#because my damn brain never shuts up! there's no way my soulmate would just be getting one random thought appear on them 😭

[panevanbuckley]

soulmate au where your soulmate's thoughts appear on your skin except your soulmate has adhd and your body becomes a living canvas of nonsensical, never-ending, constantly entertaining trails of thought

[melsdreamweaving]

Across from me...

You dream,

Of oceans and waves.

My eyes make love,

To your strong jaw.

Your breathing,

A firm puff.

Instinctively,

Your arm grabs my waist...

Pulling me to you.

Warmth I never thought we'd share...

-This Is Everything

My grandmother did not approve of my husband at first. She had quite a few ignorant things to say about things like his hair...

Something that I didn't care about. The fact that he was so brave to meet the terror of Kendall and respectfully ask to take me out made me love him even more.

I had dated other guys who tried to pull off the angry edge lord vibe on my Cuban family. Needless to say that they were sent packing by hot foot power by my madrina.

I've known him for so long and he has been the only real friend I had when my grandmother was sick.

He is an amazing man and artist who inspires me everyday with his warm brown eyes.

Hope everybody is having a great day so far.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Ok so I was watching a danganronpa animatic of an AU where Kokichi and Shuichi are soulmates and of course my brain goes on to think about the themes of trust and love that Kokichi and MAKOTO have (for some reason. I love my boy too much I guess) and was mentally thinking of a scene in some kind of "Makoto is in V3 instead of Shuichi but the events of canon still happened" AU where Kokichi is, y'know, reaching his breaking point where he can't figure out how to stop the killing game and Makoto, y'know, he understands both during this killing game (because he was trying to stop it too or at least keep everyone alive) and all the other previous ones and in private tries to offer him support and tells him how he thinks Kokichi's a good person and he trusts him and loves him (I don't really care in what way this is taken as. Maybe aggressive support?) and Kokichi, of course being at a breaking point and having trust issues, casts him aside kind of angrily because Makoto seems like he trusts people really easily and has probably never felt betrayal like Kokichi had and therefore doesn't believe him when he says all those positive things about him and Makoto SHUTS THAT DOWN HARD. Like he pulls out the determined slightly angry positivity (I don't know if I want to describe it like that but I don't know how else) where it's just like

Makoto is standing tall, his shoulders are tense, and his finger's in Kokichi's face like: Hey, no. I love you and trust you. You don't know anything about me so I will tell you how many times I have been betrayed by friends just because it was convenient and they never or barely gave a half-ass apology. The girl who I thought I could trust to have my back in a situation JUST LIKE THIS WITH THE BEAR AND EVERYTHING tried to set me up for murder. Another girl sacrificed me to find "the truth" on multiple occasions and barely gave me an apology after I was almost starved and had a ton of injuries. I had to try to kill someone because they wouldn't just talk to me instead of attempting to commit mass murder. So when I say I trust and love you I mean it. I may say it often but that doesn't mean I take it lightly. I can't force you to accept those feeling but please do anything but deny or take them lightly. Because I DO love and trust you so much.

Kokichi is fucking BALLING in my head.

Anyway I just wanted to share that since it was on the brain and this is usually my go-to blog for sharing my random DR day dreams and ideas with. Whenever I pop in anyway.

(Sidenote: Protag switch AUs (or even detective switch AUs with Shuichi and Kyoko) between Makoto and Shuichi are so underrated. I don't write fan fiction so I hope and pray everyday that one day I will stumble across one with the quality of the A Change in Variables but that might be wishful thinking)

Oh damn.

That's such a cool idea.

Agreed I love all the protags, Makoto just holds a very special place in my heart.

The way I envision what you've said is that Makoto takes the place off Rantaro or at least plays a similar role to him.

As the Ultimate Survivor, aka someone who's survived the game before and remembers.

Possibly going undercover and not letting anyone else go through this shit again.

The reason for him being there to the outside world could be that Tsumugi wanted a guest star.

And you know having the Ultimate Hope would get people watching.

Makoto talking down Kokichi would be such an interesting scene because he'd be one of the only people who don't hate him.

And would be willing to listen and stand up to him.

Also because Makoto knows what he's doing, he can see through Celest I guarantee he can see through Kokichi.

And it would throw Kokichi off because he's designed this whole thing to have everyone against him, he'd got the perfect plan.

But that's Makoto for you, unpredictable is basically his middle name.

[ohsistaa]

" I would want to keep you as a friend "

" but unless you don’t stop hoping in an us, or stop having feelings for me "

" having me around won't be helpful "

Maybe we should've just stayed friends since the beginning. Maybe I shouldn't have let myself develop feelings. Maybe it was better to keep you that way.

Maybe if I would've just kept my feelings for myself, I wouldn't have lost you this way. Maybe if I suppressed my fire, I would've still saw you one last time. I would've had a chance to memorise your features. Maybe if I didn't take everything too serious, I would've still found a way to stay by your side.

Maybe if we would've just stayed strangers, we wouldn't have had to go through a lost world. Maybe if we would've stayed strangers, we wouldn't have had to go through this indecisive threats. Maybe if we would've stayed strangers, we wouldn't have met either way.

Maybe I should lie and tell both of us, that I stopped hoping. That I stopped longing. Maybe I should act like i am moved on and be friends just to keep you around. Maybe I should stop being sensitive. Maybe I should stop feeling. Right, I should stop feeling. Right?

Maybe "If we were meant to be, we'll find our way back again." is true. Maybe "If I'm for you, I'll eventually come back." is true. Maybe "Soulmates will always find their way to each other." is true.

Maybe If I wouldn't have loved you, you wouldn't have to suffer because of me. And maybe if you wouldn't have met me, you would've stayed happy. Or maybe the Universe wouldn't have let us meet, you would've been in peace.

Maybe if we would've met 3 years from now, you would've loved me back. Maybe you would've treat me like I am everything you wished for. Maybe you would've held me like you'll never let me go. Maybe you would've let me have the key to your caged heart.

or maybe.. I am the temporary character in your story, and you're the main in mine.

Maybe someone will love you more than I did. Maybe someone will understand your heart more than I did. Maybe someone will hear your silence more than I did. And maybe someone will see your tears through your smiles more than I did.

or maybe I was supposed to be the only one who could do that

Maybe if I didn't exist in your story, I would've closed my heart shut. Where no one will ever be able to open it again. Maybe if I wouldn't have met you, I would've turned a blank space. Maybe if I wouldn't have met you, I wouldn't be called a human by now. Maybe if I wouldn't have met you, I wouldn't know what love is by now.

but maybe, just maybe

I am what your heart screams.

That someday, that someone you would wish for..

Would be me.

or maybe I believe that you are meant to be mine, but you were meant to be someone else's

or maybe we were meant to be just friends for now, and fall in love after time

or maybe we were meant to meet each other, that's why it's hard for both of us to let go

or maybe it was all just a long damn dream and i need to wake up now

or maybe weren't supposed to meet at all

or maybe not

Titled: MY BRAIN HAS POISON CALLED 'YOU'

[softjakehoon]

Can We Pretend?

Pairing: Idol Jay/Reader

Warnings: Smut. For 18+ only, minors dni.

Includes: Corruption kink, friends with benefits, protected sex, squirting, mild choking, slight biting, rough sex.

Authors note: I might edit this later. I apologize for any errors, I wrote this at 5 am instead of sleeping. Lmao.

------

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, in case you wanted to back down. 

You were watching a drama just a couple of minutes ago when he kissed you by surprise. You remember teasing him and questioning his innocence because of a scene in the drama where the main leads were hugging before having sex for the first time. 

Your brain stopped functioning for a while to remember how it all came to this. 

"Pft. Who the fuck hugs before having sex?" You almost choked on your drink out of laughter. 

"Why? Isn't that a normal thing for couples?" Jay asked you with innocence plastered on his face. 

"Are you being serious? You.. don't tell me you're still a virgin?" You were so shocked that you had to pause the drama you're both watching. 

"What's wrong with being a virgin? Also, you already know I haven't dated anyone in my life, why are you so shocked?" His lips pouting cutely as he argued.

"But that was 3 years ago, Jay. You're literally 21 now, you need to get laid." You teased him out of habit. A sting of pain suddenly grazing your heart at the thought of your best friend on someone else's bed.

"As if I have the time for that. Besides, I can't just hook up with anyone. I have a reputation to protect as an idol." He's right, you nodded in response. A sudden thought crossing your mind. 

"Wait a minute, how do you release tension then? Do you just get off by yourself or?" Your face inspecting his eyes closely for some hint. "Don't tell me you don't jack off either?" You were beyond shocked by his blank expression, showing no sign of guilt at all. 

"Holy shit, how do you even do that? You poor thing." You taunted him. 

"Enough, y/n. I'm fine, I have a lot of ways to release stress. Unless, you want to offer yourself to help." Jay knew he wasn't thinking straight when he said this but he maintained his cool and unbothered expression to see how you would react. 

"You want us to be fuck buddies, is that it? Fine, I'll help you." You weren't sure why you agreed without giving it a second thought. But you know deep inside you've been in love with Jay for 6 years already. For all those years, you tried so hard not to be overly affectionate and clingy to the boy you liked the most--in fear of him drifting away from you. You wanted to be someone constant in his life, someone he can go to whenever he needs someone to lean on. You wanted to be his soulmate. 

You've done a great job so far, but you're not sure anymore. How the hell are you going to manage pretending from now on? When you're overly sentimental and you tend to give meaning to every single thing he does. 

"What? How can you agree so fast?" He jokingly covered his mouth, pretending to be shocked. 

"What? Do you want me to take it back? It's not like this is my first time having sex anyway." You tried to act cool as much as possible, pretending that this setup isn't that much of a big deal at all. 

"Right. I'm not. But you're gonna be my first." You're almost sure he sounded hurt when he said that while looking deeply in your eyes. 

You couldn't resist it anymore. You wanted to be the one to erase his innocence but you were surprised when he kissed you first. 

You couldn't honestly tell if this is his first kiss or not because he's definitely good at it. 

You pulled away out of shock. You didn't expect him to be this good since you thought he's just gonna go for a quick peck. He looked confused at your reaction.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, in case you wanted to back down. 

"No. No, I was just shocked. I thought you were just gonna go with a quick peck, that's all." For some reason you can't look directly in his eyes. You're sure of it. If you do, you're gonna fall for him again, like you always do. 

"Well, we're not gonna go further with just a peck, right? Stop acting so shy, I thought you're gonna help me." He lifted your chin using his thumb, your eyes meeting in parallel. 

"You sure about this, Jay? I mean, I may get clingy after all of this. You know how sensitive I get. I tend to feel a lot of emotions." You warned him, followed by a fake laugh to ease the tension. You wanted to give him an idea of what could happen at least. 

"Then, don't. We're just using each other for sex, keep that in mind." You're aware he didn't mean to hurt you by this. He was just stating the obvious--drawing the line between the two of you for safety precaution. But this hurts, and you wanted him to take the pain all away, even just for a while. 

You kissed him roughly in frustration. He picked up your pace quickly, he really is a fast learner, you thought. And his lips, they're small and cute but they felt so damn good on yours. You grabbed his face, feeling every inch of his jawline, circling your fingertips on the mark on his neck. You looked deep into his eyes before gently sucking on it. He moaned at the contact, grabbing a fistful of your hair gently and pulling you back to a kiss. 

"Don't leave marks, y/n. I have a photoshoot tomorrow." He said, firmly. 

"Too bad. Wanted to fucking mark you as proof of getting your virginity taken." You chuckled. 

"Let me mark you instead, then. Proof that I let you take it." He whispered into your ear, biting into it gently, and kissing your neck while sucking on your skin up to your cleavage. 

You moaned from the sensation. You're already melting from his touch, you couldn't help but to rub your thighs together, wanting some kind of pleasure on your core as soon as possible. 

"Jay, I want your cock in me so bad." You whined, desperate to feel him inside of you. You palmed his cock inside his shorts, pulling it out. This is your first time seeing your best friend's dick and it was prettier than you imagined it would be. And you always thought he would be huge, but this doesn't even compare to the one in your dreams. The length, the girth, the tip of his cock, all red from arousal, leaking with precum already. Your mouth is watering from the sight. 

You couldn't help it. You dropped on your knees, eyes levelled to his crotch. You pumped his dick with your small hands, earning a gasp from him. You circled your tongue in his tip, gathering all the precum in it before fully deep throating him. He let out a growl this time, surprised by your sudden action. "Fuck, y/n. That's it, your mouth feels so good." You hummed in his dick, sending vibrations to his senses. You kept bobbing your head up and down, making sure to go as deep as you can, his tip hitting your throat making you slightly gag. You pulled it out for a moment to spit on it, and put it back inside your mouth, sucking him sloppily.

"Fuck, y/n. I'm close, keep going." Your jaw is starting to hurt a little, but you wanted to taste him so bad. You continued sucking him off while cupping his balls, massaging them gently. 

"Fuck, I'm cumming." He tried to get you off of him but you wrapped your arms around his thighs, pulling him closer. His cock, burying in your throat even deeper as he cummed. You looked up to him, eyes closed and mouth open from the pleasure. His head tilted back, and his hair slightly wet from sweat. The view of him from below caused a pool of wetness in your core. You milked him dry and swallowed his load without hesitation. 

"Shit, y/n. That's just.. insane. Come here, I wanna taste you too." He helped you get up, both of you smiling from ecstasy. 

You sat up on the couch, your thighs closed involuntarily trying to hide your arousal. "Can I?" He looked into your eyes, asking for permission if he could eat you out like a gentleman that he is. 

"Y-yes." You shyly answered. This is the first time someone is getting down on you after all. Your ex never liked foreplay and always went on ahead with penetration every single time that it hurts most of the time. Nervous of what's to come, you covered your face with your hands, not wanting him to see your state. 

"Let me see your pretty face, y/n. I wanna see how good I'm making you feel." He grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on his head, giving you something to hold on to while he flicks his tongue in your clit. He looked at you, your head tilted on the side, your mouth open releasing soft moans. He took the chance to put two fingers in your mouth, making you suck on them only to put them inside your cunt. He continued thrusting his fingers in and out while licking and sucking your bud, driving you insane from the pleasure, your arousal dripping down his chin generously. 

You grabbed his hair firmly as you focused on reaching your climax, clenching on his fingers. "Jay, I.. I'm gonna cum." You're almost out of breath at this point. 

He curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot several times that had you squirting around his digits. He eased you from your high, fucking your hole with his tongue and sucking on your juices. He looked up to you with lust all written in his face. His cheeks and chin, all wet and covered with your scent. 

"I always knew you'd taste good. Though I didn't know you're a squirter." He chuckled and sat on the couch. 

"Shut up. It's because it felt too good." You got up and climbed on his lap. He grabbed your ass to spread them and began kissing you again. The taste of his cum and yours both mixing in your mouth as you kiss him back. You began grinding at his erection, coating his length with your juices as he guided you by your waist. 

You're getting impatient at this point, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you. You felt Jay searching for something in the corner of the couch, eventually bringing out a condom. 

"Why do you have that there?" You asked him, curious if he knew this would happen. 

"The boys left it here just in case. Didn't know I'd be the one to use it though." He tore the packaging and started rolling it down to the base of his cock. 

"You're such a good boy, aren't you?" You smiled at him.

"I don't think so." He whispered in your ear and bit your jaw, leaving a slight mark. You moaned a little bit louder this time. Surprised that it didn't hurt at all. "Aren't you such a pain slut? You're getting turned on by that? Huh?" His voice is so deep and velvety, making you clench your walls on nothing.

You started positioning yourself in his cock, slowly sinking down while biting your lip. He gasped from the unfamiliar sensation when he felt his tip enter you. You made sure to bottom all the way down, training your cunt to adjust to his size. 

"Shit. Move for me, baby. Be a good girl and ride my cock." He's holding you by your waist, pinning you down roughly. 

"Fuck, Jay. Your cock is so deep in me." You continued bouncing up and down, grinding back and forth on his cock from time to time whenever your legs would start to get tired.

Jay sensed that you’re starting to slow down so he started thrusting deep and sloppily into your core. You tried to meet his every thrust, biting your lips to keep yourself from screaming.

“Jay, I’m close.” He wrapped his right hand on your neck gently, while his left hand stayed at your waist. You're left at his mercy at this point. He’s in charge of the moment, giving you a smack on your ass as he growls from the intense pleasure.

“Cum for me, y/n.” With a couple of thrusts, you reached your orgasm, your walls convulsing around Jay’s cock that sent him to the edge as well.

He stayed inside you for a moment as both of you tried to catch your breath and then he pulled out after, discarding the condom in the trash bin.

He helped you get up and prepared a warm bath for you to enjoy. He knows that both of you just entered a complicated situation but he doesn’t regret it. As long as he’s with you, nothing else matters. 

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[danielxricciardo]

Cheater III

Summary: You found out Max cheated on you part 3.

Warnings: angst and fluff by the end

Word count: 2.5k

Part 1 and Part 2

Cheating in a relationship is the saddest thing. It can kill the personality from the inside. Bring changes a lot mentally. These situations turn into you to be good or bad. Some may be helpful to be stronger.

It feels bad when our loved one cheated, cause we are well connected to our partners. We had a lot of plans for that person to spend a most valuable time of ours. When it isn't going to happen then it feels unsuccessful or bad. Expecting something from another person is common in humans. When it turns down we feel such pain, like stabbing with words, The words have the power to kill or to give life to the opponent's mind. The reason why people say 'think before you talk'.

True love doesn't involve multiple people... You knew that.

When you are in love with someone, you don't cheat and you're not talking about just finding others attractive. You just don't desire to be sexually intimate with other people when you are truly "in love" with one person. You're not talking about caring for someone or loving in general.

You're talking about the head over heels, you're soulmates, the stars have aligned and nobody else has what you have, a type of love that consumes your whole being and makes you want to give that person the world. And that includes giving them the greatest physical pleasure that they can possibly experience. Cheating takes that away from you and that is why it hurts.

The person you are in love with and desire, who you thought felt the same way is revealing to you that intimacy with you is meaningless when you thought it was special. They do not desire you in the same way that you desire them. They are not "in love" with you in the way that you thought. All of your love is in vain.

“Why do we feel bad, even horrible, when our partner cheats on us?"

A trust, expectation, a promise was broken. This type of violation hits you closer to the heart because you have let that person through all your external defenses. Because you fear the loneliness that you are going to face. Nobody wants to end alone. When you put in so much for your relationship, you want it to last. But when your partner cheats you think that you would end alone, gradually realize this happens and life doesn't end here and someone else is going to come into your life.

Why do guys cheat on girls?

Both men and women cheat. In some cases, the reasons are simple: humans are animals with sex drives. We are biologically programmed to "spread our seeds." We have other instincts, such as loyalty, honesty, and guilt feelings. Those drives duke it out with lust in our brains. Sometimes, lust wins. It's more complicated than that because we tend to associate sex with so many other things: youth, freedom, adventure, personal attractiveness, you name it.

You know people make all sorts of excuses like, “I wasn’t happy in my relationship” or “I didn’t know what I was doing” or “I don’t find my partner attractive anymore” or “someone convinced me to do it.” You’ve heard these. But it’s funny to you.

A cheater can never have any excuse. They do not deserve to have that say after cheating on someone.

If you weren’t happy in the relationship, then why didn’t you break up first and had sex with someone else? Why didn’t you say that you needed a break and then had sex? Also, how can someone even convince you to cheat on your partner? It’s nonsense.

Some people will even go as far as to say that the other person made them feel loved, so they got swayed away. If you are not feeling loved by your partner and someone else is doing that job, then aren’t you supposed to figure out your feelings first, maybe break up with your partner and then be with someone else? That’s common sense.

Nobody deserves to be cheated on. The blame is ALWAYS on the cheater. Nowadays people even try to justify cheaters. It’s insane. To you, all the answers to “why” are simply just excuses trying to justify their unacceptable behavior. You know, how they always say that a person who cheats once will cheat again.

Since you found out that Max cheated on you and until this moment, so many months have passed that you have the impression that you have started to heal. You were with a man who made you feel fulfilled, happy, and loved. There were days in a row when you didn't think about Max, but even when you thought, you had in mind only the beautiful moments. Like when, for your first date, he rented your entire favorite restaurant and he cooked for both of you, even though he didn't know how to cook more than just one egg. Or when you first visited him at a Grand Prix for the first time and he won and came to you and kissed you in front of all the cameras, telling everyone that you are his lucky talisman. Or, your favorite memory, when you were at his house after you met his family and heard him talking to his father about you. Sure, you didn't understand a word they said, but Victoria translated to you what was most important about that conversation: Max loves you so much and if he doesn't get to marry you, he'll never marry anyone else.

As dear as your last memory may be, it is also painful because it is like a slap in the face to the fact that there was a time in your life when you were in love and now you were no longer together.

When you told your family that you started seeing another man, more than 6 months after you and Max broke up, your mother asked you how you could get into a relationship so quickly. relationship.

To be honest, you weren't ready yet. You were damn scared but Stephen, your boyfriend now, went after you a lot and you decided that if you don't give him a chance now it will be many years before you think about going on a date with someone else. You knew it wasn't going to be a long relationship. You didn't have much in common with Stephen, but he was a good, sweet boy, and you needed someone who wouldn't make you hate all the men in the world.

"Look, I'm not saying you didn't go through something traumatic, but it's been almost a year since then and I think it's time to come and show everyone that you're not afraid of anyone or anything," says Anthony who called you on facetime one Sunday night after the race.

"But I'm afraid."

"Just shut up, no one needs to know. You just come here, you smile, you laugh, you act friendly with everyone and you're going to look like you're better of without him."

You sigh and get out of bed, and go to the kitchen to get a pill for your headache.

"But he will be there..."

"Okay, so? Who cares about him? I'll always be by your side, I promise he won't talk to you."

"Can I come with Stephen?"

"You know I can't stand him, Y/N. Take him with you to the next Grand Prix, I don't feel like seeing him now, okay?"

"I'll think about it."

You have decided, however, to go to the last Grand Prix of the season, in Abu Dhabi. No one but Anthony knew you were coming to the race.

You forgot what a busy atmosphere it was on Sunday. However, everyone who saw you came to you to talk a little and to tell you that you missed them. You smiled and answered that you missed them as well.

The road to Red Bull Racing was long and short at the same time.

"Do my eyes see well? Y/F/N Y/L/N!" says Christian Horner, who comes to you and hugs you.

You first see Sergio Perez who waves at you, happy to see you, then you see Max who comes from somewhere in the back. Had he just heard your name?

"Hey, guys! I'm so glad to see you again. I missed you all."

"And we missed you, Y/N!" Christian answers on behalf of all Red Bull Racing employees. "Welcome home."

You giggle.

"Thank you."

In less than 10 minutes since you got there, Anthony broke his promise. He promised not to leave you alone so that Max could not come and talk to you.

"Hey," Max says softly, coming behind you.

You shivered at his voice, a voice you've dreamed of every night since you broke up. You turn to him and analyze his facial features. He was the way you remembered him, maybe even more handsome.

You look left and right for Anthony but you can't see him.

"Hey." You answer Max and your heart starts beating much harder.

"I'm so glad to see you... I missed you."

The desire to take him in your arms and kiss him was so strong that you felt dizzy. You couldn't focus on anything, not even a few words to say.

"Do you think that we... We could see each other after the race to... Talk?" he asks, moving his weight from one foot to the other.

"Okay," you say and regret it the next second.

"How stupid am I for wanting to get back together with Max after he cheated on me?" you asked Anthony.

"First of all, you're not stupid for wanting to get back with your boyfriend. Relationships are the most real things anyone can experience. We're growing while we're together. As we grow, we also go through many different behaviors in life. Behavior does not make that person. Behaviors come and go as we grow into who we are. No one is perfect. You cannot name one person you know to be 100% perfect, right?" you shake your head and he continues. "We all grow organically, and the best thing about being in a relationship is that you get to watch each other grow. You get to experience the person you care about to develop. Relationships are like walking through a door that you don't know what's on the other side. But you go through the door without any fear, doubt, or unbelief. Relationships are the livest-realest- life experience. He is a man. A man can only love once or twice. Just because Max has sex with a woman, doesn't mean he loves her. He just wanted to get his rocks off for a moment. When it is all said and done, he loves you. It may sound strange but just think of all the men you knew. Think about all the relationships you knew about. Think those who have been together for years on out. So, no you're not stupid for wanting to embrace your boyfriend's "only temporary behavior". You're smart for wanting to have the courage to walk through the next door. You're smart for being optimistic and knowing that things will get better with time. You realize the importance of maintaining a companion."

You blink several times.

"Why do I feel like you've practiced this speech in front of the mirror several times?"

He laughs and runs his arm over your shoulder.

"Maybe because that's what I did?"

You laugh and you hug him.

"Thank you for being my friend. So you're saying I should give Max another chance?"

"You don't have to give him a chance if you don't want to. But listen to your heart. Don't just do it because I'm saying so because you might regret it and you'll blame me. If you want to give him another chance, just do it. He's not the kind of man to cheat. I don't know what was on his mind when he did it with Kelly. But something tells me he regrets what he did and he will never cheat again."

"Hey, can we talk now?"

"Sure. Congrats on the win!"

"Yeah, thanks."

You both went to his room to talk. You were scared and your palms were sweating. You didn't want to start the conversation because you had different scenarios in mind, all different, depending on what Max would tell you the first time. You swallowed hard when you entered his room. The last time you were there, you two broke up.

“I’m truly sorry for hurting you.” he started saying after he closed the door behind you. "I care for you more than anything. I’m deeply sorry for hurting you… Hurting you is the most painful thing I have ever done. With a bruised heart and a deflated ego, with a sad soul and a head hung low, I apologize to you. An apology is nothing to what I’ve done; but still, I know you have a forgiving and understanding heart and won’t let resentment destroy our love. I have shown you what an idiot I can be by making that mistake. Now it is your turn to show me what a darling you can be by giving your anger a break. Without you I feel lonely, I never want to lose you in my life. I am sorry and I’ll work hard on changing my behavior. I know that I caused you a lot of pain. Whatever happens, remember that I am the guy, who will always be there for you in good and bad times. I know you’re angry now, but I want you to know that I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry for hurting you. I am ready to make amends. If I could, I would have wiped your memories about all the terrible things that I have caused you, but all I can do is to promise you that I’ll create only happy memories for you. I hope when you feel ready you can forgive me."

His words took you by surprise. You knew he would try to apologize, but in your mind, you weren't crying. You knew before you came to the room with him that you would forgive him.

"I forgive you. To be honest, I think I forgave you before we broke up but my ego was hurt and I couldn't forgive you so quickly. What you did was horrible and I hated you for so many months for making me feel so small and insignificant. But I love you. And I want to give ourselves another chance."

tag: hellolipoops, taina-eny

[ange1s]

cherry emoji - mark lee

synopsis: in which mark asks to see your boobs, and the idea you had of your relationship is thrown up in the air.

wc: 3.6k

genre: this is so fluffy it hurts, some angst but nothing crazy

tw: suggestive themes (boobs), swearing

playlist: pluto projector by rex orange county, ivy by frank ocean, tapestry by bruno major

a/n: guess whos back ,, back again ,,, ange1s back ,,, tell a friend,,,, also this is unedited so i'm sorry if theres a mistake :')

my anon asks are open !! feel free to ask me anything or request something <3

“i have a weird question.” mark says timidly. you’re sat on the floor, your back against his bed playing a rhythm game on your phone. he is sat at his desk, parallel to his bed, but with the rolling chair swivelled around to face you straight ahead. you don’t look up.

“hmm.” you hum, focused on the game.

mark swallows. “can i see your boobs?”

you drop your phone into your lap, forgetting about the game. you look up at him, straight into his eyes, and you giggle.

“wait, what?”

mark avoids your eyes almost fearfully, as if you were a detective questioning him for a crime. “can i see your boobs?” softer, this time.

you let out a shallow laugh. “don’t you watch porn? there are boobs there.”

mark blushes. “no! i mean, yes i do, but not real boobs.”

you cross your arms under your boobs on purpose, just to push them up a little higher to drive him nuts. mark sits back in his chair in frustration.

“so you think women aren’t real? that all boobs in porn are fake? jeez mark i thought you cared about women-“

“no! that’s not what i meant!” he says, exasperated. he continues to avoid eye contact with you. “of course i don’t think-“

you laugh again, keeling over. “relax mark, i know you don’t think all women are plastic.”

“look, there’s nothing wrong with being plastic, women can do whatever they-“ mark speaks quickly and nervously as if he were on trial.

“shut up minhyung,” you cut him off with a softer, more serious tone. “why do you want to see my boobs? you’re famous and cute. you could instantly find boobs wherever you go.”

he chuckles. “the word boob is so funny.”

“not the point, minhyung!”

he leans back over, the embarrassment slowly washing away. “stop calling me minhyung!”

“never, minhyung!” you retort without even thinking. you stand up to sit on his bed, now at eye level with him. “now, explain.”

“i… i dunno. i’ve just never seen boobs before. like, in person.”

you look directly at him, brain not even thinking anymore. words just fly out of your mouth with ease. “were you breastfed?”

“y/n!” he exclaims out of frustration. the embarrassment fizzles back in. he throws his head to the back of his chair and covers his eyes with his palm dramatically. he runs his hand down his face, tugging on the soft skin as it travels down. as his hand makes it back down to his lap, you giggle a little louder. “my mom’s boobs don’t fucking count. god, you made me think of my mom’s boobs. what the fuck?”

“sorry,” you manage in between giggles. “sorry, this is so funny.”

“this is impossible. i knew i shouldn’t have asked you.” mark pulls himself out of the chair and heads for the door, but you’re just as fast as him.

“now wait…” you grab his wrist to keep him from leaving. a wave of guilt washes over you. “i was just kidding.”

“were you? you didn’t sound like you were.” he says, his face still turned away from yours.

he sounds strangely hurt. “mark, are you okay?”

mark turns to face you and he looks defeated. he slumps down on the floor next to you, his knees up near his chest and his head in his hands.

“mark…”

“they were making fun of me.”

“who?”

“my friends! they were making fun of me. god, i sound like such an idiot now, whining about my friends like this, oh my god. i sound like a child.”

you rest your elbow on his shoulder giving your hand access to run through his soft, black hair. “you don’t sound like a child. you’re allowed to get upset.”

you take note at how the air shifted in the room. how quickly you focused and listened. you’re only like this around mark. with him, conversations can shift in an instant to anything. you understand each other on a deep, personal level. it’s something you don’t think you’ll ever have with another person for your entire life. maybe your soulmate. honestly? you can only dream to have this sort of connection with your soulmate, a connection so alive and so full of trust. is it even possible to have this with someone else? the fact that mark can make you think about how much he trusts you during a conversation about boobs is something only mark can make you feel. no one else. just him.

has it always been just him?

“it’s so stupid though. one minute lucas is bugging me about the fact that i’m a virgin and i’ve never seen boobs before and the next minute i’m on the floor of my bedroom with you, still not having seen any boobs mind you, nearly crying. damn. this is the lowest point i will ever reach.”

you push his hands away from his face and place your hands on his cheeks instead. “mark, please don’t cry. i hate it when you cry.”

the last time you saw mark cry was a month ago after watching a disney movie. seeing him cry just makes you cry, and since you were already crying, you just cried harder. seeing you cry makes him cry too, so he cried harder as well. the two of you just cried together until your heads hurt, to which you both took tylenols and tried to dance it off.

“i’m pathetic. insecure and pathetic.”

this is when you realize that there is more depth to his feelings than you thought.

“look, mark, i’ll show you my boobs. i trust you. i’m honestly surprised you haven’t seen them accidentally yet since i’ve known you for so long.” you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. didn‘t work. “but i get the feeling that there’s more to this then just boobs.”

mark never really vented to you like this before. despite how close you are, he still kept things from you growing up, as a teenage boy does. you never took offense to this, as you kept plenty from him too. he never quite talked about his insecurities, his fears. he didn’t want to burden you with them. mark, so sweet and thoughtful. maybe too much for his own good. he needs to learn to share things.

he's starting to, though.

it takes him a while to speak, avoiding your eyes entirely. he speaks lowly, as if he was scared to tell the world what he was about to say.

“it’s just… everything about this sucks. everything. i’m kinda scared to tell you things, which can make us drift apart because we lose trust. then again, if i do tell you things, i’m scared it’ll freak you out and i’ll lose you. those are both bad endings. then, i’m scared to put myself out into the world. like, lucas is telling me to just find someone. go out, ask for a number, have a good time, live like someone in their 20s should be living. i can’t really do it though. every time i try, i choke. lucas once tried to set me up, you remember that, right?”

“yeah, that was the girl who stood you up.”

“yeah. it’s awful. every time i try it fails. i’ve been trying to get to the bottom of why it fails every single time but i just couldn’t. but then, i realized.” he shifts and faces you causing your hands to fall off his face and into your lap. “when i came home after being stood up, i wasn’t sad. i forgot the moment i left the restaurant. i texted lucas that the date didn’t happen and just shut my phone off and went to your place. i wasn’t sad because i knew i had you. i knew that you were going to make me feel better and that made it all go away.” he pauses. “you know? sometimes i get worried that i put too much on you. you’re my happiness, my relaxation, my joy. i worry sometimes that you’ll suffocate because i take so much from being with you. i keep this in the back of my head all the time because i just don’t want you to go. ever.”

holy shit.

“mark…”

“let me finish. i talked about this with lucas, and he told me that i can let myself be selfish sometimes. he said that i can want this that… that i can want you. i can think about you and how you make me happy and i can want that happiness yesterday, today, and tomorrow, and the day after. shit, i care about you more than anything. my heart swells and my stomach gets all these annoying little butterflies when i think of you. it’s fucking crazy. and now, today, here i am. you know, lucas, jaemin and i were talking about girls and boobs and fuck i don’t know, jaemin said that i just had to get that intimacy with someone. and it just fucking clicked. the only person i want to be intimate with is you and i’m thinking now that maybe i was stupid for asking to see your boobs. which is so stupid, i could’ve just asked to kiss you or share a bed with you or i don’t know. i’m really sorry if that was gross of me. i just wasn’t thinking. it’s so damn hard to think straight when it comes to you. i just really want to be closer to you, however that might be.”

your heart races at a speed that doctors would deem impossible. you don’t know what to think or where to look. you feel like you’re going to explode. though, if you explode, he’ll probably explode too. that wouldn’t be good.

mark looks down. he fills with regret. he doesn’t think he should've said that. maybe you'll hate him now. maybe you’ve never felt this way about him before.

you inhale slowly, trying to convince your lungs that breathing is normal and not something that can just stop when hearing speeches like this.

what is the proper thing to say? mark i love you? but do you love him? everything is so confusing right now. of course you love him, but you never considered love in this way. can i kiss you? too forward? but he wants intimacy, and you want it too. i feel the same way? boring. you can do better. mark, and his way with words. so beautiful. how do you compete? mark, you’re beautiful. mark is so beautiful. you try so hard to compose the words. maybe too hard. maybe it’s okay to go with option 3.

now, they just flow out. “mark… i think i feel the same way you do. i don’t know it’s just- i’ve always felt some sort of way toward you. something is so special about you. i spent years trying to decipher it, thinking it was just something platonic or brotherly or i dunno. i just never considered… this. i don’t even know what to call this. but it feels right. you’ve always felt right.”

he has. and he always will. he looks at you so lovingly, his enamoured gaze stuck on you. you can’t look up at him, but he watches you.

you continue. “fuck, i don’t know what to say. i’m so… god.” you run your fingers through your hair, as if to comb your brain in search for the right words. “i think you’re so beautiful. everything about you. and i’m so fucking grateful to have someone as amazing as you in my life. i don’t know what i did to deserve someone like you, and i feel like i really don’t deserve you. but it feels right. to be with you. to be alone with you. it’s just right.”

you let a little tear trickle down your cheek. you know if you look up at him, you’ll probably cry harder. you know this well, yet you look up.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve you either.” mark sighs. it’s his turn to wipe your tears now.

“so… what is this? what… are we?” you ask, melting into his hand, which somehow feels softer on your face.

“i don’t know. we can be whatever you want us to be.”

you playfully punch his shoulder, his hands sliding off your cheeks. “come on, you know i hate it when you say that.”

he gets defensive. “and you know i hate it when you hit me! you have a strong hand, yanno? shit!”

you laugh at him, clearing the last unwanted tear off your cheek with the pad of your thumb. “what can i say? gained strength from all those pillow fights over the years.”

“yeah, pillow fights i won.”

“shut up! you know i won the one at jeno’s party!”

mark laughs aloud. your favourite sound. “yeah, because everyone was drunk and you were still on your second drink. it was a very unevenly matched fight!”

“i still won!” you cross your arms and sit up straight as if you assert dominance over the conversation. who are you kidding? it’s all a joke anyways.

you crack after a moment and both of you erupt in a fit of giggles. his head falls into the crook of your neck, and it feels right. it’s almost as if your skin buzzed. you don’t know why, he’s done this many times before. but now, it’s different. the air has shifted again, so quickly. only with mark.

when he comes off of your neck, you stand up. you walk up to the door of his room, and lock it.

“y/n, what-“

you sit on his bed. “can’t have someone walk in while you’re ogling at my boobs, right? i know you and you’d never be able to live that down.”

mark is quick to stand up in defence. “what? no, we don’t have to do that anymore. i said my piece and im over the boob thing and-“

“shut up mark. you know you want to. and i kinda wanna show you too.”

he sits down on the bed across from you without another word but before either of you can move, he speaks again. “wait, kinda? please don’t feel obligated. only do this if you’re-“

“minhyung, please! i want to, ok? i really appreciate how you’re taking care of me but it’s fine. i trust you, and you trust me, right?”

he swallows hard. “right.”

“okay, perfect.” you pull your shirt off over your head, leaving you in your bra. if this was with any other boy, you’d be self conscious about literally everything: the bra you chose, the shape of your body, the hair in the places you let grow out. with mark, none of it matters now. he’s seen you in bathing suits before, this isn’t much different. and knowing how much he cares for you anyways, you know his head is clouded with praise and nothing less. his brain is working so fast right now, he probably won’t even register any imperfections.

“can i take your bra off?” mark sputters out as if he were holding onto the words for hours. “or wait, fuck-“

“yes, you can.”

he is almost shocked at your answer, and it shows. mark’s hands move slowly, his skin slightly cold as he grazes your skin. he leans in unbelievably close to wrap his arms around you to reach your back. he feels your breath on his chin, and your beautiful eyes look so sweet as you look up at him. when he finds the clasp, he kisses your nose as he pulls away, your bra coming back with him. you straighten your arms so the straps fall right off, showing your boobs.

mark is shocked. flabbergasted, even. his jaw almost drops in a shameless, teenaged boy way.

“dang. they’re so cute.”

you scoff. “cute? first boobs of your life and all you have to say is cute?”

“well what else can i say? i am not very well versed in the vast vocabulary that exists to describe your boobs.” he chuckles. “jeez, why is the word boob so fucking funny?”

you can’t help but smile timidly alongside him. that is what mark does, he makes you feel safe no matter what the situation. mark is always worried about you, worried if you are feeling comfortable and if you are okay with what is going on. he never wants things to be tense when you are around, because he hates to see you upset.

right now, you are the opposite of upset.

“y/n,” he brings your attention back to him. you hum in response. “can i touch?”

you freeze for a moment, and nod timidly. mark scoots a little bit closer, and reaches out with his right hand to gently cup your left breast. his hand is warm, and your skin needs a second to adjust to his temperature. he squeezes the flesh in the absolute slightest way, and quickly brings his hand back. he laughs almost exasperated.

“oh my god, it’s squishy? boobs are squishy?! why did that never register in my head?” he laughs loudly, as if he had just discovered something monumental.

“you’re just finding out now? oh my god mark, that’s common knowledge!”

mark looks down, his cheeks red from laughing. “dang, i’m so touch starved that i never knew until now that boobs are squishy. insanity.”

“the more you bring it up, the sadder it gets.” you reply.

he looks up at you with scrunched eyebrows. “don’t be mean. can i touch again?”

“yes, you can.”

mark cups your left boob with his right hand again, this time running his thumb softly over the supple skin. he doesn’t know what his limits are yet. can he go further? can he touch other parts of your boobs? can he touch other parts of your body? he is scared of going too fast and scaring you. mark is doing his very best today to be as careful as possible, as this is probably, remarkably, the best day of his life so far.

he pushes his index finger into your boob gently to poke it, and you laugh softly. at this point, you are just looking down at mark’s hand on your body. honestly, the fact that he isn’t doing anything is almost relaxing.

you look at how slowly his finger moves, like your skin is made up of the most delicate material in the world. he holds you with such care, such control. it is a feeling you want to feel again, and again, and again.

mark inhales slowly. he wants to go further. he wants more. he doesn’t know how you feel yet, but he will wait for you every step of the way.

but just as he opens his mouth, he hears a thud on his door. “mark hyung, we’re home! is y/n here? come eat with us!”

you both jump, as jaemin’s loud voice destroys the entire atmosphere. mark turns a cute shade of pink almost immediately, and takes his hand off of your skin. you are surprised at first, but lose all tension as you watch mark’s reaction. the poor boy is so embarrassed, but even more upset at how shortly your time was cut off. you laugh as he grabs your bra and tries to put it back on you. unfortunately, he cannot figure out how to close the back shut.

“i’m here! we’ll be there in a sec.” you shout, sparing mark from saying something stupid. you clip your bra straps together, and pull your shirt back on.

mark looks upset. “i’m so sorry they cut us off. they were supposed to be out all day, fuck. i’m sorry-”

“mark, baby, it’s okay. you didn’t know. besides, this isn’t ending here.”

mark looks up at you. “baby?”

“oh gosh, i don’t know where that came from. i’m sorry.”

“no no, its cute. i like it. baby. it just…”

“makes sense?”

he nods. “yeah. this makes sense. it really does.”

mark’s heart pounds in his chest as he takes your hands in his. today, they feel softer, warmer. he inhales sharply once again, hoping this time jaemin doesn’t break his door down, or something of the sort.

his thumb does the thing again, rubbing your skin gently. “y/n, i don’t want to be friends anymore. i think we are more than friends.”

you smile. “i do too. this makes sense.”

mark feels like he is going to explode. that would be bad though, because if he exploded, you would too. that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

“so i guess you’re my girlfriend now.”

you giggle softly. “that sounds so much better than best friend.”

“dang, it kinda does, doesn’t it?”

you let go of his hands and climb off his bed. he follows instantly after you do. right before you go to unlock the door, mark takes your hand once again, and turns you to face him.

you heart races as you lock eyes with him. you cannot believe everything that happened today. how your best friend, who you’d known for your whole life, confessed everything he felt for you, and poked your boobs mere minutes after. and that’s okay, because that’s mark. your mark.

“do we have to go down? i really want to see your boobs again.”

you lean over and place a kiss on his cheek, which causes him to lose his train of thought completely. “you’ll see them again soon, i promise. but if we don’t go down, jaemin will come upstairs and try opening your door. you know him, he’ll freak out when he sees that it’s locked. we’d get found out before we even have a chance to start.”

mark sighs. “fine. no more boobs today. guess i’ll just have to suffer without your boobs in my hands. shit, how am i going to survive?”

you unlock the door, and twist the handle. “well baby, i guess you’ll have to figure it out.”

[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright - Part Fourteen

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN:  okay so this is where the denouement makes everyone extremely mad at me, but oh well, i couldn’t make it easy for you now could i ;)

Warnings: angst, language

MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART FOURTEEN

It was two days after Loki and you had confirmed that you’d be leaving - more like running away - on Friday. Loki said he’d bring you across the world, wherever you wished, and had offered outer space travel only if you felt safe. Albeit, space travel with Loki sounded fun, you weren’t truly there yet.

He came by, spending a few hours, but leaving in the wee hours of morning to prepare for your departure. Securing flights and drivers and new identities and all. 

How you trusted him so completely without knowing him more than a handful of days, you had no idea. Maybe the two years of agony you’d spent away from him? The sudden reappearance and the way your world seemed to shift into focus when he was around? Whatever it was that made you trust the God of Mischief and Lies, it was sure as hell potent. 

You were all packed now. You had bags full of jeans and underwear and shoes and cosmetics. He’d instructed you only to bring the necessities, but it seemed like you were scared to run out of L’OREAL mascara.  

Loki had mentioned sandy beaches and hot tropics, and you’d mentioned forests and mountain sides. Wherever your haven was, you knew it would be home simply by Loki’s presence. 

The buzzer sounded and it brought you out of your reverie of the future, jarring you back to the reality where you still had to wait a few more days. 

You went to the buzzer. “Who is it”? you asked.

“It’s Bruce!”

Your heart rattled in your chest. 

“I brought fish and chips!” He sounded genuinely happy, the normal brother to come and drop off food when he knows his baby sister is off work. Because he knew you were lonely.

Well, not so lonely anymore, but Bruce didn’t know that. 

You buzzed him up, closing you bedroom door so he wouldn’t see your packed bags. 

You tried to look natural. What was natural for you anyway? Sad. Bored. Monosyllabic. 

Bruce walked in holding two cardboard boxes filled with greasy newspaper, handing it off to you while he took off his jacket. “You look well!” he said, mouth in a wide grin. He saw the effects of you being near your soulmate. He could see the glow of your skin, your eyes wide and awake, your smile real. 

He thought you were just getting over Loki. 

“I’m fine,” you said with a corner smile, bringing the food to the kitchen. 

“I’m just going to use the bathroom real quick,” he said, galloping off. 

You took the food out of the wrapping, settling it in dishes, the smell warm and tasty. You took out two glass bottles of Perrier and put metal straws, topping off your presentation with utensils. 

Bruce came out of the bathroom with a frown. “Why is your bathroom empty?” he asked. 

You could feel your heart dropping, but you schooled your features.

“I did a huge clean up and I put everything in my room,” you said, turning and pretending to store some glasses in the cupboard. “Must have just forgotten to put them all back.”

When you turned to face your brother, he was nodding, but that PhD brain was working; you could practically see the wheels turning in his brain. 

You sat at the counter, your elbow brushing his. “How was your week?” you asked, mostly to distract him. If he pondered too long, he just might come to the right conclusion.

But everyone thought Loki was dead, right? 

You swallowed thickly, suddenly unable to indulge in the food your mouth had watered over just a few seconds ago.

“Yeah,” Bruce said, shaking his head, taking a seat beside you. “It was... intriguing.”

“How so?” You dug into your fries, trying to be as normal as ever, glad the conversation was erring away from your empty bathroom. 

“Tony’s been trying to build this AI,” Bruce started, toying around with his fries. “He’s asked me to join him.”

Your brows raised and you just hoped you weren’t displaying too much emotion to put him off. “That sounds awesome.”

Bruce shrugged. “It’s a project.”

You both ate your food in quiet chitchat. Bruce indulged you in Tony’s new plan, on the ongoings of the Avengers, and how many schools had begged to get Bruce in on the staff. You had nothing as flamboyant as that, but you told him about your work and where you’d stopped to get coffee at a new place around the corner.

You absolutely ignored the nagging, tall and dark presence in the back of your mind.

Bruce left rather quickly, claiming he wanted to get back to Tony. You found it a little strange the way he scurried out of your apartment, barely remembering his jacket. You chalked it up to good old Bruce and his anxiety.

You clean up the place, making sure to put everything back in its place. You didn’t want to leave rotting dishes for whoever it was to find you missing. 

You felt strange, as if your encounter with your brother was more. As if the world was telling you something. Maybe you should have said a sort of goodbye? No. Bruce was way too smart. He would have seen you coming and he’d have asked all the right questions to get you to spill. 

Maybe it was just that you were leaving in a few days, for a long time, and that this was quite possibly the last time you’d ever see your brother. You hadn’t even hugged him. He’d just scurried out like there was a fire in his pants. 

You’d written him a goodbye letter that you’d planned on leaving under your pillow the night you left. It was filled with reasons why he shouldn’t come after you, mainly that you were happy. 

Because you were! Loki settled all the storms raging in your veins. He quieted the winds and soothed the seas. His presence was like slipping into well fitting gloves. It was meant to be. And you’d be damned if they wouldn’t let you be with the only man you wanted to be with. 

Loki walked in as you were staring out the window. The door clicked shut just as his arms encircled your waist, warm and steady. His nose pressed into the curve of your neck, and his scent invaded your senses. He was a solid block at your back, making your heart beat erratic in your chest. 

“You’ve been worrying,” he said, his voice rough. 

The way he knew you so well was sometimes worrisome. 

“Bruce has been here.”

“Ah.” He pulled away, putting his hands on your shoulders and spinning you until he was the one with his back to the window. “Was it goodbye?”

You nodded. “I didn’t say goodbye, like you said,” you answered, feeling the thickness of emotion rising in your throat. “But it was quite possibly the last time I see him.”

Loki smoothed his hands onto your cheeks, using his thumb to wipe the wet corners of your eyes. “For a while,” he said, his voice a whisper. “I promise you will see him again.”

“He was acting to strange too,” you said. “He was talking about his new project with Tony and all, and I just chalked it up to his anxiety, but it was weird the way he left.”

You felt Loki stiffen, his eyes hardening as he bore his stare into yours. “What did he say?” he asked, a muscle in his jaw ticking. 

You looked up at him, frowning, trying to read into his mind, but like always, Loki’s inner monologue was but a mystery to you. 

“Something about an AI,” you answered. “Or whatever. But he left a while ago.”

Loki seemed to ponder for an instant, but his entire body was rigid under your fingers. 

“Did he leave anything behind?” he asked, and he pulled away from you, walking to your kitchen. 

“No,” you said, putting your hands in your back pockets. “He left his food but I threw that away. No leftovers for you.” Your weak attempt at humor didn’t even make Loki laugh. 

He went to the counter where you and Bruce had sat, passing his index on the countertop. He was frowning deeply, black curls pushed messily behind his ears. You took a good look at him then, his dark blue sweater and black slacks, the way the colors made him look cold but you, of all people, knew intimately the warmth of his flesh. 

“What is it?” you asked, watching him skim the surface of the stools, brows pulled in concentration.

Then his hand flexed and he stopped. He bent slowly, passing his hand under the counter. When he straightened back up, he was holding what looked to be a little aluminum ball. 

“Dust?” you asked, taking a few steps forward.

“Shit.” His shoulders tensed and he crushed the little ball between his index and his thumb. “Microphone.”

The word seemed to buzz all over your skin, making your heart throb painfully against your throat. “What?” It was a whisper and you froze, watching the way Loki looked back over your shoulder to the window, throwing the crushed device to the floor.

“We must leave at once,” he said, springing into action. He left you standing like a statue in the kitchen as he ran for your room, throwing the door open. You heard him shuffling about, grabbing a few bags and then hurrying back. He shoved a bag strap into your hand. “Y/N.” He shook you slightly, his gaze darting from your face to the window. “We must lave right now. They know.”

You grabbed onto the strap, but your grasp was weak. Your knees felt like jell-o. 

“I don’t have the Tesseract,” Loki said, grabbing your free hand and hauling you towards the door. “So we must get to the plane. Are you listening?”

You nodded, but his words were just that - words. They occupied the space between the both of you, and as he hauled you out into the corridor, the world shifted to a blur.

You both tumbled down the stairs, you gripping onto his hand, him looking back every so often to make sure you were alright. At the bottom of the staircase, he took you by the jaw and kissed you harshly. The wind was knocked from your lungs and you clung to him so desperately. 

“I will never leave you,” he panted against your mouth. “Never again.”

That promise returned the fire to your limbs, the air to your lungs, and you nodded, giving him a determined look. “I’m with you,” you whispered, and he smirked, bringing his mouth back down to yours for another breathtaking kiss. 

“I’m with you,” he uttered, grabbing your hand once more and pushing open the door, daylight seeping in. 

You tumbled onto the sidewalk and halted. 

There was a man standing there, leaning against a car, arms crossed over his chest.

Bruce. 

MORE SMEXY TIMES IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! Any ideas where this is going? I’m telling you, this looks hopelessssssss ;)

Tags:  @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki @holaamishamigos @palegoopbearlight @heyarely16 @pleaseexecuteme @athalahild @help-i-need-a-social-life @tapismyforte @coloursforyourportrait @celestialstarshadow @fukyouthink @lust-for-pan @thic-thor @winchescumberholland @morganmofresh @dazedkrosupreme @postsbyjenipeo  @copper-boom @jesuswasnotawhiteman

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Star-Crossed

Summary: Virgil has known since he was little that some day he's supposed to meet his soulmate and fall in love with them.  You're supposed to date, then fall in love, and eventually ride off into the sunset to the sound of wedding bells and a happy life in front of you.  You're supposed to look forward to meeting your soulmate.  You're supposed to plan your life around them, because you're supposed to want to.

He's not sure what exactly you're supposed to do when someone else gets there first.

There’s a way these things work, Virgil knows.  Of course, everyone’s story is different, because people aren’t made with perfect cookie cutters.  But there’s a general way that these things work.  It involves meeting your soulmate, getting to know them, dating and falling in love, ending with a wedding at an appropriate age.  You’re supposed to be tailor made for each other, your love story written in the stars, to the point where communication is easy and problems aren’t hard to overcome.  Now, that’s of course not how it always works in real life, because people are complicated and problems can be just that.  But it’s supposed to be relatively easy to ride the wave to your happy ending, wedding bells and cheers and riding off into the sunset.

For most of his life, Virgil had craved that ease.  Relationships that didn’t come pre-packaged for success were hard, and he wasn’t very good at them.  It took him until eleventh grade to make any friends.  But even when he did, they were proof that soulmates made everything easier.

Roman, Patton, and Logan had the kind of soulmate story people dream about.  The three of them had been best friends since childhood and started dating in their early teens.  They’d had their general share of problems throughout the years, but overall they were good.  Their story made them popular too, and Virgil couldn’t imagine why they’d taken him under their wing, but here he was.

With popularity-by-association came pressure, though, and Virgil couldn’t name the number of times he’d panicked about what would happen if he didn’t live up to the soulmate story of his friends.  It was what they expected of him, in the way that they never said outright, but Virgil could tell they were thinking it.  He knew for a fact it’s what his parents expected of him, as unlike his friends, they had said it outright.  He wondered why exactly they felt the need to make that clear.  Did they know something?

Because in the end, that was the point, wasn’t it.  Nowhere in the general “way these things work”  did your soulmate story allow you to be here, in your crumbling backyard treehouse, wrapped in the arms of someone you love but shouldn’t as they kissed your damn brains out.

Virgil couldn’t give an exact name for what he and Janus were.  They weren’t quite dating, but they definitely weren’t just friends, if the way Janus’ hand was tangled up in his hair and pulling him closer had anything to say about it.  He did know that Janus made him feel alive, in a way he’d never quite gotten from anywhere else.  He wouldn’t trade Patton, Logan, and Roman for anything, but there were times the expectations they came with made him terrified.  His parents made him feel more trapped than anything else, though he didn’t think that’s what they intended.  But here, with Janus, he felt like the world could burn, and as long as he had Janus there with him, he would be perfectly content to just watch.

Virgil shifted enough to see the outside of the treehouse, and pulled his head up slightly.  “Janus,” he murmured.

“What, I’m busy,” Janus murmured back, shifting his lips on Virgil’s neck.  Virgil gasped and pulled in a breath.

“Janus,” he said again, though his voice sounded significantly higher than a second ago.  “The sun’s rising.”

“Oh, my, alert the media,” Janus said, moving up from his neck to capture Virgil’s lips again.

Virgil pulled back.  “You can’t keep kissing me to shut me up,” he said.

“But it works so well,” Janus crowed, leaning back in.

“Janus,” Virgil groaned, but wrapped his arms around him anyway, letting them both move back slowly onto the floor.

“You have to go, you know,” he murmured in a moment he pulled back to breathe.

“Mmm, I can’t convince you to stay just another half hour?”  He kissed the corner of Virgil’s mouth and Virgil held back a whine.

“You are very persuasive,” he muttered.

“Ah, one of the many reasons you love me,” Janus said, moving to the other corner of his mouth.

“I’ll love you less if we get caught out here,” Virgil said.  “You know how early my dad gets up.”

“Really?  Getting caught during one makeout session, that’s all it takes?”  He pulled Virgil up closer to him, wrapping his arms around his back.

“Janus,” Virgil said, pushing him backwards.  “It’s not about that and you know it.”

Janus sighed, dropping his head onto Virgil’s chest.  “You ruined it with seriousness, Virgil,” he whined.

“It’s going to be ruined with a lot more seriousness if you don’t go,” Virgil said, trying to ignore the way that Janus’ lips still looked so very tempting.

Janus had to have noticed his staring, because he smirked and leaned back in.  “Yes, and it seems like you want me to leave so much,” he whispered, right before connecting their lips yet again.

Virgil heard the soft click of a lightswitch, easy to hear with nothing else going on— well, with only one other thing going on.

Virgil pushed Janus back more firmly.  “Janus,” he said.  He looked over towards the house, where the kitchen light had just come on.

Janus sighed, and laid back down on top of Virgil.  “Curse your early bird of a father.”

“Yeah, he’s the worst,” Virgil said, only half joking.  “I’ll see you on Monday, alright?”

“How ever will I last,” Janus said with a smirk, leaning in one last time and kissing Virgil much more gently, the way he did goodbyes.

Virgil returned the kiss as Janus sat them both up, and pulled back a second later.  “Text me when you get home,” he said.

“I will,” Janus agreed, moving to climb down the treehouse ladder.  Virgil watched him go for a second before leaving himself, climbing across the tree branch that led through his open window.  He made it just in time to look out his window and spot Janus leaving through the gate towards his front yard.  He paused and looked up at Virgil first, giving him a sloppy salute as if saying “There, I did what you wanted.”  Then he turned and vanished into the early morning.

Virgil smiled to himself and sank down against his windowsill.  God, he loved that idiot.

He waited until he got a text half an hour later that Janus made it home before climbing into bed.  It would still be a while before he fell asleep, though, the buzzing feeling Janus left him with made him feel too alive for that.

Not for the first time, Virgil wished that the “way these things work” was something different.

…

“I’m just saying,” Roman said, his arm looped through Logan’s as the three of them walked to class.  “That if you’re going to give students an assignment over break you deserve nothing less than death.”

“Agreed,” Virgil said.

Logan shook his head at them both in disbelief.  “We are students,” he said.  “Our entire job is to learn.  If the teachers have assignments to grade over break, shouldn’t students have something to work on too?”

“No,” Roman said.  “It’s the teachers job to grade assignments.”

“Did you miss the part where I said learning is our job?”

“I don’t see myself getting paid for this shit,” Virgil muttered.  “And I don’t want to write a whole damn essay over break.  I don’t care if ‘learning is my job’ or whatever you think.  The whole point of a break is a vacation.”

“It’s just one essay,” Logan said, raising an eyebrow.  “You can get it done and still have a vacation.”

“Logan, your ‘I can write essays in an hour’ thing is kicking in again,” Roman said.  “It takes most people longer to write an essay than it takes you.”

Virgil didn’t catch Logan’s response, having instead caught Janus’ eyes on the side of the hallway.  Janus looked at him as he passed and smirked, giving Virgil just enough time to think about how absolutely gone he was for this boy before he passed behind them.

“Virgil?”

Virgil jerked around to face Roman.  “What?”

“Don’t you agree?”

Virgil blinked.  “Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

“See!” Roman exclaimed, spinning to Logan like that won the whole argument.  Virgil was happy to help.

They both continued the argument that Virgil had lost all interest in until they reached the lunchroom, where Patton was already sitting at their usual table.

Virgil pulled his phone out as he sat down, because if he’d passed Janus… yep.

 Janus: So how are the universe’s favorite love birds doing

 Virgil rolled his eyes.

 Virgil: You don’t always have to act like you hate them you know

Janus: Excuse you?  They are the worst.  I despise them and everything they stand for

Virgil: They also happen to be the only people who actually tried being my friends

Janus: Ugh

Janus: You and your hatred of loneliness

Virgil: If you want to talk to them they wouldn’t hate it you know

Janus: And surround myself with soulmate perfection stories all the time?  Please

 Virgil sighed.  They both knew he could see right through Janus.  While Virgil now had three close friends and gained the friendliness of everyone else by association, he remembered the things that you said when you didn’t have anyone and were trying to convince yourself you were okay with that.  “As if I want to surround myself with soulmate perfection all the time” was up near the top of the list.  Virgil had said it more than a couple times himself before he realized the soulmate perfection people were actually pretty nice.

“Hey, Virgil, whatcha looking at?”

…About most things.

“Nothing,” Virgil said, putting his phone back in his bag.  “Just making notes of assignment stuff.  Roman’s right, an essay assignment over break is BS.”

“Right?” Roman said, and started launching into his complaints.  Virgil sat back in relief and listened to him start to rant, rubbing his thumb over his phone case in his pocket.

He had other reasons to hate the essay assignment.  He and Janus had been planning what to do over spring break for months.  Janus had gotten his mother’s permission to take the car and go with a friend on a couple of day trips, so long as they didn’t like, leave the state or something.  Virgil had been looking forward to going somewhere fun with Janus, exploring the places Janus had picked out, finding places to be alone… maybe pretending to be soulmates.

Virgil looked down at the name on his wrist and sighed, wishing once again that it said something other than Ethan Baker.

Virgil went through the rest of the day trying to figure out a way to finish that essay before break.  He had a week, but he had other assignments due before break.  He could probably ask Logan for help, come to think of it.  He texted Logan after school as he was heading out to Roman’s car.  Logan stayed after most days to tutor.

 Virgil: Hey, could I maybe stay after Thursday to work on my essay with you

Logan: Sure, I don’t have any tutoring on Thursday.  Try and have an outline and an argument decided on by then, okay?

Virgil: Will do

 Virgil slipped his phone back into his pocket and glanced up as he approached Roman and Patton, who were standing outside Roman’s car waiting for him.

“Sorry,” he said as he ended up in front of them.  “Trying to figure out how to get an actual break.”

“Do you have a plan?” Roman asked, getting into the driver’s seat as Patton took the passenger and Virgil got into the back.

“Yeah, I’m meeting up with Logan on Thursday to write the essay.”

“Oh, can I join?”

“You should ask, but I’m sure he won’t mind,” Patton said.  “I need a treat.  Anyone else want ice cream?”

“Sign me up,” Roman said as he started to back up.  “Jenny’s?”

“Absolutely,” Virgil agreed.  Jenny’s was their favorite ice cream place.  He wanted to find a way to take Janus some day.

Patton texted Logan to meet them there when he was done with tutoring, and then they all headed there.

Virgil grabbed his notebook once they got there and started writing down ideas for his essay in between bites of ice cream.  By the time Logan got there, he had a couple ideas to narrow down, and he pulled out his phone to text Janus.

 Virgil: You don’t have any assignments over break, do you?

Janus: Fuck no.  What monsters do you have as teachers?

Virgil: Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it handled.  Just making sure you’re ready for our trips too

…

Turns out, Janus had quite a few good spots to go to, with different goals in mind.  They went to ice rinks, outlet malls with Hot Topic, and a state park all within the same week.  The park ended up being Virgil’s favorite.  It was filled with giant rocks that people were encouraged to climb on.  They found a high up rock tucked in between trees overlooking a river, and stayed there for hours appreciating the view, and appreciating… other things.  If anyone saw them, the names on their wrists were covered, and people were much more likely to assume they were soulmates than otherwise.

It was as they were getting into the car to leave the park that Virgil turned to Janus.  “Janus?”

“Hmm?”

“We can’t pretend we’re not dating anymore, can we?”

Janus huffed a laugh.  “I don’t think we can,” he said.  “Not really.”

“Should we talk about that?”

“What part of it?”

“You know what part, Jan.”

Janus sighed.  “No, Virgil,” he said.  “I’m not going to force you to tell everyone now just because we’ve admitted we’re dating.�� Believe it or not, I like things as they are.”  He leaned over and kissed Virgil as if to make his point.  Virgil’s hands drifted to hold the sides of his face as he kissed him back.

“Hey,” Virgil murmured as Janus pulled away to breathe.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Janus replied easily, like he barely had to think about it, and Virgil pulled him closer as sparks lit inside his chest.  It was going to be awhile before they left the park.

…

“What about that hotel, we could stop there.”

“We are not stopping at a hotel, dumbass,” Virgil said, shoving Janus’ head from the side.  “These are supposed to be day trips.”

“Oh, Virgil, how could you deny me the chance to spend a night with you?” Janus asked, throwing a hand up to his forehead as if this was some huge betrayal.

“Don’t you have to be 18 to be able to buy a hotel room anyway?” Virgil pointed out, crossing his arms and smirking.

“Hmm.  Fair enough.  I know a motel a couple miles away, we could try that.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the same deal.”

“I have a fake ID in the glove box.”

“You what?” Virgil laughed, pulling open the glove box to see that Janus was right.  “Why are we going to a motel and not a hotel if you have a fake ID?”

“So what I’m hearing is we can go to a hotel!”

“Janus!” Virgil groaned, trying to stop smiling.

“What, it’s not like we have school again tomorrow.  We’re not needed anywhere.”

“Yes, well as technically true as that is, tomorrow is still the day we all meet up at Roman’s house to set up the pool and swim.”

All of the mirth faded instantly from Janus’ face.  “Oh.”

“Hey, what?” Virgil asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concern.

“Nothing.  You’re allowed to have other friends,” Janus said, sounding sincere in that.

Virgil sighed.  “Except I never get to see you as is,” he muttered.  “Right?”

“Well… yes,” Janus admitted.

Virgil reached over and grabbed Janus’ hand on top of the steering wheel.  “Come with me, then.  I’ll ask them if you can come.  I’m sure they’ll say yes.”

“Oh?  And what will you say?  ‘Hey, are you three with your perfect fairy tale story ending cool with me bringing my boyfriend that isn’t my soulmate over to your house?”

“Well of course I wouldn’t say that,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.  “I’ll probably say you’re a friend I’ve met.”

Janus sighed and shook his head.

“Janus,” Virgil said, checking to make sure no other cars were around before pulling his hand onto the middle console.  “Come with me.  You can wear a swimsuit and look hot and make me wish I could come over and kiss your face off.”

Janus gave him a look, and Virgil could see his answer before he said it.

“Maybe another time, Virgil,” he said, pulling his hand away and putting it back on the wheel.

They made the rest of the trip home in silence, and after a while Virgil leaned on the window and fell asleep.

…

“LOGAN, LOOK OUT!” was all the warning that Logan got before Roman landed right on top of him and sent them both underwater.  Virgil started swimming over to them instantly, but both heads popped out of the water before he got there, though Logan was rubbing his and looked in pain.

“Do you never look before you leap into pools?” Logan asked, glaring at Roman.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Roman said, grabbing Logan’s head and starting to look it over.  “Here, I can kiss it better.”

“That is not how medical care works,” Logan said, as Roman kissed the area of his head he’d landed on.

“Oh for goodness sake, specs, I’m being sweet.” Roman said, continuing to look his head over.  “You look okay.  You want to get out for a minute?”

“I am alright.  I think a headache is forming after that, but I don’t feel I need medical attention.”

“Medical attention?  What happened?” Patton called, emerging from the house with a platter of various snacks.

“Roman was being the idiot he usually is and leapt right on top of Logan instead of just into the water,” Virgil said, swimming back over to lean against the side of the pool.

“Oh my goodness, are you two okay?” Patton said, setting the platter down and rushing over to the side of the pool.

“We’re alright, Patton,” Logan reassured, catching Patton’s hands before they could start fluttering over him in worry.  “Neither of us are seriously injured.”

“Good,” Patton muttered, kissing Logan quickly, and then moving on to do the same for Roman.  Virgil looked away, trying not to feel bitter.  He looked over at his phone, sitting over by his clothes, and debated going over to call Janus and make him get his ass over here.

He missed his boyfriend.  How had he gotten so used to seeing him every day so quickly?

The sound of people climbing out of the pool roused his attention, and Virgil saw Patton waving him over for the snacks he’d brought.  He pushed himself out of the pool and headed over to eat them, trying to push Janus out of his mind.

“You know, I heard there was going to be a new student coming to school after break is over,” Logan said.

“Ugh, of course you care about stuff like that,” Roman said, rolling his eyes and giving Logan an endeared smile.

“No, there was something about him.  His name sounded familiar, but I’m not sure why.”

“What’s his name?” Patton asked, popping a grape in his mouth.

“Um… Ethan, I think.  Ethan Baker.”

Virgil’s blood ran cold.  “What?”

Logan glanced over at him.  “What?”

“Oh my gosh, Logan!” Roman exclaimed.  “Why didn’t you say anything?  That’s Virgil’s soulmate, you dummy!”

Logan’s confused look cleared.  “Oh, that’s why it sounded familiar,” he said.  “Well, congratulations, Virgil.  Unless it’s a different Ethan Baker, it sounds like you might get to meet your soulmate soon.”

Virgil stood up suddenly and stumbled a few steps back.

“Virgil?” Patton asked, standing up and looking concerned again.  “Are you alright?”

“Um,” Virgil said, still moving backwards.  “I—”

Roman jumped up.  “Virgil, stop, you’re going to—”

The ground disappeared from under Virgil’s feet and his heart leapt into his throat a second before he hit the water, thankfully in a deep enough part of the pool that he didn’t hit his head on anything.

Maybe he could just stay down here and never have to face the reality that Logan just presented him with.

Unfortunately, a hand reached down into the water and pulled him upwards until he was above the surface and looking at Roman’s concerned face.

“Are you alright?” Roman asked, helping him out of the pool and sitting down next to him.

Virgil yanked his hand away and wrapped his arms around himself.  “Fine,” he muttered.  “I’m fine.  Everything’s fine.”

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton said, sitting on his other side.  “I get it.”

Virgil looked over at him.

“It’s okay,” Patton said, smiling.  “Of course meeting your soulmate is scary.  I was scared when I met Roman and Logan.”

“You were a kid,” Virgil pointed out.

“And?  You’re not allowed to be scared because you’re a little older than I was?  Virgil, it’s alright.  No one is going to blame you for being scared.  You don’t even have to meet him right away if you don’t want to.”

Something in Virgil’s chest lightened at the thought.  “I don’t?”

“Well, I wouldn’t conceal it from him,” Logan said, sitting down on the other side of Patton.  “You should tell him who you are.  But if you’re not ready for a relationship or even a friendship you can tell him that.”

“I can?” Virgil asked, as his heartbeat continued to slow.

“Oh, kiddo, of course,” Patton said, grabbing Virgil’s hand and squeezing it.

“This is your soulmate, Virge,” Roman said, and Virgil glanced over at him.  “You’re matched up for a reason.  He’s going to understand if you’re not ready.  And even if things are bumpy, it’ll be alright eventually.  I mean just look at my parents.”

Virgil wasn’t sure what Roman’s parents had to do with anything.  Roman had two dads who seemed as in love as any other soulmates Virgil had ever seen.

“Just relax, Virgil,” Roman said with a smile, cutting off his thoughts.  “There’s no reason to freak out before you even meet the guy.  You don’t know what he’ll be like.  Just keep that in mind.”

Virgil leaned forward and rested his head on his knees.  “Okay,” he murmured.  “I’ll do that.”

“These things tend to work themselves out, kiddo,” Patton said.  “That’s what soulmates are all about.”

Virgil’s test tightened again.  That’s kind of what I’m afraid of.

…

“Okay, I got your frantic text,” Janus said, pulling himself up into the treehouse.  “What’s going on?  Why are we meeting tonight when school starts again tomorrow?”

Virgil was grateful in the moment that he must have looked outwardly anxious in his position of being tucked against the back wall with his arms around his knees, because otherwise Janus definitely would have made some kind of joke about him being just that irresistible.

“There’s a new student coming to school after the break,” Virgil said.  “Named Ethan Baker.”

Janus shut his eyes and let out a long, slow breath.  He clearly knew what that meant.  He moved across the treehouse and sat in front of Virgil.  “Okay.  What do you want to do then?”

“What do you mean what do I want to do?” Virgil asked, staring at him.  “Janus, I want him not to come.”

“Yeah.  I figured.  But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s coming.  So what do you want to do?”

Virgil didn’t have an answer.  He didn’t want to think about it, or have to make this decision.  He didn’t want his parents to reject him.  He didn’t want Patton and Logan and Roman to hate him.  He didn’t want to go back to being alone and friendless, and especially not while dating someone who wasn’t his soulmate.  He’d be ostracized, and even when he was lonely, he hadn’t dealt with any level of vitriol.  But the issue was that, at the same time…

He wanted Janus.  He wanted this, stolen nights in a broken down treehouse and day trips over spring break and Janus’ wit and sarcasm and hatred for all things soulmates.  He just didn’t know if that want was strong enough to override all of the things that he didn’t want.

“I want…” he said after a moment.  “I want to meet him.  Who knows, maybe he’s an asshole who can fuck right off.”

“Maybe,” Janus said, in a tone that said ‘hopefully,’ but also in a way that meant he didn’t really believe that.

“Look,” Virgil said.  “What I want is to not decide anything before I meet him.  Let’s just do things like normal.  I’ll see you here on Friday.”

Janus looked at him for a moment, and nodded.  He turned as if about to leave, and suddenly Virgil wanted to scream at him to stop.  That would have been incredibly stupid, though, so instead he reached out and grabbed Janus’ arm.

Janus turned back to face him.

“What was that you said about wanting to spend a night with me?” Virgil asked, trying on a wobbly smile.

“I meant under different circumstances,” Janus said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yes, but…” Virgil tried to figure out a way to say Don’t leave me like this without using those exact words.

Janus seemed to read it in his face.  “Okay,” he said, and he turned back around, thank god.  “But I’m not sleeping in a treehouse.”

Virgil nodded.  “Follow me,” he said, and climbed back across the branch into his bedroom, showing Janus where to put his hands and feet.

Janus dropped quietly down into the bedroom after him, and suddenly soulmates were gone from his mind, and the only thing Virgil could think about was that Janus was in his room.

When was the last time he’d cleaned up again?

Janus was smiling as he looked around.  “Wow, Virgil, you’re a regular neat freak, aren’t you?”

“Shut uuuup,” Virgil groaned, shoving his shoulder and stepping over various items as he started towards his bed.  Janus followed, and toed off his shoes at the edge.

“Here,” Virgil said, taking a short detour to his dresser and handing Janus one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants to sleep in.  He crawled into bed as Janus changed, and then joined him a minute later, wrapping his arms around his waist.  Virgil leaned back against him.

“I set an alarm so I’ll get up and leave,” Janus said.

“Okay,” Virgil murmured.  He was quiet for a minute.  “Hey Janus?”

“Hmm?”

“I still love you.”

“I love you too,” Janus whispered, kissing the top of Virgil’s head, which made Virgil feel warm in an entirely different way from how he felt after a makeout session.  He fell asleep still warm all over.

…

Virgil recognized Ethan by finding his name on his wrist, which really just felt like one more way for the universe to laugh at him.  But Logan was right.  He couldn’t just hide from Ethan the fact that he was his soulmate.  So instead, he walked up and tapped him on the shoulder, feeling like he was sealing his fate.

Which he supposed, in a way, he was.

Ethan turned with a slightly curious smile.  “Hello,” he said.

“Ethan Baker?”

Ethan nodded, looking more curious.

“Uh,” Virgil waved his wrist.  “I’m Virgil Storm.”

Ethan’s eyes widened.  “Oh.  Oh, my goodness!”

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered, trying to make his smile look happier than he felt.

“Well, hi!” Ethan said, starting to smile much wider.  “It’s so lovely to meet you, Virgil!  I never would have thought—”  The warning bell rang overhead.

“Oh, damn that thing,” Ethan muttered, looking up at it.  “I wish we had more time to talk.”

“What class do you have?” Virgil asked.

“Uh… Holden.  English.”

Virgil tried to smile wider.  “Well, I’ve got good news then.  That’s my class too.  Want to walk with me?”

“Oh, awesome!” Ethan said.  “Yes, please!  It’s so good to meet you!”

“You too,” Virgil said, falling into step beside Ethan as they started down the hallway.

Come on, Virgil.  Give the guy a chance.  Maybe this will all work out fine and he is an asshole.  Maybe he’s about to say something super dick-ish right now.  Here it comes.

Ethan beamed over at him.  “I should have known you’d be even more gorgeous than I pictured,” he said.

Goddammit.

…

Ethan wasn’t an asshole, by any stretch of the imagination.  Virgil really tried, he tried so hard to hate him.  It should be easy, he was an expert at hating people for no reason!  He tried twisting all of Ethan’s words and actions into the most despicable light he could manage.  But Ethan was just too damn sweet.

He was gentle and caring.  His smile could light up a room.  He got along perfectly with all of Virgil’s friends.  Virgil was pretty sure he tried harder than anything else he’d ever done in his life, but he just couldn’t hate him.  Why couldn’t he hate him?  Was this the universe fucking with him?  Was there some kind of genetic thing that kicked in that made people incapable of hating their soulmates?

Or was Ethan just that fucking nice?

Either way, Virgil couldn’t hate the guy.  He wanted to, but he couldn’t.  Maybe that was why he was hiding here.  Virgil looked up from the stage, glad at least that the auditorium was big as well as empty.

He just couldn’t go back to class, where everyone would be staring at him and Ethan like all of their future problems were solved now.  He buried his head in his knees.  He wanted to get out of here.

He didn’t register any kind of bell ringing, but one must have, because doors opened and people started coming in, and Virgil remembered that there were drama classes in the auditorium.  He jumped up and headed backstage, trying to control his now much worse breathing.  He’d be fine, he just had to last until everyone starting doing things and then he could—

“Virgil?”

Of course.  Of course he would be here.

“Hey,” Ethan said, coming backstage.  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Virgil shook his head.  “No,” he choked out.  “No, I don’t want—”  He yanked his hood over his head and pulled hard on the strings until his face was obscured.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me.  Just come here, alright?  People are going to be coming back here soon.”

Virgil grabbed onto his hand when it was offered because he didn’t know what else to do, and they ended up in what looked like a prop area underneath the stage.

“Hey, breathe with me, okay?  I’m gonna count to four, try and breathe in.  It’s okay if you can’t make it all the way there.”

He started doing that, and waited so damn patiently until Virgil finally managed to calm down, and the whole time he didn’t make a single sudden move, and Virgil wished that he wanted him to leave.

When Virgil was breathing normally again, Ethan just smiled gently and leaned back.  He didn’t ask a damn thing about what happened.  He just said “You okay?” in a way that meant it would be totally fine if the answer was no.

Virgil took a shaky breath and nodded.  “Thank you,” he whispered, because Ethan was good at that, and he hadn’t met another person who knew how to do anything like this before he told them.

“Of course,” Ethan said with a nod.

“How did you know what to do?” Virgil asked.

“My little sister gets panic attacks sometimes.  I wanted to learn how to help her, so I did some research.”

Virgil nodded.  “Guess that’s lucky,” he muttered.  He looked up at Ethan.  “Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you want from this?”

Ethan looked confused.  “From what?”

“Me.  What are you looking for?”

“Well, a soulmate,” Ethan said, like that should be obvious.  “I don’t want to start dating you if you’re not ready, of course, but eventually.  I— I like you, Virgil,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he started to blush.  “I’d love a relationship with you once you’re ready.”

What if I’m never ready, Virgil didn’t say.  He shut his eyes and leaned back against the wall behind him.

“Virgil,” Ethan said, and Virgil opened his eyes again.  “If you are not ready to date me, we don’t have to date yet.  Is that what you’re panicking about?”

“I… don’t know,” Virgil lied.

“I’m not going to rush you,” Ethan said, taking a small step forward.  “Or push you.  I want to move at a pace we’re both comfortable with, and if that means I have to wait, I’m okay with that.  For now, I would be more than happy to be your friend, Virgil Storm.”

Virgil looked back at his soulmate, with the universe stamp of approval.  It was the ‘for now’ part of that statement he was going to have issues with.  But then again, maybe for now… that would be fine.

…

Virgil’s entire body melted with relief when Janus appeared in the doorway of the treehouse.

“Janus,” he said, climbing up and moving across to meet him.  He started to pull Janus down into a kiss, only to be stopped by Janus pushing back a second later.

“Janus?”  He stopped moving when he noticed the look on Janus’ face.  “Janus, what’s wrong?”

“Virgil, we need to talk,” Janus said.

“Oh, hardly,” Virgil said, starting to smile.  “I have good news.  Ethan says we don’t have to date if I’m not ready.  And I’m not.  So…”  He leaned up to pull Janus down to him again.

Janus sighed and pushed him back.  “Virgil.”

Virgil stopped smiling.  “What?”

“Did you miss the not ready part of that sentence?” Janus said, sitting down across from him.  “He definitely wouldn’t be comfortable with you dating other people in the meantime.”

Virgil scowled.  “I don’t owe him anything.”

“Yes, you do.  He’s your soulmate.”

“And since when does that kind of thing matter to you?  Part of the whole damn reason you fell for me is because I’m not your soulmate.  You hate soulmates.”

“But you don’t,” Janus said, looking firmly at him.  “Virgil, I saw you with him.  You don’t hate him.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m in love with him!  I love you.”

Janus sighed.  “Virgil.”

“What?”

“You can’t possibly see yourself falling for him?  There’s no chance you could end up in love with him even more than you are with me?”

Virgil leaned back.  “What— Janus.  It’s not about that.”

“What’s it about then, Virgil?  Come on, he seems made for you.  That’s what they say soulmates are supposed to be, don’t they?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes.  “I don’t care.”

“Oh, so you don’t care about whether or not your family wants you to be with him?  Or your friends?  Or everyone else?”

Virgil winced.  “That’s different.”

“I’m not going to push you into the limelight like that, Virgil.  You seem uncomfortable now, when you’re doing what everyone expects of you.  If someone found out you were dating me, I…” Janus shook his head, looked more helpless than Virgil had ever seen him before.  “I can’t do that to you,” he finished, shifting backwards slightly.

“Don’t you think that should be my decision?” Virgil said, crossing his arms.

“Well, I’m making it.  I’m sorry.”  Janus stood up and started for the ladder.

“Wh- wait, Janus!” Virgil moved and started climbing down after him, catching his arm before he could run from the backyard.

Janus sighed, then turned and faced him.  “It’s okay,” he said.  “We’ll be okay.  Don’t try and stop yourself from falling for him, Virgil.  I won’t even be a little mad, I promise.”

“Janus, please.”  Virgil tried to pull him back, but Janus wouldn’t budge.  “What— what if I don’t see you again?”

Janus smiled sadly.  “How ever will I last,” he whispered, leaning in one last time and kissing Virgil gently.

The way he did goodbyes.

He pulled his hand out of Virgil’s and ran for the back gate, slipping through it and into the night.

…

When Virgil had no reason to try and dislike Ethan, liking him was much easier.  He was sweet, and very cute when he was excited, which tended to happen whenever he talked about theatre, which was his favorite part of school (he got along well with Roman).  He knew how to help Virgil if he was panicking, and he took an interest in the kinds of things Virgil liked.  Virgil tried so hard to return the favor, but he couldn’t make himself interested for very long.  That… that was okay.  That would change with time.

For all of Virgil’s fears about what having a soulmate would do to his relationship with Janus, now that the worst had happened, having one actually having one wasn’t so bad.  Ethan was easy to care about, and easy to spend time with, even if their interests didn’t always line up.  Virgil would fall in love with him.  He just needed a little more time.

These things worked themselves out, Patton said.  That had to be true.

Virgil’s parents were thrilled to meet Ethan.  His mom got along with him really well, and his dad seemed approving, if his smiles and nods to Virgil were anything to go by.  His mom was astounded when Ethan mentioned they weren’t dating yet.

“Why in the world not?” she asked, looking over at Virgil across the dinner table.

“It’s just… a big step,” Virgil muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” his mom said, in the way she did when she thought Virgil was being too anxious about something.  “I suppose that’s fair.  Take your time, of course.”

“It’s not just him,” Ethan said suddenly.  “I don’t want to rush things either.  We both decided to just take it slow.”

Virgil smiled gratefully at him, glad for the save. Ethan gave his hand a quick reassuring squeeze under the table.

They went up to Virgil’s room after dinner, and Ethan seemed concerned.  “Is your mom always that pushy?” he asked, as Virgil shut the door.

“She just… wants me to push myself,” he said.  “She thinks I would be more satisfied if I took more risks, went after what I want.”

“What if you don’t know what you want?” Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“And therein lies the main problem in my relationship with my mother,” Virgil sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

Ethan chuckled a little, moving to lean against the wall next to the door.

Virgil worried his lip between his teeth, and looked back at Ethan.  “You’re really okay with moving slowly?”

“Virgil, I told you,” Ethan said, smiling genuinely at him.  “I want you to be comfortable.”

“You want to be with me though,” Virgil said.

“I… do,” Ethan admitted.  “But if you’re not ready for that, I don’t want to rush you.”

Virgil looked at him a moment longer.  Ethan wasn’t bad looking.  Virgil liked him as a person.  Maybe in order to make the switch into liking him romantically, he just had to force it a little.

He took three steps across the room and kissed Ethan square on the mouth.  Ethan made a muffled noise of surprise, and Virgil pulled back instantly.  Idiot, you need to ask before doing something like that, you moron.

“I’m sorry!” Virgil said, stepping back.  “I’m sorry, I just— I—”

Ethan cut him off by reaching up and pulling him back in to kiss him again, and in the moment, all Virgil felt was relief that he hadn’t freaked him out or pissed him off.

He could do this.  He’d done this a hundred times with Janus, he just had to… go through the motions.  Come on, Virgil.  You know what you’re doing.

He pulled Ethan with him as he stumbled back across the room and pulled them both onto his bed, wrapping his arms around his back and trying to push himself a little farther.  He’d start feeling something any second now, he just needed to—

“Okay, okay, woah,” Ethan pushed him back, panting.  “I need to breathe.”

Virgil leaned back.  “Sorry.”

“Hey, no apologies necessary,” Ethan said, grinning at him.  “You… you’re very good at this.”

Virgil felt his cheeks grow warm.  “You wouldn’t guess, huh,” he muttered.

“Absolutely not a bad surprise,” Ethan said.  “It just might be my turn to ask you to slow down a tad.”

Virgil nodded.  “Okay.  You’ve got it.”  He looked down and fidgeted with his fingers.  “Want to watch a movie?”

“That sounds nice,” Ethan said, still looking very happy with the situation.  Virgil leaned over the side of his bed and grabbed his laptop as Ethan sat up.

It’s okay.  It’s okay.  You’ll fall for him.  You just need a little more time.

…

Time passed, and Virgil didn’t fall for him.  He didn’t know what else to do.  He tried to come up with something to make it better, some kind of “at least” to work off of.  At least Ethan was nice.  At least he was pretty.  At least everyone else was happy for him.  At least Janus didn’t hate him.  None of them seemed to work.

Virgil was quickly becoming the soulmate envy of all just like Patton, Roman, and Logan, and feeling absolutely miserable because of it.  He hadn’t shown it, of course.  He’d beamed at Ethan and kissed his cheek before classes and smiled and rolled his eyes in endearment whenever someone asked him how knowing his soulmate felt.

He couldn’t stand it.  He was pretty sure he’d never felt less like himself.  But Patton and Logan and Roman all smiled at him like they thought he was happy, and so did his parents, and so did Ethan, so Virgil tried to brush aside the miserable feeling in his chest and fool himself like he’d fooled everyone else.

He hadn’t expected a change to come from Roman.  With his general romanticism and his perfect soulmate story, he’d expected Roman to be the last person to be able to tell when someone wasn’t happy with theirs.  He’d noticed the occasional suspicious look sent his way by him, but he’d managed to brush it off.  He certainly hadn’t expected Roman to say anything.

On the day he did, Virgil had already been feeling pretty shitty.  It was around lunchtime, Ethan was sitting next to Virgil and smiling at him as they both ate, riveting them all with a story about what had happened during drama class.  Virgil had mastered the art of smiling and nodding along, and that’s what he was doing when he turned at just the wrong time and met eyes with Janus, who looked as miserable as Virgil felt.

His eyes widened when their gazes met, and Virgil tried to think of the last time he’d seen Janus in any way.  Janus was very good at disappearing.

As if proving his point, Janus looked away and disappeared into the crowded room like a ghost.

Virgil stood up and pushed his chair back, saying something about going to the bathroom before all but sprinting from the lunchroom.

About halfway to the bathroom he realized that was a mistake, because it was just going to make Ethan come looking for him, so he veered right to head out to the football field.  He sat on the bleachers and buried his head in his knees, trying to quiet any of his rushing thoughts.

“You are going to seriously hurt someone.”

Virgil jerked upwards and saw Roman walking up the side of the bleachers towards him, arms crossed and looking firm.

Virgil swallowed, recovering his bearings as Roman stopped in front of him.  “What?” he asked.

“Virgil, if you don’t love Ethan you need to tell him that.”

Virgil’s mouth went dry.  “What are you talking about, I do—”

“No.  You don’t.”

Virgil looked away.  “But I have to.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Virgil.  You clearly don’t.”

“But he’s my soulmate.  What… what else is there?” Virgil asked, like he didn’t know the answer to that question by heart.

Roman didn’t reply right away.

Then suddenly, Virgil was pulled up off the bleachers and into a hug.

“Oh, Virgil,” Roman whispered.  “Virgil.  There is so much more if you want it.”

Virgil blinked quickly, trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes.  “What?”

Roman leaned back.  “Virgil, what on earth made you think that all soulmate bonds have to be romantic?”

“What— but you— but they are,” Virgil insisted.  “That’s just how soulmates work.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem very fair,” Roman said, smiling gently.  “First of all, aromantic people would be shit out of luck if all soulmate bonds had to be romantic.” Roman’s look turned curious.  “I have told you about my mother before, right?”

“Your mother, what— don’t you have two dads?”

“Not always.  My mother married my father before she realized she didn’t experience romantic attraction.  She ended up divorcing dad, but they’re still close friends.  That’s how their soulmate bond works, but my dads aren’t soulmates.  And mom lives with Remus.  He and I are soulmates, but that’s definitely not romantic.”

“Who’s Remus?” Virgil asked.

“My brother,” Roman said, waving his hand dismissively.  “He and mom live a couple districts over.  He’ll come over here more often on summer vacation and you can meet him.  Point is, soulmate bonds aren’t inherently romantic, nor should they be, in my opinion.”

“But… but you’re in love with Patton and Logan,” Virgil said weakly.

“Because I choose to be, Virgil.  The three of us don’t have to be dating.  I know that’s what most people tend to do, but it’s not fair to expect that of everyone.  What if you don’t want a partner right then?  Or ever?  What if you fall in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate?”

Virgil’s blood ran cold, and he took a step back, almost stumbling into the bleachers.  “Who told you?” he whispered.

Roman’s face fell.  “Oh, Virgil,” he said.  He moved forward and pulled Virgil into a hug again.  “No one told me, Virge.  I’m so sorry.”

Virgil’s breathing started to shake, and he pushed himself back from Roman.  “I thought— I thought you wouldn’t understand,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around himself.  “Because your soulmate story is so perfect.  I thought you wouldn’t—”

“A lot of people don’t,” Roman said quietly.  “I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong for being afraid.  But right now all you’re doing is hurting Ethan, and yourself, and the other person you love.”

Virgil sat down on the bleachers and buried his head in his hands.  Roman, after a moment, sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

“I have to break up with him, don’t I,” Virgil muttered.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should do in that regard,” Roman said.  “But I think you should strongly consider telling him what’s going on.”

Virgil nodded.  “I thought I could make myself love him,” he whispered.

“Love doesn’t work like that, Virgil,” Roman whispered.

“It would be easier if it did,” Virgil muttered.

“Yes,” Roman agreed.  “But then you wouldn’t get to have the person you love now.  Is that what you want instead?”

Virgil shook his head instantly.  He hadn’t wanted to lose Janus in the first place.  He didn’t want to trade him for anything.

“Do you want to stay out here for a while?” Roman asked.

“I want you to go get Ethan,” Virgil said firmly.

Roman blinked, seeming surprised.  “Right now?”

Virgil nodded.  “Yes.”

Roman still looked hesitant.  “Are you—”

“I’m sure.”

Roman must have seen he meant it, because a second later he nodded.  “Alright.  I’ll be back.  Um, advice, don’t dance around the subject.  Be straightforward and genuine, but also gentle if you can.”

Virgil nodded.  “Okay,” he said, and Roman left.  Virgil leaned back against the bleachers and took a deep breath.  This wasn’t going to be fun.  It may not be romantic in nature, but he did love Ethan, and he didn’t want to hurt him.  He leaned forward and buried his head in his hands again.  Why had he thought this would last?

“Virgil?”

Virgil jerked upright and spun around, because that wasn’t Ethan’s voice.

Sure enough, there was Janus, standing just at the edge of the bleachers and looking concerned.

Virgil leapt to his feet.  “Where the hell have you been?” he snapped.

“I saw you run off, I wanted to make sure you’re okay—”

“Not what I meant.  You completely ignore my texts and then you avoid me at school?  You asshole.”

Janus turned his hands upwards, looking a little offended.  “What, did you want me to hang around all the time?”

“I didn’t want you to leave in the first place you idiot,” Virgil snapped, jumping down from the bleachers and storming over to stand in front of Janus.  “You were clearly miserable on your own.”

“And you were fine,” Janus said, stepping towards him.  “I was trying not to be selfish for once.”

“Oh, I was fine?” Virgil said, throwing his hands to the sky.  “Janus who’s spent most of these past months avoiding me thinks I was fine.  Never mind then.”

“I thought you wanted to do what everyone expected of you,” Janus snapped.  “It’s not like you ever wanted to fight for me.”

“Oh, fuck you, Janus!  I wanted what everyone expected of me because that made me feel safe.”

“And you don’t want that?”

“No, right now I just want to feel alive again,” Virgil said, moving forward until he was nose-to-nose with Janus.  “Which is kind of hard to do considering I’m starting to spend my whole life going through the motions.”

“Why would you need me to change that?”

“Moron,” Virgil said, and pulled Janus into a kiss, desperate and passionate and making up for all of the months he’d been gone.

They both pulled apart when a gasp came from nearby.

Virgil spun around to see Ethan standing at the edge of the walkway leading up to the field.

“Wait,” Virgil said, stepping towards him.  “Wait, that’s not how this was supposed to happen.  Ethan—”

Ethan spun around but didn’t leave, and Virgil moved across the field until he was right behind him.

“You’re never like that with me,” Ethan murmured.

“I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to be how I did this—”

“But you were going to do this.  You were going to leave me for him.  He’s not even your soulmate.”

“I know.  I… I’m sorry.  I do love you, Ethan.  Just not…”

“Not like I love you,” Ethan said, looking over his shoulder at Virgil.

Virgil winced.  “I’m sorry.”

Ethan laughed a little and looked down.  “I think I kinda knew it, you know?  I just wanted… I wanted to be enough for you.  But I was never going to be, was I?”

Virgil started to reach for him, but stopped and dropped his hand.  “I’m sorry,” he said again.  “You can… you can hate me if you want.”

Ethan looked up at him again.  “But you don’t want that.”

“Not everything has to be about what I want,” Virgil said quietly.

Ethan turned to face the school.  “I… I’m going now, Virgil,” he said.  “I’ll call you if I’m ever ready to talk again.”

“Okay,” Virgil whispered.  “Take care, Ethan.”

“You… you too,” Ethan said, and then he walked away.

Virgil watched him until he was gone, and then turned around to face Janus, who was casually looking around back in the middle of the field.  He looked back at Virgil when he started walking across to meet him.

“All good?” Janus asked, like he already knew the answer.

Virgil shook his head.  “No.”

Janus nodded.  “Yeah,” he muttered.

They both looked at each other for a moment.

“Janus?”

“Virgil?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Janus started grinning, and held out his hand.  Virgil grabbed it, and they both started running.  They made it to Janus’ car, and both got in, and drove.  And drove, and planned to drive some more.

Nothing was fixed.  They’d have to come back and face the music eventually.  Virgil had to tell Patton and Logan what happened.  He’d need to tell Janus about Roman’s parents.  They’d have to figure out a way to make this work, actually work, work in the way they both wanted.

But for now, they rolled down the windows, and drove out of the suburbs and out under the open sky.  Virgil screamed My Chemical Romance lyrics at the top of his lungs.  More than once throughout the drive he checked to make sure no other cars were around and leaned in to kiss Janus’ face off.  He had a lot of lost time to make up for, after all.

And now, hopefully, a lot of time to do it.

Part 2

[melsdreamweaving]

Oh, the glorious quest to get published! It's like deciding you want to climb Everest but realizing halfway you're just in your backyard with a really tall ladder. Since the tender age of "I can write my name," I was convinced this path was my calling. Networking? I thought it meant making friends with spiders. Persistence? My middle name (not really, but it sounds cool). Consistency? Well, let's just say my breakfast choice is as consistent as my writing schedule.

Writing? A breeze. Editing? A slightly gustier breeze, but manageable because, let's face it, perfection is a journey, not a destination. It's like telling a caterpillar to hurry up and be a butterfly already. And don't get me started on the arts and crafts analogy. Ever stared at a painting and thought, "This needs more cowbell"? That's me, questioning my artistic choices.

Ah, the dreaded imposter syndrome, the invisible gremlin whispering sweet nothings like, "You sure you're good enough?" during my most creative moments. It's like having a backseat driver in your brain during a solo road trip.

College, ah, the land of opportunity and all-you-can-eat dining halls. I decided to transform my so-called 'negative trait' into a glittering career by joining the university publishing house. Emailed the prof, and bam! Editor-in-chief. My friend compared it to vaulting from bank customer to president in a heartbeat. Imagine my pride, trying to be the humble shepherd amongst my flock of fellow club members.

But, oh, the drama. I had not anticipated the Shakespearean levels of tragedy and comedy, inspired by toxic reality TV and "Mean Girls" reruns. My generation turned the publishing club into a gladiator arena, but with more backstabbing and less physical exertion. It was less about nurturing literary talent and more about who could orchestrate the most dramatic exit. Ah, to be young and convinced everyone's out to get you, instead of just out to get your manuscript published.

The first fortnight with the publishing club was like a literary honeymoon. We were all hearts and flowers, discussing potential masterpieces and brainstorming themes that would make Shakespeare wish he had a pen pal like us. But then, as if Monday of the third week was cursed by a bored reality TV producer, she made her entrance. Let's call her Scarlet, not just for her artificially crimson hair but for the drama she was about to unleash.

Scarlet was miffed, to put it mildly. She seemed to think the editor-in-chief throne was hers by divine right, a sentiment somewhat dampened by her late arrival on the scene due to an apparently crucial vacationing spree. When we first met, and our hands awkwardly collided in what history might record as the least enthusiastic handshake, I naively thought, "Hey, maybe she's got a point." So, in a moment of misguided generosity, I offered her the crown. Big mistake.

Unbeknownst to me, Scarlet was not alone. She had a posse, a veritable velociraptor squad, if you will. It was baffling. Why crave the editor's chair so badly if you're already rolling deep with connections and subtly hinting at the professor's impending doom? And then there was her mentor, a Miami-based author with an ego so inflated he probably thought Hemingway was his pen name. Scarlet was rumored to be the poster child for nepotism, a Nepo Baby™ in the flesh, and I was about to learn what happens when a clueless "commoner" like me accidentally steps on the toes of the nepotistically privileged.

It was like being in a wildlife documentary, except the predators were armed with laptops and the ability to make you feel utterly incompetent with a mere glance. I had unwittingly entered the arena, and the games were about to begin. Welcome to the jungle, folks, where the beasts type fast and the alliances are as stable as a house of cards in a wind tunnel.

This brought about the delightful saga of dealing with a photography enthusiast whose strategy for winning affection was about as effective as using a sledgehammer for brain surgery. This charming individual seemed to believe that bombarding me with hate mail was the secret pathway to romance. It was a strategy so misguided, it made me wonder if his camera was also stuck in negative mode.

There I was, gnawing my nails down to microscopic stubs, embodying the very picture of stress-induced dysfunctionality. Picture this: juggling caretaking duties, moonlighting in a job that had me questioning my nocturnal preferences, only to waltz into academia's version of a gladiatorial arena.

The grand finale of my editorial misadventure was being relieved of my duties, courtesy of Scarlet's relentless theatrics, which apparently were too avant-garde for even our esteemed professor. "At least you didn't give up, and hey, one of your pieces got in," was the consolation offered, a band-aid on a bullet wound—until, in a plot twist worthy of a daytime soap opera, my piece was axed from the publication faster than you can say "editorial discretion."

Fast forward through a few years later to a night of poetic justice at an open mic event at my university. Lo and behold, Scarlet was there, perhaps scouting for her next victim or simply lost on her way to a more melodramatic venue. In the ladies' room, she offered a compliment on my poem, a gesture so dripping with nepotistic magnanimity, it could have watered a small garden. I acknowledged her with a nod that was as heavy with irony as it was light with forgiveness and exited stage left, grateful for the diverging paths that spared me further encounters with the queen of mean.

As Scarlet ventured into the wilderness of the music industry, presumably to charm or terrorize new audiences, I pondered the possibility of her discovering kindness. As for me, I gleaned a priceless lesson from the school of hard knocks: when faced with bullies, standing silent is not an option. Next time, I'll be ready to turn the microphone into a megaphone for justice, because sometimes, the pen (or the spoken word) truly is mightier than the sword—or the camera, in this case.

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

⤷ chapter nineteen: when it's too late

previous < masterpost > next

YN'S POV

ATSUMU'S POV

TWO DAYS LATER...

[THE FOUR IDIOTS’ APARTMENT, 6:55PM]

Kiyoomi only watched as your eyes became melancholier, as if it were not already in the first place, the longer you stared at the screen of his phone. Probably rereading his conversation with Atsumu, he thinks. Initially, he wasn’t really planning on showing it to you but just like any other day, you decided to be the whipped soulmate (or more like an idiot, at least to him) you were, all while saying “Atsumu is important to me, should I really leave this apartment while not making amends with him?” He almost retched, is this girl really fixated on becoming a saint? How could someone be this lenient? He has no idea. And so, he showed you– that even after all this time, the piss-haired boy will remain as he is; that no matter how many years may pass, Miya Atsumu will be Miya Atsumu.

And he was the exact opposite of you: he was self-centered, conceited, prideful, juvenile, and so many more that it would take Kiyoomi more than a day to list all the things he detested from the boy. He can only remember how much he loathed the boy upon their first proper meeting; not that he likes meeting new people anyway. Kiyoomi was no genius but he knew, right at that moment, that Atsumu was far from being the ‘knight-in-shining-armor’ soulmate his dearest sister was so engrossed to have.

Kiyoomi also knew that he was not the best brother in the world; hell, he is way too far from being a good one even. He couldn’t care less if you have an admirer from afar (like that Iwaizumi who seems to be around you all the time these days), nor when you finally get yourself a suitable boyfriend, not even when you finally get wedded to someone. He wasn’t overprotective... or at least that’s what he believed. But he was only human, after all– now that he contemplates about it, he realizes that he isn’t really fond of seeing you cry.

“Stop hurting yourself over and over again, you fool of a sister,” he said, clicking his tongue afterwards and grabbing your bags after hearing your father call from downstairs, “Know your worth a little, will you? It’s kind of painful for me to watch you get hurt too, you know. It’s not just mom and dad.”

And with that, he left the room, leaving you to tend to your other belongings and perhaps, say goodbye to this little house that managed to etch itself to your heart. Compared to your childhood home, it wasn’t enough to make you sob your heart out dry. But for some reason, tears still found its way on the corner of your eyes as you remembered the fond memories you’ve made here with your boys – the moment you stumbled upon this house when you four were trying to find a place to stay, the smile on your face when you decided that this was the one (cue Atsumu literally hauling you three towards the agent to settle the down payment), the moving day when Kiyoomi and Osamu brawled for the first time in their lives because they both wanted that bedroom that was the only one downstairs, “to be away from the idiot disease” as what they said. You can only wonder if you could make new memories as happy as those in your future home.

“Ah… you really are a fool of a sister, YN,” you whispered to yourself, wiping the tears away and getting the last of your things before proceeding downstairs, finding your father standing by the front door, arms crossed with a face mask adorning his face (you never really questioned where your brother got his traits, it was as clear as the day), “Kiyoomi is already in the car but I think you should bid Osamu-kun a proper farewell first. He’s in the kitchen. We’ll be waiting so just take your time.”

You nodded before proceeding to the said area, finding the gray-haired with his arms already wide open. Your lips quivered before jumping at him, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“We’ll still be seeing each other at school, you damn gorilla,” he chuckled before burying his face in your neck. You clicked your tongue, pouting at his very much realistic reply, “But it’s different! Eating breakfasts together, going to school together, going home together… and drinking wine until we’re brains out! I’m pretty sure my dad won’t let me do that at his house!”

He cackled, releasing you from his hold and flicking you on your forehead, “what an alcoholic woman! Are you sure you’re going to be a student in a prestige university abroad? You’ll be left behind by your classmates if you keep on prioritizing your wines before your studies.”

“Hah! You’ll see, Osamu. Those red wines will be the reason I even become one of the most famous writers in the world. You better wait and I’ll release an autobiography saying a man named Miya Osamu used to bully me to death,” you huffed, smirking after you saw him stare at you in disbelief. Your smile gradually disappeared upon the realization that the center of your heart was not home… even when I’m already leaving, huh?

Osamu frowned as well, scratching the back of his neck because of the sudden silence that indicated your little recognition, “I’m sorry. I told him to go home before 7 but…”

“It’s fine, Samu. We’re still not in the best terms so it’s probably better this way – a more peaceful way of farewell, you know? No fighting or anything else. Besides, I couldn’t tell him anything about my moving, scholarship, and so many things,” The lad didn’t miss the way you quickly wiped your tears away though. Damn you, Atsumu, why are you always making her cry, he thought.

“I’ll see you at school then, Samu. I’ll miss the dinners you cook,” you smiled, walking quietly outside, and shutting the front door. At the same time, a chime resonated from your phone that was in your pocket. Opening it, you released a long sigh… of relief? of anxiety? You didn’t know.

[Haji, 7:15PM]: I did it, YN. My thread, it’s… black.

You looked up at the night sky, finding stars twinkling as if they were gazing back at you.

Should I start moving on too, Haji?

[TOKYO UNIVERSITY GYMNASIUM, 7:20PM]

For the umpteenth time this week, Atsumu heaved yet another deep sigh, hands weaving itself with his hair to ruffle it out of frustration. Today, he couldn’t care less about the girls lurking around the university gym… because for the umpteenth time this week as well, his twin brother expressed his disappointment towards the boy, leaving him in the said place with the same words he had uttered yesterday and even the day before that, accompanied by a threat this time: “You’re such an immature asshole I wouldn’t be surprised if YN finally gives up on being your friend. You better come home before 7PM or else, I will drag you by your feet with my own two hands.”

Clicking his tongue, he grabbed another ball, gripping it so hard his nails almost left a dent on it. 7PM? He only scoffs. No, he won’t go home yet. He doesn’t care if Osamu gets furious at him and drags him nor if you give up on your friendship; all he thinks right now is that he wants to spike this ball straight onto the other side of the court, make it burst if it was even possible. It wasn’t his fault he got mad at you, he’s entitled to his feelings; he’s right, Kiyoomi’s mistaken… you shouldn’t have promised something you would just break in a span of less than thirty seconds. You shouldn’t hav–

But is it really her fault though? A voice in his head refuted him, or is it just because you’re really an immature asshole who can’t be happy for her?

Of course, it’s her fault, he argues. Immature? Him? He’s almost twenty-two, for god’s sake! He has been living in this world for more than two decades, how could Osamu call him underdeveloped? He swears he’s going to give his twin brother a good punch or two once he gets home.

… But she’s just trying to reach for her dreams, why are you not supporting her? She always does that when it comes to you, doesn’t she? Or have you already forgotten?

And at that, everything went perfectly still. The sound of the ball falling from his hands resonated throughout the quiet gym. Even with just hearing words from something or someone he can’t even identify, Atsumu felt as if he was hit on his head with a ton of bricks.

“E-eh…? W-why… why am I crying?” He whispered, fingers going up to touch his cheeks and furrowing his eyebrows when he felt the dampness of the said area.

Because you know you don’t deserve her. You know that it’s your fault. It has ALWAYS been your fault.

“Shut up,” he said to no one, plopping down the floor while he clutched his ears this time to shut the voice out. As it kept talking, he tried hitting his head with his hand, tried talking over it, tried retorting savage remarks back; however, everything was futile for it kept talking, kept torturing his mind with nothing but the truth.

You hurt her, then apologize, then do it again. What are you playing, a tug-of-war? How selfish of you, Miya Atsumu! Are you really her best friend?

“Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!” He screamed, his throat feeling as if it was getting scratched from the rawness of his voice. There was no way he was gonna have a voice tomorrow.

You’re so aggravated whenever you think about losing YN, are you sure you’re not in love with her or something? Yanno… have you never thought about the fact that maybe she’s your sou–

“Atsumu-kun! Wake up!” A voice yelled while grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him awake, finally bringing him out of his… dream? Was that even considered a dream? Because Atsumu was sure as hell that what happened was just plain torture to him.

“Are you okay, Atsumu-kun? You were having a nightmare,” turning to the girl who kept her hold on him, he finds Yui, who was looking back at him as if he lost the screws in his head. He starts to believe that he, in fact, did after all that weirdness. After all, who in the world would randomly just fall asleep in the middle of an empty gym then proceed to have a nightmare while on it. Surely, there would be no one except for him. How in the world did it happen anyway? As far as he could remember, he was just practicing his serves and tosses a while ago.

“Yui, why are you still here? It’s getting late,” he asks the girl whose eyes just lit up, for some reason, at his question before lifting her hand up and showing… what? She continued to smile though and waved the same hand right in front of Atsumu’s face, much to his slight annoyance. He wasn’t really in the best mood to play guessing games right now, so he only sighs exasperatedly, “Just get to the point, Yui-chan. I’m feeling the exhaustion now.”

“I told you before that I could see my thread, right? Well, it turned black! Me and my soulmate met up a while ago and turns out, he was a Moira, so we performed the mini ritual, which is so weird by the way, before cutting it. He said one of us has to ‘affirm’ their desire to cut the thread, so I did! As far as I know, based on my previous researches about soulmates, it doesn’t really matter because the ‘gods’ know the deepest desires of our hearts but you know, I don’t really care because I’m free!” She exclaimed, squealing afterwards, and flinging her arms around Atsumu’s neck to give him a hug. But the boy stayed still and gaped because how can someone afford to be happy at this situation? His arms remained motionless at his sides, confusing him; wasn’t he just itching to have this weeks ago? In fact, he was just dreaming about it about three days ago. So why? Why couldn’t he bring himself to hug her back?

“Your soulmate cut it. How can you be happy, Yui-chan….?” Before he knew it, his mouth spoke for him faster than his brain could process. He removed himself from the girl’s embrace, watching as confusion begin to form on her face; though it only took her milliseconds before an odd smile showed up on her face once more.

“Because that means I could finally date you without feeling guilty for my soulmate, silly!”

Atsumu felt like a hundred years had passed in just a single night and yet again, he sighed. If anyone sees him right now, they will probably laugh at his rather pathetic-looking state. Never in his life has he felt this exhausted, not even when Kita Shinsuke would force him to do an unreasonable number of receives and then make him clean the whole gym with the said captain; no, not even that could beat this fatigue and strangely, it makes him miss the captain.

Maybe he should’ve just gone home before 7PM, like Osamu said. He then shudders as he remembers that he still has to face his twin’s wrath.

“Can’t I just go back to being a toddler… like the brats that have no problem in the world?” He whines to himself quietly, relief spreading throughout his whole body as he sees your shared apartment; can already smell the meal Osamu cooked for you four; can visualize the disgusted look your brother will give him once he enters the house, all sweaty and gross-looking. Though, he thinks it’s odd that upon looking at the window of your room and Kiyoomi’s, he finds that they weren’t lit up unlike the usual. Maybe they’re already asleep, he shrugs given that you both love getting your beauty rest as much as you can. Twins, you are.

As careful as possible, he opens the front door, wincing when it makes a sound that would possibly wake up the very sensitive ears of Sakusa Kiyoomi from his room downstairs.

“Don’t bother trying to be quiet, Atsumu. You’re not going to wake anyone up in this house,” The voice of Osamu startles him. Fastly recovering from the mini-scare, he turns to his twin to glare while clutching his chest in hopes to calm his heart down, only to stop when he finds his brother glowering at him with a much worse scowl on his face.

“Samu, I’m sorry. I just got caught up with som–”

“You know, Tsumu, it’s kind of ironic, don’t you think? You always come around when it’s already too late,” Osamu speaks, trying to find the right words to say, “YN and Kiyoomi… they left and went back to their parents’ home. They will be staying there until YN and her mom leaves for abroad which would be in less than a month, right after this semester ends.”

Miya Atsumu was self-centered, conceited, prideful, juvenile, and so many more that it would take Kiyoomi more than a day to list all the things he detested from the boy. He didn’t care if you gave up and break off your friendship with him… at least that’s what he believed. But like Sakusa Kiyoomi, he was also human – and at that moment, as his brother stares at him and waits for a reply, he only stays still. Why is it that instead of the volleyball he was holding at the gym moments ago, it’s his heart that’s about to burst?

⤷ notes. we didn't have internet connection for a whole day and phew.. this was the result of me being bored out of my wits, i guess? and i apologize in advance for the pain that i keep on giving and WILL keep on giving :>

[ad1thi]

underrated stevetony fics rec list (P2)

this is ridiculously late and im so sorry, but here’s part 2 of this list!!

//

sweet lips on my lips (kiss like real people do).: @nethandrake

Frankly, if anyone told Tony that he’d be carried out of a burning building, well, he would’ve laughed in their faces. And if they were being extra mean about it, he probably would’ve even thrown them across the Atlantic.

After all, he’s Tony Stark. And Tony Stark always makes sure he has a safety net installed in his armor for emergencies, so it wouldn’t be out of commission before the building decided to collapse onto itself.

And yet, here he is, his armor out of commission, and being carried out of a burning building.

Carried out of a burning building by Steven Grant Rogers.

(In which Tony's from Civil War and Steve's from Infinity War. It's a problem.)

Rising: @withstarryeyes

Heat is licking up his sides and he groans, feeling his knees turn wobbly, and fumbles his way to the wall of the elevator. The metal is blessedly cool on his forehead and he sighs, eyes burning when he closes them. It’s still dark outside and every fiber of Tony’s being is telling him to go back to bed but he has work to do and plans to make and a blueprint open on his desk in the lab, Fury approved, and he can’t not do his job. So he musters all his strength and pushes off the wall when the elevator lands, ignoring his wet hacking as he moves.

He falls before he makes it to the bench, his top coated in sweat, and his eyes shutting to the whirling sensation that takes his breath away and leaves him panting in nauseated gasps. His hand shakes from where it’s planted on the ground, keeping him up.

the square root of infinity: @firebrands

steve and tony have their first fight. tony doesn't handle it well.

A Social Engagement: @finduilasclln

Written for the prompt: “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Steve agrees to something without fully comprehending what it means. Modern times are confusing.

Wounds Without A Bandage: @gotthesilver

Tony burrows deeper in his blankets, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to forget the last year. Taking control of Stark Industries was one thing, even if it had been a shock to Obie and the rest of the board when Tony came of age and started dispensing of all his dad’s old cronies, but SI’s exploration team actually finding Steve? Tony deciding Steve should come live with him? Tony has regrets.

Well.

He has regrets this morning.

Before last night, the most Tony regretted in relation to Steve was not jumping him the moment it became clear all his faculties were intact and that Tony hadn’t defrosted a brain dead Captain America.

Love Like A Hunger: @gotthesilver

Pushing the door open to the bedroom, Steve pauses at what he sees. “Tony? I—”

“Surprise?”

“I—” Steve swallows, taking in the sight of Tony, blood instantly going to his cock as he looks him up and down. “You look—wow.”

Tony’s got on a damn Princess Leia outfit, gold curling around his chest and hips, with red fabric skimming over his crotch, and Steve’s brain feels like it’s shut down.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

the james braincell: @starklysteve

“Right. How do we get them to admit they love each other?”

In front of him, Bucky brings out a metal flask and takes a swig out of it. “Hell if I know. You’re the genius who went to MIT.”

“I studied aerospace engineering,” Rhodey rolls his eyes, “not how to get two idiots to kiss.”

-------

Or, Bucky and Rhodey are the braincells.

In a desperate last ditch attempt, they set Steve and Tony up for a blind date.

Steve and Tony don't know that their date is each other. But they might have a braincell of their own. Might.

the good place (is next to you): @starklysteve

“I mean,” Tony tries his best shot at breaking the tension, “if you’re stuck with the wrong guy, at least I’m sexier than your real deal?”

Tony died and got sent to some sort of heaven, with Captain America as his soulmate. Except, they got the wrong Anthony Stark, and to stay in the Good Place, Tony must convince Steve to teach him how to be good.

-x-

(watching The Good Place is not necessary to understand this AU, but will help)

president captain america: @livingtheobsessedlife

He’s supposed to be campaigning to be elected as president of the United States, not pining over some billionaire he met at one of his campaign events. And yet, Steve can’t seem to get genius, philanthropist (and his newest big-time donor) Tony Stark out of his head.

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

Between Two Infinities: @/anonymous

The Titanic, 1946. Steven Grant Rogers did not think that going to war would end up with him being three times his normal size with superstrength and agility to boot, and... rich...but hey, he wasn’t complaining. Steve also didn’t expect to fall out of love- if it was even love in the first place- with the woman he was explicitly told to propose to, and instead fall for a formerly rich, formerly a playboy, still a genius, Tony Stark. Especially because, you know, it was a little tiny bit illegal, and he was supposed to be “America’s Golden Boy”, as Bucky put it.

All Tony expected out of the trip was to escape Europe with his best friend thanks to a lucky game of blackjack. He didn’t think he’d find himself having sex in the back of a car located in the cargo hold of the Titanic, or almost jumping off said ship. But that was just the life of a rogue Stark child, wasn’t it? At least Peggy was nice. Her dad, not so much.

A Thief Like Tony Stark: @dontholdthiswarinside

Tony is a high ranking criminal, known for his talent to disappear. Steve is a disillusioned soldier who needs some cash.

And some people will always be heroes, no matter what they do for a living.

The Things We Can’t Unsee: @/orphan-account

The mission was simple: get in, gather information, get out. Of course, Steve never really expected the enemy to follow this plan. One way or the other, something was bound to happen. They were the Avengers, after all. Nothing ever went easy for them.

What Steve didn’t expect was it going as far as it did; he didn’t expect having to make a decision that nobody should have to make.

Now Bucky’s lying there, bloody and dying all because of him, and Natasha’s poisonous words keep ringing in his head. Thinking about the ring he carries with him every day, Steve knows she’s right.

He’d never be able to make that call if it were Tony.

The Last Barman Poet: @nativemossy

Tony wasn't expecting anything more than dealing with a tequila-drunk Clint and a slightly wrinkled suit on this trip to Mexico. He got plenty more than he bargained for when he catches the eye of a handsome vacationer at the swim-up bar. Tipsy shenanigans ensue.

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.9

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Nine: illicit affairs: The direct aftermath of Spencer’s confession. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading.     Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, talk of breakup/s, cheating, very angsty, a tiny tiny bit of fluff, this whole series is a real slow burn

series masterlist

A/N: thank you for the continuous love you are showing to this little story! i can’t put into words how much it means to me, truly!! thank you also to those who expressed whether they would prefer this chapter to be happy or painful, you all really inspired me!! ENJOY!

-

“P-please say something.” Spencer’s plea was barely a whisper.

Time stood still in that moment. His heart was now in his throat, his hands trembling against your soft skin. He could see the sadness in your eyes, the conflict. Hurting you was exactly the thing he wanted to avoid. And as he silently observed the uncertainty cloud your features, his soul ached.

“I-I.. Spencer, I…”

There was a period of time after your breakup where you imagined something like this happening perhaps a million times. Where you wished he’d tell you all of the things he just did. Like a wild dream. A happy dream where you would say you loved him too. He would wrap his large arms around your frame, and never let go again.

This felt nothing like that. This was more like a nightmare.

His voice was ringing in your ears, the confession replaying on loop. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what to think. You felt betrayed by the man standing in front of you. Betrayed by the words he said.

Most importantly, you felt betrayed by your own feelings.

“Please leave.” You finally uttered, chin trembling.

The sentence came out croaky, broken even, but Spencer heard you. Pain rushed through him, burning his skin inside out. He twitched his nose in a failed attempt at trying to fight back his own tears.

He was prepared for this outcome, he knew it was a possibility. He knew there was a chance you would distance yourself from him. He knew you might get angry. After all, the kiss you shared two months ago didn't compare to what he just weighed off his chest. Especially if you didn't feel the same way.

In this moment however, as he held your face and looked deep into your eyes, his heart was in agony. He wasn't ready to let you go.

“Please leave.” You repeated a little more determined. Your hands quickly travelled to his in an effort to free yourself from his strong embrace.

“Y/N, don’t do this. W-we can talk this out.” Spencer begged, not wanting to let you slip away. “You’re the most important person in my life Y/N. I need you. I-I know that’s unfair. And I know it was unfair to tell you the truth about how I truly feel now, after all this time. I know that. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. Please-e don’t tell me to leave, please. I need y-you.”

“W-what, what about what I need?”

By now, the tears streaming down your face were resembling a waterfall. Everything was heavy, especially your heart. Conflicting emotions circling through you causing your head to spin. You felt like you were losing your mind. As if the room was getting smaller, and the walls were closing in.

“What about what I need, Spencer?!” You cried out, sadness slowly dissipating into anger. Your hands moved to his chest. You pushed him backwards, little by little, struggling to break free. “Get out! Get out! Get out.. Get out...” Your voice faded.

The brunette doctor let his arms fall. Completely defeated he took a step back, giving you space to breathe. Hastily, he wiped his tears away before proceeding to run his fingers through his hair.

An agonising silence filled the room. The two of you stared at one another, both afraid to speak up first. Afraid to somehow make this worse. Salty droplets continued to stream down your face as you tried to organise your thoughts, and your conflicting feelings.

There was no denying you loved Spencer too. You realised now more than ever that you always have. But you also loved Ethan, and you couldn't just walk away from a relationship you tried so hard to build. A relationship that to a certain extent helped you get over the very man standing in front of you.

Which is what hurt the most - Spencer’s impeccably terrible timing.

“W-why didn't you say anything sooner?” You sniffled. “I-I waited for you. After we broke up, before I met Ethan, I waited for you. I-I wanted you Spencer, and you never said anything. You never showed any inclination that you wanted me back. Why?”

The one-worded question lingered in the air. Heavy. Shattering.

Spencer sniffled quietly. A broken look was visible on his features; one to match yours. Tears slowly trailing down his jawline.

“B-because... Because....” He stuttered. Mind racing as he tried to collect his thoughts. Truthfully, Spencer didn't have an answer to that question. He didn't have a good enough reason. “I-I was afraid. I was afraid if I said something I would lose you all over again.”

“How much does it hurt knowing you lost me anyway?” It was the wrong thing to say. You regretted it the second it escaped your lips.

Heartbreak is a whole-body response. Similar to a grieving process, there are a number of stages. A number of reactions. It spreads through the nervous system, the respiratory system, and the endocrine system. It spreads until you’re unable to function.

Your words were ringing in Spencer’s ears. He felt nauseous. The room was spinning. Everything he feared was coming true.

Heartbreak doesn't just affect the heart and brain. It’s a lot more complicated than that.

“Y-you don't mean that.” He whispered, taking a hazy step towards you. “I-I know you don't mean that. Please, Y/N...”

The way he said your name made your heart ache even more. You didn’t want to cause him any pain, just like you knew his intentions weren’t malicious either. Yet, the two of you stood across from one another with nothing between you but hurt.

“I love you. And I-I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but please don’t tell me to go. Please don’t shut me out.” Spencer pleaded. His hands found yours, and he held them close to his chest. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you Y/N.” He repeated.

Sniffling, you swallowed your breath. The waterfall ended. Instead, it was replaced by lone wet droplets gradually trailing down your features.

“I love you too.” You expressed in a soft voice before meeting his wandering gaze.

Spencer blinked. His heart fluttered as he registered what you admitted.

“Y-you do?” He didn't think he’d be lucky enough to hear you say those three words again and mean it. Really mean it. Of course he hoped you would. After all, you said them earlier tonight. However, right now it was different. He felt it with every fibre of his being. You loved him back.

“Of course I do! Of course I love you! I always have, and I’m pretty sure I will never stop.” You admitted. The words spilling out of you with such ease you knew it was a sign what you were saying was true. “No-one makes me feel the way you do.”

A deep sigh escaped your lips. “B-but I can’t love you, Spencer. I’m getting married.”

“If Ethan doesn’t make you feel-” He began, but you quickly cut him off.

“You’re the love of my life Spencer. My soulmate. You came into my life at exactly the right time and made it so much richer. You helped me become the person I am today. Our connection is so strong, we can understand each other without a word. We’re combined through heart and mind, and I will never regret the time we spent together. I will never regret loving you.” You revealed. “E-Ethan, however, Ethan is my life partner. He gives me comfort. He’s my right hand. Our bond grows stronger with everyday menial tasks.”

“I could be your life partner Y/N if you just gave me a chance.” Spencer’s hands moved to your cheeks once again, cupping them gently. “You told me you wanted to marry me before, we can do that.”

“Spencer...”

“Y/N, there is no doubt in my mind that I would do anything to spend the rest of my life with you. If you’ll have me.”

It was a proposal. A marriage proposal.

Spencer didn't have to specify, you knew that it was. You knew what he meant. He didn't have to get down on one knee with a diamond ring in hand. He didn't have to ask, ‘will you marry me?’. He didn't have to make it intentionally romantic. His words alone were evidence enough. Spencer Reid wanted to marry you.

“I-I, I need some time to think. I-I can’t just drop everything and run away with you. I hope you understand that Spencer.”

The hazel-eyed doctor slowly nodded his head. “Take all the time you need Y/N. I’ll wait. I will always wait for you.”

And with that, his lips found yours.

Despite the complicated situation you both found yourselves in. Despite the difficult position, and the choice you were now facing. He held you as close as it was humanely possible. Nothing mattered. The world slipped away. Your hands moved around his neck. Heartbeats syncing into one. 

Both of you revelling in the thought you found each other once again.

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

-

A/N: hope you liked this chapter and as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Little Witch | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies, I’m finally back with some Mikaleson Brothers content. I’ve had this idea for a while and rewrote it about a thousand times. I’m not sure if I love this but I needed to just finish it. I feel like it’s not that great but regardless I’m giving it to you. It’s super fluffy and a quick burn romance but, hey, who doesn’t like kissing me you just met you know? In all seriousness I hope you’re all doing well. I know life is really off right now and I hope this helps. All my love <3 until next time loves!

Description: Hogwarts and The Originals crossover, disbelief must be suspended for this one as we all know some of this doesn’t add up, soulmate AU

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Female!Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: there are no warnings

Word count: 6.7k

Tags: FLUFF

Tag List: @activist-af , @hellotvshowtrash , @firebirdsalvatore

(Photos not mine but mood board is :) )

“There you are, sweetheart,” her gentle voice breaks through you dreams, pulling you from the same scene you’ve grown used to seeing for the last couple weeks, “you’re going to miss dinner sleepyhead.”

You awake to a familiar picture: your books sprawled across a desk in the middle of the library and a fiery redhead with a soft smile holding a semi-crumpled cardigan towards you. Her eyes twinkle with laughter and familiarity. This isn’t the first time Arabella has found you asleep after you told her you were going to be studying. When you look down at your divination textbook you notice a small pink smudge from your cherry lip gloss. You wipe your fingers around your lips, collecting the rest of your smeared makeup.

You stifle a yawn, stretching your limbs out with a soft groan, “shoot, I fell asleep again. What time is it, Ari?”

“Quarter to six, hun,” she reaches out to brush some fallen hair out of your eyes, “we should really get a move on. Are you feeling okay?”

You nod, this time the yawn interrupting any intention to answer that you had. Your head buzzes lightly with the remnants of your dream. For weeks you’ve felt something on the horizon, something meant just for you. Three pairs of brown eyes and the warmest feeling in your chest. It’s the same feeling you’ve been waking up with every night, if not a touch stronger this evening. You don’t mind it though, it layers a warmth to your bones that this winter in the castle has stripped from you.

“I haven’t been sleeping too well lately is all,” you let Arabella help you slip your cardigan back on, straightening it and your tie, evening the yellow and gray stripes. 

Her hands still against your shoulders, her concerned green eyes meeting your own half open ones, “still having those dreams, sunshine?” 

You nod once more, sagging slightly from the weight of your tote when she loops it over your shoulder. Your skin tingles with slight electricity, lulling your already fuzzy brain into a deeper haze. You tug your sleeves over your hands, scrunching your fingers into a fist to try and regain some awareness.

“Hmm,” Arabella pushes the same strand of hair from your forehead again, removing her headband and putting it on you instead to keep your unruly strands in place, “remind me to make you some tea before bed. I have some herbs from the greenhouse that might help with them. Let’s go get some food into you first though, ok?

She links her arm through yours, pulling you alongside her towards the dining hall. The corridors are mostly empty, spare a few behind students. Much like yourselves, they hurry in the same direction, following the wafting smell of roasted chicken and pumpkin pie. You can’t help but shiver as you watch them rush, feeling like someone forgot to tell you something. As if everyone knows a secret that you very well must have snoozed through.

“Hey Ari,” you tug lightly on her sleeve to get her attention, “why is everyone in such a hurry? Did I miss something?”

She looks confused for a moment, her button nose scrunching tight before her mouth falls open, “oh yes, that’s right! I forgot to tell you! Some seventh year prefects overheard McGonagall talking about some exchange students from Ilvermorny. They’re supposed to be here for dinner!”

Your skin crackles with electricity, the air static with anticipation, “Ilvermorny? They’re from America?”

She nods her head cheerfully as the two of you approach the towering doors of the dining hall, “I know, it’s crazy right?”

You can hear the buzz of activity emitting from the hall before you cross the corridor, a dull roar that lights you with an even mixture of excitement and nervousness. 

“They certainly think so,” you motion to the giggling fourth year girls who scurry past you, their chatter no doubt about the possibility of Hogwarts’ newest additions. 

The current coursing through your body sings when Arabella pulls you through the doors. The dining hall is a flurry of activity, each house no doubt wondering if they’ve gained any new members tonight. The thought of some new Hufflepuffs warms your heart. You haven’t had any new faces around in ages it feels like. You let her lead you to a few seats left open near the front of the hall, next to the small stage.

You fall into your seat with a sigh, graciously accepting the plate of food Arabella hands you. How she made it so quick you aren't sure. Magic probably, that would make the most sense. When you glance over at her she has her wand out, levitating food onto her own plate. She always puts you ahead of herself, something you can't help but feel bad about sometimes. Regardless, it warms your heart immensely to be lucky enough to have such a caring best friend. You catch her eye and she passes you a loving smile and a wink before lowering her plate. 

As you take the first bite of your pumpkin pie, ignoring the nudge you get for eating your dessert first, Headmistress McGonogal taps her wand to the podium in front of her.

“Students,” she clears her throat, waiting for the noise in the great hall to quiet, “as quite a few of you have already heard by now,” she searches you all with a glint in her eye, a small smile on her lips, “we have a few students joining us.”

The great hall buzzes at her admission, a current running through the entirety of the student body and, most of all, you. Your head feels like it’s spinning. Like you’ve just drunk a litre of fire whiskey and that if you stand up there’s a good chance you’ll fall right over. You drop your fork but the clatter it makes doesn’t register with you as much as it should. Arabella looks over at you, clearly worried, and raises her eyebrows, placing a warm hand on your back. 

As you go to shrug your shoulders at her, the doors to the great hall open once more, “ah, and here they are! Please, everyone, show them your warmest welcome. They have come a long way, all the way from Ilvermorny in the United States.”

McGonogal continues to speak about Hogwarts and its connection to Ilvermorny but her speech is drowned out by cheering from all over the great hall. Well, you’re pretty sure it is. Your pulse is thundering so loudly in your ears that you can’t hear much of anything at all. Arabella stares at you still, growing more and more scared as the seconds pass. You think you say something, you open your mouth at least, but whatever words come out of your mouth don’t reach your ears. Arabella tightens her grip.

You close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly, desperately willing your senses to go back to normal. It almost works too but then you breathe in and are hit with three scents so hard that you almost vomit. Not because they’re terrible, though, they’re anything but. No, you almost puke because of how fast you’re swamped in pine and buttery leather and the entire damn sea and how quickly it makes your heart rate spike. Are you having a heart attack? What is going on?

When you open your eyes the great hall is spinning and you know for a fact that you’re the only one experiencing this carousel ride. You have to get out of here. You push away from the table, standing on legs much too shaky for your own good. Arabella calls your name and it sounds like she’s behind a thick sheet of glass, one you can’t break no matter how hard you slam against it. The trees and leather and sea wraps around you again and your knees almost give out. There’s only one thing you can think to do and you don’t hesitate to do it. 

You run like hell. 

No. Scratch that. You run like hell is chasing you and, well, maybe it is. Maybe hell is a person, or people, perhaps even three people, and their footsteps pound down the corridor behind you so loud they echo through your chest. Your kilt whips around your legs, your hair flying behind you as you clear the corners as they come. You can feel them, whoever they are, gaining but slowly. You can make it, you know you can.

It’s midwinter, the thick of February, and yet you feel like you’re wading through lava. The halls should be ice right now but your blood is scorching you from the inside out. You pull the sweater from your chest as you run, not thinking twice before dropping it, never stopping. Your skin is charged with electricity and you want to scream and tear your heart out but you can’t, not now. You feel them like they’re right on your heels, the triplet of scents swirling furiously around you. You need to get outside. Now. 

You make it to the courtyard, practically leaping off the cement steps, but a hand catches your arm midair and you stumble. You see the ground hurtling towards you in slow motion, the cobblestone path laughing at you. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the stones to bite into your side but they never do. Instead you’re wrapped in pine, two warm arms pulling you into a firm, hot chest. 

You thought your skin was electrified before but that was nothing compared to what is now. Everywhere your body touches the person holding you prickles with static. You can almost hear your flesh crackle, each one of your veins roaring so loud that all you can hear is your blood rushing through you. It’s like a tsunami, waves of fire and power and fucking pine rolling over you unrelentlessly. You aren’t quite sure if you’re still breathing.

You feel another pair of hands on your back, rubbing up and down, spreading the fire like butter over your shoulder blades. Your body reacts on it’s own, your back arching into whoever it is behind you, your head falling onto a shoulder that smells like summer at the beach. 

A part of you is screaming to run. To jab your elbow into their stomach and fight like hell. However, against all of your better judgement, the feeling is fading and fast. Hands skim down your arms lightly and you fight the delicious shiver that crawls up your spine. You don’t realize you’re still clinging to the first person until your fists squeeze around the cotton of their shirt. Their hands hand loosely off your hips and you don’t even want to acknowledge how much you like it. 

Instead of fighting, you pry your eyes open, only to stare directly into strikingly familiar brown eyes. Your breath catches in your chest, your head still against his shoulder. He leans closer towards you, blonde hair falling down his face slightly. It looks entirely soft and you squeeze your hands tighter, resisting the urge to touch this stranger’s hair. His scent, that overbearing ocean, wraps around you again. He definitely doesn’t feel like a stranger.

“Hi love,” his voice is soft and lulls you deeper into his chest, his nose skimming the arch of your cheekbone, “you’re lucky we’re fast. That could have been quite the fall.”

He chuckles lightly and your cheeks flame, the noise like the wind chimes you hung in the greenhouse your fourth year. His laugh hits you in the gut and radiates to every inch of your skin, cooling the flames but also concentrating them lower. Too low. Your traitorous core sets on fire from the mixture of his musical laugh and mesmerizing eyes. Merlin, you don’t even know his name.

You look away from him but you can’t escape his eyes no matter how hard you try, looking directly into an identical pair of warm, brown eyes. The man in front of you, the one with his hands squeezing your hips, is also frustratingly familiar. He’s tall, his chest, the one underneath your fingertips, is broad and heaves up and down with every breath. Your body, being the wanton force of nature she is, longs to have you wrap your legs, and every other part of you, around the man in front of you. When the blonde behind you wraps his arms around your stomach, reminding you that he’s still there, you want to do the same to him as well.

Memories prickle the edges of your mind, the dreams you’ve been having for weeks now flashing behind your eyelids every time you blink. The warmth in your bones and the molten brown eyes. The same electricity that is burning through your chest and head and core, only now it’s a million times stronger. You shake your head. Not at the man in front of you but at yourself. No way are these the men from your dreams. That’s impossible, Right? And besides, there were three eyes in your dreams.

“There you guys are,” a voice, steadily approaching and as slow and tantalizing as honey, pulls your attention away from the men surrounding you, “I can’t believe you left me to explain what was happening to McGonagall.”

You meet the third pair of eyes with an audible gasp, his sharp leather scent curling around you despite the distance between the two of you. It sinks into your skin and puts you in motion, like the potion you needed to break whatever paralyzing spell you were under. You pull yourself so suddenly from the two men that they don’t have time to catch you, putting some much needed distance between all four of you. You force yourself to ignore the way your heart aches already. Your hand finds the wand in your kilt pocket. Stupid girl, longing for men you don’t even know. 

You find your voice but only enough to mutter hastily, “Were you chasing me? Aren’t you supposed to be meeting, like, the whole school right now? What in Merlin’s name is going on?” 

The newest male takes a step towards you, his eyes drawing up and down your body, reigniting the heat that has been slowly subsiding and lingering on your hand wrapped around your wand. He smirks at you, like he knows something that you don’t and, honestly, he probably does. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. His hair is dark brown and just as touchable as the previous two. You squeeze your fist tighter.

“One question at a time, darling,” he takes another step and you tense your shoulders instinctively even though your body is fighting the urge to run to him, “we’ll tell you everything. Can we go inside first, though? You look like you’re freezing. Is this yours?”

His question isn’t really a question, in his hands is your cardigan. He picked it up for you? You let your shoulders sag slightly and your grip loosen. He doesn’t know you, why did he bother picking it up?

“I-,” you release the wand slowly, “yeah that’s mine. Thank you.”

He’s right about the cold, now that you aren’t sandwiched between the other two men the chill nips at your fingers and legs. You go to take your sweater from him but he holds it open, beckoning you to turn around and let him put it on you for you. You sigh but oblige, tucking your arms into the soft wool with his help. His hands smooth down your arms once you’re settled, the familiar sparks following their path. You’re head squeezes with confusion and you want to scream if only to release the pressure.

You turn in his hands, meaning to break his hold but only ending up closer to his chest, “what is going on?”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The ache in your heart eases drastically and you breathe in the leather once more. Merlin’s sake, this is exhausting. Even so, your limbs feel lighter in his arms. His eyes burn into yours and you don’t even try to look away, letting him extract whatever information he wants from you. You’re almost sure he can read every thought flashing through your eyes.

“Can’t you feel it?” His hand brushes your cheek, your skin buzzing on cue, “feel us? Like there’s a string pulling you to us, right? We feel warm, don’t we, and you want to be near us. You feel like you know us but you don’t know how or why.”

You find yourself nodding along to the words of a man whose name you don’t even know yet, your hands finding their way to his chest. 

“Who are you,” you turn to meet the other two, your eyes wide, “all of you.” 

The second man, the one who caught you, steps forward, holding out a hand for you to take. You aren’t sure why but you look back to the male in front of you, the one with his arms still tight around you, for approval. He nods, letting his arms fall almost reluctantly. When he releases you, you’re quickly pulled back into the pine scented chest. You don’t like how easily your body moulds to his, how his body seems to have some sort of claim on yours. How all of their bodies do.

“Elijah,” he rests his chin against your head, caging you against a chest that feels too much like home to make any sense, “I’m Elijah. You were just talking to Kol and Klaus-”

The hands, the same ones from before, once again rest on your back, drawing a traitorous sigh from your lips, “is right behind you, love, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart squeezes dangerously at his words, letting them fill you with the warmth of his promise. Even if your rationality doesn't accept it for the immediate truth it is, every other part of you does. You pull out of Elijah’s arms and turn to the ocean of a man behind you, throwing your arms around his neck without a second thought. He, too, feels like coming home. He takes no time squeezing you against him and burying his face in your neck. You feel hands behind you move your hair away from your neck and then a nose drawing up the exposed bumps of your spine. 

“I don’t understand any of this,” you mumble into Klaus’ shoulder, “I don’t understand what any of this means.”

“Of course you do, darling. You can feel it in your bones,” Kol pushes his nose against your temple, his lips skimming your ear before tugging the lobe between his teeth.

Merlin. His teeth on your skin sends heat pooling in the pit of your belly. You tighten your arms around Klaus, biting back an embarrassing moan as he laughs again. This time the sound echos through your chest and wraps around your heart, grabbing on and refusing to let go. Kol’s lips skim down your jaw, nipping lightly at your throat in a way that is completely inappropriate for a man you just met but you don’t care right now. 

Arms wrap around you from behind and you sink back into them, letting Elijah spin you and haul you into his chest. Your head is spinning from how quickly you’re being passed around by men you don’t know. Your heart stings slightly, the comfort you feel in the large male’s arms screaming at you. Perhaps you don’t know them but your body has been waiting centuries for them and is more than ready to reunite. You don’t hesitate to wrap your legs around him. 

“Baby,” your heart stutters and his pupils expand like he can hear it, “do you mind if we go back to our dorm before anyone sees us?” Elijah glances over your head, searching around the courtyard before landing back on yours, “This is a lot to explain to one person, let alone the whole school.”

Your cheeks flame for the millionth time and your head whips around, searching the courtyard yourself for any prying eyes. You breathe a quick sigh of relief when you don’t see anyone. He’s right and, besides, you really are freezing now, your exposed legs two icicles.

You smile gently at him, savouring the way his eyes draw to your lips, “that’s probably a good idea.”

You go to unwrap your legs from his hips when he stops you, his hands tightening around your back and thighs, “may I?”

Your eyes widen, your hands stilling on his shoulders, “you want to carry me?”

He leans his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours gently, “very much so, baby.”

Your heart feels like it restarts, kicking your pulse into overdrive. You don’t trust yourself to speak, your entire body engulfed in pine and flames like a forest fire that you never knew could exist. You just nod, your arms snaking around his neck and pulling you flush against his chest. You can feel every breath he takes, closing your eyes when he begins walking. 

The hallways, thankfully, feel empty and you don’t open your eyes, letting yourself sink into Elijah’s chest like you’ve been doing it your whole life and this isn’t your first experience being held by someone as large and strong as him. Your fingers, laying on the back of his neck, can’t resist shuffling through his hair. You’re already in his arms anyway, so what’s the harm. Just as you thought, his hair is soft to the touch and mesmerizing. You tangle your fingers through it, the last dregs of anxiety seeping from your bones. 

When he starts down a staircase that you aren’t anticipating you tighten your fingers, squeezing your thighs to keep from falling out of his arms. In turn Elijah releases a breathy groan, one that hits you directly between your thighs. When you open your eyes you’re met with a coal black instead of the warm brown from minutes ago. Your breath catches in your throat but not from fear, albeit it should be. You know you should be painfully afraid of this man, whom you barely know, whose arms are wrapped around you so tight it almost hurts, but you aren’t. Not even a little bit. 

Not even when he opens his mouth and you see two, very sharp looking fangs poking out of his gums, “Eli?”

You don’t know where the nickname comes from and, honestly, you don’t care. All you can think about is the irrational heat growing between your legs and his hands, once again squeezing your hips. Who is this man and why do you want him to press you against the stairs and do unspeakable things to you? You look over his shoulders at Kol and Klaus, whose eyes aren’t quite the same charcoal as Elijah’s but definitely not the sunshine whiskey that they were before. You have to bite your lip again to keep from squeezing your legs harder around Elijah. 

“Come on,” Klaus steps ahead of you and Elijah, glancing back over his shoulder and smirking teasingly, “I can hear people leaving the Great Hall.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. How can he possibly hear the Great Hall from here? You glance back to Elijah, the sight of his fangs flashing through your mind. You shake your head, not wanting to think about any of this right now. You reach a hand up, cupping his jaw and running your thumb over his cheek like any of this at all is normal.

“Klaus is right, Eli. We need to figure this out before it gets around the school.” More than it already is, you add in your head.

The four of you somehow make it to their dorm and you breathe a sigh of relief when it’s segregated from the rest of the dorms. McGonagall probably gave them their own dorm to make them feel more comfortable. You’re just thankful to be away from the open space. You already know the entire school will be talking about what happened. Merlin why is it always you? You’re just a Hufflepuff, you didn’t sign up for any of this. 

Their dorm is magnificent. The doorway leads into a moody common room, surrounded with cozy browns and greens. The walls are lined with bookshelves and there’s a window looking out into the lake. The waves lap against the glass and you giggle as a few fish swim by, stopping to look into the room and then continue on their way. The room smells like all three of them. Like every plain of earth and sea and air. There are four doors leading to what you can only assume are their bedrooms and bathroom. Compared to your dorm, which you love but also share with five other girls, this place is an oasis.

Elijah sets you on an incredibly soft, brown leather couch and you pull your legs up, tucking them underneath you. Kol settles next to you, his arm resting on the back of the couch, behind your head. Klaus sits on your other side, pulling your legs from under you and over his lap, his hands rubbing circles on your calves. With your back now to Kol, you can’t help but let your head fall to the side against his arm, soaking in the warmth of his skin. The dungeons are colder than you thought they would be. How do the Slytherins do it? He laughs quietly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you to lay against his chest. 

Elijah settles on the coffee table in front of the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at you with a look only slightly less hot than before. You hold a hand out for him, one he quickly takes, threading his fingers between yours, pulling your knuckles to his lips. Klaus’ hands are slowly working up your legs, now wrapped around your knees and steadily moving higher. You squeeze your eyes tight before opening them and staring at the ceiling, avoiding three pairs of brown eyes to the best of your ability.

You sigh gently, leaning into Kol’s hands as his fingers search through your hair, scratching at your scalp in a way that makes you almost keep your thoughts to yourself if only to ensure he doesn’t stop. But you need answers now.

“Okay, I’m serious this time,” your eyes train on a bookshelf, counting the books to keep yourself focussed, “who are you? You clearly aren’t like me, you aren’t witches, but you definitely aren’t regular people,” you suck in a breath, your eyes stalling on a thick book titled The History of Mythical Creatures, “so what, pray tell, are you?”

Your eyes stay focussed on the book but you don’t want to entertain the thoughts flowing through your mind. You had to read that volume in your seventh year myth class. Just because you’re a witch it doesn’t mean you’re used to the creatures you’re taught about. There’s a reason every student at Hogwarts takes eight years of defensive magic.

“You got us, little witch,” Klaus’ hands are above your knees now, kneading your exposed flesh with skilled fingers, “clever and beautiful. The perfect mate.”

Your eyes snap from the bookshelf, from the book that you know holds the answer to their identity, to the blonde lazily licking his own extended fangs. Mate. Did he just say mate? There’s no way he just said mate. Impossible. You’re a witch. As far as being mythical goes, you’re as close to normal as it gets. They, however, are something stronger. You can feel the power rolling off of them. 

“I,” your mouth falls open, your mind spinning, “what?”

Kol laughs from behind you, his chest rumbling under your back. He pulls your hair to the side again before capturing your ear with his mouth again. 

“You heard him, darling,” he tugs your earlobe between his teeth, pulling a tiny gasp from you as, “your ours. And, I hate to break it to you, but we’re pretty hard to get rid of. ”

Klaus’ hands squeeze right below the hem of your kilt, lighting your skin with the delicious sparks. If his hands weren’t there you would be squeezing your legs together for sure.

“He’s right, love, I’ve tried. Many times,” Klaus smirks at Kol in only the way an older brother could and it hits you.

“Oh, Merlin,” you close your eyes again, heat flaring across your face, “you’re brothers. All three of you are brothers. What is going on, Helga help me.”

All three of them laugh and Elijah kisses your knuckles again, “yes baby, we are in fact brothers. It’s been a long millennium.”

“Millenium?” You feel faint.

He laughs again and you wish you could pluck the sound out of the air and hold onto it for the rest of your life. When you look at him all you can do is smile and run a hand down your face. A thousand years, huh? Klaus’ hands trace lazy circles on your inner thighs as Kol’s lips find your neck, his teeth scraping your skin in a way that has you sinking even further into his buttery leather arms. When he bites down a touch harder you can’t help but wonder what kind of experience a thousand years would allow a person. 

A thousand years. Your chest stings unexpectedly as another thought hits you. It must be the day for that.

“I don’t think I’ll live a millenium. I probably have a few hundred years but a thousand? Not even close,” your heart stutters, a cold chill running over you, “You’ll all outlive me.”

Three growls sound in the room and you almost jump out of your skin in shock before you realize that they’re coming from them. Kol tightens his arms around you protectively as Klaus’ hands find your hips under your kilt, squeezing you like you just suggested you’re going to die tomorrow. Elijah drops from the coffee table, sinking to his knees in front of you and throwing an arm over your stomach. 

“You’ll be living a lot longer than that, baby, I assure you of that.”

You reach a hand towards Elijah, curling your fingers through his hair on instinct, “I may be magic, Eli, but I’m not immortal. It’s not the same for me.”

He leans into your palm, rubbing his cheek against your fingertips, “that’s an easy fix.”

Your head spins, the pieces connecting in your head as you stare into his serious eyes. For the first time all night a tinge of fear zaps your chest. Immortality is no joke.

“You want me to become like you?” You look away from him and Klaus, who nods in agreement with his brother, “You want me to become a-”

Kol nips the back of your neck and you try to ignore the pleasure rolling through you in the midst of the most serious conversation of your life, “a vampire, darling. You can say it. We’re vampires.”

The word echoes through you, bouncing around your head and lungs, fluttering in your stomach before finally settling directly between your thighs. Merlin. You sit upright quickly, pulling your legs from Klaus’ dangerously skilled fingers, and all but stumble over Elijah and the coffee table in order to put some distance between you and the brothers. You scrub your hands over your face, your entire body feeling more alive than it ever has in your short lifetime. But you know it can’t last.

You keep your hands over your eyes, letting the open air sooth you for a moment before speaking, “I’m just a witch. Just one witch and not even a good one at that,” you peel your hands from your eyes, opting instead to tug your hair, “I’m more of a farmer, honestly. I spend all my time in the library or the greenhouses. I’m not mate material. I’m definitely not,” you swallow thickly, your throat closing all of a sudden and without your permission, “vampire material. You have the wrong girl.”

As soon as you say the words they feel wrong but they’re already out of your mouth and you have to live with them now. For a long moment nobody says anything. It’s just you standing in front of them, your eyes refusing to open and your hands ripping at your hair. Your legs tremble beneath you and it feels like your heart is trying to crawl out of your throat. If it can’t be with them then it would rather stop beating altogether. The cold air of their dungeon dorm nips at your legs and fingertips painfully and you revel in the feeling of something other than the torrent of emotions that you’ve been battling for the better half of an hour. 

You feel a rush of air in front of you, forcing your eyes open just in time to see Kol standing in front of you. You open your mouth, ready to let even more words that you know you’ll regret out, but you find that you can’t speak. Not because you don’t want to, though, but because Kol’s mouth is now crashing into yours and, gods, does it ever feel like you’re breathing for the first time. Kol’s mouth is oxygen. Like before this moment you were dead and his lips are life. You grip his shoulders, your fingers digging into the taught muscle to keep yourself upright against this force of nature. 

His hands wrap in your hair and he tugs gently, swallowing each moan like it’s candy and he can’t get enough. Your hands crawl from his shoulders to his hair, doing the same to him. He groans, a sound completely different from Elijah but so similar at the same time. When his tongue finds its way between your lips you see stars. Your blood sings like you’ve walked through a magnetic field, your veins buzzing with a foreign kind of power. This time you don’t feel like you’re home, you know you are.

Kol pulls back a fraction, his lips brushing yours while he speaks, “you feel that?” His hands move to your cheeks, your skin like a current where he touches you, “I know you do, I know you feel me in your veins, darling. I don’t have the wrong person. Fate doesn’t make mistakes. You’re perfect for me.”

Your eyes widen and you push back the swell of emotion rising in your chest.

A pair of arms wraps around you from behind, a riptide pulling you into an ocean of a man, “me as well, my little witch. Besides, I quite like farmers. Tell me, can you grow strawberries?”

You try to stop yourself from sagging against his chest but you can’t and you don’t actually want to. His head falls on yours as if he’s been doing it for years.

“Pumpkins,” you whisper. You don’t know what else to say, knowing full well you aren’t ready to answer the other questions, “I grow the best pumpkins in the school.”

Klaus’ chest rumbles like a cat purring against your back, “pumpkin pie it is then, love.”

You feel a hand close around your arm, pulling you from both Kol and Klaus and into a pair of arms that rival the dark forest. Elijah lifts you against his chest, giving you a moment to wrap your legs around him before he walks the two of you to the window. He looks out in the water and it eases you knowing that you don’t have to answer to his molten brown eyes.

“I know this is a lot to take in right now, baby. I know you’re scared and tired, I can feel it. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. But just know that we’re here because something stronger than time itself brought us to you. No mistakes were made,” he catches your eyes through the reflection of the glass, “I’m ready for whatever challenges this brings. I’ve been ready for a thousand years, ten lifetimes, and I would wait fifty more for you,” he pulls you further up his chest, pressing his forehead against yours, “just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

You can’t stop yourself from pressing your lips against his, catching his bottom lip between yours, “graduation.”

He pulls back, his eyes wide and his eyebrows scrunched together, “what?”

You pull his face back to yours, stealing another kiss that he doesn’t hesitate to return, “I just need until graduation. I need to finish my last year here, it’s my home. After that, I’m yours.”

He crushes you against him as soon as the last syllable leaves your lips and you let yourself giggle freely. He looks at you in awe, a smile blooming across his face like he just won the lottery. Kol and Klaus are next to you in an instant, their faces almost mirror images of Elijah’s. Your heart soars at the sight of the three boys you met less than three hours ago who you’ve just promised the rest of your life, and longer, to. It sounds ridiculous still but nothing has ever felt so right.

“Well, brothers,” Klaus’ eyes shine happily, “it looks like we’re going to be here longer than we thought.”