#so people who were a good 5+ inches taller than me used to get my unwanted jeans that were too short

[battywitch]

It's such a minor thing, I know, but it irritates the hell out of me when people review pants, skirts, etc length by just stating their height because that means almost nothing.

[warping-realities]

Keeping Up With Old Friends (by the best of all @dumb-and-jocked & @callmecallmecrazy

It's a great pleasure to make images for this collaboration between two of my favorite authors. I had permission from both of them to do this and I spent a considerable amount of time trying to be up to par with their work, I don't know if I managed it but I still hope it's to your liking.

“Phil? Is that you?” Geoff could’ve sworn the man in front of him was an old classmate of his, having been lab partners their freshman year. The two had connected fairly well, with Geoff having hung out with the free-thinking, pot-smoking, curly-haired flower child a lot more than he thought he would. Except, scruffy and shaggy Phil was replaced with tailored-beard and straightened-locks Phil. Not only that, but his usual oversized hoodie and sweats had been replaced with a properly fit tee and jeans.

“Geoff! Hey man, how’s it going.” His voice was still the same lively and flamboyant pitch that it had always been. Phil met his friend in a hug over the cash register, squeezing Geoff a little harder than he had been prepared for.

“Surprised to see you here,” Geoff half-joked, knowing that the old Phil would never come close to a shopping mall, let alone a department store. If the job wasn’t so easy and the pay wasn’t so good, Geoff wouldn’t have ever entered either. Too bad college was so expensive.

“Ha! Yeah man, turns out they have some good stuff! Plus, it’s close to where I live.”

“Oh, did you finally move out of the dorms?”

“Yeah, I moved into the Kappa Sigma Alpha house.” The big smile he offered was met by a wide-eyed stare from Geoff. Phil was a free spirit, one who practically came out of the ‘60s. Last they’d talked, he’d been planning on living at an eco-friendly miniature house, certainly not at “prespter-prick incorporated”.

“What happened to living green?”

“Ya know, I wanted a change.” Phil shoved his hands into his pockets. “Plus, college loans are really bringing me down. I needed to save some money and fast. My uncle got me an in with the fraternity; he’s an alum.”

“Aren’t they, like, totally pretentious?” Geoff countered. “We used to joke about those preppy freaks and their smug arrogance.” 

Phil frowned, his expression made it seem as if he’d taken personal offense.

“Hey man, they’re cool. After my uncle had pointed out that I was a legacy, I got headhunted by the rush chair.  I’m not one of those over-confident princes having yacht parties and spending time at the country club.” Geoff’s tense muscles eased a little, causing Phil to smile. “I don’t think they do that kinda stuff anymore anyway.”  

He glanced at his phone, and then back at Geoff. Getting the message, Geoff quickly processed his items and had Phil pay. He was surprised to see Phil was buying more normal clothes. Cheap, standard tops and bottoms that were neither flamboyant or tame: just generic.

“Hey man, great seeing you,” Phil concluded the conversation politely. “Maybe we’ll hang out sometime? I gotta get back to the house!”

Geoff watched Phil walk out, noticing how well he filled out his jeans. The Phil he knew had been a short, skinny beanpole, similar to Geoff’s height but with less pudge. However, the new Phil’s buttocks had developed a sort of plumpness, just barely curving the pants out awkwardly as he walked away. 

“That was so strange,” Geoff said aloud, but he assumed that people changed. Phil seemed happy and healthy, and as long as he was saving money Geoff was happy for him. Maybe he always wanted to join a frat?

For the rest of his shift, Geoff continued thinking about the peculiar interaction, but by the end of the day he was too exhausted to think about anything. Once he had gotten back to his dorm, he lethargically changed and jumped into his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

— —

“Phil? Is that you?” The big man standing in front of the counter didn’t exactly physically resemble Phil. He was fairly big at about 5 ‘10 (a few inches taller than Phil) and the Henley shirt he wore couldn’t hide the beginnings of bulging pecs. And his hair, last time uncoiled but still at shoulder-length, was sheared down, pushed up, and shiny from cheap gel. The face was still the same, even though the hair made his face look a little square.

The young man looked back at Geoff confused for a moment before a tinge of understanding glittered in his eyes.

“Geoff Elliot,” his voice was noticeably slower and deeper than last time. While Geoff went in for a hug, Phil replied with a one-armed embrace and pat on the back. He practically grimaced when Geoff attempted for more affection.

“Phil! Man, it’s been awhile. I haven’t seen you since your last time here.”

“Yes, Geoff, I’ve been very busy with school. And please, call me Phillip, it’s more traditional.”

“Wow, still living with the Kappa Sigmas?”

“Yes, I’ve been acquainting very well. What about you, Geoff?”

“Oh ya know, I’m still in old Walker. It isn’t great, but it’s definitely got a sweet spot in the middle of campus.”

“Living comfortably?”

“Ha, you know I’m not.”

“I can tell,” Phillip noted Geoff’s pale skin and tired eyes. Geoff was taken aback by the outright disdain.

“Well, I’ve got to work if I want to get a degree.” Phillip just nodded, causing Geoff to carry the conversation. “You’re looking good. Do the Kappa Sigmas expect gym time?”

“Yes,” Phillip’s stern demeanor dropped a touch, allowing a bit more levity in his voice. “There’s an expansive gym at the country club. It’s free and they even give you a few hours a day to use it!” 

He was practically giddy as he talked, allowing Geoff to relax a bit. This was the Phil he knew, chirpy and friendly though now not as exceptionally outgoing. And if Geoff was being honest, Phil seemed extremely content with his new situation. 

“Have you picked up any sports? It seems like you’ve got the bod now,” Geoff joked, knowing that Phil hated physical activity. He playfully slapped one of Phil’s broad shoulders and was shocked at how firm the muscle was.

“I’ve been doing a lot of golf! I play with several of the other guys and even some of my uncle’s coworkers. I’m getting my handicap down too.”

“Oh, you’re playing golf?” Geoff hadn’t expected an answer, but if one came he would’ve guessed football or baseball–not golf.

“Yes, it’s very enjoyable. And great for business bonding. Chance for us men to talk about the frat, women, sports and the like. Say, you watch the game last weekend?”

That was wholly unlike Phil, but Geoff guessed he was probably throwing himself into the fraternity world.

“Nah, man, I’m not into basketball.”

“It’s football season.” His reply was so direct and unvarnished that Geoff had to grip the counter for support. “I know not everyone is into the NFL, but I assumed you would at least watch like any other man. And our team is having an exceptionally great season. 4-0 in conference play.”

Phillip kept talking about football as Geoff stared deep into his eyes. Was this really Phil? The guy used to pretend like he didn’t know what sports were. What was happening to him?

“Anyway, Geoff, it’s been great catching up,” Phillip said, dumping his items onto the register. Geoff was surprised to notice that Phil was purchasing only name brand items. Not expensive, but not generic either. “Maybe we can grab some beers and watch a game sometime.” 

Phillip hastily paid for all of his items and walked out. Geoff couldn’t help but notice the increasingly larger derrière. His buttocks had developed a shelf-like quality, curving the cheap khakis out as he walked away. Its slight jiggling motion was a stunning contrast to the hard muscle covering the rest of his body.

“Yeah, great to see you Phil-lip,” Geoff forced out the last syllable. This was not the Phil he knew, but instead some dude named Phillip. Geoff continued on with the rest of his shift, the interaction slipping from his mind at the end of the day when he collapsed into bed.

— —

“Phil? Is that you? I mean, Phillip?” Geoff had hoped he wouldn’t see him again after their last encounter, but when he saw this barely-familiar-looking man his curiosity got the best of him. He told himself it was all in his head, but everything about these encounters were disturbing. Geoff wasn’t sure if it was steroids as his former buddy’s growth seemed extremely quick, but it could’ve just been the sudden makeover too. What was even crazier was the man next to him was somehow larger.

This Phillip was 6’4 and wore a baby blue oxford button-up with a yellow and blue striped repp tie. The shirt looked ready to burst as it was tight against the two firm mounds sticking out of the young man’s chest. On top of the set was a two-button navy blazer with the letters KE on the left side, which Geoff assumed stood for Kappa Sigma. His hair was much different, for the overgrown shag was now neatly cut, with short sides and tapered across the crown. The ivy league was sharply parted on the left side and held sturdily in place by an expensive looking pomade. Not only had his hair transformed, but his face had undergone a dramatic change too. His jaw, formerly a little pointed and sharp, spread wide and hung low, giving his face a distinguished lantern shape to match his newly-cleft chin. 

This Phillip stood ramrod straight while searching through a rack of new suits from Brooks Brothers. The man next to Phillip was older but otherwise nearly identical. He was thicker around the middle, but any gut he might have was hidden by the extremely high rise of his pants, sitting above his belly button just under the rib cage. His tie was black and grey with a subtle windowpane pattern, and his suit shared a similar palette.

The other man stared at Geoff for a moment before tapping Phillip on the shoulder.

“Pierson,” his voice was slow and deep. “I believe this boy is trying to get your attention.” 

The younger man turned towards the counter to see Geoff. A faint bit of recognition crossed his face momentarily.

“Geoff Elliot.” The voice was practically monotone, low and deep. He took a few powerful steps forward and offered a large, coarse handshake.

“Uncle,” Phillip turned to face the older man. “This is a friend from college, Geoff Elliot. Geoff, this is my uncle.” He gestured robotically between the two. The uncle offered his hand and it was the same rough shake.

“Nice to meet you…” Geoff sort of trailed off, hoping to get a first name.

“John Howard Johnson.” The reply was colorless. “Mr. Johnson will do.”

“Alright,” Geoff simply replied. “So, Phillip-”

“Please call me Pierson,” Phillip said curtly. “My uncle thinks I would be better suited professionally as Pierson.” The way he spoke, extremely even in both rhythm and pitch, was unnerving.

Geoff could make out some of Phil’s features in the hulking face before him. An upturned nose and naturally thin eyebrows over wide eyes resembled the Phil he knew. But the rest of the face clearly belonged to this cocky fratboy named Pierson.

“Okay, Pierson. So, any news about Greek Life?”

“I am very happy with the Kappa Sigmas. Life there is perfectly preppy.”

“That’s great. Glad to hear you’re doing good!”

“Yes, my uncle believes after college I will be an ideal candidate for his company, Hemplebaum Inc..”

“That place downtown with office drones filling foreclosures and manipulating bank accounts?”

“Correct,” Pierson stated blatantly.

“Huh, okay.” Geoff was getting sick of this conversation, and of this act. There was obviously something going on here, so he decided to just ask about it flat out.

“How long are you going to keep this up, Phil?”

“Pierson.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Geoff retorted. He knew it probably wasn’t best to argue with customers during his shift, but this was more important than a job. “How are you willing to sell your soul to some frat? We used to joke about these guys! Can’t you see something is wrong?”

“I’m offended by your tone, Geoff. And honestly,” he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves while disgustingly eyeing Geoff’s uniform. “I grew up. You could do with some growing.”

“You’ve grown into a mindless fratboy.”

“And you, Geoff, are still a child. We ‘mindless fratboys’ are very well groomed and dressed. We speak with clarity and courtesy, and are diligent and helpful. We truly represent the apex of manhood.”

“Pierson,” Mr. Johnson suddenly interrupted the argument. Pierson stiffened up and faced his uncle. “I’m glad you had this chance to catch up with your acquaintance, but we have wasted time.”

“Of course, Uncle.” 

They turned to leave, but Pierson swiftly reached into a blazer pocket and pulled out a thick black card. 

“If you ever decide to grow up.” Pierson placed it on the register before he and his uncle left, giving Geoff a good look at their backsides. Despite the broad shoulders and bulging pectorals, both had a distinctly pear shaped body, with wide hips and massive butts that shook just a touch as they walked. Pierson’s rump was especially luscious, bouncing around inside those tight, pastel madras shorts. It gave Geoff a boner as he watched it wiggle. Sure, the man was the monster that replaced his old friend, but he had to admit the new douchebag look was kind of hot.

Geoff grabbed the card from the counter and examined it. It was a thick card stock and slightly textured with the Greek letters obnoxiously large in one corner. Right in the middle read “Pierson Buckley Folsom VI,” infuriating Geoff. That was absolutely not his last name, in fact none of those were his names! Had he changed his entire personality to fit in with these people?  Had Phil been putting on a fake persona the entire time he was in college? Was this who he truly was? Geoff calmed himself down before reasoning that the name changing was a deeper sign. This whole thing had become so ridiculous he couldn’t just ignore it. He’d have to do some investigating.

— —

“This is Pierson Buckley Folsom VI.” 

Geoff didn’t actually want to go through with his plan, but he had to make an attempt. If he could insert himself safely into this Pierson’s friend group, he might just be able to figure out what happened to Phil. Sure, Geoff wasn’t really built for the whole undercover thing, but he owed it to his old friend. Plus, Geoff knew if he let the matter sit, it would just continue to haunt him.

“Hey, Pierson. This is Geoff.” 

“Hello Geoff, how may I assist you?” He was already straight to the point.

“Well, you know I was thinking about what you said back in the mall. Growing up and all that stuff.”

“Ah,” Pierson’s stale voice came from the other end. “I assume you are interested in becoming a Kappa Sigma then?”

“Yes.” Geoff swallowed before continuing, “I would like to become a Kappa Sigma.”

“If that is so,” Pierson began monotonously. “We have a rush event this weekend at the Rolling Acres Country Club. Come golfing this weekend, I know you will enjoy it.”

“That sounds exciting!” It totally did not. He did not want to go to a rush event in the most posh, expensive neighborhood in the city. “What do I need to wear? I’m sure they have a dress code.”

“Meet me at the Kappa Sigma house before. I will have appropriate clothing.”

“Sounds good, thank you for your help, Pierson.”

“You are welcome, Geoff.” 

And just like that, the plan was in motion. This weekend, Geoff would be infiltrating enemy territory, so it was now time to do some research. He didn’t want to be suspicious, but as far as he could tell, the only person who thought something was amiss was him.

— —

The Kappa Sigma Alpha house was a well-built, classic home that looked like it belonged in Connecticut or somewhere else classy. The elegant mansion was extremely large, just like all of its brothers. It was so huge in fact that it had a room strictly dedicated for watching football, and that wasn’t even the media room! According to Pierson, there was a room with a movie projector on another floor. The football room was just a man cave according to him, except it was a sunlit, high-ceilinged game room. It was about five times bigger than the dorm Geoff was currently living in, which was only half the size of Pierson’s room.  

When Pierson had answered the door, he was dressed in a full monochromatic suit.

Geoff had expected something more casual, so he was wearing a faded pair of khakis and a plaid button-up. Geoff’s bulkier counterpart was intensely embarrassed by his attire and insisted he put on one of his old suits. Geoff thought about protesting, but instead allowed it. He fit quite well in it, as Pierson’s old suit was from Phil’s era. Geoff hated the whole dress-up ordeal, but he needed to fit in as much as possible, and to do that he would have to do everything Pierson said. 

“Are we going golfing in suits?” Geoff asked innocently, unsure if they’d actually be participating in the sport.

“That’s absurd!” Pierson remarked, his tone just barely leaving its usual flat level as he dodged the question. “We will be changing at the club.”

Geoff couldn’t imagine how most people showed up dressed like this, but he would do whatever made Pierson comfortable. And apparently, the change had been necessary. After they got past the gate and into the main clubhouse, every man he passed had a tie on. Some of the brothers were already dressed in polos and khaki shorts, with the color of their outfits being the only way Geoff could figure out who was who. After Pierson had checked them in for the rush event, they headed to the lockers to change. Once the two had stripped, Pierson handed Geoff a small white piece of fabric. Geoff was horrified to find it was a pair of whitey-tighties, completely generic besides a tiny logo and a thin, blue line running through the band.

“What,” Geoff asked. “Dude, seriously?”

“All of us wear them,” Pierson blatantly stated, showing how he had stripped down to his own. Geoff had only noticed Pierson’s behind before, but now he took his chance to examine the whole body. Pierson was thick from below his pecs down to his butt, no real waistline. The holes for the legs in Pierson’s briefs clung tightly to his thighs, making the curve of his extremely wide buttocks stand out. His bulge was extremely pronounced too, pushing the briefs to their limit. Everything about Pierson was just so big nowadays, his proportions practically comic level. He looked good.

Knowing he had to do it, Geoff quickly stepped into the briefs. The briefs made their way up both of his legs and finally began to engulf his private regions. He pulled the waistband up and let them sink into place. The bright, white fabric comfortably held his body from the tip-top of thighs to just above his pubic bush.

“Let me help you with those.” 

Pierson glided over to Geoff and dutifully pulled the briefs higher, a lot higher. Geoff’s belly button was now completely hidden, giving him a slight wedgie and his small package an even smaller moose knuckle. His flat bottom seemed more vertical than ever, and his 3-inch soft dick was nowhere near whatever Pierson was packing. Geoff should have been in pain, he should have been protesting, but something had subtly changed inside of him. The moment was deceptively erotic, something overly-personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in. The look of disgust he originally had on his face had faded away, replaced with a simple, charming smile.

With that done, Pierson handed Geoff some pink Bermuda shorts and a blue polo, each made of a stretchy and breathable material.

“You sure these are mine?” Geoff asked, noticing that the sizes were much too large. “I’m not sure I’ll fit.”

“I’m certain we’re the same size, Geoff.” Pierson replied, putting on his own set. The striped Hampton Lime polo he wore beautifully accentuated his pectoral shelf and–after being tucked into some tight cobalt Bermuda shorts–his blooming muscle gut. Geoff didn’t actually know the names of the hues, Pierson had strictly informed him beforehand. Pulled up to rest just below Pierson’s brief’s waistband, the shorts were held up by a fashionable belt that Geoff knew had a price tag with at least 3 digits. The shorts not only continued to advertise Pierson’s laughably large bottom, but also displayed powerful calves that looked as if they were stolen from a marble statue.

Although Pierson was certain they were the same size, they most certainly were not. Geoff was not surprised when his outfit failed to fit. The belt he had barely kept the shorts from falling, and even though the shirt was tucked in, it still draped over him more like a curtain. Unlike the briefs that had fit perfectly, the clothes were meant for a man much larger than him. A fraternity brother.

The final pieces were short, plain white socks and a pair of large golf shoes. Once again, Pierson had insisted the two were the same size, but Geoff knew his feet would never fit in the Size 14 giants. Even after tying the tightest knot he could, the shoes were still fairly roomy and loose, causing Geoff to focus intensely on every step in hopes of not tumbling over. Sighing in defeat, he noticed a small emblem on one of his socks, the same he had seen before on the briefs. He checked the other sock, and then also found it on his polo over the left breast. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, Geoff inquired about it.

“I don’t think I recognize this brand,” he started. “Are we wearing Ralph Lauren?”

“Not exactly,” Pierson replied, who had also finished getting dressed. “It’s a partner brand of Polo Ralph Lauren that made an exchange with the Carmichael Corporation. Apparently some financial deal.”

“What is the Carmichael Corporation?”

“They are an investing partner with Hemplebaum. The two often work together on acquisition projects. The event today is co-hosted by both companies. A lot of Kappa Sigma Alpha’s alum actually work at the companies, as the pair and the fraternity are continually functioning together. Almost like a cycle, I assume.” Pierson chuckled at that.

“I see.” Geoff smiled at the new piece of evidence. Not only did he just find that a company was in on the ordeal, but three. There was definitely something peculiar about this “financial deal,” and whatever these Hemplebaum and Carmichael organizations were, they had to be behind the disappearance of Phil.

The two then made their way out to the course. A plethora of young, muscular men and older counterparts were already golfing away, chatting merrily about subjects Geoff knew he had no interest in. Stocks and economical talk were topics that were unsurprisingly extremely boring. Pierson made sure to introduce as many people as he could as they walked along, and Geoff made sure to mentally write down each suspect in his head. 

There was Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV from Carmichael, a man slightly older than the pair but identical in size and manner to Pierson. He was wearing a violet polo, docksiders, and light gray madras shorts. Then there was Henderson Harold Hearst from Hemplebaum; he shared the same age and exaggerated proportions with Pierson’s uncle, Mr. Johnson, who was also there. He was wearing a white sports polo, black golf cap, and a pair of golf trousers that somehow expanded over his massive thighs, showing off Mr. Hearst’s thick trunks and amble, jiggly buttocks that pressed generously backwards. 

There were a plethora of other businessmen that were also introduced to Geoff along the way. Keating Eckley Whitlyn, Jr. from Carmichael; Emerson Foley Gillingham-Smyth from Carmichael; Rotterham Casper Cornelius Southard from Hemplebaum; John Millard Koehler III from Carmichael. All the titles and accentuated names made Geoff’s head want to explode, but he hadn’t even met a quarter of the populus yet. There were still all the Kappa Sigma boys with names like Thurston F. Walbridge IV, Wyndham Judge Kilbourn V, and Hunt Johnstonbough. Geoff couldn’t understand how people remembered all of these obsessive, extensive, and money-grubbing men and their names. All of the businessmen and fraternity brothers were just a bunch of wealthy blockheads.

A sharp, static shock zipped inside of Geoff’s high-waisted briefs, causing him to pause momentarily. The shock sent a signal up his anus and tickled his prostate ever so slightly. In his head, Geoff immediately reevaluated his previous thoughts. These men weren’t obsessive, they were just clean-cut and well-maintained. And their names weren’t extensive and money-grubbing, they were traditional, conservative, and sumptuous. These corrections brought a cordial smile to Geoff’s face. Only now noticing he had stopped walking, Geoff jogged to catch back up to Pierson, causing his slightly-larger buttocks to gingerly bob.

As they walked out onto the course, golf bags strapped across their backs, Geoff could see a tall figure in the distance seeming to greet them with a small wave. Pierson returned the gesture amiably.

“Who’s that?”

“Prescott Neilson Powers IV. I invited him to play with us. Prescott is the Kappa Sigma rush chair. ”

“You invited the rush chair?”

“Prescott, yes. He’s been a close friend since I attended preparatory school, you should know that, Geoff.”

Geoff did not know this, as Pierson hadn’t existed less than a semester ago.

“I thought you would get on quite well. Besides, he’s on good terms with many important people. If you want to join the fraternity brotherhood, no one is a better connection.”

Prescott was in stretchy plum-colored golf trousers, a ballcap with the KE logo sitting proudly on the front, and a smoky-gray polo exactly like the ones they were wearing. Geoff had a bit of a shock realizing how much Prescott looked like Pierson. His body filled out the polo tremendously with broad shoulders, baseball-like biceps, and a thick but strong core. He also had that overly-wide posterior that led into legs and calves formed by deadlifts and deep squats. His hair–which was sheared down into a practically flat bit of black hair, shiny and parted–was the only noticeable difference between the two, but otherwise Geoff might have mistaken the two for brothers or cousins.

“Greetings!” Prescott shook Pierson’s hand and pulled him in for a pat on the back. For his part, Pierson tensed up a bit but did not resist.

“Prescott Neilson Powers IV, this is Geoffrey Elliot. We had few classes together last year, and now he is interested in rushing.” Before Geoff could correct the error of his name, Prescott grabbed him into a similar handshake-to-hug.

“Pleasure to meet you, Geoffrey,” Prescott said calmly. “Well, let’s play.”

“Are we taking the cart?” Geoff asked, pointing to a line of white, polished golf carts. He really didn’t want to walk around the entire course. He hadn’t exerted that amount of physical energy since high school gym.

“Of course not!” Prescott and Pierson chortled before Prescott continued. “I’d figure us three needed to work less on our glutes and more cardio!” Prescott then reached out and gave both Pierson and Geoff hard butt slaps. Geoff wanted to object, but a momentarily jarring jolt from his briefs once again silenced him.

“We all know this will not be enough to alleviate that problem,” Pierson quipped as they made their way to the first hole. Geoffrey completely forgot what he was thinking about and followed with a polite smile, his shorts now tighter against his inflated rump.

Prescott was extremely friendly and a little physical. Upon learning that Geoffrey had never golfed, Prescott took it upon himself to teach him everything he could, resulting in him saddling up behind him to correct stance and form, but also jokingly pressing his crotch into Geoffrey’s butt and thrusting. The boys all laughed at the horseplay, with Geoffrey nervously trying to hide his boner. If he wanted to fit in around these traditional, conservative men, he’d have to be a lot more careful. Luckily, his member had softened before anyone noticed, returning to its previous 4-inches soft.

Geoffrey had a hard time hating Prescott and the Kappa Sigma brothers. Taking away all the pomp of politics and social structure, Prescott seemed to be an incredibly friendly alpha; the kind of guy who would be quarterback, homecoming king, and class president (all things Geoffrey learned Prescott was). Geoffrey began to recognize that all the Kappa Sigma, Carmichael, and Hemplebaum men had so many things in common. There were so many things about them that Geoffrey really liked. They were gorgeously male and embodied masculine sophistication. They were groomed and cleaned, polite and cheerful. They were such ideal men, what Pierson had called “perfectly preppy”.

“My girlfriend will literally do anything I ask, that’s how dedicated she is to me!” Prescott bragged in a slow but still gloating voice.

“She was always into you,” Pierson added.

“Yes, sir. Her dad’s super rich, one of the department managers at the Carmichael Corporation. He’s inundated with old money. But what about you?” Prescott got a mischievous glint as his eyes located Pierson’s crotch. “Are you getting those fellows ready? It is almost breeding season.”

“What does that mean?” Geoffrey inquired.

“Pierson Buckley Folsom VI here is getting married.”

“Congratulations!” Geoffrey replied enthusiastically, forgetting that Pierson hadn’t had a partner less than a month ago.

“Thank you. We’re finishing some final details; her mother is very specific. Sometimes, she acts as though I’m unworthy.”

“She cannot do better,” Prescott assured.

“She is a perfectly suitable spouse. I am very pleased with the situation,” Pierson affirmed before setting up his shot and launching the ball.  He let out a whistle of appreciation as it landed in the green just a few feet away from the hole.

“Good shot,” Prescott and Geoffrey said simultaneously. Geoffrey hadn’t noticed his voice was beginning to imitate the other two’s, as it was now a little deeper and even-handed.

“Geoffrey, I know it’s late notice, but I hope you can at least attend the wedding. The club has strict guest limits and I’m running out of passes for nonmembers for the bachelor party.”

“Thank you, Pierson. I’m sure I can make it.”

Geoffrey didn’t want to attend for investigative purposes however, he just wanted to support his close friend Pierson.

“And if you join the fraternity and get your membership before, you can enjoy all the heterosexual fun.” Prescott winked at Geoffrey and snagged a nipple that was now stiffly pressed out from the polo. Geoffrey had somehow not felt the weight of his upper body before as he walked, as his chest now stuck out and increased his height by a few inches. Geoffrey should’ve cared more about his enlarged torso, but for some reason walking around with pecs straining a polo felt incredible, like a huge dose of testosterone had been injected into him.

After a few more rounds, the trio decided to take an intermission and head back to the club. The main ballroom at the Rolling Acres was a lively place stocked with booze and many other pompous and colossal-sized men. Before Geoffrey could figure out what was going on, Pierson and Prescott were already removing the caps from a collection of glass bottles and pouring multiple glasses full of amber liquid.

“Come on, sit,” Prescott instructed, slapping Geoffrey’s bottom before taking a seat. Originally, Geoffrey had intended on asking some analytical questions and refusing the drinks, but after a quick agonizing wince he discovered he didn’t want to upset his new friends, or the financial connections they represented. Taking a big swig of the liquid, he sat down in the chair, his increasingly wide and plump behind consuming nearly ¾ths of the extra wide seat.

“You’re getting pretty good at the trap shot, Pierson Buckley Folsom VI, ” Prescott toasted Pierson.

“You’re still better, Prescott Neilson Powers IV,” Pierson was already refilling his drink happily. The trio continued chatting until Pierson eventually excused himself to the toilet, leaving Geoffrey alone with a man he thought would have been detestable. But this afternoon was fun. He got a small knot in his stomach as Prescott turned to him with a viperous grin.

“Geoff? Geoff Elliot?” Prescott suddenly said, dropping his voice low. Geoffrey was confused for a moment, as he hadn’t thought of himself as Geoff in a while. It was almost shocking, but then he cautiously nodded yes.

“Please, call me Geoffrey, Prescott.”

“Oh, I will, Geoffrey,” he emphasized the name. “You look good, and I have to admit I was wrong about you, Geoffrey. When Pierson had said he had invited you, I did not think you would make it. But here you are: willing and able, and looking much better with the muscles might I add. These clothes have done wonders for you.”

“Thank you, Prescott. I am very happy spending time with the Kappa Sigma men and the alumni.” Prescott nodded and smiled as the robotic words left Geoffrey’s mouth. Geoffrey had been content with his answer, but he hadn’t processed the real meaning behind Prescott’s comment. Absentmindedly scratching his calf, he should’ve been surprised by the amount of fur that caught in his grip. It also should have shocked him how firm his muscles felt; the thick, robust quads and strong, sculpted forelegs now filled his salmon shorts appropriately. They were also helped by his waist, which had expanded out both in the pelvic and gluteal regions.

“I like having my fellow fraternity brothers around. It is truly a real lifetime bond, care to agree?” Geoffrey nodded as Prescott took another deep swig. “Something that really defines a man: who he is and who he’s going to be.” 

Prescott then seemed to stare at Geoffrey curiously. For his part, Geoffrey had no idea what to say, and so stayed silent. “If I’d known this is who you were going to be, I’d have made sure you were my brother a long time ago. Of course, I knew Geoff, but not Geoffrey. Not big, strapping Geoffrey.”

“Yes,” Geoffrey stirred his glass and sat there.

“And I still have yet to meet whom you will become. You still have a ways to go until you have finished.”

“Finished?”

“The rush event, of course. You did not think it was over, did you? It is only a quarter past one you jester!” Prescott then grabbed Geoffrey’s head and gave him a playful noogie. The respectable man’s knuckles drove apart Geoffrey’s hair, causing the slightly-greasy afro to spill out a little more.

“Your hair has been a little off today,” Prescott noted. “Did you use enough pomade this morning?”

“Yes,” Geoffrey confirmed. “I believe I did.” He fixed his hair precariously, making sure all the edges were still held together like a helmet. Geoffrey liked his textured ivy league cut chipper yet sharp, just like the fine fellows of Kappa Sigma Alpha.

“Now, Geoffrey, what do you think Geoffrey is like in college?”

“I’m Geoffrey.”

“Correct, but these past few semesters you have not been. I just wonder what you wish you had done?”

“I wish I’d attended more sports games. I love football, and enjoy playing tennis and golf.” The answers had been installed in his head without him knowing.

“Splendid!”

“I’d want to have a group of men to watch sports with,” Geoffrey added.

“Indeed, every game we have an event at the house.” 

Geoffrey stared at him with glassy eyes. He was confused. It seemed like Prescott wanted him to say something, but he could only shrug.

“Would have been nice.”

“I do hope you apply for the fraternity. The brotherhood would be a good fit for you.”

“I’ve really enjoyed myself so far,” Geoffrey admitted. “And the prospect of living in the manor is tantalizing.”

“Where are you living nowadays?”

“I have a dorm in Walker. It’s a heap, but I live alone.”

“Have you thought about living with other men? Such ideal, perfectly preppy men?”

“What?! No, I haven’t, I mean..” Geoffrey sputtered a little, not considering that factor in his infiltration plan. It seemed like a dream, to be surrounded by so many gaudy, haughty, and sexy men. After a momentary painful shudder, Geoffrey realized he would love to be surrounded by so many prosperous, presumptuous, and handsome brothers. Of course, his definition of handsome was a man who was traditional, well-heeled, and physically attractive to women. Geoffrey believed that men ought to align themselves to the only orientation, one where his 5-inch soft dick didn’t get aroused to the thought of other gentlemen.

“I’m not sure it’s right for me,” Geoffrey announced truthfully, authorizing a smirk from Prescott.

“It’s right for Geoffrey. For football-playing, fraternity brother, corporate shark Geoffrey.” Prescott smiled and got up from the table, ushering Geoffrey to follow him.

“If you become a brother, either the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum will pay off your student debt as long as you work a year-long internship with them after you graduate. I can set you up.”

“Really?”

“I always support my Kappa Sigma Alpha brothers.” His impish grin was the only signal Geoffrey had before another blow to his bottom. After a little excruciating twitch, Geoffrey returned to reality, his voluminous buttocks still vibrating as they had now accumulated a soft layer of fat that made him even wider.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond!”  Prescott chanted and stared at Geoffrey. Geoffrey hesitated, but his mind wanted it so bad. He wanted Prescott to like him, to be his brother. Geoffrey wanted to be one of the classy, dashing brothers.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond.”  Prescott smiled as Geoffrey repeated the stanza back to him.

Pierson then showed up a moment later from behind them.

“What did I miss?”

“Just the rushing of our newest member here!”

“Newest member?” Pierson replied excitedly. “You are going to become a brother, Geoffrey?”

“I must!” Geoffrey replied eagerly. He wanted to become one of these perfectly preppy brothers, which kind of went against his reason for coming here in the first place. But, why was he here again? Was it not to be rushed? For some reason, Geoffrey felt like he was forgetting something, but it didn’t bother him enough to dwell on it. Any inappropriate memory of infiltration or distaste had been sapped from his increasingly cordial mind.

“That makes me so elated!” Pierson exclaimed. “Let us go find my uncle then, that way we can have him officiate the necessary forms.”

“If I can have a moment,” Geoffrey paused the celebration. “I would like to use the restroom.”

“Well…” Pierson hesitated.

“Of course!” Prescott gave a reassuring glance to Pierson, although Geoffrey didn’t know why. “Around the corner over yonder and then westbound. We will go retrieve Mr. Johnson while you alleviate.”

“My gratitude.” Not only had Geoffrey’s tone adopted the same deep, flat, and robotic tone, but his vocabulary slowly became much more sophisticated. As he strolled over to the restroom, Geoffrey now felt the weight of his body as he walked. He hadn’t noticed before, but he had settled out around 6’3 thanks to his extended limbs. His newly broadened shoulders filled out his dark periwinkle polo nicely. They made him feel like he took up the entire doorway as he entered the lavatory, and his big, wide stride made his butt and crotch kind of wiggle as he walked. He could feel the fabric of his salmon shorts tighten around his balls and release, then tighten on the other side. It was mildly arousing.

After taking a hearty leak, Geoffrey pulled his briefs back up above his belly button. It was deceptively erotic, something overly-personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in. And that’s what he wanted after all, to fit in. Why be unique and different when one could be conventional, classical, and consistent? That’s why he had come here in the first place, because he wanted to be like these men. Geoffrey wanted to be a Kappa Sigma, and after that work at either the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum.

Washing his hands in the sink, Geoffrey looked up and was very pleased to see the extremely handsome young man in front of him. He filled out his clothes almost to the point of bursting, from the Size 14 golf shoes to the Philadelphia blue polo. As he admired his form in the mirror, Geoffrey couldn’t help but brush the smooth-shaved line of his prominent jaw. He really could swear that his face had been almost heart-shaped, but now there was a distinctly hexagonal shape to the thing. Geoffrey was practically a hypermasculine parody: low brow, big nose, and wide jaw with a gigantic cleft chin: just like all the other men here.

Once he had finished appreciating his form, he exited the restroom and found Pierson, Prescott, and Mr. Johnson all chatting merrily. When they noticed his entrance, they immediately turned to allow him into the conversation.

“What can I do for you, Geoffrey?” Mr. Johnson asked. Geoffrey tried to find a concise answer for that question, but found that impossible.

“I want to become a Kappa Sigma and work with business and finance after graduation. I want every piece of advice you can give me.”

“Why is that?” Mr. Johnson was suppressing a smug smile though Geoffrey didn’t notice.

“I want to be just like you. And Pierson Buckley Folsom VI. And Prescott Neilson Powers IV. And all the men here at Rolling Acres.”

“Enjoy the event?”

“Immensely. I belong here with these kinds of men. I want to move into the Kappa Sigma Alpha house, not live in some pathetic university building.” He cast a disgusted look before continuing.  “I want to become an alumni and work under the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum.”

Mr. Johnson smiled. “So, Geoffrey, are you willing to fully commit yourself to the Kappa Sigmas?”

“I am, sir,” he replied in a soldier-like manner.

“Excellent. Well, I can proudly say you are approaching the physical standards. Let me address one concern.” Mr. Johnson carefully moved his massive arm behind Geoffrey and patted his buttocks gently. Geoffrey didn’t react as a gentle sting pulsated his prostate and a charming smile adorned his face. Mr. Johnson’s hand moved away to reveal an enormous rump identical to the others’, one thick with muscles underneath but concealed underneath a spongy layer of fat. With the salmon Bermuda shorts now tight against his behind, the crotch of his shorts were pulled tight into a prominent moose knuckle, also showcasing his 7-inch soft dick.

“Yes, that is more appropriate.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, there is a rather large change that I believe is a necessity for your progression into the Kappa Sigmas as well as your new social circle.”

“What is that sir?”

“Your name, it is just too common and destitute. You agree?” Geoffrey snapped back confirmation even though it made his head spin. “Personally, I have always been very fond of names associated with old money.”

“You want me to change my last name?” Geoffrey asked, slightly confused.

“Not exactly. Your entire name will have to be reformed.”

“My entire name?”

“Well, I thought you wanted to succeed.”

“Yes sir.”

“So you want to change your name. What do you think would work?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“So you want my help, is that what you are saying?” The words were coming so fast and Mr. Johnson’s eyes were so enticing that Geoffrey nodded.

“Yes sir, please tell me what my name should be.”

Mr. Johnson crossed his arms over his shelf of pecs, clearly relishing in the moment even though Geoffrey had no idea why.

“This is my favorite part.” Geoffrey didn’t say anything, as his superior clearly didn’t want him to.  And he’d just asked for help so there was no need to say anything. “It’s a great moment, when you realize you want to be whatever I want you to be.” 

Mr. Johnson ceremoniously pulled a form out of his suit pocket and presented it to Geoffrey. “This is your fraternity contract. You don’t need to bother with the details. Just sign your name.“

In very literal terms, Geoffrey would be singing away his life. The fraternity, the proud men of Kappa Sigma, and all of the alumni who worked at the Carmichael Corporation and Hemplebaum were now permanently immune from any legal repercussions. Of course, there never would be, as they had plenty of experience in this sort of thing.

Geoffrey was about to sign, but he noticed a different name was listed on the contract.

“It is supposed to be made out by Godfrey Larimer Elverton Jr.?”

“A name I believe will fit you suitably.” Mr. Johnson offered a pen to Geoffrey and gave a conceited smirk. “Just sign.”

The order immediately processed through Geoffrey’s brain, bringing a clubby smile to his face as he wrote out his new signature. Once he had finished, Mr. Johnson took the contract back and made his way to the ballroom stage. He signaled for Geoffrey to follow him.

“Hello?” Mr. Johnson tested a mic, his lifeless bass resonant across the room. “I would like to request every man’s attention please.”

Geoffrey watched on as all the men in the room turned to look their way. So many masculine men dressed to the tens in lavish suits and colorful polos. They were all so refined, so perfectly preppy.

“I would like to announce our first success of the annual Kappa Sigma Alpha rush event: the newest man of Kappa Sigma, Godfrey Larimer Elverton Jr.!”

The crowded room burst into a controlled round of applause. Godfrey felt giddy, proud to become a part of this fine organization. After the room had calmed down, Mr. Johnson and Godfrey rejoined Pierson and Prescott. They continued a fascinating discussion about budgetary and monetary issues, as a recent Hemplebaum acquisition of an old theatre downtown had created quite a profit. Godfrey felt right as home, as if he had always meant to be a Kappa Sigma. He instantly embraced his new role in life and quickly was accepted as a full brother by the other men.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. After Godfrey, there were eight other boys who were rushed into the Kappa Sigmas. Godfrey didn’t realize that at the beginning of the day, these boys had all been exactly like him: crude, coarse, and shoddy. In fact, Godfrey didn’t realize that he had been like that at all. His memories had slowly shifted, causing him to remember a wealthier upbringing, one where he had pampered and shaped to become a Kappa Sigma man over the last 21 years.

“To be frank,” Pierson started as they made their way back out to the first hole. “I did not foresee you transitioning so fast, let alone becoming the first pledge of the day.”

“You should recognize that I have been training for this my entire life,” Godfrey replied sternly.

“Oh, I do,” Pierson conceded. “But I will need some testament to that claim. Four strokes is par.”

Godfrey turned to Pierson and gave a broad, bland smile.

“Pierson Buckley Folsom VI,” he declared with a club in his hand. “I’ll only need one.”

[kobold-that-bites-people]

you know, there's a certain alienation to being transfem, that really doesn't feel too dissimilar to that of having been severely depressed growing up. so much of what society would expect me to learn growing up is simply lost, either due to having not having found the terms to call myself trans yet, or from dysphoria interfering with function.

there's the obvious things lost to a childhood being treated as a boy. there's having to teach yourself how to take care of your hair, because as a guy the only advice you were given was "just brush it" and "guys never take care of it anyway" and "just cut it off already". there's needing to teach yourself how to do makeup, despite having neither family to teach you nor social spaces where it's accepted to just not be good at makeup yet. there's needing to completely learn from scratch how to dress yourself in a way that is at all appealing, when you spent your entire youth avoiding mirrors and desperately avoiding clothes shopping where you'd be pushed into ever more masculine garb. there's the countless relationships severed from coming out, both from people who weren't cool about it and from people who were just in the same spaces as people that gave you trouble.

but there's also the more subtle things. having to relearn how to like yourself at all, to learn how to like your body at all. having to learn to take care of yourself. when you've spent your entire life desperately hating every part of you, that has ongoing effects, even after you find out why. the idea of getting my hair cut still terrifies me, even when it's wholly on my own terms, because for my whole youth i was constantly threatened with it being shaved off. the idea of other people in the cramped room i can call my own still frightens me, because i spent my youth with my family threatening to come in and shave off my hair while i slept, and what if they found the few tiny things that gave me the smallest modicum of relief from the constant dysphoria? (in my case i had some women's clothing magazines i'd stolen from the mail, i used to spend so long fantasizing about what it must be like to fit into such clothes)

and even ignoring emotional effects, there's still the physical signs. almost all of which wouldn't be there had the option of being trans been clear when i was younger. even ignoring the small signs of having been forced onto testosterone for so many years, the body hair and the narrow hips and the beard shadow. i still have countless scars from grappling with living in that constant self-hatred. the marks across my arms and legs where the body hair grew in thickest, across my chest that felt so painfully wrong to me.

all these things combine to leave me constantly feeling like i'm playing catchup. i've been out as trans for about three and a half years now, and yet the role i'm trying to fill socially expects me to have been functioning as a girl for 5-6 times that. i'm here still getting caught off guard by period cramps every month and trying to wrap my head around the basics of makeup, meanwhile to function in open society i'm expected to either present as a guy (you might as well ask me to stab myself) or present as a woman, when i've barely even been a girl for a couple years.

and that's all ignoring the expense. so much of this can be simplified if only you have the money for it. it's so much easier to find clothes you can pass in when you aren't limited to thrift stores (where of course nothing fits because you're a full six inches taller than the average girl) it's so much easier to learn makeup when you can afford to buy any in the first place. it's so much easier to work on your voice, when you can afford to work with an actual voice therapist instead of just relying on tutorials online. it's so much easier to deal with beard shadow, when you can afford electrolysis to deal with it entirely instead of constantly struggling to hide it.

and all these things compound. it's hard to present as a confident functional "woman", when you're constantly second guessing how one thing or another could get you clocked as trans. and all of that is just the purely trans matters. if you've got other things complicating matters, they feed into each other.

i'm not really sure where i'm going with this, i just wanted to get it off my chest. i guess conclusion is... throw some money at a broke transfem, gods know we're working with a stacked deck. you can hit my venmo at @koboldthatbitesyou, but i'm sure there's even more broke transfems elsewhere. i at least have mostly stable housing and food atm, even if no income.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #261

Today, J and I woke up at around 5:15 in the morning; I was gonna drive him over to Great Barrington. So we got ready, and we got in the car, and I went to get gas…!

…only to have the airplane lesson guy text J to tell him that it's super foggy, and therefore better to do the lesson later in the day; his next availability was 5pm. Ahahaha~!

Well, that's all right. I was pretty groggy anyhow; wanna guess at how stellar I was at getting to bed at 9:15pm like I said I was gonna (spoiler alert: I was NOT at ALL stellar at it)? So, with suddenly a ton of free time on my hands, I groggily played some Dead Cells. I didn't get very far, because I was groggy. My reflexes were dull and I was making poor choices in the heat of various moments, and… yeah. It was still pretty fun, though! Can't complain!

Once it stopped being stupid o'clock in the morning, I got some dishes done, fed the cats, and then, I decided to make hotdog macaroni and cheese!

I got these natural casing mini-hotdogs and I chopped them up, and I chopped up an onion really finely with my handy-dandy veggie chopper, and I threw in the leftover Frito cheese that really needed to get used up, and then I filled a bowl! I put in the macaroni and cheese, mixed the hotdogs in, drizzled ketchup and mustard over it, and then put some of the finely-chopped onions on top!! It was DELECTABLE!!!

…Want some…?

…I know it isn't fancy. But it tastes really good. It makes my belly happy. And a happy belly is the foundation for literally everything else.

I took a short nap after eating the macaroni and cheese, because even after several hours of waiting for it to not be stupid o'clock in the morning, I was still groggy. The early autumn-ish air smells amazing, but it has a chill to it, so I put on my giant, floofy wearable blanket, pulled up its hood to keep the light from my eyes, curled up on the couch, and caught some Z's. At some point, Hunter decided that I am a pillow and napped along with me, like so:

...For whatever reason, I guess he decided that the place for his nose was the side of my head, hahaha!

…Hey, Sephiroth? Have you ever put on a wearable blanket? If you haven't, you wanna try out mine sometime? They're super cozy and soft, and I think you'd like it a lot!! And I got the biggest size there is, so it swims on me, haha! So maybe it'd fit you properly, even though you're very tall. According to your in-game model (as opened in Blender), you're about 78 and a third of an inch tall, including your boots. So that's like… what? Maybe 77-ish inches tall, barefoot? Hmmm… I think my wearable blanket should fit you! Because you're only like 4 inches taller than M, in that case, and the wearable blanket fits him just fine!

…Heck, we can even use basic math to get your height; Cloud is some 68 inches tall (I'm at about the same height as him!), and so if we get a smaller picture of you two standing side-by-side, and measure out Cloud's height in the picture with a ruler, and record that number (we'll call it x), and then measure your height in the picture with the ruler and record that number (we'll call it y), then we just do the basic formula for proportions - 68 over x is equal to some number over y. We can get "some number", which will be your height to scale, by multiplying 68 inches by y, and then dividing the result by x. Easy peasy!

Anyway, 6 feet and 5 inches barefoot is pretty tall, but it's not really that unusual, at least in my part of the world; one of the people at my job is about the same height as you, and he seems really nice; he's the one who went in the back and got me my official work shirts when they finally got delivered, and when I smiled at him in gratitude, the smile he returned to me was just as radiant - it was very good! Then there's Julian Devorak of The Arcana, and he's 6 feet and 4 inches - only about an inch shorter than you. Mewtwo is 6 feet and 7 inches. A friend of mine from Australia is 6 feet and 3 inches. There are lots of people, both in story worlds and in my world that are about your height. Being tall really isn't all that weird; the world takes all kinds of shapes and sizes, and it's not nice to judge people on the basis of their outward appearance. You can't look at someone and just up and decide on the spot that they must be scary as a person just because your brain is scared of the vision coming in from your eyeballs - it ain't right. It ain't fair. It's dehumanizing, and it does a terrible disservice to the person you're looking at.

We have a phrase in my country that goes like, "you can't judge a book by its cover", and it means that you can't know who a person is, how they think, feel, or behave, or what they're capable of doing just by looking at their outward appearance. This phrase is something I try to live by. And it's something I know you live by, too; I remember when you scolded Zack for saying that Tifa can't be the guide just because she was a girl. I remember when you said, as a boy, that you cannot judge the elderly or the young as being unfit for combat based solely on their appearance. Your refusal to engage in sexism and ageism is pretty freaking refreshing; thank you for being yourself.

Anyway, I know a lot of people in my world like to say, "zOMG, Sephiroth is such a great big huge tall guy - gasp! - so intimidating!" but like… you're really not, because there's nothing inherently intimidating about someone being tall. So don't listen to those guys, okay? There's nothing weird or wrong or intimidating or any other negative adjective about your height and build. You're just you. And that's good enough. And if anyone gives you any problems about it, you just send 'em my way, okay? I'll fix their attitude real quick - don't you even worry about it, all right?

…Well anyway. J and I left for Great Barrington at around 3:00pm so we could make it there for the 5:00pm lesson for him. I tried strapping my GoPro to my head (I found it!) to take a video of the drive, but I mostly just got a video of the ceiling and of the sun shade flap thingies; I was frustrated. I'm going to try a different approach tomorrow, because I get to take J to Great Barrington again tomorrow, in any case. So we'll see what I can do.

At the end of J's lesson, one of the older pilots there offered us some of the pizza he got; he had extra. I was surprised by how tasty it was; it comes from a store called The Big Y, I guess. I had never heard of it before. But supposedly, it's the best corporation to work for in the whole state of Massachusetts. I wonder how true that is. Hm.

On the way back, J and I got a couple of pretty rad pictures of the moon; it was giant and red and low in the sky, and it looked amazing:

...I wish you could have been here to see it with us as it sank below the horizon. It was a pretty breathtaking sight.

Well. It's very late now; almost midnight. I gotta get to bed. Fortunately, I don't have a specific time I gotta wake. I hope that things with the GoPro will work out in the car tomorrow; I'd like to be able to show you the beautiful things along the route in motion...

I love you. And I'll write to you again soon. Please stay safe out there...

Your friend, Lumine

[starbuck09256]

I have a partner..

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Sorry xf fam, been a bit busy.

Fictober Day 9!

Set during Chimera Season 7

What if Mulder answered Ellen's question about his significant other in a different more truthful way? 

Ellen’s POV

I look at Agent Mulder, and he seems surprised that I ironed his shirt, and made a big breakfast for Phil. I feel Agent Mulder doesn’t have someone who takes care of him like I do with Phil. Once when I was younger I thought about being a therapist I had always been fascinated by people's relationships. Agent Mulder is handsome and good at his job. It makes me curious as he doesn’t wear a wedding band. I sit down across from him. 

I look over at him in curiosity “I get the feeling you are not used to having anyone take care of you?” I say trying to open the door without appearing too eager to know why he doesn’t wear a wedding ring. 

He gives a rough chuckle and states “Well that has a vaguely pathetic ring to it.” 

Not my intention of course. I clarify “No, I just mean I didn’t notice a wedding band.” I state. 

He replies “Oh,”

I get the feeling I can roll straight ahead. “Do you have a significant other?” I ask. 

He stops and takes a second, which is quite unusual. He smiles and bites his lip. “Um,” he takes a second and I see him trying to formulate the words as I tilt my head in interest.

 “I uh..” he chuckles. “I have a partner,” he says. 

I’m a bit taken aback as he didn’t strike me as gay, which is fine of course but now he is looking at me and his eyebrows crink. 

“Not umm.” he pauses again and sighs. “Her name is Dana.” he smiles at the end of his statement. 

I see him take a moment as if he is thinking of her. I lean in a bit, I want to know more about why she is a partner and not more. Given his smile and the way he said her name, it seems like she matters a great deal to him. “Can you tell me about her?” I ask. 

When Phil and I were younger I heard through a friend that he thought I was pretty, and that was the moment I decided to pursue him. How someone talks about their spouse has always taught me more about the person and less about the person they are speaking about. 

Mulder chuckles his eyes shining at me. “She’s umm.. Brillant, truly the smart person I’ve ever met,” and he takes a second. “She’s umm loyal, courageous, kind, she has a sort of deadpan dry sense of humor, a little sarcastic too.” he smiles again. “She’s a medical doctor but uh is pretty upset with me since I left her working in not the greatest conditions.” he chuckles again.

 He didn’t mention pretty which is odd. 

“Do you have a picture of her?” I make Phil carry a picture of us in his wallet. To show people that he has a family that loves him at home. 

Mulder reaches into his back pocket fiddling with his wallet. He hands me a photo of the two of them looking at some crime scene it looks like, she must also be in the FBI given that they are both wearing FBI jackets.

 “She’s pretty” I state. Wondering why he overlooked it.

 He looks at the picture and smiles. 

“She’s breathtaking,” he mutters. 

The way he says almost takes my breath away, he is looking at the picture as if just seeing it again for the first time, and his smile is stretched across his face. 

“She also looks very short,” I say moving the picture back to him. 

He laughs still looking at the photo of this Dana.

 “It’s weird because she seems to take up so much space in my mind sometimes, that I forget how tiny she is. She’s incredibly headstrong and stubborn it’s hard to remember she is only like 5’2.”

 “5 '2” I say, because she looks taller than that. 

He laughs again. “She wears the most ridiculous heels, they are like 3 inches, and she can run in them, which is nuts I know. I’m always amazed that she doesn’t break her neck sometimes.” his light chuckle is full of a deep fondness.

 I wonder if Phil has anywhere near the same level of fondness when talking about me. “

I bet you would catch her if she ever happened to trip though,” I smile at him. 

He looks up at me. 

“I would do anything for her, she is .. umm my partner. Certainly the better half of our partnership, that is. To some, she might not seem like she is the “significant other” in normal terms, but she is the most significant relationship I’ve ever had in my life.” His voice tapers off a bit at the end. 

I have the feeling the relationship he just described is much deeper than anything I’ve ever seen or experienced. Agent Mulder might not wear a ring or have someone who makes him breakfast, but he might have something much much better. He might have someone who has captured his soul. 

“Well,” I say standing up, if I didn’t feel like I was in control before I certainly don’t feel in control now. Something about knowing that there are relationships that don’t rely on what you are doing for the other person, cooking, cleaning, and showing you care by taking care of them in various ways. 

I wonder what a relationship would look like if it was just based on how you felt about the person. If you just appreciated them for existing. I think that Agent Mulder is much luckier than I have been, and it makes me question again why I forced Phil to stay married to me. I wonder if maybe I should let him go and try to find my own Agent Mulder. Maybe there is more than just pretending that everything is fine. Maybe I could have a life that didn’t make me feel the need to try and fit this perfect model that I always seem to fail at…

[imnotsurewhatimdoing89]

This is going to be a modern AU for hicctrid where they're gonna be highschoolers

Enemies to lover type thing

Hiccup was already late for school, As per usual though. Now, Hiccup was always late for school. His dad is at work by 5:00 A.M. Hiccup has to be up at 6 A.M

Hiccup is arriving at school and the bell already rang, but he still spots his only friend, Fishlegs.

"Hiccup! We're late, come on!" Fishlegs yells to Hiccup.

"I know, I know! Sorry, I slept threw my alarm!" As Hiccup says this back, he sees in the distance, Astrid who is always early, run into the school doors.

"Did you see that?" Fishlegs starts "Asrid Hofferson, late to class! Wow, that's new."

"Well, there's a first for everything!" Hiccup says in response.

As Hiccup and Fishlegs walk into the building, they hear a yelling from a distance.

"What do you want, Snotlout? I want literally nothing to do with you."

"Babe~ come on~ you know you want me, I mean, look at me! I'm everything anyone wants! And you're the hottest girl-"

That's all that Hiccup can hear before he hears a giant SLAP. Hiccup, looks around for Fishlegs, but Fishlegs had already gone to class.

Hiccup slowly sneaks closer. He knows he should get to class, but he's already passed every class with A+'s. Not like Stoick would care. All he cares about is leading as mayor.

Yes, Hiccup is the mayor's son. Why doesn't he have more friends? Well, as people knew him he was a massive disappointment.

Anyway, Hiccup looks over the corner and he sees Astrid's back, and snotlout holding his cheek

"Now you know not to harass anyone, Snotlout. You can't just make a girl- or boy say yes when they already said no!"

That girl really is scary, buuttttt she is pretty. The most pretty girl in school if Hiccup would say so. Astrid used to be friends with Hiccup. When they were in elementary school. But since Astrid got more and more popular, she stopped hanging out woth Hiccup for good. So Hiccup's only friends are Fishlegs and Toothless, his black cat.

He was so lost in thought he didn't even notice Astrid turning around and seeing him "what are you looking at, fishbone?" She says, in a way that just makes you want to bow down and just worship her.

"Uummm, I'm just gonna go now-" he starts to say, but Astrid was faster.

"Oh no you don't," she starts. She grabs his shirt and pulls him closer. "Why are you out here?"

Astrid is 2 inches taller than him. She has these icy blue eyes and blonde hair that make her look like royalty. She's better at almost everything. Exept school. She is still failing scince ever since her and Snotlout started dating. She has since broken up with him. But he's still trying.

Hiccup stares at her blankly. "I'm taking a shit on the floor. I'm out cause I'm late Astrid. I'm most likely getting a detention. And since there are cameras in this hallway, you are probably as well." Hivcup says, sarcastically. Hiccup, you little shit.

Astrid is now having sudden realizations. She let's go and looks back at where Snotlout is, and walks off.

But before she can leave Hiccups sight, the loud speakers say, "Astrid Hofferson, to the office please." Astrid turns around.

"God's freaking dammit!!" (Yes double !!)

This is part one! I realized I made this really long, soooo parts it is!

Part two

[loxare]

I was tagged by @redrobin-detective

1. Are you named after anyone? No one real, but I was named after a character from an 80s fantasy movie

2. When was the last time you cried? Like full on actual crying or "my eyes started tearing up but I shoved those emotions back inside their bottle and stopped"? Either way, don't remember. Relatively recently, moreso for the latter

3. Do you have kids? Not currently. I'd like to look into adopting when I'm more financially stable though

4. What sports do you play/have you played? I played soccer for one season when I was about 8. I was terrible at it because I hated running

5. Do you use sarcasm? I mean who doesn't

6. What's the first thing you notice about people? Probably their clothes

7. What's your eye color? Brown

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings usually. This is a weird dichotomy though

9. Any talents? Baking? I'm not sure I'm talented at it, I just enjoy it

10. Where were you born? Hospital

11. What are your hobbies? Embroidery, crochet, cooking, baking, gardening, knitting, sewing, reading, bookbinding. One of my favourite things about getting older is that I keep collecting new hobbies. I want to start doing wood carving, but good knives are expensive

12. Do you have any pets? Nope. I had a dog named Angus, but I wasn't home as often as he deserved due to work. I'd like another dog someday though

13. How tall are you? 5 foot 6 1/2 inches. The half makes me taller than my brother, which is important

14. Favorite subject in school? Which school? I'm assuming high school, which was science. In university, my favourite course was minerology

15. What is your dream job? I just want to stare at rocks all day.

I'm not tagging anyone because I don't think I regularly speak to fifteen entire people on this site. If anyone else wants to do this though, tag me back so I can read it~

[tirralirralirra]

15 Questions

Tagged by @hinaniao! Thank you, and apologies that I'm late to the party, haha.

1. Were you named after anyone?

Nope!

2. When was the last time you cried?

...therapy (two weeks ago) (crying is healthy no shame here) (here for healthy relationship with mental health and destigmatization of it!)

3. Do you use sarcasm?

So much. I actually try to be conscientious of not using it.

4. Do you have kids?

No

5. What’s your eye color?

So brown they look black unless they're in the sun.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Uh...height?

7. Any special talents?

I can project my voice at like, megaphone volume without aid. I only use it sparingly.

8. Where were you born?

South Korea!

9. What are your hobbies?

Writing, drawing, getting back into being a prolific read of books, always a prolific reader of manga, watching shows that have episodes shorter than 30 minutes (so, anime)

10. Have any pets?

YES I GOT A DOG he is beautiful and also why I have less time to do aforementioned hobbies but you know what. He's worth it. :)

11. How tall are you?

5'0" (half inch taller in the mornings ;) ) or 154cm

12. What sports do/have you played?

Nordic skiing competitively in high school (I was not great, but I was a captain!), Long jump in track briefly (for someone so short I could jump pretty far and elegantly, I guess), adult softball (just for fun), adult figure skating

13. Dream Job?

Writing and doing art!

But more realistically or shorter term? Something in the book or publishing industry!

14. Favorite subject in school?

Hard to choose, humble brag of being good at all of them. Excluding fun extra curriculars like art, probably math and English.

15. Scary movies or happy endings?

I can't do scary movies ㅠ_ㅠ I'm a huge chicken

Happy endings by default! But I like a movie that makes me think, even if it's not the "traditional" happy ending.

Tagging anyone because sorry I can't remember who has already done it, lol.

[bluntzzz]

1. What would you like to say to the FIRST person you kissed this year?

I say whatever I want to him every day lol, but for the sake of question, I love you!

2. What is the last reason you cried?

My mom is very mean!

3. Where is your cell phone?

To my immediate left.

Maybe not finishing college LOL, but if I did, I would not be here today.

5. Did you like NSYNC or Backstreet Boys?

Neither really. Now I like both!

6. Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera?

Britney.

8. Where did you sleep last night?

In my bed.

9. What time did you go to sleep last night?

Pfft midnight?

10. What woke you up today?

Kyle snoring :P

11. What is one thing you wish people didn’t do?

Lie.

12. Are you excited for the future?

Sure.

13. Your ex shows up randomly at your house, you say?

I would not answer the door, for anyone really.

14. Your boyfriend/girlfriend cheats on you with your best friend, you say?

Although unlikely, I don’t think I would say anything. Maybe a good fuck you to both of them lol.

15. Do you have any weird inside jokes?

Heaps.

16. Liquor or Beer?

Liquor.

18. When was the last time someone yelled at you?

Good question. Thankfully its been a while.

19. I am _________ .

Hungry and ready to go home!

21. Have you ever tried to break someone up?

I don’t think so.

22. When is the last time you talked to your best friend?

Hm, kyle is my partner and my best friend, we talked this morning. My non-partner best friend, we texted yesterday I think.

23. Have you done anything you regret this year so far?

Nope.

24. Where is your best friend?

Kyle is probably on his way to pick me up from work now. 😊

27. Who was the last person to make you laugh?

Kyle.

28. Anything annoying you right now?

Being in the office is innately annoying.

29. Is there any emotion you’re trying to avoid right now?

Yes. Im trying really hard not to be sad and depressed about the state of the relationship with my mom.

30. Who has your heart?

Kyle.

32. Have you done anything embarrassing lately?

Of course lol, but I don’t get embarrassed by it. Anything that could be embarrassing makes me laugh.

33. Do people make fun of your nationality?

I mean, I used to get made fun of for being really pale, which is derivative of my nationality, right?

34. Do you eat more than you should?

Sure lol.

35. Do you smoke?

Cannabis, yes.

36. Who’s the last person of the opposite sex to hug you?

Kyle.

37. Last time you shoplifted?

Lmao man, on purpose, a long time ago. About two months ago, I accidentally did not pay for some paper towels or something and no one noticed lol.

38. What will you name your future son?

No future son, no future kids! Kyle already has a son lol.

39. What will you name your future daughter?

NONE.

41. What is your favorite number?

8.

42. What gets you happy?

Kyle, my dog, my cats, lofi, video games, painting my nails.

43. Where were you at 11:45 pm Last Night?

Yes or on my way.

44. Is the person you like older or younger than you?

Younger, by 4 months.

45. Ever talked to someone that was high?

Lmao yes.

46. How tall is the person you like? Shorter or taller?

Taller, by like 2-3 inches.

47. Did you have a dream last night?

Yes. I don’t remember details but I know it was a turbulent dream about my family, ugh the worst!

48. Last comment you left someone?

Idk lol.

49. Do you have a Facebook?

Yes.

50. What do you think about the last person that you stole this from?

I do not know them.

4. What was the worst mistake of your life?

Maybe not finishing college LOL, but if I did, I would not be here today.

5. Did you like NSYNC or Backstreet Boys?

Neither really. Now I like both!

6. Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera?

Britney.

8. Where did you sleep last night?

In my bed.

9. What time did you go to sleep last night?

Pfft midnight?

10. What woke you up today?

Kyle snoring :P

11. What is one thing you wish people didn’t do?

Lie.

12. Are you excited for the future?

Sure.

13. Your ex shows up randomly at your house, you say?

I would not answer the door, for anyone really.

14. Your boyfriend/girlfriend cheats on you with your best friend, you say?

Although unlikely, I don’t think I would say anything. Maybe a good fuck you to both of them lol.

15. Do you have any weird inside jokes?

Heaps.

16. Liquor or Beer?

Liquor.

18. When was the last time someone yelled at you?

Good question. Thankfully its been a while.

19. I am _________ .

Hungry and ready to go home!

21. Have you ever tried to break someone up?

I don’t think so.

22. When is the last time you talked to your best friend?

Hm, kyle is my partner and my best friend, we talked this morning. My non-partner best friend, we texted yesterday I think.

23. Have you done anything you regret this year so far?

Nope.

24. Where is your best friend?

Kyle is probably on his way to pick me up from work now. 😊

27. Who was the last person to make you laugh?

Kyle.

28. Anything annoying you right now?

Being in the office is innately annoying.

29. Is there any emotion you’re trying to avoid right now?

Yes. Im trying really hard not to be sad and depressed about the state of the relationship with my mom.

30. Who has your heart?

Kyle.

32. Have you done anything embarrassing lately?

Of course lol, but I don’t get embarrassed by it. Anything that could be embarrassing makes me laugh.

33. Do people make fun of your nationality?

I mean, I used to get made fun of for being really pale, which is derivative of my nationality, right?

34. Do you eat more than you should?

Sure lol.

35. Do you smoke?

Cannabis, yes.

36. Who’s the last person of the opposite sex to hug you?

Kyle.

37. Last time you shoplifted?

Lmao man, on purpose, a long time ago. About two months ago, I accidentally did not pay for some paper towels or something and no one noticed lol.

38. What will you name your future son?

No future son, no future kids! Kyle already has a son lol.

39. What will you name your future daughter?

NONE.

41. What is your favorite number?

8.

42. What gets you happy?

Kyle, my dog, my cats, lofi, video games, painting my nails.

43. Where were you at 11:45 pm Last Night?

Yes or on my way.

44. Is the person you like older or younger than you?

Younger, by 4 months.

45. Ever talked to someone that was high?

Lmao yes.

46. How tall is the person you like? Shorter or taller?

Taller, by like 2-3 inches.

47. Did you have a dream last night?

Yes. I don’t remember details but I know it was a turbulent dream about my family, ugh the worst!

48. Last comment you left someone?

Idk lol.

49. Do you have a Facebook?

Yes.

50. What do you think about the last person that you stole this from?

I do not know them.

[memento-morri-writes]

Yes, hello, I am twin.

I agree with what a lot of Carmen said!! I am also a fraternal (that's the word for non-identical) twin.

**NOTE: Identical twins are always the same assigned gender at birth. That is a scientific fact. They can't be identical twins born different genders. However, they can still look a lot alike!! Identical vs fraternal is actually a scientific and medical difference, based on how the egg (or eggs) are fertalized.

Also, I am also the older twin! I'm 5 minutes older, hahah. (and 6+ inches taller) It does matter, but I have never done the "I'm older!" thing that I see siblings or twins do in media. It just feels nice being older. Plus, people ask all the time.

When people find out you're a twin, it's the exact same conversation every time. "Wow, you're a twin?" yep. "Identical or fraternal?" fraternal. "Do you look alike?" kind of. "Who's older?" me. "Wow, I had no idea!!"

We're the only children, so I literally have no idea what it's like to have older or younger siblings, lmao. But anyways, in my case, me and my sister look very different. People might be able to guess we're siblings, but never twins. She's about 6-8 inches shorter than me, has hair twice as long or more, and has a drastically different face shape. Really the only things we have in common appearance-wise are hair color, eye color, and skin tone.

Also, we have drastically different interests. Like, "were you really raised in the same house?" different. She's into sports (running and swimming) and is a massive try-hard when it comes to school. I love animals, fantasy, sci-fi, and other "geeky" things.

When it comes to school, having a twin is kind of a nightmare, in some ways. Especially with my twin. As mentioned, she's a massive try-hard and graduated 3rd in our class of almost 600 students. She spends every single second of her life either working out, studying or sleeping. Me, on the other hand, well... nope. I almost never study (I honestly don't know how, lmao), and tend to just rely on my memory. I hate homework and am a massive procrastinator.

Also, when I was younger, I got in a lot of trouble at school. (Yes, really.) I got in fights and talked back to teachers. (usually because the kids were bullying me and the teachers weren't doing shit but that's beside the point) So between that and her "ideal student" routine, I often felt like I was being compared to her, by my parents and teachers.

I think that's probably a pretty normal feeling for twins. Everyone expects twins to be similar, so they can feel forced to compete against each other or conform to each other for one reason or another. Not to say every twin feels that way, but it makes sense to me.

We also have a very weird relationship (it might be a normal sibling relationship, but idk as I don't have other siblings). We can be absolute assholes to each other, and we fight a lot. But also, my twin knows me and understands me better than my parents do. She gets me great christmas presents, and we have it schedules to FaceTime every week. She listens to me ramble about my special interests, and she's always been the most "normal" about my weirdnesses. (autism, adhd, etc.)

Touching more on what Carmen said about sharing things (teachers, friends, etc.), we really tried very hard not to share things. If someone was friends with both of us, they always must be better friends with one than the other. I honestly hated my sister's friends in elementary school, and had complaints about a good number of them even in high school. (I have valid reasons for both of those.)

But also, being twins means (obviously) that we're the same age. So we can relate to each other much more that way. We have the same stupid memories from school, we like the same nostalgia music, etc. Which is nice!! I don't know much about having older or younger siblings, but I can't imagine that that happens, since this relies on us experiencing the same things at the same time.

Also, I am also the older twin! I'm 5 minutes older, hahah. (and 6+ inches taller) It does matter, but I have never done the "I'm older!" thing that I see siblings or twins do in media. It just feels nice being older. Plus, people ask all the time.

When people find out you're a twin, it's the exact same conversation every time. "Wow, you're a twin?" yep. "Identical or fraternal?" fraternal. "Do you look alike?" kind of. "Who's older?" me. "Wow, I had no idea!!"

I also agree about the childhood grudges. There's a lot of things I will never forget about my sister doing to me, good or bad. There are lots of grudges. So many. I don't know what it's like for her side, but I definitely have them.

Sorry this got so long!! I talk a LOT.

Hey

Tell me some stuff about twins. I never do any real person research for my characters but I should really start.

oh wow okay that's a long answer so be mindful of that

also this is all my own experience so if you happen to be part of a pair of twins and wants to chime in, please do so.

Okay first thing first: there are two types of twins. Identical twins and non-identical twins.

I am a non-identical twin. Which means exactly what you can be thinking: my sister and I are nothing like each other physically. She has brown hair and eyes, I have somewhat blondish-brown hair and grey eyes. Our face structure is different, our features are different. Our body is different.

Most of the time people don't even guess we are twins at first! But we are.

Second thing I should probably say: I'm two minutes older than my twin (yes it matters) I'm the older one.

Your set of twins are going to be x minutes apart from the other and that's a number you take to your grave. That's a number you remind them everytime you are in an argument and you want to make a point.

My sister and I grew up in a neighborhood where there weren't any kids out age, so we've spent almost all our childhood together. This translates to use having almost the same exact memories of things, our own language (invented words to refer to something or someone and we talk backwards when we need to say anything with people in front of us), key words that we created when we were little and basically the same childhood!

If you went to my twin and said "the girl and the fence" i know what she's thinking about. And if you told me "Imagine by John Lennon" I can interpret you our own version of the song that we wrote when we were like eight or so.

This means that more often than not we speak at the same time and say the same (I guess you could say it is because we have similar braincell patterns if you want to get scientific, but telekinesis is a much nicer explanation)

Still of course we are not the same person! At all! We both have different hobbies, likes and dislikes and are our own person, even if we still relate to a lot of things. I like to refer to my sister's hobbies as "the same as mine, but in a different direction": we both like reading, but we read different genres; or we both like a sport but for different reasons.

Living with a twin us not living with your best friend. Not always. We fight a lot (as siblings do) over dumb stuff and we are not joined by the hip. Specially not literally since she is in Germany now so...

Maybe this is also just my case, but I've grown so used to people calling me by my sister's name that I answer to it automatically, so maybe that's a twin's thing as well.

In my course, we were four set of twins: two pairs of two boys, us and a pair of a boy and a girl. Of course everyone had different dynamics but I think it's safe to say that almost all of us share that proximity with our sibling the way separate siblings don't do (← can't know for sure cause I don't have a separate sibling just my twin and I)

Somehow, the fact that we shared course, sometimes teachers, a friend group and later on the same class, has made us build our self concept around each other. Being a twin is part of our identity and now that I'm in uni and I'm meeting new people it initially shocks me when they are surprised cause they just found out that I'm not a single kid. Cause I'm clearly half of a set, you know? Still of course I know it's not something visibly clear.

We have a lot (and I mean a lot) of inside jokes, of stories and memories. I think she knows me more than anyone could ever because I've spent all my life with her. There are some childhood grudges as well (like when she ripped the scratch page that smelt like chocolate from my Geronimo Stilton Fantasy Kingdom book)

Aside from that now that we are kilometers away, our day to day conversations usually are either calling the other while we are studying and just talking about whatever or sending us memes and tiktoks saying "that's u" (she just did that as I'm typing this)

If you happen to be part from a set of twins and want to add your own little things or share stories PLEASE feel free to reblog this!!!

Again this is just my humble interpretation of 20 years of being a twin and you might not agree with some stuff which is completely normal!

[wooahaes]

under the sun [woozi]

pairing: non-idol!woozi x gn!reader

prompt: darl+ing inspired fic.

word count: 9.3k~

warnings: food mention. jihoon being a little standoffish at first and cold to reader a few times. happy ending. also warning for song lyrics written in italics since music is a huge part of jihoon’s fic. also bare minimum proofreading rn, sorry!!

daisy’s notes: my man... i learned while writing this that he apparently is 5′5″ and not 5′4″ like i thought. when will the lies stop. man might be a half inch taller than me. im crying /j

summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world... and between you and one of them.

< day 3 || masterlist  || 

[also: i removed a few people from the taglist who hadn’t engaged with seokmin’s part. if you’d like to be added back (or added to the taglist in general), please send in an ask!]

Jihoon was someone who always took time to warm up to people. Everyone knew this (except for you, he thought, unless someone told you--he wouldn’t blame them if they did), Jihoon knew this, and he knew that there was likely little chance for him to budge easily on things like this. He was protective of the group, after all. Even when Chan came, a month before you did, Jihoon grew more used to him. He felt comfortable sharing his music (something Jihoon always held tight to his chest and only shared occasionally) with Chan, with Hansol who seemed to understand him on a different level than the others. Everyone respected his boundaries, and that did include you. He remembered the way you wanted to back out when he was singing to Seungkwan. Even though both he and Hansol were younger, he understood why they both (lightly) scolded him for putting things away when you were around. He knew that he was likely hurting you by being so... exclusive toward you. If he didn’t try to be kinder to you, then you’d grow to hate him. And then you’d leave, wouldn’t you? If you thought he (and anyone else) hated you?

Yet all of those thoughts went straight out the window when he saw you pick up one of his notebooks to move it aside--only panicking when you started to open it.

“Don’t touch that!” His voice was too sharp. The others had looked up--Jun, Soonyoung, and Wonwoo were all on cleaning duty alongside the two of you--to watch for a moment as you froze. Jihoon snatched the book from your grasp, taking a step back.

Jihoon could see the disappointment on Soonyoung’s face, and the concern on Jun’s. Unlike him and Wonwoo, neither of them were great at masking their emotions. And Jihoon realized that, protective as he is over his music, there was no clear way to say it kindly to you.

“I don’t trust you enough yet,” he said, holding his notebook closer to his chest. The words clearly stung, and he could see that. “My music’s personal to me.”

Yet despite the wavering light in your eyes and the way he swore he saw your lip tremble for a second, you forced a smile. “I’m sorry,” you took the tiniest step back. “I just wanted to make sure it was yours. I understand, though.”

Most likely, you were telling the truth. His music books were spiral-bound notebooks that were unlabeled. He would label them later just to be sure--but everyone else knew that these were his because he always kept them in that one spot. Jihoon heard Wonwoo call out your name, asking for you to come help him clean off one of the shelves. You hesitated for a moment before leaving Jihoon to stand there, notebook in his hands, and the broken pieces of a potential relationship shattered around him. 

You were hurt. Jihoon, as dramatic as he felt it was, felt like he’d never get on good terms with you--not fully. After the first time, there was that glimmer of hope because you had stayed. Mingyu said that you thought his voice was beautiful (and adding on a teasing “they think you’re beautiful, too,” that felt like a complete lie), that you appreciated his music.

Jihoon trusted you. Just... not enough. You claimed to understand, but did you? Should he really be so secretive when it’s just the fourteen of you against the world now? While Jihoon still had his boundaries, it felt like many of them had fallen a little, just enough to trust those he lived with. He would always trust some more than others (Seungcheol and Soonyoung, for one, because he respected their work ethic being on the same level as his own--it truly felt like they were leaders in a sense at times), but... he trusted people. He trusted you. He doubted you felt the same way.

Yet... At dinner that night, he watched you steal a glance at him. Most nights, Jun slid his own serving of white rice to Jihoon--knowing that he loved it. Yet, for some reason, he didn’t. It was rare for you to sit next to him, but Soonyoung wanted you there. He’d been making you laugh with some story Jihoon wasn’t really paying attention to (he was sure he heard it before), and when he turned away to respond to something Seokmin had said, you pushed your bowl over to Jihoon.

“You can have it,” you said in a quiet voice, just to keep it between the two of you. A week after you came, and you... already noticed little things like Jihoon’s love of white rice.

He gave you a cautious look. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Chan and I were snacking earlier. I’m not that hungry.” You pushed it a little closer to him. “I mean it. You can have it if you want it, Jihoon.”

He thanked you, voice gentler than you’d ever heard it (aside from the time he sang, you noticed--sometimes his singing voice was so pretty and soft...) as he accepted the bowl.

(Neither of you would notice the way Seungcheol had been watching, because Seungcheol always kept an eye on you. You were new, and Soonyoung had offhandedly mentioned Jihoon snapping at you. He had reason to worry about you feeling less comfortable.)

That night, Jihoon curled up back to back with Mingyu. You were warm and snug in Soonyoung’s arms, Chan curled up close on your other side--and Jihoon was fully aware of the sound of your breathing until he finally drifted off, like his mind wouldn’t let go of you as its topic of the day. He dreamed that night of a studio that felt like a second home, and he almost thought it cozier than the one had made with the others.

Almost.

The next three days were left with nothing. Jihoon spent day after day unable to write, no words coming to him as easily as they should be. Music was like second nature to him, like something he knew, and yet... He sat there, staring at his notebook day after day with nothing but a building frustration and half-written lyrics in front of him. What changed? He’d been fine before. Yet three days ago, something happened and it made whatever creative juices inside of him dry up completely. The attempt to play his guitar, to get things out that way, end in frustrated groans because no notes sound right together anymore. Even the songs he’d tried writing before sounded wrong despite the fact that Jihoon knew they were right.

It was frustrating. Impossible, even, to live like this. It made him fidget more, more irritable, more likely to snap a little at people when they teased him a little too much. Every moment is met with his quiet apology before he went to sit by himself, to try and figure out what was wrong.

That wasn’t to say Jihoon only worked on his music. He did chores, yes, but he would join in on games and cooking and exploring with the others whenever the time came. He just always found time to play the guitar before dinner, just to have some moments alone.

“Maybe a change in scenery will help,” Soonyoung said as he watched his friend thumb through pages again, as if trying another song would work. “You always work in here.”

Maybe it would.

Jihoon let himself be led by the hand out of the church and down to the river. Soonyoung had called back to Seokmin that they’d go exploring for a bit, maybe see if they can find some sort of inspiration somewhere (Jihoon doubted it, but Seokmin seemed happy enough that he was getting out again rather than staying cooped up).

“Did something change?” Soonyoung said, hands shoved into his pants pockets. “Maybe you’re having a bad week. You should take a break and focus on other things.”

“I can’t.” If he stopped working on his music, he’d drift a little too far from reclaiming himself. His music made him feel like he was getting closer. To what, exactly, he couldn’t be sure, but he was getting closer to something.

Soonyoung let out a sigh. “We know it’s important to you, but you’re important to us.”

Jihoon thought of you. He couldn’t be important to you, after all: you hadn’t been there long. He couldn’t be someone important to you. You weren’t someone important to him yet, either.

“You should rest if you need to,” Soonyoung said.

“Would you?”

Soonyoung said nothing, lips pressed together. He instead told him a minute later that he would be there for him if he needed him: that everyone would be there for him. Seokmin said the same after dinner before Jihoon went to try one more time to work on something, to write one lyric down. He turned down the offer to talk with a quiet thanks, saying he’d consider it if he needed it.

Then Seungcheol found him staring at his notebook, brows knit together in frustration, and Jihoon decided he felt safe.

“If I can’t find out who I am, I’m letting everyone else down.” He was careful not to grip the notebooks too tightly, but the paper buckled underneath his grip. “Everyone said the songs feel familiar, Cheol. Maybe this will help us remember.”

“No one’s going to be upset if you’re going through a creative block,” Seungcheol said. “We want you to be happy. If working on your music is stressing you out, maybe you should take a short break before you burn out.”

“I’m not going to burn out--” Jihoon almost snapped at him, only to take a deep breath. “I like working on this. It’s comforting.”

“When did it start?”

Jihoon stared down at the paper. When did it start, exact...? “A few days after Chan’s celebration,” he said. “I was able to write at first, it was just... harder. Then it just stopped.”

Seungcheol knew that you were lingering outside of the room, and he already felt an ache in his chest. Days after you arrived. He knew you’d made that connection, too, and he kept that held close to his chest.

“You’ve written a lot ever since you came here,” Seungcheol said instead. “You should rest soon.”

Jihoon promised he would, turning back to his work. Seungcheol sighed, leaving him alone, but stopping just a few steps away from the entryway. He spoke quietly enough, calling out your name.

He watched you step out from the entryway to the main room. “Cheol...”

“It isn’t your fault,” he told you outright. He made his way over, pulling you into his arms. “Okay? Don’t think for a minute that it is.”

He knew that it wouldn’t work. That you’d blame yourself even without his attempt to soothe you. Seungcheol pressed a kiss onto the top of your head instead, hoping that it’d remind you that you were loved.

“Just give him time,” Seungcheol said. “Okay? He’s just going through a creative block. It happens. Soonyoung struggles with choreography from time to time.”

You looked past Seungcheol, toward where Jihoon was likely still sitting inside and stewing in his frustration. “I know,” you said, and Seungcheol could practically see those gears turning.

“Let’s get ready for bed,” he said, turning you away. “Okay? Jihoon will be there soon. Let’s let him work.”

Yet he knew that you had already committed to it. If it was your fault, then you’d find new inspiration for Jihoon. Nothing could change your mind when you were set on helping him.

Jihoon went off by himself most days before dinner: you knew this as a fact. He wasn’t the only one with the tendency for alone time. Minghao would go off and meditate, Seungkwan took walks alone, Jeonghan hid away for an afternoon nap; even you liked a little peace for yourself. Living with thirteen people was stressful, after all. No one could blame anyone for finding a quiet place to sit and decompress before coming together again for dinner.

All of this to say, it took you a little time to find Jihoon. You found him curled up in one of the open spaces off of one corridor, walls painted in bright colors—everything entirely abstract. When you tried to find something in it, all you could see were vaguely sun-shaped blobs here and there. Jihoon sat with his back against the wall, staring intensely at his notebook. Some days you’d see him with the others, but you were a little thankful that he was alone. It made approaching him a little easier.

“Jihoon?”

He jolted at the sound of your voice, pencil dropping into his lap from where he’d been spinning it with his fingers. He waved you off the moment you went to apologize. “Mouse.” He paused, looking up at you. “Did Cheol need something?”

There was an unwelcome edge to his voice and it made you falter. You shook your head. “I was just looking for you.”

“Sorry,” he pulled his notebook closer to his lap. “I was trying to concentrate. So I hid out here.”

You frowned, toying with your sleeve nervously. “Did you write something?”

“No.”

The blunt tone nearly made you wince. He didn’t want you there, you were almost positive. “Oh.” You crouched down. “Maybe we could go for a walk together—”

“I’m fine.” He paused, staring at your face for a moment. “Thank you,” he tacked on a second later, as if it’d soften the blow.

Truthfully, it didn’t. You stood up. “Okay,” you said, taking a step back. “I get it. Sorry for bothering you, Jihoon.”

Then you turned, setting off to go find Chan. hHe’d cheer you up without question if you asked him to. You made your way into the main room, finding him sitting with Soonyoung.

You didn’t notice the way Seungcheol had watched you, already knowing what happened. He always thought you wore your emotions plain as day, masked only slightly by a smile that wouldn’t reach your eyes no matter how hard you tried. It was his job to keep things harmonious, and he frowned as he watched you approach Chan. You asked something about a walk, Chan gave you an apologetic look before admitting he was tired from cleaning with the others, and you waved him off before he could get up. You’d just take your walk alone instead.

Seungcheol debated going after you. He instead waited a moment, watching back at the hallway you emerged from. Sure enough, Jihoon came to the entrance, looking around. He stopped, looking over at where Chan was sitting, furrowing his brows.

He was looking for you in a crowded room of men waiting for dinner to get finished. Seungcheol glanced over to where Mingyu and Joshua were working.

“Jihoon?” Seungcheol called over his shoulder, turning to face him. “Can you go find Mouse?”

Jihoon looked off toward the way up to the church, uncertainty clear in his eyes. That was what Jihoon had meant to do, wasn’t it? Find you? You had looked upset, and Seungcheol could easily connect the dots considering he knew that you and Jihoon weren’t close. He knew that Jihoon snapped at you, too, for moving one of his music books (when he asked you about it, you said you were just making sure it was his--that you wouldn’t have looked further, and he believed you).

“They said they were going for a walk alone,” Seungcheol had entered the kitchen, looking for some way to help out. “You should check around the river. Chan said they like to walk by the river sometimes.”

Jihoon wasn’t the kind of person who would outwardly refuse such a simple request without good reason. He nodded, saying he’d be back in a few minutes as he made his way outside. Jihoon, however, wasn’t stupid either: Seungcheol knew. He had to know, didn’t he? Maybe you told him that Jihoon was making you feel unwelcome. Seungcheol would talk to him soon if you did, at least. Or maybe this was Seungcheol’s way of dealing with it: a subtle push for Jihoon to find you, to talk to you. A chance to apologize, too, if he wanted to take it.

Sure enough, you were sitting by the river, just watching the way the water ran past. The sunset painted your skin with its hues, and Jihoon felt something well up in his throat. Regret? You just looked so sad, so lost, so distant: was that the way he looked when he first came, too? When he felt included but like something big was missing? Before the others found things he could use to write music, before they found a guitar that he had to fix and tune. He remembered those days too well, and even now they sometimes made him feel sick to his stomach. It’s an ugly feeling, and not one he embraced with open arms.

“Hey.” He called out, and you looked up. “It’s almost time for dinner.”

You nodded, looking back at the river. “I’ll be there soon.”

Give them space rang out in the back of his mind. Instead, he slowly approached before sitting down next to you. All the words he wanted to say seemed to disappear.

So he went with what he needed to say, instead. “I’m sorry I’ve been treating you badly.”

You looked up, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“For snapping at you and for being cold.” He hugged his knees, staring down at the water. “It’s pushing you away and you deserve to be treated better.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay,” you said. “You don’t need to apologize. I understand.” He watched you tug up grass from the ground, no longer meeting his eyes. “It has to be hard getting used to a new person.”

“It is, but that’s not an excuse.” He said, guilt rising in his stomach. Of course you were kind of understanding. He’d seen the way you kindly treated Minghao ever since you came, understanding that he was quieter. He knew that Minghao was growing warmer toward you, too. He was just...

He didn’t know why he was so afraid to get close to you. You were just another person in the group. No one else had left before, so it wasn’t like he could cite some dramatic heartbreak as his reason. He just felt... weird when you were around. Not good, but not bad in the slightest. Just this strange off feeling that wouldn’t fully leave him.

“Jihoon?” You said after a moment. “Is it my fault?”

He furrowed his brow, staring at you. “Is what your fault?”

“That you can’t write music anymore.” You hugged yourself tight, frowning. “I heard what you told Cheol. That... You stopped being able to work after I came. So it’s my fault, right?”

Something about the quiet way you said it, like it was a fact, broke his heart.

“Would it be better if I left?” You didn’t meet his eyes. You just stared ahead, hugging yourself tight--as if you would break if you let go for too long. “I know your music means a lot to you--and to everyone else here, too. I heard Hansol say that it was like he was getting closer to remembering when he heard it. You’re really, really talented, and... and I don’t want to be the reason you lost something so personal to you--”

“I’d rather lose my music than force you to be alone in the world,” Jihoon cut you off there. A heavy pit weighed in his stomach at that: was it partially a lie? That he’d rather give up something so important to him? He couldn’t tell. But if it meant casting someone else out...

It was complicated in an ugly, dissonant way, and Jihoon loathed the feeling.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Jihoon,” your voice proceeded to decrescendo as you spoke. “You don’t know me at all. It’s okay if you don’t want me here.”

“I mean it,” he pushed. “Yes, my music’s a part of who I am... and I think it’s a part of who I was, too, but I don’t think it’s fair to blame you for the reason I’m stuck. Sometimes I get stuck. Every creative person would tell you that it happens and we just have to get through it.” He leaned forward, trying to catch a better glimpse of your face. Maybe if you looked at him and saw how serious he was, you’d realize he was telling the truth. “Minghao would tell you if you asked him, and so would Soonyoung. Sometimes he tries dancing and the moves don’t work. It happens.”

“It didn’t happen like this until I came here,” you said. “I asked the others.” The tell-tale sound of your voice cracking was a sign that you were getting close to tears. “Jihoon, I’m sorry if it somehow caused it.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice a little too sharp for his own liking. He took a quiet breath, pressing his lips together for a moment. “You couldn’t have affected me,” he said, despite the tiny voice in the back of his mind telling him otherwise. “It’s just a creative block. It happens. I promise.”

You didn’t believe him, and he could tell. “Then what gets you out of it?”

“That’s...” He trailed off. Usually, he would just busy himself elsewhere. Doing chores, playing games with the others, sometimes working out. It would just resolve itself in time.

You turned to him. “Then let me help you. Maybe I can help inspire you.”

Jihoon wanted to tell you that it didn’t work like that. That inspiration didn’t just come to him like that anymore. Every song he worked on, every unfinished lyric... It felt like something deep down that he knew when he was writing.

Instead, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “You don’t have to. I’ll be okay.”

“I want to help you.”

It scared him, just a little. But if you were serious, and he could tell that you were, then... He would let you get a little closer. Even if it turned out fruitless in the end, at least he gave you a chance this time instead of pushing you away again. He could at least appreciate your effort in the end.

And yet that night, he felt it. The itch of inspiration in the back of his mind that made him pull away from Seokmin--who had secured Jihoon in his arms in a quiet way of trying to comfort him. He made some excuse to the sleepy man about going to the bathroom, and immediately made a beeline to find his notebook and a pencil. He flipped through it, humming the melody to himself as he found a new page. He sketched in his own wobbly sheet music, filling in the notes as he knew they were supposed to fall. It was like he always had it inside of his heart, printed in ink that he just had to read to remember. The lyrics came to him easily, too:

secretly laughing, secretly crying / while hiding my state

the day that seems too much for me passes by...

Jihoon hummed to himself as he wrote the first verse, lyrics light on his lips as he sang to himself. He was quiet, but the syllables always fell perfectly into place every time. It wasn’t like real songwriting, he realized after the first few times. He knew these songs. They were finished products that he was regurgitating onto paper now. Writing original songs were always different: more stress, more strain, more writing and rewriting and striving for perfection. These always came to him. Like they were meant to be.

don’t be sorry. don’t worry. don’t be scared. now don’t cry...

And then it was gone. The itch was soothed, and instead he was left with an empty feeling as that bout of inspiration dried up too quickly. He craved more, the sweet taste of writing music lingering on his lips. He dropped the pencil onto the page, staring down at it. He felt like the next lyric was right there within his reach, and yet it wouldn’t come to him, no matter what tricks he tried to lure it closer. He buried his face in his hands after a moment, frustrated with himself in a way that was beyond words.

“Jihoon?”

He looked up, and there stood Jeonghan, half-asleep.

“Are you okay?” He said, rubbing his eyes. “You shouldn’t force it if you’re still struggling to write.”

Jihoon almost answered with the fact that he did manage to write something, but he stopped. The others always said that his music felt like something they all knew. A key to who they were before. If he told them now when he couldn’t guarantee his skills were back... What was he supposed to do if this was just a fluke? Disappoint them again? He’d rather die than face that.

“Right,” Jihoon put his notebook back. “I just... I thought I had something.”

Jeonghan wrapped an arm around him as he emerged from the room, starting to guide him back to bed. “It’ll come back to you,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”

Jihoon could only hope that he was right.

“What do you normally write about?”

You’d been hanging around Jihoon after both of you finished your chores for the day. He was sitting across from you, thumbing back through one of his notebooks of songs. He told you that he’d never managed to finish one, like something wouldn’t let him do it--the words never falling into place correctly when he tried. He had carefully handed the notebook over to you, and you saw that that was the truth: nothing was finished. Some had just a verse, others had the chorus written in according to Jihoon. You could only imagine how frustrating it was, especially for someone who was so passionate about this.

“Love, sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes sad things. It’s funny...” He mused aloud. “Sometimes it felt like I was writing for all of us, before you came.”

You looked up, brows raising in curiosity. “Huh?”

“Like...” He flipped to a song, and he softly sang the opening verse underneath his breath. You loved the way his voice sounded, and yet you could see the slight discontent on his face. “It always felt right for Seokmin’s voice. I can still sing all of them, but sometimes I ask the others to join me. And... it always sounds better when they do it.”

Maybe that’s why you ruined him, you thought to yourself. Because you weren’t a part of this group. That only raised more questions of who they were and who you were.

Instead, you settle on trying to tease him a little, “Maybe you were musicians in a past life. You’d be good at it, at least.”

He smiled, the heat rising into his face--and you could see the tips of his ears turning pink. “Thank you,” he said. “That would mean a lot of people enjoy my music. That’s... sweet of you.”

“So,” you said after smiling back at him. “To inspire you...” You hummed to yourself. “Maybe we should fall in love.”

Jihoon immediately went red at the suggestion, looking away. “That’s not funny,” he said, visibly flustered. “You sound like Soonyoung. And Seokmin. And Hansol--”

Despite your joke being far from original, you giggled. “Looks like everyone wants you to fall for them, Jihoonie. I guess makes you our Jihoonie...”

He looked up, the slightest sense of familiarity in his eyes. “Our Jihoon...?”

“I dunno, maybe we should look for things that remind you of love.” You hummed to yourself, thinking back. “Maybe flowers? Mingyu said there’s a patch near the forest--around the lake, I think. People give flowers to their loved ones a lot, right?”

That familiarity seemed to fade as he nodded along. “Right...”

“Then let’s go look!” You smiled at him.

Jihoon couldn’t really tell you no, if he was honest: it was nice to see you genuinely excited for something. It was better than the you he was more familiar with, always walking on eggshells around him like you did those first few days. The way your eyes sparkled were hard to reject, and you seemed so genuine about this, too. Like you truly wanted to help him, even though he was sure this was going to be useless in the end. He followed you out of the church, his notebook tucked away in his bag as he let you take the lead.

“Hey... Jihoon?” You spoke up on your walk along the riverside. “What was it like before I came here?”

He blinked at you, uncertain of what to say. He had stories--it was hard not to with this group--but... Where could he begin? The time he woke up to Joshua and Seokmin having a rap battle out in the common area over breakfast, before anyone else had woken up? The time Mingyu spat so hard after brushing his teeth it hit Jeonghan in the face (something Jihoon had heard secondhand)?

So he told you what he could. About those times and beyond. The times Soonyoung drank too much and went for a run that they joked would be a new world record (truthfully, they could claim any of their successes as such: no one else to compete against anymore except each other). 

Maybe he’d have stories with you, too, soon. Just things he could laugh about in the future.

Despite how pretty the flowers were, he felt nothing musically in that moment. He told you outright (it’d be wrong for him to lie, wouldn’t it?) but that there was always next time. That had made you smile, and Jihoon realized he wanted to see that sight again. You had a nice smile.

“C’mon,” you pat the spot on the ground next to you. “We have time. Sit down before we have to walk back.”

Jihoon sat down after a moment, pulling his bag from over his head as he set it next to him. You were already picking flowers, twirling them between your fingertips. How could one person be so easy going sometimes? He knew you were afraid, that you were still trying to figure out what life meant for the fourteen of you. Everyone always was, after all. And yet there you sat next to him, the sunlight kissing your skin as you played with flowers.

“How are you like this?” He asked without thinking, and you looked up. “Aren’t you scared?”

You nodded. “I am. But...” You crossed your legs, and reached out to tenderly place one of the flowers behind his ear. “There’s a lot of pretty things here. Like your music. I think they help a lot.”

The nature part he could understand. The other? He just stared at you, at a loss for words. “My music helps...?”

“Remember how you sang on my second day here?”

He nodded. Before the bonfire Seungcheol had put together. Jihoon hadn’t been planning to sing at all that day, really, but... He felt a push to. Seungkwan had asked him to as well, saying he liked hearing his songs. He remembered the hurt look on your face when he was going to stop singing, and Jihoon was thankful that Seungkwan was more mindful of you than he had been.

“I think about it sometimes,” you said. “Your voice is so pretty, but... The lines are beautiful themselves.” Jihoon could already feel his face growing warmer at your compliments. “Just the, uh...  ‘Stay here with me’ line? I think about it sometimes.”

“Is that why you stayed?” He teased you lightly, just to see the wide-eyed look on your face as you immediately backtracked--making some comment about how you decided to stay because of everyone, not just him. He laughed, light and airy. “I understand,” he said. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Wait... Were you teasing me?” You were smiling. “Aw, Jihoonie..” You giggled. “Does that mean you like me?”

“I’ve always liked you,” he said. “Just because I was uncertain in the beginning didn’t mean I disliked you.”

You nodded. He had a point there--You were uncertain, too. There really wasn’t anyone you disliked when you first came. Some you liked more than others, yes, but that didn’t imply disdain for anyone. “I’m glad,” you said. “I like you, too.”

Jihoon didn’t have a song right then and there, but inspiration struck again that night. The melody lodged itself in his throat with the words mixed in, and he left bed to go write. In the low light, he worked, writing out notes and lyrics as he went.

in the future / so i won’t be sorry / I want to always be waiting / that makes me feel better

even if you get lost / and it takes you a while / come round and round back to me / even if it’s far ahead in the future

And then it was gone again. It made him want to tear his hair out, always stopping too short now. Like he tasted ambrosia and the rest of the dish was pulled away right as he wanted more. Even if the itch of inspiration left him, he always felt frustrated now. He felt like someone was feeding him those words one by one before putting the plug back in before they fully drained back into him.

“It’s them, isn’t it?”

Jihoon jumped at the sight of Hansol standing in the doorway. He thought he would have heard him approaching, the same way he had heard Jeonghan. But Hansol apologized, making his way into the room after a moment.

“No. I just felt inspired--”

“Both times after they spent time with you,” Hansol said. “We get it, dude.” He gave him a small smile, yet he seemed more timid than usual. “If it’s them... Then maybe it’s them for a reason.” He grew quiet again, almost reluctant to admit his thoughts. “Sometimes... I think they’re making me remember something, too.”

“Have you?”

“Not really,” Hansol sighed. “Like. Okay, it’s gonna sound weird, but... It’s kind of like a sneeze, okay? Like it’s right there, but it won’t just happen. Maybe if I spent more time with them, I’d remember something by now. But... I don’t know. I think I’m okay for right now.” He leaned back against the wall. “I want to remember, I really do, but I want to do it on my own terms.”

Jihoon understood, even though he couldn’t relate. All he’d ever had was his music and his given name. It’d be nice to have something real back: his history, not just his songs. It felt good to have those back, sure, but what about him as a person? There had to be more to him than just his music, right?

“C’mon,” Hansol nudged him back toward the hall. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Jihoon went along with him, making a mental note to himself. He’d have to be more careful from now on just to make sure he didn’t wake anyone else up. He wanted to do this privately, after all.

No sense in getting anyone’s hopes up if you weren’t the key to remembering, after all.

”I’m not asking because I want to stop,” you said to Jihoon one day while walking along the fields. The sun was going to set soon, and that meant the two of you would need to head in for dinner. “But... Why is your music so important to you, exactly?”

Jihoon didn’t really have an answer for you when you asked. It just always had been. It was a key part of who he was and who he became after he came here. Except maybe it was a part of the way he expressed himself before he came, and now he was just tapping into that. He could write emotions into his lyrics and it’d feel refreshing.

And now... It felt like his music was an answer he didn’t know he was looking for.

“It just is,” was what he settled on.

“Oh.” You looked upset, and Jihoon realized how his tone was a little too sharp. A little too icy, unintentionally. “Sorry, Jihoon, I didn’t mean to cross a line--”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “Sorry. I just mean... It always has been. The others said I used to be restless when I first came here. I couldn’t sit still because it always felt like there was something I was supposed to be doing.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Cheol found a notebook and said I could write my thoughts in it if I wanted to.” He knew his notebook rested inside of his bag. “I used to journal in it, but it didn’t help. I thought that maybe I was just thinking too much. Then I wrote a part of my first song.”

You looked up from where you’d been kicking a pebble along the ground. “And that helped?”

“It was a miracle that he found a guitar for me.” Jihoon was watching where he stepped, no attention paid to you. “It helped. Sometimes I have to play a song to get it right.”

“You say that like you aren’t making them up yourself.” You laughed softly. “Like, aren’t they yours? You act like they’re already made.”

“I think they are.” He looked up. “I think I wrote these in my previous life.”

You realized how serious he looked. “Oh.” And then you understood: Jihoon’s songs had to be his key to finding out who he was. “So that’s why they’re important to you.”

“What’s important to you, then?” Jihoon asked. “Has anything made you feel closer to remembering?”

You twisted your mouth in frustration. (Oh. Sore topic, Jihoon realized.) You merely walked along, trying to pinpoint something that made you feel more like yourself. Mealtimes, maybe, but even then that was more a sense of belonging to something--like a family--than it was a sense of recognizing yourself. You opened your mouth to talk, only for your foot to slip out from underneath you.

Jihoon immediately caught you by the hand, pulling you back to steady you. Despite the fact that you thought he would, he didn’t pull away immediately.

“Be careful,” he told you quietly. (He didn’t tell you that he kind-of liked the weight of your hand in his own.)

You just let him hold your hand, happy to have someone who can anchor you. Even though you knew he didn’t reciprocate the budding crush you were developing for him (it was hard not to: he was passionate and talented and cute as hell), you were glad Jihoon was watching out for you now. It made you want to watch out for him more, too. But...

His hands were warm. It made you feel safe.

(Your hands made him feel safe, too. Safe enough to wake up with lyrics in his head, feeling closer to something. He wrote the words ‘above that endless sky / this night of stars pouring down / is looking at you sleeping next to me’ while thinking about your sleeping face across from his own. ‘No matter what happens / don’t worry, i’m by your side’ came to him, too.)

“I know where I want to go today.”

It was rare for Jihoon to lead the way. He’d only done it one other time where he wanted to walk by the river, that time being aimless. Yet this time, he had a specific place in mind. He guided you out to the river, nodding toward the path up the hill. You hadn’t been upstream before, and Jihoon gestured for you to follow closely. He was gentle in telling you which spaces could get slippery, more than you’d expect, and to just let him know if you needed him to guide you by hand at any point. The walk uphill was harder, after all, and he understood that. You stayed close to him, listening to the sounds of nature as Jihoon had no stories he wanted to tell you, apparently. You were okay with that. Sometimes it was nice to go for a peaceful walk with Jihoon, even though your legs were aching a bit by the time you finally crested that hill. He walked a little further, sitting down in the grass before looking up at you.

“Sometimes I come up here to look at everything.” He looked ahead.

“This feels special,” you said. “Are you sure you want me to know about it?”

He nodded. “You’re one of us,” he said. “Everyone else knows. I want you to know, too. You’re special to me--Like the others are.” You could see color leaking into his face, red and pink tinting his ears and his cheeks. “You’re all special to me. I just wanted you to know about this place, too. Look--”

He started to point things out from there, distracting you from his embarrassed expression before you could tease him a little for it. You could see the church from there. He pointed out the spot that Hansol liked to go out to in order to stargaze, farther in the distance than you’d expect. In the other direction, out past where you had your bonfire with them, he told you the city was beyond those hills. If the hill the two of you sat on now was taller, you’d probably be able to see some buildings in the distance if you looked hard enough.

“I can see my world from here,” he said. “Mostly, at least. You can see where the lake is--even though the trees are in the way.”

You turned to look. “It’s pretty.”

“All of this is all I’ve ever known since I woke up,” he said. “I don’t remember much about my life. All I really have is my name and my music. I think that makes us similar.”

You turned back to face Jihoon. Similar...?

“I remember little parts, though,” he said. “Like studying music for a really long time. Or watching TV, or playing games... I remember working hard for a really long time.” He pulled at the grass underneath him. “But that’s it. Sometimes I think my music is all I am.”

“That’s not true.” You frowned. “You’re more than your music, Jihoon. You’re our hardworking Jihoonie,” you giggled. “And I love that about you. You’re like...”

Jihoon looked up after you took too long to continue. “Like?”

“The eye of a storm, I think.” You frowned. “Or like winter. A lot of the others tend to be high energy--like Soonyoung, or Chan, or Mingyu... It’s nice to have people who balance it out and make things feel peaceful. You’re dedicated to what you do. People like you and Minghao help this family feel like home at the end of the day.” You laid your hand over his own, not saying a word about it--and Jihoon wasn’t sure if you noticed. “I’m glad you’re here, Jihoon. I know things were different at the start, but... I’m glad you understand how I feel, too. Sometimes it feels like all I am is an amnesiac who couldn’t even remember their own name.”

“That isn’t true, either,” Jihoon said. “You work hard. You always try to include people in things and take care of us. You don’t have to remember who you are to be someone important to me--to us.”

You could feel the heat rushing to your face. “That’s sweet, Jihoon. You’re sweet,” you leaned forward, brushing your lips against his cheek. “We should head back. Mingyu wanted me to help with dinner tonight,” you stood up, extending a hand to him. “Shall we?”

Jihoon took your hand, letting you pull him to his feet. You didn’t let go until you came back to the church. You had giggled at him, saying that you didn’t need him to make sure you wouldn’t fall anymore--but you appreciated him holding on. Jihoon, on the other hand, didn’t realize how natural it felt to hold your hand on that walk back.

Lyrics flow from him easily that night, his heartbeat in his ears as he worked.

what do i do with you? / i look at you but i think of you even more / you’re my only one / what do i do?

what do i do with you? / what do i do because of you? / every day, every day, every day / i like you so much, what do i do?

Jihoon sat, staring at his notebook and the words he wrote. He reread them over and over, panic already setting in as he realized exactly what was starting to blossom in his chest. Oh no. Oh no. You’d been on his mind the entire time while he was writing, but that was normal. It was normal for him to think of you while he wrote lyrics now. It was your outings, wasn’t it? Just like Hansol said. You were the key, so thinking of you was safe and normal. The stupid soft smile on his face was normal, too. He’d written love songs before, and yet...

Yet...

Fuck.

Jihoon avoided you for several days after he realized how he was feeling toward you, something he already deemed unfair without a second thought. The others noticed the way he was pushing you away again, making an excuse to do chores he was picking up for the others. Except this time, ever rebuff has an apology attached to it that he wholeheartedly meant. He was sorry he couldn’t go for another walk with you, that he couldn’t join you in making snacks, that he was too busy for another game with you and the others. He snapped more easily at other people, always realizing how sharp his words were again and apologizing immediately after. Then he started pushing the others away, opting for his alone time.

And that alone time was spent curled up somewhere with that same notebook and pencil, staring at a page that he wanted to write words onto. To add new notes, to write something good again. Instead, he was stuck wishing he had the damn words to say. Nothing was coming to mind, as if stopped out entirely. All he could think about, as much as he hated to admit it, was you, you, you en continuo with no coda in sight. A continuous crescendo of thoughts dedicated to you, to the way you smiled, to the way the light would hit your skin: and yet no matter what songs he wanted to spin for you, he came up short every time.

Seungcheol found him staring at his notebook. “Can I read it?”

Jihoon let him. Seungcheol pulled it from his lap, watching the numb way Jihoon had been staring off into space. He flipped through the recent pages, the last song that he wrote. And... he just knew.

“How does this one go?” He asked after a moment, setting it into Jihoon’s lap before going to retrieve the guitar. He pointed out one of the pages--not the newest, but one of the few before it. The day that Jihoon had gone with you to the lake, and you managed to sweet-talk him into joining you in the water for a bit. Your laugh enchanted him, he swore.

Or maybe it was the way your eyes always lit up when you saw him. The way you smiled. The way your presence rivaled the sun; every sappy word he’d read in romance novels, he now wanted to pen them again for you in a song. Jihoon strummed the guitar to test whether he needed to tune it again, and took a deep breath once satisfied.

“My love only amounts to this...”

He played the chords, eyelids lowering as he played the song by heart. A melody he had hummed to himself over and over. He thought, out of the corner of his eye, he could see someone at the entrance. Seungcheol side-stepped, standing in the way as he gestured for him to continue.

“Hello, my joy. Even in deep despair, you always make me laugh. By my side, you let me forget everything for a moment...”

And he kept playing, still singing, beyond the words he’d written on the page. Beyond the notes, beyond anything he’d ever written before. He just knew it, like the song was a part of him.

And for the first time since he came, Jihoon finished a song. He felt exhaustion set in immediately, like it took everything he was to finish something like this.

This was his. This wasn’t just his. It was complicated, but he felt like it was something that he made that didn’t belong to just him. Our Jihoonie came back to mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling as if a memory was pushing at the front of his brain. Our Jihoon? Our Jihoon. The name felt familiar on his tongue, and yet it seemed to seep away. But he knew one thing:

This was because of you. It’s you.

Seungcheol turned back to the doorway, and said the one thing that Jihoon didn’t want to hear: “Mouse?”

He stepped out of the way, and there you were, slack-jawed and staring like you’d heard something beautiful. You had, hadn’t you? You always said his music was beautiful (that he was beautiful, but Jihoon thought that was just Mingyu teasing). You blinked once, twice, and stuttered out an apology before quickly taking off.

Jihoon stared at where you’d been standing for a moment before immediately pushing the guitar into Seungcheol’s hands. He followed you out, already looking for you. Soonyoung was sitting on the couch, more focused on his conversation with Hansol than anything else.

“Where did they go?” He asked, and Soonyoung looked up. “Mouse. Where did they go, Soonyoung?”

Soonyoung stared at him for a moment, before he pointed to the way out. Jihoon thanked him, immediately heading that way. He slipped into his shoes on the way out, climbing out of the hole in the back of the church. Chan told him that you were heading toward the river when he passed by you, and that you looked troubled. Jihoon didn’t need to ask which way. He just knew.

Sure enough, he found you at the top of the hill. You were standing with your back to him, staring off toward the setting sun. He admired the way the sunset painted you in shades of orange and gold, kissing your skin in the way he wished to gently hold you. You didn’t look up, and he said nothing. He let the sound of crunching grass speak for him.

“You said you’ve never finished a song before,” you said after a moment. You didn’t sound hurt, just... confused. Lost. “Is that true?”

He nodded, despite your back being to him. He found his voice a moment later. “Yes.”

“So you finished one this time?”

“I didn’t write it down,” he said. “It just... came to me.”

You looked back, finally facing him. The troubled look on your face seemed to dissipate a little, now replaced with more confusion. “Oh. So... I’ve really been helping you, then?”

He nodded once more. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You didn’t have to.” You took a step toward him before stopping, too uncertain to keep coming closer. Always mindful of his need for space. “Your music is something personal to you. You didn’t have to tell me if you wrote anything at all--”

“You inspire me,” he cut you off. There was a familiar squeeze in his chest, a need to tell you right then and there how he felt. “Everything I wrote ever since you came was because of you. You helped me. I think... You opened up my world a little more.” He took a step toward you. “And I think I need to be honest with you instead of pushing you away more.”

You almost stepped back. “Jihoon?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” He balled his fists, nails biting into his skin, just to keep his nerve. No backing out now: he needed to do this. “I think you’ve been patient with me and understanding in a way I didn’t expect. The others know me differently. You... You never pushed and always apologized when you thought you did." He took a deep breath. “I know you don’t feel the same, but I wanted to tell you so that you understood why I kept pushing you away--”

“You don’t know how I feel.”

He stared at you, already feeling his words escape him again. “What?”

“Jihoon,” you reached out, taking his hands into your own. He relaxed them, feeling the way your fingers then enclosed around his. Your touch was warm. Just like you always were. “Why wouldn’t I like you like that?”

“I...” He didn’t know. He never had a reason. He just... thought you never could see him in that way. That all of this was your way of befriending him.

“You’re so dedicated to everything that you do,” you said. “And... When you play your music, you get lost in this whole other world. You love it and it shows.” You averted your gaze, “And I wanted to help you get that back because I like you. You’re funny with the others and--and you always look out for everyone when you can. That’s why I started trying to look out for you more, too.”

Jihoon didn’t think for the first time in a while. He leaned in, lips pressing against your own as need overtook want. Just to know that this is real. That you were real and in front of him. When you kissed back, he knew it was.

That name came back to the tip of his tongue. He thought it was his. Yet when you kissed back, his mind went blank in the best way. Our Jihoon--But he just wanted, in that moment, to be your Jihoon.

He pulled back, not looking at your face. His ears were turning red at the boldness of his actions. “I want to try this,” he said. “Us. I want to try to be a good partner,” he held your hands tightly, “So let me take you on dates without it being just for inspiration. Okay? Let me make it up to you.”

“Jihoon...”

“I... I want you to fall in love with me completely,” he said in a lower voice. “And I want to fall in love with you, too. So... Can we try...”

He felt your lips brush against his cheek. He finally raised his eyes to meet your own, smiling.

You were smiling at him. “I wanna try falling in love with you,” you said with the softest giggle, always so endeared by how flustered he could become. “But... Jihoon?”

He reached up to brush a stray strand of your hair back, and his fingers grazed your jaw. “Yes?”

“Even if I’m not there yet, either,” you took his face into your hands, “I mean it when I say that I love you, okay?”

He understood that. Even though he wasn’t sure which way he loved you, he knew that he loved you. And he said it, leaning into your touch. Yet the privacy of sharing this moment with you made his gaze flicker down to your lips for a moment. “May I kiss you again?” He asked, and then realized this might be moving too fast. “You don’t have to--”

“I’d like that.”

So he leaned in, lips slanting against your own. He savored the moment, the light you were bringing back into his life with your presence alone. Even if he wasn’t fully in love with you yet...

... He truly thinks he will be. You were his joy. He could only hope that he was yours, too.

general taglist: @wonuziex​ @twancingyunhao​

under the sun taglist: @shiningstar-byulxx @twogyuu  @maijunejuly  @strawberri-uyu @bbmyungho @thedeeppoet @heeseung-lover686  @jeonncafe  @bfwonu @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @wh4txium1n  @blackwhiteandshadesofgradient @dreamhannies

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: 4th of July

The Great Shift a lot of countries differently. However, nothing could dampen the experience of Americans celebrating their Independence Day! Whether they are born and raised in the USA or a first generation trying their hand at the land of the free, the American spirit persist even in the strangest of scenarios.

Mario (Long Island, New York)

I can’t fucking believe it! All my life I’d dreamed of stepping up to the plate and playing ball! My old man said I was too much of a fat ass to do much more than work for the family when I got older. Something about having more cannolis than brains! But look who is laughing now! I guess I should start over. My names Mario Anatolli. Born in Long Island just off the coast of New York for you out of towners, 19 years ago. My family has been here for a long time, and sorta got into organized crime real early. Most guys in my family end up working for some shithead or dead, but not me. I had bigger dreams. Traveling places, meeting people, and most of all baseball! I memorized player stats, trivia, and dreamed of playing in Yankee Stadium one day. Then out of no where the Great Shift happened.

I ended up swapping bodies with this guy out in Miami during Spring Training! He was on the Miami Dolphins or I guess I am now. Turns out a bunch of nobodies who don’t know how to play baseball kind of ruin a team. Except me! I was the most knowledgeable guy on the team with one hell of a body! I’m about 5 inches taller with abs now! Not to mention handsome as hell! I’ve got guys and girls lining up for my autograph and my number! I’ll be doing a homecoming to Yankee Stadium soon, hopefully have time to catch up with the folks! I hear dad’s now in some accountants body being bullied by mom who is this handsome bouncer now. Times sure are changing! Hope they’re proud of the man their boy became!

Do-yun (Los Angeles, California)

I have to admit. I wasn’t used to swimming before the Great Shift and now I can’t get enough of it. As a first generation Korean immigrant to the states, I have to say it was hard settling down into such a new environment. Not a lot of places to go where people looked like me, bits of open discrimination because of my basic behavior, and even outward hostility at times. But I made the best of what I could. I even founded a Korean American community center that helped teach people English! That’s where I met my wife and we were lucky to have two beautiful boys. My wife works as a nurse at the nearby hospital and my youngest just graduated high school about to attend Stanford! While my oldest was studying art abroad in Paris!

Then the great shift happened. Going from a father in his 40s to a 22 year old fitness influencer was another huge adjustment to say the least. Only this time all the changes were a lot easier this time around. People wanted my attention a lot more for pictures and asked if I could be in their Tik Toks. I’ve always been good at adapting so now I’m embracing my new social media life! My sons have shifted to guys closer to my own age and so has my wife! To our surprise we ended up in Los Angeles, where we are now living in what  a lot of people are calling an Influencer House. I’m still picking up on the lingo for this younger generation. We’ve got a more interesting family dynamic for sure, but our family will learn to live with these changes and come out stronger together! Not to mention my wife is a lot more... active in her new male fitness vlogger form. I love this country. 

Dakota - Cedar Rapids, Iowa

It’s so wild being this tall! I’ve always been a bit small, growing up in the less developed and more rural areas around Iowa. My family like to move around a lot as my dad worked some odd jobs here and there between some seasonal labor stuff, but he always managed to put food on the table. We come from a mixed background! My dad is Caucasian and Black, while my mom is part Native American and Mexican! My brothers and sisters all kinda look different with me as the youngest, being the smallest. I guess that’s what inspired me to work the way I did. Tried to make my way through college studying agriculture and managed to buy a small farm that I used to grow up near. I was really starting to make some good progress when the Great Shift happened.

I found myself in such a huge body! I’m 6′9 now! Apparently this Austrian bodybuilder is pretty big online, no pun intended! My new name was Ike and I couldn’t help but admire my massive frame as soon as I realized I wasn’t dreaming. Everything from my long strong arms to my powerful sturdy legs were just so enticing! Even my huge size 17 feet were just the absolute best! Anyway I digress. Turns out modeling, acting, and sponsorships are a good way to fund a farm and pay off your student debts! So I’ve been running multiple small gigs trying to capitalize off my good looks to save up for a good cause!

Luke - Ann Arbor, Michigan

I was an older soul, pulled out of retirement during The Great Shift. Former Army Medic, who thought his best days were behind me when the world began to spin and I found myself in this handsome young man. To go from an ailing man in your 70s to a fit male model of a man in his 30s is such a rush. Many thing don’t work like you expect them to at my age and now everything about my body felt... sensitive. Not to mention becoming a whole nother race is an experience in itself.

Unfortunately I didn’t have time to confront my personal surprise or shock. I realized I had been taken to a hospital in the midst of a world wide body swap. Countless people were coming in for days with injuries and illnesses that I hadn’t been trained on in years. But I did what I could. There was a severe lack of medical professionals in the area and I was people’s best bet at survival! I managed to reset dislocated shoulders, put broken arms in casts, and learned to do invasive surgery in a few days!

My most important job though was telling people about their new medical history and keeping them informed. A surprising amount of men in men’s body knew very little about healthcare outside of their immediate body. Teaching people about their new allergies, physical limitations, and even some who now could get pregnant or required abortions, all of it was a learning experience for me as much as them sometimes. I’m happy to be in good health right now and I’m lucky to be able to share what I know with the people who need it. I hope everyone has a safe Independence Day today! Cherish the body you’re in and use it well!

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

The New Professor Part 6

The reader starts to get ready for the big date and gets a not-so-nice surprise.

Neville Longbottom x Reader

1010 words

Part 5

Warnings: Mentions of a toxic relationship, mentions and teasing about sex, slight language

The red dress in the storefront window had caught my eye. It was a little shorter than I was used to and was clearly intended to hug every curve, but the thought of Neville seeing me in that dress tempted me to at least try it on. So, I mustered whatever confidence I could and strolled into the store to find it in my size.

A few minutes later, I walked out of the dressing room to the three-sided mirror, terrified of my reflection. However, the dress looked perfect. I couldn’t help but smile; I knew this dress would knock Nev’s socks off. And more importantly, I actually wanted it to.

“You should get that dress,” a voice purred from behind me.

My heart plummeted to my stomach as my eyes darted from the reflection of my figure to the one that stood behind me in the mirror.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted me, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“J-John,” I sputtered as I spun around to face him. “What are you doing in London?”

He shrugged, his hungry eyes gliding up and down my figure, my confidence deflating with every inch he scanned. “Had to make a quick trip to meet a fellow about a book deal,” he answered casually. His eyes flickered back to my face. “What’s the occasion? Never seen you wear something like that.”

I squirmed and folded my arms, a pathetic attempt at hiding my figure from him. “Got a date,” I admitted.

John’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Someone I met at work,” I muttered, looking everywhere but at his face.

A dry laugh flew out of his mouth. “Another professor?” He smirked at my blush. “Merlin, Y/N, you sure have a type.” The smirk became a sneer. “Here’s hoping you don’t get all clingy with this one.”

I scowled at him. “That’s not fair,” I whispered.

He shrugged and threw his hands up. “Hey. All I know is after things ended between us, you ran all the way to Europe just so you wouldn’t have to see me. So good luck, I say.” He turned to walk away.

“I-I don’t need luck,” I managed, forcing myself to stand up taller.

John glanced back over his shoulder with a stinging laugh. “Not you, sweetheart. Your new beau. He’s gonna need it.” With a wave of his hand, he sauntered out the door. Out of my life again.

~

“You saw John?!” Elinor gasped from the fireplace in my small apartment at Hogwarts.

I had quickly forced myself to purchase the dress that the salesperson had insisted looked amazing on me and got myself back to the school. With a couple hours before I was set to meet Neville, I desperately called my best friend back in America; thankfully, Elinor was always ready to listen.

“It was awful, El,” I moaned, burying my face in my hands as I sat on my parlor floor in front of the fireplace. “There I was, thinking I could actually manage to have something good, and then there’s John to remind me why this is such a shitty idea.”

Elinor shook her head. “No, no. Do not let that jerk ruin this for you. He chose to keep your relationship a secret. He chose to let you think you were exclusive. He chose to lead you on. He chose to be a dick. From everything you’ve told me about this Neville, he’s looking for something real.”

“Nev’s great,” I sighed. “Really. But… I mean, what am I supposed to do when he asks me to keep things discreet? When he refuses to introduce me to people?” I shook my head. “I can’t handle being someone’s secret again.”

“Honestly Y/N, it he seems like the kind of guy who’ll want the whole world to know you’re together,” Elinor giggled.

I threw my head back. “Even worse! What happens when things go completely and totally wrong? Everyone will know. And I’ll be that dumb bimbo who threw away her new, impressive job for a guy. Again.”

Elinor’s laugh twinkled from my fireplace.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, Y/N,” she giggled. “You’re so determined that everything will go wrong. Can’t you, for once in your life, allow yourself the idea that something might go right? That Neville might be good for you?” She scanned the worry on my face. “Hey,” she added softly. “Listen. I know everything with John really messed you up. But please don’t let him take this from you. Everything you’ve said about this guy sounds great. He’s nice to you, he’s passionate about his work, he thinks you’re brilliant, and it sounds like he’s not exactly shy about being in public with you. You owe it to yourself to give this a chance.”

I sighed. “See, part of me knows you’re right-”

“Focus on that part,” Elinor interrupted before I could keep arguing. “Besides, you bought that smokin’ dress! Can’t let it go to waste, Y/N.”

A small grin broke through my frown. “Yeah. He’s gonna die when he sees me in it.”

“Imagine what he’ll say when he sees you out of it,” Elinor teased with a wink.

My eyes widened. “Oh no. No sex. I-I can’t do first date sex again. That’s what happened with John and-and I thought it meant something- and it didn’t.” I shook my head. “Maybe I’ll let him kiss me at the end of the night, but that’s it. I’m not being an idiot again.

Elinor smirked. “Fine, fine. You’ll be in a serious relationship soon enough anyways.”

“You sound just like my students,” I groaned, rolling my eyes.

“Yeah, I want to get in on that pool you were telling me about. I’ll place my money on him proposing tonight. Again, the dress.”

“Bye, El!” I quipped, ending the fireplace call as she laughed lovingly at my embarrassment.

With the fire out, I glanced into my bedroom, where the red dress was hanging, waiting for me to get dressed. I gulped. Time to start getting ready.

Bonus Chapter!

[ticklefits]

AO3 LINK! | tickletober 2021 day 1: CHASE.

voltron: legendary defender | klance | words : 2572

“Oh, don’t let me stop you. Keep singing.” With a tone much too amused and muscular figure leaned against the door frame, Keith’s eyes have locked on his boyfriend who’s settled at the countertop, chopping up onions for their lunch. His ears were previously graced with the melodic & upbeat notes of Lance’s singing before he halted as soon as he noticed Keith’s presence, cheeks dusting over in a soft shade of cherry at having been caught. 

"You snuck up on me! Y'know, all that Blade of Marmora training has made you seriously light on your feet, you're too quiet when you walk up on people--" Lance complains, obviously trying to shift the attention off of his virtuoso vocals, but Keith isn't falling for the trick. He merely grants the other a shrug, stepping further into the kitchen to peer down at the meal he was preparing before the interruption. It was a newer dish, something that Lance had talked about trying to cook before and though Keith rarely indulged in foreign grounds when it came to what he ate, Lance was a decent cook and he's willing to try anything for him. After a once-over of the food, he twists to match his gaze with Lance with Lance again, a small smirk now presented half-cocked upon his lips. 

"Being quiet has its advantages," is his rebuttal, arms crossing along the width of his chest as he gently knocks a shoulder against his love's. "You can keep complaining about it if you do it in song."

A silent curse leaks out with the sensation of heat that strengthens on the surface of Lance's cheeks, half-tempted to run into the next room and half-tempted to actually take Keith up on his offer. Complaining while singing truthfully sounds sort of hilarious and maybe Lance might've considered it had he not been ambushed by the other, but the abashment that's welled up in the center of his stomach has stolen the reigns from his usual confidence and is keeping his vocal chords locked and twisted. At this point, he's temporarily canceled prepping lunch and his new focus lies on a getaway. Sapphire sight slowly inches from where Keith stands to the archway that connects into the living room, calculating the distance to it from his own feet and weighing the risks. Keith, however, is a warrior, and a highly trained one at that, so as soon as he notices Lance's fixed stare towards the living room, his smirk widens and his own stance alters.

"C'mon loverboy, don't make me chase you down. You know I'm faster than you." There it is. A challenge. A challenge to his Leo boyfriend, who's neatly sculpted eyebrows perk and furrow and his lips twitch at the corners. 

"You're funny, Keith. The only one way you'd be faster than me, is if you tap into that cat-like Galran side of you and get on all fours. Stronger than me? Sure, maybe -- but not faster." Lance knows he just spit some fighting words, and judging by the slightly surprised, oh no he did not just say what I think he said look, Keith was about to square up. It was silent for a moment that dragged on like an hour, until Keith cements a stare at Lance and for a split second, Lance could swear he saw his pupils slit just like a feline. 

"You get five seconds."

"Wha--"

"Run."

Lance did not need to be told twice. As soon as he heard that single word practically growled from his boyfriend, he sprang into a nearly full sprint into the living room. Keith kept his words and after 5 seconds, rocketed off after Lance. By the time he had an open view of the room, Lance was nowhere to be seen. He paused, rummaging through his thoughts to figure out where Lance might have escaped to next. He figures their bedroom would be a good place to start, plenty of the places to try and hide in there; try, being the operative word there. He enters the shared sleeping space and, just to tease Lance thoroughly in case he was hiding in there, starts to tap his nails on the walls and other hard surfaces, knowing damn well the clicks and clacks will echo.

"Oh, Laaance.." the swordsman practically coos, feigning an innocent tonality all the while checking under the bed and in their closet for his prey. "You know I'm not gonna hurt you. I wouldn't ever hurt you. But you do need to be punished for what you said."

Lance can hear him. He can hear him and Keith knows that he can. Their apartment isn't very generous with running room and hiding spaces, so he's taken refuge in their master bathroom. He nearly scoffs at Keith's statements; he knows Keith wouldn't hurt him, not intentionally, but that's not what he's worried about. He knows what those clickity clacks mean. The surface of his skin is already tingling and he's biting back a grin, hands smoothing over the goosebumps popping up along his arms. He could speak lies and say he hates when Keith does this, but they both know the truth: Lance thrives on it. Every tap of his nails drives Lance insane and he can feel his body trying to gravitate towards the sound, but he refuses to give in and admit defeat. Keith challenged him, so it's on. 

He's dragging his nails now, goddammit, and he's getting closer. Those silent steps aren't so silent anymore and Keith's doing that on purpose. He wants Lance to hear him coming; it's all part of the chase. Thankfully though, their bathroom contains a door that opens up to the hallway, so if he times it right, he can get past without him hopefully noticing. Slowly, nearly holding his breath, Lance scoots to the second door and ever so gently turns the handle to minimize any sound and opens the door. A quick peek tells him that it's safe, but as soon as he fully exits the bathroom and begins his quiet tread through the hall, Keith appears behind him from their bathroom, running towards him. Lance yelps and his reaction is immediate, making a break for the living room once again. He jumps onto the couch and grabs a pillow, deciding to fend off his hunter with a weapon instead of continuing to run.

"En guard!" Comes his battle cry as Keith reaches him and narrowly misses the swing of a cushion at his head.

"That's a dirty play, McClain!" He manages to say before he gets uppercut with a cushion and it's as if the world goes into absolute silence. Lance hadn't really meant to smack him like that, but the damage has already transpired, so all he can do is gently place the couch cushions back to their proper home, all the while observing with fright behind his eyes as Keith's visage lowers back down to look at him. He says nothing, amethyst sight blank, but he does start to move towards Lance, which has the taller scooting backwards on the couch, palm outstretched as if that were to quell Keith's wrath any. 

"Keith -- Keith, babe, baby, look at me -- you know I didn't mean to do that, I swear--!" But Keith still doesn't utter a single syllable, even as he climbs atop and straddles Lance's hips. He then moves to grab some of the mini pillow cushions nearest Lance's head, one in each hand, and Lance's eyes widen, remembering a time when Pidge pulled this on him herself, except she used vinyl, elbow - length gloves. Keith's method is unorthodox, but Lance is sure it's gonna tire him out all the same. 

"Keith! No! No, no, no, no--!" But his pleas are no use. Raising the small pillows into the air, it isn't a second later that Keith starts to rapidly smack Lance's upper body with them. It's a furious barrage, one arm raining down a strike right after it's counterpart. If this was an action movie, and pillows were bullets shot out of a gun, this would be absolutely brutal. Fortunately for Lance, these soft, fluffy pillows don't hurt anywhere near a bullet wound. In fact, he's grinning all the while, limbs held askew above his head as a shield. 

"Now this is a dirty play, Kogane! Fight me like a real man!" And Lance is about to regret those words, because as soon as Keith hears him, he halts his assault and tosses the pillows to the side, eyes glinting dangerously. 

"Oh, I'm just getting started." Now unoccupied hands shift to settle on Lance's sides and instantaneously, Lance knew he was fucked. 

"Woahwoahwoah, no! No, now this is really foul--!"

"Sucks to suck."

"FIRST of all, I'm the one who taught you that saAAhahah--!" Keith's heard enough prattling out of Lance, it's time to hear some of that sweet, hilarious laughter now. Fingers scribble over the clothed flesh of his sides and waist and that already gets him into giggling hysterics. Keith will always be pleasantly surprised at just how ticklish Lance is. Nearly every inch of him is sensitive to something and it never fails to gift him with serotonin when he's got Lance beneath him, rosy cheeked, squirming around, and laughing his heart out - much like he is now. 

"Nohohohoho! Keh--Keheheheith! Stahahahahap!" His pleas are broken apart by giggles that are only raising in volume the more his sides are attacked and he's only growing further sensitive by the second. Lance knows his religiously vigorous skin care routine is partly to blame for how ticklish he is, but can you blame him for wanting soft, youthful skin? And it isn't like Keith's complaining about it either. 

"Nah, I don't think I can. My fingers are under some sort of spell." Such a blatant lie from the older pilot and the grin he dons is unmistakably teasing. 

"Yo--you're suhuhuch a lihahahahahar!" 

"What? I'm offended. I'm not lying at all. In fact, I'll tell you an easy way to break the spell and get me to the stop." 

"Gohohohohohod! Fiiiiihihihine, OKAY, okahahahy!" Lance is really beginning to struggle, squeals forcing themselves free as Keith migrates from waist, to stomach, and then to his ribs, poking & scritching between each one in an agonizing manner. "Aaahahahahaha! Tell---tell mehehehehe alreadyyyy!"

"You really wanna know?"

Lance's strength is sapping quicker than he'd like it to, but he still possesses enough of it to gently smack at Keith's arm, his giggles evolving into full blown laughter once those dastardly fingers begin reaching towards his armpits in retaliation. 

"All you gotta do is sing. Like, that one red-headed princess, to break a spell that was on her, or whatever." The fact that Keith really provided a Disney comparison to Lance's current predicament is hilarious all on its own, but Lance wasn't about to give into this torture, and deliver what Keith desired so easily. 

"Hohohohow is -- i-is ticklihihihing me suhuhpposed to make me wahahahant to SING?? B-Besides, a kihihihihiss broke Ahahariel's spell, not -- not singihihihihihing!" Poor Lance, with his cracking voice and breathy, hollow words that could scarcely be understood through all of his laughter. Keith understood the gist of it though and contemplated his conditions. He still wanted Lance to sing to him, but a kiss sounded pretty nice too. However, he isn’t quite finished with his boyfriend’s torture; there’s still one last area he very much wants to explore before he allows Lance free. Spidering digits cease their actions, smoothing up and then down the expanse of Lance’s toned torso, granting him a desperately needed, albeit quick rest. Lance doesn’t speak, merely taking this opportunity in stride to gulp down as much air as he can, because a minute part of him knows Keith isn’t done and that something wicked this way comes.

Something wicked indeed. After some very short-lived moments of repose, without skipping a beat, Keith breaks into full force tickling all over the surface of Lance’s soft thighs. The first and last thing to run through Lance’s mind is a sharp curse to himself for deciding that today was a good day to wear shorts. Keith has an all access pass to one of his death spots and he is allowing no mercy. They’re certainly going to get a noise complaint from their neighbors ( not that Keith cares ), because the inhumane screech that burst from the tunnel of Lance’s throat could probably be heard blocks away. 

“K---KEEEHEHEHEHEHITH!! NO! NOHOHO, NOT RIGHT THEHEHEHEHRE! PLEHEHEHEASE, AHAAAHAHAHAHNYTHING BUT THERRRRE--!” the couch has been shaved of all of its cushions by flailing, lengthy limbs and even Keith is having trouble keeping atop of Lance, what with all of his wriggling and buckling. 

“Geez, Lance, you almost sound like I’m killin’ you.” Keith’s grin is now from ear to ear, more than enjoying himself, the view, and his love’s ridiculously adorable laughter. 

“YOU AHAHAHAHARRRRE!! PLEEEEHEHEHEHASE!” But it’s only when Lance deflates into silent laughter, arms going limp against the couch underneath him, that Keith finally concludes his torture. Calloused hands remove themselves from the slender frame and he completely slides off of Lance, disappearing into the kitchen. Unbothered by Keith’s abrupt departure, Lance soaks up every single second of relaxation he can, until he glances up once he hears footsteps, and sees the water bottle Keith’s offering. Smiling a little weakly, Lance sits up, releasing a few lingering giggles as the movement of his still hyper - sensitive upper body brings forth some ghost touches. 

“Alright, time to break your spell.” Keith’s statement is oh so cheeky and as he leans forward, waiting for Lance to close the distance, he half expects Lance to do anything but kiss him. A pleasant surprise is given to him when he feels those familiar, supple lips intertwining with his own, and he smiles into it. The kiss lasts for a couple of seconds before Lance pulls away and eyes Keith, brow rising along his temple. 

“Guess whose job it is to prepare lunch now?”

A roll of lavender eyes, but he holds out his hand nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah. I tired you out, so I guess it’s mine. I don’t know how to make what you were making though.”

Lance takes the hand that’s offered and ascends from the couch, bending to start picking up the collapsed couch cushions. “Go on into the kitchen, I’ll be right behind you to boss you around.” Keith snorts a quickle chuckle, but does as instructed, making his way back into the kitchen. He nearly stops as something catches his ears, a heavy warmth blooming in his chest. Lance sings more than loud enough for Keith to hear him, even as he’s waiting in the kitchen. He continues singing, once all of the cushions are placed back in their proper place, and as he finally enters the kitchen. He saunters up to Keith, sight locked with sight, a hand on his chest, happiness brimming in the way he sings. 

“♪ Maybe this love is mad, you're filling every thought I have. Now I've stayed too long, and there's no turning back. Might as well dance.~ ♪” As if on cue, Keith takes his hand and spins him, earning an even more brilliant smile from Lance, and he lands softly against Keith, arms coiling around his neck to bring him back in for another kiss. Suddenly, lunch doesn’t matter so much anymore.

[hangovercurse]

Nothing

Part i of the Without You series: When Colson and Megan break up, the boys count on Y/N to piece Colson back together, which only leads to disaster.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Colson being kind of a dick, cursing, a little bit of aggression/ violence. This one’s definitely angsty.

A/N: This was supposed to be just a one part fic. Then that turned into 2 parts. And then 3. And then all of a sudden I had written 5 parts and over 10,000 words. Enjoy 😊 (also this is v unedited so if you see a mistake... mind ya business)

Word Count: 2084

| ii | iii | iv | v | vi |

masterlist

When you got the text from Rook, you knew it was probably gonna be bad. 

Megan just left him, for good. Not gonna be pretty the next few days so maybe don’t come by anytime soon. 

Your heart broke for your best friend. Colson had been really in love with Megan. And as much as you hated seeing them together for your own personal reasons, you could tell he was really happy. 

Ok. Let me know if you guys need me. If it gets bad I can take Casie for a few days. Take care of him for me pls. 

You and Colson had been friends for years now. You knew almost everything about each other, you told him everything. He let you crash at his place after your ex kicked you out, and you had spent many hours curled up with him, watching stupid movies to distract him from his most recent breakup or mental breakdown. 

But this was different. Colson told you he wanted to marry her at some point, and you knew he wasn’t lying. And you couldn’t blame him. As much as you hated no longer being the only women (other than Casie) in his life, you couldn’t dislike Megan. She was just one of those people who everyone loved. 

The thought of texting Colson crossed your mind, but you weren’t sure if it would hurt or help. From the sound of it, he was a wreck.

So, naturally, you texted Pete. 

Have you talked to Cols yet?

With Colson came Pete, or came you, you weren’t really sure. Somewhere along the way you and Pete had become close friends. He was like the older brother you’d never asked for, and he would probably say something similar about you. 

You couldn’t really explain it, Pete could read you like a book. And because of that, he knew everything. He was the only one to catch on to the way you sometimes looked at Colson for too long, or got irritated when he’d bring a new girl around. 

I’m heading over there right now. You should talk to him.

You rolled your eyes.

Not sure that’s the best idea. You guys are better at handling... all that. Once he gets a little less angry then I’ll take him. 

Pete texted you back a few minutes later.

Thanks for the support, kid. I’ll keep you updated. Just pulled in.

Good luck, Petey.

You tossed your phone on your bed, a sigh leaving your lips. You decided worrying was a problem for another day.

No more than 12 hours later you were getting a phone call from Rook. 

“Dude it’s like 4 in the morning, why are you calling me.” 

“Y/N, we’ve tried everything. He’s locked up in his room and every time one of us tries to talk to him he blows up. Literally he almost punched Slim a few hours ago.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning at the predicament. “So now you want me to come over?” You asked, “What do you think I’m gonna be able to do?”

“Well he’s not gonna try and hit you for one. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s significantly nicer to you than to anyone else.”

“What do I even say to him? “Sorry that the love of your life broke up with you but at least we can smoke pot and watch Spongebob?” I mean come on, man. I’m not good at this.”

“Please.” He pleaded, “We’re all out of options and I can’t stand to see him get any worse than he is.”

You moved off your bed and towards your dresser. “Fine, I’ll be there in 15.” 

You threw on the first pair of sweatpants you could find and slipped on shoes, grabbing your key and heading out the door.

True to your word, you pulled up to the house 15 minutes later, parking on the side of the street and heading straight into the house. When the guys saw you, they visibly brightened up. 

“You guys are such fucking wimps.” You rolled your eyes as you made your way towards the stairs. 

Baze chuckled, “We love you Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and continued on your way, stopping by Casie’s room to see if she was asleep. To your surprise, she wasn’t. 

“Hey sweet girl,” you whispered as you entered her room, “why are you still up?”

She smiled a little when she saw you. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m really worried about Dad.” 

You leaned on her doorframe, sending her a sad smile. “I am too. But he’ll be okay. Your dad’s pretty tough.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but he really liked Megan.”

“Did you?” You ask, trying to gauge her emotions. 

“I mean, I guess so. She was nice to me. Most of his girlfriends aren’t that nice to me.” 

“That’s a pretty shitty way to measure if you like someone or not.” She giggles at that. “Don’t tell your dad I said that word in front of you.”

“Ok. She was nice. And she made him happy so, yeah, I guess I liked her. Not as much as I like you but...” Casie’s voice got higher as she dragged out the last word and you just rolled your eyes with a chuckle. 

Casie had this fantasy of you and Colson getting married one day, but you always told her it would never happen. 

“Ok kiddo, whatever you say.” You teased her, “try and get some sleep, okay?” 

She nodded with a smile. “Are you gonna go talk to Dad?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, okay? If you need to come over and talk or stay the night or anything just call me, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” She said quietly. 

“Love you too, Case.”

You shut the door to her room, moving down the hallway to Colson’s door. You took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and knocked. 

“I told you guys to go the fuck away.” A muffled yet angry voice said from the opposite side of the door.

“It’s me, Cols. Y/N.” You said, hoping he could hear you. 

When you got no response you asked, “Can I come in?” 

A few more seconds of silence followed, and then the lock clicked and the door opened. You stood face-to-face with your best friend. His hair was a mess, falling in his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than ever, and the frown he wore made him look even more pathetic. You felt your heart breaking. 

As you met his eyes, you gave him a sad smile. “Hey Cols.” 

Instead of responding, he wrapped his arms around you, leaning down and resting his head on your shoulder. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair. 

He started walking backwards, pulling you with him as he continued to hug you. One of his hands pushed the door shut and he sat on his bed, finally letting go of you. 

You looked down at him, grabbing his hand and holding it in your own. It was something you had done before, you two were very touchy people and so half of your friendship was just you two cuddling or play fighting or holding hands.

“So we can do one of three things,” you started, “We can talk about it, we can cuddle and watch something stupid and pretend nothing’s wrong, or we can get high and do something stupid.”

For the first time in what you would imagine to be all night, Colson smiled. it was a very small smile, but you took it. 

He looked up at you through his eyelashes. “And by stupid you mean...”

You rolled your eyes, “I mean we can go set off bottle rockets in the backyard or try to jump off your roof and into the pool.” 

“Oh damn. I was hoping you were gonna say you would suck my dick.” 

Your eyes widened at his bluntness and the implication. You shoved his shoulder, “Colson! That’s gross!” You giggled, but his expression was unwaveringly serious. 

“I’m being serious.” He deadpanned and you furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Colson what the fuck?” Your mind was spinning trying to figure out if he was joking. 

You got your answer when he stood up, grabbing your waist and leaning over you. “I thought you’d want to...” 

You took in a breath at the sudden proximity, trying to back away from him but his grip remaining firmly on your waist. “Colson, stop. Please. This isn’t funny.” 

You could smell the alcohol on his breath and you had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. He’s drunk, and sad, and doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

“I thought you’d want to, cause it’ll make me happy. And you’ll do anything to make me happy.” One of his hands reached up and grabbed your jaw, making sure you couldn’t look away.

“Colson you’re being a fucking weirdo, let me go.” You raised your voice. Your heart was racing at this point and the thoughts flowing around your head were not pretty. 

You were always anxious for the day he’d figure you out. When he’d finally realize how you felt for him. But this was worse than anything you’d thought of. 

“You’ll do anything to make me happy because you love me, right?” 

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, wanting nothing more but to look away from his sinister expression. The way he was looking at you made it very clear that he was enjoying your discomfort, your embarrassment. 

“Colso-” 

He walked forwards, pushing you gently against the wall. His arms went to either side of you, his face inches from yours. You tried to look away, but his hand on your jaw forced you to face him.

Any other time you would have loved for Colson to pin you against his wall, but this was wrong. 

“Just say it. Say you’re in love with me, and I’ll drop it.” 

“Colson, what the fuck are you on right now?” You tried to steer the topic away from you, but he wouldn’t have it. 

“Say it.” 

You reached up to try and push his chest away from you, but he was much taller and stronger than you, so you did nothing. 

“Just tell me!” He yelled at your silence. A tear slipped down your cheek as you trembled under him. His face was red and his eyes were watering. 

 “Why are you doing this?” You whispered. This all felt like a bad dream, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 

“Because I need to know if she was right.” His voice got a little quieter, but he still wouldn’t move away from you. “I need to know if the reason the love of my fucking life just left me is true.”

You were shaking, your breaths getting shorter. “What are you talking about.” Your words were choked. The grip on your jaw started to get a little too tight.

“I defended you!” He yelled, tears falling from his face. “She told me that you were in love with me and I defended you.”

“Colson you’re hurting me.” You whined, trying to wriggle your way out of his grasp. He ignored your statement and continued talking, but his grip loosened slightly.

“And then she told me that she thinks I’m in love with you.” His voice was getting darker. “And that’s why she left. So I want to make it very clear to you.” He paused, leaning closer to your ear. “I will never love you. Ever. Not now, not in a million lifetimes. You mean nothing to me.”

Your vision was blurry from your tears, so you blindly reached out to push him away from you. His body seemed to have given up, as he moved backwards out of your way, stumbling slightly. Through your tears you could make out a smug smile on the man before you ran out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

You ran down the stairs, the guys waiting for you to give them good news, but their hope turned to concern once they saw you. You walked straight past them towards the door, not trusting yourself to say anything without breaking completely.

As you reached for the door handle you heard a faint yell from upstairs, followed by loud banging, and then silence. You sniffled, turning the handle and leaving the house, much to the protest of your friends.

[thisisaname-whatahappyname]

hell-o prev !! also known as @emintoomanyfandoms hello emintoomanyfandoms here is a cat picture emintoomanyfandoms

flattered to be here ^^ be warned i have concocted an (okay several-) essay(s)

1.Are you named aftert anyone?

not counting deadnames here because that is a whole can of worms but!! my name is athena ^^ it is half in part named after the goddess Athena (war and wisdom i love that for her also she is aro an ephitet of hers is she who fights in many battlefields except in the battlefield of love which is just So Cool of her really she is one of the people that the goddess Aphordite has no power over and-) and also half in part of a brand of milk my mom thought sounded nice ^^ which is honestly Very on brand for me

2.When was the last time you cried

yesterday while reading a fanfic probably unless you count singular (1) tears then earlier^^ (i am okaybtw was just a bit too much stress for this silly little being of mine)

Tres. Do you have kids?

nopw ^^ technically i joke about having adopted like several unsentient little dudes with @/fruityphrog but literally nah mate i am not just 15 i an also extremely hmm on the whole thing like i am uncomfortable at the thought of giving birth and if i were intrested in adopting if probably adopt some of the more older ones dont get me wrong !! small children are great i would love to be an auntcle someday but i can not stand by and take care of and be responsible for a small little child 24/7 that would not be good for me and as a consiquence The Child

Quatro. Sarcasm, do i use it?

hmm i wonder no obviously not definitely not mmhmm

but in all seriousness i do ! i may not use em too often (sadge) but i like using sarcasm and find it funny and all that

5. What sports have you/do you play?

does rollerskating count as a sport is is that just a physical activity that doesn’t exactly register as a sport unless in competitive circumstances? because otherwise i got nothin’

6. Whats the first thing you notice about people?

✨🌅 The Vibes 🕺🏾💃🏼

Pito. Whats your eye color?

dark browm ! you wouldnt notice tgat until you pay attention to em tough or like unless theyre in direct sunlight and not covered up by my hair otherwise they look pretty black ^^ (dont be fooled however they are a mimickery :>)

8) Scary movies or happy endings?

Both ! it depends on the vibe the time the place and the person probably ! (ignore that part though ^^ you get to decide which one ^^)

9 Any special talents?

Drawing, Acting probably, pretty good at singing and writing and as for anything hidden hmm i can listen to most song and assign em a character and have that song b pretty in line w their characterization

oh also sayibg tge right things apperantly mostly used for good, flirting, comforting, smiles, essays, vaugely poetic stuff, wrting, occasionally used for psychologically manipulating people so i win at uno (or poker ^^ ) (among us too) (man i really should play monopoly more that game is great) among other things one needs not to worry about (laughs in anon lore)

10 Where were you born?

in a city an hour or so from where i live :> (sorry folks no doxxing details this time ):)

11 Whatre your hobbies

Art, imagine cernarios in my said (fanfic animatics etc etc) reading social media and cooking ^^ (kind of)

12 Do you have pets?

on paper we have two dogs, in practice they are my parents employees doggos and i have made friends with the neighborhood cats i see on the window on my way back from school

and also mimi ^^ were friends now again i think she swings by the store sometimes shes cool (except for when she isnt ):) (not like to me or anything but she is not that good of a mama )):)

13 How tall are you

5’5 or 5’6 but probably 5’5 silver is like one or two inches taller than me and he used to tease me for it a lot ^^ (for context; he used to be shorter, by like a head)

14 ) Favorite subject in school?

The material in Mapeh (music arts pe and health) is honestly pretty interesting and Economics Math and Ethics (i love psycoanalyzing myself and getting high grades for it) class have all been pretty interesting (so has Filipino but that’s mostly because the book were studying this semester i have developed an intrest in smilw)

which is funny cause im normally an english person (still am got like 3 wrong on a 120 point test) but the other things have just been So Intresting, More Intresting (by like A Lot) lately >:0

15 Dream Job?

A Content Creator :]

OP EN TAGSS BAYBEE DO WHAT YOU WILL

15 questions, 15 mutuals

tagged by @hxilstorm my love :)))

1. are you named after anyone? No, fun fact my parents still hadn't chosen a name for me when we left the hospital! They chose my name pretty randomly from a baby book I think. My middle name's from some great aunt on my mum's side but I never knew her

2. when was the last time you cried? umm two weeks ago when i realised I was gonna have to submit my final essay a day late

3. do you have kids? um NO at this age??? Maybe down the track but yk, depends on the partner/circumstances/general state of the world I guess

4. do you use sarcasm a lot? yeah I probably do, I don't really notice though

5. what sports do you play/have you played? I've been playing soccer nearly 10 years now and it's one of my favourite things, I also did gymnastics, AFL and swimming when I was a kid.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people? their voice and the way they talk

7. what’s your eye colour? blue baby

8. scary movies or happy endings? I don't dislike scary movies it's just that I don't really get it? so I guess I'll say happy endings

9. any special talents? define special- I can juggle, I'm ok at devils sticks. OH and I'm pretty good at using and fixing printers!!

10. where were you born? a while outside Melbourne, abt half an hour from where I live now

11. what are your hobbies? I play the piano! I also like to embroider, make friendship bracelets, and I'm learning to sew

12. do you have pets? yes yes yes! I have 2 dogs, a cat and 2 horses. I'm so excited atm bc this holidays we're hopefully going to start building a chicken shed and I can finally have chickens again after 5 years!!

13. how tall are you? around 5'7? I don't actually know exactly

14. favourite subject in school? tbh i didn't really have one- literature, maths and french are probably tied but they it depends on the teacher

15. dream job? dream job is no job, I would very much like to just sit around and make things all day. Is that an option? I wanted to be an artist when i was a kid. More realistically though, I'd like to teach or do some kind of support work in schools

u don't have to if u don't want to but I'm passing it on to @glitchydyke @startingfires, @megadan94, @thelonelyrainbowdude, @thedumpsterwizard @learnyourlessonswell, @bedrock-sedodn @violet-prism-creatively @omg-a-shark @boobie-fucker, @sentimental-lil-thing, @skyward-nerd, @emilreloaded, @punkocelot @my-dude-james, @dinsicle