#the more fervently enthusiastic the author needs to be

[readythefanons]

1, 14, & 15!

ah! ♥ I will answer re: my silly MurderBot WIP

1: the dumbest possible version of the next sentence needed:

And then the soft marshmallow and the sunshine one hugged, and the grouchy one was grouchy about not being included while still repulsed by physical touch.

That's it, that's the penultimate beat of this entire thing!!!!

15: what about this WIP is driving you nuts?

Honestly I would really like to be done writing this one! It feels like having a tab open for several months... in my brain

14: what do you like about this WIP?

This is the dumbest, silliest, most unnecessary fic in the entire world. The audience for this fic is me and one other person, maximum, and given my current antipathy for it, it's probably less than 2 right now!

And yet,* here it is, still taking up space in my brain.

This started with some sort of joke along the lines of "I'm going to invent a crackship. I'm going to artificially create a blorbo." And then I picked a) a character with like 3 speaking lines in the whole fic and b) a character with 0 speaking lines that may or may not be canonically sentient. And I went "IT'S TIME"

And... you know??? It was super fun to write! And my friend liked it! And I would just love to slip those last few jokes into it and tie it up with a bow.

And I will.

(someday!)

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOT MY FIRST RODEO — COOPER HOWARD/THE GHOUL

masterlist

part two | part three [coming soon]

pairing: cooper howard/the ghoul x reader, mentions of john hancock x reader hehe

description: the tension between you and cooper had been palpable for ages, and he was beginning to struggle to deny his attachment to you — despite his reluctance. he’s certain you’d never really be interested in him like that, until he finds out he’s not the first ghoul to enjoy your company.

warnings: swearing, jealous!coop, sexual references/implied smut, angst, making out, mentions of drug taking

author’s note: writers block was POOF! gone the minute i rewatched fallout last week & restarted fallout 4. hancock will always be my bf so i couldn’t help myself from mentioning him. let me know if u want a part two with actual smut! i only left it out because i don’t really usually write smut on this blog haha.

—

Cooper Howard and John Hancock were by no means what you’d call friends.

However, as much as it pained him to admit it, the former knew that the latter was — by the standards of many — a good man who’d do the right thing to help others when needed.

That was why, however begrudgingly, he’d suggested that you spend the last few hours of today’s daylight making the short trip to Goodneighbor to stay ‘for a while’.

It was clear that an intense few days, hunting a difficult son of a bitch of a bounty, had very much tested your limits.

He told himself that, given the amount of caps that said son of a bitch had earned you, you could afford a couple of days laying low in Goodneighbor before picking up another job.

Well there was that and the fact that much to his dismay, in the short time you’d been accompanying him on the road he’d found himself irritatingly attached to you.

When he’d first stumbled upon you while collecting a bounty you’d failed to deliver on yourself, you’d enthusiastically offered your companionship and he’d fervently denied it.

You knew he doubted you’d be any use based on your circumstances when you met, but despite your reassurances that it was just because he was the notorious fucking ghoul that everyone went on about and he had simply beaten you to it, he dismissed you with a “not a chance, sweetheart,” and went on his way.

But when he kept bumping into you in the following days, he’d given in and afforded you the luxury of helping him out on this one job — allowing himself the comfort of the excuse that if he really needed, he could trade you for caps and say goodbye to the pretty girl so oddly desperate to be at his side.

You’d driven him crazy at first — full of questions and curiosity, never refraining from voicing what was on your mind.

The way you watched him so carefully, all doe-eyed and attentive, had initially just pissed him off. But in the weeks that followed this had mellowed, and he’d found himself almost grateful to have someone so comfortable around him.

He’d never admit that though.

You’d just been much more skilled in combat than he had expected. That’s why he told himself he kept you around.

He totally just figured that it couldn’t hurt to have someone close by who can handle themselves and is willing to take just a tiny stake of a bounty (on your part, you figured there was no need to take more — he basically spent his share with you anyway).

You, on the other hand, didn’t want to admit that you had been lonely and desperate and missing the life you’d previously been so comfortable in when Cooper walked — well, stormed, into your life.

He might not ever have intended to (in fact — if he’d known, he’d probably never have let you get so close) but upon gradually letting you into his life he’d nestled his way into the empty little nook left behind in your heart.

“Why did you hesitate when I said Goodneighbor?”

Oh yeah, there was that.

When you’d left Goodneighbor all those months ago, you’d left with a broken heart and a head full of hazy memories of the happiness that the place had once brought you.

“I didn’t hesitate.”

“You sure as shit did, and even you know you’re a damn bad liar,” the Ghoul scoffed, pausing his pacing and turning to look you in the eye, “What does a pretty little thing like you know about Goodneighbor?”

You folded your arms over your chest, shaking your head at him as his steely eyes bore into yours, “Nothing. Just odd you’re suddenly so eager to go hide away somewhere when you’ve called me all sorts’a names any time I’ve asked for even a short rest break.”

“You’re full’a shit,” his hand flew instinctively to the shotgun at his hip before he released a deep sigh and relaxed it, “So I’m gonna ask you one more time. What do you know about Goodneighbor?”

You pondered for a moment whether or not to keep lying to him — he didn’t know much of your full past beyond the fact that you’d been a vault dweller a long time ago and been fighting for a living since.

You’d settled briefly in a number of places, though, and he’d heard too many stories about times you’d left settlements for various reasons to believe that you’d be too scared to return anywhere with him at your side.

Especially not somewhere like Goodneighbor.

“I—was living there for a while,” you shrugged, avoiding his gaze again now, “Didn’t like it.”

The Ghoul laughed humourlessly at that, “C’mon sweetheart, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

“I didn’t feel—look there’s just someone I don’t really want to see round there, okay?” your eyes didn’t leave the floor as he took a step closer to you, heavy breaths almost taunting further information from you.

“And who might that be?”

You looked up at him for just a second before eyeing the dust below your feet again, “I was, well, I lived there quite a while. I was—seeing, well, romantically— uh, there was—,”

“Spit it out, sunshine.”

Sunshine.

You’d not been called that since the day you left Goodneighbor the last time, and you cursed yourself for physically recoiling at the sound of it.

“Well I’ll be fuckin’ damned. You got a thing for ghouls, huh?” the wicked grin on his face set your stomach alight with a combination of emotions, “Didn’t peg a pretty little thing like you as the type. That why you spent so long beggin’ me to take you with me? Little vaultie princess desperate for another ghoul to defile her?”

You were crimson red now.

You didn’t know how to react, startled by the fact that he knew who you meant based upon your reaction to the term.

Hancock had always been charismatic and flirtatious though — it was no wonder Cooper had heard him use the phrase before.

You were almost angry, immensely embarrassed and yet, at the same time, a little aroused by even his insinuation that he knew that you wanted him in that way.

You’d found him attractive almost immediately and yeah, maybe he was right and you did seem to have a thing for ghouls.

But you sure as hell weren’t going to let him stand there and make you feel embarrassed right now.

“That’s not it, it’s not some kind of—like—,”

“Hancock got bored of ya and you latched onto the next irradiated motherfucker you came across?” he spat, “Bet you regret it now you know that I sure as shit ain’t nothin’ like your precious old mayor.”

Somewhere in the harshness of his tone you were sure you could detect a hint of jealousy at the root of his mocking.

You sighed defeatedly, “I wasn’t looking for some kind of fucking replacement when I met you, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I just— you just— well— Whatever, it’s hardly like you’ve made any suggestion you’d want me if I made a move on you anyway.”

His eyes seemed impossibly dark now, narrowed on you as his finger reached up to tilt your chin upwards towards him, “Is that right, sweetheart?”

Your legs were like jelly beneath you, a jolt of lightning in your veins at his touch.

“Sure, you flirt with me, but you’re so damn up ‘n’ down sometimes that I don’t know if it means anything,” you shrugged, skin tingling as his fingers lingered beneath your chin, “If I was lookin’ to replace John, it would’ve taken more than you being a ghoul for that.”

If he still had eyebrows, they’d have been raised now, his eyes rolling, “Right, nobody comes close to Mr. Righteous Mayor.”

His breath fanned over your face, his eyes returning to stare into yours as if looking for a reaction he knew you wouldn’t want to give him.

But you were all riled up now — so he was going to get one.

“What, is this a pity party? You want me to tell you he’s not all that? That I’m better off now I’ve found you? Oh Coop… I want you, I need you, you’re better than him. Only ghoul for me,” you mocked, pressing your hand to your forehead in feigned fawning before snapping back to seriousness, as he watched you frustratedly.

“Like I said, you weren’t a replacement. I wanted company and somewhere along the way I’ve been fuckin’ stupid enough to like your company more than I should,” you huffed, “You don’t have to pretend you want more than this flirty-but-I-hate-you-a-little arrangement ‘cos you’re jealous knowing I’ve had much, much more than that with someone else— and another ghoul at that.”

A growl left his throat at your words, his hand meeting your waist and pushing you forward so that your back was pressed against the wall.

“You’re playin’ a dangerous game here, sweetheart,” he warned, “And it’s one you won’t win.”

Your head fell back in frustration and met the wall with a small thud as his other hand pressed firmly against the wall beside it.

“You think I feel inadequate or something?” he snarled, and for a moment you weren’t sure if the question was rhetorical.

“How the fuck should I know? It’s hardly like you let me know how you’re feeling ever,” you sighed, your mind growing increasingly cloudy at your close proximity and his hand still on your waist, “That’s all I meant about John. It’s nice to know someone wants you… Hell, it’s even nice to be told when they don’t no more just as long as you’re being told.”

He was baring his teeth in a snarl still, but his lips began curling back up into a smirk, “You think I don’t want ya? Think I haven’t thought about it when you’re at my side like a fuckin’ dog on a leash looking at me all doe eyed an’ fuckable?”

Your cheeks couldn’t have been more flushed, and you knew he could feel the way your thighs clenched together at his words.

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?” your response was a breathy whisper, the hairs on your neck pricking up and your heart thumping hard against your ribcage.

“Oh that’s a whole can of worms you don’t want opened, sweetheart,” he licked his lips, “Sweet little thing like you shouldn’t be with someone like me. But looks like I ain’t gotta worry about that, huh? Hancock’s already spoiled ya.”

You broke his intense gaze for a moment, eyes finding the floor as your teeth grazed your lips shyly at the weight of his words.

You couldn’t help the feeling that swelled in your chest at the lingering jealousy, and hearing him talk about wanting you as badly as you’d wanted him all this time gave you the confidence to push it.

“Oh he spoiled me good, you’re right,” you shrugged antagonistically, trying to quell the pain that still sat in your chest — albeit pain that took up much less space now that you’d found Cooper.

He scoffed, “That’s fightin’ talk for someone who don’t wanna see him again, darlin’.”

“Yeah well, he made me the happiest I’d been in the Wasteland since I left the vault and then tossed me aside ‘cause he got it in his head that I didn’t actually wanna be with him, like I must’ve been using him for his power and couldn’t really love him ‘cause he’s a fuckin’ ghoul — as if I didn’t know that when we met,” you grunted, “That’s all the fuckin’ chems for ya.”

Cooper leaned in closer to you now, “Well he’s a fuckin’ bigger idiot than I already thought he was, giving up you when he had ya all to himself like that.”

“Figure he doesn’t care. Might as well be married to Goodneighbor anyway.”

There was silence between you for a moment, nothing but heaved breaths and heavy eye contact as you pieced together what to do next.

You watched Cooper’s eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment, and could almost see the conflict behind them as he battled the urge to kiss you.

“I don’t wanna see him, but I don’t still want him, if that’s what’s stopping you,” you gulped, “In case it’s not loud and clear, I want you. Just didn’t wanna see him without any confirmation you aren’t gonna rock up there and declare me as some kinda fuckin’ pet and humiliate me even more than he did.”

“Enough talk about him,” Cooper growled, one hand pulling your face to his by the jaw, “If he don’t realise what he’s missin’, I definitely fuckin’ do.”

Finally, he kissed you.

Your hands flew around his neck, lips meeting his with equal fiery passion and pure need.

His one hand still remained cupping your jaw, whilst the other explored the waistband of your trousers earnestly, thumbing at your hipbone.

Finally, after all of these weeks of pining and sexual tension, Cooper Howard was giving you exactly what you needed — and all thoughts of John Hancock melted away.

You found yourself pulling him as close as physically possible, allowing him to press you against the wall as he stole your breath with the intensity of the kiss.

“Mightn’t be your first rodeo, sugar,” his lips pressed just behind your ear as he spoke, “But I’m sure as shit gonna make it feel like it is.”

———

eeeee please lmk if you’d like a part two with smut. or just a part two where they eventually go to goodneighbor. please feel free to request more coop or some hancock, and be warned there are more coop x hancock’s gf/ex!reader fics in the drafts because i can’t stop myself!!!!

in the meantime — here’s my masterlist.

[3rdeyeblaque]

On June 7th, we venerate Elevated Ancestor Mother Julia Greeley on the 105th anniversary of her passing 🕊

Affectionately known as Denver’s Angel of Charity, Mother Julia is a Servant of God & is the Patron of Black Catholics, Firefighters, Children, & the Poor/Homeless.

Mother Julia was born enslaved in Hannibal, Missouri sometime between 1833 -1848. She endured hellish treatment, even as a young child beneath her mother's skirts. During one fateful event, in particular, she was stricken by the whip that the slave master used while beating her mother; permanently damaging her right eye. Decades passed before she became among the first "freeman" in the state following the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. A young woman now, Mother Julia subsequently earned her living by serving White families throughout Missouri, Colorado, Wyoming and New Mexico —though primarily in the Denver area. It was her work with the family of Colorado’s first territorial governor that brought her to Denver in 1878.

Two years later, she worked odd jobs around the city until she came upon the steps of the Sacred Heart Parish of Denver, where she was conditionally baptized into the Catholic Church - since she hadn't known if she'd ever been baptized before. She became an enthusiastic parishioner, a daily communicant, & became an active member of the Secular Franciscan Order in 1901. The Jesuit priests at her parish recognized her as the most fervent promoter of devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus that they'd ever witnessed.

She was often seen wearing a floppy hat, oversized shoes, & dabbing her injured right eye with a handkerchief while pulling her red wagon of goods to deliver to the poor & homeless of the city. She'd often do this at night, knowing that some of the poor White families would be embarrassed to be seen receiving charity from her, a Black woman. Whatever she did not need for herself, she gave to the poor. When she had nothing more to give, she begged for food, supplies, & clothing for the needy.

She had a particular devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and would deliver pictures & pamphlets depicting it each month to firefighters throughout the city of Denver. As a daily communicant, Mother Julia also had a rich devotion to the Blessed Sacrament and the Blessed Virgin. She'd recite prayers even while working outside of the parish. She did so until the day of her death. Mother Julia died on June 7, 1918 — ironically on the day of the Feast of the Sacred Heart, around 80 years old.

After which, her body lay in state for 5hrs in a funeral that drew hundreds throughout the city to pay their respects to the woman who fed, clothed, & suported them in the dark for years on end.

Mother Julia was buried in Mt. Olivet Cemetery. The Catholic Church finally granted the request from many for her to be considered for canonizatio in 2016.

As part of the Cause for Canonization, her body was transferred to Denver’s Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception in 2017. Her remains were placed in a funerary box made of exotic red heart wood near the altar of the Sacred Heart in the northwest corner of the sanctuary, which will later be encapsulated in a sarcophagus made of Caralla marble (the same stone used by Michaelangelo in his statues). She is one of 6 Afrikan descendants in the U.S. to have open canonization causes with the Catholic Church. Currently, she remains a Servant of God.

In 2012, Catholic Priest, Father Blain Burkey authored a book entitled, “In Secret Service of the Sacred Heart: The Life and Virtues of Julia Greeley,” which later was adapted as a documentary film.

" My communion is my breakfast " - Mother Julia to the priests of her parish.

We pour libations & give her 💐 today as we celebrate her for her service to the city of Denver & for her patronage of all Black Catholics, firefighters, children & the homeless communities whom she served.

Offering suggestions: red wine, bread, catholic Bible, the Sacred Heart of Jesus, parish of denver badge, & little red wagons.

[natasha-in-space]

Mystictober Day 1 - favourite character/first date

Unknown/cmc Natasha Stakh (Mint Eye ver.)

Author's note: Woo! I more or less recovered from my flu, so albeit super late, I'm excited to get to work on my wips again ^^

Natasha stared at a huge mountain of ice cream with a variety of toppings, syrups, and decorations that reminded her of a Christmas tree or a careless drawing of a small child with its bright design. To say that all her preconceptions about the taste preferences of her boss crumbled to dust is to say nothing at all.

She could only gawk in genuine bewilderment at the gigantic dessert and the young man enthusiastically gobbling it up with no care in the world, paying absolutely no mind to her intense gaze. Rather, his interest was entirely focused on the specific person at the other end of the cafe, chatting away fervently with their friends over fresh cups of coffee.

Well, this is turning out to be a very fascinating scouting mission, there's no doubt about that.

After weeks of careful study and selection, Unknown finally approved on their future target, whose goal would be to stay in their Savior's former apartment and collect useful information on the RFA without their knowledge. However, before proceeding with the execution of their plan, they had to make sure that the decision being made was indeed perfect and that nothing could threaten the safety of their eternal paradise.

And so, here they are, roughly speaking, practically stalking this unfortunate soul at every twist and turn, monitoring any aspects of their daily life that may be useful to them in the future.

Going inside the cafe and having a bite to eat was her idea from the very beginning, given they had not eaten anything since early morning, and the alluring smell of freshly baked pastries and hot coffee coming from the doors of the establishment made her stomach growl so loudly that Unknown began to angrily grumble at her from his seat behind the wheel of an inconspicuous car. Fortunately, the Savior has given them a certain budget for all sorts of possible needs that may arise during their trip, and... why not take advantage of the rare opportunity to eat something other than the usual menu of Magenta, right? Plus, this way, they will be able to observe the target at a much closer distance, all while not drawing too much attention to themselves.

That is, except for her boss's eccentric attire, of course. Not to mention his fussy attitude due to his hunger which he stubbornly refused to acknowledge.

And although he realized that she was only trying to beg him for food in this roundabout way, after pondering over her offer for a couple of minutes, he reluctantly agreed, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her towards the cafe before she could say a word.

"For someone who's been buzzing my ears off about how she's supposedly starving, you're suspiciously unenthusiastic."

She twitched, suddenly realizing that she had been staring at him without any shame all this time, her mouth almost gaping.

Unknown arched an eyebrow in silent question, stuffing yet another portion of mint chocolate chip ice cream into his mouth, which... to be honest, looked quite comical when compared to the general menacing aura that he tried to exude with his whole appearance.

"Uh-"

She choked out, awkwardly clearing her throat and looking around, suddenly very aware of how public this place really is.

"...Ice cream doesn't quite fit the bill for a full meal, if I'm not mistaken, boss."

She murmured as she lazily scooped up an area of vanilla ice cream topped with strawberry syrup, before lifting it to her lips to taste the sweetness radiating on her tongue.

He huffed, crossing his legs and grabbing a particularly large raspberry from the top of the dessert.

"Tough luck, assistant, I'm not your chef - I'm your boss. So it seems like you have no choice but to listen to me... What a shame."

Cheeky bastard!

Natasha narrowed her eyes in clear annoyance, observing the sly smirk forming on his lips as he carelessly tossed a berry into his mouth with a cocky gleam sparkling in his piercing eyes. And just like that, he returned to his engrossing task of spying on their unfortunate victim as if nothing has ever happened. She sighed, clenching both hands into fists and gathering all of her self-control together so as to withhold her immense desire to bark back right in his face. They cannot attract unneeded attention to themselves, and he used this fact to his advantage, openly mocking her and not even trying to hide it.

She should have expected that he wasn't planning to just treat her to a delicious dinner out of the goodness of his heart.

And yet, the greedy rumbling of her stomach made her groan in shame and, having accepted her defeat, reach out for another portion of fresh ice cream. At least, it indeed tastes very impressive - much, much better than those samples that were stored back in Magenta. And mint ice cream was never really her favorite to begin with. In addition, Unknown very rarely shared his favorite dessert with her, preferring to leave her candy bars and occasional candies from his personal 'storage'.

Well, two can play this game. If he plans on getting a reaction out of her - he got another thing coming.

So, she shifted all of her focus to the cold dessert in front of her and continued quietly enjoying the pleasant sweetness on her lips, not putting up a fight. Contrary to his expectations, she was not making a fuss in the slightest. And, if initially, he stubbornly refused to be distracted from his task, after some time of relative silence between them, his puzzled gaze stealthily darted in her direction, immediately turning back, as if nothing had happened in the first place. If it weren't for her careful observation of his every move right now, she wouldn't even notice this momentary movement from him.

To his failure, however, she saw through his indifferent facade, and now it was her turn to take matters into her own hands.

So, pretending that she was simply reaching out for yet another portion of sweet ice cream, she moved her leg under the table just enough to gently push his knee with her own, immediately moving back and putting on an act of this collision being just an unfortunate accident and nothing more. Unknown shuddered, this time giving her a rather irritated look without trying to hide it. This was a clear warning to her. However, she only shrugged nonchalantly, chewing on a tart blueberry with a pleased expression forming on her face.

"It's not my fault you refuse to just move our 'dinner' to the middle of the table, boss. Or do you want to feed me?"

Natasha rested her chin on her palm as her face broke into a cunning grin, comparable only to that of the Cheshire cat himself. Oh yes, she was shamelessly teasing him, taking advantage of their public setting, just as he had done to her mere moments earlier.

Of course, she would pay for it later - she understood that very well. No matter how much she played on his nerves, at the end of the day, it was he who held the most power over her, and she was completely helpless against this one simple fact. But like hell she will let him treat her like this without putting up a fight in the process!

A low growl came from his throat, like some kind of threat of the danger she was putting herself into by such careless behavior. Too bad for him, she pretended not to hear that distinct sound and continued pushing through, without a single sign of doubt in her elegant posture. She looked like a sly cat, planning on pushing a valuable object off the table right in front of her owner without any second thoughts.

"You're walking a very. thin. line. idiot."

He had to lower his voice to a low hiss, and she couldn't help but rejoice at the realization that she had successfully turned the tables on him. Normally, he would have already cornered her by now, towering over her and doing everything to show her who was really playing the strings here. However, right now, if he, let's say, tried grabbing her by the wrist, he would attract excessive attention to himself in an instant, which he understood perfectly.

Oh, she got him good. Looks like Unknown does not enjoy the taste of his own medicine. How charming.

She giggled, playfully arching an eyebrow and sliding her foot under the table yet again, this time hooking it under his own. He twitched, clasping his fingers on the surface of the table until his knuckles turned white, all while burning holes into her with an angry scowl on his face. If stares could kill, she'd probably be dead right where she was sitting in one second flat.

"Come now, don't act so grumpy on our first date. I might feel hurt, you know?"

She was only playing around, and yet, a pale blush creeped out on her cheeks as she purred out her sweet taunts, pursing her lips in a small fake pout.

He grimaced, crossing his arms across his chest and huffing in clear amusement.

" 'Date?' Is that what you think this is, princess?"

By this point, both of them had long since forgotten about their 'mission', too engrossed in this imaginary game of wits between themselves.

Natasha tucked a long lock of hair behind her ear in false bashfulness, fluttering her lashes up at him. Her voice dropped to a sweet murmur.

"Well, you can't blame me, right? Here we are, sitting across from each other in a cozy little cafe, sharing a huge ice cream. I'm pretty sure this one is meant for couples to share, considering its design."

This time, he was the one choking on his words and glancing around in bewilderment. She had to fight back a fit of laughter that was bubbling up in her chest. Of course, he had no idea about such nuances of the 'outside world - it's kind of adorable how he sincerely intended to enjoy this huge ice cream meant for two from the very beginning all by himself.

Before she could continue her sugary torture, however, they were both interrupted by a movement to the side, where MC was hugging their friends goodbye and packing up their things.

"..."

Well, this was fun while it lasted.

Their eyes followed their target as they both remained in somewhat awkward silence now, with half-finished ice cream slowly melting away in the middle. Before he could open his mouth to argue though, she waved him off, giving him a genuinely apologetic smile.

"C'mon, I can ask them to pack it up for us to-go. It's the least I can do for riling you up like that. And sorry. For teasing you, I mean. I promise I'm not going to wine if you decide to punish me this time. I totally deserve it."

She chuckled as she rose from her seat after him. However, before she could turn on her heels to walk towards the counter again, he stepped forward, grabbing her hands and tugging her closer to him.

Completely taken by surprise, she gasped, stumbling helplessly against his chest and looking up at him with a pair of dumbfounded mint eyes. She didn't expect him to do something like that in public! Nevertheless, to her utter distress, he leaned to the shell of her ear, sending small currents of warm air over the sensitive skin of her neck, which made her involuntarily tremble under his spell.

"Oh, you don't get to play coy with me now, pet. You made your intentions crystal clear to me, don't you agree on that? I'll show you what a true date with me looks like, just like you wanted... It's too late for you to back away now, so don't even think about escaping. You reap what you sow, greedy princess. It's about time for you to learn this simple lesson."

His husky undertone sent shivers down her spine, making her legs turn into jelly underneath her.

Oh... This is bad.

He snickered softly, clearly very amused with her flustered reaction, which did not help her vulnerable position at all.

But, this game was not over just yet.

Before he could step away and claim victory for himself, she leaned into him, fighting against the embarrassment bubbling up in her stomach, lacing their fingers together and rising on her tiptoes to get even closer.

"Well, give me all you got then, boss. But, since I'm a greedy princess now, I might as well try to have my cake and eat it too... So don't expect me to back down easily."

"..."

It seems this 'date' has gotten more and more bizarre with each minute passing by.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Magic | Joaquín Torres

✦ pairing — Joaquín Torres x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 4.2k

✦ request — I have another idea for a request where reader used to date Peter and then the blip happens and she doesn’t disappear so when he’s back she’s dating Joaquin.

✦ warnings — angst, mentions of loss, mentions of grief, mentions of teen sex, suggestive content, drama, a breakup, familial issues, fluff.

✦ author's note — well, I promised this would be my next Joaquín story, didn’t I?

════════════════════════

His hand was warm against your lower back, breath giving you goosebumps as he spoke almost in your ear so you could hear him.

You almost declined when your friends invited you out for drinks at the bar near campus and now you were considering buying a thank you gift for each of them.

“They’ll hate me,” Joaquín lowly said, talking about your friends who were still on the table.

You were only supposed to be asking for another drink, then he got closer and shattered the plan. If only he wasn’t so fucking handsome and if only you didn’t feel so fucking lonely.

“They’re pretty chill,” you assured him.

His hand traced your back, moving to your waist as he brought you closer. “Even if I’m stealing you away?”

“Who says that wasn’t their plan?”

He laughed softly and you swore his eyes twinkled. Those same eyes boldly stared down at your mouth.

You wanted to feel his hands on every inch of your body, to explore his undoubtedly gorgeous one. It had been a long time since you gave into attraction, mostly out of respect.

Respect for the past, for the dead, for your first love, for your childhood friends, for your mother and your brother.

You respected them in life, too, you cared for them and loved them deeply. Now you missed them every day.

But the kind of respect you specifically held for your late boyfriend wouldn’t bring him back. Peter was gone and you needed to go on with your life, as much as you wished you had had more time with him.

Joaquín might not have been the answer that would change your life, but fuck, he was handsome and charming — and he wanted you.

You pressed yourself against him, leaving shame and guilt for another day, a day in which you weren’t so desperate for somebody’s touch.

His eyes were on your mouth still, and although you thought he didn’t have to ask for permission, he prefaced the question by saying, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I introduced myself.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Can I?” he breathily asked, “right here? Right now?”

You timidly nodded, yet it didn’t feel entirely plausible until his lips touched yours.

The moment your back hit the bed, you realized you had never felt real touch before. You had never been touched so fervently, so eagerly.

You weren’t sure if it was because he was a man and not a teenager or due to his personality — he seemed fairly enthusiastic back at the bar, but who knew.

His eager roughness as he explored your body made you feel smaller than him even though you would never fool yourself into thinking you were. He might have been muscular and athletic, surely due to his training —after all, he mentioned being part of the Air Force—, but he wasn’t one of those big scary men that lurked in corners.

But you liked it. For once you were allowed to feel fragile yet not powerless. After years of loneliness and fending off for yourself, it was more than nice to know you still could be seen as desirable without feeling like a victim.

His lips, busy on your neck, were such a nice distraction from the gripping worry all around you. He patiently caressed every inch, pressing wetter kisses over time.

“You like that?” he asked, mouth grazing your skin.

You hummed.

“You can use your words, you know?”

“I just—“ Oh, this was embarrassing. You found no use in the fact that you weren’t a virgin when you were still acting like one. With all those years you went without sex, you might as well count as a virgin again — it wasn’t like you and Peter had sex more than twice either way. “I don’t want to kill the mood,” you confessed.

He lifted his face and smiled at you. “It’s okay.” He softly kissed your lips in assurance, hands tracing your thighs up and down from on top of the denim of your jeans. “I like hearing you talk.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He went back to the spot he’d been kissing before and nibbled on it.

You let out a whimper.

Joaquín repeated the action. “That sounds wonderful too.”

Come morning and you found yourself unable to move. You didn’t remember cuddling him to sleep, but his arms were now tight around you.

Waking him up would be a crime when he was sleeping so peacefully and it would only make everything much more awkward.

Perhaps if you faked being asleep he would leave without a word.

You had never done this before. The only reason you knew the so-called protocol after a one-night stand were your friends who would surely be thrilled to know you had finally caved in.

Joaquín stirred awake, withdrawing his arms from your body to stretch.

After a moan, he groggily said, “G’morning.”

You laid on your back. “Hi.”

He went back to his previous position, on his side, facing you. Shifting to look at him, you caught him looking around your room.

“Looking for a way out?”

He huffed a laugh. “No.” Joaquín’s gaze fell on you and he reached over to brush something off your cheek with his index finger. “Should I?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.”

He showed you the eyelash he had gotten off your cheek. “Make a wish.”

“Really?” you asked, amused.

“Come on,” he encouraged you. “You don’t have to tell me what it is.”

Did you have any wishes left? Well, perhaps one — you wished you could be happy, at least content with your life.

You blew on his finger so the eyelash would fly off. “There.”

He rested his hand on your cheek. “I hope it comes true.”

Unable to stop yourself, you smiled at the sentiment. He smiled back, warm and big, eyes full and dimples prominent.

It amazed you that somebody with his line of work could smile so earnestly.

The smile, however, fell when his cellphone rang.

He grunted. “Duty calls.”

You nodded, unsure as to what to say now.

But he did. “Can I see you again?”

“Yes.”

“As a date?” he asked, hopeful.

“Yes.”

════════════════════════

A date turned into another one and another one until you saw him every chance you had.

Joaquín would even pick you up from work just to get a few more minutes with you. It was overwhelming at first, you had forgotten what it felt like to get this much attention, but the more it happened, the more you liked it.

Getting to know him little by little was pure magic, distinguishing his amused laugh from the one that came from his belly, finding out he’s a Grateful Dead fan, memorizing his usual order at the café he showed you on your first date…

He was magic.

Joaquín’s cheers were the loudest when you graduated, his congratulatory embrace the warmest.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said. And you believed him.

He was much more than your partner when you didn’t expect to find a partner when you moved to Las Vegas in the first place.

Standing in front of your full mirror, you tried to decide which dress to wear. Black was classic, but you felt too sad already to be wearing that.

Your friends would be there, that should have been enough to cheer you up. But the truth hovered over you like a cloud — not all of your friends would.

Even Flash should have been there. But life was cruel.

You heard the entrance door open and close which meant you would either have to become the best liar in the world or talk to Joaquín. He was the only other person who had a key to your place.

He stood in the doorway, watching you. His stare, always flattering, felt heavy. He was analyzing you.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” He rested his hands on your shoulders. “Look at me.”

“I wish mom was here too.”

He wrapped his arms around your neck, humming to encourage you to continue talking.

“I miss her. And I miss my brother. So much, Joaquín. I miss my other friends too and…” And Peter, you missed Peter Parker and his lame jokes.

“And…”

“I—“ you tilted your head. “Promise you won’t get mad?”

“I promise.”

Taking him by the waist, you brought him with you to sit on the bed. He withdrew his arms from you and let you get comfortable.

“When everybody… disappeared…” You felt strange talking about this. Ah, the dreaded ‘ex talk’. “I was dating a classmate when it happened. We were friends first, almost inseparable; mom said it was meant to be.”

“He disappeared?”

You nodded. “I’m the only one in my class that didn’t. I had the hope that Peter hadn’t either, but it became clear he did.”

“That’s his name?”

“Yeah. I— I don’t miss him that way. I just miss him in like general.”

“It’s okay, I get what you mean.”

“You’re not mad?”

“God, no. Grief… takes many shapes, I’ve learned it the hard way. It’s okay to miss him, it’s normal.”

“You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead. “You’re the nicest thing that has happened to me.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you rested your head on his shoulder. Joaquín hugged you against him, content with sharing a silent moment with you.

You didn’t want to waste the limited time you had with him by being sad. He was often busy and your work got in the way sometimes too.

“Should I wear the black dress or that red one I told you about?”

“Why don’t you model the red one for me?” he cheekily suggested.

Magic indeed.

════════════════════════

Your hands trembled as you paid the taxi driver.

Joaquín couldn’t be there to steady you. He wanted to, but they needed him at work. Of course they did, this was insane.

He promised he would join you as soon as possible.

Gripping your purse, you introduced the key in with your other hand. The door opened before you could turn the key.

There your mom stood, looking just the way you remembered. You threw yourself into her arms and wept into her shoulder as a child would.

Somebody took your keys and closed the door. They then placed their hand on your upper back and you just knew it was your little brother.

Your mom and you made way for him to join in the embrace. You couldn’t discern your sobs from theirs, feelings were so raw that you stopped trying.

“Where were you?” your brother asked.

“Uhmm… why don’t we sit down?”

“Everything’s dusty,” your mom observed.

“That’s my fault,” you admitted. “I moved and—“

“You what?”

“Mom, please.”

“You had the house all for yourself!”

“Exactly! It was too much, and college was too expensive!”

She sighed, nodding. Your mom had always been adamant about college, mostly because she didn’t have a degree.

The doorbell rang. You turned to the side, silently asking if they were expecting somebody else. Your brother huffed a laugh, yet he didn’t move to open the door — neither did your mom.

You pulled the door open. Brown eyes bore into yours, just not the brown eyes you were longing for. Not anymore.

Peter wrapped his arms around you, making you stumble as you tried to react.

Frozen as Peter clung to your waist, you saw your mom close the door.

Hesitant, you hugged him by the shoulders. His embrace tightened, he squeezed you against him in the way you used to fantasize he would if he was still there.

“You smell good,” you awkwardly complimented him as you pulled away.

“Thanks. Uhmm, you look…”

“Older?” you helped him out.

“I was trying to compliment you,” he clarified, humor seeping into his voice. “You look pretty.”

You didn’t want to cry again so you looked away. He moved to greet your mom and your brother, prompting you to check your phone just to avoid looking at either of them.

Joaquín hadn’t texted you, but it wasn’t like you had been expecting him to do so.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you came across an e-mail from work.

Your reaction gained everybody’s attention.

“What did you do?” your brother playfully asked.

“Nothing,” you defended yourself. “Just... work stuff.”

Peter coughed, almost choking on his saliva. “You graduated?”

“Uhmmm, yeah.” You locked your phone after typing a quick reply to your boss. “From college too.”

“You got into MIT?”

“No, no. I moved to Las Vegas.”

“Are you... wait, this is a joke, right?”

“Tuition was cheaper.”

“Baby, MIT was your dream.”

“Please don’t...”

MIT wasn’t even your dream, it was his. You were going to follow him there because he was dreamy and you were a dumb teen in love.

Peter took your hand, trying to stop you from leaving the room. With a sigh, you stood still.

“Hey...” He tugged on your hand.

Shaking your head, you slipped your hand off his. “I—”

You couldn’t find the right words. How do you break up with somebody you thought was dead?

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded in a small voice.

“Why not?”

“I just...” You cleared your throat. “Peter, we are not... a thing anymore.”

“Look, I know some time went by, bu—”

You interrupted him, not interested in being reminded of what you lost and wouldn’t get back, “I’m dating somebody else.”

His face fell, brows furrowing as he blinked rapidly. “For how long?”

“A little over a year.”

“You’ve been with them for longer than we...?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

Your mom took your brother by the arm. Before you could ask if something was wrong, she guided him upstairs.

Peter avoided your eyes as he asked, “Do you like them?”

“A lot,” you honestly replied.

“More than you liked me?”

“It’s different, Pete.”

He nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets. “We’re still friends, right?”

You chuckled. “In a way, I guess.”

The moment Peter left, you allowed yourself to cry. Closing that cycle was for the best, but you would never stop wondering what could have been.

With a deep sigh, you wiped your tears and went upstairs to ask your mom if she wanted help cleaning up the house.

Your brother busied himself with his own room while you helped your mom with hers.

Loading the washing machine, you checked your phone again. This time Joaquín had texted you, asking how you were doing.

You felt too needy once you sent your reply asking if you could FaceTime later, but he said yes so you went on with your tasks knowing you would get to see his handsome face in a few hours.

Your mom’s eyes were on you as you dusted the kitchen cabinets. Her presence was distracting, she was supposed to be cleaning the living room.

“So what’s his name?”

“Mmh?”

“Or hers? Theirs?”

“Oh! His name’s Joaquín.”

She hummed. “Tell me about him.”

“He’s great,” you gushed, “he’s kind, he’s funny, we have interests in common...” You breathed out a laugh. “He’s also really handsome.”

“How serious is it?”

“Very. We’re steady.” You hoped you were right about that.

The fact that she looked saddened upon hearing that broke your heart.

“Peter and you were meant to be.”

“Back then, maybe. But an adult already out of school doesn’t have anything in common with a high schooler.”

“Your new boyfriend is older than you, isn’t he?”

“A few years older, yeah. But it’s not the same, you and I both know that.”

“It’s just not fair. Did you see his face?”

You did. But it also hadn’t been fair for you to have to become independent and be all by yourself in the blink of an eye.

It wasn’t their fault, but why did you have to take the blame when it wasn’t yours either?

“He’ll find somebody else,” you assured her.

“What if he doesn’t want to?”

“Mom.”

“You were so cute together!”

“I guess things happen for a reason.”

“This new guy... what does he do?”

“He’s an Air Force lieutenant and an intelligence officer.” Realizing she hadn’t called him by his name, you added, “And his name is Joaquín.”

She looked apologetic as she asked, “When am I meeting him?”

“I’ll ask him.”

You were even more eager to talk to him now. You knew his grandma was dead, and up until that morning, you had assumed your family was too so the topic of meeting the family never came up.

It was a scary thought. What if he didn’t want to? You wouldn’t blame him if he wasn’t ready, but it would hurt.

Offering to finish cleaning up the kitchen, you assured your mom she could go to bed. You would sleep on the couch for the night.

The incoming call made you giddy. You sat on your bed for the night and accepted the request for a video call, remaining silent in case there was some lag.

Joaquín’s pretty face filled your screen. He was already in bed from what you could see. His hair was wet, but unlike what he had you used to, he was wearing a t-shirt.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hi, baby,” he tiredly greeted you.

“Everything okay?”

He made a face. “As okay as it can be.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just...” He sighed. “It’s all a mess. Have you seen the news?”

You shook your head. “I got an e-mail from work, though, people are buying life insurance like crazy.”

“Some people have found out they were evicted while they were gone and other people are living there now.”

“Fuck...”

“Yeah.”

“You think my landlord did that?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He shifted, laying on his side. “How’s your family?”

“Mom’s lucky dad left us the house.”

“Well, I’m glad about that.” He smiled. “But what else?”

You exhaled and shrugged. “It was a lot to take in for everybody. They say they’re okay, nothing happened to them, they only remember feeling weird for a moment...”

Joaquín hummed, encouraging you to go on. God, he knew you so well.

“I don’t know how to tell them the entire world is in crisis, and I also don’t want to tell them about everything that happened when they were gone.” You licked your lips and swallowed your spit. “It must feel so weird to know years passed here when no time at all passed for them.”

“I guess they were dead in a way,” Joaquín explained, “so it’s weird, but it makes sense.”

You frowned.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“It’s fine, you’re right. It’s just... insane. This is insane.” You tilted your head. “Mom wants to meet you, by the way.”

“It’ll have to wait a bit,” he lamented. Joaquín shifted again, changing the angle as he sat up.

“You’re getting deployed,” you asserted.

“Next week.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Dumb question,” you laughed. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Coming back so soon?”

“I gotta get back to work, I was lucky they let me come see my family.”

“You got a plane ticket already?”

“Yeah.”

“Send me the details and I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

“I’ll let you get some sleep.”

He tiredly hummed. “Get some rest, I love you.”

Your heart fluttered upon hearing his sleepy voice telling you he loved you. You would never get tired of it. “I love you too.”

════════════════════════

This was the closest you had been to running away from home. Your mom was disappointed that you couldn’t stay for longer and your brother didn’t understand why you would leave in the first place.

You promised to call daily and invited them to visit you and stay over at your place, but it didn’t feel like it was enough. It certainly wasn’t for them.

There was nothing that could make you change your mind, though. You could visit, they could visit — the adjustment period would be awkward, but you knew they would get used to it. God knows you had.

Joaquín was there by the time you disembarked. He smiled at you as you approached him. He had a cup in a hand and his cellphone in the other.

Sliding his cellphone into his pocket, he handed you the cup. “It’s your favorite.”

You took the disposable cup in your free hand. The smell of sweet coffee filled your senses — mixed with Joaquín’s aftershave, it reminded you exactly why you were making the right call.

You told him everything that happened the day before, including your conversation with Peter. And in exchange, he told you everything he could speak about regarding work.

He also went into more details about how the local government was handling everything. It wasn’t promising or encouraging.

The first thing you did upon arriving at your apartment was taking a shower. The fresh change of clothes and the comforting smell of your body wash eased the tension on your neck and shoulders.

Joaquín rested his head on the armrest of the couch, going through his phone. Hearing your steps, he announced, “I ordered some food.”

Humming, you plugged your cellphone in to charge.

“Tired?”

You nodded, sitting down next to him. “I imagine you’re actually exhausted, though.”

Joaquín wrapped an arm around your neck and drew you closer. “I’m used to it.”

So he was worried. It was the last thing you wanted. You buried your fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp. He leaned into your touch, as he often did, sighing while putting his phone away.

“We need to talk.”

You shifted in order to gaze at him. “I don’t like the way that sounds.”

He softly said your name. “‘m not breaking up with you.”

“But?”

“It’s not a but per se. I just want to know... what are you going to do?”

“While you’re deployed?”

“No, no, I mean it like... are you moving back to New York or are you staying here?”

“I’m staying here. You are here, my job is here, my friends are here... why would I not stay?”

“I’ll have to move in like two years,” he reminded you. “What are we gonna do then?”

You were steady, it wasn’t your imagination. God, you were. “We’ll make a decision when we get there.”

“But is this what you want?”

“You?”

He softly nodded.

“Of course you’re what I want,” you said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Because it was.

“Move with me,” he blurted. “I mean, I guess I can move here with you, but it’s kinda small for the two of us.” Your lack of response prompted him to add, “If you want, of course. No pressure.”

You were too surprised to settle on the answer you wanted to give so you spilled the question nagging at you, “You want to live off base?”

“Yes.”

“With me?”

He nervously looked at you. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“That sounds wonderful,” you admitted. “I would love that.”

Joaquín smiled. So big and so bright, warm and almost childlike as his gaze filled with glee.

You looked into his glistening eyes and found yourself at peace. Leaning in, you brushed his nose with yours before angling your face. Joaquín pressed his lips to yours, curling his arm around your neck as he shuffled on the couch to not hurt his back.

Knocking on the door forced you to cut the kiss short.

“Must be the food,” he commented in a low voice, lips still close to yours.

You moved off him as he slid his arm off you. Both of you stood up at the same time, but Joaquín insisted on getting the food himself.

Walking towards the kitchen as he opened the door, you smiled to yourself. You weren’t even sure which type of drink you would need, you never asked what he ordered, but you suddenly felt energized and needed to do something other than staring at him.

He stood behind you, having placed the food on the table. You craned your neck to look at him, opening your mouth to ask what he wanted to drink.

He spoke first. “We’ll go apartment hunting when I’m back from deployment.” He gave you another kiss, this time a short one. “Or house hunting, whatever you want.”

“I’m okay with either one.” You were okay with anything as long as he was beside you.

“First thing will do when I’m back will be visiting your family, then everything else.”

You opened the fridge so he would get the hint about the drinks. “You sure? They can wait.”

“I already feel bad for not going with you yesterday.” Joaquín took a couple of beers in one hand, securing them between his fingers as he closed the fridge.

“I think that was for the best. Mom wouldn’t have reacted well.”

He placed the bottles onto the table, eyes still on you. With a serious expression, he asked, “You think she’ll like me?”

“Everybody loves you, babe.”

“But will she, though?”

“She will, I promise.” She had to, how could she not?

He pulled a chair for you to sit down. “My grandma would have loved you.”

You adored when he talked about his grandma. “Yeah?”

He hummed. “Not as much as I love you, that’s impossible; but close enough.”

You giddily laughed as you sat down. He always said it so easily and earnestly — and it never failed to make you feel warm and fuzzy.

He was magic, and yours. And he loved you.

[systlinsideblog]

Part 6

There was a terrible disorientation, darkness, pressure, and then he was lying facedown on something soft. He flinched as a familiar weight thunked against the back of his thighs; his shield. His sword was still in hand; he was gripping it tightly, out of pure instinct.

Somewhere above him was movement, and the sound of a sword being half drawn, and then a gasp. He recognized the distinctive traits of all three; and decided to simply lie there a bit yet. He had a raging headache suddenly, and there was no danger he could think of that could possibly get through his wife to harm him.

“Foicatch!?” She sounded shocked. There was a soft thump as Ice hit the soft rugs beneath them, and then hands on him, on the back of his shoulders and on his cheek. “Beloved?”

“Fuck.” He said into the carpets. With some effort, he pulled himself up to his knees and took a look around, instinctively taking in his surroundings and the lay of the land.

A tent of some sort, on a wooden platform. A wagon, most likely, judging from the slight give and sway. A large camp, from the noises outside. The tent was rich; gold and jewels glittered in lamplight, and the pallet he was on was of rich, soft carpets and furs. He did not recognize any of it, but was again not surprised. Gods played games with his wife’s life, and wherever she was he knew in his bones that she’d soon rise to the top.

Quite suddenly, arms were around his neck, and Systlin was clinging to him in a bone-creaking embrace. He started, surprised; she was normally a reserved woman, but now she was acting as if she’d not seen him in weeks.

“Sys.” He said weakly. “Sys. Darling. What…”

“Is Senna all right?” She pulled back and stared at him, her eyes bright, desperate. “Is she all right?”

“Of course she is. You saw her half an hour ago.” Foicatch rubbed at his aching temples. “What the fuck was that?”

Her whole body seemed to relax, almost slumping with abject relief, and she pulled back a little, but left one hand on his knee. “For me,” she said. “It’s been three months.”

He blinked a couple of times. “What.”

“Three months.”

“How…”

“The Lady.” When he’d been a boy, he’d never dreamed that he’d ever hear someone make such a matter of fact sort of statement about the Lady, Mother of All. Let alone that he would be married to that person, and that such a statement would make utter sense. “We’re on a world called Gor.” A slight pause. “’Catch, love, you’ve no clue how happy I am to have you here. This place is a shithole.”

“It can’t be that bad.” He waved a hand around at the tent. “This seems nice.”

“I had to kill three thousand men to unfuck this one tribe.” She said bluntly. “And it’s still not really done; that was just lancing the boil. ’Catch, the men of this world are slavers. All of them, from what I can tell, or at least most. They keep women as sex toys.”

Foicatch stared at her for a solid minute or so, appalled.

“What.” He finally managed.

It took her half an hour to fill him in on the details. By the end, his headache was fading, but a second one was threatening on his heels. He’d gotten to his feet some time back, and he was incandescently furious and pacing the tent. (The Ubara’s tent. He felt a flash of pride, at that. Of course she was Ubara; queen by her own hand within a day. He’d expect nothing less of her, and marveled, again, that such a woman as her had chosen him.)

He stopped his pacing long enough to touch her face, to brush her plait back. “You said you killed three thousand that first night.”

“Yes.” She said. The word was a flat statement of fact.

“You must have used your power.”

“Yes.” Again, a statement of fact.

“Are you all right?” He asked it softly. She never admitted to anyone else save Sura the cost of her gift for Breaking, the strain it caused when used too much. But he knew, because she trusted him.

“I am.” She covered his hand with hers. “I told you once; it gets easier to restrain it, with practice. And I’ve had a lot of practice. And the women…” She looked off, at the tent flap. “They’re remarkable. All they’ve been through, and survived. Many are brilliant, and funny, and kind, and fierce. They’ve not let me stew alone.”

He nodded, relieved. Do not let her be alone, Sura had told him once. Sura, bright, brilliant Sura, who’d realized before anyone else living what Systlin was, that there’d come a Breaker strong enough to break even her curse to her will.

They stood there for a moment. She stepped into his arms, and leaned against his chest. He looped his arms around her waist, and let her take comfort as long as she needed it.

At last, he said “So you’ve been gone months, but it’s been but moments at home.”

“Thank the gods.” Systlin’s voice was muffled by his chest. “I’ve been so, so worried, about you and Senna.”

“It’s reasonable then to assume that however long we take here, little or no time will have passed at home.”

“Thank the gods.” She said again, fervent.

“Well.” He said. “We might as well make a proper job of it then. Why don’t you show me around, Ubara?”

   He was a very tall man, broad and muscular and strong, a fighting man in true. He wore a sword and shield with the air of a man long accustomed to their use. His eyes were green, and sharp. His hair fell to his shoulders, caught back in a leather tie. His beard was braided into a short plait bound in silver.

This is a proper man, I thought, but then to my horror I saw the glint of silver in his ear.

A man….a man, a fighting man! Had allowed his ear to be pierced! It was shameful, beyond shameful.

The she-sleen emerged from the wagon behind him. She said something, and he turned to listen. I realized that the ring in his ear was a twin to the silver one she wore, and in a flash realized that this was her mate, the one she’d claimed to be bonded to.

He laughed at something she said, and she grinned at him.

 I thought that I had seen the she-sleen fight, that day she had slain Kamchak, Ubar of the Tuchuks.

I had not. Not truly. I had realized, of course, that she had been toying with him, toying with a Tuchuk, known as the fiercest and cleverest of warriors. But I had not known, not really, what she was.

I stared as she sparred the man…her husband, it still was a thing of horror to think of bedding such a woman, but if there was a man to master such a woman then I could believe it of this man.

He was magnificent. It was hot; he had stripped to his waist, baring a marvelously formed body to the sun. There were scars here and there, showing that he was a fighting man and had won many battles. His eyes were fierce and keen, and he wielded that metal shield and his sword as easily and lightly as if they were wooden toys, muscles rippling under taut bronze skin. He was fast, as fast as a snake, and his footwork was superb. Any city would have been honored to have a fighting man such as he in their ranks; I am man enough to admit that in battle he could have bested me, and it would have been no shame to lose to such a superb warrior.

But then there was her.

He was magnificent, the pinnacle of what a fighting man strives to be. And out of the three bouts I saw them fight, he lost two.

He was fast. But she was like the speed of a falcon bound into the body of a woman, and made the swordplay look almost as a dance. She would, I thought, have been magnificent in dancing silks.

She flowed like water around strikes. She was, quite nimbly, never where a strike seemed to go, and used her blades with the precision of a physician excising a tumor. Her stamina seemed boundless; indeed, even under the heat of the sun she was not even sweating.

The first match ended after what seemed an impossibly long time to hold out against either of those displays of masterful swordsmanship, with his sword at her breast. My heart soared; surely, I thought, now he would put her in her place, teach her what it meant that he was a man, and she but a female…

But it did not happen. She laughed, and he grinned, a brilliant flash of white teeth.

“See what I mean?” She said, and rolled her shoulders, stepping back. “I’ve needed this. There’s no one here who can really test me, and I’ve been getting sloppy.”

The comment stung; she’d faced the whole of the Tuchuk, and me, a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba!

He snorted. “The Lady should have brought Stellead here if that was what you needed; a training dummy and someone to teach.”

“Hm.” She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye that shocked me; it was playful, and warm, and very unlike the coldness she usually showed. I wondered if there was a slave under that armor after all, but then of course that could not be; no self respecting man would let a woman who was his slave on the couches and in the furs carry on so in public. “No, I think I’m glad. You are much better looking.”

“Well.” He smiled again. “With all due respect to your lovely and very terrifying aunt, I must agree.”

There were more like her? The thought was horrific. But then they crossed swords again, and I could only watch.

She won that second bout, and the third. At the end of the third, they were staring at each other with a particular heat in their eyes that I knew well; I have seen lust, in many forms.

I was shocked again when she grasped the end of the short plait of his beard, pulled his head down with no great gentleness, and kissed him as thoroughly and passionately as a slave girl might.

I had thought that she must be frigid, in denial of her own womanhood, wishing to be a man and putting from her head all thought of licentiousness and lust. And yet here I saw her, dusty from the training ring, her sword still in her hand, still as unyielding as steel, her movements and body language all sureness and authority, and kissing like a passion slave.

It was shocking, as well; she was demanding of him, not begging, and instead of silks she was attired entirely unflatteringly in leather and wool. And yet somehow the magnificent warrior seemed as enthusiastic about this embrace as a Gorean man with a pleasure slave at his mercy.

She pulled back, but did not let go of his beard or break eye contact. “My tent, I think.” Her voice was all anticipation. “You can leave the boots on.”

“Only if you leave the sword belt on.” He took her hand, and they were gone.

A wagon is not really the most sound-proof of dwellings. Out of some terrible fascination, I drifted towards the wagon of the Ubara.

The noises were loud, and enthusiastic. They lasted quite some time. At times, it sounded as if a pitched battle was taking place within the wagon. It was, indeed, some hour and a half before the she-sleen emerged at last from the wagon. She looked quite pleased with herself. Her hair had been freshly plaited, and she was wearing new clothing. She headed off again towards the training fields, humming some tuneless little song to herself.

Foicatch exited the wagon some time later. He looked the way that a man only does after he has been well and thoroughly pleased. He had put on a tunic, but it was not laced up the front, and his magnificent musculature was still visible through the thin cloth anyways. He was eating a sar fruit. There were imprints of small, even teeth several places on his neck, I saw, and scratch marks down one forearm. He seemed equally pleased with himself.

He saw me staring, and gave me a wide grin. It was quite a smug grin.

“Jealous?” He laughed quietly, drew another sar fruit from his belt pouch, and tossed it my way; I caught it on reflex. “Can’t say I blame you. She’s magnificent, isn’t she?” He looked off in the direction of the practice rings, his expression fond.

“I would think,” I said. “That in going to bed with such a creature, you would risk death should you be found wanting.”

“Oh.” His grin grew wider. “Well, that’s gotten around already? It’s true, actually. She does kill lovers she finds unsatisfying.”

“Foicatch!” A sharp voice, as the she-sleen appeared again, and shook her head at her mate. “You are terrible.”

“Likes to nail the skulls up in the bedroom, just for motivation to any new ones.”

“Foicatch!”

“What? I’m only adding to your legend.”

She rolled her eyes, and gave him a look that was both fond and exasperated. “Terrible.” She vanished back into the wagon. “The council will be here soon to discuss strategy for gathering resources on the migration route. There’s many small towns and cities along the way, and I don’t intend to leave a single whip unburnt in our path.”

“And before you ask,” Foicatch said, as she vanished. “Yes, we’ve been married for thirty years.” A self satisfied grin. “Take from that what you will.”

I stared at him.

“What? Shut your mouth before a bird nests in there, man.”

“You…” I struggled for words. “But you are…you’re a red-blooded fighting man!”

A slight shrug. “Last time I checked, yes.” He finished the fruit.

“And you let your woman be…that?”

“Ah.” His expression shifted in a moment, going dark. “Right.” He gave me a disgusted sort of look. “To begin, there’s nothing on this world or any other that could make Systlin be anything but whatever she wishes to be; she’s herself, and that is why I love her.” The frown deepened. “Just because you lot on this world can only handle women fawning at your feet and fearing for their lives if they say one word against you, doesn’t mean we’re all such cowards on all worlds.”

That struck me deeply. I am many things, but a coward I have never been! I am a fighting man of Ko-Ro-Ba! I am a fighting man of Gor, where the strong rule!

“I am no coward!” I hissed, and had taken a step towards him before I knew it.

“Mmm.” He sounded unconvinced, and was entirely unconcerned at my anger. “Right. That’s why you keep women in chains.” He straightened a bit. I am a tall man, but he was taller, and I had to look up to stare angrily at him. Quite suddenly, in a flash, I wondered if this was how a slave girl felt, before a warrior such as myself, having to tilt her head back to look up at him. “Just because none of you can get a woman without buying her like a horse, chaining her to your bed, and beating her into submission…On my world, such a man would be ridiculed at the least and most pathetic of men.” A pause. “Well, and then executed. But also ridiculed.”

I stared. I had never heard it put so. “They are just women. They deserve no better”

I saw the blow coming, and moved to avoid it, but he was terribly quick and I was still recovering my full fitness since my broken leg. The strike across the face was sudden and sharp, and to my humiliation I realized that I had not been struck with a closed fist, as befitted a warrior, but backhanded like I was a misbehaving slave.

“Did that hurt?” His voice was low, and I realized that he was terribly angry. “Would you like it, to spend your life cringing, waiting for that at any moment because you did not stand correctly? It is braver, I think, to survive such a life than to be the monster who holds the other end of the chain. You are a coward, Tarl Cabot, and every man on this world is a coward if he thinks as you do. If you are afraid of women holding any role but your slaves, that is your failing, not that of men of other worlds.”

He spat in the dust at my feet. “Systlin said the men of this world were awful.” A shake of his head. “I didn’t realize how very much she was right. Go. Get away from this wagon. If I see you again today I might have to throttle you to death.” He turned, and ducked once more into the tent.

[sisterspooky1013]

Sound Conclusions

Rating:Explicit

Words: 3975

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Tagging @today-in-fic

Find it on AO3

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

2000

She hadn’t expected that her desire for him would only increase after she’d had him once. That first night, emboldened by loneliness and a little red wine, she’d found the courage to reach for him, to lean in to his desirous gaze, to walk them slowly to her bedroom between fervent kisses. It was an itch to be scratched, something that you could anticipate fading away once sated, but it hadn’t. Perhaps that was because it had exceeded even her most graphic fantasies about how it might be, the slip of his fingers inside her igniting nerve endings that her vibrator had never located when she had imagined his touch. The grip of his palms on her hips as she writhed, gasping, in his lap a detail she had never known to conjure. The depth of the growl in his throat when she told him she was going to come vibrating through her bones was a memory she couldn’t shake. The smell of his cum in her panties hours after he’d left her apartment had her breathless, wanting him again already, somehow more than she ever had before she knew the taste of his saliva and the scratch of his stubble against her nipples.

They’d arrived to work the following day and acted as though nothing had happened, pretending not to feel things being one of her specialties. She worked hard to mask the new way her pulse quickened when he touched her back, the visceral response she had to the smell of his breath when he leaned in to whisper a snarky comment during their weekly division briefing. She found herself getting lost staring at his hands while he took notes, remembering the way they stroked her insides, and then blushed when he asked her if she was okay. She knew, without a doubt, that she wanted him again. If he at any point had offered to take her right there on his desk, she wouldn’t have been able to say no. And yet, she was so careful to avoid giving him any indication of this, feeling embarrassed and guilty for such wanton desires, for objectifying her partner like this. The Catholic guilt a wet blanket on her newfound lust, suppressing her into the polished, poised, sexless FBI agent she had spent so much time working to be. Weeks passed, her need for him coursing through her veins like a drug, intoxicating her to the point she often forgot terms and concepts that she normally recalled easily, again prompting him to inquire as to whether she was feeling alright, noting that she didn’t seem like herself.

She wasn’t herself. She was a woman obsessed and fixated, aroused by the casual brush of a hand or the timbre of a laugh. She was sitting on the edge of a precipice, teetering between control and absolute abandon. Normally so securely in the driver’s seat of her own body, she was unnerved by the feeling that she barely had a grip on the wheel, that at any point she might let go and crash into him, revealing the truth that she needed human contact and sexual release just as much as anyone did. The vulnerability in that need made her feel unhinged.

She found herself trying to entice him, concurrently hating herself for stooping so low. She left an extra button on her blouse undone, put a switch in her hips when she walked ahead of him, brushed her own fingers across the skin of her neck in a way that would be unnoticeable in anyone else, but she caught him noticing from the corner of her eye. When she anticipated that he’d come by her apartment, she wore shorts or a low v neck shirt, forgetting a bra or sitting cross legged to reveal the milky insides of her thighs, inviting him, wordlessly, to taste them. Sometimes she thought she saw a flash of desire in his eyes, but he always composed himself quickly, sometimes making an excuse to leave. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he hadn’t tried again, that even when she did something as overt as leave her bedroom door open when she changed, he chivalrously averted his eyes. She realized it was unfair to expect him to understand, to know, what she wanted. Even if he did pick up on her painfully subtle, and occasionally obvious, signals, that didn’t mean he returned her feelings. Perhaps that night had been a mistake in his eyes, a slip up never to be repeated. The possibility that he would reject her if she risked reaching out to him again was enough to hold her back from doing so. Though he had enthusiastically participated the last time, that did not preclude him from having regretted it once it was over.

Now she stood before his closed apartment door on a Friday night, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. Not because she was nervous, but because she was on fire. Her pelvis twitched and her spine arched at the idea of being near him in a private space, where the possibilities that ran through her mind all day seemed more plausible. He’d invited her over for dinner and a review of some possible cases they might take on, so they could plan how to spend their time the following week. Since he’d made the proposal that morning, she’d convinced and then talked herself out of his ulterior motives countless times. She knew that working herself up into thinking that something would happen made it even harder, and she heard her grad school professor’s voice in her head saying “expectations are premeditated resentments, Dana.” Gathering her composure, she took a moment to hike her breasts up in her push up bra and tug her jeans up over her hips so that they were snug against her ass. She’d finally settled on jeans and a green T shirt, which felt appropriately casual, but she’d selected a shirt that was a little too snug and a little too low cut, jeans that were half a size too small and slung low on her hips. If she were to bend over the flesh of her back would be exposed, which gave her a tiny thrill. Any stranger on the street would never give her outfit a second glance; it was painfully basic and unremarkable. But for buttoned-up, proper Dana Scully, it was reckless and suggestive. She may as well have been wearing lingerie for how sexy it made her feel.

Putting on her game face, she knocked. From inside the apartment he called “it’s open” and she let herself in, setting her purse on his cluttered dining room table and scanning the adjacent rooms to locate him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor the living room, and she found herself standing in the doorway of his bedroom, eyes roving over his naked chest and belly, a towel slung low on his hips and his hair spiked and wet from the shower. She smirked a little, wondering if this were intentional. Given her recent antics it seemed entirely possible, so she took a risk and didn’t look away, allowing him to see her rake her eyes over him appreciatively, finally reaching his face where a knowing smile played at the corner of his lips. Those lips. She sighed and smiled back at him, and he glanced down her body and back up before saying “hey.”

“Hi” she returned, suddenly feeling shy. She averted her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll be out in a minute, this isn’t what I was planning to wear.”

“That‘s too bad” she said in her head. “Okay” is what came out of her mouth before she turned and went to sit on the couch, tortured by the knowledge that he was naked on the other side of the wall. Was she supposed to take that as an invitation? Was he trying to send her signals just as much as she was him? She suddenly remembered why she didn’t bother with dating; all the guesswork was exhausting.

He emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later in a black T shirt and jeans, his feet bare. He looked freshly shaved. “I ordered Italian” he said, sitting down beside her, only a sliver of space between the sides of their thighs. “Should be here in about an hour, they were really busy.” He smelled like soap and his old spice deodorant, mint on his breath. She figured he had played basketball after work and that explained the shower, but did he normally shave and brush his teeth before dinner? Her expectations were weaseling their way into her thoughts again. Stop, she told herself.

“Do you want a beer?” He asked, and she said yes a little too quickly. He opened a beer for each of them and she sipped it steadily, welcoming the way it would smooth the edges of her thoughts but not wanting to appear as though she were planning to get drunk. Mulder was a gentleman beyond gentlemen and wouldn’t dream of touching her if he thought she were incapacitated in any respect. This was a fact she appreciated generally, and resented presently.

They dug into a thin stack of case files, each leaning forward with their elbows braced on their knees. She watched out of her periphery to see if he was looking down her shirt, and bit her cheek to keep from smiling when she saw that he was at regular intervals. Within about 20 minutes they narrowed it down to three cases they’d dig into on Monday, revealing the fact that an entire evening together wasn’t necessary for such a task, but they were both grateful to set the case files aside and just exist outside of suit jackets and basement offices. Scully was sitting sideways, cross legged, with her back against the arm rest, her toes grazing Mulder’s leg as he sat beside her, his torso twisted slightly to face her. She held her nearly empty beer bottle in her hands, picking at the corner of the label with her fingernail.

“So” he said. She felt the prick of anticipation and the hairs on her arms stood at attention, on guard for whatever might come next.

“So” she responded, because what else was she to say?

He studied her intently, his hazel eyes traversing the terrain of her face, darting from eyebrow to lip to nose, searching her for something. Finally the unbroken attention made her so uncomfortable that she was willing to speak.

“What?” She asked him, keeping her tone neither accusatory nor annoyed, simply curious. “What are you thinking about?” it conveyed, without saying as much.

He took a deep breath and exhaled it forcefully. “Was it a mistake, what happened? Do you think of it that way?”

His speaking of the unspeakable caught her off guard and she felt her face flush immediately. “No” she said, but she couldn’t meet his eye. “No, I don’t think of it that way.”

“What was it then? One time thing? Random fluke?”

How he was able to speak so directly about such fraught topics was always a marvel to her. She opened her mouth to speak once, twice, but closed it again each time. What she wanted to say was that she didn’t know what it was supposed to be when she initiated it, but the second it was over she wanted it to be part of her daily routine, like brushing her hair. Finally she gave him a tiny shrug and an “I don’t know.” She hated herself for making it seem like she didn’t care, but she didn’t know how to be honest without sounding like a teenager with a crush.

He studied her face again, and she self consciously fussed with her hair, looking at anything but him. She could feel him thinking, strategizing. She could only hope his strategy ended with her naked in his lap, but she also realized that if that were to happen, she would have to make more of an effort outside of simply not getting up and leaving.

“Do you want it to happen again?” He asked, and she laughed out of surprise, biting her lip but not answering. She lifted her eyes to meet his and her stomach clenched when she saw the stoic expression on his face, his eyes full of self-doubt. She was an asshole for making him think for a second that she didn’t want him. They lingered there, locked in an impromptu staring contest, until Mulder reached out and took the empty beer bottle from her hands and set it on the coffee table. He then lightly grasped her wrist in one hand and pressed the middle and forefinger of his other hand to her pulse point. She knew what he was doing. Her heart, which was already racing, sped up to something resembling the beat of hummingbird wings. After a moment, he removed his fingers and brought his lips to kiss the spot they had just vacated.

“I realize things like this are hard for you to talk about, and I know you well enough to know that if the answer were no, you would have told me as much and high-tailed it out of here. So I’m going to take the fact that you’re still sitting here, as well as the fact that your heart is working triple time, to mean that it would be acceptable if I were to kiss you right now. Is that a sound conclusion?”

“It is” she said in a near whisper, every cell in her body reaching out for him like he was magnetized. They were still locked in eye contact, though with this new understanding it had shifted from awkward to intimate.

They both jumped at the sudden pounding on the door. “Marinos!” Someone called out from the other side, and Mulder stood and went to grab his wallet. While he was gone, Scully let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since she got here, and stood to use the bathroom. She studied her face in the mirror, sniff-checked her armpits, freshened up to be sure there were no errant toilet paper shreds clinging to her anatomy. When she opened the door, she found Mulder standing on the other side, waiting. She gave him a confused but also amused look.

“Hi” she said around a shy smile.

“Welcome back” he replied with a cool bravado, then stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands, drawing her in to a sweet kiss. She sighed into his mouth, the relief after weeks of tension pooling at her feet. She brought her hands to his neck and used his weight as leverage as she leaned her body against his, wanting him closer. In return, he stooped to grab the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. It was still light out, and without the cover of darkness or the clumsiness of a first time, she felt more powerful and in control. She knew he wanted her, and she knew what she wanted from him. He stepped the few feet towards his bed and gently lay her down, moving to plant kisses along her neck. Pushing the bottom hem of her shirt up to expose her belly, he asked “is this okay?” And she replied “you don’t have to ask, you can do whatever you want.”

“Fuck” he breathed. It was an expression of excitement, and nervousness, and amazement that she trusted him so perfectly, and wanted him so completely.

She sat up and he pulled her shirt off over her head, deftly un-hooking her bra before she slipped it down her arms and threw it over the side of the bed. He sucked a nipple between his teeth and she gasped, her hips bucking into him, her head falling back. He repeated it on the other breast and she whimpered, to which he pushed the bulge in his jeans against her thigh, seeking relief. She pulled at his shirt, signaling him to take it off, and he did in a split-second maneuver, not wanting to stray from his task for a moment longer than he had to. Kissing down her belly, he unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them forcefully off her hips and down her legs. His actions were desperate and hungry; he couldn’t wait to get at her, and she could not wait to be gotten. When he went to pull her panties off they ripped under his urgency and he tore them away, hooking his arms under her knees and pressing his face into her vulva as he drug her to the end of the bed.

“Jesus Christ” she called out, her hands threading into his hair as he lapped at her hungrily. She could not believe the speed with which she approached orgasm. She would never have described herself as someone who was easy to please in bed, and yet he seemed to locate every pleasure point on her body with admirable ease, slipping a finger inside her to massage her G spot as he sucked on her clit. She felt herself falling over the edge and she hung there deliciously long, the point of release laying across her like a blanket until it crashed against her like a wave.

“Oh, I’m gonna come” she pleaded, the sound more breath than words, as if he didn’t already know from his position on the seat of her orgasm that it was happening. She came for an eternity, unaware of her own sounds or movements, existing only within her body and beneath her pleasure. He stayed with her, teasing out every throb she had to give, running his rough hands over as much skin as he could reach, until she was sated, and lie still and quiet. He rested his head on the inside of her thigh and waited for a signal that she was ready to return to Earth. After a couple minutes, she spoke.

“Holy shit.”

He laughed, and crawled up to lie next to her, tucking his nose into her neck and placing tiny kisses all over her chest.

“I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I am completely naked” she said, a mix of self-consciousness and humor in her voice.

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down and then back up the length of her body. “You most certainly are” he said matter-of-factly, and she wrapped her arms across her chest in mock-modesty.

“You tore my underwear” she accused him, and he shrugged.

“Do you want to tear my underwear as payback?” He thrust his hips against her gently, and she was reminded that he had yet to be touched.

“Perhaps” she said against his lips, biting the lower one gently, signaling that they were not yet done. As she kissed him, she reached for the button of his jeans and flicked it open before easing down the zipper. He shifted up a bit to give her better access and breathed a low moan when she slipped her hand into his pants and grasped his erection.

“Mulder, I can’t help but notice that you’re not wearing underwear”

“Maybe if you’d had the same idea I wouldn’t have needed to rip them off” he teased breathlessly.

She pushed his jeans down and he stood to remove them before rejoining her, curling his naked body against her side as she resumed stroking him. “Come here” she directed, moving her leg aside to make space for his body. He hovered over her, their tongues dancing between their mouths as he thrust against her belly. She lifted her knees towards her chest and reached down to grasp him, brushing the head of his cock against her slick lips. He hummed and mumbled words she couldn’t understand, until she guided him inside her and he said “fuck.”

“Watch your language, Mulder” she chastised playfully, and he thrust into her suddenly, eliciting a gasp.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt? He stilled, searching her face.

She shook her head with a sly smile. “Even if it did, that’s not always a bad thing.”

His eyebrows went up in surprise “I’m learning so much about you today” he mused, resuming his thrusts slowly.

“Likewise” she replied, but her breathing was growing ragged, their playful banter becoming unsustainable.

He quickened his pace, kissing her neck and lips, burying his face in her hair when it became too intense for kissing. Suddenly he stopped and withdrew from her, and she looked at him incredulously. “Where are you going?” A question she’d asked him hundreds of times in an entirely new context.

“I’m interested in seeing you in every position imaginable, however I’ve been thinking so much about last time and I’d really like you to be on top again, if you don’t object to that.”

“No objections here” she replied, moving so that he could sit at the head of the bed against the wall. The sun was setting and she felt a little less exposed in the fading light of the bedroom. She climbed into his lap and kissed him for a couple minutes as she teased him at her opening, shifting her hips so he’d slide by, but not enter her. When she finally sunk down onto him, he dropped his head back and moaned in delicious agony. She started rising and falling slowly, planting kisses on his neck and nipping at his earlobes. As his breathing quickened she changed her rhythm, keeping her body close against his and sliding back and forth. His eyes shot open and his head lifted to watch what she was doing, gripping her hips though he made no attempt to control her movements. He reached down between them to touch her clit and she pushed his hand away. “Too much” she panted. “This part is just for you.” He returned his hand to her hip and trained his eyes on the place where their bodies met, slack jawed and wide eyed as she flexed her pelvis forward and back. When she could tell he was close, she increased her pace until he closed his eyes, he tightened his grip on her and cried out. As he crested over the most intense point, he opened his eyes again and looked at her face, locking eyes with her in the dim light of his bedroom as he filled her with his hot cum, desire giving way to the deep affection they held for each other. She collapsed against him and they sat like that for a while until she felt his fading erection slip out of her and a rush of fluid followed.

“Shit!” She said, sitting up with a worried expression. “I forgot about that part.”

He made a face that set her off giggling, which caused even more to drip out of her and into his lap. “Gah, don’t laugh, Scully, that makes it worse!” His protests only made her laugh harder and he smiled at her jiggling breasts as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“How about a shower, then dinner?” He proposed, and she nodded, still regaining composure.

After a hot shower and a borrowed pair of boxer shorts, they sat on his couch eating reheated lasagna and smiling at each other. After Mulder cleared their plates, he sat back down beside her.

“So” he said.

“So” she returned. What else could she say?

“I’m going to take the fact that you’re still here and that you’re wearing my underwear as an indication that this wasn’t a two-time only thing. Is that a sound conclusion?”

“It is” she replied with a smile.

[unfortunatelysirius]

Wicked Charm, What’s Your Patronus? | Remus Lupin, Marauders Era

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」

One day in Defense, Professor Boomstick offers whoever can produce a corporeal Patronus an Outstanding on the next essay as well as an out on a test. When Y/N shockingly produces a wolf Patronus, well… you can assume the rest.

「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」

Why did I name a guy Boomstick? Because that word is fucking hilarious to me THAT’S WHY (also this sucks ass but tbh I'm just going with the flow nowadays whatever comes out comes the f out whether it’s shit or not) and for anyone who wants to get technical, believe me i already know what u will say

      DEFENSE WAS Y/N L/N’S last class of every Friday and as of late, the only class she fervently dreaded. It was a mix of students from different Houses but dominated by Gryffindors. Three of the infamous sixth-year Gryffindor circle, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin, were in there, each of the blokes gifted with a wand. Y/N didn’t pay them much mind at the start of the year but after a few months of mingling and getting to know her classmates, she had developed somewhat of an acquaintanceship with the boys, perhaps even a friendship. She was one of the other few Gryffindors in the room and after she particularly chewed out one of the Ravenclaws feet from the classroom for ruining her perfect attendance record (allegedly, the clumsy arse caused her a three-day sentence in the Hospital Wing) James and Sirius decided she had enough style and substance (“Marauder flair,” they called it) to invite her into their gang.

      It was as unenticing on the inside as it was from a feet-on-the-ground outsider’s perspective. Y/N wasn’t very adventurous. She was miles away from Lily’s singlehanded definition of “studious”, but still a pretty mellow person, preferring to keep to predetermined routes and undetected on radars. She was an extrovert with introverted tendencies, mostly appearing at times with people who differed in lifestyle. Like James and Sirius, two peas in a pod.

      Remus Lupin was much less of a firecracker inches from popping, his voice tampered and quiet, his disposition ripe with premature wisdom. Y/N found him likeable. Almost too likable—a noticeable kind of fancy that only prats would fail to see. Then that fancy became more; she didn’t remember how.

      This was open to judgment from the gods, who could choose to interfere or leave Y/N’s recent change of heart alone.

      Unfortunately for her with this newfound friendship and growing fancy, James and Sirius had enough arrogance to fit the Greek gods from ancient myth…

      Zeus and Poseidon, at least. Maybe even Aphrodite, the bloody matchmakers. 

-

      Professor Boomstick, a stout, ashen man who oftentimes went into tangents about how the Muggle Army was a lousy old group of incompetent twats, liked challenges. He liked challenges for his students, specifically. He also liked favoritism and had yet to liken any students to his old pub buddies. Today Y/N and the Marauders all went to class expecting a test, but Professor Boomstick was already there waiting—and the room was empty of desks. Y/N stopped in her tracks, feeling Remus’s tall, lean frame smack into her backside. He apologized but she ignored him, sweeping her gaze across the floor. A group of students who found themselves there before her were huddling in a corner, nervous as sheep waiting to be sheered.  

      Y/N’s steps held an edge... She couldn’t deny she herself was nervous.

“Damn the test,” Professor Boomstick barked suddenly, catching Y/N’s bewildered eyes and holding them hostage. She swallowed hard. Surprises were not fun to her; she hated them with a passion. This old fart was just an arse to be incorporating one in place of a test on the history of Patronuses and Animagi she spent eons studying for. “We’ll see what you’re made of today without wasting parchment, can’t read your writin’ anyhow.”

      “What exactly are we doing?” a long-faced, petite-nosed girl asked.

      Professor Boomstick raised his wand and closed the door behind Y/N and the Marauders, throwing them further into the room. Y/N felt Remus’s arm brush her side and heat enveloped her from head to stomach.  Glaring at Professor Boomstick, they all walked to stand with the other students, keeping a close eye on the crazy man they all called their teacher. Thank Merlin Defense professors never lasted.  

      “For any of you kids that can produce me a corporeal Patronus, I won’t just give ye bonus,” Professor Boomstick said, smirking at the huddle of students. “Ya got an essay due two weeks time on endangered species of the Wizarding World and that test we had scheduled today’s rescheduled for Monday. I’ll give any of ya who give me what I want a freebie on the quiz—and an automatic Outstanding on the essay. Still gotta turn three pages in though.”

      The huddle of students struck up an excited exchange of whispers before going abruptly silent. Patronuses? That was hard-level shit and sparingly learned outside of class lessons due to its difficulty. Disappointment shuttered down the spines of each student, one at a time, as they all came to the same conclusion: this was a waste of time.

      “What? None of ya have even tried?” Professor Boomstick demanded, bushy white eyebrows furrowing in the middle of his forehead. “May be a charm, but it could save yer life someday. All it takes is one loose Dementor and BOOM! Your soul’s been sucked right outta ya.”

      Everyone flinched, some horrified at the sheer mention of Dementors. Professor Boomstick was right. No one really knew Patronuses and their uses. Advanced magic like that was too extensive, too dueling of a task.

      Professor Boomstick was getting frustrated and impatient, glaring at each student individually. Crazy old man.

Y/N L/N nervously glanced at her classmates, mostly the marauding group of boys she befriended, before she stepped out of the huddle. All eyes automatically went to her.

      James and Sirius were (in their opinion, rightfully) shocked she had this information under her belt the entire time—sitting on it, dwelling on it, never admitting to it where her friends were concerned. The two of them didn’t have any concept of privacy, both too invasive to be capable of secrets; Remus was nowhere near similar. Secrets were a part of his nature, only for the benefit of others and never his. If anyone could understand Y/N’s need to keep something like this close to her chest, it was Remus. Though, this wasn’t much of a secret. They all knew Y/N’s history and domestic life.

      Remus glanced at her, an unreadable expression on his face, but her back was turned to him. She could feel everyone looking at her and picking out a single pair of eyes was too strenuous a task.

      “Get on with it, L/N,” Professor Boomstick demanded.

      “Okay, sir,” Y/N said. She would have never dared do this, but she was drowning in coursework from her other classes—any further work and she’d lose sleep, her grades suffering for it. Her mouth opened, inhaling a deep breath she braced.

      Patronus charms were a complicated, beautiful species of magic. Arduous and dogging, it took someone particularly skilled to produce one—and you had to conjure one of your best memories, one of pure joy and exhilaration. Not just happiness, as one of Y/N’s old mentors incorrectly told her once upon a time. Y/N came from a family always preparing for the worst and through the years as the likelihood of a war reached its peak, her parents grew increasingly paranoid and enrolled her in a summer mentorship program as a precaution. She learned the Patronus charm from an eccentric man named Ellis Hawking.

      Y/N’s happiest memory, the one that gave her pure, unadulterated joy, was when she was twelve and got to see her new baby sister.

      “Expecto Patronum,” Y/N said when an incandescent smile reached her lips. All concentration went into her wand when she pointed. Her wand felt like it thrummed under her fingertips and she targeted the air just north of herself, where no one was in her line of sight.

      Everyone behind her gasped when a shot of pure light emitted from her wand’s end, something growing larger as it left. Tendrils of silver and white swept the floor, coiling to become a translucent shape. The shape growled noiselessly, galloping on the ground like a wolf. It was a wolf. Majestic and sleek, making a turn to come running back at the caster herself—polarizing white eyes staring right into hers. Ears pinned back and slivers of silver hair standing on edge. All until it disappeared into the same device that made it. Creation and destruction, two separate words that meant the same: an inevitable, unavoidable cycle.  

      Y/N’s Patronus was last a dolphin when she first learned how to cast, not a wolf.

      Her Patronus had changed.

      “Bravo, bloody Hell—bravo, girl!” Professor Boomstick clapped enthusiastically. “For sure you’re gettin’ in my good graces rest of this here year. You’ve gotta be one hell of a witch casting a corporeal Patronus at sixteen! Bloody—”

      Y/N stared down at her wand, completely bewildered.

      Why did it change?

-

      James glanced over at Sirius while Y/N was distracted, a grin breaking his shocked composure. Neither he, Sirius, or Remus expected that; while Remus was busy frozen and possibly panicking himself into early gray hairs, James was bursting on the inside from excitement. Sirius shared a similar expression.

      “Looks like little Y/N’s in love with Moony,” he hissed under his breath, failing to lose his grin. “That’s gotta be it. I’ve read on this before.”

      Sirius nodded, a faux solemnness combatting the electric shock darting around like butterflies on his face. “After General Prat’s done,” he said, and the two nodded like soldiers heading to war.

-

      When no one other than Y/N could even produce an incorporeal Patronus, Professor Boomstick disappointedly released them—promising a nervous Y/N not to worry about the test or upcoming essay. James and Sirius automatically attacked at the last nameless student’s retreat, Remus trailing his two mates like a left-behind dog.

      Sirius’s eyes zeroed in on Y/N’s wrist, where a charm bracelet dangled. It was covered in expensive-looking charms, one of engraved letters, a wand, a little wolf.

Whoa, cauldron’s bearings. There was a bloody wolf charm! What were the odds?

      “Wicked charm,” Sirius said through a wink. Y/N’s eyes flickered between the two blokes then at her charm bracelet, not at all soothed in their presence. Still struggling to understand why her Patronus would be different, the two twats harassing her wasn’t desirable—especially since they looked like they did while meddling. Pranking. Causing mischief. Y/N made it clear ages ago she wouldn’t react kindly if they decided to fuck around with her the way they did with the rest of the Hogwarts student body. She liked her comfort bubble how it was, unperforated by buffoons best left six feet away. “Wolves. Did you get it to match your Patronus?”

      Y/N bit her lip. “Well, actually—"

      “Ah, Padfoot, obviously that wouldn’t be the case,” James said, slinging an arm around his mate’s shoulder. “She got it because it makes her think of a certain someone.”

      “Who would I even think of? You guys are such prats,” Y/N said indignantly, narrowing her eyes now. Seriously, what were they getting at? They didn’t know anything, just perfectly well how drive anyone and everyone up the bloody wall. They’d drive a sane man mad!

      “James, Sirius, don’t,” Remus said softly, appearing from behind. His eyes were wide with alarm, meeting Y/N’s at her sharp twist. He gulped at the annoyance in hers; James and Sirius had already done their damage. Idiots, they were.

      “See, Y/N, I don’t think your Patronus has always been a wolf,” Sirius went on, pretending like neither Y/N nor Remus spoke in the first place. “Am I wrong?”

      Y/N warily said, “No…”

      “Did you know Patronuses can change to be complementary of their lovers’?” Sirius grinned obnoxiously. He shrugged his shoulders and nudged Y/N with one of his hands. “Just a thought. Maybe you fancy somebody, love ‘em.”

      Y/N’s eyes widened and involuntarily, they looked at where Remus was standing. Remus froze again.

      “We’ll leave you to it,” James said hastily, still grinning.

      The bespectacled boy quickly lassoed Sirius around the neck and guided him to the door, calling to Remus that they’d be back in their dorm by the time he finished.

      Remus awkwardly glanced over at Professor Boomstick. The man was just standing by his desk, drinking out of a flask, presumably waiting for his next class. Y/N sighed and unconsciously laced her fingers into Remus’s, dragging him away from their crazy-ass professor.

      Once outside, Y/N faced Remus. “Is your Patronus a wolf?” she asked quietly, hurriedly. She didn’t want anyone to overhear, though the only likely soul left in distance was Peeves.

      Remus looked at the ground. “Yes,” he reluctantly told her. He and the Marauders had yet to let her in on his furry little secret.

      “Oh,” Y/N said and went silent. It’s not that she didn’t want to be in love with Remus, she just didn’t understand why she could have been so stupid to cast her Patronus in front of the entire class without contemplating her feelings for Remus first. Especially with prior knowledge that a wolf Patronus implied the chance of the charm caster being a werewolf. Students from the class would be beside themselves with rumors of Y/N being a werewolf herself.

      As long as it wasn’t Remus being investigated.

      “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, peeking up at her.

      Y/N rolled her eyes. “Remus, why are you apologizing? Because of what animal the charm was? I’m not a bloody idiot. I know. Good thing I’m the caster, no one else, right?”

      “Why would you like me, let alone love me?” Remus asked. “I don’t understand. I’m—”

      “No, don’t even say it,” Y/N said, meeting his gaze. She reached forward and held his shoulders. “You’re handsome, funny, and intelligent. The least mad of any bloke I’ve seen. That’s all that matters to me.”

      The heels of her feet lifted off the ground so she could peck his cheek. Remus flushed red and flinched back, not having expected any sort of affection—but Y/N deliberately ignored his confusion. She snorted and turned to leave.

      Remus stood processing the unlikely events.

Y/N didn’t hear corresponding footsteps and stopped walking herself. “I hope you at least somewhat like me,” she said over her shoulder. “Else, that’d be one bloody embarrassing confession.”

Oh.

Remus’s shoes squeaked when he jogged to catch up. With his cheeks still aflame, Y/N hoped that meant he did, in fact, reciprocate.

I might need to do something about everyone seeing my Patronus, Y/N thought. Stupid Hogwarts and its plethora of assholes waiting for worthy gossip.

She was sure James and Sirius wouldn’t mind Obliviating the entire school for her and Remus. The idiots did supposedly do anything for their friends. 

[yongtxt]

one summer’s day [yuta]

word count: 6.5k words

characters: parent!yuta x parent!reader ft. 95 line and a child

genre: angst. just suffering

warnings: mentions of illnesses, hospitals, and deaths. includes a bit of smoking, too. a ton of inaccurate medical information.  yuta has self-deprecating and self-destructive tendencies

author’s note: this is my third (and last!!!) hospital-based fic and i’m running out of ways to describe a hospital. this is emotionally taxing but this was so fun to write! also i tried out a new format so i hope it looks okay? (unedited but not rlly)

Nakamoto Mai’s summers were always spent basking in the white heat of the sun with the salty water of the ocean’s waves splashing against her skin. Your husband would hold her up by her arms, wading them ashore to where you were watching them over, lounging on a beach towel with your knees hugged to your chest.

Yuta would set his daughter on the sand, allowing her to run off to where her short limbs could take her—chasing off the seagulls that would land near her vicinity. He would make his way to you, dripping with water, and he would tackle you onto the ground just to tease you and hear your sweet laugh that was filled with nothing but love.

It wouldn’t take long before Mai would scurry back to her parents, out of breath and her plump cheeks glowing a shade of red you were already too familiar with. She’d crawl into Yuta’s arms while you’d carefully smear on a thick glob of aloe vera gel on her face, poking the tip of her nose and making her giggle.

For a family that resided in the urban city, you always appreciated the time you got to spend in the beaches of Daecheon with the most important people in your life; Yuta, your high school sweetheart that you got to marry two years after your first child was born, and Mai, the physical proof of the love you shared with him.

You had Mai at a time that was least expected. At the early age of twenty-one, bearing a child was the curveball that threw your and Yuta’s life into disarray. Your wishes of traveling outside the country were put to a halt and Yuta’s plans of dabbling into his long-time hobby of soccer were withheld; you were both forced into joining the workforce to afford to raise a child that you weren’t even sure you wanted to have in the first place.

But it was in the way you heard her steady heartbeats at your first ultrasound, how it immediately made your resolve waver. The look of pure adoration Yuta held the first time he’d felt her kicking in your stomach, it was a look you’ve never seen before—a look that made it feel like it was all worth it.

The day came when she was finally born into the world, holding onto your thumb as you held the newborn baby onto your chest. You knew right then and there that all of the doubts and worries you’ve had coming into your pregnancy, it didn’t matter anymore as long as you had Mai and Yuta with you.

It wasn’t easy to be parents at such a young age. To be able to juggle parenthood and your respective careers, you and Yuta wouldn’t dare say that you’ve come close to mastering the skill but you were sure close to it. Mai had a wonderful upbringing despite the many hardships you and Yuta have gone through. She managed to grow up in an environment that emanated warmth and affection, unaware of her parents’ sacrifices of their young adulthood to be able to give her the life she deserved.

Spoiled, as others may think, but she was her parents' pride and joy. Neither of you wouldn’t want her to be treated anything less than a princess should. The smile Mai always had on, you would do everything in your power to keep it.

-

As pampered as she was, most of it came from a place of having to treat her especially with care and attention more than a normal child would need because Mai was a chronically ill child. Born with a weak heart, it was a miracle that she even survived the delivery to start with.

She had always been sickly therefore trips to her many pediatricians weren’t unusual for your family, already having familiarized with most of the doctors and nurses who usually took care of her at your local hospital.

Mai had a lively personality, leading an active lifestyle spent running and playing around all day, but her heart defect caused her to be easily tired. Her constant shortness of breath put her in danger thus her pediatricians had made it a note to always keep an out for her.

When Mai fell into a continuous fever after your family’s trip to the beach, you didn’t think anything of it because of how frequently it happened. Yuta made you go to work and leave Mai in his care while he still had another day of his paid leave, reassuring that she would be fine as long as he was there to take care of her.

That same morning, Mai clambered off her bed—a little too early than her usual wake-up—and waddled into her parents’ bedroom, still burning high off her fever. She reached out for her father’s sleeping form on the bed, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt.

“Papa, it hurts.” She said once Yuta had groggily sat up to properly tend to his child’s cries, seeing the clumps of tears forming at the corner of her eyes. The sight was enough to jostle him awake, alarmed.

He pulled her off the ground and plopped the five-year-old onto his lap, worry growing in the pit of his stomach. It was only in rare cases when Mai’s pain would bring her to tears, indicating how much she was hurting. She looked worse than what he remembered the night before; her breathing still irregular as it always was, but her skin was paler than normal and sweat formed in her temple—it didn’t look like she was suffering her regular lapses.

Yuta asked, “Where is it hurting, Mai?”

She hesitantly pointed to her chest, to where her heart was. Without another question asked, he hurriedly grabbed his car keys from the bedside table. Her pediatricians told you and Yuta of her risk of chest pains and how they shouldn’t treat it lightly considering that she was merely a child. If it goes beyond what Mai could handle, she should immediately see the professionals to get treated.

In his sleepwear, Yuta drove to the hospital as fast—but safely—as he could. Anxious fingers drummed against the steering wheel while Mai sat at the back in her booster seat, her stuffed toy of a dolphin enveloped in her arms.

Briefly checking themselves in the emergency ward, some of the nurses who were already familiar with the Nakamotos ushered them towards the waiting room the moment they had spotted Yuta carrying Mai into the entrance.

He always sat near the decorative fish tank, knowing how much Mai loved watching the fishes swim around. It distracted her from the dread that came with the never-ending blood tests and x-rays she was required to take. It was effective almost every time, but it seemed like that day wasn’t like any normal day.

Mai stilled in her father’s arms in the time they spent in the waiting room, her eyes sewn shut and her lips clamped together. Watching her choking in her sobs and unable to do anything about it, it only broke Yuta’s heart more than it already has.

He let out a shaky breath, wanting the day to be over with already.

-

You entered Mai’s room in haste, slamming the door open as you heaved heavy pants. Still in your work attire, you dropped your bags onto the tiled floor and hurried to your child’s side.

“Mama!” Mai exclaimed, still the cheery child that she was. Yuta, who sat on a chair beside the bed, jumped at her sudden yell and whipped his head to his side to find you already reaching out to her.

You carefully cradled her into the crook of your neck, stroking her hair. She donned a hospital gown and she was hooked onto several machines, patches on her chest for the cardiac monitor and a nasal cannula in her nose; the situation seemed worse than what she let on, how her eyes lit up at your arrival, happy and enthusiastic, opposed how grave of a situation it looked.

“How are you feeling, Mai?” You asked in hopes that your worry wasn’t evident in your tone, holding onto her comparatively smaller hands in yours. “Are you still hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head fervently, a wide grin adorning her beautiful features, “No, no! I feel much better now!”

You let out a breathy laugh, pinching her cheek and making her whine at your doting. Ease washed over you, the tension you had on your shoulders released almost in an instant at the assurance that Mai wasn’t hurting anymore and she was okay.

“I told you that you should never lie about what you’re feeling, Mai.” Yuta spoke up beside you and for a second you’ve forgotten that he was there at all, how quiet he’s been since you came. He looked exhausted, pieces of hair sticking out in different directions and a frown etched on his face.

“But it’s the truth!” Mai pouted her lips, glaring at her father who could only let out a faint chuckle.

You turned to Yuta and leaned over to place a kiss on his forehead, lingering for a moment longer. You wanted to apologize to him for leaving him to deal with it alone, but you knew he would just brush it off with him as the type of person who’d bottle in his stress to not worry those around him.

“Was it really necessary to confine her?” You asked, wrapping an arm around Yuta’s head and pulling him to your side in an attempt to console him—yourself, too, in his touch.

Of all the times you had to run Mai to the emergency ward, it has never come to a point where she needed to stay a day longer in the hospital. The machines she was hooked up on were usually used, but her tests and x-rays were possible to accomplish within the day. There usually was no need to confine her.

“They found an anomaly in one of her tests, her doctors wanted her to stay the night while they made sure that everything’s alright.” Yuta said as quietly as he could, wanting the conversation to be kept strictly between the two of you. He doubted Mai would even understand, but he didn’t want to take his chances of scaring his own child.

You bit the insides of your cheek, the return of the panicked thuds in your heart almost deafening. You replied, “It’s probably a mistake on their part, it’s gonna be fine.”

Yuta wasn’t quite sure if you meant to say it to him or to yourself. Either way, he appreciated it nonetheless. Having you beside him was already a weight lifted off him, he had less to worry about now that you were with him.

Mai, sensing the heavy tension in the room like the smart and sensible girl that she was, shuffled closer to her parents’ side of the bed but Yuta was quick to stop her from doing so. He wouldn’t want to risk snapping off her tubes, a lesson they had to learn the hard way before. She frowned, grabbing her father’s arm instead.

“Really, I’m okay now!” Mai was persistent even against the helpless expressions her parents wore, determined to make them believe so. She added, “Papa said that we can go home once mama comes so we can leave now, right?”

“We have to make sure that you’re actually fine, Mai. We have to stay a little longer.” You tried to smile at her, to make it seem like nothing was wrong. You cupped her face into the palm of your hand, caressing her skin with your thumb. “Is that okay?”

“I guess so.” She huffed, but her grimace was gone as soon as it appeared when you attacked her with a claw to tickle her stomach.

Yuta joined in eventually, hesitant still, but he relented just to hear Mai’s laughter—her hearty laughs that never failed to light up the room and make them feel better. He wondered just how much pain she was actually in to be able to hide it this well or was she even in pain at all like she had claimed.

She was acting as if she was perfectly fine but then again, Mai was a child who never liked to see people worrying. Much like him, he realized.

It took hours before one of Mai’s main pediatricians came knocking on the door, hours of agonizing torture on your and Yuta’s end. When you let Doctor Kang into the room, Mai was in the middle of eating dinner that his Uncle Taeyong had kindly cooked and dropped off at the hospital at the news of his niece’s confinement.

Mai visibly perked at the familiar man, waving her hand wildly to greet the doctor she had known for as long as she could remember. If she thought about it hard enough, almost all of her early memories included Doctor Kang, having been to hospitals so much to the extent that doctors no longer feared her unlike most children would.

“I assume you feel better now?” Doctor Kang asked in a playful tone, making his way to the side of Mai’s bed while you followed suit behind him. With her mouth full of chicken, she could only give him a high-spirited thumbs up. He chuckled, “That’s great to hear, Mai.”

“Us adults are going to talk for a bit so just continue eating what Uncle Taeyong gave you.” Yuta said, ruffling Mai’s hair. She nodded, too engrossed in her seahorse-shaped nuggets to be defiant that she wasn’t included.

Doctor Kang led you and Yuta to the corner of the room where there was a couch you could sit on. Yuta’s hand found yours subconsciously as you braced yourself for what Mai’s pediatrician had to say.

“Based on Mai’s medical records, she was born with a congenital heart defect, yes?” Doctor Kang asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his white coat.

“Yes, but other doctors told us that it wasn’t life-threatening.” You remarked, already defensive. You were about to rise in your seat if it wasn’t for Yuta’s hold on you. Doctor Kang’s expression remained calm despite your reaction that you assumed he already anticipated. With a smaller voice, you said, “She’s been completely fine ever since.”

Doctor Kang nodded, “That is true but there’s a sudden spike in one of her tests, Mrs. Nakamoto. We’ve run it multiple times already to make sure but it looks like Mai is now prone to convulsions and epilepsy-like symptoms.”

“Convulsions? Epilepsy?” You trailed off, disliking the taste it left on your tongue. You felt Yuta’s grip on you tighten. “Isn’t this a bit too unexpected? What caused this?”

“These things just happen if you were born with a heart defect, we can never tell when it occurs. The most we can do is treat it accordingly.” Doctor Kang said, and you didn’t bother hiding the breath of relief you released. It was treatable, at least. “Expect that her health will be unstable as we’re yet to find out how her body will react so I’m advising that Mai should stay here for the meantime so we could monitor her closely.”

“She’ll be okay, right?” Yuta spoke for the first time since Doctor Kang arrived, his voice quiet and unsure. “Mai will get better?”

Doctor Kang sighed through his nose, pushing up his glasses, “We will do everything in our power to take care of her but you have nothing to be worried about, Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto. Your daughter is a strong girl.”

The said girl sat on her hospital bed, clueless to her parents’ slow descent to their anxieties they kept suppressed for so long.

-

Yuta stared at Mai’s serene face, her figure curled into a fetal position as she let out snores without care. He stood from a distance, leaning against the wall while you sat on a stool beside him. You shared the same worn-out appearance as your husband, dark circles and all.

A week has passed since Mai was confined in the hospital and it hasn’t gotten any better since. Her temperature kept fluctuating and she spent most of her nights switching her nasal cannula to an oxygen mask for a higher dosage of oxygen, unable to breathe properly anymore whenever she tried to fall asleep. She was also coughing a lot more, swelling in the most random parts.

Mai’s condition was getting worse by the day; unfortunately, it was taking its toll on you and Yuta as well, and you hated how much it showed.

“I’m killing her.” Yuta managed to choke out in the midst of his cries, his unkempt nails digging into the palm of his hands.

“You’re not killing her.” You snapped, incapable of even bringing yourself to rise from your seat to embrace him as much as your mind wanted to. Your body felt too exhausted, emotionally and physically too drained to function. You settled on holding his hand instead, to keep him from hurting himself as you’ve already instinctively known of his mechanisms. “You’re just panicking.”

“My father died because of the same illness, it’s hereditary. I passed the curse onto my child.” He wept, finding his solace in the way your thumb was rubbing circles onto the back of his hand.

“Mai is not gonna fucking die, Yuta.” You said, much more sternly this time with a tiny hint of aggravation seeping through in your rise of tone. You didn’t even want to think of the possibility of your daughter’s death, the thought alone brought tears to your eyes. You clicked your tongue, “Please, you have to trust your daughter a little more.”

Burying his face into his free hand, he let out shallow breaths. You sighed, but it didn’t bear animosity nor ill will, you were just tired—tired of pretending that you weren’t as in equal distress as he was. You couldn’t let anybody know of your vulnerabilities, especially not to your husband who was already suffering as it is.

Forcing yourself of energy, you pushed yourself up from your stool and took Yuta in your arms. You let him cry onto your shoulder that night, your own tears damping the back of your hand.

Despite that you were just human with the same capacity for emotions as much as the next person, you needed to be strong for your family. You didn’t know who else could take care of them if not you. 

-

There were days Yuta thought it was gonna get better. A fool that he was, truly.

Days when Mai’s uncles would come to visit their favorite niece, Taeyong with his arms full of newly bought toys for them to play with and Johnny with his shoulders carrying bags and bags of children’s books he wanted to read to her, and days when he’s able to leave work early and she’s gets to spend time with both of her parents by her side.

Those were the days Yuta never wanted to end because only in those times would he see again the glint in Mai’s eyes that she had lost, the glow she radiated in her elation. She’d be talkative, she had so many stories to tell and Yuta would never get tired of hearing all of it. So full of life and childlike charisma, it was as if everything was back to normal—except it wasn’t.

Days like those would always end in nights of suffering and agony for your family. Mai would lay on the hospital bed in a cold sweat, fighting a battle she wasn’t winning and there was nothing he could do to help alleviate the pain she was feeling. The monotonous beeping of her machines had become her lullabies, it would drown out your storytelling that used to lull her asleep.

Yuta was in a bad headspace, that he knew. Whenever he looked at you, he was reminded of it; how reliant he was of you for emotional support. The guilt he felt was overwhelming, it almost threatened to pour. He hears your desperate cries at night and your silent prayers, he knew how exhausted you were and there would be times he wanted to just say that you didn’t have to put up a tough and optimistic persona for Mai, for him.

But he would be lying if he did so. He was crumbling, he wasn’t in the clearest of mindset.

There would be instances so extreme that he would wish that he could just stay in his office and never return to the hospital, to never face his harsh reality and pretend that this wasn’t his.

Yuta would think to himself, who am I kidding?

He shouldn’t have ever met you and gotten you pregnant, Mai wouldn’t have to endure the pain he had caused her by being his child, but he was selfish. He had to sow what he reaped, to see through his curse that he jinxed his family with.

-

“Papa, look!” Mai called from where she splayed across the hospital bed, Yuta looked over his shoulder to see her proudly presenting her finished work of the LEGO set of a beach house that you had bought for her. She had a toothy grin on her face, showing off the pieces that came with it. “It’s me, papa, and mama! Look!”

“You’re already done with it?” He chuckled, walking over to see what she had been working on diligently for hours. His heart squeezed, noticing how she purposely customized the pieces to resemble your family’s own beach house in Daecheon; from the missing panels of the fences that he ruined and the placements of the flower pots you tended.

“Is this supposed to be me?” He asked, picking up a figurine that she had messily painted its hair with black acrylic to match his. She nodded enthusiastically. He laughed, “Mai, this is really good!”

“Yeah, I worked really hard on it!” She giggles, stifling a cough. Yuta rubbed his hand over her back to soothe her, kissing the top of her head to make her know of his appreciation of her hard work. A genuine smile on his face for once.

He always wondered how Mai made it so easy to melt all of his troubles and anxieties away. Her tiny body was capable of so much love, she lit up his darkest days so effortlessly. It made him feel so loved to know how much his daughter thought of him.

Yuta wanted to curse himself for all the times that he thought of himself badly. Regardless of his desperate pleads and regrets, he knew full well that he loved Mai too much to not wish her into existence. 

He had to work on negating his thoughts that fantasized about his own destruction. If Mai had known how badly he spoke of himself, he knew she wouldn’t like it—perhaps it would even shatter her image of him of the always optimistic, always confident father that he built.

His self-deprecation will not get the best of him again, for his mental stability and his family’s.

-

With his phone pressed against his ear with one hand, Yuta held up a lit cigarette in the other. The pungent smell of tobacco lingered in the air, he inhaled its remnants deeply like a depraved man would.

“Papa, when are you coming home? Mama sucks at doing the fishes’ voices!” Mai’s voice pierced in his ear, and Yuta heard you laughing from the background. His daughter’s voice sounded hoarse, but he didn’t let it sway him from souring her mood.

Tapping the ash off his stick, he said, “I’m almost done with work, okay? I’ll come home soon.”

Home, it was an odd term to call the bleak white-walled room that confined his child. As the days dragged on, Yuta has grown to accept it for what it is. While it was a prison to most, Mai treated the hospital room as she would to her own bedroom and the people who surrounded her were mostly to blame for it.

Because for Mai, it felt just like home whenever Uncle Taeyong would come and visit. He’d pull out papers and paints from his bag and encourage her to be creative. They would pin up their artworks on the walls for everybody to see, and she would giggle when she’ll overhear her uncle getting scolded by you for making a mess of the splatters they made, but he would always be forgiven for most of their works was of their family (uncles included; Uncle Taeyong wouldn’t allow them to be excluded).

It felt like home whenever Uncle Johnny would sneak around past visiting hours to bring Mai a new stuffed toy to add to her ever-growing collection. He would excuse himself that it was urgent, that the toys helped her sleep better at night, but they all knew that he was just too excited to see his niece’s reaction to waste a day. A wide variety of different water animals piled up near the bed, all courtesy of her uncle’s wallet and his tendency to spoil her.

Even on Mai’s worst days, it still felt like home. When she would curl into a position with her small fists digging into her chest that felt too constricted, completely unable to lift another finger because her body would be in too much pain, Yuta would be there to hold her hand. You would place her head on your lap, running your fingers through her hair to quietly soothe her until Mai would begin to forget that she was ever in pain.

Yuta hated the hospital, he hated how dreary it was. But it was home. As long as he had his family with him, it didn’t matter where home was—home was never just a place, it was a feeling he felt whenever he was with you and Mai. The hospital he had associated with nothing but misery for so long, Room 345 had become a place he could now look forward to coming home to.

Yuta dropped his cigarette and crushed it with the sole of his shoe, eager to wrap things up for the day so he could see his family again.

-

On her twenty-first day in the hospital, Mai had still shown no signs of recovery. Yuta was so sure that his nightmare was coming to life.

“We did everything we could, but her health is deteriorating every day and we’re running out of ways to keep her symptoms at bay.” Doctor Kang bowed his head, his guilty apologies falling on deaf ears.

Yuta’s fist collided with the wall, a loud crack resonating from its sheer impact.

“It’s unfortunate but for now the machines are keeping her alive.” Doctor Kang added, his voice lost in the midst of your inconsolable hysterics and Yuta’s fit of rage. “We’re still doing the best we could, but I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto…”

The voice in Yuta’s head grew louder and louder, screaming that it was his fault, his fault, his fault. This time, he wasn’t able to shut it out.

-

When you were still carrying Mai in your womb—only three months into your pregnancy with barely a bump to show off—Yuta made a promise to give his unborn child the entire world.

He wanted to be the best father, the kind of father who would be capable of protecting them from all the harsh reality and the kind of father who would be by their side for all of their ups and downs. He would not miss a moment of his child’s life, he would watch them grow in front of his very eyes to be a person he’d be proud to call his child.

But now he couldn’t believe his eyes, Mai at five years old was lying on a hospital bed. He was looking at her so intently as if he was trying to commit her appearance into his mind—how the curve of her nose bore a resemblance to yours, how her lips reminded him of his own, and even how her eyes were similar to her grandmother’s; all of it, he instilled all of it.

Yuta found it painfully cruel how not a single feature of his late father was passed down to Mai. Nakamoto Tatsuo, the kind father that he was, had an appeal to his appearance and was a sight to behold but none of his traits could be distinguished from Mai’s face, it was just his weak heart that he passed unto her.

“Are you okay, papa?” Mai asked after a while of just observing her silent father, tilting her head confusedly at the sudden outburst of tears streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t like seeing papa cry.”

He nodded, wiping his cheeks rather aggressively, “You don’t have to worry about me, Mai. I’m alright.”

“Okay, I trust you… I love you, papa.” Mai smiled at him, and he burned the image into memory.

-

It happened on a day that felt too normal. Soft waves of laughter filled the room, accompanying it was Mai’s favorite movie soundtrack playing its pleasing tunes.

Mai was engrossed in a game of UNO with you, her small hands doing its best to carry a deck of The Little Mermaid themed cards. She had her tongue sticking out from focus, oblivious that you have been purposely making her win since the round had started.

Yuta, on the other hand, was tidying up the mess her uncles left when they had visited in the morning. He swore they coddled their niece too much.

Everything seemed so normal, it was just like any other day in the hospital. Mai was about to call her win, placing her final card in the pile, when her arm suddenly stiffened. She lurched over into a violent spasmodic fit, accidentally knocking off the stack of cards and snapping off the tubes she had in her nose that provided her oxygen.

You yelped in your startle, shaky fingers easing Mai into a position where she could breathe. For a moment, Yuta was frozen on his spot—utterly paralyzed by fear and panic as they had never seen their daughter have a seizure. He snapped back to reality soon after, forcing his legs to run out of the room and call for help.

Mai was still convulsing when Doctor Kang had finally arrived inside the room, he saw the condition she was in and he turned to Yuta who stood by the foot of the bed, watching the scene unfold with pure horror painted on his face.

“Both of you, get out now!” Doctor Kang’s voice bellowed, rushing to where Mai’s bed would pop its wheel. “I said, out!”

A horde of nurses barged into the room, ushering you and Yuta out of their way before either of you could’ve begun comprehending the situation. You were too stricken by shock, falling to the tiled floor as strangled sobs left your lips—desperate and helpless, while your husband stood by the door, gaping as he watched them wheel out his daughter to the direction of the emergency ward.

Yuta made his way to where the hospital bed used to be, kneeling down on the scattered mess they made of the playing cards. His vision blurred, he didn’t know where else he could find hope. It was as if he was merely just clawing at the seams that were threatening to pull apart any second.

He pressed his palms together, uttering a silent cry to a god he wasn’t quite sure he believed in anymore.

-

Yuta could not imagine living in a world where Mai was no longer.

A world where he would no longer wake up to her small hands shaking him awake, a world where he would no longer have to pick the peas off her dinner plate when you weren’t looking, a world where he would no longer need to take her to the beach just to satisfy her thirst of the ocean waves—he just couldn’t.

The world was robbing Yuta off witnessing the many firsts Mai was yet to experience, and he didn’t know if it was selfish of him that he couldn’t even think of accepting it. He wanted to see his daughter on her first day of school, to see her grow up and achieve her dreams and goals.

There was so much he had to know about her, to see her accomplish, but her clock was ticking. At age five, Mai was already laying on her deathbed. Unfairly so.

“She won’t be able to make it through the night.” Doctor Kang said, his head down low. “I’m so sorry.”

Hooked onto too many tubes to count, Mai rested on the hospital bed in her most peaceful slumber yet. She was unconscious to her mother’s cries, the first time Yuta had seen you crack in the eyes of others; you held onto her small frame for dear life, clutching onto her small pale hands as you laid beside her.

“What did we do wrong?” He heard you mutter to no one in particular, left it trembling in the suffocating air. “What the fuck did we do wrong?”

Yuta sat on the foot of the bed, unable to even look at Mai. He was scared, so terrified. In her final hours, he didn’t want to face her with a look that was sorrowful and guilt-ridden. He racked his brain of what to say, but he overwhelmed himself with his gazillion unsaid thoughts and it left ultimately him blank.

“Mai, are you listening?” He asked after a while, his voice hesitant and wavering. His throat felt dry as if he hasn’t spoken in years. When he received no reply, he let out a mirthless chuckle. He added, “Do you remember the first time we went to the beach?”

You craned your neck to meet Yuta’s eyes, bloodshot as yours were, and he didn't look away. He continued, “You were so little back then but you were rambunctious as ever. You loved the beach so much that I had to pretend that I got sick so we could go home.”

He saw your hand snake out of Mai’s blanket, holding it out for him to take. He caught it with his shaky fingers, tears tumbling out of his cheeks as he relished in the warmth you provided. Gripping on your hand with a tightness he couldn’t believe he was capable of in his state, you held on his even firmer; to assure him that you were there, that he was not alone.

“Mai,” You whispered in between hiccups, gazing at your daughter with such a tenderness Yuta knew was only reserved for Mai. “Mermaids and mermen don’t exist. It was only your papa who was swimming in the water when I pointed one to you.”

It was the crack in your voice that got him. You were letting yourself be vulnerable, and it pained him that it took you this long to finally allow yourself to be. The strong woman he was so in love with, falling apart right in front of him—somehow, you were still so beautiful. An absolute goddess that you were.

Tugging onto Yuta’s hand, he swallowed his reluctance and inched himself closer. He said on his way, “Mai, Uncle Johnny wasn’t the one who broke your favorite pail and shovel, it was me. I accidentally stepped on it and I blamed it all on your uncle because I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

It went on for a while, your family’s exchange of apologies and truths. It was all either of you could say, but Yuta wished this moment could last forever. You were being honest with your feelings and he was braving against his insecurities as a father, but he knew no matter how much tears he’d shed, Mai was still dying.

“Mai,” Tone a little softer, Yuta called out to his daughter once more. “You and your mama are the reasons why my life is worth living. You’ve both brought out a side of me that I never once imagined I was capable of having. But Mai, you especially are my strength.”

You burrowed your nose into the small of Mai’s neck, muffling your cries at your husband’s confession. He carried on, baring his soul out, “You are the light of my life and of so many others and Mai, we need you to stay alive… I need you to keep on living.”

Mai coughed, and Yuta’s eyes shot open. You drew back, in equal shock at her sudden awakening. She smiled at the sight of her parents, barely having the strength and energy to flutter open her lids all the way, “Papa, if I promise to, can we go back to the beach?”

A gasp ripped off your throat, fresh tears welling in your eyes as if you hadn’t already exhausted yourself from crying. While you latched yourself onto Mai’s fragile form, Yuta’s limbs moved before he could even process what was happening. He scrambled towards the both of you, throwing his arms around his family in a dogpile, clinging with all of his strength.

“Mama, your hair. It tickles.” Mai delicately giggled, scrunching her nose to evade your locks. She couldn’t move in either of your holds, allowing your and Yuta’s combined warmth and coziness to envelop her whole, almost soothing her to a state of tranquility she was never truly accustomed to all her life.

“I’m sorry, Mai.” You laughed breathlessly, a sense of relief washing over you, and you looked at her with a certain yearning. It was an apology that encapsulated everything—to your faults and shortcomings, you poured it all. “Let us make it up to you, okay?”

Yuta gently placed his palm against the side of her head, pressing his cheek against her head of hair and he didn't move an inch. He found comfort at the beating of her heart, faint but it was still there. He mumbled, “Tell us how can we make it up to you, Mai.”

“I want a new pail and shovel.” Mai hummed after a while of silence, letting you pepper her face with hurried kisses—sloppy kisses that would last her a lifetime—and ignoring the damp feeling on her scalp as she nestled into his father’s touch.

Home, Yuta thought once more, this is home. He savored the feeling for what he didn’t know would be the last time because on the night of August 5th of 2023, an hour after she had woken up from her heavily painkiller-induced condition, Nakamoto Mai died of heart failure.

Unknowingly, a little piece of her broken parents died with her. To fill the emptiness that she had left hollow in your hearts, you and your husband would turn to the beach for a taste of peace that neither of you wouldn’t ever fully attain again.

Life wasn’t fair, and Yuta doesn’t think it would ever be when it had already robbed him of his life’s purpose.

[ldcu-12stem1-group5mil]

“On Becoming a Medium: Gen Z Individuals as Modern Communicators”

Facebook. Instagram. Twitter. YouTube. Google.

If you are au courant with technology, you may have used these at least once in your life.

The world is changing at a rapid pace. Modifications, transformations, and advancements in all fields are constantly happening around the world. For instance, a few decades ago, the words 'social media' and the 'internet' are still unknown. Nevertheless, these soon played pivotal roles in revolutionizing and modernizing the society that we know of nowadays. People likewise attune and habituate themselves to various changes, hereby adapting to the new and evolved manner of living and communicating with others. The youth in the 21st century is no different. Individuals who were born alongside this expeditious technological and scientific progression are collectively referred to as Gen Z, and they might become the prominent catalysts of change in this modern era.

What year were you born? If you were born after 1997, then you belong to Generation Z (Gen Z).

Generation Z, often shortened as Gen Z or iGeneration, is a demographic cohort for those who were born between the late 1990s and early 2010s, succeeding the Millennials. Despite labeling them to the last letter of the English alphabet, they contrarily have a lot of firsts compared to the previous generations. To name a few, they are considered the pioneering generation of digital natives; they can now reshape the power of technology for the betterment of themselves and others. Moreover, they are also the first generation that was raised in the era of smartphones and the internet. Since Generation Z was born together with the rise of digital technologies, they are more oriented and used to having widely available information anytime anywhere. According to Katie Young of GWI, it has been estimated that Gen Z typically spends around 3 hours and 38 minutes online, 50% higher than an average mobile user. Internet became a fundamental part of today’s society, and it is inherent to Gen Z as well. Their use of the internet on a daily basis has influenced their interactions and patterns of communication with others, both positively and negatively.

Having been accustomed to the technology we have nowadays, it is unquestionable that this generation is considered 'tech-savvy'. Come to think of it, they have not experienced a world without these technologies. They can quickly create documents, presentations, and journals with ease, especially with sufficient internet speed and fine gadgets, like laptops and phones. Additionally, they can share it with their friends, classmates, teachers, or coworkers, making it systematic and efficient. These increase their overall productivity and connectivity with one another, allowing them to multitask on various activities within a short period of time.

More than half of the internet users across the globe are under the age of 24. Additionally, this group of people tends to spend roughly 70 hours a week on their devices (Metafacts, 2018).

Whatever they want to learn, it's readily accessible for them to read and practice. This gears Gen Z towards excellence and discipline, and the earlier these are practiced, the better it is for the maturity and growth of an individual.

The integration of technology into the lives of Generation Z is indeed highly powerful. Before, millennials use SMS and voice calls to connect, and prior to the invention of any telecommunication device, mailing a letter is the only way of communicating with others from afar. Unlike the previous generations, online and digital communication through various social media applications has become the predominant means of communication among Gen Z individuals. It doesn't matter where they are, they are all connected virtually, may it be a virtual conference call or a simple text message. Moreover, as technology made its way to almost everything, collaboration with one another is a crucial aspect that Gen Z individuals would prefer to have. Using popular messaging applications like Messenger and Discord, many of them can keep in touch with one another and easily collaborate on projects, tasks, or any activities.

Over the recent years, communication among people has transformed and changed. Aside from the technological advancements, the way we communicate with others both digitally and personally is now different compared to the previous generations before us. We now commonly see abbreviations and slang in chat messages and comments online. This is often used in casual conversations among friends and family. However, this is also a piece of evidence on how our language adapts and evolves to the changes we create over time.

These are the most common slang and abbreviations used in social media. How many of these have you used?

Despite the rise of messaging apps and virtual calls, face-to-face or personal communication is still the widely preferred form of communication among Gen Z individuals.

With the frequent use of social media and the internet, Gen Z individuals tend to acquire a lot of ideas and information from others. YouTube and TikTok trends are great examples of this. As a result, they become more creative and imaginative when performing or doing something, especially when it strikes their interest. Besides, they can also create content to share with their audience. It may be for entertainment, education, information, and many more.

On top of that, Gen Z is also considered the most diverse generation, as they openly accept and embrace diversity and differences of everyone. No matter where you came from and what you define yourself, you are accepted by this generation. They are generally open-minded to the issues and taboos we commonly avoid to discuss. Moreover, they enthusiastically engage in various activities that support equality and transparency, and actively protest against racism, discrimination, hatred, and corruption which have long plagued our society. These actions, together with the rising influence of social media, may pave the way for the young generation’s voices to resonate around the world, making an impact to the society in the process.

Furthermore, these social media platforms gave them the chance to become more knowledgeable and updated on what is happening locally and internationally. They can be easily informed of any recent events by simply browsing the web or opening any social media app. Social media applications like Facebook and Twitter are the common avenues for this up to date information. However, remember that some of these may be false information, especially if the author or account who posted it is not a verified media outlet. Fact checking and verifying the sources of the articles seen in these platforms are easy and common ways to affirm their legitimacy.

Additionally, these social media applications also allow them to share their thoughts and comments regarding different posts, not to mention that may post something as well, provided that it is credible, verified, and factual. This consequently enriches their vocabulary and skills in writing, speaking, and debating, especially when involved in topics that are deemed controversial. As opposed to the millennials and previous generations, Gen Z is more open to voicing out their opinions, ideas, and thoughts to the world, candidly expressing their freedom of speech to everyone. 

They don’t want to continue being a follower, they want to lead. They want to make change.

Twitter and its tagline, "What's happening?", describing the purpose of the social media platform, to connect people and to allow them to share their thoughts with a public audience.

However, it is worth noting that knowing how to navigate the internet and media does not necessarily mean that you are already digitally literate. It is essential that as users of media and spreaders of information, we know what are the proper things to do online. Intently spreading disinformation is just plainly wrong, no matter what the reason is. It does not only cause confusion but also panic and hysteria, especially when that false information is an alarming threat to security and lives. In general, we need to be responsible and disciplined all the time. You may think it is harmless, but it may actually be harmful and damaging to others. Remember, think before you click.

Communication has always been an integral part of being a human. It is the sole reason why we progressed into the civilization that we live in right now. As we reach the digital age of our civilization, the new generation of digital natives, Generation Z, will soon become the contemporary modern communicators of this society. This generation is a vocal and active group that can be a great catalyst for change. Their fervent principles, philosophical beliefs, and prudent judgments may serve importance later on as the world progresses. However, to express these to the world, we need to become a good communicator — an effective and influential communicator. And to do that, we need to be genial, compassionate, and rational to others who wants to become a communicator as well. Let them speak and let them be heard. That way, you too will be heard by others.

Generation Z is a unique generation on its own, and with their power to become a powerful communicator, they can become a medium — a medium with a potential to spark change to the society we live in.

As digital natives and users of social media, we need to be responsible for using the technology given to us. Do not make it a place for false information and hatred. Instead, use it as a platform for various purposes that everyone can benefit, learn, and enjoy.

References:

Seymour, E. (2019). Gen Z: Born to be digital. Retrieved from https://www.voanews.com/a/student-union_gen-z-born-be-digital/6174519.html.

Rapacon, S. (2019). How Gen Z is redefining their world through technology. Retrieved from https://garage.hp.com/us/en/modern-life/generation-z-redefining-the-world.html.

NDMU. (2019). The evolution of communication across generations. Retrieved from https://online.ndm.edu/news/communication/evolution-of-communication/.

Belinne, J. (2019). Gen Z - The communication generation. Retrieved from https://community.naceweb.org/blogs/jamie-belinne/2019/07/23/gen-z-the-communication-generation.

Barcelon, B. (2010). The life of Generation Z. Retrieved from https://teenlife.blogs.pressdemocrat.com/10220/the-life-of-generation-z/.

Image & GIF Sources:

https://www.social-babies.com/post/2017/01/27/5-social-media-platforms-to-explore-in-2017

https://www.thedailybeast.com/generation-z-is-already-bored-by-the-internet

https://uploads0.jovo.to/idea_attachments/840592/homework-dribbble_bigger.gif?1544706789

https://gifer.com/en/gifs/syntax

https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/slang-1624575149.gif?crop=1.00xw:1.00xh;0,0&resize=980:*

https://ar.pinterest.com/pin/99994054211311292/?amp_client_id=CLIENT_ID(_)&mweb_unauth_id={{default.session}}&simplified=true

https://cdn.dribbble.com/users/1308476/screenshots/3438418/beboldforchange_dribbbleloop.gif

https://business.twitter.com/content/dam/business-twitter/basics/twitter-basics-2-tweetideas.gif

https://giphy.com/explore/online-safety

[hoshiwilluploadstuff]

In the Spider's Web || Phantom Troupe One-Shot ||

In the Spider’s Web (Phantom Troupe Fanfic)

Summary: She was a regular office worker born with the ability to “see” how dangerous a person is with a number scale of 1-10 above their heads. A toddler would be a 1 and a skilled soldier with a firearm may score a 7. Today, she noticed the reserved new guy at the office measures a 10. *writing prompt*

Warnings: Death, Character Death, and just death- there will always be dead people when its the Phantom Troupe

The offices were mundane as per usual. Yu had been assigned to a new floor to take care of the new employees, or so her supervisor said, but she knew that she had just been given the job because it was exhausting for him.

Lazy prick.

Yu’s eyes drifted off to the people on the floor. Some she knew, some she didn’t, and some just familiar. And just like usual, cloud-like numbers were above their heads ranging only from 3-4. People like her supervisor or those buffy looking fellows were around 5.

Yu had just gotten the ability recently. It helped when she’d walk home alone, who to be wary of, and who to not be afraid of.

“Ah, sorry.” Yu apologized for bumping into a guy. Oh, he was new. He looked like the usual tired office worker trying to get through the day like her. As she was about to introduce herself, her tongue froze.

10.

What?

That couldn’t be possible.

“You alright?” His voice was unusually calm for a new tired guy. He raised a brow.

Calm down, Yu.

Yu managed to wipe off the fear from her tone and laughed it off. “Yea- Yea! You must be new here- I’m Yu Nadmi, your finance manager. I’ll be taking care of helping you around the place.”

She waited for him to introduce himself, but he merely squinted his eyes at her. Scrutinizing her. She gulped. Yep, she was definitely leaving this place. She was quitting the first thing she left the room.

“Right.” He walked past her indifferently. If it hadn’t been for her ability, Yu would have told him off for disrespecting his senior.

But the 10 loomed over his head ominously.

Yu yeeted out of the place immediately. She’ll send in her resignation through email. She was never coming back to that place ever.

Goodbye, promotion.

She hurriedly packed up her stuff- makeup, food, personal documents- everything she owned into her bag.

“Yu, where are you going?” Her co-worker, Lisa, asked. “It’s not lunch yet.”

“My dog died.” was the first thing Yu said. She didn’t have a dog- she had a cute kitten by the name Steve so her parents thought she had a boyfriend or partner or something. Now, she needed to find a new home for Steve so he wouldn’t be murdered like her.

Oh god.

Steve would miss Yu terribly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Yu just nodded, faked a sob, then left. She was on the 4th floor of the building. She quickly pressed the elevator button. It was heading her way. Okay, great. This was just a bad day.

Ding!

The elevator doors opened. She nearly choked in horror. The 10 was haunting her. It was definitely haunting you. Three more people had the 10 over their heads.

What was today?!

The second tallest of the three, a blonde with extremely kind eyes, snapped Yu out of her frozen state. “Aren’t you getting in?”

She couldn’t say no right?? They’d know then. Oh my god.

Yu laughed. “Oh, sorry, I was just dazed.” She entered, feet becoming jelly, and stood beside the small woman with pink hair. She just hoped the fear didn’t ooze out clearly. The doors closed and she pressed the 1st floor. Her eyes couldn’t help but wander over to the floor that was pressed other than hers- 5th. The floor above hers- it led to the boss’ office alongside the other supervisors.

“Do you work here?” The tall blonde asked. You’d have flirted with him casually if not for the 10. Cursed 10.

Yu nodded. “Yea, just new actually.” The lie came out smoothly. “I just finished my interview.”

“Oh? So you’re leaving already? Too bad, you look really pretty.”

May the Lord bless Yu’s poor soul.

“Oh uh thanks… you don’t look too bad yourself.” The elevator dinged just as it stopped at the 5th floor.

“It was nice to meet you, miss. I hope your interview went well.” A bead of sweat rolled down her back as the three left the elevator.

“It was nice to meet you too, sir…” Her enthusiastic smile quickly dropped once the doors closed and her shoulders slumped into relaxation.

Okay, Yu got through that somehow.

But wait, she paused, realizing something.

The number of the elevator flickered to 4.

Only authorized people could enter the elevator from the lobby. And she knew every authorized person in this building. Even if those three were guests, an authorized person would have come with them.

Yu’s shaking hand went over her mouth as she gasped.

The elevator flickered 3.

If one person was at the 4th floor, 3 at the 5th, then...are the other floors even safe? She quickly looked around the small space. Her eyes landed on the square on the ceiling of the elevator.

The elevator flickered 2 and dinged.

“Oi, did you take care of everything on the 3rd floor?” Yu placed a hand over her mouth hearing unfamiliar voices beneath her. There was a pause, she guessed he was talking on the phone.

“Well, Boss should be pleased with how things are going.” Another voice she hadn’t heard of.

Yu held on the metal wire in fear.

“Hm? Did you press this?”

Oh God, if you are there, please let them ignore it.

“They must be done with the 1st floor and are heading up.” Yu’s shoulders relaxed at the other person’s reply.

Yu flinched hearing something wet and heavy drop. A bag, you hoped.

“Franklin’s almost done. Feitan is taking his sweet time getting info on the 4th.” The doors closed and she struggled not to fall over as it moved.

Should she call the police?! Yu didn’t know what to do but she hesitantly took out her phone and pushed it into silent mode. She has seen too many thriller movies that had phones kill them because it wasn’t silent.

She was clearly not going to be one of them.

The elevator dinged, reaching the 1st floor. Yu clenched her fists and looked around her. She hoped there was something you could do to stay on the 1st floor.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to head up to the 5th floor and meet up with the rest.” A woman this time. She sounded old, maybe around her early 30s. It was sharp and held a clear air to it.

Yu realized what she could do. She turned on the record.

“Oh, that was me- I pressed that.” A male? She wasn’t sure. But whatever, the police would take care of it if she got out of this alive. “Let's all head up together.”

If she got out of this alive, Yu repeated the thought with a gulp.

The elevator doors closed again and silence took over. Yu paused the recording and looked up. Her next problem…

She carefully, making absolutely no sound, lied on her back. It didn’t take long for the ceiling to appear and Yu clenched her fists as the ceiling came closer and closer and closer.

Then it stopped, several more centimeters more she would have been crushed.

The elevator doors opened, several footsteps echoed out, and the doors closed.

Now, the thing was, Yu would have entered back into the elevator but the amount of space left for her was impossible to even think of moving.

What the frick was she supposed to do? Was she just gonna lie there and wait???

Just then, the doors opened again. But it was rushed panting and pained groans that greeted her ears.

Someone escaped?

“Come on, come on, come on!!!!”

Yu could hear the constant press of the elevator button, most likely for the first floor. She pressed the palm of her hand tightly against her mouth as tears developed at the edge of her eyes.

“Please, please, oh God, please hurry!!!”

The voice belonged to her co-manager.

Her nails dug on the skin of her cheeks when the terrified scream echoed for only a brief second followed by the ‘shing!’ of a blade until the dark silence took over.

“Tsk, noisy cow.” Shaking fervently, Yu resumed recording to get as much as she could. She couldn’t have expected that they were all going to die.

The thought of Lisa, her co-worker, who innocently asked her where she went echoed in her mind. Yu was selfish, a coward, but even she didn’t know it was going to be like this. The tears escaped her eyes and her breathing constricted as a sob, a real sob, tried to break out of her throat. Breathing carefully, she remained motionless again.

Survive, Yu, you can do this. Steve’s waiting for you.

Her constricted breathing finally relaxed at the thought of her little black kitten waiting at home for her to walk and care for him.

Yu was determined to have Steve ready for adoption because even if she did survive this ordeal, the news would broadcast her survival.

She couldn’t have that. She met like four of the guys with that cursed 10 on their heads. They probably remembered her- she had to give Steve a home before she would be murdered.

“Oi, Fei, get that out. We don’t have Shizuku to clean shit up for us right now.” The voice- it belonged to the guy from the 2nd floor, it was deep.

“Tsk.” The other guy replied. Yu’s shoulders shook as the same fleshy bag was dropped heavily on the ground just past the elevator. Just then, the doors closed and the ceiling above her began to grow farther and farther away.

As the elevator descended, Yu paused the record again and returned to sitting upright. She wondered exactly why this was happening.

The office building she was in was called Spectrum that specialized in marketing. It wasn’t famous for that matter, but it did get rare items that could be bidded in auctions. However, Yu was sure that they didn’t have any rare items as of the month. After all, Yu was in charge of the budgets and there had been no significant changes at all. It was the usual low-grade items sold to the public. The last time they even got a rare item was a year ago.

The loud ding snapped Yu out of her thoughts. She carefully descended from the roof of the elevator, careful of making any suspicious sounds, and exited the elevator. Her hand immediately shot up to her mouth as the urge to retch took over her.

Piles of bodies stretched throughout the lobby. Familiar faces, friends, co-workers stared at her with blank and dead eyes, their blood mixed and pooled around one another. She felt sick seeing the red zero that floated just above their bodies. She had never seen her ability show a zero before. She quickly looked away and took deep breaths into her palm.

The faint smell of iron touched her taste and she doubled over holding back her breakfast. Fortunately, she stomached it back in.

Yu carefully walked over the bodies, careful not to step on the blood and even those zeroes and quietly maneuvered her way to the back door exit. She didn’t think twice to go through the front entrance. The less amount of blood dated all the way there meaning they weren’t scared going up front.

Soon enough, Yu was at the back door exit meant only for authorized people to go through. She quickly hid when a looming person appeared at the corner of her eye.

“I can’t believe I’m taking watch here. Shit.” A samurai? Yu was afraid to take out her phone to turn the recording back on. The back area was barely lit, except the lights that came through the windows. Her position would be seen if her phone screen lit up.

“I’m so fucking bored! I can’t believe I lost to those little shits on rock paper scissors.” The man continued to grumble. Yu shook at the 10 over his head.

Seriously, what the hell??? She just wants to go home, drop Steve at her parents place, then be happily killed. Or she could run away and live in the forest and become a naturalist. Yes, that sounded good too.

“Hm?” Yu froze at the knowing tone of the man. She could vividly hear him scratch his chin. “I can hear someone else here.” Hearing that, Yu immediately clasped her hand over her mouth and tugged her bag close to her chest.

Breathe calmly. Her throat constricted. Yu, calm down.

The scratching noise disappeared and Yu quickly buried herself deeper into her hiding spot.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Her heart beat rang in her ears.

Ba-dum.

The sharp ringing of silence accompanied her heart beat.

“Hm?” It was right by her ear and Yu sprang up and ran. But the collar of her shirt was pulled harshly and she cried out.

“NO!” She struggled hard, pressed the heel of her shoe on his foot, and slammed her elbow hard against his chest. She felt it in slow motion, the squish of joints on the heel and the jolt back of her elbow to her hand. There was an audible thump and a pained yelp behind her as she ran for her life.

Yu headed towards the bathroom. There was an open window for ventilation that she knew fit her size because obviously she had gone through there at some point in her job.

“Oi, Nobunaga, answer your damn phone.” Yu’s small frame slammed into a brick wall and she fell onto her bum. Gasping for her life, her frightened state stared up at the man she had seen in the elevator on the 4th floor. Oh God. He was bigger and wider in an open area.

“The little piece of-!” The samurai was behind her. This buff man in front of her.

She thought she was done for when the buff man looked down at his phone then at her.

“Saved us the trouble. Thought we had to search for your home.” The horror in his words didn’t quite register as the panic of trying to survive settled in. Yu quickly sprang up to dart away, but the buff man instantly grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder.

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” was at the tip of her tongue but she bit it back hard feeling the overwhelming strength behind his grip. Her nails dug the palm of her hand, but she tried to think rationally even at this point.

Why’d they need her???

“Lucky girl, I'd slice you open if you weren’t needed.” The samurai, Nobunaga grumbled in distaste. “What is so important about her?”

“Check your phone, idiot.” Yu nearly squealed when the man suddenly laughed, his shoulders shaking making her world go up and down. “What did she do to you to make you so fucking pissed?”

There was the sound of light tapping, Yu guessed was his phone, and a grumble of “Just shut the fuck up and let’s get to the 5th floor.”

Yu felt sick to her stomach as her world swayed around. It didn’t take long for her to be back in that elevator she had been stuck in for what was hours but was merely minutes, and back at the 5th floor she was dying to not go into.

The samurai and the buff man were busy chattering to themselves. Yu was just too dizzy and light-headed at that point to even listen to them. Her bag idly swung back and forth as she was carried away.

“Welcome back, miss~!” Yu was greeted by the enthusiastic blonde man when she was thrown to the ground half-heartedly. She grimaced at his warm smile. “To think an interviewee was actually the finance manager!”

Yu’s eyes met the frightened gazes of her supervisor and the rest of the team leaders. The number 5 floated above their heads. Their faces were contorted in fear and panic with blood splatter on various areas of their tied up forms. She noticed she was the only manager in the group.

“Is that all of them?” her eyes darted to the one who spoke, a blonde woman with a sharp accentuated nose. She knew her voice from the 1st floor.

“Shizuku already got rid of their boss so yea, that’s all of them.”

Why did they need her?

Just as the thought passed, the blonde woman’s eyes flickered over to her. Yu wearily scooched away when the woman approached her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The woman asked, placing a hand on top of Yu’s head.

Yu nervously looked around her and shook her head. If she was going to die, she hoped it would be quick and painless.

“No…”

“Is the book ‘Melody in the Poison Trap’ familiar to you?” Yu’s brows furrowed, carefully searched her memories, and shook her head ‘no’.

“You liar-!!!” Her supervisor's yelling was cut off by a sharp ‘shiiing!’. Even Yu had to nervously gulp at the samurai’s sharp blade pointed at her supervisor’s adam's apple.

“He told us that you knew of the book’s location.” Yu’s eyes flickered to her supervisor’s angered, panicked gaze and the blonde woman’s calm, indifferent gaze.

Yu carefully looked through her memories but the book that was mentioned wasn’t in any of them.

“The…” Her tongue was heavy as she carefully chose her words. “The only books or compositions that the company was interested in were La Flor Demente, violin piece of the Sonata of Darkness, and the Void Century. B-But the bidding got too high so we were unable to acquire any of them.” She locked eyes with her supervisor when she said the next statement, “There was no Melody in the Poison Trap.”

The blonde woman immediately took her hand off her head and nodded at her companions.

Yu couldn’t even react so much as a gasp when all of the team leader’s bodies were decapitated. Her eyes were still locked on her supervisor’s eyes as the light faded from them.

Once their bodies dropped and their number became a red zero was when Yu couldn't hold back her breakfast.

“Ugh, disgusting.” It was the new guy, supposedly the new guy, who commented while she vomited.

“It was fun seeing them come up with lies.” Yu recognized it as the smaller, softer voice from the 2nd floor. He was the smallest in the group with only his left eye visible from his mop of hair.

“Definitely, especially when they communicated with their eyes.” The enthusiastic blonde chimed.

“I should’ve stayed with the Boss if I knew the fight was going to be as boring as this.” The buff man groaned. Yu wiped her lips as she tiredly gazed at the killers. Her vision was starting to blur but she dug the nails into her palm to stay awake, focused.

“What we do with that? What Boss say?” The new guy grumbled, bringing Yu’s existence back into their focus. She was a ‘that’ now.

Yu pressed herself against the wall and hugged her bag close to her chest.

Why hadn’t they killed her?

Another blonde, but with no eyebrows, spoke this time. “We’re babysitting her.” He said it with a click of his tongue. He was the other guy on the 2nd floor. “Boss said that she’s important.”

“That’s it? Nothing else? Not have Paku over here or Feitan extract the information however they want??” The buff guy looked at his phone then at the blonde, eyebrowless man.

“Nope. We’re babysitting her.” The blonde man confirmed. “So, who’s taking her?” Yu watched as they grimaced looking at each other.

“Not me.”

“Me either.”

“Nada.”

“Nope.”

Or similar phrases were being thrown around like taking turns on who’s supposed to do the dishes for the night, except she was the dishes.

“Let’s flip for it then. Take bets on the majority two who’ll have to babysit her.” The warmer blonde said with a grin. They all confirmed with their own noises.

Yu couldn’t even relax, despite her death not being held by a string anymore. Not because of the dead bodies surrounding her, but because of the haunting 10 over the killers’ heads. All of them were a 10. Even the smallest guy was a 10.

How was that even possible?

The adrenaline from earlier had dissipated once she was dropped there. Her sharpened senses were dulling by the second and exhaustion took over her fright.

“You lose, Feitan!”

“Haha, loser!”

Her eyes drooped as her vision blurred.

“Fuck you, bastards!”

“Oi, don’t get pissed. We won fair and square!”

Then her eyes closed.

--

The cold crisp air caressed Yu’s barely conscious body and stirred her senses to awaken. Her arms were numb from being asleep for too long and pins and needles stabbed her from the tips of her toes up to her knees.

“Ugh…” Yu groaned. Her brows knitted together when a splitting headache hit her head.

“Finally up?” She jolted at the irritated and rough voice from beside her. It was the new guy with the 10.

“Yea…” She grimaced and held her head. “Where are we?” They were in a simple room with the basic furniture for a bedroom. Looking around, she found biscuits and a cup of water on the bedside drawer and a growl echoed from her stomach coincidentally.

“Take it.” The guy said before she could say anything. “Prepared for you.” He was playing with his phone. Yu knew it to be one of the trending moba games, Moba Saga. She played it frequently at home and learned about the heroes as well. She looked away immediately seeing how bad he was at handling a basic hero. Her tongue might be the death of her if she wasn’t careful.

She drank a bit of the water first then ate the biscuits then drank the rest of the water. While doing this, she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering to the screen and her face grimacing every time he made a wrong move.

Maybe he noticed her peering over because he handed the phone to her when his team lost the game.

“Try?” He said, but his words were opposite to the emotion in his eyes. Still, Yu was bored and her only company at the moment was this psychopath.

It’s not like she had a choice.

She shook her head. “I’ll just watch.” He hummed in satisfaction, to which Yu tried hard not to visibly roll her eyes at, and continued to play another PVP game. This time, she didn’t shy away from watching and leaned over to see the game.

He was using another basic hero this time, a jungler. Yu tried not to tell him what to buy, but it was just at the tip of her tongue whenever he just pressed a random item that had good stats. Barely 8 minutes in the game, he must’ve noticed her oozing anxiety.

“What?” He stated, rather than asked, in irritation.

Yu quickly waved her hands. “J-Just nothing. Keep playing.” Actually, she wanted to say- you could’ve dodged that- why did you buy that, your hero is physical not magical- don’t you know the skills of the hero???

She jumped in surprise when he shoved the phone into her hands.

“Then play.” His brows knitted in irritation. He actually looked cute, but the looming 10 was what made her listen to him. While playing, she began to take out one item at a time and replaced it with what she usually bought. In the 5 minutes she was playing, she got a triple skill and two double kills that scored the team their victory.

“Nice.” She muttered, completely forgetting the man beside her. She was about to play again when he snatched the phone from her hands.

“You know the game?” He asked before she could start a protest. Her lips formed a thin line, thinking there wasn’t any harm done, and answered him.

“Yea, I play it at home.” She leaned against the bed rest. “I usually play marksman or mid laner though. I only use jungler when everyone else is being stubborn.”

“Hm. So my play was bad?”

“Yep, pretty much.” She said before the question actually settled into her. In seconds, the man had a sharp knife against her throat. Now, she really was pressing herself deeply against the bedrest.

“So you think you better than me?” The man chuckled, or more like a manic giggle, and slid the blade just below her chin.

Yu really had to forget she just dissed a psychopath that his play style sucked, huh?

“Uh…” She felt the skin of her throat press against the blade as she gulped. “N-No? Y-You just don’t know how to use the heroes…” Her saliva was practically drying up with each word. “Y-You just started…” Seeing the gleam in his eyes, she knew he had been playing for a while. She choked out the “...right?” and prayed that somehow someway something was going to get her out of this situation.

And her prayers were kind of answered.

“Yo, Fei, don’t be a horny bitch. Boss needs her mental state ok.” It was the blonde, eyebrowless male. He was leaning against the open door of the room.

“Tsk.” Yu felt like he wanted to tell his friend ‘Fuck you’ based on his facial expression, but he did take the knife far away from her throat. She wearily rubbed her throat, the sensation of the blade still there.

“You.” She jumped hearing her name. “Let’s go. Boss wants to see you.” Her eyes flickered over to the new guy-why she insists on calling him the new guy? It was shorter than black-haired male-who got off the bed to follow the eyebrowless blonde.

She scurried to follow them as well. In the time she spent on the bed, she realized her work clothes looked awful- dirt, grime, and blood were stuck on the fabric. The memories of what transpired yesterday flashed in her mind.

Wait, how was she so sure it was yesterday? How long had she been passed out?

Her eyes stayed glued on the beige carpet floor while following the shoes of the men in front of her. They weren’t worried at all if she would run. Honestly, Yu didn’t think she could even outrun them.

In two left turns and one right turn, they finally passed a line that led to a room with wooden flooring. The crackle of fire greeted her ears as she looked up to survey the room. Her eyes immediately locked hard on the back plush armchair that was situated in front of the crackling lit fireplace.

A black question mark floated right above it.

She felt all color drain from her face at the sight. A question mark? What did that mean? This didn’t come with her ability handbook- not that she had one, but 1-10 were the only numbers she was told about.

There was no fucking question mark at all!

Yet it floated right in front of her, mocking her.

“Boss, she’s here.” She could faintly hear the eyebrowless man call out to the man called Boss. The question mark moved and she took a small step back when the owner of the dark question mark revealed his face.

Cold. It was as if every fiber of her being was turning into ice. That was the look in his eyes that was locked onto hers.

Beads of cold sweat trickled down her back when he gave her a small smile. Evil. It was as if Satan himself was right before her, chilling her to the bone.

“I hope my subordinates treated you well.” Even his voice was an icy wasteland, tempting to freeze her with every word.

“Y-Ye-Yea, th-th-they did.” Her teeth stuttered as if she was freezing in a pool of cold water.

“Are you alright?” His cool voice, the crease in his facial features, and his body behavior dripped with worry. But it just didn’t show in those cold, blank eyes.

Every moment spent with him felt like being chucked in a bucket of ice.

Her feet turned tail to run but a wide wall of muscle blocked her path. Heavy, panic breathing was pumping out of her lungs now. The screams, the pleads, the begging, and the cries were just lodged in her throat as she racked her brain how to get out of here, away from him.

Going by instinct, she jumped behind the large, burly man and cowered in fear.

“Boss, I think you scared the shit out of her.” The burly man chuckled showing a gleam of his canine teeth.

“Hm…how curious.” The boss’ smile dropped as he held his chin deep in thought. “Well, Miss Nadmi, I apologize for scaring you, but you have something that we are interested in.”

Interested in?

Her hands were still shaking and her breathing was still heavy, but if she didn’t answer him, all other eyes on her would make sure she would. And Yu didn’t want to tread to that scenario.

After licking her cold, chapped lips, she hesitantly answered. “B-Be specific.”

The decapitated heads of her team leaders, the dead bodies of her co-workers, and the horrified scream of her co-manager was fresh in her mind. But the soft meow of Steve, her little kitten, overpowered the dreadful event.

“An antique book, that had just been recently found, was logged in by your company a few weeks ago. The book is called the Dark History. I’m sure you’re familiar with it.”

She was, but not because of her company. She had just curiously searched for it when she saw it to be one of the interesting artifacts wanted by Spectrum. What he said even matched the time she was looking into it.

It was all her fault they even went there.

“Yes… But all I did was search for it in the listings- that’s the furthest I went.” Why? She wanted to ask, but bit her tongue.

The boss smiled. “Well, you see, just after that, it disappeared from the stocks of all markets. Right after you had searched for it.”

A chill ran down her spine from those words. Was he saying that she bought it?

“That book cost like 10 billion jenny- that’s more than 100,000 times my salary for 10 years, maybe even more.” She spat out her thoughts in shock. “A-All I did was check the description, the price, and ask for details from the seller that wasn’t covered in the description.” She clamped her mouth shut immediately. The temperature in the room somehow rose in heat after that.

“What kind of details?” He was still smiling.

Creep.

She gritted her teeth, the chill still on set on freezing her from inside. “The pages of the book, what it was made of, the author…”

“Pages?” The boss cut her off.

“Yes, the original Dark History is divided into sections of the history that was deleted from the world, categories filled of the forgotten past, and are then compiled into a specific set of pages of 777. If the pages are more or less than 777, it is a mere fake copy that wouldn’t sell a jenny.”

“You’re very informative about the book.”

Yu nodded frantically. “My dad was an avid collector of information for stuff like that. But he would go on and on and on about just the Dark History and how if in the hands of a powerful person, they’d be able to bend countries to their will.”

“Is your father still alive then?”

“Yes? He’s in his late stages of Alzheimer’s so even if you wanted to get information from him- you wouldn’t be able to.”

“And how did the seller reply to your questions?”

“He didn’t. I actually forgot about the book until…” Yu swallowed the thick glob of saliva down her throat, realizing just how much she just said. “...you asked.”

There was a long brief of ringing silence after that. The boss held his chin in deep contemplation. Yu was holding her breath wondering if she was dead now or dead later.

Was she useless now? Were they going to get rid of her now that she gave them the information? She couldn’t go just yet! Steve was waiting for her at home! He must be starving and...

“I guess you are free to leave now.”

“Oh God, please let me just give my cat to my parents so they can find a new owner for him!” She cried out and clasped her hands together as if in deep prayer.

A few chuckles and laughs echoed throughout the room. Yu was shaking and jittering like a fallen leaf off a branch that she didn’t find the time to feel embarrassed.

“She’s a riot. You’re letting her go that easy, boss?” The samurai, one of the 10s laughing, said.

The boss chuckled. “Yes. Miss Nadmi, you are free to leave. Don’t worry, my subordinates won’t harm you once you leave.”

Yu blinked slowly. Seeing that they were all just staring at her, was it true? She nodded slowly and muttered a soft breath of ‘ok…’ and left. The building she was in was an abandoned apartment complex that was beginning to decay from lack of use. It was already dark, maybe midnight? Meaning she had been unconscious for more than 12 hours.

She ran and ran until she was out of breath. As she was about to check her phone, she realized she had lost her bag and everything in it.

Still, it was better to be alive.

She was glad to find out that they didn’t actually take her to someplace far off from where her company was so she could find her way home easily.

People that were still wondering about at this time gave her odd looks, most likely from her awful and bloody appearance, but she just wanted to go home and check on Steve. Thoughts of calling the police, her parents, a hospital as a matter of fact- were all thrown out of the hill just thinking of Steve.

He must be starving, scratching and destroying anything and everything just looking for her. The thought made her tear.

It didn’t take long for her to arrive at her subdivision. Thankfully the guard was passed out, asleep, so she could go in without questions. She cursed the heavens above remembering her keys were in the bag, but she climbed up to the 2nd floor of the house knowing she had left the window unlocked in a certain way that would only open in a certain pattern.

“Meow.” The tears clouded her eyes seeing her little kitten at the doorway of the room she entered. Steve must’ve heard her and rushed to greet her. Steve quickly jumped into her arms and purred as she cried happily.

“Steve! I’m home, I’m home.” She hugged and kissed her kitten that smelled awfully like her detergent and perfume, but who cares- she could clean it up.

“Mrow...mm…” The little kitten purred against the spot on her chest that wasn’t spotted in dried blood.

“Yes, yes, I’ll get you food.”

The mess Steve made was grandiose. Yu didn’t know how he managed to spill all of her detergent onto the kitchen floor when it was originally in the upper cupboard in her downstairs bathroom. Her perfume, which was her mistake for leaving there, had fallen off the table and spilled its contents on her living room carpet.

She ignored that and prepared him his food. Steve happily ate and drank his warm milk, purring happily.

Thankfully, the little kitten had done his duties in the various litter boxes around the 1st floor.

“Right, right...I gotta call mom so that I’ll drop you off there…” Yu murmured as she dialed her parents’ number on the telephone.

After a few rings, an exhausted, hoarse voice spoke. “Hello…? Nadmi residence...this is their caretaker...ughh...speaking.”

“Yal! Oh god, I’m going to be heading over there in half an hour, okay? I need to drop Steve over. Something happened, I can’t tell what, but Steve can’t stay with me right now.”

“Is it your supervisor or that other supervisor this time?” The exhaustion in her voice dissipated and became serious.

“N-No, not like that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Did you drink too much milk again? You know that’ll send you straight to the hospital rather than the toilet.”

“Not that either! Just…I’ll be there ok?”

“Okay, Yu. See you.” The call ended and Yu hurriedly washed up. She prepared everything Steve needed from his bath soap down to his little pajamas. The little kitten had finished his business in the litter box when she finished packing everything.

“Ok. Ok.” Yu looked down at the notebooks and papers strewn about and grabbed them as well putting them in a separate bag for herself.

“Mrow?”

“Come here.” Yu picked Steve and put him in his little bag. Time was dwindling for her. Did they really think she wouldn’t notice them? Their bright 10s were clear from everywhere, even if they were greatly hidden. Their 10s could be spotted.

There was no way they’d just let her go so easily.

She gave Steve one last kiss before escaping through the back door. Yal would notice something’s wrong and check her home so Steve was going to be safe at the least.

Yu was sprinting as fast as she could without any sign of direction. She ran into the dark city with the stinking alleys and quiet roads while clutching the bag to her side. It held documents, notes, and pictures about the various antique books her dad researched, including that of the Dark History.

And it wasn’t something she wanted to sell her life for.

They were closing in on her but not going so far as to reveal their position. This was one of the gratifications of having the ability to see the numbers. Their 10s were bright in the darkness.

Finally, she stopped in an empty alleyway with no windows and no doors and turned to her stalkers.

“Right. You guys have been following me for a long time now. Come on out.” She said this oh so coolly, despite her nerves getting all bundled up into bits.

“Huh, I didn’t think you’d notice us…” A deep, southern voice spoke in the darkness. Two burly men stepped out into the light and revealed their presence. The bright, yet ominous 10 loomed over their heads.

Yu felt a bead of sweat trickle down her brow as her eyes widened in shock. Ok, she was expecting the people that had killed everyone in her company- not some unfamiliar people.

Now, she became unwilling to share the documents in her bag.

“You see, little girl, we’re curious as to why the Spider let you go.” The other one spoke in the same southern accent.

Spider?

“They don’t normally let anyone just leave so you must’ve escaped.” The deeper one said and revealed a large axe from his back. “Just answer a couple of our questions and we’ll let you be on your way.”

“I-I will…” Yu stuttered out and took a step back when they took a step towards her. “Just stay where you are.”

“We ain’t gonna hurt you, little girl.”

“We’re 4-star Blacklist hunters- our boss asked us to take care of the Spider. They must be pretty weak for you to be able to escape.”

Wow, what a day for her. Spider? Blacklist Hunters? What the hay were they even going on about?

“You were ordered to get them, not me.” She clarified with a scrunch of her brows.

The bigger burly man laughed. “We have little to no information on them, sweetheart. No one’s seen them and live to tell the tale.” Yu gulped at the darkness in their eyes. “And then there’s you.”

Yu was about to spout the information they wanted, hoping for the best, like before with the ‘Spider’, but then a question mark appeared right behind them.

Her jaw slacked. It didn’t hold the same ominous presence as the boss but it still made her feel off inside.

“What are you looking at, little-” Yu squealed when a bunch of cards lodged itself into the smaller burly man’s face and his body dropped onto the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“What the fu-?!” The other man faced the same fate and dropped to the ground too.

Her legs were practically jelly and being unresponsive despite her brain screaming her to run right now.

The question mark morphed into a 7 right after, making her eyes widen in surprise.

“Well, the little kitten looks quite surprised.” Yu gasped when the 7 flashed from the darkness and by her side. “The Boss told me to follow you but I didn’t expect you to have any company.” Goosebumps fleshed out on her skin at the toothy grin of a clown.

A clown?

“Wh-What…” She began but felt a sharp stab in her chest. She looked down to see a card, a queen of clovers, as she began to lose her breathing. He took the bag from her as she fell, blood coughing out from her mouth.

“Wh-...” Why? She wanted to say as her vision started to darken and blur. The clown gave a manic grin and flashed her a jester card.

“The Boss simply wanted to see how you turned out~” He cooed. Yu clenched her chest trying to breathe but air was just something she was not given. “You might’ve lived if you hadn’t tried to sell out the Spider. Your honesty really made the Boss curious.”

Hisoka chuckled to himself. “Oh, you’re dead already.” The light in the young woman’s eyes had disappeared and what was left was just a husk of flesh. He looked through the bag and hummed delightfully at the contents. It was what the Boss oh so wanted and maybe the other artifacts too.

His brow raised when a piece of paper that looked quite out of place jotted out from between the documents. Out of curiosity, he picked it up with his forefingers and looked at its contents.

‘Dark History - fake online listings. Don’t trust. Search for man name is Jehovah. Book not available in markets.’

His eyes widened slightly reading this and darted to the dead flesh of the young woman. Huh. A smirk curled at the edge of his lips before he crumpled the little note in his hand. What replaced it were red hearts to which he blew to the dead body.

“Fufufu, it's a good thing I didn’t let you live, weak little girl.”

--

Breaking News: Spectrum CEO is being sued for murder and the suspect of the missing employees of one of their companies. One employee managed to survive up until 3 am before her body was found in the city just nearby the CEO’s estate where he presided.

“Sh-She said she was going to be there in half an hour… I rushed to her home but her kitten was the only one there. The backdoor was wide open and...and…”

The police are still searching for more information on the missing employees and the gruesome death of young Yu Nadmi.

[diadhachd-galair]

Character Diamond

Intelligent The young prince does not possess a silver tongue, like his cousin the legate. Nor soldier's toughness or an astonishing command of a blade or ‘blessed’ magic of any sorts. Being young and leaning towards both kindness and honour, rather than self-gain and steep price of greater good, he is not a master of intrigue either. However, life at court taught him well. He can charm, deceive and hide contempt behind a smile, even if he is not the most marvelous player at the obscure art of intrigue. Despite loathing his mother’s ways, he obtained skills and knowledge of a poisoner during rare times she deigned to show any affection and cradle him upon her lap. However, most of the time Constantin prefers not to openly demonstrate his proficiency in anything but having fun and getting into trouble, even if he has quite a promising armory of intellect and could have become a master in many fields, only if he had chosen to apply himself with both patience and passion.

Whimsical temperament Constantin is a creature of contradictions, dual by nature. Often it makes him look like an inconsistent boy. He can be spiteful and hateful, hold a deadly grudge and sting as painfully like a poisonous serpent in wait, at the right moment. Or forget trespassing against his person with a chuckle, even if he’s planned to take a blade to your heart a moment ago. Death holds an unspeakable terror to him ( knowing that he has the malichor he shattered into hysterics ) and yet he wouldn’t think twice to lend a hand to nauts with a mysterious, clearly dangerous beast. In spite of it all, his mind is not a feeble one, even if he is brave mostly because he doesn’t allow himself any time to think and to get afraid. He is curious and enthusiastic, passionate and rash, but choosing between having revenge and having fun he is more likely to choose the later. In the company of friends, the young prince criticizes the ways of the court, and yet he believes in power, right and responsibility that comes with a noble name. Being named a governor has calmed his erratic behavior. Constantin is eager to do good, takes both pleasure and interest in his new role, coquettish complaints of boredom aside. Being away from his parents, whom he hates - a rare dark feeling, if not the only one he carries inside his heart - did him good. A race for dangerous pleasures, a bitter mutiny against rules, a desire to shock - all these caprices of an energetic mind, caged into passivity, have transformed into their virtuous counterparts. Even if the root of it has not changed. Constantin d’Orsay desires to prove himself fervently. This desire controls the majority of his decisions, both good and bad ones.

Felixious You can hold no love for Constantin and his caprices, but you can not deny he can charm the moon right from the sky. The secret of it is that his charisma is not a product of need or an artful deception. The young prince, behind a mask of naivety he puts on sometimes, is familiar with dark thoughts and dark ways of the world, yet chooses not to dwell on them. He knows the true face of the human race, in both its ugliness and grace, yet prefers to trust that at the end of the story a kind, sly and good hero always wins. This hope is his greatest allure; Constantin’s smiles rarely remain unanswered. His enthusiasm and sincerity are inspiring. He is sly, with a child-like mischievous slyness, and sincere with the same child-like purity. His cruelty is also that of a heartless child and often is born out of carelessness. Not being the most careful mind reader, he is sympathetic and prefers to act kindly. He doesn't forget a favour not matter how slight, and is generous to his friends ( and strangers ), despite a slight veil of vanity. He knows how to have a good time and often indulges in mischief for a laugh. Yet it seems even fate is charmed by Constantin d’Orsay; no matter what dangerous folly he has been engaged in, he was not scorched by it’s fires.

Unpoised Despite not being a coward or weak of will, Constantin lacks self-assurance to the level that he prefers to choke his intelligence and instead of applying his agile mind to the matter he hops from one action to another. Thanks to the father - who mourned the death of his elder son and in the act seemed to develop hatred towards the one who remained alive - there is a persistent voice in Constantin’s mind that he is but a gray shadow, not good enough to live or to make wise or strong decisions. Therefore, the young prince may act recklessly just to prove that he can do this or that, or to lash at those who question his authority or righteousness of his decisions with an unusual wrath. He might prove capriciously stubborn in his opinion or listen to wise advice, with Constantin it’s a constant gamble. Two things he is truly greedy of are: pleasure and acknowledgment.

[isadomna]

Alfonso VI of León & Urraca of Zamora

The two siblings were children of Fernando I "El Magno" and Sancha of León.  After the death of their father, Alfonso inherited the Kingdom of León and Urraca the city of Zamora, and the Infantazgo, that is, "the patronage and income of all the monasteries belonging to the royal patrimony" on the condition that she remained unmarried. The figure of doña Urraca is one of the most powerful of medieval Iberia. She is the pious and devout daughter, sister, and co-ruler recorded in the Latin historical chronicles, as well as the passionate and cruel temptress in vernacular chronicles and in the ballad tradition. Undoubtedly the wildest rumor surrounding Urraca is that of an incestuous relationship and even marriage with her own brother. Urraca and Alfonso's mutual admiration was well known in their day and alluded to in contemporary documents. Alfonso governed jointly with Urraca: "Adefonsus Serenissimus rex, una cum consensu sororis mee Urraka". Alfonso refers to her with the conventional but certainly true formulation "dilectissima adque amantissima sóror mea".

The earliest known written allegation of Urraca and Alfonso's incest appears in a work by the mid twelfth century Granadine historiographer Abu Bakr ibn al-Sayrafi. The second known early reference to Urraca's incest with Alfonso appears in Fray Juan Gil de Zamora's historical tract De praeconibus Hispaniae (c. 1278-1282). As in the Arabic version, Fray Juan alleges that the incestuous acts took place following the siege of Zamora and their brother Sancho's murder. Whatever motives Ibn al-Sayrafi and Fray Juan had in reporting the allegation, their testimony affirms the existence of early peninsula-wide epic poems containing narratives of an incestuous marriage between Urraca and her brother Alfonso VI. The original source of this report is impossible to ascertain. Lévi Provençal and Menéndez Pidal considered the incest accusation plausible. Catalán agrees, noting that incest was part of eleventh century reality. Alfonso VI's biographer, Bernard F. Reilly, doubts the incest charge. He sees "nothing innately surprising or sinister" in Urraca's sisterly preference for Alfonso and finds neither the Muslim source nor Gil de Zamora to be "convincing".

Urraca was a woman of status and power in a world of ruthless dynastic imperatives. Alfonso was what we would now call a warlord, constantly on the offensive, leading his nomadic court, intent on securing borders, keeping rebellious nobles under control, and fighting to reconquer al-Andalus. During their brother's long reign (1065-1109), both Urraca and Elvira exercised power equivalent to or greater than all of Alfonso's queens. Like their mother Sancha, Urraca and Elvira, had they married, would have been transmitters of lineage. From this point of view, the brother-sister marriage would have been a possible strategy to consolidate inheritance. With all other heirs defeated, the brother-sister liaison would have unified the previously dispersed paternal territories. Urraca did not need a royal marriage to exert influence: her privileged position as a member of the royal family and daughter of Fernando and Sancha and her own ability to use that position guaranteed her more prestige and authority than any matrimonial alliance. The Chronica Seminensis enthusiastically describes Urraca's fervent love for Alfonso, her maternal care for him, and her rejection of husbands and carnal relationships: 

Indeed, from childhood on, Urraca loved Allonso with a heartfelt fraternal love, more than the others. Since she was older, she raised him as a mother, and dressed him. She was distinguished by her wise counsel and probity. We affirm this not from rumors, but from our own experience, in that she disdained carnal relationships and the fleeting adornments of matrimony.

Subsequent Latin chronicles follow the Seminensis in characterizing the nature of Urraca's and Alfonso's relationship as that of mother and son.   

Because Urraca was very noble in her ways, Alfonso was commended to her by their mother and father, for she loved him more than the other children. At the time that King Alfonso conquered the Kingdom of León, he obeyed his sister Urraca as he would a mother.

The evolution of the scandalous Urraca persona was part of the jongleuresque anti-Alfonso discourse. Hostility to Alfonso, explicit in Islamic historiography and exemplified in Ibn al-Sayrafi's accusation, is summarized in the famous verse referring to him in the Poema del Mio Cid: " iDios qué buen vasallo / si oviesse buen señor!". In the epics of the Castilian juglares, in the chronicles which rephrased them, and in popular balladry, Urraca was the narrative scapegoat and sexual libel was the weapon of choice. The open and intense personal-political complicity between the two was translated into intense sexual complicity. The specific incest charge was certainly a serious attack, breaching, as it does, a nearly universal taboo, but in the end its narrative buttress was fragile. It never became as widely disseminated as the accusations of Urraca's fratricide/regicide, prostitution, and promiscuity. The exact nature of the relationship between Urraca and Alfonso, whether maternal, fraternal, carnal or platonic, can never be definitively reconstructed. Historical reality, as always, slips through our fingers.

Source:

Doña Urraca and her Brother Alfonso VI: Incest as Politics by Teresa Catarella. Published by La corónica: A Journal of Medieval Hispanic Languages, Literatures, and Cultures, Volume 35, Number 2, Spring 2007, pp. 39-67 (Article)  

[supremeuppityone]

Author’s note: This was written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events. Prompt: Pain. As an Original, Klaus thought he understood death. But it took meeting one brave human to show him how little he actually knew.

Warning: The angst is back. This idea came to me when I had a health scare earlier this year and I wasn’t quite ready to work through it until now.

Chapter 121: Special Care

“Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.” ― Isaac Asimov

           Klaus was a selfish man. But he couldn’t be selfish about this. This was not about his pain. He watched Caroline’s blue eyes light up as she cradled the delicate blue flowers he’d given her. It was foolish, but he imagined that his gift brought color back to her cheeks. She was far too pale. Klaus had met Caroline when he was traveling through the Andes, searching for a powerful shaman to assist him with locating the final ingredients needed to break his hybrid curse. He’d been in a right strop when he tore through the mountain village, dripping blood and chunks of flesh, and it wasn’t until he’d paused at a stream to wash off some of the gore that he heard the sweetest, most sarcastic voice.

           “If you keep scrubbing that hard, you’ll rub off all your glitter.”

           From her impish grin, he assumed his expression was quite comical, but for the first time in centuries, he found himself at a loss for words.

           “You’re a vampire, right? Seriously?! How do you not know about Twilight?”

           For the first time since that half-witted shaman had betrayed him, he burst out laughing.

           And that was the moment his life changed. Because Klaus had never met a human so full of life like Caroline was. But Caroline was dying. As he thought of the pain she’d endured, he could feel his temper flaring, wishing he could unleash his fury at this indifferent world.

           “Stop it, Klaus,” Caroline’s melodic voice commanded, taking him by the hand and leading him out into the garden. “It’s not your job to be angry at my cancer. Trust me — I’m angry enough for both of us.”

           He watched her fussily arrange the brightly colored flowers in the lopsided vase she stubbornly kept from his disastrous pottery lesson, frowning when he noticed how her knees started to shake. He guided her to the plush daybed, mindful of his supernatural strength as he felt how painfully thin she was underneath her gauzy dress. “Trust me, sweetheart, I was furious at the world ages before you came along.”

           “Yeah, but I’m special. Something about beautiful and full of light, blah, blah,” she said with a wink.  “And before when you were pissed off, you’d just slaughter a village until you felt better, but this is different.” Her voice took on a more serious tone, and she slid her gaze away from his. “It’s metastatic breast cancer. I have tumors throughout my body. I can’t be cured; the best I can hope for is to keep up my herbal treatments here.”

           He shook his head, doing his best to quell his anger. None of this was her fault. He knew when she’d first been diagnosed in the States, she went through the conventional chemotherapy before moving to targeted therapy treatments, but each time the cancer grew back. Finally, she’d exhausted all of her options, and instead pursued a variety of alternative herbal therapies that eventually led her to Argentina. “The kenaf seed extract and aromatherapy seem to be working,” he murmured, placing a kiss to her temple.

           Caroline laced their fingers together, a familiar note of caution in her voice as she gently reminded him, “It’s true in lab trials, the extracts killed cancer cells better than some of the other herbal supplements I’ve tried. But with metastasis, there’s peaks and valleys — sometimes the disease is stable, and other times it progresses.”

           “But you’re stable now,” he blurted out, hating the uncertainty in his voice.

           Her smile was sunshine and joy and all of the sweet promises Klaus fervently wished he’d known centuries ago. How different his life would’ve been. “It’s like I reminded my doctors when they tried to talk me about of moving down here. It’s about the quality of my life, Klaus.”

           They were distracted when a vibrant blue and green hummingbird appeared, hovering over the orange and yellow bell-shaped flowers. He heard Caroline’s heart flutter in excitement, and he did his best to ignore her shortness of breath.

           Turning away, he observed the hummingbird, an odd sense of peace washing over him as he observed, “Such an extraordinary thing, mercilessly beating its wings just to stay alive. I’ve never witnessed a creature with such fire in its soul, fighting to earn every moment of its life.” He glanced back at her, his gray gaze intense while his voice was barely above a harsh whisper as he said, “Except for you.”

           “Are you always so charming,” she asked dryly, reaching up to poke at one of his dimples. “Or, do you normally let your dimples do all the work?”

           Klaus gave her an indulgent smile. He loved her sheer cheek; the way she never backed down from him even after she saw what he was. She was glorious. His equal in every way. “Let me turn you,” he pleaded, “my blood can heal you, and then you can be with me.”

           “Ask me tomorrow.” She laid her head on his chest, palm resting over his heart. “I’m always surprised that I can feel your heartbeat. It’s strong — like you.”

           “And I can hear yours,” he replied gruffly, her erratic pulse sending him into a panic that he did his best to cover up with a smirk.

           “Isn’t it amazing?”

           Klaus found himself leaning into the warmth of her embrace, protectively draping his body against hers as they watched the hummingbird flit from one flower to another.

           Amazing.

                             _______________________________________

           “You’re going to drop me,” Caroline said with a giggle, her voice muffled against his shoulder and Klaus cradled her against him.

           “Nonsense, love. Even as a lad, I carried deer that weighed more than you. Even some of our goats.” As she rolled her eyes, he hastily added, “But you smell much better.”

           “And I smell bullshit.”

           Her delighted giggles made his heart feel like it was breaking and healing all at once. They came to a stop at the blanket he’d spread out on the dock, and he carefully laid her among several pillows. Lake Lacár was a magnificent sapphire blue today, and Klaus knew he’d always see Caroline’s fierce gaze reflected in its still waters. Gesturing to the wicker basket, he said, “I thought you’d enjoy a picnic.”

           He shyly handed her a glass, pleased that the witch’s freezing spell had kept the smoothies the perfect temperature. “This has ginger in it. I thought it would help with your nausea.”

           She beamed at him, taking a sip and nodding enthusiastically, “Delicious. You’re too good to me.”

           He ducked his curly head, cheeks reddening slightly. “Many things have been said about me over the centuries, but ‘good’ never was one of them. I’m not a good man, sweetheart.” Snorting derisively, he added, “I’m not even a man.”

           Setting aside their smoothies, Caroline huffed impatiently. “Who the hell cares? I certainly don’t. You’re smart and tough and fiercely protective. You’re basically a Rottweiler with dimples.” She leaned forward, briefly brushing her lips to his.

           Every time they touched, Klaus felt as though his soul was sinking into hers a little more, and he welcomed how his loneliness seemed to vanish. He cupped her cheek, thumb lightly grazing the sharpness he found there. “And you are a cheeky minx.”

           Caroline grinned, gazing across the water at the people paddling their kayaks. “Hey, when you finally get around to breaking your curse, will you take on more wolfy characteristics?” She placed her hand over his heart, her voice endearingly curious as she questioned, “I mean...do you feel your wolf now?”

           Klaus was stunned — no one ever had asked him that before. “Being cut off from my wolf is...hurtful. Sometimes I fancy I can feel it move through me, but I’m never sure. My birthright is there, trapped in my blood and bones.” He sighed heavily, “And it’s beyond my reach.”

           “Nothing is beyond your reach,” she swore vehemently, “you’re Klaus Mikaelson. You’re the man who survived an unspeakable, violent childhood and now has powerful supernatural creatures as his minions.” She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, dryly adding, “And you fearlessly attempted to teach me how to make alfajores.”

           “And then generously replaced your oven and repainted your kitchen.”

           Caroline playfully elbowed him in the ribs. “Okay, seriously? The first two fires were your fault. The third and fourth ones...meh, we’ll call it a draw.”

           Lips curling into a devious grin, he kissed her soundly, delighting in the tiny surprised squeak she emitted as he ran his hands down her back. He winced slightly as he felt the harsh ridge of her spine. She shuddered in his arms, and at first, he was alarmed that he’d hurt her, but then she moaned against him, dominating the kiss and he was lost within her.

           With a gasp, she finally pulled back, resting their foreheads together. A hitch in her voice was apparent as she said, “Just need to catch my breath.” Klaus found it endearing when she giddily told him, “I can feel my pulse. It’s racing! Isn’t that amazing?”

           “Amazing,” he agreed, cursing his supernatural hearing that told him her heart was pounding far too haphazardly. Needing reassurance, he lightly touched her chest, the feel of it moving with every breath both a blessing and a curse. “Will you let me turn you?”

           “Ask me tomorrow.” Caroline’s sunshine smile always filled him with warmth. He refused to see how her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

           When a jewel-toned hummingbird briefly hovered over the blue flowers near the edge of the water, her eyes lit up excitedly. “Do you think it’s the same one from the garden? Aww, he’s alone again. I hope he finds a friend soon. Everyone needs someone.”

                            _______________________________________

           Klaus knew something was wrong the moment Caroline didn’t answer her door. The morning felt different. Everything did. He took the spare key from the hideous ceramic frog she’d insisted on buying when they visited the village market because ‘it looked lonely.’ He loathed the panic in his voice when he called out, “Caroline?”

           He found her lying in bed. And far too still. And he could smell —

           No.

           Cursing his supernatural senses, Klaus flashed away, unable to be in her room a moment longer. That wasn’t Caroline anymore.

           Needing to feel close to her, he found himself in her garden. She loved being surrounded by flowers and once she’d grown too weak to tend them, she’d enlisted his help to keep everything blooming. Suddenly, a blue-green hummingbird flitted to the vibrant, bell-shaped flowers, and despite his sorrow, his lips quirked when he saw the hummingbird had brought a friend. Caroline would’ve liked that.  

           Caroline was gone. But she didn’t have to be. There was magic Klaus could use; a powerful coven was cheaper than buying an election these days. The right promises of power and protection coupled with the proper threats and even the most discerning of witches would pledge their loyalty.

           He clenched his fists, trembling. She would be whole again. Ageless and beautiful. And his. Except Caroline never wanted to be anything more than what she was. Human. All she’d ever wanted was more time. He saw it in her earnest gaze and bittersweet smile every time she rebuffed his offer. ‘Ask me tomorrow’ was her way of telling him she craved another day at his side as a human.

           Klaus was a selfish man. But he couldn’t be selfish about this.

[taesthetes]

cloud ten.

you’re my first and last.

pairing: kim taehyung x reader | jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, fluff type: soulmate au word count: 11,929 words warnings: none playlist: death by a thousand cuts (taylor swift) ⋆ you were good to me (jeremy zucker & chelsea cutter) ⋆ salvation (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ time lapse (taeyeon) ⋆ two (sleeping at last) ⋆ my first and last (nct dream) author’s note: sike you thought this blog was dead? i’m here to drop my biyearly update. shout out to t swift’s lover album for giving me motivation to finish this and thank you @nochanchu for listening to all my rambles ily mel ♡

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 AGE FOUR.

At only four years old, life was simple. Your favorite question comprised of three words: “What’s for dinner?”, and your biggest worry was being able to claim your favorite heels and purse that were both much too big for you during dress-up time at preschool. And the so-called disease labelled “cooties” that girls your age screamed every time they saw you and Jungkook playing together at the swings was something you did not care about. Jungkook liked superheroes, and so did you, and that was all that mattered in terms of forming friendships for you.

At only four years old, a girl in class informed you that girls and boys who were friends meant they were boyfriend and girlfriend. You didn’t know what that meant. So she asked you if you loved Jungkook, and you didn’t know what that meant either. She said that it meant that you wanted to kiss him the way Cinderella and Prince Charming kissed. You and Jungkook were curious, and that was how your first kiss happened inside the large, multicolored, plastic rocket that stood in the corner of the playground area. Jungkook’s lips were red and slightly chapped, and you did not like the kiss very much, so you guessed that meant you did not love Jungkook.

At only four years old, you didn’t quite understand what love was yet, but all you knew was that your stomach did funny flip flops whenever you were in the presence of a certain six year old who lived next door named Kim Taehyung. You liked the way his eyes always sparkled like the pretty stars in the sky and how he always saved his grape flavored fruit snacks for you because he knew they were your favorite. His lips looked pink and soft, and maybe, just maybe, you might be okay with kissing him the way Cinderella and Prince Charming kissed.

At only four years old, you learn about the soulmate system.

It was an ordinary afternoon when the newfound concept of soulmates is introduced to you. You and Jungkook had walked home together with Taehyung from school and are now sitting on the couch, munching on fruit snacks and juice in front of the television set. But the show playing on the screen is long forgotten, and you are wide eyed, soaking up every single word that came out of Taehyung's mouth. Said boy speaks in hushed whispers as if he is revealing top secret information, but punctuates every sentence with wild hand gestures.

"You see the cool gold tattoos that our parents all have? That's 'cause they're soulmates!"

"They're all soulmates together?" Jungkook scrunches his nose as he frowns in confusion, and you tilt your head in agreement, mouth still preoccupied with the straw puncturing your apple juice box.

"No, silly! Your mommy and daddy are soulmates to each other," Taehyung points at Jungkook before continuing, "And _______'s parents are soulmates to each other."

"How do you know that?" you pipe up, looking at the older boy with your interest piqued.

"They all have gold tattoos. I heard some big kids talking about how they only turn gold when you meet your soulmate." Tae explains importantly, "And you get your tattoo when you're older!"

“How much older?”

“Eighteen!”

You scrunch up your nose in disgust. “That’s old.”

"What happens if you don't like your soulmate?" Jungkook asks, staring at Taehyung with anticipation, his fruit snacks now abandoned on the cushion next to him.

"Why wouldn't you like your soulmate?" you interrupt, perplexed as you squeezed the now empty juice box in your hands, before Taehyung could answer. "You and your soulmate are perfect together."

"Well, who do you want to be your soulmate?" Jungkook points his stare at you now, and your cheeks turn rosy as you avoided his gaze.

"Um..." You peek over at Taehyung, who gives you a toothy grin, and your face becomes an even darker shade of crimson as your stomach begins to fill with butterflies again. "... Taetae?"

Jungkook's impossibly large doe eyes widen even more at your answer in surprise, and Taehyung beams happily, his eyes rivaling the crescent moon. The butterflies multiply in your tummy as he plops down on couch next to you and grabs your hand innocently.

"I want you to be my soulmate, too!"

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE FIVE.

As kids, your attention span was smaller than a goldfish, and the topic of soulmates did not come up again until the following year. Taehyung burst through the front door of your home and skids his way into kitchen. Being older than you and Jungkook, his school day would last longer than yours now, a fact he often complained about. Jungkook suggested Taehyung move down to your and his grade, but Taehyung’s mother said no and the boy sulked for the rest of the day.

You and Jungkook are quietly settled at the table, drawing pictures of your respective families that are needed for class tomorrow. Your teacher announced that the following day would be Parents’ Day in which one or both of your parents will come in. You will show them around your classroom and give them your drawing as a present. And most importantly, there will be cake and juice.

Taehyung peers down at your drawing with slight interest before plopping himself down in one of the empty chairs and grabbing a chocolate chip cookie from the center of the table for himself.

“Today, I got to see my teacher’s tattoo change,” he announces loudly, munching on his snack.

Your curiosity piqued, you look up at Taehyung, all thoughts of finishing your drawing flying out the window. Jungkook carefully finishes the family member he is working on before capping his marker and placing it down, his eyes inquisitively trailed on Taehyung now.

“What was it like?” you ask eagerly, bouncing in your seat as Jungkook stares at Taehyung, impatiently waiting for his answer as well.

“Well,” Taehyung starts, his voice hushed as if he is divulging an important secret. And in a way, he is. “Miss Kang was helping me add numbers together and then the new fourth grade teacher, Mister Jung walked into the classroom on accident. I think he got lost, but when Miss Kang saw him, her tattoo started getting all shiny! She showed it to us before and it was a boring black, but I saw it start to shine! It was like glitter!”

“What happened next?” you ask, eyes round in anticipation, as Taehyung slowly takes another large bite of his cookie.

“I touched her tattoo and told her it was glowing! And we stared at it until it turned all gold!” Taehyung says enthusiastically, crumbs spraying everywhere. “And Mister Jung’s tattoo was gold, too, and he asked Miss Kang out for… oh, what’s that drink grown-ups always have? The one that your mom says makes you short?”

“Coffee!” you supply, and Taehyung nods at you fervently, “Yeah, that one!”

“Coffee is gross,” Jungkook quietly says, scrunching his nose. “He should get her milk.”

“Yeah,” you agree, frowning a little now. “Or apple juice. I hope my soulmate likes apple juice.”

“I like apple juice!” Taehyung exclaims, grinning at you, a smudge of crumbs and melted chocolate on his cheek. You smile back at him happily. Jungkook observes the two of you quietly, eyes flitting back and forth between you and Taehyung.

Apple juice is good. But he still likes milk better.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE SIX.

In a make-believe world fueled by your mind and Jungkook’s, you become superheroes, race car drivers, astronauts, dragons and knights—because you refuse to sit in the treehouse like some prissy princess. It’s much more fun to pretend to be a dragon and chase Jungkook the knight with your fire breathing skills, conjured up with bits of orange and yellow construction paper and a sprinkle of imagination.

You are in the midst of another game of pretend when Taehyung stops by, waving around one of those twenty-four pack of markers that every kid on the block envies. “_______! Kookie! Want to try out the new markers I got?”

Game now forgotten, you and Jungkook hurriedly stumble over to Taehyung, following him back to his house where he haphazardly spread the markers across the kitchen table. The three of you settle down with sheets of paper and markers of your favorite colors, happily scribbling across the blank canvases. Engrossed in your art, none of you hear the front door open, and Taehyung’s older brother and his friend entered into the kitchen.

“Jinnie! Was basketball fun? Are you on the team?” Taehyung bounces in his seat, his attention focused fully on his brother. Seokjin grins as he opens the refrigerator door for some milk. Yoongi stands next to him quietly, but a proud smile adorns his face.

“Yeah, I made it onto Yoongi’s team! We have a game in two weeks, and coach said I can play shooting guard!” Seokjin exclaims, beaming, and an identical smile is found on Taehyung’s face. “Maybe mom can take _______ and Kookie, too, if they want to watch?”

“Yes! I wanna watch the game, too!” You nod fervently, and Jungkook echoes your agreement.

“Let’s make a banner for their team!” Taehyung suggests, and the three of you busy yourselves with making a brightly multicolored sign that might even put actual rainbows to shame.

Yoongi quietly observes how Taehyung carefully passes markers between him and you as Jungkook silently and slowly works on his corner of the banner. Seokjin and Yoongi slip away from the kitchen wordlessly, leaving you three alone.

“You think they’re soulmates?” Yoongi asks, nudging his friend as they make their way up to Seokjin’s room.

“Who? Tae and _______? Or _______ and Kookie?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Either one.”

“Maybe. Who knows?”

“If they are, it’s gonna suck for one of them.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE SEVEN.

“This is Jiminnie! He’s in my class, and he just moved here.”

Taehyung introduces you and Jungkook to his new friend, a chubby cheeked boy with nicely combed black hair. Jungkook hides behind you, peeking out and carefully scrutinizing the newcomer. Jimin shyly waves at the two of you, and you do the same cheerfully.

“We’re gonna go ride our bikes to the park. See you later!” Taehyung pulls Jimin away with him, leaving you and Jungkook standing in your front yard. You stare at them riding off wistfully. Their bikes don’t have training wheels anymore. Maybe you can ask your mom to take those off later. You are a big girl now, too, right? Maybe Taehyung will let you play with him and Jimin if you can ride your bike without training wheels, too.

“I’m gonna take the training wheels off my bike,” you announce, and Jungkook frowns, furrowing his eyebrows.

“That’s dangerous! You can’t do that.”

 “But Tae doesn’t have training wheels,” you points out before Jungkook tugs at your sleeve.

“Because he’s a big kid and he and Jimin are playing big kid games. Let’s play Mario Kart. We don’t have to take turns because Tae isn’t here.”

You follow after him to his house, sulking. “Does this mean he’s not gonna play with us anymore?”

Jungkook scrunches up his nose. “I don’t know. But we’ll have fun! C’mon, let’s play before you have to go home for dinner.”

“Okay…” You trail behind him, looking over your shoulder once more in the direction of the park.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE EIGHT.

You stand at the base of the tallest tree in your neighborhood, craning your neck to see the highest branches above your head, as Lisa and Rosé huddle together nearby. Lisa had climbed up a few of the branches earlier before quickly clambering down. Yugyeom and Jaehyun are already sitting on some of the branches, calling for Jungkook to climb up with them.

“C’mon, Jungkook! Race you to the top! Winner gets a whole carton of chocolate ice cream!” says Jaehyun. In a flash, Jungkook nimbly makes his way up the tree, rapidly reaching the other two boys.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you too want the ice cream, but the thought of climbing up all those branches makes you shudder. Your stomach wins over your mind however, and you start the ascent mere seconds later.

“Be careful, _______!”  Rosé cries out, but you rise even higher than the three boys, who watch you in awe. Finally, you are perched precariously on the top branch, grinning down widely, as the other two girls now cheer for you.

“_______ gets the ice cream.” Jungkook shrugs, sliding down from his seat and beginning his descent. Jaehyun and Yugyeom mumble in agreement as they start to get down as well. The smile on your face that might as well be the spitting image of the Cheshire cat’s now dims when you see how far you really are from the ground. Hastily, you wrap your arms around the trunk of the tree, clutching on for dear life.

“C’mon, _______, let’s go get ice cream,” says Yugyeom as all five of your friends waited at the bottom, looking up at you.

“I can’t! I don’t think I can get down.” Your bottom lip quivers slightly, but you keep the tears at bay.

“Should we get an adult?” Lisa pipes up.

“No! We’re gonna get in trouble for climbing.” Others chime in agreement, and you almost regret climbing up here, but the prospect of getting ice cream still shines in your mind. You tighten your grip around the tree, clinging to it.

“What’re you doing?” A familiar voice is heard, and soon, Taehyung stands under the tree with Jimin in tow.

“_______’s stuck!” exclaims Lisa as the others point up to where you sat, trembling. Taehyung and Jimin both look up at the same time, eyes widening when they see your tiny figure at the top. You try to give them a brave smile and a wave, but you quickly put your arm around the trunk again. In a flash, Taehyung clambers up to where you were.

“I’m gonna climb down first, but you follow after me, okay? I’ll show you where to put your foot to get down,” he instructs you, and you nod. He stretches down, finding his footing, and settles on a lower branch. You try to mimic him, foot dangling down, and you tremble slightly.

“Almost there!” he cheers, and you find the right footing before carefully moving down and sitting next to him. He beams at you, and you smile back at him, relieved. The two of you follow the same pattern until you finally reach the ground to your utmost relief.

The two of you split the ice cream.

After all, he reached the top, too.

And you don’t mind, of course.

It’s Tae after all.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE NINE.

You and Jungkook are sprawled outside on your front porch, a pile of board games stacked haphazardly next to you. The game of “Sorry!” spread out in front of you barely piques your interest as you keep glancing out towards the yard. Jungkook grows tired of reminding you to roll the dice every time it was your turn, huffing loudly in annoyance.

“What are you looking at?”

You whip your head back towards the game, automatically reaching for the dice. “Nothing.”

He scoffs, “It’s my turn. Pay attention, dummy.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Then why didn’t you go already, dummy?”

“It’s no fun when you’re not paying attention,” he complains before throwing the dice and eyeing the large red construction paper next to you. “Stop looking for Tae.”

Your face immediately feels warm before you screech out, “I’m not!”

“Hi, _______!” Taehyung’s voice rings out and you quickly turn to see him standing at the edge of the front lawn. Hurriedly, you scramble up and pick up the crimson paper beside you. Rushing down the front steps, you skid to a stop in front of the surprised boy and thrust the valentine into his hand.

“This is for you!” you manage to stammer out, digging the toe of your shoe into the dirt anxiously, as you clasp your hands together behind your back. He grins widely, eyes forming miniature moon crescents and sparkling as they always do like the stars in the night sky. He gazes at the brightly decorated card with delight, and perhaps, your little heart speeds up a tiny bit.

“Thank you!” He digs around his pocket before pulling out a purple wrapped lollipop. “I got this for you, too. It’s grape flavored!”

Nine-year-old you nearly swoons, and that was the moment when you knew you wanted Taehyung to be your valentine every year after that.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE TEN.

“Hey.”

Jungkook pokes your shoulder harshly. Both your parents had finally agreed to let you both have a sleepover in his treehouse, so the two of you lay side by side in sleeping bags, surrounded by an abundance of snacks and several stuffed animals.

You roll over to face him, poking him back with just as much force. “What?”

“Do you…” he hesitates before continuing, “Do you believe in love?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, hugging your pillow to your chest.

“But… you know Jin and his girlfriend?” he asks, and you hum in acknowledgment. “What happens if they find out they’re not soulmates? But they love each other?”

You stop fiddling with the zipper on your sleeping bag. “Well… if they love each other, then why wouldn’t they stay together?”

“But they’re not soulmates.”

“Does it matter? They’re in love.”

Jungkook sits up, wide eyed. “Wouldn’t you love your soulmate? When you meet them, you fall in love.”

“But do you stop loving your girlfriend then if she’s not your soulmate?”

“Well… a soulmate bond is stronger than that,” he says confidently.

“Huh,” you mull over his words before a sly grin spreads across your face. “Does this have to do with the new girl in our class? Is little Kookie in love? Does he want her to be his soulmate?”

“Shut up!” His face turns red before he throws his pillow at you. Laughing, you toss it back at him, hitting him square in the chest. He falls back onto his sleeping bag, glaring at you.

“I feel bad for whoever’s gonna be your soulmate.”

“Right back at you, Kook.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE ELEVEN.

At age of eleven, you experience your first heartbreak. It’s funny how a boy can break your heart when he never knew he held it to begin with. You didn’t even realize that’s what heartbreak is until that moment. All you knew is that you didn’t want to see him holding her hand anymore.

“Hey, _______! Jungkook!”

You and Jungkook stop in your tracks and turned to see Taehyung waving excitedly at the two of you. Your eyes immediately drop to where his hand is being tightly interlocked with a very pretty girl’s. When he halts in front of you, you can feel Jungkook nudging your arm subtly.

“H-hey, Tae,” you manage to mumble out.

“I just wanted you to meet my girlfriend!” he says proudly, and the girl smiles at you shyly, introducing herself. The two of them continue speaking to you and Jungkook, but you can’t for the life of you pay attention. She is simply too pretty, too nice, too perfect, and you want to throw up.

“I-I need to go—stomachache.” You dash up the block and up the walkway to your house, fumbling with the keys before letting yourself in. Jungkook is startled, only staring at your retreating figure, before turning to face the surprised couple. “I’m gonna go check on her. Nice to meet you.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Taehyung says, concerned, and Jungkook almost found himself glaring at the older boy. “Yeah, me too.”

Jungkook quickly departs, letting himself into your house. He makes a beeline to your room where you are curled up in the center of your bed. Clearing his throat, he awkwardly stands in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, uh, I can beat him for you?”

You let out a strangled laugh, sitting upright. “No, it’s okay. Just… pretty dumb of me to have a stupid crush on him all this time, huh? What was I thinking?”

Jungkook shuffles over and sits on the edge of your bed. “You’re not dumb. Taehyung’s the dumb one. And if you ever tell anyone I said this, I will eat all of your Hot Cheetos stash, but… he doesn’t deserve you anyway. My best friend deserves someone who isn’t dumb.”

You smile gratefully at him. “Thanks, Kook.”

“Anytime.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE TWELVE.

“So you… broke up with him?”

“Yeah.”

You sit cross legged on your bed, idly twirling your pen in hand, as you continue to work on your science homework. Jungkook stares at you, mouth agape and math worksheets abandoned. You and Minghao agreed the two of you were better off as friends, and that was that.

“But why?”

“I just…” you shrug, tossing the pen onto the comforter and leaning back onto the palm of your hands. “I didn’t like him that way. I thought I did, but when I was with him, I don’t know, it felt like hanging out with a friend. What about you and Eunbi?”

“Oh. We broke up a week ago,” he mutters, fiddling with the edge of the sweater sleeve.

“What? I thought you liked her! You liked her since last year!”

“She didn’t feel like my soulmate.”

“Soulmate?” you repeat incredulously. “We literally just got our first boyfriend and girlfriends, and you’re already thinking of soulmates?”

“Well, you broke up with your first boyfriend, too,” he fires back.

“Yeah, because I didn’t like him that way,” you explain slowly, “But you just broke up with her because you didn’t think she was your soulmate? How can you even tell who your soulmate is?”

“I’ll know!” he exclaims defensively before smirking and leaning forward, “Just like how you know Taehyung is your soulmate.”

Your face flushes, and you scowl at him. “He is not my soulmate.”

“But you want him to be,” he teases you, and you throw a discarded crumpled paper at him. He easily dodges you much to your disdain. “Well, you didn’t deny it.”

Your voice is quiet when you finally answer him.

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE THIRTEEN.

At the age of thirteen, you discover red tattoos. No one had told you anything about them before, and you didn’t even know they existed until Yoongi showed up at Jin and Taehyung’s house with one. While Jin was ecstatic about the discovery of his own tattoo and his girlfriend’s turning a pretty shade of matching gold a few months earlier, the same could not be said for his friend.

When Jin quickly pushes Yoongi past everyone with prying eyes and up to his room, you hear faint mumblings from the smaller teenager about not wanting to go home just yet. Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook had begun to shout happy birthday, which quickly dies down when the two older boys brush past them, ignoring the drooping birthday banner entirely. You are the only one to see the new glaring tattoo on Yoongi’s wrist. You recognize the name as belonging to a very kind upperclassman who had graduated from your middle school a couple years ago. But what you don’t understand was the color of the tattoo.

It is crimson.

When you go home that day, you ask your parents during dinner why a tattoo would be scarlet. Your parents exchange indiscernible looks before your mom quietly answers your question.

“Your tattoo turns red when you meet your soulmate... but their soulmate isn’t you.”

At only thirteen years old, you learn that the soulmate system isn’t fair.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE FOURTEEN.

After encouraging Jungkook to try out for football and finding out he made the team, you no longer had a walking buddy to go home with. When Taehyung found out about this, he had taken it upon himself to designate himself as your new walking buddy. And every day, without fail, he greeted you at your locker, and the two of you started the journey back home.

You were halfway to your houses when Taehyung halted in his tracks, dropping his backpack on the ground and unzipping it before rummaging through its contents. You patiently wait for him a few steps ahead, gazing at the pretty flowers blooming alongside the road.

You hear him close his backpack and make his way towards you once more. “Hey, can you hold this for me real quick?”

You outstretch your hand, paying no mind to whatever it is, when he nimbly slides his fingers through yours and squeezes your hand gently. His hand is large and warm, enveloping yours completely in a way that makes you feel safe instantly. Eyes widening, you stare down at your intertwined hands, mouth agape.

“I—we’re holding hands,” you manage to stammer out, and he smiles at you, albeit nervously.

“Is that okay? Sorry, I should have asked first and—”

“No, it’s okay, I like yo—I mean, I like it.”

There’s an ear splitting grin across his face now as his eyes sparkle like the stars. “Were you about to say you like me?”

“W-well, I—”

Stammering, you start to back away, but Taehyung tugs you towards him. Your face can rival a tomato at this point, but all you can focus on is how close his face is to yours. You can count nearly every single one of his long dark lashes framing his pretty eyes, and you so badly want to kiss the little mole on the tip of his nose. He gently places a kiss to your cheek, and your heart nearly implodes.

“I like you, too.”

You don’t think it’s possible to feel any happier than you did that day.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE FIFTEEN.

Jungkook lounges around on your bed as you pace back and forth in front of him in your heels. Taehyung is taking you to junior prom, and you had spent months, searching for the perfect dress, and even had Jisoo and Joy come and do your makeup and hair.

“Calm down. You look fine.” Jungkook says, looking up from his phone.

“What if I trip and fall down the stairs? What if I spill food? Oh god, what if I step on his foot during the dance?”

“_______, listen to me.” Jungkook stands up in front of you. “I’m one hundred percent sure that if you trip and fall, Taehyung will help you up. If you drop your food, he’d get you a new plate. If you step on his foot, he’ll still love you.”

“We, uh, we’ve never really said the L-word yet,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“_______, he’s whipped,” your best friend deadpans. “Trust me, he’s in love with you.”

When Taehyung knocks on the door to pick you up, your father sets him with a steely look before letting him in. He waits anxiously for you with your corsage in his hands. And when you descend down the steps, he is absolutely enamored. He nearly drops the flowers and stumbles over his words as he tells you that you look beautiful. He shakily slides the corsage onto your wrist, and your mother refuses to let the two of you go without taking a dozen or so pictures.

He drives the two of you to the dance, hand clutching yours the entire time. The two of you loudly sing along to every love song on the radio, and he presses your hand to his mouth, leaving a soft kiss, at every red light.

When the two of you are at the dance, he pulls you closer for every slow song. At some point, you pass by Jimin, and he winks at you before whisking off his date. The paper decorations and crinkling stars spin around gently overhead as the blue lights are dimmed, and Taehyung softly sings along to the ballad to you. You rest your head on his shoulder, swaying along to his voice.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs, and you raise your head to look up at him. His hair is ruffled, and there’s the softest expression on his face as his eyes shine. He leans down and captures your mouth against his. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, a hazy smile playing on his lips.

“I love you.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE SIXTEEN.

Taehyung knocks on your window at 11:55 p.m. and you carefully open it, scared of waking up your parents. He crawls in before pulling you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into the cozy sweater he is wearing.

“Five more minutes until your birthday,” you murmur, and he squeezes you to his chest even tighter. You can hear his heart thudding so quickly, and you imagine yours is the same.

“I wish time would stop. I want it so badly to be your name,” he whispers, and your heart almost stops. “If it’s not yours…”

He can’t bring himself finish the sentence, and you tilt your face towards him to kiss him gently. When you pull away, he laughs softly, leaning down and giving you one more kiss.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to ever stop loving you even if it’s not your name, sunshine. Your laughter, your smile, your very being, I don’t know if I can live without you.”

When midnight comes, you and Taehyung stare at the black ink now permanently found on his wrist: your name in pretty cursive. He embraces you, laughing breathlessly, as he can’t tear his eyes away from the new marks on his skin. He tenderly traces his finger across your cheek before cupping your chin and leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours. His eyes hold all the stars in them as he stares into yours with the loveliest gaze.

“It’s you. It’s always been you. You’re my first and last.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE SEVENTEEN.

It is the day before Jungkook’s birthday, and you know he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life. He texts you nonstop the moment he wakes up, asking you if you think the new pretty transfer student could be his soulmate or maybe the girl who sits three seats behind him in AP Physics. Or perhaps, his soulmate lives on a different continent and in that case, how is he supposed to meet her then? You reassure him about all his worries, and he continues to message you about the various scenarios he’s conjured up in his mind about how they will meet and how he’ll ask her out.

Your phone buzzes nonstop up until midnight.

And then it’s radio silence.

He leaves your text message unanswered when you ask him who she is. You are left wondering the entire night. Perhaps, it’s someone he doesn’t like. Maybe she already has a soulmate. What if he didn’t get a tattoo?

He continues to evade you at school and everywhere else. His friends prove to be no help, and when his mother can only offer you an apologetic smile when you visit his house for the nth time this month, you finally give up.

Losing your best friend hurts more than you can ever imagine.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE EIGHTEEN.

Today is the day.

Today was not just any Friday or your regular school day. It was The Day. You had woken up earlier than usual, giddier than usual, as you went through your morning routine and set off for school. Classes felt as if they went in slow motion; you were more preoccupied with watching the hands of the clock tick tock around and around in circles until it reached 3 p.m. Your friends all gave you shouts of encouragement, and you waved at them before rushing home.

You tried to concentrate on your homework and managed to do the bare minimum needed. Dinner was a rushed affair, and your parents exchanged knowing looks.

After all, today was the last day without a tattoo.

When midnight appears, you will finally have the name of your soulmate written upon your skin.

You are pacing back and forth in your room, impatiently waiting for the last few hours to trickle by, when the doorbell is heard throughout the house. You hear your father opening the door before the sound of footsteps are pattering up the stairs.

“How have you been, sunshine?”

Eyes widening and heart nearly stopping in your chest, you immediately turn your attention to the figure leaning against the doorway. Taehyung widely smiles back at you, and you immediately rush into his embrace, burying your face in the space between his neck and shoulder.

“I’ve missed you!” you manage to mumble out despite pressing your face into his shirt, inhaling as you are hit with the familiar faint scent of strawberries, pine, and home. His laugh vibrates through his chest, and he presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you, too. I tried to take the earliest train after my last class to come here, but I’m a little late, sorry. But I made it! Oh, and here! I got you these.”

He presents to you a lovely bouquet of sunflowers, lavenders, and baby’s breath. “The flower shop lady helped me pick them out, and I even learned the meanings of each one.”

“They’re gorgeous,” you breathe out, carefully taking them into your hands. “Thank you so much, Tae.”

He grins sheepishly. “Anything for you.”

When the two of you finish getting a vase and arranging the flowers to stand on your desk, you and Taehyung are curled up together on your bed. You lean your head on his shoulder, still admiring the flowers.

“What do they each mean?”

“The sunflowers are for loyalty and happiness,” he starts, taking your hand into his gently. “The lavenders are for devotion.” He then intertwines his fingers and yours tightly. “And the little white flowers are for long lasting love.” He carefully tugs your hand up, placing a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

He flips your hand over to reveal the blank canvas on your wrist. Carefully, he traces his name on the empty expanse of your wrist with a soft smile making its way across his lips. “Are you excited?”

“Yes.” You reach out to grab his other hand and lovingly trace the familiar letters etched on his wrist. “I still can’t believe you have my name.”

You line your arm up next to his. “And in a few moments, I’ll finally have yours.”

He nuzzles his nose in your hair before you lean up and place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. He laughs, giddy at the mere thought, before excitedly giving you a proper kiss.

A fleeting feeling of warmth spreads across your wrist, and the two of you finally part, dizzily smiling at each other, before gazing at your new tattoo. Suddenly, it feels like someone has dumped an entire bucket of ice water on you. Your blood runs cold, your heart stops, and the mismatched colors start to blur as the tears begin to cluster.

Rather than matching gold on your wrists, the taunting colors of ebony and crimson glare back at you.Your name, now in red, is branded harshly on Taehyung’s skin.

And there, permanently stamped on your own wrist, are unapologetically bolded letters in black.

Jeon Jungkook.

You blink away the tears, staring at the name in horror. Immediately, you begin scrubbing away at your wrist, shades of red blooming on your skin, as you try to scratch the name off. Taehyung covers your wrist with his hand, grabbing your hands with his other.

“Please stop,” he says softly, “you’re hurting yourself.”

“No! I don’t—I don’t understand!” Your voice cracks before it rises in volume. “This isn’t right! This is a mistake! This is wrong! They gave me the wrong name!”

The sound of rushing footsteps is unheard over your cries, but your parents soon crowd into the room. “W-what’s going on?”

Hysterical, you wave your wrist wildly in their direction before clawing at the black script in despair. “This is the wrong name! This isn’t Tae’s name! Why isn’t it Tae’s name?”

You collapse on your bed, tears pouring freely down your cheeks, as your parents finally see the tattoos of red and black adorning his and your wrists. Taehyung gently gathers you in his arms, and your hands desperately clutch onto the front of his shirt as you bury your face into his chest. Numb, you can barely register the feeling of wetness on the crown of your head as he embraces you tightly and cries with you.

At the age of eighteen, you experience heartbreak for a second time.

At only eighteen years old, you learn that the soulmate system is cruel.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Your birthday is not a celebration, but rather, a farewell.

Saturday is dreary with gray clouds hanging overhead. Stray pieces of newspaper are scattered by the wind, flapping around aimlessly. Save for a few other people far from earshot, you and Taehyung are alone on the train platform in the early morning.

“Sunshine...” he begins before swallowing hard. “_______, I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

You freeze, staring at the train tracks in front of you. They run parallel, stretching on for miles, never touching.

“_______?”

“You don’t mean that,” you say at last, voice barely above a whisper.

“We don’t belong together,” he says quietly. He reaches out for your hand before stopping himself, retracting his hand slowly. “You don’t belong with me.”

You grab his hand and hold on tightly. “Stop saying that. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“_______... I’m not your soulmate.” His voice breaks, and he finally turns to you, cupping your chin gently with his hand. His gaze is soft, but resolute. “Your soulmate isn’t me. I can’t make you as happy as your soulmate can. You were made for me, but I wasn’t made for you.”

“Tae...”

He leans down, and his lips touch yours tenderly, before he pulls away. His eyes still glimmer like all the stars. Stars always shine the brightest before they extinguish. He smiles wistfully, caressing your cheek softly, before hugging you tightly. “Thank you for making me so happy. Even if it’s not with me, I want you to find happiness, too. I want you to have the love you deserve.

Thank you for loving me. You’re my first and last.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Taehyung doesn’t return any of your calls. You simply receive radio silence from him from there on out. And you tried reaching him on nearly every single mode of social media possible. His parents offered no help either, merely polite answers and avoidance of mentioning their son. Jin is sympathetic, but you hit a wall with him as well.

Your friends had said nothing since two Sundays ago during your birthday party. They had made no mention of your new ink after they noticed it covered by several large bracelets and hair ties. The only acknowledgment from them were well wishes of happy birthday and thoughtfully chosen presents. They comfort you, exchanging words of condolence and sharing tubs of your favorite ice cream, when you finally told them about the red tattoo, but left out the name of your soulmate.

At school, you remain quiet, barely participating in conversations. Rosé looks at you worriedly as you push back and forth the vegetables on your lunch tray absentmindedly.

“_______, are you feeling okay?” She gently pries, and you smile tiredly at her.

“I’m fine, really, I—” you cut yourself off, spotting a familiar figure disappearing out the cafeteria door. “Hold on.”

You jump out of your seat, leaving your friends bewildered, as you rush towards the same entrance, pushing your way out into the hallway.

“Jungkook!”

Your voice rings out, bouncing against the walls, and the boy stops temporarily before speeding up. You run down the hallway now, hand reaching out until your fingers wrap around his arm. He finally turns to look at you for the first time in months, and when his eyes meet yours, the tingling feeling of warmth begins to make its way across your wrist.

You rapidly shove up the sleeve of your sweater, now staring at the glowing, glittering letters of gold stretched across your skin. You only faintly register the gasp from Jungkook when he recognizes his own name before he exposes his own wrist, your name emblazoned in the identical color.

“You... you’re my soulmate,” he whispers, gazing at the shimmering names, almost entrances. He reaches out to touch his name, but you jerk your arm away, covering it up with your sweater once more.

“This isn’t—this isn’t right,” you start to back away and turn away. “It’s supposed to be red.”

“Red? You wanted a red tattoo?” Jungkook grabs your hand and stares at you incredulously.

“God, Jungkook, you ruined everything!” You yank away your hand and start to storm off down the hallway, but Jungkook refuses to let you get the last word, calling out from behind you.

“Are you kidding me? I ruined everything? I didn’t choose to be your soulmate!”

You whirl around on your heel, fiercely looking him in the eye. “No, Jungkook. Are you kidding me? Why didn’t you tell me you had my name instead of avoiding me like the plague? What the hell is wrong with you? You refused to talk to me at all and now you just expect me to accept this?”

“Because I thought my tattoo would be red!” he explodes, “Because I’ve been waiting for my soulmate my whole life, and then I saw it was you. I thought you and Tae are soulmates, so mine would be red. Why would you want a red tattoo?”

“Because this is a mistake!” you burst out. “It’s supposed to be Tae! I thought if this turned red, that meant the whole thing would be a mistake, that it’d be okay that Tae’s tattoo is red because both of ours would be the same color!”

“The universe doesn’t make mistakes!”

 “Then what is this?” You bare your wrist at him, the sparkling letters making him wince. “We’re not even in love!”

“A lot of soulmates didn’t know each other and weren’t in love when they got their tattoos!”

“Well, we’ve known each other forever! We didn’t fall in love!”

He falls silent, and the two of you just stand there. And for the first time in a long time, you really take a look at him. He looks scared and small, shoulders hunched. You know this isn’t fair for either one of you. You know how long he’s waited for his soulmate. You can’t imagine what he went through alone when he received his tattoo.

Finally, you turn and leave.

He doesn’t stop you.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You avoid Jungkook after that. It becomes an unspoken rule between the two of you to stay clear of one another. Your last message to Taehyung about your changed tattoo two months ago was left unanswered. As much as it pains you to sound like any other angst filled teenager, your friends and parents don’t understand you. They don’t understand why you refuse to acknowledge your soulmate. High school relationships aren’t meant to last, your mother says, your soulmate is the one made for you. You wonder if she would be relaying the same sentiments about short-lived juvenile relationships if your tattoo spelled out Taehyung’s name.

“How is he?” you ask, lingering near the CD racks and trailing your fingers across the spines of them. Yoongi remains a few steps ahead of you, sorting through the box of discs in his hand to place the correct one on the shelves. After graduating college, he had taken on a second job at the music store downtown in exchange for working in the backroom music studio at night for free.

“He’s… better. His latest art piece is nominated for an art show.”

“Oh, that’s amazing!” You reach over to pick up a few CDs from the box and arrange them on the shelves. “I’m really happy for him—”

“_______.”

“—and if he gets into the art show, maybe I can go and see it!”

“_______.” You stop short as Yoongi calls out to you a second time. “What?”

“This isn’t good for you.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” You reach out to grab another CD to shelf, but Yoongi drops the carton on the floor. “Listen to me, _______. You need to move on. This isn’t what Taehyung would want.”

You drop your hands to your side, shoulders sagging. “How would you know that?”

“Because I have a red tattoo, too.”

His quiet confession shakes you to the core. While you had caught a glimpse of it five years ago, he had never mentioned anything about his tattoo to anyone after that day. Everybody else had merely assumed he will meet his soulmate sometime in the future, and you sometimes wonder if what you remembered was a figment of your imagination. But he lays out the bare truth right here and there.

“You—I—what?”

“We were school friends. She never knew I had her name though. She had her tattoo first. I saw her fall in love with her soulmate. I saw her tattoo turn gold when he came to school with her name the day after his birthday. I saw when her name turned gold for him. I wondered why mine turned red instead.” He stops suddenly before glancing over at you. “Do you know what’s the most fucked up part about a red tattoo? You get to feel your soulmate’s most intense emotions.”

Your mouth feels dry, and you want to reach out towards him but for some reason, you can’t.

“I felt it when she cried over her father’s death. I felt it when she found out she got accepted into med school.” He swallows hard. “I felt it when he proposed to her, and she said yes.”

“Yoongi…”

“But you know what?” he continues, eyes turning fierce as he finally fixates on you. “Feeling her become happy… that was my peace. My soulmate was the happiest she’s ever been when she’s with him.”

You are silent, and Yoongi reaches down to pick up the discarded box. He resumes stacking various CDs and records on the walls and shelves.

“That’s how I know.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You had sat down on the bleachers, gazing out across the football field in front of you. Practice had still gone on for another fifteen minutes, but you knew Jungkook spotted you the moment you stepped near the grass. When he walks off the field, you are waiting for him by the entrance.

“What is it?” He is guarded, and you don’t blame him.

“I just…” You start, but trail off, and his eyes soften. He notices the defeated look in your eyes, but your eyes don’t waver when you stare into his, asking gently, “Do you really think we can really fall in love?”

He falters, his hand coming up to wrap around his wrist and gently touching the golden script. He looks down and traces the letters of your name.

“Of course. We’re soulmates.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

When you announce to your parents that you and Jungkook have begun dating, you can’t help but loathe the way your mother’s eyes light up and how easily your father accepts him into the family. Your friends chatter on excitedly about prom and how the two of you will easily win King and Queen. Jungkook is the star quarterback after all, and your high school is a living cliché, so you don’t doubt that he would get the crown. Everyone accepts you and him together as a pair.

All because of a tattoo.

As you take down the pictures of you and Taehyung and the small mementos in your room—all the things that documented your relationship and remind you of him—you can’t bring yourself to throw them away. So you tuck them into a shoebox and push it into the corner of the tallest shelf in your closet.

However, the vase of dried sunflowers, lavenders, and baby’s breath remains on your desk.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

How do you dress when you’re going out on a date with your best friend? Well, former best friend, but still. Rummaging through your dresser drawers and closet, you try on various outfits before finally opting for a pair of jean shorts and your favorite shirt for a bit of luck. You put on a pair of comfortable shoes before slipping out the door and sitting on the front porch steps, waiting for Jungkook. Your friends have all sent their well wishes and good luck’s to you in the group chat, and you reply to them in the meantime.

“Hey, _______.” Jungkook awkwardly stands in front of you, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. “I was thinking we could go to the arcade?”

“Alright.” You give him a half smile as you stand up, and the two of you begin the walk alongside each other to your destination. You walk in silence, but you feel comfortable, a slight hazy feeling coming into play. There’s something that draws you to him that wasn’t there before, and it slightly unnerves you with how at ease you are just within mere minutes of your date.

Jungkook must have felt the same way because a few seconds later, his hand gently brushes against yours once or twice, before he bravely slips his hand into yours. And they fit perfectly together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

As if your hand was meant to be held by his.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

A month into your newfound relationship, you find new flowers on your desk.

When you finally reach home after finishing your afterschool club activities, you find Jungkook sitting on your bed, waiting for you like old times. He smiles proudly, greeting you happily, and you are slightly confused until you notice the fresh flowers. Blooming daffodils, daisies, peonies, and roses burst forth in bright colors.

“I thought it’d be a nice surprise if I replaced your flowers… they were all dried and… _______, are you okay? Why are you crying?”

To your surprise, you belatedly realize there are tears slipping down your cheeks, and before you can wipe them away, he stands in front of you, tending brushing them away. The way his fingers gently graze on the apples of your cheeks leave a trail of sparks on your skin, and you can’t bring yourself to push him away. His face is inches from you, and you know he finally registers this fact when his eyes flicker down to your lips, and he swallows nervously. Hesitantly, he slowly leans in, and his lips meld against yours perfectly.

It’s your first kiss with him, and it’s perfect.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE NINETEEN.

Jungkook makes it onto the football team at the university you both decide to attend, and you go to every single home game, sitting in the bleachers alongside your friends and wearing his jersey number. When his team scores the winning touchdown and the game is over, he runs over to you, clambering up the bleachers to meet you, adrenaline still rushing through his veins, as he pulls you in for a kiss with a breathless “I love you” slipped in between.

“My lucky charm,” he affectionately calls you as the two of you celebrate together with the team and their significant others at a nearby diner.

“Kook, it’s all you,” you say, giggling before stealing several fries from his plate. Grabbing an onion ring from your dish in retaliation, he shakes his head. “Nah, it’s because you’re there cheering me on.”

“And you’re here.” He taps his wrist where your name still glimmers like the very first day. “You’re with me on the field, too. My lucky charm.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE TWENTY.

It’s winter break, and with your parents gone for the weekend, Jungkook sleeps soundly next to you. You stare at your phone, watching as the clock ticks down each second from 11:59 p.m. until it hits midnight. Your thumb hovers over ‘send’ button as the simple text message of three words stares back at you.

Happy Birthday, Taehyung.

Jungkook rolls over, wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling you closer to him. He nuzzles his face in your hair before drowsily murmuring, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Kook. Go to sleep,” you whisper, and he curls himself around you even more, nodding off. You take one last look at the message before deleting it and setting your phone on the nightstand next to you.

That night, your dreams are visited by a boy with stars in his eyes and sunflowers tucked in his hair.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE TWENTY-ONE.

The two of you sit across from each other in the café, partaking in another one of your join study sessions. You help him with math, and he helps you with science. It’s a great trade off, save for the fact that Jungkook tries his utmost best to distract you from your work at all times.

“Hey, _______. Give me your hand.”

“Why, so you can give me your hand to hold?” You say absentmindedly as you flip to another page of the chemistry textbook in front of you. Jungkook chuckles, reaching out and taking your hand himself. “No, but if you wanted me to hold your hand, you could’ve just asked.”

“No, I—” You stop yourself as nostalgia from a past familiar memory hits you like a tidal wave. A similar conversation with a different boy replays itself in your mind, and that familiar pang in your heart resurfaces. “Never mind, what is it?”

Jungkook gazes at you with an unreadable expression before brightening up and sliding on a folded paper ring onto your right ring finger. He raises his own hand and wriggles his fingers around to show you a matching one. “Look, I made us couple items. Custom, one of a kind soulmate items!”

You hide a smile. “Is that what you’ve been doing instead of studying?”

“I’m trying to be cute here, and you ruined it,” he whines, frowning, and you laugh before reaching out and squeezing his hand, familiar tingles spreading down from your fingertips, your heart speeding up just a fraction. You feel so, so happy—the happiest you have ever been.

“Thank you, Kook.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE TWENTY-TWO.

The opened envelope produces a creamy white invitation that announces the matrimonial union between Jin and his girlfriend. You stare at it, the RSVP portion laying out in front of you, pen held loosely in your hand. Your mother insisted that you go, while slipping in a thinly veiled hint about how you can learn from it when the time comes for you to plan a perhaps near future wedding.

“Jin’s getting married? We’re going, right?” Jungkook comes up behind you, and you nearly jump out of your skin, the pen clattering onto the counter. Chuckling, he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. You curse the butterflies that still erupt in your stomach every time.

“Y-yeah, I guess we are.” You watch as Jungkook picks up the pen and checks all the boxes before tucking it back into the return envelope. “C’mon, let’s go send this out. Lisa’s been giving me the stink eye ever since I came into your apartment.”

“She’s still mad at you for eating that last slice of cake she was saving last week.”

“I said I was sorry!”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You knew he would be there, but nothing could have prepared you for seeing him again for the first time in so long.

Taehyung stands as best man for his brother, looking as beautiful as ever. It’s been four years, yet he looks the same as he used to, perhaps a little softer around the edges. Your eyes are focused on him throughout the entire ceremony, absorbing in his presence. His hands are clasped in front of him, and you wonder if they are still as soft and warm as they were on the very first day he held your hand. His lips are pulled into a genuine smile, one that you haven’t seen in ages and very dearly miss, as he laughs at the amusing parts of his brother’s written vows. His eyes gleam brighter than ever, like all the stars are captured within them, and your heart aches as you wish, just once, he would glance over in your direction.

When the ceremony is over, Jungkook takes your hand as you walk over to the reception. The two of you drop off your gift before making your way over to the artfully decorated tables, searching for your name cards. As you weave around the tables scanning the place cards, you bump into someone, teetering slightly in your heels, and they quickly grab your arm, steadying you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You laugh a little sheepishly before looking up. Familiar eyes—ones teeming with all the stars and unspoken words—gaze back at you, and suddenly, you forget how to breathe as the air is knocked out of your lungs. Suddenly, you feel like you are fourteen again, a silly teenage schoolgirl stuck on a crush. You are suddenly hyperaware of how his hand gently grasps your elbow still, and how much you miss his warmth when he lets you go.

“It’s okay, sunshine.” His quiet baritone voice is heard before he gives you a soft smile and walks off.

Jungkook squeezes your hand, and startled, you look over at him, still dazed. He purses his lips slightly before saying, “I think our table is over there.”

“Okay.” You follow after him, and the rest of the night passes by quietly.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

We need to talk.

After complete silence from his end for the past few days, the simple text message from your boyfriend filled you with dread, and when you walked through the door of his apartment, the tension was already palpable. You sit down at the kitchen table with an untouched mug of green tea with a teaspoon of honey prepared beforehand for you. He is leaning against the counter, a similar mug placed next to him.

“You’re still in love with him.”

His voice cracks the silence, and you wince as the accusation hangs in the air.

“We barely spoke to each other.”

“God, _______, you didn’t even need to! Literally everyone in the room could tell.” He paces around back and forth. “It was obvious that he still loves you. It was obvious that you still love him!”

You stay silent, angry and sad tears beginning to mingle, and you harshly blink them away. He looks at you, frustrated, as his hand wraps around the mug in front of him tightly. “It took us months, years to get our relationship to where it is now, and he undoes it all in seconds! I don’t understand it! I don’t even know if you love me.”

His voice wavers near the end, and your heart wrenches. You start to speak up, but he shakes his head, forlorn, as he asks quietly, “If the situation was reverse… if I was the one with the red tattoo, would you fight for me, too?”

Your heart clenches in your chest, and you turn away, unable to meet his gaze.

“I see.”

“Kook,” you plead with him softly, “It’s not like that…”

“Then enlighten me please. What’s it really like?”

“You just—you want me to stay with you because of the tattoo, and then, you expect me to stay with you if you didn’t have the tattoo? I don’t understand what you want!” You stand up from the table, the chair making the most horrific screech across the tiled surface.

“I want you to choose me!” Jungkook bursts out, roughly wiping away a stray angry tear. “We both had your name on our wrists, mine was the gold one, yet you still chose him! You always chose him. Even now, you choose him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” he laughs bitterly, “I’m your soulmate after all. Even if you don’t want me to be, I am. I know you better than anyone else.”

Silence falls like a heavy weight, and neither of you makes a move. The two of you sit there on opposite ends of the table like opposing sides of a chessboard, until you finally crack.

“Jungkook, do you even love me?”

“Of course I love you!” Jungkook raises his voice, frustratingly carding his hand through his hair before his voice softens, “I love you.”

“But why?” you whisper, “Why would you love me?”

“Why?” he repeats incredulously. “Because you’re my soulmate.”

“But, Kook, that’s the thing,” you say softly as you finally look him in the eye. “You love me because I’m your soulmate.

But would you have fallen in love with me if I wasn’t?”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Jungkook finds himself wandering the streets for several hours afterwards, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as he replays your words over and over in his mind. What did you mean by that? He loves you for you because well, you are his soulmate. The universe chose you for him and him for you. The word ‘soulmate’ and you are synonymous. Aren’t they?

When Jungkook looks around, he realizes that his feet had taken him to the front of a very familiar bar. Stepping inside, he is welcomed by Namjoon with a wave and shuffles over to take a seat in front of the dimpled bartender.

“How have you been?” his friend greets him, already pouring out the usual drink order.

“Confused,” he answers honestly. “Joon, what do you think about soulmates?”

Namjoon sets the drink down in front of him. “It’s an interesting system. We’re taught that there is someone out there who’s perfect for you, yet it’s never specified in what way. We all assume it is a romantic bond, but who’s to say it’s not platonic?”

“So you’re saying best friends can be soulmates?”

“Soulmates are about a connection between two people,” he explains, “A soulmate is someone who understands you on the deepest level. Your minds have this unexplainable connection strengthened by mutual respect, understanding, and love. It’s someone who can understand your mind and heart and accepts you for who you are. Whether that is platonic or romantic, I believe it can vary.”

“So then _______ and I were made for each other,” mumbles Jungkook, tracing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. “The universe doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Tell me, Jungkook. What do you think of those with red tattoos?”

“Well, they’re mista—” he cuts himself short, jaw going slack.

“But the universe doesn’t make mistakes,” Namjoon hums as he wipes down the counter.

“They’re meant to be alone then.”

“Then why are they given a tattoo to begin with?”

He falls silent, staring at the amber liquid in front of him. Is it possible to have multiple soulmates? Only one name shows up on your wrist though. Not two. Just one. His.

“But it’s my name on her wrist.”

“Do you love her, Jungkook?”

“Of course I do,” he says, his hands curling into the small fists, “She’s my soulmate.”

“Does she love you?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because…” He unfurls his hands, small crescent shaped indents now littering his palms. You do love him. But not because of some soulmate tattoo. And he knows that—

“… Because she stayed. Because she loves me enough to stay.”

For all these years, he finally realizes, you did choose him. You chose to stay with him. You chose to be with him.

“But I know she loves him more,” he murmurs. “And I know he loves her, too. He’s been in love with her from the beginning. And that’s what I don’t understand. He had her, and he let her go.”

“Taehyung loves her enough to let her go,” Namjoon muses, tapping his fingers on the scratched wooden surface. He looks at Jungkook, gazing at him with such intensity that the boy, for some reason, cannot look away.

“Do you?”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

When you return to your apartment after your last class the next day, Lisa greets you before gesturing towards the envelope on the counter.

“He left that for you.”

She disappears into her room soon after, and you gingerly pick it up. Opening the envelope, you tip the contents out and find a folded note resting in the palm of your hand. Unfolding the lined paper, you instantly recognize the messy scrawls of handwriting.

Thank you for loving me.

Taped to the bottom is a familiar, well-worn paper ring.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Tae!”

You bang on his door loudly. Several minutes pass, but you remain persistent, knocking on the door in rapid succession, until the sound of rushing feet is heard, and the door swings open. Taehyung stands before you, a look of shock quickly morphing into one of concern and confusion.

“What are you doing here? How do you know I’m here?”

“Yoongi finally told me.”

“Sunshine… you shouldn’t be here.” He looks tired, sad, as he retreats back into his apartment, beginning to close the door. “You should go back home. To Jungkook.”

“We broke up.”

His eyes widen. “What? Why?”

“Because I love you.”

The words tumble out of your mouth as you listen to your heart for the first time, rather than your mind, soulmate system be damned. Your heart pounds faster than ever in your chest, blood rushing through your veins, as you stare at the man in front of you.

Taehyung inhales sharply. “Sunshine, you belong with your soulmate, not me.”

“No. No, I don’t belong with someone because of some ink on my wrist. I belong with someone because I choose to be with them. Because I choose to want them. Because I choose to love them.”

You take a step forward, and Taehyung watches you with soft eyes as you gently touch his face, your bodies now millimeters away from each other. There are no sparks, no electricity igniting beneath your fingertips, but you feel a comforting warmth that curls around your heart and makes it bloom.

“I love you, Tae,” you repeat softly, “I’ve always loved you. You’re my first and last.”

So you close the distance and press your lips against his.

You choose the boy with the starry eyes.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

EPILOGUE.

Rays of morning sunlight peek through the gossamer curtains hanging on the windows, creating light patterns upon the duvet. With his arm draped around your waist and his other one resting beneath your head, you are held gently in your husband’s embrace. Still chasing the last remnants of sleep, you drowsily rub your eyes. Tilting your head upwards, the corners of your lips tip upwards into a soft smile at the sight that meets your eyes.

The light hits his face in all the right angles, shining the softest of glows that illuminates his sun kissed skin. It filters through his long, dark eyelashes, casting shadows onto his cheeks. Small puffs of breath escape between his lips with a quiet snore. His hair falls close to his eyes, and you carefully brush the strands away.

“Mama! Daddy!”

A bundle of energy launches herself at the two of you with a squeal. An audible oomph is heard from next to you as you let out a laugh, pulling into your arms the little girl whose eyes mirror her father’s and smile identical to the one on your face.

“Hello, my little munchkin.” She greets you back happily, rubbing her nose against yours in an Eskimo kiss before sloppily placing a kiss on your cheek. You return the gesture, a kiss gently pressed on both of her rosy cheeks, as she giggles before rolling over to her father.

He groans when one of her flying elbows land in his stomach, but he quickly scoops her up, pulling her into his chest. She wriggles out of his embrace in seconds, but her interest is immediately caught onto a tattoo inked upon her father's wrist that's identical to the one on your own skin, and you already know the next words on the tip of her tongue. It is her favorite question to ask every morning after all.

"What do the flowers mean?" she asks, admiring the art etched permanently upon forgotten, faded letters of red and gold. She clutches her father's hand in one hand and your hand in her other, comparing the two tattoos as seriously as any four-year-old can, and you answer her question softly, smiling over at him, as he gazes at you with the same star struck look in his eyes all those years ago.

"They're called lavenders. They stand for devotion."

But they also stand for so much more. And your daughter will learn this when she’s a little older, whether she chooses to follow the tattoo on her wrist or the one on her heart and whether they are one and the same for her.

“The lavenders stand for how much your daddy and I love each other.”

They stand for shared childhood memories that you hold close to your heart. They stand for late night arguments and loud disagreements that end with good night apologies. They stand for hands that do not perfectly fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but still hold onto each other as tightly as possible. They stand for lips that were not made for each other, but still find each other every morning and every night and all the times in between. They stand for the ups and downs you two had to work for to get to where you are now. They stand for your love for each other. Your first and last.

The journey to finding your love was not easy. It was not like the love story of soulmates. It was not simply a change of color to gold. You had to work for your love by learning to understand each other and enduring hardships together. Your love was not built upon the universe's red strings of fate, but instead, upon trust, loyalty, care, and ultimately, devotion. While your love may not be as intense and solid as a soulmate bond, it runs deeper, stronger, more genuine.

Love is not simply a feeling. Love is a choice. It is choosing to work through the difficulties and hardships instead of taking the easier path and walking away. It is choosing to stay. It is choosing each other yesterday, today, tomorrow, and for the rest of your lives.

It may not be as serendipitous and magnificent as walking on cloud nine hand in hand with the one who was named on your wrist, but you don’t care one bit. It doesn’t matter to you. It doesn’t matter at all because he carved out a piece of heaven just for you.

Because Kim Taehyung takes you to cloud ten.

[notveryglittery]

all the way home i’ll be warm

summary: 'tis the season for spending time with your loved ones! for some mischievous college kids and their "unfortunate" dads, that happens in more ways than one. ships: romantic roceit, romantic moxiety. siblings logicality, brotherly thvi. familial morolo, familial remceit.  wc: 6.8k / warnings: sympathetic deceit, food mentions, flying mention, two characters locked in a room together. author’s note: participated in @sanderssantas as a pinch hitter and got to write some lovely wishes for @max-is-tired!! it was a lot of fun and not gonna lie, i kinda want to write a moxiety prequel to it now LMAO. anyway, happy belated holidays!!

read on ao3 | @fandersfic-roceit @fandersfic-moxiety​

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  — 

“Did your disaster of a dad sweep the librarian off his feet yet?”

Patton sighed and rested his cheek on the palm of his hand. It made his face sort of squished and extra cute. Virgil wished they were having this conversation directly so that he could be the one squishing Patton’s face with his hands. 

“Nope! Vee, I swear, they’re worse than we were.” 

“That’s really saying something,” Virgil said. 

“Do you want to hear something impressive?” 

“Anything you say is impressive.”

Patton giggled. “Oh hush, that doesn’t even make sense.”

Virgil shrugged helplessly. “Nothing in this world does, babe, but you sure help make it easier to deal with.” 

Patton was turning properly red now and Virgil made a mental note to thank Picani again for the suggestions when he’d expressed wanting to buy a new phone. The camera quality on this one made video calling with Patton even better. 

“I said hush!” Patton squeaked. “We’re moving on!” 

Virgil just smiled back innocently. “Well, what impressive thing do you have to share?”

“Logan hasn’t gone a single day without complaining.” 

That was, actually, pretty impressive. 

“Logan? Complaining?”

Patton nodded.

“Never has anything to say about you always mentioning that you’re fifteen minutes older-Logan? Has aced literally every final he’s ever taken without a single whine-Logan? Can sit in traffic for hours and not protest once-Logan?” 

Patton nodded, fervently. “I know!”

“Explain,” Virgil demanded, feeling very much like he’d just been deposited into an alternate universe.

“Well, you know how he had a secret sweetheart for, like, ever and we only found out on accident, right?”

“Right.”

“He says Dad’s being ridiculous for pining for so long! Apparently, in the time it took for Logan and his lover to get their feelings sorted out, Dad had only just got Dev’s phone number.” 

“You’re having fun with alliteration,” Virgil mused, before continuing. “That…” He paused to process. “Pat, they’re not just worse than us, they’re like… the worst in existence.” 

“I don’t know how they do it,” Patton moaned, tilting his head back. 

“At this rate, I’m going to visit over break just so that I can lock them in a closet together.”

“And that’s the only reason for you to visit, hmm?” 

“Of course,” Virgil answered, solemnly, “not like I got my act together and have a handsome boyfriend that I’d like to spend 7 Minutes in Heaven with, or anything.” 

“Virgil!” Patton exclaimed, nearly screeching. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m hanging up on you now,” Patton threatened. 

“You’re impossible to fluster in person. When else am I supposed to snipe you?” 

“I’m confiscating the love gun!” 

“It’s cute how you think that’ll stop me,” Virgil said, delighting in the way Patton was still pouting.

“Good night!” 

And with that, the call ended. 

Virgil laughed, switching to their text thread without missing a beat. 

stormcloud: love you lots. hope your dreams are as happy as you make me. sunshine: i love u too, u bully, good night!!!!!!!! >:(  sunshine: … sunshine: 💜💙💜💙

—  

“Operation Matchmaker is a go!”

“I am making the executive decision to reject that name immediately.” 

“Vetoed.” 

“On what grounds?”

“I was born first.” 

“By fifteen minutes, that hardly counts.” 

“It does, too! It counts fifteen whole times.”

“You realize how little sense that makes, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m older!”

“That is not how this works—” 

“What are we debating this time, kids?” Roman interrupted, arriving before a full blown argument could start.

“Dad!” The twins chorused, one far more enthusiastic than the other. Then again, one of them had been complaining for the last two weeks of his father’s oblivious pining. 

“Patton and I were wondering if you wouldn’t mind driving us today, since you haven’t got anything planned?” 

“And just how do you know I’m not busy? I could have many dragons to slay!”

“And princes to swoon over,” Patton mumbled. 

Logan elbowed his sibling in the side. “It would be quite efficient to take just the one car out instead of both. However, we all know how much I dislike driving in the snow, and I don’t trust Patton behind the wheel when I know Virgil could call at any moment.”

“Hey!” 

“Good point.”

“Hey!”

“And if we leave now, we’ll beat rush hour traffic and be home in time before nightfall.”

“Alright, fine, as long as we’re all good with stopping to get takeout for dinner.”

“That is agreeable.”

“Perfect!” 

The trio separated to get their things together. Roman had still been in his pajamas when he happened upon Logan and Patton at the dining table. 

They had seemed suspiciously like they were scheming but given it was nearing Christmas, it was safe to assume they were just figuring out gifts. He’d taken care of presents for everyone last month, including Patton’s aforementioned boyfriend. That one had been fun to plan and if everything else went up in flames (as the holidays were sometimes wont to do), he knew that this, at least, would be well worth the work. 

Figuring the pair only had a few quick errands to run and that all they’d really expect of him was to keep the car running and warm, Roman went with dressing down for the day. He bundled up in crown patterned sweatpants, a maroon turtleneck, and a black beanie. His hair would not see the light of this day, thank you very much. 

“You look comfy!” Patton chirped as they regrouped at the entryway. Their pink pronoun necklace matched the earmuffs and gloves they were wearing; in fact, Patton seemed to have decided on more of a pastel aesthetic than normal today, what with the rest of their outfit in complementary soft shades. 

Logan, on the other hand, had gone with his usual and was covered head to toe in navy and black. “Indeed. Do you intend to join us at all or will you be taking self portraits in the car?” 

“Ha ha,” Roman deadpanned, shooing his kids outside and locking the door as they left the house.

It wasn’t until they were settled and on the road that Roman thought to actually ask what the plans were.

“What’s on the agenda, then? Gifts? Missing ingredients for cookies? Dropping anything off at Goodwill?” He hadn’t missed the fact that they both had bags, and that they seemed rather full. 

“All of the above, actually,” Patton piped up from the backseat. “I wanna donate some of my old plushies and Lo’s got some books he doesn’t need anymore.” 

“Patton is in need of vanilla extract and food coloring. I wonder how we could possibly be out.” 

“If I don’t make red velvet French toast every morning during holiday break, then what's the point of you being home from college?” Roman asked. 

“Quality time spent together, a reprieve from coursework—” 

“There is no point!” Patton interrupted. “It’s the best part about being back!” 

“Patton, there is no ‘being back’ for you seeing as you do not even live in the dorms. Theoretically, you could have red velvet French toast every morning, regardless of the time of year.” 

An offended gasp from his father made sense but to hear it from Patton as well surprised him. 

“Blasphemy!” Patton cried. 

“The disrespect!” Roman exclaimed. 

“That breakfast is tradition, Lo! We’d never have it without you,” Patton promised, clasping Logan’s shoulder and squeezing. 

“Thank you,” he responded, voice dripping with sarcasm, “that truly eases my concerns. I was so worried.” 

With the streets empty as they were, getting to and from locations took no time at all. Sure enough, Roman waited in the car while Patton and Logan stopped in at the grocery store. 

This hadn’t been part of their plan but it was better this way; originally, one would have had to distract him while the other worked. Logan emptied the contents of his backpack, old plastic bags to be recycled, to make room for the pre-ordered bouquet of flowers from the floral department. 

“It’s lovely,” Patton gushed to the seasonal employee. “We’re finally gonna get dad to confess his feelings to Dev. It’s been years in the making, they’re both just so clueless. Not that that’s a bad thing!” They hurried to correct while Logan muttered “It really is,” under his breath.

“I think it’s real sweet what you kids are doin’ for your pa,” Valerie said sincerely. “Roman’s been a blessing since I moved out here. I swear, the number of times he’s sighed wistfully during our Disney movie marathons while thinking about that man… I bet the whole town’s rooting for them.” 

“It’s a miracle the whole town hasn’t lost their collective mind waiting for one of them to make a move.” 

“Logan!” Patton scolded despite looking delighted over their brother being so exasperated that he could hardly be bothered anymore to resist roasting their hopeless father and his crush. 

“Well, keep me up to date, won’t you?” Valerie requested, shoving another handful of ribbon into Logan’s bag. 

“You bet!” 

With the flowers and groceries, not forgotten thanks to Logan, safely secured, they were on to their next stop. Roman denied any teasing of having picked just the right parking spot for prime selfie lighting (not that any of them would have been posted anyway, given his casual look today).  

True to their word, Patton stopped in at the local Goodwill and emptied their backpack of stuffed toys and books. If they stopped by the counter to buy something they’d begged be held for them earlier that week, well… 

“Darlin’, I dunno how y’all are gonna pull this off.” 

“Oh, ye of little faith!” Patton said, running their hands through the purchased scarf to check for any snags or loose threads. “I think I know enough about romance to make it work.” 

The snap of Remy’s bubblegum startled Patton into peering up at him. 

“You’re joking, right?” 

When Patton didn’t answer, Remy reached up and took his sunglasses off. He pointed them right at Patton’s nose, who went slightly cross-eyed trying to focus. “Babes, tell me you’re pullin’ my leg.” 

“I’m not!”

“Oh, bless your heart,” Remy cooed, smiling as he perched the eyewear on top of his head. “Honey, romance could be painted on the broad sign of a barn and you’d still miss it.” 

“Uhm, hello? Virgil?” Patton replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Planned the cutest prom-posal in the history of prom-posals despite his anxiety after you mistook your first three dates as him trying to get to know Logan better through you.” 

“Listen—”

“Yeah? To you yelling at me over the phone about whether or not Virgil kissing you meant he liked you or like-liked you?”

“Remy!” Patton whined.

“I’m just sayin’, sweetie,” Remy relented, “It’s a good thing Logan’s helping.” 

Patton huffed, shoving their receipt into the bag. “You’ll still meet us there? You’re kinda important to this going right.” 

“Only kinda?” Remy rolled his eyes. “I take offense to that. But yeah, I’ll be there.” 

Patton bounced a couple times on their feet, leaning across the counter. Remy couldn’t help grinning as he pressed his lips against their forehead. 

“You’ll grow out of that someday.”

“Never!” Patton crowed, backing up and towards the exit. “See you later!”

Patton returned to the car and startled Roman by opening the driver side door. 

“I’m afraid we might’ve been a bit dishonest with you,” Logan said, only barely managing to cover smug with sheepish.

“Out, daddio! I’m driving us to the last stop and you get to be blindfolded for it!”  Patton exclaimed, bright and mischievous.

“The betrayal,” Roman cried, unbuckling his seat belt. “And so soon before Christmas, too. Whatever are you surprising me with?” 

After some poking and prodding at Patton’s ticklish spots and Patton yanking Roman’s beanie down further over his eyes, they were off. Roman didn’t stop griping the entire way. Logan kept the banter going, texting Remy all the while to make sure everything was going according to plan. 

 —

“I’m here, you’re welcome,” Remy called into the break room very obviously marked Employees Only.

“I’ll only be thankful if you brought lunch,” the pile of blankets on the couch replied, muffled.

“Hot soup, hot cocoa, hot tea.”

“Last one’s literal or figurative?” 

“Guess you won’t know ‘til you shed.” 

“Uuugh.” 

The voice groaned the entire length of shrugging the blankets off until they were all gathered around his waist and over his legs. 

“Ah, there he is! Dearest dad emerges from his cocoon.” 

Devereux glared at his son as Remy crossed the room and set a plastic bag down on the table. 

“All I do for you, just to be relentlessly tormented by your sass.”

“I learned from the best,” Remy said seriously, setting up a series of thermoses and tupperware. 

“Suck-up.” 

The moment Remy was sat beside him, Devereux was ruffling a hand through his hair, tousling the oh-so-meticulously-taken-care-of locks. Remy shouted in outrage, batting his dad’s hand away and scooting to the other end of the couch. 

“All I do for you!”

It took nearly a minute of the two glaring at each other, waiting for one to make the next move. When Devereux’s stomach growled noisily, the stalemate ended. Remy smirked. 

“Truce?” He offered.

“... Truce.” 

They reached for the table at the same time, picking their own containers. Remy grabbed a thermos, no doubt filled with hot coffee. Devereux chose a microwavable bowl and a spoon, cradling it carefully to his chest. Silence followed for awhile longer while Remy texted with one hand and Devereux stared out the window as he ate, scowling slightly when snowflakes started drifting slowly into view. 

“A shame I won’t get home tonight,” he grumbled, glaring into his soup. 

“And why’s that?” Remy asked distractedly.

“The weather. Too cold. If only you’d look up from your phone and—” 

“Okay, boomer.” 

“I hate you.”

“I’m telling mom.” 

“Who’s she? Never heard of her.”

Remy took an extra loud sip from his drink, maintaining direct eye contact with his dad as he did so.

“I’m sending you to boarding school. Far, far away. You’ll live with your grandparents.”

“No, not the Witch and the Critic,” Remy hissed, actually suddenly nervous. 

“They really aren’t that bad,” Devereux said, doing a terrible job of hiding his self-satisfied grin. 

“I had to sneak my caffeine in!” 

“It would’ve canceled out Grandma’s sleeping spells.”

“Stop that!” Remy shrieked at the same moment his phone started ringing. He glanced at the screen and then back up. “You’re lucky I love you even when you’re being this mean to me.” 

Answering the call, Remy set his thermos back on the table and stood up from the couch. “Y’all make it safe?” 

Devereux tuned the conversation out as he put his soup down and worked on getting out of his blanket nest. He cleaned up as Remy chatted, thinking about everything that needed to be done before the day was over. Did the grind ever stop? Not that he’d change anything; Remy was the best thing that happened to him, and while the nightmares had seemed unending at the time, life nowadays was a dream come true in comparison. Sure, there was one unattainable fantasy that would be the cherry on top, but he’d learned not to get his hopes up anymore. 

“Got something to show you,” Remy said and Devereux supposed he could put up with whatever nonsense was to follow since Remy had brought him lunch. 

They headed out into the library, which was relatively empty since school was out for the holidays. That didn’t change the fact that some families simply couldn't handle being cramped in the same house together for long periods of time. Devereux saw all sorts come through for a reprieve from the stress: teenagers with headphones blaring music loud enough that even he could hear it, parents with tense shoulders that appeared worn out no matter the hour, students visiting home that felt out of place after being away, now in need of a break from their discomfort. 

Devereux followed Remy to the private study rooms. These were ideal, usually, for finding some peace and quiet, but he had a feeling some sort of havoc was inevitable. 

“Eyes closed!” Remy exclaimed suddenly, pivoting. He practically resembled the Cheshire cat. 

They had paused in front of room five. The lights were on and the blinds pulled but Devereux could see shadows moving through the slats. 

“Might as well get it over with,” he muttered sarcastically, doing as requested. 

Several things happened in the next moment. 

Remy knocked once on the door and it creaked open. A hand took Devereux’s wrist and yanked him forward, presumably into the room. He collided into something sturdy, though the sound of crinkling plastic sounded less so. Someone erupted into giggles, another muttered “finally,” and then the door slammed shut, and the lock clicked. 

“Oh,” squeaked the voice of whoever it was holding Devereux up from falling backwards. 

(‘Whoever,’ we say, as if Devereux wasn’t achingly familiar with this voice.) 

His eyes flew open and he resisted yelping in alarm. Just so. Roman was stood in front of him, dressed in loungewear, and holding a bouquet of flowers. He was rapidly turning red and he seemed about as confused as Devereux felt. This wouldn’t last long, it never did with the two of them, but it was really just a matter of who would snap out of it first. 

“You look exquisite,” Devereux murmured finally, pulling back from Roman just enough that he could brush a hand along his forearm. “As if you’ve just gotten out of bed and yet… still so effortlessly handsome.” 

“I can only imagine how divine it’d be to lay with you,” Roman responded smoothly, “though there’s not been created a material that could match your warmth.” 

A pause, both realizing what they’d just said. 

“Flowers!” Roman exclaimed suddenly, voice cracking, as he stepped away, and thrust the bundle towards Devereux. 

“Wonderful,” he coughed, holding them gently, and admiring the colors. “Not nearly as lovely as you, of course, though one could search the ends of the Earth and still nothing would compare.”

“Why, Devereux,” Roman purred, “it sounds almost like you’re calling me the prettiest thing on the planet—” 

“Aren’t you?” 

“— when in fact, your beauty outmatches that beyond this world. I’d choose still to gaze into your eyes, reminiscent of sweet honey crystallized, even if offered a glittering sea of endless diamond skies.” 

… Was it getting hot in this room? Roman looked exceedingly pleased with himself and Devereux cursed the competitive, theatrical streak they shared. There would be no moving from this spot if they continued like this… Not that he had a problem with it. Roman truly was a vision: hair tousled (Devereux could only imagine combing his fingers through the tangled locks), cheeks rosy (what he’d give to cause that blush daily), lips curved in satisfaction (oh, how he’d love to kiss that grin right off his face). 

The same moment Devereux glanced upwards, Roman’s gaze flickered down. 

‘Interesting,’ thought Devereux, taking note of the little sprig of green pinned to the ceiling.

Their eyes met again, their smiles melting into something softer, more sincere. 

“Our kids will be the death of us,” Roman muttered with a resigned sigh. 

“Our?” Devereux echoed. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Oh,” Roman managed, breathlessly. 

Keeping the flowers tucked in the elbow of one arm, Devereux reached forward with his free hand and rested his palm flat against Roman’s chest. His heart was racing. They had that in common. 

It was imperceptible, trying to figure out who leaned closer first. The kiss was hesitant to start, years of yearning and pent up passion and fragile feelings. Once the realization hit, that the pining was mutual, that they both wanted this, that they both had been wanting this… 

Well, it was a good thing the window to study room five was shuttered. 

 —

“Vee, it went perfectly!” Patton screamed into the receiver. 

“Uh, yeah, I sure hope it did,” Virgil answered, shifting so that his cellphone stayed firmly between his ear and shoulder, despite Patton’s volume, “given how long they’ve been flirting for.” 

Patton went on, gushing about how he and Logan had successfully tricked their dad into driving them to his own trap; how Remy had been instrumental in bribing Devereux with lunch; how they’d unlocked the room to find the pair slow dancing to music playing on Roman’s phone— “A Thousand Years,” covered by Boyce Avenue, they’d discover later. 

Had Virgil not been so busy with finals, he surely would have heard the story sooner; it had been just under a week since the set-up and, apparently, Roman and Devereux were, somehow, even more sickeningly affectionate than before.

Not that Virgil would have any room to talk in… He glanced at his watch. The nerves over his flight were replaced quickly by the excited anticipation about seeing Patton in three hours. 

“Sweetie?”

“I love you,” Virgil exclaimed suddenly, “just… so much.” 

Patton squealed. “Ahh!! I love you too!!” 

“Good. That’s… I’m glad. Hey, I gotta email a couple of professors. Talk later?” 

“Of course!” 

‘Sooner and closer than you think,’ Virgil mused, smiling at his lock screen photo after the call ended. They’d been going through his closet for spring cleaning and despite the silliness at the time, something about seeing Patton wearing his clothes warmed him all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. 

Virgil let his mind wander as he headed through security and to his gate, wondering just what he’d do during his two weeks back home. Attending college a state over was miserable to start but he’d been grateful there’d been one still relatively close, at least, with his stupidly specific major. He hadn’t been able to visit during Fall break and so it’d been an agonizing five months since he’d last hugged Patton, last held his hand, last— okay Virgil calm down before the touch starvation rears its ugly head. 

Boarding, thankfully, took no time at all, since it was a smaller flight. The weather stayed mercifully clear and landing went off without a hitch. Grateful that he’d only needed to bring a carry-on and his backpack, he headed passed baggage claim and right for the pick-up zone outside. He was checking his phone to see where Thomas was parked when a body slammed into him from the side. Before he could panic about being attacked or robbed, his brother’s voice was rambling a mile a minute. 

“I literally have so much to tell you, I cannot believe how much has happened since you were here last, and look!” Thomas exclaimed, shoving his phone into Virgil’s face. It was a picture of a kitten he didn’t recognize which meant Thomas had adopted another pet. Virgil gave Thomas a deadpan stare as he rattled off all the reasons he’d definitely needed a new cat. 

He threw an arm over Virgil’s shoulders and led the way to the car, still gesturing excitedly as he went on about everything that had happened in Virgil’s absence. Apparently, Halloween had seen a jack-o’-lantern carving contest that was all for naught when Remy and Patton switched pumpkins, Logan’s boyfriend got a little knife happy with the picnic table, and Devereux realized halfway through his design that it was too humiliating for anyone else to see and had promptly threw the entire thing against a tree. 

“Was it Roman’s face?” Virgil asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Joan swears it was but you know them,” Thomas responded. 

“Agent of chaos,” Virgil agreed. 

Thanksgiving was the same as each year: Roman and the twins, Devereux and Remy, Valerie, Leo, Joan, Talyn, Terrence, Kenny, and Thomas all gathered at the local theatre. Even if any of them did have a house big enough to host a large group, the theatre held so much weight in all of their lives, and felt like the best place to express all the things they were grateful for— namely, each other. They made sure to leave the stage as clean as at the start of dinner, taking care to not leave any stains or scuffs by laying the floor with a plastic tarp. It took a bit of extra work, everyone having to transport their food, but the following games of charades and group improv made it all worth it. 

Virgil swore to himself he’d never miss another one again, college be damned. 

“No offense to Roman but the twins really got him good,” Thomas was saying as he merged onto the freeway. “They left Goodwill and just drove in circles until Remy let them know he’d made it to the library.” 

“The fact that neither of those disaster idiots had even a clue as to what their kids were planning is…” Virgil gestured broadly, as if he could pluck the word out of thin air, “ridiculous.” 

“But not unbelievable!” Thomas added. “I think they get blinded by the gay.” 

“Yeah, you’re one to talk,” Virgil began but Thomas was slamming the button on the console to turn on the radio, drowning out whatever his brother was planning on saying next. 

Virgil just settled into his seat, whistling innocently as Thomas’s face went bright red and Straight No Chaser sang through “The 12 Days of Christmas.”

Making it to the Sanders household took longer than Virgil would have liked but it was three days before Christmas and people were out and about for their last minute shopping. It didn’t help that it had snowed heavily the night before and so traffic was slow moving with everyone driving so carefully. 

Still, they arrived before Patton got home, which was the important part. Roman was standing on the porch, waving excitedly as Thomas pulled into the driveway. Virgil glared at the second parked car, recognizing it as Devereux’s, and prayed that Roman didn’t actually have company over. Patton’s surprise was supposed to be known by as few people as possible and the gossip in this town spread fast. 

“Welcome home!” Roman exclaimed, yanking Virgil into a hug as soon as he was within arm’s reach.

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil said back, voice muffled as his face was pressed against Roman’s shoulder. “I’m happy to see you too, don’t get me wrong—” 

“I know,” Roman sighed, dramatically, relenting as he let Virgil go and ushered them in from the cold. “I’m not the one you want to be squished by.” 

“Shut up!” Virgil spluttered, swatting at Roman as if that would wipe the amused look off his face. 

“Oh, there he is!” 

Virgil was accosted the next moment. His face was met this time with a leather jacket and all he did in response was groan. Remy eased back but not before gently tugging once on Virgil’s earlobe and then tapping his nose. 

“We are way too old for that,” Virgil complained, scowling. 

It lasted all of three seconds before he caved, kicking out to tap the tip of his shoe against Remy’s ankle. 

“I still stand by that being a stupid handshake,” Devereux said, appearing out of nowhere just as suddenly as his son had. 

“Well good thing it’s not a handshake then, huh?” Virgil replied. However, it went mostly unheard as Roman stole Devereux’s attention at the same time, as if they literally hadn’t just been in the kitchen together three minutes ago. 

“I hate this already,” Virgil said, taking his phone from his pocket, hoping for a text from Logan to distract him. 

Sure enough, the younger of the twins had sent a photo of Patton at the candy store, eyeing a display case filled with fudge. His pronoun necklace stood out against the white of his sweater and matched the violet beanie pulled over his curls… the same one Virgil had left with him the day he had gone off to college. His heart swelled and if he’d been paying any attention, he’d have noticed the picture Remy snuck of him and the absolutely smitten smile on his face. 

Thomas clapped his hands, snapping Virgil out of it. “Okay, I’m gonna drive home. Roe’s gonna follow and then bring us back over here. Doesn’t make any sense for me to be hanging out but, not gonna lie, I think the twins would be sus if Roe wasn’t here.” 

“Hey!” Roman protested. 

“No offense, darling, but he’s not wrong,” Devereux said, smirking. 

At Roman’s put out expression, Devereux pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

Remy and Virgil were staring at each other as if they were each other’s cameras on The Office. 

“We got the decorations out earlier,” Remy said, pointing towards the living room. 

“Oh thank God, please get me away from them before I get cavities.” 

The two ducked out of the entryway where they’d all been gathered since Thomas and Virgil’s arrival. For the most part, the house had already been dressed up for Christmas. The tree was lit, the stockings were hung, and there was one final box left to be unpacked. It’d been left on the coffee table, waiting to be opened and taken care of. 

“I forget how sappy you look when you’re thinking about Patton.”

Virgil only gave Remy a rather rude hand gesture in return before lifting the lid off the container. Inside were the ornaments he and Patton had made together over the years. It was a tradition they’d had since before they began dating. Some of them were simple, made out of foam or cardboard and drawn on in marker or glitter glue pens; others were glass or ceramics and decorated with paint or sequins. The one thing they all had in common, though, was the indigo ribbon used to hang the baubles. It was the perfect mix of their favorite colors and needed to be special ordered anytime they ran out. Each one had the year written on it wherever there was space for it. Virgil loved them. Patton loved them so much that he refused to hang any of them without Virgil there to do so with him. 

According to Roman, who Virgil really had to thank for making this trip possible, Patton hadn’t even considered touching the box housing the ornaments, since there hadn’t been any guarantee of Virgil making it home for Christmas. Now, though… 

“Seriously, Virge, if I didn’t already doubt your dark and edgy exterior, I would be right about now.”

“Shut up, Rem,” Virgil said, laughing. 

For awhile longer, the pair just caught up on the last half year. Eventually, Devereux and Thomas returned. Apparently, Patton had gotten chilly and sad (not that he’d admit to that last part but there was no hiding it from his twin), so he and Logan were heading home early. That was all fine and good; they mostly had just needed to get Patton out of the house long enough for Virgil to get home and to bring out the special ornaments. 

While Virgil wanted to disagree with Thomas, Remy, and Devereux being there, he couldn’t be mad about having them around to keep him distracted… as long as they were gone before Patton arrived. With Remy sticking around… Virgil doubted it would happen, and he wouldn’t actually be mad if it did, but he was very good at hogging Patton’s attention. Which was hardly fair! 

Remy got all the attention he could ever ask for already; admittedly, he and Patton had grown up together, were best friends throughout school, not to mention still living near each other and getting to see each other every day and okay sure, without Remy’s guidance, he was pretty sure that even now, Patton wouldn’t believe that Virgil loved him because no offense, but he could propose and Patton would still ask “as like… friends?” 

… Alright, so maybe Virgil couldn’t get mad, pretend or not, at Remy being greedy with Patton’s company. That still didn’t make it fair. 

The following thirty minutes were agonizing. Sure, this wasn’t going to be nearly as extra and it wasn’t like Virgil wanted to outdo Roman and Devereux’s confession but also if he could outdo the drama gays (a term coined by the majority of the town, which was really saying something), then he’d have it to hold over Roman’s head for the rest of time, and that sounded pretty cool. In his humble opinion, jumping out and surprising your loved one was way more romantic than being locked in a room with them and hoping everything would go well. Was he sure yet when he’d be jumping out and surprising Patton? Nope! He kind of figured it’d just be something he knew. 

“They’re here!” Thomas exclaimed, nearly dropping his phone at the suddenness of receiving the text. 

“Get out,” Virgil snapped immediately and unthinkingly at Remy and Devereux. 

“Kinda late for that, doll,” Remy said, at least looking a little sorry about it. 

“We’ll hide out in the crafts room,” Devereux offered, already pulling Remy down the hallway. Virgil pointedly ignored the kiss he blew in Roman’s direction. He very pointedly ignored Roman catching it.

“You know they’ll see Roe’s car, right?” Thomas prompted, grinning.

“I’m glad you’ve already thought up a reason for them to be here then,” Virgil responded, shooting finger guns at his brother, who started stammering reminders that he was terrible with excuses. Never mind that he was an actor and should have been able to improvise something. 

“I’ll handle it,” Roman cut in, patting Thomas on the head, which looked a little ridiculous since they were the same height. “Better get hiding, Virgil.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Virgil hurried to the kitchen where he proceeded to shove into the storage closet, which had been cleared out just enough for him to cram his scrawny self into. It smelled like various spices which reminded him of last year and baking cinnamon cookies with Patton. He wondered what they’d make this time. 

The sound was muffled but the front door opened and shut and… God, how was he supposed to wait long enough to properly surprise his boyfriend? Just hearing Patton’s voice made Virgil want to throw himself into his arms, to kiss him senseless, to hold onto him and never let go. He steadied his breathing by focusing instead on the various scents surrounding him, only half listening to whatever Roman was saying to the twins. The noises got louder as they moved towards the kitchen, probably for Logan and Patton to put away the desserts they’d gone shopping for. 

“Thanks for agreeing to help decorate, even if it is just a— a possibility,” Thomas expressed, voice cracking on the last word. Ugh, he really never had learned how to lie.

“The odds of Virgil actually being able to visit are quite low, Patton,” Logan was saying, “I just don’t want your hopes to get up too high.” Wow. Were they even trying to be subtle? 

“I know that!” Patton exclaimed and Virgil was sure he was flapping his hands. “Imagine if he could, though! What if he showed up on Christmas Eve, oh, that would be so magical!” 

This certainly wasn’t as magical as it could have been but Virgil was sure he’d explode if he waited a second longer. So as soon as it started to sound like the trio was heading back out, Virgil nudged the door open with his foot. It creaked and he winced. No doubt having peaked Patton’s curiosity, Virgil threw the door open the rest of the way, and practically launched himself at his boyfriend’s back.

Patton, for good reason, screamed.

The arms locked around his neck now, however, allowed him to see the hands clasped over his chest. Purple nail polish. A black ring on the middle finger of the right hand. An old friendship bracelet hanging loosely from the wrist. 

Patton screamed again. 

“Virgil!” 

If asked, neither could guess how long they stayed embraced for. Patton was laughing breathlessly into Virgil’s shoulder, muttering his name over and over, sprinkling in the occasional “I love you.” Virgil couldn’t have stopped combing his hand through Patton’s hair even if he wanted to. 

Eventually, they would separate, but only just enough so that Patton could pepper kisses all over Virgil’s face. There might have even been a couple minutes of just gazing at each other, soaking up the mere presence and warmth of the one they loved so dearly.  

Of course, they weren’t really alone which meant the reunion had to end at some point. The house was still full of nosy siblings and parents, after all. So, when Remy came crashing into the kitchen, shouting about how bored he was, neither Virgil nor Patton were all that surprised. He stole Patton away, claiming they had to do something really quick and insisting that Virgil catch up with Logan in the meantime.

“Hey, L,” Virgil said, greeting Logan with a signature two finger salute.

“Nice to see you again, Virgil. How was your semester?” 

They chatted about college, and their respective majors, and any hall mates from hell. Without really realizing it, they got into making a large batch of hot chocolate for everyone while they talked. Each mug was picked especially for its recipient, as well as the various ingredients added to each one. Virgil dropped a peppermint stick into his, added extra marshmallows to Patton’s, and a generous spoonful of caramel sauce for Thomas. 

With Roman’s help, all the drinks were brought out safely to the living room. Devereux seemed to have dozed off in the recliner closest to the fireplace. Thomas was nowhere to be found, so Virgil assumed he’d been roped into whatever nonsense Remy and Patton were up to. 

“So,” Virgil started, settling into the corner of the couch. “Did I outdo the drama gays?”

“Absolutely not,” Roman responded vehemently. 

“Virgil!” Patton shouted suddenly, appearing from the hallway, carrying a bag. “Honey, oh my god.”

Patton shot an apologetic look towards Devereux, who was stirring from his nap, as he hurried towards Virgil. He threw himself onto the couch next to his boyfriend and abandoned the package in favor of grabbing onto Virgil’s arm.

“Earlier, you…” He paused, giggling. “You came out of the pantry.” 

Logan groaned. 

Virgil blinked, slightly bewildered, before he started laughing, too. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.” 

“I have something for you,” Patton continued, retrieving the present. He shoved it into Virgil’s lap.

“Christmas isn’t for another three days?” 

“Yes, and?” 

Thomas, who had just arrived with Remy, snorted. “As if you’ve ever had the patience to wait until the actual day to start opening your gifts.” 

While Virgil pestered Patton about not needing to get him anything, really, Remy and Thomas fought over the last armchair, and eventually just ended up tangled together on it. Logan rolled his eyes at their stubbornness. 

After some insisting from Patton, Virgil pulled out all of the colored tissue paper. Patton proceeded to ball it up and throw it at Remy, whose complaining got progressively louder, until his dad finally tossed a pillow at him with a grumbled “please shut up.” Roman settled on the arm of Devereux’s recliner with the most adoring look in his eyes and carded a hand through his hair, whispering sweetly to him.

“Oh,” Virgil gasped, momentarily losing himself in sensory bliss at the material he’d just got his hands on. 

Patton wiggled, patting Virgil’s knees excitedly. It was the very same scarf he’d bought from Remy barely a week ago. It was black which meant it’d go with anything in Virgil’s wardrobe or with whatever outfit Patton decided to wear should he steal borrow it from him. 

“Try it!” Patton said, moving the rest of the wrapping out of the way.

Looping it around his neck provided Virgil the realization that it was of an infinity scarf, which meant all sorts of different ways to wear it. Would he still just bundle it up to hide his face in it as much as possible? Probably. 

“It’s so soft,” Virgil murmured, rubbing the fabric against his cheek.

“Cashmere,” Remy piped up. “You’re welcome.” 

Patton leaned in, waiting with bright, hopeful eyes. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Virgil huffed, failing spectacularly at downplaying his delight. “I love it. Thank you.” 

If a person could embody !!!, then Patton would be doing a very good job of it. He surged forward, catching Virgil by surprise with the intensity of the kiss. One hand cradled his face while the other clutched at the scarf, using it to pull him closer. Smiling against Patton’s lips, Virgil couldn’t help but think that this was very much something he’d like to have for the rest of his life.

Later, they would hang up their personal ornaments. Tomorrow, they would work on making new ones. The holidays would only continue to get more magical as the years passed, he was sure of it, and honestly? He was really looking forward to it.