#yeah expect more things to come soon I just can’t post anything but doodles right now

[thegreateventof1928]

IT HAS BEEN AGES. And I apologize for that. I’m in coleg :')

I have a lot of stuff going on so I haven’t been interacting as much or as active as I should be-

I’m taking an animation class this semester! While it’s 3d animation, I still think it’ll help a lot ^v^”

To my mutuals, or anyone I was actively speaking to, I keep coming and going and I’m sorry- I just can’t focus on anything LMAO

I hope everyone is well, I will not be tagging anyone because they don’t need that :P

I can, however, bring new art! And a new layout coming soon!

Be ready for PLOT, MORE CHARACTERS, and… MORE ART, ANIMATIONS, and COMICS

I was not able to fix my tablet, so we’re stuck with this type of style for now- stay with me while I work through these technical difficulties (and school).

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ too scared to say ]

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader

word count: 1.6k words

contains: slight angst, tsukishima with insecure!s/o cause he’s usually the insecure one in fics, another wedding-themed fic

a/n: had this idea for a while and i’m glad i’ve finally written it. it’s usually tsukki’s who’s insecure and guarded in xreader fics so i wanted to try it out with the reader being insecure this time

i love you.

you're caught off-guard when you hear the words from tsukishima's mouth. you never thought you'd ever hear him actually say them. as much you wished for it to happen, especially after you spent three years of high school doodling his name in the margins of your notebook, it feels too good to be true.

tsukishima looks sincere about it though. you're both seated on the couch in your apartment and even though it's pouring outside and the electricity had died, you can still make out his face in the dim lighting. you can tell it took him a great deal of effort to say that: his eyes are focused on the cushion on his lap as he picks at a stray thread, the sound of his breathing is more audible now as he inhales deeply.

this is the time where you say it back but the words catch themselves in your throat. after all, weren't you the one who got yourself into trouble for being too naive all the time? after leaving high school and all hopes of tsukishima ever liking you back behind, you tried your hand at relationships. you thought every single one of them would be your last, only to find that you had deluded yourself yet again.

meeting tsukishima again, years after high school, felt like a weird universal coincidence that you didn't know if you should thank for yet. even more so when he admitted to his feelings for you back then.

"so, what do we do about it now?" you asked.

"i'd... like to give this a shot," tsukishima said, rubbing the back of his head. you were reluctant, but agreed anyway.

you've said 'i love you' before, more than a few times. and yet, you couldn't say it now.

"aren't you... jumping to conclusions a bit?" you asked, nervously letting out a laugh.

"what do you mean?" tsukishima frowns slightly.

"just, saying that you might not be sure about that yet so... slow down a bit before saying things like that," you shrugged.

"what? you think i don't know my own feelings?" tsukishima scoffs. there's a look of hurt on his face and you can't exactly blame him for it.

"i'm sorry, tsukki," you apologize, resting your hand in the middle of the couch between you except he doesn't reach for it.

"it's fine," he shakes his head, focusing now on the wall in front of him. "i know you're not really the person you once were and, i don't mind that at all cause neither am i. sometimes, it really feels like you have a wall up."

you find yourself flinching slightly at that last part. maybe this is the part when things go south, like they always do. except, you feel sad that it had to happen with tsukishima too.

but he doesn't act like how you expect him to. "if you need time, it's fine with me," is all he says. tsukishima doesn't sound exasperated, nor frustrated at all. but he does stand up and head for the door.

'you can stay,' you think, 'please stay.'

but all you can bring yourself to say is: "take an umbrella. it's pouring outside."

...

that was about a week ago and tsukishima has barely heard from you then. he didn't know what else to do aside from give you space, and also silently regret things. maybe he was too hasty in saying that he loved you.

but, that was what he truly felt, and it wasn't easy for him to say but he did it anyway. 'you're not always losing anything when you open yourself up to someone,' akiteru had told him. and now, tsukishima was riding a bus on the way to his older brother's wedding.

he had just hung his tux on the curtain rod above the window and settled into his seat though when he caught a familiar flash of blue. of course, tsukishima would recognize your favorite dress and sat up in his seat to see you walking down the center aisle. he watched as you looked around for a seat before landing on the last empty one in the bus, which happened to be right next to tsukishima's.

"hey."

"hey," tsukishima swallowed as you approached.

"is this seat taken?" you asked.

"no, go ahead," tsukishima shook his head, his eyes distracted by the familiar dry-cleaners bag that you held in your hands. "let me help you with that," he offered, taking the hanger from your hands and hanging it up beside his tux.

“saeko nee-san invited me to the wedding,” you explained as soon as you sat down beside tsukishima. “congratulations to your brother, by the way.”

“thanks. we all, kind of saw it coming,” tsukishima chuckled. now that you were here, he realized just how much he missed you. 

“i’m sorry for not calling or anything, by the way,” you apologized. “i can’t say that this is all new to me but, it’s just... well... i’ve been in other relationships before and sometimes, it feels like things repeat themselves too much.”

tsukishima nodded, remembering the night when you two met again after so many years. he was working the counter at the bar and noticed you sitting there, obviously dressed up for a date, obviously stood up in that said date too. you were very much different from the young girl who used to invite him and yamaguchi to watch the latest romance movie theaters, the one who sang songs at the top of your lungs in your bedroom, loud enough for those downstairs to here. but that didn’t mean he liked you any less. 

“hey,” he laid a hand on top of yours. “why don’t we just enjoy today? you still love going to weddings, right?”

you smiled gratefully and chuckled. “yeah, that hasn’t changed.”

...

you fully expected to run into tsukishima at his own brother’s wedding and had thought twice about going before talking sense into yourself. and now, you were glad to have gone. 

the wedding was absolutely charming and more than a few of your old high school friends came. you and tsukishima were seated with yamaguchi and yachi at the same table and chatted about old times and what the volleyball duo was up to. saeko looked stunning in her dress and akiteru cried more than a few times during the ceremony. tsukishima looked proud of his brother, and more than a little tired of his new brother-in-law.

“they look really good together,” you sighed, smiling at akiteru and saeko who were breakdancing in the middle of the dance floor, the latter doing much better than the former. 

“yeah,” tsukishima chuckled. “they barely met each other in high school but i could tell nii-chan was star-struck when they met at the shiratorizawa match.”

“and now look at them,” you giggled. “kind of the opposite of us, in a way.”

“yeah, because you were definitely head over heels for me,” tsukishima snickered. you smacked his arm with the back of your hand.

“and you were too dense to realize it,” you countered. 

“not exactly. just thought it was too good to be true,” tsukishima smiled wryly. 

“we should have been accidentally locked into a room together to force us to admit our feelings.” 

“you and your romance movie cliches.”

you chuckled at that. “just saying. would have made things way easier for everyone.” you sighed again and remembered the confession letter you had penned to tsukishima before deciding to stash it away in your desk. then, you turned to tsukishima who was watching his brother and sister-in-law dance. 

maybe you were going to enjoy yourself tonight.

“hey, tsukishima?”

“yeah?”

“wanna dance with me?”

...

with the dancing and frequent visits to the wine bar, you ended up enjoying the wedding immensely. but as much as you didn’t want to, it was finally time to go home. you and tsukishima didn’t even bother changing out of your formal clothes before catching the last bus back home. your hair had escaped from its pins and you were definite that there was mascara smudged under your eye. tsukishima’s tie hung loosely around his neck and he had already unbuttoned the upper part of his shirt.

all of the dancing tired him out way more than you, but it was a pleasant surprise for him to comply with your request. you also had the wine to thank for tsukishima deciding to break dance for about a minute when his older brother asked him to. 

as soon as he was seated, tsukishima was out like a light with his head leaned back against the seat and his mouth slightly hanging open. looking at him, you realized that he was someone you didn’t want to let go. dating him was scarier because of that and you didn’t want tsukishima to be one of those people you were eventually going to say goodbye to.

but how could he be that person if you don’t ask him to stay in the first place?

once again, you remembered the confession letter that you had wrote to him all those years ago. there was a tremble in your hand when you wrote down the last line of that letter, so much that it screwed up the writing and you decided not to send the letter anyway. you glanced at tsukishima’s misty reflection in the fogged up glass of the bus before using your finger to write down that line.

i love you

the words looked like they were suspended in the air and fragile enough to be blown away by the wind. with a swipe of your hand, you could easily erase the message.

and that’s when tsukishima wakes up. 

his sleepy eyes travel from you to the message written on the window and his eyes widen when he realizes what you’ve written down. with a smile, he leans over, and writes a word right under your message.

i love you too

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

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[fbfh]

dating percy headcanons 2: electric boogaloo

~900 words

ask and you shall recieve uwu

Honestly what hits hardest about this boy is the idea of having all of his attention on you

Like he just looks at you and you can feel his passion so hard you take psychic damage

You are genuinely the entire focus of his world

You are his long term hyperfixation

It's almost,,, too powerful

But not quite lmao

He's just so…

……. 

Nice…..

To be around

And you get to be around him whenever you want

He has such a calming aura

It's like

Oh fuck that's what it is

Sidebar real quick

Air has positive ions and rain and other big bodies of water like the ocean or waterfalls have negative ions which help you feel calm and can actually give off a similar effect as antidepressants which is why a lot of  people like storms sm

Since he's yk

The son of the sea god 

He 10000000% has an aura of negative ions and it's almost impossible to feel stressed around him

Or if you do (yr feelings are valid) he helps you feel a lot better

His kisses are so nice

[Screen shot of let's discuss his kisses from part one radial blurred]

He has about a million and one ways to kiss you 

But here's some highlights

He loves wrapping his big ole arms around you 

Has a Nice 👌 dorito shape and these buff arms

Like all of them are buff from years of sword fighting and struggling to stay alive yk

But his specific arms hugging you

One around your waist, one hand on the back of your neck 

He makes you feel so at ease with him

His lips are always soft

Probably tastes like salt water taffy or coke

He loves surprising you with cheek neck kisses

If you're doing anything he'll just run up behind you 

Press a big big smooch just below your jawline 

And run off

You start trying to surprise him but unless you're pretty tall you can't reach lmao

Me

He sometimes just like

Holds you real close

A finger running over your cheek

The other hand probs resting under the hem of your shirt

He's staring, head kinda tilted and you know he's in full Admire mode

He kisses you really gently, only pulling away cause he smiles half way through 

Totally rests his forehead on yours after a kiss 

Speaking of, if you give him forehead or nose kisses

He actually short circuits from love and cuteness

He has a salty aura

Literally and figuratively 

Like if you stand a foot away from him and stick out your tongue you'll taste salt 

You make him smile way more than you'd expect 

He gives you a lot of those classic Fond Looks where he just has a little smirk and is smiling with his eyes and you can feel that you have all his focus and attention 

He doesn't get like super serious or anything but you find yourself having to break the tension more than you'd expected

He has really strong feelings which under the right circumstances,,

Usually during quiet moments,,,

He can get a bit I'd die for you

"I'm going to make sure you're always okay, Skittles, even if I die trying-"

"Ah, yes. I hear death by chocolate is the best way to go."

"???"

"Well, the only way I can think you would possibly die to ensure my happiness is by convincing Zeus to rain chocolate down on me, in which case you'd be right with me because there's no way I'm letting you miss a chocolate tsunami."

He starts to laugh then gets serious again 

"I mean, if it came down to it,"

"Worst case scenario?"

"Yeah-"

"Well worst case scenario, we'd both just eat our way out. We can handle a chocolate tsunami together, hands down."

You have him actually laughing now

You gotta keep him on his toes a little 

It can be really hard sometimes but you love surprising him 

It's hard bc he knows you so well that he can always tell when you're planning something 

What makes it worse is that he never lets on that he knows 

you love making him pre swim meet gift bags 

I'm talking snacks, fuzzy socks, those blue Gatorade chewies, a (matching) friendship bracelet, gum, notes in Greek, little doodles, Polaroids, a piece of paper with a lipstick/lip balm kiss

The whole nine goddamn yards

Always coming up with new ways to surprise him

Once you have him a jar of Hersheys kisses that said "kisses for when I'm not around"

He showed people photos of it cause he thought it was too adorable 

Every single person on the swim team is jelly of you two 

Percy brags about you all the time 

Talks about you so much you're surprised how much his teammates know about you

Before a big meet you got the whole team push pops in their favorite flavors  that said "push yourself! Good luck!" 

They all love you even more

You've learned from experience to bring an extra shirt to swim meets

Bc the first thing that this boy does as soon as he's out of the pool and able to is hug you so so tight

Neither of you care about how wet he is or how damp you get 

A collage of your top 5 cutest post swim hugs makes the yearbook and the school newspaper

Like I'm not saying he's the best boyfriend but yes I am

That's exactly what I'm saying 

[jackrrabbit]

Unprofessional [pt. 1] /// Yandere Tendou x f!Reader

Summary: The new hire you’re supposed to be training at your office job is a little too attached for his own good…or yours. [Part 2]

A/N: Someone requested yandere Tendou and I was like !!! However when I wrote it, it turned out kinda long so I split it into 2 parts; I’ll answer the req when I post part 2. Anyway I’m obsessed with the concept of salaryman Tendou, please enjoy!

Tags/warnings: yandere, timeskip (Tendou is 22-23 in this), workplace/office setting, liberal use of “senpai”, alcohol, Tendou’s crackhead energy is toned down a little bit because of the setting [In part 2: smut, 18+]

You don’t really like Tendou when you first meet him.

Your first impression when your boss introduces the new employee is that he’s all talk and no substance. He’s been hired fresh out of university, and he’s got the stink of a former frat boy all over him—that baseless enthusiasm, chaotic goodwill and arrogance mixed together. That might have been your type when you were still sucking down cheap keg beer from red solo cups, but you’re two years into your career as a real grown-up adult now, and the cockiness that radiates off Tendou in waves is just…annoying.

Unfortunately, when your boss tells you to take the newbie under your wing, train him, and be his mentor, it’s not a request. It’s a demand. So you decide to suck it up. If you’re going to have to spend every second at the office with Tendou trailing after you like a baby duck, you may as well get used to him.

After a few weeks, you have to admit he’s not that bad. Sure, he’s not the best at respecting personal space, but how can you blame him? When he looms over you to reach for a file above your head for the nth time and traps you between his body and the cabinet, you finally lose your patience and snap at him to give you some space, but he looks so surprised and apologizes so sincerely that you can’t help forgiving him. You feel a little bad, even, when he explains that he’s never worked in an office before so he’s not used to all the rules that he’s expected to follow in a professional environment.

You can’t really fault him for that, especially when you’re the one who’s supposed to be teaching him these things. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean anything,” you tell him, and he perks up so quickly that you feel even worse for chewing him out in the first place.

The thing is, Tendou doesn’t really stop getting close to you once you chastise him. It just bothers you less. The dozenth time his hand lingers over yours while you’re passing him a document or he picks an invisible thread off your blouse or sits a little too close when you’re riding in the back of a taxi to a client meeting, you start convincing yourself that you’re overreacting. He’s probably not being that much more pushy than your other coworkers—you’re just more aware of him because you don’t know him as well.

And it doesn’t help that he’s tall, towering over you and pretty much everyone else in the office. The cheap suits he cycles through can’t quite conceal the hard lines of muscle underneath—oh, whoops. Now you’re the one crossing boundaries. Tendou is so big that you’re just…more conscious of his presence, right?

This is drilled into you one night after a marathon overtime session when you’re carrying a tall stack of boxes back to the archives. Maybe it’s because you’ve been at work for 11 hours, but the files feel like they’re filled with rocks, not paper. Your muscles are this close to giving out when Tendou appears out of nowhere to pluck the files out of your arms. “Here. Gimme, gimme, I’ll take ‘em.”

The way he carries the heavy boxes so effortlessly makes you kind of embarrassed at how much you’d struggled with them. “You’re pretty strong, hm,” you say absently. Oops, was that inappropriate? You don’t want him thinking you’re hitting on him or something.

“Oh—yeah I guess?” Tendou’s laugh (the one that used to grate on your nerves) sounds like he’s pleased with himself. “I go to the gym a lot.”

“Wish I could find the time. Or the discipline,” you reply as he replaces the file box in the archive room.

“Wow, senpai is calling me disciplined. My heart is pounding.”

His tone is sarcastic enough that you don’t think twice about the second part of his statement. “Don’t get too full of yourself. If you have the energy to go to the gym, you should spend that time double checking your expense reports before you submit them.”

“Ouch.” Tendou holds his hand over his heart in mock betrayal. “Targeting my weak points, how ruthless. But seriously, working out is second nature to me. Been doin it since I was a kid so it doesn’t take any kinda discipline.”

“Oh? Did you play sports or something?”

“Yeah…” Tendou’s voice trails off and when you pause from your task of organizing the files to look up at him, he’s staring directly at you. “…Used to play volleyball. Grade school through college.”

The way he’s looking at you, searching your face for something you can’t identify, makes you think this is more important than it seems. You tip your head to the side, waiting for him to continue.

“Our team in high school was pretty good,” he says slowly.

“That’s cool,” you say, turning back to the paperwork. “Did you ever play Shiratorizawa? They’re my old high school—I think their volleyball team went to nationals back in the day. I was never into sports though.”

A moment passes, and you frown. Did you say something wrong? But just before you’re about to change the subject, Tendou starts laughing. “Shiratorizawa? No, I don’t think I ever played them.”

Your laugh joins his a second late, although you don’t know why he thinks it’s funny in the first place. In the echo of your voices, you can hear how quiet it is in the archives. There’s something here you’re missing, but you’re not sure what.

Luckily enough, the somewhat awkward atmosphere doesn’t carry over to the next day. When you get into the office, Tendou is his usual clingy self, distracting you from your own work to ask you to teach him something and pulling you away when you’re talking to your coworkers so you can double check his emails before he sends them. If anything, he’s more attached than usual—when you go to a contract renewal negotiation with a client he insists on tagging along, so you let him after making him promise not to get in the way.

Of course he doesn’t keep his promise, but you end up appreciating his intrusion more than you could have predicted. The client is stubborn and rude until Tendou chimes in (much to your dismay, at first) with an offer to add on some oddly specific perks to the contract. You’re already practicing your apology speech to the boss in anticipation of losing the client, but to your amazement he agrees to Tendou’s terms and the deal is sealed, along with a healthy bonus for you.

You’re on cloud nine, practically skipping out of the building with Tendou at your side as you fantasize about what you’re going to do with the bonus after you split it with him. A weekend vacation out of the city? An online shopping spree? Some fancy dinners at five-star restaurants? Knowing you, the money will end up going straight to your savings, but you still can’t contain your giddiness. “How did you know he wanted that add-on? Seriously, I had no idea!”

“A guess! I’m good at reading people.” Tendou’s just as elated as you, pumping his fist and whooping like a kid as soon as you’re away from the client’s earshot. “Woohoo! Yay! Our first sale together!”

“A guess? You risked that huge contract on a guess?” You roll your eyes but you’re too excited to be mad at him. “Anyway, you don’t have to say ‘our’ first sale, I know it was all you. I’ll tell the boss you’re doing a good job.”

“No way, it’s ours! Both of us. Me and senpai.” Tendou’s hand reaches down and his fingers lace with yours, squeezing so tight his knuckles go pale.

The thrill of your success flickers as nervousness sets in. Is he holding your hand? “Tendou—“

“Senpaiiiii~” he says in sing-song, swinging your hand as you walk to meet the taxi and ignoring your meek attempts to pull away. “Didn’t I do a good job?”

“Y-Yeah. Good job, Tendou.”

Work friends. The two of you are work friends. Your boss passes all comments to Tendou through you (mostly things about how he’s good with clients and charismatic but needs to stop making minor errors on paperwork). When one of you is sick, your coworkers ask the other to pass on their good wishes. Tendou fits into his role at the office seamlessly, and you can’t say you don’t appreciate the fact that all of his good work is reflecting well on you.

So when his birthday rolls around two months after he’s hired, it’s up to you to plan the office drinking party (only after he complains to you about how he doesn’t have any friends since moving to Tokyo). You have the date you got from Facebook—May 20th—circled in red pen on your private calendar along with a little doodle of a birthday cake.

“What’s that?” asks one of your coworkers, pointing to the circle, as you flip through your agenda a week before the event.

“Tendou’s turning 23,” you tell him. “It’s a Friday, so some of us are going to go to a restaurant and drink a little. You’re coming, right?”

“Oh…yeah.” Your coworker scratches his head and clears his throat. “You guys are pretty close, huh. Um, I actually wanted to ask—you’re not together, are you?”

A chill runs up your spine. “Together? Who said that?” If this rumor gets around to your boss it’ll kill your career. These things always look worse for the woman than for the man. God, it was probably something Tendou said without thinking, he’s always talking about you and someone could easily misinterpret all that praise…

“Well, if you’re dating—“

“We’re not dating,” you say quickly. “We do a lot of work together because I’m training him, but it’s not like that.”

“Really?” Your coworker straightens and smiles. “Cause I was actually thinking of asking if you wanted to go out this weekend—“

“Senpai? Can you help me with this draft?”

Damnit, it’s Tendou getting in the way at the absolute worst time—especially considering he just had to come up behind you and put his hand on your shoulder. Seriously, how many times do you have to tell him to stop doing that when you’re talking to someone else? You’re not sure whether to be irritated at him for cutting your coworker off, concerned that the other man won’t believe what you said about you and Tendou having a strictly professional relationship, or relieved that you don’t have to give an answer to what sounds like an offer for a date.

You cast an apologetic glance at your coworker and make your way over to Tendou’s desk, hoping against hope that the interruption doesn’t look too suspicious. You’d die if word got around to your boss that you were dating your mentee.

///

You’ve got this office drinking party thing down to an art. Step one is to load up on greasy appetizers that’ll increase your alcohol tolerance, step two is to drink plenty of water, and step three is to pour yourself a single drink early and take small sips.

There’s a step four, too: make sure no one else’s glass get’s below the 1/4 mark. Your boss and coworkers are a lot less receptive to how little you’re drinking when they’re all nice and tipsy. It’s a system you’ve perfected over the years, one that allows you to have fun with people from the office without risking making an ass out of yourself or getting a hangover (which, at 25, is a lot more unpleasant than it used to be).

You can’t count the number of times you’ve witnessed the awkward drunken escapades of your fellows, which range from the endearing (your boss crying over how much he loves his wife) to the awkward (coworker makeout sessions) to the potentially criminal (bar fights. So many bar fights). You’re happy to remain a neutral observer, and tonight is no exception.

The only problem is that Tendou hasn’t yet mastered the art of drinking lightly when you’re around people you work with, so now, at the end of his party, he’s (for lack of a better word) trashed. His cheek is mashed flat to the restaurant table like it’s glued there and his head is surrounded by progressive rings of bottles and cans. It’s some kind of miracle that he hasn’t yet gone to the bathroom to get sick.

“Sorry Tendou,” you sigh. “I should have been keeping a better eye on you.” You had no idea he’d get so drunk so quickly. Aren’t tall guys supposed to have high tolerance or something?

“Sssshenpaii,” Tendou slurs, hoisting his head off the table with that looks like Herculean effort. “I liiiike when…when ya look at me…”

“Ha, ha,” you say sarcastically.

Tendou’s head whips around. “Where’d everyone go?”

“They all left—now it’s time for us to go home too. Come on, I’ll help you get to the taxi.” You pay the bill (oof, there goes your petty cash for the week) and pull on Tendou’s shirt sleeve to get him to stand up. Luckily he’s just sober enough to realize what you want him to do and he follows you out to the street with an arm draped over your shoulders to steady his meandering footsteps.

The real trouble comes when the two of you are seated comfortably in the cab and the driver asks for Tendou’s address, which, apparently, he can’t remember. You do the sensible thing and look through his phone, but his own contact card provides no hint to where he lives in Tokyo, only a phone number, email, and address in Sendai which has to be his parents’ house—

Wait.

Tendou’s from Sendai?

You’re from Sendai. You didn’t know he was too. What a coincidence that both of you moved to Tokyo from Sendai. You’ve mentioned your hometown to him a couple times—how come he never told you he’s from the same place? You’re only two years older than him; maybe you’ve run across him in Sendai before the two of you started working together.

Now that you think about it, his face has always been kind of familiar…you thought it was just ‘one of those faces’, but…?

This isn’t the time to wonder, though. You poke Tendou gently in the side, careful not to jar him enough to risk any stomach upset. “Tendou? Do you remember what street you live on?”

After a long pause Tendou names a street, but it’s your company’s address which isn’t located anywhere near a residential district. When you tell him to think harder, he grimaces, lips pulling back to bare his teeth. “Don’ wanna go home…lemme sleep over at senpai’s house.”

“What? You can’t stay at my place.”

“Why noooot? ‘m tired,” he drawls, eyes closing as his head droops onto your shoulder in the back of the cab.

“It’s—it’s inappropriate—wait, no-no-no-no don’t fall asleep,” you tell him desperately but it’s already too late. A light snore filters out of him and you curse. “Tendou—“

“Address?” the cab driver barks insistently, giving you the stink eye in the rearview mirror.

Shit. Well, it is his birthday, you have a pull-out couch, and it’s not like anyone from the office is around to see you going home together. Tomorrow morning you’ll just have to give him a lecture about professional boundaries and make him promise not to breathe a word of this to your boss.

You give your own address to the cab driver. Tendou sleeps peacefully on your shoulder throughout the entire drive, rousing only when you whisper his name in his ear outside your building (which is a miracle, because you know without a doubt that you’re not capable of carrying him). When you get up to your apartment, you deposit him on the sofa bed and tell him not to look through your stuff while you brush your teeth.

Obviously, he doesn’t listen to you. When you emerge from the bathroom, Tendou is standing in the middle of your living room and turning the pages of an old photo album of yours.

“Hey, give me that.” You try to pull it away from him, but he doesn’t let go and his grip is stronger than yours, so the album remains firmly in his hands. “If you’re sober enough to mess with my things, you should go home.”

“This is senpai, right?” Tendou says, pointing to one of the photos.

Despite your exasperation, you lean in to take a look. It’s a picture from high school with you and some friends, all of you wearing your Shiratorizawa uniforms and grinning cheekily at whoever took the picture. Your fingers are cocked up in a peace sign. “Yeah? That’s me.”

“So cute…senpai is really cute…” Tendou’s long finger trails over the edge of your face though the filmy plastic covering the photo.

“Um…you need to get to sleep,” you say nervously, pulling a little harder on the album.

He doesn’t budge, instead just flipping back in the album to older pictures from when you were little until he stops at a photo of you and your younger brother in grade school. Against your better judgement, you frown and look closer to try and pick up whatever caught his interest in this particular image.

“How old…?” he asks.

“I don’t know, 10 or 11 maybe?”

Tendou nods. “When I met senpai…you were this old, yeah.”

“Jeez, you’re really drunk. We met two months ago, remember? I was on the interview board.”

“Yeah.” Tendou’s gaze is glued to the photo. “I was so sad, ‘cause senpai doesn’t remember me. But also really happy to see you after such a long time…I thought it was a dream…”

“Hm? I don’t get it.”

Tendou finally looks up from the picture and meets your wary gaze with those wide red eyes. God, you used to think his face was so creepy—lately you find his zealousness endearing, almost childlike, but right now? It’s making your feet itch how much you want to step away from him. “I was really hoping you would remember on your own, but I guess I’ll have to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“How me an’ senpai met…”

Are you imagining it, or does his voice sound a lot less slurred than it did just 20 minutes ago? “You’re not making any sense.”

“Shh, just listen…your little brother played volleyball when you were kids, didn’t he?”

How did he know that? You nod hesitantly.

“Yeah…he was in my grade. He was a bad kid, y’know that? Always saying mean things to me.”

It’s true. Your brother’s always had a mean streak in him.

“He used to call me a monster. ‘Cause, y’know—“ Tendou taps a finger against his face. “Guess I look weird. And my name, too. So he said he didn’t wanna play with me. Demons can’t play on human teams. Every day, saying cruel things. I really hated him.”

Monster. Volleyball. Your little brother. Tendou Satori like the mind-reading spirits from folklore. Something’s coming to mind, a memory you haven’t thought about in years—no, decades.

Your little brother making fun of another kid. A tall kid with red hair in a bowl cut.

“I-I remember,” you stammer. “I came to his practice one time and you were there, right? That bowl cut kid was you. I got mad at him for calling you names and I yelled at him. That’s when we met?”

“Correct!” Tendou’s beaming like you just told him he won the lottery instead of recalling a random fifteen-year-old memory. “You made him let me play! I got to get on the court, and block him, and see his beaten face looking up at me. All because of senpai.”

You can play this off, you think to yourself. Tell him you’re sorry for how your brother treated him. Ask him why he never told you that the two of you have met before. Say something. Anything. But your mouth is too dry to let you speak.

“And, you know…” Tendou’s voice softens and a light blush dusts his cheeks. “I thought you were so cool. I couldn’t believe you were related to that jerk. Can I…tell you a secret?”

No. Deep down you know what he’s going to say, and you don’t want to hear it.

Tendou’s hand comes up to comb through your hair, gently pulling through the delicate strands next to your face and tucking them back so he can lean in and whisper into your ear (even though there’s no one else around). “I like you, senpai.”

Stop it. Stop it. Your blood feels cold in your veins.

“I’ve liked you ever since then. I used to wish we were in the same grade so I could be your friend and talk to you every day. Whenever we were in different schools I missed seeing you in the halls and hearing your voice when you spoke to other people.”

“Stop...stop talking,” you whisper, but Tendou continues like he didn’t hear you.

“Why’d you have to go all the way to Tokyo for college? In my third year at Shiratorizawa I studied for your school’s entrance exam forever, but I didn’t get in. Was too busy with volleyball, I guess.” He pauses. “Oh, by the way, I went to Shiratorizawa. I lied about that, sorry. But—seriously, d’you have any idea how hard it was for me when you were away at university? Not seeing the person I love for six years?”

Love, he said. You feel nauseous. “Tendou, you don’t—“

“Let me finish, okay senpai? You don’t know how much I’ve been through. Always having to respect your ‘personal space’—“ he frames the phrase in mocking air quotes— “when I need to touch you so bad I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

And then he’s hugging you into his chest, crushing your torso into his. You struggle and try to get him to let you go, but Tendou is so much stronger than you.

“You’re not that different from your brother after all, are you?” he hums into your hair. “You’ve been torturing me. You know how you lean over my desk when you show me something on my computer? I can…see down your shirt when you do that. And I smell your perfume. I spent two hours at the mall trying all the different perfumes so I could find the right one…thought my nose was gonna stop working! But don’t laugh—“

You’re not laughing.

“—the salesgirl looked at me funny but I got it eventually. Chance Eau Fraiche, right? I can’t believe how expensive that stuff is, what is it made of gold? It was worth it though! I saw this news article about how smelling things in your sleep can trigger memories, so I tried spraying your perfume on my pillow before I go to bed and now I get to see you at work and when I’m dreaming—”

“STOP IT!” Your slap echoes across the room with a resounding crack. You’ve never hit anyone before in your life, but your aim is good enough to leave Tendou staring with a shocked expression off to the side and a bright red mark on his face. His arms fall down from you and you back away from him, clutching your hand to your chest. “You need to get out. You’re drunk and you’re not thinking clearly. We...we can talk about this tomorrow, but right now you have to go.”

Your heart is beating like hummingbird wings, sending a flush up to your face that you know is visible. Tendou ghosts his hand over his cheek and is quiet for a long moment. “I wanted to do this the right way,” he says finally.

“What?”

“I tried. But you’re so obsessed with professionalism. You refused to see me like that,” he sighs. “You’re too responsible. Although it’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Please listen to me...” The psychological anxiety of this revelation is stirring up a primal fight or flight instinct, and you start backing up.

“I really wanted to treat you gently. You deserve to be treated well…”

“Tendou, wait.” How far are you from your bedroom? You don’t want to resort to hiding from him, but you’d feel a lot better with a locked door between you and him.

“…but senpai, I’ve waited so long. And it’s my birthday.”

Your hands scrabble for the doorknob, only—oh. He’s not just stronger than you, he’s faster too.

➠ [Part 2]

[nymphigeon]

Someone you love(d) || KTH

• Pairing: Taehyung x Reader(f)

• Genre: break up au, angst with a happy ending, fluff? (just a lil' bit at the end :))

• Rating: PG

• Words: 7.2k

• Warnings: swearing, mention of weight, they kiss like once, if you don't like cheesy things....skip this one lmao

• Summary: You thought he loved you, you really did, but the way he left told you something else.

Or alternatively;

Taehyung is an emotionally constipated idiot who doesn't know how to deal with his feelings.

• A/N: Okay it took me waaay too long to write this, I'm so sorry T_T I really wanted to get this out earlier, but well things happened....

I only proofread this like once and had some trouble getting everything into the post properly so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes!  Please let me know if you find any so I can fix them asap.

Thank you for the request @mytaetaey​! I hope it matches your expectations!!!

It honestly hasn't even been that long since the day he showed up at my house.

"Let’s break up."

Although I really wouldn't be able to tell you how much time had truly passed.

"W-wait why?"

Days felt like weeks, weeks felt like months. Everything just seemed to last a lot longer than it should have.

"Did I do something wrong? I-I can fix it, just tell me!"

It might have happened last week, or the week before that. Wasn't it three weeks ago?

"No, no you didn't do anything wrong y/n. I'm sorry this just isn't working out."

Bottom line is, the passing of time hasn't really been on my mind. Any day without him is a day lost, a day to forget about.

"What do you mean this isn’t working out? I thought we were doing well together..."

I remember the confusion that went through me. All of a sudden the four years we spent together seemed to have disappeared.

“You thought wrong.”

He had been acting weird for a while, never quite getting close to telling me what was going through his mind. I hadn’t anticipated it ever ending like this though.

“Not everything you believe is a fact.”

The years I had to get to know him ended too soon. They went by so fast, they might as well have been non-existent.

"I... why? I don’t understand…

This all came too sudden. Just a few days before he had been laying on my bed, smiling as I told him about my day.

"I just don't feel the same anymore."

I just needed a little more time. A little more time to adore him. A little more time to say goodbye.

"I don't love you anymore."

But I still did do. He didn’t seem to care though. After he took care of me for a while, he decided I’m not worth it. Not even as someone who he just passes by.

"It's best if we don't see each other anymore."

If you cherish what you have you'll never be left unsatisfied.

"Goodbye."

I did. And it broke me.

“Y/n? Helloooo?”

My daydreams get interrupted by a waving hand in front of my face, followed by a harsh flick against my forehead.

“Ouch! Mina that was too hard!” Both my hands shoot up to the stinging spot between my eyes, one to prevent the evil hand from handing out another flick, the other one to rub at the red spot forming.

“Class ended a few minutes ago, you should probably pack up. Really, did you just stare off into space for the entire class?” Spotting my close to empty notebook, Mina sighs and shakes her head. She’s trying to look disappointed, but under the scolding exterior she’s putting on, there is a hint of pity.

It’s not the first time this week that not a single word has made it into my notes. Each time again the pages are either filled with lazy doodles and meaningless scribbles, or a space of absolute nothingness, not even a drop of ink staining the white paper.

“I’m sorry, I really did try to pay attention, but you know I hate his classes with a passion.” We both know that’s not the reason for my absentness, and neither of us speaks up about it. It’s what I requested myself, not being able to cope with the sadness I was causing my friends to feel. They care too much, I don’t want to burden them for too long.

“I know sweetheart, you did do your best. I’ll send my notes later, if you want I’ll help you understand them too.” Though no matter how hard I try, I still rely on them. They keep convincing me to, their kind souls not being able to leave me alone.  “If you could I’d really appreciate it.”

A sweet smile appears on Mina’s lips as I accept her offer, being more than happy to help me. She has always been the type to give more than she received, and despite me believing she deserves more than she gets, I adore her for it. “Of course, any time.”

I finish packing my belongings into my backpack, first making sure I didn’t leave anything behind before leaving the classroom with Mina close to my side. She talks about everything and nothing as we roam the spacious hallways filled with tired looking students. I wouldn’t be surprised if more than half of them slept until the end of their lectures.

Most of Mina’s words fall on deaf ears as I think back to the thoughts that occupied my mind the entire time my teacher was trying to explain the principle of quantum mechanics. I wouldn’t have understood it regardless of whether I was paying attention or not by the way.

“Ah you don’t have any more classes today, do you?” An unannounced weight falls on my left side as Mina whines into my shoulder, effectively bringing me back down to earth. Some brabbles about life being unfair escape the muffled sounds she produces, clearly not looking forward to the rest of her day.

“I’m going to be so lonely, me and Daeun aren’t allowed to sit next to each other anymore.” Mina raises her head to catch some air, her hands still clinging to the fabric of my shirt. The scowl on her face isn’t hard to miss, as she isn’t doing much to hide it.

“I was just going to head home straight away.” On any other day I would’ve probably teased her, wishing her good luck while I go and enjoy the free life. Today however, I don’t. My face stays in it’s boring resting position, even as Mina waits for the non-existent twist at the end.

It doesn’t take long before she finally sees I’m not poking fun at her. The moment of realization is clear, her whiny expression disappearing and her hands falling back to her sides. “Oh.”

“Well since it’s Friday how about I come hang out at your place when I’m done here? I’ll drag Daeun along with me too.” Mina’s voice is unsure, scared that I’ll reject her offer. A thick tension hangs in the air as we both wait for my reply.

I want to be alone. I want to be able to overthink in peace without others insisting that my mind is wrong. Though on the other side, I do know that I’ve been pushing them away. All the more reason for them to worry about me.

“Yeah sure.” I manage to convince myself to decide on the option I’d like the least. Somewhere I may be hoping that I’ve been missing out on a distraction I needed. I will never know until I experience it.

“Great! I’ll bring snacks too, let’s make it a movie night!” And off she goes, not waiting for any kind of confirmation from my side. Most likely it’s a way to keep me from refusing, forcing me into a situation that’s best for me, according to her.

I might not be looking forward to the events to come, but even I can’t deny the dull blossoming of my heart. The corners of my lips tug up, together with a hand to wave the girl off.

Yeah, perhaps, just maybe, I’m excited to spend some time with them.

I wasted a lot of time trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. Did I gain too much weight? Did I not text him enough? Was I going down the wrong path?

No matter what I wrote down, which new question I thought of, it didn’t seem right. Crumpled up paper balls and clothes littering the apartment show of the frustration occupying my mind.

No aspect of me changed for the worse. I’m still the same healthy weight, we texted almost every day, and I’m running up the path to a successful career. There is nothing wrong with me, so why am I blaming myself so heavily?

Because for some reason I believe that if I had done things differently the outcome would have been better. Because maybe he would’ve changed his mind if I reacted differently. Because it could never be him who was in the wrong.

A knock on the door and the pen I had been holding drops. Focussing on the paper in front of me once more, the harsh worded sentences ending in large written question marks stand out. I’m yearning for answers to questions I don’t even understand myself and it’s terrifying.

Three knocks on the door this time and I’m up, quickly discarding all the papers littering around. Some I tear to pieces, making sure none of the written sentences are visible anymore, others simply get hidden.

The door creaks as it opens, broadcasting it’s old age to the world. I should probably replace it sometime before someone decides to break in. Not that there’s anything worth taking here, I am a student after all.

“Hey dea- Oh no you look horrible.” A slight gasp interrupts Daeun’s cheery greeting when she notices the birds nest that is my hair. After having acted out all my annoyance on the poor strands, they’ve taken to each other for comfort, gladly intertwining. To my dismay, of course.

“I feel horrible. Come in.” The chuckle meant to lighten the statement doesn’t do it’s job properly. Both don’t say anything more as they enter the tiny apartment I call home, but they might as well have been screaming ‘I feel sorry for you.’” If they won’t do it, their faces definitely will.

“I won’t let any of you chose a movie tonight, I’ve got way too many good ideas.” Mina drops the overfilled bags she was holding on the dinner table while she talks. From the few items that stick out it’s safe to deduce that they’re filled with snacks to the brim.

“Also I was thinking we could order some pizza for dinner. All on me, I just got payed.” Like she owns the place, Mina reaches for several bowls high up in the cupboards of the kitchen. “We’ll use these tonight..” She says it more so to herself than to anyone else, not bothering to ask me anything. Not that it was really needed, I would have given her permission anyway.

“How was your day?” Sitting down next to Daeun, who has made herself comfortable on the couch after walking in, I try to start a basic conversation. Even though I’m not particularly in the mood for anything, I decide it’s probably best to try before I ruin the fun.

“You shouldn’t have to pretend that everything is okay, you know.” My question is completely ignored, switched for a statement that sets a heavy atmosphere in the room. The little excitement I had for their visit disappears. Instead, irritation starts taking over.

“Look Daeun, I-”

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but this is not the way to cope with whatever may be happening inside you right now.” The tone she uses tells me she isn’t about to back out anytime soon. I hate it, hate how she feels like she can tell me what’s best for me.

“If this is what you came here for then I think it’s best that you leave. I’m not playing around here.” I turn away from the both of them, showing my back instead. This was supposed to be a fun evening to get my mind off him. Turns out, it’s the exact opposite.

“She’s right y/n.” It didn’t sound like Mina initially wanted to talk about this. She has always been unsure of when and how to address things, usually rather staying silent. With the right help however, Mina too will spill her words.

“This will always be a part of your life now, no matter how hard you try to erase it, you can’t. I know you’re hurting, and you’re allowed to feel hurt, we just want to help you. We’ll distract you all you like later, but for now, just confide in us please?”

It’s the way I feel both of their eyes burning into my back, the way she isn’t exactly sure how to convey her thoughts, though has the best intentions, the way a gentle hand softly lands on my shoulder. Sooner or later the dam would have broken. Apparently that time has come.

“I gave up so much for that guy! I moved to a more expensive apartment closer to his so we could see each other more, I started working more hours so he wouldn’t need to pay every time we went out together,” I never really got the chance to complain about the negative side to the changes I made, always feeling like it should be worth it, since I did it for him.

“I studied late into the night just so I had time during the day to hang out with him, do you know how much sleep I lost? I couldn’t even go home to my parents regularly anymore, for the distance was too much.”

Not exactly having expected me to rant so much, the two girls seated next to me stare in surprise. Never have I expressed any discomfort with what I was doing, always plastering a smile on my face.

“I don’t even mind that he broke up with me, I mean I do, but he was so cold! I had done my best to keep things going between us and he just gives me an ‘oh I don’t like you anymore’ like it’s common sense. I didn’t even get a thank you for all those years or a sorry for breaking it off! I just wish he’d…”

I take in a deep breath after having forgotten to breathe for the past minute, all the tears I kept in finally making an appearance as my anger get replaced by the same sadness I felt all those days ago.

“I just wished he’d at least given me reassurance I hadn’t been a waste of his time.”

The volume in which I spoke had drastically lowered, coming out in an almost-whisper. All the objects in front of me blurred as a non-stop stream of tears made it’s way out, my cries just mere silent sobs.

The hand resting on my shoulder becomes an arm pulling me into her side, the rough material of her shirt revealing her identity. Daeun doesn’t say anything as her other hand strokes through the strands of my hair, detangling any knots on the way.

For a moment I feel guilty about the tears wetting her shirt. It’s when she pulls me against her a little tighter that the feeling disappears, giving me the opportunity to fully bask in her embrace.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Feeling left out, Mina pats my thigh and breaks the silence. “You worked hard didn’t you? Because you loved him.” I can hear her clothes rustling first, before her arms too wrap around the space Daeun left.

“I still do.” No matter how much I try to forget about him, I can’t seem to do it. He has engraved himself into my mind, forever stuck. If he’d ever leave is a mystery, though for now, it seems impossible.

You know what? Fuck you Kim Taehyung.

“Dude, what do you want for your birthday?” It’s Jungkook who has slammed down my door and completely disturbed my peace.

“Huh? Nothing in particular really.” Despite the rude entrance, I don’t look up from my tv screen, having already gotten used to the lack of announcements before he comes in.

“Didn’t you ask me that already two days ago?” Once again ignoring any form of politeness, the younger one makes grabby hands towards the bag of potato chips laying next to me. I don’t make any move to stop him, knowing very well I can’t win from him in a fight, ever.

“Yeah because I thought maybe you changed your mind. Usually you’re so excited for your birthday, but you just seem so… Unenthusiastic?” There is almost no way to take him seriously when he’s scarfing down my dear food like it’s water. Surely when were out next time I’ll make him get me a new bag.

“Well yeah that’s because…” What exactly was I going to say?

Finally grabbing his full attention, Jungkook puts down the bag of chips and lets himself fall down next to me. “Because?”

There is no mistaking his smirk for a smile, although he does his damn best to hide it. He knows exactly what I was about to say, and I’m not about to admit anything.

“Because I realized it’s nothing to be overly excited about. That’s it.” Challenging Jungkook to prove me wrong I stare right back at him, not planning on chickening out any time soon. It seems to have worked, as he looks away first.

“Ah is that so? I’ll just see if I can find something you’ll like myself in that case.” The boy who has silently admitted defeat removes himself from the couch, moving to his room at the other side of our apartment.  “Good luck buddy.”

No longer having to pay attention to him, I rewind the movie I was watching back. That muscle bunny just made me miss the absolute best part.

“So why exactly are you dragging me to town again?”

It’s not too busy today, which should have been a given as it’s a normal weekday. Everyone is either yawning behind a desk or running around in circles depending on their career choices. Compared to them, I’m making the worst possible choice by letting my best friend convince me to skip class for a reason I wasn’t even familiar with.

“I’m having none of this ‘I don’t care what you get me’ nonsense. We’re going to find something you like, and that’s why we’re here.” Jimin takes a pause from pulling me along by hand to put both of his on his waist like a proud toddler.

“So in other words, we’re here so I can choose my own birthday gift?” Slowly I begin to understand how much of a waste of my time this is. I could’ve been doing fine trying to understand whatever Mrs. Wilson wanted to go over today, but instead I’m going to be reminded of my ex all day. Great.

Well, if she was still here it wouldn’t have mattered whether I knew what I wanted or not, she always had something great for me, and I always looked forward to it. Once she jokingly told me how she felt pressured, having to live up to my expectations. Though honestly there was nothing for her to live up to, I liked her gifts because she gave them to me. Because she always managed to make each and every birthday a fun one.

“Any ideas yet? Jewellery, clothes, games… Wait, nothing too expensive, I’ll go broke!” Jimin’s sudden panic manages to bubble up a chuckle in me. He doesn’t really seem to appreciate it though, as he scowls at the sound. “What? Your taste is too expensive!”

He knows me well it seems. Not that it was ever a real secret. When the contents of your closet is worth more than someone’s rent several times anybody would want to show that off right? Well so do I.

We walk into several stores for inspiration. No real shopping haul, just a quick in and out with Jimin trying to get a reaction out of me by stuffing things he thinks I like into my face. So far no real success, my only reaction being something along the lines of ‘ah yes that looks nice’ at everything he proposes.

It’s not like I’m purposefully trying not to find something I truly like, but more that honestly nothing catches my interest. And I promise it’s not even the price, some of my most prized possessions are the cheapest things I own. This just isn’t doing it for me.

After having been pulled into the what feels like the hundredth store, my stomach decides to make the loudest noise known to mankind. “Can we like, maybe take a break?” There is no doubt that my face is bright red at this moment, instantly heating up when Jimin laughs equally as loud.

“If you were hungry you should’ve just said so. Let’s go find something to eat.” Is probably the only sentence he said today that I’ve fully agreed on.

It sounded so easy, just find somewhere to buy food. Unfortunately, getting our tummies filled wasn’t written in our future so soon. No matter where we look, everything is either closed or completely full with customers. Who knew so many other people were hungry at this moment. Not like it’s close to dinner time or anything.

Eventually, I manage to convince Jimin to eat at a small fancy restaurant down the street on my expense. Despite him agreeing after a few attempts, a set pout is still present on his face, which doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. Together with some murmurs about how this isn’t fair, he makes himself look incredibly adorable.

Soon however, I would come to regret my decision. The fancy tablecloths and nicely plated food wouldn’t be looking so appealing anymore. Because even if I had convinced my mind of the truth my constant lies hold, there was simply no way for me to convince my heart too.

“Hey isn’t that y/n and… I don’t think I know him.”

The male opposite her had somehow won her over with that stupid perfect smile he wore, his eyes an annoyingly beautiful ocean deep blue and his blonde hair styled in an awfully neat way. Everything about the sight annoys the heck out of me, including the way she was smiling back at him. Why does she look so happy? When was the last time I saw her like that?

“Oh are they… I’m sorry Tae.”

I was the one who broke up with her. I was the one who walked out with a load haven fallen off of my shoulders. I was the one who ran even though she cried. There is no reason for me not to be completely fine.

“I don’t care, she can do whatever she wants now.”

So then why am I the one hurting this much?

It came sooner than expected, my birthday. Just sort of snuck up on me. After the restaurant incident Jimin himself magically decided to end the shopping trip and go home to eat. Nobody ever mentioned my birthday again in the following days.

It was pretty clear that someone had told the others about what happened, although none of them spoke about it. That someone obviously being Jimin.

“Soooo… any plans for the day?”

The question comes from Jungkook, who is fidgeting with the hem of his oversized hoodie. He stands quietly in the doorway to my room, waiting for an answer he already knows.

“Go to class and study after.”

“You’re not going out of the house? No party planned?” The suffocating nervosity radiates off of him in waves, displayed by the still ongoing fidgeting and his eyes that can’t seem to focus on one thing at a time.

“Nope, no other plans.” I sit up in bed, slowly coming to terms with the fact that I won’t be getting any more sleep. Despite him looking like he’s scared I’m going to get mad, he doesn’t actually give up, which isn’t appreciated on my part.

“Well the boys thought we could maybe go out together, get a few drinks.” On any other day besides my birthday I would’ve most likely agreed to the plan. Today however, I can’t help but relate every proposition to my birthday, which I, in case you hadn’t noticed yet, want to forget about as soon as possible.

I had already given him enough opportunities to stop. All it would take was leaving me alone. His constant persistence ends up getting to me, successfully causing me to snap at the younger boy. If he expected an outburst, he’s getting it.

“Why the fuck does everyone expect me to celebrate today? If my birthday is the day on which I can do whatever shit I want then let me do whatever I want!” It wasn’t meant to come out that way, and the guilt sets in the moment I realize it, but I don’t have time to apologize.

“Dude, you seriously need to do something about your feelings for y/n.” He sighs the words as he casually leans against the wall, his arms crossed. In an instant the awkward energy around him disappears, replaced by a very prominent eye roll. It’s not hard to guess that this has been on his mind for a while.

“Don’t mention her. This has nothing to do with her.”

“This has everything to do with her and you know it.”

I don’t have anything to say against that. We both know it’s the truth, though only one of us is trying to deny it. The dumb one.

“You know what I think? You spent your past 6 birthdays with the girl of your dreams and now that you pushed her away you have no idea what to do. Am I right?”

He is. I don’t say anything as my head lowers, slowly realizing there is no hiding anything from him. She’s still on my mind. I still wonder what she’s doing, where she is, if she’s safe. I still care. “You’re right.”

I broke up with who I considered my other half, convincing myself that I didn’t need her anymore. Who exactly was I trying to protect?

“I had to, I’ll hurt her.” I already did.

“And suddenly breaking up with her is supposed to make her happy?” I was hoping it would in the long run.

“You’re not the same as him.” Though I am. The same parents, the same group of friends growing up, the same sense of humour. We got along so well. What if we still do?

“He’s my brother Kook. We were so alike. You know he once too adored her.” We don’t talk anymore, I’m disappointed in him. He would’ve been too. I don’t understand what changed.

“He used her, nobody saw it coming. The signs were there, he just hid them too well.” Jungkook leaves his spot against to wall to comfort me, tucking my head into his neck.

“You’re not him and he isn’t you. The fact that you no longer want to be associated with him proves everything. He didn’t care about Hyeon.” So he can look straight at me, he pushes me away with his hands on my shoulders. The expression on his face tells me he’s serious.

“You love her, and you’ve got to fix this mess.”

I don’t like agreeing with him, but once again, he’s right.

As soon as I open the door I want to slam it right back into his face. Or I might want to run into his arms, I can’t decide yet. Regardless, I wasn’t expecting Taehyung to be standing on the other side when the doorbell went off.

“Umm… Hi?” All the words that have been building up in my personal dictionary seem to disappear the moment I lay my eyes on him. He still looks as good as the last time I saw him, even though the circumstances were heart-breaking.

“Hey, um I’m sorry I showed up unannounced. I didn’t really think this through…” Everything about him screams awkward. From the way his feet are pointed slightly more inwards than normally, to the way he doesn’t seem to be able to smile naturally. Instead there is this weird, tight expression on his face.

“Oh um… Would you like to come in though?” I don’t wait for an answer as I step aside, my memory helping me remind that nine out of ten times the answer to that question is ‘yes’. “Oh yeah, thank you.”

“Do you want anything to drink?” Not really having anything to say I cycle through the set few sentences I usually need when I have someone over. I’m not happy that he’s here, but I’m not the type to lash out at people.

“Ah no, I’m okay. Look I’m just going to get straight to the point, I messed up big time. I got insecure and closed myself off to everyone including you and I’m so fucking sorry that I did.”

My lack of reaction surprises me. Sure, my insides are doing somersaults, but I don’t feel the need to express any of it. Like an unused sheet of paper, my face stays blank. “And now you’re here to win me back I presume?”

Somewhere in between his statement and mine, the tables shifted. Slowly, I’m gaining the confidence he is losing.

“Well, not really, I mean yes, but-”

He catches himself rambling, shutting his mouth before any real nonsense can make it out. Taking a deep breath helps, the words coming out more fluently after. Not a great start, but it’s okay. I have patience. Sometimes.

“I just wanted to let you know that the words I shot at you that day weren’t true. I hurt you and I didn’t want those words to roam your mind not knowing they weren’t even close to what I was feeling.”

The deep breath he drew in earlier escapes in a deep sigh, followed by his mouth opening and closing a few times without any sounds making it out. “And?” It was meant as a way to encourage him to continue. Sadly, it came out rather rude.

“I do still care about you, damn I still love you more every day. If there is anything I can do to make it up to you please let me know, I don’t want to have to live in a world where my last words to you made you cry. Obviously I would want a second chance at being the proper lover you deserve, but you’re in charge here. If you want me to walk out the door I will.”

There’s a hopeful look in his eyes making my heart beat erratically. In the past I would’ve instantly dropped to my knees, making sure every wish of his came true. I am no longer that girl.

“Tae it’s been months, you can’t just suddenly drop by and tell me you’re sorry. I spent days wondering why you broke up with me, wailing over the fact that you suddenly just didn’t care anymore, and even now you’re not giving me an answer. Why did you suddenly turn your back on me? Why did you not talk to me about whatever was bothering you? Even now you’re making me feel like you couldn’t trust me. Fuck, you just left me there like I was a piece of trash!”

What was once a hopeful look in his eyes, turned into defeat. He won’t give me an answer.

“You can’t just come in here exclaiming to love me after I’ve worked so hard to get myself over you. You can’t just come in here trying to steal my heart when I’m learning to give it to somebody else.”

“The blonde haired dude?”

Perhaps I shouldn’t feel a sense of accomplishment at the clear jealousy in his voice. However, this man did break my heart in two for apparently no reason. Is it weird I would want to get back at him a little?

“His name is Yejun and he’s a great guy. Look, just leave please. I have nothing more to say or hear. We’re done.” Turning away from him I mark the end of this conversation. It takes a while before there is any movement behind me. Slow steps make their way to the front door before pausing.

“I hope he treats you well, but I’m not going to simply give up on you like that.”

And secretly, I was hoping he wouldn’t.

Two, three four days, before I realize it it has been an entire week since I last saw him. Some part of me is scared, scared that he has decided otherwise and I will never hear from him again.

I had told myself getting over him would be easy when I finally accepted the help of my friends, and for a while it was. Or so I thought, because the moment he walked in here I was right back to square one.

I’m in the middle of working on a new project when the doorbell rings. Standing up, I go to open the door wondering who it could be. If he had come back for me after all. Too bad I would soon be disappointed, as the man standing in front of my door was just an ordinary mailman.

“Umm I didn’t order anything?” My eyes fall on almost gigantic package behind the man. If I ordered some furniture I would’ve surely remembered right?

“Are you not y/f/n y/l/n?”

“No I am.”

“It clearly has your name and address on it miss.”

The building up confusion hasn’t left my head yet, but knowing there is nothing else I can do I decide to accept the package. After thanking the courier I close the door and carefully carry the big box into my living room.

The moment I open the big thing up, a bunch of big balloons float up to my low ceiling. There’s a transparent one with little hearts bouncing around inside, one that’s just one big heart itself, another one has the words ‘I love you’ written on it in a neat font. If I hadn’t checked my calendar this morning I would’ve thought it was valentine’s day.

Diving deeper into the box I find a relatively big fluffy teddy bear, hugging what seems to be a letter in a white envelope.

‘When I was 16 a miracle happened, I met the most beautiful girl. Me not being able to contain myself I immediately introduced myself to her. She said he name was y/n. I think it was back then that I decided her voice was my favourite. I was too much of a coward to ask her out at the time. I eventually did, though looking back I wish I did so sooner. There was never a boring day with her by my side.’

That’s all there is. Just a few words on an otherwise empty piece of paper. No signature at the bottom, no name, and still I knew exactly who wrote it.

The next day another package came in. This time a different set of balloons, a different stuffed animal, but the exact same white envelope.

 ‘When I was 22 my brother and his fiancée broke it off. Just like the piece of shit I have to call my dad he betrayed his partner’s trust, cheating on her without a second thought. My mother heard about it and accused both of us as being just like our father. You know after a while, I really started believing her.’

Each day a new box would come in, always containing a present with a letter attached.

‘I was terrified of hurting you, terrified of you seeing me the way my mom did, so I hid everything from you. I should’ve known that I can’t hide anything, you know me too well. I panicked and left you, the biggest mistake I could ever make. One that made everything that was already happening so much worse. I tried telling myself I didn’t need you, but I just couldn’t.’

I believed him, believed in the words he wrote down.

‘I’m so fucking sorry for everything I put you through. It’s all my fault and I’ll spend forever owning up to my mistakes. I love you and I don’t want to live without you. Please just give me one more chance to prove myself to you. One is all I need.’

I’m sorry Yejun, I can’t forget about him after all.

Actually he should be the one who is nervous, and well maybe he is, but I’m the one standing on his front porch with my knees shaking and my heart beating right out of my chest. At one point I was even scared he would be able to hear me through the door.

Shaking my head I gather all the courage I can to knock on his door before I turn around and run back in the direction I came from. However, when I hear the sound of my fist on the hard wood I briefly still consider hiding somewhere.

Luckily I don’t get the chance to. While still going back and forth between the options staying or coming back some other time, the door creaks. I stiffly force my hands to stay still at my sides. The time it takes for the door to actually open seems like an entirety. If you were to count the passing seconds it would at most be like 5, which doesn’t sound like much, it feels like much.

“y/n?” His stance looks like a ‘what are you doing here?’, but his eyes give more of a ‘please say you’re here to forgive me’. Well, the latter would be right. “Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah of course.”

It’s not hard to notice that he is uncertain of his actions. It pleases me on one hand, as it gives me some sort of confirmation that he doesn’t want to make any more mistakes around me. On the  other hand, I don’t like seeing him uptight around me. I wish he was more comfortable when I’m near.

“I received the letters you wrote.” He knows I received his letters, he was the one who wrote them and sent them out. Surprisingly though, he almost audibly swallows at the information like he did something bad.

“Why couldn’t you tell me in person?” It takes me back to the day he suddenly landed on my doorstep. Even when I explicitly asked for it, he gave me nothing.

“I was scared, I couldn’t get the words out. I wasn’t at all prepared.” He takes a pause before continuing. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just didn’t know what else to believe at that point.”

Carefully, I reach out my hand to place on top of his laying on his lap. I don’t touch his skin yet, patiently waiting for him to give me some sort of consent. It comes in the form of him softly raising his hand to meet mine.

“I know, we all have our insecure times. You’re not obligated to tell me anything. I can’t and shouldn’t force you to. I’m sorry I doubted you. I was only upset about the way you left.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I thought that if your last memory of me was a bad one you’d forget me faster.”

It didn’t work the way he wanted it to, but he already knows. Already having been hit with that fact multiple times, I decide to spare him. I don’t mention it again.

“Did you ever stop loving me?” At the time it seemed like he did. Like he wasn’t simply acting, like those harsh words were what he truly felt. “Be honest please.” I don’t want any more lies. I’ll accept whatever comes out, even if it throws me right back to where I started.

“I-I don’t know… I really thought my mother was right. That what I had for you wasn’t what it seemed to be.” His gaze briefly drifts to the ground, before focussing on our touching hands. Like magic, the uncomfortableness he was feeling seems to shift. “No matter what she or I tried to convince myself of, something was always missing. I couldn’t put a mask over my own hurting and guilt anymore.”

He spoke the truth. Well at least I think he did. And so I accepted it.

“Okay, thank you for telling me.”

This talk was long overdue. Something we both needed and completely missed. No screaming, no crying, no accusing. If only it went this way from the start. We’re not all perfect though. Even if someone out there is, I’m not, he isn’t. They must be laughing at us.

“Your letters were cheesy. The gifts too.” I’m not sure if this is me trying to lighten the mood, or if I’m just stating facts. Regardless, it makes the both of us smile.

“I know. But you love cheesy things, like the roses I buy you on special occasions.” When he looks back at me I have to resist the urge to jump on him. The smile he wears look good on him. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it. “You know me too well.”

“Well did they work?”

I had already made up my mind a few days back. While staring at the floating balloons occupying my living room I had decided for myself that he’s worth it. He is.

Tilting my head up like I’m still thinking, I make clear ‘hmm’ sound. I had thought that the answer is quite obvious, seeing as I came to him myself, but when doubt takes away his smile I drop the act. I’ve been through enough. We’ve both been through enough.

“Yeah, yeah it did.”

Unlike myself, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around me. Burying his head in the crook of my neck like he used to do, he lets out a few low ‘thank you’s’. It doesn’t take me long to return the hug, feeling just as safe with him as I used to.

“What about.. Ah I forgot his name.” It’s not hard to guess who he’s hinting at, the sourness in his voice giving him away. I understand, I wouldn’t like it either.

“I ended things.” His answer just comes in the for of a small nod. There is no need for anything more.

“I honestly thought you were going to reject me again.” He ends his sentence with a chuckle and completely relaxes in my hold. Now that the tension is gone, we can go back to where we left off, slowly rebuilding what was lost.

“I was just playing with you, I’m sorry. But no more being an asshole okay? I promise I will kick your ass.” My giggling might undermine the threat a little to others. Luckily, he knows I’m serious.

“I will give you full permission to, but you’ll never have to. I’m going to dump so much love on you that you’ll regret ever even thinking about taking me back. You’re stuck with me now though, so you better be prepared.”

Pulling himself back a little, he plants a gentle kiss on my lips. And then another one, a second one, three more, each kiss more passionate than the last. A fire spreads throughout my body, burning away the few doubts I had left with success. Eventually, to my dismay, I have to pull back for air. Damn humans for needing oxygen.

“Oh? I’d like to see you try.”

Just in case you were wondering, I never did regret it.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Senior Math

Summary: If there is one rule to high school, it’s you don’t miss PTG parties.

Do or Not Series

Slice of life and fluff

Word Count: 2,517

Kino [Hyunggu] X Reader

[Mentions: Seungkwan and Moonbin as best friends and Myungjun, Jinwoo, and Jinho as close friends]

The days grow longer, and I know summer is just around the corner. This summer is different since this is my last year in high school. It feels bittersweet to watch it all go, to start anew and leave my childhood behind. I doodle in my notebook during math class since senior math sucks. I should have taken college prep. But at least all the funny kids and my friends are in this class. That is the plus side, but when Mr. Davis yells that there are thirty problems for tonight. I want to curl up and die. Can graduation come any sooner? But at the same time, slow its roll? Like there is no happy medium, and oh god, isn’t prom coming up? I completely forgot about that function, a good thing that it’s not for another month.

I start working on them just as the bell rings, and I hear the books slam close around me. Good thing we get to come back up here for another period. Or I would have it out with Mr. Davis. Seungkwan and Moonbin meet me at my desk. “Let’s go bitches!” Seungkwan yells at least Mr. Davis is out. I don’t need detention. He might force me to stay extra days, and I am not cool with that. We laugh, link arms, and rush down to the best period of the day.

When we get our food Moonbin draws in closer to us, “Did you guys hear?” I let out a ‘hmm?’ and Seungkwan waits expectantly, “That PTG is throwing a party?” We gasp, “No way,...” There is only one group that can throw a party. And when they do, they set the whole school ablaze. “This year it’s only by invitation. Since what happened last year.” Oh yeah, a few people got a day in the cell for being drunk and or hosting a party with underage drinking. Seungkwan whispers hastily, “How did you hear?” Moonbin smirks, “Myungjun invited me, and he said I could invite you two, and that’s it.” We exchange a look, and I look down at my food. “I don’t know,...” Seungkwan nudges me, “Come on! It’s our last year! Let’s live it up!” While I’m not one for parties, I can’t say no to the two puppy dog eyes directed at me.

--

Moonbin picks up Seungkwan and me with the radio blasting, and Seungkwan goes, “What if I car surf?!” I gasp, “Well, what are you waiting for?!” He grins, and on cue, the Beach Boys come on. He climbs up through the passenger window and up to the roof. Moonbin and I laugh, and Seungkwan is screaming. Out of joy, I’m not sure, but he hops back in pretty quick. “(Y/n)! It’s your turn!” My eyes nearly pop out of my head, but I can’t help but shrug and roll the window down. I sit on the window hole and pull myself up onto the roof. When I feel the air under my arms nothing, and everything feels real at the same time. As I spin around and act like I’m riding the waves going down and low and up high. When he comes to a red light, I lay down on the roof and take in this feeling of euphoric anxiety. I’m a senior, and these are some of my last high school experiences. Soon these memories will all be distant and only exist in my dreams. I shake those thoughts off and slide back in through the open window. Moonbin goes, “Grab the wheel, Seungkwan, it’s my turn.” My eyes nearly pop out of my head, again, as Seungkwan takes over. He has a hang of it as Moonbin jumps up on top, and I can hear his laughter. He seems to be enjoying it more than us. “Do you know where PTG’s house is?” Seungkwan lets out a hum and goes, “Roughly?” Moonbin yells, “Turn right!” *let’s go surfing now everyone is learning how, come on and safari with me*. Seungkwan turns right, and we pull up to the house in a matter of moments. Moonbin flips off the car, and Seungkwan and I laugh, “You would think he’s drunk already.” I tell Seungkwan, and he laughs. We exit, link arms, and brace ourselves for a fun night.

Wooseok opens the door and invites us in, and the music is already thumping through my soul. We make our way in and find Myungjun and Jinwoo smoking and talking amongst themselves. The three of us grab a drink and join them. “I didn’t expect to see all three of you.” I roll my eyes, “Yes, Jinwoo, sometimes I like to enjoy myself.” He smirks, “I was talking about Seungkwan, but hey.” I shake my head and laugh as the five of us get up and walk around after they put out their cigarettes. We see Jinho, and he grins at us, “Ahh, my favorite five.” Seungkwan goes, “Have you seen Hyunggu?” He scrunches his nose before his eyes come alight. If there is one member to visit during a PTG party, it’s Hyunggu. Not only is he good at party games, but he’s also pretty attractive. It’s not that I have had a major crush on him since eighth grade and the whole group likes to tease me about it or anything. Ever since I let it slip in my Sophomore year, they have teased me about it.

--

Maybe it was from the times when I went over to his house to do a school project. And we stayed up the whole night talking and sharing music. I could never forget the feeling of him telling me his favorite song and turning it up on his speakers. Luckily his room was in the basement so his parents couldn’t care less if his music was loud. Or it was the way we snuck glances at each other as we texted each other in class. Or the way he carried himself, so freely yet reserved. You wouldn’t know he was loud and funny until he was around his friends. It was something I adored about him. After a while, we stopped texting each other, and things went back to how they used to be with me, watching him from afar and wondering what a relationship with him would entail. And him, looking handsome as ever, until one day we no longer shared classes. But I still catch glimpses of him in the hallways, and my heart beats a little faster each time.

--

Myungjun elbows me, and I nearly want to hurl him across the room. I wish I had detention with Mr. Davis to avoid this. No, those end by five, and this party didn’t start until seven. I follow the five of them up the stairs. When we reach his room, my jaw nearly drops to the floor. He has pink hair now,... No one should look that good in pink, but oh god, how he does. I close my jaw back up as I hear, “Now, what we’re gonna play tonight!” We all hoot and holler. There are at least twenty people in this bedroom. “Is seven minutes in heaven!” That’s when I see the post-it notes getting passed around. I shrug and write my name down at worst, I end up with someone I don’t know. Or I end up with an ex, but hopefully, I end up with one of my friends. At least I can talk to them and fake a few moans and hair ruffles to get a good laugh.

“ALRIGHT! All the names are in the bowl! Let’s see who we pull!” He pulls the names out and goes, “Myungjun! And!” We all give a drumroll, “Jinwoo!” Moonbin and I boo, “They’re already dating!” The two of them laugh, “Jealous?!” Everyone laughs as they go hand in hand into the closet. “Maybe I am,” Moonbin says, which makes Seungkwan and I laugh. “Good thing there’s a lot of closets in this house~.” Jinho tells us, and I blink at him, “You mean there is a chance that everyone is gonna go.” “Everyone who put their names in the hat.” I shrug, “Should have expected that. It’s been a while since I went to a PTG party.” Jinho smiles, “We all know who you’re hoping to be with~” I glare, “You guys are awful. We all know who you want, Jinho.” He squints, “Who?” We all let out, “Bomi.” He gasps, “Be quiet! She might hear you!” He waves his hands in front of himself. We roll our eyes, and Wooseok joins us on the bed, “Hey guys!” Seungkwan ruffles his hair, “Good evening, any luck?” He groans, “No, hopefully, my name gets pulled soon. I’m tired!” We laugh at him, and Hyunggu pulls out the next name, “Moonbin and Seungkwan!” I whine, and they shrug, they follow each other into a closet, and I lay back on the bed, “Well, now it’s just us three.” Jinho’s name gets called with Bomi’s immediately, “Just you two, actually!” He says with a skip in his step, "Lucky!" Both Wooseok and I whine.

When Moonbin and Seungkwan return they are shocked to see me still lying there, all by myself. Seeing as Wooseok got paired up with a name I didn’t quite catch. “What did you guys do?” I ask teasingly, “To be honest, we were playing, 'would you rather.'” I shake my head, “Yep, that’s my best friends. They have the opportunity to leave something in a closet behind, and they play ‘would you rather’.” They laugh, and Seungkwan goes, “Yeah, no, I’d much rather kiss a frog.” Moonbin ‘ribbits’ in return, and I laugh. Seungkwan rolls his eyes, “So how many people are left?” I shrug, “Like ten?” Bomi and Jinho never returned, and we can only assume what they are doing right now.

“And last but not least, is (Y/n) and I!” I gasp, “You heard that too?” They both smirk and nod. I get up my nerves shaking me to the core. And there is Hyunggu not too much further in front of me. He grabs my hand and leads me to the farthest door. When he shuts the door, he goes, “You know I always thought you were super attractive.” My chin drops to the floor for the second time tonight. “I always thought the same about you,...” The light that seeps in from under the door barely illuminates our shoes. But it’s not like I needed more detail. I already memorized his outfit, and god, he looks way too good in soft cardigans. I take a step closer and reach my hands up to his face, I cup his cheeks, and he grabs my arms and pulls me up against him. And like in my dreams, we’re making out. His lips are so soft against mine. My hands leave his cheeks, and I snake my hands underneath his cardigan and pull him closer. His hands find their way into my hair and play with it. I let out a little moan, and I feel him smirk against my mouth. I smirk back and push him back against the wall and bring my hands up to his shoulders. Holding him against me, and when the door to the closet opens, it feels like it’s too soon. No, this is just like my dreams. I wake up before we end up together. Because I know when I walk out of this closet, kissing Hyunggu will be no more than a figment of my imagination. Although it’s the best damn makeout session, I have ever had. I hear the gasps, “I told you he liked (Y/n)!” Seungkwan says and hits Moonbin upside the head. Did they bet on this? I wouldn't put it past them. We slowly untangle ourselves from each other. He smiles at me, and we walk out of the closet.

I hear moans from the farthest room on the left, and I realize that we assumed correctly about Bomi and Jinho. Good for them, I think to myself as I part from Hyunggu. What does this mean? Are we going to pursue something, or are we just going to let this memory fade to dust? I find myself laying my head against Seungkwan’s shoulder and sipping from a new solo cup. “Do you think he meant anything about that? Or was it just the heat of the moment?” Moonbin rubs my shoulder, “The only way to know is to ask.” I groan, “That’s not the answer I’m looking for.” Seungkwan groans, “It’s the only one we can provide.” I groan, “I know!”

--

That Monday, he comes strutting into Mr. Davis’ fifth-period class. I feel Moonbin kick me under the table, and I look up to yell at him. When I catch Hyunggu’s eyes and he waves, and I wave back. Ugh, this is suffering, but I’m happy about it. How does that make any sense? Mr. Davis dismisses him and tells him he’ll have the grades in by Wednesday. The pink blur makes my heart swoon as he walks out with a pip in his step. I need to do something about these feelings, does he like me or not? I need a daisy,… Which leads to me cutting out a daisy instead of doing homework and ripping off the paper petals. I end up on ‘he loves me’, and I take that as a sign of hope. When the bell rings, I link my arms with my two friends, and we head to lunch.

We sit at our table idly chatting about prom and the end of the school year. When I catch sight of the pink blur, yet this time, he’s standing across from where I’m sitting. I raise my eyebrows, and he smiles, “Hey,... Can I talk to you about the other day?” I shrug, and Seungkwan pats my thigh and wishes me luck. I follow him outside of the cafeteria, and he smiles. “I,... uh,... like you.” I gulp and rub the back of my neck nervously before I confess, “I like you too, Hyunggu.” His eyes light up, and he asks, “Would you want to go out with me?” I grin and nod, “Tomorrow at 7?” I nod again with a bigger smile on my face, and he walks me back over to my lunch table. When he leaves, the two of them look at me expectantly, and I tell them everything.

The date went fantastic we went to a café together before we went to a house show. We jumped around to the music and laughed between sets. And a week later, I asked him to prom. He was blushing like a bright red cherry, and my face was just as red as he agreed. During the first slow dance of the night, I asked him to be mine. Who would have known that Hyunggu liked me back and that we would end up dancing the night away in each other’s arms? Not me, but I'm so glad we're together now.

[xae-in-a-coat]

Various doodles to fight the insufferable art block

Concept design/reference sheet for Xaje’s Lesser Nobodies(Bards):

Xaje’s joke weapons(the Pointless Quill & Eraser-less Pencil):

A newly recompleted Jae & tiny protagonist:

‘Shoo! Get away you bothersome creature of light! This here is my bread! Mine! Not yours!-’ :

Battle description + doodle:

As previously stated during my first rendition of Organization members I, II, & III, yours truly is currently(& quite unfortunately)caught within the throes of an art block. &, as painstakingly desperate as I am to get the progress moving along, that bloody motivation sucking monster simply won’t allow me to do so without a fight. So, here I am now, chipping away at smaller, more manageable, subject matters(including that of a soon-to-be-posted comic). Hopefully you’ll all still be patiently waiting till then. Here, take two of my latest unanimated cutscenes:

*Standing atop the balcony of an undisclosed building, our hero & villain find themselves eyeing an obliviously lovestruck duo strolling dreamily below. Protagonist, with admiration, & Xaje… Not so much.*

Protagonist: Aww, they’re together! Isn’t that just the most romantic thing!

Xaje: Ugh, romance this & romance that, don’t you light dwellers ever grow tired of the sappy genre?

Protagonist: Well it isn’t my favorite thing of course, but still- There’s just something magical about seeing… You know… That.

*The camera pans down onto the couple once more, now revealing that they’ve embraced each other in a sense(much to Xaje’s disgust).*

Xaje: Oh the things love will make people do, such foolishness simply cannot be handled without at least the slightest whim of violence. Here, allow me to demonstrate.

*He snaps his fingers, swift & sudden, summoning a manageable, but nonetheless shocking, amount of his Bards. Watching with malevolent satisfaction as they interrupted the lovers in their moment.*

Protagonist: XAJE NO!-

*In a haste to halt the unnecessary attack, our Protagonist summons their Keyblade & rushed to jump down towards the scene, would Xaje have not removed the creatures himself. Which, luckily, he had. Using his free hand, he grabbed their arm in a vice grip seconds before they could leap.*

Xaje: Tch, save the heroics for a better time P/N, that was simply a brief demonstration of my words, remember? Besides, these two can handle themselves.

*Nodding towards the sweethearts, who were now in a state of utter shock rather than dreaminess, he scowled.*

Protagonist: YOU SCARED THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUTTA THEM YOU SOULLESS RAT!

Xaje: ‘Soulless Rat?’ Heh, well that’s new.

Protagonist: & DON’T FORGET DARKNESS DRUNKEN, PEN COLLECTING, ENGLISH LANGUAGE ARTS OBSESSED, ANGSTY FANFIC WRITER!-

Xaje: Wow, I’m impressed. How long did it take you to come up with all that?

Protagonist: A lil while I guess, I’m not exactly sure what goes on in that misshapen brain of mine when I’m all fired up, you know?

Xaje: I’d understand that more than anyone P/N.

*They stood in silence for a short moment. Xaje’s hand still closed tightly around Protagonist’s arm. His grip steadily increasing as the seconds ticked by.*

Protagonist: Hey uh- Xaje, my arm-

Xaje: Oh- M-My apologies, I forgot.

*In an attempt to hide his embarrassment, he released them, dusting his hands off as he did.*

Protagonist: It’s fine. Just- Maybe don’t send a mob of Nobodies after innocent bystanders next time.

Xaje: Tch, I’ll send a mob of Nobodies after anyone I please, they do belong to me after all. It’s only right that I use them to fulfill my duty.

Protagonist: & your ‘duty’ is to harm innocent people who’re just trying to be happy? Xaje… You know that’s not-

HEY ARE YOU TWO OKAY UP THERE?!

*Suddenly interrupted by one of the partners’ concerned voice, Protagonist made to reassure them. Xaje however, had other plans in mind.*

Protagonist: YEAH! WE’RE- I MEAN, I’M FINE! THANKS! SORRY ABOUT THOSE NOBOD-

*Heckled once more, Protagonist abruptly felt themself getting pulled back, now unable to complete their intended statements.*

Xaje: Silence yourself fool! These are mere commoners! We can’t risk being seen-

Protagonist: NO! YOU CAN’T RISK BEING SEEN! YOU’RE ALWAYS RUNNING AWAY & HIDING SOMEWHERE IN THE DARK REALM! ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME DO THAT TOO?!

*Knowing that it wasn’t a good time to argue, let alone fight, Xaje promptly awakened his shadow & ordered it to keep our struggling Protagonist subdued before summoning a portal which lead back to the Castle That Never Was.*

Xaje: Come along now P/N, we’ll settle this elsewhere.

*In they went, a Nobody, his shadow, & a captured Hero reduced to nothing.*

-𝙵𝚒𝚗

*Upon their arrival at the castle, & specifically the more so secluded half of it, Xaje unlocked one of the many corridors before him, revealing a vast expanse of ivory emptiness. Regal white walls coated in ebony shadow. Carelessly releasing our Protagonist into the lovely abyss.*

Xaje: Stay here, It’s not like I’ll be allowing you an easy escape anytime soon. Not until I get what I want that is…

Protagonist: Xaje, what do you want?

*The question caught him off guard, leaving the Nobody with a blank slate rather than a witty comeback.*

Xaje: I… I don’t know…

Protagonist: Well… Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll be able to find it if you’d just choose to accept the light for once-

Xaje: NO! IT MAY NOT COME AS OBVIOUS TO A DIMWIT LIKE YOU, BUT THE SECOND I LEAVE THIS STATE OF NONEXISTENCE I’LL REVERT BACK INTO THAT USELESS BOY WHO COULDN’T DO ANYTHING BUT CRY OVER ALL OF HIS IRREPARABLE FLAWS! HAVE YOU NOT A MIND TO UNDERSTAND HOW HARROWING THAT WOULD SEEM?! HOW AGONIZING IT WOULD FEEL?!

Protagonist: But just for once you’d be real! You’d be YOU!

Xaje: WHAT IF I DON’T LIKE ME!?-

*For a moment, he could almost feel the ever so familiar trickle of teardrops making their escape from the prison of his eyes. A distant memory he longed to forget. One that belonged to a heart whom he wished to permanently discard. A feeling that was far too tired of being caged. But still, he refused to let it out, not here, not now, & especially not in front of this overtly gifted hero. Thus, he silenced himself, just as he had done countless times before, he denied his being of a true release, masking the pain with a false sense of anger & cruel empowerment instead. Destroying the bud of a newly sprouted heart.*

Xaje: I- … Look… My motivations may not be the clearest, but I know there’s one thing I’ll definitely need in order to get to them: Power, & you along with your little companions can provide me with just that. So, till the time comes, you’ll stay put & do as I say, you’re the bait in this operation of mine, is that clear?

Protagonist: Xaje please-

Xaje: Is. That. Clear?

Protagonist: … Yes…

Xaje: Good.

*Upon successfully implementing the forced agreement, Xaje swiftly turned to leave the otherwise vacant quarters, intending to keep the Keyblade Wielder locked up until they would become of further use.*

Protagonist: Wait!-

*Reluctantly, he stopped in his tracks to look back at them, a distinct scowl evident in his gaze.*

Xaje: Ugh, what could you possibly need now fool?

Protagonist: Promise me something, please-

Xaje: Tch- & just what might that be?

Protagonist: Do whatever it is that you must, destroy me if you have to, but please, don’t hurt my friends! They may seem a little hardheaded at times but that’s only because they never knew you like I did!… They never knew how different you used to be… How kind you once were…

*The everlasting gratitude could be felt in their words, still gentle & so very patient despite their captor’s deeply contrasting demeanor. I suppose you’d expect no less from a hero.*

Xaje: Fine… Though I’d prefer not to keep any promises, I’ll do my best to uphold your wishes this one time. But be warned, don’t allow yourself to become too expectant now P/N. When the time comes for me to fight, I’ve nothing left but to do so. Understand?

Protagonist: Yes, I understand…

Xaje: Very well then, I believe now would be a good time for me to leave?

Protagonist: O-Of course…

*Resisting the urge to roll his tired eyes, he advanced towards the threshold. Nearly making his escape when a certain naively gracious voice called out to him from behind… Again.*

Protagonist: Hey- Uh Xaje?- Just one last thi-

Xaje: WHAT IN THE NAME OF KINGDOM HEARTS COULD YOU POSSIBLY HAVE LEFT TO SAY?!

Protagonist: T-THANK YOU!- I really mean it by the way…

Xaje: … Whatever… Your cheapened gratifications mean nothing to me either way. In fact, I’d appreciate it so much more if you’d just learn to quiet that insufferable voice of yours. Hmm? What do you say?

*Shrugging in a rather sarcastic manner, he left. For real this time. Listening with his eyes closed as the door shut behind him, sending a melancholic echo all throughout the elegant palace of sorrowful souls. Leaving his prisoner to wallow in their accepted despair.*

-𝙵𝚒𝚗

Progress shots:

[yastaghr]

The Hunt for the Nest

I don’t usually post twice in one day, but @lythecreatorart needs some cheering up and I just finished this fic! It’s some SFW Errink fluff!

Summary: Error wants to leave a mark on the Doodle Sphere that his boyfriend, Ink, has just shown him. He comes up with a cheeky scheme to not only leave one, but tease Ink at the same time.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565958

Error dusted off his hands happily, staring up at his handiwork. A giant nest of strings hung between two of the doors in Ink’s Doodle Sphere. Ever since the artist had invited him into his zone, Error had been trying to think up the perfect way to leave his mark on the island-filled space. His mind had kept wandering back to his strings. What else could be more him than that? The problem was what to do with them. Eventually, one day when he was visiting Birdtale, Error had the idea. Why not build a nest? He had seen non-sentient birds build them, and the bird-brains here did, too. Surely he could make something similar with string. And here it was!

The whole thing was easily big enough to hold both of them, even with the sprawl that artist mistakenly called sleeping. There were soft blankets inside and pillows, too. All, of course, were blue. Blue was his favorite color. Besides, Error wanted to use his own strings for this for… reasons. Someone else’s simply wouldn’t do.

Now came the fun part of building this: using the thing to tease Ink with. His plan was foolproof. It needed to be. Ink was definitely a fool.

Error opened up a quick portal out of the Doodle Sphere and into a random universe. He then jumped through about fifty other portals, sometimes opening up multiple holes or jumping back through the one he’d entered with, to muddy the trail. Only after he was starting to get tired did Error open the portal to the world he really wanted; it was the one that Ink was in. Why that idiot spent so much time in this universe was beyond him. There was nothing here except darkness. There wasn’t even a Sans. It was just empty, boring black everywhere you looked. A blank that its creator had abandoned long ago.

Ink spun around to face him even though Error knew he hadn’t made any noise. At first his face was just… blank. Blank just like this universe was. But then his eye lights, a blue heart and a green question mark, returned and a smile lit up his face. “Hey, Error! I was just thinking about you! Isn’t it weird that you would show up right after that?”

Error, thoughts derailed by the skatterbrain of the monster he loved, said, “i dOn't kNoW. wHy wErE YoU ThInKiNg aBoUt mE, oR Do i wAnT To kNoW?”

Ink grinned. His eye lights changed to an orange diamond and a yellow exclamation point. Uh oh. That wasn’t good at all.  “Oh! I was just thinking about how I’ve never seen you eat sushi. Do you like sushi?”

“WhAt-” Error started to say.

“I don’t like sushi because the little white thingies they use always get stuck up my nose,” Ink carried on talking, oblivious.

“yOu'rE NoT SuPpOsEd tO-” Error tried again.

“But at the same time I do like sushi because that little green stuff they put on the side makes my nose run! It’s really nice when I’ve got a cold. Just a drop of that and I’m cle-”

It was Error’s turn to interrupt. “INK!!!!”

Ink closed his mouth and looked at him, his left eye light shifting from the diamond into a blue heart. “What is it, Glitchy?”

“i'vE GoT A PrEsEnT FoR YoU.”

Those magic words had Ink’s full attention. He practically quivered with it. It was pathetic (definitely not impressive, no way) how much Ink gave off the impression that he was an exclamation mark in a skeletal body. “Gimme!”

“iT'S NoT HeRe, DuMbAsS,” Error said, rolling his mismatched eye lights fondly, “iT'S HiDdEn. If yOu wAnT It yOu hAvE To fInD It."

Now both of Ink’s eye lights were exclamation points: one green, one yellow. “Ooh! A puzzle gift! Those are the best kind! Where did you hide it? And don’t say “the multiverse” this time. That was almost impossible!”

Error chuckled. That had been a good one. Ink had been searching for weeks for that special easel Error had… acquired for him. He’d finally found it in Chocotale #021. “i dOn't kNoW WhAt yOu'rE TaLkInG AbOuT. i'm nOt gOiNg tO SaY ThAt. I WaS GoInG To sAy iT'S HiDdEn iN ThE DoOdLe sPhErE.”

Ink pouted. “That’s almost as bad! The Doodle Sphere has an island for every universe in the multiverse! You know that! It’s huge! It’ll take me days to search it all!”

Error’s grin was definitely cheeky. He was a glitch! What fun could a glitch have if there wasn’t a little cheek in his life? “yOu'd bEtTeR GeT StArTeD, tHeN, sQuId. ThAt pReSeNt iSn't gOiNg tO FiNd iTsElF!”

=====

Several days later, Ink panted and leaned against the door to Ketotale. He’d been searching non-stop all this time, and he still couldn’t find that damned gift. He felt like he’d searched everywhere at least once, and it wasn’t nearly as much fun anymore - now it was just frustrating. So, Ink did the best thing he could think of doing, his default when a problem grew boring; he searched for someone to pester into helping him. Lucky for him, there was one monster who could be guaranteed to be helpful right now: Error.

Ink found him in Chocotale, which wasn’t that surprising. Error loved chocolate, so an entire world made out of nothing else was bound to appeal. He was munching on the shutters of someone’s house. Ink would have chastised him, but he knew for a fact that most of the inhabitants of Chocotale now had Destroyer Insurance™. That was absolute genius.

Ink poked the monster he wanted in his life more than any other in the back. Error glanced over his shoulder, an unimpressed expression on his face. He finished chewing the chocolate in his mouth with agonizing slowness. Ink stuck his tongue out at him. Rude. “i tHoUgHt yOu wErE SeArChInG FoR My pReSeNt. DiD YoU GeT BoReD AlReAdY? iT'S OnLy bEeN FoUr dAyS. yOu uSuAlLy lAsT LoNgEr tHaN ThIs.”

Ink huffed. “I have been! I’ve been looking nonstop all this time! I swear I’ve searched the entire Doodle Sphere, but I can’t find anything out of place! At least give me a hint, Error. Please~!”

Error rolled his eyes and turned back to his meal. The shutters were more than half destroyed at this point. Oh, well. “tHaT SoUnDs lIkE A PeRsOnAl pRoBlEm tO Me. I'M NoT GoInG To gIvE YoU AnY HiNtS UnTiL It's bEeN At lEaSt a wEeK.”

Ink’s pout was really something to behold. He had no idea what it looked like, but it usually worked on Error like nothing else would. Of course, for it to work Error would have to actually see it. Right now he couldn’t. Thus, the pokes would begin. They were spaced just far enough apart and just firm enough that Error couldn’t ignore them. Ink also moved the spot he was poking all around Error’s back at random so he couldn’t get used to the sensation in a particular place.

Error groaned and spun around to face him, annoyance in his eyes. “fInE! wHaT Is iT YoU WaNt tO KnOw, SqUiD?”

Ink grinned. Yes! Score! He won, and now he could ask… what’d he want to ask again? “Um…”

The glitch rolled his eyes. “tYpIcAl. HoW CaN YoU SaY YoU'Ve sEaRcHeD ThE EnTiRe dOoDlE SpHeRe iF YoU CaN'T EvEn rEmEmBeR WhAt wE'Re tAlKiNg aBoUt fOr tEn mInUtEs?”

A lightning bulb went off in his head. “Oh! Yeah! How is it that you can hide something in the Doodle Sphere that I know like the back of my hand? You’ve only spent a little bit of time there before, and it’s huge!” Error looked down. Ink followed his eyes to see his gloved hand. Oh, yeah. He didn’t exactly know what the back of his hand looked like, did he? “Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best metaphor, but you know what I mean!”

Error chuckled. “yEs, I Do. Do yOu, tHoUgH?”

It was Ink’s turn to glare. “Wow, rude. What have you been doing while I’ve been searching alone, hanging out with the Bad Sanses again?”

“wHo sAiD YoU WeRe sEaRcHiNg aLoNe?” Error said, and then he froze. Ink grinned triumphantly. Ah hah! Error had been following him, had he? “...CrAp, I ShOuLdN'T HaVe sAiD ThAt.”

“Too late, Mr. Stalker! What were you even doing following me around? Making sure I didn’t find it?” Ink asked, not really expecting an answer.

“mAyBe…” Error admitted.

Ink narrowed his eyes. “And how were you doing that? You weren’t distracting me because I didn’t see you there, so what…?”

“oKaY, oKaY! i wAs mOvInG It, OkAy? AnY TiMe yOu gOt cLoSe tO ThE PrEsEnT I WoUlD MoVe iT SoMePlAcE ElSe. I DiDn't wAnT YoU FiNdInG It tOo sOoN, dId i?” Error finally admitted the infuriating truth.

“Cheater!” Ink accused the monster he loved, “That’s cheating! No fair!”

Error rolled his eyes. “oH, tHaT'S So mAtUrE, iNk. It's nOt lIkE YoU DiDn't cHeAt lAsT TiMe, EiThEr. ReCrUiTiNg yOuR ViSiTiNg dOpPlEgAnGeR In oRdEr tO MaKe mE ThInK YoU'Ve fIgUrEd oUt hOw tO BrEaK PhYsIcS WiThOuT MaGiC Is sO ChEaTiNg.”

Ink huffed. “Fine then. I still think this is too much. You owe me a favor for this!”

“fInE,” Error huffed back at him, “wHaT KiNd oF FaVoR DiD YoU HaVe iN MiNd? dId yOu wAnT Me tO KnIt yOu sOmEtHiNg? PuT AnOtHeR UnIvErSe oN ThE UnToUcHaBlE LiSt?”

Ink’s triumphant grin returned. “I want you to show me where this present is!”

Error blinked at him. Ink knew that expression. It was one of bewilderment. “tHaT'S AlL? yOu jUsT WaNt mE To hElP YoU FiNd mY PrEsEnT? rEaLlY?”

“Yeah!” Ink said with a smile. “I didn’t say it was going to be a big favor, and I want to know!”

“Do yOu wAnT Me tO Do tHaT NoW?” Error asked, still stunned.

“Yeah! Come on, Glitchy, let’s go!” Ink said, grabbing Error’s hand and pulling out Broomy. He was just about to spill some ink for a portal when Error pulled his hand out of Ink’s. The artist eyed Error with confusion in his eyes.

“tHeRe's nO FuCkInG WaY We'rE TaKiNg oNe oF YoUr pOrTaLs. ThEy mAkE Me sIcK To mY StOmAcH,” Error complained, sticking his tongue out and cocking his hand to act. “i'm gOiNg tO OpEn mY OwN PoRtAl. If yOu sTiLl wAnT To uSe yOuR MoNsTrOsItY YoU CaN. i'lL MeEt yOu aT ThE HoUsE.”

With that, Error stepped through a glitching portal into the gold-tinted landscape. Ink quickly dove in after him. He had intended to roll to his feet, but he misjudged the height of the portal off the ground and ended up planting face-first into the dirt. He spat out a mouthful of dirt and grass. It didn’t taste too bad, honestly. It was just… weird. Granulated and chlorophyll-y. Yep, definitely weird.

“aRe yOu dOnE EaTiNg tHe fUcKiNg dIrT Or aRe yOu gOiNg bAcK FoR AnOtHeR MoUtHfUl?” Error’s glitchy voice asked from above him. Ink jumped up, spat out another piece of grass, and smiled at the monster who fascinated him more than any other. As was typical for him, Error said, “wOw, YoUr tEeTh aRe aLmOsT A PrOpEr cOlOr nOw! StIlL ToO BlUe, BuT ThAt's tO Be eXpEcTeD. yOu nEvEr cOuLd mAnAgE A PrOpEr yElLoW, eVeN ThAt tImE YoU TrIeD To dReSs uP As mE FoR ThE CoStUmE BaLl. ReAlLy, WhAtEvEr mAdE YoU ThInK My tEeTh aRe tHe sAmE CoLoUr aS MaRmAlAdE?”

Ink tapped his chin, trying to remember whatever event Error was talking about. He couldn’t. “Did that really happen, or are you making something up again?”

Error grinned, “i'm mAkInG SoMeThInG Up.”

“Oh. Yay.” Ink said it with as little emotion as he could get without taking paint thinner. “Can we go find my present now?”

Error rolled his eye lights, but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face. “yEaH, yOu rAiNbOw bAsTaRd. We cAn gO FiNd yOuR PrEsEnT. fOlLoW Me.” He turned on his heel and walked to the edge of the island. Then he leapt up to the next one.

Ink rolled his eye lights and just used his paint. It was so much faster! He could just use the puddles of paint that every island had and teleport without needing to jump.

They went between enough islands that Ink had forgotten what they were searching for. All he knew was that he was following Error somewhere. When he saw it, though, he knew exactly what it was. The nest was hanging between Pediatale #002 and Underhood #410. It looked amazing! It was huge, and it was full of pillows, and it was cool!

Ink found himself getting so happy that he started floating. He giggled, the extreme amount of happiness he was using overriding any fear that he might drift away. Then that teeny bit of fear vanished when Error’s strings wrapped around his ankle.

“dOn't fLoAt aWaY NoW, sQuId. GeT BaCk dOwN HeRe aNd cUdDlE WiTh mE!” Error demanded.

Ink giggled some more and complied. He let Error’s strings tow him into the nest, where he floated down to Error’s side. He nestled into the soft, fluffy bed of the nest and sighed. This was just about perfect.

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 21

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Calypso and Annabeth have an important encounter

A/N: Sorry for the lateness! It’s time for some Annabeth action. Just a fair warning, since next Friday is the Christmas day and the Friday after that the New Year, I am not sure when I'm going to be able to post again. Be prepared for at least one week's break, possibly even two. But don't worry because more is definitely coming.

I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!!

Calypso is the bolded text and Hazel the regular in the texting part.

Words: 2300+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

Getting Leo to talk to her again was a huge weight off of Calypso’s shoulders, but there was still more to be done. Annabeth still kept to herself during the history lectures and Calypso didn’t want to force her to talk; she felt Annabeth should be the one to initiate it. From what Calypso had heard, Piper had tried to talk to her earlier, but so far Calypso hadn’t noticed any significant changes in Annabeth’s behavior. When she walked into the lecture hall that day, she noticed the blonde girl on the opposite side of the room, focused on her book. Letting a small sigh out of her mouth, she went to her usual seat pretty far from Annabeth.

Since the lecture wouldn’t start for a few more minutes, Calypso decided to use the time by checking her phone. When she opened her WhatsApp, she considered for a moment to whom she should text. Her first instinct told her she should contact Leo, but she imagined he was probably busy going to his own lecture at that moment, so she ended up scrolling through her other contacts instead. Noticing that Hazel seemed to be online, she started typing to her.

10:05: Hi, Hazel

10:05: Hi there! Was just thinking about you!

10:06: You were? How come?

10:06: Frank just texted me that on his morning jog near the campus today he had run into someone he had apparently recently met somewhere (he didn’t tell me where exactly).

10:07: and they had talked for a while.

10:07: At some point Frank mentioned the guy’s first name was Leo. I’m pretty sure it was /the/ Leo!!

10:08: How can you be so sure? I’m sure there are plenty of Leos around this campus. It’s not a rare name.

10:09: no but hear me out. The description matches with what you’ve told me. He said he’s a mechanic with a dog and when I asked Frank what he looked like, he said ‘dark hair, scrawny, eyes look like there’s some mischief going on in that head of his all the time but he’s not actually that bad when you talk to him’

10:09: I admit that does sound like the Leo I know

10:09: I told you! What a small world it is, apparently the boys we’re interested in know each other!

10:10: Still feels so weird when you put it that directly. You’re the only one who knows so far. So please, if you somehow happen to see him as well, don’t say anything.

10:10: Alright, I won’t. But what are /you/ waiting for? If he’s anything like the boys in our art class I’m sure he’s all over you by now.

10:10: Hazel!

10:11: Sorry, sorry. But you did talk to him after that… situation you had?

10:11: I did. We’re good now. Thanks for the advice the other day, by the way. It did help.

10:12: Ha, so you’re saying I gave you good advice. Could that mean that maybe you should also reread what I just said a moment ago?

10:12: Sorry, I gotta go. Something came up. TTYL!

10:13: Calypso!!

10:13: That’s so rude :P

Calypso hadn’t lied, though. She had noticed someone sneaking from the other side of the hall to the seat behind her, and that someone happened to be her friend to whom she hadn’t properly spoken for several weeks now. Trying to stay on her seat as neutrally as possible, still watching her now dark phone screen, she waited for Annabeth to start the conversation.

There was a tap on her shoulder. “Cal…” she finally heard Annabeth’s familiar voice say.

“Yeah?” Calypso asked tentatively, slowly turning on her seat to see the speaker.

“I think we should talk,” Annabeth stated, sounding more like her usual self.

“Um, sure,” Calypso answered but didn’t have time to say more when the professor stopped her, starting the lecture. “After this class, OK?”

“Right.” Annabeth nodded. Then she turned her focus to the professor, but Calypso noticed that not for long. She started doodling something into her notebook and was tapping on the floor with her foot, a habit that Calypso had noticed was very familiar to Leo, especially when he was nervous. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that Annabeth also had dyslexia and ADHD like him. The information seemed to come to her so naturally… but before the Percy incident, Annabeth had revealed that especially when she had been younger she usually had had to read the textbooks at least 5 times before she had finally absorbed what she had read. Later on, with the help of a teacher that actually understood her learning disability, she had learned some other methods that seemed to help her. One side of Calypso thought that it was relieving to see Annabeth show signs of weakness because usually she seemed so good at everything she did that it was mildly intimidating.

Soon Calypso realized that she herself had trouble focusing on what the professor was explaining while thinking about what she should tell Annabeth after the class. What could she say that she already hadn’t in the previous time? That she absolutely hated Annabeth’s boyfriend’s guts? That her flatmate made her feel weird things when they were in the same room so there was absolutely no need to be jealous?

Once the lecture was over, Calypso packed her things and gestured to Annabeth that they should have their conversation outside the lecture hall. They were walking silently until most of their fellow students had split into their own directions and found a quiet spot by the windows. There were some armchairs spread around the corridor to make it seem more comfortable and the girls sat down on two of them.

“I take it you may have changed your mind about me,” Calypso said directly once she had settled on her seat, feeling there was no need to tiptoe around the topic.

“I… yeah,” Annabeth started, and for a brief moment Calypso thought she showed a tiny bit of fragility. Suddenly she realized that maybe Annabeth wasn’t being her usual confident self, because she wasn’t that great at dealing with her feelings. Things like maths, chemistry and physics were simple to her because there were certain rules that needed to be applied. But the human mind was harder to read, Calypso knew that much. “Sometimes I think there are two different Annabeths: one that is very protective and jealous when it comes to the people she cares about, and then there’s the rational Annabeth who tries to yell to the other one that she is being ridiculous. I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

Calypso shook her head. “No, I think I can understand why it bothered you. I hate keeping things from you, but I promised to myself… I mean, it is safer to not get you guys involved.”

“But… why? What could happen?” Annabeth asked, folding her arms.

“I’m not going to go to details but my father… I’m sure you have figured out by now that he is not a nice guy. When he doesn’t like someone, or someone tries to get into his way… Good things don’t usually follow that. And I mean it. There is a very good reason why I moved this far from my previous home. To be honest, I would have liked to go all the way to Greece but that just wasn’t possible.”

“So you’re saying that your father is what you’re afraid of? And he could get us - I mean your friends - into trouble if you shared too much information with us?” Annabeth collected the pieces of the puzzle together.

“Basically, yes. But please, don’t ask more. I may already have said too much,” Calypso said worriedly.

“Don’t worry. My lips are definitely sealed,” Annabeth reassured her.

“Thanks.” Calypso hesitated a bit. “Um, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” Annabeth nodded.

Calypso shifted a bit on her seat, trying to get more comfortable. “If I’m honest, I was not expecting you to forgive me that whole Percy thing that easily. What changed your mind?”

“Well, let me just tell you that you have some very good friends who managed to persuade me.” Annabeth gave her a playful smile.

“Huh? Who?” Calypso knew that Piper had talked to Annabeth but she didn’t know there were others as well.

“First of all, Percy convinced me that there was absolutely no reason to be jealous. I’m not going to tell you how he did it, but he can be pretty sweet when he wants to. Besides, between you and me: Seaweed Brain just can’t lie to me. I can read him like a book.” Annabeth’s smile only widened as she said that.

“OK.” Calypso didn’t think she wanted to hear more about that topic.

“But that wasn’t all. Piper also talked to me,” Annabeth added.

“What did she say?” Calypso asked curiously.

Annabeth’s eyes started sparkling mischievously. “A lot of things,” she started, “but she reminded me of some events that happened before Percy’s arrival that evening.”

“I don’t understand you now,” Calypso pretended to be stupid even though she was already guessing where Annabeth was going with her statement. “What events?”

“I don’t know…” Annabeth tapped her fingers against her forehead. “I think hugging, cupcake sharing and flirty bickering was involved. Keyword: think. I guess the people involved know more about that than I do.”

“That was… that was just us being friendly!” Calypso rushed to deny. “And what was so flirty about our bickering? We do that all the time and I’m not trying to…”

“Relax, Cal,” Annabeth stopped her. “It just kind of reminded me of me and Percy. But if you say so…”

Calypso groaned slightly. “Fine, you won. Again. Maybe… I may be starting to like him. But that doesn’t mean anything. He probably doesn’t like me back. And it wouldn’t work out for various reasons. I… When I moved here, I really thought I could just forget about everything that happened in my past and start to live my life. But it turns out that my past is still following me and stopping me from forming functional relationships. Besides… none of my former relationships worked. I may have been a kid back then but I made some bad decisions and it wrecked my self confidence. I don’t want to get hurt again and I also don’t want to hurt Leo. He has a very good heart, despite his weirdnesses…”

“Calypso, I know from my own experiences that ghosts of your past can be hard to fight. I have had plenty of family issues of my own in the past and they have probably influenced my later decisions, I admit that. But you seem to have taken an attitude that you have to deal with it alone. But you don’t. Let us help you. Maybe I can’t speak for all of us but I know I’m not afraid of your father. It is always possible to fight if you just come up with a good strategy.”

“This is probably a weird comment but that sounded like something I’d imagine the goddess Athena say. Are you sure you’re not her? Or related?” Calypso attempted to joke.

“Last time I checked, all of us were regular people,” Annabeth chuckled. “I admit I’m probably not quite as advanced in the greek mythology as you are although I have studied some of it, of course. But your question reminded me of this book series I read as a kid: Peter Johnson and the Olympians. The characters in it were children of Greek gods and I always wished that I’d be like one of the main characters who was a daughter of Athena.”

“Ooh, I read that series too!” Calypso said enthusiastically. “It was kind of cute although now that I know more about history and Greek mythology, not all the characters are quite like I picture them in my head. But I appreciate the effort to make the mythology more known to young readers.”

“Right! I agree.” Annabeth nodded before realizing they had gotten pretty far from the original topic.  “Sorry, we got a bit sidetracked here. I seriously do hope that you’ll let us help if needed. I myself am gonna try to be more patient and let you do it on your own terms, though.”

“Thanks, Annabeth. Um, about that Leo part, though…” Calypso felt her cheeks heat again and she wanted to curse her silly mind for reacting like that every time she thought about her flatmate. “Would you please be kind and keep it between us? I just really am not ready to deal with that yet…”

“Fine. I’ll let it be. For now. But maybe think about it. Who knows, you could be surprised by what might happen…” Annabeth said mysteriously.

“What do you mean?” Calypso frowned.

“Like I said, there are people who are ready to help you carry your burden even though you’re too absorbed by your issues to notice that. That’s all.”

“O-kay,” Calypso said suspiciously, wondering what Annabeth’s statement implied.

“You should know that one of the people who talked with me was Leo. He said he had noticed that you were feeling pretty down since the… incident and that you seemed to blame yourself for everything. And that you also felt very bad about not being honest. That’s what really opened my eyes and made me decide that I need to get over my grudge that doesn’t even make sense. I got what I wanted, didn’t I? Logically thinking, you should be the one who’s mad at me.”

“That Leo…” Calypso was so focused on that part for a moment that it took her a while to register what else Annabeth had said. “Um, sorry. To be honest, I think the Calypso from a couple of years ago would have been mad. But my priorities have changed and I also realized that Percy is way happier with you.”

“I’m glad you’re not holding a grudge, though,” Annabeth said.

“Life’s too short for that,” Calypso shrugged.

“I guess so. So, we’re friends, right?”

“Right,” Calypso confirmed, giving Annabeth a genuine smile. Some hope had risen in her heart again and she made a mental note to thank a certain mechanic later at home.

[justlookfrightened]

Blast from the Past

Bitty stared at the screen.

This was something he wasn’t expecting.

Brian, with the bright blue eyes and the curly brown hair, the broad shoulders and muscular legs. Brian, the first boy who ever tried to kiss him. Brian, whom Bitty had been drooling over for two years when he leaned in one evening after giving Bitty a ride home when Coach got tied up with something after school.

Bitty had scrambled out the door of Brian’s truck protesting, “I’m not like that, really!”

He’d never seen Brian alone after that. Brian had graduated and gone away to some little college in Florida, then Bitty had graduated and come to Samwell, where it took him months to tell anyone that he was like that. Very much so.

“What’s up, bro?” Lardo asked.

She had come to the library with him, ostensibly to get work done, but it seemed like her notebook was filling up with more doodles than notes. Then again, who was he to talk? He was checking his old Yahoo mail account, which was full of ads for cooking and video equipment.

Where there was a message from what -- two weeks ago? -- from a boy he hadn’t thought of in years. (That wasn’t true. A boy he hadn’t wanted to think about in years.)

“You look like you’re seeing a ghost,” Lardo said. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Bitty said, closing out of the window. “Just an email from someone I used to know.”

“Doesn’t look like a happy memory,” she said. “Or happy news, I guess.”

“No, no news,” Bitty said. “Just one of Coach’s football boys. Wanted to say hello.”

“Oh,” Lardo said, and gave him an understanding look.

He hated that look. He hated the assumptions that it carried, and he hated that often, most of them were true.

“Didn’t he give you a hard enough time then?” Lardo asked. “Or does he want to make amends? Like part of a 12-step program?”

“Nothing like that,” Bitty said. “Brian was always nice to me. I guess he’s graduating, and looking at grad schools up here. He wanted to meet up.”

“If he was nice to you, why the shock?” Lardo asked.

“Just worlds colliding, I guess,” Bitty said. “It surprised me to hear from him. I don’t think I’ve seen him since I came to Samwell the first time. Before that, even.”

“You going to meet up?” she asked.

“The email was on an old account,” Bitty said. “He sent it like two weeks ago, and he was here and gone last weekend.”

“Are you going to answer him then?” Lardo said.

“I don’t know,” Bitty said. “It wasn’t like we ever had much in common.”

“Atta boy,” Lardo said. “Who needs a lunkheaded athlete in their life?”

“Haha,” Bitty said. “Better than a Harvard lawyer.”

Then he put his head down and pretended to focus on his French text to avoid the crumpled paper from her notebook that she was throwing at him.

Bitty didn’t look at the email again until he was alone in his room.

Hi, Eric!

I’d say I’m not sure you remember me, but I’m pretty sure you do, given what I did. First, I’m sorry if I scared you or offended you or whatever. You were just really cute and really fun and I wanted to kiss you right then. I guess you know I heard the rumors about you and I hoped you liked me that way too. When you didn’t, I was too embarrassed to say anything or apologize before I left for school. Then I never knew what to say after that.

Anyway, I’m heading to Boston to visit BU next weekend -- I got into a master’s program in statistics there -- and I remembered Coach said you ended up near Boston, so I thought maybe we could meet up. Don’t worry -- I’ve learned better manners! -- but it would be good to catch up.

I don’t know if this email is even active anymore, but I figured it was worth a try.

Brian

What did that even mean? What did Brian want? Did he still think Bitty was gay? Was Brian gay, or was he just experimenting back then?

When it had happened, Bitty had assumed that Brian was messing with him, that he wanted to make Bitty kiss him back and then tell the world that Bitty was gay. Within weeks -- after seeing Brian shoot him embarrassed looks at church over the summer -- Bitty thought that wasn’t true. Probably. Because, sure, Brian could have kissed him and crowed about how he duped the little gay boy, but he was pretty sure most of the football team would have drawn the line at locking lips. Too afraid they’d catch the gay germs, or something like that.

But that didn’t mean Bitty was ready to be out to anyone in Madison. Even someone who probably had caught on to all the longing looks Bitty been casting at him. Even someone who would be outing himself by making out with Bitty.

Now, well, Bitty was pretty sure Brian wouldn’t out him in Madison if Bitty did come out to him. But what if Brian wanted to be more than friends? And he knew Bitty had been crushing on him for so long? Bitty couldn’t say he had a boyfriend — there was no way he could tell Brian about Jack, and how would he explain not being able to introduce his boyfriend? Because it sounded like Brian was planning on being in Boston next year.

If Bitty didn’t answer, Brian would have no difficulty finding him.He’d be playing hockey in BU’s very own arena at least a couple of times.

He forwarded Brian’s email to his Samwell account before responding.

Hey, Brian! Great to hear from you! I’m sure you have nothing to apologize for. Congrats on BU! Sorry I didn’t respond sooner, but that is an old account I don’t check all the time. I’m at Samwell, a little ways outside Boston. But maybe you’ll see me playing hockey at your school next year!

Eric

There. Friendly, but not too friendly. Glad to hear from him, but not trying to set up a meeting. Brian would come to BU, get involved in his classes, make his own friends (get a boyfriend?) and forget he ever knew someone from his hometown who went to Samwell. Hopefully this would be the end of it.

It wasn’t the end of it. The very next day, there was a new email from Brian. He liked BU, he would probably end up in Boston because the program was so good, and he wanted to get out of the south, but he was afraid of the weather, haha. Maybe Eric could tell him if it was always as cold as it was when he visited?

Often much colder, Bitty wrote back, and the snow could pile up and make a mess of things, even if it was so pretty when it fell. 

Bitty wondered why Brian wanted to get out of the south -- the heat and humidity, general backwardness, or one kind of backwardness in particular? Brian hadn’t mentioned anything about his sexuality -- why would he, in this kind of casual chat (about the weather, even)? -- or a girlfriend or boyfriend. And Bitty hadn’t mentioned Jack.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing,” he told Lardo on the phone while he mixed the dough for scones. “I’m not flirting, I don’t think, but he was my crush for most of high school. I don’t think he’s flirting either, but he was never really good at words. I can’t tell him about Jack, but maybe I need to tell Jack about him?”

That, of course, was when Ransom and Holster came in.

“Tell Jack about who, bro?” Holster said. “Is someone bothering you?”

“Hush, I’m on the phone with Lardo,” Bitty said, but he knew it was a lost cause. As soon as he call ended, Holster started in again.

“Tell Jack about who?”

“This guy I went to high school with,” Bitty said, and sighed. “Okay, you nosey-parkers, how much did you hear?”

Ransom shrugged. “You can’t tell him about Jack,” he said. “But you think maybe you should tell Jack about him.”

Bitty nodded.

“Here’s the thing,” Bitty said. “I used to have a thing for him, but he was one of Coach’s football boys and I was sure he was straight, so he was totally unavailable. Until one night before he graduated he tried to kiss me and I got scared and said I wasn’t gay and ran away.”

“Scared?” Holster said. “He didn’t push --”

“Not like that,” Bitty said. “Just that he was doing it to mess with me. But now I don’t think he was, and I don’t know why he got back in touch, or what he thinks about me, or what to think about him. I mean, from what he’s emailed -- besides apologizing for what happened -- it seems like he’s just looking for a familiar face when he starts his grad program at BU. But I would have thought he’d have forgotten all about me by now.”

“Dude,” Ransom said. “I think you underestimate yourself. You’re very memorable.”

“And doesn’t everyone remember their first gay kiss? Or attempted assault?” Holster said.

“I really don’t think he meant it that way,” Bitty said. “He hadn’t ever listened to Shitty’s lectures on consent, remember. He probably thought it was romantic. And what if I wasn’t? His first, I mean? What if there were other gay boys in our school? That would have made such a difference for me. Anyway, should I tell Jack? Or would it upset him for no reason?”

“I don’t think Jack would be upset that you once had a crush on a guy,” Holster said. “Or that someone from Georgia is emailing you. But if it’s the same guy? I don’t know.”

“If he’s going to find out sometime, might as well be sooner rather than later,” Ransom said. “I mean, this is Jack we’re talking about. He’ll be reasonable.”

Then he snorted, and Bitty wanted to take umbrage in defense of Jack, but he couldn’t. Because Jack could be a little intense sometimes, and Bitty had no idea if that would mean he’d be jealous in this situation.

“Jack? Can I tell you something?”

Bitty was rolling out dough on the marble pastry board Jack kept in his kitchen just for Bitty while Jack drank a protein shake and stared at Bitty’s ass. Bitty would be staring at Jack in all his post-workout glory, but some conversations were better when they weren’t face to face.

“Sure, bud. What it is it?”

Bitty would have sworn he could feel Jack’s eyes move up to the back of his head. He turned the disk of dough, rolled another stroke, and said, “Remember when I told you you were my first everything?”

“Yeah?” Jack said, sounding like his curiosity was definitely aroused, but not alarmed. Yet.

“Maybe that wasn’t entirely true?” Bitty said. “Or it was, but it didn’t have to be?”

“Okay?” Jack said, now sounding confused. “What does that mean?”

“There was this guy who tried to kiss me once,” Bitty said.

“Rugby guy?” Jack said. “You told me about him. Like, right after it happened, remember?”

“No, not him,” Bitty said. “When I was in high school.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “Um, why are you telling me about a kiss that didn’t happen? Did something bad happen?”

“No, nothing like that,” Bitty said. “He leaned in, and I backed away and that was that. We never even talked about it.”

“I didn’t know you knew any other guys who weren’t straight when you were in high school,” Jack said, sounding more bemused than anything.

Bitty wrapped the rolled-out dough around his rolling pin to lift it and drape it into the pie plate before turning around. He could face Jack for this, really. Besides, it was too hard to gauge his reaction without seeing him.

“I didn’t know that either, until this particular guy tried to kiss me,” Bitty said. “And even then, I didn’t really think it was because he was attracted to me. Not at first, anyway.”

“Why not?” Jack said. “Have you seen yourself?”

“Did you see me when I was a freshman?” Bitty countered. “I looked about twelve. And this was a year before that.”

“You were still cute,” Jack insisted. “Anyway, why did you want to bring this up?”

“Because he’s gotten back in touch with me -- and he apologized for what happened but said thought I was cute,” Bitty said. “And he’s going to be in school in Boston next year, and he wants to maybe meet up.”

Bitty found he was looking down by the end of that, so he forced himself to meet Jack’s eyes. “I had the biggest crush on him in high school -- he was big and handsome and actually nice to me -- and I had no idea he wasn’t straight. But I don’t know what he wants now. I mean, it seems like he just wants a friend, but I don’t know, and I don’t know what to do.”

“About seeing him, you mean?” Jack said. “See him if you want to, don’t if you don’t want to. Are you worried he’ll spread the word about you being out back in Georgia? Or that he’ll try something with you?”

“Neither, really,” Bitty said. “I mean, I think if he’s still interested --”

“He probably will be, unless he’s with someone else,” Jack said.

“-- he’d take no for an answer. But how do I explain? If I say I have a boyfriend and I can’t introduce you? Or what if he thinks I’m leading him on? Or what if he actually believed I was straight -- can you believe I said that to him?”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, bud,” Jack said. “If it’s a connection you want to renew, go ahead. Don’t worry about the rest of it until it happens. Which wouldn’t be until next fall anyway, right?”

“Yes,” Bitty said. “He suggested getting together over the summer -- he wanted to see Coach again anyway -- but I said I was probably staying here, only not to say anything because I haven’t told Mama yet.”

“Sometimes things work themselves out,” Jack said. “You want to finish that pie and put it in the oven before I shower?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Could be,” Jack said. “If that’s how you want to take it.”

Then spring semester ended in a whirlwind of playoffs and becoming captain and Lardo and Ransom and Holster graduating and playoffs and explaining to Mama that he wasn’t coming home and the Stanley Cup win and kissing Jack on the ice and then having to talk to Mama again.

In all of that, Bitty’s worries about Brian shrank to the size of a speck of dust. Until he got an email at the beginning of August.

Hi, Eric!

I guess you’re pretty busy. Now I think I know why you didn’t want to come back to Georgia this summer, and I can’t say I blame you. And you’re captain of your team this year, Coach said. Congratulations! I totally get it if you don’t have any time this fall, but if you want to, I’d still like to get together. If only to apologize for what an ass I was, especially since I know what high school was like for you. I guess I feel guilty because I knew I wasn’t straight, but I was able to pass, so to speak. But it turns out you’re doing great, and I’m happy about that. I guess I’m also a little curious about what it’s like living somewhere where I can be more open.

Hope to see you soon,

Brian

That was how Eric found himself seated with Brian in TD Garden, watching the Falconers play the Bruins in the preseason. It was the last tune-up, so most of the regulars, including Jack, were playing, but the atmosphere was more relaxed than a game that would count

Over the course of the game, Bitty told Brian about Jack (“I guess I have a bad habit of assuming hot athletes are straight.”) and Brian told Bitty about dating around -- quietly -- at  the small school where he played football.

Once the game was over, Bitty stood up.

“Come on,” he said. “We can wait outside, or just find a restaurant. Jack’ll be at least 45 minutes or so, maybe an hour, but then we can get dinner with him. If that’s okay with you.”

“Absolutely,” Brian said. “I wouldn’t miss meeting your boyfriend.”

[choupichoups]

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.7

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post.

He looks tired, is what Lucas first thinks, watching Eliott’s story over and over. He’s memorized Eliott’s words by now, talking about the new project he’s working on with Idris, explaining why he’s been missing for four days. It feels good to see him again, especially when Eliott had gone radio silent after their early morning conversation on Wednesday. But maybe it’d be better if Eliott just takes a nap for the day.

lucallemant Are you ok? 

srodulv Yes, why?

lucallemant  Did you get some sleep?

srodulv Is my little hedgehog worried about me? 

lucallemant Yeah

srodulv Fuck  Ok, yes, I’m a bit tired from staying up so much but I’m really ok Please don’t cancel our date

lucallemant What date

srodulv :( I made plans and everything

Lucas melts at that, fingers hovering over the phone screen. How dare Eliott be so cute? Lucas is out here just trying to look out for his well-being but he’s quickly learning that saying no to Eliott is an impossible feat. He’s made plans and everything.

lucallemant Well I guess if there’s already a plan… Okay :) I’ll see you later

srodulv Can’t wait

When Lucas gets out of class, Eliott’s waiting for him outside, just like he said he would be. He’s sitting on the ground by the walls, sipping on an iced coffee with one hand free to doodle all over the notebook on his lap. Lucas takes a moment to just look at him. 

Other people are looking too, probably wondering what Eliott’s doing sitting on the floor at the science faculty. 

“Hey,” he says once he’s covered the distance between them. Eliott looks up, signature grin on the ready. “Did you wait long?” 

Eliott makes a vague noise, waving his drink around. “Oh!” He picks up the cup from his other side, handing Lucas another one of his overpriced guilty pleasure hot chocolate. “For you.”

“Thank you,” Lucas says, begging his brain to come up with something else to say. The last thing he wants to do is enter some kind of speechless stupor now that he's got Eliott in front of him. “How did you know about this?”

“About what?” Eliott gets up, dusting his pants off as he picks up his discarded backpack. 

“Hot chocolate.” 

“Ah,” he trails off, eyes shifting from Lucas and down to the drink in his hand. “I have my own sources.” 

“You’re really coming for my stalker title, are you?”

“Nah, you still have it, Mr. I watch every instagram story of yours.” 

Lucas rolls his eyes, jogging a little to keep up with Eliott’s fast pace. “If I posted those as much as you did, you'd be watching mine too.” 

Eliott laughs, slowing his steps considerably. “Confident, are we?”

“Very.” Lucas takes a careful sip of his drink-- it’s pleasantly warm but no longer hot. Eliott’s been sitting there for a while then. “Where are you taking me, stalker?” 

The sun forms a golden glow around Eliott’s tousled hair, highlighting a mirage of colours in the strands. Lucas just manages to suppress a smitten sigh when Eliott smiles down at him-- he really hated that one poetry elective he’d taken in high school but he’d have no problem writing sonnets about Eliott if you ask him to. 

“Dinner and a movie.”

“Dinner and a movie?”

“Yes, a classic.” 

“When you said dinner and a movie, I thought the movie part would be fancier.” Lucas walks around the living room, absently prodding at the many books displayed on the shelves. 

“Why fancy?”

“Aren’t you supposed to impress me?”

“You’re already impressed.”

Lucas laughs, turning around to join Eliott by the television because, of course, he wants to watch something out of his film collection rather than pick out a movie from Netflix like every other normal person. “Confident, are we?” 

“I’ve got you in my place right now, don’t I?” Eliott says, smile crooked and unfairly attractive in the dim light. Lucas doesn’t have anything to say to that. 

“Okay, well.” He chuckles under his breath-- he really should be used to Eliott by now so why is he still so goddamn nervous? “What kind of movies do you like?” 

“Romance.”

“Romance,” Lucas repeats, raising an eyebrow. How very fitting of Eliott to have romance as his favourite genre. “Really?” He browses through the pile on the floor and randomly picks out the first thing that catches his eye. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me The Notebook is your favourite film of all time.” Lucas holds the case up, laughter gaining volume when Eliott takes a little too long to reply. “Fuck!”

“It is not.” 

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s not!” Eliott snatches it off his hands. “The rain scene is iconic and Ryan Gosling was phenomenal in it, but it’s not.”

“So you’re a Ryan Gosling fan.”

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re judging me.” Eliott tucks The Notebook out of sight, searching vigorously through his DVD collection like he knows what he wants to watch now. 

Lucas puts his hands up, smiling. “Tell me more.” 

“He’s got good movies, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Ever seen La La Land?” 

“No.” Lucas watches him fondly, taking advantage of the fact that Eliott’s too busy with his rummaging to catch Lucas’ lovestruck gaze.

“You’re killing me. Seen Crazy, Stupid, Love?” 

“No.”

“Fuck. Yeah, we’re watching that.” Eliott grabs the title out of his pile before urging Lucas to sit on the couch while he sets up. Lucas sinks down into the cushions, utterly endeared by how excited Eliott seems at the prospect of watching this lame romcom (which he’s probably already seen multiple times) with Lucas. “Get ready to change your mind about romance films.”

“I have nothing against them.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m just more of a super hero movie kind of person.”

“Of course you are.” Eliott laughs, sitting close to Lucas despite the gigantic space he’d left, having squished himself comfortably against one end of the couch. 

And okay, the movie’s maybe a little funny. It doesn’t bore him like he’s initially expected-- though that may be due to Eliott whispering a running commentary close to his ears, forcing Lucas to stay focused at all times so that he doesn’t do anything stupid. Like cuddle up into Eliott’s shoulder or something. 

They get to the scene where Hannah dramatically rushes out into the night to find Jacob in the bar. “Does he always have a rain scene in all his films or what?” He whispers after a moment, watching a startled Jacob lift a soaking wet Hannah in his arms while they kiss. 

“It’s technically not in the rain.”

“Same thing, though. They keep using the same trope.” 

“True.” Eliott shrugs. “It’s all about the romantic ambiance. The sky pouring down, this special person in your arms, you can have that moment over and over and it doesn’t get old. Oh, and Ryan Gosling looks perfect for kissing in the rain.”

Lucas leans his head against the back of the couch, eyes scrunching shut as he laughs. “Bullshit. What does that even mean?” 

“What, you don’t see it?” Eliott’s laughing as well, pointing at the screen. “You know who else looks perfect for kissing in the rain?”

His heart thuds a warning in his chest, Lucas ignores it. “Who?” 

“Me,” Eliott whispers, lifting his eyebrows in a quick movement. “I want my Ryan Gosling moment, Lucas.”

Lucas snorts, backing further into the cushions behind him and hugging one of the pillows close to his chest. “Watch the movie.” 

Eliott’s smiling as he retreats, returning his eyes to the screen. 

At the halfway point, Eliott’s commentary gradually slows to a still and Lucas assumes that Eliott must have gotten too sucked into the movie.

But then he feels a weight landing on his shoulder and he has to consciously keep his body still, fighting against the instinct to flinch. He doesn’t want Eliott to startle awake, feeling a bit giddy and proud of himself even though he has nothing to do with the fact that Eliott falls asleep without any prompting on Lucas’ end. 

He keeps his eyes set on the movie, still as can be, breathing somewhat uneven despite his best efforts. The movie reaches the end credits soon enough but Lucas stays put-- the remote is on the coffee table, impossible to reach without dislodging Eliott from his shoulder. 

Ever so carefully, Lucas turns his head and smiles down at the sight. Eliott looks like an angel like this-- not that he doesn’t look like one at any point in time but the whole angelic thing he has going on is highlighted with his eyes closed and his features lax in sleep. 

Lucas gently rests his cheek against the unruly nest of hair beside him, shimmying into a more comfortable position before letting the silence lull him into rest. Just half an hour, he thinks. A little bit of a nap never hurt anyone.

He wakes up comfortably warm, the kind of warmth you only achieve once in a blue moon, when you hit the jackpot with a perfect blanket burrito that’s somehow more superior than the mediocre blanket burritos from every other night. Lucas snuggles deeper into it, sighing in approval when the arms around him tighten in response.

Wait.

Blinking awake, Lucas blearily pushes off from the embrace, one hand anchored on the chest he’s just been sleeping on while the other tries its best to rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Stop doing that,” Eliott admonishes, voice soft. Lucas thinks there’s something playing on the television screen but the sound has been muted. 

“What?” Lucas asks, confused. 

Eliott’s fingers encircle his wrist and bring it down from where he’s still got it over his eyes. “Stop looking so cute, I’m too tired to control myself.”

And he’s too sleepy to deal with Eliott’s flirting. Lucas thunks his head right in the middle of Eliott’s chest, earning a surprised oof that would’ve made him laugh if he didn’t feel so damn groggy. 

“What time is it?” His voice is muffled into Eliott’s sweater but luckily, he doesn’t have to repeat himself. 

“21h.”

Lucas groans. He has to go home now. 

“I’ll take you home,” Eliott says, somehow reading his mind. 

“It’s okay, I can go back by myse--”

“I’ll take you home,” Eliott repeats firmly, shifting from under Lucas so they can both get ready to leave. 

They take turns refreshing themselves in the bathroom, both a lot more awake now, especially when a cold blast of wind hits them right when they get outside. It’s drizzling by the time Lucas points out his building, arguing that he could have gone home by himself so Eliott could have stayed home and continued with his sleep. 

Eliott shakes his head, grinning down at him. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“What?”

“You could live an hour away, and I’d still walk you home.” 

Lucas swallows, not asking why. He thinks he knows the answer but he’s afraid of what it’ll do to his poor little heart if Eliott confirms it with that unapologetic honesty he has. 

Eliott takes him all the way to his apartment door where they stand facing each other, neither wanting to be the first to leave. 

“I guess this is where we say goodnight,” Eliott says, eyes crinkling with his smile. “Did you have fun?”

“The movie could have been better,” he teases, smiling when Eliott places a hand on his chest, mouth opening as if offended. 

“Honestly, Lucas. When will you stop hurting me?”

Lucas smiles, holding back a laugh. His neighbours might already be sleeping. “Sorry.”

“Are you really?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.” 

“I apologize sincerely,” he says, quoting his own words from Saturday. He tries not to think of what happened after he’d said those exact words last time and fails miserably. “Do you want to... uh...” He jerks his head in the general direction behind him, fiddling with the doorknob. 

Eliott huffs out a laugh. “No, it’s okay. I actually have an essay I gotta finish.” 

“Oh, okay.” Lucas hopes he doesn’t sound as disappointed as he feels. They literally just spent hours together at Eliott’s place. “Um, goodnight then.”

Eliott stops him from going inside and Lucas holds his breath as the other boy lifts a hand, fingers softly brushing away the strands of hair near Lucas’ eye. 

“Goodnight, Lucas.” He walks backwards, keeping his gaze on Lucas until he has to turn the corner for the elevators. 

Lucas doesn’t move for a while, listening for the echoing ring of the elevator opening and closing before shaking himself out of his daze. 

He steps inside his apartment, shutting the door with a soft click. It’s dark and quiet inside, meaning Yann still hasn’t come back from wherever he is. Lucas heaves out a sigh, leaning heavily against the door as he wills his heart to slow down. It’s been a little overdramatic for the whole day, being around Eliott and all— dramatic enough to have him worrying whether he’s about to experience a heart attack for every increase in its beating. 

The tree branches outside knock against the glass of their windows and Lucas draws closer to check on the weather. It’s pouring by now, prompting him to run around the room looking for the one umbrella he knows he and Yann have hidden somewhere.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, running back to the window to see if Eliott’s already made it outside. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He goes to his bedroom which he knows, for a fact, hides no elusive umbrella. He stands there in the middle, staring at the wall, breathing heavily. 

This is stupid. What is he doing? He doesn’t actually want the fucking umbrella. There’s something else he wants, he needs to do, like an itch under his skin, getting harder and harder to ignore. 

With renewed adrenaline stemming from out of nowhere, Lucas runs back out of the apartment, hopping down the stairs two at a time as he knows that the elevator takes way too long to come to his floor. 

Eliott’s barely crossed the street when Lucas spots him, shoulders hunched against the cold and hood up to cover against the rain. 

“Eliott!” Lucas calls out, shoes splashing against the wet pavement as he runs. “Eliott, wait!”

Eliott turns, looking genuinely surprised to see Lucas.  

“What are you doing?” Eliott asks once Lucas’s in hearing range, voice slightly raised to be heard over the pouring rain. 

Lucas shakes his head, hands trembling, looking up at Eliott despite the rain trying its damndest to pelt him into blindness. He squints against it, hoping for his shivers to go unnoticed. “I— I’m—”

“What?” Eliott steps closer, moving so he towers over Lucas enough to shield him from the outpour.

And fuck him. Fuck this boy for treating him so wonderfully. Effortless, like Lucas is his to take care of. “I’m apologizing.” 

He grabs the sides of Eliott’s hood and drags him down for a kiss. 

The press of their lips is no fireworks, no time standing still solely for the two of them-- no, it’s nothing like in the movies. It’s an inhale after submerging, an exhale after the first breath— freeing and vital. Only natural. 

Eliott’s hands come up to cup the back of his head, keeping him still as if afraid Lucas would pull away any time soon which, yeah, fat chance of that happening. His own hands slide down, gripping the soaked material of Eliott’s jacket, bringing him down, pulling him closer, more.

He feels those warm hands shift down, arms circling his waist in a tight grip before Eliott straightens up until he’s no longer bent over for the kiss. Lucas feels his feet leave the ground, but he doesn’t even care, opting to bury his hands inside the mess of Eliott’s hair, comfortably accessible from his elevated position. 

Lucas doesn’t make the connection until a while later, when Eliott’s just started to bite at Lucas’ lips, tongue a teasing presence in between, asking for permission that Lucas would have easily allowed if only he didn’t start laughing right at the same moment. 

Eliott groans, actually whining out an offended, “Lucas.”

“I’m sorry.” Lucas laughs, rearranging his arms to wrap around Eliott’s neck so he can squeeze him in a tight hug as he muffles his laughter into his own shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just… are you enjoying your Ryan Gosling moment?” He barely finishes his sentence before dissolving into wild laughter. 

He feels more than hears Eliott’s answering chuckles. “Stop making fun of my moment. It’s awesome.” 

“Sorry,” Lucas says again, still snickering even as their eyes meet for the first time since Lucas pulled him into the kiss. Stupidly enough, the eye contact flusters him more than anything and he breaks it, looking to the side as his fingers carefully trace the sides of Eliott’s face. “Stay with me tonight?” He asks, dropping his head a little so that their foreheads touch. 

Eliott only takes a second to respond, “Yeah.” Voice like a breath knocked out of his lungs. “Yeah, fuck that essay. I’m not going anywhere,” he says in a rush, angling up to catch Lucas’ lips in another searing kiss. 

Lucas smiles into it, lips parting to continue where they’d left off. 

[yoon-kooks]

Study Buddy

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader 

Genre: College!AU, Fluff 

Summary: You agree to share your notes for the upcoming midterm with the most popular boy on campus if he agrees to make it a study date. 

Word Count: 2.1k��

A/N: @chiwoopsie happy birthday and happy graduation! 😭🎉 

“In the last minute of class, I’d like to make an amendment to the syllabus,” the old feeble man at the front of the room says, waving around a paper with handwritten notes and arrows in the margin. As a professor of ancient history, he follows the ancient techniques of handling everything orally in person rather than through the convenience of emails and computers. “Surprise, surprise! Next week, we’ll be having our midterm. If you’ve been coming to class everyday and taking notes, you should be prepared… but if not, you best see me in office hours, or better yet, make a new friend!”

Ha! You’ve come to every single lecture thus far, and you’ve certainly taken notes, so you’ll be fine as long as you look over the material a few times before the exam. You can’t say the same for the large majority of the folks in your class, however. A long line has formed to speak to the professor about the midterm as soon as class ended. You recognize those students as the ones who rarely come to class, and for lack of a better word, they are fucked.

You watch the panicked students ask the professor about the content of the exam, a possible study guide, and extra credit opportunities. But your professor’s only response is, “If you’ve been coming to class, you should already know the answers.” And you’re living for it. You don’t even mind waiting at the end of the long line to ask a question out of genuine curiosity about today’s lecture on Ancient Egypt.

The best part, however, comes when the boy in front of you turns around and points at the open notebook in your hand.

“Wow, your notes are really pretty,” he says with an impressed eyebrow raise. You recognize his designer-boyfriend fashion and bright smile as that one kid who’s always doodling in the margins of his notebook—you know this because he always sits in the seat in front of you (he smells yummy like coconuts and vanilla, by the way!). He also just so happens to be a mega flirt and the most popular boy on campus, Jung Hoseok.

“Thanks,” you avert eye contact and stare down at your notes. Your notes might be “pretty” because you’re a diligent student who actually cares to pay attention to the lectures, but you have your suspicions on the intent of Hoseok’s compliment. Because more often than not, people have asked to take pictures of your pretty notes when they were too lazy to do it themselves.

Thankfully, before Hoseok even has a chance to ask for a picture of your notes, you point his attention towards the professor waiting for another desperate question about the exam.

“So, here’s the thing: I kind of missed last week’s lecture, so I don’t really have any notes for that day, so—”

“So make a new friend,” the professor cuts Hoseok off and makes eye contact with you. “For example, students like Y/N always do a phenomenal job on the written assignments, so I’m sure you can find someone to help you out with your dilemma.”

Your professor gestures not-so-subtly in your direction, Hoseok turns around, and you give them both a tiny wave. “A-anyway, I had a question about today’s—”

“Sorry, Y/N, I don’t have time for anymore questions right now... But please feel free to see me in office hours!” The old man, clearly in a rush, cuts you off. He nods to you and the boy before hustling out of the lecture hall. “Good luck studying, you two!”

“Oh…” You watch as the door slams shut behind the old man, trapping you with Jung Hoseok and an awkward silence. It wouldn’t be so bad if your professor hadn’t tried to push Hoseok into being your study buddy, but now you feel some sort of obligation to wait and see if he asks for your help. So you just stand there, pretending to be busy on your phone until he makes the first move.

“What were you going to ask him?” You suppose this is Hoseok’s way of breaking the silence.

“Just something I was curious about with the Sphix of Giza…” you shrug your shoulders. “Nothing related to the exam, if you were wondering.”

“So you’re not stressing over the exam like everyone else is?”

“Perks of coming to class and taking notes everyday, I guess,” you shrug again.

“Yeah, I missed one lecture and now I feel unprepared.” He frowns, running his fingers through his hair and ruffling it a bit. The coconutty-vanilla aroma must be his shampoo because, damn, you really got a good whiff of it just now. Not only is he trying to play the sympathy card with that adorable frown, but he’s also trying to intoxicate you with his own scent! Ha, not today, Satan!

“It’d be a whole lot easier for everyone if the professor just posted a study guide online, huh,” you say instead of offering up your pretty notes. Of course, you don’t actually mind that your professor opted not to make a study guide at the convenience of all the lazy students who failed to attend lecture. But that’s not something that the lazy students like Jung Hoseok would understand.

“That’s true, but I understand why he’s so against study guides and posting anything online for us.”

“You do?” You’re genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, he wants to reward those pay attention in class and punish those who skip class, right?” Hoseok tilts his head and it’s kind of cute. “It puts more of the responsibility on the students.”

You nod because he’s exactly right. Maybe he does understand… Or not.

“That being said,” Hoseok presses his palms together in a pleading manner. “Would it be possible for me to take a look at your notes? Just for the one lecture I missed?”

You just blink at the boy for a moment. If it were really just for one lecture, you wouldn’t mind too much. But this isn’t your first rodeo. It might start out as “just one lecture”, but eventually they’ll come back asking for more. Because they think they can take advantage of hardworking students like yourself. And if that’s the case with Hoseok, you’re certainly going to want something in exchange for your pretty notes.

“Fine, I’ll share my notes with you only if we make it a study date.” You nod to yourself, proud of your negotiation skills. If Hoseok agrees, then you have yourself a date with the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen. If he declines, then he doesn’t deserve to see your pretty notes and can perish along with his grade. It’s a win-win for you, though you do expect to be rejected. You might even prefer the rejection to avoid social interaction, considering you’re a strong believer in antisocial potatoism.

“Let’s have a study date then,” he says without hesitation. You’re caught off-guard by a cheeky smile before he takes your hand into his. “What’s your favorite coffee shop?”

“What—”

-

You alternate between staring into your caramel macchiato and staring at Hoseok taking a sip of his coffee. Why did a total hottie like Jung Hoseok agree to this study date? Or more importantly, who was the idiot that proposed the study date in the first place? Because it seems like more of an inconvenience for you when it would’ve been so much easier to let him take a photo of your notes and go home and never speak to him ever again. Now you’re stuck on a date with the hottie for the next hour or two. What an absolute tragedy.

When Hoseok opens his notebook, however, something does spark your curiosity about the boy—tiny, poorly drawn sphinxes in the margins of an otherwise empty page. Why does he even bother coming to class if he’s just going to sit there and doodle the entire time? At that point, you’d think it’d be a waste of time to even come to class. But before you have a chance to raise the question about his terrible art skills, he flips the page over to a fresh one.

“Mesopotamia,” you say, assuming it’s your cue to start filling the boy in on the lecture he missed.

“Ooh, like Babylon and shit…” he nods. You still haven’t brought out your own notes, but he obediently starts writing the lecture topic in bold block letters at the top of the page.

“Yeah, and also Sumer and Assyria and…” As you ramble on and on about the subject, you expect the boy to doodle like he always does in lecture. But to your surprise, he’s laser-focused on writing down bullet points of everything you’re saying, and when he misses something, he asks you for clarification.

At one point, he sets his pen down to let his hand rest and instead gives you his full attention—by staring right into your eyes! Flustered is an understatement to how you feel, looking back into his bright yet intimidating eyes. And although you tend to break eye contact and stumble over your words, your little mini lesson on Mesopotamia becomes more of a conversation than a lecture. Talking with an attractive boy is easier than anticipated.

“You aren’t going to doodle like you always do in class?” you pause your lesson because you’re genuinely curious and you need a break from Hoseok’s beautiful eyes piercing through your soul.

“Huh? Nah, that’s just what I do when I’m bored and trying to stay awake through a lecture,” Hoseok chuckles as he flips back through the older pages in his notebook. Rather than having a notebook of only doodles, it seems like he went back and added in notes from each respective lecture after the fact—perhaps by sweet-talking other good students like you. “Besides, you’re much more intriguing than our professor.”

“Wouldn’t it be a lot easier if you just take a picture of my notes?” You finally take out your notes and slide them over for Hoseok’s eyes to see. You want to test him. Because if you’re just another one of his note sources that he’s gonna toss aside after getting what he wants, you’d rather not waste anymore of your time with him.

“Why? Do you have to leave soon?” He checks his watch with another cute frown and starts chugging down his coffee.

“No, no, no.” You wave your hands so the boy doesn’t rush to finish all his coffee. “I was just saying that taking a picture would be a lot quicker and easier… if you didn’t want to stick around and hear me babble on and on or something.”

“Oh… But I like listening to you babble.” His frown turns into a duck face. “And besides, you made it super easy for me to absorb the material. I usually have a difficult time following the professor and taking notes at the same time—that’s why I always doodle in class to stay awake and focused, and I end up having to write my notes right after class from what I can remember.”

“Except for today,” you say, recalling the empty page with tiny sphinxes and slowly piecing together of complexities of Jung Hoseok.

“Right, I still have to write out my Egypt notes when I get home,” he gives you a thumbs-up as thanks for reminding him. “But I’ll worry about that later.”

You blink at him. All this time you thought he was some slacker who relied on others for their notes, but it turns out his intentions with you were the purest of pure. And he really likes you as a teacher, too, even though you’d given him a hard time about it. So maybe Hoseok isn’t so bad after all.

“Or… we could go over the Egypt stuff together after Mesopotamia, if you’d like?” You take a sip of your macchiato. There’s still plenty of caffeine left in your cup, so you might as well stay a little longer.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Hoseok’s bright smile nearly blinds you. He literally radiates the sun’s energy. “And maybe we can figure out what you wanted to know about the Sphinx of Giza that you couldn’t ask the professor earlier.”

And you do figure it out, together. Not only that, but you notice Hoseok picked up on certain lecture details that you must’ve missed. Together you fill in the blanks, together you learn something new, and together you stay at the coffee shop until closing.

Maybe your ancient history professor had a good point in keeping his class entirely offline and in-person. Because while it would’ve been more convenient to share a study guide online or take a pic of someone else’s notes, you no longer consider yourself an idiot for proposing the study date between you and Jung Hoseok.

[lastbluetardis]

Family of Six (5/14)

After James and Rose bring their newborn twins home, they work to find a balance between all four of their children, and each other. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU.

This chapter:Teen, 7500 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 33, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: (almost) 6, Twins: 3 weeks

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

Chapters will be posted every other week → next update: September 3rd. (Notice that the chapter count went up... there’s going to be twelve chapters and an epilogue.)

Note: This chapter has some slight warnings for allusions to child abuse, as well as implying an underage relationship (between a 17- and 18-year-old).

AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14

Robert walked into the house, immediately spotting the almost-birthday girl. 

“Happy Birthday, Sianin my darling,” he said, crouching down for a hug. She bolted into his open arms and he stood with her.

“It’s not actually my birthday yet, Grandad,” she said matter-of-factly.

“It’s not?” he asked, his jaw dropping.

Sianin giggled as she shook her head. “Nope! It’s not ‘til tomorrow.”

“Oh…” Robert glanced down at the small pile of packages in the bag he’d been carrying. “I guess I can’t give you your presents yet, then?”

“No, no,” Sianin said hastily, looking panicked. “The party’s my pretend birthday, so we’re still doing cake and presents and everything.”

Robert laughed and blew a raspberry into her neck, making her shriek and squirm in his arms. After giving her a final squeeze and a kiss, he set Sianin on her feet and turned to greet his other granddaughter. He couldn’t quite pick Ainsley up anymore, but he gave her a great big hug that lifted her off her toes for a few seconds.

“Mum’s in the kitchen,” she announced. “And Dad went out to get more ice cream.”

Robert stepped into the kitchen and saw Rose at the counter chopping vegetables.

“Hi Dad!” she said, grinning. “I’d give you a hug, but, well…” She brandished the knife in her hand.

“I’ll get one later,” he said. “Do you need some help?”

“Nah, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Lookie what Elena and Juliette drew me!”

Sianin skipped into the kitchen, waving her right arm. He saw a bunch of little doodles, including a birthday cake with six candles and three stick figures in pointy party hats. He remembered the days when James would proudly show him and Vera the drawings Rose had made for him, especially on holidays.

“That’s lovely,” Rose said.

“I wish they could come to my party,” Sianin sighed, tracing her fingertip over the ink on her arm.

“Soon, darling,” Robert soothed.

“Nuh uh! I have to wait ‘til I’m eighteen, but that’s ages away!” Sianin whined, slumping dramatically across the table.

“It’ll be here before you know it,” Rose said sympathetically. “And it’ll be well worth the wait.”

“Your first meeting with your soulmates is going to be utterly magical and spectacular,” Robert chimed in. “It’ll be one of the best days of your life, and you’ll look back and realize that the wait wasn’t as long as you’d thought.”

Sianin made a small noise of disbelief. “What was your first meeting like, Grandad?”

“It was… incredible,” he said softly, his chest aching with a combination of sorrow, longing, and joy as the memory conjured itself in his mind.

“I’m leaving as soon as I’m eighteen. I can’t stand to be in this house a moment longer,” he’d written onto his arms one night. His father had, once again, taken Robert’s entire paycheck from his job at the butcher’s for not only rent, but more liquor too.

“I’m so sorry about your dad,” Vera replied. And after a beat, she wrote, “Where would you go?”

“I don’t care. Anywhere. I’ll hide out in the shop after it closes. I’ll go to a group home. I’ll live in a goddamned park if I have to.”

“Don’t do that! It’s January for God’s sake! You’d freeze to death!”

“I can’t stay in this house anymore, Vee.”

She was quiet for a long time. Long enough that Robert brushed his teeth and crawled into bed for the night. He kept his bedside lamp on for a few minutes longer, hoping she hadn’t fallen asleep already.

Finally, she wrote back. “Well… if you want… my house has got plenty of spare rooms. My parents said they wouldn’t mind (that’s where I was just now).”

Her words came slowly, as though she was nervous to say them.

His heart lifted, but he tried to quash the hope.

“We can’t meet yet, darling,” he said, wishing so badly they could. “You know that.”

“I know. But…” There was a long pause. “What difference would ten months make? No one would report you or anything. And if they did, they’d have me to reckon with. Just think about it? Please?”

Robert told her that he would, even though a larger piece of him told him it was probably impossible.

As his eighteenth birthday grew nearer and nearer, Robert started to seriously consider Vera’s offer. A recent winter snowstorm made him rethink some of his previous ideas. However, she hadn’t brought it up again, which made him nervous that she regretted her invitation. 

Then one night his father gave him a split lip for not forking over the entirety of his latest paycheck. His father had hit him before, but mostly uncoordinated swats or a tightly-gripped arm. Never hard enough to draw blood or a bruise. Then again, Robert had never withheld money from his father before. Robert had begun working longer hours, squirreling away the extra money for when he could finally meet Vera. But his father had somehow found out and confronted him about it.

Robert had gone to bed without dinner and his money, near tears with anger, frustration, and helplessness.

“Hey, Vee?”

“Yeah, love?”

Her quick reply made his tears spill over. He wiped them away when they rolled into his raw lip.

“I was wondering…” He couldn’t bring himself to get the words out. He felt pathetic.

“Wondering?” she coaxed.

“What you said about your house having plenty of spare rooms. Is that… Could I…”

He started and crossed out several sentences before Vera said, “You are more than welcome to come stay with me and my mum and dad. More than welcome.” She underlined those words heavily. “You’re family. Have been for as long as we’ve been soulmated. My parents already consider you to be their son.”

His tears started up again in earnest, and all he managed to say was, “Thank you.”

Barely a week later, Robert found himself on the train headed to Scotland. He’d packed the barest of essentials: clothing, mostly, as well as a few books and all of the letters he and Vera had exchanged over the years. His entire life—the last eighteen years—fit in one medium-sized suitcase and a backpack. Looking at how little he had made Robert feel hollow inside.

The train ride took forever. He tried to distract himself with a book, but couldn’t silence his racing thoughts. His father had been furious when he realized his son was leaving. Robert had hoped to be out of the house before he had woken up. Alas, his father stumbled into the kitchen as Robert was writing a brief note telling him he was leaving and never returning.

His father had shouted at him and lunged for him, but was too hungover to properly do any damage. Robert grabbed his suitcase and used it to push his father to the side, then he left the house behind without ever looking back.

Robert knew his father’s fury wasn’t due to any emotional attachment; it was simply because a source of income was gone. Robert had learned ages ago not to expect an ounce of love or affection from his father. The only thing he did learn was what kind of father he himself wanted to be, if he and Vera were lucky enough to have children one day. He would be the sort of father his children could come to without hesitation, without fear, and know that they would be loved endlessly and eternally, no matter what.

Ignoring the lingering guilt of leaving his father behind, Robert had walked all the way to the train station. He’d bought a ticket with the small amount of money he’d managed to hide from his father. Finally free, Robert was now on his way to meet the woman he’d loved his whole life.

After the train ride, he hailed a taxi to Vera’s home. If his calculations were correct, the drive would use up the last of his money, leaving him penniless and homeless to meet his soulmate.

“A great start,” he scoffed to himself.

He gave the driver the address and slouched in the back seat as he was driven out of the city to a small neighboring town. Even then, they bypassed the town until they were in a wooded area. He grew nervous that maybe he’d gotten the address wrong. But he’d been sending letters to her for years, and she’d always gotten them.

The driver made an abrupt turn that had Robert clinging to the seat to keep from toppling. The car wound through trees on a narrow, bumpy road before turning onto a long dirt road. The dirt road was actually a driveway that opened up to a huge old manor house.

Robert’s eyes widened as he took in the beautiful home with the pristine white wrap-around porch and the wide expanse of grass around it. There was a tree line beyond the house, stretching out farther than Robert could see. His stomach lurched and his heart hammered. This was where Vera lived? It was like a castle.

Self-consciousness burned like acid in the back of his throat, and he was painfully aware of his tattered, ill-fitting clothes and unkempt hair and dusty shoes.

The taxi pulled to a stop. Robert fought against the impulse to tell the driver he’d gotten the wrong address and to take him back to the train station. But he couldn’t afford another taxi ride into the city. Or a new train ticket.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and Robert saw a girl with dark brown hair jump off the front porch, not bothering with the steps as she ran towards him. His stomach unknotted and he fumbled for the door handle.

“Robert! Robert!”

She had the most beautiful voice in the world. It made his knees tremble, and he was sure he was about to fall face-first into the frozen ground.

“Robert!” she shouted again. Her face was split into a wide grin. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“Vera,” he breathed. He forced his legs to stay steady as he took a few steps towards her. His stride grew longer and longer until he was running too.

She flung her arms wide and he followed suit half a second before their bodies slammed together. The breath left his lungs in a gasp, and he heard her make a similar noise. Then he was being held and squeezed by the person he loved most in the world.

“You’re here!” she cried.

She pulled back from their embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was an automatic response for him to lift his hands to cradle her cheeks, swiping at her tears with his thumbs. He didn’t realize he was crying too until she copied his movements.

“Hi!” she giggled, beaming at him.

“Hi,” he whispered, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. He caught a whiff of her shampoo. She smelled amazing.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she said, running her fingers through his hair, then down his cheek, before resting her palm against his chest. “You’re here. Oh! Happy Birthday!”

She lifted onto her toes and pecked a kiss to his cheek, then rocked back onto her heels, her cheeks pink.

“This is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” he told her honestly, his eyes flickering across her face, memorizing every detail. She was more lovely than his imagination had been able to conjure; he didn’t think he would ever grow tired of looking at her.

Robert was then aware that the taxi was pulling off down the driveway.

“My things,” he protested, turning, but he saw a middle-aged man and woman holding his suitcase and backpack. “I… I didn’t pay him.”

“We’ve got it,” Vera’s mother said gently, stepping up to him. “Our birthday gift to you.”

She set his backpack on the ground and opened her arms in an invitation for a hug, one that he stepped in to. He held himself somewhat stiffly for a second—wasn’t it awkward to hug a virtual stranger?—but the hug felt so nice that he couldn’t help but relax into it.

“We’re so happy to see you,” she whispered into his ear, then she kissed his cheek.

She released him, and he turned to Vera’s father. Despite his enormous size—he stood at least half a foot taller than Robert’s six feet—his face was kind and there were laugh lines around his mouth and eyes.

Robert stuck out his hand to shake his, but was instead pulled into another hug, to his surprise.

“Welcome,” Vera’s father said, giving him a firm squeeze. He pulled away and ruffled Robert’s hair.

His cheeks burned with an odd mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. 

Vera skipped up beside him and hugged his arm to her chest, then twined her fingers through his.

“Are you hungry?” Vera’s mother asked. “Nobody’s eaten lunch yet. Let’s go inside and out of this cold. C’mon my dears.”

Vera’s parents picked up his bags and began walking hand-in-hand towards the house. Before he could follow them, Vera gave his hand a squeeze and tugged at his arm. He looked down at her and couldn’t help but smile. He was finally with his soulmate. She returned the expression, then reached up and rested her palm on his cheek.

“I love you,” she said softly.

He thought his heart might collapse in on itself, and he was slightly mortified to feel tears welling in his throat. Swallowing them away, he covered her hand with his and turned his head to the side to press a long kiss to her palm. He took her hand off his face and brought her knuckles to his lips.

“I love you, too,” he murmured into her skin. “So very much.”

Her face was beautifully pink, and he couldn’t resist kissing her fingers again. He then tucked her small hand into his and followed the people that would become his new family into the house.

“Awww.” Sianin’s dreamy coo brought Robert out of his own head and back to the kitchen.

Of course, Robert had skimmed over the details of his father and had expanded upon the details of Vera, but he stayed as close to the truth as he could.

“That sounds lovely,” Rose breathed, misty-eyed. Robert realized with a start this was the first he’d told Rose about his first meeting with Vera.

“It was,” he said simply.

Robert stuck his hand into his pocket for his wallet. When he withdrew it, he opened it up and took a small faded photograph from within. The photo was of a lanky, messy-haired boy with his arm around a petite brown-haired girl. They were both beaming.

“Look at this,” Robert said, sliding the photo across the table so his granddaughter could see. “That’s the day we met.”

“Oh!” Rose clasped her hands to her chest and smiled down at the picture.

“You look like Daddy,” Sianin observed.

“No, your daddy looks like him,” Rose corrected. When Sianin frowned in confusion, she clarified, “A child looks like their parent, not the other way ‘round, since the parent made the child.”

Sianin ignored her mother and instead looked down at the photo again. “She’s very pretty. She looks like Ainsley.” Sianin then glanced sidelong at Rose. “Er… I mean, Ainsley looks like her.”

“She was the prettiest girl I’d ever met… apart from my beautiful little granddaughters.”

He lifted up Sianin’s party hat and ruffled his fingers through her hair. She squealed and ducked out of his touch, but he caught her around the waist and peppered kisses across her neck and cheeks just to hear her laugh again.

“I love you,” he whispered to her.

“Love you too, Grandad,” she said, breathless and beaming.

The front door then opened, and James called out, “I’m back! And some guests have arrived. Sian, your mate Emma is here.”

Sianin scurried out from Robert’s arms and darted to the front of the house. He watched her go with a fond smile.

He picked up the photograph of him and Vera and tucked it safely into his wallet behind James and Rose’s latest family Christmas photo. He made a mental note to ask Rose if she had any family photos that included the twins, and if he could get a copy.

“Meeting before she turned eighteen… how scandalous.” Rose stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she smirked at him.

Robert rolled his eyes. “You know how big the manor house is… I had my own bedroom, and she had hers.”

“And how long did it take before you started sharing?” Rose teased knowingly.

“Longer than it took you and James,” Robert replied sweetly, laughing at the deep blush staining her cheeks and neck. “You know, I never did thank you.”

Rose frowned. “For what?”

“Being there for James when he needed you the most. And me.”

“Dad…” Her voice was soft as she approached him. She rested her hands on his cheeks and said, “You will never need to thank me for that. For either of you. I love you and James so much. I didn’t hesitate. You both needed me, so I went.”

He smiled at her.

“I love you,” he said, taking her hands off his cheeks to kiss the backs of her knuckles.

“I love you, too.” After a beat, she said, “By the way, your dad was an absolute wanker and you deserved so much better.”

“Yeah, he was,” Robert agreed. He hadn’t spared his father a single thought over the last fifty years except the day he was notified his father had passed away. He didn’t bother going to the funeral, and Vera hadn’t pressed it. “But he doesn’t matter. He was my past. I found a new home, a new life, in Vera. Then also in James. And now with you and my granddaughters, too. My life is so full, and I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Not anything,” Rose mumbled, her eyes going sad.

A familiar ache wrapped itself around Robert’s heart.

“I still miss her,” Rose confessed.

“I do too, darling.” He took Rose into his arms and rocked her from side to side. “But I still wouldn’t change anything. Even if it meant having her back, I wouldn’t erase a second of the time I’ve had with you and my grandchildren.”

Rose squeezed him tightly, then let him go to return to the vegetable chopping.

The guests began arriving in a steady trickle, with James and Sianin greeting everyone while Rose finished up the work in the kitchen. When she was able to join the party, she saw everyone was split into groups. Sianin was playing on the floor with the five friends she’d been allowed to invite, while the adults—their family members, mostly—cooed at the two sleeping bundles in James and Jackie’s arms.

“Oh, Rose, they’re simply beautiful!”

“They’re adorable!”

“Wow, you’re looking amazing, Rose!”

Rose dutifully smiled and accepted everyone’s compliments, shooting James a wink whenever anyone congratulated her on their beautiful babies. It was a running joke between them that she got all of the praise for making their children, as though they’d magicked themselves into being rather than have any contribution from him.

Ainsley was the lone misfit of the party. She was too old to play with Sianin and her friends, but too young to be fully integrated in the adults’ conversations. As a result, she hopped between groups and often hovered by the twins, helping whoever happened to be holding them.

“No Sylvia today?”

Rose looked over at her husband’s voice, not realizing new guests had arrived.

Donna, Lee—who was holding little Joshua—and Wilf stepped into the foyer. Rose went over to greet them with a hug and kiss apiece, including a raspberry for Joshua.

“Mum was indisposed,” Donna said, giving Rose a meaningful look.

“Everyone’s in the living room,” Rose said. “The pizza should be here soon, but there are nibbles to pick at in the meantime. Drinks are in the kitchen; Donna, want to lend me a hand?”

Donna gladly followed Rose into the kitchen and away from prying ears.

“Indisposed, eh?” Rose asked when they were alone.

Donna went to a bottle of wine, pouring some into a paper cup.

“We sort of… had a falling out,” Donna admitted once she drained half the cup in one go. Rose stayed silent, letting Donna gather her thoughts and continue her story, if she wanted. “Lee and I decided we want another baby.”

“That’s exciting!”

“Thanks. Mum didn’t think so. Joshua’s a little bit… behind the other kids his age,” Donna admitted, her cheeks turning pink. “Developmentally. The doctors said it’s nothing to be too concerned about yet. But he’s nearly two and hasn’t started walking yet. And because he isn’t walking, we can’t even think about preparing to toilet train him.”

“He’ll get there,” Rose assured. “And toilet training is a long way off. He’s not even two yet.”

“That what I’ve been saying, but Mum thinks Lee and I are doing Joshua a disservice by trying to have another baby when we’re… what did she say?” Donna frowned and stared off into the distance while she tried to remember. “Oh! When we’re neglecting the child we already have.”

Rose gasped, a combination of sympathy and anger bubbling up within her. “Oh, Donna.”

“Yeah. So now of course I’m worrying that maybe Mum’s right, and that we should try to get Joshua the help he needs before our lives are thrown into chaos from a new baby.”

“But you said the doctors weren’t concerned, so what help does he need?” Rose asked, puzzled.

“Exactly! I dunno, Rose. This is all so hard. I’m terrified I’m not doing the right thing for my child. But what more can Lee or I do? We have him in nursery, so he gets socialized with other kids his age and is with professional childcare experts. And when we come home, it’s not like we ignore him or anything. We play with him, we read to him, we try and get him to want to walk, but he absolutely refuses. He screams his little head off and starts crying for us to pick him up. Or he just happily crawls everywhere.”

Donna sighed and scrubbed her fist into her forehead. Rose stepped up and wrapped Donna in a loose hug.

“I love Joshua so much,” Donna whispered. “God, I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But I just… want another baby before I get too old.”

Rose nodded, understanding all too well what the other woman was going through.

“Needless to say, Mum and I had it out.” Donna shook her head in dismay. “I told her if she wasn’t going to accept and support her grandson as he was, then she wasn’t going to have the privilege of seeing him at all. I’m not going to let her stand around and talk down about him where he can hear her. He might only be a little boy, but I’m sure he can understand more than we realize.”

“Good for you,” Rose murmured, rubbing a hand up and down Donna’s back. “I’m sorry about your mum though.”

“And I feel awful for putting Gramps in the middle of it. I feel like I’ve made him choose between his daughter and his granddaughter.”

Rose gave her a comforting squeeze, and once Donna had composed herself, they joined the party.

Their house was loud, hectic, and full of people—the twins handled it well though, considering this was their first time around so many other people. Rose and James ran themselves ragged, making sure that not only were their babies satisfied, but that all of their guests were attended to, especially Sianin and her friends. They appeared to be content to stay as a group and play together. 

The family all tripped over themselves to have a turn with the twins. Rose hadn’t needed to change a nappy or comfort a crying infant all afternoon. Her mother and James’s dad in particular seemed to self-appoint themselves as the babies’ caretakers, and were often disappearing into the nursery with one of the twins.

“Hey Dad? We’re doing the cake soon.” Rose leaned up against the door frame of the nursery and found her father-in-law sitting in the rocking chair, bottle-feeding one of the babies. Hannah, she thought, but she couldn’t quite see her daughter’s face well enough to distinguish.

“I hope you don’t mind?” he said sheepishly. “James gave me a bottle out of the fridge.”

“It’s fine,” Rose assured. Because she breastfed, it was rare for somebody other than her to feed the babies. She knew Robert enjoyed the task though.

The sight of her nursing daughter made her breasts become tender. She would have to sneak away and pump soon. “I was just saying, we were about ready to do the cake. Did you want us to wait for you?”

“Nah, it’s all right,” he said. “I’ll join you when she’s done.”

Rose nodded and moved back to the kitchen, where she found James sticking six candles into the chocolate cake before sampling a bit of the peanut butter icing.

“I’m sure it doesn’t taste that different from when you made it last night,” Rose drawled, smacking at his hand.

“Well, you never know,” he said innocently. “A good scientist always performs an experiment to test that his hypothesis is still valid.”

“Uh huh,” Rose said dubiously. “Last I checked, scientists weren’t supposed to go around licking the science.”

“Oh… well… ehm…” James floundered for a few moments before turning away from her for the matches. “Is Dad coming? I set him up with Hannah and a bottle a few minutes ago.”

“He said to go on without him,” Rose answered. “After this, I’m gonna need to go pump unless I want my tits to start leaking all over the place.”

“Just not on the cake,” James said, pulling it away from her.

She swatted him halfheartedly, then went into the living room to let everyone know the cake was coming out in a minute. When she returned to the kitchen, James was touching a lit match to the last candle. The flame had burnt close to his fingers, and he hissed as he quickly blew it out and dropped the smoking match into the sink.

“Ready?” she asked, grabbing her camera off the kitchen island.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said, picking up the pan.

Rose guided him out into the living room, flicking the lights off as she did so. Sianin looked up excitedly at her and James as they approached and began to sing. As they sang, Sianin looked around the room at her family and friends before she stared into the flickering candles on the cake that James set on the coffee table in front of her.

Rose loved getting this shot, when the candles reflected in her child’s eyes and cast shadows across her face. If it wasn’t such a hazard, she would love to have fire in all of the photoshoots she did.

She took as many photos as she could of Sianin’s face scrunching up as she thought of a wish, then of her cheeks puffing up as she blew out her candles. The room broke into applause as she extinguished them all in one breath.

Sianin carefully pulled the candles out of the cake and licked off the crumbs and icing clinging to the waxy surface.

“We’ll all get some cake and ice cream, then we’ll do presents,” Rose said, carrying the cake back into the kitchen.

“You can go pump, I’ve got this,” James said, making a shooing motion with his hands.

Rose skipped up to him and pecked a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

When she returned, her breasts feeling much more comfortable, Sianin ripped through the multitude of gifts everyone brought for her. As soon as all the gifts were opened, she and her friends took over half the toys out of the packaging and began playing with them.

Rose sat back on the couch with a piece of cake and her camera. She took shots of all of the family as everyone began to wind down from the excitement of the party. The parents of Sianin’s friends would be arriving soon to pick up their kids, and hopefully that would entice the rest of the family to leave too. Being a party host was utterly exhausting and Rose was ready to have her house to herself again.

“Rose! Rose, come look! Quick!”

Rose lowered the camera from where she was about to catch a photo of Sianin and Ainsley. She turned towards her husband. He was sitting on the sofa with Maddie lying in the cradle of his thighs.

“She smiled at me,” he said. “I swear it. She actually, properly smiled at me!”

“Oh, don’t be stupid,” Jackie scoffed, even as she walked towards him. “She’s too little to smile.”

Rose rolled her eyes at her mother and had to bite her tongue to keep from reprimanding her in front of the other guests. She instead snapped a quick photo of James holding Maddie before she went to stand behind him. She draped her arms around his shoulders and looked down at their three-week-old baby who, as much as she didn’t want to admit her mother was right, probably hadn’t actually smiled at James.

“Do you want to smile for Mummy? Do you want to smile for Mummy? Or are you gonna be shy? No need to be shy, my darling, not with those beautiful big dimple-wimples and those lovely pink wittle gummy-wummies. Want to flash Daddy your gummy-wummies? Eh?”

Rose smiled fondly at her husband as he dissolved into his rarely-used baby babble. But then, as James started talking about her “big blue eyesie-wisies”, the baby’s lips quirked up and her eyes scrunched as she grinned.

“Oh!”

“Look at that beautiful wittle smile!” James crooned. “Maddie-Waddie has a beautiful wittle smile-wile, doesn’t she?”

Rose brought her camera up and, heedless of trying to get the perfect shot, began snapping photos at random, hoping that at least one would turn out well.

“Anybody would smile at your daddy’s silly voice,” Rose cooed. “Wouldn’t they? He sounds so funny, doesn’t he?”

“Yes he does,” James sang. “Yes he does!”

A crowd had formed a semi-circle around them, hoping to get a glimpse of Maddie’s first smiles. Everyone began making silly faces and speaking gibberish to try to be the next person to make a three-week-old baby miraculously smile; all they managed to do, however, was overstimulate her and send her into a whimpering fit.

oOoOo

Once all the partygoers had departed for the evening, the James and Rose collapsed in an exhausted heap on the couch. Everyone and everything was quiet. The twins had fallen asleep, and Sianin disappeared into her room with Ainsley to play with her new toys.

“We should clean up,” James mumbled, even as he rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

“Mhm,” Rose agreed, sitting in a similar position. “In a moment, though.”

“Maybe two moments,” James replied.

They each dozed for the next hour, and when they awoke, they were groggy but somewhat refreshed. They used their rejuvenated energy to clean up the worst of the mess from the party.

They weren’t particularly hungry when dinnertime rolled around, but knew they ought to eat something more substantial than the snacks and birthday cake they’d eaten that afternoon.

“Ainsley, Sianin, are you hungry?” James called out as he moved down the hall. “We’ve got some leftover pizza.”

He leaned against the door frame of Sianin’s room; his daughters were playing with the multi-tiered toy car ramp that Jackie had brought as a gift.

“Girls, are you hungry?”

“A little,” Ainsley said, looking up at him. Sianin continued playing with her toy.

“Well, food’s in the kitchen,” he said, thumbing behind him.

When he returned, Rose was sprinkling cheese on top of her salad as she nibbled on a slice of cold pizza. He scooped out his own salad and stole a bite of Rose’s pizza, earning him a smack on the shoulder.

A few minutes later, Ainsley skipped into the kitchen alone.

“Sianin not hungry?” Rose asked.

“She’s angry with you,” Ainsley said before putting a piece of pizza in the microwave.

James paused with his fork half way to his mouth; a bit of salad dressing dripped onto the table.

“What do you mean?” Rose asked.

“Sianin’s angry with you,” Ainsley repeated unhelpfully.

James looked over at Rose, who seemed just as puzzled as he was.

“Why is she angry?” Rose asked.

Ainsley shrugged. “Nobody paid attention to her at her party.”

“Sure they did,” James argued.

“Not according to her,” Ainsley replied, popping open the microwave door a second before it would have beeped.

James was utterly confused. Sianin looked like she’d had fun at her party; she played with her friends the entire afternoon.

He and Rose moved at the same time, setting down their forks and pushing away from the table to walk down the hall to Sianin’s bedroom. Their almost-six-year-old was sitting on the floor exactly how James had left her ten minutes ago.

The toy she was playing with had five car ramps that all circled around each other, and Sianin was using them to cause a massive pile-up in the center where all the ramps ended. James thought the various ramps were to race the cars against each other; leave it to his daughter to prefer making them all crash.

They knocked on her open bedroom door right as she made an explosion sound with her mouth.

Sianin looked up at them briefly, then returned her attention to her toy, resolutely ignoring them. For good measure, she even scooted further around, turning her back completely to them.

“What are you playing with, darling?” James asked softly.

“Cars,” she answered shortly.

“Looks like fun.”

“Yup.”

“Can Mummy and I join you?”

“No.”

James clenched his hands into fists, his nails biting into his palms. How had they not noticed before that Sianin was upset?

“Why not, love?” Rose asked, stepping into the room.

She crouched in front of Sianin while James sat on the bed behind his wife. Sianin shrugged.

“Are you angry with us?” James asked quietly.

Sianin shrugged again.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

Many long seconds passed before she grumbled, “I hate the babies. They’re stupid and take up all the attention. It was my birthday party but everyone only wanted to see them.”

James’s chest caved in on itself, snatching the air from his lungs. “This is the first anyone has seen the twins. It was exciting for them.”

Sianin continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “And when I blew out my candles, Grandad wasn’t even there. Then everyone went to go see Maddie smile. How is smiling that big a deal anyway? Everyone smiles.”

“That was her first smile, love.” Rose’s voice shook slightly. “There’s only one first smile.”

“What about a sixth birthday party?” Sianin shouted. “I only turn six once but no one cares ‘cos the babies are here instead!”

“That’s not true…”

“It is true. Everyone wanted to be with the babies instead of me.”

“We’re sorry, darling. Truly. But your sisters are very little and…”

“You’re making excuses!” she screamed, angry tears beginning to leak down her cheeks. She swiped at her face and said, “I don’t want you here. Leave me alone!”

James froze on the bed, not knowing what to do. He wanted to stay and comfort his child, but he was the reason his child needed comforting.

“Sianin, we’re so sorry…”

“Go away,” she wailed. “Go away!”

Rose stood up and tugged James to his feet. Together they exited Sianin’s bedroom, and after they made it a few steps down the hall, they heard her door slam shut, making them both flinch.

“Shit,” Rose whimpered, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Shit!”

“What a mess,” James agreed, rubbing his hand up and down Rose’s arm. “We’ll let her cool off, then talk to her again.”

When they walked back into the kitchen, Ainsley was just finishing up her pizza.

“Told you she was angry.”

“Yes, thank you Ainsley,” James snapped.

Ainsley held up her hands defensively, then pushed back from the table to put her plate in the full sink.

“Can you help me load the dishwasher?” James asked.

“Don’t you want to finish eating?” Ainsley asked.

“Not very hungry. I ate too much at the party,” he lied. In truth, his appetite had been obliterated upon seeing Sianin’s distress. He dumped his salad into the trash and together, he and Ainsley filled the dishwasher to capacity then hand-washed the rest.

The evening passed slowly, with Ainsley and Rose reading on the couch and James pretending to read while his brain whirred frantically to figure out how to fix things with Sianin. Sure, a lot of the family had spent time with the twins, but they’d also spent time with Sianin, hadn’t they? And besides, Sianin had been with her friends for most of the party.

Unless she’d been with her friends so much because everyone’s attention was elsewhere.

Bugger, he said to himself.

James got through nearly fifty pages of his book without absorbing a single word, but finally it was time to get the girls ready for bed. Sianin was still in her room but playing with a different toy when he went to summon her.

“Sianin, bath time.”

“No. I don’t want to,” she said.

“Well, you have to,” he countered. “Come on.”

“I’ll do it myself,” she said, grudgingly getting to her feet. “Without you.”

“You can’t be in the bathtub by yourself,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

Sianin huffed out an annoyed breath, pushed past him, and marched to the loo.

“I’m gonna do it!” she said when he turned on the water out of habit.

“Sorry,” he said, turning it off.

He gestured for her to go ahead and turn on the tap and adjust the temperature however she wanted it. It took her much, much longer than it would have taken him, and he cringed as she stuck her hand under the stream when she had the dial set all the way to hot.

She yelped and yanked her hand away, then turned the tap to make it cold.

In the end, the bathtub was filled with water that was only tepid at best, but Sianin didn’t say a word as she stripped and lowered herself into the tub.

It was one of the most torturous bath times James had ever been a part of. Sianin was utterly silent and efficient in her movements, and she snapped at him whenever he tried to assist her.

“I’m trying to help,” he said defensively, setting down the shampoo bottle he’d been trying to hand to her. “Don’t be angry with me for that.”

Finally, Sianin finished bathing herself and stood up out of the now-cold water and drained the tub. Goosebumps prickled across her skin and she began shivering lightly as she pulled a towel around her body. Rather than dry herself off, Sianin hugged her towel tighter, a frown etched into her face.

“A bit chilly?” he asked gently.

She didn’t say anything.

“Do you want a warm Daddy hug?” he asked, opening his arms.

Sianin sniffed. “I can do it myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said. “But there’s no harm in getting a bit of help, too. Daddy will always be here to help his little girl, no matter what.”

Sianin glowered at the floor for a long minute before she stepped into his open arms. Her body was damp, but he pulled her close anyway. As soon as she was ensconced in his embrace, a violent shudder rippled through her body.

“My bath was cold,” she muttered sadly.

“I know,” he said. “You’ll get better at figuring out the right temperature.”

He held her in his arms for a few minutes, trying to warm her up. When her shivering subsided, he let her step away to dry herself off then change into pajamas. After she brushed her teeth, he followed her to her bedroom and dried her hair, but when he grabbed a book off the shelf, Sianin shook her head.

“I don’t want a bedtime story tonight,” she said, tucking herself further into her blankets.

“No?” he asked, his heart falling.

“No.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “If you change your mind, or want to talk, Mummy and I are always here for you.” He set the books back and stepped up to her. He kissed her forehead and whispered, “I love you, Sianin.”

“G’night,” she said, and she turned away from him.

James exited the room, pulling the door shut behind him. With a heavy exhale, he walked to Ainsley’s ajar bedroom door, and saw her sitting up in bed, reading.

“Did Mum read aloud with you?” he asked wearily, digging his forefinger into his eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. “Only a couple pages though ‘cos Hannah started crying.”

James stepped into the room. “Let’s finish out the chapter, eh?”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to,” Ainsley said.

“I want to.” And he did. Bedtime stories were one of his favorite parts of the night, and it killed him that one of his children hadn’t wanted one that night.

Ainsley scooted to the far edge of her mattress, giving him plenty of space to sit beside her.

“Is Sianin okay?” Ainsley asked, feathering her fingers through the pages of the book.

“She will be. She’s just a little upset tonight,” he answered. “Can you do me a really big favor? If she comes to you and wants to talk, can you listen? Or if she wants to sleep with you, can you let her? Let me and Mum know if it becomes a problem, but at least for the next couple of nights?”

Ainsley nodded, and he flashed her a small smile. “Thank you. Now, what’s going on with Harry and his mates?”

He lounged with his eldest as she read about the trio’s adventures with the Polyjuice potion. When she finished, he tucked her in, kissed her forehead, then turned off the lights. He pulled her door shut behind him, then made his way back to the living room.

Rose was sitting with the twins on the couch.

“That was the worst bedtime in the history of bedtimes,” he announced dramatically as he plopped into the seat beside her.

Rose pursed her lips in sympathy. “Hopefully Sian’s in a better mood tomorrow.”

“Yeah. God, I’m knackered. The party was exhausting enough, now our kid hates us.”

“I don’t think she hates us, James,” Rose said. “She’s just… upset.”

He grunted in reply. “Have we done something wrong? Did we not prepare her enough for having baby siblings?”

“I don’t know,” Rose admitted. “Let’s try not to worry about it too much now. There’s nothing we can do. Tomorrow, we’ll talk to her and see how we can help her adjust better.”

“Yeah. I wish we could’ve ended the day on better terms. This was supposed to be her day, after all. It was supposed to be fun.”

Rose didn’t say anything. She instead rested her head on his shoulder.

James pressed a kiss to her hair and stroked his fingers absently up and down one of the twins’ backs.

“Want her?” Rose asked.

“Please.” He slipped his hands beneath his baby’s tiny body and took her into his arms.

While his heart still hurt for Sianin, holding another of his daughters helped soothe the ache. The feel of her warm, solid body released a cocktail of hormones that loosened his taut muscles and attenuated his anxiety.

He brushed his lips across the top of her head, inhaling her fresh baby scent as he did so.

“Love you loads, my darling girl,” he murmured, kissing her again. “Which one are you, eh? Daddy promises he’ll get better at determining it.”

“You’ve got Mads.”

“How do you do that so easily?” he huffed.

“Well, I was the one who changed them into new outfits, and I knew Maddie was in purple while Hannah was in black,” Rose teased, knocking her shoulder into his.

James stuck his tongue out at her, but pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I love you, Rose.”

“I love you, too. We’ll get through this, James. I promise. We’ll figure it out.”

He nuzzled his cheek into her hair, taking comfort from her presence as they both lapsed into silence.

If you’ve made it to the end, consider leaving a comment or reblogging? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

[live-love-laugh-lesbian]

Choose Me Again

(I posted this on ao3 like, a month ago or so, but not on here-)

Summary: Emile Picani is born without a soulmate mark, a "Spare". Thankfully he meets someone who doesn't care about the rules, and has enough overconfidence to pull off a fake soulmate mark for far too long. Emile can't help but fall in love with that sort of person. Maybe his brother was right, Deceit really is a bad influence.

Words: 5,643

Emile Picani was born without a soulmate, just a blank wrist.

His parents were a typical love story in their world. They met young, their names burning bright on their wrists, shock and awe and excitement as they realised they’d found their soulmate. They stayed together through high school, of course, and got married as soon as they finished university. His mother wore a pretty mermaid tail white dress, his father had gushed over how lucky he was to have such a beautiful soulmate, and two years later they’d had Emile’s older brother Logan, who was born with the name Roman Prince on his wrist in deep red. It sparkled in the sun, and Emile swore there were flecks of gold within it.

 But then Emile was born, pale blank wrists, a doctor reassuring his parents that many people don’t develop their marks until later. That he had one patient who got it at “the cut off mark”, and how lucky they were, how close they were to not having one!

 So his parents relaxed, assumed he’d develop one in due course.

 He was three when he first realised he was “different” than his family. Logan was only two years older than him, and really didn’t understand as much as he’d like to pretend.  So when Emile traced over the curves of the R and asked why he didn’t have a name, Logan had said they were still looking for someone good enough for him.

 Emile found it funny, had blushed, made some high pitched squawking noise, and continued playing. His parents overheard, and used it as the reason whenever the question came up. Anything to make their son feel normal.

 Emile went to playgroup, met a variety of children with a variety of names. Only a couple didn’t have theirs yet, but they were too young to really understand why it was such a big deal.  Em  ile met  Remy there,  a boy with pitch black letters scrawled over his wrist, deep and inky.

“October,” Emile reads proudly, “I don’t know anyone named after a month though...”

 R  emy shrugs,  picks up  a pen and starts doodling over a sheet of paper, as blank as Emile’s arms.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s a dumb name. Yours is cooler.”

 E  mile smiled, gap toothed and  rosy cheeked,  looking forwards to the day he met someone with his name on them.  He liked to imagine it as pink and bubbly,  maybe with a sparkle like his brothers.  He started looking at his wrist more often, imagining  the name that would appear.

 B  y the time the year ended and he had to start school with Remy, he was the only person he knew without a name. Just a blank wrist.

“It’s ok,” his mother reassures him, “my grandmother didn’t get hers until the cut off point. She was thirteen! A day later and she’d have been a Spare!”

 Spare.  Emile doesn’t understand the word as an insult, but Logan does, and he understands  that it’s bad the day Logan comes home complaining  a kid called Emile a Spare.

“Like a spare pencil?” Emile asks, almost hopefully, “you know, in case you need an extra one!”

 H  e was young, but old enough to recognise pity.  He sees it in how his mother smiles sadly, his brother runs a hand through his hair, and his father nods.

“Yes, Emile. Like...a spare pencil.”

 R  emy  works it out before him, of course, the two sat under a tree  reading  when Remy blurts out that  his mother thinks Emile’s a Spare.

“She says you’re not gonna get a mark,” he says, “but she’s wrong. You’re not a Spare, don’t worry.”

“What’s a Spare?” Emile asks, “people keep saying the word, but I don’t get it.”

“Just means someone without a name. They used to believe it was the universe making sure there were people left over in case of death or something,” Remy says it like he’s been told it a million times, “it’s sad. I’ve never met a Spare before though. Maybe they don’t exist.”

“Maybe,” Emile agrees, and closes the book he’s reading. He finds himself drifting to books and shows without romance in them. He knows he’s not a Spare, but it doesn’t hurt to take his mind off things.

 H  e likes cartoons, he discovers.  Where he can ignore romance, if there’s any,  and focus on the action, the characters.  He likes Steven Universe. He likes that even though  Sapphire and Ruby are in love, he doesn’t have to focus on it.  Besides, most cartoons didn’t have  soulmate marks.  Most of them.

“You’ve got time,” his mother reassures him when he mentions this, “and we can take you to see a doctor if you’re worried.”

 He doesn’t like that, the idea that he should see a doctor, that something is  wrong  with him.  He tells this to Logan,  who presses a kiss to his forehead and tells him  he’s perfect, that  nobody deserves their name on his wrist anyway.

“Soulmates are a ridiculous concept,” Logan tells him, emphasising the large words proudly, and Emile giggles because he’s seen Logan pondering dictionaries in his spare time.

 (  He giggles a little less when  Logan comes home  talking about the new kid at school, about how he’s called Roman Prince, about how Logan’s name  looks like a galaxy on his wrist and it’s beautiful.)

“Yeah, well, you’ve always got me,” Remy says with a grin, “romance sucks. You’re safe from hearing about it with me.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” Emile replies, but is grateful nonetheless.

 T  hey spend their days  complaining about their teacher,  doing homework in thick  coloured pen,  then  playing Crystal Gems  in the local park.  There’s no expectations, and  nobody looks too long at Emile’s blank wrist  for it to be a bother.

 H  e’s eight when he sees a Spare for the first time.  An elderly woman  with a  bright spotted  walking stick,  a pink shawl around her shoulders.  He stops to  fanboy over her  Pearl keyring,  talking about how much he loves that show, talking about cartoons and  fantasy novels.

“Such a bright boy,” she tells his parents, and he puffs his chest out proudly, “though he’s wrong, the best fusion is definitely Opal.”

 E  mile is so busy spluttering and  trying to argue that he almost misses the sight of her bare wrists,  no names written on  her dark wrinkled skin.

“Mummy, she was like me,” he says.

“Yes, you both liked your cartoons!”

“No, mummy, she had a blank wrist!”

 L  ogan tells him he shouldn’t have said it, that it was rude to point it out. His mother starts crying,  saying that  the woman was different,  that Emile wasn’t a   Spare  .  Later his father tells him to be careful with what he says,  even though Emile is confused.

“Why is being a Spare so bad?” he asks.

 (  He sees an announcement that a cartoon loving woman is dead three weeks later in the newspaper. A funeral is arranged by her estranged brother, but  when Emile goes past the funeral that day he notices the only people to turn up are the brother and his soulmate.)

 H  e hears more people say the word now he’s getting older. He’s half way to the “  cut off” point, and there are whispers. The other kids talk behind his back at school, and the whispers follow him home,  where he lies awake at night hearing  his parents sob about how they have a  Spare  as a son.

“Ignore them,” Logan tells him, “you’ll get there when you get there.”

He watches Logan laugh at Roman’s jokes, watches Roman listen to Logan’s music choices, the two watching musicals and sci-fi films on YouTube at every given chance. He’s happy for his brother, and agrees that his name looks like a galaxy against Roman’s wrist. Purple and black and blue, but shining brighter than any star he could name.

 E  mile dives further into cartoons and fantasy, away from  the love of his parents, his mother’s name s  carlet and  bold, his father’s  milky and  bright as the moon. Away from the love of his brother and Roman,  red and galaxy mixing beautifully when they link arms.  Away from the world of soulmates,  so he can pretend  he’s normal.

 R  emy is always there, always  arguing with people over whether Disney should s  top using soulmate marks  in their shows.  Does it matter who Moana  is  destined   to be with, after all?  But Emile doesn’t mind so much, content to watch fantasy people  have fantasy adventures, content to imagine that the concept of soulmate marks is just part of the fantasy.

 R  emy meets October in the summer before they start middle school.

 They’re playing on the swings, excited  to be moving up in the world.  And then a boy  with wild black curls comes up shyly, holding out his wrist,  where Remy’s name  is scrawled  in messy capital letters,  the colour of ground coffee beans.

“October?” Remy asks, and Emile knows he’s the second choice from then on out.

 T  o his credit, October   –  or Toby, as he likes to be called   –  is lovely.  He passes no judgements on Emile’s blank wrist,  never mentions the concept of  Spares  , and  turns out to be a Disney fan.  He fits into their group seamlessly,  as natural as the rise of the moon,  and Emile  knows Remy’s never been happier.

 M  iddle School is a nightmare. Emile quickly realises he’s the only one in the building with a blank wrist, and finds himself hiding it under cardigans and bracelets.  He pretends to be shy, changes topics from soulmates to  cartoons, and makes sure to clap and respond politely when people around him start meeting their soulmates.

“I get it, it’s a big deal for them,” he assures Logan, who looks so concerned these days, “if they’re as happy as you and Roman are then that’s all that matters!”

“I’m happy if you’re happy,” Logan tells him, and hugs him tightly.

 B  ut Emile’s thirteenth birthday approaches   quick,  and Emile’s parents are on edge, each day checking his wrist, sometimes subtly, sometimes just grabbing it outright.

“He’s a Spare,” he hears his father sob, “was it something we did, do you think? I read that too much sugar in infantry-”

“Maybe I ate too much fish whilst pregnant with him?” his mother suggests, “some people say-”

 T  hey don’t know Emile can hear them, and Emile feels bitter when they pretend to be happy the next day. He wants to call them out, but fears their reactions too much.  What if they’re angry with him? What if they decide it must be his fault?

 H  e’s crying a week before his thirteenth birthda  y  alone in the toilets at school.  He’s supposed to be  at  Band,   but instead he’s  wishing he had a name instead of just a blank wrist.

“What’s wrong?”

 He looks up at the voice,  vaguely recognising the kid looking at him.  They share a few classes, he’s pretty sure.  A boy with dark hair,  dark eyes   and vitiligo across his  dark  face.  If not for the flashes of yellow  in his clothes he could blend  in with the night better than Lapis Lazuli with the ocean.

“I’m a Spare,” he whispers, wiping his eyes, “I turn thirteen next week and I don’t have a name. My parents are going to be so disappointed.”

 T  he boy hums, and  Emile sees  the name  Virgil Knight   flash across his wrist,  patchy purple and swirly.

“Parents suck. Does it matter that much that you have a name?”

 Emi  le shrugs. “Logan says it doesn’t, but my parents  d  isagree.”

“Logan Picani, right?” the boy tilts his head, “he’s the kid dating Roman, the drama club guy?”

 E  mile nods. “My brother.  I’m Emile Picani.”

The kid hums, then grins, walking over and grabbing Emile’s arm before he can protest. Out comes a pen, and then Emile has Deceit Hart on his wrist.

“Well, Emile, looks like you have a name. And yes, that’s my real name. My mother was angry because dad cheated on her, and I got the lifelong reminder.”

 He says it dryly, but also tiredly, as if he’s had to  explain this a hundred times. And if he’s telling the truth, then  he probably has.

“Later, Emile.”

 H  e rushes home to show them his “soulmate mark”.  Logan looks suspicious, but plays along, whilst his parents gush, too happy and relieved to question why it looks a little more inky than the average mark.  Roman is there, and leans  over.  The drama club guy.

“Hey, Deceit. I know his brother!”

Remy insists that Deceit start joining them at lunch. After all, Toby did, so Emile’s soulmate should as well! And Emile is certain that Deceit is going to spill the beans, out Emile as a Spare, but instead he grins and accepts the invitation, fitting in with the group so casually that Emile is almost convinced he really is his soulmate.

Deceit goes over the lines every day, and his own sleeves get longer, covering the name Virgil Knight, so nobody can argue that the two are soulmates. Emile feels bad for Virgil, whoever he is. He tries bringing it up with Deceit, pointing out that he can’t lie to his future soulmate.

“Virgil can deal with it,” the boy says dryly, “you can’t be the soulmate of someone called Deceit and not expect a few lies, can you?”

Three months later his parents insist on meeting Deceit, wanting to know what their son’s soulmate is like. Roman talks about Deceit’s brother, a kid in his and Logan’s year called Patton, who Logan speaks fondly of as well.

“I admit, I didn’t know Deceit had you as his soulmate,” Roman says, “I would’ve thought I’d noticed!”

Emile tries to laugh, but the lie still tastes bad on his tongue.

It doesn’t stop him helping to cover up Deceit’s soulmate mark with make up, then going over the now-blank wrist with a pink sharpie, his own name now looping over someone’s wrist.

“Pretty,” Deceit comments.

“I guess.”

Emile introduces Deceit to his parents, and Deceit is perfect, on his best behaviour, smiling and cracking jokes and showing interest in everything his family says. Emile wishes Deceit really could be his soulmate, and wishes he could be sure that Deceit isn’t lying about, well, everything.

“See? Not so bad. And now your name is on someone!” Deceit grins afterwards, holding up his wrist, the pink still as bright as it was when Emile first applied it.

“I feel bad lying though,” Emile mutters, “and what are you going to do when you meet Virgil?”

“I’ll just discuss it with him. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Deceit says it confidently, and Emile thinks that’s his favourite part about Deceit. The confidence. Deceit never hesitates, never backs down, never hides how he feels. He’s chosen to represent their year group in a debate competition, along with Toby, and the two go to the finals against Logan and Patton.

(Brother versus brother!)

Logan reassures Emile that it’s ok if he wants to support his soulmate rather than his brother, and Emile can’t help but resent the statement.

But he supports Deceit regardless, because he’s convincing. He’s loud and convinced from the start that his side is right.

It’s a silly debate, really. The school have tried to keep it light, so two thirteen year olds are arguing that you should skip a wedding to go for an interview for your dream job, whilst two fifteen year olds argue that you should go to the wedding and support your friends.

“He believed in egoism – or, acting in your own self interest,” explains Deceit, smirking because he’s got everyone’s attention.

“But that’s wrong!” Patton protests, whilst Logan looks annoyed at having to reign in someone so emotional.

“No. You’re wrong.”

Emile’s heart flutters a little at how confidently Deceit can say such a bold statement – and to his own family member!

Deceit and Toby win, though really all Toby did was agree with what Deceit was saying. It was to be expected, in a way, because Deceit manages to get Mr Sanders, who is supposed to be the neutral judge, to agree with him.

“You’ve got a talent,” Logan says afterwards, whilst Patton hugs his brother tightly, “you should join the debate club. I’m happy to put in a recommendation for you to be Captain next year.”

“Nah, I’m not that fond of debating,” Deceit says, and they all know it’s a lie, because he accepts Logan’s recommendation, and the next year takes over the position.

“You’ll be in High School too soon,” Logan points out to Emile, “make sure you let them know Deceit’s your soulmate, that way you’ll be put into the same classes.”

(Emile shifts awkwardly, and Logan considers mentioning that he knows Emile isn’t Deceit’s soulmate. But he lets it go, because if his brother’s happy then that’s all that matters.)

Deceit and Emile keep up the lie throughout middle school, going on double dates with Remy and Toby in their final year, two pairs of fifteen year olds arguing over which Disney movie to watch at the cinema. Emile likes it, likes holding hands with Deceit, likes the kiss on the cheek he receives at the end.

“We’ll still be friends after you meet Virgil, right?” he asks timidly one night.

The four at at his house for a sleepover, Remy and Toby having fallen asleep during Lilo and Stitch two hours ago. The make up has smudged enough that the purple letters are just visible, and Emile’s heart aches at the idea of losing his wannabe-soulmate.

“Best friends,” Deceit promises, and kisses Emile’s forehead, “forever.”

It’s the summer before they start High School, Remy and Toby finally making themselves official, and celebrating with a week away at Toby’s grandparents’ house, a pretty cottage by the sea.

“Have fun!” Emile hugs Remy tightly, “I’m so jealous of you guys, find a pretty seashell for me, would you?”

Toby laughs as Remy returns the hug. “We can manage that,” he assures Emile, “text us if you reach your growth spurt whilst we’re gone, ok?”

“I hate you,” Emile snaps, but laughs nonetheless when his three friends crowd around him, knowing he’s easily two inches shorter than them all.

“Use protection,” Deceit teases Remy, nudging Toby in the ribs, “try wait until Wednesday.”

Emile smacks him lightly around the head, and Deceit laughs. Deceit had already turned sixteen, whilst Remy and Toby shared a birthday. Emile still had two months to go.

“Watch it, or I’ll keep you filled in,” Remy warns, but his eyes sparkle.

“Ooh, fill me, yes please-”

“Dee!”

And then for a week it’s just the fake soulmates, starting each day redoing each others’ names and planning what to do.

“I think I might dye my hair when my parents go for their anniversary this weekend,” Emile says, “what do you think?”

“What colour?”

“Pink.”

“You’ll look fantastic. I was thinking of keying our local politician’s car.”

“That’s illegal.”

“And?”

Roman walks in on them dying Emile’s hair, and calls to Logan, saying that Deceit’s clearly a bad influence on his little brother, smiling nonetheless.

“Oh yes, a terrible influence,” Deceit says dryly, running pink through the tips, “after we dye his hair pink we’re going to get our ears pierced and spray Trans Rights over our headteacher’s car.”

“That’s illegal,” Logan points out, and doesn’t understand why Emile and Deceit burst out laughing.

The pair do both things. They go to the local Claire’s to get piercings, knowing it’s not the best place but doing it anyway. The lady coos over their soulmate marks, talks sadly about how her niece is a Spare, and Deceit loudly proclaims that his brother is a Spare, and how rude it is when people use the word.

“It’s just a blank wrist,” he snaps, and pays half what he’s meant to, despite Emile trying to convince him.

“I didn’t know Patton was...”

“Oh, he’s not, I just didn’t want to out you.”

They go over to Deceit’s home to get spray paint, and Emile sees the faint chicken scratch on Patton’s wrist, decorated with drawn-on flowers. Patton sees him looking and hides his wrist.

“I think there’s more in my room,” he tells Deceit, who hurries off, then turns to Emile, “...I know you’re not my brother’s soulmate.”

Emile almost throws up, a deer caught in the headlights. How are you supposed to react when you’re called out on a three year long lie? “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t be, I’m sure it was Dee’s idea. But I hope you two know what you’re going to do when he meets Virgil.”

Virgil Knight became Emile’s nightmare. The idea of someone who would walk into his best friend’s life, reveal the lies, and walk away with everything Emile wanted.

He began to resent Virgil, tried to imagine him as someone particularly ugly, or stupid, or nasty, someone that Deceit wouldn’t want. He knows Deceit knows his thoughts, because when deep in his hatred of the mystery soulmate he finds Dee squeezing his hand gently, thumb tracing the fake soulmate mark.

Toby and Remy return from their trip with three sacks of shells, and lie them out on Remy’s bedroom floor for Deceit and Emile to enjoy.

“Take as many as you like,” Remy tells them, and Deceit picks up a translucent pink one, feeling the spiral and the perfectly smooth interior.

“Emile, this one’s almost as beautiful as you,” he says, and Emile flushes as he takes it.

(He puts it up on his bookshelf at home, and gently holds it to his chest every night before he sleeps.)

Deceit flirts a lot with him over the summer, and he knows it’s intentional, because Deceit grins at him every time, sly and mischievous.

“You can’t do that,” he protests one day towards the end, “what would Virgil think?”

“No idea, never met him,” Deceit replies breezily, “more importantly, what do you think?”

“Huh?”

“What do you think? Like...say I kissed you, what would you think?”

Emile goes red, changes the topic, and tries to ignore the way Deceit’s face falls for a fraction of a second.

They don’t bring it up again.

And then Virgil Knight makes his appearance two weeks into their High School life.

“Deceit?”

The four look up at a tall gangly emo kid, smudged mascara and almost entirely hidden underneath a band hoodie.

“Whatever it is, I probably did it, and definitely don’t regret it,” Deceit says instantly.

“No – I mean...you’re Deceit Hart, right?”

Deceit nods, taking a bite out of his sandwich, and Emile knows what’s about to happen before the words are out of the emo’s mouth.

“I’m Virgil Knight. I...I’m your soulmate.”

Emile’s life falls apart in slow motion.

First, Remy tells Virgil he’s wrong, because Emile is Deceit’s soulmate, and shows Virgil his wrist.

Then Remy sees the name is smudged, because for the first time in three years Emile’s fake soulmate mark has smudged, as if it knew what was about to happen.

Next, Virgil rounds on Deceit, demanding to know why his name is on someone else.

Toby is in shock, staring as the scene unfolds.

Remy is yelling, Virgil is crying, people are watching.

And Deceit is silent throughout, looking thoughtful, as if debating on what to say, as if anything could make this situation anything less than humiliating and painful.

“Nice to meet you Virgil,” he says finally, “this is Emile, he’s my best friend.”

Virgil explodes, and Emile later compares it to when Pearl gets popped and her clone goes nuts.

Virgil is screaming, grabbing Deceit’s wrist, seeing the make up cover up his name, demanding to know why Deceit doesn’t want his actual soulmate.

Emile, Deceit and Virgil are sent to the headteacher, who takes Virgil’s side, pointing out that lying about your soulmate is a crime in some countries. He asks Emile who his real soulmate is, and realises a moment later that Emile just has a blank wrist.

“It was my idea,” Deceit says quickly, seeing the tone of the headteacher change rapidly, “please don’t get mad at Emile, this whole thing is because of my actions.”

Emile is sent home nonetheless, and his parents alternate between being furious and being distraught. He can’t tell if they’re upset he lied to them, or if they’re upset because he’s a Spare.

“I can’t believe you’re blank,” his mother sobs, “you’re a – how could – my own son is a Spare!”

His father comforts his mother, and Emile quickly realises where the two stand. There’s anger inside him, boiling up, bitter and dark. It wasn’t fair that they were crying over his blank wrists, it wasn’t fair that everyone’s ideas of him changed when they found out he was a Spare.

“Everyone at school thinks it’s your fault,” Remy tells him down the phone, “...you could have told me you were lying, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” whispers Emile, “I didn’t think it’d get so...like this...”

“We’ve been friends forever, Em! You shouldn’t have hid this from me!”

“I’m sorry.”

He hates having to tell Logan, and cries as he does,

“I’m not angry at you,” Logan reassures him, “though it was a reckless decision to make. Is it really so bad to have blank wrists?”

“I don’t want to be a Spare,” Emile snaps, “you don’t know what it’s like, Lo, when everyone makes a thousand judgements at once because part of your skin is blank. It doesn’t feel good! I hate it! I hate everyone! I hate myself!”

(He cries late into the night.)

Remy and Toby approach him the next day at school, wrapping their arms around him gently.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“We’re not angry at you,” Toby says quickly, “or Dee, really. It was a dumb thing to do, but...yeah...”

“Just tell us next time,” Remy says gently, “it hurt, Em, no lie. But we still love you. Just...be honest with us in future.”

Emile is grateful for his friends, because Deceit has been removed from his classes, placed into ones with Virgil. He hears nothing from Deceit for three days straight, and he’s so convinced that Deceit has dropped him now he has Virgil.

Then Deceit breaks into his bedroom late at night, looking worse for wear, with dark circles under his eyes and a bruised cheek.

“Surprise!”

“Dee, breaking into places is illegal.”

“I know.”

Emile hugs him tightly, and cries softly when Deceit pulls him close, soft and firm and warm and perfect.

“Why didn’t you message me?”

“My brother took my phone,” mutters Deceit, sitting down and pulling Emile onto his lap, “says I need to learn to be responsible.”

“Your cheek-”

“Yeah, turns out my mum considers the whole lying about your soulmate thing to be a lot like cheating. Virgil agrees, so I’m kinda outnumbered. I, uh, don’t think Virgil expected her to react so badly though.”

Emile presses a gentle kiss to Dee’s bruise.

“What’s Virgil like?”

“Annoying. I mean, he’s cool and all, but being forced to spend all your time with an emo whose life revolves around My Chemical Romance is a pain. Plus he’s really angry with me, and we have nothing in common except for a love of Harry Potter. And he doesn’t even know what house he is!”

Emile laughs, because out of everything Deceit could be annoyed about, the Hogwarts House seems to have gotten him the most worked up.

“-And I said, maybe he was a Hufflepuff! But nope, he rejected that too!”

“Tell him he’s a Hufflepunk,” suggests Emile, “he might prefer that.”

Deceit pouts. “No way, there’s only one Hufflepunk in my life.” And he runs a hand through Emile’s pink hair, smiling softer than Emile’s ever seen.

“...I wish you really were my soulmate,” Emile confesses.

“I don’t,” mutters Deceit, “the whole thing is stupid, being made to be close to someone just because you have their name on you...”

“My name’s been on you for three years.”

“That’s different. You were a choice.”

Later, neither would be sure of who kissed who first, but Emile likes to think he made the first move, clumsy and awkward, lips meeting Deceit’s in a silent declaration of love.

“Then choose me again,” Emile whispers, pleads, and Deceit kisses him back.

To say Virgil dislikes this turn of events would be an understatement. Emile can’t blame him – to be told your whole life that you would meet a person who would love you forever, and then that person turns around and says no?

“I’d still like to be friends,” Deceit tells him quickly, “you seem great, and I’m happy to have met you, I just-”

“I can’t believe that between me and a Spare, you chose the Spare.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“I’m meant to be your only choice,” mutters Virgil, “not second to some...blank wristed nobody.”

Deceit rolls his eyes. “I can choose who I like. And I choose Emile, blank wrist and all.”

Virgil makes his dislike of Deceit and Emile obvious from then on, and does his best to avoid them, but destiny forces soulmates together one way or another, and within a year Virgil gives up on avoiding them, instead calling a truce of sorts.

Remy and Toby are silently thankful throughout that their own lives have a lot less drama in them.

Roman is happy for Deceit and Emile, simply stating that he finds the choice a lot more romantic than a typical soulmate meeting.

Patton comes around eventually, but it puts a rift between the brothers, and Virgil becomes closer to Patton pretty quickly.

“What university are you applying for?” Deceit asks Virgil when the time comes, “I want to make sure I’m applying elsewhere.”

“Fuck off,” snaps Virgil, “I’m not sharing anything with you.”

(So of course they end up applying to the same places, and Virgil goes to Patton in distress, complaining about how the universe hated him and that destiny was out to get him.)

“We’re just doomed to keep running into Virgil,” Deceit tells Emile, Remy and Toby, “I hate it.”

“Maybe you guys will be friends, eventually,” Toby suggests.

“Maybe.”

Emile’s parents never quite get over having a Spare for a child. They get Emile to specialists all over the country, as if that could do anything, until Logan puts his foot down, demanding they stop putting so much pressure on him to be “normal”.

Emile goes to the same university as Logan, eagerly telling his friends about his plans to study psychology there.

“I’m thinking of becoming a therapist,” he says, “I think I’d be good at it.”

“I think so too,” Remy says, smiling.

“You’re good at lots of things,” Deceit comments, and winks, “but does this mean I’ll be able to call you doctor and get you to-”

“Dee, if you end that how I think you’re going to end that, I’ll kill you,” Toby says seriously.

“Kinky,” Emile and Deceit say at the same time, and Toby gets up and leaves.

“That makes no sense!” they hear him yell, and Remy just shakes his head.

Deceit gets a snake tattooed around his wrist, covering up Virgil’s name. In response, Virgil gets a band of music notes over a galaxy sky, covering up Deceit’s.

“Want me to get your name tattooed?” Deceit asks Emile one day, the pair lazing about on a hot summer day.

“Not really. I’ve had enough of names,” Emile holds up his own blank wrists, “besides, then I’d get yours done, and I’ve come to like my blank wrists.”

“I like them too,” Deceit says, capturing them lightly and kissing Emile, “though they’d look even more pretty wrapped up in rope...”

Emile shakes his head, mutters that Deceit has no chill, and kisses him back. And if he deepens the kiss a little and mentions where Deceit might find some rope, then, well...that’s just a bonus.

There is no ending to their story, of course not.

Emile is a Spare, and every time someone sees his wrists they do a double take, look at him in sympathy, or offer him the number of a doctor that definitely knows how to “cure” that sort of thing. As if having no name was equal to an illness.

(Emile eventually starts explaining to these people that he is a doctor, and he knows better than to trust any that claim they can cure the lack of a soulmate mark.)

Deceit’s name is covered up, and someone will always whisper about it, expecting some sort of story behind it. And there is, yes, but Deceit has a dramatic flair and prefers to give over the top excuses every time.

(Eventually Emile convinces him to start writing his stories, and his books become world famous.)

Logan and Roman get married, a typical soulmate story, and Emile begs to be a bridesmaid.

Patton meets his soulmate, and Virgil ends up joining them in a polyamorous relationship of sorts. There’s never any real forgiveness between Virgil and Deceit, but the two can’t stop running into each other and eventually create their own terms of peace.

Remy and Toby don’t get married, but stay friends with the pair throughout their life, because as Deceit and Emile know, sometimes it’s the people you choose that you’re closest to.

“I’m glad I chose you,” Deceit tells Emile each morning, waking him up with kisses and a squeeze of the hand. Emile smiles every time, knowing exactly what he means.

“I love you too.”

[queenofcats17]

Three Old Men Hunt Ghosts

So, @aceofintuition posted some doodles of various AU’s they have involving their and @pipesflowforeverandever ‘s Joey’s. So I decided to write the Buzzfeed Unsolved one. 

The man colloquially known as ‘Snowy’ Drew did not believe in ghosts. Not in the slightest. He liked things he could touch, things he could see. He liked things that were tangible. Ghosts didn’t really fall into that category. Unfortunately for him, the man who had dubbed himself his ‘best friend’ very much believed in ghosts. And a lot of other things that Snowy didn’t really put any stock in. ‘Gingie’ Drew was almost the polar opposite of Snowy. He was fair skinned where Snowy was dark, short where Snowy was tall, whimsical and fanciful where Snowy was practical and rational. Technically speaking, they shouldn’t have been friends. And, at first, they hadn’t been. They’d met at an animation conference. Both of them were in the animation industry and had that in common at the very least, as well as the fact that they were both named Joey Drew. At first, their opposing personalities had caused them to hate each other. Until, that is, they’d discovered one other thing they had in common. Their love for their children. As soon as they both found out the other had a child and would do anything for them, their hatred toward each other cooled, and they’d quickly become quite close friends. 

But that was in the past. Now it was the middle of the night and Snowy was at the wheel of his car, Gingie in the passenger seat, headed to some random location that Gingie was convinced was haunted. In the backseat was Norman Polk, who was along to record the whole experience. See, Gingie had gotten the idea that it would be fun to start a web series. His daughter, adopted daughter really, liked watching videos on YouTube and had come across a web series where two men discussed supernatural occurrences and true crime. Gingie had thought this would be a marvelous idea. Snowy didn’t mind the idea. He found true crime to be rather interesting, and it was pretty entertaining to watch Gingie get excited about the supernatural. 

“You just enjoy all the compliments you get in the comments.” Ana had said. She wasn’t wrong. Snowy didn’t mind all the comments about his attractiveness, as well as the ones about how cute Joy was. She’d been on a few episodes, but only the ones where he thought the content was appropriate. Gingie had brought on his granddaughter, Linda, a few times as well. Again, only when the content was appropriate, because Marvin had given Gingie a thorough talking to about what exactly Linda would be exposed to. 

“Gingersnap, remind me why we have to do this in the middle of the night,” Snowy said as they drove down the dirt path to the cave. Because of course it was a cave. 

“Well, you wouldn’t expect a ghost to just appear in the middle of the day, would you?” Gingie replied. How on Earth did he have this much energy?! It was almost midnight and they’d both gotten up at 6 that morning!

“It’s a cave. It’s always dark in a cave. They can’t tell the difference.” 

“Well, yes...” Gingie hesitated a bit. “But the time is important. The supernatural is stronger during the witching hour.” Snowy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, sure, that checks out.” He muttered. 

A few minutes later they pulled up outside of the cave. They’d gotten permission to film in the cave, but there was still a guide from the park service waiting for them. The cave was, for the most part, undeveloped and thus rather dangerous. 

“Hello.” The park service employee waved wearily. They were a tired dark skinned 20-something dressed in a park uniform. Judging from the circles under their eyes, they were probably a pretty new hire. 

“Ah! You must be Ramirez!” Gingie scrambled out of the car, bounding up to shake the guide’s hand. They couldn’t help but smile a little at Gingie’s enthusiasm. 

“Um, yeah. That’s me.” They replied. “Are you guys the two Drew’s?” 

“Indeed we are!” Gingie grinned, shaking their hand excitedly. “I must say, it’s a pleasure to be here! Thank you so much for letting us film in the cavern!”

“Sorry we had to drag you out here so late,” Snowy said, walking up behind Gingie.

“It’s fine,” Ramirez assured him. “I’m used to being up this late anyway.”

“You in college?” Snowy asked as Gingie peered past their guide. 

“Yeah. I’m in my last year.” Ramirez nodded. “I’m working here part-time right now, but eventually I want this to be my permanent job.”

“That’s a rather noble ambition.” Gingie turned his attention back to Ramirez. “It’s very important to take care of the beauty that Mother Nature has given to us.”

“You really think so?” Ramirez smiled shyly. “My aunt told me it was stupid. But...my family doesn’t really talk to her anymore anyway.”

“Well, that was rude of her.” Gingie’s smile quickly turned to a frown. He soon launched into a motivational speech for the young park employee. Snowy went back to the car to check on Norman. The projectionist was unloading the camera and sound equipment from the trunk, doing quick tests to make sure everything was working the way it should. 

“Everything working?” Snowy asked, leaning down. 

“So far.” Norman nodded, picking up the main camera and hefting it onto his shoulder. 

“Thanks for sticking with us for this long,” Snowy said after a moment of silence. “We both really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” Norman replied. “If you both die horrific deaths, someone needs to record it.” 

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Snowy rolled his eyes. But Norman didn’t laugh. Snowy turned back to look at him. Norman just smiled at him. Snowy knew Norman was, in all likelihood, joking. But you could never quite tell with him.  

“Let’s, uh, let’s just go.” Snowy walked quickly towards the mouth of the cave. Norman hummed to himself, following. Gingie was still talking with Ramirez when Snowy and Norman got to them, both looking rather excited. 

“C’mon, Gingersnap.” Snowy grabbed Gingie by his collar. “Henry’ll have a heart attack if you suddenly adopt another kid.”

“I-I’m not trying to adopt them!” Gingie sputtered, his cheeks turning red. “We were simply talking!”

“Sure you were,” Snowy said. “That’s what you said with Francine too, and now you’re practically her dad.”

“You do have a tendency to adopt young people you like.” Norman agreed. 

“Not you too, Mr. Polk!” Gingie wailed. After a moment or two of bickering, they separated and got ready to do their intro. 

“Hello everyone!” Gingie waved at the camera. “This week, we’re investigating Echo Cave in our continuing quest to answer the question, are ghosts real? I must say, I’m rather excited!” 

“I’m just hoping I don’t get shit on by a bat.” Snowy shrugged. 

“In any case, let’s go!” Gingie beamed and started into the cave, followed by Snowy and Norman. Ramirez snorted a little as they followed the trio of men. They hadn’t been sure what to expect when their boss had told them they’d be escorting the hosts of a web series through the cave but it certainly hadn’t been this. Still, they were certainly interesting men.

As they got deeper, the light began to fade, prompting them to pull out their flashlights. Norman had a head mounted one, while the other three just had flashlights they were carrying. 

“So, what can you tell us about this place?” Snowy asked, looking back at them. Norman had begun recording by this point. 

“Well, it’s a naturally formed cave,” Ramirez said, shifting into tour guide mode. “For the most part, it’s just home to animals. Black bears, raccoons, squirrels. Things like that. Humans didn’t usually come here. But...” They paused for dramatic effect, shining their flashlight under their face. “There was one significant incident where humans visited this cave. It happened in the winter of 1856. Two men, explorers, were driven into this cave by a blizzard. They were ill prepared for the harsh conditions, and their supplies soon ran out.” Gingie was walking alongside them, watching with an eager look. Ramirez started to grin, but quickly cleared their throat and put on a serious expression. 

“They were in this cave for months, by themselves, trapped by the snow. Eventually, tensions began to rise. The two men began to turn on each other, convinced the other was out to get them. In the end, their hostilities boiled over, and they fought. Only one came out alive.” They lowered their voice. “And in the darkness of the cave, standing over the body of his friend, the victor’s hunger made itself known once more. It had been so long since he’d eaten. When other explorers found the cave, they found both men dead. The first from the fight, with great chunks of him ripped away. The second...from suicide. It appeared he was unable to cope with what he’d done. But no one was ever sure. They say his ghost haunts these caves, begging for forgiveness. Or maybe...Maybe he’s taken a liking to the taste of humans.” They leaned back, letting the words settle. 

“Oh, bravo!” Gingie tucked his flashlight under his arm so that he could applaud them. “That was wonderful!”

“You sure know how to tell a story, kid.” Snowy chuckled. 

“I didn’t go too far?” Ramirez smiled nervously. 

“No no! Not at all!” Gingie said. “It was very engaging!”

“Ghost stories aren’t really my thing, but you seemed like you were enjoying yourself, so I liked it.” Snowy agreed. Ramirez felt a bit of color rising to their cheeks at this praise.

“In all seriousness,” they cleared their throat. “Two explorers did get trapped in here by a blizzard, one killed the other, probably ate some of the other to survive, and then died. And people do say they see a man in 19th-century clothing wandering around here.”

“Which is why you wanted to come here.” Snowy looked pointedly at Gingie, who smiled sheepishly.

“I was hoping I could help but his soul to rest.” He admitted. “I brought supplies as well!” He began digging around in the bag he’d brought.

“We better not get possessed,” Snowy muttered. “Ana would kill me if I let myself be possessed.”

“My dear Snowy!” Gingie let out a horrified gasp. “I would never let something like that happen to you!”

“Do they get in situations where they might be possessed often?” Ramirez whispered to Norman, who snorted quietly. 

“More than you’d think.”

It didn’t take long before they’d reached the furthest point they could safely go. Ramirez told them when that was, gently tugging them back. 

“Alright!” Gingie brightened. “Well, now that we’re here, would you mind terribly if I brought out the spirit box?”

“I hate the spirit box.” Snowy wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“I know you do.” Gingie smiled apologetically as he pulled out the device. “So I won’t run it for too long.” Ramirez was about to ask why Snowy hated the spirit box. Then Gingie turned it on. And after a moment or two, they understood. The spirit box was loud and the constant switching of channels produced an irritating static. 

“Is there anyone here with us?” Gingie asked, his expression suddenly becoming serious. They all sat there in silence as the box kept switching channels. 

“If there is anyone here with us, could you tell me your name?”

Still nothing, but Ramirez could have sworn the air around them had gotten colder. They could see their breath in front of their face.

“Our guide has informed us that you were trapped here with your friend.” Gingie continued, his gaze firmly on the spirit box. “And that you killed your friend. Do you have anything to say about that?”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a voice came out of the spirit box. 

“...erved it...”

“Could you repeat that?” Gingie said calmly. 

“He...deserved it...” A chill ran down Ramirez’s spine at the voice coming from the box. It was low, raspy, and full of rage. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be!

“That’s hardly a fair thing to say.” Gingie shook his head, a disappointed look on his face. 

"Pretty sure his only mistake was getting stuck here with you,” Snowy said with a snide smile. The air around them was only growing colder. Ramirez was beginning to shiver now, rubbing their hands on their arms. 

“You know...nothing...” The voice from the box growled. Ramirez could almost make out the figure of a man over the box. A haggard looking man dressed in 19-century clothing.

“Oh, I think I know quite a bit.” Gingie smiled sweetly. “Such as how to get rid of you.” The figure of the man solidified and went for Gingie’s throat. Ramirez shrieked and stumbled back, dropping their flashlight. All the lights in the cave went out, leaving Ramirez in darkness. They could hear the sounds of a struggle, as well as Snowy cursing. When the lights came back on, Norman was standing over them, holding out a hand to the park employee. 

“You alright?” He rumbled.

“I...There was a ghost.” They stammered as Norman pulled them to their feet. “There was a man! And he talked to Mr. Drew and- and-” 

“A ghost?” Gingie looked around wildly. “Where?” He was still in the same position he’d been before the lights had gone out. Snowy was in the same place as well, yawning and stretching. 

“I...I thought...” Ramirez stared at the space where they’d seen the ghost. They had seen a ghost, hadn’t they? It had to have been there. 

“You alright, kid?” Snowy asked. “You took a bit of a tumble there when the lights went out.” 

“I...I’m okay.” Ramirez nodded slowly. Maybe...Maybe they were just working too hard. 

Gingie and Snowy messed around in the cave for a little longer before they had all the footage they needed and Ramirez led them back out of the cavern. The men thanked them for their time and left in Snowy’s car. When the video eventually went up, Ramirez watched it and found no evidence of the ghost they thought they’d seen. Maybe they’d been imagining things. But something about Gingie’s smile as he and Snowy had left made them wonder. Oh well. They had other things to worry about. 

[tinypigeonlord]

Was reading about how American school systems are ridiculous and will expell you for the dumbest most unreasonable shit and that’s just how America is. But tbh it’s not just American schools which are like this? Throughout my time on a highschool in the Netherlands, I have experienced plenty of dumb shit and I have a mighty need to rant. SO! To name just a few examples:

• I once injured my right hand during school volleyball, which is my dominant hand. It was badly swollen, bruised and taped in, so I had to write with left. My handwriting was barely readable at the time, and soon enough I was approached by my teacher, who was pissed. He accused me of bullying and mocking him specifically, because he was a left-handed kid in school and had been forced to write with his right hand because at the time writing left handed was ‘wrong’, leading to a lot of bullying for him. I didn’t even know this, and had to show him my messed up hand to prevent getting expelled.

• I dealt with a lot of bullies in school, and teachers did jack shit to stop them because I had no evidence, and ‘if two people have issues, then both did something to cause it’. So basically I was accused of provoking the bullying somehow. To deal with the frustration, one day I made a crude doodle of a chimpanzee, drew an arrow to it and wrote the name of one of my bullies next to it. Said bully went through my bag at some point, stole my notebook from me and showed the teacher that doodle. I was forced to apologize to the bully and shake his hand, otherwise they had no choice but to expel me. The bully did not face any consequences for going through my belongings and stealing my stuff. Nor did he have to apologize for provoking me into drawing that doodle.

• One day my teacher caught me doodling something in a corner of my workbook while she was explaining things I already understood, and so she confiscated the workbook to make me listen. Next it was time to do homework assignments. I asked the teacher how I was supposed to do this, since she took my workbook. She kicked me out of the class for sassing her and I got detention.

• I was also kicked out of class once for being unable to find my books in time. This was at the beginning of a new year and I didn’t have a locker yet. We had 9 different subjects that day so my bag was filled to the brim with big books, and it took me a bit to find the correct book. The teacher assumed I had just forgotten the book and we have this rule here that if you forget your stuff, you get thrown out of the class. I did find the book and showed her that I had it, but by that time I was too late and had already ‘disrupted class’, which was another reason to kick me out and write me up for detention.

• One time when I was on my period, I asked to use the bathroom when class had only just started. The teacher told me to wait until class ended, and I really couldn’t wait that long, so in my frustration I said to him in a hushed voice: “Sir, I will paint this chair red with my blood if you don’t let me go...” I could go after that, but I was also told I shouldn’t come back in class and just stay out then. + Detention.

• This didn’t happen to me, but one of my teachers haaaaated one of my classmates because she argued against his opinions a lot. So he would kick her out of the class for the most unreasonable things. He caught her looking outside the window for a moment, for example, and told her that if she was not interested in his teachings she should just leave the room. When she told him he was being unreasonable and that she had been listening, he did kick her out. Another time, she opened her mouth to yawn, and the teacher immediately yelled at her to not fucking dare to argue against him again. She stood up for herself and said she only had to yawn, so he yelled at her for disrupting class.

This same teacher even kicked out our entire class once. We all got fed up with him shitting on this one classmate for BS reasons, so we opened our mouths against him as well. Everyone, even those who just glared at the teacher without saying anything, got thrown out of class and written up for detention.

• I had to write a formal apology to a teacher once. Basically, I had been sick for a while and forced to stay home, and immediately on the day I returned to school, I had to do a math test without having had the chance to prepare. I explained the situation to the teacher, who literally told me in my face: Tough luck, shouldn’t have skipped school, I’m not making exceptions for you. I replied: “we’re not done with this yet.” and he perceived it as a threat, and told the entire class what I had said to him, hoping that the class would chastise me for saying such a horrible thing. Instead the class clapped and cheered for me, and as a result I not only had to write that apology letter to him, but I also got thrown out of class for being a disruption.

This same teacher once gave me a 5.9 for a presentation. You have to realize our grades range from 1 to 10, with 6 being kinda like a C. It’s the minimum required for a passing grade. Meaning he JUST failed me. The class argued against his decision and asked him why he didn’t just give me a 6, since I didn’t really give a bad presentation, it was just a very simple/basic one. It had no real faults or wrong things in it. He said he gave me a 5.9 ‘just because he felt like it’.

• I almost got expelled once for presumably having gotten into a fight. Holy shit, Pigeon Lord getting into a fight??? Yeah no, the only fighting I did was with a skeeter. I am allergic to mosquito bites and my legs were completely covered in bruises from a particularly aggressive skeeter. My classmates had seen the bruises and reported me to our mentor. They wouldn’t believe such bruises came from a flippin insect and I needed my mom to confirm that yeah my body does NOT like mosquito saliva.

• I got in trouble for being too thin basically. People complained when I wore tight and form-fitted clothes because I looked anorexic and it made them uncomfortable. When I wore loose clothes, people complained that I looked sloppy and like a hobo and that I needed to look presentable in a school setting. I couldn’t win, and was told to not show up at school until I could dress properly.

• Same with my face. I had a teacher complain to me that I always looked tired and sick because of my dark circles and acne. ( I actually was tired and sick 90% of the time tbh) and that I needed to fix that because she hated the looks I gave her.

• Speaking of being sick! My mentor wanted to fail me for the year and make me redo it, because she thought I was fake. Like, she accused me of faking everything to gain sympathy and told me that if it was up to her, I wouldn’t pass the year, even though I scored passing grades for all my classes. She couldn’t get it done, but she made the rest of my classes she taught VERY miserable. :’D

• Meanwhile my sister was her mentor’s black sheep, and her mentor did fail my sis and made her redo the year. Not even because my sister was sick a lot, but because her mentor despised my sister’s ‘attitude’ towards her. She thankfully didn’t get away with it: my sister’s new mentor that next year overruled her old mentor along with her other teachers, and she passed after all, but not after a serious fight that lasted for 3 months.

• I in the meantime was locked out of my final exams. I had been sick during an oral test date, and the school had claimed that I didn’t call in sick for the day. Nor had I shown any initiative to apologize for not being there when I was expected. (I didn’t get a chance. The splitsecond I arrived at school after being sick, I was called into the office and yelled at with no chance to defend myself) Therefore I was not allowed a re-do, and therefore I couldn’t do my final exams, because I didn’t complete all my tests. This actually went against the law; the school can’t deny me a re-do based these things. Mom requested the data from our phone company regardless, and had evidence that I did make a phonecall to the school on the date I was sick and missed the test, and that whoever had taken the phonecalls that day was lying. But the school still would not accept it. We had to hire a lawyer who threatened to take them to court for lying because of a personal vendetta against me, not to mention disregarding the law, before they let me re-do the test and my exams.

• The school actually threatened to call the police on my sister. She presumably had written on social media that she wanted someone to burn the school down, and she’d be eternally grateful for that. The school claimed they had screenshotted the post and wanted my mom and sis to immediately make a formal apology to them. Now here’s the kicker: When my mom asked to see the screenshot, it wasn’t even a screenshot of the website. It looked like someone had literally just opened a Word document and typed my sister’s first name + that sentence of her requesting the school to be burnt down. The school then claimed that the teacher who had spotted her post had lost the screenshot, but they had no reason to not trust a teacher. Mom shut them down by telling them: “My daughter’s social media account is set to private and it’s only visible to peers in her friendlist. She doesn’t even use her real name on this website. Meaning that your teacher has either been pretending to be one of her peers to gain access to her account, or they faked this entire message. Either way, I myself will press charges if you don���t get off her case immediately.” The school then claimed that they didn’t mean to cause any misunderstandings, and they didnt mean to threaten my mom and sis, they weren’t actually gonna call the police. HAH.

There are MANY more things that happened, but these events stuck with me and I’m still bitter 7 years later. So yeah I felt the need to tell the interwebs I guess.