start writing this shit down and I'll have my girlfriend paint you a book of these bizarre-ass dreams."

 "Girlfriend? When did that happen?"

 "Get that shit-eating grin off your beautiful face. It's the girl I told you about weeks ago."

 Jack hid his smile behind another sip of coffee. "Eh. She needs to pass the bathroom test."

 Shitty's mustache dipped into his light coffee, leaving the hairs looking like a paintbrush dipped in dirty water from a too-much-white canvas. "The fuckin what?"

 "Bathroom test. Marty told me he started doing it with his girlfriends over the years and his wife was one of the few who passed."

 Shitty frowned. "This isn't some sexist shit is it?"

 Jack shook his head. "When she comes over for a long weekend, how much of her girly crap takes over your bathroom?"

 "Literally none of that matters," Shitty protested. "She can do whatever she wants to feel good about herself. Why even do something this stupid anyway?"

 Jack rinsed his empty cup and tucked it into the top shelf of the dishwasher. "You're right, overall it doesn't matter. But you're not the kind of guy who wants a super high maintenance chick making him late all the time cause she’s still getting ready. You're more of a 'sorry we're late, we got stoned and were halfway through a box of donut holes before we realized the time.'"

 It made Shitty chuckle, but he shook his head. "While that last part may be true, I don't give two shits if she wants to use fruity body wash or wear makeup."

 Jack shrugged. "It's not a pass/fail text, eh? Just something to notice."

 Shitty hummed before pouring himself another mug. He’d decided, way back in high school, that relationship tests were stupid. A decade and a degree-and-a-half later, he hadn’t changed his mind. Jack, sweet, stupid Jack, hadn’t sat through entire semesters of Women’s Gender and Sexuality classes. Maybe there was a book Shitty could get Jack, maybe something comparing women’s rights from the American Revolution to modern day. It wouldn’t be as educational as having to sit through many classmates’ personal stories that still clung to his mind and changed the way he treated everyone around him, but maybe it would open the door for more conversation.

   It was barely a week later when the next dream happened. Two days after that, another. Then another and another and- Matching birthmarks, coincidentally identical tattoos, first words memorized by longing hearts. Palms that warmed when held by a soulmate.

 The dreams didn't bother Jack, per se, but the way he felt after was enough to pull him from bed and turn on the bathroom light. Dark shadows had been lining his eyes for most of his life but these dreams made it harder to pretend they weren’t there. It wasn’t sleeplessness that caused the shadows, either; Jack had always been too close with the ache in his chest. Sometimes he could keep it at an arms-length away. Sometimes it grabbed him by the waist and held him tight no matter how much Jack fought.

 Jack sat up, sheets falling to his waist, and buried his face in his hands. Breathing deeply for a few moments, Jack focused on the things he could feel and hear to ground himself in reality. He switched on the light when he finished. A history book titled 1776 sat on his nightstand and Jack pulled it off, opening it to his marked chapter.  

 The words blurred after a few pages. He sighed, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eyelids.

 He was Jack Zimmermann, the first out bisexual NHL player. He’d never had to go a day without food or shelter and had gone to the most expensive rehabilitation center in Montreal after his accidental overdose. His parents ended each twice-weekly phone call with a we love you and we are so proud of you. And Shitty, who ran into Jack in a bar bathroom after a Falconers win talking himself through the beginnings of a panic attack, had quickly turned into his best friend. He was a good roommate too, prompt with the meager rent Jack charged and ready for a snuggle when Jack’s anxiety climbed to a suffocating level. Jack could hear him snoring from across the condo; the noise had been one of the things he’d used to center himself in the now.

 Jack dropped his book back on the nightstand, tossing his bookmark on the cover and turning off the light before turning away. He grabbed the extra pillow from the other side of the bed. He hugged it against his bare chest, squeezing tightly until his lungs reminded him to exhale. The cool fabric sent a ripple of goosebumps down his back and arms. Pulling the covers over his shoulder helped, but that coldness had settled into his chest a long time ago and no amount of distant lovers, platonic snuggles, and proud parents had ever been able to warm it. They stopped it from getting worse, from every ounce of his insides turning into a deadly winter storm like the ones he weathered inside a warm home, but sometimes…sometimes his feet were too numb to walk toward the laughing brunette at the cookout Marty had over the summer and his fingers were frostbitten when he thought about reaching out to the tan-skinned man with the sweet smile at the last Pride Parade.

 The morning summer sun found Jack wearing thick sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt, eyes open and body shivering underneath enough blankets to melt ice.

 When he finally emerged from his room, still wrapped in one of the blankets, Shitty poured him a coffee and slid it across the island.

 “What was it this time?”

 Jack held the too-hot mug between his palms. “No dream,” he said.

 Shitty’s eyebrows rose as they drank in silence.

 “My last class is over at 12:30 and I could be back by 1:15,” his friend offered.

 “I thought you were hanging out with your girlfriend?”

 He spread his arms wide. “Brah. You come first.”

 “Bros before hoes?”

 “Yes, that’s right, brothers should always come before gardening tools.” It was a familiar banter. Jack’s shoulders lowered a few inches.

 “Hang out with your girl. I have meetings all day anyway.”

 It wasn’t a lie. He just had an hour and a half between his three meetings. Maybe he could manage a nap in the team room after morning skate.

 His skin prickled the second he locked the condo door, body unhappy with the lack of thick clothing in the hallway air conditioning. The few minutes he spent getting into his car and then out of it again at the rink was the only time he felt relatively warm.

 Jack’s teammates were familiar enough with his not-very-god days that no one bugged him about his sloppiness on the ice. He showered and changed quickly after Coach called the end of practice. His first meeting was with some journalists from Samwell, the college his mother went to. If he’d gone to college, Jack imagined he would have gone there. A couple of their guys had been drafted in recent years so clearly they were of elite caliber. Johnson and Oluransi, if he remembered right.

 The journalism students were nice; professional and understandably nervous. Jack made sure to chat with them for a few minutes before the interview started. Idle chit chat to get them used to him, to the way he spoke, to get over the fact that on my god that’s Jack Zimmermann. Their questions were ranged: everything from how he managed to still be drafted six years ago despite missing a full year of competition, to the charity he started in Providence.

“So much of my life has been obsessed with hockey. I wanted to create something that had nothing to do with it. This Colorful Home is about finding safe, long-term foster families for queer youth. No one deserves to become homeless or forced into unhealthy and dangerous living conditions because of their orientation or identity. I was raised by amazing and supportive parents who love me, not despite my mental health issues or my sexuality, but including them. They are the majority of why I'm still alive today. And-and the thought of children not having the same support system because of who they are-” He shook his head. “It's unacceptable.”

The students were all leaning back in their seats, faces paler than earlier. Jack huffed a quiet laugh. After a silence that had Jack reaching seven before anyone spoke again, there were a few more questions until the students were finished. He made sure to take photos and pass out signed t-shirts.

 When they left Jack retreated to the team room. There was no one else around to notice when he stopped hiding the way his hands shook. No one saw him go through his grounding routine or press the heels of his palms in his eyes. He'd gotten good at making people believe his anxiety was well-controlled and easy to live with. It's part of why he almost always agreed to interviews; the more normalized he can make bisexuality, the more people will realize he’s not a walking petri dish of STIs. The more normalized he can make anxiety, the less it will involve silent, life-long struggles. Maybe he could keep someone else from overdosing, someone who doesn’t have a teammate to find them before it was too late.

He was back to his media-ready façade for his next interview. It’s with a reporter from the local newspaper, an older woman Jack respected more than most people who got one-on-ones with him. Her questions always required more than the blanket “Well, we need to get the puck in the net” kind of responses. She never looked annoyed when he took too long to respond. Hopefully she wasn’t just pretending to be fine with it but calling him an idiot in her head.

Jack didn’t tremble as much after this interview, but it’s easier to handle a smaller chat than one with a bunch of people he didn’t know. There was still no chance of a nap. He sat on the overstuffed couch again, lights off, and did enough deep breathing that he got lightheaded.

His last interview was to brainstorm ideas for his upcoming You Can Play campaign. A few other guys in the league were out – Oluransi being one of them – and Jack wanted to do something with all of them. For starters, they’d all been using pride tape for every game. The tape company had even started making more color pairings for more sexualities.

That’s where Jack had gotten the idea for the name of his charity. Most non-LGBTQIA people didn’t realize the amount of colorful flags made for specific orientations. Jack had googled them and scrolled through for nearly two hours, reading the descriptions and history of all of them. So many colors, so many people, choosing to celebrate themselves. Jack had bought a bisexual one immediately.

His sticks were always wrapped in the blue, purple, and pink tape made especially for him. Trilman, a forward on the Schooners, used it too. Oluransi used the rainbow as did four other players. The Devils’ goalie used a black, purple, and white tape for asexuality.

By the time Jack dumped himself into his car a lose plan had been formed: This summer, post-Cup, all the out players would go on a US and Canada tour to speak to youth teams. Jack wasn’t sure how much it would help, to speak out against homophobia, transphobia, and racism in sports, but he had a list of colleges and junior teams to call over the next few weeks. It was a start.

Shitty found him less than an hour later, curled up on the couch in the blanket Jack had left there that morning. Jack wasn’t asleep – far from it- and his eyes ached as Shitty wrapped himself around Jack. He smelled faintly of weed and hot wings and cheap beer. When Jack could finally feel enough of himself to speak again his voice was hoarse.

“How as your date?”

“Fun. You’ll like her. She’s cool as hell.”

“Hell is hot.”

Shitty patted his cheek with a condescending touch. “It’s a good thing you’ve got that wonderful hockey ass,” he said, smiling.

Jack hummed, wishing he could rub his eyes but Shitty was latched on too tightly. “I think my baby cup pictures negate any attractiveness.”

After a pause Shitty rearranged himself so he straddled Jack’s lap, weight carefully held off of the knee that had been plaguing Jack for several years. Holding Jack’s face in his hands, Shitty told him, softly but firmly, “Everyone is embarrassed by shit they did as a kid. Your brain likes to remind you about it more than the non-mentally-ill person’s brain, yes, but what you did as a baby- or even something you did last week- doesn’t detract from your attractiveness.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest but Shitty continued. “Brah, you didn’t kill anyone or steal candy from any babies. And while we are definitely going to have a talk about that stupid bathroom test you’re not any less attractive or less worthy of love because of the struggles you’ve gone through.”

He felt the immediate tension in Jack’s jaw. “You’re my best friend, and nothing is going to change that.”

Jack had to pull his face away. Shitty pressed his hands on Jack’s shoulders instead. The pressure was enough for Shitty to feel the way his friend’s heart was pounding in his chest. Jack’s expression wasn’t one he recognized though; years of friendship and all he could tell was that Jack’s heart was breaking, and he didn’t know why.

“Brah,” he said, squeezing his hands gently. “You can talk to me about anything.”

Jack kept his mouth firmly shut but nodded. His gaze was hard, directed over Shitty’s shoulder. The only thing for him to stare at there was a blank section of the wall. Maybe he would put his next photo print there.

Twenty minutes later Shitty was sitting beside Jack, watching Netflix with Shitty’s legs draped over Jack’s lap. The blanket was spread over them, jostling every time Shitty laughed.

Jack was asleep before the end of the third episode.

[astrofireworks]

childhood anon i know i said part 2 would be fluffy!Binu but i am also trash that has to deliver that in the next part so here we go 

Bin peering out his main door at the apartment next door 

There's been movers all morning and he just wants to see who it is that's taking Eunwoo's room 

Sleeping in Eunwoo's room 

(He wants to know if Eunwoo left his glow-in-the-dark stickers up or if he brought it along with him to wherever he went) 

Smol Rocky popping up in the corner of Bin's eye 

"Hi!! I'm Park Minhyuk!!!!!!" 

Bin blinking at this bean, this smol person the universe sent him to replace his beautiful, smiling, kind Eunwoo 

Rocky beaming at Bin and waiting for him to respond

Only to have Bin turning around and disappearing into his own house 

Rocko staring confusedly and slightly sadly at Bin's door 

When Bin is 8.6 and Rocky is 7.5:

Rocky's mum holding his hand and bringing him over to meet the neighbours 

Rocky bouncing on the balls of his feet because look!! He's going to make a new friend!!!! 

Bin's mum answering the door with a smile and her hand on SuA's hair 

Bin's mum calling out for him to come meet the new neighbour boy !!!! A new friend !! 

Bin trudging to the door because he doesn't want to make friends with anyone who isn't Eunwoo 

Rocky beaming at this grumpy boy because hey, who doesn't want to be friends with this amazing child Park Minhyuk? 

Nobody, that's who 

And so he wiggles over to Bin and reaches up to place his fingers in Bin's forehead and rubbing it in small, soft circles the same way his mum does when she tries to get him to stop crying 

And this is how Bin meets his second best friend, eyes red and sniffling and thinking of Eunwoo 

When Bin's mum tells the story Bin cringes in embarrassment and Rocky howls with laughter because it does seem to be a trend with Bin and his best friends 

When Bin is 9 and Rocky is 7.9:

Rocky: "hyung, I'm scared" 

Bin: "of what? You're the one who made me sign up with you" 

Rocky: "what if I can't dance?" 

Bin, shoving Rocky slightly: 

Rocky, pouting: 

Bin, sighing and rubbing Rocky's forehead because "you can, you idiot, I believe in you" 

Rocky, beaming:

Because that's what you do when you're best friends

You believe in each other 

When Bin is 9.1 and Rocky is 8 and Jinjin is 10.9:

Rocky, rubbing Bin's forehead: "it's just a B, it's fine!! it doesn't even count into your final grade anyway" 

Bin, wailing because he's never gotten a B in his life 

This is the first B since Eunwoo left and he doesn't know how to deal and just ??

What if he gets a C the next time??

What if he fails?????????? 

Bin wailing even louder and Rocko pressing his fingers against Bin's forehead even harder to comfort his friend 

Jinjin, walking into this really weird scene of Rocky having his hand on Bin's forehead and Bin sobbing and clutching a test paper: 

Jinjin:

Jinjin: "uh ok Dance Practice starts in half an hour so if you could clean up??" 

Rocko, glaring because is Bin in any way fit to dance rn? 

Jinjin: 

Jinjin: "ur right ok" 

Jinjin sitting down next to Binnie and telling him about the first time he got a B and how his mum practically disowned him 

Rocko, glaring even harder: 

Jinjin choking and telling Bin that she laughed like less than half a minute later and told him that if that was the response he expected, he was wrong because she's his mother and she'll love him through all his Bs and he should never ever worry about disappointing her because he's already the pride and joy of her life 

Smol Jinjin sniffling and hugging his mum around the waist and never daring to dip below an A again 

Rocky nodding in acceptance

Bin stopping his sniffling and hugging both Rocko and Jinjin

Jinjin casually disentangling himself from Bin's snotty nose and putting on some music so they can start Dance Practice early 

Bin's mum doesn't know about this incident still, but whenever Rocky tells the story of how they became friends with Jinjin Bin cringes in embarrassment and Jinjin howls with laughter 

When Bin is 12.2 and Rocky is 11.1 and Jinjin is 14: 

Bin and Rocky and their junior Chani low-key freaking out over the dance showcase next week 

Jinjin laughing and watching them dance and telling them that "you guys look good, stop worrying, you're always in sync and it's great" 

Three of them practicing every day, every minute, all the way to the showcase 

Jinjin constantly being there for them with water bottles and towels 

Youngbin and Jinjin, jokingly reminding them that they have to do this when it's the seniors' showcase next semester before shoving them backstage 

Rocky and Bin trembling slightly because this is it, this is what they've poured their blood, sweat and tears into for the past two months 

Chani looking at Youngbin and Jinjin with wide, doe eyes shining with apprehension 

Jinjin softening and pressing his fingers against all three foreheads and rubbing them in turn: "you'll do fine, kids. I believe in you." 

Because that's what you do when you're best friends 

You believe in each other 

Bin and Rocky, beaming like the sun at Jinjin when they take a bow from the stage 

When Bin is 16 and Rocky is 14.9 and Jinjin is 17.8: 

Bin sitting Rocky and Jinjin down in his bedroom 

SuA poking her head in to say hi to the boys who've become fixtures in the Moon household over the past 7 years

Rocky and Jinjin joking around and shoving gently at each other and cackling 

Bin swallowing hard and looking down at his hands and quietly asking them for their attention 

Rocky and Jinjin slowing down and peeking at Bin

Bin folding his legs beneath him and nervously picking at his fingernails 

Usually it's Jinjin who's serious and asking them to listen and Rocky is ??? shook? 

Bin, telling them in the softest voice about how he's known, he's always known, even before he met Rocky, that he's always liked boys and that while he's always down for appreciating girls he's never like-liked one and he thinks, he's not entirely sure, but he thinks and he believes that 

He might be gay? 

Jinjin knee-waddling over to Binnie and folding as much of Bin as he can into his arms then letting go pressing his fingers gently against Bin's forehead 

Because it's okay, it really is, Bin

He appreciates the courage it took for Bin to tell them but

Binnie needn't be afraid that Jinjin will love him less because whoever Bin chooses to love, he's still the same Bin who spilled coffee onto Jinjin's homework that one time and Jinjin already couldn't love him less 

Bin snorting and shoving Jinjin with one hand and wiping red eyes with the other 

Rocky silently staring at Bin until Jinjin glares at him 

Rocko shrugging and saying, "I never had to tell you guys I was straight, so I don't see why Bin has to tell me he isn't." 

Bin bursting out in tears because 

He knows they were okay with it, they always were

But hearing them reaffirm it again? 

His heart is warm and full and !!!!!!!!! 

Rocky snuggling up into Binnie's side 

Warm, happy 3stro !!!!!!! 

When Bin is 19.2 and Rocky is 18.1 and Jinjin is 21:

Jinjin already at college and coming back every weekend to spend time with his family & Moonrock 

Binnie stressing out because he still has to pick a college out of those that accepted him and he really isn't sure which one is best for him

(He's already picked, but he likes to pretend that the fact that Youngbin and Jinjin are at that college doesn't weigh in on the decision) 

Rocko getting frustrated at his idiot of a best friend and threatening to burn all his acceptance letters if Bin doesn't pick the one he knows Bin set his heart on the moment Jinjin accepted the offer

He's not saying he didn't set his heart on it then too 

When Binnie is 19.7 and Rocky is 18.6 and Jinjin is 21.5: 

Rocko hammering hard at his midterm exams 

Jinjin helping Bin pack his room up because he's moving to college in a week and his stuff is everywhere and he doesn't really know what to bring that Jinjin doesn't already have 

Bin carefully packing his BTOB & BTS albums and Jinjin rolling up Bin's Jungkook poster 

Bin opening a box under his bed that he hasn't opened in ten years 

A plant encyclopaedia and a somewhat useless magnifying glass 

A small foam sword 

A soft, faded hoodie dotted with suns and moons and stars 

Bin smiling softly and rubbing the hoodie between his fingers and hearing a small crinkling sound

A small, handwritten note Bin’s run his fingers across and folded and unfolded so many times that the paper’s worn and the pencil marks are faded

Bin remembering what Eunwoo wrote, word for word for word, because he read it so many times the day Eunwoo left he can taste on the tip of his tongue Eunwoo’s words the same way he can taste the ache in his heart, as familiar and tear-stained and bittersweet as their kiss

Jinjin breaking in and asking if Bin would like him to take the glow-in-the-dark stars from around the room 

Bin opening his mouth to tell him that no, there's no point bringing because they don't glow anymore

But his fingers are caught on the note, tucked safely in the pocket of the small, kid-sized hoodie and Bin finds himself saying yes, yes he'd like to bring them to university, please 

Jinjin shrugging and making a mental note to buy some new ones for Bin anyway because these ones don't seem to work anymore and there's never having too many glow-in-the-dark stars, right? 

When Bin is 19.7 and Rocky is 18.6 and Jinjin is 21.5 and a few hours later: 

Bin and Jinjin going down to the garden that evening and trying to identify plants using the encyclopaedia Bin found under his bed 

Jinjin, squinting at the book and back up at the plant: "I think that's a Mandevilla??????" 

Bin, softly: "that's a Bougainvillea bush" 

Jinjin, flipping the pages and peering at the page in quickly dimming dusk-light: "huh I think you're right" 

Bin: "and that's why there aren't any apples" 

And when he looks up in confusion, Bin has a funny sort of smile on his face that leaves Jinjin silent

When Bin is 19.8 and Rocky is 18.7 and Jinjin is 21.6: 

Binnie shifting into his room in the freshman dorm in his college and Jinjin and his roommate helping out 

MJ's delightful and from the stories Bin's heard about him, which are numerous in number because Jinjin will literally Never Shut Up about MJ, he's dumb and funny and will essentially complete 4stro when Rocky moves in the year after

Bin’s roommate shifting in just when MJ places the last star on the wall 

And Binnie yelping in surprise because look!! It’s Youngbin!! 

Except it isn’t, because Youngbin’s just helping his cousin Taeyang move in 

Everyone laughing because look at this room, with a Moon Bin and a Taeyang and Binnie already decorating his half of the room with glow-in-the-dark stars and Taeyang pulling out another pack

Youngbin, laughing: “it’s practically a solar system in here”

Bin, smiling and agreeing because that’s how it’s always been, he’s always been Space Boy 

It’s just now, after finding the box that he, for some reason, has brought along and tucked under his new bed, that he suddenly remembers he’s missing his Flower Prince

When Bin is 20.2 and Rocky is 19.1 and Jinjin is 22 and MJ is 24.1:

Rocko with his head bent over books some miles away, slaving away at final exams 

Bin and Jinjin and MJ with their heads bent over books at a small, cosy cafe and slaving away at midterms 

Bin looking up from his essay and stretching and yawning like a big cat and grabbing a sip of his now-cold coffee

Bin glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows

And it’s a flash, it’s only a split-second glance, but Bin swears he’s dreamt of that face before 

He’s dreamt of those big eyes and long lashes and that gentle, kind smile before, he knows it, and for some reason his heart starts aching in ways he thought he’d forgotten

Bin bursting out of the cafe, looking left and right on a busy street, crowded with students flushing from one class to the next 

But it’s gone, the face is gone and its look is slowly slipping from Bin’s memory like cubed ice on warm palms 

And when he returns to his seat by the window with MJ and Jinjin peering concernedly at him, he smiles weakly 

And tells them a story about a Space Boy and his Flower Prince

i swear part 3 will come tomorrow and there will be a messy baby Sanha