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cleanlenins · 3 years

Text

He Drives Me Crazy

AO3 FFN

Written for the Minibang

Artwork done by @tumbling-darkling

Mother's Day is today and Danny forgot to buy a present! How did this become Jazz's problem? Danny convinces Jazz to help him pick out a last minute Mother's day gift. He also somehow convinced her to teach him how to drive. Sibling hijinks ensue and Jazz is going to need some advil to get through all of her brother's terrible jokes.

The bird had been singing just outside her window for ten minutes now, but Jazz was well practiced in ignoring Mama Bird's pre-dawn routine. She snuggled further under the blankets, not quite waking as dawn began to break. The soft fingers of early morning light began to brush against her eyelids. She had found that arranging her bed in a way that allowed for natural daylight to wake her was beneficial for her mental health and refreshed her enough to face a new day with an upbeat attitude. Danny said it was proof that she was, in fact, a robot running on solar power. Honestly, he could laugh, but he would benefit from taking a little time to plot out his sleep cycle.

Something suddenly blocked the dawn light, casting a faint shadow that covered her face. She frowned, not quite waking, but some part of her brain was aware of the change.

"Jazz," a cold whisper tickled her ear. She furrowed her brow further, hiding her face from the suddenly cold air. She mumbled incomprehensible nonsense.

"Jazz, I need your help," the voice whispered again, this time breaking from desperation. A finger prodded her shoulder. Poke. Poke. Poke. "Jazz, it's an emergency ."

Jazz bolted upright, startling her little brother enough for him to fall on his butt with an oof . Jazz frantically scanned her brother, her hair a halo of ginger tangles framing her face.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt? Is someone attacking? Did Mom or Dad make something new and horrifying? Are you okay?" She nearly shouted. Her words ran together as she raced to get them out as quickly as possible. Danny flinched from the sudden tirade of information. Jazz searched her brother’s body for any obvious wounds, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. But no, he looked perfectly whole. He was still wearing his pajamas.

“Not that kind of emergency,” Danny said with a pitiful pleading look. “I forgot to get Mom a present!”

It took Jazz a second before she could comprehend Danny’s words. She responded by mercilessly hitting him with her pillow.

“You wake me up for a supposed emergency , and that emergency is you didn’t buy Mom a Mother’s Day present? I don't think you know what emergency means,” She said, not letting up on her pillow assault. Danny tried to protect himself from the feathery flail.

“Jazz, please. This is an emergency! Mother’s Day is today!” Danny pleaded. But Jazz did not let up.

“I know that Mother’s Day is today, you dork. I know how to read a calendar,” She huffed. Jazz dropped the pillow back in place on her bed, slightly out of breath. Danny peeked through his fingers to see if it was truly over. Jazz glared down at her little brother before wrapping herself back in her blanket. “Just fly out and buy her something. Stores will be open in an hour or so.”

“I don’t know what to get her,” Danny pouted. He stood and flopped on top of Jazz, who objected to the movement. “I don’t know what she would like. Jazz, you’ve gotta help me.”

“Why didn’t you do this before now?”

“I meant to do it last weekend, but then there was that weird Simon-Says ghost that made it so you could only do something if you said his name. And the weekend before that I had to study for that big test, remember? And the project Lancer had assigned. And then there was that whole thing with Johnny 13 that ended up with the Mall closing early, so unless I broke in I couldn’t have bought a present anyways.. And then the weekend before that-”

“Okay, okay. I get it. You’ve had a lot on your plate,” Jazz said. She shoved her brother into the floor and unwound herself from the blankets. Danny didn’t bother to move from the contorted position he fell in, but just continued to look up at Jazz with his puppy dog eyes. She sighed. How could she not give in when he looked at her like that? “Did you have any ideas about what you wanted to get her?”

“Well, I had thought I could bake something for her? I also thought to go by that weird academic place and see if they had something she would like,” Danny mused.

“It's just a bookstore, Danny.”

“Weird Academic Place.”

“Whatever. Fine. Call it whatever you want. It sounds like you have it planned out. So what do you need me for?” Jazz rubbed her eyes. Ugh, couldn’t he have waited five more minutes?

“You know her better than I do. You’re actually here most of the time. Not, you know, avoiding...her.” Danny shifted guiltily. He murmured something unintelligible. Jazz ignored it. “I just want to make sure she likes it, you know?”

“I’m sure she will like whatever you pick out.”

“Yeah, but I want her to actually like it, not just ‘Mom-like’ it, you know? I want it to be something she will enjoy because she wants it, not because I gave it to her.”

Jazz sighed.

“Fine, just let me get dressed and then you can fly us over to the mall when it opens.”

Danny shifted on the floor, still looking up at Jazz with his puppy dog eyes. Honestly, those should be criminal.

“Do you think that, maybe, just this once, I can drive your car?” Danny said, increasing the puppy pressure.

“What? No! Why would you want to drive my car anyways? You can fly,” Jazz said. Was Danny’s lower lip trembling?

“I know. I just- I got my learner’s permit now! And I just really want to try. I promise I will be really careful. Just please please please PLEASE. Don’t make me learn using the GAV,” Danny begged. “Do you want Dad teaching me to drive?”

Jazz shuddered at the thought. Imagining a teenage Danny driving like Jack Fenton. Except with no fear of death.

“Well…”

~~~

Jazz was trying very hard to not laugh as Danny was practically bouncing in his seat. The driver’s seat. Of her car. That was a sobering thought. She couldn’t believe that she was actually going to do this. Danny grinned as he fiddled with the seat settings, the seat jittering back and forth with an electric hum.

“Will you quit that?” Jazz snapped.

“What, I need to make sure my toesies reach, don’t I?” Danny grinned, stretching his legs comically.

“So why the heck is the seat all the way back?”

“Well, maybe my toesies need some toe room,” Danny argued, adjusting the seat's backrest all the way forward so his face almost touched his own lap.

“I’m regretting this already,” Jazz muttered, still gripping the keys.

“What? No, wait! I can behave,” Danny said, rushing to return the seat settings back to a normal setup. Not that there was any way to rush the old mechanical chair. The seat slowly moved back, the squeaking of the leather seats the only sound as Danny stared at Jazz, who was really starting to regret this. Neither teen broke eye contact as the chair moved with agonizing slowness. When the seat was finally upright, he grinned at her. “See?”

“Congratulations, you're sitting in the car like a normal person,” Jazz deadpanned. She took a steadying breath. “Okay, so what is the first thing you do now that you’ve figured out how to get your butt in a chair?”

“Uh, plug in the key?”

“Plug in?”

“I don’t know the word! You stick the key in the hole and twist.”

“I thought you got your learner's permit?” Jazz said suspiciously.

“I did, but it's early and I don’t remember words this early. I stick the key in the hole- the ignition! And turn. Right?”

“Wrong,” Jazz said, looking pointedly at her little brother. “First thing: Put on your seatbelt.”

“Why? It’s not like I can die again,” Danny laughed.

“Do you want me to teach you to drive or not?” Jazz snapped.

“I do! I do. Fine, I’ll put on the seatbelt,” Danny pouted. He clicked it into place, then made grabby hands toward his sister. “Keys, please.”

“No, you still haven’t checked your mirrors,” Jazz said.

“They're still attached to the car, I would notice if they weren’t,” Danny furrowed his brow.

“Not if they are still attached, you dork. That you can see with them,” Jazz groaned. Danny blushed.

“Sorry, cars missing mirrors tends to be a more common problem for me,” He said. He sat up and looked at all the mirrors, not having to make very many adjustments. “I think that's good. Now can I please start the car.”

Jazz hesitated, before finally dropping the keys into Danny’s waiting hands. The raven-haired teen looked gleeful at the little clump of jangling metal. He instantly put the car key in the ignition, the engine humming to life.

“Okay, so now you are going to put your foot on the brake. That’s the one on your left. And then you are going to shift the gearshift-”

“PRNDL,” Danny said, already shifting into Reverse.

“You've never even watched that show, it's on the wrong network,” Jazz complained.

“Doesn’t matter. So, do I put on the gas-?”

“No,” Jazz tried not to shout. She took another deep breath. “No, just. Get a feel for how fast it goes before you hit the gas, okay? Cars will go a little bit even without having to press the gas.”

“Sounds like me in English class,” Danny smirked, easing off the brake. The car inched toward the road.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Jazz said. She turned backwards to double check that no one was coming down their street. It probably wasn’t necessary. Most people avoided the street that the crazy Fentons lived on. With her Dad's driving? That was probably a good idea. “You should be good. Just turn the wheel to straighten yourself into the lane.”

Danny nodded and did just that. He seemed relieved, as he switched the car into Drive.

“Okay, cool. So now I floor it, right?” Danny said.

“I can’t tell if you are serious or not, but if you want to continue driving my car you will do no such thing,” Jazz's voice wavered. She squeezed the door handle, starting to feel it slide with sweat. “Just gently tap it. Speed limit is 35, so don’t go over that.”

Danny did a...really good job. Jazz relaxed. His turns were a little hair-raising, but nowhere near Jack Fenton levels. And Jazz only had to ask him to slow down twice. He braked a little hard at the lights. It could be worse.

“You’re doing great, Danny,” Jazz said fondly. Danny’s face, which had slowly contorted into a stern look of concentration as he drove, brightened. He shot his sister a look before she gently slapped him on the shoulder. “Eyes on the road!”

“Am I wheely doing a good job?” Danny snickered, tapping his fingers against the wheel. They were approaching an intersection.

“No puns.”

“Even if I am being carful ?”

“Stop it.”

“But I have miles of them. Can’t stop me now that I am on a roll .”

“Stop.”

“You can’t be tired of them yet-”.

“No, STOP!” Jazz cried. Danny slammed on the brake just as the light turned red, sliding slightly further into the intersection. The squeal of the tires against the pavement attracted the attention of the few pedestrians. Luckily, there were no other cars at the traffic light. It was early Sunday morning. Jazz held her hand to her chest for a second before her head jerked to Danny.

“Danny, are you okay,” Jazz asked. Danny gave her a wry grin.

“Yeah, I’m fine. The seatbelt doesn’t hit near as hard as Skulker,” Danny massaged his collarbone. “Sorry.”

Jazz took a deep breath. Danny was avoiding her gaze, his cheeks flushed the same color as the traffic light. He gripped both hands on the steering wheel, elbows rigid.

“Danny, you're okay. It’s fine. Everyone makes mistakes while learning,” Jazz said softly. Danny shook his head, still keeping his eyes forward. “You’re doing a really good job, I promise. Just don’t let yourself get distracted, okay?”

Danny still didn’t look at Jazz, but Jazz didn’t need eye contact to see where his mind was going. He was fast getting over his embarrassment, but it was turning into something she saw far too often on her little brother’s face.

“Danny, you have nothing to feel guilty about. I promise you are doing a good job. This is your first time driving a car, right?”

“Legally, yeah.”

“Legally-?” Jazz cut that thought short. “Nevermind. This is your first real lesson. You’re doing a good job. I promise. When this light turns green, just continue on a little more cautiously. And maybe don’t make anymore driving puns until you get a bit more comfortable. Or ever. That would certainly make me feel more comfortable.”

Danny’s lip twitched, but Jazz wasn’t satisfied.

“I want you to repeat after me,” Jazz said. Danny groaned. “Just do it. Stop complaining. Now, say ‘I am doing my best.’”

“I am doing my best,” Danny recited. The light turned green and Danny slowly pulled through the intersection.

“And my best is enough,” Jazz continued.

“And my best is enough,” Danny said unenthusiastically.

“Good, now say it all together,” Jazz said.

“Good, now say it all together,” Danny repeated.

“Danny, I’m serious,” Jazz admonished.

“And here I thought you were Jazz,” Danny quipped, his tone light. Jazz didn’t believe it. She knew when Danny was trying to pretend he was okay. She knew when he was trying to deflect. Jazz said nothing and continued to look at her little brother. Minutes passed in silence until they stopped at another intersection. Danny sighed deeply, weary.

“I’m doing my best and my best is enough,” Danny mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you,” Jazz said.

“I’m doing my best and my best is enough,” Danny said in a normal tone of voice.

“Yes, and I am very proud of you, little brother,” Jazz said fondly. “Really, I am. You do so much. And you work so hard. And you do so much good. I don’t know how I could be any prouder.”

“I thought we were talking about my driving? Why are you getting all mushy?” Danny complained half-heartedly, finally smiling. Genuinely smiling.

“Because I love you. Turn left at this next intersection. It’s faster,” Jazz directed. Danny grumbled something about sisters, but Jazz didn’t let it bother her.

It hadn’t taken long after she found out about Phantom for her to realize her brother always seemed beaten down. And not just literally. But while the scars from the ghost fights healed ridiculously quickly, the mental and emotional scars Danny had been accumulating since The Accident were just getting worse. The constant detentions from teachers who could never understand what he was going through. The bullies that tore at her little brother’s self-esteem. And then their parents. Jazz knew they meant well. She knew they scolded Danny because they thought it would help. She knew they grounded him because they were worried. But the constant negativity was not good for him. When was the last time they had said something positive to him? Something that didn’t bring up their bigotry against ghosts? Something that made him feel safe? Something that made him feel truly loved? No wonder he was stressed about Mom’s gift.

It didn’t help that it seemed like they were always complimenting her. Yes, she did work hard on all her tests. She worked hard for her grades. She had worked hard for her CATs. She had worked hard on her college entrance essays. And she liked the praise. But couldn’t her parents see the damage they were doing by constantly praising one child but not giving the other child the attention they needed? If only they could see all the good Danny did. Because Danny was an amazingly good person who-

“Jazz, this is your short cut. I don’t know where I’m going. So could you stop spacing and tell me when to turn,” Danny cut in, breaking Jazz out of her thoughts.

“Whoops, sorry,” She apologized, taking stock of where they were driving. A store caught her eye. “Oh, they finally opened that new ice cream shop!”

“Really?” Danny said. He glanced around nervously, not wanting to let his eye leave the road.

“Yeah, it opened a few days ago,” Jazz squinted to read the sign, a bright fluorescent green. She groaned.

“What?” Danny asked nervously.

“They called it ‘Scream’. That’s awful . I hate that,” Jazz lamented. And sure enough, as they drove by, the little ice cream shop was taking full advantage of Amity Park’s ghostly reputation. Cute cartoonish green ghosts decorated the windows. A few were curled up on top of ice cream cones, smiling out at the potential customers. Danny snickered.

“Well, I love that. We have to go!” Danny said.

“It’s too early for ice cream.”

“So we get it on the way home.”

“I thought you were going to bake something for Mom?”

“I mean, yeah. But that takes time. And it’s ice cream,” Danny said with longing. “I’m a itty bitty cold core ghosty. I crave the sugary icy treat. It's in my DNA.”

“Danny, you don’t need ice cream.”

“But I do . Ask Frostbite. Complete medical necessity. Don’t be ghostphobic, Jazz,” Danny complained as they passed by the shop. “I need it so bad I could scream .”

“Ugh, turn left for the mall” Jazz groaned, causing Danny to cackle in delight.

“That didn’t sound like a no,” Danny nearly sang.

“You’re paying. If I have to go into a store decorated with ghosts, you’re paying,” Jazz demanded.

“Deal!” Danny crowed in victory. Jazz rolled her eyes. She continued to give directions as Danny drove, interspersed with compliments and tips. By the time they arrived at the mall, Danny was back in high spirits. Was that a pun? Ugh, Danny’s sense of humor better not be rubbing off on her.

Jazz took back the keys when they got out of the car. Danny had turned on the puppy look again to try and keep them, but Jazz put her foot down. Jazz was far less likely to lose the keys than he was. He finally agreed as they headed toward the mall.

The siblings walked through the parking lot, with Danny trailing slightly behind Jazz. It hadn’t been open long, but there were already more people than Jazz had anticipated. Probably other last minute Mother’s Day shoppers. She smiled, knowing the probability that at least one of them was delayed because of ghost reasons as well. Just not her brother’s specific issue. She reached the door and opened it for her brother, turning to comment on that thought, when she paused.

Danny walked past her, not noticing her stalled comment. His eyes scanned the inside of the mall as he took on a tense defensive posture. The baby blue of his eyes didn’t match the sky, as Mom had always said. Not right now. They were cold and hard like ice. The calculated stare of a predator. Walking with purpose, he continued inward, not letting his guard down until some unspoken criteria was met. Jazz wasn’t sure what he saw that made him relax. What did he see that let him know that there was no immediate threat? And wasn’t that just awful that walking into the mall would make her baby brother feel threatened? Jazz watched the tension melt from her little brother’s shoulders as he turned backwards to grin at her. Jazz did her best to grin back at him.

Her brother rushed forward and grabbed Jazz by her wrist. Danny dragged Jazz through the store quickly, not noticing his sister’s lapse in concentration. He weaved in between the shoppers, apologizing quickly when he accidentally bumped into one of them. Jazz worried that he might dislocate her arm. But the pain of that possibility didn’t compare to the emotional roller coaster in her head. It wasn’t the first time she had thought about this. It was wrong. He was just barely fifteen! It shouldn’t be his responsibility. They were just kids. They should just be able to go to the mall and just be kids. Instead, Danny was always on edge. Always ready to throw himself in danger. And Jazz understood because she recognized the Mall as being statistically a likely place for ghost attacks.

Jazz almost tripped over Danny when he suddenly stopped outside the bookstore. He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the facade.

“Here we are! The Weird Academic Place. The WAP,” Danny said, a huge grin across his face. Jazz punched him.

“You are not going to call it that in public. Not if you want my help,” Jazz admonished.

“What do you mean?” Danny asked in feigned innocence. “What is so wrong with WAP?”

“Danny, you know exactly what is wrong with that acronym?” Jazz said.

“No, honest big sister. I am just your tiny baby brother. I don’t know what any word means. Tell me. Does it have a dirty meaning? Why would my perfect sister know something that has a dirty meaning?” Danny tried very hard not to laugh. To keep up the charade. Jazz felt her lip twitch before she couldn’t hold back the giggles any longer. Okay, maybe they still were able to be children. They weren’t actually completely deprived of it.

“Danny, you're ridiculous. Now, did you want to get a present or not?” Jazz asked. Danny winked.

“Yes, a Wonderfully Awesome Present,” Danny said.

“No,” Jazz said, marching forward into the store without him. She smiled when she heard his chuckling get closer, her baby brother following her in.

Looking around, Jazz could see why her brother might label this bookstore Weirdly Academic. Even ignoring his stupid joke. The bookstore was geared toward academic and science books. It was, honestly, a little pretentious. What was wrong with a little light fantasy reading? Nothing. Though, she grudgingly admitted that it was the best store to get peer-reviewed science journals in print.

“Okay, so what kind of book were you thinking?” Jazz asked. Danny shrugged.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think she would want an ectobiology book. I mean, Mom and Dad wrote the most accurate ones. But she is super into science and I am not sure which sciences would be relevant?” Danny frowned in thought.

“Well, why don’t we go look at the ectobiology section and see if anything stands out. Who knows? Maybe we can find something they haven’t read yet. After that, I know Mom was talking about looking into different ways of measuring and predicting atmospheric changes so they can finally go into the Ghost Zone safely. Like a barometer, but for ectoplasm. We might find something about that in the meteorology section. Or the general earth science section. Or possibly even engineering?”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go!” Danny said, rushing down an aisle. Jazz waited a few moments before Danny’s head popped back around the shelf. “I’m going the wrong way, aren’t I?”

“Why don’t I lead the way this time?” She said, grinning. She grabbed his hand and steered him in the right direction. He moaned about holding his sister’s hand in public, but both of them could tell his heart wasn’t in it. Just a little brother reflex.

It didn’t take long for her to find the section on meteorology. Granted, she wasn’t super well versed in any of the Earth Sciences. But she had picked up a book here after the Vortex incident. The section wasn’t large. A big portion of it was taken up by a life-sized portrait of Lance Thunder, the local “weatherman” as he used to be known. Now he mostly just got called out to Ghost Fights. He didn’t seem very happy about it.

Danny looked over the books briefly, picking up a very fancy book that seemed promising. It’s title did seem to insinuate that at least one of the articles had something to do with atmospheric changes. But…

“What is it?” Danny said, looking up at Jazz.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jazz replied, a little too quickly.

“You didn’t have to. You don’t think this is a good choice,” Danny sighed, putting the book back into place.

“Well, no. I guess not. I think it might be a bit too broad for what they are looking for. But then again, what they are looking for is very specific. Maybe we should look at the engineering section first. Mom and Dad usually make their own stuff. But maybe there is something in there similar to what they want and they can base their designs on that?” Jazz said hopefully. Danny slumped.

“Fine, lead the way,” Danny said, slightly disappointed. Jazz squeezed his shoulder in sympathy, before they walked over to the engineering section. They passed by the small kids section on the way there.

As with everything else in the store, the kid’s section was education oriented, with science being the predominant field. There weren’t any kids here, probably because of the time. Jazz paused as something caught her eye. There on a display was the book version of Bearburt, Bearburt Knows It All. Jazz looked at the book wistfully.

Back when she was a kid, she was enamoured with that book. She had seen it at the old bookstore when she was five or six years old. She had skimmed it with her tiny fingers, seeing how the book encouraged her to be smart and to study. And to never stop questioning. She read it three times just while they stood in the store. Jazz had begged her Mom to buy it at the time, but she hadn’t gotten it. Mom had been distracted and instead of buying her the book, she had thought Jazz had wanted the stuffed animal that went with it. And Jazz didn’t correct her. Her teachers at school said she wasn’t supposed to correct adults, even when she was right. And so she had taken Bearburt home.

And she loved Bearburt. He had always been there for her. Through the kids that teased her in elementary school. To the crippling self-doubt she hid in middle school. She had thought she had grown out of him when she hit high school, when everything seemed to be working out according to plan. Even though Bearburt had helped her out through all of those hard times, it was the book that had given her the courage to be herself, even when others didn’t approve. To finally speak up for herself when she saw something wrong. And maybe she got a lot of grief over the years for being a know-it-all, but she was happy with who she was.

“Um, Jazz? You okay? I’m supposed to be the space case, not you. Remember?” Danny asked, shaking her gently. Jazz blinked rapidly. “That’s like twice. I didn’t think waking you up early would turn you into a Zombie.”

“I’m not a Zombie. I’m fine. I just remembered something.”

Danny hummed in response, a single eyebrow raised.

“So, the engineering section. This way,” Jazz directed. Danny watched her closely a moment longer, before shrugging off the distraction.

The engineering section was much larger than the section geared towards earth science. Jazz couldn’t be sure, but she imagined it was probably because of the constant destruction in Amity Park. Interest in engineering would likely soar when people wanted to find a way to create city infrastructure that could withstand the force of a giant glowing dragon being suplexed into the road. Or at least that seemed logical.

“That’s a lot of books,” Danny eyed the aisle warily.

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed, scanning the titles. She gestured to one section. “I think those are mostly geared towards Architectural Engineering, so we don’t need to look through those.”

“That still leaves a lot to look through,” Danny sighed. “Oh well, better start.”

The siblings began grabbing books and looking through them. Most of them were collections of articles instead of just being books on one subject, so they couldn’t just read the dust jacket to get a sense of what was inside. Many of the concepts were foreign to Jazz, but she was able to parse out the jargon well enough to get a sense of what was not what they were looking for. The problem was that they didn’t know enough to say if any of the few options they considered would actually be helpful.

“ Status and characteristics of diagnostics on Korea Superconducting Tokamak Research seems like a good option. It details what would work and what wouldn’t work with their design, so that might be a good place for Mom and Dad to start,” Jazz mused, looking at the journal entry.

“Yeah, but wasn’t it published in like 1996. Isn’t that kind of old?” Danny asked.

“Yeah, it’s not ideal . But they mostly just need a starting place. You know that they don’t stick to a blueprint from start to finish very well.”

“But what about this one? Pressure and interaction measure of the gluon plasma came out in 2010, wouldn’t that be better?” Dany said.

“Do you know what gluon plasma is?” Jazz asked.

“No,” Danny admitted.

“Me either,” Jazz sighed. “Who knows if it is similar to ectoplasm or not.”

“Maybe I should just get both?” Danny ventured, before wincing at the price. “Or not.”

“Yeah, academic titles are pricey.” Jazz said apologetically. Danny just hummed in agreement.

“I think I will go with the first one. The one about Korea Superconducting. If it’s the wrong thing, I think she would still enjoy that one more? She said something about superconducting at some point, ” Danny sounded unsure. Jazz hugged her little brother.

“Why touchy?” Danny complained. Jazz just squeezed him tighter.

“Big sister,” Jazz explained.

“Ngh,” Danny wriggled out of her hands. “I'm going to go buy this. You can go look up a book on personal space.”

“Rude,” Jazz called after her brother as he sprinted off towards the checkout. Or she thinks that’s where he was heading. He was going the completely wrong direction. Jazz chuckled. The red-head then put back the small pile of books she and Danny had pulled out, before heading over toward the psychology section. Maybe she could find a book on personal space just to irritate Danny. Actually, that was a good idea. Read a chapter of it here or there out loud until Danny stopped pestering her. Turn his own joke against him.

She noticed the ectobiology section as she made her way through the store. The section was probably bigger in Amity than it was in any other city. Most of the covers sported a massive orange ‘F’ on the front. There was probably twenty years worth of research, countless hours spent by her parents locked in the basement. Researching and inventing and writing papers, day after day. Even now, it wasn’t uncommon for Jazz and Danny to not even see their parents for a few days, their schedules causing the family to be like ships in the night. She wondered if they would ever get tired of that. Did they miss Jazz and Danny? Because Jazz found herself more and more missing them.

Maybe she should pick up a new book on childhood development instead. She passed the ectobiology section and found her way into the psychology section. They had actually restocked since she was last here! She soon found herself lost in a psychology journal article about sibling rivalry and didn’t notice the minutes ticking away from her.

“There you are! Dang it, why is this WAP so complicated to navigate?” Danny said, startling Jazz out of her focus.

“How long is it going to take you to get bored with that joke?” Jazz said, slamming the book closed and replacing it on the shelf.

“Depends. I still say the 'Road Work Ahead' line every time I see one of those signs,” Danny shrugged. He was grinning, and he swung the plastic shopping bag around lazily.

“I know. And there is one on every block,” Jazz bemoaned. She grabbed her brother by the shoulders and marched him toward the exit. “Why do you think I gave you directions the way I did this morning? So much construction.”

“You were trying to deprive me of Road Work signs?” Danny gasped, trying to turn around to stare at his sister. She kept pushing and ignored the false hurt in his voice.

“I was trying to keep you from having to maneuver through a construction zone your first time driving,” Jazz retorted. She was lying, so sue her. He literally said it every. Single. Sign. There are twelve on 4th street alone. “Sometimes I think you let yourself get thrown onto the road just so they put up more of those signs.”

Danny went strangely quiet but Jazz had grown adept at reading the silence.

“You don’t try to destroy the road so they put up more of those signs, right?” Jazz asked.

“I mean, I didn’t before. But you have such good ideas, Jazz.”

“No. Uh-uh. If I get any indication that you are letting yourself get curb stomped for a meme , I will lock you in the thermos for a week and just suck ectodogs in there for you to eat. That has to be the stupidest form of self-harm I have ever heard of,” Jazz chided as she pushed Danny out of the Weird Aca- dang it. Now she was doing it. They now stood in the mall proper. It had grown much busier in the time they had been inside the store.

“Was there anything else you needed here?” Jazz asked, Danny shook his head. “Then let's drive over to the grocery store and you can find something to bake for Mom.”

Danny lit up and held out his hand. Jazz fixed him with a stare.

“I will only let you have the keys if you promise me you will not intentionally get yourself thrown into a road,” Jazz said.

“Jazz,” Danny whined. “Sometimes I have to get thrown into the road. It’s better than getting thrown into the nursing home or doggy daycare or something. Sometimes the road is the best option.”

“Okay,” Jazz said, noting to process that later. “No intentionally getting thrown into the road for a dumb joke.”

A passing couple gave her an odd look, which she ignored. Danny put his hand over his heart, left hand in the air.

“I, Daniel James Fenton, swear not to let myself be thrown into the road for a dumb joke,” Danny said seriously. “Now gimme.”

Jazz sighed, and gave her brother the jangling mass of metal. He tossed it up in the air and caught it once more, a smirk at his sister.

“But you said nothing about a great joke!” Danny smirked, before sprinting through the mall. Jazz took a second to react before she chased down her brother.

“Danny Fenton, get back here with my keys!” She yelled.

~~~

Danny Fenton did not, in fact, get back there with her keys. When she made it to her car, her brother was already inside on the driver’s side. He was buckled with both hands on the wheel and beamed at her when she came into sight. Jazz glared at him and his smile dimmed. She marched over to the passenger side and slammed the door as she got in.

“...You know I am not really going to throw myself into the road for a joke, right?” Danny asked hesitantly, sinking down into the seat. Jazz sighed.

“I hope so. But sometimes you say something as a joke and then you actually mean it. I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. The things you do...they are completely out of my depth, little brother. They don’t sell any books on how to handle this. I know what you do is important, but can you please try not to stress me out so much?” Jazz begged.

“Sorry. I guess I took the joke a little too far,” Danny said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I promise, Jazz. I’m not going to let myself get hurt for some dumb reason. Jokes aside, I really don’t want to find out if I can die all the way.”

Jazz leaned over to give her little brother an awkward hug. He leaned into her. The moment passed and Danny grinned at her like the chaos gremlin he was.

“So, grocery store?” Danny asked. Jazz just smiled and turned around to make sure he didn’t back into anyone. Her brother eased out of the parking space, the mall in the rearview mirror.

The grocery store wasn’t all that far away from the mall, so it was a pretty short drive. Honestly, Jazz had been considering just walking from the mall to the supermarket. But Danny seemed to be having so much fun driving that she didn’t bring it up. The closer they got to the store, Danny’s smile grew and grew. Jazz thought it was bordering on maniacal.

“What’s with that face?” Jazz asked, suspicious.

“What face?” Danny tried to straighten his grin into one of innocent confusion.

“You know what face. Why are you making that face?”

“I don’t know what you mean. This is just my face. My normal human face. No need to attack me about it,” Danny cackled.

“Okay, you’re making a pun. I hear that in your voice. But I have no clue what joke you are making,” Jazz said as she stared at her giggling brother.

“I’m just getting in the zone ,” Danny snarked. Jazz was about to grill him about his behavior when she saw it.

“Oh no, they didn’t,” She said, horror struck. Danny expertly parked the car so he didn’t crash from laughing.

“They did,” Danny gasped, tears dripping down his cheeks. His face was as bright as a tomato as he continued to laugh. Jazz gaped, torn between being insulted by the misuse of government resources and amused by the absurdity.

On the side of the road was a very new sign. And as Jazz looked around, she could see that they were scattered everywhere. How had she missed them? The sign was a bright yellow equilateral triangle with the vague silhouette of a blob ghost, eyes glaring menacingly. Underneath it said-

“Ghost Attack Zone? What?” Jazz was flabbergasted. Danny clutched his stomach.

“I know!” He choked out between giggles.

“What does that even mean? Ghosts attack everywhere!” Jazz threw her hands in the air while Danny just continued to laugh. Jazz tried to stay strong and be the serious one, as usual. But she couldn’t do it. She caved, snorting and laughing with Danny. The siblings leaned into each other and guffawed until their sides hurt. Whenever they tried to get ahold of themselves, they would make eye contact and suddenly they were both back to clutching their sides and gasping for breath.

“Oh Ancients, do you think you can use this against Walker?” Jazz mused when she was finally able to control her laughter. Danny looked awestruck and grinned.

“Sorry, Walker, this is not a Ghost Attack Zone. Attacking me is against the rules,” Danny mocked the absent ghost. “Oh, I have no clue if it will work but I am absolutely doing that. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”

“I think you can wait. We don’t need him showing up right now. It’s almost noon,” Jazz chided. Danny smiled.

“Would you say it’s High Noon?” Danny drawled.

“That meme is as dead as you,” Jazz rolled her eyes as Danny once more lost himself in a peel of laughter. “Can you please get a hold of yourself and drive to the store? The parking lot is right there!”

Danny held his breath, trying to contain the laughter as he drifted back onto the street. He pulled into the parking lot and began to look for a spot. Jazz pointed one out to him.

“There is one! It doesn’t have anyone next to it so it is a good place for you to practice.”

“I’m not parking there!”

“Why not?”

“The parking lot seagulls are there, minding their own birdy business. Are you trying to get me to commit birdy genocide?" Danny asked aghast.

“They will move when you get close to them.”

“But then they might not like me anymore and take their poop-fueled revenge. I don’t have the gull to make them my enemy. We’re birds of a feather !”

“How does that even remotely make sense?”

“I mean, they're white, they fly, and most of Amity Park thinks they’re a menace when they mostly just want to eat cheese fries,” Danny listed off, slowly passing the seagull mob. “Oh, and they are from the Ghost Zone.”

“What do you mean they’re from the Ghost Zone?” Jazz said, rubbing her temple.

“How do you think a bunch of seagulls end up in a city in the middle of Minnesota? Random transient portals,” Danny nodded sagely.

“Are you making that up?”

“You’ll never know.”

Jazz did not like not knowing things, but Danny was stubborn. Even though Jazz pestered Danny well after the car was parked, Danny refused to budge on elaborating. He just smiled mischievously. Jazz stewed, but it was fine. Danny may be afraid of bird-related vengeance, but she was an older sister. And she knew how to wait. And he should be more worried about Jazz related vengeance.

The siblings entered the store, Danny quickly grabbing a shopping cart. Jazz held onto his shoulder so he wouldn’t zoom off without her. Even so, she was having to speed walk to keep up with him.

“So, what are you planning to bake for Mom?” Jazz asked.

“Um, that’s a good question,” Danny slowed his pace. He looked at her with big pleading eyes. Jazz sighed.

“Well, I know she likes key lime pie but-”

“Great! Key lime pie, it is!” Danny said, successfully zooming away from his sister toward the produce aisle. Jazz wanted to scream, but she walked at a sensible speed after her little brother.

Jazz didn’t like key lime pie all that much. She had plenty of evidence as to why it was the inferior dessert in the Fenton Household. For one, it was green. Or, green-tinted at least. It made it very difficult to tell if it had been contaminated in the refrigerator by her parents' ectoplasm samples. It was made doubly hard by the citrus sour taste, something that limes and ectoplasm shared. Though limes didn’t usually have that battery-acid aftertaste as well. Not unless they had been left in the Fenton Fridge too long. On top of it, Jazz just didn’t like sour things. But if she were to honestly examine her distaste, she may dislike sour things because she had eaten so many ectoplasm contaminated meals.

Danny was still in the produce aisle. Jazz frowned as she watched him grab different fruits and stick them in the cart. He hadn’t even grabbed any of the limes yet. But he was going along, grabbing item after item at seemingly random.

“What are you doing?” She asked once she caught up to him. He looked at her seriously, before slowly reaching into the cart and solemnly handing her a bright red apple. Jazz just stared at it, before looking at her brother suspiciously. He was leaning over the cart.

“I just wanted to apple-ogize for driving you bananas today,” He pulled out the yellow fruit and put it on top of the apple in her hand. Jazz looked at the fruit expressionlessly. “ You kiwi-ckly agreed to go shopping with me, even though apricot to buy Mom’s gift. I cherry-sh our currant relationship, and think your grape for en-durian my jokes. And I will try to not take you for pomegranate again because we make a great pear. ”

As he spoke, he piled each named fruit into Jazz’s hands, who just stood there looking at the growing mass of food she held. When he had finished talking, she had a small fruity hill precariously balanced in her arms. She looked at her brother.

“Are you done?” She asked. He looked at her sheepishly, before sitting a single avocado on top of the pile.

“I couldn’t think of a pun for it in time,” Danny admitted. Jazz just stared at him. And took a deep, steadying breath.

“Why?” She asked. Danny shrugged.

“Fruit was there,” Danny said, as if it explained everything. Which it didn’t. But Jazz was going to at least pretend to be the bigger person.

“Please just put them back,” Jazz begged. Danny grinned as he pulled each fruit out of Jazz’s hand. “Where did you even find a durian?”

“Sam.”

“...were you just carrying that in your pocket?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jazz,” Danny scoffed. “It was in my backpack.”

“Right. And you are carrying a durian around with you because-?” Jazz prompted, handing over the last of the fruit to Danny.

“They are smelly,” He said, brows furrowed.

“Danny. Please. Explain it to me. Use your words,” Jazz begged.

“It makes it easier for Cujo to find me. Strong smell. And also he really likes playing fetch with them,” Danny shrugged. “Hey, can you go grab the stuff for a pie crust while I put all of this fruit back? We are in a hurry, you know.”

Jazz really wanted to explore how he had found out that the Ghost Puppy enjoyed durian, especially since she wasn’t sure if living dogs could even eat the fruit safely. Was he just chucking random fruit for the dog to chase? There was a story here. Not to mention it wasn't something usually found in the local stores but-

“What kind of pie crust?”

“Um, I guess a graham cracker crust? I don’t know how to make other kinds,” Danny said, still holding his fruit pile. “I think the graham crackers are in aisle eight.”

Jazz turned to walk away, keeping one eye on her brother and making sure he put the assorted fruit back in their place. He seemed to be doing just that, after sliding the durian back into his backpack. She walked past the baked goods. Danny was getting good at baking, somehow, but she would still prefer any of these store bought goods to key lime pie. She tried not to eye the cute little tiramisu that was placed right at the front, wrapped in a hard plastic box. She really liked the little cake, but never found the time to make it. Wait, she was getting distracted. Jazz blinked away the thought and walked briskly to aisle eight. Danny was right. This did have the graham crackers.

It took some time for Jazz to find Danny again. She had taken a detour to make sure he had actually put all of the fruit back in their correct place before catching up with him by the eggs.

"Don't we have eggs at home?" Jazz asked. Danny shrugged.

"I think so. But they have probably been in the fridge for a week so-"

"Ah. Yeah, better not chance it," Jazz nodded.

"Yeah. I guess I could still take a crack at it, though," Danny snickered.

"Oh my god, Danny-"

"You gotta learn to take a yolk , Jazz," Danny drawled out her name. "Don't be so hard-boiled ."

"I'm getting rid of you. I am going to Vlad's house and giving him your birth certificate," Jazz deadpanned. Danny gasped dramatically. "Danielle can just come and live with us. Upgrade."

"You wound me! Also, Ellie's puns are worse than mine, so not much of an upgrade there," Danny shrugged, grabbing a dozen eggs and putting them in the cart. "All that's left is the sweetened condensed milk. What even is sweetened condensed milk?"

"It's just milk that has been heated to remove some of the water from it, with sugar added," Jazz grabbed the cart from her brother and started pushing it toward the baking aisle. It forced Danny to walk at a normal pace. "You know you could have asked me to grab it while I was getting the graham crackers, right? They are in the same aisle."

"Of course I knew that," Danny said, his tone saying he very much did not know that. Jazz chose to drop it. They grabbed the can of sweetened condensed milk, Jazz physically holding her hand over Danny's mouth to prevent another infernal pun. Danny licked her hand, so she did the mature thing and rubbed his spit on his face. When an adult turned down the aisle, Jazz straightened up. She angled the cart toward the registers, but Danny stopped her.

"Let's do the self checkout," he complained, tugging on her arm. She shook him off.

"Do you see how many items we have in this cart? That would be so annoying! The cashier-run register is better."

"Noooo,"Danny whined. He leaned all of his weight on Jazz, causing her to stumble. "Self checkout, Jazz!"

"Seriously? You're going to knock me over," Jazz complained, trying to push her brother off of her.

"Sounds like a personal problem," Danny said, continuing to hang off of Jazz. Jazz was severely tempted to just let him fall on the floor, but that was probably not the correct response to have.

"If you want to do the self-checkout so badly, I am not going to help you. You can do it yourself," Jazz huffed

"Okay," Danny chirped, standing upright immediately. "Why don't you wait in the car while I check out?”

Jazz was going to argue against it, when inspiration struck. A little bit of pay back for her baby brother. She smiled sweetly at him and gave him a kiss on the head. He sputtered and gagged at the show of affection as she turned on heel to head for the car.

It didn’t take her long to set up her revenge. She had kept it on the backburner for a while, a small plan to be enacted when the time was right. Preparation was key. So she waited primly in the passenger seat of her car, giving occasional glances to the storefront. She saw her brother heading toward the car, half a dozen bags hanging from his arms (with one tiny one clutched in between his teeth). She unlocked the trunk as soon as he got close, letting him put the groceries in before slamming it shut with a thud. Danny slid into the driver’s side, grinning from ear to ear. Jazz did her best to hide her excitement as he buckled his seat belt.

“Why are you making that face?” He asked, suspicious.

“Face? What face?” She asked, knowing she was failing to hide her excitement.

“You are worse at keeping secrets than I am,” Danny said, staring at her.

“If you say so. But we need to get going if you are going to get ice-cream,” Jazz said, deflecting.

“Uh-huh,” Danny said, still suspicious. He shifted the car into reverse, and both he and Jazz turned to make sure he didn’t hit someone as he pulled out. He drove through the parking lot, slowing to wave at the flock of seagulls that were currently tearing apart a deli sandwich. He pulled up to the road, about to turn when Jazz made her move.

“Why don’t we listen to some relaxing music on our way,” She said, all too innocently. She turned the volume up, the unmistakable sound of flute and harp warbled through the speakers.

“No,” Danny cried, horrified. His mouth fell open as he stared at the car’s radio, not moving even though he was clear to drive.

“ Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling~ ” The car crooned. Danny groaned loudly, trying to drown out the lovely soprano voices of Celtic Women.

“Jazzy, please! Have mercy on your brother!” Danny begged.

“I have know idea what you mean, Baby Brother,” Jazz said, grinning. “You can turn, you know. There isn’t anyone coming.”

“Jazz!” He cried. “Please.”

“Come on, don’t get distracted. Just think of that frosty treat, cold core ghosty. Go on,” Jazz mocked. Danny fake sniffled as he pulled onto the road.

“Jazz, this is torture. I hate this song! You know I hate this song.”

“What? You hate this song? This is brand new information. I guess I was due to learn something new since you refused to tell me about the seagulls,” Jazz said. “Here, I’ll change it for you.”

Jazz pressed the button that would change the song. A soft organ played a delicate melody.

“ Oh Danny boy -” sang Johnny Cash.

“Jazz!” Danny yelled. “Jazz, why?”

“Oh dear, it seems like this entire CD is made of only covers of the world-renowned Irish hit Danny Boy . Who would make such a thing?” Jazz grinned as her brother expertly stopped at the redlight. “Great job, Danny. You’re doing great.”

“Please, just kill me Jazz. This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Danny said, reaching to turn the car radio off. Jazz slapped his hand out of the way.

“Both hands on the steering wheel, Mister,” She admonished.

“Jazz, I’m sorry! Yes, the seagulls came through a portal. But they are just birds. Please just stop this torment,” Danny yelled over Johnny Cash.

“So interesting, little brother. I am really glad you told me,” Jazz said. She clicked the radio. A fiddle introduced the Daniel O’Donnell version of the song. Danny made an inhuman noise of distress, causing goosebumps on Jazz’s arms.

Jazz directed him, sometimes yelling over the Irish tune to make herself heard. Danny moaned and groaned, throwing quite a tantrum over each iteration of the song as they faded into the next. His driving did not reflect his words, though. Jazz only had to correct him slightly, warning him that he was drifting into other lanes here and there. She considered asking him about the “not-legal driving” he had insinuated, as it really was impressive that this was his first time. Instead, Jazz sang along happily as her brother screeched his displeasure. Before they knew it, they were pulling into the ice cream shop. Danny was shrieking nonsense over the blaring music. A few people in the parking lot gave the car an odd look.

Jazz flicked the radio off, but Danny continued to scream until the car was completely parked. She scrunched her face as the blaring noise.

“You good?” She asked, as he stopped for breath. He gave one more inhuman shriek before ceasing. He intangibly reached into the cd player and pulled out the cd, cracking it in half.

“I am now,” He smiled. Jazz rolled her eyes, before opening the car door.

Scream had really pulled out all the stops for their ghostly ice cream theme. She had only caught a glimpse when they had driven by before. Little blob ghost silhouettes were pasted on all of the windows, statues of some of the more well known ghosts were positioned around the building. Fairy lights were strewn around the outside, each one fitted with a little green ghost bulb. The very front had an almost to scale statue of Phantom, though anyone who actually got close to Phantom could see little mistakes in the appearance. They couldn’t stand there examining every decoration, though. They had groceries in the car.

“They just can’t get my nose right,” Danny whispered, causing Jazz to giggle. Jazz opened the door for her brother and followed him in. The walls were papered with articles about the different ghost attacks as well as drawn art of the different ghosts. Streamers hung from the ceiling, wrapped around themselves in such extravagant swirls and twists that the ceiling was completely hidden in the green and purple paper. The ice cream was set up behind a counter, as any other ice cream shop would have it. But there were also shelves filled with different merchandise. T-shirts, cups, and hats with little ghosts. The logo for Scream clearly in view.

There was not a very long line, only about four people in front of the siblings. This gave them plenty of time to peruse the different flavors and options. It wasn’t a franchise, so they didn’t have as many options as a corporation like Baskin Robbins. Apparently, they even changed their flavors weekly. Jazz thought that was smart for the small time company. But she had to wonder how much money they blew on decorating the place.

Danny was cackling at the flavor names. Jazz just ignored them. More puns. Of course more puns. Did Danny give input for this place or was he just corrupting the entirety of Amity Park? It wouldn’t surprise her if puns became more popular because of a certain Ghost Hero’s penchant for using them in his witty banter. Witty in quotation marks.

“That will be $20.22. Will that be cash or card,” Jazz turned to where a worker was passing a cone to an elderly gentleman and what she assumed was his grandson. The older man whistled.

“That sure is pricey,” He said as he reached for his wallet.

“You get what you pay for. We only use the best ingredients,” The worker said unenthusiastically. The cashier waited for the elderly man to pull out his money, but the grandfather seemed distracted. He started telling the young whippersnapper about how things used to be and how far he could make a dollar go back during the depression. Jazz tuned it out as she continued to look at the options.

“Actually, Jazz. Maybe we shouldn’t do this today,” Jazz turned to Danny. He was looking away from her so she couldn’t read his expression. “This is probably going to take a while, and we do have groceries in the car.”

“It’s fine, Danny. There aren’t that many people waiting. We have time,” Jazz assured him.

“I mean, it is already getting late. And I still have to make that pie without Mom noticing. So maybe we should just leave,” Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

“We’re already here. I thought it was a medical necessity that you get some ice cream?” Jazz was confused. He had been so insistent.

“Yeah, but I think we should just go. We don’t want to be late,” Danny said, turning toward the door.

“Wait, Danny,” Jazz grabbed her brother’s arm. “We came all the way here. And I know you still want some ice cream so why-?”

“It’s nothing, Jazz. I just changed my mind,” Danny refused to make eye contact with her, but glanced over at the man still regaling the tired employee with the value of a dollar. Jazz followed his gaze, before it clicked. Danny was flushed with embarrassment, hand hovering over the pocket that held his wallet. A wallet she would guess was quite a bit lighter after buying gifts. One that was often empty because of ghost related costs.

“You know, I’m feeling really bad about subjecting you to all of those covers of Danny Boy . How about I pay for the ice cream this time instead?” Jazz said.

“Wait, you don’t have to do that,” Danny said, finally meeting her eyes.

“I don’t have to, but I am going to. It wasn’t very ethical of a future psychologist to subject my younger brother to musical torment. Even if it was my right as an older sister. Just don’t get it in my car. Besides, that Coffee Carnage ice cream actually sounds really delicious,” Jazz pulled Danny back over next to the display. Danny made another half-hearted attempt to leave but Jazz ignored him. “What are you going to get?”

“...I guess the Harshmallow Chocolate Chunk,” Danny sighed.

“Even you know that that pun is bad, right?” Jazz asked. Danny snorted.

“No such thing,” He chuckled. The line finally moved.

The siblings got their ice cream and Jazz grabbed so many napkins that the employees had to step in to limit her. The Fenton's walked out of the shop, eating their ice cream and heading for the car. Jazz decided to drive the remainder of the way home, and Danny did not object. It was a little difficult to eat ice cream and drive. And neither Jazz nor Danny felt comfortable with Danny attempting that on his first day. Jazz stuffed the napkins all around Danny to make sure that he didn’t drop the sticky chocolate marshmallow creation on her interior.

“Jazz, I’m fifteen not five. I’m not going to drop it in your car,” He rolled his eyes before fumbling his cone. He had to catch the scoop in his fingers as it threatened to tip off into his lap.

“Right, that makes me feel so much better,” Jazz said as she watched her brother lick his fingers clean. “If my car is chocolate-covered after this, you are going to wish that I still had that CD.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Danny saluted with his sticky hand. Jazz suppressed a groan and pulled out onto the road. She forgot to take an alternate route and soon Danny was pointing out every Road Work Ahead sign on the road. She felt the muscle in her eye twitching.

After threatening to shove her ice cream in Danny's face if he didn't stop, Danny focused on eating his treat. Jazz kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye. When Danny smirked like that, it usually didn't bode well. Even so, the younger sibling didn't pull anything even after Jazz parked in the Fenton driveway. Suspicious.

Unfortunately, Jazz didn't have time to grill her little brother on the mischief he was planning. As soon as the car was stopped, he shoved the final bit of his cone in his mouth (paper and all, ew Danny) had unbuckled and flung himself out of the car. Jazz watched as her brother scrambled to grab every bag at one time, nearly dropping most of them.

"You're going to drop the eggs," Jazz warned.

"No I'm not," Danny said.

He dropped the egg carton and they would have splattered on the ground if he had reacted even a moment slower. However, precariously balanced on his knee wasn't a super stable place to be. Jazz grabbed it from him, raising an eyebrow. He chuckled nervously, attempting to rub the back of his neck. But the plastic bag on his wrist slapped him in the face. Jazz bent over with laughter, which Danny joined.

Danny and Jazz walked into the house and straight to the kitchen. She started to put the eggs in the refrigerator, but thought better of it. Danny was going to use them soon anyway. She sat them on the counter and turned to the rest of the supplies. She reached out to unpack the groceries, when suddenly Danny was there blocking her way.

"I got this. You don't need to do that," Danny said quickly.

"I know I don't need to, but I want to. It's just a few things," Jazz said.

"Yeah, but you've already done so much! And I've taken up almost all of your Sunday. Didn't you have to do something for-um. You have a penpal, right? Or, er- the kid you tutor in English online. Weren’t you supposed to message them today?" Danny fidgeted. Jazz's eyes widened before she glanced at her watch.

"Oh, Ancients, you're right! I was supposed to message him twenty minutes ago!" Jazz said, she ran out of the kitchen. She called back "Let me know if you need any help!"

It turns out, her tutee was running late as well. So, no harm done. Jazz spent the next hour helping him, keeping a constant ear out for her little brother. Afterwards, she decided to get a little bit of her homework for next week done. She hoped Danny would come ask for help if he needed it. She hoped that he had learned that she was there for him. When she finally shut off her computer and walked down to check on Danny, he was placing the pie cautiously on the table. The whipped cream was a bit lopsided, but it looked cute.

"That looks nice, Danny," Jazz said. Danny beamed.

"Thanks. I had to cull some of the ectodogs in the fridge. They really wanted to take a bite out of me instead of the pie."

"Why don't I run upstairs and get my present? Then we can get Mom out of the lab to wish her a Happy Mothers day."

"Sounds good to me," Danny nodded. Jazz took a quick trip up to her room. She grabbed her perfectly wrapped gift and brought it downstairs. Danny had found a gift bag for the book, and it was sitting next to the pie. Jazz sat her gift next to the pie, as well. Before she could turn to the Lab, the door burst open and the heavily armed Fenton parents rushed out.

"Sorry, kids. You are going to have to find something for dinner tonight. We just got a call about a potentially haunted house over on Northshore. Don't wait up, okay?" Maddie Fenton said, rushing through the kitchen. Jack hot on her heels.

"Wait, but-"Jazz called after.

"No can do, Jazzy! A Fenton waits for nothing! Especially red lights," Jack Fenton called back. The front door slammed shut, and their parents were gone. Jazz just stood there, mouth ajar. Oh, Danny had worked so hard. And they were just going to leave? She turned to her little brother.

He was eating a slice of the key lime pie (how did he already slice it?). He seemed bored.

"Danny, I am so sorry-"

"Jazz, don't worry about it. We can give her our gifts later. It's not a big deal," Danny shrugged and took another bite of pie. "You want a piece?"

"Um, actually Danny, I don't really-"

"-like key lime pie? I know. I may be clueless, but I'm not blind," Danny grinned and pulled something from under the table. Jazz leaned forward to get a better look.

The little tiramisu she had seen at the store was sitting on a colorful platter. Jazz didn't know what to say.

"I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for letting me drag you all over Amity today. And teaching me how to drive. And for just always having my back, you know, in general," Danny rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as Jazz took the platter, still speechless. "You're a great big sister, and I love you. I guess. But if you tell anyone about this conversation, I will deny everything."

Jazz fingered the platter-no not a platter. The smooth surface was much too light. Gave too much under the weight of the tiny cake. She picked up the plastic box the cake was in and felt a wet prickle in her eye.

Bearburt Knows It All by C.L. Werk. Jazz gently sat the plastic box on the table and ran a finger over the shiny cover. She traced the letters slowly with her finger, just as she did the first time she read it. She looked up at Danny, who was fidgeting in his seat. He stuffed another bite of pie in his mouth. Jazz laughed wetly, and rushed around the table. She folded her brother into a tight hug, ignoring his protests.

“I love you too, Danny,” Jazz sobbed. Danny chuckled before hugging Jazz as well. Both relished the moment of peace their life so desperately needed.

Words are hard. It's hard to express only in words the love between two siblings. Because it wasn’t always tender. It wasn’t always kind. It was chaotic, and loud, and full of energy. Even with all the words Jazz knew, she knew that no word could ever explain the feeling in that moment. So she held her brother tight, and she would always hold him tight. Because he may drive her crazy, but she wouldn’t miss it for the world.

#Danny Phantom #invisobang 2021 #Danny Fenton #Jazz Fenton #Fluff #My Writing #Fanfiction #Comfort #Sibling Bonding

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hxt1b · 3 years

Text

As Long As I’m Here

Masterlist

Taeyong x Reader

Genre: Angst, CollegeAU (Hockey Player Taeyong)

Words: 5.7K

Warnings: Mature Themes (Mentions of Drunk Driving and Death. Sex.)

Accompanying Story: Isn’t It Lovely All Alone (Yuta)

A/N: I really hope you guys like this one. Please let me know what you think, it really means a lot to hear feedback from you guys. I also apologize about any grammatical errors, I did my best but some may have slipped through. Again, thank you for reading, I hope you guys like it. Ps. You guys don’t have to read the accompanying story to read this. This can be read as a stand alone!

“You were once told that guardian angels existed. You were sure yours brought you him.”

Smile, wave. Smile, head nod. Smile, say hi. They did it all, you were tired of it all. People would see you but no one wanted to get to know you. You were the silent girl in the corner of the class that no one gave a shit about. No one cared that one day you had the happiest life and the next it was crumbled at your feet. A dead limp hand crushing every sense of normalcy you had. Destroying any little hope you had in one wrong turn.

Scowling at the ground you kept your eyes away from those smiles, you made your way to your first class of the day. As each day passed by you began to regret this class more and more. She had been the one to pick it. Her obsession with him had been what had driven her to want to be in this class roping you along in the process.

“He’s bound to be in sports medicine.” She’d said to you in the summer while you had made your schedules. You’d just laughed at her, but you agreed. You always agreed.

Now she was gone, laying six feet under the ground in a cold grave and you were the one stuck in this class. Having to see their faces every day, they laughed and talked to each other loudly in class. You didn’t blame them, but you did.

The classroom was empty when you got to it. Which made sense you were early. You went to the back corner of the room and took your seat. As a fourth-year class, it was small only about a hundred kids in the class. Putting your bag down you pulled out your laptop getting ready for the class.

They came in laughing, they were always laughing, you leaned your head onto your hand and looked out the window keeping your gaze away from them. Slowly the classroom filled up and the professor entered last. You actually liked the prof she was younger than all the other profs you had, and she was easy to talk to, she understood the pressure university put on you and accounted for the fact that each kid had a lot more on their plate and suited her syllabus to that, too bad you just simply hated her class.

“I’ve graded your quizzes I will be handing them back at the end of today’s class. Speaking of which, today's class will be only half our regular time -” You tuned her out as she continued not caring to pay attention any longer. You watched the breeze outside the window as it made the trees dance, the green leaves giving way to the oranges and reds of autumn your mind drifting off to all the places you try to forget, to all the memories you won’t relive and all the memories you’ll never make.

“Okay, that’s it. Come up to my desk and grab your quiz from me as you go.” You slowly began to pack in no rush to be anywhere particular, your empty apartment was waiting for you nothing else anyway.

You rose from your seat swinging your bag on and making your way to the front of the classroom. The professor looked at you as you walked up to her and fished your quiz out from the pile handing it to you with a small smile of pity. You weren’t shocked when you turned the quiz around and looked at the thirty-four percent at the top of the sheet. Shrugging you turned away from her desk bumping straight into a hard shoulder. Somehow, he managed to knock your quiz out of your hand.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Taeyong said. You rolled your eyes and quickly bent to grab your quiz. You ignored him as you straightened up and pushed past him making sure you didn’t look at him. Taeyong. You hated that name so much; your feelings were beyond your grasp. They always tunnelled into a monumental force that you could never reign in.

Making your way out of the classroom you decided to go to the library instead of back to your apartment. You didn’t have any other class today but going back to the silence of your apartment seemed like torture you weren’t ready for.

The heat in the library never seemed to work, but you didn’t mind the cold helped to numb your brain while you read. You made your way to the corner of the library that was home to the books that weren’t about academics. Dumping your bag down in a corner on the floor you made your way through the shelves looking for something to read. Something to take your mind away from the bitter anger that you constantly stayed in. Finding the book you wanted, you head back to your spot and sank into the ground next to your bag and opened the book.

You heard them like usual before you saw them. Their loud whispers carrying through the air to you accompanied by their footfalls as they neared. You didn’t look up you didn’t need to, you knew they’d ignore you and you were fine with it. After a little bit, you couldn’t hear them anymore, getting sucked into your book you ignored the world around you, your mind falling into the faraway world of the book.

“Hey, can I sit here?” You were startled when the voice harshly pulled you out from your head and back to the real world. Lifting your head from your book you looked up. He was standing there with a soft smile on his face. His friends were gone.

Taeyong, Yuta, Johnny, they were always together, and you hated them all. You couldn’t help the words that fell out of your mouth.

“Did your friends ditch you or something? Go find them to sit with.” You quickly turned your head back to your book staring at the words on the page, but he didn’t move and you couldn’t read. The words morphed together on the page as the seconds ticked by before you looked back up at him. A slow laugh floated out his lips as you met his eyes.

“They did in fact leave me. They had a meeting for some class that they're in.” He was still smiling his smile more amused than before.

“You still can’t sit here.” You replied.

“Well,” He started and looked around, “I guess I’ll just sit over there then.”

He moved about five steps to your right and dumped his bag down taking a seat beside it and pulling out his laptop. You frowned in his direction glaring at him slightly before returning to your book trying your best to read and ignore the imposing boy near you.

You didn’t turn the page before he spoke again.

“Do you have a pen I could borrow?” You glared at him again before rolling your eyes and digging into your bag to grab an extra pen. You lightly threw it in his direction before going back to reading. Or at least trying to.

He cleared his throat again a couple of minutes later grabbing your attention, “Uh so do you have sticky notes?” You sighed deeply moving towards your backpack again to grab a pad of sticky notes and chucking it at him. The silence lasted about fifteen minutes before he spoke again.

“Do you -”

“No.”

The next morning you didn’t leave your apartment, you didn’t want to your brain was too weighed down to move out of your bed. You wasted away the morning falling in and out of sleep. At two pm your mom called, you sighed answering the phone. Her cheery tone coming in through the speaker asking you how your day was. You lied telling her about how you had a good day, making your tone much happier than you felt. You told her a false story about how great you did on your quiz for the sports medicine class and she cheered for you telling you to keep up the great work.

When she hung up you felt the tears prick at your eyes. Closing them as they stung you took large breaths to calm yourself down before forcing yourself out of bed. You dragged your feet into the bathroom and took a quick shower before getting dressed in warm layers of clothing and made you way out of your apartment. You made your way to the café two blocks away from your home. The warm ambiance of the café welcoming you in as you sniffled from the cold.

“Hey, wow you come to this café too?” His voice slammed into you as your eyes widened. You looked to your left from where his voice came. Taeyong was sitting at a table with his laptop open in front of him, an empty coffee cup pushed away from him and a half-eaten piece of cake.

“Looks like it.” You replied flatly before moving towards the line. Pulling your wallet out of your pocket you pulled out your card. You didn’t need to look at the menu you already knew what you wanted.

“What are you gonna get?” He was behind you.

“Didn’t you already order?” You asked in return glancing at him over your shoulder.

“I – uh well, yeah.” You turned your head back towards the front. “But I wanted another drink.”

You ignored him the rest of the time that you stood in line. When it was your turn you ordered a coffee and chocolate chip muffin.

“Anything else?” The barista asked smiling at you.

“Oh yeah, an iced americano as well please,” Taeyong said cutting you off before you could speak. The girl behind the counter didn’t bat an eye as she punched that in and then told you the total. You were staring at Taeyong with your mouth slightly open due to the shock that you felt. You narrowed your eyes at him and moved to pay, you were again cut off by him as he moved his card over the machine.

“I got this.” He said and smiled at you. You didn’t smile back.

“Well thank you I guess.” You said and moved out of the way so that the next person could order.

The both of you stood beside each other silently as you waited for your order to be done, your drink came out first followed by your muffin. You moved to grab them but Taeyong scooped them up before you could.

“Uh-”

“I’m just gonna take them to our table. Grab my drink when it gets out.” You scowled at his back as he turned away from you and went back to his seat. His drink came out not even seconds later. You thanked the barista and made your way over to his table. Putting his drink down in front of him you made to grab for your stuff and leave.

“Whoa, where are you going?” He asked grabbing your wrist as you grabbed for the muffin. “I bought it, come on the least you can do is sit with me.” You stared at him for a second, finally properly looking at him. His big eyes were looking up at you expectantly, his lips formed into a small pout. You sighed and wiggled your wrist out of his. This was the hockey team’s captain? His pout gave way to a large smile as you took the seat from across him. He closed his laptop as you got comfortable in front of him.

You took him in as you took a sip of your coffee, his dark hair was died a blue so dark you thought it was black, and his skin was smooth. It made you jealous just looking at him a hockey player had no business looking this…beautiful.

“You’re staring at me.” He said snapping you out of your daze.

“Why am I sitting with you?” You asked in turn ignoring the fact that you had indeed been staring at him.

“Why not?” He asked in turn, “It’s better than sitting alone isn’t it?”

You stared at him again, he took a sip from his straw you watched as his throat worked, swallowing the drink. You didn’t say anything in reply. He was right it was better than sitting alone, but he and his friends were a reminder of what you had lost.

The rest of your time was spent with him talking and asking you questions about your day, you told him the same story you told your mom.

The next day you had the sports medicine class again. Your alarm went off and today you got out of your bed not wanting to repeat yesterday. You dragged yourself up and got ready for the day.

The class was the same as always, you not paying attention as the prof spoke about whatever topic. When the class ended you didn’t pack slowly, today you packed quickly to get out of the room before Taeyong decided he wanted to talk to you again.

You rushed out of the classroom, and out the building, you were halfway down the stairs when your ankle rolled and you plummeted down the five stairs left. Your hand slammed into the ground hard and your foot ached. Luckily you didn’t slam your head into the ground.

Groaning you moved slowly to get up, grabbing the railing you heaved yourself up by using the hand that hadn’t been hurt. You took large breaths as you finally came to stand. People around you ignored you walking by you as you clung to the railing trying to not cry at the pain.

“Are you okay?” He was there staring down at you with a worried expression on his face. You couldn’t look at him for longer than a couple of seconds. Why was he all of a sudden everywhere? Why was he always around you? He didn’t even know you.

He came down the steps taking in how you were standing, noticing the water gathering in your eyes.

“Did you fall?” He asked. You only looked down letting your hair fall around your face. You didn’t need this from him. You didn’t need him to hound you, you didn’t need him to buy you coffee, you didn’t need him to sit with you in the library. You didn’t need his pity.

“Leave me alone Taeyong.” He didn’t reply and you didn’t look up. But he didn’t move away from you.

“Let me help you home.” You closed your eyes pain rolling up your foot as you put it flat on the ground.

“I’m fine I can make it myself. Just – just go away.” You moved off the railing talking a slow and painful step away from him. You couldn’t help but limp.

“You’re clearly not fine. Just let me help you.” He said grabbing your arm as you took another painfully slow step.

“Look I don’t need your pity.” You snapped at him yanking your arm out of his hand. He was silent for a second before he laughed. Snapping your head towards him again you frowned.

“You think I pity you?” Even though he laughed you could see that the statement bothered him. His eyes weren’t shining the way they always did when he spoke. “I don’t pity you Y/N. Some people can just be nice to others without having an underlying reason.”

You still frowned at him, but you let him take your bag. You let him wrap his arm around your waist as you wrapped yours around his shoulder and you told him how to get to your apartment.

For the rest of the week, he checked on you, making sure your foot was getting better, taking you anywhere you wanted to go. He kept you company and for the first time in a long while you felt less lonely.

Loud knocks pulled you away from the Netflix show you were watching. You knew it was Taeyong, only because no one else came to your apartment.

“You know I’m fine now. You don’t have to keep coming over.” You stated while pulling open the door. He laughed pushing past you. He put the takeout he brought onto your coffee table making himself comfortable on your couch.

“Maybe I just like you.” He spoke. Your breath stopped for a second. Like you. You turned away from him to lock the door. You willed your face to calm down as you turned back around, not having anything to say back to what he said. You made your way back to the couch and sat beside him. He passed you cutlery as he unpacked the food. You tried not to stare at him as he sat across from you on the couch and ate. Periodically stealing a glance, you tried your best to not be obvious. Halfway through the show that you had started, you stole another glance at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“You're cute you know that?” The words that he said didn’t register in your head. He leaned to the side of his hand getting closer to you. “The way you keep glancing at me thinking I’m not noticing.” Your breath hitched in your throat when he leaned further towards his other hand moving onto your thigh.

“I’m going to kiss you Y/N.” His face a centimetre away from yours. You didn’t stop him.

You didn’t stop him when that kiss turned from a simple kiss to something more. When his hands travelled under your shirt, into your pants. You didn’t stop when he guided your hand to him when he pushed himself into you. You didn’t stop yourself from letting his name roll off your tongue as the world split in two. You didn’t stop him when he pulled you close to him after whispering into your ear how perfect you were.

“I like you Y/N.” He said again as you drifted off in his arms, your head pressed into his chest. You didn’t stop yourself when your heart melted at his words. When your brain said them back to him. But you stopped yourself when the words made their way to your lips. You stopped yourself then.

You wanted to blame him still. You wanted to blame him and his friends still. But every day that he spoke to you, every day that he went out of his way to find you. You realized you couldn’t because he started coming with you to the library every Monday. He went to the café with you on Tuesday. On Wednesday he’d walk you home. On Thursday he’d bring over dinner to your apartment after his practice, and Friday to Saturday he was busy with hockey, so you didn’t see him. But each day that passed you realized he was not to blame, he was a kind-hearted boy who chose to see the good in the world, and for some reason, he was forcing his way into your life, into your heart. You found yourself looking forward to the moments that Taeyong would come and find you. To the moments where he would text you or call you at night to see how you were. He saw you, you realized, and he stayed. He stayed even though you were a mess. Even though you would snap at him, even though you didn’t deserve him. He stayed, he showed up. And slowly you were faced with the fact staring blankly in your face that you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself. Because despite everything you didn’t show up that day.

“Come on Y/N, Yuta will be there, and he actually invited us himself,” Ara begged. You just shook your head at her.

“I can’t today. I’m not feeling it.” You stayed seated on the couch as she tugged on your arm, a laugh erupting from you at her childish antics.

“But you’re my best friend in the whole wide world I need you there with me!” Her expression was desperate, it made you laugh even more.

“Sorry Ara, but I don’t feel like it. I’ll go next time though. If he invited, you once he’ll invite you again.” You reasoned. She stopped tugging on you and sighed obviously annoyed but letting you go.

“Okay fine.”

You passed out on the couch and woke hours later. Seven missed calls from Ara, and then a missed call from an unknown number only a couple of minutes ago. Confused you called Ara back, but she didn’t answer. Worry etched away at your stomach as you tried again, Again no answer.

The unknown number called again. You gripped the counter to not fall over as shock ran through your body your mind being taken over by a loud ringing you couldn’t understand what the voice on the line was saying any more just that she was gone.

You were pulled out of your head as your phone started to ring in your hand. Taeyong. You were sitting alone in your living room in the dark, your eyes glued to the phone as you tried to push away the dark thoughts that entered your head. The call ended the screen going black and a sense of urgency ripped through you a panic that rattled around your insides. Unlocking your phone quickly, you called him back.

“Hey.” He chirped through the phone.

“Are you okay?” It spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it. You sounded winded and frantic.

“Yeah,” His word was slow, “Y/N are you okay?” he asked in turn. You froze. No.

“Yes.” If you’d been awake and answered maybe she’d have answered just the way he did.

But you let her die. You didn’t go with her. Then you fell asleep and didn’t answer her call. She got into the car with a drunk idiot and died. You could have stopped it. If you had answered right away maybe she would have replied just like he did. With a happy ‘hey.’

“Y/N?” His voice tugged at you again, pulling you back to him and away from your own mind. “Are you there?”

“Yes, what did you say?”

“Did you wanna come out for a drink with me and the guys?”

“Yes.”

You didn’t understand why he was being so kind. You hadn’t done anything to deserve the kindness that he was just giving you. He was making sure you didn’t feel uncomfortable with his friends. In the time that you two had been hanging out he’d learned so much about you and you were realizing it only just today. He knew what drink you wanted and had it for you before you even got there. He let you sit on the outside of the bench in the booth because he knew you’d hate it on the inside. He gathered so much information about you in the time and you knew what? Nothing.

“So, you’re the girl that’s been keeping our captain busy for the past month and a half.” Johnny teased you once everyone had settled into their spots. You smiled at him red painting your cheeks. Taeyong pulled you into his side shooting Johnny a warning glare that you noticed.

You sat with them as they spoke about their upcoming game schedule. As they commented on the games that appeared on the screens all around the bar. You spoke only when they asked you a question or when you had a question yourself. You’d direct it to Taeyong, and he’d answer back softly explaining whatever thing you’d asked him about the sport he played. Slowly it became too much, you looked at the boys around you at the table, at their laughing faces and you realized you didn’t fit in here. You didn’t fit into his world. You didn’t fit into anyone’s world, you barely fit into your own. You didn’t deserve to sit at this table, not with the laughter that floated around you. You couldn’t help but feel that there was a laugh missing. This was what Ara had wanted so bad. To sit at a table with them. to sit next to the boy sitting right in front of you, she’d wanted to be tucked under his arm just as you were tucked under Taeyong’s.

“I have to go.” You said and abruptly got up, shocking them into an abrupt silence as you ran out the bar and down the street. Tears began to run down your cheeks, and you tried to get far away from them, far away from him.

“Y/N!” You didn’t look back, but you knew he was following you; you couldn’t take it. You didn’t deserve to sit with them, you didn’t deserve to be with him. Not when this was what she’d wanted. Not when she should have been here with you. With them.

He caught your wrist spinning you around to face him, but you didn’t look at him, you turned your head to the side biting your lip as tears ran down your face still.

“Let me go Taeyong.” You said your voice small and shaking. His grip on your wrist only tightened.

“No.”

A sob threatened to rip out your mouth. You closed your eyes and took in slow breaths.

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He said and pulled you closer to him.

“I – I can’t -” It was getting hard to breathe as you buried your head into his chest. He wrapped his arm around you holding you tight as you silently cried. Pulling away only slightly when you calmed down a little bit, he looked at your red face. Your eyes were swollen and your lips cracked. You looked like a mess, runny nose and all.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” He spoke. You stared back up at him, you took in the way his gentle eyes looked at you the way his hair blew in the autumn wind, the way his ears were tinted red from the cold. You couldn’t help yourself you pushed up on your feet and pressed your lips against his. He instantly replied, his mouth moving against yours. His hands tightening on the fabric of your jacket. You kissed him until you couldn’t breathe again until every breathe you had felt like his. Until you couldn’t take anymore. You didn’t deserve him.

Pulling away from him you pushed him away from you.

“I can’t do this. I can’t -” You couldn’t finish your sentence. You ran away from him again. He yelled your name again into the night air, but you didn’t look back didn’t look to see if he was following. You ran, ran until your lungs were gasping for breath until your throat was so dry that you couldn’t swallow your own spit. Until your legs gave out and you fell onto the grass gasping for air.

This was how your life had been, this is what you deserved.

The following week you didn’t go to school, you didn’t answer any of his calls. He came to your door every day and you ignored him. You barely ate and slept. You didn’t even make it to the shower most days. I deserve this. You’d tell yourself over and over in your head. Until there were no other thoughts but those three words drowning you.

It was Monday, and he’d had enough. You could tell because the banging at your door was so loud that you could feel it in your head. You’d just gotten out of the shower and had gotten back into bed. Pulling the covers over your head. Slowly you got out of bed and made your way to the door. He wasn’t going to leave today. You could tell. You opened the locks and then the door.

The lights in the hallway were so bright they made him look ethereal. He was in a black bomber jacket paired with jeans. His nose and ears were red from the cold again. You squinted up at him. You watched his pained eyes take you in, the dark circles under your eyes the way you looked small.

“Go away.” You said, not being able to look at him any longer, not being able to stand the emotions in his eyes. He caught the door as you closed it, he pushed back against it opening it and moving in past you.

“Stop ignoring me.” He said and closed the door. He reached for you, his hand grabbing air as you stepped far out of his reach.

“Did I do something wrong?” His face breaking as he asked you. Your eyes widened at him and your heart cracked more than it already had.

“No.”

“Then why?” You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t say anything. He took a step towards you and you moved back again. “Why?” His voice was small, pleading with you. You closed your eyes as tears gathered again.

“I don’t deserve you okay?” Your voice harsh. You didn’t look at him as tears spilled down your cheeks, you turned your head down letting your hair cover your face. Opening your eyes, you watched as your tears hit the hardwood floor of your living room.

“I don’t deserve anything. She died because I couldn’t help her.” Your vision blurred more and more, as you spoke. You felt him take a step towards you and you took another back. “I’ll just ruin you.”

“Ara?” He asked. Your head snapped up to him, his eyes were tearing up as well as he looked at you. You were shocked that her name came out of his mouth. You put your hand over your mouth as a sob tore from you. He took another step towards you, and you took one back hitting the wall behind you. Finally, he had his arms around you, he pulled you into his chest.

“That wasn’t your fault.” He spoke. “That was on the guy who lied to her and told her he didn’t drink. That was on the guy who let her get into his car.” You sobbed into his chest as he spoke. “I know about her Y/N I was at that party. Yuta was wreaked for weeks after that. But it isn’t his fault. It’s most certainly not your fault. I didn’t realize that you were her best friend until Yuta told me after he met you at the bar.” You only sobbed harder into his chest.

“I can’t change your mind baby; I can just tell you that you deserve happiness. You deserve good things in your life. I didn’t know Ara, but I do know that she'd hate to see you like this.” His hand moved from the back of your head to the side of your face, pulling your face up to look into his eyes.

“If anything, babe I don’t deserve you.” He said, more tears slipped down your face. He was perfect. That was the only thing your brain could think as you looked up at him. His warm hand on your cheek, his arm wrapped around you. The warmth of his body against yours. Everything about him. He was perfect.

He put his forehead against yours, your breathing turning into his as your breathing became shallow. His mouth inches away from your own, your hand knotting into the front of his t-shirt you pulled yourself up, closing the small gap between you and him. His mouth was warm and careful. He was going slow, afraid you’d scare away. But you weren’t going to. You may not be okay yet, but you weren’t gonna get better without him. You needed him. You wanted him. He was your cure. You’d get better for him, with him.

Ara’s mother told you the day of her funeral that people never truly leave us, they come back to watch over us. You full-heartedly believed that this had Ara written all over it. Taeyong randomly showing up to sit by you in the library, at the café, helping you when you got hurt, calling you at the right time all the time, cheering you up before you could even get down, moving his way into your life. This had the scheming hand of your best friend all over it.

You deepened the kiss leaning into the wall, pulling him with you. His hand moved under your shirt pulling it up over your head, only leaving your mouth for that one second to get it over your head.

Somehow the two of you were in your bed, all your clothes gone, his mouth was moving down your neck leaving small marks down your throat on your collarbone to the swell of your breasts. With each bite a small moan left you, each kiss took your breath away. His mouth closed around the hard nub of your nipple pulling on it gently with his teeth, drawing his name from your mouth. His head moved lower, lower until you couldn’t take it anymore. Pulling him back up to you, you pressed your mouth against his, his tongue finding his way to yours instantly.

“I need you now.” You said, wrapping your arm around his shoulder. He looked down at you with so much emotion in his eyes, so much care you almost melted from just his gaze. “Please.” With that, he pressed his mouth back to yours lining himself up at your entrance. His lips moved against yours as he pushed in, swallowing your moan as he filled you.

You moaned, your mouth leaving his as his hips moved against yours. Only the sounds of moans and your skin against his filing up your small room.

He pressed his forehead against yours, “Look at me, babe.” You opened your eyes and held his gaze your back arched as the world faded to a bright white, his name rolling off your tongue as he nipped at your bottom lip. His thrusts became rushed as he soon followed moaning into your neck, before relaxing on top of you. You kissed him again as you both calmed down.

After some time, he pulled out, laying beside you and pulling you into his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you started to drift off.

“I love you Y/N.” This time you didn’t stop yourself.

“I love you too Taeyong.”

A/N: The next part will be Yuta’s I’m going to make this a three part trilogy! Please let me know your thoughts, it means a lot to hear what you guy think!

294 notes · View notes

tellmenauineo · 3 years

Text

colored by you

pairing: mingyu x reader, vernon x reader

genre: soulmate!au, angst, fluff, smut, comedy (at some points)

warnings: mentions of alcholol and weed, language, unprotected sex

summary: eventually, we fall in love with people who the universe destined us to. but there are complications sometimes.

word count: 11k (i refuse to comment)

a/n: tell me what you think even if you found it bad 🤧🤧 i’m in NEED of feedback,, stay safe during the pandemic and feel free to talk to me!! i’m sorta back 🤠🤠

“I'd prefer if you showed more enthusiasm about it. Success is never an accident,” your mother reads you a lesson, a reproach can be heard in her voice. Your sigh, wishing this conversation to be over so you’ll finally be able to hang up your phone.

“Some people aren't built happy, or cheerful, or forever excited, you know,” you mumble. “I'm satisfied with my academical success – but maybe it isn't a thing I want to achieve now. I don't know.”

“Of course, people aren't built happy – that’s why the Universe made a soulmate for each of us. To make us happy. That's how it works.”

“Uh-huh.”

“One day you’ll understand,” your mother continues. “And you will be happier, happier than ever. Your time will come.”

You won't understand.

The Universe made a soulmate for each of us. The Universe made sure we’ll be aware who is the one, the one, as your mother says, who’ll make you happier and complete, too. It's pretty simple. First words addressing you that you would hear from your soulmate get imprinted on the skin of your ribcage. Close to your heart.

The mechanism of The Universe is perfect. But, sometimes, even perfect-made things get broken.

You won't understand because you already have words tattooed on your skin.

“I guess, we can say love is an accident, isn't it?” you say. “Anyway, I gotta go, mom. I'll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Take care of yourself. And don't stay up late.”

“We both know I'm gonna stay up late,” you smile. “Bye!”

It happened in cold January, four months ago.

“Shrimp Pad Thai?” Chan asks you.

“Mm, yes,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. Chan gasps and raises his eyebrows in a fake disbelief, but you don't let him open his mouth to say something very sarcastic about you and your habits in eating. “I'm your customer, where are your manners? What if I leave?”

“Then you'll leave and won't have our Shrimp Pad Thai which you order five days a week,” he shrugs.

“I'm older than you – pay me respect!”

“I do? Always? Our very important customer who always eats the same,” he playfully sing-songs and you roll your eyes, trying your best not to give him a smile.

“Go and get us food already,” Momo says. “Both of you better not play on my nerves when I'm hungry.”

When the orders are made and Chan leaves to the kitchen, you get up from your seat.

“I'm going to wash my hands,” you announce, and your friend nods at it.

On your way to the restrooms you recognize a bunch of boys sitting at the window booth. Kim Mingyu, Wen Junhui and Jeon Wonwoo – all of them are in Soonyoung’s group of friends. Wonwoo smiles and waves his hand and you return the gesture. You nod at Junhui and Mingyu – who looks incredibly soft and cute in his light-gray hoodie with his rose cheeks – seems that the ramen he is eating is too spicy for him. He gives you a little “hey”, smiling at you, and you immediately feel how your own cheeks turn blushy. To prevent your embarrassment in front of them, you try to speed up, but, suddenly, collide with someone.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You look up at the source of the voice, Chwe Hansol, the new Soonyoung’s roommate you heard a lot about (and you’re aware that Soonyoung not just can’t stop telling embarrassing stories about you to his roommate, but also shows him your pictures, because yes, in Soonyoung’s words, it’s a crime if you don’t put on display your best friend and your wonderful, a movie-worthy, friendship) and, apparently, there is no bottle of chilli sauce in his hands. A smug smile is playing on his lips and his chocolate eyes are glistening with a mischief.

“Nice try,” you don't hide a hint of a wipe in your voice as you start moving towards the restrooms – you swear a trip to them never took that long.

You catch Hansol's gaze on you on the way back to your and Momo’s booth and you have nothing to do but narrow your eyes at him, making him smile even wider.

“He's cute, though. The Hansol guy I mean,” Momo concludes after you finished your dinner. “But no shit they're loud.”

You cast an eye at their boost. Mingyu is the loudest and the most talkative among them – but, somehow, looking at him telling something, wildly gesticulating, makes your heart melt a little.

Stupid, you think, it's almost close to feeling happy.

You spot the tattoo when you go to take a shower that night.

Your heart sinks at the sight of the words.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You don't tell anyone.

“I can take it as an offend, you know,” Soonyoung whines. “You've been turning down my home party offers for more than a month!”

“Um, you haven’t had any,” you say.

It’s true – you try your best to avoid Hansol, and it works even despite the fact he lives with your best friend (sometimes you’re wondering how Soonyoung and Hansol, the pair of complete opposites, rub along okay together, but maybe opposites indeed attract?). You’re not fond of the idea you reduced all your social interactions, but at least you do your huge amount of homework in time – that’s why Soonyoung once called you a homework-doing machine.

Yes, that’s lame.

“It’s because you didn’t come!”

You’re clearly under pressure. You can crack under it a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“Because I-” you forget what you want to say to explain yourself. Or, rather, to fudge up an excuse to trick Soonyoung and keep staying from Hansol as long as possible. “It’s complicated. Besides, your roommate sticks at home for days on end, and if I want to spend time with you I want us to be alone,” you point at him with your pen.

His eyes are getting wider and wider with each millisecond and finally he gasps,

“Are you in love with me?!”

Well.

“What if I am?” you challenge. At the end of the day, that’s the words of the woman who has nothing to lose.

“I-” it’s Soonyoung, who is under pressure right now. “I love you, you know it-”

“But, there’s always a but,” you sigh in a fake manner. “I understand. Maybe I haven’t yearned it yet,” you place your hand over his, and his eyes are glued to your hands. “But, Soonyoung, I want to hear ‘horanghae’ from you someday. Will my dream come true?”

He lifts up his eyes to you. Soonyoung’s known you for over a decade and he clearly can say you’re on the verge of bursting into a hearty laugh despite your dying attempts to keep your face straight. He snaps his hand away and stands up.

“Yah! You betrayed me!” he points a finger at you. “Yah!” he continues in a voice that is a few octaves higher than his usual. “You are gonna pay for your betrayal!”

“Sure thing,” you manage to say through your laugh. You’re well aware that almost all eyes in the campus cafeteria are on you, but it was quite common when the two of you were together. “I’ll see you in court, horangi.”

You wish you were in court.

Instead, you’re in Soonyoung and Hansol’s kitchen, mixing the sickest possible cocktail ever – and you’re not proud of yourself.

“Why it looks like wiper fluid but tastes like lab alcohol?” Seungkwan asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Your mirror his expression.

“Um, the creator would like to take to his own grave the secret receipt of this… shit,” you say.

By the creator you mean Soonyoung. You’re on duty tonight – it’s Hansol and Seokmin’s double birthday party and you’re in charge of everything – your best friend had no mercy for the cafeteria joke.

“Don’t tell me the upcoming birthday cakes have the same creator,” the boy says, patting his blond locks back into place. You assume he was dancing, or, more likely, slamming in the living room, while you hide in the kitchen, still avoiding Seokmin co-star of this night, Hansol.

“Nah, I ordered them in the bakery. Customized ones!”

“You should’ve asked me to bake the cakes,” the third person enters the room, and your heart skips a bit. Mingyu walks towards you and Seungkwan and leans on the counter, still having his eyes on you. “I need to improve my baking skills.”

You feel how your cheeks flushing up. Shit, you curse in your head, he just made an appearance and you’re already turning into mush.

“Next time maybe?” you ask, your voice is much more gentle than usual. “Whose birthday is next?”

“Mine,” smiles Mingyu. “But I don’t want to hold a party this year – wanna share a dinner tete-a-tete with someone.”

“Such a great plan! Except for one thing – you don’t have ‘someone’,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“I’ll find one,” Mingyu’s words are steady but his movements are not. His right elbow slips off the counter, and the boy hisses. “I’m already working on this.”

“Sure thing, tiger,” you smile despite feeling that something is scratching your guts in your belly – disappointment? jealousy? sadness? Maybe all of them and maybe none.

You have a soulmate for fuck’s sake and it’s not Mingyu.

“Whatever,” Seungkwan mutters. “I’m going back to the party and I strongly recommend you to stop hiding here,” he says, looking you right in the eyes. “He won’t bite you, you know?”

“What are you talking about?!” you exclaim, but Seungkwan only shrugs.

“Have no idea.”

You want to follow him, take him by the shoulders and ask about everything he knows about – did Hansol tell him about you? Seems so. Has he, Seungkwan, launched the making of the two of you a couple campaign? If yes, you’re doomed.

Mingyu stops you from storming out of the kitchen – you’re back to the reality with his warm hand wrapped around your wrist and you turn to him in surprise, your cheeks already flushed.

“Yes?” you manage to mumble.

“Who are you hiding from?” he asks, and you almost hear concern in his voice. Or maybe you imagine it all.

“Um- no one? He’s being delusional like always, you know?”

“You sure?’ his hand is getting lower, and unexpectedly you find your fingers intertwining with his. Mingyu’s hand is much larger and warmer than yours, his hold isn’t tight, but it magically makes you forget about the whole the soulmate and his wingman thing.

It makes you forget about everything except for this particular moment – Mingyu’s dark eyes on you, your hand in his and the echo of the music playing in the living room. His bronze skin’s glowing in the dim kitchen light (one of the bulbs is dead and neither Soonyoung or Hansol wants to do something about it), his face is innocent and the only thing you can think about – your uncontrollable desire to kiss off two worry lines between his perfect eyebrows.

You don’t even notice that you’re holding your breath, too afraid to interrupt the moment.

“I’m sure,” you whisper and he nods. Mingyu probably can hear the beating of your racing heart, and you don’t mind at all – you would eagerly tell him how he makes you feel if he wants to know.

He leans closer to you, his breath is tickling the soft skin of your cheek and you hear him ask,

“May I?”

But before you can nod, Seokmin’s piercing voice, like a bolt out of the blue, is calling your name,

“Soonyoung’s trying to kiss me!”

He is louder than any bomb, you think, and that’s enough to take you out of the trance. You slowly turn to him, letting go of Mingyu’s hold on your wrist.

“It’s his way to wish you a happy birthday,” you negotiate, but Seokmin’s gaze is wandering between your and Mingyu’s bodies. His hand follows his eyes, gesturing at the two of you.

“Are you-”

“No, no, no,” you cut him off.

“Man, you need me to get the thing squared away?” Mingyu sounds irritated. You turn your head to steal a look of him. You never saw him like that – at least, not with his friends. Even when his team was defeated at the bowling a month or so ago he seemed worn out, but no hint of irritation on his face – just an exhausted smile combined with a self-mockery behavior. That night you almost regretted saying your wrist was injured so you spent the whole game sipping bubble teas instead of helping your team from sinking to the bottom.

(Jeonghan didn’t buy that spectacular performance, by the way)

“I came to complain?” he looks at you, the eyes so innocent, calling for help, so you smile in response – it’s always like this with Seokmin – the boy can melt even stone hearts.

“Let me check on him,” you say to Seokmin, and he eagerly nods. You pat on Mingyu’s right forearm, your fingers stay on his hard bicep for a little too long, and it makes you lick your lips. “And if he needs to get into bed, I expect some help from you, Mingyu.”

His face softens, and he chuckles, closing his eyes for a second.

“Let’s get it then.”

“I ain’t leaving till I help you with this,” Mingyu says, referring to the apartment that looks like a battlefield (of beer pong). “You already look tired.”

“I’m tired,” you admit. “But you have classes like in…” you check your watch. “…four hours.”

“I’ll sit in the back of the classroom,” seeing the question in your eyes, he adds. “I’ll catch some sleep, don’t worry.”

“Sounds stupid, but I guess nothing would change your mind,” you give up, and a proud smile appears on his face. “The living room is yours then,” you give him an evil smile, your hand lands on his firm chest, patting it twice. “Have fun!”

When you step into the kitchen, a sigh of disappointment leaves your lips, despite your vain attempt to suppress it.

Hansol sits in the white plastic chair, mindlessly scrolling through whichever app is it’s feed. He looks up at you, but he next second his eyes are back on the screen.

Your body feels stiff, like you’re made of wood, but you force yourself to approach the counter. The desire to disappear is so strong that you find yourself not breathing at all – like if you make less noises, the more Hansol is unaware you’re in the same room with him.

You grab a handful of orange peels to throw in the trash can under the sink when you hear Hansol voice, “Why didn’t you throw out all of them?” You turn to the boy, cheeks already red, and anger is bubbling in your stomach. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he lets a hoarse laugh.

“I’m joking, jeez. No need to sulk.”

You don’t return his smile, instead turning away from him to take the leftovers, and say,

“It couldn’t fit in my hand.”

He coos at your words, and you feel stupid.

“Soonyoung was right. You’re an absolute doll.”

“Not impressed,” you roll your eyes, but you feel no confidence in your voice. You face Hansol again, a mischievous glint in his big eyes can be spotted even from across the kitchen. “Your eyes are red,” you notice. “Are you stoned?”

“Maybe so,” he yawns, stretching out in the chair that is about to crack under his weight at any minute. “I don’t mind you tucking me in, though. You seem to be a pro.”

“Well, don’t overdo it,” you say. “The scientists say weed makes people stupid.”

“And affects their memory,” he adds. “But it makes me copy.”

“With what?”

Hansol shrugs and his gaze falls to his knees. He radiates hesitation, and you gulp the pulse in your throat, afraid to hear the truth.

“With me being avoided by my own soulmate like I’m sorta of a plague? Sorta.”

A wave of pure heat that feels like a fever, a bad fever, runs through your body. The whole soulmate thing was supposed to be a blessing, but it feels like a curse. Without thinking, you pathetically mumble,

“I thought you don’t care.”

You really did. For the last few weeks you’ve been living in the bubble made of your own sorrows, disappointments, and self-pity, and the thought of what Hansol feels and thinks about it never crossed your mind.

“Whatever,” he says. “I got your point.”

Hansol doesn’t wait for the unspoken words that are stuck in the back of your throat, ringing in your ears over and over as you watch him leaving the kitchen. He stops at the doorframe with his hand in his dark locks – it’s so odd to see him not wearing a beanie – and slowly turns to you.

“Leave this shit to Soonyoung,” he says.

“Okay,” you mutter.

He calls your name, shooting the arrow of guilt right into your heart.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

When Mingyu returns to ask where he can find another bag for trash, you cling to the boy’s chest, and skipping all the questions on the tip of his tongue, Mingyu clasps his arms around you. His chin is snuggling upon your head and you feel pressure inside of the bubble reducing a little.

But a tremendous guilt envelops you with each minute.

Momo stares at your figure as you sit across her – your hair cascading down onto your hunched shoulders, your face is covered with your hands, and the girl only huffs.

“Should I expect some fake sobs?”

You spare a fiery glance at her, but she just waves you off in dismisal. Momo doesn’t even trying to hide her irritation with you – the first thing she asked you after you finally had decided to spill the whole situation to her was ‘Could you have taken any longer to tell me?” and you can’t blame her.

“Yah, leave these tricks for your future sweetheart Sollie. I’m not buying it.”

“He is not my future sweetheart,” you argue. “It doesn’t work!”

“Because you never gave it a chance,” she isn’t convinced, and her stern tone makes you consider the words more carefully.

“He hates me now!”

“First, you deserved it. No offense. Second, he seems like a crackhead, such people don’t hate other people, they just don’t care about them.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” you exclaim, and her face breaks into a triumphant smile. “What?”

“Look at you, already defending your soulmate,” she says in a saccharine voice. “Ask him out and fall in love. Choose life. Choose a loveseat coach.”

“Isn’t it from Trainspotting movie?” you question, narrowing your eyes.

“And what about it?” she huffs once again. “It doesn’t make me wrong. It always starts with a crush. Just let it happen.”

A crush, huh? A crush that makes your heart beats harder; that sends you floating in your daydreams; that makes you the happiest person in the whole universe, but at the same time has the power to make you sadder than the most distant and loneliest star from the Sun?

Just like the one you have on Mingyu?

Momo still doesn’t know how you feel about the tall, black-haired boy, and you aren’t ready to tell her the truth. Partly because you want to protect this thing from the outer world, make it special, make it a secret that can be kept by the two only, and, partly because you’ll face the wall of misunderstanding. You could fool around with the boys before, but now you’re certain with the one who is destined for you. And you can’t – you shouldn’t – seek for another lover. It’s wrong.

The ability to make all your problems yourself will never fail to amaze you.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “If you’re so smart.”

“I could’ve been your mother, though. You should follow my every word.”

“Momo, we literally were born in the same decade,” you sigh, but the girl has no intention to follow any of your words.

[mingyyuu 17:13] it’s so cold today!! stay inside 🖤

[you 17:14] too late :// plans!!

[mingyyuu 17:16] any plans for tomorrow?

[you 17:16] not yet

[mingyyuu 17:17] now you have some!

The boy continues to type, but you have to put the phone in the back pocket of your jeans – you’re awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other at the doorstep, not able to say anything – even a small ‘hello’.

“Soonyoung’s at the dance practice,” Hansol breaks the silence.

“I know his schedule better than he does,” you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I came for your soul.”

Hansol raises his brows, his eyes never leave yours as he steps aside to let you in. The boy helps you with your jacket, and you mutter a small ‘thank you’, hoping he’ll take the initiative, even despite the fact it’s you who came to talk.

“How are you doin’?” maybe it’s a soulmate thing to read each other’s mind? You look at Hansol and you have a feeling that you’ll never be able to go through the guard around him and straight to his head. His expression is neutral, and you admit that he doesn’t even need to try look beautiful.

“Nothing much,” you response. “What ‘bout you?”

“Okay. Wanna drink something?”

“A pepsi please?”

“We only have a few cans of coke, do you wanna?”

You already feel strange of that crazy amount of questions for the beginning – the situation becomes more and more awkward that you’re able to feel the pressure of the air in the room. Your temples pulse a little, threating a headache.

“Nah, I’m fine then,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I came here to say I’m sorry and-”

“And?”

“Do you think we should be together?”

“It how it works,” he lets out a dry laugh. Hansol looks down to your face, his hand reaches out to stroke your shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

The grip on your temples is too tight to bear, and you let out a heavy pant.

“My head hurts,” you explain, squeezing your eyes shut – the light is too bright.

“You need to lie down,” Hansol says. “It’s probably because the temperature difference between inside and outside. I’ll bring painkillers to Soonyoung’s bedroom.”

You nod, heading off to the bedroom. What a great wat to talk - show up at someone’s doorstep just to say you have a headache. Great. Not bothering yourself with discarding your clothes, you collapse stomach-down onto the bed without removing the cover, your face is buried in the soft material.

“Shit, you’ll suffocate if you stay like this,” Hansol’s deep voice wafts on your ears. You slowly lean on your elbows to steal a glance at him. After placing the glass of water and the blister of painkillers at the night stand, he gets down on his haunches, his eyes at the same level as yours. You stay like this for some time, not saying a word, mesmerized by his face.

“What did you do before I came?” you ask out of sudden. Hansol seems to be taken aback with your question.

“Tried to make some music,” he gawks, blinking at you.

“Really?” you ask in a low voice.

“Mostly checked the mic with some ‘yeah’s’ and ‘yo’s’”, he admits, an amusing laugh escapes his mouth. “I’ll try to do something while you’re resting, good?”

You nod you head and smile at him. He gently squeezes your shoulder and stands up. Before he disappears out of the bedroom, you say,

“Do you have any siblings?”

He turns to you, leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah. I have a little sister. You?”

You shake your head no and he nods.

“But it was easy to guess you’re not the only child, though,” it’s difficult to see his face in the darkness, but your eyes never leave him.

“How so?”

“You offer a compromise when it's unnecessarily,” you sniggle. “A man of settled habits.”

You see his wide smile in the dark.

You force your eyes open and sit up in the bed, your hair disheveled and slightly damp at the back of your neck. Headache has gone, at least for now, but your throat feels dry. When you come to the kitchen, you see the note in Hansol’s infamous unsteady handwriting left on the counter:

you can find pepsi in the fridge!

You smile at the gesture and inside you sense warmth.

You knock at Hansol’s bedroom door twice and after the boy calls out for your entry, you slip through the door.

Hansol sits at the table, bobbing his head in time with the song that hums from the speakers. His eyes are glued to his laptop, the headphones rest above his ears.

“Does the work go smoothly?” you ask, sitting at the corner of his bed. He turns to face you; a soft smile is playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s okay. There are many things that I think I’m lacking in, but I work on them,” he says in a serious tone. “But I’ve finally finished the song that had been haunting me for weeks.”

“Oh, that’s great!” you beam at him.

“Your snoring from the next room inspired me,” he places his hand over his heart. “I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

You lightly kick his calf, and the boy laughs. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes, he draws his attention back to you.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. Nodding, Hansol notices your gaze focusing on the screen of his laptop. There’re the unknown for you tools placed on his table, except for the microphone, of course, and you’re wondering what kind of music he’s into.

“Wanna hear it?” he asks, once again showing his amazing ability to read your mind.

“Yes!” you hearty nod. “Want my headache to be back.”

Hansol rolls his eyes, muttering a small ‘sure’ under his breath, and places the mouse cursor over the play button. The speakers are small, but even despite it you sense the music vibrate through your body. The beat is harsh, his voice is piercing, and it feels like the most Hansol’s thing he could’ve ever done, but at the same time you’ve got an inkling that the tune and the lyrics were created by his mysterious twin.

“You really made this?” your eyes are wide and your hand clutches hold of his wrist.

“Yeah,” he hums nervously, bringing his free hand to rub at the back of his head.

“It’s good! I can’t believe you haven’t signed a ten-million dollars contract yet!”

“You heard just one song,” he smiles in a protest. “Thanks anyway.”

“I’m right, though,” you say, your hand leaving his as you smile at him. “You should be a star! I can’t say what I liked about it ‘cause I don’t know anything about music, but the whole thing is perfect!”

He looks up to you, your cheeks flushed with passion and your eyes glisten as candles burn bright, and it brings a proud smile on his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts.

“You’re beautiful too,” your words are sincere, filled with pure appreciation you have for this melted chocolate eyed boy. The idea of you frightened of meeting him a few hours ago seems like a pure absurd right now – when the two of you sit that close to each other, you having a string of questions to ask him about his life, interests, hopes and dreams, and on your tongue the whole story of your life is tingling to be uttered at the same time.

“It was unexpected,” he chuckles. “Thanks again.”

“Thanks for the pepsi,” you return. “I thought you had only coke?”

“Um, I went to the convenience store across the street while you were asleep,” he says, his eyes are wandering on the wall. You can hardly take a breath.

“You shouldn’t have,” you say.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugs. Nodding, you slip off his bed and go toward the window. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a deep breath.

“Is Soonyoung still at the practice?” you ask, your voice is low.

“I guess,” Hansol perches at the windowsill. “I kinda lost track of time.”

You feel the heat his body radiates. Theoretically, you think, you find him somewhat sexy, really manly. His long scraggy neck, broad shoulders, a spectacular torso you can notice even under his oversized t-shirts, and athletic thighs. A month ago, your informant told you that Hansol barely shows up in the gym, and you wonder if the boy was gifted with capability of being perfect without even trying.

And still, he isn’t Mingyu, who makes you feel being in love.

You want to tell Mingyu the truth about your wrong destiny, your aching heart that can be healed with his smile only, and the feeling of your stomach filled with butterflies. You want him to hold your hand, pushing all the doubts and fears away, and make you his. His, despite the cruel joke The Universe played on you.

You think, you have a feeling, he would understand it, because he believes in strength of choice. Mingyu is in a constant state of moving forward, overcoming all obstacles he might face.

Would it be the first time when he stops?

You and Hansol both stay silent till the whole apartment echoes with Soonyoung’s ringing voice.

“Woah, I like the pictures!” Mingyu approves with a hum, adjusting something on his camera. “They’re perfect.”

“Because they’re pictures of me or because it’s you who took them?” you smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you nudge him.

“Let me think,” the boy stops in his tracks, his brows furrow in a fake manner, indicating he is absorbed in his thoughts. “Both.”

“Wow,” you play along, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. “Groundbreaking.”

He giggles and slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Wish I could tickle you right now, bit your jacket doesn’t give a chance.”

You shove off his hand and see a small pout forming on his plush lips.

“It’s my protection from pervs like you, Mingyu,” you smile innocently, casting sheeps eyes on him.

“Pervs don’t ask for a permission,” he opposes matter-of-factly. You raise your brows at him in question, and it doesn’t take long for him to explain. “Let me kiss you.”

You raise your head at Mingyu to see him smiling down at you with shining eyes, his cheeks are glowing from the frosty air.

“Go ahead,” you smile, and he leans down and kiss you. His lips are warm and sweet, and you never expect to feel care through a kiss as his mouth is covering yours. His hand cups your cheek while the other is placed tightly at the base of your neck. You trace your tongue against his lower lip, his tongue is eager to meet yours. You tease the inside of his mouth, and Mingyu lets out a small groan, which is enough to bring you to senses, and you break the kiss.

“We’re outside, Guy,” you softly remind him, your grip at his forearms is loosen.

“And so?” he whines, tugging at your sleeves to keep you body close to him.

“And we’re late,” you try to reason, but frankly speaking, you better would have stayed in the previous position you shared with Mingyu than going anywhere. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner we leave.”

The idea of karaoke night seemed promising, to say at least, but with Seungkwan occupying the microphone and Seokmin taking the guise of being his bodyguard, preventing any attempt of borrowing the tool out of his hands, ebullience faded into despair.

Jun is scrolling through his phone, and you find it okay; Soonyoung is busying himself with fourth bowl of ramen in a row, and it begins to worry you; Jihoon is yawning in thirsty eight second intervals, and the fact of you really counting begins to worry you; Mingyu’s playing with your hands, his head rests against your shoulder, you find it normal too.

You toy with his dark hair and lower yourself to whisper in his ear.

“Take me out.”

“Your wish is my command,” Mingyu smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He straightens up off the sofa and extends his hand to you. You stretch out your own hand and place it in Mingyu’s warm palm.

After wrapping everyone, except for Seungkwan who is too absorbed in the singing and waves the two of you off in dismissal, for a goodbye hug, you go downstairs to put the clothes on.

“Stop staring,” you say to Mingyu, catching his gaze in the mirror, a smile parts your lips. You pull up the hood of your jacket and turn to the boy.

“Can’t help it,” he admits, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb is stroking your cheek gently, and he leans to steal a kiss from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” Seungkwan says, puckering his face into a frown. “Came to say my goodbye, but this,” he gestures at the two of you.

“Grow up,” Mingyu shrugs his shoulders. Seungkwan’s glare bores a hole right through your head, and you can only silently pray for him to not allow his anger upstage his reason.

“Seungkwan, please,” you say. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Sure,” the younger boy rolls his eyes. “It’s not me who you should talk to, though.”

“What’s the problem?” Mingyu groans in frustration.

“I don’t know. What’s your problem?” Seungkwan scoffs, shifting his gaze from Mingyu to you and back to Mingyu again.

“It’s none of your business,” you snap. “I’m not in the mood for one of your soap operas.”

You storm out of the building, your blood is boiling with the mixture of anger, fear, and realization of all things you used to have fell to pieces in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, wait,” Mingyu grabs your hand, and you stop, too afraid to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

You’re struck by an incredible sense of fear, of confusion, of vulnerability, but you finally have to face the reality.

“The problem is,” you sigh. “Hansol is my soulmate.”

“Don’t cry,” Soonyoung tries to conciliate you, his hand is rubbing against your back, and he tightens the embrace. “I’m here for you.”

At this point, you even hate yourself for the damp spot on his sweatshirt made with your tears. You want to concentrate on Soonyoung’s words uttered in a small voice, almost whispering, but as you think about Mingyu, about how on his face thoughts and feelings seemed connate – his pained stare said everything, – standing in front of you, you feel a sharp pain in your heart.

“Do you despise me?” your voice sounds desperate.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t ask such a shitty question to my best friend,” he says. “You’re the best.”

You laugh bitterly. Soonyoung treats you too nicely – without asking why you’d been keeping so many secrets from him till this night, rebuking Seungkwan for standing guard over Hansol’s feelings, promising Mingyu will pay dearly in the nearest future for his superior sense of morality or whatever.

“What about Hansol?” you ask him, your eyes still are full of tears and pain, but you force a small smile.

“Will kick him out,” his voice is firm, and you sink your face into the soft material of his cloth, suppressing a bigger smile that threats to appear on your lips.

“Soonyoung, I’ve made four enemies this year, and it’s only the end of February,” your voice is muffled as you keep pressing your face onto the boy’s chest. “Momo, Mingyu, Hansol, Seungkwan – all of them hate me for being stupid, for not telling the truth, for being a bitch, for-”

“Shh. It’s their problem, not yours. It’s them who won’t survive ‘cause they made enemies of us. Listen to me,” he calls your name, making a passionate appeal. “We’re undefeatable, you and me.”

You lift your head at him, finding him keeping his eyes on the ceiling in a dramatic way, and you snicker. His lips twist into a broad smile, and he looks at you.

“They don’t hate you,” he says. “Life is complicating, so are we. They know about it.”

You meet Mingyu at the library. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and he’s surprisingly quiet.

“Seungkwan said Hansol fell for you only after Soonyoung’s countless ramblings about you. He indeed stared at your pics, I suppose.”

He’s in pain.

You feel empty inside; a terrible anguish seizes your heart.

“Do you feel the same about him?” an involuntary question slips off his tongue.

You want to say it’s him, it’s only him who made you fall, who made you feel at ease, who made you want to give and not just to take, but you can’t.

He waits for a response you’ll never be able to come up with.

This night you cry yourself to sleep.

Weeks go by.

The three of you – you, Hansol, and Soonyoung – glue your eyes to the television set placed at the wall of the boys’ living-room. Watching different tv series with them somehow has turned into therapy sessions – despite experiencing triggers at almost everything that is shown, you feel you’re not alone. The two of them act like nothing happened, and all of you are ready to meet your soulmates someday.

But, if nothing happened, why Mingyu’s name is forbidden from saying out loud because it would fill you with pain?

“You have popcorn crumbs on your shirt,” you notice, pointing at Soonyoung with the remote in your hand.

“I preferred watching tv to reading books when i was younger,” the boy says, dusting the crumbs off his torso and lap.

“And it shows,” you tease. Soonyoung gives you a light pinch on the side and straightens up with a huff.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. “The bathroom is occupied for the next thirty minutes.”

Hansol nods and bids Soonyoung goodnight as you blow him a kiss – his laughter never fails to boost your mood.

“Resuming?” you ask Hansol. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Neither am I.”

It’s completely dark apart from the television’s dim yellow glow. Somehow, you find yourself being distracted by almost everything – the pattern of the wooden floor, the material of the couch, the streetlamp right outside the window, the plant that is going to die soon due to Soonyoung and Hansol’s lack of care.

Hansol.

His eyes flicker in your direction, catching you staring at him. You don’t look away.

“Am I more interesting than the show?” he asks, not expecting you reply with a quiet ‘yes’. A blush coloring his cheeks can be spotted even in the poorly illuminated room.

“You’re so shy sometimes,” you remark in a low voice. “You didn’t seem so when I first met you.”

“I felt some courage out of nothing,” he shakes his head, his long and slender fingers tapping his knees. “When I saw you.”

You sigh. How the Universe can be broken? Maybe you’re broken?

“I read that if you’re dealing with schizophrenia your emotions are mixed up – you feel something you shouldn’t have felt and express something you don’t feel.”

“Scientific facts again, huh? You’re referring to me?” he grins.

“To myself, I guess,” there is no smile at your features as you sigh. “Or maybe it’s – I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Hey, I know its not gonna work but I’ll say it anyway,” he reaches out his hand to yours and gently squeezes it. “Don’t think shit about yourself. Don’t say shit,” he pauses. “When the words appeared I was surprised, no shit. But as I find out more and more things about you, all of it start to make sense. I don’t want anyone’s words but yours on me. That’s it. That’s the thing I feel.”

He’s beautiful, you think, very beautiful.

Your eyes wander over his face and finally stop at his lips. The contour of his mouth is perfect – Hansol’s lips aren’t plump, but neither are thin – just perfect – and the little bruise on his lower lip makes you unable to brush your overwhelming desire to have a lick over this exact spot. You hesitate – and even now the image of Mingyu settles on you.

But when you feel Hansol’s lips on yours, you let him in. He claims your mouth passionately, and you slide your hands into his hair, pulling on his locks, and he groans in your mouth. When you pull back for a moment, your eyes flooded with haze, Hansol traces his thumb over your slick with his spit lips, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans onto you again, his lips ghosting over yours, the redolent scent of his musky cologne makes your head even more dizzy.

“I want you,” he whispers into your lips, his voice is cracking.

“You can have me,” you breathe out, closing your eyes as his lips decorate your neck in sloppy kisses.

You can have me, but can you have my heart?

The question finds lodgment in your mind.

You might lose the thing you love the most, but life goes on… and here we stand.

You’ve discovered you’re an excellent pretender.

Pretend you think nothing of going without sleep for several nights and then attend your classes. Pretend you’re not tired. Pretend you like the tasteless dish in the restaurant Momo brought you to. Pretend it’s not painful to be in the same room with Mingyu. Pretend you love Hansol back.

“My legs are killing me,” Seungkwan whines. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take.”

Same, you think, fucking same.

“Wait a little more and I’ll buy you a hotdog,” Mingyu promises, looking over his shoulder to see you wearily stagger behind them. The combination of the three of you is weird, you find, but life goes on, isn’t it?

It’s May, and the three is you are stuck in Ikea’s mazes – Mingyu needs to buy some new furniture – this is what brings him to the mall, but also Mingyu needs someone to keep him company – and this is what brings you and Seungkwan to the same place. Mingyu calls your name, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in a question.

“You good? How ‘bout a few hotdogs after?”

“And milkshakes,” Seungkwan adds.

“Just an ice cream please,” you mumble, and he nods. Sometimes it’s so awkward – to be around him. Sometimes it’s natural. But mostly it’s painful.

Standing in the parking lot, waiting for Mingyu and Seungkwan while they’re stuffing the things Mingyu bought into the trunk of his car, you dumbly watch the ice cream steadily dripping down your hand.

Damn.

No ice cream can help you feel good even a bit.

You enter Hansol’s bedroom and find him at the wooden floor, lying on his back, eyes closed. With his arms and legs splayed out, he reminds you a giant starfish.

“Are you even breathing?” you chuckle, bending over him.

“I am,” Hansol smiles, his eyes stay closed, and he taps slightly on his chest. “C’mere.”

You oblige, your head nestle against his chest, and you hear his steady heartbeat. He wraps his left arm around you and inhales deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes out of sudden, and you turn your head to look at him. “The first words were stupid, and you’ll have them for forever.”

“Suit us very well,” you poke, and he sniffs, reaching out to slightly pinch your cheek. “Hey! Stop!”

Hansol laughs, squeezing you tighter, and the sound of his slow and steady breathing lulls you to sleep. Your gaze is directed at the ceiling as you try to fight against sleep. “You’re so composed, but also so goofy, but also so delicate,” you sigh, thinking out loud as your fingertips trace up and down the soft skin of his wrist. Hansol’s warm. “But the first words were wacky,” you chuckle. “What’ve done to deserve them?”

“It was Russian roulette, baby,” he hums, and you can hear him smiling.

You fall asleep like that. You dream about buying the beige sofa you saw in Ikea and Mingyu’s endless attempts to change your mind – the green one is a way better, he insists. The green one would suit the interior perfectly, you agree with him, but the beige one is so classy, and maybe even a little obligatory? Every apartment should have one, but Mingyu only shakes his head in frustration.

“I'm not sure you’re one hundred percent positive about what you’re convincing me of,” he purses his lips.

Dreams that are hardly can be distinguish from reality are exhausting. You wish there was a way to put this worry to bed once and for all.

“Okay, so the concept of your birthday party is dubstep,” you verify. “And the main dish excepted for a barbeque duck is an ice cream cake?”

“I scream, you scream, gimme that ice cream,” Soonyoung’s enjoyment is evidenced by his wide smile. You playfully roll your eyes, not really hiding the excitement you share with him.

“Why do I feel that we’re constantly hanging out at birthday parties?” Hansol asks, peering at his phone screen, not bothering to straighten his head from its bending position.

“Because our friend group is too huge for people our age,” you make a point.

“It’s so expensive to have a lot of friends,” Soonyoung complains, but when he meets your questionable gaze, he adds. “But for you, my bestie, money’s no object.”

“Good to know,” you laugh, your fingers leisurely run above the rim of the empty cup of matcha latte. “I’m more upset about my dear boyfriend didn’t show any interest in volunteering at preps for the party.”

Hansol smiles, tapping on his phone, his eyes are anchored on the screen, and you narrow your expression at him, shaking your head in a scolding manner.

“And now he pretends he doesn’t hear me,” you say. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Hansol’s face brightens and broadens out into a beaming smile, and the sound of Soonyoung’s giggles fills the air.

“I’ll ask Seokmin to help you,” the older boy suggests, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

“I know you’re saying it for the best of reasons, but Seokmin rather is a distraction than a help,” you debate, and Soonyoung raises his small hands in surrender, his eyes becoming crescent-shaped due to his laugh.

“Okay, I’ll send backup,” he promises. “At the end of the day, Mingyu’s good at cooking and cleaning.”

It would’ve been hard for him not to realize he put his foot in his mouth mentioning Mingyu as the mood tensely shifts. You freeze, alike Hansol, his thumb is hovering over the phone screen for seconds. Soonyoung offers you an apologetic smile, and you smile at the boy back, reassuring him it’s okay – he really did nothing wrong. Hansol’s avoiding your questioning gaze, hiding his eyes behind his curly bangs, and you gently brush a section of his hair from his face, wanting to see him clearly.

“Are you jealous, Sollie?” you try to joke, a soft smile playing on your lips, your hand placed on his cheek. As he raises his eyes at you, nerves are evident in them, your heart sinks, and you feel breathless. He won’t ask you if he should be, he won’t make any scenes – but he may shut himself off, locking his feelings deep inside, and you fear it the most. You don’t mean to hurt him, but you’re still providing him a good amount of pain – he isn’t an idiot who can’t figure out that Mingyu’s never really left your heart.

“No,” he simply says. “I’ll help you with everything.”

“You’re a bigger distraction than Seokmin for me, but how can I say no to my sweet boyfriend?” you take his offer, your thumb is stroking his cheek, and the action soothes away the tension he has. Hansol smiles gently at you, and for a second, you’re wondering if he is as good at pretending as you are.

“How did you manage to rent this beach house?” Soonyoung asks in a pure awe. “Such places are always booked!”

“Nothing’s impossible when you love your friend,” you muse. “Besides, thank Hansol – he used his “music industry contacts” to make you happy.”

“Hey, you insult me using air quotes around ‘music industry contacts’,” Hansol slides his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him, and places a quick peck on the tip of your nose. You stab him in the chest with your index finger, and he fakes a gasp.

“Eavesdropping?” you ask.

“Learning a lot about me,” he grins and draws his attention to the birthday boy. “Like the party?”

“No shit,” Soonyoung laughs. “I’ll like it better if you dance with me,” he says your name, his eyes sparkle brighter than colorful lights blasting through the house.

“Anything for a five stars rate.”

You’re out of breath, the clothes stick to your covered in sweat body, and you wince.

“I’m done,” you announce to Soonyoung, his batteries fully charged as he continues his active dance.

“Get some fresh air and come back!” he yells over the music, and you nod. Crossing the room to the back porch, you spot Hansol in the corner, talking to Joshua and showing the older boy something on his phone screen. Unnoticed, you go directly to the shore until the music of the party drowns in the sound waves, and inhale warm salty air. The water seems so tempting, calling you to step into the waves, their rhythm is hypnotizing you, and you kick your shoes off, perfectly understand the night water is too cold for swimming.

A familiar voice stops you, calling your name. You turn around, greeted with Mingyu’s tall figure, shining like a bronze statue, his tanned skin sheens magical when graced by the evening sun.

“Why do you always tend to sneak out?” he asks, once he made it up to you, a warm smile already crept onto his mouth as he saw you.

“I don’t know, maybe I just like being in crowds,” you shrug your shoulders – it’s true. You really don’t know the answer. He moves closer to you, and you finally spot a small bouquet in his hand. His eyes follow yours, and he chuckles.

“It’s for you,” he shyly passes you the flowers, his teeth press into his bottom lips. “I passed by those wildflowers on my way here and picked them for you.”

“It’s not my birthday,” you laugh. “But thank you, I love it,” you say, nuzzling your nose against the tender petals. You look up at the boy and lock your eyes with his, a tickling feeling spreading in your chest. The waves are lapping on the peaceful and quiet shore, but you feel electricity surging through your body. You stand on your tiptoes and place a delicate kiss on his soft cheek, the action is innocent, but for Mingyu it’s like hearing a starting whistle.

“You’re still in my thoughts,” he breathes. “Still here,” he reaches over to grab your hand and place it over his chest, and through your fingertips you’re able to feel his rapid heart. Tears are starting to form at the rim of your eyes, and your vision becomes blurred. Your fingers crawl into the flowers he gave you, pressing against the vulnerable stems. “It’s egoistic, I know, you’re dating my friend, your soulmate, but why does it feel like you’re mine?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. The next second you find yourself against his firm chest and you inhale his scent that feels like home. Not a place where you live, but home. He plants a kiss to the crown of your head and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Look at me,” the golden boy suddenly says. “Please.”

You look up at him and see his eyes briefly dropping to your lips, and despite yourself you feel that familiar tingling in your gut, wanting him to kiss you. He reads you like an open book and he is kissing you, his lips softly press against yours, a tender flavor on your tongue.

“Mingyu,” you whisper in a small voice, pulling out from him. “I can’t. I can’t do this to Hansol.”

The boy looks at you with a pained expression, and in his eyes you can see that he wishes he didn’t have a heart at all.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters, and you nod your head, your heart is swelling at the nickname.

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

You lock yourself up in the bathroom, hoping no one saw your state while you were hurrying upstairs. Suddenly, someone tries the handle, but it jingles with no success.

“It’s occupied!” you try your best to sound calm, but your voice is trembling.

“It’s me,” Hansol’s muffled voice leaks through the door. “Let me in.”

You turn the lock and face Hansol, your eyes are all red and watery from crying. The boy locks the door behind him and turns to face you, his piercing eyes burn right into your soul.

“You love him,” he says, too delicate to torture you with questions, and you feel even worse – if it’s possible – paralyzed with fear and regrets, guilt eating you inside out, and you swallow the lump in your throat. You let out a wet sob, not being able to look into his sad eyes.

You broke his heart.

“I’m sorry, Sol,” you say, feeling powerless, loss for words to say to him, to explain yourself, to apologize. “I don’t know what should I do. I don’t know what should we do.”

“If he makes you happier than I could,” he looks above your head. “I’ll accept it someday.”

“You don’t deserve this,” you say, feeling so stupid, only wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Maybe soulmates aren’t bond only by romantic shit,” his deep voice comes to you through the mist. You don’t ask him to give you a chance, don’t change his mind – maybe this painful reveal of the truth will make your heart feel a little bit lighter one day, even if right now you’re sure this is never going to happen.

You don’t complain and do not want pity from anyone – you’re sick and tired of Soonyoung tiptoeing around you, trying to keep you from collapsing; of the silent treatment Seungkwan gives you, scornful looks he spares you every single time you see him get you to another level of anger; of a constant scratching sense of guilt you’ve been racked with since your break-up with Hansol, but somehow he never blames you even if he should; of Momo dragging you to the shop malls and making you keep shopping until you cheer up.

Of you can’t getting up the nerve to answer any of Mingyu’s calls, too afraid of something you can’t even describe.

Momo’s straight face catches you off guard, and you only gasp,

“He what?! No, no, no,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re making this up.”

“What for?” the girl rolls her eyes back deep into their sockets. “Mingyu invited you to his picnic party or whatever through me cause you’re too deaf to pick up your phone, nothing special.”

“Will you come with me?” your eyes meet hers in the bathroom mirror, your expression makes Momo give you her infamous crinkly-eyed smile.

“He didn’t ask me to come – only you,” she purrs, taking her lip gloss out of the small bag. “He’s so fucking in love with you, you little witch.”

“I-” you stutter, the crimson red blush spreads across your cheeks, and Momo laughs and gives you a playful shove.

“Don’t you dare to say no,” she warns. “You’ll deal with me.”

“What would I do without you, Momo?” you smile at her. Even if you asked playfully, you really mean it – and the warmth in your chest proves it.

Mingyu seems nervous as he clumsy steps into your apartment, his chest is tensed with the breath he holds. The boy is dressed in a loose white t-shirt and high-wasted velvety pants, and you sigh in relief – the picnic party - as Momo called it - obviously wasn’t planned as something fancy.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you smile.

“Thanks for coming. Means a world,” he says, poking his cheek with his tongue, a shy smile follows his words. You missed him. Missed everything about him – the small giggles he lets while talking with that slight lisp to you, the shake of his head when he can’t understand something, the pout appearing on his plump lips when he realizes the item he wanted to buy is out of stock, the bright smile beaming on his face while he spills out his ideas for photography, the warmth of his palm holding yours in the pocket of his woolen coat.

“Who else is gonna be there?” you ask during your drive to the beach – Mingyu found the place perfect for a picnic, especially in the hot summer.

“Um,” he hesitates for a moment, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you. “It’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” you breath. “I see. Momo didn’t tell me.”

“Blame yourself for leaving me on read,” he grins obnoxiously and you roll your eyes defensively. “Now you’re stuck with me. I forgot to mention one thing, though.”

“Which one?” you rake your eyes over him, admiring how the sun’s rays paint his skin in a golden glitter. “It’s a date.”

You dig your toes into the cool sand, glancing into the evening sky. Mingyu follows your eyeline.

“You can’t see the stars for reflected light from the city,” you notice. “But here we have a chance.”

“No way,” Mingyu protests. “And you know why?”

“Why so?” you turn your face to him, a big smile spread on his lips.

“All Seoul’s stars are in your eyes,” he is smiling so wide that his cheeks must have hurt and he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you, tugging you into his lap.

“Shut up,” you laugh, smacking him on the chest, your fingers touching the soft fabric of his shirt. Mingyu’s lips are ghosting over your cheek for a moment before he speaks again,

“But I have lots of things to say,” Mingyu murmurs, biting softly at your earlobe, and a very familiar feeling creeps up into the pit of your stomach.

“Like what?”

“Like, let’s swim,” he takes you aback with the suggestion and you blink at him dumbly. “I didn’t bring my swimsuit with me,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “We’re alone here. No one’ll see.”

You push up from his body and meet his eyes glossy with playfulness and challenge, and you nod at his words. Mingyu grinning at you mischievously, while he removes his clothes – his shirt and pants find their place at the sand – as you see each piece of his skin revealing itself. You inhale deeply, and he leans his head closer to yours, the warm palms rubbing up and down your arms.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and you’re surprised he can tell this just from your body language, and it makes your heart flutter, pounding even faster against your ribcage. His words encourage you, and he silently watches you removing your dress, the only pieces of clothing on your skin are your bra and panties. Mingyu gently squeezes your hand, his thumb softly strokes back and forth over your knuckles. “Catch me.”

And within a couple of seconds, he is already pushing into the water, everything below his waist out of sight. You slowly step onto the sparkling waves, a lazy smile playing on your lips, as you see Mingyu splashing over to you with a childish pout on his face.

“You’re supposed to catch me, but you don’t even try,” he whines and steps closer to you, pressing his hands to either sides of your neck, his thumb rubbing the hollow of your throat. He looks dreamlike with his skin stick from the water, making him glisten in the soft evening light.

“It’s not the only thing I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I was born to live without you, remember?” you whisper against his wet lips as he leans over you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he hums, letting his fingers brush against the words inked on your side. “I don’t need to be told who I love.”

You’d been feeling like you were drowning for too long, drowning in the cool water of sorrows, doubts, and self-destruction for too long, but only now you can breathe -

“You love me?” you say in a quiet voice, almost as if it was a secret, and the soft look on his face makes your heart skip a beat, overflowing with love and affection.

“I do. So I ask you to stay with me,” he pleads. Not just for tonight, not for tomorrow morning, but-

“Take me home.”

Rattling keys, the sound of giggles stopped with the kisses, Mingyu’s hot mouth on your pulse point, your hands tugging at his black silk locks, and the heavy weight of the wall meets your back.

“Right in the corridor?” you hum, panting into his ear. “Where is your decency, Kim Mingyu? Not bringing your lady to the bedroom is-” Mingyu doesn’t let you finish, forcing his leg between yours. He is grinning at you with his bottom lip between his teeth as he guides your hips into motion against his thigh, satisfied with the garbled moan ripped from your throat. Bringing his lips to the side of your neck again, Mingyu plants wet kisses on the soft skin. He licks your ear, gently tugging the lobe between his teeth. When the boy releases the tender flesh, he hisses,

“This… you made me forget about my good manners,” Mingyu drawls and attaches his lips to your throat. His voice is sweet, but the material of his pants is rough and the combination drives you crazy, whimpering into the air between you, your clit aching.

“Please,” you whine, grinding yourself harder against him.

Suddenly, Mingyu smiles, brightly and happy, before his lips press into yours, his tongue mapping your mouth. The boy lifts you up and it gives you an opportunity to kiss his neck in return, biting red marks into his tanned skin. Then, ever so carefully, Mingyu places you on the soft surface of the bed, kissing you passionately, but slower, trying to find out what you like the most.

“Can I take your clothes off, please?” he whispers in your mouth and you moan, your hands gripping into his biceps.

“Good manners are back,” you coo. “Go ahead.”

Mingyu helps you to sit up, undoing the upper buttons of your summer dress, kissing the skin it exposes, and finally pulling it over your head.

“Don’t forget to take the rest off too,” you breathe, and his lips stretch into a smile. His arms twist behind your back and then he is sliding the fabric down your arms and tossing it away.

“Do you want me to touch you, princess?” Mingyu murmurs, the tip of his nose traces the side of your neck as his fingers are ghosting over the wetness of your panties.

“Like you don’t know the answer already,” you hiss and he chuckles, his hands move to palm your breasts. You bite your lower lip when he rolls your nipple between his fingers before slowly circling it, a blush slowly creeps down your neck. His mouth finally covers your nipple as his warm palms are parting your thighs, his fingers firmly pressed against the skin. Without being told, you rise your hips to help him remove your soaked panties.

Mingyu sits back on his haunches and marvel at your spread thighs and the pretty wet curves, and your legs separate to make room for him beyond your control.

“You’re so pretty,” he admires, his eyes – glassy with desire and adoration – don’t leave your face. His palm slides up from your hip over your stomach and further still, gently cupping your breast.

“Gyu,” you plea, but before you can even think about the words, Mingyu tosses his shirt somewhere behind his back, already yanked his slightly ruined with your wetness pants and the underwear to the floor.

Then, he is putting his fore and middle fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before slowly bringing them to your pussy, the pads of his fingers ghosting over your slit. You moan and he takes it as an invitation, drawing a circle around the hood of your clit. Craving for more, you shamelessly grind your hips into his palm, your fingers grasping at the sheets.

“Baby, I want to taste you so bad,” Mingyu purrs, thrusting his fingers into your pussy down to the knuckles. You moan at the sensation of his fingertips dragging against your pulsing walls, and he increases the pace of his digits inside of you. “You smell so good.”

His words only sending you near delirious. But his tongue feels even better.

Mingyu runs the flat of his tongue up to your clit, humming happily at the moan escaped through your red and swollen lips, your fingers tangled in his hair. His grip on your thighs is firm, screaming lust in big neon letters. He sucks on your clit, focusing his hot mouth on the swollen bundle of nerves, as he is pulling and pushing his fingers through your entrance.

The boy groans deeply, nuzzling his pretty face deeper into your core. The delightful pleasure clings to your stomach, swells at you abdomen. Your eyes screw shut and your chest heaves, the back arching off the bed with a high-pitched cry. Mingyu is leaning over your, adjusting his body on his elbows supporting him either side of your body. His breath is tickling the skin of your neck and you giggle, your hand lazily draws some patterns onto his back. The boy silently observes your features while you reach down to his cock, lubricating it with his pre-cum. Mingyu groans, but you swallow the sound with your mouth, your tongue catching on flesh of his mouth that tastes like you. He is desperately grinding against your stomach, the tip of his dick leaving a wet trail over your skin.

“I love you,” he says against your lips and, slowly and carefully, positions the reddened head to your entrance. You wrap your legs around him, heels pressing into the ample swells of his ass as Mingyu buries himself deep inside you. He presses his teeth on your collarbone as he hitting your sweet spot with every single one of his delicious thrusts.

Mingyu is here – his arms caging your face, his mouth never leaves yours, and his chest is pressed tight against yours – Mingyu is here and you love each other.

He rolls his hips against you, sinking his cock into your heat, his fingers toying with your sensitive clit. Suddenly, he speeds up, pulling an extremely loud moan from you. Feeling you clench around him, Mingyu groans and lowers himself to suck on your nipple, muffling the sounds he makes against your skin.

“Let it go,” he pants out and you oblige, a gasp tumbles from your lips as your fingers curling in his hair. Your walls spasm around his cock, enveloping it with your release. He thrusts in you, his cock twitching inside of you before he lets out a drawn moan. He stills in you as his cock milking your pussy, panting loudly. He opens his dark eyes and his face softens for you as he places a gentle kiss on the side of your jaw.

“We weren’t meant for each other,” you whisper, your hand playing with his damp locks. “But I love you more than anything.”

“We are meant for each other,” Mingyu is persistent. “Since our first meeting.”

“Okay,” you give in.

“I win,” his smile is radiant in the night, and his eyes hold the whole universe in them.

You never thought of you as a rule breaker. No one did.

With each day Mingyu helps you realize you shape the universe you live in.

And you ask him to make your nose look smaller at the portrait of you he have been painting for two weeks already.

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alt-rose · 3 years

Text

take a break | colson baker

colson baker imagine

take a break - you’re studying for the MCAT, and he reminds you of the importance of selfcare.

warnings: none? language? school stress?

it wasn’t unusual for Colson’s living room to be a mess. from all the ragers that he’s thrown to the guys’ weekly get together, the living room was bound to be trashed. empty bottles and glasses usually littered every surface with rolling papers and ash spread thoroughly in between.

however, the mess that currently inhabited the living room was not Colson or the guys’ doing. it was yours. you had taken over the living room, claiming it as your study zone.

you were currently studying for the MCAT, which you were taking in a few weeks. Colson had been so supportive when you decided to visit him during the important time in your academic career, and you were only asking for a few hours a day to yourself so that you could study for your upcoming test. you promised that you would spend the rest of your time with him since you were spending your spring break camped out at his place and would eventually need to head back to school.

he was so proud of you, and he was incredibly impressed with your work ethic. applying to medical school was not an easy feat, and you had worked your ass off to get to where you are today, which is something that he could relate to.

so, Colson let you trash his living room. he had banished the guys from his house for the duration of your break (or at least, kept them out of your study zone), and he even cleared out when you had planned to study, usually spending his time in the studio working on his next album.

when he was gone, you spent your day drowning in study guides and practice tests. your papers were sprawled out on the living room floor as you used the coffee table as your desk. you had pens and highlighters buried within the mess. you had your textbooks cracked open to whatever page that you had frantically flipped to when you couldn’t remember something. mugs with day-old coffee and empty fruit snack pouches were abandoned on the end tables by the couch.

it was safe to say that you absolutely destroyed his living room.

“I’m going to head to the studio for a few hours.”

peering up from your place on the floor, you watched as Colson zipped up his jacket and shoved his wallet and keys into his pockets.

“text me if you need anything?” he suggested before making his way over to you, leaning down to plant a kiss on the top of your head.

“sure,” you murmur before pulling him down to kiss his cheek.

“don’t study too hard,” he joked, earning a stressed laugh from you.

the both of you knew that asking you not to study hard was like asking you not to breathe. both are necessary for your survival.

after he left, you decided to use the silence to your advantage, and you began to take another practice exam. that exam then turned into taking another exam when you didn’t score as well as you had hoped, and then you were spiraling.

you scoured your study guides and notes to review the material you had missed. your eyes were burning from the strain, and your head was beginning to pound. you were digging yourself a hole in your insecurities. you had broken down into tears twice now from the stress. you were dizzy and nauseous from forgetting to eat; not that you really had the stomach for it right now anyway. you don’t even remember the last time you got up to use the bathroom.

when Colson came home after 9 hours at the studio, he found you in the same position that you were in when he left. you were hunched over your books. your blue light glasses had slid down your nose, and your hair was a mess. leaving you to finish whatever you were working on, he made his way to the kitchen to clean up whatever mess that you had left him, only to find that there were no dishes in the sink. the kitchen hadn’t been touched since that morning.

“hey,” he began as he made his way back to the living room. “did you eat anything today?”

you only hummed a response as you flipped through one of your notebooks, completely ignoring him. finding what you were looking for, you jotted a note down on one of your study guides.

“hey,” Colson tried to get your attention once more as he took a seat on the floor across the table from you. he watched your eyes flick up to him briefly before they directed their attention back to the work in front of you. “dude.”

“Col, give me a minute to finish this up, and I’ll talk to you then,” you snap at him as you take a few more notes.

Colson let out a sigh as he watched you go back and forth from your notebook to your textbook. he chose to sit and scroll through twitter while he waited for you to finish, but after 20 minutes had passed, he knew that you weren’t going to stop anytime soon.

“jesus,” he muttered to himself as he put his phone down on top of some of your papers on the table. “have you taken a break at all today? have you eaten? looked out a window?”

you scoffed at him.

“I don’t have time for breaks, Colson,” you said coldly. “I have to study because I have to take this test in a few weeks – a test, might I add, that will define my future – and I am not even remotely prepared for it. my practice scores are decreasing. I can’t remember any of this material. my notes are shit. and, I am going to fucking fail, which means I am not going to get into medical school, and all of my years of working my ass off in school will mean absolutely nothing. I cannot just take a break when I have everything at stake here.”

you both took a beat. you were taken aback by your sudden outburst. yeah, you meant every word of it, but you hadn’t meant for it to come out so harshly. and, you definitely didn’t mean to snap at Colson, who had been so supportive of your goals from the beginning. he was kind of shocked by your snappy attitude.

“I understand,” he broke the silence. “I understand that you are really stressed, and I know that you have a lot of pressure on you. I just want to help, and I think taking an hour to eat and do something other than tear apart your notes would help.” he gently placed his hand on top of yours. “it’s late. I’m tired. you have to be tired. let’s call it a night. I’ll make you something to eat, and then you can turn your brain off for a few hours. killing yourself over this work won’t improve your scores-”

“Colson,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away from him. “I just need to review a bit more.”

“no,” he said sternly. “you need to rest. self-care and all that shit is just as important as studying.” he stood up from his spot on the floor, now towering over you. “come on, get up.” you gave him an annoyed look, practically telling him to F off. “no, come on, don’t give that shit. get up.”

he moved to your side of the table, and he pulled you up from the floor, despite your protests. to keep you from running back to your work, he threw you over his shoulder, and you yelped from surprise.

“put me down,” you whine, pounding your fists on his back. “you’re being a jerk.”

Colson carried you up the stairs toward his bedroom before finally setting you down in his ensuite. you landed on your feet quite ungracefully, only for Colson to pick you back up to place you on the counter. the two of you stared at each other for a moment. you glared while Colson silently challenged you to make a run for it.

he raised an eyebrow at you once he was sure you would stay before turning to the bathtub. he turned the water on and waited for it to heat up before stopping the drain.

when he finally turned back to you, he found you slumped over with your eyes fixated on the floor, as if you were trying to micro nap while you waited. he suddenly felt less confident in leaving you to take a relaxing bath alone while he fixed you up something to eat, now knowing that you were on the verge of sleep.

gently placing a hand on your cheek, he moved to hold you close while the tub began to fill. he rested his chin on the top of your head while you tucked yourself into his chest.

“was gonna leave you to take a bath, but I don’t want to leave you to drown in the tub if you’re going to fall asleep on me,” he murmured into your hair.

you let out a tired (and slightly loopy) laugh.

“you might have to join me,” you murmur into his shoulder.

“okay.”

with that, he moved to pull out two towels and dropped some fancy bath salts into the tub before finally moving to help you off the counter. he helped you slip out of your clothes before moving to undress himself, and then the two of you climbed into the tub together.

you sat with your back resting against his chest, and your head was resting against his shoulder. he let you close your eyes for a few minutes, allowing you to take a small nap. while you laid against him with your eyes closed, he gently ran a soapy washcloth against your skin to wipe away the fact that you hadn’t showered in at least two days.

“still with me?” Colson hummed lightly.

you nodded against his chest.

“do you want me to wash your hair?”

“yes, please.”

Colson’s heart melted at how small your voice sounded. wordlessly, he gently moved you forward so that he could rinse and wash your hair with the detachable showerhead. you rested between his knees while he ran his hands through your hair. you were seconds from falling asleep, his motions slowly luring you to sleep. once he was finished with you, he let you rest your head against his propped-up knee while he quickly rinsed and washed himself.

he watched you carefully as he moved to unplug the drain and to hang up the showerhead before gently running a hand over your cheek. you opened your eyes at his touch.

“ready to get out?” he asked softly, only receiving a sleepy nod from you.

he got out first, quickly wrapping a towel around his waist before holding your towel out for you. you stepped into the towel and let him wrap you up. after taking a minute to dry off, Colson grabbed the robe he got for you the last time you came to visit, and he wrapped it around you after taking your towel to expertly wrap your wet hair up in it.

you sat on the bathroom counter, slowly doing your skin care routine while he took a moment to dry himself off and put on a pair of boxers.

“you okay if I go fix you up something to eat?” Colson asked from the doorway, watching you apply your moisturizer.

“I’m okay,” you give him a small smile. “thanks, Cols.”

once you were finished, you dragged yourself to his bed, still wrapped in your robe with no motivation to put your pajamas on. you curled up against the pillows, letting yourself rest your eyes for a moment, while you waited for Colson.

“I made you a sandwich.”

you opened your eyes to find Colson kneeling on the bed next to you with a plate in his hand. you move to sit up to let him lean against the pillows next to you.

“you’re a saint,” you laugh lightly as you lean into his side.

“hardly a saint,” he laughed back at you as he handed you half of your sandwich while he grabbed half of his.

“a god?” you suggest taking the sandwich from him.

“maybe.” he raised his slice to you. “cheers.”

“cheers,” you laugh as you bump your sandwich against his. you took a moment to take your first bite. “oooo,” you call to him covering you mouth as you finish your bite. “you’re an angel. that’s what you are?”

“alright, you noob, knock it off,” he smiled at you. “if anyone’s an angel here, it’s you.”

“yeah, yeah, okay, you sap,” you nod back him before taking a bite.

the two of you let a comfortable silence fall over you as you finished your sandwiches. once you were both finished, Colson placed the plate on his nightstand before turning his attention back to you, only to find you already tucked under the covers. following you, he slipped under the covers before situating himself comfortably on his pillows. he pulled you into his chest, and you rested your head on his chest.

“thank you,” you murmur.

“for what?” he lightly stroked your damp hair.

“you always take care of me. I love you for that.”

“I’ll always take care of my girl.”

you lightly ran a hand up his arm, tracing his tattoos.

“you’re going to be a great doctor one day-”

“Cols,” you sigh with a defeated feeling sinking into your chest.

“I mean it,” he told you. “you’re so smart, and I know this is a really stressful time for you, and it’s really difficult for you, but I know you’re going to do great on your test. you’ve been studying nonstop for weeks. you know you’re prepared, and I know it may not feel like it because you’ve been taking so many practice tests and stuff, but I think a break would do you some good. you need a fresh start. get out of your head for a bit, you know? take a day to get out and have fun, and then you can go back to studying for the rest of the break.”

“Cols.”

“spend the day with me tomorrow. we can go to the beach, or we can go hiking, or shopping, or anything you want to do. let me get you out of this house.”

you let out a sigh, taking a moment to think. he wasn’t wrong. you needed to get out, and you needed a break.

“okay,” you sigh into his chest.

“good,” he smiled to himself as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. “now sleep.”

“don’t have to tell me twice,” you laugh lightly before nuzzling yourself into his chest so that you weren’t putting any strain on your neck. he reached a hand up and turned off the lamp, and darkness fell on both of you. “hey Cols?”

“hmmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, (Y/N/N).”

hope you enjoyed! i took a break from some schoolwork to finish this piece. college is hard, my dudes. feel free to send requests! - rose xx

#colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker imagines #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly imagines #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader

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paperpocalypse · 3 years

Text

duty.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 13. Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Aristocrat!Reader

Word Count: 2,407 words

Warning: Wonky and inaccurate aristocrat/rich people politics and marrying young because of it, please bear with me

[A/N: No powers!Historical!AU]

The elegance of the Hargreeves estate is of the dark, academic sort – polished, reserved, all sharp lines and dim lighting and old books – and you’d feel quite intimidated by it if you were any less acquainted with its occupants. You and your sister always look out of place when you visit, bright splotches of summer color roaming the narrow, perpetually autumnal hallways; and when congregating with the siblings in the library or outside, any visitor could glance at your merry group and immediately tell apart the hosts and the guests.

It’s all a reflection of your respective parents, really – if you had any say in how you presented yourself, it certainly wouldn’t be in the vivid, youthful hues of your mother’s choosing, and you’re sure that some of the others have similar sentiments.

Because while your family and Five’s family are certainly different in some ways, their respective heads are both pretty damn suffocating.

“Looks like it’s a draw.”

You grunt, displeased, and collapse back in your chair, bundling up in your blanket. “Can’t take a loss, can you, Five?”

“Not if I can help it,” he answers. His frown and crossed arms speak to his dissatisfaction with the result; losing is never an option, but clear-cut victories are always better than a draw. “Want to play again?”

The suggestion is tempting. Very tempting. You reach out and pick up your king, feeling the cold, smooth marble against the pads of your fingertips, and purse your lips in thought. Your eyes flick up briefly to meet Five’s.

Oh.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you finally say, putting the piece down. “I’m getting a bit tired.”

Five studies you for a moment, head tilting in that particular, scrutinizing way of his. Then his expression smooths out and he nods.

After putting the pieces back into place, the two of you exit the warmth of the library and head towards the guest wing. The walk is silent; you keep your borrowed blanket wrapped snugly around your shoulders, the bottom dragging across the perfect, wooden floor as you look at the paintings hung along the wall. They’re landscapes, mostly – of dark green forests; cold, still oceans; blue-grey mountains shrouded in mist. Impersonal and very fitting for the tastes of Five’s father, that’s for sure.

When you reach your room, you smile at your companion, and it feels unnaturally polite. “Well, goodnight, Five.”

“Goodnight.”

The boy turns and strolls back down the hallway, and you wait until he disappears around the corner, chewing on your bottom lip, before pushing the door open to enter your room.

“You two are duller than an ashtray. 'Goodnight’?”

“Sh –” you bite back an expletive, whipping around to glare at the intruder on your bed. “Lila, go back to your own room!”

Your sister just stares at you from her upside-down position, arms and legs splayed out as she smiles. “You still haven’t talked about it, have you?”

“We don’t need to,” you snap back quietly, closing the door as quickly as you can without slamming it. “He understands it as well as you and I do.”

“You realize Mum never said you’ll have to marry the guy.”

“Of course not; she just strongly suggested it.”

“Still not an order.”

Her flippancy causes you to glare. “Lord Harold is rich and he’s willing –"

“He’s a massive creep,” she interrupts, giving you an incredulous look. “And you just came of age, [Y/n]. You’ll be miserable.”

“I can get it annulled after five years, remember?”

“You’re really going to last for five years?”

She’s trying to pull something out of you, you know it. You try to maintain your composure.

“A massive debt isn’t going to just disappear,” you repeat. “It was either him or Lady Helen, and Helen got betrothed last month. Harold’s the quickest way to fix it, in case you forgot.”

“And in case you forgot, it’s literally not your problem. Stop making a martyr of yourself when you don’t have to.” Lila sits up and swivels around to face you, crossing her legs. Her expression is expectant. “I’ll figure something out, so don’t throw a fit, alright? The debt’s going to be mine along with the estate. You can afford to disappoint Mum for once in your life.”

Your brow furrows. “Lila –”

“If you keep arguing, I’m going to smother you with a pillow,” she says. “Either you agree with me, or you tell your future love affair that you’re marrying a human toad in the spring.”

“Future lo – it’s not like that! We’re friends!”

Lila holds your indignant gaze. Then, with practiced, unladylike ease, she hops off your bed, puts her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows at you.

“You have the worst case of denial I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” she says.

“I’m being completely honest,” you retort hotly. And you are. You and Five are friends, and although the nature of your relationship is admittedly more comfortable than any other friendship you’ve had over the years, nothing between you and Five had ever been non-platonic.

(Not that you would mind something non-platonic – but as you’ve reiterated to Lila many, many times, you’re just as content being friends. Having a genuine, close companion in your world is rare, and you’re tired of everyone deciding what you and Five should be when the two of you are more than capable of figuring it out for yourselves.)

“Why do you care, anyway? Everything will be easier for you if I marry Harold.”

“And more miserable for you.” She lets her arms fall to her sides. “Look, I’m the oldest, so I’m supposed to be the miserable one, not you. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t marry Harold. Give yourself more time to grow up.”

You don’t know what to say.

Seemingly finished with her piece, Lila smiles before brushing past you, nudging your blanket to the side on her way to the door. You glance away when she looks over her shoulder at you.

“Sleep on it.”

… You do, though it’s a lot less sleep than you’d hoped.

—

The next morning is slow and lazy. It’s a good thing in your opinion, because as mentioned before, you had spent a great deal of the night thinking about what your sister had said, and your head feels quite foggy as a result. A cup of tea and a horse ride with everyone outside in the snow both help somewhat over the course of the day. However, by the time the sky begins to darken, you’re back in your room to take a nap before supper, and quickly return thereafter.

When you hear three quick raps on your door, you groan and drag yourself out of bed.

“Lila,” you grumble as you turn the knob and pull, “can’t you go bother Diego instead –”

You swallow your words when you see your actual visitor. Five gives you a brief, tight-lipped smile.

“Mind if I come in?”

“Uh,” you respond intelligently, then shake your head and step to the side, remembering your manners. “Of course.”

Five walks in and heads towards the window. You go to the couch nearby and sit down, slightly perplexed as he finds an interest in the candle burning on the sill – he’s welcome to hang around in here, certainly, but the two of you usually convene in his room or the library. The guest room doesn’t have much to offer in terms of entertainment.

In due time, the boy turns away from the frost-covered window and joins you on the couch.

“Your sister said you weren’t feeling well,” is all he says.

So that’s why he’s here. Shrugging, you put your hands in your lap, fiddling with the family ring on your middle finger. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

Your lackluster explanation isn’t enough, if his short, replying hum is anything to go by. Five leans forward, folding his hands and resting his chin on them. And what else? he seems to say.

“It’s … It’s just been a busy year, with Lila and me coming of age and all. More responsibilities and expectations, and all that,” you eventually continue, staring down at the thick, luxurious carpet at your feet. “Though I don’t have much of a right to complain. Lila’s bearing most of the pressure, since she’s the heir apparent …”

“She doesn’t seem too bothered,” Five points out, tone bland.

You allow yourself to grin. “Because we’re on vacation. Five, if you saw Lila this summer, you would’ve seen how hard she’s been working.” Not to mention all of the proposals that she had so graciously shot down, on account of her veto power and general distaste for marriage. “Honestly, the two of you have a lot in common and I don’t know why you butt heads so often.”

“I have my reasons.”

At that cryptic snark, you reach out and gain purchase on his hair, ruffling it in righteous revenge. Five grunts half-heartedly, elbowing you away. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth and you almost feel like this conversation is going to be normal – that is, as normal as it gets with a Hargreeves.

(His hair is very soft. You feel bad for messing it up, so you attempt to smooth it back into its original state; about a minute into that attempt you realize what you’re actually doing and withdraw. You shouldn’t be so improper.)

Do you have to do this?

You decide to pay the piper before you can talk yourself out of it. “You know,” you say when the joviality fades, “she’s the one who suggested that I talk to you. About my possible betrothal.”

Five’s expression flattens. He looks straight ahead again, resting his elbows on his knees. “What is there to talk about?”

“Well, you’re my closest friend and one of the smartest people I know, so I ought to ask for your opinion on the possibility of …” You reconsider for one final moment, then inhale deeply and let it out. “Of me refusing Lord Harold’s offer.”

To your slight surprise, Five nods.

“Did you talk to your mother about it?” he questions.

“Not yet,” you murmur. “To be honest, I’ve been thinking about it for months, but I only started seriously considering it last night. And now I really don’t want to marry Lord Harold. He unsettles me and I’m not ready.”

He frowns. “Neither of them is going to accept that as a reason.”

“I know.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “They’ll kick up a fuss over finances and it’ll be a bit of a scandal. That’s why I’m asking for your advice.”

Being the pragmatist that he is, you had thought that Five would be more averse to your plan. He himself had done things that he did not want to do in order to help his siblings, so you had assumed that despite his immediate dislike of Lord Harold since the night of your coming-of-age celebration, Five would tell you to endure a few years with the noble before disposing of him and collecting your dues. It’s the easiest way to get what you and your family needed, after all.

The fact that he’s so accepting of your decision makes you curious …

“First of all, even if he recognizes your refusal – and you’ll probably have a hard time with that, which will be an issue all on its own – your mother will try to find someone else to ship you off to,” he states, eyebrows pinched. “Preferably within the next year or so, right?”

“Yes.”

“How likely is she to push back your marriage by a few years?”

“… Not very likely,” you admit.

The boy pauses, thinking, then sits back.

“I could propose to you,” he offers, “if you’d like.”

You accidentally laugh out loud, you’re so taken aback. Five? Proposing? “Come again?”

“You heard me the first time.”

“We’re practically penniless. Would your father even give his blessing?”

He rolls his eyes. “Penniless or not, you’re an aristocrat with a title. If nothing else, Dad will accept that.”

“Neither of us want to get married.”

“And yet it’s your most realistic option thus far.” Five pins you with a serious gaze, and it finally hits you that he’s genuinely, actually asking. “Are you okay with it or not?”

“I …” You fumble over your words, staring at Five with wide eyes. “I mean, yes, I’d be okay with that, but … are you sure? You’d marry me just to get me out of another marriage?”

(Your question is not born of a doubt that he’ll go through with it. Five is a person of his word. But this is a big deal, and you’re both young, and most importantly of all, you don’t want this to be a mistake.)

“Let’s just say that I’d rather it be you than anyone else,” he mutters, shrugging softly. “This is your back-up plan, anyway. And if the marriage goes sideways, we can have it annulled after a few years and you’ll get a settlement too.”

He says it as if he’s discussing the weather. You chuckle, inexplicably reassured and amused by his bluntness. “Not even ten minutes into your proposal and you’re already thinking about an annulment? I fear for our future, Five.”

“There are worse things to be afraid of,” he replies sardonically. “Bring it up with your mom when you go back. If you can’t get out of a marriage, write me and I’ll talk to my dad.”

“Alright. You should bring Allison with you, though.”

“I suggest the same with Lila. Make it convincing.”

That won’t be too difficult. You nod, and with that, the deal seems to be sealed. Although you’re still processing what just happened, and Five is likely realizing just what he and you are potentially getting yourselves into, the two of you share a small smile nonetheless. It is hard not to.

“Thank you,” you murmur after a while.

Five glances over at your hands, then down at his. “Don't thank me yet."

"Alright, then. If you insist."

As your friend twists the steel ring on his index finger, you think to yourself, yes, you do want more time to grow up. But if the world won’t give that to you, you figure that a life with Five would be the next best thing.

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aenniesryu · 3 years

Text

tsukikage middle school exes

tsukishima kei and kageyama tobio. both in their first year of high school and are also teammates since they played in the same vb team for their school

ofc everyone is well aware of the fact that these two kind of hated each other. not that it was an obvious fact to begin with since ever from the beginning the two would constantly bicker and throwing insults at one another

however, that was it. that was the only thing everyone knows about the two. the team even had to separate the two of them when things escalated quickly just to make sure none of them will started to throw fits

no one knows the actual reason as to why they would bicker every so often. the team just thought that the two have so different perceptions towards volleyball that makes them so hard to get along with

the team did tried to help them to get along but it just ended up with them constantly at each others throat arguing about whatever it is

what the team actually didnt know is that tsukishima and kageyama once dated back then in their middle school days.

so basically the entire thing going on between those two were just them being salty because of 1) the break up and also 2) their mindset when it comes to volleyball

tsukishima and kageyama once dated before despite them not attending the same school

but, both were living in the same neighbourhood and their houses were basically next to each other making it easier for them to constantly see each other

however, that was a year ago before kageyama's family decided to move to another neighbourhood

no, the break up was not because of them moving because they would still see each other if they put more efforts in it

the break up on the other hand was because of this one major thing. it was a silly reason but nevertheless it was the thing that made them broke up and that thing is volleyball

yes, volleyball. even tho both were playing for their respective teams back in middle school, their perspective when it comes to volleyball differs too much.

kageyama being the volleyball freak he is would just spent most of his times practicing his serve. even on the weekends. tsukishima, however didnt really took it seriously when it comes to volleyball ever since it was just a club anyway, right?

with kageyama spending more and more time with his practice, tsukishima was left alone. they barely even get to meet each other because of them being in different schools and then kageyama's free time was now full with volleyball alone

tsukishima might felt a lil bit jealous since kageyama, his boyfriend at that time would constantly talked about oikawa. it's always oikawa this and oikawa that. he knows kageyama only meant no harm and hes just looking up onto his senior who plays really well.

tsukishima was fine with that. yeah, he really does because never once did he ever tell kageyama to shut up whenever he talks about oikawa.

what was not fine was that kageyama spent the only free time they had on volleyball. it was the only time that they would be able to hang out and go outside but suddenly it stopped. no more seeing each other, no more dates and no more talking to each other

yes, kageyama did tell him over and over again that he feels sorry and that he just needs to prepare himself to be the best for their team

tsukishima did understand him but as time passed by, tsukishima became selfish. well that's what he thought. hes tired of waiting. he shouldn't be blamed when all he wanted was for his boyfriend attention

then 2 months before the very important match for kageyama, tsukishima went and break things off. and just like that they are no longer boyfriends or friends

kageyama moving to another neighbourhood just make things a lil bit easier since they wont be seeing each other anymore after the break up

"What the fck was that kageyama?" Tsukishima is now in rage with his once called boyfriend. They were in the middle of a practice match where they were divided into two different teams and just to make them work along together and maybe become friends, coach ukai and daichi thought it would be the best to put them into the same group. Oh how wrong they were because now they are fight again.

"I just did what's the best for the team. All you need to do is jump a lil bit higher than usual for that toss. you are already tall enough, make sure of it for once" kageyama was surprisingly calm when he said that but only god knows how scared he felt whenever tsukishima raised his voice at him because he got irritated. it wasnt a pleasant sight to see and get into especially when tsukishima is dmn mad. like the situation they are in now.

"yes my height alone is enough and that is why, you as the setter should take in mind that I would perfectly score if you just tossed me the ball right at where my hand can reach. making me go through all the hard work just to reach that fcking ball you threw is just wasting my energy" tsukishima is really not having it. not only did kageyama sent him a high ball, hes also pissed that kageyama made him wasted his energy in jumping higher than he normally do.

"excuse me? I'm just doing what's the best for the team. I'm taking out that fcking capability that you have in you that you decides to freaking hide and toss it away, just because you think putting an effort even the slightest of it into the match is a waste of your time" now kageyama started to boiled up. he knows that tsukishima has a lot of talent when it comes to volleyball, he knows that really well. perks of being his boyfriend throughout their middle school years. well honestly kageyama thinks tsukishima is just wasting his talent with his kind of mindset.

everyone at the gym are just staring and listening to them arguing. daichi was closed to tear them apart and continue with the practice match, but before he can do that sugawara stop him. daichi was not having it but sugawara had something else in mind. he thinks that maybe them arguing this time would make the rest of the team to get a grip on what making them argue in the first place. and maybe the truth would unfold without them needing to ask tsukishima and kageyama. coach ukai seems to have the same thoughts too since he make no moves in stopping them. so the team just understands and silently look at them and wait for more.

"I dont get your obsession with drawing the team's talent or whatsoever because you ended up getting more demanding. I thought you were a setter. didnt setter usually can already feel his teammates thoughts? im here just doing what I have to do during practice and waiting for it to end like it always did but you? you just have to screw up everything. im already tired but you clearly didnt see that! just what kind of a setter who acted like a dictator and yet hes not even the leader of the team? tell me!" tsukishima yelled his frustration out. he wants this to end just so he can go back to his house and do whatever he finds interesting. and basically volleyball is not one of them.

kageyama didnt said anything after that. he felt bad and all the memories from when his old team abandoned him during a play starter clouding his mind. to make it worse he's on the verge of breaking down. his eyes are filled with tears but he held them back. hearing those things from someone you love didnt really felt the greatest.

"what? now you decided to stayed silent? why? just realizing how my words are true and theres no point in denying it? did you ever just sit back and think about how your shitty your attitude is in court? about how tired your teammates felt trying to satisfy you? this is literally the reason why your old teammate decided to abandoned you in the middle of the match. because you are so demanding and it stresses them out more than the actual game is" just when he finished saying what he needed to say, kageyama slap him. when tsukishima turn to see him, kageyama is already crying.

"YOU! out of all people in this world should know how important volleyball is to me. you should've known that theres literally nothing I can do aside from volleyball. you shouldn't have said that if you know what I went through the entire year. and then at the end? what did I get? I get abandoned. not only by my teammates but I was also abandoned by my own family. just to make things even worse, you fcking break up with me at the times when I needed you the most kei. the one person i thought that would always stay by my side. but you didn't even listen to the shit I have to tell you because you completely shut me off. I went through every single thing alone. All by myself. I practice alone, think of the best strategies for my own team on my own because I was pressured AND threatened by the coach, I came back to an empty house and freaking live alone. theres no one I can even call and relied to!! I cant even call the person I love because hes sick of me. all I ever wanted was people to appreciate my efforts even tho it's only in volleyball. I wanted YOU to be proud of me above anything else because I cant reach your level when it comes to academic. I wanted to be perfect for you and all I ever wanted was for people around me to be proud of me for the one thing I'm capable of but all I get is people abandoning me!!"

silence. theres no sound can be heard in the gym aside from kageyama's heavy breathing. everyone is just stunned with the sudden confession. not only did they just heard kageyama's biggest fear but they also heard the part where he mentioned about their break up. tsukishima and kageyama were a thing before? they were dating? since when?"

"tobio-" tsukishima breaks the silence. hes panicking but he didn't know what do to because everything is just too sudden and all he can think of is how shitty of a boyfriend he was during the time that they were dating. thats what his brain has been saying. after all never once did he ever asked how kageyama was feeling. he was indeed selfish and everything is all his fault. if only he stayed-

kageyama seems to snapped back into reality when he heard tsukishima called him by his given name. he panicked. he just spilled everything in front of the team.

"i-im sorry. I should just go home. I'm really sorry you guys have to witness such a pity side of myself" kageyama chuckled and wipe his tears. "coach, i would like to take a break from the team for the time being. again, I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I'll see you guys later" and with that kageyama walked out of the gym ignoring his teammates eyes and the calls.

"what the hell just happened" tanaka said as the argument really is tensed and they literally just heard something that is kept secret between tsukishima and kageyama.

"tsuki, you and kageyama-" yamaguchi said softly as to not add any more anger in tsukishima. after all tsukishima kind of had an anger issue.

"ugh fuck, yes we did." tsukishima sigh. theres really nothing he can do. everyone knows and they probably think its his fault anyways. but the team has the opposite thoughts than him

"I honestly dont know what to say" sugawara said to him. he really wanted to help but it's not in his power to do so. all he can do is give them advice.

"ha, no need. I already know it's my fault. you guys can blame me. I would gladly accept it"

"What? No" were the replies he get from his team members. he was clueless coz after all kageyama wouldnt turn into a tyrant if only he stayed and didnt leave.

"we didnt blame you. both of you were young that time it was just normal for you to feel he loved you less. but you two lack in communication which leads to this whole entire mess. idk what you two went through and how long you've been together, it's not my business. but, all I can say is that you two need some closure. and clearly none of you even moved on from the past. arguing with each other every other day isnt the healthiest way to cope with the break up. just please sort this out with him. hes in pain and so are you." enoshita who has been quite the entire time decided to speak up. he do got a point especially with that lack communication between tsukishima and kageyama. sooner or later he needed to settle this whole mess before it started to drag the entire team. kageyama is the regular player in their team, and even with sugawara who can replace him as a setter, kageyama really is needed in the team. hinata also needed kageyama.

"I know I'm the last person you want to hear this from.. but tsukishima please bring kageyama back to the team. I needed him. the team too. and I think you needed him too. so please, I will do whatever it takes to help get him back into the team" hinata cried out. after all they were the freaky duo. they relied more on one another.

"but didnt kageyama only asked to take a break? it's not like he would just quit" nishinoya chipped in. "indeed he said that, but we are not sure on how long would the break be. it can be days, weeks, months and even years." coach ukai reasoned.

"let's just stop here. you guys can go home now. I will cancel tomorrow's practice so please just take a good rest. We'll continue our practice on the day after that. And you tsukishima" coach ukai added and turn to look at tsukishima with a soft look. It was a rare sight to see but they know it's for the best

"yes?"

"idk what you are planning to do. whether you sort things out and talk to kageyama or you didnt do anything about it is up to you. just clear out your minds whenever you came intl practice. we already less in one member, we didnt need to lose another one"

"thank you coach!"

listen, idek what I'm doing but I'm just gonna post this even tho I know it was bad because honestly when I reread this I felt truly nothing lmao but my friend said it was good/okay idk dont really trust her but hey, the very least I can do is post this here so I can move on(?) welp, enjoy ig.

#haikyuu fic #haikyuu ships #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #tsukikage #tsukishima kei #kageyama tobio

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safekeeperscosm · 3 years

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I think the girls going their separate ways would rub a lot of people the wrong way. Because what they have gone through in Amphibia both good and bad show just how much they really mean to each other. So I think them separating would make the story kinda feel pointless.

I'm going to share something personal, but TL;DR, if they do separate, it should end on good terms where they would need some space from each other to grow for themselves, and leave those toxic traits behind. Sometimes, being around people who you know you can keep on hurting because they’ll forgive you, because they love you, is terrible for both parties. That doesn’t mean they should cut each other out of their lives entirely, if not just for a while.

If they choose to stay together, frequent therapy should be implemented and they can never be friends like they were before, their dynamics need serious progression to break out of that internalized cycle of pressure and control Sasha and Anne have around their less assertive peers or it will get worse, but hey, fights with reconciliation is exactly how you mend relationships. Gotta break things first to fix it y’know?

I was the Outcast Kid(TM) in elementary, big surprise. My first language is English and my mother tongue is Malay. When I talk to other kids it would feel awkward and they would feel I was better than them or I was just plain weird. My first best friend was from kindergarten and we found in other in the same school after she moved. She introduced me to two of her new best friends in our first year.

And they fought. All. The. Time.

But they always reconciled and remain best friends, given 3 days or a week at most. I stayed out of the fights. And I wasn't a peacemaker either. It just wasn't my business.

The library was my favourite place after eating at the canteen during recess.

I got moved to a different class the next year because of my academic performance. I became the most popular for speaking English, and yet the least popular for not talking much. I start drawing more because of the isolation as an escape from crippling loneliness that I’m apparently used to now.

One day, this one particular girl gets seated next to me and after hanging out with her she tells me I'm her best friend forever.

I never believed in best friends forever.

We made friendship bracelets, chased boys away from bullying, she cuts my hair, I talk about dinosaurs, she tells me everything.

I'm distant with my friends from my last class, but I still loved seeing my first best friend from time to time after school. I even remember introducing the two to each other.

On the third year, a new class means new seat arrangements.

I get a new best friend. Two actually, but more like a bestie-in-law.

These girls are even more aggressive. They say words I don't know and talk to boys like they're one of them. I make several new friends because of that.

My mum sends me to an after school thing for me to better study the Qur'an, and my first best friend forever is there. We still hang out.

My drawings consist of dinosaurs, and The Amazing World Of Gumball gijinkas. I start drawing constantly.

On the fourth year, I remain in the same high achieving class and the best friends in this one I'm not as close with anymore, but I was always the one to keep my relationships at arms length.

And then I met this bitch.

She comes up to me while I'm drawing, talks to me about WHAT I'm drawing, ASKS about it, and I tell her about Danny Phantom, CatDog and Winx Club.

We were seated far from each other, and whenever the teachers aren't in class she comes to my place and talks to me while I draw. What does she talk about? Harry Potter Yaoi Fanfictions with Harry/Draco. I didn't understand same sex romance, but I listen. She introduces me to 3 of her best friends, two which are sweet boys. I talk to her girl bestie-in-law about My Little Pony and Barbie. I relate to the boys about being forced to listen to her rambles about Harry/Draco, but I don’t mind.

We stay in the same class for the fifth year. I find out she's the teachers’ daughter, and that I had no idea we were in the same class since fourth grade.

No seriously we were both completely invisible towards each other's existence it was actually hilarious.

I've never kept a best friend around me this consistently for this long.

For being an underachiever, in sixth grade I was put back into the B-class. I don't remember which of my first best friends stayed and which were put in the C-class.

My new best friend stayed in the A-class, but she takes every opportunity to hang out with me. I don't understand why she would take the risk of getting into trouble every time she gets the chance.

She takes me to the back of the school to a staircase that rarely anyone uses during recess, it makes me anxious but she tells me it's fine. I was never one to voice my own opinions.

By the end of the year, after exams are done and we have a few more days to spend at school before leaving forever. We got to do those stupid things kids at 12 years old do. I confess my crush to a guy and get rejected. She confesses hers to one of her best friends and they make it work.

And after that, she confesses to me.

I was kinda dumb for being oblivious to it before but I’ve always did had the kind of feeling. I turn her down because I didn’t feel the same way, but I still wanted to be friends. We held hands on the way home.

Results came out and we had the option to go to the same high school. She was my best friend and though I would most likely be terribly pressured there despite putting my best efforts, she was desperate to keep me close for I was at least the one friend who she doesn’t have to drift apart from. All her other friends are going away because of the vastly different lives they lead.

I didn’t want to be alone either.

Everything immediately went to shit the second I started highschool.

Now I don’t wanna talk about the details of that, but the summary of it is that we were both incredibly toxic and damaging to each other in the most passive aggressive ways, both selfish and suicidal, it was mentally and emotionally exhausting. We’d go back and forth in an argument that in the end leads to nowhere. It went on like this for 3 years.

Anyways we got so much better on the fourth year and now we’re closer than I could ever imagine!! I wouldn’t change a thing and I’m glad what we went through happened the way it did and how we dealt with it.

#safe lore #that means personal tag #amphibia #speculation #yeah safe answers stuff #sorry this took so long to respond to I'm not an expert on wording but I wanted to try give this a go anyway

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amazonswin · 3 years

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Saudade: Chapter 2

Pairing: Duncan/Courtney (Total drama)

Word count: 1k

A/n: Hey guys! Sorry this took me so long, but I do plan on continuing this fic! My inbox is always open for any questions or comments!

___

The coffee shop was nearly silent, aside from the low buzz of the machines. The evening crowd consisted mainly of students dying for any burst of energy caffeine could provide. Duncan wasn’t the biggest fan of coffee. He’d have a cup here and there when he had an early shift or a bad hangover, but it definitely wasn’t a daily thing. But a coffee shop was the only neutral ground he could think of, a no pressure place to talk. At least, that's what he said to finally convince Courtney to meet him.

She sat across from him staring into her cup, occasionally using a spoon to give it a quick stir. Neither were sure of how to break the tension. There was so much to be said, but no real way to say it. Duncan had waited for this moment for years. He’d planned out an apology and spent countless hours thinking of things he wished he could tell her. Though, at this moment, it all felt wrong. Duncan had gotten into plenty of trouble before, only this time a halfhearted ‘I’m sorry’ wouldn’t fix it.

“We should probably talk, otherwise I have other things to attend to..” Courtney was the one to break the silence.

“Probably..” He agreed. God, why was this more awkward than sleeping in an overcrowded cell.

“How long have you been out of jail?” Her tone sounded more lawyer than old friend. Duncan couldn’t help but laugh. He remembered many things about Courtney; the way the sunlight hit her hair, the way she scrunched up her nose when focused, how easy it was to make her laugh. But her abruptness was something he was more than happy to forget.

“It’s been years. Don’t get me wrong, I had some issues here and there but I don’t plan on going back to jail. I’m a changed man.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe,'' Courtney teased. She really wanted to believe him, but where would she be without her doubts? Getting hurt again wasn’t something she was just going to let happen. A lot had changed since she was a 16 year old kid. “So if you're no longer a delinquent, what have you been up to?”

There was so much he wanted to tell her that he had no idea where to begin. Surely he’d stay clear of criminal offenses and failed relationships. Duncan had never been one to hide his past mistakes, but bringing those up now would definitely scare her away. He decided just to stick to the major events, short and simple.

“Well after the total drama hell and my jail sentence, I got my GED. Despite my plan to never go back to the slammer, for the first few years I got in trouble with the law.” Duncan shrugged, “What’s a man to do? That's all I knew.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow, she struggled to see the humor in a criminal record.

Duncan smirked, continuing on. How he never really thought about being an artist, the whole idea sounding lame. Then after several tattoo sessions where duncan sketched the ideas himself, the owner insisted on taking him on as an apprentice. He had even offered to pay for all the certifications. It's a great gig that he really enjoys. Plus the discounted tattoos serve some appeal. On the side he worked on fixing motorcycles. A skill he picked up in childhood, but really polished off while on parole. It came in handy when his own bike occasionally gave out on him.

“It's nothing grand, but hey I'm not complaining.”

“No, Duncan, That's great. I always knew that you could do something great, if you’d actually put your mind to it.”

“And what about you princess? You a corporate lawyer?” He joked.

“Well…yes.”

Duncan posed the question as a joke, desperately wanting some glance of her life. Though, she was rather hesitant to let him.

“After total drama made me look totally crazy, which I was completely justified for after all, I knew I was going to need to clean up my reputation. Luckily, many people liked my ambition so I was able to get recruited to this amazing academic program. I guess from there I just kept climbing. I had to.” Courtney glanced away as she continued. How she then went on to a top university, and then a top law program. She persistently assisted, and somewhat annoyed, a professor until he finally offered her an internship at his firm. After constant overstepping and taking control of her bosses' cases, they knew they had to hire her. She’d be too big of a competitor otherwise. It was clear from the beginning that she was on a fast track to making partner.

“And you have a kid?”

“Yes, I do.” Courtney coughed to clear her throat, “I’m assuming you have more tattoos then?” She looked at his tattoo covered arm, trying to shift the conversation.

“To see the rest you’d at least have to buy me a drink first” Duncan winked, “So a kid? When did that happen?”

“A while ago..”

“What are they like? A mini version of you?”

“No, not at all” She smiles, “I have a daughter, Maelie. She’s so smart, but finds it mean to be a show off about it. And she’s funny, she’ll make you laugh at anything and everything.”

He had rarely seen this side of Courtney before. She had gone on many rants, but her eyes only sparkled like this when she was truly passionate about something. There was no doubt that Maelie was the most important thing in her life. Duncan loved this side of her.

The sudden cell phone ping snapped him from his daze. Barely skimming over the message, Courtney knew she had to leave. It took barely a second for her to collect her things.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. The babysitter has to go, and I have work in the morning anyway…”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve waited 8 years to talk princess, I can wait more.” He winked, though he desperately wanted her to stay. “Hey, how old is your kid anyway?”

Courtney stayed silent before slowly exhaling.

“She’s seven.”

It took Duncan only a few seconds to realize, but by then she was gone. He quickly ran outside to try and catch her, with no luck. Courtney was gone, and he had a daughter.

#total drama #td #td courtney #td duncan #td duncney #duncney #total drama island #td fanfic #fic #total drama world tour #total drama fanfic #duncney fic

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derpyslurpy-da-derp-master · 4 years

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soooo that reddit ama am i right

ANYWAYS so I have me some theories and ideas about Alador and Odalia Blight, aka Mr. and Mrs. Blight, I think we all know by now that Odalia is a pretty shitty parent and human person (or witch person? idk) but something stuck out to me, three little factoids and comments;

1. Alador was interesting for Dana to write

2. Odalia forced Amity to dye her hair that’s naturally brown to color coordinate her kids (ew)

3. The Blight parents have more to them than what we think right now

So! This made me get on my thinking cap. It’s pretty clear at this point that Odalia is trying to basically live vicariously through her daughter and trying to make Amity a mini her, from dying her hair to match hers, (it’s way lighter than Ed and Em’s but matches Odalia’s from le flashback perfectly) Amity ending up in the same track as her which isn’t a coincidence, Even down to hairstyle though Amity’s hair ends in a ponytail instead of a bun... Honestly at that point it feels like Odalia is a lot more influential in Amity’s life, considering it’s being molded to look like hers.

But, this also raises a question, at least in my mind; how does that sit right with Alador? I mean, it’s the one kid who looked like him even a little, having his hair color, and that’s corrected and seen as wrong by Odalia? That just straight up sounds insulting, especially if he’s the head of the household.

...But something tells me he isn’t.

Why does that matter?

Well, because, and this might sound a lil crazy and correct me if there’s some glaring facts in show that I haven’t seen; something tells me that Alador isn’t as abusive as Odalia and might actually have some semblance of a relationship with their daughter that isn’t horrible, yeah he didn’t stop Odalia when she told their daughter to dump her best friend and went along with it, but, this is...

Familiar to me.

Because I had a similar home life with my dad pushing me constantly and trying to mold my brother into a mini him (didn’t work thank god) and generally was controlling and horrible, and my mom, while not being that, still went along with his choices, didn’t refute them, and sometimes chimed in out of worry of invoking his ire, at least she did for awhile. But she still was my mom, and still actually treated me like a person and with love. This could be what’s going on with the Blights, but reversed, which, honestly, would be good to put into the world because I know of plenty of people who had an abusive mom and submissive dad who went along with it.

But the biggest evidence towards this being the dynamic with the Blights outside of Dana outright stating that Alador is interesting to write aka not a cookie cutter abusive dad character is one word; Amity.

Amity, even before she met Luz and the gang, was a good person at heart. She felt guilty over hurting her teammates with the thorn vault and outright quit Grudgby over it, she was friends with Willow when they were little to the point of being best friends...

It is virtually impossible to have a good heart if you had no positive rolemodels at all when you were a kid, and if you don’t have that many you can have a harsher exterior. Weiss Schnee comes to mind in that regard actually, she and Amity shared being cold academic over achievers who felt pressure to be perfect and eventually came around due to the protagonist helping them find their best selves.

Weiss was good at heart, she just had a lot of walls guarding it. Amity was good at heart, she just had a lot of walls guarding it. Weiss grew up in a bad environment, but still had a sister who loved her and some of the staff who raised her. Amity... Has no one in her family that treats her with love or kindness, at least from what we’ve seen.

Ed and Em, even if they are generally okay siblings, were straight up going to post Amity’s diary all over the place for tattling on them, something merciless and genuinely horrible that consistently loving siblings wouldn’t do. Her mother doesn’t let her be her own person, and I feel like if the Blight Manor staff were the ones to raise her, we would’ve gotten some hints considering how much we’ve learned about Amity’s home life.

So that would leave Alador, who definitely isn’t stopping the abuse happening which isn’t okay and goes along with it, but also hasn’t, you know, physically forced his child to dye her hair and join the track he was in in high school and so much more!

I don’t know, I feel like this makes sense given Dana saying that Alador is interesting to write because a parent who loves their kids but isn’t capable and/or willing to stop their spouse from abusing them is a lot more interesting (and more realistic than you’d think) than both of Amity’s parents being puppykickers. Plus, there’s probably people out there who live in that sort of situation who need to see it happen because media always puts it the other way around, making recognizing that that’s what’s happening a lot harder.

also i just really want amity to not live in a completely loveless void where nobody loved her or showed her kindness excluding willow because A ow and B that makes no sense given her character

TLDR: The Blight parents might be evil and lesser of two evils and i’m here for it

#The Owl House #The Owl House Theory #TOH Theory #TOH Thoughts #Odalia Blight #Alador Blight #Blight Family #Original

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hurricanery · 3 years

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What’s a Soulmate?

Hi! This is my first Amelink Fic. Completely AU//Little snippets of ‘What if Link and Amelia had met at a different time in their lives?’ Also OOPS THIS IS REALLY LONG. TW: implied drug use.

_______ Atticus Lincoln is 9 years old when he discovers what a soulmate is. Not by definition exactly, but the feeling is there.

It’s a sunny afternoon in mid-august, one of the last few days of freedom before school starts up again. Few of the last chances Link will get to spend all day outside, practicing his baseball pitch with his dad.

Earlier that day, Link and his father had noticed moving trucks line up across the street. Right in front of the house where Mrs. Edelstein lived before she was put in that nursing home.

“Looks like someone’s finally moving in,” Link’s dad had said.

‘Good,’ Link had thought. No more Mrs. Edelstein and no more apples on halloween.

_______

The two are just finishing up their batting practice when a minivan pulls into the driveway of Mrs. Edelstein’s old house. A woman steps out of the driver’s side first, before chaos ensues. Both sliding doors of the minivan fly open at the same time, before a handful of young voices are heard. Link watches from afar and counts one by one as they pile out of the car.

A taller, teenaged girl and a dark-haired boy around the same age immediately sprint toward the house, the girl yelling something about ‘dibs on the biggest bedroom!’

“Nancy! Derek! Slow down!” the children’s mother yells after them. The woman sighs as two more young girls jump out of the car and start running toward the house. “Come on, Amy,” the mother speaks again. Slowly, another girl appears from the car. Immediately, Link notices the age difference between this girl and the other kids that had just disappeared into the house. She seems much closer to his age. Link is amused by her more reluctant pace, compared to her siblings. He watches as the girl’s mother begins to practically drag her toward the house.

“Why don’t you go say hi, Link? Introduce yourself?” His dad’s voice officially halts him from observing the family across the street.

Link shakes his head. “Maybe later,” he says, his gaze drifting back to the house, where he can see the children running around through the front windows.

_______

It’s a little bit after 7pm now, and Link and his dad have just finished dinner. It’s still light outside, a nice summer night, and Link wanders back outside to hopefully curve his boredom.

There’s not much to do in his backyard, at least not by himself. He feels a tug in his chest when he thinks back to earlier. The way he was completely enticed by the big, rowdy family across the street.

He wanders to the front lawn in search of his baseball mitt when he sees her. The youngest girl from earlier. She’s sitting cross-legged by herself on the sidewalk in front of her new home, focusing deeply on the pavement beneath her, sidewalk chalk in hand. Her long dark hair is pulled back into a braid, but despite that, she seems to be pushing her bangs out of her face every few seconds.

Link is a pretty shy kid and he knows that. Even a little timid. But there’s something about this girl that’s piqued his interest. He really wants to know her, and to be her friend, he thinks.

So he gains up enough courage to cross the street, not before checking both ways for cars first. He approaches the house slowly, but the girl doesn’t seem to notice his presence. Her head remains turned down, focusing on what she’s doing.

“Um hi my name is Atticus Lincoln and I live across the street,” the sentence comes out in a rush, words stringing together completely. And maybe he should have made his entrance more known, he thinks, as he watches the girl almost fall back from where she was sitting with her knees tucked underneath her.

“Shit, you scared me,” the girl gasps, blue eyes wide.

And Link is stunned. Because that is not what he expected to hear. His eyes are now just as wide as hers “Y-you’re allowed to say that?"

The girl just stares at him for a second, before something seems to click in her brain, and then she’s laughing with her head thrown back. Real, genuine laughter. The kind that Link has only seen on sitcoms, or when his aunts and uncles drink too many adult beverages at family barbecues.

He loves the sound of it. It’s making him laugh, too. "You have a funny laugh,” he tells her.

“You have a funny name,” she retorts.

“Hey,” he frowns, but it doesn’t last as he can’t help but laugh. “Well what’s your name, then?”

“Amelia.”

“Amelia?” He repeats, dumbfounded. Partly because he’s never really heard the name before. It sounds sharp. And he thinks it matches perfectly. Especially with the quick and witty words falling from her laughing mouth.

“Yeah, ya dummy. Have you never heard that name before?”

And Link, for the first time in his life, is at a loss for words. Because she is something else.

“Anyway, Atticus, do you wanna play a game?”

_______

Link is 16 years old when he discovers that high school is the bane of his existence.

Link is a decently popular kid. Apparently. A favorite student in the eyes of most teachers. A friendly face for most of his classmates. A star baseball player and a name well known in the small community. But he doesn’t always see himself the way that others do, most of the time.

He has to wear this thing called deodorant all of a sudden, sometimes his face breaks out, he is nervous almost all of the time, and on top of all that, yesterday he found out he’s the only one in his friend group who’s never kissed a girl.

He feels pressured, mostly by the fact that girls in his grade are so intimidating.

It’s friday morning and he’s running kind of late for school. But he knows that doesn’t really matter. Because as late as he is, he knows Amelia will be running even later. And he’s supposed to meet her in 2 minutes to walk to school. Like they do every day.

He wanders outside and paces the sidewalk in front of her house, waiting for her front door to swing open and for her to come barreling outside as if getting ready for school is the most hectic experience.

And like clockwork, there she is. Flying down the front steps of her porch while simultaneously shrugging on her backpack and flinging her hair up into a messy ponytail. Her face lights up as soon as she sees him, but she falters just as quick, as she almost falls facedown on the sidewalk.

“You didn’t have time to tie your shoes this morning, Ames?”

"I don’t have time for a lot of things, Link.” She rolls her eyes.

“Well maybe if you woke up on time-”

“That’s impossible.”

“Go to bed at a decent time?”

“How do you know I don’t go to bed at a decent time?” She smirks at him, a common occurrence. Link’s pulse quickens every time she pulls the mischievous grin.

He blushes before he responds. “Your bedroom is literally right across from mine. Your light is on until at least 3am.”

Amelia just giggles. That fantastic, contagious giggle that Link has heard everyday for the last 6 years.

He nods to himself, knowing fully well that Amelia’s homework routine typically takes place between midnight and 3am. He doesn’t understand how she does it. She saves everything for the last minute and yet remains to have the highest grades out of everybody. It’s like the opposite way he goes about his own academics, yet it yields the same results. Even though Amelia is far smarter than him, she has almost the opposite reputation with the teachers.

Amelia bumps her hip into his side as they walk, shaking Link from his thoughts. “You going to the party tonight?” She raises her brows at him in question.

“Probably not,” Link answers. She just laughs at him.

“We’ll see.”

_______

They both end up at the party that night. A stupid high school party. Separately, that is. Because despite how close Amelia and Link are, they have very different friend groups. Link’s friend group is mostly made up of the baseball team, while Amelia tends to flock towards a tougher crowd.

So they arrive separately, but as soon as they lock eyes in the crowded basement, they’re practically running toward each other.

“Link!!!” Amelia yells, a little too loudly, unlike her. “I’m soooo glad you’re here.” She smiles at him, but her eyes are unfocused.

“Amelia are you drunk already?” Link laughs. Amelia’s usually a pretty happy drunk. At least the times that Link has seen her this way.

She nods her head around enthusiastically. “That I am,” she giggles. “Lemme find you a drink okay?”

_______

A couple hours later and Link’s ready to leave. He’s not drunk, just a little tipsy. And he’s not really feeling like being here anymore. He looks around the room to see if Amelia is still here. But he can’t seem to find her. He shrugs it off and says his goodbyes before making his way outside to walk home.

When he reaches the front porch he halts. Because there’s Amelia. Sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest on the front steps, gazing forward as if she’s thinking really hard about something.

Link clears his throat. “Whatcha doing there?”

As soon as she realizes Link’s presence, she shakes from her daze, smiling up at him. “Waiting for you. I felt like going home a while ago but I thought I’d wait for you.”

“That was cool of you.”

“No biggie.”

Link towers over her, even after she stands up. The height difference can be almost comical sometimes. She scrunches her nose a bit at him, like she’s taking in the height difference, too. And with that, they start their walk.

Link’s pretty quiet. More so than usual, Amelia notices.

“Something bothering you?” She asks.

“Uh, no. I’m fine.” And Link is the worst liar ever.

“Link…”

He’s silent for a moment.

“Amelia have you ever kissed anyone?”

Amelia laughs, cause she was not expecting this. “Yeah, silly. Why do you ask?”

And oh, Link thinks. That is not what he wanted to hear.

“Who?”

“Well. Umm. Jake. And Tyler. And-”

She notices him go quiet, eyes glued to his feet as they walk.

“You okay, Link?”

He shakes his head.

“Well what’s up?” She continues.

Link sighs deeply before responding. “Amelia, I’ve never kissed anyone..” he quickly mumbles out.

“I’m sorry I didn't really hear you. Did you say-”

“I said I’ve never kissed anyone,” and you could definitely say his voice is raised.

Amelia doesn’t really know how to respond. “Link, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

“No. It’s not. Everyone else has. Literally everybody.”

“That’s not true.”

“You have though.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But, what?” He interrupts her, and Amelia catches on that he’s pretty upset right now.

“It didn’t mean anything. I kissed those guys on a dare. At a stupid party. I didn’t even enjoy it.”

“Still,” Link sighs. “I feel like a freak. Kind of.”

“Well you are a freak,” she smirks at him. “But not because you haven’t kissed anyone.”

Link visibly relaxes, smiling back despite the dig. They're quiet again for a few minutes before Link speaks up again.

“Amelia, can I ask you something really dumb?”

“Sure, dummy.”

He sighs again, as if he’s working up some sort of courage, because he is. “Can I kiss you right now?” He looks to her face for a reaction before he continues. Of course she looks startled and confused. Just as he’d expected. “Not like serious. Like just so I can get it over with?” He explains quickly.

“Are you for real?” She giggles, still a little drunk.

“I am.”

“No, you idiot. I love you too much."

And now it’s Link’s turn to look startled.

"You’re my best friend,” She continues.

Oh. Right.

“And I’m not letting you waste your first kiss because you 'want to get it over with.’”

_______

2 weeks later and final exams are cramming their way into Link’s life. As he wraps up studying for a chem exam, he checks the clock. 1am. He yawns, standing up and stretching, before deciding to call it a night. Link finds himself glancing across the street, knowing it’s prime time for Amelia to be studying, too. His gaze lands on her bedroom window, but he frowns as he notices her light is turned off.

Link doesn’t think too much of it. He’s actually a little relieved that Amelia has seemingly gone to bed at a decent time. He quickly brushes his teeth and sets his alarm before collapsing into bed.

On the verge of sleep, Link is interrupted by a noise against his window. He tries to brush it off, but it becomes more persistent. Every 10 or so seconds, a sharp tap against glass. He gets up, crossing the floor, peering out his window. He rubs his eyes as they adjust, looking down at the front lawn.

And there’s Amelia Shepherd. Dressed in skinny jeans and a leather jacket, looking right back at him. Link thinks he’s dreaming. Amelia grows impatient at his slow reaction, taking it upon herself to throw another small rock against the glass. Link jumps back, startled. He opens the window.

“Amelia, what-” He groans. “What are you doing? What time is it? What-”

“Can you let me in? I need to stay over.” She interrupts him.

Something about her tone of voice seems off, Link thinks. But, he’s moving down the stairs and toward the front door quicker than expected for being half-asleep.

They settle on the sofa in Link’s living room. Amelia immediately begins kicking off her ankle boots. Link watches her, noticing her glassy, blood-shot eyes. He sighs.

“Don’t be mad at me.” Amelia picks up on his disappointment right away. She leans back against the cushions, resting her eyes shut. Link is glad for it. Her eyes are absolutely stunning. He has no problem admitting it. But, he hates the way they look when they are glazed over and hinting red like that. Her eyes remain closed as she mumbles at him “Can I have a glass of water?”

Link silently obeys her request. Moving about the kitchen slowly, as to not wake his father. When he re-enters the living room, Amelia is sitting up again, playing with her fingers anxiously. Link sets the glass of water on the table before he sits back down next to her.

“Thanks,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

Link shakes his head. “You okay?” He asks her.

She pauses, gathering her thoughts. “I did something stupid.”

Link is not phased by this. She “does something stupid” quite a lot these days. And, quite a lot, she ends up on his couch when she doesn’t want to face her problems right away. And Link lets her do this. He lets her hide out across the street when she can’t go home yet.

“I took Derek’s car this time,” she almost whispers. And Link’s head snaps up, glancing through the front window and to her driveway across the street. He notices Derek’s car to be missing still.

“Amelia!” It’s a combination of a whisper and a shout. “You can’t be driving around like this-”

“Oh please!” She interrupts him, matching his tone. “I just smoked a little weed!”

Link glares at her. Locking eyes with her hazy blue orbs.

“And besides...I didn’t drive his car home. I walked.” She continues.

“You walked?!”

“Hey! I left his car didn’t I? I was being safe!”

Link takes a minute to steady his voice. He can hear some shuffling around upstairs but decides to ignore it.

“I would have come pick you up.” He sighs. Amelia leans back against the cushions again. Link notices truly how anxious she looks. She looks up at him, worry and regret dancing all across her features. He sighs again, and this time he sounds more understanding. “We’ll go get his car first thing in the morning.”

She smiles a bit, grateful. She looks so tired.

“Did you leave it Jake’s?” Link asks, flinching at the thought of her even going over to his house. Link can’t stand the guy. He’s a bad influence on her, the school’s go-to dealer. Not to mention the guy is repeating his senior year. Ugh.

Amelia nods. “Yeah-”

They’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps descending the staircase. Link’s dad turns the corner a moment later. Link meets his dad’s eyes apologetically. When he sees Amelia and Link on the couch, he nods to himself knowingly.

“Hi, Mr. Lincoln,” Amelia speaks up. “Sorry to wake you.”

Link’s dad looks at Amelia, nodding with understandment. “That’s quite alright, Amelia. Just came down for a glass of water, actually.” Link knows his dad is making that last bit up. He’s just checking in. “Are you okay?”

Amelia nods gratefully at the man still standing in the doorway. “I’m okay….thanks Mr. Lincoln.”

“Yeah thanks Dad. I’ll be back up in a bit.” Link watches as his dad disappears, eyes shifting back to Amelia. Her eyes close again as she relaxes back against the couch. Link squeezes her thigh gratefully. Grateful to his dad for being practically a second parent to Amelia. Amelia smiles sleepily.

“Your dad is the best.”

“I know.”

Amelia’s smile fades and Link’s heart clenches a bit at the sight of it. He knows that his dad has acted as sort of a father figure to Amelia, especially because Amelia’s dad had died when she was so young. Link and Amelia had even bonded over being raised by single parents growing up. He feels sick with guilt. His parent’s divorce can’t even compare to what Amelia has been through.

“Alright we can talk tomorrow, ok?” Link whispers, squeezing her thigh once more before standing up. He grabs a blanket from the basket in the corner and tosses it to Amelia. She wraps it around herself before moving to lay down across the couch. Link heads toward the stairs.

“Link?”

He pauses. “Yeah?”

“Just, please-” Amelia’s voice is laced with sadness. “I, just. I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

Link sighs from the doorway. “I’m not, Amelia. It’s...just. You scare me sometimes.”

Link hears some shuffling around before he sees Amelia’s head pop up over the back of the sofa. She glances back at him.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Link just stares at her, not knowing what to say. He’d rather they have this conversation tomorrow. But, Amelia speaks up again.

“I don’t know why I do this stuff sometimes….” her voice is barely a whisper, it sounds like she’s talking more to herself. “It’s just nice to not feel...sometimes...to be not feeling everything. If that makes sense…”

Link nods quickly. “Amelia we’ll talk tomorrow, ok?”

Amelia nods in response, still looking unsure of herself.

“We’ll get donuts on the way to pick up the car, how’s that sound?” Link speaks up again, smiling at her.

Amelia beams at him. She finally drops down against the pillows. Link takes a second before he turns back toward the stairs. As he makes his way up, he hears a quiet “thank you” from behind him.

_______

Link is 18 years old when he discovers what it feels like to miss someone so much it hurts.

He’s been away for his first semester of college for 2 months now and not even weekly Skype sessions with Amelia can distract him from his shitty experience so far.

His roommate is the definition of douche-bag. Constantly trashing their room, eating all of Link’s food, staying up all night, locking him out of the room for hours at a time when he has a girl over.

Link hates it here. And he misses having his best friend. And the comfort of being so close with someone and having them near at all times.

Amelia is having a different experience. She got into college on a scholarship and immediately found her place.

Link doesn’t like to admit that he often catches himself counting down the days until Christmas, aka when he’ll see her again. Hear her laugh again, and not just through a webcam.

_______

Link learns to find new distractions. He joins the college baseball team. He meets new people. People he actually enjoys, way more than he’ll ever enjoy his roommate or the people that live on his floor.

He meets Emma. She’s on the college dance team. She’s beautiful. And tall. And genuinely funny. And a distraction.

He thinks he loves Emma, by the end of his first year of college. He feels something every time he looks at her. With her beautiful dark hair and her tan skin. Her wide smile and the way she laughs with her entire body. She feels familiar. And makes him feel nostalgic.

And he crushes any thought he has of Emma equaling his Amelia. His best friend.

He loses his virginity to Emma. It was a stupidly quick and drunken thing. By the time he returns home that summer, he can barely remember what it felt like. Or why he thought he knew what love was when he looked at Emma.

_______

Link is 22 years old when he discovers what it feels like to finally open up.

He hasn’t seen Amelia in almost a full year, although they still consider each other one another’s best friends.

It’s finally thanksgiving and they’re both returning home from their separate colleges for the weekend. He’s completely shocked when he first sees her. She looks the same but so, so different. More mature. More….something. Her hair is cut a bit shorter, framing her face. Her eyes are more intense than he remembers. Her face lights up at the sight of him and it makes his chest pull tight. He takes in what she’s wearing, the blue in her dress doing all the right things for her features.

Amelia clears her throat, drawing his attention back up to her face. “Long time no see, Link. Eyes up here.”

He shakes his head amusedly as he pulls her into a tight hug, because she’s already making him laugh within the first few seconds of being reunited.

_______

They end up at a local restaurant. The night before thanksgiving, which happens to be the busiest bar night all year. It’s also the night that everyone from high school decides to go to the same place. It basically feels like a premature high school reunion.

Amelia and Link attempt to stay together for the entirety of the night, but it’s a little hard when you’re constantly interrupted by vaguely familiar faces and pointless conversations.

After Link catches up with an old buddy for what seems like hours, he moves across the crowded room to find Amelia. It’s well past 1am and Link kind of wants to go home. He has to get up early tomorrow anyway to set up for thanksgiving festivities.

He catches her eye from where she’s sitting at a table, and motions toward the door, attempting to let her know that he’s leaving.

She frowns at him before abruptly ending whatever conversation she was part of.

Link watches her as she pushes through people to meet him by the door.

“You’re leaving without me? What kind of date are you?” She smirks at him as she shrugs on her jacket.

“I wasn’t aware this was a date, Ames.” Link responds, playing along. “But yes, I am leaving. Early morning and all that.”

“Well let me walk you home.” She continues, voice laced with irony.

_______

They end up back at Link’s house, sitting at the kitchen table. And it all feels very nostalgic. Especially with Link’s dad upstairs sleeping. Link feels like a kid again. Amelia makes him feel like a kid again.

Mostly there’s a lot of catching up, and reminiscing. And conversation about the future. It’s good. And Link is happy. And Amelia is laughing, so inherently, Link is too.

“Remember that time junior year when you were so sleep deprived because 'college prep, duh’ that you slept-walked all the way across the street, to my house, and started throwing random shit at my window?”

Amelia bursts out laughing. “My sleep schedule was always a mess. But how about that time we got so drunk senior year? And we fell asleep on your front lawn? And my mom found us the next morning?”

_______

They talk about everything. All the things they used to love. All the things they missed about each other while they were both away. Everything that’s new to them.

Amelia learns everything about Link’s college experiences. All of the drunken mishaps. All of the ex-girlfriends. Even some weird sex things that she can’t ever un-hear. She learns that Link wants to pursue med school, possibly move out to the city.

Link learns that Amelia wants to follow in her older siblings’ footsteps. He learns that she loves science and wants to become a surgeon, and Link swears to her that he had always known that about her.

Amelia tells him about the relationships she’s been through. And the one she’s currently in.

“You’ll get to meet him this weekend, Link. He’s driving in tomorrow. For dinner.”

Link swallows, hard. Because suddenly things don’t feel so much like nostalgia and a happy, familiar place. Things feel uncertain.

“How long have you two been together?” He asks, feeling a tad out of place.

“We met my freshman year. We’ve been dating on and off since then.”

“On and off?” Link questions.

Amelia clears her throat. “Well, yeah.” She sighs. “We’ve broken up more than once. And gotten back together a couple of times…It’s um…” She pauses, collecting her thoughts. “It’s been, um, I mean I wouldn’t say a roller coaster, but…”

Link watches Amelia’s face fall with her half-attempt at an explanation. For the second time tonight, Link realizes that Amelia looks different. And it’s not just the confidence or the mature face. It’s in her eyes. And Link thinks she looks sad. Despite the fact that she’s been laughing freely, the same way she always has. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

Link doesn’t want to pry. But he almost feels obligated to ask. Because this is his best friend. His favorite person of practically 13 years.

“Amelia, are you happy?”

She doesn’t look up from where her eyes are glued to the kitchen table. It feels like minutes have passed before Amelia stands up on wobbly feet and walks around to Link’s side of the table. She still doesn’t say anything, but all of a sudden she’s forcing her way into Link’s lap, legs dangling off the side of the chair and arms wrapping around his neck.

She looks exhausted, he notices, when he looks into her eyes. And then she finally opens her mouth.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school. Probably since I was 9, if I’m being honest.” And she laughs a little bit under her breath.

She lays her head on his chest so he can no longer see her face. Link wraps his arms around her waist and places a comforting kiss to the top of her head.

“And I of course was head over heels for you, but you already knew that. Everyone did.” He whispers, tightening his grip on her just slightly, giving her a gentle squeeze.

She laughs into him, and Link can feel it on his neck. It’s a tired, breathless laugh.

“Let’s crash on the couch, yeah?” He offers. “Like old times?”

_______

It’s weird for Link the next night at dinner. To see Amelia snuggled into the embrace of another man. Not even 24 hours after she’d fallen asleep in his own arms.

Link cringes when he recites it in his head. The way he’d whispered ’I’ve always loved you, Ames. Always will’ before they drifted off.

And the way that she’d responded. ’I love you too, Link. You’re my best friend.’

Link is angry, he thinks.

_______

Link is 25 years old when he discovers that he’s destined to be a father.

When his fiancé of two years, Rachel, tells him she's pregnant, he almost falls to his knees. So overwhelmed with a feeling he can’t place. He hopes it’s that he’s overjoyed, not overwhelmed, or the least bit uncertain.

He would love nothing more than to be a father.

_______

Link feels numb, three months later, when Rachel loses the baby. Waking up in the middle of the night and discovering such a thing, rushing to the hospital, only to find out it’s too late. It was draining for the both of them.

And it takes a toll on their relationship.

Rachel is defeated. And grows more and more depressed.

She takes her anger out on Link, and he does the same with her.

They decide to take a break, and Rachel moves back in with her parents. She needs some time for herself. And Link doesn’t know if he feels relieved. But he feels something. Cause he knows he was supposed to be a father.

_______

Link is 28 years old when he discovers that Seattle is his true home.

He’s graduated medical school and landed an internship at a top hospital in the city. He’s been in Seattle for almost 2 months now, and he feels like he’s in the right place for the first time in a long time.

It’s a monday morning and he’s taking his regular train ride downtown when an all too familiar brunette steps into the subway car.

The car is kind of crowded, and she automatically makes her way to a less dense standing spot. She doesn’t see him, cause she’s not really looking around.

Link is frozen in his seat, unsure of what to do. He hasn’t seen her in almost 3 years. Since they met at a restaurant in their hometown on New Years Eve. He was with Rachel at the time and things were very different.

Link realizes the next stop is his and he almost debates staying on to take his chance with Amelia.

The doors open and Amelia is getting off. And this is his stop, too. He leaps out of his seat just in time for the doors to not close in on him as he exits the train.

And he's definitely moving a little too fast and with too much force, because as soon as he’s on the platform, he’s running right into his childhood best friend.

She looks more startled than ever. And he takes a second to catch his breath. “Long time no see, Shepherd.” He smiles.

And her face lights up like never before. Brighter than before the average walk to school. Brighter than the time she first visited him at college. Brighter than a Thanksgiving reunion. She’s pulling him into the tightest of hugs, laughing breathlessly into his ear.

“What the hell, Link? What the hell are you doing here?” She lets go of him and they’re making eye contact, smiles wide across both their faces. They both seem to need to catch their breath.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He jokes.

Amelia shakes from her daze. “I..I live here now. I start a new job today. Like now, actually.”

Link just shakes his head knowingly, trying to contain the smile that just won’t quit. He doesn’t have much to say.

He’s overjoyed.

_______

Link is 29 years old when he discovers that his 9 year old self was correct. He knows what a soulmate is, by definition.

He knows what a soulmate is when he takes Amelia out on their real first date and he doesn’t even kiss her goodbye, because the timing isn’t quite right.

He knows what a soulmate is when he watches Amelia become a brilliant neuro fellow. When he watches her work. And save lives. When he realizes that he’s loved her determination since the moment they first met.

He knows what a soulmate is when they have sex for the first time. And it's way better for the both of them than it ever was with anyone else. When they take it kind of slow, reveling in each moment. Because it doesn’t feel real. She doesn’t feel real. It’s understated and overwhelming and it drives Link insane.

Amelia had asked him to stay over after they’d gone out with some of their other co-workers after a successful surgery, and when the making out and cuddling pressed into something further, Link couldn’t deny her.

Link knows what a soulmate is that night. When she looks him in the eye and goes to remove her sweater. It’s all vulnerability and it leaves him awestruck. But this is his best friend, and his soulmate. So when he asks her if she’s sure, and she sighs with words of encouragement, he takes the opportunity to learn every inch of her skin.

Link knows what a soulmate is the next morning. When he wakes up with the sun shining harshly through the window. And he turns to Amelia, who’s still sleeping, and traces the lines and shadows on her back from the bright sun.

Link knows what a soulmate is that same morning when she finally wakes from her slumber, rolling over to face him and whispering ’let’s make pancakes.’

Link knows what a soulmate is when they move in together. In a tiny apartment in Seattle. And they paint the walls a different color in every room.

And despite their first fight, Link knows what a soulmate is. He meets Amelia’s nieces and nephews. And he makes a nonchalant comment about kids one day. And she panics. And doesn’t talk to him for three days.

Link knows what a soulmate is when he learns to compromise. Because she doesn’t always have the best track record with long term relationships. She’s nontraditional, and he understands that.

And she’s still his soulmate when they turn 30. They get a bigger house in the suburbs. Link calls it 'room to grow’ and Amelia rolls her eyes and calls it 'extra work space.’

When they’re 32, and they’re attending their co-worker’s amazingly beautiful wedding, and Amelia distractedly states that ’maybe I’ll marry you someday,’ Link knows what a soulmate is.

_______

Link is 34 years old when everything falls into place for the rest of his life.

He comes home and Amelia has cooked dinner, something she never does. (Unless this is secretly takeout food, that she’s organized neatly onto their own dinner plates).

The atmosphere is different and Amelia definitely has a nervous energy about her.

Later that night when they're practically asleep, and Amelia mumbles “by the way, I’m pregnant,” Link knows what a soulmate is.

At first he thinks she’s kidding, but when she assures him she’s not, Link is up and turning on the lights. Dancing around the room like an idiot. And Amelia is laughing. Head thrown back and everything, his favorite sight to see.

And he’s never felt so happy.

_______

They settle on a name the same day they find out it’s a boy.

“Aiden?”

“No.”

“Charlie?”

“No.”

“Sam?”

“No.”

“Link, come on. Why do you hate every single name that I like?”

“It has to feel right, Amelia. We’ll know when it’s the right one.”

“Ugh. Okay. How about you come up with one?”

Link purses his lips. “How about Scout?”

“Scout…” Amelia repeats. “That’s a funny name.”

“It is,” Link smiles.

“You have a funny name,” Amelia continues, smirking.

“Scout,” Link repeats. “It’s perfect.”

Feedback please/let me know if you want me to write more amelink/send prompts!!

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia x link #amelinkfic #my writing

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years

Text

Day 7

Prompt: There is a string tied around your pinky the end of which leads to your soulmate.

Word Count: 2,647

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01, @spoopy-turtle, @lizluvscupcakes, @more-fandon-than-friends, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes

Note: I modified the prompt a bit. In this world, everyone can see the string tied around the finger. When the string is intact, it’s red like normal. If the string has been cut, it will turn gray and both soulmates will be seen as ‘lesser people’ for denying their destiny. If a soulmate dies, the string will turn black. Another thing to note is that Logan is asexual. It’s briefly alluded to in the beginning but not brought up again.

Virgil wandered the campus, shoulders hunched in a clear indication that he didn’t want to be seen. He was glad to be able to be here at all after what happened in high school. Even so, he made sure to wear the gloves and stay out of people’s ways. The first semester was hell as he still wasn’t sure how to do anything but still tried. It seemed all his teachers had it out for him on day one as soon as they caught sight of those gloves.

It wasn’t until his second semester that he met someone who wore gloves just like him. He was sitting by himself during the time he’d scheduled for lunch, reading a fanfiction off his phone and trying to block out the world. Someone sat beside him and started watching a nature documentary while eating. He glanced over and frowned in confusion. Before he could gather his things to move to a different seat, the person spoke.

“I see you’re just like me.”

Virgil’s frown deepened. “How is that?”

They held up a gloved hand. “How did yours happen?”

Virgil relaxed into his seat. “I don’t know. I was in the middle of math class in high school.”

They winced, nodding. “That’s tough.”

“You?” Virgil didn’t know why, but he felt a burning need to know their story, to know he wasn’t alone in his struggles.

Their wince turned sour, a look one step away from a glare entering their eyes. “I cut it myself. She wasn’t willing to treat me right, didn’t accept my pronouns and sexuality, so I cut it. I know my worth and she didn’t deserve me. As far as I care, she still doesn’t.”

Virgil nodded, almost in awe of them. “I never met mine but they’ve stayed with me for a while now. I’ve always wondered if I was ever going to be good enough for someone or if I was simply too damaged.” He had no idea why he was telling a random stranger his life’s story but it felt too right to stop.

The stranger shook their head. “They cut it, you didn’t. It’s their fault but you’ve had to live with it. That shouldn't have been the case.” They turned to look at him, a fierce expression in their eyes. “If they didn’t want you, they didn’t deserve you, simple as that. You never got to know them or be known by them, thus it is their fault for cutting it. Never blame yourself for the actions of others.”

With that, they put their headphones back in and played their documentary. Virgil felt his phone buzz and looked down to find that he had ten minutes to get to class. He hastily ripped out a paper from his notebook, scrawled his number on it, shoved it over to the stranger, and ran off to get to class.

He didn’t see the stranger again for a few days but got a text from them that night. They chatted late into the night, talking about classes and life outside of soulmates. They commiserated over their lack of soulmates and the shunning it causes. Virgil was able to complain about his gloves and how much he hated them and have someone agree and understand, something he’d never had before. He was able to understand when the stranger, Logan, complained about the stares they got while washing their hands, how they hated everyone looking at the gray string that hung limply from their finger.

Virgil soon found not only a soulmateless companion, but a companion in academic pursuits as well. They seemed to be intellectual peers so Virgil understood most of Logan’s science babble. Logan seemed to have taken a biologist major as they spoke of creatures found in rainforests constantly. Virgil, on the other hand, was in an arts major, focusing mainly on building models of commissioned structures.

Slowly, brick by brick, Logan rebuilt Virgil’s self confidence. They helped him regain his self love, told him how strong he was for surviving the most grueling years of his life. Logan would never let Virgil apologize for the simple things like running late or using the wrong pronouns for them. They always made sure to let him know that they were not upset and were proud of his progress. Virgil’s sense of self worth grew stronger and larger, finally allowing him to see what Logan had known from the start: Virgil’s soulmate didn’t deserve him.

Over the semester, they grew closer, their bond growing strong. Virgil’s panic attacks lessened, he could stand to hear the word ‘soulmates’ without wanting to curl into a ball and cry, he didn’t jump at the sight of a math textbook, didn’t feel the need to hide his high school passions. He grew enough that he could look at the gloves he had to wear with something other than disdain.

Soon, they had decided to room together the next semester. Luckily, their requests were easily approved as it seemed the faculty were more than happy to have the two students without soulmates room together.

They finished their degrees and managed to graduate without dying, which Virgil counted as a plus. Logan simply said Virgil was being overdramatic. Once they graduated, they found an aquarium with a rainforest section that allowed Logan to work with the animals they loved and gave Virgil a lot of opportunities to make or upgrade different terrariums and enclosures. He was also able to design more enrichment activities for certain animals. They saw each other in the back rooms and in the halls. Most times, they ended up sitting with each other to eat lunch as not many people wanted to interact with them.They still lived together in a small apartment as they didn’t feel the need to move.

Over time, Virgil got to know Logan better and knew he was falling for them. One night, he’d accidentally had too much to drink. He leaned against Logan, who’s arm around his waist was the only thing keeping him upright and relatively stable. Logan deposited him on the couch. “Stay here, I’ll go grab you some water to sober you up.”

Virgil whined, reaching out for them. Once he took hold of their hand, he pulled his roommate close. “No! Don’t go!”

Logan sighed but sat down on the couch anyways. Virgil leaned heavily to the side but before Logan could catch him, his head landed in the other’s lap. Virgil wiggled a bit before he managed to throw his legs over the arm of the couch, fully laying down now. He giggled, looking up at Logan. “You’re really handsome.” He muttered.

Logan smiled fondly, a hand reaching out to stroke through Virgil’s hair. “That’s nice, Virge. How about you try to sleep now?”

Virgil shook his head. “No, no sleep. You’re too nice to me.”

Logan’s smile turned into a frown. “How am I too nice to you?”

“You’re very patient with me, never getting angry at me for jumping at small noises, or randomly leaving a room. You take such good care of me when I’m sick. You’ve treated me with more basic human kindness than most people did during college.” Tears started to slide down his temples but Logan brushed them away. “I love you, L.” Virgil curled up, his face pressed against Logan’s stomach.

Logan stayed still the rest of the night, eventually falling asleep. When they woke, Virgil was moving around in the kitchen. “Sorry, did I wake you?” He asked genuinely.

Logan groaned but shook their head as they stood. “No, but I think we need to talk about last night.”

Virgil nodded, turning the burner off so he didn’t burn the scrambled eggs. “Is this about my drinking? I promise that was a one time thing.”

“No, I trust you on that. I’m talking about what you said to me before you fell asleep.”

Virgil nodded again, shakier this time. He put the dish towel he was holding down. “Oh, that.”

Logan nodded. “I only really have one question for you.”

Virgil looked at the counter, pretending to wipe at the already clean surface. “Sure, shoot.”

Logan put a hand on his arm, staying his movement. “Did you mean it?”

Virgil’s head shot up so fast he was sure he popped something. “Of course!”

Logan smiled, leaning over to kiss Virgil’s cheek. “Good, because I love you too.”

Virgil stood there, dazed, for a few minutes while Logan walked away to shower and get ready for the day. When they came back out, they had a discussion of what their relationship was and decided that they were datemates.

As time went on, they stopped sleeping in separate rooms for one reason or another. Sometimes, one of them couldn’t handle the pressure of the world anymore and ended up crying themselves to sleep on the other’s bed, sometimes they were cuddling and talking before falling asleep. Eventually, they simply decided to share a room. With their combined savings, they toured apartments and found one they liked, with a bedroom they could both make theirs.

A few more years went by and they were happy. When around Logan, Virgil could almost forget about the grey string tied to his finger, the string that decreed he was unlovable, unable to marry, unable to adopt. The string and all implications that came with it ceased to exist the moment he caught sight of Logan.

It was in one of those moments that he knew: he wanted to marry this beautiful human beside him, the one holding him close, the one who makes him forget the world, the one who loves him just as much as he loves them. He also knew that the gray strings hidden under their gloves denied their marriage. Only soulmates bound by a red string could get married, adopt, love.

Virgil raised his head from it’s position on Logan’s chest, looking them in the eye. “Marry me.”

Logan chuckled, a hand running through Virgil’s hair. “I’d love to but you know we can’t.”

Virgil shook his head. “If our marriage would never be legal, why should we use legal means?”

Logan’s smile slid into a frown. “I don’t follow.”

“How does a wedding go, babe?”

Logan’s smile returned at the pet name. “It usually involves the soulmates saying vows and swapping their soul strings, which proceeds to glow golden around the base of the finger while the rest of the string stays red.”

Virgil nodded, his smile growing. “So, let’s do that! We don’t need any witnesses if we’re not able to make it legal anyways. What do you say?”

Logan had gotten a look in their eye while Virgil was talking that he knew all too well. His datemate was plotting something. “Well,” he said finally, “if we’re doing this, I’d want to do it as best as we can.”

Virgil nodded, moving to sit up so he could see Logan better. “Like what?”

“You mentioned vows?”

Virgil smiled, feeling excitement and just a bit of anxiety growing. “That’s doable.”

“I could pick up cupcakes instead of a wedding cake?”

Virgil nodded, grinning. “Would it be too much if I were to wear a suit?”

Logan smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Not if I wore a dress.”

They continued to plan their ‘wedding’ over the course of a few days, both preparing vows in their free time. Virgil was once asked about what he was doing by a coworker but said he was giving a speech at a relative’s wedding, not wanting to give away that what he was doing was technically illegal.

The day they’d set arrived. It was a joint day off so neither had to go into work. Virgil woke up before Logan did, depositing a kiss to their forehead before slipping out of bed. He ate breakfast, making one for Logan to find when they woke up, before heading to the spare bedroom to prepare.

A few hours later, he walked out to the living room they’d decorated the night before. He stood at the arch of paper links, his gloves discarded and suit on. He fidgeted with the edges, wanting everything to be perfect for Logan.

When they walked out, it felt like his breath was sucked out of him. His eyes swept over Logan’s frame, their dress accentuating their features. Logan’s smile could have sent birds singing when Virgil’s eyes finally made their way back up. He held out his hand for them to take as they arrived. “You look gorgeous.” He murmured in awe.

Logan chuckled, dropping their bouquet gently onto the couch. “Thank you. You look amazing as well.”

Virgil gripped Logan’s hands tightly, knowing he was first. He looked directly into their eyes while he spoke. “I’ve chosen you. To be no other than yourself, loving what I know of you and trusting who you will become. In a world that is based on who you were destined to love at birth, I’ve chosen to love you. It is free will but that does not mean it is false love. I will gladly share your name and care for you, in sickness and in health, in fair weather and storms, in every battle life throws at us. I will stand by your side and fight with you. We shall always be equals in this marriage and I would never wish it any other way. I love you and take you, Logan Croft, to be my unlawfully wedded spouse.”

Logan smiled, squeezing Virgil’s hands before beginning. “All I have in this world, I freely give to you. I promise to love you every second of every day, not just for a moment, nor for an hour, nor for a day, nor for a year, I will love you until eternity ends. Until the mountains crumble into the sea, and the oceans rise to consume the land, I will love you with everything I have. I will put you back together when you are falling apart, I will laugh with you, grieve with you. Our love is unique and something I will cherish beyond anything. I found you without the aid of a string, without anything tying our souls together, and our love is stronger for it. We have fought to love, fought to live in a world that does not want us, and we have grown and clung to each other through it all. I cannot tell where I end and you begin and I would have it no other way. I love you with all my soul and take you, Virgil Storm, to be my unlawfully wedded husband.”

They both carefully untied the gray strings around their pinkies, Virgil tying his around Logan’s left ring finger before Logan tied theirs around Virgil’s. Once they did that, they shared a kiss. Logan was the first to pull back, their eyes going down to look at the soul string tied around their finger.

The part tied at the base was now a glowing silver instead of a muted gray. Following the ends, one ended as normal while the other had grown and now connected to one of Virgil’s ends. His own string was also glowing a bright silver while the connecting string was a soft pink.

Virgil stared in shock before locking eyes with Logan. “Do you know what this means?”

“That people who have cut strings can choose their next soulmate? Or that the prejudice against those with grey and black strings is no longer justified? That we could probably go register at a courthouse and be lawfully wedded now? That-”

Virgil surged forward and captured their lips with a kiss. “It means that no one can tell us we are broken. No one can rip us apart.” He whispered before Logan tilted their head up for more kisses.

#tsshipmonth2020 #analogical #soulmate au #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ace!logan #aphobia mentioned #transphobia mentioned #ace writes

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