#well okay i have like what four or five of those but read the text again and think really really hard about it. i'm just kidding i'm goofing

[fionnaskyborn]

there's something to be said about the very specific feeling of frailty you feel when you come face to face with just how little you've experienced. twenty-odd years on planet earth and you haven't really watched all that many movies. an unlived life facing an uncertain future. i do not know where to point the finger of blame because i live untethered from my past, floating in the present with no clear point of reference no clear definition of who i am or what happened to me and how i turned out the way i am (fucking. can you guess why five is my favorite game. insert that one lyric from that one modest mouse song.) but you're still here, and you can still learn, and you can catch up, but it still feels like you're a pitiful little nobody looking for excuses trying to explain why you're still new to the whole being alive thing. i've got a good head on my shoulders, though, for all that's worth, so i think i might be fine.

in other news, i watched scarface tonight. it was certainly a movie. don't really understand how the movie made it big, but it did have some damn good music. i mean, i don't know. i'm still learning about the world i live in. maybe it really is as much of a masterpiece as people make it out to be and i'm too dumb to see the reason why it's considered a classic. maybe i'm right. i can't tell at the moment. it's kind of a beggars can't be choosers situation - if you ain't watched that many movies, then you can't really be a good judge of quality. but, oh, well. it's one more movie watched. it's a win because i watched a movie. and i'll watch more movies.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ don’t blame me ] n. hischier

paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : after a great performance by the captain but a loss for the devils, Nico airs out his frustrations to his girlfriend after the game and she does her best to make him feel better

warning(s) : a v frustrated nico, some yelling, angst w a very happy ending

author’s note : okay look i saw people on twt blaming nico for the ot loss against the caps and was reading what he said after the game and got all sad abt it so i channeled my own feelings into this. it’s short but full of emotion so i hope you enjoy

༺──────────────༻

Over the years, she’s seen how upset Nico can be while he does his postgame interviews. Tonight though, he seems extra distraught about the game despite his own performance.

He played an incredible game. Two goals, an assist, on the ice for four of the Devils’ five goals, and an impressive faceoff percentage. Yet, the boys in red and black lost 6-5 in overtime to the Capitals.

She watches Nico’s interview when it drops while she waits in the car for him after the game. He says they didn’t deserve to win, but she knows that he deserved that win. He barely even talked about his Devils record with those two goals he scored in ten seconds at the beginning of the second period.

Fastest two goals scored by the same player in franchise history, and he skimmed over that question and had a very short answer when he did.

Nico blames himself for the loss, and he shouldn’t because he played some incredible hockey tonight. It’s a shame they couldn’t pull out the win for him. It breaks her heart that he blames himself for that overtime goal. He got caught on a bad change. It’s not his fault.

She wants to text him to let him know that the outcome of the game isn’t his fault, but she lets him have his few moments alone to ponder and think about the game like he does whenever he plays. She knows she’ll get her time with him when he comes out of the Prudential Center.

An hour after the game ends, and a short ten minute nap for her, Nico leaves the building. He walks out with Jack and Timo. He says something to them before he gets in the passenger’s seat of her car.

A frown forms on her face when he doesn’t say anything to her when he gets in. He types something on his phone instead of saying something to her.

“Neeks?” she says to get his attention. He looks up at her when she calls his nickname. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

His voice is low and hoarse like he’s been crying. His usually bright eyes are dark and swollen. She wouldn’t put it past him to shed some tears in frustration that he’s probably feeling. It’s not the first time his team has left him out to dry after an incredible performance. He takes all the blame as their captain too despite none of it being his fault.

It truly does break her heart.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she questions. “Or do you just want to go home?”

“Go home,” Nico replies. “Please. I don’t feel like talking about the game right now.”

She nods silently and puts the car in reverse to pull out of the parking spot. Nico remains quiet as she begins to drive back to their shared apartment.

At one of the red lights she stops at, she glances over to see Nico scrolling on some social media app and frowns. He lets out a soft sigh before he turns off the phone and looks out the window.

This is not how Nico reacts after games. Either he’s very talkative about the game and how well the team did or he is venting to her about how bad they played that night if none of them played well. Quiet Nico after one of his best performances is slightly concerning. Even after the whole team lost.

The drive back to their apartment is fifteen minutes once she actually pulled out of the parking lot. Nico gets out as soon as it’s in park and begins the trek into the building. She follows close behind him so they can get on the elevator together to go up to their floor.

As soon as they’re behind the safety of a closed door, he pulls the beanie off his head and launches it across the living room until it hits the wall.

“Sometimes I wish they never gave me the stupid C,” he suddenly blurts out. “I let them put all the blame on me and I take all the blame. I do that so they can perform better on the ice instead of their mentality ruining their game on the ice and this is what they do? Fuck!”

She quickly walks up to her boyfriend and says, “You do that because you’re a good captain, Nico. You’d probably let them even if you didn’t wear the C on your chest. That is the kind of guy you are.”

He looks down at her and takes a step back. “You don’t understand,” he replies. “I already blame myself for that last goal they scored. I was on a change and the puck went into the net while I was trying to get off the ice to get some fresh skates on. That’s on me because if I had just stayed on the fucking ice, we would’ve won that game. I would’ve found a way to get a turnover and I would’ve put the puck into the net myself because I played really great tonight for them to barely show up.”

“You’re frustrated,” she tells him. “And that’s fine. You’re so valid in your frustration and feelings, but do not think for one second that the loss is on you. You said it. You played great tonight so this is not on you. It sucks that your team couldn’t back you up.”

Nico runs his fingers through his hair. “Every loss is on me,” he replies. “They can blame me all they want, but I need them to back me up. I can’t keep putting up these multi-point nights for them to fuck it up while I’m not on the ice. It fucks with my head sometimes and I’m over it. I’m so over this because it happened so many times.”

She wraps her arms around his torso and rubs his back. “You’re the best captain,” she reminds him. “This is who you would be no matter what is on your chest. One day, all this will pay off. It will end with you raising the Cup then passing it to Jack. They will get you the Cup before the end of your career. All this frustration you’re feeling has an end. One way or another.”

He buries his face into her hair and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “I just need them to back me up,” he mumbles. “I can only take their blame so they can play better for so long before it fucks with me.”

“I know, Neeks,” she replies. “But you’re doing a great job at helping them be their best selves and the best players they can be on the ice. You just have to remind yourself that this will all come to an end at some point.”

Nico nods against her hair. “That overtime goal is on me though,” he tells her.

“Nico Hischier, I’m going to kick your ass if you blame yourself for any part of that loss,” she sharply replies as she pulls away from the hug. “It is not on you. There was nothing you could have done to change that outcome. You put everything into that game and that’s that. You were the best player on the ice tonight in every single statistic. Got it?”

He nods again quietly. “Got it,” he sighs. “Sorry that I’m venting like this to you. I am a little frustrated. It’s supposed to be a new season and I’m seeing things from last season that I thought we already worked on.”

“That’s fine,” she tells him. “Just don’t take it out on yourself, okay? I don’t like this quiet, frustrated Nico. Talk to me, talk to your team, talk to your coaches. It helps.”

Nico gives her a small smile. “I know.”

“Good,” she says. “Now, go take a shower because you still stink. I’ll make us some snacks and we can watch a movie, okay?”

He nods again and walks down the hallway.

Yeah, he’s allowed to be frustrated. Blaming himself is not the best thing to be doing, especially with the way he has been playing to start the season.

There are still 70 something games left to play. He doesn’t need to blame himself on game 8 of the season.

༺──────────────༻

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[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 14

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 4.9K+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader, hoseok x reader

note | *cue that tiktok sound* okay, guys. we're back. did you miss us? hi! I'm back with my monthly update 💀 I already outlined everything. there are six chapters left in this series (not including the drabbles). thank you so much for patiently staying around. i appreciate y'all a lot. let me know your thoughts, enjoy reading!

main masterlist | series masterlist

When did texting someone become so hard?

It has been exactly three days since Taehyung got to talk to you again. He offered to drive you home after your date failed to show up. You said yes. You two had a friendly conversation in his car. Like you were old friends, which you were. But were you? It’s complicated. For the first time in years, he heard your laugh and saw you smile just like in the photos he saw when cleaning up at your shared house. He remembered you waving at him with a soft smile on your lips before getting into your apartment building.

You also said you never changed your number and you would reach out. But he wants to update you about the small celebration the bakery will have later next week. He tried typing something but later erased it before he could even finish the first word. He doesn’t know what to type or how to begin a conversation. So he just typed a single character and hit the send button.

It was past six in the evening. You were already in your PJs after a long day at work. Treating yourself with dumplings and beef fried rice from the nearest Chinese restaurant in your area, you let yourself indulge while your favorite sitcom plays on your TV screen.

“You’re not easy-going, but you’re passionate, and that’s good. And when you get upset about the little things, I think that I’m pretty good about making you feel better about that. And that’s good too. So, they can say that you’re high maintenance, but it’s okay because I like…maintaining you.”

You found yourself pursing your lips when your favorite character said that line. It was one of the quotes that stays in the back of your head almost every time. You were about to reach for the remote control to play it back again. But your phone, which you set into silent mode an hour ago, vibrated. Your eyebrows shoot up as you read who sent you a message.

From Jung Hoseok

Hi, YN. I really regret missing our date last time. Would you be willing to give me another chance with a cup of coffee this Friday? I know a great cafe around the city 🙂

The day after he failed to show up at the restaurant, you woke up to a text message from Hoseok apologizing again. You reassured him that you understood and he promised to make it up to you. You didn’t really expect anything from that and thought that he would just pass by like your past dates that Martha set up. So seeing him reaching out again was unexpected.

You smiled as you typed a reply.

To Jung Hoseok

Will there be tea? I don’t drink coffee.

You see those three dots immediately popping in, indicating that he’s typing. So you quickly typed in a follow-up message.

To Jung Hoseok

Just kidding! I’m okay with Friday. Around 5 PM?

He was quick to reply,

From Jung Hoseok

Okay. Should I pick you up?

You thought you would just feel pressured if he picked you up at your home. So you just offered an alternative.

To Jung Hoseok

We can just meet there :) Just send me the cafe’s location.

From Jung Hoseok

[location pin] 

To Jung Hoseok

Thank you! See you this Friday then.

From Jung Hoseok

See you, YN!

That’s a date for Friday, which is a few days from now. Even though he reached out again, you thought of keeping your expectations low. Because it helps avoid disappointment. You probably learned after your last dates with those guys you met before.

You continued playing the episode you were watching. Not even five minutes later, your phone vibrated again. You thought Hoseok forgot something. But immediately after reading the contact name, you froze staring at your screen.

From Aaa Love

👋

Of course, you quickly recognized who it was. Suddenly, you felt a sense of nostalgia in your head after seeing that name for a long time. Years after keeping this contact hidden on your list, you totally forgot that you never changed his contact name even after the accident. You cannot even remember when you hid his name in your list. Maybe it was one of those nights you were drunk with friends and made some decisions.

Before replying, you renamed the contact.

To Kim Taehyung

Hi, Tae 🙂

While waiting for his reply, you recalled that night. You remembered feeling good entering your apartment even though your date didn’t show up. When Jisoo asked you how it went through a video chat, you said that the date didn’t happen.

“Then, why do you look happy?” she asked that time.

That’s when you snapped out of your daze, “D-Do I?”

“Yeah, you’ve been smiling ever since we got on this call.”

“Oh…” your lips formed a thin line before speaking again. “I… I saw an old friend in the same restaurant.”

The last time you and Jisoo really talked about Taehyung was still the time she showed up unexpectedly after her wedding. You cried, she cried.

“Really? Who?”

“Taehyung.”

You wait for her reaction and you gradually see her eyes widen.

“What? What is he doing there? Did you talk?” she asked with surprise in her tone.

“Apparently, he’s doing some business here. And yes, we talked. He offered to drive me home.” you shared.

“And?”

“It was nice.”

Your simple and short answer had Jisoo simply staring at you through the screen. It was like she was studying you. You knew she had a lot to say in her head based on her quiet reaction. But then, she just said,

“Okay.”

From Kim Taehyung

Hello, YN. Just making sure I have the right number here haha

Taehyung finally replied. You let the episode play in the background as you tap on your screen,

To Kim Taehyung

I told you I didn’t change it!

From Kim Taehyung

I know, I’m sorry hehe

Just by the text, you can imagine him awkwardly laughing as he says that. Before you can reply, another text popped in.

From Kim Taehyung

Btw the celebration will be in the bakeshop. Next Saturday, 2 PM.

From Kim Taehyung

It’s a late lunch event with friends and family. We’re hoping you can come 😊

Reading that, a smile formed on your lips. With you working at school, you are usually free on weekends. 

To Kim Taehyung

Will do!

“Can you put dinosaurs in it?”

“Of course, bud. Anything you like.”

Taehyung softly ruffled Jihoon’s hair, who remained focused on coloring his activity book. The little kid’s birthday is coming up soon and the preparations for it had begun. Since Jimin would be the one making the multi-layered birthday Jurassic-themed cake, Taehyung offered to make the cupcakes. 

A couple of toys, specifically, dinosaurs, are all over the table that Jihoon and Taehyung occupy. And ever since he arrived at the shop this morning, the kid kept talking about his favorite animal. Being the best uncle that he is, Taehyung listens while being quietly amazed by how much Jihoon knows about dinosaurs. 

“Ashley just sent a copy of the contract in our e-mail earlier. She wants us to review it first before finalizing.” Jimin spoke while placing an apple juice box on the table.

Jihoon scoots a little to accommodate his father sitting next to him. He stayed busy with his crayons. 

“Have you read it?” Jimin asked.

Taehyung shakes his head, “I haven’t. I think I left my phone on silent while doing those lemon tarts.”

“Well, I think you should read it. They put something they probably forgot to mention before.” his friend noted.

His eyebrows draw together before reaching for his phone. Taehyung immediately clicked on the file sent to him from Ashley. He carefully read word by word written in the document. He thought everything was already mentioned in their online meeting days after he went to Incheon. Until he read one of the sections of the contract.

Staffing Arrangements

The bakery agrees to temporarily assign one of its capable bakers to work at the restaurant in Incheon for four weeks, beginning on the first day of offering the pastries on the menu of the restaurant. During this time, the assigned baker will head pastry production, equip training for restaurant staff, and guarantee regular quality control. The restaurant agrees to cover the entrusted baker's salary, expenses, and even housing if demanded.

After pausing for a few seconds, Taehyung scanned his eyes all over that part again. Just to make sure he understood it right. He looked back up to Jimin, who had his arms crossed over his chest while waiting for a reaction from him.

“So?”

“This means one of us had to stay here while the other had to manage around in Incheon.”

September is usually dry and warmer in Incheon.

After living in this part of the country for around two years now, you already got better at predicting the weather and climate. But today, your predictions were proven wrong when you had to stay under a waiting shed while the harsh raindrops poured continuously. You were too confident that you left your umbrella at home.

4:12 PM

You looked down at your phone. It has been almost thirty minutes since you stood in this shed, waiting for your usual bus to arrive. But you don’t know why there have only been two buses that passed by. You were unable to get on any of those since both were packed, considering the unexpected rainfall. You tried booking a cab but there’s nothing around your area at the moment. Your friend, Aileen already left earlier with her husband while Martha offered to drive you home but you live almost twenty minutes away from her. So, you kindly rejected her offer. Again, you were too confident that you would be able to ride the bus quickly.

Puffing your cheeks, you began dialing someone’s number. He answered after the second ring.

“Hey, Hoseok…” you greeted.

He was quick to reply, “Hi, are you on your way? I’m driving to the cafe.”

“Yeah, uhm, I’m kinda running late for our date tonight.” you chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay. Everything alright?” 

“Haha, yeah. Just waiting for a bus to stop by here the school. It’s raining like crazy today.” you mentioned.

“Yeah, it is… you know, I can pick you up if you want to.” he offered.

Your eyebrows lifted, “Really?”

“Of course, YN.”

“Okay, thank you so much!” you smiled, finally.

“No worries. I’m on my way.”

“Okay, take care,” you said before ending the call.

With your plans of getting ready pre-date at your home canceled, you sat on one of the benches in the shed and touched up yourself quickly. You reapplied your lipstick with your front camera as your mirror. You ran your hand through the stubborn flyaways of your hair before tying it into the easiest half-up, half-down hairstyle you know. You’re still in your usual work clothes, a statement T-shirt (with a friendly and maybe corny quote written on it and jeans. Originally, you would wear something cuter. But this one will do. Even though the cool breeze makes you wish you wore something warmer too.

And less than five minutes later, a black Audi stops right in front of the stop. Your legs bounced restlessly. The windows were tinted dark so you cannot really see who’s inside. But the door on the other side of the car opened and there, you recognized the man from the pictures on Martha’s phone. Almost like sunshine, his smile as he made his way to you made you smile too. Your fidgeting legs had already calmed down as he stopped in front of you.

“YN?” He asked since this was the first time you two really saw each other.

You nodded, “Hi. You’re Hoseok, right?”

Although you were at ease with his arrival, there was still an awkward tension between you two. But it tones down when you two chuckled.

“Yes, nice to meet you.” he smiled again. He quickly noticed you hugging yourself. “It’s cold. How about let’s get you inside?��

“Sounds good.” you agreed.

Joining him under his transparent umbrella, your shoulders brushed against each other, and you could feel his warmth beside you. He opened the car door for you while ensuring no raindrop would touch your skin. You mumbled a small ‘thank you’ when you finally got to sit inside. You watched as he made his way back to the driver’s side of the car.

“Are you okay? Everything’s fine?” he asked immediately.

“Yeah, thank you again for picking me up,” you replied. 

“You’re welcome,” he replied before reaching for something from the backseat. 

Your eyes widened when you saw what it was. It was like your eyes sparkled as he handed you the small bouquet of yellow tulips, tied with a matching gold ribbon. 

“I’m really sorry for missing our date last time.” he apologized, watching you appreciate the flowers.

It has been so long since you received flowers. You cannot even remember when was the last time. So you cannot help but feel this funny feeling in your stomach while you look at the flowers. Especially since yellow tulips are your favorite.

“You didn’t have to. I understand why,” you spoke, tilting your head in his direction. Your voice was small and soft.

“Still, you waited for me alone in that restaurant. I cancelled last minute… Do you love it?”

“Of course, I love yellow tulips!” you exclaimed before taking in its subtle scent.

“I’m glad. I may or may not have asked Martha for help with those.” he chuckled.

Hoseok began driving while you find it more comfortable being around him. He has this infectious smile that brings more warmth in this rainy weather. It probably helps when he’s with patients.

“How long have you been waiting there?” he asked, starting up a conversation.

“Oh, you know, like half an hour.” you sneered at yourself. You hear him gasp. You chuckled, “To be fair, it is a rainy day. I can usually find a ride easily. I just didn’t expect that it would rain today.”

“It’s usually sunny at this time of the year,” he noted.

“It is. I was already waiting for the bus when the rain poured,” you told him. 

“I thought you and Martha usually go home together?” he asked, looking from the road to you for a quick second.

“Sometimes. But I feel bad for making her drive past her house for like twenty minutes,” you revealed. 

You tried offering to pay for her gas but she declined. Although she constantly assured you that it’s fine, you feel like an inconvenience, especially after a busy day at work. You are very aware it’s a you problem. But it’s just the way it is.

You shifted in your seat, “How about you? Did you have work today?”

He nods, “Ah, yes. I got off my shift earlier this day. Then went home to see my dog before dropping her off at my sister’s.”

“Oh, you have a dog?”

“Yeah, a senior dog but Mickey’s still the family’s baby.” he chuckled. “We take turns with her. Some days, she’s with me. Or my sister’s or my parents’.”

“So, you’re originally from here in Incheon?” you asked, curious when he mentioned his family.

He shakes his head, “No, we moved here when I was in high school. I left during college. Then, came back when I began working. I like staying close to my family. And you?”

“No, I moved here from Seoul two years ago.” you shared.

“And what about your family? They stayed there?” he asked.

“Nope, I’m an only child. My parents died years ago– Please, don’t say you’re sorry. It’s fine, it’s been so long.” you chuckled when you saw how his expression changed. “But I do have my Aunty Belle. She’s around the city too. She looked after me until I left to study in SNU.”

“You went to SNU too?” Hoseok exclaimed.

You beamed, “Yes– Wait, we’re here?”

He laughed, “Yeah.”

Distracted, you didn’t notice the car arriving in front of the cafe Hoseok talked about. He told you to wait for him, leaving the car with the umbrella. He opened the car door for you and helped you with the umbrella. He does the same thing when opening the cafe’s front door for you. And when a bell clangs when the door opens, you get reminded of your favorite bakeshop back in Seoul.

“I’ll be having iced americano and a slice of carrot cake. How ‘bout you?” Hoseok turned to you as you two stood in front of the staff.

“I’ll have green tea and banana muffins,” you answered.

After ordering, you two sat on one of the empty pearly white tables and chairs near the glass window while waiting. It was a well-lit place. It has a minimalist and clean aesthetic. Hoseok sat across you, tapping his fingers along to the music playing in the background.

“So, what made you agree to do this blind date?” you asked him.

“Well, I’ve been single for the last three months and I never really tried blind dating before so I said yes when Martha told me about you,” he answered.

“Well, I hope she said nice things.” you two chuckled.

“Don't worry, she did.” He assured you. “How about you?”

“Martha had been setting me up for blind dates these past few months because I’ve been single ever since I came here in Incheon. The last dates I went to were unsuccessful so she promised that this one was gonna be great. So I agreed for the last time.” you told him.

“And so far, how is this one going?” he asked cheekily.

You pretended to think for a second, humming as you rubbed your chin. He laughed.

“It’s going great. You get plus points for my favorite flowers.” you smiled.

“Even though I didn't show up last time?”

He seemed really apologetic about that. He brought it up again for the nth time even though you already told him countless times that it’s okay.

You puffed, “Hoseok, it's fine. I really do understand. I used to work at a hospital, things can get a little spontaneous. No worries about it.”

A staff member came with your orders. She carefully placed your drinks and food on your table. You can feel your shoulders relaxing as you feel the warmth of the tea on your tongue when you take a sip from the cup.

“How was it?”

You smiled, “Nice. Perfect for a rainy day. How did you find this place? I don't think I ever reached this part of the city.”

“This is the only open cafe I see whenever I get off from my shift very late at night. I love their coffee here.” 

You nodded while taking a bite from the banana muffin you ordered. And you quickly recognized its difference from your usual banana muffin. You look at Hoseok who's enjoying his cake.

“How was it?” he asked, pointing his fork at your muffins.

“This feels a little dry and the texture’s a bit rough,” you whispered, not really wanting the nice lady at the cashier to hear you.

You don't want to be critical. But you just got used to having a soft and fluffy banana muffin or even bread with the right amount of sweetness in it.

He leaned a bit forward, mirroring you, “Really?” 

“Yeah, seems like it had a lot of flour,” you added before offering him one of the muffins.

You watched him take a bite and chew on it. After gulping it down, you wait for his opinion.

“It is dry.” he nods before putting the muffin down. “You seem to know a lot about bread. Do you bake?”

No, but I know someone who put his heart out and is a perfectionist in baking.

Instead of saying that, you shake your head.

“Oh, no. But I do love a lot of bread and pastries. I just know friends who bake back in Seoul.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We probably didn't get to discuss that in the meeting we had.” 

Taehyung, along with Jimin, sat at the same table since that morning. Jihoon’s mom already picked him up earlier and the shop was already sold out by 5 PM so they closed early. Now, they are just having a call with Ashley about the contract.

“So, it means that based here on the contract, you want one of us to stay there in Incheon to oversee the pastries.” Jimin clarified.

“Yes, we just want to make sure that the quality of the products will be the same as what you have there in Seoul. Also, we thought that it might be better for our crew members to personally learn about it from the baker himself.” Ashley explained through the call set in loudspeaker mode.

Jimin looked at Taehyung who nods with that. This time, Taehyung has a question.

“You said that there would be a salary?” 

“Yes. There would be a separate salary for the baker who will be staying here with us for four weeks. And since traveling from Seoul to Incheon can be a hassle, if you want to, we can also provide temporary accommodation with complete furniture. My husband runs a condominium business here so the accommodation would be on one of his buildings.”

Both of the men’s jaws dropped with that information. Their eyes were wide as they met each other's gaze. They definitely didn't expect that information from her. They were unaware of how rich she was. They just know that she runs a great restaurant in Incheon.

Jimin cleared his dry throat, “Okay, thank you for clarifying it. But we hope you can still wait before we sign the contract since me and my friend still have to talk about it.” 

“Sure, of course. Just reach out to us whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you. Have a great night.”

As soon as Jimin ended the call, the two exchanged looks.

“So?” Taehyung began.

Jimin shakes his head, “I can't. Jihoon just began going to school. You know what my co-parenting arrangements with his mom are.” 

Taehyung nods. After learning about Jihoon’s existence, Jimin wanted to make up for those years he missed. He was hands-on in everything that his son takes part in. He is also helping Jihoon’s mom in looking after him since she is currently working in a nine-to-five job.

“It's fine with me. I went on vacation there once. It's nice there. Plus, we can split the salary.” He commented. 

And he didn't really have any obligations here in Seoul. Unlike his best friend. It would be easier and better if he went. Jimin can manage the shop while taking care of Jihoon. Taehyung is flexible in working everywhere. 

“It would also be nice to stay in a new place.”

“No, but the living finances in Seoul are really more expensive than here.”

You don't sure how long has it been since you and Hoseok arrived here in the cafe. You already finished your tea while the ice on his drink has already melted. The only muffin left was half-eaten. The plate of his carrot cake was already on your after he let you finish it when he noticed that you liked it after giving you a taste.

“It is. That's also another reason why I came back here.” Hoseok exclaimed. “I can't stand living with another careless roommate again.”

You laughed when he referenced his bad roommate experience he told you earlier. Hoseok has been funny and nice ever since he picked you up today. He talked about Mickey, his life back in Seoul, and a little bit about his family.

“But you said you stayed in Seoul after graduating, right?” he recalled.

“Yes, I did.”

“How? Did you live alone?”

“At first, I became roommates with my best friend there, who’s also a nurse. That lasted for a couple of years... Then, I moved in with the guy I was dating at the time.” You told him.

“Like in his apartment?”

You shake your head, “We bought a house.”

His jaw dropped, “You bought a house? In Seoul?!”

“Yeah, we did some research and saved up for it starting from our first anniversary. Apparently, foreclosed properties are cheap there.” You shared it like a fact.

Taehyung was the first one to bring up the idea of living together a few weeks before your anniversary. After talking about it, you two did some research and went to a lot of open houses. Then, you found out about foreclosed properties. Taehyung and you looked in about four foreclosed houses before landing on the one you called home. 

“What happened to the house after you broke up?” He asked.

You purse your lips, “He's living in it. But we agreed to talk about it soon.”

How soon is soon though?

“So it was a good breakup?”

“Yeah. I guess so.” 

The last sentence was almost a whisper by the end. You cleared your throat as if something was stuck in it. It was your turn to ask.

“How about you? How was your last relationship?”

Hoseok leaned back on his chair, crossing his arm over his chest, “It was great for the most part. We’ve been together for only one year. I actually proposed to her.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, “Really? What happened?”

“We had a lot of misunderstandings in the last months of our relationship. It can be about everything. But mostly, she gets mad whenever I have an emergency in the hospital and I understand that. So one day, we harshly broke up during a fight before I left for work.”

“So it's a bad breakup?” 

“Yeah, a bit bitter.” He sneered. “But at least I don't share any property with her.”

It was a teasing remark to lighten up the mood. You grimaced and rolled your eyes. He laughed.

“The lady was too kind to ask us to go,” you said as Hoseok drove.

The moment you and Hoseok realized that the rain had stopped and the sky was already dark, you two got up and left. Hoseok insisted on paying, even playfully threatening to throw your wallet away if you ever pulled it out of your pocket.

“I’m sure she doesn't mind. She gave us free cupcakes.” He replied, pointing to the box resting on your lap.

“Are you sure you don't want to take this?” you asked because he handed you the box as soon as the lady gave it.

“Yeah, just update me with your review about it. I'm interested to hear more about your thoughts.”

You bit your lip from hearing that, “Okay.”

After a few minutes of listening (and singing along) to songs that played in his stereo, you arrived in front of your building. Of course, Hoseok opened your door for you. He helped you with the bag you brought to school so you could carry the flowers and cupcakes.

“Should I help you to your apartment?” He asked while you slid your bag into your arm, struggling. 

You gave up, letting him take your bag and the cupcakes, “Okay. Come in.”

You opened the door to your building and led the way to the stairs. He assured you that he was okay as you kept on looking back at him. And when you unlocked your apartment, you turned around.

"Do you want to go inside? Water, juice, or anything to drink?” You offered before putting the things on the counter near your door.

He smiled, “It's fine, I can't stay for too long. My next shift is at nine. I just want to make sure you'll make it to your door without dropping any of those.”

You looked down at your watch, “Oh my god. It’s already past eight. You should go! I should've taken a cab.”

“YN, it's okay! It's still early.” he chuckled. “Plus, I had a really great time talking with you.”

Your stomach flutters, looking at him. You noticed the same smile you saw earlier.

“I hope this isn't the last time we'll go out.”

You nodded, “Of course. Martha did it right this time.”

“How about next weekend? Sunday?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll be back from Seoul by then.” 

His eyebrows raised, “Really? I’m going to be in Seoul for a conference on Saturday. When are you coming there?”

“The same day! I’m going to visit some friends.”  

“Maybe we can go there in Seoul together? So you don't have to commute.” He offered.

“That sounds good!” You agreed before looking down at your watch again. “But I think you should go now. I know you still have to do stuff before going to work.”

“Okay. Let's just talk about it later.” 

“Okay. Thank you for the flowers and everything, Hoseok,” you state before leaning in to give a quick kiss on his cheek.

He smiles, “You're welcome, YN. Tonight was great.”

“Text me when you make it to the hospital. Drive safely! Good night.”  You said as he walked back.

“Good night, YN.” He waved before walking down the stairs.

You closed the door to your apartment before leaning your back on it, looking at the yellow tulips on the counter.

What a lovely night.

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[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part twenty-one

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty

-

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, Sephiroth sends out a text message.

After an evening and night spent meditating, reading and cultivating, figuring out the ins and outs of his hardened meridian system and going through the files Genesis had had delivered to him, Sephiroth's come to the conclusion that meditation isn't enough. He needs to condition his body properly, and that means forms, that means movements - that means he really misses easy access to all the collected cultivation manuals of Qing Jing Peak's impressive libraries.

Ultimately what it really means is that he needs more space than his single room apartment has.

"If we're banned from the training room, where can I go train?"

"Goddess beyond, Sephiroth, it's supposed to be your day off," Genesis replies and then, soon after, "Just go to the training room. Who could stop you?"

He's really not sure about training in front of people. "Is that really the only option?"

"Well, you could do what you always do and just take a mission."

Mission, like the dozen or so on his phone involving Wutai? Which had a lot of kill everyone and exterminate the opposition and leave no one alive!?

Yeah, okay. Training room it is, then!

After carefully selecting an outfit that would look reasonably in character for the future Big Bad while also being a bit more comfortable than three different things of leather. And he still pulls on the, now slightly better fitting, leather coat with its huge shoulder guards, too! He should look… more or less in character.

People still stare as he makes his way through floor 49, other SOLDIERs in their much more comfortable looking uniforms and not so comfortable looking helmets. There's a handful of them hanging around, sitting by the window or chatting, SOLDIER Seconds and Thirds waiting for assignments. There are some people in lab coats hanging around there too, just as a reminder of the true nature of the program.

Sephiroth had read about that too - everything Genesis had sent him about SOLDIER and the things he is supposed to already know. 

SOLDIER, as much as they are the elite warriors of Shinra, their OP human weapons in the war to conquer the planet… are also lab rats. They'd all signed up on it in order to get those enhancements, and now Shinra's Science Department can do… just about whatever they want with them!

They're constantly being tested for performance and given experimental training, treatments and gear to test out. Almost all Materia and medicine Shinra produces goes through SOLDIER field testing before going into mass production. Because it's better that it's a SOLDIER dealing with the fallout if the Materia blows up in his face or the medicine makes him projectile vomit. They can handle it!

Ah, corporate dystopia with minimal human rights. Fun stuff.

Sephiroth walks past them all, barely acknowledging them, and aims for the training room. Which… really seems more like a testing ground, now that there's actual personnel there.

There's no one in the training room itself - but there are two technicians in the observatory adjacent.

"S-Sephiroth!" a lab technician stutters as he enters  - the only way into the training room goes through the observatory, past all the monitoring equipment and computers. "What can we do for you?"

"I want to train," Sephiroth says in his best villain drawl, motioning to the training room with Masamune.

"Ah, that's - director Deusericus told us -"

Sephiroth narrows his eyes. "Oh, so I can't?"

The second lab tech elbows the first out of the way. "Of course you can, of course! Professor Hojo would be thrilled to have your training data," he assures, though the words are clearly aimed, very pointedly, at the other tech. "What kind of program settings would you like? We have a selection of new enemy AI and different environments - including numerous Wutai-inspired sequences!"

Sephiroth hesitates. That… could be interesting, actually. "Something from Wutai, with buildings - no enemies." That might give him a sense of what Wutai was like, culture-wise.

"... How are you going to train without enemies?"

Do SOLDIER not do forms? "Hmph," Sephiroth answers and turns to the training room, waving the electronic sliding door open. "Just start the simulation."

Seems like he got his villainous demanding attitude right, because they do. Seems like short and to the point is really the best way to hide a supposed amnesia!

Soon Sephiroth finds himself standing in a courtyard of what looks vaguely like some noble family's estate, feeling strangely like he's in a dream where everything is just a little bit off.

The simulation is… well, it kind of feels like a weird amusement park version of Asia, a mix of Japanese and Chinese aesthetics. The buildings have Japanese architecture for the most part, with bare unpainted wood and stone - but the roofs are all elaborate hip roofs. The written language, what little he can see of it, is in Mandarin, but the calligraphy style is very Japanese, very lyrical and artistic but without much form.

There's no bamboo in sight. Shame.

But at least the false environment makes it feel a little less like he's being watched - though he can still tell he is. Even with Sephiroth's burnt spiritual veins, he has pretty good senses.

Well, it's not like he hasn't trained with an audience before.

Unsheathing Masamune, Sephiroth holds the sheath in his off hand and takes a pose, breathing deeply in and concentrating. He still can't quite circulate his Qi, but he can sort it… flash it through himself in pulses, which lights up his meridian system and brings out the faults and snags therein.

Sephiroth is strong, hardy, seemingly endlessly durable. He's also fast, his overactive muscles easily going past the limitations of your usual normal human conditions. The issue is not quite his overall flexibility - but his… suppleness, maybe?

You need your veins to flex and contract for healthy circulation, and that's the same with energy. Thanks to the Mako treatments and the emphasis on stamina and strength, Sephiroth's whole system is just… hard. Every part of him is hardened to endure who knows what, and it gives his meridian system very little give. 

So that's what his form needs to focus on, increasing his meridian system's pliancy.  

All the while wondering if all SOLDIERs were working with these kinds of toughened meridians, Sephiroth pulses his energy and begins to move. Qing Jing Peak sword forms work well enough for him, it turns out - as spiritual cultivators, they also have to maintain certain spiritual flexibility, after all. He needs to adjust the forms to the sword he has, but that's not too difficult. A lot of spiritual swordsmen use sword glares to extend the shape and size of their cutting edge, so the forms already have some wiggle room.

Soon Sephiroth has a set of moves that work the best, making his pulses of energy work better and better, until his whole meridian system buzzes, active and alive. He can even feel the beginnings of activity in his frankly neglected dantians, as energy wooshes through him in waves. It feels… pretty great.

What he doesn't know is that on the outside it looks rather like Sephiroth just activated a Limit Break - by will alone.

-

Someone making waves, hehe

[bandnerdlevel43]

Day Three- Reunion (Modern)

Lu Legend x Ravio (Ravioli) 

Summary: Ravio has been off on a business trip with Hilda for a month now, and Legend has been getting lonely. Now he's coming back- right on the day of the chain’s jazz band performance.

Word Count: 6,911 (This is a long one)

Warnings: If you read my first fic, you know I don’t swear but it’s there for the vibe; Legend has anxiety, Legend has a flashback in a flashback involving non graphic stab wounds and a reference to his dead uncle, improper use of a trumpet spit valve, Fable is a menace, Four has to deal with her, author has several agendas and she is pushing ALL of them today, fluff at the end, super über long fic

A/N (Please read this, it's important): I'm back! I procrastinated this one for way too long, but I finally finished it! I somehow also managed to finish day four and five before this one, so those will also be posted with this. Go check them out here and here!

…Anyways, it's time for me to come clean. I'm a band kid. And a proud one, too. I saw this post and went absolutely nuts, so of course I had to write about a jazz band au. Give the post some love (since op is inactive) because most of it was the basis for this au.

Important part: The last song they play in this fic is “Want You Gone” by the 8-Bit Big Band, feat. Benny Benack III, and I suggest you listen to it! The lyrics are hilarious but if you don’t listen to it before the fic itself you’ll get lost very easily. If you see any music words you’re unfamiliar with, either throw me an ask or you can look it up on your browser. Sorry for the long note; I hope you enjoy!

----

Good news: We’re on our way back! We’ll be home by the twenty-third.

We have a performance that day.

I won’t see you.

I can drop in. Don’t worry! We’ll make it, I promise.

Alright. Love you.

I love you too, Link.

“Texting your boyfriend?” Fable chirped.

Legend jumped, shielding his phone and glaring at his sister. “None of your business,” he spat.

Fable grinned, toying with the reed in her fingers. “You sure you don’t have that message memorized?”

“Shut up,” he hissed.

Wind blew into his trombone, imitating a wolf-whistle while wiggling his eyebrows. Legend snorted. “Real mature, Sailor.”

Sky paused the plucking of his bass’s strings, his eyes flicking from his tuner to Legend as his brows furrowed. “Isn’t he coming back today?”

“Yep,” Fable trilled gleefully. “And Legend is beside himself with lovesickness!”

“Fable!” Legend growled. Great goddesses, could she be any more insufferable?

Well, apparently she could. “His lonely heart, separated from his lover for what seemed like years,” she sighed, swooning dramatically. “Tonight they'll reunite in a passionate embrace, proclaiming their love to-”

Twilight appeared from behind her and swatted her upside the head. “Leave ‘im alone,” he chided. While Fable scampered away, giggling, he tossed a tiny bottle to Wind, who snatched it out of the air. “Slide grease.”

“Thanks, Rancher.” Wind saluted. 

“Anything you two need?” Twilight asked, looking at Sky and Legend. Both shook their heads. 

“Hey, Twilight!” Four sauntered up to the small gathering, tenor sax slung over his shoulder by the strap. “We need cork grease over here.” He blinked at Legend and pointed out needlessly, “Your face is red. You okay?”

Legend didn't think his face could heat any further. He was wrong. “I'm fine,” he muttered.

“He's just madly in love,” Wind said mischievously. Both Fable and Sky snickered. He glared at them, Sky in particular. I thought better of you, bird boy.

Four's lips twitched upwards in a smirk. “Ah. This is about Ravio.”

Legend dropped his head into his hands with a groan. Fable, for some bizarre reason that Legend couldn't place, thought this was hilarious, and cackled.

“Reign it in, loverboy.” Four leaned against the wall. “You still need to warm up, and no one likes to hold a cold hand.”

Legend kicked at his knee. “Watch it,” he threatened, “Or I'll make your lifespan as short as you are.”

A chorus of “oohs” sounded around the room. Four chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “Cheer up. You'll get your kisses soon.”

Fable howled hysterically, slapping her thigh. Legend could feel how red his face was as Four ran through the smuggest scale he had ever heard. It wasn't even that witty, but Wind was still squeaking like a chipmunk, and of course Sky snorted. Twilight at least was trying his hardest to appear indifferent, but Legend knew how hard it was to keep one's composure when Fable leans on you for support while wheezing directly in your ear.

“Ledge!” Wars hollered from backstage. “Get your sorry backside over here; I want to run through this song with you.”

Legend aimed one last petty kick at Four before standing. He hefted his case and stomped off, pointedly ignoring the way Fable pretended to faint into a scandalized Twilight's arms, crying, “Save me, Mister Hero!”

That shook him more than he'd have liked to admit. He bit his tongue to keep from throttling Fable for making fun of Ravio. Well, even if she hadn't mocked him, he still would've done it. And she still would've deserved it.

Wars watched him approach, his expression neutral. Legend thrust open his case aggressively and jammed the various pieces together. His jaw was tense and he avoided Wars’ gaze.

“Careful,” his brother commented. “You'll scratch her.”

Legend exhaled a controlled breath and quelled the ache in his gut that shouldn't exist in the first place. He suffocated it with thoughts of flats and sharps, of staccatos and tenudos, of the cool metal on his lips and fingertips, and of the notes both painted on the page and burned into his very soul. It was a familiar ritual that helped ease a bit of himself into the music, breathing color into the diverse melodies, rhythms, and even his brothers. It never failed, even when Fable did it with him.

Until today.

Somehow, his thoughts still circled back to his blasted boyfriend. His cheery grin had that same brightness as the sheen on his trumpet. His eyes danced with the same mischief that Sky eased from his bass. His arms would envelop him, soothing in a way that reminded him of playing with his brothers and sister. His tears spoke the same words as an instrument in need of care: always frustrated with himself and never anyone else. His hands- they shook before adversity. Just how Legend's own trembled right then, his mind's eye suddenly brimming with images of hundreds of people, Ravio in the midst of them, staring unsympathetically as his fingers stuttered. 

Legend cursed, his hands dropping to his sides. He flattened himself against the wall, sinking to the floor. Hylia, he could already tell he was going to mess up badly.  He had practiced these songs with the others for weeks, and it was about to mean nothing. To make matters worse, he had a solo. Not any old solo, either, but an improvised solo. Improvising solos was nothing new to him. This stabbing pain was new. It twisted at his heart like a common school bully to a poor victim's shirt. Loneliness (And yes, Farore strike him down, but Fable was right. He was lonely.) had him at its mercy. And now, Ravio was so close. Legend was going to fumble the solo in front of him, and that fear alone blurred his thoughts until he couldn't discern one tangled bundle of nerves from another.

Wars sat down next to him. He laid a hand on Legend's shoulder and asked softly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Legend shook his head hopelessly. There was nothing he could say that Fable hadn't said already. Besides, with how Wars fixed him with those knowing eyes, he understood better than Legend himself did.

“Breathe with me, alright?” Wars let go of his shoulder, hand gesturing to his chest. Legend didn't have much pride to lose, so he complied. When Wars' chest rose, he breathed in. When it sank, he breathed out. In, two, three, four. Hold… Out, two, three, four. It didn't take much time before Legend grew irritated, thinking that this was taking too long. His time would be better spent practicing! He should be tuning, warming up, looking over his music again, anything! Not some barely effective breathing exercise that his brother only did when Wind was having stage fright, or when Sky struggled through an asthma attack. Or when Wild had a particularly bad flashback. Or when Rulie awoke, screaming, from a nightmare. Did… Did he really look that bad? That distressed?

Wars lifted his trumpet to his lips. “Tune me.”

With that, the sound of the instrument filled the room. Wild’s snare hidden in the corner rattled in complaint. He forced himself to block it out and focus on the note as it wavered in his ears, settling on something just a little off. “Pull it out,” Legend said, nodding to the tuning slide.

Wars adjusted the slide, and the pitch dropped. Well, now it's flat, Legend thought irritably. He pointed upwards. This time, Wars shifted the position of his lips on the mouthpiece, which finally sharpened the tone enough to satisfy the two of them.

“Keep playing.” Legend lifted his own trumpet to his face. He played the same note until they matched, then tested a handful of notes that harmonized with his brother's. There was not a single sign of dissention between the two. What he would give to simplify his emotions like that. 

“Ready?” asked the man beside him. 

“As I'll ever be,” Legend mumbled.

Wars patted him on the back and helped him up. “Remember, it's just like any other performance,” he assured him. “Just keep playing, and you'll do great “

“Thanks,” Legend grunted. 

“Don't worry about it.” Wars smiled. “Let's run through the program. Start on my mark: one, two, ready…”

Wild, Flora, Time and Hyrule returned with dinner. Those who remained behind joined them to eat. The meal was quick, consisting of a tray of sandwiches and a bowl of salad. Legend didn't feel like eating. Everyone, including him, was eager to get back to practice, now as a full band, and they wasted no time in getting to it.

Rehearsal flew by uncomfortably fast. Everything went smoothly, if by smoothly, one meant “absolute disaster”. Oh, everyone else was fine. Legend made too many mistakes. This only gave Fable and Wind more ammo to torment him with, and only after a harsh reprimand from Wars did they stop. He wanted to feel grateful for his intervention, but the seed had already been planted. Now it was performance time, and he couldn't help the sudden panic that attacked him. He hyperventilated. His hands were clammy and they shook uncontrollably. Only Hyrule's calm comfort prevented him from losing control.

“Shhh,” Rulie whispered, rubbing his hands gently. “It'll be okay, Legend, I promise.”

“I can't do it,�� he gasped, feeling lightheaded. “I can't go out there.”

“Yes, you can,” Rulie told him forcefully. “You're going out on that stage and you're going to sound amazing.”

“I'm going to mess up,” Legend said, his voice wobbling. “I'm going to ruin the whole performance in front of him-”

“No, you won't,” he interrupted. “And even if you did, his opinion of you won't change. Ravio loves you no matter what.”

Legend didn't respond. Rulie squeezed him in a quick hug and guided him to where the rest of the band waited. “Breathe,” he reminded him.

Time nodded at the two of them. He handed Rulie his bass guitar, who accepted it graciously. “Are you two boys ready?”

“Yup,” Rulie responded confidently.

Wild bared his teeth in a grin, twirling a drumstick in his fingers. “Let's light ‘em up, boys.”

Fable and Wind both whooped, each bodychecking Four. Legend swallowed hard.

With that, they walked onto the stage. Applause immediately assaulted his ears, causing him to wince. He squinted into the spotlights, their dazzling beams glaring daggers into his eyes.  He searched the crowd anxiously, his heart thumping when he couldn't find Ravio. He wanted to slap himself for that. His head yelled at him to just focus. 

Instinctively, he glanced at Rulie. The freckle-dotted face smiled encouragingly, mouthing, “You got this!”

He had to admit, that lifted his spirits, just a little. He took his place at his designated music stand and stared it down, scowling at each note.

“You better not ruin this,” Legend whispered menacingly.

Wars, who had just joined him at the stand, shot him a funny look. “What?”

“Not you,” Legend muttered.

Time stepped up to the microphone. He started his usual introduction, and the crowd quieted to hear his words. Legend hardly listened. His mind was on his sweaty palms. He wiped them on his pants with a soft curse. Did his own body think wringing itself dry of any liquid was going to help him? Brushing his hair out of his eyes also resulted in damp droplets on his fingertips.

“Ledge,” Wars said in a hushed tone, “stop chewing your lip.”

Legend wanted to punch him. He was only trying to help, though, which of course made him want to punch him more. Still, he restrained himself, both from hitting Wars and from giving into his anxious habits.

Cheering announced the end of Time's speech. The old man dipped his head and swept his arm, gesturing at Wild. Wild smiled broadly, raised his drumsticks, and hollered with his typical unhinged energy the usual countdown: “ONE, TWO! ONE, TWO, READY, GO!”

A snap of wood on snare and a plethora of clicks on the hi-hat cracked through the air. Sky plucked an upbeat rhythm on his bass. Hyrule and Wind joined next, hopping from high to low, up and down, badum, badum. Fable’s entrance infused the band with her bright, energetic spirit. She swung and leaped from note to note while the bass drum thrummed in Legend's chest. Fable climbed a scale and Four came in to support her. She hit the top, held it, and cued the rest of the band. Legend was unwillingly swept away by the current of music that was too fast, too quick.

And, of course, thoughts of Ravio came unbidden into his head.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Ravio murmured. “That day in the alley…”

Legend snorted. How could he forget? “Of course I remember.”

He let himself be twirled beneath his partner's arm before once again taking the lead. The two swayed in time with the music amidst the crowd of people, their movements not quite in sync compared to the others. Frankly, he was surprised how natural Ravio made it seem, considering how stiff Legend was. They'd made progress since their first time dancing, and although Legend kept tripping over himself in self-consciousness, they were doing fairly well. 

“All those cultists. You took them out so quickly!” Ravio chuckled. “I wasn't sure if I should've been more scared of you than them.”

“I was sloppy,” Legend muttered. “Too preoccupied with finally looking like the ‘good guy'.”

“Link, I thought I was going to die,” Ravio said seriously. “You were my practical knight in shining armor!”

“A lot of good that did me,” Legend grumbled.

“Hey!” Ravio laughed. “I'm not that bad, am I?”

“I-I didn't mean you,” he said awkwardly. 

“Oh.” Ravio deflated, hesitating. “...Yuga?”

Yuga. Yuga with a knife in his back, pinning him to the wall and tugging at his hair so his ear was to his mouth. He whispered threats while Link strained to breathe through the agony.

“You're not making it out of here alive, little hero,” he hissed. “Say hello to your uncle for me.”

Legend kicked and screamed against the memories. They were choking him, like Yuga all those years ago. The result? He only managed to squeeze out a pathetic handful of right notes. He hid behind Wars’ far more confident sound. Wars sensed what was wrong and covered for his sudden inability to read music.

The only note he really hit right was the last one. No style or soul went into it. He was having enough trouble staying within the key signature.

The audience applauded. Time acknowledged them with a hand.

Legend tugged at his suit. Had it always been this hot? He was overheating. And lightheaded. Was that normal?

“Ledge,” Wars hissed, shoving something cold into his hands. Legend blinked, dazed, at the object- a water bottle. “Water. Drink.”

He didn't have much else to do, so he obeyed. The freezing water was like ice down his throat, shocking him back to reality. He shook away the dizziness and drank more. It burned but was real.

“Breathe,” Wars reminded him for what must've been the fiftieth time that night. “Just hold on. Only two songs. You can do this. Just breathe.”

Why was everyone telling him to breathe? “I have to breathe to play my instrument,” he snarked. 

Wars raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Just like that.”

Before he could come up with a snappy retort, his eyes caught Fable slipping past. She avoided his eyes. Wild handed her his drumsticks and she sat at the drumset. Wild stood by the marimba, casually twirling the mallets in his fingers while Four set aside his tenor for a bari.

Legend paled. Oh. This one, he had forgotten.

This song relied heavily on trumpet to start the band. Fable had no sax to carry the melody.

“Relax,” Wars said sternly. “I'll be here, playing with you.”

Legend pursed his lips and shoved the water bottle back into his brother's hands.

Time finished stalling. It took Legend a moment to realize that Time was not, in fact, waiting for him. He watched for Wild’s, Fable's and Four's signals that they were ready. There was no screaming countdown to start them off this time.

Legend was alone.

He regretted giving Wars his water back. His mouth was dry again. He couldn't seem to swallow. He tried asking for it but the words died on his tongue.

All he had to do was put his lips to the mouthpiece and blow. Din! It shouldn't be this hard!

Twilight waited for him. He was relying on him to cue his part.

Rulie waited for him. His note was essential to harmonize with his counter melody.

Wars waited for him. He only expected him to endure through what little they had left.

“Fight it,” Wars murmured. “Don't let the fear win. You hear me, Link? Fight back.”

“Link? Link, fight it. Wake up!”

Legend gasped for air, greeted by the sight of Ravio's worried eyes fixed on his. Hands were cupping his face, steady and sure. Legend grasped their wrists by instinct, breathing heavily.

“Link, are you alright?” Ravio repeated anxiously. “Can you hear me?”

Legend's eyes darted across the crowded room with the urgency of a frightened prey animal, but when his eyes locked with Ravio's again, his heartbeat slowed. He nodded.

“Do you need some fresh air?” asked the Lolian.

“I- No, I'll be fine,” he said shakily. “Just a flashback.”

“Are you sure? Because we can leave if-”

“No, it's over,” Legend interrupted. “We're not leaving unless you want to.” He inhaled deeply, ignoring his trembling hands.

Suddenly, Ravio's arms were wrapped around him. Legend's breath hitched, his internal screams needlessly reminding him that they were in public!

Legend laughed nervously. “Is there, uh… a specific reason why we're so sentimental all of a sudden?” he coughed awkwardly.

Ravio didn't respond, at first. He buried his face in Legend's shoulder and hummed, “I'm just glad you're here.”

Oh. Well, that was no reason for his face to get so red, was it? So why was his heart beating so quickly? And why did he feel so unreasonably giddy?

Ravio gave him another squeeze before pulling away and continuing the dance. Legend somehow managed to stumble even more than before, but Ravio's bright laugh lightened his mood every time. He supposed this whole dancing thing wasn't too bad.

He was happy to be with Ravio, too.

“Fight it…”

Legend clenched and unclenched his hands. He placed his fingers on the buttons and lips to the mouthpiece. He took one shuddering breath, pouring all he had into his trumpet- all his terror and loneliness and inadequacy. 

What rang out over the stage was a soft, mellow E flat. A single-toned lament. It resonated within his bell before slipping away, eluding his grasp like a hushed whisper of wind.

I miss you, Rav.

It was only when he released the note that he realized that no one else came in. His gaze flitted to Wars. The zeal he found startled him.

“Yes!” Wars’ eyes shimmered with enthusiasm and pride. “Again- C'mon, Legend, you can do it!”

Legend didn't give himself time to think. He hurled himself down the metaphorical leap of faith and howled into the trumpet. 

His brothers answered his call. 

Twilight hummed back, achingly familiar in its mournful cry. Hyrule took on the same tone, grasping it effortlessly but gently, like one would handle an injured animal. Wind's response was frustrated, like him. It was as much of a duet of music as it was a duet of feeling.

Legend released the note, and breathed. He sunk into the hopeful interlude led by Wild and Four. It felt much more real than himself. The sound wound its way into his ears and eased out a puff of air he hadn't realized he had been holding. 

It was startling, realizing that they were all mimicking what he had put into that note. Could it be that he was that obvious that he was pining? Four was the one who had made fun of him earlier. Yet here he was, weaving soft arpeggios of warmth and comfort. What was going on?

Wars poked him, jarring him from his reverie. “The Sailor’s trying to talk to you.”

Legend raised his eyebrows and shot a flat look the trombonist’s way. Really? the look said. In the middle of a performance?

There was a mischievous glint in Wind's eyes. “Solo battle?” he signed.

Legend almost laughed. Keyword: almost. “You mean a call-and-response duet?” he signed back.

“Whatever.” Wind rolled his eyes. “Are you in or not?”

Legend's eyebrows probably joined with his hairline then. “Isn't that in, like, three measures? Are you stupid?”

Wind flipped him off and stuck out his tongue. 

Oh, this twerp was going down. 

Fable jumped into action. Suddenly, the beat was moving at a relentless pace. The marimba perfectly channeled the devious smirk Wind carried. Legend found himself relishing the music again, tapping his foot along with Four's raw power. He bobbed his head in time with the vibrations he felt in his feet, most of which blasted from Time's guitar. He tossed the theme to Wars, who passed it to Four, who handed it to Wind, who promptly threw it to the floor and ground it into dust, laughing exhiliratedly. Normally, the rest of the band had to reel the dynamic in so the soloist could be heard, but most soloists weren't attention hogs like Wind. He would be heard, whether the audience liked it or not.

The Sailor moved with his solo. He tilted left and right, he stuck his slide into the air, and he bounced with each boom of the bass drum. Frankly, the drama of it all was rather obnoxious. It only charged Legend's eagerness to challenge him. There may be no winner in a solo battle, but he was determined to thoroughly beat Wind's ego into the dirt.

Legend waited for the perfect moment. He lifted his trumpet. He eyed the smug sailor out of the corner of his vision, a hint of warning in his posture. Secretly, though, he was excited to see the looks on the band's faces when he came in.

Now!

A visceral growl emitted from his instrument. Wind's head whipped around to face Legend, looking mildly offended. He barely restrained himself from snickering as the boy put a hand on his hip with an expression that looked hilariously reminiscent of Tetra's own pout.

As for the rest of the band… they were surprised, to say the least. Flabbergasted, as Ravio might've put it. Wind was given a fixed number of measures for his solos, and Legend cutting him off most definitely shook them. Four, the ever-reliable musician he was, was the first to regain his senses and improvise a good “backing track” for the others. Wars was ecstatic, and only Legend's lingering self-consciousness kept him from turning around and blasting in his ear. 

“I was just about- You interrupted me!” Wind pretended to look outraged, but frankly, he looked more like an indignant gerbil than anything else.

Legend shrugged. Wind puffed out his cheeks. It only encouraged the rodent illusion, which just added to the growing list of infinitely hilarious things that shouldn't be funny; what was he thinking? Goddesses, what was he doing? He shouldn't be stealing Wind's solo, he was going to make it worse, he was going to ruin it for the kid-

He stumbled. 

His blood had never drained so quickly from his face before. He scrambled to find a note that sounded right. Nothing sounded right! Why couldn't he do anything right? Why-

…Wind was covering for him. He covered up his mistakes by one-upping him, because that's how their solo battles went. Constantly improving on the last turn. Disguising his slip-ups by being better than him, all while pretending that was the plan all along.

Wars leaned over. He chuckled in amusement. “Are you going to just take that, Ledge? Gonna let him win?”

Legend snorted. “You wish this was your solo, pretty boy.”

He let the sailor have his little moment. Let him have his sly smirk and the roaring crowd, because while he practically owed the kid his kidney for saving him like that, it didn't mean he got to keep the spotlight. Even if it meant he had to strangle the butterflies in his stomach to keep them quiet, he would play.

Legend drew in a breath and blasted out the next note. Wind scoffed out a single “Dude!” but Legend overpowered that as well. He pouted again, and, to Legend's surprise, tried to play over him. Though, not really- he was harmonizing with him, forcing the dynamic up or down, and mixing his own energy in, one that Legend could not hope to synthesize. Not that he wanted to. It was a brattish energy, anyway. 

Four was getting louder. He was adding tension, and sending a message to the two of them: their time was coming to a close.

Wind heard it, loud and clear. He pushed against Legend’s melody. Part of him screamed at him to let him have control, to give him the finale, but his pride refused. He stood like a wall before Wind’s grabs at the spotlight. He had glissandos, grace notes, and pitch bends, but so did any half-decent trombone player. Not only could Legend do the same, he also knew exactly how to prod him where it hurt.

Let’s see how high you can go, sailor.

He blocked out the smithy’s warnings and began baiting Wind into a climb. He fell for it, hook line and sinker. B flat? Easy! C sharp? What a joke! He didn’t suspect a thing.

It was when they started to reach the higher portions of the scale that Legend detected some strain in Wind’s tone. He pushed higher. E. Running out of time, said Four. F, A flat. Wind didn’t follow. With a soaring sense of exhilaration, Legend landed the final high B flat. It was an easy victory, but a victory nonetheless.

At least, it was, until Wind hit an entire note higher.

Legend gawked at the cackling sailor. It was too late to make a comeback, the rest of the band had already moved on. Legend rolled his eyes. Just like him to get the last word. He had to laugh, though. Wind looked so proud of himself.

“Bet you aren’t thinking about your boyfriend now, huh?” he gloated.

Legend blinked. Had- Had that all been some grand scheme to get his confidence back? That rat! “I’ll think about wringing your neck!” he retorted angrily.

Unfortunately, he was right. Legend hardly felt any anxiety. Mental note: strangle him when we finish here.

It didn’t take long before the song was over and Wind was bowing theatrically. Legend was out of breath, dehydrated, and on the border of passing out, but he loved it. He felt alive again. He accepted Wars’ water bottle again. He practically emptied it, for how parched his lips were.

“Chapstick?” Wars offered, holding out a stick of his favorite brand.

Legend wrinkled his nose at it. “I’m not touching anything that has been anywhere near your lips.”

“What, like my water bottle?” Wars challenged lightly, waving the chapstick in his face.

“Fine. Gimme that,” he muttered, snatching the small tube from his brother’s fingers. He applied it as quickly as possible before shoving it back in its owner’s hands. He would never admit how useful it was, especially after so long arguing that it was for girls.

He only wished there was such a simple remedy for the ache that was beginning to form around his cheeks. That solo had really taken a toll on his embourchure.

Legend rubbed his face while Four walked by. The smith paused by him, his reddish-brown irises tinged by… guilt? Legend narrowed his eyes.

“That was a good solo back there,” he murmured. “You think you’ll be all right for this one?”

“I’m fine. Why do you care?” Legend responded tightly.

“Hey, look, I’m… I’m sorry. For teasing you.” Four winced. “I should’ve seen how badly it was affecting you. You’ll do great, okay? I mean, if I were Ravio, I’d be impressed regardless, but I know that’s not the reassurance you’re looking for.” 

Legend raised his eyebrows. An apology from the smithy? He knew it was bad, but not that bad.

…No, he shouldn’t make light of it, especially with how seriously Four was taking it. Or how seriously he took it, before the performance. That wasn’t fair.

“It’s not important,” Legend sighed. “I should be the one wishing you good luck. You’re singing.”

“Ha. So I take it we’re even now?” He held out his hand to shake. Legend took it, suppressing a smile.

“Thanks. Now, get lost, Sinatra,” Legend said.

Four chuckled and shook his head. He made his way to the piano just as Time finished up. Fable back on the sax and Wild on the drums, he raised his hand to cue the song.

He dropped it for the last time.

Wild tapped a smooth, bouncy beat on his hi-hat. Fable followed along, surprisingly mild for someone of her disposition. He’d never heard her handle the melody so… gently, before. Usually only Four had that kind of grace with the saxophone. Speaking of Four, the twinkling, playful piano notes complimented that laid-back style very nicely. Legend inserted his cup mute into his bell with a sort of contentment he hadn’t felt since Ravio left.

He had forgotten what it was like to actually enjoy music.

Four’s voice was glad to show him how much he had missed. If Wild and Fable were smooth, the smithy’s voice was like the outside of a fresh apple, ripe and shiny with morning dew. Warm, too, like pie crust.

Legend couldn’t wait to share another apple pie with Ravio.

“Well, here we are again

It’s always such a pleasure…”

Of course, this song wasn’t exactly meant to be cozy and reassuring. Legend was just getting restless.

Wind and Twilight, crescendo with a forte-piano.

An ebb and flow in Fable’s dynamic. Grow, pull back.

Wars counting rests under his breath. Legend felt an itch on the back of his neck. He was impatient, and his constant counting didn’t help.

“Oh, how we laughed and laughed!

Except I wasn't laughing…”

Legend could hear Four's smile. He loved this song. 

Soft falls muted by the cups in their trumpets. Mischievous, like a cat leaping nimbly from one bookshelf to the next. Or like the sailor, sneaking sweets from Legend's stash.

“You want your freedom, take it!

That's what I'm counting on!”

Wind crept into the lead, swaying from one note to the next gracefully. He treated the song like a waltz, but exaggerated comedically in its romance. Ravio swooning dramatically came to mind.

“I used to want you dead, but now I only want you gone!”

The whole band swung into action. Wild slammed on the snares, Fable sang into her sax with a dramatic volume worthy of Wind’s pride while the brass accented the offbeats, finishing with a flourishing trill.

The dynamic dropped. Four retained his eagerness, sounding just as smugly joyful as ever. The sax followed his lead.

“She was a lot like you-”

He chuckled. “Well, maybe not quite as heavy!”

That was Wind's favorite part. It took a considerable amount of effort not to snicker at the combined force of the lyric and the smithy's delivery.

Another band-wide crescendo, led by trumpets. Glittering piano notes followed, dancing daintily in Legend's ears. 

“One day they woke me up

So I could live forever

It's such a shame the same could never happen to you!”

Four's voice swelled brightly, leading the band from a mezzo-piano to a forte. Fable acted like this was her solo, announcing her counter melody to the whole audience. Wild mimicked the accents Wars and Legend made with a crash on the cymbals. He was having just as much fun as Four was. 

“I'll let you get right to it-

Now I only want you gone!”

The rest of the band dropped away, allowing the piano and the drums to lead as Four began his monologue. Legend bit his lip. His solo was just around the corner. He grabbed Wars’ water bottle again and stole a quick sip. 

At Four's “Take it away!”, his brothers took the lead. 

Legend hardly paid attention to the rise in energy. This was it. He promised Ravio a good show. After that trick Wind played on him back in the last song, he intended to follow through. 

Here!

He climbed into his solo. He imitated Four's languid ease with Wind's cocky eagerness to show off in the little slurs and tremolos he slipped into the solo. His heart pounded viciously against his chest. He went from note to note with little flourishes that were subtle but painted with just enough color to give it life. Thank Farore for Sky's bass, keeping him in time while his fingers itched to go faster than he had the ability to. But he kept it smooth and lilting as he repeated the melody of the chorus-

And just like that, it was over. His solo, finished. Audience clapping excitedly at the performance. Fable easing the band into a soft dynamic before dropping away completely. Before he knew it, Sky was playing his own solo while Four sang along:

“Goodbye my only friend…

Oh, ha, did you think I meant you?

This song really fit Four, Legend thought vaguely. Quick-witted, mischievous, and laid-back. Maybe  even a little arrogant. 

Had he really just done that? Had he really just pulled off that solo like it was just an everyday warm up scale, after all his anxiety just put him through? He snorted softly with incredulous indignance. 

It shouldn't have been that easy. But it was.

Wild's cue! Legend snapped dizzily back to attention. Neither he nor Wars were coming in any time soon, but he had to be ready. He listened in on Wars’ counting and quickly found his spot in the rest.

“Well, you have been replaced

I don't need anyone now…”

Again, Fable’s time to shine. Crescendo. Getting bigger, louder louder louder, play, support Fable, louder louder, howl out your part until you're faint from using too much air. Legend's lungs felt ready to burst, his lips burned. 

“Go make some new disaster!

That's what I'm countin’ on!”

He could do it. He could reach the end of the song. The light was at the end of the tunnel. The light was in his eyes, he had shifted too far to the left and now a spotlight was beaming directly into them, he kept playing.

“You're someone else's problem; now I only want you gone!”

Keep playing, it's almost done, just two more lines and he could see Ravio-

“Now I only want you gone!”

Ravio, had he seen the solo? Was he even here yet?

“Now I only want you gone!”

Focus, finish off strong.

“Now I only want you gone-!”

Four sustaining the note, steady, swing into the accent, hold hold hold, drop down low-

“I want you gone!”

With that, the band pulled back, Wars finished the song with a flaunting swing and grace note, Wild thumped his bass.

Done. Finished. Over. No more. He finished the song, and he hadn't messed up.

And the crowd went wild. 

Time bowed. He gestured to the soloists- him and Sky and Four. They dipped their heads, Four with significantly less humility. Legend licked his lips as he stared at his feet. He felt like he had just run a marathon.

A poke on his shoulder. Legend straightened his back. He followed Wars' outstretched finger, past Time's hand showing him off as a soloist, and- oh.

There he was. Standing in the middle of the audience, clapping his hands eagerly. His adoptive sister was beside him, but Legend's eyes never left the man for a second.

“Ravio,” he whispered.

He moved without thinking. He pushed his trumpet into his brother's hands. Wars gawked as he leaped off the stage and into the rows of chairs. Heart racing so quickly he feared it might escape, he ran up the aisle. 

There he was. Right there, grinning from ear to ear, calling out his name with a voice too soft to be heard over the crowd. Goddess d— him. That insufferable smile. It had no right to make him feel this way. So unfairly happy.

The rest was a blur. Ravio wrestled his way to the aisle, Legend only increased his breakneck pace; Ravio beamed, laughing his name, and they collided.

Ravio's arms squeezed him tight, twirling him around like the couples in those cheesy romance movies. Even as his feet planted on the ground, Legend didn't want to let go. He wanted to make sure this stupid rabbit never left his sight again.

Ravio pulled away, holding his face with the gentlest hands, grinning through teary eyes. “I take it you missed me, Mister Hero?” he chuckled.

By the Three, now he was crying. “Of course I missed you, you idiot!” he choked out.

“I missed you too,” Ravio breathed. 

He leaned forward and the last bit of Legend's restraint crumbled. His lips crashed against Ravio's before he could draw out the moment any longer, his hand reaching to tangle with his partner's smooth, inky locks. Ravio let out a tiny squeak of surprise before leaning into the kiss.

Legend's lips buzzed; he couldn't tell if the sensation came from his trumpet or Ravio. He couldn't care less. His mind was on Ravio's soft hands, on his tender touch, on the ghost of a smile he could feel through the kiss. 

Legend's heart had climbed up his throat by the time it was over. He noted vaguely that the audience was roaring and clapping, and that Fable's voice boomed over the speakers, hollering, “That's my brother!” Meanwhile, he couldn't decide whether to punch Ravio or let the tears flow. He swallowed hard, his eyes locking on Ravio's rupee-green ones.

“You kiss like you've been playing trumpet for an hour,” he teased.

Legend's face flushed red. “Shut up,” he grumbled.

“Aw, I didn't mean it,” he giggled, squishing him in another hug. “I just missed seeing your grumpy face.”

“You're the worst.”

“Don't get too sappy, you two.” Legend whipped around, greeted by Ravio's boss herself. Hilda, with a cocked eyebrow and folded arms, dressed in a blazer and skirt not unlike Fable's slightly more masculine suit. Her violet-painted lips twitched upwards in amusement. “You'll make the audience gag on their lunches.”

“I think I'm gagging on my lunch,” Legend complained.

Ravio gasped in mock offense, but Hilda shrugged. “Your sister does seem to be enjoying this…”

Legend glanced over at the stage and groaned. Of course she was. Of course she was hopping up and down in ecstasy, shaking poor, helpless Four back and forth while screaming with Wind. Of course she had to rope Sky and Wars into it- and was that Rulie cheering with them? Well, now Legend felt extra betrayed.

Warm fingers lacing with his drew his attention back to his partner. Ravio squeezed his hand and smiled. Legend had to wrestle his own into a disapproving scowl before he could see it.

“What do you say we put your trumpet away and go out for dinner?” he proposed. “That way we could get some time alone to relax and catch up some way other than over text?”

Legend folded his arms. “So, you expect me to forgive you, just like that? After being gone so long?”

Ravio laughed nervously. “If you wouldn't mind?”

“I suppose I can give you another chance,” he muttered. “And I'm paying. Yes, Hilda, I know you paid for everything back there.” He waved dismissively, then eyed Ravio out of the corner of his eye. “I'll let him hold on to his rupees just this once. Now excuse me while I go murder my sister.”

He dipped his head politely to the businesswoman before dashing off to the stage. He leaped up, much to Wind's delight and Time's resigned disappointment, and jabbed a finger at Fable. She squealed and hid behind Four, who sighed and stepped aside. 

“You!” Legend barked. “Get over here before I break your reeds!”

Fable gaped dramatically. “You wouldn't!”

“I will!”

“Whoa there, Ledge,” Wars said lightly. “Save the death threats for when the instruments are away, hm?”

Legend sniffed, swiping his trumpet from his hands and not-so-subtly emptying his spit valve on his foot. Wars yelped and jumped hilariously. “Legend!” he swore. “That's disgusting!”

“I bet it tastes like your lipstick,” he snarked.

Fable snickered. Legend brandished his trumpet threateningly and said, “What, you want some too?”

His sister screeched and ran off backstage. Legend made to pursue her, but Twilight gave him a look. He wrinkled his nose and dusted off his suit. She wasn't worth the trouble, anyway. 

He decided to make his way offstage to delicately take apart his instrument. He had a date to prepare for! Fable could wait.

Besides, he had plenty of time to daydream of revenge on the way out.

Legend grinned devilishly. She won't know what hit her.

He left the building whistling cheerfully.

----

A/N: Thank you for reading, but I do have to add a disclaimer. Please, please, please do not jump off a stage like Legend did. The last time someone did that at my school, they broke their ankle. I repeat, do not jump off a stage. 

Take care, all of you! ❤️

[icallhimjoey]

I LOVED IT SO DAMN MUCH! <3 thank you for feeding us! Now I’m hungry for more- honestly both of them are hopeless idiots

hungry for more, you say? well... (rewritten 19 nov 2023) Wordcount: 2.9K

Inevitable Sparks

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was undeniable now and it felt a little unfair to him. Almost a little, dared he say it, abandoning.

Pushed to the side, no longer important enough.

It had been sort of gradual, but the realisation hit Wesley like a tonne of bricks when he found he hadn't seen Joe in a month and you had.

And several times, too!

He'd been so annoyed by the two of you being too scared to talk to each other like normal people, like adults, but this seemed infinitely more annoying. Wesley couldn't believe it, but he kind of wished you'd stayed in that stage of texting him rather than each other a little longer.

The second he'd left the group chat he'd made for you, both you and Joe filled his phone in individual text-threads with an assortment of accusations and swearwords.

"WTF WTF WESLEY WTF"

"🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻"

"the biggest wanker i know"

"IDIOT"

"are you fckn serious rn?????"

"and then you just LEAVE?"

"wtf do i say now wes"

"you're such a dickhead 😒 you know that right"

"WTF DO I SAY?!"

Wesley followed up with the unthinkable, and texted each of you screenshots of the other's messages to him. You weren't aware he'd sent yours to Joe, and Joe wasn't aware he'd sent his to you, but at least then you both understood that you had the exact same reaction, and it should've calmed your nerves.

It absolutely hadn't, though, because what were you going to say now?

You'd stared at the empty chat screen of the group chat that now was just you and Joe for entirely too long until you saw that Joe was typing.

But then he'd stopped.

And then he'd started again, and Joe typed for nearly a minute, but no message appeared.

Eventually, you decided you were going to send the first message after reading Wesley's message a million times in which he called you both idiots.

"wesley's the idiot"

You decided that you could bond over your awful friend placing you in this awful spot. And it was perfect, because now Joe could just reply and the seal would be broken.

"hard agree"

And then you'd both taken a screenshot of that, and both individually sent it to Wesley without the other knowing, and it had made Wesley laugh out loud.

Sure.

If the two of you wanted him to be the idiot, he'd gladly fill those shoes for you.

"at least the photo's nice"

You sent it and immediately regretted pointing it out, far too nervous that Joe would take the comment the way you meant it.

"its blurry" Joe replied. "he's an idiot AND a bad photographer"

"we'll make him take a new one, preferably one where we know its being taken so he can get my good side"

"which side is your better one?"Joe didn't immediately go into a shpiel of you both your sides being your good sides like you'd expected. Wasn't that the predictable thing for a guy to say after you made a comment like that? Joe hadn't gone that route, though. It was refreshing and you loved it.

"idk probably the back"

"you're right, you do have a nice backside" Joe flirted.

Made you grin.

"yea? hard agree? 🙃" you flirted back.

"the hardest"

The first time you'd seen Wesley after that, you'd shown Wesley the conversations you and Joe had been having and he looked at it for a second before telling you that Joe'd already let him read all of it.

Oh.

Well, all right then.

You concluded then that perhaps Wesley had been right, and the both of you really were idiots. But it was okay. Was fine.

Wesley liked that you kept the group chat with the title and picture he'd set you up with, but said he didn't need to be kept up to date on absolutely everything the two of you spoke about.

What that didn't mean is that he'd be kept out of the loop entirely... except, that's exactly what you and Joe had done.

So you hadn't let Wesley know about the first time you'd met up for a coffee together and had Joe guess your coffee order which he'd gotten right on his fourth try. You'd pretended to be impressed, and Joe had smiled bashfully as he told you shut up, don't humour me.

You would humour Joe for the rest of his life if it was going to get him to smile like that, no problem.

Next, you hadn't let Wesley know that Joe had invited you over to his flat for lunch in between zoom meetings he had going on a random Saturday. You'd had so much fun that you forgot about the time and Joe had missed an entire interview he was meant to do.

And then after that, Joe hadn't let Wesley know that you sometimes called each other whilst getting ready for bed, just to talk about your day for a bit, and Joe would make sure to at least make you laugh a few times so that, even when you'd had a bad day, you at least got to go to sleep in somewhat of a better mood.

And then, Joe hadn't let Wesley know that he was off on a trip for work for the next couple of days, which Wesley didn't appreciate.

"Tomorrow? In the morning?" Wesley asked Joe over the phone.

"Yea, but I should have time tonight! I'm leaving... I don't even know the time I'm leaving, wait, let me check," Joe tried to open his schedule on his phone and accidentally hung up on Wesley as he did.

Wesley gave Joe a little time to ring back, but when he didn't, Wesley called him back and found the line was busy; Joe was on another call.

"Hey!" Joe could hear your smile through the phone.

"Hey," Joe bashfully replied, unable to hide his own smile from making its way into your ears.

"I've got a huge problem," you started, feigning alarm, but nothing about the way you said it sounded like you were being serious. "And I desperately need your help."

It was the cleverest thing you'd been able to come up with to coax Joe over into your flat again. He'd mentioned he'd be out of the country for a few days soon, and you had decided you wanted to see him once more before he left.

Just the two of you.

Without Wesley also there.

"You do?" Joe chuckled. "What is it?"

"I've just prepared far too much food, there's no way I can eat all of it by myself," you couldn't make it through the sentence without laughing. You were being such an idiot. Joe thought it was adorable.

"Did you? What did you make?"

"Shrimp. Scampi. I've got so much of it, it's honestly– it's a bit mad." your voice dripped with overdone concern.

"Oh no, shrimp overload?" Joe gasped dramatically, matching your tone.

"Shrimp overload." you confirmed, absolutely beaming.

You looked over at the bag of still frozen shrimp on your kitchen counter, and you knew if Joe was going to say he would come over to help you in this faux disaster, you'd have to start cooking them immediately to at least make this playful lie somewhat believable.

"Sounds like–" Joe audibly let a choked laugh escape through his teeth. "Sounds like a serious issue..."

"It really is, I could really use a hand in, let's say, about an hour?"

"Of course," Joe's voice was suddenly impossibly soft and sweet. "I'll be right over."

Made your neck flush.

"My hero," you said, and you both softly giggled before saying your goodbyes and hanging up.

That was when Joe saw he'd received a text from Wesley whilst he'd been talking to you.

"So. Tonight. Dinner?"

"Sorry mate I can't, something came up, I'll see you next week!"

When you buzzed Joe into your building, you left your front door ajar so Joe could make his way in himself whilst you gave your cooking its finishing touches.

"Hello?" Joe called into your flat when he entered, and before you could reply, you heard him take a deep breath after which he whispered "Delicious," on his exhale.

Your whole flat smelled of various herbs, mostly garlic though, and it had Joe's stomach instantly rumbling.

"Nearly done," you turned to see Joe walk in and grinned.

"Hi."

Joe looked like he'd just been milling around his flat all day; fluffy hair that could use a lick of product, comfortable loose-fitting clothing - none of it pulled together properly, but he looked nice anyway.

You panned down to see he'd taken his shoes off by the door and your heart fluttered a little because that meant that one, Joe cared enough not to walk filth into your house and two, he looked extra soft and comfortable now.

Joe was immediately hovering behind you to peer over your shoulder to see onto the cooktop.

"That is a lot of shrimp," Joe commented, "Good thing I came."

You could help but laugh, because looking at your pots and pans now, sure, it could feed a small family of four if they weren't that hungry, but this could also easily feed just the two of you without leaving any leftovers.

"Wait, stand still," Joe suddenly said, and you felt two hands on your lower back tug tenderly at your apron as you froze on the spot.

All of your attention was with Joe's touch now which made your heart somersault. Gave you goosebumps.

Joe untied the knot that was threateningly loose and used delicate touch to tie it again.

Tightly, this time.

You could feel how Joe was close to you, too close for what he was doing, his breath lightly fanning the back of your neck.

When Joe was done, he let his fingers linger and make their way over to the side of your hips, and you could hear Joe's breath hitch as you thought of all the things you wanted him to do to you.

There'd only been accidental touching of knees and hands with the two of you up until now, and all had resulted in blushes and shy smiles and you were done with them.

You wanted more.

Kind of wanted more right now.

"Joe?" you broke the silence after you'd both been standing there like that a little too long, Joe's hands softly touching your hips, and you imagined he'd been staring down at your bum.

Suddenly, Joe loudly cleared his throat.

"Yea?"

He let his hands softly tap your hips before moving them away from you.

"Um, anything I can do to help?"

Your attention shifted back to the food in front of you, and you quickly stirred whatever needed stirring.

"Yes, actually. Could you help set the table?" you pointed at a kitchen cabinet and let Joe get to work as you mentally pulled yourself together.

Steady breathing, you silently guided yourself.

Slow, steady, deep breaths.

Come on.

You could do this.

Except you couldn't. Because when Joe had set the table and you'd placed the pan of shrimp in the middle of it, you were about to take off your apron but learnt quickly that you couldn't.

"Oh, double knot, sorry," Joe said, already sat at the table, when he saw you struggle as you pulled on the fabric and he reached out an arm to help.

It made you grin because you knew this dork had done that on purpose. Didn't doubt it for a second.

You turned, and expected Joe to simply untie the apron for you, but instead, he pulled you closer with an unexpected yank, placing you in between his widely spread legs.

He untied you, far too slowly for it to be normal, tugging harshly and pulling you more into him as he did. When you felt the apron fall to your front, Joe pushed you forward a little by the small of your back and you heard him get up from his seat.

Instinctively, you turned around to face him and Joe's hands found the loop of the apron around your neck, helping you take it off completely.

When he'd raised it over your head, what you should've done was move away from each other, sit down, scoop some shrimp onto both your plates and have dinner together.

Instead, you both stood there, fixed in place, and you knew it was just an apron, but technically, Joe had just undressed you and it made you stop breathing for a second as your eyes found each other.

Joe let the apron drop from his hands onto the floor next to you as he reached an arm around your back, pulling you in closer to him. It startled you, and you leant black slightly, placing both your hands over his upper arms.

Joe got close, leaning forward, and his other hand found the back of your neck to guide your movements.

Yes.

This is what you wanted.

Fuck the food.

You could just eat each other.

You didn't even see what Joe was looking at, because you couldn't stop staring at his mouth.

Those lips.

The sheer look of them made you release a stuttered breath, and it was enough to make Joe dip his head down to meet your lips.

But then.

Just as you were about to let your lips touch in the most feverish of manners, your buzzer went.

Fuck.

It filled the room with a shrill harsh ringing noise, pulling you from your hazy bubble which instantly created space between the two of you. You both released breaths you'd been holding in, and you couldn't help but chuckle slightly as Joe loosened the grip he had on you to let you answer whoever was downstairs trying to get into the building.

"Yes?"

"Delivery." a crackly voice spoke through the old speaker and you were quick to buzz them up.

When you turned back to Joe, he had sat back down and grinned at you, letting a huff of air escape his nostrils in a sad laugh. You slumped your shoulders which sent the same message as you smiled back at him and knitted your eyebrows together.

The moment had been ruined and had now unfortunately floated away from you entirely.

"Get some food onto your plate, I'll be back in a second," you nodded at the pan of steaming shrimp before stepping into your hallway to get the door.

With Joe out of sight, you were able to gather your thoughts a second, and suddenly, you frowned.

Delivery?

You hadn't ordered anything, had you?

A rapid, melodic knock at your door startled you.

Oh no... it couldn't be?

A quick peek through your peephole confirmed your suspicions.

Fuck.

Wesley.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath before you carefully opened your door just enough to peek your head through.

"Hi," you spoke in a loud whisper, your eyes huge with shock.

"Wine delivery," Wesley said loudly, and used a flat hand to push your door open further before stepping around you, into your hallway.

"I've just brought one bottle though, do you have more? Because I'm definitely going to need more," he seemed annoyed and completely ignored what your facial expression was trying to tell him.

"Erm, Wes?" you kept the volume of your voice as low as you could manage it, moving yourself to stand in the middle of your hallway to block Wesley.

But Wesley moved to take off his shoes, ready to spend the evening on your sofa with good wine, good company, bad TV and enough time and space to freely complain about his best friend Joe.

"Did you cook? It smells good in–" words faltered him when he saw them. You followed Wesley's gaze and your eyes landed on Joe's beige wallabees, neatly placed next to the radiator.

Fuck.

Wesley didn't say anything, but looked at you a second with a blank face and then stepped around you to look into your living room.

He was met with the sight of Joe scooping shrimp onto your plate, ladle hovering as Joe'd frozen on the spot the second he'd heard Wesley's voice, feeling caught doing something he wasn't meant to be doing.

"Hey," Joe spoke awkwardly, stretching the word and letting it fade out in volume until the blanket of silence covered the room completely.

For a second Wesley just blinked at Joe, and then back at you until he realised the situation at hand.

"Something came up?" Wesley challenged Joe slightly, not overtly angry, more so startled by what he'd walked in on, but you definitely detected a little annoyance.

"Wes," you started.

"Something did," Joe plainly said, interrupting you as he gestured your way.

Wesley followed Joe's eyes and looked at you just a smidge too long, scanning your face to read your apologetic features before handing you the bottle of wine he'd been holding.

"Enjoy," he said, giving you both a tight polite smile that didn't reach his eyes before turning on his heel and walking out.

-----

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[garciaasfluffypen]

addiction

word count: 1.3k pairing: spencer reid x reader warnings: drug use (not explicitly written/described) 

a/n: sorry not sorry. this is also on my wattpad so if you feel like you’ve read it you probably have

spencer wasn't himself.

he was more jittery, sneaking off every now and then and it was getting on your nerves mainly because he wouldn't talk about it. so of course, in secret, you texted his boss to see if he had noticed anything different. hotch had told you that yes, he was acting different, and he feared that he was on drugs. after talking to hotch for a while, you decided to search his drawers.

was that a good idea? not in the slightest. were you doing it anyway? yes.

five minutes later you found the bottles of dilaudid in his drawer. you grabbed them and set them down on the kitchen table, opening your laptop and typing the name into google to read up on it. maybe this wasn't the reason he was off. maybe it was because he wasn't getting enough sleep or something mundane like that. you didn't want to think that spencer was taking drugs, but from what you had heard, tobias sent spencer down a dark path. it pained you to think about what spencer had gone through during those few days, and you didn't want to relive the pain you had gone through when garcia texted you that spencer was missing.

there was a click at the front door and you shut your computer, crossing and uncrossing your legs under the table as you tried to figure out how to start the conversation.

"y/n, i- what the fuck?!"

well, you thought, that's one way to start it.

"spencer, we need to talk."

"you went through my stuff!"

"i'm fucking concerned about you, of course i did!" you spat back, standing up and sending the chair flying across the wooden floor.

"you have no reason to be concerned about me."

your hands slammed down on the table. "yes i do! you're fucking on drugs, spencer."

it had been forever since you called him by his first name and only his first name. it sounded foreign coming from your lips.

"for the past four months you've been edgy, moody and all around not fun to be with. it's been a blessing when you're gone because i don't walk on eggshells when you're not here. but hotch sees it too. and so does the rest of the team, i'm presuming. you're fucking stupid, spencer. DRUGS? what on earth made you think doing an equivalent to morphine was okay?"

"you have no reason to be in my business-"

"yes i fucking do! i'm your girlfriend, spencer. i can be in your business all i want."

spencer ran a hand through his hair. "you could have at least asked me!"

"what, and have you dodge the question? tell me 'oh, i'm fine, i'm not on drugs!'  yeah, think again buddy."

spencer went to grab the vials off the table, but you were faster. you scooped them up from where they were sitting, turning around and throwing them against the wall and watching them break, the clear liquid sliding down the wallpaper as the glass shattered and fell to the floor. spencer ran over to where it had dropped, falling to his knees and slamming the floor with his fist.

"you have no idea what kind of damage you just did."

"hasn't this addiction done enough damage already?"

your voice turned quiet, your hands falling down just in front of your stomach as you played with them nervously. tears pricked at your eyes but you willed them back, telling yourself you were too strong to cry. you couldn't cry in front of him. not right now. not ever. and to be honest, you had gotten scared of him. scared of how his mood was going to be when he came home from a case, or how he was going to be when he woke up in the morning. it was always a game of "will he won't he", and you were fucking tired of it. and this was going to be the end of it.

"i almost left, while you were gone."

you swore you heard spencer choke back a sob.

"i uh- i was gonna go couch hop on my friend's couch for a while. i'm scared of you, spence. i am. before i found the-" you cut yourself off, not bearing to say the word out loud because that would make it real.

"y/n-"

"let me finish." you took in a breath. "i don't know which spencer i'm going to get anymore. and half the time, it's the mean spencer that scares me half to death. i don't sleep when you're here. i lay in bed, awake, waiting for you to do something you'd regret to me. i'm constantly on edge and i hate it. i hate this, i hate this apartment and fuck! i hate you so much!"

you fell to the floor, the tears you were trying to hide finally escaping. defeated, you curled in on yourself, almost mimicking the position spencer was in as his head poked up, staring at you with the first hint of concern you had seen in months.

"you need help, spencer. real help. i'm working with hotch to find a rehab group for you. but i need to know how much more of that is in the apartment."

"y/n-"

"i'm being serious."

"i'm not- i don't have any more."

"how much more is there, spencer?"

the silence in the room was tense, your voice cutting through the air like a knife in bread. it was at this moment, spencer knew he had fucked up. and it showed. his face fell, as if he were defeated, and he slumped down into a ball like shape as he fought with himself about telling you or not. you'd find it either way, you had quite a talent at finding things that were hidden. just like you found those three little bottles in his bedside table.

the three bottles that had almost broken your relationship.

"in my satchel."

his voice was high pitched, almost as if he were fighting back tears, much like you were moments ago. he slid the satchel to you, both of you staring at it as it sat on the floor.

"front left pocket, just under the flap."

"is that it?"

"yes."

you took the bottles from the pocket, counting another four. before you could even tell him to move, spencer rolled out of the way so you could throw them at the wall, destroying the vials for good. the two of you sat there, in the silence, contemplating what to do next.

"we should get that cleaned up."

spencer could only nod as he made his way to the bathroom, coming out moments later with a dustpan and broom. you went to the kitchen to get some paper towels, pausing with your back facing him. another moment of silence passed, the two of you standing on practically other sides of the apartment. the two of you cleaned in silence, both of you trying to find the right words to say but failing each time.

"i'm gonna go sleep at molly's for a while, just until you're okay enough. hotch is getting you set up with a rehab program, and he'll watch you while you're in it."

that was when spencer finally noticed the suitcase by the door, packed and ready to go.

"i'm doing this out of love, you know."

"i know." spencer's voice turned quiet this time. "'m sorry."

"its okay. i know you went through a lot."

"i shouldn't have put you through that-"

"you didn't know you were."

you shot him a sad smile, slipping on your shoes and grabbing the handle of your suitcase.

"i love you."

you could only stare at spencer's grief stricken face as he watched you leave, not even saying goodbye.

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 13

Alpha!Damiano Omegaverse

Read chapters 1-12 on my Masterlist!

TW: Contains r-word. Text will be in red.

The rest of the school had Friday off, but not the clubs and teams. Today was competition day and the transport van picked you up at 8:15 am. The yellow and blue uniform was sexless, a pair of loose trousers and a t-shirt. It was still chilly in the mornings, so you wore a long sleeve under it.

“You know, we won’t have a lot of time to do makeup when we get there.” commented Rosemary, as you climbed inside. 

“I’m not wearing makeup,” you scoff. If any extracurricular wasn’t going to be part beauty pageant, it should be aerospace engineering. 

“Oh…Well, everyone else will because they’ll be taping it.” Rosemary’s unfiltered honesty wasn’t unlike Thalia’s.

“What?” you exclaim in horror.

“Taping, not broadcasting,” clarifies Mx. Varela. “It's standard procedure to prevent cheating.”

“Oh, okay,” you sigh, senses still heightened. “So will there be photographers there?”

“Yes,” answers, an annoyed voice from behind you. 11th grader and alpha Bremen who was on the competitive team last year and this year was an alternate. Phrases such as “diversity hire” hang over your head like a dark cloud. The demographic specifications to qualify became progressively more intricate as extracurriculars sought to be more inclusive and fair. 

It started as “Each team must have four competitive members and two alternates to participate in events.” Naturally, the entire team was comprised of seniors. 

So things evolved to “Each team must have four (4) competitors and two (2) alternates, with each grade represented via at least one (1) team member, in order to participate in events.” Every competitive team that year was exclusively 11th and 12th years. It was a stupid oversight with an addendum drafted before the season was over. “The competitive team must include lowerclassmen.”

And that was all fine and good. For nearly a decade, the academic regulations of beta exclusive societies were identical to those with alphas and omegas. But last year something changed, a departure from B.E. societal standards. There was a controversial, new addendum, passed by no more than two votes.

“In applicable districts, alphas, betas, and omegas must all be represented for a team to qualify.”

So you had to prove yourself, and learned that genius is largely a self-perpetuating cycle. Bremen was so confident in his intelligence that he’d convinced other people too. At first, it seemed like he was just getting his ego stroked, because everyone agreed that he was one One of the Smart Ones. But then you’d watched him correctly solve a problem at grade level, throw down his pencil in victory, and sit back with a gratified smirk. “Oh course, Bremen's already done!” “I’d expect nothing less from a math whiz.” “Don’t you ever lose that edge, it's gonna serve you well.” 

After the circle jerk was over, you looked to Mx. Varela. They had a weary, take-no-shit expression on, probably the only other person in the room that realized Bremen could burp and the masses would attribute it to his shining IQ.  

“Refocus, please.” Mx. Varela looked to where you sat on the other side of the room, sneakily doing your engineering homework because you’d finished the worksheet. Your heart stopped at getting caught. It’s not like you wouldn’t do your homework in other classes as well, but this was a special case. The instructor was doing you a favor by offering five hours a week worth of credit for three hours worth of work.

“You realize you’re gonna have to speak to the rest of the team?” Mx. Varela snatches the paper off the table and checks your work with a raised eyebrow. They flip to the back side, then quickly to the front side once more.

“This is all correct. Did you do all this on your own?” The hidden accusation catches you off guard.

“I don’t need to cheat on 11th grade math! It’s literally what we’re learning right now with some basic reasoning.”

“Basic reasoning?” Your instructor is smiling in a way that reveals you’ve just screwed yourself. “You’re bored because you’ve got one of those minds that reads math instead of solving it.”

“I…guess. It feels like making inferences.” At this point Bremen and two other team members are staring. Mx. Varela holds up your finished assignment.

“If you want an answer key, just use this. We’ll move to more advanced practice now.” You hide a laugh behind your hand. The three sets of eyes boring into your profile kept the moment from feeling like victory.

Bremen had decided how he felt about you the second he realized your status. Fortunately, the other team members came to respect your intelligence in the last two weeks. Being liked is another goal entirely, and Mx Varela hadn’t set you up for success by calling your paper the answer sheet. Alpha friendships didn’t make you envious, because they were unachievable. However, seeing the easy comradery between the betas and alphas felt like standing on the other side of a glass wall. Ever the watcher, never the participant.

“Okay, a reminder,” Mx. Valera turns around from the passenger seat to address six grumpy teenagers.

“Y/n’s the only one that needs reminders,” murmurs Bremen.

“What the hell have I done to you?” you finally snap.

“Y/n, team, none of that. We go in as one unit, we succeed as one unit.” Your face burns and it feels like everyone inside the van stares at you. It's a small, stuffy space and there's no way to hide from view.

“Remember these are just the benchmark rounds. Today it's 280 points, so focus on meeting that score, and we’ll be good.”

“Basically impossible,” Sebastian murmurs. Mx. Valera sighs and takes a beat. 

“Focusing on meeting benchmark scores rather than winning will not only guarantee us a place, but it’ll leave us much better prepared for more challenging competitions.” The resentment from that moment of injustice sat in your gut like a hot coal. Blood rushed in your ears, making it difficult to hear. You step out of the van with tunnel vision, being the first to stand in front of the Romero Public High flag. Next time you’ll wear Dami’s scarf. 

“Want me to do your makeup?” offers Sommer, a 12th year alpha. 

“Sure,” you respond, with a forced smile. It was an act of friendship, comradery between competing team members. You had no interest in being visually appealing to other alphas. However it seemed that everyone was made-up, and being the odd man out didn’t help your nerves nor your approachability. 

“I didn’t know about all the politics when I joined. I was just trying to get the Aerospace 101 credit.” Sommor scoffs.

“The stuff we do is so much more advanced. Look down.” She applies something to your eyelid. The garish carpet pattern is a real eyesore.

“So when did you find out you were the affirmative action hire?” Sommer intends it to be more humorous than malicious, so you decide to laugh. 

“Rosemary explained it to me.” 

“It’s cool that you get Rose, because most of us don’t. She’s super smart though and that's what matters.” Something inside you twists. This supposed bonding moment felt treacherous to your only sort-of friend on the team. The whole interaction, Sommer’s monotone voice and flawless makeup, lacked a regard for anything but her own amusement. So badly you want to speak up and demand an ounce of authenticity, but you stay silent as she applies mascara. 

“Look up.” Behind her, other teams filed into the arena in their brightly colored uniforms. “I’ve never marked anybody, but you must miss him. Damiano, right?” 

“I’m fine on my own,” you shrug. It wasn’t a lie. Marked or not, you were happy to do things in the peace of your own company without Dami. However, in this particular moment, having someone that made you feel understood would be a great relief. If the event hadn’t been closed to the public, Dami would be sitting directly across the room, so whenever you looked up, he was in your line of sight.

“All non-essential personnel, please exit the arena. Competitive team members only.” As instructors herded the alternates out of the arena, a pattern became very apparent. Every single set of alternates contained an omega. A quick glance at the online rosters confirmed what you already knew: you were the only omega competing in the six teams. 

Mx. Valera’s hand on your shoulder makes you jump several inches in the air. Some administrator is ordering them to go to the viewing room with everyone else. All the anxious voices blend together, but you get the jist.

“I had no idea that my colleagues would conduct themselves with such overt bias. I am sorry, y/n. It will be addressed.” This is where someone substitutes in on your behalf, so the stupid little omega can go be quiet in a corner with her brethren. Except no one does. There are just announcements upon announcements while you scan the arena for a single person like you. A judge, an administrator, the guy who hands out extra pencils, but you are the only omega in this giant room, which is suddenly a dangerous place to be.  

 “This can’t be happening,” you murmur. “Regulations, they wouldn’t…” The real trouble comes when the alphas realize you’re the only omega in the room. Hair up to show your mark is the first thing to do. It had just begun to scar. You rub the uneven skin just beside your scent gland.

“Y/n, hey –” Sommer snaps her fingers in front of your face and you bat her hand away without thinking. There's no telling who’s more surprised at your act of defensiveness. Rosemary points to the sheet in front of you. It’s the first prompt of the day. When you look back up to get your bearings, she puts a calculator in your hands. This, at least, you can do on autopilot, but it's hard to focus with your skin crawling.

Everytime you look up there's twice as many alphas staring as you’d anticipated. At first they’re just curious, then interested. They talk to each other in low tones, making sure that they’re not the only ones seeing this single, lone omega. The hum of their voices makes you clamp your hands over your ears. Rosemary has to pry them away and put a pencil in your hand, gesturing to the equations they’d come up with. 

“God, she’s so slow today,” complains Sommer. You force yourself not to check, but possibility becomes the most terrifying of all. If you don’t look up now, how close could an alpha get before you finally do scan the surroundings? With such a crowded room, the answer is right on top of you. The answer is with its teeth to your neck.

 The other three talk, but you just operate as a human calculator, solving whatever Rosemary hands your way. You remind yourself that your pheromones aren’t enticing to most of, if not all these alphas. You’re marked, but that matters significantly less as the only omega in sight. There isn’t a better option.

“Y/n? Y/n, these numbers are too big. It doesn’t make sense.” You’re going back over your work when a buzzer goes off.

“Pencils down, an administrator will come by to collect your work.”

“But I’m not done.” Even Rosemary’s gaze holds animosity. Sommer arranges the papers in the folder refusing to speak to or even look at you.

“Did you finish?” Mx. Valera asks. The silence is enough of an answer.

“Well that's fine, only half the teams finished.”

“So we’re in the bottom 50%? Y/n, what the fuck was that? Were you having a seizure?” You’d like to deliver a searing retort to put Sommer in her place, but the words get stuck as she intimidates you.

“Sommer, stop. How far did you get? I couldn’t see at the very end.” You wait for someone to answer, looking at Rosemary when the team remains silent. “Y/n?”

“Yes?” You’re backed up against the desk, trying to achieve some personal space, but everyone seems to be looming. “Where are the alternates?”

“How far did you get?”

“If I had like 30 seconds, I could’ve fixed the mistake. I'm sorry, I was just…”

“So to the very end?” There's hope in Mx. Valera’s eyes, but it doesn’t make you feel better. Even as a couple omega alternates scurry over to the bathroom, all eyes are on you. Figuring this is the safest time to break away from the group, you mutter an “excuse me” and grab your bag before heading towards the bathroom. Being the object of everyone’s attention is never a good feeling, but right now in particular, it makes your eyes and skin burn. An alpha shoulder checks you as he brushes by then laughs as you scramble not to eat shit on the cheaply carpeted floor. The message was clear: you are not supposed to be here. 

I want my mommy is your first thought. Your second is no, I want my alpha. There was a district wide soccer tournament starting this evening, but Romero wasn’t playing until Sunday. That would make this weekend the first time Damiano had two days off in god knows how long. He did best with an occupied mind, but everyone needs rest, especially after such a rough patch. You’d be denying him that.

Of course, your mind goes exactly where he’d want it to. Dami in your kitchen four days ago, cooking some heavenly chicken dish. Where most alphas would simply say “make sure you eat a good meal and go to bed early. My omega’s health is important to me.” He asked nothing of you, cooking dinner and rubbing your back until you fell asleep at 8pm.

“I want you to know that you don’t need to be frightened, love. Things seemed pretty dire for a sec, but I’m doing so much better. I need you to know that I’m okay. I feel steady, so you can lean on me.” At the time, you were literally laying on his chest, not just hearing his words but sensing the vibration under his sternum as well. “I’m okay,” he repeats. “I’m okay.” And he was. 

The tears on your cheeks evidenced how much you needed to hear those words out loud, because it took years for Thalia to be okay. Clio had yet to get there. You’d been bracing yourself, subconsciously. Damiano grasped both clenched fists, tendons straining, nails creating crescent shaped bruises as they dug into the meat of your hand. He unfurled them, kissing your palms, coaxing you to relax with the knowledge that he no longer needed a safety net. He was not a fall risk.

***

“Hey, baby,” he croaks. “Everything okay?” Fuck. Calling him was a horrible idea. You’re already wiping away tears. The warmth in his tone is such a stark contrast to the rest of this morning. 

“Y/n? What’s going on?” You’d woken him up on essentially a weekend, when most weekends he had to get up early too. And what now? Damiano wasn’t allowed inside, no matter how hard you wished the rules to be otherwise. Piling guilt on to the rest of your emotional baggage was about to be the final straw.

“You’re scaring me. Say something.”

“Something,” you manage, in a shaky tone. Damiano had seen you cry in the past year more than anyone, but not these kinds of tears. He clears his throat and you can hear the rustle of bedsheets as he sits up.

“Okay, I’m awake. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“This stupid fucking competition,” you sigh heavily, then choke. It's not quite a sob.

“Right, okay. How closed to the public is it? Like is there security?” He’s not joking, but you still laugh. 

“Um…could you pick me up? It supposed to be over at 10 but the next round is uh…” you search for a clock or a directory, “Fuck I don’t remember. I feel like it's gonna be done way before then.” 

“And it's the conference hall right by LHS?” You purposely bang your forehead on the wall.

“Fuck, your old school is gonna be here.” Maybe that's why they were staring. “How much do I smell like you?” 

“Uh…enough? It's recognizable.”   

“Okay, good,” you say with a sigh. Staring because you were Dami’s mate was something you could live with.

“They’re giving you a hard time.”

“I’m a zoo animal.” A five minute warning is announced and the panic tightens in your chest. “Time to go jump through some fiery hoops.”

“I’ll brush my teeth and leave. I’ll be there whenever you’re done, kitten.” You roll your eyes at the nickname. It had started out cute but now only one of you found it cute (it was Dami).

“Do your hair and stuff too, if you want.” Being seen by people from Laurel High, his old school, was going to be tough.

“I thought you liked the man bun!” 

“I love the man bun, but I know looking your best –”

“Makes it easier to jump through fiery hoops?”    

“Exactly.” A two minute warning sounds. “Okay I have to go, I love you.”

“I love you too. Go be a rocket scientist!” You steel yourself before walking back to the podium. Purposefully, you veer by Laurel High School. When they stare you bite back like you’ve wanted to all day.

“Do I know you?” 

“Jesus christ,” Bremen murmurs as he walks past you, He shakes his head in distaste, commiserating with the Laurel High competitors through mutual eye rolling and scoffs at your behavior. What an annoying, upetty omega. He would side with your competitors before having an ounce of respect.

“Have fun watching me compete,” you sneer.  

“You know, you think that people don’t like you because you’re an omega. Actually, people don’t like you because you’re a bitch.” It's so hateful that you’re caught off guard. LHS “ooh” and “ah” at your expense. After all, there's no better entertainment than watching an omega be put in their place. Sommer grabs you by your arm and hauls you over to the Romero flag.

“Ignore them. I like the fact that you’re a bitch.” But I don’t want to be a bitch at all. Was that the only option if you stood up for yourself? Of course you also acted on the offensive and what else did that make you if not bitch? Did Damiano think of you as a bitch, in the pseudo-affectionate way Sommer did? That thought felt the same as guilt, a tear-wrenching, yanking sensation from inside your ribcage. What a swell time to have a personality crisis. 

Mx. Valera comes to wish you luck before the second prompt is handed out. They’re pissed on your behalf, which is a nice sentiment, but doesn't solve anything in the here and now. The best strategy is to stay with the team, because at least Rosemary won’t let an pissed off alpha corner you. In that case, all you could hope for is that taunts don’t become retribution for merely existing in their space.

“Why do we leave at 10 if the competition is gonna finish at like 9:40?” 

“It’s so all the teams can meet. We call it Nerd Conference,” Rosemary explains, as the papers are handed out, face down. 

“You call it Nerd Conference,” mumbles a usually silent Sebastian, the forth team member. Thank god you’d called Damiano. Maybe the omegas would be treated like real team members,  but more likely they’d be huddled in a corner while the betas and alphas enjoyed some comradery. If a team placed poorly, their alphas would want to take it out on something, and that something would be you.

“Begin.” They’re staring at me because I smell like Dami. They’re staring at me because they recognize his pheromones. These are the phrases you kept chanting to reduce the compulsion to look up every five seconds. At first it worked, but then fear won over and you have to focus everything on keeping the numbers straight. Mathematically, it was a surprisingly difficult problem for so early in the competition. Doable, but you needed a second sheet of paper.

“At least two of the teams are stuck,” narrated Rosemary as you handed the calculations to Sommer. While implementing the numbers, you checked your work over her shoulder. Something raises the hair on the back of your neck and makes you whip around. It’s just an administrator, doing his rounds to prevent cheating, but your heart rate still goes sky high. It dawns on you that there is no way to avoid being followed out of the building. All you can do is get to Damiano, or rather get in his line of sight. The AD2 part of him would welcome a challenge.

“How long until this is over?” You keep looking at the doors, convincing yourself he is on the other side and all you have to do is calculate the fucking trajectory of the capsule release to get to him. 

“Six minutes and 49 seconds,” answers Rosemary. “Here.” As she passes the paper back, you become aware that the timer is the only thing keeping these alphas at their station. When it goes off,  they’ll be free to roam, and temporarily, you’ll be the only omega in sight. One versus 35 alphas and betas that think you don’t belong here. 

“Any teams still stuck?”

“Yes.”

“Is Laurel High one of them?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Damn it.”

“Are you stuck?”

“No,” you shove the calculations across the desk. You should be done with your part of the prompt, and now there's nothing to occupy your mind except feeling like prey. LHS is watching you with self-satisfied smirks, convinced you’ll fail again. Other alphas are curious how you’re holding up, and each so clearly took pleasure in watching you squirm. The question becomes how many of them are marked or mated, which is what you’re trying to discern when Rosemary announces the team is finished. There's 17.9 seconds on the clock and you all huddle, checking each of your calculations.

“The numbers make sense,” Sommer breathes in a sigh of relief. 

“So can I go?” She snatches your wrist and holds it forcefully. 

“Wait or we’ll get disqualified,” she orders, using her alpha temperament to force compliance. You stare at the carpet until the timer buzzes.

“Now can I go?”

“Go where? They haven’t scored us yet.” The other teams have relaxed, some people even checking their phones after stepping away from the desk. 

 “Bye.” When Sommer doesn’t stop you, it's clear that the actual competition is over. You’ll skip the feeding frenzy and make minimal eye contact while heading to the exit.

“Nice job omega!” It's unclear whether the words are genuine, but the tone is certainly condescending. Someone laughs and your face heats up. You looked like a child in comparison to all the other competitors. Plain faced and anxious, you were the one cropped out of photographs. Or worse, included so the publication didn’t get attacked by Equalitarians. 

In the lobby, are parents of children who lived more locally, early to pick up. Damiano is in the parking lot, if he’s here yet, so you keep your eyes on the window next to the exit. If you can make it out that door, you’ll be free. You’re so focused that Damiano has to physically step in your path to gain your attention. His concern is thinly veiled as he takes your backpack, so beautiful you can’t believe he’s yours. Dami would know to get done up, he wouldn’t have made this mistake. Maybe that's why they were staring. Clearly, he’d marked you, but how had someone so average looking managed that? 

“Baby, c’mere,” he whispered. You’d just stood there pathetically, arms limp at your sides until Damiano’s beauty brought you to tears. Even as he hugged you, you were frozen.

“I think it’s incredibly brave, what you’re doing,” compliments an omegan father next to you.

“Uh, thanks.” You wipe the tears on your sleeves and notice all the black smudges from forgotten mascara. “Oh fuck, do I look like a racoon?” 

“No,” Dami answers in a hushed voice with a tight smile. His eyes keep darting to just below the right side of your face. He says the perfect pleasantry with the perfect gesture and steers you out of the door. The cold morning air is refreshing and a bit painful on your wet cheeks. You can’t help but compulsively check behind you every couple seconds.

“Don’t worry about being followed. I’m here now.” Damiano’s hand finds yours on the way to the car. You’d expected a barrage of questions about your well being, but he was contemplative, probably struggling to calibrate his reaction.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Don't apologize. I’m glad you did.” He squeezes your hand and falls silent again. He wasn’t angry, but there was something plaguing him.

“Are you okay?” Damiano stops walking and winces with his eyes squeezed closed.

“Am I okay?” he repeats under his breath, shaking his head. “I should have been the first one to ask that.”

“I’ll be fine as soon as we get out of here.” Behind you is the repeated click of the door opening as people filter out.

“Y/n! Y/n!” Sommer’s hurried footsteps come up from behind. You steel yourself to face her, but end up looking at Dami’s back as he steps in front.

“Jesus fucking christ Dam, I’m not gonna hurt her. We’re on the same team!” You wrap an arm around Dami and lean into his side. You didn’t need to puff out your chest and prove to everyone that you were strong despite being an omega. He was your strength.

“We’re about to leave Sommer.” She rolls her eyes, breathless from excitement.

“I just wanted to say that you don’t need to be sad about messing up or whatever because we broke 300! We got second place.” Damiano smiles with pride, jostling you so you’d take a moment to celebrate.

“I wasn’t upset because of the score. It’s a science club and they still treat omegas like they’re inferior. Nobody wanted me there!” The smile falls from Damiano’s face as you turn to him. “Can we just go?” He nods, unlocking his car and leaning over to put your bag in the backseat. While he’s doing so, Bremen rushes out of the building, scanning the parking lot for someone.

“Valera is looking for you,” he yells.

“Bremen, I already said I’d find her, go be obsessed with someone else.” He bristles.

“Whatever. An administrator told me to find her. I guess they’re worried that if y/n crosses the street without someone holding her hand she’ll forget to look both ways and get hit by a car,” he laughs. Apparently his view of Damiano was blocked. You put a hand on your alpha’s back so he doesn’t react right away. Sommor looks at you and Dami, then back at Bremen with wide eyes.

“Can you just shut up for once,” she prompts, gesturing at him to stop talking. Bremen’s easily wounded ego is hurt by Sommor siding with someone else. If only he knew she was trying to help him.

“You’re the one who came up with the diversity hire jokes! She solves one problem correctly –”

“‘Diversity hire?’” Damiano growls, straightening up. Sommer shrinks back and Bremen looks cornered. Two alphas against one should have an obvious outcome, but Dami is stronger than them and he’s also really fucking scary when he wants to be.

“It really makes you that insecure that she’s more intelligent than you.”

“She’s not –” Bremen starts, then promptly closes his mouth.

“She’s not what?” Dami stalks towards him like a lion hunting antelope. Taking a step back would be admitting subservience. Bremen hasn’t caved in yet, but it's a matter of seconds.  

“You think her safety is a joke. I take her safety very seriously,” he snarls. “If you ever were to compromise –”

“I would never,” Bremen shakes his head, taking two steps backwards.

“I know, because I know what a jealous alpha looks like.” He glances at Sommor for confirmation and she nods her head. 

“Brem, you – he wanted to make the new omega on the team his mate.” Damiano hums, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“It’s pathetic that you’re taking it out on her.” Pathetic was a pretty brutal insult from one alpha to another. “If you have an issue with the fact that she belongs to someone, you’re gonna take it up with me.” He’s almost whispering. “Do you have an issue with the fact that I chose her to be my omega?”  

“No,” Bremen whispers, shaking his head.

“Do you take issue with me marking her?”

“No.” 

“And when I make her my mate, will that be a problem?” 

“No.” Damiano turns on heel, and walks back to you. His face is still contorted with anger. What you don’t expect is his fingers along your neckline. He pulls the necklaces you still put on every morning out of your shirt.

“Do you see these? They’re mine and I knew she’d be wearing them because she wears them everyday, even though I’ve never asked her to. Do you understand? You are nothing to her,” he spits. Damiano opens your door and you sit down, shell shocked by the turn of events for several minutes.

“Uh, sorry.” Dami looks sheepish and his hand is hesitant as it takes yours. “My territorialism…I could have handled that better.” You shake your head, bringing his palm to your cheek. He takes it back only to turn off the highway and into a residential area.

“That's my childhood home.” He points to a one story brown house that sits up against the woods. “The people that live there now have like a dozen cats. We moved when I was 11 and again when I was 15.”

“Big backyard,” you guess.

“Exactly,” he smiles. “And this is Blue Creek Park. It's a little nature preserve, but people outside the neighborhood don’t come here because it’s on the other side of the freeway.” The gravel crunches below the tires as Dami pulls into a small parking lot of only five spaces. “Sandro and I did a few legally questionable things here as kids.” He parks the car and turns towards you. The keys jingle as Damiano drops them in an empty cup holder. Isabella had color-coded them some time ago. The brightly colored rubber borders were dirty.

“Y/n, why were you crying?” You keep looking at the cupholders. Dami puts a finger under your chin and raises your gaze to his. Keeping your shit together was hard with all that affection and empathy directed your way.

“Why did that man say you were brave?”

“It’s stupid, I don’t want to talk about it.” You look back down. A drop from your last latte had fallen, staining the tan-colored hard plastic.

“Well, you’d never let me get away with that.”

“Not wanting to talk about something?”

“Yeah, you always make me face it, even if I don’t want to.”

“Sounds like I’m a pretty shitty girlfriend,” you mutter and curl into a ball in the passenger seat. Damiano is coming to recognize this body language as overwhelmed to the point of defensiveness.

“What? No, that wasn’t the implication, kitten.” God damn it.

“Don’t call me that.”

“We’re not leaving until you tell me why you called me crying because you’ve never done that before.”

“And maybe I’ll never do it again!” Damiano’s leg starts bouncing. He probably knows they’re just words, but the prospect of not being allowed to protect you is anxiety-inducing. Threatening him, this whole interaction was miles away from the point.

“Ugh!” You get out of the car with your arms crossed. 

“A walk in the crisp spring morning, what a pleasant idea,” he exclaims, locking the car.

“I’m not mad at you and I don’t want you to think that I am because you’re the only person that doesn’t suck, except you do kinda suck for forcing the issue,” you announce in exasperation. Damiano nods, taking a second to process your words.

“Let me show you my favorite place to blow up illegal fireworks when I was 13.”

“Does it bother you that I’m equally as close to being 13 as I am to being your age?”

“Ooh, ouch,” he cringes. “Still not distracted though. Also put on your coat.” He holds the garment up for you and zips it. The gesture is so tender your eyes water.

“Show me the scene of the crime.” You take his hand in yours, and that satisfied Dami for now. Meanwhile, you’re spiraling. Bringing up the age difference could never be just a joke to him. And what had he done to deserve that? Wake up three hours early, rush across the city, and defend you despite just getting cleared by the collegiate board. Then he’d shown you a piece of his personal history and you’d acted just as immature as opponents of this relationship predicted you would. Either in whispered voices and furtive glances or gossiped in private spaces. If the competition’s alphas had witnessed this behavior, their value judgments would be completely just.

“I’m sure all the moss has grown back now, but…” He leads you around the backside of a two story rock face. In a clearing is a pathetic little fire pit.

“You know that joke about the omega who makes a nest they’re really proud of, but to their alpha it’s just a pile of blankets. The alpha can see how important it is and compliments them, pretending to be impressed anyway?” 

“Yeah?” You take a long look at the scorched mark on the ground and then at Dami.

“Dear, I think this is a very nice pile of blankets.” He bursts out laughing, the wonderful, crowing, grinning wide laugh that fills up a whole room.

“Okay, okay, fair enough,” he pants, leading you up the incline. Twice Damiano has to pause to bend over and cackle. By the time you take a seat on a flat spot at the top, the sharp clawed insecurity is almost forgotten. He looks around the park from this high point in silence. No, Dami hadn’t always been easy, but he loved you the way you’d secretly hoped to be loved. In your whole life, he was the only one that made you the priority and he did it without asking. Never did you ache for more attention or validation. It was remarkable to be at the center of such an exquisite universe.

“I think I’ve always loved you without knowing it,” you murmur. Damiano’s big, soulful eyes fixate on you. It’s a rarity to see him stunned.

“Like, before we met I must’ve…I don’t know.” You search the branches for a bird’s nest and, and move along before things get emotional. “We should just go home and sleep until lunch.”

“I…You said the competition acted like omegas were inferior. They treated you like you were stupid, they must have been horrible.” His voice is buckling with emotion.

“They didn’t treat me like I was stupid, exactly. I just felt so othered and fucking terrified. I’m never doing that again. Mx. Valera might be in the right, but it doesn’t matter if no ones on their side.” Finally, your voice breaks. “I was so scared. I was so, so scared and they enjoyed it. I was suffering and all these alphas loved it, relished it,” you cry against the rough fabric of Dami’s jacket. “They were waiting for me to fuck up and guess what? I did! I proved all of them right!”

“You didn’t prove them right. Each team had at least one omega, so clearly there is just as much variation in the intellect of –”

“No they didn’t!” You force the words out. “I was the only one in all six teams and I spent the whole first round so terrified that one of them was gonna lunge at me that I could barely think. Thats why I fucked up!”

“Woah, woah, wait. Y/n, my love, what – that's not –” He tries to get a view of your face and you permit it, flushed cheeks cupped in his hands. “Teams aren’t allowed to compete without an omega. I know, I looked, I –” Damiano and probably Isabella had found the rule book online, then combed through it to confirm that the event was safe. He was truly your guardian angel. 

“They were all alternates. Only competitors are allowed in the arena so I…” The whole moment was too revealing and you curl into a ball again, this time with your head in Damiano’s lap. At least you can sob without worrying what horrendous shapes your face is making.

“There were no other omegas competing. Against betas and alphas you were the only one?”

“I was the only omega in the whole fucking room! Not an administrator or judge or teacher or janitor or person with extra batteries for the calculators. No one!” you howl against his sweatpants. “And everyone knew to wear makeup and do their hair except me so I looked ugly and that's probably why all the people from Laurel High were staring like I was a polar bear in a plastic enclosure.”

“Y/n, no.” Hey starts combing your hair back with his hands.

“They were just waiting for me to fail. I was an object for them to toy with for amusement. It’s not just that they didn’t want me there. It’s like –” Damiano’s hand strokes your exposed cheek.

“They didn’t really see you as a person, but you finished that shitty competition anyway.” Now that the words are out the tears should stop, but they don’t. Damiano gets an arm underneath your waist so he can hold you, rocking back and forth.

“I’m…infuriated.” It's apparent in his tone of voice. “I hate that I wasn’t there and that you felt unsafe without me. I’m so sorry.”

“It was closed to the public.”

“But they didn’t follow the regulations to keep you safe!” You flip over and look up at Damiano, lifting a hand to his angular face. He catches it and kisses each knuckle, staring into the distance and scowling. It’s clear he’s taking the competition’s lapses in judgment very personally, even as personally as you. The moisture from the moss had wet your outfit in patches, probably stained the white polyester green.

“Can we go home now? I want to get this off my body.” You sit up and Damiano nods, expression tortured. He’s looking off to the right again, towards your mark.

“I put my hair up so they’d see.” His face becomes pained, rather than pleased. “When I was nervous I’d touch the scar and it helped.”

“It's irritated. You were probably rubbing it to self soothe.”

“Oh…” You feel sheepish, even as Dami helps you off the ground. 

“Also there's makeup on your face, love. Don’t you remember putting it on?” He brushes your under eye with the pad of his thumb. Reflexively, you raise a hand to your complexion, as if you’d be able to feel the black pigment staining your face.

“Sommor?” You nod and he rolls his eyes. “I thought it looked...”

“What?”

“Tacky. She’s always been that way.” That comment literally stops you in your tracks

“Oh my god, you slept with her.” It's a horrifying realization and even worse was Dami not rebuking it. He just cringes with his shoulders raised up to his ears. It's also kind of hilarious considering how agro he was towards her today.

“Sorry,” he squeaks. “It was a long time ago.”

“Like over a year?” He squints one eye while counting on his fingers.

“You have to think about it!?” It really sucked that he’d slept with one of your teammates, but he also didn’t do anything wrong. Damiano had never squirmed like this before, so teasing is plenty of retribution.

“Nevermind, I don’t want to know,” you dismiss, dramatically walking past him. 

“Definitely a year! I didn’t even mean to have sex with her. Her friend Maia, was the one I was going after, but she hooked up with someone else that night, so,” he shrugs.

“Well thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” you reply with heavy sarcasm.

“I actually have no earthly idea why I told you that.” You begin walking backwards, facing Dami.

“I’m just impressed that you remember their names.” He throws his head back and groans in mortification. 

“I’m never gonna live this down.”

“Did you do an every letter of the alphabet challenge? Does Xiema have something to tell me?”

“No,” he says forcefully. “I made sure not to sleep with any of your friends.”

“How romantic! And I thought chivalry was dead.” He jogs a few steps to catch up.

“You’re taking this kinda well.”

“Logically, you had to get good at it somewhere. In the future, please tell me so I have a couple zingers prepared.”

“That sounds super fair.” He throws an arm over your shoulders and brings you in for a kiss on the temple. “Christ, I wish I was as funny as you.”

“You are funny!” Some of your favorite moments were rolling around in Dami’s bed cackling, until you got side cramps.

“I know I’m funny, but you’re so quick witted. Whenever I see you humble some alpha, I’m happy to be on your good side.” So Damiano’s funny, but you’re funny and mean? He phrased it like a compliment, so you’re left contemplating what such a compliment said about your personality. Sliding into the car seats, your mind is occupied until Dami speaks.

“Oh man, someone’s gonna have to teach you how to drive pretty soon,” he ponders, buckling his seatbelt. “Poor bastard.” Damiano brakes at the stop sign and finds you staring at him. “No! Absolutely not.” You continue the silent stare, smirking. “Oh, fuck me.” Damiano rests his head on the steering wheel upon realizing his fate. “I am the poor bastard. God damn it, this is what I get for being a cradle robber.” Wow. Yep, that did feel like shit. But you’d started the age jokes, which meant you had to take them too.

“Well if I show up to practice with any inexplicable injuries,” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, “I can just tell them it's from almost dying in a car crash. After seeing how you handled Okoro’s team, I’m sure they won’t question it.” he chuckles. That had to be excessive, but one glance at Dami reveals that he’s not intentionally punishing you. He never intentionally punished you, but it did happen the other way around. Dami actually thinks this is flattery, and being confronted with the realities of his perception is beyond jarring. Liking this part of your character doesn’t change the fact that Damiano sees you as a bitch, too.

“Hey, stop, stop, stop.” Stop what? “You’re doing it again.” He pulls your hand from your neck and laces your fingers together so you can’t rub the scar subconsciously. “The proximity to your scent gland makes me really nervous, kit – love.” Kit wasn’t so bad. Foxes had kits.

“I like the pet names, but kitten just doesn’t feel right anymore. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“It just doesn’t fit.” He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand.

“That’s fine, I can just say something else.” A healthy person was not meant to contain this much self-loathing at one time. You bring your legs to your chest and rest your face on your kneecaps.

“Something else you wanna –” Dami’s phone rings. He curses under his breath instead of reading the contact name immediately. 

“Who’s parents?”

“Your dad,” he groans, hitting ANSWER. “Good morning, Kevin. How are you doing on this beautiful day?” It’s a miracle how genuine he sounds.

“Is y/n with you?”

“Yes she is. Safe and sound. We’re headed home right now.”

“She was supposed to be in the van with the rest of the team. That was the plan.”

“I’m so sorry if you were unsure of her whereabouts. I assumed –”

“We figured she was with you, since one of her teammates told the coach as much. That girl got in the van with everyone else like normal.” Normal was one of your father’s favorite words (and concepts).

“I know who you’re talking about, her name is Sommar.” There's a long silence, as your father recovers from Damiano not taking the bait.

“Why isn’t y/n answering her phone?” You strain to grab your bag from the backseat.

“I believe she still has it turned off from the competition, but I’ll have her turn it on right now.” You nod. Lacking patience, you turn the backpack upside down, dumping all your shit out on the floor. Damiano begins to laugh at the strawberry four chapsticks with peeling labels and hoarders collection of empty water bottles, but covers it with a cough.

“Bring her straight home. Y/n needs to discuss this behavior and the consequences with her family.” You shake your head vigorously and Damiano places a hand on your leg.

“Can you please elaborate for me?” Kevin releases a long, irritated sigh.

“Look, we really appreciate times you might have provided some type of protection,” that was an insulting amount of qualifiers, “but y/n needs to preserve her resilience.” All you had been today was resilient and Dami seems to think the same as he squeezes your thigh to pacify your anxiety. “A year ago she would never have called a boyfriend to come pick her up because she was upset about getting second place.”

“Y/n is not upset about getting second place. The way she was treated today –”

“And do you think that is helped by being the only one with a chauffeur? Being seen as having special privileges, being different from everyone else, that's not gonna make anything easier. Disagreements are normal. It happens in the adult world all the time and you have to resolve them, not run away. I think –”

“‘I’m gonna have to pause you right there, Kevin.” Dami actually pulls over as he speaks. “Lots of kids were picked up by their parents or perhaps even partners. I don’t know for sure, because we didn’t hang around long. What I do know, for a fact, is that the only person questioning y/n’s resilience right now is you.”

“Be that as it mm – Olivia, it’s fine.”  Your father holds the phone away from his ear while speaking to your mother. “I’ve got a handle on it…well, alright.” His voice is faint, but you can still hear how begrudging his concession is.

“Dami, darling, you’re on speakerphone with the both of us.” Since coming home to a gourmet dinner and clean kitchen on Monday, your mother had grown quite fond of Damiano.

“Olivia, how are you this morning?” This time the warmth isn’t manufactured. 

“I’m quite well and happy to hear that our girl is being taken care of.” Kevin huffs in disagreement. “Of course, taking the van with everybody else would have been better.”

“Normally that’d stand to reason, but y/n isn’t like everyone else, and her teammates remind her regularly. Today the competition broke multiple regulations by having y/n as the only omega in a room – actually, calling that arena a room isn’t accurate. It's the size of a skating rink. In a space of over 40 people, at least 25 alphas, most of them single, she was the only omega.”

“Oh my god. Kevin!”

“I feel deeply uncomfortable with any actions that might discourage y/n from repeating this behavior, whether overt or subliminal. Discipline is out of the question, since this was an issue of safety and y/n couldn’t have reacted more appropriately.” Your eyebrows must be in your hairline and it wasn’t just Dami’s eloquence. He was using his alpha authoritarianism to instruct your father on how to raise his daughter.

“Well that's a little dramatic.”    

“In a state of flight, fawn, or freeze, an omega isn’t going to choose the best plan of action, but the easiest. They’re already battling sensory overwhelm, so I need to be her path of least resistance. When y/n goes “I think I might be in danger. What the hell can I do?’” Swearing in front of Kevin, even if just for emphasis, was a ballsy move. It seemed like Dami was too impassioned to care, both hands gesticulating as if he was speaking to your parents in person.

“I need her to think ‘I’ll call my alpha,’ not ‘I could call Damiano, but last time I did someone got mad at me.’ Because then she isn’t going to call me. She’s gonna choose the option that won’t keep her as safe,” he’s bordering on hysterical. Anxiety that concerned your well-being seemed to escalate and escalate out of Dami’s control. You put a hand on his leg, trying to ground him. He merely glances in your direction, but in that glance you can see all the scenarios he came up with on the drive over. Revenge raped. Alpha’s getting carried away and seriously injuring you by accident because they don’t yet know their own strength. 

“Or maybe she’ll choose an option that won’t keep her safe at all.” You grab one of his hands and squeeze so he’ll focus on reality. “And if something happened to her because of that I would literally never forgive anyone –”

“Dami! Dami, I’m okay.” You undo your seatbelt and climb into his lap. “I’m fine. Hey, look at me. I’m fine.” He doesn’t want to meet your eyes initially, caught up in all the horrors of his mind. You force him to, knowing that your healthy contenance will soothe his panic.

“Y/n?” rings your mother's worried voice.

“Hi, mom. We pulled over a while ago, by the way.” Damiano looks at you, with his jaw in your right hand, nails of your left in his undercut. Your lower body is still on the center console, so he pulls you fully onto his lap, sitting sideways.

“Oh, well that's good.” If they think Dami is on the verge of a breakdown, your parents will interrupt today’s plans, which must be avoided at all costs. A weekend together was your reward for trying to “take space,” as Jay begrudgingly requested. It still struck you as a strange and damn near counterintuitive request for a new alpha-omega couple. Bonding was encouraged by society, and if there was a concern, it was over a lack of connection, not a surplus.

“I know Clio isn’t particularly fond of Damiano, but I think they could bond over worrying about things that are never going to happen.” 

“It’s my job to worry about you.” He kisses you lightly (so the gesture doesn’t make a sound) but slow. 

“And we do so appreciate your help today. Um…y/n, when will we see you next? Tomorrow?” Your father is grumbling in the background. Holding the phone away from her ear, but not nearly far enough for her words to be indistinguishable, your mother hisses at him. “I wouldn’t dream of separating them right now and if you ever went to the Support Meetings you’d understand why that’d be cruel.”

“You’ll see her tomorrow and y/n will keep you updated on our whereabouts via text now that her phone is on,” Damiano answers. “We’re gonna go to the game tonight.”

“I’ll be amusing myself by eating my weight in junk food and screaming random sports terminology.” 

“She does it so confidently that nobody figures it out before our break,” he responds fondly.

“And you’ll be meeting friends there?” When your mother asks, the sentiment isn’t so accosting.   

“Yeah, tons of people, plus I think y/n is inviting…”

“Gia and Xiema, if I can convince Xia to come. They’ll also be joining in on the junk food and heckling, of course.”

“Yeah, focusing on the actual game is too mainstream.”

“Only cool kids undermine the integrity of events because they’re too lazy to learn the rules.”

“You know the rules! You’re just hellbent on creating chaos to distract the opposing team.”

“I guess you know to ignore the random voice screaming ‘SPIKE IT’ as you’re trying to make a goal.” Dami is doing what you’ve donned The Possessed Seagull Laugh, bent over and leaning against you.

“Damiano, I’m sorry for raising such a heathen. I really tried my best,” your mother adds to the banter. 

“Don’t apologize, she’s probably helped our point margins this season.”

“Help? I am solely responsible for your success.”

“Your humility is one of my favorite things about you, dear.”

“Oh yeah? That and the banshee screams at 10:00 AM right?”

“I especially enjoy the expressions of the opposing team at the end of the game when they realize the crazy woman in the stands is my omega.”

“Okay, okay, so it sounds like you guys have some great plans tonight,” she laughs. It’s been so long since you heard your mother’s laugh.

“Y/n, call me if you need someone to talk to before I see you tomorrow. I love you, be safe.” 

“Love you too, bye!” Instead of getting back on the road, Damiano holds you for a minute with a hand up the back of your shirt. His face is pressed into your neck and you know he wants to be scented, but that’d make focusing on driving difficult. So he’s tiding himself over by admiring your mark. He thought you’d be upset at the scarring since it branded you as his for the near future. Who else am I going to spend my future with? you’d asked. Dami got a funny look and worked three dark and very visible hickies into your neck and shoulder that you were plagued with concealing from your father. At school you wore them proudly. Secretly, he’d wait around corners and watch you walk to class. Alphas did a double take and you never noticed.

Of course, his inner pessimist made Dami also ponder that If anything were to happen to him, or god forbid the relationship, the discolored skin would remain. The next alpha would have to bite through the scar tissue if they marked that side. It’d be much harder to get their teeth in, Damiano still guarding you from a world away. 

“What are you thinking about?” He sits upright with that same strange expression.

“Oh, just toxic alpha stuff that would annoy you.” He pats your ass with finality. “Let's go home, hmm?” You climb back across the center console with his help. “And sorry for…freaking out on the phone call with your parents. I – Jay, I’ll talk to Jay about managing that.”

“It’s alright.” Wearing a genuine smile, you squeeze his leg, then keep your hands to yourself. Possessiveness and arousal were extremely close for alpha’s and you weren’t feeling up for the usual raucous lovemaking. The most accurate adjective was fragile and it was awful. You avoided fragility at all costs, especially the perception of it.

“I think I’m gonna quit the AE club. I can’t go through that again, it isn’t worth it.”

“Understandable.”

“All of the alphas are friends with each other and all the betas are friends with the alphas, but nobody except Rosemary is friends with me. I act like I don’t give a shit, obviously, but it kinda hurts a lot, I guess.”

“I won’t tell,” he whispers.

“Thalia says it feels like everybody has the 10th edition of a social handbook that she only has the first edition of. AE club is like that.”

“Alphas do relate to each other differently than omegas, that's not on you.”

“They just want to keep me on the outside and what's worse is – is that the other teams hated me because I’m an omega, but they hate my personality.”

“Baby, you said they’d accepted you!”

“As a human calculator, but I didn’t realize before today that – that it's different.” you get choked up and stop talking.

“Baby, I can’t imagine what you dealt with today. Rosemary and Sommar like you and I bet that –”

“Sommor likes that I make her look good as team captain. It’s self-serving.” Damiano pauses in thought before answering.

“Okay, that’s fair.” You appreciate his honesty, but hearing that Sommar actually did want to be your friend and she just had a weird way of showing it might have been better. Even if it was a lie. Suddenly, the fact that Dami had slept with her and didn’t tell you for two weeks, knowing she was on the team, is upsetting.

“Maybe she’s not so bad. She could have publicly humiliated me with the fact that you’d slept together and I’d be completely unprepared.” Her enduring loyalty to Dami was worse.“How many other people do you have keeping your secrets from me?”

“Woah!” You roll your eyes at his reaction. “A second ago you were fine with this.”

“I was fine with you fucking someone else before we met. Keeping it from me? Not okay. If I hadn’t put two and two together, would you have told me yourself? Or would you have waited for Sommor to do it?

“I would have told you.”

“When?”

“Today! I wasn’t sure that it was the right Sommar until I saw her. We spent about half an hour alone together, in the woods, at night. I didn’t know her last name.”

“Even if you weren’t sure, you should have told me.”

“If I told you every time there was a possibility that someone interacting with you had been a past hookup, you’d think I was a piece of shit. If we’re being completely honest, I wasn’t sober every time either, so some of them I don’t really remember. Okay? It’s embarrassing,” he confesses. It’s not as if you can argue with his experience, so you fall silent.

“I’m really sorry that you’ll be dealing with this baggage for the rest of high school. If I could go back, I’d change so much, but I’m stuck with this shit.” Looking at your hands, unsure how to respond, the tension thickens. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I don’t know what to say! It feels like Sommor was keeping this secret out of continued loyalty to you and you were allowing it. I can see that's not how it was, but it still makes me insecure as fuck.”

“I wouldn’t do that, y/n, I swear.”

“God that whole fucking competition made me insecure. I can’t tell if I’m what's wrong or if it's bias or both. Today was such a mind fuck, I hated it.” You fix your gaze out the window, watching the other cars on the freeway. “I don’t even know why I bring it up, it's so rudimentary in comparison to what you deal with.”

“Y/n, no. You get to have problems that aren’t medical emergencies.”

“They’re superficial and petty.”

“I don’t give a fuck. If they’re affecting you, I want to know. If they’re not, I still want to know what you’re thinking.” He pauses to inhale. “Also nothing about today has been superficial, It’s real, heavy stuff. I need to know how you’re doing, ideally before anyone else.”

“Okay,” you agree, too bashful to meet his eyes. Luckily Damiano has a great sense of humor.

“I want to know if you have a particularly good cup of coffee and if you subsequently have a good shi –”

“Ew! Stop talking!”

“The role of digestive health is not to be underestimated!” he insists, jokingly. Then Dami’s tone becomes slightly serious.

 “I guess I never told you this, but I used to get the worst upset stomachs. We went to a gastroenterologist who tested for celiac and lactose intolerance, then another that checked for inflammation, not a fun experience I’ll have you know. Everything was negative. They couldn’t figure it out until a nurse suggested that it's from anxiety. At first I couldn’t accept that it was all in my head.”

“Baby, has this been going on and you were hiding it?”

“No,” he smiles. “When I’m with you, I never get stomach aches. It happened almost immediately. When I was trying to keep my distance some days I’d feel so sick, but I’d just tell myself, ‘make it till the end of the 6th block.’ Then I’d hug you and the rush of oxytocin would… I’d be okay. My body remembered how to regulate.”

“Damiiiii,” you whine, emotional. “Why didn't you tell me before?”

“Because ‘you cured my psychosomatic IBS’ is a creepy thing to say.”

“Creepy isn’t the word I would use.”

“And how the fuck am I supoosed to lead into that? Give me one way to lead in that isn’t gross.”

“I –” you begin to say, but end up stumped. “Okay I see your point.”

“Thank you.” You spend the rest of the car ride in comfortable silence. Or rather, Damiano spends the rest of the car ride in comfortable silence and you are left alone with your thoughts. So far today, that has proven a very bad position to occupy. 

Yeah, Dami found your behavior at games funny, but he must also find it annoying. Why hasn't he mentioned that you were embarrassing him? Surely these quirks will stop being amusing when the novelty wears off. If your personality isn’t interesting, then what is it besides contrary? You’d made a joke about the integrity of the event, as if sports wasn’t an integral part of Dami’s life and identity. It helped him manage his symptoms, but you always made everyone aware that you were above taking matches seriously. He didn’t hold himself superior to anything in your life. 

Damiano sighs upon putting the car in park. He should have kept talking to you, because now you have an expression like your soul has been crushed under someone’s boot. He has a close enough relationship with self loathing to know what it looks like. 

Dami gets out of the car and walks around the hood. The sound of the driver’s side door closing makes you look up for the first time in several minutes. Slowly, you unbuckle your seatbelt, unsure if he intends to do the gentlemanly thing and open the door. Damiano does, but he crouches down to sit on the driveway as soon as you swing your legs out. It's the same gesture as earlier this week, which means this wasn’t out of convenience. Damiano was purposefully positioning himself lower than you, as a rare act of submission. If you couldn’t confide in him as your alpha, maybe you’d talk to Dam, your friend.

“Give me both hands and look at me,” he requests, as softly as he’s able. You extend your hands and gaze out from under your lashes.

“Will you keep looking at me?” You nod, already wanting to divert your eyes away from such intensity. “Do you promise?” He’s never asked you to promise this before.

“Um, yes.”

“When I decided that we could enter a relationship, I knew I was dating a 15 year old. I never expected the maturity level of dating someone my own age, but you’re very good at pretending. I’m not gonna lie, it's convenient.” He takes a deep breath and you realize you hadn’t inhaled since Dami began speaking. “But if I have to watch another second of you hating yourself for acting 15 because you are 15, my heart is gonna break, love.” You’re shaking and your face feels hot, but are too stunned to cry. “You get to be 15. You get to rant about your social life. You get to be a pain in the ass omega and you’ll still be owed unconditional love and protection from me, your alpha.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you whisper.

“Too bad, I want you to be my burden.”

“But you’ll resent me,” you whimper, feeling the scalding hot tears run down your face and snot from your nose. It must have been a great look, especially from Dami’s angle.

“No. I’ll be fulfilled.” You shake your head and holding eye contact is hell. “Why would I ask for something that would create problems in our relationship? I’m not about to sabotage this.” He’s right, it doesn’t make sense. “Y/n, you’re used to caring for other people and you’re really good at it, but this isn’t a one-sided relationship. Just like you help me deal with my pain, I’m going to do the same. Sometimes that's gonna be difficult for you because this is new, but I’m going to insist anyway.” 

Finally you break eye contact, staring at the clouded sky as mascara drips. You try to cover your face, but Damiano won’t give you back use of your hands. He’s not giving you space to hide, not a single inch.

“Look at me.” You shake your head. “Y/n, look at me,” he demands. With a hint of resentment, your gaze finds his.

“Give me your burden.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” You try to put a wall up.

“You’ve had to bear this all by yourself, but now you’re not alone. You are not alone.”

“We’re in a relationship for fucks sake I know that –”

“Y/n listen to me. You are not alone. Be emotional, be inconvenient, be 15.”

“As opposed to what?” you challenge, because that was easier. “What have I been this whole time, huh? What are you talking about?”

“You are not alone,” he repeats, patiently.

“No shit! There's this crazy man that won’t let me use my hands.”

“You are not alone. Y/n is not alone.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about!?” Even as you try to dismiss the whole thing, you gasp for air and taste snot. After wiping that on your arm indignantly, you try to steel yourself and end up with a sob.

“You are not alone. You are not alone.”

“Uh! Stop saying that!”

“Y/n is not alone. She is not alone. You are not alone. You are not alone.” A different version of you would have fought it out for another 30 seconds at least, and maybe even managed to control her emotions. This version of y/n knew how good it would feel to cave and fall into her alpha’s loving arms.

“I feel so fucking fragile,” you confess, knees aching as they collide with asphalt. Damiano holds you in a way that could squeeze a thousand broken pieces together. He picks you up off the ground and kicks the car door closed.

“Got your phone, love?” You nod, annoyed by the strands of hair stuck to your face as the skin becomes tacky.  Who knew that your body would remember every tear you didn’t cry and demand that the debt be paid in full? It was brutal, but a relief. As Dami opens the door, you try to convince yourself that his parents seeing you as a hot mess doesn’t matter after the entire neighborhood just witnessed the mental breakdown.

“Hey, I made you some snacks to bring back to your room,” is the first thing you hear Matteo say. He pushes a tray full of food and drinks into Damiano’s hands, probably worried about you fainting again. 

“Thank you so much.” You hug him, not because that's the routine, but because it feels right. “I’m sorry for ruining your whole morning.”

“No, no, I heard about – well let's not talk about that now. Are you okay?” Typically you’d respond affirmatively, regardless of if the house was burning down. Today you try to come up with an honest statement.

“It feels like everyone thinks I’m a bitch.”

“Well, I certainly –”

“False! Entirely false! Nobody thinks that, baby.” 

“Bremen literally told me that nobody likes me because I’m a bitch.” You glance over your shoulder and see Damiano turning red from anger. It's a good thing he’s holding the tray so he can’t go straight to his phone.

“Sommar agreed with him, but said that being a bitch is a good thing.”

“Next time I see that little shit stain I’m gonna break him in half and then –” Matteo interrupts Dami’s enraged muttering.

“If you were an alpha they would have called those leadership qualities and recommended you seek out management positions in the workplace.” Matteo’s words reframe your entire perception of today and beyond. “Something possesses people at high school competitions to act so heinously. Ignore it if you can, or even listen to music. That always helps Dam.

“Well I’m quitting the AE team, anyway.”

“Oh, really? I read that… ��� He shifts his gaze onto his son behind you, searching for a signal of some sort. “I read that you got second place.”

“She kicked ass,” he announces proudly. If Dami had been in the arena, he’d have seen that you were a quivering mess.

“But it kicked right back,” you joke, looking down the hall longingly.“It’s such an injustice that you have to change.” Matteo opens his mouth to speak further, but sees the exhaustion in your eyes and stops. “A conversation for another time,” he says, with finality, and turns towards the kitchen. The gesture allows you to politely walk away.

Notes: A throwback to when I originally started posting in that this isn't not proofread.

Taglist: @bieberhoodforever @blackberryblossom @butkutee @cuzimitaliano @elvirabelle  @iamtashaquinn@icarodamiano @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @little-moonbeam-666 @maneslut @mortyandem  @the-chaotic-cow  @wasteddoubts @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia   @azertyhug @biancathecool @bohemianrainbow @daisy0gf @dustyinkpages @katyldamusic @minnietmouse @obiw4n @persona1read1ng  @gr8rainbowpunk @hiraetheral @l0standn0tf0und @que--sera--sera @stardustingold  @teenyweenynightghost   @softmullet @solacestyles @thegeminisgirl @bobfood  @slavicgoddess13 @bright-shiningstar @lizzylynch1

[pinkcherryblossomangel]

Away from myself

A follow up to AWAY FROM HOME

Bang Chan x reader

- it's eight months after the last chapter

- it's seven months since Y/N saw some nasty responses to rumours

- it's six months since she started spiralling

- five months since she stopped replying to his text

- four months since she stopped reading them

- three months since he stopped messaging

- two months since she stopped sleeping properly

- one day till she has to see him again.

STARING

Bang Chan

Han

Changbin

Y/N

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

TRIGGER WARNINGS

Depression

NSFW

Negative body image

Anxiety

Self-hatred

General poor mental health

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

His hand reaches up, grabbing mine out of his hair. Our finger interlock as he continues to explore.

My breath hitches at every change in direction.

The vibration of his giggles adding to the build up.

I glance down and see the smirk in his eyes.

The intense connection pushing me towards ~

I lurch awake. Panting, as sweat trickles down my back and forehead.

That didn't happen...

I wanted it more than anything, but that didn't happen.

I tear away my duvet and head to the bathroom. Walking down the dark hallway I know better than the back of my hand. It's been six months since I last spoke to Chris. And 3 months since he stopped trying to contact me.

Why do I always do this?

I always ruin everything good.

The cold water on my hands grounds me. The sensation reminding that this is what is real. The girl in the mirror is me. She is here. I am here.

"You okay sweetheart" my mums voice adds to the dawn birds song.

"Yeah just.."

"A bad dream?" She asks standing in the doorway. How do I answer this? Cause no. It wasn't a bad dream. It was an incredible one. One that reminded me of how utterly stupid I am.

"Yeah".

"Come here!" My mums embrace envelopes me in comfort. "Remember those bad dreams aren't really my love." I know that's the problem "and if they were I'd fight them off for you". She pinches my cheek like she did when I was a baby.

How can someone so full of love have made me?

"Now get back to sleep. Big day tomorrow!" Her excitement making me feel guilty for my lack.

"Do I have to go?!" I almost plead. She brushes my hair from my face.

"Y/N... my love yes. Yes you have to go! In two days time we will be in London. On a red carpet, at the premiere of your first every big film." The pride radiates off her. "My little girl" her eyes start to well, my follow in response. "Look at you living your dream! Being my little star!"

"I'm taller than you" I laugh between sobs.

"You'll always be my little girl." She switches in to PA mode, "Now go to bed, the train to London is at 9. And you have a call with your manager at 8."

"Love you mum"

"Love you too." She hugs me again "now move I need the toilet!"

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

I beat my alarm by five minutes. My dad always said to set it 20 minutes before the scheduled arrival, so when you fall asleep, you don't miss your stop.

I guess he had some good advice after all.

My phones buzzes but it's not the alarm.

It's him.

It's Chris.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuckity.

Fuck.

I can't ignore him, tomorrow evening we'll be sat next to each other at the screening. Maybe I can ask Han to swap seats. Or is that too harsh? I just know that if his thigh touches mine...

Y/N, no. You can't do this. He deserves way better than you. Someone who could love him so much more than you can. You'll burden him. I love him too much to do that.

I'll check his message at the hotel. I pull my head phones and press shuffle.

Not now...

I haven't listen to them in months and now! The god damn universe hates me.

This will do. My eyes settle on the countryside flying past.

I need to be brave.

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

I thank the receptionist as she hands me the PR plan for the next two weeks.

First the London premiere, then to the La premiere and lastly off to Seoul for the Asian premiere. The 3racha soundtrack is highly anticipated there, so much so they changed to an even bigger venue than la.

From what I heard it will be worth the wait. Chan would come over to my room every night after filming to show me what they'd come up with. Each snippet better than the last.

Each night ending in a passionate embrace.

No.

Stop it.

I close my eyes as if that will make the images erase from my mind.

Shit his text. I can't just ignore it. Why am I hyping myself up to read a text? What is wrong with me. Jesus.

I chuck my phone on the couch next to the TV. What am I gonna say.

I'm sorry Chris, I didn't message you for 6 months because I saw one tweet about us being friends and how I'm a fat piece of shit and I started to spiral and haven't been able to look at any thing to do with stray kids since then!

Or maybe

I'm sorry Chris that I somehow tricked you into liking me in anyway possible, we should just pretend nothing ever happened between us. Pretend that everytime something good happens, it isn't immediately ruined because I can't tell him. And then i wallow in my own stupid self-pity.

Christ... he really dodged a bullet

Flopping down on the bed, i open the manila envelope to see who I'm paired with for the interviews. I'm guessing it'll be with Jack, my on screen boyfriend. Haven't spoken to him since we stopped filming. So that's another awkward re-meeting tomorrow.

But it's not Jack's name there. Or jenna or tash. No it's non of my fellow actors. It's the boys of 3racha.

I immediately dial my manager.

"Hey Julie, I just got my PR plan. It says I'm doing the press bracket with 3racha? I thought I'd be doing it with Jack? Or another actor?"

"Oh yes! I forgot to say this morning! Since there's been such buzz around the soundtrack, Ryan thought it'd be a great idea to have them in the interviews. And he said you got along so well he'd thought you enjoy it!" Of course he did. "Is everything good? Do you want me to ask if they can change it?"

"No its okay, I was just a bit surprised is all" I can't kick up a fuss. I don't want any drama. "I'll see you tomorrow Julie!

" Remember, your interviews start at 9 am. I'll be there at 11. And then 7pm it's the red carpet and at 9pm it's the screening."

"I know," I say, trying to emphasise how many times I've been over the plan. "I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you"

"Thank you Y/N! Now have a nice dinner and treat your mum to something nice!"

"Don't worry I will". I hang up.

I need to text chan back.

I am not ready.

Someone knocks at the door. I open it and he's there.

Christopher is there in front of me.

I can't control myself. I burst into tears.

"I guess we're hotel neighbours again" he smiles sadly.

[leffee]

More lps generated incorrect quotes except this time I decided not to put them as screenshots but simply copy them like that because they're easier to read this way (stealing lps-incorrect-quotes' job :O):

Vinnie: Why does Sunil always do the laundry so loudly?

Russell: So everyone knows that no one helps him out in the house.

Sunil, in the distance: * slams the washing machine shut*

Vinnie: I woke up and chose VIOLENCE. I WILL COMMIT ARSON AND BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!!! I AM ANGRY-

Russell: Awwww, you're so adorable! Give me a hug~

Vinnie: Wh- What? NO, YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED OF ME! TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH-

Sunil, recording: This is so cute.

Vinnie, negotiating with Sunil

Sunil: We have Russell. Give us ten thousand dollars and he will be returned to you unharmed

Russell: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I'm only worth ten thousand dollars?

Vinnie:

Russell: MAKE IT ONE MILLION-

Vinnie: Russell STOP

Vinnie: If you had to choose between Sunil and all the money I have in my wallet, which would you choose?

Russell: That depends, how much money are we taking about?

Sunil: Russell!

Vinnie: 63 cents.

Russell: I'll take the money.

Sunil: Russell!!!

Sunil: What time is it?

Vinnie: I don't know; pass me that saxophone and we'll find out

Vinnie: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Russell: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Vinnie: It's 2 am

Sunil: Yo dumbass, get over here.

Russell: Okay.

Vinnie: * gleefully runs past* I'm coming!

Russell, sadly: I thought...I was dumbass...

Sunil: Vinnie, I am questioning your sanity...

Russell: I never questioned it, I knew his sanity was missing from the start.

Sunil: Well, remember when Russell made a romantic dinner for me?

Vinnie: Sunil, he microwaved you a pizza.

Sunil: You bought a taco?

Vinnie: Yes.

Sunil: From the same truck that hit Russell?!

Vinnie, with a mouthful of taco: Well, me starving ain't gonna help him.

Sunil, driving Vinnie and Russell: So how was your day?

Vinnie: We almost got surprise adopted!

Sunil: What?

Russell: We almost got kidnapped.

Sunil: Oh, okay.

Sunil: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

Sunil: Hey, did you know as a kid I accidentally ate paper?

Russell: I feel like we've all done that at least once.

Vinnie: I ate it too-

Russell: See?

Vinnie:-On purpose...

Sunil & Russell: ...What?

Vinnie: Sunil is too tall for me to kiss him on the lips. What should I do?

Zoe: Punch him in the stomach. Then, when he doubles over in pain, kiss him.

Pepper: Tackle them!

Russell: Dump them.

Penny: Kick them in the shin!

Sunil: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!!

Vinnie: *dies*

Pepper: Timer starts now! When is he coming back? I say two months!

Sunil: Bullshit. One month.

Zoe: Nah, half a month.

Russell, sobbing: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? A PERSON JUST DIED!

Penny, scratching chin in thought: One week.

Vinnie, rubbing his temples: I am not proud of what I am about to say, but someone get me a cigarrette.

Pepper: But Vinnie, we don't smoke.

Vinnie: Cut the crap, Pepper. I'm not an idiot. I know that one in five people smoke.

Vinnie: *points at Penny* One! *points at Sunil* Two! *points at Russell* Three! *points at Zoe* Four! *points at Pepper* Five!

Vinnie: Now, I am going to close my eyes, and when I open them, there better be a cigarrette between these two fingers!

Zoe: *puts a cigarrette in Vinnie's hand*

Vinnie: Thank you. ...Light?

The Squad: *all simultaneously pull out lighters*

Vinnie: You know, when Pepper comes over, Zoe can get a little…

Sunil: Psycho?

Russell: Scary?

Penny: Drunk?

Vinnie: All three.

Vinnie: Fine! Judge all you want but...

Vinnie, points at Penny: Married a lesbian.

Vinnie, points at Zoe: Left a man at the altar.

Vinnie, points at Sunil: Fell in love with a gay ice dancer.

Vinnie, points at Russell: Threw a girl's wooden leg in a fire.

Vinnie, points at Pepper: Lives in a box!

Since I copied them in text I thought that I could just change names manually if they didn't fit, but then I left them the way they were generated because I decided that it was funnier like that :D

[bluegoblinzz]

Clouds Fill the Mind of the Drone

The room was cramped. Every wall was black and shiny, and the ceiling was low, and the room, for a moment was only lit by a set of square lights on the perimeter of the room. They were the kinds of lights you’d see lining the aisles at a movie theater, but they were a bright white instead of a dim red. I tried to stand, but cold metal pressed against my wrists, holding me back. I shuddered, and I felt a pit in my stomach. I wanted to scream, to shout for help, but I knew whoever my captors were would have none of that. So instead, I shut my eyes and told myself I would be okay… my roommate would realize I’m missing and call someone… I would be found. 

I looked around, trying to calm myself, to ground myself. I tried to observe where I was but not dwell upon why I was there, yet…

Five things you can see…

I can see… a table.

On the table is… a really old computer. Holy fuck that thing is a dinosaur, it’s cube shaped.

And I see… my chair… it’s metal. 

I see… my cuffs attached to the chair… they have a blinking light. Damn, if they can invest in futuristic handcuffs and fancy lights, you’d think the would at least get a new computer. 

And I see… My old sneakers, that I’m wearing. 

I took in a deep breath and shut my eyes. 

Four things I can hear…

…I can only hear my breath…

..also I can hear my heartbeat in my ears… 

… and-

CLICK!

The silence was broken by a loud sharp click, which made me flinch. When I opened my eyes, I saw the screen of the old computer had lit, up, and then went dark. In the middle of a black screen, bright white text appeared in blocky letters.  

‘PRESS ANY KEY TO CONTINUE’

Right when I read those words, the lights on my handcuffs turned green and the cuffs opened up. I stared at the old screen for a moment, taking a deep breath inward before pressing the space key on the keyboard. The entire screen lit up white, and there was a hiss as white noise came from the speakers on either side. Happy cheesy piano music played through the muffled crackling speakers, and a logo appeared on screen. The logo was of the stock cloud image, the one with the three puffs, but it was angular, where each puff was a trapezoid, and the logo was a deep indigo. 

“Hello, and thank you for joining Cumulus,” An enthusiastic female voice spoke. It was muffled and garbled as well. A scene faded into focus on the screen. The screen was fuzzy and the color contrast and lighting were off, too warm. The scene was of a white middle class cishet couple sitting at a breakfast table. The overall enthusiasm of the video, combined with the low quality computer combined with my disposition… It made me feel nauseous. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. 

“Here at Cumulus we are committed to making communities around us are safe, and making work run quicker!” And this was where the video went from weird to frightening. There was a big tall person in a black shiny suit. Or at least I think it was a suit. They were covered head to toe so I couldn't tell if it was a person, but if it were a robot then it would be way too high tech. Well, whatever this… figure was, it had a broad stature and was very muscular. Bright blue lines ran up and down the suit, from its boots, up its torso, and around its arms. On the center of its chest were a set of blue letters and numbers. It said “CC-552”  There was some kind of metallic pack on the back with two tubes that connected to the helm…

And the helm was the strangest part… the eyes were covered with some glowing screen that looked somewhat like ski-goggles… There were two big triangular points on top of the head, which I couldn’t tell if they were supposed to be ears or horns. And where there was supposed to be a nose a and mouth, there was a vague square bump that looked like it could have been the snout of a bull, or some kind of lizard? The muzzle of some animal, is all I could tell. That was where the two tubes connected to. 

… Oh and the suit also had a tail because it couldn’t be weird enough!

Anyway, this thing, whatever it was, put a platter of pancakes on the table. The man sitting  at the table smiled and nodded, and the thing saluted back, and moved stiffly and robotically back to the kitchen counter. The camera dollied out until it was outside of the house, outside of the window looking in at the scene, and soon, the couple was out of view, and another similar suit stood guard with a gun outside the door. The mask here was much more clearly dog-like, the rubber muzzle coming into a point. Except, the lines and numbers on this suit were lime green instead of blue. The numbers on its chest were “GD-001”

  “Our mission is to make life easier and to make everyone happier.” The scene changed; it showed one cat suit manning the counter at some fast-food restaurant, wearing a polo shirt, shorts, and a cap with the fastfood logo on it. Off to the side, another bull suit with the same uniform played with a claw machine, took the toy out of it, and handed it to a child, who jumped for joy when she received her new unicorn toy.

“And we can’t thank YOU enough for helping contribute to that!” The shot there was of four of these suits. Two of them had arms around each other, and all of them either waved to the camera, or held up peace signs.

“So, what do you need to do to join the family? How do YOU get started?” A graphic of a stick figure in a box in front of a computer appeared on screen. 

“Once this video is done, you will have access to the changing room. In there, you change into your uniform.” The stick figure hopped into a second box, and then was replaced by the outline of an anthropomorphic bull.

“Then in the next room, you can gain your visor, batteries, and other implements, to fully become one of our state of the art drones.”  A chill went down my spine, and I felt my breath get stuck in my lungs.

Drones, I thought, that’s what those were… and that’s what they’ll make me. 

“After that, you will have a chat with one of our seasoned employees about any questions you may have working here.” The anthropomorphic bull figure sat at a table in front of another anthropomorphic animal.

‘How do I get out of here?’ was the only question I had, but I had a feeling whoever was there wouldn’t have an answer for me. 

“And in the final room, you begin your programming.”  The little figure hopped into one last box, where it lied down and was overlayed with a spiral. I told myself I wouldn’t go into that room. 

“Take all the time you need growing accustomed to being a drone, but for your own safety and health, please do not wait too long. Thank you for volunteering, and we hope you enjoy working at Cumulus!” The cheesy piano music abruptly came to a stop and the screen went black. 

“Volunteered,” I muttered sarcastically. At that point i was beyond panic; i was completely removed from reality. My chest felt tight and I still felt shaky, but emotionally I felt nothing. My thoughts went from ‘this can’t be happening’ to ‘this isn’t happening. How could it?’ And I believed them. 

A beep and another click made me flinch again, and when I looked down, I noticed the cuffs around my ankles were undone, the lights on them going green as well. To my left: the wall slid upward soundlessly, revealing a brighter room lined with black UV lights. This room was larger, and the ceiling was higher. The walls and ceilings were black the lights revealed zigzagging fluorescent lines on the walls, and blue fluorescent lights on the ground. At the end of the room was a big rubber suit hung on the wall.  Below it were a pair of rubber boots and a helm. The black rubber had an especially shiny coating to it, a thin silvery finish, as if the rubber had been UV coated. There were purple fluorescent markings on the suit as well, with a purple logo of the angular cloud on one shoulder, and big purple numbers written across the chest: “AQ-320.” I walked up to the suit and stared at it… it was mine, they made it for me… 

“I don’t… need to put it on,” I told myself, “They can’t make me.”

But then my heart sank as I had a realization: they had said: “for your own safety and health, please do not wait too long.” They weren’t going to do anything until I put the suit on. My choices were either to comply or to starve. I know a lot of people say that they wish to “die with dignity,” or go by that old phrase “give me liberty or give me death,” but I knew I was weak, and wasn’t ready to die. I could not be a martyr, I’d rather be a drone. 

I changed into the spandex pants. They were especially snug, and there were soft rubber pads all along the outside that made the suit look muscular. Whoever designed this probably did it to intimidate ordinary people, to make them think we’re stronger than we actually are.  The inside of the boots were padded with a soft matte rubber, making them feel squishy to walk in. Next I put the gloves on. There were clips on the edges of the gloves, and different types of clips over each knuckle. The rubber of the gloves was about two or three millimeters thick, making the gloves feel heavy and making my hands feel bigger.

I noticed that there were tiny flat electronic circuits on the inside of the gloves, and on the inside of all the other pieces of the suit as well. I wondered what they would do and why I would need them. I myself was not a robot. Nonetheless I changed into the chest piece of the suit, and it was especially snug and especially heavy. At that point, I couldn’t notice how comfortable, how cozy the suit was. It made me feel both more relaxed and more unnerved. The chest piece also had thicker rubber padding around my pecs, my abs, and my biceps and triceps, telling me that the design was definitely about intimidation. The sleeves and the gloves had matching clips, so I snapped the two together. I knew I was reaching the point of no return. 

And finally there was the helmet. I picked it up and gripped it with my big rubber hands, and stared at its face for a moment. The goggles, or the ‘visor’ as the video called it, was missing, and there were clips to hold it in place. There were two circular clips on either side of the muzzle, probably where those tubes connected to. The muzzle was shorter and snub in comparison to the muzzles in the video, and the helmet had two big, floppy ears. Its cheeks were round but the jaw overall was square

A bunny, I thought to myself, and a chad bunny, at that. 

I held the helmet in one hand, and then slowly reached down behind myself to check something, and I huffed and rolled my eyes when I noticed it was there: a tiny ball of rubber above my lower back. A tail. They HAD to give me a tail. 

Slowly I put the helmet over my head, letting it rest on my crown and my shoulders, and then I snapped the clips of the helm to the clips around my neck on the chest piece. And once I did that, the smaller wall on the rectangular room beside me slid open. There were more fluorescent lines marking the floor and walls, but inside of this room was a large rectangular pack with three devices on top of it. 

It was hard to move around in the heavy suit, but I made my way over to the devices and examined each one. The first one had the appearance of a tablet except it was curved, and had a “screen” on both ends. I assumed this was the visor and I clicked it into place on the  helm. It was dark and hard to see through. Then there were two identical devices: Tiny metal boxes with four holes on each one. It took me a moment to realize that these connected to the clips on the back of each of my gloves. I clicked each device into place. Hesitantly I stared at the large metal box. It must have been a battery pack, or some kind of control panel or something… 

This is it, I thought. I had no idea why I was complying up to that point. I suppose I knew it wasn’t going to go well for me if I didn’t. I guess I was afraid and wanted to rip off the bandaid so to speak. But I knew once I put the pack on my fate was sealed. I looked up and looked around, looking for some way out one last time. I didn’t see any cracks in the walls, any ways to open the doors… I didn’t even see any cameras, but I knew there had to be, because how did they know what I was doing? Uncertainty took hold.

“Hello?” I called out, “Are you watching? W-why am I here?! Why me?!” There was no response… I knelt next to the box, still looking up at nothing in the room. 

“Why?” I repeated. 

… still no response.

I waited for a few minutes, expecting some ingenious escape plan to pop into my brain, or expecting someone to come get me. But that was the thing… I was waiting for something to happen. I was scared but the silence scared me more, I wanted to move on. I wanted to know what was next. Perhaps I was curious.

I hoisted the metal box upward, and examined it for a moment, there was a power button on the right hand corner. When I clicked it, blue and purple lines lit up all around the pack and gave off a soft glow, like a gaming computer. I turned the box around to make the clips face away from me, and clicked the clips on the right of the box to the right of my back, and swung the box around like a closing door to click the left clips to the left side of my back. And finally I grabbed a hold of the two tubes on top of the box, and connected them to each of the clips on my muzzle. 

There was a click and then everything went completely quiet, like I hadn’t noticed how loud the airflow of the room was until my helmet turned ‘noise cancelation’ on. The visor gave off a dim glow and showed that angular cloud again, the ‘Cumulus’ logo. A bunch of numbers and charts appeared on my screen, with the words “VITALS” written on top, and after a few seconds, the an EKG started spiking and falling, numbers appeared at the “BLOOD PRESSURE” section, there was some brain activity chart i didn’t understand, and also a chart that I believe measured my breath? 

Before I could even process what was going on with each of the readings, big red letters appeared on the screen. 

TERMINATION: 3

“Wait what?!” I shouted, my voice muffled by the suit. 

TERMINATION: 2

“What does that mean?!”

TERMINATION: 1

“Am I gonna die?!” 

… when the number hit zero, there was a sudden and sharp pain in my chest, making me flinch. In that moment there was nothing. I didn’t see or hear anything. I didn’t think. I couldn’t acknowledge myself. I wasn’t there… I was completely gone. 

“Rᴇʙᴏᴏᴛɪɴɢ.” There was a robotic monotone voice, and suddenly I was aware again. My head shot up abruptly. Through my peripherals I could see that my arms and legs snapped to a stiff posture, and my back was straight. But… I couldn’t feel them at all. I tried to move from the position I was standing in but I found I couldn’t move or feel my arms or legs. Everything was completely numb. And then I saw the vitals in front of my eyes. I had no pulse. The breadth readings weren’t there, and my blood pressure was listed as N/A. And at the top, of the screen, were the words: READINGS: NORMAL. The vitals then disappeared, and I could see through my visor clearly. 

“Cᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴄɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ.” The monotone voice spoke again. And that was when I noticed the monotone voice was my own, and I was saying these things against my will. I felt absolutely nothing. My heart didn’t speed up and I didn’t feel my stomach twinge or churn. My mind buzzed with thoughts like “oh my god oh my god” and “what the hell what the hell?!” But emotionally, I felt nothing. My thoughts matched what i would have felt in the past but I didn’t have an emotional connection to these thoughts.

Then my body marched forward on its own. One leg and one arm snapped outward simultaneously, not bending at the knee when I took a step. And then the other. And then this robotic motion was continued until I passed through the door and walked up to a metal table beside a metal chair, and then my body dropped suddenly to sit down in the chair, and pulled itself to face forward in a quick snapping motion. The room was lit about the same as the other rooms, however above the table was a bright light that accented only the table And those who sat there.  Across from me there was a drone whose helm had green markings on it, and had the features of a German shepherd. There was a dim animation of a green spiral on its visor. Then I read the numbers on its chest: GD-001. Just like in the video. 

“AQ-320, Tʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴊᴏɪɴɪɴɢ Cᴜᴍᴜʟᴜs,” It said. “Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ?” Its voice was deep and despite its mechanical articulations, its voice was gentle. My lungs did not move that whole time, but when I went to speak, my chest expanded.

“Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪs?” I asked, my voice monotone. I wanted to see the one in charge. I didn’t know what I would do, if I would beat them up or demand answers, or what, but I knew this wasn’t right and I needed to see them. 

“Nᴏ I ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ. I ᴀᴍ ᴏꜰ ʜɪɢʜᴇʀ ʀᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ I ᴀᴍ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀ.”

“Wʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ?” 

“Nᴏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡs.” 

I seriously expected GD to respond with “classified” or something like that… The way they gave such a human response there made me think they were more human than initially thought. I knew if I could still feel anything: I would feel I some empathy for them. I would feel sad that this fate I have been subjected to for less than an hour has been their reality for… I’m not sure how long. 

“Wʜʏ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ I ᴍᴏᴠᴇ? Wʜʏ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ I ꜰᴇᴇʟ? Wʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ?” 

“Yᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ,” They said,  “Bᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟsᴏ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ. Nᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴄᴇʟʟs ᴀʀᴇ ᴠɪᴛᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴅɪᴇ. Yᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴘᴜʟsᴇ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ʙᴀᴛᴛᴇʀʏ. Yᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴏꜰ TENS ᴜɴɪᴛs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰʟᴇx ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴜsᴄʟᴇs. Aꜰᴛᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ TENS ᴜɴɪᴛs ᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ.”

I shook my head. None of it made sense to me, and one question kept repeating in my mind. I tried to shout it out: ‘why… WHY?!?!’ trying to seep my desperation into my voice, but it still came out monotone. 

“Wʜʏ. Wʜʏ.“ 

“AQ-320,” They began “ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴇɴsᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏs ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ. Iᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴜᴛᴇ. Iᴛ ɪs ᴇᴀsɪᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪs ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴɪɴɢ, ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ.” And then it did something that I didn’t expect. Something that surprised me so much, for a brief moment I felt a chill down my spine, a lump in my throat, and real sadness in my heart. It reached across the table and gently touched my hand. 

“… Tʀᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ.” 

I stared at the canine figure in front of me. We were drones, both of us, but maybe whatever ‘drone’ meant wasn’t what I thought. Maybe there was still room to be me, and also room to be AQ-320. I wasn’t content with my disposition, but I now knew that I wasn’t alone. I attempted to nod in recognition, but I found I still couldn’t move. 

“…ᴏᴋᴀʏ,” I replied. 

Its hand snapped backward to its side. At first I was offended but then realized it probably had no control over whether it wanted to do that. 

“Aɴʏ ꜰᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs?” GD-001 asked. 

So many, I thought. But too many right now. 

“Nᴇɢᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ,” I stated. 

“AQ-320, ʙᴇɢɪɴ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ.”

My body snapped into a standing position, and once again it began robotically marching by itself, past GD-001 toward the door that was sliding open at the end of the room. 

“Nɪɢʜᴛʏ-ɴɪɢʜᴛ,” GD-001 said. I could see its reflection in the shiny wall waving at me.

When I crossed the threshold of the final room, the door slid behind me. The room was dark but there was a soft purple light that filled the entire room, making it feel cozy. Inside the room there was a big bed without a blanket, a pillow, and a night-time hat. My hands shot outward, picked up the night time hat, and put it over my bunny ears. Then, my body went stiff and flopped on top of the bed, my head resting on the pillow. 

And so it began. One moment I was staring at the blank ceiling, the next moment I was staring at a pink and purple spiral in my visor. Two similar pitches rang in inside my helmet, causing a waving dissonance. At first the spiral and the tone didn’t do anything; I felt completely normal. But then the spiral became harder to look at, harder to understand. My own thoughts became harder to understand, and they became harder to form. Happiness washed over me and I felt my lips curl into a smile. I tried to stop, but my face then was frozen in place. 

I knew this feeling of joy was bad; it was insidious and was being used to control me, so I tried to suppress it, but it was the best I had felt so far during my time at Cumulus… so I had to just let it wash over me… at a certain point I didn’t want to resist the happiness, and I didn’t know why I did. There were low whispers and mutterings of thoughts in my head. They didn’t come from the visor or from the speakers but I knew these thoughts weren’t my own, so I tried to resist them. But then my mouth began moving on its own.

“Oɴʟʏ ᴄᴜᴍᴜʟᴜs.. mmmm… H-ʜᴀ…hʜhʜᴀᴘᴘʏʏʏ…”

The thoughts got louder and more persistent.

“Oʙᴇʏ… no- Dʀᴏɴᴇ… uhhh… ᴍ-ᴍ-ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ.” 

And then something clicked, and these intrusive thoughts and my own mind became one. 

“Oɴʟʏ ᴄᴜᴍᴜʟᴜs ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴍᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ.

I ᴀᴍ ᴀɴ ᴏʙᴇᴅɪᴇɴᴛ ᴅʀᴏɴᴇ

I ᴏʙᴇʏ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ.

Mʏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ sʜᴀᴘᴇs ᴍʏ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ.” 

I kept repeating that over and over again, feeling calmer and calmer the more I repeated it, thinking less and less the more I did, and forgetting more and more. The more I said it, the more it became true, and the less I cared. 

I was in the middle of repeating my programming again, when a robotic voice interrupted me. 

‘Iɴɪᴛɪᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴇsᴛ ᴏɴᴇ.’

I fell silent. Text appeared on the screen in front of the spiral. 

YOU ARE A BUNNY

My mouth shut and my eyes widened, and I shot upward into a sitting position. I didn’t know what those words meant but I felt them and I believed them with all my heart. And then an image of a carrot appeared in front of the spiral. My mouth watered. Craving and hunger and excitement overwhelmed me. I grinned and picked up my hands, letting them flop forward in front of me. The rubber tail on the back of my suit shook. I wiggled my nose some more. 

Then the carrot swung back and forth in front of the spiral, and my eyes followed it, and my tongue lulled out of my mouth as it did. I was overwhelmed with both joy and confusion. The more I watched the carrot and the spiral, the less I thought, and the more I gave into Cumulus’s programming. And eventually my eyelids grew heavy and it was hard to keep an upright posture. I began swaying as I fought sleepiness, wanting to keep watching this entertaining video in my visor, wanting to keep being a bunny and wanting to keep obeying. But then a new word appeared on screen. 

DROP

Once again, I didn’t understand the word, but my body followed. I slumped forward, my head dropping and my arms falling limp. And then one word kept flashing on the screen over and over. 

FORGET

FORGET

FORGET

This tranced state, this programming, had burrowed its way into my mind. I forgot without resistance and without question. I fell backwards, lying down once again, relishing this happy state of mind that was made for me, and obeying the command over and over again, allowing the visor to guide me into creating a new me… a better me… 

I love Cumulus.

I love my job.

I love to obey.

I am a drone.

My mind is devoid of thought.

My mind is clouded with calm.

My mind is clouded… 

Cumulus…

[quodekash]

my engineer incorrect quotes to try and fill the ramking shaped hole in my heart

—- —-

King: Hey Ram, can you give me the opposite of these words? King: Always, Coming, From, Take, Me, Down. Ram: Never, Going, To, Give, You- Ram: The fucking satisfaction. 

(this happened. this was the scene near the start where king texts ram and waves to him and tries to talk to him and ram picks up his phone and leaves to go see his brother. king loves rickrolling and thats canon because i said so)  —- —-

Duen: I wouldn’t put it in those words exactly. Ram: Why not? Duen: Because I don't know what they mean. 

—- —-

King: Hey, what’s your Netflix password? Ram: ihopeyoudie King: Thank you!

—- —-

Duen: I drink to forget but I always remember. Ting: You're drinking orange juice. 

—- —-

King: Ow! Ram: What’s wrong? King: I have this weird pain right above my eyebrow. Ram: It’s called a stress headache. I got my first one when I was four.

—- —-

Thara, after getting a library card: Now I know what true power feels like. 

—- —-

Ram: If I die, you can have what little I own. King: Wait. What do you mean "if" you die? Ram: My unending existence is fuelled by pure spite, that of which the painful experiences of life have rendered me full. King: King: *Sighs* Let me call your therapist again. 

—- —-

Ram: Hey, you want a tarot reading? Bohn: Those are Pokemon cards. Ram: You got a magikarp. Bohn: … Ram: It means 'fuck you'. 

(this is essentially what happened for like. half the show. up until the end of the fight between bohn and ram) —- —-

Ram, after watching King get shot by someone: You’re dead. You are very dead. When you are a corpse I will hack away at your flesh and eat you raw. King: Ram, I’m not dead yet. Ram: Let me have my moment of rage to avenge you. King: I’d prefer it if you didn’t let me die. 

—- —-

*Everyone is giving advice to Duen* Ting: It's okay to ask for help. Tang: You're not a burden. Ram: Murder is okay. Phu: Your feelings matter. 

—- —-

King: Are you sure Ram's even gay? He barely even looked at me. 

—- —-

Duen: All snacks are gone. Bohn: I AM LITERALLY RIGHT HERE?! 

—- —-

Ram: You’re drunk. King: Correction: drinking. Present tense. Grammar, Ram. 

—- —-

Mek: Have I ever told you that you cook well? Boss: Awww, no, you haven't! Mek: So why do you keep cooking? 

—- —- Ram: You’re giving me a sticker? King: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!” Ram: I’m not a preschooler. King: Fine, I’ll take it back- Ram: I earned this, back off! 

—- —- King: We just ate. Why are you making pancakes? Ram: For the dogs. King: Why are you making pancakes for the dogs? Ram: They don’t know how. 

—- —-

this one is fairly short compared to my other incorrect quote compilations, but i promise, i will be back. 

also im planning to post another eclipse incorrect quotes post in like five minutes 

[hermitdrabbles56]

Twilight is secretly the one who has the book obsession. :)

Twilight had been seat for all of two seconds, tucked up against a tree with his bag at his side when he found himself with a lap full of colorful clothes.

Four had been staving off a headache since they portal jumped that afternoon, and it looks like the beast with and anvil the hammer was winning.

So Twilight just gives a soft hum and rubs his head a slight bit. "How bad?"

"Ow.."

"Okay...what do you need?"

The smallest hero waists no time in getting comfortable. Curled up in the farmers lap like it's a perfectly built nest and making grabby hands for the wolf pelt still resting on on the bigger males shoulders. So with a soft chuckle he carefully undoes the clips holding it in place and pulls it off. Ploping it over four who practically purrs, hanging onto the fluffy bundle like it's a stuffed animal and burying his face in the soft fur.

"Do you want silence, or a distraction?"

"Distraction please....can you read?" Four mumbles into the fur.

He gives a soft chuckle. "Apparently headaches give you mind reading abilities, anything in particular you'd like too hear?"

"Not smart..brain can't handle the thinking."

Twilight gives another chuckle and starts reaching into his bag. Ever greatful for the magical thing as he starts digging around for the right bundle. "Perfect, I actually just picked up some new books."

"...didn't you pick some up last time?" Legend questions as he looks over.

"Yeah, but already read them and these had some new stories." Twilight grins.

"Shouldn't...we not be picking up books? For you know...timeline sakes?" Warriors questions carefully.

"Let's be real Timelines fucked! Go crazy go stupid." Wild announces unabashedly.

"Well..I wouldn't say fuck...hmm." Time stops mid sentence and contemplates his words for a moment. "Yeah no..no it's fucked.."

Wind just about snorts his water and is left in a laughter filled coughing fit as he topples off his log.

"Okay okay but like, still, how have you already gone through the last batch of books?? You got like five of them in my world!" Legend questions as he turns his attention back to Twilight.

"I read on my watches when I'm not doing something else!"

"We were in my world only a few weeks ago!"

"Soo??? Most of them were informal texts anyways those are fairly easy to breeze through." Twilight says with a shrug.

"You actually read informational stuff..?" Hyrule questions with a tilt of his head.

"Ehh, only certain things really but yeah! It's fun to learn new things."

"You'd like his herbology books they're super helpful." Wild pipes.

"..mm....speaking of when brain working again I wanna borrow that blacksmithing book you found when we went too Wilds hyrule." Four murmurs from under the wolf pelt.

"Which one?" Twilight asks with the tilt of his head.

"The old one...?"

He lets out another small chuckle. "Again which one?"

"..it's green?"

"Oh that one!"

"How many do you have!?" Warriors questions further.

"He has sooo many." Four mumbles as he looks over at the captain.

"How many is so many?" Sky finally pipes up.

"Bet its not as many as Legend!" Wind giggles now that he can breathe again.

"Oh no. It's worse." Legend admits.

"It's not that bad is it?" Twilight questions.

"There's no way it's that bad." Warriros deadpans.

"He could fill a royal library...granted thats with the extensive collection he has at his house but with the two combined someone could drown." Legend says right back in the same flat tone.

"Okay now that's an exaggeration." Twilight frowns.

"Okay but seriously how many do you have..?" Hyrule asks as he crawls over to him and Four.

"Mmmmmm..."

Reaching into his bag again Twilight starts pulling them out, by the bundle. They're all carefully organized held together by leather straps made specifically for carrying books. Though some are just bundled with twine.

There's herbology, agriculture, culture in general, blacksmithing plants and animals and even books on things the rest of them are interested in as well as many more. And of course, various story books both big and small. Even some that look like they've never properly been published.

Overall once the majority is layed out Twilight gives a sheepish little chuckle while rubbing at the back of his neck.

"See? It's not that bad."

[everythingeverywheresblog]

Stars and Migraines - Chapter six

Chapter six

I haven't posted here in MONTHS so here's Chapter One for those who have no idea what is going on.

Sydney's POV

Red. All I ever see is red. Red shirts, red caps, red flags with the prancing horse on them. Italy is quite a thing.

Imola, round four of the Championship with a whopping 100% success rate for Daniel and a car that's been giving a headache to the other teams in every Free Practice session of the weekend.

Everyone is walking around the garages and motorhome with a smile on their faces, myself included. Even if my fingers shake every time I see Zak Brown, or if my heart rate picks up when he looks over Daniel and I--with whom I have kept the contact very minimal.

Yet there's a smile on my face. Because the team is first in the Constructors standings and our drivers occupy the first and third place in the Drivers standings.

Imola is the last race before F1 takes a semi-break of a relaxing three weeks. It’s also the first time in the five years I’ve been working in this field that I honestly cannot wait to get back home.

The situation with Daniel is calmer. He doesn’t lash out on me anymore. Well, we barely even talk outside of work-related stuff, so he doesn’t really get the chance to. But we have ridded Zac’s and the media’s attention away from us, something that eases me up a bit.

“Mr. Ricciar—”

“Daniel. Please.” His interruption startles me, certainly not expecting him to still be so caught on with that.

“Alright...Well, Media’s supposed to be more chill, I guess, with us this weekend, so you’ll probably get a breather.”

Daniel nods, but the way his eyes hold no life in them makes me believe he’s not actually paying attention to what I am saying—he is really testing me right now. But I have four days left. Then the Californian sun will beam down on me, and the stress will just be a distant memory. “Anyways, you and Lan will do the Fan Zone after the Ferrari boys and then we have to film some bits for Unboxed and a…”

MOM: Don’t get worried but dad had a mild heart attack last night. Everything is good now, he’s just staying in the hospital for a couple of days.

My breath gets caught in my throat. Air stops going in and out of my lungs. My head gets foggy and just for a second, I swear I will pass out.

Dad?

“Sydney?” I can hear his voice. “Sydney? You okay?” Yeah, he’s here, he’s talking but I can’t really lookup from my phone and no words are coming out of my open mouth.

I keep reading, and reading, and reading the text I just got from my mother.

He’s in the hospital.

Heart attack.

My dad had a heart attack.

Suddenly I feel contact on my jaw and in half a second, I am looking into Daniel’s honey-brown eyes.

“Did you get lost?”

His tone is somehow soft and concerned at the same time, but a chuckle at the end of the question shows me the joking element in his question.

And then suddenly, it dawns on me that I am at work. I rip my face off from Daniel’s fingers and check the time on my phone’s screen. My eyes widen and in a flash I grab the work phone, my notebook and Daniel’s hand and attempt to run towards the Fan Zone.

“Woah, woah. Where are we going? You didn’t answer my question!”

I try to drag him through the motorhome’s hallways, but he’s way too strong, and I am so not, so we don’t move very far.

“We’re late. Work first, questions after.”

“You promise?”

- - - - - - -

He felt the impact from behind. He saw the wall coming. He anticipated the hit. But when it came to it, the pain shocked the air out of his lungs.

He couldn’t move for a while—hours it felt like. Daniel could hear the mechanics roaring in his ear but it seemed impossible to hit the radio button and speak to them.

His body buzzed in complain, it felt like his head would explode and he could barely keep his eyes open.

And the only thing that played like a broken record in rhythm with his speeding heart was simple.

There go 25 points off the Championship.

- - - - - - -

Sydney’s POV

He was leading the race, very comfortably. Charles who was about fifteen seconds behind him on second place was too busy trying to fend off Lando to even think about trying to get to Daniel. The race had about five laps to go, and everything seemed to be doing idyllically for the papaya boys.

Until Sergeant decided to fight Daniel off turn seven. He decided to ignore the blue flags waving at him and instead of letting the McLaren pass, Logan took it upon himself to be the first backmarker to fight for P1.

And with both drivers not letting up, the contact was inevitable.

Only Logan managed to shake it off and finish his race on a wonderful last place, after the ten-second-stop-go penalty he received for ignoring blue flags and causing a collision.

Seeing Daniel walk away from the car was a heavenly relief. My heart could barely cope with witnessing the crash. I don’t know how I’d react if he didn’t make it out on his two feet. The two minutes of pure, terrifying silence on his end before he answered to his engineer were torturous for everyone, including me.

After he made it to the pits after the necessary medical check-ups and talked a bit with everyone, he was dismissed to his driver’s room. I was advised not to approach him any time soon, as his media duties were minimized after such incident.

So I watched Charles win the race in front of the tifosi, Lando take second and Max come third, filmed some content with Lando and head straight to my hotel.

I was not used to seeing such crashes. And knowing that someone I…well, kind of cared about was involved in something like that, just, scared the shit out of me. My thoughts could only go to my brother who was fighting to get where Daniel and everyone in the grid are right now and…

I texted my brother and let him know I loved him. He replied with a thumbs up. It was enough for me.

Then my eyes lingered over another contact I only had because of my job, and only used for my job.

Daniel McLaren

Of course I wanted to text him. Especially after I didn’t see him at all after the crash. He might cause me multiple migraines over the week, but it was still Daniel.

Sorry if I’m bothering. I just wanted to see if you’re alright after today.

It’s Sydney, by the way.

The double text made me cringe, but I rather have that than a “Who is this?” sent my way.

But his answer was way worse than that.

No. Can you come to my hotel?

- - - - - - -

Hope you enjoyed!

[safyresky]

Sorry for the late hour but here are some questions! For the ask thing!

I could've literally asked for all the questions to be answered but here's just a few. Please and thank u

54 / 40 (for no reason at all 🤫)/ 39 / 16

I am a cretura of the night, Andie! No worries about the late hour EVER lol ;)

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Oh I like this one! Let me think! Hmm! You know what's fun? Bullet points! And readmores which I will do. uh. now

Cold front hugs! Specifically the mindscape one in Chapter 6, and the pair of them leaning on one another on the way out of the pond @ the Springs in Chapter 23 of CS! Which yes, isn't a hug, but is a cute Cold Front moment

Winter grabbing Blaise's lapels in Chapter 11 while he has a whole ass crisis >:)

The fucking. (breaks window) Blinter: were those our kids? Jack: SCATTER scene lmaooooooo (from Chapter 22 of CS)

The twins doing one of these (see photo below) on the backyard deck stairs before asking Summer to play fire tag with them

^like that, but like. on all fours. with Fino squashing Fiera lmao

Honestly there's so many scenes I'd love to get fanart of/draw/EXPERIENCE but those are the ones that pop into the head IMMEDIATELY! And that's just CS, AH!. The family photo from Jacqueline Dies pt2 would ALSO be a lovely fanart to see! I actually did a shit doodle of it last week just for funsies:

My god it's so LONG. Sorry about that! anyway!

54. What’s your favourite part about the fanfiction writing process? Shoving an OC or two or five into the story and see how it goes >:). that and uploading a draft and reading it through one last time. That's exciting! I love that part! It's time consuming but I LOVE IT. It's like. THE ANTICIPATION

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

I should like. Assign these wips to numbers and start rolling dice about it. Um. OKAY! From smile shot wip "Believing is Seeing"

“Is it Grapes of Wrath?” “Yes! It actually was! Nice guess, Dite.” Dite and Xander lay on his dream cloud, just behind the chimney of Danielle’s house. Jacqueline snoozed still, curled up on Dite’s thigh. The goddess had lain back; her arms were behind her head as she gazed up at the sky, watching the clouds drift by. On the other side of the cloud, Xander lay on his back as well, one leg dangling, the other one bent at the knee as he read a book. “Alright, I got one. Two exes meet up again after a few years; shenanigans ensue, they still both have it bad for each other. Best slow burn I have ever read.” “Persuasion?” “Awh, you got it on the first go!” Xander laughed. “It’s supposed to be a misleading summary, Dite.” “I just really love Persuasion. It’s one of my favourite books! When Wentworth writes that letter? I just. Ugh,” Dite finished with a happy sigh. “It’s good.” There was a grumble between the two Legates; Dite perked up, sitting up gently. “Hi sleepy head,” she said with a grin. Jacqueline sat up, scrunching up her nose. “That was not four hours.” “Almost twelve, actually,” Xander said. “Dream sand may have had a hand in it.” Jacqueline scratched her neck and stretched her shoulders, shaking her freshly thawed hair off her face. “I didn’t melt all over you, did I?” “You did, but I don’t mind! It was just a little damp, no biggie.” “What’s the status?” “Quiet day,” Xander said, flipping his page. “They’ve stayed in for the most part. Left for errands a while ago, not back yet. Danielle’s still feeling hopeful, though.” “And she’s been meaning to text Charlie all day!” Dite said, chipper. “Can we get closer?” Jacqueline asked. “Why’d we move from the window?” “She ran to it right when she woke up and we were almost caught,” Xander said, flipping another page. “You snore.” “The fuck I do.” “You do,” Dite said. “But it’s cute snores! Like um, like every third breath is a snore.” “A honk sho or a mimimi?” “A weird cross between both.” Jacqueline looked thoughtful, then shrugged. “I can vibe with that. Side note, love that we can swear right now. Feels good, feels wholesome,” she said, hopping off of the cloud and onto the roof. “What are you doing?” Xander asked, putting down his book. “Getting closer! This one’s her room?” Xander nodded. “Quiet, though!” “I thought nobody was home?” “Her sister is.” “Alright, I can be quiet,” Jacqueline said, and, with a little hop, disappeared into thin air. “What is she doing?” Xander asked, trying to find her magical aura. Dite peered over the cloud with Xander. She surveyed the roof, then swatted Xander gently. “Right there, look; fast moving trail of frost headed down the drain pipe. She’s being sneaky,” Dite said with a grin. Xander chuckled. “Nice.” In the distance, car doors slammed and chatter met their ears. Danielle and her Mom had gotten back from their errands and were chatting up a storm. “Things are picking up again!” Dite said with an excited squeal. “We’re almost there, Xander!”

The summary of this one: Charlie tells Danielle about what his Dad REALLY does. Trouble in paradise has Dite on ALERT; determined, she hatches a lil plot and drags Jacqueline and Xander along for the ride. It's been fun to write! This trio of Legates is my fave lmao. They get into situations, and it's tripled when Charlie hangs with them!

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

Honestly? Too many! If I had to count, excluding wips, it'd be uh....eight, I think 🤔🤔🤔

My favourite one right now is Diteline Valentine's Day featuring Diteline kiddos! Dite's working and Jacqueline gets the day off. There is a cuddle puddle after Dite leaves for work. The kids ask Jacquie about what Diteline used to do on VDays before kids. Jacquie tells them all about their romance and such and says that every day is VDay with the four of them for her! They decide they wanna do something nice for their moms despite Jacquie's reassurance. Shenanigans ensue!!! Robyn wears a blanket cloak! Eira/Bianca didn't sleep! Joy has been awake for hours bc Valentine's Day! It's a recipe for disaster!

thanks for sending these in 🥰🥰🥰

[robin-the-blind-sniper-rifle]

An excerpt from my Ronance/Steddie Demon AU, “Is The Devil So Bad? (If She Cries In Her Sleep)”

“Nance, this is bad.”

Nancy looked up, her heart shuddering at the genuine fear in Eddie’s eyes. “What is it?”

Eddie had an old, tattered book from the Archives in his hands. His pointed tail flicked with anxiety, his yellow gaze dark with concern. “If you don’t at least visit this human, lay eyes upon them within a fortnight of falling, you’re screwed.”

She growled, irritated. “I know, Eddie, I’ll lose-“

Eddie snapped. “It’s more than just a stupid job, Nancy! If you don’t at least look at them…you’ll both die.”

That was a new development.

Nancy stood, yanking the book away from Eddie. “Where does it say that?”

“Hey, this thing is fucking ancient! Don’t yank it around like it’s some stupid toy, it’ll fucking fall apart!”

Nancy scowled. “And I suppose these Dorito stains got here from thousands of years worth of demon history?”

Eddie blushed, as much as a demon could. “I needed it for science the other day.”

“If by “science” you mean “picking the cheese dust out of your talons onto the pages while looking at naked men” I’m seriously not interested.”

“Just read the page asshole.”

Nancy turned the tattered book around to face her, leaning down to look at the text. Unfortunately, Eddie was right on this one.

“If the demon and mortal in question do not lock eyes within a fortnight of the first sighting, both will perish and meet their own untimely ends.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Yeah, “fuck.” What are you going to do?”

Nancy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her talons. “I guess make a trip to Earth. No matter how stupid it is.”

“Wait, can I come?”

“Why?”

“I need more Doritos.”

“That sounds like a lie.”

“Believe me, it’s not. Only good thing to come out of Earth.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just don’t look at me to bail you out when you pull some shit that gets you in trouble. I’m not doing it again, not after last time.”

“That was a fucking accident okay? How was I supposed to know that they don’t jump off super high shit up there? I didn’t even know those glass things were buildings!”

Nancy let herself relax slightly, playfully shoving his shoulder. “We don’t do that here either, Munson.”

Eddie stood up from where he was stretched out, glaring at her. “I don’t fucking know why we have different last names. We all come from the same dude.”

Nancy shut the Devil’s Archive as gently as she could, slotting it gently back in place on the night black shelf. “It’s because we’re all products of millions of different dead succubi, you know this, Eddie. We were bred for a purpose, not to be raised as humans.”

He stopped in front of her, pausing at the door. “When did you get so cynical, Nance?”

She sighed, not wanting to have this conversation again on top of the new mess they were in. “It’s our job to be cynical. Someone has to be, not everyone can spend their existence happy. I was born this way, Eddie.” Nancy swallowed a lump in her throat. “And so were you.”

Eddie looked back at her, his golden eyes shining with an emotion Nancy couldn’t place. “That doesn’t mean that’s the way things have to be. I thought you knew better than that.”

Nancy flared her wings, their bright ruby red catching on the flames outside the Archive windows. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Shouldn’t we be worrying about whether or not I’m going to die within the next twenty four hours?”

Eddie flicked his tail against her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I totally need you in my life, couldn’t live without you. Besides, I want those Doritos, thank you very much.”

She laughed, baring her fangs in affection at him. “Let’s go before you break something, you’re already past your personal record of five minutes.”