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freddie-weaselbee · 4 years ago

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Kiss Her You Fool//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Very brief mentions of nudity (skinny dipping), one argument, mentions of food

Summary: The countdown is on until Fred and George plan on making their grand exit from Hogwarts. But that means Fred only has a short amount of time to finally confess his feelings to his best friend.

Prompt: Kiss Her You Fool by Kids That Fly

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: For @amourtentiaa's writing challenge, with the song Kiss Her You Fool being the prompt. Second fic in Abby's Week of Weasley !

~Abby's Week of Weasley Masterlist~ ~Masterlist~

Five Days Left

Stop making up your excuses

Call her up, tell her you forgot something

“You’re staring again.”

Fred ignored his brother and continued to watch you and your friends spread out on the courtyard grass. He watched as you sat up and brushed the leaves out of your hair, laughing at something that your friend said. He admired your glowing smile, which always lit up the room. Your perfect, beautiful smile.

“Fred,” George said, this time a little more forcefully. Fred shook his head and finally took his eyes off of you, much to his disappointment. He blushed profusely and turned back to his brother, who was holding a list of all the things they would need to do before their departure in 5 days. “You’re whipped.”

“Am not!” Fred argued. “She’s just nice to look at, that’s all. Plenty of girls here are nice to look at.”

“Mhmm,�� George replied. “So is that why you’ve turned down any advances from the other girls who are nice to look at? Just admit it, little Freddie’s in love!” George sighed dreamily, only to be met with a punch to his shoulder from his annoyed twin.

“She’s just my friend! My best friend. Even if I did see her that way, which I don’t--” George gave Fred an unbelieving look but Fred continued, “--it’s not like she would feel the same way. And we’re leaving in 5 bloody days! There’s no point.” He huffed and put his head in his hands, wishing there was some way that everything could work out perfectly for him and you.

“Stop making up your excuses, mate!” George said, completely done with his brother’s antics. “Just go tell her how you feel. Worst case scenario she rejects you, we leave in a few days, and you both have a few months to get over it. You’re making this too complicated.”

Fred looked back over to where you were, seeing that Roger Davies and his friends had made their way over to you and your friends. He noticed the small blush that appeared on your face as Roger brushed your hair behind your ears, and Fred had to pry his eyes away before he got even more upset.

“I can’t lose her, Georgie,” he said softly. “She’s my best friend. I need to have her in my life, even if that means just as a friend.”

George rolled his eyes but patted his brother on the back comfortingly. “You have to tell her some time, or you’ll go the rest of your life regretting it. You only have 5 days left before we’re gone for good.”

Fred nodded, courage surging in his chest. 5 days. That’s 5 chances to tell you and hope that against all odds you felt the same way. Feeling at peace with the time he had, Fred finally put his focus into helping his brother plan, but not before taking one last look over to where you laid so serene in the afternoon sun. He still had time.

Four Days Left

It's worth more than you are thinking

Don't be a fool, tell her you think she's cool

Fred stood alone outside of Snape’s classroom, leaning up against the cold corridor walls and waiting for the teacher to arrive. He was already in a fowl mood that day, and receiving detention from his second least favorite teacher didn’t help him at all.

He was considering just skipping detention altogether--what would Snape be able to do in a few days when Fred was no longer a student?--until he heard a familiar voice calling his name from down the hall.

“Freddie!” Fred’s mood did a complete 180 as he saw his favorite person come running down the darkly lit corridor toward him. Throwing yourself into his arms, Fred swung you around before placing you down and leaving a quick kiss on your forehead, a friendly gesture that he always did when greeting you. “I’m so glad you’re here, I thought I was going to have to handle the Greaseball all by myself!”

Fred laughed at your excitement, equally relieved that he wouldn’t be alone as well. He kept his arms around you, enraptured by your electrifying gaze. A harsh cough broke you two apart and you turned to see Professor Snape standing behind you.

“I should not have to be reminding you,” he drawled, “that in accordance with our Headmistress’ orders, boys and girls are not permitted within 8 inches of each other. As a punishment for that unnecessary display of affection, I’ll be adding an extra hour onto your detention for tonight.”

“Oh no!” you cried in mock horror. “Another whole hour spent with my best friend? Professor, how can you be so cruel?”

Fred beamed down at you proudly, your sarcasm and attitude always making him fall in love with you a little bit more.

Snape was not amused. “Two hours.”

You sent Fred a quick wink before following your teacher into the dark musty classroom.

Stalking dramatically around the room, Snape explained your task for the night, which consisted of cleaning every single one of the cauldrons, even the broken ones that no one used, with a brush smaller than your toothbrush. You leaned your head on Fred’s shoulder when Snape’s back was turned, sending a warm tingle down his spine.

You quickly shot away once Snape turned back, but luckily he didn’t seem to pick up on anything. “I hope that you two can make my room spotless?”

“Yes sir!” you said, saluting him. He grumbled something under his breath before exiting slowly, leaving you and Fred alone.

You hopped up on one of the desks and patted the space next to you, gesturing for Fred to join you. “So, what do you wanna do?” you asked him.

“Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, clean quickly so that we can get out of here?” Fred answered.

Suddenly you grabbed Fred’s cheeks in your hand, squeezing tight and looking at him suspiciously. “Who are you and what have you done with Fred Weasley? The Freddie I know and love would never actually want to work in detention.”

Fred smiled through his pinched cheeks, shaking out of your grip. “As much as it pains me to say this,” he said, “I don’t have time for mischief at the moment. I’ve just… got a lot going on. Big things are happening soon.”

You scooted closer and tried to read him. Fred would never pass up the chance to goof off during detention, especially when it was detention with you, and you knew that. “Hey, is something going on? Are you alright?”

Fred put on a fake smile and turned away from you. “I’m fine, love, just a little stressed out lately.” He should tell you that he was leaving. He’d been keeping it between him and George, and he knew the longer he waited the more it would break you to hear. But looking at your concerned expression laced with love and compassion, he knew he couldn’t bear to see you sad on his behalf. It could wait.

“What’d you even do to end up in here?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

You shrugged. “Snape blamed me for cheating on my Potions assignment, which I didn’t, and even if I did I wouldn’t be stupid enough to get caught. But he wouldn’t listen, so I snuck into his classroom last night and set off a bunch of fireworks, courtesy of you, Mr. Weasley! The products you gave me for my birthday worked perfectly, thanks!”

You kissed his cheek, and he stuttered out a “you’re welcome,” hand coming up to touch the place where your lips were moments before. “Wait, so he caught you then?”

“Of course not!” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m far too smart for that. He gave me the detention because he thought I had cheated, and he doesn’t have enough evidence nor suspicion to pin the fireworks on me. I figured if I was going to get a detention for something I didn’t even do, I might as well do something to deserve it!” You hopped down off of the table and went to grab the tools you needed for cleaning, an awestruck Fred watching with his mouth hanging open.

In Fred’s eyes, you were amazing. You were feisty, headstrong, and so incredibly smart. Not to mention he thought you were absolutely breathtaking, especially when you got that cocky and mischievous glint in your eyes.

“You’re so cool,” he sighed, making you turn to him with a slightly confused smile.

“Not the usual compliments I get from you, Weasley, but I’ll take it. I think you’re cool too.” You handed him a small brush and got to work on the cauldron nearest to you, scooting over so Fred could join you.

The two of you worked in comfortable silence, something Fred desperately wanted to preserve. As much as he yearned to tell you his feelings, he still had 4 days. It could wait until tomorrow.

Three Days Left

Stop waiting for a fairytale to

Take you away, don't wait for someday

Fred relentlessly combed his fingers through his hair, one moment deciding it was too messy and the next deciding it wasn’t messy enough. He’d been standing in front of the mirror for the last 30 minutes trying to figure out what he should wear, how he should style his hair, whether or not he should wear rings (he finally settled on yes) and pretty much everything else he could worry about for a date.

Except this wasn’t a date.

As much as Fred wanted nothing more than for him to hold your hand and walk through the Hogwarts halls as the cutest couple at the school, which he was sure you would be, this outing was just as friends.

Ever since you were both 14, you decided that once a month you would spend the day together, just the two of you. As friends. Sometimes it was informal, like hanging out in his dorm room or pulling a prank on a teacher or Ron. Other times it was very much like a date, where the two of you would get all dressed up and go out to Hogsmeade or find a secret spot on the Hogwarts grounds to spend your day. Today, the day trip was the latter.

Already late as it was, Fred decided he was content with how he looked, or at least as much as he could be. He grabbed the bouquet of flowers he had picked earlier and rushed out the door, having to listen to teasing from George, who had been watching him nitpick over his outfit and hair the entire time.

He sprinted down to the Middle Courtyard, hoping that you wouldn’t be too mad at him for being as late as he was. He came to a jolting halt when he saw you.

There you were, standing in the middle of the courtyard, a beautiful red sundress hugging your figure perfectly. Your hair was laying loose, but it looked as if you had curled it slightly, making it cascade past your shoulders and sway slightly in the wind. In your hands you clutched a picnic basket and blanket, prepared for your date/not date with Fred.

He walked up to you slowly, wanting to admire how angelic you looked for a bit longer, but you noticed him too soon for his liking. “Hey Fred, oh what are these?”

You were gesturing to the flowers he was holding, stems breaking from his harsh nervous grip. You took them from him gleefully and smelled the delicious scent, sighing in content and hugging them to your chest.

“You didn’t have to do this! I promise I’ll still be your friend even if you don’t bring me flowers every time we hang out,” you said.

“I know, but I wanted to see the cute look on your face when I gave them to you,” Fred said cheekily. You giggled bashfully and handed Fred the picnic basket so you could link your arm with his. The two of you made your way down to the Black Lake, Fred taking the lead and bringing you to a place you’d never been before.

“Where are we going?” you asked, too impatient for Fred’s surprises.

“It’s a secret darling, you’ll have to wait and see.”

You groaned and hit your head against Fred’s shoulder, continuing to ask and complain until you finally arrived at your destination. It was a beautiful clearing deep in the Forbidden Forest, a place Fred had found a few months ago when he was out exploring with George. There was just enough sunlight to create a small patch on the ground where you could both lay out in the warm daylight as you ate and talked the day away.

“This is beautiful!” you exclaimed, running over to set up the blanket. “How come you’ve never taken me here before?”

“We just found it,” said Fred. “But when I saw it, the first thing I thought of was taking you here.”

“You’re so sweet,” you said, pulling him down onto the blanket with you.

You and Fred enjoyed your picnic, occasionally throwing small bits of food at each other and rolling around in the grass. At one point you saw a small bunny hopping by and you immediately shot up to get a closer look.

As you moved closer it hopped away but you stayed standing, letting the sunshine hit your face with a dazed smile on you. You spun around a few times, soaking in the moment and trying to remember everything you could about this perfect day.

As Fred watched you, he couldn’t help but think that he was in a fairy tale. You were the beautiful maiden--no, beautiful princess. Yes, his princess. And he was your prince, and the two would run away together and spend the rest of your lives having wonderful picnics in the warm seasons, and dancing in the rain when the storms came around. He would sweep you off of your feet and you wouldn’t help but fall madly in love with your best friend. With your prince.

Now could be a great opportunity to tell you. To confess his feelings and deep rooted love. But today was perfect. If things went wrong, it would ruin this perfect day for the both of you. So he decided to wait, if only to preserve this memory. This moment in time when everything was how it should be.

There was no rush. He still had 3 days left. It could wait until tomorrow.

Two Days Left

She's thinking the same thing as you

Don't be afraid, dreams aren't found they're made

Fred was pulled away from subtly packing his things by the loud laughs that came from outside of his dorm, down in the common room. One particular laugh, the one he could distinguish from a mile away, caught his ear, and he rushed down the steps to see you and your friends standing by the fireplace, completely soaked.

“Do I even want to know?” he asked, catching your attention. Your friends gave each other looks, seeming to know something that you didn’t. One of them whispered something to you before leaving you alone with Fred, who was still awaiting an answer.

“We may or may not have gone skinny dipping in the lake,” you said, hand covering your face with embarrassment of being caught by your friend. Fred laughed at your confession, trying to distract himself from the thoughts of your naked body swimming through the glistening waters that kept popping into his head.

“And you didn’t invite me?” he said, crossing his arms in disappointment.

You chuckled and moved to the couch, wrapping a blanket around you tightly. “Ah yes, we all know you would never pass up the chance to join a bunch of naked girls in the lake, would you?”

Fred’s face dropped at your lighthearted joke, wondering if that was all you saw him as. Some player who wouldn’t hesitate to shag a random girl he thought was hot. Before he could think too much about this, he saw you shiver rather fiercely and he quickly went to join you on the couch.

“You alright, darling?” he asked as he wrapped a warm arm around you.

You nodded unconvincingly, teeth chattering loudly. Fred pulled you into his lap, putting both arms around your waist and leaning his chin on your shoulder in order to keep you as warm as possible.

“Thanks, Freddie,” you said gratefully. You moved to lie down and pulled him with you, entangling your limbs so that you were soaking up every bit of warmth he could give you, and Fred would give you the entire sun of it meant you would be happy.

You softly closed your eyes, a small smile resting on your wet features. As you nodded off to sleep, Fred thought back to all of the times George had mentioned that you felt the same way. His twin was positive that you were in love with Fred as much as he was with you. In moments like these, he allowed himself to believe his brother. He allowed himself to hope that you liked him too, and that it was your dream to be with him. Because it was his dream to be with you. He just had to stop waiting to find it and instead make it come true. But you were sound asleep at this point, cozied up next to Fred. He didn’t want to wake you up from your slumber. It could wait until tomorrow. He still had 2 days.

One Day Left

Cause you've only got one chance

You've only got one chance

It was your stirring and quiet moans that woke Fred up that morning. You were still asleep but trying to shift to get into a more comfortable position. His arm was hugging you tightly, your back pressed against his chest. He didn’t want to move from his position, but he needed to get up to finish his last full day at Hogwarts. His last day.

You groaned again, reaching your arms out to stretch and let out a loud yawn. You turned over so that your face was right next to Fred’s and you jumped when you noticed he was already awake.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he said back.

You looked so pretty lying there, hair ruffled and clothes a mess. No matter what state you were in, he always thought you were magnificent.

Kiss her you fool

You reached up to rest your hand on Fred's cheek, giggling as he leaned into the touch and shut his eyes. This was it. He could move in, close the gap between you. This might be his only chance to do so, and he couldn’t waste it.

Just as he mustered the courage to proceed, you slowly sat up. Fred sat up with you, wondering what had distracted you from the moment you were both having. He saw you looking at his shirt pocket, the one holding a piece of parchment on it. In your close embrace and drenched state last night, the water had made its way to the paper, causing it to become transparent and some words were becoming visible from the outside. A few of them being ‘escape from Hogwarts.’

In one quick moment you snatched the paper from him and moved to the other side of the couch. Your eyes hurriedly scanned the paper, not believing a word of what you were reading. Fred’s heart was racing, knowing that you were now holding the detailed plan of what was going to go down tomorrow. If only Fred could go back to the way you were moments before, clinging together with your lips seconds away from touching.

Kiss her you fool

“F-freddie,” you stuttered, still not wanting to accept that what you were reading was true. “What is this? Please tell me this is a joke, yeah it’s a joke right? You’re not actually leaving tomorrow, are you?”

Fred hesitated, dismayed that you had to learn about his plans this way. “Y/N, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh?” you asked, starting to get angry. “It’s not what it looks like? What it looks like is that you and your brother are leaving the school tomorrow for good. And you didn’t even tell me?! Do you care so little about me that you decided you could just up and leave without even saying goodbye?!”

“No, Y/N, it’s not like that!” Fred said, tears welling in his eyes. “I was going to tell you weeks ago, but I didn’t want you to be upset--”

“Weeks ago?” you nearly shouted. “You’ve been planning this for that long and you didn’t bother to at least give me a hint about it? I can’t believe you.”

“It’s not like I’m trying to hurt you!” Fred said, tears finally rolling down his cheeks. “This is our dream! George and I are finally opening the joke shop we talked about. Surely you can understand that we need to follow our dream.”

You stood up, brushing off your clothes and glaring at your best friend. “Of course I can understand. I would never stop you from following your dreams. But I thought that maybe you cared for me enough to let me in on them. But apparently I’m just another thing for you to leave behind, is that it?”

Fred was frozen, hating that he was the cause of your pain, that he was the one making you angry. The only thing he ever wanted to do was make you laugh and smile, to make you feel loved and safe. He just wanted to hold you, kiss you. To tell you that you were the most important person in the world to him.

Kiss her you fool

“I could’ve helped you!” You were tugging on the ends of your hair, hoping that this was all a dream. That Fred wasn’t really leaving. “I could’ve even gone with you! I’ve always supported your shop. I could work there with you!”

“Yeah,” Fred scoffed. “I’m not letting you give up your entire life just for me.”

“You are my life!” You were crying at this point too, tears pouring down your red cheeks. “All I want is to spend everyday with you! Fred, I love you so much, and if you didn’t even bother to tell me about your plans, then it’s quite obvious that the feelings are unrequited.”

Fred surged forward as you backed away, hoping for you to calm down and hear him out.

“No, Fred, I…” your voice shook as you continued to move. “I need to be alone right now. I’m sorry.”

You fled out of the Common Room and back to your dorm, slight sobs echoing against the walls.

Fred sunk back onto the couch, not even bothering to muffle his cries anymore. He had missed his chance. All of those times he could’ve told you how he felt and asked you to come with him, or at least asked you to be his girlfriend and wait a few months until you graduated. But he had missed his chance. There was only 1 day left, and he blew it.

Kiss her you fool

No Days Left

This was it. This was the day Fred and George had been waiting for for months. The one they had planned out meticulously, not only to escape, but to also provide Harry Potter and his friends a needed distraction for whatever they had gotten themselves into this time. There was no turning back.

Fred had locked himself in his room and cried all day yesterday, an act that obviously didn’t go unnoticed by his brother. George walked up to his twin and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Ready Fred?”

Fred took a deep breath and sighed. “Ready George. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The twins raced toward the entrance hall, hearing loud shouts and grunts behind them. A crowd started to form, many students with wide grins on their faces and, of course, Dolores Umbridge herself, looking more furious than Fred had ever seen her.

“So!” she shouted. “You think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?”

“Pretty amusing, yeah,” said Fred, confidence in his plan and abilities rising. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a figure pushing through the crowd to get a better look. It was you, eyes puffy and red, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and one of Fred’s sweaters you had stolen from him months ago. You must’ve been in bed and come running to see Fred’s final takeoff.

Fred’s attention snapped back to his inquisitors at the mention of him and his brother learning a lesson about the consequences of wrongdoing.

“You know what?” Fred asked. “I don’t think we are. George, I think we’ve outgrown full-time education.”

George beamed proudly and spoke much softer than his brother. “Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way myself.”

“Time to test our talents in the real world, d’you reckon?” He caught your eyes in the crowd, a small, pained smile gracing your lips.

“Definitely,” said George. Together they raised their wands and called for their brooms, which came rushing through the halls straight into their hands.

They jumped onto their escape vessels and did a few laps around the courtyard outside. Fred was about to yell back at Umbridge a snide remark, but he stopped when he saw you once again. He swooped down and hovered next to you, not getting off of his broom. His hand reached out to push a strand of hair behind your ear and you stepped closer to him. Fred was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t realize Umbridge was drawing nearer.

Cause you’ve only got one chance

You’ve only got one chance

“Kiss her you fool!”

George, growing impatient of the games you and Fred were playing, shouted from above. So, listening to his brother’s orders, Fred hastily pulled you toward him, sighing against your magnificent lips. It was everything he had expected and more, fireworks seeming to erupt in his stomach with every passing second your lips were on his.

Unfortunately, Fred was on borrowed time, and he darted away just in time to avoid being grabbed by Filch.

“Wait for me, will you?” he called down to you.

“I’ve only been waiting for the last 3 years,” you shouted back. “What’s a few more months?”

Fred was overflowing with happiness. The girl he was absolutely in love with was finally, after long last, his. “I love you, Y/N!”

“I know, you’re not very subtle. But I love you too.”

Fred blew you a kiss and sped up to meet his brother, grinning like an idiot as they soared off into the sunset.

“Looks like you didn’t miss your chance after all,” said George, giving Fred a soft punch to the arm.

“Yeah,” said Fred, “looks like I didn’t.”

Tag List: @famdomhideout

#abby's week of weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred #fredweasley #fredweasleyfic #fred x y/n #george weasley #hogwarts #harrypotter #fred weasley #amourtentiaa's writing challenge

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moondustis · 4 years ago

Text

remember when (m)

pairing: jaehyun + reader genre: angst, smut, soulmate!au, rich kid!au, convenience marriage!au, hurt/comfort, college!au (more details + warnings after read more) word count: 12,7k summary: A story about vulnerability and the lines we draw to avoid it. About soulmates, desires, setting yourself free. And, of course, a story about love and discovering exactly what it is. song recs: skin by mac miller and pure love by hayley williams

warnings: there are some mentions of drug use, brief mention of mental issues, bad parenting. just overall some subjects that might not be comfortable to read like i usually put on my fics but it's nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing graphics happens! disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. none of the events described are real or are an accurate representation of the people and brands named.

a/n: i would like to thank mary (neostains) for requesting this fic and cami (caiuscassiuss) for helping me with some informations about how ivy leagues work lol. this is my longest work so far, i think, and it’s a very special one. i hope you guys enjoy it!

✶

There was a time in your childhood where you remember being obsessed with princess movies. Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, name a fairytale and you would have probably watched it a couple of times, entranced by the images playing on the newest television your father had bought.

Isn’t it fucked up that young girls are always fed this stereotypical image of love? It’s like a woman is not good for anything but to love someone, to be a half until she found the other and became whole. At 8 you ate that up like no one else.

At 11 your mother hires someone to give you a talk, about how the world worked and about the weird name that would appear in your arm once you turned 18. It feels like a lecture, the woman telling you about perfect matches, the probabilities of love and soulmates in a flat tone that didn’t make you feel as excited as you did watching the fairytales you used to like. When you tell your friends at school about it, they act surprised at the way you were told and instead, tell you about the stories about meeting your true love their own parents had shared.

At 15, your mother enrolls you in preparatory school, with full theatricals about intellects and getting into the best college possible so you can do your duty as heir of your father’s company when it becomes necessary.

It takes you a while, but you realize finally that love is nothing compared to money when you see for the first time that the name on your mother's wrist is not your fathers. Not long after that, you find out that for the sake of the company, you would be marrying Jung Jaehyun, heir of the second biggest automobilistic company in the country.

At 18 you think romance and love are trivial things.

⋄

NOVEMBER, 2013

It’s a harsh winter, one that makes your hands tremble and your head hurt more than usual.

You rub at your temples as you make your way down the hallway as students pass by you at the same pace as yours to get to their next class. A dreading routine, one that is so busy it leaves you with no time to think of anything else but the essay you have to write, or the grade you have been waiting to receive.

Today, though, your headache is so intense that your mind is filled with nothing but a black void.

Despite that, you walk in small steps to your literature lecture. Your bag feels as heavy as your head and the thick wool sweater you have on is barely enough to keep you warm, legs shivering from the stupid skirt they made you wear. Knee length, of course, but still a bother to sit and move.

Fuck boarding school, is what you think as you pass a group of boys talking loudly. One of them has a Harvard pin on his cardigan, you notice in the back of your mind. It only makes you feel sicker.

The first bell rings and you realize how slow you have been really walking. A faster pace, a muttered curse and then the second bells makes you feel like your ears are melting, headache increasing. Now you’re late, a rare occurrence that will probably not affect your records in any way, but still, makes you walk faster.

It all happens very fast. You turn into the corridor that leads to your classroom but not a second later you’re bumping straight into someone, books in your hand scattering to the floor and head spinning from the impact. It’s hard keeping your balance, but the harsh grip on your forearms helps and then you’re opening your eyes, that you didn't notice you had squeezed shut in the first place.

“Fuck, I’m really sorry.” The voice is familiar but the curse feels alien on your ears. Jung Jaehyun never curses, he has manners better than that. “I’m running late and walking too fast.”

He mumbles and you almost snort at the obviousness of it all. At the fact you were literally doing the same thing. “It’s okay. I should’ve been paying more attention.” There’s no reason for either of you to be apologizing, is what you think about as your hand immediately moves to your temple again in hopes pressing on it will cease the pain.

He’s looking right at you when you finally meet his eyes. His face is painted with embarrassment, the red hue on his ears a dead giveaway. He doesn’t keep eye contact for more than five second, instead moving to pick up your books for you. “Still, I’m very sorry.” He sounds polite, as always. The curse from before is still fresh on your mind.

You had met Jung Jaehyun at the age of 9, not that you remember exactly how it went. Some random brunch where you and him sat side by side as your mothers talked about whatever was happening seven years ago. You remember your old nanny being there, and how she asked sweetly if you would like more juice. You remember missing her when she got fired three weeks later for unrelated matters that were never told to you. And that’s about it.

After that, the years passed with Jaehyun being a weird presence in your life. The rich kids ran in the same circles, that didn’t take you a long time to realize and wherever you went he was there too.

German classes at 11, the birthday party of the daughter of someone you didn't know at 12, etiquette classes at 13. An event for your father's company at 14, one of his fathers at 15 and now at 16, attending the same boarding school and having to meet each other like this, with awkward smiles and polite conversation. Because navigating a relationship you didn't know the other very well, but too well at the same time was a weird thing to do.

Jung Jaehyun was like you, but at the same time he wasn't. You were friends but at the same time merely acquaintances.

But this you remember vividly: him asking you random things at german classes and making you laugh with his awkward pronunciation. Him eating cake by your side at the birthday party, covering his lips before he asked you if you like chocolate or vanilla more. Him making fun of you quietly for dropping down your fork loudly in the middle of etiquette class. Him standing awkwardly by your side while you got reprimanded by your mother during the event, for not properly remembering the name of a lady that came to greet you, your head down as you forced yourself not to cry in front of him.

And then, his father clapping yours on the back after they talked about how lovely it would be if someday the two of you got married to join economic forces. No, not someday. When you two got married.

You, pretending he didn't exist after that day, because you realized that this too you wouldn't get to decide.

Jaehyun clears his throat, hands you your books. “How is your father?” He asks, a stupid question to ask when you're both late. A stupid question to ask, period.

You try not to grimace. “He's okay. Alive.” And then he’s chuckling lowly, awkwardly.

“That’s good, no company to run at 16 then.” He tries to joke and it's amusing, in a way that for someone else might not be. But you two are the same, at least when it comes to this.

“And hopefully never.” A stupid thing to hope for, but still he smiles at you.

Then the moment is over, the third alarm sounds and both your eyes shoot open and you’re muttering goodbyes before heading to your classes.

Your head still hurts, but you don’t feel as cold anymore.

⋄

2015

Anticipation, isn’t that just a fancier word to describe the gut feeling that something is going to happen? Worst yet when you know exactly what it is, but have no possible ways of knowing the possible outcome.

There’s a window behind your advisor, with a view to the field where the lacrosse team practices. You watch it with a lack of interest as the older lady flips through pages and more pages of what is possibly your future.

No, not possibly. Definitely your future. Because at least to this, you knew the only outcome possible.

It’s a pretty day, one that shouldn’t be spent inside a room with wood furniture and shelves and more shelves of books, that are almost as many as the certificates on the wall. Not when it also happens to be your birthday.

“This is a really good essay, ___. You have a talent with words.” Your advisor breaks the silence in a flat voice despite it being a compliment. It makes your eyes immediately refocus on her but she gives you no time yet to reply. “I am sure the admission team will read it with interest.”

“Thank you.” A polite smile reaches your lips. She was never much of a praiser, not that she needed to be. Your last name carried all the confidence you needed to have for a thing like this.

And, perhaps the interest they would be having would be exactly about that. What does the only heir of the biggest automotive company in the country have to offer for Stanford? Probably a lot, with a weight that heavy on her shoulders.

“You have started applications to only two schools, are you sure you would not like to add more?” Now she says it in a weirdly soft tone. Persuasion, because it would look good for the school that one of their best students accepted to all the ivy leagues. Your GPA would make sure of that, but that's not all.

“I don’t see the point. Stanford has always been my only choice.” You say it as nicely as possible because this is an old conversation.

“I see, well. This is it then, there's a few other students interested in attending Stanford too." She smiles bitterly, gathering the papers and putting it back on their respective folders. "But the chances of you getting in are very good. I'm sure all your hard work will pay off.”

You go to thank her but at that moment there's a pinch on your arm that leaves you distracted. It's followed by a weird burning sensation that doesn't cease when you grip it underneath the table as gently as possible. If anything, the fabric of your cardigan only makes it worse.

She bids you your goodbyes, with pleasantries exchanged but when you reach the door to leave she interrupts. “Oh, I almost forgot. Happy birthday, ____.” She smiles when you turn to thank her. “Please enjoy the rest of the day, turning 18 is very special.”

With a small bitter smile and promise to do so, you leave the room.

You reach your dorm room in no time, a stoic face on but with quick steps. And you try not to think about it, but the burning sensation on your arms continues.

It goes like this:

You close the door behind you gently, dropping your things down and immediately crumbling as you slide to the floor, unable to stand still anymore. You cry, for the second time today because birthdays were just not good. For about 10 minutes that's all that happens, your silent sobs and complete silence filling the room.

The burning in your arms stays there as a painful reminder and it tempts you to look, even though you know that the outcome didn't matter, not for you. Because behind blurry teary eyes you can see perfectly the image of your own mother's arm and the name of someone you didn't know, that she probably also didn't.

Because you are now 18 and you think romance and love are trivial things, that's all they could be.

You are now 18, and when you can't stand not knowing for another minute, you raise the sleeve of your cardigan and the name Jung Jaehyun is there on your wrist.

An ugly, incredulous laugh leaves your lips and soon turns into a sob. Of course it had to be him, you and Jung Jaehyun were tied to each other for a reason that was beyond fate.

You squeeze your eyes at the same time your hands squeeze your thighs, trying to get a grip. You calm yourself down, deep breaths in and out, your mind providing the good and the bad. No matter how you looked at it, it seemed like a trick the universe was playing on you. One, it would be worse if another name appeared, a name that you would have to pretend didn't exist, because this was just another thing you didn't have a say in. This was supposed to happen anyway, maybe it was better this way.

Then your mind provides another thought that makes your mind swirl. Jung Jaehyun had turned 18 in February, your name had appeared on his arms months ago and he didn't say a word about it to you, or to anyone for all you know. Maybe he was pretending too, maybe he wanted more time thinking that at least this he would get to choose.

Well, whatever fairytale that had been created inside stupid minds, was gone now.

⋄

The whole thing is announced two weeks later, in a gossip magazine with information from an inside source. Information that is carefully crafted from a marketing team the moment you reveal the result.

A result, like a test had been applied and you got Jung Jaehyun for whatever reason.

You exchange pleasantries the next time you see him, no trace of being too young to know the rest of your lives already. You just look at each other in maybe defeat, while your families make a toast to celebrate a wedding to take place in a few years from now. A wedding that held meaning beyond the marks that tied the two of you. Destiny just helped a little bit, it was just a good excuse to justify a marriage that had been arranged ages ago.

A month later you get accepted to Stanford, of course you do. And your mother's smile is a loud reminder of every single time she called you and inquired about every grade, every step you made to make sure this happened and that it all happened accordingly.

It doesn't take you long to find out Jaehyun got accepted there too.

⋄

AUGUST 2016

The heels of your Miu Miu boots make small stomping noises on the wood floor sounds as you walk through shelves and shelves filled with books. It’s not a loud sound, probably only perceived by your own ears, and you let it distract you as you navigate the big corridors of the Green Library.

Stanford had made your eyes shine during your first visit and then for the first months of your freshman year. The thrill of finally experiencing something new and yet undiscovered carried on until it gave space to normalcy, another routine. But this time, a feeling blossomed inside your stomach with wanting to eat it up.

A feeling that died and resurrected every now and then, but you played it safe. Navigating it with baby steps with fear of what could happen if you strained a little too far from the line. And what could that be? A magazine spread on how a famous philanthropic's daughter parties too hard in college, with pictures of you doing a line on marble countertops? A class failed and the disappointment on your mother's voice when she called you? A scandal about your night escapades? You didn’t want to find out just yet.

So you settle for your new routine, of going out every now and then with the roommates that you were about to consider friends. Pondering if it’s worth it to join another club, just to feel like there's something else that makes you feel excited. Coming to the library, studying to keep your mind busy because your thoughts were never up to no good.

And it's so easy, being busy like you always managed to, with assignments, and volunteering and maintaining a perfect GPA.

It's also easy to ignore Jung Jaehyun’s existence. Because this time, unlike in boarding school, the task is much simpler, since classes are filled with so many people that on the ones you shared with him you barely get a glance of his eyes. Because he ran around in circles that had nothing to do with yours.

It was always clear to you, since youth, that Jaehyun was a social butterfly that just needed a little pushing, and he was nice enough that people always wanted him near. A high contrast to your quietness and introverted ways, staying in small circles and almost never allowing people to get too close.

It's weird thinking about him, putting a face to the name that was forever marked on your skin as a reminder of your future. It was weird thinking that it was easy to ignore this feeling too, like all the other ones that you have kept away in your small little box. The feelings that came out at least once a year when it all became too much, and you would sit in a duvet to spill all the dead butterflies inside your stomach out on the floor of a therapy clinic.

But even like this, weirdness doesn't begin to cover the way sometimes you catch yourself thinking of a memory that involves him, random and unexpected. A moment shared before the two of you discovered what expected you, before destiny was revealed. And you don't pretend that it's not real, that you don't feel the longing and need to be close, that your skin doesn't tingle when you see him around campus. You were long past pretending now, because there was no reason to play dumb when sometimes all you had were your own thoughts to rot your brain.

What you were good at, though, was concealing it all.

Was Jaehyun good at that too? Now that's something that you think about more than you would like. It didn't help that sometimes you would bump into him out of nowhere.

You enter the marketing aisle, eyes fixed on the small numbers taped to each section in hopes that the book you need was still here. It takes you awhile to realize that there's someone else with you, only moving your head up when you hear the footsteps approaching.

“Hi.” Jaehyun says, a small smile on his lips that is as gentle as every other thing about his looks. He stands close, but not too much. A safe distance for you to run your eyes through his body one time, eyes stopping at the big ‘S’ on his sweatshirt.

You clear your throat before greeting him back. “Hello.” Your voice is low, thoughtful of your surroundings, but you match his smile in a silent agreement of politeness.

His eyes run through your face the same way yours does his. Curiosity, or maybe the longing feeling you try to not think about. The unspoken space in between the two of you is intact for now.

He has changed so much in a year, is what you always think about when you two get to see each other up close. It always made you feel a weird nostalgia, seeing a face you had known for so long but now feels a little out of reach because of your own stubbornness. Your own fears.

“What book are you looking for?” He asks after some time, making small talk.

You turn your eyes to the books, him following. “Uhm, Kotler.”

“Oh, of course. How is marketing going?” You almost laugh at his attempt to make conversation, a skill well acquired during etiquette class.

“It’s okay. Not regretting it yet.” A half lie. Maybe another thing you were keeping locked deep down, your dislike for your major. But thinking about that while having a conversation with your soulmate was far from something you wanted to do.

He hums amused, eyes still fixed on the shelf. “That's good.”

You finally find the book, leaning down to get it and hugging it to your chest as your mind searches for something to offer for your own piece of ice breaker. Then you remember seeing his face last week printed on a glossy paper, an intricate article on consumerism tendencies online besides it.

“Congrats on the publication.” You say, facing him again. It’s genuine, because you knew how things like that really mattered. Small things that were nowhere near the accomplishments expected of the two of you, but still something to be proud of.

He laughs lowly, with bashful manners of looking down to his feet and with ears turning red. “It’s just a campus magazine.” Because of course he would be humble, amongst all the other qualities you were well acquainted with. Deep down you know that it's just a reflection of the high expectations that have been set the moment he was born.

“Still, it was very well written. And everyone said it was impressive for a freshman.” Everyone being the friend that showed you the magazine, but you'll pretend for him that it was something more. To try and erase the feeling of not deserving something that probably runs through his mind.

You would crush it beneath your boots if you could, it's the weird thought that runs through yours.

He huffs. “Well, it’s Stanford. Hard to know what's gonna be impressive and what is just expected of you.”

“Good thing we are all promising young adults that don't need their egos to be fed, right?” You joke back and it makes him laugh a little too loudly, quickly stopping himself as you two exchange awkward but familiar glances with tiny smiles on your lips.

A moment of silence settles next, one that lasts only long enough for you to shift the weight from one leg to another. Then he's asking. “Are you… Are you doing something this weekend?”

“I’m expected at a company party.” You reply flatly, blinking twice but not really pondering the reasons for his curiosity. You two stare at each other for a second that passes quickly.

“The HSBC event?” He asks and you nod, expecting the words he says next. “Oh, I'll attend it as well.”

“Boring, huh?” An attempt to continue a conversation that should've ended by now.

“Yeah.” He looks at you, and then away, and then back at you. “I was thinking that we could have din-“

Footsteps interrupt his words and you look behind your shoulder to see who the newcomer is. A tall man, taller than Jaehyun even, smiles at you guiltily before he’s looking at Jaehyun and raising his brows. “We are late, dude.” He deadpans as you look between the two of them.

“Shit, I didn’t realize.” Jaehyun says in a groan, bringing his big watch to his face, and you have to contain a smile at the curse. Then he turns to you. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“It’s fine.” You mumble, the book still held tight against your chest.

He waves awkwardly as the other man throws you another smile. You watch them leave with trembling fingers.

⋄

DECEMBER 2017

December always made you feel a little weird. Blame it on the cold and the days spent in bed trying to get the warmth you craved. Or on the impending approach of winter break and having to deal with your parents and your obligations for the month to follow.

But you try not to think about that just yet, when the time comes you'll deal with it. That's what you always do. For now you let your bed swallow you as you scroll down mindless through your instagram feed, double tapping publications of past boarding school acquaintances smiling with the Harvard location attached to each picture, just like the brand names are attached to their clothes. It's a little pathetic to you that your own account looks the same, with pictures carefully picked with a marketing tactic in mind.

Your little distraction is interrupted when the door to your room opens and your roommate, Ela, walks in, clearly shivering from the cold even underneath her thick dark grey coat. “God, it's fucking freezing outside.” She mumbles as a greeting, removing her boots and setting it close to the door before draping her coat on her chair.

“How was the meeting?” You ask from under your blankets, laughing a little as she drops her things on her own bed. The question makes her sigh loudly.

“That dude is still an asshole.” The dude in question being her partner to a never ending project of rebranding that sometimes stressed even you, from how much she talked about it. “But we are almost done with it now.”

“That's good.”

She plops on her bed, across from yours and a comfortable silence settles for a moment as she probably tries to have a moment of calmness.

Ela was an old face on your life, having attended the same school but never really getting closer than knowing each other's name. Still, it was good that you got paired to dorm with her. A familiar face that became a friend of sorts, as the two of you built a relationship on things in common and the want to have someone you could trust in a new place. And she was different than you, more outgoing, had a liking for socializing that you could never match, but still understood you.

“Hey, did you finish that essay already?” She asks, turning her face to you.

“Yes, it was bitch to write.”

“And Kotler is super boring to read.” A sigh escapes her lips and you agree loudly because she's right. Sometimes, when you allowed yourself a moment of wishful thinking, you would wonder what it would be like to have a major that you didn't feel like your brain was melting from boredom when reading about.

“I'm really tired.” You reply, just to say something back.

“Same. Are you doing something for winter break?”

In your mind you know exactly what you'll be doing, a schedule even ready on your mind, but instead you say “Not really, are you?”

She hums, voice tired but still excited as she goes on about how she wants to go to Europe again, visit Amsterdam because that was one of her favorite travel destinations. When you ask how it was, she describes in perfect detail, how the streets looked and how it felt very welcoming, telling you that you absolutely had to go there someday.

You promise to go and in the back of your mind you wish you could. Maybe you can if you can do more week hours on your internship and ask for a free week.

You shake your head at that though.

“Oh, I got this little get together today. At that bar downtown.. .Do you want to go?” You know she’s asking out of politeness, not because she didn't want you there but because you rarely said yes to her invitations.

But there’s a tiny spark on your chest, one that resembles the restless feeling you would get when you stayed too long laying down. It's not a motivation as much as it is boredom and the wish to feel something other than half emptiness. Other than the want to escape.

“Ok.” You say, shrugging slightly.

“Really?”

The raise of her brow makes you laugh. “Yeah, we are getting home next week. That's the last time I get to do this for a while.”

⋄

The bar is a little crowded, with winter break approaching and no one really daring step outside for a smoke because of how cold it is. The owners took great advantage of that by offering a ‘buy two get one free’ deal, that if you take a closer look at is really just a scam considering the price. But it's enough to fool college students that are excited about being away from this place for a while.

That’s what you think about after you down the remnants of the third drink you and your roommate shared. It’s not that kind of night, of getting wasted and not remembering anything the next day. It’s more of a little get together, for your roommate's club members and you are here merely as an intruder.

You feel just a little tipsy as you listen to her friends talk, some of them you knew from afar and some were just strangers that were nice enough to make you laugh every now and then. Still, you feel detached from the conversation, smiling and nodding when needing but not really taking part.

“What about you, ___?” A girl with round cheeks and pretty eyes asks you regarding your vacation plans. “You gotta invite us if you are throwing a party.”

You scoff before you can catch yourself. Alcohol always drops your inhibitions a little, but still you are quick to cover it up. You laugh along with the others, promising to invite everyone even though you are not throwing any parties, most likely never.

You roommate looks at you from the corner of her eye, smiling sympathetically because she knows you, and knows how stupid her friends are, but it's fine. You just wish you could just take it easily, the interest, the wanting to get close so they too will appear in a gossip magazine and live the life they think you do, without wanting to tell them to get a fucking life already, because this is just pathetic.

You smile back at her, wishing for another drink as your thigh highs start to roll a little uncomfortably. Shifting from leg to leg does nothing to help it, so you try to push the little annoyance to the back of your mind.

The small groups divide in different topics over the time, and you find yourself talking to some guy you had never seen before, that goes on and on about his amazing business ideas and how successful it's going to be when he finds the right stakeholders. You nod and try to focus through the whole thing.

The rest of the night goes like that. Fake laughter, loud music and conversation that gets more boring as the clock ticks, so you find an escape excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, not because you need to but to get away for a second.

In retrospect maybe it would've been better to endure another discussion about LA clubs and entrepreneurship.

The bar is so crowded that you have to excuse yourself at least five times, and on the sixth one you end up bumping into someone.

“Oh.” Is the clever thing you say when your eyes are met with Jaehyun already looking at you, his eyes lower than usual from probably taking advantage of the drink deal like you had.

He looks relaxed, hair parted in a way that shows his forehead and an all black outfit that doesn’t look as expensive as it probably is, but he makes it work so well that you do a double look while in your hazy state. If he notices, he doesn’t show it by the way he keeps his smile unfazed at you.

“We gotta stop seeing each other by accident,” he says, laughing a little.

“Yeah.” His words take a little to digest so you keep looking at him for a beat of a second. It’s a first, seeing him in a place like this. Where you can see just how well he really can adjust to any setting. He fits right in with the low lights and the relaxed atmosphere.

“This is Johnny.” He gestures for the guy besides him, who turns his attention to you and smiles in a way that’s a little familiar. Then you realize he’s the guy from the library over a year ago, and the friend Jaehyun posted pictures every now and then on his instagram page.

“Hey, It’s nice to meet you.” Johnny says, same smile from before still on and you return it. “Have heard a lot about you.”

That makes you laugh, a mixture of confusion and excitement and politeness that confuses even yourself. “Good things I hope.”

He tilts his head playfully. “Only the best things you can hear in place like this.”

The three of you share smiles, the interaction then turning into a conversation promoted by a question you ask, both from wanting to have something to say and out of curiosity. Johnny does most of the talking, explaining how he and Jaehyun had been friends for a while but only got closer now that they are attending the same university. They share a story of something that happened, them buying each other the same thing for christmas and you listen to the whole thing entranced.

It’s weird in some way how you can learn so much from your own soulmate from someone else. And it's weird how you react with joy, perhaps, to the teasing Johnny does to Jaehyun so naturally.

When the conversation settles down, Johnny looks between the two of you for a few seconds before he’s excusing himself to find an unnamed person. It was predictable he would do that, with the way he kept aiming the conversation to make it about Jaehyun, as if he somehow had to wing his friend to you.

You stare at your shoes, unsure of what to say now and maybe too worn out from the whole night to come up with something to talk about. But you don’t have to, because soon he’s asking “Are you here alone?”

You look up, a tiny smile on your lips. “No, I came with my roommate. But she's with her friends.”

“Oh, I’ll keep you company then.” He offers and you nod, following him to the bar where it's more illuminated and you can both lean a little on the counter.

Jaehyun is good at making people feel comfortable, you had noticed that many times before and it's no surprise when he asks you about your roommate, about what songs you have been listening to lately. He tries to keep a conversation with ease, even if it stays in the usual surface you two are used to.

If you weren't so distracted by everything, your mind would probably offer that it feels a lot like when you were kids and standing in the corner of a ballroom in uncomfortable clothes, talking about things that didn't matter.

“Have you ever been to Amsterdam?” You ask him suddenly when the past topic dies down.

“Yeah, it's really nice there.”

You hum, remembering your roommate's words. “That’s cool, I really want to go there someday.”

Out of nowhere he starts laughing a little, as if you had said something funny. When you inquire about it, he shakes his head clearly amused by the way his eyes squint a little from his smile. “It's just… Don’t you think it's weird that we have known each other for all these years, and all we do is do this weird small talk?”

You laugh too, speaking before you can stop yourself. “And still for some reason I feel like I know you.”

His eyebrows raise for a second but his smile is unfaltering, your statement not bothering him. “You know me.” He says, as a matter of fact. “And I know you.”

Now this makes you freeze, blinking slowly but it doesn't last long until you are covering your surprise by chuckling. Your eyes meet his and it strikes you that it's true, you know him and he knows you. Not everything, but what would be the fun in that.

Maybe that's why the two of you kept doing this small talk, to get to know each other better even in the smallest things. That's what getting to know someone is, after all. Not the business interviews and networking you grew up with.

You shake your thoughts away, leaning on the counter with one elbow and then resting your face on your palm. “What is your favorite thing about me then?” It's what you ask, in a playful tone to keep the conversation going. Or because you actually want to know, out of curiosity or vanity.

He chuckles, bringing his hand to his face as if in deep thought, before he replies. “I like that you are smart.”

The simplicity of it makes you snort. “Please, that's a cliche thing to say in a place like this.” You say, mimicking the words his friend had said to you earlier. “What does that even mean?”

“I don't know.” He shrugs while laughing, “Johnny just says things like that sometimes.”

You nod then, making an amused sound while you turn on the counter to stare forward. Your roommate is on the opposite side of yours, leaning against a wall while talking to a girl taller than her but just as pretty. The view makes a tiny smile settle on your lips, the beginning of a spark on your chest.

It always amazed you how people who didn't know their soulmate yet continued to live on, simply letting the universe do its thing naturally. In your young mind you had always thought that love was supposed to be a yearning that you couldn't control, that you would have to be with the person you love no matter what, and do anything to find them. That had changed now.

You turn to Jaehyun again. “What would you say is your favorite thing about me then, if we didn't know each other already?” You ask. It's a weird question because it makes him raise one eyebrow at you, but there's still not a trace of annoyance on his face.

“Isn't that also cliche to say?” He huffs. “That you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen?”

You can't help the embarrassed laugh that leaves your parted lips in shock. “Are you flirting with me?”

His ear gets an incredible red shade and you find it extremely charming. “It's just the truth.” He defends himself and it only makes you giggle more.

You thank him, tell him that you think he’s pretty too and correct it to handsome when he raises one eyebrow again. It makes a nice atmosphere settle and you feel comfortable enough to ask “So... if we didn't know each other you would flirt with me at a random party? Buy me a drink and all that?”

He smiles, dimples showing while he brushes his hair back. It's not the first time, of course, but you find yourself a little in awe at how pretty he actually is. Pretty in a way that makes you feel a little out of it, stunned by the way his lips start forming his next words.

“What do you like to drink?” He asks casually.

Now it's your turn to raise one eyebrow. “Hmm, I like Moscow Mules.”

You watch as he turns to the bar, calling the waiter over and ordering two drinks of your said preference. The mixture of feelings on your chest make you feel drunker than you did before and you wish you could put a name to it. Excitement, amusement, whatever it is only increases when he looks at you again.

“I’m Jung Jaehyun, by the way.” He offers, smiling sweetly and you match it when you realize what he's playing at

“I’m _____. It's nice to meet you.”

⋄

Playing pretend with him is easy, even more when the drinks make your inhibitions fall completely. Jaehyun tells a joke and you lean forward a little. Then you talk about something and he comes closer as if to hear better. Another drink and plenty of silly conversation later, he's completely invading your space in a way that you don't feel slightly bothered by.

Not even when leans to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You leave the bar giggling like the two mildly drunk people you are, basking in the joy of it and of the little fantasy you two have created. Jaehyun keeps you close, your hands linked and it's such a nice feeling that you get even more overwhelmed in a good way. The two of you walk almost glued to each other basically skipping and muttering playfully things just to say something.

When you are near the dorm complex, he stops abruptly and when you turn to him, his hands find your cheeks and his eyes search yours for a brief moment before he’s bringing your face closer to his.

It's a sweet kiss, contrary to what you thought it would be when you allowed yourself to think about this. You had always imagined desperation, not being able to endure not doing it anymore. But the reality is that Jaehyun kisses you with delicacy and even if there is desperation to it, it's not in a way that overpowers anything else. But in a way that makes you moan lowly, makes you press him even closer by grabbing his shirt as he moves his lips slowly against yours.

There are no fireworks, no deep realization that you are kissing the person you are meant to be with for the rest of your life. But it's good, makes you want more, makes you want to bring him closer than possible, and maybe that's proof enough.

You reach his dorm in a blink after that, him having a bit of a hard time opening the door but when he does it takes no time for you to be pressed to it.

For a moment he just looks at you, eyes hazy and shining. They run through your face the same way yours does his, with longing that is finally allowed. You try to quiet the way your heart beats by leaning forward and kissing him.

The kiss is hungry but never too fast, with his hands moving to your hips and you pulling on his lips. When you moan a little at the feel, he opens his mouth a little, sliding his tongue against yours and you swear at yourself for waiting so long. Swear that you will never get enough of this.

Your lips move together in a way that is proof enough to you that this is something else even in your drunk state. His lips are soft, tongue moving with yours as if he wants to take his time and when your hands move from his shoulders to his neck he shudders, parting from you with a wet sound.

“W-We should...” He murmurs against your lip and you nod before he even finishes, letting him lead you to his bed. It feels a lot like yours, and the rest of the room is just as familiar but you pay no attention to that when he lays you on it gently.

It’s no surprise that Jaehyun is a giving lover and you figure that out when he kisses you like he wants to find out exactly what you like. Exactly how to make you fall apart in his hands.

He does everything with an expertise that maybe should make you feel jealous, but out of all things you are, a hypocrite is not one of them. So he shows you what he has learn from other people, and you show him what you have

And he doesn't settle for anything less than kissing all over your body after the two of you get undressed. For less than telling you in whispered words that he has dreamed about this before so many times and immediately swallowing with his tongue the words you would never be able to let out.

That you had dreamed about this too. Dreamed about coming on his tongue as he eats you out, your hands grabbing at his hair and seeing stars. A giving lover, of the best kind, Even more when he asks, with his mouth shining with your arousal. “How do you want it?”

You blink as your mind spins with the endless possibilities, but the ultimate realization that you would have him any way. You decide on the one that gives you more control. “I… I want to ride you.”

He bites his lips, ears burning red again. “Yeah,” His words come out mumbles as he just looks at you for a second before moving to lay on his back. “Yeah, ok. Fuck.”

You straddle his hips after he rolls down the condom, his eyes looking up at you in what you think is adoration, pure desire. And then you kiss him again, all tongue but still slow. So deep that you think you’ll never forget what he tastes like.

He lets you sink down at your own pace, palms on your ass when you move slowly, feeling him stretch you with every inch you sit on. He hums, hands tracing your skin delicately and it only makes it so much worse.

You move, a grind at first testing the water and immediately crying out lowly from the friction and you look for support with nails grabbing at his chest. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Good?” A stupid question to ask with the way you are so wet around him that the room is filled with a squelching sound when you move up and down with all the patience in the world.

Still, you nod. “You feel - Fuck - really good.”

He looks down at where you’re connected, biting his lips to suppress the noises you want him to let out so you move your hips with purpose, eyes roaming his face to watch it contort in pleasure as he lets out the prettiest moan you have ever heard. Low and deep.

His hands move further down then, gripping your hips and moving you in a grind that feels too good. So good that you have to drop your arms to his chest for leverage as he moves you to his liking, pushing your hips back and forth.

You come with your back arching, long moan of his name as your entire body shakes and tingles and you have to grip at the sheets beside you for support. You try to keep moving as your orgasm washes over you but its too much and your walls clenching around his cock makes him grip your ass even tighter, the action sending a thrill down your body as you fall forward on his chest with a wail.

Your mind swims in the gooey feeling of pleasure and all you can think about is him. Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun.

He waits for a second, hand moving to your back as your body trembles, drawing calming circles on it. When you have calmed down, he plants his feet on the bed and starts moving his hips up slowly and patiently but with deep strokes that make you bite your lip with oversensitivity.

And when you can, you move your head up, balancing yourself on your arms and looking at him. He wastes no time in kissing you, not deep because he parts his lips in a groan during a particular stroke, speeding his movements and grunting when you try to meet them back.

It’s when he has had enough, that he pulls out only to turn you on your back so he can enter you more easily, his hips now meeting yours in a pace that tells you that he’s close.

“Jae, oh… oh my god.” You sigh dreamily yet broken enough that it makes him smile when a sharp thrust makes your hips raise a little. He looks proud of being able to get you like this.

He hums as if agreeing with a very thorough statement, moving his arms so he can press his chest to yours as he fucks into you with calculated thrusts . You can barely move with his weight on top of you, with how he seems to lock you in place with his hips and it’s enough for another broken sob to fall from your lips.

“Deep?” He asks in a groan and with a nice slide of his cock inside of you to punctuate the question. You nod frantically because he’s as deep as he can get, knows this very well, and the feeling is something that makes you flutter around him in the desperate need to come.

He kisses your cheek then, two sweet but filthy enough with his heavy exhales against it. His pace never gets too fast, just hinting at it but he maintains a speed that leaves you in the brink of another orgasm. But, you only reach it when he pinches your clit with his fingers, circling it until your lips part in a silent scream and you’re coming again, stars behind your eyelids.

And the sounds he makes when your walls squeeze just a little more than he can handle are something else. A deep groan and a pained little sob that you find extremely endearing and hot at the same time, his face contorting as he quickened his pace just enough to push him over the edge, finally releasing inside the condom.

He pulls out, breath heavy as he smiles at you falling putty on the bed and watching as he removes the condom and disposes it only to come quickly to the bed quickly.

He hovers over you, kissing you sweetly. Your arms find his shoulders easily as the two of you bask in the afterglow of it.

Then he kisses you again, tongues dancing together and you don’t mind when his hand starts to wander again, sending goosebumps to your body. His fingers find your clit with ease, circling it slowly before applying more pressure as your lips part and your hand grip his arm, for support and not to cut the actions.

You come again, not as strong as your first one but still enough to have you shaking a little and screaming silently. His finger stays at your clit, hovering until he asks again in a whisper. “Another?”

You nod, and he resumes his actions slowly, until you are seeing starts and he swallows your moans with kisses and stops your trembling with soft hands grounding you.

When you recover your breath, an incredulous laughter leaves your lips. “You’re insane.” He just smiles, nose brushing against yours. “God, I...I gotta clean up now.”

He moves to get up. “Yeah sure, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

You end up cleaning together, a shower that doesn't take you long, even if it's hard to keep your hands to yourselves but you are both tired, feeling a little drained after the glow has gone away.

⋄

Afterwards, you are laying on his bed side by side, surrounded by the smell of his body wash and wearing the big t-shirt and sweatpants he offered you.

Your mind starts wandering lazily with the remnants of your high, that's why the words escape your mouth without much thought. “Isn't it weird that even if we have someone in the world meant for us we can still feel lonely?” You are not lonely right now, not really. Maybe it's just the sadness of winter speaking, or maybe you're still a little drunk.

He takes a second to reply, voice low when he does. “Yeah. But you don't have to.” He says.“ Feel lonely, I mean. You don't have to.”

It's a little funny how he feels the need to explain himself to you, as if you don't quite understand him when the reality it's both very far from that and exactly it at the same time.

“I don't think thats how it works. It's not up to me.” If it was, wouldn't you have stopped being lonely by now? Wouldn't you have finally succumbed to the desperate need of wanting someone, something, when late night hit and the mark in your arm would burn just as your eyes as you fought back tears?

Still, he says simply. “I think it is.”

You smile sadly then, turning to him a little and watching as he kept his gaze on the ceiling. He looked relaxed, as if this setting was soothing his mind and it makes a familiar feeling blossom on your chest. “What did you feel when the mark showed up on your arm?” A question that you had wanted to ask the moment you found out it was him, but instead had failed miserably to guess the answer to.

“Relief.” He says without thinking, a truthful and genuine reply.

“That you wouldn't have to end up marrying someone that wasn't your soulmate?” You ask. All these years you had thought that this must've been it, what you felt that day.

“No. I was relieved that it was you anyway.” Is his reply, body turning and eyes meeting yours. For a second you’re frozen, blinking because it’s strange to have someone put their feelings out so easily.

“Is… Is that what love is, then?” You ask softly. “Relief that you have at least one person that makes you feel held?”

Maybe this is not really what he meant, and more so wishful thinking of your part than anything else, but still he nods.

“I think it’s that. And other things.” His voice is soft when he says this. “I'm not sure what it is, but I want to find out.”

You can’t help as you examine his face after his confession. Is this what being soulmates is, then? Having someone that it's worth taking the risk of finding out? Or maybe it’s having someone that will show you exactly what it is.

Does all that explain the way you can't look away from him?

“Me neither.” You reply in the same quiet voice because it’s true. You tend to act like you know everything, and that you know what love is. You know love it’s pathetic and that it gets in the way of things, but is it really that bad? So you ask “Is it bad that I think you'll only love me because the mark on your arm tells you to?”

He laughs briefly. “No, it makes sense.” His eyes find yours again. “But you know it’s not, don't you?”

“I do.” At least you do now.

Maybe that's why you fall asleep so easily

⋄

2014 (flashback)

It’s the last day before summer break and Jaehyun is tired.

The other four guys he shared a room with are all packing their things for a nice vacation somewhere in Europe or one of the paradisiac beaches they all like to talk about. Jaehyun just wants to get home, not think about college applications for two months and maybe go somewhere he can be alone for a while.

“Sooyoung is kinda hot, huh?” Yugyeom says out of nowhere and the room settles in a unison hum of agreement. He joins in too.

There’s a loud creak noise as another one of his roommates slumps into the bed but he doesn't bother checking who it is, mind somewhere else as he stares at the ceiling.

“True. But I would die if Ela gave me her number.” Jungkook sighs dreamily and Jaehyun can't help the snort that escapes his lips. Just yesterday they had a conversation exactly like this one, but not quite as innocent. Trust a group of men that have no idea who their roommates are to act like this.

Even though Doyoung, the only one of them that already knew, still acted the same when it came to this. His soulmate isn't someone he knew already, so what was the point in waiting. That's why he asks the next question. “Jaehyun, you know ___, right? Does she stick to the whole ‘waiting’ thing?”

Jaehyun blinks, shifts almost unnoticeable. “I don't know her like that.” Is what he says, which is a half true. He knows her, probably things no one else knows but that’s what happens when you grow up in the same circles, he guesses. Right now though, he feels like he doesn’t know her anymore, not with the distance she had put between them after the wedding was announced by your parents.

Then, he starts thinking about himself. Is he waiting for his soulmate? He has kissed some girls, but it never went beyond that. But now he remembers coming home from german class one day and his mother making soft cake as she told him about the name that would appear on his wrist.

He remembers that he had said loudly that he wished ____ would be his name, because then they could be better friends for some reason as silly as playing around together.

Sicheng interrupts his thoughts by snorting loudly. “Are you really trying to hit?” He asks Doyoung. “Gonna end up in the cover of a magazine for trying to corrupt the nation’s good girl.”

The room erupts in laughter and comments after that. He drowns it with his mind going somewhere else.

That night he dreams about her.

⋄

10, FEBRUARY 2018

Winter break goes by quickly with one too many end of the year celebration and wishing people you had never seen before a happy new year.

You spend your days fulfilling your internship at the company you would one day own, following around the superiors for the Marketing team and playing nice when they try to flatter you.

So busy that you can barely think about it, but you still do. You think about him so often that you think you have lost your mind. And you see Jung Jaehyun too, here and there at parties, between whiskey glasses, tuxedos and unspoken words. Because, as you always thought, keeping it all unsaid is easier. At least for now.

Perhaps he knows it all, in a different way than you. So the two of you kept it lowkey, for the duration of those two months that are now gone with the wind. Two months of not a single magazine spread on your escapades, or you parents mentioning anything that is out of the ordinary.

It's as if the two of you have a secret, that some may assume, but still don't know for sure. What you and Jaehyun did that night is kept inside a locked box, one that you share with him and that every moment until now seems to fit in. What you don't know is if he too keeps the box as sacred as you do.

What you don't know is if the thought of it being opened by prying eyes scares him too.

Being back to campus is, ironically, a breath of fresh air. No more business meetings disguised as family celebrations, or stupid networking, or smiling for a camera to say that the company has never been better. No more internship and lack of time for something else.

February comes and it's just you, your dorm bed and the roommate you will miss when it's time. Just the lectures and keeping busy and trying not to think about things only to fail miserably.

But then, there are the phone calls, never ending and always the same. Or almost always.

The phone lights up, stupid ringtone, and your heart starts beating a little faster. How could someone ever guess what a phone call is about? Not having control made you antsy.

Your mother greets you as always, stern words, asking how you have been out of politeness. You spend the entire phone call waiting for her to just say what she wants to already.

She mentions being busy, good opportunities, of an article you should read and something that sounds like a threat if you let yourself slip and get a scandal, even though she has said all this not long ago after gifting you another piece of jewelry you’ll keep stored deep in your drawer.

At least this time it doesn't take long for her to finally say what she wants. “Jaehyun’s birthday is soon. Don't forget to greet him.”

“I won't.” You reply simply but she’s quick to cut you off.

“Publicly. Maybe sending flowers would be good, or buying something that can get attention from the press.” It’s obvious this is not about you and your soulmate, it’s about you and your future. As everything is.

“Ok.”

“Just because he's your soulmate doesn't mean people will connect you two together forever.” She continues, never knowing when to stop. “You have to remind them of that.”

“I know that.” Because you do. There was no guarantee that your marriage with Jaehyun would be good publicity if the two of you weren’t liked or even popular.

You fear that when the time comes, people will realize something you yourself already has. That maybe you don’t really deserve Jaehyun, not because he’s better than you, but because you are not sure you can give him the love he deserves.

What you don't know clearly yet, is that you’re selfish and want him anyway.

“Good.” Your mother says and then the line cuts.

One time a therapist told you that maybe your mother was jealous. Because you would get to experience something she didn't, being with your soulmate, and that it was normal. It didn't mean she was evil and hated you. Another one said that that was the reason she was so stern, she wanted to keep you in line to prevent you from failure so as to not hurt you. That, behind the lack of affection, was a wish for your happiness.

Maybe there will be a time you understand that plenty. Maybe some things can never be truly fixed, only forgotten.

Four days days after that, you text Jaehyun a simple happy birthday with a heart at the end of it. You also get a chocolate cake sent to his place from a bakery you like, and when he calls to thank you, you tell him to not post it anywhere.

He laughs and tells you that it's a good idea.

⋄

2007 (flashback)

It was another late afternoon party, for another thing that you couldn’t remember or care about because things like this shouldn't really matter when you are only ten years old. Still, you had watched the other kids play with each other as their parents talked business and laughed, drunk from the bubbly drinks they downed glass after glass of.

For a moment you felt like reaching out and playing with them too, but it died soon and you stayed unmoving on the chair you had been placed in, while your parents did the same as the others somewhere in the distance.

It had been a pretty day, you remember, the sun was about to set and it made the shiny fabric on the tablecloths that were spread around the individual tables set outside, sparkle just the tiniest bit. You played with it to have something to distract yourself with.

You remember too, that Jung Jaehyun and his family were at the table right in front of yours, your parents greeting each other and talking briefly. Later on the party you had watched as he listened to something his mother said to him. She was beautiful, like your own mother, and you had heard her voice before so it had been easy to imagine in what tone she was speaking. Soft and low, how warmth felt like. As to the content of her words you would never know, but it had clearly been something nice because it made her son laugh as she patted his head.

You didn’t know back then that this moment would stick with you for the years to come, for a reason that at ten years old you were just beginning to understand. But still, the weird twist in your stomach, as you started to realize that something was wrong, would be felt many more times. As you realized that your family dynamics were not as warm as the others appeared to be.

⋄

25, FEBRUARY 2018

What you and Jaehyun have turns into something hard to describe.

The line you had so clearly put between the two of you, to avoid your future, had been replaced now by acceptance and the weird feeling of navigating a relationship that It’s still a new thing, but it’s also nice enough. Especially when he sends you a silly text and jokes about something, later on commenting the same thing on one of your instagram posts. It makes you feel giddy, that you have a shared secret.

Even more when he gives you a small knowing smile across the table while your father is non stop talking about the new model the company is about to release.

It’s a small dinner to celebrate Jaehyun’s birthday, or at least as small it can be in a restaurant like this, where the waiter will look you up and down if you are not wearing your prettiest silk dress and stiletto heels.

The whole thing had been rescheduled twice, because of busy schedules and whatnot, and now that both your parents had been able to fly here, you all sit underneath lowlights and drink expensive wine that is accompanied by a conversation that is so boring that you have trouble keeping up with it.

He finds you on the rooftop, hair blowing a little as he walks to you and in the back of your mind you think it’s a crime that he looks this good in a suit. That’s probably all the wine you had talking.

“Sorry I left you alone there.” You mutter with a sympathetic smile thrown his way when he reaches you, but you both know you are not sorry at all for escaping the stupid conversation your parents were having.

He chuckles. “You leaving was just a reason for me to escape too.”

The two of you turn to look at the city, the illuminated buildings looking minuscule from here but the tiny lights from each of them make for a breathtaking view. Jaehyun stands so close to you that your arms touch. You don’t mind.

“Looking at the city like that makes me feel really small.” You whisper, without really thinking.

“That’s because we are.” You hear his voice clearly, warm like honey and you don’t try to help the smile that forms in your lips.

“How do you do it?” The question makes him look at you, raising one eyebrow. “I mean, you always sound like you got it all figured out. While I just say the most random stuff because I don’t know who I am.”

You know you are the heritage left to you, the face of your father's company, a good student, smart. One of the few socialites that have never stepped a foot out of line, according to the magazines. But take all that and what’s left?

“I don't.” He says simply, “I’m just good at pretending, like you are.”

That makes you laugh. “Good to know we are both good at playing our roles.” You say, as a joke, because you are sure the two of you are beyond the acting now.

And It’s always funny to you how the masks the both of you put on fall completely when you are alone. That’s what it means to be friends, you had realized, and that’s what you decide to call your relationship for now. Friends, from a long time, that happened to be tied together for other reasons.

And Jaehyun is a friend that sometimes makes you feel like you deserve the love you crave.

“Hey. You are ____.” He says after a second, for good measure. “That's enough, you don't have to be anything else.”

“Is it enough for you?” You ask without really thinking.

He smiles, dimples showing and your heart grows warmer. “Yeah, and we can figure it out together. Who we are and all that.”

You share a smile, both staring forward at the view and shivering a little from the night wind.

“I’m sorry for getting you into these deep conversations.”

He laughs deeply at that, with his whole body. “It’s good, don’t worry. I want you to trust me, even if you won't let me get to know you.” And you do, you want to desperately trust him and let him in. ”Because you are scared I can't handle your daddy issues or something.”

A scoff mixed with laughter leaves your lips. It’s been a long time since you were able to joke about this with someone. “It’s mommy issues, please get it right.”

He turns to you with a silly smile on his lips. “Is it because she made you take those piano classes?” He jokes and you laugh before tilting your head.

“Wait, how did you know I played the piano?” That was ages ago, finally a hobby that you enjoyed amongst the numerous other classes your mother had enrolled you in. You played it for a long time before you stopped completely for whatever reason.

“You told me, when we had to introduce ourselves and talk about things we liked in german class.” He explains. “You said you liked it, even though your mother forced you to go.”

You turn to him now as it strikes you that Jung Jaehyun remembered you from his childhood the same way you remembered him. Not the same things, but still memories. The thought is so comforting that you can’t hold the way your cheeks move up in a smile.

“What about you?” You question. “What things did you say you liked?”

“Hmm, I don't really remember.” Is what he says with a shrug.

You two share a look, perhaps meaningful but maybe that's the wine making you feel on cloud 9 under his gaze. “What do you like now?”

He chuckles as if your interest is amusing. “I like… music, getting coffee with friends. That kind of thing.”

“Not cars?” You joke, making him laugh. You decide then that you like making him do it.

“I mean, a little.” He replies playfully, and it’s very easy to be comfortable like this.

It’s good to know after all this time Jaehyun was like you, even if you felt alone in the world sometimes. That’s what a soulmate must be after all, not the missing piece to make you whole but someone that makes you realize exactly that you don't have to be.

“We should get coffee together sometime.” You offer after some time, a gentle smile being shared between you two in laziness, at the thought of soon having to return to the restaurant and popping out of the bubble you have started creating for yourself.

“We should.” He says, and the bubble stays afloat a little longer.

⋄

JULY 2019

It’s another charity Gala, with sparkly lights, champagne, fake smiles and a dress too tight. Everything is the way it always had been, except for you.

And Jaehyun, whose hand stays on your waist as he guides you through a slow song. He had wanted to dance, said he always thought it was nice when lovers did it in movies.

Lovers. The mere use of the word had made your heart somersault in your chest, but you kept it down. Instead, you move with him with soft smiles adorning both of your faces.

Your hand finds his cheeks. Nothing could describe the look you give him in the light but pure admiration. And you don’t care if anyone sees it, you don’t care if it ends up in a magazine spread. Because even if everybody knew about it, this is yours.

The way he brings his hand on top of yours, and how his eyes match the exact look on yours. Every little detail about it makes you know that this right here belongs to the two of you and nothing can change it.

“Jaehyun?” Your voice is low, almost inaudible underneath the music and conversation echoing through the ballroom. “I don't want to be here anymore.”

His eyebrows raise at your confession, steps faltering for a second as he loses the rhythm “What? We can leave right now if you want.” He offers. “I came with my own car, so we can-“

Your soft laughter interrupts his words. “No, I don't mean right now.” You explain, swallowing around your next words. “I meant.. I don't want to keep playing a role, I want to go somewhere with you where no one knows us.”

A smile grows on his lips, one that tells you that he understands exactly what you mean. And you don’t have to guess anymore, there are no more maybes. You know.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He pulls you closer, dance now long forgotten as you just move in complete muscle memory.

“I want to find out.” You confess in a whisper. A secret between the two of you that no one else would ever know. “I want to go somewhere with you and find out.”

You wonder if he already found the answer to it, to what love is. But you also don't need to know right now, because you will know when you have to. Either way you want to find out and it's not for you to guess.

He smiles genuinely at you, with his dimples showing, like he always smiles at you.

You smile back, heart aching from something that can only be only be explained by years of shared stories, and in your mind, deeper connections that go beyond what everything and everyone inside this ballroom would understand.

You smile back, in the exact way you have always smiled at him.

⋄

APRIL 2020

A ray of sun peeks from the half closed curtains and set right above your eyes, getting you to wake up lazily and slowly. It takes you a while to come to it, the sheets on the bed just now starting to feel truly familiar with the warmth left on the bed, from someone that had probably gotten up just a little before from you.

You blink once and twice before your eyes are completely open, vision still unfocused but it slowly comes back as you stare at the bedside table. A lip balm is the first thing you see, then your phone and lastly a picture framed of you and Jaehyun hugging in front of the sunflower field at the Van Gogh museum. He’s laughing, at something said by the kind fellow tourist that had offered to take your picture, and you have the beginning of a smile on your own lips. One that you mimic perfectly now as you remember that day.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the door opening and Jaehyun walks in the bedroom, holding a bowl. His eyes are still drowsy and his hair a mess but you think he looks right at home. Because he is.

“Morning, baby.” His voice is low and raspy, but enough to make you melt even more on the sheets.

“Good morning.” The smile settles fully on your lips now.

He sits on the bed next to you then, almost drowning inside his large t-shirt and hair plopping cutely when he tries moving even closer to place the bowl with sliced fruits on your lap. “We gotta add apples to the shopping list.” Is all he says and you nod while picking a slice of melon and chewing it leisurely as you bask on the hazy feeling of still being half asleep

Jaehyun stays by your side, head weirdly pressed to your chest, and asking silently for you to feed him apple slices every now and then with just his mouth opening.

Your mind wanders as you eat and then you’re having one of those moments where realization dawns on you finally. A silly small thing that makes you smile and your chest grow warm. “Jaehyun?” You call out softly, fighting back the bubble of happiness that forms on your chest because old habits are hard to die.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, eyes blinking at you in the same way he always does, but this time it makes you want to cry a little bit.

You lean down, press a quick peck to his lips that make you both smile and then the words are out of your mouth.

“This is what love is.”

#here she is!#cant wait to hear what you guys think about it #works #commission #neowritingsnet #nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenario

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 14

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“It was so good to see you, Will,” Valerie says in a muffled voice against his chest as he has her wrapped up tightly in a bear hug.

“I know, I’m so glad I ran into you,” Mulder replies, brushing his hands over her back. He pulls away and kisses her softly on the cheek.

“It makes me really happy to see you so happy,” she says with a smile, her long brunette hair lifting softly in the breeze, brown eyes holding affection that can only be held between two people who have the type of bond that can withstand a breakup and then a transition from lovers to friends.

“Likewise,” he says, nodding towards the small swell of her growing belly.

“I’d love to meet your girlfriend someday, if you think she’d be okay with that,” she says, collecting her purse.

“Yes, I’d really like that. I think you two would get along really well, actually,” he says, and she smirks at him.

“You’re not afraid we’ll bond over having to sit through your shitty movie collection?” she teases, and he laughs good-naturedly.

“Hey, Scully likes my shitty movies, that’s why we’re a perfect match,” he retorts.

She squeezes his arm.

“Call me sometime, okay?”

He nods and watches her walk away, feeling like he’s on cloud nine. A great friendship with his ex-girlfriend, a promising new love with the woman of his dreams; he can only imagine what lies in store next. He practically skips on the walk back to his car, wondering if Scully might let him come by tonight, hoping that he won’t have to wait until the weekend to see her again. He decides to call her as soon as he gets home.

The first few times he gets her machine, he assumes she must be at her mother’s. When she still hasn’t answered or called back by 9:00 pm, he’s confused. When he emails her the next morning and still hasn’t gotten a response at 10:00am, he’s officially worried.

Something is wrong.

———

She had eventually turned off the ringer on her phone and put the volume all the way down on her answering machine so she wouldn’t have to hear his increasingly obsessive attempts to get ahold of her, then slept fitfully all night.

She knows that she needs to give him some kind of response or he’ll show up on her doorstep, but she can’t bring herself to face him, even in voice. Every time the image of him with that woman pops back into her head, she feels a lump form in her throat immediately, a sick sadness welling in her belly. She’s pored over every memory in her mind, every interaction they’ve had, searching for signs. Signs that he was seeing someone else, that he wasn’t interested in anything other than getting in her pants, that he was lying to her. Her thorough inventory brings up next to nothing, which almost makes it worse; how adept he must have been at creating a false reality for her to exist in. Perhaps he’s garnered some tips from the sociopaths he studies, or maybe his background in psychology allowed him to manipulate her.

When she arrives at work, she is unsurprised though still dismayed to see an email waiting for her.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5, 1997 7:57 am

To: [email protected]

Subject: Where are you?

Scully, you’re freaking me out. Are you okay? Please respond.

She deletes it immediately and tries to focus on work. She performs an autopsy and teaches a class, both welcome distractions from her emotional torment. Just before 11:00 am, the phone rings.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy…yep, she’s here, one second.”

Trudy turns and opens her mouth to speak, but sees Dana waving her arms and shaking her head. She makes a confused face and puts the phone back to her ear.

“Oh, actually she just stepped out, sorry. Can I take a message?”

She watches as Trudy scribbles something on a piece of paper.

“Uh huh…yes. Okay, I’ll tell her…you have my word.”

She replaces the phone on the receiver and hands Dana the paper with a sympathetic frown.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asks rhetorically.

Dana looks down and deciphers Trudy’s messy scrawl.

Call Mulder immediately. Send a sign of life.

She crumples it up and tosses it into the trash can.

“You wanna talk about it?” Trudy asks.

“Nope,” Dana replies, turning back to the computer.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:03am

To: [email protected]

Subject: PLEASE RESPOND

Scully, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but if you don’t reply to this within an hour I’m driving down there.

Please respond

She feels fresh tears well in her eyes. Why is he trying so hard if he’s seeing someone else anyway? Why is he doing this to her? With a surge of anger, she hits reply.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:05am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:PLEASE RESPOND

I’m fine, Mulder. Please just give me some space.

With that she closes her email, begs someone to take her second class of the day, and goes home.

———

He feels like he’s stepped into an alternate universe. He’d left her happy and satisfied, and out of nowhere she’s shutting him out. What does she need space for? Space from him? Why? Did he come on too strong and freak her out? He thought they’d moved past that. He picks up the phone again.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy.”

“Trudy, it’s Agent Mulder again. Look, I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but is Dana there?”

She pauses. “No, she went home for the day. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Do you have any idea why?” he implores.

“No, other than the fact that it seems to be directed at you.”

“Yeah, that much I gathered. Thanks, Trudy, sorry to bother you.”

“No worries, good luck.”

He slams the phone down, grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and leaves.

———

She is half expecting his knock, but it still makes her jump, nearly causing her to spill her wine. She wants to just ignore him until he goes away, but she knows his proclivity towards persistence won’t let him do that. Better to just get it over with, she thinks as she slumps towards the door.

The second she lays eyes on him in his slacks and dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie discarded, she feels her chin pucker and tears threaten her eyes. As angry as she is, she immediately wants to go to him, to curl up within his embrace so he can comfort her. The problem is, what she needs comforting from is him.

“What is going on?” he says with a mix of frustration and fear.

She stands in the open doorway, not making space for him to enter.

“I saw you,” she says, her voice strained with emotion.

“You saw me...what?” he asks, his face a mask of confusion.

She lifts her chin, clenching her jaw and summoning strength.

“I saw you with her. Yesterday, at the Bluebird Cafe. After I had lunch with my family.” her voice holds steady, anger carrying her through.

His face falls and her gut twists. She wishes she didn’t have to watch this.

“THAT is what this is about?” he asks, but there’s no shame or regret in his voice. If anything, he sounds a little mad.

She nods curtly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spits out, and she recoils a little at his vitriol. “Let me in, Scully. Right now,” he demands, and against her better judgement she moves aside.

He pushes past her into the apartment and she closes the door softly, leaving it unlocked in case either of them decides to make a hasty exit.

“Did you consider,” he begins, his back to her, “maybe, I don’t know, asking me about what you saw?” He turns to face her, one hand on his hip and his face contorted with anger. “Or were you just planning to avoid me until I gave up and went away again?”

She doesn’t know what to say. She’s confused about why he’s yelling at her when he’s the one who did something wrong. She just looks at him, expressionless.

He juts his chin out expectantly, waiting for an answer, but gets none. She averts her eyes.

“Is that all this is worth to you, Scully?” he continues, “you’re ready to throw this away over a simple misunderstanding, without even talking to me?”

She lifts her head and looks at him with a pained expression. “Okay then, talk,” she gets out.

He drops his head in frustration. “The woman you saw me with,” he says flatly, lifting his head to meet her eye, “was my ex-girlfriend, Valerie. I ran into her while I was running errands yesterday, and we had lunch. She has a boyfriend and is three months pregnant. We spent the majority of our meal together talking about you.”

She shakes her head gently, her throat closing as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I saw you kiss her,” she whispers, her jaw quivering.

“You saw me kiss her on the cheek? I also kiss my mother on the cheek, Scully, it’s hardly an intimate gesture.”

She feels a new wave of sickness pass over her, but this time it’s entirely different. This time it’s the sick feeling of realizing that she was very, very, wrong, and that she has, yet again, hurt the man who loves her. She opens her mouth to speak but she can’t find the right words.

He steps forward but doesn’t touch her. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more defeated than anything else.

“I’m sorry that you saw something that upset you. But if you actually thought for a single second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I meant what I said the day you left my apartment last year. I felt it then, and I feel it now. I want this to work more than anything, Scully, but for that to be possible you have to trust me. I can’t live with the knowledge that you might just shut me out at a moment’s notice when you get scared.”

She keeps her head down, overwhelmed by a combination of shame, embarrassment, and gratitude that he wouldn’t let her walk away. She does not deserve this man, but she wants to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, still unable to meet his eye.

“I know you are,” he replies, moving towards the door. “Take the space you need, and let me know when you’re ready to trust me.”

When she hears the click of the door closing behind him, she collapses to the floor, sobbing for so many reasons she couldn’t possibly name them all. When it’s faded to snivels and hiccups, she stands and goes to the hallway, picking up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Missy,” she chokes out, “Can you come over?”

———

He’s not sure if leaving was the right thing to do. The risk that she might not come back around is one that sends his stomach into knots, but at the same time he finds it hard to accept that she wasn’t even going to give him the opportunity to explain. He’s been actively working to temper expressing his feelings so he doesn’t overwhelm her, but then she gets it in her head that he’s not invested. It feels like he can’t win.

He goes back to work and stops by Kirkbride’s office to apologize for disappearing. Kirkbride just gives him a quizzical look, clearly not having noticed he had left. The rest of the day he buckles down on his caseload, distracting himself from the catastrophic thoughts that dance through his head, and gets more work done than he has in quite a while. When he leaves the office just after 5:00 pm, he feels melancholy and grouchy, and annoyed that he left the ball in her court.

The elevator dings to announce his arrival on the fourth floor and he steps out with a takeout bag in his hand, eyes downcast. Halfway down the hall, he readies his key and looks up, startling when he sees Scully sitting on the floor against his door, knees tucked up against her chest and her forehead resting on her kneecaps. She’s very still, and as he gets closer he realizes that she’s asleep. His heart aches knowing that she’s been waiting that long, that she didn’t want to leave without talking to him.

He crouches down beside her, setting his dinner on the floor, and gently touches her shoulder. She jerks, her head snapping up and her eyes wild for a moment while she tries to orient herself. When she focuses on him, she immediately starts crying, reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck. He’s surprised by her uncharacteristically emotional response, but says nothing and just holds her until his knees start to ache, at which point he sits down on the floor and pulls her into his lap. They stay this way for several minutes, long enough for one of his neighbors to walk by and politely avert their eyes, entering their apartment as though there was nothing out of the ordinary happening in the hallway. When the crying seems to have subsided a bit, he gives her a little squeeze.

“Wanna go inside?” he asks, and she nods against his chest, his shirt damp from her tears.

She stands unsteadily and he follows her, grabbing the takeout bag off the floor. They enter the apartment and Priscilla plods up to them with an excited meow. Scully leans down and picks her up, tucking the cat against her neck as they nuzzle each other. Mulder smiles at them with a bemused expression.

“She was talking to me through the door,” Scully says with a small smile, “she heard me knocking and was meowing from the other side. We had a conversation.”

Affection swells in his chest and he steps forward to kiss her. Her shoulders drop and she lets Priscilla down so she can get closer, threading her arms around his waist and kissing him back in earnest. Desperate, thought I’d lost you again kisses that are as arousing as they are a relief, because he knows that they will be okay.

He pulls back a little and she makes a whimpering sound in protest.

“I’m gonna go change really quick, okay? Then can we talk?” he asks, and she sighs and nods. “You can have half my Chinese,” he adds, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

When he sits on the couch beside her five minutes later, she scoots closer so they are pressed against each other, and he gathers that she needs physical closeness right now. He loops an arm around her shoulder and she crawls right back into his lap, curled against him as though trying to fuse her body to his own. Her head tucked beneath his chin, she holds one of his hands in her lap, fingers laced tightly together, and begins to speak.

“After you left, Missy came over and we talked for a long time. I’ve come to realize how much I’m still affected by...what happened last year. I harbor a lot of guilt for being unfaithful to Ethan, and that’s actually largely why I married him even though I knew my heart wasn’t in it.” She pulls in a deep breath, pressing their joined hands tight against her belly, trying to get even closer. “When you and I reconnected, in a way it felt like a chance to validate it. As though things working out with us would mean that what I did wasn’t as bad, because there was something real between us. But at the same time, a big part of me doesn’t believe that I deserve to be happy.” Her voice remains steady, but he feels the wet drop of a tear on the back of his hand.

He tightens his arm around her waist. “I’ve always been a person who values doing the right thing, and integrity was something that was very important to my father. It was his measure of a person’s character, and that’s something he instilled in me as well.” She sits up a bit so she can look at him, and his heart breaks at her red-rimmed eyes, her icy irises so mournful. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mulder. You haven’t given me any reason not to. It’s just that I don’t feel like I deserve this, especially with you, and I’m waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down. So when I saw you with that woman, it was almost like I’d been waiting for it, expecting it. Getting what I deserved.”

He brings his palms to her cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says softly. “I wish I could change how you feel, but I know that I can’t. I do know how it feels to spend your life harboring guilt over something you could have done differently, and I can tell you that punishing yourself won’t make it any easier. It makes me really sad that you’ll always regret how we met.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head gently. When she opens them, her expression is more tender than it is mournful.

“I don’t regret it, Mulder. I do feel guilt, and shame, for not ending it with Ethan so we could have done things the right way, but I could never regret meeting you.”

He pulls her back into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his ribcage, and plants a kiss to the top of her head.

“Are we okay?” he asks softly.

“I hope so,” she says hoarsely.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that Valerie wants to meet you sometime?” he asks, and she laughs.

“I don’t know, did you tell her that I freaked out on you because you had lunch with her?” she replies, and he can already hear her tone shifting back to their typical lighthearted banter.

“No, of course not. That’ll be our little secret. Well, plus Trudy. I think Trudy knows too much honestly.”

She laughs again, and god he could spend the rest of his life trying to make her laugh. In fact, that’s exactly what he hopes to do.

“Speaking of meeting people,” she continues, “Missy mentioned you to my mother yesterday and she wants to meet you.”

A grin stretches across his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. She pulls back to look at his face, to gauge his reaction, and smiles softly in response.

“You want me to meet your mom?” he asks, the delight on his face carrying over to his voice.

Her mouth screws up shyly. “My little brother will probably be there too, and Missy. Is that too much?”

He shakes his head. “Sounds perfect. But, there are some friends I’d like you to meet too, if we’re meeting people.”

“The Lone Gunmen?” she asks with a skeptical lilt.

“Those are the ones. They’re my only friends, actually. Aside from Val.” Just then, Priscilla hops up onto the couch beside them. “Oh, and you Priscilla, sorry,” he adds.

Scully smiles at the cat, and then at him. “Can I bring Missy as a human buffer?” she asks hopefully.

“Of course. You may set a record for the highest number of female visitors to their lair in a day.”

“Lair?” she asks with wide eyes.

He chuckles. “They’ll grow on you, I promise.”

#the x files #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #txf #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 3 years ago

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JATP ROUND THREE FICS!

We received fourteen (14!!!!) fics for Round Three of the JATP Event! These fics are full of that sweet, sweet canonverse goodness that we can’t get enough of, but with our signature TROPED twist! We loved to see you all challenge yourselves with the theme, tropes, and pairings!

Please try to read as many fics as you can! Take some notes, leave some kudos/comments for the authors, and help us vote on the winners!

Voting will be open until May 29th at 11:59pm EST! Vote here:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/BZ3W5FT

———

Just say you won't let go (Rated G) [Julie/Luke]

Summary: Hey, Julie

You're the heart and soul 'round here, it's plain to see

in which Julie has a second chance with her boys, and then another

we will fight to shine together (bright forever) (Rated G) [Bright Lighting Guy/Rob from the Orpheum]

Summary: “Hey,” Chris says, walking up to the boy. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he puts the dandelions down and stands up. “Hi. I’m trying to make a flower crown, but I don’t remember how.”

“Cool. I’m Chris, I live--” he points to his house. “Over there.”

The boy gives him a lopsided smile. “I’m Rob. I’m staying with my grandparents for the summer.”

or: the rob/bright lighting guy fic literally nobody asked for but i wrote anyways. enjoy gays, bring ur tissues

what happened when (Rated G) [Alex/Luke]

Summary: Before Julie and the Phantoms, before the guys became ghosts, before Sunset Curve -- they were Luke and Alex. Not 5 feet apart cause they're totally gay.

who cares if one more light goes out? (in a sky of a million stars) (Rated T) [Ray/Rose]

Summary: Rose moves in across the street when he’s eight and she is seven. Their parents push for them to play together, because that’s what parents do. They’re not wrong about it though. The two of them get on like a house on fire and some of his happiest memories from his childhood are just him and Rose, sitting in the large oak tree behind their houses. Hidden up in the branches, between the millions of dark green leaves, they played together.

or: The first and the last time Ray ever kissed Rose.

we can forget the world (just you and me) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie]

Summary: “This was the first place I ever came out to someone,” Alex says, spinning around and taking in the tree house.

together we can take on the world (Rated G) [Alex/Reggie]

Summary: Alex Mercer meets Reggie Peters on October 8, 1983, which means that two days have passed since Reggie's sixth birthday, because Reggie is a Libra according to the magazines that his mom reads when she gets Reggie to paint her toenails. He’s also just moved to Los Angeles, California from his hometown of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, a small town in the mountains, and he’s told Alex Mercer about all of this in the three minutes that they’ve known each other, and he might be the loudest, most obnoxious boy that Alex has ever met, and he absolutely has to be Alex’s new best friend.

The Peters family moves in down the street from the Mercers in 1983, and so begins the rest of their lives.

Long Live (Can I start another life with you?) (Rated T) [Julie/Luke]

Summary: It's all too much for one day: first a muffin, then more heartbeats. Julie just needs some time to think. If Luke runs after her to sit by her side so she doesn't lose it, she won't complain.

Except afterwards, he starts acting weird. Very weird. And months later, she's tired of letting him keep his distance.

She can’t do this. Not right now. Not today.

She jumps back on her feet.

The excited grin falls from Luke’s face. She doesn’t try to catch it.

“I – I think this is too much. I need some time. Alone. Sorry.”

Then she runs. She runs past the calloused fingers reaching out to her. Past Reggie and the door, past carved pumpkins on porches and Cornelia Street.

She just runs.

Roses (Rated G) [Emily & Luke, Alex/Luke]

Summary: It becomes a sacred place she shares with her son. Mitch is usually off at work from dawn until six o’clock, but Emily’s working from home for now. She works as a florist’s shop right outside the neighborhood. So she brings home seeds and little flowers and other cuts from the store; she and Luke will spend hours out in the dirt, planting seeds and making mud pies and Luke will babble about whatever happened in daycare and make up stories about the different flowers.

Somewhere Only We Know (Rated T) [Nick/Carrie]

Summary: Nick Danforth-Evans met Julie Molina when he was six years old. He had no idea how much an impact that afternoon would have on his life.

___

A journey through Nick Danforth-Evan's life as experienced in the safety of his backyard hide away.

The Itty Bitty Details (Rated T) [Alex/Willie]

Summary: “Did I forget to mention William, I also get your soul,”

Willie could feel a stinging feeling and a purple stamp appeared on his hand. When the stamp appeared he could no longer remember who Alex was. The name meant nothing to Willie now.

Or 5 times Willie knew Alex and one where Alex knew Willie

you're the only one who makes me (my wildflower) (Rated T) [Bobby/Reggie]

Summary: The tree was Reggie's safe space, and Bobby was his safe person. He could escape all his troubles there, except for one nagging thought - did he have feelings for his best friend?

Dying complicated things.

because i've known you so long, i know every cadence and what they mean (Rated G) [Alex & Julie, Julie/Luke]

Summary: Alex and Julie have always lived right next to each other. Through highs and lows, they grow up together. Also, 5 times Luke kisses Julie and it doesn't count plus 1 time Julie kisses Luke and it does count.

Alternatively, the Juke 5+1 fic from Alex's POV. Strap in, folks.

Someday (I'll See You Again) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie]

Summary: They’re wrong. Alex, you are not a failure. You’re incredible. You’re smart. You’re funny, and the best friend I could ask for. You’re a wicked talented drummer and you have a beautiful voice. And more important than all of that, is that you’re you, Alex. And the you you are is wonderful, and lovable and perfect. If your parents can’t see that, that’s their own fault. But I swear, Alex. If you’re afraid of them, I need you to tell me. You have to be safe.” Willie’s voice had gone desperate by the end. Alex deserved to know how freaking amazing he was and the fact that his parents didn’t bother to tell him, and actively worked to tear him down instead, was infuriating.

But Willie also worried about him. He’d worried about Alex since the first time he heard Mr. Mercer shouting through the window, a worry that never really went away. Not with the way Alex automatically straightened up when his parents were mentioned, as if he could hear his dad lecturing him about appearances from miles away. Not with the way Alex looked when he was with them, perfectly pieced together and falling apart at the seams, eyes distant and shoulders tense. Willie was pretty sure he had worrying about Alex etched in his bones by this point.

The Energy Never Dies (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: Well, I ain't always right, but I've never been wrong

Seldom turns out the way it does in a song

Once in a while, you get shown the light

In the strangest of places if you look at it right

--- Scarlet Begonias, Grateful Dead

Four moments across time in the loft of the Molina's garage.

#troped: jatp #round 3: canonverse #jatp fanfiction #round 3 submissions #round 3 voting #troped: voting

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preciseprose · 4 years ago

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From Nightmares to Dreams (Part 1/3)

Fandom: The Owl House

Chapter synopsis: Luz has a horrible morning which Amity helps remedy.

Author’s note: This fic is the first long-form work of fiction I have written in five years and would not have been possible without the encouragement and support of @sterling-jay. This fic was inspired, however, by @notbirdofprey who asked me: “How do you think Luz and Amity will get together?” Please be aware that my answer to this question involves a lot of angst on both Luz’s and Amity’s part; and, as a result, this fic is relatively angsty. I hope you enjoy it.

- - -

Luz jolted awake, feeling dizzy and uncomfortably warm. She threw her blanket off her and sat up to rub her face. It was slick with some sort of wetness. “Oh,” she groaned. She must have been crying in her sleep. Again.

Suddenly aware of herself, she looked down at her feet. King wasn’t there and her door was closed. He must had left at some point during the night. She laid back down. “At least he didn’t see me this time,” she said quietly.

She prodded around her cot for her phone, finding it after a few moments. She sniffled and wiped her eyes again before powering the phone up. The right-top corner of her lock screen stated the obvious: “No Service.” After hesitating for a few seconds, she opened her messages.

She spent a few minutes reading through old conversations with her mom. It didn’t make her feel better. If anything, it made her feel guilty. Her mother’s messages were caring and warm. She asked if she was having a good evening, if she liked that day’s camp activities, if she was enjoying the food, if she was looking forwards to tomorrow, and so on. In contrast, Luz’s replies were generally short and impersonal. A lot of yeahs, yeps, and nopes. An occasional emoji. Few genuine responses.

She put her phone down and looked up to the ceiling. Even with the moonlight streaming in from her window, it was hard to make the beams out. After a few minutes of holding back, she let herself cry.

“I’m sorry, Mami. I’m sorry I can’t tell you that I’m okay. I’m sorry I can’t tell you that I’m safe. That I’m not missing. That I didn’t run away.” Her tears grew heavier. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I’m making you worry. I’m sorry for being a bad daughter. You’ve always tried to be a good mom and you don’t deserve this.”

Luz cried until her eyes burned. When she destroyed the teleporter door, she had thought Eda might be able to send her home using magic or by taking her to some special place on the isles. But several weeks ago, Eda had sat down with her on the roof of the Owl House and explained the gravity of her situation: that the door was the only way she knew of to travel between the human realm and the demon realm, and that without the ability to cast spells she wasn’t sure if she would be able to send her home.

She had only barely stopped herself from breaking down. It helped that Eda had taken her hands and, looking directly into her eyes, promised that she would do everything in her power to try to return her home someday. And she had kept that promise so far, spending several hours every other day pouring over books with Lilith.

She wished Eda’s promise was enough to keep her fears under control, but it just wasn't. She kept a decent face up when around Eda and her friends. But when she was by herself, she couldn’t keep the act up. The idea that she might never see her mother again was overwhelming and terrifying. But even worse was the possibility that her mother might think that she disappeared on purpose.

Eventually, her eyes ran dry. Dawn broke soon after.

“I guess I should get up,” she thought. After a few minutes of sniffling and wiping her eyes, she rose from her cot, activated a few light glyphs, and dressed herself. Once done, a realization hit her: “My eyes! Crying makes your eyes puffy, right?”

The closest mirror was in the bathroom down the hall, but she couldn’t risk running into Lilith or King. If she ran into either of them, they would ask questions, and Eda would find out and start worrying about her again, and she didn’t want that. “What do I do? What do I do?” Luz repeated to herself.

She activated another light glyph to help her think. The light reflected off a small object lying nestled in the blanket on her cot. Her phone. “My phone!” she exclaimed in a hushed voice. She walked over to her cot, snatched her phone, and unlocked it with a swipe.

“Okay, how bad could it be?” She opened the front-facing camera. Her stomach clenched.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and it looked like someone had filed the skin under her eyes with abomination goo. “No, no, no, no, no. This is bad, this is so bad.” She pulled and pushed at the fleshy mounds trying to get them to recede. Her attempts did nothing.

The morning sun was already starting to brighten. She needed to act fast. She would need to leave for Hexside within the hour and there was no way she could avoid everyone on her way out. “What do I do? What do I do!”

Luz had no idea how to do anything involving her face. She had never been very interested in make-up and even she had been she didn’t think she could just slap some concealer on her face (not that she had any) and call it a day. She needed help, fast.

“Okay, okay.” She looked to the phone in her hand. “No that’s not going to help, I don’t have service here.” She tossed the phone on her cot and started pacing around the room. Muffled sounds began to emanate through her bedroom walls. The other residents of the Owl House were out of their rooms.

“Oh, I know!” Luz ran over to her school bag and dredged out the small scroll Eda had given her for her birthday. “Penstagram!” She tapped on the scroll and it bounced out of her hand and into the air, unfurled and glowing faintly purple. She grabbed it, thinking about her next move.

“I can’t ask Gus or Willow for help,” Luz thought, grimacing. They were already worried about her enough. Just yesterday, Willow had pressed her about why she had been especially quiet lately. It took their entire walk home to convince her that she was just stressed about homework and helping Eda learn glyph magic.

She didn’t think she could ask Viney or Skara for help either. She had gotten to know each girl better through classes at Hexside, but she didn’t really know either of them that well. And this was a bit too personal to spring on either of them.

That left Amity.

Luz blinked and took a long breath. She had been spending more and more time with Amity lately. On one of her better days last week, she had convinced Eda to let her, Amity, Gus, and Willow to have a “Azura Movie Night Sleepover Extravaganza!” at the Owl House after Eda found a DVD player in a trash worm. She and Amity had ended up cuddling on the couch under a blanket. And it felt so nice.

Amity was warm, and soft, and her hair smelt like wildflowers and sea salt, and Luz had been terrified that her heart was going to jab through her chest and explode on Amity’s back. But eventually, somehow, she managed to fall asleep with her in her arms. But when she woke up, Amity had already dressed in her day clothes and was eating breakfast with Eda. Every time she had tried to talk to her since then Amity had kept the conversation short or turned her head away and said she had something she needed to do or gave some other reason to leave quickly. Luz didn’t know what to think of it.

But that was then, and this was now. Luz had no one else to turn too, and out of all her friends she figured Amity would be the most likely to know how to deal with her situation. She pulled up Amity’s profile and sent a DM.

@glyphwitch (07:03:51): Amity I need your help!!! IT’S URGENT!!!!

@witchchick128 (07:04:27): Luz, what is it? Are you okay?

@glyphwitch (07:05:11): I don’t have time to explain but I need to get rid of these HUGE bags I have under my eyes (don’t ask please) and I have no idea how to deal with them but I need eda to not find out about them and I don’t know what to do and I thought you might and I just don’t want to worry eda about me so please help me

Luz snaped a picture of her face to Amity and dropped herself onto her cot. One minute passed. Luz heard Eda and Lilith having some sort of argument in the kitchen. They were constantly arguing about one thing or another these days. Another minute passed. The argument was now a three-way shouting match between Eda, Lilith, and Hooty. Based solely on volume, Hooty was winning.

Suddenly, the scroll vibrated against her leg. She snatched it up and tapped it. Again, it sprang to life.

@witchchick128 (07:08:34): I’m so sorry, Luz. Mother pulled me away for a tuft of my hair...

@witchchick128 (07:09:13): So, are they like that because of a magical or non-magical cause?

@witchchick128 (07:09:32): You eyes, I mean. Sorry, I wasn’t clear.

@witchchick128 (07:09:43): Your*

Luz laughed despite her situation.

@glyphwitch (07:10:12): non-magical

@glyphwitch (07:10:39): I was, uhhh. crying. a lot… but I’m okay now! really

@witchchick128 (07:11:16): Okay. Do you have any abrasion ointment from the Healing Coven?

@glyphwitch (07:11:42): no. I can’t leave my room or the others might see me

@witchchick128 (07:12:15): Alright. Let me think.

@witchchick128 (07:12:58): You haven’t discovered any glyphs that cast any illusion spells yet, right?

@glyphwitch (07:13:09): no, not yet

@witchchick128 (07:13:41): Okay, so you can’t conceal your eyes with magic. But I’ve seen you summon columns of ice before. Can you use your glyphs to make a bunch of small ice cubes?

@glyphwitch (07:13:53): yeah, I think so

@witchchick128 (07:14:38): Okay, do that. Then get two of your shirts and use them to make two cold compresses. Hold them under your eyes for five minutes. It should make the swelling disappear. If anyone asks you why your eyes are red, just tell them you were up late reading and only got a few hours of sleep.

@glyphwitch (07:14:56): oh my god, thank you Amity!!!

@glyphwitch (07:15:09): you're the best!

Luz shoved the scroll in her bag, then pulled out a pencil and piece of paper and got to work. After a few-second’s thought, she drew a moderately-sized plant glyph surrounded by three inter-connected tiny ice glyphs. She activated the ice glyphs first, creating three tall but slender pillars of ice. Then, concentrating her intent into her hand, she activated the plant glyph. A thick vine with several stems emerged from the paper and wrapped its tendrils around each ice pillar, crushing them into small pieces.

“Yes, it worked!” she said joyfully, impressed with herself. “What next? Oh right, the shirts.” She dashed over to her dirty clothes pile, grabbed the two least objectionable shirts visible, then dashed back over to her cot. Working quickly, she made two compresses using the ice littering the floor, lied back on her cot, and pressed the compresses onto her eyes.

A minute passed without interruption. Then Luz heard her door handle jiggle, followed by a quiet thud. She heard it a second time, and then a third. The fourth time she understood. King was trying to open the door. Before she could call out, she heard a solid impact with the door, followed by a metallic click and a final small thud.

The door began to open. “Luz, get up! It’s almost time for…”

Acting on pure instinct she streaked out of bed and flew against the door, slamming it shut and screaming, “King, don’t come in! I’m naked!” As she spoke, she heard something hard impact the wall across the hall.

“Ow! Jeez, I get it! Gross! How was I supposed to know!?” King shouted through the door. “I get that you wanted to protect me from a potentially scarring experience, but did you have to slam the door so hard? I can feel my brain spinning around inside of my skull! All I wanted to tell you was that breakfast is almost ready! Sheesh!”

“Sorry, King! I’m uh, just. Really self-conscious! I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She paused and looked behind her. In her panic, she had strewn ice everywhere. She rolled her eyes, sighed, and looked back to the door. “I woke up a little late, okay? I still need to get ready. I’ll be down in like ten minutes.”

“Ten whole minutes! Really!?”

“Yes, really! And if you keep talking to me it’s going to take me even longer!”

“Ugh, fine. Whatever, just hurry up, will you? I’m starving and Lilith cooked today so breakfast actually looks good for once!”

She heard his little footsteps trod away. When she was certain he was gone she locked the door and got to work reassembling the cold compresses.

#the owl house #toh #luz noceda #amity blight #lumity #toh king #my fic #from nightmares to dreams #long post

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trillgutterbug · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Questions!

tagged by @palamedessextus 😊 thanks friend!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

64! only five more to the magic number ayyyyy and then i’m legally obligated to never post another one.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

289,575 apparently??? which seems way way way higher than i ever would have guessed, wow. who knew!

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

31 on ao3, although that’s lumping, eg, all marvel subfandoms together. but i have a ridiculous amount of wips in all kinds of other fandoms that i haven’t/won’t post, soooo.... more than that! and i don’t want to list them all bc that’d be a long boring read!

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

it serenely disdains to destroy us, a magnus archives fic that, i somewhat vainly note, has been orbiting in the top few top kudosed fics in the tag since i posted it womp womp.

concerning flight, because we all thirsty for thor/loki+gender and i for one support us.

untitled porny snippet (yes that’s actually what it’s called), because same as above. (i see u, kudos-to-comment ratio and i aint mad but.... i see u. all you dirty birds out there shamefully yet silently jerking it. kudos to YOU.)

an experiment in posthumous subsistence, a batman/joker zombie au i wrote fucking TEN YEARS AGO ALMOST. why???? why is this fic so popular?? i’m barely a good writer now and i sure as shit wasn’t one a decade ago! the terrible title alone should disqualify it from being read, but i guess the people want what they want. and what they want is batman and joker handcuffed together, trying to escape the zombie apocalypse ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

all good things, some stucky hydra trash party-adjacent smut regarding piercings. i stand by this one 100%, it deserves every kudo(s?) tbh.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i do, depending on the comment! i don’t think comments like “loved this!” / “thanks for writing!” are written with the intent to receive a response (or at least, when i write them on other people’s fics, i certainly don’t expect one). they’re like an extra kudo(s?), and i appreciate them a lot, but they’re not really an invitation to Discuss. whereas if someone clearly has put a lot of thought into a comment, or asked a question, or made some observations that i jive with, or just seems like they want to engage, then hell yeah i jump in there. love that shit.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

i guess arguably thine own self, which is some hydra husbands abo. laugh all you want, it’s one of my fave of all my fics lmao. probably specifically bc of the unpleasant/open ending.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

probably moderation is a memory! since it, unlike 99% of all my other stuff, isn’t just total smut, and the whole point of writing it was to wallow as deep as possible in the sauce of giddy teenage infatuation, it got the opportunity to have an actual emotional arc (more or less). furthermore i could not possibly bring myself to break johnny lawrence’s tender little heart ever, that would hurt me far more than it would hurt him.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

i only realised while answering this question that apparently.... no i don’t write crossovers! which is not at all a deliberate choice, i guess a compelling enough one just hasn’t occurred to me yet!

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

shockingly no! by some accidental miracle i’ve managed to fly under the radar so far, despite some of the really buckwild stuff i’ve posted. however, considering some of the stuff i’m probably ABOUT to post.... that clean track record might soon come to an end lmao.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

lmao. uhhhh. almost exclusively, and i guess??? all kinds? this is clearly a question composed by someone who does not write smut.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of, and i wouldn’t really care if i did.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

yeah i think a few....? a number of people have asked anyway and i always say yes, so probably there’s at least one floating around out there somewhere.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have! just once, and we really made it count. it’s called a reptile dysfunction, which should tell you all you need to know.

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

thorki, probably. i always have and always will come back to it, no matter what. it’s got such a ferociously timeless staying power and so much potential variation, i don’t think i could ever get bored of it, regardless of what level of marvel-exhaustion i might feel at a given time, or what tropes, kinks, or stage of literary pretension i’m at. truly the oh tee pee.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

ohhhhh all 836575927 of them, but. there’s this one thorki fic i started almost ten years ago as an experiment with a new-to-me style, which turned out over the intervening years to become my main style, and looking back on that fic, which for many years was a touchstone of writing-to-aspire to for me, it’s actually Not Very Good lol. but i still love the core concept, which is a canon divergence berserker thor au, but not only is it a somewhat inaccessible (admittedly less so since the deadpool movies came out, which was a hilarious pipe dream back when i started writing it) x-force comics crossover, but i wrote myself into a bunch of corners and have yet to dig up the energy to write myself back out of them! i go and reread it every year or so and think “hmm... maybe now...” but tbh it’s just not really good enough to bother! perhaps someday i’ll repurpose the best elements of it into something new.

16) What are your writing strengths?

man, it’s so hard to say. in much the same way that you can spend hours every day staring at yourself in a mirror, yet be utterly incapable of picking yourself out of a lineup, i spend a lot of time eyeballing my writing, but stepping back it seems like a chaotic mass of nonsense with few cohesive throughlines. i’m good at writing smut, i know that much! and in that vein, i think i am good at smut bc i am very good at committing to the bit, as it were. getting into the nitty gritty of experience and sensation (physical or emotional) and rendering largely abstract internal concepts in fairly comprehensible ways. i think my prose is quite decent on a sentence level too.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

utterly incapable of finishing anything! or plotting anything! can’t mange a cohesive emotional arc! write myself into overly structured corners or out onto a vast plain with no structure in sight! all the macro elements of storytelling totally elude me, which is very frustrating when i have all this tasty fleshed out micro-level character stuff, but no narrative skeleton upon which to drape it.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? don’t! unless you are very sure you know what you’re doing, and the other language bits are a) very few, b) easily contextually understood, and c) actually adding something other than a weird flex that you know google translate exists.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

11yo me wrote spock/kirk/janice rand and thought she invented the concept of a threesome. brand been stronk since day one 🤘. (the vulcan salute is right next to the devil horns in my emoji list, so....)

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

i love the (ongoing) better with you series very much, not least because i’m still absolutely flabbergasted that i wrote something that long. i think it’s actually pretty good all things considered and it’s very dear to me on many many levels. but the fic that i just viscerally adore, that i love the style of, and that i had such a transcendent, invigorating, organic Experience writing, is temper its strength, adding honey until quite cold, which is a terror fic with the inexplicable pairing of edward little/hartnell, featuring crossdressing and gender stuff. it just burst out of me fully formed one day and i don’t think i’ve managed to top it yet!

lowkey tagging @lingua-mortua @pitcherplant @kaasknot @froggy-babyy @deputychairman @nomercyonlytears @clockheartedcrocodile

#writing meme #whoops it's 3:30am #excellent life choices courtesy of: yours truly

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whumpwriterforlife · 3 years ago

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Tagged by @garbria, thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

25 works! 22 for Final Fantasy XV, 2 for MacGyver (2016), and 1 for Prodigal Son.

2. What is your total AO3 word count?

77,159!

Was not expecting that much to be honest. Of that, 64,680 is from this year alone!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3: FFXV, MacGyver (2016), and Prodigal Son.

If we also count fics that haven't been posted and don't even exist anymore, I have also written for Star Trek AOS, NCIS: LA, Star Wars (Jedi: Fallen Order) and Devil May Cry. I think that covers most of them at least? Maybe? Probably.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

In the first place is Late Night Call, my first (and only) Prodigal Son fic by 176 kudos! This surprises me, if I'm being honest. I don't think it's my best work, but apparently people like it! And the Prodigal Son fandom, at least back then, was simply amazing.

H is for Home Invasion (MacGyver) takes the second place with 166 kudos! This doesn't surprise me as much, considering it's an older fic and the MacGyver fandom loves its whump.

We have Wall Garden in the third place with 104 kudos. It's the very first FFXV fic I posted in May this year! Also my first fic to be pure fluff.

Fourth place is taken by BTHB - Impaled Hand by 84 kudos! This was one of my first whumpy FFXV fics featuring Prompto!

And last but not least, we have Of Bioweapons and Hallways in the fifth place with 78 kudos! It's my other MacGyver fic.

The next in the list would have been my on going Winter Sun fic, so I wouldn't be surprised if it still rises to the top 5 at some point in the future.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! Or at least try to! Comments are one of the absolute best parts about sharing my work with the world. They make me smile and have me jumping around the house like a child on sugar high XD I want to at least try to show people how much their comments mean to me.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hmm... I think almost all of my fics have mostly happy, or at least hopeful endings. There's one that comes to mind that kind of stops on a cliffhanger and implies both angst and whump, and that's BTHB - Kidnapped. Maybe I'll someday continue it.

7) Do you ever write crossovers?

I'm open to the idea of writing crossovers, but I haven't actually written them before. At least not that I can remember. 🤔

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don't think I have? There have been a few weird comments, but not outright hate, and hopefully there won't ever be. I'm so unsure about my writing at the best of times that a hateful comment would most likely crush me, lol.

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do not! I'm not saying I ever won't, as I have actually written one or two lines of it at some point, but I don't see myself writing a whole smut piece and posting it anytime soon.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. I hope not.

11) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have helped some people with their fics, but I've not really co-written anything with anyone. The closest thing would most likely be A Bee-tiful Day(To Bee or Not to Bee-sting) from @garbria. I helped with a few paragraphs, but that's all.

12) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I'm not all that big on shipping (which feels like a weird thing to say when more than half of my FFXV fics are CorNyx). I prefer platonic relationships over romantic ones, but I would most likely go with CorNyx if I had to choose.

13) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Posted fic: MacGyver (2016)

Not posted: Either the OG MacGyver or NCIS: LA

14) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Hmmm, this is a difficult question. I have a vague memory that I answered this one in some ask game some time ago but I'm not sure?

Maybe BTHB - Prisoner Exchange? It's the fic of mine that I've gone back to read the most. I can't really explain why it's my favorite, but I just like it.

I would like to tag @whumperscorner and @ceterisparibus116! No pressure though, if you'd rather not, that's totally fine!

#ask games #garbria #writing #asks answered

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elexica · 4 years ago

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Last Chance Christmas - Chapter 1 {{December 20}}

In honor of the season, I’m pointing my fic Second Chance Christmas on Ao3, and cross posting here! Summary: The radio had droned on about an incoming polar vortex. How could the weatherman have known that his ex-husband would be on the plane? - - - Following an acrimonious divorce, Joey and Kaiba have managed to co-parent the kids without seeing each other for three years. After Kaiba is caught in a blizzard, Joey is forced to spend the holiday with his ex-husband, and confront certain feelings that he thought were dead. Tags: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto, Kaiba Seto, Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler, Tenjouin Fubuki | Atticus Rhodes, Tenjouin Asuka | Alexis Rhodes, Getting Back Together, Post-Divorce, Reconciliation, Family Fluff, Family Feels, Family Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Christmas Romance, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, rekindling relaitonship, Christmas Angst, No infidelity!, AU-gust 2020, ygocollablove

Other notes: Kaiba and Joey were married and have two children – Alexis and Attius (from GX, but you do not need to see GX). This is a get-together-again fic. The divorce was not amicable, but no cheating/infidelity. They’re about 40 in the fic, in honor of them being 40 in 2020 if they were 15 in 1995. Joey is half-American, and his mom and Serenity live in New York, too.

Chapter one under the read more!

The sleet fell heavily against the car, turning the view through the windshield into an impressionist painting of abstract asphalt and splotchy red break lights. The drives to the private airport in Westchester were always the worst. Even though Kaiba rarely accompanied the kids on the flight from Japan, even the haunting proximity to the shiny private jets and the trappings of his ex put Joey on edge. Not because he longed to be driving the expensive cars parked in the lot or any other petty envy, but because the whole place always reeked of Kaiba’s ghost. How the man could haunt the freeways and tangled overpasses from thousands of miles away was yet another unsettling superpower of his ex-husband.

The sleet, the traffic, and the eerie nature of the drive allowed frustrated ruminations to wind their way into Joey’s head. Like the suction cups on the edges of an octopus’s tentacles, little doubts and regrets clung to his mind.

Was it petty to fly the kids back and forth from Japan in the dead of winter for only a week? Yes, of course it was. But the custody arrangement hadn’t even demanded that Joey allow that week. The kids were in school in New York, and it was his year to spend Christmas with them. They spent the full summer break in Japan every year. It was Joey’s only time of year—and even then, only every other year—where they all could spend time off together. He didn’t want to give it up without a fight. And Joey was still a fighter.

When Mokuba had announced his wedding date for the first week of the kids’ Winter break, Joey was so tempted to force some other concession out of Kaiba. Joey had been invited as well, but the thought of attending turned his stomach something fierce. He could see it in his minds’ eye: watching his family, his children, and his closest friends, dressed to the nines, celebrating something so pure. And him, looking at the ruins of the most significant relationship of his life. It felt like a mockery, to stand there and watch Mokuba enter a beautiful marriage while he stewed in the wreckage of his own. Plus, Joey’s self-destructive streak was supposed to have died with his relationship.

So, what remained was that precious promise: every other winter break. And this one was his. Sure, his ex-husband was one of the greatest negotiators in the business world, but Joey had thrilled, just a little, and with more than a little guilt, at the thought of bringing him to his knees over this. The opening was his to take.

He hadn’t quite calculated all the way out—indeed, the long game was Seto’s specialty. And once Atticus had been informed that he would be both a performer at his uncle’s wedding reception, it was game over for Joey.

Of course, that was so Kaiba, ever on the offensive, always flipping the script. Stuck negotiating over Christmas and coming to this frustrating solution. He was a cruel rival and a bitter adversary. An altogether dreadful ex-husband.

Weaponizing Atticus’s precious enthusiasm was a perfect move. Which left Joey messing with the logistics and driving in this awful weather.

. . .

The radio had droned on about an incoming polar vortex. How could the weatherman have known that his ex-husband would be on the plane?

Joey hadn’t noticed him at first—he was too busy catching Atticus’s tackle hug, and patting Alexis gently on the head. All that warmth and love had blinded him to the frigid bastard standing at the other side of the gate.

But one his heart was full again, the primal part of Joey’s brain was triggered. Like he could sense the predator lurking, he looked up and saw those stupidly long limbs. He’d know that silhouette from a mile away. “What’re you doin’ here?” Joey shouted. It was so reflexive that he forgot to hide the vitriol from the kids.

Kaiba stalked over slowly, as if he was trying to take too long, waste all of Joey’s time. “Waiting on my return flight plan,” Kaiba said. His voice had gotten more gravelly over the years, but his cadence remained almost robotic.

“Alexis was scared of flying home in the storm!” Atticus laughed, still embracing his father. “And she said the only way she’d fly back was if Oto-san promised he’d pilot! It was so cool dad! Did you know he could fly planes?!”

Joey forced his mouth into a pinched smile. “I did know that. That was very nice of him.”

Kaiba looked at him. “The children anticipated being in New York for Christmas. I am still a man of my word.” Joey wondered if he was tired from the 14 hour flight—he certainly didn’t look any worse for wear.

Frankly, he didn’t look much different than the last time he had seen him, three years before. He was still unfairly trim and perfectly composed. The only noticeable changes were the introduction of a few grey hairs, scattered among the deep brown and a pair of wire-frame glasses that looked like he’d always had them. His black turtleneck was as clean and tight fitting against the prominent muscles of his shoulders and chest as it had been. His dark jeans were still the same stupid level of tight that looked a little like he hadn’t realized he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Between the black Armani loafers and black Burberry trench, he looked like he was about to return to a casual Friday in the Financial District and get drinks at the most expensive bar he could find.

Joey had not anticipated seeing anyone other than his kids, and maybe Isono, and felt instantly exposed. Without the pressure of having to be Kaiba’s arm candy at events, Joey had put on a fair amount of weight, and settled into something of a dad-bod. He was wearing his comfiest jeans and a puffy winter coat. The worst part was the recognition in Kaiba’s eyes—it was the same coat he’d had when they were living together, only more faded and a little tattered at the edges and unzipped. It revealed a shirt that he’d acquired as a volunteer at a concert-fundraiser for Atticus’s youth orchestra. It was an unnecessarily bright green, mercifully faded by the washing machine. His white chunky sneakers looked just like ones he had in high school—and only a little less scuffed up. Overall, the look was one meant for a quick trip to the grocery store, and the last thing he’d wanted be wearing to see his ex-husband for the first time in years. Joey braced for some comment to that effect.

“Well, I’m glad they’re here. We should get going, after all—how many days are there until Christmas?” Joey asked Alexis.

“Five!” She announced.

“Yep! And the tree isn’t even up yet!” Joey said, in mock shock, and smiled at the kids’ surprised faces.

While Atticus was bemoaning how much crucial Christmas celebrating needed to be done in the next five days, a member of the airport staff approached Kaiba. Kaiba stepped away to discuss the flight plan, but Joey kept an ear out. It’s not eavesdropping if it’s your ex-husband, after all.

“Mr. Kaiba, this airport is being closed, effective immediately. The entire metropolitan area is bracing for a significant blizzard, and you are absolutely not cleared to fly.”

Joey couldn’t make out his husband’s harsh whispers, but relished in how they were tinged with a light panic. At least the bastard was freaking out a little. It felt nicer than he would ever admit to know that he made his terrifying ex-husband a little scared.

“Mr. Kaiba, we cannot permit that. I will personally be turning off all lights on the runway and not approving any plans that you submit. It could not possibly be worth dying to avoid spending a few days in New York.”

“That is not your determination to make!” Kaiba’s voice was slightly heated, which was another signal that Joey had gotten to him.

“I’m sorry sir. You are a valued customer, but it would be deadly for you to depart at this time, and I refuse to be a part of such a flight plan. As soon as I can permit take-off, I will personally contact you.”

With that terse statement, the administrator marched off.

Kaiba stared at the ground with a combination of fury and focus. After a few terse breaths, he whipped out his phone and began tapping away.

Joey was about to tell the kids to say Goodbye Oto-san! But deep down, Joey had done the math too.

“Dad, is Oto-san going to be able to stay with us for Christmas?” Alexis said, looking up with pleading eyes. “Like we’re a family again?”

Alexis was smart as hell, and even at age six was a master of strategy. Someday, Joey thought, she’ll be devastatingly skilled at Duel Monsters. Today, she was inconveniently cunning.

“It depends on what arrangements he wants to make,” Joey deflected, hating that an offer slipped through the cracks.

Kaiba looked up from his phone. For a second, he did look a bit tired from the flight. From his life. It was humanizing, and Joey tried to discard it.

“I could stay in a hotel in Manhattan, and visit,” Kaiba proposed, grip on the phone like a vice.

“That’s not what families do…” Alexis whined.

Kaiba’s jaw clenched. Joey was familiar with this face—Kaiba was acutely aware of his compromised position. It felt like they’d never finished the dreaded conversation. The energy that hung in the air was the same as that trite explanation of divorce.

It still was sickening when Atticus echoed the conversation from three years prior. “We’re still a family, Lexi. But Dad and Oto-san can’t stay in the same house anymore because it isn’t—”

It was too much, and Joey couldn’t help himself, “Of course your Oto-san can spend Christmas at the house. If that’s what he wants.”

“If I’m cleared to fly back to Domino sooner, of course I should return to work,” Kaiba answered the unspoken question, and trailed the group back to the car. Atticus was already sharing stories of how well his performance at the wedding had gone.

. . .

The house was a nice house—large enough, with a pretty backyard and a pool in a good neighborhood. It had more expansive grounds when they had been together, but the family didn’t even use the stables or tennis courts, and Joey had sold them off to people who would actually enjoy them. Kaiba had forced his hand when it came to the mortgage and upkeep, but other than the house and the kids’ schooling expenses, Joey had refused any formal alimony.

At the time, Joey had thought it was a brilliant plan. If Kaiba really wanted to value his work over all else, then he would have to suffer through watching all of that effort not change a damn thing for his family. Joey refused to be truly dependent, fifteen years of the golden handcuffs had been more than enough.

Now it was a little embarrassing that the house hadn’t changed a bit more. Since Kaiba had been gone, more of the children’s artwork graced the ornate walls. No interior decorators had been hired, so any new pieces of furniture clashed with the pre-existing scheme. It looked more lived-in, and Joey tried to take some pride in that.

Kaiba was examining a particularly poor crayon representation of the Red Eyes Black Dragon. The scale was completely off: the face was much too big and the eyes bulged grotesquely.

“Don’t say anything mean,” Joey whispered harshly at Kaiba. He was shocked when Kaiba obeyed him. “Now, who wants hot chocolate?” Joey offered, and the kids practically cheered. Atticus was en route to the kitchen already. “Seto, could you start a fire in the living room?”

Kaiba nodded, turning towards the room from perfect memory.

The milk was quickly heated, and the cocoa mix dissolved like magic, swirling into a pleasant warm desert within minutes. Joey had wondered if Kaiba would come into the kitchen to join the family, but he remained in the living room. The kids ran off to the playroom to mess with whatever new game Yugi had sent them home with.

In the soft lighting of the warm fire, Kaiba looked frustratingly, devastatingly, untouched by time. In brighter lights the fine webbing under his eyes and frustrated crease between his brows brought attention to forty years of an overburdened life.

But instead the fire burned away the years. With his glasses stowed away, he looked like the exact same man who he had fought with in the same damn seats three years ago. Hell, he looked like the same man he’d dueled on the beach of Duelist Kingdom island.

“How much do you want?” Kaiba had asked in that god-awful conversation. Kaiba spoke coldly, as if it wasn’t his husband standing before him but an uppity secretary demanding a raise.

Joey had the messy manilla folder out. The old prenup looked fresh other than the creased corner, the bends around the staple proving that someone had read it.

Without a word, he handed it over to his husband. Kaiba skimmed it, eyes quick and calculating. Then he tossed it in the fire.

“You’ve always been a terrible negotiator,” Kaiba said, pouring a bit more whiskey in the glass on the coffee table. The liquor was erasing the bored look in his eye. For the first time in a long time, Kaiba’s glare looked a little unhinged to Joey. Like he was as a teenager—barely suppressing his manic energy. Kaiba took a long, slow sip of his drink before returning to the conversation. “I’m not trying to hold out on the father of my children.”

“Say what you want, and it’s yours.” Kaiba’s words sounded completely empty of passion, drive. Everything that Joey had fallen in love with.

The combination of venom and possession in those words made Joey’s blood boil. How impersonal, as if there was no other important relationship there. Nothing else that he could recognize. Just the father of my children, like a job title. And wasn’t that just like Kaiba? Generosity as the ultimate weapon. Proving he cared so little for the entire situation by abdicating any role. Take whatever you want—none of it matters anyway.

With the paperwork in flames, Joey’s lawyer would have told him that he was entitled to half of everything his husband owned, including those valuable shares of Kaiba Corp. If Joey had been thinking cruelly and carefully, he might have realized then what he only contemplated years later: that he had been the only person who could have taken Kaiba Corporation away from Seto Kaiba without a fight. Those shares and the right collaborator… Joey could have taken the whole thing in a matter of months. Ousted Kaiba, put his ex of the street. Reminded Kaiba what that felt like.

But of course, Kaiba had played three steps ahead, and even his evaluation of Joey’s demands was insightful. He had correctly assumed that Joey wanted nothing to do with the company.

“I don’t want any money. I don’t need it. I can figure something out on my own. I don’t need you for that,” Joey said. Honda had been pissed at him about it when Joey had called the next morning to tell him that terrible bargaining position. Honda supported any way to make sure that Kaiba got the fullest “Fuck You” that Joey could manage, but he was floored that Joey wanted to have to work, and budget, and live like he hadn’t spent the last fifteen years of his life in a world where money was ethereal, unimportant. So plentiful that it had lost absolutely all value and meaning.

Kaiba laughed villainously into the whiskey, campfire scent bubbling up. “Keep the house. Our children shouldn’t have to move. This is more instability than they deserve anyway.”

Joey didn’t push the issue. The instability stung, and the fact that he repeated his parent’s pattern of getting divorced with young children was absolutely searing on his heart. Instead of mourning, he let the bitterness curdle. And Joey couldn’t help remarking, “I’d be surprised if they noticed a difference.”

Kaiba said nothing, kept his face schooled in that icy way that sickened the blond. But it was imperfect to the skilled observer, and his eyes heated up, eyelids becoming just a little wider.

“They should continue to attend their current schools, this cannot interfere with their education,” Kaiba droned, as if it was just another term of a perfectly standard consumer contract. “And they should spend the summer in Domino. We can switch off for the winter holidays.”

Part of Joey was waiting for Kaiba to suggest that they split the kids up. A perfect 50/50 of the children. It was the worst thing that Joey could think to do, really. Shove in Joey’s face that he had made the same mistakes as his parents, had learned nothing. Demonstrate, viscerally, that Joey was going to dissolve their marriage and hurt his kids in the same way that he had been hurt.

But it never came. In the moment Joey felt so defensive. So certain that Kaiba would exploit every vulnerability—that was the man he knew. Ruthless in every sense.

In the years that passed, Joey realized that he wouldn’t have married someone so evil that he’d do that. That Kaiba’s own pain should have been enough to guarantee he had no interest in splitting the siblings. But in the battleground that their living room had become, Joey couldn’t trust anything.

“Fine. But otherwise, I don’t want to see a cent of your goddamn money.”

This line, which Joey had considered so fucking crystal clear became the core of their most prominent post-break-up arguments.

Joey had always been a crowd favorite at the kids’ daycare, and his transition to part-time employee was seamless. A quick mention of the divorce was all that it took to silence any lingering questions. He was good with kids, warm and patient, and he wasn’t far from his own. The job paid enough, the hours weren’t demanding.

After Kaiba had returned to Domino City full time, the economics of the problem became apparent.

Simply put, the mansion upkeep was entirely unreasonable on Joey’s salary. Everyone was aware of this, especially Joey. He was planning on letting the gardens narrow to a level that he could manage on the weekends, drop the security teams, just let everything mellow out. The household manager was fired on day one. The maids on day two. The house was never as spotless, but the traces of dust and dirt were a small price to pay for the lived-in feel that grew.

But the bills never arrived. No emails, no letters, clearly they were rerouted. Gardeners that Joey had fired showed up Monday, as if they hadn’t gotten the news. No house staff returned without a request, and Joey really was going to let it slide.

But the next month Joey received a notice that the utilities had been overpaid. Not by a terribly extravagant amount, but by about a thousand dollars. Joey knew better, but he resisted looking the gift horse in the mouth for just one month and accept the refund.

The next month, the refund doubled, and Joey wasn’t going to take it. When Kaiba answered the phone, Joey didn’t even give him the opportunity to pick a greeting.

“I told you, I don’t want the money. I’m gonna send it back to you, what’s the address again?” Joey demanded.

“Put it in the children’s trusts. Put it towards—” Kaiba’s answer was harsh and quick.

“I don’t want the money, Kaiba. I don’t need it. They don’t need it. We’re fine without it.” Without you, Joey almost shouted. But Kaiba was smart enough, right? He should be able to understand that much.

“Fine.” Kaiba hung up first to spite Joey’s victory, but the refunds on the utilities stopped. Over the last few years there were a couple more schemes. Refunds from the school. Overpaid property taxes. Every time Joey whined to Honda, his friend told him to give up and just take it.

But Yugi had a different guess. Yugi pointed out that, well, every time Kaiba came up with a new way to slip money to Joey, Joey called to clear it up.

“I don’t know how many people he talks to, Jounouchi-kun, but maybe… he just wants to call.”

What an entirely too human thing for Joey’s ex-husband to do. “He has my number, if he wants to talk, he can try, instead of buying it.”

Yugi had shrugged and wisely changed the subject. The whole thing left an odd taste in Joey’s mouth. Even though Joey was the one who had asked for the divorce, Kaiba had done his utmost to seem entirely unaffected by the whole thing. Joey had been prepared for a knock down, drag out fight. Instead, Kaiba kept such an impartial face, it was as if the dissolution of their union didn’t perturb him in the slightest. As if it were some sort of contract terminated at inconvenient time, and no more.

Mind returning to the present, Joey scanned Kaiba’s face in the glow of the fire for any sign of humanity. Any indication that their separation had bothered Kaiba just a fraction of the way it had hurt Joey.

Finding none, Joey handed off the warm mug of hot cocoa. If Kaiba realized it wasn’t coffee, it didn’t show on his face.

“So, anyone miss me at the wedding?”

Kaiba gulped down some “Your friends were there, of course. I think they would have preferred to see you than me.” Kaiba took another pensive sip at the cocoa mug. “Atticus was right. His piano performance was excellent.”

Kaiba pulled out his phone. The screensaver of a Blue Eyes White Dragon melted into a sea of icons. KC must have released a new model in the intervening years. Joey took a bit of joy in the fact that he hadn’t even noticed.

The screen dissolved into Kaiba’s photo album within a few taps. The grid was full of almost identical images of their kids at the wedding, and Kaiba had to scroll for a bit before tracking down a video. It pricked at Joey’s chest, just a touch, to see how many duplicate photos Kaiba had taken of the little subjects.

Finally, Kaiba pressed play and there was nine-year-old Atticus, fluffy brown hair tamed in the back just barely in a tiny low ponytail. Between the hair and his light blue suit, he looked like a baby Mozart, Joey thought.

The image of him at the white grand piano began to move, and the boy played some classical music that Joey couldn’t identify if his life depended on it. It sounded pleasant, the notes flowing and smooth—clearly the little guy had been taking his lessons seriously.

“He is good, huh?” Joey smiled, looking at Kaiba. The radiant satisfaction in Kaiba’s eyes hurt to look at for too long.

Kaiba handed him the phone and stood up. “I’ll check on them. They’ve been quiet for too long, I don’t trust it.” Kaiba rose with his usual dignity. Even without the trench coat, the man swept out of the room with such presence. For better or worse, Joey’s house had lost the melodrama without him marching about.

His ex-husband’s phone sat heavy in his hands. The new release was slim, all flawless and shiny and new. It was a little hot. And it was unlocked. He could search through anything—did Kaiba really still trust him that much?

Joey smirked, and continued to look through the wedding pictures. The rest of the reception looked very precious. There were many attempts to capture a decent shot of Mokuba and his new wife Yui smiling with the kids. From the number of goofy pictures and the relative paucity of serious ones, it had been an uphill battle for Kaiba to get one decent picture that he could put on his desk.

The next series appeared to be taken by Atticus, a legendary phone thief, and was largely shots of Kaiba’s arms and hands grasping for his phone. Joey’s own phone had more than enough pictures like that, and sometimes he couldn’t bring himself to delete them either.

There were a couple of cute shots of Alexis challenging Yugi to a duel. She could read the majority of the cards. Joey didn’t know how she convinced Kaiba to let her bring her duel disk to the wedding, but he was always a sucker for the kids.

There were some pictures what were just Kaiba and Mokuba, and Joey couldn’t help but gaze at his ex-husband. Standing next to his brother with that small smile that looked so hauntingly like the photo in Mokuba’s locket.

They weren’t teenagers, but the pang in Joey’s chest was not convinced.

The next few photos hurt even more, just Kaiba and the kids. Alexis, duel disk still strapped faithfully to her arm, appeared to have requested to be held, and Atticus stood in front making little peace signs and sticking his tongue out.

Kaiba was smiling that tiny, genuine way—still. Through rows of photos, he didn’t stop, except for a few when Atticus jumped to try and steal his sister’s duel disk.

Joey’s eyes pricked with tears, and all of that curiosity was silenced. He had meant to do some snooping—follow up on some headlines about a secret lover that Honda had sent him—but any curiosity was stamped out.

Joey decided it was because he was sad to miss their friends, not their life together. And that everyone had been playing quietly for too long. He abandoned the phone on the couch to see what had happened in the playroom.

The playroom was a nice, cute space. Light blue walls, big windows facing the gardens, plush tan carpeting. Back when they had maids, the room was always tidy, but now Joey had given up. It was for the kids to play in, anyway, so if the train set and crayons and common Duel Monsters cards littered the floor, who really cared. Against the wall, there was a fairly large grey couch that had seen better days.

It was almost too much, to see Kaiba, passed out with a book in his lap, and the kids on either side snoring away. Alexis’ hair dripped over the side of the couch. Atticus was leaning against his father. Joey leaned over to collect Alexis first to take her to her bedroom.

The soft vision was hard to face, and Joey couldn’t resist the simple thought that “this is what I wanted.”

At the movement, Kaiba stirred.

Joey resisted smiling at the spacey, sleepy face. Kaiba blinked tiredly, slowly collecting himself and gathering his bearings. It took quite a lot of effort. “I’m putting them to bed,” Joey said. Kaiba nodded and ruffled Atticus’s hair.

By the time Atticus had been dropped off at his room, Kaiba was missing. But Joey had a decent guess where to find him.

. . .

“So, who’s the secret lover?” Joey asked, wandering into the room that had once been Seto’s study. Joey hadn’t changed anything about it. He hadn’t even removed the decanter of expensive Japanese whiskey or the two crystal glasses that sat next to it. To be honest, he hadn’t spent time in the room at all, except occasionally dusting when he remembered. After the kids were asleep, it was Seto’s usual haunt back in the day. Seto was nothing if not a man of certain preferences.

The decanter was already wide open, and Seto was making significant progress in draining it. He looked quite at home for a man who had been threatening to stay in a hotel. His cheeks were just a little flushed and Joey could tell the liquor was affecting him because Seto laughed at Joey’s comment.

“Please. You don’t have some sort of web alert on my name, do you?” Kaiba said, raising his glass like there was something to celebrate.

“Nah. But Honda does,” Joey answered, and was rewarded with another one of Kaiba’s signature cackles. It was close enough to friendly that Joey decided to take the companion chair in the study. Joey hadn’t sat in that chair even once in the three years since Kaiba’s departure. Leaning into the plush velvet, he realized he had missed it.

“Of course. There is no one, naturally, just that endless speculation. A man continues to take care of his appearance and he can never do it for his professional image and personal health,” Kaiba pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling absently. “It must be for a lover.” The echo of blue light from the phone contrasted the warm yellow light from the study’s art-nouveau inspired banker’s lamps. It traced Kaiba’s high cheekbones in a flattering manner. It made Joey instantly more insecure about his own softer face.

Between the baggy sweatpants and charitable flannel bathrobe, he felt like no one would accuse him of taking up a new lover. If anything, he had spotted a few unflattering headlines in the last couple of years. The attention died off dramatically after Kaiba was all the way out of the picture. “Well, I’m sure you’re not worried about me finding anyone else. Don’t think anyone’s interested these days, I kinda let myself go.”

Kaiba’s eyes snapped away from his phone and back to Joey with a fierceness that Joey hadn’t expected. “First of all, I do not tolerate anyone talking about the father of my children that way,” Kaiba spat, the liquor making him slur the edges of some of the words. “And second,” Kaiba huffed a short breath, “you really have no idea what’s going on in my head.”

“Y’know what, Kaiba,” Joey challenged, “I really fucking don’t.”

Kaiba downed the rest of the drink. “I was thinking that you look just as attractive as the day I met you,” and Joey could spot that hunger in his eyes, seductive as ever. “Your hair is still always tousled, like you’ve been playing outside all the time.”

Kaiba returned his full attention to the decanter. “And I can’t look in your eyes without my heart absolutely aching,” Kaiba said as he refilled his glass. He sounded a bit angry to deliver the compliment.

The heat rose in Joey’s cheeks with the compliments. Joey released a sad little laugh before commenting. “Why do you gotta hold back on stuff like that ‘cept when you’re drinkin’ or whatever?”

Kaiba didn’t answer. He put his drink down and leaned in, so close that the heat of his breath tickled Joey’s cheek. Kaiba’s hand floated up to Joey’s face, the pad of his thumb running tenderly over the stubble on his jawline. Those haunted blue eyes saw straight into Joey’s soul.

“Even though you have done nothing but break my heart for the last four years, you are just as irresistible as ever,” Kaiba whispered, before pulling Joey in. There was no force behind the touch, as if he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to.

Maybe, Joey thought, if he hadn’t had such a dry spell, if he wasn’t so intoxicated by Kaiba’s praise and presence, then Kaiba wouldn’t have been allowed to. But the combination of loneliness, yearning, and unspoken regret was too heady. Always, Kaiba had to be too powerful.

And the kiss could have been their first kiss. It could have been the kiss that sealed their marriage at their wedding. It could have been the kiss after Joey first saw Kaiba hold Atticus. The kiss after they brought Alexis home from the hospital. It was tender and warm and peaceful. It was so right it felt like nothing had every happened to them, between them.

It was soft, and chaste. And too loving.

After Kaiba released, he must have noticed the tears that had leaked involuntarily from Joey’s eyes. The next kiss was not nearly so pure.

For one thing, Kaiba couldn’t seem to resist sticking his hands in Joey’s hair and pulling him in. If that first kiss was asking for permission, the second was to put Joey on notice that he was going to be devoured whole. It was hot and the lingering whisky all but burned Joey’s mouth. The campfire smell was almost too much—a warning that this was a bad idea. That they were both vulnerable and volatile and misguided.

But that hot mouth once again overpowered good sense. It always did, after all. And Joey only broke the make out in order to rise from his seat and straddle Kaiba’s hips in the opulent chair. It was clumsier than the last time they had done this, and Joey felt a bit insecure and out of shape, too much on display. But before the could undo his bold move, Kaiba grabbed him by the hips, long fingers artfully playing with the band of his sweatpants, dancing under his shirt and to his back. Kaiba smoothly scraped his nails down the soft flesh. Kaiba’s efforts were rewarded with a full body shudder, and he smirked back, as if to say “I’ve still got it.”

Joey moved in for another kiss, just to get that stupid, self-satisfied smirk off of his face. He was interrupted by his own moan at the sweet sensation of Kaiba grabbing and kneading at his ass. It was sexy as hell, and he felt so wanted. Like Kaiba was drinking in every second of his time with him. Like the last four years had faded away—or maybe never happened.

Joey knew enough signature moves to reduce his partner to a quivering mess. He decided to run his own nails over Kaiba’s scalp and was instantly pleased when Kaiba purred into his mouth. Putty in his hands.

As they proceeded, Kaiba continued to make desperate, needy noises. After his shifted his hips up and whimpered, Joey determined that something was up.

Well, something else.

After he pulled back and rose shakily to his own feet, he offered a hand to his partner.

Kaiba stumbled. He caught himself, but only by relying on Joey’s stability. He looked a little dizzy just to be standing.

“Goddammit. You’re really drunk Kaiba. And you probably didn’t even take breaks or shifts on the flight over, so you’re exhausted too,” Joey sighed.

Joey should have caught on faster, should have known better.

“This is so totally you, so fucking classic. You haven’t changed. This is why I fucking left, and never looked back. You’re exhausted and want to pull something and just… I really just get the dregs of you. Like you give your all to every single thing on earth, anything, so that you’re a mess by the time that you get to me. I’m the last priority every damn time, below even your desire to fuck off.”

“Jou…” Kaiba said his name on the exhale, and it evaporated in the room.

“You haven’t changed a bit in three years. I’m wasting my breath, you’re too much of a mess to even appreciate this. But I’ll tell you I feel like you bought me, and our relationship comes last. I’m your child-rearing assistant, the head nanny, and you don’t even have to try to be my partner.” Joey could feel his face going read with anger. “I get the worst of you, every time.”

Kaiba was silent. One of the most frustrating things about Seto was that no matter what he was going through, the processing power of his mind was rarely genuinely diminished.

“I am a good father.” Kaiba said, more to himself than to Joey.

“Yeah, but you’re a shit husband.”

Joey regretted it the second he said it. Hearing it out of his mouth felt unpleasant, like he was possessed by someone else. Someone a lot crueler, more dismissive.

Kaiba had no comment, no stinging rejoinder. He leaned onto Joey’s shoulder, long brown strands falling against the flannel bathrobe.

“C’mon, you can sleep in the guestroom.” Joey’s arm wound around Kaiba’s waist as he dragged him through the hallway.

#seto kaiba #Kaiba Seto #Jounouchi Katsuya #Joey Wheeler #puppyshipping #Violetshipping #fanfiction #fanfic #yugioh #ygo #ygo:dm #my fic #i wrote this #damn i did

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ljf613 · 3 years ago

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20 Fic Writer Questions

Thanks to @theboyfrommakapu and @old-and-new-friends for the tag.

1) How many works do you have on AO3? Technically 66, but 9 of those are really just stubs of fics I will write someday.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 131,183.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 14: Miraculous Ladybug, Tales of Arcadia, Teen Wolf, Space Boy, Dr Quinn: Medicine Woman, Children of the Wolves: Ame & Yuki, Yona of the Dawn, Fairy Tail, Shall We Date?: THE NIFLHEIM+, The Dragon Prince, Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic, The Familiar of Zero, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Avatar: The Legend of Korra, and several others that have not yet been posted. (The NIFLHEIM fic was just as a crossover for a Fairy Tail fic, I'm not invested in that one enough that I'd really write a story in that fandom on its own.)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. nobody wants to pay the asking price (716 kudos) 2. you don't get what all this is about (669 kudos) 3. we all bend and break sometimes (644 kudos) 4. I'm worse at what I do best (559 kudos) 5. fifteen for a moment (541 kudos) (The we all want love/we all want honor series is way more popular than I ever anticipated it would be.)

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Always. There are times when it takes me a little way to come up with a good response, especially for the really detailed comments (I think the oldest unanswered one is from way back in January), but I get around to it eventually. I think it's really important to interact with people who've not only taken the time to read my stories, but also want to talk about them.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? It's Winter Again (And I Can't Wait To See You), without a doubt. I wanted to write a super-angsty Yuaang fic, and I believe I succeeded.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? The happiest? I haven't actually ended too many fics, and most of them didn't end particularly happily-- hopefully might be a more apt description....... I guess The Bells of Kardia Cathedral had a pretty happy ending.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written? I've only written one real crossover (aside from a couple of ATLA/LOK "crossovers"), the aforementioned Fairy Tail/NIFLHEIM fic Fairy Tail in NIFLHEIM, which was pretty crazy. I do have an ATLA/Magi crossover planned that I think might be pretty interesting.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? I don't think so (unless I deleted and forgot about it). The closest I can think of (although I can't find it now, so I either imagined it or whoever wrote it deleted it) was someone who thinks the way I'm handling Toph in the Ba Sing Se arc of we all want love/we all want honor is rather OOC for how I've set her up in this series. I actually do understand where that person is coming from, and I plan on addressing exactly why she's behaving the way she is sometime in the next few chapters.

10) Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Nope. Never have, never will, don't even ask.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not..... exactly? Someone's reposted the entirety of wawl/wawh and reposted it in a single doc, but it was posted privately for personal use (to make it easier for them to download the whole thing together). I haven't yet decided what I want to do about that.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but I'm totally open to it if anyone's interested!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nah. There were times in the past when I almost did, but it never seemed to work out.

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship? Nathan x Haley (Naley) from One Tree Hill #otp: always and forever

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Well, nothing's completely off the table, but probably The Death of a First Crush. I have a lot of fondness for that fic-- it was probably the first real longfic I ever attempted to write, and I always knew exactly where I was going with it and how I wanted it to end. However, I started it at a very particular time of my life, when I was going through some very particular emotional stages I was trying to convey, and I don't think I could recapture those feelings if I wanted to. And maybe also Children of the Wolves. That's a story I was super-excited about, and I'd probably been thinking about since middle school (long before I discovered that fanfic was an actual 'thing' other people might actually be interested in reading)-- but the response was so lackluster I couldn't muster up any real motivation to continue it. I would like to get back to it someday, but only if there's some real interest.

16) What are your writing strengths? I'm but a lot of thought into my at worldbuilding, I do my best to avoid plotholes, and I think my dialogue and descriptions are pretty good.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? I don't know how to draft things-- they have to be absolutely perfect the first time, or I will sit and wait until they are. Also, I can't really write action-- fight scenes and such require a lot of visual/spatial awareness my aphantasiac brain just isn't capable of.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Well..... I don't think I've ever really done it, although I wouldn't be opposed to it if it made sense for the plot. If it was a real language, I'd definitely want to get help from an actual speaker, rather than just relying on Google translate or something.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? The first fandom I ever posted for was Miraculous Ladybug. The first fandom I ever wrote for (that I actually have posted, we're not discussing the mediocre Twilight stories I scribbled out in middle school or anything) was Familair of Zero.

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? My absolute favorite? IDK...... I really love the age of wizardry is over, and I'm super-proud of both Between the Emotion and the Response and we all want love/we all want honor.

Tagging: I have no idea who has and hasn't been tagged for this yet, so if you're interested, just go for it!

#tagging game #about me #my writing #my fics #all queued up

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livesincerely · 4 years ago

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4, 8, 14 :)

4. Do you prefer to write long, plot heavy fics or shorter character/relationship studies?

I don’t know if anything I’ve written really counts as a character study per se, but shorter fics are definitely easier. (Looking at you, let’s cut to the chase.)

That said, take a shot and run away with me are very dear to me, despite all the trouble they give me with their refusal to do as I ask them to. Like, as much as I love the pining disaster vibes of tie fic, in take a shot there’s more of a sense that things are at stake. That there will be twists and turns and unexpected developments and foreshadowing and setbacks.

There’s definitely more pressure—though I can’t tell if that’s because of the fic or if it’s just me working myself up about it—but I’m also so excited to see people’s reactions as things unfold. Because things are unfolding, and there are mysteries and things I’m playing close to the chest. And people are actually speculating about what’s gonna happen next, which is absolutely amazing.

8. How soon after finishing your first draft of a fic or chapter do you post it? Do you write multiple drafts? If so, how many?

I usually post the finished draft of whatever fic/draft I’m working on as soon as I’m done with it.

I’m very much the type that edits as I go—I’m trying to be better about just getting words on the page, then going back and finagling them, but it hasn’t happened yet—so usually by the time I finish something, there are sections that have seen multiple drafts/rewrites (usually the opening third, plus random other bits) and sections that are basically untouched.

When I transfer it over to Ao3, I make a point of reading through the whole thing aloud before I post it. That’s really good for helping me catch typos, over used words or phrases, etc, and just seeing how everything feels overall. I usually end up adding another 100-500 words during this step, because as I’m reading my brain will be like “oh, wait, why doesn’t the next part go like this?” or “oh, but, why didn’t he say this instead of that?” and then I’ll be like, “damn, brain, you are so right!” and then things gets added and moved around.

Fun fact, there’s an entire section that got tacked onto chapter two of tie fic because of this! That chapter originally ended right when Les bursts back into the room and interrupts them—I ended up adding that last little bit of convo between Jack and Davey last minute because my brain was like, “oh, well, and then Jack’s obviously gonna try to leave out the window because Jack and Davey’s gonna have to stop him, and then they’ll talk.”

14. How long do your fics usually take to write?

They take forever!! Literally forever!!! In my defense I don’t get a lot of time to write, so it probably only takes me a handful of days to a week to get a chapter up when I have time, but in actuality, I’m lucky if I get two one shots/chapters posted each month.

Which is the worst, but I do my best.

My sunday sixes have been helpful in at least ensuring that I write at least a little each week, though it’s mostly fragments. (Progress is progress, right?) I’m also really bad about committing to a project and finishing it, because my brain loves to bounce around from idea to idea. I know I talk about a lot of different fic concepts and ideas I’d love to work on someday, eventually, but I have even more that I haven’t talked about, because Ciarra do not start any more fics until you finish the ones you’ve started. Do not! No!

#*ask #*ask game #*editor's note #thank you for this 😊

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johaerys-writes · 4 years ago

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Chapter 14: Cobwebs and Oathstones

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Aran Trevelyan/Tristan Trevelyan

Summary:

Aran and Tristan are childhood friends. Best friends. Brothers, almost. They’ve been inseparable since the moment they met, one rainy autumn day underneath the maple tree in the school playground.

Best friends don’t fall in love with each other. Surely not.

The new chapter of my and @oftachancer’s collaborative fic, featuring her OC Aran and my OC Tristan is up! Where the Terrible T’s venture into the ancient catacombs underneath the Trevelyan manor, and discover something... unexpected 👀

Read more on AO3, or start from the beginning :)

****

“Oh, wow!” Tilly exclaimed, turning her head to look around the catacombs like a curious bird. “This place is huge!”

“It is!” Aran replied. “There’s loads of stuff down here. Last time, Tris and I found this massive set of armour that belonged to a great uncle of yours- was it Trevor Trevelyan?”

“Trenton Trevelyan the Third,” Tristan grumbled, illuminating the corridor before them with the torch.

“Aye, that’s the one! He had this huge sword, too, right, absolutely massive. Tris said he could wield it one handed, but Void knows how he did it because that thing was- Ah! What- Is that a spider?!” Aran spun in a circle, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck- get it off, get it off!” Tilly gasped and ran to his side, patting down his hair and his back, while Aran’s cries echoed deafeningly down the corridor.

Tristan sighed, wondering whether people would notice it if he locked them both in the catacombs and then fled.

“I don’t see a spider, munchkin,” Tilly said worriedly, biting her lip as she searched through Aran’s hair. “Maybe it was just your imagination.”

“I hate them. I hate them.” Aran twisted to look back over his shoulder, aiming his light at himself. “So many feckin’ legs,” he shivered, tugging his hood up over his head and cinching it tight. He looked to Tristan, biting his lip, fingers flexing in that way they did at school or at parties right before he suggested they find somewhere to go that wasn’t people. Right before he reached for him and tucked his palm against Tristan’s and gave that quiet sigh that was the first of many as hand holding progressed to other things… Aran held his gaze in the dark and shoved his hands and his torch into the pouch of his sweatshirt. “It was a big sword,” he finished lamely.

Tristan swallowed thickly, looking away. He didn't like that he couldn't hold his hand, or kiss him. He didn't like hiding what they had from Tilly, of all people. But it was still so early. Tristan hadn't fully understood what was happening between them himself, and if he told Tilly, she would have questions. He wouldn't last a moment under her scrutiny. And she might tell Mother, or someone else and then...

"Right," he said abruptly, marching ahead. "The room is not too far from here. We can go there first and check the sword after we're done." He would think about it all later. Now was not the time.

"Oh, yes, we should!" Tilly said excitedly. "Swords are so fun. Remember when we went to the Ostwick History Museum with school, three years ago? All those sets of armour! All those swords! Those lances! They were so shiny. And I loved the engravings. Some of them were absolutely beautiful- they don't make them like that anymore. Well, they don't make them at all anymore, which is a pity if you ask me. Oh! Wouldn't it be fun if we had armour and swords made for the three of us? I bet we would all look smashing. The Terrible T's: Fourth Blight edition." She threaded her arm through Aran's, grinning.

“So long as it’s without the actual Blight.” Aran leaned into her, eyeing the webs they passed under with suspicion. “You should see the armor we found down here, too! When we found it, Tris said he’d wear it. You’re pretty tall. Might suit you better.”

“It looked heavy," Tristan said. “Even if both of you got in it, I don’t think you’d be able to lift it.”

“So you’d be able to lift it and the both of us wouldn’t?” Tilly sniffed. “Someone has a big idea of themselves.”

“No,” Tristan rolled his eyes, “I just call things how I see them.” He quickened his step, walking well ahead of them. The sooner they reached the blighted room, the sooner they’d leave. He hoped. “We’re close. Aran, is your torch working?”

“Hm?” Aran was walking with his chin perched on Tilly’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around her. “No hands. Don’t know.”

Tilly laughed, reaching into Aran’s sweatshirt pouch. “Here. I’ve got it.” She switched it on, illuminating the corridor before them. “You know, I learnt a spell last year that gives you light without using a torch. Some mages use it with a wand or a staff, but I can cast it without one! Although Mistress Anaan said it’s dangerous and that she would punish anyone who tried it. Oh, I wish I could show you! If only we were allowed to use magic outside the Circle. Think we’re deep enough into the earth now to not be detected? I’ve heard that when mages go into the Deep Roads, the magic detectors can’t sense them at all, so they can cast as many spells as they like. Regina, the new transfer from the Lake Callenhad Circle, was telling us that many mages from their Circle were sent to the Deep Roads in Orzammar to test out new spells that they didn’t want the government to know about. It was all very hush-hush, you understand. That is if she was telling the truth, which I’m not entirely sure she was. She told Gianna that Bastien asked her out, and Gianna told me, because she knows I know Bastien, and we sit next to each other in my Arcane magic class. So I asked Bastien-"

"Don't forget to breathe, Til," Tristan said teasingly.

"Oh, shush, you," his sister laughed. "Anyway- where was I?"

"What did Bastien say?" Aran asked, blinking up at her.

"Oh, yes! So. Bastien said he only texted her once, and that was to ask her to bring him back a pouch of crystal grace powder that he had lent her. So I’m not really sure what to make of her. Maybe she lies about some things, but not others." She tapped her chin with her finger, then made a vague gesture in the air, shaking her head. "Anyway. Top secret expeditions into the Deep Roads sound very, very interesting, if you ask me. I do hope they’re true. I do hope they send me there someday! I want to do all the research. All the spells! I might even come up with one that sends all the spiders running. I bet there’s loads of them in the Deep Roads. Then I’ll show you how to do it, Aran! Oh.” She paused, frowning. “It’s a pity you’re not a mage. We would have had so much fun together in the Circle. But that’s alright! When I go to the Deep Roads, I’ll take you with me. And I’ll keep you safe from all the spiders,” she grinned, pinching his chin.

“If you come up with a spell that scares spiders of all shapes and sizes, they’ll give you an award and a duchy,” Aran beamed at her. “I will. I’ll found a feckin’ kingdom and hand you the keys to it.” He nudged her with his shoulder, “Anyway, Miri’s there if you want a dose. She’s fun.”

"Oh, yes! Miranda's lovely. I see her from time to time, but she's usually busy. She's working really hard on her apprenticeship. Her blue robes suit her very nicely. I can't wait to get started on my own. Mistress Anaan said I might be able to start early if I pass all my exams with good marks next year. I'm thinking Arcane or Primal. Everyone says they're tough, but I think they're both fascinating. Oh! Is this the room?" She cast the light of her torch on the door that Tristan had stopped before.

Tristan took a hesitant step forward, let his gaze glide over the engravings on the door's surface. "Yes. That's the one."

"Oooh." Tilly's eyes widened. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get in!"

Tristan reached for the doorknob, his heart thrumming in his chest. The door protested loudly as he pushed it open, raising a cloud of dust in its wake. "Okay," he said, standing aside. "On you go. Search to your heart's content."

“You’re really not coming in?” Aran asked quietly.

Tristan let out a slow exhale through his nose. "I am. In- in a minute." He watched as Tilly walked forward, swinging the light of the torch in a wide arc around the room, before stopping at the large stone in its center.

"Oh, my. Sweet Maker! Is that the stone? The oath stone? Quick, Aran, get your notebook out! I need to get a good look at those runes. We should take all of them down- but first, we must figure out what they mean. Some runes activate as soon as they're written in order. Wouldn't want to set something on fire before we've had a chance to study them. Although that would be fascinating in its own right. Do we have any water in case that happens…? Oh, well, we'll just need to be careful."

Tristan sighed, flexing and curling his hands at his sides. "I don't like this. I don't like it one bit. I told you we shouldn't have come down here."

“It’s okay,” Aran met his eyes. He shifted his backpack to his side and brushed his fingers down Tristan’s forearm behind the bulk of it. “We won’t do anything to start it up again. Just figure out what it actually is. You’ll feel better knowing, aye?”

"I don't know," Tristan mumbled, the knot in his stomach tightening. He caught Aran's pinky with his own, squeezing lightly. "Some things are better left on their own."

“But you don’t know what those do until you see what they are, eh? What if-“ Aran lifted his brows, squeezing back. “What if your great-grandad had to do something on this thing to be able to wear that armor or heft that sword? Even if you never want to do it, wouldn’t it be cool to know?”

Tristan nodded reluctantly, worrying his lip. "Okay," he said quietly. "Okay. Let's- let's just get this over with. This place is very… dusty." He scrunched his nose, looking away.

“Aye, it is. Just some notes. And then movies.” His eyes gleamed in the torchlight, the yellow making his soft blue eyes like a summer sky filled with sun. “If you want.”

Tristan swallowed thickly. Aran’s gaze on him and his fingers that threaded discreetly through his sent a rush of warmth through him. “I do,” he whispered. “You know I do. I-”

“Aran! Tris! Come, come over here! I think I know what most of these runes mean. There’s so many of them, oh, dear. Our ancestors worked really hard on this thing. Or whoever made it for them, anyway. I haven’t seen one quite like this before. And you said there was a sword, too? And a book?”

“Yes,” Tristan said, untangling his fingers from Aran’s, “there’s a sword. But I’m not touching it. And neither are you,” he glanced sharply at Aran.

“I brought gloves,” Aran smiled hopefully.

Tristan huffed and walked away from him, coming to stand over Tilly. “Right. What did you find?”